The Forrest City times., 1894-11-30
VIRGINIA MOUNTAIN FOLK.

b. straight for the valley had left the path, and suddenly found myself breaking through brush fence and half way across a clearing" The place was unfamiliar to me. A cabin, preserving miraculous balance. tilted forward from the steep side of the mountain Its plank roof was weighted down by rocks, and the log chimneys leaned out on either side like ill-set ears.
 The door was opened for me by an old woman, who shut it as soon as had entered. She gave me a chair, hoped that was 'peart." Plank shut ters had been put before the windows, so the rain might not come in. When my eyes became accustomed to the dim light, l saw that man and girl sat on a bench in one corner. The girl was small and slight, and her hair hung short, like child's, about her throat; but her eyes were womanly. The man was specimen of hardy life. with a broad. deep, full chest. great hands, all brawn and muscle, and head set we'll back, covered with short, crisp curls, that in themselves spoke of his splendid vitality. This couple gazed curiously at me for a time, but they did not speak.
 The old woman began talking in cracked, tremulous voice. She had fine eyes, undimmed, and full of wis dom. Her head was tied in a snuff colored cloth that disclosed at the back a hard knot of gray hair. She was so bent that her waist had sunk out of sight, and her dress had shortened ut the back, exposing the white knit stockings. She talked to me about the folks thereabouts, and, finding that many of them were intimates of mine. she told me all the gossip of the mountain.
 The rain poured in a steady stream, beating through the chipks between the logs. down the chimney, and against the plank shutters. The old woman talked on, treating me to sage advice and sound philosophy. The two in the other corner sat silent; neither had spoken since 1 had come in. But l noticed that the mans fin gers moved rapidly all the time and that the girl kept her eyes on them.
 That's the way he talks to her." the old woman said to me. He's the un- fortunest critter ever was. Carn't speak nor hear. But then Dochy knows we'll enough what he means by them finger tricks. They've been keepin' comp'ny goin' on four year, Budge an Dochy has," she went on without lowering her voice. She's my gurl; an Budge's father was my brother Jeff That makes 'em kin. Budge has stayed long CT Dochy an me ever since her pa been dade. Seemed kinder likely they'd be carin' for one 'nother"
 wanted to ask why they had not been married, but 1 had discovered that the old woman was stone deaf. With quick perception she guessed my question. "Budge is kinder foolish." she said, ''an' somehow he ain't never made fxin's fer ther gittin jined. Cert'ny t'aint Dochy's business to see about it."
 A dog whined outside. and, at a mo- ton from his sweetheart, the man got up to open the door. l saw then that he had a wooden leg.
 ''He fell offer Pik'es rock into liar ris' Level, an broke his leg" the old woman said to me. I knew the place. A powder hangs far over, above a flat stretch of land that scoops right into the mountain side. ''It war right bad brolSe," she went on, an Dr. Joe had to cut it off--thar, you see, clean above the knee lint It war bout then that Budge an Dochy foun' out they was likin' of one 'nother-jest bout the time when he broke his leg, and Dr. Joe got him another from the valley Dr. Joe could ha' got 'em jined by the preacher, an asked him to do it. But he said as how Budge was simple. and they was too near kin. Pears to me if they's carin' of one mother carnt be no harm nc way what someyer comes bout"