The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1902-03-09

than you are. That's booze, that stuff;
only kind they can get here. Ever
see an pain-killer jag? Well you
don't want to unless you're up tree
There's a worse kind. though. CHINA
mon. They drink the alcohol the Gin
namOn's kept in when they can steal
it. We lost six men that way last
year. All died within twenty-four
hours. Yes; I've hear of cinnamon
DRINKS getting over it, but all 1 ever
saw went crazy first and then turned
up their toes. See that cross-eyed kid
near the door? Looks mild. don't he2
He's a mean one. Got grudge against
a man named White. over the range
in the Big Sandy district White was
a decent enough fellow. This cuss goes
over there one day doesn't find White
but finds his three kids keeping house.
Oldest kid not more than 10. He kills
EN- all, but one of 'em must have
fought back some, for he comes back
with a cut in his shoulder. Do any
thing to him? No. not in this country.
Whites been kind of lOoney ever since.
He'll likely get this kid some day
Now, there's old Branch with his feet
against the stove. Peddler came along
a couple of years ago and put up at
his house. Nobody ever saw the ped
der again. Branch went around wear
ing fake jewelry for months. The no
ton got around that he'd buried the
peddler under his floor. but when they
wanted to find out Branch got some
of his kin down there and they swore
they'd kill any party that came near
the place. OF course, that ended it.
There's a lot of the murderers that
amt around tonight. Old Beebe that
dynamited the boatmen's cabin; Sla-
son Morey that killed the miller down
at Elk for refusing him credit; the
Perrin boys that shot the two revenue
officers; the Vances that used to work
in with the Hatfield gang; the Richards
from Tazewell county that poisoned
that gypsy outfit there, and lot of
others. Oh, there's a heap of 'em in
this camp. You couldn't hardly shoot
a man here without making killing
that the law had ought to have made
long ago.
If the lumbermen are brutalized
there is nothing in their lives to re-
claim them from still worse depths.
Their life is a bitter one, particularly
in winter They must be up at
O'Clock to take the train over the
mountain where the cutting is in pro-
gress. By they are at work. With
an hour at noon for lunch excepted,
they cut and haul all day and come
home so wearied that they can hardly
crawl. Most of them are too far from
the store to come down except on
Saturday nights; they tumble in their
filthy beds and sleep until the early
call. The women are much of the same
type; frowsy, old beforer their time,
chewers of snuff, drinkers of vile Ii
quor when they can get it, degraded
in thought and speech.
The worst of it is that these crea-
lures are descendants of the best blood
of the Virginias. You will find the
fine old Virginia names there; the
faces of the men are often fine in
profile, with high foreheads and we'll
set eyes, but with the lower part of the
face hopelessly slack. You can read
there the degradation of the gradual
descent into barbarism, the degeneracy
of constant intermarriage among a
few families.
But to return to Billy Judd. We met
him some two weeks later. He wore