The Washington herald., 1913-11-06

not search oversee for a glimpse at
primitive living.
Just such an echo comes from the
secluded heart OF the Cumberland Noun
tains, that stern, rough land where
feudists are born. And perhaps to most
OF US 1t brings revelation, for. casually
reading now and then Of bitter feuds,
Of moonshiners, and of gross illiteracy,
we had the half-formed idea that the
mountaineers were born uncouth and
were held in quite willing bondage to
their own undeveloped. vicious natures.
But the echo throws another light on
these dwellers In q wilderness.
It was go years ago that their great
grandfathers came TO this country and
drifted to the 'way-back hills of Ken
lucky, strong. splendid. fearless men of
the revolutionary type. But there were
no roads over the rugged mountains,
scarcely way in, nor yet a way out;
and the sturdy, simple mountaineers did
not keep pace with a growing world.
indeed they fell back for awhile and
then for century or so stood still For
their conditions OF living have been as
stern as the hills around them.
And back In that shut-in country,
where little folk were not sent to school
because there were no schools and where
they did not find their way to a wider
life because there seemed to be no out
let men still plow the rugged land with
century-old plows or till It with ancient
hoes. And women still ride horseback,
seated as Of old, behind their menfolk,
still stand back OF their lords at table,
serving while they eat, Just as In the
days OF long ago. And their manner of
speaking still savors OF other days. The
old-time loom and spinning-wheeI are
there, and women and children take
hoes In their hands and go to their labor
in the fields no less than the men There
are no factories, no industries. only the
smoke that curls upward from the many
little log cabins scattered about on the
hills. for there Is scarcely a frame build
ing to be found in a whole days jour
ney. and that quite barren OF paint.
though much blood has been spilled on
these mountains in the feuds that have
been carried along with the years. these
brave, fair-minded people are deeply
swayed by fervent religious spirit. No
body knows what started the first bitter
feud, property. affections or what, but
they count II a serious inheritance from
father to son and begin their raids after
long sessions OF prayer in the little log
churches where they worship. We
cannot pretend to understand the spirit
that prompts them to accept the bloody
legacy, but we must believe the high es-
innate put upon these men and women
who sometimes are moonshiners some-
times raiders and feudists, but always,
back OF that strange combination, are
the types that have In their makeup
the sturdiest of characteristics,
And We must believe 1t because in the
stories that come from those side
tracked folk on the desolate mountains
We see them waiting, eagerly. pitifully
enough, for the little educational light
that is shifting through the darkness.
It was a mountaineer himself, ignor-
ant, a young feudist with the rest, who
first felt the crying need Of light and
who, practically alonts worked his way
out OF the wilderness
Burns Of the Mountains" they cali
him, the man who with just seventeen
brief months of schooling, dreamed
about developing those shut-in folk; with
their great possibilities, on wider newer
lines, dreamed and then proceeded 10
bring it about.
Twenty-seven years old, with slim
enough educational start to his credit,
he had felt the pity OF those strong
minded, big-bodied and spirited men
and women forever remaining bound
in the shackIes OF ignorance. and he
knew that they never could get out
where schools abound and that the
schools must be brought to them. So he
called meeting Of the mountaineers-
armed feudists, they were. almost to a
man, some on one side, some on another
and told them his hopes for their sons,
how he was planning to bring to them a
chance to grow as they themselves never
had grown And since they were not in
the rut OF ignorance because they willed
it so rather because they knew no way
out, they gladly listened as his plans un-
folded. and willingly promised their help.
Then and there they signed their names
or made their marks, but few Of them
could write at all-for the charter for
the new school which was to give to
their sons opportunities unknown to
them.
to build his school, but it came drift
ing in and he quarried and laid the
foundations for the first building ali
by himself-Oneida Institute It was to
he. Then some of the neighbors helped
on the woodwork, and there on the
in a strange, forbidding set
ting, the rude building was built by
hands that scarcely knew how to hold
a pen. 1t Is too long a story to tell how
1t grew under his leadership and how he,
too, grew educationaIly and otherwise:
but it did grow, through his own and
outside help and socn the boys came
pouring in from the outlying hills, for
fifty miles around. And they tell that
one day an old mountaineer and his
three daughters forded the Kentucky
River on two stout mules and came
stumbling up to the school from fifty
miles away. Not one OF them could
read or write but they had heard Of
the school, and the father brought his
girls to give them chance to learn.
But there was no place for them, no
to make a place; and the
teacher sadly watched them
turn about, ford the river again and
go back to their log cabin home. Well
enough he knew their disappointment,
and very soon thereafter building was
started for girls.
And it costs just s. a month for a
SON or daughter to go to
the school. 81 for board, room and tut |
ton, but that Is too much for some OF
the homes to spare.
Small wonder that this worker among |
his people. who has gone about the |
country telling of his school and his
hopes for the future, tells that when he
first saw a man pay a dollar for a |
single meal II seemed to him almost a |
Lrime.
For he knows what a chance for learn |
Ing means to these vigorous mountain |
eers when he sees a woman etghty-six |
years old going to school to learn to read
and write, and when he stands in the