The Prescott daily news., 1914-09-09
UP IN A BALLOON
By John TweeZer.

don't care to tell, but at any rate it was at the age of knee pants that l had the craving for adventure com mon to a reckless school boy. l read stories of the sea and jungle, and of the wild and woody west, but what fascinated my imagination most was a story of an adventure a man had with a balloon. Ever since that time 1 have had mainia for balloons and parachoots, and, no doubt l would have been a bird-man today, if l had not met with an adventure 1 am now going to tell you about.
 My earliest recolections go back to little rocky farm nestled down among the hills of East Tennessee, where my father with the assistance of a hired man, grew a few bushels of corn which was made into moon shine whiskey by a crude process call ed distilling.
 How long my father had been en- gagged in the illicit distilling business, l don't know, as far back as l can remember, he would take me to the spring in his arms, and seat me on a large boulder that overhung the spring, and tell me to keep lookout for strangers That has been long time ago, but the fumes that arose from that so called mountain dew, fingers fresh in my nostrils today.
 1 shall never forget the day the Revenue officers carried father to Nashville. Mother had prepared good dinner It was her custom, and had been as far back as l can remem- Der, to give father a good dinner on his birthday But on this occasion, 1 think she excelled all her former efforts.
 When we had taken our seats at the table, father folded his hands on his plate, and cleared up his throat. We all reverently bowed our heads to re- ceive the blessing. But when father saw that old cut-glass decanter that occupied a conspicuous place at his elbow was empty, he cut out the bless ing, and told the hired man to take the decanter to the spring Che always called it the spring) and fill it up. It was like "Noah sending the birds out of the Ark, only there was no olive branch. The hired man nor the decan- ter never came back.
 We ate our dinner in silence, as father seemed to be troubled about something. He was not communica- tive. So when he had finished his dinner he got up from the table and went out, presumably to look for the hired man.
 It was late in the evening. The sun had gone down behind the mountains, when l saw father hurrying along the well beaten path that leads up from the spring, He was not alone. Two strange men were with him. Mother saw them coming and hurried out to meet them. l knew from the guns the strangers carried, and the troubl- GU lOOh Oll AeiCii1lo ltiNC biitit oOiilC thing was wrong When mother met them, father put his arms affection ately around her waist, and as they walked along tword the house, he told her that he would have to go to Nash vile, with the gentlemen. Then it dawned upon my mind that the gentle men were Revenue officers.
 Mother was a brave woman She was a typical mountain product. If need be she could handle a gun, or make a run of mo0n-shine whiskey. She never finched from what she thought her duty towards her hus- band or children. So when father told her that he must go. she did not greah down and weep upon his neck. She kept bacl; her tears, and told him that she would send me along with him to bring back the team and a few articles she might need while he was away.
 It was an all night ride to Nash vile, over rough mountainous road. It was o'clock in the morning when we arrived at the Federal prison, and after few preliminaries, father was locked behind the bars.
 It happened at that particular time, a county fair was on at Nashville The town was full of people. The brass band headed by company of