metheglin still as well as moonshine. Moreover, there were still
log-rollings, house-warmings, corn-shuckings, and quilting
parties, and sports were the same as in pioneer days--wrestling,
racing, jumping, and lifting barrels. Often he saw a cradle of
beegum, and old Judd had in his house a fox-horn made of hickory
bark which even June could blow. He ran across old-world
superstitions, too, and met one seventh son of a seventh son who
cured children of rash by blowing into their mouths. And he got
June to singing transatlantic songs, after old Judd said one day
that she knowed the "miserablest song he'd ever heerd"--meaning
the most sorrowful. And, thereupon, with quaint simplicity, June
put her heels on the rung of her chair, and with her elbows on her
knees, and her chin on both bent thumbs, sang him the oldest
version of "Barbara Allen" in a voice that startled Hale by its
power and sweetness. She knew lots more "song-ballets," she said
shyly, and the old man had her sing some songs that were rather
rude, but were as innocent as hymns from her lips.

Everywhere he found unlimited hospitality.

"Take out, stranger," said one old fellow, when there was nothing
on the table but some bread and a few potatoes, "have a tater.
Take two of 'em--take damn nigh ALL of 'em."

Moreover, their pride was morbid, and they were very religious.
Indeed, they used religion to cloak their deviltry, as honestly as
it was ever used in history. He had heard old Judd say once, when
he was speaking of the feud:

"Well, I've al'ays laid out my enemies. The Lord's been on my side