the complete writings-4-第40节

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levated　above　the　stream　and　tree…　shaded；　offering　always　charming　glimpses　of　swift　water　and　overhanging　foliage　（the　railway　obligingly　taking　the　other　side　of　the　river）；　to　Paint　Rock；six　miles。　　This　Paint　Rock　is　a　naked　precipice　by　the　roadside；　perhaps　sixty　feet　high；　which　has　a　large　local　reputation。　　It　is　said　that　its　face　shows　painting　done　by　the　Indians；　and　hieroglyphics　which　nobody　can　read。　　On　this　bold；　crumbling　cliff；　innumerable　visitors　have　written　their　names。　　We　stared　at　it　a　good　while　to　discover　the　paint　and　hieroglyphics；　but　could　see　nothing　except　iron　stains。　　Round　the　corner　is　a　farmhouse　and　place　of　call　for　visitors；　a　neat　cottage；　with　a　display　of　shells　and　minerals　and　flower…pots；　and　here　we　turned　north　crossed　the　little　stream　called　Paint　River；　the　only　clear　water　we　had　seen　in　a　month；　passed　into　the　State　of　Tennessee；　and　by　a　gentle　ascent　climbed　Paint　Mountain。　　The　open　forest　road；　with　the　murmur　of　the　stream　below；　was　delightfully　exhilarating；　and　as　we　rose　the　prospect　opened；the　lovely　valley　below；　Bald　Mountains　behind　us；　and　the　Butt　Mountains　rising　as　we　came　over　the　ridge。

Nobody　on　the　way；　none　of　the　frowzy　women　or　unintelligent　men；　knew　anything　of　the　route；　or　could　give　us　any　information　of　the　country　beyond。　　But　as　we　descended　in　Tennessee　the　country　and　the　farms　decidedly　improved；apple…trees　and　a　grapevine　now　and　then。

A　ride　of　eight　miles　brought　us　to　Waddle's；　hungry　and　disposed　to　receive　hospitality。　　We　passed　by　an　old　farm　building　to　a　new　two…　storied；　gayly　painted　house　on　a　hill。　　We　were　deceived　by　appearances。　　The　new　house；　with　a　new　couple　in　it；　had　nothing　to　offer　us　except　some　buttermilk。　　Why　should　anybody　be　obliged　to　feed　roving　strangers？　　As　to　our　horses；　the　young　woman　with　a　baby　in　her　arms　declared；

〃We've　got　nothing　for　stock　but　roughness；　perhaps　you　can　get　something　at　the　other　house。〃

〃Roughness；〃　we　found　out　at　the　other　house；　meant　hay　in　this　region。　　We　procured　for　the　horses　a　light　meal　of　green　oats；　and　for　our　own　dinner　we　drank　at　the　brook　and　the　Professor　produced　a　few　sonnets。　　On　this　sustaining　repast　we　fared　on　nearly　twelve　miles　farther；　through　a　rolling；　good　farming　country；　offering　little　for　comment；　in　search　of　a　night's　lodging　with　one　of　the　brothers　Snap。　　But　one　brother　declined　our　company　on　the　plea　that　his　wife　was　sick；　and　the　other　because　his　wife　lived　in　Greenville；　and　we　found　ourselves　as　dusk　came　on　without　shelter　in　a　tavernless　land。　　Between　the　two　refusals　we　enjoyed　the　most　picturesque　bit　of　scenery　of　the　day；　at　the　crossing　of　Camp　Creek；　a　swift　little　stream；　that　swirled　round　under　the　ledge　of　bold　rocks　before　the　ford。　　This　we　learned　was　a　favorite　camp…meeting　ground。　　Mary　was　calling　the　cattle　home　at　the　farm　of　the　second　Snap。　　It　was　a　very　peaceful　scene　of　rural　life；　and　we　were　inclined　to　tarry；　but　Mary；　instead　of　calling　us　home　with　the　cattle；　advised　us　to　ride　on　to　Alexander's　before　it　got　dark。

It　is　proper　to　say　that　at　Alexander's　we　began　to　see　what　this　pleasant　and　fruitful　country　might　be；　and　will　be；　with　thrift　and　intelligent　farming。　　Mr。　Alexander　is　a　well…to…do　farmer；　with　plenty　of　cattle　and　good　barns　（always　an　evidence　of　prosperity）；　who　owes　his　success　to　industry　and　an　open　mind　to　new　ideas。　　He　was　a　Unionist　during　the　war；　and　is　a　Democrat　now；　though　his　county　（Greene）　has　been　Republican。　　We　had　been　riding　all　the　afternoon　through　good　land；　and　encountering　a　better　class　of　farmers。　　Peach…trees　abounded　（though　this　was　an　off　year　for　fruit）；　and　apples　and　grapes　throve。　　It　is　a　land　of　honey　and　of　milk。　　The　persimmon　flourishes；　and；　sign　of　abundance　generally；　we　believe；　great　flocks　of　turkey…buzzardsmajestic　floaters　in　the　high　airhovered　about。　　This　country　was　ravaged　during　the　war　by　Unionists　and　Confederates　alternately；　the　impartial　patriots　as　they　passed　scooping　in　corn；　bacon；　and　good　horses；　leaving　the　farmers　little　to　live　on。　　Mr。　Alexander's　farm　cost　him　forty　dollars　an　acre；　and　yields　good　crops　of　wheat　and　maize。　　This　was　the　first　house　on　our　journey　where　at　breakfast　we　had　grace　before　meat；　though　there　had　been　many　tables　that　needed　it　more。　　From　the　door　the　noble　range　of　the　Big　Bald　is　in　sight　and　not　distant；　and　our　host　said　he　had　a　shanty　on　it；　to　which　he　was　accustomed　to　go　with　his　family　for　a　month　or　six　weeks　in　the　summer　and　enjoy　a　real　primitive　woods　life。

Refreshed　by　this　little　touch　of　civilization；　and　with　horses　well　fed；　we　rode　on　next　morning　towards　Jonesboro；　over　a　rolling；　rather　unpicturesque　country；　but　ennobled　by　the　Big　Bald　and　Butt　ranges；　which　we　had　on　our　right　all　day。　　At　noon　we　crossed　the　Nollechucky　River　at　a　ford　where　the　water　was　up　to　the　saddle　girth；　broad；　rapid；　muddy；　and　with　a　treacherous　stony　bottom；　and　came　to　the　little　hamlet　of　Boylesville；　with　a　flour…mill；　and　a　hospitable　old…fashioned　house；　where　we　found　shelter　from　the　heat　of　the　hot　day；　and　where　the　daughters　of　the　house；　especially　one　pretty　girl　in　a　short　skirt　and　jaunty　cap；　contradicted　the　currently　received　notion　that　this　world　is　a　weary　pilgrimage。　　The　big　parlor；　with　its　photographs　and　stereoscope；　and　bits　of　shell　and　mineral；　a　piano　and　a　melodeon；　and　a　coveted　old　sideboard　of　mahogany；　recalled　rural　New　England。　　Perhaps　these　refinements　are　due　to　the　Washington　College　（a　school　for　both　sexes）；　which　is　near。　　We　noted　at　the　tables　in　this　region　a　singular　use　of　the　word　fruit。　　When　we　were　asked；　Will　you　have　some　of　the　fruit？　and　said　Yes；　we　always　got　applesauce。

Ten　miles　more　in　the　late　afternoon　brought　us　to　Jonesboro；　the　oldest　town　in　the　State；　a　pretty　place；　with　a　flavor　of　antiquity；　set　picturesquely　on　hills；　with　the　great　mountains　in　sight。　People　from　further　South　find　this　an　agreeable　summering　place；　and　a　fair　hotel；　with　odd　galleries　in　front　and　rear；　did　not　want　company。　　The　Warren　Institute　for　negroes　has　been　flourishing　here　ever　since　the　war。

A　ride　of　twenty　miles　next　day　carried　us　to　Union。　　Before　noon　we　forded　the　Watauga；　a　stream　not　so　large　as　the　Nollechucky；　and　were　entertained　at　the　big　brick　house　of　Mr。　Devault；　a　prosperous　and　hospitable　farmer。　　This　is　a　rich　country。　　We　had　met　in　the　morning　wagon…loads　of　watermelons　and　muskmelons；　on　the　way　to　Jonesboro；　and　Mr。　Devault　set　abundance　of　these　refreshing　fruits　before　us　as　we　lounged　on　the　porch　before　dinner。

It　was　here　that　we　made　the　acquaintance　of　a　colored　woman；　a　withered；　bent　old　pensioner　of　the　house；　whose　industry　（she　excelled　any　modern　patent　apple…parer）　was　unabated；　although　she　was　by　her　own　confession　（a　woman；　we　believe；　never　owns　her　age　till　she　has　passed　this　point）　and　the　testimony　of　others　a　hundred　years　old。　　But　age　had　not　impaired　the　brightness　of　her　eyes；　nor　the　limberness　of　her　tongue；　nor　her　shrewd　good　sense。　　She　talked　freely　about　the　want　of　decency　and　morality　in　the　young　colored　folks　of　the　present　day。　　It　was　n't　so　when　she　was　a　girl。　　Long；　long　time　ago；　she　and　her　husband　had　been　sold　at　sheriff's　sale　and　separated；　and　she　never　had　another　husband。　　Not　that　she　blamed　her　master　so　much　he　could　n't　help　it；　he　got　in　debt。　　And　she　expounded　her　philosophy　about　the　rich；　and　the　danger　they　are　in。　　The　great　trouble　is　that　when　a　person　is　rich；　he　can　borrow　money　so　easy；　and　he　keeps　drawin'　it　out　of　the　bank　and　pilin'　up　the　debt；　like　rails　on　top　of　one　another；　till　it　needs　a　ladder　to　get　on　to　the　pile；　and　then　it　all　comes　down　in　a　heap；　and　the　man　has　to　begin　on　the　bottom　rail　again。　　If　she'd　to　live　her　life　over　again；　she'd　lay　up　money；　never　cared　much　about　it　till　now。　The　thrifty；　shrewd　old　woman　still　walked　about　a　good　deal；　and　kept　her　eye　on　the　neighborhood。　　Going　out　that　morning　she　had　seen　some　fence　up　the　road　that　needed　mending；　and　she　told　Mr。　Devault　that　she　didn't　like　such　shiftlessness；　she　didn't　know　as　white　folks　was　much　better　than　colored　folks。　　Slavery？　　Yes；　slavery　was　pretty　badshe　had　seen　five　hundred　niggers　in　handcuffs；　all　together　in　a　field；　sold　to　be　sent　South。

About　six　miles　from　here　is　a　beech　grove　of　historical　interest；　worth　a　visit　if　we　could　have　spared　the　time。　　In　it　is　the　large　beech　（six　and　a　half　feet　around　six　feet　from　the　ground）　on　which　Daniel　Boone　shot　a　bear；　when　he　was　a　rover　in　this　region。　　He　himself　cut　an　inscription　on　the　tree　recording　his　prowess；　and　it　is　still　distinctly　legible：

　　　　　D。　BOONE　CILT　A　BAR　ON　THIS　TREE；　1760。

This　tree　is　a　place　of　pilgrimage；　and　names　of　people　from　all　parts　of　the　country　are　cut　on　it；　until　there　is　scarcely　room　for　any　more　records　of　such　devotion。　　The　grove　is　ancient　looking；　the　trees　are　gnarled　and　moss…grown。　　Hundreds　of　people　go　there；　and　the　trees　are　carved　all　over　with　their　immortal　names。

A　pleasant　ride　over　a　rich　rolling　country；　with　an　occasional　strip　of　forest；　brought　us　to　Union　in　the　evening；　with　no　other