U.S. Data Repository -- USGenNet Inc. -- Please read the U.S. Data Repository Copyright Statement on the following page: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (pages 213-242) Chapter XI Songs and Legends The history of nations, in the sense in which I use the word, is often best studied in works not professedly historical. 覧Macaulay. I know a very wise man who believed that if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation.覧Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun. The great eventful Present hides the Past, but through the din Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life behind steal in, And the lore of home and fireside and the legendary rhyme Make the task of duty lighter which the true man owes his time. 覧Whittier. Of all the pleasant times in the old home, the evening hours around the wide chimney- place, with the firelight dancing on the walls, throwing shadows into the dark corners of the cabin and casting a mysterious gloom over the homely furniture, must have seemed the best. There were no daily papers and popular maga- zines to occupy the time and minds of the house- hold, but grandfather's great-grandfather was a famous story-teller, and his store of Indian legends and witch tales, enriched by contribu- tions of negro folklore, was a source of end- less delight. Besides, grandmother's great- grandmother knew the ballads that had been handed down in her family since her adven- turous forefathers crossed the ocean to build up a new order of things in a strange world, and these she sang to the children gathered around the hearth. The very little ones were put to sleep first, so the happy household sat quietly in the firelight while the mother rocked the cradle and softly crooned the ballad of Lord Lovel and Lady Nancy覧strange personages to haunt the pioneer's rude abode覧but the little frontier children heard how "Lord Lovel stood by his castle gate a-combing his milk- white steed" before he left his lady love to be gone for "a year and a day"; and how the longing to see her overcame him until at last he returned覧only to find her dead. * * * * * * * He traveled on and he traveled on, Till he came to London town, And there he saw a funeral gang, With the people all gathered 'round, 'round, 'round; With the people all gathered 'round. "Oh, who is dead?" Lord Lovel, he cried. And "Who is dead?" cried he; "Tis the lord's own lady," the people replied; "Some call her the Lady Nancy-ee-ee, Some call her the Lady Nancy." He ordered the grave to be opened forthwith. And the shroud to be turned down. And there he kissed the cold, pale lips. While the tears they came trickling down, down, down; While the tears they came trickling down. Lord Lovel was laid by St. Peter's Church, Lady Nancy was laid in the choir, And out of her breast there sprang a red rose. And out of his a green brier-ier-ier; And out of his a green brier. They grew and they grew to the church steeple top, And they could not grow any higher. So there they formed a true lovers' knot; The red rose 'round the green brier-ier-ier. The red rose 'round the green brier. * * * * * * * _____________________________________________________ Note覧The compilers of this work have made no effort to secure an absolutely correct copy of this, nor of other songs given them. The whole object has been to give them as they were sung by the people of the time. This particular song was contributed by Samuel Kelley, who got it from his grandmother, to whom it had been handed down through many generations. Or perchance, if her people were of the hardy Scotch-Irish race, so many of which crossed the mountains in the early days, the mother soothed the child's last waking moments with the low murmured assurance: Hush you, hush you, do not fret you. The Black Douglas shall not gel you, and the pioneer imagination, accustomed as it was to the unusual apparitions of the forest, might even conjure up the mailed figure of a Scottish chief within the cabin walls. Perhaps the next child was old enough to appreciate the repetition of this: One duck. Two ducks and a fat hen. Three plump partridges, two ducks and a fat hen. Four white weasels, three plump partridges, two ducks and a fat hen. Five hares headless, four white weasels, three plump partridges, two ducks and a fat hen. Six mares and manes and tails all in very good order, five hares headless, four white weasels, three plump partridges, two ducks and a fat hen. Seven crows a-croakin' on a crab tree crackin', six mares and manes and tails all in very good order, five hares headless, four white weasels, three plump part- ridges, two ducks and a fat hen. Eight transmogrified priests in a mass house preach- in', seven crows a-croakin' on a crab tree crackin*, six mares and manes and tails all in very good order, five hares headless, four white weasels, three plump part- ridges, two ducks and a fat hen. Nine nanny-hammers in the oven a-dancin', eight transmogrified priests in a mass house preachin', seven crows a-croakin' on a crab tree crackin', six mares and manes and tails all in very good order, five hares head- less, four white weasels, three plump partridges, two ducks and a fat hen. Ten gray geese in a grain field grazin', nine nanny- hammers in the oven a-dancin', eight transmogrified priests in a mass house preachin*, seven crows a-croakin on a crab tree crackin', six mares and manes and tails all in very good order, five hares headless, four white weasels, three plump partridges, two ducks and a fat hen. Eleven piggie wiggies in a grain field rootin', ten gray geese in a grain field grazin', nine nanny-hammers in the oven a-dancin*, eight transmogrified priests in a mass house preachin', seven crows a-croakin* on a crab tree crackin', six mares and manes and tails all in very good order, five hares headless, four white weasels, three plump partridges, two ducks and a fat hen. Or the favorite nonsense jingle: Ring dum dero kity mit a ki mo. Ring dum dal li mit a ki mo. Rum strip pop a do ale ar buck a ring. Ring dum dal li mit a ki mo, A song which undoubtedly originated among the emigrants of the Emerald Isle was very popular: Lady Leroy. As I was a-walking one morning in May, The fields were all green and all nature was gay, I spied a fair couple on Erin's green shore A-viewing the ocean where the wild billows roar. This song recited the woes of the lovers until覧 They landed in Boston, a city of fame, All chiefs and commanders will tell you the same. After they覧 Had hoisted their sails and had shouted for joy. And over the ocean sailed Lady Leroy. There was another song, quite as popular as the preceding one: "Well met, well met, my old true love. Well met, well met," says he; "I've just returned from the briny salt sea, And it's all for the love of thee. "I could have married the king's daughter fair, And she would have wedded me; But I refused the crown and her gold. And it's all for the love of thee." "If you could have married the king's daughter fair. Then I'm sure you are far to blame. For I have married a house carpenter. And he is a nice young man." "And if you'll forsake your house carpenter And go along with me, I'll take you where the grass grows green. On the banks of the sweet Velvery." "And if I forsake my house carpenter. And go along with thee, What hast thou to maintain me on. And keep me from slavery?" "Four and twenty ships a-sailing on the sea, All sailing for dry land; Five hundred and twenty-five brave sailor lads. All sailing at my command." She picked up her pretty little babe. And gave it kisses three. And laid it on a fine feather bed. And bade it go to sleep. "Lie there, lie there. My pretty little babe; Lie there, lie there," said she, "And keep your past company. They had not been on sea two weeks覧 I'm sure it was not three覧 Before the fair maid began to weep, And she wept most bitterly. "Is it for my gold you weep. Or is it for my store. Or is it for your house carpenter. Whom you shall see no more?" "It is neither for your gold I weep. Nor is it for your store, But it's all for the love of my pretty babe, Which I shall see no more. "If I had ten thousand pounds, I would give it all to thee. If I could be on shore once more, My pretty babe to see." "If you had ten thousand pounds. And would double it also to me. You could not be on shore once more. Your pretty babe to see." They had not been on sea three weeks覧 I'm sure it was not four覧 Before this old ship sprung a leak. And sank to rise no more. Around and around went the old ship. Around and around went she; First to the right and then to the left. Till she sank to the bottom of the sea. A song that reveals more of patriotism than it does poetic ability on the part of the writer was composed about 1795 and, while it is merely mirth-provoking now, was sung with spirit in every frontier cabin then: St. Clair's Defeat. 1. On November the fourth. In the year '91, We had a sore engagement, Near the Fort Jefferson. 2. At Bunker Hill and Quebec, Ah! Many a hero fell, Likewise at Long Island覧 The truth to you I'll tell. 3. St. Clair was our commander. As may remembered be. And we left nine hundred gallant men In the Northwest Territory. 4. Our militia was attacked Just as the day did break. They soon were overpowered And forced to retreat. 5. Said Major Gibson to his men: "My braves, be not dismayed, I know the true Virginians Were never yet afraid." 6. They killed Majors Oldham, Bevin, Biggs and Wise, And the horrid yell of savages Resounded to the skies. 7. Said Col. Clark: "My heroes, We can no longer stand, We'll fall back in order And retreat the best we can." 8. The word retreat was passed around. Then rose a deafening cry, And helter-skelter through the woods. Like lost sheep we did fly. 9. We left the wounded in the field. Oh, heavens what a sight! Some had their thigh bones broken. Some were cut by the scalping knife. 10. But there's one bright consolation. We'll all meet again. Around the throne in Heaven, Where parting is unknown. To the older children, stories of conflicts be- tween the settlers and the Indians were a con- stant source of delight, for the stern lessons of the woods had instilled in them a craving for excitement and adventure, and little did they know but that lurking outside the walls might be an enemy with whom they would have to contend. We are told of one little girl who, after listening to a narration of this kind, dreamed that she was being pursued by savages, and on awakening to find a wig horribly re- sembling a scalp dangling on a corner of her four-poster bed, went into hysterics. Equally exciting were the stories of witches who were to be feared no less than the savages, being even more dangerous because of the power of their sorcery, which rendered them impervious to attack. These stories were told with bated breath, for did not everyone know that an old witchwife, who lived in Fairmont on what is now Locust Avenue, had cast her spell on the hounds owned by Dr. William Devies, who was a brother-in-law of Alfred Fleming, and caused them to go mad? But Dr. Devies, being learned in the lore of witch- craft, knew how to break the spell: he drew a picture of the sorceress, which he shot with two silver bullets, causing the wicked woman to be crippled in the spine and the power of witchcraft to depart from her. Never did people of the Middle Ages believe more firmly that in melting a waxen image they destroyed the body of which the wax was an effigy than did the neighbors of Dr. Devies believe this story. Then, too, rumor said there was a be- witched tree in Pleasant Valley, south of Palatine, that had the power of causing any- one who broke a branch from it to be affected with sore eyes. One philanthropist of the time, wishing to bestow a blessing on posterity, labored all his life, it is told, trying to cut down this tree, his son taking up the good work after the father's death; but although both these good men chopped and chopped, as fast as the chips flew from the tree the wound healed over. When such startling occurrences as these were given full credence, it is no wonder that the report that a spring in a bewitched meadow possessed such magical properties that all who drank from its waters were increased to twice their natural size was accepted as gospel, or that the story of the settler who, emulating the example of Dr. Devies, melted a silver coin into a bullet with which to shoot a sorceress who had turned the water of his spring into sour milk, awed every hearer. The settler was not as successful as Dr. Devies, for the sorceress, divining his intentions, took the form of the wife, while she transformed the wife into a witch who received the bullet; all of which went to prove that mortals were powerless against the powers of darkness. One witch story told in the Flem- ing family ran as follows: Once upon a time there was an old witch whose power enabled her to turn men into horses. When at night she came over the roof, the bridle which she carried could be heard rattling, and the man within the house knew that his fate was sealed. After she had turned the man into a horse, she mounted her steed and gaily rode away through the night. And once upon a time, when one of these horses was prancing about, the witch gave him so sharp a cut with her riding-whip that the scar was always visible, after he had again taken the form of a man. A company of nine men determined to visit the witch's house and find wherein her power lay. They bravely climbed upon the roof and looked down through the great chimney, for they felt sure that this chimney had something to do with her sorcery. The leader of the band was blind in one eye, and as he peered down the chimney he beheld the witch taking fish, one by one, from the wall, where they had been drying, and heard her saying, in a weird voice: "That one goes, that one goes," as she counted them. Finally, taking down the ninth fish, she ex- claimed, in a rasping tone: "This is the last one, and it has only one eye." The man with one eye fled, his eight companions following on his trail, and so the knowledge of where the witch's power came from re- mained as much a mystery as ever. Witch tales naturally led to those of ghostly visitors, a favorite tale being that told in differ- ent localities under various forms of the negro who, on being chased from a haunted house by an apparition, sat down, out of breath, on a log to rest. The ghost likewise sat down on the log. "We made that mile in no time," he announced. "Yes," said the darkey, "an' we'll make the next in less than that." A tale was told how Dan and Steve Morgan, by dressing up in sheets, frightened a neighbor who had imbibed too freely at a corn husking given by them until he beat to death his own dog, which sprang to meet him at his door. A story that gained wide credence was sup- posed to have had its inception in a corn husk- ing that occurred in '49. On this occasion nothing stronger was served than fruit and buttermilk, but on their way home three of the merrymakers覧an aged man and his two daughters覧saw lights in the meeting-house win- dow, a la Tam O'Shanter. The nearer they came to the church the brighter the light showed, and when they opened the church door they be- held a man standing, holding a lamp in each hand. Pale with fright, the old man asked: "What does this mean?" but the apparition vanished, and no one ever knew who it was, whence it came, or whither it went. "Johnny Booger" was a song that appealed to those who knew the trials of a trip across the mountains of Virginia覧a journey necessary to procure salt and other comforts which aided greatly in making life endurable in the wilder- ness: As I drobe down to Lynchburg town, I broke my yoke on de sfartin' ground, Drobe from dar fo Balden Springs, And hollered fer to men' my yoke and rings. Chorus, Ole Johnny Booger, help dis nigger, Ole Johnny Booger, do; Ole Johnny Booger, help dis nigger, Do, fo' de Lawd's sake do. Drobe from dar to Wright's ole shop. An' hollered at de driver fer to stop. Says I, "Ole man, can you men' my yoke?' He picked up de hammer an' he blowed up de smoke. An' when he men' my yoke an' rings, Says I, "Ole man, do you charge me anything?" Says he, "Young man, I nebber charge Without de job is berry large; An' that yo' job is berry small, I'll not charge you anything at all." Drobe from dar to Ant'ny's Mill, An' tried to pull up dat dar hill, I whipped my steers an' I pushed my cart. But bless de Lawd, I couldn't make a start. Dar come a waggoner dribin' by, I sal down on de groun' an' 'gun to cry. Says I, "Ole man, some pity take. An' help me up for conscience sake." I wipe my eyes from de fallin' tears. An' I hitch his bosses 'fore my steers, An' dem dar bosses, big an' strong. Golly, dey help dis nigger 'long. Negro songs and folklore, gathered up here and there from the few slaves from eastern Virginia, never failed to please the children. The Flemings and several other Marion County families had slaves. The following is a bit of negro folklore: Story of Ole Mis' Rabbit and Ole Mistah Wolf. or Mistah Rabbit and Mis' Rabbit an' the four little Rabbits lived in th' stump of a holler tree; an' ev'ry morning' when ol' Mistah Rabbit went to work, ol* Mis' Rabbit let him down out o' th' tree with a rope; an' ev'ry mornin' befo' he left, ol' Mistah Rabbit says to ol' Mis' Rabbit: "Now, Mis' Rabbit, don' yo' let anybody up in dis tree, fo' ol' Mistah Wolf does suah 'nough like to eat young rabbits." An' ev'ry evenin' when he come home, he stood at de fool of th' holler tree an' sung: "A-bussIn", an' a-bussin', an' a-bussin', bussin', Jinny, A-bussin', an' a-bussin', an' a-bussin', bussin'. Jinny," An' then ol' Mis' Rabbit 'ud let down th' rope an' pull ol' Mistah Rabbit up into th' tree. Now, ol' Mistah Wolf watched ol' Mistah Rabbit go to work in the mornin' an' come home in th' evenin', so one day when he thought Mistah Rabbit was safe out o' th' way, he went to th' foot o' th' holler tree an* there he stood an' sung: "A-bussin', an' a-bussin', an' a-bussin', bussin'. Jinny, A-bussin", an' a-bussin*, an' a-bussin', bussin'. Jinny," a-thinkin' he'd fool ol' Mis' Rabbit. But ol' Mistah Wolf's voice was hoarse, an' it sounded way down in his throat, so ol' Mis' Rabbit poked her head out o' th* hole in th' holler tree, an' she says, "Go 'long, Mistah Wolf, yo' can't fool me; ol' Mistah Rabbit done tole me not t' let any visitors git in dis tree, 'an yo' don* soun' like a rabbit, nohow." So ol' Mistah Wolf went off t' th' blacksmith who lived on th' edge o' th' forest, an' had th' blacksmith run a red-hot poker down his throat, so that his voice would sound like a rabbit's; an' then he went back t' th' holler tree an' sung: "A-bussin', an' a-bussin', an' a-bussin', bussin'. Jinny, A-bussin*, an' a-bussin', an' a-bussin', bussin*. Jinny." An* ol' Mis' Rabbit let th' rope down, an' pulled ol* Mistah Wolf up in th' holler tree, Well, all them little rabbits was scared plum' to death. They crep' into th' corner o' that holler tree, an' there they sat an' shivered an' shook, an' kep' a-watchin' ol' Mistah Wolf, who was a-roUin' his eyes an' a-lickin' his chops, somethin' awful. But ol' Mis' Rabbit, she says, just as 'plite as pie, *cept that she was a-shakin' an' a-shiverln', 'cause she was scared plum' to death, too: "Oh, Mistah Wolf, I am so glad to see you. Now, you jist set right down in this chair, an' I'll git supper." Well, Mistah Wolf thought he might as well have a good supper an' finish th' little rabbits afleiwards, an' besides, ol' Mistah Rabbit would be comin' home, loo. So he sets down in the chair, an' ol' Mis' Rabbit she just flew 'roun'. She got everything good she could find In the house for supper. An' all th' lime ol' Mistah Wolf kep' a-lookin' at them rabbits an' a-rollln' his eyes an' a-lickin' his chops. An' when ol' Mis' Rabbit got th' supper ready, she says, jist as 'plite as pie, 'cepl that she was a-shakin' an' a-shiverln,' 'cause she was scared plum' to death: "Now, Mistah Wolf, yo' jist set right up to this table an' help yo'self." An' Mistah Wolf was so hungry a-watchin' th' little rabbits an' a-roUin' his eyes an' a-llckln' his chops, he et everything right up on th' table; so blme by the bread plate got empty, an' ol Mis' Rabbit she says: "Now, you jist sit still an' let me git yo' some mo' bread, Mistah Wolf." An' when she comes back with th' bread, she kep' th' knife under her apron, but ol' Mistah Wolf was so busy eatin' he didn't notice that. So she comes up behind him, Hke she was a-goin' to set th' bread plate on th' table, an' all at once she stuck th' knife in ol' Mistah Wolf's side, an' he fell down dead. An' all th' little rabbits was tickled plum to death. They come a-scurryin' out o' th' corner, an* helped ol' Mis' Rabbit drag ol' Mistah Wolf to th' edge o' th' holler tree an' push him over. An' when ol' Mistah Rabbit come home that evenin' there he foun' ol' Mistah Wolf. Perhaps the general rejoicing over the timely end of "Mistah Wolf" caused the story-teller to burst into rollicking song: Old Sukey Blueskin fell in love with me. Old Sukey Blueskin fell in love with me. Old Sukey Blueskin fell in love with me. She invited me to her house to have a cup o' lea. Now, what do you think ole Sukey had for supper? What do you think ole Sukey had for supper? What do you think ole Sukey had for supper? Apple-sass, 'sparrer grass, chicken foot and butter. Or覧 As I went down de new town road, Dar I met a rabbit playin' with a toad; Every time de toad would 'gin to jump. The rabbit hid himself behin' a stump. O Jinny, git yo' hoecake done, my lady; Jinny, git yo' hoecake done. "Jim Crack Cawn" was very popular: Oh, Jim crack cawn in de mawnin' Befo' de break o' day; Jim crack cawn in de mawnin', Ole Massa gone away. "Ole Dan Tucker" is too well known to need comment. The "Johnny-cake Story" was probably an older version of the "Gingerbread Man" : Once upon a time an old man and an old woman were sitting beside the fire waiting for a Johnny-cake to bake. The old woman had mixed up some meal with a little water and a little salt, and then she had put it on a board and set it up in front of the fire; and while she and the old man waited for the Johnny- cake to get done, they talked about how good their sup- per would be. "I'll put some maple syrup on my piece," said the old man. "I'll put some milk on mine," said the old woman. Now, while they were talking, the Johnny-cake got done; so he jumped off the board and ran out the door, saying, "Catch me if you can," and the old man and the old woman started after the Johnny-cake, Two men were diggmg a well m the yard. The Johnny-cake ran up to them, saying: "There's an old, old woman and an old, old man. Catch me if you can." And the well-diggers started after the Johnny-cake. Two men were chopping wood by the roadside. The Johnny-cake ran up to them, saying: "There's an old, old woman and an old, old man. Two well-diggers, Catch me if you can. " And the woodchoppers started after the Johnny-cake. Two men were threshing wheat in the barn. The Johnny-cake ran up to them, saying: "There's an old, old woman and an old, old man. Two well-diggers. Two woodchoppers. Catch me if you can." And the barn-threshers started after the Johnny-cake. An old fox was prowlmg around the orchard. The Johnny-cake ran up to him, saying: "There's an old, old woman and an old, old man. Two well-diggers. Two woodchoppers. Two barn-threshers, Catch me if you can." "Hey?" said the old fox. Then the Johnny-cake came a little closer, saying: "There's an old, old woman and an old, old man. Two well-diggers, Two woodchoppers. Two barn-threshers. Catch me if you can." "Come a little closer," said the old fox. "I am very hard of hearing." Then the Johnny-cake came quite close up to him and shouted in his ear: "There's an old, old woman and an old, old man. Two well-diggers. Two woodchoppers, Two barn-threshers, Catch me if you"覧覧 But "snap" went the old fox's teeth, and that was the last of the Johnny-cake. A different "Tar Baby" story from that told by "Uncle Remus" was current in the neighbor- hood, masquerading under the title: The Rabbit Who Wouldn't Help Dig a Well. Once upon a time there was a water famine, and the runs went dry and the creeks went dry and the rivers went dry, and there wasn't any water to be found any- where, so all the animals in the forest met together to see what could be done about it. The lion and the bear and the wolf and the fox and the giraffe and the monkey and the elephant, and even the rabbit覧 everybody who lived in the forest覧was there and they all tried to think of some plan by which they could get water. At last they decided to dig a well, and every- body said that he would help覧all except the rabbit, who always was a lazy little booger, and he said he wouldn't dig. So the animals all said, "Very well, Mr. Rabbit, if you won't help us dig this well, you shan't have one drop of water to drink." But the rab- bit just laughed and said, as smart as you please, "Never mind, you dig the well and I'll get a drink all right." Now the animals all worked very hard覧all except the rabbit覧and soon they had the well so deep that they struck water and they all got a drink and went away to their homes in the forest. But the very next morning what should they find but the rabbit's footprints in the mud at the mouth of the well, and they knew that he had come in the night and stolen some water. So they all began to think how they could keep that lazy little rabbit from getting a drink, and they talked and talked and talked, and after a while they decided that some one must watch the well, but no one seemed to want to stay up to do it. Finally, the bear said: "I'll watch the well the first night. You just go to bed, and I'll show old Mr. Rabbit that he won't get any water while I'm around." So all the animals went away and left him, and the bear sat down by the well. By and by the rabbit came out of the thicket on the hillside and there he saw the old bear guarding the well. At first he didn't know what to do. Then he sat down and began to sing: "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you." Presently the old bear lifted up his head and looked all around. "Where's all that pretty music coming from?" he said. The rabbit kept on singing: "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you." This time the bear got up on his hind feet. The rabbit kept on singing: "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you." Then the bear began to dance, and after a while he danced so far away that the rabbit wasn't afraid of him any longer, and so he climbed down into the well and got a drink and ran away to the thicket. Now, when the animals came the next morning and found the rabbit's footprints in the mud, they made all kinds of fun of old Mr. Bear. They said: "Mr. Bear, you are a fine person to watch a well. Why, even Mr. Rabbit can outwit you." But the bear said: "The rabbit had nothing what- ever to do with it. I was sitting here wide-awake, when suddenly the most beautiful music came right down out of the sky. At least I think it came down out of the sky, for when I went to look for it, I could not find it, and it must have been while I was gone that Mr. Rabbit stole the water." "Anyway," said the other animals, "we can't trust you any more. Mr. Monkey, you had better watch the well to-night, and mind you, you'd better be pretty care- ful or old Mr. Rabbit will fool you. " "I'd like to see him do it," said the monkey. "Just let him try." So the animals set the monkey to watch the well. Presently it grew dark, and all the stars came out; and then the rabbit slipped out of the thicket and peeped over in the direction of the well. There he saw the monkey. Then he sat down on the hillside and began to sing: "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you." "What's that?" said the monkey, all excited. The rabbit kept on singing: "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you." Then the monkey peered down into the well. "It isn't the water," said he. The rabbit kept on singing: "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you. " This time the monkey looked up into the sky. "It isn't the stars," said he. The rabbit kept on singing. This time the monkey looked toward the forest. "It must be the leaves," said he. "Anyway, it's too good music to let go to waste." So he began to dance, and after a while he danced so far away that the rabbit wasn't afraid, so he climbed down into the well and got a drink and ran off to the thicket. Well, the next morning, when all the animals came down and found the footprints again, you should have heard them talk to that monkey. They said: "Mr. Monkey, you are no better than Mr. Bear; neither of you is of any account. You can't catch a rabbit. ' And then the monkey said: "It wasn't old Mr. Rab- bit's fault at all that I left the well. He had nothing to do with it. All at once the most beautiful music that you ever heard came out of those woods, and I went lo see who was making it." But the animals only laughed at him. Then they tried to get some one else to watch the well that night. No one would do it, so they thought and thought and thought about what to do next. Finally, the fox spoke up: "I'll tell you what let's do," said he. "Let's make a tar man and set him to watch the well." "Let's do," said all the animals together. So they worked the whole day long building a tar man, and when night came they went away and left him to watch the well. That night, when the rabbit crept out of the thicket, there he saw the tar man. So he sat down on the hill- side and began to sing: "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you." But the tar man never heard. The rabbit kept on singing: "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you." But the tar man never heard a word. The rabbit came a little closer. "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you." The tar man never spoke. The rabbit came a little closer yet. "Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you; Cha ra ra, will you, will you, can you." The tar man never spoke a word. Then the rabbit came clear up to the tar man. "Look here," he said, "you get out of my way and let me down into that well." The tar man never moved. "If you don't get out of my way, I'll hit you with my fist," said the rabbit. The tar man never moved a finger. Then the rabbit raised his fist and struck that tar man as hard as he could覧and his right fist stuck tight in the tar. "Now you let go of my fist or I'll hit you with my other fist," said the rabbit. The tar man never budged. Then the rabbit struck him with his left fist, and his left fist stuck tight in the tar. "Now you let go of my fists or I'll kick you with my foot," said the rabbit. The tar man never budged one inch. Then the rabbit kicked him with his right foot, and his right foot stuck tight in the tar. "Now you let go of my foot or I'll kick you with my other foot," said the rabbit. The tar man never stirred. Then the rabbit kicked him with his left foot, and his left foot stuck tight in the far. "Now you let me go or I'll butt you with my head, said the rabbit. And he butted him with his head, and there he was; and there the other animals found him the next morning. Well, you should have heard those animals laugh. "Oh, ho, Mr. Rabbit," they said. "Now we'll see whether you steal any more of our water or not. We're going to lay you across a log and cut your head off." "Oh, please do," said the rabbit. "I've always wanted to have my head cut off. I'd rather die that way than any other way I know." "Then we won't do it," said the other animals. We are not going to kill you any way you like. We are going to shoot you." "That's belter," said the rabbit. "If I had just stopped to think, I'd have asked you to do that in the first place. Please shoot me." "No, we'll not shoot you," said the other animals; and then they had to think and think and think for a long time. "I'll tell what we'll do," said the bear. "We'll put you in a cupboard and let you eat and eat and eat until you are as fat as butter, and then we'll throw you up in the air and let you come down and burst. " "Oh, please don't," said the rabbit. "I never wanted to die that way. Just do anything else, but please don't burst me." "Then that's exactly what we'll do," said all the other animals together. So they put the rabbit in the cupboard and they fed him pie and cake and sugar, and everything that was good; and by and by he got just as fat as butter. And then they took him out on the hillside and the lion took a paw, and the bear took a paw, and the fox took a paw, and the monkey took a paw; and they swung him back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth, saying: "One for the money, two for the show, three to make ready, and four to go." And up they tossed him in the air, and he came down and lit on his feet and said: "Yip, my name's Molly Cotton-tail, Catch me if you can." And off he ran to the thicket. The early pioneers were, in the main, a God- fearing people. The family Bible was the one book always found even in the humblest home; and the Puritanic ideas of the time find expres- sion in the following hymn with which, per- chance, the devotional exercises which followed the story-telling hour closed: Sinners, perhaps this news to you. May have no weight, although 'tis true. The carnal pleasures of this earth Cast off the thought and fear of death; 'Tis awful, awful, awful. The aged sinner will not turn. His heart's so hard he can not mourn. Much harder than the flinty rock; He will not turn, 'tho Jesus knock; 'Tis awful, awful, awful. The blooming youth, all in their prime. Are counting out their length of time. They oftlimes say 'tis their intent. When they grow old they will repent; 'Tis awful, awful, awful. But, oh, the sad and awful state, Of those who stay and come too late, The foolish Virgins they began To knock, but could not enter in; 'Tis awful, awful, awful. Then, parents, take a solemn view Of your dear children, dear to you; How can you bear to hear them cry, And flaunt you with their misery; 'Tis awful, awful, awful. Good Lord, what groans, what bitter cries; What thunders rolling thro' the skies! Poor sinners, sinking in despair. While saints go shouting thro' the air; 'Tis awful, awful, awful. The songs, folklore and traditions of a people give ua a keener insight into their char- acter than anything else could do. Perhaps the spirit of chivalry, optimism, self-reliance, helpfulness, industry and piety覧the dominant traits of the people of western Virginia覧may be found in the stories told and the songs simg around the old cabin hearths. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -