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The appearance in The Atlantic Monthly, May, 1878, of a story of the great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, signed Charles Egbert Craddock,' marks a step in the history of the American short story. The date may be taken as the beginning of the dialect era in American fiction, the era of exploiting strange localities and uncouth personalities. The author of the Tennessee mountain stories was Miss Mary N. Murfree, a native of Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and a summer visitor for many years among the mountains of her native state. The dis covery that the mysterious Charles Egbert Craddock was a woman was one of the literary sensations of the eighties and it did much to bring her work to the attention of readers. Like Thomas Hardy, she has made the scenic background of her stories almost a leading character in the plot. Preeminently is she a writer of fiction of locality, the background always dominates. She has an eye for the picturesque, for the unusual in character and scene, and as a result her characters are always as quaint and unfamiliar as are those of Dickens. Her style is peculiarly her own, florid often, and over-adjectived, but often im pressive and in perfect keeping with the surroundings she describes. She is at her best when describing lonely valleys and remote cabins with the pitiful desolation of human lives stranded in lonesome coves and savage mountain recesses.

OVER ON THE T'OTHER
MOUNTING1

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Stretching out laterally from a long oblique line of the Southern Alleghanies are two parallel ranges, following the same course through several leagues, and separated by a narrow strip of valley hardly half a mile in width. As they fare along arm in arm, so to speak, sundry differ- 1 ences between the close companions are distinctly apparent. One is much the higher, and leads the way; it strikes out all the bold curves and angles of the course, meekly attended by the lesser ridge; its shadowy coves and sharp ravines are repeated in miniature as its comrade falls into the line of march; it seems to have its companion in charge, and to conduct it away from the majestic 20 procession of mountains that traverses the State.

muffles the voice of the singing pines; and all the crags are hung with gigantic glit tering icicles, and the woods are gloomy and bleak. When the sun shines bright on Old Rocky-Top, clouds often hover about the loftier mountain, and storms brew in that higher atmosphere; the allpervading winter winds surge wildly among the groaning forests, and wrench. the limbs from the trees, and dash huge fragments of cliffs down deep gorges, and spend their fury before they reach the sheltered lower spur. When the kindly shades of evening slip softly down on 5 drowsy Rocky-Top, and the work is laid by in the rough little houses, and the simple home-folks draw around the hearth, day still lingers in a weird, paralytic life among the tree-tops of the T'other Mounting; and the only remnant of the world visible is that stark black line of its summit, stiff and hard against the faint green and saffron tints of the sky. birds are well awake on Old Rocky-Top, and while the shadows are still thick, the T'other Mounting has been called up to a new day. Lonely dawns these: the pale gleam strikes along the October woods, bringing first into uncertain twilight the

Before the

But, despite its more imposing appearance, all the tangible advantages are possessed by its humble neighbor. When Old 25 Rocky-Top, as the lower range is called, is fresh and green with the tender verdure of spring, the snow still lies on the summit of the T'other Mounting, and drifts deep into treacherous rifts and chasms, and 30 dead yellow and red of the foliage, pres

1 From In the Tennessee Mountains, copyright by Houghton Mifflin & Co.

ently heightened into royal gold and crimson by the first ray of sunshine; it rouses

he timid wild-fowl; it drives home the plundering fox; it meets, perhaps, some lumbering bear or skulking mountain wolf; it flecks with light and shade the deer, all gray and antlered; it falls upon no human habitation, for the few settlers of the region have a persistent predilection for Old Rocky-Top. Somehow, the T'other Mounting is vaguely in ill repute among its neighbors, it has a bad name.

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them high stone banks. But he war a good swimmer, an' he war drowned. He war witched with the place, ez sure ez ye air born.'

A long silence ensued. Then Nathan White raised his pondering eyes with a look of slow curiosity. What did Tony Britt say he war a-doin' of, when ye kem on him suddint in the woods on the T'other 10 Mounting?' he asked, addressing his son, a stalwart youth, who was sitting upon the step, his hat on the back of his head, and his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

trousers.

'He said he war a-huntin', but he hed n't ned no sort 'n luck. It 'pears ter me ez all the game thar is witched somehow, an' ye can't git no good shot at nuthin'. Tony tole me to-day that he got up three deer, 20 an' hed toler'ble aim; an' he missed two, an' the t'other jes' trotted off with a rifleball in his flank, ez unconsarned ez ef he hed hit him with an acorn.'

It's the onluckiest place ennywhar nigh about,' said Nathan White, as he sat one afternoon upon the porch of his log-cabin, on the summit of Old Rocky-Top, and gazed up at the heights of the T'other 15 Mounting across the narrow valley. 'I hev hearn tell all my days ez how, ef ye go up thar on the T'other Mounting, suthin' will happen ter ye afore ye kin git away. An' I knows myself ez how 't war ten year ago an' better - I went up thar, one Jan'ry day, a-lookin' fur my cow, ez hed strayed off through not hevin' enny calf ter our house: an' I fund the cow, but jes' tuk an' slipped on a icy rock, an' 25 bruk my ankle-bone. 'T war sech a job a-gittin' off 'n that thar T'other Mounting an' back over hyar, it hev l'arned me ter stay away from thar.'

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Thar war a man,' piped out a shrill, 30 quavering voice from within the door,the voice of Nathan White's father, the oldest inhabitant of Rocky-Top,- thar war a man hyar, nigh on ter fifty year ago,

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he war mightily gin ter thievin' horses; 35 an' one time, while he war a-runnin' away with Pete Dilks's dapple-gray mare,— they called her Luce, five year old she war Pete, he war a-ridin' a-hint him on his old sorrel-mare, her name 't war Jane, an' 40 the Jeemes boys, they war a-ridin' arter the horse-thief too. Thar, now! I clar forgits what horses them Jeemes boys war. a-ridin' of.' He paused for an instant in anxious reflection. 'Waal, sir! it do beat 45 all that I can't remember them Jeemes boys' horses! Anyways, they got ter that thar tricky ford through Wild-Duck River, thar on the side o' the T'other Mounting, an' the horse-thief war ahead, an' he hed 50 ter take it fust. An' that thar river,— it rises yander in them pines, nigh about,' pointing with a shaking fore-finger, that thar river jes' spun him out 'n the saddle like a top, an' he war n't seen no 55 more till he hed floated nigh ter Colbury, ez dead ez a door-nail, nor Pete's dapplegray mare nuther; she bruk her knees agin

an'

'I hev always hearn ez everything that belongs on that thar T'other Mounting air witched, an'iye brings away so much ez a leaf, or a stone, or a stick, ye fotches a curse with it,' chimed in the old man, ''kase thar hev been sech a many folks killed on the T'other Mounting.'

'I tole Tony Britt that thar word,' said the young fellow, an' 'lowed ter him ez how he hed tuk a mighty bad spot ter go a-huntin','

'What did he say?' demanded Nathan White.

'He say he never knowed ez thar war murders commit on T'other Mounting, an' ef thar war he 'spects 't war nuthin' but Injuns, long time ago. But he 'lowed the place war powerful onlucky, an' he believed the mounting war witched.'

Ef Tony Britt's arter enny harm,' said the octogenarian, 'he 'll never come off 'n that thar T'other Mounting. It's a mighty place fur bad folks ter make thar eend. Thar's that thar horse thief I war a-tellin' 'bout, an' that dapple-gray mare, - her name 't war Luce. An' folks ez is a-runnin' from the sheriff jes' takes ter the T'other Mounting ez nateral ez ef it war home; en' ef they don't git cotched, they is never hearn on no more.' He paused impressively. The rocks falls on 'em, an' kills 'em; an' I'll tell ye jes' how

I knows,' he resumed, oracularly. ''T war sixty year ago, nigh about, an' me an' them leemes boys war a-burnin' of lime

tergether over on the T'other Mounting.
We hed a lime-kiln over thar, jes' under
Piney Notch, an' never hed no luck, but
jes' stuck ter it like fools, till Hiram
Jeemes got one of his eyes put out. So we
quit burnin' of lime on the T'other Mount-
ing, 'count of the place bein' witched, an'
kem over hyar ter Old Rocky-Top, an'
got along toler'ble well, cornsiderin'.
But one day, whilst we war a-workin' on 10
the T'other Mounting, what d'ye think I
fund in the rock? The print of a bare
foot in the solid stone, ez plain an' ez
nateral ez ef the track hed been lef' in the
clay yestiddy. Waal, I knowed it war the 15
track o' Jeremiah Stubbs, what shot his
step-brother, an' gin the sheriff the slip,
an' war las' seen on the T'other Mounting,
'kase his old shoe jes' fit the track, fur
we tried it. An' a good while arterward I 20
fund on that same T'other Mounting -
in the solid stone, mind ye a fish, what
he had done br'iled fur supper, jes' turned
ter a stone.'

'So thar's the Bible made true,' said an 25 elderly woman, who had come to the door to hear this reminiscence, and stood mechanically stirring a hoe-cake batter in a shallow wooden bowl. 'Ax fur a fish, an' ye'll git a stone.'

The secret history of the hills among which they lived was indeed as a sealed book to these simple mountaineers.

The las' time I war ter Colbury,' said Nathan White, 'I hearn the sheriff 35 a-talkin' 'bout how them evil-doers an' sech runs fur the T'other Mounting fust thing; though he 'lowed ez it war powerful foxy in 'em ter try ter hide thar, 'kase he said, ef they wunst reaches it, he 40 mought ez well look fur a needle in a haystack. He 'lowed ef he hed a posse a thousand men strong he could n't git 'em out.'

when he war overseer of the road he jes war constant in lettin' his friends, an' folks ginerally, off 'thout hevin' 'em fined, when they did n't come an' work on the 5 road, though that air the way ez the overseers hev always done, without nobody a-tellin' on 'em an' sech. But them ez war n't Tony Britt's friends seen a mighty differ. He war dead sure ter fine Caleb Hoxie seventy-five cents, 'cordin' ter the law, fur every day that he war summonsed ter work an' never come; 'kase Tony an' Caleb hed some sort 'n grudge agin one another 'count of a spavined horse what Caleb sold ter Tony, makin' him out to be a sound critter, though Caleb swears he never knowed the horse war spavined when he sold him ter Tony, no more 'n nuthin'. Caleb war mightily worked up 'bout this hyar finin' business, an' him an' Tony hed a tussle 'bout it every time they kem tergether. But Ca

leb war always sure ter git the worst of it, 'kase Tony, though he air toler❜ble spindling sort o' build, he air somehow or other sorter stringy an' tough, an' makes a right smart show in a reg'lar knock-down an' drag-out fight. So Caleb he war beat every time, an' fined too. An' 30 he tried wunst ter shoot Tony Britt, but he missed his aim. An' when he war a-layin' off how ter fix Tony, fur treatin' him that way, he war a-stoppin', one day. at Jacob Green's black-smith's shop, yan der, a mile down the valley, an' he wai a-talkin' 'bout it ter a passel o' folks thar An' Lawyer Rood from Colbury war thar an' Jacob war a-shoein' of his mare; an he hearn the tale, an' axed Caleb why n't he report Tony ter the court, an' git him fined fur neglect of his duty, bein' overseer of the road. An' Caleb never knowed before that it war the law that everybody what war summonsed an' didn't come must be fined, or the overseer must be fined hisself; but he knowed that Tony hed been a-lettin' of his friends off, an' folks ginerally, an' he jes' 'greed fur Lawyer Rood ter stir up trouble fur Tony. An he done it. An' the court fined Tony twenty dollars fur them ways o' his'n. An' it kept him so busy a-scufflin' ter raise the twenty dollars that he never hed a chance ter give Caleb Hoxie more 'n on or two beatin's the whole time he war a-scrapin' up the money.'

'He can't find 'em, 'kase the rocks falls 45 on 'em, or swallers 'em in,' said the old man. Ef Tony Britt is up ter mischief he'll never come back no more. He'll git into worser trouble than ever he sce a fore.'

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'He hev done seen a powerful lot of trouble, fust one way an' another, 'thout foolin' round the T'other Mounting,' said Nathan White. They tells me ez he got hisself indicted, I believes they calls it, 55 or suthin', down yander ter the court at Colbury, that war year afore las',- an' he hed ter pay twenty dollars fine; 'kase

This story was by no means unknown to the little circle, nor did its narrator

see her a-lyin' stiff an' cold on the bed, an' the shadow of the T'other Mounting drapping in at the open door, an' a-creepin' an' a-creepin' over her face. An' I war plumb 5 glad when they got that woman under ground, whar, ef the sunshine can't git ter her, neither kin the shadow. Ef ever thar war a murdered woman, she war one. Arter all that hed come an' gone with Caleb Hoxie, fur Tony Britt ter go arter him, 'kase he war a yerb-doctor, ter git him ter physic his wife, who war nigh about dead with the lung fever, an' gin up by old Dr. Marsh!— it looks ter me like he war plumb crazy, though him an' Caleb hed sorter made friends 'bout the spavined horse an' sech afore then. Jes' ez soon ez she drunk the stuff that Caleb fixed fur her she laid her head back an' shet her eyes, an' never opened 'em no more in this worl'. She war a murdered woman, an' Caleb Hoxie done it through the yerbs he fixed fur her.'

labor under the delusion that he was telling a new thing. It was merely a verbal act of recollection, and an attentive silence reigned as he related the familiar facts. To people who live in lonely regions this habit of retrospection (especially noticeable in them) and an enduring interest in the past may be something of a compensation for the scarfty happenings of the present. When the recital was concluded, the 10 hush for a time was unbroken, save by the rush of the winds, bringing upon their breath the fragrant woodland odors of balsams and pungent herbs, and a fresh and exhilarating suggestion of sweeping 15 over a volume of falling water. They stirred the fringed shadow of a great pine that stood, like a sentinel, before Nathan White's door and threw its colorless simulacrum, a boastful lie twice its size, far 20 down the sunset road. Now and then the faint clangor of a cow-bell came from out the tangled woods about the little hut, and the low of homeward-bound cattle sounded upon the air, mellowed and softened by the 25 distance. The haze that rested above the long, narrow valley was hardly visible, save in the illusive beauty with which it invested the scene,- the tender azure of the far-away ranges; the exquisite tones 30 of the gray and purple shadows that hovered about the darkening coves and along the deep lines marking the gorges; the burnished brilliance of the sunlight, which, despite its splendor, seemed lonely enough, 55 lying motionless upon the lonely landscape and on the still figures clustered about the porch. Their eyes were turned toward the opposite steeps, gorgeous with scarlet oak and sumac, all in autumnal ar- 40 ray, and their thoughts were busy with the hunter on the T'other Mounting and vague speculations concerning his evil intent.

It 'pears ter me powerful strange ez Tony goes a-foolin' round that thar 45 T'other Mounting, cornsiderin' what happened yander in its shadow,' said the woman, coming again to the door, and leaning idly against the frame; the bread was baking over the coals. That thar 50 wife o' his'n, afore she died, war always frettin' 'kase way down thar on the backbone, whar her house war, the shadow o' the T'other Mounting laid on it fur an hour an' better every day of the worl'. 55 She 'lowed ez it always put her in mind o' the shadow o' death. An' I thought 'bout that thar sayin' a' hern, the day when I

A subtile amethystine mist had gradually overlaid the slopes of the T'other Mounting, mellowing the brilliant tints of the variegated foliage to a delicious hazy sheen of mosaics; but about the base the air seemed dun-colored, though transparent; seen through it, even the red of the crowded trees was but a somber sort of magnificence, and the great masses of gray rocks, jutting out among them here and there, wore a darkly frowning aspect. Along the summit there was a blaze of scarlet and gold in the full glory of the sunshine; the topmost cliffs caught its rays, and gave them back in unexpected gleams of green or grayish-yellow, as of mosses, or vines, or huckleberry bushes, nourished in the heart of the deep fissures.

'Waal,' said Nathan White, 'I never did believe ez Caleb gin her ennythink ter hurt, though I knows thar is them ez does. Caleb is the bes' yerb-doctor I ever see. The rheumatiz would nigh on ter hev killed me, ef it war n't fur him, that spell I hed las' winter. An' Dr. Marsh, what they hed up afore the gran' jury, swore that the yerbs what Caleb gin her war nuthin' ter hurt; he said, though, they could n't holp nor hender. An' but fur Dr. Marsh they would hev jailed Caleb ter stand his trial, like Tony wanted 'em ter do. But Dr. Marsh said she died with the consumption, jes' the same, an' Caleb's yerbs war wholesome, though they war n't no 'count at all.'

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