. Highways and byways of the South. ouses still remained. I began to wearyafter a time of trudging that hard, unswerving road,and to wish some person driving in the direction Ihad taken would offer me a ride ; but every one passedon unheeding till a colored man came jogging along ina market wagon drawn by a mule. He pulled upwith a friendly invitation to occupy the seat with him,and I gladly accepted. He was on his way to a farm N lyS Highways and Byways of the South he rented a mile or two beyond, and when he turnedin at the farm-house gate, I went on alone again. Presently I came to a cluste
. Highways and byways of the South. ouses still remained. I began to wearyafter a time of trudging that hard, unswerving road,and to wish some person driving in the direction Ihad taken would offer me a ride ; but every one passedon unheeding till a colored man came jogging along ina market wagon drawn by a mule. He pulled upwith a friendly invitation to occupy the seat with him,and I gladly accepted. He was on his way to a farm N lyS Highways and Byways of the South he rented a mile or two beyond, and when he turnedin at the farm-house gate, I went on alone again. Presently I came to a cluster of three little well-travelled road joined the pike here, andhad the effect of making the spot a centre of no village gathered about the stores and theylooked rather forlorn and unnecessary. The proprie-tors apparently had unlimited leisure, and I stoppedand had a chat with one of them. When I preparedto resume my tramping, he suggested that I ought tosee an old church on a near hill. It had been built. An Old Toll-gate House on the Pike over a century. 1 been goin to that chuch mosteighty years, said the storekeeper, and my motherwas among the first to be baptized in it. The preacher The Blue-grass Country 179 that baptized her was a man by the name of lived to be a very old man and I remember talkinto him not long befo he died, an he said, Ive baptizedover seventeen hundred persons, and your mother wasthe best woman I ever baptized. That was a bigword for a preacher, and he told it to me settin in hisown porch. I went up to look at the church. It was of stone,a plain little building of evident age with a diminutiveyard about it protected by palings. In a large adjoin-ing field was the cemetery covering perhaps an scattered headstones were leaning and broken —and no wonder, for they were not in any way shut offfrom the rest of the field, and the grazing horses andcows wandered among the graves at will. The deadof the community
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Keywords: ., bookauthorjohnsonc, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1904
