Oh, see the horror and destruction, When death came flying through the air. The people vainly sought a refuge; Oh, friends, take warning and beware. They hear the sound of alien footsteps, The soldiers marching side by side Among the ruins of that great city, A mighty nation's boast and pride. Oh, let us then be wise and careful, And strive to keep our country free; For war is cruel to the helpless, The weak must pay the penalty. God help the rulers of the nations! What is in store, no tongue can tell; But keep in mind the simple story-- The Line was broke and Paris fell. --Coby Preston 9. RECLAIMING THE WILDERNESS VANISHING FEUDIST There are people all over the United States to whom the mere mention of the word mountaineer evokes a fantastic picture--a whiskey-soaked ruffian with bloodshot eyes and tobacco-stained beard, wide-brimmed felt cocked over a half-cynical eye, finger on the trigger of a long-barreled squirrel rifle. He is guarding his moonshine still. Or he may be lying in wait behind bush or tree to waylay his deadly enemy of the other side in a long-fought blood-feud. Though there may be a semblance of truth in both, such pictures should be taken with a grain of salt. Illicit whiskey has been made in our southern mountains, as well as in towns and cities throughout the country. There were blood-feuds in bygone days but they have been so overplayed that scarcely a vestige of the real story remains recognizable. Few of the old leaders are left to tell the facts. I have known well and claim as my loyal friends members of families who have been engaged in the making of illicit whiskey. I have known quite well many members of families on both sides in two of the most famous feuds in the southern mountains. These people were and are today my good friends and neighbors.