I called, and a man came out with a torch of pine-knots in his hand. He was both dirty and ragged. I asked him where the man lived that kept lodgers. “Oh,” said he, “I am the man that keeps tavern here.” My prospects were bad, but I could get no further. I asked him to put up my tired horse and feed him. He had no stable but a rail-pen, no feed but some sheaves of green wheat. He took me to another cabin about fifty yards distant, that was as dark as a dungeon, except so far as his torch gave us light. Although it was warm, I requested him to make me a fire, which he did with reluctance. After some time I was invited to the first cabin to supper. The man and his wife and children, as well as the supper, were all dirty in the extreme. I attempted to eat, but in vain. As soon as the man finished his meal, we returned to the other cabin, where I conversed with him. He was a total stranger to the simplest truths of the Bible. I asked him if he knew any thing of the celebrated Lucas family of that county. “Oh yes,” said he, “they live all round here. Did you not meet a man as you came along to-night about the top of the hill over the creek?” I said yes. “Well, that was one of them, and I wonder they let you pass so late in the evening. That one, and the one that lived in the house you last passed were the two implicated in killing the man for which one of their uncles was hung at Giles court-house, and if I had given in my testimony, they would have been hung too; and I am afraid they will kill me, because I know all about it.” By this time I was considerably alarmed. The conclusion I came to was that they were all linked together, and that I was in the slaughter-house. I then inquired all about old Randal Lucas, who was the father of two that had been hung, and some others that were in prison, and was the grandfather of the two he had just been telling me about. He gave me a full history of the old man, much of which cannot be told. “But,” said he, “such a man you never saw. He is ninety years old. When he puts on a suit of clothes, he never takes it off till it is worn out. In the winter he lies in the ashes, and in the summer he lies down in the mire like a hog.” This is confirmed in Howe’s History of Virginia, which relates how he sat under the gallows eating gingerbread while his sons were hung. I refer the reader to that history for an account of this wonderful man and his family. The manner in which he told the whole story was any thing but pleasant to me. He began to get sleepy, and told me he would hold the pine-light while I got into bed up on the _loft_, as he called it. The only way to get up was by a ladder made of a pole split in two, with rounds put into it. I climbed up, and he followed me with the torch. As soon as I got to the bed over the loose boards that covered the floor, and found an old split-bottom chair, which I expected to use in self-defence before morning, I told him to withdraw.