He had up to the end of his life gone barefooted in the summertime, except when he came to town; had never bought a newspaper or book; had never ridden in an automobile or upon an electric car, used a telephone, or, as far as is known, sent a telegraph message. He was, however, a shrewd and alert observer, and kept well informed on current events through association with others and perusal of newspapers which happened to come into his hands without cost, and was not averse to utilizing modern farming implements in his agricultural operations. However, his life business was that of agricultural financier rather than farmer, he personally working little of his vast domain of blue-grass land. The farming upon his property was done almost entirely by tenants, though he himself had daily done hard manual labor throughout his long life. Only last fall, when eighty-nine years old, he was cutting briers upon his place just before he became confined with the illness which caused his death. A peculiarity was that he would never raise tobacco, not even on the shares with his tenants, as is the almost universal custom in the burley belt. If a man wanted to raise tobacco upon his land, Mr. Clemmons would rent him the ground at forty dollars an acre. “I don’t know anything about raising tobacco,” he would say, “but if you want to raise it upon my land you can go on and do so, and give me your note at forty dollars an acre per annum, which people say tobacco land is worth, and pay it when you sell the crop.” He never wore a watch in his life, although he at one time had two clocks in the house, one which was an ancient brass timepiece, probably an heirloom, but both of these were stolen many years ago and were never replaced. The sun was his timekeeper, he going to work by its rising and considering it time to quit when it had set. He never used a vehicle for travel, but came to town on horseback, he having made his last visit here several weeks ago by that method. Only one time in all his ninety years, as far as there is any record, did Mr. Clemmons “blow himself” in an extravagant outlay of money. This was when he got married, some sixty years ago. On that occasion he not only bought himself a nice horse and new buggy, but paid fifty dollars for a set of harness, as he himself was wont to relate. But when the wedding festivities were over, the buggy was placed in the barn, never to come out again. Its leather decayed, and fell apart, its wheels rusted in idleness, and the whole vehicle, with the lapse of time, fell to pieces. Also Mr. Clemmons, in honor of one great event of his life, purchased extravagantly of wedding garments. Complete as any dandy could have it, a broadcloth suit, a pair of fine, soft-leather boots, and even a plug hat, which was in the fashion of that day, were bought to adorn the bridegroom, but they were never worn but once.