“Preacher Bonnell, he used to have a nigger man a-workin’ fer him—onliest nigger ever was in these hills, I reckon. We used to have ‘em here along atter the war, but one time, come ‘lection, when they was a-sellin’ their votes fer two dollars each, the folks paid ‘em off in counterfeit money. That riled the niggers, an’ they done left. “Speakin’ of old Preacher Bonnell, Ma’am,” she went on reminiscently, “he was a odd sort of man. Onct in a while he’d sort of take spells, like. He didn’t speak to his wife fer nigh about five year, one time. He used to shoot at a mark, and drink liquor like all the other men folks. One time he bet eighty-four twists of tobacco, agin a new wagon, that he could beat Tomp Frame shootin’ at a mark. Tomp, when Preacher Bonnell wasn’t lookin’, he cut his bullet in two so he couldn’t hit nothin’. That’s how come him to kill Tomp later, and git finded fifty dollars. Hit made him so mad he couldn’t talk—he jest played deef an’ dumb fer a long time. One day he set in a game of keerds, an’ luck came his way, an’ he said right out, afore he thought, ‘High, low, Jack an’ game, by God!’ Ye see, he wasn’t always a preacher. He wasn’t called ontel he was nigh about fifty year old, I reckon.” Her auditor turned away her face, so that her own amusement might not be seen, and the old lady rambled on, chewing at her pipe stem as she rode. “Nothin’ nuvver happens in these hills, ye see, Ma’am,” said she. “I hear tell, Outside, of picturs that moves jest like they was alive. O’ course, that’s a lie. But hain’t it funny how many things folks thinks up? Now, we nuvver had no sich things as that when I was young. Fact is, I kain’t say as I ever had but jest two kinds of amuse_ment_. One was to hear the preacher tell about hell fire—he painted it up like a lake of red, with yellow around the aidge. Other was a picture a temper’nce preacher had all done in colors, showin’ how a drunkard’s stomach looked. Hit was red, too, like hell. I kin recollect even now about them things—hell fire an’ the drunkard’s stomach. We never had no other amuse_ments_ but jest them. When Old Man Bonnell got to a-_de_pictin’ hell fire, and shakin’ folks out over that, time them folks come forewerge! “Over yander is whar Old Mammy Pierce lives——“ pointing to a small cabin by the wayside. “She’s a granny womern—we call ‘em granny wimmern that he’ps folks when childrens comes, ye know. Her husband was a sort of doctor, too. He didn’t give nothin’ but _nux vomic_ very much. He says _nux vomic_ would fotch arything every time. He done killed ummage of the stomach with _nux vomic_, an’ even tonsils.