Una of the hill country: 1911Craddock, Charles Egbert
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Una of the hill country: 1911
Craddock, Charles Egbert
Mountain life -- Fiction; Short stories; Tennessee -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Produced by David Widger
UNA OF THE HILL COUNTRY
By Charles Egbert Craddock
1911
The old sawmill on Headlong Creek at the water-gap of Chilhowee Mountain
was silent and still one day, its habit of industry suggested only in
the ample expanse of sawdust spread thickly over a level open space in
the woods hard by, to serve as footing for the “bran dance” that had
been so long heralded and that was destined to end so strangely.
A barbecue had added its attractions, unrivalled in the estimation
of the rustic epicure, but even while the shoats, with the delectable
flavor imparted by underground roasting and browned to a turn, were
under discussion by the elder men and the sun-bonneted matrons on a
shady slope near the mill, where tablecloths had been spread beside a
crystal spring, the dance went ceaselessly on, as if the flying figures
were insensible of fatigue, impervious to hunger, immune from heat.
Indeed the youths and maidens of the contiguous coves and ridges had
rarely so eligible an opportunity, for it is one of the accepted tenets
of the rural religionist that dancing in itself is a deadly sin, and
all the pulpits of the countryside had joined in fulminations against
it Nothing less than a political necessity had compassed this joyous
occasion. It was said to have been devised by the “machine” to draw
together the largest possible crowd, that certain candidates might
present their views on burning questions of more than local importance,
in order to secure vigorous and concerted action at the polls in the
luke-warm rural districts when these measures should go before the
people, in the person of their advocates, at the approaching primary
elections. However, even the wisdom of a political boss is not
infallible, and despite the succulent graces of the barbecue numbers
of the ascetic and jeans-clad elder worthies, though fed to repletion,
collogued unhappily together among the ox-teams and canvas-hooded wagons
on the slope, commenting sourly on the frivolity of the dance. These
might be relied on to cast no ballots in the interest of its promoters,
with whose views they were to be favored between the close of the feast
and the final dance before sunset.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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