She now pointed to Katie Ford, and that young miss started right off, saying:

"As I was going to St. Ives," but everyone protested, so Katie had to try another that everyone didn't know.

As I was going over London bridge I heard a lad give a call; His tongue was flesh, his mouth was horn, And such a lad was never born.

"A rooster!" shouted cross-eyed Steve Morley, who vowed Katie looked straight at him. And in the bat of an eye he said:

As I went over London bridge I met my sister Ann; I pulled off her head and sucked her blood And let her body stand.

"A bottle of wine," two in the corner spoke at once, which was against the rules, but both thought Steve was looking in their direction.

"Tell another," Aunt Lindie settled the matter.

"As I went over London bridge I met a man," said Steve. "If I was to tell his name I'd be to blame. I have told his name five times over. Who was it?"

No one spoke up for they all knew the answers to Steve's simple, threadbare riddles. "The answer is I," he said, running a hand over his bristling pompadour.

And lest he assert his rights by starting on another, Aunt Lindie, which was her right, gave a jingle and the answer to it too.

As I walked out in my garden of lilies There I saw endible, crindible, cronable kernt Ofttimes pestered my eatable, peatable, partable present, And I called for my man William, the second of quillan, To bring me a quill of anatilus feather That I might conquer the endible, crindible, cronable kernt.

She looked about the puzzled faces. "I'll not plague your minds to find the answer. I'll give it to you. As the woman walked out in her garden she saw a rabbit eating her cabbage and she called for her second husband to bring her a shotgun that she might kill the rabbit."

The old teller of riddles pointed out that there was good in their telling. "People have been known to be scared out of doing meanness just by a riddle. Now what would you think this one would be?

Riddle to my riddle to my right, You can't guess where I laid last Friday night; The wind did blow, my heart did ache To see what a hole that fox did make.

Whoever knows can answer." She looked at Josie Binner. "You have the best remembrance of anyone I know. Don't tell me you can't give the answer."

"I never heard it before," Josie had to admit, twisting her kerchief and looking down at the floor.

"Speak out!" urged Aunt Lindie. But no one did so she riddled the riddle. "A wicked man once planned to kill his sweetheart. He went first to dig her grave and then meant to throw her into it. She got an inkling of his intent, watched from the branches of a tree, then accused him with that riddle. He skipped the country and so that riddle saved a young girl's life. And while we're on trees, here's another:

Horn eat a horn in a white oak tree.

Guess this riddle and you may hang me.

For the fun of it they all pretended not to know the answer so she gave it. "You're just pranking," she admonished playfully, "but nohow--a man named Horn eat a calf's horn as he sat up in a white oak tree. But I'll give you one now to take along with you. It's a Bible riddle, now listen well:

God made Adam out of dust, But thought it best to make me first; So I was made before the man, To answer God's most holy plan.

My body he did make complete, But without legs or hands or feet; My ways and actions did control, And I was made without a soul.

A living being I became; 'Twas Adam that gave me my name; Then from his presence I withdrew; No more of Adam ever knew.

I did my Maker's laws obey; From them I never went astray; Thousands of miles I run, I fear, But seldom on the earth appear.

But God in me did something see, And put a living soul in me.

A soul of me my God did claim, And took from me that soul again.

But when from me the soul was fled, I was the same as when first made.

And without hands, or feet, or soul, I travel now from pole to pole.

I labor hard, both day and night, To fallen man I give great light; Thousands of people, both young and old, Will by my death great light behold.

No fear of death doth trouble me, For happiness I cannot see; To Heaven I shall never go, Nor to the grave, or hell below.

And now, my friends, these lines you read, And scan the Scriptures with all speed; And if my name you don't find there, I'll think it strange, I must declare."

That was the way Aunt Lindie and other older mountain women had of sending young folk to read the Word.

There was rarely a gathering for telling riddles and trying simple fortunes, especially during the winter, that did not end with a taffy pull. That too afforded the means for courting couples to pair off and pursue their romance.

The iron pot filled with sorghum was swung over the hearth fire to bubble and boil. In due time the mother of the household dropped some of it with a spoon into a dipper of cold water. If it hardened just right she knew the sorghum had boiled long enough. Then it was poured into buttered plates to cool. Often to add an extra flavor the taffy was sprinkled with walnut kernels. The task of picking out the kernels with Granny's knitting needles usually fell to the younger folks. There on the hearth was a round hole worn into the stone where countless walnuts had been cracked year after year.

When the taffy had cooled so that it could be lifted up in the hands the fun of pulling it began. The girls buttered or greased their hands so that it would not stick, and the boys, of their choice, did likewise.

Pulling taffy to see who could get theirs the whitest was an occasion for greatest merriment. "Mine's the whitest," you'd hear a young, tittering miss call out. Then followed comparisons, friendly argument.

And when at last the taffy was pulled into white ropes it was again coiled on buttered plates in fancy designs of hearts and links and left to harden until it could be broken into pieces with quick tap of knife or spoon.

Once more the courting couples paired off together and helped themselves politely when the plate was passed.

Riddles and fortunes, taffy pulling and harmless kissing games, like Clap In and Clap Out, Post Office, and I Lost My Kerchief Yesterday, made for the young folk of the mountains a most happy and (to them of yesterday) a most hilarious occasion.

And when a neighbor like Aunt Binie Warwick gave out the word there'd be a frolic and dance at her house, nothing but sickness or death could keep the young people away. Such an occasion started off with a play-game song in order to get everyone in a gay mood. The hostess herself led off in the singing:

Come gather east, come gather west, Come round with Yankee thunder; Break down the power of Mexico And tread the tyrants under.

Everyone knew how to play it. The boys stood on one side of the room, the girls on the other, and when the old woman piped out the very first notes the boys started for the girls, each with an eye on the one of his choice. Sometimes two or more of the young fellows were of the same mind, which added to the fun and friendly rivalry. The one who first caught the right hand of the girl had her for his partner in the dance that would follow. Immediately each couple stepped aside and waited until the others had found a partner. If there was a question about it, the oldest woman present, who by her years was the recognized matchmaker of the community, decided the point.

"Who'll do the calling?" asked the hostess, Aunt Binie.

Everyone knew there was not a better caller anywhere than Uncle Mose, who was just as apt at fiddling. So Uncle Mose proudly took his place in the corner, chair tilted back against the wall. Fiddle to chin, he called out: "Choose your partners!"

With a quick eye he singled out one couple. "Lizzie, you've got a bound to stand to the right of the gent!"

Quickly Lizzie, tittering and blushing, stepped to the other side of Dave.

"And you, Prudie," Uncle Mose waved a commanding hand, "get on the other side of John. You fellows from Fryin' Pan best learn the proper ways here and now."

A wave of laughter swept over the gathering and Uncle Mose, sweeping the bow across the strings, called: "Salute your partner!"

There was bowing and shuffling of feet and, as the tempo of the fiddle increased, heels clicked against the bare floor and the caller's voice rang out above music and laughter:

Salute your corner lady, Salute your partners, all: Swing your corner lady And promenade the hall.

They danced to the fiddle music of O Suzanna and Life on the Ocean Wave, and Uncle Mose had calls to suit any tune:

Swing old Adam Swing Miss Eve, Then swing your partner As you leave.