of their favorite beverage, and were ready for frolic or fight. Just
then Alan Barker, a scion of the noted family, belonging to that branch
living in Pigeon Creek, began expatiating on the charms, graces and
virtues of a fair lassie bearing the euphonious and patriotic name of
America Virginia Stubbins, and closed his eulogy by saying she was "de
sweetest, prettiest, best and likeliest gal in all Kentuck," and he
could "whip any man in de crowd who dared to deny it." Young "Buck"
Wiles took up the dare, partly because he despised the whole Barker
crew, partly because he had a tender feeling toward the same lass, and
was therefore jealous of Alan Barker, but mostly because whisky had
fired his brain. So he discounted Alan Barker's fervid descriptions,
and averred that the same America Virginia Stubbins possessed a homely
face and little sense.

This was the spark which exploded the magazine. Alan Barker, stung to
anger and madness, sprang upon "Buck" Wiles, and the two men clenched
in a desperate struggle. However, it was not the way of the times to
confine the settling of disputes to the "manly art" of bare fists.
There was a quicker method, and sooner than we can write it the men
having become separated in their wrestling, Alan Barker whipped out a
pistol and shot Wiles down. Then ensued an encounter horrible to
relate. The members of each family entered at once into the fight. Many
shots were exchanged; and after a few minutes, when the fighting was
over, either from lack of ammunition, or because, Indian fashion, those
who were not wounded had hidden behind the great trees to fight from
under cover, the sad results were apparent. Three of the Barker tribe
and two of the Wiles lay dead upon the ground, while five of the latter
and four of the former were lying in different positions, some
slightly, others desperately, wounded.

Thus the old feud was renewed, the old score opened, and the waters of
malice, revenge and hate which had been accumulating for months broke
forth afresh with devastating effect. Soon the news was heard in all
the surrounding hills and valleys. It stirred the dull and untrained
minds in many a mountain cabin; it was discussed between drinks in
rough taverns. Somehow the story sounded through the green Kentucky
woods until its echoes appeared in the daily papers of Cincinnati,
Philadelphia and New York.

Jasper Very declared he would make this battle between families the
subject of his sermo