so many of her valiant sons
hastened to volunteer. Though mountain people have suffered the stigma
of family feuds, they have lived to see old rancors forgotten. Hatfields
and McCoys, Martins and Tollivers shoulder their muskets and march
side-by-side when they have to defend their native land.

The Big Sandy country is still filled with patriots. In Floyd County,
the father of eleven sons is not worried about the draft, according to
the _Big Sandy News_, November 15, 1940: "Frank Stamper, Prestonsburg
Spanish-American War veteran, isn't worried about the draft 'catching'
any of his eleven boys, six of whom are of draft age. Five of the bra'
laddies already are infantrymen in the U. S. Army--enlisted men. The
sixth, Harry, from whom the family has not heard in nine years, may also
be in the army now, and not subject to conscription later. Two of his
sons--Everett of Jackhorn, Kentucky, and Avery of Ronda, West Virginia,
were in the World War as volunteers, and when you take in consideration
that Mr. Stamper himself was a volunteer in the Spanish-American War, it
makes the adult population of the family about unanimous in the matter
of patriotism. The five sons in the army now are: Frank, Jr., Paul,
Damon, John and Charles. Mr. Stamper is the father of twenty-seven
children, seventeen of whom are living."

WHEN SINGING COMES IN, FIGHTING GOES OUT

Mountain folk, especially those who have had the misfortune of being
mixed in troubles (feuds to the outside world) believe earnestly that
"when singing comes in, fighting goes out." "Look at the Hatfields and
McCoys," they say. "They make music together now at the home of one side
and now at the home of them on t'other side. They sit side-by-side on
the bench at the Singing Gathering down on the Mayo Trail come the
second Sunday in June every year. Off yonder nigh the mouth of Big
Sandy, across the mountains which once were stained with the blood of
both families. What's more, Little Melissy Hatfield and Little Bud McCoy
even sing together a ballad that tells of the love of Rosanna McCoy for
Devil Anse's son Jonse. And their elders sing hymn tunes long cherished
in the mountain church, whilst tens of thousands gathered on the hills
all around about listen with silent rejoicing over the peace that has
come to the once sorry enemies."

To be sure, there is the singing of folk songs handed down by word of
mouth from generation to generation. When the mountain