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Ivory Flakes p?\T?.32c At 98, Macon Native Links Ages Of Homespun, Nylon (EDITOR'S NOTE: Born on lotli, Mr. Tallent later ? moved with his parents to Burninc town. In later years, he and his wife lived on Cartoocechaye.) JOHN F ARRIS In AsheviUe Citizen-Times The years of nearly a century knock with frosty fingers upon his heart. He Is the last link to a pioneer past. And on his birthday, he could look back down the years with a memory bright as a red thread on a loom and weave a tapestry of mountain life that covers an era from homespun to nylon. He was born in the Macon j County hills the year Dan Emmett j wrote "Dixie" and John Brown tried to play Ood. That was in 1859. the year when folks were hearing about a man named Lincoln who was rumored to have been sired by a mountain i man over in the Smokies. It was Valentine's Day of '50 and his folks wrote his name into the family Bible. Wrote the name: William Riley Tallent. He grew up in homespun In a time and place when this was a land of do it yourself or do with out. He was two years old when the j Civil War started down in Chariest ton. And now almost a hundred years later, he measures his fabulous memory on that conflict that divided a nation. Remembers Men In Gray For he remembers, almost like it was yesterday, the men .in tat tered gray returning from Chick amauga and Appomattox. His memory is a wonderful thing, sort of unbelievable. And the years have neither dimmed it nor confused it. His brain is a cunning picture maker and his faculty for detail of things long vanished is a won der to behold. In his time, he has seen many faces and bodies, young and then old, so much life, so many pat terns of death and birth. ' He has known time like the cock of red dawn and time like a tired clock slowing. He has seen the horse and bug gy disappear. He has known the Golden Age, the Naughty 'Eighties and the Gay Nineties. He has lived through the eras of boom and bust, of want and of plenty. He has known hoopskirts wide as the front veranda.' He remembers sun-bonneted ladies, and blsftk-shawled men. Paid Off In Dimes He remembers cocked-pistol men, white-sheeted men. hoofbeats and terror in the night, and a man dangling from the end of a rope on a bridge at Franklin. He was with Col. C. J. Harris when the first kaolin mine was opened in Western North Carolina. He was paymaster ,at the Hog Rock mines near Webster and paid off the men in shiny new dimes. He saw the first automobile come to the mountains. He talked to Ford and Edison and Firestone when they came this way in a White Steamer and helped them free their car when it got stuck in the mud below Webster. He remembers when the whip ping post and the branding iron were still the instruments for pun ishment of law-breakers. He remembers when folks took down their rifles and shot the railroad train when it first came. And he remembers the man who sat by with his rifle and said when the first telephone and tele graph wires were stretched through the section, that it was all right to send messages over them, but he aimed to kill the first man that come traveling over his property on the thin strands. In his time he lived by the al manac and planted his crops by the sign of the moon. He learned to tell time by the sun's shadow falling through the door on the puncheon floor. He remembers when mountain folks had to do their trading in Walhalla and Augusta. He remembers the trips there with hams and chestnuts and swapping them for salt and coffee and gun-powder. Matches $1 A Box He knew a time when matchcs j were scarce and fetched a dollar ' a box and how folks kept a box of twisted paper tapers in a box beside the hearth for lighting their pipes or else used coals from j the fire. He grew up when candles and tallow-dips furnished light. He has known sweat and back breaking toil. Time wfis when he parched his own coffee and had a coffee-mill ! to grind it. He was born in a log cabin and never knew a home other than logs until he was almost thirty. He got his fun at corn-shuckin's, bean-stringin's, and house-raisin's. He celebrated Christmas with firing anvils and setting off hog rifles. He was a grown man before he got his first suit of store-bought clothes. The spinning wheel and loom and quilting b*ra were m familiar as bread and aalt. He hai known winters when the ice was so thick In the streams that horse teams loaded with logs could cross without (ear. He has knocked holes In froaen streams so there could be a bap tiling. He grew up when folks made their own shoes. He remembers the traveling dentist, the horse-and-buggy doc tor. the drummer. And now. with a century-less two-years behind him, his mind is as fresh as a sixteen-year-old. and just as curious of the things about him. He lives In the present and It's difficult to get him talking of the past. But when he does, the memories, are a flood tide of wonders. Television and radio have cap tured his attention. He would travel to the ends of the earth, and on a moment's notice, if he had the chance. And, yet, he still holds to the past in words he uses and in the things he does. He still carries three knives in his pocket. One is for whittling. One is for trading and the third Is for "throwin" ". Throwin' being a blind swap, sight unseen. He has seen the last, lost wild rabbit of a girl civilized with a mail-order dress and his beloved mountains slashed and torn by saw and bulldozer. Island fc Gone The pioneer-island in the world of his youth has disappeared. The fiddle-tunes he knew as a boy are only echoes. He sits by the fire of a winter night and studies the leaping flames. The fire still burns as it did in his youth. The fUmes still dance ghosts and witches over the low, near ceiling. Perhaps as he sits there he sometimes dreams. And, yet, he knows that dream ing men are haunted men. The ghosts of the past never die. And for him they walk as bold as life through his years. He hears them in the wind that blows outside and sees them in the flames that dance before him. But if they worry him, he never lets on. And for his grandson he brings them to life. He stirs the sleepy dust of his storehouse of memories so that ?his grandson may know what it was like when folks wore home spun. And when he does his eyes snap from their wrinklenests. Somehow, he doesn't seem like an old man when they light up. But, be that as it may, he's a landmark. And his years have made him a legend, and a ballad. ALL THIS WEEK Register here for 100 Dollars to be given away on the town square Saturday, February 23rd at 4:30 o'clock, by the mer chants of Franklin. SUITS, SPORT COATS, SLACKS, MANHATTAN ' DRESS SHIRTS, JARMAN SHOES. Every item in store on sale this week only. Register here for free prize. DRY MAN'S MEN'S AND BOYS' SHOP. 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