Irish).] The traders brought their goods from Alexandria, Baltimore, or
even Philadelphia, and made a handsome profit. The lower taverns were
scenes of drunken frolic, often ending in free fights. There was no
constable, and the sheriff, when called to quell a disturbance, summoned
as a posse those of the bystanders whom he deemed friendly to the cause
of law and order. There were many strangers passing through; and the
better class of these were welcome at the rambling log-houses of the
neighboring backwoods gentry, who often themselves rode into the taverns
to learn from the travellers what was happening in the great world
beyond the mountains. Court-day was a great occasion; all the
neighborhood flocked in to gossip, lounge, race horses, and fight. Of
course in such gatherings there were always certain privileged
characters. At Abingdon these were to be found in the persons of a
hunter named Edward Callahan, and his wife Sukey. As regularly as
court-day came round they appeared, Sukey driving a cart laden with
pies, cakes, and drinkables, while Edward, whose rolls of furs and deer
hides were also in the cart, stalked at its tail on foot, in full
hunter's dress, with rifle, powder-horn, and bullet-bag, while his fine,
well-taught hunting-dog followed at his heels. Sukey would halt in the
middle of the street, make an awning for herself and begin business,
while Edward strolled off to see about selling his peltries. Sukey never
would take out a license, and so was often in trouble for selling
liquor. The judges were strict in proceeding against offenders--and even
stricter against the unfortunate tories--but they had a humorous liking
for Sukey, which was shared by the various grand juries. By means of
some excuse or other she was always let off, and in return showed great
gratitude to such of her benefactors as came near her mountain cabin.
[Footnote: Campbell MSS.; an account of the "Town of Abingdon," by David
Campbell, who "first saw it in 1782."]