7

Alabama "Uncle Bud" Ryland 7

"At fust I got some letters, " he said , "but they
knowed I couldn't read. I don't know what was in 'em,
because I never had 'em read to me. I don't git word
now, but they air good kids, an' they'll git along. I
sorter fell thet I should stay down hyar clos't t' my
weak-minded boy. He don't git along well sometimes, an'
I keep purty close watch on him."

It was during the middle of September that I visited
"Uncle Bud," a time when Europe was on the brink of war
after the demands of Adolf Hitler. But he knew nothing
about the trouble over Czechslovakia--he had never so
much as heard of that nation--and Adolf Hitler was only
a name to him. He knew that "Mister Rosy-velt" was
President of the United States, or had been the last time
he heard. So far as politics or current events were con-
cerned, he was not interested.

"I never voted fer nothin'," he told me, "They
didn't seem t' be no sense in me doin' hit."

He was dozing in his chair when I waked him and told
him it was nine o'clock. He threatened to become angry
if I protested sleeping on the lone bed, which was far
more comfortable than the wobbly cot upon which he
sprawled after winning the argument. But loud snoring
soon let me know that he was sleeping as if he were re-
clining upon the most expensive mattress that modern
manufacturers can create.

I left next morning with a swig of corn whisky and

384

Alabama "Uncle Bud" Ryland 7

"At fust I got some letters, " he said , "but they
knowed I couldn't read. I don't know what was in 'em,
because I never had 'em read to me. I don't git word
now, but they air good kids, an' they'll git along. I
sorter fell thet I should stay down hyar clos't t' my
weak-minded boy. He don't git along well sometimes, an'
I keep purty close watch on him."

It was during the middle of September that I visited
"Uncle Bud," a time when Europe was on the brink of war
after the demands of Adolf Hitler. But he knew nothing
about the trouble over Czechslovakia--he had never so
much as heard of that nation--and Adolf Hitler was only
a name to him. He knew that "Mister Rosy-velt" was
President of the United States, or had been the last time
he heard. So far as politics or current events were con-
cerned, he was not interested.

"I never voted fer nothin'," he told me, "They
didn't seem t' be no sense in me doin' hit."

He was dozing in his chair when I waked him and told
him it was nine o'clock. He threatened to become angry
if I protested sleeping on the lone bed, which was far
more comfortable than the wobbly cot upon which he
sprawled after winning the argument. But loud snoring
soon let me know that he was sleeping as if he were re-
clining upon the most expensive mattress that modern
manufacturers can create.

I left next morning with a swig of corn whisky and

384