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"But what about the child I saw?"

"Yes, that's Bertha and Harry's child all right, but they can't get married because Bertha has a husband living. You see," he went on, glad of an attentive listener, "these people in the Pines have ways of their own and I suppose they seem strange to an outsider."

"Are these the 'Pineys' or 'Pine Rats' one hears so much about?"

"Exactly. Some of the better among them dislike the name but most of them do not care. That Bertha you just saw is a case I can tell you; before she went to live with Harry she lived with Bill Forman over at Gull's Point."

"Bill Forman? Why, he is the uncle of one of our Vineland girls! Do tell me, where is Bill now?"

"State's prison. They got into a fight and Bertha had him locked up. Bill has a wife and children living somewhere -- down at Gooseneck, I believe."

Family Tree of a "Piney"

"Who is this Bertha anyway," I asked for I had a consuming interest in genealogy.

"Why, her mother was 'Caddie,' 'Caddie Dink' they call her, and her father, but that would be rather hard to tell. Caddie married when she was a young girl an old man 'Stumpy Joe,' who had a lot of boys. Caddie ran with all of them; the old man finally hung himself in the woods -- they say, because he couldn't stop her -- some say that Caddie and 'Snapper Bill,' another fellow she used to run with, did it -- anyway he was found dead, hanging there. Simple old fellow, he hardly had enough sense to hang himself. All Caddie's children are like her, unless it is the youngest May -- she's a pretty little girl that something might come of if she only had a chance."

"Has Caddie many children?"

"Nine or ten. 'Joe boy,' Stumpy's son, is the father of some of them. He stays home with them and when Caddie isn't running with somebody else she comes back to them. He's too lazy to work and when she's away the county has to keep them. Bertha is the oldest child. When she was only sixteen her mother made her marry old Jim Bently who was sixty-eight. Jim had had three wives and eleven children by the last wife -- but that didn't stop her running off with Dan Zahmey who left a wife and six children. Bertha and Jim didn't get on, as might have been expected, so they went back to old Squire King who married them, and got a writing of separation. Of course, it isn't legal but they think it is. To come back to Harry that you first asked me about, he's a pretty good fellow to work; he doesn't drink, and what's more, he always pays for what he gets at the store, a matter of seven or eight dollars a week."

The calm tone of acceptance with which these facts were related, astonished me almost as much as the facts themselves. It was soon apparent that they were but an index to the situation in the whole community.

The Manner of the People

Caddie Dink was somewhat exceptional owing to her abounding vitality, but the standards of living were much the same for all. Caddie's youngest sister was married to "Sammy boy" another son of Stumpy. They lived in a shack in the woods on the edge of a cranberry bog and there were five feeble-minded children whose paternal parentage was very uncertain. "Sammy boy" like "Joe boy" was too lazy to work and what his wife did not earn she begged. There were rumors that his shack was a rendezvous for the men and that Sammy drew quite an income from their visits. Suse, his wife, was an energetic, sharp-tongued, shrill-voiced woman, with black hair, sparkling black eyes, finely shaped oval face, and dark gypsy coloring. The freedom of her life gave strength and vigor to her limbs and a rosy coloring to her cheeks. In the woods, on a cold day, with a bit of shawl wrapped about her, the fragment of a scarf on her head, a sack half full of potatoes over her shoulder, she was a wild, almost graceful creature that seemed the genius of the place. Only when togged out in the forlorn cast-offs of civilization could one see how coarse and vulgar she was. One day Suse came into the kitchen of a farm house to warm herself and was left there a minute alone. A few days later she came back and asked to see the mistress of the house.

"I brought back this ladle," she said, drawing something from under her coat. "My conscience wouldn't let me keep it, and I thought," she went on, "perhaps if ye had an old hat you'd give it to me, cause I ain't got nothin' to wear on me head."

The astonished mistress recognized a valued family heirloom in the large silver spoon which Suse held out. The indulgent woman not only readily forgave Suse but gave her the hat besides.

There were several other sisters of Caddie and Suse who were of similar intelligence; one of these was taken into a good family. These people for over ten years labored to make of her a self-directing, virtuous, and respectable young woman. They were finally forced to admit that their efforts had been fruitless, and to let her go her own way. Then there was an imbecile sister who had always been cared for in the county insane asylum, and an imbecile brother who had been sent to the Vineland Training School in the early days. He was a strong and uncontrollable creature who could not be detained in the institution owing to a peculiar violence of disposition, nor were the bars and bolts of the county asylum capable of keeping him safe inside, so for self-protection the community was forced to get him committed to state's prison. After serving his term he was liberated and soon after was killed while walking on the railroad.