One morning last week a chilly dawn broke over a jerkwater Georgia town on the Southern Railroad. The main street, two ribbons of concrete with newly planted evergreens growing between them, led off at right angles from the track. Fronting on its brief course were the low brick facades of the drug store with its awning, the post office with its green shades, the bank with its blank windows, the general store with its metal canopy, the grocery stores, the filling stations. But in one respect this small town was different: the tourists...

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