The Port Gibson herald, and correspondent., 1850-11-08


gettin' too high up in the picturs emmy
how, AN sez | one day in crowd, sez
eff that feller Arch Cooney don't minc
which side his breads buttered, I'll gi
hold of him one of these days, an II
make him see sites! Well, you see, thai
was two or three sheep-stealin' chaps list
nin' to what sed, an they goes an tells
Arch the fust chance I got, | was gwine
to larrup him. Well, that riled him like
all fury, an soon as he hern it, begin el
cussin' like wrath, an sez he, dod rot thai
ole Mick Shouter!-he pretend to be el
preacherl-his preachin' aint nuthin' but
loud hollerin' no how! So you see them
same chaps, they comes an tells me what
Arch he'd sed, an | got mad, too, an we
had the durndest rumpus in the neighbor.
hood you ever hearn!
didn't see nuthin' of Arch from that
time until about er month. Every time ]
went down to Satartia to buy enything
-er barrel of whiskey, or hacker, or such
like truck, for privit use-T looked for
Arch an Arch he looked for me, but, some
how or other, he never crossed my path.
At last, one day sent him word that |
believed he was skeered o. me, and the
fust chance | got I'd take the starch out n
him as sure as shootin'; an he sent word
back to me that was game what two
could play at, an when | wanted to try it,
he'd see if he couldn't help me.
Well, things went on that way for er
long time an didn't see nuthin' of Arch;
so begin to forgit all about him. At last
one day, when me an two or three other
chaps was gwine down to Big Black Riv-
er, to go bar huntin' on t'other side of it,
heard the darndest clatterwhackin' and
noise in the road behind US, an when
turned round to see what in the name of
thunder twas, thar was Arch an er whole
lot of fellers cumin' down the road, er gal
lopin' full tilt right up to US, an er gwine
bar huntin too
When | seed him | was so mad l
thought | should er burst right wide open!
| was hot, | tell you, and sez to myself,
now Mr. Arch, I've got you an if you
don't keep your eye skinned, I'll lick you
till your hide won't hold shucks.
Toreckly, Arch he cum up along side,
an looked me right plum in the face as
savage as er meet axe! an sez he, good
mornin', ole Preach!-give us your paw!
| see thar was hell in him as big as er
meetin'- house, an 'termined to give him
as good as he sent; SO looked at him sor-
ter savagerous like, an seq I, look here
boss, how can you have the face to talk to
me, arter sayin' what you sed?
Why, sez he uncle Mick, didn't you
begin it?
Nosez I, an eff you sez l begun it, I'll
larrup you in er inch of your life!
Sez he, you eternel ole cuss, eff you
want 80 larrup me, jest larrup away as
soon as you darn please, an We'll see
which ell git the wust of it!
Now, sez |, like you Arch, cause |
alTays thought you were er fust-rate feller;
but amt you been 'busin' me every whar
fur every thing you could think of!
Yes, sez he, but didn't you say you'd
git hold of me one of these days an make
me see sites?
No, sez |, | didn't; but this here's what
| sed: Sez l, eff that felIer Arch Cooney
don't mind aOhieh side of has breads but
tered, I'll git hold of him one of these
days an make him see sites!
Well, sez he, Uncle Mich, you knows
I'm the most peaceablest feller livin', an
alrays minds which side of my breads
buttered, an eff that's all you sed 'taint
let's take er drink?
Then he tuck out er ticker of whiskey,
an'arter he'd tuck two or three swalIers
out'n it, sez he, Uncle Mick, obleege me
by takin er horn?
No, sez I, | wont do no sich er dog on
thing, for when | likes er chap | likes
him, an when I don't like him | don't
like him: but if you wants to fight, I'm
your mani
You oughter seen Arch then! think
he was the most madest man that ever
wobbled on two hind legs! He r.ard, an
pitched an'cussed, an swore, tell you'd
er thought the day of judgmen' was at
ham!
When see him cuttin' up that way, l
commence gitin' mad too, an my knees,
they begin to shake, -sorter like had er
chill; an'--Skeere'd?-no sir?-an' /
s'posed thar was gwine to be the devil 70
pay! give you my word, | amt been so
wrathy afore but once since, an that was
t'otber day when Mat Cain, the black
smith, drunk up my last bottle of "ball:
face" an when tackled him bout it sed
he thought it was milk.
But that aint neither here norIthar. As
I was er sayin', Arch, he cussed at me,
an cuSsed at him, an the fellers what
was along with me sed | beat him all hol-
Ter!
Toreckly begin to git tired of jawin'
away SO much, an sez |, Arch, what's the
use of maxim sich er alfred racket bout
nuthin'? spose we make it up?
Good as wheat, sez he.
Well, sez l, give us your paw, sez I,
but, sez |, tbar's one thing you sed what
sorter sticks in my craW yit, an eff you
don't 'pollogise, I'll wollop You for it right
now.
What does you mean? sez he.
See |, didn't you sed one day, that my
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