Arkansas true Democrat., 1858-08-11

| l, yas, but du yu keep still; Sumthln Orfuls agwlne to happen imedjudly; thars signs and wonders in the ar; nj cntu twenty full moons am hangin in the ar abov the comb of the mountin, an they all has eyes and noses like Mister Clapshaw's an they's makin dredfull mouths ct me. en thar's "thousand laig" wum ontu the fence es long es a close line, hits body is red an streaks owe sheet tenin is playin amung hits scales an hit hev two imiges owe people in hits mouf, like ontu you and me. l kin see my har hangn most tn the yeath, an now an then hit gins them a shake an great big drops owe fat comes outen you, an afore they draps to the groun they ketches fire an burns like turpentine. Oh Lordy Gus, love? we hey ruinated our sefs. You begin rite in the middle ov the biggist six hoss prayer you know--nun owe yer little "now lay me down tn seeps," but rale strong devil skurin prayr, an keepon at hit, fur thars vexashun owe sperit an bodily tribulashun ahead for us bof' I hearn him groan au he trmbled till he shuck the chist but he sot in tn prayin for the hea- know'd that had planted big skeer an that hit would bar fruit afore moon down, so list snatched up chunk ove fire ofen the hath an toch off the powder ohder the tail owe the ole hoss. Now Ill iist be continentally an especial | breast high. an the fust time it struck the yeath were forty feet down the hill; rite thar the inst of the aigs got thur sefs busted the nex l time hit toch the yeath were on luther aind | Gan thar the balance of Sicly's ags gin up thar shells away below the stable, now the mixtry begun, aigs, lamp black, an OLE GUT FATTY. The chist tuck down the mountin; I s,ed hits course by the light of the cane squib an the fox fire, an every now and then the boss fotch yell-hit wont sqea UT pray, but sorter be- tween the two; orful sound. Ive never hearn any live thing make jst that nise afore or since an I swar I don't want tu.
 thort I'd foller an see what went with the chist. Arter I'd went mile ur so hearn a voice up in the ar, say, "mister, you'd better not travel much furler that course. Ills busted plumb open an this we're mountains fn,l owe the devils I wish l wer back in old Moth Calna, w.har onest people ken sleep owe nites." I looked up sorter skeer'd, an thar sat astraddle owe a limb owe big red Oak, a long bonv speciment owe regular herrln mersheen, in his shut tail; his eyes shned like mink's an the bottoms owe his feet looked sorter like a tater patch in the weeds Sez l, "hev yer got any Honor ef or is yer drunk at all, UT only durn'd foo?" "I an't neither (gln us chaw terbacker) list camped round the pint over | thar with the ole oman on her litter, when we wus woke up by an orful yell, an here cum the devil a tarn es big es a corn crib, an he had hpHfre hnrness on, an knot on the and owe | his tail es big es a turpentne stliI an he run over my hosses an upsot the waggin, an tuck thru my camp fire, making the chunks, an sparks, an ashes iv es high es the trees an out owe site in mint The ole hen an the chick ems am scattered an tuck this yere tree, an I'm gwine tn keep hit tll mornin. (dln us chaw terhacker.) I'll tell you, mister, this we're | Tennessee don't suit me- Sich sites owe nites, an sich mountains owe a day, will break down arrv man ever foal'd, an no herrin, nor tar dam the place. Pm gwine back, do you hear my horn? Sez I. speck you had best go back, and travel in the woods ct that for that warnt the devil you seed, but the fool killer fur Polk county an ef ever he sees you, you'll never see old Moth Calina. nur yer tar kiln either, so you had better mind.
 went on tn his camp, an thar sot Gut Fatty, squatted onter his hnnkers, all alone, an jiSt slch site were never hlt mp tn mortal eyes. He wer orfuly swell'd, he'd rolled wun way es well es luther, an he wer every color ever ln- vented. His shut wer stuck es tite tu him es my pasted one, an he wer peppered all over with broken ag shells, nara piece es big es l grain ove corn.
 | Here were a black streak aged with waller, thar yallar one aiged with black, then mix ed splotch ove'al cullurs, then little blood ozzing thru a sunhour calliker pattern on his belly UT his laigs, an his har looked like hit had been dipped in thunder and litenin and sky blue he no more like human than dad wer like a boss when he acted hit, an he out sunk a buzzards nest, fur sum owe the ags were sorter spilled like an sum were almost ready to chrp. To look at him an smell owe him you couldn't think he ever thought of an oman ur that wun would let him cum inter the lot. I think his appnrtite fur them kind ovn wttals are all gone, Sez "What CT you?" Do mo-" Ar you snm invenshun to skare vim min hoSsns?' "Do mo-" "Whar du you | live" Now his senses seemed sorter 10 cum tu him, an he axed how fur hit wer to the Hiwasse copper mines. Sez I. 1T never hearn tell owe hit" "Well, hits in Polk county, Tennessee" You am list about one hundred an iftv miles 1 rum thar, on the north side Of the Tennessee river, in Jackson county, Alabama" "Ts that fac, mster?'' "Sarin," sez l. He fetched big breath "well Eve made the fastest time ever made by mortal man atween them pints. I'se jest been about four minutes don hit, but hit has nj onto killed me-" "Now." sez I. 1 mister, el JnaL Is so, 0OnC you tell mt here, fur they'll take you fur the telegraph what they've been watchn fur with guns fur a long time. an they'll hev your scalp durned site quicker nor you made your fast trip, they don't believe in yon UT the devil what invented vou so don't waste time in putin another hundrefl miles TIT so atween you an this yer place." I | follered the hoss about seven miles bv the Doc tors truck what I'd giv him, but couldent ketck up. never seed him nor the chest nor Gut Fatty arter that nte an / dont care durn ef never do. Wonder eff Sicily misses him much! Ole Clapshaw believes in witches. an warlocks, an long nehbed things' "more than he does in Sicily and his growth" skeer ov ghostes keeps him at home O nights I railly think he's gettin to be pious man. Poor Sicily, she's warin thin, her eyes am grown big ger, an she has no roses on her cheeks. She cant laugh, an she ,oont cry. Haint hit orful to think owe? Say, George, don't sum feller up your way make whisky outen corn an not strike nine? If tbar is, send me wurd by the fust l