Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1878-03-21
Nnmoruus department.
THE ARKANSAS TRAVELLER.


the wilderness, forty years ago, when settlers
in that region were few and far between.
The reader must imagine cabin in the will
derness in the doorway sits the wife smoking
her pipe surrounded by children of various
sizes; little to the left, boy was seen perched
upon an ash-hopper, while the squatter sits
upon barrel, fiddle in hand, playing the
"tune," half of which he never heard. As the
traveller approaches, he pauses not in his id-
ding, except to answer the questions pro-
pounded, between each of which he resumes
his music.
Traveler-Hello, stranger.
Squatter-Hello, yourself.
T. Can get to stay all night with you?
S.-No, sir; you can git to
T.-Have you any spirits here?
S.-Lots of 'em Sal saw one last night, by
that are ole hollow gum, and it nearly scared
her to death.
T.-You mistake my meaning; have you
any liquor?
S.-Had some yesterday, but Ole Boss he
got in and Tapped it all outen the pot.
T.-You don't understand. don't mean
pot LIQUOR. I am wet and cold, and want
some whisky. Have you got any!
Sob, yes. l drank the last this morn
in.
Tim hungry, haven't had any thing
since morning. Can't you give me something
to eat?
S.-Hain't burned thing in the house.
Not mouthful of meat nor dust OF meal
here.
T.-Well, can't you give my horse some
thing?
Scot nothing to feed him on.
T.-How far is it to the next house?
S.-Stranger, don't know; have never
bin thar.
T.-Well, do you know who lives here?
ST. do.
T.-As am so bold, then, what might
your name be7
Sit might be Dick and it might be Sam,
but it lacks right smart of it.
T-Sir, will you tell me where this road
goes to? :. !,
Sits never bin anywhar since I've lived
here; it's always thar when l get up IN the
mornin'.
T.-Well, how far is it to where it forks?
Sit don't fork at all, but splits up like
the ID.
T.-As I'm not likely to get to any other
house tonight, can't you let me sleep IN yours
And I'll tie my horse to tree and do with
out anything to eat or drink.
S.-My house leaks thar's only one dry
spot in it, and me and Sal sleeps on it; and
that thar tree is the old woman's persimmon.
You can't tie to it, case she don't want 'em
shuck off; she loves to make beer outen 'em.
T.-Why don't you finish covering your
house and stop the leaks
Sits been rainin' all day.
T.-Well, why don't you do it in dry
weather?
Sit don't leak then.
T-As there seems to be nothing alive
about your place but children, how do you
s.-Pu5ty we'll, I thank you. How do you
do yourself?
TT mean, what do you do for living
here?
S.-Keep tavern and sell whisky.
T.-Well, I told you wanted some whls-
ky.
S.-Stranger, bought barrel morn
week ago. You see, me and Sal went shares
Arter we got it here, we only had u bit be-
tween US, and Sal she didn't want to use
hern first, nor me mine. You see, had a
spggen in one end and she in t'other. So she
takes drink on my end and pays me the blt
for it; then I'd take one outen hern and
give her the bit. Well, we's Citing long
frstrate till Dick, burned skulking skunk,
he bored a hole in the bottom to suck at, and
the next time went to buy drink, there
wurn't none thar.
Tim sorry your whiskys all gone; but,
nv friend why don't you play the balance OF
that tune?
SITS got no balance to it.
TT mean, you don't play the whole of it.
S.-Stranger, kin you play the fiddle?
T.-Yes, a little, sometimes.
S.-You don't look like fiddler, but ef
you think you kin play any more on to that
thar tune you kin just git down and try.
(The traveller gets down and plays the
whole of it,
S.-Stranger, take half dozen cheers and
sot down. Sal, stir yourself round like six.
horse team in mudhole Go round in the
holar whar killed that buck this mornin',
cut off some of the best pieces, and fotch EN-
in and cook it for me and this gentleman, d.
rectly. Raise up the board from under the
head of the bed, and git the old black Jug |
hid from Dick, and give US some whisky /; |
know thar's some left yet. Till, drive ole
Boss outen the breadtray, then climb up in
the loft and get the rag that's got the sugar
tied in it. Dick, carry his horse to the shed,
and give him some fodder and corn, much
as be kin eat.
Till.-Dad there amt enough knives to
sot the table.
S.-War's big butch, little butch, ole case,
cob handle, granny's knife, and the one l
handled yesterday? That's enough to sot
any gentleman's meal. Stranger, you kin
stay as long as you please, and I'll give you
plenty to eat and drink. Will you have cof-
fee for supperf
T.-Yes, sir.
SIN be hanged if, you do, though. We
don't have nothin' that way here but Grub
Hyson, and I reckon it's mighty good with
sweatnin'. Play away, stranger. You kin
sleep on the dry spot tonight.
T. (After two hours 6ddling)-My friend,
can't YOU tell about the road | am to travel
tomorrow?
S.-To-morrow Stranger, you won't git
outen these diggin's for six weeks, but when
it gets so you kin start, you SEQ that big sloo
thar? Well, you have to git crost that, then
you take the road up the bank, and IN about
a mile you'll come to two-acre- -and-a-half
corn patch. The corn's nightly in the weeds,
but you needn't mind that, jist ride on.
About mile and half or two miles from
thar, you'll come to the d-dest swan you
ever struck in all your travels; it's boggy
enough to mire saddle blanket Ihars
q future road about six feet under thar.