The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1878-09-27
The ArkanSaw Traveller.
OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES.

We publish the following, because the
time has come when it should be read over.
1t has made you laugh before and it will
do it again.
Iu the early settlement of Arkansas, Il
traveller, after riding some eight or ten
miles without meeting q human being or
seeing human habitation, came at last, by
sudden turn of the wood road, to mser-
able "shanty," the centre of small clear.
ing, in what had originally been "black
jack thickct," whence the only sound that
proceeds is the dscordant music of a
broken winded fiddle, from the troubled
bowels of which the occupant is laborious-
ly eXtorting the monotonous tune known
as ''The Arkansas" or "Rackensack Travel
en-" Our traveller rides up to within few
feet of the door, which was once the bed
frame of cart body, now covered with
bear skins, and hung upon two big wooden
hinges.
After much shouting, the inmate APP
pears, fiddle in hand, and evidently wrathy
at being interrupted in the exercise of his
art. The following colloquy ensues, the
indeiatigable fiddler still playing the first
strain of "Thc Arkansaw Traveller" which,
in fact, he continues at sudden intervals,
until, the dialogue, as will be seen, is
brought to sudden conclusion. Ifthis be
not seeking lodgings under difficulties"
we should like to know what might be
lcgitimatcly so considered:
Traveler-"F Friend, can / obtain accom-
modations for the night with you2"
Arkansas Artist mo, sir, nary com
modation."
Traveler-"My dear sir, have travelled
over thirty miles to-day, and neither my
self nor my horse have had mouthiul to
eat. Why can't you accommodate me for
the night ?"
Arkansas Artist-"Jus't case it can't be
did. We are plum out of anything to eat
in the house; Bills gone to mill with the
last nubbin of corn on these premises, and
| it'll be nigh onto the shank of tomorrow
evcnin' aiorc he Gums home, unless suthin
uncommon happens"
Travelcr--"You surely have something
| that can feed my horse; even few pota-
toes would be better than no food"
Arkansas Artist-"Strangcr, our eaten
roots gin out about IL week ago; so your
chance is slim thar"
Traveer--"But, my friend Unjust remain
with you, any way. can't go any further
whether | obtain anything to eat or not
You certainly will allow me the shelter Of
| your roofT'
Arkansas Artist-"It can't be did, old
hoss. You see we've got only one dried
hide on the premises, and me and the ole
woman allus occupies that so WEARS youl
| chance2"
Traveler-"Allow me to hitch my horse
to that persimmon tree, and with my sad
die and blanket I'll make bed in the
fence corner"
Arkansas Artst-"IIitch your horse tc
that 'simmon tree? In a horn. Why yor
must be nat'ral fool, strangerl Don't yor
see that's me an the ole woman's only
chance for simmon beer in the fall of the
year If your hoss is so tarnal hungry II.
you say he is, he'd girdle it as high up a.
lie could reach afore murnin'. Hitch YOU
boss to that tree 'spect not; no, no
stranger, you can't come nary such IL dodge
as that"
Our traveller, seeing lie had an origina
to deal with, and being himself an amateur
performer upon the instrument to which
the settler was so ardently attached
thought he would change his tactics, ant
draw his determined not he "host" ou
little before informing him of the fac
that he, too, could make fiddle squeak,
piece of information which, once being
known, he rightly conjectured, would be
passport to his better graces:
Traveer-"Well, friend, if l can't stay
how far is it to the next house 2"
Arkansas Artist-"Ten miles; and you'll
think they're mighty long ones, too, for
you git thar. came nigh onto forgettin
to tell you the big creek is up; the bridg
is carried off +; there's nary ycarthly chanc
to ford it; and il yer bound to cross i
yer'll have to go about seven miles VI
stream, to old Dave Lody's puncheol
bridge, through one of the darkest bambo
swamps you ever see. reckon the bridg
| is standin' yet; twas yesterday mornin