Arizona weekly enterprise., 1882-11-04

T. Why don't you finish covering your house and stop. the leaks?-
 s. It's been rainin' all day.
 T. We'll, why don't you do it in dry weather?
 S. It don't leak, then.
 T. As there seems to be nothing alive about your place but children, how do you do here. anyhow?
 s. Putty well, thank you. How d. you do yourself?
 T. l mean, what do you do for living here?
 S. Keep tavern, and sell whisky.
 T. Well. told you that wanted some whisky.
 S. Stranger. bought a bar'l nor a week ago. You see, me and Sal went shars. Arter we got it here we only had bit betweenst us, and Sal she didn't want to use hern fust, nor me mine You see, had spiggin in one end, and she in t'other. So she takes 8 drink out'n my end, and pays me the bit for it; then I'd take one out n hern, and give her the bit. Well, we's get ting long fust-rate till Dick, durneC skulking skunk, he bor' n hole on the bottom to suck at, and the next time I went to buy drink there want none thar.
 T. I'm sorry your whisky's all gone, but, my friend, why don't you play the balance of that tuneP
 s. It's got no balance to it.
 T. l mean you don't play the whole of it.
 S. Stranger, can you play the fiddul?
 T. Yes; little, sometimes.
 S. You don't look like fiddlur, but of you think you can play any more on- to that thar tune, you kin just try it.
 (The traveller takes the fiddle and plays the whole of it.)
 S. Stranger, tuck half-a-dozen cheers and sot down. Sal. stir yourself round like a six-horse team in a mud-hole. Go round in the holler where 1 killed that buck this mornin', cut off some of the best pieces, and fetch it and cook it for me and this gentleman directly. Raise up the board under the head of the bed, and get the old black jug hid from Dick, and gin us some whisky. 1 know there's some left yit. Til, drive climb up in the loft and git the rag that's got the sugar tied in it. Dick, carry the gentleman hoss round under the shed. and give him some fodder and corn. much as he kin eat.
 Til. Dad, they ain't knifes enuff for to sot the table.
 5. Whar's big butch, little butch, old case. cob-handle, granny's knife, and the one I handled yesterday' That S enuff to sot any gentleman's table. out n you lost um. Durn me, stranger, of you can't stay as long as you please, and I'll give you plenty to eat and drink. Will you have coffey for supper? T. Yes, sir.
 S. I'll be hanged if you do, tho. We don't have nothin' that way here but grub Tyson, and I reckon it's mighty good with sweetenin'. Play away, stranger; you kin sleep on the dry spot tonight.
 T. (After about two hours fddling. My friend, can't you tell me about the road I'm to travel tomorrow?
 S, Tomorrow! Stranger, you won't get out'n these diggins for six weeks. But when it gifts so you kin start, you see that big sloo over thar? We'll, you | have to git crost that; then you take the road up the bank, and in about mile l you'll come to a atwo-acre-and-a-half corn 1 patch. The corn'S mitily in the weeds, but you needn't mind that; just ride on. 1 About mile and half or two miles from there you'll come to the d-dest swamp you ever struck in all youl travels; it's boggy enuff to mire sad dle-blanket. Thar's fust-rate road about six feet under thar.
 T. How am to get at it?
 S. You can't get at it nary & time till the weather stiffens down sum We'll, about mile byeant you come tc place whar thar no roads. You kir take the right hand ef you want to you'll foller it a mile or so, and you'll find it's run out; you'll then have tC come back and try the left; when yor git about two miles on that you'll know you are wrong, fur they ain't any roac thar. You'll then think you're mity lucky to find the way back to my house whar you kin come and play on that g. tune as long as you please.