“Wal, darn you, didn’t I say bathe? I know what I’m about, I guess.” “I will accommodate you as far as I can,” said the Captain, “but I’ve nothing but a mattrass to offer, and that is upon the cabin floor.” “Dew tell.” “It is the only one that is vacant, and the cabin floor is covered with them, so you had better secure it at once.” “Wal, then, I guess I’d better turn right in.” I omitted to mention that he carried a valise in his hand. Some one rather impertinently asked him what he had in it. “Wal,” said he, “I don’t know that it’s any of your business, but I don’t mind telling on you. There is two shirts, one clean, t’other dirty; a pair of pants about as good as new, only a leetle worn here and there, and a pair of pistols. D’ye want I should take ’em out and show you?” When he went down to turn in, he put the valise under his head, wrapped his old cloak around him, and threw himself, as he said, “into the arms of omnibus.” The mattrasses on the other side of him, were occupied by some rough Kentucky boatmen. In the middle of the night, these men got up and commenced playing cards. No table being handy, they made use of the back of our Yankee friend for one, and chalked the reckoning of the game upon the camblet cloak, which surrounded the body of the unconscious sleeper. They became interested in the game, and began to lay down their cards with a might of fist, and earnestness of manner, which soon roused up our sleeping friend. He attempted to rise, but was held down by one of the party, who exclaimed: “Lie still, stranger, I’ve only got three to go, and I hold the Jack.” “Never mind, I’m a most smothered here, but go ahead, darn you, play quick and I’ll go you halves.” He according lay still, until they had finished their game, but whether the Kentucky gambler divided his gains with his table, was never satisfactorily ascertained. ----- [10] By G. H. Hill. XII. DICK M’COY’S SKETCHES OF HIS NEIGHBOURS. Last summer, I determined to visit the battle-ground of the _Horse-Shoe_, to see if any vestiges remained of _Old Hickory’s_ great fight with the Indians of the Tallapoosa. Fond of all sorts of aquatic diversion, I concluded to take the river four or five miles above, and descend to the “Shoe,” and I therefore employed an old crony of mine, Dick M’Coy, to take me down in a canoe. Dick lives on the bank, and has all the qualifications of an otter, for river explorations.