shot the other with one of Colt's
revolving six-barrel pistols. This event stopped legislative business
for that day; the corpse was carried to the tavern where I had just
arrived, and the murderer, having procured bail for two thousand
dollars, ran away during the night, and nobody ever thought of searching
for him.

The corpse proved to be a bonus for my landlord, who had it deposited in
a room next to the bar, and as the news spread, all the male population
of Little Rock came in crowds to see with their own eyes, and to give
their own opinion of the case over a bottle of wine or a glass of
whisky.

Being tired, I went to bed early, and was just dozing, in spite of the
loud talking and swearing below, when I heard five or six shots fired in
rapid succession, and followed by yells and screams. I got up and
stopped a negro girl, as she was running up-stairs, a picture of terror
and despair.

"What is the matter, Blackey?" said I, "are they shooting in the bar?"

"Oh, yes, Massa," she answered, "they shoot terrible. Dr Francis says,
Dr Grey is a blackguard; Dr Grey says, Dr Francis is a ruffian; Dr
Francis shoots with big pistols and kills Dr Grey; Dr Grey shoots with
other pistols and kills Dr Francis."

"What," I exclaimed, "after he was dead?"

"Oh no, Massa, before he was dead; they shoot together--pan, pan, pan."

I went down-stairs to ascertain the circumstances attending this double
murder. A coroner's inquest had been held upon the body of the
legislator killed in the morning, and the two surgeons, who had both
drunk freely at the bar, had quarrelled about the direction which the
ball had taken. As they did not agree, they came to words; from words
to blows; ending in the grand finale of shooting each other.

I was so sickened and disgusted with the events of one day, that I paid
my bill, saddled my horse myself, and got a man to ferry me over the
Arkansas river, a noble, broad, and rapid stream, on the southern bank
of which the capital is situated. I rode briskly for a short hour, and
camped in the woods alone, preferring their silence and dreariness to
remaining to witness, under a roof, further scenes of bloodshed and
murder.

North of the Arkansas river, the population, though rough and "not
better than it should be," is less sanguinary and much more hospitable;
that is to say, a landlord will shew you civility for your money, and in
Batesville, a city (fifty houses, I think) upon the north