In these countries, it always requires a whole day’s smart riding to go from one farm to another; and when the traveller is a “raw trotter” or a “green one” (Arkansas denomination for a stranger), the host employs all his cunning to ascertain if his guest has any money, as, if so, his object is to detain him as long as he can.  To gain this information, although there are always at home half-a-dozen strong boys to take the horses, he sends a pretty girl (a daughter, or a niece) to show you the stable and the maize-store.  This nymph becomes the traveller’s attendant; she shows him the garden and the pigs, and the stranger’s bedroom, &c.  The consequence is, that the traveller becomes gallant, the girl insists upon washing his handkerchief and mending his jacket before he starts the next morning, and by keeping constantly with him, and continual conversation, she is, generally speaking, able to find out whether the traveller has money or not, and reports accordingly.

Having supped, slept, and breakfasted, he pays his bill and asks for his horse.

“Why, Sir,” answers the host, “something is wrong with the animal—­he is lame.”

The traveller thinks it is only a trifle; he starts, and discovers, before he has made a mile, that his beast cannot possibly go on; so he returns to the farm, and is there detained, for a week perhaps, until his horse is fit to travel.

I was once cheated in this very manner, and had no idea that I had been tricked; but, on leaving another farm, on the following day, I found my horse was again lame.  Annoyed at having been delayed so long, I determined to go on, in spite of my horse’s lameness.  I travelled on for three miles, till at last I met with an elderly man also on horseback.  He stopped and surveyed me attentively, and then addressed me:—­

“I see youngster, you are a green one.”

Now I was in uncommon bad temper that morning, and I answered his question with a “What do you mean, you old fool?”

“Nay, pardon me,” he resumed; “I would not insult a stranger.  I am Governor Yell, of this state, and I see that some of my ’clever citizens’ have been playing a trick upon you.  If you will allow me, I will cure the lameness of your horse in two minutes.”

At the mention of his name, I knew I was speaking to a gentleman.  I apologized for my rough rejoinder, and the governor, dismounting, then explained to me the mystery of the “ring.”  Just above my horse’s hoof, and well concealed under the hair, was a stout silken thread, tied very tight; this being cut, the horse, in a moment, got rid of his lameness.

As the governor and I parted, he gave me this parental advice:—­

“My dear young man,” said he, “I will give you a hint, which will enable you to travel safely through the Arkansas.  Beware of pretty girls, and honest, clever people; never say you are travelling further than from the last city to the nearest, as a long journey generally implies that you have cash; and, if possible, never put your horse in a stable.  Farewell.”