Piece of history illustrative of the violent style of some of the people down along here, During the early weeks of high water, A’s fence rails washed down on B’s ground, and B’s rails washed up in the eddy and landed on A’s ground.  A said, ’Let the thing remain so; I will use your rails, and you use mine.’  But B objected—­wouldn’t have it so.  One day, A came down on B’s ground to get his rails.  B said, ’I’ll kill you!’ and proceeded for him with his revolver.  A said, ‘I’m not armed.’  So B, who wished to do only what was right, threw down his revolver; then pulled a knife, and cut A’s throat all around, but gave his principal attention to the front, and so failed to sever the jugular.  Struggling around, A managed to get his hands on the discarded revolver, and shot B dead with it—­and recovered from his own injuries.

Further gossip;—­after which, everybody went below to get afternoon coffee, and left me at the wheel, alone, Something presently reminded me of our last hour in St. Louis, part of which I spent on this boat’s hurricane deck, aft.  I was joined there by a stranger, who dropped into conversation with me—­a brisk young fellow, who said he was born in a town in the interior of Wisconsin, and had never seen a steamboat until a week before.  Also said that on the way down from La Crosse he had inspected and examined his boat so diligently and with such passionate interest that he had mastered the whole thing from stem to rudder-blade.  Asked me where I was from.  I answered, New England.  ‘Oh, a Yank!’ said he; and went chatting straight along, without waiting for assent or denial.  He immediately proposed to take me all over the boat and tell me the names of her different parts, and teach me their uses.  Before I could enter protest or excuse, he was already rattling glibly away at his benevolent work; and when I perceived that he was misnaming the things, and inhospitably amusing himself at the expense of an innocent stranger from a far country, I held my peace, and let him have his way.  He gave me a world of misinformation; and the further he went, the wider his imagination expanded, and the more he enjoyed his cruel work of deceit.  Sometimes, after palming off a particularly fantastic and outrageous lie upon me, he was so ‘full of laugh’ that he had to step aside for a minute, upon one pretext or another, to keep me from suspecting.  I staid faithfully by him until his comedy was finished.  Then he remarked that he had undertaken to ‘learn’ me all about a steamboat, and had done it; but that if he had overlooked anything, just ask him and he would supply the lack.  ’Anything about this boat that you don’t know the name of or the purpose of, you come to me and I’ll tell you.’  I said I would, and took my departure; disappeared, and approached him from another quarter, whence he could not see me.  There he sat, all alone, doubling himself up and writhing this way and that, in the throes of unappeasable laughter.  He must have made himself sick; for he was not publicly visible afterward for several days.  Meantime, the episode dropped out of my mind.