He was upon a "pacer," and could soon have passed me; but instead of doing so, he checked his steed into a walk, and rode by my side. Glancing toward him, I saw that he was a young man, dressed in white linen coat and trowsers, with well-fitting boots upon his feet, and a Panama hat upon his head.
"A planter," was my reflection, "or the son of one;" for he did not appear to be over twenty years of age.
"The Penitentiary!" he said, seeing that my eyes were fixed upon the building. "You've been in there, I suppose?"
The question sounded so odd, that my first impulse was to answer it with a laugh, which I did; though with no idea that it had been put through any discourtesy.
My interrogator, perceiving the droll interpretation his speech permitted, joined me in the laugh.
"Pardon me!" he said, apologizing. "Of course you know what I mean. I take you to be a stranger in these parts, and supposed you might like to know something of this State fortress of ours."
"A thousand thanks!" I rejoined. "You are right. I am a traveler, and as such not without curiosity. The State Penitentiary you say it is. I shall feel very much indebted to you for any information you may think proper to give me about it."
"Suppose you go with me inside? I know the governor, and can get admittance. It will be worth your while, if only to see Murrell."
"Murrell—who is he?"
"Oh! that of itself would tell you to be a stranger to Tennessee; else you would have heard of him. Murrell is the great pirate and robber of the Mississippi—long notorious upon the roads and rivers. He has committed scores of murders, it is said; and several have been proved against him. For all that, he is in for only ten years, and has already served six of them. Would you like to have a look at him?"