“Not dreamin' of the row at home, I was a huntin' through Noo Orlins fur presents fur Sally. I bought a roll of ribbon, a pocket full of lace, and a bran new, shinin' silk parasol, and was comin' along, slow and easy, by the St. Louis Exchange, when I heerd Major Beard cryin' off a lot of field hands. I jest sauntered in as he was puttin' up a picanninny 'yaller gal,' about five years old. The little gal had no mammy livin', and looked sorter sickly, so nobody seemed anxious to git her. I hollered fifty dollars, and the little creatur' brightened up when she seed who was a biddin'; I didn't look like a sugar or cotton planter, and the creatur' seemed glad that I warn't. Some cotton fellar here bid sixty dollars, and she wilted rite down--I thort what a slick present she'd be fur Sally, and how well she'd do to tend the children, so I sung out seventy dollars; she knew my voice, and I could see her eyelids trimble. No sooner did the Major drop the hammer on seventy dollars, than she looked wuth a hundred, she was so pleased at my buyin' her. She was a nice little creatur', but her _har_ was oncommon straight. “I started up home next day, with my purchases, and sich a time as I had on the way. I got dreamin' so strong about bein' married to Sally, that I was etarnally wakin' up huggin' and kissin' the pillows, as ef they wur gals at a huskin'. At last I got home, tickled all to death at my future prospects. I met Jess at the landin'--he gin me a starr, looked at the little yaller gal, and then spread himself with a guffaw, as ef he wur goin' into fits. I riled up a little, but thought thar wur time enough to sarve him out, so I passed on. The fellars in the settlement seemed to be allfired pleased at my gittin' back, fur they kept a grinnin' and bowin' and lookin' at my little yaller gal. “'Wont you take a little suthin', Sam,' said Jim Belt, the grocery keeper. “'Not now, I thank you, Jim, ses I.' “'What, you aint agoin' in fur temperance _pledges_, too, are you?' asked Jim, and then the boys all holler'd as ef they'd bust thar heads. “'Not ex-a-c-t-ly!' ses I, rather slow, tryin' all the time to find out what the fun war, but I couldn't get it through my kiverin' of _har_, so I gin it up and went home. Next day thar wur to be a campmeetin' down in the bottom, and all the boys and gals wur agoin' to it; so, to make a shine with Sally, I sent over word that I would call that mornin' and bring with me my fust _pledge of affection_, meanin' the parasol, and hoped it would be to her mind both in _textur_ and color. Back came this note in anser: “'Kune Holler, Juli 8. “'Miss Spillman's compliments “'To Sam Crowder, Esq.; the fust pledge of his affections is a little too yaller, and the textur of its har is too tight a curl, and, more'n that, she aint ambitious to hev any of his pledges ef tha wur all white. “'Sally Spillman.'