“That gal of old Fecho's wur about the pootyest creatur, fur a foreigner, I ever took a _shute_ arter; her eyes jest floated about in her head like a star's shadow on a Massissippi wave, and her model was as trim as the steamer Eagle, 'sides, her paddles wur the cleanest shaped fixins that ever propelled anythin' human, and her laugh rung like a challenge bell on a 'fast trip'--it couldn't be beat. She run into my affecshuns, and I couldn't help it. I danced with her at some on the balls in Frenchtown, and thar I gin to edge up and talk tender at her, but she ony laughed at my sweet'nin'. Arter a spell, when I cum it strong about affecshun, and the needcessity of towin' side and side together, she told me that her old daddy wouldn't let her marry an American! Ef I warn't snagged at this, I wouldn't say so. The old fellar wur a sittin' on a bench smokin' and lookin' on at the dance, and I jest wished him a hot berth for a short spell. 'Well, Marie,' said I, c ef I melt the old man down will you gin in?' “'Oh,' says she, 'you so vair strong at de vat you call _coax_, I shall not know how to say von leetel no.' So havin' fixed it all with her smooth as a full freight and a June rise, I drew up alongside of the old fellar, jest as he had cleared his chimley for a fresh draw of his pipe. Old Fecho had been a mountain trader, was strong timbered, not much the worse fur wear, and looked wicked as a tree'd bear. I fired up and generated an inch or two more steam, and then blew off at him. 'That's an onconscionable slick gal of your'n, Mounseer,' says I, to begin with, and it did tickle his fancy to have her cracked up, 'cause he thought her creation's finishin' touch,--so did I! 'Oui, sair,' says old Fecho, 'she vair fine leetel gal, von angel wizout de ving, she is, sair, mine only von _fille_.' “'Well, she is a _scrouger_,' answered I, 'a parfect high pressure, and no dispute!' “'Vat you mean by him, eh? vat you call s-c-r-r-r-ouge, eh? vat is he, sair, my leetel gal no vat you call von s-c-r-r-r-ouge, sair!' and here old Fecho went off into a mad fit, jest as ef I'd called her bad names. I tried to put down his 'safety valve,' but he would blow off his wrath, and workin' himself into a parfect freshet of rage, he swore he would take the little gal off home; and I'm blessed ef he didn't. As soon as I eyed the old fellar startin' I got in his wake and follered him, detarmined to find out whar he located, and arter an eternal long windin' through one street arter another, down he dived into French Hollow. Jest as he wur about to enter a house built agin the side of the hill, the old fellar heered my footsteps, and turnin' round in the darkness, he shouted-- “'Ah, ha! von sneak Yankee doodel, vat call my leetel gall von s-c-r-r-r-ouger, I shall cut you all up into von leetel piece vidout von whole.'