"He says: 'Why you don't want?'" said the interpreter.

The old slave-trader answered at some length.

"He says," said the interpreter, again turning to the officer, "the
marass is a too unhealth' for peopl' to live."

"But we expect to drain his old marsh; it's not going to be a marsh."

"_Il dit_"--The interpreter explained in French.

The old man answered tersely.

"He says the canal is a private," said the interpreter.

"Oh! _that_ old ditch; that's to be filled up. Tell the old man we're
going to fix him up nicely."

Translation being duly made, the man in power was amused to see a
thunder-cloud gathering on the old man's face.

"Tell him," he added, "by the time we finish, there'll not be a ghost
left in his shanty."

The interpreter began to translate, but--

"_J' comprends, J' comprends_," said the old man, with an impatient
gesture, and burst forth, pouring curses upon the United States, the
President, the Territory of Orleans, Congress, the Governor and all his
subordinates, striding out of the apartment as he cursed, while the