'No, sar! No darkies eats with us. Hope ye don't reckon _yerself_ no better than a good-for-nothin, no-account nigger!' 'I beg your pardon, madam; I intended no offense. Scipio has served me very faithfully for two days, and is very tired and hungry. I forgot myself.' This mollified the lady, and she replied,-- 'Niggers is good enuff in thar place, but warn't meant to 'sociate with white folks.' There may have been some ground for a distinction in that case; there certainly was a difference between the specimens of the two races then before me; but, not being one of the chivalry, it struck me that the odds were on the side of the black man. The whites were shiftless, ragged, and starving; the black well clad, cleanly, energetic, and as much above the others in intellect as Jupiter is above a church steeple. To be sure, color was against him, and he was, after all, a servant in the land of chivalry and of servant-owners. Of course the woman was right, after all. She soon resumed the conversation, with this remark:-- 'Reckon yer a stranger in these parts; whar d'ye come from?' 'From New York, madam.' 'New York! whar's that?' 'It's a city at the North.' 'Oh! yas; I've heern tell on it; that's whar the Cunnel sells his turpentine. Quite a place, ain't it?' 'Yes, quite a place. Something larger than all South Carolina.' 'What d'ye say? Larger nor South Carolina! Kinder reckon tain't, is't?' 'Yes, madam, it is.' 'Du tell! Tain't so large as Charles'n, is't?' 'Yes, twenty times larger than Charleston.' 'Lord o'massy! How does all the folks live thar?' 'Live quite as well as they do here.' 'Ye don't have no niggers thar, does ye?' 'Yes, but none that are slaves.' 'Have Ablisherners thar, don't ye? Them people that go agin the South?' 'Yes, some of them.' 'What do they go agin the South for?' 'They go for freeing the slaves. Some of them think a black man as good as a white one.' 'Quar, that; yer an Ablisherner, ain't ye?' 'No, I'm an old-fashioned Whig.' 'What's that? Never heerd on them afore.' 'An old-fashioned Whig, madam, is a man whose political principles are perfect, and who is as perfect as his principles.' That was a 'stumper' for the poor woman, who evidently did not understand one half of the sentence. 'Right sort of folks, them,' she said, in a half inquiring tone. 'Yes, but they're all dead now.' 'Dead?' 'Yes, dead, beyond the hope of resurrection.' 'I've heern all the dead war to be resurrected. Didn't ye say ye war one on 'em? _Ye_ ain't dead yet,' said the woman, chuckling at having cornered me. 'But I'm more than _half_ dead just now.' 'Ah,' replied the woman, still laughing, 'yer a chicken.' 'A chicken! what's that?' 'A thing that goes on tu legs, and karkles,' was the ready reply. 'Ah, my dear madam, you can out-talk me.' 'Yes, I reckon I kin outrun ye, tu. Ye ain't over rugged.' Then, after a pause, she added,--'What d'ye 'lect that darky Linkum for President for?'