"Charmany. Dat ist far off, but a goot coontry; ant dis ist goot coontry too." "Why you leab him, den, if he be good country, eh?" "Vhy you leaf Africa, canst you dell me dat?" retorted uncle Ro, somewhat coolly. "Nebber was dere," growled old Yop, bringing his blubber lips together somewhat in the manner the boar works his jaws when it is prudent to get out of his way. "I'm York-nigger born, and nebber seen no Africa; and nebber want to see him, nudder." It is scarcely necessary to say that Jaaf belonged to a school by which the term of "coloured gentleman" was never used. The men of his time and stamp called themselves "niggers;" and ladies and gentlemen of that age took them at their word, and called them "niggers" too; a term that no one of the race ever uses now, except in the way of reproach, and which, by one of the singular workings of our very wayward and common nature, he is more apt to use than any other, when reproach is intended. My uncle paused a moment to reflect before he continued a discourse that had not appeared to commence under very flattering auspices. "Who might lif in dat big stone house?" asked uncle Ro, as soon as he thought the negro had had time to cool a little. "Anybody can see you no Yorker, by dat werry speech," answered Yop, not at all mollified by such a question. "Who _should_ lib dere but Gin'ral Littlepage?" "Vell, I dought he wast dead, long ago." "What if he be? It's his house, and he lib in it; and ole _young_ missus lib dere too."