THE dialect of the negroes of Eastern Virginia differs totally from that of the Southern negroes, and in some material points from that of those located farther west. The elision is so constant that it is impossible to produce the exact sound, and in some cases it has been found necessary to subordinate the phonetic arrangement to intelligibility. The following rules may, however, aid the reader The final consonant is rarely sounded. Adverbs, prepositions, and short words arqfrequently slighted, as is the possessive. The letter Y is not usually mlled except when used as a substitute for h, but is pronounced ah. For instance, the following is a fair representation of the peculiarities cited The sentence, It was curious, he said, he wanted to go into the other army, would sound Twuz cu-yus, he say, he wan t to go in to tun ah-my. MARSE CHAN. A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIA. NE afternoon, in the autumn of 1872, I was riding leisurely down the sandy road that minds along the top of the water-shed between two of the smaller rivers of eastern Virginia. The road I was travelling, following the ridge for miles, had just struck me as most significant of the character of the race whose only avenue of communication with the outside world it had formerly been. Their once splendid mansions, now fast falling to decay, ap peared to view from time to time, set back far from the road, in proud seclusion, among groves of oak and hickory, now scarlet and gold with the early frost. Distance was nothing to this people time was of no consequence to them. They desired but a level path in life, and that they had, though the way was longer, and the outer world strode by them as they dreamed. I was aroused from my reflections by hearing some one ahead of me calling, Heah -heah-whoo-oop, heah Turning the curve in the road, I saw just before me a negro standing, with a hoe and a watering-pot in his hand. He had evidently just gotten over the worm-fence into the road, out of the path which led zigzag across the old field and was lost to sight in the dense growth of sassafras. When I rode up, he was looking anxiously back down this path for his dog. So engrossed was he that he did not even hear my horse, and I reined in to wait until he should turn around and satisfy my curiosity as to the handsome old place half a mile off from the road. The numerous out-buildings and the large barns and stables told that it had once been the seat of wealth, and the wild waste of sassafras that covered the broad fields gave it an air of desolation that greatly excited my interest. Entirely oblivious of my proximity, the negro went on calling Whoo-oop, heah until along the path, walking very slowly and with great dignity, appeared a noble-looking old orange and white setter, gray with age, and corpulent with excessive feeding. As soon as he came in sight, his master began Yes, dat you You gittin deaf as well as bline, I spose Kyarnt heah me callin, I reckon Whynt yo come on, dawg The setter sauntered slowly up to the fence and stopped, without even deigning a look at the speaker, who immediately proceeded to take the rails down, talking meanwhile Now, I got to pull down de gap, I spose Yo S so spilt yo kyahn hardly walk. Jes ez able to git over it as I is Jes like white folks-think cuz yous white and 1 s black, I got to wait on yo all de time. Nem mine, I ain gwi do it The fence having been pulled down sufficiently low to suit his dogship, he marched sedately through, and, with a hardly perceptible lateral movement of his tail, walked on down the road. Putting up the rails carefully, the negro turned and saw me...