Robert Burton, popularly called Bob, was the only son of the ex-merchant. He thoroughly enjoyed the removal to the country, having a taste for manly sports. He usually spent a part of the day in study, reciting to a clergyman in the village, and the rest of his time he employed in hunting, fishing, and farm work. Clip, the young refugee, was his chosen companion, and was sincerely attached to Massa Bob, as he generally called him. The negro lad was full of fun and innocent mischief, but had no malice about him. Bob tried to teach him to read, but Clip was no scholar. He complained that study made his head ache.
"But you ought to know something, Clip," expostulated Bob. "You don't want to grow up an ignoramus."
"What's dat?" asked Clip, bewildered. "Never heard such a long word. Is it anything very bad?"
"It means a know-nothing, Clip."
"I guess you're right, Massa Bob. Dat's what I am."
"But don't it trouble you, Clip?"
"No, Massa Bob; I guess I was never cut out for a scholar."
Still Bob persevered in his effort to teach Clip.
One day, after an unsuccessful attempt to get him to understand the difference between capital B and R, he said: "Clip, I don't believe you have got any sense."
"Spec's I haven't, Massa Bob," answered Clip, philosophically. "How many have you got?"