Adaptability to business is not eiclusively confined to the Anglo-Saxon race, as the Hametic persuasión ' ionally exhibit a marked f orce of character in that direction really worthy of being noted ; and the following incident, says a Florida correspondent, proves concluaively thai a great deal of business tact is sometimes to be found lying round loóse even in this settlement: Some few days siuce one of our contractors liad occasion to tear down an old brick wall and remove the material elsewhere. He agreed with an old darkey to do the job for fifteen dollars, the job to be paid as soon as completed. Tlie sub-contractor, fllled with the importance of his position, at once engaged the services of fifteen other negroes, areeing to pay them at the rate of one dollar per day for their services. But. as the work approached completion, the idea suddenly entered Uncle Jake's head that he was not making any great profit out of the contract. This would not begin to do;.so, calling in the aid of his white friend who kept a small grocery hard by, he submitted his case, and was advised to settle with his hands pro rata the best he could. It was a sight not readily f orgotten. Seated upon a nail keg, Uncle Jake, after clearing his throat to attract attention, began by the assertion: "I 'frauds no man. Now I wants all you colored gen'lemen to un'stan' dat I loses on dis contrack. I don't see my way to nuffin 'tall. I wants ebery mau to hab suffin, 'cause dat's right ; but, see yere, dis yere money ain't gwine to hole out ; ciar it ain't ; an' I don't want no grum'lin' nor fuss kicked up wid me ; you hear dat ? How much I owes you, Lemuel ?" "Dollar 'n 'arf. You knows dat well as I do. Didn't I wórk for a day 'n 'arf ?" "Y-e-a-s. Well, you take a dollar an' say no more about it ; de money aiu't gwine to hole out, I tells you. I wants ebery man to get a shar', an' dat's all you gets any way. Say, you Dan what I owes you ?" "You owes me a dollar, Uncle Jake. I done worked a day. " "Dat's what I thought. Here is haff dollar and a dime to get you a drink of whiskey wid," "But I want my dollar." "Conrse you does;; but I 'frauds no man. Dis yer money has got to go round somehow, you hear me ? Now I don't want any of your foolin' round here. Jim!" "Here I is," "O, you's dar, is yer ? How much owes yer, Jim ?" "Dollar 'n quarter." "Mighty tight times for money, Jim - nebber seo such times afore. Here, take dis yer sebbenty-five cents, and thank de Lord 'tis no worse." "Look heah, Uncle Jake, don't yer come none o' dat on me, kase I ain't gwine to put up wid it." "Now, don't you go makin' a fuss heah, mind I tole you. De money ain't gwine to hole out, I drrie tole you all dat. I 'frauds no man. Every man spects to get a little, and how you tink dey'll get it, an' you makin' a fuss like dis ? I done heerd enough. Joe !" "Now 'fore you begins to talk, ole man, don't you fooi wid me ; I done my work, an' now I wants de sperzerinctums. Butterberdam ef I takes any nonsense. Hand ober dat money - dat's wot you's got ter do." "How mnch I owes you, Joe?" "You owes me sebbenty-five cents,and I want's it right away. And besides I done lost my hatchet, so I don't make nuffin, any way." "You done lost you hatchet?" "Dat's what I tole you. " "Sorry 'bout dat, responded Uncle Jake, "kase I allus 'dopted a rule, when a man lost any ob his tools, he's got to be docked tül dey're fotched back. Here, take dis quarter an' trabble." "But de hatchet was mine, you ole fooi. You understand dat!" "Don't know nuffm about it ; you no business ter lose der hatchet. I 'frauds no man ; when you fotches dat hatchet back den I talks more wid you 'bout it. But I nebber 'lows any man to loss de tools - dat ain't business. " "See here, man, you's a fraud - you's worse dan de Freedman's Bank. Hand ober dat money !" "O, g'long, chillin- I tole you dis yer's a losin' job, any way. How you 'speet I makes anything by the operation? De money has got to go round somehow - ebery man gets a little and no man goes off widout gettin' sumfln. I 'frauda no man, an I don t want no grumblin', kase ef yon grumbles you gets nuffin. Dis yer money is got to go round somehow." The oíd repróbate certainly gave anything but satisfaction to his employees, all of whorn went off highly indignan t, but unable to help themselves in any way. It is barely possible that a similar mode of doing business might occasionally be found elsewhere, and not among the darkeys, either. ,Tonx Ê'vümÓTjPH of Eoanolte employfed an excellent man named Clopton to pïeaóh tu his negroes in a chapel on his plantiitiou. One cold Sunday morning while Olopton was giving out his hymn, two liúes at a time, he observed a negro witfa a new brogan on the red hot stove. ïurnins: to him he said in measured voioe, "You rascal you, you'll burnyour shoe." As this rhyme was in the exact metre of the hymn, the negroes chimed in and sang it. The preacher smiled mul mildly explained, "My colored friends, MuiiKid you're wrong ; I didn't intend that forthe song." Thisalsobeing in good mensure, the negroes sang it in pions fervor. Turning quickly to iiis congresation, he said sharply, "I hope you will not sing again uutü I have time to explain ;" but this only aroused them to repeat his last words with increiiacil vipor. ]Tr. Clopton, flndinghis tonque yas turnf.d to rhime, then abanil'Micil explanation and went on witli the otliur services.