Uncle Remus

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One evening recently, the lady whom Uncle Remus calls «Miss

Sally» missed her little seven-year-old. Making search for him

through the house and through the yard, she heard the sound of

voices in the old man’s cabin, and, looking through the window,

saw the child sitting by Uncle Remus. His head rested against the

old man’s arm, and he was gazing with an expression of the most

intense interest into the rough, weather-beaten face, that beamed

so kindly upon him. This is what «Miss Sally» heard:

«Bimeby, one day, atter Brer Fox bin doin’ all dat he could fer

ter ketch Brer Rabbit, en Brer Rabbit bein doin’ all he could fer

ter keep ’im fum it, Brer Fox say to hisse’f dat he’d put up a

game on Brer Rabbit, en he ain’t mo’n got de wuds out’n his mouf

twel Brer Rabbit came a lopin’ up de big road, lookin’ des ez

plump, en ez fat, en ez sassy ez a Moggin hoss in a barley-patch.

««Hol’ on dar, Brer Rabbit,» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««I ain’t got time, Brer Fox,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, sorter

mendin’ his licks.

««I wanter have some confab wid you, Brer Rabbit,» sez Brer Fox,


««All right, Brer Fox, but you better holler fum whar you stan’.

I’m monstus full er fleas dis mawnin’,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««I seed Brer B’ar yistdiddy, ’sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’en he sorter

rake me over de coals kaze you en me ain’t make frens en live

naberly, en I tole ’im dat I’d see you.»

«Den Brer Rabbit scratch one year wid his off hinefoot sorter

jub’usly, en den he ups en sez, sezee:

««All a settin’, Brer Fox. Spose’n you drap roun’ ter-morrer en

take dinner wid me. We ain’t got no great doin’s at our house,

but I speck de ole ’oman en de chilluns kin sorter scramble roun’

en git up sump’n fer ter stay yo’ stummick.»

««I’m ’gree’ble, Brer Rabbit,» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««Den I’ll ’pen’ on you,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

«Nex’ day, Mr. Rabbit an’ Miss Rabbit got up soom, ’fo’ day, en

raided on a gyarden like Miss Sally’s out dar, en got some

cabbiges, en some roas’n — years, en some sparrer-grass, en dey

fix up a smashin’ dinner. Bimeby one er de little Rabbits,

playin’ out in de back-yard, come runnin’ in hollerin’, «Oh, ma!

oh, ma! I seed Mr. Fox a comin’!» En den Brer Rabbit he tuck de

chilluns by der years en make um set down, en den him and Miss

Rabbit sorter dally roun’ waitin’ for Brer Fox. En dey keep on

waitin’ for Brer Fox. En dey keep on waitin’, but no Brer Fox

ain’t come. Atter ’while Brer Rabbit goes to de do’, easy like,

en peep out, en dar, stickin’ fum behime de cornder, wuz de

tip-een’ er Brer Fox tail. Den Brer Rabbit shot de do’ en sot

down, en put his paws behime his years en begin fer ter sing:

««De place wharbouts you spill de grease,

Right dar you er boun’ ter slide,

An’ whar you fin’ a bunch er ha’r,

You’ll sholy fine de hide.»

«Nex’ day, Brer Fox sont word by Mr. Mink, en skuze hisse’f kaze

he wuz too sick fer ter come, en he ax Brer Rabbit fer ter come

en take dinner wid him, en Brer Rabbit say he wuz ’gree’ble.

«Bimeby, w’en de shadders wuz at der shortes’, Brer Rabbit he

sorter brush up en sa’nter down ter Brer Fox’s house, en w’en he

got dar, he hear somebody groanin’, en he look in de do’ an dar

he see Brer Fox settin’ up in a rockin’-cheer all wrop up wid

flannil, en he look mighty weak. Brer Rabbit look all roun’, he

did, but he ain’t see no dinner. De dish-pan wuz settin’ on de

table, en close by wuz a kyarvin’ knife.

««Look like you gwineter have chicken fer dinner, Brer Fox,» sez

Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««Yes, Brer Rabbit, dey er nice, en fresh, en tender, ’sez Brer

Fox, sezee.

«Den Brer Rabbit sorter pull his mustarsh, en say: «You ain’t got

no calamus root, is you, Brer Fox? I done got so now dat I can’t

eat no chicken ’ceppin she’s seasoned up wid calamus root.»

En wid dat Brer Rabbit lipt out er de do’ and dodge ’mong the

bushes, en sot dar watchin’ for Brer Fox; en he ain’t watch long,

nudder, kaze Brer Fox flung off de flannil en crope out er de

house en got whar he could cloze in on Brer Rabbit, en bimeby

Brer Rabbit holler out: «Oh, Brer Fox! I’ll des put yo’ calamus

root out yer on dish yer stump. Better come git it while hit’s

fresh,» and wid dat Brer Rabbit gallop off home. En Brer Fox

ain’t never kotch ’im yit, en w’at’s mo’, honey, he ain’t



«Didn’t the fox never catch the rabbit, Uncle Remus?» asked the

little boy the next evening.

«He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho’s you born — Brer Fox did. One

day atter Brer Rabbit fool ’im wid dat calamus root, Brer Fox

went ter wuk en got ’im some tar, en mix it wid some turkentime,

en fix up a contrapshun w’at he call a Tar-Baby, en he tuck dish

yer Tar-Baby en he sot ’er in de big road, en den he lay off in

de bushes fer to see what de news wuz gwine ter be. En he didn’t

hatter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby here come Brer Rabbit

pacin’ down de road — lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity — dez ez

sassy ez a jay-bird. Brer Fox, he lay low. Brer Rabbit come

prancin’ ’long twel he spy de Tar-Baby, en den he fotch up on his

behime legs like he wuz ’stonished. De Tar Baby, she sot dar, she

did, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

«„Mawnin’!“ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee — ’nice wedder dis mawnin’,»


«Tar-Baby ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, en Brer Fox he lay low.

««How duz yo’ sym’tums seem ter segashuate?» sez Brer Rabbit,


«Brer Fox, he wink his eye slow, en lay low, en de Tar-Baby, she

ain’t sayin’ nuthin’.

««How you come on, den? Is you deaf?» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

«Kaze if you is, I kin holler louder,» sezee.

«Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

««You er stuck up, dat’s w’at you is,» says Brer Rabbit, sezee,

’en I’m gwine ter kyore you, dat’s w’at I’m a gwine ter do,»


«Brer Fox, he sorter chuckle in his stummick, he did, but Tar-

Baby ain’t sayin’ nothin’.

««I’m gwine ter larn you how ter talk ter ’spectubble folks ef

hit’s de las’ ack,“ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. „Ef you don’t take

off dat hat en tell me howdy, I’m gwine ter bus’ you wide open,»


«Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

«Brer Rabbit keep on axin’ ’im, en de Tar-Baby, she keep on

sayin’ nothin’, twel present’y Brer Rabbit draw back wid his

fis’, he did, en blip he tuck ’er side er de head. Right dar’s

whar he broke his merlasses jug. His fis’ stuck, en he can’t pull

loose. De tar hilt ’im. But Tar-Baby, she stay still, en Brer

Fox, he lay low.

««Ef you don’t lemme loose, I’ll knock you agin,» sez Brer

Rabbit, sezee, en wid dat he fotch ’er a wipe wid de udder han’,

en dat stuck. Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, en Brer Fox, he

lay low.

««Tu’n me loose, fo’ I kick de natchul stuffin’ outen you,» sez

Brer Rabbit, sezee, but de Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’.

She des hilt on, en de Brer Rabbit lose de use er his feet in de

same way. Brer Fox, he lay low. Den Brer Rabbit squall out dat ef

de Tar-Baby don’t tu’n ’im loose he butt ’er cranksided. En den

he butted, en his head got stuck. Den Brer Fox, he sa’ntered

fort’, lookin’ dez ez innercent ez wunner yo’ mammy’s mockin’-


«Howdy, Brer Rabbit,» sez Brer Fox, sezee. «You look sorter stuck

up dis mawnin’,» sezee, en den he rolled on de groun’, en laft en

laft twel he couldn’t laff no mo’. «I speck you’ll take dinner

wid me dis time, Brer Rabbit. I done laid in some calamus root,

en I ain’t gwineter take no skuse,» sez Brer Fox, sezee.»

Here Uncle Remus paused, and drew a two-pound yam out of the


«Did the fox eat the rabbit?» asked the little boy to whom the

story had been told.

«Dat’s all de fur de tale goes,» replied the old man. «He mout,

an den agin he moutent. Some say Judge B’ar come ’long en loosed

’im — some say he didn’t. I hear Miss Sally callin’. You better

run ’long.»


«ONE night,» said Uncle Remus — taking Miss Sally’s little boy on

his knee, and stroking the child’s hair thoughtfully and

caressingly — «one night Brer Possum call by fer Brer Coon,

’cordin’ ter ’greement, en atter gobblin’ up a dish er fried

greens en smokin’ a seegyar, dey rambled fort’ fer ter see how de

ballance er de settlement wuz gittin’ long. Brer Coon, he wuz one

er deze yer natchul pacers, en he racked ’long same ez Mars

John’s bay pony, en Brer Possum he went in a han’-gallup; en dey

got over heap er groun, mon. Brer Possum, he got his belly full

er ’simmons, en Brer Coon, he scoop up a ’bunnunce er frogs en

tadpoles. Dey amble long, dey did, des ez sociable ez a basket er

kittens, twel bimeby dey hear Mr. Dog talkin’ ter hisse’f way off

in de woods.

««Spozen he runs up on us, Brer Possum, w’at you gwineter do?»

sez Brer Coon, sezee. Brer Possum sorter laugh ’round de cornders

un his mouf.

««Oh, ef he come, Brer Coon, I’m gwineter stan’ by you,» sez Brer

Possum. «W’at you gwineter do?» sezee.

««Who? me?» sez Brer Coon. «Ef he run up onter me, I lay I give

’im one twis’,» sezee.»

«Did the dog come?» asked the little boy.

«Go ’way, honey!» responded the old man, in an impressive tone.

«Go way! Mr. Dog, he come en he come a zoonin’. En he ain’t wait

fer ter say howdy, nudder. He des sail inter de two un um. De

ve’y fus pas he make Brer Possum fetch a grin fum year ter year,

en keel over like he wuz dead. Den Mr. Dog, he sail inter Brer

Coon, en right dar’s whar he drap his money purse, kaze Brer Coon

wuz cut out fer dat kinder bizness, en he fa’rly wipe up de face

er de yeth wid ’im. You better b’leeve dat w’en Mr. Dog got a

chance to make hisse’f skase he tuck it, en w’at der wuz lef’ un

him went skaddlin’ thoo de woods like hit wuz shot outen a

muskit. En Brer Coon, he sorter lick his cloze inter shape en

rack off, en Brer Possum, he lay dar like he wuz dead, twel

bimeby he raise up sorter keerful like, en w’en he fine de coas’

cle’r he scramble up en scamper off like sumpin’ was atter ’im.»

Here Uncle Remus paused long enough to pick up a live coal of

fire in his fingers, transfer it to the palm of his hand, and

thence to his clay pipe, which he had been filling — a proceeding

that was viewed by the little boy with undisguised admiration.

The old man then proceeded:

«Nex’ time Brer Possum met Brer Coon, Brer Coon ’fuse ter ’spon’

ter his howdy, en dis make Brer Possum feel mighty bad, seein’ ez

how dey useter make so many ’scurshuns tergedder.

««W’at make you hol’ yo’ head so high, Brer Coon?» sez Brer

Possum, sezee.

««I ain’t runnin’ wid cowerds deze days,» sez Brer Coon. «W’en I

wants you I’ll sen’ fer you,» sezee.

«Den Brer Possum git mighty mad.

««Who’s enny cowerd?» sezee.

««You is,» sez Brer Coon, ’dat’s who. I ain’t soshatin’ wid dem

w’at lays down on de groun’ en plays dead w’en dar’s a free fight

gwine on,» sezee.

«Den Brer Possum grin en laugh fit to kill hisse’f. ««Lor’, Brer

Coon, you don’t speck I done dat kaze I wuz ’feared, duz you?»

sezee. «W’y I want no mo ’feared dan you is dis minnit. W’at wuz

dey fer ter be skeered un?“ sezee. „I know’d you’d git away wid

Mr. Dog ef I didn’t, en I des lay dar watchin’ you shake him,

waitin’ fer ter put in w’en de time come,» sezee.

«Brer Coon tu’n up his nose.

««Dat’s a mighty likely tale,» sezee, ’w’en Mr. Dog ain’t mo’n

tech you ’fo’ you keel over, en lay dar stiff,» sezee.

««Dat’s des w’at I wuz gwineter tell you ’bout; sez Brer Possum,

sezee. «I want no mo’ skeer’d dan you is right now, en’ I wuz

fixin’ fer ter give Mr. Dog a sample er my jaw,» sezee, ’but I’m

de most ticklish chap w’at you ever laid eyes on, en no sooner

did Mr. Dog put his nose down yer ’mong my ribs dan I got ter

laughin’, en I laughed twel I ain’t had no use er my lim’s,»

sezee, ’en it’s a mussy unto Mr. Dog dat I wuz ticklish, kaze a

little mo’ en I’d e’t ’im up,“ sezee. „I don’t mine fightin’,

Brer Coon, no mo’ dan you duz,» sezee, ’but I declar’ ter grashus

ef I kin stan’ ticklin’. Git me in a row whar dey ain’t no

ticklin’ ’lowed, en I’m your man, sezee.

«En down ter dis day» — continued Uncle Remus, watching the

smoke from his pipe curl upward over the little boy’s head — «down

ter dis day, Brer Possum’s bound ter s’render w’en you tech him

in de short ribs, en he’ll laugh ef he knows he’s gwineter be

smashed fer it.»


«UNCLE REMUS,» said the little boy one evening, when he had

found the old man with little or nothing to do, «did the fox kill

and eat the rabbit when he caught him with the Tar-Baby?»

«Law, honey, ain’t I tell you ’bout dat?» replied the old darkey,

chuckling slyly. «I ’clar ter grashus I ought er tole you dat,

but old man Nod wuz ridin’ on my eyeleds ’twel a leetle mo’n I’d

a dis’member’d my own name, en den on to dat here come yo mammy

hollerin’ atter you.

«W’at I tell you w’en I fus’ begin? I tole you Brer Rabbit wuz a

monstus soon creetur; leas’ways dat’s w’at I laid out fer ter

tell you. Well, den, honey, don’t you go en make no udder

calkalashuns, kaze in dem days Brer Rabbit en his fambly wuz at

de head er de gang w’en enny racket wuz on han’, en dar dey

stayed. «Fo’ you begins fer ter wipe yo’ eyes ’bout Brer Rabbit,

you wait en see whar’bouts Brer Rabbit gwineter fetch up at. But

dat’s needer yer ner dar.

«W’en Brer Fox fine Brer Rabbit mixt up wid de Tar-Baby, he feel

mighty good, en he roll on de groun’ en laff. Bimeby he up’n say,


««Well, I speck I got you dis time, Brer Rabbit, sezee; ’maybe I

ain’t, but I speck I is. You been runnin’ roun’ here sassin’

atter me a mighty long time, but I speck you done come ter de

een’ er de row. You bin cuttin’ up yo’ capers en bouncin’’roun’

in dis neighberhood ontwel you come ter b’leeve yo’se’f de boss

er de whole gang. En den you er allers somers whar you got no

bizness,“ sez Brer Fox, sezee. „Who ax you fer ter come en strike

up a ’quaintance wid dish yer Tar-Baby? En who stuck you up dar

whar you iz? Nobody in de roun’ worl’. You des tuck en jam

yo’se’f on dat Tar-Baby widout waitin’ fer enny invite,» sez Brer

Fox, sezee, en dar you is, en dar you’ll stay twel I fixes up a

bresh-pile and fires her up, kaze I’m gwineter bobby-cue you dis

day, sho,» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

«Den Brer Rabbit talk mighty ’umble.

««I don’t keer w’at you do wid me, Brer Fox,» sezee, ’so you

don’t fling me in dat brier-patch. Roas’ me, Brer Fox’ sezee,

’but don’t fling me in dat brierpatch,» sezee.

««Hit’s so much trouble fer ter kindle a fier,» sez Brer Fox,

sezee, ’dat I speck I’ll hatter hang you,» sezee.

««Hang me des ez high as you please, Brer Fox,» sez Brer Rabbit,

sezee, ’but do fer de Lord’s sake don’t fling me in dat brier-

patch,» sezee.

««I ain’t got no string,» sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’en now I speck

I’ll hatter drown you,» sezee.

««Drown me des ez deep ez you please, Brer Fox,» sez Brer Rabbit,

sezee, ’but do don’t fling me in dat brier-patch,» sezee.

««Dey ain’t no water nigh,» sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’en now I speck

I’ll hatter skin you,» sezee.

««Skin me, Brer Fox,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’snatch out my

eyeballs, t’ar out my years by de roots, en cut off my legs,»

sezee, ’but do please, Brer Fox, don’t fling me in dat brier-

patch,» sezee.

«Co’se Brer Fox wanter hurt Brer Rabbit bad ez he kin, so he

cotch ’im by de behime legs en slung ’im right in de middle er de

brier-patch. Dar wuz a considerbul flutter whar Brer Rabbit

struck de bushes, en Brer Fox sorter hang ’roun’ fer ter see w’at

wuz gwineter happen. Bimeby he hear somebody call ’im, en way up

de hill he see Brer Rabbit settin’ crosslegged on a chinkapin log

koamin’ de pitch outen his har wid a chip. Den Brer Fox know dat

he bin swop off mighty bad. Brer Rabbit wuz bleedzed fer ter

fling back some er his sass, en he holler out:

««Bred en bawn in a brier-patch, Brer Fox — bred en bawn in a

brier-patch!» en wid dat he skip out des ez lively ez a cricket

in de embers.»


«ONE time,» said Uncle Remus — adjusting his spectacles so as to

be able to see how to thread a large darning-needle with which he

was patching his coat — «one time, way back yander, ’fo’ you wuz

bomed, honey, en ’fo’ Mars John er Miss Sally wuz bomed — way back

yander ’fo’ enny un us wuz bomed, de animils en de creeturs

sorter ’lecshuneer roun’ ’mong deyselves, twel at las’ dey ’greed

fer ter have a ’sembly. In dem days,» continued the old man,

observing a look of incredulity on the little boy’s face, «in dem

days creeturs had lots mo’ sense dan dey got now; let ’lone dat,

dey had sense same like folks. Hit was tech en go wid um, too,

mon, en w’en dey make up der mines w’at hatter be done, ’twant

mo’n menshun’d ’fo, hit wuz done. Well, dey ’lected dat dey

hatter hol’ er ’sembly fer ter sorter straighten out marters en

hear de complaints, en w’en de day come dey wuz on han’. De Lion,

he wuz dar, kase he wuz de king, en he hatter be der. De

Rhynossyhoss, he wuz dar, en de Elephant, he wuz dar, en de

Cammils, en de Cows, en plum’ down ter de Crawfishes, dey wuz

dar. Dey wuz all dar. En w’en de Lion shuck his mane, en tuck his

seat in de big cheer, den de sesshun begun fer ter commence.

«What did they do, Uncle Remus?» asked the little boy.

«I can’t skacely call to mine ’zackly w’at dey did do, but dey

spoke speeches, en hollered, en cusst, en flung der langwidge

’roun’ des like w’en yo’ daddy wuz gwineter run fer de legislater

en got lef’. Howsomever, dey ’ranged der ’fairs, en splained der

bizness. Bimeby, w’ile dey wuz ’sputin’ ’longer one er nudder, de

Elephant trompled on one er de Crawfishes. Co’se w’en dat creetur

put his foot down, w’atsumever’s under dar wuz boun’ fer ter be

squshed, en dey wa’n’t nuff er dat Crawfish lef’ fer ter tell dat

he’d bin dar.

«Dis make de udder Crawfishes mighty mad, en dey sorter swarmed

tergedder en draw’d up a kinder peramble wid some wharfo’es in

it, en read her out in de ’sembly. But, bless grashus! sech a

racket wuz a gwine on dat nobody ain’t hear it, ’ceppin’ maybe de

Mud Turkle en de Spring Lizzud, en dere enfloons wuz pow’ful


«Bimeby, w’iles de Nunicorn wuz ’sputin’ wid de Lion, en w’ile de

Hyener wuz a laughin’ ter hisse’f, de Elephant squshed anudder

one er de Crawfishes, en a little mo’n he’d er ruint de Mud

Turkle. Den de Crawfishes, w’at dey wuz lef’ un um, swarmed

tergedder en draw’d up anudder peramble wid sum mo’ wharfo’es;

but dey might ez well er sung Ole Dan Tucker ter a harrycane. De

udder creeturs wuz too busy wid der fussin’ fer ter ’spon’ unto

de Crawfishes. So dar dey wuz, de Crawfishes, en dey didn’t know

w’at minnit wuz gwineter be de nex’; en dey kep’ on gittin madder

en madder en skeerder en skeerder, twel bimeby dey gun de wink

ter de Mud Turkle en de Spring Lizzud, en den dey bo’d little

holes in de groun’ en went down outer sight.»

«Who did, Uncle Remus?» asked the little boy.

«De Crawfishes, honey. Dey bo’d inter de groun’ en kep’ on bo’in

twel dey onloost de fountains er de yeth; en de waters squirt

out, en riz higher en higher twel de hills wuz kivvered, en de

creeturs wuz all drownded; en all bekaze dey let on ’mong

deyselves dat dey wuz bigger dan de Crawfishes.»

Then the old man blew the ashes from a smoking yam, and

proceeded to remove the peeling.

«Where was the ark, Uncle Remus?» the little boy inquired,


«W’ich ark’s dat?» asked the old man, in a tone of well-feigned


«Noah’s ark,» replied the child.

«Don’t you pester wid ole man Noah, honey. I boun’ he tuck keer

er dat ark. Dat’s w’at he wuz dar fer, en dat’s w’at he done.

Leas’ways, dat’s w’at dey tells me. But don’t you bodder longer

dat ark, ’ceppin’ your mammy fetches it up. Dey mout er bin two

deloojes, en den agin dey moutent. Ef dey wuz enny ark in dish

yer w’at de Crawfishes brung on, I ain’t heern tell un it, en

w’en dey ain’t no arks ’roun’, I ain’t got no time fer ter make

um en put um in dar. Hit’s gittin’ yo’ bedtime, honey.»


ONE evening when the little boy, whose nights with Uncle Remus

were as entertaining as those Arabian ones of blessed memory, had finished supper and hurried out to sit with his venerable patron,

he found the old man in great glee. Indeed, Uncle Remus was

talking and laughing to himself at such a rate that the little

boy was afraid he had company. The truth is, Uncle Remus had

heard the child coming, and, when the rosy-cheeked chap put his

head in at the door, was engaged in a monologue, the burden of

which seemed to be —

«Ole Molly Har’,

W’at you doin’ dar,

Settin’ in de cornder

Smokin’ yo’ seegyar?»

As a matter of course this vague allusion reminded the little boy

of the fact that the wicked Fox was still in pursuit of the

Rabbit, and he immediately put his curiosity in the shape of a


«Uncle Remus, did the Rabbit have to go clean away when he got

loose from the Tar-Baby?»

«Bless gracious, honey, dat he didn’t. Who? Him? You dunno

nuthin’ ’tall ’bout Brer Rabbit ef dat’s de way you puttin’ ’im

down. W’at he gwine ’way fer? He moughter stayed sorter close

twel de pitch rub off’n his ha’r, but tweren’t menny days ’fo’ he

wuz lopin’ up en down de neighborhood same ez ever, en I dunno ef

he weren’t mo’ sassier dan befo’.

«Seem like dat de tale ’bout how he got mixt up wid de Tar-Baby

got ’roun’ ’mongst de nabers. Leas’ways, Miss Meadows en de gals

got win’ un’ it, en de nex’ time Brer Rabbit paid um a visit

Miss Meadows tackled ’im ’bout it, en de gals sot up a monstus

gigglement. Brer Rabbit, he sot up des ez cool ez a cowcumber, he

did, en let em run on.

«Who was Miss Meadows, Uncle Remus?» inquired the little boy.

«Don’t ax me, honey. She wuz in de tale, Miss Meadows en de gals

wuz, en de tale I give you like hi’t wer’ gun ter me. Brer

Rabbit, he sot dar, he did, sorter lam’ like, en den bimeby he

cross his legs, he did, and wink his eye slow, en up and say,


««Ladies, Brer Fox wuz my daddy’s ridin’-hoss fer thirty year;

maybe mo’, but thirty year dat I knows un,» sezee; en den he paid

um his ’specks, en tip his beaver, en march off, he did, des ez

stiff en ez stuck up ez a fire-stick.

«Nex’ day, Brer Fox cum a callin’, and w’en he gun fer ter laugh

’bout Brer Rabbit, Miss Meadows en de gals, dey ups en tells ’im

’bout w’at Brer Rabbit Say. Den Brer Fox grit his tushes sho’

nuff, he did, en he look mighty dumpy, but w’en he riz fer ter go

he up en say, sezee:

««Ladies, I ain’t ’sputin’ w’at you say, but I’ll make Brer

Rabbit chaw up his words en spit um out right yer whar you kin

see ’im,» sezee, en wid dat off Brer Fox put.

«En w’en he got in de big road, he shuck de dew off’n his tail,

en made a straight shoot fer Brer Rabbit’s house. W’en he got

dar, Brer Rabbit wuz spectin’ un ’im, en de do’ wuz shet fas’.

Brer Fox knock. Nobody ain’t ans’er. Brer Fox knock. Nobody

ans’er. Den he knock agin — blam! blam! Den Brer Rabbit holler out

mighty weak: «Is dat you, Brer Fox? I want you ter run en fetch

de doctor. Dat bait er pusly w’at I e’t dis mawnin’ is gittin’

’way wid me. Do, please, Brer Fox, run quick,» sez Brer Rabbit,


««I come atter you, Brer Rabbit,» sez Brer Fox, sezee. «Dar’s

gwineter be a party up at Miss Meadows’s,“ sezee. „All de gals

’ll be dere, en I prommus’ dat I’d fetch you. De gals, dey ’lowed

dat hit wouldn’t be no party ’ceppin’ I fotch you,» sez Brer Fox,


«Den Brer Rabbit say he wuz too sick, en Brer Fox say he wuzzent,

en dar dey had it up and down, ’sputin’ en contendin’. Brer

Rabbit say he can’t walk. Brer Fox say he tote ’im. Brer Rabbit

say how? Brer Fox say in his arms. Brer Rabbit say he drap ’im.

Brer Fox ’low he won’t. Bimeby Brer Rabbit say he go ef Brer Fox

tote ’im on his back. Brer Fox say he would. Brer Rabbit say he

can’t ride widout a saddle. Brer Fox say he git de saddle. Brer

Rabbit say he can’t set in saddle less he have bridle fer ter

hol’ by. Brer Fox say he git de bridle. Brer Rabbit say he can’t

ride widout bline bridle, kaze Brer Fox be shyin’ at stumps long

de road, en fling ’im off. Brer Fox say he git bline bridle. Den

Brer Rabbit say he go. Den Brer Fox say he ride Brer Rabbit mos’

up ter Miss Meadows’s, en den he could git down en walk de

balance er de way. Brer Rabbit ’greed, en den Brer Fox lipt out

atter de saddle en de bridle.

«Co’se Brer Rabbit know de game dat Brer Fox wuz fixin’ fer ter

play, en he ’termin’ fer ter outdo ’im, en by de time he koam his

ha’r en twis’ his mustarsh, en sorter rig up, yer come Brer Fox,

saddle en bridle on, en lookin’ ez peart ez a circus pony. He

trot up ter de do’ en stan’ dar pawin’ de ground en chompin’ de

bit same like sho ’nuff hoss, en Brer Rabbit he mount, he did, en

dey amble off. Brer Fox can’t see behime wid de bline bridle on,

but bimeby he feel Brer Rabbit raise one er his foots.

««W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?» sezee.

««Short’nin’ de lef stir’p, Brer Fox,» sezee.

«Bimeby Brer Rabbit raise up de udder foot.

««W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?» sezee.

««Pullin’ down my pants, Brer Fox,» sezee.

«All de time, bless grashus, honey, Brer Rabbit wer’ puttin’ on

his spurrers, en w’en dey got close to Miss Meadows’s, whar Brer

Rabbit wuz to git off, en Brer Fox made a motion fer ter stan’

still, Brer Rabbit slap de spurrers into Brer Fox flanks, en you

better b’leeve he got over groun’. W’en dey got ter de house,

Miss Meadows en all de gals wuz settin’ on de peazzer, en stidder

stoppin’ at de gate, Brer Rabbit rid on by, he did, en den come

gallopin’ down de road en up ter de hoss-rack, w’ich he hitch

Brer Fox at, en den he santer inter de house, he did, en shake

han’s wid de gals, en set dar, smokin’ his seegyar same ez a town

man. Bimeby he draw in a long puff, en den let hit out in a

cloud, en squar hisse’f back en holler out, he did:

««Ladies, ain’t I done tell you Brer Fox wuz de ridin’-hoss fer

our fambly? He sorter losin’ his gait now, but I speck I kin

fetch ’im all right in a mont’ er so,» sezee.

«En den Brer Rabbit sorter grin, he did, en de gals giggle, en

Miss Meadows, she praise up de pony, en dar wuz Brer Fox hitch

fas’ ter de rack, en couldn’t he’p hisse’f.»

«Is that all, Uncle Remus?» asked the little boy as the old man


«Dat ain’t all, honey, but ’twon’t do fer ter give out too

much cloff fer ter cut one pa’r pants,» replied the old man



WHEN «Miss Sally’s» little boy went to Uncle Remus the next

night to hear the conclusion of the adventure in which the Rabbit

made a riding-horse of the Fox to the great enjoyment and

gratification of Miss Meadows and the girls, he found the old man

in a bad humor.

«I ain’t tellin’ no tales ter bad chilluns,» said Uncle Remus


«But, Uncle Remus, I ain’t bad,» said the little boy plaintively.

«Who dat chunkin’ dem chickens dis mawnin? Who dat knockin’ out

fokes’s eyes wid dat Yallerbammer sling des ’fo’ dinner? Who dat

sickin’ dat pinter puppy atter my pig? Who dat scatterin’ my

ingun sets? Who dat flingin’ rocks on top er my house, w’ich a

little mo’ en one un em would er drap spang on my head?»

«Well, now, Uncle Remus, I didn’t go to do it. I won’t do so any

more. Please, Uncle Remus, if you will tell me, I’ll run to the

house and bring you some tea-cakes.»

«Seein’ um’s better’n hearin’ tell un um, replied the old man,

the severity of his countenance relaxing somewhat; but the little

boy darted out, and in a few minutes came running back with his

pockets full and his hands full.

«I lay yo’ mammy ’ll ’spishun dat de rats’ stummicks is widenin’

in dis neighborhood w’en she come fer ter count up ’er cakes,»

said Uncle Remus, with a chuckle. «Deze,» he continued, dividing

the cakes into two equal parts — «dese I’ll tackle now, en dese

I’ll lay by fer Sunday.

«Lemme see. I mos’ dis’member wharbouts Brer Fox en Brer Rabbit


«The rabbit rode the fox to Miss Meadows’s, and hitched him to

the horse-rack,» said the little boy.

«W’y co’se he did,» said Uncle Remus. «C’ose he did. Well, Brer

Rabbit rid Brer Fox up, he did, en tied ’im to de rack, en den

sot out in de peazzer wid de gals a smokin’ er his seegyar wid

mo’ proudness dan w’at you mos’ ever see. Dey talk, en dey sing,

en dey play on de peanner, de gals did, twel bimeby hit come time

fer Brer Rabbit fer to be gwine, en he tell um all good-by, en

strut out to de hoss-rack same’s ef he wuz de king er de patter-

rollers,*1 en den he mount Brer Fox en ride off.

«Brer Fox ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ ’tall. He des rack off, he did, en

keep his mouf shet, en Brer Rabbit know’d der wuz bizness cookin’

up fer him, en he feel monstus skittish. Brer Fox amble on twel

he git in de long lane, outer sight er Miss Meadows’s house, en

den he tu’n loose, he did. He rip en he ra’r, en he cuss, en he

swar; he snort en he cavort.»

«What was he doing that for, Uncle Remus?» the little boy


«He wuz tryin’ fer ter fling Brer Rabbit off’n his back, bless

yo’ soul! But he des might ez well er rastle wid his own shadder.

Every time he hump hisse’f Brer Rabbit slap de spurrers in ’im,

en dar dey had it, up en down. Brer Fox fa’rly to’ up de groun’

he did, en he jump so high en he jump so quick dat he mighty nigh

snatch his own tail off. Dey kep’ on gwine on dis way twel bimeby

Brer Fox lay down en roll over, he did, en dis sorter onsettle

Brer Rabbit, but by de time Brer Fox got back on his footses

agin, Brer Rabbit wuz gwine thoo de underbresh mo’ samer dan a

race-hoss. Brer Fox he lit out atter ’im, he did, en he push Brer

Rabbit so close dat it wuz ’bout all he could do fer ter git in a

holler tree. Hole too little fer Brer Fox fer ter git in, en he

hatter lay down en res en gedder his mine tergedder.

«While he wuz layin’ dar, Mr. Buzzard come floppin’ ’long, en

seein’ Brer Fox stretch out on de groun’, he lit en view de

premusses. Den Mr. Buzzard sorter shake his wing, en put his head

on one side, en say to hisse’f like, sezee:

««Brer Fox dead, en I so sorry,» sezee.

««No I ain’t dead, nudder,» sez Brer Fox, sezee. «I got ole man

Rabbit pent up in yer,» sezee, ’en I’m a gwine ter git ’im dis

time ef it take twel Chris’mus,» sezee.

«Den, atter some mo’ palaver, Brer Fox make a bargain dat Mr.

Buzzard wuz ter watch de hole, en keep Brer Rabbit dar wiles Brer

Fox went atter his axe. Den Brer Fox, he lope off, he did, en Mr.

Buzzard, he tuck up his stan’ at de hole. Bimeby, w’en all git

still, Brer Rabbit sorter scramble down close ter de hole, he

did, en holler out:

««Brer Fox! Oh! Brer Fox!»

«Brer Fox done gone, en nobody say nuthin’. Den Brer Rabbit

squall out like he wuz mad; sezee:

««You needn’t talk less you wanter,» sezee; «I knows you er dar,

en I ain’t keerin’,“ sezee. „I des wanter tell you dat I wish

mighty bad Brer Tukkey Buzzard wuz here,» sezee.

«Den Mr. Buzzard try ter talk like Brer Fox:

««W’at you want wid Mr. Buzzard?» sezee.

««Oh, nuthin’ in ’tickler, ’cep’ dere’s de fattes’ gray squir’l

in yer dat ever I see,» sezee, ’en ef Brer Tukkey Buzzard wuz

’roun’ he’d be mighty glad fer ter git ’im,» sezee.

««How Mr. Buzzard gwine ter git ’im?» sez de Buzzard, sezee.

««Well, dar’s a little hole roun’ on de udder side er de tree,»

sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’en ef Brer Tukkey Buzzard wuz here so he

could take up his stan’ dar,» sezee, «I’d drive dat squir’l out,»


««Drive ’im out, den,» sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee, ’en I’ll see dat

Brer Tukkey Buzzard gits ’im,» sezee.

«Den Brer Rabbit kick up a racket, like he wer’ drivin’ sumpin’

out, en Mr. Buzzard he rush ’roun’ fer ter ketch de squir’l, en

Brer Rabbit, he dash out, he did, en he des fly fer home.»

At this point Uncle Remus took one of the teacakes, held his head

back, opened his mouth, dropped the cake in with a sudden motion,

looked at the little boy with an expression of astonishment,

and then closed his eyes, and begun to chew, mumbling as an

accompaniment the plaintive tune of «Don’t you Grieve atter Me.»

The seance was over; but, before the little boy went into the

«big house,» Uncle Remus laid his rough hand tenderly on the

child’s shoulder, and remarked, in a confidential tone:

«Honey, you mus’ git up soon Chris’mus mawnin’ en open de do’;

kase I’m gwineter bounce in on Marse John en Miss Sally, en

holler «Chris’mus gif’' des like I useter endurin’ de farmin’

days fo’ de war, w’en ole Miss wuz ’live. I bound’ dey don’t

fergit de ole nigger, nudder. W’en you hear me callin’ de pigs,

honey, you des hop up en onfassen de do’. I lay I’ll give Marse

John one er dese yer ’sprize parties.»

*1 Patrols. In the country districts, order was kept on the

plantations at night by the knowledge that they were liable

to be visited at any moment by the patrols. Hence a song

current among the negroes, the chorus of which was:

«Run, nigger, run; patter-roller ketch you —

Run, nigger, run; hit’s almos’ day.»


«EF I don’t run inter no mistakes,» remarked Uncle Remus, as the

little boy came tripping in to see him after supper, «Mr. Tukkey

Buzzard wuz gyardin’ de holler whar Brer Rabbit went in at, en

w’ich he come out un.»

The silence of the little boy verified the old man’s


«Well, Mr. Buzzard, he feel mighty lonesome, he did, but he done

prommust Brer Fox dat he’d stay, en he ’termin’ fer ter sorter

hang ’roun’ en jine in de joke. En he ain’t hatter wait long,

nudder, kase bimeby yer come Brer Fox gallopin’ thoo de woods wid

his axe on his shoulder.

««How you speck Brer Rabbit gittin’ on, Brer Buzzard?» sez Brer

Fox, sezee.

««Oh, he in dar,» sez Brer Buzzard, sezee. «He mighty still,

dough. I speck he takin’ a nap,» sezee.

««Den I’m des in time fer ter wake im up, sez Brer Fox, sezee. En

wid dat he fling off his coat, en spit in his han’s, en grab de

axe. Den he draw back en come down on de tree — pow! En eve’y time

he come down wid de axe — pow! — Mr. Buzzard, he step high, he did,

en holler out:

««Oh, he in dar, Brer Fox. He in dar, sho.»

«En eve’y time a chip ud fly off, Mr. Buzzard, he’d jump, en

dodge, en hol’ his head sideways, he would, en holler:

««He in dar, Brer Fox. I done heerd ’im. He in dar, sho.»

«En Brer Fox, he lammed away at dat holler tree, he did, like a

man maulin’ rails, twel bimeby, atter he done got de tree mos’

cut thoo, he stop fer ter ketch his bref, en he seed Mr. Buzzard

laughin’ behime his back, he did, en right den en dar, widout

gwine enny fudder, Brer Fox, he smelt a rat. But Mr. Buzzard, he

keep on holler’n:

««He in dar, Brer Fox. He in dar, sho. I done seed ’im.»

«Den Brer Fox, he make like he peepin’ up de holler, en he say,


««Run yer, Brer Buzzard, en look ef dis ain’t Brer Rabbit’s foot

hanging down yer.»

«En Mr. Buzzard, he come steppin’ up, he did, same ez ef he wer

treddin’ on kurkle-burs, en he stick his head in de hole; en no

sooner did he done dat dan Brer Fox grab ’im. Mr. Buzzard flap

his wings, en scramble ’roun’ right smartually, he did, but

’twant no use. Brer Fox had de ’vantage er de grip, he did, en he

hilt ’im right down ter de groun’. Den Mr. Buzzard squall out,


««Lemme ’lone, Brer Fox. Tu’n me loose,» sezee; «Brer Rabbit ’ll

git out. You er gittin’ close at ’im,» sezee, ’en leb’m mo’

licks’ll fetch ’im,» sezee.

««I’m nigher ter you, Brer Buzzard,» sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’dan

I’ll be ter Brer Rabbit dis day,» sezee. «W’at you fool me fer?»


««Lemme lone, Brer Fox,» sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee; my ole ’oman

waitin’ fer me. Brer Rabbit in dar,» sezee.

««Dar’s a bunch er his fur on dat black-be’y bush,» sez Brer Fox,

sezee, ’en dat ain’t de way he come,» sezee.

«Den Mr. Buzzard up’n tell Brer Fox how ’twuz, en he ’low’d, Mr.

Buzzard did, dat Brer Rabbit wuz de lowdownest w’atsizname w’at

he ever run up wid. Den Brer Fox say, sezee:

««Dat’s needer here ner dar, Brer Buzzard,» sezee. «I lef’ you

yer fer ter watch dish yere hole, en I lef’ Brer Rabbit in dar. I

comes back en I fines you at de ’ole en Brer Rabbit ain’t in

dar,“ sezee. „I’m gwineter make you pay fer’t. I done bin

tampered wid twel plum’ down ter de sap sucker’ll set on a log en

sassy me. I’m gwineter fling you in a bresh-heap en burn you up,»


««Ef you fling me on der fier, Brer Fox, I’ll fly ’way,» sez Mr.

Buzzard, sezee.

««Well, den, I’ll settle yo’ hash right now,» sez Brer Fox,

sezee, en wid dat he grab Mr. Buzzard by de tail, he did, en make

fer ter dash ’im ’gin de groun’, but des ’bout dat time de tail

fedders come out, en Mr. Buzzard sail off like one er dese yer

berloons; en ez he riz, he holler back:

««You gimme good start, Brer Fox,» sezee, en Brer Fox sot dar en

watch ’im fly outer sight.»

«But what became of the Rabbit, Uncle Remus?» asked the little


«Don’t you pester longer Brer Rabbit, honey, en don’t you fret

’bout ’im. You’ll year whar he went en how he come out. Dish yer

col’ snap rastles wid my bones, now,» continued the old man,

putting on his hat and picking up his walking-stick. «Hit rastles

wid me monstus, en I gotter rack ’roun’ en see if I kin run up

agin some Chris’mus leavin’s.»


«UNCLE REMUS,» said the little boy, «what became of the Rabbit

after he fooled the Buzzard, and got out of the hollow tree?»

«Who? Brer Rabbit? Bless yo’ soul, honey, Brer Rabbit went

skippin’ long home, he did, des ez sassy ez a jay-bird at a

sparrer’s nes’. He went gallopin’ ’long, he did, but he feel

mighty fired out, en stiff in his jints, en he wuz mighty nigh

dead for sumpin fer ter drink, en bimeby, w’en he got mos’ home,

he spied ole Miss Cow feedin’ roun’ in a fiel’, he did, en he

’termin’ fer ter try his han’ wid ’er. Brer Rabbit know mighty

well dat Miss Cow won’t give ’im no milk, kaze she done ’fuse ’im

mo’n once, en w’en his ole ’oman wuz sick, at dat. But never mind

dat. Brer Rabbit sorter dance up long side er de fence, he did,

en holler out:

««Howdy, Sis Cow,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««W’y, howdy, Brer Rabbit,» sez Miss Cow, sez she.

««How you fine yo’se’f deze days, Sis Cow?» sez Brer Rabbit,


««I’m sorter toler’ble, Brer Rabbit; how you come on?» sez Miss

Cow, sez she.

««Oh, I’m des toler’ble myse’f, Sis Cow; sorter linger’n’ twix’ a

bauk en a break-down,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««How yo’ fokes, Brer Rabbit?» sez Miss Cow, sez she.

««Dey er des middlin’, Sis Cow; how Brer Bull gittin’ on?» sez

Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««Sorter so-so,» sez Miss Cow, sez she.

««Dey er some mighty nice ’simmons up dis tree, Sis Cow,» sez

Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’en I’d like mighty well fer ter have some un

um,» sezee.

««How you gwineter git um, Brer Rabbit?» sez she.

««I ’lowed maybe dat I might ax you fer ter butt ’gin de tree, en

shake some down, Sis Cow,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

«C’ose Miss Cow don’t wanter diskommerdate Brer Rabbit, en she

march up ter de ’simmon tree, she did, en hit it a rap wid ’er

horns — blam! Now, den,» continued Uncle Remus, tearing off the

comer of a plug of tobacco and cramming it into his mouth — «now,

den, dem ’simmons wuz green ez grass, en na’er one never drap.

Den Miss Cow butt de tree — blim! Na’er ’simmon drap. Den Miss

Cow sorter back off little, en run agin de tree — blip! No

’simmons never drap. Den Miss Cow back off little fudder, she

did, en hi’st her tail on ’er back, en come agin de tree,

kerblam! en she come so fas’, en she come so hard, twel one ’er

her horns went spang thoo de tree, en dar she wuz. She can’t go

forerds, en she can’t go backerds. Dis zackly w’at Brer Rabbit

waitin’ fer, en he no sooner seed ole Miss Cow all fas’en’d up

dan he jump up, he did, en cut de pidjin-wing.

««Come he’p me out, Brer Rabbit,» sez Miss Cow, sez she.

««I can’t clime, Sis Cow,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’but I’ll

run’n tell Brer Bull,» sezee; en wid dat Brer Rabbit put out fer

home, en ’twan’t long ’fo here he come wid his ole ’oman en all

his chilluns, en de las’ one er de fambly wuz totin’ a pail. De

big uns had big pails, en de little uns had little pails. En dey

all s’roundid ole Miss Cow, dey did, en you hear me, honey, dey

milk’t ’er dry. De ole uns milk’t en de young uns milk’t, en den

w’en dey done got nuff, Brer Rabbit, he up’n say, sezee:

««I wish you mighty well, Sis Cow. I ’low’d, bein’s how dat you’d

hatter sorter camp out all night dat I’d better come en swaje yo’

bag,» sezee.»

«Do which, Uncle Remus?» asked the little boy.

«Go long, honey! Swaje ’er bag. W’en cows don’t git milk’t, der

bag swells, en you k’n hear um a moanin’ en a beller’n des like

dey wuz gittin’ hurtid. Dat’s w’at Brer Rabbit done. He ’sembled

his fambly, he did, en he swaje ole Miss Cow’s bag.

«Miss Cow, she stood dar, she did, en she study en study, en

strive fer ter break loose, but de horn done bin jam in de tree

so tight dat twuz way ’fo day in de mornin’ ’fo’ she loose it.

Anyhow hit wuz endurin’ er de night, en atter she git loose she

sorter graze ’roun’, she did, fer ter jestify ’er stummuck she

low’d, ole Miss Cow did, dat Brer Rabbit be hoppin’ long dat way

fer ter see how she gittin’ on, en she tuck’n lay er trap fer

’im; en des ’bout sunrise w’at’d ole Miss Cow do but march up ter

de ’simmon tree en stick er horn back in de hole? But, bless yo’

soul, honey, w’ile she wuz croppin’ de grass she tuck one mou’ful

too menny, kaze w’en she hitch on ter de ’simmon tree agin, Brer

Rabbit wuz settin’ in de fence cornder a watchin’ un ’er. Den

Brer Rabbit he say ter hisse’f:

««Heyo,» sezee, ’w’at dis yer gwine on now? Hol’ yo’ hosses, Sis

Cow, twel you hear me comin’,» sezee.

«En den he crope off down de fence, Brer Rabbit did, en bimeby

here he come — lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity — des a sailin’

down de big road.

««Mornin’, Sis Cow,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’bow you come on dis

mornin’?» sezee.

«Po’ly, Brer Rabbit, poly,» sez Miss Cow, sez she. «I ain’t had

no res’ all night,» sez she. «I can’t pull loose,» sez she, ’but

ef you’ll come en ketch holt er my tail, Brer Rabbit,» sez she,

«I reckin may be I kin fetch my horn out,» sez she. Den Brer

Rabbit, he come up little closer, but he ain’t gittin’ too close.

««I speck I’m nigh nuff, Sis Cow,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. «I’m a

mighty puny man, en I might git trompled,“ sezee. „You do de

pullin’, Sis Cow,» sezee, en I’ll do de gruntin,» sezee.

«Den Miss Cow, she pull out ’er horn, she did, en tuck atter Brer

Rabbit, en down de big road dey had it, Brer Rabbit wid his years

laid back, en Miss Cow wid ’er head down en ’er tail curl. Brer

Rabbit kep’ on gainin’, en bimeby he dart in a brier-patch, en by

de time Miss Cow come long he had his head stickin’ out, en his

eyes look big ez Miss Sally’s chany sassers.

««Heyo, Sis Cow! whar you gwine?» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««Howdy, Brer Big-Eyes,» sez Miss Cow, sez she. «Is you seed Brer

Rabbit go by?»

««He des dis minit pass,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’en he look

mighty sick,» sezee.

«En wid dat, Miss Cow tuck down de road like de dogs wuz atter

er, en Brer Rabbit, he des lay down dar in de brier-patch en roll

en laugh twel his sides hurtid ’im. He bleedzd ter laff. Fox

atter ’im, Buzzard atter ’im, en Cow atter ’im, en dey ain’t

kotch ’im yet.»


«MISS SALLY’S» little boy again occupying the anxious position

of auditor, Uncle Remus took the shovel and «put de noses er de

chunks tergedder,» as he expressed it, and then began:

«One day, atter Sis Cow done run pas’ ’er own shadder tryin’ fer

ter ketch ’im. Brer Rabbit tuck’n ’low dat he wuz gwineter drap


en see Miss Meadows en de gals, en he got out his piece er

lookin’-glass en primp up, he did, en sot out. Gwine canterin’

long de road, who should Brer Rabbit run up wid but ole Brer

Tarrypin — de same ole one-en-sixpunce. Brer Rabbit stop, he did,

en rap on de roof er Brer Tarrypin house.»

«On the roof of his house, Uncle Remus?» interrupted the little


«Co’se honey, Brer Tarrypin kyar his house wid ’im. Rain er

shine, hot er col’, strike up wid ole Brer Tarrypin w’en you

will en w’ilst you may, en whar you fine ’im, dar you’ll fine

his shanty. Hit’s des like I tell you. So den! Brer Rabbit he

rap on de roof er Brer Tarrypin’s house, he did, en ax wuz he

in, en Brer Tarrypin ’low dat he wuz, en den Brer Rabbit, he ax

’im howdy, en den Brer Tarrypin he likewise ’spon’ howdy, en den

Brer Rabbit he say whar wuz Brer Tarrypin gwine, en Brer

Tarrypin, he say w’ich he wern’t gwine nowhar skasely. Den Brer

Rabbit ’low he wuz on his way fer ter see Miss Meadows en de

gals, en he ax Brer Tarrypin ef he won’t jine in en go long, en

Brer Tarrypin ’spon’ he don’t keer ef he do, en den dey sot out.

Dey had plenty er time fer confabbin’ ’long de way, but bimeby

dey got dar, en Miss Meadows en de gals dey come ter de do’, dey

did, en ax um in, en in dey went.

«W’en dey got in, Brer Tarrypin wuz so flat-footed dat he wuz too

low on de flo’, en he wern’t high nuff in a cheer, but while dey

wuz all scrambling’ ’roun’ tryin’ fer ter git Brer Tarrypin a

cheer, Brer Rabbit, he pick ’im up en put ’im on de shelf whar de

water-bucket sot, en ole Brer Tarrypin, he lay back up dar, he

did, des es proud ez a nigger wid a cook possum.

«Co’se de talk fell on Brer Fox, en Miss Meadows en de gals make

a great ’miration ’bout w’at a gaily ridin’-hoss Brer Fox wuz, en

dey make lots er fun, en laugh en giggle same like gals duz deze

days. Brer Rabbit, he sot dar in de cheer smokin’ his seegyar, en

he sorter cle’r up his th’oat, en say, sezee:

«I’d er rid ’im over dis mawnin’, ladies,» sezee, but I rid ’im

so hard yistiddy dat he went lame in de off fo’ leg, en I speck

I’ll hatter swop ’im off yit,» sezee.

«Den Brer Tarrypin, he up’n say, sezee:

««Well, ef you gwineter sell ’im, Brer Rabbit,» sezee, ’sell him

some’rs out’n dis naberhood, kase he done bin yer too long now,»

sezee. «No longer’n day ’fo’ yistiddy,» sezee, «Brer Fox pass me

on de road, en whatter you reckin he say?» sezee:

««Law, Brer Tarrypin,» sez Miss Meadows, sez she, ’you don’t mean

ter say he cusst?» sez she, en den de gals hilt der fans up ’fo’

der faces.

««Oh, no, ma’am,» sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, ’he didn’t cusst, but

he holler out — «Heyo, Stinkin’ Jim!»» sezee.

««Oh, my! You hear dat, gals?» sez Miss Meadows, sez she; «Brer

Fox call Brer Tarrypin Stinkin’ Jim,» sez she, en den Miss

Meadows en de gals make great wonderment how Brer Fox kin talk

dat a way ’bout nice man like Brer Tarrypin.

«But bless grashus, honey! w’ilst all dis gwine on, Brer Fox wuz

stannin’ at de back do’ wid one year at de cat-hole lissenin’.

Eave-drappers don’t hear no good er deyse’f, en de way Brer Fox

wuz ’bused dat day wuz a caution.

«Bimeby Brer Fox stick his head in de do’, en holler out:

««Good evenin’, fokes, I wish you mighty well,» sezee, en wid dat

he make a dash for Brer Rabbit, but Miss Meadows en de gals dey

holler en squall, dey did, en Brer Tarrypin he got ter scramblin’

roun’ up dar on de shelf, en off he come, en blip he tuck Brer

Fox on de back er de head. Dis sorter stunted Brer Fox, en w’en

he gedder his ’membunce de mos’ he seed wuz a pot er greens turnt

over in de fireplace, en a broke cheer. Brer Rabbit wuz gone, en

Brer Tarrypin wuz gone, en Miss Meadows en de gals wuz gone.

«Where did the Rabbit go, Uncle Remus?» the little boy asked,

after a pause.

«Bless yo’ soul, honey! Brer Rabbit he skint up de chimbly — dat’s

w’at turnt de pot er greens over. Brer Tarrypin, he crope under

de bed, he did, en got behime de cloze-chist, en Miss Meadows en

de gals, dey run out in de yard.

«Brer Fox, he sorter look roun’ en feel or de back er his head,

whar Brer Tarrypin lit, but he don’t see no sine er Brer Rabbit.

But de smoke en de ashes gwine up de chimbly got de best er Brer

Rabbit, en bimeby he sneeze — huckychow!

««Aha!» sez Brer Fox, sezee; ’you er dar, is you?» sezee. «Well,

I’m gwineter smoke you out, ef it takes a mont’. You er mine dis

time,» sezee. Brer Rabbit ain’t Sayin’ nuthin’.

««Ain’t you comin’ down?» sez Brer Fox, sezee. Brer Rabbit ain’t

sayin’ nuthin’. Den Brer Fox, he went out atter some wood, he

did, en w’en he come back he hear Brer Rabbit laughin’.

««W’at you laughin’ at, Brer Rabbit?» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««Can’t tell you, Brer Fox,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««Better tell, Brer Rabbit,» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««Tain’t nuthin’ but a box er money somebody done gone en lef’ up

yer in de chink er de chimbly,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««Don’t b’leeve you,» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««Look up en see,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, en w’en Brer Fox look

up, Brer Rabbit spit his eyes full er terbacker joose, he did, en

Brer Fox, he make a break fer de branch, en Brer Rabbit he come

down en tole de ladies good-by.

««How you git ’im off, Brer Rabbit?» sez Miss Meadows, sez she.

««Who? me?» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee; ’w’y I des tuck en tole ’im

dat ef he didn’t go ’long home en stop playin’ his pranks on

spectubble fokes, dat I’d take ’im out and th’ash ’im,» sezee.»

«And what became of the Terrapin?» asked the little boy.

«Oh, well den!» exclaimed the old man, «chilluns can’t speck ter

know all ’bout eve’ything ’fo’ dey git some res’. Dem eyelids er

yone wanter be propped wid straws dis minnit.»


«I LAY yo’ ma got comp’ny,» said Uncle Remus, as the little boy

entered the old man’s door with a huge piece of mince-pie in his

hand, ’en ef she ain’t got comp’ny, den she done gone en drap de

cubberd key som’ers whar you done run up wid it.»

«Well, I saw the pie lying there, Uncle Remus, and I just thought

I’d fetch it out to you.»

«Tooby sho, honey,» replied the old man, regarding the child with

admiration. «Tooby sho, honey; dat changes marters. Chris’mus

doin’s is outer date, en dey ain’t got no bizness layin’ roun’

loose. Dish yer pie,» Uncle Remus continued, holding it up and

measuring it with an experienced eye, «will gimme strenk fer ter

persoo on atter Brer Fox en Brer Rabbit en de udder creeturs w’at

dey roped in ’long wid um.»

Here the old man paused, and proceeded to demolish the pie — a

feat accomplished in a very short time. Then he wiped the crumbs

from his beard and began:

«Brer Fox feel so bad, en he git so mad ’bout Brer Rabbit, dat he

dunner w’at ter do, en he look mighty down-hearted. Bimeby, one

day wiles he wuz gwine ’long de road, old Brer Wolf come up wid

’im. W’en dey done howdyin’ en axin’ atter one nudder’s fambly

connexshun, Brer Wolf, he ’low, he did, dat der wuz sump’n wrong

wid Brer Fox, en Brer Fox, he ’low’d der wern’t, en he went on en

laugh en make great terdo kaze Brer Wolf look like he spishun

sump’n. But Brer Wolf, he got mighty long head, en he sorter

broach ’bout Brer Rabbit’s kyar’ns on, kaze de way dat Brer

Rabbit ’ceive Brer Fox done got ter be de talk er de naberhood.

Den Brer Fox en Brer Wolf dey sorter palavered on, dey did, twel

bimeby Brer Wolf he up’n say dat he done got plan fix fer ter

trap Brer Rabbit. Den Brer Fox say how. Den Brer Wolf up’n tell

’im dat de way fer ter git de drap on Brer Rabbit wuz ter git ’im

in Brer Fox house. Brer Fox dun know Brer Rabbit uv ole, en he

know dat sorter game done wo’ ter a frazzle, but Brer Wolf, he

talk mighty ’swadin’.

««How you gwine git ’im dar?» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««Fool ’im dar,» sez Brer Wolf, sezee.

««Who gwine do de foolin’?» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««I’ll do de foolin’,» sez Brer Wolf, sezee, ’ef you’ll do de

gamin’,» sezee.

««How you gwine do it?» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««You run ’long home, en git on de bed, en make like you dead, en

don’t you say nothin’ twel Brer Rabbit come en put his han’s

onter you,» sez Brer Wolf, sezee, ’en ef we don’t git ’im fer

supper, Joe’s dead en Sal’s a widder,» sezee.

«Dis look like mighty nice game, en Brer Fox ’greed. So den he

amble off home, en Brer Wolf, he march off ter Brer Rabbit house.

W’en he got dar, hit look like nobody at home, but Brer Wolf he

walk up en knock on de do’ — blam! blam! Nobody come. Den he

lam aloose en knock ’gin — blim! blim!

««Who dar?» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««Fr’en’,» sez Brer Wolf.

««Too menny fr’en’s spiles de dinner,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee;

’w’ich un’s dis?» sezee.

««I fetch bad news, Brer Rabbit,» sez Brer Wolf, sezee.

««Bad news is soon tole,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

«By dis time Brer Rabbit done come ter de do’, wid his head tied

up in a red hankcher.

««Brer Fox died dis mornin’,» sez Brer Wolf, sezee.

««Whar yo’ mo’nin’ gown, Brer Wolf?» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

««Gwine atter it now,» sez Brer Wolf, sezee. «I des call by fer

ter bring de news. I went down ter Brer Fox house little bit ’go,

en dar I foun’ ’im stiff,» sezee.

«Den Brer Wolf lope off. Brer Rabbit sot down en scratch his

head, he did, en bimeby he say ter hisse’f dat he b’leeve he

sorter drap ’roun’ by Brer Fox house fer ter see how de lan’ lay.

No sooner said’n done. Up he jump, en out he went. W’en Brer

Rabbit got close ter Brer Fox house, all look lonesome. Den he

went up nigher. Nobody stirrin’. Den he look in, en dar lay Brer

Fox stretch out on de bed des es big ez life. Den Brer Rabbit

make like he talkin’ to hisse’f.

««Nobody ’roun’ fer ter look atter Brer Fox — not even Brer Tukkey

Buzzard ain’t come ter de funer’l,“ sezee. „I hope Brer Fox ain’t

dead, but I speck he is,“ sezee. „Even down ter Brer Wolf done

gone en lef’ ’im. Hit’s de busy season wid me, but I’ll set up

wid ’im. He seem like he dead, yit he mayn’t be,» sez Brer

Rabbit, sezee. «W’en a man go ter see dead fokes, dead fokes

allers raises up der behime leg en hollers, wahoo!» sezee.

«Brer Fox he stay still. Den Brer Rabbit he talk little louder:

««Mighty funny. Brer Fox look like he dead, yit he don’t do like

he dead. Dead fokes hists der behime leg en hollers wahoo! w’en a

man come ter see um, sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

«Sho’ nuff, Brer Fox lif’ up his foot en holler wahoo! en Brer

Rabbit he tear out de house like de dogs wuz atter ’im. Brer Wolf

mighty smart, but nex’ time you hear fum ’im, honey, he’ll be in

trouble. You des hol’ yo’ breff’n wait.»


«ONE day,» said Uncle Remus, sharpening his knife on the palm

of his hand — «one day Brer Fox strike up wid Brer Tarrypin right

in de middle er de big road. Brer Tarrypin done heerd ’im comin’,

en he ’low ter hisse’f dat he’d sorter keep one eye open; but

Brer Fox wuz monstus perlite, en he open up de confab, he did,

like he ain’t see Brer Tarrypin sence de las’ freshit.

««Heyo, Brer Tarrypin, whar you bin dis long-come-short?» sez

Brer Fox, sezee.

««Lounjun ’roun’, Brer Fox, lounjun ’roun’,» sez Brer Tarrypin.

««You don’t look sprucy like you did, Brer Tarrypin,» sez Brer

Fox, sezee.

««Lounjun ’roun’ en suffer’n’,» sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee.

«Den de talk sorter run on like dis:

««W’at ail you, Brer Tarrypin? Yo’ eye look mighty red,» sez Brer

Fox, sezee.

««Lor’, Brer Fox, you dunner w’at trubble is. You ain’t bin

lounjun ’roun’ en suffer’n’,» sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee.

««Bofe eyes red, en you look like you mighty weak, Brer

Tarrypin,» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««Lor’, Brer Fox, you dunner w’at trubble is,» sez Brer Tarrypin,


««W’at ail you now, Brer Tarrypin?» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««Tuck a walk de udder day, en man come long en sot de fiel’

a-fier. Lor’, Brer Fox, you dunner w’at trubble is,» sez Brer

Tarrypin, sezee.

««How you git out de fier, Brer Tarrypin?» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««Sot en tuck it, Brer Fox,» sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee. «Sot en

tuck it, en de smoke sif’ in my eye, en de fier scorch my back,»

sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee.

««Likewise hit bu’n yo’ tail off,» sez Brer Fox, sezee.

««Oh, no, dar’s de tail, Brer Fox,» sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, en

wid dat he oncurl his tail fum under de shell, en no sooner did

he do dat dan Brer Fox grab it, en holler out:

««Oh, yes, Brer Tarrypin! Oh, yes! En so you er de man w’at lam

me on de head at Miss Meadows’s is you? You er in wid Brer

Rabbit, is you? Well, I’m gwineter out you.»

«Brer Tarrypin beg en beg, but ’twan’t no use. Brer Fox done been

fool so much dat he look like he termin’ fer ter have Brer

Tarrypin haslett. Den Brer Tarrypin beg Brer Fox not fer ter

drown ’im, but Brer Fox ain’t makin’ no prommus, en den he beg

Brer Fox fer ter bu’n’ ’im, kase he done useter fier, but Brer

Fox don’t say nuthin’. Bimeby Brer Fox drag Brer Tarrypin off

little ways b’low de spring-’ouse, en souze him under de water.

Den Brer Tarrypin begin fer ter holler:

««Tu’n loose dat stump root en ketch holt er me — tu’n loose dat

stump root en ketch holt er me.»

«Brer Fox he holler back:

««I ain’t got holt er no stump root, en I is got holt er you.»

«Brer Tarrypin he keep on holler’n:

««Ketch holt er me — I’m a drownin’ — I’m a drownin’ — tu’n loose de

stump root en ketch holt er me.»

«Sho nuff, Brer Fox tu’n loose de tail, en Brer Tarrypin, he went

down ter de bottom — kerblunkity-blink!»

No typographical combination or description could do justice to

the guttural sonorousness — the peculiar intonation — which Uncle

Remus imparted to this combination. It was so peculiar, indeed,

that the little boy asked:

«How did he go to the bottom, Uncle Remus?»


«Was he drowned, Uncle Remus?»

«Who? Ole man Tarrypin? Is you drowndid w’en yo’ ma tucks you

in de bed?»

«Well, no,» replied the little boy, dubiously.

«Ole man Tarrypin ’wuz at home I tell you, honey. Kerblinkity-



UNCLE REMUS was half-soling one of his shoes, and his Miss

Sally’s little boy had been handling his awls, his hammers, and

his knives to such an extent that the old man was compelled to

assume a threatening attitude; but peace reigned again, and the

little boy perched himself on a chair, watching Uncle Remus

driving in pegs.

«Folks w’at’s allers pesterin’ people, en bodderin’ ’longer dat

w’at ain’t der’n, don’t never come ter no good een’. Dar wuz Brer

Wolf; stidder mindin’ un his own bizness, he hatter take en go in

pardnerships wid Brer Fox, en dey want skacely a minnit in de day

dat he want atter Brer Rabbit, en he kep’ on en kep’ on twel fus’

news you knowed he got kotch up wid — en he got kotch up wid

monstus bad.»

«Goodness, Uncle Remus! I thought the Wolf let the Rabbit alone,

after he tried to fool him about the Fox being dead.»

«Better lemme tell dish yer my way. Bimeby hit’ll be yo’ bed

time, en Miss Sally’ll be a hollerin’ atter you, en you’ll be a

whimplin’ roun’, en den Mars John’ll fetch up de re’r wid dat ar

strop w’at I made fer im.»

The child laughed, and playfully shook his fist in the simple,

serious face of the venerable old darkey, but said no more. Uncle

Remus waited awhile to be sure there was to be no other

demonstration, and then proceeded:

«Brer Rabbit ain’t see no peace w’atsumever. He can’t leave home

’cep’ Brer Wolf ’ud make a raid en tote off some er de fambly.

Brer Rabbit b’ilt ’im a straw house, en hit wuz tored down; den

he made a house out’n pine-tops, en dat went de same way; den he

made ’im a bark house, en dat wuz raided on, en eve’y time he

los’ a house he los’ one er his chilluns. Las’ Brer Rabbit got

mad, he did, en cusst, en den he went off, he did, en got some

kyarpinters, en dey b’ilt ’im a plank house wid rock foundashuns.

Atter dat he could have some peace en quietness. He could go out

en pass de time er day ’wid his neighbors, en come back en set by

de fier, en smoke his pipe, en read de newspapers same like enny

man w’at got a fambly. He made a hole, he did, in de cellar whar

de little Rabbits could hide out w’en dar wuz much uv a racket in

de neighborhood, en de latch er de front do’ kotch on de inside.

Brer Wolf, he see how de lan’ lay, he did, en he lay low. De

little Rabbits was mighty skittish, but hit got so dat col’

chills ain’t run up Brer Rabbit’s back no mo’ w’en he heerd Brer

Wolf go gallopin’ by.

«Bimeby, one day w’en Brer Rabbit wuz fixin’ fer ter call on Miss

Coon, he heerd a monstrus fuss en clatter up de big road, en

’mos’ ’fo’ he could fix his years fer ter lissen, Brer Wolf run

in de do’. De little Rabbits dey went inter dere hole in de

cellar, dey did, like blowin’ out a cannle. Brer Wolf Wuz far’ly

kivver’d wid mud, en mighty nigh outer win’.

««Oh, do pray save me, Brer Rabbit!» sez Brer Wolf, sezee. «Do

please, Brer Rabbit! de dogs is atter me, en dey ’ll t’ar me up.

Don’t you year um comin’? Oh, do please save me, Brer Rabbit!

Hide me some’rs whar de dogs won’t git me.»

«No quicker sed dan done.

««Jump in dat big chist dar, Brer Wolf,» sez Brer Rabbit, sezee;

’jump in dar en make yo’se’f at home.»

«In jump Brer Wolf, down come the led, en inter de hasp went de

hook, en dar Mr. Wolf wuz. Den Brer Rabbit went ter de lookin’-

glass, he did, en wink at hisse’f, en den he draw’d de rockin’-

cheer in front er de fier, he did, en tuck a big chaw terbacker.»

«Tobacco, Uncle Remus?» asked the little boy, incredulously.

«Rabbit terbacker, honey. You know dis yer life ev’lastin’ w’at

Miss Sally puts ’mong de cloze in de trunk; well, dat’s rabbit

terbacker. Den Brer Rabbit sot dar long time, he did, turnin’ his

mine over en wukken his thinkin’ masheen. Bimeby he got up, en

sorter stir ’roun’. Den Brer Wolf open up:

««Is de dogs all gone, Brer Rabbit?»

««Seem like I hear one un um smellin’ roun’ de chimbly-cornder

des now.»

«Den Brer Rabbit git de kittle en fill it full er water, en put

it on de fier.

««W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?»

««I’m fixin fer ter make you a nice cup er tea, Brer Wolf.»

«Den Brer Rabbit went ter de cubberd en git de gimlet, en

commence for ter bo’ little holes in de chist-lid.

««W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?»

««I’m bo’in’ little holes so you kin get bref, Brer Wolf.»

«Den Brer Rabbit went out en git some mo’ wood, en fling it on de


««W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?»

««I’m a chunkin’ up de fier so you won’t git col’, Brer Wolf.»

«Den Brer Rabbit went down inter de cellar en fotch out all his


««W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?»

««I’m a tellin’ my chilluns w’at a nice man you is, Brer Wolf.»

«En de chilluns, dey had ter put der han’s on der moufs fer ter

keep fum laffin’. Den Brer Rabbit he got de kittle en commenced

fer to po’ de hot water on de chist-lid.

««W’at dat I hear, Brer Rabbit?»

««You hear de win’ a blowin’, Brer Wolf.»

«Den de water begin fer ter sif’ thoo.

««W’at dat I feel, Brer Rabbit?»

««You feels de fleas a bitin’, Brer Wolf.»

««Dey er bitin’ mighty hard, Brer Rabbit.»

««Tu’n over on de udder side, Brer Wolf.»

««W’at dat I feel now, Brer Rabbit?»

««Still you feels de fleas, Brer Wolf.»

««Dey er eatin’ me up, Brer Rabbit,» en dem wuz de las words er

Brer Wolf, kase de scaldin’ water done de bizness.

«Den Brer Rabbit call in his neighbors, he did, en dey hilt a

reg’lar juberlee; en ef you go ter Brer Rabbit’s house right now,

I dunno but w’at you’ll fine Brer Wolfs hide hangin’ in de back-

po’ch, en all bekaze he wuz so bizzy wid udder fo’kses doin’s.»


WHEN the little boy ran in to see Uncle Remus the night after he

had told him of the awful fate of Brer Wolf, the only response to

his greeting was:


No explanation could convey an adequate idea of the intonation

and pronunciation which Uncle Remus brought to bear upon this

wonderful word. Those who can recall to mind the peculiar

gurgling, jerking, liquid sound made by pouring water from a

large jug, or the sound produced by throwing several stones in

rapid succession into a pond of deep water, may be able to form a

very faint idea of the sound, but it can not be reproduced in

print. The little boy was astonished.

«What did you say, Uncle Remus?»

«I-doom-er-ker-kum-mer-ker! I-doom-er-ker-kum mer-ker!»

«What is that?»

«Dat’s Tarrypin talk, dat is. Bless yo’ soul, honey,» continued

the old man, brightening up, «w’en you git ole ez me — w’en you

see w’at I sees, en year w’at I years — de creeturs dat you can’t

talk wid’ll be mighty skase — dey will dat. W’y, der’s er old gray

rat w’at uses ’bout yer, en time atter time he comes out w’en you

all done gone ter bed en sets up dar in de cornder en dozes, en

me en him talks by de ’our; en w’at dat old rat dunno ain’t down

in de spellin’ book. Des now, w’en you run in and broke me up, I

wuz fetchin’ into my mine w’at Brer Tarrypin say ter Brer Fox

w’en he turn ’im loose in de branch.»

«What did he say, Uncle Remus?»

«Dat w’at he said — I-doom-er-ker-kum-mer-ker! Brer Tarrypin wuz

at de bottom er de pon’, en he talk back, he did, in bubbles — I-

doom-er-ker-kum-mer-ker! Brer Fox, he ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, but

Brer Bull-Frog, settin’ on de bank, he hear Brer Tarrypin, he

did, en he holler back:

«Jug-er-rum-kum-dum! Jug-er-rum-kum-dum!»

«Den Brer Frog holler out: «Knee-deep! Knee-deep!»

«Den ole Brer Bull-Frog, he holler back: «Don’-you-ber-lieve-’im!


«Den de bubbles come up fum Brer Tarrypin: «I-doom-er-ker-kum-


«Den Brer Frog sing out: «Wade in! Wade in!»

«Den ole Brer Bull-Frog talk thoo his ho’seness: «Dar-you’ll-

fine-yo’-brudder! Dar-you’ll-fine-yo’-brudder!»

«Sho nuff, Brer Fox look over de bank, he did, en dar wuz n’er

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