NIGHTS WITH UNCLE REMUS 
VI 
BRER RABBIT SECURES A MANSION 
The rain continued to fall the next day, but the little boy made 
arrangements to go with ’Tildy when she carried Uncle Remus 
his supper. This happened to be a waiter full of things left over 
from dinner. There was so much that the old man was moved to 
remark: — 
“I cl’ar ter gracious, hit look lak Miss Sally done got my name 
in de pot dis time, sho\ I des wish you look at dat pone er co’n- 
bread, honey, en dem ar greens, en see ef dey ain’t got Remus writ 
some’rs on um. Dat ar chick’n fixin’s, dey look lak deyer good, 
yet ’taint familious wid me lak dat ar bile ham. Dem ar sweet- 
taters, dey stan’s fa’r fer dividjun, but dem ar puzzuv, 1 1 lay dey 
fit yo’ palate mo’ samer dan dey does mine. Dish yer hunk er 
beef, we kin talk ’bout dat w’en de time come, en dem ar biscuits, 
I des nat’ally knows Miss Sally put um in dar fer some little chap 
w’ich his name I ain’t gwine ter call in comp’ny.” 
It was easy to perceive that the sight of the supper had put 
Uncle Remus in rare good-humor. He moved around briskly, 
taking the plates from the waiter and distributing them with ex¬ 
aggerated carefulness around upon his little pine table. Mean¬ 
while he kept up a running fire of conversation. 
“Folks w’at kin set down en have der vittles brung en put down 
right spang und’ der nose — dem kinder folks ain’t got no needs 
er no umbrell. Night ’fo’ las’, w’iles I wuz settin’ dar in de do’, I 
year dem Willis-whistlers, en den I des knowed we ’uz gwine ter 
git a season.” 2 
“The Willis-whistlers, Uncle Remus,” exclaimed the little boy. 
“What are they?” 
1 Preserves. 
2 In the South, a rain is called a “season,” not only by the negroes, but by many 
white farmers. 
22 
