NIGHTS WITH UNCLE REMUS 
toobookity — bookity — bookity-book — lopin’ ’long mo’ samer dan 
a bay colt in de bolly-patch. En he wuz all primp up, too, mon, 
en he look slick en shiny lak he des come outen de sto’. Ole man 
Rab., he sot dar, he did, en w’en ole Brer Fox come gallopin’ 
’long, Brer Rabbit, he up’n hail ’im. Brer Fox, he fotch up, en 
dey pass de time er day wid one er nudder monst’us perlite; en den, 
bimeby atter w’ile, Brer Rabbit, he up’n say, sezee, dat he got 
some mighty good news fer Brer Fox; en Brer Fox, he up’n ax 
’im w’at is it. Den Brer Rabbit, he sorter scratch he year wid his 
behime foot en say, sezee: — 
“‘I wuz takin’ a walk day ’fo’ yistiddy,’ sezee, ‘w’en de fus’ 
news I know’d I run up gin de bigges’ en de fattes’ bunch er 
grapes dat I ever lay eyes on. Dey wuz dat fat en dat big,’ sezee, 
‘dat de natal juice wuz des drappin’ fum um, en de bees wuz a- 
swawmin’ atter de honey, en little ole Jack Sparrer en all er his 
fambly conneckshun wuz skeetin’ ’roun’ dar dippin’ in der bills,’ 
sezee. 
“Right den en dar,” Uncle Remus went on, “Brer Fox mouf 
’gun ter water, en he look outer he eye like he de bes’ frien’ w’at 
Brer Rabbit got in de roun’ worl’. He done fergit all ’bout de gals, 
en he sorter sidle up ter Brer Rabbit, he did, en he say, sezee: — 
“‘Come on, Brer Rabbit,’ sezee, ‘en less you ’n me go git dem 
ar grapes ’fo’ deyer all gone,’ sezee. En den ole Brer Rabbit, he 
laff, he did, en up’n ’spon’, sezee: — 
‘“I hungry myse’f, Brer Fox,’ sezee, ‘but I ain’t hankerin’ 
atter grapes, en I ’ll be in monst’us big luck ef I kin rush ’roun’ 
yer some’rs en scrape up a bait er pusley time nuff fer ter keep de 
breff in my body. En yit,’ sezee, ‘ ef you take’n rack off atter deze 
yer grapes, w’at Miss Meadows en de gals gwine do? I lay dey 
got yo’ name in de pot,’ sezee. 
“‘Ez ter dat,’ sez ole Brer Fox, sezee, ‘I kin drap ’roun’ en see 
de ladies atterwards,’ sezee. 
“‘Well, den, ef dat’s yo’ game,’ sez ole man Rab., sezee, ‘I kin 
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