NIGHTS WITH UNCLE REMUS 
honey, w’en I gits my head r’ar’d back dat a-way, en my eyeleds 
shot, en my mouf open, en my chin pantin’ at de rafters, den dey’s 
some mighty quare gwines on in my min’. Dey is dat, des ez sho’ 
ez youer settin’ dar. W’en I fus’ year you cornin’ down de paf,” 
Uncle Remus continued, rubbing his beard thoughtfully, “I ’uz 
sorter fear’d you mought ’spicion dat I done gone off on my jour¬ 
neys fer ter see ole man Nod.” 
This was accompanied by a glance of inquiry, to which the 
little boy thought it best to respond. 
“ Well, Uncle Remus,” he said, “ I did think I heard you snoring 
when I came in.” 
“Now you see dat!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, in a tone of 
grieved astonishment; “you see dat! Man can’t leanhisse’f ’pun 
his ’membunce, ’ceppin’ dey’s some un fer ter come high-primin’ 
’roun’ en ’lowin’ dat he done gone ter sleep. Shoo! W’en you stept 
in dat do’ dar I ’uz right in ’mungs some mighty quare notions — 
mighty quare notions. Dey ain’t no two ways; ef I uz ter up 
en let on ’bout all de notions w’at I gits in ’mungs, folks ’ud hat¬ 
ter come en kyar me off ter de place whar dey puts ’stracted 
people. 
“Atter I sop up my supper,” Uncle Remus went on, “I tuck’n 
year some flutterments up dar ’mungs de rafters, en I look up, en 
dar wuz a Bat sailin’ ’roun’. ’Roun’ en ’roun’, en ’roun’ she go — 
und’ de rafters, ’bove de rafters — en ez she sail she make noise 
lak she grittin’ ’er toofies. Now, w’at dat Bat atter, I be bless ef 
I kin tell you, but dar she wuz; ’roun’ en ’roun’, over en under. 
I ax ’er w’at do she want up dar, but she ain’t got no time fer ter 
tell; ’roun’ en ’roun’, en over en under. En bimeby, out she flip, 
en I boun’ she grittin’ ’er toofies en gwine ’roun’ en ’roun’ out dar, 
en dodgin’ en flippin’ des lak de elements wuz full er rafters en 
cobwebs. 
“W’en she flip out I le’nt my head back, I did, en’t wa’n’t no 
time ’fo’ I git mix up wid my notions. Dat Bat wings so limber 
84 
