NIGHTS WITH UNCLE REMUS 
de long days sence Brer Jack seed Ole Miss, yit ef he ain’t seed 
’er dat whack, den I ain’t settin’ yer.” i 
After a while Daddy Jack ceased his rocking, and his moaning, 
and his crying, and sat gazing wistfully into the fireplace. What¬ 
ever he saw there fixed his attention, for Uncle Remus spoke to 
him several times without receiving a response. Presently, how¬ 
ever, Daddy Jack exclaimed with characteristic but laughable 
irrelevance: — 
“I no lakky dem gal wut is bin-a stan’ pidjin-toe. Wun ’e 
fetch pail er water on ’e head, water churray, churray. I no 
lakky dem gal wut tie ’e wool up wit’ string; mekky him stan’ 
ugly fer true. I bin ahx da’ ’Tildy gal fer marry me, un ’e no crack 
’im bre’t’ fer mek answer ’cep’ ’e bre’k out un lahf by me werry 
face. Da’ gal do holler un lahf un stomp ’e fut dey-dey, un dun 
I shum done gone pidjin-toe. Oona bin know da’ ’Tildy gal?” 
“I bin a-knowin’ dat gal,” said Uncle Remus, grimly regarding 
the old African; “I bin a-knowin’ dat gal now gwine on sence she 
’uz knee-high ter one er deze yer puddle-ducks; en I bin noticin’ 
lately dat she mighty likely nigger.” 
“Enty!” exclaimed Daddy Jack, enthusiastically, “I did bin 
mek up ter da’ lilly gal troo t’ick un t’in. I bin fetch ’im one fine 
’possum, un mo’ ez one, two, free peck-a taty, un bumbye I bin 
fetch ’im one bag pop-co’n. Wun I bin do dat, I is fley ’roun’ da’ 
lilly gal so long tarn, un I yeddy ’im talk wit’ turrer gal. ’E do 
say: ‘Daddy Jack fine ole man fer true.’ Dun I is bin talk: ‘Oona 
no call-a me Daddy Jack wun dem preacher man come fer marry 
we.’ Dun da’ lilly gal t’row ’e head back; ’e squeal lak filly in 
canebrake.” 
The little boy understood this rapidly spoken lingo perfectly 
well, but he would have laughed anyhow, for there was more than 
a suggestion of the comic in the shrewd seriousness that seemed to 
focus itself in Daddy Jack’s pinched and wrinkled face. 
“She tuck de truck w’at you tuck’n fotch ’er,” said Uncle 
114 
