NIGHTS WITH UNCLE REMUS 
“Tooby sho’ I is — tooby sho’ I is! En w’at’s mo’ dan dat, I 
bin had my han’s in tar-water.” 
“I year talk er dat,” remarked Aunt Tempy, with an approv¬ 
ing nod. 
“Yasser! in de nat’al tar-water,” continued Uncle Remus. 
“ You put yo’ han’ in'a pa’tridge nes’, en he’ll quit dem premises 
dough he done got ’lev’m dozen aigs in dar. Same wid Rabbit. 
Dey ain’t got sense lak de ole-time Rabbit, but I let you know dey 
ain’t gwine in no trap whar dey smell folks’ han’s — dat dey ain’t. 
Dat w’at make I say w’at I does. Don’t put yo’ han’ on it; don’t 
tetch it; don’t look at it skacely.” 
The little boy subsided, but he continued to cast longing looks 
at the trap, seeing which Uncle Remus sought to change the cur¬ 
rent of his thoughts. 
“She bin er mighty heap er trouble, mon, yet I mighty glad I 
tuck’n make dat ar trap. She’s a solid un, sho’, en ef dey wuz ter 
be any skaceness er vittles, I lay dat ar trap ’ud help us all out.” 
“De Lord knows,” exclaimed Aunt Tempy, rubbing her fat 
hands together, “I hope dey ain’t gwine ter be no famishin’ ’roun’ 
yer ’mungs we all.” 
“Likely not,” said Uncle Remus, “yet de time mought come 
w’en a big swamp rabbit kotch in dat ar trap would go a mighty 
long ways in a fambly no bigger dan w’at mine is.” 
“Mo’ speshually,” remarked Aunt Tempy, “ef you put dat 
wid w’at de neighbors mought sen’ in.” 
“Eh-eh!” Uncle Remus exclaimed, “don’t you put no ’pen- 
nunce in dem neighbors — don’t you do it. W’en famine time 
come one man ain’t no better dan no yuther man ’ceppin’ he be 
soopless; en he got ter be mighty soople at dat.” 
The old man paused and glanced at the little boy. The child 
was still looking longingly at the trap, and Uncle Remus leaned 
forward and touched him lightly on the shoulder. It was a famil¬ 
iar gesture, gentle and yet rough, a token of affection, and yet a 
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