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She jes' wrap' her cloak 'roun' her shoulders, an' wen' 'long back by herse'f, widout doin' more'n jes' look up once at Marse Chan leanin' dyah 'g'inst de gate-pos' in he sodger clo'es, wid he eyes on de groun'. She said 'Good-by' sort o' sorf, an' Marse Chan, widout lookin' up, shake han's wid her, an' she wuz done gone down de road.
"He wuz tryin' fer ter fling Brer Rabbit off'n his back, bless yo' soul! But he des might ez well er rastle wid his own shadder. Every time he hump hisse'f Brer Rabbit slap de spurrers in 'im, en dar dey had it, up en down. Brer Fox fa'rly to' up de groun' he did, en he jump so high en he jump so quick dat he mighty nigh snatch his own tail off.
"Our white folks buried all dey silver in de groun' an' hid dey hosses in de deep gullies near de plantation. Even dey clo'es an' meat dey hide, an' de soljers didn' find nothin' 'cepin' de hosses, an' dey lef' dey tired ones an' tuk our fresh ones wid' em. Dey burned de fiel's an' orchards so our white folks couldn' he'p feed our soljers none.
It was close to Livingston, Alabama, where we lived. "I was twelve years old when de stars fell. Dey fell late in de night an' dey lighted up de whole earth. It's a wonder some of' em didn' hit us, but dey didn'. Dey never hit de groun' atall. He said it was his pony an' I said it was mine.
But it was when he was comin' down the slippery birch that the weight of the bag made him rather more rapid than he wanted to be; an' so, when he an' the bag struck groun', they nearly always bounced apart; an' if the Injun failed to get his feet in time to ketch the sack on the first bounce, I ketched it on the second bounce as I glode by.
Den I wuz left on de groun foh a long time while missie visited Missie Maxie. Dey start home on horses pulling de rope tied to mah hands. I had to run or fall down an' be dragged on de groun'. It wuz terrible. When we got home de missie whipped me with a thick hickory switch an' she wasn't a bit lenient. I wuz whipped ev'ry time I ran away to see mah sister.
If they'd come here three months ago, befure Crownjoy was suffocated out iv his hole in th' groun', they'd be smokin' their pipes in rockin' chairs on th' veranda iv th' white house an' passin' th' bucket between thim an' Mack. But 'tis diff'rent now. 'Tis diff'rent now.
"So he put him in a gully-field, whar dar was nuffin but bar' groun' an' hog weed. Now, dar was nuffin in dis worl' dat triflin' mule hated so much as hog weed, an' he says to hese'f: 'I's boun' ter do somefin' better'n dis fur a libin.
"Dis place," said Emma Campbell, as the snaggle-toothed sky-line of New York unfolded before her staring eyes, "ain't never growed up natchel out o' de groun'; it done tumbled down out o' de sky en got busted uneven in de fall."
De rain fall so saf' in de long dark night, Twel you hatter hol' yo' han' for a sign, But de drizzle w'at sets de tater-slips right Is de makin' er de May-pop vine. In de mellerest groun' de clay root 'll ketch En hol' ter de tongue er de plow, En a pine-pole gate at de gyardin-patch Never 'll keep out de ole brindle cow.
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