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He 'low he gwine be no trouble at all ef he jes been let wait twell he ma she gwine up de ladder to de loft to bed, too. So he ma she say: "Git erlong wid yo'! Whut you skeered ob whin dey ain't no ghosts?" An' li'l black Mose he scrooge, an' he twist, an' he pucker up he mouf, an' he rub he eyes, an' prisintly he say right low: "I ain't skeered ob ghosts whut am, 'ca'se dey ain't no ghosts."
It was so da'k in de cabin he could n' tell whe'r it wuz a green bottle er no. But he hilt de bottle ter de cunjuh man's mouf, en he tuk a big mouff'l. He had n' mo' d'n swallowed it befo' he 'mence' ter holler. "'You gimme de wrong bottle, Brer Pete; dis yer bottle 's got pizen in it, en I's done fer dis time, sho'. Hol' me up, fer de Lawd's sake! 'tel I git th'oo turnin' Brer Primus back.
It was sometime before I found out the real meaning of this crafty move; the sharp prince, sent to do me honour, intended me to recommend him to Mr. Hogg as an especially worthy recipient of "trust." Roi Denis added an abundance of "sweet mouf," and, the compact ended, he condescendingly walked down with me to the beach, shook hands and exchanged a civilized "Au revoir."
He had been keeping bachelor's hall so long in the big hollow tree that things were not very tidy. So Unc' Billy cleaned house, and while he worked he whistled and sang. Peter Rabbit, passing that way, overheard Unc' Billy singing: "Mah ol' woman is away down Souf Come along! Come along! Ain't nothin' sharper than the tongue in her mouf Come along! Come along!
Ef dey ever was a pusson dat could assemble a' apple-dumplin' so's you swoller hit 'most afore hit gits to yer mouf, dat pusson is you." Harmony being thus restored, and the patient having emptied all the dishes before him, Amanda proceeded to clear up.
Den dey wake up Brer Possum, en tell 'im 'bout it, but c'ose Brer Possum 'ny it ter de las'. Brer Fox, dough, he's a kinder lawyer, en he argafy dis way dat Brer Possum wuz de fus one at de butter, en de fus one fer ter miss it, en mo'n dat, dar hang de signs on his mouf.
He ate it with beaming looks, that became gradually more gloomy, and were very blank indeed by the time he had finished. "It hasn't got no taste at all!" he complained. "I couldn't feel nuffin in my mouf! It's a what's that hard word, Sylvie?" "It was a Phlizz," Sylvie gravely replied. "Are they all like that, father?"
So li'l black Mose he heft up dat pumpkin, an' de ghost he bent down, an' li'l black Mose he sot dat pumpkin on dat ghostses neck. An' right off dat pumpkin head 'gin to wink an' blink like a jack-o'-lantern, an' right off dat pumpkin head 'gin to glimmer an' glow frough de mouf like a jack-o'-lantern, an' right off dat ghost start to speak. Yas, sah, dass so.
Then she pointed out the way again and they set off with a well-filled paper of luncheon. "Beware of hasty judgments, Big Abel," advised Dan, as they strolled along the road. "Now that woman there she's the right sort, though she rather took my breath away." "She 'uz downright ficy at fu'st," replied Big Abel, "but I d'clar dose eggs des melted in my mouf like butter.
You've been a-prayin' en shoutin' so loud dese las' tree days dat I wunner de Lawd ain' done shet yo' mouf des ter git rid er you." "Praying, have I?" said Dan. "Well, I declare. That reminds me of Mr. Blake, Big Abel. I'd like to know what's become of him."
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