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"De ole man's holler'n now sho'," said one of the listeners, gazing with admiration on the venerable old darkey. "I ain't takin' no chances 'bout vittles. Hit's proned inter me fum de fus dat I got ter eat, en I knows dat I got fer ter grub for w'at I gits.
'Tain't bin proned inter no Brer B'ar fer ter kotch Brer Rabbit. Hit sorter like settin' a mule fer ter trap a hummin'-bird. But Brer B'ar, he tuck'n got hisse'f inter some mo' trubble, w'ich it look like it mighty easy.
"One evenin' Dan Boggs, who's allers tantalisin' 'round askin' questions it looks like a sleepless cur'osity is proned into Dan ropes at Peets concernin' this topic: "'Whatever do they teach in colleges, Doc? asks Dan. "'They teaches all of the branches," retorts Peets. "'An' none of the roots, adds Colonel Sterett, 'as a cunnin' Yank once remarks on a o'casion sim'lar.
En, fuddermo', I know dat 'tain't proned inter no dogs fer ter ketch de rabbit w'at use in a berryin'-groun'. Dey er de mos' ongodlies' creeturs w'at you ever laid eyes on," continued Uncle Remus, with unction. "Down dar in Putmon County yo' Unk Jeems, he make like he gwineter ketch wunner dem dar graveyard rabbits.
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