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I ain't tromped roun' de country much. I ain't bin to Charlstun an' needer is I tuck in Savanny; but you couldn't rig up no game on me dat I wouldn't tumble on to it de minit I laid my eyeballs on you. W'en hit come to dat I'm ole man Tumbler, fum Tumblersville I is dat. Hit takes one er deze yer full-blooded w'ite men fur ter trap my jedgment.
He hot fer true, ain't he?" "Daddy who?" asked Uncle Remus, straightening himself up with dignity. "W'ich?" "I know you in Char'son, an' den in Sewanny. I spec I dun grow away from 'membrance." "You knowed me in Charlstun, and den in Savanny?" "He been long time, ain't he, Daddy Ben?" "Dat's w'at's a pesterin' un me. How much you reckon you know'd me?" "He good while pas'; when I wer' pickaninny.
"Boss, you see dat smart Ellick?" "Yes, what's the matter with him?" "He's one er deze yer scurshun niggers from Charlstun. I seed you a-stannin' over agin de cornder yander, an' ef dat nigger'd a draw'd his monty kyards on me, I wuz a gwineter holler fer you. Would you er come, boss?" "Why, certainly, Uncle Remus." "Dat's w'at I 'low'd. Little more'n he'd a bin aboard er de wrong waggin.
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