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I lived in dem two counties. Was born in Wilkes and raised in Lincoln County, Georgia. We called it de middle-south. My Marster he never did marry. Lots of folks didnt, dey jes took up wid one another. Marster Hopper had five children by my grandmother. She was his house woman, dat's what he call 'er. An when he died he willed her and all dem chilluns a house, some land, and a little money.
"If dey is I'se gwine t' git out quick!" cried Dinah. "Come on, chilluns. I'se got de cat!" and she started to run for the door, carrying the basket holding Snoop. "Be quiet," said Mr. Bobbsey. "Nothing much seems to have happened. We didn't hit anything, anyhow." Some of the fresh air children were excited, and the two ladies in charge hurried here and there quieting them.
"Am 84 y'ars ole en wuz bawn in Florence, Alabama, 'bout seben miles fum town. Wuz bawn on de Collier plantashun en Marster en Missis wuz James en Jeanette Collier. Mah daddy en mammy wuz named Nelson en Jane Collier. I wuz named atter one ob mah Missis' daughters. Our family wuz neber sold er divided." "I'se bin ma'ied once. Ma'ied Neeley Greer. Thank de Lawd I aint got no chilluns.
I got dat jug down dar in Putmon County w'en Mars 'Lisha Ferryman wuz a young man, an' now he's done growed up, an' got ole an' died, an' his chilluns is growed up an' dey kin count dere gran'chilluns, an' yit dar's dat jug des ez lively an' ez lierbul fer ter kick up devilment ez w'at she wuz w'en she come fum de foundry." "That's the trouble," said one of the young men.
Dar wuz Brer Rabbit's chilluns; dey minded der daddy en mammy fum day's een' ter day's een'. W'en ole man Rabbit say scoot, dey scooted, en w'en ole Miss Rabbit say 'scat, dey scatted. Dey did dat. En dey kep der cloze clean, en dey ain't had no smut on der nose nudder." Involuntarily the hand of the little boy went up to his face, and he scrubbed the end of his nose with his coat-sleeve.
I got mo' winning ways wid chilluns dan what you is. "Brer Wolf say, 'You can't make gourd out'n punkin, Brer Fox. I ain't no talker. Yo' tongue lots slicker dan mine. I kin bite lots better'n I kin talk. Dem little Rabs don't want no coaxin'; dey wants ketchin' dat what dey wants. You keep ole Brer Rabbit busy, en I'll ten' der de little Rabs.
"What is Bert's secret?" asked Nan's mother. "I don't know yet; he won't tell me." "Yes, I'll tell you to-morrow," said her brother. "But what's this about Father going away, Mother? Are we going too?" "Supper am ready, chilluns!" exclaimed the voice of Dinah, the cook, and that ended the talk about secrets for the time being. "But when are you going to tell me yours?"
Jedge Buzzard, he riz en skimmed long fer ter see dat de race wuz runned fa'r. W'en Brer Rabbit got ter de fus' mile-pos' wunner de Tarrypin chilluns crawl out de woods, he did, en make fer de place. Brer Rabbit, he holler out: "'Whar is you, Brer Tarrypin? "'Yer I come a bulgin', sez de Tarrypin, sezee.
The little boy had no other premature questions to ask, and, after a pause, Uncle Remus resumed: "Well, den, one day Brer Rabbit go ter Brer Fox house, he did, en he put up mighty po' mouf. He say his ole 'oman sick, en his chilluns col', en de fier done gone out. Brer Fox, he feel bad 'bout dis, en he tuck'n s'ply Brer Rabbit widder chunk er fier.
But Brer Wolf he wern't de man fer ter give it up dat away, en he got 'im a spade, en a pick-axe, en a shovel, en he dig en dig fer dat cow twel diggin' wuz pas' all endu'unce, en ole Brer Rabbit he sot up dar in his front po'ch en smoke his seegyar. Eve'y time ole Brer Wolf stuck de pick-axe in de clay, Brer Rabbit, he giggle ter his chilluns: "'He diggy, diggy, diggy, but no meat dar!
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