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Updated: June 28, 2025
But me and Hop's got a tortus as is a wunner, guv'nor. A heap better nor Peter. Poor old Peter! he's dead and gone. Be sure of that. This 'ere's a reg'lar bad road. A prize-winner, warn't 'e, Hoppy?" They held up the prize-winner, who was not a tortoise, and was mangy. "Look here, my boys, you can take her away. Now, be off. Quick march!" "Yer don't want it, guv'nor. Jest think agin.
Our folks are slow to fratch, but they're not quick at letting go," said Tom, who paused and added: "I wunner where Bell got his money; he had none when he took a job at mill in oad Osborn's time." This started Kit on another line of thought. Bell had, no doubt, saved something, for he was parsimonious, and was too keen a business man to leave his money in the bank.
Dey sot down by de side er de big road, en dar dey jabber en confab 'mong wunner nudder, twel bimeby old Brer Possum, he take 'n tell Brer Rabbit dat he mos' pe'sh out, en Brer Rabbit, he lip up in de a'r, he did, en smack his han's tergedder, en say dat he know right whar Brer Possum kin git a bait er 'simmons.
She went off acrass the moors that way." Mr. Crows pointed an indifferent whip into the blackness which rested like a pall between the white road and the distant roaring sea. "She was a wunner to go, too out of sight in a moment, she was." "Thank you. I'll get down here, too."
"I year Miss Sally readin' dis mawnin," continued the old man, "dat a man wuz comin' down yer fer ter take keer er de wedder wunner deze yer Buro mens w'at goes 'roun' a puttin' up an' pullin' down." "W'at he gwine do 'roun' yer?" asked one. "He's a gwineter regelate de wedder," replied Uncle Remus, sententiously.
You all take keer er dat ar een', sezee, 'en I'll take keer er dish yer een', sezee. "Den dey all put out en lef' Brer Tarrypin at de branch, en w'en dey got good en gone, he dove down inter de water, he did, en tie de bed-cord hard en fas' ter wunner deze yer big clay-roots, en den he riz up en gin a whoop.
"I saw Eben Megg," said the lad. "And he's about the worst on 'em, Master Aleck. Well, it strikes me his games are up for a bit. He's a wunner to fight, and he'll stick to his mates; but they won't beat the press-gang off, for when they want men and it comes to a fight it's the sailors who win. Well, it'd do young Megg good. He's too much of a bully and rough 'un for me.
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.
"He's a wunner at shying. He can hit anything with a stone. I've seen him knock over a bird afore now, and when he gets off in the fields of an evening I've often knowed him bring back a rabbit." "What does he do with it?" "Do with it! Come, there's a good 'un. Cook it down in the shed, and eat it. He'd eat a'most anything. But don't you mind him.
"Yes, Uncle Moses, I am going to Washington first," replied Corona. "Lors! I hear tell how so many folkses do go to Washintub! Wunner wot dey go for? in de winter, too! Lors! Well, honey, I wish yer a mighty fine time and a handsome husban' afore yer comes home. Lor' bress yer, young mist'ess!" "Thank you, Uncle Moses. Here is a trifle for you," said Cora, putting a half eagle in his hand.
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