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"Mars Jeems 'lowed atterwa'ds dat he wuz des shootin' in de da'k w'en he said dat 'bout de books, but howsomeber, Mars Nick Johnson lef dat naberhood 'twix' de nex' two suns, en nobody roun' dere nebber seed hide ner hair un 'im sence. En all de darkies t'ank de Lawd, en 'lowed it wuz a good riddance er bad rubbage.
"'I'm sorter toler'ble, Brer Rabbit; how you come on? sez Miss Cow, sez she. "'Oh, I'm des toler'ble myse'f, Sis Cow; sorter linger'n' twix' a bauk en a break-down, sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. "'How yo' fokes, Brer Rabbit? sez Miss Cow, sez she. "'Dey er des middlin', Sis Cow; how Brer Bull gittin' on? sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. "'Sorter so-so, sez Miss Cow, sez she.
I ain't seed no Chinee dat I knows un, but dey tells me dey er sorter 'twix' a brown en a brindle. Dey er all merlatters." "But mamma says the Chinese have straight hair," the little boy suggested. "Co'se, honey," the old man unhesitatingly responded, "dem w'at git ter de pon' time nuff fer ter git der head in de water, de water hit onkink der ha'r. Hit bleedzd ter be dat away."
"He got 'im some sticks, an' he nailt 'em cross'n 'is do' same ez er plank-fence, only he lef' space 'nuff twix' de bottom stick an' de nex' one fur er bird ter git thu; den, stid er nailin' de stick nex' de bottom, he tuck'n prope it up at one een wid er little chip fur ter hole it, an' den jes res' tudder een 'gins de side er de nes'. Soon's eber he done dat, he crawlt out thu de crack mighty kyeerful, I tell yer, caze he wuz fyeared he mout er knock de stick down, an' git his own se'f cotch in de trap; so yer hyeard me, mum, he crawlt thu mighty tick'ler.
"Brer Rabbit, he sot down sorter keerless like, en begin fer ter scratch one year like a man studyin' 'bout sump'n. "'Dat's so, Brer Fox, sezee, 'you duz look sorter stove up. Look like sump'n bin onkoamin' yo' ha'rs, sezee. "Brer Fox ain't sayin' nothin', but Brer Rabbit, he keep on talkin': "'Dey ain't no bad feelin's 'twix' us, is dey, Brer Fox?
"Missy," he said, gravely, "Dey big trouble 'twix' dem two." "I know," she returned quietly. "What is it?" "Wha' fo' you ax me, Missy?" "Because you're the only one I can ask. I don't know anyone here well enough, except you." Nelson's lips puckered solemnly. "Mist' Vanrevel vote Whig; but he ag'in Texas." "Well, what if he is?" "Yo' pa mighty strong fo' Texas."
Well, well, well! we folks all gwine be 'vided up 'twix Mars Harry an' Mars Phil, 'cause ole Mars, he not long for dis world! Bless de Lord, whinsoever it please Him for to teck ole Mars to hisself, I trus' he gwine 'vide off Jerry to Mars Harry's shere, 'cause I nachally ain't got no use for t'other one he too outlondesh." So saying, he rose and reached his bucket from the bough where it hung.
"Don't let's hev another 'thout somethin' between," said Dan; and the accordion struck up a rattling, catchy tune that ended: "It's six an' twenty Sundays sence las' we saw the land, With fifteen hunder quintal, An' fifteen hunder quintal, 'Teen hunder toppin' quintal, 'Twix' old 'Queereau an' Grand!" "Hold on!" roared Tom Platt. "D'ye want to nail the trip, Dan?
Oh, de Big Bethel chu'ch! de Big Bethel chu'ch, Done put ole Satun behine am; Ef a sinner git loose fum enny udder chu'ch De Big Bethel chu'ch will fine um! DAR'S a pow'ful rassle 'twix de Good en de Bad, En de Bad's got de all under holt; En w'en de wuss come, she come i'on-clad, En you hatter hol' yo' bref for de jolt.
He had walked the whole len'th o' the road 'twix' the farm an' the school-house, an' they warn't no bulge in it; an' besides, he hadn't never saw over the edges of it. An' with that teacher he give him another check for speakin' out o' turn. An' then Sonny, says he, "Ef a man was tall enough he could see around the edges, couldn't he?"
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