Dey tells me dish yer train goes a
callyhootin'."
"Hol' on dar, Uncle Remus; you ain't tell me 'bout Jim,"
exclaimed the Jonesboro negro.
"I done tell you all I knows, chile. Jim, he tuck'n light on de
mule, an' de mule she up'n hump 'erse'f, an den dey wuz a
skuffle, an' w'en de dus' blow 'way, dar lay de nigger on de
groun', an' de mule she stood eatin' at de troff wid wunner Jim's
gallusses wrop 'roun' her behime-leg. Den atterwuds, de ker'ner,
he come 'roun', an' he tuck'n gin it out dat Jim died sorter
accidental like. Hit's des like I tell you: de nigger wern't sick
a minnit. So long! Bimeby you won't ketch yo' train. I got ter be
knockin' long."
II. UNCLE REMUS'S CHURCH EXPERIENCE
THE deacon of a colored church met Uncle Remus recently, and,
after some uninteresting remarks about the weather, asked:
"How dis you don't come down ter chu'ch no mo', Brer Remus? We
er bin er havin' some mighty 'freshen' times lately."
"Hit's bin a long time sence I bin down dar, Brer Rastus, an'
hit'll be longer. I done got my dose."
"You ain't done gone an' unjined, is you, Brer Remus?"
"Not zackly, Brer Rastus. I des tuck'n draw'd out. De members 'uz
a blame sight too mutuel fer ter suit my doctrines.
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