Hit's wunner deze yer jobs
w'at las's a long time."
The Savannah negro went off after his rice-birds, while Uncle
Remus leaned up against the wall and laughed until he was in
imminent danger of falling down from sheer exhaustion.
*1 Underneath.
*2 Mouthful.
TURNIP SALAD AS A TEXT
As Uncle Remus was going down the street recently he was
accosted by several acquaintances.
"Heyo!" said one, "here comes Uncle Remus. He look like he gwine
fer ter set up a bo'din-house."
Several others bantered the old man, but he appeared to be in a
good humor. He was carrying a huge basket of vegetables.
"How many er you boys," said he, as he put his basket down, "is
done a han's turn dis day? En yit de week's done commence. I year
talk er niggers dat's got money in de bank, but I lay hit ain't
none er you fellers. Whar you speck you gwineter git yo' dinner,
en how you speck you gwineter git 'long?"
"Oh, we sorter knocks 'roun' an' picks up a livin'," responded
one.
"Dat's w'at make I say w'at I duz," said Uncle Remus. "Fokes go
'bout in de day-time an' makes a livin', an' you come 'long w'en
dey er res'in' der bones an' picks it up. I ain't no han' at
figgers, but I lay I k'n count up right yer in de san' en number
up how menny days hit'll be 'fo' you 'er cuppled on ter de chain-
gang.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193