"
"Dat's w'at I 'low'd. Little more'n he'd a bin aboard er de wrong
waggin. Dat's w'at he'd a bin."
X. A CASE OF MEASLES
"YOU'VE been looking like you were rather under the weather for
the past week or two, Uncle Remus," said a gentleman to the old
man.
"You'd be sorter puny, too, boss, if you'd er bin whar I bin."
"Where have you been?"
"Pear ter me like eve'ybody done year 'bout dat. Dey ain't no ole
nigger my age an' size dat's had no rattliner time dan I is."
"A kind of picnic?"
"Go long, boss! w'at you speck I be doin' sailin' 'roun' ter dese
yer cullud picnics? Much mo' an' I wouldn't make bread by wukkin'
fer't, let 'lone follerin' up a passel er boys an' gals all over
keration. Boss, ain't you year 'bout it, sho' 'nuff?"
"I haven't, really. What was the matter?"
"I got strucken wid a sickness, an' she hit de ole nigger a joe-
darter 'fo' she tu'n 'im loose."
"What kind of sickness?"
"Hit look sorter cu'ous, boss, but ole an' steddy ez I is, I
tuck'n kotch de meezles."
"Oh, get out! You are trying to get up a sensation."
"Hit's a natal fack, boss, I declar' ter grashus ef 'tain't. Dey
sorter come on wid a col', like--leas'ways dat's how I commence
fer ter suffer, an' den er koff got straddle er de col'--one dese
yer koffs w'at look like hit goes ter de foundash'n.
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