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IDN'T the fox never catch the rabbit, uncle Remus?”
asked the little boy the next evening. “He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho's you bawn-brer fox did. One day after brer rabbit fool him wid dat calamus root, brer fox went ter wuk en got 'im some tar, en mix it wid some turkentime, en fix up a contrapshun what he call a tar-baby, en he tuck dish yere tar-baby en he sot 'er in de big road, en den he lay off in de bushes fer ter see wat de news wuz gwineter be. En he didn't hatter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby here come brer rabbit pacin' down de road—lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity-dez ez sassy ez a jay-bird. Brer fox, he lay low. Brer rabbit come prancin' 'long twel he spy de tar-baby, en den he fotch up on his behime legs like he wuz 'stonished. De tar-baby, she sot dar, she did, en brer fox, he lay low.
“Mawnin'!' sez brer rabbit, sezee; 'nice wedder dis mawnin',' sezee.
Tar-baby ain't sayin' nuthin', en brer fox, he lay low.
“How duz zo’sym'tums seem ter segashuate ?' sez brer. rabbit, sezée.
“Brer fox, he wink his eye slow, en lay low, en de tarbaby, she ain't sayin' nuthin'.
“How you come on, den? Is you deaf?' sez brer rabbit, sezee; 'kaze if you is, I kin holler louder,' sezee.
“Tar-baby stay still, en brer fox, he lay low.
"Youer stuck up, dat's w'at you is,' says brer rabbit, sezee, 'en I'm gwineter kyore you, dat's w'at I'm a gwineter do,' sezee.
Brer fox, he sorter chuckle in his stummuck, he did, but tar-baby ain't sayin' nuthin'.
“I'm gwineter larn you howter talk ter 'specttubble fokes ef hit's de las' ack,' sez brer rabbit, sezee. *Ef you don't take off dat hat en tell me howdy, I'm gwineter bus' you wide open,' sezee.
"Tar-baby stay still, en brer fox, he lay low.
“Brer rabbit keep on axin' 'im, en de tar-baby, she keep on sayin' nuthin' twel presently brer rabbit draw back wid his fis', he did, en blip he tuck ’er side er de head. Right dar's whar he broke his merlasses jug. His fis' struck, en he can't pull loose. De tar hilt ’im.
“But tar-baby, she stay still, en brer fox, he lay low.
"Ef you don't lemme loose, I'll knock you agin,' sez brer rabbit, sezee, en wid dat he fotch 'er a wipe wid de udder han', en dat stuck. Tar-baby, she ain't sayin' nuthin', en brer fox, he lay low.
"Tu'n me loose, fo' I kick de natal stuffin' outen you,' sez brer rabbit, sezee, but de tar-baby, she ain't sayin' nuthin'. She des hilt on, en den brer rabbit lose de use er his feet in de same way.
“Brer fox, he lay low. Den brer rabbit squall out dat ef de tar-baby don't tu'n 'im loose he butter cranksided. - En' den he butted, en his head got stuck. Den brer fox, he santered fort, lookin' des ez innercent" ez wunner yo’ mammy's mockin'-birds.
“Howdy, brer rabbit,' sez brer fox, sezee. • You look sorter stuck
up dis mawnin', sezee, en den he rolled on de groun', en laft twel he couldn't laff no mo'. 'I 'speck you'll take dinner wid me dis time, brer rabbit. I done laid in some calamus root, en I ain't gwineter take no skuse,' sez brer fox, sezee."
Here Uncle Remus paused, and drew a two-pound yam out of the ashes.
“Did the fox eat the rabbit ?” asked the little boy to whom the story had been told.
“ Dat's all de fur de tale goes," replied the old man. “ Hé mout, en den agin he moutent. Some say Jedge B’ar come along èn loosed ’im—some say he didn't. I hear Miss Sally callin'. You better run 'long.”
Joel Chandler Harris.
any one else.
became necessary for some one in the office in which I was engaged to go to St. Louis to attend to important business. Everything seemed to point to me as the fit person, for I understood the particular business better than
I felt that I ought to go, but I did not altogether like to do it. I went home, and Euphemia and I talked over the matter far into the regulation sleeping hours.
There were very good reasons why we should go (for of course I would not think of taking such a journey without Euphemia). In the first place it would be of advantage to me, in my business connection, to take the trip, and then it would be such a charming journey for us.
We had never been west of the Alleghanies, and nearly all the country we would see would be new to us. We would come home by the great lakes and Niagara, and the prospect was delightful to both of us. But then we would have to leave Rudder Grange for at least three weeks, and how could we do that?
This was indeed a difficult question to answer. Who could take care of our garden, our poultry, our horse and cow, and all their complicated belongings? The garden was in admirable condition. Our vegetables were coming in every day in just that fresh and satisfactory conditionaltogether unknown to people who buy vegetables—for which I had laboured so faithfully, and about which I had had so many cheerful anticipations. As to Euphemia's chicken-yard, with Euphemia away,--the subject was too great for us. We did not even discuss it. But we would give up all the pleasures of our home for the chance of this most desirable excursion, if we could but think of some one who would come and take care of the place while we were gone. Rudder Grange could not run itself for three weeks.
We thought of every available person. Old John would not do. We did not feel that we could trust him. We thought of several of our friends; but there was, in both our minds, a certain shrinking from the idea of handing over the place to any of them for such a length of time. For my part, I said, I would rather leave Pomona in charge than any one else; but then, Pomona was young and a girl. Euphemia agreed with me that she would rather trust her than any one else, but she also agreed in regard to the disqualifications. So when I went to the office the next morning, we had fully determined to go on the trip, if we could find some one to take charge of our place while we were gone.
When I returned from the office in the afternoon I had agreed to go to St. Louis. By this time I had