“‘How I gwineter git down, Brer Rabbit?’
“’Jump inter de bucket, Brer Fox.
Hit’ll fetch you down all safe en soun’.’
“Brer Rabbit talk so happy en talk so sweet
dat Brer Fox he jump in de bucket, he did, en, ez
he went down, co’se his weight pull Brer Rabbit
up. W’en dey pass one nudder on de half-way
growl’, Brer Rabbit he sing out:
“‘Good-by, Brer Fox, take keer yo’
cloze,
Fer dis is de way de worl’ goes;
Some goes up en some goes down,
You’ll git ter de bottom all safe en soun’.’
1
“W’en Brer Rabbit got out, he gallop off
en tole de fokes w’at de well blong ter dat
Brer Fox wuz down in dar muddyin’ up de drinkin’
water, en den he gallop back ter de well, en holler
down ter Brer Fox:
“’Ye come a man wid a great big gun—W’en
he haul you up, you jump en run."’
“What then, Uncle Remus?” asked the little
boy, as the old man paused.
“In des ’bout half ’n hour, honey,
bofe un um wuz back in de new groun’ wukkin’
des like dey never heer’d er no well, ceppin’
dat eve’y now’n den Brer Rabbit’d
bust out in er laff, en old Brer Fox, he’d git
a spell er de dry grins.”
1 As a Northern friend suggests that this story
may be somewhat
obscure, it may be as well to state
that the well is supposed
to be supplied with a rope over
a wheel, or pulley, with a
bucket at each end.
’"De animils en de creeturs,” said
Uncle Remus, shaking his coffee around in the bottom
of his tin-cup, in order to gather up all the sugar,
‘dey kep’ on gittin’ mo’ en
mo’ familious wid wunner nudder, twel bimeby,
’twan’t long ‘fo’ Brer Rabbit,
en Brer Fox, en Brer Possum got ter sorter bunchin’
der perwishuns tergedder in de same shanty. Atter
w’ile de roof sorter ’gun ter leak, en
one day Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox, en Brer Possum,
’semble fer ter see ef dey can’t kinder
patch her up. Dey had a big day’s work
in front un um, en dey fotch der dinner wid um.
Dey lump de vittles up in one pile, en de butter w’at
Brer Fox brung, dey goes en puts in de spring-’ouse
fer ter keep cool, en den dey went ter wuk, en ’twan’t
long ‘fo’ Brer Rabbit’s stummuck
’gun ter sorter growl en pester ’im.
Dat butter er Brer Fox sot heavy on his mine, en his
mouf water eve’y time he ’member ’bout
it. Present’y he say ter hisse’f dat
he bleedzd ter have a nip at dat butter, en den he
lay his plans, he did. Fus’ news you know,
w’ile dey wuz all wukkin’ long, Brer Rabbit
raise his head quick en fling his years forerd en
holler out:
“‘Here I is. W’at you want
wid me?’ en off he put like sump’n wuz
atter ’im.
“He sallied ‘roun’, ole Brer Rabbit
did, en atter he make sho dat nobody ain’t foller’n
un ’im, inter de spring-’ouse he bounces,
en dar he stays twel he git a bait er butter.
Den he santer on back en go to wuk.
