“Brer Rabbit, he sot down sorter keerless like, en begin fer ter scratch one year like a man studyin’ ’bout sump’n.

“‘Dat’s so, Brer Fox,’ sezee, ’you duz look sorter stove up.  Look like sump’n bin onkoamin’ yo’ ha’rs,’ sezee.

“Brer Fox ain’t sayin’ nothin’, but Brer Rabbit, he keep on talkin’: 

“’Dey ain’t no bad feelin’s ‘twix’ us, is dey, Brer Fox?  Kaze ef dey is, I ain’t got no time fer ter be tarryin’ ‘roun’ yer.’

“Brer Fox say w’ich he don’t have no onfrennelness, en wid dat Brer Rabbit cut Brer Fox loose des in time fer ter hear Mr. Man w’isserlin up his dogs, en one went one way en de udder went nudder.”

XXX.  HOW MR. RABBIT SUCCEEDED IN RAISING A DUST

“In dem times,” said Uncle Remus, gazing admiringly at himself in a fragment of looking-glass, “Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox, en Brer Coon, en dem yuther creeturs go co’tin’ en sparklin’ ‘roun’ de naberhood mo’ samer dan folks.  ’Twan’t no ‘Lemme a hoss,’ ner ‘Fetch me my buggy,’ but dey des up’n lit out en tote deyse’f.  Dar’s ole Brer Fox, he des wheel ‘roun’ en fetch his flank one swipe wid ’is tongue en he’d be koam up; en Brer Rabbit, he des spit on his han’ en twis’ it ‘roun’ ’mongst de roots er his years en his ha’r’d be roach.  Dey wuz dat flirtashus,” continued the old man, closing one eye at his image in the glass, “dat Miss Meadows en de gals don’t se no peace fum one week een’ ter de udder.  Chuseday wuz same as Sunday, en Friday wuz same as Chuseday, en hit come down ter dat pass dat w’en Miss Meadows ’ud have chicken-fixin’s fer dinner, in ’ud drap Brer Fox en Brer Possum, en w’en she’d have fried greens in ’ud pop ole Brer Rabbit, twel las’ Miss Meadows, she tuck’n tell de gals dat she be dad-blame ef she gwineter keep no tavvum.  So dey fix it up ‘mong deyse’f, Miss Meadows en de gals did, dat de nex’ time de gents call dey’d gin um a game.  De gents, dey wuz a co’tin, but Miss Meadows, she don’t wanter marry none un um, en needer duz de gals, en likewise dey don’t wanter have um pester’n ‘roun.’  Las’, one Chuseday, Miss Meadows, she tole um dat ef dey come down ter her house de nex’ Sat’day evenin’, de whole caboodle on um ’ud go down de road a piece, whar der wuz a big flint rock, en de man w’at could take a sludge-hammer en knock de dus’ out’n dat rock, he wuz de man w’at ’ud git de pick er de gals.  Dey all say dey gwine do it, but ole Brer Rabbit, he crope off whar der wuz a cool place under some jimson weeds, en dar he sot wukkin his mind how he gwineter git dus’ out’n dat rock.  Bimeby, w’ile he wuz a settin’ dar, up he jump en crack his heels tergedder en sing out: 

“’Make a bow ter de Buzzard en den ter de Crow, Takes a limber-toe gemmun fer ter jump Jim Crow,’

“en wid dat he put out for Brer Coon house en borrer his slippers.  W’en Sat’day evenin’ come, dey wuz all dere.  Miss Meadows en de gals, dey wuz dere; en Brer Coon, en Brer Fox, en Brer Possum, en Brer Tarrypin, dey wuz dere.”