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mind dat. Brer Rabbit sorter dance up 'long side er de fence, he did, en holler out: "Howdy, Sis Cow,

sez Brer Rabbit,

sezee.

W’y, howdy, Brer Rabbit,' sez Miss Cow,

sez she.

" How you fine yo’se'f deze days, Sis Cow ? ' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“I'm sorter toler'ble, Brer Rabbit ; how you come on ? 'sez Miss Cow, sez she.

“Oh, I'm des toler’ble myse'f, Sis Cow; sorter linger'n' twix' a bauk en a break-down,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

'How yo’ fokes, Brer Rabbit ?' sez Miss Cow, sez she.

Dey er des middlin', Sis Cow ; how Brer Bull gittin' on ?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. “"Sorter so-so,' sez Miss Cow, sez she. Dey er some mighty nice 'simmons

up

dis tree, Sis Cow,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘en I'd like mighty well fer ter have some un um,'

sezee.

“How you gwineter git um, Brer Rabbit ? sez she.

" I 'low'd maybe dat I might ax you fer ter butt 'gin de tree, en shake some down, Sis Cow,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

"C'ose Miss Cow don't wanter diskommerdate Brer Rabbit, en she march up ter de 'simmon' tree, she did, en hit it a rap wid'er hawns-blam! Now, den," continued Uncle Remus, tearing off a corner of the plug of tobacco and cramming it into his mouth—"now, den, dem 'simmons wuz green as grass, en na'er one never drap. Den Miss Cow butt de treeblim! Na'er 'simmon drap. Den Miss Cow sorter back off little, en run agin de tree-blip! No 'simmons never drap. Den Miss Cow back oft little fudder, she did, en hi’st her tail on 'er back, en come agin de tree kerblam! en she come so fas', en she come so hard, twel wunner her hawns went spang thoo de tree, en dar she wuz. She can't go forreds, en she can't go backerds. Dis zackly w'at Brer Rabbit waitin' fer, en he no sooner seed ole Miss Cow all fas’en'd up dan he jump up, he did, en cut de pidjin-wing.

“Come he'p me out, Brer Rabbit,' sez Miss Cow, sez she.

“ I can't clime, Sis Cow,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, “but I'll run'n tell Brer Bull,' sezee; en wid dat Brer Rabbit put out fer home, en 'twan't long 'fo here he come wid his ole 'oman en all his chiiluns, en de las' wunner de fambly wuz totin' a pail. De big uns had big pails, en de little uns had little pails. En dey all s'roundid ole Miss Cow, dey did, en you hear me, honey, dey milk't 'er dry. De ole uns milk't en the young uns milk't, en den w'en dey done got nuff, Brer Rabbit, he up'n say, sezee :

“I wish you mighty well, Sis Cow. I 'low'd bein's how dat you'd hatter sorter camp out all night dat I'd better come en swaje yo’ bag,' sezee.”

“ Do which, Uncle Remus?" asked the little boy.

“Go 'long, honey! Swaje 'er bag. W'en cows don't git milk't, der bag swells, en youk'n hear um a moanin' en a beller'n des like dey wuz gittin' hurtid. Dat's wat Brer Rabbit done. He 'sembled his fambly, he did, en he swaje ole Miss Cow's bag.

Miss Cow, she stood dar, she did, en she study en study, en strive fur ter break loose, but de hawn done bin jam in de tree so tight

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