Joel Chandler Harris

“ The next time the little boy got permission to call upon Uncle Remus, the old man was sitting in his door, with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands, and he appeared to be in great trouble. ”

“ En, fuddermo’, I know dat ’tain’t proned inter no dogs fer ter ketch de rabbit w’at use in a berryin’-groun’. Dey er de mos’ ongodlies’ creeturs w’at you ever laid eyes on,” continued Uncle Remus, with unction. “Down dar in Putmon County yo’ Unk Jeems, he make like he gwineter ketch wunner dem dar graveyard rabbits. ”

“ Bimeby, yer come a big black dog snuffin’ roun’, en de nigger up wid a chunk en lammed ’im side er de head. Den a squinch-owl lit on de koam er de house, en de nigger jam de shovel in de fier en make ’im flew away. Las’, yer come a great big black wolf wid his eyes shinin’ like fier coals, en he grab de hide and rush out. ’Twa’n’t long ’fo’ de nigger year his brer holler’n en squallin’, en he tuck a light, he did, en went out, en dar wuz his brer des a waller’n on de groun’ en squirmin’ ’roun’, kaze de salt on de skin wuz stingin’ wuss’n ef he had his britches lineded wid yallerjackets. ”