Joel Chandler Harris

“ Den dey commence gittin’ thinner en thinner, en den atter w’ile we hear skummishin’ in de naberhood er Armer’s fe’y, en Ole Miss ’low how dat wuz Wheeler’s men makin’ persoot. Mars Jeems wuz wid dem Wheeler fellers, en I know’d ef dey wuz dat close I wa’n’t doin’ no good settin’ ’roun’ de house toas’n my shins at de fier, so I des tuck Mars Jeems’s rifle fum behime de do’ en put out ter look atter my stock.
“Seem like I ain’t never see no raw day like dat, needer befo’ ner sence. Dey wa’n’t no rain, but de wet des sifted down; mighty raw day. ”

“ Well, den, it ’uz right long in dere whar Mars Jeems lived, en whar he live now. When de war come long he wuz livin’ dere longer Ole Miss en Miss Sally. Ole Miss ’uz his ma, en Miss Sally dar ’uz his sister. De war come des like I tell you, en marters sorter rock along same like dey allers did. Hit didn’t strike me dat dey wuz enny war gwine on, en ef I hadn’t sorter miss de nabers, en seed fokes gwine outer de way fer ter ax de news, I’d a ’lowed ter myse’f dat de war wuz ’way off ’mong some yuther country. ”

“ En den atter dat, me en Miss Sally tuck en nuss de man right straight along. He los’ one arm in dat tree bizness, but me en Miss Sally we nuss ’im en we nuss ’im twel he done got well. Des ’bout dat time I quit nuss’n ’im, but Miss Sally she kep’ on. She kep’ on,” continued Uncle Remus, pointing to Mr. Huntingdon, “en now dar he is.”
“But you cost him an arm,” exclaimed Miss Theodosia.
“I gin ’im dem,” said Uncle Remus, pointing to Mrs. Huntingdon, “en I gin ’im deze”—holding up his own brawny arms. “En ef dem ain’t nuff fer enny man den I done los’ de way.” ”

“ Sez I ter myse’f, sez I: ‘Honey, youer right on my route, en I’ll des see w’at kinder bird you got roostin’ in you,’ en w’iles I wuz a lookin’ out bus’ de smoke—piff! en den—bang! Wid dat I des drapt back inter de woods, en sorter skeerted ’roun’ so’s ter git de tree ’twixt’ me en de road. I slid up putty close, en wadder you speck I see? Des ez sho’s youer settin’ dar lissenin’ dey wuz a live Yankee up dar in dat tree, en he wuz a loadin’ en a shootin’ at de boys des ez cool es a cowcumber in de jew, en he had his hoss hitch out in de bushes, kaze I year de creetur tromplin’ ’roun’. ”

“ While they were thus engaged, Uncle Remus came around the corner of the house, talking to himself.
“Dey er too lazy ter wuk,” he was saying, “en dey specks hones’ fokes fer ter stan’ up en s’port um. I’m gwine down ter Putmon County whar Mars Jeems is—dat’s w’at I’m agwine ter do.” ”

“ De Yankees, dey er done got ter Madison en Mounticellar, en ’twon’t be many days ’fo’ dey er down yer. ’Tain’t likely dey’ll pester mother ner sister; but, daddy, ef de wus come ter de wus, I speck you ter take keer un um,’ sezee. ”