“‘Dey ain’t no water nigh,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’en now I speck I’ll hatter skin you,’ sezee.

“‘Skin me, Brer Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’snatch out my eyeballs, t’ar out my years by de roots, en cut off my legs,’ sezee, ’but do please, Brer Fox, don’t fling me in dat brier-patch,’ sezee.

“Co’se Brer Fox wanter hurt Brer Rabbit bad ez he kin, so he cotch ’im by de behime legs en slung ’im right in de middle er de brier-patch.  Dar wuz a considerbul flutter whar Brer Rabbit struck de bushes, en Brer Fox sorter hang ‘roun’ fer ter see w’at wuz gwineter happen.  Bimeby he hear somebody call ’im, en way up de hill he see Brer Rabbit settin’ crosslegged on a chinkapin log koamin’ de pitch outen his har wid a chip.  Den Brer Fox know dat he bin swop off mighty bad.  Brer Rabbit wuz bleedzed fer ter fling back some er his sass, en he holler out: 

“’Bred en bawn in a brier-patch, Brer Fox—­bred en bawn in a brier-patch!’ en wid dat he skip out des ez lively ez a cricket in de embers.”

V. THE STORY OF THE DELUGE AND HOW IT CAME ABOUT

“One time,” said Uncle Remus—­adjusting his spectacles so as to be able to see how to thread a large darning-needle with which he was patching his coat—­“one time, way back yander, ‘fo’ you wuz bomed, honey, en ‘fo’ Mars John er Miss Sally wuz bomed—­way back yander ‘fo’ enny un us wuz bomed, de animils en de creeturs sorter ‘lecshuneer roun’ ‘mong deyselves, twel at las’ dey ’greed fer ter have a ’sembly.  In dem days,” continued the old man, observing a look of incredulity on the little boy’s face, “in dem days creeturs had lots mo’ sense dan dey got now; let ’lone dat, dey had sense same like folks.  Hit was tech en go wid um, too, mon, en w’en dey make up der mines w’at hatter be done, ’twant mo’n menshun’d ’fo, hit wuz done.  Well, dey ’lected dat dey hatter hol’ er ’sembly fer ter sorter straighten out marters en hear de complaints, en w’en de day come dey wuz on han’.  De Lion, he wuz dar, kase he wuz de king, en he hatter be der.  De Rhynossyhoss, he wuz dar, en de Elephant, he wuz dar, en de Cammils, en de Cows, en plum’ down ter de Crawfishes, dey wuz dar.  Dey wuz all dar.  En w’en de Lion shuck his mane, en tuck his seat in de big cheer, den de sesshun begun fer ter commence.

“What did they do, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.

“I can’t skacely call to mine ’zackly w’at dey did do, but dey spoke speeches, en hollered, en cusst, en flung der langwidge ‘roun’ des like w’en yo’ daddy wuz gwineter run fer de legislater en got lef’.  Howsomever, dey ’ranged der ’fairs, en splained der bizness.  Bimeby, w’ile dey wuz ‘sputin’ ’longer one er nudder, de Elephant trompled on one er de Crawfishes.  Co’se w’en dat creetur put his foot down, w’atsumever’s under dar wuz boun’ fer ter be squshed, en dey wa’n’t nuff er dat Crawfish lef’ fer ter tell dat he’d bin dar.

“Dis make de udder Crawfishes mighty mad, en dey sorter swarmed tergedder en draw’d up a kinder peramble wid some wharfo’es in it, en read her out in de ’sembly.  But, bless grashus! sech a racket wuz a gwine on dat nobody ain’t hear it, ‘ceppin’ maybe de Mud Turkle en de Spring Lizzud, en dere enfloons wuz pow’ful lackin’.