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The Sad Fate Of Mr. Fox
by [?]

“Now, den,” said Uncle Remus, with unusual gravity, as soon as the little boy, by taking his seat, announced that he was ready for the evening’s entertainment to begin; “now, den, dish yer tale w’at I’m agwine ter gin you is de las’ row er stumps, sho. Dish yer’s whar ole Brer Fox los’ his breff, en he ain’t fine it no mo’ down ter dis day.”

“Did he kill himself, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked, with a curious air of concern.

“Hol’ on dar, honey!” the old man exclaimed, with a great affectation of alarm; “hol’ on dar! Wait! Gimme room! I don’t wanter tell you no story, en ef you keep shovin’ me forrerd, I mout git some er de facks mix up ‘mong deyse’f. You gotter gimme room en you gotter gimme time.”

The little boy had no other premature questions to ask, and, after a pause, Uncle Remus resumed:

“Well, den, one day Brer Rabbit go ter Brer Fox house, he did, en he put up mighty po’ mouf. He say his ole ‘oman sick, en his chilluns col’, en de fier done gone out. Brer Fox, he feel bad ’bout dis, en he tuck’n s’ply Brer Rabbit widder chunk er fier. Brer Rabbit see Brer Fox cookin’ some nice beef, en his mouf gun ter water, but he take de fier, he did, en he put out to’rds home; but present’y yer he come back, en he say de fier done gone out. Brer Fox ‘low dat he want er invite to dinner, but he don’t say nuthin’, en bimeby Brer Rabbit he up’n say, sezee:

“‘Brer Fox, whar you git so much nice beef?’ sezee, en den Brer Fox he up’n ‘spon’, sezee:

“‘You come ter my house termorrer ef yo’ fokes ain’t too sick, en I kin show you whar you kin git plenty beef mo’ nicer dan dish yer,’ sezee.

“Well, sho nuff, de nex’ day fotch Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox say, sezee:

“‘Der’s a man down yander by Miss Meadows’s w’at got heap er fine cattle, en he gotter cow name Bookay,’ sezee, ‘en you des go en say Bookay, en she’ll open her mouf, en you kin jump in en git des as much meat ez you kin tote,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

“‘Well, I’ll go ‘long,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘en you kin jump fus’ en den I’ll come follerin’ atter,’ sezee.

“Wid dat dey put out, en dey went promernadin’ ‘roun’ ‘mong de cattle, dey did, twel bimeby dey struck up wid de one dey wuz atter. Brer Fox, he up, he did, en holler Bookay, en de cow flung ‘er mouf wide open. Sho nuff, in dey jump, en w’en dey got dar, Brer Fox, he say, sezee:

“‘You kin cut mos’ ennywheres, Brer Rabbit, but don’t cut ‘roun’ de haslett,’ sezee.

“‘Den Brer Rabbit, he holler back, he did: I’m a gitten me out a roas’n-piece,’ sezee.

“‘Roas’n, er bakin’, er fryin’,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ‘don’t git too nigh de haslett,’ sezee.

“Dey cut en dey kyarved, en dey kyarved en dey cut, en w’iles dey wuz cuttin’ en kyarvin’, en slashin’ ‘way, Brer Rabbit, he tuck’n hacked inter de haslett, en wid dat down fell de cow dead.

“‘Now, den,’ sez Brer Fox, ‘we er gone, sho,’ sezee.

“‘W’at we gwine do?’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“‘I’ll git in de maul,’ sez Brer Fox, ‘en you’ll jump in de gall,’ sezee.

“Nex’ mawnin’ yer cum de man w’at de cow b’long ter, and he ax who kill Bookay. Nobody don’t say nuthin’. Den de man say he’ll cut ‘er open en see, en den he whirl in, en twan’t no time ‘fo’ he had ‘er intruls spread out. Brer Rabbit, he crope out’n de gall, en say, sezee:

“‘Mister Man! Oh, Mister Man! I’ll tell you who kill yo’ cow. You look in de maul, en dar you’ll fine ‘im,’ sezee.