Uncle Remus and Brer Rabbit

Joel Chandler Harris

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“Once ’pon a time,” said Uncle Remus to the little boy—“But when was once upon a time?” the child interrupted to ask. The old man smiled. “I speck ’twuz one time er two times, er maybe a time an’ a half. You know when Johnny Ashcake ’gun ter bake? Well, ’twuz ’long in dem days. Once ’pon a time,” he resumed, “Mr. Man had a gyarden so fine dat all de neighbors come ter see it. Some ’ud look at it over de fence, some ’ud peep thoo de cracks, an’ some ’ud come an’ look at it by de light er de stars. An’ one un um wuz ol’ Brer Rabbit; starlight, moonlight, cloudlight, de nightlight wuz de light fer him. When de turn er de mornin’ come, he ’uz allers up an’ about, an’ a-feelin’ purty well I thank you, suh! “Now, den, you done hear what I say. Dar wuz Mr. Man, yander wuz de gyarden, an’ here wuz ol’ Brer Rabbit.” Uncle Remus made a map of this part of the story by marking in the sand with his walking-cane. “Well, dis bein’ de case, what you speck gwineter happen? Nothin’ in de roun’ worl’ but what been happenin’ sence greens an’ sparrer-grass wuz planted in de groun’. Dey look fine an’ dey tas’e fine, an’ long to’rds de shank er de mornin’, Brer Rabbit ’ud creep thoo de crack er de fence an’ nibble at um. He’d take de greens, but leave his tracks, mo’ speshually right atter a rain. Takin’ an’ leavin’—it’s de way er de worl’. “Well, one mornin’, Mr. Man went out in his truck patch, an’ he fin’ sump’n missin’—a cabbage here, a turnip dar, an’ a mess er beans yander, an’ he ax how come dis? He look ’roun’, he did, an’ he seed Brer Rabbit’s tracks what he couldn’t take wid ’im. Brer Rabbit had lef’ his shoes at home, an’ come bar’footed. “So Mr. Man, he call his dogs ‘Here, Buck! Here, Brinjer! Here, Blue!’ an’ he sicc’d um on de track, an’ here dey went! “You’d ’a’ thunk dey wuz runnin’ atter forty-lev’m rhinossyhosses fum de fuss dey made. Brer Rabbit he hear um comin’ an’ he put out fer home, kinder doublin’ ’roun’ des like he do deze days. “When he got ter de p’int whar he kin set down fer ter rest his face an’ han’s, he tuck a poplar leaf an’ ’gun ter fan hisse’f. Den Brer Fox come a-trottin’ up. He say, ‘Brer Rabbit, what’s all dis fuss I hear in de woods? What de name er goodness do it mean?’ Brer Rabbit kinder scratch his head an’ ’low, ‘Why, deyer tryin’ fer drive me ter de big bobbycue on de creek. Dey all ax me, an’ when I ’fuse dey say deyer gwine ter make me go any how. Dey aint no fun in bein’ ez populous ez what I is, Brer Fox. Ef you wanter go, des git in ahead er de houn’s an’ go lickity-split down de big road!’