in it wid der han's. Dem wuz de niggers, en down ter dis day dey
ain't no w'ite 'bout a nigger 'ceppin de pa'ms er der han's en de
soles er der foot."
The little boy seemed to be very much interested in this new
account of the origin of races, and he made some further
inquiries, which elicited from Uncle Remus the following
additional particulars:
"De Injun en de Chinee got ter be 'counted 'long er de merlatter.
I ain't seed no Chinee dat I knows un, but dey tells me dey er
sorter 'twix' a brown en a brindle. Dey er all merlatters."
"But mamma says the Chinese have straight hair," the little boy
suggested.
"Co'se, honey," the old man unhesitatingly responded, "dem
w'at git ter de pon' time nuff fer ter git der head in de water,
de water hit onkink der ha'r. Hit bleedzd ter be dat away."
XXXIV. THE SAD FATE OF MR. FOX
"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
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