UNCLE REMUS was enlightening a crowd of negroes at the
Dar aint nuthin, said the old man, shaking his head pensively,
dat aint got no change wrote on it. Dar aint nothin dat aint
spotted befo hit begins fer ter commence. We all speunces dat
poverdence wat lifts us up fum one place an sets us down in de
udder. Hits continerly a movin an a movin.
Dats so! Youer talkin now! came from several of his hearers.
I year Miss Sally readin dis mawnin, continued the old man, dat
a man wuz comin down yer fer ter take keer er de wedderwunner
deze yer Buro mens wat goes roun a puttin up an pullin down.
Wat he gwine do roun yer? asked one.
Hes a gwineter regelate de wedder, replied Uncle Remus,
sententiously. Hes a gwineter fix hit up so dat dere wont be so
much worriment mong de wite fokes bout de kinder wedder wat
falls to dere lot.
He gwine dish em up, suggested one of the older ones like man
dish out sugar.
No, answered Uncle Remus, mopping his benign features with a
very large and very red bandana. Hes a gwineter fix urn bettern
dat. Hes a gwineter fix urn up so you kin have any kinder wedder
wat you want widout totin her home.
Hows dat? asked some one.
Hits dis way, said the old man, thoughtfully. In cose you knows
wat kinder wedder you wants. Well, den, wen de man comes long,
wich Miss Sally say he will, you des gotter go up dar, pick out yo
wedder an derell be a clock sot fer ter suit yo case, an wen you
git home, derell be yo wedder a settin out in de yard waitin fer
you. I wish he wuz yer now, the old man continued. Td take a par
er frosts in mine, ef I kotched cold fer it. Dats me!
There were various exclamations of assent, and the old man went
on his way singing, Dont you Grieve Atter Me.