. Highways and byways of the South. ch please if yo come wid me an dine, suh ! An de turkle say, I bleedged to yo. Brer Duck,but how I git over de river ? I caint fly, needer canI swim ; for in dem days de turkle always live on deIan. Den de Duck say : Dat make no difrunce. BrerTurkle. Yo jus hoi onto my feet an I fly crosswid you. So de turkle say he will, an he take hoi an de duckgo flap, flap, takin de turkle along wid him. But deduck, he aint raelly want de turkle to his dinner, anhe wait till he git to de middle er de river, an den hegive hissef a shake an drap de turkle splash into dewat
. Highways and byways of the South. ch please if yo come wid me an dine, suh ! An de turkle say, I bleedged to yo. Brer Duck,but how I git over de river ? I caint fly, needer canI swim ; for in dem days de turkle always live on deIan. Den de Duck say : Dat make no difrunce. BrerTurkle. Yo jus hoi onto my feet an I fly crosswid you. So de turkle say he will, an he take hoi an de duckgo flap, flap, takin de turkle along wid him. But deduck, he aint raelly want de turkle to his dinner, anhe wait till he git to de middle er de river, an den hegive hissef a shake an drap de turkle splash into dewater, an de turkle done been in de water ever since. A Quest for Tar 305 My mother say dey not tell dese stories so muchnow as in de ole times befo de wah. In dose daysde chillen thought dey was de best stories in de worlan reckoned em equal to Santa Claus an chillen was always ready to listen, she say, an yowont fin any pusson, white or black, what beenraised in de Souf but know all bout Brer Rabbit ande udder On a Trail When the little colored boy and I left the pleasanthollow where we had been lingering, listening to thestories of the tar-kiln burner, the afternoon was far 3o6 Highways and Byways of the South spent and the air was growing cool. Our entertainertramped away with his gun and dogs back to his tarworks, and we went in the opposite direction across thewoodland ruins to the main road. Shortly after wereached that sandy thoroughfare, the boy turned asideto go to his home and I continued on alone. Once Ipaused long enough to pull off a pocketful of fruitfrom the drooping branches of a persimmon trees were plentiful. They were rather slenderand graceful and attained a height of about twentyfeet. The ripe yellow fruit with its slight flush of redlooked like small smooth tomatoes. Unless perfectlyripe the persimmons pucker the mouth, or, to use theSouthern expression, They are rough and tongue-tie you. But at their best they are sweet an
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Keywords: ., bookauthorjohnsonc, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1904
