Standard Selections Part 54

Mr. c.o.o.n he say, "Thanky, thanky, Brer Rabbit!"

Mr. Rabbit hang his fish on a tree lim an' say, "Now, Brer c.o.o.n, you bleege ter do dis lik' I tell you." Mr. c.o.o.n 'lowed dat he would ef de good Lawd spared 'im.

Den Mr. Rabbit say, "Now, Brer c.o.o.n, you des rack down yonder an' git on de big san-bar 'twix' de river an' de branch. Wen you git dar you mus'

stagger like you sick, an' den you mus' whirl roun' an' roun' an' drap down lak you dead. Arter you drap down, you mus' sorter jerk yo' legs once er twice an' den you mus' lay right still. If fly light on yo' nose let 'im stay dar. Don't move; don't wink yo' eye; don't switch yo' tail.

Des lay right dar an' 'twont' be long for yo' hear from me. Yit don't yo' move till I give de word."

Mr. c.o.o.n he paced off he did, an' done des like Mr. Rabbit told him. He staggered roun' on de san'-bank, an' den he drapped down dead. Atter so long a time, Mr. Rabbit come lopin' 'long, an' soon's he got dar he squall out, "c.o.o.n dead!" Dis rousted de frogs, an' dey stuck dey heads up fer ter see w'at all de rippet was about. One great big green frog up an' holler, "W'at de matter? W'at de matter?" He talk like he got bad cold. Mr. Rabbit he 'low, "c.o.o.n dead!" Frog say, "Don't believe it!

Don't believe it!" N'er frog say, "Yes, he is! Yes, he is!" Little bit er one say, "No, he ain't! No, he ain't!"

Dey keep on sputin till bimeby hit look like all de frogs in de neighborhood wuz dar. Mr. Rabbit look like he ain't a-kearin' what dey do er say. He sot down dar in de san' like he gwine in moanin' fer Mr.

c.o.o.n. De frogs kep' gittin' closer and closer. Mr. c.o.o.n he ain't move.

W'en a fly'd git on 'im, Mr. Rabbit he'd bresh 'im off.

Bimeby he 'low, "Ef you want ter git 'im outin de way, now's you time, cousin frogs. Des whirl in an' bury 'im, deep in de san'."

Big old frog say, "How we gwine ter do it? How we gwine ter do it?"

Mr. Rabbit 'low, "Dig de san' out from under 'im an' let 'im down in de hole." Den de frogs dey went ter work sure enough. Dey mus' 'a' been a hundred un um, an' dey make dat san' fly.

Mr. c.o.o.n he ain't move. De frogs dey dig an' scratch in de san' tell atter while dey had a right smaht hole an' Mr. c.o.o.n wuz down in dar.

Bimeby Big Frog holler, "Dis deep nuff? Dis deep nuff?"

Mr. Rabbit' low, "Kin you jump out?"

Big Frog say, "Yes, I kin! Yes, I kin!"

Mr. Rabbit say, "Den 'tain't deep nuff."

Den de frogs dey dig an' dey dig tell bimeby Big Frog say, "Dis deep nuff? Dis deep nuff?" Mr. Rabbit 'low, "Kin you jump out?" Big Frog say, "I des kin! I des kin!" Mr. Rabbit say, "Dig it deeper." All de frogs keep on diggin' tell bimeby Big Frog holler out, "Dis deep nuff? Dis deep nuff?"

Mr. Rabbit 'low, "Kin you jump out?" Big Frog say, "No, I can't! No, I can't! Come he'p me! Come he'p me!"

Den Mr. Rabbit bust out laffin' an' holler out, "Rise up, sandy, an' git yo' meat." An' Mr. c.o.o.n riz.

FOOTNOTE:

[74] By permission of D. Appleton & Co.

MONEY MUSK

BENJAMIN F. TAYLOR

Ah, the buxom girls that helped the boys-- The n.o.bler Helens of humbler Troys-- As they stripped the husks with rustling fold From eight-rowed corn as yellow as gold,

By the candle-light in pumpkin bowls, And the gleams that showed fantastic holes In the quaint old lantern's tattooed tin, From the hermit glim set up within;

By the rarer light in girlish eyes As dark as wells, or as blue as skies.

I hear the laugh when the ear is red, I see the blush with the forfeit paid,

The cedar cakes with the ancient twist, The cider cup that the girls have kissed.

And I see the fiddler through the dusk As he tw.a.n.gs the ghost of "Money Musk!"

The boys and girls in a double row Wait face to face till the magic bow Shall whip the tune from the violin, And the merry pulse of the feet begin.

In shirt of check, and tallowed hair, The fiddler sits in the bulrush chair Like Moses' basket stranded there On the brink of Father Nile.

He feels the fiddle's slender neck, Picks out the note, with thrum and check; And times the tune with nod and beck, And thinks it a weary while.

All ready! Now he gives the call, Cries, "_Honor to the ladies_!" All The jolly tides of laughter fall And ebb in a happy smile.

"_Begin_." D-o-w-n comes the bow on every string, "_First couple join right hands and swing_!"

As light as any blue-bird's wing "_Swing once and a half times round_."

Whirls Mary Martin all in blue-- Calico gown and stockings new, And tinted eyes that tell you true, Dance all to the dancing sound.

She flits about big Moses Brown, Who holds her hands to keep her down And thinks her hair a golden crown, And his heart turns over once!

His cheek with Mary's breath is wet, It gives a second somerset!

He means to win the maiden yet, Alas, for the awkward dance!

"Your stoga boot has crushed my toe!"

"I'd rather dance with one-legged Joe!"

"You clumsy fellow!" "_Pa.s.s below_!"

And the first pair dance apart.

Then "_Forward six_!" advance, retreat, Like midges gay in sunbeam street.

'Tis Money Musk by merry feet And the Money Musk by heart!

"_Three quarters round your partner swing!

Across the set_!" The rafters ring, The girls and boys have taken wing And have brought their roses out!

'Tis "_Forward six_!" with rustic grace, Ah, rarer far than--"_Swing to place_!"

Than golden clouds of old point-lace They bring the dance about.

Then clasping hands all--"_Right and left_!"

All swiftly weave the measure deft Across the woof in loving weft, And the Money Musk is done!

Oh, dancers of the rustling husk, Good night, sweet hearts, 'tis growing dusk, Good night for aye to Money Musk, For the heavy march begun!

THE ONE-LEGGED GOOSE[75]

F. HOPKINSON SMITH

The Colonel had been detained at his office, but had sent word that I was to wait for him. Chad was serving the coffee. "My Marsa John," he remarked, filling the cup with the smoking beverage, "never drank nuffin' but tea, eben at de big dinners when all de gemmen had coffee in de little cups--dat's one ob 'em you's drinkin' out ob now; dey ain't mo' 'an fo' on 'em left. Old marsa would have his pot of tea. Henny useter make it for him; makes it now for Miss Nancy.