"Cap'n Goat tuk an' whisp'r ter Brer Turkey Buzz'rd ter go tell Jim Duck fur de Lawd sake ter stop de fuss, so Jack Donkey kin speak, 'caze Mist'r Race Hoss wus jes' er speakin' gran' an' gittin' way erhead; an' Cap'n Goat settin' up dar pullin' his whisk'rs an' farely chawin' de een's off. Fin'ly Brer Turkey Buzzard whisper ter Jim Puddle Duck, but Jim Duck sorter deef an' he think Brer Buzzard say fur his fambly ter go he'p 'long de fuss. So he go, he do, an' geth'r 'em up, an' Miss Screech Owel's fokes, too, an' dey starts sich ernuth'r holl'rin' es nobody ain' nuv'r heah befo' nur sense. Cap'n Goat try ter shout out er few wurds, but nobody can' heah er wurd, so Mist'r Durham Cow raise his beller ter try ter hope him, but dat done do no good. Den Mist'r Tom Cat see ef he kin git in er wurd, but nobody wud know he wus talkin' les'n dey see his mouf wurkin'. "Whoopee! Jack Donkey wus so mad, he hop up ter holler, too, but Mist'r Wile Cat hidin' b'hime 'im, grabs 'im by de kiv'r an' tell 'im ter set still tell dey holl'rs derse'fs out. He say, 'Den you kin speak atter Mist'r Race Hoss gits all wo' out.' But nor suhree, dat 'vice ain' suitin' Jack Donkey, an' whut's mo', he too hard haided ter lis'n enyhow, so he up an' start ter holl'rin his 'He-haw, he-haw.' "Whoopee! dat stop de fuss! Somebody 'gun ter holl'r: 'Bline Billy ain' nobody but ole Jack Donkey!' All uv 'em say, 'De idee er Jack Donkey puttin' hisse'f up ter be rul'r er de beastes.' "Unk Bell Weth'r shake de bell, an' all de sheep flocks ter Mist'r Race Hoss's side. "Oh, I tell yer dar wusn't but er han'ful er fokes lef' on Jack's side." "Why did Jack Donkey pull his cov'r off, Mammy?" "He didn't hatt'r pull his kiv'r off, son, caze Jack call out his own name--can't you tell er donkey whin you heahs him bray?" At that moment a band and shouts of people were heard coming up the street. "Lawsee! chillun! Less git down fum heah; I b'leef in m' soul Mist'r Race Hoss done beat dis race sho' nuf." X MISTER BAD 'SIMMON TREE "Look at that big old grape tree, Mammy Phyllis," said Mary Van, as she ran beside the little boy gathering wild flowers in the woods back of the house. "That's not a grape tree, Mary Van--it's a grape vine," corrected Willis. "'Tain't, it's a tree, isn't it, Mammy?" "It's a vine," he emphasized with a shake of her arm. "Make him stop, he's knocking my flowers." "Dey ain't no use youall 'sputin' 'bout Miss Wile Grape. Bofe uv yer's got hit right. She uster be Miss Wile Grape Vine 'fo' she take an' marry ole man Holl'r Tree. Now she call herse'f Miss Grape Vine Tree." "Where's Old Man Holl'r Tree?"