one er dezeyer ole-timers. Dey tells me dat he 'uz a fiddler fum away
back yander--one er dem ar kinder fiddlers w'at can't git de chune down
fine 'less dey pats der foot. He stay all by he own-alone se'f way out
in de middle un a big new-groun', en he sech a handy man fer ter have at
a frolic dat de yuther creeturs like 'im mighty well, en w'en dey tuck a
notion fer ter shake der foot, w'ich de notion tuck'n struck um eve'y
once in a w'ile, nuthin' 'ud do but dey mus' sen' fer ole man Benjermun
Ram en he fiddle; en dey do say," continued Uncle Remus, closing his
eyes in a sort of ecstasy, "dat w'en he squar' hisse'f back in a cheer,
en git in a weavin' way, he kin des snatch dem ole-time chunes fum who
lay de rail.[11] En den, w'en de frolic wuz done, dey'd all fling in, dem
yuther creeturs would, en fill up a bag er peas fer ole Mr. Benjermun
Ram fer ter kyar home wid 'im.

"One time, des 'bout Christmas, Miss Meadows en Miss Motts en de gals,
dey up'n say dat dey 'd sorter gin a blowout, en dey got wud ter ole man
Benjermun Ram w'ich dey 'speckted 'im fer ter be on han'. Wen de time
done come fer Mr. Benjermun Ram fer ter start, de win' blow cole en de
cloud 'gun ter spread out 'cross de elements--but no marter fer dat; ole
man Benjermun Ram tuck down he walkin'-cane, he did, en tie up he fiddle
in a bag, en sot out fer Miss Meadows. He thunk he know de way, but hit
keep on gittin' col'er en col'er, en mo' cloudy, twel bimeby, fus' news
you know, ole Mr. Benjermun Ram done lose de way. Ef he'd er kep' on
down de big road fum de start, it moughter bin diffunt, but he tuck a
nigh-cut, en he ain't git fur 'fo' he done los' sho' 'nuff. He go dis
a-way, en he go dat a-way, en he go de yuther way, yit all de same he
wuz done los'. Some folks would er sot right flat down whar dey wuz en
study out der way, but ole man Benjermun Ram ain't got wrinkle on he
hawn fer nothin', kaze he done got de name er ole Billy Hardhead long
'fo' dat. Den ag'in, some folks would er stop right still in der tracks
en holler en bawl fer ter see ef dey can't roust up some er de
neighbors, but ole Mr. Benjermun Ram, he des stick he jowl in de win',
he did, en he march right on des 'zackly like he know he ain't gwine de
wrong way. He keep on, but 't wa'n't long 'fo' he 'gun ter feel right
lonesome, mo' speshually w'en hit come up in he min' how Miss Meadows en
de gals en all de comp'ny be bleedz ter do de bes' dey kin bidout any
fiddlin'; en hit ki