{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_2306/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_2306","id":"gutenberg_2306","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2306","summary":null,"tags":["African American men -- Literary collections","African Americans -- Folklore -- Literary collections","African Americans -- Songs and music","Animals -- Folklore -- Literary collections","Category: American Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Literature","Folklore","Georgia -- Literary collections","Plantation life -- Literary collections","Remus, Uncle (Fictitious character) -- Literary collections"],"text":"Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings\n\nBy Joel Chandler Harris\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE AND DEDICATION\nTO THE NEW EDITION\n\nTo Arthur Barbette Frost:\n\nDEAR FROST:\n\nI am expected to supply a preface for this new edition of my\nfirst book--to advance from behind the curtain, as it were, and\nmake a fresh bow to the public that has dealt with Uncle Remus in\nso gentle and generous a fashion. For this event the lights are\nto be rekindled, and I am expected to respond in some formal way\nto an encore that marks the fifteenth anniversary of the book.\nThere have been other editions--how many I do not remember--but\nthis is to be an entirely new one, except as to the matter: new\ntype, new pictures, and new binding.\n\nBut, as frequently happens on such occasions, I am at a loss for\na word. I seem to see before me the smiling faces of thousands of\nchildren--some young and fresh, and some wearing the friendly\nmarks of age, but all children at heart--and not an unfriendly\nface among them. And out of the confusion, and while I am trying\nhard to speak the right word, I seem to hear a voice lifted above\nthe rest, saying \"You have made some of us happy.\" And so I feel\nmy heart fluttering and my lips trembling, and I have to how\nsilently and him away, and hurry back into the obscurity that\nfits me best.\n\nPhantoms! Children of dreams! True, my dear Frost; but if you\ncould see the thousands of letters that have come to me from far\nand near, and all fresh from the hearts and hands of children,\nand from men and women who have not forgotten how to be children,\nyou would not wonder at the dream. And such a dream can do no\nharm. Insubstantial though it may be, I would not at this hour\nexchange it for all the fame won by my mightier brethren of the\npen--whom I most humbly salute.\n\nMeasured by the material developments that have compressed\nyears of experience into the space of a day, thus increasing the\npossibilities of life, if not its beauty, fifteen years\nconstitute the old age of a book. Such a survival might almost be\nsaid to be due to a tiny sluice of green sap under the gray bark.\nwhere it lies in the matter of this book, or what its source if,\nindeed, it be really there--is more of a mystery to my middle age\nthan it was to my prime.\n\nBut it would be no mystery at all if this new edition were to be\nmore popular than the old one. Do you know why? Because you\nhave taken it under your hand and made it yours. Because you have\nbreathed the breath of life into these amiable brethren of wood\nand field. Because, by a stroke here and a touch there, you have\nconveyed into their quaint antics the illumination of your own\ninimitable humor, which is as true to our sun and soil as it is\nto the spirit and essence of the matter set forth.\n\nThe book was mine, but now you have made it yours, both sap and\npith. Take it, therefore, my dear Frost, and believe me,\nfaithfully yours,\n\nJoel Chandler Harris\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nI am advised by my publishers that this book is to be included in\ntheir catalogue of humorous publications, and this friendly\nwarning gives me an opportunity to say that however humorous it\nmay be in effect, its intention is perfectly serious; and, even\nif it were otherwise, it seems to me that a volume written wholly\nin dialect must have its solemn, not to say melancholy, features.\nWith respect to the Folk-Lore scenes, my purpose has been to\npreserve the legends themselves in their original simplicity, and\nto wed them permanently to the quaint dialect--if, indeed, it can\nbe called a dialect--through the medium of which they have become\na part of the domestic history of every Southern family; and I\nhave endeavored to give to the whole a genuine flavor of the old\nplantation.\n\nEach legend has its variants, but in every instance I have\nretained that particular version which seemed to me to be the\nmost characteristic, and have given it without embellishment and\nwithout exaggeration.\n\nThe dialect, it will be observed, is wholly different from that\nof the Hon. Pompey Smash and his literary descendants, and\ndifferent also from the intolerable misrepresentations of the\nminstrel stage, but it is at least phonetically genuine.\nNevertheless, if the language of Uncle Remus fails to give vivid\nhints of the really poetic imagination of the negro; if it fails\nto embody the quaint and homely humor which was his most\nprominent characteristic; if it does not suggest a certain\npicturesque sensitiveness--a curious exaltation of mind and\ntemperament not to be defined by words--then I have reproduced\nthe form of the dialect merely, and not the essence, and my\nattempt may be accounted a failure. At any rate, I trust I have\nbeen successful in presenting what must be, at least to a large\nportion of American readers, a new and by no means unattractive\nphase of negro character--a phase which may be considered a\ncuriously sympathetic supplement to Mrs. Stowe's wonderful\ndefense of slavery as it existed in the South. Mrs. Stowe, let me\nhasten to say, attacked the possibilities of slavery with all the\neloquence of genius; but the same genius painted the portrait of\nthe Southern slave-owner, and defended him.\n\nA number of the plantation legends originally appeared in the\ncolumns of a daily newspaper--The Atlanta Constitution and in\nthat shape they attracted the attention of various gentlemen who\nwere kind enough to suggest that they would prove to be valuable\ncontributions to myth-literature. It is but fair to say that\nethnological considerations formed no part of the undertaking\nwhich has resulted in the publication of this volume. Professor\nJ. W. Powell, of the Smithsonian Institution, who is engaged in\nan investigation of the mythology of the North American Indians,\ninforms me that some of Uncle Remus's stories appear in a number\nof different languages, and in various modified forms, among the\nIndians; and he is of the opinion that they are borrowed by the\nnegroes from the red-men. But this, to say the least, is\nextremely doubtful, since another investigator (Mr. Herbert H.\nSmith, author of Brazil and the Amazons) has met with some of\nthese stories among tribes of South American Indians, and one in\nparticular he has traced to India, and as far east as Siam. Mr.\nSmith has been kind enough to send me the proof-sheets of his\nchapter on The Myths and Folk-Lore of the Amazonian Indians, in\nwhich he reproduces some of the stories which he gathered while\nexploring the Amazons.\n\nIn the first of his series, a tortoise falls from a tree upon the\nhead of a jaguar and kills him; in one of Uncle Remus's stories,\nthe terrapin falls from a shelf in Miss Meadows's house and stuns\nthe fox, so that the latter fails to catch the rabbit. In the\nnext, a jaguar catches a tortoise by the hind-leg as he is\ndisappearing in his hole; but the tortoise convinces him he is\nholding a root, and so escapes; Uncle Remus tells how the fox\nendeavored to drown the terrapin, but turned him loose because\nthe terrapin declared his tail to be only a stump-root. Mr. Smith\nalso gives the story of how the tortoise outran the deer, which\nis identical as to incident with Uncle Remus's story of how Brer\nTarrypin outran Brer Rabbit. Then there is the story of how the\ntortoise pretended that he was stronger than the tapir. He tells\nthe latter he can drag him into the sea, but the tapir retorts\nthat he will pull the tortoise into the forest and kill him\nbesides. The tortoise thereupon gets a vine-stem, ties one end\naround the body of the tapir, and goes to the sea, where he ties\nthe other end to the tail of a whale. He then goes into the wood,\nmidway between them both, and gives the vine a shake as a signal\nfor the pulling to begin. The struggle between the whale and\ntapir goes on until each thinks the tortoise is the strongest of\nanimals. Compare this with the story of the terrapin's contest\nwith the bear, in which Miss Meadows's bed-cord is used instead\nof a vine-stem. One of the most characteristic of Uncle Remus's\nstories is that in which the rabbit proves to Miss Meadows and\nthe girls that the fox is his riding-horse. This is almost\nidentical with a story quoted by Mr. Smith, where the jaguar is\nabout to marry the deer's daughter. The cotia--a species of\nrodent--is also in love with her, and he tells the deer that he\ncan make a riding-horse of the jaguar.\n\n\"Well,\" says the deer, \"if you can make the jaguar carry you, you\nshall have my daughter.\" Thereupon the story proceeds pretty\nmuch as Uncle Remus tells it of the fox and rabbit. The cotia\nfinally jumps from the jaguar and takes refuge in a hole, where\nan owl is set to watch him, but he flings sand in the owl's eyes\nand escapes. In another story given by Mr. Smith, the cotia is\nvery thirsty, and, seeing a man coming with a jar on his head,\nlies down in the road in front of him, and repeats this until the\nman puts down his jar to go back after all the dead cotias he has\nseen. This is almost identical with Uncle Remus's story of how\nthe rabbit robbed the fox of his game. In a story from Upper\nEgypt, a fox lies down in the road in front of a man who is\ncarrying fowls to market, and finally succeeds in securing them.\n\nThis similarity extends to almost every story quoted by Mr.\nSmith, and some are so nearly identical as to point unmistakably\nto a common origin; but when and where? when did the negro or the\nNorth American Indian ever come in contact with the tribes of\nSouth America? Upon this point the author of Brazil and the\nAmazons, who is engaged in making a critical and comparative\nstudy of these myth-stories, writes:\n\n\"I am not prepared to form a theory about these stories. There\ncan be no doubt that some of them, found among the negroes and\nthe Indians, had a common origin. The most natural solution would\nbe to suppose that they originated in Africa, and were carried to\nSouth America by the negro slaves. They are certainly found among\nthe Red Negroes; but, unfortunately for the African theory, it is\nequally certain that they are told by savage Indians of the\nAmazons Valley, away up on the Tapajos, Red Negro, and Tapura.\nThese Indians hardly ever see a negro, and their languages are\nvery distinct from the broken Portuguese spoken by the slaves.\nThe form of the stories, as recounted in the Tupi and Mundurucu'\nlanguages, seems to show that they were originally formed in\nthose languages or have long been adopted in them.\n\n\"It is interesting to find a story from Upper Egypt (that of the\nfox who pretended to be dead) identical with an Amazonian story,\nand strongly resembling one found by you among the negroes.\nVambagen, the Brazilian historian (now Visconde de Rio Branco),\ntried to prove a relationship between the ancient Egyptians, or\nother Turanian stock, and the Tupi Indians. His theory rested on\nrather a slender basis, yet it must be confessed that he had one\nor two strong points. Do the resemblances between old and New\nWorld stories point to a similar conclusion? It would be hard to\nsay with the material that we now have.\n\n\"One thing is certain. The animal stories told by the negroes in\nour Southern States and in Brazil were brought by them from\nAfrica. Whether they originated there, or with the Arabs, or\nEgyptians, or with yet more ancient nations, must still be an\nopen question. Whether the Indians got them from the negroes or\nfrom some earlier source is equally uncertain. We have seen\nenough to know that a very interesting line of investigation has\nbeen opened.\"\n\nProfessor Hartt, in his Amazonian Tortoise Myths, quotes a story\nfrom the Riverside Magazine of November, 1868, which will be\nrecognized as a variant of one given by Uncle Remus. I venture to\nappend it here, with some necessary verbal and phonetic\nalterations, in order to give the reader an idea of the\ndifference between the dialect of the cotton plantations, as used\nby Uncle Remus, and the lingo in vogue on the rice plantations\nand Sea Islands of the South Atlantic States:\n\n\"One time B'er Deer an' B'er Cooter (Terrapin) was courtin', and\nde lady did bin lub B'er Deer mo' so dan B'er Cooter. She did bin\nlub B'er Cooter, but she lub B'er Deer de morest. So de young\nlady say to B'er Deer and B'er Cooter bofe dat dey mus' hab a\nten-mile race, an de one dat beats, she will go marry him.\n\n\"So B'er Cooter say to B'er Deer: 'You has got mo longer legs dan\nI has, but I will run you. You run ten mile on land, and I will\nrun ten mile on de water!'\n\n\"So B'er Cooter went an' git nine er his fam'ly, an' put one at\nebery mile-pos', and he hisse'f, what was to run wid B'er Deer,\nhe was right in front of de young lady's do', in de broom-grass.\n\n\"Dat mornin' at nine o'clock, B'er Deer he did met B'er Cooter at\nde fus mile-pos', wey dey was to start fum. So he call: 'Well,\nB'er Cooter, is you ready? Co long!' As he git on to de nex'\nmile-pos', he say: 'B'er Cooter!' B'er Cooter say: 'Hullo!' B'er\nDeer say: 'You dere?' B'er Cooter say: 'Yes, B'er Deer, I dere\ntoo.'\n\n\"Nex' mile-pos' he jump, B'er Deer say: 'Hullo, B'er Cooter!'\nB'er Cooter say: 'Hullo, B'er Deer! you dere too?' B'er Deer say:\n'Ki! it look like you gwine fer tie me; it look like we gwine fer\nde gal tie!'\n\n\"W'en he git to de nine-mile pos' he tought he git dere fus,\n'cause he mek two jump; so he holler: 'B'er Cooter!' B'er Cooter\nanswer: 'You dere too?' B'er Deer say: 'It look like you gwine\ntie me.' B'er Cooter say: 'Go long, B'er Deer. I git dere in due\nseason time,' which he does, and wins de race.\"\n\nThe story of the Rabbit and the Fox, as told by the Southern\nnegroes, is artistically dramatic in this: it progresses in an\norderly way from a beginning to a well-defined conclusion, and is\nfull of striking episodes that suggest the culmination. It seems\nto me to be to a certain extent allegorical, albeit such an\ninterpretation may be unreasonable. At least it is a fable\nthoroughly characteristic of the negro; and it needs no\nscientific investigation to show why he selects as his hero the\nweakest and most harmless of all animals, and brings him out\nvictorious in contests with the bear, the wolf, and the fox. It\nis not virtue that triumphs, but helplessness; it is not malice,\nbut mischievousness. It would be presumptuous in me to offer an\nopinion as to the origin of these curious myth-stories; but, if\nethnologists should discover that they did not originate with the\nAfrican, the proof to that effect should be accompanied with a\ngood deal of persuasive eloquence.\n\nCuriously enough, I have found few negroes who will acknowledge\nto a stranger that they know anything of these legends; and yet\nto relate one of the stories is the surest road to their\nconfidence and esteem. In this way, and in this way only, I have\nbeen enabled to collect and verify the folklore included in this\nvolume. There is an anecdote about the Irishman and the rabbit\nwhich a number of negroes have told to me with great unction, and\nwhich is both funny and characteristic, though I will not\nundertake to say that it has its origin with the blacks. One\nday an Irishman who had heard people talking about \"mares' nests\"\nwas going along the big road--it is always the big road in\ncontradistinction to neighborhood paths and by-paths, called in\nthe vernacular \"nigh-cuts\"--when he came to a pumpkin--patch. The\nIrishman had never seen any of this fruit before, and he at once\nconcluded that he had discovered a veritable mare's nest. Making\nthe most of his opportunity, he gathered one of the pumpkins in\nhis arms and went on his way. A pumpkin is an exceedingly awkward\nthing to carry, and the Irishman had not gone far before he made\na misstep, and stumbled. The pumpkin fell to the ground, rolled\ndown the hill into a \"brush--heap,\" and, striking against a\nstump, was broken. The story continues in the dialect: \"W'en de\npunkin roll in de bresh--heap, out jump a rabbit; en soon's de\nI'shmuns see dat, he take atter de rabbit en holler: 'Kworp,\ncolty! kworp, colty!' but de rabbit, he des flew.\" The point of\nthis is obvious.\n\nAs to the songs, the reader is warned that it will be found\ndifficult to make them conform to the ordinary rules of\nversification, nor is it intended that they should so conform.\nThey are written, and are intended to be read, solely with\nreference to the regular and invariable recurrence of the\ncaesura, as, for instance, the first stanza of the Revival Hymn:\n\n\"Oh, whar / shill we go / w'en de great / day comes\n Wid de blow / in' er de trumpits / en de bang / in' er de\n        drums /\n How man / y po' sin / ners'll be kotch'd / out late\n En fine / no latch ter de gold  / en gate /\"\n\nIn other words, the songs depend for their melody and rhythm\nupon the musical quality of time, and not upon long or short,\naccented or unaccented syllables. I am persuaded that this fact\nled Mr. Sidney Lanier, who is thoroughly familiar with the\nmetrical peculiarities of negro songs, into the exhaustive\ninvestigation which has resulted in the publication of his\nscholarly treatise on The Science of English Verse.\n\nThe difference between the dialect of the legends and that of the\ncharacter--sketches, slight as it is, marks the modifications\nwhich the speech of the negro has undergone even where education\nhas played in deed, save in the no part reforming it.  Indeed,\nsave in the remote country districts, the dialect of the legends\nhas nearly disappeared.  I am perfectly well aware that the\ncharacter sketches are without permanent interest, but they are\nembodied here for the purpose of presenting a phase of negro\ncharacter wholly distinct from that which I have endeavored to\npreserve in the legends. Only in this shape, and with all the\nlocal allusions, would it be possible to adequately represent the\nshrewd observations, the curious retorts, the homely thrusts, the\nquaint comments, and the humorous philosophy of the race of which\nUncle Remus is the type.\n\nIf the reader not familiar with plantation life will imagine that\nthe myth--stories of Uncle Remus are told night after night to a\nlittle boy by an old negro who appears to be venerable enough to\nhave lived during the period which he describes--who has nothing\nbut pleasant memories of the discipline of slavery--and who has\nall the prejudices of caste and pride of family that were the\nnatural results of the system; if the reader can imagine all\nthis, he will find little difficulty in appreciating and\nsympathizing with the air of affectionate superiority which Uncle\nRemus assumes as he proceeds to unfold the mysteries of\nplantation lore to a little child who is the product of that\npractical reconstruction which has been going on to some extent\nsince the war in spite of the politicians. Uncle Remus describes\nthat reconstruction in his Story of the War, and I may as well\nadd here for the benefit of the curious that that story is almost\nliterally true.\n\nJ. C. H.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nLEGENDS OF THE OLD PLANTATION\n\nI. Uncle Remus initiates the Little Boy\nII. The Wonderful Tar-Baby Story\nIII. Why Mr. Possum loves Peace\nIV. How Mr. Rabbit was too sharp for Mr. Fox\nV. The Story of the Deluge, and how it came about\nVI. Mr. Rabbit grossly deceives Mr. Fox\nVII. Mr. Fox is again victimized\nVIII. Mr. Fox is \"outdone\" by Mr. Buzzard\nIX. Miss Cow falls a Victim to Mr. Rabbit\nX. Mr. Terrapin appears upon the Scene\nXI. Mr. Wolf makes a Failure\nXII. Mr. Fox tackles Old Man Tarrypin\nXIII. The Awful Fate of Mr. Wolf\nXIV. Mr. Fox and the Deceitful Frogs\nXV. Mr. Fox goes a-hunting, but Mr. Rabbit bags the Game\nXVI. Old Mr. Rabbit, he's a Good Fisherman\nXVII. Mr. Rabbit nibbles up the Butter\nXVIII. Mr. Rabbit finds his Match at last\nXIX. The Fate of Mr. Jack Sparrow\nXX. How Mr. Rabbit saved his Meat\nXXI. Mr. Rabbit meets his Match again\nXXII. A Story about the Little Rabbits\nXXIII. Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Bear\nXXIV. Mr. Bear catches Old Mr. Bull-Frog\nXXV. How Mr. Rabbit lost his Fine Bushy Tail\nXXVI. Mr. Terrapin shows his Strength\nXXVII Why Mr. Possum has no Hair on his Tail\nXXVIII. The End of Mr. Bear\nXXIX. Mr. Fox gets into Serious Business\nXXX. How Mr. Rabbit succeeded in raising a Dust.\nXXXI. A Plantation Witch\nXXXII. \"Jacky-my-Lantern\"\nXXXIII. Why the Negro is Black\nXXXIV. The Sad Fate of Mr. Fox\n\nPlantation Proverbs\n\nHis Songs\n\nI. Revival Hymn\nII. Camp-Meeting Song\nIII. Corn-Shucking Song\nIV. The Plough-hands Song\nV. Christmas Play-Song\nVI. Plantation Play-Song\nVII. Transcriptions:\n      1. A Plantation Chant\n      2. A Plantation Serenade\nVIII. De Big Bethel Church\nIX. Time goes by Turns\n\nA Story of the War\n\nHis Sayings\nI. Jeems Rober'son's Last Illness\nII. Uncle Remus's Church Experience\nIII. Uncle Remus and the Savannah Darkey\nIV. Turnip Salad as a Text\nV. A Confession\nVI. Uncle Remus with the Toothache\nVII. The Phonograph\nVIII. Race Improvement\nIX. In the Role of a Tartar\nX. A Case of Measles\nXI. The Emigrants\nXII. As a Murderer\nXIII. His Practical View of Things\nXIV. That Deceitful Jug\nXV. The Florida Watermelon\nXVI. Uncle Remus preaches to a Convert\nXVII. As to Education\nXVIII. A Temperance Reformer\nXIX. As a Weather Prophet\nXX. The Old Man's Troubles\nXXI. The Fourth of July\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF THE OLD PLANTATION\n\n\nI. UNCLE REMUS INITIATES THE LITTLE BOY\n\nOne evening recently, the lady whom Uncle Remus calls \"Miss\nSally\" missed her little seven-year-old. Making search for him\nthrough the house and through the yard, she heard the sound of\nvoices in the old man's cabin, and, looking through the window,\nsaw the child sitting by Uncle Remus. His head rested against the\nold man's arm, and he was gazing with an expression of the most\nintense interest into the rough, weather-beaten face, that beamed\nso kindly upon him. This is what \"Miss Sally\" heard:\n\n\"Bimeby, one day, atter Brer Fox bin doin' all dat he could fer\nter ketch Brer Rabbit, en Brer Rabbit bein doin' all he could fer\nter keep 'im fum it, Brer Fox say to hisse'f dat he'd put up a\ngame on Brer Rabbit, en he ain't mo'n got de wuds out'n his mouf\ntwel Brer Rabbit came a lopin' up de big road, lookin' des ez\nplump, en ez fat, en ez sassy ez a Moggin hoss in a barley-patch.\n\n\"'Hol' on dar, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'I ain't got time, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, sorter\nmendin' his licks.\n\n\"'I wanter have some confab wid you, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Fox,\nsezee.\n\n\"'All right, Brer Fox, but you better holler fum whar you stan'.\nI'm monstus full er fleas dis mawnin',' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'I seed Brer B'ar yistdiddy, 'sez Brer Fox, sezee, 'en he sorter\nrake me over de coals kaze you en me ain't make frens en live\nnaberly, en I tole 'im dat I'd see you.'\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit scratch one year wid his off hinefoot sorter\njub'usly, en den he ups en sez, sezee:\n\n\"'All a settin', Brer Fox. Spose'n you drap roun' ter-morrer en\ntake dinner wid me. We ain't got no great doin's at our house,\nbut I speck de ole 'oman en de chilluns kin sorter scramble roun'\nen git up sump'n fer ter stay yo' stummick.'\n\n\"'I'm 'gree'ble, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Den I'll 'pen' on you,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"Nex' day, Mr. Rabbit an' Miss Rabbit got up soom, 'fo' day, en\nraided on a gyarden like Miss Sally's out dar, en got some\ncabbiges, en some roas'n--years, en some sparrer-grass, en dey\nfix up a smashin' dinner. Bimeby one er de little Rabbits,\nplayin' out in de back-yard, come runnin' in hollerin', 'Oh, ma!\noh, ma! I seed Mr. Fox a comin'!' En den Brer Rabbit he tuck de\nchilluns by der years en make um set down, en den him and Miss\nRabbit sorter dally roun' waitin' for Brer Fox. En dey keep on\nwaitin' for Brer Fox. En dey keep on waitin', but no Brer Fox\nain't come. Atter 'while Brer Rabbit goes to de do', easy like,\nen peep out, en dar, stickin' fum behime de cornder, wuz de\ntip-een' er Brer Fox tail. Den Brer Rabbit shot de do' en sot\ndown, en put his paws behime his years en begin fer ter sing:\n\n\"'De place wharbouts you spill de grease,\nRight dar you er boun' ter slide,\nAn' whar you fin' a bunch er ha'r,\nYou'll sholy fine de hide.'\n\n\"Nex' day, Brer Fox sont word by Mr. Mink, en skuze hisse'f kaze\nhe wuz too sick fer ter come, en he ax Brer Rabbit fer ter come\nen take dinner wid him, en Brer Rabbit say he wuz 'gree'ble.\n\n\"Bimeby, w'en de shadders wuz at der shortes', Brer Rabbit he\nsorter brush up en sa'nter down ter Brer Fox's house, en w'en he\ngot dar, he hear somebody groanin', en he look in de do' an dar\nhe see Brer Fox settin' up in a rockin'-cheer all wrop up wid\nflannil, en he look mighty weak. Brer Rabbit look all roun', he\ndid, but he ain't see no dinner. De dish-pan wuz settin' on de\ntable, en close by wuz a kyarvin' knife.\n\n\"'Look like you gwineter have chicken fer dinner, Brer Fox,' sez\nBrer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'Yes, Brer Rabbit, dey er nice, en fresh, en tender, 'sez Brer\nFox, sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit sorter pull his mustarsh, en say: 'You ain't got\nno calamus root, is you, Brer Fox? I done got so now dat I can't\neat no chicken 'ceppin she's seasoned up wid calamus root.'\nEn wid dat Brer Rabbit lipt out er de do' and dodge 'mong the\nbushes, en sot dar watchin' for Brer Fox; en he ain't watch long,\nnudder, kaze Brer Fox flung off de flannil en crope out er de\nhouse en got whar he could cloze in on Brer Rabbit, en bimeby\nBrer Rabbit holler out: 'Oh, Brer Fox! I'll des put yo' calamus\nroot out yer on dish yer stump. Better come git it while hit's\nfresh,' and wid dat Brer Rabbit gallop off home. En Brer Fox\nain't never kotch 'im yit, en w'at's mo', honey, he ain't\ngwineter.\"\n\n\nII. THE WONDERFUL TAR BABY STORY\n\n\"Didn't the fox never catch the rabbit, Uncle Remus?\" asked the\nlittle boy the next evening.\n\n\"He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho's you born--Brer Fox did. One\nday atter Brer Rabbit fool 'im wid dat calamus root, Brer Fox\nwent ter wuk en got 'im some tar, en mix it wid some turkentime,\nen fix up a contrapshun w'at he call a Tar-Baby, en he tuck dish\nyer Tar-Baby en he sot 'er in de big road, en den he lay off in\nde bushes fer to see what de news wuz gwine ter be. En he didn't\nhatter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby here come Brer Rabbit\npacin' down de road--lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity--dez ez\nsassy ez a jay-bird. Brer Fox, he lay low. Brer Rabbit come\nprancin' 'long twel he spy de Tar-Baby, en den he fotch up on his\nbehime legs like he wuz 'stonished. De Tar Baby, she sot dar, she\ndid, en Brer Fox, he lay low.\n\n\"'Mawnin'!' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee--'nice wedder dis mawnin','\nsezee.\n\n\"Tar-Baby ain't sayin' nuthin', en Brer Fox he lay low.\n\n\"'How duz yo' sym'tums seem ter segashuate?' sez Brer Rabbit,\nsezee.\n\n\"Brer Fox, he wink his eye slow, en lay low, en de Tar-Baby, she\nain't sayin' nuthin'.\n\n\"'How you come on, den? Is you deaf?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n'Kaze if you is, I kin holler louder,' sezee.\n\n\"Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.\n\n\"'You er stuck up, dat's w'at you is,' says Brer Rabbit, sezee,\n'en I'm gwine ter kyore you, dat's w'at I'm a gwine ter do,'\nsezee.\n\n\"Brer Fox, he sorter chuckle in his stummick, he did, but Tar-\nBaby ain't sayin' nothin'.\n\n\"'I'm gwine ter larn you how ter talk ter 'spectubble folks ef\nhit's de las' ack,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. 'Ef you don't take\noff dat hat en tell me howdy, I'm gwine ter bus' you wide open,'\nsezee.\n\n\"Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.\n\n\"Brer Rabbit keep on axin' 'im, en de Tar-Baby, she keep on\nsayin' nothin', twel present'y Brer Rabbit draw back wid his\nfis', he did, en blip he tuck 'er side er de head. Right dar's\nwhar he broke his merlasses jug. His fis' stuck, en he can't pull\nloose. De tar hilt 'im. But Tar-Baby, she stay still, en Brer\nFox, he lay low.\n\n\"'Ef you don't lemme loose, I'll knock you agin,' sez Brer\nRabbit, sezee, en wid dat he fotch 'er a wipe wid de udder han',\nen dat stuck. Tar-Baby, she ain't sayin' nuthin', en Brer Fox, he\nlay low.\n\n\"'Tu'n me loose, fo' I kick de natchul stuffin' outen you,' sez\nBrer Rabbit, sezee, but de Tar-Baby, she ain't sayin' nuthin'.\nShe des hilt on, en de Brer Rabbit lose de use er his feet in de\nsame way. Brer Fox, he lay low. Den Brer Rabbit squall out dat ef\nde Tar-Baby don't tu'n 'im loose he butt 'er cranksided. En den\nhe butted, en his head got stuck. Den Brer Fox, he sa'ntered\nfort', lookin' dez ez innercent ez wunner yo' mammy's mockin'-\nbirds.\n\n\"Howdy, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Fox, sezee. 'You look sorter stuck\nup dis mawnin',' sezee, en den he rolled on de groun', en laft en\nlaft twel he couldn't laff no mo'. 'I speck you'll take dinner\nwid me dis time, Brer Rabbit. I done laid in some calamus root,\nen I ain't gwineter take no skuse,' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\"\n\nHere Uncle Remus paused, and drew a two-pound yam out of the\nashes.\n\n\"Did the fox eat the rabbit?\" asked the little boy to whom the\nstory had been told.\n\n\"Dat's all de fur de tale goes,\" replied the old man. \"He mout,\nan den agin he moutent. Some say Judge B'ar come 'long en loosed\n'im--some say he didn't. I hear Miss Sally callin'. You better\nrun 'long.\"\n\n\nIII. WHY MR. POSSUM LOVES PEACE\n\n\"ONE night,\" said Uncle Remus--taking Miss Sally's little boy on\nhis knee, and stroking the child's hair thoughtfully and\ncaressingly--\"one night Brer Possum call by fer Brer Coon,\n'cordin' ter 'greement, en atter gobblin' up a dish er fried\ngreens en smokin' a seegyar, dey rambled fort' fer ter see how de\nballance er de settlement wuz gittin' long. Brer Coon, he wuz one\ner deze yer natchul pacers, en he racked 'long same ez Mars\nJohn's bay pony, en Brer Possum he went in a han'-gallup; en dey\ngot over heap er groun, mon. Brer Possum, he got his belly full\ner 'simmons, en Brer Coon, he scoop up a 'bunnunce er frogs en\ntadpoles. Dey amble long, dey did, des ez sociable ez a basket er\nkittens, twel bimeby dey hear Mr. Dog talkin' ter hisse'f way off\nin de woods.\n\n\"'Spozen he runs up on us, Brer Possum, w'at you gwineter do?'\nsez Brer Coon, sezee. Brer Possum sorter laugh 'round de cornders\nun his mouf.\n\n\"'Oh, ef he come, Brer Coon, I'm gwineter stan' by you,' sez Brer\nPossum. 'W'at you gwineter do?' sezee.\n\n\"'Who? me?' sez Brer Coon. 'Ef he run up onter me, I lay I give\n'im one twis',' sezee.\"\n\n\"Did the dog come?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Go 'way, honey!\" responded the old man, in an impressive tone.\n\"Go way! Mr. Dog, he come en he come a zoonin'. En he ain't wait\nfer ter say howdy, nudder. He des sail inter de two un um. De\nve'y fus pas he make Brer Possum fetch a grin fum year ter year,\nen keel over like he wuz dead. Den Mr. Dog, he sail inter Brer\nCoon, en right dar's whar he drap his money purse, kaze Brer Coon\nwuz cut out fer dat kinder bizness, en he fa'rly wipe up de face\ner de yeth wid 'im. You better b'leeve dat w'en Mr. Dog got a\nchance to make hisse'f skase he tuck it, en w'at der wuz lef' un\nhim went skaddlin' thoo de woods like hit wuz shot outen a\nmuskit. En Brer Coon, he sorter lick his cloze inter shape en\nrack off, en Brer Possum, he lay dar like he wuz dead, twel\nbimeby he raise up sorter keerful like, en w'en he fine de coas'\ncle'r he scramble up en scamper off like sumpin' was atter 'im.\"\n\nHere Uncle Remus paused long enough to pick up a live coal of\nfire in his fingers, transfer it to the palm of his hand, and\nthence to his clay pipe, which he had been filling--a proceeding\nthat was viewed by the little boy with undisguised admiration.\nThe old man then proceeded:\n\n\"Nex' time Brer Possum met Brer Coon, Brer Coon 'fuse ter 'spon'\nter his howdy, en dis make Brer Possum feel mighty bad, seein' ez\nhow dey useter make so many 'scurshuns tergedder.\n\n\"'W'at make you hol' yo' head so high, Brer Coon?' sez Brer\nPossum, sezee.\n\n\"'I ain't runnin' wid cowerds deze days,' sez Brer Coon. 'W'en I\nwants you I'll sen' fer you,' sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Possum git mighty mad.\n\n\"'Who's enny cowerd?' sezee.\n\n\"'You is,' sez Brer Coon, 'dat's who. I ain't soshatin' wid dem\nw'at lays down on de groun' en plays dead w'en dar's a free fight\ngwine on,' sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Possum grin en laugh fit to kill hisse'f. \"'Lor', Brer\nCoon, you don't speck I done dat kaze I wuz 'feared, duz you?'\nsezee. 'W'y I want no mo 'feared dan you is dis minnit. W'at wuz\ndey fer ter be skeered un?' sezee. 'I know'd you'd git away wid\nMr. Dog ef I didn't, en I des lay dar watchin' you shake him,\nwaitin' fer ter put in w'en de time come,' sezee.\n\n\"Brer Coon tu'n up his nose.\n\n\"'Dat's a mighty likely tale,' sezee, 'w'en Mr. Dog ain't mo'n\ntech you 'fo' you keel over, en lay dar stiff,' sezee.\n\n\"'Dat's des w'at I wuz gwineter tell you 'bout; sez Brer Possum,\nsezee. 'I want no mo' skeer'd dan you is right now, en' I wuz\nfixin' fer ter give Mr. Dog a sample er my jaw,' sezee, 'but I'm\nde most ticklish chap w'at you ever laid eyes on, en no sooner\ndid Mr. Dog put his nose down yer 'mong my ribs dan I got ter\nlaughin', en I laughed twel I ain't had no use er my lim's,'\nsezee, 'en it's a mussy unto Mr. Dog dat I wuz ticklish, kaze a\nlittle mo' en I'd e't 'im up,' sezee. 'I don't mine fightin',\nBrer Coon, no mo' dan you duz,' sezee, 'but I declar' ter grashus\nef I kin stan' ticklin'. Git me in a row whar dey ain't no\nticklin' 'lowed, en I'm your man, sezee.\n\n\"En down ter dis day\"--continued Uncle Remus, watching the\nsmoke from his pipe curl upward over the little boy's head--\"down\nter dis day, Brer Possum's bound ter s'render w'en you tech him\nin de short ribs, en he'll laugh ef he knows he's gwineter be\nsmashed fer it.\"\n\n\nIV. HOW MR. RABBIT WAS TOO SHARP FOR MR. FOX\n\n\"UNCLE REMUS,\" said the little boy one evening, when he had\nfound the old man with little or nothing to do, \"did the fox kill\nand eat the rabbit when he caught him with the Tar-Baby?\"\n\n\"Law, honey, ain't I tell you 'bout dat?\" replied the old darkey,\nchuckling slyly. \"I 'clar ter grashus I ought er tole you dat,\nbut old man Nod wuz ridin' on my eyeleds 'twel a leetle mo'n I'd\na dis'member'd my own name, en den on to dat here come yo mammy\nhollerin' atter you.\n\n\"W'at I tell you w'en I fus' begin? I tole you Brer Rabbit wuz a\nmonstus soon creetur; leas'ways dat's w'at I laid out fer ter\ntell you. Well, den, honey, don't you go en make no udder\ncalkalashuns, kaze in dem days Brer Rabbit en his fambly wuz at\nde head er de gang w'en enny racket wuz on han', en dar dey\nstayed. 'Fo' you begins fer ter wipe yo' eyes 'bout Brer Rabbit,\nyou wait en see whar'bouts Brer Rabbit gwineter fetch up at. But\ndat's needer yer ner dar.\n\n\"W'en Brer Fox fine Brer Rabbit mixt up wid de Tar-Baby, he feel\nmighty good, en he roll on de groun' en laff. Bimeby he up'n say,\nsezee:\n\n\"'Well, I speck I got you dis time, Brer Rabbit, sezee; 'maybe I\nain't, but I speck I is. You been runnin' roun' here sassin'\natter me a mighty long time, but I speck you done come ter de\neen' er de row. You bin cuttin' up yo' capers en bouncin''roun'\nin dis neighberhood ontwel you come ter b'leeve yo'se'f de boss\ner de whole gang. En den you er allers somers whar you got no\nbizness,' sez Brer Fox, sezee. 'Who ax you fer ter come en strike\nup a 'quaintance wid dish yer Tar-Baby? En who stuck you up dar\nwhar you iz? Nobody in de roun' worl'. You des tuck en jam\nyo'se'f on dat Tar-Baby widout waitin' fer enny invite,' sez Brer\nFox, sezee, en dar you is, en dar you'll stay twel I fixes up a\nbresh-pile and fires her up, kaze I'm gwineter bobby-cue you dis\nday, sho,' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit talk mighty 'umble.\n\n\"'I don't keer w'at you do wid me, Brer Fox,' sezee, 'so you\ndon't fling me in dat brier-patch. Roas' me, Brer Fox' sezee,\n'but don't fling me in dat brierpatch,' sezee.\n\n\"'Hit's so much trouble fer ter kindle a fier,' sez Brer Fox,\nsezee, 'dat I speck I'll hatter hang you,' sezee.\n\n\"'Hang me des ez high as you please, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit,\nsezee, 'but do fer de Lord's sake don't fling me in dat brier-\npatch,' sezee.\n\n\"'I ain't got no string,' sez Brer Fox, sezee, 'en now I speck\nI'll hatter drown you,' sezee.\n\n\"'Drown me des ez deep ez you please, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit,\nsezee, 'but do don't fling me in dat brier-patch,' sezee.\n\n\"'Dey ain't no water nigh,' sez Brer Fox, sezee, 'en now I speck\nI'll hatter skin you,' sezee.\n\n\"'Skin me, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'snatch out my\neyeballs, t'ar out my years by de roots, en cut off my legs,'\nsezee, 'but do please, Brer Fox, don't fling me in dat brier-\npatch,' sezee.\n\n\"Co'se Brer Fox wanter hurt Brer Rabbit bad ez he kin, so he\ncotch 'im by de behime legs en slung 'im right in de middle er de\nbrier-patch. Dar wuz a considerbul flutter whar Brer Rabbit\nstruck de bushes, en Brer Fox sorter hang 'roun' fer ter see w'at\nwuz gwineter happen. Bimeby he hear somebody call 'im, en way up\nde hill he see Brer Rabbit settin' crosslegged on a chinkapin log\nkoamin' de pitch outen his har wid a chip. Den Brer Fox know dat\nhe bin swop off mighty bad. Brer Rabbit wuz bleedzed fer ter\nfling back some er his sass, en he holler out:\n\n\"'Bred en bawn in a brier-patch, Brer Fox--bred en bawn in a\nbrier-patch!' en wid dat he skip out des ez lively ez a cricket\nin de embers.\"\n\n\nV.  THE STORY OF THE DELUGE AND HOW IT CAME ABOUT\n\n\"ONE time,\" said Uncle Remus--adjusting his spectacles so as to\nbe able to see how to thread a large darning-needle with which he\nwas patching his coat--\"one time, way back yander, 'fo' you wuz\nbomed, honey, en 'fo' Mars John er Miss Sally wuz bomed--way back\nyander 'fo' enny un us wuz bomed, de animils en de creeturs\nsorter 'lecshuneer roun' 'mong deyselves, twel at las' dey 'greed\nfer ter have a 'sembly. In dem days,\" continued the old man,\nobserving a look of incredulity on the little boy's face, \"in dem\ndays creeturs had lots mo' sense dan dey got now; let 'lone dat,\ndey had sense same like folks. Hit was tech en go wid um, too,\nmon, en w'en dey make up der mines w'at hatter be done, 'twant\nmo'n menshun'd 'fo, hit wuz done. Well, dey 'lected dat dey\nhatter hol' er 'sembly fer ter sorter straighten out marters en\nhear de complaints, en w'en de day come dey wuz on han'. De Lion,\nhe wuz dar, kase he wuz de king, en he hatter be der. De\nRhynossyhoss, he wuz dar, en de Elephant, he wuz dar, en de\nCammils, en de Cows, en plum' down ter de Crawfishes, dey wuz\ndar. Dey wuz all dar. En w'en de Lion shuck his mane, en tuck his\nseat in de big cheer, den de sesshun begun fer ter commence.\n\n\"What did they do, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"I can't skacely call to mine 'zackly w'at dey did do, but dey\nspoke speeches, en hollered, en cusst, en flung der langwidge\n'roun' des like w'en yo' daddy wuz gwineter run fer de legislater\nen got lef'. Howsomever, dey 'ranged der 'fairs, en splained der\nbizness. Bimeby, w'ile dey wuz 'sputin' 'longer one er nudder, de\nElephant trompled on one er de Crawfishes. Co'se w'en dat creetur\nput his foot down, w'atsumever's under dar wuz boun' fer ter be\nsqushed, en dey wa'n't nuff er dat Crawfish lef' fer ter tell dat\nhe'd bin dar.\n\n\"Dis make de udder Crawfishes mighty mad, en dey sorter swarmed\ntergedder en draw'd up a kinder peramble wid some wharfo'es in\nit, en read her out in de 'sembly. But, bless grashus! sech a\nracket wuz a gwine on dat nobody ain't hear it, 'ceppin' maybe de\nMud Turkle en de Spring Lizzud, en dere enfloons wuz pow'ful\nlackin'.\n\n\"Bimeby, w'iles de Nunicorn wuz 'sputin' wid de Lion, en w'ile de\nHyener wuz a laughin' ter hisse'f, de Elephant squshed anudder\none er de Crawfishes, en a little mo'n he'd er ruint de Mud\nTurkle. Den de Crawfishes, w'at dey wuz lef' un um, swarmed\ntergedder en draw'd up anudder peramble wid sum mo' wharfo'es;\nbut dey might ez well er sung Ole Dan Tucker ter a harrycane. De\nudder creeturs wuz too busy wid der fussin' fer ter 'spon' unto\nde Crawfishes. So dar dey wuz, de Crawfishes, en dey didn't know\nw'at minnit wuz gwineter be de nex'; en dey kep' on gittin madder\nen madder en skeerder en skeerder, twel bimeby dey gun de wink\nter de Mud Turkle en de Spring Lizzud, en den dey bo'd little\nholes in de groun' en went down outer sight.\"\n\n\"Who did, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"De Crawfishes, honey. Dey bo'd inter de groun' en kep' on bo'in\ntwel dey onloost de fountains er de yeth; en de waters squirt\nout, en riz higher en higher twel de hills wuz kivvered, en de\ncreeturs wuz all drownded; en all bekaze dey let on 'mong\ndeyselves dat dey wuz bigger dan de Crawfishes.\"\n\nThen the old man blew the ashes from a smoking yam, and\nproceeded to remove the peeling.\n\n\"Where was the ark, Uncle Remus?\" the little boy inquired,\npresently.\n\n\"W'ich ark's dat?\" asked the old man, in a tone of well-feigned\ncuriosity.\n\n\"Noah's ark,\" replied the child.\n\n\"Don't you pester wid ole man Noah, honey. I boun' he tuck keer\ner dat ark. Dat's w'at he wuz dar fer, en dat's w'at he done.\nLeas'ways, dat's w'at dey tells me. But don't you bodder longer\ndat ark, 'ceppin' your mammy fetches it up. Dey mout er bin two\ndeloojes, en den agin dey moutent. Ef dey wuz enny ark in dish\nyer w'at de Crawfishes brung on, I ain't heern tell un it, en\nw'en dey ain't no arks 'roun', I ain't got no time fer ter make\num en put um in dar. Hit's gittin' yo' bedtime, honey.\"\n\n\nVI. MR. RABBIT GROSSLY DECEIVES MR. FOX\n\nONE evening when the little boy, whose nights with Uncle Remus\nwere as entertaining as those Arabian ones of blessed memory, had\nfinished supper and hurried out to sit with his venerable patron,\nhe found the old man in great glee. Indeed, Uncle Remus was\ntalking and laughing to himself at such a rate that the little\nboy was afraid he had company. The truth is, Uncle Remus had\nheard the child coming, and, when the rosy-cheeked chap put his\nhead in at the door, was engaged in a monologue, the burden of\nwhich seemed to be--\n\n\"Ole Molly Har',\nW'at you doin' dar,\nSettin' in de cornder\nSmokin' yo' seegyar?\"\n\nAs a matter of course this vague allusion reminded the little boy\nof the fact that the wicked Fox was still in pursuit of the\nRabbit, and he immediately put his curiosity in the shape of a\nquestion.\n\n\"Uncle Remus, did the Rabbit have to go clean away when he got\nloose from the Tar-Baby?\"\n\n\"Bless gracious, honey, dat he didn't. Who? Him? You dunno\nnuthin' 'tall 'bout Brer Rabbit ef dat's de way you puttin' 'im\ndown. W'at he gwine 'way fer? He moughter stayed sorter close\ntwel de pitch rub off'n his ha'r, but tweren't menny days 'fo' he\nwuz lopin' up en down de neighborhood same ez ever, en I dunno ef\nhe weren't mo' sassier dan befo'.\n\n\"Seem like dat de tale 'bout how he got mixt up wid de Tar-Baby\ngot 'roun' 'mongst de nabers. Leas'ways, Miss Meadows en de gals\ngot win' un' it, en de nex' time Brer Rabbit paid um a visit\nMiss Meadows tackled 'im 'bout it, en de gals sot up a monstus\ngigglement. Brer Rabbit, he sot up des ez cool ez a cowcumber, he\ndid, en let em run on.\n\n\"Who was Miss Meadows, Uncle Remus?\" inquired the little boy.\n\n\"Don't ax me, honey. She wuz in de tale, Miss Meadows en de gals\nwuz, en de tale I give you like hi't wer' gun ter me. Brer\nRabbit, he sot dar, he did, sorter lam' like, en den bimeby he\ncross his legs, he did, and wink his eye slow, en up and say,\nsezee:\n\n\"'Ladies, Brer Fox wuz my daddy's ridin'-hoss fer thirty year;\nmaybe mo', but thirty year dat I knows un,' sezee; en den he paid\num his 'specks, en tip his beaver, en march off, he did, des ez\nstiff en ez stuck up ez a fire-stick.\n\n\"Nex' day, Brer Fox cum a callin', and w'en he gun fer ter laugh\n'bout Brer Rabbit, Miss Meadows en de gals, dey ups en tells 'im\n'bout w'at Brer Rabbit Say. Den Brer Fox grit his tushes sho'\nnuff, he did, en he look mighty dumpy, but w'en he riz fer ter go\nhe up en say, sezee:\n\n\"'Ladies, I ain't 'sputin' w'at you say, but I'll make Brer\nRabbit chaw up his words en spit um out right yer whar you kin\nsee 'im,' sezee, en wid dat off Brer Fox put.\n\n\"En w'en he got in de big road, he shuck de dew off'n his tail,\nen made a straight shoot fer Brer Rabbit's house. W'en he got\ndar, Brer Rabbit wuz spectin' un 'im, en de do' wuz shet fas'.\nBrer Fox knock. Nobody ain't ans'er. Brer Fox knock. Nobody\nans'er. Den he knock agin--blam! blam! Den Brer Rabbit holler out\nmighty weak: 'Is dat you, Brer Fox? I want you ter run en fetch\nde doctor. Dat bait er pusly w'at I e't dis mawnin' is gittin'\n'way wid me. Do, please, Brer Fox, run quick,' sez Brer Rabbit,\nsezee.\n\n\"'I come atter you, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Fox, sezee. 'Dar's\ngwineter be a party up at Miss Meadows's,' sezee. 'All de gals\n'll be dere, en I prommus' dat I'd fetch you. De gals, dey 'lowed\ndat hit wouldn't be no party 'ceppin' I fotch you,' sez Brer Fox,\nsezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit say he wuz too sick, en Brer Fox say he wuzzent,\nen dar dey had it up and down, 'sputin' en contendin'. Brer\nRabbit say he can't walk. Brer Fox say he tote 'im. Brer Rabbit\nsay how? Brer Fox say in his arms. Brer Rabbit say he drap 'im.\nBrer Fox 'low he won't. Bimeby Brer Rabbit say he go ef Brer Fox\ntote 'im on his back. Brer Fox say he would. Brer Rabbit say he\ncan't ride widout a saddle. Brer Fox say he git de saddle. Brer\nRabbit say he can't set in saddle less he have bridle fer ter\nhol' by. Brer Fox say he git de bridle. Brer Rabbit say he can't\nride widout bline bridle, kaze Brer Fox be shyin' at stumps long\nde road, en fling 'im off. Brer Fox say he git bline bridle. Den\nBrer Rabbit say he go. Den Brer Fox say he ride Brer Rabbit mos'\nup ter Miss Meadows's, en den he could git down en walk de\nbalance er de way. Brer Rabbit 'greed, en den Brer Fox lipt out\natter de saddle en de bridle.\n\n\"Co'se Brer Rabbit know de game dat Brer Fox wuz fixin' fer ter\nplay, en he 'termin' fer ter outdo 'im, en by de time he koam his\nha'r en twis' his mustarsh, en sorter rig up, yer come Brer Fox,\nsaddle en bridle on, en lookin' ez peart ez a circus pony. He\ntrot up ter de do' en stan' dar pawin' de ground en chompin' de\nbit same like sho 'nuff hoss, en Brer Rabbit he mount, he did, en\ndey amble off. Brer Fox can't see behime wid de bline bridle on,\nbut bimeby he feel Brer Rabbit raise one er his foots.\n\n\"'W'at you doin' now, Brer Rabbit?' sezee.\n\n\"'Short'nin' de lef stir'p, Brer Fox,' sezee.\n\n\"Bimeby Brer Rabbit raise up de udder foot.\n\n\"'W'at you doin' now, Brer Rabbit?' sezee.\n\n\"'Pullin' down my pants, Brer Fox,' sezee.\n\n\"All de time, bless grashus, honey, Brer Rabbit wer' puttin' on\nhis spurrers, en w'en dey got close to Miss Meadows's, whar Brer\nRabbit wuz to git off, en Brer Fox made a motion fer ter stan'\nstill, Brer Rabbit slap de spurrers into Brer Fox flanks, en you\nbetter b'leeve he got over groun'. W'en dey got ter de house,\nMiss Meadows en all de gals wuz settin' on de peazzer, en stidder\nstoppin' at de gate, Brer Rabbit rid on by, he did, en den come\ngallopin' down de road en up ter de hoss-rack, w'ich he hitch\nBrer Fox at, en den he santer inter de house, he did, en shake\nhan's wid de gals, en set dar, smokin' his seegyar same ez a town\nman. Bimeby he draw in a long puff, en den let hit out in a\ncloud, en squar hisse'f back en holler out, he did:\n\n\"'Ladies, ain't I done tell you Brer Fox wuz de ridin'-hoss fer\nour fambly? He sorter losin' his gait now, but I speck I kin\nfetch 'im all right in a mont' er so,' sezee.\n\n\"En den Brer Rabbit sorter grin, he did, en de gals giggle, en\nMiss Meadows, she praise up de pony, en dar wuz Brer Fox hitch\nfas' ter de rack, en couldn't he'p hisse'f.\"\n\n\"Is that all, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy as the old man\npaused.\n\n\"Dat ain't all, honey, but 'twon't do fer ter give out too\nmuch cloff fer ter cut one pa'r pants,\" replied the old man\nsententiously.\n\n\nVII. MR. FOX IS AGAIN VICTIMIZED\n\nWHEN \"Miss Sally's\" little boy went to Uncle Remus the next\nnight to hear the conclusion of the adventure in which the Rabbit\nmade a riding-horse of the Fox to the great enjoyment and\ngratification of Miss Meadows and the girls, he found the old man\nin a bad humor.\n\n\"I ain't tellin' no tales ter bad chilluns,\" said Uncle Remus\ncurtly.\n\n\"But, Uncle Remus, I ain't bad,\" said the little boy plaintively.\n\n\"Who dat chunkin' dem chickens dis mawnin? Who dat knockin' out\nfokes's eyes wid dat Yallerbammer sling des 'fo' dinner? Who dat\nsickin' dat pinter puppy atter my pig? Who dat scatterin' my\ningun sets? Who dat flingin' rocks on top er my house, w'ich a\nlittle mo' en one un em would er drap spang on my head?\"\n\n\"Well, now, Uncle Remus, I didn't go to do it. I won't do so any\nmore. Please, Uncle Remus, if you will tell me, I'll run to the\nhouse and bring you some tea-cakes.\"\n\n\"Seein' um's better'n hearin' tell un um, replied the old man,\nthe severity of his countenance relaxing somewhat; but the little\nboy darted out, and in a few minutes came running back with his\npockets full and his hands full.\n\n\"I lay yo' mammy 'll 'spishun dat de rats' stummicks is widenin'\nin dis neighborhood w'en she come fer ter count up 'er cakes,\"\nsaid Uncle Remus, with a chuckle. \"Deze,\" he continued, dividing\nthe cakes into two equal parts--\"dese I'll tackle now, en dese\nI'll lay by fer Sunday.\n\n\"Lemme see. I mos' dis'member wharbouts Brer Fox en Brer Rabbit\nwuz.\"\n\n\"The rabbit rode the fox to Miss Meadows's,  and hitched him to\nthe horse-rack,\"  said the little boy.\n\n\"W'y co'se he did,\" said Uncle Remus. \"C'ose he did. Well, Brer\nRabbit rid Brer Fox up, he did, en tied 'im to de rack, en den\nsot out in de peazzer wid de gals a smokin' er his seegyar wid\nmo' proudness dan w'at you mos' ever see. Dey talk, en dey sing,\nen dey play on de peanner, de gals did, twel bimeby hit come time\nfer Brer Rabbit fer to be gwine, en he tell um all good-by, en\nstrut out to de hoss-rack same's ef he wuz de king er de patter-\nrollers,*1 en den he mount Brer Fox en ride off.\n\n\"Brer Fox ain't sayin' nuthin' 'tall. He des rack off, he did, en\nkeep his mouf shet, en Brer Rabbit know'd der wuz bizness cookin'\nup fer him, en he feel monstus skittish. Brer Fox amble on twel\nhe git in de long lane, outer sight er Miss Meadows's house, en\nden he tu'n loose, he did. He rip en he ra'r, en he cuss, en he\nswar; he snort en he cavort.\"\n\n\"What was he doing that for, Uncle Remus?\" the little boy\ninquired.\n\n\"He wuz tryin' fer ter fling Brer Rabbit off'n his back, bless\nyo' soul! But he des might ez well er rastle wid his own shadder.\nEvery time he hump hisse'f Brer Rabbit slap de spurrers in 'im,\nen dar dey had it, up en down. Brer Fox fa'rly to' up de groun'\nhe did, en he jump so high en he jump so quick dat he mighty nigh\nsnatch his own tail off. Dey kep' on gwine on dis way twel bimeby\nBrer Fox lay down en roll over, he did, en dis sorter onsettle\nBrer Rabbit, but by de time Brer Fox got back on his footses\nagin, Brer Rabbit wuz gwine thoo de underbresh mo' samer dan a\nrace-hoss. Brer Fox he lit out atter 'im, he did, en he push Brer\nRabbit so close dat it wuz 'bout all he could do fer ter git in a\nholler tree. Hole too little fer Brer Fox fer ter git in, en he\nhatter lay down en res en gedder his mine tergedder.\n\n\"While he wuz layin' dar, Mr. Buzzard come floppin' 'long, en\nseein' Brer Fox stretch out on de groun', he lit en view de\npremusses. Den Mr. Buzzard sorter shake his wing, en put his head\non one side, en say to hisse'f like, sezee:\n\n\"'Brer Fox dead, en I so sorry,' sezee.\n\n\"'No I ain't dead, nudder,' sez Brer Fox, sezee. 'I got ole man\nRabbit pent up in yer,' sezee, 'en I'm a gwine ter git 'im dis\ntime ef it take twel Chris'mus,' sezee.\n\n\"Den, atter some mo' palaver, Brer Fox make a bargain dat Mr.\nBuzzard wuz ter watch de hole, en keep Brer Rabbit dar wiles Brer\nFox went atter his axe. Den Brer Fox, he lope off, he did, en Mr.\nBuzzard, he tuck up his stan' at de hole. Bimeby, w'en all git\nstill, Brer Rabbit sorter scramble down close ter de hole, he\ndid, en holler out:\n\n\"'Brer Fox! Oh! Brer Fox!'\n\n\"Brer Fox done gone, en nobody say nuthin'. Den Brer Rabbit\nsquall out like he wuz mad; sezee:\n\n\"'You needn't talk less you wanter,' sezee; 'I knows you er dar,\nen I ain't keerin',' sezee. 'I des wanter tell you dat I wish\nmighty bad Brer Tukkey Buzzard wuz here,' sezee.\n\n\"Den Mr. Buzzard try ter talk like Brer Fox:\n\n\"'W'at you want wid Mr. Buzzard?' sezee.\n\n\"'Oh, nuthin' in 'tickler, 'cep' dere's de fattes' gray squir'l\nin yer dat ever I see,' sezee, 'en ef Brer Tukkey Buzzard wuz\n'roun' he'd be mighty glad fer ter git 'im,' sezee.\n\n\"'How Mr. Buzzard gwine ter git 'im?' sez de Buzzard, sezee.\n\n\"'Well, dar's a little hole roun' on de udder side er de tree,'\nsez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en ef Brer Tukkey Buzzard wuz here so he\ncould take up his stan' dar,' sezee, 'I'd drive dat squir'l out,'\nsezee.\n\n\"'Drive 'im out, den,' sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee, 'en I'll see dat\nBrer Tukkey Buzzard gits 'im,' sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit kick up a racket, like he wer' drivin' sumpin'\nout, en Mr. Buzzard he rush 'roun' fer ter ketch de squir'l, en\nBrer Rabbit, he dash out, he did, en he des fly fer home.\"\n\nAt this point Uncle Remus took one of the teacakes, held his head\nback, opened his mouth, dropped the cake in with a sudden motion,\nlooked at the little boy with an expression of astonishment,\nand then closed his eyes, and begun to chew, mumbling as an\naccompaniment the plaintive tune of \"Don't you Grieve atter Me.\"\n\nThe seance was over; but, before the little boy went into the\n\"big house,\" Uncle Remus laid his rough hand tenderly on the\nchild's shoulder, and remarked, in a confidential tone:\n\n\"Honey, you mus' git up soon Chris'mus mawnin' en open de do';\nkase I'm gwineter bounce in on Marse John en Miss Sally, en\nholler 'Chris'mus gif'' des like I useter endurin' de farmin'\ndays fo' de war, w'en ole Miss wuz 'live. I bound' dey don't\nfergit de ole nigger, nudder. W'en you hear me callin' de pigs,\nhoney, you des hop up en onfassen de do'. I lay I'll give Marse\nJohn one er dese yer 'sprize parties.\"\n\n*1 Patrols. In the country districts, order was kept on the\n   plantations at night by the knowledge that they were liable\n   to be visited at any moment by the patrols. Hence a song\n   current among the negroes, the chorus of which was:\n\n     \"Run, nigger, run; patter-roller ketch you--\n      Run, nigger, run; hit's almos' day.\"\n\n\nVIII. MR. FOX IS \"OUTDONE\" BY MR. BUZZARD\n\n\"EF I don't run inter no mistakes,\" remarked Uncle Remus, as the\nlittle boy came tripping in to see him after supper, \"Mr. Tukkey\nBuzzard wuz gyardin' de holler whar Brer Rabbit went in at, en\nw'ich he come out un.\"\n\nThe silence of the little boy verified the old man's\nrecollection.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Buzzard, he feel mighty lonesome, he did, but he done\nprommust Brer Fox dat he'd stay, en he 'termin' fer ter sorter\nhang 'roun' en jine in de joke. En he ain't hatter wait long,\nnudder, kase bimeby yer come Brer Fox gallopin' thoo de woods wid\nhis axe on his shoulder.\n\n\"'How you speck Brer Rabbit gittin' on, Brer Buzzard?' sez Brer\nFox, sezee.\n\n\"'Oh, he in dar,' sez Brer Buzzard, sezee. 'He mighty still,\ndough. I speck he takin' a nap,' sezee.\n\n\"'Den I'm des in time fer ter wake im up, sez Brer Fox, sezee. En\nwid dat he fling off his coat, en spit in his han's, en grab de\naxe. Den he draw back en come down on de tree--pow! En eve'y time\nhe come down wid de axe--pow!--Mr. Buzzard, he step high, he did,\nen holler out:\n\n\"'Oh, he in dar, Brer Fox. He in dar, sho.'\n\n\"En eve'y time a chip ud fly off, Mr. Buzzard, he'd jump, en\ndodge, en hol' his head sideways, he would, en holler:\n\n\"'He in dar, Brer Fox. I done heerd 'im. He in dar, sho.'\n\n\"En Brer Fox, he lammed away at dat holler tree, he did, like a\nman maulin' rails, twel bimeby, atter he done got de tree mos'\ncut thoo, he stop fer ter ketch his bref, en he seed Mr. Buzzard\nlaughin' behime his back, he did, en right den en dar, widout\ngwine enny fudder, Brer Fox, he smelt a rat. But Mr. Buzzard, he\nkeep on holler'n:\n\n\"'He in dar, Brer Fox. He in dar, sho. I done seed 'im.'\n\n\"Den Brer Fox, he make like he peepin' up de holler, en he say,\nsezee:\n\n\"'Run yer, Brer Buzzard, en look ef dis ain't Brer Rabbit's foot\nhanging down yer.'\n\n\"En Mr. Buzzard, he come steppin' up, he did, same ez ef he wer\ntreddin' on kurkle-burs, en he stick his head in de hole; en no\nsooner did he done dat dan Brer Fox grab 'im. Mr. Buzzard flap\nhis wings, en scramble 'roun' right smartually, he did, but\n'twant no use. Brer Fox had de 'vantage er de grip, he did, en he\nhilt 'im right down ter de groun'. Den Mr. Buzzard squall out,\nsezee:\n\n\"'Lemme 'lone, Brer Fox. Tu'n me loose,' sezee; 'Brer Rabbit 'll\ngit out. You er gittin' close at 'im,' sezee, 'en leb'm mo'\nlicks'll fetch 'im,' sezee.\n\n\"'I'm nigher ter you, Brer Buzzard,' sez Brer Fox, sezee, 'dan\nI'll be ter Brer Rabbit dis day,' sezee. 'W'at you fool me fer?'\nsezee.\n\n\"'Lemme lone, Brer Fox,' sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee; my ole 'oman\nwaitin' fer me. Brer Rabbit in dar,' sezee.\n\n\"'Dar's a bunch er his fur on dat black-be'y bush,' sez Brer Fox,\nsezee, 'en dat ain't de way he come,' sezee.\n\n\"Den Mr. Buzzard up'n tell Brer Fox how 'twuz, en he 'low'd, Mr.\nBuzzard did, dat Brer Rabbit wuz de lowdownest w'atsizname w'at\nhe ever run up wid. Den Brer Fox say, sezee:\n\n\"'Dat's needer here ner dar, Brer Buzzard,' sezee. 'I lef' you\nyer fer ter watch dish yere hole, en I lef' Brer Rabbit in dar. I\ncomes back en I fines you at de 'ole en Brer Rabbit ain't in\ndar,' sezee. 'I'm gwineter make you pay fer't. I done bin\ntampered wid twel plum' down ter de sap sucker'll set on a log en\nsassy me. I'm gwineter fling you in a bresh-heap en burn you up,'\nsezee.\n\n\"'Ef you fling me on der fier, Brer Fox, I'll fly 'way,' sez Mr.\nBuzzard, sezee.\n\n\"'Well, den, I'll settle yo' hash right now,' sez Brer Fox,\nsezee, en wid dat he grab Mr. Buzzard by de tail, he did, en make\nfer ter dash 'im 'gin de groun', but des 'bout dat time de tail\nfedders come out, en Mr. Buzzard sail off like one er dese yer\nberloons; en ez he riz, he holler back:\n\n\"'You gimme good start, Brer Fox,' sezee, en Brer Fox sot dar en\nwatch 'im fly outer sight.\"\n\n\"But what became of the Rabbit, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little\nboy.\n\n\"Don't you pester longer Brer Rabbit, honey, en don't you fret\n'bout 'im. You'll year whar he went en how he come out. Dish yer\ncol' snap rastles wid my bones, now,\" continued the old man,\nputting on his hat and picking up his walking-stick. \"Hit rastles\nwid me monstus, en I gotter rack 'roun' en see if I kin run up\nagin some Chris'mus leavin's.\"\n\n\nIX.  MISS COW FALLS A VICTIM TO MR. RABBIT\n\n\"UNCLE REMUS,\" said the little boy, \"what became of the Rabbit\nafter he fooled the Buzzard, and got out of the hollow tree?\"\n\n\"Who? Brer Rabbit? Bless yo' soul, honey, Brer Rabbit went\nskippin' long home, he did, des ez sassy ez a jay-bird at a\nsparrer's nes'. He went gallopin' 'long, he did, but he feel\nmighty fired out, en stiff in his jints, en he wuz mighty nigh\ndead for sumpin fer ter drink, en bimeby, w'en he got mos' home,\nhe spied ole Miss Cow feedin' roun' in a fiel', he did, en he\n'termin' fer ter try his han' wid 'er. Brer Rabbit know mighty\nwell dat Miss Cow won't give 'im no milk, kaze she done 'fuse 'im\nmo'n once, en w'en his ole 'oman wuz sick, at dat. But never mind\ndat. Brer Rabbit sorter dance up long side er de fence, he did,\nen holler out:\n\n\"'Howdy, Sis Cow,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'W'y, howdy, Brer Rabbit,' sez Miss Cow, sez she.\n\n\"'How you fine yo'se'f deze days, Sis Cow?' sez Brer Rabbit,\nsezee.\n\n\"'I'm sorter toler'ble, Brer Rabbit; how you come on?' sez Miss\nCow, sez she.\n\n\"'Oh, I'm des toler'ble myse'f, Sis Cow; sorter linger'n' twix' a\nbauk en a break-down,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'How yo' fokes, Brer Rabbit?' sez Miss Cow, sez she.\n\n\"'Dey er des middlin', Sis Cow; how Brer Bull gittin' on?' sez\nBrer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'Sorter so-so,' sez Miss Cow, sez she.\n\n\"'Dey er some mighty nice 'simmons up dis tree, Sis Cow,' sez\nBrer Rabbit, sezee, 'en I'd like mighty well fer ter have some un\num,' sezee.\n\n\"'How you gwineter git um, Brer Rabbit?' sez she.\n\n\"'I 'lowed maybe dat I might ax you fer ter butt 'gin de tree, en\nshake some down, Sis Cow,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"C'ose Miss Cow don't wanter diskommerdate Brer Rabbit, en she\nmarch up ter de 'simmon tree, she did, en hit it a rap wid 'er\nhorns--blam! Now, den,\" continued Uncle Remus, tearing off the\ncomer of a plug of tobacco and cramming it into his mouth--\"now,\nden, dem 'simmons wuz green ez grass, en na'er one never drap.\nDen Miss Cow butt de tree--blim! Na'er 'simmon drap. Den Miss\nCow sorter back off little, en run agin de tree--blip! No\n'simmons never drap. Den Miss Cow back off little fudder, she\ndid, en hi'st her tail on 'er back, en come agin de tree,\nkerblam! en she come so fas', en she come so hard, twel one 'er\nher horns went spang thoo de tree, en dar she wuz. She can't go\nforerds, en she can't go backerds. Dis zackly w'at Brer Rabbit\nwaitin' fer, en he no sooner seed ole Miss Cow all fas'en'd up\ndan he jump up, he did, en cut de pidjin-wing.\n\n\"'Come he'p me out, Brer Rabbit,' sez Miss Cow, sez she.\n\n\"'I can't clime, Sis Cow,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'but I'll\nrun'n tell Brer Bull,' sezee; en wid dat Brer Rabbit put out fer\nhome, en 'twan't long 'fo here he come wid his ole 'oman en all\nhis chilluns, en de las' one er de fambly wuz totin' a pail. De\nbig uns had big pails, en de little uns had little pails. En dey\nall s'roundid ole Miss Cow, dey did, en you hear me, honey, dey\nmilk't 'er dry. De ole uns milk't en de young uns milk't, en den\nw'en dey done got nuff, Brer Rabbit, he up'n say, sezee:\n\n\"'I wish you mighty well, Sis Cow. I 'low'd, bein's how dat you'd\nhatter sorter camp out all night dat I'd better come en swaje yo'\nbag,' sezee.\"\n\n\"Do which, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Go long, honey! Swaje 'er bag. W'en cows don't git milk't, der\nbag swells, en you k'n hear um a moanin' en a beller'n des like\ndey wuz gittin' hurtid. Dat's w'at Brer Rabbit done. He 'sembled\nhis fambly, he did, en he swaje ole Miss Cow's bag.\n\n\"Miss Cow, she stood dar, she did, en she study en study, en\nstrive fer ter break loose, but de horn done bin jam in de tree\nso tight dat twuz way 'fo day in de mornin' 'fo' she loose it.\nAnyhow hit wuz endurin' er de night, en atter she git loose she\nsorter graze 'roun', she did, fer ter jestify 'er stummuck she\nlow'd, ole Miss Cow did, dat Brer Rabbit be hoppin' long dat way\nfer ter see how she gittin' on, en she tuck'n lay er trap fer\n'im; en des 'bout sunrise w'at'd ole Miss Cow do but march up ter\nde 'simmon tree en stick er horn back in de hole? But, bless yo'\nsoul, honey, w'ile she wuz croppin' de grass she tuck one mou'ful\ntoo menny, kaze w'en she hitch on ter de 'simmon tree agin, Brer\nRabbit wuz settin' in de fence cornder a watchin' un 'er. Den\nBrer Rabbit he say ter hisse'f:\n\n\"'Heyo,' sezee, 'w'at dis yer gwine on now? Hol' yo' hosses, Sis\nCow, twel you hear me comin',' sezee.\n\n\"En den he crope off down de fence, Brer Rabbit did, en bimeby\nhere he come--lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity--des a sailin'\ndown de big road.\n\n\"'Mornin', Sis Cow,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'bow you come on dis\nmornin'?' sezee.\n\n\"Po'ly, Brer Rabbit, poly,' sez Miss Cow, sez she. 'I ain't had\nno res' all night,' sez she. 'I can't pull loose,' sez she, 'but\nef you'll come en ketch holt er my tail, Brer Rabbit,' sez she,\n'I reckin may be I kin fetch my horn out,' sez she. Den Brer\nRabbit, he come up little closer, but he ain't gittin' too close.\n\n\"'I speck I'm nigh nuff, Sis Cow,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. 'I'm a\nmighty puny man, en I might git trompled,' sezee. 'You do de\npullin', Sis Cow,' sezee, en I'll do de gruntin,' sezee.\n\n\"Den Miss Cow, she pull out 'er horn, she did, en tuck atter Brer\nRabbit, en down de big road dey had it, Brer Rabbit wid his years\nlaid back, en Miss Cow wid 'er head down en 'er tail curl. Brer\nRabbit kep' on gainin', en bimeby he dart in a brier-patch, en by\nde time Miss Cow come long he had his head stickin' out, en his\neyes look big ez Miss Sally's chany sassers.\n\n\"'Heyo, Sis Cow! whar you gwine?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'Howdy, Brer Big-Eyes,' sez Miss Cow, sez she. 'Is you seed Brer\nRabbit go by?'\n\n\"'He des dis minit pass,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en he look\nmighty sick,' sezee.\n\n\"En wid dat, Miss Cow tuck down de road like de dogs wuz atter\ner, en Brer Rabbit, he des lay down dar in de brier-patch en roll\nen laugh twel his sides hurtid 'im. He bleedzd ter laff. Fox\natter 'im, Buzzard atter 'im, en Cow atter 'im, en dey ain't\nkotch 'im yet.\"\n\n\nX.  MR. TERRAPIN APPEARS UPON THE SCENE\n\n\"MISS SALLY'S\" little boy again occupying the anxious position\nof auditor, Uncle Remus took the shovel and \"put de noses er de\nchunks tergedder,\" as he expressed it, and then began:\n\n\"One day, atter Sis Cow done run pas' 'er own shadder tryin' fer\nter ketch 'im. Brer Rabbit tuck'n 'low dat he wuz gwineter drap\nin\nen see Miss Meadows en de gals, en he got out his piece er\nlookin'-glass en primp up, he did, en sot out. Gwine canterin'\nlong de road, who should Brer Rabbit run up wid but ole Brer\nTarrypin--de same ole one-en-sixpunce. Brer Rabbit stop, he did,\nen rap on de roof er Brer Tarrypin house.\"\n\n\"On the roof of his house, Uncle Remus?\" interrupted the little\nboy.\n\n\"Co'se honey, Brer Tarrypin kyar his house wid 'im. Rain er\nshine, hot er col', strike up wid ole Brer Tarrypin w'en you\nwill en w'ilst you may, en whar you fine 'im, dar you'll fine\nhis shanty. Hit's des like I tell you. So den! Brer Rabbit he\nrap on de roof er Brer Tarrypin's house, he did, en ax wuz he\nin, en Brer Tarrypin 'low dat he wuz, en den Brer Rabbit, he ax\n'im howdy, en den Brer Tarrypin he likewise 'spon' howdy, en den\nBrer Rabbit he say whar wuz Brer Tarrypin gwine, en Brer\nTarrypin, he say w'ich he wern't gwine nowhar skasely. Den Brer\nRabbit 'low he wuz on his way fer ter see Miss Meadows en de\ngals, en he ax Brer Tarrypin ef he won't jine in en go long, en\nBrer Tarrypin 'spon' he don't keer ef he do, en den dey sot out.\nDey had plenty er time fer confabbin' 'long de way, but bimeby\ndey got dar, en Miss Meadows en de gals dey come ter de do', dey\ndid, en ax um in, en in dey went.\n\n\"W'en dey got in, Brer Tarrypin wuz so flat-footed dat he wuz too\nlow on de flo', en he wern't high nuff in a cheer, but while dey\nwuz all scrambling' 'roun' tryin' fer ter git Brer Tarrypin a\ncheer, Brer Rabbit, he pick 'im up en put 'im on de shelf whar de\nwater-bucket sot, en ole Brer Tarrypin, he lay back up dar, he\ndid, des es proud ez a nigger wid a cook possum.\n\n\"Co'se de talk fell on Brer Fox, en Miss Meadows en de gals make\na great 'miration 'bout w'at a gaily ridin'-hoss Brer Fox wuz, en\ndey make lots er fun, en laugh en giggle same like gals duz deze\ndays. Brer Rabbit, he sot dar in de cheer smokin' his seegyar, en\nhe sorter cle'r up his th'oat, en say, sezee:\n\n\"I'd er rid 'im over dis mawnin', ladies,' sezee, but I rid 'im\nso hard yistiddy dat he went lame in de off fo' leg, en I speck\nI'll hatter swop 'im off yit,' sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Tarrypin, he up'n say, sezee:\n\n\"'Well, ef you gwineter sell 'im, Brer Rabbit,' sezee, 'sell him\nsome'rs out'n dis naberhood, kase he done bin yer too long now,'\nsezee. 'No longer'n day 'fo' yistiddy,' sezee, 'Brer Fox pass me\non de road, en whatter you reckin he say?' sezee:\n\n\"'Law, Brer Tarrypin,' sez Miss Meadows, sez she, 'you don't mean\nter say he cusst?' sez she, en den de gals hilt der fans up 'fo'\nder faces.\n\n\"'Oh, no, ma'am,' sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, 'he didn't cusst, but\nhe holler out--\"Heyo, Stinkin' Jim!\"' sezee.\n\n\"'Oh, my! You hear dat, gals?' sez Miss Meadows, sez she; 'Brer\nFox call Brer Tarrypin Stinkin' Jim,' sez she, en den Miss\nMeadows en de gals make great wonderment how Brer Fox kin talk\ndat a way 'bout nice man like Brer Tarrypin.\n\n\"But bless grashus, honey! w'ilst all dis gwine on, Brer Fox wuz\nstannin' at de back do' wid one year at de cat-hole lissenin'.\nEave-drappers don't hear no good er deyse'f, en de way Brer Fox\nwuz 'bused dat day wuz a caution.\n\n\"Bimeby Brer Fox stick his head in de do', en holler out:\n\n\"'Good evenin', fokes, I wish you mighty well,' sezee, en wid dat\nhe make a dash for Brer Rabbit, but Miss Meadows en de gals dey\nholler en squall, dey did, en Brer Tarrypin he got ter scramblin'\nroun' up dar on de shelf, en off he come, en blip he tuck Brer\nFox on de back er de head. Dis sorter stunted Brer Fox, en w'en\nhe gedder his 'membunce de mos' he seed wuz a pot er greens turnt\nover in de fireplace, en a broke cheer. Brer Rabbit wuz gone, en\nBrer Tarrypin wuz gone, en Miss Meadows en de gals wuz gone.\n\n\"Where did the Rabbit go, Uncle Remus?\" the little boy asked,\nafter a pause.\n\n\"Bless yo' soul, honey! Brer Rabbit he skint up de chimbly--dat's\nw'at turnt de pot er greens over. Brer Tarrypin, he crope under\nde bed, he did, en got behime de cloze-chist, en Miss Meadows en\nde gals, dey run out in de yard.\n\n\"Brer Fox, he sorter look roun' en feel or de back er his head,\nwhar Brer Tarrypin lit, but he don't see no sine er Brer Rabbit.\nBut de smoke en de ashes gwine up de chimbly got de best er Brer\nRabbit, en bimeby he sneeze--huckychow!\n\n\"'Aha!' sez Brer Fox, sezee; 'you er dar, is you?' sezee. 'Well,\nI'm gwineter smoke you out, ef it takes a mont'. You er mine dis\ntime,' sezee. Brer Rabbit ain't Sayin' nuthin'.\n\n\"'Ain't you comin' down?' sez Brer Fox, sezee. Brer Rabbit ain't\nsayin' nuthin'. Den Brer Fox, he went out atter some wood, he\ndid, en w'en he come back he hear Brer Rabbit laughin'.\n\n\"'W'at you laughin' at, Brer Rabbit?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Can't tell you, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'Better tell, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Tain't nuthin' but a box er money somebody done gone en lef' up\nyer in de chink er de chimbly,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'Don't b'leeve you,' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Look up en see,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, en w'en Brer Fox look\nup, Brer Rabbit spit his eyes full er terbacker joose, he did, en\nBrer Fox, he make a break fer de branch, en Brer Rabbit he come\ndown en tole de ladies good-by.\n\n\"'How you git 'im off, Brer Rabbit?' sez Miss Meadows, sez she.\n\n\"'Who? me?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee; 'w'y I des tuck en tole 'im\ndat ef he didn't go 'long home en stop playin' his pranks on\nspectubble fokes, dat I'd take 'im out and th'ash 'im,' sezee.\"\n\n\"And what became of the Terrapin?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Oh, well den!\" exclaimed the old man, \"chilluns can't speck ter\nknow all 'bout eve'ything 'fo' dey git some res'. Dem eyelids er\nyone wanter be propped wid straws dis minnit.\"\n\n\nXI. MR. WOLF MAKES A FAILURE\n\n\"I LAY yo' ma got comp'ny,\" said Uncle Remus, as the little boy\nentered the old man's door with a huge piece of mince-pie in his\nhand, 'en ef she ain't got comp'ny, den she done gone en drap de\ncubberd key som'ers whar you done run up wid it.\"\n\n\"Well, I saw the pie lying there, Uncle Remus, and I just thought\nI'd fetch it out to you.\"\n\n\"Tooby sho, honey,\" replied the old man, regarding the child with\nadmiration. \"Tooby sho, honey; dat changes marters. Chris'mus\ndoin's is outer date, en dey ain't got no bizness layin' roun'\nloose. Dish yer pie,\" Uncle Remus continued, holding it up and\nmeasuring it with an experienced eye, \"will gimme strenk fer ter\npersoo on atter Brer Fox en Brer Rabbit en de udder creeturs w'at\ndey roped in 'long wid um.\"\n\nHere the old man paused, and proceeded to demolish the pie--a\nfeat accomplished in a very short time. Then he wiped the crumbs\nfrom his beard and began:\n\n\"Brer Fox feel so bad, en he git so mad 'bout Brer Rabbit, dat he\ndunner w'at ter do, en he look mighty down-hearted. Bimeby, one\nday wiles he wuz gwine 'long de road, old Brer Wolf come up wid\n'im. W'en dey done howdyin' en axin' atter one nudder's fambly\nconnexshun, Brer Wolf, he 'low, he did, dat der wuz sump'n wrong\nwid Brer Fox, en Brer Fox, he 'low'd der wern't, en he went on en\nlaugh en make great terdo kaze Brer Wolf look like he spishun\nsump'n. But Brer Wolf, he got mighty long head, en he sorter\nbroach 'bout Brer Rabbit's kyar'ns on, kaze de way dat Brer\nRabbit 'ceive Brer Fox done got ter be de talk er de naberhood.\nDen Brer Fox en Brer Wolf dey sorter palavered on, dey did, twel\nbimeby Brer Wolf he up'n say dat he done got plan fix fer ter\ntrap Brer Rabbit. Den Brer Fox say how. Den Brer Wolf up'n tell\n'im dat de way fer ter git de drap on Brer Rabbit wuz ter git 'im\nin Brer Fox house. Brer Fox dun know Brer Rabbit uv ole, en he\nknow dat sorter game done wo' ter a frazzle, but Brer Wolf, he\ntalk mighty 'swadin'.\n\n\"'How you gwine git 'im dar?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Fool 'im dar,' sez Brer Wolf, sezee.\n\n\"'Who gwine do de foolin'?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'I'll do de foolin',' sez Brer Wolf, sezee, 'ef you'll do de\ngamin',' sezee.\n\n\"'How you gwine do it?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'You run 'long home, en git on de bed, en make like you dead, en\ndon't you say nothin' twel Brer Rabbit come en put his han's\nonter you,' sez Brer Wolf, sezee, 'en ef we don't git 'im fer\nsupper, Joe's dead en Sal's a widder,' sezee.\n\n\"Dis look like mighty nice game, en Brer Fox 'greed. So den he\namble off home, en Brer Wolf, he march off ter Brer Rabbit house.\nW'en he got dar, hit look like nobody at home, but Brer Wolf he\nwalk up en knock on de do'--blam! blam! Nobody come. Den he\nlam aloose en knock 'gin--blim! blim!\n\n\"'Who dar?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'Fr'en',' sez Brer Wolf.\n\n\"'Too menny fr'en's spiles de dinner,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee;\n'w'ich un's dis?' sezee.\n\n\"'I fetch bad news, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Wolf, sezee.\n\n\"'Bad news is soon tole,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"By dis time Brer Rabbit done come ter de do', wid his head tied\nup in a red hankcher.\n\n\"'Brer Fox died dis mornin',' sez Brer Wolf, sezee.\n\n\"'Whar yo' mo'nin' gown, Brer Wolf?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'Gwine atter it now,' sez Brer Wolf, sezee. 'I des call by fer\nter bring de news. I went down ter Brer Fox house little bit 'go,\nen dar I foun' 'im stiff,' sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Wolf lope off. Brer Rabbit sot down en scratch his\nhead, he did, en bimeby he say ter hisse'f dat he b'leeve he\nsorter drap 'roun' by Brer Fox house fer ter see how de lan' lay.\nNo sooner said'n done. Up he jump, en out he went. W'en Brer\nRabbit got close ter Brer Fox house, all look lonesome. Den he\nwent up nigher. Nobody stirrin'. Den he look in, en dar lay Brer\nFox stretch out on de bed des es big ez life. Den Brer Rabbit\nmake like he talkin' to hisse'f.\n\n\"'Nobody 'roun' fer ter look atter Brer Fox--not even Brer Tukkey\nBuzzard ain't come ter de funer'l,' sezee. 'I hope Brer Fox ain't\ndead, but I speck he is,' sezee. 'Even down ter Brer Wolf done\ngone en lef' 'im. Hit's de busy season wid me, but I'll set up\nwid 'im. He seem like he dead, yit he mayn't be,' sez Brer\nRabbit, sezee. 'W'en a man go ter see dead fokes, dead fokes\nallers raises up der behime leg en hollers, wahoo!' sezee.\n\n\"Brer Fox he stay still. Den Brer Rabbit he talk little louder:\n\n\"'Mighty funny. Brer Fox look like he dead, yit he don't do like\nhe dead. Dead fokes hists der behime leg en hollers wahoo! w'en a\nman come ter see um, sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"Sho' nuff, Brer Fox lif' up his foot en holler wahoo! en Brer\nRabbit he tear out de house like de dogs wuz atter 'im. Brer Wolf\nmighty smart, but nex' time you hear fum 'im, honey, he'll be in\ntrouble. You des hol' yo' breff'n wait.\"\n\n\nXII.  MR. FOX TACKLES OLD MAN TARRYPIN\n\n\"ONE day,\" said Uncle Remus, sharpening his knife on the palm\nof his hand--\"one day Brer Fox strike up wid Brer Tarrypin right\nin de middle er de big road. Brer Tarrypin done heerd 'im comin',\nen he 'low ter hisse'f dat he'd sorter keep one eye open; but\nBrer Fox wuz monstus perlite, en he open up de confab, he did,\nlike he ain't see Brer Tarrypin sence de las' freshit.\n\n\"'Heyo, Brer Tarrypin, whar you bin dis long-come-short?' sez\nBrer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Lounjun 'roun', Brer Fox, lounjun 'roun',' sez Brer Tarrypin.\n\n\"'You don't look sprucy like you did, Brer Tarrypin,' sez Brer\nFox, sezee.\n\n\"'Lounjun 'roun' en suffer'n',' sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee.\n\n\"Den de talk sorter run on like dis:\n\n\"'W'at ail you, Brer Tarrypin? Yo' eye look mighty red,' sez Brer\nFox, sezee.\n\n\"'Lor', Brer Fox, you dunner w'at trubble is. You ain't bin\nlounjun 'roun' en suffer'n',' sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee.\n\n\"'Bofe eyes red, en you look like you mighty weak, Brer\nTarrypin,' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Lor', Brer Fox, you dunner w'at trubble is,' sez Brer Tarrypin,\nsezee.\n\n\"'W'at ail you now, Brer Tarrypin?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Tuck a walk de udder day, en man come long en sot de fiel'\na-fier. Lor', Brer Fox, you dunner w'at trubble is,' sez Brer\nTarrypin, sezee.\n\n\"'How you git out de fier, Brer Tarrypin?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Sot en tuck it, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee. 'Sot en\ntuck it, en de smoke sif' in my eye, en de fier scorch my back,'\nsez Brer Tarrypin, sezee.\n\n\"'Likewise hit bu'n yo' tail off,' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Oh, no, dar's de tail, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, en\nwid dat he oncurl his tail fum under de shell, en no sooner did\nhe do dat dan Brer Fox grab it, en holler out:\n\n\"'Oh, yes, Brer Tarrypin! Oh, yes! En so you er de man w'at lam\nme on de head at Miss Meadows's is you? You er in wid Brer\nRabbit, is you? Well, I'm gwineter out you.'\n\n\"Brer Tarrypin beg en beg, but 'twan't no use. Brer Fox done been\nfool so much dat he look like he termin' fer ter have Brer\nTarrypin haslett. Den Brer Tarrypin beg Brer Fox not fer ter\ndrown 'im, but Brer Fox ain't makin' no prommus, en den he beg\nBrer Fox fer ter bu'n' 'im, kase he done useter fier, but Brer\nFox don't say nuthin'. Bimeby Brer Fox drag Brer Tarrypin off\nlittle ways b'low de spring-'ouse, en souze him under de water.\nDen Brer Tarrypin begin fer ter holler:\n\n\"'Tu'n loose dat stump root en ketch holt er me--tu'n loose dat\nstump root en ketch holt er me.'\n\n\"Brer Fox he holler back:\n\n\"'I ain't got holt er no stump root, en I is got holt er you.'\n\n\"Brer Tarrypin he keep on holler'n:\n\n\"'Ketch holt er me--I'm a drownin'--I'm a drownin'--tu'n loose de\nstump root en ketch holt er me.'\n\n\"Sho nuff, Brer Fox tu'n loose de tail, en Brer Tarrypin, he went\ndown ter de bottom--kerblunkity-blink!\"\n\nNo typographical combination or description could do justice to\nthe guttural sonorousness--the peculiar intonation--which Uncle\nRemus imparted to this combination. It was so peculiar, indeed,\nthat the little boy asked:\n\n\"How did he go to the bottom, Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"Kerblunkity-blink!\"\n\n\"Was he drowned, Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"Who? Ole man Tarrypin? Is you drowndid w'en yo' ma tucks you\nin de bed?\"\n\n\"Well, no,\" replied the little boy, dubiously.\n\n\"Ole man Tarrypin 'wuz at home I tell you, honey. Kerblinkity-\nblunk!\"\n\n\nXIII.  THE AWFUL FATE OF MR. WOLF\n\nUNCLE REMUS was half-soling one of his shoes, and his Miss\nSally's little boy had been handling his awls, his hammers, and\nhis knives to such an extent that the old man was compelled to\nassume a threatening attitude; but peace reigned again, and the\nlittle boy perched himself on a chair, watching Uncle Remus\ndriving in pegs.\n\n\"Folks w'at's allers pesterin' people, en bodderin' 'longer dat\nw'at ain't der'n, don't never come ter no good een'. Dar wuz Brer\nWolf; stidder mindin' un his own bizness, he hatter take en go in\npardnerships wid Brer Fox, en dey want skacely a minnit in de day\ndat he want atter Brer Rabbit, en he kep' on en kep' on twel fus'\nnews you knowed he got kotch up wid--en he got kotch up wid\nmonstus bad.\"\n\n\"Goodness, Uncle Remus! I thought the Wolf let the Rabbit alone,\nafter he tried to fool him about the Fox being dead.\"\n\n\"Better lemme tell dish yer my way. Bimeby hit'll be yo' bed\ntime, en Miss Sally'll be a hollerin' atter you, en you'll be a\nwhimplin' roun', en den Mars John'll fetch up de re'r wid dat ar\nstrop w'at I made fer im.\"\n\nThe child laughed, and playfully shook his fist in the simple,\nserious face of the venerable old darkey, but said no more. Uncle\nRemus waited awhile to be sure there was to be no other\ndemonstration, and then proceeded:\n\n\"Brer Rabbit ain't see no peace w'atsumever. He can't leave home\n'cep' Brer Wolf 'ud make a raid en tote off some er de fambly.\nBrer Rabbit b'ilt 'im a straw house, en hit wuz tored down; den\nhe made a house out'n pine-tops, en dat went de same way; den he\nmade 'im a bark house, en dat wuz raided on, en eve'y time he\nlos' a house he los' one er his chilluns. Las' Brer Rabbit got\nmad, he did, en cusst, en den he went off, he did, en got some\nkyarpinters, en dey b'ilt 'im a plank house wid rock foundashuns.\nAtter dat he could have some peace en quietness. He could go out\nen pass de time er day 'wid his neighbors, en come back en set by\nde fier, en smoke his pipe, en read de newspapers same like enny\nman w'at got a fambly. He made a hole, he did, in de cellar whar\nde little Rabbits could hide out w'en dar wuz much uv a racket in\nde neighborhood, en de latch er de front do' kotch on de inside.\nBrer Wolf, he see how de lan' lay, he did, en he lay low. De\nlittle Rabbits was mighty skittish, but hit got so dat col'\nchills ain't run up Brer Rabbit's back no mo' w'en he heerd Brer\nWolf go gallopin' by.\n\n\"Bimeby, one day w'en Brer Rabbit wuz fixin' fer ter call on Miss\nCoon, he heerd a monstrus fuss en clatter up de big road, en\n'mos' 'fo' he could fix his years fer ter lissen, Brer Wolf run\nin de do'. De little Rabbits dey went inter dere hole in de\ncellar, dey did, like blowin' out a cannle. Brer Wolf Wuz far'ly\nkivver'd wid mud, en mighty nigh outer win'.\n\n\"'Oh, do pray save me, Brer Rabbit!' sez Brer Wolf, sezee. 'Do\nplease, Brer Rabbit! de dogs is atter me, en dey 'll t'ar me up.\nDon't you year um comin'? Oh, do please save me, Brer Rabbit!\nHide me some'rs whar de dogs won't git me.'\n\n\"No quicker sed dan done.\n\n\"'Jump in dat big chist dar, Brer Wolf,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee;\n'jump in dar en make yo'se'f at home.'\n\n\"In jump Brer Wolf, down come the led, en inter de hasp went de\nhook, en dar Mr. Wolf wuz. Den Brer Rabbit went ter de lookin'-\nglass, he did, en wink at hisse'f, en den he draw'd de rockin'-\ncheer in front er de fier, he did, en tuck a big chaw terbacker.\"\n\n\"Tobacco, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy, incredulously.\n\n\"Rabbit terbacker, honey. You know dis yer life ev'lastin' w'at\nMiss Sally puts 'mong de cloze in de trunk; well, dat's rabbit\nterbacker. Den Brer Rabbit sot dar long time, he did, turnin' his\nmine over en wukken his thinkin' masheen. Bimeby he got up, en\nsorter stir 'roun'. Den Brer Wolf open up:\n\n\"'Is de dogs all gone, Brer Rabbit?'\n\n\"'Seem like I hear one un um smellin' roun' de chimbly-cornder\ndes now.'\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit git de kittle en fill it full er water, en put\nit on de fier.\n\n\"'W'at you doin' now, Brer Rabbit?'\n\n\"'I'm fixin fer ter make you a nice cup er tea, Brer Wolf.'\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit went ter de cubberd en git de gimlet, en\ncommence for ter bo' little holes in de chist-lid.\n\n\"'W'at you doin' now, Brer Rabbit?'\n\n\"'I'm bo'in' little holes so you kin get bref, Brer Wolf.'\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit went out en git some mo' wood, en fling it on de\nfier.\n\n\"'W'at you doin' now, Brer Rabbit?'\n\n\"'I'm a chunkin' up de fier so you won't git col', Brer Wolf.'\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit went down inter de cellar en  fotch out all his\nchilluns.\n\n\"'W'at you doin' now, Brer Rabbit?'\n\n\"'I'm a tellin' my chilluns w'at a nice man you is, Brer Wolf.'\n\n\"En de chilluns, dey had ter put der han's on der moufs fer ter\nkeep fum laffin'. Den Brer Rabbit he got de kittle en commenced\nfer to po' de hot water on de chist-lid.\n\n\"'W'at dat I hear, Brer Rabbit?'\n\n\"'You hear de win' a blowin', Brer Wolf.'\n\n\"Den de water begin fer ter sif' thoo.\n\n\"'W'at dat I feel, Brer Rabbit?'\n\n\"'You feels de fleas a bitin', Brer Wolf.'\n\n\"'Dey er bitin' mighty hard, Brer Rabbit.'\n\n\"'Tu'n over on de udder side, Brer Wolf.'\n\n\"'W'at dat I feel now, Brer Rabbit?'\n\n\"'Still you feels de fleas, Brer Wolf.'\n\n\"'Dey er eatin' me up, Brer Rabbit,' en dem wuz de las words er\nBrer Wolf, kase de scaldin' water done de bizness.\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit call in his neighbors, he did, en dey hilt a\nreg'lar juberlee; en ef you go ter Brer Rabbit's house right now,\nI dunno but w'at you'll fine Brer Wolfs hide hangin' in de back-\npo'ch, en all bekaze he wuz so bizzy wid udder fo'kses doin's.\"\n\n\nXIV. MR. FOX AND THE DECEITFUL FROGS\n\nWHEN the little boy ran in to see Uncle Remus the night after he\nhad told him of the awful fate of Brer Wolf, the only response to\nhis greeting was:\n\n\"I-doom-er-ker-kum-mer-ker!\"\n\nNo explanation could convey an adequate idea of the intonation\nand pronunciation which Uncle Remus brought to bear upon this\nwonderful word. Those who can recall to mind the peculiar\ngurgling, jerking, liquid sound made by pouring water from a\nlarge jug, or the sound produced by throwing several stones in\nrapid succession into a pond of deep water, may be able to form a\nvery faint idea of the sound, but it can not be reproduced in\nprint. The little boy was astonished.\n\n\"What did you say, Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"I-doom-er-ker-kum-mer-ker! I-doom-er-ker-kum mer-ker!\"\n\n\"What is that?\"\n\n\"Dat's Tarrypin talk, dat is. Bless yo' soul, honey,\" continued\nthe old man, brightening up, \"w'en you git ole ez me--w'en you\nsee w'at I sees, en year w'at I years--de creeturs dat you can't\ntalk wid'll be mighty skase--dey will dat. W'y, der's er old gray\nrat w'at uses 'bout yer, en time atter time he comes out w'en you\nall done gone ter bed en sets up dar in de cornder en dozes, en\nme en him talks by de 'our; en w'at dat old rat dunno ain't down\nin de spellin' book. Des now, w'en you run in and broke me up, I\nwuz fetchin' into my mine w'at Brer Tarrypin say ter Brer Fox\nw'en he turn 'im loose in de branch.\"\n\n\"What did he say, Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"Dat w'at he said--I-doom-er-ker-kum-mer-ker! Brer Tarrypin wuz\nat de bottom er de pon', en he talk back, he did, in bubbles--I-\ndoom-er-ker-kum-mer-ker! Brer Fox, he ain't sayin' nuthin', but\nBrer Bull-Frog, settin' on de bank, he hear Brer Tarrypin, he\ndid, en he holler back:\n\n\"Jug-er-rum-kum-dum! Jug-er-rum-kum-dum!'\n\n\"Den Brer Frog holler out: 'Knee-deep! Knee-deep!'\n\n\"Den ole Brer Bull-Frog, he holler back: 'Don'-you-ber-lieve-'im!\nDon't-you-ber-lieve-'im!'\n\n\"Den de bubbles come up fum Brer Tarrypin: 'I-doom-er-ker-kum-\nmer-ker!'\n\n\"Den Brer Frog sing out: 'Wade in! Wade in!'\n\n\"Den ole Brer Bull-Frog talk thoo his ho'seness: 'Dar-you'll-\nfine-yo'-brudder!  Dar-you'll-fine-yo'-brudder!'\n\n\"Sho nuff, Brer Fox look over de bank, he did, en dar wuz n'er\nFox lookin' at 'im outer de water. Den he retch out fer ter shake\nhan's, en in he went, heels over head, en Brer Tarrypin bubble\nout:\n\n\"'I-doom-er-ker-kum-mer-ker!\"'\n\n\"Was the Fox drowned, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"He weren't zackly drowndid, honey,\" replied the old man, With an\nair of cautious reserve. \"He did manage fer ter scramble out, but\na little mo' en de Mud Turkle would er got 'im, en den he'd er\nbin made hash un worl' widout een'.\"\n\n\nXV. MR. FOX GOES A-HUNTING, BUT MR. RABBIT BAGS THE GAME\n\n\"ATTER Brer Fox hear 'bout how Brer Rabbit done Brer Wolf,\"\nsaid Uncle Remus, scratching his head with the point of his awl,\n'he 'low, he did, dat he better not be so brash, en he sorter let\nBrer Rabbit 'lone. Dey wuz all time seein' one nudder, en\n'bunnunce er times Brer Fox could er nab Brer Rabbit, but eve'y\ntime he got de chance, his mine 'ud sorter rezume 'bout Brer\nWolf, en he let Brer Rabbit 'lone. Bimeby dey 'gun ter git kinder\nfamilious wid wunner nudder like dey useter, en it got so Brer\nFox'd call on Brer Rabbit, en dey'd set up en smoke der pipes,\ndey would, like no ha'sh feelin's 'd ever rested 'twixt um.\n\n\"Las', one day Brer Fox come 'long all rig out, en ax Brer Rabbit\nfer ter go huntin' wid 'im, but Brer Rabbit, he sorter feel lazy,\nen he tell Brer Fox dat he got some udder fish fer ter fry. Brer\nFox feel mighty sorry, he did, but he say he bleeve he try his\nhan' enny how, en off he put. He wuz gone all day, en he had a\nmonstus streak er luck, Brer Fox did, en he bagged a sight er\ngame. Bimeby, to'rds de shank er de evenin', Brer Rabbit sorter\nstretch hisse'f, he did, en 'low hit's mos' time fer Brer Fox fer\nter git 'long home. Den Brer Rabbit, he went'n mounted a stump\nfer ter see ef he could year Brer Fox comin'. He ain't bin dar\nlong, twel sho' enuff, yer come Brer Fox thoo de woods, singing\nlike a nigger at a frolic. Brer Rabbit, he lipt down off'n de\nstump, he did, en lay down in de road en make like he dead. Brer\nFox he come 'long, he did, en see Brer Rabbit layin' dar. He tu'n\n'im over, he did, en 'zamine 'im, en say, sezee:\n\n\"'Dish yer rabbit dead. He look like he bin dead long time. He\ndead, but he mighty fat. He de fattes' rabbit w'at I ever see,\nbut he bin dead too long. I feard ter take 'im home,' sezee.\n\n\"Brer Rabbit ain't sayin' nuthin'. Brer Fox, he sorter lick his\nchops, but he went on en lef' Brer Rabbit layin' in de road.\nDreckly he wuz outer sight, Brer Rabbit, he jump up, he did, en\nrun roun' thoo de Woods en git befo Brer Fox agin. Brer Fox, he\ncome up, en dar lay Brer Rabbit, periently col' en stiff. Brer\nFox, he look at Brer Rabbit, en he sorter study. Atter while he\nonslung his game-bag, en say ter hisse'f, sezee:\n\n\"'Deze yer rabbits gwine ter was'e. I'll des 'bout leave my game\nyer, en I'll go back'n git dat udder rabbit, en I'll make fokes\nb'leeve dat I'm ole man Hunter fum Huntsville,' sezee.\n\n\"En wid dat he drapt his game en loped back up de road atter de\nudder rabbit, en w'en he got outer sight, ole Brer Rabbit, he\nsnatch up Brer Fox game en put out fer home. Nex' time he see\nBrer Fox he holler out:\n\n\"'What you kill de udder day, Brer Fox?' sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Fox, he sorter koam his flank wid his tongue, en holler\nback:\n\n\"'I kotch a han'ful er hard sense, Brer Rabbit,' sezee.\n\n\"Den ole Brer Rabbit, he laff, he did, en up en 'spon', sezee:\n'Ef I'd a know'd you wuz atter dat, Brer Fox, I'd a loant you\nsome er mine,' sezee.\"\n\n\nXVI. OLD MR. RABBIT, HE'S A GOOD FISHERMAN\n\n\"BRER RABBIT en Brer Fox wuz like some chilluns w'at I knows\nun,\" said Uncle Remus, regarding the little boy, who had come to\nhear another story, with an affectation of great solemnity. \"Bofe\nun um wuz allers atter wunner nudder, a prankin' en a pesterin'\n'roun', but Brer Rabbit did had some peace, kaze Brer Fox done\ngot skittish 'bout puttin' de clamps on Brer Rabbit.\n\n\"One day, w'en Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox, en Brer Coon, en Brer\nB'ar, en a whole lot un um wuz clearin' up a new groun' fer ter\nplant a roas'n'-year patch, de sun gun ter git sorter hot, en\nBrer Rabbit he got tired; but he didn't let on, kaze he fear'd de\nbalance un um'd call 'im lazy, en he keep on totin' off trash en\npilin' up bresh, twel bimeby he holler out dat he gotter brier in\nhis han', en den he take'n slip off, en hunt fer cool place fer\nter res'. Atter w'ile he come crosst a well wid a bucket hangin'\nin it.\n\n\"'Dat look cool,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en cool I speck she\nis. I'll des 'bout git in dar en take a nap,' en wid dat in he\njump, he did, en he ain't no sooner fix hisse'f dan de bucket\n'gun ter go down.\"\n\n\"Wasn't the Rabbit scared, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Honey, dey ain't been no wusser skeer'd beas' sence de worl'\nbegin dan dish yer same Brer Rabbit. He fa'rly had a agur. He\nknow whar he cum fum, but he dunner whar he gwine. Dreckly he\nfeel de bucket hit de water, en dar she sot, but Brer Rabbit he\nkeep mighty still, kaze he dunner w'at minnit gwineter be de\nnex'. He des lay dar en shuck en shiver.\n\n\"Brer Fox allers got one eye on Brer Rabbit, en w'en he slip off\nfum de new groun', Brer Fox he sneak atter 'im. He know Brer\nRabbit wuz atter some projick er nudder, en he tuck'n crope off,\nhe did, en watch 'im. Brer Fox see Brer Rabbit come to de well en\nstop, en den he see 'im jump in de bucket, en den, lo en behol's,\nhe see 'im go down outer sight. Brer Fox wuz de mos' 'stonish Fox\ndat you ever laid eyes on. He sot off dar in de bushes en study\nen study, but he don't make no head ner tails ter dis kinder\nbizness. Den he say ter hisse'f, sezee:\n\n\"'Well, ef dis don't bang my times,' sezee, 'den Joe's dead en\nSal's a widder. Right down dar in dat well Brer Rabbit keep his\nmoney hid, en ef 'tain't dat den he done gone en 'skiver'd a\ngole-mine, en ef 'tain't dat, den I'm a gwineter see w'at's in\ndar,' sezee.\n\n\"Brer Fox crope up little nigher, he did, en lissen, but he don't\nyear no fuss, en he keep on gittin' nigher, en yit he don't year\nnuthin'. Bimeby he git up close en peep down, but he don't see\nnuthin' en he don't year nuthin'. All dis time Brer Rabbit mighty\nnigh skeer'd outen his skin, en he fear'd fer ter move kaze de\nbucket might keel over en spill him out in de water. W'ile he\nsayin' his pra'rs over like a train er kyars runnin', ole Brer\nFox holler out:\n\n\"'Heyo, Brer Rabbit! Who you wizzitin' down dar?' sezee.\n\n\"'Who? Me? Oh, I'm des a fishin', Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit,\nsezee. 'I des say ter myse'f dat I'd sorter sprize you all wid a\nmess er fishes fer dinner, en so here I is, en dar's de fishes.\nI'm a fishin' fer suckers, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'Is dey many un um down dar, Brer Rabbit?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Lots un um, Brer Fox; scoze en scoze un um. De water is\nnatchully 'live wid um. Come down en he'p me haul um in, Brer\nFox,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'How I gwineter git down, Brer Rabbit?'\n\n\"'Jump inter de bucket, Brer Fox. Hit'll fetch you down all safe\nen soun'.'\n\n\"Brer Rabbit talk so happy en talk so sweet dat Brer Fox he jump\nin de bucket, he did, en, ez he went down, co'se his weight pull\nBrer Rabbit up. W'en dey pass one nudder on de half-way growl',\nBrer Rabbit he sing out:\n\n\"'Good-by, Brer Fox, take keer yo' cloze,\nFer dis is de way de worl' goes;\nSome goes up en some goes down,\nYou'll git ter de bottom all safe en soun'.' *1\n\n\"W'en Brer Rabbit got out, he gallop off en tole de fokes w'at de\nwell blong ter dat Brer Fox wuz down in dar muddyin' up de\ndrinkin' water, en den he gallop back ter de well, en holler down\nter Brer Fox:\n\n\"'Ye come a man wid a great big gun--W'en he haul you up, you\njump en run.\"'\n\n\"What then, Uncle  Remus?\" asked the little boy, as the old man\npaused.\n\n\"In des 'bout half 'n hour, honey, bofe un um wuz back in de new\ngroun' wukkin' des like dey never heer'd er no well, ceppin' dat\neve'y now'n den Brer Rabbit'd bust out in er laff, en old Brer\nFox, he'd git a spell er de dry grins.\"\n\n*1 As a Northern friend suggests that this story may be somewhat\n   obscure, it may be as well to state that the well is supposed\n   to be supplied with a rope over a wheel, or pulley, with a\n   bucket at each end.\n\n\nXVII. MR. RABBIT NIBBLES UP THE BUTTER\n\n'\"DE animils en de creeturs,\" said Uncle Remus, shaking his\ncoffee around in the bottom of his tin-cup, in order to gather up\nall the sugar, 'dey kep' on gittin' mo' en mo' familious wid\nwunner nudder, twel bimeby, 'twan't long 'fo' Brer Rabbit, en\nBrer Fox, en Brer Possum got ter sorter bunchin' der perwishuns\ntergedder in de same shanty. Atter w'ile de roof sorter 'gun ter\nleak, en one day Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox, en Brer Possum,\n'semble fer ter see ef dey can't kinder patch her up. Dey had a\nbig day's work in front un um, en dey fotch der dinner wid um.\nDey lump de vittles up in one pile, en de butter w'at Brer Fox\nbrung, dey goes en puts in de spring-'ouse fer ter keep cool, en\nden dey went ter wuk, en 'twan't long 'fo' Brer Rabbit's stummuck\n'gun ter sorter growl en pester 'im. Dat butter er Brer Fox sot\nheavy on his mine, en his mouf water eve'y time he 'member 'bout\nit. Present'y he say ter hisse'f dat he bleedzd ter have a nip at\ndat butter, en den he lay his plans, he did. Fus' news you know,\nw'ile dey wuz all wukkin' long, Brer Rabbit raise his head quick\nen fling his years forerd en holler out:\n\n\"'Here I is. W'at you want wid me?' en off he put like sump'n wuz\natter 'im.\n\n\"He sallied 'roun', ole Brer Rabbit did, en atter he make sho dat\nnobody ain't foller'n un 'im, inter de spring-'ouse he bounces,\nen dar he stays twel he git a bait er butter. Den he santer on\nback en go to wuk.\n\n\"'Whar you bin?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'I hear my chilluns callin' me,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en I\nhatter go see w'at dey want. My ole 'oman done gone en tuck\nmighty sick,' sezee.\n\n\"Dey wuk on twel bimeby de butter tas'e so good dat ole Brer\nRabbit want some mo'. Den he raise up his head, he did, en holler\nout:\n\n\"'Heyo! Hol' on! I'm a comin'!' en off he put.\n\n\"Dis time he stay right smart w'ile, en w'en he git back Brer Fox\nax him whar he bin.\n\n\"'I been ter see my ole 'oman, en she's a sinkin',' sezee.\n\n\"Dreckly Brer Rabbit hear um callin' 'im ag'in en off he goes, en\ndis time, bless yo' soul, he gits de butter out so clean dat he\nkin see hisse'f in de bottom er de bucket. He scrape it clean en\nlick it dry, en den he go back ter wuk lookin' mo' samer dan a\nnigger w'at de patter-rollers bin had holt un.\n\n\"'How's yo' ole 'oman dis time?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'I'm oblije ter you, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'but I'm\nfear'd she's done gone by now,' en dat sorter make Brer Fox en\nBrer Possum feel in mo'nin' wid Brer Rabbit.\n\n\"Bimeby, w'en dinner-time come, dey all got out der vittles, but\nBrer Rabbit keep on lookin' lonesome, en Brer Fox en Brer Possum\ndey sorter rustle roun' fer ter see ef dey can't make Brer Rabbit\nfeel sorter splimmy.\"\n\n\"What is that, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Sorter splimmy-splammy, honey--sorter like he in a crowd--sorter\nlike his ole 'oman ain't dead ez she mout be. You know how fokes\nduz w'en dey gits whar people's a moanin'.\"\n\nThe little boy didn't know, fortunately for him, and Uncle Remus\nwent on:\n\n\"Brer Fox en Brer Possum rustle roun', dey did, gittin out de\nvittles, en bimeby Brer Fox, he say, sezee:\n\n\"'Brer Possum, you run down ter de spring en fetch de butter, en\nI'll sail 'roun' yer en set de table,' sezee.\n\n\"Brer Possum, he lope off atter de butter, en dreckly here he\ncome lopin' back wid his years a trimblin' en his tongue a\nhangin' out. Brer Fox, he holler out:\n\n\"'W'at de matter now, Brer Possum?' sezee.\n\n\"'You all better run yer, fokes,' sez Brer Possum, sezee. 'De\nlas' drap er dat butter done gone!'\n\n\"'Whar she gone?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Look like she dry up,' sez Brer Possum, sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer Rabbit, he look sorter sollum, he did, en he up'n say,\nsezee.\n\n\"'I speck dat butter melt in somebody mouf,' sezee. Den dey went\ndown ter de spring wid Brer Possum, en sho nuff de butter done\ngone. W'iles dey wuz sputin' over de wunderment, Brer Rabbit say\nhe see tracks all 'roun' dar, en he p'int out dat ef dey'll all\ngo ter sleep, he kin ketch de chap w'at stole de butter. Den dey\nall lie down en Brer Fox en Brer Possum dey soon drapt off ter\nsleep, but Brer Rabbit he stay 'wake, en w'en de time come he\nraise up easy en smear Brer Possum mouf wid de butter on his\npaws, en den he run off en nibble up de bes' er de dinner w'at\ndey lef' layin' out, en den he come back en wake up Brer Fox, en\nshow 'im de butter on Brer Possum mouf. Den dey wake up Brer\nPossum, en tell 'im 'bout it, but c'ose Brer Possum 'ny it ter de\nlas'. Brer Fox, dough, he's a kinder lawyer, en he argafy dis\nway--dat Brer Possum wuz de fus one at de butter, en de fus one\nfer ter miss it, en mo'n dat, dar hang de signs on his mouf. Brer\nPossum see dat dey got 'im jammed up in a cornder, en den he up\nen say dat de way fer ter ketch de man w'at stole de butter is\nter b'il' a big bresh-heap en set her afier, en all han's try ter\njump over, en de one w'at fall in, den he de chap w'at stole de\nbutter. Brer Rabbit en Brer Fox dey is bofe 'gree, dey did, en\ndey whirl in en b'il' de breshheap, en dey b'il' her high en dey\nb'il' her wide, en den dey totch her off. W'en she got ter\nblazin' up good, Brer Rabbit, he tuck de fus turn. He sorter step\nback, en look 'roun' en giggle, en over he went mo' samer dan a\nbird flyin'. Den come Brer Fox. He got back little fudder, en\nspit on his han's, en lit out en made de jump, en he come so nigh\ngittin' in dat de een' er his tail kotch afier. Ain't you never\nsee no fox, honey?\" inquired Uncle Remus, in a tone that implied\nboth conciliation and information.\n\nThe little boy thought probably he had, but he wouldn't commit\nhimself.\n\n\"Well, den,\" continued the old man, \"nex' time you see one un um,\nyou look right close en see ef de een' er his tail ain't w'ite.\nHit's des like I tell you. Dey b'ars de skyar er dat bresh-heap\ndown ter dis day. Dey er marked--dat's w'at dey is--dey er\nmarked.\"\n\n\"And what about Brother Possum?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Ole Brer Possum, he tuck a runnin' start, he did, en he come\nlumberin' 'long, en he lit--kerblam!--right in de middle er de\nfier, en dat wuz de las' er ole Brer Possum.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Remus, Brother Possum didn't steal the butter after\nall,\" said the little boy, who was not at all satisfied with such\nsummary injustice.\n\n\"Dat w'at make I say w'at I duz, honey. In dis worl', lots er\nfokes is gotter suffer fer udder fokes sins. Look like hit's\nmighty wrong; but hit's des dat away. Tribbalashun seem like\nshe's a waitin' roun' de cornder fer ter ketch one en all un us,\nhoney.\"\n\n\nXVIII. MR. RABBIT FINDS HIS MATCH AT LAST\n\n\"HIT look like ter me dat I let on de udder night dat in dem days\nw'en de creeturs wuz santer'n 'roun' same like fokes, none un um\nwuz brash nuff fer ter ketch up wid Brer Rabbit,\" remarked Uncle\nRemus, reflectively.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the little boy, \"that's what you said.\"\n\n\"Well, den,\" continued the old man with unction, \"dar's whar my\n'membunce gin out, kaze Brer Rabbit did git kotched up wid, en\nhit cool 'im off like po'in' spring water on one er deze yer\nbiggity fices.\"\n\n\"How was that, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"One day w'en Brer Rabbit wuz gwine lippity-clippitin' down de\nroad, he meet up wid ole Brer Tarrypin, en atter dey pass de time\ner day wid wunner nudder, Brer Rabbit, he 'low dat he wuz much\n'blije ter Brer Tarrypin fer de han' he tuck in de rumpus dat day\ndown at Miss Meadows's.\"\n\n\"When he dropped off of the water-shelf on the Fox's head,\"\nsuggested the little boy.\n\n\"Dat's de same time, honey. Den Brer Tarrypin 'low dat Brer Fox\nrun mighty fas' dat day, but dat ef he'd er bin atter 'im stidder\nBrer Rabbit, he'd er kotch 'im. Brer Rabbit say he could er kotch\n'im hisse'f but he didn't keer 'bout leavin' de ladies. Dey keep\non talkin', dey did, twel bimeby dey gotter 'sputin' 'bout w'ich\nwuz de swif'es'. Brer Rabbit, he say he kin outrun Brer Tarrypin,\nen Brer Tarrypin, he des vow dat he kin outrun Brer Rabbit. Up en\ndown dey had it, twel fus news you know Brer Tarrypin say he got\na fifty-dollar bill in de chink er de chimbly at home, en dat\nbill done tole 'im dat he could beat Brer Rabbit in a fa'r race.\nDen Brer Rabbit say he got a fifty-dollar bill w'at say dat he\nkin leave Brer Tarrypin so fur behime, dat he could sow barley ez\nhe went long en hit 'ud be ripe nuff fer ter cut by de time Brer\nTarrypin pass dat way.\n\n\"Enny how dey make de bet en put up de money, en old Brer Tukkey\nBuzzard, he wuz summonzd fer ter be de jedge, en de stakeholder;\nen 'twan't long 'fo' all de 'rangements wuz made. De race wuz a\nfive-mile heat, en de groun' wuz medjud off, en at de een' er\neve'y mile a pos' wuz stuck up. Brer Rabbit wuz ter run down de\nbig road, en Brer Tarrypin, he say he'd gallup thoo de woods.\nFokes tole 'im he could git long faster in de road, but ole Brer\nTarrypin, he know w'at he doin'. Miss Meadows en de gals en mos'\nall de nabers got win' er de fun, en wen de day wuz sot dey\n'termin' fer ter be on han'. Brer Rabbit he train hisse'f eve'y\nday, en he skip over de groun' des ez gayly ez a June cricket.\nOle Brer Tarrypin, he lay low in de swamp. He had a wife en th'ee\nchilluns, old Brer Tarrypin did, en dey wuz all de ve'y spit en\nimage er de ole man. Ennybody w'at know one fum de udder gotter\ntake a spy-glass, en den dey er li'ble fer ter git fooled.\n\n\"Dat's de way marters stan' twel de day er de race, en on dat\nday, ole Brer Tarrypin, en his ole 'oman, en his th'ee chilluns,\ndey got up 'fo' sun-up, en went ter de place. De ole 'oman, she\ntuck 'er stan' nigh de fus' mile-pos', she did, en de chilluns\nnigh de udders, up ter de las', en dar old Brer Tarrypin, he tuck\nhis stan'. Bimeby, here come de fokes: Jedge Buzzard, he come, en\nMiss Meadows en de gals, dey come, en den yer come Brer Rabbit\nwid ribbons tied 'roun' his neck en streamin' fum his years. De\nfokes all went ter de udder een' er de track fer ter see how dey\ncome out. W'en de time come Jedge Buzzard strut 'roun' en pull\nout his watch, en holler out:\n\n\"'Gents, is you ready?'\n\n\"Brer Rabbit, he say 'yes,' en old Miss Tarrypin holler 'go' fum\nde aidge er de woods. Brer Rabbit, he lit out on de race, en old\nMiss Tarrypin, she put out for home. Jedge Buzzard, he riz en\nskimmed long fer ter see dat de race wuz runned fa'r. W'en Brer\nRabbit got ter de fus' mile-pos' wunner de Tarrypin chilluns\ncrawl out de woods, he did, en make fer de place. Brer Rabbit, he\nholler out:\n\n\"'Whar is you, Brer Tarrypin?'\n\n\"'Yer I come a bulgin',' sez de Tarrypin, sezee.\n\n\"Brer Rabbit so glad he's ahead dat he put out harder dan ever,\nen de Tarrypin, he make fer home. W'en he come ter de nex' pos',\nnudder Tarrypin crawl out er de woods.\n\n\"'Whar is you, Brer Tarrypin?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'Yer I come a bilin',' sez de Tarrypin, sezee.\n\n\"Brer Rabbit, he lit out, he did, en come ter nex' pos', en dar\nwuz de Tarrypin. Den he come ter nex', en dar wuz de Tarrypin.\nDen he had one mo' mile fer ter run, en he feel like he gittin'\nbellust. Bimeby, ole Brer Tarrypin look way off down de road en\nhe see Jedge Buzzard sailin' long en he know hit's time fer 'im\nfer ter be up. So he scramble outen de woods, en roll 'cross de\nditch, en shuffle thoo de crowd er folks en git ter de mile-pos'\nen crawl behime it. Bimeby, fus' news you know, yer come Brer\nRabbit. He look 'roun' en he don't see Brer Tarrypin, en den he\nsquall out:\n\n\"'Gimme de money,  Brer Buzzard, Gimme de money!'\n\n\"Den  Miss Meadows en de gals, dey holler and laff fit ter kill\ndeyse'f, en ole Brer Tarrypin, he raise up fum behime de\npos' en sez, sezee:\n\n\"'Ef you'll gimme time fer ter ketch my breff, gents en ladies,\none en all, I speck I'll finger dat money myse'f,' sezee, en sho\nnuff, Brer Tarrypin tie de pu's 'roun' his neck en skaddle*1 off\nhome.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Remus,\" said the little boy, dolefully, \"that was\ncheating.\"\n\n\"Co'se, honey. De creeturs 'gun ter cheat, en den fokes tuck it\nup, en hit keep on spreadin'. Hit mighty ketchin', en you mine\nyo' eye, honey, dat somebody don't cheat you 'fo' yo' ha'r git\ngray ez de ole nigger's.\"\n\n*1 It may he interesting to note here that in all probability the\n   word \"skedaddle,\" about which there was some controversy during\n   the war, came from the Virginia negro's use of \"skaddle,\" which\n   is a corruption of \"scatter.\" The matter, however, is hardly\n   worth referring to.\n\n\nXIX. THE FATE OF MR. JACK SPARROW\n\n\"You'll tromple on dat bark twel hit won't be fitten fer ter\nfling 'way, let 'lone make hoss-collars out'n,\" said Uncle Remus,\nas the little boy came running into his cabin out of the rain.\nAll over the floor long strips of \"wahoo\" bark were spread, and\nthese the old man was weaving into horse-collars.\n\n\"I'll sit down, Uncle Remus,\" said the little boy.\n\n\"Well, den, you better, honey,\" responded the old man, \"kaze I\n'spizes fer ter have my wahoo trompled on. Ef 'twuz shucks, now,\nhit mout be diffunt, but I'm a gittin' too ole fer ter be\nprojickin' 'longer shuck collars.\"\n\nFor a few minutes the old man went on with his work, but with a\nsolemn air altogether unusual. Once or twice he sighed deeply,\nand the sighs ended in a prolonged groan, that seemed to the\nlittle boy to be the result of the most unspeakable mental agony.\nHe knew by experience that he had done something which failed to\nmeet the approval of Uncle Remus, and he tried to remember what\nit was, so as to frame an excuse; but his memory failed him. He\ncould think of nothing he had done calculated to stir Uncle\nRemus's grief. He was not exactly seized with remorse, but he was\nvery uneasy. Presently Uncle Remus looked at him in a sad and\nhopeless way and asked:\n\n\"W'at dat long rigmarole you bin tellin' Miss Sally 'bout yo'\nlittle brer dis mawnin?\"\n\n\"Which, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy, blushing guiltily.\n\n\"Dat des w'at I'm a axin' un you now. I hear Miss Sally say she's\na gwineter stripe his jacket, en den I knowed you bin tellin' on\n'im.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Remus, he was pulling up your onions, and then he\nwent and flung a rock at me, said the child, plaintively.\n\n\"Lemme tell you dis,\" said the old man, laying down the section\nof horse-collar he had been plaiting, and looking hard at the\nlittle boy--\"lemme tell you dis der ain't no way fer ter make\ntattlers en tailb'arers turn out good. No, dey ain't. I bin\nmixin' up wid fokes now gwine on eighty year, en I ain't seed no\ntattler come ter no good een'. Dat I ain't. En ef ole man\nM'thoozlum wuz livin' clean twel yit, he'd up'n tell you de same.\nSho ez you er settin' dar. You 'member w'at 'come er de bird w'at\nwent tattlin' 'roun' 'bout Brer Rabbit?\"\n\nThe little boy didn't remember, but he was very anxious to know,\nand he also wanted to know what kind of a bird it was that so\ndisgraced itself.\n\n\"Hit wuz wunner dese yer uppity little Jack Sparrers, I speck,\"\nsaid the old man; \"dey wuz allers  bodder'n' longer  udder\nfokes's bizness, en dey keeps at it down ter dis day--peckin'\nyer, en pickin' dar, en scratchin' out yander. One day, atter he\nbin fool by ole Brer Tarrypin, Brer Rabbit wuz settin' down in de\nwoods studyin' how he wuz gwineter git even.  He  feel mighty\nlonesome, en he feel mighty mad, Brer Rabbit did. Tain't put down\nin de tale, but I speck he cusst en r'ar'd 'roun' considerbul.\nLeas'ways, he wuz settin' out dar by hisse'f, en dar he sot, en\nstudy en study, twel bimeby he jump up en holler out:\n\n\"'Well, dog-gone my cats ef I can't gallop 'roun' ole Brer Fox,\nen I'm gwineter do it. I'll show Miss Meadows en de gals dat I'm\nde boss er Brer Fox,' sezee.\n\n\"Jack Sparrer up in de tree, he hear Brer Rabbit, he did, en he\nsing out:\n\n\"'I'm gwine tell Brer Fox! I'm gwine tell Brer Fox!\nChick-a-biddy-win'-a-blowin'-acuns-fallin'! I'm gwine tell Brer\nFox!\"'\n\nUncle Remus accompanied the speech of the bird with a peculiar\nwhistling sound in his throat, that was a marvelous imitation of\na sparrow's chirp, and the little boy clapped his hands with\ndelight, and insisted on a repetition.\n\n\"Dis kinder tarrify Brer Rabbit, en he skasely know w'at he gwine\ndo; but bimeby he study ter hisse'f dat de man w'at see Brer Fox\nfus wuz boun' ter have de inturn, en den he go hoppin' off to'rds\nhome. He didn't got fur w'en who should he meet but Brer Fox, en\nden Brer Rabbit, he open up:\n\n\"'W'at dis twix' you en me, Brer Fox?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. 'I\nhear tell you gwine ter sen' me ter 'struckshun, en nab my\nfambly, en 'stroy my shanty,' sezee.\n\n\"'Den Brer Fox he git mighty mad. 'Who bin tellin' you all dis?'\nsezee.\n\n\"Brer Rabbit make like he didn't want ter tell, but Brer Fox he\n'sist en 'sist, twel at las' Brer Rabbit he up en tell Brer Fox\ndat he hear Jack Sparrer say all dis.\n\n\"'Co'se,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'w'en Brer Jack Sparrer tell me\ndat I flew up, I did, en I use some langwidge w'ich I'm mighty\nglad dey weren't no ladies 'round' nowhars so dey could hear me\ngo on, sezee.\n\n\"Brer Fox he sorter gap, he did, en say he speck he better be\nsa'nter'n on. But, bless yo' soul, honey, Brer Fox ain't sa'nter\nfur, 'fo' Jack Sparrer flipp down on a 'simmon-bush by de side er\nde road, en holler out:\n\n\"'Brer Fox! Oh, Brer Fox!--Brer Fox!'\n\n\"Brer Fox he des sorter canter long, he did, en make like he\ndon't hear 'im. Den Jack Sparrer up'n sing out agin:\n\n\"'Brer Fox! Oh, Brer Fox! Hol' on, Brer Fox! I got some news fer\nyou. Wait Brer Fox! Hit'll 'stonish you.'\n\n\"Brer Fox he make like he don't see Jack Sparrer, ner needer do\nhe hear 'im, but bimeby he lay down by de road, en sorter stretch\nhisse'f like he fixin' fer ter nap. De tattlin' Jack Sparrer he\nflew'd 'long, en keep on callin' Brer Fox, but Brer Fox, he ain't\nsayin' nuthin'. Den little Jack Sparrer, he hop down on de groun'\nen flutter 'roun' 'mongst de trash. Dis sorter 'track Brer Fox\n'tenshun, en he look at de tattlin' bird, en de bird he keep on\ncallin':\n\n\"'I got sump'n fer ter tell you, Brer Fox.'\n\n\"'Git on my tail, little Jack Sparrer,' sez Brer Fox, sezee,\n'kaze I'm de'f in one year, en I can't hear out'n de udder. Git\non my tail,' sezee.\n\n\"Den de little bird he up'n hop on Brer Fox's tail.\n\n\"'Git on my back, little Jack Sparrer, kaze I'm de'f in one year\nen I can't hear out'n de udder.'\n\n\"Den de little bird hop on his back.\n\n\"'Hop on my head, little Jack Sparrer, kaze I'm de'f in bofe\nyears.'\n\n\"Up hop de little bird.\n\n\"'Hop on my toof, little Jack Sparrer, kaze I'm de'f in one year\nen I can't hear out'n de udder.'\n\n\"De tattlin' little bird hop on Brer Fox's toof, en den--\"\n\nHere Uncle Remus paused, opened wide his mouth and closed it\nagain in a way that told the whole story. *1\n\n\"Did the Fox eat the bird all--all up?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Jedge B'ar come long nex' day,\" replied Uncle Remus, \"en he fine\nsome fedders, en fum dat word went roun' dat ole man Squinch\nOwl done kotch nudder watzizname.\"\n\n*1 An Atlanta friend heard this story in Florida, but an\n   alligator was substituted for the fox, and a little boy for\n   the rabbit. There is another version in which the impertinent\n   gosling goes to tell the fox something her mother has said,\n   and is caught; and there may be other versions. I have adhered\n   to the middle Georgia version, which is characteristic enough.\n   It may be well to state that there are different versions of\n   all the stories--the shrewd narrators of the mythology of the\n   old plantation adapting themselves with ready tact to the\n   years, tastes, and expectations of their juvenile audiences.\n\n\nXX. HOW MR. RABBIT SAVED HIS MEAT\n\n\"ONE time,\" said Uncle Remus, whetting his knife slowly and\nthoughtfully on the palm of his hand, and gazing reflectively in\nthe fire--\"one time Brer Wolf--\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Remus!\" the little boy broke in, \"I thought you said\nthe Rabbit scalded the Wolf to death a long time ago.\"\n\nThe old man was fairly caught and he knew it; but this made\nlittle difference to him. A frown gathered on his usually serene\nbrow as he turned his gaze upon the child--a frown in which both\nscorn and indignation were visible. Then all at once he seemed to\nregain control of himself. The frown was chased away by a look of\nChristian resignation.\n\n\"Dar now! W'at I tell you?\" he exclaimed as if addressing a\nwitness concealed under the bed. \"Ain't I done tole you so? Bless\ngrashus! ef chilluns ain't gittin' so dey knows mo'n ole fokes,\nen dey'll 'spute longer you en 'spute longer you, ceppin' der ma\ncall um, w'ich I speck 'twon't be long 'fo' she will, en den Ill\nset yere by de chimbly-cornder en git some peace er mine. W'en\nole Miss wuz livin',\" continued the old man, still addressing\nsome imaginary person, 'hit 'uz mo'n enny her chilluns 'ud dast\nter do ter come 'sputin' longer me, en Mars John'll tell you de\nsame enny day you ax 'im.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Remus, you know you said the Rabbit poured hot\nwater on the Wolf and killed him,\" said the little boy.\n\nThe old man pretended not to hear. He was engaged in searching\namong some scraps of leather under his chair, and kept on talking\nto the imaginary person. Finally, he found and drew forth a\nnicely plaited whip-thong with a red snapper all waxed and\nknotted.\n\n\"I wuz fixin' up a w'ip fer a little chap,\" he continued, with a\nsigh, \"but, bless grashus! 'fo' I kin git 'er done de little chap\ndone grow'd up twel he know mo'n I duz.\"\n\nThe child's eyes filled with tears and his lips began to quiver,\nbut he said nothing; whereupon Uncle Remus immediately melted.\n\n\"I 'clar' to goodness,\" he said, reaching out and taking the\nlittle boy tenderly by the hand, \"ef you ain't de ve'y spit en\nimage er ole Miss w'en I brung 'er de las' news er de war. Hit's\ndes like skeerin' up a ghos' w'at you ain't fear'd un.\"\n\nThen there was a pause, the old man patting the little child's\nhand caressingly.\n\n\"You ain't mad, is you, honey?\" Uncle Remus asked finally, \"kaze\nef you is, I'm gwine out yere en butt my head 'gin de do' jam'.\"\n\nBut the little boy wasn't mad. Uncle Remus had conquered him and\nhe had conquered Uncle Remus in pretty much the same way before.\nBut it was some time before Uncle Remus would go on with the\nstory. He had to be coaxed. At last, however, he settled himself\nback in the chair and began:\n\n\"Co'se, honey, hit mout er bin ole Brer Wolf, er hit mout er bin\ner n'er Brer Wolf; it mout er bin 'fo' he got kotch up wid, er it\nmout er bin atterwards. Ez de tale wer gun to me des dat away I\ngin it unter you. One time Brer Wolf wuz comm' long home fum a\nfishin' frolic. He s'anter long de road, he did, wid his string\ner fish 'cross his shoulder, w'en fus' news you know ole Miss\nPa'tridge, she hop outer de bushes en flutter long right at Brer\nWolf nose. Brer Wolf he say ter hisse'f dat ole Miss Pa'tridge\ntryin' fer ter toll 'im 'way fum her nes', en wid dat he lay his\nfish down en put out inter de bushes whar ole Miss Pa'tridge come\nfum, en 'bout dat time Brer Rabbit, he happen long. Dar wuz de\nfishes, en dar wuz Brer Rabbit, en w'en dat de case w'at you\nspeck a sorter innerpen'ent man like Brer Rabbit gwine do? I kin\ntell you dis, dat dem fishes ain't stay whar Brer Wolf put um at,\nen w'en Brer Wolf come back dey wuz gone.\n\n\"Brer Wolf, he sot down en scratch his head, he  did,  en study\nen study, en den hit sorter rush inter his mine dat Brer Rabbit\nbin 'long dar, en den Brer Wolf, he put out fer Brer Rabbit\nhouse, en w'en he git dar he hail 'im. Brer Rabbit, he dunno\nnuthin' tall 'bout no fishes. Brer Wolf he up'n say he bleedzd\nter bleeve Brer Rabbit got dem fishes. Brer Rabbit 'ny it up en\ndown, but Brer Wolf stan' to it dat Brer Rabbit got dem fishes.\nBrer Rabbit, he say dat if Brer Wolf b'leeve he got de fishes,\nden he give Brer Wolf lief fer ter kill de bes' cow he got. Brer\nWolf, he tuck Brer Rabbit at his word, en go off ter de pastur'\nen drive up de cattle en kill Brer Rabbit bes' cow.\n\n\"Brer Rabbit, he hate mighty bad fer ter lose his cow, but he lay\nhis plans, en he tell his chilluns dat he gwineter have dat beef\nyit. Brer Wolf, he bin tuck up by de patter-rollers 'fo' now, en\nhe mighty skeer'd un um, en fus news you know, yer come Brer\nRabbit hollerin' en tellin' Brer Wolf dat de patter-rollers\ncomin'.\n\n\"'You run en hide, Brer Wolf,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en I'll\nstay yer en take keer er de cow twel you gits back,' sezee.\n\n\"Soon's Brer Wolf hear talk er de patter-rollers, he scramble off\ninter de underbrush like he bin shot out'n a gun. En he wa'n't\nmo'n gone 'fo' Brer Rabbit, he whirl in en skunt de cow en salt\nde hide down, en den he tuck'n cut up de kyarkiss en stow it 'way\nin de smoke-'ouse, en den he tuck'n stick de een' er de cow-tail\nin de groun'. Atter he gone en done all dis, den Brer Rabbit he\nsquall out fer Brer Wolf:\n\n\"'Run yer, Brer Wolf! Run yer! Yo' cow gwine in de groun'! Run\nyer!'\n\n\"W'en ole Brer Wolf got dar, w'ich he come er scootin', dar wuz\nBrer Rabbit hol'in' on ter de cow-tail, fer ter keep it fum gwine\nin de groun'. Brer Wolf, he kotch holt, en dey 'gin a pull er two\nen up come de tail. Den Brer Rabbit, he wink his off eye en say,\nsezee:\n\n\"'Dar! de tail done pull out en de cow gone,' sezee. But Brer\nWolf he wern't de man fer ter give it up dat away, en he got 'im\na spade, en a pick-axe, en a shovel, en he dig en dig fer dat cow\ntwel diggin' wuz pas' all endu'unce, en ole Brer Rabbit he sot up\ndar in his front po'ch en smoke his seegyar. Eve'y time ole Brer\nWolf stuck de pick-axe in de clay, Brer Rabbit, he giggle ter his\nchilluns:\n\n\"'He diggy, diggy, diggy, but no meat dar! He diggy, diggy,\ndiggy, but no meat dar!'\n\n\"Kase all de time de cow wuz layin' pile up in his smoke-'ouse,\nen him en his chilluns wuz eatin' fried beef an inguns eve'y time\ndey mouf water.\n\n\"Now den, honey, you take dis yer w'ip,\" continued the old man,\ntwining the leather thong around the little boy's neck, \"en\nscamper up ter de big 'ouse en tell Miss Sally fer ter gin you\nsome un it de nex' time she fine yo' tracks in de sugar-bar'l.\"\n\n\nXXI. MR. RABBIT MEETS HIS MATCH AGAIN\n\n\"DERE wuz nudder man dat sorter play it sharp on Brer Rabbit,\"\nsaid Uncle Remus, as, by some mysterious process, he twisted a\nhog's bristle into the end of a piece of thread--an operation\nwhich the little boy watched with great interest. \"In dem days,\"\ncontinued the old man, \"de creeturs kyar'd on marters same ez\nfokes. Dey went inter fahmin', en I speck ef de troof wuz ter\ncome out, dey kep' sto', en had der camp-meetin' times en der\nbobbycues w'en de wedder wuz 'greeble.\"\n\nUncle Remus evidently thought that the little boy wouldn't like\nto hear of any further discomfiture of Brer Rabbit, who had come\nto be a sort of hero, and he was not mistaken.\n\n\"I thought the Terrapin was the only one that fooled the Rabbit,\"\nsaid the little boy, dismally.\n\n\"Hit's des like I tell you, honey. Dey ain't no smart man, 'cep'\nw'at dey's a smarter. Ef ole Brer Rabbit hadn't er got kotch up\nwid, de nabers 'ud er took 'im for a ha'nt, en in dem times dey\nbu'nt witches 'fo' you could squinch yo' eyeballs. Dey did dat.\"\n\n\"Who fooled the Rabbit this time?\" the little boy asked.\n\nWhen Uncle Remus had the bristle \"sot\" in the thread, he\nproceeded with the story:\n\n\"One time Brer Rabbit en ole Brer Buzzard 'cluded dey'd sorter\ngo shares, en crap tergedder. Hit wuz a mighty good year, en de\ntruck tu'n out monstus well, but bimeby, w'en de time come fer\ndividjun, hit come ter light dat ole Brer Buzzard ain't got\nnuthin'. De crap wuz all gone, en dey want nuthin' dar fer ter\nshow fer it. Brer Rabbit, he make like he in a wuss fix'n Brer\nBuzzard, en he mope 'roun', he did, like he fear'd dey gwineter\nsell 'im out.\n\n\"Brer Buzzard, he ain't sayin' nuthin', but he keep up a monstus\nthinkin', en one day he come 'long en holler en tell Brer Rabbit\ndat he done fine rich gol'-mine des 'cross de river.\n\n\"'You come en go longer me, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Tukkey\nBuzzard, sezee. 'Ill scratch en you kin grabble, en 'tween de two\nun us we'll make short wuk er dat gol'-mine,' sezee.\n\n\"Brer Rabbit, he wuz high up fer de job, but he study en study,\nhe did, how he gwineter git 'cross de water, kaze ev'y time he\ngit his foot wet all de fambly kotch col'. Den he up'n ax Brer\nBuzzard how he gwine do, en Brer Buzzard he up'n say dat he kyar\nBrer Rabbit 'cross, en wid dat ole Brer Buzzard, he squot down,\nhe did, en spread his wings, en Brer Rabbit, he mounted, en up\ndey riz.\" There was a pause.\n\n\"What did the Buzzard do then?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Dey riz,\" continued Uncle Remus, \"en w'en dey lit, dey lit in de\ntop er de highest sorter pine, en de pine w'at dey lit in wuz\ngrowin' on er ilun, en de ilun wuz in de middle er de river, wid\nde deep water runnin' all 'roun'. Dey ain't mo'n lit 'fo' Brer\nRabbit, he know w'ich way de win' 'uz blowin', en by de time ole\nBrer Buzzard got hisse'f balance on a lim', Brer Rabbit, he up'n\nsay, sezee:\n\n\"'W'iles we er res'n here, Brer Buzzard, en bein's you bin so\ngood, I got sump'n fer ter tell you,' sezee. 'I got a gol'-mine\ner my own, one w'at I make myse'f, en I speck we better go back\nter mine 'fo' we bodder 'longer yone,' sezee.\n\n\"Den ole Brer Buzzard, he laff, he did, twel he shake, en Brer\nRabbit, he sing out:\n\n\"'Hol' on, Brer Buzzard! Don't flop yo' wings w'en you laff, kaze\nden if you duz, sump'n 'ill drap fum up yer, en my gol'-mine\nwon't do you no good, en needer will yone do me no good.'\n\n\"But 'fo' dey got down fum dar, Brer Rabbit done tole all 'bout\nde crap, en he hatter prommus fer ter 'vide fa'r en squar. So\nBrer Buzzard, he kyar 'im back, en Brer Rabbit he walk weak in\nde knees a mont' atterwuds.\"\n\n\nXXII. A STORY ABOUT THE LITTLE RABBITS\n\n\"FIN' um whar you will en w'en you may,\" remarked Uncle Remus\nwith emphasis, \"good chilluns allers gits tuck keer on. Dar wuz\nBrer Rabbit's chilluns; dey minded der daddy en mammy fum day's\neen' ter day's een'. W'en ole man Rabbit say scoot,' dey scooted,\nen w'en ole Miss Rabbit say 'scat,' dey scatted. Dey did dat. En\ndey kep der cloze clean, en dey ain't had no smut on der nose\nnudder.\"\n\nInvoluntarily the hand of the little boy went up to his face, and\nhe scrubbed the end of his nose with his coat-sleeve.\n\n\"Dey wuz good chilluns,\" continued the old man, heartily, \"en ef\ndey hadn't er bin, der wuz one time w'en dey wouldn't er bin no\nlittle rabbits--na'er one. Dat's w'at.\"\n\n\"What time was that, Uncle Remus?\" the little boy asked.\n\n\"De time w'en Brer Fox drapt in at Brer Rabbit house, en didn't\nfoun' nobody dar ceppin' de little Rabbits. Ole Brer Rabbit, he\nwuz off some'rs raiding on a collard patch, en ole Miss Rabbit\nshe wuz tendin' on a quiltin' in de naberhood, en wiles de little\nRabbits wuz playin' hidin'-switch, in drapt Brer Fox. De little\nRabbits wuz so fat dat dey fa'rly make his mouf water, but he\n'member 'bout Brer Wolf, en he skeer'd fer ter gobble urn up\nceppin' he got some skuse. De little Rabbits, dey mighty\nskittish, en dey sorter huddle deyse'f up tergedder en watch Brer\nFox motions. Brer Fox, he sot dar en study w'at sorter skuse he\ngwineter make up. Bimeby he see a great big stalk er sugar-cane\nstan'in' up in de cornder, en he cle'r up his th'oat en talk\nbiggity:\n\n\"'Yer! you young Rabs dar, sail 'roun' yer en broke me a piece er\ndat sweetnin'-tree,' sezee, en den he koff.\n\n\"De little Rabbits, dey got out de sugar-cane, dey did, en dey\nrastle wid it, en sweat over it, but twan't no  use.  Dey\ncouldn't broke it. Brer Fox, he make like he ain't  watchin', but\nhe keep on holler'n:\n\n\"'Hurry up dar, Rabs! I'm a waitin' on you.'\n\n\"En de little Rabbits, dey hustle 'roun' en rastle wid it, but\nthey couldn't broke it. Bimeby dey hear little bird singin' on\ntop er de house, en de song w'at de little bird sing wuz dish\nyer.\n\n\"'Take yo' toofies en gnyaw it,\nTake yo' toofies en saw it,\nSaw it en yoke it,\nEn den you kin broke it.'\n\n\"Den de little Rabbits, dey git mighty glad, en dey gnyawed de\ncane mos' 'fo' 'ole Brer Fox could git his legs oncrosst, en w'en\ndey kyard 'im de cane, Brer Fox, he sot dar en study how he\ngwineter make some mo' skuse fer nabbin' un um, en bimeby he git\nup en git down de sifter w'at wuz hangin' on de wall, en holler\nout:\n\n\"'Come yer, Rabs! Take dish yer sifter, en run down't de spring\nen fetch me some fresh water.'\n\n\"De little Rabbits, dey run down't de spring, en try ter dip up\nde water wid de sifter, but co'se hit all run out, en hit keep on\nrunnin' out, twel bimeby de little Rabbits sot down en 'gun ter\ncry. Den de little bird settin' up in de tree he begin fer ter\nsing, en dish yer's de song w'at he sing:\n\n\"'Sifter hol' water same ez a tray,\nEf you fill it wid moss en dob it wid clay;\nDe Fox git madder de longer you stay--\nFill it wid moss en dob it wid clay.'\n\n\"Up dey jump, de little Rabbits did, en dey fix de sifter so\n'twon't leak, en den dey kyar de water ter ole Brer Fox. Den Brer\nFox he git mighty mad, en p'int out a great big stick er wood, en\ntell de little Rabbits fer ter put dat on de fier. De little\nchaps dey got 'roun' de wood, dey did, en dey lif' at it so hard\ntwel dey could see der own sins, but de wood ain't budge. Den dey\nhear de little bird singin', en dish yer's de song w'at he sing:\n\n\"'Spit in yo' han's en tug it en toll it,\nEn git behime it, en push it, en pole it;\nSpit in yo' han's en r'ar back en roll it.'\n\n\"En des 'bout de time dey got de wood on de fier, der daddy, he\ncome skippin' in, en de little bird, he flew'd away. Brer Fox, he\nseed his game wuz up, en 'twan't long 'fo' he make his skuse en\nstart fer ter go.\n\n\"'You better Stay en take a snack wid me, Brer Fox,' sez Brer\nRabbit, sezee. 'Sence Brer Wolf done quite comin' en settin' up\nwid me, I gittin' so I feels right lonesome dese long nights,'\nsezee.\n\n\"But Brer Fox, he button up his coat-collar tight en des put out\nfer home. En dat w'at you better do, honey, kaze I see Miss\nSally's shadder sailin' backerds en forerds 'fo' de winder, en de\nfus' news you know she'll be spectin' un you.\"\n\n\nXXIII. MR. RABBIT AND MR. BEAR\n\n\"DAR wuz one season\" said Uncle Remus, pulling thoughtfully at\nhis whiskers, \"w'en Brer Fox say to hisse'f dat he speck he\nbetter whirl in en plant a goober-patch, en in dem days, mon, hit\nwuz tech en go. De wud wern't mo'n out'n his mouf 'fo' de groun'\n'uz brok'd up en de goobers 'uz planted. Ole Brer Rabbit, he sot\noff en watch de motions, he did, en he sorter shet one eye en\nsing to his chilluns:\n\n\"'Ti-yi! Tungalee!\nI eat um pea, I pick um pea.\nHit grow in de groun', hit grow so free;\nTi-yi! dem goober pea.'\n\n\"Sho' 'nuff w'en de goobers 'gun ter ripen up, eve'y time Brer\nFox go down ter his patch, he fine whar somebody bin grabblin'\n'mongst de vines, en he git mighty mad. He sorter speck who de\nsomebody is, but ole Brer Rabbit he cover his tracks so cute dat\nBrer Fox dunner how ter ketch 'im. Bimeby, one day Brer Fox take\na walk all roun' de groun'-pea patch, en 'twan't long 'fo' he\nfine a crack in de fence whar de rail done bin rub right smoove,\nen right dar he sot 'im a trap. He tuck'n ben' down a hick'ry\nsaplin', growin' in de fence-cornder, en tie one een' un a plow-\nline on de top, en in de udder een' he fix a loop-knot, en dat he\nfasten wid a trigger right in de crack. Nex' mawnin' w'en ole\nBrer Rabbit come slippin' 'long en crope thoo de crack, de\nloop-knot kotch 'im behime de fo'legs, en de saplin' flew'd up,\nen dar he wuz 'twix' de heavens en de yeth. Dar he swung, en he\nfear'd he gwineter fall, en he fear'd he wer'n't gwineter fall.\nW'ile he wuz a fixin' up a tale fer Brer Fox, he hear a lumberin'\ndown de road, en present'y yer cum ole Brer B'ar amblin' 'long\nfum whar he bin takin' a bee-tree. Brer Rabbit, he hail 'im:\n\n\"'Howdy, Brer B'ar!'\n\n\"Brer B'ar, he look 'roun en bimeby he see Brer Rabbit swingin'\nfum de saplin', en he holler out:\n\n\"'Heyo, Brer Rabbit! How you come on dis mawnin'?'\n\n\"'Much oblije, I'm middlin', Brer B'ar,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer B'ar, he ax Brer Rabbit w'at he doin' up dar in de\nelements, en Brer Rabbit, he up'n say he makin' dollar minnit.\nBrer B'ar, he say how. Brer Rabbit say he keepin' crows out'n\nBrer Fox's groun' pea patch, en den he ax Brer B'ar ef he don't\nwanter make dollar minnit, kaze he got big fambly er chilluns fer\nto take keer un, en den he make sech nice skeercrow. Brer B'ar\n'low dat he take de job, en den Brer Rabbit show 'im how ter ben'\ndown de saplin', en 'twan't long 'fo' Brer B'ar wuz swingin' up\ndar in Brer Rabbit's place. Den Brer Rabbit, he put out fer Brer\nFox house, en w'en he got dar he sing out:\n\n\"'Brer Fox! Oh, Brer Fox! Come out yer, Brer Fox, en I'll show\nyou de man w'at bin stealin' yo' goobers.'\n\n\"Brer Fox, he grab up his walkin'-stick, en bofe un um went\nrunnin' back down ter der goober-patch, en w'en dey got dar, sho\n'nuff, dar wuz ole Brer B'ar.\n\n\"'Oh, yes! you er kotch, is you?' sez Brer Fox, en 'fo' Brer B'ar\ncould 'splain, Brer Rabbit he jump up en down, en holler out:\n\n\"'Hit 'im in de mouf, Brer Fox; hit 'im in do mouf'; en Brer Fox,\nhe draw back wid de walkin' cane, en blip he tuck 'im, en eve'y\ntime Brer B'ar'd try ter 'splain, Brer Fox'd shower down on him.\n\n\"W'iles all dis 'uz gwine on, Brer Rabbit, he slip off en git in\na mud-hole en des lef' his eyes stickin' out, kaze he know'd dat\nBrer B'ar'd be a comin' atter 'im. Sho 'nuff, bimeby here come\nBrer B'ar down de road, en w'en he git ter de mud-hole, he say:\n\n\"'Howdy, Brer Frog; is you seed Brer Rabbit go by yer?'\n\n\"'He des gone by,' sez Brer Rabbit, en ole man B'ar tuck off down\nde road like a skeer'd mule, en Brer Rabbit, he come out en dry\nhisse'f in de sun, en go home ter his fambly same ez enny udder\nman.\n\n\"The Bear didn't catch the Rabbit, then?\" inquired the little\nboy, sleepily.\n\n\"Jump up fum dar, honey!\" exclaimed Uncle Remus, by way of\nreply. \"I ain't got no time fer ter be settin' yer proppin' yo'\neyeleds open.\"\n\n\nXXIV. MR. BEAR CATCHES OLD MR. BULL-FROG\n\n\"WELL, Uncle Remus,\" said the little boy, counting to see if he\nhadn't lost a marble somewhere, \"the Bear didn't catch the Rabbit\nafter all, did he?\"\n\n\"Now you talkin', honey,\" replied the old man, his earnest face\nbreaking up into little eddies of smiles--\"now you talkin' sho.\n'Tain't bin proned inter no Brer B'ar fer ter kotch Brer Rabbit.\nHit sorter like settin' a mule fer ter trap a hummin'-bird. But\nBrer B'ar, he tuck'n got hisse'f inter some mo' trubble, w'ich it\nlook like it mighty easy. Ef folks could make der livin' longer\ngittin' inter trubble,\" continued the old man, looking curiously\nat the little boy, \"ole Miss Favers wouldn't be bodder'n yo' ma\nfer ter borry a cup full er sugar eve'y now en den; en it look\nlike ter me dat I knows a nigger dat wouldn't be squattin' 'roun'\nyer makin' dese yer fish-baskits.\"\n\n\"How did the Bear get into more trouble, Uncle Remus?\" asked the\nlittle boy.\n\n\"Natchul, honey. Brer B'ar, he tuck a notion dat  ole  Brer\nBull-frog wuz de man w'at fool 'im, en he say dat he'd come up\nwid 'im ef 'twuz a year atterwuds. But 'twan't no year, an\n'twan't no mont', en mo'n dat, hit wa'n't skasely a week, w'en\nbimeby one day Brer B'ar wuz gwine home fum de takin' un a\nbee-tree, en lo en behol's, who should he see but ole Brer\nBull-frog settin' out on de aidge er de mud-muddle fas' 'sleep!\nBrer B'ar drap his axe, he did, en crope up, en retch out wid his\npaw, en scoop ole Brer Bull-frog in des dis away.\" Here the old\nman used his hand ladle-fashion, by way of illustration. \"He\nscoop 'im in, en dar he wuz. W'en Brer B'ar got his clampers on\n'im good, he sot down en talk at 'im.\n\n\"'Howdy, Brer Bull-frog, howdy! En how yo fambly? I hope dey er\nwell, Brer Bull-frog, kaze dis day you got some bizness wid me\nw'at'll las' you a mighty long time.'\n\n\"Brer Bull-frog, he dunner w'at ter say. He dunner w'at's up, en\nhe don't say nuthin'. Ole Brer B'ar he keep runnin' on:\n\n\"'You er de man w'at tuck en fool me 'bout Brer Rabbit t'er day.\nYou had yo' fun, Brer Bull-frog, en now I'll git mine.'\n\n\"Den Brer Bull-frog, he gin ter git skeer'd, he did, en he up'n\nsay:\n\n\"'W'at I bin doin', Brer B'ar? How I bin foolin' you?'\n\n\"Den Brer B'ar laff, en make like he dunno, but he keep on\ntalkin'.\n\n\"'Oh, no, Brer Bull-frog! You ain't de man w'at stick yo' head up\nout'n de water en tell me Brer Rabbit done gone on by. Oh, no!\nyou ain't de man. I boun' you ain't. 'Bout dat time, you wuz at\nhome with yo' fambly, whar you allers is. I dunner whar you wuz,\nbut I knows whar you is, Brer Bull-frog, en hit's you en me fer\nit. Atter de sun goes down dis day you don't fool no mo' folks\ngwine 'long dis road.'\n\n\"Co'se, Brer Bull-frog dunner w'at Brer B'ar drivin' at, but he\nknow sump'n hatter be done, en dat mighty soon, kaze Brer B'ar\n'gun to snap his jaws tergedder en foam at de mouf, en Brer\nBull-frog holler out:\n\n\"'Oh, pray, Brer B'ar! Lemme off dis time, en I won't never do so\nno mo'. Oh, pray, Brer B'ar! do lemme off dis time, en I'll show\nyou de fattes' bee-tree in de woods.'\n\n\"Ole Brer B'ar, he chomp his toofies en foam at de mouf. Brer\nBull-frog he des up'n squall:\n\n\"'Oh, pray, Brer B'ar! I won't never do so no mo'! Oh, pray, Brer\nB'ar! Lemme off dis time!'\n\n\"But ole Brer B'ar say he gwineter make way wid 'im, en den he\nsot en study, ole Brer B'ar did, how he gwineter squench Brer\nBull-frog. He know he can't drown 'im, en he ain't got no fier\nfer ter bu'n 'im, en he git mighty pestered. Bimeby ole Brer\nBull-frog, he sorter stop his cryin' en his boo-hooin', en he\nup'n say:\n\n\"'Ef you gwineter kill me, Brer B'ar, kyar me ter dat big flat\nrock out dar on de aidge er de mill-pon', whar I kin see my\nfambly, en atter I see um, den you kin take you axe en sqush me.'\n\n\"Dis look so fa'r and squar' dat Brer B'ar he 'gree, en he take\nole Brer Bull-frog by wunner his behime legs, en sling his axe on\nhis shoulder, en off he put fer de big flat rock. When he git dar\nhe lay Brer Bullfrog down on de rock, en Brer Bull-frog make like\nhe lookin' 'roun' fer his folks. Den Brer B'ar, he draw long\nbreff en pick up his axe. Den he spit in his han's en draw back\nen come down on de rock--pow!\"\n\n\"'Did he kill the Frog, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy, as\nthe old man paused to scoop up a thimbleful of glowing embers in\nhis pipe.\n\n\"'Deed, en dat he didn't, honey. 'Twix' de time w'en Brer B'ar\nraise up wid his axe en w'en he come down wid it, ole Brer\nBull-frog he lipt up en dove down in de mill-pon', kerblink-\nkerblunk! En w'en he riz way out in de pon' he riz a singin', en\ndish yer's de song w'at he sing:\n\n\"'Ingle-go-jang, my joy, my joy-\nIngle-go-jang, my joy!\nI'm right at home, my joy, my joy-\nIngle-go-jang, my joy!'\"\n\n\"That's a mighty funny song,\" said the little boy.\n\n\"Funny now, I speck,\" said the old man, \"but 'tweren't funny in\ndem days, en 'twouldn't be funny now ef folks know'd much 'bout\nde Bull-frog langwidge ez dey useter. Dat's w'at.\"\n\n\nXXV. HOW MR. RABBIT LOST HIS FINE BUSHY TAIL\n\n\"ONE time,\" said Uncle Remus, sighing heavily and settling\nhimself back in his seat with an air of melancholy resignation--\n\"one time Brer Rabbit wuz gwine 'long down de road shakin' his\nbig bushy tail, en feelin' des ez scrumpshus ez a bee-martin wid\na fresh bug.\" Here the old man paused and glanced at the little\nboy, but it was evident that the youngster had become so\naccustomed to the marvelous developments of Uncle Remus's\nstories, that the extraordinary statement made no unusual\nimpression upon him. Therefore the old man began again, and this\ntime in a louder and more insinuating tone:\n\n\"One time ole man Rabbit, he wuz gwine 'long down de road\nshakin' his long, bushy tail, en feelin' mighty biggity.\"\n\nThis was effective.\n\n\"Great goodness, Uncle Remus!\" exclaimed the little boy in\nopen-eyed wonder, \"everybody knows that rabbits haven't got long,\nbushy tails.\"\n\nThe old man shifted his position in his chair and allowed his\nvenerable head to drop forward until his whole appearance was\nsuggestive of the deepest dejection; and this was intensified by\na groan that seemed to be the result of great mental agony.\nFinally he spoke, but not as addressing himself to the little\nboy.\n\n\"I notices dat dem fokes w'at makes a great 'miration 'bout w'at\ndey knows is des de fokes w'ich you can't put no 'pennunce in\nw'en de 'cashun come up. Yer one un um now, en he done come en\nexcuse me er 'lowin dat rabbits is got long, bushy tails,  w'ich\ngoodness knows ef I'd a dremp' it, I'd a whirl in en on-dremp\nit.\"\n\n\"Well, but Uncle Remus, you said rabbits had long, bushy tails,\"\nreplied the little boy. \"Now you know you did.\"\n\n\"Ef I ain't fergit it off'n my mine, I say dat ole Brer Rabbit\nwuz gwine down de big road shakin' his long, bushy tail. Dat w'at\nI say, en dat I stan's by.\"\n\nThe little boy looked puzzled, but he didn't say anything. After\na while the old man continued:\n\n\"Now, den, ef dat's 'greed ter, I'm gwine on, en ef tain't 'greed\nter, den I'm gwineter pick up my cane en look atter my own\nintrust. I got wuk lyin''roun' yer dat's des natchully gittin'\nmoldy.\"\n\nThe little boy still remained quiet, and Uncle Remus proceeded:\n\n\"One day Brer Rabbit wuz gwine down de road shakin' his long,\nbushy tail, w'en who should he strike up wid but ole Brer Fox\ngwine amblin' long wid a big string er fish! W'en dey pass de\ntime er day wid wunner nudder, Brer Rabbit, he open up de confab,\nhe did, en he ax Brer Fox whar he git dat nice string er fish, en\nBrer Fox, he up'n 'spon' dat he kotch um, en Brer Rabbit, he say\nwhar'bouts, en Brer Fox, he say down at de babtizin' creek, en\nBrer Rabbit he ax how, kaze in dem days dey wuz monstus fon' er\nminners, en Brer Fox, he sot down on a log, he did, en he up'n\ntell Brer Rabbit dat all he gotter do fer ter git er big mess er\nminners is ter go ter de creek atter sundown, en drap his tail in\nde water en set dar twel day-light, en den draw up a whole armful\ner fishes, en dem w'at he don't want, he kin fling back.\n\n\"Right dar's whar Brer Rabbit drap his watermillion, kaze he\ntuck'n sot out dat night en went a fishin'. De wedder wuz sorter\ncol', en Brer Rabbit, he got 'im a bottle er dram en put out fer\nde creek, en w'en he git dar he pick out a good place, en he\nsorter squot down, he did, en let his tail hang in de water. He\nsot dar, en he sot dar, en he drunk his dram, en he think he\ngwineter freeze, but bimeby day come, en dar he wuz. He make a\npull, en he feel like he comin' in two, en he fetch nudder jerk,\nen lo en beholes, whar wuz his tail?\"\n\nThere was a long pause.\n\n\"Did it come off, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy, presently.\n\n\"She did dat!\" replied the old man with unction. \"She did dat,\nand dat w'at make all deze yer bob-tail rabbits w'at you see\nhoppin' en skaddlin' thoo de woods.\"\n\n\"Are they all that way just because the old Rabbit lost his tail\nin the creek?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Dat's it, honey,\" replied the old man. \"Dat's w'at dey tells me.\nLook like dey er bleedzd ter take atter der pa.\"\n\n\nXXVI. MR. TERRAPIN SHOWS HIS STRENGTH\n\n\"BRER TARRYPIN wuz de out'nes' man,\" said Uncle Remus, rubbing\nhis hands together contemplatively, and chuckling to himself in a\nvery significant manner; \"he wuz de out'nes' man er de whole\ngang. He wuz dat.\"\n\nThe little boy sat perfectly quiet, betraying no impatience when\nUncle Remus paused to hunt, first in one pocket and then in\nanother, for enough crumbs of tobacco to replenish his pipe.\nPresently the old man proceeded:\n\n\"One night Miss Meadows en de gals dey gun a candy-pullin', en\nso many er de nabers come in 'sponse ter de invite dat dey hatter\nput de 'lasses in de wash pot en b'il' de fier in de yard. Brer\nB'ar, he holp*1 Miss Meadows bring de wood, Brer Fox, he men' de\nfier, Brer Wolf, he kep' de dogs off, Brer Rabbit, he grease de\nbottom er de plates fer ter keep de candy fum stickin', en Brer\nTarrypin, he klum up in a cheer, en say he'd watch en see dat de\n'lasses didn't bile over. Dey wuz all dere, en dey wern't cuttin'\nup no didos, nudder, kaze Miss Meadows, she done put her foot\ndown, she did, en say dat w'en dey come ter her place dey hatter\nhang up a flag er truce at de front gate en 'bide by it.\n\n\"Well, den, w'iles dey wuz all a settin' dar en de 'lasses wuz a\nbilin' en a blubberin', dey got ter runnin' on talkin' mighty\nbiggity. Brer Rabbit, he say he de swiffes'; but Brer Tarrypin,\nhe rock long in de cheer en watch de 'lasses. Brer Fox, he say he\nde sharpes', but Brer Tarrypin he rock long. Brer Wolf, he say he\nde mos' suvvigus, but Brer Tarrypin, he rock en he rock long.\nBrer B'ar, he say he de mos' stronges', but Brer Tarrypin he\nrock, en he keep on rockin'. Bimeby he sorter shet one eye, en\nsay, sezee:\n\n\"'Hit look like 'periently dat de ole hardshell ain't nowhars\n'longside er dis crowd, yit yer I is, en I'm de same man w'at\nshow Brer Rabbit dat he ain't de swiffes'; en I'm de same man\nw'at kin show Brer B'ar dat he ain't de stronges',' sezee.\n\n\"Den dey all laff en holler, kaze it look like Brer B'ar mo'\nstronger dan a steer. Bimeby, Miss Meadows, she up'n ax, she did,\nhow he gwine do it.\n\n\"'Gimme a good strong rope,' sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, 'en lemme\ngit in er puddle er water, en den let Brer B'ar see ef he kin\npull me out,' sezee.\n\n\"Den dey all laff 'gin, en Brer B'ar, he ups en sez, sezee: 'We\nain't got no rope,' sezee.\n\n\"'No,' sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, 'en needer is you got de strenk,'\nsezee, en den Brer Tarrypin, he rock en rock long, en watch de\n'lasses a bilin' en a blubberin'.\n\n\"Atter w'ile Miss Meadows, she up en say, she did, dat she'd\ntake'n loan de young men her bed-cord, en w'iles de candy wuz a\ncoolin' in de plates, dey could all go ter de branch en see Brer\nTarrypin kyar out his projick. Brer Tarrypin,\" continued Uncle\nRemus, in a tone at once confidential and argumentative, \"weren't\nmuch bigger'n de pa'm er my han', en it look mighty funny fer ter\nyear 'im braggin' 'bout how he kin out-pull Brer B'ar. But dey\ngot de bed-cord atter w'ile, en den dey all put out ter de\nbranch. W'en Brer Tarrypin fine de place he wanter, he tuck one\neen er de bed-cord, en gun de yuther een' to Brer B'ar.\n\n\"'Now den, ladies en gents,' sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, 'you all\ngo wid Brer B'ar up dar in de woods en I'll stay yer, en w'en you\nyear me holler, den's de time fer Brer B'ar fer ter see ef he kin\nhaul in de slack er de rope. You all take keer er dat ar een','\nsezee, 'en I'll take keer er dish yer een',' sezee.\n\n\"Den dey all put out en lef' Brer Tarrypin at de branch, en w'en\ndey got good en gone, he dove down inter de water, he did, en tie\nde bed-cord hard en fas' ter wunner deze yer big clay-roots, en\nden he riz up en gin a whoop.\n\n\"Brer B'ar he wrop de bed-cord roun' his han,' en wink at de\ngals, en wid dat he gin a big juk, but Brer Tarrypin ain't budge.\nDen he take bof han's en gin a big pull, but, all de same, Brer\nTarrypin ain't budge. Den he tu'n 'roun', he did, en put de rope\ncross his shoulders en try ter walk off wid Brer Tarrypin, but\nBrer Tarrypin look like he don't feel like walkin'. Den Brer Wolf\nhe put in en holp Brer B'ar pull, but des like he didn't, en den\ndey all holp 'im, en, bless grashus! w'iles dey wuz all a\npullin', Brer Tarrypin, he holler, en ax um w'y dey don't take up\nde slack.\n\n\"Den w'en Brer Tarrypin feel um quit pullin', he dove down, he\ndid, en ontie de rope, en by de time dey got ter de branch, Brer\nTarrypin, he wuz settin' in de aidge er de water des ez natchul\nez de nex' un, en he up'n say, sezee:\n\n\"'Dat las' pull er yone wuz a mighty stiff un, en a leetle mo'n\nyou'd er had me,' sezee. 'You er monstus stout, Brer B'ar,'\nsezee, 'en you pulls like a yoke er steers, but I sorter had de\npurchis on you,' sezee.\n\n\"Den Brer B'ar, bein's his mouf 'gun ter water atter de\nsweetnin,' he up'n say he speck de candy's ripe, en off dey put\natter it!\"\n\n\"It's a wonder,\" said the little boy, after a while, \"that the\nrope didn't break.\"\n\n\"Break who?\" exclaimed Uncle Remus, with a touch of\nindignation in his tone--\"break who? In dem days, Miss Meadows's\nbed-cord would a hilt a mule.\"\n\nThis put an end to whatever doubts the child might have\nentertained.\n\n*1  Help; helped.\n\n\nXXVII.  WHY MR. POSSUM HAS NO HAIR ON HIS TAIL\n\n\"HIT look like ter me,\" said Uncle Remus, frowning, as the\nlittle boy came hopping and skipping into the old man's cabin,\n\"dat I see a young un 'bout yo' size playin' en makin' free wid\ndem ar chilluns er ole Miss Favers's yistiddy, en w'en I seed\ndat, I drap my axe, en I come in yer en sot flat down right whar\nyou er settin' now, en I say ter myse'f dat it's 'bout time fer\nole Remus fer ter hang up en quit. Dat's des zackly w'at I say.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Remus, they called me,\" said the little boy, in a\npenitent tone. 'They come and called me, and said they had a\npistol and some powder over there.\"\n\n\"Dar now!\" exclaimed the old man, indignantly. \"Dar now! w'at I\nbin sayin'? Hit's des a born blessin' dat you wa'n't brung home\non a litter wid bofe eyeballs hangin' out en one year clean gone;\ndat's w'at 'tis. Hit's des a born blessin'. Hit hope me up\nmight'ly de udder day w'en I hear Miss Sally layin' down de law\n'bout you en dem Favers chillun, yit, lo en behol's, de fus news\nI knows yer you is han'-in-glove wid um. Hit's nuff fer ter fetch\nole Miss right up out'n dat berryin'-groun' fum down dar in\nPutmon County, en w'at yo' gran'ma wouldn't er stood me en yo' ma\nain't gwineter stan' nudder, en de nex time I hear 'bout sech a\ncome off ez dis, right den en dar I'm boun' ter lay de case 'fo'\nMiss Sally. Dem Favers's wa'n't no 'count 'fo' de war, en dey\nwa'n't no 'count endurin' er de war, en dey ain't no 'count\natterwards, en w'iles my head's hot you ain't gwineter go mixin'\nup yo'se'f wid de riff-raff er creashun.\"\n\nThe little boy made no further attempt to justify his conduct. He\nwas a very wise little boy, and he knew that, in Uncle Remus's\neyes, he had been guilty of a flagrant violation of the family\ncode. Therefore, instead of attempting to justify himself, he\npleaded guilty, and promised that he would never do so any more.\nAfter this there was a long period of silence, broken only by the\nvigorous style in which Uncle Remus puffed away at his pipe. This\nwas the invariable result. Whenever the old man had occasion to\nreprimand the little boy--and the occasions were frequent--he\nwould relapse into a dignified but stubborn silence. Presently\nthe youngster drew forth from his pocket a long piece of candle.\nThe sharp eyes of the old man saw it at once.\n\n\"Don't you come a tellin' me dat Miss Sally gun you dat,\" he\nexclaimed, \"kaze she didn't. En I lay you hatter be monstus sly\n'fo' you gotter chance fer ter snatch up dat piece er cannle.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Remus,\" the little boy explained, \"it was lying\nthere all by itself, and I just thought I'd fetch it out to you.\n\n\"Dat's so, honey,\" said Uncle Remus, greatly mollified; \"dat's\nso, kaze by now some er dem yuther niggers 'ud er done had her\nlit up. Dey er mighty biggity, dem house niggers is, but I\nnotices dat dey don't let nuthin' pass. Dey goes 'long wid der\nhan's en der mouf open, en w'at one don't ketch de tother one\ndo.\"\n\nThere was another pause, and finally the little boy said:\n\n\"Uncle Remus, you know you promised to-day to tell me why the\n'Possum has no hair on his tail.\"\n\n\"Law, honey! ain't you done gone en fergot dat off'n yo' mine\nyit? Hit look like ter me,\" continued the old man, leisurely\nrefilling his pipe, \"dat she sorter run like dis: One time ole\nBrer Possum, he git so hungry, he did, dat he bleedzd fer ter\nhave a mess er 'simmons. He monstus lazy man, old Brer Possum\nwuz, but bimeby his stummick 'gun ter growl en holler at 'im so\ndat he des hatter rack 'roun' en hunt up sump'n; en w'iles he wuz\nrackin' 'roun', who sh'd  he run up wid but Brer Rabbit, en dey\nwuz hail-fellers, kaze Brer Possum, he ain't bin bodder'n Brer\nRabbit like dem yuther creeturs. Dey sot down by de side er de\nbig road, en dar dey jabber en confab 'mong wunner nudder, twel\nbimeby old Brer Possum, he take 'n tell Brer Rabbit dat he mos'\npe'sh out, en Brer Rabbit, he lip up in de a'r, he did, en smack\nhis han's tergedder, en say dat he know right whar Brer Possum\nkin git a bait er 'simmons. Den Brer Possum, he say whar, en Brer\nRabbit, he say w'ich 'twuz over at Brer B'ar's 'simmon orchard.\"\n\n\"Did the Bear have a 'simmon orchard, Uncle Remus?\" the little\nboy asked.\n\n\"Co'se, honey, kaze in dem days Brer B'ar wuz a bee-hunter. He\nmake his livin' findin' bee trees, en de way he fine um he plant\n'im some 'simmon-trees, w'ich de bees dey'd come ter suck de\n'simmons en den ole Brer B'ar he'd watch um whar dey'd go, en\nden he'd be mighty ap' fer ter come up wid um. No matter 'bout\ndat, de 'simmon patch 'uz dar des like I tell you, en ole Brer\nPossum mouf 'gun ter water soon's he year talk un um, en mos'\n'fo' Brer Rabbit done tellin' 'im de news, Brer Possum, he put\nout, he did, en 'twa'n't long 'fo' he wuz perch up in de highes'\ntree in Brer B'ar 'simmon patch. But Brer Rabbit, he done\n'termin' fer ter see some fun, en w'iles all dis 'uz gwine on, he\nrun 'roun' ter Brer B'ar house, en holler en tell 'im w'ich dey\nwuz somebody 'stroyin' un his 'simmons, en Brer B'ar, he hustle\noff fer ter ketch 'im.\n\n\"Eve'y now en den Brer Possum think he year Brer B'ar comin',\nbut he keep on sayin', sezee:\n\n\"'I'll des git one 'simmon mo' en den I'll go; one 'simmon mo' en\nden I'll go.'\n\n\"Las' he year Brer B'ar comm' sho nuff, but 'twuz  de same ole\nchune--'One 'simmon mo' en den I'll go'--en des 'bout dat time\nBrer B'ar busted inter de patch, en gin de tree a shake, en Brer\nPossum, he drapt out longer de yuther ripe 'simmons, but time he\ntotch de groun' he got his foots tergedder, en he lit out fer de\nfence same ez a race-hoss, en 'cross dat patch him en Brer B'ar\nhad it, en Brer B'ar gain' eve'y jump, twel time Brer Possum make\nde fence Brer B'ar grab 'im by de tail, en Brer Possum, he went\nout 'tween de rails en gin a powerful juk en pull his tail out\n'twix Brer B'ar tushes; en, lo en behol's, Brer B'ar hol' so\ntight en Brer Possum pull so hard dat all de ha'r come off in\nBrer B'ar's mouf, w'ich, ef Brer Rabbit hadn't er happen up wid a\ngo'd er water, Brer B'ar 'der got strankle.\n\n\"Fum dat day ter dis,\" said Uncle Remus, knocking the ashes\ncarefully out of his pipe, \"Brer Possum ain't had no ha'r on his\ntail, en needer do his chilluns.\"\n\n\nXXVIII. THE END OF MR. BEAR\n\nTHE next time the little boy sought Uncle Remus out, he found the\nold man unusually cheerful and good-humoured. His rheumatism\nhad ceased to trouble him, and he was even disposed to be\nboisterous. He was singing when the little boy got near the\ncabin, and the child paused on the outside to listen to the\nvigorous but mellow voice of the old man, as it rose and fell\nwith the burden of the curiously plaintive song--a senseless\naffair so far as the words were concerned, but sung to a melody\nalmost thrilling in its sweetness:\n\n\"Han' me down my walkin'-cane\n (Hey my Lily! go down de road!),\nYo' true lover gone down de lane\n (Hey my Lily! go down de road!).\"\n\nThe quick ear of Uncle Remus, however, had detected the\npresence of the little boy, and he allowed his song to run into a\nrecitation of nonsense, of which the following, if it be rapidly\nspoken, will give a faint idea:\n\n\"Ole M'er Jackson, fines' confraction, fell down sta'rs fer to\ngit satisfaction; big Bill Fray, he rule de day, eve'ything he\ncall fer come one, two by three. Gwine 'long one day, met Johnny\nHuby, ax him grine nine yards er steel fer me, tole me w'ich he\ncouldn't; den I hist 'im over Hickerson Dickerson's barn-doors;\nknock 'im ninety-nine miles under water, w'en he rise, he rise in\nPike straddle un a hanspike, en I lef' 'im dar smokin' er de\nhornpipe, Juba reda seda breda. Aunt Kate at de gate; I want to\neat, she fry de meat en gimme skin, w'ich I fling it back agin.\nJuba!\"\n\nAll this, rattled off at a rapid rate and with apparent\nseriousness, was calculated to puzzle the little boy, and he\nslipped into his accustomed seat with an expression of awed\nbewilderment upon his face.\n\n\"Hit's all des dat away, honey,\" continued the old man, with the\nair of one who had just given an important piece of information.\n\"En w'en you bin cas'n shadders long ez de ole nigger, den you'll\nfine out who's w'ich, en w'ich's who.\"\n\nThe little boy made no response. He was in thorough sympathy\nwith all the whims and humors of the old man, and his capacity\nfor enjoying them was large enough to include even those he could\nnot understand. Uncle Remus was finishing an axe-handle, and upon\nthese occasions it was his custom to allow the child to hold one\nend while he applied sand-paper to the other. These relations\nwere pretty soon established, to the mutual satisfaction of the\nparties most interested, and the old man continued his remarks,\nbut this time not at random:\n\n\"W'en I see deze yer swell-head folks like dat 'oman w'at come en\ntell yo' ma 'bout you chunkin' at her chilluns, w'ich yo' ma make\nMars John strop you, hit make my mine run back to ole Brer B'ar.\nOle Brer B'ar, he got de swell-headedness hisse'f, en ef der wuz\nenny swinkin', hit swunk too late fer ter he'p ole Brer B'ar.\nLeas'ways dat's w'at dey tells me, en I ain't never yearn it\n'sputed.\"\n\n\"Was the Bear's head sure enough swelled, Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"Now you talkin', honey!\" exclaimed the old man.\n\n\"Goodness! what made it swell?\"\n\nThis was Uncle Remus's cue. Applying the sand-paper to the\naxe-helve with gentle vigor, he began.\n\n\"One time when Brer Rabbit wuz gwine lopin' home fum a frolic\nw'at dey bin havin' up at Miss Meadows's, who should he happin\nup wid but ole Brer B'ar. Co'se, atter w'at done pass 'twix um\ndey wa'n't no good feelin's 'tween Brer Rabbit en ole Brer B'ar,\nbut Brer Rabbit, he wanter save his manners, en so he holler out:\n\n\"'Heyo, Brer B'ar! how you come on? I ain't seed you in a coon's\nage. How all down at yo' house? How Miss Brune en Miss Brindle?\"\n\n\"Who was that, Uncle Remus?\" the little boy interrupted.\n\n\"Miss Brune en Miss Brindle? Miss Brune wuz Brer B'ar's ole\n'oman, en Miss Brindle wuz his gal. Dat w'at dey call um in dem\ndays. So den Brer Rabbit, he ax him howdy, he did, en Brer B'ar,\nhe 'spon' dat he wuz mighty po'ly, en dey amble 'long, dey did,\nsorter familious like, but Brer Rabbit, he keep one eye on Brer\nB'ar, en Brer B'ar, he study how he gwine nab Brer Rabbit. Las'\nBrer Rabbit, he up'n say, sezee:\n\n\"'Brer B'ar, I speck I got some bizness cut out fer you,' sezee.\n\n\"'What dat, Brer Rabbit?' sez Brer B'ar, sezee.\n\n\"'W'iles I wuz cleanin' up my new-groun' day 'fo' yistiddy,' sez\nBrer Rabbit, sezee, 'I come 'cross wunner deze yer ole time bee-\ntrees. Hit start holler at de bottom, en stay holler plum der de\ntop, en de honey's des natchully oozin' out, en ef you'll drap\nyo' 'gagements en go longer me,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'you'll\ngit a bait dat'll las' you en yo' fambly twel de middle er nex'\nmont',' sezee.\n\n\"Brer B'ar say he much oblije en he bleeve he'll go long, en wid\ndat dey put out fer Brer Rabbit's new-groun', w'ich 'twa'n't so\nmighty fur. Leas'ways, dey got dar atter w'ile. Ole Brer B'ar, he\n'low dat he kin smell de honey. Brer Rabbit, he 'low dat he kin\nsee de honey-koam. Brer B'ar, he 'low dat he can hear de bees a\nzoonin'. Dey stan' 'roun' en talk biggity, dey did,  twel bimeby\nBrer Rabbit, he up'n say, sezee:\n\n\"'You do de clim'in', Brer B'ar, en I'll do de rushin' 'roun';\nyou clim' up ter de hole, en I'll take dis yer pine pole en shove\nde honey up whar you kin git 'er,' sezee.\n\n\"Ole Brer B'ar, he spit on his han's en skint up de tree, en jam\nhis head in de hole, en sho nuff, Brer Rabbit, he grab de pine\npole, en de way he stir up dem bees wuz sinful--dat's w'at it\nwuz. Hit wuz sinful. En de bees dey swawm'd on Brer B'ar's head,\ntwel 'fo' he could take it out'n de hole hit wuz done swell up\nbigger dan dat dinner-pot, en dar he swung, en ole Brer Rabbit,\nhe dance 'roun' en sing:\n\n\"Tree stan' high, but honey mighty sweet--\nWatch dem bees wid stingers on der feet.'\n\n\"But dar ole Brer B'ar hung, en ef his head ain't swunk, I speck\nhe hangin' dar yit--dat w'at I speck.\"\n\n\nXXIX.  MR. FOX GETS INTO SERIOUS BUSINESS\n\n\"HIT turn out one time,\" said Uncle Remus, grinding some crumbs\nof tobacco between the palms of his hands, preparatory to\nenjoying his usual smoke after supper--\"hit turn out one time dat\nBrer Rabbit make so free wid de man's collard-patch dat de man he\ntuck'n sot a trap fer ole Brer Rabbit.\"\n\n\"Which man was that, Uncle Remus?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Des a man, honey. Dat's all. Dat's all I knows--des wunner dese\nyer mans w'at you see trollopin 'roun' eve'y day. Nobody ain't\nnever year w'at his name is, en ef dey did dey kep' de news\nmighty close fum me. Ef dish yer man is bleedzd fer ter have a\nname, den I'm done, kaze you'll hatter go fudder dan me. Ef you\nbleedzd ter know mo' dan w'at I duz, den you'll hatter hunt up\nsome er deze yer niggers w'at's sprung up sence I commence fer\nter shed my ha'r.\"\n\n\"Well, I just thought, Uncle Remus,\" said the little boy, in a\ntone remarkable for self-depreciation, \"that the man had a name.\"\n\n\"Tooby sho,\" replied the old man, with unction, puffing away at\nhis pipe. \"Co'se. Dat w'at make I say w'at I duz. Dish yer man\nmout a had a name, en den ag'in he moutn't. He mont er bin name\nSlip-shot Sam, en he mouter bin name ole One-eye Riley, w'ich ef\n'twuz hit ain't bin handed roun' ter me. But dish yer man, he in\nde tale, en w'at we gwine do wid 'im? Dat's de p'int, kase w'en I\ngit ter huntin' 'roun' 'mong my 'membunce atter dish yer Mister\nW'atyoumaycollum's name, she ain't dar. Now den, le's des call\n'im Mr. Man en let 'im go at dat.\"\n\nThe silence of the little boy gave consent.\n\n\"One time,\" said Uncle Remus, carefully taking up the thread of\nthe story where it had been dropped, \"hit turn out dat Brer\nRabbit bin makin' so free wid Mr. Man's greens en truck dat Mr.\nMan, he tuck'n sot a trap for Brer Rabbit, en Brer Rabbit he so\ngreedy dat he tuck'n walk right spang in it, 'fo' he know\nhisse'f. Well, 'twa'n't long 'fo' yer come Mr. Man, broozin'\n'roun', en he ain't no sooner see ole Brer Rabbit dan he smack\nhis han's tergedder en holler out:\n\n\"'You er nice feller, you is! Yer you bin gobblin' up my green\ntruck, en now you tryin' ter tote off my trap. You er mighty nice\nchap--dat's w'at you is! But now dat I got you, I'll des 'bout\nsettle wid you fer de ole en de new.'\n\n\"En wid dat, Mr. Man, he go off, he did, down in de bushes atter\nhan'ful er switches. Ole Brer Rabbit, he ain't sayin' nuthin',\nbut he feelin' mighty lonesome, en he sot dar lookin' like eve'y\nminnit wuz gwineter be de nex'. En w'iles Mr. Man wuz off\nprepa'r'n his bresh-broom, who should come p'radin' long but Brer\nFox. Brer Fox make a great 'miration, he did, 'bout de fix w'at\nhe fin' Brer Rabbit in, but Brer Rabbit he make like he fit ter\nkill hisse'f laffin', en he up'n tell Brer Fox, he did, dat Miss\nMeadows's fokes want 'im ter go down ter der house in 'tennunce\non a weddin', en he 'low w'ich he couldn't, en dey 'low how he\ncould, en den bimeby dey take'n tie 'im dar w'iles dey go atter\nde preacher, so he be dar' w'en dey come back. En mo'n dat, Brer\nRabbit up'n tell Brer Fox dat his chillun's mighty low wid de\nfever, en he bleedzd ter go atter some pills fer'm, en he ax Brer\nFox fer ter take his place en go down ter Miss Meadows's en have\nnice time wid de gals. Brer Fox, he in fer dem kinder pranks, en\n'twa'n't no time 'fo' Brer Rabbit had ole Brer Fox harness up dar\nin his place, en den he make like he got ter make 'as'e en git de\npills fer dem sick chilluns. Brer Rabbit wa'n't mo'n out er sight\n'fo' yer come Mr. Man wid a han'ful er hick'ries, but w'en he see\nBrer Fox tied up dar, he look like he 'stonished.\n\n\"'Heyo!' sez Mr. Man, sezee, 'you done change color, en you done\ngot bigger, en yo' tail done grow out. W'at kin' er w'atzyname is\nyou, ennyhow?' sezee.\n\n\"Brer Fox, he stay still, en Mr. Man, he talk on:\n\n\"'Hit's mighty big luck,' sezee, 'ef w'en I ketch de chap w'at\nnibble my greens, likewise I ketch de feller w'at gnyaw my\ngoose,' sezee, en wid dat he let inter Brer Fox wid de hick'ries,\nen de way he play rap-jacket wuz a caution ter de naberhood. Brer\nFox, he juk en he jump, en he squeal en he squall, but Mr. Man,\nhe shower down on 'im, he did, like fightin' a red was'nes'.\"\n\nThe little boy laughed, and Uncle Remus supplemented this\nindorsement of his descriptive powers with a most infectious\nchuckle.\n\n\"'Bimeby,\" continued the old man, \"de switches, dey got frazzle\nout, en Mr. Man, he put out atter mo', en w'en he done got fa'rly\nouter yearin', Brer Rabbit, he show'd up, he did, kaze he des bin\nhidin' out in de bushes lis'nin' at de racket, en he 'low hit\nmighty funny dat Miss Meadows ain't come 'long, kaze he done bin\ndown ter de doctor house, en dat's fudder dan de preacher, yit.\nBrer Rabbit make like he hurr'in' on home, but Brer Fox, he open\nup, he did, en he say:\n\n\"'I thank you fer ter tu'n me loose, Brer Rabbit, en I'll be\n'blije,' sezee, ''caze you done tie me up so tight dat it make my\nhead swim, en I don't speck I'd las' fer ter git ter Miss\nMeadows's,' sezee.\n\n\"Brer Rabbit, he sot down sorter keerless like, en begin fer ter\nscratch one year like a man studyin' 'bout sump'n.\n\n\"'Dat's so, Brer Fox,' sezee, 'you duz look sorter stove up. Look\nlike sump'n bin onkoamin' yo' ha'rs,' sezee.\n\n\"Brer Fox ain't sayin' nothin', but Brer Rabbit, he keep on\ntalkin':\n\n\"'Dey ain't no bad feelin's 'twix' us, is dey, Brer Fox? Kaze ef\ndey is, I ain't got no time fer ter be tarryin' 'roun' yer.'\n\n\"Brer Fox say w'ich he don't have no onfrennelness, en wid dat\nBrer Rabbit cut Brer Fox loose des in time fer ter hear Mr. Man\nw'isserlin up his dogs, en one went one way en de udder went\nnudder.\"\n\n\nXXX. HOW MR. RABBIT SUCCEEDED IN RAISING A DUST\n\n\"IN dem times,\" said Uncle Remus, gazing admiringly at himself\nin a fragment of looking-glass, \"Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox, en\nBrer Coon, en dem yuther creeturs go co'tin' en sparklin' 'roun'\nde naberhood mo' samer dan folks. 'Twan't no 'Lemme a hoss,' ner\n'Fetch me my buggy,' but dey des up'n lit out en tote deyse'f.\nDar's ole Brer Fox, he des wheel 'roun' en fetch his flank one\nswipe wid 'is tongue en he'd be koam up; en Brer Rabbit, he des\nspit on his han' en twis' it 'roun' 'mongst de roots er his years\nen his ha'r'd be roach. Dey wuz dat flirtashus,\" continued the\nold man, closing one eye at his image in the glass, \"dat Miss\nMeadows en de gals don't se no peace fum one week een' ter de\nudder. Chuseday wuz same as Sunday, en Friday wuz same as\nChuseday, en hit come down ter dat pass dat w'en Miss Meadows 'ud\nhave chicken-fixin's fer dinner, in 'ud drap Brer Fox en Brer\nPossum, en w'en she'd have fried greens in 'ud pop ole Brer\nRabbit, twel las' Miss Meadows, she tuck'n tell de gals dat she\nbe dad-blame ef she gwineter keep no tavvum. So dey fix it up\n'mong deyse'f, Miss Meadows en de gals did, dat de nex' time de\ngents call dey'd gin um a game. De gents, dey wuz a co'tin, but\nMiss Meadows, she don't wanter marry none un um, en needer duz de\ngals, en likewise dey don't wanter have um pester'n 'roun.' Las',\none Chuseday, Miss Meadows, she tole um dat ef dey come down ter\nher house de nex' Sat'day evenin', de whole caboodle on um 'ud go\ndown de road a piece, whar der wuz a big flint rock, en de man\nw'at could take a sludge-hammer en knock de dus' out'n dat rock,\nhe wuz de man w'at 'ud git de pick er de gals. Dey all say dey\ngwine do it, but ole Brer Rabbit, he crope off whar der wuz a\ncool place under some jimson weeds, en dar he sot wukkin his mind\nhow he gwineter git dus' out'n dat rock. Bimeby, w'ile he wuz a\nsettin' dar, up he jump en crack his heels tergedder en sing out:\n\n\"'Make a bow ter de Buzzard en den ter de Crow,\nTakes a limber-toe gemmun fer ter jump Jim Crow,'\n\n\"en wid dat he put out for Brer Coon house en borrer his slippers.\nW'en Sat'day evenin' come, dey wuz all dere. Miss Meadows en de\ngals, dey wuz dere; en Brer Coon, en Brer Fox, en Brer Possum, en\nBrer Tarrypin, dey wuz dere.\"\n\n\"Where was the Rabbit?\" the little boy asked.\n\n\"You kin put yo' 'pennunce in ole Brer Rabbit,\" the old man\nreplied, with a chuckle. \"He wuz dere, but he shuffle up kinder\nlate, kaze w'en Miss Meadows en de balance on um done gone down\nter de place, Brer Rabbit, he crope 'roun' ter de ash-hopper,\nen fill Brer Coon's slippers full er ashes, en den he tuck'n put\num on en march off. He got dar atter 'w'ile, en soon's Miss\nMeadows en de gals seed 'im, dey up'n giggle, en make a great\n'miration kaze Brer Rabbit got on slippers. Brer Fox, he so\nsmart, he holler out, he did, en say he lay Brer Rabbit got de\ngroun'-eatch, but Brer Rabbit, he sorter shet one eye, he did,\nen say, sezee:\n\n\"'I bin so useter ridin' hoss-back, ez deze ladies knows, dat I'm\ngittin' sorter tender-footed;' en dey don't hear much mo' fum\nBrer Fox dat day, kaze he 'member how Brer Rabbit done bin en rid\nhim; en hit 'uz des 'bout much ez Miss Meadows en de gals could\ndo fer ter keep der snickers fum gittin' up a 'sturbance 'mong de\ncongregashun. But, never mine dat, old Brer Rabbit, he wuz dar,\nen he so brash dat leetle mo' en he'd er grab up de sludge-hammer\nen er open up de racket 'fo' ennybody gun de word; but Brer Fox,\nhe shove Brer Rabbit out'n de way en pick up de sludge hisse'f.\nNow den,\" continued the old man, with pretty much the air of one\nwho had been the master of similar ceremonies, \"de progance wuz\ndish yer: Eve'y gent wer ter have th'ee licks at de rock, en de\ngent w'at fetch de dus' he were de one w'at gwineter take de pick\ner de gals. Ole Brer Fox, he grab de sludge-hammer, he did, en he\ncome down on de rock--blim! No dus' ain't come. Den he draw back\nen down he come ag'in--blam! No dus' ain't come. Den he spit in\nhis han's, en give 'er a big swing en down she come--kerblap! En\nyit no dus' ain't flew'd.\n\n\"Den Brer Possum he make triul, en Brer Coon, en all de balance\nun um 'cep' Brer Tarrypin, en he 'low dat he got a crick in his\nneck. Den Brer Rabbit, he grab holt er de sludge, en he lipt up\nin de a'r en come down on de rock all at de same time--pow!--en\nde ashes, dey flew'd up so, dey did, dat Brer Fox, he tuck'n had\na sneezin' spell, en Miss Meadows en de gals dey up'n koff. Th'ee\ntimes Brer Rabbit jump up en crack his heels tergedder en come\ndown wid de sludge-hammer--ker-blam!--en eve'y time he jump up,\nhe holler out:\n\n\"'Stan' fudder, ladies! Yer come de dus'!' en sho nuff, de dus'\ncome.\n\n\"Leas'ways,\" continued Uncle Remus, \"Brer Rabbit got one er de\ngals, en dey had a weddin' en a big infa'r.\"\n\n\"Which of the girls did the Rabbit marry?\" asked the little boy,\ndubiously.\n\n\"I did year tell un 'er name,\" replied the old man, with a great\naffectation of interest, \"but look like I done gone en fergit it\nout'n my mine. Ef I don't disremember,\" he continued, \"hit wuz\nMiss Molly Cottontail, en I speck we better let it go at dat.\"\n\n\nXXXI. A PLANTATION WITCH\n\nThe next time the little boy got permission to call upon Uncle\nRemus, the old man was sitting in his door, with his elbows on\nhis knees and his face buried in his hands, and he appeared to be\nin great trouble. \"What's the matter, Uncle Remus?\" the youngster\nasked. \"Nuff de matter, honey--mo' dan dey's enny kyo' fer. Ef\ndey ain't some quare gwines on 'roun' dis place I ain't name\nRemus.\"\n\nThe serious tone of the old man caused the little boy to open\nhis eyes. The moon, just at its full, cast long, vague, wavering\nshadows in front of the cabin. A colony of tree-frogs somewhere\nin the distance were treating their neighbors to a serenade, but\nto the little boy it sounded like a chorus of lost and long-\nforgotten whistlers. The sound was wherever the imagination\nchose to locate it--to the right, to the left, in the air, on\nthe ground, far away or near at hand, but always dim and always\nindistinct. Something in Uncle Remus's tone exactly fitted all\nthese surroundings, and the child nestled closer to the old man.\n\n\"Yasser,\" continued Uncle Remus, with an ominous sigh and\nmysterious shake of the head, \"ef dey ain't some quare gwines on\nin dish yer naberhood, den I'm de ball-headest creetur 'twix' dis\nen nex' Jinawerry wuz a year 'go, w'ich I knows I ain't. Dat's\nwhat.\"\n\n\"What is it, Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"I know Mars John bin drivin' Cholly sorter hard ter-day, en I\nsay ter myse'f dat I'd drap 'round 'bout dus' en fling nudder\nyear er corn in de troff en kinder gin 'im a techin' up wid de\nkurrier-koam; en bless grashus! I ain't bin in de lot mo'n a\nminnit 'fo' I seed sump'n wuz wrong wid de hoss, and sho' nuff\ndar wuz his mane full er witch-stirrups.\"\n\n\"Full of what, Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"Full er witch-stirrups, honey. Ain't you seed no witch-stirrups?\nWell, w'en you see two stran' er ha'r tied tergedder in a hoss's\nmane, dar you see a witch-stirrup, en, mo'n dat, dat hoss done\nbin rid by um.\"\n\n\"Do you reckon they have been riding Charley?\" inquired the\nlittle boy.\n\n\"Co'se, honey. Tooby sho dey is. W'at else dey bin doin'?\"\n\n\"Did you ever see a witch, Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"Dat ain't needer yer ner dar. W'en I see coon track in de\nbranch, I know de coon bin 'long dar.\"\n\nThe argument seemed unanswerable, and the little boy asked, in a\nconfidential tone:\n\n\"Uncle Remus, what are witches like?\"\n\n\"Dey comes diffunt,\" responded the cautious old darkey. \"Dey\ncomes en dey cunjus fokes. Squinch-owl holler eve'y time he\nsee a witch, en w'en you hear de dog howlin' in de middle er de\nnight, one un um's mighty ap' ter be prowlin' 'roun'. Cunjun\nfokes kin tell a witch de minnit dey lays der eyes on it, but dem\nw'at ain't cunjun, hit's mighty hard ter tell w'en dey see one,\nkaze dey might come in de 'pearunce un a cow en all kinder\ncreeturs. I ain't bin useter no cunjun myse'f, but I bin livin'\nlong nuff fer ter know w'en you meets up wid a big black cat in\nde middle er de road, wid yaller eyeballs, dar's yo' witch fresh\nfum de Ole Boy. En, fuddermo', I know dat 'tain't proned inter no\ndogs fer ter ketch de rabbit w'at use in a berryin'-groun'. Dey\ner de mos' ongodlies' creeturs w'at you ever laid eyes on,\"\ncontinued Uncle Remus, with unction. \"Down dar in Putmon County\nyo' Unk Jeems, he make like he gwineter ketch wunner dem dar\ngraveyard rabbits. Sho nuff, out he goes, en de dogs ain't no\nmo'n got ter de place fo' up jump de old rabbit right 'mong um,\nen atter runnin''roun' a time or two, she skip right up ter Mars\nJeems, en Mars Jeems, he des put de gun-bar'l right on 'er en\nlammed aloose. Hit tored up de groun' all 'roun', en de dogs, dey\nrush up, but dey wa'n't no rabbit dar; but bimeby Mars Jeems, he\nseed de dogs tuckin' der tails 'tween der legs, en he look up, en\ndar wuz de rabbit caperin' 'roun' on a toom stone, en wid dat\nMars Jeems say he sorter feel like de time done come w'en yo'\ngran'ma was 'specktin' un him home, en he call off de dogs en put\nout. But dem wuz ha'nts. Witches is deze yer kinder fokes w'at\nkin drap der body en change inter a cat en a wolf en all kinder\ncreeturs.\"\n\n\"Papa says there ain't any witches,\" the little boy interrupted.\n\n\"Mars John ain't live long ez I is,\" said Uncle Remus, by way of\ncomment. \"He ain't bin broozin' roun' all hours er de night en\nday. I know'd a nigger w'ich his brer wuz a witch, kaze he up'n\ntole me how he tuck'n kyo'd 'im; en he kyo'd 'im good, mon.\"\n\n\"How was that?\" inquired the little boy.\n\n\"Hit seem like,\" continued Uncle Remus, \"dat witch fokes is got a\nslit in de back er de neck, en w'en dey wanter change derse'f,\ndey des pull de hide over der head same ez if 'twuz a shut, en\ndar dey is.\"\n\n\"Do they get out of their skins?\" asked the little boy, in an\nawed tone.\n\n\"Tooby sho, honey. You see yo' pa pull his shut off? Well, dat\ndes 'zackly de way dey duz. But dish yere nigger w'at I'm tellin'\nyou 'bout, he kyo'd his brer de ve'y fus pass he made at him. Hit\ngot so dat fokes in de settlement didn't have no peace. De\nchilluns 'ud wake up in de mawnins wid der ha'r tangle up, en wid\nscratches on um like dey bin thoo a brier-patch, twel bimeby one\nday de nigger he 'low dat he'd set up dat night en keep one eye\non his brer; en sho' nuff dat night, des ez de chickens wuz\ncrowin' fer twelve, up jump de brer and pull off his skin en sail\nout'n de house in de shape un a bat, en w'at duz de nigger do but\ngrab up de hide, and turn it wrong-sudout'ards en sprinkle it wid\nsalt. Den he lay down en watch fer ter see w'at de news wuz\ngwineter be. Des 'fo' day yer come a big black cat in de do', en\nde nigger git up, he did, en druv her away. Bimeby, yer come a\nbig black dog snuffin' roun', en de nigger up wid a chunk en\nlammed 'im side er de head. Den a squinch-owl lit on de koam er\nde house, en de nigger jam de shovel in de fier en make 'im flew\naway. Las', yer come a great big black wolf wid his eyes shinin'\nlike fier coals, en he grab de hide and rush out. 'Twa'n't long\n'fo' de nigger year his brer holler'n en squallin', en he tuck a\nlight, he did, en went out, en dar wuz his brer des a waller'n on\nde groun' en squirmin' 'roun', kaze de salt on de skin wuz\nstingin' wuss'n ef he had his britches lineded wid yallerjackets.\nBy nex' mawnin' he got so he could sorter shuffle long, but he\ngun up cunjun, en ef dere wuz enny mo' witches in dat settlement\ndey kep' mighty close, en dat nigger he ain't skunt hisse'f no\nmo' not endurin' er my 'membunce.\"\n\nThe result of this was that Uncle Remus had to take the little\nboy by the hand and go with him to the \"big house,\" which the old\nman was not loath to do; and, when the child went to bed, he lay\nawake a long time expecting an unseemly visitation from some\nmysterious source. It soothed him, however, to hear the strong,\nmusical voice of his sable patron, not very far away, tenderly\ncontending with a lusty tune; and to this accompaniment the\nlittle boy dropped asleep:\n\n\"Hit's eighteen hunder'd, forty-en-eight,\nChrist done made dat crooked way straight--\nEn I don't wanter stay here no longer;\nHit's eighteen hunder'd, forty-en-nine,\nChrist done turn dat water inter wine--\nEn I don't wanter stay here no longer.\"\n\n\nXXXII. \"JACKY-MY-LANTERN\" *1\n\nUPON his next visit to Uncle Remus, the little boy was\nexceedingly anxious to know more about witches, but the old man\nprudently refrained from exciting the youngster's imagination any\nfurther in that direction. Uncle Remus had a board across his\nlap, and, armed with a mallet and a shoe-knife, was engaged in\nmaking shoe-pegs.\n\n\"W'iles I wuz crossin' de branch des now,\" he said, endeavoring\nto change the subject, \"I come up wid a Jacky-my-lantern, en she\nwuz bu'nin' wuss'n a bunch er lightnin'-bugs, mon. I know'd she\nwuz a fixin' fer ter lead me inter dat quogmire down in de swamp,\nen I steer'd cle'r an' er. Yasser. I did dat. You ain't never\nseed no Jacky-my-lanterns, is you, honey?\"\n\nThe little boy never had, but he had heard of them, and he wanted\nto know what they were, and thereupon Uncle Remus proceeded to\ntell him.\n\n\"One time,\" said the old darkey, transferring his spectacles from\nhis nose to the top of his head and leaning his elbows upon his\npeg-board, \"dere wuz a blacksmif man, en dish yer blacksmif man,\nhe tuck'n stuck closer by his dram dan he did by his bellus.\nMonday mawnin' he'd git on a spree, en all dat week he'd be on a\nspree, en de nex' Monday mawnin' he'd take a fresh start. Bimeby,\none day, atter de blacksmif bin spreein''roun' en cussin'\nmight'ly, he hear a sorter rustlin' fuss at de do', en in walk de\nBad Man.\"\n\n\"Who, Uncle Remus?\" the little boy asked.\n\n\"De Bad Man, honey; de Ole Boy hisse'f right fresh from de ridjun\nw'at you year Miss Sally readin' 'bout. He done hide his hawns,\nen his tail, en his hoof, en he come dress up like w'ite fokes.\nHe tuck off his hat en he bow, en den he tell de blacksmif who he\nis, en dat he done come atter 'im. Den de black-smif, he gun ter\ncry en beg, en he beg so hard en he cry so loud dat de Bad Man\nsay he make a trade wid 'im. At de een' er one year de sperit er\nde blacksmif wuz to be his'n en endurin' er dat time de blacksmif\nmus' put in his hottes' licks in de intruss er de Bad Man, en den\nhe put a spell on de cheer de blacksmif was settin' in, en on his\nsludge-hammer. De man w'at sot in de cheer couldn't git up less'n\nde blacksmif let 'im, en de man w'at pick up de sludge 'ud hatter\nkeep on knockin' wid it twel de blacksmif say quit; en den he gun\n'im money plenty, en off he put.\n\n\"De blacksmif, he sail in fer ter have his fun, en he have so\nmuch dat he done clean forgot 'bout his contrack, but bimeby, one\nday he look down de road, en dar he see de Bad Man comin', en den\nhe know'd de year wuz out. W'en de Bad Man got in de do', de\nblacksmif wuz poundin' 'way at a hoss-shoe, but he wa'n't so\nbizzy dat he didn't ax 'im in. De Bad Man sorter do like he ain't\ngot no time fer ter tarry, but de blacksmif say he got some\nlittle jobs dat he bleedzd ter finish up, en den he ax de Bad Man\nfer ter set down a minnit; en de Bad Man, he tuck'n sot down,  en\nhe sot in dat cheer w'at he done conju'd en, co'se, dar he wuz.\nDen de blacksmif, he 'gun ter poke fun at de Bad Man, en he ax\nhim don't he want a dram, en won't he hitch his cheer up little\nnigher de fier, en de Bad Man, he beg en he beg, but 'twan't\ndoin' no good, kase de blacksmif 'low dat he gwineter keep 'im\ndar twel he prommus dat he let 'im off one year mo', en, sho\nnuff, de Bad Man prommus dat ef de black-smif let 'im up he give\n'im a n'er showin'. So den de blacksmif gun de wud, en de Bad Man\nsa'nter off down de big road, settin' traps en layin' his\nprogance fer ter ketch mo' sinners.\n\n\"De nex' year hit pass same like t'er one. At de 'p'inted time\nyer come de Ole Boy atter de blacksmif, but still de blacksmif\nhad some jobs dat he bleedzd ter finish up, en he ax de Bad Man\nfer ter take holt er de sludge en he he'p 'im out; en de Bad Man,\nhe 'low dat r'er'n be disperlite, he don't keer ef he do hit 'er\na biff er two; en wid dat he grab up de sludge, en dar he wuz\n'gin, kase he done conju'd de sludge so dat whosomedever tuck 'er\nup can't put 'er down less'n de blacksmif say de wud. Dey\nperlaver'd dar, dey did, twel bimeby de Bad Man he up'n let 'im\noff n'er year.\n\n\"Well, den, dat year pass same ez t'er one. Mont' in en mont' out\ndat man wuz rollin' in dram, en bimeby yer come de Bad Man. De\nblacksmif cry en he holler, en he rip 'roun' en t'ar his ha'r,\nbut hit des like he didn't, kase de Bad Man grab 'im up en cram\n'im in a bag en tote 'im off. W'iles dey wuz gwine 'long dey come\nup wid a passel er fokes w'at wuz havin' wanner deze yer fote er\nJuly bobbycues, en de Ole Boy, he 'low dat maybe he kin git some\nmo' game, en w'at do he do but jine in wid um. He lines in en he\ntalk politics same like t'er fokes, twel bimeby dinnertime come\n'roun', en dey ax 'im up, w'ich 'greed wid his stummuck, en he\npozzit his bag underneed de table 'longside de udder bags w'at de\nhongry fokes'd brung.\n\n\"No sooner did de blacksmif git back on de groun' dan he 'gun ter\nwuk his way outer de bag. He crope out, he did, en den he tuck'n\nchange de bag. He tuck'n tuck a n'er bag en lay it down whar dish\nyer bag wuz, en den he crope outer de crowd en lay low in de\nunderbresh.\n\n\"Las', w'en de time come fer ter go, de Ole Boy up wid his bag en\nslung her on his shoulder, en off he put fer de Bad Place. W'en\nhe got dar he tuck'n drap de bag off'n his back en call up de\nimps, en dey des come a squallin' en a caperin', w'ich I speck\ndey mus' a bin hongry. Leas'ways dey des swawm'd 'roun',\nhollerin' out:\n\n\"'Daddy, w'at you brung--daddy, w'at you brung?'\n\n\"So den dey open de bag, en lo en behol's, out jump a big bull-\ndog, en de way he shuck dem little imps wuz a caution, en he kep'\non gnyawin' un um twel de Ole Boy open de gate en t'un 'im out.\"\n\n\"And what became of the blacksmith?\" the little boy asked, as\nUncle Remus paused to snuff the candle with his fingers.\n\n\"I'm drivin' on 'roun', honey. Atter 'long time, de blacksmif he\ntuck'n die, en w'en he go ter de Good Place de man at de gate\ndunner who he is, en he can't squeeze in. Den he go down ter de\nBad Place, en knock. De Ole Boy, he look out, he did, en he\nknow'd de blacksmif de minnit he laid eyes on 'im; but he shake\nhis head en say, sezee:\n\n\"'You'll hatter skuze me, Brer Blacksmif, kase I dun had\n'speunce 'longer you. You'll hatter go some'rs else ef you wanter\nraise enny racket,' sezee, en wid dat he shet do do'.\n\n\"En dey do say,\" continued Uncle Remus, with unction, \"dat\nsense dat day de blacksmif bin sorter huv'rin' 'roun' 'twix' de\nheavens en de ye'th, en dark nights he shine out so fokes call\n'im Jacky-my-lantern. Dat's w'at dey tells me. Hit may be wrong\ner't maybe right, but dat's w'at I years.\"\n\n*1 This story is popular on the coast and among the rice-\n   plantations, and, since the publication of some of the\n   animal-myths in the newspapers, I have received a version\n   of it from a planter in southwest Georgia; but it seems to\n   me to be an intruder among the genuine myth-stories of the\n   negroes. It is a trifle too elaborate. Nevertheless, it is\n   told upon the plantations with great gusto, and there are\n   several versions in circulation.\n\n\nXXXIII.  WHY THE NEGRO IS BLACK\n\nONE night, while the little boy was watching Uncle Remus\ntwisting and waxing some shoe-thread, he made what appeared to\nhim to be a very curious discovery. He discovered that the palms\nof the old man's hands were as white as his own, and the fact was\nsuch a source of wonder that he at last made it the subject of\nremark. The response of Uncle Remus led to the earnest recital of\na piece of unwritten history that must prove interesting to\nethnologists.\n\n\"Tooby sho de pa'm er my han's w'ite, honey,\" he quietly\nremarked, \"en, w'en it come ter dat, dey wuz a time w'en all de\nw'ite folks 'uz black--blacker dan me, kaze I done bin yer so\nlong dat I bin sorter bleach out.\"\n\nThe little boy laughed. He thought Uncle Remus was making him\nthe victim of one of his jokes; but the youngster was never more\nmistaken. The old man was serious. Nevertheless, he failed to\nrebuke the ill-timed mirth of the child, appearing to be\naltogether engrossed in his work. After a while, he resumed:\n\n\"Yasser. Fokes dunner w'at bin yit, let 'lone w'at  gwinter be.\nNiggers is niggers now, but de time wuz w'en we 'uz all niggers\ntergedder.\"\n\n\"When was that, Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"Way back yander. In dem times we 'uz all un us black; we 'uz all\nniggers tergedder, en 'cordin' ter all de 'counts w'at I years\nfokes 'uz gittin' 'long 'bout ez well in dem days ez dey is now.\nBut atter 'w'ile de news come dat dere wuz a pon' er water\nsome'rs in de naberhood, w'ich ef dey'd git inter dey'd be wash\noff nice en w'ite, en den one un um, he fine de place en make er\nsplunge inter de pon', en come out w'ite ez a town gal. En den,\nbless grashus! w'en de fokes seed it, dey make a break fer de\npon', en dem w'at wuz de soopless, dey got in fus' en dey come\nout w'ite; en dem w'at wuz de nex' soopless, dey got in nex', en\ndey come out merlatters; en dey wuz sech a crowd un um dat dey\nmighty nigh use de water up, w'ich w'en dem yuthers come long, de\nmorest dey could do wuz ter paddle about wid der foots en dabble\nin it wid der han's. Dem wuz de niggers, en down ter dis day dey\nain't no w'ite 'bout a nigger 'ceppin de pa'ms er der han's en de\nsoles er der foot.\"\n\nThe little boy seemed to be very much interested in this new\naccount of the origin of races, and he made some further\ninquiries, which elicited from Uncle Remus the following\nadditional particulars:\n\n\"De Injun en de Chinee got ter be 'counted 'long er de merlatter.\nI ain't seed no Chinee dat I knows un, but dey tells me dey er\nsorter 'twix' a brown en a brindle. Dey er all merlatters.\"\n\n\"But mamma says the Chinese have straight hair,\" the little boy\nsuggested.\n\n\"Co'se, honey,\" the old man unhesitatingly responded, \"dem\nw'at git ter de pon' time nuff fer ter git der head in de water,\nde water hit onkink der ha'r. Hit bleedzd ter be dat away.\"\n\n\nXXXIV.  THE SAD FATE OF MR. FOX\n\n\"Now, den,\" said Uncle Remus, with unusual gravity, as soon as\nthe little boy, by taking his seat, announced that he was ready\nfor the evening's entertainment to begin; \"now, den, dish yer\ntale w'at I'm agwine ter gin you is de las' row er stumps, sho.\nDish yer's whar ole Brer Fox los' his breff, en he ain't fine it\nno mo' down ter dis day.\"\n\n\"Did he kill himself, Uncle Remus?\" the little boy asked, with a\ncurious air of concern.\n\n\"Hol' on dar, honey!\" the old man exclaimed, with a great\naffectation of alarm; \"hol' on dar! Wait! Gimme room! I don't\nwanter tell you no story, en ef you keep shovin' me forrerd, I\nmout git some er de facks mix up 'mong deyse'f. You gotter gimme\nroom en you gotter gimme time.\"\n\nThe little boy had no other premature questions to ask, and,\nafter a pause, Uncle Remus resumed:\n\n\"Well, den, one day Brer Rabbit go ter Brer Fox house, he did, en\nhe put up mighty po' mouf. He say his ole 'oman sick, en his\nchilluns col', en de fier done gone out. Brer Fox, he feel bad\n'bout dis, en he tuck'n s'ply Brer Rabbit widder chunk er fier.\nBrer Rabbit see Brer Fox cookin' some nice beef, en his mouf gun\nter water, but he take de fier, he did, en he put out to'rds\nhome; but present'y yer he come back, en he say de fier done gone\nout. Brer Fox 'low dat he want er invite to dinner, but he don't\nsay nuthin', en bimeby Brer Rabbit he up'n say, sezee:\n\n\"'Brer Fox, whar you git so much nice beef?' sezee, en den Brer\nFox he up'n 'spon', sezee:\n\n\"'You come ter my house termorrer ef yo' fokes ain't too sick, en\nI kin show you whar you kin git plenty beef mo' nicer dan dish\nyer,' sezee.\n\n\"Well, sho nuff, de nex' day fotch Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox say,\nsezee:\n\n\"'Der's a man down yander by Miss Meadows's w'at got heap er fine\ncattle, en he gotter cow name Bookay,' sezee, 'en you des go en\nsay Bookay, en she'll open her mouf, en you kin jump in en git\ndes as much meat ez you kin tote,' sez Brer Fox, sezee.\n\n\"'Well, I'll go 'long,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en you kin jump\nfus' en den I'll come follerin' atter,' sezee.\n\n\"Wid dat dey put out, en dey went promernadin' 'roun' 'mong de\ncattle, dey did, twel bimeby dey struck up wid de one dey wuz\natter. Brer Fox, he up, he did, en holler Bookay, en de cow flung\n'er mouf wide open. Sho nuff, in dey jump, en w'en dey got dar,\nBrer Fox, he say, sezee:\n\n\"'You kin cut mos' ennywheres, Brer Rabbit, but don't cut 'roun'\nde haslett,' sezee.\n\n\"'Den Brer Rabbit, he holler back, he did: I'm a gitten me out a\nroas'n-piece,' sezee.\n\n\"'Roas'n, er bakin', er fryin',' sez Brer Fox, sezee, 'don't git\ntoo nigh de haslett,' sezee.\n\n\"Dey cut en dey kyarved, en dey kyarved en dey cut, en w'iles dey\nwuz cuttin' en kyarvin', en slashin' 'way, Brer Rabbit, he tuck'n\nhacked inter de haslett, en wid dat down fell de cow dead.\n\n\"'Now, den,' sez Brer Fox, 'we er gone, sho,' sezee.\n\n\"'W'at we gwine do?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.\n\n\"'I'll git in de maul,' sez Brer Fox, 'en you'll jump in de\ngall,' sezee.\n\n\"Nex' mawnin' yer cum de man w'at de cow b'long ter, and he ax\nwho kill Bookay. Nobody don't say nuthin'. Den de man say he'll\ncut 'er open en see, en den he whirl in, en twan't no time 'fo'\nhe had 'er intruls spread out. Brer Rabbit, he crope out'n de\ngall, en say, sezee:\n\n\"'Mister Man! Oh, Mister Man! I'll tell you who kill yo' cow. You\nlook in de maul, en dar you'll fine 'im,' sezee.\n\n\"Wid dat de man tuck a stick and lam down on de maul so hard dat\nhe kill Brer Fox stone-dead. W'en Brer Rabbit see Brer Fox wuz\nlaid out fer good, he make like he mighty sorry, en he up'n ax de\nman fer Brer Fox head. Man say he ain't keerin', en den Brer\nRabbit tuck'n brung it ter Brer Fox house. Dar he see ole Miss\nFox, en he tell 'er dat he done fotch her some nice beef w'at 'er\nole man sont 'er, but she ain't gotter look at it twel she go ter\neat it.\n\n\"Brer Fox son wuz name Tobe, en Brer Rabbit tell Tobe fer ter\nkeep still w'iles his mammy cook de nice beef w'at his daddy sont\n'im. Tobe he wuz mighty hongry, en he look in de pot he did\nw'iles de cookin' wuz gwine on, en dar he see his daddy head, en\nwid dat he sot up a howl en tole his mammy. Miss Fox, she git\nmighty mad w'en she fine she cookin' her ole man head, en she\ncall up de dogs, she did, en sickt em on Brer Rabbit; en ole Miss\nFox en Tobe en de dogs, dey push Brer Rabbit so close dat he\nhatter take a holler tree. Miss Fox, she tell Tobe fer ter stay\ndar en mine Brer Rabbit, w'ile she goes en git de ax, en w'en she\ngone, Brer Rabbit, he tole Tobe ef he go ter de branch en git 'im\na drink er water dat he'll gin 'im a dollar. Tobe, he put out, he\ndid, en bring some water in his hat, but by de time he got back\nBrer Rabbit done out en gone. Ole Miss Fox, she cut and cut twel\ndown come de tree, but no Brer Rabbit dar. Den she lay de blame\non Tobe, en she say she gwineter lash 'im, en Tobe, he put out en\nrun, de ole 'oman atter 'im. Bimeby, he come up wid Brer Rabbit,\nen sot down fer to tell 'im how 'twuz, en w'iles dey wuz a\nsettin' dar, yer come ole Miss Fox a slippin' up en grab um bofe.\nDen she tell um w'at she gwine do. Brer Rabbit she gwineter kill,\nen Tobe she gwineter lam ef its de las' ack. Den Brer Rabbit sez,\nsezee:\n\n\"'Ef you please, ma'am, Miss Fox, lay me on de grinestone en\ngroun off my nose so I can't smell no mo' w'en I'm dead.'\n\n\"Miss Fox, she tuck dis ter be a good idee, en she fotch bofe un\num ter de grinestone, en set um up on  it so dat she could\ngroun' off Brer Rabbit nose. Den Brer Rabbit, he up'n say, sezee:\n\n\"'Ef you please, ma'am, Miss Fox, Tobe he kin turn de handle\nw'iles you goes atter some water fer ter wet de grinestone,'\nsezee.\n\n\"Co'se, soon'z Brer Rabbit see Miss Fox go atter de water, he\njump down en put out, en dis time he git clean away.\"\n\n\"And was that the last of the Rabbit, too, Uncle Remus?\" the\nlittle boy asked, with something like a sigh.\n\n\"Don't push me too close, honey,\" responded the old man; \"don't\nshove me up in no cornder. I don't wanter tell you no stories.\nSome say dat Brer Rabbit's ole 'oman died fum eatin' some pizen-\nweed, en dat Brer Rabbit married ole Miss Fox, en some say not.\nSome tells one tale en some tells nudder; some say dat fum dat\ntime forrerd de Rabbits en de Foxes make fren's en stay so; some\nsay dey kep on quollin'. Hit look like it mixt. Let dem tell you\nw'at knows. Dat w'at I years you gits it straight like I yeard\nit.\"\n\nThere was a long pause, which was finally broken by the old man:\n\n\"Hit's 'gin de rules fer you ter be noddin' yer, honey. Bimeby\nyou'll drap off en I'll hatter tote you up ter de big 'ouse. I\nhear dat baby cryin', en bimeby Miss Sally'll fly up en be a\nholler'n atter you\"\n\n\"Oh, I wasn't asleep,\" the little boy replied. \"I was just\nthinking.\"\n\n\"Well, dat's diffunt,\" said the old man. \"Ef you'll clime up on\nmy back,\" he continued, speaking softly, \"I speck I ain't too ole\nfer ter be yo' hoss fum yer ter de house. Many en many's de time\ndat I toted yo' Unk Jeems dat away, en Mars Jeems wuz heavier sot\ndan w'at you is.\"\n\n\n\nPLANTATION PROVERBS\n\nBIG 'possum clime little tree.\nDem w'at eats kin say grace.\nOle man Know-All died las' year.\nBetter de gravy dan no grease 'tall.\nDram ain't good twel you git it.\nLazy fokes' stummucks don't git tired.\nRheumatiz don't he'p at de log-rollin'.\nMole don't see w'at his naber doin'.\nSave de pacin' mar' fer Sunday.\nDon't rain eve'y time de pig squeal.\nCrow en corn can't grow in de same fiel'.\nTattlin' 'oman can't make de bread rise.\nRails split 'fo' bre'kfus'll season de dinner.\nDem w'at knows too much sleeps under de ash-hopper.\nEf you wanter see yo' own sins, clean up a new groun'.\nHog dunner w'ich part un 'im'll season de turnip salad.\nHit's a blessin' de w'ite sow don't shake de plum-tree.\nWinter grape sour, whedder you kin reach 'im or not.\nMighty po' bee dat don't make mo' honey dan he want.\nKwishins on mule's foots done gone out er fashun.\nPigs dunno w'at a pen's fer.\nPossum's tail good as a paw.\nDogs don't bite at de front gate.\nColt in de barley-patch kick high.\nJay-bird don't rob his own nes'.\nPullet can't roost too high for de owl.\nMeat fried 'fo' day won't las' twel night.\nStump water won't kyo' de gripes.\nDe howlin' dog know w'at he sees.\nBlin' hoss don't fall w'en he follers de bit.\nHongry nigger won't w'ar his maul out.\nDon't fling away de empty wallet.\nBlack-snake know de way ter de hin nes'.\nLooks won't do ter split rails wid.\nSettin' hens don't hanker arter fresh aigs.\nTater-vine growin' w'ile you sleep.\nHit take two birds fer to make a nes'.\nEf you bleedzd ter eat dirt, eat clean dirt.\nTarrypin walk fast 'nuff fer to go visitin'.\nEmpty smoke-house makes de pullet holler.\nW'en coon take water he fixin' fer ter fight.\nCorn makes mo' at de mill dan it does in de crib.\nGood luck say: \"Op'n yo' mouf en shet yo' eyes.\"\nNigger dat gets hurt wukkin oughter show de skyars.\nFiddlin' nigger say hit's long ways ter de dance.\nRooster makes mo' racket dan de hin w'at lay de aig.\nMeller mush-million hollers at you fum over de fence.\nNigger wid a pocket-hankcher better be looked atter.\nRain-crow don't sing no chune, but you k'n 'pen' on 'im.\nOne-eyed mule can't be handled on de bline side.\nMoon may shine, but a lightered knot's mighty handy.\nLicker talks mighty loud w'en it git loose fum de jug.\nDe proudness un a man don't count w'en his head's cold.\nHongry rooster don't cackle w'en he fine a wum.\nSome niggers mighty smart, but dey can't drive de pidgins ter\n     roos'.\nYou may know de way, but better keep yo' eyes on de seven stairs.\nAll de buzzards in de settlement 'll come to de gray mule's\n     funer'l.\nYou k'n hide de fier, but w'at you gwine do wid de smoke?\nTermorrow may be de carridge-driver's day for ploughin'.\nHit's a mighty deaf nigger dat don't year de dinner-ho'n.\nHit takes a bee fer ter git de sweetness out'n de hoar-houn'\n     blossom.\nHa'nts don't bodder longer hones' folks, but you better go 'roun'\n     de grave-yard.\nDe pig dat runs off wid de year er corn gits little mo' dan\n     de cob.\nSleepin' in de fence-cornder don't fetch Chrismus in de kitchen.\nDe spring-house may freeze, but de niggers 'll keep de shuck-pen\n     warm.\n'Twix' de bug en de bee-martin 'tain't hard ter tell w'ich\n     gwineter git kotch.\nDon't 'sput wid de squinch-owl. Jam de shovel in de fier.\nYou'd see mo' er de mink ef he know'd whar de yard dog sleeps.\nTroubles is seasonin'.\n'Simmons ain't good twel dey 'er fros'-bit.\nWatch out w'en you'er gittin all you want. Fattenin' hogs ain't\n     in luck.\n\n\n\nHIS SONGS\n\n\nI. REVIVAL HYMN\n\nOH, whar shill we go w'en de great day comes,\nWid de blowin' er de trumpits en de bangin' er de drums?\nHow many po' sinners'll be kotched out late\nEn fin' no latch ter de golden gate?\nNo use fer ter wait twel termorrer!\nDe sun mus'n't set on yo' sorrer,\nSin's ez sharp ez a bamboo-brier-\nOh, Lord! fetch de mo'ners up higher!\n\nW'en de nashuns er de earf is a stan'in all aroun,\nWho's a gwineter be choosen fer ter w'ar de glory-crown?\nWho's a gwine fer ter stan' stiff-kneed en bol'.\nEn answer to der name at de callin' er de roll?\nYou better come now ef you comin'--\nOle Satun is loose en a bummin'--\nDe wheels er distruckshun is a hummin'--\nOh, come long, sinner, ef you comin'!\n\nDe song er salvashun is a mighty sweet song,\nEn de Pairidise win' blow fur en blow strong,\nEn Aberham's bosom, hit's saft en hit's wide,\nEn right dar's de place whar de sinners oughter hide!\nOh, you nee'nter be a stoppin' en a lookin';\nEf you fool wid ole Satun you'll git took in;\nYou'll hang on de aidge en get shook in,\nEf you keep on a stoppin' en a lookin'.\n\nDe time is right now, en dish yer's de place--\nLet de sun er salvashun shine squar' in yo' face;\nFight de battles er de Lord, fight soon en fight late,\nEn you'll allers fine a latch ter de golden gate.\nNo use fer ter wait twel termorrer,\nDe sun musn't set on yo' sorrer--\nSin's ez sharp ez a bamboo-brier,\nAx de Lord fer ter fetch you up higher!\n\n\nII. CAMP-MEETING SONG *\n\nOH, de worril is roun' en de worril is wide--\nLord! 'member deze chillun in de mornin'--\n\nHit's a mighty long ways up de mountain side,\nEn dey ain't no place fer dem sinners fer ter hide,\nEn dey ain't no place whar sin kin abide,\nW'en de Lord shill come in de mornin'!\nLook up en look aroun',\nFling yo' burden on de groun',\nHit's a gittin' mighty close on ter mornin'!\nSmoove away sin's frown--\nRetch up en git de crown,\nW'at de Lord will fetch in de mornin'!\n\nDe han' er ridem'shun, hit's hilt out ter you--\nLord! 'member dem sinners in de mornin'!\nHit's a mighty pashent han', but de days is but few,\nW'en Satun, he'll come a demandin' un his due,\nEn de stiff-neck sinners 'll be smotin' all fru-\nOh, you better git ready for de mornin'!\nLook up en set yo' face\nTo'ds de green hills of grace\n'Fo' de sun rises up in de mornin'--\nOh, you better change yo' base,\nHits yo' soul's las' race\nFor de glory dat's a comin' in de mornin'!\n\nDe farmer gits ready w'en de lan's all plowed\nFor ter sow dem seeds in de mornin'\nDe sperrit may be puny en de flesh may be proud,\nBut you better cut loose fum de scoffin' crowd,\nEn jine dose Christuns w'at's a cryin' out loud\nFer de Lord fer ter come in de mornin'!\nShout loud en shout long,\nLet de eckoes ans'er strong,\nW'en de sun rises up in de mornin'!\nOh, you allers will be wrong\nTwel you choose ter belong\nTer de Marster w'at's a comin' in de mornin'!\n\n*In the days of slavery, the religious services held by the\n negroes who accompanied their owners to the camp-meetings\n were marvels of earnestness and devotion.\n\n\nIII. CORN-SHUCKING SONG\n\nOH, de fus' news you know de day'll be a breakin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango! *1)\nAn' de fier be a burnin' en' de ash-cake a bakin',\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nAn' de ho'n 'll be a hollerin' en de boss 'll be a wakin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nBetter git up, nigger, en give yo'se'f a shakin'--\n(Hi O, Miss Sindy Ann!)\n\nOh, honey! w'en you see dem ripe stars a fallin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nOh, honey! w'en you year de rain-crow a callin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nOh, honey! w'en you year dat red calf a bawlin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nDen de day time's a creepin' en a crawlin'--\n(Hi O, Miss Sindy Ann!)\n\nFor de los' ell en yard *2 is a huntin' for de mornin',\n(Hi O! git long! go 'way!)\nEn she'll ketch up wid dus 'fo' we ever git dis corn in--\n(Oh, go 'way, Sindy Ann!)\n\nOh, honey! w'en you year dat tin horn a tootin'\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nOh, honey, w'en you year de squinch owl a hootin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nOh, honey! w'en you year dem little pigs a rootin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nRight den she's a comin' a skippin' en a scootin'--\n(Hi O, Miss Sindy Ann!)\n\nOh, honey, w'en you year dat roan mule whicker--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nW'en you see Mister Moon turnin' pale en gittin' sicker--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nDen hit's time for ter handle dat corn a little quicker--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nEf you wanter git a smell er old Marster's jug er licker--\n(Hi O, Miss Sindy Ann!)\n\nFor de los' ell en yard is a huntin' for de mornin'\n(Hi O! git long! go 'way!)\nEn she'll ketch up wid dus 'fo' we ever git dis corn in--\n(Oh, go 'way, Sindy Ann!)\nYou niggers 'cross dar! you better stop your dancin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nNo use for ter come a flingin' un yo' \"sha'n'ts\" in--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nNo use for ter come a flingin' un yo' \"can't's\" in--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nKaze dey ain't no time for yo' pattin' nor yo' prancin'!\n(Hi O, Miss Sindy Ann!)\n\nMr. Rabbit see de Fox, en he sass um en jaws um--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nMr. Fox ketch de Rabbit, en he scratch um en he claws um--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nEn he tar off de hide, en he chaws um en he gnyaws um--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nSame like gal chawin' sweet gum en rozzum--\n(Hi O, Miss Sindy Ann!)\nFor de los' ell en yard is a huntin' for de mornin'\n(Hi O! git 'long! go 'way!)\nEn she'll ketch up wid dus 'fo' we ever git dis corn in--\n(Oh, go 'way, Sindy Ann!)\n\nOh, work on, boys! give doze shucks a mighty wringin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\n'Fo' de boss come aroun' a dangin' en a dingin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nGit up en move aroun'! set dem big han's ter swingin'--\n(Hey O! Hi O! Up'n down de Bango!)\nGit up'n shout loud! let de w'ite folks year you singin'!\n(Hi O, Miss Sindy Ann!)\n\nFor de los' ell en yard is a huntin' for de mornin'\n(Hi O! git long! go 'way!)\nEn she'll ketch up wid dus 'fo' we ever git dis corn in.\n(Oh, go 'way Sindy Ann!)\n\n*1 So far as I know, \"Bango\" is a meaningless term, introduced\n   on account of its sonorous ruggedness.\n*2 The sword and belt in the constellation of Orion.\n\n\nIV. THE PLOUGH-HANDS' SONG\n     (JASPER COUNTY--1860.)\n\nNIGGER mighty happy w'en he layin' by co'n--\nDat sun's a slantin';\nNigger mighty happy w'en he year de dinner-ho'n--\nDat sun's a slantin';\nEn he mo' happy still w'en de night draws on--\nDat sun's a slantin';\nDat sun's a slantin' des ez sho's you bo'n!\nEn it's rise up, Primus! fetch anudder yell:\nDat ole dun cow's des a shakin' up 'er bell,\nEn de frogs chunin' up 'fo' de jew done fell:\nGood-night, Mr. Killdee! I wish you mighty well!\n--Mr. Killdee! I wish you mighty well!\n--I wish you mighty well!\n\nDo co'n 'll be ready 'g'inst dumplin' day--\nDat sun's a slantin';\nBut nigger gotter watch, en stick, en stay--\nDat sun's a slantin';\nSame ez de bee-martin watchin' un de jay--\nDat sun's a slantin';\nDat sun's a slantin' en a slippin' away!\nDen it's rise up, Primus! en gin it turn strong;\nDe cow's gwine home wid der ding-dang-dong--\nSling in anudder tetch er de ole-time song:\nGood-night, Mr. Whipperwill! don't stay long!\n--Mr. Whipperwill! don't stay long!\n--Don't stay long!\n\n\nV. CHRISTMAS PLAY-SONG\n    (MYRICK PLACE, PUTNAM COUNTY 1858.)\n\nHi my rinktum! Black gal sweet,\nSame like goodies w'at de w'ite folks eat;\nHo my Riley! don't you take'n tell 'er name,\nEn den ef sumpin' happen you won't ketch de blame;\nHi my rinktum! better take'n hide yo' plum;\nJoree don't holler eve'y time he fine a wum.\nDen it's hi my rinktum!\nDon't git no udder man;\nEn it's ho my Riley!\nFetch out Miss Dilsey Ann!\n\nHo my Riley! Yaller gal fine;\nShe may be yone but she oughter be mine!\nHi my rinktum! Lemme git by,\nEn see w'at she mean by de cut er dat eye!\nHo my Riley! better shet dat do'--\nDe w'ite folks 'll bleeve we er t'arin up de flo'.\n\nDen it's ho my Riley!\nCome a siftin' up ter me!\nEn it's hi my rinktum!\nDis de way ter twis' yo' knee!\n\nHi my rinktum! Ain't de eas' gittin' red?\nDe squinch owl shiver like he wanter go ter bed;\nHo my Riley! but de gals en de boys,\nDes now gittin' so dey kin sorter make a noise.\nHi my rinktum! let de yaller gal lone;\nNiggers don't hanker arter sody in de pone.\nDen it's hi my rinktum!\nBetter try anudder plan;\nAn' it's ho my Riley!\nTrot out Miss Dilsey Ann!\n\nHo my Riley! In de happy Chris'mus time\nDe niggers shake der cloze a huntin' for a dime.\nHi my rinktum! En den dey shake der feet,\nEn greaze derse'f wid de good ham meat.\nHo my Riley! dey eat en dey cram,\nEn bimeby ole Miss 'll be a sendin' out de dram.\nDen it's ho my Riley!\nYou hear dat, Sam!\nEn it's hi my rinktum!\nBe a sendin' out de dram!\n\n\nVI. PLANTATION PLAY-SONG\n     (PUTNAM COUNTY--1856.)\n\nHIT'S a gittin' mighty late, w'en de Guinny-hins squall,\nEn you better dance now, ef you gwineter dance a tall,\nFer by dis time termorrer night you can't hardly crawl,\nKaze you'll hatter take de hoe ag'in en likewise de maul--\nDon't you hear dat bay colt a kickin' in his stall?\nStop yo' humpin' up yo' sho'lders  do!\nDat'll never do! Hop light, ladies,\nOh, Miss Loo!\nHit takes a heap er scrougin'\nFor ter git you thoo--\nHop light, ladies,\nOh, Miss Loo!\n\nEf you niggers don't watch, you'll sing anudder chune,\nFer de sun'll rise'n ketch you ef you don't be mighty soon;\nEn de stars is gittin' paler, en de ole gray coon\nIs a settin' in de grape-vine a watchin' fer de moon.\nW'en a feller comes a knockin'\nDes holler--Oh, shoo!\nHop light, ladies,\nOh, Miss Loo!\nOh, swing dat yaller gal!\nDo, boys, do!\nHop light, ladies,\nOh, Miss Loo!\n\nOh, tu'n me loose! Lemme 'lone! Go way, now!\nW'at you speck I come a dancin' fer ef I dunno how?\nDeze de ve'y kinder footses w'at kicks up a row;\nCan't you jump inter de middle en make yo' gal a bow?\nLook at dat merlatter man\nA follerin' up Sue;\nHop light, ladies,\nOh, Miss Loo!\nDe boys ain't a gwine\nW'en you cry boo hoo--\nHop light, ladies,\nOh, Miss Loo!\n\n\n\nVII. TRANSCRIPTIONS *1\n\n\n1. A PLANTATION CHANT\n\nHit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-fo',\nChrist done open dat He'v'mly do'--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer;\nHit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-five,\nChrist done made dat dead man alive--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.\nYou ax me ter run home,\nLittle childun--\nRun home, dat sun done roll--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.\n\nHit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-six,\nChrist is got us a place done fix--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer;\nHit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-sev'm\nChrist done sot a table in Hev'm\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.\nYou ax me ter run home,\nLittle childun--\nRun home, dat sun done roll--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.\n\nHit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-eight,\nChrist done make dat crooked way straight--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer;\nHit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-nine,\nChrist done tu'n dat water inter wine--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.\nYou ax me ter run home,\nLittle childun--\nRun home, dat sun done roll--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.\n\nHit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-ten,\nChrist is de mo'ner's onliest fr'en'--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer;\nHit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-lev'm,\nChrist 'll be at de do' w'en we all git ter Hev'm--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.\nYou ax me ter run home,\nLittle childun--\nRun home, dat sun done roll--\nAn' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.\n\n*1 If these are adaptations from songs the negroes have caught\n   from the whites, their origin is very remote. I have\n   transcribed them literally, and I regard them as in the\n   highest degree characteristic.\n\n\n2.A PLANTATION SERENADE\n\nDE ole bee make de honey-comb,\nDe young bee make de honey,\nDe niggers make de cotton en co'n,\nEn de w'ite folks gits de money.\n\nDe raccoon he's a cu'us man,\nHe never walk twel dark,\nEn nuthin' never 'sturbs his mine,\nTwel he hear ole Bringer bark.\n\nDe raccoon totes a bushy tail,\nDe 'possum totes no ha'r,\nMr. Rabbit, he come skippin' by,\nHe ain't got none ter spar'.\n\nMonday mornin' break er day,\nW'ite folks got me gwine,\nBut Sat'dy night, w'en de sun goes down,\nDat yaller gal's in my mine.\n\nFifteen poun' er meat a week,\nW'isky for ter sell,\nOh, how can a young man stay at home,\nDem gals dey look so well?\n\nMet a 'possum in de road--\nBre' 'Possum, whar you gwine?\nI thank my stars, I bless my life,\nI'm a huntin' for de muscadine.\n\n\nVIII. THE BIG BETHEL CHURCH\n\nDE Big Bethel chu'ch! de Big Bethel chu'ch!\nDone put ole Satun behine um;\nEf a sinner git loose fum enny udder chu'ch,\nDe Big Bethel chu'ch will fine um!\n\nHit's good ter be dere, en it's sweet ter be dere,\nWid de sisterin' all aroun' you--\nA shakin' dem shackles er mussy en' love\nWharwid de Lord is boun' you.\n\nHit's sweet ter be dere en lissen ter de hymns,\nEn hear dem mo'ners a shoutin'--\nDey done reach de place whar der ain't no room\nFer enny mo' weepin' en doubtin'.\n\nHit's good ter be dere w'en de sinners all jine\nWid de brudderin in dere singin',\nEn it look like Gaberl gwine ter rack up en blow\nEn set dem heav'm bells ter ringin'!\n\nOh, de Big Bethel chu'ch! de Big Bethel chu'ch,\nDone put ole Satun behine am;\nEf a sinner git loose fum enny udder chu'ch\nDe Big Bethel chu'ch will fine um!\n\n\nIX.  TIME GOES BY TURNS\n\nDAR'S a pow'ful rassle 'twix de Good en de Bad,\nEn de Bad's got de all--under holt;\nEn w'en de wuss come, she come i'on-clad,\nEn you hatter hol' yo' bref for de jolt.\n\nBut des todes de las' Good gits de knee-lock,\nEn dey draps ter de groun'--ker flop!\nGood had de inturn, en he stan' like a rock,\nEn he bleedzd for ter be on top.\n\nDe dry wedder breaks wid a big thunder-clap,\nFor dey ain't no drout' w'at kin las',\nBut de seasons w'at whoops up de cotton crap,\nLikewise dey freshens up de grass.\n\nDe rain fall so saf' in de long dark night,\nTwel you hatter hol' yo' han' for a sign,\nBut de drizzle w'at sets de tater-slips right\nIs de makin' er de May-pop vine.\n\nIn de mellerest groun' de clay root 'll ketch\nEn hol' ter de tongue er de plow,\nEn a pine-pole gate at de gyardin-patch\nNever 'll keep out de ole brindle cow.\n\nOne en all on us knows who's a pullin' at de bits\nLike de lead-mule dat g'ides by de rein,\nEn yit, somehow or nudder, de bestest un us gits\nMighty sick er de tuggin' at de chain.\n\nHump yo'se'f ter de load en fergit de distress,\nEn dem w'at stan's by ter scoff,\nFor de harder de pullin', de longer de res',\nEn de bigger de feed in de troff.\n\n\nA STORY OF THE WAR\n\nWHEN Miss Theodosia Huntingdon, of Burlington, Vermont, concluded\nto come South in 1870, she was moved by three considerations. In\nthe first place, her brother, John Huntingdon, had become a\ncitizen of Georgia--having astonished his acquaintances by\nmarrying a young lady, the male members of whose family had\nachieved considerable distinction in the Confederate army; in the\nsecond place, she was anxious to explore a region which she\nalmost unconsciously pictured to herself as remote and semi-\nbarbarous; and, in the third place, her friends had persuaded her\nthat to some extent she was an invalid. It was in vain that she\nargued with herself as to the propriety of undertaking the\njourney alone and unprotected, and she finally put an end to\ninward and outward doubts by informing herself and her friends,\nincluding John Huntingdon, her brother, who was practicing law in\nAtlanta, that she had decided to visit the South.\n\nWhen, therefore, on the 12th of October, 1870--the date is duly\nrecorded in one of Miss Theodosia's letters--she alighted from\nthe cars in Atlanta, in the midst of a great crowd, she fully\nexpected to find her brother waiting to receive her. The bells of\nseveral locomotives were ringing, a number of trains were moving\nin and out, and the porters and baggage-men were screaming and\nbawling to such an extent that for several moments Miss\nHuntingdon was considerably confused; so much so that she paused\nin the hope that her brother would suddenly appear and rescue her\nfrom the smoke, and dust, and din. At that moment some one\ntouched her on the arm, and she heard a strong, half-confident,\nhalf-apologetic voice exclaim:\n\n\"Ain't dish yer Miss Doshy?\"\n\nTurning, Miss Theodosia saw at her side a tall, gray-haired\nnegro. Elaborating the incident afterward to her friends, she was\npleased to say that the appearance of the old man was somewhat\npicturesque. He stood towering above her, his hat in one hand, a\ncarriage-whip in the other, and an expectant smile lighting up\nhis rugged face. She remembered a name her brother had often used\nin his letters, and, with a woman's tact, she held out her hand,\nand said:\n\n\"Is this Uncle Remus?\"\n\n\"Law, Miss Doshy! how you know de ole nigger? I know'd you by\nde faver; but how you know me?\" And then, without waiting for a\nreply: \"Miss Sally, she sick in bed, en Mars John, he bleedzd ter\ngo in de country, en dey tuck'n sont me. I know'd you de minnit I\nlaid eyes on you. Time I seed you, I say ter myse'f, 'I lay dar's\nMiss Doshy,' en, sho nuff, dar you wuz. You ain't gun up yo'\nchecks, is you? Kaze I'll git de trunk sont up by de 'spress\nwaggin.\"\n\nThe next moment Uncle Remus was elbowing his way unceremoniously\nthrough the crowd, and in a very short time, seated in the\ncarriage driven by the old man, Miss Huntingdon was whirling\nthrough the streets of Atlanta in the direction of her brother's\nhome. She took advantage of the opportunity to study the old\nnegro's face closely, her natural curiosity considerably\nsharpened by a knowledge of the fact that Uncle Remus had played\nan important part in her brother's history. The result of her\nobservation must have been satisfactory, for presently she\nlaughed, and said:\n\n\"Uncle Remus, you haven't told me how you knew me in that great\ncrowd.\"\n\nThe old man chuckled, and gave the horses a gentle rap with the\nwhip.\n\n\"Who? Me! I know'd you by de faver. Dat boy er Mars John's is de\nve'y spit en immij un you. I'd a know'd you in New 'Leens, let\nlone down dar in de kyar-shed.\"\n\nThis was Miss Theodosia's introduction to Uncle Remus. One Sunday\nafternoon, a few weeks after her arrival, the family were assembled\nin the piazza enjoying the mild weather. Mr. Huntingdon was reading\na newspaper; his wife was crooning softly as she rocked the baby to\nsleep; and the little boy was endeavoring to show his Aunt Dosia\nthe outlines of Kennesaw Mountain through the purple haze that\nhung like a wonderfully fashioned curtain in the sky and almost\nobliterated the horizon. While they were thus engaged, Uncle Remus\ncame around the corner of the house, talking to himself.\n\n\"Dey er too lazy ter wuk,\" he was saying, \"en dey specks hones'\nfokes fer ter stan' up en s'port um. I'm gwine down ter Putmon\nCounty whar Mars Jeems is--dat's w'at I'm agwine ter do.\"\n\n\"What's the matter now, Uncle Remus?\" inquired Mr. Huntingdon,\nfolding up his newspaper.\n\n\"Nuthin' 'tall, Mars John, 'ceppin deze yer sunshine niggers. Dey\nbegs my terbacker, en borrys my tools, en steals my vittles, en\nhit's done come ter dat pass dat I gotter pack up en go. I'm\nagwine down ter Putmon, dat's w'at.\"\n\nUncle Remus was accustomed to make this threat several times a\nday, but upon this occasion it seemed to remind Mr. Huntingdon of\nsomething.\n\n\"Very well,\" he said, \"I'll come around and help you pack up, but\nbefore you go I want you to tell Sister here how you went to war\nand fought for the Union.--Remus was a famous warrior,\" he\ncontinued, turning to Miss Theodosia; \"he volunteered for one\nday, and commanded an army of one. You know the story, but you\nhave never heard Remus's version.\"\n\nUncle Remus shuffled around in an awkward, embarrassed way,\nscratched his head, and looked uncomfortable.\n\n\"Miss Doshy ain't got no time fer ter set dar an' year de ole\nnigger run on.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I have, Uncle Remus!\" exclaimed the young lady; \"plenty\nof time.\"\n\nThe upshot of it was that, after many ridiculous protests, Uncle\nRemus sat down on the steps, and proceeded to tell his story of\nthe war. Miss Theodosia listened with great interest, but\nthroughout it all she observed--and she was painfully conscious\nof the fact, as she afterward admitted--that Uncle Remus spoke\nfrom the standpoint of a Southerner, and with the air of one who\nexpected his hearers to thoroughly sympathize with him.\n\n\"Co'se,\" said Uncle Remus, addressing himself to Miss Theodosia,\n\"you ain't bin to Putmon, en you dunner whar de Brad Slaughter\nplace en Harmony Grove is, but Mars John en Miss Sally, dey bin\ndar a time er two, en dey knows how de lan' lays. Well, den, it\n'uz right long in dere whar Mars Jeems lived, en whar he live\nnow. When de war come long he wuz livin' dere longer Ole Miss en\nMiss Sally. Ole Miss 'uz his ma, en Miss Sally dar 'uz his\nsister. De war come des like I tell you, en marters sorter rock\nalong same like dey allers did. Hit didn't strike me dat dey wuz\nenny war gwine on, en ef I hadn't sorter miss de nabers, en seed\nfokes gwine outer de way fer ter ax de news, I'd a 'lowed ter\nmyse'f dat de war wuz 'way off 'mong some yuther country. But all\ndis time de fuss wuz gwine on, en Mars Jeems, he wuz des eatchin'\nfer ter put in. Ole Miss en Miss Sally, dey tuck on so he didn't\ngit off de fus' year, but bimeby news come down dat times wuz\ngittin' putty hot, en Mars Jeems he got up, he did, en say he\ngotter go, en go he did. He got a overseer fer ter look atter de\nplace, en he went en jined de army. En he 'uz a fighter, too,\nmon, Mars Jeems wuz. Many's en many's de time,\" continued the old\nman, reflectively, \"dat I hatter take'n bresh dat boy on a\ncounter his 'buzin' en beatin' dem yuther boys. He went off dar\nfer ter fight, en he fit. Ole Miss useter call me up Sunday\nen read w'at de papers say 'bout Mars Jeems, en it ho'p 'er up\nmight'ly. I kin see 'er des like it 'uz yistiddy.\n\n\"'Remus,' sez she, 'dish yer's w'at de papers say 'bout my baby,'\nen den she'd read out twel she couldn't read fer cryin'. Hit went\non dis way year in en year out, en dem wuz lonesome times, sho's\nyou bawn, Miss Doshy--lonesome times, sho. Hit got hotter en\nhotter in de war, en lonesomer en mo' lonesomer at home, en\nbimeby 'long come de conscrip' man, en he des everlas'nly scoop\nup Mars Jeems's overseer. W'en dis come 'bout, ole Miss, she sont\natter me en say, sez she:\n\n\"'Remus, I ain't got nobody fer ter look arter de place but you,'\nsez she, en den I up'n say, sez I:\n\n\"'Mistiss, you kin des 'pen' on de ole nigger.'\n\n\"I wuz ole den, Miss Doshy--let lone w'at I is now; en you better\nb'leeve I bossed dem han's. I had dem niggers up en in de fiel'\nlong 'fo' day, en de way dey did wuk wuz a caution. Ef dey didn't\nearn der vittles dat season den I ain't name Remus. But dey wuz\ntuk keer un. Dey had plenty er cloze en plenty er grub, en dey\nwuz de fattes' niggers in de settlement.\n\n\"Bimeby one day, Ole Miss, she call me up en say de Yankees done\ngone en tuck Atlanty--dish yer ve'y town; den present'y I year\ndey wuz a marchin' on down todes Putmon, en, lo en behol's! one\nday, de fus news I know'd, Mars Jeems he rid up wid a whole gang\ner men. He des stop long nuff fer ter change hosses en snatch a\nmouffle er sump'n ter eat, but 'fo' he rid off, he call me up en\nsay, sez he:\n\n\"'Daddy'--all Ole Miss's chilluns call me daddy--'Daddy,' he say,\n''pears like dere's gwineter be mighty rough times 'roun' yer. De\nYankees, dey er done got ter Madison en Mounticellar, en 'twon't\nbe many days 'fo' dey er down yer. 'Tain't likely dey'll pester\nmother ner sister; but, daddy, ef de wus come ter de wus, I speck\nyou ter take keer un um,' sezee.\n\n\"Den I say, sez I: 'How long you bin knowin' me, Mars Jeems?' sez\nI.\n\n\"'Sence I wuz a baby,' sezee.\n\n\"'Well, den, Mars Jeems,' sez I, 'you know'd 'twa'nt no use fer\nter ax me ter take keer Ole Miss en Miss Sally.'\n\n\"Den he tuck'n squoze my han' en jump on de filly I bin savin'\nfer 'im, en rid off. One time he tu'n roun' en look like he\nwanter say sump'n', but he des waf' his han'--so--en gallop on. I\nknow'd den dat trouble wuz brewin'. Nigger dat knows he's\ngwineter git thumped kin sorter fix hisse'f, en I tuck'n fix up\nlike de war wuz gwineter come right in at de front gate. I tuck'n\ngot all de cattle en hosses tergedder en driv' um ter de fo'-mile\nplace, en I tuck all de corn en fodder en w'eat, en put um in a\ncrib out dar in de woods; en I bilt me a pen in de swamp, en dar\nI put de hogs. Den, w'en I fix all dis, I put on my Sunday cloze\nen groun' my axe. Two whole days I groun' dat axe. De grinestone\nwuz in sight er de gate en close ter de big 'ouse, en dar I tuck\nmy stan'.\n\n\"Bimeby one day, yer come de Yankees. Two un um come fus, en\nden de whole face er de yeath swawm'd wid um. De fus glimpse I\nkotch un um, I tuck my axe en march inter Ole Miss settin'-room.\nShe done had de sidebo'd move in dar, en I wish I may drap ef\n'twuzn't fa'rly blazin' wid silver--silver cups en silver\nsassers, silver plates en silver dishes, silver mugs en silver\npitchers. Look like ter me dey wuz fixin' fer a weddin'. Dar sot\nOle Miss des ez prim en ez proud ez ef she own de whole county.\nDis kinder ho'p me up, kaze I done seed Ole Miss look dat away\nonce befo' w'en de overseer struck me in de face wid a w'ip. I\nsot down by de fier wid my axe tween my knees. Dar we sot w'iles\nde Yankees ransack de place. Miss Sally, dar, she got sorter\nrestless, but Ole Miss didn't skasely bat 'er eyes. Bimeby, we\nhear steps on de peazzer, en yer come a couple er young fellers\nwid strops on der shoulders, en der sodes a draggin' on de flo',\nen der spurrers a rattlin'. I won't say I wuz skeer'd,\" said\nUncle Remus, as though endeavoring to recall something he failed\nto remember, \"I won't say I wuz skeer'd, kaze I wuzzent; but I\nwuz took'n wid a mighty funny feelin' in de naberhood er de\ngizzard. Dey wuz mighty perlite, dem young chaps wuz; but Ole\nMiss, she never tu'n 'er head, en Miss Sally, she look straight\nat de fier. Bimeby one un um see me, en he say, sezee:\n\n\"'Hello, ole man, w'at you doin' in yer?' sezee.\n\n\"'Well, boss,' sez I, 'I bin cuttin' some wood fer Ole Miss, en I\ndes stop fer ter worn my han's a little,' sez I.\n\n\"'Hit is col', dat's a fack,' sezee.\n\n\"Wid dat I got up en tuck my stan' behime Ole Miss en Miss Sally,\nen de man w'at speak, he went up en worn his han's. Fus thing you\nknow, he raise up sudden, en say, sezee:\n\n\"'W'at dat on yo' axe?'\n\n\"'Dat's de fier shinin' on it,' sez I.\n\n\"'Hit look like blood,' sezee, en den he laft.\n\n\"But, bless yo' soul, dat man wouldn't never laft dat day ef he'd\nknow'd de wukkins er Remus's mine. But dey didn't bodder nobody\nner tech nuthin', en bimeby dey put out. Well, de Yankees, dey\nkep' passin' all de mawnin' en it look like ter me dey wuz a\nstring un um ten mile long. Den dey commence gittin' thinner en\nthinner, en den atter w'ile we hear skummishin' in de naberhood\ner Armer's fe'y, en Ole Miss 'low how dat wuz Wheeler's men\nmakin' persoot. Mars Jeems wuz wid dem Wheeler fellers, en I\nknow'd ef dey wuz dat close I wa'n't doin' no good settin' 'roun'\nde house toas'n my shins at de fier, so I des tuck Mars Jeems's\nrifle fum behime de do' en put out ter look atter my stock.\n\n\"Seem like I ain't never see no raw day like dat, needer befo'\nner sence. Dey wa'n't no rain, but de wet des sifted down; mighty\nraw day. De leaves on de groun' 'uz so wet dey don't make no\nfuss, en I got in de woods, en w'enever I year de Yankees gwine\nby, I des stop in my tracks en let un pass. I wuz stan'in' dat\naway in de aidge er de woods lookin' out cross a clearin', w'en--\npiff!--out come a little bunch er blue smoke fum de top er wunner\ndem big lonesome-lookin' pines, en den--pow!\n\n\"Sez I ter myse'f, sez I: 'Honey, you er right on my route, en\nI'll des see w'at kinder bird you got roostin' in you,' en w'iles\nI wuz a lookin' out bus' de smoke--piff! en den--bang! Wid dat I\ndes drapt back inter de woods, en sorter skeerted 'roun' so's ter\ngit de tree 'twixt' me en de road. I slid up putty close, en\nwadder you speck I see? Des ez sho's you er settin' dar lissenin'\ndey wuz a live Yankee up dar in dat tree, en he wuz a loadin' en\na shootin' at de boys des ez cool es a cowcumber in de jew, en he\nhad his hoss hitch out in de bushes, kaze I year de creetur\ntromplin' 'roun'. He had a spy-glass up dar, en w'iles I wuz a\nwatchin' un 'im, he raise 'er up en look thoo 'er, en den he lay\n'er down en fix his gun fer ter shoot.\n\n\"I had good eyes in dem days, ef I ain't got um now, en way up de\nbig road I see Mars Jeems a comm'. Hit wuz too fur fer ter see\nhis face, but I know'd 'im by de filly w'at I raise fer 'im, en\nshe wuz a prancin' like a school-gal. I know'd dat man wuz\ngwineter shoot Mars Jeems ef he could, en dat wuz mo'n I could\nstan'. Many's en many's de time dat I nuss dat boy, en hilt 'im\nin dese arms, en toted 'im on dis back, en w'en I see dat Yankee\nlay dat gun 'cross a lim' en take aim at Mars Jeems I up wid my\nole rifle, en shet my eyes en let de man have all she had.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say,\" exclaimed Miss Theodosia, indignantly,\n\"that you shot the Union soldier, when you knew he was fighting\nfor your freedom?\"\n\n\"Co'se, I know all about dat,\" responded Uncle Remus, \"en it\nsorter made col' chills run up my back; but w'en I see dat man\ntake aim, en Mars Jeems gwine home ter Ole Miss en Miss Sally, I\ndes disremembered all 'bout freedom en lammed aloose. En den\natter dat, me en Miss Sally tuck en nuss de man right straight\nalong. He los' one arm in dat tree bizness, but me en Miss Sally\nwe nuss 'im en we nuss 'im twel he done got well. Des 'bout dat\ntime I quit nuss'n 'im, but Miss Sally she kep' on. She kep' on,\"\ncontinued Uncle Remus, pointing to Mr. Huntingdon, \"en now dar he\nis.\"\n\n\"But you cost him an arm,\" exclaimed Miss Theodosia.\n\n\"I gin 'im dem,\" said Uncle Remus, pointing to Mrs. Huntingdon,\n\"en I gin 'im deze\"--holding up his own brawny arms. \"En ef dem\nain't nuff fer enny man den I done los' de way.\"\n\n\nHIS SAYINGS\n\nI.  JEEMS ROBER'SON'S LAST ILLNESS\n\nA Jonesboro negro, while waiting for the train to go out, met up\nwith Uncle Remus. After the usual \"time of day\" had been passed\nbetween the two, the former inquired about an acquaintance.\n\n\"How's Jeems Rober'son?\" he asked.\n\n\"Ain't you year 'bout Jim?\" asked Uncle Remus.\n\n\"Dat I ain't,\" responded the other; \"I ain't hear talk er Jem\nsence he cut loose fum de chain-gang. Dat w'at make I ax. He\nain't down wid de biliousness, is he?\"\n\n\"Not dat I knows un,\" responded  Uncle  Remus, gravely. \"He ain't\nsick, an' he ain't bin sick. He des tuck'n say he wuz gwineter\nride dat ar roan mule er Mars John's de udder Sunday, an' de\nmule, she up'n do like she got nudder ingagement. I done bin fool\nwid dat mule befo', an' I tuck'n tole Jim dat he better not git\ntangle up wid 'er; but Jim, he up'n 'low dat he wuz a hoss-\ndoctor, an' wid dat he ax me fer a chaw terbacker, en den he got\nde bridle, en tuck'n kotch de mule en got on her--Well,\"\ncontinued Uncle Remus, looking uneasily around, \"I speck you\nbetter go git yo' ticket. Dey tells me dish yer train goes a\ncallyhootin'.\"\n\n\"Hol' on dar, Uncle Remus; you ain't tell me 'bout Jim,\"\nexclaimed the Jonesboro negro.\n\n\"I done tell you all I knows, chile. Jim, he tuck'n light on de\nmule, an' de mule she up'n hump 'erse'f, an den dey wuz a\nskuffle, an' w'en de dus' blow 'way, dar lay de nigger on de\ngroun', an' de mule she stood eatin' at de troff wid wunner Jim's\ngallusses wrop 'roun' her behime-leg. Den atterwuds, de ker'ner,\nhe come 'roun', an' he tuck'n gin it out dat Jim died sorter\naccidental like. Hit's des like I tell you: de nigger wern't sick\na minnit. So long! Bimeby you won't ketch yo' train. I got ter be\nknockin' long.\"\n\n\nII. UNCLE REMUS'S CHURCH EXPERIENCE\n\nTHE deacon of a colored church met Uncle Remus recently, and,\nafter some uninteresting remarks about the weather, asked:\n\n\"How dis you don't come down ter chu'ch no mo', Brer Remus? We\ner bin er havin' some mighty 'freshen' times lately.\"\n\n\"Hit's bin a long time sence I bin down dar, Brer Rastus, an'\nhit'll be longer. I done got my dose.\"\n\n\"You ain't done gone an' unjined, is you, Brer Remus?\"\n\n\"Not zackly, Brer Rastus. I des tuck'n draw'd out. De members 'uz\na blame sight too mutuel fer ter suit my doctrines.\"\n\n\"How wuz dat, Brer Remus?\"\n\n\"Well, I tell you, Brer Rastus. W'en I went ter dat chu'ch, I\nwent des ez umbill ez de nex' one. I went dar fer ter sing, an'\nfer ter pray, an' fer ter wushup, an' I mos' giner'lly allers had\na stray shin-plarster w'ich de ole 'oman say she want sont out\ndar ter dem cullud fokes 'cross de water. Hit went on dis way\ntwel bimeby, one day, de fus news I know'd der was a row got up\nin de amen cornder. Brer Dick, he 'nounced dat dey wern't nuff\nmoney in de box; an' Brer Sim said if dey wern't he speck Brer\nDick know'd whar it disappeared ter; an' den Brer Dick 'low'd dat\nhe won't stan' no 'probusness, an' wid dat he haul off an' tuck\nBrer Sim under de jaw--ker blap!--an' den dey clinched an'\ndrapped on de flo' an' fout under de benches an' 'mong de wimmen.\n\n\"'Bout dat time Sis Tempy, she lipt up in de a'r, an' sing out\ndat she done gone an tromple on de Ole Boy, an' she kep' on\nlippin' up an' slingin' out 'er han's twel bimeby--blip!--she\ntuck Sis Becky in de mouf, an' den Sis Becky riz an' fetch a grab\nat Sis Tempy, an' I 'clar' ter grashus ef didn't 'pear ter me\nlike she got a poun' er wool. Atter dat de revivin' sorter het up\nlike. Bofe un um had kin 'mong de mo'ners, an' ef you ever see\nskufflin' an' scramblin' hit wuz den an' dar. Brer Jeems Henry,\nhe mounted Brer Plato an' rid 'im over de railin', an' den de\npreacher he start down fum de pulpit, an' des ez he wuz skippin'\nonter de platform a hym'-book kotch 'im in de bur er de year, an\nI be bless ef it didn't soun' like a bung-shell'd busted. Des\nden, Brer Jesse, he riz up in his seat, sorter keerless like, an'\nwent down inter his britches atter his razer, an' right den I\nknow'd sho' nuff trubble wuz begun. Sis Dilsey, she seed it\nherse'f, an' she tuck'n let off wunner dem hallyluyah hollers,\nan' den I disremember w'at come ter pass.\n\n\"I'm gittin' sorter ole, Brer Rastus, an' it seem like de dus'\nsorter shet out de pannyrammer. Fuddermo', my lim's got ter akin,\nmo' speshully w'en I year Brer Sim an' Brer Dick a snortin' and a\nskufflin' under de benches like ez dey wuz sorter makin' der way\nter my pew. So I kinder hump myse'f an' scramble out, and de fus\nman w'at I seed was a pleeceman, an' he had a nigger 'rested, an'\nde fergiven name er dat nigger wuz Remus.\"\n\n\"He didn't 'res' you, did he, Brer Remus?\"\n\n\"Hit's des like I tell you, Brer Rastus, an' I hatter git Mars\nJohn fer to go inter my bon's fer me. Hit ain't no use fer ter\nsing out chu'ch ter me, Brer Rastus. I done bin an' got my dose.\nW'en I goes ter war, I wanter know w'at I'm a doin'. I don't\nwanter git hemmed up 'mong no wimmen and preachers. I wants\nelbow-room, an I'm bleedzd ter have it. Des gimme elbow-room.\"\n\n\"But, Brer Remus, you ain't--\"\n\n\"I mout drap in, Brer Rastus, an' den ag'in I moutn't, but w'en\nyou duz see me santer in de do', wid my specs on, you k'n des say\nto de congergashun, sorter familious like, 'Yer come ole man\nRemus wid his hoss-pistol, an' ef dar's much uv a skuffle 'roun'\nyer dis evenin' you er gwineter year fum 'im.' Dat's me, an'\ndat's what you kin tell um. So long! Member me to Sis Abby.\"\n\nIII.  UNCLE REMUS AND THE SAVANNAH DARKEY\n\nTHE notable difference existing between the negroes in the\ninterior of the cotton States and those on the seaboard--a\ndifference that extends to habits and opinions as well as to\ndialect--has given rise to certain ineradicable prejudices which\nare quick to display themselves whenever an opportunity offers.\nThese prejudices were forcibly, as well as ludicrously,\nillustrated in Atlanta recently. A gentleman from Savannah had\nbeen spending the summer in the mountains of north Georgia, and\nfound it convenient to take along a body-servant. This body-\nservant was a very fine specimen of the average coast negro--\nsleek, well-conditioned, and consequential--disposed to regard\nwith undisguised contempt everything and everybody not indigenous\nto the rice-growing region--and he paraded around the streets\nwith quite a curious and critical air. Espying Uncle Remus\nlanguidly sunning himself on a corner, the Savannah darkey\napproached.\n\n\"Mornin', sah.\"\n\n\"I'm sorter up an' about,\" responded Uncle Remus, carelessly and\ncalmly. \"How is you stannin' it?\"\n\n\"Tanky you, my helt' mos' so-so. He mo' hot dun in de mountain.\nSeem so lak man mus' git need*1 de shade. I enty fer see no\nrice-bud in dis pa'ts.\"\n\n\"In dis w'ich?\" inquired Uncle with a sudden affectation of\ninterest.\n\n\"In dis pa'ts. In dis country. Da plenty in Sawanny.\"\n\n\"Plenty whar?\"\n\n\"Da plenty in Sawanny. I enty fer see no crab an' no oscher; en\nswimp, he no stay 'roun'. I lak some rice-bud now.\"\n\n\"You er talkin' 'bout deze yer sparrers, w'ich dey er all head,\nen 'lev'm un makes one mouffle,*2  I speck,\" suggested Uncle\nRemus. \"Well, dey er yer,\" he continued, \"but dis ain't no\nclimate whar de rice-birds flies inter yo' pockets en gits out de\nmoney an' makes de change derse'f; an' de isters don't shuck off\nder shells en run over you on de street, an' no mo' duz de s'imp\nhull derse'f an' drap in yo' mouf. But dey er yer, dough. De\nscads 'll fetch um.\"\n\n\"Him po' country fer true,\" commented the Savannah negro; \"he no\nlike Sawanny. Down da, we set need de shade an' eaty de rice-bud,\nan' de crab, an' de swimp tree time de day; an' de buckra man\ndrinky him wine, an' smoky him seegyar all troo de night. Plenty\nfer eat an' not much fer wuk.\"\n\n\"Hit's mighty nice, I speck,\" responded Uncle Remus, gravely. \"De\nnigger dat ain't hope up 'longer high feedin' ain't got no grip.\nBut up yer whar fokes is gotter scramble 'roun' an' make der own\nlivin', de vittles w'at's kumerlated widout enny sweatin' mos'\nallers gener'ly b'longs ter some yuther man by rights. One hoe-\ncake an' a rasher er middlin' meat las's me fum Sunday ter\nSunday, an' I'm in a mighty big streak er luck w'en I gits dat.\"\n\nThe Savannah negro here gave utterance to a loud, contemptuous\nlaugh, and began to fumble somewhat ostentatiously with a big\nbrass watch-chain.\n\n\"But I speck I struck up wid a payin' job las' Chuseday,\"\ncontinued Uncle Remus, in a hopeful tone.\n\n\"Wey you gwan do?\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm a waitin' on a culled gemmun fum Savannah--wunner deze\nyer high livers you bin tellin' 'bout.\"\n\n\"How dat?\"\n\n\"I loant 'im two dollars,\" responded Uncle Remus, grimly, \"an'\nI'm a waitin' on 'im fer de money. Hit's wunner deze yer jobs\nw'at las's a long time.\"\n\nThe Savannah negro went off after his rice-birds, while Uncle\nRemus leaned up against the wall and laughed until he was in\nimminent danger of falling down from sheer exhaustion.\n\n*1 Underneath.\n*2 Mouthful.\n\n\nTURNIP SALAD AS A TEXT\n\nAs Uncle Remus was going down the street recently he was\naccosted by several acquaintances.\n\n\"Heyo!\" said one, \"here comes Uncle Remus. He look like he gwine\nfer ter set up a bo'din-house.\"\n\nSeveral others bantered the old man, but he appeared to be in a\ngood humor. He was carrying a huge basket of vegetables.\n\n\"How many er you boys,\" said he, as he put his basket down, \"is\ndone a han's turn dis day? En yit de week's done commence. I year\ntalk er niggers dat's got money in de bank, but I lay hit ain't\nnone er you fellers. Whar you speck you gwineter git yo' dinner,\nen how you speck you gwineter git 'long?\"\n\n\"Oh, we sorter knocks 'roun' an' picks up a livin',\" responded\none.\n\n\"Dat's w'at make I say w'at I duz,\" said Uncle Remus. \"Fokes go\n'bout in de day-time an' makes a livin', an' you come 'long w'en\ndey er res'in' der bones an' picks it up. I ain't no han' at\nfiggers, but I lay I k'n count up right yer in de san' en number\nup how menny days hit'll be 'fo' you 'er cuppled on ter de chain-\ngang.\"\n\n\"De ole man's holler'n now sho',\" said one of the listeners,\ngazing with admiration on the venerable old darkey.\n\n\"I ain't takin' no chances 'bout vittles. Hit's proned inter me\nfum de fus dat I got ter eat, en I knows dat I got fer ter grub\nfor w'at I gits. Hit's agin de mor'l law fer niggers fer ter eat\nw'en dey don't wuk, an' w'en you see um 'pariently fattenin' on\na'r, you k'n des bet dat ruinashun's gwine on some'rs. I got\nmustard, en poke salid, en lam's quarter in dat baskit, en me en\nmy ole 'oman gwineter sample it. Ef enny you boys git a invite\nyou come, but ef you don't you better stay 'way. I gotter muskit\nout dar w'at's used ter persidin' 'roun' whar dey's a cripple\nnigger. Don't you fergit dat off'n yo' mine.\"\n\n\nV. A CONFESSION\n\n\"W'AT'S dis yer I see, great big niggers gwine 'lopin' 'roun'\ntown wid cakes 'n pies fer ter sell?\" asked Uncle Remus recently,\nin his most scornful tone.\n\n\"That's what they are doing,\" responded a young man; \"that's the\nway they make a living.\"\n\n\"Dat w'at make I say w'at I duz--dat w'at keep me grum'lin' w'en\nI goes in cullud fokes s'ciety. Some niggers ain't gwine ter wuk\nnohow, an' hit's flingin' way time fer ter set enny chain-gang\ntraps fer ter ketch um.\"\n\n\"Well, now, here!\" exclaimed the young man, in a dramatic tone,\n\"what are you giving us now? Isn't it just as honest and just as\nregular to sell pies as it is to do any other kind of work?\"\n\n\"'Tain't dat, boss:' said the old man, seeing that he was about\nto be cornered; 'tain't dat. Hit's de nas'ness un it w'at gits\nme.\"\n\n\"Oh, get out!\"\n\n\"Dat's me, boss, up an' down. Ef dere's ruinashun ennywhar in de\nknown wurril, she goes in de comp'ny uv a hongry nigger w'at's a\ntotin' pies 'roun.' Sometimes w'en I git kotch wid emptiness in\nde pit er de stummuck, an' git ter fairly honin' arter sumpin'\nw'at got substance in it, den hit look like unto me dat I kin\nstan' flat-footed an' make more cle'r money eatin' pies dan I\ncould if I wuz ter sell de las' one 'twixt dis an' Chris'mus. An'\nde nigger w'at k'n trapes 'round wid pies and not git in no\nalley-way an' sample um, den I'm bleedzd ter say dat nigger out-\nniggers me an' my fambly. So dar now!\"\n\n\nVI. UNCLE REMUS WITH THE TOOTHACHE\n\nWHEN Uncle Remus put in an appearance one morning recently,\nhis friends knew he had been in trouble. He had a red cotton\nhandkerchief tied under his chin, and the genial humor that\nusually makes his aged face its dwelling-place had given way to\nan expression of grim melancholy. The young men about the office\nwere inclined to chaff him, but his look of sullen resignation\nremained unchanged.\n\n\"What revival did you attend last night?\" inquired one.\n\n\"What was the color of the mule that did the hammering?\" asked\nanother.\n\n\"I always told the old man that a suburban chicken coop would\nfall on him,\" remarked some one.\n\n\"A strange pig has been squealing in his ear,\" suggested some one\nelse.\n\nBut Uncle Remus remained impassive. He seemed to have lost all\ninterest in what was going on around him, and he sighed heavily\nas he seated himself on the edge of the trash-box in front of the\noffice. Finally some one asked, in a sympathetic tone:\n\n\"What is the matter, old man? You look like you'd been through\nthe mill.\"\n\n\"Now you 'er knockin'. I ain't bin thoo de mill sence day 'fo'\nyistiddy, den dey ain't no mills in de lan'. Ef wunner deze yer\nscurshun trains had runned over me I couldn't er bin wuss off. I\nbin trompin' 'roun' in de lowgroun's now gwine on seventy-fi'\nyear, but I ain't see no sich times ez dat w'at I done spe'unst\nnow. Boss, is enny er you all ever rastled wid de toofache?\"\n\n\"Oh, hundreds of times! The toothache isn't anything.\"\n\n\"Den you des played 'roun' de aidges. You ain't had de kine w'at\nkotch me on de underjaw. You mout a had a gum-bile, but you\nain't bin boddered wid de toofache. I wuz settin' up talkin' wid\nmy ole 'oman, kinder puzzlin' 'roun' fer ter see whar de nex'\nmeal's vittles wuz a gwineter cum fum, an' I feel a little ache\nsorter crawlin' 'long on my jaw-bone, kinder feelin' his way. But\nde ache don't stay long. He sorter hankered 'roun' like, en den\ncrope back whar he come fum. Bimeby I feel 'im comin' agin, an'\ndis time hit look like he come up closer--kinder skummishin'\n'roun' fer ter see how de lan' lay. Den he went off. Present'y I\nfeel 'im comin', an' dis time hit look like he kyar'd de news\nunto Mary, fer hit feel like der wuz anudder wun wid 'im. Dey\ncrep' up an' crep' 'roun', an, den dey crope off. Bimeby dey come\nback, an' dis time dey come like dey wuzzent 'fear'd er de\ns'roundin's, fer dey trot right up unto de toof, sorter 'zamine\nit like, an' den trot all roun' it, like deze yer circuous\nhosses. I sot dar mighty ca'm, but I 'spected dat sump'n' wuz\ngwine ter happ'n.\"\n\n\"And it happened, did it?\" asked some one in the group\nsurrounding the old man.\n\n\"Boss, don't you fergit it,\" responded Uncle Remus, fervidly.\n\"W'en dem aches gallop back dey galloped fer ter stay, an' dey\nwuz so mixed up dat I couldn't tell one fum de udder. All night\nlong dey racked an' dey galloped, an' w'en dey got tired er\nrackin' an' gallopin', dey all close in on de ole toof an'\nthumped it an' gouged at it twel it 'peared unto me dat dey had\ngot de jaw-bone loosened up, an' wuz tryin' fer ter fetch it up\nthoo de top er my head an' out at der back er my neck. An' dey\ngot wuss nex' day. Mars John, he seed I wuz 'stracted, an' he\ntole me fer ter go roun' yere an' git sump'n' put on it, an' de\ndrug man he 'lowed dat I better have 'er draw'd, an' his wuds\nwuzzent more'n col' 'fo' wunner deze yer watchyoumaycollums--\nwunner deze dentis' mens--had retched fer it wid a pa'r er tongs\nw'at don't tu'n loose w'en dey ketches a holt. Leas'ways dey\ndidn't wid me. You oughter seed dat toof, boss. Hit wuz wunner\ndeze yer fo'-prong fellers. Ef she'd a grow'd wrong eend out'ard,\nI'd a bin a bad nigger long arter I jin'd de chu'ch. You year'd\nmy ho'n!\"\n\n\nVII. THE PHONOGRAPH\n\n\"UNC REMUS,\" asked a tall, awkward-looking negro, who was one of\na crowd surrounding the old man, \"w'at's dish 'ere w'at dey calls\nde fonygraf--dish yer inst'ument w'at kin holler 'roun' like\nlittle chillun in de back yard?\"\n\n\"I ain't seed um,\" said Uncle Remus, feeling in his pocket for a\nfresh chew of tobacco. \"I ain't seed um, but I year talk un um.\nMiss Sally wuz a readin' in de papers las' Chuseday, an' she say\ndat's it's a mighty big watchyoumaycollum.\"\n\n\"A mighty big w'ich?\" asked one of the crowd.\n\n\"A mighty big w'atsizname,\" answered Uncle Remus, cautiously. \"I\nwuzzent up dar close to whar Miss Sarah wuz a readin', but I\nkinder geddered in dat it wuz one er deze 'ere w'atzisnames w'at\nyou hollers inter one year an it comes out er de udder.  Hit's\nmighty funny unter me how dese fokes kin go an' prognosticate der\neckoes inter one er deze yer i'on boxes, an' dar hit'll stay on\ntwel de man comes long an' tu'ns de handle an' let's de fuss come\npilin' out. Bimeby dey'll git ter makin' sho' nuff fokes, an' den\ndere'll be a racket 'roun' here. Dey tells me dat it goes off\nlike one er deze yer torpedoes.\"\n\n\"You year dat, don't you?\" said one or two of the younger\nnegroes.\n\n\"Dat's w'at dey tells me,\" continued Uncle Remus. \"Dat's w'at dey\nsez. Hit's one er deze yer kinder w'atzisnames w'at sasses back\nw'en you hollers at it.\"\n\n\"W'at dey fix um fer, den?\" asked one of the practical negroes.\n\n\"Dat's w'at I wanter know,\" said Uncle Remus, contemplatively.\n\"But dat's w'at Miss Sally wuz a readin' in de paper. All you\ngotter do is ter holler at de box, an' dar's yo' remarks. Dey\ngoes in, an' dar dey er tooken and dar dey hangs on twel you\nshakes de box, an' den dey draps out des ez fresh ez deze yer\nfishes w'at you git fum Savannah, an' you ain't got time fer ter\nlook at dere gills, nudder.\"\n\n\nVIII. RACE IMPROVEMENT\n\n\"Dere's a kind er limberness 'bout niggers dese days dat's mighty\ncu'us,\" remarked Uncle Remus yesterday, as he deposited a pitcher\nof fresh water upon the exchange table. \"I notisses it in de\nalley-ways an on de street-cornders. Dey er rackin' up, mon, deze\nyer cullud fokes is.\"\n\n\"What are you trying to give us now?\" inquired one of the young\nmen, in a bilious tone.\n\n\"The old man's mind is wandering,\" said the society editor,\nsmoothing the wrinkles out of his lavender kids.\n\nUncle Remus laughed. I speck I is a gittin' mo frailer dan I wuz\n'fo' de fahmin days wuz over, but I sees wid my eyes an' I years\nwid my year, same ez enny er dese yer young bucks w'at goes a\ngallopin' roun' huntin' up devilment, an' w'en I sees de\nlimberness er dese yer cullud people, an' w'en I sees how dey er\ndancin' up, den I gits sorter hopeful. Dey er kinder ketchin' up\nwid me.\"\n\n\"How is that?\"\n\n\"Oh, dey er movin',\" responded Uncle Remus. \"Dey er sorter comin'\n'roun'. Dey er gittin' so dey bleeve dat dey ain't no better dan\nde w'ite fokes. W'en freedom come out de niggers sorter got dere\nhumps up, an' dey staid dat way, twel bimeby dey begun fer ter\ngit hongry, an' den dey begun fer ter drap inter line right\nsmartually; an' now,\" continued the old man, emphatically, \"dey\ner des ez palaverous ez dey wuz befo' de war. Dey er gittin' on\nsolid groun', mon.\"\n\n\"You think they are improving, then?\"\n\n\"You er chawin' guv'nment now, boss. You slap de law onter a\nnigger a time er two, an' larn 'im dat he's got fer to look after\nhis own rashuns an' keep out'n udder fokes's chick'n-coops, an'\nsorter coax 'im inter de idee dat he's got ter feed 'is own\nchilluns, an' I be blessed ef you ain't got 'im on risin' groun'.\nAn', mo'n dat, w'en he gits holt er de fack dat a nigger k'n have\nyaller fever same ez w'ite folks, you done got 'im on de mo'ners'\nbench, an' den ef you come down strong on de p'int dat he oughter\nstan' fas' by de fokes w'at hope him w'en he wuz in trouble de\njob's done. W'en you does dat, ef you ain't got yo' han's on a\nnew-made nigger, den my name ain't Remus, an' ef dat name's bin\nchanged I ain't seen her abbertized.\"\n\n\nIX. IN THE ROLE OF A TARTAR\n\nA CHARLESTON negro who was in Atlanta on the Fourth of July made\na mistake. He saw Uncle Remus edging his way through the crowd,\nand thought he knew him.\n\n\"Howdy, Daddy Ben?\" the stranger exclaimed. \"I tink I nubber see\nyou no mo'. Wey you gwan? He hot fer true, ain't he?\"\n\n\"Daddy who?\" asked Uncle Remus, straightening himself up with\ndignity. \"W'ich?\"\n\n\"I know you in Char'son, an' den in Sewanny. I spec I dun grow\naway from 'membrance.\"\n\n\"You knowed me in Charlstun, and den in Savanny?\"\n\n\"He been long time, ain't he, Daddy Ben?\"\n\n\"Dat's w'at's a pesterin' un me. How much you reckon you know'd\nme?\"\n\n\"He good while pas'; when I wer' pickaninny. He long time ago.\nWey you gwan, Daddy Ben?\"\n\n\"W'at does you season your recollection wid fer ter make it hol'\non so?\" inquired the old man.\n\n\"I dunno. He stick hese'f. I see you comin' 'long 'n I say 'Dey\nDaddy Ben.' I tink I see you no mo', an' I shaky you by de han'.\nWey you gwan? Dey no place yer wey we git wine?\"\n\nUncle Remus stared at the strange darkey curiously for a moment,\nand then he seized him by the arm.\n\n\"Come yer, son, whar dey ain't no folks an' lemme drap some\nJawjy 'intment in dem years er yone. You er mighty fur ways fum\nhome, an' you wanter be a lookin' out fer yo'se'f. Fus and\nfo'mus, you er thumpin' de wrong watermillion. You er w'isslin'\nup de wrong chube. I ain't tromped roun' de country much. I ain't\nbin to Charlstun an' needer is I tuck in Savanny; but you\ncouldn't rig up no game on me dat I wouldn't tumble on to it de\nminit I laid my eyeballs on you. W'en hit come to dat I'm ole man\nTumbler, fum Tumblersville--I is dat. Hit takes one er deze yer\nfull-blooded w'ite men fur ter trap my jedgment. But w'en a\nnigger comes a jabberin' 'roun' like he got a mouf full er rice\nstraw, he ain't got no mo' chance long side er me dan a sick\nsparrer wid a squinch-owl. You gutter travel wid a circus 'fo'\nyou gits away wid me. You better go long an' git yo' kyarpet-sack\nand skip de town. You er de freshest nigger w'at I seen yit.\"\n\nThe Charleston negro passed on just as a police-man' came up.\n\n\"Boss, you see dat smart Ellick?\"\n\n\"Yes, what's the matter with him?\"\n\n\"He's one er deze yer scurshun niggers from Charlstun. I seed you\na-stannin' over agin de cornder yander, an' ef dat nigger'd a\ndraw'd his monty kyards on me, I wuz a gwineter holler fer you.\nWould you er come, boss?\"\n\n\"Why, certainly, Uncle Remus.\"\n\n\"Dat's w'at I 'low'd. Little more'n he'd a bin aboard er de wrong\nwaggin. Dat's w'at he'd a bin.\"\n\n\nX. A CASE OF MEASLES\n\n\"YOU'VE been looking like you were rather under the weather for\nthe past week or two, Uncle Remus,\" said a gentleman to the old\nman.\n\n\"You'd be sorter puny, too, boss, if you'd er bin whar I bin.\"\n\n\"Where have you been?\"\n\n\"Pear ter me like eve'ybody done year 'bout dat. Dey ain't no ole\nnigger my age an' size dat's had no rattliner time dan I is.\"\n\n\"A kind of picnic?\"\n\n\"Go long, boss! w'at you speck I be doin' sailin' 'roun' ter dese\nyer cullud picnics? Much mo' an' I wouldn't make bread by wukkin'\nfer't, let 'lone follerin' up a passel er boys an' gals all over\nkeration. Boss, ain't you year 'bout it, sho' 'nuff?\"\n\n\"I haven't, really. What was the matter?\"\n\n\"I got strucken wid a sickness, an' she hit de ole nigger a joe-\ndarter 'fo' she tu'n 'im loose.\"\n\n\"What kind of sickness?\"\n\n\"Hit look sorter cu'ous, boss, but ole an' steddy ez I is, I\ntuck'n kotch de meezles.\"\n\n\"Oh, get out! You are trying to get up a sensation.\"\n\n\"Hit's a natal fack, boss, I declar' ter grashus ef 'tain't. Dey\nsorter come on wid a col', like--leas'ways dat's how I commence\nfer ter suffer, an' den er koff got straddle er de col'--one dese\nyer koffs w'at look like hit goes ter de foundash'n. I kep' on\nlinger'n' 'roun' sorter keepin' one eye on the rheumatiz an' de\nudder on de distemper, twel, bimeby, I begin fer ter feel de\ntrestle-wuk give way, an' den I des know'd dat I wuz gwineter\ngitter racket. I slipt inter bed one Chuseday night, an' I never\nslip out no mo' fer mighty nigh er mont'.\n\n\"Nex' mornin' de meezles 'd done kivered me, an' den ef I didn't\ngit dosted by de ole 'oman I'm a Chinee. She gimme back rashuns\ner sassafac tea. I des natchully hankered an' got hongry atter\nwater, an ev'y time I sing out fer water I got b'ilin' hot\nsassafac tea. Hit got so dat w'en I wake up in de mornin' de ole\n'oman 'd des come long wid a kittle er tea an' fill me up. Dey\ntells me 'roun' town dat chilluns don't git hurted wid de\nmeezles, w'ich ef dey don't I wanter be a baby de nex' time dey\nhits dis place. All dis yer meezles bizness is bran'-new ter me.\nIn ole times, 'fo' de wah, I ain't heer tell er no seventy-fi'-\nyear-ole nigger grapplin' wid no meezles. Dey ain't ketchin' no\nmo', is dey, boss?\"\n\n\"Oh, no--I suppose not.\"\n\n\"'Kase ef dey is, you k'n des put my name down wid de migrashun\nniggers.\"\n\n\nXI. THE EMIGRANTS\n\nWHEN Uncle Remus went down to the passenger depot one morning\nrecently, the first sight that caught his eye was an old negro\nman, a woman, and two children sitting in the shade near the\ndoor of the baggage-room. One of the children was very young,\nand the quartet was altogether ragged and forlorn-looking.\nThe sympathies of Uncle Remus were immediately aroused. He\napproached the group by forced marches, and finally unburdened\nhis curiosity.\n\n\"Whar is you m'anderin' unter, pard?\"\n\nThe old negro, who seemed to be rather suspicious, looked at\nUncle Remus coolly, and appeared to be considering whether he\nshould make any reply. Finally, however, he stretched himself and\nsaid:\n\n\"We er gwine down in de naberhoods er Tallypoosy, an we ain't\nmakin' no fuss 'bout it, nudder.\"\n\n\"I disremember,\" said Uncle Remus, thoughtfully, \"whar Tallypoosy\nis.\"\n\n\"Oh, hit's out yan,\" replied the old man, motioning his head as\nif it was just beyond the iron gates of the depot. \"Hit's down in\nAlabam. When we git dar, maybe well go on twel we gits ter\nMassasip.\"\n\n\"Is you got enny folks out dar?\" inquired Uncle Remus.\n\n\"None dat I knows un.\"\n\n\"An' you er takin' dis 'oman an' deze chillun out dar whar dey\ndunno nobody? Whar's yo' perwisions?\" eying a chest with a rope\naround it.\n\n\"Dem's our bedcloze,\"  the  old negro  explained, noticing the\nglance of Uncle Remus. \"All de vittles what we got we e't 'fo' we\nstarted.\"\n\n\"An' you speck ter retch dar safe an soun'? Whar's yo' ticket?\"\n\n\"Ain't got none. De man say ez how dey'd pass us thoo. I gin a\nman a fi'-dollar bill 'fo' I lef' Jonesboro, an' he sed dat\nsettled it.\"\n\n\"Lemme tell you dis,\" said Uncle Remus, straightening up\nindignantly: \"you go an' rob somebody an' git on de chain-gang,\nan' let de 'oman scratch 'roun' yer an' make 'er livin'; but\ndon't you git on dem kyars--don't you do it. Yo' bes' holt is de\nchain-gang. You kin make yo' livin' dar w'en you can't make it no\nwhars else. But don't you git on dem kyars. Ef you do, you er\ngone nigger. Ef you ain't got no money fer ter walk back wid, you\nbetter des b'il' yo' nes' right here. I'm a-talkin' wid de bark\non. I done seed deze yer Arkinsaw emmygrants come lopin' back,\nan' some un 'em didn't have rags nuff on 'em fer ter hide dere\nnakidness. You leave dat box right whar she is, an, let de 'oman\ntake wun young un an you take de udder wun, an' den you git in de\nmiddle er de big road an' pull out fer de place whar you come\nfum. I'm preachin' now.\"\n\nThose who watched say the quartet didn't take the cars.\n\n\nXII. AS A MURDERER\n\nUNCLE Remus met a police officer recently.\n\n\"You ain't hear talk er no dead nigger nowhar dis mawnin', is\nyou, boss?\" asked the old man earnestly.\n\n\"No,\" replied the policeman, reflectively. \"No, I believe not.\nHave you heard of any?\"\n\n\"'Pears unter me dat I come mighty nigh gittin' some news bout\ndat size, an' dat's w'at I'm a huntin' fer. Bekaze ef dey er\nfoun' a stray nigger layin' 'roun' loose, wid 'is bref gone, den\nI wanter go home an' git my brekfus' an' put on some clean cloze,\nan' 'liver myse'f up ter wunner deze yer jestesses er de peace,\nan git a fa'r trial.\"\n\n\"Why, have you killed anybody?\"\n\n\"Dat's w'at's I'm a 'quirin' inter now, but I wouldn't be\nsustonished ef I ain't laid a nigger out some'rs on de subbubs.\nHit's done got so it's agin de law fer ter bus' loose an' kill a\nnigger, ain't it, boss?\"\n\n\"Well, I should say so. You don't mean to tell me that you have\nkilled a colored man, do you?\"\n\n\"I speck I is, boss. I speck I done gone an' done it dis time,\nsho.' Hit's bin sorter growin' on me, an' it come ter a head dis\nmawnin', 'less my name ain't Remus, an' dat's w'at dey bin er\ncallin' me sence I wuz ole er 'nuff fer ter scratch myse'f wid my\nlef' han'.\"\n\n\"Well, if you've killed a man, you'll have some fun, sure enough.\nHow was it?\"\n\n\"Hit wuz dis way, boss: I wuz layin' in my bed dis mawnin' sorter\nruminatin' 'roun', when de fus news I know'd I year a fus' 'mong\nde chickens, an' den my brissels riz. I done had lots er trubble\nwid dem chickens, an' w'en I years wun un um squall my ve'y shoes\ncomes ontied. So I des sorter riz up an' retch fer my ole muskit,\nand den I crope out er de back do', an' w'atter you reckin I\nseed?\"\n\n\"I couldn't say.\"\n\n\"I seed de biggest, blackest nigger dat you ever laid eyes on. He\nshined like de paint on 'im was fresh. He hed done grabbed fo' er\nmy forwardes' pullets. I crope up nigh de do', an' hollered an'\naxed 'im how he wuz a gittin' on, an' den he broke, an' ez he\nbroke I jammed de gun in de small er his back and banged aloose.\nHe let a yell like forty yaller cats a courtin', an' den he\nbroke. You ain't seed no nigger hump hisse'f like dat nigger. He\ntore down de well shelter and fo' pannils er fence, an' de groun'\nlook like wunner deze yer harrycanes had lit dar and fanned up de\nyeath.\"\n\n\"Why, I thought you killed him?\"\n\n\"He bleedzed ter be dead, boss. Ain't I put de gun right on 'im?\nSeem like I feel 'im give way w'en she went off.\"\n\n\"Was the gun loaded?\"\n\n\"Dat's w'at my ole 'oman say. She had de powder in dar, sho', but\nI disremember wedder I put de buckshot in, er wedder I lef' um\nout. Leas'ways, I'm gwineter call on wunner deze yer jestesses.\nSo long, boss.\"\n\n\nXIII. HIS PRACTICAL VIEW OF THINGS\n\n\"BRER REMUS, is you heern tell er deze doin's out yer in de\nudder eend er town?\" asked a colored deacon of the church the\nother day.\n\n\"W'at doin's is dat, Brer Ab?\"\n\n\"Deze yer signs an' wunders whar dat cullud lady died day 'fo'\nyistiddy. Mighty quare goin's on out dar, Brer Remus, sho's you\nbawn.\"\n\n\"Sperrits?\" inquired Uncle Remus, sententiously.\n\n\"Wuss'n dat, Brer Remus. Some say dat jedgment day ain't fur off,\nan' de folks is flockin' 'roun' de house a hollerin' an' a-\nshoutin' des like dey wuz in er revival. In de winder glass dar\nyou kin see de flags a flyin', an' Jacob's lather is dar, an'\ndar's writin' on de pane w'at no man can't read--leas'wise dey\nain't none read it yit.\"\n\n\"W'at kinder racket is dis you er givin' un me now, Brer Ab?\"\n\n\"I done bin dar, Brer Remus; I done seed um wid bofe my eyes.\nCullud lady what wuz intranced done woke up an' say dey ain't\nmuch time fer ter tarry. She say she meet er angel in de road,\nan' he p'inted straight fer de mornin' star, an' tell her fer ter\nprepar'. Hit look mighty cu'us, Brer Remus.\"\n\n\"Cum down ter dat, Brer Ab,\" said Uncle Remus, wiping his\nspectacles carefully, and readjusting them--\"cum down ter dat,\nan' dey ain't nuthin' dat ain't cu'us. I ain't no spishus nigger\nmyse'f, but I 'spizes fer ter year dogs a howlin' an' squinch-\nowls havin' de agur out in de woods, an' w'en a bull goes a\nbellerin' by de house den my bones git col' an' my flesh\ncommences fer ter creep; but w'en it comes ter deze yer sines in\nde a'r an' deze yer sperrits in de woods, den I'm out--den I'm\ndone. I is, fer a fack. I bin livin' yer more'n seventy year, an'\nI year talk er niggers seein' ghos'es all times er night an' all\ntimes er day, but I ain't never seed none yit; an' deze yer flags\nan' Jacob's lathers, I ain't seed dem, nudder.\"\n\n\"Dey er dar, Brer Remus.\"\n\n\"Hit's des like I tell you, Brer Ab. I ain't 'sputin' 'bout it,\nbut I ain't seed um, an' I don't take no chances deze days on dat\nw'at I don't see, an' dat w'at I sees I got ter 'zamine mighty\nclose. Lemme tell you dis, Brer Ab: don't you let deze sines\nonsettle you. W'en old man Gabrile toot his ho'n, he ain't\ngwineter hang no sine out in de winder-panes, an when ole Fadder\nJacob lets down dat lather er his'n you'll be mighty ap' fer ter\nhear de racket. An' don't you bodder wid jedgment-day. Jedgment-\nday is lierbul fer ter take keer un itse'f.\"\n\n\"Dat's so, Brer Remus.\"\n\n\"Hit's bleedzed ter be so, Brer Ab. Hit don't bodder me. Hit's\ndone got so now dat w'en I gotter pone er bread, an' a rasher er\nbacon, an' nuff grease fer ter make gravy, I ain't keerin' much\nw'edder fokes sees ghos'es er no.\"\n\n\nXIV. THAT DECEITFUL JUG\n\nUNCLE REMUS was in good humor one evening recently when\nhe dropped casually into the editorial room of \"The\nConstitution,\" as has been his custom for the past year or two.\nHe had a bag slung across his shoulder, and in the bag was a jug.\nThe presence of this humble but useful vessel in Uncle Remus's\nbag was made the occasion for several suggestive jokes at his\nexpense by the members of the staff, but the old man's good humor\nwas proof against all insinuations.\n\n\"Dat ar jug's bin ter wah, mon. Hit's wunner deze yer ole timers.\nI got dat jug down dar in Putmon County w'en Mars 'Lisha Ferryman\nwuz a young man, an' now he's done growed up, an' got ole an'\ndied, an' his chilluns is growed up an' dey kin count dere\ngran'chilluns, an' yit dar's dat jug des ez lively an' ez lierbul\nfer ter kick up devilment ez w'at she wuz w'en she come fum de\nfoundry.\"\n\n\"That's the trouble,\" said one of the young men. \"That's the\nreason we'd like to know what's in it now.\n\n\"Now you er gittin' on ma'shy groun',\" replied Uncle Remus.\n\"Dat's de p'int. Dat's w'at make me say w'at I duz. I bin knowin'\ndat jug now gwine on sixty-fi' year, an' de jug w'at's more\nseetful dan dat jug ain't on de topside er de worrul. Dar she\nsets,\" continued the old man, gazing at it reflectively, \"dar she\nsets dez ez natchul ez er ambertype, an' yit whar's de man w'at\nkin tell w'at kinder confab she's a gwineter carry on w'en dat\ncorn-cob is snatched outen 'er mouf? Dat jug is mighty seetful,\nmon.\"\n\n\"Well, it don't deceive any of us up here,\" remarked the\nagricultural editor, dryly. \"We've seen jugs before.\"\n\n\"I boun' you is, boss; I boun' you is. But you ain't seed no\nseetful jug like dat. Dar she sets a bellyin' out an' lookin'\nmighty fat an' full, an' yit she'd set dar a bellyin' out ef dere\nwuzzent nuthin' but win' under dat stopper. You knows dat she\nain't got no aigs in her, ner no bacon, ner no grits, ner no\ntermartusses, ner no shellotes, an' dat's 'bout all you duz know.\nDog my cats ef de seetfulness er dat jug don't git away wid me,\"\ncontinued Uncle Remus, with a chuckle. \"I wuz comm' 'cross de\nbridge des now, an' Brer John Henry seed me wid de bag slung\nonter my back, an' de jug in it, an' he ups an' sez, sezee:\n\n\"'Heyo, Brer Remus, ain't it gittin' late for watermillions?'\n\n\"Hit wuz de seetfulness er dat jug. If Brer John Henry know'd de\ncolor er dat watermillion, I speck he'd snatch me up 'fo' de\nconfunce. I 'clar' ter grashus ef dat jug ain't a caution!\"\n\n\"I suppose it's full of molasses now,\" remarked one of the young\nmen, sarcastically.\n\n\"Hear dat!\" exclaimed Uncle Remus, triumphantly  \"hear dat! W'at\nI tell you? I sed dat jug wuz seetful, an' I sticks to it. I bin\nknowin' dat--\"\n\n\"What has it got in it?\" broke in some one; \"molasses, kerosene,\nor train-oil?\"\n\n\"Well, I lay she's loaded, boss. I ain't shuk her up sence I\ndrapt in, but I lay she's loaded.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the agricultural editor, \"and it's the meanest bug-\njuice in town--regular sorghum skimmings.\"\n\n\"Dat's needer yer ner dar,\" responded Uncle Remus. \"Po' fokes\nbetter be fixin' up for Chris'mus now w'ile rashuns is cheap.\nDat's me. W'en I year Miss Sally gwine 'bout de house w'isslin'\n'W'en I k'n read my titles cle'r--an' w'en I see de martins\nswawmin' atter sundown--an' w'en I year de peckerwoods confabbin'\ntogedder dese moonshiny nights in my een er town--en I knows de\nhot wedder's a breakin' up, an' I know it's 'bout time fer po'\nfokes fer ter be rastlin' 'roun' and huntin' up dere rashuns.\nDat's me, up an down.\"\n\n\"Well, we are satisfied. Better go and hire a hall,\" remarked the\nsporting editor, with a yawn. \"If you are engaged in a talking\nmatch you have won the money. Blanket him somebody, and take\nhim to the stable.\"\n\n\"An' w'at's mo',\" continued the old man, scorning to notice the\ninsinuation, \"dough I year Miss Sally w'isslin', an' de\npeckerwoods a chatterin', I ain't seein' none er deze yer loafin'\nniggers fixin' up fer ter 'migrate. Dey kin holler Kansas all\n'roun' de naberhood, but ceppin' a man come 'long an' spell it\nwid greenbacks, he don't ketch none er deze yer town niggers. You\nyear me, dey ain't gwine.\"\n\n\"Stand him up on the table,\" said the Sporting editor; \"give him\nroom.\"\n\n\"Better go down yer ter de calaboose, an' git some news fer ter\nprint,\" said Uncle Remus, with a touch of irony in his tone.\n\"Some new nigger mighter broke inter jail.\"\n\n\"You say the darkeys are not going to emigrate this year?\"\ninquired the agricultural editor, who is interested in these\nthings.\n\n\"Shoo! dat dey ain't! I done seed an' I knows.\"\n\n\"Well, how do you know?\"\n\n\"How you tell w'en crow gwineter light? Niggers bin prom'nadin'\nby my house all dis summer, holdin' dere heads high up an' de\nw'ites er dere eyeballs shinin' in de sun. Dey wuz too bigitty\nfer ter look over de gyardin' palm's. 'Long 'bout den de wedder\nwuz fetchin' de nat'al sperrits er turkentime outen de pine-trees\nan' de groun' wuz fa'rly smokin' wid de hotness. Now that it's\ngittin' sorter airish in de mornin's, dey don't 'pear like de\nsame niggers. Dey done got so dey'll look over in de yard, an'\nnex' news you know dey'll be tryin' fer ter scrape up 'quaintence\nwid de dog. W'en dey passes now dey looks at de chicken-coop an'\nat der tater-patch. W'en you see niggers gittin' dat familious,\nyou kin 'pen' on dere campin' wid you de ballunce er de season.\nDay 'fo' yistiddy I kotch one un um lookin' over de fence at my\nshoats, an' I sez, sez I:\n\n\"'Duz you wanter purchis dem hogs?'\n\n\"'Oh, no,' sezee, 'I wuz des lookin' at dere p'ints.'\n\n\"'Well, dey ain't p'intin' yo' way, sez I, 'an', fuddermo', ef\nyou don't bodder longer dem hogs dey ain't gwineter clime outer\ndat pen an' 'tack you, nudder,'\" sez I.\n\n\"An' I boun',\" continued Uncle Remus, driving the corn-cob\nstopper a little tighter in his deceitful jug and gathering up\nhis bag--\"an' I boun' dat my ole muskit 'll go off 'tween me an'\ndat same nigger yit, an' he'll be at de bad een', an' dis seetful\njug'll 'fuse ter go ter de funer'l.\"\n\n\nXV. THE FLORIDA WATERMELON\n\n\"LOOK yer, boy,\" said Uncle Remus yesterday, Stopping near the\nrailroad crossing on Whitehall Street, and gazing ferociously at\na small colored youth; \"look yer, boy, Ill lay you out flat ef\nyou come flingin' yo' watermillion rimes under my foot--you watch\nef I don't. You k'n play yo' pranks on deze yer w'ite fokes, but\nw'en you come a cuttin' up yo' capers roun me you 'll lan' right\nin de middle uv er spell er sickness--now you mine w'at I tell\nyou. An' I ain't gwine fer ter put up wid none er yo' sassness\nnudder--let 'lone flingin' watermillion rimes whar I kin git\nmixt up wid um. I done had nuff watermillions yistiddy an' de day\nbefo'.\"\n\n\"How was that, Uncle Remus?\" asked a gentleman standing near.\n\n\"Hit wuz sorter like dis, boss. Las' Chuseday, Mars John he fotch\nhome two er deze yer Flurridy watermillions, an him an' Miss\nSally sot down fer ter eat um. Mars John an' Miss Sally ain't got\nnuthin' dat's too good fer me, an' de fus news I know'd Miss\nSally wuz a hollerin' fer Remus. I done smelt de watermillion on\nde a'r, an' I ain't got no better sense dan fer ter go w'en I\nyears w'ite fokes a-hollerin'--I larnt dat w'en I wa'n't so high.\nLeas'ways I galloped up ter de back po'ch, an' dar sot de\nwatermillions dez ez natchul ez ef dey'd er bin raised on de ole\nSpivey place in Putmon County. Den Miss Sally, she cut me off er\nslishe--wunner deze yer ongodly slishes, big ez yo' hat, an' I\nsot down on de steps an' wrop myse'f roun' de whole blessid\nchunk, 'cep'in' de rime.\" Uncle Remus paused and laid his hand\nupon his stomach as if feeling for something.\n\n\"Well, old man, what then?\"\n\n\"Dat's w'at I'm a gittin' at, boss,\" said Uncle Remus, smiling a\nfeeble smile. \"I santered roun' 'bout er half nour, an den I\nbegin fer ter feel sorter squeemish--sorter like I done bin an,\nswoller'd 'bout fo' poun's off'n de ruff een' uv er scantlin'.\nLook like ter me dat I wuz gwineter be sick, an' den hit look\nlike I wuzzent. Bimeby a little pain showed 'is head an' sorter\nm'andered roun' like he wuz a lookin' fer a good place fer ter\nketch holt, an' den a great big pain jump up an' take atter de\nlittle one an' chase 'im 'roun' an' 'roun,' an' he mus' er kotch\n'im, kaze bimeby de big pain retch down an' grab dis yer lef'\nleg--so--an' haul 'im up, an' den he retch down an grab de udder\none an' pull him up, an' den de wah begun, sho nuff. Fer mighty\nnigh fo' hours dey kep' up dat racket, an' des ez soon ez a\nlittle pain 'ud jump up de big un 'ud light onter it an' gobble\nit up, an' den de big un 'ud go sailin' roun' huntin' fer mo'.\nSome fokes is mighty cu'us, dough. Nex' mornin' I hear Miss Sally\na laughin', an' singin' an' a w'isslin' des like dey want no\nwatermillions raise in Flurridy. But somebody better pen dis yer\nnigger boy up w'en I'm on de town--I kin tell you dat.\"\n\n\nXVI. UNCLE REMUS PREACHES TO A CONVERT\n\n\"DEY tells me you done jine de chu'ch,\" said Uncle Remus to\nPegleg Charley.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" responded Charley, gravely, \"dat's so.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm mighty glad er dat,\" remarked Uncle Remus, with\nunction. \"It's 'bout time dat I wuz spectin' fer ter hear un you\nin de chain-gang, an', stidder dat, hit's de chu'ch. Well, dey\nain't no tellin' deze days whar a nigger's gwineter lan'.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" responded Charley, straightening himself up and speaking\nin a dignified tone, \"yes, I'm fixin' to do better. I'm preparin'\nfer to shake worldliness. I'm done quit so'shatin' wid deze w'ite\ntown boys. Dey've been a goin' back on me too rapidly here\nlately, an' now I'm a goin' back on dem.\"\n\n\"Well, ef you done had de speunce un it, I'm mighty glad. Ef you\ngot 'lijjun, you better hol' on to it 'twel de las' day in de\nmornin'. Hit's mighty good fer ter kyar' 'roun' wid you in de day\ntime an' likewise in de night time. Hit'll pay you mo' dan\npolitics, an' ef you stan's up like you oughter, hit'll las'\nlonger dan a bone-fellum. But you wanter have one er deze yer\nole-time grips, an' you des gotter shet yo' eyes an' swing on\nlike wunner deze yer bull-tarrier dogs.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm goin' to stick, Uncle Remus. You kin put your money on\ndat. Deze town boys can't play no more uv dere games on me. I'm\nfixed. Can't you lend me a dime, Uncle Remus, to buy me a pie?\nI'm dat hongry dat my stomach is gittin' ready to go in mo'nin.\"\n\nUncle Remus eyed Charley curiously a moment, while the latter\nlooked quietly at his timber toe. Finally, the old man sighed and\nspoke:\n\n\"How long is you bin in de chu'ch, son?\"\n\n\"Mighty near a week,\" replied Charley.\n\n\"Well, lemme tell you dis, now, 'fo' you go enny fudder. You ain't\nbin in dar long nuff fer ter go 'roun' takin' up conterbutions.\nWait ontwell you gits sorter seasoned like, an' den I'll hunt\n'roun' in my cloze an' see ef I can't run out a thrip er two fer\nyou. But don't you levy taxes too early.\"\n\nCharley laughed, and said he would let the old man off if he\nwould treat to a watermelon.\n\n\nXVII. AS TO EDUCATION\n\nAs Uncle Remus came up Whitehall Street recently, he met a little\ncolored boy carrying a slate and a number of books. Some words\npassed between them, but their exact purport will probably never\nbe known. They were unpleasant, for the attention of a wandering\npoliceman was called to the matter by hearing the old man bawl\nout:\n\n\"Don't you come foolin' longer me, nigger. You er flippin' yo'\nsass at de wrong color. You k'n go roun' yer an' sass deze w'ite\npeople, an' maybe dey'll stan' it, but w'en you come a-slingin'\nyo' jaw at a man w'at wuz gray w'en de fahmin' days gin out, you\nbetter go an' git yo' hide greased.\"\n\n\"What's the matter, old man?\" asked a sympathizing policeman.\n\n\"Nothin', boss, 'ceppin I ain't gwineter hav' no nigger chillun a\nhoopin' an' a hollerin' at me w'en I'm gwine long de streets.\"\n\n\"Oh, well, school-children--you know how they are.\n\n\"Dat's w'at make I say w'at I duz. Dey better be home pickin' up\nchips. W'at a nigger gwineter larn outen books? I kin take a\nbar'l stave an' fling mo' sense inter a nigger in one minnit dan\nall de schoolhouses betwixt dis en de State er Midgigin. Don't\ntalk, honey! Wid one bar'l stave I kin fa'rly lif' de vail er\nignunce.\"\n\n\"Then you don't believe in education?\"\n\n\"Hit's de ruinashun er dis country. Look at my gal. De ole 'oman\nsont 'er ter school las' year, an' now we dassent hardly ax 'er\nfer ter kyar de washin' home. She done got beyant 'er bizness. I\nain't larnt nuthin' in books, 'en yit I kin count all de money I\ngits. No use talkin', boss. Put a spellin'-book in a nigger's\nhan's, en right den en dar' you loozes a plow-hand. I done had de\nspeunce un it.\"\n\n\nXVIII. A TEMPERANCE REFORMER\n\n\"Yer come Uncle Remus,\" said a well-dressed negro, who was\nstanding on the sidewalk near James's bank recently, talking to a\ncrowd of barbers. \"Yer come Uncle Remus. I boun' he'll sign it.\"\n\n\"You'll fling yo' money away ef you bet on it,\" responded Uncle\nRemus. \"I ain't turnin' nothin' loose on chu'ch 'scriptions. I\nwants money right now fer ter git a pint er meal.\"\n\n'Tain't dat.\"\n\n\"An' I ain't heppin fer ter berry nobody. Much's I kin do ter\nkeep de bref in my own body.\"\n\n\"'Tain't dat, nudder.\"\n\n\"An' I ain't puttin' my han' ter no reckommends. I'm fear'd fer\nter say a perlite wud 'bout myself, an' I des know I ain't gwine\n'roun' flatter'n up deze udder niggers.\"\n\n\"An' 'tain't dat,\" responded the darkey, who held a paper in his\nhand. \"We er gittin' up a Good Tempeler's lodge, an' we like ter\ngit yo' name.\"\n\n\"Eh-eh, honey! I done see too much er dis nigger tempunce. Dey\nstan' up mighty squar' ontwell dere dues commence ter cramp um,\nan' dey don't stan' de racket wuf a durn. No longer'n yistiddy I\nseed one er de head men er one er dese Tempeler's s'cieties\ntotin' water fer a bar-room. He had de water in a bucket, but dey\nain't no tellin' how much red licker he wuz a totin'. G'long,\nchile--jine yo' s'ciety an' be good ter yo'se'f. I'm a gittin'\ntoo ole. Gimme th'ee er fo' drams endurin' er de day, an' I'm\nmighty nigh ez good a tempunce man ez de next un. I got ter\nscuffle fer sump'n t'eat.\"\n\n\nXIX. AS A WEATHER PROPHET\n\nUNCLE REMUS was enlightening a crowd of negroes at the car-shed\nyesterday.\n\n\"Dar ain't nuthin',\" said the old man, shaking his head\npensively, \"dat ain't got no change wrote on it. Dar ain't nothin\ndat ain't spotted befo' hit begins fer ter commence. We all\nspeunces dat p'overdence w'at lifts us up fum one place an' sets\nus down in de udder. Hit's continerly a movin' an a movin'.\"\n\n\"Dat's so!\" \"You er talkin' now!\" came from several of his\nhearers.\n\n\"I year Miss Sally readin' dis mawnin,\" continued the old man,\n\"dat a man wuz comin' down yer fer ter take keer er de wedder--\nwunner deze yer Buro mens w'at goes 'roun' a puttin' up an'\npullin' down.\"\n\n\"W'at he gwine do 'roun' yer?\" asked one.\n\n\"He's a gwineter regelate de wedder,\" replied Uncle Remus,\nsententiously. \"He's a gwineter fix hit up so dat dere won't be\nso much worriment 'mong de w'ite fokes 'bout de kinder wedder\nw'at falls to dere lot.\"\n\n\"He gwine dish em up,\" suggested one of the older ones, \"like man\ndish out sugar.\n\n\"No,\" answered Uncle Remus, mopping his benign features with a\nvery large and very red bandana. \"He's a gwineter fix um better'n\ndat. He's a gwineter fix um up so you kin have any kinder wedder\nw'at you want widout totin' her home.\"\n\n\"How's dat?\" asked some one.\n\n\"Hit's dis way,\" said the old man, thoughtfully. \"In co'se you\nknows w'at kinder wedder you wants. Well, den, w'en de man comes\nlong, w'ich Miss Sally say he will, you des gotter go up dar,\npick out yo' wedder an' dere'll be a clock sot fer ter suit yo'\ncase, an' w'en you git home, dere'll be yo' wedder a settin' out\nin de yard waitin' fer you. I wish he wuz yer now,\" the old man\ncontinued. \"I'd take a pa'r er frosts in mine, ef I kotched cold\nfer it. Dat's me!\"\n\nThere were various exclamations of assent, and the old man went\non his way singing, \"Don't you Grieve Atter Me.\"\n\n\nXX. THE OLD MAN'S TROUBLES\n\n\"WHAT makes you look so lonesome, Brer Remus?\" asked a well-\ndressed negro, as the old man came shuffling down the street\nby James's corner yesterday.\n\n\"You er mighty right, I'm lonesome, Brer John Henry. W'en a ole\nnigger like me is gotter paddle de canoe an' do de fishin' at de\nsame time, an' w'en you bleedzd ter ketch de fish an' dassent\nturn de paddle loose fer ter bait de hook, den I tell you, Brer\nJohn, you er right whar de mink had de goslin'. Mars John and\nMiss Sally, dey done bin gone down unto Putmon County fer ter see\nder kinfolks mighty nigh fo' days, an' you better bleeve I done\nbin had ter scratch 'roun' mighty lively fer ter make de rashuns\nrun out even.\n\n\"I wuz at yo' house las' night, Brer Remus,\" remarked Brer John\nHenry, \"but I couldn't roust you outer bed.\"\n\n\"Hit was de unseasonableness er de hour, I speck,\" said Uncle\nRemus, dryly. \"'Pears unto me dat you all chu'ch deacons settin'\nup mighty late deze col' nights. You'll be slippin' round arter\nhours some time er nudder, an you'll slip bodaciously inter de\ncalaboose. You mine w'at I tell you.\"\n\n\"It's mighty col' wedder,\" said Brer John Henry, evidently\nwishing to change the subject.\n\n\"Col'!\" exclaimed Uncle Remus; \"hit got pas' col' on der quarter\nstretch. You oughter come to my house night 'fo' las'. Den you'd\na foun' me 'live an' kickin'.\"\n\n\"How's dat?\"\n\n\"Well, I tell you, Brer John Henry, de col' wuz so col', an' de\nkiver wuz so light, dat I thunk I'd make a raid on Mars John's\nshingle pile, an' out I goes an totes in a whole armful. Den I\ngits under de kiver an' tells my ole 'oman fer ter lay 'em onto\nme like she was roofin' a house. Bimeby she crawls in, an' de\nshingles w'at she put on her side fer ter kiver wid, dey all drap\noff on de flo'. Den up I gits an' piles 'em on agin, an' w'en I\ngits in bed my shingles draps off, an' dat's de way it wuz de\nwhole blessid night. Fus' it wuz me up an' den de ole 'oman, an'\nit kep' us pow'ful warm, too, dat kinder exercise. Oh, you\noughter drapt roun' 'bout  dat time, Brer John Henry. You'd a\nyear'd sho' nuff cussin'!\"\n\n\"You don't tell me, Brer Remus!\"\n\n\"My ole 'oman say de Ole Boy wouldn't a foun' a riper nigger, ef\nhe wer' ter scour de country fum Ferginny ter de Alabam'\"\n\n\nXXI. THE FOURTH OF JULY\n\nUNCLE REMUS made his appearance recently with his right arm in a\nsling and his head bandaged to that extent that it looked like\nthe stick made to accompany the Centennial bass-drum. The old\nman evidently expected an attack all around, for he was unusually\nquiet, and fumbled in his pockets in an embarrassed manner. He\nwas not mistaken. The agricultural editor was the first to open\nfire:\n\n\"Well, you old villain! what have you been up to now?\"\n\n\"It is really singular,\" remarked a commencement orator, \"that\nnot even an ordinary holiday--a holiday, it seems to me, that\nought to arouse all the latent instincts of patriotism in the\nbosom of American citizens--can occur without embroiling some of\nour most valuable citizens. It is really singular to me that such\na day should be devoted by a certain class of our population to\nbroils and fisticuffs.\"\n\nThis final moral sentiment, which was altogether an impromptu\nutterance, and which was delivered with the air of one who\naddresses a vast but invisible audience of young ladies in white\ndresses and blue sashes, seemed to add to the embarrassment of\nUncle Remus, and at the same time to make an explanation\nnecessary.\n\n\"Dey ain't none er you young w'ite men never had no 'casion fer\nter strike up wid one er deze Mobile niggers?\" asked Uncle Remus.\n\"'Kaze ef you iz, den you knows wharbouts de devilment come in.\nShow me a Mobile nigger,\" continued the old man, an I'll show\nyou a nigger dat's marked for de chain-gang. Hit may be de fote\ner de fif' er July, er hit may be de twelf' er Jinawerry, but\nw'en a Mobile nigger gits in my naberhood right den an' dar\ntrubble sails in an' 'gages bode fer de season. I speck I'm ez\nfon' er deze Nunited States ez de nex' man w'at knows dat de Buro\nis busted up; but long ez Remus kin stan' on his hin' legs no\nMobile nigger can't flip inter dis town longer no Wes' P'int\n'schushun an' boss 'roun' 'mong de cullud fokes. Dat's me, up an'\ndown, an' I boun' dere's a nigger some'rs on de road dis blessid\nday dat's got dis put away in his 'membunce.\"\n\n\"How did he happen to get you down and maul you in this\nstartling manner?\" asked the commencement orator, with a tone\nof exaggerated sympathy in his voice.\n\n\"Maul who?\" exclaimed Uncle Remus, indignantly. \"Maul who? Boss,\nde nigger dat mauled me ain't bo'nded yit, an' dey er got ter\nhave anudder war 'fo one is bo'nded.\"\n\n\"Well, what was the trouble?\"\n\n\"Hit wuz sorter dis way, boss. I wuz stannin' down dere by Mars\nJohn Jeems's bank, chattin' wid Sis Tempy, w'ich I ain't seed 'er\nbefo' now gwine on seven year, an' watchin' de folks trompin' by,\nw'en one er deze yer slick-lookin' niggers, wid a bee-gum hat an'\na brass watch ez big ez de head uv a beerbar'l, come long an'\nbresh up agin me--so. Dere wuz two un um, an' dey went long\ngigglin' an' laffin' like a nes'ful er yaller-hammers. Bimeby dey\ncome long agin an' de smart Ellick brush up by me once mo'. Den I\nsay to myse'f, 'I lay I fetch you ef you gimme anudder invite.'\nAn', sho' 'nuff, yer he come agin, an' dis time he rub a piece er\nwatermillion rime under my lef' year.\"\n\n\"What did you do?\"\n\n\"Me? I'm a mighty long-sufferin' nigger, but he hadn't no mo'n\ntotch me 'fo' I flung dese yer bones in his face.\" Here Uncle\nRemus held up his damaged hand triumphantly. \"I sorter sprained\nmy han', boss, but dog my cats if I don't bleeve I spattered de\nnigger's eyeballs on de groun', and w'en he riz his count'nence\nlook fresh like beef-haslett. I look mighty spindlin' an' puny\nnow, don't I, boss?\" inquired the old man, with great apparent\nearnestness.\n\n\"Rather.\"\n\n\"Well, you des oughter see me git my Affikin up. Dey useter call\nme er bad nigger long 'fo' de war, an hit looks like ter me dat I\ngits wuss an' wuss. Brer John Henry say dat I oughter subdue my\nrashfulness, an' I don't 'spute it, but tu'n a Mobile nigger\nloose in dis town, fote er July or no fote er July, an', me er\nhim, one is got ter lan' in jail. Hit's proned inter me.\"","title":"Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":53942}