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by Unknown

JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.

(“UNCLE REMUS.”)

OEL CHANDLER HARRIS has called himself “an accidental author,” for while living on a plantation as a typesetter on a country newspaper he became familiar with the curious myths and animal stories of the negroes, and some time in the seventies he printed a magazine article on these folk-lore stories, giving at the same time some of the stories as illustration.

This article attracted attention and revealed to the writer the fact that the stories had a decided literary value, and his main literary work has been the elaboration of these myths.

The stories of “Uncle Remus” are, as almost everyone knows, not creations of the author’s fancy, but they are genuine folk-lore tales of the negroes, and strangely enough many of these stories are found in varying forms among the American Indians, among the Indians along the Amazon and in Brazil, and they are even found in India and Siam, which fact has called out learned discussions of the origin and antiquity of the stories and the possible connection of the races.

Our author was born in Eatonton, a little village in Georgia, December 9, 1848, in very humble circumstances. He was remarkably impressed, while still very young, with the “Vicar of Wakefield,” and he straightway began to compose little tales of his own.

In 1862 he went to the office of the “Countryman,” a rural weekly paper in Georgia, to learn typesetting. It was edited and published on a large plantation, and the negroes of this and the adjoining plantations furnished him with the material out of which the “Uncle Remus” stories came.

While learning to set type the young apprentice occasionally tried his hand at composing, and not infrequently he slipped into the “Countryman” a little article, composed and printed, without ever having been put in manuscript form.

The publication of an article on the folk-lore of the negroes in “Lippincott’s Magazine” was the beginning of his literary career, and the interest this awakened stimulated him to develop these curious animal stories.

Many of the stories were first printed as articles in the Atlanta “Constitution,” and it was soon seen by students of myth-literature that these stories were very significant and important in their bearing on general mythology.

For the child they have a charm and an interest as “good stories,” and they are told with rare skill and power, but for the student of ethnology they have special value as throwing some light on the probable relation of the negroes with other races which tell similar folk-tales.

Mr. Harris has studied and pursued the profession of law, though he has now for many years been one of the editors of the Atlanta “Constitution,” for which many of his contributions have been originally written.

He is also a frequent contributor both of prose and poetry to current literature, and he is the author of the following books: “Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings; the Folk-lore of the Old Plantation” (New York, 1880), “Nights With Uncle Remus” (Boston, 1883), “Mingo and Other Sketches” (1883).

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MR. RABBIT, MR. FOX, AND MR. BUZZARD.[¹]

(FROM “UNCLE REMUS.”)

[¹] Copyright, George Routledge & Sons.

NE evening when the little boy whose nights with Uncle Remus are as entertaining as those Arabian ones of blessed memory, had finished supper and hurried out to sit with his venerable patron, he found the old man in great glee. Indeed, Uncle Remus was talking and laughing to himself at such a rate that the little boy was afraid he had company. The truth is, Uncle Remus had heard the child coming, and when the rosy-cheeked chap put his head in at the door, was engaged in a monologue, the burden of which seemed to be—

“Ole Molly Har’,

W’at you doin’ dar,

Settin’ in de cornder

Smokin’ yo’ seegyar?”

As a matter of course this vague allusion reminded the little boy of the fact that the wicked Fox was still in pursuit of the Rabbit, and he immediately put his curiosity in the shape of a question.

“Uncle Remus, did the Rabbit have to go clean away when he got loose from the Tar-Baby?”

“Bless grashus, honey, dat he didn’t. Who? Him? You dunno nuthin’ ’tall ’bout Brer Rabbit ef dat’s de way you puttin’ ’im down. Wat he gwine ’way fer? He mouter stayed sorter close twel the pitch rub off’n his ha’r, but twern’t menny days ’fo’ he wuz loping up en down de naberhood same as ever, en I dunno ef he wern’t mo’ sassier dan befo’.

“Seem like dat de tale ’bout how he got mixt up wid de Tar-Baby got ’roun’ mongst de nabers. Leas’ways, Miss Meadows en de girls got win’ un’ it, en de nex’ time Brer Rabbit paid um a visit, Miss Meadows tackled ’im ’bout it, en de gals sot up a monstus gigglement. Brer Rabbit, he sot up des ez cool ez a cowcumber, he did, en let ’em run on.”

“Who was Miss Meadows, Uncle Remus?” inquired the little boy.

“Don’t ax me, honey. She wuz in de tale, Miss Meadows en de gals wuz, en de tale I give you like hi’t wer’ gun ter me. Brer Rabbit, he sot dar, he did, sorter lam’ like, en den bimeby he cross his legs, he did, and wink his eye slow, en up en say, sezee:

“‘Ladies, Brer Fox wuz my daddy’s ridin’-hoss for thirty year; maybe mo’, but thirty year dat I knows un,’ sezee; en den he paid um his specks, en tip his beaver, en march off, he did, dez ez stiff en ez stuck up ez a fire-stick.

“Nex’ day, Brer Fox cum a callin’, and w’en he gun fer to laff ’bout Brer Rabbit, Miss Meadows en de gals, dey ups and tells im ’bout w’at Brer Rabbit say. Den Brer Fox grit his toof sho’ nuff, he did, en he look mighty dumpy, but when he riz fer to go he up en say, sezee;

“‘Ladies, I ain’t ’sputing w’at you say, but I’ll make Brer Rabbit chaw up his words en spit um out right yer whar you kin see ’im,’ sezee, en wid dat off Brer Fox marcht.

“En w’en he got in de big road, he shuck de dew off’n his tail, en made a straight shoot fer Brer Rabbit’s house. W’en he got dar, Brer Rabbit wuz spectin’ un him, en de do’ wuz shut fas’. Brer Fox knock. Nobody ain’t ans’er. Brer Fox knock. Nobody ans’er. Den he knock agin—blam! blam! Den Brer Rabbit holler out, mighty weak:

“‘Is dat you, Brer Fox? I want you ter run en fetch de doctor. Dat bit er parsley w’at I e’t dis mawnin’ is gittin’ ’way wid me. Do, please, Brer Fox, run quick,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“‘I come atter you, Brer Rabbit,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee. ‘Dere’s gwinter be a party up at Miss Meadow’s,’ sezee. ‘All de gals’ll be dere, en I promus’ dat I’d fetch you. De gals, dey ’lowed dat hit wouldn’t be no party ’ceppin I fotch you,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

“Den Brer Rabbit say he wuz too sick, en Brer Fox say he wuzzent, en dar dey had it up and down sputin’ en contendin’. Brer Rabbit say he can’t walk. Brer Fox say he tote ’im. Brer Rabbit say how? Brer Fox say in his arms. Brer Rabbit say he drap ’im. Brer Fox ’low he won’t. Bimeby Brer Rabbit say he go ef Brer Fox tote ’im on his back. Brer Fox say he would. Brer Rabbit say he can’t ride widout a saddle. Brer Fox say he git de saddle. Brer Rabbit say he can’t set in saddle less he have a bridle for to hol’ by. Brer Fox say he git de bridle. Brer Rabbit say he can’t ride widout bline bridle, kaze Brer Fox be shyin’ at stumps ’long de road, en fling ’im off. Brer Fox say he git bline bridle. Den Brer Rabbit say he go. Den Brer Fox say he ride Brer Rabbit mos’ up to Miss Meadows’s, en den he could git down en walk de balance ob de way. Brer Rabbit ’greed, en den Brer Fox lipt out atter de saddle en de bridle.

“Co’se Brer Rabbit know de game dat Brer Fox wuz fixin’ fer ter play, en he ’termin’ fer ter out-do ’im; en by de time he koam his h’ar en twis’ his mustarsh, en sorter rig up, yer come Brer Fox, saddle and bridle on, en lookin’ ez peart ez a circus pony. He trot up ter de do’ en stan’ dar pawin’ de ground en chompin’ de bit same like sho’ nuff hos, en Brer Rabbit he mount, he did, en day amble off. Brer Fox can’t see behime wid de bline bridle on, but bimeby he feel Brer Rabbit raise one er his foots.

“‘W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?’ sezee.

“‘Short ain’ de lef stir’p, Brer Fox,’ sezee.

“Bimeby Brer Rabbit raise de udder foot.

“‘W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?’ sezee.

“‘Pullin’ down my pants, Brer Fox,’ sezee.

“All de time, bless grashus, honey, Brer Rabbit was puttin’ on his spurrers, en w’en dey got close to Miss Meadows’s, whar Brer Rabbit wuz to git off en Brer Fox made a motion fer ter stan’ still, Brer Rabbit slap the spurrers inter Brer Fox flanks, en you better b’lieve he got over groun’. W’en dey got ter de house, Miss Meadows en all de girls wuz settin’ on de peazzer, en stidder stoppin’ at de gate Brer Rabbit rid on by, he did, en den come gallopin’ down de road en up ter de hoss-rack, w’ich he hitch Brer Fox at, en den he santer inter de house, he did, en shake han’s wid de gals, en set dar, smokin’ his seegyar same ez a town man. Bimeby he draw in long puff, en den let hit out in a cloud, en squar hisse’f back, en holler out, he did:

“‘Ladies, ain’t I done tell you Brer Fox wuz de ridin hoss fer our fambly? He sorter losin’ his gait now, but I speck I kin fetch ’im all right in a mont’ or so,’ sezee.

“En den Brer Rabbit sorter grin, he did, en de gals giggle, en Miss Meadows, she praise up de pony, en dar wuz Brer Fox hitch fas’ ter de rack, en couldn’t he’p hisse’f.”

“Is that all, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy, as the old man paused.

“Dat ain’t all, honey, but ’twont do fer to give out too much cloff for ter cut one pa’r pants,” replied the old man sententiously.

When “Miss Sally’s” little boy went to Uncle Remus the next night, he found the old man in a bad humor.

“I ain’t tellin’ no tales ter bad chilluns,” said Uncle Remus curtly.

“But, Uncle Remus, I ain’t bad,” said the little boy plaintively.

“Who dat chunkin’ dem chickens dis mawnin’? Who dat knockin’ out fokes’s eyes wid dat Yaller-bammer sling des ’fo’ dinner? Who dat sickin’ dat pinter puppy atter my pig? Who dat scatterin’ my ingun sets? Who dat flingin’ rocks on top er my house, w’ich a little mo’ en one un em would er drap spang on my head!”

“Well, now, Uncle Remus, I didn’t go to do it. I won’t do so any more. Please, Uncle Remus, if you will tell me, I’ll run to the house, and bring you some tea-cakes.”

“Seein’ um’s better’n hearin’ tell un em,” replied the old man, the severity of his countenance relaxing somewhat; but the little boy darted out, and in a few minutes came running back with his pockets full and his hands full.

“I lay yo’ mammy’ll ’spishun dat de rats’ stummucks is widenin’ in dis naberhood w’en she come fer ter count up ’er cakes,” said Uncle Remus, with a chuckle.

“Lemme see. I mos’ dis’member wharbouts Brer Fox and Brer Rabbit wuz.”

“The rabbit rode the Fox to Miss Meadows’s and hitched him to the horse-rack,” said the little boy.

“Why co’se he did,” said Uncle Remus. “Co’se he did. Well, Brer Rabbit rid Brer Fox up, he did, en tied ’im to de rack, en den sot out in the peazzer wid de gals a smokin’ er his seegyar wid mo’ proudness dan w’at you mos’ ever see. Dey talk, en dey sing, en dey play on de peanner, de gals did, twel bimeby hit come time for Brer Rabbit fer to be gwine, en he tell um all good-by, en strut out to de hoss-rack same’s ef he was de king er der patter-rollers, en den he mount Brer Fox en ride off.

“Brer Fox ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ ’tall. He des rack off, he did, en keep his mouf shet, en Brer Rabbit know’d der wuz bizness cookin’ up fer him, en he feel monstous skittish. Brer Fox amble on twel he git in de long lane, outer sight er Miss Meadows’s house, en den he tu’n loose, he did. He rip en he r’ar, en he cuss en he swar; he snort en he cavort.”

“What was he doing that for. Uncle Remus?” the little boy inquired.

“He wuz tryin’ fer ter fling Brer Rabbit off’n his back, bless yo’ soul! But he des might ez well er rastle wid his own shadder. Every time he hump hisse’f Brer Rabbit slap de spurrers in ’im, en dar dey had it up en down. Brer Fox fa’rly to’ up de groun’, he did, en he jump so high en he jump so quick, dat he mighty nigh snatch his own tail off. Dey kep’ on gwine on dis way twel bimeby Brer Fox lay down en roll over, he did, en dis sorter unsettle Brer Rabbit, but by de time Brer Fox got en his footses agin, Brer Rabbit wuz gwine thoo de underbresh mo’ samer dan a race hoss. Brer Fox, he lit out atter ’im, he did, en he push Brer Rabbit so close, dat it wuz ’bout all he could do fer ter git in a holler tree. Hole too little fer Brer Fox fer to git in, en he hatter lay down en res’ en gadder his mine tergedder.

“While he wuz layin’ dar, Mr. Buzzard come floppin long, en seein’ Brer Fox stretch out on the groun’, he lit en view the premusses. Den Mr. Buzzard sorter shake his wing, en put his head on one side, en say to hisse’f like, sezee:

“‘Brer Fox dead, en I so sorry,’ sezee.

“‘No I ain’t dead, nudder,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee. ‘I got ole man Rabbit pent up in yer,’ sezee, ’en I’m gwineter git ’im dis time, ef it take twel Chris’mus,’ sezee.

“Den, atter some mo’ palaver, Brer Fox make a bargain dat Mr. Buzzard wuz ter watch de hole, en keep Brer Rabbit dar wiles Brer Fox went atter his axe. Den Brer Fox, he lope off, he did, en Mr. Buzzard, he tuck up his stan’ at de hole. Bimeby, w’en all get still, Brer Rabbit sorter scramble down close ter de hole, he did, en holler out:

“‘Brer Fox! Oh! Brer Fox!’

“Brer Fox done gone, en nobody say nuthin.’ Den Brer Rabbit squall out like he wuz mad:

“‘You needn’t talk less you wanter,’ sezee; ‘I knows youer dar, an I ain’t keerin’, sezee. ‘I dez wanter tell you dat I wish mighty bad Brer Tukkey Buzzard was here,’ sezee.

“Den Mr. Buzzard try to talk like Brer Fox:

“‘Wat you want wid Mr. Buzzard?’ sezee.

“‘Oh, nuthin’ in ’tickler, ’cep’ dere’s de fattes’ gray squir’l in yer dat ever I see,’ sezee, ‘en ef Brer Tukkey Buzzard was ’roun’ he’d be mighty glad fer ter git ’im,’ sezee.

“‘How Mr. Buzzard gwine ter git him?’ sez de Buzzard, sezee.

“‘Well, dar’s a little hole, roun’ on de udder side er de tree,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘en ef Brer Tukkey Buzzard was here so he could take up his stan’ dar’, sezee, ‘I’d drive dat squir’l out,’ sezee.

“‘Drive ’im out, den,’ sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee, ‘en I’ll see dat Brer Tukkey Buzzard gits’ ’im,’ sezee.

“Den Brer Rabbit kick up a racket, like he wer’ drivin’ sumpin’ out, en Mr. Buzzard he rush ’roun’ fer ter ketch de squir’l, en Brer Rabbit, he dash out, he did, en he des fly fer home.

“Well, Mr. Buzzard he feel mighty lonesome, he did, but he done prommust Brer [♦]Fox dat he’d stay, en he termin’ fer ter sorter hang ’roun’ en jine in de joke. En he ain’t hatter wait long, nudder, kase bimeby yer come Brer Fox gallopin’ thoo de woods wid his axe on his shoulder.

[♦] ‘Eox’ replaced with ‘Fox’

“‘How you speck Brer Rabbit gittin’ on, Brer Buzzard?’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

“‘Oh, he in dar,’ sez Brer Buzzard, sezee. ‘He mighty still, dough. I speck he takin’ a nap,’ sezee.

“‘Den I’m des in time fer te wake ’im up,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee. En wid dat he fling off his coat, en spit in his han’s, en grab de axe. Den he draw back en come down on de tree—pow! En eve’y time he come down wid de axe—pow!—Mr. Buzzard, he step high, he did, en hollar out:

“‘Oh, he in dar, Brer Fox. He in dar, sho.’

“En eve’y time a chip ud fly off, Mr. Buzzard, he’d jump, en dodge, en hole his head sideways, he would, en holler:

“‘He in dar, Brer Fox. I done heerd ’im. He in dar, sho.’

“En Brer Fox, he lammed away at dat holler tree, he did, like a man mauling’ rails, twel bimeby atter he done got de tree most’ cut thoo, he stop fer ter ketch his bref, en he seed Mr. Buzzard laffin’ behind his back, he did, en right den en dar, widout gwine enny fudder, Brer Fox he smelt a rat. But Mr. Buzzard, he keep on holler’n:

“‘He in dar, Brer Fox. He in dar, sho. I done seed ’im.’

“Den Brer Fox, he make like he peepin’ up de holler, en he say, sezee:

“‘Run yer, Brer Buzzard, en look ef dis ain’t Brer Rabbit’s foot hanging down yer.’

“En Mr. Buzzard, he come steppin’ up, he did, same ez ef he were treddin’ on kurkle-burrs, en he stick his head in de hole; en no sooner did he done dat dan Brer Fox grab ’im. Mr. Buzzard flap his wings, en scramble roun’ right smartually, he did, but ’twan no use. Brer Fox had de ’vantage er de grip, he did, en he hilt ’im right down ter de groun’. Den Mr. Buzzard squall out, sezee:

“‘Lemme ’lone, Brer Fox. Tu’n me loose,’ sezee; ‘Brer Rabbit’ll git out. Youer gittin’ close at ’im,’ sezee, ‘en leb’m mo’ licks’ll fetch ’im,’ sezee.

“‘I’m nigher ter you, Brer Buzzard,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ‘dan I’ll be ter Brer Rabbit dis day,’ sezee. ‘Wat you fool me fer?’ sezee.

“‘Lemme ’lone, Brer Fox,’ sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee; ‘my ole ’oman waitin’ for me. Brer Rabbit in dar,’ sezee.

“‘Dar’s a bunch er his fur on dat black-be’y bush,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ‘en dat ain’t de way he come,’ sezee.

“Den Mr. Buzzard up’n tell Brer Fox how ’twuz, en he low’d, Mr. Buzzard did, dat Brer Rabbit wuz de low-downest w’atsizname w’at he ever run up wid. Den Brer Fox say, sezee:

“‘Dat’s needer here ner dar, Brer Buzzard,’ sezee. ‘I lef’ you yer fer ter watch dish yer hole en I lef’ Brer Rabbit in dar. I comes back en I fines you at de hole, en Brer Rabbit ain’t in dar,’ sezee. ‘I’m gwinter make you pay fer’t. I done bin tampered wid twel plum down ter de sap sucker’ll set on a log en sassy me. I’m gwinter fling you in a bresh-heap en burn you up,’ sezee.

“‘Ef you fling me on der fier, Brer Fox, I’ll fly ’way,’ sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee.

“‘Well, den, I’ll settle yo’ hash right now,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, en wid dat he grab Mr. Buzzard by de tail, he did, en make fer ter dash ’im ’gin de groun’, but des ’bout dat time de tail fedders come out, en Mr. Buzzard sail off like wunner dese yer berloons, en ez he riz, he holler back:

“‘You gimme good start, Brer Fox,’ sezee, en Brer Fox sot dar en watch ’im fly outer sight.”

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