Told by Uncle Remus: New Stories of the Old Plantation

by Joel Chandler Harris

“Why, of course he didn’t have a tail!” exclaimed the child. “Neither toad-frogs nor bull-frogs have tails. I thought everybody knew that.”

“Oh, well, ef dat de way you feel ’bout um, ’tain’t no use fer ter pester wid um. It done got so now dat folks don’t b’lieve nothin’ but what dey kin see, an’ mo’ dan half un um won’t b’lieve what dey see less ’n dey kin feel un it too. But dat ain’t de way wid dem what’s ol’ ’nough fer ter know. Ef I’d ’a’ tol’ you ’bout de fishes swimmin’ ag’in fallin’ water, you wouldn’t ’a’ b’lieved me, would you? No, you wouldn’t—an’ yit, dar ’twuz right ’fo’ yo’ face an’ eyes. Dar dey wuz a-skeetin’ fum de bottom er de dam right up in de mill-pon’, an’ you settin’ dar lookin’ at um. S’posin’ you wuz ter say dat you won’t b’lieve um less’n you kin feel um; does you speck de fish gwineter hang dar in de fallin’ water an’ wait twel you kin wade ’cross de slipp’y rocks an’ put yo’ han’ on um? Did you look right close fer ter see ef de bull-frog what you seed is got a tail er no?”

The little boy admitted that he had not. He knew as well as anybody that no kind of a frog has a tail, unless it is the Texas frog, which is only a horned lizard, for he saw one once in Atlanta, and it was nothing but a rusty-back lizard with a horn on his head.

“I ain’t ’sputin’ what you say, honey,” said Uncle Remus, “but de creetur what you seed mought ’a’ been a frog an’ you not know it. One thing I does know is dat in times gone by de bull-frog had a tail, kaze I hear de ol’ folks sesso, an’ mo’ dan dat, dey know’d des how he los’ it—de whar, an’ de when, an’ de which-away. Fer all I know it wuz right here at dish yer identual mill-pon’. I ain’t gwine inter court an’ make no affledave on it, but ef anybody wuz ter walk up an’ p’int der finger at me, an’ say dat dis is de place whar ol’ Brer Bull-Frog lose his tail, I’d up an’ ’low, ‘Yasser, it mus’ be de place, kaze it look might’ly like de place what I been hear tell ’bout.’ An’ den I’d shet my eyes an’ see ef I can’t git it straight in my dream.”

Uncle Remus paused, and pretended to be counting a handful of red grains of corn that he had found somewhere in the mill. Seeing that he showed no disposition to tell how Brother Bull-Frog had lost his tail, the little boy reminded him of it. But the old man laughed. “Ef Brer Bull-Frog ain’t never had no tail,” he said, “how de name er goodness he gwineter lose um? Ef he yever is had a tail, why den dat’s a gray hoss uv an’er color. Dey’s a tale ’bout ’im havin’ a tail an’ losin’ it, but how kin dey be a tale when dey ain’t no tail?”

Well, the little boy didn’t know at all, and he looked so disconsolate and so confused that the old negro relented. “Now, den,” he remarked, “ef ol’ Brer Bull-Frog had a tail an’ he ain’t got none now, dey must ’a’ been sump’n happen. In dem times—de times what all deze tales tells you ’bout—Brer Bull-Frog stayed in an’ aroun’ still water des like he do now. De bad col’ dat he had in dem days, he’s got it yit—de same pop-eyes, an’ de same bal’ head. Den, ez now, dey wa’n’t a bunch er ha’r on it dat you could pull out wid a pa’r er tweezers. Ez he bellers now, des dat a-way he bellered den, mo’ speshually at night. An’ talk ’bout settin’ up late—why, ol’ Brer Bull-Frog could beat dem what fust got in de habits er settin’ up late.

“De yuther creeturs can’t git no sleep”

“Dey’s one thing dat you’ll hatter gi’ ’im credit fer, an’ dat wuz keepin’ his face an’ han’s clean, an’ in takin’ keer er his cloze. Nobody, not even his mammy, had ter patch his britches er tack buttons on his coat. See ’im whar you may an’ when you mought, he wuz allers lookin’ spick an’ span des like he done come right out’n a ban’-box. You know what de riddle say ’bout ’im; when he stan’ up he sets down, an’ when he walks he hops. He’d ’a’ been mighty well thunk un, ef it hadn’t but ’a’ been fer his habits. He holler so much at night dat de yuther creeturs can’t git no sleep. He’d holler an’ holler, an’ ’bout de time you think he bleeze ter be ’shame’ er hollerin’ so much, he’d up an’ holler ag’in. It got so dat de creeturs hatter go ’way off some’rs ef dey wanter git any sleep, an’ it seem like dey can’t git so fur off but what Brer Bull-Frog would wake um up time dey git ter dozin’ good.