Uncle Remus, his songs and his sayings

Harris, Joel Chandler

• Publisher: pubOne.info
• Year: 2010
• eBook ISBN: 9782819938620
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Classics
• Index: Literature

pubOne.info present you this new edition. I am expected to supply a preface for this new edition of my first book- to advance from behind the curtain, as it were, and make a fresh bow to the public that has dealt with Uncle Remus in so gentle and generous a fashion. For this event the lights are to be rekindled, and I am expected to respond in some formal way to an encore that marks the fifteenth anniversary of the book. There have been other editions- how many I do not remember- but this is to be an entirely new one, except as to the matter: new type, new pictures, and new binding.

XXXII. “JACKY-MY-LANTERN” *1

  UPON his next visit to Uncle Remus, the little boy was exceedingly anxious to know more about witches, but the old man prudently refrained from exciting the youngster's imagination any further in that direction. Uncle Remus had a board across his lap, and, armed with a mallet and a shoe-knife, was engaged in making shoe-pegs.

  “W'iles I wuz crossin' de branch des now, ” he said, endeavoring to change the subject, “I come up wid a Jacky-my-lantern, en she wuz bu'nin' wuss'n a bunch er lightnin'-bugs, mon. I know'd she wuz a fixin' fer ter lead me inter dat quogmire down in de swamp, en I steer'd cle'r an' er. Yasser. I did dat. You ain't never seed no Jacky-my-lanterns, is you, honey? ”

  The little boy never had, but he had heard of them, and he wanted to know what they were, and thereupon Uncle Remus proceeded to tell him.

  “One time, ” said the old darkey, transferring his spectacles from his nose to the top of his head and leaning his elbows upon his peg-board, “dere wuz a blacksmif man, en dish yer blacksmif man, he tuck'n stuck closer by his dram dan he did by his bellus. Monday mawnin' he'd git on a spree, en all dat week he'd be on a spree, en de nex' Monday mawnin' he'd take a fresh start. Bimeby, one day, atter de blacksmif bin spreein''roun' en cussin' might'ly, he hear a sorter rustlin' fuss at de do', en in walk de Bad Man. ”

  “Who, Uncle Remus? ” the little boy asked.

  "De Bad Man, honey; de Ole Boy hisse'f right fresh from de ridjun w'at you year Miss Sally readin' 'bout. He done hide his hawns, en his tail, en his hoof, en he come dress up like w'ite fokes. He tuck off his hat en he bow, en den he tell de blacksmif who he is, en dat he done come atter 'im. Den de black-smif, he gun ter cry en beg, en he beg so hard en he cry so loud dat de Bad Man say he make a trade wid 'im. At de een' er one year de sperit er de blacksmif wuz to be his'n en endurin' er dat time de blacksmif mus' put in his hottes' licks in de intruss er de Bad Man, en den he put a spell on de cheer de blacksmif was settin' in, en on his sludge-hammer. De man w'at sot in de cheer couldn't git up less'n de blacksmif let 'im, en de man w'at pick up de sludge 'ud hatter keep on knockin' wid it twel de blacksmif say quit; en den he gun 'im money plenty, en off he put.

  "De blacksmif, he sail in fer ter have his fun, en he have so much dat he done clean forgot 'bout his contrack, but bimeby, one day he look down de road, en dar he see de Bad Man comin', en den he know'd de year wuz out. W'en de Bad Man got in de do', de blacksmif wuz poundin' 'way at a hoss-shoe, but he wa'n't so bizzy dat he didn't ax 'im in. De Bad Man sorter do like he ain't got no time fer ter tarry, but de blacksmif say he got some little jobs dat he bleedzd ter finish up, en den he ax de Bad Man fer ter set down a minnit; en de Bad Man, he tuck'n sot down, en he sot in dat cheer w'at he done conju'd en, co'se, dar he wuz. Den de blacksmif, he 'gun ter poke fun at de Bad Man, en he ax him don't he want a dram, en won't he hitch his cheer up little nigher de fier, en de Bad Man, he beg en he beg, but 'twan't doin' no good, kase de blacksmif 'low dat he gwineter keep 'im dar twel he prommus dat he let 'im off one year mo', en, sho nuff, de Bad Man prommus dat ef de black-smif let 'im up he give 'im a n'er showin'. So den de blacksmif gun de wud, en de Bad Man sa'nter off down de big road, settin' traps en layin' his progance fer ter ketch mo' sinners.

  "De nex' year hit pass same like t'er one. At de 'p'inted time yer come de Ole Boy atter de blacksmif, but still de blacksmif had some jobs dat he bleedzd ter finish up, en he ax de Bad Man fer ter take holt er de sludge en he he'p 'im out; en de Bad Man, he 'low dat r'er'n be disperlite, he don't keer ef he do hit 'er a biff er two; en wid dat he grab up de sludge, en dar he wuz 'gin, kase he done conju'd de sludge so dat whosomedever tuck 'er up can't put 'er down less'n de blacksmif say de wud. Dey perlaver'd dar, dey did, twel bimeby de Bad Man he up'n let 'im off n'er year.

  "Well, den, dat year pass same ez t'er one. Mont' in en mont' out dat man wuz rollin' in dram, en bimeby yer come de Bad Man. De blacksmif cry en he holler, en he rip 'roun' en t'ar his ha'r, but hit des like he didn't, kase de Bad Man grab 'im up en cram 'im in a bag en tote 'im off. W'iles dey wuz gwine 'long dey come up wid a passel er fokes w'at wuz havin' wanner deze yer fote er July bobbycues, en de Ole Boy, he 'low dat maybe he kin git some mo' game, en w'at do he do but jine in wid um. He lines in en he talk politics same like t'er fokes, twel bimeby dinnertime come 'roun', en dey ax 'im up, w'ich 'greed wid his stummuck, en he pozzit his bag underneed de table 'longside de udder bags w'at de hongry fokes'd brung.

  "No sooner did de blacksmif git back on de groun' dan he 'gun ter wuk his way outer de bag. He crope out, he did, en den he tuck'n change de bag. He tuck'n tuck a n'er bag en lay it down whar dish yer bag wuz, en den he crope outer de crowd en lay low in de underbresh.

  "Las', w'en de time come fer ter go, de Ole Boy up wid his bag en slung her on his shoulder, en off he put fer de Bad Place. W'en he got dar he tuck'n drap de bag off'n his back en call up de imps, en dey des come a squallin' en a caperin', w'ich I speck dey mus' a bin hongry. Leas'ways dey des swawm'd 'roun', hollerin' out:

  "'Daddy, w'at you brung— daddy, w'at you brung? '

  “So den dey open de bag, en lo en behol's, out jump a big bull- dog, en de way he shuck dem little imps wuz a caution, en he kep' on gnyawin' un um twel de Ole Boy open de gate en t'un 'im out. ”

  “And what became of the blacksmith? ” the little boy asked, as

  Uncle Remus paused to snuff the candle with his fingers.

  "I'm drivin' on 'roun', honey. Atter 'long time, de blacksmif he tuck'n die, en w'en he go ter de Good Place de man at de gate dunner who he is, en he can't squeeze in. Den he go down ter de Bad Place, en knock. De Ole Boy, he look out, he did, en he know'd de blacksmif de minnit he laid eyes on 'im; but he shake his head en say, sezee:

  "'You'll hatter skuze me, Brer Blacksmif, kase I dun had 'speunce 'longer you. You'll hatter go some'rs else ef you wanter raise enny racket, ' sezee, en wid dat he shet do do'.

  “En dey do say, ” continued Uncle Remus, with unction, “dat sense dat day de blacksmif bin sorter huv'rin' 'roun' 'twix' de heavens en de ye'th, en dark nights he shine out so fokes call 'im Jacky-my-lantern. Dat's w'at dey tells me. Hit may be wrong er't maybe right, but dat's w'at I years. ”

  *1 This story is popular on the coast and among the rice- plantations, and, since the publication of some of the animal-myths in the newspapers, I have received a version of it from a planter in southwest Georgia; but it seems to me to be an intruder among the genuine myth-stories of the negroes. It is a trifle too elaborate. Nevertheless, it is told upon the plantations with great gusto, and there are several versions in circulation.

XXXIII. WHY THE NEGRO IS BLACK

  ONE night, while the little boy was watching Uncle Remus twisting and waxing some shoe-thread, he made what appeared to him to be a very curious discovery. He discovered that the palms of the old man's hands were as white as his own, and the fact was such a source of wonder that he at last made it the subject of remark. The response of Uncle Remus led to the earnest recital of a piece of unwritten history that must prove interesting to ethnologists.

  “Tooby sho de pa'm er my han's w'ite, honey, ” he quietly remarked, “en, w'en it come ter dat, dey wuz a time w'en all de w'ite folks 'uz black— blacker dan me, kaze I done bin yer so long dat I bin sorter bleach out. ”

  The little boy laughed. He thought Uncle Remus was making him the victim of one of his jokes; but the youngster was never more mistaken. The old man was serious. Nevertheless, he failed to rebuke the ill-timed mirth of the child, appearing to be altogether engrossed in his work. After a while, he resumed:

  “Yasser. Fokes dunner w'at bin yit, let 'lone w'at gwinter be. Niggers is niggers now, but de time wuz w'en we 'uz all niggers tergedder. ”

  “When was that, Uncle Remus? ”

  “Way back yander. In dem times we 'uz all un us black; we 'uz all niggers tergedder, en 'cordin' ter all de 'counts w'at I years fokes 'uz gittin' 'long 'bout ez well in dem days ez dey is now. But atter 'w'ile de news come dat dere wuz a pon' er water some'rs in de naberhood, w'ich ef dey'd git inter dey'd be wash off nice en w'ite, en den one un um, he fine de place en make er splunge inter de pon', en come out w'ite ez a town gal. En den, bless grashus! w'en de fokes seed it, dey make a break fer de pon', en dem w'at wuz de soopless, dey got in fus' en dey come out w'ite; en dem w'at wuz de nex' soopless, dey got in nex', en dey come out merlatters; en dey wuz sech a crowd un um dat dey mighty nigh use de water up, w'ich w'en dem yuthers come long, de morest dey could do wuz ter paddle about wid der foots en dabble in it wid der han's. Dem wuz de niggers, en down ter dis day dey ain't no w'ite 'bout a nigger 'ceppin de pa'ms er der han's en de soles er der foot. ”

  The little boy seemed to be very much interested in this new account of the origin of races, and he made some further inquiries, which elicited from Uncle Remus the following additional particulars:

  “De Injun en de Chinee got ter be 'counted 'long er de merlatter. I ain't seed no Chinee dat I knows un, but dey tells me dey er sorter 'twix' a brown en a brindle. Dey er all merlatters. ”

  “But mamma says the Chinese have straight hair, ” the little boy suggested.

  “Co'se, honey, ” the old man unhesitatingly responded, “dem w'at git ter de pon' time nuff fer ter git der head in de water, de water hit onkink der ha'r. Hit bleedzd ter be dat away. ”

XXXIV. THE SAD FATE OF MR. FOX

“Now, den, ” said Uncle Remus, with unusual gravity, as soon as the little boy, by taking his seat, announced that he was ready for the evening's entertainment to begin; “now, den, dish yer tale w'at I'm agwine ter gin you is de las' row er stumps, sho. Dish yer's whar ole Brer Fox los' his breff, en he ain't fine it no mo' down ter dis day. ”

“Did he kill himself, Uncle Remus? ” the little boy asked, with a curious air of concern.

“Hol' on dar, honey! ” the old man exclaimed, with a great affectation of alarm; “hol' on dar! Wait! Gimme room! I don't wanter tell you no story, en ef you keep shovin' me forrerd, I mout git some er de facks mix up 'mong deyse'f. You gotter gimme room en you gotter gimme time. ”

The little boy had no other premature questions to ask, and, after a pause, Uncle Remus resumed:

"Well, den, one day Brer Rabbit go ter Brer Fox house, he did, en he put up mighty po' mouf. He say his ole 'oman sick, en his chilluns col', en de fier done gone out. Brer Fox, he feel bad 'bout dis, en he tuck'n s'ply Brer Rabbit widder chunk er fier. Brer Rabbit see Brer Fox cookin' some nice beef, en his mouf gun ter water, but he take de fier, he did, en he put out to'rds home; but present'y yer he come back, en he say de fier done gone out. Brer Fox 'low dat he want er invite to dinner, but he don't say nuthin', en bimeby Brer Rabbit he up'n say, sezee:

"'Brer Fox, whar you git so much nice beef? ' sezee, en den Brer

Fox he up'n 'spon', sezee:

"'You come ter my house termorrer ef yo' fokes ain't too sick, en I kin show you whar you kin git plenty beef mo' nicer dan dish yer, ' sezee.

"Well, sho nuff, de nex' day fotch Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox say, sezee:

"'Der's a man down yander by Miss Meadows's w'at got heap er fine cattle, en he gotter cow name Bookay, ' sezee, 'en you des go en say Bookay, en she'll open her mouf, en you kin jump in en git des as much meat ez you kin tote, ' sez Brer Fox, sezee.

"'Well, I'll go 'long, ' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en you kin jump fus' en den I'll come follerin' atter, ' sezee.

"Wid dat dey put out, en dey went promernadin' 'roun' 'mong de cattle, dey did, twel bimeby dey struck up wid de one dey wuz atter. Brer Fox, he up, he did, en holler Bookay, en de cow flung 'er mouf wide open. Sho nuff, in dey jump, en w'en dey got dar, Brer Fox, he say, sezee:

"'You kin cut mos' ennywheres, Brer Rabbit, but don't cut 'roun' de haslett, ' sezee.

"'Den Brer Rabbit, he holler back, he did: I'm a gitten me out a roas'n-piece, ' sezee.

"'Roas'n, er bakin', er fryin', ' sez Brer Fox, sezee, 'don't git too nigh de haslett, ' sezee.

"Dey cut en dey kyarved, en dey kyarved en dey cut, en w'iles dey wuz cuttin' en kyarvin', en slashin' 'way, Brer Rabbit, he tuck'n hacked inter de haslett, en wid dat down fell de cow dead.

"'Now, den, ' sez Brer Fox, 'we er gone, sho, ' sezee.

"'W'at we gwine do? ' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

"'I'll git in de maul, ' sez Brer Fox, 'en you'll jump in de gall, ' sezee.

"Nex' mawnin' yer cum de man w'at de cow b'long ter, and he ax who kill Bookay. Nobody don't say nuthin'. Den de man say he'll cut 'er open en see, en den he whirl in, en twan't no time 'fo' he had 'er intruls spread out. Brer Rabbit, he crope out'n de gall, en say, sezee:

"'Mister Man! Oh, Mister Man! I'll tell you who kill yo' cow. You look in de maul, en dar you'll fine 'im, ' sezee.

"Wid dat de man tuck a stick and lam down on de maul so hard dat he kill Brer Fox stone-dead. W'en Brer Rabbit see Brer Fox wuz laid out fer good, he make like he mighty sorry, en he up'n ax de man fer Brer Fox head. Man say he ain't keerin', en den Brer Rabbit tuck'n brung it ter Brer Fox house. Dar he see ole Miss Fox, en he tell 'er dat he done fotch her some nice beef w'at 'er ole man sont 'er, but she ain't gotter look at it twel she go ter eat it.

"Brer Fox son wuz name Tobe, en Brer Rabbit tell Tobe fer ter keep still w'iles his mammy cook de nice beef w'at his daddy sont 'im. Tobe he wuz mighty hongry, en he look in de pot he did w'iles de cookin' wuz gwine on, en dar he see his daddy head, en wid dat he sot up a howl en tole his mammy. Miss Fox, she git mighty mad w'en she fine she cookin' her ole man head, en she call up de dogs, she did, en sickt em on Brer Rabbit; en ole Miss Fox en Tobe en de dogs, dey push Brer Rabbit so close dat he hatter take a holler tree. Miss Fox, she tell Tobe fer ter stay dar en mine Brer Rabbit, w'ile she goes en git de ax, en w'en she gone, Brer Rabbit, he tole Tobe ef he go ter de branch en git 'im a drink er water dat he'll gin 'im a dollar. Tobe, he put out, he did, en bring some water in his hat, but by de time he got back Brer Rabbit done out en gone. Ole Miss Fox, she cut and cut twel down come de tree, but no Brer Rabbit dar. Den she lay de blame on Tobe, en she say she gwineter lash 'im, en Tobe, he put out en run, de ole 'oman atter 'im. Bimeby, he come up wid Brer Rabbit, en sot down fer to tell 'im how 'twuz, en w'iles dey wuz a settin' dar, yer come ole Miss Fox a slippin' up en grab um bofe. Den she tell um w'at she gwine do. Brer Rabbit she gwineter kill, en Tobe she gwineter lam ef its de las' ack. Den Brer Rabbit sez, sezee:

"'Ef you please, ma'am, Miss Fox, lay me on de grinestone en groun off my nose so I can't smell no mo' w'en I'm dead. '

"Miss Fox, she tuck dis ter be a good idee, en she fotch bofe un um ter de grinestone, en set um up on it so dat she could groun' off Brer Rabbit nose. Den Brer Rabbit, he up'n say, sezee:

"'Ef you please, ma'am, Miss Fox, Tobe he kin turn de handle w'iles you goes atter some water fer ter wet de grinestone, ' sezee.

“Co'se, soon'z Brer Rabbit see Miss Fox go atter de water, he jump down en put out, en dis time he git clean away. ”

“And was that the last of the Rabbit, too, Uncle Remus? ” the little boy asked, with something like a sigh.

“Don't push me too close, honey, ” responded the old man; “don't shove me up in no cornde...

Table of contents

• DEAR FROST:
• INTRODUCTION
• LEGENDS OF THE OLD PLANTATION
• II. THE WONDERFUL TAR BABY STORY
• III. WHY MR. POSSUM LOVES PEACE
• IV. HOW MR. RABBIT WAS TOO SHARP FOR MR. FOX
• V. THE STORY OF THE DELUGE AND HOW IT CAME ABOUT
• VI. MR. RABBIT GROSSLY DECEIVES MR. FOX
• VII. MR. FOX IS AGAIN VICTIMIZED
• VIII. MR. FOX IS “OUTDONE” BY MR. BUZZARD
• IX. MISS COW FALLS A VICTIM TO MR. RABBIT
• X. MR. TERRAPIN APPEARS UPON THE SCENE
• XI. MR. WOLF MAKES A FAILURE
• XII. MR. FOX TACKLES OLD MAN TARRYPIN
• XIII. THE AWFUL FATE OF MR. WOLF
• XIV. MR. FOX AND THE DECEITFUL FROGS
• XV. MR. FOX GOES A-HUNTING, BUT MR. RABBIT BAGS THE GAME
• XVI. OLD MR. RABBIT, HE'S A GOOD FISHERMAN
• XVII. MR. RABBIT NIBBLES UP THE BUTTER
• XVIII. MR. RABBIT FINDS HIS MATCH AT LAST
• XIX. THE FATE OF MR. JACK SPARROW
• XX. HOW MR. RABBIT SAVED HIS MEAT
• XXI. MR. RABBIT MEETS HIS MATCH AGAIN
• XXII. A STORY ABOUT THE LITTLE RABBITS
• XXIII. MR. RABBIT AND MR. BEAR
• XXIV. MR. BEAR CATCHES OLD MR. BULL-FROG
• XXV. HOW MR. RABBIT LOST HIS FINE BUSHY TAIL
• XXVI. MR. TERRAPIN SHOWS HIS STRENGTH
• XXVII. WHY MR. POSSUM HAS NO HAIR ON HIS TAIL
• XXVIII. THE END OF MR. BEAR
• XXIX. MR. FOX GETS INTO SERIOUS BUSINESS
• XXX. HOW MR. RABBIT SUCCEEDED IN RAISING A DUST
• XXXI. A PLANTATION WITCH
• XXXII. “JACKY-MY-LANTERN” *1
• XXXIII. WHY THE NEGRO IS BLACK
• XXXIV. THE SAD FATE OF MR. FOX
• PLANTATION PROVERBS
• HIS SONGS
• II. CAMP-MEETING SONG *
• III. CORN-SHUCKING SONG
• IV. THE PLOUGH-HANDS' SONG (JASPER COUNTY—1860.)
• V. CHRISTMAS PLAY-SONG (MYRICK PLACE, PUTNAM COUNTY 1858.)
• VI. PLANTATION PLAY-SONG (PUTNAM COUNTY—1856.)
• VII. TRANSCRIPTIONS *1
• 2.A PLANTATION SERENADE
• VIII. THE BIG BETHEL CHURCH
• IX. TIME GOES BY TURNS
• A STORY OF THE WAR
• HIS SAYINGS
• II. UNCLE REMUS'S CHURCH EXPERIENCE
• III. UNCLE REMUS AND THE SAVANNAH DARKEY
• TURNIP SALAD AS A TEXT
• V. A CONFESSION
• VI. UNCLE REMUS WITH THE TOOTHACHE
• VII. THE PHONOGRAPH
• VIII. RACE IMPROVEMENT
• IX. IN THE ROLE OF A TARTAR
• X. A CASE OF MEASLES
• XI. THE EMIGRANTS
• XII. AS A MURDERER
• XIII. HIS PRACTICAL VIEW OF THINGS
• XIV. THAT DECEITFUL JUG
• XV. THE FLORIDA WATERMELON
• XVI. UNCLE REMUS PREACHES TO A CONVERT
• XVII. AS TO EDUCATION
• XVIII. A TEMPERANCE REFORMER
• XIX. AS A WEATHER PROPHET
• XX. THE OLD MAN'S TROUBLES
• XXI. THE FOURTH OF JULY
• Copyright