Nights with Uncle Remus (8 page)

48. Chivreil!” Tan yé rivé dézième zalon, compair Chivreil Chevreuil!” Temps eux arriver deuxième jalon, compère Chevreuil

49. siffler: “Fioute!” Compair Torti réponne: “Croak!” Troisième siffler: “Fioute!” Compère Tortue répondre: “Croak!” Troisième

50. zalon bouté, compair Torti tink-à-tink avé compair jalon au bout, compère Tortue tingue-à-tingue avec compère

51. Chivreil. “Diâbe! Torti la galopé pli vite Chevreuil. “Diable! Tortue là galopper plus vite

52. pacé stimbotte; fo mo gronyé mo cor.” Tan compair passé steamboat; faut moi grouiller mon corps.” Temps compère

53. Chivreil rivé coté névième zalon, li oua compair Torti Chevreuil arriver côté neuvième jalon, lui voir compè Tortue

54. apé patchiou dan dolo. Li mété tou so laforce après
patchiou!
dans de l'eau. Lui mettre toute sa la force

55. dihior pou aïen; avan li rivé coté bite, li tendé dehors pour rien; avant lui arriver côté but, lui entendre

56. tou monne apé hélé: “Houra! houra! pou compair Torti!” tout monde après héler: “Hourra! hourra! pour compè Tortue!”

57. Tan li rivé, li oua compair Torti on la garelie apé Temps lui arriver, lui voir compère Tortue en la galerie après

58. brassé Mamzel Calinda. Ça fé li si tan mal, li embrasser Mlle. Calinda. Cela faire lui si tant mal, lui

59. sapé dan boi. Compair Torti maïé avé Mamzel Calinda s'échapper dans bois. Compère Tortue marier avec Mlle. Calinda

60. samedi apé vini, é tou monne manzé, boi, jika samedi après venir, et tout monde manger, boire jusqu'à

61. y tchiak.
²²
eux griser.

 

It only remains to be said that none of the stories given in the present volume are “cooked.” They are given in the simple but picturesque language of the negroes, just as the negroes tell them. The Ghost-story, in which the dead woman returns in search of the silver that had been placed upon her eyes, is undoubtedly of white origin; but Mr. Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) heard it among the negroes of Florida, Missouri, where it was “The Woman with the Golden Arm.” Fortunately, it was placed in the mouth of 'Tildy, the house-girl, who must be supposed to have heard her mistress tell it. But it has been negroized to such an extent that it may be classed as a negro legend; and it is possible that the white version is itself based upon a negro story. At any rate, it was told to the writer by different negroes; and he saw no reason to doubt its authenticity until after a large portion of the book was in type. His relations to the stories are simply those of editor and compiler. He has written them as they came to him, and he is responsible only for the setting. He has endeavored to project them upon the background and to give them the surroundings which they had in the old days that are no more; and it has been his purpose to give in their recital a glimpse of plantation life in the South before the war. If the reader, therefore, will exercise his imagination to the extent of believing that the stories are told to a little boy by a group of negroes on a plantation in Middle Georgia, before the war, he will need neither foot-note nor explanation to guide him.

In the preparation of this volume the writer has been placed under obligations to many kind friends. But for the ready sympathy and encouragement of the proprietors of “The Atlanta Constitution”—but for their generosity, it may be said—the writer would never have found opportunity to verify the stories and prepare them for the press. He is also indebted to hundreds of kind correspondents in all parts of the Southern States, who have interested themselves in the work of collecting the legends. He is particularly indebted to Mrs. Helen S. Barclay, of Darien, to Mr. W. O. Tuggle, to Hon. Charles C. Jones, Jr., to the accomplished daughters of Mr. Griswold, of Clinton, Georgia, and to Mr. John Devereux, Jr., and Miss Devereux, of Raleigh, North Carolina. J. C. H.

 

ATLANTA, GEORGIA.

Note

To give a cue to the imagination of the reader, it may be necessary to state that the stories related in this volume are supposed to be told to a little boy on a Southern plantation, before the war, by an old family servant.

It had been raining all day so that Uncle Remus found it impossible to go out. The storm had begun, the old man declared, just as the chickens were crowing for day, and it had continued almost without intermission. The dark gray clouds had blotted out the sun, and the leafless limbs of the tall oaks surrendered themselves drearily to the fantastic gusts that drove the drizzle fitfully before them. The lady to whom Uncle Remus belonged had been thoughtful of the old man, and 'Tildy, the house-girl, had been commissioned to carry him his meals. This arrangement came to the knowledge of the little boy at supper time, and he lost no time in obtaining permission to accompany 'Tildy.

Uncle Remus made a great demonstration over the thoughtful kindness of his “Miss Sally.”

“Ef she aint one blessid w'ite 'oman,” he said, in his simple, fervent way, “den dey aint none un um 'roun' in deze parts.”

With that he addressed himself to the supper, while the little boy sat by and eyed him with that familiar curiosity common to children. Finally the youngster disturbed the old man with an inquiry:

“Uncle Remus, do geese stand on one leg all night, or do they sit down to sleep?”

“Tooby sho' dey does, honey; dey sets down same ez you does. Co'se, dey don't cross der legs,” he added, cautiously, “kase dey sets down right flat-footed.”

“Well, I saw one the other day, and he was standing on one foot, and I watched him and watched him, and he kept on standing there.”

“Ez ter dat,” responded Uncle Remus, “dey mought stan' on one foot an drap off ter sleep en fergit deyse'f. Deze yer gooses,” he continued, wiping the crumbs from his beard with his coat-tail, “is mighty kuse fowls; deyer mighty kuse. In ole times dey wuz 'mongs de big-bugs, en in dem days, w'en ole Miss Goose gun a dinin', all de quality wuz dere. Likewise, en needer wuz dey stuck-up, kase wid all der kyar'n's on, Miss Goose wer'n't too proud fer ter take in washin' fer de neighborhoods, en she make money, en get slick en fat lak Sis Tempy.

“Dis de way marters stan' w'en one day Brer Fox en Brer Rabbit, dey wuz settin' up at de cotton-patch, one on one side de fence, en t'er one on t'er side, gwine on wid one er n'er, w'en fus' news dey know, dey year sump'n—
blim, blim, blim!

“Brer Fox, he ax w'at dat fuss is, en Brer Rabbit, he up'n 'spon' dat it's ole Miss Goose down at de spring. Den Brer Fox, he up'n ax w'at she doin', en Brer Rabbit, he say, sezee, dat she battlin' cloze.”

“Battling clothes, Uncle Remus?” said the little boy.

“Dat w'at dey call it dem days, honey. Deze times, dey rubs cloze on deze yer bodes w'at got furrers in um, but dem days dey des tuck'n tuck de cloze en lay um out on a bench, en ketch holt er de battlin'-stick en natally paddle de fillin' outen um.

“W'en Brer Fox year dat ole Miss Goose wuz down dar dab-blin' in soapsuds en washin' cloze, he sorter lick he chops, en 'low dat some er dese odd-come-shorts he gwine ter call en pay he 'specks. De minnit he say dat, Brer Rabbit, he know sump'n 'uz up, en he 'low ter hisse'f dat he 'speck he better whirl in en have some fun w'iles it gwine on. Bimeby Brer Fox up'n say ter Brer Rabbit, dat he bleedzd ter be movin' 'long todes home, en wid dat dey bofe say good-bye.

“Brer Fox, he put out ter whar his fambly wuz, but Brer Rabbit, he slip 'roun', he did, en call on ole Miss Goose. Ole Miss Goose she wuz down at de spring, washin', en b'ilin', en battlin' cloze; but Brer Rabbit he march up en ax her howdy, en den she tuck'n ax Brer Rabbit howdy.

“ ‘I'd shake han's 'long wid you, Brer Rabbit,' sez she, ‘but dey er all full er suds,' sez she.

“ ‘No marter 'bout dat, Miss Goose,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘so long ez yo' will's good,' sezee.”

“A goose with hands, Uncle Remus!” the little boy exclaimed.

“How you know goose aint got han's?” Uncle Remus inquired, with a frown. “Is you been sleepin' longer ole man Know-All? Little mo' en you'll up'n stan' me down dat snakes aint got no foots, and yit you take en lay a snake down yer 'fo' de fier, en his foots 'll come out right 'fo' yo' eyes.”

Uncle Remus paused here, but presently continued:

“Atter ole Miss Goose en Brer Rabbit done pass de time er day wid one er n'er, Brer Rabbit, he ax 'er, he did, how she come on deze days, en Miss Goose say, mighty po'ly.

“ ‘I'm gittin' stiff en I'm gittin' clumpsy,' sez she, 'en mo'n dat I'm gittin' bline,' sez she. ‘Des 'fo' you happen 'long, Brer Rabbit, I drap my specks in de tub yer, en ef you'd 'a' come 'long 'bout dat time,' sez ole Miss Goose, sez she, ‘I lay I'd er tuck you for dat nasty, owdashus Brer Fox, en it ud er bin a born blessin' ef I hadn't er scald you wid er pan er b'ilin suds,' sez she. ‘I'm dat glad I foun' my specks I dunner w'at ter do,' sez ole Miss Goose, sez she.

“Den Brer Rabbit, he up'n say dat bein's how Sis Goose done fotch up Brer Fox name, he got sump'n fer ter tell 'er, en den he let out 'bout Brer Fox gwine ter call on 'er.

“ ‘He comin',' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee; ‘he comin' sho', en w'en he come hit'll be des 'fo' day,' sezee.

“ ‘Wid dat, ole Miss Goose wipe 'er han's on 'er apun, en put 'er specks up on 'er forrerd, en look lak she done got trouble in 'er mine.

“ ‘Laws-a-massy!' sez she, ‘spozen he come, Brer Rabbit! W'at I gwine do? En dey aint a man 'bout de house, n'er,' sez she.

“Den Brer Rabbit, he shot one eye, en he say, sezee:

“ ‘Sis Goose, de time done come w'en you bleedzd ter roos' high. You look lak you got de dropsy,' sezee, ‘but don't mine dat, kase ef you don't roos' high, youer goner,' sezee.

“Den ole Miss Goose ax Brer Rabbit w'at she gwine do, en Brer Rabbit he up en tell Miss Goose dat she mus' go home en tie up a bundle er de w'ite folks cloze, en put um on de bed, en den she mus' fly up on a rafter, en let Brer Fox grab de cloze en run off wid um.

“Ole Miss Goose say she much 'blige, en she tuck'n tuck her things en waddle off home, en dat night she do lak Brer Rabbit say wid de bundle er cloze, en den she sont wud ter Mr. Dog, en Mr. Dog he come down, en say he'd sorter set up wid 'er.

“Des 'fo' day, yer come Brer Fox creepin' up, en he went en push on de do' easy, en de do' open, en he see sump'n w'ite on de bed w'ich he took fer Miss Goose, en he grab it en run. 'Bout dat time Mr. Dog sail out fum und' de house, he did, en ef Brer Fox hadn't er drapt de cloze, he'd er got kotch. Fum dat, wud went 'roun' dat Brer Fox bin tryin ter steal Miss Goose cloze, en he come mighty nigh losin' his stannin' at Miss Meadows. Down ter dis day,” Uncle Remus continued, preparing to fill his pipe, “Brer Fox b'leeve dat Brer Rabbit wuz de 'casion er Mr. Dog bein' in de neighborhoods at dat time er night, en Brer Rabbit aint 'spute it. De bad feelin' 'twix' Brer Fox en Mr. Dog start right dar, en hits bin agwine on twel now dey aint git in smellin' distuns er one er n'er widout deys a row.”

II

There was a pause after the story of old Miss Goose. The culmination was hardly sensational enough to win the hearty applause of the little boy, and this fact appeared to have a depressing influence upon Uncle Remus. As he leaned slightly forward, gazing into the depths of the great fireplace, his attitude was one of pensiveness.

“I 'speck I done wo' out my welcome up at de big house,” he said, after a while. “I mos' knows I is,” he continued, setting himself resignedly in his deep-bottomed chair. “Kaze de las' time I uz up dar, I had my eye on Miss Sally mighty nigh de whole blessid time, en w'en you see Miss Sally rustlin' 'roun' makin' lak she fixin' things up dar on de mantle-shelf, en bouncin' de cheers 'roun', en breshin' dus' whar dey aint no dus', en flyin' 'roun' singin' sorter louder dan common, den I des knows sump'n' done gone en rile 'er.”

“Why, Uncle Remus!” exclaimed the little boy; “Mamma was just glad because I was feeling so good.”

“Mought er bin,” the old man remarked, in a tone that was far from implying conviction. “Ef 'twa'n't dat, den she wuz gittin' tired er seein' me lounjun' 'roun' up dar night atter night, en ef 'twa'n't dat, den she wuz watchin' a chance fer ter preach ter yo' pa. Oh, I done bin know Miss Sally long fo' yo' pa is!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, in response to the astonishment depicted upon the child's face. “I bin knowin' 'er sence she wuz so high, en endurin' er all dat time I aint seed no mo' up'n spoken w'ite 'oman dan w'at Miss Sally is.

“But dat aint needer yer ner dar. You done got so youk'n rush down yer des like you useter, en we kin set yer en smoke, en tell tales, en study up 'musements same like we wuz gwine on 'fo' you got dat splinter in yo' foot.

“I mines me er one time”—with an infectious laugh—“w'en ole Brer Rabbit got Brer Fox in de wuss trubble w'at a man wuz mos' ever got in yit, en dat 'uz w'en he fool 'im 'bout de hoss. Aint I never tell you 'bout dat? But no marter ef I is. Hoecake aint cook done good twel hit's turnt over a couple er times.

“Well, atter Brer Fox done git rested fum keepin' out er de way er Mr. Dog, en sorter ketch up wid his rations, he say ter hisse'f dat he be dog his cats ef he don't slorate ole Brer Rabbit ef it take 'im a mont'; en dat, too, on top er all de 'spe'unce w'at he done bin had wid um. Brer Rabbit he sorter git win' er dis, en one day, w'iles he gwine 'long de road studyin' how he gwineter hol' he hand wid Brer Fox, he see a great big Hoss layin' stretch out flat on he side in de pastur'; en he tuck'n crope up, he did, fer ter see ef dish yer Hoss done gone en die. He crope up en he crope 'roun', en bimeby he see de Hoss switch he tail, en den Brer Rabbit know he aint dead. Wid dat, Brer Rabbit lope back ter de big road, en mos' de fus' man w'at he see gwine on by wuz Brer Fox, en Brer Rabbit he tuck atter 'im, en holler: