Uncle Remus

by Joel Chandler Harris

  “‘Spit in yo’ han’s en tug it en toll it,

  En git behine it, en push it, en pole it;

  Spit in yo’ han’s en r’ar back en roll it.’

  “En des ‘bout de time dey got de wood on de fier, der daddy, he come skippin’ in, en de little bird, he flew’d away. Brer Fox, he seed his game wuz up, en ‘twan’t long ‘fo’ he make his skuse en start fer ter go.

  “’You better stay en take a snack wid me, Brer Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. ‘Sence Brer Wolf done quit comin’ en settin’ up wid me, I gittin’ so I feels right lonesome dese long nights,’ sezee.

  “But Brer Fox, he button up his coat-collar tight en des put out fer home. En dat w’at you better do, honey, kaze I see Miss Sally’s shadder sailin’ backerds en for’ds ‘fo’ de winder, en de fus’ news you know she’ll be spectin’ un you.”

  XXIII.

  MR. RABBIT AND MR. BEAR.

  “Dar wuz one season,” said Uncle Remus, pulling thoughtfully at his whiskers, “w’en Brer Fox say to hisse’f dat he speck he better whirl in en plant a goober-patch, en in dem days, mon, hit wuz tech en go. De wud wern’t mo’n out’n his mouf ‘fo’ de groun’ ‘uz brok’d up en de goobers ‘uz planted. Ole Brer Rabbit, he sot off en watch de motions, he did, en he sorter shet one eye en sing to his chilluns:

  “Ti-yi! Tungalee!

  I eat um pea, I pick um pea.

  Hit grow in de groun’, hit grow so free;

  Ti-yi! dem goober pea.’

  “Sho’ ‘nuff w’en de goobers ‘gun ter ripen up, eve’y time Brer Fox go down ter his patch, he fine whar somebody bin grabblin’ ‘mongst de vines, en he git mighty mad. He sorter speck who de somebody is, but ole Brer Rabbit he cover his tracks so cute dat Brer Fox dunner how ter ketch ‘im. Bimeby, one day Brer Fox take a walk all roun’ de groun’-pea patch, en ‘twan’t long ‘fo’ he fine a crack in de fence whar de rail done bin rub right smoove, en right dar he sot ‘im a trap. He tuck’n ben’ down a hick’ry saplin’, growin’ in de fence-cornder, en tie one een’ un a plow-line on de top, en in de udder een’ he fix a loop-knot, en dat he fasten wid a trigger right in de crack. Nex’ mawnin’ w’en ole Brer Rabbit come slippin’ ‘long en crope thoo de crack, de loop-knot kotch ‘im behime de fo’ legs, en de saplin’ flew’d up, en dar he wuz ‘twix’ de heavens en de yeth. Dar he swung, en he fear’d he gwineter fall, en he fear’d he wer’n’t gwineter fall. W’ile he wuz a fixin’ up a tale for Brer Fox, he hear a lumberin’ down de road, en present’y yer cum ole Brer B’ar amblin’ ‘long fum whar he bin takin’ a bee-tree. Brer Rabbit, he hail ‘im:

  “’Howdy, Brer B’ar!’

  “Brer B’ar, he look ‘roun en bimeby he see Brer Rabbit swingin’ fum de saplin’, en he holler out:

  “’Heyo, Brer Rabbit! How you come on dis mawnin’?’

  “’Much oblije, I’m middlin’, Brer B’ar,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

  “Den Brer B’ar, he ax Brer Rabbit w’at he doin’ up dar in de elements, en Brer Rabbit, he up’n say he makin’ dollar minnit. Brer B’ar, he say how. Brer Rabbit say he keepin’ crows out’n Brer Fox’s groun’-pea patch, en den he ax Brer B’ar ef he don’t wanter make dollar minnit, kaze he got big fambly er chilluns fer ter take keer un, en den he make sech nice skeer-crow. Brer B’ar ‘low dat he take de job, en den Brer Rabbit show ‘im how ter ben’ down de saplin’, en twan’t long ‘fo’ Brer B’ar wuz swingin’ up dar in Brer Rabbit place. Den Brer Rabbit, he put out fer Brer Fox house, en w’en he got dar he sing out:

  “’Brer Fox! Oh, Brer Fox! Come out yer, Brer Fox, en I’ll show you de man w’at bin stealin’ yo’ goobers.’

  “Brer Fox, he grab up his walkin’-stick, en bofe un um went runnin’ back down ter der goober-patch, en w’en dey got dar, sho ‘nuff, dar wuz ole Brer B’ar.

  “’Oh, yes! youer kotch, is you?’ sez Brer Fox, en ‘fo’ Brer B’ar could ‘splain, Brer Rabbit he jump up en down, en holler out:

  “’Hit ‘im in de mouf, Brer Fox; hit ‘im in de mouf’; en Brer Fox, he draw back wid de walkin’-cane, en blip he tuck ‘im, en eve’y time Brer B’ar’d try ter ‘splain, Brer Fox’d shower down on him.

  “W’iles all dis ‘uz gwine on, Brer Rabbit, he slip off en git in a mud-hole en des lef’ his eyes stickin’ out, kaze he know’d dat Brer B’ar’d be a comin’ atter ‘im. Sho ‘nuff, bimeby here come Brer B’ar down de road, en w’en he git ter de mud-hole, he say:

  “’Howdy, Brer Frog; is you seed Brer Rabbit go by yer?’

  “’He des gone by,’ sez Brer Rabbit, en ole man B’ar tuck off down de road like a skeer’d mule, en Brer Rabbit, he come out en dry hisse’f in de sun, en go home ter his fambly same ez enny udder man.”

  “The Bear didn’t catch the Rabbit, then?” inquired the little boy, sleepily.

  “Jump up fum dar, honey!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, by way of reply. “I ain’t got no time fer ter be settin’ yer proppin’ yo’ eyeleds open.”

  XXIV.

  MR. BEAR CATCHES

  OLD MR. BULL-FROG.

  “Well, Uncle Remus,” said the little boy, counting to see if he hadn’t lost a marble somewhere, “the Bear didn’t catch the Rabbit after all, did he?”

  “Now you talkin’, honey,” replied the old man, his earnest face breaking up into little eddies of smiles — “now you talkin’ sho. ‘Tain’t bin proned inter no Brer B’ar fer ter kotch Brer Rabbit. Hit sorter like settin’ a mule fer ter trap a hummin’-bird. But Brer B’ar, he tuck’n got hisse’f inter some mo’ trubble, w’ich it look like it mighty easy. Ef folks could make der livin’ longer gittin’ inter trubble,” continued the old man, looking curiously at the little boy, “ole Miss Favers wouldn’t be bodder’n yo’ ma fer ter borry a cup full er sugar eve’y now en den; en it look like ter me dat I knows a nigger dat wouldn’t be squattin’ ‘roun’ yer makin’ dese yer fish-baskits.”

  “How did the Bear get into more trouble, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.

  “Natchul, honey. Brer B’ar, he tuck a notion dat ole Brer Bull-frog wuz de man wa’t fool ‘im, en he say dat he’d come up wid ‘im ef ‘twuz a year atterwuds. But ‘twan’t no year, an ‘twan’t no mont’, en mo’n dat, hit wan’t skasely a week, w’en bimeby one day Brer B’ar wuz gwine home fum de takin’ un a bee-tree, en lo en beholes, who should he see but ole Brer Bull-frog settin’ out on de aidge er de mud-puddle fas’ ‘sleep! Brer B’ar drap his axe, he did, en crope up, en retch out wid his paw, en scoop ole Brer Bull-frog in des dis away.” Here the old man used his hand ladle-fashion, by way of illustration. “He scoop ‘im in, en dar he wuz. W’en Brer B’ar got his clampers on ‘im good, he sot down en talk at ‘im.

  “’Howdy, Brer Bull-frog, howdy! En how yo’ fambly? I hope deyer well, Brer Bull-frog, kaze dis day you got some bizness wid me w’at’ll las’ you a mighty long time.’

  “Brer Bull-frog, he dunner w’at ter say. He dunner what’s up, en he don’t say nuthin’. Ole Brer B’ar he keep runnin’ on:

  “’Youer de man w’at tuck en fool me ‘bout Brer Rabbit t’er day. You had yo’ fun, Brer Bull-frog, en now I’ll git mine.’

  “Den Brer Bull-frog, he gin ter git skeerd, he did, en he up’n say:

  “’W’at I bin doin’, Brer B’ar? How I bin foolin’ you?’

  “Den Brer B’ar laff, en make like he dunno, but he keep on talkin’.

  “’Oh, no, Brer Bull-frog! You ain’t de man w’at stick yo’ head up out’n de water en tell me Brer Rabbit done gone on by. Oh, no! you ain’t de man. I boun’ you ain’t. ‘Bout dat time, you wuz at home wid yo’ fambly, whar you allers is. I dunner whar you wuz, but I knows whar you is, Brer Bull-frog, en hit’s you en me fer it. Atter de sun goes down dis day you don’t fool no mo’ folks gwine ‘long dis road.’

  “Co’se, Brer Bull-frog dunner w’at Brer B’ar drivin’ at, but he know sump’n hatter be done, en dat mighty soon, kaze Brer B’ar ‘gun to snap his jaws tergedder en foam at de mouf, en Brer Bull-frog holler out:

&n
bsp; “’Oh, pray, Brer B’ar! Lemme off dis time, en I won’t never do so no mo’. Oh, pray, Brer B’ar! do lemme off dis time, en I’ll show you de fattes’ bee-tree in de woods.’

  “Ole Brer B’ar, he chomp his toofies en foam at de mouf. Brer Bull-frog he des up’n squall:

  “’Oh, pray, Brer B’ar! I won’t never do so no mo’! Oh, pray, Brer B’ar! lemme off dis time!’

  “But ole Brer B’ar say he gwineter make way wid ‘im, en den he sot en study, ole Brer B’ar did, how he gwineter squench Brer Bull-frog. He know he can’t drown ‘im, en he ain’t got no fier fer ter bu’n ‘im, en he git mighty pestered. Bimeby ole Brer Bull-frog, he sorter stop his cryin’ en his boo-hooin’, en he up’n say:

  “’Ef you gwineter kill me, Brer B’ar, kyar me ter dat big flat rock out dar on de aidge er de mill-pon’, whar I kin see my fambly, en atter I see um, den you kin take you axe en sqush me.’

  “Dis look so fa’r and squar’ dat Brer B’ar he ‘gree, en he take ole Brer Bull-frog by wunner his behime legs, en sling his axe on his shoulder, en off he put fer de big flat rock. When he git dar he lay Brer Bull-frog down on de rock, en Brer Bull-frog make like he lookin’ ‘roun’ fer his folks. Den Brer B’ar, he draw long breff en pick up his axe. Den he spit in his han’s en draw back en come down on de rock — pow!”

  “Did he kill the Frog, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy, as the old man paused to scoop up a thimbleful of glowing embers in his pipe.

  “’Deed, en dat he didn’t, honey. ‘Twix’ de time w’en Brer B’ar raise up wid his axe en w’en he come down wid it, ole Brer Bull-frog he lipt up en dove down in de mill-pon’, kerblink-kerblunk! En w’en he riz way out in de pon’ he riz a singin’, en dish yer’s de song w’at he sing:

  “‘Ingle-go-jang, my joy, my joy —

  Ingle-go-jang, my joy!

  I’m right at home, my joy, my joy —

  Ingle-go-jang, my joy!’”

  “That’s a mighty funny song,” said the little boy.

  “Funny now, I speck,” said the old man, “but ‘twern’t funny in dem days, en ‘twouldn’t be funny now ef folks know’d much ‘bout de Bull-frog langwidge ez dey useter. Dat’s w’at.”

  XXV.

  HOW MR. RABBIT LOST

  HIS FINE BUSHY TAIL.

  “One time,” said Uncle Remus, sighing heavily and settling himself back in his seat with an air of melancholy resignation — “one time Brer Rabbit wuz gwine ‘long down de road shakin’ his big bushy tail, en feelin’ des ez scrumpshus ez a bee-martin wid a fresh bug.” Here the old man paused and glanced at the little boy, but it was evident that the youngster had become so accustomed to the marvelous developments of Uncle Remus’s stories, that the extraordinary statement made no unusual impression upon him. Therefore the old man began again, and this time in a louder and more insinuating tone:

  “One time ole man Rabbit, he wuz gwine ‘long down de road shakin’ his long, bushy tail, en feelin’ mighty biggity.”

  This was effective.

  “Great goodness, Uncle Remus!” exclaimed the little boy in open-eyed wonder, “everybody knows that rabbits haven’t got long, bushy tails.”

  The old man shifted his position in his chair and allowed his venerable head to drop forward until his whole appearance was suggestive of the deepest dejection; and this was intensified by a groan that seemed to be the result of great mental agony. Finally he spoke, but not as addressing himself to the little boy.

  “I notices dat dem fokes w’at makes a great ‘miration ‘bout w’at dey knows is des de folks w’ich you can’t put no ‘pennunce in w’en de ‘cashun come up. Yer one un um now, en he done come en excuse me er ‘lowin’ dat rabbits is got long, bushy tails, w’ich goodness knows ef I’d a dremp’ it, I’d a whirl in en ondremp it.”

  “Well, but Uncle Remus, you said rabbits had long, bushy tails,” replied the little boy. “Now you know you did.”

  “Ef I ain’t fergit it off’n my mine, I say dat ole Brer Rabbit wuz gwine down de big road shakin’ his long, bushy tail. Dat w’at I say, en dat I stan’s by.”

  The little boy looked puzzled, but he didn’t say anything. After a while the old man continued:

  “Now, den, ef dat’s ‘greed ter, I’m gwine on, en ef tain’t ‘greed ter, den I’m gwineter pick up my cane en look atter my own intrust. I got wuk lyin’ roun’ yer dat’s des natally gittin’ moldy.”

  The little boy still remained quiet, and Uncle Remus proceeded:

  “One day Brer Rabbit wuz gwine down de road shakin’ his long, bushy tail, w’en who should he strike up wid but ole Brer Fox gwine amblin’ long wid a big string er fish! W’en dey pass de time er day wid wunner nudder, Brer Rabbit, he open up de confab, he did, en he ax Brer Fox whar he git dat nice string er fish, en Brer Fox, he up’n ‘spon’ dat he kotch um, en Brer Rabbit, he say whar’bouts, en Brer Fox, he say down at de babtizin’ creek, en Brer Rabbit he ax how, kaze in dem days dey wuz monstus fon’ er minners, en Brer Fox, he sot down on a log, he did, en he up’n tell Brer Rabbit dat all he gotter do fer ter git er big mess er minners is ter go ter de creek atter sun down, en drap his tail in de water en set dar twel daylight, en den draw up a whole armful er fishes, en dem w’at he don’t want, he kin fling back. Right dar’s whar Brer Rabbit drap his watermillion, kaze he tuck’n sot out dat night en went a fishin’. De wedder wuz sorter cole, en Brer Rabbit, he got ‘im a bottle er dram en put out fer de creek, en w’en he git dar he pick out a good place, en he sorter squot down, he did, en let his tail hang in de water. He sot dar, en he sot dar, en he drunk his dram, en he think he gwineter freeze, but bimeby day come, en dar he wuz. He make a pull, en he feel like he comin’ in two, en he fetch nudder jerk, en lo en beholes, whar wuz his tail?”

  There was a long pause.

  “Did it come off, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy, presently.

  “She did dat!” replied the old man with unction. “She did dat, and dat w’at make all deze yer bob-tail rabbits w’at you see hoppin’ en skaddlin thoo de woods.”

  “Are they all that way just because the old Rabbit lost his tail in the creek?” asked the little boy.

  “Dat’s it, honey,” replied the old man. “Dat’s w’at dey tells me. Look like dey er bleedzd ter take atter der pa.”

  XXVI.

  MR. TERRAPIN SHOWS

  HIS STRENGTH.

  “Brer Tarrrypin wuz de out’nes’ man,” said Uncle Remus, rubbing his hands together contemplatively, and chuckling to himself in a very significant manner; “he wuz de out’nes’ man er de whole gang. He wuz dat.”

  The little boy sat perfectly quiet, betraying no impatience when Uncle Remus paused to hunt, first in one pocket and then in another, for enough crumbs of tobacco to replenish his pipe. Presently the old man proceeded:

  “One night Miss Meadows en de gals dey gun a candy-pullin’, en so many er de nabers come in ‘sponse ter de invite dat dey hatter put de ‘lasses in de wash pot en b’il’ de fier in de yard. Brer B’ar, he hope Miss Meadows bring de wood, Brer Fox, he men’ de fier, Brer Wolf, he kep’ de d1ogs off, Brer Rabbit, he grease de bottom er de plates fer ter keep de candy fum stickin’, en Brer Tarrypin, he klum up in a cheer, en say he’d watch en see dat de ‘lasses didn’t bile over. Dey wuz all dere, en dey wern’t cuttin’ up no didos, nudder, kase Miss Meadows, she done put her foot down, she did, en say dat w’en dey come ter her place dey hatter hang up a flag er truce at de front gate en ‘bide by it.

  “Well, den, w’iles dey wuz all a settin’ dar en de ‘lasses wuz a bilin’ en a blubberin’, dey got ter runnin’ on talkin’ mighty biggity. Brer Rabbit, he say he de swiffes’; but Brer Tarrypin, he rock ‘long in de cheer en watch de ‘lasses. Brer Fox, he say he de sharpes’, but Brer Tarrypin he rock ‘long. Brer Wolf, he say he de mos’ suvvigus, but Brer Tarrypin, he rock en he rock ‘long. Brer B’ar, he say he de mos’ stronges’, but Brer Tarrypin he rock, en he keep on rockin’. Bimeby he sorter shet one eye, en say, sezee:

  “
’Hit look like ‘periently dat de ole hardshell ain’t nowhars ‘longside er dis crowd, yit yer I is, en I’m de same man w’at show Brer Rabbit dat he ain’t de swiffes’; en I’m de same man w’at kin show Brer B’ar dat he ain’t de stronges’,’ sezee.

  “Den dey all laff en holler, kaze it look like Brer B’ar mo’ stronger dan a steer. Bimeby, Miss Meadows, she up’n ax, she did, how he gwine do it.

  “’Gimme a good strong rope,’ sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, ‘en lemme git in er puddle er water, en den let Brer B’ar see ef he kin pull me out,’ sezee.

  “Den dey all laff g’in, en Brer B’ar, he ups en sez, sezee: ‘We ain’t got no rope,’ sezee.

  “’No,’ sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, ‘en needer is you got de strenk,’ sezee, en den Brer Tarrypin, he rock en rock ‘long, en watch de ‘lasses a bilin’ en a blubberin’.

  “Atter w’ile Miss Meadows, she up en say, she did, dat she’d take’n loan de young men her bed-cord, en w’iles de candy wuz a coolin’ in de plates, dey could all go ter de branch en see Brer Tarrypin kyar out his projick. Brer Tarrypin,” continued Uncle Remus, in a tone at once confidential and argumentative, “wern’t much bigger’n de pa’m er my han’, en it look mighty funny fer ter year ‘im braggin’ ‘bout how he kin outpull Brer B’ar. But dey got de bed-cord atter w’ile, en den dey all put out ter de branch. W’en Brer Tarrypin fine de place he wanter, he tuck one een’ er de bed-cord, en gun de yuther een’ to Brer B’ar.

  “’Now den, ladies en gents,’ sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee, ‘you all go wid Brer B’ar up dar in de woods en I’ll stay yer, en w’en you year me holler, den’s de time fer Brer B’ar fer ter see ef he kin haul in de slack er de rope. You all take keer er dat ar een’,’ sezee, ‘en I’ll take keer er dish yer een’,’ sezee.