he wunder de mo' he dunno. Brer Fox, he go trottin' by, en Brer Rabbit,
he sot in de bushes en wunder. Bimeby he 'low ter hisse'f, he did, dat
Brer Fox ain't got no business fer ter be trottin' 'long down de road,
totin' doin's w'ich yuther folks dunner w'at dey is, en he 'low dat dey
won't be no great harm done ef he take atter Brer Fox en fine out w'at
he got in dat ar bag.
"Wid dat, Brer Rabbit, he put out. He ain't got no bag fer ter tote, en
he pick up he foots mighty peart. Mo'n dat, he tuck'n tuck a nigh-cut,
en by de time Brer Fox git home, Brer Rabbit done had time fer ter go
'roun' by de watermillion-patch en do some er he devilment, en den atter
dat he tuck'n sot down in de bushes whar he kin see Brer Fox w'en he
come home.
"Bimeby yer come Brer Fox wid de bag slung 'cross he back. He onlatch de
do', he did, en he go in en sling Brer Tarrypin down in de cornder, en
set down front er de h'ath fer ter res' hisse'f."
Here Uncle Remus paused to laugh in anticipation of what was to follow.
"Brer Fox ain't mo'n lit he pipe," the old man continued, after a
tantalizing pause, "'fo' Brer Rabbit stick he head in de do' en
holler:--
"Brer Fox! O Brer Fox! You better take yo' walkin'-cane en run down yan.
Comin' 'long des now I year a mighty fuss, en I look 'roun' en dar wuz a
whole passel er folks in yo' watermillion-patch des a-tromplin' 'roun'
en a-t'arin' down. I holler'd at um, but dey ain't pay no 'tention ter
little man lak I is. Make 'a'se, Brer Fox! make 'a'se! Git yo' cane en
run down dar. I'd go wid you myse'f, but my ole 'oman ailin' en I bleedz
ter be makin' my way todes home. You better make 'a'se, Brer Fox, ef you
wanter git de good er yo' watermillions. Run, Brer Fox! run!'
"Wid dat Brer Rabbit dart back in de bushes, en Brer Fox drap he pipe en
grab he walkin'-cane en put out fer he watermillion-patch, w'ich 't wer'
down on de branch; en no sooner is he gone dan ole Brer Rabbit come out
de bushes en make he way in de house.
"He go so easy dat he ain't make no fuss; he look 'roun' en dar wuz de
bag in de cornder. He kotch holt er de bag en sorter feel un it, en time
he do dis, he year sump'n' holler:--
"'Ow! Go 'way! Lem me 'lone! Tu'n me loose! Ow!'
"Brer Rabbit jump back 'stonish'd. Den 'fo' you kin wink yo' eye-ball,
Brer Rabbit slap hisse'f on de leg en break out in a laugh. Den he up'n
'low:--
"'Ef I ain't make no mistakes, dat ar kinder fuss kin come fum nobody in
de roun' worl' but ole Brer Tarrypin.'
"Brer Tarrypin, he holler, sezee: 'Ain't dat Brer Rabbit?'
"'De same,' sezee.
"'Den whirl in en tu'n me out. Meal dus' in my th'oat, grit in my eye,
en I ain't kin git my breff, skacely. Tu'n me out, Brer Rabbit.'
"Brer Tarrypin talk lak somebody down in a well. Brer Rabbit, he holler
back:--
"'Youer lots smarter dan w'at I is, Brer Tarrypin--lots smarter. Youer
smarter en pearter. Peart ez I come yer, you is ahead er me. I know how
you git in de bag, but I dunner how de name er goodness you tie yo'se'f
up in dar, dat I don't.'
"Brer Tarrypin try ter splain, but Brer Rabbit keep on laughin', en he
laugh twel he git he fill er laughin'; en den he tuck'n ontie de bag en
take Brer Tarrypin out en tote 'im 'way off in de woods. Den, w'en he
done dis, Brer Rabbit tuck'n run off en git a great big hornet-nes' w'at
he see w'en he comin' long--"
"A hornet's nest, Uncle Remus?" exclaimed the little boy, in amazement.
"Tooby sho', honey. 'T ain't bin a mont' sence I brung you a great big
hornet-nes', en yer you is axin' dat. Brer Rabbit tuck'n slap he han'
'cross de little hole whar de hornets goes in at, en dar he had um. Den
he tuck'n tuck it ter Brer Fox house, en put it in de bag whar Brer
Tarrypin bin.
"He put de hornet-nes' in dar," continued Uncle Remus, lowering his
voice, and becoming very grave, "en den he tie up de bag des lak he
fine it. Yit 'fo' he put de bag back in de cornder, w'at do dat creetur
do? I ain't settin' yer," said the old man, seizing his chair with both
hands, as if by that means to emphasize the illustration, "I ain't
settin' yer ef dat ar creetur ain't grab dat bag en slam it down 'g'in
de flo', en hit it 'g'in de side er de house twel he git dem ar hornets
all stirred up, en den he put de bag back in de cornder, en go out in de
bushes ter whar Brer Tarrypin waitin', en den bofe un um sot out dar en
wait fer ter see w'at de upshot gwine ter be.
"Bimeby, yer come Brer Fox back fum he watermillion-patch en he look lak
he mighty mad. He strak he cane down 'pun de groun', en do lak he gwine
take he revengeance out'n po' ole Brer Tarrypin. He went in de do', Brer
Fox did, en shot it atter 'im. Brer Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin lissen', but
dey ain't year nothin'.
"But bimeby, fus' news you know, dey year de mos' owdashus racket, tooby
sho'. Seem lak, fum whar Brer Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin settin' dat dey
'uz a whole passel er cows runnin' 'roun' in Brer Fox house. Dey year de
cheers a-fallin', en de table turnin' over, en de crock'ry breakin', en
den de do' flew'd open, en out come Brer Fox, a-squallin' lak de Ole Boy
wuz atter 'im. En sech a sight ez dem t'er creeturs seed den en dar
ain't never bin seed befo' ner sence.
"Dem ar hornets des swarmed on top er Brer Fox. 'Lev'm dozen un um 'ud
hit at one time, en look lak dat ar creetur bleedz ter fine out fer
hisse'f w'at pain en suffin' is. Dey bit 'im en dey stung 'im, en fur ez
Brer Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin kin year 'im, dem hornets 'uz des a-nailin'
'im. Gentermens! dey gun 'im binjer!
"Brer Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin, dey sot dar, dey did, en dey laugh en
laugh, twel bimeby, Brer Rabbit roll over en grab he stomach, en
holler:--
"'Don't, Brer Tarrypin! don't! One giggle mo' en you'll hatter tote me.'
"En dat ain't all," said Uncle Remus, raising his voice. "I know a
little chap w'ich ef he set up yer 'sputin' 'longer me en de t'er
creeturs, he won't have much fun termorrer night."
The hint was sufficient, and the little boy ran out laughing.
LXXI
THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
The day and the night before Christmas were full of pleasure for the
little boy. There was pleasure in the big house, and pleasure in the
humble cabins in the quarters. The peculiar manner in which the negroes
celebrated the beginning of the holidays was familiar to the child's
experience, but strange to his appreciation, and he enjoyed everything
he saw and heard with the ready delight of his years,--a delight, which,
in this instance, had been trained and sharpened, if the expression may
be used, in the small world over which Uncle Remus presided.
The little boy had a special invitation to be present at the marriage of
Daddy Jack and 'Tildy, and he went, accompanied by Uncle Remus and Aunt
Tempy. It seemed to be a very curious affair, but its incongruities made
small impression upon the mind of the child.
'Tildy wore a white dress and had a wreath of artificial flowers in her
hair. Daddy Jack wore a high hat, which he persisted in keeping on his
head during the ceremony, and a coat the tails of which nearly dragged
the floor. His bright little eyes glistened triumphantly, and he grinned
and bowed to everybody again and again. After it was all over, the
guests partook of cake baked by Aunt Tempy, and persimmon beer brewed by
Uncle Remus.
It seemed, however, that 'Tildy was not perfectly happy; for, in
response to a question asked by Aunt Tempy, she said:--
"Yes'm, I'm gwine down de country 'long wid my ole man, an' I lay ef
eve'ything don't go right, I'm gwineter pick up en come right back."
"No-no!" exclaimed Daddy Jack, "'e no come bahck no'n 't all. 'E bin
stay dey-dey wit' 'e nice ole-a man."
"You put yo' pennunce in dat!" said 'Tildy, scornfully. "Dey ain't
nobody kin hol' me w'en I takes a notion, 'cep'n hit's Miss Sally; en,
goodness knows, Miss Sally ain't gwine ter be down dar."
"Who Miss Sally gwine put in de house?" Aunt Tempy asked.
"Humph!" exclaimed 'Tildy, scornfully, "Miss Sally say she gwine take
dat ar Darkess[87] nigger en put 'er in my place. En a mighty nice mess
Darkess gwine ter make un it! Much she know 'bout waitin' on w'ite
folks! Many's en many's de time Miss Sally'll set down in 'er
rockin'-cheer en wish fer 'Tildy--many's de time."
This was 'Tildy's grievance,--the idea that some one could be found to
fill her place; and it is a grievance with which people of greater
importance than the humble negro house-girl are more or less familiar.
But the preparations for the holidays went on in spite of 'Tildy's
grievance. A large platform, used for sunning wheat and seed cotton, was
arranged by the negroes for their dance, and several wagon-loads of
resinous pine--known as lightwood--were placed around about it in little
heaps, so that the occasion might lack no element of brilliancy.
At nightfall the heaps of lightwood were set on fire, and the little
boy, who was waiting impatiently for Uncle Remus to come for him, could
hear the negroes singing, dancing, and laughing. He was just ready to
cry when he heard the voice of his venerable partner.
"Is dey a'er passenger anywhar's 'roun' yer fer Thumptown? De stage done
ready en de hosses a-prancin'. Ef dey's a'er passenger 'roun' yer, I lay
he des better be makin' ready fer ter go."
The old man walked up to the back piazza as he spoke, held out his
strong arms, and the little boy jumped into them with an exclamation of
delight. The child's mother gave Uncle Remus a shawl to wrap around the
child, and this shawl was the cause of considerable trouble, for the
youngster persisted in wrapping it around the old man's head, and so
blinding him that there was danger of his falling. Finally, he put the
little boy down, took off his hat, raised his right hand, and said:--
"Now, den, I bin a-beggin' un you fer ter quit yo' 'haveishness des long
ez I'm a-gwinter, en I ain't gwine beg you no mo', 'kaze I'm des
teetotally wo' out wid beggin', en de mo' I begs de wuss you gits. Now
I'm done! You des go yo' ways en I'll go mine, en my way lays right
spang back ter de big house whar Miss Sally is. Dat's whar I'm a-gwine!"
Uncle Remus started to the house with an exaggerated vigor of movement
comical to behold; but, however comical it may have been, it had its
effect. The little boy ran after him, caught him by the hand, and made
him stop.
"Now, Uncle Remus, _please_ don't go back. I was just playing."
Uncle Remus's anger was all pretence, but he managed to make it very
impressive.
"My playin' days done gone too long ter talk 'bout. When I plays, I
plays wid wuk, dat w'at I plays wid."
"Well," said the child, who had tactics of his own, "if I can't play
with you, I don't know who I am to play with."
This touched Uncle Remus in a very tender spot. He stopped in the path,
took off his spectacles, wiped the glasses on his coat-tail, and said
very emphatically:--
"Now den, honey, des lissen at me. How de name er goodness kin you call
dat playin', w'ich er little mo' en I'd er fell down on top er my head,
en broke my neck en yone too?"
The child promised that he would be very good, and Uncle Remus picked
him up, and the two made their way to where the negroes had congregated.
They were greeted with cries of "Dar's Unk Remus!" "Howdy, Unk Remus!"
"Yer dey is!" "Ole man Remus don't sing; but w'en he do
sing--gentermens! des go 'way!"
All this and much more, so that when Uncle Remus had placed the little
boy upon a corner of the platform, and made him comfortable, he
straightened himself with a laugh and cried out:--
"Howdy, boys! howdy all! I des come up fer ter jine in wid you fer one
'roun' fer de sakes er ole times, ef no mo'."
"I boun' fer Unk Remus!" some one said. "Now des hush en let Unk Remus
'lone!" exclaimed another.
The figure of the old man, as he stood smiling upon the crowd of
negroes, was picturesque in the extreme. He seemed to be taller than all
the rest; and, notwithstanding his venerable appearance, he moved and
spoke with all the vigor of youth. He had always exercised authority
over his fellow-servants. He had been the captain of the corn-pile, the
stoutest at the log-rolling, the swiftest with the hoe, the neatest with
the plough, and the plantation hands still looked upon him as their
leader.
Some negro from the River place had brought a fiddle, and, though it was
a very feeble one, its screeching seemed to annoy Uncle Remus.
"Put up dat ar fiddle!" he exclaimed, waving his hand. "Des put 'er up;
she sets my toof on aidje. Put 'er up en les go back ter ole times. Dey
ain't no room fer no fiddle 'roun' yer, 'kaze w'en you gits me started
dat ar fiddle won't be nowhars."
"Dat's so," said the man with the fiddle, and the irritating instrument
was laid aside.
"Now, den," Uncle Remus went on, "dey's a little chap yer dat you'll all
come ter know mighty well one er deze odd-come-shorts, en dish yer
little chap ain't got so mighty long fer ter set up 'long wid us. Dat
bein' de case we oughter take 'n put de bes' foot fo'mus' fer ter
commence wid."
"You lead, Unk Remus! You des lead en we'll foller."
Thereupon the old man called to the best singers among the negroes and
made them stand near him. Then he raised his right hand to his ear and
stood perfectly still. The little boy thought he was listening for
something, but presently Uncle Remus began to slap himself gently with
his left hand, first upon the leg and then upon the breast. The other
negroes kept time to this by a gentle motion of their feet, and finally,
when the thump--thump--thump of this movement had regulated itself to
suit the old man's fancy, he broke out with what may be called a
Christmas dance song.
His voice was strong, and powerful, and sweet, and its range was as
astonishing as its volume. More than this, the melody to which he tuned
it, and which was caught up by a hundred voices almost as sweet and as
powerful as his own, was charged with a mysterious and pathetic
tenderness.
The fine company of men and women at the big house--men and women who
had made the tour of all the capitals of Europe--listened with swelling
hearts and with tears in their eyes as the song rose and fell upon the
air--at one moment a tempest of melody, at another a heart-breaking
strain breathed softly and sweetly to the gentle winds. The song that
the little boy and the fine company heard was something like
this--ridiculous enough when put in cold type, but powerful and
thrilling when joined to the melody with which the negroes had invested
it:--
_MY HONEY, MY LOVE_
_Hit's a mighty fur ways up de Far'well Lane,
My honey, my love!
You may ax Mister Crow, you may ax Mr. Crane,
My honey, my love!
Dey'll make you a bow, en dey'll tell you de same,
My honey, my love!
Hit's a mighty fur ways fer to go in de night,
My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight--
My honey, my love!_
_Mister Mink, he creep twel he wake up de snipe,
My honey, my love!
Mister Bull-Frog holler,_ Come-a-light my pipe _,
My honey, my love!
En de Pa'tridge ax,_ Ain't yo' peas ripe?
My honey, my love!
Better not walk erlong dar much atter night,
My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight--
My honey, my love!_
_De Bully-Bat fly mighty close ter de groun',
My honey, my love!
Mister Fox, he coax 'er,_ Do come down!
My honey, my love!
Mister Coon, he rack all 'roun' en 'roun',
My honey, my love!
In de darkes' night, oh, de nigger, he's a sight!
My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight--
My honey, my love!_
_Oh, flee, Miss Nancy, flee ter my knee,
My honey, my love!
'Lev'm big fat coons lives in one tree,
My honey, my love!
Oh, ladies all, won't you marry me?
My honey, my love!
Tu'n lef', tu'n right, we 'ull dance all night,
My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight--
My honey, my love!_
_De big Owl holler en cry fer his mate,
My honey, my love!
Oh, don't stay long! Oh, don't stay late!
My honey, my love!
Hit ain't so mighty fur ter de Good-by Gate,
My honey, my love!
Whar we all got ter go w'en we sing out de night,
My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight--
My honey, my love!_
After a while the song was done, and other songs were sung; but it was
not long before Uncle Remus discovered that the little boy was fast
asleep. The old man took the child in his arms and carried him to the
big house, singing softly in his ear all the way; and somehow or other
the song seemed to melt and mingle in the youngster's dreams. He thought
he was floating in the air, while somewhere near all the negroes were
singing, Uncle Remus's voice above all the rest; and then, after he had
found a resting-place upon a soft warm bank of clouds, he thought he
heard the songs renewed. They grew fainter and fainter in his dreams
until at last (it seemed) Uncle Remus leaned over him and sang
GOOD-NIGHT
FOOTNOTE:
[87] Dorcas.
+-------------------------------------------+
|Transcriber's Note: |
| |
|Punctuation and inconsistencies in language|
|and dialect found in the original book have|
|been retained. |
+-------------------------------------------+
End of Project Gutenberg's Nights With Uncle Remus, by Joel Chandler Harris