UNCLE REMUS made his appearance recently with his right arm in a
sling and his head bandaged to that extent that it looked like
the stick made to accompany the Centennial bass-drum. The old
man evidently expected an attack all around, for he was unusually
quiet, and fumbled in his pockets in an embarrassed manner. He
was not mistaken. The agricultural editor was the first to open
fire:
"Well, you old villain! what have you been up to now?"
"It is really singular," remarked a commencement orator, "that
not even an ordinary holiday--a holiday, it seems to me, that
ought to arouse all the latent instincts of patriotism in the
bosom of American citizens--can occur without embroiling some of
our most valuable citizens. It is really singular to me that such
a day should be devoted by a certain class of our population to
broils and fisticuffs."
This final moral sentiment, which was altogether an impromptu
utterance, and which was delivered with the air of one who
addresses a vast but invisible audience of young ladies in white
dresses and blue sashes, seemed to add to the embarrassment of
Uncle Remus, and at the same time to make an explanation
necessary.
"Dey ain't none er you young w'ite men never had no 'casion fer
ter strike up wid one er deze Mobile niggers?" asked Uncle Remus.
"'Kaze ef you iz, den you knows wharbouts de devilment come in.
Show me a Mobile nigger," continued the old man, an I'll show
you a nigger dat's marked for de chain-gang. Hit may be de fote
er de fif' er July, er hit may be de twelf' er Jinawerry, but
w'en a Mobile nigger gits in my naberhood right den an' dar
trubble sails in an' 'gages bode fer de season. I speck I'm ez
fon' er deze Nunited States ez de nex' man w'at knows dat de Buro
is busted up; but long ez Remus kin stan' on his hin' legs no
Mobile nigger can't flip inter dis town longer no Wes' P'int
'schushun an' boss 'roun' 'mong de cullud fokes. Dat's me, up an'
down, an' I boun' dere's a nigger some'rs on de road dis blessid
day dat's got dis put away in his 'membunce."
"How did he happen to get you down and maul you in this
startling manner?" asked the commencement orator, with a tone
of exaggerated sympathy in his voice.
"Maul who?" exclaimed Uncle Remus, indignantly. "Maul who? Boss,
de nigger dat mauled me ain't bo'nded yit, an' dey er got ter
have anudder war 'fo one is bo'nded."
"Well, what was the trouble?"
"Hit wuz sorter dis way, boss. I wuz stannin' down dere by Mars
John Jeems's bank, chattin' wid Sis Tempy, w'ich I ain't seed 'er
befo' now gwine on seven year, an' watchin' de folks trompin' by,
w'en one er deze yer slick-lookin' niggers, wid a bee-gum hat an'
a brass watch ez big ez de head uv a beerbar'l, come long an'
bresh up agin me--so. Dere wuz two un um, an' dey went long
gigglin' an' laffin' like a nes'ful er yaller-hammers. Bimeby dey
come long agin an' de smart Ellick brush up by me once mo'. Den I
say to myse'f, 'I lay I fetch you ef you gimme anudder invite.'
An', sho' 'nuff, yer he come agin, an' dis time he rub a piece er
watermillion rime under my lef' year."
"What did you do?"
"Me? I'm a mighty long-sufferin' nigger, but he hadn't no mo'n
totch me 'fo' I flung dese yer bones in his face." Here Uncle
Remus held up his damaged hand triumphantly. "I sorter sprained
my han', boss, but dog my cats if I don't bleeve I spattered de
nigger's eyeballs on de groun', and w'en he riz his count'nence
look fresh like beef-haslett. I look mighty spindlin' an' puny
now, don't I, boss?" inquired the old man, with great apparent
earnestness.
"Rather."
"Well, you des oughter see me git my Affikin up. Dey useter call
me er bad nigger long 'fo' de war, an hit looks like ter me dat I
gits wuss an' wuss. Brer John Henry say dat I oughter subdue my
rashfulness, an' I don't 'spute it, but tu'n a Mobile nigger
loose in dis town, fote er July or no fote er July, an', me er
him, one is got ter lan' in jail. Hit's proned inter me."