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.

I

Mr. Fox and Miss Goose

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.