Sidney Lanier, who is thoroughly familiar with the metrical peculiarities of negro songs, into the exhaustive investigation which has resulted in the publication of his scholarly treatise on “The Science of English Verse.”

The difference between the dialect of the legends and that of the character-sketches, slight as it is, marks the modifications which the speech of the negro has undergone even where education has played no part in reforming it. Indeed, save in the remote country districts, the dialect of the legends has nearly disappeared. I am perfectly well aware that the character-sketches are without permanent interest, but they are embodied here for the purpose of presenting a phase of negro character wholly distinct from that which I have endeavored to preserve in the legends. Only in this shape, and with all the local allusions, would it be possible to adequately represent the shrewd observations, the curious retorts, the homely thrusts, the quaint comments, and the humorous philosophy of the race of which Uncle Remus is a type.

If the reader not familiar with plantation life will imagine that the myth-stories of Uncle Remus are told night after night to a little boy by an old negro who appears to be venerable enough to have lived during the period which he describes — who has nothing but pleasant memories of the discipline of slavery — and who has all the prejudices of caste and pride of family that were the natural results of the system; if the reader can imagine all this, he will find little difficulty in appreciating and sympathizing with the air of affectionate superiority which Uncle Remus assumes as he proceeds to unfold the mysteries of plantation lore to a little child who is a product of that practical reconstruction which has been going on to some extent since the war in spite of the politicians. Uncle Remus describes that reconstruction in his “Story of the War,” and I may as well add here for the benefit of the curious that that story is almost literally true.

J. C. H.

LEGENDS

OF THE OLD

PLANTATION.

I.

UNCLE REMUS INITIATES
THE LITTLE BOY.

“O ne evening recently, the lady whom Uncle Remus calls “Miss Sally” missed her little seven-year-old. Making search for him through the house and through the yard, she heard the sound of voices in the old man’s cabin, and, looking through the window, saw the child sitting by Uncle Remus. His head rested against the old man’s arm, and he was gazing with an expression of the most intense interest into the rough, weather-beaten face, that beamed so kindly upon him. This is what “Miss Sally” heard:

“Bimeby, one day, arter Brer Fox bin doin’ all dat he could fer ter ketch Brer Rabbit, en Brer Rabbit bin doin’ all he could fer ter keep ‘im fum it, Brer Fox say to hisse’f dat he’d put up a game on Brer Rabbit, en he ain’t mo’n got de wuds out’n his mouf twel Brer Rabbit come a lopin’ up de big road, lookin’ des ez plump, en ez fat, en ez sassy ez a Moggin hoss in a barley-patch.

“’Hol’ on dar, Brer Rabbit,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

“’I ain’t got time, Brer Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, sorter mendin’ his licks.

“’I wanter have some confab wid you, Brer Rabbit,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

“’All right, Brer Fox, but you better holler fum whar you stan’. I’m monstus full er fleas dis mawnin’,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“’I seed Brer B’ar yistiddy,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’en he sorter rake me over de coals kaze you en me ain’t make frens en live naberly, en I tole ‘im dat I’d see you.’

“Den Brer Rabbit scratch one year wid his off hine-foot sorter jub’usly, en den he ups en sez, sezee:

“’All a settin’, Brer Fox. Spose’n you drap roun’ termorrer en take dinner wid me. We ain’t got no great doin’s at our house, but I speck de ole ‘oman en de chilluns kin sorter scramble roun’ en git up sump’n fer ter stay yo’ stummuck.’

“’I’m ‘gree’ble, Brer Rabbit,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

“’Den I’ll ‘pen’ on you,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“Nex’ day, Mr. Rabbit an’ Miss Rabbit got up soon, ‘fo’ day, en raided on a garden like Miss Sally’s out dar, en got some cabbiges, en some roas’n years, en some sparrer-grass, en dey fix up a smashin’ dinner. Bimeby one er de little Rabbits, playin’ out in de backyard, come runnin’ in hollerin’, ‘Oh, ma! oh, ma! I seed Mr. Fox a comin’!’ En den Brer Rabbit he tuck de chilluns by der years en make um set down, en den him en Miss Rabbit sorter dally roun’ waitin’ for Brer Fox. En dey keep on waiting, but no Brer Fox ain’t come. Atter ‘while Brer Rabbit goes to de do’, easy like, en peep out, en dar, stickin’ out fum behime de cornder, wuz de tipeen’ er Brer Fox tail. Den Brer Rabbit shot de do’ en sot down, en put his paws behime his years en begin fer ter sing:

De place wharbouts you spill de grease,

Right dar your boun’ ter slide,

An’ whar you fine a bunch er ha’r,

You’ll sholy fine de hide.’

“Nex’ day, Brer Fox sont word by Mr. Mink, en skuze hisse’f kaze he wuz too sick fer ter come, en he ax Brer Rabbit fer ter come en take dinner wid him, en Brer Rabbit say he wuz ‘gree’ble.

“Bimeby, w’en de shadders wuz at der shortes’, Brer Rabbit he sorter brush up en santer down ter Brer Fox’s house, en w’en he got dar, he yer somebody groanin’, en he look in de do’ en dar he see Brer Fox settin’ up in a rockin’ cheer all wrop up wid flannil, en he look mighty weak. Brer Rabbit look all ‘roun’, he did, but he ain’t see no dinner. De dish-pan wuz settin’ on de table, en close by wuz a kyarvin’ knife.

“’Look like you gwineter have chicken for dinner, Brer Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“’Yes, Brer Rabbit, deyer nice, en fresh, en tender,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

“Den Brer Rabbit sorter pull his mustarsh, en say: ‘You ain’t got no calamus root, is you, Brer Fox? I done got so now dat I can’t eat no chicken ‘ceppin she’s seasoned up wid calamus root.’ En wid dat Brer Rabbit lipt out er de do’ and dodge ‘mong de bushes, en sot dar watchin’ fer Brer Fox; en he ain’t watch long, nudder, kaze Brer Fox flung off de flannil en crope out er de house en got whar he could cloze in on Brer Rabbit, en bimeby Brer Rabbit holler out: ‘Oh, Brer Fox! I’ll des put yo’ calamus root out yer on dish yer stump. Better come git it while hit’s fresh,’ and wid dat Brer Rabbit gallop off home. En Brer Fox ain’t never kotch ‘im yit, en w’at’s mo’, honey, he ain’t gwineter.”

II.

THE WONDERFUL
TAR-BABY STORY.

“Didn’t the fox never catch the rabbit, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy the next evening.

“He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho’s you bawn — Brer Fox did. One day atter Brer Rabbit fool ’im wid dat calamus root, Brer Fox went ter wuk en got ’im some tar, en mix it wid some turkentime, en fix up a contrapshun wat he call a Tar-Baby, en he tuck dish yer Tar-Baby en he sot ‘er in de big road, en den he lay off in de bushes fer ter see wat de news wuz gwineter be. En he didn’t hatter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby here come Brer Rabbit pacin’ down de road — lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity — dez ez sassy ez a jay-bird. Brer Fox, he lay low. Brer Rabbit come prancin’ ’long twel he spy de Tar-Baby, en den he fotch up on his behime legs like he wuz ’stonished.