'
"Well, suh," said Uncle Remus, laughing heartily, "Brer Fox
ain't got no better sense dan ter b'lieve all dat truck, so he tuck
en shove Brer Mud Turkle 'long twel he got 'im in de mud, en
den he 'gun ter rub on his back like somebody curryin' a hoss.
"Well, suh," said Uncle Remus, laughing heartily, "Brer Fox
ain't got no better sense dan ter b'lieve all dat truck, so he tuck
en shove Brer Mud Turkle 'long twel he got 'im in de mud, en
den he 'gun ter rub on his back like somebody curryin' a hoss.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v12 - Gre to Hen
I sot dar by yo' bed, en I say ter myse'f dat ef I wuz de
ole Brer Wolf en you wuz a young rabbit, I wouldn't git hongry
nuff fer ter eat you, caze you wuz too bony. "
"When did Brother Wolf want to eat the young rabbit, Uncle
Remus? " inquired the little boy, thinking that he saw the sug-
gestion of a story here.
He was not mistaken.
The old man regarded him with well-
feigned astonishment.
"Ain't I done tole you 'bout dat, honey? Des run over in yo'
min', en see ef I ain't. "
The youngster shook his head most emphatically.
"Well," said Uncle Remus, "ole Brer Wolf want ter eat de
little Rabs all de time, but dey wuz one time in 'tickeler dat dey
make his mouf water, en dat wuz de time when him en Brer
Fox wuz visitin' at Brer Rabbit's house. De times wuz hard,
but de little Rabs wuz slick en fat, en des ez frisky ez kittens.
Ole Brer Rabbit wuz off som'ers, en Brer Wolf en Brer Fox wuz
waitin' fer 'im. De little Rabs wuz playin' 'roun', en dough dey
wuz little dey kep' der years open.
Brer Wolf look at um out'n
## p. 6965 (#353) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6965
de cornder uv his eyes, en lick his chops en wink at Brer Fox,
en Brer Fox wunk back at 'im. Brer Wolf cross his legs, en den
Brer Fox cross his'n. De little Rabs, dey frisk en dey frolic.
"Brer Wolf ho'd his head to'rds um en 'low, 'Dey er mighty
fat. '
"Brer Fox grin, en say, 'Man, hush yo' mouf! '
"De little Rabs frisk en frolic, en play furder off, but dey
keep der years primed.
"Brer Wolf look at um en 'low, 'Ain't dey slick en purty? '
"Brer Fox chuckle, en say, 'Oh, I wish you'd hush! '
"De little Rabs play off furder en furder, but dey keep der
years open.
"Brer Wolf smack his mouf, en 'low, 'Dey er joosy en tender. '
"Brer Fox roll his eye en say, 'Man, ain't you gwine ter
hush up, 'fo' you gi' me de fidgets? '
"De little Rabs dey frisk en dey frolic, but dey hear eve'y-
thing dat pass.
"Brer Wolf lick out his tongue quick, en 'low, 'Less us whirl
in en eat um. '
"Brer Fox say, 'Man, you make me hongry! Please hush up! '
"De little Rabs play off furder en furder, but dey know
'zackly what gwine on. Dey frisk en dey frolic, but dey got der
years wide open.
"Den Brer Wolf make a bargain wid Brer Fox dat when
Brer Rabbit git home, one un um ud git 'im wropped up in a
'spute 'bout fust one thing en den anudder, whiles tudder one ud
go out en ketch de little Rabs.
"Brer Fox 'low, 'You better do de talkin', Brer Wolf, en
lemme coax de little Rabs off. I got mo' winnin' ways wid chil-
luns dan what you is. '
"Brer Wolf say, 'You can't make gourd out'n punkin, Brer
Fox. I ain't no talker. Yo' tongue lots slicker dan mine. I kin
bite lots better'n I kin talk. Dem little Rabs don't want no
coaxin'; dey wants ketchin'-dat what dey wants. You keep ole
Brer Rabbit busy, en I'll ten' ter de little Rabs. '
"Bofe un um know'd dat whichever cotch de little Rabs, de
tudder one ain't gwine smell hide ner hair un um, en dey flew
up en got ter 'sputin, en whiles dey was 'sputin' en gwine on
dat-a-way, de little Rabs put off down de road, blickety-blickety,
for ter meet der daddy. Kase dey know'd ef dey stayed dar
dey'd git in big trouble.
## p. 6966 (#354) ###########################################
6966
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
"Dey went off down de road, de little Rabs did, en dey ain't
gone so mighty fur 'fo' dey meet der daddy comin' 'long home.
He had his walkin' cane in one han' en a jug in de udder, en he
look ez big ez life en twice ez natchul.
"De little Rabs run to'rds 'im en holler, 'What you got,
daddy? What you got, daddy? '
"Brer Rabbit say, 'Nothin' but er jug er 'lasses. '
"De little Rabs holler, 'Lemme tas'e, daddy! Lemme tas'e,
daddy! '
"Den ole Brer Rabbit sot de jug down in de road en let um
lick de stopper a time er two, en atter dey done get der win'
back, dey up'n tell 'im 'bout de 'greement dat Brer Wolf en Brer
Fox done make, en 'bout de 'spute what dey had. Ole Brer
Rabbit sorter laugh ter hisse'f, en den he pick up his jug en jog
on to'rds home. When he git mos' dar he stop en tell de little
Rabs fer stay back dar out er sight, en wait twel he call um 'fo'
dey come. Dey wuz mighty glad ter do des like dis, kaze dey'd
done seed Brer Wolf tushes, en Brer Fox red tongue, en dey
huddle up in de broom-sage ez still ez a mouse in de flour-bar'l.
"Brer Rabbit went on home, en sho 'nuff, he fin' Brer Wolf
en Brer Fox waitin' fer 'im. Dey 'd done settle der 'spute, en
dey wuz settin' dar des ez smilin' ez a basket er chips. Dey
pass de time er day wid Brer Rabbit, en den dey ax 'im what
he got in de jug. Brer Rabbit hummed en haw'd, en looked
sorter sollum.
"Brer Wolf look like he wuz bleedz ter fin' out what wuz in
de jug, en he keep a pesterin' Brer Rabbit 'bout it; but Brer
Rabbit des shake his head en look sollum, en talk 'bout de wed-
der, en de craps, en one thing en anudder. Bimeby Brer Fox
make out he wuz gwine atter a drink er water, en he slip out,
he did, fer ter ketch de little Rabs. Time he git out de house,
Brer Rabbit look all 'roun' ter see ef he lis'nen, en den he went
ter de jug en pull out de stopper.
"He han' it ter Brer Wolf en say, 'Tas'e dat. '
'lasses, en smack his mouf.
Hit sho is good. ’
"Brer Rabbit git up close ter Brer Wolf en say, 'Don't tell
nobody. Hit's Fox-blood. '
"Brer Wolf tas'e de
'What kinder truck dat?
"Brer Wolf look 'stonish'. He 'low, 'How you know? '
"Brer Rabbit say, 'I knows what I knows! '
"Brer Wolf say, 'Gimme some mo'! '
He 'low,
## p. 6967 (#355) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6967
"Brer Rabbit say, 'You kin git some mo' fer yo'se'f easy
'nuff; en de fresher 'tis, de better. '
"Brer Wolf 'low, 'How you know? '
"Brer Rabbit say, 'I knows what I knows! '
"Wid dat Brer Wolf stepped out, en start to'rds Brer Fox.
Brer Fox seed 'im comin', en he sorter back off. Brer Wolf got
little closer, en bimeby he make a dash at Brer Fox. Brer Fox
dodge, he did, en den he put out fer de woods wid Brer Wolf
right at his heels.
"Den atter so long a time, atter Brer Rabbit got done
laughin', he call up de little Rabs, gi' um some 'lasses fer sup-
per, en spanked um en sont um ter bed. "
"Well, what did he spank 'em for, Uncle Remus? " asked the
little boy.
"Ter make um grow, honey,—des ter make um grow! Young
creeturs is got ter have der hide loosen'd dat-a-way, same ez
young chilluns. "
"Did Brother Wolf catch Brother Fox? "
"How I know, honey? Much ez I kin do ter foller de tale
when it keeps in de big road, let 'lone ter keep up wid dem
creeturs whiles dey gone sailin' thoo de woods. De tale ain't
persoo on atter um no furder dan de place whar dey make der
disappear'nce. I tell you now, when I goes in de woods, I got
ter know whar I'm gwine. "
BROTHER MUD TURTLE'S TRICKERY
From Uncle Remus and his Friends. Copyright 1892 by Joel Chandler Har-
ris, and reprinted here by permission of and special arrangement with
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , publishers, Boston.
DON'T like deze yer tales 'bout folks, no how you kin fix um,"
said Uncle Remus after an unusually long pause, during
which he rubbed his left hand with the right, in order to
run the rheumatism out. "No, suh, I don't like um, kaze folks
can't play no tricks, ner git even wid der neighbors, widout
hurtin' somebody's feelin's, er breakin' some law er 'nudder, er
gwine 'ginst what de preacher say.
"Look at dat man what I des been tellin' you 'bout. He let
de udder man fool 'im en ketch 'im, en mo' dan dat, he let um
tote 'im off de calaboose. He oughter been tuck dar; I ain't
་་
"I
## p. 6968 (#356) ###########################################
6968
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
'sputin' dat; yit ef dat had been some er de creeturs, dey'd er
sholy got loose fum dar.
-
"When it comes ter talkin' 'bout gittin' loose," Uncle Remus
continued, settling himself comfortably in his chair, "I git ter
runnin' on in my min' 'bout ole Brer Fox en ole Brer Mud
Turkle. Dey had some kinder fallin' out once 'pon a time - I
dunner what. I speck hit's got a tale hung on it, but de tale
done switch itself out'n my min'. Yit dey'd done had a fallin'
out, en dey wa'nt no love los' betwixt um. Well, suh, one day
Brer Fox wuz gwine down de creek fishin'. Little ez you may
think un it, Brer Fox wuz monst'us fon' er fishes, so eve'y chance
he got he'd go fishin'. "
"On Sunday, too? " inquired the little boy. He had been
lectured on that subject not long before.
"Well, I tell you now," replied Uncle Remus laughing, "Brer
Fox is like 'oman's tongue; he ain't got no Sunday. "
"What kind of bait did he have? " the youngster asked.
"What he want wid bait, honey? He ain't got no bait, en no
pole, en no hook. He des went down de creek, en when he
come ter a good place, he'd wade in en feel und' de rocks en
und' de bank. Sometimes he'd ketch a horny-head, en den ag'in
he'd ketch a peerch. Well, suh, he went on en went on, en he
had bad luck. Look like de fishes wuz all gone fum home, but
he kep' on en kep' on. He 'low ter hisse'f dat he bleedz ter
have some fish fer dinner. One time he put his han' in a craw-
fish nes' en got nipt, en anudder time he tetched a eel, en it
made de col' chills run 'cross 'im. Yit he kep' on.
"Bimeby Brer Fox come ter whar ole Brer Mud Turkle live
at. I dunner what make ole Brer Mud Turkle live in such a
damp place like dat. Look like him en his folks 'ud have a bad
col' de whole blessid time. But dar he wuz in de water und' de
bank, layin' dar fas' asleep, dreamin' 'bout de good times he'd
have when de freshet come. He 'uz layin' dar wid his eyes shot,
when de fus' news he know he feel sump'n 'nudder fumblin'
'roun' his head. 'Twan't nobody but ole Brer Fox feelin' 'roun'
und' de bank fer fishes.
"Brer Mud Turkle move his head, he did, but de fumblin'
kep' on, en bimeby he open his mouf en Brer Fox fumble en
fumble, twel bimeby he got 'is han' in dar, en time he do dat,
ole Brer Mud Turkle shet down on it. En I let you know,"
continued Uncle Remus, shaking his head slowly from side to
## p. 6969 (#357) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6969
side as if to add emphasis to the statement, "I let you know
when ole Brer Mud Turkle shet down on yo' han', you got
ter cut off his head en den wait twel it thunder, 'fo' he turn
loose.
"Well, suh, he shet down on ole Brer Fox, en ef you'd 'a'
been anywhars in dat settlement you'd 'a' heard squallin' den ef
you ain't never hear none befo'.
"Brer Fox des hilt his head back en holler 'Ouch! Ouch!
What dis got me? Ouch! Turn me aloose! Ouch! Somebody
better run here quick! Laws a massy! Ouch! '
"But Brer Mud Turkle he helt on, en he feel so much com-
fort dat he'd er in about went ter asleep ag'in ef Brer Fox
hadn't er snatched en jerked so hard en a-holler'd so loud.
"Brer Fox holler, en Brer Mud Turkle hol' on; Brer Fox
holler, en Brer Mud Turkle hol' on. Dar dey wuz, nip en tug,
holler en hol' fas'! Bimeby it hurt so bad dat Brer Fox des
fetched one loud squall en made one big pull, en out come ole
Brer Mud Turkle, a-hangin' ter his han'.
"Well, suh, when dey got out on de bank en Brer Mud Tur-
kle sorter woke up, he tuck'n turn Brer Fox loose widout waitin'
fer de thunder. He ax. Brer Fox pardon, but Brer Fox he ain't
got no pardon fer ter gi' 'im.
"Brer Mud Turkle make like he skeer'd. He 'low: 'I 'clar'
ter gracious, Brer Fox! ef I'd a know'd 'twuz you, I'd 'a' never
shet down on you in de roun' worl'; kaze I know what a danger-
some man you is. I know'd yo' daddy befo' you, en he wuz a
dangersome man. '
He say:
I got you
"But Brer Fox 'fuse ter lissen ter dat kinder talk.
'I been wantin' you a long time, en now I got you.
right where I want you, en when I get thoo wid you, yo' own
folks wouldn't know you ef dey wuz ter meet you in de middle
er de road. '
"Brer Mud Turkle cry on one side his face en laugh on
tudder. He 'low, 'Please, suh, Brer Fox, des let me off dis
time, en I'll be good friend 'long wid you all de balance er de
time. Please, suh, Brer Fox, let me off dis time! '
"Brer Fox say, 'Oh, yes! I'll let you off; I'm all de time
a-lettin' off folks what bite me ter de bone! Oh yes! I'll let you
off, but I'll take en skin you fust. '
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, 'Spozen I ain't got no hide on me;
den what you gwine to do? '
## p. 6970 (#358) ###########################################
6970
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
**
;
"Brer Fox grit his tushes. He say, 'Ef you ain't got no
hide, I'll fin' de place whar de hide oughter be-dat's what! '
"Wid dat he make a grab at Brer Mud Turkle's neck, but
Brer Mud Turkle draw his head en his foots und' his shell, en
quile up his tail, en dar he wuz. He so ole en tough he got
moss on his shell. Brer Fox fool wid 'im, en gnyaw en gouge
at de shell, but he des might ez well gnyaw en gouge at a flint
rock. He work en he work, but 'tain't do no good; he can't
git Brer Mud Turkle out er his house no way he kin fix it.
"Ole Brer Mud Turkle talk at 'im. He 'low, 'Hard ain't no
name fer it, Brer Fox! You'll be jimber-jaw'd long 'fo' you
gnyaw thoo my hide! '
"Brer Fox gnyaw en gouge, en gouge en gnyaw.
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, 'Dey ain't but one way fer ter git
dat shell off, Brer Fox! '
"Brer Fox 'fuse ter make answer. He gouge en gnyaw, en
gnyaw en gouge.
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, 'Tushes ain't gwine git it off! Claws
ain't gwine git it off! Yit mud en water will do de work. Now
I'm gwine ter sleep. '
"Brer Fox gnyaw en gouge, en gouge en gnyaw, en bimeby
he git tired, mo' speshually when he hear ole Brer Mud Turkle
layin' in dar snorin' des like somebody sawin' gourds. Den he
sot down en watch Brer Mud Turkle, but he ain't move. He do
des like he sleep.
"Den Brer Fox git de idee dat he'll play a trick on Brer
Mud Turkle. He holler out, 'Good-by, Brer Mud Turkle! You
er too much fer me dis time. My han' hurt me so bad I got
ter go home en git a poultice on it. But I'll pay you back ef
hit's de las' ac'! '
"Brer Fox make like he gwine off, but he des run 'roun' en
hid in de bushes. Yit does you speck he gwine fool Brer Mud
Turkle? Shoo, honey! Dat creetur got moss on his back, en he
got so much sense in his head his eyes look red. He des lay
dar, ole Brer Mud Turkle did, en sun hisse'f same as ef he wuz
on a rock in de creek. He lay dar so still dat Brer Fox got his
impatients stirred up, en he come out de bushes en went ter
Brer Mud Turkle en shuck 'im up en ax'd 'im how he gwine git
de shell off.
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, Tushes ain't gwine git it off! Claws
ain't gwine git it off! Yit mud en water will do de work! '
## p. 6971 (#359) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6971
"Brer Fox say, 'Don't riddle me no riddles.
like a man how I gwine ter git yo' shell off! '
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, 'Put me in de mud en rub my back
hard ez you kin. Den de shell bleedz ter come off. Dat de
reason dey calls me Brer Mud Turkle.
'
"Well, suh," said Uncle Remus, laughing heartily, "Brer Fox
ain't got no better sense dan ter b'lieve all dat truck, so he tuck
en shove Brer Mud Turkle 'long twel he got 'im in de mud, en
den he 'gun ter rub on his back like somebody curryin' a hoss.
What happen den? Well, dey ain't nothin' 't all happen, 'ceppin'
what bleedz ter happen. De mo' he rub on de back, de deeper
Brer Mud Turkle go in de mud. Bimeby, whiles Brer Fox wuz
rubbin' right hard, Brer Mud Turkle sorter gun hisse'f a flirt en
went down out er reach. Co'se dis make Brer Fox splunge in
de water, en a little mo' en he'd a drown'ded right den en dar.
He went out on de bank, he did, en whiles he settin' dar dryin'
hisse'f he know'd dat Brer Mud Turkle wuz laughin' at 'im, kaze
he kin see de signs un it. "
The little boy laughed, but he shook his head incredulously.
"Well," said Uncle Remus, "ef you gwine ter 'spute dat, you
des ez well ter stan' up en face me down 'bout de whole tale.
Kaze when Brer Fox see bubbles risin' on de water en follerin'
atter one anudder, he bleedz ter know dat Brer Mud Turkle
down under dar laughin' fit ter kill hisse'f. "
This settled the matter. The child was convinced.
Up en tell me
UNCLE REMUS AT THE TELEPHONE
From 'Uncle Remus and his Friends. Copyright 1892 by Joel Chandler Har-
ris, and reprinted here by permission of and special arrangement with
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , publishers, Boston.
Ο
NE night recently, as Uncle Remus's Miss Sally was sitting
by the fire sewing and singing softly to herself, she heard
the old man come into the back yard and enter the dining-
room, where a bright fire was still burning in the grate. Every-
thing had been cleared away. The cook had gone, and the
house-girl had disappeared, and the little boy was asleep. Uncle
Remus had many privileges in the house of the daughter of his
old mistress and master, and one of these was to warm himself
by the dining-room fire whenever he felt lonely, especially at
## p. 6972 (#360) ###########################################
6972
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
night. To the lady there was a whimsical suggestion of pathos
in everything the old negro said and did; and yet her attitude
toward Uncle Remus was one of bustling criticism and deprecia-
tion. By leaning back in her chair a little, she could see him as
he sat before the fire enjoying the warmth.
"I should think it was time for you to be in bed," she ex-
claimed.
"No'm, 'tain't," responded Uncle Remus. "I year tell dat
w'en ole folks git ter bed soon, dey feelin's bin hurted; en good-
ness knows dey ain't nobody hurted my feelin's dis day. "
"Well, there isn't anything in there that you can pick up.
I've had everything put under lock and key. "
"Yessum, dey is sump'n n'er in yer, too, kaze yer Mars John
supper settin' right down yer 'fo' de fier, en little mo' hit 'ud a
bin dry spang up, if I hadn't 'a' drapt in des w'en I did. I year
Mars John tell dat ar nigger 'oman w'at you call yo' cook fer ter
have 'im some fried aigs fer supper, en ef deze ain't fried en
dried I ain't never see none w'at is. W'en Mars John come, you
kin set plum' in dar en year 'im crack um up in his mouf, same
lak cow chawin' fodder. Las' Sat'd'y night Mars John fotch
some fried isters home, en ef dish yer nigger 'oman stay on dis
hill many mo' days, he ull git all his vittles cooked down town
en fetch it home in a baskit. Whar Mars John now? "
Just then there was a call at the telephone.
The little gong
rattled away like a house on fire. As the lady went to answer
it, Uncle Remus rose from his chair and crept on his tiptoes to
the door that opened into the sitting-room. He heard his Miss
Sally talking:
"Well, what's wanted? Oh-is that you? Well, I could-
n't imagine . No. Fast asleep too long ago to talk
about . . Why of course! No! . . . Why should I be fright-
ened! . I declare! you ought to be ashamed . . . Remus
is here
Two hours! I think you are horrid mean! . . .
By-by! "
Uncle Remus stood looking suspiciously at the telephone after
his Miss Sally had turned away.
·
"Miss Sally," he said presently, "wuz you talkin' ter Mars
John ? »
"Certainly. Who did you suppose it was? "
"Wharbouts wuz Mars John? "
"At his office. "
## p. 6973 (#361) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6973
"Way down yan on Yallerbamer street? "
"Yes. "
At this piece of information Uncle Remus emitted a groan
that was full of doubt and pity, and went into the dining-room.
His Miss Sally laughed, and then an idea seemed to strike her.
She called him back, and went again to the telephone.
"Is that you, Central? . . . Please connect eleven-forty with
fourteen-sixty. " There was a fluttering sound in the instrument,
and then the lady said: "Yes, it's me! . . . Here's Remus.
Yes, but he wants to talk to you. "
Here, sim-
"Here, Remus, take this and put it to your ear.
pleton! it won't hurt you. "
Uncle Remus took the ear-piece and handled it as though it
had been a loaded pistol. He tried to look in at both ends, and
then he placed it to his ear and grinned sheepishly. He heard
a thin, sepulchral, but familiar voice calling out, "Hello, Re-
mus! " and his sheepish grin gave place to an expression of
uneasy astonishment.
"Hello, Remus! Hello-ello-ello-ello-o-o! "
"Is dat you, Mars John? "
"Of course it is, you bandy-legged old villain.
time to be standing here. What do you want? "
"How in de name er God you git in dar, Mars John? "
"In where? "
>>
>>
"In dish yer-in dish yer appleratus.
"Oh, you be fiddlestick! What do
"Mars John, kin you see meer is she all dark in dar? »
"Are you crazy? Where is your Miss Sally? "
you want?
"She in yer, hollun en laughin'. Mars John, how you gwine
git out'n dar? »
"Dry up! Good-night! "
"Yer 'tis, Miss Sally," said Uncle Remus, after listening a
moment. "Dey's a mighty zoonin' gwine on in dar, en I dunner
whe'er Mars John tryin' ter scramble out, er whe'er he des tryin'
fer ter make hisse'f comfertuble in dar. "
I have no
"What did he say, Remus? "
"He up en 'low'd dat one un us wuz a vilyun, but dey wuz
such a buzzin' gwine on in dar dat I couldn't 'zactly ketch de
rights un it. "
Uncle Remus went back to his place by the dining-room fire,
and after a while began to mutter and talk to himself.
## p. 6974 (#362) ###########################################
6974
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
"What's the matter now? " his Miss Sally asked.
"I 'uz des a-sayin' dat I know Mars John mus' be suffun
some'rs. "
"Why? "
"Oh, I des knows it; kaze' ef he ain't, w'at make he talk so
weak? He bleedz ter be in trouble. I'm a-tellin' you de Lord's
trufe: dat w'ite man talk like he ain't bigger den one er deze
yer little teenchy chany dolls. I boun' you," he continued, "ef
I 'uz a w'ite 'oman en Mars John wuz my ole man, I'd snatch
up my bonnet en I'd natally sail 'roun' dish yer town twel I fine
out w'at de matter wid 'im. I would dat. "
The old man's Miss Sally laughed until the tears came in her
eyes, and then she said:
"There's a piece of pie on the sideboard. Do get it, and hush
so much talking. "
"Thanky, mistiss, thanky! " exclaimed Uncle Remus, shuffling
across the room. He got the pie and returned to his chair.
"Dish yer pie," he continued, holding it up between his eyes and
the fire, "dish yer pie come in good time, kaze Mars John talk
so weak en fur off it make me feel right empty. I speck he be
well time he git home, en ef he 'uz ter git holt er dish yer pie,
hit mought make 'im have bad dreams. "
In a few moments the pie had disappeared, and when his
Miss Sally looked at him a little later he was fast asleep.
## p. 6975 (#363) ###########################################
6975
FREDERIC HARRISON
(1838-)
REDERIC HARRISON is a man of striking personality, whose
activity has been varied. He is a brilliant essay-writer and
controversialist, whose literary work is full of life and savor.
He is a student and writer of history, especially in its modern and
socialistic aspects. And he is a thinker who, in England, is the most
stalwart champion of the Positivist philosophy of Comte.
He has himself told the story of his education and early life.
Born in London, October 18th, 1838, of good family, with both Eng-
lish and Irish blood in his veins, he went to King's College School,
and then to Oxford, where he was a scholar at Wadham College and
displayed a talent for the classics. His student days fell at the turn
of the half-century (1848-1852); a time when instead of dealing with
abstract themes in true sophomoric fashion, he was,
as he says,
absorbed in current affairs, "impressed with the tumultuous succes-
sion of events that surged across Europe. " He felt the complexity
of modern society and desired to study it. His sympathy for the
popular cause was deep, and grew deeper with the years. On being
graduated, Mr. Harrison taught for some years in the Working-Men's
College, associated with such men as F. D. Maurice and Thomas
Hughes. He also served on the Trades-Union Commission for three
years. These positions brought him into touch with leading econo-
mists and humanitarians. Gradually the idea of teaching the prin-
ciples of Positivism took possession of him; and having private
fortune enough for independence, his chief aim for five-and-twenty
years has been to do this work. This devotion to philosophic expo-
sition leads him to disclaim any other profession. He asserts that he
has never studied literature as an art, nor has he been a great
reader, even in his historical studies, always preferring to talk with
men and see things for the forming of an opinion. This trait and
training give to Harrison's writing an incisive vigor that is marked.
By the time he was thirty-five, Mr. Harrison had come to an
acceptance of the cardinal tenets of Comte: successively he was con-
vinced of the truth of that French philosopher's views on history,
education, society, politics, philosophy, and religion. The English
disciple preaches the brotherhood of man, the Divineness of humanity,
the hope of that altruistic immortality desired by George Eliot, which
## p. 6976 (#364) ###########################################
6976
FREDERIC HARRISON
comes from living in the lives of those made better by our presence.
This modern faith, so sharply opposed to all supernatural religious
conceptions, finds few followers, as he frankly confesses. But he
defends and expounds it in all honesty, and is never more trenchant
and individual than when writing about it. A good example of his
polemical power is the book in which he and Herbert Spencer took
up a lance for their opposing religious views. The controversy
appeared first in the Nineteenth Century in 1884, and the wide atten-
tion it attracted showed that the disputants were regarded as author-
itative exponents of their respective creeds.
Mr. Harrison has translated Comte's 'Social Statics. ' In history
his views are modern and liberal, while his style makes the expres-
sion of exceptional interest. Works in this field are,-"The Meaning
of History' (1862), Oliver Cromwell (1888), 'Annals of an Old
Manor-House' (1893), and 'The Study of History' (1895). Other books
are-Order and Progress' (1875), and The Choice of Books, and Other
Literary Pieces' (1886). The essay on The Choice of Books' has
always been popular, and is distinguished by a fine culture, independ-
ence of judgment, good sense, and happy presentation.
THE USE AND SELECTION OF BOOKS
From The Choice of Books, and Other Literary Pieces >
T IS most right that in the great republic of letters there should
be freedom of intercourse and a spirit of equality. Every
reader who holds a book in his hand is free of the inmost
minds of men past and present; their lives both within and with-
out the pale of their uttered thoughts are unveiled to him; he
needs no introduction to the greatest; he stands on no ceremony
with them; he may, if he be so minded, scribble "doggerel" on
his Shelley, or he may kick Lord Byron, if he please, into a
corner. He hears Burke perorate, and Johnson dogmatize, and
Scott tell his border tales, and Wordsworth muse on the hillside,
without the leave of any man or the payment of any toll. In the
republic of letters there are no privileged orders or places re-
served. Every man who has written a book, even the diligent Mr.
Whitaker, is in one sense an author; "a book's a book although
there's nothing in't;" and every man who can decipher a penny
journal is in one sense a reader. And your "general reader,"
like the grave-digger in Hamlet, is hail-fellow with all the mighty
dead: he pats the skull of the jester, batters the cheek of lord,
## p. 6977 (#365) ###########################################
FREDERIC HARRISON
6977
lady, or courtier, and uses "imperious Cæsar" to teach boys the
Latin declensions.
But this noble equality of all writers-of all writers and of
all readers—has a perilous side to it. It is apt to make us in-
discriminate in the books we read, and somewhat contemptuous
of the mighty men of the past. Men who are most observant as
to the friends they make or the conversation they share, are
carelessness itself as to the books to whom they intrust them-
selves and the printed language with which they saturate their
Yet can any friendship or society be more important to
us than that of the books which form so large a part of our
minds, and even of our characters? Do we in real life take any
pleasant fellow to our homes and chat with some agreeable ras-
cal by our firesides, we who will take up any pleasant fellow's
printed memoirs, we who delight in the agreeable rascal when
he is cut up into pages and bound in calf?
If any person given to reading were honestly to keep a regis-
ter of all the printed stuff that he or she consumes in a year,—
all the idle tales of which the very names and the story are for-
gotten in a week, the bookmaker's prattle about nothing at so
much a sheet, the fugitive trifling about silly things and empty
people, the memoirs of the unmemorable, and lives of those who
never really lived at all,-of what a mountain of rubbish would
it be the catalogue! Exercises for the eye and the memory, as
mechanical as if we set ourselves to learn the names, ages, and
family histories of every one who lives in our street; the flirta-
tions of their maiden aunts; and the circumstances surrounding
the birth of their grandmother's first baby.
It is impossible to give any method to our reading till we get
nerve enough to reject. The most exclusive and careful amongst
us will (in literature) take boon companions out of the street, as
easily as an idler in a tavern. "I came across such-and-such a
book that I never heard mentioned," says one, "and found it
curious, though entirely worthless. "-"I strayed on a volume by
I know not whom, on a subject for which I never cared. " And
so on. There are curious and worthless creatures enough in any
pot-house all day long; and there is incessant talk in omnibus,
train, or street by we know not whom, about we care not what.
Yet if a printer and a bookseller can be induced to make this
gabble as immortal as print and publication can make it, then it
straightway is literature, and in due time it becomes "curious. "
XII-437
―――
## p. 6978 (#366) ###########################################
6978
FREDERIC HARRISON
I have no intention to moralize or to indulge in a homily
against the reading of what is deliberately evil. There is not so
much need for this now, and I am not discoursing on the whole
duty of man. I take that part of our reading which by itself is
no doubt harmless, entertaining, and even gently instructive.
But of this enormous mass of literature how much deserves to
be chosen out, to be preferred to all the great books of the
world, to be set apart for those precious hours which are all that
the most of us can give to solid reading? The vast proportion
of books are books that we shall never be able to read. A seri-
ous percentage of books are not worth reading at all. The really
vital books for us we also know to be a very trifling portion of
the whole. And yet we act as if every book were as good as
any other, as if it were merely a question of order which we
take up first, as if any book were good enough for us, and as if
all were alike honorable, precious, and satisfying. Alas! books
cannot be more than the men who write them; and as a fair pro-
portion of the human race now write books, with motives and
objects as various as human activity, books as books are entitled
à priori, until their value is proved, to the same attention and
respect as houses, steam-engines, pictures, fiddles, bonnets, and
other products of human industry. In the shelves of those
libraries which are our pride, libraries public or private, circu-
lating or very stationary, are to be found those great books of
the world rari nantes in gurgite vasto, those books which are
truly "the precious life-blood of a master spirit. " But the very
familiarity which their mighty fame has bred in us makes us
indifferent; we grow weary of what every one is supposed to have
read; and we take down something which looks a little eccentric,
some worthless book, on the mere ground that we never heard
of it before.
Thus the difficulties of literature are in their way as great as
those of the world; the obstacles to finding the right friends are
as great, the peril is as great of being lost in a Babel of voices.
and an ever-changing mass of beings. Books are not wiser than
men; the true books are not easier to find than the true men;
the bad books or the vulgar books are not less obtrusive and not
less ubiquitous than the bad or vulgar men are everywhere; the
art of right reading is as long and difficult to learn as the art of
right living. Those who are on good terms with the first author
they meet, run as much risk as men who surrender their time to
## p.
ole Brer Wolf en you wuz a young rabbit, I wouldn't git hongry
nuff fer ter eat you, caze you wuz too bony. "
"When did Brother Wolf want to eat the young rabbit, Uncle
Remus? " inquired the little boy, thinking that he saw the sug-
gestion of a story here.
He was not mistaken.
The old man regarded him with well-
feigned astonishment.
"Ain't I done tole you 'bout dat, honey? Des run over in yo'
min', en see ef I ain't. "
The youngster shook his head most emphatically.
"Well," said Uncle Remus, "ole Brer Wolf want ter eat de
little Rabs all de time, but dey wuz one time in 'tickeler dat dey
make his mouf water, en dat wuz de time when him en Brer
Fox wuz visitin' at Brer Rabbit's house. De times wuz hard,
but de little Rabs wuz slick en fat, en des ez frisky ez kittens.
Ole Brer Rabbit wuz off som'ers, en Brer Wolf en Brer Fox wuz
waitin' fer 'im. De little Rabs wuz playin' 'roun', en dough dey
wuz little dey kep' der years open.
Brer Wolf look at um out'n
## p. 6965 (#353) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6965
de cornder uv his eyes, en lick his chops en wink at Brer Fox,
en Brer Fox wunk back at 'im. Brer Wolf cross his legs, en den
Brer Fox cross his'n. De little Rabs, dey frisk en dey frolic.
"Brer Wolf ho'd his head to'rds um en 'low, 'Dey er mighty
fat. '
"Brer Fox grin, en say, 'Man, hush yo' mouf! '
"De little Rabs frisk en frolic, en play furder off, but dey
keep der years primed.
"Brer Wolf look at um en 'low, 'Ain't dey slick en purty? '
"Brer Fox chuckle, en say, 'Oh, I wish you'd hush! '
"De little Rabs play off furder en furder, but dey keep der
years open.
"Brer Wolf smack his mouf, en 'low, 'Dey er joosy en tender. '
"Brer Fox roll his eye en say, 'Man, ain't you gwine ter
hush up, 'fo' you gi' me de fidgets? '
"De little Rabs dey frisk en dey frolic, but dey hear eve'y-
thing dat pass.
"Brer Wolf lick out his tongue quick, en 'low, 'Less us whirl
in en eat um. '
"Brer Fox say, 'Man, you make me hongry! Please hush up! '
"De little Rabs play off furder en furder, but dey know
'zackly what gwine on. Dey frisk en dey frolic, but dey got der
years wide open.
"Den Brer Wolf make a bargain wid Brer Fox dat when
Brer Rabbit git home, one un um ud git 'im wropped up in a
'spute 'bout fust one thing en den anudder, whiles tudder one ud
go out en ketch de little Rabs.
"Brer Fox 'low, 'You better do de talkin', Brer Wolf, en
lemme coax de little Rabs off. I got mo' winnin' ways wid chil-
luns dan what you is. '
"Brer Wolf say, 'You can't make gourd out'n punkin, Brer
Fox. I ain't no talker. Yo' tongue lots slicker dan mine. I kin
bite lots better'n I kin talk. Dem little Rabs don't want no
coaxin'; dey wants ketchin'-dat what dey wants. You keep ole
Brer Rabbit busy, en I'll ten' ter de little Rabs. '
"Bofe un um know'd dat whichever cotch de little Rabs, de
tudder one ain't gwine smell hide ner hair un um, en dey flew
up en got ter 'sputin, en whiles dey was 'sputin' en gwine on
dat-a-way, de little Rabs put off down de road, blickety-blickety,
for ter meet der daddy. Kase dey know'd ef dey stayed dar
dey'd git in big trouble.
## p. 6966 (#354) ###########################################
6966
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
"Dey went off down de road, de little Rabs did, en dey ain't
gone so mighty fur 'fo' dey meet der daddy comin' 'long home.
He had his walkin' cane in one han' en a jug in de udder, en he
look ez big ez life en twice ez natchul.
"De little Rabs run to'rds 'im en holler, 'What you got,
daddy? What you got, daddy? '
"Brer Rabbit say, 'Nothin' but er jug er 'lasses. '
"De little Rabs holler, 'Lemme tas'e, daddy! Lemme tas'e,
daddy! '
"Den ole Brer Rabbit sot de jug down in de road en let um
lick de stopper a time er two, en atter dey done get der win'
back, dey up'n tell 'im 'bout de 'greement dat Brer Wolf en Brer
Fox done make, en 'bout de 'spute what dey had. Ole Brer
Rabbit sorter laugh ter hisse'f, en den he pick up his jug en jog
on to'rds home. When he git mos' dar he stop en tell de little
Rabs fer stay back dar out er sight, en wait twel he call um 'fo'
dey come. Dey wuz mighty glad ter do des like dis, kaze dey'd
done seed Brer Wolf tushes, en Brer Fox red tongue, en dey
huddle up in de broom-sage ez still ez a mouse in de flour-bar'l.
"Brer Rabbit went on home, en sho 'nuff, he fin' Brer Wolf
en Brer Fox waitin' fer 'im. Dey 'd done settle der 'spute, en
dey wuz settin' dar des ez smilin' ez a basket er chips. Dey
pass de time er day wid Brer Rabbit, en den dey ax 'im what
he got in de jug. Brer Rabbit hummed en haw'd, en looked
sorter sollum.
"Brer Wolf look like he wuz bleedz ter fin' out what wuz in
de jug, en he keep a pesterin' Brer Rabbit 'bout it; but Brer
Rabbit des shake his head en look sollum, en talk 'bout de wed-
der, en de craps, en one thing en anudder. Bimeby Brer Fox
make out he wuz gwine atter a drink er water, en he slip out,
he did, fer ter ketch de little Rabs. Time he git out de house,
Brer Rabbit look all 'roun' ter see ef he lis'nen, en den he went
ter de jug en pull out de stopper.
"He han' it ter Brer Wolf en say, 'Tas'e dat. '
'lasses, en smack his mouf.
Hit sho is good. ’
"Brer Rabbit git up close ter Brer Wolf en say, 'Don't tell
nobody. Hit's Fox-blood. '
"Brer Wolf tas'e de
'What kinder truck dat?
"Brer Wolf look 'stonish'. He 'low, 'How you know? '
"Brer Rabbit say, 'I knows what I knows! '
"Brer Wolf say, 'Gimme some mo'! '
He 'low,
## p. 6967 (#355) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6967
"Brer Rabbit say, 'You kin git some mo' fer yo'se'f easy
'nuff; en de fresher 'tis, de better. '
"Brer Wolf 'low, 'How you know? '
"Brer Rabbit say, 'I knows what I knows! '
"Wid dat Brer Wolf stepped out, en start to'rds Brer Fox.
Brer Fox seed 'im comin', en he sorter back off. Brer Wolf got
little closer, en bimeby he make a dash at Brer Fox. Brer Fox
dodge, he did, en den he put out fer de woods wid Brer Wolf
right at his heels.
"Den atter so long a time, atter Brer Rabbit got done
laughin', he call up de little Rabs, gi' um some 'lasses fer sup-
per, en spanked um en sont um ter bed. "
"Well, what did he spank 'em for, Uncle Remus? " asked the
little boy.
"Ter make um grow, honey,—des ter make um grow! Young
creeturs is got ter have der hide loosen'd dat-a-way, same ez
young chilluns. "
"Did Brother Wolf catch Brother Fox? "
"How I know, honey? Much ez I kin do ter foller de tale
when it keeps in de big road, let 'lone ter keep up wid dem
creeturs whiles dey gone sailin' thoo de woods. De tale ain't
persoo on atter um no furder dan de place whar dey make der
disappear'nce. I tell you now, when I goes in de woods, I got
ter know whar I'm gwine. "
BROTHER MUD TURTLE'S TRICKERY
From Uncle Remus and his Friends. Copyright 1892 by Joel Chandler Har-
ris, and reprinted here by permission of and special arrangement with
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , publishers, Boston.
DON'T like deze yer tales 'bout folks, no how you kin fix um,"
said Uncle Remus after an unusually long pause, during
which he rubbed his left hand with the right, in order to
run the rheumatism out. "No, suh, I don't like um, kaze folks
can't play no tricks, ner git even wid der neighbors, widout
hurtin' somebody's feelin's, er breakin' some law er 'nudder, er
gwine 'ginst what de preacher say.
"Look at dat man what I des been tellin' you 'bout. He let
de udder man fool 'im en ketch 'im, en mo' dan dat, he let um
tote 'im off de calaboose. He oughter been tuck dar; I ain't
་་
"I
## p. 6968 (#356) ###########################################
6968
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
'sputin' dat; yit ef dat had been some er de creeturs, dey'd er
sholy got loose fum dar.
-
"When it comes ter talkin' 'bout gittin' loose," Uncle Remus
continued, settling himself comfortably in his chair, "I git ter
runnin' on in my min' 'bout ole Brer Fox en ole Brer Mud
Turkle. Dey had some kinder fallin' out once 'pon a time - I
dunner what. I speck hit's got a tale hung on it, but de tale
done switch itself out'n my min'. Yit dey'd done had a fallin'
out, en dey wa'nt no love los' betwixt um. Well, suh, one day
Brer Fox wuz gwine down de creek fishin'. Little ez you may
think un it, Brer Fox wuz monst'us fon' er fishes, so eve'y chance
he got he'd go fishin'. "
"On Sunday, too? " inquired the little boy. He had been
lectured on that subject not long before.
"Well, I tell you now," replied Uncle Remus laughing, "Brer
Fox is like 'oman's tongue; he ain't got no Sunday. "
"What kind of bait did he have? " the youngster asked.
"What he want wid bait, honey? He ain't got no bait, en no
pole, en no hook. He des went down de creek, en when he
come ter a good place, he'd wade in en feel und' de rocks en
und' de bank. Sometimes he'd ketch a horny-head, en den ag'in
he'd ketch a peerch. Well, suh, he went on en went on, en he
had bad luck. Look like de fishes wuz all gone fum home, but
he kep' on en kep' on. He 'low ter hisse'f dat he bleedz ter
have some fish fer dinner. One time he put his han' in a craw-
fish nes' en got nipt, en anudder time he tetched a eel, en it
made de col' chills run 'cross 'im. Yit he kep' on.
"Bimeby Brer Fox come ter whar ole Brer Mud Turkle live
at. I dunner what make ole Brer Mud Turkle live in such a
damp place like dat. Look like him en his folks 'ud have a bad
col' de whole blessid time. But dar he wuz in de water und' de
bank, layin' dar fas' asleep, dreamin' 'bout de good times he'd
have when de freshet come. He 'uz layin' dar wid his eyes shot,
when de fus' news he know he feel sump'n 'nudder fumblin'
'roun' his head. 'Twan't nobody but ole Brer Fox feelin' 'roun'
und' de bank fer fishes.
"Brer Mud Turkle move his head, he did, but de fumblin'
kep' on, en bimeby he open his mouf en Brer Fox fumble en
fumble, twel bimeby he got 'is han' in dar, en time he do dat,
ole Brer Mud Turkle shet down on it. En I let you know,"
continued Uncle Remus, shaking his head slowly from side to
## p. 6969 (#357) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6969
side as if to add emphasis to the statement, "I let you know
when ole Brer Mud Turkle shet down on yo' han', you got
ter cut off his head en den wait twel it thunder, 'fo' he turn
loose.
"Well, suh, he shet down on ole Brer Fox, en ef you'd 'a'
been anywhars in dat settlement you'd 'a' heard squallin' den ef
you ain't never hear none befo'.
"Brer Fox des hilt his head back en holler 'Ouch! Ouch!
What dis got me? Ouch! Turn me aloose! Ouch! Somebody
better run here quick! Laws a massy! Ouch! '
"But Brer Mud Turkle he helt on, en he feel so much com-
fort dat he'd er in about went ter asleep ag'in ef Brer Fox
hadn't er snatched en jerked so hard en a-holler'd so loud.
"Brer Fox holler, en Brer Mud Turkle hol' on; Brer Fox
holler, en Brer Mud Turkle hol' on. Dar dey wuz, nip en tug,
holler en hol' fas'! Bimeby it hurt so bad dat Brer Fox des
fetched one loud squall en made one big pull, en out come ole
Brer Mud Turkle, a-hangin' ter his han'.
"Well, suh, when dey got out on de bank en Brer Mud Tur-
kle sorter woke up, he tuck'n turn Brer Fox loose widout waitin'
fer de thunder. He ax. Brer Fox pardon, but Brer Fox he ain't
got no pardon fer ter gi' 'im.
"Brer Mud Turkle make like he skeer'd. He 'low: 'I 'clar'
ter gracious, Brer Fox! ef I'd a know'd 'twuz you, I'd 'a' never
shet down on you in de roun' worl'; kaze I know what a danger-
some man you is. I know'd yo' daddy befo' you, en he wuz a
dangersome man. '
He say:
I got you
"But Brer Fox 'fuse ter lissen ter dat kinder talk.
'I been wantin' you a long time, en now I got you.
right where I want you, en when I get thoo wid you, yo' own
folks wouldn't know you ef dey wuz ter meet you in de middle
er de road. '
"Brer Mud Turkle cry on one side his face en laugh on
tudder. He 'low, 'Please, suh, Brer Fox, des let me off dis
time, en I'll be good friend 'long wid you all de balance er de
time. Please, suh, Brer Fox, let me off dis time! '
"Brer Fox say, 'Oh, yes! I'll let you off; I'm all de time
a-lettin' off folks what bite me ter de bone! Oh yes! I'll let you
off, but I'll take en skin you fust. '
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, 'Spozen I ain't got no hide on me;
den what you gwine to do? '
## p. 6970 (#358) ###########################################
6970
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
**
;
"Brer Fox grit his tushes. He say, 'Ef you ain't got no
hide, I'll fin' de place whar de hide oughter be-dat's what! '
"Wid dat he make a grab at Brer Mud Turkle's neck, but
Brer Mud Turkle draw his head en his foots und' his shell, en
quile up his tail, en dar he wuz. He so ole en tough he got
moss on his shell. Brer Fox fool wid 'im, en gnyaw en gouge
at de shell, but he des might ez well gnyaw en gouge at a flint
rock. He work en he work, but 'tain't do no good; he can't
git Brer Mud Turkle out er his house no way he kin fix it.
"Ole Brer Mud Turkle talk at 'im. He 'low, 'Hard ain't no
name fer it, Brer Fox! You'll be jimber-jaw'd long 'fo' you
gnyaw thoo my hide! '
"Brer Fox gnyaw en gouge, en gouge en gnyaw.
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, 'Dey ain't but one way fer ter git
dat shell off, Brer Fox! '
"Brer Fox 'fuse ter make answer. He gouge en gnyaw, en
gnyaw en gouge.
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, 'Tushes ain't gwine git it off! Claws
ain't gwine git it off! Yit mud en water will do de work. Now
I'm gwine ter sleep. '
"Brer Fox gnyaw en gouge, en gouge en gnyaw, en bimeby
he git tired, mo' speshually when he hear ole Brer Mud Turkle
layin' in dar snorin' des like somebody sawin' gourds. Den he
sot down en watch Brer Mud Turkle, but he ain't move. He do
des like he sleep.
"Den Brer Fox git de idee dat he'll play a trick on Brer
Mud Turkle. He holler out, 'Good-by, Brer Mud Turkle! You
er too much fer me dis time. My han' hurt me so bad I got
ter go home en git a poultice on it. But I'll pay you back ef
hit's de las' ac'! '
"Brer Fox make like he gwine off, but he des run 'roun' en
hid in de bushes. Yit does you speck he gwine fool Brer Mud
Turkle? Shoo, honey! Dat creetur got moss on his back, en he
got so much sense in his head his eyes look red. He des lay
dar, ole Brer Mud Turkle did, en sun hisse'f same as ef he wuz
on a rock in de creek. He lay dar so still dat Brer Fox got his
impatients stirred up, en he come out de bushes en went ter
Brer Mud Turkle en shuck 'im up en ax'd 'im how he gwine git
de shell off.
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, Tushes ain't gwine git it off! Claws
ain't gwine git it off! Yit mud en water will do de work! '
## p. 6971 (#359) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6971
"Brer Fox say, 'Don't riddle me no riddles.
like a man how I gwine ter git yo' shell off! '
"Brer Mud Turkle 'low, 'Put me in de mud en rub my back
hard ez you kin. Den de shell bleedz ter come off. Dat de
reason dey calls me Brer Mud Turkle.
'
"Well, suh," said Uncle Remus, laughing heartily, "Brer Fox
ain't got no better sense dan ter b'lieve all dat truck, so he tuck
en shove Brer Mud Turkle 'long twel he got 'im in de mud, en
den he 'gun ter rub on his back like somebody curryin' a hoss.
What happen den? Well, dey ain't nothin' 't all happen, 'ceppin'
what bleedz ter happen. De mo' he rub on de back, de deeper
Brer Mud Turkle go in de mud. Bimeby, whiles Brer Fox wuz
rubbin' right hard, Brer Mud Turkle sorter gun hisse'f a flirt en
went down out er reach. Co'se dis make Brer Fox splunge in
de water, en a little mo' en he'd a drown'ded right den en dar.
He went out on de bank, he did, en whiles he settin' dar dryin'
hisse'f he know'd dat Brer Mud Turkle wuz laughin' at 'im, kaze
he kin see de signs un it. "
The little boy laughed, but he shook his head incredulously.
"Well," said Uncle Remus, "ef you gwine ter 'spute dat, you
des ez well ter stan' up en face me down 'bout de whole tale.
Kaze when Brer Fox see bubbles risin' on de water en follerin'
atter one anudder, he bleedz ter know dat Brer Mud Turkle
down under dar laughin' fit ter kill hisse'f. "
This settled the matter. The child was convinced.
Up en tell me
UNCLE REMUS AT THE TELEPHONE
From 'Uncle Remus and his Friends. Copyright 1892 by Joel Chandler Har-
ris, and reprinted here by permission of and special arrangement with
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , publishers, Boston.
Ο
NE night recently, as Uncle Remus's Miss Sally was sitting
by the fire sewing and singing softly to herself, she heard
the old man come into the back yard and enter the dining-
room, where a bright fire was still burning in the grate. Every-
thing had been cleared away. The cook had gone, and the
house-girl had disappeared, and the little boy was asleep. Uncle
Remus had many privileges in the house of the daughter of his
old mistress and master, and one of these was to warm himself
by the dining-room fire whenever he felt lonely, especially at
## p. 6972 (#360) ###########################################
6972
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
night. To the lady there was a whimsical suggestion of pathos
in everything the old negro said and did; and yet her attitude
toward Uncle Remus was one of bustling criticism and deprecia-
tion. By leaning back in her chair a little, she could see him as
he sat before the fire enjoying the warmth.
"I should think it was time for you to be in bed," she ex-
claimed.
"No'm, 'tain't," responded Uncle Remus. "I year tell dat
w'en ole folks git ter bed soon, dey feelin's bin hurted; en good-
ness knows dey ain't nobody hurted my feelin's dis day. "
"Well, there isn't anything in there that you can pick up.
I've had everything put under lock and key. "
"Yessum, dey is sump'n n'er in yer, too, kaze yer Mars John
supper settin' right down yer 'fo' de fier, en little mo' hit 'ud a
bin dry spang up, if I hadn't 'a' drapt in des w'en I did. I year
Mars John tell dat ar nigger 'oman w'at you call yo' cook fer ter
have 'im some fried aigs fer supper, en ef deze ain't fried en
dried I ain't never see none w'at is. W'en Mars John come, you
kin set plum' in dar en year 'im crack um up in his mouf, same
lak cow chawin' fodder. Las' Sat'd'y night Mars John fotch
some fried isters home, en ef dish yer nigger 'oman stay on dis
hill many mo' days, he ull git all his vittles cooked down town
en fetch it home in a baskit. Whar Mars John now? "
Just then there was a call at the telephone.
The little gong
rattled away like a house on fire. As the lady went to answer
it, Uncle Remus rose from his chair and crept on his tiptoes to
the door that opened into the sitting-room. He heard his Miss
Sally talking:
"Well, what's wanted? Oh-is that you? Well, I could-
n't imagine . No. Fast asleep too long ago to talk
about . . Why of course! No! . . . Why should I be fright-
ened! . I declare! you ought to be ashamed . . . Remus
is here
Two hours! I think you are horrid mean! . . .
By-by! "
Uncle Remus stood looking suspiciously at the telephone after
his Miss Sally had turned away.
·
"Miss Sally," he said presently, "wuz you talkin' ter Mars
John ? »
"Certainly. Who did you suppose it was? "
"Wharbouts wuz Mars John? "
"At his office. "
## p. 6973 (#361) ###########################################
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
6973
"Way down yan on Yallerbamer street? "
"Yes. "
At this piece of information Uncle Remus emitted a groan
that was full of doubt and pity, and went into the dining-room.
His Miss Sally laughed, and then an idea seemed to strike her.
She called him back, and went again to the telephone.
"Is that you, Central? . . . Please connect eleven-forty with
fourteen-sixty. " There was a fluttering sound in the instrument,
and then the lady said: "Yes, it's me! . . . Here's Remus.
Yes, but he wants to talk to you. "
Here, sim-
"Here, Remus, take this and put it to your ear.
pleton! it won't hurt you. "
Uncle Remus took the ear-piece and handled it as though it
had been a loaded pistol. He tried to look in at both ends, and
then he placed it to his ear and grinned sheepishly. He heard
a thin, sepulchral, but familiar voice calling out, "Hello, Re-
mus! " and his sheepish grin gave place to an expression of
uneasy astonishment.
"Hello, Remus! Hello-ello-ello-ello-o-o! "
"Is dat you, Mars John? "
"Of course it is, you bandy-legged old villain.
time to be standing here. What do you want? "
"How in de name er God you git in dar, Mars John? "
"In where? "
>>
>>
"In dish yer-in dish yer appleratus.
"Oh, you be fiddlestick! What do
"Mars John, kin you see meer is she all dark in dar? »
"Are you crazy? Where is your Miss Sally? "
you want?
"She in yer, hollun en laughin'. Mars John, how you gwine
git out'n dar? »
"Dry up! Good-night! "
"Yer 'tis, Miss Sally," said Uncle Remus, after listening a
moment. "Dey's a mighty zoonin' gwine on in dar, en I dunner
whe'er Mars John tryin' ter scramble out, er whe'er he des tryin'
fer ter make hisse'f comfertuble in dar. "
I have no
"What did he say, Remus? "
"He up en 'low'd dat one un us wuz a vilyun, but dey wuz
such a buzzin' gwine on in dar dat I couldn't 'zactly ketch de
rights un it. "
Uncle Remus went back to his place by the dining-room fire,
and after a while began to mutter and talk to himself.
## p. 6974 (#362) ###########################################
6974
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
"What's the matter now? " his Miss Sally asked.
"I 'uz des a-sayin' dat I know Mars John mus' be suffun
some'rs. "
"Why? "
"Oh, I des knows it; kaze' ef he ain't, w'at make he talk so
weak? He bleedz ter be in trouble. I'm a-tellin' you de Lord's
trufe: dat w'ite man talk like he ain't bigger den one er deze
yer little teenchy chany dolls. I boun' you," he continued, "ef
I 'uz a w'ite 'oman en Mars John wuz my ole man, I'd snatch
up my bonnet en I'd natally sail 'roun' dish yer town twel I fine
out w'at de matter wid 'im. I would dat. "
The old man's Miss Sally laughed until the tears came in her
eyes, and then she said:
"There's a piece of pie on the sideboard. Do get it, and hush
so much talking. "
"Thanky, mistiss, thanky! " exclaimed Uncle Remus, shuffling
across the room. He got the pie and returned to his chair.
"Dish yer pie," he continued, holding it up between his eyes and
the fire, "dish yer pie come in good time, kaze Mars John talk
so weak en fur off it make me feel right empty. I speck he be
well time he git home, en ef he 'uz ter git holt er dish yer pie,
hit mought make 'im have bad dreams. "
In a few moments the pie had disappeared, and when his
Miss Sally looked at him a little later he was fast asleep.
## p. 6975 (#363) ###########################################
6975
FREDERIC HARRISON
(1838-)
REDERIC HARRISON is a man of striking personality, whose
activity has been varied. He is a brilliant essay-writer and
controversialist, whose literary work is full of life and savor.
He is a student and writer of history, especially in its modern and
socialistic aspects. And he is a thinker who, in England, is the most
stalwart champion of the Positivist philosophy of Comte.
He has himself told the story of his education and early life.
Born in London, October 18th, 1838, of good family, with both Eng-
lish and Irish blood in his veins, he went to King's College School,
and then to Oxford, where he was a scholar at Wadham College and
displayed a talent for the classics. His student days fell at the turn
of the half-century (1848-1852); a time when instead of dealing with
abstract themes in true sophomoric fashion, he was,
as he says,
absorbed in current affairs, "impressed with the tumultuous succes-
sion of events that surged across Europe. " He felt the complexity
of modern society and desired to study it. His sympathy for the
popular cause was deep, and grew deeper with the years. On being
graduated, Mr. Harrison taught for some years in the Working-Men's
College, associated with such men as F. D. Maurice and Thomas
Hughes. He also served on the Trades-Union Commission for three
years. These positions brought him into touch with leading econo-
mists and humanitarians. Gradually the idea of teaching the prin-
ciples of Positivism took possession of him; and having private
fortune enough for independence, his chief aim for five-and-twenty
years has been to do this work. This devotion to philosophic expo-
sition leads him to disclaim any other profession. He asserts that he
has never studied literature as an art, nor has he been a great
reader, even in his historical studies, always preferring to talk with
men and see things for the forming of an opinion. This trait and
training give to Harrison's writing an incisive vigor that is marked.
By the time he was thirty-five, Mr. Harrison had come to an
acceptance of the cardinal tenets of Comte: successively he was con-
vinced of the truth of that French philosopher's views on history,
education, society, politics, philosophy, and religion. The English
disciple preaches the brotherhood of man, the Divineness of humanity,
the hope of that altruistic immortality desired by George Eliot, which
## p. 6976 (#364) ###########################################
6976
FREDERIC HARRISON
comes from living in the lives of those made better by our presence.
This modern faith, so sharply opposed to all supernatural religious
conceptions, finds few followers, as he frankly confesses. But he
defends and expounds it in all honesty, and is never more trenchant
and individual than when writing about it. A good example of his
polemical power is the book in which he and Herbert Spencer took
up a lance for their opposing religious views. The controversy
appeared first in the Nineteenth Century in 1884, and the wide atten-
tion it attracted showed that the disputants were regarded as author-
itative exponents of their respective creeds.
Mr. Harrison has translated Comte's 'Social Statics. ' In history
his views are modern and liberal, while his style makes the expres-
sion of exceptional interest. Works in this field are,-"The Meaning
of History' (1862), Oliver Cromwell (1888), 'Annals of an Old
Manor-House' (1893), and 'The Study of History' (1895). Other books
are-Order and Progress' (1875), and The Choice of Books, and Other
Literary Pieces' (1886). The essay on The Choice of Books' has
always been popular, and is distinguished by a fine culture, independ-
ence of judgment, good sense, and happy presentation.
THE USE AND SELECTION OF BOOKS
From The Choice of Books, and Other Literary Pieces >
T IS most right that in the great republic of letters there should
be freedom of intercourse and a spirit of equality. Every
reader who holds a book in his hand is free of the inmost
minds of men past and present; their lives both within and with-
out the pale of their uttered thoughts are unveiled to him; he
needs no introduction to the greatest; he stands on no ceremony
with them; he may, if he be so minded, scribble "doggerel" on
his Shelley, or he may kick Lord Byron, if he please, into a
corner. He hears Burke perorate, and Johnson dogmatize, and
Scott tell his border tales, and Wordsworth muse on the hillside,
without the leave of any man or the payment of any toll. In the
republic of letters there are no privileged orders or places re-
served. Every man who has written a book, even the diligent Mr.
Whitaker, is in one sense an author; "a book's a book although
there's nothing in't;" and every man who can decipher a penny
journal is in one sense a reader. And your "general reader,"
like the grave-digger in Hamlet, is hail-fellow with all the mighty
dead: he pats the skull of the jester, batters the cheek of lord,
## p. 6977 (#365) ###########################################
FREDERIC HARRISON
6977
lady, or courtier, and uses "imperious Cæsar" to teach boys the
Latin declensions.
But this noble equality of all writers-of all writers and of
all readers—has a perilous side to it. It is apt to make us in-
discriminate in the books we read, and somewhat contemptuous
of the mighty men of the past. Men who are most observant as
to the friends they make or the conversation they share, are
carelessness itself as to the books to whom they intrust them-
selves and the printed language with which they saturate their
Yet can any friendship or society be more important to
us than that of the books which form so large a part of our
minds, and even of our characters? Do we in real life take any
pleasant fellow to our homes and chat with some agreeable ras-
cal by our firesides, we who will take up any pleasant fellow's
printed memoirs, we who delight in the agreeable rascal when
he is cut up into pages and bound in calf?
If any person given to reading were honestly to keep a regis-
ter of all the printed stuff that he or she consumes in a year,—
all the idle tales of which the very names and the story are for-
gotten in a week, the bookmaker's prattle about nothing at so
much a sheet, the fugitive trifling about silly things and empty
people, the memoirs of the unmemorable, and lives of those who
never really lived at all,-of what a mountain of rubbish would
it be the catalogue! Exercises for the eye and the memory, as
mechanical as if we set ourselves to learn the names, ages, and
family histories of every one who lives in our street; the flirta-
tions of their maiden aunts; and the circumstances surrounding
the birth of their grandmother's first baby.
It is impossible to give any method to our reading till we get
nerve enough to reject. The most exclusive and careful amongst
us will (in literature) take boon companions out of the street, as
easily as an idler in a tavern. "I came across such-and-such a
book that I never heard mentioned," says one, "and found it
curious, though entirely worthless. "-"I strayed on a volume by
I know not whom, on a subject for which I never cared. " And
so on. There are curious and worthless creatures enough in any
pot-house all day long; and there is incessant talk in omnibus,
train, or street by we know not whom, about we care not what.
Yet if a printer and a bookseller can be induced to make this
gabble as immortal as print and publication can make it, then it
straightway is literature, and in due time it becomes "curious. "
XII-437
―――
## p. 6978 (#366) ###########################################
6978
FREDERIC HARRISON
I have no intention to moralize or to indulge in a homily
against the reading of what is deliberately evil. There is not so
much need for this now, and I am not discoursing on the whole
duty of man. I take that part of our reading which by itself is
no doubt harmless, entertaining, and even gently instructive.
But of this enormous mass of literature how much deserves to
be chosen out, to be preferred to all the great books of the
world, to be set apart for those precious hours which are all that
the most of us can give to solid reading? The vast proportion
of books are books that we shall never be able to read. A seri-
ous percentage of books are not worth reading at all. The really
vital books for us we also know to be a very trifling portion of
the whole. And yet we act as if every book were as good as
any other, as if it were merely a question of order which we
take up first, as if any book were good enough for us, and as if
all were alike honorable, precious, and satisfying. Alas! books
cannot be more than the men who write them; and as a fair pro-
portion of the human race now write books, with motives and
objects as various as human activity, books as books are entitled
à priori, until their value is proved, to the same attention and
respect as houses, steam-engines, pictures, fiddles, bonnets, and
other products of human industry. In the shelves of those
libraries which are our pride, libraries public or private, circu-
lating or very stationary, are to be found those great books of
the world rari nantes in gurgite vasto, those books which are
truly "the precious life-blood of a master spirit. " But the very
familiarity which their mighty fame has bred in us makes us
indifferent; we grow weary of what every one is supposed to have
read; and we take down something which looks a little eccentric,
some worthless book, on the mere ground that we never heard
of it before.
Thus the difficulties of literature are in their way as great as
those of the world; the obstacles to finding the right friends are
as great, the peril is as great of being lost in a Babel of voices.
and an ever-changing mass of beings. Books are not wiser than
men; the true books are not easier to find than the true men;
the bad books or the vulgar books are not less obtrusive and not
less ubiquitous than the bad or vulgar men are everywhere; the
art of right reading is as long and difficult to learn as the art of
right living. Those who are on good terms with the first author
they meet, run as much risk as men who surrender their time to
## p.
