Nights with Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris

Author:Joel Chandler Harris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US

XXXI

“In Some Lady’s Garden”

When the little boy next visited Uncle Remus the old man was engaged in the somewhat tedious operation of making shoe-pegs. Daddy Jack was assorting a bundle of sassafras roots, and Aunt Tempy was transforming a meal-sack into shirts for some of the little negroes—a piece of economy of her own devising. Uncle Remus pretended not to see the child.

“Hit’s des lak I tell you all,” he remarked, as if renewing a conversation; ‘I monst’us glad dey aint no bad chilluns on dis place fer ter be wadin’ in de spring-branch, en flingin’ mud on de yuther little chilluns, w’ich de goodness knows dey er nasty ’nuff bidout dat. I monst’us glad dey aint none er dat kinder young uns ’roun’ yer—I is dat.”

“Now, Uncle Remus,” exclaimed the little boy, in an injured tone, “somebody’s been telling you something on me.”

The old man appeared to be very much astonished.

“Heyo! what you bin hidin’, honey? Yer ’tis mos’ way atter supper en you aint in de bed yit. Well—well—well! Sit over ag’in de chimbly jam dar whar you kin dry dem shoes. En de ve’y nex’ time w’at I see you wadin’ in dat branch, wid de sickly season comin’ on, I’m a gwine ter take you ’cross my shoulder en kyar you ter Miss Sally, en ef dat aint do no good, den I’ll kyar you ter Mars. John, en ef dat aint do no good, den I’m done wid you, so dar now!”

The little boy sat silent a long time, listening to the casual talk of Uncle Remus and his guests, and watching the vapor rise from his wet shoes. Presently there was a pause in the talk, and the child said:

“Uncle Remus, have I been too bad to hear a story?”

The old man straightened himself up and pushed his spectacles back on his forehead.

“Now, den, folks, you year w’at he say. Shill we pursue on atter de creeturs? Shill er shant?”

“Bless yo’ soul, Brer Remus, I mos’ ’shame’ myse’f, yit I tell you de Lord’s trufe, I’m des ez bad atter dem ar tales ez dat chile dar.”

“Well, den,” said Uncle Remus, “a tale hit is. One time dey wuz a man, en dish yer man he had a gyardin. He had a gyardin, en he had a little gal fer ter min’ it. I don’t speck dish yer gyardin wuz wide lak Miss Sally gyadin, but hit ’uz lots longer. Hit ’uz so long dat it run down side er de big road, ’cross by de plum thicket, en back up de lane. Dish yer gyardin wuz so nice en long dat it tuck’n ’track de ’tention er Brer Rabbit; but de fence wuz built so close en so high, dat he can’t git in nohow he kin fix it.”

“Oh, I know about that!” exclaimed the little boy. “The man catches Brother Rabbit and ties him, and the girl lets him loose to see him dance.”

Uncle Remus dropped his chin upon his bosom. He seemed to be humbled.

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