Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings Part 29

"Well, I tell you, Brer John Henry, de col' wuz so col', an' de kiver wuz so light, dat I thunk I'd make a raid on Mars John's s.h.i.+ngle pile, an' out I goes an totes in a whole armful. Den I gits under de kiver an' tells my ole 'oman fer ter lay 'em onto me like she was roofin' a house. Bimeby she crawls in, an' de s.h.i.+ngles w'at she put on her side fer ter kiver wid, dey all drap off on de flo'. Den up I gits an' piles 'em on agin, an' w'en I gits in bed my s.h.i.+ngles draps off, an' dat's de way it wuz de whole blessid night. Fus' it wuz me up an' den de ole 'oman, an'

it kep' us pow'ful warm, too, dat kinder exercise. Oh, you oughter drapt roun' 'bout dat time, Brer John Henry. You'd a year'd sho' nuff cussin'!"

"You don't tell me, Brer Remus!"

"My ole 'oman say de Ole Boy wouldn't a foun' a riper n.i.g.g.e.r, ef he wer' ter scour de country fum Ferginny ter de Alabam'"

XXI. THE FOURTH OF JULY

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 ba.s.s-drum. The old man evidently expected an attack all around, for he was unusually quiet, and fumbled in his pockets in an embarra.s.sed 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 cla.s.s 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 embarra.s.sment 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 n.i.g.g.e.rs?" asked Uncle Remus.

"'Kaze ef you iz, den you knows wharbouts de devilment come in.

Show me a Mobile n.i.g.g.e.r," continued the old man, an I'll show you a n.i.g.g.e.r 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 n.i.g.g.e.r 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 n.i.g.g.e.r 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 n.i.g.g.e.r 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 n.i.g.g.e.r 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' n.i.g.g.e.rs, wid a bee-gum hat an'

a bra.s.s 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' n.i.g.g.e.r, 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 n.i.g.g.e.r's eyeb.a.l.l.s 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 n.i.g.g.e.r 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 n.i.g.g.e.r 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 p.r.o.ned inter me."