Front Matter Uncle Remus Initiates the Boy The Wonderful Tar-Baby Story Why Mr. Possum Loves Peace Mr. Rabbit too Sharp for Mr. Fox The Story of the Deluge Mr. Rabbit Deceives Mr. Fox Mr. Fox is Again Victimized Mr. Fox Outdone by Mr. Buzzard Miss Cow Falls a Victim Mr. Terrapin Appears on Scene Mr. Wolf Makes a Failure Mr. Fox Tackles Old Man Tarrypin The Awful Fate of Mr. Wolf Mr. Fox and the Deceitful Frogs Mr. Fox Goes A-Hunting Mr. Rabbit—a Good Fisherman Mr. Rabbit Nibbles Up the Butter Mr. Rabbit Finds His Match The Fate of Mr. Jack Sparrow How Mr. Rabbit Saved His Meat Mr. Rabbit Meets Match Again Story about the Little Rabbits Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Bear Mr. Bear Catches Mr. Bull-Frog How Mr. Rabbit Lost His Tail Mr. Terrapin Shows His Strength Why Mr. Possum Has No Hair The End of Mr. Bear Mr. Fox Gets into Serious Business Mr. Rabbit Raises a Dust A Plantation Witch Jacky-My-Lantern Why the Negro is Black The Sad Fate of Mr. Fox Plantation Proverbs Revival Hymn Camp-Meeting Song Corn-Shucking Song The Plough-Hands' Song Christmas Play-Song Plantation Play-Song A Plantation Chant A Plantation Serenade The Big Bethel Church Time Goes by Turns A Story of the War Jeems Rober'son's Last Illness Uncle Remus's Church Experience Uncle Remus and the Savannah Darkey Turnip Salad as a Text A Confession Uncle Remus with the Toothache The Phonograph Race Improvement In the Role of a Tartar A Case of the Measles The Emigrants As a Murderer His Practical View of Things That Deceitful Jug The Florida Watermelon Uncle Remus Preaches to a Convert As to Education A Temperance Reformer As a Weather Prophet The Old Man's Troubles The Fourth of July


Uncle Remus and the Savannah Darkey

The notable difference existing between the negroes in the interior of the cotton States and those on the seaboard—a difference that extends to habits and opinions as well as to dialect—has given rise to certain ineradicable prejudices which are quick to display themselves whenever an opportunity offers. These prejudices were forcibly, as well as ludicrously, illustrated in Atlanta recently. A gentleman from Savannah had been spending the summer in the mountains of north Georgia, and found it convenient to take along a body-servant. This body-servant was a very fine specimen of the average coast negro—sleek, well-conditioned, and consequential—disposed to regard with undisguised contempt everything and everybody not indigenous to the rice-growing region—and he paraded around the streets with quite a curious and critical air. Espying Uncle Remus languidly sunning himself on a corner, the Savannah darkey approached.

"Mornin', sah."

"I'm sorter up an' about," responded Uncle Remus, carelessly and calmly. "How is you stannin' it?"

"Tanky you, my helt' mos' so-so. He mo' hot dun in de mountain. Seem so lak man mus' git need de shade. I enty fer see no rice-bud in dis pa'ts."

"In dis w'ich?" inquired Uncle with a sudden affectation of interest.

[Illustration] from  by

"In dis pa'ts. In dis country. Da plenty in Sawanny."

"Plenty whar?"

"Da plenty in Sawanny. I enty fer see no crab an' no oscher; en swimp, he no stay 'roun'. I lak some rice-bud now."

"You er talkin' 'bout deze yer sparrers, w'ich dey er all head, en 'lev'm un makes one mouffle, I speck," suggested Uncle Remus. "Well, dey er yer," he continued, "but dis ain't no climate whar de rice-birds flies inter yo' pockets en gits out de money an' makes de change derse'f; an' de isters don't shuck off der shells en run over you on de street, an' no mo' duz de s'imp hull derse'f an' drap in yo' mouf. But dey er yer, dough. De scads 'll fetch um."

"Him po' country fer true," commented the Savannah negro; "he no like Sawanny. Down da, we set need de shade an' eaty de rice-bud, an' de crab, an' de swimp tree time de day; an' de buckra man drinky him wine, an' smoky him seegyar all troo de night. Plenty fer eat an' not much fer wuk."

"Hit's mighty nice, I speck," responded Uncle Remus, gravely. "De nigger dat ain't hope up 'longer high feedin' ain't got no grip. But up yer whar fokes is gotter scramble 'roun' an' make der own livin', de vittles w'at's kumerlated widout enny sweatin' mos' allers gener'ly b'longs ter some yuther man by rights. One hoe-cake an' a rasher er middlin' meat las's me fum Sunday ter Sunday, an' I'm in a mighty big streak er luck w'en I gits dat."

The Savannah negro here gave utterance to a loud, contemptuous laugh, and began to fumble somewhat ostentatiously with a big brass watch-chain.

"But I speck I struck up wid a payin' job las' Chuseday," continued Uncle Remus, in a hopeful tone.

"Wey you gwan do?"

"Oh, I'm a waitin' on a culled gemmun fum Savannah—wunner deze yer high livers you bin tellin' 'bout."

"How dat?"

"I loant 'im two dollars," responded Uncle Remus, grimly, "an' I'm a waitin' on 'im fer de money. Hit's wunner deze yer jobs w'at las's a long time."

The Savannah negro went off after his rice-birds, while Uncle Remus leaned up against the wall and laughed until he was in imminent danger of falling down from sheer exhaustion.