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's Church Experience

The deacon of a colored church met Uncle Remus recently, and, after some uninteresting remarks about the weather, asked: "How dis you don't come down ter chu'ch no mo', Brer Remus? We er bin er havin' some mighty 'freshen' times lately."

"Hit's bin a long time sence I bin down dar, Brer Rastus, an' hit'll be longer. I done got my dose."

"You ain't done gone an' unjined, is you, Brer Remus?"

"Not zackly, Brer Rastus. I des tuck'n draw'd out. De members 'uz a blame sight too mutuel fer ter suit my doctrines."

"How wuz dat, Brer Remus?"

"Well, I tell you, Brer Rastus. W'en I went ter dat chu'ch, I went des ez umbill ez de nex' one. I went dar fer ter sing, an' fer ter pray, an' fer ter wushup, an' I mos' giner'lly allers had a stray shin-plarster w'ich de ole 'oman say she want sont out dar ter dem cullud fokes 'cross de water. Hit went on dis way twel bimeby, one day, de fus news I know'd der was a row got up in de amen cornder. Brer Dick, he 'nounced dat dey wern't nuff money in de box; an' Brer Sim said if dey wern't he speck Brer Dick know'd whar it disappeared ter; an' den Brer Dick 'low'd dat he won't stan' no 'probusness, an' wid dat he haul off an' tuck Brer Sim under de jaw—ker blap!—an' den dey clinched an' drapped on de flo' an' fout under de benches an' 'mong de wimmen.

"'Bout dat time Sis Tempy, she lipt up in de a'r, an' sing out dat she done gone an tromple on de Ole Boy, an' she kep' on lippin' up an' slingin' out 'er han's twel bimeby—blip!—she tuck Sis Becky in de mouf, an' den Sis Becky riz an' fetch a grab at Sis Tempy, an' I 'clar' ter grashus ef didn't 'pear ter me like she got a poun' er wool. Atter dat de revivin' sorter het up like. Bofe un um had kin 'mong de mo'ners, an' ef you ever see skufflin' an' scramblin' hit wuz den an' dar. Brer Jeems Henry, he mounted Brer Plato an' rid 'im over de railin', an' den de preacher he start down fum de pulpit, an' des ez he wuz skippin' onter de platform a hym'-book kotch 'im in de bur er de year, an I be bless ef it didn't soun' like a bung-shell'd busted. Des den, Brer Jesse, he riz up in his seat, sorter keerless like, an' went down inter his britches atter his razer, an' right den I know'd sho' nuff trubble wuz begun. Sis Dilsey, she seed it herse'f, an' she tuck'n let off wunner dem hallyluyah hollers, an' den I disremember w'at come ter pass.

[Illustration] from  by

"I'm gittin' sorter ole, Brer Rastus, an' it seem like de dus' sorter shet out de pannyrammer. Fuddermo', my lim's got ter akin, mo' speshully w'en I year Brer Sim an' Brer Dick a snortin' and a skufflin' under de benches like ez dey wuz sorter makin' der way ter my pew. So I kinder hump myse'f an' scramble out, and de fus man w'at I seed was a pleeceman, an' he had a nigger 'rested, an' de fergiven name er dat nigger wuz Remus."

"He didn't 'res' you, did he, Brer Remus?"

"Hit's des like I tell you, Brer Rastus, an' I hatter git Mars John fer to go inter my bon's fer me. Hit ain't no use fer ter sing out chu'ch ter me, Brer Rastus. I done bin an' got my dose. W'en I goes ter war, I wanter know w'at I'm a doin'. I don't wanter git hemmed up 'mong no wimmen and preachers. I wants elbow-room, an I'm bleedzd ter have it. Des gimme elbow-room."

"But, Brer Remus, you ain't—"

"I mout drap in, Brer Rastus, an' den ag'in I moutn't, but w'en you duz see me santer in de do', wid my specs on, you k'n des say to de congergashun, sorter familious like, 'Yer come ole man Remus wid his hoss-pistol, an' ef dar's much uv a skuffle 'roun' yer dis evenin' you er gwineter year fum 'im.' Dat's me, an' dat's what you kin tell um. So long! Member me to Sis Abby."