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Transcriber’s Note: The reader may wish to be warned that this book
contains language which is nowadays considered racially offensive.




[Illustration: _Drawn by A. B. Frost_

“_Is anybody ever hear de beat er dat?_”--“_Brother Rabbit’s
Laughing-Place_”]




                             _Told by_
                            UNCLE REMUS

                         New Stories of the
                           Old Plantation

                                _by_
                        JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS

                          _Illustrated by_
                      A. B. FROST, J. M. CONDE
                        _and_ FRANK UERBECK

                          GROSSET & DUNLAP
                            _Publishers_
                              NEW YORK

                 _Copyright, 1903, 1904, 1905, by_
                        JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS

        Copyright, 1903, 1904, 1905, by P. F. Collier & Son
    Copyright, 1904, 1905, by The Metropolitan Magazine Company

                    PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES
                                 AT
             THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.




CONTENTS


                                                              PAGE

         THE REASON WHY                                          3

       I WHY MR. CRICKET HAS ELBOWS ON HIS LEGS                 19

      II HOW WILEY WOLF RODE IN THE BAG                         37

     III BROTHER RABBIT’S LAUGHING-PLACE                        53

      IV BROTHER RABBIT AND THE CHICKENS                        74

       V LITTLE MISTER CRICKET AND THE OTHER CREATURES          87

      VI WHEN BROTHER RABBIT WAS KING                          101

     VII HOW OLD CRANEY-CROW LOST HIS HEAD                     126

    VIII BROTHER FOX FOLLOWS THE FASHION                       141

      IX WHY THE TURKEY-BUZZARD IS BALD-HEADED                 153

       X BROTHER DEER AN’ KING SUN’S DAUGHTER                  172

      XI BROTHER RABBIT’S CRADLE                               188

     XII BROTHER RABBIT AND BROTHER BULL-FROG                  205

    XIII WHY MR. DOG IS TAME                                   230

     XIV BROTHER RABBIT AND THE GIZZARD EATER                  243

      XV BROTHER RABBIT AND MISS NANCY                         266

     XVI THE HARD-HEADED WOMAN                                 276




LIST OF FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS


    “IS ANYBODY EVER HEAR DE BEAT ER DAT?”           _Frontispiece_

                                                       FACING PAGE

    “SO HE HOLLER DOWN THOO DE CRACK”                           34

    “‘DOES YOU CALL DIS GOOD LUCK?’”                            36

    “DEY SOT DAR … TALKIN’ ’BOUT OL’ TIMES”                     44

    “‘GIT ’IM USE TER DE BAG’”                                  48

    “‘DEN YOU COME ON HOME; YO’ MAMMY WANT YOU’”                50

    “WENT OFF HOME DES EZ GAYLY EZ A COLT IN A BARLEY PATCH”    80

    “‘BRER RABBIT, WHAR YOU GWINE?’”                            82

    “BRER FOX, SAY, ‘GENTS, … I WANTER TELL YOU DAT I’M DE
     SWIFFES’ ONE IN DIS BUNCH’”                                92

    “MR. ELEPHANT WENT SPLUNGIN’ THOO DE WOODS SAME EZ A
     HARRYCANE”                                                 96

    “SO HIS OL’ ’OMAN WENT OUT TER DE WOODPILE AN’ GOT DE AX”  150

    “SHE DREMP DAT BRER RABBIT WUZ LAUGHIN’ AT ’ER”            152

    “BRER DEER WENT ON FER TER TELL BRER RABBIT”               180

    “DE BEAU GOT TER FLINGIN’ HIS SASS ROUN’ BRER RABBIT”      272

    “DE GAL, SHE CRY SOME, BUT DEY WENT OFF AN’ GOT MARRIED”   274

    “DEN HE SHUCK A GOURD-VINE OVER DE POT”                    286

    “DE AX, IT CLUM BACK ON TOP ER DE WOODPILE AN’ FELL
     OFF ON T’ER SIDE”                                         290

    “DEN SHE LIT OUT ATTER DE POT LIKE SHE WAS RUNNIN’
     A FOOT-RACE”                                              292




TOLD BY UNCLE REMUS




THE REASON WHY


The main reason why Uncle Remus retired from business as a story-teller
was because the little boy to whom he had told his tales grew to be
a very big boy, and grew and grew till he couldn’t grow any bigger.
Meanwhile, his father and mother moved to Atlanta, and lived there for
several years. Uncle Remus moved with them, but he soon grew tired of the
dubious ways of city life, and one day he told his Miss Sally that if
she didn’t mind he was going back to the plantation where he could get a
breath of fresh air.

He was overjoyed when the lady told him that they were all going back
as soon as the son married. As this event was to occur in the course of
a few weeks, Uncle Remus decided to wait for the rest of the family.
The wedding came off, and then the father and mother returned to the
plantation, and made their home there, much to the delight of the old
<DW64>.

In course of time, the man who had been the little boy for ever so long
came to have a little boy of his own, and then it happened in the most
natural way in the world that the little boy’s little boy fell under the
spell of Uncle Remus, who was still hale and hearty in spite of his age.

This latest little boy was frailer and quieter than his father had been;
indeed, he was fragile, and had hardly any color in his face. But he was
a beautiful child, too beautiful for a boy. He had large, dreamy eyes,
and the quaintest little ways that ever were seen; and he was polite
and thoughtful of others. He was very choice in the use of words, and
talked as if he had picked his language out of a book. He was a source of
perpetual wonder to Uncle Remus; indeed, he was the wonder of wonders,
and the old <DW64> had a way of watching him curiously. Sometimes, as the
result of this investigation, which was continuous, Uncle Remus would
shake his head and chuckle; at other times, he would shake his head and
sigh.

This little boy was not like the other little boy. He was more like a
girl in his refinement; all the boyishness had been taken out of him by
that mysterious course of discipline that some mothers know how to apply.
He seemed to belong to a different age--to a different time; just how or
why, it would be impossible to say. Still, the fact was so plain that any
one old enough and wise enough to compare the two little boys--one the
father of the other--could not fail to see the difference; and it was a
difference not wholly on the surface. Miss Sally, the grandmother, could
see it, and Uncle Remus could see it; but for all the rest the tendencies
and characteristics of this later little boy were a matter of course.

“Miss Sally,” said Uncle Remus, a few days after the arrival of the
little boy and his mother, “what dey gwineter do wid dat chile? What dey
gwineter make out ’n ’im?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she replied. “A grandmother doesn’t count for
much these days unless there is illness. She is everything for a few
hours, and then she is nothing.” There was no bitterness in the lady’s
tone, but there was plenty of feeling--feeling that only a grandmother
can appreciate and understand.

“I speck dat’s so,” Uncle Remus remarked; “an’ a ole <DW65> dat oughter
been dead long ago, by good rights, don’t count no time an’ nowhar. But
it’s a pity--a mighty pity.”

“What is a pity?” the lady inquired, though she knew full well what was
in the old <DW64>’s mind.

“I can’t tell you, ma’am, an’ ’twouldn’t be my place ter tell you ef I
could; but dar ’tis, an’ you can’t rub it out. I see it, but I can’t say
it; I knows it, but I can’t show you how ter put yo’ finger on it; yit
it’s dar ef I’m name Remus.”

The grandmother sat silent so long, and gazed at the old <DW64> so
seriously, that he became restive. He placed the weight of his body first
on one foot and then on the other, and finally struck blindly at some
imaginary object with the end of his walking-cane.

“I hope you ain’t mad wid me, Miss Sally,” he said.

“With you?” she cried. “Why----” She was sitting in an easy-chair on the
back porch, where the warmth of the sun could reach her, but she rose
suddenly and went into the house. She made a noise with her throat as
she went, so that Uncle Remus thought she was laughing, and chuckled in
response, though he felt little like chuckling. As a matter of fact, if
his Miss Sally had remained on the porch one moment longer she would have
burst into tears.

She went in the house, however, and was able to restrain herself. The
little boy caught at the skirt of her dress, saying: “Grandmother, you
have been sitting in the sun, and your face is red. Mother never allows
me to sit in the sun for fear I will freckle. Father says a few freckles
would help me, but mother says they would be shocking.”

Uncle Remus received his dinner from the big house that day, and by
that token he knew that his Miss Sally was very well pleased with him.
The dinner was brought on a waiter by a strapping black girl, with a
saucy smile and ivory-white teeth. She was a favorite with Uncle Remus,
because she was full of fun. “I dunner how come de white folks treat
you better dan dey does de balance un us,” she declared, as she sat the
waiter on the small pine table and removed the snowy napkin with which
it was covered. “I know it ain’t on ’count er yo’ beauty, kaze yo’ ain’t
no purtier dan what I is,” she went on, tossing her head and showing her
white teeth.

Uncle Remus looked all around on the floor, pretending to be looking for
some weapon that would be immediately available. Finding none, he turned
with a terrible make-believe frown, and pointed his forefinger at the
girl, who was now as far as the door, her white teeth gleaming as she
laughed.

“Mark my words,” he said solemnly; “ef I don’t brain you befo’ de week’s
out it’ll be bekaze you done been gobbled up by de Unkollopsanall.” The
girl stopped laughing instantly, and became serious. The threats of age
have a meaning that all the gaiety of youth cannot overcome. The gray
hair of Uncle Remus, his impersonation of wrath, his forefinger held up
in warning, made his threat so uncanny that the girl shivered in spite of
the fact that she thought he was joking. Let age shake a finger at you,
and you feel that there is something serious behind the gesture.

Now, Miss Sally had taken advantage of the opportunity to send the
grandchild with the girl; she was anxious that he should make the
acquaintance of Uncle Remus, and have instilled into his mind the quaint
humor that she knew would remain with him all his life, and become a
fragrant memory when he grew old. But the later little boy was very shy,
and when he saw the terrible frown and the threatening gesture with which
Uncle Remus had greeted the girl, he shrank back in a corner, seeing
which the old <DW64> began to laugh. It was not a genuine laugh, but it
was so well done that it answered every purpose.

“I don’t see nothin’ ter laugh at,” remarked the girl, and with that she
flirted out.

Uncle Remus turned to the little boy. “Honey, you look so much like Brer
Rabbit dat I bleeze ter laugh. ’Long at fust, I had a notion dat you
mought be Mr. Cricket. But youer too big fer dat, an’ den you ain’t got
no elbows in yo’ legs. An’ den I know’d ’twuz Brer Rabbit I had in min’.
Yasser, dey ain’t no two ways ’bout dat--you look like Brer Rabbit when
he tryin’ fer ter make up his min’ whedder ter run er no.”

Then, without waiting to see the effect of this remark, Uncle Remus
turned his attention to the waiter and its contents. “Well, suh!” he
exclaimed, with apparent surprise, “ef dar ain’t a slishe er tater
custard! An’ ef I ain’t done gone stone blin’, dar’s a dish er hom’ny
wid ham gravy on it! Yes, an’ bless gracious, dar’s a piece er ham! Dey
all look like ol’ ’quaintances which dey been gone a long time an’ des