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de big road feelin' mighty proud en highstrung. He wuz a mighty high-up man in dem days, Brer Wolf wuz, en mos' all de yuther creeturs wuz feard un 'im. Well, he wuz gwine 'long lickin' his chops en walkin' sorter stiff-kneed, w'en he happen ter look down 'pon de groun' en dar he seed a track in de san'. Brer Wolf stop, he did, en look at it, en den he 'low:

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"Heyo! w'at kind er creetur dish yer? 10 Brer Dog ain't make dat track, en needer is Brer Fox. Hit's one er deze yer kind er creeturs w'at ain't got no claws. I'll des 'bout foller 'im up, en ef I ketch 'im he'll sholy be my meat."

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'Wid dat, Brer Wolf march todes des creetur des like he gwine ter squ'sh 'im in de groun'. De creetur rub hisse'f ag'in de tree en look like he feel mighty good. Brer Wolf keep on gwine todes 'im, en bimeby w'en he git sorter close de creetur tuck 'n sot up on his behime legs des like you see squir'ls do. Den Brer Wolf, he 'low, he did:

"Ah-yi! you beggin', is you? But 't ain't gwine ter do you no good. I mout er let you off ef you 'd a-minded me w'en I 15 fus' holler atter you, but I ain't gwine ter let you off now. I'm a-gwine ter l'arn you a lesson dat 'll stick by you."

'Dat de way Brer Wolf talk. He followed 'long atter de track, he did, en he look at it close, but he ain't see no print er no claw.' Bimeby de track tuck 'n tu'n out de road en go up a dreen whar de 20 rain done wash out. De track wuz plain dar in de wet san', but Brer Wolf ain't see no sign er no claws.

'He foller en foller, Brer Wolf did, en de track git fresher en fresher, but still he 25 ain't see no print er no claw. Bimeby he come in sight er de creetur, en Brer Wolf stop, he did, en look at 'im. He stop stock-still en look. De creetur wuz mighty quare lookin', en he wuz cuttin' 30 up some mighty quare capers. He had big head, sharp nose, en bob tail, en he wuz walkin' 'roun' en 'roun' a big dogwood tree, rubbin' his sides ag'in it. Brer Wolf watch 'im a right smart while, en 35 den he 'low:

"Shoo! dat creetur done bin in a fight en los' de bes' part er he tail, en mo' 'n dat, he got de eatch, kaze ef he ain't got de eatch w'at make he scratch hisse'f dat 40 away? I lay I'll let 'im know who he foolin' 'long wid."

Atter while. Brer Wolf went up a leetle nigher de creetur, en holler out:

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'Den de creetur sorter wrinkle up his face en mouf, en Brer Wolf 'low:

"Oh, you neenter swell up en cry, you 'ceitful vilyun. I'm a-gwine ter gi' you a frailin' dat I boun' yer won't forgit."

'Brer Wolf make like he gwine ter hit de creetur, en den -'

Here Uncle Remus paused and looked all around the room and up at the rafters. When he began again his voice was very solemn.

'Well, suh, dat creetur des fotch one swipe dis away, en 'n'er swipe dat away, en mos' 'fo' you kin wink yo' eye-balls, Brer Wolf hide wuz mighty nigh teetotally tor'd off'n 'im. Atter dat de creetur sa'ntered off in de woods, en 'gun ter rub hisse'f on 'n'er tree.'

What kind of a creature was it, Uncle Remus?' asked the little boy.

'Well, honey,' replied the old man in a confidential whisper, 'hit wa'n't nobody on de top-side er de yeth but old Brer Wildcat.'

(1889)

Heyo, dar! w'at you doin' scratchin' 45 UNCLE REMUS'S WONDER STORY yo' scaly hide on my tree, en tryin' fer ter break hit down?"

'De creetur ain't make no answer. He des walk 'roun' en 'roun' de tree scratchin' he sides en back. Brer Wolf holler out:

"I lay I'll make you year me ef I hatter come dar whar you is."

'De creetur des walk 'roun' en 'roun' de tree, en ain't make no answer. Den Brer

There was one story that the little boy whom Uncle Remus delighted to entertain asked for with great regularity, perhaps 50 because it has in it an element of witchcraft, and was as marvelous as it was absurd. Sometimes Uncle Remus pretended to resent this continued demand for the story, although he himself, like all the ne

. Wolf hail 'im ag'in, en talk like he mighty 55 groes, was very superstitious, and believed mad:

"Ain't you gwine ter min' me, you imperdent scoundul? Ain't you gwine ter

more or less in witches and witchcraft.

'Dat same ole tale,' he would say. 'Well! well! well! W'en is we gwine ter

year de las' un it? I done tole you dat tale so much dat it make my flesh crawl, kaze I des know dat some er deze yer lonesome nights I'll be a-settin' up yer by de fier atter you done gone. I'll be a-settin' up yer dreamin' 'bout gwine ter bed, en sumpin' 'n'er 'll come a-clawin' at de do', en I'll up en ax, "Who dat?" En dey 'll up en 'spon', "Lemme in." En I'll ondo de do', en dat ole creetur 'll walk in, en dat 'll be de las' er po' ole Remus. En den w'en dat come ter pass, who gwine take time fer ter tell you tales? Dat w'at I like ter know.'

mus?' the little boy asked, as though the tale were true, as indeed it seemed to be while Uncle Remus was telling it and acting it.

5 Tooby sho', honey! Dat 'zactly w'at she want. She want ter marry 'im, en eat 'im up. Well, den, w'en she git eve'ything good en ready, she des tuck 'n back 'er years, en bat 'er eyes, en smack 'er mouf, 10 and dar she wuz a likely young gal! She up en got ter de lookin'-glass, she did, en swinge 'er ha'r wid de curlin'-tongs, en tie ribbons on 'er cloze, en fix up 'er beau-ketchers. She look nice, fit ter kill,

The little boy, although he well knew 15 now. Den she tuck 'n pass by de man

that there were no witches, would treat this statement with gravity, as the story to him was as fascinating as one of the Thousand and One Nights.

'Well, Uncle Remus,' he would say, 'just tell it this time!' Whereupon the old negro, with the usual preliminary flourishes, began:

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'One time, 'way back yander, w'en de moon wuz lots bigger dan w'at she is now, 25 dar wuz er ole Witch-Wolf livin' 'way off in de swamp, en dish yer old Witch-Wolf wuz up to ter all sorts er contrariness. Look like she wuz cross-ways wid de whole er creation. W'en she wa'n't doin' 30 devilment, she wuz studyin' up devilment. She had a mighty way, de ole Witch-Wolf did, dat w'en she git hungry she'd change 'erse'f ter be a 'oman. She could des shet 'er eye en smack 'er mouf, en stiddier bein' 35 a big black wolf, wid long claws en green eye-balls, she'd come ter be the likelies' lookin' gal dat you mos' ever seed.

'It seem like she love ter eat folks, but 'fo' she kin eat um she hatter marry um; 40 en w'en she take a notion, she des change 'erse'f ter be a likely lookin' gal, en sails in en git married. Den w'en she do dat, she des take en change 'erse'f back ter be a wolf, en eat um up raw. Go whar you 45 kin, en whar you mout, en yit I don't 'speck you kin fin' any wuss creetur dan w'at dis ole Witch-Wolf wuz.

'Well, sir, at de same time w'en dis ole Witch-Wolf gwine on dis away, dey wuz 50 a man livin' in de neighborhood w'at she took a mighty notion fer ter marry. De man had lan', but she ain't want de lan'; de man had hosses, but she ain't want de hosses; de man had cows, but she ain't 55 want de cows. She des nat'ally want de man hisse'f, kaze he mighty fat en nice.'

'Did she want to marry him, Uncle Re

house, en look back en snicker, en hol' 'er head on one side, en sorter shake out 'er cloze, en put 'er han' up fer ter see ef de ha'rpins in der place. She pass by dis away lots er times, en bimeby de man kotch a glimp' un 'er; en no sooner is he do dis dan she wave her hankcher. De man he watch 'er en watch 'er, en bimeby, atter she kep' on whippin' by, he come out en hail 'er. En den she tuck 'n stop, en nibble at 'er fan en fumble wid 'er hankcher, en dey tuck 'n stan' dar, they did, en pass de time er day. Atter dat de sun never riz en set widout she hol' some confab wid de man; en 't want long 'fo' de man took a notion dat she de very gal fer a wife, w'at he bin a-huntin' fer. Wid dat dey des got right down ter ole-fashion courtin'. Dey'd laugh, dey'd giggle, dey 'd 'spute, dey 'd pout. You ain't never seen folks a-courtin', is you, honey?'

The little boy never had, and he said so. 'Well, den,' Uncle Remus would continue, you ain't none de wuss off fer dat, kaze dey ain't nuthin' in de roun' worl' dat 'll turn yo' stomach quicker. But dar dey wuz, en de ole Witch-Wolf make sho' she wuz gwine ter git de man; let lone dat, de man he make sho' he wuz gwine ter git de gal. Yit de man he helt back, en ef de Witch-Wolf had n't er bin afeard she'd drap de fat in de fier, she'd er des come right out en pop de question den en dar. But de man he helt back en helt back, en bimeby he say ter hisse'f, he did, dat he 'speck he better make some inquirements 'bout dis yer gal. Yit who sh'll he go ter?

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He study en study, en atter w'ile hit come 'cross he min' dat he better go en ax ole Jedge Rabbit 'bout 'er, bein' ez he bin livin' 'roun' dar a mighty long time.

'Ole Jedge Rabbit,' Uncle Remus would

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Man he up en 'spon', "Hit's me."

'Den Jedge Rabbit 'gin ter talk like one to er deze yer town lawyers. He 'low, he did, "Mighty short name fer grown man. Gimme de full entitlements."

Man he gun um ter 'im, en den ole Jedge Rabbit open de do' en let 'im in. 15 Dey sot dar by de fier, dey did, twel bimeby 't want long 'fo' de man 'gun ter tell 'im 'bout dish yer great gal w'at he bin courtin' 'long wid. Bimeby Jedge Rabbit ax 'im, sezee, "W'at dish yer great gal 20 name?"

Man he 'low, "Mizzle-Mazzle."

'Man he look skeerd. He up en 'low, he did, "W'at de name er goodness I gwine do?"

5"

'Ole Jedge Rabbit look sollumcolly. You got any cows?" sezee.

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'Man say he got plenty un um. "Well, den,' sez ole Jedge Rabbit, sezee, ax 'er ef she kin keep house. She'll say yasser. Ax 'er ef she kin cook. She 'll say yasser. Ax er ef she kin scour. She'll say yasser. Ax 'er ef she kin wash cloze. She'll say yasser. Ax 'er ef she kin milk de red cow. Den see w'at she say."

'Man, he 'low, he did, dat he mighty much erbleege ter ole Jedge Rabbit, en wid wat he make he bow en tuck he leaf. He went home, he did, en w'en he git dar, sho' 'nuff dar wuz dish yer nice-lookin' gal a pommynadin' up en down de road, en shakin' 'er hankcher. Man, he hail 'er, he did, en ax 'er how she come on. She 'low she purty well, en how do he do. Man say he feelin' sort er poly. Den she up en ax 'im w'at de matter. Man say he 'speck he feel po'ly kaze he so powerful lonesome. Den dish yer nice-lookin' gal, she ax 'im w'at make he so powerful lonesome. Man he say he 'speck he so powerful lonesome kase he want ter marry.

'Time de man come out so flat-footed 'bout marryin', de gal, she 'gun ter work wid 'er fan, en chaw at 'er hankcher. Den, atter w'ile, she up en ax 'im who he

'Jedge Rabbit look at de man sort er like he takin' pity on 'im, en den he tuk he cane en make a mark in de ashes. Den 25 he ax de man how ole is dish yer great gal. Man tol' 'im. Jedge Rabbit make 'n'er mark in de ashes. Den he ax de man is she got cat eyes. Man sort er study 'bout dis, but he say he 'speck she 30 is. Jedge Rabbit make 'n'er mark. Den he ax is 'er years peaked at de top. Man 'low he disremember, but he speck dey is. Jedge Rabbit make 'n'er mark in de ashes. Den he ax is she got yaller ha'r. Man 35 wan' ter marry. Man 'low he ain't no say she is. Jedge Rabbit make 'n'er mark. Den he ax is 'er toofs sharp. Man say dey is. Jedge Rabbit make 'n'er mark. Atter he done ax all dis, Jedge Rabbit got up, he did en went 'cross de room ter 40 de lookin'-glass. W'en he see hisse'f in dar, he tuck 'n shet one eye, s-l-o-w. Den he sot down en leant back in de cheer, en 'low, sezee:

"I done had de idee in my head dat 45 ole Mizzle-Mazzle done moof out 'n de country, en yit yer she is gallopin' 'roun' des ez natchul ez a dead pig in de sunshine!"

'Man look 'stonish, but he ain't say 50 nuthin'. Jedge Rabbit keep on talkin'.

"You ain't never bin trouble' wid no trouble yit, but ef you wan' ter be trouble' wid trouble dat 's double en thribble trouble, you des go en marry ole Mizzle- 55 Mazzle," sezee. "You nee'nter b'lieve me less 'n you wan' ter," sezee. "Des go 'long en marry 'er," sezee.

Den

ways 'tickler, kase he des want somebody
fer ter take keer er de house w'en he
gone, en fer ter set down by de fier, en
keep 'im comp'ny w'en he at home.
he up en ax de gal kin she keep house.
De gal she 'low, "Yasser!" Den he ax
'er ef she kin cook. She 'low," Yasser!"
Den he ax 'er ef she kin scour. She 'low,
"Yasser!" Den he ax 'er ef she kin
wash cloze. She 'low, "Yasser!" Den
he ax 'er ef she kin milk de red cow. Wid
dat she flung up 'er han's, en fetched a
squall dat make de man jump.

"Law!" sez she, "does you speck I'm a-gwine ter let dat cow hook me?"

Man, he say de cow des ez gentle ez a dog.

"Does you speck I'm a-gwine ter let dat cow kick me crank-sided?" sez she.

Man, he 'low, he did, dat de cow won't kick, but dat ar gal she tuck 'n make mo skuses dan dey is frogs in de spring branch, but bimeby she say she kin try.

But she 'low dat fus' 'fo' she try dat she 'll show 'im how she kin keep house. So the nex' mornin' yer she come, en I let you know she sailed in dar, en sot dat house ter rights 'fo' some wimmen folks kin tu'n 'roun'. Man, he say, he did, dat she do dat mighty nice.

Nex' day, de gal sot in en got dinner. Man say, he did, dat dey ain't nobody w'at kin beat dat dinner. Nex' day, she sot in 10 en scoured, en she make that flo' shine same ez a lookin'-glass. Man, he say dey ain't nobody in dat neighborhoods kin beat dat scourin'. Nex' day, she come fer ter milk de red cow, en de man, he 'low ter 15 hisse'f, he did, dat he gwine ter see w'at make she don't like ter milk dat cow.

De gal come, she did, en git de milkpiggin', en scald it out, en den she start fer de cow-lot. Man, he crope 'long atter ∞ de gal fer ter watch 'er. Gal went on, en w'en she come ter de lot dar wuz de red cow stan'in' in de fence-cornder wallopin' 'er cud. Gal, she sorter shuck de gate, she did, en holler, "Sook, cow! Sook, cow!" 25 Cow, she pearten up at dat, kaze she know w'en folks call 'er dat away, she gwine ter come in fer a bucket er slops.

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She pearten up, de red cow did, en start todes de gate, but, gentermens! time 30

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she smell dat gal, she 'gun a blate like she smell blood, en paw'd de groun' en shuck 'er head des like she fixin' fer ter make fight. Man, he 'low ter hisse'f dat dish 5 yer kinder business mighty kuse, en he keep on watchin'. Gal, she open de gate, but stiddier de cow makin' fight, she 'gun ter buck. Gal, she say, 'So, cow! so, cow, so!' but de cow she hist her tail in de elements, en run 'roun' dat lot like de dogs wuz atter 'er. Gal, she foller on, en hit sorter look like she gwine ter git de cow hemmed up in a cornder, but de cow ain't got no notion er dis, en bimeby she whirl en make a splunge at de gal, en ef 'de gal had n't er lipt de fence quick es she did de cow would er got 'er. Ez she lipt de fence, de man seed 'er foots, en, lo en beholes, dey wuz wolf foots! Man, he holler out:

"You oughter w'ar shoes w'en you come a-milkin' de red cow!" en wid dat, de old Witch-Wolf gun a twist, en fetched a yell, en made 'er disappearance in de elements,'

Here Uncle Remus paused awhile. Then he shook his head, and exclaimed: "T ain't no use! Dey may fool folks, but cows knows wil' creeturs by der smell.' (1889)

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LAFCADIO HEARN (1850-1904)

No other author of America, not even Mark Twain or Joaquin Miller, had a more pic turesque career or possessed a more puzzling personality than Lafcadio Hearn. Son of a Irish soldier and a Grecian mother, born on Leucadia, the Ionian island of Sappho, he passed a part of his boyhood with an aunt in Ireland and a part of it in France and in England where he was educated for the priesthood. At sixteen, however, he ran away, spent three obscure years in the London underworld, made his way to New York at nineteen, and later, drifting westward, worked for a time on the Cincinnati Enquirer. In 1877 he was in New Orleans, a reporter, pouring his eager, De Quincey-like dreamings into the city papers, and then, after a visit to Grande Isle in the Gulf of Mexico, publishing in the Times-Democrat his Torn Letters, which afterwards in 1888 were to appear in Harper's Monthly as Chita. From New Orleans, restless and excited, he drifted on to the Windward Islands where he wrote his Two Years in the French West Indies, then on to New York, and then, commissioned by the Harpers, on to Japan where he spent the rest of his life, marrying a Japanese wife, adopting the Bhuddist religion, and taking out naturalization papers as a citizen of the empire.

No other American has so filled his pages with color and sensation and florid impressionism as Hearn. His books, like Chita for instance, are a series of lurid pictures and intense sensuous impressions. It leaps and bounds, it chokes with tropic heat, it blazes with the sunsets of the Mexican gulf, it stagnates with torrid siestas, it is raucous with the voices of tropic insects and birds. It is incoherent. rhapsodic, half picture, half suggestion — materials rather than final structure. Later he did for Japan what he had done for the American tropics. It was something unique in English literature, for no other occidental has ever entered so completely into the soul of oriental life or has succeeded in so clearly interpreting it to the western world. His most enduring work undoubtedly is to be found in these Japanese studies, but his most thrilling and beautiful and intense books are those of his first inspiration, those colorful and moving pictures of the western tropics.

CHITA

THE LEGEND OF L'ÎLE DERNIÈRE 1

I

Traveling south from New Orleans to the Islands, you pass through a strange land into a strange sea, by various winding waterways. You can journey to the Gulf by lugger if you please; but the 10 trip may be made much more rapidly and agreeably on some of these light, narrow steamers, built especially for bayou-travel, which usually receive passengers at a point not far from the foot of old Saint- 15 Louis Street, hard by the sugar-landing. where there is ever a pushing and flocking of steam-craft- all striving for place to rest their white breasts against the levée, side by side,-like great weary zo

1 Reprinted from Chita: A Memory of Last Island, by arrangement with Harper & Brothers, the owner of the copyright.

swans.

But the miniature steamboat on which you engage passage to the Gulf never lingers long in the Mississippi: she crosses the river, slips into some canal5 mouth, labors along the artificial channel awhile, and then leaves it with a scream of joy, to puff her free way down many a league of heavily shadowed bayou. Perhaps thereafter she may bear you through the immense silence of drenched rice-fields, where the yellow-green level is broken at long intervals by the black silhouette of some irrigating machine; but whichever of the five different routes be pursued, you will find yourself more than once floating through somber mazes of swamp-forest,-past assemblages of cypresses all hoary with the parasitic tillandsia, and grotesque as gatherings of fetich-gods. Ever from river or from lakelet the steamer glides again into canal or bayou, from bayou or canal once more into lake or bay; and sometimes the

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