JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.
“Uncle Remus” is a well-known character throughout the South, and his fame has even found its way northward. “Uncle Remus” is the literary nickname adopted by Mr. Joel Chandler Harris, a well-known journalist of the South. He was born in Eatonton, Georgia, on the 8th of December, 1846. At a very early age he was taken out of school, and placed at work as “printer’s devil” in the office of a country newspaper.
Charles Pilsbury, in a recent article, says of Harris: “He must have had access to many books, and those of the best sort, and he mastered them thoroughly. One can readily imagine him pursuing his studies in some shady nook in the summer time, and in the winter evenings by the blaze of pine knots or the modest tallow dip. It was in these days and evenings, we may be sure, that he obtained the insight into negro character, which has enabled him to portray in ‘Uncle Remus,’ theante bellumnegro.”
In 1866 Mr. Harris became connected with apublishing house at New Orleans, and he had plenty of spare time to devote to literature. He has written a good deal for southern periodicals, during the last five years; essays, sketches and lyrics have appeared from his pen that would have done honor to older heads. In January, 1867, he published in the New Orleans Times, a poem entitled The Sea Wind, which has been greatly admired.
He returned to Eatonton, Georgia, in May, 1867, where he wrote many articles in both prose and verse. In 1868 Mr. Harris was in Forsythe, Georgia, still bent on following literature as a profession. In June of the same year he was working at the case, and thought some of going to New York, to seek his fortune and a name. About this time he received the promise of an editorial position on a paper about to be established at Savannah, Georgia; and on the 12th of July he writes to a friend that he “thinks he was cut out for a paragraphing journalist.”
His newspaper promise failed to realize anything for him, however, and in October he was still at the case in a country newspaper office, longing for journalistic life in a great city. Two years later we find his hopes realized, and Mr. Harris became the associate editor of the Savannah Morning News. He worked hard, and soonplaced his name high in rank among Georgia journalists.
After six years of work on the Morning News, Harris purchased an interest in the Atlanta Constitution, and immediately joined its editorial staff. It was in the columns of the Constitution that Uncle Remus and his quaint humor first appeared. From this time forward his success has been rapid, and he has placed his name in the front rank among American humorists. Last year Mr. Harris published his first book, Uncle Remus; His Songs and Sayings. The work took wonderfully well with the public and has had an immense sale.
Of the later works of Uncle Remus, the following are very popular:
PLANTATION PROVERBS.Drive out de dreamin’ dog.Mighty few horses fits a barley hatch.Noddin’ nigger gives the ash-cake a chill.Don’t fall out wid de fat what cook de ’possum.Fightin’ nigger ain’t far from de callaboose.Ole cloze better go ’round de picket fence.You kin sell mo’ patter rallers dan boozer-bears.Short stirrups en a do’-back horse.Mighty good sheep w’ats wuff mo’ dan his wool.Sunday pra’rs ain’t gwineter las’ all de week.Lazy folks got too many ter-morrers ahead of um.Don’t hol’ yo’ head too high, less you gwineter eat out’n de hoss-rack.Hotter de wedder, de fresher de nigger. Dis w’at save de salt.One eye on de overseer en t’er on de mule don’t make de furrer straight.De shote w’at stays out in der dark er de moon, done gone from home fer good.Some marsters gotter be tuck on trus’. How de wurm git in de scaly-bark? Who raised de row twixt de bee-martin en de buzzard?
PLANTATION PROVERBS.
Drive out de dreamin’ dog.
Mighty few horses fits a barley hatch.
Noddin’ nigger gives the ash-cake a chill.
Don’t fall out wid de fat what cook de ’possum.
Fightin’ nigger ain’t far from de callaboose.
Ole cloze better go ’round de picket fence.
You kin sell mo’ patter rallers dan boozer-bears.
Short stirrups en a do’-back horse.
Mighty good sheep w’ats wuff mo’ dan his wool.
Sunday pra’rs ain’t gwineter las’ all de week.
Lazy folks got too many ter-morrers ahead of um.
Don’t hol’ yo’ head too high, less you gwineter eat out’n de hoss-rack.
Hotter de wedder, de fresher de nigger. Dis w’at save de salt.
One eye on de overseer en t’er on de mule don’t make de furrer straight.
De shote w’at stays out in der dark er de moon, done gone from home fer good.
Some marsters gotter be tuck on trus’. How de wurm git in de scaly-bark? Who raised de row twixt de bee-martin en de buzzard?
A PLANTATION BALLAD.
I.
De boss, he squall ter de rompin’ boys:Don’t bodder dat jug in de spring!De jug, he guzzle outgood, good, good!Nigger, he holler en sing:Oh, gimme de gal, de big greasy galW’at wrap up ’er ha’r wid a string!
De boss, he squall ter de rompin’ boys:Don’t bodder dat jug in de spring!De jug, he guzzle outgood, good, good!Nigger, he holler en sing:Oh, gimme de gal, de big greasy galW’at wrap up ’er ha’r wid a string!
De boss, he squall ter de rompin’ boys:Don’t bodder dat jug in de spring!De jug, he guzzle outgood, good, good!Nigger, he holler en sing:Oh, gimme de gal, de big greasy galW’at wrap up ’er ha’r wid a string!
De boss, he squall ter de rompin’ boys:
Don’t bodder dat jug in de spring!
De jug, he guzzle outgood, good, good!
Nigger, he holler en sing:
Oh, gimme de gal, de big greasy gal
W’at wrap up ’er ha’r wid a string!
II.
Little bird flutter w’en de big speckle hawkSail up en light in de pine;W’en de overseer come en look thro de fenceNigger don’t cut no shine,But he roll up he eye, en he break loose en sing:En I wish dat big gal ’us mine!
Little bird flutter w’en de big speckle hawkSail up en light in de pine;W’en de overseer come en look thro de fenceNigger don’t cut no shine,But he roll up he eye, en he break loose en sing:En I wish dat big gal ’us mine!
Little bird flutter w’en de big speckle hawkSail up en light in de pine;W’en de overseer come en look thro de fenceNigger don’t cut no shine,But he roll up he eye, en he break loose en sing:En I wish dat big gal ’us mine!
Little bird flutter w’en de big speckle hawk
Sail up en light in de pine;
W’en de overseer come en look thro de fence
Nigger don’t cut no shine,
But he roll up he eye, en he break loose en sing:
En I wish dat big gal ’us mine!
III.
Oh, de speckle hawk light in de top ob de pine,En dar he set en swing;De overseer lean his chin on de fence,En lissen at de cotton-choppers sing:Don’t nobody bodder dat sway-back galW’at wrap up ’er ha’r wid a string!
Oh, de speckle hawk light in de top ob de pine,En dar he set en swing;De overseer lean his chin on de fence,En lissen at de cotton-choppers sing:Don’t nobody bodder dat sway-back galW’at wrap up ’er ha’r wid a string!
Oh, de speckle hawk light in de top ob de pine,En dar he set en swing;De overseer lean his chin on de fence,En lissen at de cotton-choppers sing:Don’t nobody bodder dat sway-back galW’at wrap up ’er ha’r wid a string!
Oh, de speckle hawk light in de top ob de pine,
En dar he set en swing;
De overseer lean his chin on de fence,
En lissen at de cotton-choppers sing:
Don’t nobody bodder dat sway-back gal
W’at wrap up ’er ha’r wid a string!
IV.
Oh, de strappin’ black gal, de big greasy gal!She kyar herse’f mighty fine!How de boys gwineter foller along in de row,A-waitin’ for ter ketch her sign?De boss mighty close, yet I study en I wish—En I wish dat big gal uz mine!
Oh, de strappin’ black gal, de big greasy gal!She kyar herse’f mighty fine!How de boys gwineter foller along in de row,A-waitin’ for ter ketch her sign?De boss mighty close, yet I study en I wish—En I wish dat big gal uz mine!
Oh, de strappin’ black gal, de big greasy gal!She kyar herse’f mighty fine!How de boys gwineter foller along in de row,A-waitin’ for ter ketch her sign?De boss mighty close, yet I study en I wish—En I wish dat big gal uz mine!
Oh, de strappin’ black gal, de big greasy gal!
She kyar herse’f mighty fine!
How de boys gwineter foller along in de row,
A-waitin’ for ter ketch her sign?
De boss mighty close, yet I study en I wish—
En I wish dat big gal uz mine!
[The italics seem to mark what may be called the refrain choruses. The variable nature of these gives unexpected coloring—not to say humor—to the songs in which they occur. Any typographical arrangement of these choruses must be, in the very nature of things, awkward and ineffective.]
[The italics seem to mark what may be called the refrain choruses. The variable nature of these gives unexpected coloring—not to say humor—to the songs in which they occur. Any typographical arrangement of these choruses must be, in the very nature of things, awkward and ineffective.]