"Brer Tarrypin he feel so good in de shade so cool, dat twa'n't long fo' he got ter noddin', en bimeby he drapt off en went soun' asleep. Co'se, Brer Tarrypin kyar he house wid 'im eve'ywhar he go, en w'en he fix fer ter go ter sleep, he des shet de do' en pull too de winder shetters, en dar he is des ez snug ez de ole black cat und' de barn. "Brer Tarrypin lay dar, he did, en sleep, en sleep. He dunner how long he sleep, but bimeby he feel somebody foolin' 'long wid 'im. He keep de do' shet, en he lay dar en lissen. He feel somebody tu'nin' he house 'roun' en 'roun'. Dis sorter skeer Brer Tarrypin, kaze he know dat ef dey tu'n he house upside down, he 'ull have all sorts er times gittin' back. Wid dat he open de do' little ways, en he see Brer Fox projickin' wid 'im. He open de do' little furder, he did, en he break out in a great big hoss laff, en holler : "Well! well, well! Who'd a thunk it! Ole Brer Fox, cuter dan de common run, is done come en kotch me. En he come at sech a time, too! I feels dat full twel I can't see straight skacely. Ef dey wuz any jealousness proned inter me, I'd des lay yer en pout kaze Brer Fox done fine out whar I gits my Pimmerly Plum.' "In dem days," continued Uncle Remus, speaking to the child's look of inquiry, "de Pimmerly Plum wuz monst'us skace. Leavin' out Brer Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin dey wa'n't none er de yuther creeturs dat yuvver got a glimp' un it, let 'lone a tas'e. So den w'en Brer Fox year talk er de Pimmerly Plum, bless gracious! he h'ist up he head en let Brer Tarrypin 'lone. Brer Tarrypin keep on laffin' en Brer Fox 'low: "Hush, Brer Tarrypin! you makes my mouf water! Whar'bouts de Pimmerly Plum?' "Brer Tarrypin, he sorter cle'r up de ho'seness in he throat, en sing: "Poun' er sugar, en a pint er rum, Aint nigh so sweet ez de Pimmerly Plum!' "Brer Fox, he lif' up he han's, he did, en holler: "Oh, hush, Brer Tarrypin! you makes me dribble! Whar'bouts dat Pimmerly Plum?' "You stannin' right und' de tree, Brer Fox!' "Brer Tarrypin, sho❜ly not!' "Yit dar you stan's, Brer Fox!' "Brer Fox look up in de tree dar, en he wuz 'stonish'. "What did he see in the sycamore tree, Uncle Remus?" inquired the little boy. There was a look of genuine disappointment on the old man's face, as he replied: "De gracious en de goodness, honey! Aint you nev' is see dem ar little bit er balls w'at grow on de sycamo' tree?" The little boy laughed. There was a huge sycamore tree in the center of the circle made by the carriage way in front of the "big house," and there were sycamore trees of various sizes all over the place. The little balls alluded to by Uncle Remus are very hard at certain stages of their growth, and cling to the tree with wonderful tenacity. Uncle Remus continued: "Well, den, w'en ole Brer Tarrypin vouch dat dem ar sycamo' balls wuz de ginnywine Pimmerly Plum, ole Brer Fox, he feel mighty good, yit he dunner how he gwine git at um. Push 'im clos't, en maybe he mought beat Brer Tarrypin clammin' a tree, but dish yer sycamo' tree wuz too big fer Brer Fox fer ter git he arms 'roun'. Den he up'n low, "I sees um hangin' dar, Brer Tarrypin, but how I gwine git um?' "Brer Tarrypin open he do' little ways en holler out:"Ah yi! Dar whar ole Slickum Slow-come got de 'vantage! Youer mighty peart, Brer Fox, yit somehow er nudder you aint bin akeepin' up wid ole Slickum Slow-come.' "Brer Tarrypin, how de name er goodness does you git um?' "Don't do no good fer ter tell you, Brer Fox. Nimble heel make restless min'. You aint got time fer ter wait en git um, Brer Fox.' "Brer Tarrypin, I got all de week befo' me.' "Ef I tells you, you'll go en tell all de te'er creeturs, en den dat'll be de las' er de Pimmerly Plum, Brer Fox.' "Brer Tarrypin, dat I won't. Des try me one time en see.' "Brer Tarrypin shet he eye lak he studyin', en den he 'low: "I tell you how I does, Brer Fox. W'en I wants a bait er de Pimmerly Plum right bad, I des takes my foot in my han' en comes down yer ter dish yer tree. I comes en I takes my stan'. I gits right und' de tree, en I r'ars my head back en opens my mouf. I opens my mouf, en w'en de Pimmerly Plum draps, I boun' you she draps right spang in dar. All you got ter do is ter set en wait, Brer Fox.' "Brer Fox aint sayin' nothin'. He des sot down und' de tree, he did, en r'ar'd he head back, en open he mouf, en I wish ter goodness you mought er bin had er chance fer ter see 'im settin' dar. He look scan'lous, dat's de long en de short un it; he des look scan'lous." "Did he get the Pimmerly Plum, Uncle Remus?" asked the little boy. "Shoo! How he gwine git pluin whar dey aint no plum?" "Well, what did he do?" "He sot dar wid he mouf wide open, en eve'y time Brer Tarrypin look at 'im, much ez he kin do fer ter keep from bustin' aloose en laffin'. But bimeby he make he way todes home, Brer Tarrypin did, chucklin' en laffin', en 'twa'n't long 'fo' he meet Brer Rabbit tippin' 'long down de road. Brer Rabbit, he hail 'im. "W'at 'muze you so mighty well, Brer Tarrypin?' "Brer Tarrypin kotch he breff atter so long a time, en he 'low: "Brer Rabbit, I'm dat tickle' twel I can't shuffle 'long, skacely, en I'm fear'd ef I up'n tell you de 'casion un it, I'll be tooken wid one er my spells whar folks hatter set up wid me kaze I laugh so loud en laugh so long." "Yit atter so long a time, Brer Tarrypin up'n tell Brer Rabbit, en dey sot dar en chaw'd terbacker en kyar'd on des lak sho' nuff folks. Dat dey did!" Uncle Remus paused; but the little boy wanted to know what became of Brer Fox. "Hit's mighty kuse," said the old man, stirring around in the ashes as if in search of a potato, "but endurin' er all my days I aint nev' year nobody tell 'bout how long Brer Fox sot dar waitin' fer de Pimmerly Plum." TO PÉPA.1 BY ALFRED DE MUSSET. (Translated by Toru Dutt.) [LOUIS CHARLES ALFRED DE MUSSET, French poet and dramatist, was born in Paris, November 11, 1810. Hesitating in the choice of a profession, he successively tried and abandoned law, medicine, and painting, and ultimately, 1 From "A Sheaf gleaned in French Fields." By permission of Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co. under the influence of the so-called romantic movement, applied himself to literature, making his début as an author with "Contes d'Espague et d'Italie " (1830). In 1833 he went to Italy with George Sand; but, after an extended trip, fell out with her at Venice, and returned to France alone. He was librarian to the Department of the Interior under Louis Philippe, and in 1852 was received at the French Academy. Irregular and dissolute living undermined his health, and he died at Paris, May 1, 1857. Among his noteworthy works are: the poem "Namouna"; "The Confession of a Child of the Century "; and the plays "Fantasio," "Barberine,” “Lorenzaccio,” “On ne badine pas avec l'Amour" ("One does not play with Love"), etc.] |