The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1880-12-15
ATLANTA, Ca. Constitutional
Uncle Remus Was Bulldozed.

When Uncle Remus stepped into the Con-
stitution office last Thursday morning he was
compelled to undergo general handshaking
"a formality which seemed to subject him to
considerable momentary embarrassment. The
truth is, everybody was glad to see the old
man. He had not been seen in his accustomed
haunts since week or more before the Gov
ernors election, and it was feared that the la
bors Of an arduous campaign, supplemented by
the severe weather, and an accumulation of
years, might have been too much for him. But
to all appearances Uncle Remus was as lively
as ever. He was met with chorus of inquiry
as to his prolonged absence from the office.
'"Twixt the fammatory roomatiz an de
'stemper," said the old man by way of expla-
nation, ''dey amt much mo- lef er Remus dan
dish yer buckeye in my pocket, and dish yer
quodmire, sho, en- leetle mon I'd a bin gon-
er. Seem like sump'n alters gittin outer gear
ef faint de hame string, hits de back strop,
Gu eli faint de back strop, den it's de britchin'
en- 80 dar 1t goes" 4
Uncle Remus seemed to be in a reflective,
net to say melancholy, mood, but finally he
turned to the agricultural editor, in whose
Judgment and opinion he places great reliance,
and asked:
"Boss amt dis yer politick bizniss bout done
wild? Oar was dat 'leckshun longer Mars.
Aud Colkett en- Mars. Tom Nor'd, en- den dat
un bout de pres dents, en- den dat yuther one
yistiddy bout who gwine to patter-roll de
town. Look like dat mout be huff to las twell
after Christmas"
"Of the Two candidates, which was your
choice?" some one asked.
"Dat's wat wuz pesterin' un me,'' re-
sponded Uncle Remus. Long time ago,
Mars. Tom Nor'd tuck supper wild Mars.
John, en- atterwuds in de parlsr, Miss Sally,
ahn M n a an Mars Ton, 20
tuck his fiddle, witch fotch it myself fun de
hotel, en- dey had some ole time music, shos
you bawn. De peanner sass de fiddle, en- de
fiddle sass back, en- dar dey had it. twell bm-
Leetle mo, Of hadn't bin feard or dish yer
ketch in my hip, I'd tu'n loose ont dar witch
wuz STAMINA in de back po'ch, en- I'd shuk
de shingles off de roof. Dat wat make me
like Mars: Tom. Den, wen you git Mars.
Alfud Colkstt in de pulpit, witch done bin
ysar'd i'm dar, he de mos swadin' man wat
you ever sot eyes on. Wen he go ter shake
de mo'ners up he know 'zackly war ter hit.
Dat wat make me like Mars. Alfud. En- so
dar wuz twixt de hub en- de axle
'How did you vote in the Governors cleo
tionP' the agricultural editor inquired.
81 be bress eff I amt kinder mix up bout dat,
boss" replied Uncle Remus with great affec-
tation Of gravity. "Mars John, he gun me
ticket, en- say, sezee, dat he speck better go
long en- cas- my ballot TO dinner, but Miss Sal
", she up'n say witch I better rack roun'
clean up de front yard en- take de whole or de
evenin' fer ter cas- my ballots Den zen dill
ner time come on Miss Sally call me in de
kitchen en- dar wuz plate er greens en-
slishe er ham, en- pone er corn bread, en-
'mongst um wuz wunner desc yer Colkett tick
cts On whar Miss Sally raise dat ticket bangs
my time-hit do dat. But dar 'twuz, en- I
know it halter 60 long er de dinner, so | tuck
de ticket On stuff it en- my westcut pocket, en-
de dinner tuck n gobble up same like 1t wuz
wunner desc yer free lunches" Ut af
"And is that the way you voted?"
"Hit 'uz des dat way, boss: I done bin know
Miss Sally too long,
There was faint attempt on the part of
some of Uncle Remus's hearers to ridicule him
on the ground that he had been bulldozed, but
the attempt was failure.