The Birmingham age-herald., 1905-02-12
HATS where he lives Miss
 go right i'll that gate there" The conductor of the Gordon

The conductor of the Gordon avenue electric car pointed out the cot tage of Joel Chandler Harris, and l gath cred up my pencils and sketch book and alighted before the little white gate lead l ing into the tar baby's realm.
 Two cedars,dry and dusty from the August heat, threw protecting shadows over the little gate. Beyond lay a garden | of tall grasses magnolit trees and ter raced lawn surrounding house, wide- | spreading, homelike and comfortable, Us roof gabed with two queer little windows | peeping from under 1t like bright eyes. | l. old gr.v porch cdrvlns in broaG low sve eep around the dlngy sides ol ile l cottage was suome, ged in u sea of green spray of the tesciGg vines. Ivy and | wisterla. honeysuckle and the jasmine | flower. Some little pink roses slept ip tiny beds close to the house, their heads | dropping over fragrant petunias, | When 1 reached the porch steps l saw through the vines two little girls curled up in big armchairs, busily playing l checkers.
 "Is Mir Harris in?" enquired. "Y-e-s" 1 responded one of the children hesitating- 1 ly, but he's always busy early in the mornings. and he never sees anybody at | all;" then she added pleasantly seeing me | another moment she appeared shyly at l the screen door.
 Papa is so very busy wrlting-he begs | to be excused" she said. l It was my turn to hesitate 1 "I do not live in Atlanta" 1 explained. ] q have come a long dstance--could you tell him that please? If he is so busy TOW I would be willing to wait three | hours just to see him five minutes" l,,l. I a far n but perhaps it sounded so for Uncle Remus came out on the porch immediate | ly and so abruptly 1t took my breath away. I looked at him feeling at once that possibly a.. his life he might have lived off of red ham gravy, corn pone and cabbage-so unromantic did he ap- pear, comm onplace-as he says But his blue eyes are kindly eyes and true.
 T might as well tel you the worst first Mir Harris" I said as we shook hands and I rested for a second on the sense of the humor knew right well was there, 1 q have come to interview you"
 "Quicksandl Uncle Remrs dropped my hand and coldl. withdrew to the opposite pillar of the porch, and he stood there like the tar bG'y "sot," and 'he aint sayin' nothin'."
 The feeling of Brer Rabbit began to tickle through me I expressed myself
 
 My home life is net to be written up,' Uncle Remus responded in such tone that I didn't know "w't minlt wuz gwin- ter be de nex' " I then took refuge.
 "Mr Harris-you are a newspaper man yourself and you know exactly how 1t Is. Please-could you not talk a little | aayhow?"
 T don't know how to talk. Never talk ed in my life-never will talk-don't konw | to toll ranItad IInala | Remus
 Certainly this seemed conclusive, but let out one little word more, Your self?p
 There isn't anything to say about my self. have never done anything. don't know anything. live right here. l am a Georgia Cracker"
 "Georgia-crac6er?"
 Just a plain, ordinary, commonplace, everyday person-that's what I am."
 The third degree then appeared inevita- ble. Partly because I was nervous or perhaps tha. my appreeptiye basis was somewhat limited" being bound by Stoddard's Bungalow at the time, my next question flew beyond right fielder, for I asked uncle Remus if he had any | relics.
 He looked et me.
 T mea ," stammered, "any relics of
 
 Never travelled in my life" returned Uncle Remus hatly; wouldn't collect any relics if l did"
 50 you have nothing?"
 T have nothing"
 And you have never been anywhere at all?
 Never outside this fence" Not even into town?"
 "Oh yes, 1 go into town everyday about | nIa agn hut I rich Iaol here and stay Lere."
 You write editorials on the Constitu- tion don't you?'
 He nodded. Yes. surely he did not be- ieve as he says somewhere in giving out too much cloff fer one pa'ar pants.
 I then thought of more to say.
 Do you always do your writing out here at home Mir. Harris?'
 Again he nodded.
 What are you writing now besides your edi orials?
 "A book"
 What sort of a book?'
 plain old fashioned story of Georgia life during the war"
 "A novel?
 Not exactly that-don't know what To call it."
 Do you usually gather your material | right around these parts. and take long | 1 Don't talk to anybody-stay right here: I have all the material I want right in- side this fence" Do you write every day?'
 "Till three o',.oek when l walk around look at my roses"- he Jerked his thumb toward the little rose beds "If there were any Joe Chandler Harris reading clubs in Atlanta what would you do?"
 t | ,uo,,1d 0at ont
 When you get letters asking for your autograph what do you do?'
 "Burn em-thousands of 'em-throw 'em all away unless" his expression | grew less they are from little children from fifteen down. Whenever I get a letter beginning My dear Mir. Harris, I | am a little girl of ten years old or T am a little boy eight years old. or there abouts. save f and answer 1t right off"
 The silence that followed in the wake | of this big paragraph WIS intense. At length I asked Uncle Remus if he would show me his vegetables.
 You are welcome" he replied. and walked down first into the side yard. where he pointed out his favorite roses