The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1911-01-04
UNCLE REMUS' LAST CHARACTER
Pretty Story Told of Joel Chandler
Harris

Not only did Uncle Remus" have
his enthusiasm, but he had a little
literary secret of his own, which he
died believing that no one had dis
covered, and out Of which he man.
aged to get a great deal Of mild
amusement.
When the magazine which he
founded came to consider the inau-
guration of a book-review depart
ment it was discovered that there
were very few people who could write
Just the sort of book reviews the
editor cared for. His assistants pre-
sented dozen or more aspiring cam
didates, but only one or two turned
out the sort of work Mr. Harris want
ed. Finally he came into the Office
one day with a rather triumphant air
and announced that he had discover
ed a book reviewer who almost suit
ed him.
She was an old maid, he said, a
woman Of nearly 60 years, and she
lived in London. He had known her
in Georgia before and during the war
and had always wondered why 1t was
that she had never written ANYTHING.
And he had lost track of her only to
resume an interrupted correspondence
d year or two before. She had agreed
to do book reviews and forward the
copy from London. Her name was
Anne MacFarland, and she had a
rather sour temper, and he preferred
to edit the copy himself.
The office force noticed that Mr..
Harris had always copied off Miss
MacFarland's reviews on his own
typewriter before sending them or
bringing them to the office, and they
also noticed in the first installment
that she had a style very like that
Of Mr.. Harris himself. When the
managing editor ran across the word
"pestered" in Miss MacFarland's
copy" he began to suspect that she
was Mr.. Harris himself.
But he did not tell Uncle Remus."
He waited for further and more con-
elusive evidence, and finally he got
it. but even then he did not unmask
the villain. He merely formed the
habit, as did the rest of the staff, of
sneering at Miss MacFarland's liter
ary views in Uncle Remus" hear
ing just to see how he would take it.
He took it with a chuckle and a
chew of tobacco to hide the chuckle,i
as rule; but he would be finally
driven to mild defense.
N"Well, she's an old woman" he
would say, "and she's soured a little
on the world. These old women get
little caustic you know. But I
think she can write. OF course, her
style doesn't have the go to it you
young fellows like. I've read better
stuff, and I've read worse stuff. She's
not one Of these rapid-fire perform
ers you young fellows admire-but
maybe she knows what she's talking
about, after all just as we'll as they
do"
We never admitted we liked Anna
MacFarland's style, and continued to
stick up our collective noses at her
work. well, you know-she's Just
and old fogy-just an old fogy like
me-" he would say, with a chuckle;
you can't expect her to please reai
literary critics like you young fell
lows" And with this shot he would
go out chuckling.
Gradually Anne MacFarland as
sumed a more and more tangible form
in Mr.. Harriss imagination. She be-
came the heroine Of a whole serial
story which he built up around her.
She was "buxom lass" when he last
saw her, he said, and sighed senti-
mentally. Finally we accused him of
an early romance with her, and he
denied it in such a way as to show
that the idea pleased him. and that
he would not care if we believed it.
And bit by bit we got the story OF
Anne's life and adventures out of him.
He did it all so naturally and so caus-
ually that, in spite Of our positive
knowing that Anne never existed,
there were times when we believed
in her.
We planned a denouement for the
little comedy, but it never worked out.
Mr.. Harris fell i'll, and the Anne Mac
Farland copy stopped coming in.
She was the last character he created.
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