Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-12-06
Teachers in Atlanta Schools to
Tell Children of Noted
Author Monday.
By Dudley Glass

If the West End children who skate
and run and laugh before the shadiest
yard in Gordon street were to hurry and
be dressed before breakfast next Monday
and steal softly up the terraced lawn and
around behind the wistaria vines they
might see-if they had not lost their
children's visions and begun to have the
eyes of little grown folks-they might see
q strange, misty pageant, like little bits
Of cloud blown by breeze, just where
the sunshine melts into the shadow of the
old frame house.
If they kept perfectly still and be-
lieved in the things their mothers taught
them and didn't think Santa Claus was
all a story they might see Brer Rabbit
and the Tar Baby and Brer Fox and a
whole story book full of queer folk dane
ing on the lawn.
And they might see Mr.. Man and Old
Mis- Meaders and her daughters joining
in the dance, while Aunt Minervy Ann
and Uncle Billy Sanders, the Sage of
Shady Dale, looked on and smiled.
The Old, Old Negro Man.
And right IN the center of the sun
shine they might see an old, old negro
man, with grizzly gray whiskers and a
shiny bald head and a crooked cane, hold
ing by the hand wide-eyed little boy.
And the old, old negro would be Uncle
Esmus-the real Uncle Remus, who told
the stories to the little boy which other
little boys and girls have heard ever since
their pa pas and mammas were little boys
and little girls themselves. But they
would have to see with children's eyes.
You can see anything, you know If you'll
only believe hard enough.
For next Monday is Uncle Remus'
birthday Not the really, truly Uncle Re
mus, you know, but Joel Chandler Har
ris, the quiet, soft voiced man, with the
big black hat and the twinkle in his
eyes. who used to live in the old house
up the long walk, and who wrote 80 many
stories about the good old negro and the
little boy that everybody began to call
him Uncle Remus when they didn't for
get and call him Brer Rabbit.
And they say that on every one Of his
birthdays the animal people and all the
other queer folk he made wake up at
dawn and climb out Of the books in the
old bookcase in the study and come
trooplng out to the lawn to dance and
play 1t is the story folks celebration
Just like the children's lawn party every
summer in the field behind the big house
except grown folks can't come.
Many Children Remember Him.
Some of the children who haven't
climbed out of the fourth reader yet can
remember when Uncle Remus lived in the
house behind the trees. for their fathers
used to take them into Gordon street and
they'd stop at the walk.
There's the old wooden letter box on
the tree" their fathers would say. "A
wren built a nest in It once, and Mr.
Harris asked the postman to put his mail
somewhere else and not disturb the bird
mother That's why they call the place
The Sign of the Wren's Nest
And there's Uncle Remus, himself.
there at the edge Of his porch in the sun
shine. Don't ever forget you've seen him,
dearie. II will be something worth re-
Numbering when you've grown up lie
Is the man who loves children SO much
,hat he wrote whole books-oh, so many
hoolS-met to make them happy. And
tsc children from an over the world
have laughed and gone to sleep smiling
because their mothers read ~ them OF