"Very well," he said, "I'll come around and help you pack up, but before you go I want you to tell Sister here how you went to war and fought for the Union.-Remus was a famous warrior," he continued, turning to Miss Theodosia; "he volunteered for one day, and commanded an army of one. You know the story, but you have never heard Remus's version.
Uncle Remus shuffled around in an awkward, embarrassed way, scratched his head, and looked uncomfortable.
"Miss Doshy ain't got no time fer ter set dar an year de ole nigger run on.
"Oh, yes, I have, Uncle Remus!" exclaimed the young lady; "plenty of time."
The upshot of it was that, after many ridiculous protests, Uncle Remus sat down on the steps, and proceeded to tell his story of the war. Miss Theodosia listened with great interest, but throughout it all she observed-and she was painfully conscious of the fact, as she afterward admitted-that Uncle Rcmus spoke from the standpoint of a Southerner', and with the air of one who expected his hearers to thoroughly sympathize with him.
"Co'se," said Uncle Remus, addressing himself to Miss Theodosia, "you ain't bin to Putmon, en you dunner whar de Brad Slaughter place en Harmony Grove is, but Mars John en Miss Sally, dey bin dar a time er two, en dey knows how de lan' lays. Well, den, it 'uz right long in dere whar Mars Jeems lived, en whar he live now.
When de war come long he wnz livin' dere longer Ole Miss en Miss Sally. Ole Miss 'uz his ma, en Miss Sally dar 'uz his sister. De war come des like I tell you, en marters sorter rock along same like dey allers did. Hit didn't strike me dat dey wnz enny war gwine on, en ef I hadn't sorter miss de nabers, en seed fokes gwine outer de way fer ter ax de news, I'd a 'lowed ter myse'f dat de war wuz 'way off 'mong some yuther country. But all dis time de fuss wnz gwine on, en Mars Jeems, he wnz des eatchin' fer ter put in. Ole Miss en Miss Sally, dey tuck on so he didn't git off de fus' year, but bimeby news come down dat times wuz gittin' putty hot, en Mars Jeems he got up, he did, en say he gotter go, en go he did. He got a overseer fer ter look atter de place, en he went en jined de army. En he 'uz a fighter, too, mon, Mars Jeems wnz. Many's en many's de time," continued the old man, reflectively, "dat I hatter take'n bresh dat boy on accounter his 'buzin' en beatin' dem yuther boys. He went off dar fer ter fight, en he fit. Ole Miss useter call me up Sunday en read w'at de papers say 'bout Mars Jeems, en it hope 'er up mightly. I kin see 'er des like it 'uz yistiddy.
Remus,' sez she, 'dish yer's w'at de papers say 'bout my baby,' en den she'd read out twel she couldn't read fer cryin'. Hit went on dis way year in en year out, en dem wuz lonesome times, sho's you bawn, Miss Doshy-lonesome times, sho. Hit got hotter en hotter in de war, en lonesomer en mo' lonesomer at home, en bimeby 'long come de conscrip' man, en he des everlas'nly scoop up Mars Jeems's overseer. W'en dis come 'bout, ole Miss, she sont atter me en say, sez she:
"'Remus, I ain't got nobody fer ter look arter de place but you,' sez she, en den I up'n say, sez I:
'Mistiss, you kin des 'pen' on de ole nigger.'
"I wuz ole den, Miss Doshy-let lone w'at I is now; en you better b'leeve I bossed dem han's. I had dem niggers up en in de fier long 'fo' day, en de way dey did wnk wuz a caution. Ef dey didn't earut der vittles dat season den I ain't name Remus. But dey wuz tuk keer un. Dey had plenty er doze en plenty er grub, en dey wuz de fattes' niggers in de settlement.
"Bimeby one day, Ole Miss, she call me up en say de Yankees done gone en tuck Atlanty-dish yer ve'y town; den present'y I year dey wuz a marchin' on down todes Putmon, en, lo en beholesi one day, de fus news I know'd, Mars Jeems he rid up wid a whole gang er men. He des stop long nuff fer ter change hosses en snatch a mouffle er sump'n ter eat, but 'fo' he rid off, he call me up en say, sez he:
"'Daddy'-all Ole Miss's chilluns call me daddy-'Daddy,' he say, ''pears like dere's gwineter be mighty rough times 'roun' yer. De Yankees, dey er done got ter Madison en Mounticellar, en 'twon't be many days 'fo' dey er down yer. 'Tain't likely dey'll pester mother ner sister; but, daddy, ef de wns come ter de wns, I speck you ter take keer un um,' sezee.
"Den I say, sez I: 'How long you bin knowin' me, Mars Jeems?' sez I.
"'S ence I wuz a baby,' sezee.
"'Well, den, Mars Jeems,' sez I, 'you know'd 'twa'nt no use fer ter ax me ter take keer Ole Miss en Miss Sally.'
"Den he tuck'n squoze my han' en jump on de filly I bin savin' fer 'im, en rid off. One time he tu'n roun' en look like he wanter say sump'n', but he des waf' his han'-so-en gallop on. I know'd den dat trouble wuz brewin'. Nigger dat knows he's gwineter git thumped kin sorter fix hisse'f, en I tuck'n fix up like de war wuz gwineter come right in at de front gate. I tuck'n got all de cattle en hosses tergedder en driv' um ter de fo'-mile place, en I tuck all de corn en fodder en w'eat, en put urn in a crib out dar in de woods; en I bilt me a pen in de swamp, en dar I put de hogs. Den, w'en I fix all dis, I put on my Sunday doze en groun' my axe. Two whole days I groun' dat axe. De grinestone wuz in sight er de gate en close ter de big 'ouse, en dar I tuck my stan'.
