Newspaper Page Text
The Other Woman |
Louise Finds That Her Little Girl Is Devotedly
Attached to Mrs. Hampton,
By Virginia Terhune Van De
Water.
CHAPTER LVII,
(Copyright, 1917, ‘Star Company.)
HAVE said that my mother-in-law
I never inquired into our affairs aft
cr the plain talk she ahd I had
on the day that I lunched with her.
Yet, in spite of this new regime, she
was always willing to be on hand if
we needed her. She was constantly
doing kindnesses, yet was neirer ob
trusive enough to warrant me in re
zenting them, e
1 realized that with each passing
week my husband found her more nec
\ssary, The phrase “We will ask
'mher." or “Let’'s see what mother
thinks” was on his lips even more
frequently than when we were first
magied, I tried to be amused at the
haMft. At times I found it difficult to
be patient with it,
But sorrow and experience were
teaching me, although slowly, and 1
did not speak out my irritation as
impulnvely'aa I had once done.
Jack was fond of society, and now
that Baby Lou was well and strong,
he often Insisted on accepting invita
tions for himself and me to run out
of town for week-ends, He also liked
to take me with him upon his shprt!
business trips. We were seldom
away from home for more than a few
days at a time, but even so, neither}
of us would have been willing to leave ‘
Lou alone in the house with only
hirelings to care for her.
Mrs. Hampton was the logical per
son to stay with the child. Jack took
this as a matter of course, At first
I hesitated to ask such a favor of
her.
“It is a good deal to expect your
mother to leave her own comfortable
rooms and come to our house for our
convenience,” 1 protested once when
he suggested to her that she look after
TLou during one of our brief absences.
Mrs. Hampton laughed at my ob
jections. “You do not know what a
Joy it is to me to stay with my little
granddaughter,” she declared. “We
have good times together, don't we,
Sweetheart?” taking the child upom
her lap.
An Adoring Child.
Lou threw her arms about her
grandmother’s neck and hugged her
violently.
“Gran’muvver must come and stay,”
she insisted. “I yuve granmuvver.”
“There’s the answer,” Jack teased.
“Seeing that pair together, and noting
the beatific expression on mother's
face, can you doubt whether she
wants to exchange her own quarters
for the abode of Her Royal Highness,
Princess Lou?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind, Mrs.
Hampton—l mean that it is not in
convenlent to you?” I insisted.
She stopped laughing. “It is a great
happiness to come, my dear,” she as
sured me. “Not only am I honored
at the trust reposed in me, but it js a
soy to have the opportunity of being
with Lou. You forget that she is my
only grandchild. It makes life easier
when I see that she loves me and
that some one depends upon me."”
Do You Know That
The Laps, who have been settled for
centuries past in’ the northerm parts
of the Scandinavian peninsula and Rus
sia, were orignally nomads subsisting on
thelr reindeer herds, but they are now
settling among the inhabitnts of the
country.
* - =
.
Throughout the tropical Orient the
ratives employ a substitute for tobacco
consisting of a slice of arica-palm nut,
wrapped in betel leaf, flavored with a
fine lime made of native seashells and
colored with carmine.
- . -
It is claimed that the sunniest spots
in the United Kingdom are the Channel
Jslands, which enjoy sunshine during
$9.9 per cent of the time _the sun is
above the horizon in the course of a
year. ; %4
-~ - - X
it is asserted that the best marksmen
are usually those with blue or gray
Are You Following ““The Hidden Hand’’ Here Each Day? It Is a Thrilling and Romantic Story
THHE G RORGIAN SY@ M AGCAZINEPAGE
As always when she spoke thus,
Jack’s face became tender.
“Dear mother,’ he sald compassion
ately, “don’t talk like that. You must
know how necessary you are to Louise
and me, and how essential to our hap
piness.” ‘ |
“Thank you, darling,” she acknowl
edged, patting his cheek. “Now, tell
me when you children want me to
come."”
She had not given me time to sec
ond Jack's speech. Did she fear that
there might be an awkward silence
while I tried to frame a suitable re
mark that would be truthful also? I
admired her tact in avolding facing
this issue. I also regretted that, in
spite of my best endeavors, she sus
pected that I could not honestly echo
my husband's words of affection for
and dependence upon her.
Yet when I was away it was good
’to know that my child was in safe
‘hands. Once, when Jack and 1 were
‘ in Boston, there occurred a bad fire in
‘the house next door to our own. Mrs.
\ Hampton telegraphed at once that our
‘home and baby were perfectly safe.
}"Nobody was even frightened,” she
;added.
| The Perfect Mother.
At first it seemed to me ridiculous
to send us this message. We would
‘have learned the facts when we
reached home.
But when, in the New York eve
ning papers—which J:.;:k bought in
the hotel lobby—we read accounts of
the destruction of our neighbor's
handsome property, Jack called my
attention to his mother's wisdom and}
kindly forethought.
~ “Just fancy how frightened we.
would have been had we seen these
notices and received no word from
her,” he remarked. |
And I was forced to agree that Mrs.
Hampton had done the right and wise
thing in telegraphing as she did, al
though at first the lengthy message
had struck ine as a work of superero
gation and as a Dbit of sensationalism
that cogld have been dispensed with,
Each time that we came back rrom“
one of our visits I saw more clearly
how dearly my little girl loved Mru.‘
Hampton. The child was always Ju-‘
bilant with joy at our return, but she‘
would burst into tears later when her
‘granémother bade her good-bye.
“I want gran-muvver to stay!” she
would sob.
I told myself I did not mind these
occurrences. Yet one day I felt a sud
den pang when Lou asked when her
father and I were going away.
“Why?” I demanded. *“You don't
want us to go, do you, darling?"”
“No,” she said slowly, “only I do
want gran-muvver to come.”
My husbard laughed with pleasure
at this speech.
“Can you beat it!” he exclaimed.
“Even’ Baby recognilzes that not a sin
gle member of this family could get
along without mother, Bless her, she
deserves all the love we all give her!”
I hoped he was not offended by my
silence. 1 assured myself that it was
not the silence of jealousy.
(To Be Continued.)
One of the largest and most cumber
some forms of money is found in Central
Africa, where the natives use a cruci
form ingot of copper ore more than 10
inches long. i j
v L ®
A rich Chinaman’s servants receive no
salary, but their perquisites amount to
much more than the salaries paid in less
wealthy households.
. * -
Costa Rica now manufactures and ex.
ports Portland cement, a quarry of ap
propriate stone having been recently dis
covered.
- . .
In Russia no photographer may prac
tice his art without a license.
. = .
It is said that a single swallow will
devour 6,000 flies in a day.
¢« o o
There is a Bible written on palm
leaves in Gottingen University.
o . -
Asia contains more than half of the
people in the world.
THE HIDDEN HAND 7"
The Dying Grand Duke Explains the Significance of Doris’s
. Strangely Shaped Locket.
SBYNOPSIS.
Doris Whitney, heiress of Judson
Whitney, coming to the library to
meet her father, finds him shot and
a stranger who was calllng on him
also shot. She calls help und the
dying man accuses his secretary,
Jack Ramsey, of shooting him. Whit
ney dies and .the stranger, who
proves to be the Grand Duke, Alex
levitch, tells Doris that she is his
daughter, that she was condemned to
death when a baby by the Czar on
the representations of a mad Monk,
Rascon, that she would exercise a
malignant influence over the ruler’s
life. The Duke was exiled.
ARTHUR B. REEVE,
Creator of the “Craig Kennedy”
mystery stories, which appear ex
clusively in Cosmopelitan Maga
zine, :
EPISODE 1.
‘‘The Gauntlet of Death.”’
(Copyright, 1917 Star Company.)
HE Grand Duke again
paused in his recital. Doris
~ listened, petrified at the
tale. Could it be ture? Was not
Judson Whitney her own father?
Was her father really this
stranger?
Abner, on his part, was listen
ing with growing avidity. It was
easy to see what passed in his
mind. As for Dr. Secarley, he
still listened, but with his face
averted and hard set, Verda
was startled, Ramsey impassive.
The voice of the Grand Duke
again recalled the overwrought
listeners to themselves.
‘“After nearly eighteen years
of exile,’”’” he resumed, ‘‘the Em
peror sent for me secretly. . I
did not know what to expect.
Perhaps I was to be executed,
though for what I did not know.
I did not care. I had lost all.
‘“ As I entered the throne room,
the Emperor extended his hand.
Unreconsiled, I refused his hand.
To my utter surprise, he drew
back almost in fright—of me!
Quickly he dismissed his at
tendants. Then he came close to
me and whispered, I could scarce
ly believe what I heard.
‘“ “Your daughter is alive. I
did not kill the baby.’
‘“The words rang in my ears.
Could it be true?
~ ‘“ “Come with me,’ ordered the
Emperor. :
‘‘He lead the way from tha
throne room, and I followed in
a daze, not knowing where I was
going until suddenly I realized
that I was in his inner strong
room, bomb-proof, lined with
steel. He closed and bolted the
steel door. |
“‘Be seated,’ he continued, as he
puiled open a locked door on the wall,
disclosing a sort of cabinet. ‘
“Then he related to me the strange
tale—how eighteen years before.‘
when I had been dismissed into exile,
he had left the throne room withi
Rascon, how he had dismissed the‘
Mad Monk at the door of this very
room, promising to make away with;
the baby. In this room he walited
with the child until there was
brought to him a young American
railfoad engineer, Judson Whitney.”
There was a thrill at the mention
of the name, as all crowded closer,
drinking in the strange tale,
“lI leave you to guess,” continued
the Grand Duke, “whether there wete
ulterior motives in the mind of the
Emperor as he thought over the
prophecy that the baby would one
day be the most beautiful woman in
the world. At lease, I know this,
that the agreement was signed by
cudson Whitney, forced by the Em
peror.
“ ‘I, Judson Whitney, an American,
in consldera'tion of railroad contracts
trom the Emperor, pledge myself to
WEDNESDAY, NOV. 28, 1917.
" I R b
RN % e 3 §
g P R S RSR S e W o
L jGG SRO PR Ji 3
ks B i ",) i : 11‘-:5:.72 ; \?: :y: 3 \"'« S i O & ¥ s N
b 2 s B e BN ¥ g g 3
& AR S R 3 S oead B e P &
REg v 8 S 3 "‘"} R 3 3
3 Sy W 3 it e 3 :
e e 5, g
B 8 g R eg T 8 LT R H
0 R i et S |
e B %«?‘ : P b : : al
SR PR e R RS O TR
R e el %
25 BURERc R T » x SR 2
5 B S X : X & X 3
s @ P B 3 S 4
LR o ST g 5 S = D » =8
F B pEC SR R B %
7 Bs TR o i W, . 4
1 IS RS RS g M % o #
i 3 IR 4@‘ R x . %
iDR 2TR O e ; el o R
ox{ so oy 'SO T::'»:-:“--::E»":'- S s ey "‘é:’:-.'.‘?.‘% %3 .
> ~’ T\ RS SR X 3 3 TR ’) g R
W e L L
. . B SRR R N SERan ;SR Y
% LSRR e ; :)%.ua RS
i oN /\ e ?\:‘%’x\«: gy ,_’}‘:"s3 Rk ;\
L o y - $ fers o e S
& R O RN S R
o kR OB i $36 F IR ERE i
“ GA R T S Y
Bx ! b R R A SFTe
G:ge e 5 N
b TSR TR BT R
B 2 R R P R
3 R |
R bR R T
B AR : ’ N 3 9
L % s
& ik B
X“{ i [
i S e 3
R RE: i ¢ R 0 s % 3 3 ¥
i g : ¢ g e i Tt Y
3 : g : oo
3 g BN P i e : - F
t . N .
}:£o3 & R % 4
o B > % R SR %
B ; e b
b 3 s ; e s e
¥BXG S ‘ ¢ T
_- e 3 gl e
; ; el f;"{q? o oo ;
) i 15 AN g ; R 1
: e A A 023 % k'(b ‘K\, seSy A
b\LT BN I ".. ?'Q : N 95 ,_" G 2 S
; 73-*’«~.§.‘¢<'3ls BV) TR eoo," B ok ; R o
o 2 s AN ST I L M 013 56
A recent photograph of Doris Kenyon, the star
in “The Hidden Hand.”
take care of one Infant child, de
livered to me this day, and hereby
agree to surrender her on her
eighteenth birthday.
“ (Signed) JUDSON WHITNEY.
“Then,” raced on the Grand Duke,
“the Emperor told me that he took
a plece of blackened paper. On it
he placed the two hands of the baby,
covering the palms with the black.
Then on a perfectly white sheet of
The Ring and the Cake
ANET, you make absolutely the
best cakes in the world. They
fairly melt in one’s mouth.”
‘l'm glad you like them, Lucile,”
answered Janet, wondering what her
cousin wanted of her now; for Lu
cile's compliments to herself un
usually exacted a toll. :
| She had not long to wait. “And
tomorrow is Webb Saxton’s birthday,
and I wonder {f you won't make a
Lady Baltimore and let me give to
‘him as a present. You know what a
fiend he ig for cake. And then, dear,
don’t tell him that you made it—llet
him belleve it was I-—he will enjoy it
the more.” ‘
“l will make the cake, of course,
Lucile. And I am not likely to give
its history to Webb., We are not in
the habit of holding long and vol
uminous conversations on any
‘theme.” In spite of her efforts to
speak pleasantly, there was’ just the
slightest trace of bitterness in her
tone.
Janet was an orphan, and she had
been brought up in the home of her
uncle, the father of Lucile. And, like
others who partake of this diet, she
had not found the bread of depend
ence sweet. She was heart-sick to
make her own living, but her uncle—
a proud, stern old man—had strictly
forbidden it. No woman in his family
had ever worked—she would cast a
reflection upon his generosity, an put
a blot upon the name of Whitney.
And so there seemed to be nothing
she could do but to stay on and take
what was given to her, and to sub
mit to being always put into the
background by Lucile.
As Janet made her preparations for
the cake the spirit of revolt grew
more and more within her. Why did
the family try so persistently to keep
her from the room when young men
called, especially Webb Saxton? She
was glad to be making a cake for
Webb, of course—here she flushed
though there was no one near to see
—but why should Lucile receive the
credit for it, as she did for so many
things to which she—Janet—was
Justly entitled? |
She remembered that only _\-ostor-‘
day Mrs. Talbot, the dressmaker, had
sald that some one had said that
some one else had said that Webb
Saxton -had informed another, that
when he married hig wife must be a'
good housekeeper and conk, and that
no amount of other accomplishments
could make up for a defect in these,
the essential ones. And no doubt
these sentiments, and Lucile’'s desire
to pose as the maker of the birth
day cake, stood in the relation of
cause and effect. |
Janet thought of all these things|
a 9 she sifted thé flour, and, uncon
sclously she gave little vicious shakes
to the sifter that sent a white cloud
streaming into the bowl. Suddenly|
she stopped, with the sifter srill in
her hands, and an odd expression
came into her face. An idea so dar
raper hoe lald the little hands, leav
ing on the white paper the hand
nrirts, which never change through
out life.
“Next, he took two packets of
metal, in each of which was a curfous
depression in the side. 'The Em
peror also had two jewel-studded
lockets,”
The Secret Locket.
The Grand Duke fingered that
ing as to almost take away her
breath. “I'll do it!” she declared, ‘T'll
do it!” and she put on a defiant alr,
ahd set her lips together in a line,
straight and firm.
The next evening Webb called to
convey his thanks for the birthday
cake. That cake was a masterplece,
he affirmed—it spelled the topmost
peak in culinary art—the gods on
Mt. Olympus had nothing on him
with their old nector and ambrosia,
and this delectable confection she had
sent to him would make the tables in
the old gormandizing days of Rome
look like thirty cents. So, ih a very
eloquent manner, he sang the Rubai
yat of the cake.
“Yes,” said Lucile, “I was thinking
al Ithe time I was making it, how well
you would enjoy it. I would allow no
one near me, for I wanted that cake
to be my very own.,”
“That was certainly sweet of you,”
he said. “But you have missed noth
ing, Lucile?”
“Missed nothing? Why, no,” she
replied, looking surprised.
They were interrupted by the en
trance of Janet. She semef much
agitated. “Lucile,” she asked in a
trembling voice, “have you seen any
thing of my ring—mother’'s wedding
ring? I had it on yesterday morning,
but I have not sen it since.”
“No,” answered Lucile, coldly, “how
should 1 have seen it?”
“Is this the ring you lost?”’ queried
Webb as he took a plain cold ring
from his pocket. “I found it in my
birthday cake.”
‘“Yes, that is it. Thank you very
much.” She took the ring with down
cast eyes, and left the room.
Lucile’'s face was fiery red. “I can’t
think how that ring got in that cake,”
fte stammered.
“Strange things happen sometimes,”
said Webb, dryly; and that was all
the comments that were made.
Webb went home in a thoughtful
mood. Lucile was a bheautiful girl,
and he had been perilously near a
proposal; but her evident deceit had
drawn him away from the brink.
As times went by, he found himself
thinking more and more of Janet's
sweet pale face, and out of the
shapely hand that had been extended
toward him for the ring. And he
wondered how he had been so blind‘
as to never notice before that she was
an unusually attractive girl. At last
the desire grew up in his Jheart to
give Janet a diamond ring as a com- |
panion to the gold one he had found
in the birthday cake, ‘
And the night after he had ex-|
pressed his love for Janet she went!
to her room and took the little gold
band from her finger. She fondled‘
it loveingly and Kkissed it again and
again. “Dear ring,” ghe said, “I love
vou with all my heart, T had a feel
ing the day I cast vou in the batter
that you would return to me after
manv Adays. brifiging in the sheaves.”
Janet's metaphors were a trifle
mixed, but zh@ was a thoroughly
happy girl. ; |
'about the neck of Doris, who drew
back.
To me then he showed that the
locked pressed into the derression
on the face of the packet would
open it. He had torn the shect of
paper, he said, in half, and !n each
packet he had placed one hand print
—in one the right, in the other the
‘left hand print of the baby. Then
he had closed the packets. One lock
et he placed about the neck of the
‘baby as he handed her to Judson
‘Whitney and bade him take ter to
America.
“As the Emperor told me of what
he had done so long ago, I reached
for the packst. He drew {t hack in
alarm, ‘Walt, he cried, ‘that is an
lexploslve packet. If you press the
spring in this case, you will be blown
apart. It can be opened only with
the secret locket, which fits into the
side with its seven jewels, each In
its right place.”
“I drew back frightened,” continuea
the Grand Duke, “but the Emperor
opened the packet with the locket.
Sure enough, there was the hand
print. He closed it and handed it to
me, Never had I dreamed of such a
welcome mission. It waa nothing else
than to go to America, to find the
girl with the locket thz: would open
this explosive case and whose hand
prints now correspond with those of
the baby hand.
“If I produce her—my daughter—on
her eighteénth birthday, and the pre
diction does not come true, he, the
Emperor himself, has given me his
word that he will execute Rascon asa
charlatan and a liar for his wickea
prophecy.” x
The old man was nearly overcome
with excitementsat the marvelous re
cital. Doris fingered the locket now
almost fearfully, Was it all true?
Her father had never-—she stopped.
Who was her father? Who was she?
She glanced at her flance. His fape
was still averted. Flatt moved. over,
crassly, and examined the locket,
Evidently the strength of the Duke
was ebbing, for he was seized with a
fit of coughing as he resumed, weak
‘ly:
'RAMSAY ACCUSED.
“Tonight I called on Judson Whit
ney. I was ushered in here by the
butler, Mr, Whitney was alone. Asl
began to tell him he grew more and
more angry. Just then there entered |
a young man, whom I gathered to be ‘
his secretary. Mr. Whitney hadi
scarcely begun talking so him, when‘
this young man saw the explosive
case in my hand. He tried to selzeit. \
I kept hold of it, struggling and
throwing him off. Angry as Mr. Whit
ney had been at me, he was furious
at the secretary.
“At the height of the altercation the
young man leaped back, drew a re
volver with the thing you Americans
call a silencer, and fired. Mr., Whit
ney fell. Y leaped at the man, but he
fired at me, It is the last I remember
—until I revived here.”
Flatt snapped shut his notebook
looking menacingly at Ramsay, while
Doris swayed and would have fainted
had not Uncle Abner caught her, The
Grand Duke, weak from his coughing
fits, begged for her hand, for some
expression of fillal love, but Doris
knew not what to do or say.
“Get up,” demanded Flatt ap
proaching Ramsay. 1
Silently Ramsay obeyed as the de
tectives hustled him toward the divan,
“Is this the man?” shot out Flatt.
“Yes—yes,” cried the Grand Duke,
almost in a frenzy now.
He reached into his breast as if to
find the explosive case, and a cry es
caped him. It was gone!
“You—their,” he cried, staggering
forward. “Give it back.” ‘
The Grand Duke lurched forward.‘
tottered and fell-—dead at the feet of
the young secretary. \
For the first time now Dr. Scarley,
seeing that his services as a medical
man were needed again, turned 'trom |
the fireplace. A hurried examination
told only too plainly that the man
was dead.
As Scarley rose, Doris clung to him,
“I, too, with to tell what I know,” she
cried in a tremulous voice. *“I saw
nim nere.”
(To Be Cont'nued Tomerrow,)
Nights With Uncle Remus
LXlX—Brother i“ox’s Fish-Trap :
, By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS. &
’ HE little boy wanted Uncle
T Remus to sing some monre;
but before the old man could
efther consent or refuse, the notes of
a horn were heard in the dlt;t.auce.T
Uncle Remus lifted his hand to com
mand silence, and bent his head in
an_ attitude of attention.
“Des listen at dat!” he exclaimed,
with some show of indignation. “Dat
ain’t nothin’ in de roun’ worl’ but ole
man: Plato wid dat tin hawn er his'n,
en I boun’ you he's a-drivin’ de six
mule waggin, en de waggin full er
niggers sum de River place, en let
‘lone dat, I boun’ you deyer niggers
strung out behime de waggin for
mo'n a mile, en deyer all er comin’
fer ter eat us all out'n house en
home, des 'kaze dey year folks say
Chris-mus mos’ yer. Hit's mighty
kuse unter me dat ole man Plato
ain’t done toot dat hawn full er holes
[long 'fo’ dis.
“Yit I ain’t blamin’ um, ” Uncle
Remus went out, with a sigh, after a
little pause. “Dem ar niggers bin
livin’ 'way off dar on de River place
whar dey ain't no w'ite folks twel
dey er done in about run'd wil’. I
ain’t a -blamin’ um, dat I ain’t.”
Plato's horn—a long tin bugle—
was by no means unmusical. Its
range was limited, but in Plato's
hands its few notes were both power
ful and sweet. Presently the wagon
arrived, and a for a few minutes all
was confusion, the negroes on the
Home place running to greet the
newcomers, who were mostly their
relatives. A stranger hearing the
shouts and outcreis of these people
would have been at a loss to account
for the commotion.
Even Uncle Remus went to his
cabin door, and, with the little boy
by his side, looked out upon the
scene—a tumult it up by torches of
resinous pine. The old man and the
child were recognized, and for a few
moments the air was filled with cries
of—
“ Howdy, Unk Remus! Howdy,
little Marster!”
After a while Uncle Remus closed
his door, laid away his tools, and
drew his chair in front of the wide
hearth. The child went and stood
beside him, leaning his head against
the old negro's shoulder, and the
two—old age and youth, one living
in the Past and the other looking
‘forwnrd only to the Future—gazed
into the bed of glowing embers illud
minated by a thin, flickering flame.
‘Probably they saw nothing there,
‘each being busy with his own sim
ple thoughts; but their shadows, en
larged out of all proportion, and
looking over their shoulders from
the wall behind them, must have
seen something, for, clinging to
gether, they kept up a most inces
sant pantomime; and Flato’'s horn,
which sounded again, to call the
negroes to supper after their jour
ney, though it aroused Uncle Remus
and the child from the contemplation
of the fire, had no perceptible effect
upon the Shadows.
“Dar go de vittles!” said Uncle
Remus, straightening himself, “Dey
tells me dat dem ar niggers on de
River place got appetitite same ez a
mule. Let 'lone de vittles wa't dey
gits from Mars John, dey eats oodles
en oodles er fish. Ole man Plato say
dat de nigger on de River place w’at
ain’t got a fish-baskit in de river er
some intruss (1) in a fishtrap ain’t
no 'count w’atsomever.”
Here Uncle Remus suddenly
slapped himself upon the leg, and
laughted uproariously; and when the
little boy asked him what the matter
was, he cried out:
“Well, sir! Es I ain’t de fergitten
est ole nigger twix’ dis en Phillimer
delphy! Yer 't is mos’ Chris'mus en
I ain't tell you 'bout how Brer Rabbit
do Brer Fox w’ence dey bofe un um
live on de river. I dunner w'at de
name er sense gitten’ de marter 'long
wid me.”
Of course the little boy wanted to
know all about it, and Uncle Remus
proceeded:
“One time Brer Fox en Brer Rab
bit live on de river. Atter dey bin
livin’ dar so long a time, Brer Fox
'low dat he got a mighty hankerin’
atter sump’n’ ’sides fresh meat, en he
say he b'leeve he make 'im a fish
trap. Brer Rabbit say he wish Brer
Fox mighty well, but he ain't honin’
atter fish hisse'f, en es he is he ain’t
got no time fer ter make no fish
trap.
“No marter fer dat, Brer Fox, he
tuck’'n got 'im out some tfmber, he
did, en he wuk nights fer. ter make
dat trap. Den w'en he git i.t done, he
tuck’'n hunt 'im a good place for_tg}"
set it, end e way he sweat over dat
ar trap wuz a sin—dat "t wuz. =
“Yit atter so long a time, he got
‘er sot, en den he tuck’n wash he
face en han's en go home. All de
time he ’uz fixin’ un it up, Brer Rab
bit 'uz settin’ on de bank watchin®
im. He sot dar, he did, en play ia
de water, en cut switches fer ter
w'ip at de snake-doctors (2), en all
dat time Brer Fox, he pull en hlfi
en tote rocks fer ter hol’ dat trap
endurin’ a freshet. o)
“Brer Fox went home en res’ hp
se'f, en bimeby he go down fer ter
see es dey any fish in he trap. He
sorter fear'n er snakes, but he t&‘l
'roun’ an’ he feel 'roun’, yit he ain'g
feel no fish. Den he go off. B
“Bimeby, "long todes de las’ er Q
week, he go down en feel ‘roun’ 's‘m.
yit he ain’t feel no fish. Hit keep on
dis a-way twel Brer Fox git sorter
fag out. He go en he feel, but dg
ain’t no fish dar. Atter w'ile, one
day, he see de signs whar somebog'
bin robbin’ he trap, en he 'low ter
hisse’t dat he’ll des in ’bout watch
en fine out who de somebody {s.
“Den he tuck'n got in he boat.en
paddle und’ de bushes on de’bas
en watch he fishtrap. He watch
@e mornin’; nobody ain’t come. *
watch all endurin’ er atter dinner;
]nobody ain’t come. 'Long todes nllh@,
night, w'en he des 'bout makin’ ready
|rer ter paddle off home, he year tgfi
on t'er side de river, en lo en beholes,
yer come Brer Rabbit polin’ a boat
todes Brer Fox fishtrap.
“Look lak he dunner how to use a
paddle, en he des had 'lm a long
pole, en he'd stan’ up in de belgtqp
part er he boat, en put de een’ etpp
pole 'gin’ de bottom, en shove ‘er
right ahead. i
Brer Fox git mighty mad w'en he
see dis, but he watch en wait. He
'low ter hisse’'f, he did, dat he kin
paddle a boat pearter dan anybos
kin pole um’ en he say he sholly
gwine ketch Brer Rabbit dis time,
“Brer Rabbit pole up ter de fish
trap, en feel 'roun’ en pull out a great
big mud-cat; den he retch in en pfll
out 'n’er big mud-cat; den he pull out
a big blue cat, en it keep on dis
a-way twel he git de finest mess er
fish you mos’ ever laid yo’ eyes on. '
“Des "bout dat time, Brer Fox pad
dle out sum und’ de bushes, en makes
todes Brer Rabbit, en he hollers ong:‘
“‘Ah-yi! Youer de man w'at bim
robbin’ my fishtrap dis long time! I
got you dis time! Oh, you nee’nfer
try ter run! I got you dis time sho’!®
“No sooned said dan no . sooner
done. Brer Rabbit fling he fish in he
boat en grab up de pole en push off,
en he -had mo’ fun gittin’ 'way sum
dar dan he y'ever had befo’ in all he |
born days put terge'er.” ‘
“Why didn’t Brer Fox catch him,
Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy,
“Shoo! Honey, you sho’ly done loss
yo’ min’ 'bou Brer Rabbit.”
“Well, I don’t see how he could get
away.” ‘
1 “lif you'd er bin dar you'd er seed
it, dat you would. Brer Fox, he wuz
dar, en he seed it. en Brer Rabbit, be
seed it, en e'en down ter ole Brer
Bullfrog a-sttin’ on de bank, he seed
it. Now, den,” continued Uncle Re
mus, spreading out the palm of hh
left hand like a map and pointing at
it with the forefinger of his right,
“w'en Brer Rabbit pole he boat, he
bleedz ter set in de behime een’ em
w'en Brer Fox paddle he boat, ke
bledz ter set in de behime een’. Dat
bein’' de state er de condition, hgp
Brer Fox gwine ketch 'im? I ain’t
'sputin’ but w'at he kin paddie
pearter dan Brer Rabbit, but de long
en de shorts un it is, de pearter Brer
Fox paddle de pearter Brer Rabbit
go.”
The little boy looked puzzled.
“Well, I don’t see how,” he ex+
claimed. 5
“Well, sir!” continued Uncle Re
mus, “w’en de nose er Brer Fox m
git close ter Brer Rabbit boat all
Brer Rabbit got ter do in de roum®
worl’ is ter take he pole en put it 'gm®
Brer Fox boat en push hlsse’.t‘ont*
way. De harder he push Brer M
boat back, de pearter he push he own
boat forrerd. Hit look mighty easy
ter ole Brer Bullfrog settin’ on de
bank, en all Brer Fox kin do h%
shake he fist en grit he toof, w'iles
Brer Rabbit sail off wid de fish.”
(1) Interest. L
(2) Dragonfiies. - _Q;
(Copyright, 1881, 1883, 1909 and 1981,
by The Century Company; 1883, By |
Joel Chandler Harris: 1911, by Esth i
La Rose Harris. ALL RIGHTS Rl
SERVED. Printed by permission off
and by special arrangement
Houghton Mifflin Company.) -"1
Tomorrow—Brother Rabbit Ress
cues Brother Terrapin. |