I have stayed at the Rudder Grange Just after the wedding chime, Though that jolliest lodge--how strange!-- Is of age at this very time; I have roamed in the Squirrel Inn (With my vouchers from Germantown); To the House of Martha I've been, And more than once have gone down In the queerest of all queer wrecks, And have argued and taken my tea With Mesdames Aleshine and Lecks, All up to our necks in the sea; I have solved, with my private elf, That Lady-and-Tiger riddle That routed the Sphinx herself And parted the world in the middle; And all this fellowship jolly, With a wizard that led me around Through wonder and sweetest folly, From first to last I have found His fancy more passing rare Than that of mask or mummer Since Puck and Oberon wove the snare In a night's dream of midsummer; So I'll roam with him and his throng, Wherever the course meander, Though he frolic a century long. And outlive by a year the sage vizier Of the Two-Horned Alexander. [Illustration: JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.] JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS In an article published by _The Bookman_ not very long ago Mr. James Lane Allen remarked that Uncle Remus was one of the two names in American fiction which have attained anything like universality of acceptance, the other name being, of course, Uncle Tom. And yet fame was thrust upon Mr. Joel Chandler Harris. It happened in this wise. Mr. Harris went to work for the _Atlanta Constitution_ as an editorial writer in 1876, succeeding Mr. Samuel W. Small, who has since prefixed to his name the title of Reverend. Mr. Small had made a success with sketches dealing with a character called Uncle Si, and Capt. Evan P. Howell, the editor of the _Constitution_, desired to have the success maintained in some form. So he approached Mr. Harris with the suggestion that he should try his hand at negro sketches. The young writer was diffident. He pleaded inexperience, incapability; but Captain Howell wouldn't listen to the excuses. In a good-natured way he pursued his associate, requesting, begging, entreating, encouraging. If Mr. Harris would only put into black-and-white those plantation stories with which he was accustomed to entertain the staff! If he would only get his courage up! Finally, the young man yielded and put some of the memories of his boyhood in Putnam County, Georgia, into the mouth of a negro named Uncle Remus. Uncle Remus he has been ever since the publication of the first sketch--Uncle Remus, famous and beloved throughout the land. Captain Howell is said to have gone to the editors' room the morning of the first appearance of Uncle Remus and shouted: "Well, Harris, you're a trump! If you just keep up that lick your fortune is made. Everybody is talking about Uncle Remus, so give us another story." It was given willingly.