a IBRI.S HERBERT1-NICHOL: University of California Berkeley Jack Fleming collection of African Americana OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, AND OTHER. SORCERERS. VOODOO TALES AS TOLD AMONG THE NEGROES OF THE SOUTHWEST COLLECTED FROM ORIGINAL SOURCES BY MARY ALICIA OWEN INTRODUCTION BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND ILLUSTRATED BY JULIETTE A. OWEN AND LOUIS WAIN G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK LONDON WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND <&|u Knickerbocker Press 1893 COPYRIGHT, 1893 BY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS INTRODUCTION. As leaves are seldom gathered till they change colour and begin to fall, nor made into bouquets and wreaths till brilliant colours begin to show themselves in their dying beauties ; so, all the world over, folk-lore stories are but little noticed by the cultured world until they begin to assume romantic lines of association, nor are they gathered till they have fallen, so to speak, from the lofty trees of religion, and lie on the ground, or are driven about by the playful wind, as mere legends or nursery tales. It is in this state when " prettiest " but unfortunately driest that the relics of tradi- tion are most admired by children or the general reader ; and there are indeed too many folk-lorists who care to go no further. This very remarkable collection by Miss Mary A. Owen takes us more deeply than those which are made on the Grimm principle of " pleasing tales for the nursery " back to the fresh green and growing leaves. It is indeed entertaining and amusing, but nothing has in it been sacrificed to the latter element, nor are the narrators of the tales in it made of more real importance than the subject. This subject is as curious as it is entirely novel. There is in Missouri, as " all along the Border," a mixed race of Negro and Indian descent, who have vi INTRODUCTION. inherited a vast stock of the traditions of both races, and combined or blended them strangely into new life. As there is in them, however, a very great predominance of red Indian, we get therefore a clue as to the mysterious origin of American negro tales. The stories, in fact, all agree almost to identity with those found in the collections of Schoolcraft, Kohl, and many others. But in the vast amount of sorcery, magic, medi- cine, and fetishes recorded, we find the African Voodoo ideas very strangely mixed with the Indian. Here, by the way, the term " Indian " may be used to indicate the Aryan, for it is one of the most extraordinary coincidences known, that the American, or Hindu, hold and carry out to an extraordinary identity the doctrine of acquiring magic power by means of penance. The real or inner nature of Vovdooism is as yet almost un- known, even to the learned ; and I am glad that Miss Owen, who has been initiated sufficiently into its mysteries to divine and grasp its full scope and nature, has carefully recorded, and will at some time publish, her very extensive knowledge of the subject. Unlike the Aryan and Red Indian magic based on fasting, contemplation, and " prayer," it relies on daring that which is horrible and repulsive, and, above all, in a perfectly subjective iron will. It also acts greatly by the terror or in- fluence inspired by the conjuror himself. And its cures and means are fouler and far more revolting than those of Indian " medicine." Guided by these simple hints, the reader will understand and detect for himself the predominant elements of the folk-lore in these tales. And doing this he cannot fail to observe that there is in this collection, and on almost every page, items of true folk-lore, earnest, clear, and well-defined, while, at the same time, ancient, mysterious, and strange. I have been tempted at almost every passage to step in with footnote observations as, for instance, that while it might very well be mere chance coincidence that V/oodpecker was a red- INTRODUCTION. vii capped dwarf magician in ancient Italy, and a red dwarf sorcerer among the Negro-Indians, this by no means explains the other numerous coincidences between the tales told of the dwarfs, which are manifestly of the woodpecker stock, in Europe and America. I mention this because Miss Owen's contributions to the folk-lore of the Woodpecker, who is the most ancient and important of all fairies, are very valuable and original. The superstitions as regards informing the bees of a death, and much more relating to them, are identical with Norse beliefs, but are expressed most clearly and fully in the Finnic Kalevala ; * of which work I may here be allowed to say that I have seldom been more gratified by any contribution to the literature of translation than by the admirable version of Marion Crawford, which has given to Anglo-American literature some- thing which has long been wanting. The Finnic traditions bear to the Norse, in a great measure, the same relation as the Indian to these Missouri transmissions, and the Norse, in all probability, to the Algonkin. But whether all such lore be " tradited," or due to the action of like cause and like effect, it is equally clear to me that in the immense collection, pub- lished or unpublished, made by Mary A. Owen, and derived directly from true believers, we have a vast amount of material for discussion. It is this which must be chiefly borne in mind in reading this book, and not the mere form in which it has b$en cast. The fact that this work bears the title of " Rabbit, the Voodoo," and that in it old women communicate to a white child their stories, will naturally suggest an imitation of " Brer Rabbit," while in reality it deals with altogether different material. The mere general reader, for amusement, may judge of the book by this coincidence, but no folk-lorist can 1 I commend to every folk-lorist, as the most exhaustive and valuable com- mentary on this subject, "II Kalevala o la Poesia traditionale dei Finni" (Rome, 1891), by the Senator Domenico Comparetti. viii INTRODUCTION. fail to perceive its true value. It is in this inner or true cha- racter that the value of this really remarkable work consists. As regards novelty and originality of subject, it ranks among the most important contributions to Folk-lore. Mary A. Owen was not only born and brought up, as her writings indicate, among the most " superstitious," race con- ceivable, but had from infancy an intense desire, aided by a marvellous memory, to collect and remember all that she learned. In reading her letters I have often been reminded of the title of an imaginary work called " Travels among the Savages, by one of their Chiefs/' In all my experience I never met with but one person so perfectly at home in the subject, and that was a full-blood Passamaquoddy Indian, who had, under some strange inspiration, collected all the folk-lore, even on the most trifling subjects, of his tribe. As regards the inexhaustible extent of her acquisitions, I may mention that in the letters which I have received from Miss Owen there is perhaps as much traditional lore of the most interesting and valuable description as would make another volume as large as this, which has not been given in it. It was sent to me under the impression that I might find it of some use. And here I may remark that the writer had no idea of publishing anything on the subject till I suggested it. Though I have injustice exalted the subject-matter of this very valuable and curious book above the form, I cannot refrain from declaring that the latter has decided merits. The separate cha- racters of the old Aunties, who tell the tales in it, are admirably described and clearly presented. The "real old Guinea nigger," who had been a slave, was not unknown to me in my boyhood, and I well remember one who was more than a hundred years old, who could speak only Dutch and African. That she had long passed a century, and had really seen General Washington was proved by a well-educated lady, eighty-four years of age, who could remember the old negress from her own earliest INTRODUCTION. ix infancy. The triangular character, Miss Boogarry, who is equally Indian, Missouri-French, and Negro, shows her grim yet childish nature with its strange mixture of Catholicism and heathenism in every sentence 'which she utters. The author shows tact and truth in translating her difficult dialect into plain English. Apropos of which I would remark that while American readers will readily understand the Negro-English of this book, though it differs greatly from that of other parts of the United States, this may not be the case in England, and I have there- fore taken the liberty of giving in parentheses and in plain English the correct form of many words which otherwise have been, though perhaps only for a moment, unintelligible. That the dialect is really correctly given, is shown by the consis- tency of the spelling. But as it is as natural to the author as Platt Deutsch to a Hamburger, or native of Bremen, its correct- ness can hardly be questioned. When the paper by Miss Owen on Missouri-Negro traditions was read before the Folk-Lore Congress in 1891, it received the great honour of a distinguishing complimentary notice in an editorial article in the London Times. Upon which she modestly expressed to me the hope that her forthcoming book would show that she deserved it. Much allowance should always be made for a first work by a young writer ; I can only add that I sincerely trust that the readers of this volume will kindly admit that the author has shown herself worthy of the very favourable impression caused by her first appearance in England. CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. CONTENTS. CHAP. FAGB I. THE BEE-KING AND THE AUNTIES . . .1 II. CONCERNING A GOOSE, A BLUEBIRD, AND OTHER FOWLS OF THE AIR . . . . 28 III. BILLS OF FARE THE CROWS LITTLE DOVE'S SON 39 IV. MORE ABOUT WOODPECKER . . . -52 V. THE "FUSS " BETWEEN WOODPECKER AND BLUE JAY 59 VI. HOW WOODPECKER MADE A BAT J ALSO SOME OTHER FACTS OF NATURAL HISTORY NOT GENERALLY KNOWN . . . . 70 VII. WOODPECKER AND GREY WOLF WOODPECKER, THE HUNTER, AND DOG HOW REDBIRD CAME BY HIS BRILLIANT PLUMAGE . . . - 79 VIII. HOW WOODPECKER TOOK A BOY TO RAISE AND WAS DISGUSTED WITH THE JOB. ALSO, HOW HE SET OUT TO CHARM GRANDFATHER RATTLESNAKE, TOGETHER WITH A HISTORY OF HIS NECKLACE OF BEARS' CLAWS, AND AN ACCOUNT OF HIS ATTEMPT TO DESTROY RABBIT'S CUNJER-BAG . . IO2 xii CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE IX. SOME TALES IN WHICH BLUE JAY AND HIS " GWINES- ON " FIGURE CONSPICUOUSLY . . . I2C X. " OLE RABBIT AN' DE DAWG HE STOLE " HOW HE OBTAINED GOPHER'S WINTER SUPPLIES . 138 XI. FOX TALES . . . . . ^59 XII. LUCK-BALLS . . . . . 169 XIII. HOW THE SKUNK BECAME THE TERROR OF ALL LIVING CREATURES A SHORT CHAPTER FUR- NISHED BY BIG ANGY . . . .190 XIV. MORE RABBIT TALES . . . .193 xv. "BUGS" ...... 209 XVI. SNAKE STORIES . . . . . 223 XVII. MORE SNAKES ..... 239 XVIII. " JACKY-ME-LANTUHNS " SOMETIMES CALLED " WUL- LER-WUPS " ALSO u PAINTERS " AND THEIR VICTIMS . . - . . 272 XIX. THE LAST GLEANING OF THE FIELD . .29! LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. THE BEE-KING ,..* " SHE COULD TELL WHEN TO WEAN A CALF " . . 2 GRANNY MOVING IN S'CIETY . . . -3 GRANNY TENDING TO BIZNESS .... 4 THE AUNTIES AND TOW HEAD . . . .7 "HE RUN LAK DE OLE BOY HISSE'F " . . . 25 BIG DEBBIL . $8 "DEN OLD WOODPECKER FIX THAT LAIG UP GOOD" . 55 WOODPECKER'S TREE . . . . . 56 OLE BLUE JAY LAID OUT .... 65 WOODPECKER MAKING BIRDS . . . 7 2 OLE WOODPECKEH, MOUSE, AND NIGHT-HAWK . . 73 MOUSE HAWK ...... 74 AUNT EM'LY J ..... 80 " OLE MISS WOODPECKEH SHE BIN 'BLEEGED TER KYAR HE VITTLES IN TER 'iM . . . . .84 THE HUNTER AND THE LITTLE RED MAN . . 85 xiv LIST OF ILLUS7RA TIONS. PAGE "WITH THAT HE WALKED OFF TO THE OTHER DOGS, WHO RECEIVED HIM WITH SNIFFS AND YELPS OF DERISION " 86 "A GREAT WOODPECKER ROSE FROM THE GRASS " . 89 DE BUHDS ...... 100 OLE RABBIT . . . . . . IO2 "WOODPECKER TOOK A BOY TO RAISE AND WAS DIS- GUSTED WITH THE JOB". . . . 103 OLE WOODPECKER PULL OUT DE TUSH . . .Ill PERARA-CHICKEN TEACH DAT OLE FOOL B*AR . . 112 " MISS MAWKIN'-BUHD ROCK HUHSE'F BACKUDHS AN' FORRUDS AN' GIGGLE" . . . .123 "HE DES SWEETIN DE FRESH AIR EZ DEY GO 'LONG" 125 "OLE JAY, HE DES TUHN HE BACK ON SQUIRR'L AN CUST" . . . . . . 129 THE RABBIT FAMILY . . . . .138 RABBIT TEK DAT TOLLER-DIP IN HIS HAN* . . 140 "DIS HYEAH TURR'BLE HURRY S'PRISE HIM so" . . 143 OLE RABBIT REFLECTS. . . . . 151 OLE RABBIT AND MISTEH GOPHEH . . . .152 THE RABBIT FAMILY . . . . . 155 OLE RABBIT AND HIS WIFE. . . . .156 THE KING OF THE VOODOOS . . . . 172 "DAR wuz DE DEBBIL'S OLE OOMAN" . . .181 "HE SLIP DE FAWK UNNEAT HIT! NOW 'E GOT UM 1 " 185 BLACK WOLF BEHAVES LIKE A SKUNK . . 191 SKUNK ....... 192 "DEN DEY SHET UP AN' WATCH 'IM, W'ILES 'E LOOK ON DE GROUN' AN WUHK HE MINE" . . 197 LIST OF ILL USTRA T"1ONS. xv PAGE "BIMEBY, DE WALKIN'-CANE HUHT DEM BIG JAWS" . 201 "OLE SUN 'E GIT THU 'E TRABBLIN' AN' RUN HIDE." "CRY ONE GRV BIG TEAH ONTER DAT ARRER " . 205 "AN' A-RIDIN' ON DE LIGHTNIN', WUT YO' RECK'N KIM DOWN WID DE RAIN?" . . .215 " AN' DEN SHE TUCK DE CHU'N AN' PO' OUT DE WHOLE MESS ON DE YEATH" .... 220 THE CABIN . . . . . .223 LIL BOY AND THE SNAKES . . . . 228 SNAKE AND .OWL ...... 239 "SHE SCREAMED WITH FRIGHT AT SIGHT OF HIM, HE WITH JOY AT SIGHT OF HER " . . . 243 "THIS OWL WAS A VERY GREAT WITCH" . . .. 262 "SHE PULLED HIS BILL TILL IT WAS LONG * . 263 THE JACKY-ME-LANTUHNS . . . . .272 "HE SEE DE LANTUHN PLAIN'' . . . 275 DE PAINTEH ...... 286 " OLE MISS WIDDEH-B'AR, SHE TUK ER COLE FUM A-GITTIN* ER FOOTSES WET W'fiN SHE WAS OUT A-FISHIN* " 293 "OLE BEE-KING HE TUCK AN 1 TUCK ER BIG STRAW " . 296 DE PELICANS ...... 299 HE SHOT THE SNAKE ..... 302 HE CAUGHT HER BY HER LONG FLOWING HAIR . 306 I. THE BEE-KING AND THE AUNTIES. WAS not a convention of witches, though it bore the outward seeming of one ; it was Aunt Jinny's " company," and a " good time " the guests were having, too. Aunt Jinny, or as her intimates called her, " Granny," sat in the middle of the semicircle drawn round the great fireplace THE BEE-KING. ablaze with the conflagration of a quarter of a cord of hickory logs, and felt herself as important a mistress of the situation, there in her cabin, as any queen could in her palace of carved stone. A great authority in her way was Granny. She knew the value of every herb and simple to be found in the state ; she was an adept in the healing art ; she could " set " hens so that they never lost an egg ; she could out- general the shyest turkey that ever " stole its nest " in the weeds and brush ; she could tell when to wean a calf or baby and when to plant " craps " by the age and position of the moon ; she could " lay out " the dead and usher in the living ; she could interpret dreams ; she knew the " sign " of every- thing from the spilling of salt to the flight of birds ; she had seen ghosts and withstood devils ; she knew legends and tales without number ; she could, as actively as a girl, " pat Juba " OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, "SHE COULD TELL WHEN TO WEAN A CALF." AND OTHER SORCERERS. 3 and u jump Jim Crow" ; and, last and most important, she was, to quote her own words, " bornded at Culpepper Court- house in Ole Feginny an' hed seen Gin'al Washington wid my own eyes." " An' I ain't no common ole nigger," she would add, not boastfully, but with the calm assurance of one born to high estate, " I mos'ly ain't no nigger 'tall. Ise come down fum dem Lenny-Lennype Injuns dat hilt de kyentry (country) 'fo' de w'ite folks come dar ; an' I wuz sold wunst an' fetched er heap o' money an' I would ergain, Ise bound, dough I'se mo'n er GRANNY MOVING IN s'CIETY. hunderd yeahs ole. 'Deed I would, kase Ise spry. Hit's only shif 'less critturs dat's cheap fum de start dat wears out 'arly." Her claims to aristocracy were always acknowledged by her associates. She had been bond and now was free, and they agreed with her in thinking that all the past glories and dignities of her former owners, "the folks up at The House " a few rods away, were centred and kept alive in her own proper person. Her lineage, too, was believed in without a demur. She was accepted as a child of the Werowances, although her 4 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, abundant grey wool was of the woolliest ; no broader, flatter nose was ever seen ; no pure-blooded African ever had thicker lips with a more decided curl outward. As to costume, Granny's tastes were evidently simple. Although she was supposed to have a fortune in second-hand finery laid away in GRANNY TENDING TO BIZNESS. the various trunks and boxes beside and under her bed, she was " saving o' gear." Only Fourth-of-July, Christmas, circus-day, or camp-meeting ever brought out the splendours of be-flounced and be-ribboned gowns, or any one of the two or three dozen bonnets of all ages, shapes, and sizes that snugly reposed in her AND OTHER SORCERERS. 5 biggest " big chist." Ordinarily, she appeared, as on this evening, in a short costume of faded blue-and-brown cotton, a Madras turban very much awry, and a pair of men's boots much the worse for wear. Whene'er she took her walks abroad not to see the poor, for she despised human " trash," but to hunt eggs she donned a man's chimney-pot hat. " Yis," she would explain to impertinent questioners, " I w'ars ole master's boots an' hats. Wut's good 'nufF foh him is good 'nufffoh me, an' ef yo' don't lak (like) hit, yo' kin lump hit an' look t'urr (the other) way." As Granny always carried a stout hickory staff, and had a nervous motion of her right arm when answering superfluous questions, if her auditors " lumped " her raiment they were usually discreet enough to do it in secret. On Granny's right hand was a woman fully as dark as she, but the darkness was of a different sort altogether. Granny, good old soul ! looked with her century of gathered wrinkles as if she had been carelessly covered with coffee-coloured crape, while the other was of the brown of old leather burned by the sun and dried by the winds ; a tall, strong, gaunt, fierce-looking woman of eight-and-forty she was, with the nose of an eagle, the eye of a hawk, the rnouth of a cat, and hair like the tail of a black horse. This was Madame Angelique Bougareau, generally spoken to as " Mrs. Boogarry," spoken of as " Big Angy." Big Angy sat before the blaze, scowling, and knitting at a red mitten as savagely as if the insensate body of yarn had done her a personal injury. Perhaps some one had ordered mittens or socks and then ignored the order ; perhaps she had allowed an insolvent customer to get possession of a great share of her precious " garden-truck " ; perhaps an impertinent housewife had dared to affirm that her soap wouldn't " suds " or her brooms shed straws for Big Angy was a dealer in some of the luxuries as well as the necessaries of life, and was also the primitive type of that product of a supposedly very modern business method, the commercial traveller. She owned a little 6 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, brown house set in the midst of an acre of good, rich soil, better even than the average black loam of North-west Missouri. On that acre she raised pretty nearly everything good for man and beast, and, at the same time, illustrated the freedom and lack of caste in frontier civilisation. " Touch- me-nots," " unprofitably gay," were not more prominently in view of the passer-by than the cabbages ; the beets were as honoured as the " four-o'-clocks " ; the onions were in bed with the pinks, the marigolds with the radishes, the larkspurs with the lettuce ; the garlic was cheek-by-jowl with the delicate musk-roses, and the prince's-feather and the broom- corn nodded their tall heads together. Everything was as good as everything else, and a pretty show the collection made too, from the time the first parsley and crocus appeared through the melting snow till the last dahlia and tomato were gathered. When its season of growth and fruitage was over and all things not plucked and garnered were shrouded in straw, old coffee- bags, and cast-off garments, Angy's weekly rounds from house did not cease. Instead of the flowers that bloomed to fade, stiff bunches of " bachelor's buttons," " everlastings," and bittersweet-berries peeped from under her great basket's-lid, and the place of the vegetables was taken by bars of " hard," and gourds of " soft " soap (Granny had taught her the art of civilisation known to them both as " soap-bilhV "), hearth- brooms, socks, mittens, grated horse-radish, and little jars of a villainous sweet compound of pumpkin stewed with water- melon-juice and known to all as " punkin-butter." She drove good bargains as a rule, and might have been a person of independent means if she had not allowed her worthless little Creole French husband, "Lame Joe," to gamble away the greater part of her earnings. When advised against yielding to this amiable weakness, she defended herself by saying, " Me daddy was gret French hunter, me mammy was chile ter de big chief de lowas. Dey not putt by lak de squir'l in de AND OTHER SORCERERS, THE AUNTIES AND TOW HEAD. 8 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, hole, w'y me do so ? " " Des (just) please yo'se'f 'bout dat," Granny would make answer, with offended dignity. " Ef yo' lak (like) dat Joe drink up all dat hahd wuhk (hard work), let *im drink um, dat's all ! but ef enny ob my ole mans (husbands) wuz a-libben, I boun' yo' see sumpin diffint ! " " Me hab save alway some silba piece foh de mass," Big Angy would say, half in apology. Granny considered that as great a waste of good money as making a banker of Joe, but she was too discreet to challenge religious prejudices of which Big Angy had many ; her faith, indeed, being of as many hues as Joseph's coat, as was evinced by her keeping her medicine-pipe and eagle-bone whistle along with her missal and " Key to Heaven " ; by carrying a rabbit's-foot and rosary in the same pocket, by wearing a saint's toe dangling on her bosom and the fetich known as a " luck-ball " under her right arm. On Granny's left, sat Aunt Em'ly, a woman about Big Angy's age and stature, but of a different avoirdupoise and temper. Her jolly soul was enveloped in billows of fat, and her round eyes looked on the world with childlike content, in spite of her hard labours, day in and day out, at the washtub, the merciless scoldings she received from her rheumatic old husband, and the various tribulations brought upon her by her worthless sons. Like Angy, she was a half-breed, as her high cheek-bones and shiny black ringlets falling to her shoulders proved beyond dispute ; but she was of another class altogether, her mother having been a negress and her father a Fox Indian. Nearly every night, after her labours were done, she trudged the two miles between cabins to visit Granny and smoke her tobacco, and talk of the good old times, the like of which they should never see again those times when the thriving city, growing so rapidly towards their country cabins, had been only a cluster of shanties on the banks of the Missouri, and had not encroached on the virgin forest, alive with mysterious whisperings and strange wild songs, nor on the grassy plains swept into waves AND OTHER SORCERERS. 9 like the sea's by the winds, and jewelled as the sea never was by an unreckoned multitude of wild flowers. Ah ! those were good old times, when the forest meant more to the human intelligence than its price in cordwood and lumber, and there was another valuation to the plain besides its capacity for raising hay. Each had its voice and its story, in the good old times, when the heart of Mother Nature beat in unison with her children's, and she did not in the depths of her scarred bosom and sapped arteries feel herself a Lear despised of the children she had enriched. The good old times ! the good old times ! others besides Aunt Em'ly look back on them with regret and longing. On her knees, close to the fire, knelt Aunt Mary, an oily, dark woman of forty, of middle height, well proportioned and strong. Like all the other women, except Granny, she wore a calico frock of a dark-blue ground sprinkled with white stars. On her head was a snowy turban, but, white as it was, it was no whiter than her great eyeballs and polished teeth. She looked the typical darkey, but was accustomed to assert that she was " some Injun," " thes how it corned in " she did not know, but was sure of it, nevertheless. She was the cook of " The House," slept in the cabin with Granny, and was assis- tant, not associate, hostess. According to her own account, she was " bornded in Tennissee, but mos'ly brung up in Mizzury." In both states she had had some ghostly visitors and serious encounters with his Satanic majesty, but, while her experiences were usually considered as doing pretty well for one of her age and opportunities, they were accounted trivial in comparison with those of her friends. Her occupation, which necessitated her lowly and devout posture, was the roasting of eggs by tying strings round their middles and dangling them before the fire, a delicate feat in which many failed, but she was an adept. She never let an egg fall, nor lost its " meat " by an untimely explosion, but years of uninterrupted success never palled her enjoyment. io OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, Each egg, as it had a neat little hole pecked in its side and was girdled by a twine loop, received the rapturous grin accorded to its predecessor. Opposite Aunt Mary, and half in shadow, was a little, bent woman more important even than Granny. Nobody knew or could guess her age. As for her looks, they are best described as a recent acquaintance once spoke of a celebrated literary lady " Plain ? she'd be better looking if she were plain ! " The little woman was Aunt Mymee, the only pure-blooded African in the room, and, oddly enough, the only copper-coloured person present. Aunt Mymee was the child of a Guinea sorceress who had fled on board a slaver to escape death at the hands of her countrymen. Like mother, like daughter Mymee was a great u cunjerer," and would fain have had her acquaintances believe she had the devil for a father. She was treated with great respect, tempered with a hypocritical cordiality, by her neighbours of colour, and was a valued servant of the whites, owing to her skill and tenderness in the manage- ment of children. In her lap at that moment was a tow-headed white young girl who followed her about like a shadow, and was supposed by the aunties to be "charmed." The influence at that particular time seemed to be reversed, for Tow Head was giving evidence of perverseness. Aunt Mymee was expostu- lating, coaxing, even threatening, in a low tone, all to no purpose. " I wo/zV," Tow Head at last said, decisively. " Grandma and Mamma know I am here, and they don't care. I'm not sleepy ; I won't go up to the house. If you fuss at me I'll break your pipe ; if you let me stay and hear the stories I'll buy you a head-handkerchief with my own money." There was nothing Aunt Mymee desired less than a " head- handkerchief," as she wore her hair (except on Sundays, when it was carded out in a great black fleece) in little wads the length and thickness of her finger, each wad being tightly AND OTHER SORCERERS. u wrapped with white cord. She scorned to conceal these efforts to " take de kink outen de wool," as did other ladies of colour with their kerchief-turbans, but as the proffer of the present she would not wear was accompanied by many vigorous hugs and pats, she weakly yielded to bribery and allowed her charge to remain. Granny looked at the two sadly. She knew a charmed child when she saw one, and was resolved to do what she could to relieve the unconscious victim. Oh ! she knew Aunt Mymee, and so did the others. Although they visited and received her in turn, although she had lived in the cabin a few rods from Granny's for years, not one of them ever went to bed at night without hanging up a horse-shoe and pair of wool-cards at the bed's head. Not one of them failed to pour a cup of mustard or turnip-seed on the doorstep and hearth, so that she would have to count all those seeds before she could go in at the door, or down the chimney to tie their hair into knots ; to twist the feathers in their beds into balls as solid as stone ; to pinch them with cramps and rheumatism ; to ride on their chests, holding by their thumbs as by a bridle, while she spit fire at them till cock-crow. Not one of them had any doubt as to her ability to jump out of her skin whenever she pleased, and take the form of owl, black dog, cat, wolf, horse, or cow. Not one of them merely suspected, she knew Mymee could appear in two places at once, ride a broomstick or a bat like a charger, and bring sickness and bad luck of all sorts on whomsoever she pleased. No wonder the aunties sighed in secret over the recklessness of white folks in turning such an uncanny body loose among the children. If Aunt Mymee knew what they thought she gave no sign ; for when not engaged in confidential discourse with Tow Head she smoked in silence. Perhaps she was thinking of the stalwart sons killed in the civil war ; perhaps of the Negro husband, the Mulatto husband, the Indian husband, and the virtues that made her take them, and the failings that made 12 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, her " turn 'em all loose " ; perhaps she was meditating some awful " trick," or magic curse. Whatsoever the thought was, she kept it locked in her own cunning brain. The child's caresses she received with secret delight at Granny's uneasiness and jealousy, but that light emotion made no ripple the eye could detect, she smoked on and on in seeming peacefulness and innocence. Big Angy broke the silence with a French oath, accom- panied by an angry gesture. She had snapped her clay pipe 'in twain, and as she flung the fragments among the blazing logs she anathematised it stem and bowl. Granny kindly made good the loss by taking from one of her many pockets a pipe made from a corn-cob, and fitted with a sugar-cane stem, which she handed her guest without a word. Big Angy received it with a grunt that might have meant thankfulness, put it in working order, and went on smoking. Granny watched her with great concern. " Ain' yo' sorter out o' sorts dis ebenin', Miss Boogarry ? " she inquired. " Yes, me is," answered Big Angy, in a dialect similar to her friend's, but garnished with patois and a few Indian gutterals. "Iseout o' sorts fum top to toe. Dem bees" she qualified them with an adjective not necessary to repeat " am 'stractin' me." "Wut dey done?" " Me dremp 'bout urn." " Dat er mighty good dream - ' Dream o' honey, lots o' money ; Dream o' bees, lib at yo' ease.' " " Na dishaway dat my dream go. Hit bin dat de bees wuz all daid, an' de hibe (hive) chock full o' mots (moths)." That was serious. All the aunties sighed in sympathy. " Dat am' all ne'er. Dey's mo' ahine. In de swa'min'-time AND OTHEfi SORCERERS. 13 dey run off, dey pay no 'tention at me. Hollerin' an' poundin' on de dish-pan ain' do no good. Off dey go ! " " An' yo' bees bin oncommon good twell (till) now ! I 'low yo' done mek un mad somehow or ur nurr," said Granny. " Dat's de truf," groaned Big Angy. "Wen my sister's darter die an' dey sent atter me, hit slip me mine dat I otter tell de bees an' putt mo'nin' (mourning) on de hibes. Dey bin mad hand-runnin' sence dat." " I ain't surprise none," said Aunt Em'ly, cheerfully. " Ef yo' don't tell de bees 'bout all de bornin's an' weddin's an' fun'als dey gwinter (going to) cl'ar out ur else sorter pindle (pine) an' die. How come dat I know dat, I done lost de lastest bee I got w'en my Jake merry Aunt Kate's big yaller Sally. Hit coined on me dat suddint dat hit ain' cross my mine dat I got er bee, twell I wuz a-settin at de table, an' Aunt Kate, she holler 'cross at me, will I gib de young folks de two fust swa'ms dat come off. I wuz dat skeered dat I mighty nigh cussed ! * De good Lawd ! ' sez me, an' drapped de vittles dat wuz on de way ter my mouf. ' De good Lawd, Aunt Kate ! I ain' tole dem bees dat Jake an' Sally wuz a-merryin' dis night ! ' Aunt Kate, she des fell back in 'er cheer lak someun hit 'er wid er dornick (stone). ' Well ! * says she, ' I 'low de young folks ain't gwine ter tire deyse'fs out, takin' keer o' all de bees yo' gwine ter hab fo' um.' An' dat wuz de troof too. I ain' got nair bee ter my name by de nex' spring. I bin puttin' my pennunce (dependence) in de honey dat I find in de woods sence dat. Dey ain't no use o' me a-trying ter raise bees." " Ef yo' steal some new hibes an' leabe de price in dey place, yo' kin raise some ergin (again)," said Mymee, oracularly. " Reckon I could ? " " Sholy. Hit's de finest kind o' luck ter steal bees an' de worsest in de world ter sell um, dough yo' kin fa'rly buy um widout crossin' de luck if yo' leabe de price on de bench whah yo' steal um fum." 14 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Honey ! " cried Aunt Mary, suddenly, as she critically examined an egg and seemed to be addressing it instead ot the company. " Honey is good ter eat an' good ter drink an' good ter wear." A chorus of laughter greeted her remark. " Dat's so," she insisted, stoutly, after joining in the laugh. " Hit's good ter eat, all um yo' knows dat. Hit's good ter drink ef yo' putt de hot wattah an' de spice wid hit w'en yo' got de sore th'oat, an' hit's good ter wear ef yo' got chap'd han's, ur ef yo' am 'fraid o' ghostes. W'y, I knowed er 'ooman dat did de milkin' foh er milkman, an' she hatter (had to) go home arter (after) milkin' through er big holler whah de ghostes wuz ez thick ez gnats in de summah-time. Fust time dat 'ooman go through dat holler, she skeered twell she kyarn' (cannot) squall. She tell't (told it to) witcher 'oomen. Witcher 'oomen say, ( rub mm head ter heel wid new honey, an 1 I boun' yo' don't see nuttin mo' not eben ef de moon am on de wane an' a-ridin' on 'er back up in de sky.' 'Oomen do dat, regler. See nuttin no mo' ; but, man suz ! her close (clothes), dey des (just) wuz er sight fum dat out, an' de flies, dey foller 'er round lak de little niggahs foller de sukkus-waggin (circus-waggon)." "It's good for something else," said Tow Head, sitting up. " It's good to per-oph-e-sy." " Wut dat ? " asked Granny, with a suspicious glance in Aunt Mymee's direction. " That's to know what's going to happen," explained Tow Head, importantly. " Mamma told me the big word for it, and I found out the rest from Aunt Mymee. Yes, I did, Aunt Mymee ! Don't you remember that time you coaxed me to get you some of Grandma's amaranth seeds and told me that amaranth seeds, honey, and whiskey made into a cake and eaten in the dark of the moon would make people know when things were going to happen ? " " I wuz des a-projecking (projecting experimenting) wid yo'," AND OTHER SORCERERS. 15 mumbled Aunt Mymee. " Des (just) keep still mungs dese niggahs an' I'll sing ter you, torectly." u But twasn't projecking," piped Tow Head, getting shriller and shriller with each word, " for I ate some when you were not looking, so as to see if Uncle John would bring me the doll he promised me, and I couldn't tell, but he came that very afternoon and he did have the doll. Before that he always forgot. Oh, yes ! and you made a love-cake too." " Dat chile gwine ter git pizoned, some day," said Granny, after an embarrassed pause, " ef she go dippin' an' projeckin hither an' yon', bedout axin' leabe o' dem dat's older." Aunt Mymee's eyes snapped. " I 'low," she remarked, with deliberate emphasis, " dat dem I got er intrest in ain't gwine ter drap off, suddint, ef 7'm dar." " Truf, truf, Aunt Mymee, ef yo' dar" Granny made haste to answer. " Hit wuz de times yo' wuzzent dar dat gimme de worrymint. Missey, she's a mighty free hand 'bout a-dippin' in an' " " Oh, stop fussing, Granny I and tell some stories. Tell a bee-king story," interrupted Tow Head. " Mamma scolds me all I need. You tell me a pretty story." " Yes, Aunt Jinny, tell my lil lamb er putty tale 'bout de ole bee-king," urged Aunt Mymee, sweetly. " Law, now ! my tales dey's sech ole tales," said Granny, modestly. " Ef yo' ax Aunt Em'ly now, ur Miss Boogarry, I lay (wager) dat yo' git er tale yo' kin putt by in yo' membunce (memory) medout a-grugin' de room hit tek up." A chorus of protests from the parties so honourably mentioned. " Well ! " said Granny, at length, " ef yo' sesso, I gwine ter mek de start, den de res' mus' foller wid dey tales. I fetch on de pone (maize bread), de res' fetch in de sweetnin'. Having thus poetically defined her rank, and at the same time paid her friends a compliment, Granny filled her mouth 16 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, with smoke, blew it out through her nostrils like an amiable dragon and began : " In de good ole times w'en de trees an' de beasts wuzn't feard ter talk foh fear o' bein' sot ter work, dey use ter be a heap o' spressifyin' (expressing opinions) in de woods. Special dat wuz de way mungst de bee-trees, 1 kase (because) dey wuz feelin' mighty sweet an' peart wid dey eensides all fill up wid honey in de comb. De trees wid honey in dey hollers wuz all sot up, lak chilluns (children) whut am got de sugah-tit in dey moufs, or sugah-plums in dey braid-bastets (bread baskets stomachs). Dat's de way dey wuz. Dey wuz thes (just) dat high in dey tops dat day mos' fegit dey use ter be nuttin but saplin's a-switchin' in de wind, an' atter dat ole holler logs twell de ole king ob de bees, he say unter de new swa'm dat came off, ' Git in dis tree ! ' Oh, yes ! de favounfoy o' de ole king, dey jounce dey limbs up an' down an' fluster dey leabes a heap, des de same ez fine ladies toss dey heads an' swish dey skyurts." " Oh, Granny ! what does the king look like ? Did you ever see him?" " Now ! Dat show yo' ain't ne'er seen 'im, an' dat suttinly am a shame, kase he's de finest king a-gwine, He am brown lak de bees deyse'f, an ? he eyes am des de colour ob honey, an' he ain't got no haV on he head, an' he nose an' he eyebrows an' he eye-winkers bin mek out o' stone, an' oh, my ! he got er crown on he HI bald head mek out o' bummle-bees ez long ez brack-buhds (black-birds) an' all a-stannin' up on dey tails." " Oh, Granny ! " breathed Tow Head, squeezing her knee in her two little hands because she must do something, or die of a repressed ecstasy of satisfaction and anticipation. " Sidesen (besides) dat," continued Granny, with the unelated air of genius conscious of its own powers, " I ain't done name ter yo' dat he got er mighty quare suit o' close (clothes) mek 1 Bee-trees, those which bees inhabit. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 17 out o' bee wings ; nur I ain't say dat he kyar (carry) round er long paw-paw stick wid er whustle in de eend foh ter whustle de bees back ter wuhk (work) w'en dey go a-traipsin' (strolling) off, a-playin' in de field stiddier (instead) o' tending ter bizniz. Oh, he wuz de fine genterman, suz ! He uster go a-paradin' thu the woods an' a-hyeahin' (hearing) eb'ry libbin' ting dat de cnttuz (creatures) wuz up ter, eb'ry ting, kase he c'd hear de grass grow an' de fedders a-sproutin' on de HI young buhds in de nest, let 'lone de sbrftes' whispeh dat kin be talked. One time 'twuz de night time an' de big clouds wuz a-rollin' in de sky ole king, he stop by de big oak dat got two hollers an' two swa'ms o' bees. Now, dat oak he bin mighty proud dat he sich a favourzfe dat he got two swa'ms w'en de rest o' de trees, dey ain't got but one, but, at de same time, he allus bin sorter high- strung (high-tempered), an' now he gittin' ole he wuz dat cranky an' cross ! Ole king, he lissen foh ter see how de queen- bee behavin' 'erself in dar. She wuz 'havin' mighty nice time, but ole oak, he grummle an' grummle. He say, * I des sick an' tired ob dese bees gwine hum ! hum ! twell (till) Ise plum 'stractid. Fust dis side ! den dat side ! hum ! hum ! hum ! Hit's wuss den de locust wid dey hollerin', ah-zee, ah-zee, ah-zee, w'en de sun Stan's high. An' I don't lak dat honey sweetnin' a-ropin' around an' a-dribblin' out on my bahk (bark) an' 'tractin' de bugs an' varmints, dat I don't ! Ise a mine to drap whole heaps o' bittah sap on ter 'em some o' dese days, dat I has ! ' " W'en de ole king hyeah dat, he wuz des ez mad ez fiah (fire). He mek one grab,'' cried Granny, raising her voice and suiting the action to the word so effectively that all her hearers jumped, and Tow Head screamed in addition, " an' he scoof dis lot c' bees out o' de oak wid one hand, an' nurr grab an' scoof dat lot wid turr hand, an' him ! he gin dat servigrous (fractious) ole tree des one peck wid dat big stone nose o' hissen a', de laws an' de Ian' ! dat ole oak bin petterfactid. Hit bin mek in ter stone thu an' thu. Dat am sholy de fack kase I'm 3 18 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, got a piece ob er tree dat bin done dataway, my ownse'lf an' lo an' beholes ! hyeah 'tis, dis same piece dat I rub ginst my arm w'en hit git de rheumatiz ; hit mighty good fer dat." " Oh, granny ! " burst in Tow Head, " is that a piece of the very same tree you've been telling about ? " " Hit's des ez possumble ez not dat hit is," said Granny, gravely. "Ef 'twuzn't dat tree hit come fum, hit bin one dat wuz cotch (caught) de same way." " Dat's so," agreed Aunt Mymee, rousing up. " Dey use ter be heaps o' dem stone trees round in de kyentry (country), an' dey all bin sarve dataway kase dey wuz sassy ter de king, ur he tuck up de notion dey wuz." " Granny, dear, sweet, sugar-pie Granny, please, please, PLEASE, let me hold that stone in my hand a minute. I'll be very careful." "De aigs is all did," announced Aunt Mary, to create a diversion, for she knew Granny would never trust that precious piece of petrified wood so near Aunt Mymee as Tow Head's eager hands were at that moment. " Den we gwine ter eat um hot," said Granny, briskly. " Fetch um ter de table, Aunt Mary, w'iles I fish out de res' ob dat cawn-pone (corn bread) an' er smidgin o' cole bile shoat (piece of cold pork)." " May I have two eggs, Aunt Mary ? " " Oh 1 honey, yo' can't hab none," said Aunt Mary, as she set the dish of eggs on the table. " Yo' ma, she say dat ef yo' git sumpin 'sides milk, ur mush-an'-'lasses out hyeah, she ain' gwine ter let yo' come no mo'. Ain' she say dat, Aunt Mymee ? " " O' co'se," said Aunt Mymee, " but dat ain't no diffunce. Missey don't want no aig. She wuz des a-projeckin' wid yo', wuzn't yo', missey ? " she asked, turning her charge's face around in her hands and smiling insinuatingly. " I wasn't ! I want an egg ! I want two eggs big ones, too 1 " AND OTHER SORCERERS. 19 " No, no, honey ! " " Yes, I do, too ! and you're a mean, hateful old thing. You're all mean, hateful old things," continued Tow Head, noting the resolved expression of her friends. " I don't like you ; I don't like anybody in this cabin." " I reckon I mought ez well tek de chile back ter de house," said Aunt Mymee, thoughtfully. " She feelin' so mighty 'bused dat she betteh hed go lay de case 'fo' huh ma." Instantly Tow Head's demeanour changed. That veiled threat of conducting her into the presence of her parent was as potent as soothing-syrup. The presence of mamma meant bath and bed. Tow Head's aversion to water was equal to a mediaeval saint's, and she had long ago resolved that when she was grown she would never, never go to bed again ; if she could have heard a voice cry, u Sleep no more," she would have received the mandate in a very different spirit from that which animated the breast of the Thane of Cawdor. " I was just funning, Aunt Mymee," she declared, with an embarrassed giggle. Peace was restored. The supper, served in Granny's best china, progressed with that tranquillity and steadiness peculiar to well-cared-for cows and ancient dames. When the last egg was eaten, the last bone picked, the debris cleared away, and pipes were restored, Aunt Mary announced with a perfect shower of grins that she " des natchelly honed arter (yearned for) one o' Aunt Em'ly's tales." Aunt Em'ly modestly declined " ter put fo'th any lil triflin' tale twell Miss Boogarry done tole sumpin wuth w'iles." When Big Angy felt disposed to talk she needed no urging ; when she was in a mood for silence she heeded no importunity. This evening was one of her times for communicating, so, without any make-believe bashfulness or preliminary angling for compliments, she told the story of " The Snake's Daughters." 20 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, It was a very long story as she told it, and plentifully gar- nished with original comments, given in language that set at nought all known rules for the personal pronoun, first person singular. The nominative u me " and objective " I " of her discourse added nothing to its quality and much to its quantity, so they may well be omitted here, and only the sum and substance of it all be given as Tow Head repeated it in after years to other children : There was once an old witch who had a snake for a husband, and even he was too good for her. She lived in a lodge by a stream, and he under a rock hard by, and nobody but the moon and the owl knew that they were married. In time they had two daughters beautiful in the face as the most beautiful of maidens, but with cold and scaly bodies. The daughters played on the land and in the water, happily and without knowing that they were not as other girls ; but their mother knew, and if strangers appeared, covered them closely with fine garments curiously embroidered. When they were grown no man could see them and not love them, no man could touch them and not hate them, so their lovers all became enemies, and they raged furiously and came to hate all human kind. No man took them to his lodge, therefore, in accordance with their father's advice, they married snakes. After that they laid all day in the sun and smiled, that they might entrap the unwary, for each had a poisoned arrow given her by her father on her wedding night an arrow endowed with such deadly cunning and power that it never failed to kill whosoever it was aimed at, and always flew back to its owner's hand after it had done its deadly work. Each had also a bow strung with her mother's hair. This bow told her who was coming, and, if he was a charmed man, the one spot where he could be fatally struck. Now, this was very terrible, so after awhile all knew of the witch's daughters, and hated them exceedingly because of their hapless victims. Everything in the land went AND OTHER SORCERERS. 21 on very badly, for when one place was shunned the snake's daughters secretly removed to a new one. Finally, the king of the bees went by. He was ruler of the trees as well as the bees, so those bows of wood dared give no warning of his approach, nor tell his name and title, for he held up his hand before them in token of silence. The strings of the bows hissed like serpents, but that told nothing but that an enemy was by. When the sisters saw him they smiled and beckoned. He approached, smiling in turn. Instantly they fitted the venomed arrows to the strings, but the bows bent like grass and the arrows fell. Hissing louder than the bowstrings, the sisters picked up the arrows and flung them like darts. The strange, ugly man before them laughed till the sky and the earth rang with the sound, and caught the arrows in his hands. When the sisters saw their weapons were powerless they tried to fly, but were given no time to get away, for the king had a stone nose, and the breath from it worked enchantment. He breathed on the arrows, and flung them at the sisters. They were pierced to the heart, but did not die as women do. From their wounded bodies came no blood, only water, stagnant and dark. As it poured out they fell. Their fall was heavy, the ground shook under them, the trees near by staggered as if their roots were loosened from the soil. Where the sisters fell they laid. No one buried them, but no matter, they did not harm the air. Their father and mother did not bury them because they did not know where they were, and did not find them for a long time ; neither did their husbands ; but the birds did, and the wolves and the worms ; nevertheless, none of these creatures molested them. The reason was, the sisters were changed into stone by their own arrows. Many have seen them, and know this to be true. Granny nodded approvingly. " Dat am er mighty fine tale," she said, turning her face 22 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, from the fire to her friend, and puffing tobacco-smoke about her like incense. 41 1 seso, too," chimed in Aunt Mymee, with animation. " Am dat de tale yo' laid off ter tell arter frost 'way back yondeh in de summer-time, Miss Boogarry ? " " Dat him," replied Big Angy. " De Lawd know me tell no tale de lil booggers is froze up in de ground. I de one dat know hit gwine ter bring bad luck ef so dey hyeah me tell tales on um." x " Dey is cu'us 'bout dat. I ain't e'er tell no tales befo' fros', my own se'f," Mymee answered. " Now it's Aunt Em'ly's turn," cried Tow Head, impatiently. " Do go on, Aunt Em'ly, that's a good, sweet aunty. Mamma may call me before you're through, if you don't hurry." Aunt Em'ly smiled delightedly, but hesitated. " Hit's er sorter, kinder skeery tale, honey," she said. " Ef so be dat yo' git all wuhkt (worked) up an' a-cryin/ yo' ma gwine ter lick ole Em'ly." " 'Twon't hurt but a minute, if she does," said Tow Head, with an air of knowledge born of experience. " Missey's des a-projeckin'," said Granny, jealous of the family. " Dat chile ain't nurr yit feel de weight ob no han' in de worP. Huh ! I t'ink I see Miss Agnes a-whuppin' chilluns. Miss Agnes ain't come o* no wuhkin' (working) fambly. She ain't got no strenk (strength) in huh lil wristes (her little wrists)." Tow Head had neither dignity nor family pride. Her mother's adherence to the precepts of Solomon she considered a joke. Her answer to Granny was a meaning smile and a closing of her eyelids. " Hurry up, Aunt Em'ly," she said. " Tell an old, old story." 1 This tale appears to be of Red Indian origin. The habit of never telling Stories till after the first frost is widely spread among the American-Indians, and certainly never could have come from Africa. CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 23 " Tell nurr ole tale ! " exclaimed Aunt Em'ly, valiantly sup- pressing a chuckle at Granny's discomfiture. " Well, de laws he'p my soul ! Ef yo' ain't the beatenest chile. I s'pect yo' reckon ole Aunt Em'ly des mek out o' ole tales, des kase she ole she own se'f. I lay I done tell yo' mo j a'ready den yo' HI membunce kin tote (memory can carry). Howsomedevvah, er tale I done promiss an' er tale I gwine ter tell, an' hit gwine ter run 'bout the aspums (aspens), wid de 'count ob de way dat hit happen dat dey be 'way up de hillside 'stid o' down in de sandbank whah dey use ter be. H-m ! h-m ! whut wuz I gwinter say next ? 'Pears lak I done fegit sumpin. Lemme scratch dis hyeah ole noggin (head) an' see ef hit be so I kin scratch up dat 'count o' dem trees an' de bee-king. Uh-huh ! oh, yes ! now I got um ! Hit bin dishaways : In dem ole times dat wuz such a mighty mich (much) betteh den ourn am ebbeh gwine foh ter dare foh to set up ter be, de ole bee-king wuz a-rampagin' eround an' car'in' t'ings wid er mighty high han'. Co'se he wuz ! Wuzn't he a-ownin' all de woods an' all de bees honey-bees, bummle-bees, sweat-bees an' all ; an' wuzn't dey des miles an' miles ob de woodses in dem days, an' all de trees in de woodses des chock-full an' a-runnin' ober wid de finest kind o' honey ? W'y, my chilluns, de hunks ob de comb wuz ez big round ez de top o' er cawn-bastet (corn- basket), an' dem lil vidgins (divisions) o' de comb wuz ez long ez dis hyeah fingeh, an' 'most ez big round ez one o' dem chancy teacups yondeh. De ole bee-king wuz mighty high- steppin' an' proud 'bout dat time, an' he do des prezackly ez he a-mineter (precisely as he was of a mind to). Ef he feel lak fillin' ole holler tree wid honey-bees, he fill um ; ef he don't, he lef um foh de squir'ls. Now, some de trees, mo' special de cottonwoods, don't lak dat, don't lak dat V^/7, but dey know 'nough, bress Moses ! dat dey don't say nuttin'. One time, dough, w'en de lil willers, an' de lil young cottonwoods, an' de cattails, an' de flags down anigh de ribber (river), git a-chattin' 24 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, 'bout dis an' dat an' turr t'ing, dem cattails 'low hit kine o' quare dat w'en the woods all round is des a-bustin' wid honey, an' some o' de trees got much ez two swa'ms in um, hit kine o' quare dat none o' de ole willers an' cottonwoods got no swa'ms whatsomedevveh. Dat rile de cottonwoods, an' dey fling up dey leabes lak es ef hit gwine ter rain, an' dey mek lak dey gwine ter tek up foh dey 'lations ; but de willers dey mo* careful, an' dey sorter simper out, ' Hu-ush, hu-ush,' ter de cottonwoods, an' so all hands let de 'miration o' dem mischevy- ous flags an' cattails pass by. Well ! so hit go dat time, but toreckly dem ornery, gabblin' weeds tuk de text ergin. ' Whut de bee-king got 'gin yo' daddies an' mammies dat they don't hab no bees an' honey ? ' dey say. Dat rile dem young cotton- woods, an' dey des gwine ter say sumpin sassy, w'en de willers dat wuz ol'er an' not nigh so high-strung (high-tempered), dey simper out ergin, * Hu-ush, hu-ush ! ' des lak de win' wuz a- stirrin' in dey leabes, kase day don't want dat de flags an' de cattails hyeah um. Dat pass by, an' dey all tork 'bout dis an' dat, an' lis'en at de buhds (birds) gwine, ' Cheer-up ! cheer-up ! peep ! peep ! ' ez dey mek dey reddymints foh baid (prepara- tions for bed). Toreckly de flags an' de cattails at hit ergin. ' Am yo' folks so mighty onsound in de bahk dat dey kyarn't be trustid ter hole no honey ? Is dey maggitty, ur w'at ? ' say dem pesterin' weeds. At dat dem forrid an' biggitty young cottonwoods des tuhn deyse'f loose, dey did, an' my Ian' ! sech busemints dey 'wuz nebber de likin's ob sence de worl* wuz made. Dey 'buse de ole king, dey say dey 'spise the bees, dey ain't got no use foh honey, an' sidesen dat, heap mo', I dunno des wut. Den w'en dey git dat off dey mine, dey whirl in an' gib de flags an' de cattails one good tounge-lashin' foh dey imp'ence in axin' ef the ole cottonwoods bin er lot o' no-'count ole half-strainers. Oh, dey des lit inter dem flags an' cattails ! V sarve um right too, fur ez dat go, but dey ain't bin strong in de haid (head), dem young cottonwoods ain't, w'en dey AND OTHER SORCERERS. 25 don't lef ole bee-king out o' dat disco'se. Co'se de flags an' de cattails tole 'im all dat de cottonwoods say, an' ar plenty mo' dey ain't say 'tall dat allus de way wid de tattlin' o' dat kine o' trash. Well, den ! old king, he come down dar, des a-rippin' an' a-snortin'. He 'low he gvvine ter peterfy dat crowd an' de Good Lawd know dat he c'd do dat berry same, ef so be he could a-cotch um, but dat de pint ! Dem young trees mighty soople, an' dey seen 'im a-comin'. Dey run, dey did run lak de Ole Boy (Devil) wuz arter um, an' he run lak de Ole Boy hisse'f, twell he chase um plum outen ribber-botton an' 'cross de perarer (prairie), an' up de lil hills, clean ter de flat place 'twixt " HE RUN LAK DE OLE BOY HISSE'F." de lil hills an' de big ones. Dar he lef um, kase dat wuz out o' his kyentry, an' mighty close ter Tundah (Thunder) Land. 1 Dar he lef um, an' dar dey is ; but, po' t'ings ! dey ain't ne'er grow no mo'. Dey wuz skeered outen dey growth, an' dey wuz skeered twell dey bahk tuhn pale. Mo'n dat dey wuz skeered twell dey leabes trimmle, trimmle, des lake de wind wuz a-blowin' mungs um, w'en de win' ain't blowin', not de least lil teenty, tinty bref. Dat the way dey do yit, all de time. Dey don't git dey colour back, ter dis day, in dey bahk, 1 Thunder-land is apparently of Algonkin-Indian origin. C. G. L. 26 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, an' dey trimmle, trimmle, night an' day. Big wind, lil wind, no wind 'tall, dey trimmle, trimmle, trimmle." u How did their name get changed to * aspens,' Aunt Em'ly ? " " Oh, go 'long, chile ! Hit bin change, dat all we 'bleeged ter know. Ef some folks change dey name an' dey ain't no 'miration 'bout hit, whyso kyarn't some trees ? Ef yo' bound ter know, ax Miss Boogarry. Wen I fust knowed 'er, she wuz call Angelique Beaumais, now she Miss Boogarry. 'Splain dat, den I 'splain how cottonwood tuhn aspum." Tow Head looked at Big Angy. Big Angy looked at the fire, and seemed about as likely to make satisfactory explanations as a totem pole. The youngster gave up in despair, and turned her mind to actions instead of names. "That was a beautiful story," she said, approvingly, a but are you quite, quite sure it's all true ? My mamma read to me once that aspen leaves tremble because our Saviour's cross was made of wood from that tree, and the poor thing has trembled ever since that first Good Friday." " Like ez not, like ez not," said Aunt Em'ly, with the magnanimity of one great mind towards another. " I ain't 'sputin' de word ob him dat mek yo' ma's book ; but ain't yo' fegit, honey, dat dese aspums ob mine bin young aspums, an' dat un dat bin mek inter de cross must a-bin er ole un, kase hit 'u'd tek er mighty big tree ter mek the cross dat hilt up de Good Lawd A'mighty." This seemed reasonable to Tow Head. She thought about it a long time. The flames roared in the chimney, the aunties talked, smoked, and sang, but she interrupted them no more. Presently the flames twisted into snakes, the blackened rafters swayed like trees in a hurricane, the bee-king came out from behind a tall cupboard and gave her head a push that nearly threw her out of Aunt Mymee's lap. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 27 " Ef dat chile ain't drapped off ter sleep, an' I ain't noduss hit ! " exclaimed Aunt Mymee. The snakes, the trees, the king, all vanished. " I wasn't asleep ; indeed I was not." " All right, honey ; but I'll des tote yo' up ter de house so dat in case yo' do git er mine foh er nap (a mind for a nap), de baid'll be handy." So Tow Head was carried away. As she and her " charmer " went toward "The House," Aunt Mymee sang this song, which the child considered entirely too summery for such frosty weather : " De peaches am ripe by de ole souf wall. O, honey, don't yo' hyeah me ? Dat yal-ler gal, she shuffle an' call. O, honey, don't yo' hyeah me ? O, come ter de haht (heart) dat lub yo' so I Come, honey, come ! Do yo' hyeah me? O, come to the haht that lub yo' so ! Come, honey, come ! Do yo' hyeah me ? I tuck holt de limb ter grab yo' er peach. O, honey, don't yo' hyeah me ? De plumpes' ones, dey growed out o' reach. O, honey, don't yo' hyeah me ? O, come ter de haht dat lub yo' so ! Come, honey, come ! Do yo' hyeah me? O, come ter de haht dat lub yo' so ! Come, honey, come ! Do yo' hyeah me? Hit's des lak clis all troo my life. O, honey, don't yo' hyeah me? De gal I want won't be my wife. O, honey, don't yo' hyeah me? O, come ter de haht that lub yo' so ! Come, honey, come ! Do yo' hyeah me? O, come ter de haht dat lub yo' so ! Come, honey, come ! Do yo' hyeah me ? " "Don't say any more about honey," whimpered Tow Head, sleepily. " I'm afraid the bee-king will get after us." H. CONCERNING A GOOSE, A BLUEBIRD, AND OTHER FOWLS OF THE AIR. THE evening was cold and gloomy, so much so that Granny, when she went to the door to welcome Aunt Em'ly, remarked that the night was dark as the north-west corner of a nigger's pocket, and that she smelt snow in the air. Aunt Em'ly stumbled in, puffing and blowing. "De wild geese is a-kickin' up er turrible ruction," she panted. " Dey's a-headin' souf ez hahd (hard) ez dey kin flap, an' a-squallin' wuss'n er yaller-laig rooster wid er litter o' pups a-chasin' 'im. Dey's a-flyin' low too, an' dat means fallin' wedder, ez well ez de way dey go mean cole (cold)." " Dat's de sakid (sacred) troof," assented Granny. " Oh ! I knowedhit wuz a-comin', kase I seed demole win'-splittehs (wind- splitter) the name in the vernacular of a species of long, lean hog that ranges half-wild, and feeds on the mast in the oak woods of Missouri), kyarin' (carrying) straws ter dey beds, two, free days back. Sidesen dat, de breas'-bone ob de goose we hed yestiddy, hit wuz all motly wid w'ite spots. Co'se, ef de wedder promuss fair dat bone u'd a-bin fa'r, an' ef hit promuss rain dat bone u'd a-bin dahk an' motly. Dat bone say, ' snow ^ plain ! an' snow hit boun' ter come." " Hit mighty quare 'bout dem gooses," giggled Aunt Mary in the faces of her serious elders. " Whut mighty quare ? " inquired Granny, severely. " How dem gooses is good foh ter tell de wedder, ef so dey be OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO. 29 libbin', ur so dey be daid. Libbin', or daid, dey tells de wedder pintedly." "So dey does, so dey does," agreed Aunt Em'ly, taking out her pipe and lighting it by a coal she picked from the hearth in her bare fingers. " Gooses is smart. Dey 'zerves er heap o' credick dey don't ne'er git. Den ergin," she continued reflec- tively, " dey ack des ez foolish ez de folks dat name arter um, an' den dey git dey come-uppunce (deserts) des lak folks, too. I wuz tuhnin' er case lak dat in my mine ezl wuz a-joggin' thu de bresh dis ebenin'." " Tell it, Aunt Em'ly, tell it right now ! " It was Tow Head, who spoke from the billowy depths of Granny's feather bed. Aunt Em'ly turned in the direction of the voice, and looked at the small damsel with a quizzical eye. " Whutcher bin a-doin', missey ? " she asked. " I lay dey's er peach-tree lim' ripe fob er lil gal 'bout yo' size up ter de house." " 'Taint nuttin wuss'n tumblin' inter de big watteh-buckets dis time," said Granny. " Hit mought easy a-bin wuss'n dat, dough ; some folks, dey rampage round so. Ef yo' know er tale 'bout good chilluns, Aunt Em'ly, hit won't huht none dat yo' tell hit, w'iles dis chile's close am a-dryin'." " Dat ain't my tale, Aunt Jinny. De tale I hab in ban's am de tale of de meddlin', mischevyous goose dat done got change inter er chicken-louse 'pun 'count o' he foolishness." " Tell um, Aunt Em'ly, tell um ! " cried Aunt Mymee, from her seat by the fire, as she shook and turned a damp little red flannel dress and anxiously felt of its tucks and gathers. THE STORY OF THE BAD GOOSE. " Ef 'twuz er goose dat clumb evvurwhurs dat hits mammy say hit mustn't, ef 'twuz er goose dat putt 'lasses in hits daddy's slippers, an' waked up de baby-gooses, an' slipped hits gran'ma's specs, an' busted um an' let all de bran outen de big pin-cushom 3 o OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, in de spare room, an' dug de eyes outen hits wax doll dat wuz brung unter hit clean fum Ole Feginny, Ise des a-honin* (yearning) ter know de awful jedgeraz/z/ dat come 'pun dat goose." There was an uneasy stirring among the feathers, but nobody said anything, so Aunt Ern'ly proceeded to tell the fate of the goose. " Wunst, in de ole times, dey wuz er fine ole wild goose dat riz er heap o' goslin's, an' dem goslin's, dey wuz all good an' mind dey ma (their mother) ceppin one, but dat one, mineyo', wuz turribler den er whole fambly o' des middlin' bad goslin's. He des wuz er limb o' Satan, dat he wuz ! He gobble up all de greens ; he flounce in de watteh twell hit wuz all muddy an' riley, froo an' froo, an' he bite de odeh goslin's w'en he ma wuzn't a- lookin'. Oh, he des kyar on (behaved) shameful ! Bimeby, w'en he grow up, he wuz de berry wussest t'ing dat e'er flap er wing o'er de ma'sh. De geese, dey 'spise 'im ; de cranes, dey 'spise 'im ; de frogs, dey 'spise 'im ; 'de brants an' de ducks an' de pelicans, de snakes an' de wuhms an' de mud-turkles, dey all 'spise 'im, too. De mud-hens, dey ain't noduss 'im, at de fust, kase he got de sense ter lef um 'lone. Bimeby, he git so biggitty (conceited) dat he 'gin ter peck um on de shins an' touzle up dey haid-fedders. Dat show he suttinly wuz er fool, kase dem mud-hens, dey got er ole granny w'at wuz er cunjerer an' lib down, down, DOWN, in de deep yaller mud undehneat' de watteh. Well, dem mud- hens, dey don't want ter mek no sturvince (disturbance), so dey say, sorter easy-lak, ' Misteh Goosey-Gander, we des plain folks, we ain't no jokers, so des please lef us 'lone.' Dey des let on lak dey t'ink he wuz jokin', kase dey t'ink dat mek hit easyfoh he ter 'pologise an' ax dey pardin. But hit don't. Hit mek 'im mo' sassy. He bite um 'gin, dis time on dey necks an' dey laigs, an' gib dey wings er pull, too. Oh, he hit an' he bit whatsomedevveh he c'd ketch a-hold ! "Den de ole witch corned up, des a-r'arin' an' a-pitchin' (scolding and storming). AND OTHER SORCERERS. ^i " ' Whacheh doin' unter my gran'-chilluns ? ' she holler out dataway dat it fa'r mek de watteh bile up. * 1 1'arn yo' mannehs, Misteh Young Goosey-Gander.' " Wid dat she s-s-s-spit on he back ! " Dat se^f same minnit he 'gan ter wizzle (shrink) an' wizzle. Fust, he wizzle up ter de size ob er duck ; den he wizzle ter de size ob er croppy-fish ; den he wizzle ter de size ob er baby- turkle ; den he wizzle ter de size ob er sand-fly ; den he wizzle ter de size ob er chicken-louse ; den he wuz er chicken-louse nuttin mo'. " ' Dar now!' say de ole cunjer-witch, ' fum dis out, yo' gwine ter be peck at an' chase up an' down by de chicken's bill, stiddier doin' de chasin' an' werryin' yo'se'f.' " Dat wut happen sho 'miff. Wen yo' see de mud-hens come out o' de watteh an' pick, pick, picketty wid dey bill un'- neat' dey wings an' down in dey j'ints dey am a-chasin' dat se'f same grey goose." When the proper compliments had been administered to Aunt Em'ly by her little circle, Granny, with a look toward the occupant of her bed, announced that she bethought herself of a bluebird story wherein was set forth the rewards bestowed by Providence on u dem dat' 'haves deyse'f putty an' nice ", Tow Head cared nothing for innuendoes, but she cared a great deal for stories, so with a cheerful air she stated that she was " just dying to hear the story of the bluebird." So were the aunties, as they hastened to add. Granny, quite sure of the sympathy of her audience, told the following tale of How THE BLUEBIRD CAME BY HIS COLOUR. " Hit mek me plum sick w'en I see er norty chile a-flingin* rocks at de putty lil bluebuhd, kase dat buhd bin fix up out o* er piece ob de Good Lawd's own heb'n. Deed he is, hit's de 32 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, plain troof, and I gwine ter tell all de fax an' de mattehs ob de case. Dishaway de way dat putty buhd git dat fine blue coat o' hisen, stiddi er dat ole grey un dat he use ter w'ar. One time dey wuz er man dat wuz meaner'n gyar-broth (soup made of the gar-fish), pizoned at dat ! an', in co'se, he pick out de like- liest gal in de kyentry, an' git 'er, too ! Well den ! He des ack skannelous all de time, an' de older he grow de wuss he ack, twell he git at de pint ter dribe dat po* 'ooman an' huh (her) two lil chilluns plum off de place an' out o' de township. Den, de po' 'stractid critteh, she hundertuck ter git back ter huh own folks. Ter do dat she 'bleeged ter go thu de turr'blest lot o' woods dat grow dat t'ick dat yo' kyarn't skursely see yo' hand befo' yo' face in de daytime, an' w'en hit come night good Ian' ! hit bin mo' brackeh (blacker) in dar den de eenside ob er witch's pottit (pocket) in de daid ob de cloudy night. Well suz ! dem misfortnit crittehs, dey mek out foh ter go good ways. Den dey git lost. Den de chilluns say " * Oh, mammy, gimme sumpin ter eat. I so hongry ! ' " But she ain't got nuttin, an' she 'bleeged ter say so. She a-honin' arter vittles huh own se'f twell she fit ter drap, mine yo*, but she am' say nuttin 'bout dat. " Arter w'iles, dey say " * Oh, mammy, I so dry, gimme des one gode (gourd) full ob watteh ! ' " She 'bleeged ter say she ain't got no watteh. She bin a-wantin' er sup o' watteh dis long time huh own se'f, but she ain' say nuttin 'bout dat. u Den dey all fall to an' dey hunt watteh an' dey hunt watteh, an' dey hunt an' dey hunt, but dey don't find none. Dey look in all de gullies an' 'long side de lil risins, but stream dey don't see, spring dey don't see. Arter dat dey hunt berries. Heap o' briers scratch um, but dey don't find one berry. " Den dey set down pun de ground an' cry. " Bimeby, dey hyeah sumpin. Dey look up sorter joyful. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 33 Oh ! dey 'd be proud ter see anybody 'way out dar whah dey a-dyin' in de wilderness. " * Taint nuttin, dat am, 'taint nuttin 'cep' dat HI grey buhd a-peepin' down fum de tree.' " Dey all hang dey haid (head) an* cry des lak de rain wuz fallin' down. " Hih ! hih ! shuh ! (be quiet) wut dat ? " Dat se'f same HI buhd. " Dis time dey take noduss dat hit say, ' Come ! come I come ! f " Hit say dat in de sweetes' way, an' hit look right inter dat po' (poor) mammy's eye. " * Come ! come ! come ! ' dar 'twuz ergin' (again). " ' Come on, chilluns,' de mammy say, a-jumpin* up an' a-grabbin' dem chillun's hands. * Ise gwine ter foller ef he lead.' " Seein' dat, de buhd struck out, a-hoppin' 'long mighty slow, kase dem folks wuz weak an' hit know dat. Hop, hop, hop, he go an' 'long dey foller arter. Hop, hop ; foller, foller. Bimeby all han's, dey come ter de puttiest HI spring a-gugglin' an' a-dribblin' out. Dey drink an' dey drink ; den, hop, hop, ergin ; foller, foller, ergin. Den de 'ooman an' de chilluns see heaps o 1 paw-paws x hangin' ripe on de trees. Den po' starvin' crittehs eats dey fill o' de paw-paws. " Den de night come on. " De buhd ain't fergit um. Hit mek out ter lead um ter er big ole tree wid de limbs startin' out mighty low down so dey could climb hit, kase dey wuz mons'us 'fraid ob de wolves an' turr varmints. Dey clum dat tree, des ez I tell yo', an' w'en dey reach de crotch dey stop dar an' go right off ter sleep, kase dey wuz plum tuckered (worn) out. " Nex' day dat buhd feedum an' watteh (water) um, same lak dey bin cattle. Nex' day arter dat, same t'ing. Nex' day arter dat, same t'ing, an' so hit go, day come in, day go out. Hit 1 A kind of wild fruit, somewhat resembling the banana in taste. 4 34 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, tek keer o' um in de night-times, too. In co'se, hit do dat a-pintin' out de trees dey could h'ist (hoist) deyse'fs inter. " Well, at de last, dat 'ooman an' de two chilluns com thu de woods an' git ter dey kinfolks, an' de kinfolks dey mek de bigges' kine ob er 'miration o' er um, an' all dey troubles, dey wuz at er eend, an' seein' dat, de buhd flewd off an' nobody kyarn't stop um. " But dat wuzn't all ! No, suh ! De Good Lawd He seed dat whole bizniz an' hit tickle 'Im so, dat right off, He change dat good HI buhd's feddehs fum de dimmes' kine o' grey ter de bluest kine o' blue, des de same ez de sky, an' dat yo' kin prube ef yo' look at de sky an' look at dat buhd, tuhns (turn) an' tuhns erbout," With waiting a second Tow Head forestalled the comments of her elders by stating that Granny's story was as nice as the one about " The Babes in the Woods " that mama knew. The robins in that story saw two little children die in the woods and buried them " bea-u-tifully " in leaves. " Huh ! betteh a-feeded um an' a-fetched um fo'th a-libbin'. Some buhds, des lak some folks, is fools. De Good Lawd ain't colour up no robins." " He did colour a thrush's eggs grandma said so," cried Tow Head, nettled at Granny's tone, and determined to tell some- thing to equal the story of Bluebird's reward. " That's the way the first Easter eggs came." "Huccome dem yeaster-aigs urrways (otherwise) den fum a-dyein' ob um wid ingun-peelins, ur logwood-bahk, ur green oats ? " asked Granny, rolling her eyes around the group to intimate that she was merely giving her pet an opportunity to " show off," and was not really ignorant of the legend referred to. "Why, don't you know, Granny, don't you, really?" questioned Tow Head, in perfect good faith. " Yo' reckon I know all de tales in de worl' ? " AND OTHER SORCERERS. 35 " I thought you did, but if you don't I can tell you this one. It is a thrush story. The thrush, you know, had a nest very near the place where the cross was set up that Good Friday when our Jesus was crucified, and oh ! Granny the poor little bird grieved and mourned so that her four little eggs turned black, quite black. They stayed so until Easter morn- ing, but then, when the dear Lord rose again, the little bird burst out singing and sang so beautifully that the angels them- selves stopped to listen. And, oh ! when the song was finished and she looked at the poor little black eggs, they had turned silver and gold and crimson and purple. Wasn't that grand, Granny ? and aren't you glad it happened ? If it had not, you know, you could never have had the fun of dyeing my eggs for me," added Tow Head, with naive egotism. " Dat suttinly would a-bin er mons'us pity," said Granny, gravely, and Tow Head wondered why the rest were so rude as to laugh at her. "I know of another bird, too," said Tow Head, anxious to divert Granny's attention and save her feelings. " A wasp-bird, Granny. I'll tell you about him if you like." " Des yo' git dese hyeah close on fust, honey," said Aunt Mymee, rising and going toward the bed. " Dey's dry now, an' pray de Lawd yo' flannin dress ain't swunk twell yo' kyarn't git eenside o' hit." The raiment was adjusted. Tow Head, meanwhile, noting the fit of each piece in anxious silence. She heaved a sigh of relief when her frock was buttoned. " It didn't shrink 1 " she exclaimed, gleefully. " Hit swunk de wedth o' my two fingehs," Aunt Mymee answered. " Oh, I guess not ! I think I've grown that much since tea time. Mamma says I grow like Jonah's gourd. Now for the story, Granny. Big Angy told it me, that day you took me to her house and we had such a good time." 36 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Er good time ! Dellaws ! des lissen ter de chile. Dat wuz de day Miss Boogarry's big brown slut a-most bit de laig off o' huh foh foolin' wid de young pups. Huh ! dat wuz er good time, sholy." " So it was. Angy tied my leg up in a big handful of brown sugar and put a beautiful piece of red calico outside of that, and she let me have the prettiest pup in my lap when we went into the house. Besides that, she whistled a tune for me on her eagle-bone whistle, she gave my two hands full of prawleens and told me to eat them all, and, when I was through crying, she told me the story of the wasp being changed into an oriole. O, let us go to see her again, right away, Granny ! " " Nemmine, nemmine ! Ef yo' want yo' laig gnawed inter sassidge-meat we kin git hit done nigher home. Le's (let us) hab de tale, dough." Tow Head immediately seated herself on Aunt Mymee's knee and, with a close imitation of big Angy's manner, which sent Aunt Mary into a dark corner in a perfect spasm of giggles, and caused the other three to choke on their tobacco-smoke more than once, she told this story, which is best reproduced in a dialect more nearly akin to the King's English than Madame Bougareau's : " When the big black witch from Thunderland came sweep- ing over hill and hollow to fight the witch of the bright Corn Country, the world rang with the sound of her terrible voice and the trees bowed themselves to the ground in terror. In her anger she danced, she whirled, she whistled. She smote the trees, she trampled the prarie-flowers, she scattered the corn-in- the-ear as if it had been blades of grass plucked by a child. She fought the witch of the Corn Country, striking her fiercely. She would have prevailed and destroyed the witch and her country utterly had not a wasp, flung from his nest hung from the bough of an ancient crab-apple tree, stung her in the eye, so that her tears fell, and then she became calm and weak AND OTHER SORCERERS. 37 as the weakest of old women. Then it was that the witch of the bright Corn Country was able to chase her back to her own land. " Now the witch of the Corn Country was not forgetful, nor ungrateful. She took her benefactor, the wasp, in her hand and besought him to ask for whatsoever he desired, promising, at the same time, that it should be granted him. Immediately he answered that he and his wife wished, exceedingly, not to be wasps, whom every one hated, but birds, well-beloved by all. " At once the wasp and his wife had their wish and became orioles ; but, because some of the wasp nature was left in them, they did not build their nests as other birds do, but made grey pockets to hold their eggs, which from afar looked like wasps' nests ; and as they did, so do their children to this day." " Dat's er fine tale," said Granny, glad of an excuse to talk and laugh a little. " I 'clar' ter gracious, ef yo' keep up dat lick, yo' gwine ter beat yo' po' ole Granny all holler, honey." " Sez me, dat chile am gwine ter tek de bizniz ob yo' folks right out o' yo' han's ef yo' don't hustle yo'se'fs," cried Aunt Mary, strangling the last giggle. Aunt Mymee chuckled and made a tight belt of her arms round Tow Head's waist, but paid no mock compliments. She kept silent a long time, musing, doubtless, on the strange adventures of the various birds mentioned during the evening, for she suddenly began to sing of a " speckled " bird and the " Ole Boy." Her song was new to the child, but evidently familiar to her coloured sisters, for they at once joined in the queer exclamatory chorus : " Speckle buhd a-settin' on de ole daid Hm*. Hoodah ! Look mighty peart an' young an' slim . Hoodah, hoodah, hum 1 Look out lil buhd, de Ole Boy come. Hoodah ! Fiah in he eye, he look mighty glum. Hoodah, hoodah, hum 38 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO. Look out, lil buhd, he gvvine fob ter shoot ! Hoodah ! Flap yo' wings an' git up an' scoot. Hoodah, hoodah, hum ! Oh, sinneh, sinneh, dat des lak you ! Hoodah ! De ole Bad Man, he gotter gun, too. Hoodah, hoodah, hum ! He shoot yo' front an' he shoot yo' back, Hoodah ! Down yo' go, plum claid, ker-smack ! Hoodah, hoodah, hum ! Run, po' niggah, run an' run. Hoodah ! Debbil, big debbil, a-aimin' he gun. Hoodah, hoodah, hum ! Run, run, run ; run, run, run ! Hoodah ! Run, run, run ; run, RUN, RUN ! Hoodah, hoodah, hum ! BIG DEBBIL. in. BILLS OF FARE THE CROWS LITTLE DOV&S SON, WHEN Tow Head dashed into the cabin in advance of Aunt Mymee, a delightful odour greeted her nostrils. She knew it well. It was the fragrance of prawleens, 1 that compound of New Orleans molasses, brown sugar, chocolate and butter, boiled together and enriched just before leaving the fire with the meats of hickory nuts, hazel nuts, pecans, almonds, and the never-neglected goober 2 dear to the sweet taste of every child, adult Creole and darkey. " Prawleens ! " exclaimed the maid, delightedly, as Big Angy poured the bubbling mass from a little glazed iron pot, usually kept sacred for the boiling of partridge eggs, into a buttered pan. " Prawleens ! and nothing in the world is as good." Big Angy showed all her white teeth. " Punkin-sass is betteh," she said, slowly. " De punkin-sass dat ain't got no stow (store) sweet'nin', mais am biled down clost (close) wid watteh-million (water-melon) juice." " Chitt'lin'ss is betteh," amended Granny. " Schewed cawn (stewed corn) t'ickened wid dried buffler- meat (buffalo-meat) pounded inter dust am de t'ing dat mek de mouf dribble," cried Aunt Em'ly. 1 Pralines. Burnt almonds. So called from a Duke de Praslin of the time of Louis XIV., who is said to have invented them. 3 The goober (arachis hypogea) is the pea-nut or ground-nut, which still pre- serves the name (gu&a) by which it is known all over Africa ; even in Cairo. 3 Chitlings, an old English word. 39 40 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Shoh, honey ! shoh ! " exclaimed Aunt Mary. " 'Pear lak yo' done fegit bake 'possum an' sweet-taters wid coon gravy." " I stick ter de cawn," answered Aunt Em'ly, with decision' ; " dough I ain't kick up my heels at 'possum. Torkin' 'bout cawn 'minds me, Miss Boogarry, dat I seen yo' bilin' an' dryin' er heap las' summeh. Wut yo' done wid um, seem' dat yo' ain' got no suller (cellar) ? " " Cache um." " Cash um ? De Good Lawd ! How ? " "Wen," said Angy, with dignity, "de roas'in'-yeahs (roasting - ears) is in de milk, me git um, bile um, dig de grains offen de cob wid HI stick, spread um on de big rush mats me mek' twell dey dry lak sand, den me dig hole in de ground deep, putt in de mats all round, den tek de cawn, putt um in de big bag mek outen de eenside bahk o' de linn-tree, fling dat bag in de pit, putt on de top mo' mat, shubble on de dirt, smack um down flat. Dat cachevd? " Uh-huh ! uh-huh ! dat de rale Injun way." " Torkin' 'bout cawn," said Aunt Mymee, who had not before spoken, " mek me fetch up de membunce ob how hit come out dat de crows, dat use ter bin ez w'ite ez er tame goose, wuz all tuhn brack." " Tell dat tale ! Le's hab dat tale," said every one, eagerly, for it was not always that Aunt Mymee would impart her garnered knowledge. " Hyeah 'tis," said Mymee. "In de ole time, de crows wuz w'iter den de driben snow a-stretchin' 'long de perarer (prairie). Dey might a-bin dat- away yit ef dey wuz boss by de stren'th o' dey haids stiddi er de gnawin's o' dey stummicks. Dishaway hit happun : De time o' de yeah come 'round w'en dey hilt dey big meetin' whah dey tork 'bout all dey done in de time back an' lay off wut dey gwine ter do in de time for'a'd. One day dey 'low dey gwine ter hab er big bank-it." AND OTHER SORCERERS. 41 " What's a bank-it ? " asked Tow Head, promptly. " Hit's de biggest an' de finest kine o' er big eatin'. Ise s'prise yo' don't 'membeh dat, kase I hyeah yo' ma read 'bout um unter yo', (unto you) des yistiddy." " Oh, a banquet ! I didn't know that anybody except the people that make poetry had 'em. Go on with the crows, please." " De crows lay off ter had um," continued Aunt Mymee, avoiding a repetition of the doubtful word, " kase one de ole crows done fotch in word dat er strange 'ooman dat ain't got de sense ter hab out her skeer-crow wuz des got thu de plantin' ob her big fiel ? ob cawn. Dey 'low dey ain't gwine ter leabe nuttin foh de cut-wuhm (worm), dey gwine ter tek de lastest grain. Dey didn't know dat 'ooman wuz de ole 'ooman ob er cunjer-man. Dat whurs dey miss hit. Dat cunjer-man wuz tell dat 'ooman er chahm (charm), an' ez she plant she say : ' Sprout foh me, Come out foh me, Mek um drunk dat steal fum me.' Dem crows ain't know all dat an' dey dat hongry dat dey ain't keerin' w'y dat fiel' ain't got no clacker-boy, no skeer-crow, no nuttin. Dey pick an' dey eat an' dey gobble an' dey stuff. Bimeby dey laigs 'gin ter trirnmle an' dey eyes 'gin ter budge (bulge), an' dey fetch one squawk an' down dey flop right 'side de cawn hills. Den come de ole 'ooman fum ahine er big hick'ry stump, an' she ketch up all dem crows an' fling um inter er big splint bag, des lak dem bags dat Miss Boogarry done putt huh cawn inter. Den dat 'ooman, she mek 'er big pile ob sticks an' dry wood-moss an' grass an' leabes an' de lak o' dat, an' she fling de bag 'pun top o' dat, an' den she scrub two sticks tergedder an' strak 'er light an' set de pile afiah. Some dem sticks wuz green an' some wuz rotten she wuz dat mad w'en she wuz pickin' um up dat she don't skursely know 42 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, ef she pickin' up limbs ur pickin' up snakes so, arter de fust flash, de fiah smoke an' don't buhn good. Dem crows wuz smoke turr*ble, an' swinge some (somewhat singed), but dey wuzn't buhn up. Dey lay dar twell dat slow, swomickey (smouldering) fiah buhn er hole in de bag, an' by dat time dey wuz dat skeered dat dey git o'er de drunk dat de chahm gib um. Wen dey see de hole, flap ! smack ! whis-sp ! dey go thu an' fly clean off an' leabe de ole 'ooman a-cussin'. My ! wuzn't dey glad dat dey all git away ? dat is, at de fust, w' en dey feel so good dat dey ain't all brizzled inter coals ; but, bimeby, w'en de smoke git out o' dey eyes, an' dey look dishaway, look dataway, at fust de one, den de turr, den down at deyse'fs, dey dat 'shamed dat dey kyarn't hold dey haids up. My ! my ! my ! dey all des ez brack ez de bottom ob er soap-kittle. Den dey plume an' dey preen an' dey pick an' dey wash ; dey ain't e'en 'bove tryin' cunjerin' deys'fs, but 'tain't no use ; brack dey wuz, and brack dey is, an' brack dey gwine ter be. Deah suz ! yo' all know dat, kase ef yo' bile er crow-fedder wid pearlash an' sof'-soap, yo' kin cut um all ter smidgins (bits), but yo' kyarn't bleach um w'ite. Brimstun kyarn't do dat ! " Aunt Mymee's adult friends made haste to compliment her story as soon as she had finished, but Tow Head, contrary to custom, had nothing to say. She was secretly distressed at the suffering of the poor crows, having a very vivid reali- sation of it owing to an experience of her own. Once she had followed Granny into the " smoke-house," and looked with great interest at the many rows of hams, shoulders, and " sides " hanging from the rafters. While Granny was making a great pile of corn cobs in the middle of the earthen floor, Tow Head hid behind a barrel in a corner, and waited for Granny to search for her. Granny did nothing of the kind ; she poured a shovelful of coals on her cobs, and went off after closing the heavy door behind her, and " reckoning dat chile gone ter de house." Tow Head never forgot the AND OTHER SORCERERS. 43 awful smoking she received before her cries brought rescue ; therefore she could not enjoy a vision of the strangling, smart- ing crows. " Aunt Mymee." she said, by way of changing the subject, " why didn't you tell us, before you began the crow story, what is your favourite food ? " " Wusser-meat," I answered Aunt My mee, without a moment's hesitation. " What is it made of, Aunt Mymee ? What is a wusser ? " " He's a heap o' t'ings," said Aunt Mymee. laughing. " He's livers an' lights an' kidneys an' hahts all de pluck biled down' dost an' chopped fine, an' den cooled an' sliced up lak haid-cheese. Oh ! hit mek my motif dribble now." " 'Tain' wusser, hit wassa, an' hit mus' hab dried churries in um," said Big Angy. " Dried cherries ! How can you get the stones out ? " " Don't take um out, missey. Git de wild churry, de brack churry, an' pound um fine, an' putt dat wid de pluck dat wassa, sho nuff." Aunt Mymee privately thought it a pity to spoil so excellent a viand as wusser-meat by the addition of the bitter dust of wild cherries, but she did not so express herself ; what she said was, that she did not often eat wild cherries, that she had known of people who ate them falling at once into a deep sleep, especially if they were under the tree, and waking up to find that they had been " tricked " (conjured) by some unknown agency ; and, of course, if you did not know how you were tricked, nor who did it, you never could get free. "Dat so! dat so!" exclaimed Big Angy, eagerly. u Dat wut happen wid Lil Dove. Me mammy tole me dat, long time back." Everybody at this was clamorous for the story of Little Dove. 1 Wusser, from the German wurst, or sausage. 44 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Hit mo de tale ob Lil Dove's son," amended Angy. That would do just as well, everybody thought and said ; so, after Aunt Mary had handed round generous lumps of praw- leens, Big Angy told this : In the old time there was a young maiden called Little Dove. She was the most beautiful maiden in all the land and had many lovers, but she cared for none of them, and refused to go with them or accept their presents, or listen to their music. She was an only daughter. Her father loved her very much and would not urge her to marry. The other girls were displeased at this. They wished her to marry ; for so long as she remained single the young men would look at no one else ; they felt a great hatred and jealousy of her, but this they kept secret and were careful to praise her openly and seem to be her friends. They did not tell their real thoughts at all to the old people, though they had no scruples about admitting them to one another. One day all the girls went out to gather the little black cherries. The birds had been before them and they found but few. They scattered into companies of small numbers to hunt more trees. Little Dove felt hurt that no one asked her to go along as a companion, and wandered off alone. After a little search, she saw a fine tree growing at the edge of a very deep ravine cut into the soft soil by a feeble little stream. She set down her basket and tried to shake the glistening cherries from the branches. The tree was so strong and firmly rooted she could not shake it enough to bring down any fruit. She stood off and looked at it as she rested from her labours. Those cherries were the finest she had ever seen. Alas ! they were all growing well out of reach instead of some being on the drooping lower limbs. She felt that she must have them. Again and again she strove to shake the tree. She could not. She flung sticks among the branches. Not one cherry fell. She thought she would go away and find AND OTHER SORCERERS. 45 another tree, but a great longing for the fruit of that particular one constrained her, and as often as her reluctant feet turned away they turned back again. She tried to climb the tree, but the trunk was as smooth as ice. She sat down and wept childish tears of disappointment and vexation. So absorbed was she that she failed to observe that a young man in all the bravery of a warrior's apparel was coming up the steep, high bank of the little stream. He approached and called her by her name. She looked up in surprise. She did not know the stranger. She saw that he was handsome and very well dressed. His cheeks and the feathers in his scalp-lock were painted red. His leggings and shirt were whitened doeskin, his moccasins and blanket were embroidered with porcupine- quills. " Why do you weep ? " he asked, and his voice was pleasant. She hung her head, ashamed to answer, but at last his look compelled her. She told him her wish with regard to the cherries. At once he set his foot against the tree and the fruit fell about them in showers. She forgot the warrior, she forgot everything in her eagerness to possess that which she had craved ; she gathered it hurriedly, she ate of it hungrily. Then a rushing sound came in her ears. Frightened, she looked up from the ground where she sat and saw the warrior coming towards her with his arms oustretched. She fell forward. She knew no more. When the new moon that shone the night before the cherry- picking was old, she went home to her father. She had been searched for. She had been mourned as dead. At first she was joyfully received, but when she affirmed she had been gone but a few hours, the faces of the old people grew grave, the young people became scornful. Her father withdrew into a dark corner, her brothers went away by themselves. She had no mother to reproach her else she might have heard bitter things. 46 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, When an old woman told her how long she had been gone, when she perceived what all thought of her, she begged that they would go with her to the tree and see if they could not help her to unravel the mystery. Some from curiosity or pity went. They found her basket, which she had not thought to take back to the village, all broken and weather-stained. They found the tree that grew on the high bank above the little stream. Alas ! it was an elm, not a cherry-tree. Surely it could never have showered cherries into the basket or on the ground beneath its branches. Little Dove wept very sorely when her former friends went away in silence and left her there. After that life was very sad. Her father and brothers loved her no more. " To go out and gather cherries " became a byword and an insult in the village. When 'she was ill no one was concerned. Even her old lovers forgot their former words and feelings, and avenged their slights with cruel jests. This was more than she could bear, so she went away from them all and built her a home under that fatal elm tree. Daily she looked along the ravine, leaving none of its bramble- covered nooks and fissure unexplored. " Without doubt he is a great magician," she told herself. " He may come again, and surely, if asked, would have pity on a poor girl and make all things pleasant for her again with her people." But he never came. After awhile, a friendless old woman, whose relations were tired of her, came begging to her door. " Let me in, Little Dove," she entreated. " I can fish for you, I can snare birds and squirrels for you. Let me in." Little Dove let her in, not for the sake of the fish or birds, for she could catch those very easily herself, but out of com- passion. Then she was not so lonely. She told her story over and AND OTHER SORCERERS. 47 over, leaving out nothing, and the old woman listened, nodding her head and saying always " I know, I know. Have courage. Some day all will come right. The sorcerer will come again he always comes more than once to those he comes to at all then this people will be afraid and ashamed." This comforted Little Dove somewhat. Then the bitter winter weather came and they never saw the village people even from afar. No one went by crying " Where are the cherries ? " When the winter was past and the cherry-trees bloomed again, there was a bark cradle swinging from a branch of the elm tree a low branch that suddenly wa's perceived by two women. That cradle was the elm tree's only blossom. When the old woman first saw the boy that swung in the cradle, she held him up to the light. " Now," she cried, " the secret magic is revealed." From the child's crown grew a tuft of vermillion hair, shining like a coal amid the blackness of the other locks. When Little Dove saw it she was not so much ashamed ; when the old woman had been over to the village and told the wonder and returned with many visitors, she was not ashamed at all ; she began to be proud. The visitors invited her to go back to the village with them, but she would not. 11 This place will do," she said. " We lack for nothing." Then they entreated her, at the same time offering many gifts. (They had talked together, privately, and said, " This is the child of a great father. We know the father's name, though we do not say it.x Doubtless the son will grow up to be a very wonderful sorcerer. It would be a bad thing to have his ill- will. We must get the good-will of his mother now, then he will be for and not against us after a while,") She answered them, pleasantly, but would not go from her 48 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, tepee, 1 so, finally, all but the old woman went away. They went away, but, now and then, as they moved about, they returned to the tepee 1 under the elm to watch the boy's increasing stature and intelligence. Never was there a boy like that one. He was soon in appearance and intellect a man. He asked his mother many questions. One day he asked about his father. She told him the story she had told to others so often. When she had finished he put his hand to the long red lock. " I will find my father," he said, and the heart of the mother was both sorry and glad when she heard him say it. Next day he went away. He wandered far, he wandered long, but he did not find his father. He went home to his mother and brooded in silence. One day he lay in the shade of the old tree and dreamed a dream. He awoke and shouted as if he were going into battle. " This is the road," he cried to his mother, and began to climb the tree. He went up very fast ; on the straight trunk which had been so smooth once, but was rough enough then ; on the great limbs ; on the small limbs ; out of sight among the leaves. The mother called and called. At first he answered, then he made no answer. He did not come down that day, though she waited and watched under the tree. He did not come down the next, nor the next, nor for three winters. His mother feared she had lost him, but one morning she looked out and, behold ! the tree was black and shining with ripe cherries. " He is coming," she said, and sat down on the ground to wait. In a few moments he did come, walking and sliding down the tree. He had made a great journey. At the top of the tree, when 1 Tepee, wigwam. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 49 he went up, was a cloud, and through the cloud was a long passage-way like the one a spider weaves between rock and bush. He went through the passage, on and on, till he thought he should never come to the end, seeing nothing in the dim light, until finally he emerged into a beautiful land of forests and streams where the woodpeckers, thick as a flight of locusts, were disporting themselves. They greeted him in his own language and conducted him to their chief. The chief addressed him as his son and talked to him earnestly, instructing him in all things he could need to know. "I sent you the dream that brought you here," said the father to the son. " I wished to make you wiser than the men who live altogether on the ground." So the son stayed in the high habitation of the father, learn- ing of peace and war and all that pertained to success in each. One thing only that the father knew he would not teach the son (whom he named " Redfeather) : he would not teach him how to assume the form of a bird. " Not yet, my son," he said. " Not until you come again." When Redfeather seemed well enough instructed, his father conducted him as far as the tree-top and there took leave of him. "Go to your mother's people," he said, at parting, "and instruct them as I have instructed you. Put them above their enemies, make them so that their young men shall, in future, know as much as the old ones do now, and that the old ones shall have wisdom beyond measurement. When this has been accomplished you may take your choice, either to stay with them or lead your mother up here." After saying this the father went back, and Redfeather descended the tree. When he had finished relating all that had befallen him, Redfeather wished to set out immediately to find his people, who had moved a long way off, but his mother objected. She had not forgotten those last unhappy days she spent among 5 50 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, them, therefore she did not wish to rejoin them nor have her son with them. When Redfeather found his arguments went for nought, he left her under the tree. " Here you will find me on your return," she told him, for she had no faith in those people. He set out buoyant of heart. He found the people, he taught them, he led them to battle, he helped them to conquer their enemies, he let them keep all the spoil, he showed them pleasant places in which to dwell. At first they were thankful, then they were proud, then they were jealous, then they plotted against him. He founcj out all these things. He called them together and revealed his knowledge. He renounced them. The wife he married he sent back to her father. He left all behind and returned to his mother. He found her sitting lonely under the elm tree, which was again black with cherries. " Come up ! " a voice called. "I could not climb the tree when I was young, how can I now that I am old ? " said Little Dove, weeping bitterly. " Go, my son, without me." Redfeather took her hand. " Come up," he said, echoing the voice. He started, drawing her after him. She found she could go easily ; so they went, the son first, the mother after ; up the trunk, the limbs, the light branches, through the thick leaves. Some who had pursued Redfeather saw a cloud receive the two. With them went all the good-luck of Little's Dove's people. " Sarve um right, too ! " said Granny, emphatically. " De proud stummick dat spew out de milk in de mawnin' am boun' ter stay hitse'f on crik-watteh (creek-water) 'fo' de day am done. Dat de sollum fack, hit sholy am." AND OTHER SORCERERS. 51 <4 Troof dar, Aunt Jinny ; troof dar, Miss Boogarry," echoed the others. " I wish," said Tow Head, thoughtfully, " that I knew if Redfeather's father ever taught him how to change himself into a bird. Do you think he did, Mrs. Boogarry ? " " Me an' Redfeather ain' kip sikrits at un nurr " (kept secrets together) Big Angy made answer so grimly that the little girl ventured no more questions. Her little tongue was stilled, though her brain was not. She pondered over Redfeather and his probable career in his father's mansions for a long, long time, paying no heed to the neighbourhood gossip her friends were bandying about. After awhile it seemed to her that she was rocked on a cloud herself, and voices very far away began to sing, not in invitation, but this bill-of-fare, of which she certainly did not partake : " Oh ! chicken-pie an' pepper, oh I Chicken-pie is good, I know ; So is watteh-million, too, So is rabbit in er stew, So is dumplin's biled with squab, So is cawn biled on de cob, So is chine an' turkey-breast, So is aigs des fum de nest." IV. MORE ABOUT WOODPECKER. IT was a bright afternoon, but Granny's aspect was exceedingly gloomy. As she left the "calf-lot," where she had been prescribing for a young bovine too soon acquainted with the ills that flesh is heir to, she saw a sight that froze her very blood. A lane ran between the " calf-lot " and the enclosure where the cabins were, and in that lane stood Tow Head flinging corn-cobs with all her little might at a small, dark bird, which was busily examining the rails of the old worm-fence and the bark of an ancient tree that lounged against them. " Stop dat ! Stop, dis minnit ! " shrieked Granny, hastily slipping the bars of the calf-lot in place, and making a dash at the offender. " D'yo' wanter git the whole passel ob us cunjered ? " Tow Head paused in dismay, and looked about for the conjuror. " W-where is he, Granny ? " she asked, faintly. " On de top de fence. Dar, on de ridah " (rider, top rail), mumbled Granny, nodding towards the top rail of the worm- fence, and then hurrying the little girl through the " big gate " of the less primitive boundary on the opposite side of the lane. " You're pinching my shoulder," whimpered Tow Head, vainly striving to wriggle out of Granny's iron grasp. " Nemmine ! nemmine ! " (never mind !) panted Granny. " Des lemme git yo' in out o' sight." OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO. 53 Tow Head was appalled. Never had she seen Granny's eyes gleam like that since the day she and some of Aunt Mymee's juvenile descendants had tried to convert the big yellow tom-cat into an opossum by trimming the hair off his tail with the sheep-shears. " Many a time and oft " had she had reason to thank her lucky stars that she was not " a nut- brown mayde," and in consequence liable to discipline from the old woman's staff. That wretched little bird seemed to have obliterated the colour line. Ordinarily, the little pickle quailed when she found herself marched towards " The House," but on this occasion, when she was unceremoniously ushered into the cabin and seated in the tallest chair, she felt like a criminal about to receive a life-sentence. Granny sat down opposite her, with folded arms and a face as expressionless as a mummy's. Tow Head looked awestruck, looked indignant, defiant, then gave way and began to cry. " The Bible says you shalt not make yourself a graven image, I heard 'em say it in Sunday School," she sniffled. a Uh ! huh ! " exclaimed Granny, in sudden fury, " ole Mymee's bin a-callin' me er gravum image ergin, hez she ? An' yo' ter say dat yo' pick up dat meanness in de Sunday skule ! Ise 'shame at yo', dat I is ! " " I did hear it in Sunday School," insisted Tow Head, recover- ing courage, now that she saw she would have Aunt Mymee as a partner in any " fuss." " Oh, yes ! oh, yes ! well, suz ! des lemme tell yo' dat yo' betteh git dat HI ole niggah ter putt fo'th huh strenk a-takin' off de tricks dat de woodpeckeh yo' bin flingin' at am gwine ter putt on de fam'bly, stiddier a-settin' Miss Agnes' chilluns ter sass dey Granny." " Granny, that wasn't a woodpecker. That little bird didn't have a red head." " Hit b'long in de fam'bly o' de pecker woods des de same, 54 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, an* I lay dat ef hit don't 'scuse yo' on de grounds ob natch el foolishness hit gwine ter raise er mighty ruction w'en hit tell Ole Man Woodpeckeh." " Who is he, Granny ? " asked the little girl, forgetting her peril, and intent only on hearing a story. " Is he the father of Redfeather, Big Angy was telling about ? " "Des 'bout de same, des 'bout de same." " Tell about him, Granny ; tell all about him." Granny deliberated, fixing her eyes meanwhile on a flaw in the chinking of the wall behind Tow Head. Tow Head meekly looked at the hole in Granny's boot. Finally, Granny filled and lighted her pipe, and the little girl heaved a sigh of relief. " Yo' betteh be a sivin' " (sighing), said Granny, but her tone was not one of commendation. " Dat's right. Ise gwine ter tell yo' one tale dat's gwine ter mek dat plain. Gin'ly, I tell tales unter good chilluns, but dis I gwine ter tell soster keep yo' fum fetchin' de whole ob creation down 'bout our yeahs. Dat's right, hang yo' haid down, but," and Granny softened, " come git in my lap, kase Ise got de misery in my breas', and kyarn't tork (talk) lak I wuz hollerin' thu de big dinneh horn. Dat's de jump ! Now, honey, lemme tell yo', all de woodpeckehs dat e'er corned out en er aig is cun-jer-ers ! " " Oh, Granny ! " " Yessir ! Lemme tull yo' wut happen wunst, an' I boun' yo' gwine ter lef dem budhs 'lone foh de res' o' yo' natchel life : " Wunst, in de ole times, dey wuz er mighty peart (pert, lively, or smart) an' biggetty-feelin' lil boy. He tuck arter de rest ob de fam'bly in dat, to be shoh, kase dey wuz all un um peart, but he wuz de peartes' in de lot, an' dat am sholy sayin' heap. Well ! dis hyeah boy wut I gwine ter tell 'bout, he wuz des up an 'a-comin' all de time. He sot traps an cotch de cotton-tails an 7 pa'tridges, he dug out de gophers, 1 hp head 1 Gopher, a kind of marmot. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 55 off de moles, he steal de budh aigs, he shoot de squir'ls, he tree de 'coons, he drownd out de woodchucks. 1 He des whirl in an' get de whole ob creation down 'pon 'im ; but de day wuz a-comin' w'en all de critturs feel dey cotch up wid' im'. One day he up wid er rock an' bust de laig ob er lil peckerwood dat he see a-knockin' at de do' (door) ob Misteh Wuhm's (Worm's) house. " Dat settle de bizniz for dat boy. " Woodpeckeh fetch one squall an' go hipplety, hopplety home. He fine he pa an' say " ' Looky hyeah at my laig ! ' a Old Woodpeckeh look, look long time an' say nuttin. " Den he cuss. " Den he ax, ' Who done dat ? ^ u ' Dat boy down in de holler.' " * Wut he done dat foh ? ' u ' Foh nuttin. I ain't tetch 'im. I ain't ez much ez sen* (send) my shadder 'cross 'im.' " ' Nemmine ! nemmine ! des wait, my child, twell yo' daddy mek de 'quaintance ob dat boy.' " * Fix my laig fust, daddy.' " ' Dat wut I gwine ter do, my son.' " Den Ole Woodpeckeh fix that laig up good ez new." " How did he do it, Granny ? " " He done hit de way dat suit 'im, dat all I knows. I wuzzen' dar at de time. Howsomedevvah he done hit hit wuz er mighty " DEN OLD WOODPECKEH FIX good job." DAT LAIG UP OOD." " I didn't know birds were doctors." " Dey's two free tings yo' ain't larn yit," said Granny, with a fine irony that was altogether wasted on her auditor, " an' 1 Woodckuck, also a variety of marmot. 56 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, one un um is de pint Ise aimin' at. De peckerwoods ain't no shoh 'nuff buhds, dey's cunjerers dat kin be buhds ur dey kin be men, an' de boss un um (of them) all, Ole Woodpeckeh, he kin look lak de finest kine ob er Injun-chief, ceppin dat he don't hafter paint red, he des grow dataways." Here Granny paused and reflected a long time, presumably on the characteristics and abilities of Woodpecker. " Did Woodpecker ask the little boy's mamma to punish him?" asked Tow Head, after various ineffectual efforts to attract Granny's attention without addressing her directly. " Him ? huh ! " ejaculated Granny with fine scorn. " He don't ax nobody ter chew he vittles foh 'im. W'en he git de laig fix he flewed off inter de big woods. He fly roun' dar twell he pick out de bigges' tree in de kyounty (county), an' out o' de biggest last yeah's limb, up todes (towards) de top, he pick de kine o' maggit dat he want. Wut kine wuz dat prezackry I dunno. His wuz de right kine foh he bizniz, I boun' yo' for dat. " Well ! he git dat wuhm an' he watch round twell dat boy wuz soun' er sleep in his trunnle-baid. Den he lay dat wuhm down, keerful, on de winder-sill, an' he fly in de room an' chahm dat boy so he sleep lak de daid out in de grabe-yahd. Dat done, he bore lil hole in he haid, an' ee git de maggit offen de winder-sill an' he putt hit in de lil hole, and kiver hit up an' mek de place well an' soun'." " Didn't the little boy ever wake up again ? " asked Tow Head, in an awestruck whisper. "Cose (of course) he wake up in de mawnin,' but I lay he wish he don't. Dat boy bin a-fidgettin' an' a-flouncin' roun' WOODPECKER'S TREE. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 57 an' a-stirrin' up foolishness dat done kip he pa a-whoppin' ob 'im wid de trunkstrap study (steadily), e'er sence. Mo'n dat, he ain't de onlest (only) one dat got de maggit in he haid. Heap o' folks got um, an' all fum pesterin' de peckerwoods." Tow Head felt the crown of her head with a thoughtful air. " Does a trunk-strap hurt worse than a lady's hand or slipper ? " she asked, seriously. " Heap wuss," answered Granny, emphatically. Tow Head's deepening melancholy was touching to behold. "I reckon yo' safe dis time," said Granny, observing it, <( kase yo's young an' ain't had no speunce (experience). Ef yo' promiss dat yo' ain't gwine ter do so no mo', I 'low I kin beg yo' off wid Ole Woodpeckeh." Tow Head promised with all earnestness. " G'long in de house, now, an' if yo' mek out ter 'have (behave) yo'se'f twell arter suppeh, mebbe I git Aunt Mary ter tell dat putty tale 'bout de fuss 'twixt Old Woodpeckeh an' Blue Jay." This statement so cheered Tow Head that she set out for " The House " in the gayest spirits, singing as she went a little song she had learned from Aunt Mymee. She did not finish it, however, for at the door the auntie caught her up in great excitement, informing her that, u I done hunt yo' evverwhurs 'cept in my own mouf," and adding that the new minister was in the parlour, and wished to see all the children. Immediately thereafter, Tow Head was whirled about in a perfect cyclone of preparation. When she came to herself, she was a very starchy, shiny child indeed, with a fiery warmth in her ears and a sudden chill of bashfulness in her soul. She had barely strength to sidle up to the dignified minister's knee and tell, when asked, her name, her age, the length of time she had attended Sunday School, and her impression that there were twelve commandments and 58 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO. seven or ten apostles. Growing bolder, she stated to that worthy man that she could sing. " What hymns?" <( Little grains of water, little drops of sand " and " Lord, dis- miss us " ; but cabin songs, she frankly added, were a great deal nicer than hymns. " What are cabin songs, my dear child ? " To the dismay and everlasting shame of her parents and grandparents, and to the speechless amazement of that good ecclesiastic from " Down East," Tow Head piped the little lay Aunt Mymee had unceremoniously interrupted a few moments before " Jay-Buhd a-settin' on a hickory lim', He looked at me, I winked at him. I up wid a rock an' I hit 'im on de shin, An' dat's de way I sucked 'im in." V. THE "FUSS" BETWEEN WOODPECKER AND BLUE JAY. Tow HEAD did not make her appearance in the cabin, as she expected, the evening after her interview with the minister, nor for many evenings thereafter. Her relatives were suddenly awakened to the necessity of making her acquainted with the writings of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. The little maiden, nothing loth, at once set to work to memorise the names of the apostles, and later proved herself a promising member of the Church militant by taking sides with or against every historical character mentioned in the Four Gospels. Jay Bird and Wood- pecker were for the time being forgotten, but one night mamma had a headache and grandma a visitor, so away went Tow Head to the cabin again, and immediately bethought her of the long-promised story. Granny, with an oifended air, pleaded timidity. She " wuzn't use ter tell tales * fo ' sech mighty big strangers." Tow Head argued and urged in vain. Finally, she remem- bered that it was Aunt Mary, not Granny, that knew about Blue Jay and Woodpecker, so she turned about with a beaming smile and requested the younger woman to u tell a long, long story." Aunt Mary had her laurels yet to win as a story-teller, and was anxious to make a beginning, so with no more delay than a preface of giggles demanded, she said 59 60 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, "All I knows am des 'bout de fuss 'twixt Woodpeckeh an' Blue Jay, an' hyeah 'tis, des ez I done hyeah hit w'en I wuz er gal 'bout knee-high ter er hoppergrass. Foh er long time Woodpeckeh am keep hisse'f ter hisse'f an' ain't r'ar x round much. He des mine he own bizniz 'tickler clost. Arter w'iles, w'en he don't putt in nowhurs (show himself anywhere), Old Blue Jay, he come fo' (began) ter t'ink dat de whole yearth wuz hizzen. He smack de young squir'ls side o' de jaw, he et up de aigs in de nestes, an' he flirt he tail-fedders in de eyes o' de turr buhds, an' he des ack scannelous evvy-which-aways dat yo' kin name. But he gwine ter git he come-up-ance (punishment), dat he wuz ! an' at de berry time dat he wuzzent 'spectin' nuttin. Dishaways 'twuz come out : Ole Woodpeckeh, he sorter hyeah sumpin an' he sorter rouge (rouse) up outen he dreamin' an' cunjerin' an' he say, ' Wut dis I hyeah ? ' " De chilluns, dey mek arnser back " ' Dunno zackry (exactly), kase yo' ain't lef us play wid de nabeh buhds much.' " (Dat wuz troof too, kase de woodpeckeh fam'bly wuz quality, an' de chilluns wuzzent 'low ter run roun' an' play wid no half-strainers an' trash.) " " Those little woodpeckers must have been awfully lonesome," said Tow Head, wiggling her foot and looking both conscious and defiant. " Nemmine 'bout dat ; dey bin mek out ter hyeah (they managed to learn) dat Ole Blue Jay bin a-raisin' heap o' ruction roun' in dem pahts (parts). " ' Daddy,' dey say, ' Ole Blue Jay, he say dat he am boss ob dis neck ob de woods, an' hit 'pears lak he mean hit mo'n (more than) dat, kase he bin doin' heap o' debbilment de las' w'iles back.' " Dat mek Ole Woodpeckeh orfle mad. " ( Boss is he ? ' sez 'e. * Well ! I gwine ter see 'bout dat. , to rear up like a horse, or curvet ; to show spirit . AND OTHER SORCERERS. 61 Wen I wants enny debbilment done round dis hyeah nabeh- hood, I lay I kin do hit my own se'f, ' sez 'e. " So he tell Miss Woodpeckeh she mought ez well go roun' a-visitin ? an' see ef she kin pick up enny 'ticklers 'bout Blue Jay fum de nabehs, kase dese marters (matters) boun' ter be look inter. " So Miss Woodpeckeh, she go, an' w'en she git home an' 'gin ter tell all dat she gedder up, Ole Woodpeckeh he dat mad dat he whirl in an' chop down er good-size hick'ry tree wid he bill, kase he boun' ter hit sumpin, an' ef he ain't hit de tree he mought a hit Miss Woodpeckeh. " Ez he chop, he mummle an' grummle, lak dis hyeah " ' Gwine ter run dese woods, is he ? ' "Whack! whack! " ' Et up all de buhd-aigs, hez 'e, an' bruck up all dis yeah's nestes ? * " Whack 1 whack 1 " ' Stole er hazel nut right outen de fox-squir'1's paw, on'y yistiddy, did he ? ' "Whack! whack! " * Peck de eye clean outen Miss Cat-Buhd's darter's haid, did he?' " Whack ! whack ! " ' Bern's fine gwines-on, ain't dey ? ' Whack ! " ( I 'low I des lub foh 'im ter kip right on (like to have him continue). Oh, yes ! ' " Whack ! " ( Mebbe I betteh ax Misteh Jay ef I kin stay hyeah, ef I 'have (behave) myse'f, an' ax no questions. Oh, yes ! ' " Whack ! whack ! whack ! " An' so, suz ! he kep' a-grittin' he toofs an' a-whackin' de tree an' a-torkin' unter hisse'f, twell de tree come a-crashin' down, --r-r-ack \- snash ! crash ! boom ! ezde trunk fall, bam! 62 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, ez de lim's slap de ground an' den, squash ! ez de leafy branches queeveh (quiver) an' settle down mungs de bustid undeh-bresh an' vines. " My ! how dat ole Woodpeckeh did go on ! Some ob de chips dey wuz flung so high dat dey lit on de moon, an' dey dar yit, foh all dis hyeah niggeh know. " Wen de tree kim down, Ole Woodpeckeh he clumb onter hit an' he sot dar a-breevin hahd (breathing hard), an' a-open- in* an' a-shettin' he eyes, des ez ef somebody wuz a-fannin' um open an' shet. :c All de time he doin' dat," continued Aunt Mary ; after a break in the narrative to give her an opportunity to depict Woodpecker's mood in expressive pantomime ; " he wuz mekin' up he mine (mind). Wen he git dat done ter he noshin (to his notion or mind), he holler at one ob de chilluns dat wuz a-peekin' round de aige (edge) ob er gum stump. " ( Tell yo' mammy notter set up foh me dis ebenin',' he say. * Mebbe hit mought happen dat I come home late,' sez 'e, sorter wallin' up he eyeball. " ' All right, daddy,' holler back de young one, den away de ole man flewed. " He flewed an' he flewed," continued Aunt Mary, contem- plating the smoky rafter above her, from one end to the other, as if on it she could trace the woodpecker's flight, " des lak chain-lightnin' wuz arter 'im. He flewed an' he flewed twell he flewed ter whah de tall cottonwoods bin t'ickest not ter de Ul cottonwoods down on de san'-bah (sand-bar), but ter de big, big ones on de bluffs furdest back fum de ribber. Wen he git dar he don't fly fas' enny mo'. He fly lil way, hop HI way, fly HI way kine o' keerless lak, ez ef he wuz des sorter playin' roun' an' 'muzin' hisse'f a-hummin' er chune. " Wut he do dat foh ? Kase he knowed Blue Jay wuzzent fur off, an' he 'low he s'prise 'im. a Putty soon arter, he hyeah de young jay-buhds a-squallin', AND OTHER SORCERERS. 63 an' he know by dat dat he gwine ter meet up wid dey pa, berry quick. Shoh nuff, arter w'iles, he see Ole Jay come a-sailin' thu de woods an' light on er low-down daid limb. My 1 he look dat peart an' sassy a-stannin' dar an' a-balluncin' on he lef laig de w'iles he nibble at er lil stiaw same ez ef he hab er fine seegyar in he mouf. He stick he haid on one side w'en he see Ole Woodpeckeh, den he wink, des ez peart ez er free-niggeh buck (young man) w'en de yaller gals go by. Den he spit out de straw an' he holler " ' Hello, ole man ! ' " Ole Woodpeckeh choke back de cuss words an' he say, 4 Hello,' too, an' try foh ter look 'gree'ble. u * Git stahve (starve) out up yo' way ? ' Blue Jay ax, twissen he neck roun' an' a-stirrin' yundehneat he wing foh lil louse. " ' N-not dezackly,' say Ole Woodpeckeh, mos' a-bustin', he so mad. " * Ef yo' hongry, des stir roun' an' ketch yo'se'f er wuhm out o' my trees,' sez Blue Jay, sez 'e, a-combin' out he tail-fedders wid he bill, an' no mo' a-lookin' todes (towards) Ole Wood- peckeh den ef he wuz er las' yeah's aig-shell. " ' 'Bleeged, Ise shore,' sez Ole Woodpeckeh, a-whettin' he bill on er limb. * You's de boss ob dese woods, I spoge (sup- pose) ? ' " At dat, Blue Jay he fetched er sorter cackle. ' Des jedge foh yo'se'f,' sez 'e. * / ain't mekkin' no brags,' sez 'e, * but I 'low nobody in dese hyeah woods am a-denyin' dat I des natchelly gwine ter lam de stuffin' outen 'im, ef he gib me enny sass,' sez 'e. " Uh-huh ! ' sez Woodpeckeh, sez 'e. ' Uh-huh ! Ise mighty glad yo' tole me. Ef yo' hatten ter (had not) tole me I mought a cut er shine ur two my own se'f. W'iles I 'bout hit dough, I reckon I mought ez well mek dat bold ter ax yo', did yo' evveh hyeah tell dat / wuz ownin' er heap o' proppity roun' in dese hyeah pahts ? ' 64 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " ( Yes I reckon mebbe I mought a-hyurn (have heard) dat/ sez Blue Jay, ' but, good Ian' ! ef I hez, I done fegit um. I'm got nurr kine ob fish ter fry sidesen a-loadin' up my 'mem- bunces 'ith urr folks' ole wo' -out (worn out) brags,' sez 'e. " * Who braggin' ? wut brags yo' torkin' (talking) 'bout ? ' say Ole Woodpeckeh, breevin' mighty hot an' quick an* a-torkin' way down in he stummick. " ' Yourn, ef hit come ter dat,' sez Blue Jay, sez 'e, a-stompin r on de limb lak he feel so good dat he gwine ter pat Juba de nex' minnit. " ' Tek dat, den ! ' holler Ole Woodpeckeh, a-hittin' 'im er clip dat des nigh split 'im open. Ise Ole Woodpeckeh, I is, an' Tse gwine ter boss dese hyeah woods des ez I alms hab enduin' (during) ob de forty-'lebin yeahs I bin hyeah (here) befo r de debbil tuck ter mekin' blue jays. Yo' hyeah me ! Yah ! don't yo' cock up yo' laig at me lak dat, yo' sassy trash, yo' ! Come on, den ! Come on ! ' " * Don't yo' try ter cunjer me, yo' ole bag o' shucks,' Blue Jay holler back, ' kase hit kyarn't be did, no hit kyarn't ! ' " * Cunjer nuttin,' sez Ole Woodpeckeh. * Who gwine ter tek de trouble ter cunjer sitch er low-life, sneakin', ole aig- sucker ez yo' ? Des lay down an' lemme tromple de lights outen yo'. Hit'll save me time an' you trouble,' sez 'e. " Den Blue Jay low hit time someun teach dat low -flung red-head mannehs (manners). ( I des wisht,' sez 'e, ( dat dat HI pee- wee buhd 'u'd come 'long an' tek dis triflin' bizniz offen my ban's,' sez 'e, ( but ez him an' all de turr buhds is a-tendin' ter dey own marters, study (steadily), I reckon I boun' ter string yo' 'long de ground my own se'f,' sez 'e, an' wid dat he spit on he claw an' he rattle he bill an' he set ter wuhk ; an r dar dey hed hit, up an' down, roun' an' roun', back an' fo'th twell des 'bout sundown. Long 'fo' dat dough, Ole Blue Jay's bref come mighty shawt (short), he haht (heart) ack lak she gwine ter bust thu he ribs an' he tongue feel lak dat ole straw AND OTHER SORCERERS. 65 he wuz a-chewin' w'en woodpeckeh fust lit. Sidesen dat, he'd a giner holler log cramful ob aigs (eggs) ef he'd hed um foh des one sup o' cole watteh (cold water), but, de laws o' massy ! he ain't git no watteh, wut he git wuz de bes' kine o' er lickin'. Ole Woodpeckeh, he des natchelly lay 'im out bedout (without) cunjerin, at dat an' dat breshin' o' he hide done 'im heaps ob good an' last 'im long time, too." As Aunt Mary finished there was a mighty clapping at the door, as if two broad and vigorous palms were impelled by a OLE BLUE JAY LAID OUT. perfect frenzy of applause. She screamed in affected dismay, lifted one shoulder and drooped the other, clapped her hands over her mouth and sank back as if she were faint just as Granny ushered in the visitor. " Dellaws ! (La !) Misteh Palmer," she simpered, " I kyarn't speak ter yo' yit. Yo' skeered me dat bad, my haht (heart) am des right up in my mouf." " I wisht yo'd spit hit out an' let me pick hit up," responded the " genterman," gallantly " Tee, hee ! " giggled Aunt Mary, turning away her head, 6 66 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, but holding out her hand. " How menny time is yo' say dat, endu'in' ob de las' week, Misteh Palmer ? n " I ain't say hit none, bekase I ain't see yo' none," answered " Misteh " or as Tow Head was accustomed to say, " Uncle John " Palmer, with elegant deliberation. " Wut I mought a.-thunk am sumpin different. Dey is times in de cose (course) ob er genterman's persistence (existence) dat he t'oughts foller de lady ob he ch'ice ez de shadder follers de tree. My deah miss, yo' hez hed de 'zervence ob dat befo' yo' eyes dis long time." Aunt Mary was so overcome by this that she was forced to pull' the kerchief off her neck and stuff a liberal portion of it in her mouth to smother her laughter. Uncle John rolled his eyes at her, " lak er dyin' calf," as Granny afterwards told Aunt Mymee, grinned slightly, and then sighed deeply as he subsided into a chair. " Don't yo' sive (sigh) lak dat," expostulated Granny. " Yo'll draw all de fiah out o' de chiinbly an' blow lil missey hyeah clean thu de winder." "Er genterman kyarn't allus keep down he feelin's," said Uncle John, with another tender glance towards the object of his affections, " but I gwine ter be keerful dis ebenin', I sholy is. An' how is de lil missey ? " he asked, turning towards the child and speaking in a more sprightly tone. Tow Head was well and said so. Of her own accord she added that the baby was well too. " Uh-huh ! I t'ought dat mole-foot fetch 'im ! " exclaimed Uncle John, with satisfaction. " De chile dat am cuttin' toofses am bound ter hab de right fore-foot ob er mole, ur er necklash (necklace) ob elder twigs, ur er brack silk bag wid de dried up breens (brains) ob er rabbit in hit, else he cut um hahd. Ef I'd a had de infamashun sooneh dat he wuz a-cuttin' I c'd a-save dat po' lamb er heap o' suff 'rin'." " De trouble wuz," said Granny, " dat dem shif 'less young niggahs dat Mymee 'low ter tote (carry) dat chile, lef 'im look AND OTHER SORCERERS. 67 in de lookin' glass. Dat allus mek er baby cut he toofs hahd." " Troof, too, Aunt Jinny, but de molefoot fix 'im." " I dunno," grumbled Granny, " w'y Mymee, ef she kin cunjer so big, ain't cunjer de misery out o' dat chile's gums." " Some kin cunjer 'bout one t'ing, some 'bout nurr," said Uncle John, easily. " Now, Aunt Mymee, she got de name mungs de gyurls dat she am er daid shot at mekkin 1 de han' o 1 lub (hand of love a voodoo charm which insures marital felicity) an' huh lub-powdehs dey go right ter de spot, time an' time ergin, but de man dat mek de bes' Jack (spell or charm) goin', he sets right befo' yo'." " How yo' mek um ? " inquired Aunt Mary, turning around. " Ef yo' gimme dat HI w'ite luck-stone Adam gib yo', I let yo' hab mine an' tell yo wut's in hit," Uncle John answered. Aunt Mary demurred. " I'll t'row in my rabbit-foot, foh boot," added Uncle John. " W'ich foot ? " " Right fo'-foot. I don't stop at keepin' off bad-luck 'ith de lef ' hine-foot, I hones (desire) arter downright good-luck an 1 so I kerries de fo'-foot foh dat." " Lemme see um." The foot and the " Jack," which latter was a small buckskin bag tied with white yarn, were produced from some secret receptacle between Uncle John's heart and his ancient broad- cloth vest. " Wut sort o* Jack's dat ? " Aunt Mary asked. " 'Tain't none o' yo' ole cheap snakeweed { tricks' ; hit am kimpoge (composed) o' de best brimstun to de 'mount ob er teaspoonful, an' de same o' alum, 'sides er chunk ob er root ob Conquer-John (Solomon's Seal Pohgonatum biflorum), an' er pinch ob salt." " Wen Wash wuz a libbin', he gin me a Jack wid may- apple root an' red clober in hit." " Dat," said Uncle John, " wuz good at dem times, but 'tain't 68 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, no good ter de single pussons ez I bress de Lawd yo' am at dis minnit seein' yo' ain't double up wid me" This last compliment so " fetched de feelin's," of Aunt Mary that she agreed to exchange fetiches. Accordingly, she pro- duced the luck-stone, a circular white pebble about three- fourths of an inch in diameter and of the thickness of a silver dollar. Uncle John scrutinised it carefully. " Hit's all right," he said. " I wuz a-lookin' ter see ef hit hed enny brack lines ur specks. Dat kine is pizen bad luck foh de one dat kerries um, an' some low-flung niggehs is ob de meanness o' sperit ter parm um off on dey bettehs. Now, ef de brack wuz brack lettehs dat's diffunt in de respecks o' bein' turrwise. I wunst hed er stone, dat I found on de aige (edge) ob er crik, dat hed er A an' er B an' nurr letteh dat I kyarn't at dis minnit name, 'pun 'count ob de entitle ob hit a-slippin' my membry. Dat stone fotch an' pejuce (produce) de best o' luck r but, misfortnitly, I drap um out o' my pockit an' tromp on um w'en I wuz a-sarchin' for ter find um. Wen I lif ' up dis hyeah stremiky o' mine," continued Uncle John, lifting an extremity that must have been the despair of shoemakers, " dey wuzzent much lef ' o' dat luck-stone." This conversation had been carried on in a low tone, as it was not considered suitable for the child's ears. Granny, with the best intentions towards all parties, had endeavoured to hold her attention by telling a wonderful tale of a " fine hoss-hair bunnit," once owned by " Miss Agnes," but Tow Head's ears were as keen as a young fox's, and the only words she missed were those not intended for her ears. " I wish J had a luck-stone," she said, walking over to Uncle John and laying a hand on his knee. " Des wait twell yo' grow up," said Uncle John, smiling foolishly, " an' I bound dat yo' git er fine one in de meantimes ; I gwine ter hab de pledger (pleasure) ter sing yo' er song 'bout AND OTHER SORCERERS. 69 4 Peekin' Will de Weaver,' dat am, onless yo' ain't got de pashuns (patience) ter lissen unter er ole squawker lak me.'' When was there a time that Tow Head was not all eagerness to hear a story or song ? Her enthusiasm moved Uncle John to begin at once. He patted a few strokes by way of prelude, " wished ter gracious he had brought his banjo," threw in an explanation to the effect that Will had dumb on de roof o' de cabin an' wuz a-peekin' down de chimbly," and then burst forth in the following irregular melody : " Did yo' evveh see a chimney-sweeper Half so black as Will de weaver? Carry him off on de joke, He'll come no more to stop my smoke. I built me up a rousing fire, I built it to my own desire. Hit's up the chimny de fire went blazin', Hit's down de chimhley he kim gazin'. Den de nasty wretched soul Laid stretched out on de chimbly-pole. Den thu de room 'ith my foot I kicked 'im. Den ev'y time I kicked 'im he spoke, ' I'll corne no mo' ter stop yo' smoke.' Den out de do' 'ith my foot I kicked 'im, An' ez out de do' 'ith my foot I kicked 'im, Den out de gate my dog did shake 'im, An' ev'y time he shook 'im he spoke, ' I'll come no mo' ter stopyo' smoke.' Now he foot in he hand an' he clo'es likewise, Carry 'im off wid he two brack eyes. Now, hit's carry 'im off on de joke, Les' I t'ink ergin I'll mek 'im smoke." VI. HOW WOODPECKER MADE A BAT; ALSO SOME OTHER FACTS OF NATURAL HISTORY NOT GENERALLY KNOWN. WHEN Tow Head hurried into the cabin the next evening, all eagerness to see if Uncle John was present with his banjo, she was greatly disappointed to find that the only " company " was Big Angy. Her greeting had so little warmth in it that Big Angy considered a grunt the only reply necessary, and at once went on with her interrupted conversation. " Oh-wee (om)," she said, " me know dem woodpeckeh man, well. Him de rouge-nain de petit homme rouge. Sartain ! Ef I know dat Aunt Mary tell o' heem, I be hyeah las' night. Oh, me know ! va / H-s-s-t ! de tale of de bat, I kin tell hit." " Dat's good news," said Granny, cheerfully. " Des go right on wid um, Miss Boogary. We is all got owah yeahs (ears) cocked foh hit." Big Angy went " right on," as nearly as her discursive pre- dilections would allow, but her tales had at the best of times " many a windin' 'bout " that was not " linked sweetness." As her dialect, which was neither French, Indian, nor yet plain Darkey, but contained all three elements capriciously mingled, was like that famous mare that had only two faults " hard to catch and no account when caught " it can serve no good purpose to repeat any great amount of it. " Biled down," to quote Granny, the story is this : 70 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO. 71 In the old times, when Woodpecker's family was very young, he was once out on the prairie looking for medicine. He was gone a long while. What he sought he was longer in finding than he had expected he should be. When he was successful he still loitered, and was in no hurry to get home. He had with him his magical whistle made from the bone of an eagle's wing, and he would have played strange music on it had he not heard the doctor of the prairie-chickens pounding on his drum. u Some- thing is going on," said Woodpecker, and he hid himself in a thicket of plums and burning-bush (bitter-sweet), hoping he might learn some more magic, for Prairie- Chicken knew a great deal, but as he was no friend of Woodpecker he never imparted to him any secrets. He listened eagerly, but the sound of the drum ceased suddenly, and he heard voices. He looked sharply into the grass and saw a field-mouse, then he glanced into a thick tangle of vines and saw a small, ill-favoured night-hawk. He gave heed to their conversation, at first from idle curiosity, but he soon had a much stronger interest. The two were discussing how they could best contrive to get Woodpecker's family for supper. This they wished not merely because the young ones were fine eating, but because whosoever ate them would have great power in sorcery. They further decided to contrive that the blame should be laid either on Black-Snake or Catamount. After much discussion, they agreed that Black- Snake should bear the punishment of their misdeeds. The first plan was to eat all the little woodpeckers but one, themselves, then invite him to sup at the foot of the tree where the nest was, give him the last one, and hurry away. Even if old Wood- pecker did not find him, his slimy track would betray the fact of his visit. This plan was not quite satisfactory ; the wicked ones feared that the feast would make Black-Snake too wise to fall a victim to their wiles, so they concluded it would be safest to feed him with a toad. This settled, the next point was to get old Woodpecker and his wife out of the way. This was easy 72 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, enough to manage. They remembered hearing Woodpecker's wife say it was a time of year that they hid themselves and had dreams. So all things promised well. Field-Mouse went home. Night-Hawk went to sleep among the leaves. Woodpecker quietly flew to his tree. At once he sent the children away, not, however, before he had plucked a feather from the wing of each. These feathers he blew into the air, and they came back to him birds. All but one of these magical birds he put into WOODPECKER MAKING BIRDS. the nest lately filled by his children. The one he kept out he carried down to the river bank and filled with pebbles. " Take care you are the last bird eaten by Field -Mouse," he com- manded. The magical bird promised obedience, and was dropped into the nest with the others. That night the hawk and the mouse went to the nest, Mouse riding on Hawk's back like a witch riding an owl. They AND OTHER SORCERERS. 73 ate all the birds, and enjoyed the feast with wicked delight and triumph. Last of all was eaten the bird fed on pebbles. Then Mouse mounted again, and Hawk endeavoured to fly down from the tree. He could not move, he was pressed flat against the limb on which he sat. When he found what a burden Mouse had become he reproached her bitterly for her greedi- ness. She was angry, but gave him no answer ; she could not speak, so sick and oppressed she felt from the weight inside of her. // A o. OLE WOODPECKEH, MOUSE, AND NIGHT-HAWK. Hawk became furious, and tried to throw her off, but she clung to him desperately. They had a long struggle, and during its continuance she kicked holes in his back and her feet slipped into them. When they at length fell to the ground, her weight still held them fast together, so in terror and hatred they fought and wrenched each other as they lay on the earth. The struggle lasted all night. In the morning Mouse threw up the pebbles, but that did her no good. She had grown fast to Night-Hawk, and to this day has continued to be a part of him. This is very terrible for both, but they cannot help it. Now they are called " Bat," as if they 74 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, were one. Another thing remember concerning them : so awful is the memory of that night when they were made one, and so fearful are they of being filled up with pebbles again, that they always rest and sleep head downwards, as any one can bear wit- ness who has ever seen a bat in repose. When Big Angy had finished she assumed a severe cast of countenance, and looked into the fire as if no thought of applause or ad- MOUSE HAWK. miration had ever crossed her mind. " Dat er mighty fine tale," said Granny, emphatically. " So 'tis, tee-hee ! So 'tis, tee-hee ! hee ! hee ! hee ! " snickered Aunt Mary. " That other one," affirmed Tow Head, in a still, small voice, " was better, and so was Aunt Mary's story about the fight. Do you think, Mrs. Boogarry, that this Mr. Woodpecker is the one that lived in the cloud at the top of the tree ? " " 'E ain't say ter me ef 'e wuz ur ef 'e wuzzent," growled Angy, without turning her eyes from the fire. " Yo' dat smaht, missey, yo' berr g' long an' ax urn." " I would, if I knew where he lived," sighed Tow Head, u but you see I don't. Could you show me the way ? " she asked, suddenly brightening. Angy gave a short laugh and looked around. u Me do dat w'en de fros' git out de ground," she said, with a wink at Aunt Mary and Granny. " Dish not de time de yeah foh huntin* nuttin 'ceppen rabbit ! " " Tell me a rabbit story," said Tow Head, promptly. Big Angy shook her head. " We ain't at de eend o' Wood- peckeh yit," she said, decidedly. " Let us hurry, then ! " cried the child, impatiently. " Aunt Mymee will come for me as soon as she rocks the baby to sleep, and I do, do, DO want to hear a rabbit story. What else did Woodpecker do ? " AND OTHER SORCERERS. 75 " Sot er man crezzy (crazy) dot bin my fren' an' kill 'im at de las'," said Big Angy, sententiously. Tow Head gave the same sort of a delighted shiver as that with which she always greeted the account of little David holding up big Goliath's head. " Oh I oh ! " she cried, " do tell it quickly. Never mind the knitting. I'm sure you're working on my mittens, and I don't need them. When I go out of doors I can roll my hand up in my apron, just like Aunt Mymee does. Doii't stop to count stitches ! " Big Angy was in no mind to let the stitches go. She counted and re-counted at the scrap of work she had taken from her bosom as she finished her story, until it seemed as if she had counted stitches enough to cover the hand of a giant. When she was through, she took one stitch and then counted all over again with extreme deliberation. Aunt Mary looked at Tow Head, giggled, and then retired to a corner to meditate on the withering look Granny cast upon her. " Hit," drawled Angy, " was Jean Jean Lavallette that lib in de big plastered house in de uppeh bottom. Jean, he bin rich. He papa gin 'im lots o' Ian', lots o' money." "Dat wuz good," commented Granny, removing her pipe from her lips for a moment and stirring in the smoking bowl of it with her little finger ; " but dat all dey wuz (that is all there was) good 'bout Jean, sholy. I knowed 'im. In de p'ints o' fack I laid dat po', mizzible sinneh out. He wuz the leastest putty cawpse dat e'er fill up er coffin, dat I knows." Angy cared nothing about Jean's lack of beauty as a corpse, she went right on with her story and stated, presumably to the back log, for her gaze never turned from it, that Jean was rich, that he married a beautiful wife, rich also in ponies, cattle, and land. So well off was he that he had no need to work. He became a very idle fellow, he laid on the grass and thought of 76 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, nothing. Because one cannot always do nothing at all but eat and smoke, in mere wantonness of spirit he took to throwing stones at the birds. He began with the jays and robins, because they hopped about him and seemed to mock his laziness. When he had grown so expert at his wicked pastime of striking the little creatures that his very first throw stunned the one he aimed at, he was no more content to kill robins and jays, he slaughtered indiscriminately. Soon none were left but wood- peckers. " Have care," said his friends to the bold fellow ; " it is the worst of luck to get the ill-will of le nain rouge* Some of these woodpeckers about here are real birds, but we know not which feathered skin hides the sorcerer or his children." At such warnings Jean only laughed, or if he said anything it was to boast loudly that he had killed woodpeckers and would do it again. Mark the result. After killing woodpeckers it was no time at all until he took to drink. Oh ! not merely to getting drunk at the dances and on holidays, that, to be sure, was to be expected, but he took to keeping the jug always at his right hand, and truly the weeds never had a chance to grow while it was still. Drink, drink, drink he would, from sun-up to sundown, and from starlight to sun-up again, even reaching out for the eau-de-vie in his sleep. For the matter of that, he was never quite awake, nor quite asleep, though almost all the time he breathed as if the black dog of the witches were in his throat. All things went wrong with the farm, in spite of Isabel's hard work and care, and because of this, the bewitched creature would sometimes rouse up and curse her. One day, when she 1 The red dwarf. The earliest Latin races, Etruscan and Sabine, recognised in the woodpecker " the red dwarf," or red-capped goblin, whom they called Pequ, Picus, and Picumnus. Hence from Pic, the word pecker Vide Preller, Roman Mythologie. C. G. L. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 77 was at work in the field, the baby took a fit and died, with Jean looking on and doing nothing. Isabel buried the baby and went home to her father. Then the stock was stolen, the prairie-fire took the fences, the fodder rotted in the fields. He looked about him, one morn- ing, frosty enough to brighten his wits, and found not even the smallest of small pigs was left to him. He was hungry, he went to catch a fish. As he started, he saw a woodpecker running along a tree-trunk. Full of fury, he swore terribly, and flung the empty whiskey -jug directly at it. In an instant, what a change ! The bird was a man, small, fierce, terrible, breathing flame. It flung a dart of lightning through him, it spit flames, into his eyes. 1 He fell insensible from pain and fright, and knew no more until evening, when some neighbours happened to pass along, and found him more dead than alive. For a long time after they had restored his consciousness, he shrieked and raved of the little red man, and many times told all that had hap- pened. Nothing, not even holy water, did him any good. After much suffering he died, and no wonder, for there is no limit to the power of an offended homme rouge. Tow Head was speechless. Aunt Mymee came in with a peremptory command for her " to show herself mejumly (imme- diately) at de House," and she was not loth to obey. She was really sorry when, in answer to a most flattering invitation, Aunt Mymee agreed to stop a few moments and " top off de ebenin' wid a chune (tune)." " Don't," entreated Tow Head. '* Des er minnit, honey," said Aunt Mymee, retiring, with the child in her arms, to the corner farthest from the others. " Now, ladies, mek ready foh de co-is (chorus), an* git yo r moufs in chune." 1 The Romans were very much afraid of being blinded by the woodpecker. To prevent this they carried as a charm either the root of the red peony, or red coral. C. G. L. 78 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO. The " ladies " " chuned up " by laying down their pipes and opening their mouths. Mymee began " Death-watch tickin' in de wall." To which they responded with all the strength of their lungs " Hyo ! hyo, niggah ! " "De bigges' tree is boun' ter fall." " Hyo ! hyo, niggah 1 " " Ole man count he steers an' crap." " Hyo ! hyo, niggah 1 " " Des wait ole man, yo' gwine ter drap." " Hyo ! hyo, niggah 1 " " O, gentermens, look out ! look out !" " Hyo ! hyo, niggah ! " " De Ole Bad Man, he mighty stout." " Hyo ! hyo, niggah ! " " Yo' git flung down befo' yo' t'ink. ' " Hyo ! hyo, niggah 1 " '* Den, in de pit yo' bile an' swink." " Hyo ! hyo, niggah ! " VII. WOODPECKER AND GREY WOLF-WOODPECKER, THE HUNTER, AND DOG HOW REDBIRD CAME BY HIS BRILLIANT PLUMAGE. THE next evening there was a most delightful reunion in the cabin. Aunt Em'ly was with her friends again, after many days' absence. One of her sons had been " in trouble," owing to his having confused the laws of meum and tuum one pleasant night, when by chance he stepped into a neighbour's hen-house. " Des wut I 'spected," Granny had commented, severely, when she heard that the youthful Elisha languished in the 41 calaboose." ' I blames dat up ergin Em'ly, I does so. Wen dat chile wuz er baby, spites o' all I c'd lay offen my tongue (could say), Em'ly use ter cut dat's chile's fingeh nails wid de scissus, stiddier a-bitin' urn off. In cose dat wuz bound ter mek 'im er t'ief." So said they all of them, but they were good to Aunt Em'ly excepting with their tongues. They treated her as if she were in bodily instead of mental distress ; they went into her poor home and helped her with her work ; they gave her of their stores of food and finery ; and, when Lish's short term of im- prisonment had expired, and she lifted her abashed head and " showed her face among her friends " once more, she was given the seat of honour, and literally cushioned on down ; for Granny insisted on softening her hard situation as much as might be by the aid of a pillow stuffed with swansdown, and never before 79 8o OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, used for any purpose whatsoever save that of ornamentation not even the children of " Miss Agnes " had been allowed to press its sacred plumpness with their little heads. " Ise feared yo' ain't settin' easy," said Granny, looking at her guest with great complacency. Aunt Em'ly, lifted so high in the old wooden rocking-chair that her feet scarce touched the floor, and seemingly in great fear lest the mighty and magnificent cushion beneath her should explode like a bomb-shell, answered with emotion " Ise mighty comf uble, Aunt Jinny, mighty comf'uble ; but Ise oneasy les' I spile dis hyeah piller. Hit's er heap too rich foh my blood." "Huh!" exclaimed Granny, with fine scorn, "Ise mighty ole, and Ise lib er long time an' seen er heap o' pillers in my day, but I got yit ter see de one dat's too good foh yo' ter set on, Em'ly." " Dat's wut I sez." " Me, too." u Me, foh nurr." " Lan' sakes ! " cried Aunt Em'ly, laugh- ing, though the tears were running down her kind old face, " ef mung han's (among you all) yo' don't mek out ter spile me, I des AUNT EM'LY. lak ter know who's ter blame, dat's all." 11 1 think you are too good to spoil, Aunt Em'ly," said Tow Head, adding her mite with all seriousness. " Yessir ! yessir ! " cried Granny, beaming on the child. " Des hyeah dat ! Laws ! Aunt Em'ly, dat chile hez des hone (yearn) foh yo'. Time 'pun time she corned in hyeah an' she say : ' I wisht Aunt Em'ly'd come.' Hit mos' fetched de teah ter my eye." Aunt Em'ly cackled in quite the old-time fashion, and wiped her eyes on her apron. " Dat's de bes' chile in de worl'," she cried. AND OTHER SORCERERS. Si Tow Head was actually embarrassed by this most unusual and unexpected compliment ; but she was not the one to waste her opportunities while she gave her emotions play. " Tell me a story," she pleaded, instead of returning thanks. " Tell me a rabbit story, Aunt Em'ly. Mrs. Boogarry and all the rest of them keep on telling woodpecker stories, and some of them are funny and some of them scare me." " Dare now ! I knows un dat ain't gwine ter scare yo', honey, 'bout Grey Wolf an' Old Woodpeckeh. I boun' hit mek yo' laff. Lemme tell yo' dat." Tow Head had confidence in Aunt Em'ly, and at once agreed to listen to anything she would relate ; so the old woman made one last desperate effort to plant her feet firmly on the floor, and began : " One time, w'en Ole Woodpeckeh wuz feelin' dat fat an' sassy dat 'e t'ink one o' he tail-fedders know mo' den er whole passel ob de turr buhds, he strut roun' a-huntin' foh some sort o' debbilmint foh 'muse hisse'f wid. He look hyeah an' he look dar, he look hidder an' he look yan (yonder), but he don't see de leastes' mite o' fun, kase w'y, dey wuz wunst er day (they knew) dat 'e des natch 'ly lam de peelin' offen Ole Jay Buhd, an 1 dat skeer de urr buhds so dat dey dassent neighbeh wid 'im no mo', dey des tek up dey heels an' git w'en dey see 'im a-comin'. De mo' dat Ole Woodpeckeh noduss dat de mo' biggetty (arro- gant) he bin feel. He feel lak he mo' biggeh den Grey Wolf ur Turkic, ur mos' all dey kinfolks. He des feel lak (as if) Ole Grey Wolf's whole hide ain't mo'n big nuff ter mek 'im er thumb- stall. Dat am mos' gin'ly de way, honey, w'en folkses 'gin ter 'mire deyse'fs. De mo' dey 'mire, de mo' dey kin 'mire. Hit's des lak a-larnin' foh ter chaw de 'backy. At the fust, lawsy me ! don't yo' feel mighty peart ! Den yo' feel mighty squawmish in de eenside. Den yo' lay yo'se'f back an' 'low yo' feel mighty mean an' ain't no un gwine ter ketch yo' doin' dat ergin. Ner' day, dough, yo' 'low dat yo' gib hit nurr trial, des foh ter 'vince 7 82 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, yo' mine (to convince your mind). Dat ain't so bad ez yis- tiddy. Nex' day hit mo' betteh yit, an' so hit go 'long twell yo' a-keepin' at hit study, an' so de 'speunce (experience) go 'long, an' de taste foh de 'backy am up an' a-growin', twell at de las' yo' ain't satisfy medout um. Yessir, dat de way ! 'Backy - chawin' an' 'mirin' yo'se'f des de same. Yo' got de hand-glass an' I got de 'backy ; yo' look, 1 chaw ; but hit come ter des de same, an' boun' ter, now an' ebber an' ebber lastin'ly. Dat wuz sholy an' suttinly de way wid Ole Woodpeckeh. 'E cock 'e eye, 'e russle 'e fedders, 'e hole 'e haid on one side, 'e strut w'en 'e walk, an' 'e flop w'en 'e fly. Nemmine, Old Woodpeckeh ! Ole Grey Wolf am a-comin' thu de woods des a-lopin' (running). " Ole Grey Wolf, he come 'long, tuhnin' he projects in he mine, an' he ain't see Ole Woodpeckeh. " All on de suddint him ! Ole Woodpeckeh done hit 'im er clip des back ob de yeah. ' Well ! ' sez Ole Grey Wolf, sez 'e, sorter slackin' up, * de Fall (autumn) hez got hyeah foh sho, an' I bin dat press foh time dat I ain't noduss de fack twell dat maple leaf russle down on me des now.' " Blam ! Ole Woodpeckeh gin 'im nurr clip right on de top o' de haid, an' honeys, hit wuz er hahd (hard) un ! " Ole Grey Wolf don't stop, but he sorter tuhn he eye up ter de trees. * Hit sholy am Fall,' sez 'e, ' kase des now dat mische- vyous ole Miss Bushytail bin crack HI nut an' shy de shell onter me.' " Grashis ! dat mek Ole Woodpeckeh so mad. He fetched er squall, suz, dat wuz wuss'n er ghostes' whustle, an' mek de woods ring ergin. Den he des peck all ober Grey Wolf. " Grey Wolf trot 'long, he do, des ez gay ez de HI fox in de grape-season, an' he 'low hit kinder late in de yeah foh skeetuz (mosquitoes), but he sholy feel um nip wunst ur twiste. " ' Nemmine ! ' he say, * dat wuz er skeeter, but nemmine ' I spoge (suppose) we gwine ter git rid ob um mos' enny night AND OTHER SORCERERS. 83 now ; kase w'en de leabes an' de nuts fall free, den Ole Jack Pros' ain't a-settin' in de holler a-smokin' wilier-trigs, he's a-packin' up he traps ter go a-trabblin'. Yessir, de fros' gwine ter git hyeah soon an' ketch dem lil skeeter-bugs ' (mosquitoes). " Oh ! den Ole Woodpeckeh feel mean, I tell yo'. He des dror off, he do, an' he mek cunjerin' rings, he scratch trick- mahks on de ground, he cut signs on de trees, but they don't none un um faze (trouble) Ole Grey Wolf, mine yo'. He des trot erlong thu dem woodses gwine 'bout he bizniz an' bod- derin* 'bout nuttin. One ur two times he grin dat long, slow- comin' grin dat 'e kin grin, an* wunst he look o'er he shouldeh an' laff. Dat all. He ain't mine dem lil cunjerin' gwines-on. He done fegit (forget) mo' tricks den all Woodpeckeh know. " At de las' Ole Woodpeckeh wuhk hisse'f up so dat he plum crazy a* 'stractid. He fling hisse'f down afront ob Ole Grey Wolf des a-foamin' an' a-bilin'. " | Kill me ! ' sez 'e. ' Kill me ! I setch er big fool I don't want ter lib no longeh. I ain't fitten foh nuttin but buzzahd- meat. I wanter die an' pe'sh offen de face of de yeath. I hate myse'f so bad dat I des afiah (a-fire) ! ' " * Afiah, is yo' ? ' sez Ole Grey Wolf, sez 'e, a-grinnin' an* des skusely a-lettin' up in he pace. ( Den I reckon I got ter putt yo' out,' sez 'e. " Wid dat he up an spit right squar' on Ole Woodpeckeh, an* I lay he wuz put out ! He wuz des nigh onter drownded. Honey, dat sassy buhd's bones wuz wet t'rough. " Ole Grey Wolf, he ain't stop dough ; he des rack erlong easy an 1 mild, an' at de tuhn ob de parf he git plum out o' sight." <( And what became of Woodpecker, Aunt Em'ly ? Did he die ? " " Oh, no, chile ! He ain't ob de dyin' kine. He snuffle an 1 he. sneeze an' he choke an' he gap, an' w'en he git he senses back he strike out foh home. W'en he git dar he hide, and des ez sho ez Ise a-settin' hyeah er libbin' niggeh, he ain't come 8 4 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, out o' dat hole in de tree foh er plum week ! Ole Miss Wood- peckeh, she bin' bleeged to kyar he vittles in ter 'im, ruther den see 'im styarve hisse'f ter death, kase he dat cut up dat he des cudn't come out. I reckon he'd a-bin dar yit ef de baby ain't tuck sick, an' dat baby wuz he fayvorz'fc, so he kim out ter kyore (cure) hit up." Big Angy was incensed at this belittling of her hero, and did not scruple to make her feelings known. In the language of her father, for there are no " swear-words " in the tongue of " OLE MISS WOODPECKER SHE BIN 'BLEEGED TER KYAR. HE VITTLES IN TER 'IM." her Indian mother, she " cussed " the insulting tale, and then made haste to relate one which should offset it. One evening, late, as a hunter and his dog were walking slowly towarc^ home, they saw before them, in the narrow path that wound through the underbrush, a very strange little red man. He seemed to be very feeble, very old, very lame. He told them, in faint accents, that he was far from home, weary almost unto death, and ready to perish from long fasting. The hunter made answer, " If you can reach my lodge you will be welcome there. I have plenty of food, and a bed of AND OTHER SORCERERS. 85 soft furs for you, but it depends on you to get to them. As you see, I have no horse to place at your disposal." The little man replied more cheerfully than he had before spoken that he could not walk, that was quite impossible, but, as he was so small, he thought the dog could carry him ; adding that he saw marks on the dog which showed he had been used to carrying a pack strapped on his back. " That is very true," said the hunter. " When me move our lodge this kind and faithful animal does have a pack strapped THE HUNTER AND THE LITTLE RED MAN. on his back. Also my children ride him as if he were a pony, but I will not call on him to carry other burdens unless he is willing. It is one thing to help the family of which he is a part, quite another to be burdened by a stranger that, too, when he is already weary." Then said the little man, " All that is true and reasonable, I acknowledge that ; but may I be allowed to speak with the dog myself?" 86 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, The hunter gave permission, so the little red man called the dog close to him, and pleaded very touchingly that he might not be left to die alone in the thicket of hunger and fatigue. "Take me," he begged, piteously, "to the hunter's lodge. I am not heavy when I am at my best, and now I scarce weigh more than a flake of wild cotton." The dog was an uncommonly good-natured fellow, so, although weary and footsore himself, he was won to allowing the little old man to ride him to the village. " WITH THAT HE WALKED OFF TO THE OTHER DOGS, WHO RECEIVED HIM WITH SNIFFS AND YELPS OF DERISION." When they arrived, the little man, as he dismounted, whispered in the dog's ear, " You shall lose nothing by this." " Oh ! that is very well," answered the dog. " You are quite welcome to my assistance. I desire no present." With that he walked off to the other dogs, who received him with sniffs and yelps of derision. a We met that old man out yonder, too," said they ; " but AND OTHER SORCERERS. 87 we were not fools enough to become his servants. Oh ! no, not we. We have enough to do to serve those who feed us." This mortified the dog, but he was not more mortified than his master. The people of the village were all jeering at the hunter. " Ah ! " said they, " it was you, was it, to whom it was left to bring that wretched cripple among us ? We saw him, but he was no relation of ours, not even a friend of our friends. With game growing scarcer all the time, did you do well to bring him to eat your children's meat ? " This made the hunter feel badly, but he did not let his guest know it. He fed the little man, he gave him a place by the fire, he gave him a bed of furs. The next morning, early, the little man awakened his host and said " Owing to your kindness I am quite well again. Now I must be gone. One last favour I ask, will you and your dog walk a short distance with me ? " To this the hunter agreed readily. He was glad that the guest of whom his friends had so low an opinion would soon be gone. He first set before him what food could be found, then called the dog. When the little old man had eaten, off the three of them went, he leading at a pace with which the hunter and the dog could scarce keep up. " Stop ! stop ! Grandfather," cried the hunter, after a little while. " I perceive that you are making a mistake. You are going the way whence we came yesterday. Let us retrace our steps, before we go farther out of your way." u Come yet a few more steps this way," said the little old man. So they went on again a long way. Once again the hunter called out u Stop ! stop ! Grandfather. You are making labour for yourself. The place where we found you is not far from here." 88 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Come yet a few steps more," urged the little man. So they went on again until they came to the place where they had met the evening previous. "Stop! stop! Grandfather," cried the hunter. "We are on the spot where we found you yesterday." " That is true," said the little man. " It is where I meant to bring you. Now, we will stop and talk a little. You only of all your tribe and relationship have I found worthy of any friendship or consideration. I think better of your dog than I do of your chief or doctor. For this reason I mean to confer benefits on you two that they may not even dream of gaining. I will make of you whatsoever you choose ; I will make of your dog whatsoever he may choose after you are done. You two only befriended me, you two only will I befriend." So saying, he shot up before them exceedingly tall and terrible. Nevertheless, as they were not of the kind that quails, they looked on him undauntedly. "Wish ! " commanded he who had been the little man, im- patiently. " Oh, great chief, make me the greatest of hunters ! " cried the hunter. " You shall be not only the greatest slayer of beasts, but also the greatest slayer of men," was the answer. " So I say, so shall it be." Then turned he who had been the little man to the dog. "What do you choose?" asked he. "Will you be the doctor yourself and turn out that old weed-eater who holds the place ? " This the dog did not care for. " I have been treated dis- respectfully," said he, "by the other animals. Wolves have taunted me for carrying burdens, young dogs have scorned my slowness, beavers have told me my teeth were rotten as last year's briers. Make me strong enough to be terrible to them all." AND OTHER SORCERERS. " Will you be a mountain lion ? " asked he who had been little. The dog joyfully answered he would like that above all things. "Then a lion you are. So I say it, so shall it be," said he who had been the little red man. After this the man shrank to the size he had been when the hunter and the dog first saw him. Immediately he took affectionate leave of them and ordered them to go home and wait patiently for their heart's desire to come to them. The hunter and the dog started home, but after taking a few steps they looked back. No little red man was in sight, but a great woodpecker rose from the grass and flew away. " This is strange. Where has our friend gone ? " began the hunter to his old dog, but he did not finish what he was going to say. He looked into the usually mild and friendly eyes of his companion, they were changed to great yellow moons ; his stature also was greatly increased. Awestruck, the hunter shrank back : at the same moment, with a fierce and terrible cry, the mighty lion dog no longer bounded into the thicket and never again was seen by his former master. The hunter made haste homeward and reached his lodge before the village was astir. He laid down and pretended to sleep late. When he finally rose up, his friends told him his guest was gone, without leave-taking. " Worse than that," they added, " he has stolen your dog, the faithful friend of your children." The hunter heard them gravely, he said nothing. He thought of his dog's wish and its fulfilment. He made ready his arrows, he tried his bow-cord, he had prepared for him a " A GREAT WOOD- PECKER ROSE FROM THE GRASS." 90 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, quiver of panther skin. When all was done, he started out to hunt, but before he went he said to the people 11 Lend me many horses. Game is not scarce where I go. I intend to load all the horses I take with as much as they can carry." The people thought he was bewitched by the little red man, his relations were sorrowful, but he was so persuasive that he had his way with them. They went along with him and saw his wonderful success. After that, he always brought plenty for all when every one else failed. When there was a war with enemies, he went to battle and all fell before him. When the old chief died he took his place and ruled many years. During all that time he kept secret the cause of his success, but when he was about to die he told his sons as a warning to them to invite good fortune home and not drive it to the lodge of others. Aunt Em'ly, industriously dabbing her toes against the floor in a vain endeavour to rock her chair a little, took her mind off her work long enough to say with fervour. " Datam deputtiest ob all de putty tales dat I donehyeah yo ? tell, Miss Boogarry. Hit done tuck all de shine offen dat lil (little) un dat I muse de chile wid. I 'clar' I is shame dat I tole tale 'tall' fo' yo'." " Huh ! " began Tow Head, with a toss of her chin, but her well-meant protest against Aunt Em'ly's humility was never allowed utterance. Granny knew by sad and oft-repeated ex- perience the lengths to which her young friend's candour could be carried ; she knew, too, something of the magnitude of Big Angy's temper when roused, therefore she hastened to get command of the conversation herself. u Dat's er mighty lubly tale yo' tole ; Miss Boogarry, so wuz de one yo' told, Aunt Em'ly, but, Ian' o' Goshen ! 'pears lak de mo' tale dat I hyeah, de mo' dat I hones fong) foh ter hyeah. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 91 Ef one ur turr ob yo' folks don't whirl in an' tell nurr tale, I boun' dat I don't get er wink o' sleep dis night, I'll be dat wuhkt up wid a-wishin' an' a-honin'." 11 Ise run out," declared Aunt Em'ly. "No use a-axin' me," giggled Aunt Mary. U I done tole all I knowed in des no time." " 'Tain't my tuhn dis ebenin'," mumbled Aunt Mymee, looking stubborn and puffing smoke till Tow Head, sitting on her knee, appeared in the midst of clouds like a cherub per- petrated by an imitator of the Old Masters. " I hez ter putt my pennunce (dependence) in yo' ergin, Miss Boogarry." When Big Angy was in a talkative mood she enjoyed listen- ing to the sound of her own voice too well to coyly withhold it. The mood was on her then, and she at once began as glibly as if she were praising her wares to a customer, on How THE REDBIRD CAME BY HIS BRILLIANT PLUMAGE. One time when Woodpecker was far from home and making medicine, a plain bird, with whom he was very little acquainted, came flying to him in great haste and distress. " Fly home ! " cried the plain bird in great excitement. " Fly home ! " Your enemies are there before you ! They seek to destroy your children ! Your wife can do nothing, her threats and entreaties are of no avail ! " When Woodpecker heard these words he did not even stop to thank the bird who sent them, faster than the wind, faster than the lightning he went home. There he saw a sight most distressing. His wife, wounded and bleeding, was flying about the entrance to their house, and by her desperate efforts just managed to keep Blue Jay and his companion in wickedness, a great snake, from going in to where the children were. This was an awful experience for the poor mother, for she had no magical power, but it was nothing to 92 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, Old Woodpecker once he was on the ground. In a moment he drove away his enemies with marks of his displeasure upon them which they would carry for many a day. When they were out of sight he went in and comforted the children and healed the hurts his wife had received from Blue Jay. This done, he looked around for the plain bird, but saw him not, and, not knowing the place of his abode, could not seek him. That was nothing ! Woodpecker made circles and sang songs and spoke incanta- tions, and so summoned the plain bird into his presence. The plain one flew directly to the presence of Woodpecker, and was so simple that he knew not that he had been sum- moned by magic. When he arrived he was confused and abashed, and knew not what to say. He wished to go away again, but Woodpecker detained him, made him very welcome, and praised him highly. 11 What, benefactor of my family, do you wish as a gift ? " Woodpecker asked. Plain Bird said he wished for nothing. Woodpecker insisted that he must receive some gift of his own choosing. Often Plain Bird refused to ask for anything. Often Woodpecker insisted on his asking. Finally the plain one said "Oh, mighty conjuror, I am very tired of this dull-coloured coat I wear ! The dust of the earth is not less pleasing to the eye. I should like to have all over me fine red feathers like those on your head." " It shall be as you wish," declared Woodpecker, pleased that he had compelled a choice of favours. Then he took Plain Bird to a secret place. Arrived there, he scratched his own wing till a drop of blood came. " See," said he to Plain Bird, " I shed my blood for you, so strong is my gratitude." AND OTHER SORCERERS. 93 So saying, he took the drop and mixed it with water and a red herb that was medicine. With this mixture he painted Plain Bird. Then he conducted him to a pond, and bade him look at himself. Plain Bird looked and saw that he was a red bird, 1 glowing, brilliant, beautiful. He thought of his grey little wife, and most humbly entreated that Woodpecker beautify her also. " Conduct her hither. Something may be done," said Woodpecker. Redbird flew away and found his wife and brought her to be painted with the blood and medicine of Woodpecker. Alas ! there was but little of that magical paint left. For this reason she is not so gay as her mate, but still she has bright colour enough to do very well and make her think, as often as she trims her feathers, of the grateful heart and magical skill of old Woodpecker. The child clapped her hands with delight as Big Angy con- cluded, and her elders children as they were of a larger growth were moved to follow her example. " Oh ! " exclaimed the little one with a long-drawn breath, " that was be-u-tiful ! That was better than a rabbit story. Couldn't you tell another, Mrs. Boogarry ? " Mrs. " Boogarry " couldn't, or, what amounted to the same thing, wouldn't. She nipped her pipe-stem with her teeth like a snapping turtle taking hold of a stick, and shook her head without speaking. " I des now thunk ob one ! " announced Granny, with the surprised and joyful air of one who had come unexpectedly on a long-lost piece of silver. " Fetch um out, Aunt Jinny, fetch um out dis minnit, les* hit slip yo' membunce afo' yo' knows hit," said Aunt Em'ly, 1 The red-bird or scarlet tanager, a variety of the oriole, is entirely of a brilliant scarlet colour. 94 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, slipping off her honourable but uneasy perch, and making her- self comfortable on a stool. Granny, nothing loth, told How BLACKSNAKE MADE TROUBLE FOR WOODPECKER AND HIMSELF. " One time, w'en Ole Woodpeckeh went a-santerin' home, arter sundown, he hyeah de wussest howdy-do (riot) dat eber wuz in de worl.' He kine o' stiffen hisse'f up w'en de soun' strak 'im an' mend he step. " Toreckly, he hyeah he ole 'ooman des a-hollerin* an' a- bawlin', an' he putt in he bes' licks an' git home in des no time. " Dar he see all de neighbehs 'semmle tergedder, some un um a-scolin' an' a-miratin' (admiring) an' a-chatterin' an' a-fussin' roun' Miss Woodpeckeh, an' some un um a-dabbin' an' a-swoopin' at er big brack snake dat wuz a-layin' at de foot ob de tree all budge out an' fit ter bust. " * Wut de matteh hyeah ? ' ax Ole Woodpeckeh. " Ev'body pint at de snake an' shake dey haid mighty sollum. " Ole Woodpeckeh, he count de chilluns. " ' Whah de baby ? ' he ax. " Dey shake dey haid ergin an' pint at de snake some mo 1 . " Dat 'nuff foh Ole Woodpeckeh. He ain't stop ter ax Miss Woodpeckeh ter stop hollerin', he ain't smack de chilluns foh gittin' in de way, he ain't want ter know ob de neighbehs ef de cat got dey tongue, nur nuttin. He des mek one grab at dat snake blam ! one eye out a-ready ! Nurrgrab ! blam ! turr eye out ! Den he cotch um by de tail an' hole um up an' shake um, an', bress de Lawd ! dat baby-woodpeckeh fall outen he jaw ! " Here Granny paused, knocked the ashes out of her pipe, blew in the bowl, shut one eye, and pretended to be looking for obstructions in the stem. " Is that all ? " asked Tow Head, impatiently. " Hole on, honey, hole on," said Grarny, placidly, the while AND OTHER SORCERERS. 95 she hunted for her pocket a cumbrous affair not sewed in her gown, but dangled between it and her petticoats, and kept from falling to earth by two long strings sewed to its top and passed several times around her waist. " Your tobacco is not in your large pocket. You know well enough it is in your small pouch at your belt," cried Tow Head, vigorously kicking her heels against Aunt Mymee in her impatience. " So 'tis, honey, so 'tis," said Granny, regarding Aunt Mymee's vicarious punishment with complacency. " Is that all ? " " No, honey, Ise yit got de fine-cut dat yo' pa brung me mm town. Dar 'tis, on de shelf, yondah." " I mean, you hateful old thing, is that all about Wood- pecker's baby ? " " Shuh ! " exclaimed Granny, beginning to puff at the newly- filled pipe, " is dat tork mannehs ter de ole folks ? Dat ain't de way I wuz larnt w'en I wuz young." Tow Head turned to Aunt Mymee in a fury of impatience, " Do you know ? " she questioned. " Ef all yo' got on yo' mine," said Aunt Mymee, looking at Granny and speaking with deliberate impressiveness, " am foh ter git dis chile so wuhkt up dat she kyarn't sleep dis night, I reck'n I mought betteh tote huh right up ter de House." " Ez I wuz a-sayin', honey," said Granny, sweetly, to the child, and taking no notice of Aunt Mymee's remark, " w'en dat triflin' ole pipe o' mine quit a-suckin' de, baby-woodpeckeh fell outen de jaws oh Bracksnake, but de po' HI crittur wuz done die stone daid. Nemmine ! nemmine, dough ! Wood- peckeh mo'n er match foh dat, an' so I tells you'. W'en he see de baby wuz shoh nuff daid, he go an' he git out de medsum (medicine, or magic) pipe an' he puff an' he suck an' he draw an' he fill dat lil daid woodpeckeh full ob de smoke. W'en dat smoke fill lil woodpeckeh he 'mence ter come ter life. 96 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, He stretch he wings fust an' kick one laig, den he flinch he tail an' dror up bofe laigs, den he shet an' open he bill an' dror up he claws. Arter dat he gap big an' sneege a-kwisha ! Dis done, he wuz well, an' he fly up ter he mammy. "Den wuz de time dat Ole Woodpeckeh tuhn he 'tention 'pun Bracksnake ter gib 'im er good sottlemint (settlement). He kyarn't kill dat villyun out an' out, kase he got cunjerin' sense in 'im too, but, Ian' o' love ! he kin fill 'im wid tricks (spells), ez full ez de shucks (dried maize leaves) whah de hogs lay is full ob fleas. He scratch that Bracksnacke down de back, an' he blow hot on 'im an' dry 'im up lak er last yeah's milk- weed, den 'e tuhn 'im aloose, an' er fine sight he wuz ! " Sence dat day dat Bracksnake ain't no mo' 'count. He own folks ain't count kin wid 'im. To be shoh, he cunjer back he eyesight, ur mo' 'tickler, (or, what is more) he knowed de weed dat kin do dat, an' he cunjer de weed ter cum unter 'im an' kyore (cure) 'im, but he ain't got de sense ter cunjer back he strenk ur he good looks. Fum dat day unter dis he des wriggle roun' in de grass, he don't climb trees no mo' ur run fas' 'long de aige (edge) ob de road lak de res' o' he fambly, an' folkses wen dey see 'im, dey des poke fun at 'im stiddier (instead of) gittin' skeered. Dey let on, dey do, dat dey s'picion some triflin' gal done drap 'im offen 'er laig, an' des foh sport dey calls 'im de gyarteh (garter) snake. Oh, yes ! dat's so, po' lil wizzle (poor little withered up thing) up t'ing. Ise seen 'im, menny an' menny's de time, an' so I boun' hez all de res' ob yo'. 'Tain't but des 'fo' fros' dat I brung one up, a-twustin' ev'whichaways, on de eend o' my stick, w'en I wuz a-pokin' in de daid leabes a-searchin' foh warnits (walnuts)." " I should hate," said Tow Head, uneasily, " to get one of those things on by mistake. I'm always dropping my garters and picking them up again. I might pick up a snake, if it looked just like one. Granny, do you know if they have buckles on the ends of them ? n AND OTHER SORCERERS. 97 " No, dey don't," said Aunt Mymee, emphatically. " Dar, now, Aunt Jinny, des look wut yo' done ! I 'low yo' hafter tell nurr tale ter git de tase (taste) ob dis un outen de chile's mouf." " Yo' ain't skeered, is yo', honey ? " " N-no," answered the child, doubtfully, "but maybe I will be if you do not tell another story. Sometimes I get scared after I go to bed, when the lights are out and there seems to be such a lot of dark. Those times, the stories you've heard seem to be coming at you if they are not nice." " Den I gwine ter tell 'bout de pahty (party) dat Ole Wood- peckeh wuz 'tendin' wunst (once attended). De pahty, honey, whah he play on de fiddle up at Perarer-Chickin's house. Mebbe yo' don't keer foh dat tale, do ugh ? " Tow Head did care, and said so, to Aunt Mymee's disgust, so Granny began " One time, Ole Perarer-Chicken, he gin er big pahty. All de buhds dey hed er eenvite, clar down ter Cow-buntin* an' clar up ter Ole Woodpeckeh hisse'f. Dem eenvites dey kick up er heap er ter-do-unce (preparation) mungs de buhds. Dey pick de tangles outen dey pin-fedders an' smoove dey quills an' ile dey backs an' breas'es twell dey shine lak er pond in de sun. Wen dey git primp ter dey mine, dey sot out, Ole Woodpeckeh lil arter de res'. Time wuz w'en 'e wouldn't a-gone er step in dat 'rection, but dat wuz 'fo' Ole Perarer-Chicken gun 'im warnin' dat Ole Miss Owl, she 'low she like mighty well ter hab er mess ob young woodpeckehs in 'er pot-pie on de table w'en she git up de suppeh foh de weddin' ob 'er oldes' gal. Ole Woodpeckeh, he wuz much erbleeged foh dat piece o' news, an' he keep one eye out twell arter de weddin'. He ain't ne'er fegit dat good tuhn (turn), an' mm dat day fo'th he pass de time o' day an' ax, ( How am yo' good healt', neighbeh ? ' w'en dey meet. " Ez I wuz a-ree-mockin' (remarking), he went ter de pahty. Hit bin hilt out in one o' dem lil open place mungs de woods, 8 98 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, an* wuz all green wid grass, an' de grass speckled up wid berbenyums (verbenas) an' sweet-willyums, an' de likes, an' de place wuz sorter fence-in wid wild-rose bushes an' de hazel-bresh dat sorter hug up ergin de plum trees an' saplin's. Hit wuz er mighty fav'able spot, honey, an' sides de res' dey wuz er lil cl'ar runnin' crik ganderin' 'crost one cornder. " So, den ! Dey all got dar, an' dey wuz turr'ble p'lite ter un nurr an' complymint dey looks, an' ax arter de chilluns. " Arter w'iles, w'en dey done nibble de grass seeds an' gobble de groun'-churries an' snap up de bugs an' hoppehgrasses an' bo' (bore) down in de groun' an' git er wuhm ur two, an' grab 'bout fibe ur six minnuz (minnows) out en de crik, 'corjin' ez dey tas-tes calls foh, dey all whirl in an ax Ole Perarer-Chicken fob ter darnce dat darnce ob hissen dat dey hyeah (heard) tell on so much. " Now, dat darnce wuz er sorter er cunjerin' darnce, an' e'en Ole Woodpeckeh des natchelly hone (longed) foh ter see 'im darnce hit. " Perarer-Chicken, he ain't nowise sot on showin' off dat darnce. u * I ain't got no moosic,' sez 'e, ' an', in co'se, I kyarn't mek out medout none. W'en I wuz young,' sez 'e, ' an' not so fat an' pussy ' (pursy, plump), sez 'e, ' I c'd sing me a little chune ter darnce by des ez I went erlong, but I kyarn't do dat no mo',' sez 'e, a-shakin' he haid an' a-lookin' sollum. ' Ise gittin' ole an' tizzicky, now. Ise 'bleege ter 'noledge dat.' " * I kin play yo' er chune dat I 'low yo' kin mek out by,' sez Ole Woodpeckeh, speakin' up mighty quick an' smilin'. * In co'se, I ain't no great shakes,' sez 'e, ( but I kin mek out ter pick er chune an' I'll do hit, rudder'n see all dese hyeah frens go home dis'pinted,' sez 'e. * I'm got bofe er fiddle an' er whustle,' sez 'e. " * Le's hab de whustle ! ' sez de comp'ny, speakin' up mighty f'erce. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 99 " ( Yo's mighty kine ter gib ch'ice,' sez Perarer-Chicken. 'Ise sho' I kyarn't darnce ter no whustle.' " De facks o' de marter am, he don't wanter darnce 'tall, but he don' lak ter 'fuse at he own pahty. 'Sidesen dat, he know dat whustle am dangersome. " ( De fiddle gits hit,' sez de ladies an' gentermens. u ' Ef I mus', I mus', I reckon,' sez Perarer-Chicken, ( but ez yo' 'gree, le's hab de fiddle. De fiddle sorter he'ps out, but de whustle am diffunt' " De Lawd know, he don't wanter darnce ter dat whustle, kase hit wuss des er full-size witch foh dobbilmmt. Hit bin mek outen de big eagle wing-bone an' hit des fit ter bust wid cunjurin'. Wen Ole Woodpeckeh blow on hit, he blow all manneh ob chahms right inter de noggins (heads) an' bones ob' de ones dat hyeah 'im blow. " So dey all know an' dey 'gree on de fiddle, an' dey tork back an' fo'th twell dey all out o' bref, an' den dey sen' Redbuhd arter de fiddle." " I never saw a redbird that could carry a fiddle, Granny." " Ef yo' keep yo' eye on um, honey, de charnces am dat yo' will see hit, kase dis hyeah fiddle ain't no biggeh'n de eend j'int ob de ole cat's tail. Hit wuz," said Granny, evidently drawing on her imagination for the child's amusement, " mek outen de Hies' gode (gourd) dat e'er growed on de vines. One side wuz hack off an' strung 'cross wid de innards ob er buffler-cricket (buffalo-cricket) foh fiddle-strings, an' ha'r offen er flutterbug (butterfly) foh bowstrings, w'ich de same bow wuz er fishbone. " Well den ! Quail, Ole Perarer-Chicken's grandarter, whustle de chune dat he wanter darnce by ez well ez she km twell Ole Woodpeckeh, he cotch um. Den cr-r-r-eek, s-s-s-quee-ee-k ! squeak ! he draw de bow 'crost de strings an' den de chune, hit come des a-trabblin', an' Ole Perarer- Chicken, he darnce an' he darnce, twell he laigs mos' fit ter drap off, an' dey all mek de gret miration an' gigglin' an' dey 100 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, DE BUHDS. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 101 all mought a-bin dar yit a-joyin' deyse'fs ef dey hain't come er crickle-crackle in de bresh, an' den w'en dey tuhn foh ter look ping ! an' dat wuz de fust shot de w'ite man fiah off in dis paht ob de kyentry. " De buhds, dey all cut out foh home, liketty-switch (rapidly), m'dout a-sayin' * good ebenin',' ur how dey bin 'joy deyse'fs, ur nuttin, an' hit tuck urn long time ter fine out dat de ruction wuzzent some ob Ole Woodpeckeh's cunjerin' tricks. Lan' o' Gosha' ! Ole Woodpeckeh, he run wid de bes', wid he fiddle un'neat' he wing. " De bow," continued Granny, after a pause which seemed interminable to her listeners, " he drapped in de bresh some'ers. " Arter dat, dat same ole gun wuhkt er heap o' mischief, an' arter w'iles, Ole Woodpeckeh he stop gittin' de credick ob hit. All de same dough, dey ain't bin sech er mighty menny wood- peckehs kilt. W'en dey wuz, two free w'ite man gotter pay foh hit. Ef foolin' am did wid er woodpeckeh, de one dat do hit am de one dat got de bill ter pay, an', genterfolk, cunjerers* bills am long ones." " So dey be," said Big Angy, with unction, "an* dat mek I t'ink 'bout nurr tale." " Ef yo' please, Miss Boogarry," said Aunt Mymee, " let dat tale keep de w'iles yo' 'fresh yo'se'f wid Aunt Jinny's pop-cawn an' honey. I boun' ter kyar dis chile ter baid, else OleMistis, she'll git arter me. Oh, yes, honey ! Come 'long putty, now" this to her reluctant charge " an' I'll singyo' er woodpeckeh song." The little girl went along " putty," and, as a reward, heard this touching ballad " Woodpeckeh tappin' on de maple bahk. Miss Wuhm hyeah 'im. Hahk ! oh, hahk! Miss Wuhm quiled (coiled) on de parlour flo', Woodpeckeh bustin' thu de entry do' ! Good-bye, Miss Wuhm, yo' boun' ter git er fall! Woodpeckeh swallered huh, petticuts an' all ! " VIII. HOW WOODPECKER TOOK A BOY TO RAISE AND WAS DISGUSTED WITH THE JOB. ALSO, HOW HE SET OUT TO CHARM GRANDFATHER RATTLE- SNAKE, TOGETHER WITH A HISTORY OF HIS NECKLACE OF BEARS' CLA W r S, AND AN ACCOUNT OF HIS A 1 TEMPT TO DESTRO Y RABBITS CUNJER- BAG. IG ANGY had been telling another story of Woodpecker and boasting of his power , "des ez ef he wuz huh own kinfolks," as Aunt Mary privately commented. Once, she told the company, a band of people were fleeing from their enemies and, as they went along in great haste, they dropped a baby-boy and passed on, not per- ceiving their loss. OLE RABBIT. Woodpecker heard the little fellow cry and, not wishing to see him killed by the enemies of his people or eaten by wolves or panthers, he carried him home and brought him up among his own children. He taught the boy many things and treated him so well that it was a wonder that he was not perfectly happy, but this he was not. When he found that he was different from the children of Woodpecker, nothing would satisfy him but knowing who he was and how he came to be where he was. After listening to many entreaties, Wood- pecker told him all there was to tell, adding OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO. 103 " Be content here. I have made a son of you. Day by day, as you can understand, I will teach you my wisdom. Seek not your own people, as you evidently wish to do ; they are not a brave people no mighty warriors are amongst them they are not a wise people their counsellors count for nothing and their sorcerers are as little children before me. They are poor, they are miserable, they are despised by their acquaintances. Seek them not." This was good advice, but the boy, now grown to be a tall youth, would not heed it ; he was determined to go to his own kind. " WOODPECKER TOOK A BOY TO RAISE AND WAS DISGUSTED WITH THE JOB." " Then go back to them as you came from them ! " cried Woodpecker, in a rage. Immediately the young man shrank to the size of a baby and never grew any larger, as can be proved, for, after Woodpecker drove him off, he wandered all over the earth, telling of his misfortunes and asking vainly for tidings of his people. Aunt Mymee was tired of Woodpecker, and had made up her mind to " settle dat braggin'," so, with a suavity of manner somewhat at variance with the malice twinkling in her eye, she said 104 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Hit's des pop inter my 'membunce dat in de time pass by, Ise hyurn (heard) er couple ob tales 'bout Ole Woodpeckeh my own se'f." " Le's hab um," said her friends, quailing, they knew not why. " De fust am 'bout Ole Woodpeckeh an' how he got he come- uppunce x wid Ole Gran'daddy Rattlesnake. In de ole times, yo' mine, Ole Woodpeckeh, he suttinly hed mo'n he fa'r shear ob truck an' luck, but, suz ! foh all dat he ain't out an' out sati'fy wid de gwines-on in de worl'. Ef yo' tek er long walk, Gord know dat er chunk o' grabble boun' ter wuhk hit way eenside de fines' shoe, an' dat de way Ole Woodpeckeh foun' hit. Thesso ! thesso ! (That's so) an' de one blisteh dat de grabble raise mek de feelin's ob de man dat got shoes wuss den de feelin's ob de one dat 'bleege to go bar'foot. De blisteh on Ole Woodpeckeh heel wuz de 'membunce ob Ole Gran'daddy Rattlesnake an' de big name Ole Gran'daddy got. All on de suddint he mek up he mine dat 'e gwine ter cunjer Ole Gran'daddy an' den, w'en he got 'im down unner foot, he gwine ter pull out he haht (heart) an' gin it ter he cousin ter kyore up (cure up) er bad cough she got." "He don't hatter hab Ole Gran'dad foh dat," interrupted Granny. " Enny rattlesnake haht'll kyore up (heart will cure) de breas'-kimplaint (consumption) ef yo' t'ar hit outen de body an' swaller hit down, p'int fust, w'iles de life am yit in hit." " Dat fack I ain' 'sputin'," said Aunt Mymee, with a frown, " but 'tain't hyeah nurr dar in dis case. Ole Woodpeckeh, he hone arter gittin' de haht ob Gran'daddy Rattlesnake an' he ain't gwine ter putt up wid nuttin else, ef he kin he'p hisse'f. Dat am," she corrected herself, " nuttin in de shapes ob er haht, dough, truf ter tell, he honed arter de rattles on Gran'- daddy tail de mos'es." 1 Equalled or come up to. The formation of verbal nouns in this very peculiar negro dialect distinctly indicates the Red Indian agglutinate combinations. C. G. L. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 105 <( I reck'n, den, he mus' a-bin pester wid misery in de haid (headache)," said Aunt Mary, in a tone of sympathy. "Ef yo' w'ar de rattles ob er rattlesnake in yo' ha'r, yo' ain't ne'er gwine ter hab dat misery." " Er cabbage-leaf is mos' ez good," amended Aunt Em'ly. "No, 'tain't," maintained Aunt Mary, stoutly. " Lak-all- wise, de skin ob er rattlesnake wo' round de wais' keep off de rheumatiz an' mek yo' swif ' in de foot." " I kyarn't set hyeah twell mawnin' " (morning), grumbled Aunt Mymee. " Leggo holts (Let go hold) an' lemme tell my tale ter Miss Boogarry. Arter dat, yo' kin brag on rattlesnake grease an' hide foh rheumatiz twell yo' tongues is all wo' ter frazzles, 1 ef yo' am a mine ter. Miss Boogarry, ez I wuz a-sayin', de rattles wuz de mainest p'int, kase evvy rattle stan' foh er in'my (an enemy) dat Gran'dad kilt, an' dey wuz sech er lot ob um dat yo' kyarn't skusely count iim. Dat Ole Gran'daddy chilluns, dey feel stuck-up an' 'bove de neighbehs ef dey hab six ur seben rattles, but dat much ain't count in de crowd on Ole Rattlesnake tail. Ef Ole Woodpeckeh c'd git dem dey'd count ez ef dey wuz he in'my (his enemy) made off wid. " T'inkin' 'bout all dis pester 'im mighty much, so dat 'e don't git no good res', an', ez de cool wedder corned on an' de fros' 'gun ter nip, he git de noshin dat 'e gittin' stiff in de j'ints an' dat 'e des 'bleeged ter hab Old Gran'dad fat foh ter soople um. Sidesen dat, he need de skin ter mek er queeveh (quiver), kase de arrers kep' in dat queeveh fly furder an' kill quickeh den urr arrers. Oh ! he des gotter hab (must have) dat sly an' dry ole snake. 'Pun dis 'count 'e don't eat nuttin, an' 'e go 'way 'lone an' t'ink heap an' smoke yarb an' drink bitteh watteh. 2 " Dat all done, 'e set out. " He go lil way, den Ole Owl come flyin' low an' ( hoo ! hoo ! * " * G'long back,' say Owl, ' w'iles yo' kin.' 1 Frazzles. Frayed bits, distorted pieces. Cf. German Fratze. 2 An Indian penance or preparation for exertion of magical power. 106 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Woodpeckeh say, ( 'Sense me dis time. Tuhnin' back am bad luck.' " Owl flewed on an' he say, ' boo ! hoo ! ' dis time. "Ole Woodpeckeh, he tek er big medsum-pipe an' 'e git some de ashes out o' hit afront ob 'im. ' Dar now ! ' sez 'e, 'dat mek all safe.' " Den 'e go on. " Bimeby, lil rabbit cut 'cross de road. He don't look todes Woodpeckeh 'tall, but, all de same, he holler, ' Go back ! ' " Woodpeckeh git down in de road an' scratch crossways ob de rabbit-track an' spit in um, den 'e go on wunst mo'. " Arter w'iles, er brack wolf jump outen de bresh an' howl lak 'e wuz a-howlin' foh de daid (dead). " Dat mek Ole Woodpeckeh sweat. Den sholy he'd a-gorned back ef 'twuzzent too late, but he wuz right inter de Rattlesnake Kyentry. u Dar in de sottlemint he see heap ob Ole Gran'daddy Rattlesnake folks dozin' afo' dey front do's. Heap un um, too, he see des lettin' on dey dozin' w'iles dey wuz r'aly projeckin' cu'i's (curious) t'ings. He go on a-parst dem, Ole Woodpeckeh did, an' kep' on a-gwine, twell 'e git ter er high place 'twixt de fawks (forks) ob er crick. On dat high place wuz er oak tree, de onlest tree dat grow up dar, urr enny urr t'ing too, kase e'en de grass an' weeds wuz all daid an' bio wed erway. Up dar, at de foot ob dat tree, wuz whah Ole Gran'daddy lib. " Ole Woodpeckeh, he blowed in he whustle, de chahm whustle mek outen eagle-bone, an' dat he do soster (so as to) let Ole Gran'daddy know he a-comin'. Den he go sucklin' (circling) roun' dat tree, mekin' cunjer-lines dat kin tie down ghostes an' choke debbils. " Gran'daddy Rattlesnake, he was stretch out on de groun', a-sunnin' hisse'f, an' he ain't go ter de bodderashun ter quile (coil) hisse'f, e'en w'en he hyeah dem awful gwines-on. He stretch hisse'f lil mo' an' gap wid he mouf. AND OTHER SORCERERS. 107 " Seein' dat, Ole Woodpeckeh, he shoot at Ole Gran'daddy. He shoot tree arrers des ez fas' ez he kin pull de bow-string, an' dem arrers dey wuzzent des common arrers ne'er ; dey wuz chahm, dem arrers wuz. u De fust two Ole Gran'dad ketch on dem two big toofses o' hissen dat stick up des lak two sickles in de mouf. " Dem arrers, dey des fall into sawdust. " De turr one oh, my ! dat wuz de one dat wukht de sorrer. Ole Gran'daddy swaller um an' den spit um up ergin so f'erce dat hit flewed into Ole Woodpeckeh 's eyes, an' putt um ri' spang out ! " Oh, den wuzzent Ole Woodpeckeh in er mighty bad fix ! " Ole Gran'daddy, he r'ar up he haid an' he holler out " ' Now, Ole Imp'ence, I gwine ter swaller yo' ! Whooh ! Yo' gwine ter be medsum (medicine ; z>., a charm) foh er long w'iles an' yo' gwine ter fetch me nurr rattle, too.' " Hit 'u'd all a-tuhned out dataway, too, ef Ole Woodpeckeh ole 'ooman, wut wuz a-skulkin' arter him all de time, ain' whirl in an' hit Ole Gran'daddy sech er lick dat hit mek' er dent in 'e haid dat am dar ter dis day, an' all de chilluns dat he hab sence dat tuck arter 'im too, an' dey got dat se'f same dent, ez I done see myse'f an' yo' done see yo'se'f." " Troof, too ! I done see um, heaps o' times," commented Aunt Em'ly. " Dat clip sorter stunded (stunned) Ole Gran'daddy, an' dat gun Miss Woodpeckeh de chance ter git J er ole man off outen dat kyentry an' home wunst mo'. " Ole Woodpeckeh, he," continued Aunt Mymee, with a wave of her hand to impose silence on Big Angy, who showed a disposition to interrupt, u soon kyored up dem bline eyes, an' see, des ez good ez (as well as) e'er he done ; 'twuzzen't much ob er job, ne'er, kase Miss Woodpeckeh, she done busted de chahm dat Ole Gran'daddy wuz a-makin' w'en she flewed in 'twix' um an' hit Ole Gran'daddy dat smack. So, all tuhn out berry well ; io8 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, but foh all dat, I lay yo' could trabble cl'ar 'crost de Rattlesnake Kyentry an' ne'er ketch Ole Woodpeckeh nur none ob he chil- luns ur kinfolks in dar. No, suz ! Ole Woodpeckeh ain't yit fegit de way dem ole bline eyes hurted. Mo'n dat, ef Ole Woodpeckeh hisse'f, ur enny ob de folks, ketch sight ob er rattlesnake, dey des holler an' screech an' cry an' skim round." Aunt Mymee ceased her recital, and applied herself very seriously to the removal of some obstruction in the neighbour- hood of her tympanum, employing for that purpose a cotton- wood splinter and a succession of winks and grimaces that lifted every facial muscle out of its lawful position. Big Angy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like " big lie " ; but Aunt Mymee was a witcher- woman, and not to be openly denounced. The others laughed and applauded with well-feigned enthu- siasm ; but they were between two fires, and anxious to retire to safer ground. Aunt Em'ly rushed to the rescue of her friends with great gallantry. " Dat sorter 'minds me, I des dunno des how," she said, " ob de tale 'bout how Ole Woodpeckeh git dat putty necklash ob b'ar-claws ; but, arter Aunt Mymee a-holdin' forth so fine, I mos' 'feard ter tell hit." " Go 'long, Aunt Em'ly, go 'long," said Granny, encourag- ingly ; " we kyarn't hab too much ob er good t'ing. De mo' I hyeah ob dem good ole tales, de mo' dat I wanter hyeah, an' I boun' dat de res' ob de ladies feels des de same prezack way." " Dat my feelin's ! " cried Aunt Mary, giggling in anticipa- tion of the amusement her friend was sure to furnish. Big Angy nodded. Aunt Mymee removed the splinter from her ear, and seemed to nod slightly. " In de good ole times, w'en all de folks an' beasteses use ter scuffle foh er libbin' des 'bout de same, de beasteses, dey wuz a-merryin' (marrying), right an' lef , all de time, des ez dey tuck er shine (took a fancy), medout a-stickin' ter dey own AND OTHER SORCERERS. 109 kine, ez dey does dese days. Dey merry, merry, merry, de wolf an' de deer, de squir'l an' de fox, de b'ar an' de folks, de niggeh an' de 'possum dar now ! hit 'pear lak de niggeh an' de 'possum, dey dataway yit 'bout jinedin' (joining) ; but hit diffunt in de respex dat one git chawed up dese days. Oh, yes ! in de good time dey all mix up lak de mo'nehs (mourners) at de camp-meetin'. In dem times, w'en hit been dishaway, Ole B'ar, he bin a-foolin' round in de aige ob de sottlemmt, one day, a-lookin' foh sumpin he could steal for dinneh, w'en he seed de putties' gal dat he done clap he eye on sence he wuz bawn. De minnit he see dat gal, he lub 'er lak er house a-fiah ; he lub 'er mo' hahd den 'er hoss kin kick ; he lub 'er hahd ez he own se'f kin squeege. Wen he see 'er, he grin at 'er an' say, * Come hyeah, putty lil gal, kase I lub yo' ; ' but dat des mek de gal run an' holler, kase de minnit he grin, dat minnit he show dem big w'ite tushes ob hissen, dat look lak dey des made ter chaw up 'er whole fambly ter wunst, let 'lone one lil gal lak dat. " She holler an' she holler twell huh daddy run out an* look, an' den run back foh he gun. " Den Misteh B'ar, he cl'ar out, lak de man wid de yaller jacket (a small wasp) up he britches-laig, dat hatter spressify ter de gals dat he done fegit sumpin in he turr coat-pottit dat he 'bleeged ter hab, an' he mighty sorry, but he kyarn't wait twell dinneh's on de table. " Nex' day, dough, he come a-hangin' roun' ergin, an' he put he paw on he breas', an' he grin, an' he wall up he eye des lak he plum sick ter show des how big er ijit (idiot) he wuz. " Dat don't he'p marters none. Lil gal holler. Daddy come out wid er gun. B'ar skaddle off ter de woods. " Den de nex' day, de same t'ing all obeh. " Day arter dat, same ; an' so dat kip up foh er week. " By dat time de ole daddy wuz des plum 'stractid, kase he feared Ole B'ar a-layin' off ter eat dat lil gal. I io OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Ole B'ar, he git desput, an' try er 'splain, but de gal an' 'er daddy dat skeered dat dey won't lissen. " Ole B'ar, he wait an' he hone, an' he git de simples so mighty bad dat he ain't got no peace ob he life. He des sick foh dat lil gal ; so one day he fling hisse'f down at de foot ob er big tree, an' he t'ink and he t'ink 'bout dat lil gal twell de big teah come in he eye, an' he sniffle and snuff des lak er lil boy arter er lickin'. " Now, dat tree wut he undeh bin be tree whah Ole Wood- peckeh got he house ; so w'en Ole B'ar sot dar sniffin' an' suckin' he paw, 'twuzzent long twell one ob be chilluns spy 'im. Co'se, arter dey peek at 'im wunst ur twicet, dey gotter run tell dey daddy an' manny dat dey 'spect dey gwine ter hab comp'ny foh supper, kase dey see Misteh B'ar at de foot de tree, an' dey reck'n he gwine ter clamber up soon ez he fetch he bref. "W'en Ole Woodpeckeh hyeah dat news fum de chilluns he mighty sot up. He ain't 'spectin' Ole B'ar gwine ter clamber up dat high, but he 'low he gwine ter mek mo'n er emp'y money-puss outen dat bizniz. Dis long time he bin a-honin' after b'ar-claws foh mek de finishment ter he necklash. Well den ! at de fust place, he stick he haid outen de do', soster mek ri' shore dat 'twuz Ole B'ar. Den he come a-flutterin' an' a-miratin' down ter whah dat ole lub-sick gump been a-sniffin' an' a-snuffin'. "LONG '" Buhd 'low he kyarn't, kase ef he see Ole Mawkin'-Buhd dey boun' ter be er fuss. " ' He ain' dar,' sez Misteh Mawkin'-Buhd. ' He out a- walkin'.' " ' Den I go, my honey-lub ! ' " So dey go back, an' w'en dey git dar, Miss Mawkin'-Buhd, she riz up, she did, an' tole um * howdy,' an' dat she proud dat Jay Buhd an' huh ole man got ter be frens. De nex' minnit she gwine ter ax Ole Jay ter stay ter dinneh, but he ain't stop foh no eenvite, he des scuttle out o' dem woods lak dey wuz afiah, an' all de time Misteh Mawkin'-buhd holler all dat lub-tork arter 'im. " Well ! Mawkin'-Buhd git so much 'joymint outen dat w'en he go a-visitin' de urr buhds, dat he tuk up de trick, arter w'iles, ob takin' um all off an' a-mawkin' ob um. In p'int o' fack, dat de way he git de name he go by fix on 'im, 'fo' dat he hab nurr name, de w'iches I done fegit." 126 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, Tow Head's applause was wine to Granny's spirit. It stimu- lated her to the extent of volunteering another story of Blue Jay's escapades, u kase one tale ain't nuttin w'en yo' come ter count up de shines o' dat triflin' ole buhd round de young ooman- buhds." " Now, lemme tell 'bout dat young Miss Yaller-Buhd. Ez I wuz say, Ole Jay, he wuz allus de beatenes' buhd 'bout a-runnin' arter de young folks. Dey's no fool lak de ole fool, de Lawd know ! an' dar I mek my pint, an' Ole Jay he suttingly wuz de beatenes' (greatest) fool in de bunch. Dey wuzzent one young gal-buhd in dat neck ob de woods dat didn't had de charnce ter fling up 'er haid an' scuttle out o' he way. Dat wuz de breedin' (cause) ob er heap o' fussmint too ; kase w'en dey th'ow 'imoffhetuk out he spite a-whuppin' dey daddies an' all de res' ob dey men-folks w'en de charnce come 'long. Oh, yes ! he wuz des a-makin' lub an' a-pickin' fusses fum de mawnin' twell de night, an' de sho-nuff (sure), high-flowed, study (steady) buhds wuz des plum wo' (worn) out wid he havishness (behaviour). Dey say, dey do, dat dey hat er good mine ter pay some gal-buhd ter marry Old Jay an' gin 'im er charnce to sottle down an' ack lak he sholy got ez much ez er grain ob sense. Whah de hitch to dat bizniz come in, honey, wuz dat dem young gal-buhds don't want no ole crow-bait lak dat a-torkin' sorf an' a-wallin' up he eye w'iles dey wuz lots ob fat an' sassy young bacheldeh-buhds des a-hangin' aroun' an' a-watchin' foh de charnce ter ax um out a-walkin', ur, mebbe, a-flyin', mungs de tree-tops, whah dey could bill an' coo twell sundown medout dey mammies a-takin' paht in de sesso (conversation). Shuh ! de gals wid de feddehs des de same ez de gals wid de silk frocks an' w'ite apuns. Dat's Granny's 'pinjin, honey, an' I 'low dat dem dat try ter sottle Ole Jay ain't de ones dat gwine to 'spute hit, mo' speshul, sence de way it tuhn out. Dey kyarn't do nuttin, none un um, wid dem neighbeh gals, but, nemmine ! Ole Jay, de good time am a-comin' ! Oh, yes ! AND OTHER SORCERERS. 127 De good time a-comin', by an' by. Yo'll git to Jawdin (Jordan), by and by. Ef de road am rocky, don't yo' cry. Des keep on a-ploddin' an' don't yo' cry.' " De good time foh Ole Jay wuz w'en Miss Yaller-Buhd an' huh folks move up fum down nigh Platte Ribbeh. Oh, yes ! dat wuz a big day foh Ole Jay Buhd w'en dey strike dis kyentry, 'deed hit wuz ! He ain't let no grass grow un'neat' he foots w'iles he bin a-settin' up ter Yaller-Buhd. He tote huh akins (acorns) an' 'vite 'er ter de millet-fiel' an' ketch 'er whole fambly er mess o' grubs an' er string o' hoppehgrasses. Dat mek um all grin, kase dat Yaller-Buhd, she bin promiss ter huh elber-cousin (elbow-cousin distant relative) down whah the fambly kim fum. " Arter w'iles hit come 'pun Ole Jay dat hit de time o' yeah dat he betteh stop he foolin' an' mek de 'rangemint ter settle down ter keepin' house. He named dat ter de gal, but, dellaws ! (the Lord !) dat Yaller-Buhd, she sorter primple up 'er feddehs an' fling up' er haid an' hunch up 'er shouldeh an' gin dat ole Daddy Gump no satifackshin 'tall. u Bimeby, he git desput, an' he sent her wuhd by 'er own lil buddy (brother) dat he gwine ter come arter 'er de Sunday a-follerin', an' she bleeged ter hab 'er close an' 'er dishes ready fuh 'er weddin', ur he ain't a-comin' no mo' ; he plum tuckehed out wi' 'er foolin'. " De buddy, he grin an' say he gwine ter kyar de wuhd (word), an' he do, mon, an' den dat fambly, from de ole man ter de teentyes' chile in pin-feddehs, dey all holler an' laff twell de woodses ring. " Ole Jay, he hilt off, des ez he say he gwine ter, an' he ain't see none un um, nur he ain't aim ter (intend to) twell de time he 'pinted. W'en dat come round, he primp up de bes' he kin, an' grease up he feddehs, an' sot out foh Yaller-Buhd's house. Ez he go 'long he look des ez foolish ez er owl dat 128 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, bin bile wid de haid on, an' he r'ar his se'f back lak he own er hunnerd niggehs an' grin lak er bake skunk. " Ez he go 'long he say ter hisse'f " * Ise willin' ter bet er fat 'possum gin er sup o j dishwatteh dat dat gal bin a-peekin' thu de leabes an' a-watchin' ef I come, sence de crack ob day dis mawninV " He come closeter an' sorter shade he eye an' look. " Don't see no gal a-watchin'. " Go on furder an' look ergin. " She ain't dar, suz ! " He look up, he look down, he look sideways. He ain't seen none ob de fambly. Dat sorter check de grins. Den he git brash (bold) wunst mo'. * ( ' Nemmine ! ' he say. * Gals, dey's allus sheepish. She run an' hide huhse'f an' giggle, dat wut she do.' " He came closte up. " All des ez still ez de grabe. " * Hi ! ' sez 'e, * dis hyeah am heap to much a'rs (airs) foh er plain man lak me ! I gwine ter pay 'er up foh dat, an' de res' ob 'er triflin' fambly too, wunst I git 'er tight an' fas'. I teach um mannehs on dey wuthless hides, too ! ' " Wid dat he go up an' knock an' knock. " Arter er mighty long w'iles er sassy fox-squirr'l poke out he haid fum 'cross de way an' say " * Hyo, dar ! Wut yo' arter ? Ef yo' got er bill 'gin dem Yaller-Buhds, yo' mighty late 'bout c'lectin',' sez 'e. * Ef yo' got er charge, yo' betteh des putt hit in er gun an' fiah hit off. Dat de onles' way hit retch (reach) um.' " Wid dat he feel so sma't dat he des chat-tat-chatteh, lak he mos' 'stractid wid he own joke. " ( Wut de matteh, hyeah ? ' say Ole Blue Jay, des a-sputtehin* an' a-stuttehin'. " * Dem Yaller-Buhds move back whah dey come fum,' say Squirr'l, winkin' fust one eye den turr. * Dey move off, but AND OTHER SORCERERS. 129 dey ain't move by deyse'f. De new son-in-law wuz on hans ter he'p, in co'se. He done all de heft ob de pullin'-out ' (most of the moving). u ' De whut \ ' .sez Ole Blue Jay, a-lookin' sorter wizzly (shrunk up) an' cole. " ; De new son-in-law,' sez Squirr'l, a-scratchin' he yeah wid he lef'-han'-hine-foot, but a-lookin' at Ole Jay all de time. * Miss Yaller-Buhd yo' know dat gal she wuz merry one o' dem Bobberlinkum kinfolks ob hern. W'y Ise sholy s'prise, Misteh Jay, dat yo' a'nt hed no eenvite, beein' ez yo' sech er fren ob de fambly,' sez 'e, lookin' mighty sollum. ' I reckin " OLE JAY, HE DES TUHN HE BACK ON SQUIRR'L AN CUST." w'y dey don't Vite yo' ain't no imp'uence, dough. I reckin hit des kase dey t'ink dat er ole chap lak yo' ain't tek no intruss in sech doins.' " Wen he say dat he wunk. u Ole Jay, he ain't mek no arnser, he des tuhn he back on Squirr'l an' cust. 1 ' " He was a very naughty bird, Granny. If he does that he will surely go to the Bad Place when he dies." 10 130 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " He go dar a-libbin', honey. Ain't I des tell yo' he go an' pack san' dar foh he'p bull' up de walls an' keep de po' bilin* sinnehs in ? Co'se, he don't mine dat, kase he go dar des ez reg'ler ez Friday come. Yo' ain't ne'er see er jay-bund a-Friday in all yo' bawn days, is yo', now ? " " I can't remember." " Wut dat yo' kyarn't 'membeh, honey ? " asked Aunt Mary, who entered the cabin as Tow Head spoke. " About Blue Jay going to the Bad Place on Fridays, Aunt Mary." " Huh ! Co'se he go. He de Ole Boy' pet," said Aunt Mary, for once looking serious ; " but, nemmine ! he git he come- uppance (settlement) foh all dat. Bar's Miss Wren, now, I boun' she gin' im er flea in he yeah. Oh, yes ! she mek 'im laff out de turr side o' he mouf. Miss Wren, she mighty high-strung, an' hit am er wuhd an' er lick wid huh, an' de lick come fust, ginly. She de in'my ter de Ole Boy an' all he folks an' frens too. Wunst she peck 'im in de eye des 'pun 'count ob huh 'ligion, an' she mos' laid out Ole Jay." "Tell me about it tell me all about it ! Don't skip like mamma does sometimes when she tells stories." " 'Tain't me dat skips. Hyeah de tale, honey, but it sorter triflin' arter wut Granny kin git off : a One time, Ole Blue Jay, he wuz a-paradin' thu de woods, hollerin' sass an' a-peckin' at de young buhds an' a-kickin' up de bigges' kine ob er fuss ter show off he biggittyness. Den wuz w'en he git er settin'-down he ain't nowise a-lookin' foh. Hit wuz dishaways : he wuz a-r'arin' eroun' a-payin' no heed ter whah he wuz a-gwine, w'en he flewed up blip ! ergin sumpin ur nurr, an' he gin er smack wid he bill an' he say " ( Git out de way, orkidniss, an' don't stop up de road w'en yo' bettehs is a-gwine by ! ' " * Bettehs ! ' say er lil fine, f 'erce v'ice, an' at de same time he git er clip un'neat' he wing dat he ain't gwine ter fegit in er AND OTHER SORCERERS. 131 minnit. ' Bettehs, huh ? Who dem dat ain't yo' bettehs, Kyen- tery Jake ? ' " Good Ian' ! wuzzent Ole Jay Buhd mad w'en he hyeah dat sass an' feel dat clip ! " ' Des afo' I wipes yo' offen de face ob de yeath, come out o' de shaddehs (shadows) an' lemme see wut sort ob er flea I torkin ter,' he say, soon ez he c'd git he bref. " He wuz a-seein' den," said Aunt Mary, parenthetically, "but he wuzn't lettin' on, a-puppus to rile Miss Wren, kaseshe ain't ne'er own up dat she mo' liller den de turr buhds. " ' Come out in de sun, den,' say de HI fine v'ice, ' ef yo' wanter see yo'se'f git de good lickin' dat yo' mammy orter gun yo' dis long w'iles back.' " At dat dey bofe step out in de bright light, an' Ole Blue Jay 'low dat am de Hies' buhd dat he e-er clap eye on. " * Well ! dey ain't no credick ter git outen lickin' yo', yo' po' HI ha'f-er-minnit ob de ooman seek,' he say. ' I reckin I ain't gwine ter kill yo' ef yo' tell yo' name an' whah yo' kim fum.' " * Ise fum Ole Feginny, I is, an' my name, hit's Miss Wren,' say de HI critteh, ez f 'erce ez er catamount, ' an' I ain't tell dat kase Ise 'feard, I tell hit kase I ain't 'shame o' whah I kim fum ur de fambly I 'longs ter. I des kim out hyeah w'en de w'ite folks do de quality w'ite folks dat got heaps o' niggehs an' plundeh ter move.' " ( Uhhuh ! Uh huh ! ' say Ole Jay Buhd, a-cockin' up he eye an' a-lookin' la,k he know hit all. ' Uh huh ! uh huh ! dey hab sech er heap o' plundeh ter move dat dey ain't got no room ter fetch yo' mannehs erlong. Uh huh ! Well ! I mighty glad I foun' out w'y yo' ain't got none, I is, fo' er fack.' "Whoop! " Ef dat HI wren ain't got 'er dander up ! " ( Wut yo' know 'bout mannehs ? ' she holler out. " * Nuttin 'tall, fum wut I see afo' me,' sez Ole Blue Jay, des ez cool ez er cowcumber. 132 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Hit's de bigges' wunneh dat lil wren ain't bustid she so mad. She r'ared an' she pitched an' she hollered an' she stomped. Wen she git 'er bref, she say " ( Stop yo' imp'ence, yo' low-down trash ! Ef I ain't squall out ter my ole man dat he come an' trounce de life outen yo', hit's kase I know dat I kin ten' ter dat martef my own se'f. Come hyeah, an' yo'll feel me gittin' dinneh ready foh de buzzuhds ! ' " Wid dat she pitch inter Jay Buhd an', suz ! she gin 'im er sockydolligy (blow) in de eye dat des natchelly shet dat eye. Den, des ez quick ez wink, she play popgun wid turr eye, an' Ole Jay, den he des hatter tuhn tail an' fly inter de woods an' hide hisse'f mungs de t'ick leabes. Ef he ain't done dat, ole Miss Wren, she'd sholy a-kep' 'er promuss an' mek 'im inter buzzehd- meat (a corpse), sho miff." The child clapped her hands and laughed, but her mirth was of short duration. She suddenly turned very grave and thoughtful. "Do you think Miss Wren was a lady?" she asked, after long consideration. " Ain't she say she wuz brung up mungs de quality ? " asked Aunt Mary, winking privately at Granny. " I don't care what she said ! " exclaimed the child. " She was not a lady. People that slap and bite can never, never grow up to be ladies." "How yo' fine dat out?" asked Aunt Mary, with a smile entirely too significant to be pleasant. The child blushed and wriggled uncomfortably. "I like Blue Jay better than Miss Wren, anyway," she averred. " He isn't any badder than some other birds." " Dat's so, honey," said Granny, soothingly. " An' ef yo' am o' mine ter lissen, I tell yo' er tale 'bout de time all de turr buhds hatter gin in ter dat." " Tell it, you dear, sweet, good old Granny," said Tow Head, caressing the wrinkled brown face of ner friend with both her AND OTHER SORCERERS. 133 little hands and heaving a sigh of relief at thought of a stop being made to Aunt Mary's questions. " Dat's de tale yo' am' nurr told me," grumbled Aunt Mary, " kase I ain' know ter dis day 'bout Old Daddy Blue gittin' credick nowhurs." " Ise mighty ole," said Granny, with lofty calmness, " Ise mo'n er hunnerd, an' ef I ain't tole yo' des all de fack dat I gedder up in dat time ahine me, hit kase I ain't yit git de time, Miss Mary Sallee. In co'se, I mought er know mo' ef I bin mo' strong in de haid, but I done de bes' I kin an' I kyarn't po' (pour) hit all out ter wunst." When Aunt Mary was called by so dignified a title as " Miss Sallee," she knew it was time to apologise. " I ain't mean no ha'm, Aunt Jinny," she protested, meekly. ** In co'se, I know hit tek yo' mighty long time ter tell de ha'f dat yo' know, but dem tales o' yone so fine dat Ise alms on de stretch les' yo' tell some dat I miss." " Dey ain't no big loss ef yo' do miss um, Aunt Mary," said Granny, mollified by her friend's speech, " dough yo' is suttinly de flattines' lady dat I know in de way dat yo' name um. Lawd ! I des wisht I hab er fip (five cent piece) de hun- nerd foh de good wuhds yo' gimme, I'd be heap too rich ter wuhk enny mo,' dat I would ! " " If you were rich, Granny, you would move way off into a great house, and then if I came out here I'd cry myself sick instead of hearing pretty stories," cried Tow Head, in vigorous protest against the vanity of riches. Granny's old laugh crackled like brush fire. " Ef yo' don't cry none twell yo' ole Granny git rich, honey," she said, " dem blue eyes ob yone ain't gwine ter hab de brightness wash out o' um dis side de Jawdin Ribber, dat's shore." Tow Head thanked her for this renunciation of wealth with a grateful look, but turned the conversation to the procure- ment of present advantage. 134 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Do go on with the other story, Granny. Aunt Mymee will come for me as soon as she can leave the baby, and I'll have to go immediately Mamma said so." " Hyeah 'tis, chile : " In de ole times, Hawk, he wuz de meanes', beatines' t'ing dat go on two laigs. He kilt de buhds, he did, he kyar off de putty lil bunnies, he ketch de chickens, he go ez fur ez ter spy down in de grass an' git a-holt ob Ole Tucky-Hen's young uns." " That was a shame ! The sweet little peep-peep turkies are prettier than anything else in the world. What did he do when he took hold of them ? Did he wish to make them cry ' peep, peep ? ' " " Wuss .den dat, honey, heap wuss. He des tuck um ter he nes', for dem ugly, f'erce young uns ob hissen ter eat, dat wut he did. W'y, all thu de woods an' de grass all de mammies wuz a-cryin' an' a-queechin' foh dey po' lil young ones." " That's just the way Herod did, but he didn't live long. He was punished for his sins. Was Hawk ? " " Honey, meanness am boun' ter git paid foh at de highes' price goin', des putt dat in yo' pipe and smoke hit, but hole on ! lemme tell dis now an' den yo' set f 'th yo' 'pinyun. " At de las', Hawk, he git a-holt de bigges' boy ob Ole Blue Jay. Ole Jay, he miss dat chile an' he go a-hollerin' arter 'im evvywhurs. 'Long at de fust, dey wuzzent no one tole 'im wut went o' de chile, kase he wuhkt sech er heap o' debbilM/ hisse'f (he own bill ain't so mighty clean fum aig-suckin' an' th'oat-cuttin'), but arterwuhds he foun' out. He go a-hollerin' fit ter mek de daid hyeah an' a-lookin' evvywhurs 'cep' in de lookin'-glass, twell bimeby he git way out on de open perarer. Dey wuzzen' one tree dat he hab sp'ile ob nestes in sight. He in'mies wuz all 'way off, an' dar he wuz ! He wuz dat tuckehed out dat he squot ri' down flat on de groun' ter res' hisse'f. He wuz dat wo' out dat he ain't pay no 'tenshun AND OTHER SORCERERS. 135 ter nuttin. Bimeby, dough, he rouge up, kase he hyeah heap o' lil fine soun's. He lif up he yeah an' lissen. De soun' come mo' plain, hit run 'long de grass lak wile-fiah, 'Wut ail 'im ? wut ail 'im ? ' hit say. He look. See nuttin. Lissen 'gin. Dar 'twuz ! Den he mek hit out. Hit wuz dem lil brack gnats, a-hoppin' roun' mungs de blades o' de medder grass. "'Wutail'im? Wut ail 'im?' " Den de arnser come " ( Hawk kilt he fustes-bawn. Hawk kilt he fustes-bawn.' Hit wuz de grass dat tellt hit. " Who tole yo ? Who tole yo ? ' ax de gnats. " De win' (wind) tole us. De win' tole us.' " * Wut hawk done hit ? Wut hawk done hit ? ' " * De one wid de nes' in de ole sycamo' tree. De one wid de nes' in de ole sycamo' tree.' " < W'y don't Ole Jay Buhd pay 'im off? W'y don't Ole Jay Buhd pay 'im off ? ' ax de gnats. " * Kase he 'feard. Kase he 'feard. All de turr buhds 'feard o' hawk, 'feard o' hawk,' de grass mek arnser wunst mo'. " Den all de lil bugs an' wuhms down dar mungs de grass roots tek up de song an' 'gree dat no un kin stan' up 'gin Hawk. Dey all 'feard, fum fust ter las'.. He wuz des de same ez ole Conqueh-John hisse'f. ' Mo'n dat,' sez dey, ' Ole Jay Buhd, arter all he ruckshisness, am run plum off. S'pec' he 'feard Hawk eat him ef de young meat fall shawt.' 11 Dat mek Blue Jay dat mad dat he des riz up a-screamin' dey ain't dremp he c'd hyeah, dey tork so fine an' he flewed lak he des fresh up in de mawnin'. " He flewed an' he flewed twell he git ter de ole sycamo' whah Hawk tuck up he stan'. (He suttinly ain't know twell den dat Hawk et dat chile.) W'en he git dar Hawk an' he old ooman, dey bofe gone. Nemmine ! de chilluns at home. He tuck an r flung um all outen de nes' an 1 kilt um daid. " 'Bout dat time, hyeah come Hawk a-sailin' home. Ez he 136 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, sorter ring round an' sa'nter up, Ole Blue Jay jump right onter he back, an', suz ! how he do bite an' claw 'im, on de haid, de wings, de back ! My! he des rode 'im lak er hoss an' bit 'im lak good vittles. Hawk, he ain't kin hit back, kase Jay Buhd right on top ob 'im, an' so hit come ter dat pass dat Ole Jay, he rid 'im plum outen de sottle;#//z/. Sidesen dat, he sot er mahk 'pon Hawk, he do, dat stick ter 'im ter dis day. Afo' dat scrimmage, Hawk' feddehs wuz all de same. Dat day dey git all bloody. Wen dat blood dry, hit mek dahk streak an' spot an' dar dey is yit, dey ain't ne'er bresh off. "Wen Blue Jay git thu wid dat trouncin' he go hoggin* (moving slowly or dejectedly) off home whah he lib mungs de cotton-woods. He sorter proud 'bout dat lickin', but, oh ! he sorry 'bout de 'casion ob hit. He sot down on er limb wid he tail an' wing a-hangin' an' he ain't say nuttin ter buhd ur debbil, but hit leak out, de tale ob dat lickin' do, kase de win' tell de grass, an' wut de grass know am boun' ter go de rounds. De grass don't keep nuttin back. Den de buhds git de whole tale an', suz, dey mek de miration ! Dey ain't sot on (do not like) Ole Jay, but, my ! he er suckin' turkle-dove 'long o' Hawk." While Tow Head was trying to make up her mind whether she liked that story or not, Aunt Mymee appeared and gave her a concise invitation, in the name of her parents, to " 'have putty," say her prayers and go to bed. As a reward for " 'havin' tollible," Aunt Mymee sang her this song, which is supposed to imitate the scream of a jaybird : M Ez I wuz gwine thu de woods, I met er sassy jay, Jay ! Jay ! I axt 'im wut dey wuz ter eat an' wut dey wuz ter pay, Pay! Pay! Ez I wuz gwine 'crost de fiel', I met er sassy jay, Jay ! Jay ! Jay ! I axt 'im wut dey wuz ter eat an' wut dey wuz ter pay, Pay ! Pay ! Pay ! Ez I wuz gwine up de hill, &c., AND OTHER SORCERERS. 137 Jay ! Jay ! Jay ! Jay ! I axt *im wut dey wuz ter eat, &c., Pay ! Pay ! Pay ! Pay ! Ez I wuz gwine down de lane, &c., Jay ! Jay ! Jay ! Jay ! I axt 'im, &c., Pay ! Pay ! Pay ! Pay ! Pay ! " X. 11 OLE RABBIT AN" DE DAWG HE STOLE" HOW HE OBTAINED GOPHER'S WINTER SUPPLIES. ON'T anybody know any more rabbit stories ? " Tow Head's glance wandered from one to another of the five wise women grouped about the fireplace, fraught with mingled scorn and entreaty. The wise women, led by Aunt Mary, laughed so exasperatingly, that Tow Head's small stock of THE RABBIT FAMILY. patience flared up and went out like the spray of dead leaves clinging to the great log that did double duty as heater and illuminator. " I'm going to Mamma," she said, rising with a great show of offended dignity. "I'm going immediately," she added, cross- ing the floor. " I'm not afraid of the dark." " Co'se not," said Granny. " None o' yo' folks 'feared o' nuttin. In dat dey's diffunt fum Ole Rabbit, wid all he sly trick, he git skeered." " Who sesso? " growled Big Angy. 138 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO. 139 " I sesso. I kin prube dat, too, by de tale ob Ole Chuffy an' dat dawg he stole fum de w'ite man. Wuzzent he skeer w'en de dawg tuck out arter 'him ? " " I ain't mine dat tale." By this time Tow Head was in Granny's lap and the two friends were sitting cheek pressed against cheek, greatly to Aunt Mymee's chagrin. " Hit wuz lak dis," said Granny, pressing the child closer an! half-shutting her eyes. " In de good ole times, Ole Rabbit wuzzent scrouge (crowded) none by de neighbehs. Hit wuz miles ter de corndeh ob enny urr man's fiel'. " Arter w'iles Misteh Injun an' he folks, dey sot um up er sottlemint, but dat ain't nuttin, kase dey wuz alms a-perawdin' eroun' an' a-ketchin' up dey plundeh an' a-movin'. "Bimeby, dough, 'long come de w'ite man, a-choppin' down de trees an' a-diggin' up de yeath. Den wuz de time all de crittehs pack up dey go-ter-meetin' close in er piller-case an' git ready ter staht off, kase dey know Misteh W'ite Man come foh ter stay, an' he ain't de kine dat want ter sleep free ur fo' (three or four) in de baid, an' dey ain't, ne-er. Dat am, all un um 'cept Ole Chuffy Rabbit an' de Squirr'l fambly sot out j dem two 'low dey gwine ter tough hit out er w'les longeh. " Wut pester Ole Chuffy mo' den all de res' wuz dat w'ite man's dawg. Hit wuzzent lak dem Injun davvgs dat's scattein' (running) roun' de kyentry terday, an' in de pot termorrer." " What kind of a dog was it, Granny exactly what kind ? " " Hit," said Granny, reflectively, with a look into space as if her mind's eye beheld it u hit wuz er houn'-dawg. One o' dem lanky, shahp-nose dawg dat hunt all day an' howl all night. Hit wuz ez still ez er fox on er tuck (turkey) hunt fum day- break twell cannel-light, but des wait twell de sun go down an' de moon come up oh, Lawd ! ( Ah-oo-oo-oo ! Wow, ow, ow ! Ah-oo-oo-oo ; Wow, ow, ow ! ' hyeah hit go fum mos' sundown 140 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, ter mos' sun-up, an' dat wuz de mos' aggervatines' soun' dat de Ole Boy e'er putt in de th'oat ob er libbin' critteh. Hit des 'stractid Ole Rabbit. He flounce roun' in de baid lak er cat- fish on er hook. He groan an' he grunt an' he tuhn an' he roll, an' he des kyarn't git no good res'. He bin one o' de smoove-torkin' kine gin'ly, but dat houn', hit mek 'im cuss twell Ole Miss Rabbit, she 'bleege ter roll de bed-kivvehs roun' huh yeahs, she dat scannelise. " ' W'y don't yo' get outen de baid an' tuhn yo' shoe wid de bottom side up an' set yo' bar' foot onto hit ? ' she say. * Dat mek enny dawg stop he yowlin'.' " ' Well ! ain' I done it forty-leben ti me ? say Ole Man Rabbit, des a-fumin' an' a snortin'. ' Ain' I bin a-hoppin' in an' out de baid all he lib-long night ? Co'se hit stop um foh er harf er jiff (an instant) an' den hit chune up ergin 'fo' I des kin git de baid wa'm unner me.' " ( Ah-oo-oo-oo ! Wow, ow, ow ! Ah-oo- RABBIT TEK DAT oo-oo ! Wow, ow ', ow ! ' Dat ole houn' TOLLER-DIP IN HIS f t fa er J d t f , (f j rf j mek de man j n HAN'. * de moon blink. " ' Cuss dat ole dawg ! Cuss 'im I say ! W'y don' dat fool dat own um, stuff er cawn-cob down he frote, ur chop he wuth- less kyarkiss inter sassidge-meat ? ' sez Old Rabbit, sez' e. ' I gin up on de sleepin' queschin, dis night,' sez 'e, ' but I lay I ain't 'sturb lak dis in my res' tormorrer,' sez' e. " Wid dat he bounce out on de flo' an' haul on he britches, an' light er toller-dip, an' he tek dat toller-dip in he ban', an' he go pokin roun' mungs de shaddehs lak he a-huntin' foh sumpin. " Scratch, scratch ! scuffle, scuffle ! he go in de corndehs ob de cubberd. " Ah-oo-oo-oo ! Wow, ow, ow ! go de houn' outside. " Scratch, scratch ! scuffle, scuffle ! AND OTHER SORCERERS. 141 " Ah-oo-oo-oo ! Wow, ow, ow ! " Scratch, scratch ! scuffle, scuffle ! " Ah-oo-oo-oo ! Wow, ow, O-O-OW ! " An' so dey kip hit up twell ole Miss Rabbit dez ez mad at one ez turr. " * Wut t's yo' doin', Misteh Rabbit ? ' she ax. * Is yo' run er brier in yo' foot ? Is yo' gittin' fat meat foh hit ? ' " ( No,' sez 'e, mighty shawt ; ' I ain' got no brier in my foot dat I knows on, but I gotter brier in my mine 'bout de size ob er snipe-bill, ef I ain't mistookencd.' " At dat she let fly er swa'm o' queschins, but he des grin dry and say u ( Ax me no queschins an' I tell yo' no lies, Don' bodder me, ole ooman. I ain't feel berry strong in de haid, dis mawnin', an' 1 mought answer queschins wid my fist, ef I gits pestered.' " Dat shet 'er up, in co'se, dough she ain't satisfy. " Toreckly, day gun ter brak an' he blow out de cannel an' she sot in ter git brekfus. " Ez de light git strong, she noduss he step sorter lop-side. " * fs yo' got er brier in yo' foot ? ' " ' Hit in my mine, ooman.' " Putty soon she holler out " ' Who bin techin' de braid ? Somebody bin a-cuttin' de braid ! I lay I gotter trounce dem greedy chilluns for dat. 'Pear lak I kyarn't set down nuttin, dese days, but dey gotter muss in hit ! I gwine ter cut me er big hick'ry lim', dis mawnin', an' see ef I kyarn't lick some mannehs inter de whole kit an' bilin' un um ! In de meanw'iles o' gittin' dat lim', I gwine to smack de jaws ob de whole crowd.' " * No, yo' ain't,' sez Old Rabbit, sez 'e. ( Des lef dem young uns o' mine 'lone. Dey ain't done nuttin. I cut dat braid an' I got dat braid an' I ain't gwine ter gin 'er up.' " Putty soon ole Miss Rabbit sing out ergin " ' Who bin cuttin' de bakin (bacon) fat ? ' sez she, * an 142 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, cuttin' it crookid, too,' sez she. 'I lay I des leaf de breckfus an' set out an' git dat lim', right now,' sez she. " ( No, yo' won't,' sez Ole Rabbit, sez J e. ( I am' gwine ter hab de sense w'ale outen dem young uns o' mine, /tuck dat fat an' I got dat fat, an' ef I haggle de slice, dat my look out,' sez 'e. ' I paid foh hit, an' I gwine ter cut hit wid de saw ur scissuz, ef I feel lak hit,' sez 'e. 11 Wid dat he git up an' walk off, limpetty limp. " Miss Rabbit ain't see no mo' un 'im twell sundown. Den, he come in lookin' mighty tuckehed out, but des a-grinnin' lak er bak skunk. He sot down, he did, an' et lak he bin holler (weary) cl'ar ter he toes, but he won't say nuttin. Wen he git thu, he sorter stretch hisse'f and say " * I gwine ter go ter baid. I gotter heap o' sleep ter mek up, an' I lay no dawg ain' gwine ter 'sturb my res' dis night.' " An' dey don't. Dey wuzzent er soun', an' Miss Rabbit mek er gret miration at dat in huh mine, but she ain't got nobody ter tork hit unter, twell de nex mawnin', w'en Ole Rabbit git up ez gay an' sassy ez er yeahlin'. Den he hab de big tale ter tell, an' dis wuz wut he tell 'er : " W'en he wuz a-foolin' in de cubberd, he git 'im er piece o' braid, an' he tie dat on he foot. Den he cut 'im er slice o' bakin an' he putt dat on top de braid. Den he slip on he shoe an' staht out. Dat he do kase he gwine ter fix 'im some shoe- braid (" shoe-bread ") foh ter feed ter dat dawg, kase ef yo' w'ar braid in yo' shoe an' den gin hit unter er dawg, an' he eat hit, dat dawg yone (is yours). He gwine ter foller yo' ter de eends o' de yeath, dat he am ! Ole Chuffy putt de bakin (bacon) on ter gin dat braid er good tase, an' ter fool de folks wut see 'im, kase he gwine ter let on lak he run er brier in he foot an' tuck an' putt on dat bakin foh ter dror out de so'ness an' kip 'im fum a-gittin' de lock-jaw. " Well ; he tromp roun' twell de w'ite man go ter de fiel', an' den he slip up sorter easy-lak an' he fling dat shoe-braid a-front AND OTHER SORCERERS. 143 o' dat ole houn'-dawg. Hit gulf hit down in des one swaller. Yo' know dem houn'-dawgs des allus bin hongry sence de minnit dey wuz bawn, an' yo' kyarn't fill um up no mo'n ef dey got hole in um de same ez er cullendeh. " De minnit de shoe-braid bin swaller dat ole houn'-dawg des natchelly hone arter Ole Rabbit. He tuck out arter 'im thu de bresh so swif dat hit sorter skeer Old Chuffy. He wuz des a-studyin' 'bout a-leadin' dat houn' ter de crik an' a-tyin' er rock roun' he neck an' a-drowndin' um, but dis hyeah turr'ble hurry s'prise 'im so dat he des run lak de Ole Boy wuz a-tryin' ter ketch 'im. Hyeah dey had it ! Up hill an' down holler, 'crost de fiel' an' round de stump, obeh an' undeh, roun' an' roun', ketch ef yo' kin' an' foller ef you kyarn't ! Oh, suz, dat wuz er race ! " No tellin' how hit mought a-come out ef Ole Rabbit hedn' run 'crost er Injun man wid er bow an' arrer. " De Injun 'gun ter fit de arrer ter de " DIS HYEAH TURR'BLE string foh ter shoot dat Chuffy Rabbit, HURRY S ' PRISE ' IM so '" w'en he holler out ez loud ez he c'd holler foh de shawtniss ob her bref " ' Oh ! hole on, Misteh Injun Man, hole on er minit ! Ise a-fetchin' yo' er present,' sez 'e ' er mighty nice present,' sez 'e. " ' Wut yo' fetch ? ' sez de Injun Man, kine o' s'pishis-lak. " ' Hit's er dawg,' sez Ole Rabbit, a-wuhkin' he yeahs an' a- flinchin' he nose kase he hyeah dat dawg a-cracklin' thu de bresh, ' er mighty nice fat dawg, Misteh Injun Man. I hyeah tell dat yo' ole ooman wuzpo'ly, an' I was a-brungin' dis hyeah houn'-dawg so's yo' c'd mek er stchew outen 'im,' sez 'e. ( I'd a-fotch um ready cook,' sez 'e, 'but my ole ooman, she des nowhurs 'long o' yone in de mekin' o' stchews,' sez 'e. ' I wuz foh fetchin' er string o' inguns foh seas'nin', an' den I don't know ef yo' lak um wid inguns,' sez 'e. 144 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " De Tnjun suttinly wuz tickle wid dat lallygag (humbug) but he don't say much. He des sorter grunt an' look todes de bresh. " ' Dat um ! Dat my houn'-dawg a-comm' ! ' say Ole Rabbit, a-flinchin' mo' an' mo' ez de cracklin' come a-nigheh. ' Yo' betteh shoot um, Misteh Injun, des ez 'e bounce out o' de bresh, kase dat am er mons'us shy dawg, mons'us shy ! Hit won' foller nobody but me, an' I kyarn' go 'long home wid yo r an' tek um kase Ise lame. Las' night I couldn't sleep, my lef'-han'-hine-foot huht me so, an' now I got um tie up in bakin' fat. Shoot um right hyeah, Misteh Injun ! Dat de bes' an' de safes', mon ! ' " Des dat minnit out jump de dawg an' zim ! Misteh Injun des shoot um an' pin um ter de groun'. *' Den Ole Man Rabbit mop de sweat offen he face an' lope off home leas' dat de tale he tell de fambly, an' ef 'tain't de troof, nobody ain' n'nyin' hit (no one denies it), dese days, an r ez he say ter he ole ooman, hit er good laughin' tale terday, but hit mighty sollumcholly yistiddy, w'en 'twuz gwine on." " Now, de mos' cu'i's paht (curious part) ob all dis," con- tinued Granny, " am dat sence dat day all de dawgs ack lak dey sholy cunjered. Ef dey enny un um des ez much ez ketch er gimpse ob er rabbit-tail dey des putt out arter hit lak de Ole Boy a-sickin' (driving) um on." " Dat wuz sholy cunjered braid," said Aunt Em'ly, with con- viction, " ur (but) hit don't wuhk dat quick. Yo' hatter w'ar braid in yo' shoe mo' longeh'n dat, urrways." " Yo' des hattei w'ar de braid twell yo' strenk go inter hit, so's w'en de dawg s waller hit, he swaller de tase o' yo'. In co'se, de strenk ob Ole Rabbit go in mighty quick." " Dat de troof, Aunt Jinny. I tek dat back wut I say I Lan' ! Ian* ! wut don' yo' know ! " " I dunno dat fine tale o' yone 'bout Rabbit an' de gopheh ez good ez I wanter, Aunt Em'ly. Ef yo' tell hit now, so dat I git de good un um ergin, an' HI missey git de satisfackshin AND OTHER SORCERERS. 145 un urn too, I reckin I putt in de time a-roas'in' dis hyeah pan ob coffee-beans in de hot ashes." " Coffee-beans des fit my mouf, dis night, Aunt Jinny. Come in Aunt Em'ly' lap, honey, w'iles I tell yo' dat tale o' Rabbit and Gopheh. Aunt Jinny, dat 'mine (reminds) me is yo' got enny ob dem lil choke-tatehs dat yo f c'd roas' at de same time yo' foolin' wid de coffee-beans ? " " Dat I is, an* hyeah dey is ! " cried Granny, dragging a small bag of tubers from among the bandboxes under her bed. The choke-taters or artichokes, (not the green vegetable rosettes served to " white folks," but the tubers of the great " Jerusalem sunflowers " that come, at Nature's bidding, beside the country road) were buried in the ashes, at a safe distance from the popping coffee-beans, before Aunt Em'ly could give her mind to the tale. Finally, she said " 'Twuz dishaways, honey' 'bout gittin' de truck Gopheh lay up foh cole weddeh. Ole Rabbit, he putt in de summeh time des lak de worl' wuz hissen ; he wuz a-cuttin' roun' hyeah an' yon, in de bresh an' out ergin, sassin' de boys an' settin' up ter de gals, an' a-perawdin' eroun whahsomedevveh dey wuz enny debbilmint gwine on. He ain't do er lick ob wuhk, he ain't lay by ez much ez er bastet (basket) ob leabes ter mek er sallet (salad), no suh ! an* w'en he ole ooman 'mine 'im o' dat, he des bat he eye lak he 'mos' a-drappin' off ter sleep an' say " * Don't pesteh er sma't man dat yo' got de luck ter hab foh yo' ole man wid fool queschins, ole ooman. I got er heap o' folks out a-wuhkin' foh my libbin'. Dey fetch me in de crap w'en de right time come.' " W'en she git oneasy 'gin an' say she ain't see nobody wuhkin', ceppin' foh deyse'f, an' nobody ain' fetch in nuttin ter de sulleh (cellar), an' de fros' a-comin' on an' de greens 'bout ter gin out, an' whah is dat crap, she wanter know, he des hunch up he shouldehs an' lay back he yeahs an' sing out dat aggravaxin' way he got ii 146 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " * Ax me no queschins, I tell yo' no lies. But I know whah dey's good vittles foh er man 'bout my size.' " Wid dat he go a-skippin' down de lane todes de bresh- patch, whah er passel ob he kinfolks wuz 'semmle ter pass de time axin' one nurr puzzlemznts (riddles), an' a-tellin' tales an' a-r'arin' an' a-tusslin' an' a-raisin' de Ole Boy gin'ly wid dey laffin' an' gigglemints an' kyarin' on. So he do all de time, an' de days pass by, an' de nights gun ter git sorter cool foh de quiltkivvehs, an' de nuts fall down 'pun de daid grass an' de leabes come a-russlin' 'pun top un um an' de jays holler an' scream lak dey t'ink de sumac-bushes afiah, sho nuff. " Den de ole ooman ax 'im 'gin "'Is dem pussons a-wuhkin' foh yo' yit ? Kase ef dey is,' sez she, ( I reckin dey got de crap mek long 'fo' now, an' I wisht dey git um in de sulleh 'fo' de fros' spile um.' " He des wink an' grin an' go off a-visitin' he kinfolks, ur kick up he heels mungs de leabes. " Den de sun look lak er big ball o' fiah an' de a'r wuz full ob smoke fum nowhurs, des ez ef de whole yeath wuz lick up in er turr'ble big perarer-fiah, an' de leabes, dey wuz mos' all down an' de nuts sorter sink in de groun', lak dey good noshin ter plant deyse'fs, an' de weeds in de fence-corndehs an' 'long de aige ob de lane go, ' rittle-rattle, rittle-rattle ' in de win,' lak de bones ob er las' Crismus tucky. " Den de ole ooman, she up an say " ' De watteh des a-dribblin' outen de corndehs ob my mouf, I a-honm' so arter dem good vittles dem pussons am a-gittin' for yo'. I wisht, Misteh Rabbit, dat yo' tell um ter fetch me er tase, dis blessid day. I kyarn't hole out much longeh, I cross my haht on dat.' 41 *" Den hole in ' (restrain yourself), sez 'e, ( dat am des wut I sot out ter lahn (learn) yo', ole ooman,' sez 'e, a-kickin' up he heels an' a-clippin' down de lane, samer he bin a-doin' all de time. " Bimeby, Ole Jack Pros', he come ter stay. Hit time ter AND OTHER SORCERERS. 147 git out blankit-kivvehs foh de baid an' flannin-petticuts foh de chilluns ; hit time foh punkin-sass an' roas' 'possum wid 'coon gravy ; hit time ter git out de zerves (preserves) an' putt by de watteh-million ; hit time ter lay by de mint-julip an' git out de aig-nogg ; time ter lay by de fried chicken an' git out de pot-pie ; time ter lay by de peach-cobbler an' git out de apple- dumplin' ; time ter lay by de roas'in'-yeah an' git out de ash- cake ; time ter lay by de roas' pig an' git out de sassidge an' chine ; time ter lay by de churry-tart an' git out de mince-pie ; time ter quit de br'ile buhd an' git out de bake shoat ; time ter " Foh de Lawd sake, Aunt Em'ly, stop dat ! Ef yo' go on dataway, I sholy pe'sh wid hongeh, I shill dat ! I des ready ter drap spang offen dis hyeah cheer, now ! " cried Aunt Mary. Aunt Em'ly was greatly gratified by this tribute to her descriptive powers. She smiled, bridled, and came very near breaking into an undignified guffaw, but contrived to check that unworthy manifestation of elation, and continued, with quiet dignity " 'Bout dat time hit 'gun ter look ter Ole Man Rabbit hisse'f dat ef he don't want win'-pie (wind-pie) an' watteh-pud- din' foh he reg'leh meals, he betteh be a-stirrin' roun'. Wen he git dat thu he ha'r, he tuck er day ur two foh a-kynsidehin', an' he w'ar he studyin' cap all de time o' dat time. He study an' study, but dat ain' hendeh dat w'en he a-santerin' roun' de fiel's an' lanes he see all dat gwine on. He ain't de one dat miss nuttin, Ole Rabbit ain't. He ain't lak dem folkses dat gotter rock deyse'f in de rockin'-cheer wid dey eyes shet w'en dey a-wuhkin' dey mines (thinking), dat he ain't ! He SEE, an' he see wut he gwine ter fetch outen wut he see. All dat he see mek fat foh Ole Chuffy' ribs, in co'se hit do ! " In de airly mawnin', w'en de fros' wuz w'ite on de stubble an' de hemp-stalks, an' de sun seem mighty slow 'bout gittin* 'bove de tree tops, he sot out ter look et de young orchahd dat 148 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, er mon 'e know sot out, las' yeah. He look long an* he look hahd. " ' Uh-huh ! ' he say ter dem spin'lin' young trees, * yo' am* no 'count foh raisin' apples, fur ez I kin see. I reck'n him dat sot yo' out am mighty dis'p'inted wid yo', but de leabins ob one am de sass ob nurr. Yo' am a-suitin' me mighty well, dis minnit. I ain't keer none foh apples, but I ain't turn up my nose at bahk (bark), ef hit sweet an' good, an' yo' am dat, I boun*. Shoh ! I des ez well satify ez ef yo' wuz set out a-puppus ter raise bahk.' " Wid dat he fall ter wuhk an' git er good big bite o' dat bahk in he mouf. Wooh 1 p-t-t ! s-s-spit ! dat bahk ez bitteh ez duck's gall." " Duck's gall am good foh de so' (sore) eyes. 'Taint no 'count on trees," interrupted Aunt Mymee. " Dat so, Aunt Mymee. I ain' 'spute yo' none on dat, but dat stuff on dem trees des ony (just only) tase dataway. Hit wuz warnit (walnut) juice dey got on um. Somebody bin a-doctehin^ dem trees des ter keep de varmints fum a-gnawin' um. Dat wut Ole Rabbit know too, an' dat wut mek 'im so mad. " { Hit's er mighty mean man dat'll go an' dob up er good tree dataway,' sez Ole Rabbit, sez 'e, an' wid dat, he des bust fo'th an' free he mine 'bout de man dat 'u'd do sech er mean, low-down trick. Oh, he des went on 1 dough dey wuzzent nobody ceppin he own se'f a-lissenin'. " Bimeby, he git out o' bref an' gin dat up. Hit mighty satifyin' ter de feelins ter 'buse de meanness o' folks, but 'tain't fillin' none ter de stummick. Dat wut Ole Chuffy fine, an* he 'bleege ter look roun' an' ketch up er breckfus somers else. He peek an' he poke an' he don't see nuttin. He go 'long todes de eend ob de orchahd twell he come in sight o' de buck- wheat fiel', but he don't go dar, he know mo'n dat. He des go a-lookin' roun' mungs de HI hills o' fresh dut (dirt) lak he t'ink he los' sump'n dat he gwine ter fine dar." AND OTHER SORCERERS. 149 " Mebbe," interrupted Aunt Mymee, again, " he wuz gwine ter eat some o' dat duht dat wuz flung up by de gophehs. Gopheh-duht mighty good ef yo' got de misery in de stummick, mo' speshul, ef yo' feel squawmish." Granny elevated her eyebrows, but said nothing. She heartily despised a dirt-eater. " Uh huh ! " said Aunt Em'ly, partly agreeing, " Ise allus hyurn tell dat duht am good foh de watteh-brash an' de likes, but dat wuzzent wut Ole Rabbit up ter. He got de sinkin' in de stummick, to-be-sho, but vittles de dose ter fetch dat up. Wen he wuz at de HI hills, he sniff an' he snuff. Bimeby, he go up ter un un um (of them) an' he tek up lil ob de duht an* feel ef 'twuz wa'm. " Hit wuz wa'm ! hit wuz brack duht, kase it wuz mighty new good Ian', an' hit wuz ez mealy ez one o' dem tatehs on de h'a'th dar, an' hit wuz wa'm / " < Hi ! ' sez Ole Rabbit, sez he, ( wut de matteh now ? Ole Gopheh, he's a-diggin' he sulleh, deep, diggin* dis late in de season an' dis airly in de mawnin'. Mighty quare, dat am, mighty quare ! Wut in de name o' common sense an' wunner, he doin' dat foh ? at dis time de yeah, too ! I 'low I ain't dat sot (so intent on) arter breckfus dat I ain' got de time ter stop an' eenquieh 'bout hit.' " Den he up an' go ahine de gopheh-hill dat des wut dat lil hill wuz, er gopheh-hill at de do' ob Ole Gopheh's house, whah he fling out de duht w'en he dig de sulleh. Wen he go dar, he knock an' he knock, Ole Rabbit do, he knock wunst an' twiste an' den so fas' dat yo' kyarn't count. " Nobody say nuttin. " Den he holler out " < Hyo dar ! hyo ! ' sez 'e. * Come ter de do*. 'Tain't no skunk, nur weasel, nur dawg, nur wile cat dat am a-knockin*. Hit's me, Misteh Gopheh, Ole Man Rabbit, a-drappin' in foh er fr'en'ly call." 150 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, " Wid dat Ole Gopheh, he stick he haid out an' say, sorter pleasant an' sorter sheepy " ' 'Scuse me, Misteh Rabbit, dat I ain' hyeah yo' at de fust. Ise dat muddle up in my wuhk dat I kyarn' skuse hyeah nuttin. All de same, now dat I do hyeah yo, Ise mighty glad ter see yo', dough I mighty 'shame dat I kyarn't ax you in, but de front entry all clutteh up wid trash so yo' kyarn't git thu.' " ' I des ez lives set out hyeah in de fresh a'r," sez Ole Man Rabbit, ( dat am, ef yo' got de time ter chat. If Ise a-hendrin yo' dough, des say de wuhd an' I tek myse'f off, dat quick ! ' u Wen Ole Rab say dat, he yuck (jerked) he hine foot, quicker'n wink. 44 ' Oh ! yo' ain't hendeh me none,' say Gopheh, spittin' out de duht fum he jaws onter de pile. ' I wuz des fix ter come up wid dis load. Ise proud ter hab yo' hyeah. De sight o' yo' am good foh so'e eyes an' de soun' o' yo' am good foh de weak chist. Yo' fetch so much news w'en yo' come round, hit mighty 'livenin' ter slow, hahd-wuckin' folks, Misteh Rabbit.' u< -Ise er wuckin' mon my own se'f, suh,' sez Ole Rabbit, sez 'e, a-lookin' ez ef he feelin's wuz huht. ' Ise bin a-layin' in er big crap dis yeah too big, in facks I ain't got de sulleh room dat I a-needin'. I ain't no diggeh lak yo'se'f ; ef I staht a-diggin' now, I ain't gwine ter git dat sulleh done twell nex surnmeh, an' den wut de use ob er sulleh ? ' " At dat Gopheh, he cock up he yeah an' look lak he hyeah de good news, but he ain't say nuttin much. Ui I git ahine-han's de same way my own se'f, 1 sez 'e, * dat w'y I a-diggin' w'en by de good rights I otter be in baid.' " * I hates mighty bad ter loose dem roots," sez Ole Rab, sorter to hisse'f, ' but I reckin day ain't no hep foh hit. I don't need um an' I ain't got de sulleh room foh um, but Ian' ! I hates ter see sech good vittles run ter wase.' " * Well 1 ' sez Ole Gopheh, sez 'e, sorter a-bustin' in on AND OTHER SORCERERS. de remocks (remarks), ' Misteh Rabbit, mebbe I kin kommer- date yo' some.' " * I thot yo' wuz a-namin' dat yo' so crowded dat yo' a-bildin' mo' sulleh,' sez Old Rabbit, kinder jubous-lak ) an' a-scratchin' he haid lak he a-scratchin' foh news ter come out. " ' Oh ! ' sez Gopheh, sez 'e, ' I des needs 'bout so much, an' ef yo' roots so turr'ble fine, I reckin I kin fling out some o' dese I got an' fill in yone.' " ( Lemme see dem wut yo' got,' sez Ole Rabbit, a-lookin' mighty sollum an' slow. 'Mebbe dem des ez good ez de ones I got,' sez 'e, 'dough, to-be-sho, dat mighty onlikely, kase I riz dese ob mine my own se'f, Misteh Gopheh, and, de Lawd know! I tuck er heap o' trouble. Howsomedevveh, ef yo'll han' me one ob yone, I kin gin hit er tas'e, an' den I know how ter 'vise yo'.' " Soon ez de wudh said, Gopheh, he des splunge down in de sulleh an' run up ergin wid er big calamus root in one han' an'er whole heap o' de tendes' (tenderest) kine o' lil w'ite shoots in turr. " Ole Rabbit, he des skuse kin keep fum a- grabbin' um, he so wuhkt up at de sight o' vittles, an' all the time he stummick des a-ringin' de dinneh bell wid bofe han's. He mek out ter hole hisse'f study dough, an' he tek de calamus an' he tek de shoots an' he nibble an' tase, nibble an' tase, w'les he shake de haid an' look way out in de a'r lak de docteh w'en he kyarn't mek out ef de baby got de measles ur mos' et up wid de fleas. He keep on lak dat, he do, twell he des nibble de whole passel out o' sight. Den he gib he haid one las' big shake, lak he hab heap o' pity foh Gopheh. Den he pick er crum' ur two outen he whiskehs an' say " ' My fren, I ain't de one dat gwine ter 'ceive you, dough OLE RABBIT REFLECTS. 152 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, de Lawd know ! I hates lak pizon ter huht yo' feelin's an' dis'pint yo' ; dem roots ain't lak de ones I got, no mo' dey ain't.' At dat Gopheh, he wuz des all struck ob er heap. He 'spise he winteh truck so dat hit don't seem no mo' 'count den de dry weeds in de fence corndeh. " Ole Rabbit, he look at 'im mighty kine. " ' Is yo' got sumpin else ? ' sez 'e, a-smilin' sorter tiahd-lak ' (as if tired). " l I'm got er few tatehs an' goobeh-peas an' er gob o* OLE RABBIT AND MISTEH GOPHEH. bummle-bee honey,' sez Gopheh, sorter hangin' back wid de wuhds, lak he mos' shame ter let um out.' " Hyeahin' o' dem t'ings mos' kill Ole Rabbit, but sence he git fill up in de corndehs wid dem w'ite shoots an' calamus, he c'd stan' hit betteh w'en de chat run on vittles, so he look sorter mighty an' toss up he chin an' wuhk he nose an' cl'ar he tho'at, lak de namin' o' dem common vittles mek 'im sorter kintempshis, an' he say " ' Uh-huh ! ef yo' satisfy, dat all right, but ef yo' ain't, an' AND OTHER SORCERERS. 153 yo'mine ter tek de trouble, w'en de day git mo' 'long todes noon, w'en hit mo' mile (warmer), yo' kin fetch in some o' my truck.' " Seem ter Gopheh lak he dis pe'sh (perish) out, ef he don't git some o' dat truck, so he up an' say, 'T'anky, t'anky, Nabeh Rabbit', mighty ferce (fierce eagerly), an' he gin ter th'ow out de truck he got in de sulleh, right off. Den him an' Ole Rabbit mek de 'greement dat w'en de sulleh all cl'ar out, den dat Ole Rab gwine ter show 'im de way ter de truck-patch. Arter dat dey shake de han' pun de bawgin an' Ole Rabbit 'low he 'bleeged ter go 'long home, kase Miss Rabbit, she gittin' sumpin fine foh dinneh ter sorter sample de goods ( fo ' dey lay um by. 4< Wid dat sesso (saying), out he putt, but he ain't go home. Wut de use, I wanter know ? Dey ain't no pot a-bilin' in he house dat day. He des tellin' dem owdashus lies ter git Gopheh all tore up in he mine, an' he done hit too ! Stiddiergoin' home, he go down by de crick ter whah de bank crummle off an' de watteh wash de roots ob the weeds and briehs out. He lop off heap o' dem roots, an' he go an' pile um up in er big pile out in er fiel'. Den he git er grV big lot ob wilier-trigs an' one trash an' nurr, an' he pile dem on too. Den he lope back an' ax Gopheh will he come 'long, kase now he thu he big dinneh, he ain't got er libbin' t'ing ter do, ceppin' ter he'p he frens, an' dat suttingly am er pledger stiddier (a pleasure instead of) er bodder ter er fr'en'ly man. Den he run on an' say " ' Hit do me good, too, ter hab de stirrin' roun', kase I des knows I mek er pig outen myse'f, de dinneh wuz dat good an' I dat proud dat I raise um myse'f.' "Dar now ! 'tain't no use ter tell all de speechifyin' dat pass back an' fo'th 'twixt um. I gwine ter cut dat tale shawt an' come in 'pun de eend ob it. Ole Rabbit, he tuck an' tuck Gopheh an' show 'im dat pile o' rubbige an' he sez, sez 'e, a-smilin' all de time an' a-svvellin' out he buzzom " * Hyeah 'tis, nabeh ! I done sot him out an' wuhkt hit an' 154 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, lay hit by my ownse'f, so I knows des wut yo' a-gittin', but ef yo' ain't sati'fy wid my sesso, des set down an' try er hunk o' sumpin.' " Gopheh, he wuz a-winkin' an' a-blinkin' in de sun twell he couldn' tell er tateh mm er toadstool, and, sidesen dat, he got er putty good staht foh er bad cole an' hit gwine ter git wuss, ef he stay out in de fros', so he say. " * Nemmine de tasin' des now, my deah Misteh Rabbit, I tek yo' wuhd foh hit. I 'low yo' know de tase ob Sunday vittles, ef ennybody do. I des wuhk now an' tase toreckly.' "Wid dat dey bofe sot ter wuhk, Ole Rabbit a-he'pin' (helping) lak er fine felleh. " Wen dey tuck in de fust load, Gopheh, he 'low he tek um down sulleh hisse'f. " * All fa'r an' squar',' sez Ole Rabbit, sez 'e, a-tuhnin' he back an' a-stuffin' he hankercher in he mouf ter keep mm a-bustin' out a-laffin. " Wen he sottle down fum dem highstrikes (his excitement), he tuhn roun' an' say " ' Wiles yo' down dar, I kin cl'ar up de rubbige out hyeah.' " Wid dat he grab up er yarmful ob dem nice sweet roots an' goobehs an' out he git an' hide um in de bresh nigh home. " Den w'en he git back, he sing out, ( Am yo' ready foh nurr load, nabeh ? ' " Gopheh, he pop out he fool haid and say, * Yessuh.' " Den back dey go, in co'se, an' dey kip up dat foolishness twell sundown, an' den hit too cool foh Gopheh ter stay out o' do's. He 'low, dough, dat he gwine ter git one mo' load in de mawin', ef de day tuhn out fine. "'All ri', des suit yo'se'f, an yo' suit me,' sez Rabbit, an' wid dat he lope off home an' 'low ter de ole ooman an' de chilluns dey betteh camp in de brier-patch dat night an' de nex day, kase de houn's wuz out. " Dey mo'n willin' ter go w'en dey hyeah dat, an' dey mo'n AND OTHER SORCERERS. 155 1 5 6 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, willin' ter say w'en dey ketch sight ob Gopheh's truck in dar." "What did Gopher do when he tasted what Rabbit gave him ? " interrupted the child, eagerly. " Ole Gopheh ? Huh 1 he season he suppeh wid cuss-wuhds, dat night, sholy, but e'en dat don't mek dat ole stuff go down easy an' stay dar. He set up wid hisse'f mos' all night, an' all de time he wuz a-layin' off ter lam dat ole vilyun ob er Rabbit ter frazzles. Wy, honey, he dat outdone dat w'en he drap off ter sleep, 'long todes mawnin', he dremp he cut Ole Rabbit's tho'at." OLE RABBIT AND HIS WIFE. " Oh, Aunt Emily, did he do it ? " " Tee-hee ! Not ez Ole Rabbit hyeah tell urn. De nex mawnin' hit wuz a-rainin' dat sorter onstudy rain dat flap shuttehs an' fling de daid leabes eroun', an' de nex night hit friz ter stay, so Gopheh don't git out ter do no sottlin'-up. " Ole Rab, he git back de respec' ob he ole ooman an' brag on hisse'f might'ly 'fo' de chilluns, but I done hyeah tell dat hit wuz er mighty lean gopheh dat corned out en de hill in de aige ob de orchard on de side nex' de buckwheat-fiel', de spring a-follerinV' AND OTHER SORCERERS. 157 The tale of Rabbit's rascality was received with an undue amount of laughter and applause, which, however, was suddenly suppressed by Granny stating emphatically, that when she had " mos' wo' out de marrer-bones cookin' choke-tatehs an* coffee- beans " she did not propose to have them u ruinated" H wiles er passel ob folks gin deyse'fs up ter de haw-haws (laughter)." This remark was construed as an invitation to partake of light refreshment ; so the " haw-haws " came to an abrupt ending and every one seriously addressed herself to showing her appreciation of Granny's little vegetable roasts. Tow Head, in particular, distinguished herself as a trencher-maid. She never had been able to make up her mind which she preferred, the beans or the artichokes, so she ate impartially of both, without a thought of her mother's hygienic rules and regulations. " Isn't it strange, Granny," she said, leaning back against her friend with a sigh of satisfaction, " that some people do not know that you must roast coffee-beans till they pop, else they'll be bitter and poisonous and make you very sick ? The new people in the red house on the hill never heard of them till I told them, and then they decided they were a kind of chestnut, and so they ate some raw and were awful sick." Everybody looked serious. Not from sympathy, however. No doubt such ignorant people were '* half-strainers " and not fit for association with the " quality " families. " They did not know artichokes either," pursued Tow Head, " till I 'splained they were the other end of sunflowers, and then the old lady said it was nice that they were good to look at, good to eat, and good to burn when they were dry." " De seeds mek good ile, an' dat ile mos' ez good foh croup ez goose-grease, dat /know," said Aunt Mymee. " De seeds good foh feed chickin an' mek um fat," added Big Angy. "Ef yo' putt er row of sun-flowehs 'twixt yo' an' de green 158 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO. pond, yo' am' gwine ter hab no fevah-an'-ageh," said Granny. Aunt Em'ly lifted the little girl from Granny's knee to her own, and began to trot her and sing with a comical inflection that set everybody to laughing and, for the time being, disposed of the sunflower's claims to pre-eminence : " Oh ! de sunfloweh grows an' so do de rose, An' pinies fine stan' in er line ; But I don't keer at all. Dey's des one posy grow fob me, Hit don't grow on no big tall tree, Hit's backy, backy, backy, Back ee, ba-a-a KEE." XL FOX TALES. AUNT MARY had gone to a " ball " at the house of a neighbour ten miles distant from her cabin in a bee-line. She and Uncle John had started off at sundown in the most sociable proximity ; Uncle John, as a matter of fact, bestriding his old claybank mare with great dignity, and Aunt Mary sitting behind him and clasping him closely round the waist as a necessary precaution against the tumbles, sure to follow otherwise, when old Sue affected to see in every stump a bear and in every strip of moonlight a deep-flowing river, and shied or baulked as seemed to suit the occasion. Granny had professed herself too old for the " foolishness " of balls, and Aunt Em'ly had not been invited, so the two cronies had " made hit up bechux " them to spend a quiet evening together. They were flavouring their reminiscences of the good old times with cold pork-and-cabbage and a modest glass apiece of hot whiskey and water, when Aunt Mymee and Tow Head dropped in for a call. It required no abnormal keenness of perception to discern that Aunt Mymee was in a very spiteful mood, and that her " ugliness," as Granny called it, was mainly directed towards Aunt Em'ly. In response to a faint invitation, she went to the cupboard and poured from a black bottle, whose existence was supposed to be a secret kept from the child, a generous 159 160 OLD RABBIT, 1HE VOODOO, potation. As she sipped it her temper not her heart seemed to expand with its genial warmth. Aunt Em'ly's son had " smacked the jaws " of her favourite grandson, and, although she had very little patience with the small imp herself, she was in a fine fury at the authoress of the smacker's being. " Ez I come 'long," she said, with an unpleasant smile, " I wuz study in' 'bout detn ar Fox Injuns dat use ter wuz hyeah, an' dat call in de membunce ob er tale dat I s'pec' HI missey gwine ter lak. Ain' yo' lak de tale 'bout de fox an' de wolf, HI honey ? " As every one knew, " honey " was always ready for any sort of a story, so Aunt Mymee was at once importuned to tell what was in her " membunce." Nothing loth to begin, with a chuckle that made Aunt Em'ly's soft heart quail, she related Hew RED Fox LOST PRAIRIE- WOLF'S DAUGHTER. " In de ole t'mes, w'en de likely gals wuzzent ez plenty ez dey am in dese times, Ole Perarer-Wolf he hed de gal dat wuz de fines' gal in de kyentry. All de men-crittehs fum fust ter las' dat wuzzent perwide wid podnehs (partner,) wuz des plum 'stractid arter dat yaller wolf-gal. She wuz er sassy critteh, dat gal wuz, an' she grin at all de beasteses, tuhn an' tuhn erbout, lak de gals do down ter dis day, but dey wuz one mighty big des diffunce twix dem time an' now, she hab heap mo' biggeh batch ter pick fum den ef she wuz on hans at dis minnit, an' dat mek er biggitty (proud), an' she fling up de haid an' tuhn up de nose w'en de beaux wanter slack up de co'tin' an' galli- vantin' an* settle down in de corndeh ter bussin' jaws, an* layin' plan foh keeping house an' ketchin' vittles. No, suh 1 she am' wanter settle down lak 'er mammy. " Bitneby, huh ole daddy, he riz up. He plum wo' out, he say, wid all de foolishness. He bin kip 'wake o' nights a-lissenin' at de gigglin' an' lallygaggin' (humbugging, chaff) ob er passel ob fools dat wuz a-rockin' deyse'fs in de bes' yarm- AND OTHER SORCERERS. 161 cheers an' a-w'arin' un um out, an' a-torkin' soft sodder w'en by de bes' rights in de worl' dey orter bin tekin' dey res', an' a-gittin' up dey strenk, ter flax roun' an' yearn dey libbin next dey, all he gwine ter. He des putt he foot down, dat gal gotter mek 'er ch'ice an' sottle down. He done gove in ter 'er traipsin' (tramping) round an' fetchin' home folk ter eat up de vittles an' git wait on by huh mammy, all he gwine ter. " Wen he say dat, de gal sniff an' pout, but 'tain' no use, an' she know dat, so, arter w'iles, she 'gin ter grin, an' ax 'er daddy an' mammy wut dey lay off ter gin 'er in de way ob close an' kittles. Den she study some who she gwine ter tek. " Bimeby, she sorter simple (simper) an' drap 'er eye, an* say she sorter kinder t'ink young Misteh Red Fox er mighty propeh man." '"Troof, too," interpolated Aunt Em'ly, delightedly. " He wuz er sweet torker, dat de troof," continued Aunt Mymee, without looking up ; " de one ain't bawn yit dat kin beat him a-settin' up ter de gals." " Troof ergin, troof ergin ! " exclaimed Aunt Em'ly. " Don't I know dat ? in co'se I does 1 Ise one ob de Fox family myse'f." " So 'twuz gin out," went on Aunt Mymee, evenly, " dat Misteh Red Fox wuz de man, an' all han's lay holt ter git ready fob de big weddin' at Perarer- Wolf's an' de gran' eenfair (in- fair, feast) de brer o' Red Fox gwine ter gib de young folks de day a-follerin'." " I boun' yo' dat eenfair wuz fine ! " exclaimed Aunt Em'ly, in delightful expectation. " Dat eenfair don't come off, nur no weddin n-er," said Aunt Mymee, coldly, " an' dis de way o' dat : Misteh Red Fox, he wuz a-settin' wid de fambly an' a-braggin' high on, an' sez 'e " ' I gwine ter hab er suit o' fine close des lak de w'ite folks has. I done spoke ter de taileh ter mek um, an Ise gwine ter 12 162 OLD RABBIT, THE VOODOO, hab de putties' shiny buttons onter dem close. Ise gwine ter hab two row down de front ob de coat an' two on de ves' an 1 some on de sleebes, and I tole de mon ter putt er button hyeah * " He wuz des 'bout ter retch roun' at de wais ob he coat, but dat minnit er big flea gin 'im er tumble bite an' he clap he han' ter de place (fleas is mighty bad in er wolf-house, mo' speshul in er perarer-wolf's, an' dey so techy 'bout hit yo' dassent let on dat yo' (you are) bit, an' Red Fox know dat, an' w'en he grab at de flea he let hit go at de button). " * Hyeah, I say ! ' dat mek de button on de knee. " * I tole 'im,' sez 'e, ergin, l ter putt er button hyeah ! f " He wuz des a-pintin' roun' ter de wais' wunst mo' w'en de flea tuck 'im in de ribs an' he clap he claw dar, ri' quick. u * Hyeah ! ' sez 'e ergin, de nex minnit. " Ole flea gin 'im er nip on de neck. " Wen he slap dat, he git er bite in de hip. u Hit kep up wid de bites an' de * put er button hyeah's ' twell Red Fox des wile, an' he scratch mos' evveywhurs. At de las', dat flea gin 'im er -mos' suh-vigrous (savage) bite on de nose, an' wiles he a-clawin' de place, dat pestehin' critteh git up an' git off. But, nemrnine ! dat ain't lef Red Fox ter j'y hisse'f ; de finishin' tech bin putt on Ole Perarer-Wolf. He bin gittin' madder an 1 madder des ri* straight erlong, an' w'en Red Fox 'low he gwine ter hab er button * hyeah,' an' clap he claw 'pon de eend ob he nose, Ole Perarer-Wolf, he des bustid fo'th. " ( Ki ! ' sez e', ' I done prube (I proved) I wuz in de rights,' sez 'e, ' w'en I sot hit down dat yo' wuz er plum ijit ' (idiot), sez 'e ; 4 1 ain't bin nowise sot up (pleased with) wid dis bizniz fum de staht,' sez 'e, ' but I gin in ter de gal an' huh mammy, but now I tek my stan',' sez 'e, ' an' all de woman'-folks in de world ain't gwine ter swage (persuade) me ter hab er mon in my fambly dat wanter look lak de toadstools a-growin' outen 'im/