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.