The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1905-05-28
old WIVES FABLES AND THE
~ HOSTS WHO BELIEVE IN THEN.
r H. WHITAKER
BY REV. r. H. WHITAKER.

"And, said the visitor, 81 overhead
a remark made by another lady to hef
daughter, who had started to school.
| but came back after a book she left:
Mary Jane, what did you come
back for?"
II left my reader" the girl answer
ed
How far did you get before you
| turned back?"
ITO the fork of the roads"
Did you make cross mark and
| spit in it, when you turned back?"
Nom, forgot that"
You'll be sure TO get a bad mark
today. Whenever you start anywhere
and turn back, don't you never for
get to make a cross mark, on the
ground, and spit in it, if you want to
keep off bad luck"
No, we are not superstitious-o1
course not-but the "old wives fables"
have come on down from generation
to generation, and all unconsciously.
we are more or less influenced by
them. There's not a particle of rea-
son or sense in any of those old say
ings; but, we've heard them, from our
childhood, and they are so woven into
our nature as to give coloring to our
faith and shape to our conduct. We
know better, but, somehow, we can't
shake off the old spell of superstition
that has, from the darker ages, even
down to this day, more or less controll-
ed peoples actions. 1t seems ridicu-
lous yet, it is true, nevertheless, that
an educated, strong minded, brave
man will carry in his pocket the left
forefoot of a graveyard rabbit, to
give him good luck. If I am not mis-
taken, / saw the statement, that one
of our Presidents had one in the pock-
ct, a few years ago. And, it would
be interesting to know how many
very valorouS young men there are
aspiring to become the protectors of
the weaker sex, who are depending
upon the charms and magical inf1u-
ences of the feet of graveyard rabbits,
for success in their suits, as we'll as
for the achievements of all after life.
Of course, we are not superstitious;
as an old saw used to run: Eve deny
the allegation and defy the alligator"
but, all the same, we can't help think
ing of things we heard in childhood,
when the negro mammies were oracles,
and, we little children hung upon their
words with a delight mixed with an
awe and reverence, tnat, none of the
after stories of life, ever inspired IN
us.
Uncle Hall" and Aunt Rosa" were
the oldest negroes my father owned,
when / was a child; and, while they
fond of them, / used to think they
were afraid of each other I never
heard "Uncle Hail. say much about
her, but Aunt Rose used to say, as she
would put on a mysterious air, and
shake her head: That's a queer mig
ger and, it's the God-a-mity's truth, Use
scared o. Hall. He gifts up all times O.
mite and goes roun' in de jam of de
chimbly, and talks to hisself, and gifts
ole grubbin' hoe, and digs a little
hole, heer en- dar, and jabbers and
jibbers, jes' same es if he was a
preechin; den, he'll cum back, and
lay down a little while, and de mex
thing / no., he's gwine out agin. Use
sholy 'fraid O. dat niger. But, poor
creeter, he can't help it, he's hat
injun ennyhow, and totner half gin
ny niger; how could he do emmy bet
tern he dus when bofe of his parents
was wild folks?"
Where did he come from, Aunt
Rose?" / asked
81 can't tell you, honey. whar he
did cum from. He was raised way
down de kentry: I disremember whar
it was; but I've hearn him talk sight
bout de Ro'noke river. en- it must o
bin sum war down in dat kentry. 1t
was sum place war de pepul was nifty
bad, fer dey had Free Masons. and ell
sorts of bad pepul, who'd kill folks;
an I've hearn him say how dem Free
Masons like to kilt him wun mite"
Howe" | asked. while the hair be-
gan to rise on my head. How did
they like to kill him ?"
well wun mite he and sum more
boys was gwine erlong de rode, en-
dey seed a lite in a ole house, an hearn
sich a noise, dey thought they'd slip
up close to de door and find out who
1t was in dar 1t turned out, bless yer
soul, honey, twas dem Free MaSons;
en- dey'd jes' killed man en- was a
talkin' bout where dey was gwine to
bury him, jes' es Hall got down on
his knees to peep under de door. He
hadn't more'n got on his knees, and
looked up de ile fore dar cum a black
flee dog, bout es big as cat, trotting
rite down to de door, and smelt under
de door and barked three times. Den
he trotted back, de flee dog did, to de
pulpit whar man was setting with a
big hat on his head, and barked three
times dar. Den, fore de pore Niger
had time to git up and git err way, de
dore flew. wide open, and out cum a
man, his he'd as white as snow, and
his eyes as big as pewter plates. look
ing like balls of fire: and he had in
his hand great long sword. ies a
drippin' wild blud, from KILN dat
luther man; and he sed. es he swiped
de sword dis way and dat way: Death
to all eavesdroppers!"
did he kill him % I asked in my ex-
element, but, of course, I knew they
didn't.
"No. honey. they didn't kill him. Es
luck would have it, de man wild de
sword stumbled and fell. es he run out
in de dark. and dat give de pore chile
a chance fer his life. Here dey went
down de road-the little Niger and
de man, wild de sword, rite at his heels,
cutting and swiping at ev'ry step. De
Ro'noke river was rite cross de rode |
en- dey was fiat at de landing; and
when dat pore chile jumped of'n de
eend o. dat fiat inter de river, dat Free
Mason was so close to him dat ne
cotch his hat on de pint O. his sword +!
as he went under de water
Aunt Rose" I asked, chow did |
Uncle Hall get out of the river?"
"He just fioated aroun till he got |
to de bank, and got holt a grape vine |
and pulled his self out
Being quiet just long enough to let |
me absorb what she had said, She |
continued:
eyes, them Free Masons is de worse /!
folks in de worl', 1 du reckon, from all |
accounts. When deys gwine to kill |
a man, dey chokes him wild a rope, |
and skins him alive, and den chops !