'If an ignorant negro is smitten with a disease which he cannot
comprehend, he often imagines himself the victim of witchcraft,
and having no faith in 'white folks' physic' for such ailments,
must apply to one of these quacks. A physician residing near this
city was invited by such a one to witness his mode of procedure
with a dropsical patient for whom the physician in question had
occasionally charitably prescribed. Curiosity led him to attend the
seance, having previously informed the quack that since the case was
in such hands he relinquished all connection with it. On the coverlet
of the bed on which the sick man lay was spread a quantity of bones,
feathers, and other trash. The charlatan went through with a series of
so-called conjurations, burned feathers, hair, and tiny fragments of
wood in a charcoal furnace, and mumbled gibberish past the physician's
comprehension. He then proceeded to rip open the pillows and bolsters,
and took from them some queer conglomerations of feathers. These he
said had caused all the trouble. Sprinkling a whitish powder over them,
he burnt them in his furnace. A black offensive smoke was produced,
and he announced triumphantly that the evil influence was destroyed
and that the patient would surely get well. He died not many days
later, believing, in common with all his friends and relatives, that
the conjurations of the 'trick doctor' had failed to save him only
because resorted to too late.'
The following account of a spell from which his wife was rescued,
was given me by a negro in Virginia:--
'The wizard,' to quote the exact words of my informant, 'threw a stick
on a chest; the stick bounded like a trapball three times; then he
opened the chest, took out something looking like dust or clay, and
put it into a cup with water over a fire; then he poured it over a
board (after chopping it three times), which he then put up beneath
the shingles of the house. Returning to the chest he took a piece of
old chain, near the length of my hand, took a hoe and buried the chain
near the sill of the door of my wife's house where she would pass;
then he went away. I saw my wife coming and called to her not to pass,
and to go for a hoe and dig up the place. She did this, and I took
up the chain, which burned the ends of all my fingers clean off. The
same night the conjuror came back: my wife took two half dollars and
a quarter in silver and threw them on the ground before him. The man
seemed as if he was shocked, and then offered her his hand, which
she refused to take, as I had bid her not to let him touch her. He
left and never came to the house again. The spell was broken.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account