aised
with the best class of whites, he had absorbed many of their virtues,
while in those around him were many who were but a few generations
removed from the cowardice of darkest Africa.

"I nurver hit you a lick you didn't deserve, suh, I nurver had you
whipped but once an' dat wus for stealin' a horg which you sed
yo'se'f you stole. You ken do wid me es you please," he went on, "you
am menny an' kin do it, an' I am ole an' weak. But ef you hes got
enny soul, spare de po' ole 'oman who ain't nurver dun nothin' but
kindness all her life. De berry chile you say she witched hes hed
'leptis fits all its life an' Cheerity ain't dun nuffin' but take it
medicine to kwore it. Don't hurt de po' ole 'oman," he exclaimed.

"Let 'em do whut dey please wid me, Bisco," she said: "Dey can't do
nuffin' to dis po' ole body but sen' de tired soul on dat journey
wher de buterful room is already fix fur it, es you read dis berry
night. But spare de ole man, spare 'im fur de secun' blessin' which
Gord dun promised us, an' which boun' ter cum bekase Gord can't lie.
O Lord," she said suddenly, "remember thy po' ole servants dis
night."

But her appeals were fruitless. Already the "witch council" of the
blacks was being formed to decide their fate. And it was an uncanny
scene that the moon looked down on that night, under the big trees on
the banks of the Tennessee. They formed in a circle around the "Witch
Finder," an old negro whose head was as white as snow, and who was so
ignorant he could scarcely speak even negro dialect.

Both his father and mother were imported from Africa, and the former
was "Witch Finder" for his tribe there. The negroes said the African
Witch Finder had imparted his secret only to his son, and that it had
thus been handed down in one family for many generations.

The old negro now sat upon the ground in the center of the circle. He
was a small, bent up, wiry-looking black, with a physiognomy closely
resembling a dog's, which he took pains to cultivate by drawing the
plaits of his hair down like the ears of a hound, while he shaped his
few straggling strands of beard into the under jaw of the same
animal. Three big negroes had led him, blind-folded, into the circle,
chanting a peculiar song, the music of which was weird and uncanny.
And now as he sat on the ground the others regarded him with the
greatest reverence and awe. It was in one of the most dismal portions
of the swamp, a hundred yards or two from t