SPIRITS, SEEN AND UNSEEN 
wit’ da’ pot-licker grease; rub noung heifer ’pon ’e nose; git ’pon 
’e bahck. Mus’ hoi’ um by ’e year; mus’ go gallop, gallop down 
da’ lane, tel ’e do come ’cross one-a big gully. Mus’ holler, 
‘ Double, double, double up ! double, double, double up! ’ Heifer jump, 
oona witch; heifer no jump, oona no witch.” 
“Did you ever ride a heifer, Daddy Jack?” asked the little 
boy. 
“Mo’ tam es dem,” replied the old negro, holding up the 
crooked fingers of one withered hand. 
“Did — did she jump across the big gully?” 
The child’s voice had dropped to an awed whisper, and there 
was a glint of malicious mischief in Daddy Jack’s shrewd eyes, 
as he looked up at Uncle Remus. He got his cue. Uncle Remus 
groaned heavily and shook his head. 
“Hoo!” exclaimed Daddy Jack, “wun I is bin-a tell all, dey 
no mo’ fer tell. Mus’ kip some fer da’ Sunday. Lilly b’y no fred 
dem witch; ’e no bodder lilly b’y. Witch, ’e no rassel wit’ ’e ebry- 
day ’quaintan’; ’e do go pars ’e own place.” 
It was certainly reassuring for the child to be told that witches 
did n’t trouble little boys, and that they committed their depre¬ 
dations outside of their own neighborhood. 
“I is bin-a yeddy dem talk ’bout ole witch. ’E do leaf ’e skin 
wey ’e is sta’t fum. Man bin-a come pars by; ’e is fine dem skin. 
’E say:— 
“‘Ki! ’E one green skin; I fix fer dry um.’ 
“Man hang um by da’ fier. Skin, ’e do swink, i’ do swivel. 
Bumbye ’e do smell-a bahd; man, ’e hoi’ ’e nose. ’E do wait. 
Skin swink, skin stink, skin swivel. ’E do git so bahd, man pitch 
um in da’ ya’d. ’E wait; ’e is wait, ’e is lissen. Bumbye, ’e yeddy 
da’ witch come. Witch, e’ do sharp’ ’e claw on-a da’ fence; ’e is 
snap ’e jaw — flick ! flick! flick ! ’E come-a hunt fer him skin. ’E 
fineum. ’E trey um on dis way;’e no fit. ’E trey um on dat way; 
’e no fit. ’E trey um on turrer way; ’e no fit. ’E pit um ’pon ’e 
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