Page:Journal of American Folklore vol. 12.djvu/557

The effort to extend folk-lore investigations in the South will no doubt bear valuable fruit, but the work is going to be somewhat slow and difficult, I fear.

The importance of the material is not sufficiently appreciated, even among cultured people. If they can be made to understand that the folk-lore of a people is part of the history of that people, they will doubtless awaken to active appreciation.

The publication, some months since, in this Journal, of an article entitled "Some Mountain Superstitions of the South," brought to me several contributions of folk-lore, and from them I have selected the following.

Mr. William T. Howard, of Lancing, Tenn., was reared in the Cumberland Mountains. I know him as a reliable man. He writes that some years since, while collecting for a sewing-machine company, he passed three days at the home of a Mr. Massengale, in Scott County. Mr. Massengale was then about eighty years of age, but was as physically and mentally vigorous as most men in middle life. He was a strong believer in witchcraft, and some of the stories which he related Mr. Howard has given me in the old gentleman's own language, as nearly as he can recall it.

"For many years," said he, "I made my living by hunting, and many deer, bear, turkeys, and all sorts of varmints to be found in these mountings, have I killed:

"I was considered a powerful good shot with a rifle, and that I certainly was.

"One morning, howsom'ever, I went out, and the first thing I knew I had a fine shot at a big deer, which was standing stock-still, broadside toward me. I raised my gun, took good aim, and expected of course to drop him dead in his tracks. But I missed him, point blank. He made a few jumps and then stood stock-still until I had wasted three shots on him, and had n't cut a hair. Then he ran off.

"This sort of thing went on for several days. I had lots of powerful fine close shots, but could n't hit a thing.

"I told my wife that there was something awful wrong, either with me or with the gun. She told me I had better go to the witch-doctor, as it was likely my gun was bewitched.

"I went to the witch-doctor, who told me to go into the woods near a certain house, pick out a tree, and name it after the woman