HAUNTED PLACES ON THE ISLAND; THE GOOD OLD MAN THAT EMPLOYED THE CONJURER; CHICKENS BEWITCHED; WITCH PICTURE SHOT WITH SILVER; SPELL OFF; MAC AND I; UNCLE JOHNNY BEASLEY THE STORY TELLER; WITCH DANCES AND WITCH RIDINGS.

The people of this Island, as well as the county, indeed I may add the greater portion of the people of the United States in those days, were and had been saturated with the haunt, ghost and other like illusions; it was born in them, and remained in them, up to and after the writer was born.

There were some notable places on this Island that were haunted." Some of these follow:

The Bridge on the public road through the Dennis Simmons' (Peter Tract), where, in the night time, when people were passing by, could be heard a noise as if all the limbs of the surrounding trees were breaking off and coming down with a tremendous crashing; Second: Another place was at the north east corner of the field of the Joshua Beasley or Malachi Waterfield tract, at the turn of the path that led by Uncle Johnny Beasley's home, where something resembling a large black sheep or yearling could be seen and heard coming with a rush; it would jump over the traveller's head and be gone; Third: This place was at the "bear-tree stump" on the public road near Uncle Mac's home, where one stormy evening, about sundown he saw a fodder stack planted squarely in the road in front of him; it kept ahead of him for some time ere he took fright and left. Uncle Mac and family had been at our home that day, it being a better storm shelter, and had started home to "feed up" when this fodder stack challenged him--he didn't feed up. This stump was nearly opposite where the house of the present Cabe Ansell now stands; this stump was what remained of the ancient "bear-tree." Other sights also were seen there. Fourth: This haunted place was at a cluster of oak stumps on the public road near to and north of the Methodist Church, called the "Wash Oak Stumps," where it was said, the female population thereabouts in olden times did their washing, at a spring; shrouded female ghosts could be seen leaning against these stumps; old time washers come back to terrify and "haunt" the then present inhabitants, who had stopped the washing, cut the oaks, and neglected the spring. Fifth: The fifth place for "haunts," ghosts and unearthly noises and Jack-with-his-lantern (which betokened a place of spirits) was on the road leading through "Holly-tree-branch." While there are many other places deserving the name of "haunted," those mentioned were so well known that scores of people could be found to verify these places as such, persons who themselves had seen and heard. Besides, many old haunted houses were here and there (as in Coinjock) to be found, where doors flew open after being locked or latched, and where unearthly footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

A CONJURE YARN

In the writer's first recollection, there was as much ado on the line of conjuration as of witchcraft; indeed, the craft of the conjurer was continually invoked to take off "spells" that had been put on persons, stock, chickens, and other living creatures. Dozens of startling yarns of general circulation could be brought forward in this department.

I will give you one which will afford a clear insight into the many demands for conjurers and the methods of relief practiced by them. There was a good old man on the Island, a leader in the church, who handled not and touched not the things unclean; yet, he believed in conjuration, and on one occasion went across the sound to Currituck court-house to get an old guggler residing thereabouts to go home with him and take a "spell" off his chickens.

These old conjurers were always prepared for such calls, and their pockets and wizard sacks were habitually stored ful1 of bundles, great and small, wrapped up with unsightly rags, and containing hair, toe-nails, salt, feathers, rusty nails and other conjuring materials.

I recollect the evening that this good old man arrived with his wizard name "Blue Foot." The old fraud surveyed the premises; crawled under the crib or barn, and when he came out he had a bundle wrapped and stuffed as aforesaid. He then told this old man that it, this bundle, was put thereby a witch, that had so affected his fowl; and he then named the witch that did it. It was not hard work for this faker to pump dry this old man while journeying home with him; and at the time of performing the operation he, no doubt, could have named every one on the Island accused by this credulous old man.

He now told the old man to draw the witch's picture on a board, and shoot it with silver money cut in pieces. The pictures was roughly drawn and shot with the fragments of a nine-pence, and the figure was struck on the knee. So, it was said by the believers, upon that very night this witch was taken with a pain in the knee, which continued to her end.

The writer, then a small boy, knew this person called witch, and he now knows it was a case of rheumatism pure and simple, just like scores of others, and knows that she was suffering from it long before the shooting.

No more chickens died, it was said, for there was no bundle of witchcraft for them to walk over.

MAC AND I; UNCLE JOHNNY THE STORY TELLER THE ROSE BUSH

Mac and I were cousins and chums. We were small boys and lived near each other.

We would seek the company of the old folks of the neighborhood, who would spin us yarns about Indians in the first settlement of this country, Jack and his house in the bean-stalk, and of witches, haunts and ghosts.

Often at nights we could be found at the home of Uncle Johnny Beasley, who would tell us many old English legends and stories, purporting to have happened in the olden time, about London Bridge, stories that were brought over by our forefathers. He told us why some people in scenting their lard at hog killings would not use rosemary. It was because the bush was brought to America by a witch, in a small bark boat. One morning, at the rising of the sun, this witch in her bark boat with the rosemary bush, was seen coming up from the ocean, through old Currituck Inlet. This Inlet was not the old Inlet we hear so much about now, but was about six miles north of it, and where the North Carolina and Virginia states' line now is. This rosemary bush was set in the soil of Knotts' Island by this old witch; hence, many would not use it for the purposes above indicated; it was witchy, and many, no doubt, to this day will not use it on this account; and Coinjockers don't like its flavor--ah.

The stories brought from England by our forefathers delighted us, but when Uncle Johnny began to unravel his experiences with the witches, "haunts," and spirits that had harrassed him and others in his young days on Knotts Island, we would be found in fearful gloom, so that often he would have to see us home. Witches and wizards, as has been stated before, frequently turned their subjects into horses, if they wished to ride to one of their jollification meetings in the near-by woods. So, one night Uncle Johnny had been expatiating on these meeting places of the witches and wizards, and he told us, if we wished to see a notable place of this sort, come next Saturday-evening and he would show us one.

When it arrived we were on time. He carried us to a place on the margin of the "Dry Swamp," about one hundred and fifty yards southeast of the present Methodist Church, where stood a cluster of dwarf white oaks, and said: "Do you see that oak limb and that hole under it?" We saw the oak limb and by imagination, likely, a depression in the ground. "I have been hitched to that limb a dozen times in company of a dozen other horses hitched around to other limbs." Then again: "You see that clear place out there?" Yes, we did. "In that clear place the witches and wizards would have a fire in cold weather, around which they had their jollification dances, while we horses were shivering and shaking with the cold. When the first dawn of day was observed, their merry-making came suddenly to an end and each one would straddle its horse, apply the spur and in swift run would land us to our respective homes and then and there transform us. If they were belated in finishing the last turn of the dance, the transformation would take place on the dance ground; in that case we had to make our way home in our night-clothes."

Such tales hatched in dreams were more vivid and real in those days than now. Dream events became real, and immovably fixed in the minds of the dreamers; parental tuition was responsible. These people did not mean to err; they were telling the truth as they saw it; they were held in the neighborhood as upright, truthful men, and they were. These fancied visions with them became real, that's all.

No wonder then, children hearing such startling yarns when young, would grow up with the fear of witches, ghosts and other hobgobblings. Then what a task, if ever, to eradicate its tendency.

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