NEGRO STORIES
The Experiences of Uncle Dean, the Rail SplitterRev. James Byrns, in his graphic sketch, intimates that the Negroes gave the most thrilling accounts of the witch operations, but he seems to regard Negro testimony as unreliable and declines to quote their sayings; on general principles no doubt. But in this the good man is mistaken. He has not studied the Negro character along this line. The colored brother may prevaricate in regard to a chicken roost; he may be extravagant in describing a coon fight; he may dilate humorously on his possum dog; he may spin fine yarns about the golden pavements in the New Jerusalem and the angels sopping possum gravy with ash cakes and "taters;" he may mislead one in regard to the contents of his gourd bottle; he may be weak on the subject of watermelons, and tell fine stories on Bre'r Rabbit sitting in the fence corner picking briars out of his feet, but when it comes to haunts, he is the most reliable witness on earth. The Negro may be off and crooked on some things, but under no circumstance will he tell a lie on a ghost, nor deviate a single hair's breadth from the truth in establishing the existence of the spooks. The purpose of the writer is to go to the bottom of this witch history and give all of the inside facts, and this cannot be done if Sambo is ignored. No such a history would be complete without the stories of Uncle Dean, the famous rail-splitter, and trusty servant of John Bell, who had many contacts with the witch. Therefore the writer paid a special visit to Aunt Ibby Gunn, who was a servant of Alex. Gunn, and resides at Cedar Hill, Tenn., with her children, happy and cheerful, and at this writing is eighty-six years of age, as appears from the Gunn family record -- born October 25, 1806. She was the younger sister of Dean's wife, Kate. They were daughters of Uncle Zeke, a pompous old darkie who belonged to Rev. Thomas Gunn, and felt elevated by the pious and dignified character of his master.
Dean and the Black Dog Witch
Dean and the Two-Headed Dog Witch
Aunt Ibby is the only survivor of the Negro families who lived in that vicinity in the beginning of the Witch history. Being approached on the subject she replied: "Course I members bout dar witch, cause it cum wid Dean to see hiz wife, fur she was my sister, an I done want no mo boderation by dem spirits nudder, I dont." Aunt Ibby was disposed to stop at this. She did not care to discuss haunts, lest the demons might return to disturb her. Being assured, however, that the witch had become very rich and aristocratic, and had long since gone to Europe on a pleasure, trip, promising not to return during her life time, she consented to tell some things that Dean said about it. "De fust time Dean seed der speritation he sed it appeared like a big black dog, jest trottin long afore him tipity tipity tip, to de door, an den banish. Dean sed how he warnt fraid, but I seed he ware mighty pale; den he tuck to fetchin hiz axe, kase dat dog cum wid him eber time, an den banish, sorter pericatin in der transfiction, jest gwine all ter pieces, risin like sparks when yer chunk der fire. Den hit got to pesterin old Mister Bell so bad, jabbin all der vitals outen hiz mouf wid a stick, Dean was sorter confuscated bout what ter do, cause dat sort uv carrication wuz pecteratin on der appetude, an spoilin er heap of good eatin. Den Kate she tuck and made Dean a witch ball outen her hair, an put in sum spunk, foxfire and such, and some brimstone an camfire, den wrapped hit all ober wid yarn an hair, an gave Dean der ball tu keep der dog frum hurtin him. So der nex night, cumin long der road whistlin he wuz, sumpen said, ‘Dean what makes you whistle so lonesum, jest dar away.” Dean sez, “Kase ize gwinter see my wife.’ Den hit sez, ‘Dean what's dat yous got in yer pocket?’ Dean sez, ‘Nullin.’ Den hit sez, ‘Dean you knows dats er lie, kase yous got fox fire wrapped up in yer wife's hair tu pester me. I'll sho you Mr. Smarty you can't congergate me dat way,’ jest so. Dean he got down on hiz knees tu pray. Den hit sez, ‘Lord Jesus, Dean, what er fool yer is; done yer know yer can't pray like ole Sugar Mouf? Git up frum dar an sho yer foxfire.’ Sez Dean, sez he, just so ‘In der name of der Lord what's yer gwine ter do tu me?’ Den it sez, ‘Cepen you give me dar ball Ise gwine ter turn you tu a hoss an ride you cross der river to der stillhouse.’ Den Dean tuck der ball outen hiz pocket, an hit commenced swellin bigger an er fodder stack, an he had ter drap it, he did, an der ball busted an tuck fire, blazin up, an almost stunk hiz bref away, But dat warnt nuffin; dar wuz dar same black dog wid his mouf wide open grinin jest redy tu jump on im, an Dean he cum down wid hiz axe, he did, and split dar dogs head wide open, an staved der axe clear down in der ground so deep he coulden find it no more. De dog he turned ober an ober three times, kicked, an den jumped up mose outer sight an fell kerflop on dat fox fire, and der ball riz right up an shot off in er blaze like er star. Dean he lit out, he did, and he never stopped till he run agin der door an busted hit wide open, an fell on der floor, pale as er white sheet. For God! Dat ****'s eyes done come clean outen hiz head. Kate she tuck to rubin him wid cam fire an old berdildoc til he cum to his self an told all about this, and der next time Dean seed dat dog, it had two heads."
How Dean Was Turned into a Mule
Dean Changed into a Mule by Two Witches
Dean had another thrilling and most frightful experience with the witches, which he told to Alex. Gunn and others, after relating the same transaction described in Aunt Ibby's interview. Said he, "I told Kate an Uncle Zeke bout how dat ball tuck fire shootin off wid dat dog after I split his head open, an sartin az your bawned, Mars Alex, but fur dat ball I’d been a gone ****. Den Kate she tuck an made me a nudder ball an put some other spiritifications in it, cept them what wus in der first ball; some sort er Injun congerations jest like her fader said. Den she told me dat der witch couldn't do nuffin long as I kept dat ball in my pocket; an if I give it up any mo dar wud be der last of me, jest so. Den I tuck der ball in my pocket, I did, feelin pretty certain it was gwinter stay der dis time, an it did. Den sar, Mars Alex, der nex time I went by der wood pile an tuck my axe on my shoulder, cause I depends a heap on my axe, an went along outen der gate whistlin like I didn't care fur nuffin, an goin along up der lane, dar sat dat same black dog wid two heads an both moufs open grinnin at me, he wuz, showin his big white teeth. I sorter stopped, I did, Den sez I, ‘In der name of der Lord what's dat?’ Jest so, den sumpen sed, ‘Dean you can’t pass here cepten you give me dat ball in yo pocket,’ Jest so, den I membered what Kate an Uncle Zeke said how der witch couldn’t do nuffin cepen hit got my ball. Sez I, ‘What's yo name?’ ‘My name is Black Dog; you knows me, you black rascal, cause you's done an split my head open wid yo axe,’ Jest so, den sez I, ‘I haut got no ball, yo tuck it tudder time.’ Den it sez, ‘You's a liar Dean, I knows you's done an got er hudder ball worsser dan der fust one, cause you is dun an fetched er whole heap of trouble on me.’ Den sez I, ‘If you won’t lemme pass, I kin go back.’ Jest so, den I sorter walked backwards, back, back, back, tel I got clean outen sight, an den turned round ter run. An befo God dar was dar same dog on tudder side wid his mouth wide open. I tells you, Mars Alex, I felt a heep wusser, like I wus kerflumuxed, but it warnt goin to give up, an I jest resolved in my mind to fight it out, cause dar warnt no udder choice. Den sez I, 'What you want?’ Jest so, den it sez, ‘Cepen you gimme dar ball Ise gwinter turn you to a hoss an ride you ober der river to der still-house.' Den I membered again what Kate an Uncle Zeke said, how dar want no dependence in what a Injun spirit said, an if I give up dat ball I’d be a dead **** right dar, cause dat ghost ware mad. Den I solved to depend on dat ball and my axe, and sed, ‘I aint goin ter give you my ball, an I’ll split you clean open tu der tail cepen you git outen my way,’ Jest so, den hit sez, ‘Say yer prayers Dean, an I commenced gittin weak, an draped my axe, cause I felt er curious spell creepin on me. Den sumpen sed, ‘Pick up your axe Dean,’ and I stooped ober feelin fur der axe an cudden find it, an cudden git up no mo, an dar I stood on my hands an feet. Den sumpen sed, ‘He's tu high behind to tote dubble.’ Er hudder sed, ‘Dats all right, level im down.’ Den sumpen jerked my tail, an I kicked backwards wid one foot an hit fell kerflop in der road. Bout dis time der ole jack brayed an one witch sed, ‘Dar, bad luck, dat spoilt der job; he's nuffin but er dam mule.’ Tother one said, ‘Well, you can't make nuffin but er mule outen er dam ****, no how.’ Den da commenced cussin an fussin bout which one was gwinter ride befo an behind. One says, ‘Der mule hant got no main fur sturips an bridle ter hold to, an my arms are too short to catch his ears.’ Den da both hopped up; de little witch got on behind an sed, ‘Now les ride him to hell fur breakfast.’ Den de big witch stretched both hands out an tuck me by der ears, an quicker dan da knowed nuffin, I tucked my head, jumped backwards, an kicked them clean over my back, an sat dem witches down ca-whallup on tudder side of der fence in der field, an I tuck out and went taren up der lane, an never stopped runnin tell I got to Kate's door an commenced pawin till I pawed der door open, an there sat Kate mendin my old britches, an seein her by der light it tuck der spell off, and I was myself again. I tells you, Mars Alex, but fur Kate's hair ball dem witches would of rid me all night, an where wud I be now? When I heard dem talkin bout ridin me to hell fur breakfast I was der most scared mule you eber seed, cause it appeared like a mighty long rocky road down hill for me ter tote double an skip in before sun up. Den I didn’t know bout cumin back any mo. Den what wud I look like walkin round dar among gentlemen wid my ole rail-splitin clothes on? What would ole master say when he got up an found me missin? I tells you, Mars Alex, it ware a mighty solemn confusion what perigated round my prehension bout dat time.”
How Dean Got His Head Busted
Dean Accosted by the "Rabbit" Witch
There are many persons still living in Robertson County who remember Uncle Dean. He lived to a very old age, and was noted throughout the surrounding country as the famous rail-splitter, a distinction which he was very proud of, though it did not elect him to the presidency of the United States. However, had he lived in later years, he might have walked Abraham Lincoln's log. The Negroes and children in the neighborhood delighted in gathering around the old darkie to hear his hair-raising witch stories. Dean carried a prominent scar on his forehead, which gave his physiognomy a very conspicuous cast. A good lady connected with the Bell family, describing Dean to the writer, says he declared to the day of his death that this scar was caused by an unpleasant contact with “Kate,” the witch, in which he was knocked in the head with a big stick. Dean was a great possum hunter; Autumn came in all of its glory. The luscious persimmon was ripe, and possums fat and plentiful, and Dean's heart panted for the woods, as did his appetite long for "possum and taters." His mind was bent on a round with the "varments," but a very serious dilemma was presented in the contemplation of the sport. His experience with "Black Dog" warned him of the danger in venturing out without his witch ball, and it was certain that no game could be found if he carried it; no dog could trail a possum after catching the scent of a witch ball. So it was, Dean turned the matter over and over in his mind, and kept a sharp lookout for "Kate." He determined to make use of the first favorable opportunity that presented. Finally the time came. Hearing the Witch in the house carrying on at a great rate with the visitors, he concluded that was the opportunity to make a short round, and return before “Kate” adjourned the meeting. So he swung his axe over his shoulder, whistled to old Caesar and struck out. Next morning Dean was missing, and Mr. Bell was very uneasy for a time, but soon after breakfast he showed up with a great gash in his cranium and was very bloody.
“What's the matter now Dean?” inquired Mr. Bell. “De witch dun had me for a fact, ole mars, an for God's sake, it liked ter killed me, it did. Cepten fur thinken bout whose gwinter split der rails, I specs that I'd of given up. Cause I knowed dar warn’t gwinter be no mo rails split here cepten I done it. Dats all dat saved me sar, fur a fact it was.” “How did it happen Dean?” again inquired Mr. Bell. “Well ole mars, Ise gwinter to tell der truf bout it, dar I iz. For God sake, it was jest dis way. I heard de ole witch in der house speakin wid de white folks bout religion. Den I concluded it was a mighty good time ter go out an kotch er possum fur dinner Sunday, supposin I cud git back before de witch knowed it. So I slips off round der field, an directly old Caesar he treed a big possum up on top of dat high stump side of der fence. I jest left him dar, cause I knowed he warn’t gwinter git away from ole Caesar. Den I tuck an cut down a little saplin bout six foot long, an split one end of it, den tuck der possum down an pull his tail through der split, an layed him down ter git my axe. Den I hears sumpen cummin down other side of de fence, tipity tipity tip, tipity tipity tip, and der next ting. I knowed, dar stood a great big ole rabbit, an Caesar he tuck out he did. Den I knowed sumpen war gwinter happen, cause dar dog neber lef me fo dis. Den de old rabbit said, ‘Hello, Kernel Possum, what's all er dat ornamentation you got on yer tail?’ Jest so, den der possum said, "Oh Kernel Rabbit, Ise so glad yous cum; dis aint no ornamentation, hit am er split stick Dean put on my tail to keep me from gittin away. Oh it am hurtin so bad. Please Kernel take hit off.’ Den Kernel Rabbit, he said, 'Why aint you like me, Kernel Possum; don't hab no tail, den de niggers cant put split stick on yer.’ Den Kernel Possum sed, ‘If I done hab no tail like you, how's I gwinter hold on to der limbs an shake simmons down fur you? ‘Dats so, sez Kernel Rabbit, jest take er way. ‘Den Kernel Rabbit he commenced swellin like blowin up like a bladder, tell he got bigger den Mars Frank Miles an he tuck holt of dat stick and jerked der split wide open, he did, an told Kernel Possum to go on an shake dat simmon tree. Den he turned round to me, Kernel Rabbit did, an sez, ‘Dean, I'll learn you sum sense bout puttin er poor possum's tail in der split stick. Next thing you'll be twisten all of my hide off tu get me outen de hollow.’ Den he hit me kerwhack on der head wid dat stick, an I knowed nuffin mo til sun up.”
This explanation satisfied "old mars," and he told Dean to go to Aunt Chloe and let her bandage his head, and lay up until he got well, and hereafter always wrap the possum's tail around his thumb and carry it in his hand, and never draw another one through the split of a stick. From that day to this, no one in this part of the country has been guilty of the barbarous act of drawing a “po” possum’s tail through the split of a stick, or of twisting a rabbit out of a hole.
