black hen and white rooster, and then wait for luck when he ought to be making power for himself I do know that all negroes, and not a few white people who have been raised with them, believe that black hens, split open and applied to the body warm, will cure typhoid or bilious fever, and stay the progress of cancer.
For sacrifice, Alexander says the way to kill the hen is to slit her side and let the entrails protrude, then turn her loose; she will run a little way, then jump up into the air, crow like a cock, and die instantly without any struggle. I asked what was then done with her. He said, "Nothing."
Under date of December 20th, 1889, a distinguished scholar asked me these questions:
"Where are these dances held? I mean, in what district or districts? How is it possible that large gatherings can be concealed from observation? What is the nature of the hierarchy? Is your King Alexander a king among these people? Have you yourself seen the dances? How could you otherwise be initiated? If you have not access to these, can you not procure the attendance of some male friend? This is a matter certain to be disputed, and which requires, therefore, strong testimony."
When I read these questions I sat down before them in despair. I have always lived among negroes and among white people familiar with their peculiarities and superstitions. For the first time in my life I reflected how small, comparatively, is the number who do understand our Americanised African population. How could I describe to the man who knows him not the cunning, simple, cruel, kindly, untruthful, suspicious yet credulous, superstitious negro, who sees a ghost or devil in every black stump and swaying bush, yet prowls about two-thirds of the night and sleeps three-fourths of the day. The old-fashioned negro, who is destined to have no son like him, who conjures in the name of his African devil on Saturday, and goes to a Christian church, sings, prays, and exhorts, and after "meetin'" invites the minister to a dinner of stolen poultry on Sunday. Finally, I answer these questions briefly, and, like a good Methodist sister, "relate my experience".
"Where are these dances held?"
Anywhere in the woods and fields of North Missouri. I know
