Dar he had ter set an' talk ter de debil, an' he mus' say, 'I will have nothin' ter do wid 'ligion, an' I wants you ter make me a witch.' Atter day he mus' bile a black cat, a bat an' a bunch of herbs an' drink de soup, den he wuz really a witch.

When you wanted ter witch somebody, she said dat you could take dat stuff, jist a little bit of hit an' put hit under dat puson's doorsteps an' dey'd be sick.

You could go thru' de key hole or down de chimney or through de chinks in a log house, an' you could ride a puson jist lak ridin' a hoss. Dat puson can keep you outen his house by layin' de broom 'fore de do' an' puttin' a pin cushion full of pins side of de bed do', iffen he's a mind to.

Dat puson can kill you too, by drawin' yore pitcher an' shootin' hit in de haid or de heart too.

Dar's a heap o' ways ter tell fortunes dat she done tol' me but I'se done forgot now 'cept coffee groun's an' a little of de others. You can't tell hit wid 'em do', case hit takes knowin' how, hit shore does.

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N.C. District:No. 2
Worker:T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:1,741
Subject:ANDREW BOONE
Story Teller:Andrew Boone
Editor:G. L. Andrews
Date Stamp:"OCT 23 1937"