“When dey got in de barn, de oberseer said to Dinkie, ‘Strip yourself; I don’t want to tear your clothes with my whip. I’m going to tear your black skin.’
“Den, you see, Dinkie tole de oberseer to look in de east corner ob de barn. He looked, an’ he saw hell, wid all de torments, an’ de debble, wid his cloven foot, a-struttin’ about dar, jes as ef he was cock ob de walk. An’ Dinkie tole Cook, dat ef he lay his finger on him, he’d call de debble up to take him away.”
“An’ what did Cook say to dat?” asked Jim.
“Let me ’lone; I didn’t tell you all,” said Nancy. “Den you see de oberseer turn pale in de face, an’ he say to Dinkie, ‘Let me go dis time, an’ I’ll nebber trouble you any more.’”
This concluded Nancy’s story, as related to her by old Ned, and religiously believed by all present. Whatever caused the overseer to change his mind in regard to the flogging of Dinkie, it was certain that he was most thoroughly satisfied to let the old negro off without the threatened punishment; and, although he remained at “Poplar Farm,” as overseer, for five years, he never interfered with the conjurer again.
It is not strange that ignorant people should believe in characters of Dinkie’s stamp; but it is really marvellous that well-educated men and women should give any countenance whatever, to such delusions as were practised by the oracle of “Poplar Farm.”
The following illustration may be taken as a fair sample of the easy manner in which Dinkie carried on his trade.
Miss Martha Lemmy, being on a visit to Mrs. Gaines, took occasion during the day to call upon Dinkie. The conjurer knew the antecedents of his visitor, and was ready to give complete satisfaction in his particular line. When the young lady entered the old man’s cabin, he met her, bade her be welcome, and tell what she had come for. She took a seat on one stool, and he on another. Taking the lady’s right hand in his, Dinkie spit into its palm, rubbed it, looked at it, shut his one eye, opened it, and said: “I sees a young gentman, an’ he’s rich, an’ owns plenty of land an’ a heap o’ niggers; an’, lo! Miss Marfa, he loves you.”
The lady drew a long breath of seeming satisfaction, and asked, “Are you sure that he loves me, Uncle Dinkie?”
“Oh! Miss Marfa, I knows it like a book.”