big black roach. Now, he's coming out of her
head through her ear; whatever you do, don't let him get away cause I
want him. Whatever you do, catch him; he's going ter run, but when he
hits the pillow, grab 'em. I'm go take him and turn it back on the one
who is trying ter send you ter the grave." Sho nuff that bug drop out
her ear and flew; she hollered, and old Uncle Martin ran in the room,
snatched the bed clothes off but they never did find him. Aunt Julianne
never did get better and soon she died. The conjurer said if they had a
caught the bug she would a lived."

The next story is a true story. The facts as told by Mrs. Heard were
also witnessed by her; as it deals with the conjuring of one of her
sons. It is related in her exact words as nearly as possible.

"I got a son named Albert Heard. He is living and well; but chile, there
wuz a time when he wuz almost ter his grave. I wuz living in town then,
and Albert and his wife was living in the country with their two
chillun. Well, Albert got down sick and he would go ter doctors, and go
ter doctors, but they didn't do him any good. I wuz worried ter death
cause I had ter run backards and for'ards and it wuz a strain on me. He
was suffering with a knot on his right side and he couldn't even fasten
his shoes cause it pained him so, and it was so bad he couldn't even
button up his pants. A 'oman teached school out there by the name of
Mrs. Yaney; she's dead now but she lived right here on Randolph Street
years ago. Well, one day when I wuz leaving Albert's house I met her on
the way to her school. 'Good evening, Mrs. Heard', she says. 'How is Mr.
Albert?' I don't hardly know, I says, cause he don't get no better. She
looked at me kinda funny and said, don't you believe he's hurt?' Yes
mam, I said, I sho do. 'Well,' says she, 'I been waiting to say
something to you concerning this but I didn't know how you would take
it. If I tell you somewhere to go will you go, and tell them I sent
you?' Yes mam, I will do anything if Albert can get better. 'All right
then', she says, 'Catch the Federal prison car and get off at Butler
St.' In them days that car came down Forrest Ave. 'When you get to
Butler St.', she says, 'walk up to Clifton St. and go to such and such a
number. Knock on the door and a 'oman by the name of Mrs. Hirshpath will
come ter the door. Fore she let you in she go ask who sent you there;
when you tell 'er she'll let you in. Now lemme tell you she keeps two