he seed me he stoop’ down an’ tech’ de groun’, jes’ lack he wuz pickin’ up somethin’, an’ den went ’long back in ‘is ya’d.  De ve’y minute I step’ on de spot he tech’, I felt a sha’p pain shoot thoo my right foot, it tu’n’t under me, an’ I fell down in de road.  I pick’ myself up an’ by de time I got home, my foot wuz swoll’ up twice its nachul size.  I cried an’ cried an’ went on, fer I knowed I’d be’n trick’ by dat ole man.  Dat night in my sleep a voice spoke ter me an’ says:  ‘Go an’ git a plug er terbacker.  Steep it in a skillet er wa’m water.  Strip it lengthways, an’ bin’ it ter de bottom er yo’ foot’.’  I never didn’ use terbacker, an’ I laid dere, an’ says ter myse’f, ‘My Lawd, wa’t is dat, wa’t is dat!’ Soon ez my foot got kind er easy, dat voice up an’ speaks ag’in:  ‘Go an’ git a plug er terbacker.  Steep it in a skillet er wa’m water, an’ bin’ it ter de bottom er yo’ foot.’  I scramble’ ter my feet, got de money out er my pocket, woke up de two little boys sleepin’ on de flo’, an’ tol’ ’em ter go ter de sto’ an’ git me a plug er terbacker.  Dey didn’ want ter go, said de sto’ wuz shet, an’ de sto’ keeper gone ter bed.  But I chased ’em fo’th, an’ dey found’ de sto’ keeper an’ fetch’ de terbacker—­dey sho’ did.  I soaked it in de skillet, an’ stripped it ’long by degrees, till I got ter de en’, w’en I boun’ it under my foot an’ roun’ my ankle.  Den I kneel’ down an’ prayed, an’ next mawnin de swellin’ wuz all gone!  Dat voice wus de Spirit er de Lawd talkin’ ter me, it sho’ wuz!  De Lawd have mussy upon us, praise his Holy Name!”

Very obviously Harriet had sprained her ankle while looking at the old man instead of watching the path, and the hot fomentation had reduced the swelling.  She is not the first person to hear spirit voices in his or her own vagrant imaginings.

On another occasion, Aunt Harriet’s finger swelled up “as big as a corn cob.”  She at first supposed the swelling to be due to a felon.  She went to old Uncle Julius Lutterloh, who told her that some one had tricked her.  “My Lawd!” she exclaimed, “how did they fix my finger?” He explained that it was done while in the act of shaking hands.  “Doctor” Julius opened the finger with a sharp knife and showed Harriet two seeds at the bottom of the incision.  He instructed her to put a poultice of red onions on the wound over night, and in the morning the seeds would come out.  She was then to put the two seeds in a skillet, on the right hand side of the fire-place, in a pint of water, and let them simmer nine mornings, and on the ninth morning she was to let all the water simmer out, and when the last drop should have gone, the one that put the seeds in her hand was to go out of this world!  Harriet, however, did not pursue the treatment to the bitter end.  The seeds, once extracted, she put into a small phial, which she corked up tightly and put carefully away in her bureau drawer.  One morning she went to look at them, and one of them was gone.  Shortly afterwards the other disappeared.