“There is not a negro on the place,” continued Edward, “who does not lie down at night in terror of the Evil Eye, and go to his work in the morning paralyzed by dread of what the day may bring.  Why, there is a perfect panic among them.  They are falling about like a set of ten-pins.  This morning I sent for Wash (best hand on the place) to see about setting out tobacco plants, and behold Wash curled up under a haystack getting ready to die!  It is enough to—­So as soon as you came this morning a plan entered my head for putting a stop to the thing.  It will be necessary to acknowledge that two or three of them are under the spell, and it is better to select those who already fancy themselves so.—­Rosalie!” I appeared at the window.  “Are any of the house-servants ’witched?”

“Mercy is,” said I, “and I presume Mammy is going to be:  I saw her make a curtsey to the black cat this morning.”

“Well, what is your plan?” inquired Dr. Rutherford.

Mr. Smith seated himself on the piazza railing, dangling his feet thereagainst, rounding his shoulders in the most attractive and engaging manner, as you see men do, and proceeded to develop his idea.  I was called off at the moment, and did not return for an hour or two.  As I did so I heard Dr. Rutherford say, “All right!  Blow the horn;” and the overseer down in the yard

    Blew a blast as loud and shrill
    As the wild-boar heard on Temple Hill—­

an event which at this unusual hour of the day produced perfect consternation among the already excited negroes.  They no doubt supposed it the musical exercise set apart for the performance of the angel Gabriel on the day of judgment, and in less than ten minutes all without exception had come pell-mell, helter-skelter, running to “the house.”  The dairymaid left her churn, and the housemaid put down her broom; the ploughs stood still, and when the horses turned their heads to see what was the matter they found they had no driver; she also who was cooking for the hands “fled from the path of duty” (no Casabianca nonsense for her!), leaving the “middling” to sputter into blackness and the corn-pones to share its fate.  Mothers had gathered up their children of both sexes, and grouped them in little terrified companies about the yard and around the piazza-steps.

Edward was now among them, endeavoring to subdue the excitement, and having to some extent succeeded, he made a signal to Dr. Rutherford, who came forward to address the negroes.  Throwing his shoulders back and looking around with dignity, he exclaimed, “I am the great Dr. Rutherford, the witch-doctor of Boston!  I was far away in the North, hundreds of miles from here, and I saw a spot on the sun, and it looked like the Evil Eye!  And I found it was a great black smoke.  Then I knew that witch-fires were burning in the mountains, and witches were dancing in the valleys; and the light of the Eye was red!  I am the great Dr. Rutherford, the witch-doctor of