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Archiver > PADUTCH-LIFE > 1998-07 > 0901733204


From: "Vee L. Housman" <>
Subject: 3-Den of Hexes
Date: Wed, 29 Jul 1998 13:26:44 -0400


IN A DEN OF HEXES

The other night I took a ride that I'll never forget as long as I live.
While on a trip down to Owlville on a little political business, I lost
track of
time. I used to live near there, and I knew the people very well. The
people knew me too, and that's why I moved out. One man in particular I
liked a lot. He was Mike Belsinger, our blacksmith. He shoed my horse
many a time, and every time I came to see him we fell in good with each
other and had some fine times.

Well, I called on Mike again at his old place, and the next thing I
knew he had me in his cellar drinking cider. I promised Polly to come
home sober, but from the cellar we headed to the tavern and by the time
I
arrived there I forgot everything about Polly and politics. The tavern
keeper's wife was an old girlfriend that I had courted before marrying,
we
soon became very “confidential.” The tavern keeper had laughed and said
"Yaw" to everything, and the next thing I knew was that I knew nothing.

The sun set, and dark clouds arose in the east. I saw that a
thunderstorm was coming up, so I left the tavern and crawled up on old
Sammy Sensawetzer's skinny old mare which I had borrowed. I couldn't
balance myself well at first, but two men held me in the saddle, while
another let go with a clapboard on the mare's thigh. Woopsch! she took
off along the stake fence like a billow of smoke.

I had ten miles to go along a dark, lonely road to get home. I flew by
a place where a Jewish peddler was killed. I didn't like the idea at
all, so I
began to whistle a church hymn to keep up my spunk. Next, I went by
the
place where Bill Michelroyer hanged himself. There was a white marker
stone at the fence corner, and I had a notion to turn around to avoid
passing it. My hair shoved my hat up so far that it wouldn't stay on my
head, and I had to carry it in my hand.

Soon it started to thunder and lightning. Yes, it was as dark as the
inside of my pocket. Every time the lightning flashed I thought I
could see
myself surrounded by ghosts. Suddenly, I went around a corner into a
dark
patch of woods. In the middle of this I saw a big fire, and I couldn't
have
been a soberer man as I gathered enough spunk to ride toward it. I
could
soon see people dancing around the fire, although the lightning had
stunned
my eyes so badly that I couldn't see who they were or what was going on.
Finally, I could see that they were all women, and that they were all
naked.
Of course, I rode right up to them just like a married man should.

There was a thorn bush in front of me which prevented them from
seeing me yet. In one corner someone sat and played a pipe. I saw that
he
had horns on his head, cloven feet, and a long forked tail. On a table
in the
middle of the dancers lay a man's head, a noose, a bloody knife, and a
casket. What all this meant I really didn't know, but suddenly one of
the
women turned, and I could see that it was old Sis Schleggel who had been
hanged as a hex. I was witnessing a genuine hex dance, and the devil
was
piping away!

Fear? Well, my hair stood out like chestnut thorns, my teeth
chattered, and my heart boomed so loudly that I was afraid they'd hear
it. I
gripped the mare by its bridle to turn around. In a minute she moved
then,
woopsch! the firelight vanished. Then the thunder really hit, like a
thousand
million throbbing machines! In the darkness I saw them come at me like
bees out of a hive. The old mare had committed herself to doing her
best.
Oh, what had I done? If I'd listened to Polly! The hexes were coming
closer and closer. I held the old mare tightly to the road, because I
knew
that we'd soon be crossing a creek and that hexes could not follow
across
water. Finally, I saw the bridge, and in the next minute I heard the
old
mare's hooves clattering on its planks. I felt so relieved, thank God,
but my
hair was singed all round my head, and I smelled of sulfur for a few
days.

Now, no one need offer advice to me in hex-related matters, cause I have
a
doctor of hexology, and you may print this letter for the benefit of the
cause. You may also print that my terms are "Five Dollars per Hex,
Payment in Advance. Satisfaction Guaranteed or Money Refunded." Of
course, you understand the catch in “refunding.”

* * *

Note: This collection of Boonastiel stories was written by H. A. Harter
in the original Penna-Dutch dialect and were published in the Keystone
Gazette, Bellefonte, PA, between 1894 and 1904. They were translated
and transcribed by Bob James of Alaska and they are being posted to this
PADUTCH-LIFE mailing list with his permission.

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