and blue from the blows the tailor's wife had given it in the churn. The lid was taken off, and there was nothing within but watery stuff, but in the tub were three large lumps of beautiful butter.
I will conclude with a warning against lightly meddling with matters so serious as these. A man named C. was going to mass early on Sunday morning to Kiloanan. As he crossed the strand, he found a woman and her daughter actively engaged in framing witchcrafts by means of pieces of thread of various colours. He tore up the whole apparatus and rebuked them for malice and for breach of the Sunday. They entreated him not to reveal what he had seen, and promised their protection in return for his silence. Nevertheless after mass he told the story. Shortly after, when he was about to sail for the mainland, a black crow settled on the mast of his boat and a storm arose in which he perished. The story is not only true, but of recent occurrence.
THE TAR-BABY STORY.
BY MISS A. WERNER.
I suppose the question of the African origin of the "Uncle Remus" stories has been settled long ago, but it is interesting to see how every fresh contribution to the stock of African (and more especially "Bantu") folklore supplies us with fuller and more detailed evidence on this point. Since it was discussed in the introduction to Mr. Chandler Harris's original edition (how long ago was that?) at least three distinct African versions of the Tar-Baby episode in Brer Rabbit's career have come to light. And the same thing is probably true of the other stories.
The latest of these versions is one obtained by Père Capus, of the White Fathers, among the Basumbwa, one of
