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VOODOOISM

(Continued from page 56)

die tell me what you like to eat and I'll make you a good 'lil' dinner." But the downhearted Cambre only shook his head.

"I'll make you a gumbo file, like you ain't taste in yo life," she pleaded with him, trying to tempt him.

Finally Cambre assented. He ate the "gumbo file," and a few hours afterward lay dead in his cell, thus cheating the hangman's noose.


OTHER stories told of Marie tend to show that she was cunning, as well as charitable and wicked. One day a young man called at her door, asking alms. He was both ragged and hungry. For some time financial matters had not been going well with Marie, and she had no money. But an idea quickly came to her mind. She had the young man lie down upon a couch, and she placed a sheet over, him. At his head and feet she placed lighted candles. Then, taking a tin cup in her hand, Marie sat on the doorstep, asking the passersby for money with which to defray the funeral expenses. Marie well knew the love of the average negro for the "wake." She soon had the cup full of money and running over. Entering the house, she quickly resurrected the "corpse," and with him divided the collection.

Did Marie Laveau possess supernatural powers? This question is still discussed in New Orleans by both whites and negroes. But the more enlightened people regard Marie as having been only a succesful impostor.


THE ROOM IN THE TOWER

(Continued from page 62)

Perhaps you can imagine my horror as I saw the figure gliding, creeping, toward me, its death-mask grinning as if with pleasure to find at last the room inhabited by a human—as I marked the eyeholes of doom, seeming to glow red in the firelit room, and the bony hand holding on high what I knew to be a cup of poison meant for me!

My eyes fell now on the other ghostly figures; they remained stationary, all turning toward the bed—and, as they raised their arms, I saw that every one held aloft a smoking goblet!

The sweat was now streaming from my every pore, and as the first ghastly figure came on with firm steps nearer to the bed on which I lay, I made absolutely sure that my last hour had struck, even that death. would be preferable to the madness, the frenzy, that I felt running through every vein, to the terror of