In one, "The Discreet Collector," he tells us
that:
Down south there is a curio shop
Unknown to many men;
Thereat do I intend to stop
When I am South again;
The narrow street through which to go--
Aha! I know it well!
And maybe you would like to know--
But no--I will not tell!
But later, when filled with remorse over his extravagance in "blowing
twenty dollars in by nine o'clock A.M.," he reveals the location of his
favorite establishment, saying:
In Royal Street (near Conti) there's a lovely curio shop,
And there, one balmy fateful morn, it was my chance to stop--
So that, at least, is the neighborhood in which he learned that:
The curio collector is so blindly lost in sin
That he doesn't spend his money--he simply blows it in!
In his verses called "Doctor Sam," Field touched on another fascinating
side of Creole negro life: the mysterious beliefs and rites of
voodooism--or, as it is more often spelled, voudouism.
Until a few years ago it used to be possible for a visitor with a "pull"
in New Orleans to see some of the voudou performances and to have "a
work made" for him, but the police have dealt so severely with those who
believe in this barbarous nonsense, that it is practised in these times
only with the utmost secrecy.
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