More than likely, Moses Gabbie of the Beersheba Church community would have lived out his life in obscurity and lost in history, had it not been for a strange, paranormal event that took place when he was a young man in his twenties. “Mosie,” as he was called, was born in 1798, the youngest son of Robert W. Gabbie, and came into public view about 1820 or 1821 when he went to live with his sister, Elizabeth Burns, and her family.
About the time of his arrival, he began acting very strangely. He fell into a habit of keeping odd hours and complaining he had been bewitched by an old woman. All day long he would lie in bed, in a kind of stupor, and could be aroused only when he was directly spoken to; then he would fall back into his catatonic state. The oddest thing, however, was that every night, between 11:00 and 12:00, he would let out a bloodcurdling scream, leap from his bed, and disappear into the night. Equally as strange, he would return at daylight with his hands and feet full of chestnut burrs.
At first, the family thought Mosie was having nightmares and that they would eventually end as suddenly as they began. They continued however, and in her efforts to help her younger brother, Elizabeth questioned him about his nocturnal disappearances and why he returned so worn and full of burrs. The only thing he could say was that the old crone, Mrs. Biggert, had bewitched him. In great distress and nearly in tears, he told her that the old witch rode him every night to old Violet Weston’s place. There she would hitch him to a chestnut tree in front of the old house, and there he would remain while the witches danced the night away.
Mosie’s sister and her husband, William M. Burns, devised all kinds of ways to keep him at home during the night, but all to no avail. Every night, at the fatal hour, he would give out that awful scream, bolt out of the house, and be gone until daylight. Eventually, they gave up trying to prevent him from his nighttime journey, yielding to the belief that Mosie Gabbie was indeed bewitched.
Winter came and went, then spring and summer, and it made no difference what the weather was — rain, sleet, or snow. Nothing deterred Mosie from his ritual. Without failure, in the dead of the night, he would give out that hideous shout, jump out of bed, and be gone. The family became so accustomed to the ritual that their sleep was hardly disturbed for even a moment. Every morning the children dutifully picked the chestnut burrs from their poor uncle’s hands and feet.
While William and Elizabeth Burns gave up any attempt to constrain Mosie, they continued with their empathy and helped any way they could. Sixty-six-year-old Sam Burns, the father of William, sympathized with Mosie and sometimes talked with others in hopes of finding some relief for the young man. On one occasion, while talking with Colonel William Ferguson about witches, haunts, and things that go bump in the night, he mentioned the plight of his son’s brother-in-law.
Burns was a strong believer in the paranormal, but Ferguson hooted at the very idea of such. When he told him about the young man, Mosie Gabbie, Ferguson laughed him to scorn and wagered Burns that he could keep him at home. Burns insisted that the bewitching was true and suggested that he come to his son’s home and try what he would. A time was set for the following week.
That night, as usual, the family went to bed, leaving the two older men with Mosie. Ferguson lay down on the floor in front of the fireplace, using an overturned chair to prop up his head, and Burns lay across the foot of the bed. The men chatted for some time, but as the evening wore on, their conversation became slow and labored; their eyelids grew heavy. The room was lit only by flickering fire that cast a yellow light over the room. As the flames grew low, the two old men went to sleep before they knew it, and against all their intentions.
For a while the room remained still and quiet, until suddenly the room was filled with Mosie’s horrible scream. Ferguson immediately jumped up from his makeshift bed, but Burns moved somewhat slower. In the dimly lit room, Ferguson saw Burns rising up from the bed and mistook him for Mosie and leaped upon him and straddled him in an effort to hold him in bed. Horror-stricken, Burns thought the witch had taken hold of him, and struggled to tear himself loose from his captor. In the wrestling match, both fell off the bed with Ferguson still straddling of his friend. Burns made a desperate dive under the bed and before long the double mistake was discovered, but Mosie Gabbie had made his escape and was gone for the night.
Some time later, old man Burns went to Lincolnton, North Carolina to see Dr. Brindle, a well-known “witch doctor,” and spoke with him about the pitiful condition of Mosie Gabbie. Much to Burns’ delight, the doctor assured him that he could cure the pathetic wretch and returned with him to York County. Hearing that Brindle had arrived at the Burns’ home to cure Mosie, a crowd assembled in the yard of the home to watch the herb doctor break the hex.
The first thing Brindle did was to give Mosie an emetic. Within a few minutes, the lad was throwing up crooked pins, needles, hairpins, and other similar trash. As hard as it was to believe what had taken place, many who witnessed the event later said they would swear on a Bible that they saw him cast out the clutter. After the emetic had thoroughly done its work, a black cat was apprehended and tied to a chair. In front of the large, curious and anxious crowd, Doctor Brindle took a dead hogweed switch and hit the cat nine times. He then gave the switch to Mosie who was instructed to do the same thing. For exactly nine minutes, the doctor, his patient, and the crowd stood silent. Again, the doctor, and then Mosie, resumed thrashing the cat.
This, they did for the better part of the day, each time using an odd number and a corresponding interval. Doctor Brindle told Mosie that this ritual would cast a spell over the witch and would make her come to the house and ask for a trivial favor. He further told him that he was to refuse her at first, at which time she would be compelled to stay on the scene until she got what she wanted. Once granted the favor, she would leave and the spell would be broken.
They continued chastising the cat until late afternoon, when, sure enough, up walked Mrs. Biggert just as the doctor had said. The old woman had not been in the yard for years, and as the doctor predicted, she proceeded to ask for a favor — a pitcher of buttermilk. When she was refused, she became distressed and wandered aimlessly about the yard wringing her hands.
In a little while, the doctor gave Mrs. Burns a nod to fulfill the old woman’s request, upon which Mrs. Biggert was filled with glee and she merrily went home. From that hour on, Mosie Gabbie was free of the witch and slept in his bed all night, just like other folk in Western York County.
Mosie lived out the rest of his life in relative quietness and obscurity. Mosie now rests peacefully with other members of his family in Beersheba Presbyterian Church cemetery. Sleep well, Mosie, sleep well.
J.L. West – Author
This article and many others found on the pages of Roots and Recall, were written by author J.L. West, for the YC Magazine and have been reprinted on R&R, with full permission – not for distribution or reprint!
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