{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_21508/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_21508","id":"gutenberg_21508","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21508","summary":null,"tags":["African Americans -- Biography","African Americans -- Folklore","Category: Biographies","Category: History - American","Enslaved persons -- South Carolina -- Biography","Enslaved persons -- South Carolina -- Social conditions","Slavery","Slavery -- South Carolina"],"text":"Produced by Janet Blenkinship and The Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by the\nLibrary of Congress, Manuscript Division)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  SLAVE NARRATIVES\n\n  A Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with\n  Former Slaves\n\n    TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY\n      THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT\n          1936-1938\n        ASSEMBLED BY\n      THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT\n      WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION\n      FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA\n    SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS\n\n   Illustrated with Photographs\n\n  WASHINGTON 1941\n\n  VOLUME XIV SOUTH CAROLINA NARRATIVES PART 2\n\n  Prepared by the Federal Writers' Project of the Works Progress\n  Administration for the State of South Carolina\n\n\n+-----------------------------------------------------------------+\n|Transcriber's Note: To reflect the individual character of this  |\n|document, inconsistencies in punctuation and formatting have been|\n|retained.                                                        |\n|                                                                 |\n|[TN:] denotes a transcriber's note.                              |\n|                                                                 |\n|[HW:] denotes a handwritten note.                                |                                                                  |\n+-----------------------------------------------------------------+\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n  INFORMANTS\n\n  Eddington, Harriet                                                   1\n  Edwards, Mary                                                        2\n  Elliott, Rev. John B.                                                3\n  Elmore, Emanuel                                                     10\n  Emmanuel, Ryer                                              11, 17, 22\n  Eubanks, Pen                                                        27\n  Evans, Lewis                                                        30\n  Evans, Phillip                                                      34\n\n  Fair, Eugenia                                                       38\n  Farrow, Caroline                                                39, 42\n  Feaster, Gus                                                43, 48, 54\n  Ferguson, Ann                                                       72\n  Ford, Aaron                                                         74\n  Foster, Charlotte                                                   80\n  Franklin, John                                                      84\n  Fraser, Emma                                                        87\n  Frost, Adele                                                        88\n\n  Gadsden, Amos                                                       91\n  Gallman, Janie                                                      97\n  Gallman, Lucy                                                      100\n  Gallman, Simon                                                103, 104\n  Gary, Laurence                                                     106\n  Gause, Louisa                                                      107\n  Gibson, Gracie                                                     113\n  Giles, Charlie                                                     115\n  Gillison, Willis                                                   117\n  Gilmore, Brawley                                                   120\n  Gladdeny, Pick                                                     124\n  Gladney, Henry                                                     129\n  Glasgow, Emoline                                                   134\n  Glenn, Silas                                                       136\n  Glover, John                                                       138\n  Godbold, Hector                                                    143\n  Goddard, Daniel                                                    149\n  Godfrey, Ellen                                      153, 159, 161, 164\n  Goodwater, Thomas                                                  166\n  Grant, Charlie                                                     171\n  Grant, Rebecca Jane                                           177, 183\n  Graves, John (Uncle Brack)                                         187\n  Greely, Sim                                                        190\n  Green, Elijah                                                      195\n  Green, W. M.                                                       200\n  Grey, Adeline                                                      203\n  Griffin, Fannie                                                    209\n  Griffin, Madison                                                   212\n  Grigsby, Peggy                                                     215\n  Guntharpe, Violet                                                  216\n\n  Hamilton, John                                                     221\n  Hamlin, (Hamilton) Susan                                 223, 226, 233\n  Harp, Anson                                                        237\n  Harper, Thomas                                                     240\n  Harris, Abe                                                        242\n  Harrison, Eli                                                      244\n  Harvey, Charlie Jeff                                               247\n  Hasty, Eliza                                                       252\n  Haynes, Dolly                                                      258\n  Henderson, Liney                                                   261\n  Henry, Jim                                                         266\n  Herndon, Zack                                                      271\n  Heyward, Lavinia                                                   276\n  Heyward, Lucretia                                                  279\n  Heywood, Mariah                                                    282\n  Hill, Jerry                                                        289\n  Hollins, Jane                                                      291\n  Holmes, Cornelius                                                  294\n  Horry, Ben                                          298, 308, 316, 323\n  Hughes, Margaret                                                   327\n  Hunter, Hester                                           331, 335, 341\n\n\n\n\n  ILLUSTRATIONS             =Facing page=\n\n  Ben Horry 298\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  May 25, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES OF EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in the town of Newberry, and was a servant of Major John P.\nKinard. I married Sam Eddington. I was a Baker, daughter of Mike and\nPatience Baker. My mother was a free woman. She had her freedom before\nthe war started; so I was not a slave. I worked on the farm with my\nmother when she moved back from town. Mama worked in town at hotels;\nthen went back to the country and died. In war time and slavery time, we\ndidn't go to school, 'cause there was no schools for the negroes. After\nthe war was over and everything was settled, negro schools was started.\nWe had a church after the war. I used to go to the white folks' Lutheran\nchurch and set in the gallery. On Saturday afternoons we was off, and\ncould do anything we wanted to do, but some of the negroes had to work\non Saturdays. In the country, my mother would card, spin, and weave, and\nI learned it. I could do lots of it.\"\n\n  =Source:= Harriet Eddington (86), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 20, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  June 16, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in the section of Greenwood County called 'the promised\nland'. My parents were Henry and Julis Watkins. I married Frank Edwards\nwhen I was young. Our master, Marshall Jordon, was not so mean. He had\nlots o' slaves and he give 'em good quarters and plenty to eat. He had\nbig gardens, lots of hogs and cattle and a big farm. My master had two\nchildren.\n\n\"Sometimes dey hunted rabbits, squirrels, possums and doves.\n\n\"De master had two overseers, but we never worked at night. We made our\nown clothes which we done sometimes late in evening.\n\n\"We had no school, and didn't learn to read and write, not 'till freedom\ncome when a school started there by a Yankee named Backinstore. Later,\nour church and Sunday school was in de yard.\n\n\"We had cotton pickings, cornshuckings and big suppers. We didn't have\nto work on Christmas.\n\n\"One of de old-time cures was boiling fever-grass and drinking de tea.\nPokeberry salad was cooked, too. A cure for rheumatism was to carry a\nraw potato in the pocket until it dried up.\n\n\"I had 11 children and 8 grandchildren.\n\n\"I think Abe Lincoln was a great man. Don't know much about Jeff Davis.\nBooker Washington is all right.\n\n\"I joined church in Flordia, the Methodist church. I was 50 years old. I\njoined because they had meetings and my daughter had already joined. I\nthink all ought to join de church.\"\n\n  =Source:= Mary Edwards (79), Greenwood, S.C.\n  Interviewed by: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/10/37)\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  Stiles M. Scruggs\n  Columbia, S.C.\n\n  A SON OF SLAVES CLIMBS UP.\n\n\nThe Rev. John B. Elliott, A.B.A. A.M., D.D., 1315 Liberty Hill Avenue,\nColumbia, S.C., is the son of slaves. He was born at Mount Olive, N.C.,\nin 1869, and missed being a slave by only four years. His college\ndegrees were won at Shaw University, Raleigh, N.C., and the degree of\nDoctor of Divinity was conferred on him by Allen University of Columbia,\nS.C.\n\nSitting on the parsonage piazza recently, the Rector of St. Anna's\nEpiscopal Church talked about his struggle for education, and his labors\nup from slavery.\n\n\"I was born at Mount Olive, N.C., the son of Soloman Elliott and Alice\n(Roberts) Elliott. They were slaves when they married, and I escaped\nbondage by only four years, since slaves were not freed in the South,\nuntil 1865.\n\n\"My father was owned by Robert W. Williams, of Mount Olive, and he was\nthe most highly prized Negro in the vicinity. He was a natural carpenter\nand builder. Often he would go to the woods and pick out trees for the\njob in hand. Some of the houses he built there are standing today.\nMother was equally trained and well equipped to make a home and keep it\nneat and clean. When they were free in 1865, half the community was\neager to employ them and pay them well for their services. And, when I\ncame along, they were living in their own house and prospering.\n\n\"I chose a religious career when quite a boy, and, when I was ready for\ncollege, I was much pleased. I finished at Shaw University at Raleigh,\ntook a year's study at Columbia University in New York and then finished\na religious course at the Bishop Payne Divinity School at Petersburg,\nVirginia, where most of the colored clergymen of the Episcopal Church\nare finished. After I felt that I was fairly well fitted to begin my\nclerical work, I chose South Carolina as my field.\n\n\"My first assignment was at Waccamaw Neck, a little below Georgetown,\nS.C., and a big industrial center. There the Negro population is keen\nfor wine and whiskey. One of the men whom I was interested in, was\npretty tipsy when I called, and, as I sat and talked with him, he said:\n'You're drunk, too.' This surprised me, and I asked him why he thought\nso. 'Well, you got your vest and collar on backwards, so you must be\ndrunk!'\n\n\"Since, I have had pastorates at Aiken, Peak, Rock Hill, and Walterboro.\nFrom Walterboro I came to Columbia as pastor of St. Anna's Episcopal\nChurch and the missions of Ann's at New Brookland and St. Thomas at\nEastover. I presume I have done pretty well in this field, since the Rt.\nRev. Bishop Kirkman G. Finlay, D.D., appointed me arch-deacon for Negro\nwork in upper South Carolina.\n\n\"As I was coming away from the Bishop's office, I was accompanied by\nanother colored rector, who had very short legs. I am six feet, four\ninches in height, and he looked up at me as we walked along and asked\nquizzically: 'How long should a man's legs be?' I smiled and told him I\nthought, perhaps, every man should have legs long enough to reach to the\nground. Yes, of course, we laughed at each other, but my argument won,\nbecause Bishop Finlay is about six feet, three inches, and I told my\nshort friend: 'When Bishop Finlay and I talk, we are able to look each\nother in the eye on the level.'\n\n\"I married Susan McMahan, a colored school teacher, and the Lord has\nblessed us with a son, John B. Jr., a fine wood-worker, like his\ngrandfather was, and two sweet daughters. Alice, the older one, is a\nteacher in the public schools of Columbia and Annie is a student. Our\nhome life has always been pleasant and unusually sunny.\n\n\"I had one very humorous experience three years ago when I was invited\nto deliver an address near Mount Olive, N.C., to a convention of young\npeople. Arriving about 10 o'clock that day, I was met by a citizen who\ntold me he was assigned to introduce me that evening. As we rode along,\nI cautioned him not to boost me too highly. He said little.\n\n\"When the big, and, I may say, expectant audience was seated that night,\nhe arose and seemed much embarrassed, ultimately saying: 'Ladies and\ngentlemen, I have an unpleasant duty to perform this evening.' Then,\npointing at me, he went on: 'I don't know this man, much. Fact is, I\nonly know two things about him. One is, he has never been in jail; and\nthe other is, I never could figure why.'\n\n\"No, I am not related to the late Robert Bruce Elliott by ties of\nconsanguinity. He was successively twice a member of Congress from South\nCarolina, and a member and Speaker of the South Carolina House of\nRepresentatives in 1876. Perhaps these honors came to him because he had\na good education before he met the opportunity for service.\n\n\"When I think of the '60's-'70's period, I am surprised that recent\nslaves, suddenly placed in administrative positions of honor and trust,\ndid as well as they did.\n\n\"In the seventy-two years since slavery, I have noted much improvement\nalong the road, and I am sure that our nation has far less discord now,\nthan it had when I was a small lad. And, when one can note progress in\nour march toward the light, I guess that ought to be sufficient for my\noptimism.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  Folklore\n  Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n  Dec. 23, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  EX-SLAVE STORIES\n\n  EMANUEL ELMORE.\n\n\n\"I was born on June 20th and I remember when the war broke out, for I\nwas about five years old. We lived in Spartanburg County not far from\nold Cherokee ford. My father was Emanuel Elmore, and he lived to be\nabout 90 years old.\n\n\"My marster was called by everybody, Col. Elmore, and that is all that I\ncan remember about his name. When he went to the war I wanted to go with\nhim, but I was too little. He joined the Spartanburg Sharp Shooters.\nThey had a drill ground near the Falls. My pa took me to see them drill,\nand they were calling him Col. Elmore then. When I got home I tried to\ndo like him and everybody laughed at me. That is about all that I\nremember about the war. In those days, children did not know things like\nthay do now, and grown folks did not know as much either.\n\n\"I used to go and watch my father work. He was a moulder in the Cherokee\nIron Works, way back there when everything was done by hand. He moulded\neverything from knives and forks to skillets and wash pots. If you could\nhave seen pa's hammer, you would have seen something worth looking at.\nIt was so big that it jarred the whole earth when it struck a lick. Of\ncourse it was a forge hammer, driven by water power. They called the\nhammer 'Big Henry'. The butt end was as big as an ordinary telephone\npole.\n\n\"The water wheel had fifteen or twenty spokes in it, but when it was\nrunning it looked like it was solid. I used to like to sit and watch\nthat old wheel. The water ran over it and the more water came over, the\nmore power the wheel gave out.\n\n\"At the Iron Works they made everything by hand that was used in a\nhardware store, like nails, horse shoes and rims for all kinds of\nwheels, like wagon and buggy wheels. There were moulds for everything no\nmatter how large or small the thing to be made was. Pa could almost pick\nup the right mould in the dark, he was so used to doing it. The patterns\nfor the pots and kettles of different sizes were all in rows, each row\nbeing a different size. In my mind I can still see them.\n\n\"Hot molten iron from the vats was dipped with spoons which were handled\nby two men. Both spoons had long handles, with a man at each handle. The\nspoons would hold from four to five gallons of hot iron that poured just\nlike water does. As quick as the men poured the hot iron in the mould,\nanother man came along behind them and closed the mould. The large\nmoulds had doors and the small moulds had lids. They had small pans and\nsmall spoons for little things, like nails, knives and forks, When the\nmould had set until cold, the piece was prized out.\n\n\"Pa had a turn for making covered skillets and fire dogs. He made them\nso pretty that white ladies would come and give an order for a 'pair of\ndogs', and tell him how they wanted them to look. He would take his\nhammer and beat them to look just that way.\n\n\"Rollers pressed out the hot iron for machines and for special lengths\nand things that had to be flat. Railroad ties were pressed out in these\nrollers. Once the man that handled the hot iron to be pressed through\nthese rollers got fastened in them himself. He was a big man. The blood\nflew out of him as his bones were crushed, and he was rolled into a mass\nabout the thickness and width of my hand. Each roller weighed about\n2,000 pounds.\n\n\"The man who got killed was named Alex Golightly. He taught the boys my\nage how to swim, fish and hunt. His death was the worst thing that had\nhappened in the community. The man who worked at the foundry, made Alex\na coffin. It had to be made long and thin because he was mashed up so\nbad. In those days coffins were nothing but boxes anyway, but Alex's\ncoffin was the most terrible thing that I have ever seen. I reckon if\nthey had had pretty coffins then like they do now, folks would have\nbought them to sleep in.\n\n\"Hundreds went to Alex's funeral, white and black, to see that long\nnarrow coffin and the grave which was dug to fit it. On the way to the\ngraveyard, negroes sang songs, for Alex was a good man. They carried him\nto the Cherokee graveyard on the old Smith Ford Road, and there they\nburied him. My father helped to build the coffin and he helped haul him\nto the graveyard. Pa worked at the Iron Foundry until he was very old.\nHe worked there before I was ever born.\n\n\"My father was sold four times during slavery. When he was brought to\nVirginia he was put on the block and auctioned off for $4,000. He said\nthat the last time he was sold he only brought $1,500. He was born in\nAlabama. When he was bought he was carried from Alabama to Virginia. It\nwas Col. Elmore who took him. He wanted to go to Alabama again, so Col.\nElmore let a speculator take him back and sell him. He stayed there for\nseveral years and got homesick for South Carolina. He couldn't get his\nmarster to sell him back here, so he just refugeed back to Col. Elmore's\nplantation. Col. Elmore took him back and wouldn't let anybody have him.\n\n\"Pa married twice, about the same time. He married Dorcas Cooper, who\nbelonged to the Coopers at Staunton Military Academy. I was the first\nchild born in Camden. She had sixteen children. I was brought to\nSpartanburg County when I was little. Both ma and pa were sold together\nin Alabama. The first time pa came to South Carolina he married a girl\ncalled Jenny. She never had any children. When he went to Alabama,\nDorcas went with him, but Jenny stayed with Col. Elmore. Of course, pa\njust jumped the broom for both of them.\n\n\"When pa left Alabama to refugee back, he had to leave Dorcas. They did\nnot love their marster anyway. He put Dorcas up on the block with a red\nhandkerchief around her head and gave her a red apple to eat. She was\nsold to a man whose name I have forgotten. When they herded them she got\naway and was months making her way back to South Carolina. Those\nAfricans sure were strong. She said that she stayed in the woods at\nnight. Negroes along the way would give her bread and she would kill\nrabbits and squirrels and cook and eat in the woods. She would get drunk\nand beat any one that tried to stop her from coming back. When she did\nget back to Col. Elmore's place, she was lanky, ragged and poor, but\nCol. Elmore was glad to see her and told her he was not going to let\nanybody take her off. Jenny had cared so well for her children while she\nwas off, that she liked her. They lived in the same house with pa till\nmy mother died.\n\n\"Col. Elmore said that negroes who were from Virginia and had African\nblood could stand anything. He was kind to ma. He fed her extra and she\nsoon got fat again. She worked hard for Col. Elmore, and she and pa sure\ndid love him. One time a lot of the negroes in the quarter got drunk and\nma got to fighting all of them. When she got sobered up she was afraid\nthat Col Elmore was going to send her back to Alabama; so she went and\nhid in the woods. Pa took food to her. In about a month Col. Elmore\nasked where she was, and pa just looked sheepish and grinned. Col.\nElmore told pa to go and bring her back, for he said he was tired of\nhaving his rations carried to the woods; so ma came home. She had stayed\noff three months. She never felt well anymore, and she died in about\nthree more months. Pa and Jenny kept us till we got big and went off to\nourselves.\n\n\"Jenny was born and raised in South Carolina, and she was good to\neverybody and never fought and went on like ma did. Ma liked her and\nwould not let anybody say anything against her. She was good to pa till\nhe died, a real old man. Jenny never had any children. She was not old\nwhen she died, but just a settled woman. We felt worse over her death\nthan we did over ma's, because she was so good to us and had cared for\nus while ma and pa were in Alabama; then she was good to us after Dorcas\ndied and when she hid in the woods.\n\n\"It seems that folks are too tender now. They can't stand much. My ma\ncould stand more than I can. My children can't stand what I can right\nnow.\"\n\n  =Source:= Emanuel Elmore (77). Sycamore St., Gaffney, S.C.\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 11/16/37\n\n\n\n\n  Code No.\n  Project, 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, December 16, 1937\n\n  MOM RYER EMMANUEL\n  EX-SLAVE, AGE 78\n\n\n\"Oh, my Lord, child, I ain' know nothin bout slavery time no more den we\nwas just little kids livin dere on de white people plantation. I was\njust a little yearlin child den, I say. Been bout six years old in\nslavery time. Well, I'll say dat I bout 80 some odds, but I can' never\nseem to get dem odds together. I was a big little girl stayin in old\nMassa yard in dem days, but I wasn' big enough to do nothin in de house\nno time. My old Massa been Anthony Ross en he had set my age down in de\nBible, but my old Missus, she dead en I know dem chillun wouldn' never\nknow whe' to say dat Bible at dese days. Old Miss, she been name Matt\nRoss. I wish somebody could call up how long de slaves been freed cause\nden dey could call up my age fast as I could bat my eyes. Say, when de\nemancipation was, I been six years old, so my mammy tell me. Don' know\nwhat to say dat is, but I reckon it been since freedom.\"\n\n\"I been born en bred right over yonder to dat big patch of oak trees\nbout dat house what you see after you pass de white people church cross\nde creek dere. De old man Anthony Ross, he been have a good mind to his\ncolored people all de time. Yes, mam, my white folks was proud of dey\nniggers. Um, yes'um, when dey used to have company to de big house, Miss\nRoss would bring dem to de door to show dem us chillun. En my blessed,\nde yard would be black wid us chillun all string up dere next de door\nstep lookin up in dey eyes. Old Missus would say, 'Ain' I got a pretty\ncrop of little niggers comin on?' De lady, she look so please like. Den\nMiss Ross say, 'Do my little niggers want some bread to gnaw on?' En us\nchillun say, 'Yes'um, yes'um, we do.' Den she would go in de pantry en\nsee could she find some cook bread to hand us. She had a heap of fine\nlittle niggers, too, cause de yard would be black wid all different\nsizes. Won' none of dem big enough to do nothin. No, mam, dey had to be\nover 16 year old fore old Massa would allow dem to work cause he never\nwant to see his niggers noways stunt up while dey was havin de growin\npains. Den when dey was first grow up, dey would give some of dem a\nhouse job en would send de others in de field to mind de cows en de\nsheep en bring dem up. Wouldn' make dem do no heavy work right to start\nwid. But dem what was older, dey had to work in de field. I reckon dey\nwould be workin just bout like dey is now from sunrise in de mornin till\nsunset in de evenin.\"\n\n\"Yes, honey, I been come here under a blessin cause my white folks never\ndidn' let dey colored people suffer no time. Always when a woman would\nget in de house, old Massa would let her leave off work en stay dere to\nde house a month till she get mended in de body way. Den she would have\nto carry de child to de big house en get back in de field to work. Oh,\ndey had a old woman in de yard to de house to stay dere en mind all de\nplantation chillun till night come, while dey parents was workin. Dey\nwould let de chillun go home wid dey mammy to spend de night en den she\nwould have to march dem right back to de yard de next mornin. We didn'\ndo nothin, but play bout de yard dere en eat what de woman feed us.\nYes'um, dey would carry us dere when de women would be gwine to work. Be\ndere fore sunrise. Would give us three meals a day cause de old woman\nalways give us supper fore us mammy come out de field dat evenin. Dem\nbigger ones, dey would give dem clabber en boil peas en collards\nsometimes. Would give de little babies boil pea soup en gruel en suck\nbottle. Yes, mam, de old woman had to mind all de yearlin chillun en de\nbabies, too. Dat all her business was. I recollects her name, it been\nLettie. Would string us little wooden bowls on de floor in a long row en\nus would get down dere en drink just like us was pigs. Oh, she would\ngive us a iron spoon to taste wid, but us wouldn' never want it. Oh, my\nLord, I remember just as good, when we would see dem bowls of hot\nration, dis one en dat one would holler, 'dat mine, dat mine.' Us would\njust squat dere en blow en blow cause we wouldn' have no mind to drink\nit while it was hot. Den we would want it to last a long time, too. My\nhappy, I can see myself settin dere now coolin dem vitals (victuals).\"\n\n\"Like I speak to you, my white folks was blessed wid a heap of black\nchillun, but den dere been a odd one in de crowd what wasn' noways like\ndem others. All de other chillun was black skin wid dis here kinky hair\nen she was yellow skin wid right straight hair. My Lord, old Missus been\nmighty proud of her black chillun, but she sho been touches bout dat\nyellow one. I remember, all us chillun was playin round bout de step one\nday whe' Miss Ross was settin en she ax dat yellow child, say, 'Who your\npapa?' De child never know no better en she tell her right out exactly\nde one her mammy had tell her was her papa. Lord, Miss Ross, she say,\n'Well, get off my step. Get off en stay off dere cause you don' noways\nbelong to me.' De poor child, she cry en she cry so hard till her mammy\nnever know what to do. She take en grease her en black her all over wid\nsmut, but she couldn' never trouble dat straight hair off her noway. Dat\nhow-come dere so much different classes today, I say. Yes, mam, dat whe'\ndat old stain come from.\"\n\n\"My mammy, she was de housewoman to de big house en she say dat she\nwould always try to mind her business en she never didn' get no whippin\nmuch. Yes, mam, dey was mighty good to my mother, but dem other what\nnever do right, dey would carry dem to de cow pen en make dem strip off\ndey frock bodies clean to de waist. Den dey would tie dem down to a log\nen paddle dem wid a board. When dey would whip de men, de boards would\noften times have nails in dem. Hear talk dey would wash dem wid dey\nblood. Dat first hide dey had, white folks would whip it off dem en den\nturn round en grease dem wid tallow en make dem work right on. Always\nwould inflict de punishment at sunrise in de mornin fore dey would go to\nwork. Den de women, dey would force dem to drop dey body frock cross de\nshoulders so dey could get to de naked skin en would have a strap to\nwhip dem wid. Wouldn' never use no board on de women. Oh, dey would have\nde lot scatter bout full of dem what was to get whip on a mornin.\"\n\n\"You see, de colored people couldn' never go nowhe' off de place widout\ndey would get a walkin ticket from dey Massa. Yes, mam, white folks\nwould have dese pataroller walkin round all bout de country to catch dem\ncolored people dat never had no walkin paper to show dem. En if dey\nwould catch any of dem widout dat paper, dey back would sho catch\nscissors de next mornin.\"\n\n\"Well, I don' know as de white folks would be meanin to kill any of dey\nniggers, but I hear talk dey would whip dem till dey would die some of\nde time en would bury dem in de night. Couldn' bury dem in de day cause\ndey wouldn' have time. When dey would be gwine to bury dem, I used to\nsee de lights many a time en hear de people gwine along singin out\nyonder in dem woods just like dey was buryin buzzards. Us would set down\nen watch dem gwine along many a night wid dese great big torches of\nfire. Oh, dey would have fat lightwood torches. Dese here big hand\nsplinters. Had to carry dem along to see how to walk en drive de wagon\nto haul de body. Yes, child, I been here long enough to see all dat in\nslavery time. All bout in dese woods, you can find plenty of dem slavery\ngraves dis day en time. I can tell bout whe' dere one now. Yes, mam,\ndere one right over yonder to de brow of de hill gwine next to Mr.\nClaussens. Can tell dem by de head boards dere. Den some of de time, dey\nwould just drop dem anywhe' in a hole along side de woods somewhe' cause\nde people dig up a skull right out dere in de woods one day en it had\nslavery mark on it, dey say. Right over dere cross de creek in dem big\ncedars, dere another slavery graveyard. People gwine by dere could often\nhear talk en couldn' never see nothin, so dey tell me. Hear, um--um--um,\nen would hear babies cryin all bout dere, too. No'um, can' hear dem much\nnow cause dey bout to be wearin out. I tell you, I is scared every time\nI go along dere. Some of dem die wicked, I say.\"\n\n\n  =Source:= Ryer Emmanuel, colored, age 78, Claussens, S.C.\n          Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Dec., 1937.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, December 26, 1937\n\n  MOM RYER EMMANUEL\n  EX-SLAVE, AGE 78\n\n\n\"Well, how you feelin dis mornin, honey? I had tell Miss Sue dat I would\nbe keepin a eye out dat door dere en when I is see a car stop up to de\nhouse, I would try en make it up dere dis mornin. Yes, mam, Miss Sue\ntell me you was comin today en I promise her I would be up dere, but I\nain' been feelin so much to speak bout dis mornin. Den you see, I know I\ngwine be obliged to run down to de woods en fetch me up some wood en\nkindlin fore night fall. I been 'spect to make Koota break me up some\nsplinters, but he ain' no count worth nothin. Yes, mam, he my grandson.\nCose I tries to knock bout somewhe' en let me get out in de cotton\npatch, I can put in a good sturdy job any day. You see, my eyes does be\npretty good cause dey got on dey second glove, I say. Can see good to my\nage. But oh, my Lord, right in my chest here, it does thump sometimes\njust like a drum beatin in dere en I can' never stand to hurry en walk\nhard no more dese days.\"\n\n\"No, mam, it don' bother me noways to leave dat door open. I keeps it\ndat way bout all de time, so as I can look out en see what gwine along\nde road dere. What de matter, honey, you don' loves to smell dem chitlin\nI got boilin dere on de stove? I hear some people say dey can' stand no\nchitlin scent nowhe' bout dem, but I loves dem so much dat it does make\nmy mouth run water to think bout how me en Koota gwine enjoy dem dis\nevenin. No, mam, us don' never eat us heavy meal till dat sun start\ngwine down behind dem trees cross de creek yonder. You see, I does keep\nsome 'tatoes roastin dere in de coals on de hearth en if us belly sets\nup a growlin twixt meals, us just rakes a 'tatoe out de ashes en breaks\nit open en makes out on dat. My God, child, I think bout how I been\nbless dat I ain' never been noways scornful bout eatin chitlins. Yes,\nmam, when I helps up dere to de house wid hog killin, Mr. Moses, he does\nalways say for me to carry de chitlin home to make me en Koota a nice\npot of stew.\"\n\n\"I tellin you, when us been chillun comin up, people sho never live like\ndey do dis day en time. Oh, I can remember just as good when I used to\ngo dat Hopewell Presbyterian Church cross de creek dere. Yes, mam, dat\nbeen de white people slavery church en dat dey slavery graveyard what\nsettin right dere in front de church, too. Dat sho a old, old slavery\ntime church, I say. Massa Anthony Ross would make us go dere to preachin\nevery Sunday en dey was mighty strict bout us gwine to prayer service,\ntoo. Us would go up dem steps in dat little room, what been open out on\nde front piazza to de church, en set up in de gallery overhead en de\nwhite folks let down dere below us. Yes, mam, dat whe' de colored people\nwent to church in dem days en some of dem go dere till dey die cause dat\nwhe' dey been join de church. Some of dem does go dere often times dese\ndays, too, when de white people axes dem to sing to dey church. I\nremember, when I been baptize dere, I was just a little small child. Oh,\nde white preacher baptized all us little niggers dere. Old Massa, he\ntell all his hands to carry dey chillun up dere en get dem baptized. Oh,\nmy happy, dey been fix us up dat day. Put on us clean homespuns en long\ndrawers, dat been hang down round us ankles like boots, en all us get a\nnew bonnet dat day. I recollects, dey would march us right up to de\nfront of de church en de preacher would come down to whe' we was standin\nwid a basin of water in one hand en a towel in de other hand. He would\ntake one of us chillun en lay he wet hand on dey head en say, 'I baptize\ndee in de name of, etc.' Den dat one would have to get back en another\none would step up for dey turn. De preacher, he would have a big towel\nto wipe his hands wid en every child's mammy would be standin right\nbehind hind dem wid a rag to wipe de (drain) dren water out dey eyes.\"\n\n\"Oh, my Lord, when de Yankees come through dere, I hear dem say it was\nde Republicans. Mr. Ross had done say dat he hear talk dat dey was comin\nthrough en he tell his niggers to hurry en hide all de plantation\nrations. Yes, mam, dey dig cellars under de colored people houses en\nbury what meat en barrels of flour dey could en dat what dey couldn' get\nunder dere, dey hide it up in de loft. Mr. Ross say, 'Won' none of dem\ndamn Yankees get no chance to stick dey rotten tooth in my rations.' We\nsay, 'Ma, you got all dese rations here en we hungry.' She say, 'No, dem\nration belong to boss en you chillun better never bother dem neither.'\nDen when Mr. Ross had see to it dat dey had fix everything safe, he take\nto de swamp. Dat what my mammy say cause he know dey wasn' gwine bother\nde womens. Lord, when dem Yankees ride up to de big house, Miss Ross\nbeen scared to open her mouth cause de man was in de swamp. No, child,\ndey didn' bother nothin much, but some of de rations dey get hold of.\nOften times, dey would come through en kill chickens en butcher a cow up\nen cook it right dere. Would eat all dey wanted en den when dey would go\nto leave, dey been call all de little plantation niggers to come dere en\nwould give dem what was left. Oh, Lord, us was glad to get dem vitals,\ntoo. Yes, mam, all dey had left, dey would give it to de poor colored\npeople. Us been so glad, us say dat us wish dey would come back again.\nDen after dey had left us plantation, dey would go some other place\nwhere dere was another crowd of little niggers en would left dem a pile\nof stuff, too. Old Massa, he been stay in de swamp till he hear dem\nYankees been leave dere en den he come home en would keep sendin to de\ncolored people houses to get a little bit of his rations to a time.\nUncle Solomon en Sipp en Leve, dey been eat much of boss' rations dey\nwanted cause dey been know de Yankees was comin back through to free\ndem. But my mammy, she was a widow woman en old man Anthony Ross never\nleft nothin to her house.\"\n\n\"I tell you, honey, some of de colored people sho been speak praise to\ndem Yankees. I don' know how-come, but dey never know no better, I say.\nDey know en dey never know. One old man been ridin one of dese stick\nhorses en he been so glad, he say, 'Thank God! Thank God!\"\n\n  =Source:= Ryer Emmanuel colored, age 78, Claussens, S.C.\n                 Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Marion, S.C.\n                 December, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n  Code No.\n  Project, 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, January 7, 1938\n\n  MOM RYER EMMANUEL\n  EX-SLAVE, 78 YEARS\n\n\n\"Good evenin, child. How you is? How Miss Sue gettin along over dere to\nMarion? I hope she satisfied, but dere ain' nowhe' can come up to restin\nin your own home, I say. No, Lord, people own home don' never stop to\ncuss dem no time. Dere Koota's mamma all de time does say, 'Ma, ain' no\nneed in you en Booker stayin over dere by yourself. Come en live wid\nus.' I say, 'No, child. Father may have, sister may have, brother may\nhave, en chillun may have, but blessed be he dat have he own.' I tell\nall my chillun I rather stay here under my own roof cause when I takes a\nnotion, I can go in en bake me a little hoecake en draw me a pot of\ncoffee en set down to eat it in satisfaction.\"\n\n\"After you was gone de other day, I thought bout right smart to speak to\nyou, but when I gets tired, I just get all fray up somehow. My sister,\nshe come to see me Sunday en I had dem all laughin bout what I say dat I\nhad tell you. My sister, she make out like she don' know nothin bout dem\nolden times. Her husband, he done gone en die en she out lookin round\nfor another one. Reckon dat what ails her. I tell her, I ain' see none\nnowhe' dat I would be pleased to take in. But I don' care what she say,\nus sho been here in slavery time cause my mother didn' have but one free\nborn child en dat one come here a corpse.\"\n\n\"I remember, Ma used to tell we chillun bout how dey couldn' never do\nnothin in slavery time, but what de white folks say dey could do. I say,\n'If I been big enough in dem days, I would sho a let out a fight for\nyou.' You see, I was a little small child den en I never know no better\nden to speak dat way.\"\n\n\"My mother, she was de house woman to de big house in slavery time, but\nshe never didn' get no money for what she been do. No, mam, white folks\nnever didn' pay de poor colored people no money in dat day en time. See,\nold boss would give dem everything dey had en provide a plenty somethin\nto eat for dem all de time. Yes'um, all de niggers used to wear dem old\nDutch shoes wid de brass in de toes en de women, dey never didn' have\nnothin 'cept dem old coarse shoes widout no linin. Couldn' never wear\ndem out. Yes'um, dey always give us a changin of homespuns, so as to\nstrip on wash day en put on a fresh one.\"\n\n\"Den I recollects we chillun used to ax us mammy whe' us come from en\nshe say, 'I got you out de hollow log.' Well, just like I tell you,\nslavery chillun had dey daddy somewhe' on de plantation. Cose dey had a\ndaddy, but dey didn' have no daddy stayin in de house wid dem. White\nfolks would make you take dat man whe' if you want him or no. Us chillun\nnever didn' know who us daddy been till us mammy point him out cause all\nus went in Massa Anthony Ross' name. Yes, mam, all us had a different\ndaddy, so my mammy say.\"\n\n\"Who dat come here wid you? Lord, dat don' look like no wife. How long\nyou is been married, honey? You ain' say so. Look like you is just\nbloomin, I say.\"\n\n\"Oh, I tell you, I see a heap of things in dem days, but I ain' got my\nstudyin cap on right now en I can' call up nothin right sharp. Us never\nknow nothin bout us was gwine get free in dat day en time. Us was same\nas brutes en cows back dere cause us been force to go by what white man\nsay all de time. Oh, dey would beat de colored people so worser till dey\nwould run away en stay in de swamp to save dey hide. But Lord a mercy,\nit never do no good to run cause time dey been find you was gone, dey\nbeen set de nigger dog on you. Yes, mam, dey had some of dese high dogs\ndat dey call hounds en dey could sho find you out, too. Oh, dem hounds\nwould sho get you. Don' care whe' you was hidin, dem dogs would smell\nyou. If you been climb up a tree, de dog would trail you right to de\nfoot of dat tree en just stand up en howl at you. Dey would stand right\ndere en hold you up de tree till some of de white folks been get dere en\ntell you to come down out de tree. Den if you never do like dey say, dey\nwould chop de tree down en let you fall right in de dog's mouth. Would\nlet de dog bite you en taste your blood, so dey could find de one dey\nwas lookin for better de next time. Yes, mam, white people would let de\ndog gnaw you up en den dey would grease you en carry you home to de\nhorse lot whe' dey would have a lash en a paddle to whip you wid. Oh,\ndey would have a swarm of black people up to de lot at sunrise on a\nmornin to get whip. Would make dem drop dey body frock en would band dem\ndown to a log en would put de licks to dem. Ma was whip twice en she say\ndat she stay to her place after dat. I hear talk dey give some of dem 50\nlashes to a whippin. Dat how it was in slavery time. Poor colored people\ncouldn' never go bout en talk wid dey neighbors no time widout dey Massa\nsay so. I say, 'Ma, if dey been try to beat me, I would a jump up en\nbite dem.' She say, 'You would get double portion den.' Just on account\nof dat, ain' many of dem slavery people knockin bout here now neither, I\ntell you. Dat first hide dey had, white folks just took it off dem. I\nwould a rather been dead, I say. I remember, we chillun used to set down\nen ax Ma all bout dis en dat. Say, 'Ma, yunnah couldn' do nothin?' She\nsay, 'No, white people had us in slavery time.'\n\n\"My God a mercy, I think now de best time to live in cause I ain' gettin\nno beatin dese days. If I had been big enough to get whip in slavery\ntime, I know I would been dead cause I would been obliged to fight dem\nback en dey would kill folks for dat in dem days. If anybody hurt me,\ndey got to hurt back again, I say. Cose us had us task to do in dem\ndays, but us never didn' have to bother bout huntin no rations en\nclothes no time den like de people be burdened wid dese days. I tell\nyou, what you get in dese times, you got to paw for it en paw hard, but\nain' nobody else business whe' you do it or no.\"\n\n\"Oh, de young people, dey ain' nothin dis day en time. Ain' worth a\nshuck no time. De old ones can beat dem out a hollow anywhe'. Ain' no\nchillun raise in dese days, I say. After freedom come here, I know I\nbeen hired out to white folks bout all de time en, honey, I sho been put\nthrough de crack. Lord, I had a rough time. Didn' never feel no rest.\nDat how-come I ain' get all my growth, I say.\"\n\n  =Source:= Mom Ryer Emmanuel, colored, 78 years, Claussens, S.C.\n          Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Marion, S.C.\n          [HW: See ES XVII, MS. #14.]\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg--Dist. 4\n  May 18, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"White folks. I sho nuff did ride wid de 'Red Shirts' fer Marse Hampton.\nDar was two other darkies what rid wid us. Dey is bof daed now. One was\nJack Jones, and de t'othern I does not recollect his name. Him and Jack\nis both daed. Dat leave me de onliest living one what rid in de company.\n\n\"I rid in de company wid Marse Jimmie Young and he was de Cap'un. He\nlive out yonder at Sardis Church. Ev'ybody know Marse Jimmie. He ain't\nquite as aged yet as I bees. Mr. J.T. Sexton, he rid from up around\nCross Keys, he got de 'hole in de wall' and I calls on him yit, and us\ntalks over de olden days. Miss Bobo's husband, he rid in Marse Jimmie's\ncompany. (Mr. Preston B. Bobo) Our company camped at de ole Brick church\nout whar de mansion set now. It has allus been called de Lower\nFairforest Baptist Church, whar de white folks still goes, 'cept de done\nmove de church down on de new road, further from de mansion and de ole\ngraveyard. I lows dat you knows I is speaking o' de new mansion--Mr.\nEmslie Nicholson's house on de forest at de Shoals. I is got memory, but\nI ain't got no larning; dat I is proud of, kaise I is seed folks wid\nlarning dat never knowed nothing worth speaking about. All de way 'fru',\nI is done tuck and stuck to my white folks--de Democratic white folks,\ndat I is.\n\n\"Sho was a pretty sight to see 'bout a hun'ded mens up on fine horses\nwid red shirts on. I still sees dem in my mind clear as day. Our red\nshirts fastened wid a strong band 'round de waist. Dar wasn't nar'y\nspeck o' white to be seed no whars on 'em. Dey was raal heavy and\nstrong. Fact, dey was made from red flannel, and I means it was sho\n'nough flannel, too. I had done kept one o' mine here till times got\nhard and den I tuck and tore it up fer me a undershirt, here past it\nbeen two winters when it got so cold.\n\n\"One night us sot up all night and kept a big fire. Next morning it was\nde biggest frost all over de ground; but us never got one mite cold. De\ngood white ladies of de community made our red shirts fer us. I 'spects\nMarse Jimmie ken name some fer you.\n\n\"I got eve'y registration ticket in my house, and I still votes allus de\ndemocratic ticket. I has longed to de Democratic club ever since de red\nshirt days and I has voted dat way all de time. I was jes' turn't\nseventeen when I jined de Red Shirts and got into de Democratic Club,\nand I has been in it ever since. It ain't gwine out neither.\n\n\"I sho seed Hampton speak from Dr. Culp's porch. I voted fer him. At dat\ntime, I lived on de Keenan place. Marse Jimmie Young, he de overseer fer\nMr. Keenan. Mr. Charles Ray owns and lives on it now. Dat brick church\nstraight up de road from de Keenan place; straight as a bee line. Dat\nwhar us met most o' de time fer de Red Shirt gatherings. Our Red Shirt\nClub was called de 'Fairforest' club atter de Lower Fairforest white\nfolks Baptist church. De church has allus sot on de banks o' Fairforest\nCreek. Atter us got organized, I used to tote our flag. I was de onliest\ndarky dat toted it.\n\n\"I is done handed you a few names: dey is all Democratic names. Lots of\ndem 'scapes my knowledge, it has all been so long ago. Dar was Mr.\nGilmer Greer. Miss Gilmer Blankenship what lives out dar, she his niece.\nMr. John Sims 'nother white man I members. Dar was lots o' companies in\ndis county, but I does not recall how many.\n\n\"Captain Jimmie Young would allus notify when dar was to be a meeting.\nUs darkies dat 'longed 'ud go and tell de white mens to come to de\nchurch. Us met sometime right 'fo de 'lection and all de companies come\ntogether at de ole courthouse dat stood right whar de new one is now.\n\n\"Robinson's Circus come to Union. De circus folks gib everbody a free\nticket to de circus dat 'longed to de Democratic Club. Dey let all de\nscalawag niggers in fer registration tickets dat de Republicans had done\ngive dem to vote fer Chamberlain. Dem niggers wanted to go to de circus\nwu'se dan dey wanted to do anything else. Dey never dre'mt dat dey was\nnot a going to git to vote like de carpetbaggers, and de scalawags had\ndone tole dem to do. Fact is, dey never much cared jes' since de got in\nde circus. Dem dat wanted de registration tickets back when de come out,\nnever seed nobody to git 'em from nohows. Robinson's Circus was so big\ndat dey never showed it all in Union, but what dey had was out on\nMcClure's field. It wasn't no houses dar den, and, o' course, dar wasn't\nno mill no whar about Union in dem days. All de tents dat was staked was\nstaked in McClure's ole field over on 'Tosch' Branch. In dem days, dat\nfield was de biggest territory in de clear around Union. Atter dat, all\nde Red Shirts met on de facade in front o' de courthouse. Mos' all de\nmens made a speech. Another darky sung a song like dis: 'Marse Hampton\nwas a honest man; Mr. Chamberlain was a rogue'--Den I sung a song like\ndis: 'Marse Hampton et de watermelon, Mr. Chamberlain knawed de rine.'\nUs jest having fun den, kaise us had done 'lected Marse Hampton as de\nnew governor of South Ca'linia.\"\n\n  =Source:= \"Uncle Pen\" Eubanks, Hampton Ave. Union, S.C. (age 83)\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (5/4/37)\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655.\n  W. W. Dixon,\n  Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n  LEWIS EVANS\n  EX-SLAVE 96 YEARS\n\n\nLewis Evans lives on the lands of the estate of the late C.L. Smith,\nabout ten miles southwest of Winnsboro, S.C. The house is a two-room\nframe structure, with a chimney in the center. He has the house and\ngarden lot, free of rent, for the rest of his life, by the expressed\nwish of Mr. Smith before his demise. The only other occupant is his\nwife, Nancy, who is his third wife and much younger than Lewis. She does\nall the work about the home. They exist from the produce of the garden,\noutput of fowls, and the small pension Lewis receives. They raise a pig\neach year. This gives them their meat for the succeeding year.\n\n\"Who I b'long to? Where was I born? White folks tell me I born after de\nstars fell, (1833), but maybe I too little to 'member de day. Just have\nto go by what I hear them say. Think it was 'bout 1841. All accounts is,\nI was born a slave of Marster John Martin, near Jenkinsville. Old\nMistress, his wife, named Miss Margaret. All I can 'member 'bout them is\ndis: They had 'bout fifteen slaves, me 'mongst them. His daughter\nmarried a doctor, Doctor Harrison. I was sold to Maj. William Bell, who\nlived 'bout ten or twelve miles from old Marster. I's a good size boy\nthen. Maj. Bell had ten families when I got dere. Put me to hoein' in de\nfield and dat fall I picked cotton. Next year us didn't have cotton\nplanters. I was took for one of de ones to plant de cotton seed by\ndrappin' de seed in de drill. I had a bag 'round my neck, full of seeds,\nfrom which I'd take handfuls and sow them 'long in de row. Us had a\nhorse-gin and screwpit, to git de cotton fit for de market in\nCharleston. Used four mules to gin de cotton and one mule to pack it in\na bale. Had rope ties and all kinds of bagging. Seems to me I 'members\nseein' old flour sacks doubled for to put de cotton bales in, in de\nscrew-press.\n\n\"Us raised many cows, hogs, sheep, and goats on de Bell place. Us worked\nhard. Us all had one place to eat. Had two women cooks and plenty to\neat, cooked in big pots and ovens. Dere was iron pegs in and up de\nkitchen chimneys, chain and hooks to hold pots 'bove de fire. Dat's de\nway to boil things, meats and things out de garden.\n\n\"Whippin's? Yes sir, I got 'most skinned alive once, when I didn't bring\nup de cows one Sunday. Got in a fight wid one of Miss Betsie Aiken's\nhands and let de cows git away, was de cause of de whippin'. I was\n'shamed to tell him 'bout de fight. Maj. Bell, dis time, whipped me\nhisself.\n\n\"My white folks was psalm singers. I done drove them to de old brick\nchurch on Little River every Sabbath, as they call Sunday. Dere was Miss\nMargaret, his wife, Miss Sallie and Miss Maggie and de two young\nmarsters, Tom and Hugh. De two boys and me in front and my mistress and\nde two girls behind. Maj. Bell, when he went, rode his saddle horse.\n\n\"Who-ee! Don't talk to dis nigger 'bout patrollers. They run me many a\ntime. You had to have a pass wid your name on it, who you b'long to,\nwhere gwine to, and de date you expected back. If they find your pass\nwas to Mr. James' and they ketch you at Mr. Rabb's, then you got a\nfloggin', sure and plenty. Maj. Bell was a kind master and would give us\nSaturday. Us would go fishin' or rabbit huntin' sometime.\n\n\"Us had two doctors, Doctor Furman and Doctor Davis. White folks care\nfor you when you sick. I didn't have no money in slavery time, didn't\nhave no use for none. Us had no quarters, houses just here and dere on\nde place, 'round de spring where us got water.\n\n\"My Marster went to de old war and was a major. He had brass buttons,\nbutterflies on his shoulders, and all dat, when he come back.\n\n\"De Yankees come. Fust thing they look for was money. They put a pistol\nright in my forehead and say: 'I got to have your money, where is it?'\nDere was a gal, Caroline, who had some money; they took it away from\nher. They took de geese, de chickens and all dat was worth takin' off de\nplace, stripped it. Took all de meat out de smoke-house, corn out de\ncrib, cattle out de pasture, burnt de gin-house and cotton. When they\nleft, they shot some cows and hogs and left them lying right dere. Dere\nwas a awful smell round dere for weeks after.\n\n\"Somethin' d'rected me, when I was free, to go work where I was born, on\nde Martin place. I married Mary Douglas, a good-lookin' wench. A Yankee\ntook a fancy to her and she went off wid de Yankee. She stayed a long\ntime, then come back, but I'd done got Preacher Rice to marry me to\nLouvinia then. Dis second wife was a good gal. I raised ten chillun by\nher, but I's outlived them all but Manuel, Clara and John. When Louvinia\npassed out, I got Magistrate Smith to jine me and Nancy. She's still\nlivin'. Home sick now, can't do nothin'.\n\n\"White people been good to me. I've been livin' in dis home, free of\nrent, given me for life by Mr. Jim Smith, 'cause I was his faithful\nservant twenty years.\n\n\"Many times I's set up in de gallery of de old brick church on Little\nRiver. They had a special catechism for de slaves, dat asked us who made\nyou, what He made you out of, and what He made you for? I ain't forgot\nde answers to dis day.\n\n\"Marster Major give us Chris'mas day and a pass to visit 'bout but we\nsho' had to be back and repo't befo' nine o'clock dat same day.\n\n\"I got my name after freedom. My pappy b'long to Mr. David R. Evans. His\nname was Steve; wasn't married reg'lar to my mammy. So when I went to\ntake a name in Reconstruction, white folks give me Lewis Evans.\n\n\"I b'longs to de Baptist church. Am trustin' in de Lord. He gives me a\nconscience and I knows when I's doin' right and when de devil is ridin'\nme and I's doin' wrong. I never worry over why He made one child white\nand one child black. He make both for His glory. I sings 'Swing Low,\nSweet Chariot, Jesus Gwine Carry Me Home.' Ain't got many more days to\nstay. I knows I'm gwine Home.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  W. W. Dixon,\n  Winnsboro, S.C.\n\n  PHILLIP EVANS\n  EX-SLAVE 85 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nPhillip Evans, his wife, Janie, and their crippled son live together in\na two-room frame house with one fireplace. The old woman has been a wet\nnurse for many white families in Winnsboro. Neither Phillip nor his boy\ncan work. The wife nurses occasionally.\n\n\"I was born at de General Bratton Canaan place 'bout six miles, sort of\nup a little, on de sunrise side of Winnsboro. I hopes you're not\ncontrary like, to think it too much against dis old slave when I tells\nyou de day. Well sir, dat day was de fust day of April but pray sir,\ndon't write me down a fool 'cause I born on dat p'ticular April Fool\nDay, 1852. When I gits through wid you, I wants you to say if dat\nbirthday have any 'fect on dis old man's sensibility.\n\n\"My pappy was name Dick. Him was bought by General Bratton from de sale\nof de Evans estate. My pappy often tell mammy and us chillun, dat his\npappy was ketched in Africa and fetched to America on a big ship in a\niron cage, 'long wid a whole heap of other black folks, and dat he was\npowerful sick at de stomach de time he was on de ship.\n\n\"My mammy was name Charlotte. Her say her know nothin' 'bout her daddy\nor where he come from. One of my brothers is de Reverend Jackson C.\nEvans, age 72. Richard, another brother, is 65 years old. All of us born\non de Canaan Bratton place. General Bratton love dat place; so him named\nit proud, like de Land of Canaan.\n\n\"I help to bring my brother Richard, us calls him Dick, into de world.\nDat is, when mammy got in de pains, I run for de old granny on de place\nto come right away. Us both run all de way back. Good us did, for dat\nboy come right away. I 'members, to dis hour and minute, dat as soon as\ndat boy got here, he set de house full of noise, a-cryin' like a cat\nsquallin'. All chillun does dat though, as soon as they come into de\nworld. I got one sister older than me; her name Jenny Watson. Her live\nin a house on de Canaan place, callin' distance from where I live. Us is\nMethodists. A proud family, brought low by Mr. Hoover and his crowd. Had\nto sell our land. 'Spect us would have starved, as us too proud to beg.\nThank God, Mr. Roosevelt come 'long. Him never ask whether us democrat\nor 'publican nor was us black or white; him just clothe our nakedness\nand ease de pains of hunger, and goin' further, us goin' to be took care\nof in our old age. Oh, how I love dat man; though they do say him got\nenemies.\n\n\"My brother, de preacher, says dat occasioned by de fact dat de\nPresident got a big stick and a big foot, dat sometime he tromp on de\ngout foots of some of them rich people. Howsomever, he say dat as long\nas de Lord, de Son, and de Holy Ghost is wid de President, it'll be all\nright for us colored folks. It makes no difference 'bout who is against\nde President. He says us niggers down South can do nothin' but be\nMethodist, pray to de Lord, and shout for de President. I's goin' to try\nto do some of de prayin' but dis voice too feeble to do much shoutin'.\n\n\"What kind of house us live in at slavery time? Nice plank house. All de\nhouses in de quarters made dat way. Our beds was good. Us had a good\nmarster. Our livin' houses and vittles was better and healthier than\nthey is now. Big quarters had many families wid a big drove of chillun.\nFed them from big long trays set on planks. They eat wid iron spoons,\nmade at de blacksmith's shop. What they eat? Peas, beans, okra, Irish\n'tators, mush, shorts, bread, and milk. Dere was 'bout five or six acres\nto de garden. Us kept fat and happy.\n\n\"Who was de overseers? Mr. Wade Rawls was one and Mr. Osborne was\nanother. There was another one but 'spect I won't name him, 'cause him\nhad some trouble wid my Uncle Dennis. 'Pears like he insult my aunt and\nbeat her. Uncle Dennis took it up, beat de overseer, and run off to de\nwoods. Then when he git hungry, him come home at night for to eat\nsumpin'. Dis kept up 'til one day my pappy drive a wagon to town and\nDennis jined him. Him was a settin' on de back of de wagon in de town\nand somebody point him out to a officer. They clamp him and put him in\njail. After de 'vestigation they take him to de whippin' post of de\ntown, tie his foots, make him put his hands in de stocks, pulled off his\nshirt, pull down his britches and whip him terrible.\n\n\"No sir, Marster General Bratton didn't 'low his slaves' chillun to\nwork. I just played 'round, help feed de stock and pigs, bring in de\nfruit from de orchard and sich like.\n\n\"Yes sir, marster give me small coins. What I do wid de money? I buy a\npretty cap, one time. Just don't 'members what I did wid it all.\n\n\"Us went fishin' in de Melton Branch, wid hooks. Ketch rock rollers,\nperch and catfish. They eat mighty good. I like de shortnin' bread and\nsugar cane 'lasses best and de fust time I ever do wrong was 'bout de\nwatermelons.\n\n\"Our shoes was made on de place. They had wooden bottoms. My daddy,\nbeing de foreman, was de only slave dat was give de honor to wear boots.\n\n\"Dere was just two mulattoes on de place. One was a daughter of my aunt.\nAll de niggers was crazy 'bout her and wid de consent of my aunt,\nmarster give her to some kinfolks in Arkansas. De other was name, Rufus.\nMy marster was not his daddy. No use to put down dere in writing just\nwho his pappy was.\n\n\"Stealing was de main crime. De whippin's was put on de backs, and if\nyou scowled, dat would git you a whippin' right dere and then.\n\n\"Yes sir, dere is haunts, plenty of them. De devil is de daddy and they\nis hatched out in de swamps. My brother say they is demons of hell and\nhas de witches of de earth for their hosses.\n\n\"De neighbors 'bout was de Neils, de Rawls, de Smiths, and de Mobleys.\nMarse Ed Mobley was great for huntin'. Marse General Bratton was a great\nsheep raiser. In spite of dat, they got along; though de dogs pestered\nde sheep and de shotguns peppered de dogs sometimes.\n\n\"My marster was a general in de Secession War. After dat, him a\ncontroller of de State. Him run old 'Buttermilk' Wallace out of\nCongress. Then he was a Congressman.\n\n\"My mistress was Miss Bettie. Her was a DuBose. Her child, Miss\nIsabella, marry some big man up North and their son, Theodore, is de\nbishop of de high 'Piscopal Church of Mississippi.\n\n\"Now I repeats de question: Does you think I's a fool just 'cause I's\nborn on dat fust day of April, 1852?\n\n\"You made me feel religious askin' all them questions. Seem like a voice\nof all de days dat am gone turn over me and press on de heart, and dis\nroom 'fect me like I was in a church. If you ever pass de Canaan place\nI'd be mighty happy to see you again.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  June 16, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\"I was born in old Abbeville County, S.C. about 1861; was reared in what\nis now Greenwood County. My father was Winston Arnold and my mother,\nSophronia Lomax Arnold. They belonged to the Arnold family during\nslavery time. I was just a small child during the Confederate War, and\ndon't remember anything about it. I heard my mother tell about some\nthings though. The slaves earned no money and were just given quarters\nto live in and something to eat. My father was a blacksmith on master's\nplace, and after the war, he was blacksmith for himself. I heard him\ntell about the patrollers. They had lots of cornshuckings and cotton\npickings, but they never worked at night.\n\n\"I remember the night-riders, but don't remember that they did any harm\nmuch except they got after a man once.\n\n\"When any of us got sick we sent for a doctor, but old-time folks I\nheard about, would use herbs, tree barks, and the like of that to make\nteas to drink.\n\n\"I married in a negro church when I was young. I married Frank Fair who\ncame from Newberry County, S.C. After the ceremony, the neighbors gave\nme a nice dinner at the church.\n\n\"I don't remember anything about Lincoln or Jeff Davis, but I think\nBooker Washington is a leading colored man and has done good.\n\n\"I joined the church when I was nine years old, because my father and\nmother belonged, and so many young people were joining. I think\neverybody ought to join a church.\"\n\n  =Source:= Eugenia Fair (76). Greenwood, S.C.\n          Interviewed By: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/10/37)\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  Folklore\n  Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n  Oct. 14, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I lives in Newberry in a small three-room house which belongs to my\nson. He helps me some 'cause I can't work except jest a little 'round de\nhouse.\n\n\"I don't know much 'bout de war times. All I know is what I told you\nbefo'. I 'member when de war quit and freedom come. Most of de slaves\nhad to find work where dey could. Some had to work as share-croppers,\nsome fer wages, and later on, some rented small plots of land. Many\nniggers since de war moved to town and worked as day hands, such as\ncarpenters, janitors, dray drivers and de like.\n\n\"De old time folks had blacksmith shops on de farm and made most of de\ntools dey used. Dey had plenty to eat. We never wanted fer nothing and\nalways lived good. I had it better den dan I does now.\n\n\"In slavery when de patrollers rode up and down de roads, once a nigger\nboy stole out to see his gal, all dressed up to kill. De patrollers\nfound him at his gal's house and started to take off his coat so dey\ncould whip him; but he said, 'Please don't let my gal see under my coat,\n'cause I got on a bosom and no shirt'. (The custom was to wear stiff,\nwhite bosoms held up around the neck when no shirt was on. This gave the\nappearance of a shirt.)\n\n\"My sister-in-law and mother-in-law both come from Virginia but I don't\n'member anything dey said 'bout dat country. My sister-in-law went back\ndere atter freedom come, but her mama died here.\n\n\"Us slaves went to de white folks' church at Cross Roads, and our\nmistress made us go. She often would teach us to read and write at home\nwhen we would try to learn. Mistress had a nigger driver fer her\ncarriage, and when he drove he wore a high beaver hat and a long coat.\nOur white folks had a big kitchen way off from de house. Dey had a big\nwide fireplace where dey cooked over de fire in skillets. My mistress\nhad me to work in de house, kind of a house-girl, and she made me keep\nclean and put large ear rings in my ears so I would look good. When\nChristmas come, Marse and Mistress always give de slaves good things to\neat. Dey had lots of cows, and dey give us good butter and milk,\nmolasses, meats and other good things to eat. We always worked on week\ndays except Saturdays, and sometimes on dat day until 12 o'clock. We\nalways had Christmas and Easter holidays.\n\n\"We had corn-shuckings and cotton-pickings. De niggers would sing: 'Job,\nJob, farm in a row; Job, Job, farm in a row'. Sometimes on moonlight\nnights we had pender pullings and when we got through we had big\nsuppers, always wid good potatoes or pumpkin pies, de best eating ever.\nWe made corn bread wid plenty of milk, eggs and lard, and sometimes wid\nsweet potatoes, de best corn bread in de world. 'Simmon bread was made\nwid sifted 'simmon juice cooked wid flour.\n\n\"I married first time to Joe Todd, and had a big wedding what my\nmistress give me in her back yard. She had a big shoat killed fer de\nwedding dinner. My mistress den was Miss Cornelia Ervin. When I married\nde second time, I married in town to West Farrow, in de colored people's\nBaptist church, by Rev. West Rutherford, a nigger preacher, de pastor.\nMy second husband died, too, a few years ago.\n\n\"I can't 'member much 'bout old songs, but a Baptist song was: 'Down to\nde water, River of Jordon; Down to de water, River of Jordon; Dere my\nSavior was baptized.'\n\nAnother version went thus:\n\n  \"Come along, come along, my dear loving brother,\n  Come along and let's go home;\n  Down into de River where my Savior was baptized.'\n\n\"De present generation of niggers ain't like de ones when I come along.\nDey don't work like I did.\n\n\"I don't know much about 'Abramham' Lincoln, Jefferson Davis or Booker\nWashington. I just hear about Booker Washington, reckon he is all right.\n\n\"I think slavery helped me. I did better den dan I do now. When I joined\nde church I was grown and married, and had two chilluns. I joined de\nchurch because I thought I ought to settle down and do better fer my\nfamily, and quit dancing and frolicing.\"\n\n  =Source:= Caroline Farrow (N. 80), Newberry, S.C.\n          Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (9/16/37)\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  May 24, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in Newberry County. Near Chappells depot. My master, in\nslavery time, was John Boazman. He was a good man to his slaves. I was\nraised in the big-house, and helped as a servant-girl. My mistress\nsmoked a pipe, and sometimes she would have me to get a red coal from de\nfire and put it in her pipe. I did dat wid tongs. I lived there a long\ntime. I come to Newberry over 40 years ago and worked wid de white\npeople in town.\n\n\"I married twice. My first husband was Joe Todd, and after he died, I\nmarried West Farrow. He was a dray-man in town for many years.\n\n\"The folks back home had fine farms, good gardens, and took pride in\nraising all kinds of things in the garden. They allus planted Irish\npotatoes the second time in one season.\n\n\"They cooked in big open fireplaces, in kitchens that set away off from\nthe house. A big spider was always used for cooking over the fireplace.\n\n\"After de war, we stayed on awhile. My mistress took me to de white\nfolks' church and made me sit in the gallery; then brought me home.\"\n\n  =Source:= Caroline Farrow (80), Newberry, S.C.\n          Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (5/18/37)\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  June 28, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I do not knows when er whar I was born. My father was Price Feaster;\nmother was Lucy Richards Feaster. She belonged to Mr. Berry Richards dat\nlived 'tween Maybinton and Goshen Hill Township, on de 'Richards\nQuarter'. My sister name Harriet; brothers was Albert and Billy, and\ndats all de chilluns dere was in de family. My furs' recollection dat I\nknows was when we went to de Carlisles. I was so young dat I can't\nrecall nothing much 'bout de Feaster plantation. Our beds was home-made\nand had ropes pulled tight frum one side to de other fer de slats. No\nsir, I doesn't know nothing 'bout no grandmaw and grandpaw.\n\n\"De furs' work dat I done was drapping peas. Albert was plow-hand when I\ncome into de world. Harriet was up big enough to plant corn and peas,\ntoo. Billy looked atter de stock and de feeding of all de animals on de\nfarm. My furs' money was made by gathering blackberries to sell at\nGoshen Hill to a lady dat made wine frum dem. I bought candy wit de\nmoney; people was crazy 'bout candy den. Dat's de reason I ain't got no\ntoofies now.\n\n\"Ole lady Abbie looked out fer our rations. De mens eat on one side and\nde gals on t'other side de trough. We eat breakfast when de birds furs'\ncommence singing off'n de roost. Jay birds 'ud allus call de slaves. Dey\nlowed: 'it's day, it's day,' and you had to git up. Dere wasn't no\nwaiting 'bout it. De whipperwill say, 'cut de chip out de whiteoak,'\nyou better git up to keep frum gitting a whipping. Doves say, 'who you\nis, who you is.' Dat's a great sign in a dove. Once people wouldn't kill\ndoves, ole marse sho would whip you if you did. Dove was furs' thing dat\nbring something back to Noah when de flood done gone frum over de land.\nWhen Freedom come, birds change song. One say, 'don't know what you\ngwine to do now.' 'n other one low, 'take a lien, take a lien.' Niggers\nlive fat den wid bacon sides.\n\n\"Mr. Billy Thompson and Mr. Bill Harris' daddy give liens in dem days;\ndese big mens den. Captain Foster clothed de niggers atter Freedom.\n\n\"Ole lady Abbie give us mush and milk fer breakfast. Shorts and seconds\nwas mixed wid de mush; no grease in de morning a-tall. Twelve o'clock\nbrung plenty cow-peas, meat, bread and water. At night us drunk milk and\net bread, black bread made frum de shorts. Jes' had meat at twelve\no'clock, 'course 'sharpers' 'ud eat meat when marster didn't know. Dey\ngo out and git 'em a hog frum a drove of seventy-five er a hund'ed; dat\none never be missed.\n\n\"I is awful to hunt; come to Union to sell my rabbits and 'possums. Mr.\nCohen dat run a brick yard, he buy some. Ole man Dunbar run'ed a market.\nHe was ole man den. He's de beef market man; he take all de rabbits and\nsell 'em when I couldn't git a thing fer 'em. Ole lady living den, and\nwhen I git home she low is I got any 'loady' (something to eat). I come\nin wid beef and cow heads. Cow foots was de best meat. Dey throws all\nsech as dat away now. Dere was allus a fuss in de house iffen I never\nhad no 'loady'. Somehow er another I was allus a family man and was\nlucky to git in wid mens dat help me on. Never suffered wid help frum\ndese kind men. Dat's de way I got along as well as I has. Ole Missus and\nMarse learn't me to never tell a lie, and she teached me dat's de way to\ngit along well. I still follows dat.\n\n\"Up in age, I got in wid cap'n Perram (Mr. George Perrin). He was de\nbanker. He say 'bout me, 'what I likes 'bout Gus, he never tell a lie'.\n\n\"Befo' dat, I work fer Lawyer Monroe. He had a brother named Jim and one\nnamed George, his name Bill. His sister named Miss Sally. Dar I farm fer\ndem and work on half'uns. De Yankees camped on his place whar Mr. Gordon\nGodshall now got a house. N'used to go dar mi'night ev'y night and ev'y\nday. Dey had a pay day de furs' and de fifteenth of de month. Dey's\nterrible fer 'engans' (onions) and eggs. Dey git five marbles and put\ndem in a ring; put up fifty cents. Furs' man knocks out de middle-man\n(marble) got de game. Dey's jes' sporty to dat. Never had nothing but\ngreenbacks den. Fifteen cents and ten cents pieces and twenty-five and\nas high as fifty cents pieces was paper in dem times.\n\n\"Dey larn't us a song: 'If I had ole Abe Lincoln all over dis world, but\nI know I can't whip him; but I fight him 'till I dies'. Dey low'd, 'we\nfreeded you alls'.\n\n\"Another song was: 'Salvation free fer all mankind; Salvation free fer\nall mankind'. I was glad er all salvation. 'Salvation free fer me'; got\nup dat song furs' on a moonlight night, and us sing it all night long,\ngoing from house to house.\n\n\"'Motherless chilluns sees hard times; just ain't got no whar to go;\ngoes from do' to do',' dat's de song dey got up. I doesn't know whar it\ncome from. 'Nother one was: 'When de sun refuse to shine; Lord I wants\nto be in de number, when de sun refuse to shine. If I had a po' mother\nshe gone on befo', Lord I promise her I would meet her when de saints go\nmarching in.' Dat's what lots people is still trying to do.\n\n\"We sot mud baskets fer cat fish; tie grapevines on dem and put dem in\nde river. We cotch some wid hooks. I went seining many times and I set\nnets; bought seins and made de nets. Pull up sein after a rain and have\nseventy-five or eighty fish; sometimes have none. Peter Mills made our\ncat fish stew and cooked ash-cake bread fer us to eat it wid. Water come\nto our necks while we seining and we git de fish while we drifting down\nstream.\n\n\"We wear cotton clothes in hot weather, dyed wid red dirt or mulberries,\nor stained wid green wa'nuts--dat is de hulls. Never had much exchanging\nof clothes in cold weather. In dat day us haul wood eight or ten feet\nlong. De log houses was daubed wid mud and dey was warm. Fire last all\nnight from dat big wood and de house didn't git cold. We had heavy shoes\nwid wood soles; heavy cotton socks which was wore de whole year through\nde cold weather, but we allus go barefeeted in hot weather. Young boys\nthirteen to fifteen years old had de foots measured. When tracks be seed\nin de wa'melon patch, dey was called up, and if de measurements of dere\ntracks fitted de ones in de wa'melon patch, dat was de guilty nigger. I\n'clar, you had to talk purty den. When I go in de wa'melon patch, I git\nde old missus to say fer me to go; den I could eat and nothing was said\n'bout it.\n\n\"Sunday clothes was died red fer de gals; boys wore de same. We made de\ngals' hoops out'n grape vines. Dey give us a dime, if dey had one, fer a\nset of hoops.\n\n\"Twan't no dressing up fer marring in slavery times; just say, 'gwine to\nbe a marriage tonight' and you see 'bout 40 or 50 folks dar to see it.\nIf it be in wa'melon time, dey had a big feast atter de wedding. Old man\npreacher Tony would marry you fer nothing. De keep de wedding cake fer\nthree weeks befo' it was eat.\"\n\n  =Source:= Gus Feaster (97), 20, Stutz Ave., Union, S.C.\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  July 7, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I ain't never give you dis information. Miss Susie and Miss Tommie\nCarlisle, Marse Tom's onliest daughters, died befo' de surrender. Miss\nSusie slipped one day wid de scissors in her hand, and when she did dem\nscissors tuck and stuck in one her eyes and put it plum' smack out and\nshe never did see out'n it no mo'. Dat made it so sad, and everybody\ncried wid her but it never done her narry bit of good.\n\n\"When dem young ladies died, I left out and run off from my ma and come\nto Union. Mr. Eller kept a big sto' jest as you come into town. It was\njest about whar Mr. Mobley Jeter's is now. Dat's in de middle of town,\nbut in de fur off days I is speaking about, it was de very outskirts of\ndis town. I is seed dis town grow, dat is what I is. Mr. Eller tuck me\nto be his driving boy, and dat sto' sot jest exactly whar de Chevet\nCharage (Chevrolet Garage) sets now.\n\n\"When I been dar six years, my ma come to Union and she found me dar. Us\nwas dat glad to lay eyes on one another dat we jest shouted fur joy and\nmy Ma tuck and smacked me wid her lips right in de mouth. She told me\ndat my pa had done got shot a fixing dem old breastworks down in\nCharleston and dat called fur a big cry from me and her both. Mr. Eller,\nhe went out'n de back of his sto' 'till us quit. He let me go back home\nto de Carlisle place wid my ma. Everything done changed and I brung my\nma back to Union and kept her, kaise I was a man in full den.\n\n\"Lawyer Shand tuck my ma to work fur him and I started being his\ncoachman. He ole and he live in Columbia now. When he done dat, me and\nma lived in one of his houses. He lived on what you knows as Douglas\nHeights and he had de biggest house dar. Dat was way befo' Captain\nDouglas moved from Goshen Hill. Den Captain Douglas tuck de day and\nbuilt dat house you sees now aheading what dey calls Douglas Heights\natter Lawyer Shand's house was to' (torn) down. De house sot right on\ntop de hill in de middle of de street you sees. His driveway was flanked\nwid water oaks and it retched down to Main street. De grounds was on\neach side dat drive and dey retched to whar de white folks is got a\nschool (high school) now. On de other side of dat drive his grounds hit\nMiss Fant's (Mrs. John Fant's property).\n\n\"You could clam up Cap Douglas' stairs and git in a run-around (cupola)\nand see de whole town through dem glass winders. (This cupola is still\non the house.) Never had none of dem things in Union afo' dat. Some\nyears atter dat, when Col. Duncan had his house run over (remodeled) he\nhad one of dem run-arounds put on his'n. To dis day wid all de fine\nfixings folks has in Union, dar ain't narry one got none of dem things\nand dey sho' is purty.\n\n\"Let me drap back, kaise I is gone too fer along; you wants olden times.\nOn our plantation Marse Tom had a nigger driver. He 'hoop and holler and\nwake us up at break of day. But befo' freedom come 'long, Marse got a\nbell; den dat nigger driver rung dat bell at break of day. He was a\nsorry nigger dat never had no quality in him a'tall, no sir-ee.\n\n\"Us had to feed de mules in de dark of mornings and de black of night\nwhen craps needed working bad. Seed many as a dozen hoe-womens in de\nfield at one time. Dey come when dey finished breakfast and de plows had\ngot a start.\n\n\"Dey used mulberry skins from fresh mulberry saplins to tie around dere\nwaists fer belts. If your singletree chain broke, you fixed it wid\nmulberry skins; same wid your galluses. Mulberry is mighty strong and\neasy to tie anything dat break.\n\n\"Marse Tom never whipped 'bout nothing much but stealing. He never let\nhis overseer do no whipping if he knowed it. He burnt you up 'bout\nstealing, dat he would.\n\n\"Dey never wanted us to git no larning. Edmund Carlisle, smartest nigger\nI is ever seed. He cut out blocks from pine bark on de pine tree and\nsmooth it. Git white oak or hickory stick. Git a ink ball from de oak\ntrees, and on Sadday and Sunday slip off whar de white folks wouldn't\nknow 'bout it. He use stick fer pen and drap oak ball in water and dat\nbe his ink atter it done stood all night. He larnt to write his name and\nhow to make figures. Marse Jule and Bill, two of Marse Tom's boys, found\nout dat Edmund could write and dey wanted to whip him, but Marse Tom\nwouldn't let 'em.\n\n\"One morning Edmund was making a big fire 'round all de pots, kaise we\nwas butchering forty hogs. Edmund had his head under de pot a blowing up\nde fire dat had done tuck and died to embers. Jule and Bill seed him and\ndey broke and run and pushed Edmund plum' under dem pots. De embers\nburnt his face and de hair off'n his head. Marse Tom wo' (wore) Bill and\nJule out fer it. Missus 'lowed den dat Edmund de smartest nigger on dat\nplantation.\n\n\"We had Sadday afternoons to do our work and to wash. We had all de\nhollidays off and a big time Christmas and July Fourth.\n\n\"Going to funerals we used all Marse's wagons. Quick as de funeral\nstart, de preacher give out a funeral hymn. All in de procession tuck up\nde tune and as de wagons move along wid de mules at a slow walk,\neverybody sing dat hymn. When it done, another was lined out, and dat\nkept up 'till we reach de graveyard. Den de preacher pray and we sing\nsome mo'. In dem days funerals was slow fer both de white and de black\nfolks. Now dey is so fast, you is home again befo' you gits dar good.\n\n\"On de way home from de funeral, de mules would perk up a little in dey\nwalk and a faster hymn was sung on de way home. When we got home, we was\nin a good mood from singing de faster hymns and de funeral soon be\nforgot.\n\n\"As a child everybody in dem days played marbles.\n\n\"Ma sung some of de oldest hymns dat I is ever heard: (He sang) 'O Zion,\nO Zion, O Zion, wanta git home at last'. (Another) 'Is you over, Is you\nover, Is you over' and the bass come back, 'Yes thank God, Yes thank\nGod, Yes thank God, I is over. How did you cross? At de ferry, at de\nferry, at de ferry, Yes, thank God I is over.' If I sing dem now folks\nlaughs at me, but ma sho' teached dem to her chilluns.\n\n\"When boys and gals gits up some size dey feels dey-selves. At dat age,\nwe went bird thrashing in de moon light. Den we sing dis vulgar song,\n'I'll give you half-dollar if you come out tonight; I'll give you\nhalf-dollar if you come out tonight'. Den de gals charmed us wid\nhoneysuckle and rose petals hid in dere bosoms. Now de gals goes to de\nten cent sto' and buys cheap perfume. In dem days dey dried\ncheneyberries (chinaberries) and painted dem and wo' dem on a string\naround dere necks to charm us.\n\n\"When us very little, ma say at night when she want us to go to bed and\nwe be playing marbles, 'Better come on in de house or Raw Hide and\nBloody Bones 'll git you. From den on I is seed spooks.\n\n\"Our work song was, 'John Henry was a man; he worked all over dis town'.\nDey still uses dat song. In slavery some holler when dey be in de field\nlike owls; some like crows; and some like pea-fowls. Missus had de\npurtiest pea-fowls in de whole country. Don't see none now, but dar\nain't nothing dat flies purtier.\n\n\"Me and Wade Carlisle was 'possum hunting one night in de fall when de\ndogs bedded a 'possum in a grave. We dug down and got de 'possum. He was\ndat big and fat and his hair was so shiny and purty dat we 'lowed dat he\nde finest 'possum we had cotch dat fall.\n\n\"Jest den, Wade struck de box dat de dead man was a-lying in. Jest as he\ndid dat, a light jumped out'n dat grave right in front of us and all\nover Wade's shovel. Our two dogs tuck and run and holler and stick dey\ntails betwix dey legs like somebody a-whipping dem. Dem dogs never\nstopped running and howling 'till dey reached home, me and Wade right\nbehind dem. Wade had dat 'possum in his hand. Dat light now and den jump\nright in front of us.\n\n\"I hollered, 'Wade, fer de Lawd in Heaven sake, drap dat 'possum.' He\ndrapped it and we run 'till we got home. Wade still had dat shovel--or\nwas it a axe--. I jest recollects which, anyway, he still had it in his\nhand; and when I looked at it, it was still shining. I pinted my finger\nat it, kaise I was dat scared dat no words wouldn't come from my mouth.\nWade throwed it in de wood pile and we run in de house wid it still\nshining at us.\n\n\"I stayed dar all night, and I ain't never been hunting in no graveyard\nat night since dat; and if de good Lawd give me sense I is got now, I\nain't never gwine to do it no mo'.\n\n\"It ain't no good a-'sturbing dead folks. All befo' dat I is heard it\ngits you in bad, and now since den I knows it.\"\n\n  =Source:= Gus Feaster (col. 97), 20 Stutz Ave., Union, S.C.\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (7/1/37)\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  From Misc. Field Notes\n  District No. 4\n  May 17, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Martha Ritter\n\n  FOLKLORE: NEGRO SLAVE.\n\n  SLAVE TIME CUSTOMS ON THE PLANTATION\n  OF THOMAS ANDERSON CARLISLE.\n\n\n\"Cap', my old Master's daughter, Mrs. George Perrin (Ida Rice) and Miss\nPeake (Mrs. Keitt Peake) 'lows I is done pas' 84. Miss Ida was 84 when\nshe died and I was allus mo' older dan she was, and a long ways at dat.\nI allus figers dat Ah is 97. Miss Agnes (Mrs. Keitt Peake) and Miss Ida\nwas lil' gals when I driv' dem to and from school ever' day fer ole\nMarse. You see I had to be a big boy to drive de Marse's chilluns to\nschool, 'specially when dey was lil' gals! I is a great deal older than\nMr. Bill Harris. I met him dis mornin' wid sweet 'tater in his pocket.\nHe 'lowed, 'Gus, you is jes' 'bout de oldes' nigger in dis county, ain't\nyou?' I raised my hat to 'im and 'lowed, Yessir, guess I is, Cap.\n\n\"Had to stay out and guard de silver and de gold jewels in de pines when\nmy white folks hid it dar to keep de Yankees from a-gittin' it. Dey\ndriv' de waggins in de pines and us unload de jewels and things and den\ndey would drive de waggins out de wood. When de waggin done got plum\naway us would take dry pine needles and kivver up all de waggin tracks\nand hoof prints after us had done raked de dirt smooth over dem. We\nstayed wid de silver and stuff and drink coffee and eat black crus'; dat\nde sweetnin' bread dat us had durin' de war. Couldn't git no sugar den.\nSometime we used sassafras tea as we never had no coffee to grind. De\nwhite folks was jes' as bad off as we was. From de big house dey brung\nour mess of vittals after dark had done fell.\n\n\"Poke salad was et in dem days to clean a feller out. Hit cum up tender\nevery spring and when it cut deep down in sand it looked white. It's an\nherb. Cut it; wash it and par boil; pour off water and ball up in balls\nin your hand; put in frying pan of hot grease (grease from ham or strip\nmeat) and fry. Season with black pepper and salt and eat with new spring\nonions. Tender white stems are better than the salad and of course\nearlier. Ash cake was good wid poke salad and clabber or butter milk and\nbest of all was sweet milk! Dat not only fill up your belly, but make\nyou fat and strong.\n\n\"Sometime de darkies would eat too much and git de colic. Fer dis dey\nwould take and chaw pine needles and it would be all over wid den. On\nall de plantations dar was old womens, too old to do any work and dey\nwould take and study what to do fer de ailments of grown folks and lil'\nchilluns. Fer de lil' chilluns and babies dey would take and chaw up\npine needles and den spit it in de lil' chilluns mouths and make dem\nswallow. Den when dey was a teachin' de babies to eat dey done de food\nde very same way. Dem old wimmens made pine rosin pills from de pine\nrosin what drapped from de pine trees and give de pills to de folks to\ntake fer de back ache. Dey allus kept de pine trees gashed fer dis\npurpose. Den day also gashed de sweet gum fer to git gum to chaw.\n'Twasn't no sech thing as chawin' gum till thirty years ago. Sweet gum,\nit's good fer de indigestion and fer de toofies, when it don't git yer\nmouth all stuck so as you can't say nothing. I 'spects dat de chief\nreason how come it done gone plum out o' date. I most fergot to inform\nyou dat resin pills is still de best thing dat I knows to start your\n\"water\" off when it done stopped on ye.\n\n\"It was a special day on each plantation when de Master and de o'seer\ngive out de week's rations, like dis: Four pounds o' bacon; one peck o'\nmeal; quart o' flour; quart o' molasses;--dey was dat black; and dey was\nde rations fer a whole endurin' week. Had a big choppin' block where all\nde meat was chopped on. In dem days every bit o' de meat was raised on\nde plantation from de Master's hogs. Into de grooves o' dis choppin'\nblock would git lodged small pieces o' meat. Choppin' ax was heavy and\nbroad. Heavy rations come out on Friday. On Sad'day come de shoulder\nmeat fer Sunday mornin' brekfas' and de flour come on Sad'day also. Our\nMaster give us hominy fer Sunday mornin' brekfas', kaise us had red meat\nwid gravy den. My Master was Marse' Tom Carlisle of Goshen Hill. He de\none give us dem Sunday specials. De niggers on de other surroundin'\nplantations never got no sech 'sideration as I ever heard of.\n\n\"Me and John minded de Missus' cows. When de red meat choppin' was done\nall de plantation chilluns would be dar to git what fall in de grooves\no' de blocks. One day John 'lowed to me if you puts your ol' black hand\non dat block 'fore I does today, I is a gwine to chop it off. I never\nsaid nary a word, but I jes' roll my eyes at him. I got dar and broke\nand run fer de block. I got big piece and when John come up I was eating\nit. I say, Nigger, you is too late and lazy fer anything. 'Bout that\ntime he reach over fer a scrap I never seed. I push him back and reach\nfer hit. John took up de choppin' ax and come right down on my finger,\n'fore I could git it out de way. Dat's why you see dis scar here now.\nDat nigger lay my finger plum wide open, fact is dat he jes' left it a\nhangin'. Marse's doctor and he fix it back. Den he whip John hisself;\nnever 'low de overseer to do it dat time. Marse Tom pretty good to us;\nnever whip much; never 'low de overseer, Mr. Wash Evans, to whip too\nmuch neither. He would have liked to whip mo' dan he did, if de Marse\nwould 'lowed it, but he wasn't so bad. Mr. Evans wasn't no po' white\ntrash, but he was kinder middlin' like. De Evans is done riz high up\nnow.\n\n\"Newt and Anderson was my young marsters. Dey was 'long 'bout my own\nage. Dey went to school at Goshen Hill. De school was near de store,\nsome folks called it de tradin' post in dem days. De had barrels o'\nliquor settin' out from de store in a long row. Sold de likker to de\nrich mens dat carried on at de race track near by. Folks in Goshen was\nall rich in dem days. Rogers Church, where de Carlisles, Jeters, Sims,\nSelbys, Glens, and lots of other folks went too and de slaves, was de\nrichest country church in dis part o' de whole state, so I is often been\ntold. Ebenezer, over in Maybinton, was de onliest church in de whole\ncountry dat tried to strive wid Rogers in de way o' finery and style. De\nHendersons, Maybins, Hardys, Douglasses, Cofields, Chicks and Oxners\nwas de big folks over dar. Both de churches was Methodist.\n\n\"Every summer de carried on Camp Meetin' at Rogers. All de big Methodist\npreachers would come from way off den. Dey was entertained in de\nCarlisle big house. Missus put on de dog (as de niggers says now) den.\nEvery thing was cleaned up jes' 'fore de meetin' like us did fer de\nearly-spring cleanin'. Camp Meetin' come jes' after de craps was done\nlaid by. Den all craps was done laid by befo' July de Fourth. It was\nunheard of fer anybody to let de Fourth come widout de craps out'n de\nway. Times is done changed now, Lawd. Den de fields was heavy wid corn\nhead high and cotton up aroun' de darky's waist! Grass was all cleaned\nout o' de furrow's on de las' go 'round. De fields and even de terraces\nwas put in 'apple pie' order fer de gatherin' o' de craps in de fall.\n\n\"As you all knows de Fourth has allus been nigger day. Marse and Missus\nhad good rations fer us early on de Fourth. Den us went to barbecues\nafter de mornin' chores was done. In dem days de barbecues was usually\nheld on de plantation o' Marse Jim Hill in Fish Dam. Dat was not fer\nfrom Goshen. Marse Jim had a purty spring dat is still all walled up wid\nfine rocks. De water come out'n dese rocks dat cold dat you can't hold\nyour hand in it fer more dan a minute at de longes'. Dar is a big flat\nrock beyond de spring dat I 'specs kivvers more dan an acre and a half\no' ground. A creek run along over dis rock, where de mules and de hosses\ncould rest in de shade of de trees and drink all de water dat de\nwanted. Wild ferns growed waist high along dar den. All kinds of purty\nflowers and daisies was gathered by de gals. Dem was de best days dat\nany darky has ever seed. Never had nothing to aggravate your mind den.\nPlenty to eat; plenty to wear; plenty wood to burn; good house to live\nin; and no worry 'bout where it was a-coming from!\n\n\"Old Marse he give us de rations fer de barbecues. Every master wanted\nhis darkies to be thought well of at de barbecues by de darkies from all\nde other plantations. De had pigs barbecued; goats; and de Missus let de\nwimmen folks bake pies, cakes and custards fer de barbecue, jes' 'zactly\nlike hit was fer de white folks barbecue deself!\n\n\"Young ones carried on like young colts a-frolicin' in de pasture till\ndey had done got so full o' vittles dat dey could not eat another bite.\nDen dey roamed on off and set down somewheres to sleep in de shade o' de\ntrees. When de sun started to going down den de old folks begin to git\nready to return back to dey home plantations, fer dar was de master's\nstock and chickens to feed and put up fer de night, to say nothing o' de\ncows to milk. The master's work had to go on around de big house, kaise\nall de darkies had been 'lowed to have such a pleasant day. Next day\nbeing Sad'day was on dis occasion not only ration day, but de day to git\nready fer de white folks' Camp Meetin' which I has already called to\nrecollection several times.\n\n\"I has to drap back to my own plantation now; kaise I guesses dat de\nsame [TN: 'same' was crossed out in the original] thing took place on all\nde neighborin' places in preparation fer de white folks 'big Meetin'.\nBut I better confine my relations to dat what I really knows. At de\nbarbecue I seed niggers from several neighborin' plantations and I can\ntell you 'bout dat. But I draps now to de doings o' my own white folks.\n\n\"As I has said once, de fields was in lay-by shape and de Missus done\nalready got de house cleaned. De chilluns was put in one room to sleep\nand dat make more room fer de preachers and guests dat gwine to visit in\nde big house fer de nex' six weeks. Den de plans fer cooking had to be\nbrung 'bout. Dey never had no ice in dem days as you well knows; but us\nhad a dry well under our big house. It was deep and everything keep real\ncool down dar. Steps led down into it, and it allus be real dark down\ndar. De rats run aroun' down dar and de younguns skeert to go down fer\nanything. So us carry a lightwood not [HW: knot] fer light when us put\nanything in it or take anything out. Dar ain't no need fer me to tell\nyou 'bout de well house where us kept all de milk and butter, fer it was\nde talk o' de country 'bout what nice fresh milk and butter de missus\nallus had. A hollow oak log was used fer de milk trough. Three times a\nday Cilla had her lil' boy run fresh cool well water all through de\ntrough. Dat keep de milk from gwine to whey and de butter fresh and\ncool. In de dry well was kept de canned things and dough to set till it\nhad done riz. When company come like dey allus did fer de camp meetings,\nshoalts and goats and maybe a sheep or lamb or two was kilt fer barbecue\nout by Cilla's cabin. Dese carcasses was kept down in de dry well over\nnight and put over de pit early de next morning after it had done took\nsalt. Den dar was a big box kivvered wid screen wire dat victuals was\nkept in in de dry well. Dese boxes was made rat proof.\n\n\"Whilst de meats fer de company table was kept barbecued out in de yard,\nde cakes, pies, breads, and t'other fixings was done in de kitchen out\nin de big house yard. Baskets had ter be packed to go to camp meetin'.\nTables was built up at Rogers under de big oak trees dat has all been\ncut down now. De tables jes' groaned and creeked and sighed wid victuals\nat dinner hour every day durin' de camp meetin'.\n\n\"Missus fetch her finest linens and silver and glasses to out-shine dem\nbrung by de t'other white folks o' quality. In dem days de white folks\no' quality in Union most all come from Goshen Hill and Fish Dam. After\nde white folks done et all dey could hold den de slaves what had done\ncome to church and to help wid de tables and de carriages would have de\ndinner on a smaller table over clost to de spring. Us had table cloths\non our table also and us et from de kitchen china and de kitchen silver.\n\n\"Young gals couldn't eat much in public, kaise it ain't stylish fer\nyoung courting gals to let on like dey has any appetite to speak of. I\nsees dat am a custom dat still goes amongst de wimmen folks, not to eat,\nso heavy. Cullud gals tried to do jes' like de young white missus would\ndo.\n\n\"After everything was done eat it would be enough to pack up and fetch\nback home to feed all de hungry niggers what roams roun' here in Union\nnow. Dem was de times when everybody had 'nuff to eat and more dan dey\nwanted and plenty clothes to wear!\n\n\"During de preaching us darkies sot in de back o' de church. Our white\nfolks had some benches dar dat didn't nobody set on 'cept de slaves. Us\nwore de best clo'es dat us had. De Marse give us a coat and a hat and\nhis sons give all de old hats and coats 'round. Us wore shirts and pants\nmade from de looms. Us kept dem clean't and ironed jes' like de Marster\nand de young marsters done their'n. Den us wore a string tie, dat de\nwhite folks done let us have, to church. Dat 'bout de onliest time dat a\ndarky was seed wid a tie. Some de oldest men even wore a cravat, dat dey\nhad done got from de old marster. Us combed our hair on Sunday fer\nchurch. But us never bothered much wid it no other time. During slavery\nsome o' de old men had short plaits o' hair.\n\n\"De gals come out in de starch dresses fer de camp meeting. Dey took dey\nhair down out'n de strings fer de meeting. In dem days all de darky\nwimmens wore dey hair in string 'cep' when dey 'tended church or a\nwedding. At de camp meetings de wimmens pulled off de head rags, 'cept\nde mammies. On dis occasion de mammies wore linen head rags fresh\nlaundered. Dey wore de best aprons wid long streamers ironed and\nstarched out a hanging down dey backs. All de other darky wimmens wore\nde black dresses and dey got hats from some dey white lady folks; jes'\nas us mens got hats from our'n. Dem wimmens dat couldn't git no hats,\nmostly wore black bonnets. De nigger gals and winches did all de\ndressing up dat dey could fer de meeting and also fer de barbecue.\n\n\"At night when de meeting dun busted till nex' day was when de darkies\nreally did have dey freedom o' spirit. As de waggin be creeping along in\nde late hours o' moonlight and de darkies would raise a tune. Den de air\nsoon be filled wid the sweetest tune as us rid on home and sung all de\nold hymns dat us loved. It was allus some big black nigger wid a deep\nbass voice like a frog dat ud start up de tune. Den de others mens jine\nin, followed up by de fine lil voices o' de gals and de cracked voices\no' de old wimmens and de grannies. When us reach near de big house us\nsoften down to a deep hum dat de missus like! Sometime she his't up de\nwindow and tell us sing 'Swing Low Sweet Cha'ot' for her and de visiting\nguests. Dat all us want to hear. Us open up and de niggers near de big\nhouse dat hadn't been to church would wake up and come out to de cabin\ndoor and jine in de refrain. From dat we'd swing on into all de old\nspirituals dat us love so well and dat us knowed how to sing. Missus\noften 'low dat her darkies could sing wid heaven's 'spiration\n(inspiration). Now and den some old mammie would fall out'n de waggin a\nshoutin' Glory and Hallelujah and Amen! After dat us went off to lay\ndown fer de night.\n\n\"Young Newt and Anderson was de boys what was near de age of me and\nJohn. Co'se dey went to school every day it was in session. Dey had dey\nown hosses and dey rid 'em to school. When dey come home dey would throw\nde reins to me and John and us took dem hosses and rub dem down and feed\n'em.\n\n\"Lots of times Newt and Anderson would tell me and John to come and git\nunder de steps while ole Marse was eating his supper. When he git up\nfrom de table us lil' niggers would allus hear de sliding o' his chair,\nkaize he was sech a big fat man. Den he go into de missus room to set by\nde fire. Dar he would warm his feets and have his Julip. Quick as\nlightning me and John scamper from under de steps and break fer de big\ncape jasamine bushes long de front walk. Dar we hide, till Anderson and\nNewt come out a fetching ham biscuit in dey hands fer us. It would be so\nfull of gravy, dat sometime de gravy would take and run plumb down to de\nend o' my elbow and drap off, 'fo I could git it licked offn my wrists.\nDem was de best rations dat a nigger ever had. When dey had honey on de\nwhite folks table, de boys never did fail to fetch a honey biscuit wid\ndem. Dat was so good dat I jest take one measley lil' bite of honey and\nmelted butter on my way to de 'quarter. I would jest taste a leetle.\nWhen I git to Mammy den me and Mammy set off to ourself's and taste it\ntill it done all gone. Us had good times den; like I never is had befo'\nor since.\n\n\"Soon atter dat dey sent me and John to de field to larn drapping. I had\nto drap peas in every other hill and John had to drap de corn in de\nrest. De overseer, ole man Wash Evans, come down dar to see how us was a\ndoing. Den us got dat skeert dat us got de corn and peas mixed up. He\nstarted to hit us wid de whip dat he had hung 'round his waist. Bout dat\ntime Marse Tom rid up. He made de overseer git out'n dem corn rows and\nlet us 'lone. After dat us got 'long fine wid our drapping. When it\ncome up everybody could see dem rows dat us had done got mixed up on\nwhen de overseer was dar. Marse Tom was dat good to his hands dat dey\nall love him all de time. But one day when ole man Evans come through de\nfield and see dem rows he did call me and John off and whip us. Dat de\nmost dat I ever got whipped. Marse got shed o' de overseer soon after\ndat.\n\n\"It was just like dis. Ole man Wash Evans was a wicked man. He take\n'vantage of all de slaves when he git half chance. He was great source\nof worriment to my Mammy, ole lady Lucy Price and 'nother 'oman, ole\nlady Lucy Charles. Course he 'vantage over all de darkies and fer dat\nreason he could sway everything his way, most all de time. But my mammy\nand ole lady Lucy was 'ligious wimmens. Dat didn't make no diffuns wid\nwicked old man Evans. One day Missus sent my mammy and de other ole lady\nLucy to fetch her some blackberries by dinner.\n\n\"Me and John was wid dem a pickin' and fillin' o' de big buckets from de\nlil' buckets when ole man Evans come riding up. He argued wid both mammy\nand ole lady Lucy and dey kept telling him dat de missus want her\nberries and dat dey was 'ligious wimmens anyhow and didn't practice no\nlife o' sin and vile wickedness. Finally he got down off'n his hoss and\npull out his whip and low if dey didn't submit to him he gwine to beat\ndem half to death. At [HW: that] me and John took to de woods. But we\npeep. My mammy and old lady Lucy start to crying and axing him not to\nwhip dem.\n\n\"Finally dey act like dey gwine to indulge in de wickedness wid dat ole\nman. But when he tuck off his whip and some other garments, my Mammy and\nole lady Lucy grab him by his goatee and further down and hist him over\nin de middle of dem blackberry bushes. Wid dat dey call me and John. Us\ngrab all de buckets and us all put out fer de 'big house' fas' as our\nlegs could carry us. Ole man Evans jest er hollering and er cussing down\nin dem briars. Quick as us git to de big house us run in de kitchen.\nCilla call Missus. She come and ax what ailing us and why we is so ashy\nlooking. Well, my Mammy and ole lady Lucy tell de whole story of dey\nhumiliations down on de creek.\n\n\"Missus 'lowed dat it didn't make no diffuns if Marse was in Union, she\ngwinter act prompt. So she sent fer Mr. Evans and he took real long to\ngit dar, but when he do come, Missus, she 'low--'Mr. Evans, us does not\nneed yo' services on dis plantation no mo', Sir!' He 'low Marse aint\nhere. Missus 'low--'I does not want to argue de point wid ye, Mr. Evans,\nfer yo' services has come to an end on dis plantation!' Wid dat ole man\nEvans go off wid his head a-hanging in shame. Us niggers went out and\ntole de news wid gladness shining out from our eyes, kaise us was dat\nglad dat we did not know what to do.\n\n\"All de fields was enclosed wid a split rail fence in dem days. De hands\ntook dey rations to de field early every morning and de wimmens slack\nwork round eleven by de sun fer to build de fire and cook dinner. Missus\n'low her niggers to git buttermilk and clabber, when de cows in full, to\ncarry to de field fer drinking at noon, dat is twelve o'clock. All de\nthings was fetched in waggins and de fire was built and a pot was put to\nbile wid greens when dey was in season. Over coals meat was baked and\nmeal in pones was wrapped in poplar leaves to bake in de ashes. 'Taters\nwas done de same way, both sweet 'taters and irish. Dat made a good\nfield hand dinner. Plenty was allud had and den 'lasses was also fetched\nalong. Working niggers does on less dese days.\n\n\"Does you know dat de poplar leaves was wet afo' de meal pone was put in\nit? Well, it was, and when it got done de ashes was blowed off wid your\nbreath and den de parched leaves folded back from de cooked pone. De\npoplar leaves give de ash cake a nice fresh sweet taste. All forks and\nspoons was made out'n sticks den; even dem in de big house kitchen.\nBread bowls and dough trays was all made by de skilled slaves in de\nMarse's shop, by hands dat was skilled to sech as dat.\n\n\"Young chilluns and babies was kept at home by de fire and nursed and\ncared fer by de ole wimmens dat couldn't do no field work. De chief one\non our plantation during my 'membrance was ole aunt Abbie. She had head\no' de chilluns all over de plantation when dey mamies was a working in\nde field. Marse Tom used to ride through de 'quarters' every day to see\nabout ole lady Abbie and de chilluns when dey parents was at work in de\nfields during de working season. Ole lady Abbie had to see to it dat dey\nwas kept warm by de fire and dat dey clothes was kept up wid while dey\nmammies was in de field. Dem chilluns on our plantation was well looked\nafter. De seamstresses also kept our work clothes patched and darned,\ntill new ones was wove fer us.\n\n\"Sides dat dem chilluns was fed. Each child had a maple fork and spoon\nto eat wid. Lil' troughs was made fer dem to eat de milk and bread from.\n'Shorts', low stools, was made fer dem to set up to de troughs to,\nwhilst dey was eating. De other ole ladies helped wid de preparations of\ndey messes o' vittals. One ole woman went her rounds wid a wet rag a\nwiping dem chilluns dresses when dey would spill dey milk and bread.\nMarse Tom and sometime Missus come to see de lil' babies whilst dey was\na eating. De other ole ladies 'tended to de small babies. Sometimes it\nwas many as fifteen on de plantation at one time dat was too little to\nwalk.\n\n\"Dey mammies was not worked on our plantation till de babies was big\n'nough to take a bottle. And in dem days no bottle was given no baby\nunder a year old. De wimmins in family way was better cared for den dese\nyoung niggers now-a-days. Marse Tom never bred no slaves but he did care\nfer his niggers when dey married and got dey own chilluns. I has done\nrelated to you how dey fixed de medicines and things. Dem babies was\nwashed every day if dey mammies was in de field, dat never made no\ndiffuns, kaise it was de old ladies' jobs to see to it dat dey was.\nYounguns on de plantation was bathed two or three times a week. Mullein\nleaves and salt was biled in great big pot to put in de babies' wash\nwater and also in de chilluns' water. Dis would keep 'em from gitting\nsick. Den dey was allus greased after de washing to keep de skin from\nbusting open. Mosely dey was greased wid tallow from de mutton. Mr.\nAnderson took medicine and after dat he doctor all de slaves fer his paw\nfree.\n\n\"While de Yankees had everything closed up down in Charleston it was\nhard to git anything in dis country into de sto's. Us allus traded at de\npost (Goshen Hill Trading Post). If I recollects correctly it was during\ndis period dat Marse Tom let my Mammy go up to de post to fetch back her\na bonnet.\n\n\"Up dar dey took cotton and corn and anything like dat in trade dat dey\ncould sell to de folks dat was working on de railroad bed dat was gwine\nthrough dat country (Seaboard Airline). So Mammy took a lot of cotton\nwid her to de post. She knowd dat it was gwine to take lots to git dat\nbonnet. It weren't but three and a half miles de short way to de post\nfrom our place.\n\n\"I's gwine long wid her and so I had to wear some pants to go to de post\nas dat was big doings fer a lil' darky boy to git to go to de trading\ncenter. So aunt Abbie fotched me a pair of new pants dat was dat stiff,\ndat dey made me feel like I was all closed up in a jacket, atter being\nused to only a shirt-tail!\n\n\"Well, it wasn't fur and us arriv' dar early in de day. Mammy said\n'howdy' to all de darkies what dar and I look at dem from behind her\nskirts. I felt real curious-like all inside. But she never give me no\nmind whatever. She never act like she knowd dat I was pulling her dress\nat all. I seed so many things dat I never had seed befo', not in all my\nborn days. Red sticks o' candy was a laying right dar fo' my eyes, jes'\nlike de folks from de big house brung us at Christmas. It was not near\nChristmas den, kaise it was jest cotton picking time and I wondered\nhow-come dey was having candy in de store fer, now-how.\n\n\"Mammy look down at me and she say to de white man wid a beard, 'Marse,\nplease sir, give me five cent worth peppermint candy.' Den when he hand\nher de bag she break off lil' piece and hand it to me, and wall her eyes\nat me and say in a low voice, 'Don' you dare git none dat red on yo'\nclean shirt, if you wants to git home widout gitting wo' plumb smack\nout.'\n\n\"Den she talk about de bonnets. Finally she git one fer ten dollars\nworth o' cotton. Money wasn't nothing in dem times. By dis time us had\ndone started on our return home and I was starting to feel more like I\nallus felt.\n\n\"Nigger, what dat you is done gone and got on dat clean shirt? Didn't\nyou hear me tell you not to git dat new shirt all red? Look dar a\nstreaming down off'n your chin at dar red. How is I gwine to ever teach\nyou anything, when you act jest like a nigger from some pore white\ntrashes poor land?'\n\n\"When we gits to dat branch now I's got to stop and wash dat dirty black\nmouth and den I can't git dat red candy off'n dat shirt. What ole lady\nAbbie gwine to say to ye when she see you done gone and act like you\nain't never seed no quality befo'?\n\n\"Atter I has done tole you all de way from home how you must act at de\npost den you goes and does like you is. Aint never gwine to carry you\nnowhars 'gin long as I lives.\n\n\"Bend dat lazy, good-fer-nothing back so as I won't git you wet all de\nway down your belly, you hear me? Now you is looking like you belongs to\nMarse Tom 'gin. Gimme dat candy right now; I gwine to see to it dat you\ngits back home looking like somet'ing after all my worriments wid ye.'\n\n\"Mammy seed dust a flying and de hoss come a-bringing Marse Tom down de\nroad. Mammy drap everything in the dust and grab her apron to drap a\ncurtsy. She 'low--'Git dat hat off dat head and bow your head fo' he git\nhear.\"\n\n\"Howdy, Lucy, what is you and dat youngun been, anyhow?' 'Us been to git\nme a bonnet, Marse Tom, and it took all de ten dollars worth of cotton\nto fetch it back wid.' 'Yes, Lucy, money does not go far these days,\nsince the Yankees got everything'. 'No Sir, No Sir, Marse,' and he rid\non, leaving us behind in de dust.\"\n\n  =Source:= Interview with Gus Feaster (C-97), ex-slave,\n                 living at 20 Stutz Ave., Union, S.C.; interviewer - Caldwell Sims,\n                 Union, South Carolina.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Phoebe Faucette\n  Hampton County\n\n  Approx. 388 words\n\n  ANN FERGUSON EX-SLAVE 74 YEARS\n\n\n\"Aunt Annie\" sat in the sun of a fall afternoon on the steps of her\nhouse across from the Baptist Church at Estill, S.C. Her short, stout\nform and her kind, deeply wrinkled face beneath her white cap, were, as\nalways, a pleasingly familiar sight.\n\n\"I'se sure you'se come, Missus. I'se been jes' asittin' here awaitin'\nfor somebody to come. I'm gittin' on in years now. Been right here for\nfourteen years. I was sick last night. Suffers wid high blood, yes'm.\n\n\"Could I tell you 'bout de times before de war? Well ma'am, I was jes' a\nbaby den; so I cain't to say know 'bout it for meself, but I knows what\nme mother told me 'bout it.\n\n\"My mother was at Old Allendale when de Yankees come through. She was in\nde kitchen at de time. I was quite small. 'Round two years old--now how\nold dat make me, Miss? 74? Well, I knows I is gittin' 'long. I remember\ndem talkin' 'bout it all. Dey searched de house, and take out what dey\nwant, den set de house afire. Ma, she run out den an' whoop an' holler.\nDe lady of de house wuz dere, but de Massa had went off. De place wuz\ndat of Dr. Bucknor. My mother been belong to de Bucknors. After dat, dey\nmoved to de old home place of de Bucknors down here at Robertville. Dey\nhad two places. Dey jes' had to start farming all over again. We lived\ndere a good bit after freedom, ma say. My mother stay wid 'em for about\nthree years after freedom.\n\n\"Fore freedom my mother used to go to de white folks church--white and\nblack used to worship together den. She jined at de old Cypress Creek\nBaptist Church at Robertville. A white preacher baptized her dere. De\nold church is dere at Robertville now. After freedom de colored folks\nhad dey own churches.\n\n\"Dey tell me dat in slav'ry time, some of de overseers treat 'em mighty\nmean. Some of 'em work 'em in de day, 'en in de night, weaving. Now some\nof 'em treat 'em good; but some of 'em treat 'em mean. Dey have to run\naway into de bay.\n\n\"Do I know of anybody what sees ghosts? Yes'm, dere's a lady over dere\nwhat say she always see a ghost come and whip a woman dat asittin' on de\nsteps. Sometime she say she goin' to report it to de police, but I ain't\nnever seen none, 'ceptin' in my dreams.\n\n\"I sure is glad you come, Missus. I been jes' awaitin' for somebody.\"\n\n  =Source:= Ann Ferguson, ex-slave 74 years, Estill, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project, 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, September 21, 1937\n\n  AARON-FORD,\n  EX-SLAVE\n\n\n\"I was born bout two miles bove Lake View on Zonia Rogers place. Boys\nused to tell me I was born on Buck Branch. Think I was born de 12th. day\nof February cause I was bout 16 years old when freedom come. Another\nperson born de same day en de same year en I might look on dey tombstone\nen get de date.\"\n\n\"Miles Ford was my father en my mother, Jennie Ford, but dey didn' live\non de same place. Father belonged to Alias Ford at Lake View en mother\ncome from Timmonsville what used to be called Sparrow Swamp. Railroad\nrun through dere change name from Sparrow Swamp to Timmonsville.\"\n\n\"Just like I tell you, Zonia Rogers was my boss en he wasn' so bad. He\nwhip me a few times when I did things dat I oughtened to do. Sometimes I\nwas pesty en he whip me wid a switch, but he never whip so hard. I tell\nde truth, Zonia Rogers was a good man. Give his slaves good pole houses\nto live in up in de quarter. Never had but five slaves to start wid en\ndat de reason he just had two slave house in de quarter. Sometimes dey\nslept on de floor en den another time, some had homemade bedstead wid de\nframework made out of black gum.\"\n\n\"We had meat en corn bread to eat all de time en dey gave us fried meat\nen rye bread en flour bread to eat every now en den. Made rye bread in\ntime of de war, but didn' get much flour bread to eat. Massa would weigh\nmeat out on his hand. If anybody wanted meat, he hand it to dem on his\nhand en say, 'Here it is.' Den some of de slaves had gardens dat dey\nwork at 12 o'clock en at night. Never was much to catch possums, but was\ngreat hand to catch rabbits. Boss had dog name Trip dat he wouldn' have\ntaken $200.00 for. If I had him now, I wouldn' take $200.00 for him\nneither cause dat dog would stay at a tree all night. See him stay dere\nfrom early in de day till dark.\"\n\n\"Slaves wore one piece garment in de summer en used thick woolen garment\nin de winter. When I got large, had wrapper en little breeches to wear.\nSometimes de clothes was all wool en sometimes dey was just half wool.\nYes, sir, I know all bout how de cloth was made in dat day en time.\nThree treadle made dis here jeanes cloth dat was for de nigger clothes\nen white people wore four treadle cloth. Had Sunday clothes in slavery\ntime, too, en made de shoes right dere home. Tanned de leather en made\nshoes called nigger brogans dat dey used in de turpentine woods. Dese\nhere low quarters. I married in 1873. Just had common clothes when I was\nmarried.\"\n\n\"I remember my grandfather all right. He de one told me how to catch\notters. Told me how to set traps. Heard my grandfather tell bout whippin\nslaves for stealin. Grandfather told me not to take things dat were not\nmine. If a pile of corn was left at night, I was told not to bother it.\nIn breakin corn, sometimes people would make a pile of corn in de grass\nen leave it en den come back en get it in de night. Grandfather told me\nnot to never bother nothin bout people's things.\"\n\n\"De first work dat I remember bout doin in slavery time, I hold mules\nfor my boss. Drove wagon for Mr. Rogers. If people wanted any haulin\ndone, he told me to help dem en collect for it. He never wouldn' ax any\nquestions bout what I collected for de haulin. Just let me have dat\nmoney. I remember I bought cloth dat cost 12-1/2 cents a yard wid de\nfirst money I get. Den I bought a girl 10 cents worth of candy en sent\nit to her. Hear she stamped it in de ground wid her foot. Girl never\neven mentioned it to me en I ain' never bothered wid her again. Dis girl\nen me bout de same age.\"\n\n\"Don' remember much bout my first Missus only dat she had a bump on her\nneck. Second Missus was good to me en just like I tell you, Zonia Rogers\nwas a good man. He hired white men to plow, but he never put nobody\nahead of me no time. I take dogs en slip out in de woods en hunt\nrabbits. White man tell on me en my boss ain' never said nothin bout dis\nto me yet. Never had no overseer en no driver whe' I stay.\"\n\n\"Oh, dere was bout two or three hundred acres in de Rogers place. Slaves\nworked from daylight till dark in de winter time. Always be up fore day\ncause my boss generally called de slaves fore day. Hear him say, 'Rob,\ncome, come. Aaron, come, come.' We didn' work hard though. Didn' work in\nhot sun in June, July en August cause in slavery time dey allow us to\ntake out at 10 or 11 o'clock en go swimmin. Den we had to be back in de\nfield bout three o'clock. Had plenty poor white neighbors bout dere en\nboss hire me to man like dat one time. Poor man give bout 1-1/2 hours\nfor noon whe' I get two hours back home en I never go back de next day.\nBoss say, 'Why don' you go back to work?' I tell him dat fellow wouldn'\ngive me long enough time for noon. My boss wouldn' force me to go back\nwhen I tell him dat.\"\n\n\"I see one or two slaves whipped in slavery time, but I didn' see\nanybody whipped bad. If a slave on one place was accused of takin a\nthing on another place, dey have a trial bout it. Justice might tell dem\nhow many licks to give him en point man to do it. I hear dat some been\nwhipped way off till dey died, but old man Everett Nichols wouldn' never\nwhip his slaves. He had son dat whipped some rough darkies dat he got\noff another place cause old man Nichols wouldn' want strange darkies to\nmarry girls on his place. I hear way up de country dat dey whipped dem\ntill dey died right dere.\"\n\n\"Dey had jails in slavery time at Marion for de slaves. If dey caught\nslaves dat had run away, dey would put dem in jail till dey Massa sent\nafter dem. Sometimes dey would hold dem en sell dem for debt. Dey tell\nme some put on stand en sold dere at Marion, but I never saw any sold.\nJust hear bout dat, but I remembers I saw dis. Saw six men tied together\nwid a chain one Saturday evenin dat was comin from Virginia en gwine to\nTexas.\"\n\n\"Some people helped de slaves to read en write en some of dem didn'. Boy\nlearnt one of my uncles to read, but didn' want him to write. People\nlearn to spell in dem times better den dey do now. Some of de slaves\ncould read de Bible en den others of dem could write dese pass dat dey\nhad to get from dey Massa fore dey could go from one plantation to\nanother. I recollects my mother's father could write a pass.\"\n\n\"Dere wasn' no church on de plantation whe' I stay. Had preachin in Mr.\nFord's yard sometimes en den another time de slaves went to white\npeople's church at Bear Swamp. Boss tell slaves to go to meetin cause he\nsay he pay de preacher. Dean Ears, white man, gave out speech to de\nslaves one day dere to Nichols. Slaves sat in gallery when dey go dere.\nHe tell dem to obey dey Massa en Missus. Den he say, 'God got a clean\nkitchen to put you in. You think you gwine be free, but you ain' gwine\nbe free long as dere an ash in Ashpole Swamp.' White folks complain bout\nde slaves gettin two sermons en dey get one. After dat, dey tell old\nslaves not to come to church till after de white folks had left. Dat\nnever happen till after de war was over.\"\n\n\"I sho remember when freedom come here. Remember when my boss told me I\nwas free. My father come dere en say he wanted his boys. Boss called,\n'Aaron, come here, your daddy wants you. I want you to go.' He told me\nnot to go till de news came though. Please me, I felt like a new man.\"\n\n\"I hate to speak what I think bout slavery. Think it a pity de slaves\nfreed cause I know I'm worried more now den in slavery time. Dere got to\nbe a change made. People got to turn. I belong to de Methodist Church en\nI think everybody ought to belong to de church. God built de church for\nde people en dey ought to go dere en be up en doin in de church. Dat dey\nduty.\"\n\n  =Source:= Aaron Ford, Ex-Slave, Age 80-90, (No other information\n                 given by interviewer.)\n\n                 Personal interview by H. Grady Davis, June, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885 -1-\n  District #4\n  Spartanburg, S.C.\n  May 28, 1937\n\n  FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES\n\nSix miles east of Spartanburg on R.F.D. No. 2, the writer found Aunt\nCharlotte Foster, a colored woman who said she was 98 years old. Her\nmother was Mary Johnson and her father's name was John Johnson. She is\nliving with her oldest daughter, whose husband is John Montgomery.\n\nShe stated she knew all about slavery times, that she and her mother\nbelonged to William Beavers who had a plantation right on the main road\nfrom Spartanburg to Union, that the farm was near Big Brown Creek, but\nshe didn't know what larger stream the creek flowed into. Her father\nlived on another place somewhere near Limestone. She and her mother were\nhands on the farm and did all kinds of hard work. She used to plow, hoe,\ndig and do anything the men did on the plantation. \"I worked in the hot\nsun.\" Every now and then she would get a sick headache and tell her\nmaster she had it; then he would tell her to go sit down awhile and rest\nuntil it got better.\n\nShe had a good master; he was a Christian if there ever was one. He had\na wife that was fussy and mean. \"I didn't call her Mistus, I called her\nMinnie.\" But, she quickly added, \"Master was good to her, just as kind\nand gentle like.\" When asked what was the matter with the wife, she just\nshook her head and did not reply. Asked if she had rather live now or\nduring slavery times, she replied that if her master was living she\nwould be willing to go back and live with him. \"Every Sunday he would\ncall us chilluns by name, would sit down and read the Bible to us; then\nhe would pray. If that man ain't in the Kingdom, then nobody's there.\"\n\nShe said her master never whipped any of the slaves, but she had heard\ncries and groans coming from other plantations at five o'clock in the\nmorning where the slaves were being beaten and whipped. Asked why the\nslaves were being beaten, she replied rather vehemently, \"Just because\nthey wanted to beat 'em; they could do it, and they did.\" She said she\nhad seen the blood running down the backs of some slaves after they had\nbeen beaten.\n\nOne day a girl about 16 years of age came to her house and said she'd\njust as leave be dead as to take the beatings her master gave her, so\none day she did go into the woods and eat some poison oak. \"She died,\ntoo.\"\n\nOn one plantation she saw an old woman who used to get so many beatings\nthat they put a frame work around her body and ran it up into a kind of\nsteeple and placed a bell in the steeple. \"Dat woman had to go around\nwith that bell ringing all the time.\"\n\n\"I got plenty to eat in dem days, got just what the white folks ate. One\nday Master killed a deer, brung it in the house, and gave me some of the\nmeat. There was plenty of deer den, plenty of wild turkeys, and wild\nhogs. Master told me whenever I seed a deer to holler and he would kill\nit.\"\n\nWhen slaves were freed her mother moved right away to her father's\nplace, but she said the two sons of her master would not give her mother\nanything to eat then. \"Master was willing, but dem boys would not give\nus anything to live on, not even a little meal.\"\n\n\"After the Civil War was over and the Yankee soldiers came to our place,\ndey just took what they wanted to eat, went into de stable and leave\ntheir poor, broken-down horses and would ride off with a good horse.\nThey didn't hurt anybody, but just stole all they wanted.\"\n\nOne day she said her master pointed out Abe Lincoln to her. A long line\nof cavalry rode down the road and presently there came Abe Lincoln\nriding a horse, right behind them. She didn't have much to say about\nJeff Davis, except she heard the grown people talking about him. \"Booker\nWashington? Well, he was all right trying to help the colored people and\neducate them. But he strutted around and didn't do much. People ought to\nlearn to read the Bible, but if you educate people too high it make a\nfool out of them. They won't work when they gets an education, just\nlearns how to get out of work, learns how to steal enough to keep alive.\nThey are not taught how to work, how do you expect them to work when\nthey ain't taught to work? Well, I guess I would steal too before I\nstarved to death, but I ain't had to steal yet. No man can say he ever\ngave me a dollar but what I didn't earn myself. I was taught to work and\nI taught my chilluns to work, but this present crowd of niggers! They\nwon't do.\"\n\nShe stated her mother had twelve children and the log house they lived\nin was weatherboarded; it was much warmer in such a house during cold\nweather than the houses are now. \"Every crack was chinked up with mud\nand we had lots of wood.\" Her mother made all their beds, and had four\ndouble beds sitting in the room. She made the ticking first and placed\nthe straw in the mattresses. \"They beat the beds you can get now. These\nmen make half beds, den sell 'em to you, but dey ain't no good. Dey\ndon't know how to make 'em.\"\n\nAunt Charlotte said she remembered when the stars fell. \"That was\nsomething awful to see. Dey just fell in every direction. Master said to\nwake the chilluns up and let 'em see it. Everybody thought the world was\ncoming to an end. We went out on de front porch to look at the sight;\nwe'd get scared and go back into de house, den come out again to see the\nsight. It was something awful, but I sure saw it.\" (Records show that\nthe great falling of stars happened in the year 1833, so Aunt Charlotte\nmust be older than she claims, if she saw this eventful sight. Yet she\nwas positive she had seen the stars falling all over the heavens. She\nmade a sweep of her arm from high to low to illustrate how they fell.)\n\n\n  =Source:= Aunt Charlotte Foster, RFD #2, Spartanburg, S.C.\n  Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  Stiles M. Scruggs\n  Columbia, S.C.\n\n  JOHN FRANKLIN\n  EX-SLAVE 84 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"I is the son of John Franklin and Susan Bobo Franklin. I was born\nAugust 10th, 1853 in Spartanburg County. My daddy was a slave on the\nplantation of Marster Henry Franklin, sometimes called Hill and my mammy\nwas a slave on the plantation of Marster Benjamin Bobo. They was\nbrother-in-law's and lived on a plantation joining each other.\n\n\"My white marsters and their mistresses was good to us and to all their\nslaves. We have plenty to eat and wear, on the Bobo plantation, from the\ntime I can remember up to the time I was 'bout eleven years old. In\n1861, my marsters go away with their neighbors, to fight the damn\nYankees and the plantation was left in charge of the mistresses and\nworked by the slaves. The slaves all raised 'bundance of rations, but\npretty soon there was a scarcity 'cause they was no coffee at the store\nand stragglin' Yankees or what they call 'Rebel soldiers' come 'long\nevery few days and take all they can carry.\n\n\"That shortage begun in 1862, and it kept on gettin' worse all the time,\nand when Lincoln set all niggers free, there was such a shortage of food\nand clothes at our white folks houses, that we decided to move to a\nDutch Fork plantation. My daddy go 'long with other niggers to fight for\n'Uncle Abe' and we never see him no more. Soon after that me and mammy\ntold our mistress goodbye, and move down to her daddy's place, 'bout ten\nmiles from Chapin. I was ten years old that year and we raise corn,\nbeans, 'taters and chickens for ourselves and to sell, when we could go\nto Columbia and sell it and buy coffee and other things that we could\nnot raise at home. So we do pretty well for a year or two and we keep\nup our tradin' trips to Columbia, which 'counts for me and Ben Lyles, my\ncousin 'bout my age, comin' to Columbia on February 16, 1868. We sold\nout and stayed all night at the home of Ben's uncle. He had us do some\ntasks 'bout his home on Lincoln Street the next day and it was way in\nthe day befo' we start home. We walk north on what was known then as the\nWinnsboro road 'til we come to Broad River road, and we take it. There\nwas one or two farm houses north of Elmwood Street on the Winnsboro road\nat that time and only one house on Broad River road, the farm house of\nMr. Coogler, which is still standin'. There was a big woodsland at the\nforks of the Winnsboro road and Broad River road.\n\n\"After we walk 'long the Broad River road, what seem to us for a quarter\nof a mile, we see four or five old men standin' on the left side of the\nroad wavin' a white flag. We walks out in the woods on the right side\nopposite and watches. Soon we see what seem lak a thousand men on hosses\ncomin' briskly 'long. The men keep wavin' the white flag. After many had\npassed, one big bearded man rein up his hoss and speak with the men\nwavin' the white flag. They tell the soldier there am no 'Rebel soldier'\nin Columbia and the blue-clad army am welcome; beggin' them to treat the\nold folks, women and children, well. The Yankee soldier set straight and\nsolemn on his hoss, and when the old men finish and hand him a paper, he\nsalute and tell them, 'Your message will be laid befo' General Sherman'.\n\n\"All this time the ground am shakin' from the roar of big guns 'cross\nthe river. Ben and me run thru the woods to our footlog and see\nthousands still comin' into Columbia, all 'long. We get 'fraid and\nstayed in the woods 'til we get out of sight of the soldiers. But we\nain't got far over the top of the hill 'til we come face to face with\nmore men on hosses. One of the men, who seem to be the leader, stop his\nhoss and ask us boys some questions. We answer as best we can, when he\ngrin at us and pull out some money and give us a nickel a piece.\n\n\"We travel on toward Chapin and meet our mammies and many other people,\nsome them white. They all seem scared and my mammy and Ben's mammy and\nus, turns up the river and camps on the hill, for the night, in the\nwoods. We never sleep much, for it was 'most as light as day, and the\nsmell of smoke was terrible. We could see people runnin' in certain\nparts of Columbia, sometimes. Next mornin' we look over the city from\nthe bluff and only a few houses was standin' and hundreds of tumble-down\nchimneys and the whole town was still smokin'.\n\n\"I dreams yet 'bout that awful time, but I thank God that he has\npermitted me to live 'long enough to see the city rebuilt and it\nstretching far over the area where we hid in the trees.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Cassels R. Tiedeman\n  Charleston, S.C.\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  EMMA FRASER--EX-SLAVE\n\n\nEmma Fraser, a pathetic old character, probably on account of many\nhardships, and the lack of family to care for her properly, shows the\nwear and tear of years. She was born, in slavery, on a plantation near\nBeaufort, of a mother whom she scarcely remembers, and cannot recall the\nname of the plantation, nor the name of her mother's owner. She talks\nvery little but is most emphatic about the time of her birth. \"I born in\nrebel time, on de plantation down by Beaufort. My ma say I a leetle gal\nwhen dey shoot de big gun on Fort Sumter. All dem people done dead an'\ngone now. I aint know dey name any mo'. Wid de troublulation and\nbombation I hab to tend wid an' de brain all wore down, you aint blame\nme for not know.\n\n\"I wants to go to Hebben now an' when de roll is call up dere an' I be\ndere, de Lord, he find a hiding place for me. I goes to chu'ch when I\nkin an' sing too, but ef I sing an' it doan mobe (move) me any, den dat\na sin on de Holy Ghost; I be tell a lie on de Lord. No I aint sing when\nit doan mobe me. You mus'n ax me to do dat.\n\n\"One day I see a big automobile on de street wid a old gemmun (gentleman)\nob slavery time settin' in em. I goes up to em an' ax how old he t'ink I\nis, an' he say dat I come way, way back dere in de slavery day, an' he\nknow what he say.\"\n\n  =Source:= Interview with the writer\n\n          Emma Fraser, 98 Coming St, Charleston, S.C.\n          Approx. 80 years old.\n\n\n\n\n  S-260-264-N\n  Hattie Mobley\n  Project 935\n  Richland County\n\n  ADELE FROST\n\n  EX-SLAVE 93 YEARS OF AGE\n\n\n\"I was bo'n in Adams Run, South Carolina, January 21st. 1844. My father\nname was Robert King, an' my mother was Minder King. My father was bo'n\nin Adams Run but my mother came from Spring Grove, South Carolina. I had\neight brothers an' sisters, Maria, Lovie, Josephine, Eliza, Victoria,\nCharlie an' Robert King. The other two died w'en dey was babies. Only\nthree of us is alive now. Maria, who lives in Adams Run is 95 years old.\nI was brought heh at the age of twelve to be maid for Mr. Mitchell, from\nwho' I didn't git any money but a place to stay an' a plenty of food an'\nclothes. My bed was the ole time four post' with pavilion hangin' over\nthe top.\n\n\"I's use to wear thin clothes in hot weather an' warm comfortable ones\nin the winter. On Sunday I wear a ole time bonnet, a'm hole apron, shoes\nan' stockin'. My Master was kind to his slaves an' his overseer was all\nNegroes. He had a large fa'm at Parkers' Ferry. He worked his slaves\n'til twelve in the day an' the res' of the day they could do their own\nwork.\n\n\"I never gone to school in my life an' massa nor missus ever help me to\nread.\n\n\"On the plantation was a meetin' house in which wen' used to have\nmeetin's every Chuseday night, Wednesday night, an' Thursday night. I\nuse to attend the white church. Doctor Jerico was de pastor. Collud\npeople had no preacher but dey had leader. Every slave go to church on\nSunday 'cause dey didn't have any work to do for Massa. My grandma use\nto teach the catekism an' how to sing.\n\n\"Co'n shuckin' was always done in de night. Dere was also a dance. Es de\ndistance was five miles we would walk dere, work an' dance all night an'\ncome back early nex' mornin'.\n\n\"Fun'rals was at night an' w'en ready to go to the graveyard every body\nwould light a lightud knot as torch while every body sing. This is one\nof the songs wen' use to sing,\n\n  'Goin' to carry dis body\n  To the grave-yard,\n  Grave-yard don' you know me?\n  To lay dis body down.'\n\n\"These are some the games wen' use to play,\n\n  Have a han'ful of co'n den say,\n  \"Trow kissey Wilson let him go.\"\n\nwhile the res' is to guess how many co'n is lef in his han's.\n\nWe ain't had no doctor, our Missus an' one of de slave' would 'tend to\nthe sick.\n\nThe Yankees take t'ree nights to march through I was afraid of dem an'\nclim' into a tree. One call me down an' say, \"I am your frien'\". He give\nme a piece of money an' I wasn't 'fraid no mo.\n\nAfter de war I still work' as a maid for Mr. Mitchell.\n\nMy husband was Dan'l Frost. We didn't have no weddin', jus' married at\nde jedge office. We had three chillun.\n\nI joined the church 'cause I wanted to be a christian an' I think every\nbody should be. I move here wid my gran' daughter, bout ten year ago.\n\n  Reference: Interview with (Mrs) Adele Frost who is supported by her\n  Master's people.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Martha S. Pinckney\n  Charleston, S.C.\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  AMOS GADSDEN\n\n\n\"My name is Amos Gadsden, not Gadson, like some call it--the same old\nname Gadsden\"--he added, with a friendly smile.\n\n\"I was born at St. Philip's Street; that is where old Miss lived then.\n(We belonged to old Mr. Titus Bissell) I don't rightly know what year,\nbut I was nineteen years old before the War, when the family Bible was\nlost; old Mistress had my birth written in the Bible. I keep my age by\nMas. Henry, he died three years ago; he was 83, and I was five years\nolder than he was, so I am 88. Oh, yes, I can remember slavery! My\ngrandmother was a 'daily gift' to old Mistress when they were both\nchildren. Grandmother was nurse to the children; she lived over a\nhundred years and nursed all the children and grandchildren. She died at\nthe Bissell's home on Rutledge Avenue years and years after slavery.\nMother Ellen was laundress; she died first part of the War. My father\ntended the yard and was coachman.\n\n\"I never got a slap from my mistress; I was treated like a white person;\nif my mistress talked to me to correct me, I want to cry. Sometime I\nslept at the foot of my mistress bed.\" Whatever the occasion, Amos was\nvery proud of it, and mentioned it a second time in his story, and\nadded--\"it ain't every little boy that could say that.\n\n\"We spent the summers in Charleston--winters on the plantation; Cypress\nPlantation which belonged to Mr. Bissell's father, Mr. Baker, was near\nGreen Pond. The smoke house was there full of meat; the fields and the\ngardens were there and everybody had plenty to eat--but still there was\nbad people just like they are now. You can make yourself respectable,\nbut some never do it. The bad ones had to be punished; they got a few\nlashes on 'um. Now they go to Court, and they go to jail--If there was a\nplace to whip bad coons, they would be scared to behave like they do\nnow--the jails wouldn't be so full. There was no bad treatment of our\npeople. Some neighbors that never owned any slaves, hired negro help and\nill-treated them--old mistress felt so bad about this.\n\n\"I grew up with the white children in the family, but I was trained to\nstep aside at all times for white people. My grandmother's name was Affy\nCalvert; she was a 'daily gift' to old Mistress; she was given to her\nwhen they were both children and trained up in her service. Old Mistress\ndied long before her because she lived over a hundred years, and nursed\nall the children and grandchildren. She brought me up more than my\nmother; she and I never gave up the family.\"\n\nAmos makes a strange statement: \"Old Mausa, Mr. T.L. Bissell, (voice\nlowered) was a =Yankee=, but he lived long before the War,\" with an\nindulgent smile, and in a lower voice, with his hand up to his mouth he\ncontinued as though communicating a dangerous confidence, \"Oh, yes,\nMa'am--but he was a =Yankee=!\" What Amos meant will remain a family\nsecret.\n\n\"I was trained by old Tony for yard boy before the War. I looked out\nthat no harm came to the older children, but one day they got away from\nme,\" Amos chuckled, \"they went to play on the logs in the lumber yard,\naround what is now Halsey's Mill. The water was full of timber, open to\nthe river, (Ashley) and the tide was running out. One of the boys got on\na log, and two others on another log, and the little scamps paddled the\nlogs out, but when they found themselves in the tide they were scared,\nand screamed at the top of their voices. I wasn't far off and heard\nthem. I was scared too. I jumped into the water and swam to get a\nbateau; when they saw me they hushed. The tide had carried them some\ndistance before I caught up with them--was down near Chisolm's Rice\nMill. Mr. Chisolm saw it; he gave me a five dollar bill, Confederate\nmoney, for saving the children.\"\n\nAmos throws a new light on old history;--\"Before the War come here it\nwas down in Beaufort, on the Port Royal Road; Confederates on one side,\nYankees on the other, and things happen here that belong to War. One\nevening, early dusk, because it was winter, I was with two white boys on\nthe corner of Hasell street and East Bay. We stopped to watch a balloon\nslowly floating in the sky. I never saw anything like it before--it\nlooked so pretty--and while we were looking a streak of fire came\nstraight down from the balloon to Russell's Planing Mill at the foot of\nHasell street,[1] right by us. In a short time the mill was on fire;\nnothing could put it out. One place after another caught, and big flakes\nof fire were bursting up and flying through the air, and falling on\nother buildings. (illustrating with his arms, hands, and whole body) The\nfirst church that burned was the Circular Church on Meeting Street; then\nBroad street and the Roman Catholic Church, and St. Andrews Hall. Yes,\nMa'am, 'course I remember St. Andrews Hall, right next to the Roman\nCatholic Cathedral on Broad Street! That was 1861, before I went to\nVirginia with Dr. H. E. Bissel. That balloon went on down to Beaufort, I\ns'pose. Yes Ma'am, =I saw it= drop that fire on Russell's Mill.\n\n\"I went to Virginia with Dr. H.E. Bissell in the Army; he was a surgeon.\nA camp of Negroes went ahead to prepare the roads; pioneers, they called\nthem. I remember Capt. Colcock, (he mentioned several other officers,)\nHoney Hill--terrible fighting--fight and fight! had to 'platoon' it. I\nwas behind the fighting with Dr. Bissell. I held arms and legs while he\ncut them off, till after a while I didn't mind it. Hard times came to\nthe Army; only corn to eat. When the bombardment came to Charleston the\nfamily moved to Greenville; I was in Virginia with the Doctor. The\nrailroad bridge across the Ashley River was burned to prevent the\nYankees from coming into Charleston; the ferry boat 'Fannie' crossed the\nriver to make connections with the Savannah Railroad. The 54th\nMassachusetts Regiment was coming down to Charleston; they destroyed\nrailroads as they came. Sherman set fire everywhere he went--didn't do\nmuch fighting, just wanted to destroy as he went.\n\n\"After Freedom, we went back to the Plantation; lived catch as catch\ncan. The smoke house had been emptied by the Yankees, and no money.\nLieutenant Duffy, at the Citadel, fell in love with me and offered me a\nplace to work with him for money. I took it and worked for him til he\nleft--but I didn't give up the family. I work for Mas. Titus now;\nhaven't stopped calling Mr. Orvel Bissell 'Mas' today; I raised him but\nI still call him Mas. Orvel. My young Missus was the one who taught me;\nshe kept a school for us; we took it for a play school; when I was a\nlittle boy I knew the alphabet.\n\n\"We buried our valuables in sacks in holes, then put plants over the\nhiding places. The silver was buried by Cypress Pond; and we saved all\nburied valuables.\n\n\"To show how Mas. Titus (Bissell) will look out for me--a man I rented\nfrom wanted to put some 'coon' in my room. I had paid him the rent, but\none day I came and find my things being put out. I went right to Mas.\nTitus and told him. He was mad, and, excusing the words, he said, 'do\nyou mean that damned so-and-so is putting your things out, well, we'll\ngo there'--so we went, and the man was so scared he wanted to put the\nthings back but Mas. Titus said: 'He sha'nt bother with any such damned\nperson as you are. I'll find a proper place for him,' and he found me a\ngood room on Short Street where I stayed for 8 years until the house was\nsold--that make I move on Elliott street where I am now.\n\n\"My wife is long dead, and I have no children--this is my niece; my\nbrother's daughter. He went from this State three years ago and we have\nnever heard a word from him since. I take care of her. Does she do right\nby me? She got to! I make her!\"\n\n    =Source:= Amos Gadsden, 88, 20 Elliott Street, Charleston, S.C.\n\n    [Footnote 1: King, William L. in \"The Newspaper Press of Charleston,\n    S.C.\" Lucas and Richardson (Book Press) 1882--200p--pp-120-121.\n    Charleston Library Society.\n\n    Confirms the statement that the fire of 1861 started in the\n    Russell's Planing Mill, though no mention is made of its origin.]\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1886 -1-\n  District #4\n  Spartanburg, S.C.\n  From Field Notes\n  Folk-Lore\n  May 26, 1937\n\n  FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES:\n\n\nJourneying on Cudd Street this morning and stopping at the \"Old Ladies'\nHome\" (an institution for negroes), the writer found two ex-slaves\nsitting on the porch passing the time of day with those who passed the\nhouse. They both spoke very respectfully and asked me to come in.\n\nOne was seated and she asked me to have a seat by her. Her name was\nJanie Gallman and she said she was 84 years of age. Upon my telling her\nmy name she stated she knew my father and grandfather and had worked for\nthem in days gone by. \"If your father or Mr. Floyd was living I wouldn't\nwant for a thing\".\n\nShe was born in slavery on the plantation of Bill Keenan in Union\nCounty. The place was situated between Pacolet River and Fairforest\nCreek and near where Governor Gist had a plantation. Her mother and\nfather were both owned by Bill Keenan and he was a good master. She\nnever saw any of the slaves get a whipping and never saw any slave in\nchains. When she, her father, and mother were set free, she said, \"My\nmaster gave my father a barrel of meal, a cow and a calf and a wagon of\ncorn when he sot him free. He gave every one of his slaves the same. He\nhad a big plantation, but I don't know how many acres of land there was,\nbut it was a big place.\"\n\nShe was married three times and her mother had 12 children, but she has\nnever had any.\n\nHer young life was spent in playing with the children of the white\noverseer. They used to jump rope most of the time. Whenever the overseer\nleft home to spend the night anywhere, his wife would send for her to\nspend the night with the family. The overseer was \"poor white trash\".\nShe had plenty to eat in slavery days. Her father and mother had their\nown garden, and she did her share of eating the vegetables out of the\ngarden. She remembered seeing plenty of wild turkeys as a child, but as\nfor hogs and cattle, she did not remember them running wild. She had\nheard of conjuring, but she did not know how it was done--never saw\nanybody who had been conjured--yet she had seen ghosts two or three\ntimes. One night she saw a light waving up against a piece of furniture,\nthen come towards her, then flicker about the room, but she wasn't able\nto see anybody holding the light. She had heard of headless men walking\naround, yet had never seen any.\n\nA neighbor told her a woman ghost came to her house one night, just sat\non the front steps and said nothing, repeated her visits several nights\nin succession, but said no word as she sat on the front step. One night\nthe neighbor's husband asked the ghost what did she want, why she sat on\nthe steps and said nothing. The ghost then spoke and told him to follow\nher. He followed her and she led him to the basement of the house and\ntold him to dig in the corner. He did and pretty soon he unearthed a\njar of money. The woman ghost told him to take just a certain amount and\nto give the rest to a certain person. The ghost told the man if he\ndidn't give the money to the person she named, she would come back and\ntear him apart. He very obediently took the small amount of the money\nand gave the balance where the ghost directed, and he never saw the\nwoman sitting on his steps any more.\n\nAnother time she heard footsteps approaching a certain house in the\nyard, but she could never see anybody walking, though she could\ndistinctly hear the gravel crunching as the ghost walked along. \"God is\nthe only one who can do any conjuring. I don't believe anybody else\ncan.\"\n\n  =Source:= Aunt Janie Gallman, 391 Cudd St, Spartanburg, S.C.\n          Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885 -1-\n  Spartanburg, S.C.\n  May 31, 1937\n  District #4\n\n  Edited by:\n  Martha Ritter\n\n  FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in Edgefield County, S.C. (now called Saluda County) in\n1857. My father and mother was Bill and Mary Kinard who was slaves of\nJohn Kinard. The year I was born, I allus heard say, there was a big\nfire near Columbia, S. C. It started in the woods near the river, spread\nover all parts there and the people, womens with new-born infants, had\nto leave in a hurry, going back from the fire and crossing the river, to\nEdgefield County. I 'member there was a big fire in Prosperity back in\nabout 1875.\n\n\"I was a girl in slavery, worked in the fields from the time I could\nwork at all, and was whipped if I didn't work. I worked hard. I was born\non John Bedenbaugh's place; I was put up on the block and sold when a\ngirl, but I cried and held tight to my mistress's dress, who felt sorry\nfor me and took me back with her. She was Mrs. Sarah Bedenbaugh, as fine\na woman as ever lived.\n\n\"Marse Bedenbaugh had a 5-horse farm, and about 20 slaves. We didn't\nhave time to teach them to read and write; never went to church--never\nwent to any school. After the war some started a nigger school and a\nbrush-arbor church for niggers.\n\n\"When the Yankees went through their soldiers stole everthing, all\nhorses and supplies. The soldiers stopped at places, and like the\nsoldiers who come home foot-sore, they was lousy and dirty. Our soldiers\ncome with canteen shoes [TN: 'and' was crossed out in the original] and\nold blankets swung on their backs and shoulders. The people would send\nwagons out to meet them and bring them in, some of them could hardly\nwalk. The Yankee soldiers would take our rations at our gates and eat\nthem up. They would blow bugles at we children and beat drums. Our old\nMissus would take victuals to them.\n\n\"The paterollers down there where we lived was Geo. Harris, Lamb Crew,\nJim Jones, and Theo. Merchant. They bothered us lots. On the first day\nof the month, some was put up on the whipping block and whipped with an\noak paddle with holes in it to make blisters; then de blisters were cut\nopen with cowhide whips.\n\n\"When freedom come, all slaves went to some place to get work. My father\ngive me six cuts a day to work in the house to spin the yarn. My\nmistress used to have me pick up de sheckles for her when she was making\na homespun dress. In the winter time we had homespuns, too, but\nsometimes had flannel underwear. I helped at the corn mill, too, always\nwent there and tote a half bushel corn many days. The mill belonged to\nCapt. McNary. I worked hard, plowed, cut wheat, split cord wood, and\nother work just like a man.\n\n\"When any niggers died they had funerals like they do now, 'cept the\npallbearers den would sing. They carried the bodies in wagons, and the\npreacher would say words while they was going to the grave.\n\n\"When the soldiers was here, I 'member how they would sing:\n\n  \"I'm all de way from Georgia,\n  I'm all the way to fight,\n  I left my good old mother,\n  To come here to fight.\"\n\n  \"Joe Bowers, Joe Bowers,\n  He had another wife,\n  He's all de way from Missouri,\n  To come here to fight.\"\n\n\"I didn't like slavery. I'd rather live like now.\n\n\"I thought Abraham Lincoln was a big man, a fine man. I thought Jeff\nDavis was all right. I don't know nothing about Booker Washington.\"\n\n  =Source:= Lucy Gallman (80), Newberry, S.C.\n          Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St,\n                        Newberry, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  May 24, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born about 1857, and belonged to Marse George Gallman who lived\nin the Dutch Fork, on de old road to Pomaria, S.C. There was not a\nbetter man to his slaves. When the Ku Klux went through, they never hurt\nanybody at our place. The Padder-rollers never did harm any of Marse\nGeorge's slaves--he would not allow it.\n\n\"After the war when I married, I moved to Newberry, but first, I moved\nto the Jalapa section and lived there ten years.\n\n\"I allus 'member the old wheat mill dat old Captain Ellerson had in\nDutch Fork, on Cannons Creek. All the neighbors would take their wheat\nthere to grind.\"\n\n  =Source:= Simon Gallman (80), Newberry, S.C.\n          Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (5/18/37).\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  Folklore\n  Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n  Oct. 25, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  EX-SLAVES STORIES\n\n\n\"I live in de house wid my grandniece and her husband. It is a two-room\nhouse which dey rent; and dey take care of me. I am old, weak and in bed\nmuch of de time. I can't work any, now. My grandniece had to give up her\njob so she could stay home and take care of me. Dat makes it hard fer\nus.\n\n\"I don't remember much about de war nor de Ku Klux 'cept what I done\ntole you befo'. Dey never bothered us. My master would not let 'em\nbother us. He was George Gallman and he had a big farm and lots of\nslaves. Just atter freedom come he made a coffin shop in back of his\nhouse in a little one-room shack. He made coffins fer people about de\ncountry. It got to be han'ted, and sometimes niggers could see ghosts\naround dere at night, so dey say, I never saw none, myself.\n\n\"Master George and his mistress was good to de niggers. Dey always give\ndem plenty to eat. I had it good, and never bothered about nothing den.\nDe slaves never learn't to read and write; but dey went to de\nwhitefolks' church. Dey had to go, and set in de back or in de gallery.\n\n\"When freedom come, de slaves hired out mostly as share-croppers. A\nlittle later, some got small farms to rent. Since dat time dey have\nworked at most anything dey could get to do. De ones dat moved to town\nworked at odd jobs, some at carpenter work, janitor work or street work;\nbut most of dem worked in fields around town.\n\n\"I married Hattie Eckles. When she died I went to Jalapa and lived ten\nyears dere; den atter I got too old to work, I come to town and lived\nwid my kin.\n\n\"I was about twelve years old when dey made me go to de field to work.\nBefo' dat and after dat, too, I worked around de barn and took care of\nde stock.\n\n\"As fer eats, we had plenty. We had good collards, turnips and other\ngood vegetables. De master has his own hogs, too, and we had plenty meat\nto eat.\n\n\"Christmas was a big day fer us. We never worked dat day. We had good\ndinner, and could do what we wanted to do. We never had to work in de\nfields on Saturday. We would do washing or go hunting or something else.\n\n\"All I know about slavery being all right, is dat I had a good time,\nbetter dan now. Abraham Lincoln was a good man. I don't know nothing\nagin' him. Never heard anything about Jefferson Davis. I think Booker\nWashington is a good man. He do good fer de niggers in giving dem\neducation.\n\n\"I joined de church when I was young because others was joining. I think\neverybody ought to belong to de church.\"\n\n  =Source:= Simon Gallman (80), Newberry, S.C.\n          Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (9/3/37)\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885\n  District #4\n  Spartanburg, S.C.\n  June 1, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Martha Ritter\n\n  FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in 1861, at Gary's Lane, in Newberry County, S.C. My father\nand mother and me were slaves of Dr. John Gary who lived in a big fine\nhouse there. They had lots of slaves, and a large plantation. After\nfreedom come he told them they could go where they wanted to, but they\nstayed on with Doc Gary. He was a good master; he never allowed any\npaderollers around his place; he always give the slave a pass when he\nwent off. When de Ku Klux went up and down the road on horses, all\ncovered with white sheets, old Doc wouldn't allow them on his place.\n\n\"We was allowed to hunt, and we hunted rabbits, 'possums, a few foxes in\nthe neighborhood, partridges, squirrels, and doves.\n\n\"We went to school after freedom come; we had a school for niggers and\nhad a church for niggers, too.\n\n\"Doc Gary had a big piano in his house, and most everybody else had a\nfiddle or Jews harp. He had a wide fireplace in his kitchen where he\ncooked over it, in skillets.\n\n\"I think Abe Lincoln was a fine man and Jeff Davis was all right. Booker\nWashington is a smart fellow.\"\n\n  =Source:= Laurence Gary (76), Newberry, S.C. (Helena)\n          Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St,\n                          Newberry, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Code No.\n  Project 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, December 2, 1937\n\n  No. ----\n  Reduced from ---- words\n  Rewritten by ----\n\n  LOUISA GAUSE\n  Ex-Slave, Age 70-75\n\n\n\"I been born down yonder to old man Wash (Washington) Woodberry's\nplantation. Pa Cudjo, he been keep my age in de Bible en he tell me dat\nI come here de first year of freedom. Monday Woodberry was my\ngrandfather en Celina Woodberry, my grandmother. I tell you, I is seen a\nday, since I come here. My mammy, she been drown right down dere in de\nPee Dee river, fore I get big enough to make motion en talk what I know.\nDat how-come it be dat Pa Cudjo raise me. You see, Pa Cudjo, he been\nwork down to de swamp a heap of de time en been run boat en rafter up en\ndown dat river all bout dere. Ma, she get word, one day, she better come\ncross de river to de Sand Hills to see bout grandmammy cause she been\ntook down wid de fever en was bad off. Pa Cudjo tell her de river been\nmighty high, but dat he would risk to take us. Say, Ma, she get in de\nboat wid Pa Cudjo en take me in her lap en dey start cross de river. De\nwind, it begin gettin higher en higher en de boat, it go dis way en den\nit go de other way. Cose I never recollect nothin bout dat day cause I\nwon' nothin, so to speak, but a sucklin child den. But I hear Pa Cudjo\nspeak bout de water wash rougher en rougher en knock side dat boat just\nlike it been comin out de ocean. Say, fore he think bout he in trouble,\nde wind just snatch he hat right out in de water en when he reach out\nafter it, he hear Ma holler en de next thing he know, us all been\nthrowed right out in de water. Yes, mam, de boat turned over en dumped\nus all out in dat big old crazy river. Pa Cudjo say, if he ain' never\nhad no mind to pray fore den, he know, when he see dat boat gwine down\ndat stream, dere won' nothin' left to do, but to pray. Pa Cudjo tell dat\nhe make for de bank fast as he could get dere cause he know de devil\nbeen in de river dat day en he never know whe' he might go. I reckon you\nhear talk bout, Pa Cudjo, he been a cussin man. Never had no mind what\nhe was gwine let loose no time. But poor Ma, she been a buxom woman, so\ndey tell me, en when she hit de bottom of dat river, she never didn'\ncome to de top no more. Like I tell you, I never been long come here den\nen I ain' been fast gwine under de water cause dere won' no heaviness\nnowhe' bout me. Pa Cudjo say, he pray en he cuss en when he look up, he\nsee a boat makin up de river wid two men in it en me lyin dere 'tween\ndem. You see, dey had come along en pick me up bout a mile from dere\nfloatin down de river. Now, I tellin you what come out of Pa Cudjo\nmouth. Pa Cudjo say, when he see me, he been so happy, he pray en he\ncuss. Say, he thank de Lord for savin me en he thank de devil for lettin\nme loose. Yes, mam, I tell you, I been raise up a motherless child right\ndere wid Pa Cudjo en I been take de storm many a day. I say, if you is\ndetermine to go through wid a thing, God knows, you can make it. Cose\nPa Cudjo, he been mighty good to me, but he used to have dem cussin\nspells, my Lord. Been love to keep up fun all de time.\"\n\n\"Oh, de colored people never had no liberty, not one speck, in slavery\ntime. Old man Wash Woodberry, he was rough wid his niggers, but dem what\nlived on Miss Susan Stevenson's plantation, dey been fare good all de\ntime. I know what I talk bout cause I been marry Cato Gause en he tell\nme dey been live swell to Miss Susan's plantation. Dat whe' he been born\nen raise up. Hear Pa Cudjo talk bout dat Miss Harriet Woodberry whip my\nmother one day en she run away en went down in Woodberry en stayed a\nlong time. Say, some of de Woodberry niggers stayed down dere till after\nfreedom come here. Yes, mam, white folks would whip dey colored people\nright dere, if dey didn' do what dey tell dem to do. Oh, dey was awful\nin dat day en time. Colored people had to live under a whip massa en\ncouldn' do nothin, but what he say do. Yes, mam, dey had dese head men,\nwhat dey call overseers, on all de plantations dat been set out to whip\nde niggers. I tell you, it was rough en tough in dem days. Dey would\nbeat you bout to death. My grandfather en my grandmother, dey die wid\nscars on dem dat de white folks put dere.\"\n\n\"Oh, my Lord, dey would give de colored people dey allowance to last dem\na week to a time, but dey never didn' give dem nothin widout dey work\nto get it en dat been dey portion. I remember, I hear Cato tell bout Mr.\nBobbie say, \"Mom Dicey, dey tell me dey catch Bacchus stealin Pa's\nwatermelons out de field de other night.\" (Bacchus was Mom Dicey's son).\nGrandmother Dicey say, \"Oh, he never take nothin but dem little rotten\nend ones.\" Den Mr. Bobbie say, \"Well, dey tell me, dey catch Bacchus\nstealin de horse's corn out de feed trough de other night.\" En\ngrandmother Dicey say, \"Well, if he did, he never take nothin, but what\nbeen belong to him.\" Dat it, some white folks was better to dey colored\npeople den others would be. Would give dem so much of meal en meat en\nmolasses to last dem a week en dey would feed all de nigger chillun to\nde big house 'tween meals. Have cook woman to give dem all de milk en\nclabber dey wanted dere to de white people yard.\"\n\n\"De overseer, he would give you a task to do en you had to do it, too,\nif you never been want your neck broke. Yes, mam, de overseer would\nstock you down en whip you wid a buggy whip. Some of de time, when de\ncolored people wouldn' do what dey been put to do, dey would hide in de\nwoods en stay dere till de overseer come after dem. Oh, dey would find\ndem wid de nigger dog. When de overseer would find out dey had run away,\nhe would send de nigger dog to hunt dem. My God, child, dem dogs would\nsho find you. Some of de time, dey would run you up a tree en another\ntime, dey would catch you whe' dere won' no tree to go up en grab you\nen gnaw you up. Yes, mam, de overseer would hear you hollerin or else he\nwould hear de dog barkin at you up de tree. Dem nigger dogs, I know you\nis see dem kind of dogs. Dey is high, funny lookin dogs. Don' look like\nno other kind of dog. When dey would find de one dey was huntin, dey\nwould just stand right dere en look up in de tree en howl.\"\n\n\"De colored people never had no church dey own in slavery time cause dey\nwent to de white people church. Yes, mam, I been dere to de Old Neck\nChurch many a day. In dat day en time, when de preacher would stand up\nto preach, he would talk to de white folks en de colored people right\ndere together. But when de colored people would get converted in dem\ndays, dey never been allowed to praise de Lord wid dey mouth. Had to\npray in dey sleeve in dem days. De old man Pa Cudjo, he got right one\nday to de big house en he had to pray wid he head in de pot.\"\n\n\"No, mam, de colored people never didn' have no liberty no time in dem\ndays. Cose dey had dey little crop of corn en 'tatoe en thing like dat\nbout dey house, what dey would work at night, but dat won' nothin to\nspeak bout. Oh, dey would put fire in a fry pan en fetch it up on a\nstump to see to work by.\"\n\n\"No, child, white people never teach colored people nothin, but to be\ngood to dey Massa en Mittie. What learnin dey would get in dem days, dey\nbeen get it at night. Taught demselves.\"\n\n\"Now, Pa Cudjo, if he been here, my Lord, I couldn' never say what he\nmight could tell you. Like I say, he been a cussin man en he die wid a\nbright mind. Cose I never come here what dey call a slavery child, but I\nbeen hear slavery people speak dey mind plenty times.\"\n\n  =Source:= Louisa Gause, colored, age 70-75; Brittons Neck, S.C.\n          Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1665\n  W.W. Dixon\n  Winnsboro, S.C.\n\n  GRACIE GIBSON\n\n  EX-SLAVE 86 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"I was born at Palatka, Florida. I was a slave of Captain John Kinsler.\nWish all white men was just like him, and all white women like Miss\nMaggie Dickerson, de lady that looks after me now.\n\n\"Captain John wouldn't sell his niggers and part de members of de\nfamily. He fetched us all, Daddy George, Mammy Martha, Gran'dad Jesse,\nGran'mammy Nancy, and my two brothers, Flanders and Henry, from Florida\nto Richland County, South Carolina, along wid de rest.\n\n\"My mistress was named Mary. Marster John had a daughter named Adelaide,\nbut they call her Ada. I was called up on one of her birthdays, and\nMarster Bob sorta looked out of de corner of his eyes, first at me and\nthen at Miss Ada, then he make a little speech. He took my hand, put it\nin Miss Ada's hand, and Say: 'Dis your birthday present, darlin'.' I\nmake a curtsy and Miss Ada's eyes twinkle like a star and she take me in\nher room and took on powerful over me.\n\n\"We lived in a two-room log house daubed wid mud and it had a wood and\nmud chimney to de gable end of one room. De floor was hewed logs laid\nside by side close together. Us had all we needed to eat.\n\n\"De soap was made in a hopper for de slaves. How dat you ask? A barrel\nwas histed on a stand 'bove de ground a piece; wheat straw was then put\ninto de barrel, hickory ashes was then emptied in, then water, and then\nit set 'bout ten days or more. Then old fats and old grease, meat skins,\nand rancid grease, was put in. After a while de lye was drained out, put\nin a pot, and boiled wid grease. Dis was lye-soap, good to wash wid.\n\n\"Slaves had own garden. Some of de old women, and women bearin' chillun\nnot yet born, did cardin' wid hand-cards; then some would get at de\nspinnin' wheel and spin thread, three cuts make a hank. Other women\nweave cloth and every woman had to learn to make clothes for the family,\nand they had to knit coarse socks and stockin's. Mighty nigh all de\nchillun had a little teency bag of asafetida, on a string 'round they\nnecks, to keep off diseases.\n\n\"Us slaves had 'stitions and grieve if a black cat run befo' us, or see\nde new moon thru de tree tops, and when we start somewhere and turn\nback, us sho' made a cross-mark and spit in it befo' we commence walkin'\nagain.\n\n\"I 'member Wheeler's men come to our house first, befo' de Yankees. They\ntook things just like de Yankees did dat come later. Marster John was a\nCaptain, off fightin' for Confeds but dat didn't stop Wheeler's men from\ntakin' things they wanted, no sir! They took what they wanted. Wasn't\nlong after then dat the Yankees come and took all they could and burnt\nwhat they couldn't carry off wid them.\n\n\"After de war I marry Abe Smith and had two chillun by him, Clifton and\nHattie. De boy died and Hattie marry a man named Lee. She now lives at\nWhite Oak.\n\n\"My husband die, I marry Sam Gibson, and had a nice trousseau dat time.\nBlue over-skirt over tunic, petticoats wid tattin' at de borders, red\nstockin's and gaiter shoes. I had a bustle and a wire hoop and wore a\nveil over my hair.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  May 31, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was Capt. Jack's body-guard in during de whole entire war. I means\nCapt. Jack Giles, his own self. And I is pushing close to a hundred. Dey\nused to make likker in de holler down on Dr. Bates' place deep in de\nforest. De soldiers would drink by de barrels. Mr. Will Bates, Dr.\nBates' son, helped me out of skimage one time.\n\n\"Don't never go in no war, 'less you is gwine to give orders like my\nmarse Jack. Dat is, onless you is gwine to act as body-guard. Time of de\nwar, old man Sammy Harmon had a state still. He never sold no likker to\nno private. De bluecoats, dey blockade Charleston and Savannah. Miss\nJanie couldn't get no spices fer her cakes, neither could she get no\nlinen and other fine cloth fer her 'dornment. Couldn't nothing get by\ndat blockade. So Mr. Sammy, he make de likker by de barrels. Dem dat had\nwagins come and fotch it off, as many barrels as de mules could draw,\nfer de soldiers. I drunk much as I wanted. De drum taps say, 'tram\nlam-lam, following on de air. De sperrits lift me into a dance, like\ndis, (he danced some) 'cept I was light on my foots den--atter I had\ndone drunk, anyhow.\n\n\"De sharp-shooters got atter me one day. Mr. Dewey, one of de rangers,\nsent fer de cannon balls. Dese run de bluecoats.\n\n\"I went to Petersburg wid Capt. Douglas, dat Miss Janie's second\nhusband. Our train went dat fast, dat it took my breaf away. But de cars\ngoes much faster, gwine to Patter-a-rac now.\n\n\"All de picket-men had dogs. Lots of de soldiers had niggers wid dem. At\nnight in de camp when de Yankees would come spying around, de dogs would\nbark. De niggers would holler. One Confederate officer had a speckledy\ndog that could smell dem Yankees far off. When de Yankees got dare,\neverything was ready. When us want information fer direction and time,\nall us had to do was to look up through de pines fer it.\n\n\"One song I remembers is, 'would like to catch-a feller looking like\nme'. Another was, 'I feel as happy as a big sun-flower.' (Charlie can\nsing them both, and dance accompaniment.)\n\n\"At Petersburg, April 1863, de Yankees act like dey was gwine to blow\neverything up. I crawl along de ground wid my Marster, and try to keep\nhim kivered as best as I could. Us reached Chica-hominy River and go\nover to Petersburg. Den dey blow up Richmond. De river turn to blood\nwhile I was looking at it. De cannons deafened me and I has been hard of\nhearing ever since. Some de blue tails clumb de trees when us got atter\ndem.\n\n\"Next time I'se gwine to tell you about deserters and refugees. Ain't\nnobody got no business in automobiles 'cept lawyers, doctors, and\nfools.\"\n\n  =Source:= Charlie Giles, Rt. 3, Box 274, Union, S.C.\n          Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 2/8/37.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Phoebe Faucette\n  Hampton County\n\n  Folklore\n\n  WILLIS GILLISON\n  Luray, S.C.\n\n\nThere is no doubt that \"Uncle Gillison\" is old. He is knock-kneed and\nwalks slowly. His long thin hands clutch his chair strongly for support\nas he continually shifts his position. When he brings his hands to the\nback of his head, as he frequently does, in conversation, they tremble\nas with palsy. He enjoys talking of the old times as do many of his\ncontemporaries.\n\n\"Yes, Maam,\" he starts off. \"I been heah when de war was on. I seen when\nde drove of people come up. Dey was dress in blue clothes. Call dem\nYankees. Had de Scouts, too. But dey was de Southerners. I knowed all\ndem! I wasn't nuthin' but a little boy but I kin remember it.\n\n\"Mr. Jesse Smith wife been my young Missus. Dey lived at Furman. My\nmother mind Mr. Trowell's father. His name was Mr. Ben Trowell. I call\nhim, Bub Ben. Bub was for brother. Dat de way we call folks den--didn't\ncall 'em by dere names straight out. Mr. Trowell's mother we call, Muss,\nfor Miss. Sort of a nickname. We call Mr. Harry Fitts grandmother, Muss,\ntoo.\n\n\"My daddy was name Aleck Trowell. After freedom he was call by his own\nname, Aleck Gillison. After freedom some was call by dere own name--some\nwere, and some weren't. My father was sold from a Gillison, first off.\n\n\"How old I is? Well, Missus, I been put on de road to 75 years, but I'm\nmore than dat. I'm between seventy and eighty years old.\n\n\"I knows Mr. Tom Lawton. Dey was rich people. My old Massa and him been\nboys together. Dey was a place call de Trowell Mill Pond right at de\nLawton place. Mr. Lawton was sure rich, 'cause we all had a\nplenty--plenty to eat, and sech likes--Mr. Lawton was rich! When Mr.\nTrowell got up a little higher than what he was, he trade his Lena place\nfor a place at Stafford. De Stafford place was some better.\n\n\"Yes Maam, de records was burn. Dey had a courthouse at Gillisonville in\ndem times. Dat fact 'bout it Miss. Now I don't want you to say a nigger\n'spute your word, or nuthin' like that, (this, in response to the\nvisitor having remarked that the records were burned at Beaufort) but I\ndon't think that Beaufort was built up till after the war. Gillisonville\nwas right muchly built up. I don't think de records was burn at\nBeaufort. I think it was at de courthouse at Gillisonville dey was burn\nup. Now de district was call Beaufort District, but de courthouse was at\nGillisonville. Gillisonville was where dey had de trial of de Mr. Martin\ndat kill Mr. Peeples. De Morrisons lived at Gillisonville. Plenty of\n'em!\n\n\"I kin tell you where two of de old Robert homes used to be. One was\nback dis way toward Scotia from Robertville. Dat was de Mr. John H.\nRobert' place. Had a whole string of cedar trees going up to his place.\nNow den, 'bout two miles out from Robertville going from de white folk'\nchurch out toward Black Swamp was another Robert place. Dat where old\nMajor Robert lived. He had a whole tun (turn) of slaves. Dere was no\nRobert live right in de village of Robertville. De Lawtons was de only\npeople live right in Robertville--and one family of Jaudons. I don't\nknow of no other Robert home.\n\n\"Dat's all I kin tell you 'bout de old times, Missus. I don't want to\ntell you what ain't true.\"\n\n  =Source:= Willis Gillison, 75 years old, (Ex-slave) Luray,\n          S.C.--R.F.D.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  June 10, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"We lived in a log house during the Ku Klux days. Dey would watch you\njust like a chicken rooster watching fer a worm. At night, we was\nskeered to have a light. Dey would come around wid de 'dough faces' on\nand peer in de winders and open de do'. Iffen you didn't look out, dey\nwould skeer you half to death. John Good, a darkey blacksmith, used to\nshoe de horses fer de Ku Klux. He would mark de horse shoes with a bent\nnail or something like that; then atter a raid, he could go out in the\nroad and see if a certain horse had been rode; so he began to tell on de\nKu Klux. As soon as de Ku Klux found out dey was being give away, dey\nsuspicioned John. Dey went to him and made him tell how he knew who dey\nwas. Dey kept him in hiding, and when he told his tricks, dey killed\nhim.\n\n\"When I was a boy on de 'Gilmore place', de Ku Klux would come along at\nnight a riding de niggers like dey was goats. Yes sir, dey had 'em down\non all-fours a crawling, and dey would be on dere backs. Dey would carry\nde niggers to Turk Creek bridge and make dem set up on de bannisters of\nde bridge; den dey would shoot 'em offen de bannisters into de water. I\n'clare dem was de awfulest days I ever is seed. A darky name Sam Scaife\ndrifted a hundred yards in de water down stream. His folks took and got\nhim outen dat bloody water and buried him on de bank of de creek. De Ku\nKlux would not let dem take him to no graveyard. Fact is, dey would not\nlet many of de niggers take de dead bodies of de folks no whars. Dey\njust throwed dem in a big hole right dar and pulled some dirt over dem.\nFer weeks atter dat, you could not go near dat place, kaise it stink so\nfer and bad. Sam's folks, dey throwed a lot of 'Indian-head' rocks all\nover his grave, kaise it was so shallah, and dem rocks kept de wild\nanimals from a bothering Sam. You can still see dem rocks, I could carry\nyou dere right now.\n\n\"Another darky, Eli McCollum, floated about three and a half miles down\nde creek. His folks went dere and took him out and buried him on de\nbanks of de stream right by de side of a Indian mound. You can see dat\nIndian mound to dis very day. It is big as my house is, over dere on de\nChester side.\n\n\"De Ku Klux and de niggers fit at New Hope Church. A big rock marks de\nspot today. De church, it done burnt down. De big rock sets about seven\nmiles east of Lockhart on de road to Chester. De darkies killed some of\nde Ku Klux and dey took dere dead and put dem in Pilgrims Church. Den\ndey sot fire to dat church and it burnt everything up to de very bones\nof de white folks. And ever since den, dat spot has been known as 'Burnt\nPilgrim'. De darkies left most of de folks right dar fer de buzzards and\nother wild things to eat up. Kaise dem niggers had to git away from dar;\nand dey didn't have no time fer to fetch no word or nothing to no folks\nat home. Dey had a hiding place not fer from 'Burnt Pilgrim'. A darky\nname Austin Sanders, he was carring some victuals to his son. De Ku Klux\ncotch him and dey axed him whar he was a gwine. He lowed dat he was a\nsetting some bait fer coons. De Ku Klux took and shot him and left him\nlying right in de middle of de road wid a biscuit in his dead mouth.\n\n\"Doctor McCollum was one of dem Ku Klux, and de Yankees sot out fer to\nketch him. Doc., he rid a white pony called 'Fannie'. All de darkies,\ndey love Doc, so dey would help him fer to git away from de Yankees,\neven though he was a Ku Klux. It's one road what forks, atter you\ncrosses Wood's Ferry. Don't nobody go over dat old road now. One fork go\nto Leeds and one to Chester. Well, right in dis fork, Mr. Buck Worthy\nhad done built him a grave in de 'Woods Ferry Graveyard'. Mr. Worthy had\ndone built his grave hisself. It was built out of marble and it was\nkivered up wid a marble slab. Mr. Worthy, he would take and go dar and\nopen it up and git in it on pretty days. So old Doc., he knowed about\ndat grave. He was going to see a sick lady one night when dey got atter\nhim. He was on old Fannie. Dey was about to ketch de old Doc. when he\nreached in sight of dat graveyard. It was dark. So Doc., he drive de\nhorse on pass de fork, and den he stop and hitch her in front of some\ndense pines. Den he took and went to dat grave and slip dat top slab\nback and got in dar and pulled it over him, just leaving a little crack.\nDoc. lowed he wrapped up hisself in his horse blanket, and when de\nYankees left, he went to sleep in dat grave and never even woke up till\nde sun, it was a shinning in his face.\n\n\"Soon atter dat, my sister took down sick wid de misery. Doc., he come\nto see her at night. He would hide in de woods in daytime. We would\nfetch him his victuals. My sister was sick three weeks 'fore she died.\nDoc, he would take some blankets and go and sleep in dat grave, kaise he\nknow'd dey would look in our house fer him. Dey kept on a coming to our\nhouse. Course we never know'd nothing 'bout no doctor at all. Dar was a\nnigger wid wooden bottom shoes, dat stuck to dem Yankees and other po'\nwhite trash 'round dar. He lowed wid his big mough dat he gwine to find\nde doctor. He told it dat he had seed Fannie in de graveyard at night.\nUs heard it and told de doctor. Us did not want him to go near dat\ngraveyard any more. But Doc, he just laugh and he lowed dat no nigger\nwas a gwine to look in no grave, kaise he had tried to git me to go over\ndar wid him at night and I was skeer'd.\n\n\"One night, just as Doc was a covering up, he heard dem wooden shoes a\ncoming; so he sot up in de grave and took his white shirt and put it\nover his head. He seed three shadows a coming. Just as dey got near de\ndoc, de moon come out from 'hind a cloud and Doc, he wave dat white\nshirt and he say dem niggers just fell over grave-stones a gitting outen\ndat graveyard. Doc lowed dat he heard dem wooden shoes a gwine up de\nroad fer three miles. Well, dey never did bother the doctor any more.\n\n\"Doc, he liked to fiddle. Old Fannie, she would git up on her hind legs\nwhen de doc would play his fiddle.\"\n\n  =Source:= Brawley Gilmore (col), 34 Hamlet St., Union, S.C.\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (12/3/36)\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  Ex-slave--(Pick Gladdeny, Pomaria, Rt. 3, S.C.\n  Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.\n  EARLY RECOLLECTIONS.\n  Typist: Louise Dawkins, Rt. 4, Union, S.C.\n\n\n\"Ah sees all through 'im now. Naw, sir, Ah doesn't know whar Ah wuz\nbawn, maybe in Fairfield, maybe in the Dutch Fork, Ah doesn't know, Ah\nwon't dar. It wuz on May 15, 1856. Ah 'spec Ah could've been born on Mr.\nJoe Hellar's place, you knows dat down on Hellar Creek.\n\n\"Ah'se old enough to go to de speechin' dat Dan White made on \"Maybinton\nDay\" (emancipation speech at Maybinton, S.C.). You axes me more than I\ncan answer, Site of folks dar all day, settin' aroun. Us clam trees, so\nus could see and hear. I sho did listen but I don't 'member nothin' what\nde man say. I knows dis dat I still hears dat band music ringing in my\nears. At dat time I was so young dat all I cared about on dat day, was\nthe brass band what let out so much music. Niggers being free never\nmeant nothing to us chaps, cause we never had no mind fer all such as\nthat nohow. Dat de first band dat I ever seed, and to tell you de truf I\nnever seed no more till the World War fotch de soldiers all through\nhere. Bands charms me so much dat dey just plumb tickles the tips of my\ntoes on both feets.\n\n\"Squire William Hardy was de man dat I worked for when I had done turned\nfive. Dey teach me to bring in chips, kindling wood, fire wood and\nwater. I learnt to make Marse's fire ever morning. Dat won't no trouble,\ncause all I had to do was rake back de ashes from the coals and throw on\nsome chips and lightwood and de fire come right up. Won't long 'fore I\nwas big enough to draw water and bring in big wood. You knows what big\nfire places they got down dar cause Squire Hardy--Mr. Dick's Pa, and Pa\nand Heyward and Frank's grandpa.\n\n\"Squire Hardy was a good man so was Mr. Dick. Mr. Dick was dat smart\ntill he just naturally never forgot nothing that was told to him. If he\nwas a-living, he could tell you way back before de Squire's time. I was\nright dar at Squire Hardy's dat day Freedom come and de band come to\nMaybinton.\n\n\"Going farther back than this, droves of niggers used to come down the\nroad by Squire Hardy's front gate. Yes, sir, a overseer used to come\nthrough here driving niggers; just like us drives cows and hogs up\naround this big road these days and times. One day Squire Hardy went out\nand stopped a drove coming down de road in the dust. He pick him out a\ngood natured looking darky and give the overseer one eye contrary\nniggers, what nobody didn't like for the good-natured ones. Ain't got no\nmore to say. I does not remember but I has heared about the time when\nmy ma moved from Hellar's Plantation in the Dutch Fork to the Tom Lyles\nquarter in Fairfield. My ma's name Sally Murphy. Her master was Dave\nMurphy. He stayed at Tom Lyles. Mistus Betsy (Dave Murphy) cared for\nher. Mr. Dave Murphy overseed for Capt. Tom Lyles who lived about two\nmiles from Lyles' Ford on Broad River.\n\n\"I don't know what things has gone to. So much diffence in everthing now\nthan it was back in dem days. Don't know nothing about no Booker T.\nWashington. I sees much but hears little 'bout dat what I doesn't see,\nYes, siree boy, all such little 'muck' go in one ear and come out\ntother'n wid me. Dat's de talk fer dese young niggers dats eddicated,\nand I ain't dat bad off.\n\n\"Winnsboro fust town I ever seed, but it don't favor itself now.\n\n\"Maybinton the place I love best in all the world. Most my life is right\nhere. I'll be buried in Hardy graveyard, whar my white folks dat was so\ngood to me lie sleeping, and dat's whar my ma and pa and others that I\nloves lies too.\n\n\"Post office at Maybinton is whar Miss Bessie Oxner stay. Bill Oxner,\nher pa kept de post office from de time it started till they stopped it,\nfur as I knows. It look better then than it does now. Mr. Bill Oxner\npretty good man.\n\n\"He was a settled man. His wife was a good-looking lady who before her\nmarriage was a Bethune.\n\n\"Dar was a big store at the end of Mr. W. B. Whitney's plantation. Dis\nalong to'd first of Freedom. Mr. Slattery lived twixt the Maybins and\nthe Whitney's house. The store upon the end was kept by Mr. Pettus Chick\nand Mr. Bill Oxner. It was a good store. Didn't have to go to Newber'y\nto git no candy and 'Bacco. And Dr. Jim Ruff was de doctor what tended\nto folks in dem parts when dey got sick.\n\n\"De old Buck when I first knowed it was run fer a dwelling house by Mr.\nJeff Stewart. I been knowed Maybinton all my life. But when I come along\nstages had done gone out but that's where dey stopped when they come\nfrom Spring Hill. I'se heared dat de Buck had large stables and a lots\nof folks stop there and rested overnight on their way to the Springs.\n(Glenn's, Chick's, and West Springs.)\n\n\"Used to rather dance than to eat. Started out at sundown and git back\nto the Whitney's at daybreak, den from dar run all de way to Squire\nHardy's to git dar by sunup. Pats our feets and knocks tin pans was the\nmusic dat us niggers danced to all night long. Put on my clean clothes\ndat was made right on the plantation and wear them to the dance. Gals\nwore their homespun stockings. Wore the dresses so long dat they\nkivered their shoes. My britches were copperus colored and I had on a\nhome wove shirt with a pleated bosom. It was dyed red and had\nwristbands. I wore that shirt for five years.\n\n\"Didn't have no nigger churches down dar den. We went to Chapman's\nstand. It had a brush top and log seats. The darkies from the Hardy\nPlantation walked five miles to hear a nigger from Union preach. He driv\na one horse waggin and course he stayed around from place to place and\nthe folks take care of him and his mule. Big Jim Henderson owned\nChapman's stand which was in the Glymp quarter. The Glymp quarter still\ngot the best land in our settlement yet. All my 'quaintances done left\nme, fac' is, most of them done crossed over de river. Folks meets me and\nspeaks familiar. I axes, \"Who is that?\" I used to deal with Mr. Bee\nThompson in Union.\n\n\"I'se got some business to tend to in Union soon and I spec I be up\nthere in short to see is it anything familiar dar.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  W.W. Dixon\n  Winnsboro, S.C.\n\n  HENRY GLADNEY\n  EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nHenry Gladney lives with his wife, his son, Murdock, his\ndaughter-in-law, Rose, and seven grandchildren. They live near White\nOak, S.C., in a two-room frame house with a one-room box board annex. He\nworks a one-horse farm for Mr. Cathcart and piddles a little at the\nplaning mills at Adgers. His son does the ploughing. The daughter-in-law\nand grandchildren hoe and pick cotton and assist in the farm work. Henry\nis of medium height, dark brown complexion, and is healthy but not\nvigorous.\n\n\"I lives out on de John H. Cathcart place, close to White Oak. In\nslavery time my mammy b'long to old Marse Johnnie Mobley, and us lived\nin de quarter 'bout three miles to de west of Woodward station, tho'\ndere was no station dere when I was a boy. De station was down de\nrailroad from dere and then it was called Yonguesville. My mammy name\nLucy, my pappy name William, my sisters was Louise, Elsie, and Adeline.\nMy brudders name Tim and Curtis.\n\n\"I wasn't a very big boy in slavery time, tho' I 'member choppin'\ncotton, and pickin' cotton and peas 'long 'side mammy in de field. Pappy\nwas called 'Bill de Giant', 'cause him was so big and strong. They have\nmighty bad plantation roads in them days. I see my pappy git under de\nwagon once when it was bogged up to de hub and lift and heft dat wagon\nand set it outside de ruts it was bogged down in. Him stayed at de\nblacksmith shop, work on de wagons, shoe de mules and hosses, make\nhinges, sharpen de plow points and fix de iron rings in de wagon wheels.\n\n\"My pappy didn't 'low other slave men to look at my mammy. I see him\ngrab Uncle Phil once, throw him down on de floor, and when him quit\nstompin' Uncle Phil, they have to send for Dr. Newton, 'cause pappy done\nbroke Uncle Phil's right leg. My old marster no lak dat way one of his\nslaves was crippled up. Him 'low to whip pappy for it. Pappy tell mammy\nto go tell Marse John if he whip him, he would run off and go to de\nNorth. She beg for pappy so, dat nothin' was done 'bout it. 'Spect Marse\nJohn fear to lose a good blacksmith wid two good legs, just 'bout a\nsmall nigger man wid one good leg and one bad leg.\n\n\"It come to de time old marster have so many slaves he don't know what\nto do wid them all. He give some of them off to his chillun. He give\nthem mostly to his daughters, Miss Marion, Miss Nancy, and Miss\nLucretia. I was give to his grandson, Marse John Mobley McCrorey, just\nto wait on him and play wid him. Little Marse John treat me good\nsometime and kick me 'round sometime. I see now dat I was just a little\ndog or monkey, in his heart and mind, dat 'mused him to pet or kick as\nit pleased him. Him give me de only money I ever have befo' freedom, a\nbig copper two-cent piece wid a hole in it. I run a string thru dat hole\nand tied it 'round my neck and felt rich all de time. Little niggers\nalways wanted to see dat money and I was proud to show it to them every\ntime.\n\n\"Little Marse John's mother was another daughter of old Marster John.\nHer name was Dorcas. They live in Florida. I was took 'way down dere,\ncried pow'ful to leave my mammy, but I soon got happy down dere playin'\nin de sand wid Marse John and his little brudder, Charlie. Don't 'member\nnothin' 'bout de war or de Yankees. Freedom come, I come back to de\nMobley quarters to mammy. I work for old Marster John up 'til after\nHampton was 'lected. I marry Florie Williams, a pretty black gal on de\nMobley quarters. Us is had seventeen chillun. So far as I know they is\nall livin'. Some in Florida, some in Sparrows Point, Virginia, some in\nCharlotte, N.C., and some in Columbia, S.C. Murdock and his wife, Katie,\nand deir six chillun live in de same house wid me.\n\n\"My old marster have two daughters dat marry McCroreys. Miss Lucretia\nmarry James McCrorey and Miss Dorcas marry John McCrorey. Miss Lucretia\nhave a son name John. Miss Dorcas have a son name John. In talkin' wid\nold mistress, 'fusion would come 'bout which John of de grandsons was\nbein' meant and talked 'bout. Old Marster John settle dat.\n\n\"Old Marster John and old mistress (her name Katie) had de same\nbirthday, March de 27th, tho' old Marster John was two years older than\nold Mistress Kate. They celebrate dat day every year. All de\nchillun-in-laws and grandchillun come to de mansion, have a big dinner\nand a big time. After dinner one day, all de men folks 'semble at de\nwoodpile. De sun was shinin' and old marster have me bring out a chair\nfor him but de balance of them set on de logs or lay 'round on de chips.\nThen they begun to swap tales. Marse Ed P. Mobley hold up his hand and\nsay: 'See dis stiff finger? It'll never be straight agin. I got out of\nammunition at de secon' battle of Bull Run, was runnin' after a Yankee\nto ketch him, threw my gun 'way to run faster, ketch him as he was 'bout\nto git over a fence and choked his stiff neck so hard in de scuffle dat\nI broke dat finger. General Lee hearin' 'bout it, changed me from de\ninfancy (infantry) to de calvary (cavalry) dat I might not run de danger\nany more.' Old marster laugh and say: 'Jim, can you beat dat?' Marse Jim\nMobley say: 'Well, you all know what I done at Gettysburg? If all had\ndone lak me dat day, us would have won de war. Whenever I see a bullet\ncomin' my way, I took good aim at de bullet wid a double charge of\npowder in my musket. My aim was so good dat it drove de enemy ball back\nto kill a Yankee and glanced aside at de right time to kill another\nYankee. I shot a thousand times de fust day of de battle and two\nthousand times de secon' day and kilt six thousand Yankees at\nGettysburg!' Old marster slap his sides and fell out de chair a\nlaughin'! When him git back in de chair, him say: 'Zebulon, what you\ngot to say?' Marse Zeb, p'intin' to his empty pants leg, say: 'Me and\nsome officers 'tended a chicken fight on de banks of de Chickenhominy\nRiver de day befo' de battle of Shilo. De cocks fight wid gaves on deir\nheels. Dere was five hundred fights and two hundred and fifty roosters\nwas kilt. Us have big pots of chicken and big pots of hominy on de banks\nof de Chickenhominy Creek dat night and then de battle of Cold Harbor\ncome de nex' day. I had eat so much chicken and hominy my belly couldn't\nhold it all. Some had run down my right leg. Us double quicked and run\nso fast thru swamps nex' day, after Yankees, my right leg couldn't keep\nup wid my left leg. After de battle I went back to look for dat leg but\nnever could find it. Governor Zeb Vance tell me afterwards, dat leg of\nmine run on to Washington, went up de White House steps, and slushed\nsome of dat chicken and hominy on de carpet right befo' President\nLincoln's chair.'\n\n\"Everybody laugh so loud dat old mistress come out and want to know what\nfor they was laughin' 'bout. All dat had to be gone over agin. Then her\nlaugh and laugh and laugh. She turnt 'round to my young Marster John and\nsay: 'John, can you beat dat?' He say: 'Henry, go git grandma a chair.'\nI done dat. Then my young marster start. Him say: 'One day down in\nFlorida, I saddle my pony, took Henry dere up behind me and went a\nfishin' on de St. John River. I had some trouble a gittin' thru de\neverglades when I want to fish but us got dere. Big trees on de banks\nand 'round, wid long moss hangin' from de limbs. I baited my hook wid a\nsmall, wigglin', live, minnow and throwed out into de water. Nothin'\nhappen. In de warm sunshine I must have gone to sleep, when I was\nstartle out my doze by Henry a shoutin': 'Marse Johnnie, Marse Johnnie,\nyour cork done gone down out of sight!' I made a pull but felt at once\nit would take both hands to land dat fish. I took both hands, put my\nfoot 'ginst de roots of a great live oak and h'isted dat fish in de sky.\nIt was so big it shut out de light of de sun. When it come down, dat\nfish strip off de limbs of de trees it hit while comin' to de ground. I\nsent Henry back to de house on de pony, for de four-hoss wagon and all\nde men on de place, to git de fish home. When us got it home and cut it\nopen, dere was 119 fishes varyin' from de size of de minnow up to de big\nfish. Marse Ed P. say: 'Was de little minnow dead or 'live when you\nfound him in de belly of de 119th fish? 'He was still wigglin', say my\nyoung marster. Old marster say: 'It was a whale of a fish, wasn't it,\ngrandson?' Young marster say: 'It was, grandpa. De river bank show dat\nde water went down two inches after I pulled him out.' 'Maybe it was a\nwhale', said Marse Ed P. 'In fact, it was', said Marse Johnnie,' 'cause\non one of de ribs under de belly was some tatooin'.' 'What was de\ntatooin'?' ask old mistress, just as innocent as a baby. 'De word\nNenivah', say Marse little John. 'Why it might have been de whale dat\nswallowed Jonah', say Miss Katie. 'It was', say my young marster, 'for\njust under Nenivah was de name Jonah.' After a good laugh old marster\nsay: 'Your name is changed from John Mobley McCrorey to John Munchawsome\nMcCrorey.' Kin folks call him Barron after dat. Him lak dat but when\nthey got to callin' him, lyin' John McCrorey him git red in de face and\nwant to fight.\n\n\"Poor Marse Johnnie! Wonder if him still livin'. Him marry a rich woman\nin Florida but her soon 'vorce him. What her 'vorce him for?\n'Pattybility and temper, they say. What I means by pattybility? I 'spect\ndat mean de time they was gittin' up in de mornin' and her lam him\n'cross de head wid de hairbrush and him take dat same hairbrush, push\nher down 'cross de bed and give her a good spankin'. Now you're laughin'\nagin but it was no laughin' wid her dat mornin', de way I hear them tell\nit.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist 4\n  July 15, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in Newberry County, South Carolina. Near Indian Creek above\nJalapa. My mammy and pa was Charlie and Frances Gilliam. We belonged to\nMarse Pettus and Harriet Gilliam who had a big plantation. I married\nGeorge Glasgow in the yard of Reid place, by a nigger preacher. My\nhusband died about 15 years ago.\n\n\"I was a young child when de war stopped, and don't remember so much\nabout slavery times. Marse Pettus and Miss Harriet was good to us. I\nnever got a whipping, except Misses whipped me once wid just one lick.\nDey give us a small patch of 'bout half acre fer us to raise cotton or\nanything we wanted to on it. De master had a big garden and give his\nslaves plenty vegetables. We had plenty to eat all de time. My pa,\nCharlie, was de foreman of a crowd of slaves, and dere was a white\noverseer, too.\n\n\"Master Gilliam had a boy dey called 'Bud'. He still lives in Arkansas.\nDey all moved to state of Arkansas sometime atter de war. My master was\na good man, a church man, and he was steward in Tranquil Methodist\nChurch. Around de place at home he was always singing and in good humor.\nI 'member one song he sung dat was like dis:\n\n  \"Lord, Lord, Heaven--Sweet Heaven,\n  Lord, Lord, Heaven--Sweet Heaven,\n  How long will it be?\n    (repeated three times)\n\n\"De first time I come to town was when I was a little child, and when we\ngot to College Hill, about ten miles from home, I started to run back\nhome because I heard de train whistle blow.\n\n\"Miss Harriet always give us chilluns 'mackaroot tea' fer worms. It's\nmade from roots of a plant dat grow in de woods. We had to drink it\nbefore breakfast, and it shore had a bitter taste.\n\n\"Slavery wasn't good much, I reckon, but I had a good time ... didn't\nnothing bother me. When freedom come, all of us stayed with de master\nuntil he and his folks moved away.\n\n\"Old Dr. Clark was de best doctor in de state. He lived at Jalapa. He\nused to give barbecues at his home in de yard under big trees. He had\nniggers dere, too. Dey eat by demselves. Old Mrs. Sligh lived above\ndere. I waited on her when she was sick. When she died, she made her son\npromise not to hold against me what I owed her--just let it go--and told\nhim not to ever let me go hungry.\n\n\"Once when Master Gilliam took one of his slaves to church at old\nTranquil, he told him dat he mustn't shout dat day--said he would give\nhim a pair of new boots if he didn't shout. About de middle of services,\nde old nigger couldn't stand it no longer. He jumped up and hollered:\n'Boots or no boots, I gwine to shout today'.\n\n\"I jined de church atter I got married, 'cause I wanted to do right and\nserve de Lord.\"\n\n  =Source:= Emoline Glasgow (78), Newberry, S.C.\n          Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (7/8/37)\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  Sept. 16, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I live on Mr. Sim Bickley's farm, about five miles northwest of\nNewberry Courthouse. I have a fairly good house to live in. I work on\nthe farm, myself, and make a pretty good living from it. I live with my\nsecond wife. I had two children but they both died.\n\n\"I was born on Dr. Geo. W. Glenn's plantation, about six miles north of\nNewberry. My parents, Berry and Frances Glenn, were slaves of Dr. Glenn.\nI was seven years old when freedom come.\n\n\"Dr. Glenn gave us good quarters to live in and plenty to eat. He was a\ngood man and was not hard on slaves; but the mistress was mean to some\nof the slaves that come from the Glenn side. She was good to the slaves\nthat come into her from her daddy.\n\n\"I didn't work much around the place when I was small, just did little\nthings to help. The master had a big garden and raised lots of green\nvegetables like turnips, collards, cabbages and some okra, but little\nbeans except cornfield beans. We had plenty clothes.\n\n\"The master whipped us sometimes when we needed it. They would not learn\nus to read and write. Some of the slaves went to the white folks'\nchurch.\n\n\"I was married the first time on the Glasgow place by a colored preacher\nnamed Boyd. Her daddy didn't want us to marry; he didn't like me. I\nslipped to the field where she was working and stole her; went to the\npreacher and got married. I married the second time in town on College\nHill.\n\n\"A band of Confederate soldiers in 1865 went past the master's house on\ntheir way from war, and Mistress had dinner for them. They eat out\nunder big shade trees in the yard where Master always kept a long table\nfor dinners they had sometimes. When freedom come, the master called all\nhis slaves up to the house one night and spoke to them. He said they was\nfree, but any who wanted to stay on with him and help make the crop that\nyear could stay and he would pay wages. All stayed that year.\n\n\"The Ku Klux and Red Shirts didn't like Negroes. They would catch them\nand whip them.\n\n\"It was a long time after the war before the negroes had a school. They\nwent to white folks churchs for a long time. Some of them had 'brush\nharbors' for their churches, and schools, too.\n\n\"I don't know nothing about Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis. I can't\ngive much about Booker Washington, except I heard of him and believe he\nis a good man and doing a good turn for the negroes.\n\n\"I think slavery was wrong; don't think one man ought to own another\nman.\n\n\"I joined the church when I was about 25 or 30 years old.\"\n\n  =Source:= Silas Glenn (79), Newberry, S.C. RFD\n          Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/9/37.\n\n\n\n\n  Project, 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, August 11, 1937\n\n  JOHN GLOVER\n  Ex-Slave, 77 Years\n  Timmonsville, S.C.\n\n\n\"Born on Rafter Creek bout 20 miles from Timmonsville on Elija Carson\nplace. My white folks live in big two story house dere cause my Massa\nwas a bankholder in Charleston en dat de reason he go back en forth to\nCharleston every week or two. My Massa a good man, a good man, en I hope\nhe restin in Heaven dis day.\"\n\n\"De Carsons had bout 2,000 acres of land en 100 head of slaves on dey\nplantation. Have long row of house up in de quarter whe' all de slaves\nlive. We have a very good livin in dat day en time. Had more to eat den\nwe do dese days cause rations won' scarce like dey is now. Eat potatoes\nen peas en corn bread en homemade grits mostly, but I likes everything\nto eat, Captain. Den dey give us a garden to make us greens en things\nlike dat en we is catch possum heap of de time. Uncle Ben (father's\nfather) was a great possum hunter, but he died fore I get big enough to\ngo huntin wid him. He went possum huntin every night till something went\nup de tree one night en possum talk to him. He used to go huntin on a\nSunday night en dat how-come de possum talk to him.\"\n\n\"You didn' see de peoples wear much different clothes like dey wear dese\ndays, but what dey have was very decent. Just have bout one piece,\nCaptain, make out of some kind of homemade cloth wid no extra for\nSunday. Wear same kind of pants on Sunday dat wear every day en same\nkind of shoes call brogans wid brass toes. I ain' see no fittin cloth\nsince dey used to raise sheep en have dey own wool en have loom en spin.\nLook like God smile on us in dat day en time.\"\n\n\"I work round de white folks house fore freedom come, but I go back to\nde quarter en sleep when night come. Dem dat live in de quarter have\nlumber bed wid mattress made out of sacks en hay. Den when dey ring dem\nbells en blow dem horns in de mornin, dat mean you better get up en go\nbout your task for dat day.\"\n\n\"Oh, dey work us hard en late in dem times. Work from de sunrise in de\nmornin to de sundown in de evenin. Dey have a driver dat tote whip en\nsee dat you do what you know to do. Didn' have no jail in dat day, but\nif you ain' do your task en dey catch you, dey punish you by de whip.\nSome of de time, dey put em in de screw box what dey press bales of\ncotton wid. Put em in dere en run press right down whe' can' crush en\ndey oouldn' move till dey take em out in de mornin en whip em en put em\nto work. See plenty whipped on de place. Dey make one fellow go over a\nbarrel, en de other peoples hold he head down en de driver whip him.\nGive em 50 en 75 licks fore dey stop sometimes. Use chains to hold em\nwhen dey break ropes so dey couldn' get away.\"\n\n\"I see em sell slaves heap of times. See em gwine along in droves en\nsayin dey was gwine to market. Sell em if dey ain' stay on de place en\nwork. Bid em off just like horse en mules. What am I bid for dis one?\nCome en open you mouth en examine you teeth en dey wouldn' miss you a\nyear.\"\n\n\"Oh, Gracious God, didn' get married till after de shake was en I reckon\nI bout 30 years old den. Captain, we thought it was de Jedgment\n(Judgment). It come like it was thunderin in de earth, rollin in de\nearth en de earth was gwine en comin. We pray en all de cows en chickens\nwas yelling. Last dat night bout 30 minutes dat you could look at\nanything en it look like top spinning. We was all good bout two years\nafter dat.\"\n\n\"My white folks didn' teach none of dey slaves to read en write en didn'\nlet em go bout from one plantation to de other no time. All us know is\nwhen we go to dey meetin en dey pray wid us. Peoples used to sing en\npray in de quarter on Saturday night en when dey dig grave en have a\nfuneral. Dey didn' do bout buryings den like dey do now. Burying dem\ntimes en de funeral would all be over at de burying. Slaves didn' have\nno way to go to de funeral but to walk. Den a white man would stop you\nen if you have a ticket wid you dat have pass word on it, you could go\non.\"\n\n\"I can tell you all bout when dem Yankees come through dere. Some was on\nblack horses, some on red horses, en some on white horses. De one dat on\nblack horse wear black, de one on white horse wear white, en de one on\nde red horse wear red. De horses had sense enough to double up when dat\nman hollo from de top of dem. Dey was wearing soldier clothes en dey\ncome up to you house en set place on fire, kill cow or anything dey want\nto. Dey burn up Carson house en stay dere till next day. Dey talk to my\nmamma cause our house de next one to de white folks house. De white\nfolks done been gone. Dey ask her whe' dey hide dey money en she know\ndey hide it to Stafford Hill, six miles from de house, but she didn'\ntell dem. Don' know yet what became of de money, but dem Yankees loaded\nan old chest on de wagon en took all de slaves dat wanted to run away\nwid dem en left dere.\"\n\n\"Slaves didn' know what to do de first year after freedom en den de\nYankees tell de white folks to give de slaves one-third of dey crops.\nWhat de slaves gwine buy land wid den, Captain? Won' a God thing to eat\nin dat time. Had to plow corn wid ox cause de Yankees took all de horses\nen mules dey wanted. My mother worked on three years dere for de white\nfolks en dey give her one bushel of corn en dey take two. One bushel of\ncorn en dey take two. Measured by de same basket.\"\n\n\"Well, I can' tell you bout people, but I can tell you bout my poor\nsoul. I think I know I'm bless to be here en raise three generation\nclear up dis world. All my chillun dead en gone en God left me to live\namong dese wild varments here. I have to cry sometimes when I think how\ndey die en leave me in dis troublesome world. During slavery time, didn'\nknow what hard times was. I know you see in de Bible dat God sorry he\nmade man done so. I'm sorry dat de last war done. Every time you fight\nwar makes times harder. See three war en every one I see makes time\nworse. Money gets balled up in one or two hand. Looks bad to me. Didn'\nknow what it was one time to be hungry.\"\n\n  =Source:= John Glover, Ex-Slave, 77 Years, Timmonsville, S.C.\n          (Personal interview by Mrs. Lucile Young and H. Grady Davis.)\n\n\n\n\n  Project, 1885-1\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, June 28, 1937\n\n  HECTOR GODBOLD\n  Ex-Slave, 87 Years\n\n\n\"What you gwine do wid me? I sho been here in slavery time. Talk to dem\nsoldiers when dey was retreatin dey way back home. My old Missus was\nMiss Mary Godbold en den she marry a Haselden. Dey buy my mamma from de\nold man Frank Miles right over yonder. Harry en Cindy Godbold was my\nparents. We live in a one room house in de slave quarter dere on de\nwhite folks plantation. My God, sleep right dere on de floor. Had\ngran'parents dat come here over de water from Africa. Dey tell me dat\nwhe' dey come from dey don' never let no man en he wife sleep together\ncause dey is scared of em catchin disease from one another. Dat sho a\ngood thing, you know dat. I think dat sho a good thing.\"\n\n\"Dey ain' never give none of de colored peoples no money in dat day en\ntime. Coase dey give us plenty something to eat. Fed us out a big bowl\nof pot licker wid plenty corn bread en fried meat en dat bout all we\never eat. Dey is let us have a garden of we own dat we had to work by de\nnight time. You see de colored folks know dey had to get up soon as dey\nhear dat cow horn blow en dat been fore daylight come here. Oh, dey work\nfrom dark to dark in dat day en time. Didn' but one day out all de year\nstand dat was a week day en dat was de big Christmus day. Sweet molasses\nbread was de thing dat day. Coase dey give us a big supper when dey had\ndem cornshucking day. Oh, dey had a frolic den dat last way up to de\nmidnight.\"\n\n\"I never live dere to de Haselden plantation wid my parents long fore\ndey hire me out to Massa John Mace en I stay dere till me en Maggie (his\nwife) come here to live. Nurse six head of chillun for de white folks\ndere. I hear em say my Missus was a Watson fore she marry Massa John\nMace. Lord, Lord, love dem chillun to death. If Moses Mace been livin,\nyou wouldn' be talkin to no Hector Godbold bout here dese days. He de\none what give me en Maggie dat four room house you see settin dere. My\nMissus give me a good beatin one time when I did drop one of dem baby.\nJust put me head under her foot en beat me dat way.\"\n\n\"Another thing I had to do was to carry de baby cross de swamp every\nfour hour en let my mamma come dere en suckle dat child. One day I go\ndere en another fellow come dere what dey call John. He en my mamma get\nin a argument like en he let out en cut my mamma a big lick right cross\nde leg en de blood just pour out dat thing like a done a what. My mamma\ntook me en come on to de house en when Miss Jane see dat leg, she say,\n\"Cindy, what de matter?\" My mamma say, \"John call me a liar en I never\ntake it.\" Miss Jane tell em to send after Sam Watson right den. Sam\nWatson was a rough old overseer en he been so bowlegged dat if he stand\nstraddle a barrel, he be settin down on it just as good as you settin\ndere. Sam Watson come dere en make dat fellow lay down on a plank in de\nfence jam en he take dat cat o' nine tail he have tie round his waist en\nstrike John 75 times. De blood run down off him just like you see a\nstream run in dat woods. Dat sho been so cause all we chillun stand bout\ndere en look on it. I suppose I was bout big enough to plough den. When\ndey let John loose from dere, he go in de woods en never come back no\nmore till freedom come here. I tellin you when he come back, he come\nback wid de Yankees.\"\n\n\"Oh, de colored peoples never know nothin more den dogs in dem times.\nNever couldn' go from one plantation to de other widout dat dey had a\nticket wid em. I see Sam Watson catch many of dem dat had run way en\nbuff en gag em. Never have no jails nowhe' in dat day en time. Dey sho\nsell de colored peoples way plenty times cause I see dat done right here\nto Marion. Stand em up on a block en sell em to a speculator dere. I\nhear em bid off a 'oman en her baby dere en den dey bid off my auntie en\nuncle way down to de country. Dey wouldn' take no whippin off dey Massa\nen dat how-come dey get rid of em. My gran'pappy been worth $1,000 en it\nde Lord's truth I tellin you, he drown fore he let em whip him. Den my\ngran'mammy use to run way en catch rides long de roads cause de peoples\nlet em do dat den. Coase if dey catch her, dey didn' never do her no\nharm cause she was one of dem breed 'omans.\"\n\n\"Never know nothin bout gwine to school in dem times. Just pick up what\nlearnin we get here, dere, en everywhe'. Learnt something to de white\nfolks meetin house dere to Antioch settin on de back side of dat church\non dem benches what de slaves had to set on. I is know dis much dat I\nvoted three times to de courthouse in Marion way back in dem days.\"\n\n\"Sho, we chillun play game en frolic heap of de time. Shinny was de\nthing dat I like best. Just had stick wid crook in de end of it en see\ncould I knock de ball wid dat. I sho remembers dat. Den I was one of de\ngrandest hollerers you ever hear tell bout. Use to be just de same as a\nparrot. Here how one go: O--OU--OU--O--OU, DO--MI--NICI--O,\nBLACK--GA--LE--LO, O--OU--OU--O--OU, WHO--O--OU--OU. Great King, dat\nain' nothin.\"\n\n\"Ain' never believe in none of dem charms people talk bout en ain' know\nnothin bout no conjuring neither, but I know dis much en dat a spirit\nsho slapped Maggie one night bout 12 o'clock. Den another time me en her\nwas comin home from a party one night en I had a jug of something dere\nwid me en Maggie ax me for it. Say something was followin after her. De\nnext thing I know I hear dat jug say, gurgle, gurgle, gurgle. I look\nback en she been pourin it out on de ground. She say she do dat to make\nde spirit quit followin after her. Dat spirit sho been dere cause I see\ndat licker disappear dere on de ground wid me own eyes.\"\n\n\"Sho, dey had doctors in dat day en time. Had plant doctors dat go from\none plantation to another en doctor de peoples. Dr. Monroe was one of\ndem doctor bout here en dere ain' never been no better cures nowhe' den\ndem plant cures was. I get Maggie so she can move bout dat way. She won'\nable to walk a step en I boil some coon root en put a little whiskey in\nit en make her drink dat. It sho raise her up too. Dem coon root look\njust like dese chufas what you does find down side de river. Dat sho a\ncure for any rheumatism what is. I know dat all right.\"\n\n\"Mighty right, I remembers when freedom was declare. I think dat must a\nbeen de plan of God cause it just like dis, if it hadn' been de right\nthing, it wouldn' been. I know it a good thing. De North was freed 20\nyears head of de South en you know it a good thing. I a history man en I\nrecollects dat de history say de North was freed 20 years fore de South\nwas.\"\n\n\"I sho hear dem guns at Fort Sumter dere en I remembers when dem\nsoldiers come through dis way dat de elements was blue as indigo bout\nhere. Had parade bout five miles long wid horses dancin bout en fiddles\njust a playin. Some of dem Yankees come dere to de white folks house one\nof dem time, when my Massa was way from home workin dere on de\nManchester Railroad, en ax my Missus whe' dey horses was. Dem horses\ndone been hide in de bay en dey never get nothin else dere neither, but\na little bit of corn dat dey take out de barn.\"\n\n\"I 87 year old now en I here to tell you dat I never done nobody no mean\ntrick in all me life. I does fight cause I cut a man up worth 19\nstitches one of dem times back dere. Two of em been on me one time en I\nwhipped both of em. I tellin you I been good as ever was born from a\n'oman. It just like dis, I say fight all right, but don' never turn no\nmean trick back. Turn it to God, dat what do. Dem what go to church in\nde right way, dey don' have no vengeful spirit bout em. I sho goes to\nchurch cause de church de one thing dat does outstand\neverything--everything.\"\n\n  =Source:= Hector Godbold, ex-slave, age 87, Pee Dee,\n          Marion Co., S.C.\n          (Personal interview, June 1937).\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1855\n  Stiles M. Scruggs\n  Columbia, S.C.\n\n  DANIEL GODDARD\n  EX-SLAVE 74 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"My name is Daniel Goddard. I was born in Columbia, S.C. Feb. 14, 1863,\nto slave parents. You know I recall no contacts I made in slavery for I\nwas too young during that period. You know too, if I had been born in\nMassachusetts, for example, I should have been free, because all slaves\nin the United States had been set free when President Lincoln, shortly\nbefore my birth, January, 1863, struck the shackles from bondage.\n\n\"The Confederate states had seceded from the Union and they paid no\nattention to the freedom proclamation during the war. So the slaves in\nthe South, generally speaking, stayed on until the Confederacy collapsed\nin April, 1865, and even then, some of the slaves were slow to strike\nout for themselves, until the Federal government made ample preparations\nto take care of them.\n\n\"Now you ask, if I heard about escapes of slaves. Sure I did and I heard\nmy parents discuss the efforts of slaves to shake off the shackles. This\nwas probably true because my father's brother, Thomas, was a member of\nthe slave ship which was taking him and 134 others from Virginia to New\nOrleans. A few miles south of Charleston, the slaves revolted, put the\nofficers and crew in irons, and ran the ship to Nassau.\n\n\"There they went ashore and the British Government refused to surrender\nthem. They settled in the Bahama Islands and some of their descendants\nare there today. That was about 1830, I think, because my Uncle Thomas\nwas far older than my father. I heard about the other slave revolts,\nwhere that African prince, one of a large number of slaves that were\nkidnaped, took over the Spanish ship L'Amada, killing two of the\nofficers. The remaining officers promised to return the slaves to Africa\nbut slyly turned the ship to port in Connecticut. There the Spanish\nminister at Washington demanded the slaves, as pirates. Appeal was made\nto the courts and the United States Court ruled that slavery was not\nlegal in Spain and declared the slaves free.\n\n\"The Nat Turner insurrection in Virginia and the Vesey uprising in\nCharleston was discussed often, in my presence, by my parents and\nfriends. I learned that revolts of slaves in Martinique, Antigua,\nSantiago, Caracas and Tortugus, was known all over the South. Slaves\nwere about as well aware of what was going on, as their masters were.\nHowever the masters made it harder for their slaves for a while.\n\n\"I have a clipping, now worn yellow with age, which says the Federal\ncensus of 1860, showed there were 487,970 free Negroes and 3,952,760\nslaves in the United States at that time. I am not at all surprised at\nthe number of free Negroes. Many South Carolina families freed a number\nof their slaves. Some slaves had the luck to be able to buy their\nfreedom and many others escaped to free areas. The problem of slavery as\na rule, was a question of wits, the slave to escape and the master to\nkeep him from escaping.\n\n\"I once talked with Frederick Douglass, perhaps the most eminent Negro\nto appear so far in America. He told me he was born a slave in Maryland,\nin 1817, and that he served there as a slave for ten years. He escaped\nto Massachusetts, where he was aided in education and employment by the\nGarrisons and other abolitionists, and became a leader of his race. He\nwas United States Minister to Haiti at the time I met him and was\neminent as an orator. He died in 1895.\n\n\"You ask, what do I think of the Presidents. Well, I have always been\nsuch an admirer of Andrew Jackson, a South Carolinian, that I may be\nprejudiced a little. The reason I admire him so much, is because he\nstood for the Union, and he didn't mean maybe, when he said it. He\nserved his time and God took him, just as he took Moses.\n\n\"Then Lincoln was raised up for a specific purpose, to end slavery,\nwhich was a menace to both whites and blacks, as I see it. And President\nWilson kept the faith of the fathers, when he decided to put the German\nKaiser where he could no longer throw the world into discord. But there\nhas only been one President whose heart was touched by the cry of\ndistress of the poor and needy and his name is Franklin D. Roosevelt. He\nis one white man who has turned the bias of the Negroes from the bait of\npartisan politics.\n\n\"Yes, sir, I recall the reconstruction period here in Columbia. My\nparents lived until I was about grown and we kept the middle of the\nroad, in the matter of selling out to the Federal soldiers and\ncarpet-baggers on the one hand, or to designing politicians on the\nother. But my father was an admirer of General Hampton, because General\nHampton owned many Negroes at one time and had treated them well.\nBetween Hampton and Chamberlain for governor, in 1876, most of my Negro\nfriends voted for Hampton.\n\n\"What have I been doing since I grew up? Well, I have been busy trying\nto make a living. I worked for various white folks in this community and\nsometime for the railroads here, in a minor capacity. My younger years\nwere spent in the quest of an education. For the past thirty years I\nhave been the porter for the State Paper Company, Columbia's morning\nnewspaper. As I became proficient in the work, the Gonzales boys grew\nfond of me. While the youngest one, Hon. William E. Gonzales, was absent\nin the diplomatic service in Cuba and in Peru for eight years for\nPresident Wilson, I looked after the needs of Mr. Ambrose Gonzales.\nShortly before he died, Hon. William E. Gonzales returned. He has since\nbeen editor and publisher of the 'State', as well as principal owner.\n\n\"You ask, if I have applied for an old age pension. No, I have not. I am\nold enough to qualify, I guess, but I understand, you cannot get a\npension if you have a job. If that is so, I shall never enjoy any\npension money. I would not leave serving my friend, Captain William E.\nGonzales, for any pension that might be offered me.\"\n\n<tb>\n\nN.B. This man is well educated, speaks no dialect. He received his\neducation from Northern teachers in Freedman aid, equal to the modern\nhigh school curriculum. He afterward studied in Boston. He reads,\nwrites, and speaks excellent English.\n\nAddress: 1022 Divine Street, Columbia, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler\n  Murrells Inlet, S.C.\n  Georgetown County\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  AUNT ELLEN GODFREY\n  (Ex-Slave)\n  (Verbatim Conversation)\n\n\n(Aunt Ellen is a misfit in her present environment. Born at Longwood\nPlantation on Waccamaw in 1837, all she knows is the easy, quiet life of\nthe country. And the busy, bustling 'RACE PATH' near which her Grandson\nlives with whom she makes her home doesn't make a fitting frame for the\nold lady. All day she sits in a porch swing and when hungry, visits a\nneighbor. The neighbors (colored--all) vie with each other in trying to\nmake her last days happy days. She says they do her washing and provide\nnecessary food. When you start her off she flows on like the brook but\nusually her story varies little. She tells of the old days and of the\nexperiences that made the greatest impression--the exciting times during\nthe 'Confedrick' war--the 'Reb time day.')\n\nVisitor: \"Aunt Ellen home?\"\n\nAunt Ellen's neighbor (from the washtub):\n\n\"No'um. She right cross there on the 'Race Path'\" (So called because in\nConway's early days races were run--horse races--on this street.)\n\nVisitor: \"Are you one of the neighbors who take such good care of Aunt\nEllen?\"\n\nNeighbor: \"No'um. I'm off all day. I work for Miss Bernice.\"\n\nVisitor: \"Miss Bernice who?\"\n\nNeighbor: \"Miss Bernice something nother. I can't keep up with that lady\ntitle! See Aunt Ellen white cap yonder?\"\n\nAunt Ellen (Sitting on chair at back door leaning on cane.)\n\n\"I want everybody come to my birthday! Seventh o' October coming be a\nhundred. Baby one dead jew (due) time! Five daughter--one sanctify\npreacher. Seven one--one Ports-smith Virginia. All dead! All dead!\nMarry three times; all the husband dead! My last baby child--when the\nFlagg storm kill everybody on the beach, (1893) the last child I have\nout my body been a year old!\n\n\"Last time I gone see the old Doctor, rap! rap! Doctor: \"Come in!\" Gone\nin. Doctor: \"Great God! Looker Aunt Ellen! For the good you take care\nDaddy Harry, God left you live long time!\"\n\n<tb>\n\nEllen: \"Flat 'em all up to Marlboro! (All the slaves) Ten days or two\nweeks going. PeeDee bridge, stop! Go in gentlemen barn! Turn duh bridge!\nBeen dere a week. Had to go and look the louse on we. Three hundred head\no' people been dere. Couldn't pull we clothes off. (On flat.) Boat name\nRiprey. Woman confine on boat. Name the baby 'RIPREY!' Mama name Sibby.\"\n\n(Neighbor: \"Aunt Ellen been looking for you all day! Keep saying she\ngot to go home. A white lady coming and she got to be there!\")\n\nAunt Ellen: \"Doctor come on boat. By name Doctor Lane. White lady come\ntend woman. Get to Marlboro where they gwine. Put in wagon. Carry to the\nstreet. Major Drake Plantation. One son Pet Drake. Wife leetle bit of a\nwoman.\n\n\"I see Abram Lincoln son Johnny! Talk with him! Gimme tobacco. I been to\nloom. Weave. Sheckle flying--flying sheckle!\n\n  (Singing): \"Tech (touch) me all round my waist!\n              Don't tech my water-fall!\n              Gay gal setting on the rider fence!\n              Don't tech my water-fall!\"\n\n\"Clothes gone to wash this morning. (Can't go today.) Clothes gone.\n\n\"I been here so long--I ax Jesus one day carry me next day! Can't make\nup my bed. Like an old hog sleep on a tussick.\" (I always heard it 'Toad\non a tussock'--and you?)\n\n(Four lean cats prowled about sniffing around the woodpile where a boy\nwas scaling some pale, dead fish.)\n\nVisitor: \"Aunt Ellen, how could you cook on the flat?\"\n\nAunt Ellen: \"Dirt bank up. Fire make on dirt. Big pot. Cook. Fry meat.\nCome PeeDee get off flat. Bake. Bake. Iron oven. Stay PeeDee week. Bake.\nPile coals on oven top.\" (Another slave told of scaffold--four posts\nburied and logs or planks across top with earth on planks. On this pile\nof earth, fire was made and on great bed of coals oven could be heated\nfor baking. 'Oven' means the great iron skillet-like vessel with three\nlegs and a snug lid. This oven bakes biscuit, pound cake, and some old\ntimers insist on trusting only this oven for their annual fruit cake. It\nworks beautifully on a hearth. Put your buttermilk biscuit in, lid on\nand pile live-oak coals on top. Of course only the ones who have done\nthis a long time know when to take the lid off.)\n\n\"Dirt camp to stay in--to hide from Yankee.\" (Her gestures showed earth\nwas mounded up.)\n\nVisitor: \"Like a potato bank? A potato hill?\"\n\nEllen: \"Dat's it! Pile 'em! Gone in dirt camp to hide we from Yankee.\nHave a Street Row of house. Yankee coming. Gone in dirt camp.\n\n\"I been weave. My loom at door. Six loom on dat side! Six loom on dis\nside! I see 'em coming. Hat crown high as this.\" (She measured off\nalmost half of her walking stick--which had a great, tarnished plated\nsilver knob.) \"And I tell 'em 'Yankee coming!' I talk with Abram Lincoln\nown son Johnny and, bless your heart I glad for Freedom till I fool!\"\n\n(Singing)\n\n  'Freedom forever!\n  Freedom everymore!\n  Want to see the Debbil run\n  Let the Yankee fling a ball\n  The Democrack will take the swamp!'\n\n\"Massa been hide. Been in swamp.\" (This is history. All the old men, too\nold for the army, hid in Marlboro swamps and were fed by faithful slaves\nuntil Yankees passed on. My grandmother and mother gave vivid accounts\nof this--my mother telling of the sufferings of the\nwomen--mental--worrying about her feeble old grandfather down there with\nthe mocassins)\n\nEllen: \"Yankee officer come. 'Where Mahams Ward and John J. Woodward?\nCome to tell 'em take dese people out the dirt camp! Put we in flat.\nCarry back!' (In first story Aunt Ellen told the Yankee Captain said,\n'Tell 'em be Georgetown to salute the flag!')\n\n\"Put food and chillun in flat. We been walk.\" (Walking back to Waccamaw)\nWe gone. (See 'um! See their feet like the children of Israel in Green\nPastures!) In man's house. Man say, 'Come out! You steal my turnip!'\nBrush arbor. Night come. Make camp. Way down the road somewhere! Make a\nbig bush camp. All squeeze under there. Left Marlboro Monday. Come\nConway Friday sun down! Hit Bucksville, hit a friend. Say 'People\nhungry!' Middle night. Snow on ground. Get up. Cook. Cook all night!\nRice. Bake tater. Collard. Cook. Give a quilt over you head. I sleep. I\nsleep in the cotton. I roost up the cotton gone in there.\" (Burrowed\ndown in the cotton--'rooted' it up) \"December. Winter time. Cook all\nnight. Corn-bread, baked tater, collard. Git to Bucksport, people gin to\nwhoop and holler! Three flat gone round wid all the vittles.\" (And with\nthe very young and very old) Easier coming home. Current helped. Going\nup against the current, only poles and cant hooks--tedious going. \"Git\n'Tip Top' (Plantation) all right. Come home den! Git to double trunk\n(rice-field trunk) at 'Tip Top' Whoop! Come bring flat! Mother Molly\ndead on flat! Bury she right to Longwood grave-yard. Nuss. (nurse) Sam'l\nHemingway bury there. Horse kill 'em in thrashing mill. Child name\nEgiburt bury there too. Horse gwine round in thrashing. He lick the\nhorse. Horse kick 'em. Whole gang white jury come!\n\n\"Sing and pray all the time. Pray your house. Pray all the time. (I wish\nto God I could get some of you clam!)\n\n\"Salem Baptist? I helped build Salem! I a choir in Salem!\"\n\n  Aunt Ellen Godfrey\n  Age 99 years 10 months\n  Conway, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1655\n  Genevieve W. Chandler\n  Georgetown County, S.C.\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  MOM ELLEN GODFREY\n  (Ex-slave--Age 100)\n\n\n\"I'm waitin' on the leese (RELIEF). He was to have my birthday the seven\nof October.\n\n\"Slavery time Maussa buy 'em. We Maussa buy me one good shoe. Send slam\nto England. Gie me (give me) good clothes and shoe. I been a-weave. When\nthe Yankee come I been on the loom. Been to Marlboro district. A man\nplace they call Doctor Major Drake. Got a son name Cap and Pet. Oh,\nJesus! I been here TOO long. In my 99 now. Come seven o' October (1937)\nI been a hundred.\n\n\"Three flat (big flat-boats) carry two hundred head o' people and all\nthey things. We hide from Yankee but Yankee come and get we. Ask where\nMaussa! Maussa in swamp. I in buckra house. I tell Yankee: 'Them gone!\nGone to beach!' Yankee say:\n\n\"'Tell 'em to be in Georgetown to bow unto flag'.\n\n\"That time I been twenty-three years old. Old Doctor Flagg didn't born\nthen. He a pretty child and so fat. Love the doctor too much. Born two\nweeks after Freedom. He Ma gone to town. Melia Holmes? She ain't no more\nthan chillum to me. Laura and Serena two twin sister. When the Freedom I\nwas twenty-three--over the twenty-five. Great God, have-a-mercy! McGill\npeople have to steal for something to eat. Colonel Ward keep a nice\nplace. Gie'em (give them) rice, peas, four cook for chillum, one nurse.\nMake boy go in salt crick get 'em clam. That same Doctor Flagg Grandpa.\nGive you cow clabber. Share 'em and put you bittle for eat.\n\n\"Gabe Knox? (A very old colored man who has been dead ten years) I nurse\nGabe! I nurse 'em. He Pappy my cousin. I been a big young woman when he\nborn.\n\n\"Albert Calina? He a Christian-hearted people. Christian-heart boy. I\ngive my age. My birthday get over I want to go right home to Heaven.\n\n\"I gone to see Doctor Wardie when I in my 95. He say:\n\n\"'Great Dow! Looker Aunt Ellen! In you 95! What make you live to good\nage you take such good care you husband--Harry Godfrey.'\"\n\n  Conversation of Aunt Ellen Godfrey--age 99 years,\n  Conway, S.C. June 25th.\n\n\n\"Would gone wid you Missus, but I waiting on the 'Relief'. He wuz going\nto bring me the dress and shoe and ting. My birthday the seven of\nOctober coming. We Massa have give we good shoe. Right here Longwood\nPlantation. Massa was kind--you know. Send slam to England gie me good\nclothes and shoe. I been a weave when the Yankee come. I been on the\nloom to Marlboro district. A man place they call Doctor Major Drake. Got\na son name Cap and Pet. Oh, Jesus, been here too long! In my ninety-nine\nnow. Come seben of October been a hundred. Three flat\" (flat boats used\nfor rice field work) \"carry two hundred 'o people and all they things.\nWe hide from Yankee but Yankee come and git we. Ask whey (where)\nMassa. (Massa in swamp! I in buckra house. I say, 'Dem gone! Gone to\nbeach.' Say, 'Tell 'em to be in Georgetown to bow unto the flag.' Dat\ntime I been twenty-three year old. Doctor Flagg didn't born. He a pretty\nchild and so fat! Love duh Doctor too much! Born two weeks after\nfreedom. He Ma gone Georgetown. Granny git 'em there. Melia Holmes!\nAin't no more dan chillun to me!\" (Aunt Melia is eighty-eight or\nnine--bony and cripple) \"She have two twin sister Laura and Serena. When\nthe Freedom I wuz twenty-three years old.--over the twenty-five. Great\nGod hab a mercy! Couldn't do dat! Colonel Ward keep a nice place. Doctor\nMcGill people hab to steal for someting to eat. Gie 'em rice--peas. Four\ncook for chillun. One nurse\". (Aunt Ellen said 'Nuss') \"Make the boy go\nget 'em clam. That same Dr. Ward GrandPa. Great big sack 'o clam! Give\nyou cow clabber. Shay'm\". (Share them--the clabber) \"and put on bittle\nfor eat.\n\n\"Hagar Brown! She darter (daughter) got a abscess in her stomach. Save\nRutledge! I nuss (nurse) Sabe. I nuss 'em. Her pappy my cousin. I been\nbig young women, I nuss Sabe.\n\n\"Albert Calina a christian-hearted people. Christian hearted boy. Relief\ncome. I gie 'em my age. My birthday over, I wanter go right home to\nHeaven. Great Dow! 'Looker Aunt Ellen!' (That is what Dr. Wardie say\nwhen I gone see 'um.) 'In you ninety-five! What make you good, you take\ncare of you husband! 'Harry Godfrey waiting man! Marry twice time. He\nduh last----\n\n\"Andrew Johnson? Dropsy? I have wid every chillun--Oh, I buss (burst)\none time. Buss here.\" (Illustrating by drawing line across stomach.)\n\"Till it get to my groin it stop! Every time I get family I swell. Never\nhave a doctor 'Granny' for me yet. My Mary good old Granny. Catch two\nset 'o twin for me. Isaac and Rebecca; David and Caneezer.\n\n\"Sell all my fowl and ting--five dollars--me and old man two come to\ntown to we chillun.\n\n\"Been Marlboro four year. Yankee foot where they put on stirrup red. Most\nstand lak a Mr. Smoak--Big tall--Abraham Lincoln own son Johnny! 'You\njess as free as ribbon on my hat!' That what he say. I been weave.\nSheckle!\" (Aunt Ellen worked foot and hand and mouth in illustrating how\nthe shuttle worked back and forth--and the music it made).\n\n\"Conch? Eat 'm many time! Take 'em bile! Grind 'em up!\n\n\"Welcome Beas? She son get kill in Charston, Welcome Beas son courting\nmy gal.\n\n\"Tom Duncan? He child to me. He wife Susannah. I know duh fambly. I gone\nknock to duh door.\n\n\"Come in! Come in! Come in! 'Here duh beard!\" (And Aunt Ellen measured\non her chest to show how long Dr. Flagg's beard was).\n\n\n<tb>\n\n  \"Old Daddy Rodgers and merry wuz she!\n  The old man wuz cripple\n  And Mary wuz blind.\n  Keep you hat on you head.\n  Keep you head warm\n  And set down under that sycamore tree!\n  My kite! My kite!\n  My kite! My kite!\n  Two oxen tripe!\n  Two open dish 'o cabbage!\n  My little dog!\n  My spotted hawg!\n  My two young pig a starving!\n  Cow in the cotton patch. Tell boy call dog drive pig out cotton!\n  Heah duh song;\n  Send Tom Taggum\n  To drive Bone Baggum\n  Out the world 'o wiggy waggum!\"\n\n(This last song chanted out by Aunt Eleanor Godfrey, age 99, is really a\ngem. She said 'Bone Baggum' boney old white cow. 'Wiggy waggum' is a\npicture word making one see the soft, wagging tufts of white cotton.)\n\n  Given by Aunt Eleanor Godfrey\n           Age 99 (100 come seben of Oct.)\n             June 25th, 1937\n             Conway, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1655\n  Genevieve W. Chandler\n  Georgetown County, S.C.\n\n  FOLKLORE.\n\n  (MOM ELLEN SINGS * * *)\n  BONE BAGGUM (Bag o' bones?)\n\n\n  Send Tom Taggum (a man)\n  To drive Bone Baggum (a boney critter)\n  Out the world o' wiggly waggum. (cotton patch)\n\n<tb>\n\n  Rock-a-bye!\n  Rock-a-bye!\n  Down come baby cradle and all!\n  Roll 'em! Roll 'em! Roll 'em!\n  Roll 'em and boll' em!\n  And put 'em in the oven!\n\n<tb>\n\n\"I KNOW when I was a woman Ben was boy!\" (Ben now 88)\n\n<tb>\n\n\"Go to writin'!\":\n\n  If you want to know my name\n  Go to Uncle Amos house.\n  Big foot nigger and he six foot high.\n  Try to bussin' at my waterfall! (Kissin' her waterfall--head-dress.)\n  Oh, the gay gal\n  Settin' on the rider (fence 'rider' on 'stake and rider fence')\n  Gay gal waterfall.\n  Don't tech (touch) my waist\n  But bounce my shirt!\n  Don't touch my waterfall!\"\n\n\"I sing that sing to 'em and man buss out and cry! 'My God! You talk\nME?' I ain't want him! I kick him with that same word.\n\n\"They was Zazarus and Lavinia. Dead can't wash for myself. I go wash and\nlay Lavinia out. And he husband wanter (want to) marry with me. I kick\nhim with that same sing. Hint to wise. If he couldn't understand that he\ncouldn't understand nothing.\n\n\"Mr. Godfrey my last husband, he worth all the two I got. I have the\nchillun. Wenus, Jane, Patient, Kate, Harry, Edmund, Jeemes--\"\n\n  =Source:= Mom Ellen Godfrey\n          Age 100 October 1937\n          Conway, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  S-260-264-N\n  Project #1655\n  Augustus Ladson\n  Charleston, S.C.\n\n  Page 1\n  No. Words 1654\n\n  MASTER WAS NEVER SO MOROCIOUS\n  SLAVES CALLED COW-MEAT FISH\n  SLAVE BORN WITH A 'CALL'\n\n\nI come frum Mt. Pleasant an' was bo'n January 15, 1855 on Mr. Lias\nWinning plantation on the Cooper River. I wus den six years ole w'en the\nwar broke out an' could 'member a good many things. My ma an' pa bin\nname Anjuline an' Thomas Goodwater who had eight boys an' eight gals. I\nuse to help my gran'ma 'round the kitchen who wus the cook for the\nfambly. I am the older of the two who is alive. Peter, the one alive,\nlive on my place now, but I ain't hear from dem for two years. I don'\nknow for certain dat he's alive or not.\n\nIn slavery the people use to go an' catch possums an' rabbits so as to\nhab meat to eat. De driber use to shoot cows an in de night de slaves go\nan' skin um an' issue um 'round to all the slaves, 'speciall w'en cows\ncome frum anodder plantation. He go 'round an' tell the slaves dey\nbetter go an' git some fish 'fore all go. Any time any one say e hab\nfish it wus understood e mean cow-meat. Our boss ain't nebber cetch on\nnor did e ebber miss any cow; Gie Simmons, de collud driber wus under\nSam Black, the white overseer. Sam Black wusn't mean, he jus' had to\ncarry out orders of Lias Winning, our master. Dere wus a vegetable\ngarden dat had things for the year round so we could hab soup an' soup\ncould be in the Big House.\n\nOne day w'en I wus 'bout fourteen I did supin an' ma didn' like it. A\nbunch of gals bin home an' ma wheel my short over my head an' start to\nbe at me right 'fore the gals. Dey begged her not to lick me an' she got\nmad jus' for dat. I couldn't help myself cuz she tie' de shirt over my\nhead wood a string, my han's an' all wuz tie' in de shirt wood the\nstring. In hot wedder gals an' boys go in dere under shirts an' nothin'\nelse.\n\nBoys in dose days could fight but couldn' throw any one on the groun'.\nWe had to stan' up an eider beat or git beat.\n\nI wus married in 1872 to Catharine, my wife. At our weddin' we had\nplenty to eat. There wus possums, wine, cake, an' plenty o' fruits. I\nhad on a black suit, black shoes, white tie an' shirt. Catharine had on\nall white. I stay' wood Catharine people for a year 'til I wus abled to\nbuil' on my lan'. I am a fadder of nineteen chillun; ten boys an' nine\ngals; only two now livin'.\n\nLias Winning wusn' a mean man. He couldn' lick pa cus dey grow up\ntogedder or at least he didn' try. But he liked his woman slave. One day\nma wus in da field workin' alone an' he went there an' try to rape 'er.\nMa pull his ears almos' off so he let 'er off an' gone an' tell pa he\nbetter talk to ma. Pa wus workin' in the salt pen an' w'en Mr. Winning\ntell him he jus' laugh cus e know why ma did it.\n\nDere wus a fambly doctor on de plantation name James Hibbins. My eye use\nto run water a lot an' he take out my eye an' couldn' put it back in,\ndats why I am blin' now. He ax ma an' pa not to say anything 'bout it\ncus he'd lost his job an' hab his license take 'way. So ma an' pa even\ndidn' say anything even to Mr. Winning as to the truth of my blin'ness.\n\nI wus by the \"nigger quarters\" one day w'en Blake, the overseer start'\nto lick a slave. She take the whip frum him an' close de door an' give\nhim a snake beatin'.\n\nOur boss had 'bout shree hund'ed acres o' lan' an' ober a hund'ed\nslaves. De overseer never wake de slaves. Dey could go in the fiel' any\ntime in the mornin' cus ebery body wus given their tas' work on Monday\nMornin'. No body neber work w'en it rain or cole. Nuttin' make Lias\nWinning so mad as w'en one would steal; it make him morocious. Any one\nhe catch stealin' wus sure to git a good whippin'. He didn' like for any\none to fight eider.\n\nDey tell me dat w'en slaves wus shipped to New Orleans dey had to be\ndress-up in nice clothes. My pa could read an' write cus he live' in the\ncity here. His missus teach him.\n\nIsaac Wigfall run 'way an' went to Florida an' meet a white man on a\nhorse with a gun. He ax de man for a piece o' tobacco. The man give him\nde gun to hole while he git the tobacco for him. Isaac take the gun an'\npoint it at the man an' ax 'im, \"you know wha' in dis gun?\" De man got\nfrighten' an' he tell de man \"you better be gone or I'll empty it in\nyou.\" The man gone an' come back wood a group o' men an' houndogs. He'd\njus' make it to de river 'fore the dogs cetch him. He had a piece o'\nlight-wood knot an' ebery time a dog git near he hit um on de neck an'\nkill' all o' them. The men went back to git more help an' dogs but w'en\ndey git back Isaac wus gone.\n\nDere wus a collud church fifteen miles frum Mt. Pleasant w'ere we went\nto service. De preacher wus name' John Henry Doe. I use to like to sing\ndis song:\n\n  Run away, run away\n  Run away, run away\n  Sojus of the cross.\n\n  CHORUS\n\n  Hole on, hole on\n  Hole on, hole on\n  Hole on, hole on\n  Hole on, sojus of the cross.\n\nMa too use to sing dat song.\n\nDere use to be dances almos' ebery week an' the older boys an' gals walk\ntwelve miles dis to be dere. Some time there wus a tamborine beater,\nsome time dey use' ole wash tubs an' beat it wood sticks, an' some time\ndey jus' clap their han's. W'en any one die dey wus bury in the mornin'\nor early afternoon.\n\nI always play wood ghost cus I wus bo'n with a \"call\". I kin see the\nghost jus' is plain is ebber. Some time I see some I know an' again\nothers I don' know. Only thing you can' see their feet cus dey walk off\nde ground. W'en I use to see dem my sister would put sand on de fire den\ndey would go an' I wouldn' see any for a long time. One mornin' my uncle\nwus passin' a church an' a ghost appear on the porch. My uncle had a dog\nwood 'im. He start to run an' the dog start to run too, an' down the\nroad dey went. He didn' hab on anything but his shirt an' he say he run\nso fas' 'til the wind had his shirt-tail stif as a board. He couldn' out\nrun the dog, nor could the dog out run 'im.\n\nDis is a spiritual dey use to sing durin' slavery:\n\n  Climb up de walls of Zion\n  Ah, Lord,\n  Climb up de walls of Zion\n  Ah, Lord, Climbin' up de walls of Zion\n  Ah, Lord.\n  Climbin' up de walls of Zion\n  Ah, Lord,\n  Great camp meetin' in the promise lan'.\n\nMy pa use to sing dis song:\n\n  See w'en' 'e rise\n  Rise an' gone,\n  See w'en' 'e rise\n  Rise an' gone.\n\n  Gone to Galilee on a Sunday morning.\n  Oh, my Jesus rise an' gone to Galilee\n  On a Sunday morning.\n\nDey use to sing dis in experience meetin's:\n\n  Go round, go round\n  Look at the mornin' star,\n  Go round, go round\n  Got a soul to save.\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Wuan' for ole satan\n  I wouldn' have to pray,\n  Satan broke God's Holy Law\n  I got a soul to save.\n\nDey use to sing dis too:\n\n  Room Anough, room anough\n  Room anough, room anough\n  Room anough in de Heaven I know,\n  I can't stay away,\n  Room anough in de Heaven I know,\n  I can't stay away.\n\n  =Source:=\n\n  Interview with Thomas Goodwater, 108 Anson Street.\n\n  P.S. The variations of words and sentences describe interviews with\n  individuals, naturally.\n\n\n\n\n  Code No.\n  Project, 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, August 31, 1937\n\n  No. Words ----\n  Reduced from ---- words\n  Rewritten by ----\n  Page 1.\n\n  CHARLIE GRANT\n  Ex-Slave, 85 Years\n\n\n\"I born de 24th day of February, 1852 bout 11/2 miles of Mars Bluff. My\nfather, Western Wilson, belonged to Col. William Wilson en my mamma name\nChrisie Johnson. She belonged to Dr. William Johnson en we stay dere wid\nhim four or five years after freedom. Dr. Johnson old home still standin\nyonder. It de Rankin home. I drive carts under dat house lots of times\nin slavery time.\" (The house is built high off the ground.)\n\n\"Dr. Johnson was a mighty able man, a stiff one, able one. He kill one\nhundred head of hogs to feed his niggers wid. Oh, I don' know how many\nacres of land in his plantation, but I reckon dere be bout 1,000 or more\nacres of land. He have slave house all de way from de side of his house\nto Tyner. De overseer stay on de lower end of street dat bout 3/4 mile\nlong en all de niggers house up from de overseer to Dr. Johnson house.\nOver hundreds of dem dere.\"\n\n\"Dr. Johnson en his wife was good to dey niggers as dey could want\nanybody to be. Had plenty to eat en plenty clothes to wear all de time.\nHe give all de slaves out something on Saturday or he give dem more any\ntime dey needed it. Just go en say, 'Boss, I ain' got no rations en I\nneed some.' Dey give us meat en bread en molasses to eat mostly, but\ndidn' have no wheat flour den. Dey plant 10 or 20 acres of sprangle top\ncane en make de molasses en sugar out dat. Bill Thomas mash it together\nen cook it for de molasses. Den he take cane en cook it down right low\nen make sugar, but it wasn' like de sugar you buy at de store now days.\nOh, yes, de slaves had dey own garden dat dey work at night en\nespecially moonlight nights cause dey had to work in de field all day\ntill sundown. Mamma had a big garden en plant collards en everything\nlike dat you want to eat.\"\n\n\"All de niggers dat live in de quarters had bunk beds to sleep on what\nwas thing dat have four legs en mattress put on it. Have mixed bed dat\ndey make out of cotton en shucks. De boy chillun have shuck bed en de\ngirl chillun have cotton bed.\"\n\n\"De peoples bout dere have good clothes to wear in dat day en time. Dey\nwas homemade clothes. My mamma spin en send dem to de loom house en den\ndey dye dem wid persimmon juice en different things like dat to make all\nkind of colors. Dey give us cotton suit to wear on Sunday en de nicest\nleather shoes dat dey make right dere at home. Clean de hair off de\nleather just as clean as anything en den de shoemaker cut en sew de\nshoes. Vidge Frank father de shoemaker. Vidge Frank live down dere at\nClaussen dis side de planing mill.\"\n\n\"I hear dem tell dat my grandparents come from Africa. Dey fooled dem to\ncome or I calls it foolin dem. De peoples go to Africa en when dey go to\ndock, dey blow whistle en de peoples come from all over de country to\nsee what it was. Dey fool dem on de vessel en give dem something to\neat. Shut dem up en don' let dem get out. Some of dem jump over board en\ntry to get home, but dey couldn' swim en go down. Lots of dem still lost\ndown dere in de sea or I reckon dey still down dere cause dey ain' got\nback yet. De peoples tell dem dey gwine bring dem to a place whe' dey\ncan live.\"\n\n\"I tellin you dat was a good place to live in slavery time. I didn' have\nto do nothin but mind de sheep en de cows en de goats in dat day en\ntime. All de slaves dat was field hands, dey had to work mighty hard. De\noverseer, he pretty rough sometimes. He tell dem what time to get up en\nsound de horn for dat time. Had to go to work fore daybreak en if dey\ndidn' be dere on time en work like dey ought to, de overseer sho whip\ndem. Tie de slaves clear de ground by dey thumbs wid nigger cord en make\ndem tiptoe en draw it tight as could be. Pull clothes off dem fore dey\ntie dem up. Dey didn' care nothin bout it. Let everybody look on at it.\nI know when dey whip my mamma. Great God, in de mornin! Dey sho had\nwhippin posts en whippin houses too in dem days, but didn' have no jail.\nI remember dey whipped dem by de gin house. De men folks was put to de\npost what had holes bored in it whe' dey pull strings through to fasten\ndem up in dere. Dey catch nigger wid book, dey ax you what dat you got\ndere en whe' you get it from. Tell you bring it here en den dey carry\nyou to de whippin post for dat. No men folks whip me. Women folks whip\nme wid four plaitted raw cowhide whip.\"\n\n\"Niggers went to white peoples church in dat day en time. Dr. Johnson\nride by himself en bought carriage for niggers to drive his girls dere\nto Hopewell Church below Claussen. You know whe' dat is, don' you? Miss\nLizzie (Dr. Johnson's daughter) good teacher. She sent me to de gallery\nen I recollect it well she told me one Sunday dat if I didn' change my\nchat, dey were gwine to whip me. She say, 'You chillun go up in de\ngallery en behave yourself. If you don', I gwine beat you Monday.' Dey\nhad catechism what dey teach you en she say, 'Charlie, who made you?' I\ntell her papa made me. She ax me another time who made me en I tell her\nde same thing another time. I thought I was right. I sho thought I was\nright. She took de Bible en told me God made me. I sho thought papa made\nme en I go home en tell papa Miss Lizzie say she gwine beat me Monday\nmornin. He ax me what I been doin cuttin up in church. I say, 'I wasn'\ndoin nothin. She ax me who made me en I tell her you made me.' He told\nme dat God made me. Say he made Miss Lizzie en he made everybody. Ain'\nnobody tell me dat fore den, but I saved my beaten cause I changed my\nchat.\"\n\n\"I hear tell bout de slaves would run away en go to Canada. Put nigger\ndogs after dem, but some of dem would get dere somehow or another. If I\nwas livin on your place, I wouldn' dare to go to another house widout I\nhad a permit from my Massa or de overseer. We slip off en de patroller\ncatch en whip us. One time dey give my daddy a quilting en ax several\nwomen to come dere. Dey had a lot of chillun to cover en give a quilting\nso dey can cover dem up. Mistress tell dem to give so en so dis much en\ndat much scraps from de loom house. I was settin dere in de corner en\ndey blow cane. Common reed make music en dance by it. Dat de only way\nniggers had to make music. Dance en blow cane dat night at grandmother's\nhouse (Wilson place). Dey was just a pattin en dancin en gwine on. I was\nsittin up in de corner en look up en patrol was standin in de door en\ncall patrol. When dey hear dat, dey know something gwine to do. Dey took\nUncle Mac Gibson en whip him en den dey take one by one out en whip dem.\nWhen dey got house pretty thin en was bout to get old man Gibson, he\ntake hoe like you work wid en put it in de hot ashes. People had to cut\nwood en keep fire burnin all de year cause didn' have no matches den.\nOld man Gibson went to de door en throwed de hot ashes in de patrol\nface. Dey try to whip us, but de old man Gibson tell dem dey got no\nright to whip his niggers. We run from whe' we at to our home. Dey tried\nfour year to catch my daddy, but dey couln' never catch him. He was a\nslick nigger.\"\n\n\"I don' remember what kind of medicines dey use in slavery time, but I\nknow my mamma used to look after de slaves when dey get sick. Saw one\nchild bout year or two old took sick en died en Lester Small want me to\ndig it up en carry him to de office. I expect dey gwine be dere, but\ndey never come. I took it out en laid it on de bank in sheet dat dey\ngive me. Den I picked it up en carried it in de house. It smeared me up\nright bad, but I carried it in de office en he look at it. He put it in\nde corner en say, 'You can go.' Pay me $2.00. Dr. Johnson want to cut\ndat child open. Dat what he want wid it. I know dis much dat dey use\ndifferent kind of roots for dey medicines en I see dem wear dime in dey\nclothes dat dey tell me was to keep off de rheumatism. Send to\nPhiladelphia to get dat kind of dime.\"\n\n\"I tellin you time hard dese days. I had stroke here en can' work, but I\ndoin de best I can. Miss Robinson help me daughter do de best she can.\nDo washin en ironin. Miss Robinson say she gwine give me old age\npension. I ask Miss Robinson, I say, 'I livin now en can' get nothin. If\nI die, would you help my chillun bury me?' She say, 'I will do de best I\ncan to help put you away nice.' Miss Robinson good lady.\"\n\n  =Source:= Charlie Grant, ex-slave, age 85, Florence, S.C.\n\n          Personal interview by H. Grady Davis and Mrs.\n          Lucile Young, Florence, S.C., May 11, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Phoebe Faucette\n  Hampton County\n\n  Folklore\n\n  [HW: Grant, Rebecca Jane]\n  NINETY TWO YEAR OLD NEGRO TELLS OF EARLY LIFE AS SLAVE\n\n\nIn Hampton County at Lena, S.C., there lives an old negro woman who has\njust passed her ninety-second birthday, and tells of those days long ago\nwhen man was bound to man and families were torn apart against their\nwill. Slowly she draws the curtain of Time from those would-be-forgotten\nscenes of long ago that cannot ever be entirely obliterated from the\nmemory.\n\n\"Well, just what is it you want to hear about, Missus?\"\n\n\"Anything, everything, Auntie, that you remember about the old days\nbefore the Civil War. Just what you've told your grand-daughter, May,\nand her friend, Alice, here, many times, is what I want to hear.\"\n\n\"Tell her, mamma,\" said Alice with a whoop of laughter, \"about the time\nwhen your Missus sent you to the store with a note!\"\n\n\"Oh that! Not that Missus?\"\n\n\"Yes, Auntie that!\"\n\n\"Well, I was just a little girl about eight years old, staying in\nBeaufort at de Missus' house, polishing her brass andirons, and\nscrubbing her floors, when one morning she say to me, 'Janie, take this\nnote down to Mr. Wilcox Wholesale Store on Bay Street, and fetch me back\nde package de clerk gie (give) you.'\n\n\"I took de note. De man read it, and he say, 'Uh-huh'. Den he turn away\nand he come back wid a little package which I took back to de Missus.\n\n\"She open it when I bring it in, and say, 'Go upstairs, Miss!'\n\n\"It was a raw cowhide strap bout two feet long, and she started to\npourin' it on me all de way up stairs. I didn't know what she was\nwhippin' me bout; but she pour it on, and she pour it on.\n\n\"Turrectly she say, 'You can't say \"Marse Henry\", Miss? You can't say,\n\"Marse Henry\"!'\n\n\"Yes'm. Yes'm. I kin say. 'Marse Henry'!\n\n\"Marse Henry was just a little boy bout three or four years old. Come\nbout halfway up to me. Wanted me to say Massa to him, a baby!\"\n\n\"How did you happen to go to Beaufort, Auntie? You told me you were\nraised right here in Hampton County on the Stark Plantation.\"\n\n\"I was, Miss. But my mother and four of us children (another was born\nsoon afterwards) were sold to Mr. Robert Oswald in Beaufort. I was de\noldest, then there was brother Ben, sister Delia, sister Elmira, and\nbrother Joe that was born in Beaufort. My father belong to Marse Tom\nWillingham; but my mother belong to another white man. Marse Tom was\nalways trying to buy us so we could all be together, but de man wouldn't\nsell us to him. Marse Tom was a Christian gentleman! I believe he seek\nreligion same as any colored person. And pray! Oh, that was a blessed\nwhite man! A blessed white man! And Miss Mamie, his daughter, was a\nChristian lady. Every Wednesday afternoon she'd fill her basket with\ncoffee, tea, sugar, tobacco and such things, and go round to de houses\nwhere dere was old folks or sick folks. She'd give um de things; and\nshe'd read de scriptures to um, and she'd kneel down and pray for um.\nBut we had to leave all de folks we knew when we was took to Beaufort.\n\n\"All of us chillun, too little to work, used to have to stay at de\n'Street'. Dey'd have some old folks to look after us--some old man, or\nsome old woman. Dey'd clean off a place on de ground near de washpot\nwhere dey cooked de peas, clean it off real clean, den pile de peas out\ndere on de ground for us to eat. We'd pick um up in our hands and begin\nto eat. Sometimes dey'd cook hoe cakes in a fire of coals. Dey'd mix a\nlittle water with de meal and make a stiff dough that could be patted\ninto shape with de hands. De cakes would be put right into the fire, and\nwould be washed off clean after they were racked out from de coals.\nSometimes de Massa would have me mindin' de birds off de corn. But 'fore\nI left Beaufort, I was doin' de Missus' washin' and ironin'. I was\nfifteen years old when I left Beaufort, at de time freedom was declared.\nWe were all reunited den. First, my mother and de young chillun, den I\ngot back. My uncle, Jose Jenkins come to Beaufort and stole me by night\nfrom my Missus. He took me wid him to his home in Savannah. We had been\ndone freed; but he stole me away from de house. When my father heard\nthat I wasn't wid de others, he sent my grandfather, Isaac, to hunt me.\nWhen he find me at my uncle's house, he took me back. We walked all\nback--sixty-four miles. I was foundered. You know if'n a foundered\nperson will jump over a stick of burning lightwood, it will make um feel\nbetter.\"\n\n\"Tell us, Auntie, more about the time when you and your mother and\nbrothers and sisters had just gone to Beaufort.\n\n\"Well mam. My mother say she didn't know a soul. All de time she'd be\nprayin' to de Lord. She'd take us chillun to de woods to pick up\nfirewood, and we'd turn around to see her down on her knees behind a\nstump, aprayin'. We'd see her wipin' her eyes wid de corner of her\napron, first one eye, den de other, as we come along back. Den, back in\nde house, down on her knees, she'd be aprayin'. One night she say she\nbeen down on her knees aprayin' and dat when she got up, she looked out\nde door and dere she saw comin' down out de elements a man, pure white\nand shining. He got right before her door, and come and stand right to\nher feet, and say, \"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah!\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir.\"\n\n\"What is you frettin' bout so?\"\n\n\"Sir. I'm a stranger here, parted from my husband, with five little\nchillun and not a morsel of bread.\"\n\n\"You say you're parted from your husband? You're not parted from your\nhusband. You're jest over a little slash of water. Suppose you had to\nundergo what I had to. I was nailed to the Cross of Mount Calvary. And\nhere I am today. Who do you put your trust in?\n\n\"My mother say after dat, everything just flow along, just as easy. Now\nmy mother was an unusually good washer and ironer. De white folks had\nbeen sayin', 'Wonder who it is that's makin' de clothes look so good.'\nWell, bout dis time, dey found out; and dey would come bringin' her\nplenty of washin' to do. And when dey would come dey would bring her a\npan full of food for us chilluns. Soon de other white folks from round\nabout heard of her and she was gettin' all de washin' she needed. She\nwould wash for de Missus durin' de day, and for de other folks at night.\nAnd dey all was good to her.\n\n\"One day de Missus call her to de house to read her something from a\nletter she got. De letter say that my father had married another woman.\nMy mother was so upset she say, 'I hope he breaks dat woman's jawbone.\nShe know she aint his lawful wife.' And dey say her wish come true. Dat\nwas just what happened.\n\n\"But we all got together again and I thanks de good Lord. I gets down on\nmy knees and prays. I thanks de Lord for His mercy and His goodness to\nme every day. Every time I eats, I folds my hands and thanks Him for de\nfood. He's de one that sent it, and I thanks Him. Then, on my knees, I\nthanks him.\n\n\"Aunt Jane receives an ample pension since her husband fought on the side\nwith the Federals. He was known as James Lawton before the war, but\nbecame, James Lawton Grant after the war.\"\n\n  =Source:= Mrs. Delacy Wyman, Mgr. Pyramid Pecan Grove, Lena S.C.\n          Rebecca Jane Grant, ninety-two year old resident of\n          Lena, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Phoebe Faucette\n  Hampton County\n\n  REBECCA JANE GRANT\n\n\n\"Yes, Ma'am,\" Aunt Beckie said, \"I remembers you, you Miss Mamie\nWillingham' granddaughter. She was sure a good woman. She'd fill her\nbuggy with sugar, tea, coffee and tobacco, and go every Thursday to see\nthe sick and old people. She wouldn't except none--white or colored.\nNo'm she wouldn't except none! That's the kind of folks you sprung from.\nYou's got a good heritage.\n\n\"The most of what I remembers before the war was when I was in Beaufort.\nThey used to take care of the widows then. Take it by turns. There was a\nlady, Miss Mary Ann Baker, whose husband had been an organist in the\nchurch. When he died they would all take turns caring for Miss Mary Ann.\nI remember I'd meet her on de street and I'd say, 'Good mornin' Miss\nMary Ann.' 'Morning Janie.' 'How you this mornin' Miss Mary Ann?' She'd\nsay, 'Death come in and make alterations, and hard living make\ncontrivance.' She'd take any old coat, or anything, and make it over to\nfit her children, and look good, too. She was a great seamstress. You'd\nsee her children when they turn out on de street and they looked the\nsame as some rich white people's children. Nearly all of her children\nwas girls. Had one boy, as well as I kin remember.\n\n\"Dey used to make de clothes for de slaves in de house. Had a seamstress\nto stay there in de house so de mistress could supervise the work. De\ncloth de clothes was made out of was hand woven. It was dyed in pretty\ncolors--some green, some blue, and pretty colors. And it was strong\ncloth, too. Times got so hard during de war dat de white folks had to\nuse de cloth woven by hand, themselves. De ladies would wear bustles,\nand hoops made out of oak. Old times, they'd make underbodies with\nwhalebone in it. There was something they'd put over the hoop they call,\n'Follow me, boy'. Used to wear the skirts long, with them long trains\nthat trail behind you. You'd take and tuck it up behind on some little\nhook or something they had to fasten it up to. And the little babes had\nlong dresses. Come down to your feet when you hold the baby in your lap.\nAnd embroidered from the bottom of the skirt all the way up. Oh, they\nwere embroidered up in the finest sort of embroidery.\n\n\"One day when I was nursing, my Missus' son--him and I been one age,\n'bout the same age--he go up town and buy a false face. Now I didn't see\nnuthin' like dat before! He put dat thing on and hide behind de door. I\nhad de baby in my arms, and when I start toward de door with de baby, he\njump out at me! I threw the baby clean under the bed I was so scared. If\nit had of killed it, it wouldn't been me. It'd been dem! Cause I ain't\nnever seen sech a thing before.\n\n\"You say what schoolin' de slaves got? They didn't get none--unless it\nwas de bricklayers and such like, and de seamstresses. If de masters\nwanted to learn them, they'd let 'em hold de book. But they wouldn't\nmiss de catechism. And they was taught they must be faithful to the\nMissus and Marsa's work like you would to your heavenly Father's work.\n\n\"Didn't have no colored churches. De drivers and de over-seers, de\nhouse-servants, de bricklayers and folks like dat'd go to de white\nfolk's church. But not de field hands. Why dey couldn't have all got in\nde church. My marsa had three or four hundred slaves, himself. And most\nof the other white folks had just as many or more. But them as went\nwould =sing=! Oh they'd sing! I remember two of 'em specially. One was a\nman and he'd sing bass. Oh, he'd roll it down! The other was a woman,\nand she'd sing soprano! They had colored preachers to preach to de field\nhands down in de quarters. Dey'd preach in de street. Meet next day to\nde marsa's and turn in de report. How many pray, how many ready for\nbaptism and all like dat. Used to have Sabbath School in de white\npeople's house, in de porch, on Sunday evening. De porch was big and\ndey'd fill dat porch! They never fail to give de chillun Sabbath School.\nLearn them de Sabbath catechism. We'd sing a song the church bells used\nto ring in Beaufort. You never hear it any more. But I remembers it.\"\n\nThe old woman sang the song for me as melodiously and beautifully as any\nyoung person. The words are:\n\n  \"I want to be an angel, and with an angel stand,\n  A crown upon my forehead, a harp within my hand.\n  Right there before my Saviour, so glorious and so bright,\n  I'll hear the sweetest music, and praise Him day and night.\"\n\n\"Old Parson Winborn Lawton used to preach for us after the war until we\ngot our church organized. He had a daughter named Miss Anna Lawton. At\nthe white folk's church at Lawtonville they had a colored man who used\nto sing for them, by the name of Moses Murray. He'd sit there back of\nthe organ and roll down on them bass. Roll down just like de organ roll!\nHe was Moses Lawton at that time, you know.\n\n\"You know how old I am? I'm in my 94th year. Ella has a dream book she\nlooks up my age in and tells me what luck I have, and all that. I\ngenerally had good luck.\"\n\n  =Source:= Rebecca Jane Grant, 93 years old. Lena, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-(1)\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg, S.C.\n  District No. 4.\n  May 26, 1937.\n\n  Edited by:\n  R.V. Williams\n\n  STORIES OF EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"Mos' everybody know my name. You gotta help me. Oh, yeah, dat's what I\ngoes by. It's Brack; dey calls me ole uncle Brack\".\n\n\"Look out, over dar!\" said a negro who was standing nearby. \"Uncle\nBrack, you know you is got mo' names dan dat. Why, everwhar you goes,\ndey calls you a different name.\"\n\n\"Shet up, you sassy-mouth nigger!\" Uncle Brack waved his stick as the\nyounger negro moved out of its reach. Uncle Brack walks with two sticks\nnearly all the time. He is bent almost double.\n\n\"He de greatest nigger rascal a-gwine,\" Uncle Brack said. \"He jest dream\nall de time, and dreams don't nebber amount to nothin'. Dem dreams what\nhe carries on wid in de daytime, dey is what makes him tell so many\nlies. De idea, talking like I has a different name everwhar I goes, when\nI don't go nowhar. Why, I can't hardly hobble to de sto'.\n\n\"Dey mus' help me. I took down sick in November. Mr. Rice sent me\nthings. You gov'ment folks ain't sont me much as Mr. Rice and de good\nwhite folks what likes me. I'se bawn ten years when Freedom come out.\nBenn seventy-odd years since Freedom, ain't it, Cap?\n\n\"Dr. Jim Gibbs was mighty good to me. You sees dat I'se a-gwine about\nnow. Dr. Gibbs come from Aiken to Union and set up a drug sto' whar\nCohen's is now. Dr. Gibbs was a Charleston man, but I is a Kentucky\ndarky. Dr. Gibbs brung me from Kentucky to Charleston when I was five\nyears old. My ma was de one dat dey bought. Dr. Gibbs' wife was a Bohen\nup in Kentucky. When Dr. Gibbs fetch his wife to Charleston, he bought\nmy ma from his wife's pa, and she fetch me along too.\n\n\"It ten o'clock befo' I can creep. Dat de reason dat I has to beg.\nWasn't fer my age, I wouldn't ax nobody fer nothing. De Lawd done spared\nme fer somethin' and I carries on de best dat I can. Doctor say he\ncouldn't do no good. Dat been five years ago de fust time I tuck down.\nDoctors steadies about money too much. I trustes de Lawd, He spare me to\ndis day. I can't hardly walk, and I jus' can't bear fer nothing to touch\ndis foot. I has to use two sticks to walk. (Uncle Brack punched his foot\nwith a stick; then looked up and saw two negro girls approaching.)\n\n\"As the girls got opposite Uncle Brack, he threw his stick in front of\nthem and they exclaimed, \"Is dat you, Uncle Brack? How did you get up\nhere?\" Uncle Brack replied, \"I never meant fer you to git by me. Jes\nkaize I'se ole, ain't no reason fer you not speaking to me.\" As the\ngirls walked on, Uncle Brack said, \"I flirts wid all de colored gals,\nand I also has a passing word for de white ladies as dey goes by.\"\n\n\"I used to work at the baker shop over dar when Mr. James' chilluns was\nlittle saplings. I'se gwine on eighty-six and dem big boys raise dey\nhats to me. White people has respec' for me kaize I ain't never been in\njail. I knows how to carry myself, and I specs to die dat way if I can.\nLil chile what jus' could talk good gived me a penny dis mawning.\n\n\"I used to could read. I learnt to read in Aiken, when school fust broke\nout to de colored people. Northern people teached me to read long time\nago. Now my eyes is dim.\"\n\n  =Source:= JOHN GRAVES, (Col. 86) N. Church St., Union, S.C.\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (2/27/37)\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg, Dist. 4:\n  Sept. 8, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES OF EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"Miss Alice Cannon give me my age from de foundation of my mother. Dey\nbeen bringing my things out to me--is dat what you'se doing, setting\ndown here by me? I was born on de first Christmas Day, I means de 25th\nof December, 1855; in Newberry County on de Sam Cannon place. You had to\nturn off de Ashford Ferry Road about seven and a half miles from de town\nof Newberry. My mother was Frances Cannon of near Cannon Creek Church.\n\n\"I'll try to give you a straight definition. Old man Sim Gallman was my\nold missus' brother; she was Miss Viny Cannon. My boss was overseer for\nMr. Geo. Gallman. We was on Mr. George's place. When Mr. Gallman started\noverseeing, Mr. Sim Gallman come over dar for dem to take his place and\ncare for him.\n\n\"My boss, Sam Cannon, promised me a place. Miss Viny Cannon suckled me\nand her son Henry at de same time, me on one knee and Henry on t'other.\nDey calls me 'Timber'. Miss Sallie said to us atter Freedom, 'You ain't\ngot no marsters'. I cried. My Ma let me stay wid Miss Sallie. Mr. Henry\nGallman promised to marry Miss Sally Cannon, my young missus; but he\nwent to de war and never come back home no mo'. Mr. Jeff Gallman went,\nbut he come back wid one arm. Mr. Tom Gallman went and married his first\ncousin, Miss Addie Cannon; he never got to go to de war.\n\n\"My father was a full-blooded Indian from Virginia. He was a refugee.\nBut you know dat dey had a way of selling people back den. Somebody\ncaught him and sold him at one of dem sales. De man what bought him was\nMr. Jeff Buzzard. He went back to Virginia atter de surrender. I would\nnot go. He took another woman on de place, and my mother would not let\nme go. De woman's name dat he took was Sara Danby. She had two brothers\nand a sister--Samuel, Coffee, and Jenny.\n\n\"My mother was mixed Indian and African blood. My folks got 'stroyed up\nin a storm. My grandfather was named Isaac Haltiwanger. My grandmother,\nhis wife, was named Annie. Dey had one child who was my mother; her name\nFrances. My grandmother's name was Molly Stone.\n\n\"My parents, talking 'bout de Africans, how funny dey talked. Uncle\nSonny and uncle Edmund Ruff was two of de old 'uns. Old man Charles\nSlibe was de preacher. He was a Methodist. My father was a Baptist. His\nwhite folks, de Billy Caldwells, prepared de barn for him to preach to\ndere slaves. In dat day, all de Africans was low chunky fellers and raal\nblack. Dey said dat in Africa, little chilluns run 'round de house and\nde fattest one fall behind; den dey kill him and eat him. Dat's de worst\ndat I ever heard, O Lawd!\n\n\"I hates dat Missus didn't whip me mo' and let me be teached to read and\nwrite so dat I wouldn't be so ignant.\n\n\"For de neuralgia, take and tie two or three nutmegs around yo' neck.\nTie brass buttons around de neck to stop de nose a-bleeding.\"\n\nGreeley's house has four rooms and it is in great need of repair. It is\nbadly kept and so are the other houses in \"Fowler's Row\". He lives with\nhis wife, Eula, but she was not home during the visit.\n\n\"My house 'longs to a widder woman. She white but I does not know her\nname. Her collector is Mr. Wissnance (Whisenant). He got a office over\nhere on E. Main St., right up in de town. I rents by de month but I pays\nby de week--a dollar. De house sho is gwine down. Rest of de houses on\nde Row is repaired, but mine ain't yet; so she have Mr. Wissnance drap\noff twenty-five cents, and now I is paying only seventy-five cents a\nweek. Me and Eula has to go amongst de white folks fer bread and other\nlittle things. Ain't got no bread from 'Uncle Sam' since last August.\nSee my tater patch, wid knee-high vines.\n\n\"De case worker want to git my age and whar I's born. I told her jest\nwhat I told you. She say she got to have proof; so I told her to write\nMr. Cannon Blease who was de sheriff. I means de High Sheriff, fer nigh\nthirty years in Newberry. And does you know, she never even heard of Mr.\nCannon Blease. Never had no money but Mr. Blease knowed it, so he up and\nsont my kerrect age anyway. It turn't out jest 'zactly like I told you\nit was. What worried me de mostest, is dat she never knowed Mr. Cannon\nBlease. Is you ever heard of sech a thing as a lady like dat not knowing\nMr. Blease?\n\n\"Now Mr. Dr. Snyder is a man dat ain't setting here 'sleep. He's a\nmill'onaire, kaise he run Wofford College and it must take a million\ndollars to do dat, it sho must. My case worker knowed him.\n\n\"De case worker calls me 'Preacher', but I ain't got up to dat yet--I\nain't got dat fer. I been sold out twice in insurance. I give my last\ngrand-baby de name 'Roosevelt', and his daddy give him 'Henry'. His Ma\nnever give him none. Some folks loads down babies and kills dem wid\nnames, but his ma never wanted to do dat. So us jest calls him Henry\nRoosevelt. Us does not drap none and us does not leave none out.\n\n\"Went to church one night and left my pocketbook in a box on my mantel.\nHad $120.00 in it in paper, and $8 in silver. Some niggers dat had been\nwatching me broke down my do' dat I had locked. Dey took de $120 and\nleft de $8. Went home and I seed dat broke do'. I went straight to my\nmantel and see'd what was done. Dey never bothered de books and papers\nin dat box. Next morning, de nigger what lived next do' to me was gone.\nI went to a old fortune teller, a man; he say I know dat you lost a lot.\nDe one I thought got de money, he said, was not de right one. He say dat\nthree hobos got it. One had red hair, one sandy hair and de other had\ncurly hair. He say somebody done cited dem and dey sho going to be\ncaught dis very day. He say dat dey come from Asheville. But he was\nwrong, kaise dey ain't never caught no three hobos dat I ever learn't\nabout.\n\n\"One day when I was plowing, I struck de plow 'ginst something. My plow\nknocked off de handle. I heard money rattle. It ringed three times. I\ncouldn't see nothing, so I called my wife and son and dey looked, but we\nnever found but five cents. Never in my life did I hear of a bank in\nslavery times. Everybody buried dere money and sometimes dey forgot\nwhere dey put it. I thought dat I had run on some of dat money den, but\nI never found none. Lots of money buried somewhars, and folks died and\nnever remembered whar it was.\n\n\"A nigger republican leader got kilt. I hel't de hosses fer de Ku klux.\nGreat God-a-mighty, Dave and Dick Gist and Mr Caldwell run de sto' at de\nRutherford place in dem times. Feeder of dem hosses was Edmund Chalmers.\nMr. Dick say, 'Hello, Edmund, how come dem mules so po' when you got\ngood corn everywhar--what, you stealing corn, too?' Mr. Oatzel say,\n'Yes, I cotch him wid a basket on his shoulder.' 'Whar was you carrying\nit?' Edmund say, 'To Mr. Caldwell'. Mr. Caldwell say he ain't see'd no\ncorn. Dey took Edmund to de jail. He had been taking corn and selling it\nto de carpetbaggers, and dat corn was fer de Ku Klux hosses.\n\n\"Dere was a Mr. Brown, a white man, dat come up to live in Newberry. Dey\ncalled him a refugee. Us called him Mr. 'Refugee Brown'. He was sorter\ndestituted and not a bit up-to-date. He settled near de Gibson place. I\nfed de Gibson boys' fox-dogs about dat time fer dem.\n\n\"I want to git right wid you, now; so I can meet you lovely. In '73, I\nthought someone was shaking my house; I come out doors wid my gun; see'd\nwhite and colored coming together. Everybody was scared. All got to\nhollering and some prayed. I thought dat de earth gwine to be shook to\npieces by morning. I thought of old Nora (Noah).\n\n\"Dem Bible folks see'd a little hand-span cloud. Nora had done built him\na house three stories high. Dat little cloud busted. Water riz in de\nsecond story of de wicked king's palace. He sont fer de northern lady.\nWhen she come a-shaking and a-twisting in de room de king fell back in\nhis chair. He say dat he give her anything she want, all she got to do\nis ask fer it. She say to cut off John Wesley's head and bring it to\nher. De king had done got so suluctious dat he done it. Dat king and all\nof dem got drowned. Nora put a lot of things in de ark dat he could have\nleft out, sech as snakes and other varments; but de ark floated off\nanyhow. No sir, dat wasn't de Clifton flood, dat was Nora's flood.\"\n\n  =Source:= Sim Greeley (82), 280 Fowler's Row, Spartanburg, S.C.\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (8/27/37)\n\n\n\n\n  S-260-264-N\n  Project #1655\n  Augustus Ladson\n  Charleston, S.C.\n\n  Page I\n  No. Words: 1497\n\n  EX-SLAVE BORN DECEMBER 25, 1843\n\n  COWARD MASTER RAN OUT CIVIL WAR--LEAVING HIM\n\n\n\"I was bo'n in Charleston at 82 King Street, December 25, 1843. The\nhouse is still there who' recent owner is Judge Whaley. My ma an' pa was\nKate an' John Green. My ma had seben chillun (boys) an I am the last of\n'em. Their names was: Henry, Scipio, Ellis, Nathaniel, Hobart, Mikell,\nan' myself.\n\n\"From the South-East of Calhoun Street, which was then Boundry Street, to\nthe Battery was the city limit an' from the North-West of Boundry Street\nfor sev'als miles was nothin' but fa'm land. All my brothers was fa'm\nhan's for our master, George W. Jones. I did all the house work 'til the\nwar w'en I was given to Mr. Wm. Jones's son, Wm. H. Jones as his \"daily\ngive servant\" who' duty was to clean his boots, shoes, sword, an' make\nhis coffee. He was Firs' Lieutenant of the South Car'lina Company\nRegiment. Bein' his servant, I wear all his cas' off clothes which I was\nglad to have. My shoes was call' brogan that has brass on the toe. W'en\na slave had one of 'em you couldn't tell 'em he wasn't dress' to death.\n\n\"As the \"daily give servant\" of Mr. Wm. H. Jones I had to go to Virginia\ndurin' the war. In the battle at Richmond Gen'al Lee had Gen'al Grant\nalmos' beaten. He drive him almos' in the Potomac River, an' then take\nseven pieces of his artillery. W'en Gen'al Grant see how near defeat he\nwas, he put up a white flag as a signal for time out to bury his deads.\nThat flag stay' up for three weeks while Gen'al Grant was diggin'\ntrenches. In the meantime he get message to President Lincoln askin' him\nto sen' a reinforcement of sojus. Gen'al Sherman was in charge of the\nregiment who sen' word to Gen'al Grant to hol' his position 'til he had\ncaptur' Columbia, Savannah, burn out Charleston while on his way with\ndispatch of 45,000 men. W'en Gen'al Sherman got to Virginia, the battle\nwas renew' an' continued for seven days at the en' of which Gen'al Lee\nsurrender' to Gen'al Grant. Durin' the seven days fight the battle got\nso hot 'til Mr. William Jones made his escape an' it was two days 'fore\nI know he was gone. One of the Gen'als sen' me home an' I got here two\ndays 'fore Mr. William got home. He went up in the attic an' stay' there\n'til the war was end'. I carry all his meals to him an' tell him all the\nnews. Master show was a frighten' man; I was sorry for him. That battle\nat Richmond, Virginia was the wors' in American history.\n\nDr. George W. Jones, my master, ran a blockade. He had ships roamin' the\nsea to capture pirates ships. He had a daughter, Ellen, who was always\nkin' to the slaves. Master had a driver, William Jenkins, an' an' a'\noverseer, Henry Brown. Both was white. The driver see that the work was\ndone by the supervision of the overseer. Master' fa'm amounted to\ntwenty-five acres with 'bout eighteen slaves. The overseer blow the\nho'n, which was a conch shell, at six in the mornin' an' every slave\nbetter answer w'en the roll was call' at seven. The slaves didn't have\nhave to work on Sat'day.\n\nMr. Ryan had a private jail on Queen Street near the Planters Hotel. He\nwas very cruel; he'd lick his slaves to death. Very seldom one of his\nslaves survive' a whippin'. He was the opposite to Govenor Aiken, who\nlive' on the North-West corner of Elizabeth an' Judith Streets. He had\nseveral rice plantations, hundreds of his slaves he didn't know.\n\nNot 'til John C. Calhoun' body was carried down Boundry Street was the\nname change' in his honor. He is bury in St. Phillip Church yard, 'cross\nthe street with a laurel tree planted at his head. Four men an' me dig\nhis grave an' I clear' the spot w'ere his monument now stan'. The\nmonument was put up by Pat Callington, a Charleston mason. I never did\nlike Calhoun 'cause he hated the Negro; no man was ever hated as much as\nhim by a group of people.\n\nThe Work House (Sugar House) was on Magazine Street, built by Mr.\nColumbus C. Trumbone. On Charlmer Street is the slave market from which\nslaves was taken to Vangue Range an' auctione' off. At the foot of\nLawrence Street, opposite East Bay Street, on the other side of the\ntrolly tracks is w'ere Mr. Alonze White kept an' sell slaves from his\nkitchen. He was a slave-broker who had a house that exten' almos' to the\ntrain tracks which is 'bout three hundred yards goin' to the waterfront.\nNo train or trolly tracks was there then 'cause there was only one\nrailroad here, the Southern, an' the depot was on Ann Street w'ere the\nBaggin' Mill now is.\n\nW'en slaves run away an' their masters catch them, to the stockade they\ngo w'ere they'd be whipp' every other week for a number of mornins. An'\nde for God sake don' you be cotch with pencil an' paper, dat was a major\ncrime. You might as well had kill your master or missus.\n\nOne song I know I use to sing to the slaves w'en master went 'way, but I\nwouldn't be so fool as to let him hear me. What I kin 'member of it is:\n\n  Master gone away\n  But darkies stay at home,\n  The year of jubilee is come\n  An' freedom will begun.\n\nA group of white men was in Doctor Wilson' drug store one day w'en I\nwent to buy something. They commence' to ax me questions concernin' some\nhistorical happenin's an' I answer them all. So Dr. Wilson bet 'me that\nI couldn't tell who fired the firs' shot on Fort Sumter. I tell him I\ndid know an' he offer's dollar if I was right. I tell him I wasn't goin'\ntell 'less the dollar was given to one of the men. He did so an' I told\nthem it was Edward Ruffin who fired the firs' shot an' the dollar was\nmine. Anderson was determine' not to leave the fort but w'en 'bout four\nshells had hit the fort he was glad to be able to come out. W'en Sherman\nwas comin' through Columbia, he fired an' a shell lodged in the\nSouth-East en' ef the State House which was forbidden to be fix'. He was\ncomin' down Main Street w'en that happens'.\n\nThe firs' two people that was hung in Charleston was Harry an' Janie;\nhusban' an' wife who was slaves of Mr. Christopher Black. Mr. Black had\nthem whip' an' they planned to kill the whole fambly. They poison the\nbreakast one morning an' if two of the fambly han' been sleep, they too\nwould a been dead. The others die almos' instantly. An investigation was\nmade an' the poison discovered an the two slaves hung on the big oak in\nthe middle of Ashley Avenue.\n\nIf'en any in your owner' fambly was goin' to be married the slaves was\ndress' in linen clothes to witness the ceremony. Only special slaves was\nchosen to be at the weddin'. Slaves was alway ax how they like' the one\nwho was comin' in the [TN: two illegible words.] myself by sayin' nice things\n'bout the person en hate' the person at the same time.\n\nSlaves was always bury in the night as no one could stop to do it in the\nday. Ole boards was use' to make the coffin that was blackened with shoe\npolish.\n\nAfter the war I did garden work.\n\nMr. Stiles Bee on James Islan' give track of lan' to the Negroes for a\nschool jus' after the war; he put up a shed-like buildin' with a few\nchairs in it. It was at the place call Cut Bridge.\n\nHenry McKinley, a Negro who ran as congressman from Charleston jus'\nafter the war, lived on Calhoun Street. He was a mail carrier. He made\nan oath to Almighty God that if he was elected, he'd never betray his\ntrus'. In one of his speeches he said: \"I hope God 'ill paralize me\nshould I do as others have done.\" He was elected an' never see the\nCongress. One white man from Orangeburg, Samuel Dibbin, bought him out.\nAn' three weeks later McKinley took a stroke that carry him to a' early\ngrave. James Wright, a Negro judge of Charleston in 1876 sol' out for\nten thousand dollars--a dime of which he hasn't receive' yet. He 'cross\nthe bridge an' stay in a' ole house an' die there. The Probate Judge, A.\nWhipper, refused to give up the books of Judge Wright to the white man\nhe sell out to. Judge Whipper went in Beauford jail an' die there 'cause\nhe wouldn't give up the books. Wright kept such a poor record that Judge\nWhipper was ashamed to have them expose', an' that's why he didn't give\nup the books. Henry Smalls, owner of the Smalls Lot on Comin' Street was\nSecond Lieutenant on the Police Force. Henry Fordham was Second\nAssistant Lieutenant. Captain James Williams, Third Assistant Lieutenant\nwho become Captain of the Military Department an' forme' the Carolina\nLight Infantry which was recogniz' 'til Ben Tillman call' them on the\nGreen an' take their guns.\n\nI was janitor at Benedict College in Columbia for two years an' at\nClafflin in Orangeburg for twelve. The Presidents under which I worke'\nwas: Allen Webster, grandson of the dictionary maker; J.C. Cook; an' Dr.\nDuntin.\n\nNow all that is pass' an I'm livin' from han' to mouth. The banks took\nall my money an' I can't work. I do the collectin' for my lan'lord an'\nhe give me a room free. If it wasn't for that I don't know what I'd do.\n\n  =Source:=\n\n  Interview with Elijah Green, 156 Elizabeth Street, Charleston, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n  Sept. 7, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES OF EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"Cap, I was born on de Bonner place, five miles from Gaffney. Jest about\nde very first recollection dat sticks wid me, is my mammy a-hiding me\nwhen de Ku Klux was riding. She heard de hosses a-trotting and she\nrushed us out'n our beds and took us and buried us in de fodder out in\nour barn, and told us to be as quiet as possible. Both my parents went\nand hid in de edge of de woods. De Ku Klux passed on by widout even\nholding up dere hosses.\n\n\"During slavery my mother went to Mississippi wid her mistress,\nArtimesse Smith Ross. Soon atter Freedom dey come back to Smith's Ford\non de Pacolet. Steers pulled 'slides', wid de white folk belongings on\nde slides. We niggers went to meeting on de slides. De ends of de slides\nwas curved upward. When we got to meeting, we went under de brush\narbors. Fresh brush was kept cut so dat de sun would not shine through.\nUnder de arbors we sat on slabs and de preacher stood on de ground. We\nhad better meetings den dan dey have now. Everybody had better religion\nden dan dey does now. In dem days religion went further dan it does now.\nYes sir, religion meant something den, and went somewhars. My pappy rode\na ginny to preaching.\n\n\"Dere was not as much devilment as dere is now. Times was better fer\nniggers. One day last week I went to meeting and took dinner. We eat on\na slab table and had ice tea to drink. Meas was dere drinking on de\nside, and all other devilment dey could carry on in sight of de church.\nDe preacher eat wid us. Some eat out of dere buckets and would not come\nand be wid de crowd. Long time ago, nobody didn't act greedy like dat.\nGirls cut up like boys now, and nobody don't look down on dem.\n\n\"When I was a boy, girls acted like de old folks and dey did not carry\non. Nobody ever heard of a girl drinking and smoking den. If a girl made\na mistake in de old days she was throwed overboard. Why when I was\nlittle, us boys went in a-washing wid de girls and never thought nothing\n'bout it. We was most grown befo' we know'd a thing 'bout man and woman.\nI was fifteen years old when I got my first shoes and dey had brass\ntoes. We played ball wid de girls in de house, and sung songs like:\n'Goosey, Goosey Gander'.\"\n\n\"We had wheat bread only once a week,\" said Jesse Stevenson who came up\nand entered the conversation, \"and dat was on Sunday. I had a good time\nat Green's wedding. Green married Carrie Phillips who lived two miles\nabove me. We boys talked to de girls in school. We was around twenty\nyears old befo' we went to school. Of course dat was atter Freedom. De\nteacher would light on both of us fer talking across de books. Carrie\nwas about a year younger dan Green. Green, tell de gentleman\n(interviewer) what you said when you ax'd uncle Ben fer Carrie.\"\n\n\"I say,\" said Green, \"come out into de cool of de yard, please sir, if\nyou will uncle Ben; I has a question of de utmost concern to us both to\nlay at your feet'. Uncle Ben say, 'Look here, young nigger, don't you\nknow dat I ain't got no business gwine out in no night dew--what ails\nyou nohow?' I 'lows, 'Uncle Ben, it is a great matter of life and death\ndat I wishes to consult wid you over'. He clear his throat and spit in\nde fire and say, 'Wait, I'll come if it's dat urgent.' I took him under\na tree so dat no dew wouldn't drap on his head and give him a cold. I\nsaid, 'I want to marry your daughter, uncle Ben.' He say, 'Which one is\ndat dat you wishes, Sir?' 'De purttiest one, Carrie,' says I; 'dat is,\nif you ain't got no objection.'\n\n\"Befo' I axed fer Carrie I was loving two gals, but of course I drapped\nde other'n after uncle Ben give me a favorable answer. Me and Carrie\nmarried at Miss Twitty Thompson's house. Dat whar uncle Ben had raised\nCarrie. Carrie's missus give her a good wedding supper wid chicken, ham,\nturkey, cake and coffee, and tater salad. Seventy-five people is what\nMiss Twitty let Carrie ax to dat supper. All dem niggers was dere, too.\n\n\"I had on a grey suit wid big stripes in it. Carrie had on a white dress\nand a white veil. We used dat veil to keep de skeeters off'n our first\ntwo babies. It made de best skeeter net. We married one Sunday morning\nat 'leven o'clock and had dinner at twelve; give de preacher twenty-five\ncents. Never no one give us no presents. We stayed at my pappy's house\nfer years. He give us a bed, a bureau and a washstand. Carrie's folks\ngive us de bed clothes, and dats what we started on. Jesse, tell de\ngentleman what you did at my wedding.\"\n\n\"I stood wid Green,\" said Jesse Stevenson, \"and I had on a brown suit\nwid grey stripes gwine up and down it. Atter de ceremony all de gals\nwanted to swing me and Green, but Carrie grabbed him and shake her head\nand grin; so I got all de swinging.\"\n\nGreen said, \"Me and Carrie never went no whar atter our marriage. We\nstayed on wid my pappy and worked. We been doing well ever since.\"\n\n  =Source:= W. M. Green (71); Jesse Stevenson (71), Rt. 1, Gaffney, S.C.\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims 8/23/37\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Phoebe Faucette\n  Hampton County\n\n  Approx. 390 words\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  ADELINE GREY 82 YEAR OLD\n  Ex-Slave\n\n\nAdeline Grey seemed in good health as she sat before her granddaughter's\ncomfortable fire. She spoke quietly, with little excitement, and readily\nrecalled events of her early childhood.\n\n\"I was a girl when freedom was declare, an' I kin remember 'bout de\ntimes. My Ma used to belong to ole man Dave Warner. I remember how she\nused to wash, and iron, an' cook for de white folks durin' slavery time.\n\n\"I member when de Yankees come through. I wuz right to de old boss'\nplace. It wuz on de river side. Miss Jane Warner, she wuz de missus. De\nplace heah now--where all de chillun raise. Mr. Rhodes got a turpentine\nstill dere now--jes after you pass de house. Dey burn de ginhouse, de\nshop, de buggyhouse, de turkeyhouse an' de fowlhouse. Start to set de\ncornhouse afire, but my Ma say: 'Please sir, don't burn de cornhouse.\nGie it to me an' my chillun.' So dey put de fire out. I member when dey\nstarted to break down de smokehouse door, an' ole Missus come out an'\nsay: 'Please don't break de door open, I got de key.' So dey quit. I\nremember when dey shoot down de hog. I remember when dey shoot de two\ngeese in de yard. Dey choked my Ma. Dey went to her an' dey say; 'Where\nis all de white people gold an' silver?' My Ma say she don't know. 'You\ndoes know!' dey say, an' choke her till she couldn't talk. Dey went into\nde company room where de ole Miss wuz stayin' an' start tearin' up de\nbed. Den de captain come an' de ole Miss say to him: 'Please don't let\n'em tear up my bed,' an' de captain went in dere an' tell 'em 'Come\nout!'.\n\nDe ole Miss wasn't scared. But de young Miss May was sure scared. She\nwas courtin' at de time. She went off an' shut herself up in a room. De\nole Miss ask de captain: 'Please go in an' talk to de Miss, she so\nscared'. So he went in an' soon he bring her out. We chillun wasn't\nscared. But my brother run under de house. De soldiers went under dere\na-pokin' de bayonets into de ground to try to find where de silver\nburied, an' dey ran 'cross him. 'What you doin' under heah?' dey say.\n'I'se jes runnin' de chickens out, sir,' he say. 'Well, you kin go on\nout,' dey say. 'We aint gwine to hurt you.'\n\n'I remember when dey kill de hog an' cook 'em. Cook on de fire where de\nlittle shop been. Cook 'em an' eat 'em. Why didn't dey cook 'em on de\nstove in de house? Didn't have no stoves. Jes had to cook on de\nfireplace. Had an oven to fit in de fireplace. I remember when my Ma saw\nde Yankees comin' dat mornin' she grab de sweet potatoes dat been in dat\noven and throw 'em in de barrel of feathers dat stayed by de kitchen\nfireplace. Jes a barrel to hold chicken feathers when you pick 'em.\nDat's all we had to eat dat day. Dem Yankees put de meat in de sack an'\ngo on off. It was late den, 'bout dusk. I remember how de Missus bring\nus all 'round de fire. It was dark den.\n\n'Well chillun,' she say, 'I is sorry to tell you, but de Yankees has\ncarry off your Ma. I don't know if you'll ever see her any mo.' Den we\nchillun all start cryin.' We still a-sittin' dere when my Ma come back.\nShe say she slip behind, an' slip behind, slip behind, an' when she come\nto a little pine thicket by de side of de road, she dart into it, drop\nde sack of meat dey had her carryin, an' start out for home. When we had\nall make over her, we say to her den: 'Well why didn't you bring de sack\nof meat 'long wid you?'\n\nDey took de top off ole Marse John carriage, put meat in it, an' made\nhim pull it same as a horse. Carry him way down to Lawtonville, had to\npull it through de branch an' all. Got de rock-a-way back though--an' de\nole man. I remember dat well. Had to mend up de ole rock-a-way. An' it\nmade de ole man sick. He keep on sick, sick, until he died. I remember\nhow he'd say: 'Don't you all worry'. An' he'd go out in de orchard.\nDey'd say: 'Don't bother him! Jes let him be! He want to pray!' Atter a\nwhile he died an' dey buried him. His name was John Stafford. Dey Massa\nwasn't dere. I guess he was off to de war.\n\n\"But after freedom was de time when dey suffered more dan before. Dese\nchillun don't know how dey blessed. My Ma cooked for de white folks for\none year after freedom. I remember dey cook bread, an' dey ain't have\nnuthin' to eat on it. Was thankful for a cornbread hoecake baked in de\nfireplace. But dey had some things. Had buried some meat, an' some\nsyrup. An' dey had some corn. My Ma had saved de cornhouse. De rice burn\nup in de ginhouse. After freedom, dey had to draw de best thread out of\nde old clothes an' weave it again. Ole Miss had give my Ma a good moss\nmattress. But de Yankees had carry dat off. Rip it up, throw out de\nmoss, an' put meat in it. Fill it full of meat. I remember she had a red\nstriped shawl. One of de Yankee take dat an' start to put in under his\nsaddle for a saddle cloth. My brother go up to him an' say: 'Please sir,\ndon't carry my Ma's shawl. Dat de only one she got.' So he give it back\nto him. To keep warm at night, dey had to make dere pallet down by de\nfire; when all wood burn out, put on another piece. Didn't have nuthin'\non de bed to sleep on.\n\n\"I remember when de ole Miss used to have to make soap, out of dese red\noaks. Burn de wood, an' catches de ashes. Put de ashes in a barrel wid a\ntrough under it, an' pour de water through de ashes. If de lyewater dat\ncome out could cut a feather, it was strong.\n\n\"Used to weave cloth after freedom. Used to give a brooch (hank) or two\nto weave at night. I'se sometimes thread de needle for my Ma, or pick\nout de seed out de cotton, an' make it into rolls to spin. Sometimes I'd\nwork de foot pedal for my Ma. Den dey'd warp de thread. If she want to\ndye it, she'd dye it. She'd get indigo--you know dat bush--an' boil it.\nIt was kinder blue. It would make good cloth. Sometimes, de cloth wuz\nkinder strip, one strip of white, an' one of blue. I remember how dey'd\nwarp de thread across de yard after it wuz dyed, an' I remember seem' my\nMa throw dat shuttle through an' weave dat cloth. I member when de ole\nMiss made my Mamma two black dresses to wear through de winter. She'd\nkeep 'em clean; had two so she could change.\n\n\"I don't know why dey didn't burn de house. Must have been 'cause de\ncaptain wuz along. De house dere now. One of de chimney down. I don't\nthink dey ever put it up again. Colored folks are in it now.\n\n\"I never did know my Pa. He was sold off to Texas when I was young. My\nmother would say, 'Well, chillun, you aint never known your Pa. Joe\nSmart carry him off to Texas when he went. I don't guess you'll ever see\nhim.' My father wuz name Charles Smart. He never did come back. Joe\nSmart come back once, an' say dat our father is dead. He say our Pa had\nthree horses an' he want one of them to be sent to us chillun heah; but\nno arrangements had been made to get it to us. You see he had chillun\nout dere, too.\n\n\"Atter freedom, my Ma plow many a day, same as a man, for us chillun.\nShe work for ole man Bill Mars. Den she marry again. Part of de time dey\nwork for Mr. Benny Lawton, de one-arm man, what lost his arm in de war.\nDese chillun don't know what hard times is. Dey don't know how to\npreciate our blessings.\n\n  =Source:= Adeline Grey, 82-year old resident of Luray, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  Everett R. Pierce\n  Columbia, S.C.\n\n  INTERVIEW WITH FANNIE GRIFFIN\n  EX-SLAVE 94 YEARS.\n\n\n\"You wants me to tell you all what I 'members 'bout slavery in slavery\ntime? Well ma'am, I was just a young gal then and I's a old woman now,\nnigh on to ninety-four years old; I might be forgot some things, but\nI'll tell you what I 'members best.\n\nMy massa, Massa Joe Beard, was a good man, but he wasn't one of de\nrichest men. He only had six slaves, three men and three women, but he\nhad a big plantation and would borrow slaves from his brother-in-law on\nde 'joining plantation, to help wid de crops.\n\nI was de youngest slave, so Missy Grace, dats Massa Joe's wife, keep me\nin de house most of de time, to cook and keep de house cleaned up. I\nmilked de cow and worked in de garden too. My massa was good to all he\nslaves, but Missy Grace was mean to us. She whip us a heap of times when\nwe ain't done nothing bad to be whip for. When she go to whip me, she\ntie my wrists together wid a rope and put that rope thru a big staple in\nde ceiling and draw me up off de floor and give me a hundred lashes. I\nthink 'bout my old mammy heap of times now and how I's seen her whipped,\nwid de blood dripping off of her.\n\nAll that us slaves know how to do, was to work hard. We never learn to\nread and write nor we never had no church to go to, only sometimes de\nwhite folks let us go to their church, but we never jine in de singing,\nwe just set and listen to them preach and pray. De graveyard was right\nby de church and heap of de colored people was scared to go by it at\nnight, they say they see ghosts and hants, and sperits but I ain't\nnever see none, don't believe there is none. I more scared of live\npeople than I is dead ones; dead people ain't gwine to harm you.\n\nOur massa and missus was good to us when we was sick; they send for de\ndoctor right off and de doctor do all he could for us, but he ain't had\nno kind of medicine to give us 'cepting sperits of turpentine, castor\noil, and a little blue mass. They ain't had all kinds of pills and stuff\nthen, like they has now, but I believe we ain't been sick as much then\nas we do now. I never heard of no consumption them days; us had\npneumonia sometime tho'.\n\nYou wants to know if we had any parties for pastime? Well ma'am, not\nmany. We never was allowed to have no parties nor dances, only from\nChristmas Day to New Year's eve. We had plenty good things to eat on\nChristmas Day and Santa Claus was good to us too. We'd have all kinds of\nfrolics from Christmas to New Years but never was allowed to have no fun\nafter that time.\n\nI 'members one time I slip off from de missus and go to a dance and when\nI come back, de dog in de yard didn't seem to know me and he bark and\nwake de missus up and she whip me something awful. I sho didn't go to no\nmore dances widout asking her. De patarollers (patrollers) would ketch\nyou too, if you went out after dark. We most times stay at home at night\nand spin cloth to make our clothes. We make all our clothes, and our\nshoes was handmade too. We didn't have fancy clothes like de people has\nnow. I likes it better being a slave, we got along better then, than we\ndo now. We didn't have to pay for everything we had.\n\nDe worst time we ever had was when de Yankee men come thru. We had heard\nthey was coming and de missus tell us to put on a big pot of peas to\ncook, so we put some white peas in a big pot and put a whole ham in it,\nso that we'd have plenty for de Yankees to eat. Then when they come,\nthey kicked de pot over and de peas went one way and de ham another.\n\nDe Yankees 'stroyed 'most everything we had. They come in de house and\ntold de missus to give them her money and jewels. She started crying and\ntold them she ain't got no money or jewels, 'cepting de ring she had on\nher finger. They got awfully mad and started 'stroying everything. They\ntook de cows and horses, burned de gin, de barn, and all de houses 'cept\nde one massa and missus was living in. They didn't leave us a thing\n'cept some big hominy and two banks of sweet potatoes. We chipped up\nsome sweet potatoes and dried them in de sun, then we parched them and\nground them up and that's all we had to use for coffee. It taste pretty\ngood too. For a good while we just live on hominy and coffee.\n\nNo ma'am, we ain't had no celebration after we was freed. We ain't know\nwe was free 'til a good while after. We ain't know it 'til General\nWheeler come thru and tell us. After that, de massa and missus let all\nde slaves go 'cepting me; they kept me to work in de house and de\ngarden.\"\n\n  Home address:\n\n  2125 Calhoun St.\n  Columbia, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  June 22, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I will be 85 years old dis coming August. My master said I was 14 years\nold de August coming after freedom.\n\n\"My master was Billy Scott who had seven or eight hundred acres of land,\nand 48 slaves. He wouldn't have no white overseers, but had some nigger\nforemen dat sometimes whipped de niggers, and de master would whip dem,\ntoo. He was a fair man, not so good and not so mean. He give us poor\nquarters to live in, and sometimes plenty to eat, but sometimes we went\nhungry. He had a big garden, plenty cows, hogs and sheep. De most we had\nter eat, was corn, collards, peas, turnip-greens and home-made molasses.\nWe had wheat bread on Sundays. It was made from flour grind at our own\nmill. We didn't have but one day off, that was Christmas Day and den we\nhad to grind our axes.\n\n\"We made our clothes out of cotton and wool mixed, made dem at home wid\nour own cards and spinning wheels. We made our shoes out of leather\ntanned at home, but had to use woolen shoes after de war, which would\nwear out and split open in three weeks.\n\n\"My daddy was Amos Wilson and mammy was Carline Griffin. I had some\nbrothers and sisters. When freedom come, de master come to us and told\nus de damn Yankees done freed us, 'what you gwinter do? If you want ter\nstay on wid me, I will give you work.' We stayed fer awhile.\n\n\"The patrollers caught me once when I run off. I run fast and lost my\nhat and dey got it. I saw some slaves sold on de block. Dey was put in a\nring and sold by crying out de price. We didn't learn to read and\nwrite, not allowed to. De niggers went to de corn shuckings and was give\npumpkin custards to eat and liquor. Dey wasn't allowed to dance, but\nsometimes we had secret dances, shut up in de house so de master\ncouldn't hear us.\n\n\"After de war, we went hunting and fishing on Sundays. We never had\nSaturday afternoons off. We killed wild deer and other things. Once de\nmaster killed 14 squirrels in three quarters of hour.\n\n\"We raised our own tobacco, the master did, for home use. Most always a\nsmall patch was planted.\n\n\"De master once saw ghosts, he come from his sisters and passed de\ngraveyard and saw 9 cows with no heads. His horse jest flew home. Most\nwhite folks didn't believe in ghosts, but dat is one time de master\nbelieved he saw some.\n\n\"I went wid de Red Shirts, belonged to de company and went to meetings\nwid dem. I voted fer Hampton. Befo' dat, de Ku Klux had bad niggers\ndodging like birds in de woods. Dey caught some and threw dem on de\nground and whipped dem, but de master say he don't know nothing 'bout it\nas he was asleep. Dey caught a nigger preacher once and made him dance,\nput him in muddy water and walloped him around in de mud.\n\n\"Once seven Indians come in our neighborhood an call fer meat, meal and\nsalt. Dere was three men and four women. Dey cooked all night, murmuring\nsomething all de time. Next morning three squirrels was found up a tree,\nand de Indians shot 'em down wid bow and arrow.\n\n\"One time I saw horses froze to death. Dey couldn't get dere breath, and\nde people took warm water and wash dere foreheads. I was a small boy\nden. My master had 46 guineas.\n\n\"I married Nancy Robinson who belonged to Robert Calmes. She was living\nat de Gillam place near Rich Hill.\n\n\"We used to ask a riddle like this: Love I stand, Love I sit, Love I\nhold in my right hand. What is it? It was made up when an old woman had\na little dog named 'Love'. She killed it and put a part of it, after it\nwas baked, in her stockings; part in her shoes; part in back of her\ndress, and part in her gloves. A nigger was going to be hung the next\nFriday, and told if he guess the riddle he would be turned loose. He\ncouldn't guess it, but was turned loose anyway.\n\n\"I think Abe Lincoln might ter done good, but he had us all scared to\ndeath, took our mules and burned our places. Don't know anything about\nJeff Davis. Booker Washington is all right.\n\n\"I joined de church when 28 years old, because I thought it was right.\nWanted to git right and git to God's Kingdom. I think everybody ought to\njoin de church.\n\n\"O' course I rather it not be slavery time, but I got more ter eat den\ndan now. Den we didn't know what ter do, but now we perish ter death.\"\n\n  =Source:= Madison Griffin (84), Whitmire, S.C.\n          Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/18/1937)\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n  June 7, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in old Edgefield county, about three miles below what is now\nSaluda Courthouse. I was a slave of Alec Grigsby. He was a fair marster,\nbut his wife was awful mean to us. She poked my head in a rail fence\nonce and whipped me hard with a whip. I lived in that section until\neight years ago, when I come to Newberry to live with my daughters.\n\n\"I worked hard in cotton fields, milked cows and helped about the\nmarster's house. When the bush-whackers and patrollers come around dere,\nus niggers suffered lots with beatings. Some of dem was killed.\n\n\"The old folks had corn-shuckings, frolics, pender pullings, and\nquiltings. They had quiltings on Saturday nights, with eats and frolics.\nWhen dey danced, dey always used fiddles to make the music.\n\n\"The men folks hunted much: doves, partridges, wild turkeys, deer,\nsquirrels and rabbits. Sometimes dey caught rabbits in wooden boxes,\ncalled 'rabbit-gums'. It had a trap in the middle, which was set at\nnight, with food in it, and when the rabbit bite, the tray sprung, and\nthe opening at the front was closed so he couldn't get out.\n\n\"The marster had a big whiskey still, and sold lots of liquor to people\naround there.\"\n\n  =Source:= Peggy Grigsby (106), Newberry, S.C.\n          Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 5/10/37.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  W.W. Dixon\n  Winnsboro, S.C.\n\n  VIOLET GUNTHARPE\n  EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"I was born a slave in de Rocky Mount part of Fairfield County, up close\nto Great Falls. I hear them falls a roarin' now and I see them waters\nflashin' in de sunshine when I close my eyes.\n\nMy pappy name Robert and my mammy name Phyllis. They b'long to de old\ntime 'ristocats, de Gaither family. Does you know Miss Mattie Martin,\nwhich was de secretary of Governor Ansel? Dat one of my young mistresses\nand another is dat pretty red headed girl in de telegraph office at\nWinnsboro, dat just sit dere and pass out lightnin' and 'lectricity over\nde wires wheresomever she take a notion. Does you know them? Well, befo'\ntheir mama marry Marster Starke Martin, her was Sally Gaither, my young\nmissus in slavery time. Her die and go to Heaven last year, please God.\n\nMarster Richard was a good marster to his slaves, though he took no\nfoolishness and worked you from sun to sun. 'Spect him had 'bout ten\nfamily of slaves and 'bout fifty big and little slaves altogether on dat\nplantation befo' them Yankees come and make a mess out of their lives.\n\nHoney, us wasn't ready for de big change dat come! Us had no education,\nno land, no mule, no cow, not a pig, nor a chicken, to set up house\nkeeping. De birds had nests in de air, de foxes had holes in de ground,\nand de fishes had beds under de great falls, but us colored folks was\nleft widout any place to lay our heads.\n\nDe Yankees sho' throwed us in de briar patch but us not bred and born\ndere lak de rabbit. Us born in a good log house. De cows was down dere\nin de canebrakes to give us milk, de hogs was fattenin' on hickory nuts,\nacorns, and shucked corn, to give us meat and grease; de sheep wid their\nwool, and de cotton in de gin house was dere to give us clothes. De\nhorses and mules was dere to help dat corn and cotton, but when them\nYankees come and take all dat away, all us had to thank them for, was a\nhungry belly, and freedom. Sumpin' us had no more use for then, than I\nhave today for one of them airplanes I hears flyin' 'round de sky, right\nnow.\n\nWell, after ravagin' de whole country side, de army got across old\nCatawba and left de air full of de stink of dead carcasses and de sky\nblack wid turkey buzzards. De white women was weepin' in hushed voices,\nde niggers on de place not knowin' what to do next, and de piccaninnies\nsuckin' their thumbs for want of sumpin' to eat; mind you 'twas winter\ntime too.\n\nLots of de chillun die, as did de old folks, while de rest of us scour\nde woods for hickory nuts, acorns, cane roots, and artichokes, and seine\nde river for fish. De worst nigger men and women follow de army. De\nbalance settle down wid de white folks and simmer in their misery all\nthru de spring time, 'til plums, mulberries, and blackberries come, and\nde shad come up de Catawba River.\n\nMy mammy stay on wid de same marster 'til I was grown, dat is fifteen,\nand Thad got to lookin' at me, meek as a sheep and dumb as a calf. I had\nto ask dat nigger, right out, what his 'tentions was, befo' I get him to\nbleat out dat he love me. Him name Thad Guntharpe. I glance at him one\nday at de pigpen when I was sloppin' de hogs, I say: 'Mr. Guntharpe, you\nfollows me night and mornin' to dis pigpen; do you happen to be in love\nwid one of these pigs? If so, I'd like to know which one 'tis; then\nsometime I come down here by myself and tell dat pig 'bout your\n'fections.' Thad didn't say nothin' but just grin. Him took de slop\nbucket out of my hand and look at it, all 'round it, put upside down on\nde ground, and set me down on it; then he fall down dere on de grass by\nme and blubber out and warm my fingers in his hands. I just took pity on\nhim and told him mighty plain dat he must limber up his tongue and ask\nsumpin', say what he mean, wantin' to visit them pigs so often. Us carry\non foolishness 'bout de little boar shoat pig and de little sow pig,\nthen I squeal in laughter over how he scrouge so close; de slop bucket\ntipple over and I lost my seat. Dat ever remain de happiest minute of my\neighty-two years.\n\nAfter us marry, us moved on de Johnson Place and Thad plow right on a\nfarm where dere use to be a town of Grimkeville. I was lonely down dere\nall de time. I's halfway scared to death of de skeeters 'bout my legs in\nday time and old Captain Thorn's ghost in de night time. You never heard\n'bout dat ghost? If you went to school to Mr. Luke Ford sure he must of\ntell you 'bout de time a slave boy killed his marster, old Captain\nThorn. He drag and throwed his body in de river.\n\nWhen they find his body they ketch John, de slave boy, give him a trial\nby six white men, find him guilty and he confess. Then they took de\nbroad axe, cut off his head, mount it on a pole and stick it up on de\nbank where they find old Captain Thorn. Dat pole and head stay dere 'til\nit rot down. Captain Thorn's ghost 'pear and disappear 'long dat river\nbank ever since in de night time. My pappy tell me he see it and see de\nboy's ghost too.\n\nDe ghost rode de minds of many colored folks. Some say dat de ghost had\na heap to do wid deaths on dat river, by drowning. One sad thing happen;\nde ghost and de malaria run us off de river. Us moved to Marster Starke\nP. Martin's place. Him was a settin' at a window in de house one night\nand somebody crept up dere and fill his head full of buck-shot. Marster\nStarke was Miss Sallie's husband, and Miss Mattie and Miss May's papa.\nOh, de misery of dat night to my white folks! Who did it? God knows!\nThey sent poor Henry Nettles to de penitentiary for it, but most white\nfolks and all de colored didn't believe he done it. White folks say a\nwhite man done it, but our color know it was de work of dat slave boy's\nghost.\n\nMy white folks come here from Maryland, I heard them say. They fought in\nde Revolution, set up a tanyard when they got here, and then when cotton\ncome, my marster's pappy was de fust to put up a hoss-gin and screw pit\nin Rocky Mount section. I glories in their blood, but dere none by de\nname 'round here now, 'cept colored folks.\n\nMarster Wood you read a heap of books. Did you ever read 'bout foots of\nghosts? They got foots and can jump and walk. No they don't run, why?\n'Cause seem lak their foots is too big. Dat night Marster Starke Martin\nwas killed it was a snowin'. De whole earth was covered wid a white\nblanket. It snowed and snowed and snowed. Us measure how big dat snow\nwas next mornin' and how big dat ghost track. De snow was seven inches,\nand a little bit deep. De ghost track on top de snow big as a\nelephant's. Him or she or it's tracks 'pear to drap wid de snow and just\nrise up out de snow and disappear. De white folks say 'twas a man wid\nbags on his foots, but they never found de bags, so I just believe it\nwas ghost instigate by de devil to drap down dere and make all dat\nmisery for my white folks.\n\nDere's a great day a comin' when de last trumpet will sound and de devil\nand all de ghosts will be chained and they can't romp 'round de old\nriver and folks houses in de night time and bring sorrow and pain in de\nwake of them big tracks.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Gyland H. Hamlin\n  Charleston, S.C.\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE\n\n\n\"Good a'ternoon, suh. Yassuh, I'ze gittin' on up in de years. I be\neighty-one year ole nex' May. I name John Hamilton an' I lib at\nsickty-t'ree Amherst Street.\n\n\"I 'member sumptin' 'bout slabery. I wuz 'bout big as dat gal gwine dere\nw'en de Fed'rul war broke out,\" indicating a child, passing down the\nstreet who appeared to be about eight years old.\n\n\"I belong' to Maussa Seabrook, an' he lib at W'ite Point, ten mile from\nAdams Run. De Maussa, he been daid but he got some boys. Dem boys all\nscatter', dough. Yassuh, ole Maussa treat us good. I not big 'nough to\nwuk, I jus' a li'l boy den. My fadder name' Rhode Hamilton, an' 'e hab\ntwo acre to wuk. Dere didn't been no hoss, an' 'e grub it wid de hoe.\n\n\"Some slabes no good an' not satisfy fo' tuh wuk. Dey run 'way fum de\nplantation. Dere been big dawgs high as street-cyar, yassuh, high as dat\nstreet-cyar. Dey name' nigger-dawg an' dey trace nigger an' put dem\nnigger back to wuk. Dere been Yankee man name' Tom Cudry. I kin sho' de\nhouse 'e been in. He say 'e tired see colored mans wuk hard an' git\nnuttin'. He put colored mans on banjoo (vendue) table an' 'e be free.\n\n\"I didn't be marry till I git in my t'irty year. My wife, she 'bout\nsickty-fibe year ole'. We got fibe chillun libbin', 'bout twelbe haid in\nall. Grand-chillun? 'Bout sebben haid an' one gal. Hab great\ngrand-chillun, too.\n\n\"I ain't been know nuttin' 'bout jailhouse. Ain't see a jailhouse in my\nlife. I hab to look all day to find one in Charleston, an' don't know\nwhere 'bouts de court-house. Ain't gwine to jailhouse. Nobody hab to\n'rest me no how.\n\n\"I be a Babtis'. I babtize' in de ribber, de Edisto ribber. I tryin' git\nto Hebben. Hebben be glory. Yassuh, Hebben be glory. You got to lub all\nGod's chillun to git dere. God send w'ite folks an' colored folks, an'\ndey mus' he'p each odder an' wuk togedder. Dey got to lib in union.\nYassuh, got to lib in union to git to Hebben.\n\n\"I 'pend on de w'ite folks to he'p me. Dese pore colored folks ain't got\nnuttin'. Nawsuh, I ain't be too ole to wuk an' mek a honest libbin' like\nlot o' dem no good nigger what too stiff fo' to speak. I wuk some\nflower-yard fo' some w'ite folks, an' I wuk a li'l gyarden.\n\n\"Yassuh, I hol' up berry well, but I can't see at night w'en de sun go\ndown. My sight gone back den. I got git 'long now.\n\n\"You gimme a nickel or dime? T'ank you, suh. T'ank you kin'ly.\"\n\n  =Source:= Personal interview with John Hamilton, colored,\n          of 63 Amherst Street, Charleston, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Jessie A. Butler\n  Charleston, S.C.\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  OLD SUSAN HAMLIN--EX SLAVE\n\n  (Verbatim Conversation)\n\n\nOld Susan Hamlin, one hundred and four years old, was strolling down\nlower King St., about a mile from where she lives, when she was met by a\nwhite \"friend,\" and the following conversation took place:\n\n\"How are you, Susan, do you remember me?\"\n\n\"Yes, Ma'am, I 'member yo face, Missus, but I can't 'member yo name. I\ngettin' ole. Dis eye (touching the right one) leabin' me. Ole age you\nknow. Somet'ing got tuh gie way.\"\n\n\"Don't you remember I came to see you one morning, and you told me all\nabout old times?\"\n\n\"Yes, Ma'am, (with enthusiasm) come tuh see me 'gain, I tell you some\nmo'. I like tuh talk 'bout dem days; 'taint many people left now kin\ntell 'bout dat time. Eberybody dead. I goes 'round tuh de ole house, an'\nI t'ink 'bout all dem little chillen I is nuss, (calling them by name)\ndey all sleep, all sleep in de groun'. Nobody lef' but ole Susan. All my\nfambly, de massa, de missus, all de little chillen, all sleep. Only me\none lef', only ole Susan. Sometime I wonder how it is. I ober a hund'ed,\nI stahtin' (starting) tuh forgit de years.\"\n\n\"Tell me one thing, Susan, you have lived a long time, do you think the\nyoung people of today are better or worse than in the old days?\"\n\n\"Well, Missus, some is wuss but not all. Some stray jus' like dey always\ndone but dey'll come back. I stray 'way myself but dey'll come back jus'\nlike I did. Gib um time dey come back. I git converted you know.\"\n\n\"Yes, you told me about that.\"\n\n\"Yes, Ma'am, I see de Sabior. He show me hoe He die. I nebber forget dat\nday. Dere He hang,--so--(with arms outstretched) an' He show me de great\nbrightness, an' He show me de big sin on my back, black as dat cyar\n(car). Den I pray an' I pray, an' it fall off. Den I praise Him. Nebber\nsince dat day is I forget what I see. When I see dat reconcile Sabior\ncountenance,--oh!--I nebber forget. No, Ma'am. I nebber forget dat\nreconcile countenance. As I tell yuh, I stray 'way, but not after I see\ndat reconcile countenance. I pray and praise Him. Sometimes all by\nmyself I get so happy, jes t'inkin' on Him. I cyant forget all dat He\ndone fuh me.\"\n\n\"People tell me I ought not walk 'round by myself so. I tell um I don't\ncare where I drop. I 'member when my ma was dyin' I beg um not to leabe\nme, she say: 'Wha' I got yuh, wha' I want tuh stay yuh fuh? I want tuh\ngo, I want tuh see muh Jesus.' I know what she mean now. I don't care if\nI drop in de street, I don't care if I drop in my room. I don't care\nwhere I drop, I ready tuh go.\"\n\n\"All you got tuh do is libe right, yuh got tuh libe (live) de life. What\nis de life?--Purity.--What is Purity?--Righteousness.--What is\nRighteousness?--Tuh do de right t'ing.--Libe right,--pray an' praise.\nBeliebe on de delibrin (delivering) Sabior. Trus' Him. He lead yuh. He\nshow yuh de way. Dat all yuh got tuh do. Beliebe--pray--praise. Ebery\nnight befo' I lay on my bed I git on my knees an' look up tuh Him. Soon\nI wake in de mornin' I gibe Him t'anks. Eben sometime in de day I git on\nmy knees an' pray. He been good to me all dese years. He aint forget me.\nI aint been sick for ober twenty-five years. Good t'ing too, nobody left\ntuh tek care of me. Dey all gone. But I don't care now, jus' so I kin\nsee my Jesus when I gone.\"\n\n\"I goin' down now tuh see my people I use to cook fuh. I too ole now tuh\ncook. I use tuh cook fine. Come tuh see me again, missus, come tuh see\nde ole monkey, I tell yuh mo' 'bout dose times. You know I kin 'member\ndem when I been a big girl, most grown, when de bombardment come ober de\ncity.\"\n\n  =Source:= Writer's conversation with Susan Hamlin, 17\n          Henrietta Street, Charleston. S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project#-1655\n  Jessie A. Butler\n  Charleston, S.C.\n\n  Approx. 1739 Words\n\n  INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE\n\n\nOn July 6th, I interviewed Susan Hamlin, ex-slave, at 17 Henrietta\nstreet, Charleston, S. C. She was sitting just inside of the front door,\non a step leading up to the porch, and upon hearing me inquire for her\nshe assumed that I was from the Welfare office, from which she had\nreceived aid prior to its closing. I did not correct this impression,\nand at no time did she suspect that the object of my visit was to get\nthe story of her experience as a slave. During our conversation she\nmentioned her age. \"Why that's very interesting, Susan,\" I told her, \"If\nyou are that old you probably remember the Civil War and slavery days.\"\n\"Yes Ma'am, I been a slave myself,\" she said, and told me the following\nstory:\n\n\"I kin remember some things like it was yesterday, but I is 104 years\nold now, and age is starting to get me, I can't remember everything like\nI use to. I getting old, old. You know I is old when I been a grown\nwoman when the Civil War broke out. I was hired out then, to a Mr.\nMcDonald, who lived on Atlantic Street, and I remembers when de first\nshot was fired, and the shells went right over de city. I got seven\ndollars a month for looking after children, not taking them out, you\nunderstand, just minding them. I did not get the money, Mausa got it.\"\n\"Don't you think that was fair?\" I asked. \"If you were fed and clothed\nby him, shouldn't he be paid for your work?\" \"Course it been fair,\" she\nanswered, \"I belong to him and he got to get something to take care of\nme.\"\n\n\"My name before I was married was Susan Calder, but I married a man name\nHamlin. I belonged to Mr. Edward Fuller, he was president of the First\nNational Bank. He was a good man to his people till de Lord took him.\nMr. Fuller got his slaves by marriage. He married Miss Mikell, a lady\nwhat lived on Edisto Island, who was a slave owner, and we lived on\nEdisto on a plantation. I don't remember de name cause when Mr. Fuller\ngot to be president of de bank we come to Charleston to live. He sell\nout the plantation and say them (the slaves) that want to come to\nCharleston with him could come and them what wants to stay can stay on\nthe island with his wife's people. We had our choice. Some is come and\nsame is stay, but my ma and us children come with Mr. Fuller.\n\nWe lived on St. Philip street. The house still there, good as ever, I go\n'round there to see it all de time; the cistern still there too, where\nwe used to sit 'round and drink the cold water, and eat, and talk and\nlaugh. Mr. Fuller have lots of servants and the ones he didn't need\nhisself he hired out. The slaves had rooms in the back, the ones with\nchildren had two rooms and them that didn't have any children had one\nroom, not to cook in but to sleep in. They all cooked and ate downstairs\nin the hall that they had for the colored people. I don't know about\nslavery but I know all the slavery I know about, the people was good to\nme. Mr. Fuller was a good man and his wife's people been grand people,\nall good to their slaves. Seem like Mr. Fuller just git his slaves so he\ncould be good to dem. He made all the little colored chillen love him.\nIf you don't believe they loved him what they all cry, and scream, and\nholler for when dey hear he dead? 'Oh, Mausa dead my Mausa dead, what I\ngoing to do, my Mausa dead.' Dey tell dem t'aint no use to cry, dat\ncan't bring him back, but de chillen keep on crying. We used to call him\nMausa Eddie but he named Mr. Edward Fuller, and he sure was a good man.\n\n\"A man come here about a month ago, say he from de Government, and dey\nsend him to find out 'bout slavery. I give him most a book, and what he\ngive me? A dime. He ask me all kind of questions. He ask me dis and he\nask me dat, didn't de white people do dis and did dey do dat but Mr.\nFuller was a good man, he was sure good to me and all his people, dey\nall like him, God bless him, he in de ground now but I ain't going to\nlet nobody lie on him. You know he good when even the little chillen cry\nand holler when he dead. I tell you dey couldn't just fix us up any kind\nof way when we going to Sunday School. We had to be dressed nice, if you\npass him and you ain't dress to suit him he send you right back and say\ntell your ma to see dat you dress right. Dey couldn't send you out in de\ncold barefoot neither. I 'member one day my ma want to send me wid some\nmilk for her sister-in-law what live 'round de corner. I fuss cause it\ncold and say 'how you going to send me out wid no shoe, and it cold?'\nMausa hear how I talking and turn he back and laugh, den he call to my\nma to gone in de house and find shoe to put on my feet and don't let him\nsee me barefoot again in cold weather.\n\nWhen de war start going good and de shell fly over Charleston he take\nall us up to Aiken for protection. Talk 'bout marching through Georgia,\nday sure march through Aiken, soldiers was everywhere.\n\n\"My ma had six children, three boys and three girls, but I de only one\nleft, all my white people and all de colored people gone, not a soul\nleft but me. I ain't been sick in 25 years. I is near my church and I\ndon't miss service any Sunday, night or morning. I kin walk wherever I\nplease, I kin walk to de Battery if I want to. The Welfare use to help\nme but dey shut down now, I can't find out if dey going to open again or\nnot. Miss (Mrs.) Buist and Miss Pringle, dey help me when I can go there\nbut all my own dead.\"\n\n\"Were most of the masters kind?\" I asked. \"Well you know,\" she answered,\n\"times den was just like dey is now, some was kind and some was mean;\nheaps of wickedness went on just de same as now. All my people was good\npeople. I see some wickedness and I hear 'bout all kinds of t'ings but\nyou don't know whether it was lie or not. Mr. Fuller been a Christian\nman.\"\n\n\"Do you think it would have been better if the Negroes had never left\nAfrica?\" was the next question I asked. \"No Ma'am,\" (emphatically) dem\nheathen didn't have no religion. I tell you how I t'ink it is. The Lord\nmade t'ree nations, the white, the red and the black, and put dem in\ndifferent places on de earth where dey was to stay. Dose black\nignoramuses in Africa forgot God, and didn't have no religion and God\nblessed and prospered the white people dat did remember him and sent dem\nto teach de black people even if dey have to grab dem and bring dem into\nbondage till dey learned some sense. The Indians forgot God and dey had\nto be taught better so dey land was taken away from dem. God sure bless\nand prosper de white people and He put de red and de black people under\ndem so dey could teach dem and bring dem into sense wid God. Dey had to\nget dere brains right, and honor God, and learn uprightness wid God\ncause ain't He make you, and ain't His Son redeem you and save you wid\nHis precious blood. You kin plan all de wickedness you want and pull\nhard as you choose but when the Lord mek up His mind you is to change,\nHe can change you dat quick (snapping her fingers) and easy. You got to\nbelieve on Him if it tek bondage to bring you to your knees.\n\nYou know I is got converted. I been in Big Bethel (church) on my knees\npraying under one of de preachers. I see a great, big, dark pack on my\nback, and it had me all bent over and my shoulders drawn down, all hunch\nup. I look up and I see de glory, I see a big beautiful light, a great\nlight, and in de middle is de Sabior, hanging so (extending her arms)\njust like He died. Den I gone to praying good, and I can feel de\nsheckles (shackles) loose up and moving and de pack fall off. I don't\nknow where it went to, I see de angels in de Heaven, and hear dem say\n'Your sins are forgiven.' I scream and fell off so. (Swoon.) When I come\nto dey has laid me out straight and I know I is converted cause you\ncan't see no such sight and go on like you is before. I know I is still\na sinner but I believe in de power of God and I trust his Holy name. Den\ndey put me wid de seekers but I know I is already saved.\"\n\n\"Did they take good care of the slaves when their babies were born?\" she\nwas asked. \"If you want chickens for fat (to fatten) you got to feed\ndem,\" she said with a smile, \"and if you want people to work dey got to\nbe strong, you got to feed dem and take care of dem too. If dey can't\nwork it come out of your pocket. Lots of wickedness gone on in dem days,\njust as it do now, some good, some mean, black and white, it just dere\nnature, if dey good dey going to be kind to everybody, if dey mean dey\ngoing to be mean to everybody. Sometimes chillen was sold away from dey\nparents. De Mausa would come and say \"Where Jennie,\" tell um to put\nclothes on dat baby, I want um. He sell de baby and de ma scream and\nholler, you know how dey carry on. Geneally (generally) dey sold it when\nde ma wasn't dere. Mr. Fuller didn't sell none of us, we stay wid our\nma's till we grown. I stay wid my ma till she dead.\n\n\"You know I is mix blood, my grandfather bin a white man and my\ngrandmother a mulatto. She been marry to a black so dat how I get fix\nlike I is. I got both blood, so how I going to quarrel wid either side?\"\n\n  =Source:= Interview with *Susan Hamlin, 17 Henrietta Street.\n\n     NOTE * Susan lives with a mulatto family of the better type. The\n     name is Hamlin not Hamilton, and her name prior to her marriage was\n     Calder not Collins. I paid particular attention to this and had\n     them spell the names for me. I would judge Susan to be in the late\n     nineties but she is wonderfully well preserved. She now claims to\n     be 104 years old.\n\n\n\n\n  S-260-264-N\n  Project #1885\n  Augustus Ladson\n  Charleston, S.C.\n\n  No. Words: 1195\n\n  EX-SLAVE 101 YEARS OF AGE\n\n  HAS NEVER SHAKEN HANDS SINCE 1863\n\n  WAS ON KNEES SCRUBBING WHEN FREEDOM GUN FIRED\n\n\nI'm a hund'ed an' one years old now, son. De only one livin' in my crowd\nfrom de days I wuz a slave. Mr. Fuller, my master, who was president of\nthe Firs' National Bank, owned the fambly of us except my father. There\nwere eight men an' women with five girls an' six boys workin' for him.\nMost o' them wus hired out. De house in which we stayed is still dere\nwith de cisterns an' slave quarters. I always go to see de old home\nwhich is on St. Phillip Street.\n\nMy ma had t'ree boys an' t'ree girls who did well at their work. Hope\nMikell, my eldest bredder, an' James wus de shoemaker. William Fuller,\nson of our master, wus de bricklayer. Margurite an' Catharine wuz de\nmaids an' look at de children.\n\nMy pa b'long to a man on Edisto Island. Frum what he said, his master\nwas very mean. Pa real name wus Adam Collins but he took his master'\nname; he wus de coachman. Pa did supin one day an his master whipped\nhim. De next day which wuz Monday, Pa carry him 'bout four miles frum\nhome in de woods an' give him de same 'mount of lickin' he wus given on\nSunday. He tied him to a tree an' unhitched de horse so it couldn't git\ntie-up an' kill a self. Pa den gone to de landin' an' catch a boat dat\nwus comin' to Charleston wood fa'm products. He wus permitted by his\nmaster to go to town on errands, which helped him to go on de boat\nwithout bein' question'. When he got here he gone on de water-front an'\nax for a job on a ship so he could git to de North. He got de job an'\nsail' wood de ship. Dey search de island up an' down for him wood\nhoundogs en w'en it wus t'ought he wus drowned, 'cause dey track him to\nde river, did dey give up. One of his master' friend gone to New York en\nwent in a store w'ere Pas wus employed as a clerk. He reconize' pa is\neasy is pa reconize' him. He gone back home an' tell pa master who know\nden dat pa wusn't comin' back an' before he died he sign' papers dat pa\nwus free. Pa ma wus dead an' he come down to bury her by de permission\nof his master' son who had promised no ha'm would come to him, but dey\nwus fixin' plans to keep him, so he went to the Work House an' ax to be\nsold 'cause any slave could sell e self if e could git to de Work House.\nBut it wus on record down dere so dey couldn't sell 'im an' told him his\nmaster' people couldn't hold him a slave.\n\nPeople den use to do da same t'ings dey do now. Some marry an' some live\ntogether jus' like now. One t'ing, no minister nebber say in readin' de\nmatrimony \"let no man put asounder\" 'cause a couple would be married\ntonight an' tomorrow one would be taken away en be sold. All slaves wus\nmarried in dere master house, in de livin' room where slaves an' dere\nmissus an' massa wus to witness de ceremony. Brides use to wear some of\nde finest dress an' if dey could afford it, have de best kind of\nfurniture. Your master nor your missus objected to good t'ings.\n\nI'll always 'member Clory, de washer. She wus very high-tempered. She\nwus a mulatta with beautiful hair she could sit on; Clory didn't take\nfoolishness frum anybody. One day our missus gone in de laundry an' find\nfault with de clothes. Clory didn't do a t'ing but pick her up bodily\nan' throw 'er out de door. Dey had to sen' fur a doctor 'cause she\npregnant an' less than two hours de baby wus bo'n. Afta dat she begged\nto be sold fur she didn't want to kill missus, but our master ain't\nnebber want to sell his slaves. But dat didn't keep Clory frum gittin' a\nbrutal whippin'. Dey whip' 'er until dere wasn't a white spot on her\nbody. Dat wus de worst I ebber see a human bein' got such a beatin'. I\nt'ought she wus goin' to die, but she got well an' didn't get any better\nbut meaner until our master decide it wus bes' to rent her out. She\nwillingly agree' since she wusn't 'round missus. She hated an' detest'\nboth of them an' all de fambly.\n\nW'en any slave wus whipped all de other slaves wus made to watch. I see\nwomen hung frum de ceilin' of buildin's an' whipped with only supin tied\n'round her lower part of de body, until w'en dey wus taken down, dere\nwusn't breath in de body. I had some terribly bad experiences.\n\nYankees use to come t'rough de streets, especially de Big Market,\nhuntin' those who want to go to de \"free country\" as dey call' it. Men\nan' women wus always missin' an' nobody could give 'count of dere\ndisappearance. De men wus train' up North fur sojus.\n\nDe white race is so brazen. Dey come here an' run de Indians frum dere\nown lan', but dey couldn't make dem slaves 'cause dey wouldn't stan' for\nit. Indians use to git up in trees an' shoot dem with poison arrow. W'en\ndey couldn't make dem slaves den dey gone to Africa an' bring dere black\nbrother an' sister. Dey say 'mong themselves, \"we gwine mix dem up en\nmake ourselves king. Dats e only way we'll git even with de Indians.\"\n\nAll time, night an' day, you could hear men an' women screamin' to de\ntip of dere voices as either ma, pa, sister, or brother wus take without\nany warnin' an' sell. Some time mother who had only one chile wus\nseparated fur life. People wus always dyin' frum a broken heart.\n\nOne night a couple married an' de next mornin' de boss sell de wife. De\ngal ma got in in de street an' cursed de white woman fur all she could\nfind. She said: \"dat damn white, pale-face bastard sell my daughter who\njus' married las' night,\" an' other t'ings. The white 'oman treaten' her\nto call de police if she didn't stop, but de collud woman said: \"hit me\nor call de police. I redder die dan to stan' dis any longer! De police\ntook her to de work House by de white woman orders an' what became of\n'er, I never hear.\n\nW'en de war began we wus taken to Aiken, South Ca'lina w'ere we stay'\nuntil de Yankees come t'rough. We could see balls sailin' t'rough de air\nw'en Sherman wus comin'. Bumbs hit trees in our yard. W'en de freedom\ngun wus fired, I wus on my 'nees scrubbin'. Dey tell me I wus free but I\ndidn't b'lieve it.\n\nIn de days of slavery woman wus jus' given time 'nough to deliver dere\nbabies. Dey deliver de baby 'bout eight in de mornin' an' twelve had too\nbe back to work.\n\nI wus a member of Emmanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church for 67\nyears. Big Zion, across de street wus my church before den an' before\nOld Bethel w'en I lived on de other end of town.\n\nSence Lincoln shook hands with his assasin who at de same time shoot\nhim, frum dat day I stop shakin' hands, even in de church, an' you know\nhow long dat wus. I don't b'lieve in kissin' neider fur all carry dere\nmeannesses. De Master wus betrayed by one of his bosom frien' with a\nkiss.\n\n  =Source:=\n\n  Interview with (Mrs.) Susan Hamilton, 17 Henrietta Street, who claims to be\n  101 years of age. She has never been sick for twenty years and walks as though\n  just 40. She was hired out by her master for seven dollars a month which had to\n  be given her master.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  Stiles M. Scruggs\n  Columbia, S.C.\n\n  ANSON HARP\n  EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nAnson Harp, eighty-seven years old, lives out in the country on Route\n#3. He still works on the few acres he owns, raising vegetables for\nhimself and a few baskets to sell. He is a gray-haired, medium sized man\nand his geniality is frequently noticed by white and Negro friends who\nknow him.\n\n\"I was born in Mississippi in 1850, on a big plantation dat b'long to\nMaster Tom Harp. I can see dat big rushin' river now, 'ceptin' the\nmosquitoes. My daddy and mammy b'long to Master Harp and we live in a\ncabin 'bout a mile from the big house of my master's home.\n\n\"One day when the slaves was choppin' cotton, a strange white man come\nand watch us, and in a day or two me and three other chillun was called\nin the yard of the big house and told we goin' to git to go wid the\nstranger. My daddy and mammy and the other chillun's daddy and mammy all\ncry when we was put in a big wagon and carried 'way to somewhere.\n\n\"We gits plenty of rations on the way and when we gits to Aiken one\nmornin', we was told we was close to home and soon we was on the big\nplantation of Master James Henry Hammond. We find other boys there, too.\nWe go to the fields and chop cotton, after we rest up. No sah, we wasn't\nflogged often. One time the grown men and women was choppin' two rows to\nour one, and a straw-boss slave twit us and call us lazy. The white\noverseer, who was riding by, heard him. He shake his whip at the\nstraw-boss and tell him: 'The young niggers not yet 'spected to make a\nhalf hand and you do pretty well to 'tend to your own knittin'.\n\n\"I been there for a pretty long time befo' I really talks to my great\nwhite master, James Henry Hammond. He not at home much, and when he was\nhome, many big white men wid him 'most every day.\n\n\"One Saturday, we always had a half holiday on Saturday, me and my\nfriends 'bout the same age, was playin' a game on a big lot behind the\nbarn. We quit yellin' and playin' when we see Master Hammond and three\nor four white men at the barn. They was lookin' at and talkin' 'bout\nMaster Hammond's big black stallion. Master Hammond lead him out of the\nstall and he stand on his hind feet.\n\n\"'Well Senator,' says one big man to Master Hammond, 'I has come a long\nways to see this famous hoss. It's no wonder he was s'lected as a model\nfor the war hoss of General Jackson. I seen his statue in Washington and\nNashville.'\n\n\"'And I see him in New Orleans', says another big man, in a fine black\nslick suit.\n\n\"'I 'clare, Governor', says the other big man, also dressed just lak he\ngoin' to church, 'this grand stallion look today well as he did when I\nuse him for my model'.\n\n\"Then they all pat the hoss's nose and stroke him down his mane, and the\nbig buckra hoss steps, just lak the fine gentlemen he is, back to his\nstall, while all the big men wave him goodbye!\n\n\"No, I not take the name of Hammond after we free, 'cause too many of\nhis slaves do. I kept the name of my old master and the one my daddy and\nmammy had. No, I never hear of them in Mississippi. Lak as not they was\nsold and taken far away, lak me.\n\n\"I was eleven in 1861, when the war start, 'cordin' to my count. Master\nHammond was hardly ever at home no more. He, too, was angry at President\nLincoln and I love my master, so I used to wonder what sort of man the\nPresident was. My Master Hammond sure did honor President Davis. I hear\nhim say once, dat President Davis was a Chesterfield and dat the\nLincoln fellow is coarse and heartless.\n\n\"In 1862 I was twelve years old, big for my age, and I do more than half\nas much work as any grown slave. At dat time we see many free niggers,\nand nearly all of them sorry lookin'. They eat off of slave families,\nwhen they could git it.\n\n\"I come to Columbia in 1865, after all the niggers everywhere am set\nfree. I work for white folks 'bout town and when the Freedman's aid was\nset up, I goes 'long wid some new found friends to the aid headquarters,\nand was the last one to be heard. The others got bundles of food and I\nsee one git a piece of money, too. When I got to the white man in\ncharge, he eye me and zay: 'What damn rebel did you slave for?' I forgot\n'bout what I am there for and I say: 'I never slave for no damn rebel. I\nwork for Governor Hammond and he is the finest buckra that is.'\n\n\"Then the aid man say: 'Dat damn rebel Hammond and all lak him yet\nunhung, should be, and you wid him. Go let him feed and clothe you! When\nyou come here again maybe you have 'nough sense to ask for favors\ndecent.' I so mad, I hardly 'member just what happen, 'ceptin' I come\n'way just lak I go, empty handed.\n\n\"I am now an old man, as you see, but I am happy to know dat the white\nfolks has always been ready to help me make a livin'. I now own a patch\nof ground, where I makes a livin' on the shares. My boy, a son by my\nsecond wife, works it, and he takes care of me now. If I had been as\nbig, and knowed as much at the start of the war as I did at the end of\nit, I would surely have gone to the front wid my white master.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  May 25, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in Fairfield County, S.C. near Broad River. I was de son of\nJohn and Harriet Harper. I worked in slavery time and was a slave of\nJohn Stanley who was a good man and easy to work with. He give me a good\nwhipping once when I was a boy. We earned no money but had our place to\nsleep and something to eat and wear. We didn't have any gardens, but\nmaster had a big plantation and lots of slaves, and worked a garden\nhimself. I remember he whipped mother once the last year of the\nwar,--just about to get freedom.\n\n\"Master belonged to patrollers, and let dem come on the place and punish\nthe slaves if needed. They whipped my sister once. He had a house to\nlock slaves in when dey was bad. He learned us to read and write. He had\na school on de plantation for his niggers. After the days work was over,\nwe frolicked, and Saturday afternoons we had off to do what we wanted.\nWe had to go to the white folks church and set in back of de church.\nCorn shuckings, cotton picking and carding and quilting, the old folks\nhad when dey had big times and big eats.\n\n\"Weddings and funerals of slaves were about like white folks. Some would\ngo walking and singing to de grave in back of hearse or body. There was\na conjurer in our neighborhood who could make you do what he wanted,\nsometimes he had folks killed. The Yankees marched through our place,\nstole cattle, and meat. We went behind dem and picked up lots dat dey\ndropped when dey left. When de war was over, de niggers was promised\nsmall farms but dey didn't get 'em.\n\n\"I have been preaching many years in colored Methodist churches. I have\n7 children, 22 grand-children but no great-grand-children.\n\n\"I think Abraham Lincoln was a great man, and Jefferson Davis, too.\nBooker Washington was a grand educator for the colored race. Bishop S.D.\nChappell, colored preacher of the A.M.E. church South, one time\npresident of Allen University at Columbia, S.C. was a great colored man,\ntoo. He went to Nashville, Tenn. as secretary-treasurer of the Sunday\nSchool Union.\n\n\"I don't believe slavery was good--much better for all of us now.\n\n\"I joined the church when I was young, because I thought it right to be\na member. I think everybody ought to join some church, and they ought to\njoin early in life, when quite young.\"\n\n  =Source:= Rev. Thomas Harper (84), Newberry, S.C., interviewed by:\n          G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 21, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1555\n  W.W. Dixon\n  Winnsboro, S.C.\n\n  ABE HARRIS\n  EX-SLAVE 74 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nAbe Harris lives about nine miles southwest of the town of Winnsboro,\nSouth Carolina. His home is a two-room frame house, with rock chimneys\nof rough masonry at each gable end. It is the property of Mr. Daniel\nHeyward. Abe is one-fourth white and this mixture shows in his features.\nHe is still vigorous and capable of light manual labor.\n\n\"My father was Samuel Lyles. My mother's name was Phenie Lyles. My\nfather and mother had fifteen chillun. I am de only one livin'. De last\none to die was my brother, Stocklin, that tended to de flowers and\ngardens of people in Winnsboro for many years. He was found dead, one\nmornin', in de Fortune Park woods.\n\n\"My parents b'long to Captain Tom Lyles, in slavery time. Father was de\nhog man. He 'tended to de hogs; didn't pasture them as they do now.\nMarster had a drove of eighty or more in de fall of de year befo' hog\nkillin' time. They run 'bout in de woods for acorns and hickory nuts and\nmy father had to keep up wid them and bring them home. He pen them, feed\nthem, and slop them at night.\n\n\"My white folks was de fust white settlers in de county. De fust one was\nname Ephram, so I hear them tell many times. They fought in all wars dat\nhave been fought. My old marster, Tom, live up 'til de Civil War and\nalthough he couldn't walk, he equip and pay a man to go in his place.\nWhen Sherman's men come to de house, he was in bed wid a dislocated hip.\nThey thought he was shammin', playin' 'possum, so to speak. One of de\nraiders, a Yankee, come wid a lighted torch and say: 'Unless you give me\nde silver, de gold, and de money, I'll burn you alive.' Him reply: 'I\nhaven't many more years to live. Burn and be damned!' De Yankee was\nsurprised at his bravery, ordered father to take de torch from under de\nbed and say: 'You 'bout de bravest man I ever see in South Carolina.'\n\n\"His wife, old Miss Mary, was sister to Congressman Joe Woodward. Deir\nhouse and plantation was out at Buckhead. I was a boy eleven years old\nand was in de house when he died, in 1874. He was de oldest person I\never saw, eighty-seven. He had several chillun. Thomas marry Eliza Peay,\nde baby of Col. Austin Peay, one of de rich race horse folks. Marse\nBoykin marry Miss Cora Dantzler of Orangeburg. Him went to de war. Then\nNicholas, Austin, John, and Belton, all went to de Civil War. Austin was\nkilled at second Bull Run. Marse Nicholas go to Alabama and become\nsheriff out dere. Marse John marry Miss Morris and was clerk of court\nhere for twenty-eight years.\n\n\"One of Marse John's sons is Senator Lyles, de cotton buyer here in\nWinnsboro. De youngest boy, just a lad at freedom, marry Miss Cora Irby.\nTwo of deir chillun marry Marse Jim and Marse Bill Mobley in Columbia.\nDe youngest child, Miss Rebecca marry Marse DuBose Ellison in Winnsboro.\n\n\"First time I marry Emily Kinlock and had one child. Emily die. Then I\nmarry Lizzie Brown. Us had six chillun. When Lizzie die, I marry a\nwidow, Frances Young. Us too old to have chillun.\n\n\"I live at Rion, S.C. Just piddle 'round wid chickens and garden truck.\nI sells them to de stone cutters and de mill people of Winnsboro. I's\npast de age to work hard, and I'm mighty sorry dat our race was set free\ntoo soon.\"\n\n\n\n\n  PROJECT #1655\n  W.W. Dixon,\n  Winnsboro, S.C.\n\n  ELI HARRISON\n  EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS.\n\n\nEli Harrison lives on a small ten-acre tract of land near Dutchman\nCreek, in Fairfield County, approximately seven miles southeast of\nWinnsboro. The house, which he owns, is a small shack or shanty\nconstructed of scantlings and slabs. He lives in it alone and does his\nown cooking. He has been on the relief roll for the past three years,\nand ekes out a subsistence on the charity of the Longtown and Ridgeway\npeople. He is small, wiry, and healthy, weighing about 110 pounds.\n\n\"I sure has had a time a finding you! I was up here to Winnsboro befo'\ndis Welfare Society, tryin' to git a pension and they ask me who know my\nage. I tell them a whole lot of people out of town knows it. Then they\nask if anybody in town know my age. I gived in your name. They say they\nwill take your affidavit for it and tell me to bring dis paper to you.\n\n\"I b'long, in slavery, to your step-mother's people, de Harrisons, in\nLongtown. You 'members comin' down when I was a young man and you was a\nboy? Don't you 'member us playin' in de sand in front of de old Harrison\nhouse? Dat house older than you and me. 'Member how I show you how to\ncall de doodles from de sand? How was it? I just git down on my hands\nand knees in de sand and say: 'Doodle, doodle, doodle, doodle, come up\nyour house is afire!' Them black little doodles would come right up out\nof de sand to see what gwine on up dere 'bove de sand. Mighty glad you\nkeeps dat in your mem'ry, 'til dis blessed day.\n\n\"I b'long to old Marse Eli Harrison, de grandpa of your step-mother. I\nwas born and raised on his Wateree River plantation. They called it\nHarrison Flats, 'til de Southern Power Company and de Dukes taken over\nde land, de river, de bull-frogs, de skeeters, whoop owls, and\neverything else down here. De Harrisons owned dat place befo' de\nRevolutionary War, they say. De skeeters run them out and de folks built\na string of houses out of logs, all 'long de roadside and call it\nLongtown. Marse John D. tell me dat, and fust thing you know they was\ncallin' it Longtown and dats what it's called today.\n\n\"Old Marse Eli is a quiet man but him have two brudders dat wasn't so\nquiet. They was Marse Aaron Burr Harrison and Marse John R. Harrison.\nAll of them have race horses. I, bein' little, ride de horses in de\nraces at de last. De tracks I ride on? One was up near Great Falls,\n'tween old Marse Strother Fords and de Martin place. De other was out\nfrom Simpsons' Turn Out. De Hamptons used to have horses on dese tracks.\n\n\"My mistress name Mary. My young marsters name: Sylvester, Lundsford,\nDavid, and John D. They all dead but de old house is still dere on de\nroadside and I alone is live to tell de tale.\n\n\"Dere's one thing I wants to tell you 'bout old Marse John. Him was\n'suaded by de Hamptons, to buy a big plantation in Mississippi. Him go\nout dere to raise cattle, race horses, cotton, sugar cane and niggers.\nWhen him die, after so long a time they take him out of his grave. De\nHarrisons done built a long, big, rock, family vault in de graveyard\nhere to put all de dead of de family name in. Well, what you reckon? Why\nwhen dat coffin reach Ridgeway and they find it mighty heavy for just\none man's body, they open it and find Marse John's body done turned to\nsolid rock. What you think of dat? And what you think of dis? They put\nhim in de vault in de summertime. Dat fall a side show was goin' on in\nColumbia, showin' a petrified man, you had to pay twenty-five cents to\ngo in and see it. De show leave and go up North. 'Bout Christmas, de\nfamily go together to de vault, open it, and bless God dat rock body\ndone got up and left dat vault. What you think 'bout dat? What people\nsay? Some say one thing, some say another. Niggers all 'low, 'Marse John\ndone rose from de dead.' White folks say: 'Somebody done stole dat body\nof Marse John and makin' a fortune out of it, in de side show line.'\n\n\"Well, I's told you 'nough for one day. I's impatient to git back down\nyonder to them white ladies wid dis paper, so as to speed up dat pension\nas fast as I used to speed up them race horses I use to ride on de old\nrace track road from Simpson's to Columbia.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  Sept. 20, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  REMINISCENCES\n\n\n\"I was born July 16, 1852 at Jeter's old mill place in Santuc township.\nThe Neal's Shoal dam now marks the site of the old Jeter mill. My family\nconsisted of my parents and an older brother. My mother was Mandy Clark\nof Union township. My grandfather Clark moved to the Jeter mill and ran\nit for Mr. Jeter. My father, Tom Clark, was a laborer for the Jeters and\nold man Tom Sims up on Broad River at what was then known as Simstown.\nThe Tom Sims and Nat Gist families owned everything in Santuc township\nuntil their lands hit the Jimmie Jeter place.\n\n\"When I was twelve, my father went to the Confederate War. He joined the\nHolcombe Legion of Union County and they went immediately to Charleston.\nThey drilled near the village of Santuc in what was then called\nMulligan's Old Field, now owned by Rion Jeter. This was the only\nmustering ground in our part of the county. The soldiers drilled once a\nweek, and for the 'general muster, all of the companies from Sedalia and\nCross Keys come there once a month. During the summer time they had what\nthey called general drill for a week or ten days. Of course on this\noccasion the soldiers camped over the field in covered wagons. Some came\nin buggies. Slaves, called 'wait-men' cared for the stock and did the\ncooking and other menial duties for their masters.\n\n\"The general store at Santuc and the store at the Cross Roads at Fish\nDam did good business during the summer while the soldiers were in camp.\nThe 'cross roads' have long been done away with at Fish Dam. The store\nwas under a big oak in front of the house now owned and lived in by W.\nH. Gist. The Cross Roads were made by the Fish Dam Ferry Road and the\nold Ninety-Six Road. They tell me that the old Ninety-Six Road was\nstarted as an Indian trail by the Cherokee Indians, way yonder before\nthe Revolution. I have been told that a girl named Emily Geiger rode\nthat ninety-six miles in one day to carry a message to an American\ngeneral. The message kept the general and his army from being captured\nby the red-coats.\n\n\"Near the Kay Jeter place just below the Ninety-six road there was a\nsmall drill ground. The place is now known as the Pittman place and is\nowned by the wife of Dr. J. T. Jeter of Santuc, I believe. Mr. 'Kay'\nwould send a slave on a horse or a mule to notify the men to come and\ndrill there. From here they went on to Mulligan's Field some five or six\nmiles away for the big drills. As I have told you, Mulligan's Field was\nthe big field for all that countryside. They tell me that the same\ndrilling tactics used then and there, are the same used right down\nyonder at Camp Jackson.\n\n\"For about four of five years after the Confederate War, we had very\nlittle to eat. We had given everything we could to the soldiers. After\nthe 'May Surrender' there came a big flood and washed everything away,\nand the crops were so promising that August. As you know, that was in\n'65. The rains and the high water destroyed everything. I do not believe\nthat Broad River and the Forest and Tyger have ever been as high before\nor since.\n\n\"On Henderson's Island they saved no livestock at all. They just did\nmanage to save themselves. They had a hard time getting the slaves to\nthe mainland. Mrs. Sallie Henderson, her step-son, Jack and her son,\nJim, and daughter, Lyde were in the Henderson house when the freshet\ncame down upon them. They had to go up on the second floor of their\nhouse but the water came up there.\n\n\"Mr. Ben Hancock was the ferryman at Henderson's Ferry at this time. Now\nyou know, Henderson's Ferry is on the Enoree just above where it empties\ninto the Broad. Henderson's Island is in the middle of Broad River in\nfull sight of where old Enoree goes into the channel of the Broad. Well,\nMr. Hancock was the best boatman in his day. He knew about the\nHendersons, so he tried to go to them but failed the first three times.\nThe fourth time, he got to the house. When he got there, he found the\nwhites and twenty-five slaves trapped with them.\n\n\"A barrel of flour had caught in the stairway that had washed down the\nriver from somewhere above. This was pulled upstairs and that is what\nMrs. Henderson fed her family and slaves on for about five days, or\nuntil they were rescued by Mr. Hancock. Capt. Jack blew his opossum horn\nevery two hours throughout the day and night to let the people over on\nthe mainland know that they were still safe.\n\n\"For the rest of that year, river folks had very little to eat until\nfood crops were produced the next spring.\n\n\"My own father was shot down for the first time at the Second Battle of\nManassas. Here he got a lick over his left eye that was about the size\nof a bullet; but he said that he thought the lick came from a bit of\nshell. They carried him to a temporary make-shift hospital that had been\nimprovised behind the breastworks. A soldier who was recovering from a\nwound nursed him as best he could.\n\n\"The second time my father was wounded was in Kingston, N.C. He shot a\nYankee from behind a tree and he saw the blood spurt from him as he\nfell. Just about that time he saw another Yankee behind a tree leveling\na gun at him. Father threw up his gun but too late, the Yankee shot and\ntore his arm all to pieces. The bullet went through his arm and struck\nthe corner of his mouth knocking out part of his jaw bone. Then it went\nunder the neck vein and finally it came out on his back knocking a hole\nin one of his shoulder blades large enough to lay your two thumbs in.\nHis gun stock was also cut into. He lay on the battlefield for a whole\nday and night; then he was carried to a house where some kind ladies\nacting as nurses cared for him for over four months. He was sent home\nand dismissed from the army just a mile below Maybinton, S.C. in\nNewberry County. Father was unable to do any kind of work for over two\nyears. The war closed a year after he got home. From that time on I\ncared for my mother and father.\n\n\"We had moved to the plantation of Mr. Ben Maybin in Maybinton before my\nfather was sent home wounded. Father lived until March, 1st, 1932 when\nhe died at the ripe old age of 102. When he died we were living at one\nof the Jeter plantations near Kelley's Chapel, in Fish Dam township,\none-half mile from Old Ninety-Six Road. Father is buried at Kelley's\nChapel.\n\n\"Mr. Harvey has a bullet that Gov. Scott issued to the negroes during\nreconstruction times when he was governor of South Carolina under the\ncarpetbag rule. Scott issued these bullets to the negroes to kill and\nplunder with. Mr. Harvey says that bullets like this one were the cause\nof many negroes finding their graves in the bottom of Broad River. Mr.\nHarvey, so it is said, is still a Ku Klux. They were the chief\ninstruments in getting him into the County Home of Union in 1925.\n\n\"The Ku Klux made a boat twenty-five feet long to carry the negroes down\nthe river. They would take the negroes' own guns, most of them had two\nguns, and tie the guns around their necks in the following manner: The\nbarrel of one gun was tied with wire around the negro's neck, and the\nstock of the other gun was fastened with wire around the negro's neck.\nWhen the captain would say, 'A-M-E-N', over the side of the boat the\nnegro went, with his guns and bullets taking him to a watery grave in\nthe bottom of Broad River. The wooden parts of the guns would rot, and\nsometimes the bodies would wash down on the rocks at Neal's Shoals what\nwas then Jeter's Old Mill. Old gun stocks have been taken from there as\nmementoes.\n\n\"Bill Fitzgerald was my first Ku Klux Captain. He organized the clan in\nNewberry. When I came to the Klan over on the Union side, Judge W. H.\nWallace and Mr. Isaac McKissick were leaders.\n\n\"When we got the negroes from the county jail, the same jail that we\nhave now, that were arrested for killing Matt Stevens, I broke the lock\non the jail door. Buck Allen was the blacksmith. He held a sledge hammer\nunder the lock while I threw a steel hammer overhanded on the lock to\nbreak it.\n\n\"I think Abe Lincoln would have done the South some good if they had let\nhim live. He had a kind heart and knew what suffering was. Lee would\nhave won the war if the mighty Stonewall Jackson had lived. Stonewall\nwas ahead of them all. I had two uncles, Jipp and Charlie Clark in\nStonewall's company. They would never talk much about him after his\ndeath. It hurts them too much, for Stonewall's men loved him so much.\nJeff Davis was a great man, too.\"\n\n  =Source:= Mr. Charlie Jeff Harvey, Rt. 4, Box 85, Union, S.C.\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 8/18/35.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  W.W. Dixon\n  Winnsboro, S.C.\n\n  ELIZA HASTY\n  EX-SLAVE 85 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nEliza Hasty lives with her son-in-law and her daughter, Philip Moore and\nDaisy Moore, in an old time ante bellum home. It has two stories, eight\nrooms, and front and back piazzas, supported by slender white posts or\ncolumns. It is the old William Douglas homestead, now owned by John D.\nMobley. He rents it to Philip Moore, a well behaved Negro citizen, who,\nout of respect for his mother-in-law, Eliza, supports her in the sore\ntrials and helplessness of blindness and old age. The home is five miles\nsoutheast of Blackstock, S.C.\n\n\"Boss, you is a good lookin' man, from de sound of your voice. Blind\nfolks has ways of findin' out things that them wid sight know nothin'\n'bout and nobody can splain. De blindness sharpens de hearin', 'creases\nde tech, prickles de skin, quickens de taste, and gives you de nose of a\nsetter, pointer or hound dog. Was I always blind? Jesus, no! I just got\nde 'fliction several years ago. I see well enough, when I was a young\ngal, to pick out a preacher for my fust husband. So I did! How many\ntimes I been married? Just two times; both husbands dead. Tell you 'bout\nthem directly.\n\n\"What dat? Er ha, ha, ha, ha, er ha, ha, ha! Oh Jesus, you makes me\nlaugh, white folks! De idea of my lossin' my sight a lookin' 'round for\na third husband! You sho' is agreeable. Ain't been so tickled since de\nsecon' time I was a widow. You know my secon' husband was bad after\nblind tiger liquor, and harlot eyed, brassy, hussy women.\n\n\"Well, I comes down to Winnsboro today to see, I should say to find out,\n'cause you know I can't see, 'bout de pension they is givin' out to de\naged and blind. My white folks say dat you wanna see me and here I is.\n\n\"Yes sir, I was born two miles south of Woodward and one mile south of\nold Yonguesville, on de Sterling place. I born a slave of old Marse John\nSterling. Him have a head as red as a pecker-wood bird dat just\nde-sash-sheys 'round de top of dead trees, and make sich a\nrat-ta-ta-tapple after worms. His way of gittin' his meat for dinner. My\nmistress name Betsy. Deir fust child was Robert, dat never marry; him\nteach nearly every school in Fairfield County, off and on befo' he died.\nThen dere was young Marster Tom, small little man, dat carry his\nSeceeder 'ligion so far, him become 'furiated and carry dat 'ligion\nright up and into de Secession War. Make a good soldier, too! General\nBratton call him, 'My Little Jackass of de Sharp Shooters'! Marse Tom\nproud of dat name, from de mouth of a great man lak General John\nBratton.\n\n\"Marse Tom heard de fust gun fire at Fort Sumter, and laid down his gun,\nhim say, under a big horse apple tree at 'Applemattox'.\n\n\"Miss Sallie, one of de chillun, marry Mr. Chris Elder, of Blackstock.\nMiss Hepzibah, they call her Heppie, marry a man named Boyd, in Chester\nCounty. Miss Mary Izabella, they call her Bell, marry Marse John\nDouglas; they are de 'cestors of dat very angel whose house us is\nsettin' in right dis minute. Her name is Martha but when grown-up, they\nsublet (meaning change) dat name to Mattie, and when her marry, her\nbecome Mrs. Thomas P. Bryson. Her is a widow, just lak I is a widow. De\nonly difference is, I's black and her is white. Her can see well enough\nto run after and ketch another man, but I's blind and can't see a man,\nmuch less chase after him. So dere it is! What for you laughin' 'bout?\nNo laughin' business wid me.\n\n\"My pappy no b'long to Marse John Sterling: him slave of de Stinsons.\nHave to git a pass to come to see my mammy, Mary. Him name Aleck. After\nde war him take de name of Alexander Roseboro. Him lak a big long name\ndat would make folks set up and take notice of him.\n\n\"Us live in a little log-house wid a dirt floor. Us had mighty poor\nbeds, I tell you. Us just had planks to lay de wheat straw mattress on.\nPillows? De pillows was just anything you could snatch and put under\nyour head. Yes sir, us had plenty to eat.\n\n\"They 'struct us in de short catechism, make us go to church, and sit up\nin de gallery and jine in de singin' on Sundays. Us was well 'tended to\nwhen sick. Marster didn't have many slaves. 'Members only two they have,\n'sides us; they was Uncle Ned and Cindy. Seem lak dere was another. Oh\nyes! It was Fred, a all 'round de creation boy, to do anything and\neverything. He was a sorta shirt-tail boy dat pestered me sometime wid\ngoo-goo eyes, a standin' in de kitchen door, drappin' his weight from\none foot to de other, a lookin' at me while I was a churnin' or washin'\nde dishes. Dat boy both box-ankle and knock-kneed. When you hear him\ncomin' from de horse lot to de house, his legs talk to one another, just\nlak sayin': 'You let me pass dis time, I let you pass nex' time.' I let\nyou know I had no time for dat ape! When I did git ready to marry, I fly\nhigh as a eagle and ketch a preacher of de Word! Who it was? Him was a\nBaptis' preacher, name Solomon Dixon. 'Spect you hear tell of him. No?\nWell, him b'long, in slavery time, to your Aunt Roxie's people in\nLiberty Hill, Kershaw County. You 'members your Aunt Roxie dat marry\nMarse Ed D. Mobley, her fust cousin, don't you?\n\n\"I love Solomon and went down under de water to be buried wid him in\nbaptism, I sho' did, and I come up out of dat water to be united wid him\nin wedlock. When us marry, him have on a long-tail coat, salt and pepper\ntrousers, box-toed shoes, and a red lead pencil over his ear, just as\nlong as de one I 'spects you is writin' wid, tho' I can't see it.\n\n\"How I dressed? I 'members 'zactly. I wore a blue worsted shirt, over a\nred underskirt, over a white linen petticoat wid tuckers at de hem, just\na little long, to show good and white 'long wid de blue of de skirt and\nde red of de underskirt. Dese all come up to my waist and was held\ntogether by de string dat held my bustle in place. All dis and my corset\nwas hid by de snow white pleated pique bodice, dat drapped gracefully\nfrom my shoulders. 'Round my neck was a string of green jade beads. I\nwore red stockin's and my foots was stuck in soft, black, cloth, gaiter\nshoes.\n\n\"My go-away-hat was 'stonishment to everybody. It was made out of red\nplush velvet and trimmed wid white satin ribbons. In de front, a ostrich\nfeather stood up high and two big turkey feathers flanked de sides. Oh,\nde treasures of memory to de blind. I's happy to sit here and talk to\nyou 'bout dat day! I sho' is!\n\n\"Us live at Marse John Douglas for a time and dat's where my fust child\nwas born. I name her for your Aunt Roxie, tho' I give her de full name,\nRoxanna Dixon. Her marry John Craig. They live on your grandpa\nWoodward's old Nickey place, four miles southeast of Blackstock. I had\nanother baby and I name her Daisy. Her marry Philip Moore. I lives wid\nthem in de old William Douglas mansion. Nearly all de white folks\nleavin' de country dese days and de colored folks gits de fine country\nhouses to live in.\n\n\"Well, after de years fly by, my husband, Solomon, go to de mansion\nprepared for him and me in hebben. I wait a year and a day and marry\nWilliam Hasty. Maybe I was a little hasty 'bout dat, but 'spects it was\nmy fate. Him drink liquor and you know dat don't run to de still waters\nof peace and happiness in de home. Him love me, I no doubt dat, but he\nget off to de bar room at Blackstock, or de still house in bottom lands,\nget drunk and spend his money. De Bible say dat kind of drowsiness soon\nclothe a man in rags. Him dead now. God rest his soul!\n\n\"De Yankees come. They took notice of me! They was a bad lot dat\ndisgrace Mr. Lincoln dat sent them here. They insult women both white\nand black, but de Lord was mindful of his own.\n\n\"I knows nothin' else to tell you, 'less you would be pleased to hear\n'bout what de cyclone did to my old missus and de old Sterling house.\nSomewhere 'bout 1880's one of them super knockshal (equinoctial) storms\ncome 'long, commencin' over in Alabama or Georgia, crossed de Savannah\nRiver, sweep through South Carolina, layin' trees to de ground, cuttin'\na path a quarter of a mile wide, as it traveled from west to east. Every\nhouse it tech, it carry de planks and shingles and sills and joists 'way\nwid it. De old Sterling house was in de path. Dere was a big oak tree in\nde front yard. Old miss and her son, Robert, was dere and Miss Heppie, a\ngranddaughter, was in dat house. De storm hit dat house 'bout 9 o'clock\ndat night and never left a bit of it, 'cept some of de bricks. Some of\nde logs and sills was found de nex' day over at de other side of de\nrailroad track. Some of de planks was found six miles east, some of de\nshingles across Catawba River, 25 miles east, and curious to say, de\nwind blowed old miss against de big oak tree and kill her. It blowed\nMiss Heppie in de top of dat tree where she was settin' a cryin' and\ncouldn't git down, and it never harm a hair of Marse Robert's head. Him\nlook 'round for Miss Heppie, couldn't find her, went off to get help,\nand when they come back, they have to git a ladder from old Mr. Bob\nMobley's house to git her down.\n\n\"Well, here comes my daughters. I hear one outside but I bet you don't\nhear a thing. Dats deir steps I hear. Glad for you to meet them. They is\nmighty fine gals, if I do have to say so. They come up wid good white\nfolks, de Mills'. Marse Jim Mills have family prayer in de mornin' and\nfamily prayer befo' they go to bed. Dat was de fust thing wid him and de\nlast thing wid de Mills' family. If all de families do dat way, dere\nwould be de answer to de prayer, 'Dy kingdom come, Dy will be done, on\nearth, as 'tis in hebben'.\n\n\"Well, give me my stick. Here they is. I bids you goodbye and God bless\nyou.\"\n\n  Reference:\n\n    Personal interview with Aunt Dolly Haynes, age 91\n    Arthurtown, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  AUNT DOLLY HAYNES\n  EX-SLAVE, 91 YEARS OLD, ARTHURTOWN S.C.\n\n\n\"I nebber wuz no rockin' chair setter. I ain't nebber had no time to set\ndown and do nuthin'. I wuz born at Euta, South Carolina. We belong to\nMarse Charlie Baumer. My Ma died and lef four motherless chillun but de\nmissus wuz mighty good to us--call us her chillun. Pa rung de bell on de\nplantation fur ter wake de slaves up fur to go to de fiel'. My Missus\nwuz blind but she wuz a mighty kin' lady. Mek de cook bring plate of\nvittals to see ef it wuz heavy nough for her little chillun.\n\n\"After freedom all us moved wid de Marse and Missus to Childs, South\nCarolina and I mar'd Paul Haynes, who belonged to old Colonel Hampton.\n\n\"Paul wanted to preach but nedder of us had no learnin' an' I say to\nPaul, 'Does you think you got nough learnin' to lead a flock of people?\nI don' wan' you to git up an' mek me shame.' I tell him to go to de\nBenedicts an' see what book he needs to study, come by town bring me a\npair of broggans for me, 'cause I wuz a-gwine to wuk and he wuz a-gwine\nto school. For t'ree long years I plowed de farm an' sent Paul to de\nBenedicts 'til he wuz edicated. De briars cut my legs an' de breshes\ntore my skirt, but I tuck up de skirt an' plow right on 'til I bought my\nlittle farm. Paul bin dead now 'bout twelve years, but he preached right\nup to de day he died.\n\n\"I got a neffu but I lives alone, wen deys some one in de house I puts\ndown and dey picks up--I cleans up and dey tears up. I don' owe nobody\nnuthin'. Wen de nurvus spells leaves me an' I feels a little strong in\nde legs I wuks mah garden. I loves to be doin' somethin' to keep clean,\n'cause I jes ain't no rockin chair setter\".\n\n\n\n\n  Code No.\n  Project, 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, November 11, 1937\n\n  Reduced from ---- words\n  Rewritten by ----\n\n  LINEY HENDERSON\n  EX-SLAVE, 70 YEARS\n\n\n\"Accordin to de way dey figures up my age, dey say I 70 now en I\nbelieves dat right, too, en de government ought to give me somethin.\nWhen we was born, de white folks put us chillun age down in de Bible en\nI know from dat I been 19 years old de year of de shake. Cose I gets\nclothes give to me, but no help no more den dat en all dis here wood en\ncoal bill put on me. No, mam, ain' got no support to help me out no\ntime. But justice will plum de line some day. I just gwine leave it in\nde hands of de Lord. Ain' gwine cry over it.\"\n\n\"I tell you, I been wid white folks all my days en I was properly cared\nfor long as I been in dey protection. I suffers now more den I is ever\nthink bout would come to me. Yes, mam, I done raise over 20 head of\nwhite chillun. Dat de God truth. I been in de white folks kitchen all my\ndays en if I feel right, I think dey ought to take of me in my old age.\nI don' brag on myself, but if I could work like I used to, I wouldn' ax\nnothin from nobody. I had a family of white people to send for me de\nother week to come en live wid dem en dey would take care of me, but I\nnever had nobody to trust aun' Sallie wid. You see, child, she such a\nhelpless, poor creature just settin dere in dat bed all de time en can'\nsee to do one thing widout I give her my hand. Cose de government helps\naun' Sallie, but dat ain' me. En, honey, I ain' even able to stand up en\niron, I has dis rheumatism so bad. It hurts me so terrible at night, I\nhas to keep my foots out from under de cover. It a sort of burnin\nrheumatism like. Yes, mam, it does worry me right smart.\"\n\n\"Oh, my Lord, I was raise down dere to old Dr. Durant plantation. Yes,\nmam, dem Durants had everything right to dey hand. Never had to want for\na glass of water or nothin en didn' none of Dr. Durant's colored people\nnever had no trouble wid de law from de time de law take care to dis. I\nremember old Massa would always kill his plantation people a cow on de\nfourth of July en couldn' never count de number of hogs dey would have,\ndere be so many. Honey, dey would take dem hogs up dis time of de year\nfrom out de swamp en put dem in dey fattenin pen. Lord, Lord, de many a\ntime dat I been see dem take bucket on a bucket of milk to dat pen. When\nmy mother was dere helpin dem, dey used to been a week to a time tryin\nup lard en makin blood puddin en sausage en joinin up ears en things\nlike dat. Yes, mam, all dey plantation niggers what been helpin dat day\nset for hog killin would eat to de white folks yard. Dey would just put\ntwo or three of dese big wash pot out in de yard en full dem up wid\nbackbone en haslets en rice to satisfy dem hungry niggers wid en would\nbake de corn bread to de Missus kitchen. I mean dey would have hog\nkillin days den, too. Would have dese long old benches settin out dere\nunder de trees to work on--long benches, child. Some days, dey would\nkill 15 hogs en some days, dey would kill 20 hogs en I mean dey was\nhogs, not pigs. De number dey would kill would be accordin to how many\nhands was helpin de day dey pick to kill. You see, dey would kill dem\none day en hang dem up en den dey would set de next day to cut dem up.\nOh, dey would hang dem up right out to de eyes of everybody en didn'\nnobody never have no mind to bother nothin. My Lord, couldn' trust to do\nnothin like dat dese days. En dey had de nicest homemade butter en whip\ncream dere all de time. Seems like things was just more plentiful en dey\nwas better in dat day en time.\"\n\n\"It just like I tellin you, it de way of de past, everything had to be\ncarried out right on Dr. Durant's plantation. When freedom come here,\ndere couldn' no head never get dem colored people to leave from dere.\nYes, mam, dey great grand-chillun dere carryin on to dis very day. Dem\nDurant chillun ain' never had to hunt for no hand to do somethin for\ndem. Yes, mam, my white folks had dey own colored people graveyard what\nwas corn crated in en it still dere right now. When one of de colored\npeople on de plantation would die, dey white folks would be right dere\nto de funeral. En it de blessed truth, old Dr. Durant had his own\ncarpenters right dere on de plantation to make de corpse boxes en line\ndem en all dat en dig de graves. Dat was a day, honey, en dat a day gone\nfrom here, I say.\"\n\n\"I ain' never been one of dese peck abouts when I was comin on cause I\ndidn' done nothin, but nurse de white folks chillun dat was comin up.\nYes, mam, I would go all bout wid de white people. Dey never didn' leave\nme home. Lord, de chillun what I nurse, dey got seven en eight head of\nchillun of dey own now. Like I been tellin you, some of dem beg me to\ncome en live wid dem, but my God, I can' struggle wid dem chillun no\nmore after I done wash baby breeches all my best days, so to speak. Yes,\nmy Lord, dem chillun would get dey 10:30 lunch in de mornin en I been\nget mine, too. Ain' never had to work in de field in all my life.\nAnybody can tell you dat what know me.\"\n\n\"I has a little boy stayin here wid me en aun' Sallie what was give to\nme. I don' never think hard of de people for not fussin bout him stayin\nhere cause he helps me so much. No, mam, I know his mother fore she die\nen he been stayin wid his aun' en she chillun en dey treat him mean. He\nbeen raise to himself en he can' stand no other chillun en he come home\nfrom school one day en ax me to let him stay here wid me. No, child, he\nain' no trouble cause de Lord give me dat child. He can stay out dere in\ndat yard right by himself en play all day fore he would ever get dirty\nup.\"\n\n\"Well, I tell you, I don' know hardly what to say bout how de world\ngwine dese days. I just afraid to say bout it. I know one thing, I used\nto live better, but President Roosevelt, seem like he tryin to do de\nright thing. But if I could be de whole judge of de world, I think de\nbest thing would be for de people to be on dey knees en prayin. De\npeople talkin bout fightin all de time en dis here talk bout fightin in\nde air, dat what got my goat. Might lay down at night sound en wake up\nin de mornin en find us all in destructiveness. I say, de Lord all what\ncan save dis country.\"\n\n  =Source:= Liney Henderson, age 70, colored, Marion, S.C.\n          Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 1937.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  W.W. Dixon\n  Winnsboro, S.C.\n\n  JIM HENRY\n  EX-SLAVE 77 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nJim Henry lives with his wife, Mary, in a four-room frame house, three\nmiles southeast of Winnsboro, S.C. He owns the house and nine acres of\nland. He has only one arm, the other having been amputated twenty years\nago. He employs a boy to plough, and he and his wife make a living on\nthe property.\n\n\"I was born in the Bratton slave quarter, about six miles northeast of\nWinnsboro. I was born a slave of General John Bratton. He use to tell me\nI come from 'stinguished stock, dat he bought my father, James, from de\nPatrick Henry family in Virginia. Dat's de reason my pappy and us took\ndat name after freedom.\n\n\"My mother, Silva, and her mother, was bought from de Rutledge family in\nCharleston, by General Bratton. My grandfather, on my mother's side, was\nname Edward Rutledge. No, sir, I don't mean he was a white man; he just\nginger-cake color, so my mother say. My pappy say his father was a\nfull-blooded Indian, so, dat makes three bloods in my veins, white\nfolks, Indian folks, and Negro folks. Derefore, us been thrifty like de\nwhite man, crafty like de Indians, and hard workin' like de Negroes.\n\n\"In slavery time, us lived in one of de nice log houses in de Bratton\nquarters. Our beds was pole beds, wid wheat straw ticks, and cotton\npillows. De Brattons was always sheep raisers, and us had woolen\nblankets and woolen clothes in de winter. My mother was one of de\nseamstresses; she make clothes for de slaves. Course, I'm tellin' you\nwhat she tell me, mostly. I was too little to 'member much 'bout slavery\ntime. All de little niggers run 'round in deir shirt-tails in summer\ntime; never work any, just hunt for grapes, muscadines, strawberries,\nchinquapins, hickory nuts, calamus root, slippery elmer (elm) bark, wild\ncherries, mulberries, and red and black haws, and was as happy as de\ndays was long.\n\n\"I just can 'member de Yankees. Don't 'member dat they was so bad. You\nknow they say even de devil ain't as black as he is painted. De Yankees\ndid take off all de mules, cows, hogs, and sheep, and ransack de\nsmoke-house, but they never burnt a thing at our place. Folks wonder at\ndat. Some say it was 'cause General Bratton was a high 'gree mason.\n\n\"While Marse John, who was a Confederate General, was off in de war, us\nhad overseers. They made mother and everybody go to do field. De little\nchillun was put in charge, in de daytime, wid an old 'mauma', as they\ncalled them in them days. Dere was so many, twenty-five or thirty, dat\nthey had to be fed out of doors. At sundown they was 'sembled in a tent,\nand deir mammies would come and git them and take them home. Dere used\nto be some scrappin' over de pot liquor dat was brought out in big pans.\nDe little chillun would scrouge around wid deir tin cups and dip into de\npan for de bean, pea, or turnip pot liquor. Some funny scraps took\nplace, wid de old mauma tryin' to separate de squallin', pushin',\nfightin' chillun.\n\n\"De overseers was Wade Rawls and a Mr. Timms. After freedom, us moved to\nWinnsboro, to Dr. Will Bratton's farm near Mt. Zion College. I went to\nschool to Mr. Richardson and Miss Julia Fripp, white teachers employed\nby northern white people. I got very 'ligious 'bout dat time, but de\nbrand got all rubbed out, when us went to work for Major Woodward. His\n'ligion was to play de fiddle, go fox huntin', and ride 'round gittin'\nNegroes to wear a red shirt and vote de democrat ticket. I went 'long\nwid him and done my part. They tell a tale on Marse Tom Woodward and I\n'spects it's true:\n\n\"He was runnin' for some kind of office and was goin', nex' day, up in\nde dark corner of Fairfield to meet people. Him hear dat a old fellow\nname Uriah Wright, controlled all de votes at dat box and dat he was a\nfox hunter to beat de band. He 'quire 'round 'bout Mr. Wright's dogs. He\nfind out dat a dog name 'Ring Smith' was de best 'strike'. Jolly Wright\nwas de name of de cold 'trailer', and Molly Clowney was de fastest dog\nof de pack. Marse Tom got all dis well in his mind, and nex' day rode up\nto old Mr. Wright's, 'bout dinner time.\n\n\"De old man had just come in from de field. Marse Tom rode up to de gate\nand say; 'Is dis Dr. Wright?' De old man say: 'Dat's what de people call\nme 'round here.' Marse Tom say: 'My name is Woodward. I am on my first\npolitical legs, and am goin' 'round to see and be seen, if not by\neverybody, certainly by de most prominent and 'fluential citizens of\neach section.' Then de old man say: 'Git down. Git down. You are a\nmonstrous likely man. I'll take you in to see Pinky, my wife, and we'll\nsee what she has to say 'bout it.'\n\n\"Marse Tom got down off his horse and was a goin' to de house talkin'\nall de time 'bout crops. Spyin' de dogs lyin' 'round in de shade, him\nsay: 'Dr. Wright, I am a 'culiar man. I love de ladies and admire them\nmuch but, if you'll pardon my weakness, a fine hound dog comes nearer\nperfection, in my eye, than anything our Father in heaven ever made to\nlive on this green earth!'\n\n\"'And what do you know 'bout hounds?' Old man Uriah asked, turnin' from\nde house and followin' Marse Tom to where de dogs was. Marse Tom set\ndown. De whole pack come to where he was, sniffed and smelt him, and wag\ndeir tails in a friendly way. Marse Tom say: 'What is de name of dis\ndog? Ring Smith, did you say, Doctor? An uncommon fine dog he seems to\nme. If dere be any truth in signs, he oughta be a good strike.' De old\nman reply: 'Good strike, did you say? If dere was 5,000 dogs here, I\nwould bet a million dollars dat Ring Smith would open three miles ahead\nof the best in de bunch. And you might go befo' a trial justice and\nswear it was a fox, when he opened on de trail.'\n\n\"Marse Tom nex' examined de pale black and tan dog, which was Jolly\nWright, de coldest trailer. Feelin' his nose and eyein' him all over, he\nsay at last: 'Dr. Wright, I think dis is one of de most remarkable dogs\nI has ever seen. I would say he is de coldest trailer of your pack?'\n\n\"'Coldest, did you say? Why he can smell them after they have been along\nthree or four weeks.' Molly Clowney was nex' picked out by Marse Tom,\nand come in for his turn. 'Here ought to be de apple of your eyes, Dr.\nWright,' say Marse Tom, 'for if I know anything 'bout dogs, this is the\nswiftest animal dat ever run on four feet. Tell me now, honor bright,\ncan't she out run anything in these parts?'\n\n\"'Run, did you say? No. She can't run a bit. But dere ain't a crow nor a\nturkey buzzard, dat ever crossed de dark corner, dat can hold a candle\nto her flyin'. I've seen her run under them and outrun deir shadows many\ntimes. Dinner is 'bout ready, and I want you to meet Pinky.'\n\n\"Marse Tom was took in de house and de old man led him 'round like a\nfine horse at a show or fair. 'Why, Pinky, he is smart; got more sense\nthan all de candidates put together. He is kin to old preacher Billy\nWoodward, de smartest man, I heard my daddy say, in Europe, Asia,\nAfrica, North America, or South America.' They say Marse Tom promised\nbefo' he left to pass a bill dat no fence was to be higher than five\nrails, to suit fox hunters. Then de old man tell Miss Pinky to bring his\nfiddle, and he played 'De Devil's Dream'. When he finished, Marse Tom\ngrab de fiddle and played: 'Hell Broke Loose In Georgia', wid such power\nand skill dat de old man, Uriah, hugged Miss Pinky and cut de 'Pigeon\nWing' all over de floor. Marse Tom, they say, carry every vote at dat\ndark corner box.\n\n\"I fall in love with Mary Hall. Got her, slick as a fox. Us had ten\nchillun. Eight is livin'. Robert is at de Winnsboro Cotton Mills. Ed in\nde same place. Estelle marry a Ford, and has some land near Winnsboro.\nMaggie marry a Pickett. Her husband took her to Washington. John Wesley\nis at Greensboro. Florence marry a Barber and lives in Winston Salem,\nN.C. Charley is in Winnsboro. Corinne marry a McDuff and is in\nWinnsboro.\n\n\"Mighty glad to talk to you, and will come some day and try to bring you\na 'possum. You say you would like to have one 'bout Thanksgivin' Day?\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLKLORE\n  Spartanburg Dist. 4\n  June 1, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"Yas Sir, my ole Marster had lots o' land, a big plantation down at\nLockhart whar I was born, called de Herndon Plantation. Den he live in a\nbig house jes' outside o' Union, called 'Herndon Terrace', and 'sides\ndat, he was de biggest lawyer dat was in Union.\n\n\"Furs' 'membrance was at de age o' three when as yet I couldn't walk\nnone. My mother cooked some gingerbread. She told de chilluns to go down\na hill and git her some oak bark. De furs' one back wid de bark 'ud git\nde furs' gingerbread cake dat was done. My sister sot me down, a sliding\ndown de side o' her laag, atter she had carried me wid her down de side\no' de hill. Dem big chaps started to fooling time away. I grab up some\nbark in my hand and went toddling and a crawling up to de house. My\nmother seed me a crawling and toddling, and she took de bark out'n my\nhand and let me pull up to de do'. She cook de gingerbread, and when de\nother chilluns got back, I was a setting up eating de furs' cake.\n\n\"She put gingerbread dough in a round oven dat had laags on hit. It\nlooked like a skillet, but it never had no handle. It had a lid to go on\nde top wid a groove to hold live coals. Live coals went under it, too.\nMother wanted oak chips and bark, 'cause dey made sech good hot coals\nand clean ashes.\n\n\"Pots biled in de back o' de chimney, a hanging from a pot rack over de\nblazing fire. It had pot hooks to git it down.\n\n\"Bread was cooked in a baker like de ginger cake was. Dey roasted both\nkinds o' 'taters in de ashes and made corn bread in de ashes and called\nit ash cake, den.\n\n\"Us lived in a one-room log house. Fer de larger families, dey had two\nrooms wid de fire place in de middle o' de room. Our'n was at de end by\nde winder. It had white or red oak, or pine shingles to kivver de roof\nwid. O' course de shingles was hand made, never know'd how to make no\nother'n.\n\n\"All beds was corded. Along side de railings, dar was holes bored to\ndraw de ropes through, as dese was what dey used in dem days instead o'\nslats. Ropes could be stretched to make de bed lay good. Us never had a\nchair in de house. My paw made benches fer us to set by de fire on.\nMarse Zack let de overseer git planks fer us. My paw was called Lyles\nHerndon. We had a large plank table dat paw made. Never had no mirrows.\nWent to de spring to see ourselfs on a Sunday morning. Never had no sech\nthings as dressers in dem days. All us had, was a table, benches and\nbeds. And my paw made dem. Had plenty wood fer fire and pine knots fer\nlights when de fire git low or stop blazing.\n\n\"Us had tallow candles. Why ev'ybody know'd how to make taller candles\nin dem days, dat wudd'n nothing out de ordinary. All you had to do, was\nto kill a beef and take de taller from his tripe and kidneys. See, it de\nfat you gits and boil it out. Stew it down jes' as folks does hog lard\ndese days. De candle moulds was made out'n tin. Fer de wicks, all de\nwrapping string was saved up, and dar wasn't much wrapping string in dem\ntimes. Put de string right down de middle o' de mould and pour de hot\ntaller all around it. De string will be de wick fer de candle. Den de\nmoulds was laid in raal cold water so dat de taller shrink when it\nharden, and dis 'low de candle to drap easy from de mould and not break\nup. Why, it's jes' as easy to make taller candles as it is to fall off'n\na log.\n\n\"Firs' lamp dat I ever seed was a tin lamp. Dat was at Dr. Bates' place\nin Santuc. Him and his brother, Fair, lived together. It was a little\ntable lamp wid a handle and a flat wick. He had it in his house. I was\nDr. Bates' house-boy.\n\n\"My son tuck me back to Union last year, 1936, I 'members. Nothing\ndidn't look natual 'cept de jail. Ev'ything else look strange. Didn't\nsee nobody I knowed, not narry living soul. Marse big white house, wid\ndem kallems (columns) still setting dar; but de front all growed up in\npine trees. When I slave time darkey, dat front had flowers and figgers\n(statues), setting all along de drive from de road to de big house.\nT'aint like dat now.\n\n\"Atter Mr. Herndon died, I was sold at de sale at Lockhart, to Dr. Tom\nBates from Santuc. He bought me fer $1800 so as dey allus told me. Marse\nZack had a hund'ed slaves on dat plantation. Stout, healthy ones, brung\nfrom $1,000 on up to $2,000 a head. When I was a young kid, I heard dat\nhe was offered $800 fer me, but he never tuck it. Dis de onliest time\ndat I was ever sold. Marse Zack never bred no slaves, but us heard o'\nsech afar off. He let his darkies marry when dey wanted to. He was a\ngood man and he allus 'lowed de slaves to marry as dey pleased, 'cause\nhe lowed dat God never intent fer no souls to be bred as if dey was\ncattle, and he never practice no sech.\n\n\"I is old and I does not realize who Marse Zack's overseer was, kaise\ndat been a long while. I was Dr. Bates' house-boy. I allus heard dat\nDr. Bates bought my maw fer $1,500, at de same time he bought me. He\ngive $2,000 fer my paw. My brother, Jim, was bought fer $1,800.\nAdolphus, 'bout fifteen years old, sold fer 'bout $1,400; and my onliest\nsister, Matilda, was bought fer a maid gal, but I cannot recollect fer\nwhat price. She was purty good size gal den. All o' dem is dead now but\nme, even all my white folks is done gone. I sees a lonely time now, but\nmy daughter treat me kind. I live wid her now.\n\n\"Dr. Bates' brother, Fair, was single man dat live in de house wid Dr.\nBates fer thirteen years. I lived in slavery fer over twenty-one years.\nYas, I's twenty-one when Freedom come; and den Dr. Bates up and marry\nMr. Henry Sartor's daughter, Miss Ma'y. Don't know how long she live,\nbut she up and tuck and died; den he pop up and marry her sister, Anne.\nIt was already done Freedom when he marry de furs' time. When he married\nde second time, Mr. Fair, up and went over to de Keenan place to live.\nHe never did marry, hisself, 'though.\n\n\"As house-boy dar, I mind de flies from de table and tote dishes to and\nfro from de kitchen. Kitchen fer ways off from de house. James Bates,\nhis cook. Sometime I help wash de dishes. Marse never had no big house,\nkaise he was late marrying. Dar wasn't no company in dem days, neither.\n\n\"Rations was give out ev'y week from de smokehouse. Twenty-five or\nthirty hogs was killed at de time. Lots o' sheep and goats was also\nkilled. All our meat was raised, and us wore wooden-bottom shoes. Raised\nall de wheat and corn. Hogs, cows, goats and sheep jes' run wild on\nTinker and Brushy Fork Creeks. On Sat'day us git one peck meal; three\npounds o' meat and one-half gallon black molasses fer a person; and\ndat's lot mo' dan dey gits in dese days and times. Sunday morning, us\ngit two, or maybe three pounds o' flour. Didn't know nothing 'bout no\nfat-back in dem times. Had sassafras and sage teas and 'dinty' tea\n(dinty tea is made from a wild S.C. weed).\n\n\"Marse's coachman called Tom 'Cuff', kaise he bought from old Dr. Culp.\nHe driv two black hosses to de carriage. Marse's saddle hoss was kinder\nreddish. Gen'ally he do his practice on hossback. He good doctor, and\ncarry his medicine in saddle bags. It was leather and fall on each side\no' de hoss's side. When you put something in it, you have to keep it\nbalanced. Don't never see no saddle bags; neither does you see no\ndoctors gwine round on no hosses dese days.\n\n\"Never seed no ice in dem days 'cep in winter. Summer time, things was\nkept in de milk-house. Well water was changed ev'y day to keep things\ncool. Ev'ybody drink milk in de summer, and leave off hot tea, and de\nwhite folks only drink coffee fer dere breakfast. T'other times dey also\ndrink milk. It bees better fer your health all de time.\n\n\"At de mouth o' Brushy Fork and Tinker Creek whar dey goes together dar\nis a large pond o' water. Us n'used to fish in dat pond. One day, me and\nMatilda tuck off a-fishing. I fell in dat pond, and when I riz up, a\nraft o' brush held my head under dat water and I couldn't git out no\nways. 'Tilda sees my dangerment, and she jump in dat deep water and pull\nme from under dat raff. She couldn't swim but us both got out. Can't\nthink no mo' today.\"\n\n  =Source:= Zack Herndon, Grenard St., Gaffney, S.C. (col. 93)\n          Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 5/11/37\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  Stiles M. Scruggs\n  Columbia S.C.\n\n  LAVINIA HEYWARD'S STORY\n  OF SLAVERY AND RECONSTRUCTION.\n\n\nLavinia Heyward, a Negro woman 67 years old, living at 515 Marion\nStreet, Columbia, S.C., is a daughter of ex-slaves. Her parents were\nPeter Jones and Rachel Bryant Jones. They married in Columbia, soon\nafter they were freed, in 1865. Lavinia reviews her mother's experiences\nwith a famous South Carolina family, before and after bondage, and takes\na glance at Columbia's progress in the past half century.\n\n\"Sho' I's been here 67 years, and I's seen a stragglin' town of 10,000\ngrow from poverty to de present great city and riches. Shucks, I 'spects\nif you was to set me down at Broad River bridge and tell me to go home,\nI might git lost tryin' to find my way to where I has lived for many\nyears. Durin' my time I's sho' seen dis city sad and glad, and I's happy\nto say dat it seem to be feelin' a right smart lak itself now.\n\n\"My mammy, and her daddy and mammy, was bought from de Bryants at\nBeaufort by de Rhett family, when my mammy was a little pickaninny. She\nnot able to tell nothin' 'bout her 'speriences with de Bryants, but she\nsho' recall a lot of things after she jine de Rhetts. She live with them\n'til she was just turnin' twelve years old, then she come to Columbia as\na slave of Master John T. Rhett. He move here, as a refugee, in 1862.\nMaster Rhett was not healthy 'nough to go to war but some of his folks\ngo.\n\n\"One of Master Rhett's brothers, who was too old to go to war, march\n'way to fight Yankees at Honey Hill. De Yankee fleet send an army in\nboats to cut de Charleston and Savannah Railroad, and de Confederates\nmeet them at Honey Hill, half way 'tween Beaufort and Savannah. In a\nbloody battle dere de Confederates won. Master Rhett, of Beaufort was\nwounded dere, and his brother, John, leave Columbia and go dere to see\nhim while he was in bed, battlin' for life.\n\n\"My mammy never work in de field at Beaufort, nor after she come to\nColumbia. She was kep' on duty in de big house and learned to sew and\nmake garments, quilts, and things. She also learn to read, write, and\ncipher, and she could sing many of de church songs them days. She play\nwith de white chillun dat come to see de Rhetts in Beaufort and in\nColumbia. She tell me 'bout things in Beaufort, where de Rhetts live\nthen.\n\n\"She say de Rhetts has been buckra since de time when Colonel William\nRhett go out in his battle ships to chase and kill pirates, in de days\nwhen Carolina was ruled by de King of England. She say they own many big\nplantations in Beaufort County and raise big crops of rice and sea\nisland cotton. She say de sea island cotton was so costly that it was\nhandpicked by slaves and placed in hundred pounds sacks. Then it was\nshipped to France and de growers reap a rich harvest.\n\n\"Mammy tell us chillun dat de Rhetts sho' was de 'big folks' of South\nCarolina, and I reckons dat's so, 'cause de books, swords, guns,\nwindlasses and things lak dat, in a room at de John T. Rhett home, show\nwhat they has been doin' for several hundred years.\n\n\"Oh yes, you wants to know where 'bouts John T. Rhett live in Columbia?\nHe live at de house now number 1420 Washington Street, right 'cross de\nstreet from where de parsonage of the Washington Street Methodist Church\nnow stands. I go dere with Mammy, often, and play 'round de yard. Mammy\nalways work dere as long as she able to serve a-tall. She take sick and\ndie in 1883.\n\n\"Master John T. Rhett was mayor of de city three times, in 1882, 1884\nand in 1886. I knows well, 'cause he see to it dat us chillun go to\nschool, 'long 'bout then, and not a one of us has been unable to read,\nwrite, and cipher since. He see dat we gits chances to become useful\ncitizens, and his very name is sweet to me since he died.\n\n\"You ask if I knows R. Goodwin Rhett of Charleston? I sho' does; I has\ntalked with him and he ask me many questions. He was born in Columbia\nbut move to Charleston many years ago and, lak the buckra dat he is, he\nclimb to de top as de mayor of Charleston, big banker, and president of\nde Chamber of Commerce of de United States. So you see, my mammy was\nlucky in livin' with such a fine family.\n\n\"You asks if my man (husband) has come down from de Heyward family of de\nCombahee River slaves? No. He come from de North and he say dere was\nHeywards up dere, both white and black. He got that name in de North. He\nhas been a carpenter, hired by de month, at de State Hospital for many\nyears, and we bought dis two-story home by de sweat of our brow. We\nlives, and has always lived, as my mammy tell us to. And we git 'long\npretty well by trustin' in God and doin' our best.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Mrs. Chlotilde R. Martin\n  Beaufort County\n\n  Approx. 530 Words\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  Stories from Ex-slaves\n  Lucretia Heyward\n  Ex-slave Age - 96\n\n\nW'en gun fust shoot on Hilton Head Islandt, I been 22 year old. Muh Pa\nname Tony MacKnight and he b'long to Mr. Stephen Elliott. My Ma name\nVenus MacKnight and she b'long to Mr. Joe Eddings, who had uh plantation\non Parri (Parris) Islandt. De overseer been Edward Blunt. He been poor\nwhite trash, but he wuk haa'd and save he money and buy slave. He buy my\nMa and bring she to Beaufort to wuk in he house by de Baptist chu'ch. I\nbeen born den. I hab seven brudder name Jacob, Tony, Robert, Moses--I\ncan't 'member de odders, it been so long ago. I hab one sister\nEliza--she die de odder day.\n\nW'en I been little gal, I wuk in de house. Wuk all day. I polish knife\nand fork, mek bed, sweep floor, nebber hab time for play game. W'en I\ngit bigger, dey send me to school to Miss Crocker to learn to be\nseamstruss.\n\nW'en I small, I sleep on floor in Miss Blunt room. I eat food left ober\nfrom table. Dey nebber learn me to read and write. I ain't hab time for\nsech t'ing. I go to chu'ch in white Baptis' chu'ch. Nigger hab for sit\nup stair, white folks sit down stair. If nigger git sick, dey send for\ndoctor to 'tend um. Mr. Blunt nebber lick me, but Miss Blunt cut my back\nw'en I don't do to suit her. Nigger git back cut w'en dey don't do wuk\nor w'en dey fight. Dey hab uh jail in town, run by Mr. McGraw. If nigger\nbe too bad, run street and t'ing, he git in jail and Mr. McGraw lick um.\nI been lock in jail one time. Dey hang me up by wrist and beat me\ntwenty-five lick wid uh cowhide. I forgit w'at I don't to git dat.\n\nW'en Yankee been come de Blunts leab Beaufort, and I walk out house and\ngo back to Parri Islandt. De Yankee tell we to go en Buckra corn house\nand git w'at we want for eat. Den I come back to Beaufort and go to wuk\nin cotton house (gin.) De Yankee pay we for wuk and I tek my money and\nbuy twenty acre ob land on Parri Islandt. I ain't had dat land now\n'cause de Government tek em for he self and mek me move. (This was when\nthe Government bought Parris Island for a naval station.)\n\nI been hab two husband. De fust name Sephus Brown. How I 'member w'en he\ndie, it been de year ob de ninety-tree storm. My odder husband been\nCupid Heyward--he daid (dead) too.\n\nI hear tell ob de Ku Klux, but I nebber shum (see them). I don't know\nnuting 'bout no night rider.\n\nSee um sell slabe? I see um. Dey put um on banjo table and sell um just\nlak chicken. Nigger ain't no more den chicken and animal, enty? (isn't\nit so?)\n\nAbraham Lincoln? Sho' I 'members him. He de one w'at gib us freedom,\nenty? He come to Beaufort. He come 'fo de war. He sho been one fine man.\nHe come to Beaufort on uh ship and go all 'round here, but I nebber\nshum.\n\nJefferson Davis? No I nebber hear ob him. Booker T. Washington. I\n'members him. I hear him mek speech in Beaufort. It been uh beautiful\nspeech. Dat been one smaa't colored man.\n\nW'at I t'ink 'bout slabery? Huh--nigger git back cut in slabery time,\nenty?\n\nDoes I hate Mr. Blunt? No, I ain't hate um. He poor white trash but he\ndaid now. He hab he self to look out for, enty? He wuk, he sabe he money\nfor buy slabe and land. He git some slabe, but he nebber git any\nland--de war cum.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler\n  Murrells Inlet, S.C.\n  Georgetown County\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  AUNT MARIAH HEYWOOD\n\n\nAunt Mariah Heywood, born in 1855, was 'Allston labor' on Waccamaw Neck.\nGiven as a bridal present to 'Miss Susan Alston by her father, Mr.\nDuncan Alston of Midway Plantation Waccamaw, Aunt Mariah has for the\nlast fifty years lived much in the past when 'I wuz raise on the cream\nof the earth' and her head is just a little higher and her backbone just\na little stiffer than that of the average colored person because of\npride--family pride--in her people--her white people. And as one can\nreadily see from her testimony, her chief cause for her pardonable\nsnobbery seems to be that her Massa was the last man to surrender and\n\"swear gainst his swear.\"\n\nHer sons, one of whom is a preacher in the Methodist Conference and 'one\na zorter--a locust' and her youngest son John (who got all the credrick)\nhave built her a comfortable house (painted a bilious yaller) which she\nkeeps clean and sweet with flowers in the front yard--two treasured\nplants having been sent by her brother (born after mancipations) clean\nfrom Pittsburgh.\n\nThe fact that she was raised by aristocrats shows plainly in her dealing\nwith both races and she is a leader in church activities and her opinion\nvalued when a vote is taken about school matters.\n\nBeing the oldest 'communion steward' she is affectionately spoken of as\n'THE MOTHER OF HEAVEN'S GATE'--the Methodist church founded in Murrells\nInlet community by colored leaders shortly after Mancipation.\n\n\"Aunt Mariah, you home?\"\n\n\"Missus, what you brought me?\"\n\n\"------------\n\n\"I too thank you.\"\n\n(Soon she began to reminisce)\n\n\"You could hear 'em over there slamming and banging. The Yankee tear up\nthe Dr. Flagg house but they didn't come Sunnyside. Bright day too! Old\nman Thomas Stuart lead 'em to Hermitage. Had team they take from Mr.\nBetts and team they take from Dr. Arthur to Woodland. Free everywhere\nelse and we wasn't free Sunnyside till June third or second. Sunday we\ngot our freedom. Bright day too. Our colored people fare just like the\nwhite; wearing, eating, drinking. I wuz raise on the cream of earth.\n\n\"They wuz glad. Sign a contract for your boss you would work the same\nand get pay the end of the year-and tend you when you sick all the\nsame.\" (The same medical attention to be given that was given before\n'Freedom') \"Big guns shooting! House jar to Sunnyside and one day water\nshake out the glass! Miss Susan take her spyglass and stand behind one\nthem big posses (posts) and spy them big boats shooting. And boss say,\n'Don't get in front of them posses-they might shoot you!'\n\n\"Yankee come to Mrs. Belin and Parson Betts. And they tell Mrs. Belin,\nthey want her to know no more slave holding and she thank 'em and she\nsay, HE people wuz always free! Grandma Harriet, (Harriet Mortor wuz her\ntitle but that time they always gone by they Master title). Joe Heywood\nwuz Joe Belin--he was Parson Belin man--he take the Heywood title after\nmancipation. Poinsette (Uncle Fred) ALWAYS carry that title. That day,\nall the right hand servant always take they Massa title. When the big\ngun shooting, old people in the yard, 'Tank God! Massa, HE COMING!'\n(Referring to 'Freedom') 'HE COMING!' (Guns gone just like thunders roll\nnow!) Chillun say, \"What coming? What coming? What coming, Grandma?\"\n\n'You all will know! You all will know!'\n\n\"Massa live 'Wee ha kum' for years. We are fifty-five (55) chillun. Mary\nRutledge Allston and I one year chillun.\" (She and Mary R. Allston born\nsame year.) \"My missus have four chillun--Mary Rutledge, Susan Bethune,\nMarsa Pink and Marse Fanuel. (Benjamine Nathaniel!)\n\n\"Four years of the war been hold prayer-meeting.\" (Praying for\n'freedom'). Lock me up in house. Me, I been PREsent to Miss Minna--'Miss\nMary! We, us lock up! My brother and I listen! (Two brother mancipation\nchillun. Smart Robert Brockington and Harrison Franklin Brockington in\nPittsburgh. I nuss (nurse) him--jess like you hold that book.) Old\npeople used to go to Richmond Hill, Laurel Hill and Wachesaw have these\nlittle prayer-meeting. All bout in people house. Hold the four year of\nthe war. Great many time the chicken crow for day. Hear the key. We say\n'Yeddy!' Change clothes. Gone on in the house. Get that eight, seven\no'clock breakfast.'\n\n\"Parson Glennie (Rector All Saints, Waverly lived at Rectory there and\ndid wonderful work teaching and preaching to slaves as well as\nwhites--preaching at beautiful St. Mary's chapel, built by Plowden\nWeston at Hagley for the slaves of materials from England--baptismal\nfont from this chapel now in Camden Episcopal church and stained glass\nalso removed before chapel burned some few years ago. At this\nperiod--prior to mancipation Waccamaw slaves were usually educated in\nthe faith of their masters--the Episcopal.) Parson Glennie come once a\nmonth to Sunnyside. Parson Glennie read, sing, pray. Tell us obey Miss\nMinna. (I wuz little highest.) Two of us 55 chillun! We'd fight. She\nknock me. I knock back! Wouldn't take a knock! She say, 'I tell Parson\nGlennie! Lord won't bless you! You bad.' I say, 'You knock me, I knock\nyou!'\n\n\"Have a play-house. Charlie buy from Mott. Used to summer it at\nMagnolia. Row from Bull Creek once a month to Chapel. (10 miles or\nmore) Put them All Saints eleven o'clock service. Four best men his\nrowsmen. Fuss (first) year war we tuh Bull Creek. Nobody go (to All\nSaints) but Missus and Massa and the four rowsmen.\n\n\"Flat going from Midway to Cheraw. Best rice on flat. (Couldn't grind\ncorn) Kill chicken. Gone to protect from Yankees--to hide! When they\ncome (to Cheraw). Sherman coming from MONDAY till SATDY! Come on RAIL!\nSaid 'twas a shocking sight! When Sherman army enter Cheraw, town full\nof sojers. Take way from white people and give horses colored people!\nDidn't kill none the horses. (On Sunnyside on Waccamaw) Cheraw Yankee\nkill horses! (Indeed--YES! It is history in Marlboro, near Cheraw they\nwere killed and thrown in the wells to pollute the water.)\"\n\n\"Mr. Charley horse, couldn't nobody ride but him! Father-in-law (Mr.\nDuncan to Midway) had a pair of grey--BUCK and SMILER. Driver, Tom Carr.\nCome in carriage every month to Sunnyside. Get the family. Go and spend\nten days--Midway! Family wuz MYSELF, MISS MINNA, and the three and the\nMassa and Miss Susan. Mary Huger one my Missus sister. One marry a Huger\nto Charleston.\n\n\"Major Charles say he'd die in Sunnyside yard fore he'd go there\n(Georgetown) and take off his hat and 'swear gainst my swear.' He'd die\nin Sunnyside yard. My Massa, Major Charles Alston, was the last one to\ngone to Georgetown and gone under that flag! He was Charles Jr., but\nafter Confederick war he was Major Charles! Major Charles the last man\noff Waccamaw gone under the flag! At Georgetown. Went down in row-boat.\nMy fadder gone and tell old man Tom Nesbitt to have his boat and four of\nhis best mens. Got to go off a piece! Pa gone. Have boat ready. Ma got\nup. Cook a traveling lunch for 'em. Fore day! Blue uniform. Yellow\nstreak down side--just like this streak in my dress. Yellow bar!\" (Most\nof 'em had to rob dead yankees or go naked) \"LAST GENTLEMAN GONE UNDER\nTHE FLAG!\n\n\"Walking up and down the piazza! Say, Can I go to town and swear gainst\nmy slave?\" Can I? Up and down!\n\n\"I hear bout them slave try to run way. Aunt Tella Kinloch eye shot out.\nMarsh (baby) cry! Mother say take her apron and stuff the child mouth.\nBlockade (patrollers) wuz hiding. Shot in range of that sound. Row! Row!\nRow! Put everything in jail! All in jail! Mr. McCuskey tell us! He wuz\none of the men help lynch. I got married 1873. They wuz talking bout the\ntime (war) \"Mr. McCuskey told us Nemo Ralston was one. Say he never see\na fatter man. Fat in there in shield! Like a fattening hog! (They\nrunning way from Oregon--Dr. McGill place). Say they put four horses to\nhim--one to every limb. Stretch 'em. And cut horses and each horse carry\na piece! Mr. McCuskey was one help lynch Nemo.\n\n\"Uncle William Heywood didn't birth till after mancipation. Not a thing\nto do with slavery time! But I know when the big gun shooting to free\nme! Yankee come and free Waccamaw! No slave hold. Whole neck free but\nus! Last people free on 'Neck.' MY MAJOR last one to went under flag to\nGeorgetown! Old man Moses Gibson and Peter Brockington build Sunnyside\nkitchen.\n\n\"I wuz birth November 5th, 1855. Mr. Buck say, 'Aunt Mariah, know your\nbirth?'\n\n\"'Yes, sir!'\n\n\"'Aunt Mariah, you too old to work! You born 1800, go on home raise your\nchicken!'\"\n\n  Aunt Mariah Heywood\n  Age--82\n  Murrells Inlet, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1885-1\n  FOLK LORE\n  Spartanburg, S.C.\n  May 10, 1937\n\n  Edited by:\n  Elmer Turnage\n\n  SLAVE STORIES\n\n\nLiving with his married daughter is an old negro slave by the name of\nJerry Hill. He was born Jan. 12, 1852. He and his mother were owned by\nJim Fernandes who had a plantation between Union and Jonesville, S.C.\nHis father was a slave owned by another white man on an adjoining\nplantation. \"Uncle\" Jerry was nine years old when the war began, and\nthirteen when he was set free. He was born near Rocky Creek which ran\ninto Fairforest Creek. He was always treated kindly by his master. He\nwas taught to plow and work on the farm, which he did regularly; though\nhe always took his time and would not let anybody hurry him. He said\nthat he had always taken his time to do his farm work, so got along fine\nwith all for whom he worked. He says that he always had plenty to eat;\nyet most of the \"niggers\" had to eat Ash-bread. This is corn-bread which\nis cooked in hot ashes raked from the fireplace. Once a week he was\ngiven biscuits, though this was a luxury to colored folks. He said, that\nwhen a slave had to have a whipping, he was taken to a whipping post in\nJonesville. A bull-whip was used for the punishment and it brought the\nblood from the bare back of the man or woman being whipped. One day a\ngrown slave was given 150 lashes with the bull-whip, for teaching the\nyoung boys to gamble. He saw this punishment administered. He had\nclimbed a tree where he could get a better view. He said that several\nslaves were being whipped that day for various things, and there were\nseveral men standing around watching the whipping. He said that he was\nlaughing at the victim, when some by-stander looked up and saw him;\n\"that boy needs 150 lashes, too,\" he said. \"He is laughing at the\npunishment being given.\" So his master told the by-stander to get the\nboy and give him the lashing if he thought he needed it. When he was led\nup to the whipping post, some man there shook his head at the\nby-stander; so the boy did not get whipped. Jerry says that the sister\nof Jim Fernandas used to carry a bull-whip around her neck when she\nwalked out on the farm, and would apply it herself to any slave she\nthought needed it.\n\n\"When the Yankee soldiers came,\" he said, \"my master had to hide out for\nawhile, as he had gotten into some trouble with them at Union. They\nwould search the house occasionaly and then go into the woods looking\nfor him. One day the soldiers caught him down on the branch and killed\nhim. As the Yankee soldiers would come to the plantation, they would\nleave their worn-out horses and take our good ones. They also stole\nmeat, hams, sugar etc.; but they were pretty quiet most of the time. One\nof our neighbors caught a Yankee stealing his horse and killed him right\nthere. His name was Bill Isom. All his family is now dead. The soldiers\nwould slip around and steal a good horse and ride it off. We would never\nsee that horse again. After we were told by my master that we were now\nfree and could go to work whereever we chose, my mother hired me out to\na man and I stayed with him two years. It was pretty hard to make a\nliving after we were free, but I worked hard and always got on.\"\n\n  =Source:= Jerry Hill, 265 Highland St., Spartanburg, S.C. Interviewed\n          by: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg Office, Dist. 4.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Martha S. Pinckney\n  Charleston, S.C.\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  JANE HOLLINS\n\n  AGE 97\n\n\nJane was found in the sunshine on her piazza, busily occupied, as she\nalways would be. With her full cotton skirt she brushed off the\nhard-wood bench, and asked the writer to have a seat; this being\ndeclined, she said,\n\n\"Then I'll sit, because I'm old and get tired.\n\n\"Now what you want with old Jane? From old Mausa time you can get my\nage--you can 'pute it up. (compute) I was 95 June before this last June\ngone. I got a son 70 what lives in the country--he pay my rent. I dunno\nhow many children I had; my son July Ladson lives here with me--he gone\nout now. One son is gone off somewhere in the world; he's married and\nhas a family--I dunno where he is--somewhere in the world!\"--spreading,\nout her arms.\n\n\"I come from Eutawville and Belvidere and Belmont. My Master?--Charles\nSinkler, Belvidere Plantation, (a few miles from Eutawville) Mausa went\nto Eutaw for Miss--I remember all two place, Belvidere and Eutaw. We\nlive at Belvidere. My master house been beautiful--'e dey yet! (in her\ndeep feeling and excitement she lapsed into Gullah). That was the\nplantation where we lived--and, the beautiful steps went up at the back\nto the 'pantry and to the side was the smoke house', she jumped up and\nillustrated--'the smoke come up from here, and the meat was hangin' all\nhere', she showed vital interest in everything she told, and was\nabsorbed in her subject, as when we relate experiences which we have\nloved.\n\n\"You know what 'Daily Gift'?--I was Daily Gift--Mausa give me to Miss\nMargaret, his daughter, when she was married to Mr. Gaillard--I give to\nMiss Margaret--=I never was sold=.\" She repeated twice, and was very proud\nof it that she was a \"Free Gift\". \"I never was sold, =and my Mama never\nwas sold=.\" (Faithful servants remained for generations in one family,\ninherited and willed like other valued property)\n\n\"What I do?--I milk cows\", and she illustrated. \"I do outside work wid\nde hoe--plant corn, potato, peas, rice!\" She beamed with pride and\npleasure as she told of each thing she could do--\"Help fix the hogs, you\nknow, make lard and cracklings to put in bread. When dinner time they\nblow the big conk and everybody come for dinner. I not the cook. The\ncook, Delia, stout round, (illustrated) she do cook! We jus' make out\nnow with dese vittles.\n\n\"We went to church all de time--an' I sing an' shout in de Heavenly\nland! De church been on de plantation. Mausa had a white minister for\nus. His name Mr. Quinbey. I believe in God. Heaven a restin'\nplace--there we is all one spirit--the spirit go about jus' how we go\nabout here.\"\n\n\"Do they come back? Did you ever see one?\" she was asked.\n\n\"I hear 'bout dat,\" she frowned, \"but I never see um. My mama, Eve, died\nafter freedom. My mama gone--she never come back--my children never come\nback to me any time. I dont know how many of my children dead. My\ndaughters, dey lookin' to themselves.\"\n\n\"I come to Charleston long after Freedom. I remember all two\nplace--Belvidere and Eutawville. Belmont I cant forget--de name Gaillard\nI cant forget, cause I was 'Free Gift.' Dese time aint like de times way\nback dere.\"\n\n\"I been a mid-wife here 60 years. My name writ right down dere and you\ncan find it. No longer than this mornin' I burn up some papers. I aint\nhave any remembrance any more.\" Here she went in to the house and got\nsome sheets of paper.--\"I want to be truthful to you, dese was my\nnursery book.\"\n\n\"I'm too old to sing.--I did know spirituals but cant remember them--I\ntell you dese things, then they go out of my remembering.\"\n\n\"My sister been seamstress in de house--her name Rachel--I do de\npointing I can work at anything--after supper, before dark come, do\ncutting out for next days work.\"\n\n\"I cut out a suit for my master,\" she said proudly--\"pants, and a\nwaistcoat--you know?\" Then she remembered suddenly that she could\nspin--card the cotton and spin it into yarn--\"'I glad I can remember\nthings I do in those days--.'\"\n\nHer farewell benediction was: =\"I trust de Lord will carry you whereever\nyou want to go!\"=\n\n  =Source:= Jane Hollins, age 97, the Lane at 50 Ashe St, Charleston, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  W. W. Dixon\n  Winnsboro, S.C.\n\n  CORNELIUS HOLMES\n  EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nCornelius Holmes lives with his wife, Nancy, in a two-room annex to the\nhouse that his son, David, occupies. It is on the old Harden place, nine\nmiles northwest of Winnsboro, S.C. The land and the house belong to Mr.\nJohn Means Harden, a resident of Winnsboro. Cornelius is intelligent,\ncourteous in manner, tidy in appearance, and polite. His occupation is\nthat of basket-making, in which he is an adept. He picks up a little\nmoney by repairing chairs and putting split-bottoms in them.\n\n\"I was born in de town of Edgefield, South Carolina, November 29th,\n1855, 'cordin' to de Bible, and was a slave of Marse Preston Brooks. Dat\nname seem to make you set up and take notice of me.\n\n\"How come I a slave of Marse Preston? Well, it was dis way. My grands\nb'long to de Means family of Fairfield County, 'round old Buckhead\nsection. My grandpap, Wash, tell me Marse Preston come dere visitin' de\nHarpers, 'nother buckra family dat live further toward de Broad River\nside of de county. When he git up dere, it come over his 'membrance dat\nde Meanses was some punkins too, as well as him and de Harpers. Maybe he\ndone heard 'bout Miss Martha, how her could ride a horse and dance a\ncotillion in Columbia, when Marse John Hugh was de governor. Well, de\npart goes, he comes over dere but didn't do lak they does now, bust\nright in and 'clare his 'fections to de gal. Him fust, solemn lak, ask\nto see de marster and ask him if he object to him pursuing Miss Martha,\nin de light of becomin' his son-in-law? Then, when dat was settled,\nMarse Preston and Miss Martha gallop and race all 'round de country but\nde hosses was always neck and neck. Dat fall, dat race ended in a tie.\nDat what Grandpap Wash tell me.\n\n\"After they marry, my mother, Scylla, was give to Miss Martha and\n'company her to Edgefield. Dere she marry de carriage driver, Hillard,\nwho was my pappy. I was born in a room 'joinin' de kitchen and a part of\nde big kitchen. De plantation was out in de country. I never was dere,\nso I can't tell you nothin' 'bout dat. De fact is, I was just a small\nboy and most I know, comes from mother and grandpap. They 'low Marse\nPreston was in Washington most of de time. One day he marched right in\nde Senate, wid his gold head cane, and beat a Senator 'til him fainted,\n'bout sumpin' dat Senator say 'bout him old kinsman, Senator Butler. Dat\nturn de world up side down. Talk 'bout 'peachin' Marse Preston. Marse\nPreston resign and come home. De town of Edgefield, de county of\nEdgefield, de state of South Carolina, and Miss Martha, rise to\nvindicate Marse Preston and 'lect him back to Washington.\n\n\"Marse Preston go back and stay dere 'til he die, in 1859. His body was\nbrought back to Edgefield. De nex' year de war come on. I's too young to\n'member much 'bout it but my pappy die while it was goin' on. Him have\nthree chillun by mother: Me, Audie, and Nancy. They is dead now but I\n'members them crawlin' 'round on de plank floor in de winter time and in\nde sand in de summer time.\n\n\"I never worked in slavery time. Us eat from de dairy and de kitchen,\njust what mistress and her chillun eat. One thing I lak then was\n'matoes. They wasn't big 'matoes lak they is now. They was 'bout de size\nof marbles. Us cooked them wid sugar and they was mighty good dat way.\n\n\"My mistress had chillun by Marse Preston. Sho' I recollect them. Dere\nwas Preston; de last I hear of him, him livin' in Tennessee. Then dere\nwas Miss Mary; her marry Mr. George Addison of Edgefield. Miss Carrie;\nher marry Marse Capers Byrd. De youngest, Miss Martha, marry Col. McBee\nof Greenville, S.C.\n\n\"Does I 'members 'bout de Yankees? Not much. I 'members more 'bout\nWheeler's men. They come and take nearly everything, wid de excuse dat\nde Yankees was not far behind and when they come, they would take all,\nso they just as well take most of what was in sight.\n\n\"When freedom come, my pappy was dead. Mother brought me back to\nFairfield County and give me to my grandpap, Washington Holmes. Us live\non 'Possum Branch; now own by Mr. Jim Young. I stay dere 'til I 'come\ntwenty-one. Then I marry Maggie Gladden, 'cause I love her. Us had four\nchillun, in de twenty years her live. Henry is in Philadephia. David, de\noldest, is fifty years old, livin' out in de county from Winnsboro. Lula\ndied, unmarried. Carrie lives here, in Winnsboro; her husband is Arthur\nRosboro, dat you white folks all know so well. When Maggie die, I marry\nNancy Holmes, a widow. Us have had no chillun.\n\n\"Now you is finished wid me and you wants me to relax, you say, and talk\nto you freely 'bout de past and slavery, de present and social\nconditions, and de risin' generation and de future? Well, dat is a heap\nof territory. Now let's think. You see I got a heap a white blood in me,\nand a heap of de Negro too. Slavery did de white race a whole lot a good\nbut it wasn't lastin' good. It did de Negro good, dat will be lastin'\ngood forever. De Negro women protected de pure white woman from\nenticement and seduction of de white man in slavery time. My grandpap\nsay he never heard of a bad white woman befo' freedom. I leave it wid\nyou if dere's any dese times? Dat was worth more to de South, my\ngrandpap say, dis santification of de white women, than all de cotton\nand corn dat de Negroes ever makes, in all de years of slavery times.\n\n\"Now it was de finest thing could have happen for de Negro, to have been\nsnatched out of Africa and brought here in touch wid civilization and\nChristianity. It will work out untold benefit to de race. 'Bout social\nconditions? De Bible say, 'De poor you will have wid you always.' Tho'\nde slave question am settled, de race question will be wid us always,\n'til Jesus come de second time. It's in our politics, in our justice\ncourts, on our highways, on our side walks, in our manners, in our\n'ligion, and in our thoughts, all de day and every day.\n\n\"De good Marster pity both sides. In de end, will it be settle by hate\nor by de policy of, love your neighbor, as you do yourself? Who knows?\nDere's not much promise at de 'mediate moment of de risin' generation,\nof either side, and I means no disrespect to you. My grandpap say no\nrace can rise higher than its women. De future of de Negro race, depends\non its mothers. I leave you to answer de last half of de question.\"\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler\n  Murrells Inlet, S.C.\n  Georgetown County\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  UNCLE BEN HORRY\n\n\n(Uncle Ben lives in his own cabin with his second wife, Stella. Formerly\nalmost inaccessible, the new Coastal Highway has put Uncle Ben and Aunt\nStella in the world. The rural electricity program has current right at\ntheir door. Aunt Stella was asked 'Why don't you have lights, Aunt\nStella?' and she replied, 'White folks run me if I do that!' So you see\nthe old couple still live with many old and odd beliefs one being that\nthe white man only is entitled to the good things--the better things.\nLike most old ex-slaves in South Carolina low country, they love and\nrevere the names and memories of their old masters.)\n\n\"Right now, I oldest one from Longwood to Prospect--see dere? (Pointing\nto forest wall--great pines and live-oaks in front of the cabin)--Look!\nI know when he cleared and plant! Josh Ward have potato there. I have\nmanure and plant tater. I been here, daughter!\" (He pronounces it\n'Dater' with a short 'a')\n\n(Aside: \"Stella, mind now! Don't quarrel me to-night! What you do?\"\n\nAunt Stella: The second wife--some years his junior--probably 65--\"I do\nnuff!\")\n\n\"Got to go up there and cook supper to the Schoolfield house.\" (This was\nUncle Ben's announcement as he crawled into the car with a bucket in\nwhich were his shoes. He was walking down the Coastal Highway and not\nstaying where he belonged--on the shoulder!) \"Got to cook crab and\nister (oyster). Ain't got much to cook. They don't eat much. Got a gal\nthere to fry fish. They give me recommend for cook. Been get the sea\nfoods for 'em for five year. Iron oven the way we raise.\" (Aside to his\nwife) \"Stella, if that man come there, see that sack there? Tell that\nman I put fire there. Gie 'em fork and knife. Tell 'em eat all he want!\"\n(Uncle Ben arranges oyster roasts.)\n\n\"That man to Schoolfield house want me to stay and sleep wid 'em. All\nwomen gone. Tell me keep the man and lock up the house when he gone. I\ntell 'em too much o' tief!\"\n\n     Lillie: \"Aunt Stella, ain't you fraid when Uncle Ben stay out all\n     night?\"\n\n     Uncle Ben: \"Stella keep pot o' water boil and tief come she trow\n     'em!\"\n\n     Visitor: \"Uncle Ben tell Lillie bout your father and the whiskey\n     jug.\"\n\nUncle Ben: \"You see, to Brookgreen we nuster plant rice and my fadder\nhad the barn key. He kinder boss man. He nuster (used to) take me and go\nout woods night time.\" (Aside to mother of child at pump--\"Take care dat\nchild!\")\n\n\"Fadder take me out woods night time (What you say, Primus?) and I hold\nstorch (torch) for him see for trash (thrash) out rice what he take out\nthe barn. Rice been money dem time you know. And he take he rice and\ngone on down to town for get he liquor. And he come from town wid\nwhiskey. Boss find it out. Five or six chillun and always give us\nrations. Broke that jug and when they call his name (put rations in pile\nyou know--pile for every one been in fambly) when they call my fadder\nname but a piece o' broken jug there is discourage him from whiskey--.\nHe come from town and been drop the jug and it break up. And Boss know.\nFar as I can remember he keep give 'em that broken jug bout a year. You\nsee he sponsible for key. Seem like I member right where we go beat that\nrice. Pine tree saw off and chip out make as good a mortar as that one I\ngot. Dan'l, Summer, Define! Define the oldest brother my fadder have.\nYoung Missus Bess, Florence, Georgia, Alice. Those boys the\nmusicianer--go round play for the girl.\"\n\nAunt Stella: Interrupting, \"You orter be carry money with you. Get the\nmeat. I ain't going no whey (where).\"\n\n     Lillie: To Primus who has walked up. \"Handful back yet?\" (Handful\n     his wife's basket name.)\n\n     Primus: \"No. This man bacco barn burn up.\"\n\n     Lillie: \"What?\"\n\n     Primus: \"Mr. Len barn. Must'er been asleep!\"\n\n     Lillie: \"Rich most cure all his'n. Taint mine! Rich tease me. He\n     say, 'MY bacco; YOUR kitchen!'\"\n\n     Lillie: \"What you all think bout that tale the Elder tell Sunday\n     bout his Great Uncle and the snakes!\"\n\n     Stella: (To Uncle Ben) \"What you tink bout it? You tink a man truss\n     to go in cypress hollow wid rattle-snake?\"\n\n     Uncle Ben: \"Let me see how was it!\" (Deep thought as he rubbed his\n     face in his palm; smile as recollection came) \"On Rutledge\n     Plantation a man wouldn't take no beating. Found a large hollow\n     cypress tree been rotten out long years. Gone in. Lie down sleep.\n     Fore day wake up! Feel something crawl over him. Nother one crow\n     like game chicken!\" (Negroes all say rattlers crow!) \"Smell him.\n     Crawl over him. Crawl out. Get out.\"\n\n     Stella: \"Revents had it wuz a man in a cypress tree and seven--how\n     much wuz it? Twelve? These twelve monster snake crawl over him. If\n     you move, he strike.\"\n\n     Uncle Ben: \"Right there where Dr. Ward stay had a big old\n     stable--see these two hole in my jaw. Had a stable high as that\n     tree. Big Jersey bull gone in there eating that straw like we\n     thrashing. Big rattle-snake pop 'um. Fell dead.\"\n\n\"How does we mark shoat? Under-bit; upper-bit. Swallow fork in the right\nyear! And a square crop in the left!\n\n\"How much been task? A quarter (acre) if you mashing ground. Ten compass\ndigging ground. Cutting rice one half acre a day.\" (awful job.)\n\n     Stella: \"Plow; harrow 'em.\"\n\n     Ben: \"Ain't you mash 'em?\"\n\n     Stella: \"Mash a bed a day three task deep.\"\n\n     Ben: \"Mashing raw ground half acre--some quarter. Mash 'em--take\n     hoe full up them hole, level dem, chop dem big sod!\"\n\n     Stella: (age 65) \"You got a mis-sheen (machine). Ox pull dat\n     mis-sheen!\"\n\n     Ben: \"Dat mis-sheen come in YOU day, darling! My day I trenching\n     hoe trench dat! I done dat, Stella. You come on sow in trench lak\n     (like) dey sow turnip. YOU day got mis-sheen! Ox pull 'em. Great I\n     AM! Missus, fifteen to old islant (island), twenty silver islant,\n     (I been Silver Islant. Cross old islant go Silver islant.) Josh\n     Ward one some four or five hundred acre. Something been here,\n     darling! Something been here! Left Brookgreen go Watsaw; left\n     Watsaw gone Longwood. Plant ALL DEM plantation. I work there. Cut\n     rice there. Cutting rice task been half acre a day.\n\n     \"Squirrel creek? Cedar tree and cypress hang low. Squirrel love dem\n     ball. Tree work up wid dem. Good place for go shoot squirrel. Give\n     'em name Squirrel Creek.\n\n     \"Bury live? I did hear some talk o' that. I didn't know whether\n     they bury 'em to scay 'em (scare 'em) or what. I DID hear tell bout\n     it. I most know that man name. Some these white people that day\n     something! They either manage you or kill you.\"\n\n     Lillie: (To Primus who was a listener to Uncle Ben standing propped\n     by a post of the porch where Uncle Ben, Aunt Stella, and the white\n     visitor sat)\n\n     \"Prime! Why you keep that church door lock Sunday and not let the\n     Missus out?\"\n\n     Primus: (Grinning--and he hadn't grinned Sunday but steadfastly\n     shook his head when, after a three hour service, guests thought it\n     time to go) \"Second man next to me, Asham, Secretary, tell me keep\n     door shet through sacrament.\n\n     Ben: (Who is quite deaf--ignoring interruption--when asked about\n     Oregon Plantation which was owned by a family who, from all\n     accounts, had a cruel overseer.)\n\n\"I didn't have to much to do to Oregon in them dark days. If I go from\nBrookgreen, I go Cap'n Josh git my mittment. Anybody bother me I say, 'I\nnot a run-way nigger! I got mittment!'\n\n\"Very FUSS girl--FUSS one I go with name wuz Teena. How many girl? Great\nGod! I tell you! FUSS one Teena; next Candis. Candis best looking but\nTeena duh largest! Go there every Sunday after school. (Oatland\nPlantation--blong to Marse Benjamine Allston.) Stay till sunset. Got to\nhave paper. Got to carry you paper. Dem patroller put you cross a log!\nBeat you to death. I see them beat Ben Sharp. Beat 'em till Ben kin\nhardly git cross fence. Jump over fence give 'em last chop! Patroll jess\nlike road men now! (Stella! That man ain't coming! I got to go! Got to\ncook my supper. Cook dem crab--) Blood! Christ! Yes, man. Listen me.\nLemme tell you what I see wid my eye now! (here he pried both eyes wide\nwith his ten fingers) If I much of age reckon they have to kill me! I\nsee gash SO LONG (measuring on fore-finger) in my Mama--my own Mama!\n(aside to Lillie) I shame fore Miss Jinny! If one them driver want you\n(want big frame gal like you Lillie!) they give you task you CAN'T DO.\nYou getting this beating not for you task--for you flesh!\"\n\nLillie: \"That why nation get mix up so!\" (Races)\n\n     Ben: \"Susan wuz a house woman, to buckra woman like a you to Miss\n     Jin. (Susan worked in the house--no field hand--like Lillie works\n     for Miss Jin) To my knowing she had three white chillun. Not WANT\n     'em. HAB 'em. Boy (you know 'em Lill) near bout clean as them boy\n     of Missus! Tief chillun show up so! Woman over-power! My mother\n     nuss (nurse.) Get up so high--natural nuss for white people.\n\n\"Place they call duh 'Bull Pen.' In 'Bull Pen' thing they call 'PONY'.\nGot to go on there--on the 'PONY.'\n\nLillie: \"RIDE you on it, Uncle Ben?\"\n\nBen: \"Ain't going ride you on 'PONY'; going RIDE YOU! I stay there look\nwid DESE HERE (eyes)! Want you to know one thing--MY OWN DADDY DERE\ncouldn't move! Couldn't venture dat ober-sheer! (Colored overseer)\nEverybody can't go to boss folks! (Meaning only house servants could\ncontact Missus and Massa). Some kin talk it to Miss Bess. Everybody\ndon't see Miss Bess. Kin see the blood of dat ober-sheer fuss year atter\nFreedom; and he blood there today! Atter Freedom mens come from French\nBroad and you know the colored people--we go there whey (where) they\nmusic. Agrippa--daddy name Parrish--Redmond one he child outside.\n(Outside chillun are those not born to a man's legal wife) He say, to\ngal, 'Go that barn!' YOU GO. You could yeddy him SLAP cross dat creek!\nWhen fowl crow (daylight) and you yeddy him SQUALL, you best git to\nflat! I stand dere and my Daddy HAVE to stand dere and see! Josh Ward\nfrom French Broad--hundred mile away. (Boss Massa 'summering it' in\nmountains) and negro over seer--just fresh out of Africa TURNED LOOSE.\nWhite obersheer a little different for one reason! White obersheer want\nto hold his job. (On Waccamaw--and same true of all south as all\nknow--white overseers worst kind of 'White trash'--respected less by\nnegroes than by whites) Nigger obersheer don't care too much. He know he\ngoing stay on plantation anyhow.\n\n\"Now, dater, I tell you bout the loom and weaving next time!\"\n\n  And we left Uncle Ben Horry--age 87\n    Murrells Inlet, S.C.\n    August 1937.\n\nto go on 'to the Schoolfield house and cook supper for a house-party.\nThis week he stepped up to Con-o-way. Says he had to walk it twice a\nweek--formed the habit when he was on old river Steamer Burroughs and\nhad to walk up to Conway Monday and back home Saturday. About thirty\nmiles (or more from his place) to Conway. At 87 he still takes this\nlittle exercise almost weekly. Having such a struggle holding on to his\nland. All the lawyers saying 'sign here' and trying to rob him! Poor\nUncle Ben needs desperately a Massa to help him out with his land. Not\nmany Uncle Ben's left to be robbed--\n\n(told that the cruel negro overseer was shot down after Freedom--blood\nstill on ground (according to Uncle Ben) because he led Yankees to where\nsilver, etc., was buried. Have heard story from other old livers.)\n\n\n\n\n  Project # 2570\n  Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler,\n  Murrell's Inlet, S.C.\n  Georgetown county.\n\n  Ex Slave Story.\n\n  UNCLE BEN HORRY\n\n\nUncle Ben and his wife, aunt Stella, live in their two-room,\nwhite-washed cabin that sits sideways to the King's Highway, which Uncle\nBen always calls 'the King Road,' near Murell's Inlet, S.C. Paving and\nstraightening this old King's Road, now US 17, has put the two old\npeople in the world. Around the cabin lie the fourteen and three quarter\nacres that were paid for by Uncle Ben and his father, six or eight acres\ncleared, the rest woodland. Uncle Ben earns a living by gathering\noysters from the Inlet's waters, opening and roasting the oysters for\nwhite visitors. Uncle Ben is a great walker. He walks to Conway, the\ncounty seat of Horry (Murrell's Inlet is situated on the line between\nHorry and Georgetown counties), a distance of approximately thirty miles\ndepending on whether one sticks to the paved highway or takes short cuts\nthrough the woods, in preference to riding. One day he had walked to\nConway and back by eleven o'clock in the morning. Uncle Ben's scrappy\nconversation will tell how he earns his bread, fears and fights 'the\nLaw', provides for Stella's future, and works for and honors white\nfolks. Brookgreen, which he mentions as the plantation on which he was\nborn and raised, is an open-air museum, donated to South Carolina by\nA.M. Huntingdon, and visited by thousands of tourists. (=See US17, Tour\n1=).\n\n\"I the oldest liver left on Waccamaw Neck that belong to Brookgreen,\nProspect, (now Arcadia), Longwood, Alderly Plantations. I been here! I\nseen things! I tell you. Thousand of them things happen but I try to\nforget 'em. Looker!\" He pointed to what appeared to be primeval forest\nin front of his battered little porch. \"That woods you see been Colonel\nJosh Ward's taters patch. Right to Brookgreen Plantation where I born.\nMy father Duffine (Divine) Horry and my brother is Richard Horry. Dan'l\nand Summer two both my uncle. You can put it down they were Colonel\nWard's musicianer. Make music for his dater (daughter) and the white\nfolks to dance. Great fiddlers, drummers. Each one could play fiddle,\nbeat drum, blow fife. All three were treat with the same education. You\nknow, when you going to do anything for them big people you got to do it\nright. Before time (formerly) they danced different. Before strange city\npeople fetched different steps here. But, then, they could use they feet\nall right!\n\n\"My father fore he dead been the head man for old Colonel Josh Ward.\nLived to Brookgreen. They say Colonel Ward the biggest rice man been on\nWaccamaw. He start that big gold rice in the country. He the head rice\nCap'n in dem time. My father the head man, he tote the barn key. Rice\nbeen money dem day and time. My father love he liquor. That take money.\nHe ain't have money but he have the rice barn key and =rice= been money!\nSo my father gone in woods (he have a head, my father!), take a old\nstump, have 'em hollow out. Now he (the stump) same as mortar to the\nbarn yard. And my father keep a pestle hide handy. Hide =two= pestle! Them\npestle make outer heart pine. When that pestle been miss (missed), I\nwuzn't know nothing! The way I knows my age, when the slavery time war\ncome I been old enough to go in the woods with my father and hold a\nlightard (lightwood) torch for him to see to pestle off that golden rice\nhe been tote out the barn and hide. =That= rice he been take to town\nSat'd'y when the Colonel and my father go to get provision like sugar,\ncoffee, pepper and salt. With the money he get when he sell that rice,\nhe buy liquor. He been hide that sack o' rice fore day clean (daylight)\nin the prow of the boat and cover with a thing like an old coat. I\nmembers one day when he come back from town he make a miss (step) when\nhe onloading and fell and broke he jug! The Big Boss see; he smell; and\nhe see WHY my father make that miss step; he already sample that liquor!\nBut the Boss ain't say too much. Sat'd'y time come to ration off. Every\nhead on the Plantation to Brookgreen line up at smoke-house to draw he\nshare of meat and rice and grits and meal. (This was fore my father been\npint (appointed) head man. This when they had a tight colored man in\nthat place by name Fraser. They say Fraser come straight from Africa).\nWell, Sat'd'y when time come to give my father he share of rations, the\nheadman reach down in the corner and pull out a piece of that broke\nwhiskey jug and put on top my father rations where all could see!\nColonel Ward cause that to be done to broke him off from that whiskey\njug. My father was a steady liquor man till then and the Boss broke him\noff.\n\n\"Slavery going in. I members Marse Josh and Miss Bess had come from\nFrench Broad (Springs) where they summered it. They brought a great deal\nof this cloth they call blue drilling to make a suit for every boy big\nenough to wear a suit of clothes and a pair of shoes for every one. I\nthought =that= the happiest 'set up' I had in boyhood. Blue drilling pants\nand coat and shoe. And Sund'y come we have to go to the Big House for\nMarse Josh to see how the clothes fit. And him and Miss Bess make us run\nraces to see who run the fastest. That the happiest time I members when\nI wuz a boy to Brookgreen.\n\n\"Two Yankee gun boats come up Waccamaw river! Come by us Plantation. One\nstop to Sandy Island, Montarena landing. One gone Watsaw (Wachesaw\nlanding). Old Marse Josh and all the white buckra gone to Marlboro\ncounty to hide from Yankee. Gon up Waccamaw river and up Pee Dee river,\nto Marlboro county, in a boat by name Pilot Boy. Take Colonel Ward and\nall the Cap'n to hide from gun boat till peace declare. I think Pilot\nBoy been a rear-wheeler. Most boats like the Old Planter been side\nwheeler.\n\n\"They say the Yankee broke in all the rice barn on Sandy Island and\nshare the rice out to colored people. The big mill to Laurel Hill been\nburn right den. That the biggest rice mill on Waccamaw river. Twuzn't\nthe Yankee burn dem mill. Dese white mens have a idea the Yankee mean to\nburn dese mill so they set 'em afire before the Yankee come. Nothing\nleft to Laurel Hill today but the rice mill tower. That old brick tower\ngoing to BE there. Fire can't harm 'em.\n\n\"The worst thing I members was the colored oberseer. He was the one\nstraight from Africa. He the boss over all the mens and womens and if\nomans don't do all he say, he lay task on 'em they ain't able to do. My\nmother won't do all he say. When he say, 'You go barn and stay till I\ncome,' she ain't do dem. So he have it in for my mother and lay task on\n'em she ain't able for do. Then for punishment my mother is take to the\nbarn and strapped down on thing called the Pony. Hands spread like this\nand strapped to the floor and all two both she feet been tie like this.\nAnd she been give twenty five to fifty lashes till the blood flow. And\nmy father and me stand right there and look and ain't able to lift a\nhand! Blood on floor in that rice barn when barn tear down by Huntingdon\n(A.M. Huntingdon). If Marse Josh been know 'bout that obersheer, the\noberseer can't do 'em; but just the house servant get Marse Josh' and\nMiss Bess' ear. Them things different when my father been make the head\nman. What I tell you happen fore Freedom, when I just can remember.\n\n\"Father dead just before my mother. They stayed right to Brookgreen\nPlantation and dead there after they free. And all they chillun do the\nsame, till the Old Colonel sell the plantation out. Where we going to?\nAin't we got house and rations there?\n\n\"How many chillun I got? Lemme see. Lemme see how many head of chillun.\nYou, Stella! Help me now! Don't let me tell the Missis wrong. Charles\nHenry, thirty eight, dere in New York. Ben Horry--I gie' 'em directly!\"\n(Lifting cap and scratching high forehead and gray wool). \"Twenty four.\nI going to give you all I got! All I know about! Bill Horry, that's a\nboy, he twenty. Dinah, that's a gal, twenty five. Christine, she bout\ntwenty. Mary Horry, I would say fifteen. When the last war come, the\nlast war deputize them boy and take 'em way up North and the gals\nfollow, trail 'em on to New York. That the war when you can't get no\nsugar and have to put candy in your coffee.\n\n\"How old I is?\" Slowly and deliberately \"December 13th., 1852. Eighty\nfive years or more. When my mother dead to Brookgreen I would say I\n'bout thirty three year old.\n\n\"After Freedom, from my behavior wid my former owner, I wuz pinted\n(appointed) head man on Brookgreen Plantation. By that put drop in my\nhand (getting the drop on others). When kennel been dug out (canal dug)\nfrom the Oaks Plantation to Dr. Wardie Flagg house, I wuz pint\n(appointed) head man. Take that down, Missis. Kennel (canal) cut 1877.\nNear as I kin, I must task it on the kennel (canal) and turn in every\nman's work to Big Boss. That kennel (canal) bigger than one Mr.\nHuntingdon dig right now with machine.\n\n\"Missus, slavery time people done something.\"\n\nUncle Gabe Lance, born on Sandy Island the first year of the Civil War,\na visitor at Uncle Ben's: \"Yes sir. All them rice field been nothing but\nswamp. Slavery people cut kennel (canal) and dig ditch through the raw\nswamp. All these fields been thick woods. Ditching man task was ten\ncompass.\"\n\nUncle Ben continues:\n\n\"Storm? Ain't I tell you I BEEN here? Yes, sir. More than one storm I\nlive through! Been through the Flagg storm. Been turn over twice outside\nthere in the sea. One time been have the seine. Been rough. Have\nweather. And the breakers take the boat. I swim till I get the rope\nhold. Two men on the shore have the rope end of the seine rope and I\nhold to that and that how I save THAT time.\n\n\"Member another time. Had a boat full of people this last go 'round. Wuz\nMiss Mary, he aunty and the lawyer. I take them fishing outside in\noshun. Been in the Inlet mouth. Come half way to Drunken Jack Island.\nBreaker start to lick in the boat! I start to bail! Have a maters\n(tomatoes) can for bail with. And that been danjus (dangerous); have too\nmuch women in there; dey couldn't swim like a man. And it happen by\naccident, when the boat swamp and full with water, our FEET TOUCH\nBOTTOM. When he (the boat) turn over, I didn't aim to do no thing but\nswim for myself. Wasn't able to help nobody. But here out feet touch\nbottom. Only an accident from God!\n\n\"One time again I swamp outside, 'tween Georgetown and Charleston. Try\nto bail. Swim with one hand, hold boat with the other. Roughest time I\never see 'cause it been cold wedder (weather). Old before-time yawl\nboat, carry eight oar, four to each side. Young man then; 1877. After\nthe wedder (weather) surrender, we we gone back in dere and find cork\ngoing up and down and save us net and all!\n\n\"When the Flagg storm been, 1893, I working for Ravanel and Holmes. I\nwas taken up in that storm in a steamer boat. Leave Charleston\ngenerally about five in morning. That trip never reach Georgetown till\nnine that night. Meet a man on that trip got he wife hug to mast in a\nlittle kinder life boat. Had he two chillun; rope wrap 'em to that mast.\nSave man and wife and chillun and gone back and save he trunk. After\nthat they quit call me 'Ben'; they call me 'Rooster'.\n\n\"After Flagg storm, Colonel Ward take me and Peter Carr, us two and ah\nhorse, take that shore (follow the ocean shore line) to Little River.\nSearch for all them what been drowned. Find a trunk to Myrtle Beach.\nHave all kinder thing in 'em; comb for you hair, thing you put on you\nwrist. Find dead horse, cow, ox, turkey, fowl--everything. Gracious God!\nDon't want to see no more thing like that! But no dead body find on\nbeach outside Flagg family. Find two of them chillun way down to Dick\nPond what drownded to Magnolia Beach; find them in a distance apart from\nhere to that house. Couldn't 'dentify wedder Miss or who. All that\nfamily drown out because they wouldn't go to this lady house on higher\nground. Wouldn't let none of the rest go. Servant all drown! Betsy, Kit,\nMom Adele! Couldn't 'dentify who lost from who save till next morning.\nFind old Doctor body by he vest stick out of the mud; fetch Doctor body\nto shore and he watch still aticking. Dr. Wardie Flagg been save hanging\nto a beach cedar. When that tornado come, my house wash down off he\nblocks. Didn't broke up.\n\n\"Religion! Reckon Stella got the morest of dat. I sometimes a little\nquick. Stella, she holds one course. I like good song. One I like best?\"\n\n  'Try us, Oh Lord,\n  And search the ground\n  Of every sinful heart! (Uncle Ben stopped to think).\n  What 'eer of sin\n  In us be found\n  Oh, bid it all depart!'\n\n\"Reason I choose that for a favorite hymn, I was to Brookgreen doing\nsome work for Dr. Wardie Flagg and I had to climb as high as that live\noak tree, and I fell high as that tree! I lay there till I doze off in\nsleep. And I tell you what happen to me curious. While I was sleep I\nseen two milk white chickens. You know what them two white fowl do? They\ngone and sit on my mother dresser right before the glass and sing that\nsong. Them COULD sing! And it seem like a woman open a vial and pour\nsomething on me. My spiritual mother (in dem day every member in the\nchurch have what they call a spiritual mother) say, 'That not natural\nfowl. That sent you for a token.' Since that time I serve the choir five\nor six years and no song seem strange to me since that day. God ain't ax\nabout you color; God ax about you heart.\n\n\"Make my living with the ister (oyster). Before time (formerly) I get\nseventy five cents a bushel; now I satisfy with fifty cents. Tide going\nout, I go out in a boat with the tide; tide bring me in with sometimes\nten, sometimes fifteen or twenty bushels. I make white folks a roast;\nwhite folks come to Uncle Ben from all over the country--Florence,\nDillon, Mullins--every kind of place. Same price roast or raw, fifty\ncents a bushel.\n\n\"I bout to quit up with sell. All the lawyer. Turn all my papers over to\nMr. Burris. I got too much of paper in that Con-o-way. Court House. Got\nmore paper in there than the house worth! Have to step to Con-o-way all\nthe time. Struggle and starve myself out for these fifteen acres. Thirty\nmiles to Con-o-way. Thirty miles back by the course I travels. All them\ntricky mens try to go and get old Ben's land sign to 'em. That's the\nmainest thing take me to Con-o-way every week. They all talk so sugar\nmouth till my name down; then when my name write is another thing. When\nI in too much trouble, I just has to step up to Con-o-way and see Mr.\nBurris. He's a good man.\n\n\"They try to mix old Ben up in this whiskey business. It look too\nbrutish to me.\n\n\"Missis, I want to tell you all I kin but the old man punish with this\nbone felom (felon). Worse'n I ever been punish in all my eighty five\nyear. Crab bite 'em and ister (oyster) cut 'em (hand). Woman die and\nbury Sunday have hand just like this. If you say so, I'll go to doctor.\nDon't want no blood poison. He (bone felon) did act like he trying to\ndry up. I tie pea leaf on 'em. Can't put my hand to my head.\"\n\nThe next day Uncle Ben was found with the doctor's white bandage very\nmuddy. Uncle Ben had gotten out of bed to go get oysters and even the\nbone felon did not stop him. Uncle Ben is still hale and hearty, having\ntriumphed over the bone felon, and is one of the noted characters of\nthat region.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #-1655\n  Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler\n  Murrells Inlet, S.C.\n  Georgetown County\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  Uncle Ben Horry (Reb's time nigger--over 80)\n  (Uncle Ben and visitors)\n\n\nUncle Ben: (To white children) \"Go on see if you can find one or two\nplum on duh tree. I been want to go to town wid you--dat all right\ndaughter. (He pronounces it Dater--long Italian 'A') Chillun, ain't find\nduh plum, enty? Dem Sandy Island people come and clean the tree. Too\nsorry wonneh ain't get them plum!\n\n\"Stella gone in creek fishing. Him and Lula gone--Lula McCoy. You say\nme?\" (To neighbor walking up) \"Four men been here load they car up wid\nhand. How come you ain't gone to the bacco?\" (To work in the tobacco\nfields in truck sent to find hands)\n\nPauline Pyatt: \"If they ain't pay my price, I ain't going leave home. I\nain't gone for 75c a day. Feenie Deas gone yestiddy.\"\n\nUncle Ben: \"Near bout blind. Couldn't see out no eye nor nare (neither)\none o' my eye. Doctor put sumptin in 'em do me too much o' good. How I\nis? Fall out? Deth come I fix! Don't know bout you!\"\n\nPauline: \"I fix!\"\n\nMary Gary: \"You fix, Uncle Ben?\"\n\nUncle Ben: \"I gwine fix!\"\n\nPauline: \"You ain't fix?\"\n\nUncle Ben: \"I fix all right! I going fudder dan duh grave!\"\n\nPauline: \"I been Tarbox.\" (To Mr. Tarbox)\n\nUncle Ben: \"Down by Gallie?\" (Gallie's house)\n\nPauline: \"I ain't see nobody. What you see?\"\n\nUncle Ben: \"Ain't see nobody tall--tall--.\"\n\nPauline: \"Alice! I see Alice!\"\n\nUncle Ben: \"Ain't see nobody else?\"\n\nPauline: \"Nobody else!\"\n\nUncle Ben: \"Nobody else?\"\n\nPauline: \"Nobody else. She by herself!\"\n\n<tb>\n\nUncle Ben Reminisces\n\n\"Fore freedom? Fore freedom? Well now, fore freedom we were treated by\nour former owners I will say good--cording to situation of time. Every\nyear when Massa and Missus gone mountains, they call up obersheer\n(overseer) and say, 'Don't treat them anyway severe. Don't beat them.\nDon't maul them.' (Mr. Heminingway been severe.)\n\n\"Anybody steal rice and they beat them, Miss Bessie cry and say, 'Let\n'em have rice! My rice--my nigger!'\n\n\"Brookgreen and Springfield every Sunday morning, every gal and the\nyoung one must dress up and go to the yard and Miss Bessis give 'em\ncandy. Don't want too much o' beating. Glad to see young women dance.\nBut some cruel to the colored. Some on 'Prospect,'--'Hermitage'--and\n'Woodland' treat all right.\n\n\"I know the Yankee boat come to Inlet and went to Oaks sea-shore with\nload of cotton. Band of our sojer gone--(Rebs--'OUR sojer!), and Yankee\nsojer come off in a yawl boat and our sojer caught two of them men and\nthey hang that man to Oaks sea-shore. And when the Yankee find out--do\nmy Lord! A stir been! A stir here! Shell clean to Sandy Island! Knock\nhole through the sick-house (at Brookgreen!) Pump! Well, ain't it? Brick\nwork pump. Well. Handle. You turn! Turn. One bucket gone up; one gone\ndown. Ward take care of his nigger, sho! Best man own slave! Ward and\nPloughdon sho treat they nigger right! Live 'Laurel Hill.'\n\n\"Ward had on Prospect and Brookgreen. You know what I see? Right there\nto Oaks sea-sho after them people done that murdering with that man?\nTake all the slave, get on flat and gone out way of shell. Gone sand\nhole. Take all the people from Brookgreen and Springfield--and carry dem\nto Marlboro. Boat tow flat. Carmichael came through and established the\nfreedom through here. They come back from Marlboro where they refugee to\nand Maham Ward come back on the flat. And this Ward, share out the\nrice--broke open barn. We people? Anything like a silver, bury right\nthere in that garden! Right to Brookgreen garden, what Hontington got\nnow. All Ward thing bury there. Them old time people kill you--you\nmeddle them thing. Cry out, 'Massa Ting!' You better let 'em stay there!\n\n\"After Freedom Miss Bessie gone to she house in Charston--Rutledge\nStreet Charston. And you could see way out in ocean.\n\n\"My fadder--him and Uncle Dan'l and Uncle Summer uster been fiddler.\nGone all round when the white people gone to Prospect to ball and sich\nas that. Dem white people didn't treat you so brutish! Dem obersheer!\"\n(Aside) \"Wonder Christ sake why Lula stay out that creek so long!\"\n\nPauline: \"Fine season for corn!\"\n\nBen: \"Sho is!\"\n\n(Uncle Ben keeps a little grocery and fruit for sell. Customer comes)\n\n\"Missus, Take twenty cent out a dollar.\"\n\nPauline: \"My grand-mother in that storm. They leave that Thursday. I\nbeen to Oaks. When Flagg storm wuz. Richmond come off Magnolia beach to\nOaks Plantation and get the washing--the missus clean clothes. Had to\nswim the horse off the beach to get the clothes. I been on the beach\nThursday--and cousin Joshuaway. Pony Myers daughter born in Brookgreen\nstreet day of storm. Pony Myers wife name Adele. Marse Arthur had one\nlittle twin. Joshua Stuart and Ben find dem to the end of Myrtle Beach.\nArthur twin baby--bout that high--little walking chillun. Look how\ncurious thing is! Them two chillun drown and find to the foot of Myrtle\nBeach! (fifteen or twenty miles north). Find Tom Duncan mother. Find\nFrancis mother--Francis Gadsden. Doctor Ward pa--find him by duh vest.\nVest sticking out duh mud. Watch going. My grand-mother was keep a\nwalking from door to door.\n\n\"Find a mer-maid and kept to Magnolia.\" (Pauline said, 'mere-maid')\n\"Doctor Ward and dem shut 'em up a month. Mer-maid. Had a storm ball.\nKeep a turning round. Keep a telling him (Dr. Arthur) storm coming. He\nwouldn't b'lieve 'em. (Barometer--called by Uncle Isaac's wife,\ngatekeeper at Brookgreen, chronometer.) He wouldn't b'lieve. And a\ncussing man! All the time cuss! Mere-maid got a forked tail just like\nshark. From here down (illustrating by pantomine) all blue scale like a\ncat-fish. Pretty people! Pretty a white woman as you ever lay your eye\non.\"\n\nBen: \"Pretty, enty?\"\n\nPauline: \"Dem stay in sea. Dey walk--slide long on tail.\" (twisting from\nher waist to illustrate.) Pretty. From they waist down to tail blue\nscale. You got a bathing house on beach. Leave bread in there. They sho\neat bread.\n\n\"Marse Allard say top of the barn fly off. Cat jump and on it! And\nhorse too. And he jump too and tide bring 'em to Brookgreen.\n\n\"Joshuaway Stuart been plantation carpenter. He made one box for the\ntwin what drown and Colonel Mortimer bring one from Georgetown.\"\n\n(Aunt Stella and Lula arriving from fishing trip)\n\n\"What ketch?\"\n\nLula: \"Get some catty!\" (cat-fish) \"Mary, you dress down!\"\n\nMary: \"I gwine ketch me a fellow! (Looking in bucket) Gosh! Did got a\ngood mess!\"\n\nLula: \"Little fellow.\"\n\nMary: \"Rather eat them than large one.\"\n\nPauline: \"What yinnah nuse for bait?\"\n\nLula: \"Swimp.\"\n\nPauline: \"How you catch 'em?\"\n\nLula: \"Take a crocus and dip 'em up.\"\n\nPauline: \"I gwine try to-morrow.\"\n\nLula: \"To-morrow been Sundy! How old I is? Have to put a guess on 'em.\nBout fifty I guess. Flagg storm? That big one? When the storm wuz, I wuz\nseven year old.\"\n\n(Discuss Reb time and Flagg storm.)\n\nPauline: \"Yes. Wind bring young Allard in to Uncle Joshuaway Stuart\nfield right down there where Cindy Poinsett now. Joshuaway been Cindy\nPa.\n\n\"Doctor Ward shut that mere-maid up. He been in that! When that storm\nwuz, he wuzn't old. I go there now and talk bout that storm and he eye\nget full o' water. Looker his Papa clothes. Got 'em all pack in trunk. I\nnever shee 'um court myself. Every time I shee 'um with a crowd o' man.\n\n\"Long as he have mere-maid shut up, it rain! People gone there to look\nat 'em. Long as keep 'em shut up it rain. That time rain thirty days.\nThat just fore Flagg storm.\" (Looking toward creek) \"Yonder Stella,\nwonneh, now!\"\n\n(Uncle Ben gave each white child a little cake--then gave, from his\nhand, hunks of corn bread to each colored woman.)\n\n     Conversation taken down on Uncle Ben Horry's porch where he sat\n     awaiting the return of Aunt Stella who had gone 'in the creek' to\n     'catch a mess o' fish.' Murrells Inlet, S.C. June 15, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n  Project 1655\n  Genevieve W. Chandler\n  Georgetown County, S.C.\n\n  FOLKLORE\n\n  (VERBATIM)\n  MISS GEORGIE AT WOODLAND\n  EX-SLAVE STORY\n\n\n\"He was a full-blooded man--the Cap'n. Didn't disgrace. He put goat on\nGoat Island. Money was bury to Goat Island. People after people been\nsent. I dinnah know wedder they find or no.\n\n\"Mack McCosky was sent by the State to fetch molasses, meal and hominy\nand goat on Goat Island. He can't tell you! People can't know sumpin\nwhen they ain't born!\n\n\"After de war 'e come back and take into big drinkin' and was 'em (waste\nthem) till 'e fall tru. He been fell tru wid his money (lost his\nproperty). Didn't bury so destent (decent).\n\n\"We smaller one didn't have chance to go to war. My Daddy have for go.\nHave to go ditch and all and tend his subshun. His subshun was waste and\nsteal. Paris! He the man control all the Buckra ting. And, by God, he go\nand show Yankee all dem ting! Ole Miss git order to have him kill and\ndon't harm none! She ain't one to see him tru all that thousand head o'\nnigger for get 'em.\n\n\"They come have big dinner. Cap'n come from Muldro. (Marlboro). Drum\nbeatin' little one dancin'. Gone back to Muldro. (Maham Ward and these\nudder come from Muldro.) And they leave ting in Uncle William Gaillard\nhand. And he carry on till everting surrender. And then the Cap'n come\nhome from Muldro and they try give you sumpin to make start on like cow\nand ting. They ain't treat you like a beast. Ain't take no advance o'\nyou. What the Cap'n do he do for you good. I b'long Dr. Ward. I entitle\nto bring him two string o' bird. Rice bird come like jest as tick as dat\n(thick as that) Sometimes a bushel one shot.\n\n\"They put you in the flat and put you over there. When they tink Yankee\ncomin' you take to Sandhole Crick for hide. Mr. Carmichael sent by the\nstate. Go to Brookgreen, Longwood, Watsaw. Tell everting surrender. Go\nto any located place. He's a Gineral. Go open the barn door and give us\nall us need. He better to we nigger boy dan he Daddy been! Wouldn't beat\nyou 'thout the lil' boy really fightin'.\n\n\"Time o' the war the colored people hear 'bout Yankee. Not a one eber\nunderstand to run way and go to Yankee boat from WE plantation. These\nYankee people wuz walkin' 'bout on the beach. And while they come in to\nthe hill, the Reb have a battery to Laurel Hill and they cut off them\nYankee from the ocean. These they cut off they carry dem to Brookgreen\nbarn. Hang one colored man and one white man to Oaks Seashore. White man\nmusser be Sergeant or big Cap'n. Just as soon as the sun go down you see\na big streak come over and they BUSS (bust) Duds. Woman in the street\nkilled. (Street of negro Quarters--Brookgreen) Blacksmith killed. Cut\noff he brudder-in-law (Judy's) and kill Judy. Dem shell go clean to\nSandy Island. Pump make out o' brick to Brookgreen. Dat boy (shell) come\nand hit the pump. De horn blow and they make for flat and gwine on to\nSandhole down that black crick. There a man for dat--dat flat. Get\neverbody line up. Ain't gone there for PLAY. Gone for wuk (work). I was\nbig 'nouf to do diss--go wid my fadder and hold light.\n\n\"It this way. You ain't LOW to eat the whole rice you kin make money\nouter. Beat dat rice. But my Daddy been a great whiskey man. Liquor.\nDidn't have 'em less he go to town. Money scase. ('E wuz a kind of\nmusicianer for the Ward fambly). But he break he jug. He break he\nwhiskey jug. En when de obersheer (overseer) git out de ration and\ngib'em to mah Ma and us chillun he hand mah Pa a piece o' dem break jug!\nThat keep him in mind o' that whiskey jug.\n\n\"Yankee come here and butt us colored people. I 'member we youngun's\njust could 'tote up dem gold pitcher and bury dem in the garden. Not far\nfrom the flowers tank. Tank have on 'em a woman head (Flowers' tank was\na fountain). All the master fine ting way down there bury! De Ward\ndidn't loss nothin'. They move us out the plantation. Col. Ward took 'em\nin a flat to Mulbro.\n\n\"Dr. Heriot after the war took into big drinkin'. Didn't bury so decent.\nFell tru wid all he money. Not bury so decent.\"\n\n  =Source:= Told by Uncle Ben Horry, Age 88, April 1938, Murrells Inlet, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  Project #1655\n  Everett R. Pierce\n  Columbia, S.C.\n\n  INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE\n  MARGARET HUGHES, 82 YEARS.\n\n\n\"Missy, I likes to talk to de white folks, I gits awful lonesome for my\nmassa and missus, and de white folks I used to be wid. Yes'm, I was born\nout here 'bout ten miles from Columbia, at a little place called Nipper\nHill. My massa was named Daniel Finley, and my missus was named\nElizabeth, but we called her Missy Betsy. My massa had a big plantation\nand a heap of slaves; he had so many he couldn't keep us faces in his\nmind. One day he see some of us over on another plantation, and he ask\nus who we b'long to, and we tell him, and he just smile and say he\ncouldn't 'member all of us. De massa and de missus was so good to us\n'til de slaves on other plantations was jealous; they call us free\nniggers befo' we was freed.\n\nThe grown-up slaves had to work in de field all day and then at night\nthey spin cloth and make their clothes. We had one shoemaker what didn't\ndo nothing else much 'cept make shoes for all of us. I was too young to\ndo much work, so the missus mostly keep me in de house to nurse de\nchillun. When de chillun go to school, she make me go 'long wid them for\nto look after them and tote their books. I stayed wid them all day and\nbrought their books home in de evening.\n\nI got in trouble one day while I was at de school house; I was a right\nbad little gal, anyway. I got mad wid one of de little white chillun\n'cause she talk mean to Sissy, dat's one of my missus little girls, and\nI took her books and put them in a bucket of water. The teacher punish\nme, and told my missus I couldn't come back to de school house, 'less\nshe teach me how to behave more better. I was right good after that,\n'cause I was scared of whippings. My missus had three chillun: Mary, we\ncall her Sissy 'cause she de oldest, then Sally and Willie. I slept in\nde big house and play wid de white chillun. When de white folks went off\nin de carriage they always let me go too; I set up in de seat wid de\ndriver. They had awful pretty horses to drive.\n\nMassa Daniel had a overseer, named Jake Graddick. He kept de slaves at\nwork and looked after de crops. He woke de slaves every morning by\nblowing a big cow horn, and called them to dinner the same way. We went\nto work at sunrise, had two hours for dinner, and stopped work at\nsundown.\n\nThe slaves had plenty to eat, and had their own gardens. I helped work\nde gardens. My old daddy worked in de garden and made chairs for de\nslaves, besides working in de fields.\n\nMy massa never whip de slaves very much, but he do sometime. Once I saw\nmy poor old daddy in chains. They chained his feet together, and his\nhands too, and carry him off to whip him, 'cause he wouldn't tell who\nstole a trunk that was missing. He couldn't tell though, 'cause he\ndidn't know, but they thought he did.\n\nNo ma'am missy, us slaves never had no church to go to. We was allowed\nto go to de white folks' church though. There was a low partition in de\nchurch wid a little gate in it; we set on one side of it, and de white\nfolks on de other. We listen to de preaching and sung de songs right\n'long wid de white folks. Us never had no baptizings though. I learned a\nheap of things in Sunday School.\n\nTalking 'bout patrollers, I was awful scared of them. We had to have a\npass from our massa to go from one plantation to another, and if we went\nwithout a pad the patrollers would ketch us and whip us. I never did\nget ketched though. De only time de massa ever let us ride de horses was\nwhen he want us to carry a message from one plantation to another.\n\nYes ma'am, 'bout these weddings you asked me 'bout; well, we had a big\ntime when any of de slaves got married. De massa and de missus let them\nget married in de big house, and then we had a big dance at one of de\nslave house. De white folks furnish all kinds of good things to eat, and\nde colored peoples furnish de music for de dance. My mammy's brother\nbeen one of de best fiddlers there was; he teach de other niggers how to\nplay.\n\nThe best times we had was 'long in summer time, 'tending them Camp\nMeetings. We had good men to preach de service, and then all of us women\ngot together and spread a big picnic dinner, that we'd brought from home\nin baskets, and we sure had a good time. Sometime some of them eat so\nmuch they get sick. We ain't had so much sickness 'long them times\nthough, not like we do now. Us used to wear garlic and asafetida 'round\nour neck to keep off diseases; never had many neither. We was vaccinated\nto keep from ketching smallpox.\n\nWell little missy, I done told you just 'bout all I 'members 'cept 'bout\nde Yankees. When I used to hear de older niggers talking 'bout de\nYankees coming, I was scared, 'cause I thought it was some kind of\nanimal they was talking 'bout. My old aunty was glad to hear 'bout de\nYankees coming. She just set and talk 'bout what a good time we was\ngoing to have after de Yankees come. She'd say; 'Child we going to have\nsuch a good time a settin' at de white folks table, a eating off de\nwhite folks table, and a rocking in de big rocking chair.'\n\nSomething awful happen to one of de slaves though, when de Yankees did\ncome. One of de young gals tell de Yankees where de missus had her\nsilver, money and jewelry hid, and they got it all. What you think\nhappened to de poor gal? She'd done wrong I know, but I hated to see her\nsuffer so awful for it. After de Yankees had gone, de missus and massa\nhad de poor gal hung 'til she die. It was something awful to see. De\nYankees took everything we had 'cept a little food, hardly 'nough to\nkeep us alive.\n\nWhen de slaves were freed de most of them didn't had nowhere to go, so\nwe just stayed on wid de massa and missus and they was good to us as\nlong as we stayed wid them. I wishes sometime I was a slave again,\n'cause I likes being a slave, didn't have nothing to worry 'bout then.\"\n\n  Home address\n  3105 Asylum Road.\n\n\n\n\n  Code No.\n  Project, 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, May 18, 1937\n\n  No. ----\n  Reduced from ---- words\n  Rewritten by ----\n\n\n  MOM HESTER HUNTER\n  Ex-Slave, 85 years.\n\n\n\"Well, bless ye little heart, honey, ye say ye is wan' me to tell ye\n'bout how de people lived way back dere in slavery time. Honey, I dunno\nwha' to tell ye cause I ain' never been treated no ways but good in me\nlife by my Missus. I tell dese chillun here dat dey ain' never see no\nsech time uz dere been den. My Missus been marry Massa John Bethea en\ndey is raise dey flock up dere to de crossroads next Latta. Dat whey I\nbeen raise. Honey, my Missus see to it she self dat we look a'ter in de\nright way. Ain' never been made to do no work much den. Jes played dere\nin de back yard wid me dolls aw de time I wanna. Honey, I dunno nuthin\nto tell ye cause I is lib lak uh lamb in dem days.\"\n\n\"I wus born on de 25th uv December, right on de big Chrissmus day, dere\non Massa John plantation en I was 14 year old when freedom declare. I is\n85 year old now en, honey, me health jes uz good now uz ever it wuz. My\nMissus take sech good care uv us aw de time en see a'ter us she self\nwhen we sick en I is take sech good care uv me self a'ter I leab dere\ndat I 'spect to be here long time from now. Ain' know no ailment tall.\nCoase de rheumatism is worry me right smart on uh night. Honey, dis\nrheumatism ain' been cause from no bad teeth. I is hab eve'y tooth in me\nhead wha' I hab when I wuz 7 year old en dey jes uz good uz dey was\nden. It jes dis way, jes uz long uz I is workin', I feels mighty smart,\nmighty smart, child!\"\n\n\"I 'clare to goodness white folks come down here jes to hear me talk.\nHoney, I is wish I could stay wid yunnah aw de day. I could tell yunnah\naw 'bout dem days cause I ain' know nuthin but big living den. I tell me\ngrandchillun dat dem times 'ud be uh show for dem now. My Massa had uh\nbig plantation, honey, uh big plantation! Right in de center wuz me\nMissus house en den dere wuz two long row uv we house to de right dere\non de place close to de big house. I 'members when de plantation hand\nwha' work in de field been come to de house in de middle uv de day to\nge' dey dinner, I been lub to stand 'round de big pot en watch em when\ndey ge' dey sumptin to eat. Yas'um, dey is cook aw de food for de field\nhand in de same big ole black pot out in de yard. Yas'um, dey is put aw\nde victual in one pot. Dey'ud go to de smokehouse en cut off uh whole\nhalf uh side uv bacon en drap it right in dat pot. Dat been flavor de\npot jes right cause in dem days, us ration been season wid meat. Honey,\ndere 'ud be 'bout thirty uv dem hand wha' had to eat out dat pot. Dere\nbeen uh shelter built over de pot to keep de rain out en den dere was uh\nbig scaffold aw 'round de pot whey de put de pans when dey dish de\nvictual up. De field hands 'ud come dere en ge' dey pan uv ration offen\ndis scaffold.\"\n\n\"Now de chillun on de plantation ain' been 'low to eat outer dat pot wid\nde field hand. My auntie cook us victuals right dere in de kitchen on de\nMissus fireplace an we eat right dere outer us own separate pan. My\nMissus see she self dat we been fed right en she see dat de food been\ncook done, cook done, honey, en been seasoned right aw de time. My\nMissus ain' never stand fa me to go widout me meat fa break'ast. Al'ays\nhad hominy en milk en meat fa me break'ast en when supper time come, dey\nis al'ays gi'e us uh big bowl uv corn bread en milk. Folks ain' eat den\nlak dey does nowadays. Dey been eat more meat den en it ain' hu't dem\nlak it hu'ts em now. Honey, peoples ain' lib peaceful lak dey been lib\nden. Den peoples ain' cook dey food done lak de food been cook den. My\nauntie cook aw de bread right dere in de kitchen on de fireplace. I is\nhab some uv dem spider right here in de yard now. (She showed us two\niron spiders about 8 inches deep with three legs. One was being used in\nthe yard as a drinking place for the chickens and the other was\ncarelessly thrown just under the edge of her house.) When I come 'way\nfrom my Missus plantation, I been take care uv wha' I bring 'way wid me.\nDere uh ole loom dere in de house right now. I 'members how I use 'er\nlub to lie down on de Missus floor under de loom en watch my auntie when\nshe wuz spinning dere.\"\n\n\"Dey'ud hab gray sheep en white sheep den en dey'ud make sech nice\ncloth. Yas'um, dey'ud dye de cloth right dere on de plantation. I\n'member aw 'bout dat. De Missus hab uh big patch uv indigo dat dey\ngrowed right dere en dey'ud gather it en boil it in de pot en den dey'ud\ntake de cloth dat my auntie is help weave an put it in dat pot en dye it\njes uz pretty. My Missus see to it she self dat de plantation peoples\nclothes been make right en dat we is hab nice clean place to sleep. De\nMissus never 'low none uv us to lay down in rags. She see 'bout aw dis\nshe self. I know my Missus gone to Hebbun, honey, en I hope she restin'\ndere.\"\n\n  =Source:= Mom Hester Hunter, age 85, colored. (Personal\n          interview, Marion, S.C., May 1937.)\n\n\n\n\n  Code No.\n  Project, 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, October 15, 1937\n\n  No. ----\n  Reduced from ---- words\n  Rewritten by ----\n\n  MOM HESTER HUNTER\n  Ex-Slave, 85 Years\n\n\n\"Yes, mam, I remember all bout slavery time just as good as I know you\ndis mornin. Remember de first time dem Yankees come dere, I was settin\ndown in de chimney corner en my mammy was givin me my breakfast.\nRemember I been settin dere wid my milk en my bowl of hominy en I hear\nmy old grandmammy come a runnin in from out de yard en say all de sky\nwas blue as indigo wid de Yankees comin right dere over de hill den. Say\nshe see more Yankees den could ever cover up all de premises bout dere.\nDen I hear my Missus scream en come a runnin wid a lapful of silver en\ntell my grandmammy to hurry en sew dat up in de feather bed cause dem\nYankees was mighty apt to destroy all dey valuables. Old Missus tell all\nde colored people to get away, get away en take care of demselves en\ntell we chillun to get back to de chimney corner cause she couldn'\nprotect us noways no longer. Yes, honey, I was a little child settin\ndere in dat chimney corner listenin to all dat scamperin bout en I\nremember dat day just as good as it had been dis day right here.\"\n\n\"Oh, my God, dem Yankees never bring nothin but trouble en\ndestructiveness when dey come here, child. I remember I hear tell dat my\nold stepfather been gone to de mill to grind some corn en when he was\ncomin down de road, two big Yankees jump out de bushes side de road en\ntell him stop dere. He say dey tell him if he want to save his neck, he\nbetter get off dat ox right den en get away from dere. He say he been so\nscared he make for de woods fast as he could get dere en tell dat he\nlay down wid knots under his head many a night fore he would venture to\ncome out from dat woods. Never hear tell of his ox en corn no more\nneither. Oh, honey, my old Missus was a dear old soul en didn' none of\nher colored people have no mind to want to leave dere no time.\"\n\n\"We chillun never didn' know nothin bout no hard times in dat day en\ntime. Seems like de Lord had just open up en fix de way for us to have\neverything we want. Oh, honey, we chillun never been harness up in no\nlittle bit of place to play like dese chillun bout here dese days. We\nhad all de big fields en de pretty woods to wander round en bout en make\nus playhouse in. Seems like de Lord had made de little streams just\nright for we chillun to play in en all kind of de prettiest flowers to\ncome up right down side de paths us little feet had made dere, but dat\nwasn' nothin. Dere was flowers scatter bout everywhe' you look in de\nwoods en all kind of birds en squirrels en rabbits en honey, dey was\nlive play things. Dat how-come we been so satisfy. I here to tell you my\nold Missus was a dear old soul en we chillun sho had a fine time comin\nup. She didn' never have her niggers cut up en slashed up no time. She\nwas good to us en we stuck to her.\"\n\n\"In de mornin bout dis time, me en my Missus would take a walk in de\nwoods down by de creek. I remember I would be dere wid my mammy en old\nMissus would say, 'Judy, whe' Hester? I want her to take a walk wid me\ndis mornin.' I been bout five or six years old den en I would get\ntired. I say, 'Mittie, I tired, I tired.' She say, 'Well, set down en\nrest awhile.' I remember dere been a big old sweet gum tree settin dere\nside de creek dat had a place hollow out in it dat looked just like a\nchair been made dere. Old Missus would set down dere en take me right\ndown side her en stay dere till we was rested. I go wid her one day when\nde creek been rise way up high en dere been a heap of water in de road.\nI say, 'Mittie, I scared, I scared.' She tell me dere couldn' nothin\nhurt me en I remember we went on en see a big black fish just a jumpin\nin de road. Old Missus say, 'Hester, catch him, catch him.' I say,\n'Mittie, I can', I can', I scared.' I recollects she caught dat fish en\ntied it wid her garter en let me drag it home en tell my mammy cook it\nfor my supper. Honey, dat been a day. Never couldn' forget bout dat.\"\n\n\"I remember me en my old Missus went to de graveyard one mornin en we\nfound a runaway nigger hidin in a house dat was standin in de graveyard.\nDat was an old, old slavery time house to de graveyard en people would\ngo dere en hide. It was just like dis, honey, generally people in de\ncountry be scared of a graveyard en wouldn' nobody go dere to hunt dem.\nI remember just as good when he see us, he squatted down right low. I\nsay, 'Mittie, looka, looka, I scared.' Den she say, 'Hester, I notice de\nclouds are growin more en more gray en I fear we better be gettin back\nhome. I never like for a rain to catch us away from home.' I know Missus\nsay dat to make me think she wasn' scared, but I never had no mind to\ntell her I know what been de matter dat she want to hurry home. Yes'um,\ndat old house in de graveyard was one of dem kind dat been settin high\noff de ground. Dat de kind of house dey cook underneath in slavery time.\nCose it was closed up when dey had de kitchen down dere. No, mam, Massa\nnever didn' go to walk wid old Missus. He was seein over all de\nplantation en Missus didn have but one son, little John O. Bethea, en he\nwas gone off to school. No, child, old Missus wouldn' never allow nobody\nto go wid her but just me.\"\n\n\"You see, it was like dis, my old Missus been name Sara Davis fore she\nmarry Massa John Bethea en my mammy en grandmammy had come up wid her in\nde country en dat how-come dere been such a feelin twixt dem. Yes, mam,\nI love my old Missus better den I ever love honey en flour bread cause\nshe was a dear old soul. You see, she was always lookin to me to do\nsomethin for her. Say I was her favorite child to pick up things bout de\nhouse en yard for her. She always had my mammy preserve me en Bob as her\nfavorite house chillun. She wouldn' never allow none of dem other nigger\nchillun to come nowhe' round whe' she was cause dem what went bout de\nMissus never didn' stay to de nigger quarter no time. My grandmammy, she\nhad to get all dem other plantation chillun together en see dat dey do\nwhat de Missus look for dem to do.\"\n\n\"My God, child, people never know nothin but to go to church on de big\nSunday in dat day en time. No, mam, dey know dat been dey Massa rule en\ndidn' nobody have no mind to question nothin bout it. My old Missus was\na dear old soul en she would see to it dat all her niggers wash en iron\nen cook on Saturday cause she never allow no work gwine on round whe'\nshe was when Sunday come, be dat she know bout it. I remember my old\nMassa en Missus used to ride to church in dey big black carriage en dey\nalways would carry me en Bob right dere in de carriage wid dem somehow\nanother. Stuff us down 'tween de seats somewhe'. I recollects just as\nbright as de stars be shinin old Missus would carry me en Bob to de same\nlittle seats we been sit in every Sunday en den she en old Massa would\ngo to dey certain pew in de front part of de church. Oh, honey, dat was\na day for dem niggers to walk de road to church. Dat was a picnic for\ndem. Oh, dey never had to walk but bout four miles. Why, darlin, I used\nto walk fourteen miles to church every Sunday en didn' think nothin bout\nit. I think dat was de finest thing I know for me en my grandfather to\nwalk 14 miles to church over dere on de hill every Sunday. I remember we\nwould set out bout time de sun would be risin. Yes, mam, we would carry\nour dinner wid us cause we know we would be till night gettin back home\nagain. It just like I been tell you, de peoples sho cook dey dinner for\nSunday on Saturday in dat day en time. Dat been a mighty good thing,\nchild, been a mighty good thing. Honey, it been de rule to follow what\nde Bible say do in dat day en time en now it seem like de rule must be,\ndo like you see de other fellow is doin. Yes, mam, if you ain' been to\nchurch in dat day en time, you sho had to report how-come you ain' been\ndere.\"\n\n\"I tell you, child, I been here. If I live to see de Christmas day, I'll\nbe past 85 years old. I ain' been up town in God knows when en I wants\nto go so bad back to see my white folks. Dem Evans chillun, dey comes to\nsee me often. Dat child had took dat trip round de world en she come\nright back en tell me all bout it. Well, bless my heart, she done gone\nen get married last Sunday en I never know bout it. She tell me she was\ngwine marry one of dese days, but I never know. I hope dat man will take\ncare of her en be good to my baby. I hope her older days won' be her\nworser days.\"\n\n\"Yes, mam, I remember just as good as it was yesterday what dey say when\nfreedom come here. Oh, I hates to think bout dat day till dis one.\nRemember dey call all de niggers up to de yard en I hear old Missus say,\n'You don' no more belong to me. You can go if you want to en if you want\nto, you can stay.' I say, 'Yes, mam, I do want to stay, I ain' gwine\nleave you.' Dat was my white mammy en I stay dere long as she live too.\nDidn' want no better livin den I was gettin right dere. It been a\nParadise, be dat what I calls it.\"\n\n  =Source:= Hester Hunter, ex-slave, 85 years, Marion, S.C.\n          Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Oct., 1937.\n\n\n\n\n  Code No.\n  Project, 1885-(1)\n  Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n  Place, Marion, S.C.\n  Date, October 26, 1937\n\n  No. ----\n  Reduced from ---- words\n  Rewritten by ----\n\n  MOM HESTER HUNTER\n  Ex-Slave, 85 Years\n\n\n\"Bless my soul, honey, I tell you I been here a time. Been here a day. I\ntell dese chillun here de other week dere ain' no need for me to be\nfrettin bout nothin no more cause my time bout out. I got my ducks en my\nchickens en my chair right dere in de yard en I stays out dere wid dem\nall de day till sundown. You see, I have such a hurtin in my back en\nsuch a drawin in my knees en seems like de sun does just help me along\nto bear de pain, but honey, I been walkin a long time. I remember I been\na little child in de bed listenin on en I hear my aunt come in one day\nen say, 'Ma, I hear boss talkin bout dey gwine free de niggers.' Ma say,\n'I don' have no mind for nothin like dat. I gwine be gone en you gwine\nbe gone too fore den.' Child, I sho been here a time. Remember dey been\nfour years buildin dem embankments en dey been four years fightin. Yes,\nmam, I been through a day since I come here.\"\n\n\"Honey, I was a hustlier when I was a young woman en dat de reason my\nchillun had such good schoolin. If it had been left to my husband, dey\nwouldn' been know A from B. I think bout how my old Massa used to try to\nlearn me to spell en dat how-come I had such a feelin for my chillun to\nget some learnin. My daughter, she taught 20 years in dat school right\nover dere en when she see dat I wasn' able to carry on no longer, she\nthrowed up her hands one day en say she wasn' gwine teach school no\nmore. Tell Bill en dem chillun dat she was gwine stay here home en keep\nme from fallin in de pots. Den she put out de word dat she would do a\nwashin for dis one en a washin for dat one en honey, I see her dere\nwashin so hard sometimes, I have a feelin dat I would rather she be out\nen gone from here. Seems like it does hurt me so to see her wastin away\nlike dat after I been worry so to give her such a good school learnin.\"\n\n\"I tell you when I come up, it de Lord's truth, I ain' know nothin but a\ndecent livin all de time. My old Missus was a dear old soul en I been\nraise dat way. I hear talk bout how some of de white folks would bout\ntorture dey niggers to death sometimes, but never didn' see my white\nfolks allow nothin like dat. Dey would whip dey niggers dat runaway en\nstay in de woods, but not so worser. No, mam, my Missus wouldn' allow no\nslashin round bout whe' she was. I remember my boss had one of my old\nMissus niggers up dere in de yard one mornin en say he was gwine whip\nhim en my Missus say, 'John O., you let my nigger alone.' You see, my\nMissus had her niggers en den old Boss had his niggers cause when old\nMissus been marry Massa John O. Bethea, she had brought here share of\nniggers from whe' she was raise in de country. It been like dis, old\nMissus father had scratch de pen for everyone of his chillun to have so\nmany niggers apiece for dey portion of his property so long as dey would\nlook after dem en treat dem good. Den if dere been talk dat dem chillun\nnever do what he say do, dey was to take dem niggers right back to dey\nold Massa home. But, child, dey never didn' take no niggers away from\nmy old Missus cause she sho took care of dem. Stuck to her niggers till\nshe died.\"\n\n\"I remember just as good dere been two long row of nigger house up in de\nquarter en de Bethea niggers been stay in de row on one side en de Davis\nniggers been stay in de row on de other side. En, honey, dere been so\nmuch difference in de row on dis side en de row on dat side. My God,\nchild, you could go through dere en spot de Sara Davis niggers from de\nBethea niggers time you see dem. Won' no trouble no time. All old Missus\nniggers had dey bresh (brush) pile side dey house to sun dey beds on en\ndry dey washin cause my Missus would see to it herself dat dey never\nkept no nasty livin. We was raise decent, honey, en dat how-come me en\nmy chillun is dat way to dis very day. Dere dat child in de house now,\nshe does put fresh sheet on all us bed every week just like dey was\nwhite people bed. You see, if you raise dat way, you ain' gwine never be\nno ther way. Yes, mam, my old Missus sho took time to learn her niggers\nright. Honey, both dese hands here was raise not to steal. I been cook\nfor heap of dese white folks bout here dat been left everything right\nwide open wid me en ain' nobody never hear none of dem complain bout\nlosin nothin to dis day. No, mam, ain' nobody never didn' turn no key on\nme. I remember, if my old Missus would hear talk dat we been bother\nsomethin dat didn' belong to us, she would whip us en say, 'I'm not mad,\nbut you chillun have got to grow up some day en you might have to suffer\nworse den dis if you don' learn better while you young.\"\n\n\"Yes, mam, dat been a day. Dem niggers what been bred on Massa John C.\nBethea's plantation never know nothin but big livin in dat day en time.\nRemember all bout dem days. Recollect dat dey would give all dey colored\npeople so much of flour for dey Sunday eatin en den dey had a certain\nwoman on de place to cook all de other ration for de niggers in one big\npot out in old Massa's yard. All de niggers would go dere to de pot on\nSunday en get dey eatin like turnips en collards en meat en carry it to\ndey house en make dey own bread. Den in de week time, dey would come out\nde field at 12 o'clock en stand round de pot en eat dey pan of ration en\nden dey would go back in de field en work. When dey would come home at\nnight, dere would be enough cook up for dem to carry home to last till\nde next day dinner. Didn' eat no breakfast no time. Had meat en greens\nen corn bread en dumplings to eat mostly en won' no end to milk. Got\nplenty of dat en dey was sho glad to get it. Cose dem what been stay to\nde white folks house would eat to de Missus kitchen. En, my Lord, child,\nmy white folks had de prettiest kind of rice dat dey made right dere on\ndey own plantation. Had plenty rice to last dem from one year to de\nother just like dey had dey hominy. Den old Massa had a big fish pond en\nin de summer time when it would get too hot to work, he would allow all\nhis plantation niggers to catch all de pikes en jacks dey wanted en salt\ndem down in barrels for de winter. Didn' allow nobody to go nowhe' bout\ndat fish pond but us niggers. En another thing, dey wouldn' cure dey\nmeat wid nothin but dis here green hickory wood en I speak bout what I\nbeen know, dere ain' never been nothin could touch de taste of dem hams\nen shoulder meat. Oo--oo--oo, honey, dey would make de finest kind of\nsausages in dem days. I tell my chillun I just bout turn against dese\nsausage de people make bout here dese days.\"\n\n\"Yes, mam, I been hearin bout dat thing call conjurin all my days, ever\nsince I been in dis world, but I ain' never put no faith in nothin like\ndat. I say, I don' want no hand but what God give me. I remember I got\nde sore eyes one time en a woman come to me en say, 'Miss Hester, dere a\nwoman in dis town poison you.' Tell me dey put somethin on de rag I had\nwipe my eyes wid. I tell her she was wastin her speech cause I know I\nnever had nothin to worry bout. It de blessed truth I'm tellin you, dere\nsome of dese people right bout here now got dese transfer driver gwine\ndown in de country to get people to do somethin for dem all de time.\nHoney, if some people in dis town had dis rheumatism I got, dey would\nswear somebody do somethin to dem. Oh, my God, dere so much devilment\ngwine on in de world dese days. I sho has faith in God en I reckon dat\nhow-come I gets along so good.\"\n\n\"Oh, de people, dey is awful worser den what dey used to be. I know by\nmy comin on dat dey awful worser. De little tots bout here dese days\nknow things de older people used to be de only ones dat know bout. Yes,\nmam, I sets down en prays when others sleep en I say, 'Lord, what gwine\nhappen? Look like de young people on de straight road to hell gettin in\nso much devilment. When I was comin up, I didn' have nothin to grieve\nover, but seem like dere somethin all de time dese days. I does worry\nbout it so much sometimes, child, I goes along just a whistlin, 'Lord, I\nwish I had went fore I had so much to grieve over.'\n\n  =Source:= Hester Hunter, age 85, Marion, S.C.\n          Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, October, 1937.","title":"Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews with Former Slaves, Volume XIV, South Carolina Narratives, Part 2","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":94730}