{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_28170/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_28170","id":"gutenberg_28170","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28170","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 The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttps://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images\ngenerously made available by the Library of Congress,\nManuscript Division)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n [Transcriber's Note:\n\n  This text is mainly written in dialect. As such, the majority of the\n  spelling, grammar, and punctuation irregularities have been preserved,\n  with the exception of a number of typographical errors. A full list of\n  them can be found at the end of the text.]\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 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\n\n\n VOLUME XIV\n\n SOUTH CAROLINA NARRATIVES\n\n PART 4\n\n Prepared by\n the Federal Writers' Project of\n the Works Progress Administration\n for the State of South Carolina\n\n\n\n\nINFORMANTS\n\n\n Raines, Mary          1\n Range, Frank          3\n Rawls, Sam            5, 7\n Renwick, Ellen        9\n Rice, Anne            10\n Rice, Jessie          12\n Rice, Phillip         17\n Richardson, Martha    19\n Riley, Mamie          23\n Riser, Susie          25\n Roberts, Isom         26\n Robertson, Alexander  31\n Robinson, Charlie     35\n Rosboro, Al           38\n Rosboro, Tom          42\n Rosborough, Reuben    45\n Rose, William         48\n Russell, Benjamin     51\n Rutherford, Joe       55\n Rutherford, Lila      57\n Rutledge, Sabe        59, 65\n Ryan, Henry           71, 74\n\n Satterwhite, Emoline  75\n Scaife, Alexander     76\n Scantling, Eliza      78\n Scott, Mary           81\n Scott, Nina           88\n Scurry, Morgan        89\n Simmons, Ransom       91\n Sligh, Alfred         92\n Smith, Dan            95\n Smith, Hector         100, 105\n Smith, Jane           110\n Smith, Mary           112\n Smith, Prince         116\n Smith, Silas          119\n Sparrow, Jessie       121, 125, 130, 136, 141\n Starke, Rosa          147\n Stewart, Josephine    151\n Suber, Bettie         155\n Swindler, Ellen       156\n\n Taylor, Mack          157\n Thompson, Delia       160\n Toatley, Robert       163\n\n Veals, Mary           167, 169\n\n Walker, Manda         170\n Walker, Med           174\n Waring, Daniel        181\n Washington, Nancy     184\n Watson, Charley       188\n White, Dave           191, 194\n White, Tena           196\n Williams, Bill        199\n Williams, Jesse       202\n Williams, Mary        206\n Williams, Willis      208\n Wilson, Emoline       213, 215\n Wilson, Jane          216\n Woodberry, Genia      218\n Woodberry, Julia      227, 232, 237, 242\n Woods, George         247\n Woodward, Aleck       253\n Woodward, Mary        257\n Worth, Pauline        260\n Wright, Daphney       266\n\n Young, Bill           270\n Young, Bob            273\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=MARY RAINES=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 99 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nMary Raines is the oldest living person, white or black, in Fairfield\nCounty. If she survives until next December, she will have attained her\ncentury of years. She lives with her widowed daughter, Fannie\nMcCollough, fifty-seven years old, and a son, Joe Raines, aged 76 years.\nThey rent a two-room frame house, on lands of Mrs. Sallie Wylie, Chester\nCounty, S.C. Joe, the son, is a day laborer on nearby farms. Fannie\ncooks for Mrs. W.T. Raines. Old Mother Mary has been receiving a county\npension of $5.00 per month for several years.\n\n\"How old would Marse William Woodward be if he hadn't died befo' I gwine\nto die? A hundred and twenty, you say? Well, dat's 'bout de way I\nfigured my age. Him was a nephew of Marse Ed, de fust Marse Ed P.\nMobley. Him say dat when him 'come twenty-one, old marster give him a\nbirthday dinner and 'vite folks to it. Marse Riley McMaster, from\nWinnsboro, S.C., was dere a flyin' 'round my young mistress, Miss\nHarriett. Marse Riley was a young doctor, ridin' 'round wid saddlebags.\nWhile they was all settin' down to dinner, de young doctor have to git\nup in a hurry to go see my mammy. Left his plate piled up wid turkey,\nnice dressin', rice and gravy, candy 'tatoes, and apple marmalade and\ncake. De wine 'canter was a settin' on de 'hogany sideboard. All dis him\nleave to go see mammy, who was a squallin' lak a passle of patarollers\n(patrollers) was a layin' de lash on her. When de young doctor go and\ncome back, him say as how my mammy done got all right and her have a gal\nbaby. Then him say dat Marse Ed, his uncle, took him to de quarter where\nmammy was, look me all over and say: 'Ain't her a good one? Must weigh\nten pounds. I's gwine to name dis baby for your mama, William. Tell her\nI name her, Mary, for her, but I 'spects some folks'll call her 'Polly',\njust lak they call your mama, 'Polly'.\n\n\"I was a strong gal, went to de field when I's twelve years old, hoe my\nacre of cotton, 'long wid de grown ones, and pick my 150 pounds of\ncotton. As I wasn't scared of de cows, they set me to milkin' and\nchurnin'. Bless God! Dat took me out of de field. House servants 'bove\nde field servants, them days. If you didn't git better rations and\nthings to eat in de house, it was your own fault, I tells you! You just\nhave to help de chillun to take things and while you doin' dat for them,\nyou take things for yourself. I never call it stealin'. I just call it\ntakin' de jams, de jellies, de biscuits, de butter and de 'lasses dat I\nhave to reach up and steal for them chillun to hide 'way in deir little\nstomaches, and me, in my big belly.\n\n\"When Joe drive de young doctor, Marse Riley, out to see Mass Harriett,\nwhile Marse Riley doin' his courtin' in de parlor, Joe was doin' his\ncourtin' in de kitchen. Joe was as smart as de nex' one. Us made faster\ntime than them in de parlor; us beat them to de marriage. Marse Riley\ncall it de altar, but Joe always laugh and say it was de halter. Many is\nde time I have been home wid them sixteen chillun, when him was a\ngallavantin' 'round, and I wished I had a got a real halter on dat\nhusband of mine.\n\n\"I b'longs to de Gladden's Grove African Methodist 'Piscopal Church. Too\nold to shout but de great day is comin', when I'll shout and sing to de\nmusic of dat harp of 10,000 strings up yonder. Oh! Won't dat be a joyful\nday, when dese old ailin' bones gonna rise again.\" (Then the old darkey\nbecame suffused in tears, lapsed into a silence and apathy, from which\nshe couldn't be aroused. Finally she slumbered and snored. It would have\nbeen unkind to question her further.)\n\n\n\n\n =Project 935=\n =Hattie Mobley=\n =Richland County=\n\n=FRANK RANGE=\n\n=CIVIL WAR SERVANT and HERO=\n\n\nAt the age of one hundred and three, Frank Range is a familiar figure on\nthe streets of Greenville, talking freely of pre-Civil and Civil War\ndays, and the part he played in the war.\n\nFrank, the oldest of nine children, was born of slave parents, Lenard\nand Elizabeth Herbert, on the plantation of Mr. Jim Boler, Newberry,\nSouth Carolina. He was sold several times, and is known by the name of\none of his owners, John Range.\n\nDuring the Civil War his master, Mr. Jim Herbert, carried him to the war\nas a cook, and when necessary, he was pressed into service, throwing up\nbreast-works; and while he was engaged in this work, at Richmond Va. a\nterrific bombardment of their lines was made, and a part of their\nbreast-works was crushed in, and his master buried beneath it. Frantic\nwith fear for the safety of his master, Frank began to move the dirt\naway; finally he was able to drag him to safety. Though shot and shell\nwere falling all around him, he came out unscathed.\n\nFrank Range returned to Newberry at the close of the war, after which he\nmoved to Greenville County in 1901, and into the city in 1935. He is\nnever happier than when, in the center of a group of willing hearers, he\nis reciting in a sing-song tone the different periods of his life.\n\nHe attributes his longevity to the fact that he has never tasted\nwhiskey, never chewed tobacco; never had a fight; toothache and\nheadache are unknown to him; the service of a physician has never been\nneeded; he does not know one playing card from another. He can walk five\nor more miles with seeming ease; is jovial and humorous.\n\nHe receives a state pension of twenty five dollars annually. His place\nof residence is 101 Hudson St. Greenville, S.C.\n\n\n  References;\n\n  Mr. Guy A. Gullick,\n  Probate Judge, Greenville County.\n\n  Frank Range (information given concerning himself)\n  101 Hudson St. Greenville S.C.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =FOLKLORE=\n =Spartanburg Dist. 4=\n =June 15, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I was born in 1835 in Lexington County, S.C. I know I was 12 years old\nde last year of de war. I belonged to John Hiller in Lexington County,\nnear Columbia, S.C. Old Marse Hiller was strict to his slaves, wasn't\nmean, but often whipped 'em. I thought it was all right then. When de\nYankees come through burning, killing and stealing stock, I was in\nmarse's yard. Dey come up whar de boss was standing, told him dere was\ngoing to be a battle, grabbed him and hit him. Dey burned his house,\nstole de stock, and one Yankee stuck his sword to my breast and said fer\nme to come wid him or he would kill me. O' course I went along. Dey took\nme as fer as Broad River, on t'other side o' Chapin; then turned me\nloose and told me to run fast or they would shoot me. I went fast and\nfound my way back home by watching de sun. Dey told me to not go back to\ndat old man.\n\n\"De slaves never learnt to read and write. If any o' dem was caught\ntrying to learn to read or write, dey was whipped bad. I kotched on to\nwhat de white chilluns said, and learnt by myself to say de alphabet.\n\n\"We went to de white churches atter de war, and set in de gallery. Den\nde niggers set up a 'brush harbor' church fer demselves. We went to\nschool at de church, and atter school was out in de atternoon, we had\npreaching.\n\n\"Befo' freedom come, de patrollers was strong dere, and whipped any\nniggers dey kotched out without a pass; wouldn't let dem go to church\nwithout a pass.\n\n\"Lots of hunting round dere, dey hunted rabbits, squirrels, foxes and\n'possums. Dey fished like dey do now.\n\n\"De white folks had old brick ovens away from de house, and wide\nfireplaces in de kitchens. Dey cooked many things on Saturdays, to last\nseveral days. Saturday afternoons, we had off to catch up on washing and\nother things we wanted to do.\n\n\"I 'member de Ku Klux and de Red Shirts, but don't 'member anything dey\ndid dere.\n\n\"We had corn-shuckings and cotton pickings, when de white people would\nhave everybody to come and help. Us niggers would help. Dey had big\nsuppers afterwards.\n\n\"We had plenty to eat from de garden of de boss, a big garden dat\nfurnished all de slaves. Den de boss killed hogs and had other things to\neat. Most o' de things raised in de garden, was potatoes, turnips,\ncollards and peas.\n\n\"Some of us had witches. One old woman was a witch, and she rode me one\nnight. I couldn't get up one night, had a ketching of my breath and\ncouldn't rise up. She held me down. In dem days, was lots o' fevers with\nde folks. Dey cured 'em and other sickness wid teas from root herbs and\nbarks.\n\n\"Abraham Lincoln was a good man. He said you folks ought to let dem\nniggers loose and let dem go to work. He come wid his two men, Grant and\nSherman, and captured de slave bosses. Jeff Davis was one o' de\nforerunners of de war. Don't know much about him. Booker T. Washington\nis a good man. Think he is in office fer a good purpose. I been married\nfour times, Was young man when I married first time. Gussie Gallman, my\nlast wife, is living wid me.\"\n\n\n  Source: Sam Rawls (84), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/9/37)\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =Folklore=\n =Spartanburg, Dist. 4=\n =Oct. 13, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I live wid my fourth wife and she is much younger dan me. I am unable\nto work and have to stay in bed lots of de time. My wife works at odd\njobs, like washing, ironing and cooking. We rent a two-room house from\nMiss Ann Ruff.\n\n\"I belonged to John Hiller. He was a good master but he worked his\nslaves hard. Dat was in Lexington County.\n\n\"I heard dat Gen. Grant said de slaves ought to get 40 acres of land and\na mule so dey could go to work; but dey never got any dat I knows of.\nAtter Freedom dey worked as wage earners and share-croppers. Some went\nto other farms to get jobs. Dat's about what dey do now, but some of dem\nsaved a little money and bought farms and some started little businesses\nof deir own.\n\n\"De Ku Klux didn't have much influence wid de slaves or ex-slaves. As\nsoon as de war broke, dey went riding up and down de public roads to\ncatch and beat niggers. My brother run off when dey got atter him. He\nwent to Orangeburg County and stayed down dere.\n\n\"I voted twice den, once at Prosperity and again at Newberry. I was a\nRepublican, of course. Some of de Niggers of dis state was elected to\noffice, but dey was not my kinfolks nor special friends. I think niggers\nought to vote so dey could vote fer good white folks; and dey ought to\nrun fer office if dey could be elected by good white folks.\n\n\"I was sixteen years old when de Yankees come through dis country. Dey\ncaught me in de road and made me go wid dem to Broad River where dey\ncamped one night. Den dey turned me loose and told me to git. I run as\nfast as I could. I followed de setting sun, de road running towards de\nsun all de time, and got home about night.\n\n\"Since freedom is come de niggers have worked mostly on farms as\nshare-croppers; some as renters wid deir own crops to raise.\n\n\"De present generation of niggers ain't got much sense. Dey work when\ndey want to, and have deir own way about it. De old niggers was learned\nto work when dey was little.\n\n\"I don't know nothing about de Nat Turner Rebellion. I never know'd but\none old nigger dat come from Virginia, old Ellen Abner. She lived below\nProsperity fer a long time, in de Stoney Hills.\n\n\"Yes sir, I tries to live right and git along wid everybody.\"\n\n\n  Source: Sam Rawls (80), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/23/37.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885 -1-=\n =Spartanburg, S.C.=\n =District #4=\n =May 31, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Martha Ritter=\n\n=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I was born on Capt. John P. Kinard's place. My mammy and pa was Lucy\nand Eph Kinard who belonged to Marse Kinard. Marse Kinard was good to\nhis slaves--didn't whip them much. He whipped me a little. When I was a\nlittle girl I slept in the big house in the room with my mistress and\nher husband, and waited on them. I worked when I got old enough, in the\nfield, and anywhere around. When I wouldn't work good, my mammy whipped\nme most.\n\n\"I 'member the folks cooked in skillets over an old fireplace.\n\n\"After the war was over and freedom come we stayed on with Capt. Kinard,\n'till I married and then went over to Dock Renwick's place where my\nhusband worked. I married Tom Renwick. We went to the church of the\ncolored folks after the war, and had preachings in mornings and evenings\nand at night, too. We didn't have no nigger schools, and we didn't learn\nto read and write.\n\n\"The white folks had corn-shuckings, cotton pickings at night, when the\nmistress would fix a big dinner for all working.\"\n\n\n  SOURCE: Ellen Renwick (79), RFD, Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: Mr. G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St.,\n  Newberry, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885 -1-=\n =District #4=\n =Spartanburg, S.C.=\n =June 7, 1937=\n\n=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I was born in Spartanburg County, S.C., near Glenn Springs. I can't\n'member slavery or de war, but my ma and pa who was Green Foster and his\nwife, Mary Posey Foster, always said I was a big gal when the war\nstopped, when freedom come.\n\n\"We belonged to Seth Posey who had a big farm there. He was a good man,\nbut sure made us work. I worked in the fields when I was small, hoed and\npicked cotton, hoed corn. They didn't give us no money for it. All we\ngot was a place to sleep and a little to eat. The big man had a good\ngarden and give us something from it. He raised loads of hogs, to eat\nand to sell. He sold lots of them. The young fellows hunted rabbits,\npossums, squirrels, wild turkeys, partridges, doves, and went fishing.\nThe Master's wife, Miss Nancy, was good to us. She had one son, William.\n\n\"Yes, I 'member my ma telling us 'bout the padder-rollers. They would\nride around, whipping niggers.\n\n\"My ma said her step-mother sold her. Sometimes they would take crowds\nof slaves to Mississippi, taking away mothers from their infant babies,\nleaving the babies on the floor.\n\n\"We always shuck corn and shell it at night, on moon-light nights we\npick cotton. On Saturday afternoons we had frolics, sometimes frolics\n'till Sunday daylight, then sleep all day Sunday.\n\n\"When we got sick all the medicine we took was turpentine--dat would\ncure almost any ailment. Some of the niggers used Sampson snake weed or\npeach leaves boiled and tea drunk.\n\n\"I joined the church when I was 12 years old 'cause the other girls\njoined. I think everybody ought to join a church to get their souls\nright for heaven:\n\n\"I married Charley Rice in Spartanburg County, at a colored man's house,\nnamed Henry Fox, by a colored preacher named 'Big Eye' Bill Rice. I had\nfour children, and have five grand-children. I have been living in\nNewberry about 35 years or more. I worked as a wash-woman many years.\n\n\"When freedom come, my folks stayed on with Capt. Posey, and I washed\nand ironed with them later when I was big enough. I done some cooking,\ntoo. I could card and spin and make homespun dresses. My ma learned me.\n\n\"I don't know much about Abraham Lincoln and Jeff Davis but reckon dey\nwas good men. I never learned to read and write. Booker Washington, I\nreckon, is a good man.\"\n\n\n  SOURCE: Anne Rice (75), 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 =Jan. 17, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"My people tells me a lot about when I was a lil' wee boy. I has a clear\nmind and I allus has had one. My folks did not talk up people's age like\nfolks do dese days. Every place dat I be now, 'specially round dese\ngovernment folks, first thing dat dey wants to know is your name. Well,\ndat is quite natu'al, but de very next question is how old you is. I\ndon't know, why it is, but dey sho do dat. As my folks never talked age,\nit never worried me till jes' here of late. So dey says to me dat last\nweek I give one age to de man, and now I gives another. Soon I see'd dat\nand I had to rest my mind on dat as well as de mind of de government\nfolks. So I settled it at 80 years old. Dat gives me respect from\neverybody dat I sees. Den it is de truth, too, kaise I come along wid\neverybody dat is done gone and died now. De few white folks what I was\ncontemperment (contemporary) wid, 'lows dat I is 80 and dey is dat, too.\n\n\"You know dat I does 'member when dat Sherman man went through here wid\ndem awful mens he had. Dey 'lowed dat dey was gwine to Charlotte to git\nback to Columbia. I never is heard of sech befo' or since. We lived at\nold man Jerry Moss's in Yorkville, way back den. Yes sir, everyone said\nYorkville, den, but dey ain't never called Gaffney like dat. Stories\ngoes round 'bout Sherman shooting folks. Some say dat he shot a big rock\noff'n de State House in Columbia. My Ma and my Pa, Henry and Charity\nRice, hid me wid dem when Sherman come along. Us never see'd him, Lawd\nGod no, us never wanted to see him.\n\n\"Folks allus crying hard times dese days, ain't no hard times now like\nit was atter Sherman went through Yorkville. My ma and pa give me ash\ncake and 'simmon beer to eat for days atter dat. White folks never had\nno mo', not till a new crop was grow'd. Dat year de seasons was good and\ngardens done well. Till den us nearly starved and we never had no easy\ntime gitting garden seed to plant, neither.\n\n\"Yes sir, if I's handy to locust I makes locust beer; den if I's handy\nto 'simmons, why den I makes 'simmon beer. Now it's jes' for to pass de\ntime dat us does dat. But gwine back to de war; den it was for\nnecessity. Dese young'uns now don't know what hard times is. Dey all has\nbread and meat and coffee, no matter how poor dey is. If dey had to live\nfor days and weeks on ash cake and 'simmon beer, as us did den, and work\nand wait on a crop wid nothing but dat in deir bellies; den dey could\ngrumble hard times. I allus tells 'em to shut up when dey starts\nanything like dat around me.\n\n\"When dat crop come along, we sho did fall in and save all us could for\nde next year. Every kind of seed and pod dat grow'd we saved and dried\nfor next spring or fall planting. Atter folks is once had deir belly\naching and growling for victuals, dey ain't never gwine to throw no\nrations and things away no mo'. Young folks is powerful wasteful, but if\nsomething come along to break up deir good time like it did to us when\ndat man Sherman held everything up, dey sho will take heed, and dey\nwon't grumble 'bout it neither, cause dey won't have no time to grumble.\n\n\"Things passes over quicker sometimes dan we figures out dat dey will.\nEverything, no matter how good it be or how hard, passes over. Dey jes'\ndoes like dat. So dem Yankees went on somewhars, I never know'd whar,\nand everything round Yorkville was powerful relieved. Den de\nConfederate soldiers started coming across Broad River. Befo' dey got\nhome, word had done got round dat our folks had surrendered; but dem\nYankees never fit (fought) us out--dey starved us out. If things had\nbeen equal us would a-been fighting dem till dis day, dat us sho would.\nI can still see dem soldiers of ours coming across Broad River, all\ndirty, filthy, and lousy. Dey was most starved, and so poor and lanky.\nAnd deir hosses was in de same fix. Men and hosses had know'd plenty\ntill dat Sherman come along, but most of dem never know'd plenty no\nmore. De men got over it better dan de hosses. Women folks cared for de\nmen. Dey brewed tea from sage leaves, sassafras root and other herb\nteas. Nobody never had no money to fetch no medicine from de towns wid,\nso dey made liniments and salves from de things dat grow'd around about\nin de woods and gardens.\n\n\"I told you 'bout how small I was, but my brother, Jim Rice, went to\nCharleston and helped to make dem breastworks down dar. I has never\nsee'd dem, but dem dat has says dat dey is still standing in good\nconditions. Cose de Yankees tore up all dat dey could when dey got dar.\n\n\"Lots of rail fences was made back in dem days. Folks had a 'no fence'\nlaw, dat meant dat everybody fenced in deir fields and let de stock run\nfree. Hogs got wild and turkeys was already wild. Sometimes bulls had to\nbe shot to keep dem from tearing up everything. But folks never fenced\nin no pasture den. Dey put a rail fence all around de fields, and in dem\ndays de fields was never bigger dan ten or fifteen acres. Logs was\nplentiful, and some niggers, called 'rail splitters', never done nothing\nelse but split rails to make fences.\n\n\"If I recollects right, Wade Hampton broke down fence laws in dis\ncountry. I sho heard him talk in Yorkville. Dey writ about him in de\nYorkville Inquirer and dey still has dat paper over dar till now. De Red\nShirts come along and got Wade Hampton in. He scared de Yankees and\nCarpetbaggers and all sech folks as dem away from our country. Dey went\nback whar dey come from, I reckon.\n\n\"De Ku Klux was de terriblest folks dat ever crossed my path. Who dey\nwas I ain't never know'd, but dey took Alex Leech to Black's Ford on\nBullet Creek and killed him for being a radical. It was three weeks\nbefo' his folks got hold of his body.\n\n\"Dr. Bell's calves got out and did not come back for a long time. Mrs.\nBell fear'd dat dey was gitting wild, so she sent de milk girl down on\nde creek to git dem calves. Dat girl had a time, but she found 'em and\ndrove 'em back to de lot. De calves give her a big chase and jumped de\ncreek near a big raft of logs dat had done washed up from freshets. All\nover dem logs she saw possums, musrats and buzzards a-setting around.\nShe took her stick and drove dem all away, wid dem buzzards puking at\nher. When dey had left, she see'd uncle Alex laying up dar half e't up\nby all dem varmints.\n\n\"She know'd dat it must be him. When she left, dem buzzards went back to\ndeir perch. First thing dey done was to lap up deir own puke befo' dey\nstarted on uncle Alex again. Yes sir, dat's de way turkey buzzards does.\nDey pukes on folks to keep dem away, and you can't go near kaise it be's\nso nasty; but dem buzzards don't waste nothing. Little young buzzards\nlooks like down till dey gits over three days old. You can go to a\nbuzzard roost and see for yourself, but you sho better stay out'n de way\nof de old buzzard's puke. Dey sets around de little ones and keeps\neverything off by puking.\n\n\"Pacolet used to be called Buzzard Roost, kaise in de old days dey had a\nrail outside de bar-room dat de drunks used to hang over and puke in a\ngully. De buzzards would stay in dat gully and lap up dem drunkards'\npuke. One night a old man went in a drunkard's sleep in de bar-room. De\nbar tender shoved him out when he got ready to close, and he rolled up\nagainst dis here rail dat I am telling you about. He 'lowed dat next\nmorning when he woke up, two buzzards was setting on his shirt front\neating up his puke. He said, 'You is too soon', and grabbed one by de\nleg and wrung his head off. But befo' he could git its head wrung off it\nhad done puked his own puke back on him. He said dat was de nastiest\nthing he ever got into, and dat he never drunk no more liquor. Dem days\nis done past and gone, and it ain't nobody hardly knows Pacolet used to\nbe called Buzzard Roost.\n\n\"Lawd have mercy, white folks! Here I is done drapped plumb off'n my\nsubject; but a old man's mind will jes' run waa'ry at times. Me and Joe,\nAlex's son, went to see de officer 'bout gitting Joe's pa buried. He\n'lowed dat Alex's body was riddled wid bullets; so we took him and put\nhis bones and a little rotten flesh dat dem buzzards had left, in de box\nwe made, and fetched it to de site and buried him. Nobody ever seed Alex\nbut me, Joe, and dat gal dat went atter dem calves. Us took shovels and\nthrow'd his bones in de box. When we got de top nailed on, we was both\nsick. Now, things like dat don't come to pass. I still thinks of de\nawful days and creeps runs all over me yet.\n\n\"All my brothers, sisters, mother and father is done gone. And I is\nlooking to leave befo' a great while. I is trying every day to git\nready, Lawd. I been making ready for years. Smart mens tries to make you\nlive on, but dey can't git above death. Tain't no use.\"\n\n\n  Source: Jesse Rice (80), Littlejohn St., Gaffney, S.C.\n  Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 1/8/38\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =FOLKLORE=\n =Spartanburg Dist. 4=\n =June 15, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I'm living on Mr. Russel Emmitt's place. I never did nothing but drive\ncows when I was a little boy growing up. Miss Cum and Miss Lizzie Rice\nwas Marse Alex's sisters. Marse Alex done died, and dey was my mistress.\nDey tuck and sold de plantation afo dey died, here 'bout twenty years\nago. Dat whar my ma found me and den she died.\n\n\"My grandparents, Jane and Peter Stevens, brung me up. I was a little\nfarm boy and driv cows fer de overseer, Jim Blalock. Miss Cum was really\nMiss Ann. Miss Ann had a hundred niggers, herself, and Miss Lizzie had\nmight nigh dat many, asides dem what Marse Alex done left 'em. De\noverseer try to act rough out o' Miss Ann's sight, and she find it out\nand set him down a peg.\n\n\"Miss Jane have our shirts made on de looms. She let us wear long shirts\nand go in our shirt tails, and us had to keep 'em clean, too, 'cause\nMiss Jane never like no dirt around her. Miss Jane have charge of de\nwhole house and everything along wid it.\n\n\"Us had three hundred hogs to tend to, two hundred yellings and heifers,\nand Lawdy knows how many sheep and goats. Us fed dem things and kept 'em\nfat. When butchering time come, us stewed out the mostest lard and we\nhad enough side-meat to supply the plantation the year round. Our wheat\nland was fertilized wid load after load of cotton seed. De wheat us\nraised was de talk of de country side. 'Sides dat, dare was rye, oats\nand barley, and I ain't said nothing 'bout de bottom corn dat laid in de\ncribs from year to year.\n\n\"Our smokehouse was allus full o' things to eat, not only fer de white\nfolks but fer de darkies as well. And our barns carried feed fer de\ncattle from harvest to harvest.\n\n\"De fattest of all de hosses, was Miss Ann's black saddle hoss called,\n'Beauty'. Miss Ann wo' de longest side-saddle dress dat hung way down\nbelow her feets. Somebody allus had to help her on and off Beauty, but\nn'ary one of her brothers could out-ride Miss Ann.\"\n\n\n  Source: Phillip Rice (75), Kelton, S.C. RFD\n  Interviewed by: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (5/7/37)\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =Stiles M. Scruggs=\n =Columbia, S.C.=\n\n=_THE POT OF GOLD._=\n\n\nMartha Richardson, who tells this story, lives at 924 Senate Street,\nColumbia, S.C. Her father was an Indian and her mother a mulatto. She\nwas born in Columbia in 1860 and was five years old, when General W.T.\nSherman's Federal troops captured and burned the city in 1865.\n\n\"When I gits big 'nough to pick up chips for de cook stove, we was\nlivin' in de rear of Daniel Gardner's home, on Main Street, and my mammy\nwas workin' as one of de cooks at de Columbia Hotel. De hotel was run by\nMaster Lowrance, where de Lorick & Lowrance store is now.\n\n\"My daddy, like de general run of Indians, love to hunt but de game not\nbring much cash in. My mammy often give him some change (money) and he\nnot work much but he always good to mammy and she love him and not fuss\nat him, much. I soon learn dat if it had not been for mammy, we wouldn't\na had much to eat and wear. We go 'long lak dat for a good while and my\nmammy have friends 'nough dat she seldom had to ask for a job.\n\n\"De game was so scarce dat my daddy sometimes make a little money a\nshowin' people how to make Indian medicine, dat was good for many\ncomplaints, how to cover deir houses, and how to kill deir hogs,\n'cordin' to de moon. He tell us many times 'bout de great Catawba\nIndians, who make all deir own medicines and kill bears and dress in\ndeir skins, after feastin' on deir flesh. He was a good talker.\n\n\"You know, I sees so much 'skimpin', to make ends meet at home, as we go\n'long dis way, dat I has never married. My mammy tell me: 'Honey, you a\npretty child. You grow up and marry a fine, lovin' man lak your daddy,\nand be happy.' I kinda smile but I thinks a lot. If my daddy had worked\nand saved lak my mammy, we would be 'way head of what we is, and my\nbrudders say so, too. But we fond of our daddy, he so good lookin' and\nall.\n\n\"What de most 'citin' thing I ever see? Well, I think de Red Shirt\ncampaign was. You never see so much talkin', fightin', and fussin' as\ndat. You know de Yankees was still here and they not 'fraid, and de\nHampton folks was not 'fraid, so it was a case of knock down and drag\nout most of de time, it seem to me. Long at de end, dere was two\ngovernors; one was in de Wallace House and one in de Capitol. Men went\n'bout town wid deir guns.\n\n\"Mammy keep busy cookin', nussin', and washin', and us chillun help. You\nknow I had two brudders older than me and a little baby brudder 'bout a\nyear old, when my mammy rent a small farm from Master Greenfield, down\nat de end of Calhoun Street, near de Broad River. We plant cotton. I was\nthen eleven years old and my brudder was twelve and thirteen. My mammy\nhelp us plant it befo' she go to work at de hotel.\n\n\"She was home washin', one day, when my brudders and me was choppin'\ncotton. We chop 'til 'bout eleven o'clock dat mornin' and we say: 'When\nwe gits out de rows to de big oak tree we'll sit down and rest.' We\nchillun lak each other and we joke and work fast 'til we comes to de end\nof de rows and in de shade of de big oak. Then we sets down, dat is, my\noldest brudder and me, 'cause my young brudder was a little behind us in\nhis choppin'. As he near de finish, his hoe hit somethin' hard and it\nring. Ha rake de dirt 'way and keep diggin', light lak.\n\n\"What you doin', brudder?' I say. He say: 'Tryin' to find out what dis\nis. It seem to be a pot lid.' Then we jump up and go to him and all of\nus grabble dirt 'way and sho' 'nough it was a pot lid and it was on a\npot. We digs it out, thinkin' it would be a good thing to take home. It\nwas so heavy, it take us all to lift it out.\n\n\"It was no sooner out than we takes off de lid and we is sho' s'prised\nat what we see. Big silver dollars lay all over de top. We takes two of\nthem and drops them together and they ring just lak we hear them ring on\nde counters. Then we grabble in de pot for more. De silver went down\n'bout two inches deep. Twenty dollar gold pieces run down 'bout four\ninches or so and de whole bottom was full of big bundles of twenty\ndollar greenbacks.\n\n\"We walks up to de house feelin' pretty big and my oldest brudder was\nsingin':\n\n    'Hawk and buzzard went to law,\n    Hawk come back wid a broken jaw.'\n\n\"Mammy say widout lookin' at us: 'What you all comin' to dinner so soon\nfor?' Then she looked up and see de pot and say: 'Land sakes, what you\nall got?' Then we puts de big pot down in de middle of de floor and\ntakes off de lid, and mammy say: 'Oh! Let's see what we has!' She begin\nto empty de pot and to count de money. She tell us to watch de door and\nsee dat nobody got in, 'cause she not at home!\n\n\"She say de money 'mount to $5,700, and she swear us not to say nothin'\n'bout findin' it. She would see what she could find out 'bout it. Weeks\nafter dat, she tell us a big white friend tell her he hear a friend of\nhis buried some money and went to war widout tellin' anybody where it\nwas. Maybe he was killed and dat all we ever hear.\n\n\"My mammy kept it and we all work on just de same and she buy these two\nlots on Senate Street. She build de two-story house here at 924, where\nyou sittin' now, and de cottage nex' door. She always had rent money\ncomin' in ever since. By and by she die, after my Indian pappy go 'way\nand never come back. Then all de chillun die, 'ceptin' me.\n\n\"I am so happy dat I is able to spend my old days in a sort of ease,\nafter strugglin' most of my young life and gittin' no learnin' at\nschool, dat I sometimes sing my mammy's old song, runnin' somethin' lak\ndis:\n\n    'Possum up de simmon tree\n    Sparrow on de ground\n    'Possum throw de 'simmons down\n    Sparrow shake them 'round'.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project#-1655=\n =Phoebe Faucette=\n =Hampton County=\n\n =Approx. 416 words=\n\n=MAMIE RILEY=\n\n=Ex-Slave=\n\n\n\"Aunt Mamie's\" hair is entirely white. She lives in a neat duplex brick\nhouse with one of her husband's relatives, a younger woman who is a cook\nfor a well established family in Estill, S.C. When questioned about the\ntimes before the war, she replied:\n\n\"Yes'm, I kin tell you 'bout slav'ry time, 'cause I is one myself. I\ndon' remember how old I is. But I remember when de Yankees come through\nI bin 'bout so high. (She put her hand out about 3-1/2 feet from the\nfloor.) We lived on Mr. Henry Solomons' place--a big place. Mr. Henry\nSolomons had a plenty of people--three rows of house, or four.\n\n\"When de Yankees come through Mr. Solomons' place I wuz right dere. We\nwuz at our house in de street. I see it all. My ma tell me to run; but I\nain't think they'd hurt me. I see 'em come down de street--all of 'em on\nhorses. Oo--h, dey wuz a heap of 'em! I couldn't count 'em. My daddy run\nto de woods--he an' de other men. Dey ran right to de graveyard. Too\nmucha bush been dere. You couldn't see 'em. Stay in de woods three days.\n\n\"Dey went to my daddy's house an' take all. My daddy ran. My mother an'\nmy older sister wuz dere. My ma grab a quilt off de bed an' cover\nherself all over wid it--head an' all. And set in a chair dere by de\nfire. She tell us to git in de bed--but I ain't git in. And she yell out\nwhen she hear 'em comin': 'Dere's de fever in heah!' Six of 'em come to\nde door; but dey say dey ain't goin' in--dey'll catch de fever. Den some\nmore come along. Dey say dey gwine in. Dey ain't gwine to take no fever.\nFill two sack of 'tatoes. White man ask to search all trunk. Dey take\ntwo of me Ma's good dresses out. Say to wrap 'tatoes in. I start to\ncryin' den, an' dey say, 'Well, git us some sacks den.' I knowed where\nsome sacks wuz. I git 'em de sacks. Dey do 'em right. Dey bid 'em\ngoodbye, an' ax 'em where de man wuz. Dey give me 'leven or twelve\ndollars. I wuz little an' ain't know. My mother never give it to me.\n\n\"I stay right on dere after freedom, until after I married.\"\n\n  Source: Mamie Riley, Negro about 80 years old, Estill, 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 near Broad River in de Dutch Fork of Newberry County. I was\na slave of Cage Suber. He was a fair master, but nothing to brag about.\nI was small at slavery time and had to work in de white folks' house or\naround the house until I was big enough to go to de field and work.\n\n\"Old Marse Cage always made me fan flies off of him when he lay down to\ntake a nap. The fan was made out of brushes.\n\n\"De white folks had cotton-pickings, corn-shuckings and quiltings. Dey\nallus had something to eat at the frolics and I had to help wid 'em.\n\n\"I married John Riser. I moved to town several years ago.\"\n\n\n  Source: Susie Riser (80), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C., May 17, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =Henry Grant,=\n =Columbia, S.C.=\n\n=ISOM ROBERTS=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 80 YEARS OLD_=\n\n\nIsom Roberts rents one room at 1226 Waverly Street, Columbia, S.C., and\nlives alone. However frail he appears, he is able to support himself by\nworking in the yards about the city.\n\n\"Well, sir, white folks, I is eighty years old, or leastwise I is so\nclose to it, dat it don't make much difference. But even if I is dat\nold, it don't seem so long since I was a little boy. Years flies by\nmighty fas' to old folks, 'cause deir 'memberance is shorter, while\nyoung folks 'members everything, and in dat way months and years drags\n'long slower to them.\n\n\"I was a very small boy when de Civil War was gwine on. It seems like I\nknows all 'bout Sherman's army comin' through dis State, a burnin'\nColumbia and destroyin' and takin' away everything what folks had. I has\nheard so much 'bout slavery and all them times, from my mammy and daddy,\ndat it 'pears to me dat I 'sperienced it all. I 'spects knowin' 'bout\nthings is just 'bout as good and true as seein' them. Don't you?\n\n\"My daddy and mammy b'long to Marster Sam Louie, who had a big\nplantation over in Calhoun County. He had 'bout fifty or more grown\nslaves, 'sides many chillun of de slaves. Old marster was a good farmer;\nraised big crops and saved what he made. He sho' was a fine business man\nbut he was mighty hard on everybody he had anything to do wid. He told\nhis slaves to work hard and make him a heap of money and that he would\nkeep it, in case of hard times. Times was all de time hard wid old\nmarster but de niggers never got no money. When news spread 'round dat\nde Yankees was comin' to free de niggers, he called all de slaves up in\nde yard and showed them a big sack of money, what they had made for\nhim, and told them dat he was gwine to kill all of them befo' de Yankees\nset them free and that they wouldn't need no money after they was done\ndead. All de slaves was mighty sad and troubled, all dat day, when old\nmarster made dat speech to them. But somethin' happened. It most makes\nme tremble to talk to you 'bout it now. Providence, or some kind of\nmercy spirit, was sho' walkin' 'round dat plantation dat night. Sometime\nin de night it was whispered 'round amongst de slaves dat old marster\ndone took de smallpoxes and was mighty sick. Mammy said he must have\nbeen terrible sick, 'cause they buried him two days after dat.\n\n\"After old marster flew away, everything was different on de plantation.\nMiss Nancy, dat was old marster's wife, told de slaves dat when de\nYankees freed them, they could stay right there and work on shares or by\nthe day, which ever way they wanted. Many stayed on de plantation after\nfreedom while others went away. Me and my folks stayed on wid Miss Nancy\nuntil she die. Then us moved on another plantation in de lower side of\nde county. I stayed dere until my wife died, seventeen years ago.\n\n\"Does I 'member anything 'bout how de slaves was treated in slavery\ntime? Well, I 'members a little myself and a heap of what others told\nme. Wid dis I has done told you, I believes I want to stop right dere. A\nlow fence is easier to git over than a high one. Say little and you\nain't gwine to have a heap to 'splain hereafter. Dere is a plenty of\npersons dat has lost deir heads by not lettin' deir tongues rest.\nMarster Sam Louie is dead now. He can't disturb nobody in his grave. He\nhad his faults and done many things wrong but show me dat person what\ndon't mis-step sometimes. All of us, both white and black, is prone to\nstep aside now and then. To tell de truth, old marster never knowed what\nSunday was. Everybody on de plantation worked on dat day as same as any\nother day.\n\n\"But Boss, if my old marster was rough and hard and break de Sabbath and\nall dat, he was no worser than what young white folks and niggers is\ndese days. You can see them any time, floppin' 'bout in dese\nautomobiles, a drinkin' and a carryin' on. Sich stuff is abomination in\nde sight of a decent person, much less dat One up yonder. (He pointed\nupward).\n\n\"I's gwine to tell you boss, dat slavery time was better for de average\nnigger than what they is gittin' now. Folks say dat slavery was wrong\nand I 'spose it was, but to be poor like a heap of niggers is now, is de\nworse thing dat has ever come upon them, I thinks. Dis gittin' something\nwrong, ain't right. De North had no business sellin' niggers to de South\nand de South had no business buyin' them from de North and makin' slaves\nof them. Everything went on pretty nice for awhile, then de North got\njealous of de South and de South got 'spicious of de North. I believes\ndat if you can't go over and you can't go under, then you should try to\ngo 'round. If de big men up North and here in de South had been good\n'nough and smart 'nough, they might could a gone 'round dat terrible\nCivil War. I believes dat.\n\n\"I marry Lucy Nelson when I was 'bout thirty years old. She was a bright\nskin nigger, much brighter than I is. She was high tempered and high\nspirited, too. She was sho' smart, and de best cook I has ever seen.\nJust plain corn bread, dat she cooked in de hot ashes of de fireplace,\ntaste sweeter and better than de cake you buy now. But de least thing\nwould git her temper 'roused. I has knowed her to complain wid de old\nhound dog us had, 'cause he didn't run some rabbits out de woods for me\nto shoot. Fuss wid de cats, 'cause they didn't ketch de mouses in de\nhouse. Quarrel wid de hens, 'cause they eat, cackled, scratched and\nwallowed holes in de yard and wouldn't lay. Told de old rooster many\ntimes dat she was gwine to chop his head off if he didn't crow sooner\nand louder of mornin's and wake me up so I could go to work. All dis\nsounds foolish I knows but you see how bent my back is. Well, I 'spects\nit was bent from totin' so many buckets of water from de spring for her\nto wash wid soon of mornin's, so I could then do a day's work.\n\n\"My wife thought she was doin' right by workin' like she did. She\nthought dat she was helpin' me make a livin' for our big family of eight\nchillun. Yes sir, I knows now she was right, but hard work broke her\nhealth and brought her to her bed where she lingered 'bout one year and\nthen she went away from me. All dis took place seventeen years ago and,\nfrom then to dis, I ain't seen no woman I would have for a wife, 'cause\nI ain't gwine to find no woman Lucy's equal. All my chillun are dead,\n'cept two, and I don't know where they is.\n\n\"Does poor folks have any blessings and pleasure? Well, yes sir, in a\nway. You see they don't have no worriments over what they has, like rich\nfolks. They can sleep as hot as they want to in de summer time and raise\nas big families as anybody. Sho', poor folks, and especially niggers,\nhas a good time on hog-killin' days. In early summer come them juicy\nbrierberries dat they enjoy so much. They last until watermelon season.\nThen they has 'possum and 'tators in de fall. Most all livin' beings has\ndeir own way of doin' things and deir way of existin'. De hog roots for\nhis, de squirrel climbs for his, de chickens scratches for deirs, and de\nnigger, well, if dere ain't nobody lookin', I reckon they could slip\ndeirs right handy.\n\n\"I sho' has enjoyed talkin' to you dis evening and now, if you will\n'scuse me, I's gwine home and cook me a pot of turnips. I can almost\ntaste them now, I is so hungry.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=ALEXANDER ROBERTSON=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 84 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nAlexander Robertson lives as a member of the household of his son,\nCharley, on the General Bratton plantation, four miles southeast of\nWhite Oak, S.C. It is a box-like house, chimney in the center, four\nrooms, a porch in front and morning glory vines, in bloom at this\nseason, climbing around the sides and supports. Does Alexander sit here\nin the autumn sunshine and while the hours away? Nay, in fact he is\nstill one of the active, working members of the family, ever in the\nfields with his grandchildren, poke around his neck, extracting fleecy\ncotton from the bolls and putting it deftly into the poke. He can carry\nhis row equally as well as any of the six grandchildren. He has a good\nappetite at meal time, digestive organs good, sleeps well, and is the\nearly riser in the mornings. He says the Negro half of his nature\nobjects to working on Saturday afternoon, and at such times his tall\nfigure, with a green patch cloth over the left eye, which is sightless,\nmay be seen strolling to and fro on the streets of Winnsboro.\n\n\"Well, well! If it ain't de youngun dat use to sell me sugar, coffee,\nfat back and meal, when he clerk for Calvin Brice & Company, at\nWoodward, in '84 and 'long dere.\n\n\"I hopes you is well dis mornin'. I's told to come to Winnsboro and gits\nblanks for a pension. Andy Foster, man I knows, d'rect me up dese steps\nand bless God I finds you. You wanna ask me some questions? Well, here I\nis, more than glad to answer, if I can. Where I born? Strange as it\nseems, I born right here in Winnsboro. My name set down in a book:\n'Alexander-boy-mother, Hannah, wench of James Stewart'. Dat de way it\nwas read to me by Dr. Beaty, dat marry a Miss Cherry and live in Rock\nHill. If slavery had never been done 'way wid, dat would be my master\ntoday, 'cause him lak hound dogs and I lak a hound dog. Dat kind of\nbreed got a good nose and make good 'possum dog. Marster Jim tell me one\ntime, dat de first dog sprung from a wolf, and dat fust dog was a hound\ndog. Dat out dat fust dog, (must to a been a bitch, don't you reckon?)\ncome all dogs. I follow his talk wid belief, 'bout de setters, pointers,\nand blood hounds, even to de fices, but it strain dat belief when it git\nto de little useless hairy pup de ladies lead 'round wid a silver collar\nand a shiney chain. Well, you don't care to hear anymore 'bout dat? What\nis de question?\n\n\"My master at de fust, was Marster Jim Stewart and my mistress was his\nwife, Mistress Clara. They have two chillun. I 'member Marster Jim and\nMiss Lizzie; they live in a fine house befo' de war, 'round yonder close\nto Mt. Zion College. My mother was de cook and I was de house boy. They\nhad a big plantation 'bout two miles out, sorta southwest of Boro, I\nmean Winnsboro, of course, but de country people still call it Boro.\n\n\"On dat plantation was many two-room houses, brick chimneys in de\nmiddle, for de plantation slaves. In de growin' season I go wid marster\nevery day, not to drive, too small for dat, just to hold de hoss, when\nhim git out and then I run errands for him, 'round de house and in de\nfields.\n\n\"My mother had another child, Willie Finch. A colored man name of Finch\nis his father but her and de white folks never tell me who my father\nwas. I have to find out dat for myself, after freedom, when I was\nlookin' 'round for a name. From all I hear and 'pear in de lookin'\nglass, I see I was half white for sure, and from de things I hear, I\nconclude I was a Robertson which have never been denied. Maybe it best\njust to give no front names. Though half a nigger, I have tried to live\nup to dat name, never took it in dat court house over yonder, never\ntook it in dat jail or dat calaboose. I's paid my debts dollar for\ndollar and owe no man nothin' but good will.\n\n\"What de Yankees do when they come? Let other people tell dat, but seem\nlak they lay de whole town in ashes, 'cept de college and our house\nclose to it, dat they use for de officers while they was in Boro. Why\nthey hear sumpin' bout de Davis name techin' de St. John 'Piscopal\nChurch and they march 'round dere, one cold February Sunday mornin', set\nit afire, and burn it up. Mother and me went to de plantation and stayed\ndere 'til they left.\n\n\"When freedom come, I was twelve years old. Mother marry a Finch; Bill\nwas de name of him. Our nex' move was to Dr. Madden's place, just north\nof Boro. Us farm up dere and I do de hoein'. I live dere thirteen years.\nI got to feelin' my oats and tired of workin' for a plum black nigger, I\ndid. Maybe I ought to been more humble but I wasn't.\n\n\"I ask myself one night: 'What you gonna do, stay here forever for your\nvittles and clothes?' Then come over my mind I old 'nough for to marry.\nWho I gwine to marry? It pop right in dis head, Sarah was de gal for me.\nI rode old Beck down dere de nex' Sunday; dat was in December. I come\nright to de point wid her and de old folks. They 'low they have no\nobjections if I could take care of her. I say I try to. They say: 'Dat\nain't 'nough, 'range yourself for another year and then come and git\nher'.\n\n\"De Lord directs me. I's down here payin' my poll, too. Marster Tom\nShanty Brice come in as us come out. I ask him if he need a hand for\nnex' year. He look me up from top to bottom and say: 'What's your name?'\nI show him my tax receipt. He hire me than and dere. I go right straight\nto Sarah and us tell de old folks. Rev. Gordon marry us de 29th of\nJanuary, 1879. Us has seven chillun. Alex, dat's de one name for me, is\nin Tampa, Florida. Carrie marry a Coleman and is in Charlotte, N.C.\nJimmie is dead. Thomas is in Charleston, S.C. Emma marry a Belton and\nlives wid her husband in Ridgeway, S.C. I stay wid my son, Charley, up\nde country.\n\n\"I voted one time in 1876, for Gov. Chamberlain, but when I moved to\nMarster Tom Brice's I thought so much of him, I just quit voting. I\nwould lak to vote one more time to say: 'I have vote one time wid de\nblack part of my nature, dis time I votes wid de white side of my\nnature.' What you laughin' 'bout? If it was de call of dark blood de\nfust time, maybe it's de call of de white blood dis time. You have no\nidea de worry and de pain a mulatto have to carry all his eighty-four\nyears. Forced to 'sociate wid one side, proud to be related to de other\nside. Neither side lak de color of your skin. I jine de Methodist church\nhere in Boro and 'tend often as I can and as I hear my preacher Owens\npreach, dat dere will be no sex in hebben, I hopes and prays dat dere'll\nbe no sich thing as a color line in hebben.\n\n\"Who de best white men I ever know? Mr. Tom Brice, Mr. W.L. Rosborough,\nMr. Watt Sinonton, and Mr. August Nicholson. Master Bill Beaty, dat\nmarry my young mistress, Elizabeth, was a fine man.\n\n\"What I think of Abe Lincoln? What I think of Mr. Roosevelt? Dere de\ncolor come up again. De black say Mr. Lincoln de best President us ever\nhave; de white say us never have had and never will have a President\nequal of Mr. Roosevelt.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=CHARLIE ROBINSON=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nCharlie Robinson lives nine miles northwest of Winnsboro, S.C., on lands\nof Mr. R.W. Lemmon. There is one other occupant in the four-room house,\nJohn Giles, a share cropper. The house has two fireplaces, the brick\nchimney being constructed in the center of the two main rooms. The other\ntwo rooms are shed rooms. Charlie ekes out a living as a day laborer on\nthe farm.\n\n\"They been tellin' me to come to de social circle and see 'bout my\npension but I never is got dere. It been so hot, I hate to hotfoot it\nnine miles to Winnsboro and huff dat same distance back on a hot summer\nday.\n\n\"Glad you come out here but sorry of de day, 'cause it is a Friday and\nall de jay-birds go to see de devil dat day of de week. It's a bad day\nto begin a garment, or quilt or start de lye hopper or 'simmon beer keg\nor just anything important to yourself on dat day. Dere is just one good\nFriday in de year and de others is given over to de devil, his imps, and\nde jay-birds. Does I believe all dat? I believes it 'nough not to patch\ndese old breeches 'til tomorrow and not start my 'simmon beer, when de\nfrost fall on them dis fall, on a Friday.\n\n\"You wants me to set down so you can ask me sumpin'? I'll do dat! Of\ncourse I will! (He proceeded to do so--wiping his nose on his sleeve and\nsprawling down on the doorsill). My pappy name George, black George they\ncall him in slavery time, 'cause dere was a small yallow slave on de\nplace, named George. My mammy name Ca'line. My pappy b'long to de\nMcNeals and my mammy b'long to Marse Joe Beard. His wife was my\nmistress. Her name Miss Gracie. 'Nitials? Dat sumpin' not in my lingo,\nBoss. You want to know what my pappy's old marster name? Seem to me they\ncall him Marse Gene, though it been so long I done forgot. When my\nmarster went to de war him got a ball through his leg. Bad treatment of\ndat leg give him a limp for de balance of his days. White folks call him\n'Hoppin' Joe Beard' and sometime 'Lopin' Joe'.\n\n\"Marster and mistress have two chillun. I play marbles wid them and make\nmud pies. Deir names was Marse Willie and Miss Rhoda.\n\n\"My brudders and sisters was Jeff, Roland, Jane and Fannie. All dead\n'cept Fannie. Her marry a big, long nigger name Saul Griffin. Last I\nheard of them, they was livin' in Columbia, S.C.\n\n\"I start workin' in de field de second year of de war, 1862. It sho'\nmade me hungry. I 'members now, how I'd git a big tin cupful of pot\nliquor from de greens, crumble corn bread in it at dinner time and 'joy\nit as de bestest part of de dinner. Us no suffer for sumpin' to eat. I\ngo all summer in my shirt-tail and in de winter I have to do de best I\ncan, widout any shoes. Ever since then, I just lak to go barefooted as\nyou sees me now.\n\n\"My pappy git a pass and come to see mammy every Saturday night. My\nmarster had just four slave houses on de place. 'Spect him have 'bout\neight women, dat men come from other places to see and marry them and\nhave chillun. I doesn't 'member nary one of de women havin' a husband\nlivin' wid her every night.\n\n\"Who do de plowin'? Women and boys do de plowin'. Had good 'nough\nhouses, though they was made of logs, 'cup and saddled' at both ends,\nand covered wid white oak board shingles. Had stick and mud chimneys.\n\n\"De Yankees made a clean sweep of everything, hosses, mules, cows, hogs,\nmeat and 'lasses. Got so mad when they couldn't find any salt, they burn\nup everything. Pull Marse Joe's beard, just 'cause him name Beard. De\none dat do dat was just a smart aleck and de cap'n of de crowd shame\nhim and make him slink 'way, out de house.\n\n\"When freedom come, Marse Joe stay one year, then leave. Sell out and\nmove to Walhalla and us move to pappy on de McNeal place. Dat year us\nall jined de church, Union Church. I now b'longs to New Hope Methodist\nChurch. Us nex' move to Mr. Bill Crawford's place. Mr. Crawford got to\nbe school commissioner on de 'publican ticket and white folks call him\nscalawag. Him have pappy and all de colored folks go to de 'lection box\nand vote. Ku Klux come dere one night and whip every nigger man they\ncould lay deir hands on. Things quiet down then but us no more go to de\n'lection box and vote.\n\n\"'Bout dis time thoughts of de gals got in my head and feets at de same\ntime. I was buyin' a biled shirt and celluloid collar, in Mr. Sailing\nWolf's store, one Saturday, and in walked Ceily Johnson. I commence to\ncourt her right then and dere, befo' I ever git inside dat shirt and\ncollar. Her have dark skin and was good to look at, I tell you. I\nde-sash-shay 'bout dat gal, lak a chicken rooster spread his wing 'round\na pretty black pullet, 'til I wear out her indifference and her make me\nhappy by marryin' me. Her was too good lookin' and too bad doin',\nthough, for me. She left by de light of de moon when us was livin' on de\nCummings place, 'bove town. Excuse me now, dat's still a fresh subject\nof torment to me. Let's talk 'bout chances of gittin' dat pension, when\nI can git another clean white shirt, lay 'round de white folks again,\nand git dis belly full of pot liquor.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon.=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=AL ROSBORO=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 90 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nAl Rosboro, with his second wife, Julia, a daughter, and six small\ngrandchildren, lives in a three-room frame house, three hundred yards\neast of the Southern Railway track and US #21, about two miles south of\nWoodward, S.C., in Fairfield County. Mr. Brice gives the plot of ground,\nfour acres with the house, to Al, rent free. A white man, Mr. W.L.\nHarvey does the ploughing of the patches for him. Al has cataracts on\nhis eyes and can do no work. Since this story was written he has\nreceived his first old age pension check of eight dollars from the\nSocial Welfare Board in Columbia, S.C.\n\n\"Does I know what a nonagenarian is? No seh, what dat? Old folks? Well,\ndats a mighty long name and I been here a mighty long time. Glad you say\nit's a honor and a privilege by de mercy of de Lord. I's thankful! You\nwants to know where I was born and who my white folks then?\n\n\"I was born just one and a half mile b'low White Oak, S.C., on de old\nMarse Billie Brice place. My pappy b'long to old Miss Jennie Rosboro,\nbut mammy b'long to Marse William Brice. Her name Ann. My old mistress\nname Mary, daughter of de Simontons, on Dumpers Creek.\n\n\"You wants de fust thing I 'members, then travel 'long de years 'til I\ncome to settin' right here in dis chair. Well, reckon us git through\ntoday? Take a powerful sight of dat pencil to put it all down.\n\n\"Let me see. Fust thing I 'members well, was a big crowd wid picks and\nshovels, a buildin' de railroad track right out de other side of de big\nroad in front of old marster's house. De same railroad dat is dere\ntoday. When de fust engine come through, puffin' and tootin', lak to\nscare 'most everybody to death. People got use to it but de mules and\nbosses of old marster seem lak they never did. A train of cars a movin'\n'long is still de grandest sight to my eyes in de world. Excite me more\nnow than greyhound busses, or airplanes in de sky ever do.\n\n\"I nex' 'members my young misses and young marsters. Dere was Marse\nJohn; he was kilt in de war. Marse Jim, dat went to de war, come back,\nmarry, and live right here in Winnsboro. Marse Jim got a grandson dat am\nin de army a sailin' air-ships. Then dere was Marse William; he moved\noff. One of de gals marry a Robertson, I can't 'member her name, tho' I\nhelp her to make mud pies many a day and put them on de chicken coop, in\nde sun, to dry. Her had two dolls; deir names was Dorcas and Priscilla.\nWhen de pies got dry, she'd take them under de big oak tree, fetch out\nde dolls and talk a whole lot of child mother talk 'bout de pies, to de\nDorcas and Priscilla rag dolls. It was big fun for her tho' and I can\nhear her laugh right now lak she did when she mince 'round over them\ndolls and pies. Dere was some poor folks livin' close by and she'd send\nme over to 'vite deir chillun over to play wid her. They was name\nMarshall. Say they come from Virginny and was kin to de highest judge in\nde land. They was poor but they was proud. Mistress felt sorry for them\nbut they wouldn't 'cept any help from her.\n\n\"Well, when I git twelve years old, marster give me to his son, Marse\nCalvin, and give Marse Calvin a plantation dat his son, Homer, live on\nnow. I 'member now old marster's overseer comin' to de field; his name\nwas McElduff. Him say: 'Al, Marse William say come to de house'. I goes\ndere on de run. When I git dere, him 'low: 'Calvin, I wants you to take\nAl, I give him to you. Al, you take good care of your young marster'. I\nalways did and if Marse Calvin was livin' he'd tell you de same.\n\n\"I forgit to tell you one thing dat happen down dere befo' I left. Dere\nwas a powerful rich family down dere name Cockrell; I forgits de fust\nname. Him brudder tho', was sheriff and live in Winnsboro. Dere was a\nrich Mobley family dat live jinin' him, two miles sunrise side of him.\nOne day de Cockrell cows got out and played thunder wid Mr. Mobley's\ncorn. Mr. Mobley kilt two of de cows. Dat made de Cockrells mad. They\ntoo proud to go to law 'bout it; they just bide deir time. One day Marse\nEd Mobley's mules got out, come gallopin' 'round and stop in de Cockrell\nwheat field. Him take his rifle and kill two of them mules. Dat made Mr.\nMobley mad but him too proud to go to law 'bout it. De Mobley's just\nbide deir time. 'Lection come 'round for sheriff nex' summer. No\nCockrell was 'lected sheriff dat time. You ask Mr. Hugh Wylie 'bout dat\nnex' time him come to de Boro. Him tell you all 'bout it.\n\n\"Dat call to my mind another big man, dat live 'bove White Oak then,\nMarse Gregg Cameron. He was powerful rich, wid many slaves. Him lak to\nbar-room and drink. Him come by marster's house one day, fell off his\nhoss and de hoss gallop on up de road. Dat was de fust drunk man I ever\nsee. Marster didn't know what to do; him come into de house and ask\nMistress Mary. Him tell her him didn't want to scandal de chillun. She\nsay: 'What would de good Samaritan do?' Old marster go back, fetch dat\ngroanin', cussin', old man and put him to bed, bathe his head, make Sam,\nde driver, hitch up de buggy, make West go wid him, and take Marse Gregg\nhome. I never see or hear tell of dat white man anymore, 'til one day\nafter freedom when I come down here to Robinson's Circus. Him drop dead\ndat day at de parade, when de steam piano come 'long a tootin'. 'Spect\nde 'citement, steam, and tootin', was too much for him.\n\n\"Niggers never learn to read and write. It was 'ginst de law. White\nfolks fear they would write deir passes and git 'way to de free states.\n\n\"Us slaves 'tend Concord Church, tho' Marse Calvin jine de Seceders and\n'tend New Hope. Why us go to Concord? 'Cause it too far to walk to New\nHope and not too far to walk to Concord. Us have not 'nough mules for\nall to ride, and then de mules need a rest. I now b'longs to Bethany\nPresbyterian Church at White Oak. Yes sah, I thinks everybody ought to\njine de church for it's de railroad train to git to hebben on.\n\n\"Marse Calvin went to de war. Him got shot thru de hand. Yankees come\nand burn up everything him have. Wheeler's men just as bad.\n\n\"After freedom I got mannish. Wid not a drop of blood in me but de pure\nAfrican, I sets out to find a mate of de pure breed. 'Bout de onliest\nplace I could find one of dis hatchin', was de Gaillard quarter. I marry\nGabrielle. Live fust years at de Walt Brice McCullough place, then move\nto de Vinson place, then to de preacher Erwin place. Dat was a fine\npreacher, him pastor for Concord. Him lak to swap hosses. When him come\ndown out de pulpit him looks 'round, see a hoss him lak, soon as not him\ngo home to dinner wid de owner of dat hoss. After dinner him say: 'If it\nwasn't de Sabbath, how would you trade dat hoss for my hoss?' More words\npass between them, just supposin' all de time it was Monday. Then Mr.\nErwin ride back dere nex' day and come back wid de hoss him took a fancy\nfor.\n\n\"Mr. Erwin move when he git a call to Texas. I moves to de Bob Sinonton\nplace. From dere I goes to de Jim Brice place, now owned by young Marse\nJames Brice. I been dere 32 years. Gabrielle and me generate thirteen\nchillun, full blooded natural born Africans, seven boys and six gals.\nThen Gabrielle die and I marry Julia Jenkins. Us have five chillun, one\nboy and four gals. I's done a heap for my country. I wants Mr. Roosevelt\nto hear 'bout dat; then maybe him make de country do sumpin' for me.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=TOM ROSBORO=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 79 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nTom Rosboro lives with his daughter, Estelle Perry, in a three-room\nframe house, on Cemetery Street, Winnsboro, S.C. The house stands on a\nhalf-acre plot that is used for garden truck. Estelle owns the fee in\nthe house and lot. Tom peddles the truck, eggs, and chickens, in the\ntown and the suburban Winnsboro mill village.\n\n\"My pappy was name Tom, just lak I is name Tom. My mammy was name Sarah\nbut they didn't b'long to de same marster. Pappy b'long to old Marse\nEugene McNaul. Mammy b'long to old Marse John Propst. De ownership of de\nchild followed de mammy in them days. Dat throwed me to be a slave of\nold Marse John Propst.\n\n\"My young marsters was name Marse Johnnie, Marse Clark, Marse Floyd, and\nMarse Wyatt. I had two young misses. Miss Elizabeth marry a McElroy and\nMiss Mamie marry a Landecker. You know Marse Ernest Propst dat run dat\nladies' garment store and is a member of de Winnsboro Town Council? Yes?\nWell, dat is one of Marse Floyd Propst chillun.\n\n\"I hear mammy say dat daddy's mistress was name Miss Emma but her\nmistress and my mistress was name Miss Margaret. My daddy have to have a\npass every time he come to see mammy. Sometime they give him a general\npass for de year. Sometime him lose de pass and then such a gwine on you\nnever did see de lak. Make more miration (hullabaloo) over it than if\nthey had lost one of de chillun. They was scared de patarollers\n(patrollers) would come ketch him, and lay de leather whip on his naked\nback. He wouldn't dare stay long. Him would go back soon, not on de big\nroad but through de woods and fields, so as not to meet de patarollers.\n\n\"Who was my brothers and sisters and where is they? Brother Ben and\nSister Mamie is dead and in glory. Dat's all de chillun mammy had a\nchance to have, 'cause she was a good woman and would never pay any\n'tention to de men slaves on de Propst place. Her was faithful to pappy\nthrough thick and thin, whichever it be.\n\n\"I doesn't 'member much 'bout de Yankees, though I does 'members de Ku\nKlux. They visit pappy's house after freedom, shake him, and threaten\ndat, if him didn't quit listenin' to them low-down white trash scalawags\nand carpetbaggers, they would come back and whale de devil out of him,\nand dat de Klan would take notice of him on 'lection day.\n\n\"When I was 'bout seventeen years old, I come to de Boro (Winnsboro) one\nSaturday evenin' and seen a tall willowy gal, black she was but shiny,\nputtin' them foots of her'n down on de pavement in a pretty gamecock\npullet kind of way, as if to say: 'Roosters look at me.' I goes over to\nMr. Landecker's store, de Mr. Landecker dat marry Miss Mamie Propst, and\nI begs him to give me a cigar. I lights dat cigar and puts out after\nher. I ketches up wid her just as she was comin' out of Mr. Sailing\nWolfe's Jew store. I brush up 'ginst her and say: 'Excuse me lady.' Her\nsay: 'I grants your pardon, Mister. I 'spects smoke got in your eyes and\nyou didn't see me.' I say: 'Well, de smoke is out of my eyes now and\nthey will never have sight for any other gal but you as long as I live.'\nBlack as she was, her got red in de face and say: 'Who is you?' I say:\n'Tom Rosboro. What might be your name, lovely gal?' Her say: 'My name is\nMattie Nelson.' I say: 'Please to meet you, Sugar Plum.' Her say: 'I\nlive down at Simpson's Turnout. Glad to have you come down to see me\nsometime.' After dat us kep' a meetin' in Winnsboro, every Saturday,\n'til one day us went 'round to Judge Jno. J. Neils' law office and him\nmarried us. Me and Mat have our trials and tribulations and has went up\nand down de hills in all kind of weather. Us never ceased to bless dat\nday dat I run into her at Mr. Sailing Wolfe's store.\n\n\"How come I name Rosboro? I just picked it up as a mighty pretty name.\nSound better than Propst or McNaul and de Rosboro white folks was big\nbuckra in dat time.\n\n\"Us had lots of chillun; raise some and lost some. I have a son,\nCharlie, dat's a barber in Washington, D.C. Lucy, a daughter, marry Tank\nHill. Nan marry Banks Smith. Estelle marry Jim Perry but her is a widow\nnow. Her bought a house and lot wid de insurance money from Dr. McCants.\nShe has a nice house on Cemetery Street, wid water and 'lectric lights.\nHer got four chillun. When my wife die, two years ago, I move in wid\nEstelle and her four chillun. Her make money by washin' and ironin' for\nde white folks. Me and de chillun picks cotton and 'tends to de makin'\nand de peddlin' of garden truck and sich lak. Ah, us is a happy family\nbut I ain't 'bove usin' some of dat old age pension money, if I can git\nit.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n =INTERVIEW WITH\n REUBEN ROSBOROUGH, RIDGEWAY, S.C.=,\n =_EX-SLAVE--82 YEARS, 3 MONTHS OLD_=\n\n\n\"No sir, I can 'member nothin' 'bout de State of Verginny, where pappy\nsaid us was born. He told me, when I was 'bout two years old he and\nmammy Kitty was took from somewhar in dat state to Richmond, wid de\nunderstandin' to sell us as a family, and to give a man name Johnson, de\npreference. He say de trader couldn't find de man Johnson, and sold us\nto my marster, John Rosborough. My pappy name William, my brothers, Tom\nand Willie and my sisters, Mary and Alice.\n\n\"My marster was a kind and tender man to slaves. You see a man love\nhosses and animals? Well, dat's de way he love us, though maybe in\nbigger portion, I 'low. Marster John never marry. Set down dere dat he\nwas good enough to buy my old gran' mammy Mary, though she never could\ndo much work.\n\n\"Us knowed dat our gran'pappy was a white man back in Verginny, but dat\nwas her secret, dat she kept locked in her breast and carried it wid her\nto de grave. You say I's very light color myself? So I is, so was she,\nso was pappy. Ease your mind, us had none of de white Rosborough in us.\nUs come on one side from de F.F.V's. I's proud of dat, and you can put\ndown dere dat deres no poor white trash blood in dese old veins, too.\n\n\"De last part of de war I worked some in de field, but not enough to\nhurt. My Marster was a Presbyterian, b'longed to Aimwell Church. Two or\nthree acres in cemetery dere now, but they done move de church into de\ntown of Ridgeway.\n\n\"Money was not worshipped then like it is now. Not much use of it.\nMarster raised all we eat and made all we wear right dere on de place,\n'bout five miles north of Ridgeway.\n\n\"I guess Marster John had forty slaves. Us live in two-story log house\nwid plank floor. Marster John die, us 'scend to his brother Robert and\nhis wife Mistress Mary. I played wid her chillun. Logan was one and\nJanie the other. My marster and mistress was good to me. I use to drive\nde mules to de cotton gin. All I had to do was to set on de long beam\nand crack my whip every now and then, and de mules would go 'round and\n'round. Dere was three hundred and seventy-six acres in dat place. I own\npart of it today. I b'longs to Good Hope Church. I sure believes in de\nLord, and dat His mercies is from everlastin' to everlastin' to them dat\nfears Him.\n\n\"'Member but little 'bout de war for freedom, 'cept dat some of de\nslaves of marster was sent to de front to use pick and shovel to throw\nup breast works, and things of dat nature. My pappy was de foreman and\nstayed at home, carry on whilst Marster Robert go.\n\n\"'Deed I recollects 'bout de Yankees. They come and ask my pappy, de\nforeman, where was de mules and hosses hid out? Pappy say he don't know,\nhe didn't carry them off. They find out a boy dat knowed; make him tell,\nand they went and got de mules and hosses. They took everything and\nleft.\n\n\"Doctor Scott was our doctor. Dere was in them days lots of\nrattlesnakes; had to be keerful of them. Then us hear lots and had lots\nof chills and fever. They found de remedy, but they was way off 'bout\nwhat make them come on you. Some 'low it was de miasma dat de devil\nbring 'round you from de swamp and settle 'round your face whilst you\nsleep, and soon as he git you to snore you sniffed it to your liver,\nlights and gall, then dat make bile, and then you was wid de chills a\ncomin' every other day and de fever all de day. Marster Doctor Hayne\ndone find out dat de skeeter bring de fever and de chills, and funny,\nhe 'low dat it is de female skeeter bite dat does de business. You\nbelieve dat? I didn't at first, 'til old Doctor Lindor tell me dat it\nwas no harder to believe than dat all disease come into de world when a\nfemale bite a apple in de garden of Eden.\n\n\"I think Mr. Lincoln was raised up by de Lord, just like Moses, to free\na 'culiar people. I think Mr. Roosevelt is de Joshua dat come after him.\nNo president has done as much for de poor of both races as de one now\npresident. God bless him and 'stain him in his visions and work to bring\nde kingdom of heaven into and upon de earth.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #-1655=\n =C.S. Murray=\n =Charleston, S.C.=\n\n =Approx. 430 Words.=\n\n=GOING DOWN TO DIE=\n\n(=FOLKLORE=)\n\n=STORY TOLD BY EX-SLAVE=\n\n\nBoss Man, you talk about de brave soldier who been in de last big war\nand how dey look death in de eye and spit on him. I ain't see dat war.\nIt been 'cross de water. But I know sump'en 'bout de Civil War. I been\nyoung lad when de big gun shoot and de Yankee pile down from de north.\n\nTalk 'bout being brave. De bravest thing I ever see was one day at\nAshepoo junction. Dat was near de end of de war. Grant was standing up\nbefore Richmond; Sherman was marching tump-tump through Georgia. I was a\nstripling lad den and boy-like I got to see and hear everything. One day\nmore than all, de overseer sent my pappy to Ashepoo junction to get de\nmail. I gone 'long wid him. Seem like I jest had to go dat day.\n\nI member dat morning well. When I get to de junction de train start to\ncome in. What a lot of train! De air fair smoke up wid dem. They come\nshouting in from Charleston, bound up-country.\n\nI stand wid my pappy near de long trestle, and see de train rock by. One\nenjine in front pulling one in de back pushing, pushing, pushing. De\ntrain load down wid soldier. They thick as peas. Been so many a whole\nton been riding on de car roof. They shout and holler. I make big amaze\nto see such a lot of soldier--all going down to die.\n\nAnd they start to sing as they cross de trestle. One pick a banjo, one\nplay de fiddle. They sing and whoop, they laugh; they holler to de\npeople on de ground, and sing out, \"Good-bye.\" All going down to die.\n\nAnd it seem to me dat is de most wonderful sight I ever see. All them\nsoldier, laughing light, singing and shouting dat way, and all riding\nfast to battle.\n\nOne soldier man say in a loud voice: \"Well, boys we going to cut de\nYankee throat. We on our way to meet him and he better tremble. Our gun\ngreeze up, and our bayonet sharp. Boys we going to eat our dinner in\nhell today.\"\n\nI turn to my pappy and ax him how can man act like dat when they going\ndown to die. He answer me: \"Dat ain't nutting. They n'use to dat. Ain't\nyou know soldier different?\"\n\nBut I say: \"Pappy, you hear dem talk 'bout eat dinner in hell?\"\n\nHe answer me back: \"They been in de army 'long time. They don't study\nhell anymore.\"\n\nDe train still rumble by. One gang of soldier on de top been playing\ncard. I see um hold up de card as plain as day, when de luck fall right.\nThey going to face bullet, but yet they play card, and sing and laugh\nlike they in their own house ... All going down to die.\n\nDe train pull 'cross de trestle. I stand up and watch um till he go out\nof sight 'round de bend. De last thing I hear is de soldier laugh and\nsing ... All going down to die.\n\n\n  SOURCE: Interview with William Rose, 80, ex-slave of Edisto Island,\n  S.C., in 1936.\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=BENJAMIN RUSSELL=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS._=\n\n\n\"I was born fourteen miles north of Chester, S.C. the property of Mrs.\nRebecca Nance. After eighty-eight years, I have a vivid recollection of\nher sympathy and the ideal relations she maintained with her slaves.\n\n\"My father was just Baker, my mother just Mary. My father was bought out\nof a drove of slaves from Virginia. I have been told my mother was born\non the Youngblood place. (Youngblood name of my mistress' people in York\nCounty.) My father was a slave of a Mr. Russell and lived two or three\nmiles from the Nance place, where mother lived. He could only visit her\non a written pass. As he was religiously inclined, dutiful and faithful\nas a slave, my mother encouraged the relation that included a slave\nmarriage between my father and mother. My mother in time, had a log\nhouse for herself and children. We had beds made by the plantation's\ncarpenter. As a boy I remember plowing from sun to sun, with an hour's\nintermission for dinner, and feeding the horses.\n\n\"Money? Yes, sometimes white folks and visitors would give me coppers,\n3-cent pieces, and once or twice dimes. Used them to buy extra clothing\nfor Sundays and fire crackers and candy, at Christmas. We had good food.\nIn the busy seasons on the farm the mistress saw to it that the slaves\nwere properly fed, the food cooked right and served from the big\nkitchen. We were given plenty of milk and sometimes butter. We were\npermitted to have a fowl-house for chickens, separate from the white\nfolks. We wore warm clothes and stout brogan shoes in winter; went\nbarefooted from April until November and wore cotton clothes in summer.\nThe master and some of the women slaves spun the thread, wove the cloth\nand made the clothes. My mother lived in a two-story farm house. Her\nchildren were: William, Mattie and Thomas. We never had an overseer on\nthe place. Sometimes she'd whip the colored children, but only when it\nwas needed for correction.\n\n\"Yes, sir, I went with my young master, William, to Chester Court House,\nand saw slaves put on a block and auctioned off to the highest bidder,\njust like land or mules and cattle. Did we learn to read and write? We\nwere taught to read, but it was against the law to teach a slave to\nwrite. The Legislature passed an act to that effect. A number of cases\nin which slaves could write, the slave would forge a pass and thereby\nget away to free territory. They had a time getting them back. On one\noccasion I run in on my young master, William, teaching my Uncle Reuben\nhow to write. They showed their confusion.\n\n\"All slaves were compelled to attend church on Sunday. A gallery around\nthe interior of the church, contained the blacks. They were permitted to\njoin in the singing. Favorite preacher? Well, I guess my favorite\npreacher was Robert Russell. He was allowed sometimes to use the white\nfolks school, which wasn't much in those days, just a little log house\nto hold forth in winter. In summer he got permission to have a brush\narbor of pine tops, where large numbers came. Here they sang Negro\nspirituals. I remember one was called: 'Steal away to Jesus.'\n\n\"Runaway slaves? Yes, we had one woman who was contrary enough to run\naway: Addie, she run off in the woods. My mistress hired her out to the\nMcDonald family. She came back and we had to pelt and drive her away.\n\n\"How did we get news? Many plantations were strict about this, but the\ngreater the precaution the alerter became the slaves, the wider they\nopened their ears and the more eager they became for outside\ninformation. The sources were: Girls that waited on the tables, the\nladies' maids and the drivers; they would pick up everything they heard\nand pass it on to the other slaves.\n\n\"Saturday afternoons? These were given to women to do the family\nwashing, ironing, etc., and the men cut fire wood, or worked in the\ngarden, and special truck crops. Christmas? Christmas was a holiday, but\nthe fourth of July meant very little to the slave people. Dances? There\nwas lots of dancing. It was the pastime of the slave race. The children\nplayed shimmy and other games, imitating the white children, sometimes\nwith the white folks.\n\n\"The master and mistress were very particular about the slave girls. For\ninstance, they would be driving along and pass a girl walking with a\nboy. When she came to the house she would be sent for and questioned\nsomething like this: 'Who was that young man? How come you with him?\nDon't you ever let me see you with that ape again. If you cannot pick a\nmate better than that I'll do the picking for you.' The explanation: The\ngirl must breed good strong serviceable children.\n\n\"No, I never saw a ghost, but there was a general belief among the race\nin ghosts, spirits, haunts and conjuration. Many believe in them yet. I\ncan never forget the fright of the time my young master, William was\ngoing off to the war. The evening before he went, a whippoorwill lighted\non the window sill and uttered the plaintive 'whip-poor-will.' All the\nslaves on the place were frightened and awed and predicted bad luck to\nMaster Will. He took sick in war and died, just wasted away. He was\nbrought back in rags toward the end of the struggle.\n\n\"Mistress always gave the slaves a big dinner on New Year's Day and\ntalked to us out of the catechism. She impressed on us after dinner that\ntime, that we were free. Some were sorry, some hurt, but a few were\nsilent and glad. I and many of the others had been well treated. When we\nwere sick she visited us and summoned a doctor the first thing, but the\nremedies those days were castor oil, quinine, turpentine, mustard\nplaster and bleeding.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885 -1-=\n =District #4=\n =Spartanburg, S.C.=\n =May 29, 1937=\n\n=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVE=\n\n\n\"I was born about 1846, 'cause I was in de war and was 19 years old when\nde war was over. I went to Charleston with my master, Ros Atwood, my\nmistress's brother. My mistress was Mrs. Laura Rutherford and my master\nat home was Dr. Thomas Rutherford. We was on Morris Island.\n\n\"My father was Allen Rutherford and my mother Barbara Rutherford. My\ndaddy had come from Chili to this country, was a harness maker, and\nbelonged awhile to Nichols. We had a good house or hut to live in, and\nmy work was to drive cows till I was old 'nough to work in de fields,\nwhen I was 13. Then I plowed, hoed cotton, and hoed corn 'till last year\nof war and den went to Charleston.\n\n\"Master paid us no money for work. We could hunt and fish, and got lots\nof game around there. We had dogs but our master didn't like hounds.\n\n\"Col. Daryton Rutherford, doct's son, had me for a 'pet' on the place.\nThey had overseers who was sometimes bossy but they wouldn't allow dem\nto whip me. One old nigger named 'Isom', who come from Africa, was\nwhipped mighty bad one day. The padderollers whip me one night when I\nwent off to git a pair of shoes for an old lady and didn't git a pass. I\nwas 16 years old then.\n\n\"Doctor Rutherford had several farms--I reckon around 2,000 acres of\nland. We didn't have church nor school but sometimes we had to go to de\nwhite folks church and set in the gallery. We didn't learn to read and\nwrite. The mistress learnt some of de nigger chaps to read and write a\nlittle.\n\n\"We had Saturday afternoons off to wash up and clean up. When Christmas\ncome the doctor would give us good things to eat. When we was sick he\ngive us medicine, but some of de old folks would make hot teas from root\nherbs.\n\n\"We had old time corn-shuckings before and after freedom. We made sure\nenough corn den and lots of it--had four cribs full. When freedom come,\nthe old man had fallen off a block and was hurt, so one of de overseers\ntold us we was free and could go if we wanted to. Some of dem stayed on\nand some got in the big road and never stopped walking. Then we worked\nfor 1/3 share of the crops; had our little patch to work, too.\n\n\"I was 31 years old when I married first time. Was living in Mollohon.\nHer name was Leana and she belonged to Madison Brooks's family, as\nwaiting girl. I was married twice, but had 13 children all by my first\nwife. I have 14 grandchildren, and so many great-grandchildren I can't\ncount them.\n\n\"When de Ku Klux was in dat country I lived wid a man who was one of\nthem. The first I knew about it was when I went down to de mill, de mule\nthrowed me and de meal, and down de road I went to running and met a Ku\nKlux. It was him.\n\n\"I think Abe Lincoln and Jeff Davis good men, but don't know much about\ndem.\n\n\"I join de church when I was 68 years old 'cause God sent me to do it. I\nbelieve all ought to join church.\"\n\n  SOURCE: Joe Rutherford (92), Newberry, S.C.; Interviewer: G. Leland\n  Summer, Newberry, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885 -1-=\n =District #4=\n =Spartanburg, S.C.=\n =June 7, 1937=\n\n=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVE=\n\n\n\"I was born about 1849 in the Dutch Fork section of Newberry County,\nS.C. I was slave of Ivey Suber and his good wife. My daddy was Bill\nSuber and my mammy was Mary Suber. I was hired by Marse Suber as a nurse\nin the big house, and I waited on my mistress when she was sick, and was\nat her bed when she died. I had two sisters and a brother and when we\nwas sold they went to Mr. Suber's sister and I stayed with him.\n\n\"My master was good to his slaves. He give them plenty to eat, good\nplace to sleep and plenty of clothes. The young men would hunt lots,\nrabbits, possums, and birds. My white folks had a big garden and we had\neats from it. They was good cooks, too, and lived good. We card and spin\nand weave our own clothes on mistress's spinning wheels.\n\n\"Marse Suber had one overseer who was good to us. We went to work at\nsun-up and worked 'till sun-down, none of us worked at night. We\nsometimes got a whipping when we wouldn't work or do wrong, but it\nwasn't bad.\n\n\"We never learned to read and write. We had no church and no school on\nthe plantation, but we could go to the white folk's church and sit in\nthe gallery. Some of us was made to go, and had to walk 10 miles. Of\ncourse, we never thought much about walking that far. I joined the\nchurch because I was converted; I think everybody ought to join the\nchurch.\n\n\"The patrollers rode 'round and ketched slaves who ran away without\npasses. They never bothered us. When our work was over at night, we\nstayed home, talked and went to sleep. On Saturday afternoons white\nfolks sometimes give us patches of ground to work, and we could wash up\nthen, too. We raised corn on the patches and some vegetables. On Sunday\nwe just rested and went to neighbor's house or to church. On Christmas\nwe had big eats.\n\n\"Corn-shuckings and cotton-pickings always had suppers when work was\ndone. Master made whiskey up at his sister's place, and at these suppers\nhe had whiskey to give us.\n\n\"When we was sick we had a doctor--didn't believe much in root teas.\n\n\"I married when I was 15 years old at a white man's place, Mr. Sam\nCannon's. A negro man named Jake Cannon married us. Supper was give us\nby Mr. Sam Cannon after it was over.\n\n\"When freedom came, my mother moved away, but I stayed on.\n\n\"I think Abraham Lincoln was a good man, and Jeff Davis was a good man.\nI don't know anything about Booker Washington.\"\n\n\n  SOURCE: Lila Rutherford (86), Newberry, S.C., RFD\n  Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St.,\n  Newberry, 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 =Uncle Sabe Rutledge=\n\n (=Testimony given by old man born 1861, The Ark Plantation.\n Horry County--owned by Mr. John Tillman=)\n\n\n\"Fust thing I realize to remember, I nuster cry to go to the old\nboss--old Massa--for sugar. Massa say:\n\n\"'Martha, what Newman (he call me that) crying for?' Ma say, 'Wanter\ncome to you for sugar!'\n\n\"'Bring the boy here, Martha!'\n\n\"He gi'e me sugar.\n\n\"Boil salt? Pump! Pump! Pump it! Had a tank. Run from hill to sea. Had a\nplatform similar to wharf. And pump on platform. Fetch good high. Go out\nthere on platform. Force pump. My Grandmother boil salt way after\nFreedom. We tote water. Tote in pidgin and keeler--make out of cedar and\ncypress. No 'ting to crove 'em (groove 'em) compass. Dog-wood and oak\nrim. Give it a lap. (This was his description, with pantomime, of the\nway pidgin and keelers were made by plantation carpenters)\n\n\"My Grandmother had two pots going. Boil all day and all night. Biling.\nBoil till he ticken (thicken) Cedar paddles stir with. Chillun eat with\nwooden spoons. Clay pot? Just broken piece. Indian had big camping\nground on beach near the Ark. After big blow you can find big piece of\npot there. I see Indian. Didn't see wild one; see tame one.\n\n\"Indigo? Old man Lashie Tillman nuster plant indigo. Seed lak a flax.\nPut myrtle seed in with indigo to boil. Gather and boil for the traffic.\nAll the big folkses plant that fore the rice. Rice come in circulation,\ndo way with indigo. Nuster (used to) farm indigo just like we work our\ncorn. Didn't have nothing but ox. And the colored folks--they came next\nto the ox--Hill keep advancing out. Reckon you wouldn't blieve it, but I\nken cummember (Uncle Sabe stutters a bit) when all that beach been\ncultivate field. Must be nature for sand hill to move. Time most got too\nfast now for the people to live.\n\n\"Storm? Oh my Lord! Flagg Storm? Sea naturally climb right over that\nhill like it wasn't nothing. Water come to King Road. Reckon it would a\ncome further if the wind didn't shift.\n\n\"Calls this 'The Ridge.' Why? I first man settle here. Oak Ridge. (It is\nthe highest land between the Waccamaw river and the ocean.) Just name it\nso.\n\n\"Member the shipwreck. Two men and lady come to the Ark. Stormy time.\nMassa take them to town. Old anchor there now. Come a blow you kin see\nit. Water rise over it high tide.\n\n\"Ma tell me bout they had the to-do. Blockade at Inlet. Had 'em out to\ndrill (The Yankees came to shore to drill.) Old man John Tillman lose\nall he China-a-way! (chinaware.) Every bit of his china and paints\n(panes of glass) out the window. Yankee gun boat sojer (soldier) to\nMagnolia to drill. They tack 'em (attacked 'em) to cut 'em off. When\nRebs tack 'em, small boats gone back. She had to brace 'em. Shoot dem\nshell to brace. (Gun boat fired to frighten Rebs who were cutting\nYankees off from escape) I hear old man Frank Norris--lived right beyond\nVettrill Deas--I hear him (nuster come home to the Ark and trap)--I hear\nhim say lot of 'em bog. (Ella, Agnes and Johnnie Johnson fadder been\nthere) Bomb shell hit the hill and bury them in the sand. Had to dig\nout.\n\n\"Old man John Tillman my boss. Sho treat his people good. Don't see why\nhis folks (slaves) went to blockade (tried to escape and join Yankee\ngun-boats). Sho treat his colored folks good. My Grandfather, Rodrick\nRutledge, driver from a boy. Time he big nuff to handle it till Freedom.\n\n\"Couldn't marry widout consent of boss.\" (Remark from Uncle Sabe's\nsister, Mom Jane, who is quite acid. All her information inherited--she\nFreedom child) Mom Jane: \"Been to devil and come back now!\"\n\n(Comparing slavery to the lower regions)\n\nUncle Sabe--continuing:\n\n\"Have sick house; have chillun house.\" (All in this section tell great\ntales of the 'chillun house.' Sounds a lot like the nurse houses in\nRussia today. All the babies were in this day nursery in care of the\nolder women, too old for field work.) \"Corn. Meat--pig, beef,\nfish--plenty milk.\" (Some cow 'coffee cow'--that is give just enough\nmilk for the coffee.)\n\n\"Any rice?\"\n\nAunt Jane: (interrupting) \"Pick you teet (teeth) to find the rice! Great\nGod! Now I can buy my rice!\"\n\nUncle Sabe: \"Could plant up-land rice to Ark. (This on coast away from\nfresh water)\n\n\"Ash cake? Meal, salt, water. Not a grease! Not a grease! See Mudder\ncook it many a hundred day!\"\n\nMom Jane: \"Put it in the stove today,--nothing! Rather have it any day!\"\n\nSabe: \"Wrap it in brown paper, mostly. Cows free in woods. Alligator\ntail good. Snail built up just like a conch (whelk). They eat good.\nWorms like a conch. Bile conch. Git it out shell. Grind it sausage\ngrinder. Little onion. Black pepper. Rather eat conch than any kind of\nnourishment out of salt water.\"\n\nMom Jane: \"Conjur? Wouldn't turn a hucks bread for 'em.\" (Give a\ncrust.)\n\nSabe: \"What God got lot out for a man he'll get it.\"\n\n\"Flat boat full up (with slaves trying to escape) gone down Waccamaw.\nUncle Andrew Aunt the one got he eye shoot out (by patrollers) took 'em\nto camp on North Island. Never see so much a button and pin in my life!\nSmall-pox in camp. Had to leave 'em.\n\n\"Captain Ben and Captain Tom fadder--look how he die! Looker the blood!\nLooker the people! Looker the blood! His boat call 'The Bull River.' Up\nand down Pee Dee river. Meet flat! Bore hole in flat and women and\nchillun go down! Take men off. He COME TO THIS COUNTRY. (Came down from\nNorth before Civil War) Them darnish Yankee very percruel. (Peculiar?)\n\n\"My Great-grandmother Veenia, pirate captured and took all they money in\nEnglish war. (Revolution) Dem day Ladies wear bodkin fastened to long\ngold chain on shoulder--needle in 'em and thimble and ting. Coming down\nfrom New York to get away from English. My great grandmother little\nchillun. Pirate come to her Missus. Take all they money--come cut bodkin\noff her shoulder. Grandmother ma gone on the boat and twiss herself in\nMissus' skirt. Pirate put 'em off to Wilmington. Come on down settle to\nPitch Landing near Socastee. Keep on till they get to Ark.\n\n\"My Great-Grandma Veenia didn't have a teet in her head--one hundred\nten years old and could eat hard a bread as any we.\"\n\n\n  Uncle Sabe Rutledge\n  Burgess, S.C.--P.O.\n  Horry County\n  Age 76 (Born 1861)\n  Ark Plantation.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1655=\n =Genevieve W. Chandler=\n =Georgetown County, S.C.=\n\n =FOLKLORE=\n\n=UNCLE SABE RUTLEDGE=\n\n=(EX-SLAVE STORY)=\n\n\n\"They call him Rogerick Rutledge for shortness. My Grandpa REAL name\nJim. First time I big enough to realect (recollect) him he have on no\npants but something built kinder like overall and have a apron. Apron\nbutton up here where my overall buckle and can be let down. All been dye\nwith indigo. Have weave shirt--dye with blue indigo boil with myrtle\nseed. Myrtle seed must-a-did put the color in. Old brogan shoe on he\nfoot. Old beaver hat on he head. Top of crown wear out and I member he\nhave paste-board cover over with cloth and sew in he hat crown. My\nGrandmother wear these here gingham cloth call gingham twill.\n\n\"Now the chillun! I member I was a big boy grown when I get my first\npants. All boy chillun wear a shirt----long down to knee and lower. Have\nbelt round the middle--just like you belt to hold 'em. Chillun have not\na shoe! Not a shoe for chillun on us plantation to the Old Ark. First\nshoe I have, Pa get a cow hide and tan it. And a man name Stalvey make\nmy first pair of shoes. I was way near bout grown. Make the sole out the\nthickness of the cow hide. Short quarter. No eye--just make the hole.\nLast! Yes man! Yes man! Yes man! Keep 'em grease! Them shoe never wear\nout!\n\n\"We raise all we get to eat. Hominy, cornbread, peas, potatoes, rice.\nMorest we plant this here yellow corn. I cry many a day bout that yellow\ncorn! We say, 'Pa, this here yellow corn make hominy look like he got\negg cook in 'em; red corn look like hominy cook in red molasses!'\n\n\"But yellow corn stronger feed! Stronger feed! And Pa know 'em.\n\n\"Sunday come go to church in that same blue shirt! Little old pole\nchurch--(gone now)--call 'Dick Green Bay Church'. (Named for a local\ncharacter.) When we go to church before freedom, Mudder and them have to\nhave the ticket.\n\n\"Old man John Tilghman at the Ark Plantation have no overseer--have\n'Driver'. Most folks on Waccamaw have overseer and 'Driver'. My Pa been\nthe Ark 'Driver.'\n\n\"Old man Zachariah Duncan been the preacher. That the same man build the\nfirst 'Heaven Gate' church after freedom. He got drift lumber on the\nriver and on the beach. Flat 'em--make a raft and float 'em over to the\nhill and the man haul 'em to 'Heaven Gate' with ox. Yes. 'Heaven Gate'\nbuilt outer pick up lumber.\n\n\"Before freedom Parson Glennie--he was 'Piscopal--he would come give us\na service once a month on the plantation--so mother said.\n\n\"Patches of indigo all through the woods. You know cow eat indigo. Us\nhave too much ox! Have to haul rail all the time keep up the old fence.\nWoods full up with cow. Cattle loose--free. When you want beef have to\nhunt for 'em like we hunts deer now. I member some ox I helped broke.\nPete, Bill, Jim, David. Faby was a brown. David kinder mouse color. We\nalways have the old ox in the lead going to haul rail. Hitch the young\nsteer on behind. Sometimes they 'give up' and the old ox pull 'em by the\nneck! Break ox all the time. Fun for us boys--breaking ox. So much of\nrail to haul!\n\n\"(You can't tell me bout this pension? Look like to me somebody trying\nto smother something. Letters come. Cards come. My name on outside\nalright. Tell me to put my name on cards and hand 'em out to my friends.\nSay send twenty-five cents. Next time say 'Send thirty-five cents'. He\ncool off then and another man--Mr. Pope come in. Got two letter from him\nand he tell me be still till I hear from him again. J.E. Pope. Last\nblank I got from Mr. Pope he say not to look for more than thirty or\nthirty-two dollars a month. Say there ain't going to be no two hundred a\nmonth.)\n\n\"How come I know all these Buh Rabbit story, Mudder spin you know. Have\nthe great oak log, iron fire dog. Have we chillun to sit by the\nfireplace put the light-wood under--blaze up. We four chillun have to\npick seed out the cotton. Work till ten o'clock at night and rise early!\nMudder and Father tell you story to keep you eye open! Pick out cotton\nseed be we job every night in winter time--'cept Sunday! When we grow\nbigger, Mudder make one card. One would spin and then Mudder go to\nknitting. Night time picking these cotton seed out; day time in winter\ngetting wood!\n\n\"Fall----harvest peanut, peas, 'tater!\n\n\"I member all them Buh Rabbit story! Mudder tell 'em and we laugh and\nwake up! They was one bout Buh Rabbit and Buh Patridge. You know Buh\nPatridge the onliest one get the best of Buh Rabbit!\n\n\"Buh Rabbit bet Buh Patridge (Buh Rabbit think he so sharp you know!) He\nbet Buh Patridge if he fly off down the road a piece and lit Buh Rabbit\ncan find 'em.--Buh Patridge bet him he can't! So Buh Patridge take off\nand fly down the road a piece and lit--like a Patridge will do--lit and\nturn up on he back and rake the leaves over him and kiver (cover) his\nbody all 'cept he two foots sticking up like stick!\n\n\"Now Buh Rabbit come! He hunt and he hunt and he hunt! Couldn't find 'em\nand he get so hot he take off he coat and hang it on Buh Patridge foots!\n\n\"He go on hunting and after while he call out,\n\n\"'Well I can't find Buh Patridge! Can't find Buh Patridge!'\n\n\"And Buh Patridge sing out,\n\n\"'Well, Buh Rabbit, here I is! You hang you coat on my feet!'\n\n\"Buh Rabbit have to pay the bet! (I don't member what the bet was). So\nBuh Patridge was the onliest one I ever hear bout could get the best of\nBuh Rabbit!\n\n\"When Father and Mudder tell them story we chillun noddin'! Some cackle\nout and all jump up and go back to picking out cotton seed!\n\n\"There is another one bout Buh Bear. They goes out my head. I'll think\nthem Buh Rabbit up fore you come back Missus!\"\n\nAnd Uncle Sabe, who was sitting on the 'LOOK OUT' at the Floral Beach\nFishery, continued to let his eyes play all over the sea like\nsearchlights, ready to wave the black flag and march down toward the\nfishery holding it aloft keeping himself in a line with the fish if fish\nwere sighted. Since way before what he called 'the big war' he and his\npeople have eaten mullet and rice for the three fall months. His home\nwas visited before Uncle Sabe was located and children and\ngrand-children, wife, sister and neighbors were found seated and\nstanding all over the kitchen floor and piazza floor and steps----each\none with a generous tin plate of rice and fresh, brown, hot 'spot'----a\nfish not so valuable in summer but choice in fall and winter. Two hounds\nand a large cat worked around among the feasters for their well chewed\nbones.\n\n\n  SOURCE: Uncle Sabe Rutledge, The Ridge, Burgess, S.C., (Horry County)\n  Born first year of the Civil War.\n\n  (He owns his house and land,----some twenty-five acres under\n  cultivation. This is located on what appears to be a 'height of land'\n  lying between the Waccamaw and the Atlantic. Locally it is known as 'The\n  Sand Ridge'.)\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885 -1-=\n =District #4=\n =Spartanburg, S.C.=\n =May 31, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Martha Ritter=\n\n=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I was born in Edgefield county, S.C., about 1854. I was the son of\nLarkin and Cheny Ryan who was the slaves of Judge Pickens Butler who\nlived at Edgefield Courthouse. I has some brothers and sisters, but\ndon't remember them all. We lived in a log house with but one room. We\nhad good beds to sleep in, and always had plenty to eat. Old Judge\nButler was a good man. I was 10 years old when he died. Before then I\nworked in and around the house, and freedom come I stayed with the\nButler family two years, then went to Dr. Maxwell's.\n\n\"In slavery time we had extra patches of ground to work for ourselves\nwhich we sometimes worked on Saturday afternoons as we had dat time off.\nJudge Butler used to give us a little money, too, before freedom come,\nfor our work. We bought clothes and things we had to have. We had a big\nplantation garden dat the overseers planted for all on de place to eat\nout of.\n\n\"We used to hunt 'possums, rabbits, squirrels, wild turkeys, doves,\npartridges, and set traps for partridges and set box gums for rabbits.\nWe had good food then, plenty peas, cornbread, and wild game. When\nwinter time come we put on wool clothes and heavy shoes.\n\n\"Old Marse Butler and his mistress was good, de best folks in de\ncountry. They lived in a big house, had a girl and a boy, and over 1000\nor maybe 2,000 acres of land, on several farms. One was on Saluda River.\nHis overseers some was no good, but master wouldn't let them treat\nslaves cruel, just light whipping.\n\n\"We used to have to wake up at sun-up and work till sundown. We didn't\nlearn to read and write; but we had a prayer house on de plantation\nwhere we could go to sometimes, until freedom come, then we went on to\nit just the same. Old man Bennefield, a nigger preacher, talked to us\nthere. I can 'member one of de favorite songs we sung:\n\n    'Show pity, O Lord, forgive,\n    Let e'er repentant sinner live;\n    Are not thy mercies large and free,\n    May not a sinner trust in Thee.'\n\n    'My crimes are great, and can't surpass,\n\n    ---------------------------------------'\n\n\"None of Major Pickens Butler's slaves ever went away from him, but some\nin de neighborhood did run away, and day never heard of dem again.\n\n\"The paderrollers would catch a nigger if he didn't have a pass. Some\nwould pass and re-pass in the road, and maybe get catched and such\nscuffling would go on!\n\n\"We worked on Saturday afternoons unless boss give time off to work our\nown little patches or do some other work we had to do. But some would\nfrolic then and wash up for Sunday, or set around. On Sunday we went to\nchurch and talked to neighbors. On Christmas we celebrated by having a\nbig dinner which the master give us. We had three days holiday or\nsometimes a week. We had New Year's Day as a special day for working,\n'cause it was a sign if we worked good dat day, we would work good all\nde year. The white folks had corn-shuckings and cotton pickings in\nslavery and after freedom, too. Den would have big supper. Some\nneighbors walk ten miles, like walking to church or to school. Didn't\nthink anything of walking dat far.\n\n\"Some of de games played by children were marbles, jump-rope.\n\n\"Once an old man had his dog trained to say his prayers. The dog was fed\nbut wouldn't be allowed to eat until he put his paws in front and bow\nhis head on dem; de old man say to him, 'No, no, you die and go to hell\nif you don't say your prayers.'\n\n\"Once another fellow, a nigger, said he was going to his wife's house to\nsee her; but he had to pass his old partner's place on de way, who was\ndead. When he got opposite the partner's place something, maybe a ghost,\ncame to him and wrestled with him and wouldn't let him go on to see his\nwife, so he come back to his master's house and stayed.\n\n\"When the slaves got sick they had doctors, and used old herbs.\n'Jerusalem Ore' was a kind of herb for children, to build them up, and\nthere was field grass roots and herb roots which was boiled and tea\ndrunk for fevers. And 'Primer-rhine' tea which was drunk, too. Sometimes\nthey would hang garlic around small boys and girls necks to keep away\nany kind of sickness.\n\n\"We didn't have schools; started them the second year after freedom. Old\nGeneral Butler give us old slaves a home each and a small patch to work.\n\n\"I married when I was 21 years old, the first time in Edgefield County,\nnow called Saluda County. I have six children, nine grand-children, and\nfour great-grand-children.\n\n\"I think Abe Lincoln was good man and he was Providential arrangement. I\nthink Jeff Davis was good man, same. Booker T. Washington is good man,\ndone lots for young niggers. I rather like it now, and not slavery time.\nI joined church when I was 18 to turn from evil ways and to live a\nbetter life.\"\n\n\n  SOURCE: Henry Ryan (83), Newberry, S.C.; by G. Leland Summer, Newberry,\n  S.C.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =Folklore=\n =Spartanburg, Dist. 4=\n =Oct. 11, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I live in a rented three-room house with my daughter. I am too old to\ndo much work, but I work where I can get little jobs that I can do.\n\n\"The slaves did not expect anything after Freedom, for the South was in\nsuch a bad fix. They just got jobs where they could find them. Most of\nthem worked as share-croppers or wage hands on the farms, and have\nworked like this since that time. Some few have rented farms. When any\nmoved to town they got jobs where they could.\n\n\"I never thought much about Reconstruction. Some slaves voted at first,\nbut when Wade Hampton was elected they didn't get to vote much.\n\n\"I think the younger generation has too much freedom and doesn't stay\nhome enough. They want to have their own way.\n\n\"Over in old Edgefield where I was raised we had plenty to eat; plenty\npeas, corn bread, turnips and other things. We hunted wild game, too. I\nwas a slave of Major Pickens Butler. He was a good man and sometimes\ngave us a little money for our work. Our master gave us a small patch of\nland to work for ourselves and plant anything we wanted.\n\n\"No, I never think anything about voting. I am satisfied just to get\nalong.\"\n\n\n  Source: Henry Ryan (N--83), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/18/37.\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 am bad-sick woman, in bed and can't hardly talk and can't 'member\nmuch. I was born near Broad River in de Blair section. I belonged in\nslavery to de Blair family. My mudder and papa was Grace and Samuel\nBlair, and dey belonged to Capt. Blair. When dey was sold, I was put in\nde house wid a good free nigger woman to raise me and to stay 'till de\nwar was over. Den I come to de Blair house, and helped around de house.\nMy sisters could card, spin and weave, and I helped dem wid it. I didn't\nhave but one dress. When it got dirty, I went down to de creek and\nwashed it and put it against de lims to dry, but I had to put it back on\nbefore it got good dry.\n\n\"When I got old enough, I worked in de field, hoeing and picking\ncotton.\"\n\n\n  Source: Emoline Satterwhite (82), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 19, 1937\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =FOLKLORE=\n =Spartanburg, Dist. 4=\n =Sept. 9, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES OF EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"Marster Charner Scaife a-laying on his bed of death is 'bout de first\nthing dat stuck in my mind. I felt sorry fer everybody den. Miss Mary\nRice Scaife, his wife, was mean. She died a year atter. Never felt sad\nnor glad den; never felt no ways out of de regular way, den.\n\n\"Overseers I recollects was, Mr. Sam Hughes, Mr. Tom Baldwin, and Mr.\nWhitfield Davis. Mr. Baldwin was de best to me. He had a still-house out\nin a field whar liquor was made. I tote it fer him. We made good corn\nliquor. Once a week I brung a gallon to de big house to Marster. Once I\ngot happy off'n it, and when I got dar lots of it was gone. He had me\nwhipped. Dat de last time I ever got happy off'n Marster's jug.\n\n\"When I was a shaver I carried water to de rooms and polished shoes fer\nall de white folks in de house. Sot de freshly polished shoes at de door\nof de bed-room. Get a nickle fer dat and dance fer joy over it. Two big\ngals cleaned de rooms up and I helped carry out things and take up ashes\nand fetch wood and build fires early every day. Marster's house had five\nbedrooms and a setting room. De kitchen and dining-room was in de back\nyard. A covered passage kept dem from getting wet when dey went to de\ndining-room. Marster said he had rather get cold going to eat dan to\nhave de food get cold while it was being fetched to him. So he had de\nkitchen and dining-room jined, but most folks had de dining-room in de\nbig house.\n\n\"It took a week to take de cotton boat from Chester to Columbia. Six\nslaves handled de flat-boat. Dere was six, as I said, de boatman, two\noarsmen, two steermen and an extra man. De steermen was just behind de\nboatman. Dey steered wid long poles on de way up de river and paddled\ndown de river. De two oarsmen was behind dem. Dey used to pole, too,\ngoing up, and paddling going down. Seventy-five or eighty bales was\ncarried at a time. Dey weighed around three hundred pounds apiece. In\nColumbia, de wharfs was on de Congree banks. Fer de cotton, we got all\nkinds of supplies to carry home. De boat was loaded wid sugar and coffee\ncoming back. On Broad River we passed by Woods Ferry, Fish Dam Ferry,\nHendersons Ferry and Hendersons Island and some others, but dat is all I\nrecollect. We unloaded at our own ferry, called Scaife Ferry.\n\n\"I split rails fer fences. On Christmas we had coffee, sugar and biscuit\nfer breakfast.\"\n\n\n  Source: Alexander Scaife (82), Box 104, Pacolet, S.C.\n  Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n =Project #-1655=\n =Phoebe Faucette=\n =Hampton County=\n\n =FOLKLORE=\n\n=ELIZA SCANTLING EX-SLAVE=\n\n=87 Years=\n\n\n\"If you wants to know about de slavery times,\" said old Aunt Eliza,\n\"you'se sure come to de right person; 'cause I wuz right dere.\" The\nstatement was easy to believe; for old Aunt Eliza's wrinkled face and\nstiff, bent form bore testimony to the fact that she had been here for\nmany a year. As she sat one cold afternoon in December before her fire\nof fat lightwood knots, in her one-room cabin, she quickly went back to\nher childhood days. Her cabin walls and floor were filled with large\ncracks through which the wind came blowing in.\n\n\"I gits along pretty good. My chillun lives all around here, and my\ngranddaughter that's a-standin' at the window dere, takes care of me.\nDen de government helps me out. It sure is a blessing, too--to have sech\na good government! And 'Miss Maggie' good to me. She brought me dis\nwood. Brought it in her truck herself. Had a colored man along to handle\nit for her. But I so stiff I sometimes kin hardly move from me waist\ndown. And sometimes in de morning when I wake, it is all I kin do to get\nup an' wash me face. But I got to do it. My granddaughter bring me my\nmeals.\n\n\"I is 87 years old. I know 'cause I wuz so high when de war broke out.\nAn' I plowed my January to July de year 'fore peace declare. I remember\ndat. I wuz a good big girl; but jes' a child--not married yet. Yes'm I\nplowed a mule an' a wild un at dat. Sometimes me hands get so cold I\njes' cry. But dey all say I 'wuz a nigger what wuz a nigger!'\n\n\"In May peace declare. De first president of de country wuz Lincoln. He\ntook his seat in March. But I work for de white people 'fore dat. On a\nFriday mornin' our Massa, Mr. Richard Davant come an' told us peace\ndeclare. He come an' told us hisself. I wuz in de cornhouse a-shuckin'\ncorn to go to de mill on Saturday. After freedom all de niggers left\n'cept my Mamma. My father brought us back here to Col. Alex Lawton's\nplace at Robertville. He used to belong to Col. Lawton. Many years atter\ndat Col. Lawton moved to Savannah; but when he died dey brought him back\nhere an' buried him at Robertville.\n\n\"My young Missus was de daughter of Mr. Sam Maner, my old Massa; so when\nshe marry Mr. Davant I went wid her. Dey had bought a place in Screven,\nGeorgia. Seven year 'fore peace declare we went to Georgia. On a Monday\nmornin' a colored man come along an' tell Miss Anna de Yankees had took\nWaynesboro. We all went to see it. De fire had left de place clean.\nCould pick up a pin behind it. Other than dat I see nothin'. I never see\nno house burn down. I never hear no gun fire. I jes' see de uniform, an'\nsee 'em kill de hog an' sling 'em 'cross de saddle. Den when we come\nback to Robertville, we see de destruction left behind.\n\n\"After I git of size I mind de birds off de corn an' rice an' sech like.\nDen I'd take care of de turkeys. An' we'd sweep de yards. Carry de\nleaves off to de stable in a wheelbarrow.\n\n\"Both my missus wuz good to me. De last missus I own treat me jes' de\nsame as her own child. I stayed right dere in de house wid her, an' if I\nwuz sick or anything she'd take care of me same as her own chillun. I\nnurse one of her chillun. An' dat child would rather be wid me than wid\nher own mother!\"\n\n  Source: Elisa Scantling, Scotia, S.C. age 87 years.\n\n\n\n\n =Code No. 390166=\n =Project No. 1885-(1)=\n =Prepared by Mrs. Lucile Young & H. Grady Davis=\n =Place, Florence, S.C.=\n =Date, May 25, 1937=\n =Typed by M.C., N.Y.A.=\n\n =No Words_______________=\n =Reduced from ____ Words=\n =Rewritten by=\n\n=Mary Scott=\n\n=Gourdin, S.C.=\n\n=Ex-Slave, About 90 years old=\n\n\n\"Where and when were you born?\"\n\n\"On Gaston Gamble place, between here and Greeleville. In da Gamble's\nBible is my age. Don't know my age. Pretty much know how old, I bout 90.\nI wuz little girl when freedom come.\"\n\n\"Give the names of your father and mother.\"\n\n\"Father, John Davis. Mother, Tina Davis. Belonged to last mausa. Darby\nFulton. Gamble sold mama and three children to Fulton. Belonged to Davis\nafter freedom. Father belonged to Davis. Take first mausa's name. Sold\nto Arnold Mouzon. Didn't take Mouzon name.\"\n\n\"Where did your father and mother come from?\"\n\n\"Right where Grandma go, Gamble place.\"\n\n\"Did you have any brothers and sisters?\"\n\n\"James and Benjamin. All ded.\"\n\n\"Describe the beds and where you slept.\"\n\n\"Had plenty slaves. I don't know exactly how many. In dem times you\nknow, we had to get ticket to go to see dere family.\"\n\n\"What kind of house did you have to live in?\"\n\n\"Better dan dis. Better dan dis. Good house. Sleep on wooden bed. Straw\nand feather mattress.\"\n\n\"Do you remember anything about your grandparents or any stories told\nyou about them?\"\n\n\"I ain't know my grandmother, grandfather either.\"\n\n\"What work did you do in slavery times.\"\n\n\"Didn't do no kind of work. Mother milked, tended to de butter.\"\n\n\"Did you ever earn any money?\"\n\n\"No money.\"\n\n\"What did you eat and how was it cooked?\"\n\n\"Boil meat and put peas or greens, rice cooked dry, take up in plate and\neat. One girl get done and wash dishes and put dem up.\"\n\n\"Did you ever eat any possums?\"\n\n\"Yes, my brother catch possum and raccoon.\"\n\n\"Fish?\"\n\n\"Fishing in de branch.\"\n\n\"Did the slaves have their own gardens?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, plant big garden, no use plant, go to dere garden and get\nit.\"\n\n\"What clothes did you wear in cold weather?\"\n\n\"Thick. I could weave it with stripes and put one check one way and\nnother strip nother way.\"\n\n\"Hot weather?\"\n\n\"In winter warm clothes and shoes. Had Sunday clothes. I had a green\nworsted dress.\"\n\n\"Did the slaves have a church on your plantation?\"\n\n\"Go to white people church and sit out of doors and wait till dey come\nout and den we go in and have preaching.\"\n\n\"White or colored preacher?\"\n\n\"White preacher.\"\n\n\"Was your master a good man?\"\n\n\"Mr. Gamble like to drink liquor but still good people. All who I\ntalking about good people.\"\n\n\"What was Mr. Gamble's name?\"\n\n\"Mr. Gamble name Gastron Gamble. Son living in dat big house and grandson\nliving down dere.\"\n\n\"How many children did Mr. Davis have?\"\n\n\"He had some not many. Mr. Gamble had some too.\"\n\n\"What kind of house did Mr. Gamble live in?\"\n\n\"Medium size house. All had just common house, two-story.\"\n\n\"What about the overseer?\"\n\n\"Overseer he see dat you work soon. Driver go in de field and stay 'til\n12 o'clock.\"\n\n\"How many acres in the plantation?\"\n\n\"Don't know how many acres.\"\n\n\"What time did the overseer wake the slaves up?\"\n\n\"Wake dem up soon. Blow horn.\"\n\n\"Did you have to work hard?\"\n\n\"Work 'til sundown.\"\n\n\"Did you see any slaves punished?\"\n\n\"Some punished, but I ain't never see none whip. I heard stick strike de\nground and tie hands and feet. Paddle on dis side and den paddle on de\nother side 'til sore.\"\n\n\"Did you ever see any slaves sold or auctioned off?\"\n\n\"My mother and us sold. Mrs. Gamble died left my mama for a daily gift.\nShe wouldn't allow dem to whip me. I ain't know when we be sell, I wuz a\nbaby.\"\n\n\"Did you see slaves in chains?\"\n\n\"No chains.\"\n\n\"Did the slaves have a church on your plantation?\"\n\n\"Yes, de Gambles make us to go to Sunday school and learn us the Sunday\nschool lessons. I could plow. We went to white church and set down till\nwhite people go out and de old man dat tend to de church and open up de\nchurch and say come in, can't stay outside.\"\n\n\"Who preached for you all?\"\n\n\"My uncle, Jefferie Pendergrass, mother's brother. If colored people\nwant preacher preach, he go in dere and made de children be quiet and\npreach a nice sermon and have watch night but not in de church.\"\n\n\"Do you know any spirituals?\"\n\n\"I forgets dem things. I use to be good singer but I ain't got no teeth.\nI ain't been looking fer dis. If you hadn't come, I'd been gone.\"\n\n\"Where would you have gone?\"\n\n\"Just to walk about. All gone to de field and de children so bad.\"\n\n\"Tell about baptizing.\"\n\n\"Baptized by de white people.\"\n\n\"Did the slaves run away to the North?\"\n\n\"I ain't know 'bout dat.\"\n\n\"What about patrollers?\"\n\n\"No patarollers. Have to get ticket, whip dem if dey didn't get it.\nColored people do more than white people allow. Caused dem to whip dem.\nMy sister, my sister-in-law and girl went and tell dem dey gwine have\nplay in white kitchen. Mr. Sam Fulton boss wouldn't go to war. My\nsister, sister-in-law run up in de loft and tell dem come down and dey\ncome down and jump off de window and land in de mud hole wid dere best\ndress on. Mr. Fulton let dem have it in de quarters.\"\n\n\"Did you hear of any trouble between the master and the slaves?\"\n\n\"My grandmother went off and wouldn't come back. She write that she get\neveryday what she could get fer Sunday.\"\n\n\"Did you work on Saturday evenings?\"\n\n\"Some of de white people made dem work on Saturday evening. I had a\nuncle when white people come by going to church he hoeing his rice. Dey\ndidn't want him work on Sunday. Miss Elizabeth Gamble tell dem he gwine\nto chop his rice on Sunday.\"\n\n\"What did you do on Sunday?\"\n\n\"Go to church.\"\n\n\"Christmas day?\"\n\n\"I don't remember what dey give on Christmas day. My family got\nclothes.\"\n\n\"What did you do at a wedding or funeral among the slaves?\"\n\n\"Just say got a wife, ain't married. If anybody ded everything stop.\"\n\n\"What games did you play as a child?\"\n\n\"I don't know what all I played.\"\n\n\"Do you know any funny stories?\"\n\n\"No, sir, I used to tell my grands things.\"\n\n\"Did you ever see any ghosts?\"\n\n\"I ain't believe in it, but I see dem. Jest pass by and dey want bother\nyou. Don't know where dey come from. Dey look like people.\"\n\n\"You don't believe in them?\"\n\n\"No, sir, but I know one thing, dey say fox gwine mad. Say cat gwine mad\nbut dat ain't so. I ain't scared of nothing.\"\n\n\"You are not scared at night?\"\n\n\"When de moon shining. Moon ain't shine might fall and cripple. When we\nholler voice way back dere.\"\n\n\"When the slaves became sick, who tended to them?\"\n\n\"White people tended to dem. Use medicine.\"\n\n\"Do you make medicine out of herbs?\"\n\n\"No, sir, don't make it.\"\n\n\"Did you ever see anybody wear a ten-cent piece around the ankle?\"\n\n\"I see dem wear it, but I ain't know what fer.\"\n\n\"What do you remember about the war that brought you freedom?\"\n\n\"I know just as good when peace declared. Gun rolled in dat direction.\nMust be guns. Cook say roll thunder roll and I say de sun shine it ain't\ngwine rain. I wuz too little to know but my sister say every man and\nevery woman got to work for demselves.\"\n\n\"What did your master say?\"\n\n\"I ain't know what master say, he single man and didn't talk much.\"\n\n\"Did you stay with him the year after freedom?\"\n\n\"No, he didn't treat my mother right.\"\n\n\"Any schools for Negroes?\"\n\n\"Pretty good time before schools.\"\n\n\"Did the slaves buy any land?\"\n\n\"No land bought.\"\n\n\"Do you remember your wedding?\"\n\n\"I member jest as good 'bout my wedding. I married on Thursday night.\nSome white people from Kingstree and different ones come and pile it up\nand when I get all dem presents some one stick fire and burn it all\ndown.\"\n\n\"Whom did you marry?\"\n\n\"John Scott.\"\n\n\"Do you have any children?\"\n\n\"One gone in de field and dis one.\"\n\n\"What are they doing?\"\n\n\"Working on farms. Jane got killed in de wreck.\"\n\n\"Who is Jane?\"\n\n\"My daughter. She wuz coming to see me. Train wreck and kill her coming\nfrom Norfolk.\"\n\n\"How long ago was that?\"\n\n\"'Bout two years ago.\"\n\n\"What do you think of Abraham Lincoln?\"\n\n\"I see picture of dem. Picture in dere of Lincoln.\"\n\n\"Now that slavery time is ended, what do you think of it?\"\n\n\"I believe colored people do better in de slavery than now.\"\n\n\"Do you belong to the church?\"\n\n\"Yes, Promise Land Baptist church.\"\n\n\"Why do you think people ought to go to church?\"\n\n\"To have some protection and when you go in a church dat is a place for\nyou to be taken care of. Dey ain't got no religion.\"\n\n\"Was the overseer 'poor white trash?'\"\n\n\"I could hear de people talk 'bout him. Some like him and some don't. If\nI got a wife over yonder, I got to get ticket before I could go to see\nher. Had to work hard too.\"\n\n\"Let us see the picture of Lincoln.\"\n\n\"Dis is it.\" (Granddaughter shows us Aunt Mary's picture)\n\n\"Is that the one?\"\n\n\"Yea, I think so.\"\n\n\"Let me see, dat ain't de one. Here is.\" (Aunt Mary showed us a picture\nwhich looked to be taken from some New York newspaper. It was probably a\nscreen star).\n\n\"Who told you that was Lincoln?\"\n\n\"Some preacher or somebody come here and tell me.\"\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\"Aunt\" Nina Scot sat on her front porch. She was drinking some liquid\nfrom a bottle which she said would help her trouble. Being short of\nbreath, she was not able to talk very much. She said that she was very\nsmall at the time she was set free. \"My Marster and his folks did not\ntreat me like a nigger,\" she said, \"they treated me like they did other\nwhite folks.\" She said that she and her mother had belonged to Dr.\nShipp, who taught at Wofford College, that they had come here from\nChapel Hill, N.C. and that she was a tarheel negro. She said that white\npeople in slavery days had two nurses, one for the small children and\none for the older ones. \"Yes sir, those were certainly fine people that\nlived on the Campus during those days. (Wofford Col. Campus) When the\n'raid' came on, people were hiding things all about their places.\" She\nreferred to the Yankee soldiers who came to Spartanburg after the close\nof the Civil War. \"My mother hid the turkeys and told me where she had\nhidden them.\" Dr. Shipp came up to Nina one day and asked her where the\nturkeys were hidden. She told him they were hidden behind a clump of\nsmall trees, and pointed them out to him. \"Well,\" he said, \"tell your\nmother to go and hide them somewhere else and not to tell you about it.\nYou would tell the Yankees just where those turkeys were hidden.\" Aunt\nNina recalls that Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Duncan (formerly of Wofford College)\nhad a habit of getting a slice of bread and butter for all the\nneighboring children (black or white) whenever their nurses brought them\nto their home.\n\n\n  SOURCE: \"Aunt\" Nina Scott, 260 N. Converse St., Spartanburg, S.C.\n  Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg Office, Dist. 4\n  (May 17, 1937)\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 Newberry County, near the Laurens County line, above\nChappells Depot. My father and mother were Tom and Francis Scurry and\nbelonged as slaves to the Drury Scurry family. Dr. Drury Scurry bought\nthem from Col. Cooper of Laurens County. He was a fine man and mighty\ngood to his slaves. I worked around the house as a boy, and in the\nfields when I got old enough. Some of the nigger boys hunted 'possums,\nrabbits and squirrels. Dr. Scurry had 100 acres in woods. They were just\nfull of squirrels and we killed more squirrels than you can count.\n\n\"The slaves didn't have a garden, but after the war, we stayed on wid\nMarse Scurry. When freedom come, he come to us in the yard where we had\ncongregated and told us we was free and could go anywhere we wanted, but\nif any wanted to stay on wid him, he would pay wages. All of us stayed\non wid him. He give us a one-acre patch of ground to raise anything we\nwanted to raise. He had white overseers during slavery, but none ever\nwhipped us 'cause the master wouldn't let them. He had a plantation of\nabout 300 acres and 40 or 50 slaves. They got up at sun-up and worked\n'till sun-down each day, but had Saturday afternoons off when dey could\ndo anything dey wanted to.\n\n\"There wasn't much time for learning to read and write. The white folks\nsometimes had niggers to go to their church and set in the back of\ngallery. In our neighborhood, niggers had their own church dat they made\nof poles and brush, and called it, 'Brush Harbor'. They made seats from\nsmall logs sawed off of rough plank.\n\n\"On Christmas day, the master would have a big dinner for his slaves and\nspread it out in the yard. Corn shuckings were popular and so were\ncotton pickings, where big eats were prepared for those who helped.\nThey had big feasts at marriages, and even the slaves had feasts at\ntheir marriages, the master and his family taking part in the\nceremonies. I was married in 1887, and at that time I was living with\nMr. Renwick, and my girl with Dr. Tom Brown. Dr. Brown had us to marry\nin his yard in the grove, and over 200 persons was there to see it. The\nnext day, he give us a big 'infair' with all kinds of good things to\neat, presents and dances. We never had any children. After we moved to\ntown, my wife was a nurse or midwife among some of the white families\nfor a long time.\n\n\"In Ku Klux times, I met five or ten of them in the road one night. They\nnever bothered me. They had long white sheets over them and the horses.\nSlits were cut for the head, eyes, nose and mouth.\n\n\"The niggers had an old field song: 'Give me dat good ole time religion'\nwhich they sang most of the time. There was another song they sang:\n'Dark midnight is my cry--Give me Jesus, You may have all this world,\nbut give me Jesus.'\n\n\"Some old-time cures for the sick was--barks of cherry tree, dogwood,\nand olive bush, made into tea and drunk.\n\n\"I thought Abe Lincoln was a fine man, done mighty good and saved the\ncountry. Jeff Davis was a good man. Booker Washington was a great man. I\nthink slavery was bad; yet our white folks was good to us, but some\nwhite masters was mean. I think everybody should belong to the church\nand be a Christian.\"\n\n\n  SOURCE: Morgan Scurry (78), Newberry, S.C.; interviewed by:\n  G.L. Summer. Newberry, S.C. May 19, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n =S-260-264-N=\n =Project #935=\n =Hattie Mobley=\n =Richland County=\n =South Carolina=\n\n=Uncle Ransom Simmons=\n\n=Richland County, South Carolina.=\n\n\nUncle Ransom is one of the few remaining slaves who still lives and\nwhose mind is still clear and active. He has just passed his one-hundred\nand fourth birthday, was born in Mississippi, and brought to South\nCarolina by his master Wade Hampton, the father of the illustrious\nGeneral Wade Hampton, before the Civil War.\n\nWhen the war broke out and General Wade Hampton went to war Uncle Ransom\ncried to be allowed to follow his young master. He went and served as a\nbody guard. Uncle Ransom learned to read the Bible while attending a\nnight school held for slaves before freedom, and it was only in recent\nyears that he was taught to write his name.\n\nThis old man lives alone in a shack at Taylor, a little village on the\noutskirts of Columbia. He is furnished with all the milk and ice cream\nhe can eat by the Columbia Dairy. He purchases a little food with the\nstate pension of twenty-five dollars a year paid to Negroes who served\nthe Confederacy in some military capacity.\n\nUncle Ransom says his master was the kindest man in the world, and that\nas far as he is concerned, he has never had a worry in his life, and as\nhe said this, his face radiated with a broad and satisfied smile.\n\n\n  Reference:\n  Personal interview with Ransom Simmons age 104.\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =Stiles M. Scruggs=\n =Columbia, S.C.=\n\n=ALFRED SLIGH=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 100 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nAlfred Sligh, who lives in a rented house at 1317 Gregg Street, says he\nwas born in Newberry County, South Carolina, in 1837. His hair is white\nand he is feeble. He goes about the city, on fair days, collecting small\nsums of money from his white friends and sometimes from his own race. In\nthis way he earns most of his income.\n\n\"My folks was slaves of the Sligh family for many years, befo' I was\nborn. My mammy and daddy and me b'long to Butler Sligh, at de time I\nbegin to do chores and take notice of things. I be nearly half grown\nwhen my young master, Butler Sligh, am just four years old. He die, four\nor five years ago. I guess you 'member, 'cause he was a powerful\nwell-known white man. He was seventy-five years old when he die.\n\n\"De young master, he name for my old master. De old master and 'most all\nde white men of de neighborhood, 'round 'bout us, march off to de war in\n1861. One day I see them ridin' down de big road on many hosses and they\nwavin' deir hats and singin': 'We gwine to hang Abe Lincoln on a sour\napple tree!' and they in fine spirits. My young master, Butler, who they\ncall Junior at de time, he am too young to go with them so we stay home\nand farm. I go with him to de fields and he tell de slaves what to do.\nDurin' de war I see much of de soldiers who say they not quit fightin'\n'til all de damn-Yankees am dead. Dis was so, durin' de first two years.\nAfter dat I see more and more of de damn-Yankees, as they pass through\n'flictin' punishment on 'most everybody.\n\n\"Sho' we hear dat all Negroes am free in 1863, but dat rumor not affect\nus. We work on, 'til Sherman come and burn and slash his way through de\nstate in de spring of 1865. I just reckon I 'member dat freedom to de\nend of my life.\n\n\"We gang up at my grandmother's cabin and she tell us it am so. We look\nscared, lak mules in de midst of a hornet nest, as we stood dere. We\ndidn't wait long, for old Mistress Sligh she come 'long and say: 'Sho'\nit am so, you am free.' Many of de slaves, 'cludin' me, tell her we love\nto stay on and work as usual 'til de big white folks come. She smile and\nsay: 'All right, maybe we be able to feed and clothe you, and when your\nold master git back from Virginia, maybe he will hire you!'\n\n\"When I first marry, which was at de start of de war, I marry Sarah, a\nslave gal on de Sligh plantation. We has several chillun, befo' she die,\nwhich was soon after we move to Columbia. De chillun, at least two boys\nand two gals, all git grown, but they go North a long time ago, and I\nnever hears from them.\n\n\"When I come to Columbia in 1866, I find work on houses, and building\nwas plentiful then. I git 'long pretty well, then, 'cause if I did not\nland a job, I could go to de Freedman's Aid Office at Assembly and\nGervais streets and git rations and a little cash for my family. After\nde Freedman's Aid left town I had no trouble findin' work. And soon I\nwas pretty prosperous. I kept that way, so long as I was able to do my\nshare of de work.\n\n\"It was in 1913, as I was walkin' 'long Hampton Street, dat I see my\npresent wife, Sadie. She pass by me, and smile and look and I smile and\nlook, and she slow up a little and say: 'What's happen, big boy?' I am\nso tickled, I say: 'I just have to tell you:\n\n    'De rose am red,\n    De violet's blue,\n    No knife can cut\n    My love in two.'\n\n\"She say; 'Pretty good, big boy, pretty good! Come 'round and see me\nsometime.' I answer: 'I sho' will, Peaches and Cream'. And dat am just\nwhat I did. We got married dat same year, and we have been happy, 'til I\ngit too old and feeble to work much. She work now to de best of her\nability and we somtimes has a big squeeze to pay de rent. Dat is why I'm\nhopin' to get de old age pension, made possible by de greatest President\nof them all.\n\n\"Does I recall de 'sassination of de first President dat died dat way?\nYes sir, I sho' do. De first one was Abraham Lincoln, a little after de\nclose of de war. He was shot while sittin' in a seat in de theater at\nWashington. James A. Garfield, was de nex' one. He was shot in de depot,\nat Washington. De nex' one was McKinley. He was shot while at a show\nplace, in Buffalo.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon,=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=DAN SMITH=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 75 YEARS._=\n\n\nDan Smith lives in one room, rent free, of a three-room frame house, the\nproperty of his son-in-law, Jim Cason. It is situated on the southeast\ncorner of Garden and Palmer streets in the town of Winnsboro, S.C. He is\ntall, thin and toothless, with watery eyes and a pained expression of\nweariness on his face. He is slow and deliberate in movements. He still\nworks, and has just finished a day's work mixing mortar in the\nconstruction of a brick store building for Mr. Lauderdale. His boss\nsays: 'The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.' There is nothing\norganically wrong with Dan but he appears, in human anatomy, as Doctor\nHolmes's One Horse Shay must have looked the day before its final\ncollapse.\n\n\"You been here once befo' and now here you is again. You say you wanna\ngit additions? Well, I's told you dat I was born in Richland County, a\nslave of Marse John Lever and on his plantation, January de 11th day,\n1862, when de war was gwine on. How I know? 'Cause my mammy and pappy\ntold me so. They call my pappy Bob and my mammy Mary. Strange as it\nseem, my mistress name Mary, just de same as my mammy, tho' marster\nwasn't name Bob, lak pappy. Him name Marster John and de young marster,\nan only child, was name Marse Jim. You better stop right dere 'til I\ntell you pappy no b'long to de Levers. Him b'long to de Smiths. Him name\nBob Smith, after freedom. Dat's how come I be dis day, Dan Smith. You\nketch de p'int? Well dats de way it was.\n\n\"Befo' pappy take a shine to mammy in slavery time, her got mixed up\nwid one of old Marse Burrell Cook's niggers and had a boy baby. He was\nas black as long-leaf pine tar. Her name him George Washington Cook but\nall him git called by, was Wash Cook. My full brudders was Jim, Wesley,\nand Joe. All of them dead and gone long ago.\n\n\"Us chillun slept on de floor. Mammy had some kind of 'traption or\nother, 'ginst de wall of de log house us live in, for her and de baby\nchild to git in at night. Us have plenty to eat, sich as: peas, 'tatoes,\ncorn bread, 'lasses, buttermilk, turnips, collards and fat meat.\n\n\"De only thing I 'member 'bout my mistress is: One day her come down to\nde house and see my brudder Joe sucking his thumb. Mammy tell her, her\ncan't make him quit it. Mistress go back to de big house and come\nrunnin' back with quinine. Her rub Joe's thumbs wid dat quinine and tell\nmammy to do dat once or twice a day. You ought to see dat baby's face de\nfirst time and heard him squall! It sho' stopped him sucking his thumbs!\n\n\"Clothes? Didn't need no clothes in de summer time but a shirt. In de\nwinter, us just stood 'bout de fire. I'm talkin' 'bout us chillun, don't\n'member 'bout old folks.\n\n\"Master and Mistress lived in a big white house, two stories high, tall\nbrick chimneys at de gable ends, and wide front and back piazzas de full\nlength of de dwelling. Us chillun had no shoes. Mammy had two pair all\nde time but they had wooden bottoms. Dere was no white overseers 'round,\nbut patarollers (patrollers) ketched my pappy once, in de house, jerk\nhim out and whup him, while mammy and us chillun yell and cry and beg\nthem to stop.\n\n\"When de Yankees come, mammy hide us chillun under her bed 'traption.\nThey act mighty nice to her, so she say.\n\n\"What kinda work mammy do? Her was one of de weavers. Heard her tell\n'bout how they make de thread and de cloth. They had spinnin' wheels.\nPerson turn de wheel wid de hand and walk back'ards and for'ards,\ndrawing out de thread. Dis kind of thread, her say, was rough. Later\nthey got a thing de spinners operate wid deir foots, settin' by de wheel\nand workin' it wid deir foots, sorta lak a sewing machine is run. Her\n'low de thread dat come to her in de weave-room from dis kind of\nspinnin' was smoother and more finer than de other kind. After de yarn\nwas spin, it was reeled off de spools into hanks and then took to de\nwarper. Then she woofed it, warped it, and loomed it into cloth. Her\nmake four yards in a day.\n\n\"After freedom, pappy come and take mammy and all us chillun to a farm\non Cedar Creek, in dis county, Fairfield. I works dere 'til 1872, I\nthinks. I gits concerned 'bout dis time wid two things, jinin' wid de\nLord, and jinin' wid de woman. De fust was easy. All I had to do was go\nto de Methodis' revival, shout a little, and jine up befo' de preacher.\nI just had to be convicted and convinced, but mind you, I was de one to\nbe convinced, de other was not so easy. De Lord was easy to find and\nquick to take me, but de gal was hard to find and was slow to take me,\n'cause she was de one to be convinced dis time, you see.\n\n\"I looks all 'round Cedar Creek. De ones I could git, I wouldn't have,\nand de ones I would have I couldn't git. So dere it was. I mounts old\nBetsy, dat was pappy's mule, one Sunday and come to Winnsboro. I spied a\ngal at church, 'bout de color of a ripe pumpkin after de big frosts done\nfall on it, hair black as a crow and meshed up and crinkled as a cucker\nburr. Just lookin' at her made my mouth water. Me and old Betsy raise de\ndust and keep de road hot from Cedar Creek to Winnsboro dat summer and\nfall, and when us sell de last bale of cotton, I buys me a suit of\nclothes, a new hat, a pair of boots, a new shirt, bottle Hoyt's cologne\nand rigs myself out and goes 'round and ask her to marry me. Her name\nIda Benjamin. Did her fall for me right away? Did her take me on fust\nprofession and confession lak de Lord did? No sir-ree bob! Her say: 'I\ngot to go to school some more, I's too young. Got to see papa and mama\n'bout it. Wait 'til you come nex' time and I'll tell you.' I was\nconfused then, I gits up, gives her de cologne bottle, and mounts old\nBetsy, spurs her in de side, gallops, and cusses all de way back to\nCedar Creek. I confess to mammy. Her laugh and say: 'Dan, you knows\nnothin' 'bout women and gals. Why it's mighty plain she gonna say yes,\nnex' time.' Just lak her say, Ida did, and us got married de end of de\nnex' school term, in May.\n\n\"Us had ten chillun. Dan, name for me, is at Concord, N.C. Oscar is in\nConcord, N.C. Lucinda marry a Haltiwanger and is comfortable in\nBaltimore, Md. Aurelia marry a Williams and is in Baltimore. Henrietta\nmarry a Sawney and is in Charlotte, N.C. Lilly marry Jim Cason and live\nright in Winnsboro, in de house I have a room in.\n\n\"I got lots of gran'childs, too many to mention, They take after dere\ngrandma, lak to go to school and read de Bible and go to church and\nSunday School.\n\n\"Whut I have on my mind now is a pension. When a man git seventy-five\nyears old, (I hear folks talk 'round me) dat man should not be 'lowed to\nwork on de Supreme Court, him should be give a pension of $15,000.00 and\nmade to stop work. Him may have chillun dat can support him, all de\nsame, dat jedge gits his pension. Then in de name of goodness, why don't\nthey make me quit mixing mortar when I is seventy-five years old and\ngive me $240.00 a year? Sauce for de fat goose Supreme Court Jedge,\noughta be sauce for de mortar mixer poor gander, I 'low. It look lak\njestice for de rich jedge and mix more mortar for poor Dan.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Code No.=\n =Project, 1885-(1)=\n =Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=\n =Place, Marion, S.C.=\n =Date, July 22, 1937=\n\n =No. Words=________\n =Reduced from______words=\n =Rewritten by=\n _______________________\n\n=HECTOR SMITH=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 79 Years=\n\n\n\"I born down here in Wahee Neck. Easter Avant, dat was my mammy en my\nfather name Hector Smith. Coase I ain' never see him cause he die fore I\nwas born, but dat what dey tell me. Dat was a pretty rough time wid de\npeople den. I don' recollect so much bout de times back dere cause in\ndat day en time chillun didn' have de heap of knowledge dey have dis day\nen time, but I remembers seein de Yankees en de people gwine to de war.\nOh, dat was a tough time cause dey use de whip in dem days. Oh, yes'um,\nmy Massa whip my gran'mammy wid a leather strap. You see she had a knack\nof gwine off for some cause or another en meetin de boat what run up en\ndown dat big Pee Dee river en bring fertilizer en all kind of goods to\nde peoples. Massa Randall had told her not to go nowhe' bout dat boat,\nbut some people is sorta high strung like en dey go off anyhow no matter\nbout de whip. Oh, yes'um, he sho whip her like he didn' have no soul to\nsave.\"\n\n\"I couldn' tell you nothin bout how many slaves Massa Randall Davis had,\nbut I know dat he had a right smart of them. I know it cause he had so\nmany field hands dey didn' none of em never have to work every day in de\nfield. Oh, dey just knock bout our Massa house en see after de stock en\nsuch things as dat what time dey didn' have to work in de field.\"\n\n\"You knows when a thing happen so long back dere, it does vanish from a\nperson's remembrance some of de time en den it'll wander back to you\nwhen you ain' thinkin bout it. I does recollect dat dere wasn' nothin\nmuch more for de colored peoples in dat day en time den what dey got to\neat en de clothes dey had to wear. My Massa give everyone of he colored\nfamily a peck of meal en a quart of syrup en so much of meat every week\nen 'low em all to have a garden of dey own. Oh, dey work dey garden by\nde moonshine en fore light good in de mornin cause dey had to turn dey\nhand to dey Massa work when daylight come here. I tellin you corn bread\nwas sweet to me in dat day en time as pound cake ever been. Wasn' never\nnoways pickin' en choosin bout nothin. Oh, I forget bout all dem possums\nen rabbits dat eat right smart in dem days. Use to catch em when dey had\nswells of de water en dey come out de woods to hunt dry land. It just\nlike dis, dey couldn' conceal demselves in de open fields en dat\nhow-come we catch em so easy. Run em down wid de dogs en make em take to\nde water. Dat how we catch em. Dat sho was sweet eatin in dem days.\"\n\n\"Den we had a log house to stay in what never had but just one room en\nde furniture we had was worser den de house. Us beds was made wid four\nstumps for de corners dat had boards lay cross em to put de mattress on.\nSome of de colored peoples had bag mattress stuff wid hay en de others\nhad homespun mattress what was stuff wid dis here gray moss you see in\nde woods. En I remembers all bout when de peoples had to cook in de\nfireplace cause dere wasn' much stoves in circulation in dat day en\ntime.\"\n\n\"Well, I don' know so much bout dem things peoples call ghost, but I\nknow dat I has seen things. I knows once long time back I was gwine long\nde road late on a evenin drivin me ox what I had hitch up to de cart en\na ghost or somethin or another cause dat cart wheel to go right in de\nditch. Well, de ox, he pull en he pull, but wid all me help, he couldn'\nnever pull dat cart out. I ax some of dem people bout dere what dey\nreckon dat was en dey say all dey know to compare it to was a hant or a\nghost. No 'mam, didn' see it, just hear it cause it come right to my\nback en knocked. It had been rainin en soon as it quit, de moon shine\nout bright as ever was day en dat when de hant turn de cart loose.\"\n\n\"De next thing I see was one time when me en another fellow was sleepin\nin de swamp. I couldn' tell whe' de moon rise den en when I come to my\nsenses, dere was one of dem things just a danglin in de air like dese\nthings show people have. Some people say dat was a ghost.\"\n\n\"Oh, de peoples didn' never worry bout no doctor den. Dey doctor was in\nde field in dat day en time. I gwine tell you just like I know it, all\nde older peoples use to get de herbs out de old fields for dey remedies.\nMy Massa en my Missus was de ones what doctor mostly in dem times. Use\nto get old field ringdom, what smell like dis here mint, en boil dat en\nlet it steep. Dat what was good to sweat a fever en cold out you. Den\ndere was life everlastin tea dat was good for a bad cold en cherry bark\nwhat would make de blood so bitter no fever never couldn' stand it. Dem\nwhat had de rheumatism had to take dat lion's tongue or what some\npeoples calls wintergreen tea en some of de time, dey take pine top en\nmix wid de herbs to make a complete cure. Oh, dey make it bad as dey\ncould so as to weaken de case. Another thing dat been good for de\nrheumatism was dat red oak bark dat dey use to bathe de limbs wid.\nWillow tea was somethin good for chill en fever en catnip en sage tea\nwas de thing for babies.\"\n\n\"It like I tell you de colored peoples never get no learnin but what\nlittle dey catch from de plantation men in dem night schools. Oh, dey\ngive everyone of us a slate en slate pencil en we study dere in de\nquarter in de night time by de light of de fire. Studied dem Blue Back\nWebsters. Dat was de text we know bout den.\"\n\n\"I tell you de truth I live so much in darkness den dat I think dat time\nwas bout good as dis time. Didn' know no better sense den. I tell you\njust like I been know it, de peoples was coward like in dem days.\nCouldn' never pluck up no ambition to do a heap of things de people do\ndis day en time. Dat how-come I rather live in dis go round.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Hector Smith, ex-slave, age 79, Wahee section of\n  Marion Co., S.C.\n  Personal interview, July 1937.\n\n\n\n\n =Code No. 390144=\n =Project, 1885-(1)=\n =Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=\n =Place, Marion, S.C.=\n =Date, July 14, 1937=\n\n =No. Words________=\n =Reduced from_____words=\n =Rewritten by=\n ______________________\n\n=HECTOR SMITH=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 79 years=\n\n\n\"I studied en studied what songs would suit, but dem old familiar hymns\nbout all I know dese days. You see dem old familiar hymns what de spirit\nsings. It just like I tell you, I put all dem other kind of songs away\nwhen I is change to a better way of livin. I does remember first one en\nden de other of dem frolicksome song dat my grandparents learnt me.\"\n\nNOBODY BUSINESS BUT MINE\n\n I.  Rabbit in de hollow,\n     I ain' got no dog,\n     How can I catch em?\n     I do know! I do know!\n     O Me! O Mine!\n     Sorry dat if I leave my home,\n     I gwine to my shack\n     Wid de chicken on my back,\n     Nobody business but mine.\n\n                                   (_Continued on next page._)\n\n II. Rabbit in de hollow,\n     Ain' got no dog,\n     How can he catch em?\n     I do know! I do know!\n     O Me! O Mine!\n     Let every nigger have his way,\n     Gwine to his shack\n     Wid he chicken on his back,\n     Nobody business but his.\n\n\n  _Source_: Hector Smith, ex-slave, 79 years.,\n  Wahee section of Marion Co., S.C.\n  Personal interview, July 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, July 14, 1937=\n\n =No. Words______7____=\n =Reduced from_____words=\n =Rewritten by=\n ________________________\n\n=_WAY DOWN IN DE LONESOME VALLEY_=\n\n\n I.   De mockin birds a singin so sweetly,\n      So sweetly, so sweetly.\n      De mockin birds a singin so sweetly,\n      So sweetly, so sweetly.\n      Way down in de lonesome valley.\n\n II.  Dey tell you one thing en dey mean another,\n      Mean another, mean another.\n      Dey tell you one thing en dey mean another,\n      Mean another, mean another.\n      Way down in de lonesome valley.\n\n III. Some say, what make de young girls so deceivin?\n      So deceivin, so deceivin?\n      Some say, what make de young girls so deceivin?\n      So deceivin, so deceivin?\n      Way down in de lonesome valley.\n\n\"Dat go way back dere. De peoples didn' have nothin more den a mouth\norgan to make music wid in dem times.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Hector Smith, age 79, ex-slave., Wahee section\n  of Marion Co., S.C.\n  Personal interview, July 1937.\n\n\n =Code No.=\n =Project, 1885-(1)=\n =Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=\n =Place, Marion, S.C.=\n =Date, July 14, 1937=\n\n =No. Words____8______=\n =Reduced from_____words=\n =Rewritten by=\n ________________________\n\n=_HOLD DE DEAL_=\n\n\n I.   Kitty, Kitty died O--O,\n      Kitty had a man.\n      Rather kiss a monkey,\n      Den to kiss a nigger man.\n      Hold de deal! Hold de deal!\n      I'm gwine to get drunk again.\n\n II.  Nigger on de horseback,\n      Thought he was de king.\n      Come along alligator,\n      En let de nigger in.\n      Hold de deal! Hold de deal!\n      I'm gwine to get drunk again.\n\n\n  _Source_: Hector Smith, age 79, ex-slave, Wahee section\n  of Marion Co., S.C.\n  Personal interview, July 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, July 14, 1937=\n\n =No. Words____9______=\n =Reduced from_____words=\n =Rewritten by=\n ________________________\n\n=Hector Smith=\n\n=ex-Slave, 79 years.=\n\n\n\"I use to holler a heap in late years but after I lay it down, all dat\nleave me.\"\n\n    Bulldogs a barkin,\n    Howl! Howl!\n    Bulldogs a barkin,\n    Howl! Howl!\n    Bulldogs a barkin,\n    Howl! Howl!\n    Ah--oodle--oodle--ou,\n    Ah--oodle--oodle--ou,\n    Ah--ou--ah--ou,\n    Ah--oodle--ou,\n    Ah--ou--ah--ou,\n    Ah--oodle--oodle--ou.\n\n\n  _Source_: Hector Smith, 79 years, ex-slave, Wahee section\n  of Marion Co., S.C.\n  Personal interview, July 1937.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-(1)=\n =Folk Lore=\n =Spartanburg, S.C.=\n =District No. 4=\n =May 28, 1937.=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =R.V. Williams=\n\n=STORIES OF EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"Aunt\" Jane Smith, 80 years old, says that she was only eight years old\nwhen the war ended, and that her recollections are very meagre as to\nconditions during slavery.\n\nHer mother belonged to John Snoddy, who owned a farm a few miles west of\nSpartanburg. Her father was owned by Dr. Miller of a nearby plantation.\nShe stated that she was old enought to rock the cradle for the white\nbabies during slavery.\n\nShe stated that she could remember seeing some of the slaves being\nwhipped on their bare backs with a plaited hickory stick, or thong. She\nnever received any whippings. She said that a man once cut at her with\nhis thong, but that she escaped the blow by dodging.\n\nShe said she remembered seeing a small child with a piece of bread in\nits hand when a hog entered the house and in snatching at the bread,\ncaught the child's hand near the thumb with its tusks. When running off,\nthe hog carried the child with it, dragging it along into the field. All\nthe other children and some men ran after the hog and caught it. The\nother colored children were whipped, but by staying in the house and\nwatching the babies, keeping them safe from other pigs which had also\nentered the house, she was not whipped.\n\nAunt Jane said that when the Yankee soldiers came to the house, they\nwere just as thick as the \"fingers on her hands.\" She held up her hands\nfor inspection to illustrate how thick the soldiers stood in the ranks.\nShe said they did not take anything, but that they crawled under the\nhouse to get the hen eggs. One soldier, she said, came to the house and\nasked if there were any horses on the farm. A colored woman told him\nthat there were no horses on the place, but just at that time, one of\nthe horses in a nearby stable neighed, and the soldier threatened the\nwoman's life for lying to him. She says she doesn't remember whether the\nsoldier took the horses but thinks that he did.\n\nThe soldiers told the colored people that they free, but she said that\ndidn't signify much to her mind. Some time afterwards, she said her\nfather came and carried her and her mother to his master's place. Later,\nshe came to Spartanburg and got a job as a cook and washerwoman.\n\nWhen asked if she knew anything about conjuring, she stated that she had\nheard of it but didn't know anything about it. When asked if she had\never seen a ghost, she said, \"No, but I heard one once.\" She said that\none night after her master had killed \"hisself\" in the barn with a\npistol, she heard the doors being shut, the windows being slammed, and\nthe chairs rocking on the front porch all by themselves. She declared\nthat the wind was not blowing and that a \"ghost was doing all dem\nthings.\"\n\nShe stated that she had been married twice; had reared a houseful of\nchildren; had adopted some and reared them, but that she didn't have\nanybody to work for her now but \"him,\" referring to her husband who was\nsitting on a trunk.\n\n\"Thank the Lord for coming to see me,\" she said, as the writer left.\n\n\n  SOURCE: Jane Smith, Concord St., Spartanburg, S.C. Interviewer: F.S.\n  DuPre\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =Folklore=\n =Spartanburg, Dist. 4=\n =Nov. 9, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I liked to went crazy when my brother, Bob, went to Arkansas. Den Marse\nGeorge Young wrote our names in a book and give it to my ma. It was jes'\na small mem'randum book. We kept it till Miss Addie, dat is Mrs. Billy,\ngive ma de Bible storybook, and den she copied our names in dat one. De\nlittle book was about wore out den; so it was burned up when Miss Addie\nhad done finished writing our names in de storybook. Us gwine to keep\ndat book and hand it down atter we done left dis earth. Ma been dead now\nover fifty years.\n\n\"I sho nu'sed Marse George's chilluns fer him, when I was a little gal.\nJimmie, Willie, Conquest, Jack, Katie and Annie was Marse's chilluns.\nConquest dead now. Marse George had a great big house. He was a jes'tice\nof de peace or something or 'nother den. I don't know what year my ma\ndied, but Marse had her buried at New Chapel. Dat same year we raised a\nbig crop of corn, cotton and peanuts, and had plenty hogs. Marse let us\nhave all we wanted. He let us hang our meat in his smokehouse dat year.\n\n\"Befo' ma died and I was a little gal, a terrible thing happened to us.\nAcross de Enoree on another place, de Miller place, Fannie Miller run\naway. Dey couldn't find her fer a long time. Dey told my marster to git\nher. One Sunday my ma got ready to dress me fer Sunday school. She\nbathed me and when she looked in de drawer she couldn't find my clothes.\nAll of her clothes was gone, too. I cried 'cause I couldn't go to Sunday\nschool. Maude, de woman what lived next to us, went to church. She saw\nFannie dar wid all ma's clothes on. She told Marse about it and he sont\nout and had Fannie caught. She had come to our house and got de clothes\non Saturday evening. She had dem hid in a old house on our place. Dey\nput her in jail, and den her marster come and whupped her and sont de\nclothes back to ma. She never tried to run off agin.\n\n\"Jack Gist, a slave of Gov. Gist, run away once and lived in a cave fer\nfive months befo' de white folks found him. He went down on 'de forest'\nand dug a cave near de road in sight of de Harris Bridge which still\nspans de Fairforest Creek at dat p'int. De cave wasn't dug on Governor\nGist's land, but on a place know'd den as de old Jackson place. In de\nmid hours of night Jack come to see his friends and dey give him things\nto eat. When dey got him he had a hog, two geese, some chickens and two\nmiddles of meat. Cose de hog and de middles was stole.\n\n\"One night he was crossing de Fairforest Creek on a foot-log and he met\nAnderson Gist, one of de Governor's slaves. Dey talked fer awhile. Next\nmorning, Anderson come wid his marster to de cave whar Jack was. Dey\ntook all his things on to de big house, and he was whupped and put back\nto work. Governor Gist and our marster was good to deir slaves and dey\ndidn't punish 'em hard like some of 'em did. We had lots more den dan we\nhas had ever since.\n\n\"I never went to de field till atter freedom come. Dey wasn't hard on us\nin de fields and I liked to work. We worked mostly from sun-up till it\nwas too dark to work. Marster's youngest girl, Mary Jane Young, married\nMr. Dave Lane. Dey didn't have a wedding.\n\n\"My grandpa was a African and he talked real funny. He was low, chunky,\nfat and real black. He went around a lot befo' he died. He was de father\nof my mother, Clora. Granny, his wife, was called 'Fender' and she died\nde first year of freedom. She was sold and lived on a neighboring\nplantation. We went to see her every Saturday. Ma would always take us\nto see her, and if we didn't git to go, she come to see us. We liked to\ngo, and Marse always give us a pass. De patrollers watch us like a hawk,\nbut we had our passes and we told dem if dey bothered us our marster\nwould handle 'em. He would, too, 'cause dat was 'de law'. Granny Fender\nwas good looking. She wore purty beads, earrings and bracelets, and\nwrapped her head up in a red cloth. Her eyes and teeth flashed and she\nwas always jolly. Sometimes we stay all night, but most de time we come\nback home. When she come to see us she always stay all night. All de old\nfolks had real religion den, and it kept 'em happy. Folks now are too\nfancy fer religion and it ain't real. I has real religion and nothing\ndon't worry me. I feels happy all de time over it.\n\n\"My marster give my mother de spot of ground and de lumber fer our\nchurch which was named New Chapel. De second church is on de same spot.\nDe first preaching was had under a oak tree, or arbor. Uncle Tony Murphy\nwas de first preacher. He was my favorite of all de preachers. Marse\nread de Bible to us, but sometimes others read it to us, too. His son,\nBud, dat was killed in de first battle, used to come to de quarters and\nread de Bible to us.\n\n\"Alex Hall was de minister dat immersed us all. We was all Methodists,\nbut out dar dey baptized everybody in de Fairforest no matter what\nchurch dey went to. Dar was fifty people baptized de day dat I was.\nMilly Bethane made me a big white robe to be baptized in. When I got out\nI had a white dress to put on. Dey had a tent fer us to go in to change\nour clothes. We was baptized in de Fairforest jes' above de Harris\nBridge. Everybody sung while we was going under de water. Some of 'em\nshouted, too. It took de earthquake to shake religion in my husband. He\nwas Emanuel Gist, de first one.\n\n\"Dat night, de people was hollering and woke me up. My husband called\nme. 'What dat?' he 'low. 'I don't know,' I says. He got up and run out.\nSoon he come back home and he was shaking all over. He fell on de bed.\nWhen de chimney started to fall, I told him to git up. He said he was\ntoo scared to git up. I pulled him up and he was so scared dat he shook\nall over. I opened de door. He was too scared to stand up. Next day he\ncouldn't work; so he went off. I looked fer him till way in de night.\nWhen he did come home, he was rejoicing. He was wid religion and he\nnever give it up. Dat was on de night of de earthquake. You could hear\npeople hollering fer miles around.\"\n\n\n  Source: Mary Smith (N, 84), Buffalo St., Union, S.C.\n  Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (9/14/37)\n\n\n\n\n =S-260-264-N=\n =Project: #1885=\n =Augustus Ladson=\n =Charleston, S.C.=\n\n=EXPERIENCES OF AN EX-SLAVE ON WARDMALAW ISLAND=\n\n=_Massa Wus Kind to Slaves_=\n\n\nPrince Smith, a man who is said to be over a hundred years of age, has\nlived on Wardmalaw Island practically all of his life. His experiences\nduring slavery are very interesting and true to life. An interview with\nhim revealed the following:\n\n\"I was bo'n an' raise' on dis island and was only frum here when de\nCivil War had begun. W'en Fort Sumter wus fired on mossa carried seventy\nof us to Greenville, South Ca'lina on account of its montanous sections,\nwhich was believed would have prevented the Yankees invasion in regard\nto their hide-out.\" We stayed een Greenville nearly four years. Durin'\ndat time mossa planted his fa'm an' we wurk as if we wus right here.\n\n\"The Yankees had gunboats,\" he continued, \"but dey didn' help dem atoll\nfur dey couldn' make any a'tack dat dis place is so unsuited fur water\nbattles. But forest' battles wus fight on Beaufort Island and Port\nRoyale. We een Greenville didn' know enyt'ing 'bout whut wus goin' on\nexcept what wus brought to us collud people by dose who wus sent to da\ntown. Mossa didn' tell us eny ting. Fur almos' four 'ears we stayed een\nGreenville w'en suddenly one Chuesday mornin' bright an' early, Sheridan\ncame into Greenville on horse backs en' order ebery body to sarrendar.\nColonels an' Gen'rals came een de city widout de firin' of a gun. We\nstayed dere 'til harvestin' time by de orders of Master Osland Bailey\nwho saw to it dat we wus given money as a share fur our wurk.\n\n\"Mossa's custom at de end of de week wus to give a dry peck o' corn\nwhich you had to grin' on Sat'day ebenin' w'en his wurk wus done. Only\non Chris'mus he killed en give a piece o' meat. De driber did de\ndistribution o' de ration. All young men wus given four quarts o' corn\na week, while de grown men wus given six quarts. All of us could plant\nas much lan' as we wuld fur our own use. We could raise fowls. My master\nwus a gentleman, he treat all his slaves good. My fadder an' me wus his\nfavorite.\n\n\"Some o' de slaves had to wurk on Sunday to finish dere week's wurk. If\ndey didn' de dribber who wus a Negro would give a lashin' varyin' frum\nfifteen to twenty five chops. Only high-class massas had Negro\ndribbters, de crackers had white overseers.\n\n\"Like odder slaves had to hide frum dere mastas to hab meetin', us could\nhab ours any night we want to even widout his consent. When masta went\nto town any o' his slaves could ax him to buy t'ings for dem een\nCha'leston. When Jews en peddlers came with clothes an' gunger to sell,\nwe as chillun would go to him an' ax fur money to buy whut we want.\n\n\"He had about four hund'ed acres of land which he divided in two half by\na fence. One 'ear he would plant one an' let de cattles pasture on de\noder. We could also raise hogs 'long wood his but had to change pasture\nw'en he did. De people on his plantation didn' hab any need to steal\nfrom him fur he didn' 'low us to want fur any thing.\n\n\"Dere wus three kinds of days wurk on de plantation: One is de whole\ntas', meanin' a whole han' or a person een his prime. He wus given two\ntas' fur dis day's wurk. A tas' carried frum twenty four to twenty five\nrows which wus thirty-five feet long en twenty five feet wide. De shree\nfourth han' wus given one whole tas' which consists of twelve rows. All\nde young chillun wus included in dis group. De half han' was de old\nslaves who did a half tas' for dere day's work. When it was time to pick\ncotton, de shree fourth han' had to pick thirty pound' an' de half han'\ntwenty fur dere day's wurk. Dose who attended to the gin only include de\nthree fourth han'.\n\n\"Massa had shree kinds o' punishment fur dose who disobeyed him. One wus\nde sweatbox. It wus made de height of de person an' no larger. Jus'\nlarge 'nough so de person woodn' hab to be squeezed in. De box is\nnailed an' een summer is put een de hot sun; een de winter it is put in\nde coldest, dampest place. De next is de Stock. Wood is nailed on floor\nwith de person lyin' on his back wid hans an' feet tied wood a heavy\nweight on de chest. De shird is de Bilboa. You are place on a high\nscaffold fur so many hours an' if you don' try to keep a level head,\nyou'll fall an you will surely hurt yourself if your neck isn't broken.\nMost o' de time dey were put dere so dey could break dere necks.\"\n\n\n  _SOURCE_\n\n  Information from an interview with Mr. Prince Smith, who is supposed to\n  be over a hundred years of age, Wardmalaw Island, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =Folklore=\n =Spartanburg, Dist. 4=\n =Nov. 29, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"Lawsey, honey chile, how does I know jes' when I was born. All sech as\ndat don't mean nothing to us old slave time darkies. De mis'tus say,\n'Silas, you sho was thirteen years old when dat 'Federate War wound up!\nDat's all I knows and dat's what I goes by. De white folks is worrying\n'bout my age being in sech and sech a year and all de like of dat. No\nsech as dat don't worry Silas, kaise he sho don't give it no mind, dat I\ndoesn't.\n\n\"Mis'tus call us all to set down on de side steps wid our hats in our\nhands. She read dat paper. When she git through, us still sets, kaise no\nwriting never aggrevated us niggers way back dar. She wait a few\nminutes; den she 'low: 'It means dat you all is free, jes' as free as I\nis.' 'Dumpling Pie' jumped up and started crying. We all looked at him,\nkaise he was a fat lazy thing dat laid around like dumplings a-laying\nover kraut, and we axed him what he was crying for. He say, 'I ain't\ngwine to be no free nigger, kaise dat brings in de Issue, and I wants to\nkeep my ma and pa, and what is I'm gwine to do widout Marse Dusey?'\n\n\"Dat woke us up. Didn't narry nigger on dat entire plantation know what\nto do widout his marster. It was de awfulest feeling dat everything in\ndem quarters laid down wid dat night, de new feeling dat day was free\nand never had no marster to tell dem what to do. You felt jes' like you\nhad done strayed off a-fishing and got lost. It sho won't no fun to be\nfree, kaise we never had nothing.\n\n\"Next morning Mis'tus low, 'Silas, I wants you to keep on being my house\nboy.' Dat sound de best to me of any news dat I had got. She hired me\nand I jes' kept on den as I had been gwine befo'. De quarters broke up,\nkaise Marse Dusey couldn't keep all dem niggers, so Mis'tus low'd. Marse\nwas at de war and Mis'tus took things on.\n\n\"Dat left only a few in de quarter. In de meantime, carpetbaggers and\nscalawags had put devilment in some of dem ig'nant niggers and dey\nthought dat if dey leave, de U.S. gwine to give dem a plantation atter\nde war had ceased, and plenty mules to make dem rich, like quality white\nfolks. So by dat time dey was a-raring to git moved off. But I stay on\nwid Miss Sallie, as I called her den.\n\n\"One dark, rainy cold day a stranger come riding up on a po' hoss and\nfetched a note of sorrow. Marse Dusey had done died somewhars, and\nMis'tus was widowed to de ground. I stayed on, and in a year she died.\nMr. Thomas Smith of Hickory Grove is de onliest chile living of my\nmis'tus, and he is 71 years old.\n\n\"Atter Mis'tus died, I went to live wid my pa on Mr. 'Baby' John Smith's\nplace. He had been my pa's marster. Way back den it was so many John\nSmiths. 'Pears like it was mo' den dan now. Dat why dey call Mis'tus'\nhusband 'John Dusey'. Each John had a frill to his name so dat folks\ncould keep dem straight in deir minds whenever dey would speak of dem.\nMis'tus sho was good to me. I 'members her chilluns' names well; Misses\nAurita and Amenta. Miss Amenta married Mr. Sam Jeffries. Miss Rachael,\nMis'tus other daughter, married Mr. John Morrow. Her 'Baby' John married\na lady whose name I jes' disremembers, anyway dey had a son called\n'Jeff'. He lived between Hickory Grove and Broad River. All dese Smiths\nwhich I gives you renumeration of is de Hickory Grove Smiths. You jes'\nhas to keep dem straight yet.\"\n\n\n  Source: Silas Smith (N, 85), Gaffney, S.C.\n  Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (11/27/37)\n\n\n\n\n =Code No.=\n =Project, 1885-(1)=\n =Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=\n =Place, Marion, S.C.=\n =Date, May 17, 1937=\n\n =No. Words _____=\n =Reduced from ____ words=\n =Rewritten by=\n =_____________=\n\n=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 83 years.=\n\n\n\"Honey, my white folks been well-to-do peoples. Dey ain' been no poor\nwhite trash. Dey hab 'stonishing blood in dey vein. I been b'long to\nMassa Sam Stevenson wha' lib right down dere 'cross Ole Smith Swamp. Dey\nain' hab no chillun dey own, but dey is raise uh poor white girl dere,\nBetty. Dey gi'e (give) she eve'yt'ing she ha'e en dey school she too.\"\n\n\"De ole man, he mind ain' been zactly right when he die. Dey say he bury\nsome o' he money down dere on he place jes 'fore he die. Coase I dunno\nnuthin 'bout it, but dats wha' dey tell me. Dey say dey never is find\ndat money a'ter he been dead. Reckon it dere yet, I dunno. Peoples\nuse'er aw de time be plough up kegs en box full o' money en va'uables\nwha' de well-to-do folks been hide dere.\"\n\n\"De white peoples use'er bury dey silver en dey money en aw dey\nva'uables late on uh evenin' er early on uh mornin' when de Yankees come\n'bout. De Yankees 'stroy aw us white peoples va'uables wha' dey is see.\nUm----dem Yankees sho' was 'structive whey dey is went.\"\n\n\"My ole mammy been Sally Stevenson 'fore she marry en den she wuz Sally\nBowens. My ole Missus take she 'way from her mammy when she wuz jes uh\nlittle small girl en never wouldn't 'low her go in de colored\nsettlement no more. She been raise up in de white folks house to be de\nhouse girl. Never didn't work none tall outside. She sleep on uh pallet\nright down by de Missus bed. She sleep dere so she kin keep de Missus\nkivver (cover) up aw t'rough de night. My mammy ain' never do nuthin but\nbeen de house girl. My Missus larnt (learned) she how to cut en sew so\nshe been good uh seamstress is dere wuz anywhey. She help de Missus make\naw de plantation clothes en dere ain' never been no better washer en\nironer no whey den my ole mammy wuz.\"\n\n\"When I wuz uh little small girl, us lib right dere in my ole Missus\nyard. Dey le' us chillun play aw us wanna den. Never did hadder do none\nhard work tall. My Massa is some uh time send we chillun in de field to\nscare de crow offen de corn. Ain' never been no hoe hand in me life.\nWhen dey send we to scare de crow 'way, we is go in de field when fuss\n(first) sun up en we is stay dere aw day. Coase we is come to de house\nwhen 12 o'clock come en ge' we sumptin uh eat. Dese white folks 'round\nhere don' hab no chillun to scare de crow offen dey corn nowadays. Dey\nhas aw kind o' ole stick sot (set) 'bout in de field wid ole pant en\ncoat flying 'bout on dem to scare de crow 'way. Dere be plenty crow\n'bout nowadays too. I hears em hollerin aw 'bout in dis sky 'round 'bout\nhere.\"\n\n\"I 'member when I use'er nu'se de white folks baby. I al'ays did lub to\nnu'se de babies, but I didn't never lub to nu'se no ug'y baby. I lub to\nhab uh pretty baby to nu'se. Didn't lak no boy baby neither. Don' lak\nboy baby nohow. Lubbed little girl baby. Lubbed to take de little girls\nen dress em up in dey pretty clothes en carry dem out under de trees to\n'muse dem whey dere wuz plenty peoples 'bout to see em. Mammy al'ays 'ud\nfuss at me 'bout puttin' on dey best clothes, but I ain' never do lak\ndese nu'se do nowadays. I take care o' my babies, didn't never 'low em\nwallow in de dirt lak yunnah see dese nu'se do 'bout here dese day en\ntime.\"\n\n\"I 'members one time I been nu'se little boy baby en I is larnt he hair\nto curl jes uz pretty. I bresh he hair eve'y morning en twist it 'round\nme finger en he is had pretty curl uz dere wuz anywhey. Never lak de\nMissus to cut my baby hair off neither when I had larnt it to curl.\"\n\n\"I been lub to wash little baby clothes too. I is primp em up so nice.\nNever did put no starch much in em. I do me best on em en when I ge'\nt'rough, dey been look too nice to le' de child muss up.\"\n\n\"Honey, I can' stand no chillun fuss 'round me no more dese days. Don'\nhab no chillun fuss 'round me peaceful little place. I tell aw me\nchillun en grandchillun en great-grandchillun dat I can' stand no\nchillun fuss 'round me no more. My Sammie, he marry three times en I ax\nhim why he wanna marry so many time. I ain' never see no man I is wan'\nsince my ole man die.\"\n\n\"I ain' wha' I use'er to be, child. I ain' able to do nuthin more now\nbut dem little bit o' clothes wha' Miss Betty hab. Coase she clothes\nain' hard to wash. Miss Betty mighty clean, honey, she mighty clean. She\ndon' strip she bed but eve'y udder week en den de sheet ain' dirty one\nspeck. She does wash she self eve'y day en de sheet don' ge' de crease\nout dem from one time dey wash till de next. I say I gwinna wash Miss\nBetty clothes jes uz long uz de Massa'll le' me em.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Personal interview with Mom Jessie Sparrow,\n  age 83, colored, 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. May 24, 1937=\n\n=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 83 years.=\n\n\n\"I dunno, child, I don' 'member nuthin more den I tell yuh de udder\ntime. Is yuh been to see Maggie Black yet? I dunno how old she, but I\nknow she been here. No, child, Maggie ain' dead. She lib right down dere\nnext Bethel Church. She move 'way from Miss Mullins house when Gus die.\nCoase I ain' ne'er been in she house a'ter she move dere, but dey say\nshe hab uh mighty restful place dere. Dat wha' dey tell me. Maggie\noughta could tell yuh aw 'bout dem times. I ain' know nuthin more to\ntell yuh. Don' tell yuh aw I know.\"\n\n\"Who my mammy wuz? My mammy been Sallie Stevenson 'fore she marry en den\na'ter she marry, she waz Sallie Bowens. Don' know whey dey ge' de Bowens\nfrom cause my pa been b'long to be uh Evans. Dat how come Miss Betty\nknow so much 'bout me. She say we mighty nigh de same age. Coase I don'\nnever 'spute Miss Betty word, but I don' t'ink so.\"\n\n\"No, child, I dunno. Dunno how many chillun my mammy is hab. Dey aw been\ndie sech uh long time dat I don' forgot. Coase George, de carpenter, my\nbrother. He been train up by uh good carpenter man en Henry, wha' paint\naw dese house 'bout here, b'long to be annuder one uv we. It jes lak\n'bout my own chillun, I ain' 'member how many dey wuz. I know dere 'bout\nt'ree uv dem bigguns dead, but aw dem babies, Lawd, I ain' 'member how\nmany dere wuz. Can' never recollect nuthin 'bout how many dere been come\nhere.\"\n\n\"My mammy been de house girl in my white folks house. She marry when she\nain' but 13 year old. Dat wha' she tell me. She say she marry to ge'\nouter de big house. Dat how come she to marry so soon. Say de white\nfolks take she way from she mammy when she won' but uh little small girl\nen make she sleep right dere on uh pallet in de Missus room aw de time\n'fore she marry. Coase a'ter she marry, she been de house girl right on\nbut she never stay in de Missus house when night come. Us chillun ain'\nbeen 'low to stay in de big house. Dey hab uh room put on de kitchen fa\nmy mammy en she family to lib in. We chillun stay right dere in de yard\nwhey my mammy could look a'ter us in en 'round. My mammy hadder stay\n'bout my ole Missus aw de day en help she cut en sew de plantation\nclothes en wash en iron. Den she hadder help make quilts outer aw de\nscrap dat been left o'er a'ter de garment was cut out.\"\n\n\"Us chillun been fed from de table right dere in de Missus kitchen en\nsome uv de time my mammy 'ud bring us sumptin to eat, wha' wuz cook in\nde Missus kitchen, en le' us eat it in she room. Dey'ud gi'e us hominy\nen milk en meat fa us break'ast. My white folks hadder uh lot uv cows en\ndey'ud gi'e us chillun plenty milk en clabber to eat. We is hab milk en\nclabber eve'y day en dey is gi'e us plenty meat to eat, so dey is dat.\nChild, I ain' know no slack eatin' 'round my ole Missus. Some uv de time\nwe hab hoecake en den annuder time dey'ud gi'e us obben (oven) bread.\nDey cook eve'yt'ing on de fireplace in dem days, eve't'ing. Jes hab rods\nput 'cross de fireplace in de kitchen wid pot hang on it. Dat whey dey\ncook us ration. Dey'ud gi'e us t'ings lak peas en collards en meat fa we\ndinner. Den dey'ud gi'e us uh big bowl uv corn bread en clabber late in\nde evenin' cause jes lak I is call to yuh jes now, dey is use milk right\nsmart in dem days. I lak eve'yt'ing wha' dey is hab to eat den. Dey\nnever eat lak dese peoples eats nowadays. I won' larnt to lak aw kind uv\nt'ing. Dey use'er cook poke salad wha' been season wid meat. Don' yuh\nknow wha' dat? Poke salad is come up jes lak dose weed out dere en dey\nis cut de top offen dem en take aw de hard part outer em en den dey is\nboil em uh long time wid meat. Dey is eat right good too. Don' lak\nspinach en aw dat sumptin en don' lak celery neither. Don' lak butter\nput in nuthin I eats. I laks me squash fried down brown lak wid grease\nin de pan. I laks me beets wid uh little vinegay on em en season wid\nsome sugar sprinkle on em. Don' lak em jes wid nuthin but uh little salt\nen butter smear aw o'er dem lak some uv dese peoples 'bout here eat em\nnowadays.\"\n\n\"Yas'um, we use'er eat plenty uv em possum. Eve'y one dey is ketch, us\nparent cook it. Us eat aw kinder wild animal den sech uz coon, possum,\nrabbit, squirrel en aw dat. Hab plenty uv fish in dem days too. Hab pond\nright next de white folks house en is ketch aw de fish dere dat we is\nwan'. Some uv de time dey'ud fry em en den some uv de time dey'ud make\nuh stew. Dey'ud put uh little salt en onion en grease in de stew en\nanyt'ing dey been ge' hold uv.\"\n\n\"Massa Sam been hab uh heap uv colored peoples 'sides we, but dey lib up\non de hill in de quarters. My Missus, she see to it she self dat dey hab\ngood bed wha' to sleep on en plenty sumptin uh eat. She docker (doctor)\nem when dey ge' sick too en she be mighty anxious ef dey sick mucha. Us\nhab good clothes en shoes den too. Coase de peoples'ud wear more clothes\nden, en dey'ud put on more undey shirt in de winter den dey wear in de\nsummer. My white folks'ud make de plantation clothes outer gingham en\njeanes cloth mostly. Dat jeanes cloth be wha' dey make little coat en\npant outer. Dat sumptin jes lak homespun.\"\n\n\"No, child, dey ain' ne'er gi'e us no money den. Never need no money\nden. My Massa been provide eve't'ing us hab, honey, eve'yt'ing. We ain'\nlak fa nuthin den. We chillun ain' been big 'nough to do nuthin but\nscare de crow offen de corn en some uv de time my ole Missus'ud hab we\nchillun sweepin' outer in de yard when she be out dere wid us.\"\n\n\"Yas'um, honey, my white folks al'ays'ud see dat dey colored peoples'ud\ngo to chu'ch (church) eve'y Sunday. We hadder walk dere to de white big\nMethodist Chu'ch up de road en sot en de gallery. Yas'um de white folks\nis stay down en we is go up. Ef we chillun never go, my ole Missus'ud\nteach us de catechism right dere in de back yard. Hadder wash us face en\nhand en come dere to she. Yas'um, I 'members dat aw right.\"\n\n\"My white folks'ud ride to chu'ch in dey big ole carriage en dey\ndriver'ud hab dey big black hosses bresh jes uz shiny. I forge' de\ndriver name. Dey hab uh pair uv dem black hosses wha' been match hosses\nen dey is look jes lak. En den one day de ole Yankees is come t'rough\ndere en dey is carry one uv dem 'way. A'ter dat dey hadder use one uv de\nplantation hoss in de place uv dis carriage hoss. De Missus'ud al'ays\ntake my mammy in de carriage wid she too. Never left her home, so she\ntell me. Jes stuff she down dere 'tween de seats somewhey.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, colored, Marion, S.C.\n  Personal interview, May 1937.\n\n\n\n\n =Code No.=\n =Project No. 1885-(1)=\n =Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=\n =Place, Marion, S.C.=\n =Date, September 7, 1937=\n\n=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 83 Years=\n\n=Marion, S.C.=\n\n\n\"No, honey, dere ain' not a soul live here but me. Man stay in dat other\nroom dere just to be a little bit of company for me when night come. He\nain' not a speck of kin to me, not a speck. Oh, he pay me a little\nsomethin, but it not much. Mostly, I does want him for protection like.\nAin' got but just dis one room for myself cause dat part out dere does\nbe just like out in de yard. Dis Miss Mary Watson house en she tell me\nstay on here dat de house ain' worth no fixin. Don' know how long I be\nhere. No, honey, I ain' got no property only just myself. Ain' got not a\nbit. Ain' got nothin, child. I can' do no work dese days but dat little\nbit of washin dat Miss Betty have en dat ain' nothin to depend on. Just\ntry to do a little somethin to help myself along. Nothin worth to speak\nbout though.\"\n\n\"Miss Betty say we bout one age. My daddy belonged to Miss Betty father\nen dat how-come she know dere ain' much difference in us age. My mammy\nwas de house 'oman on old man Sam Stevenson plantation en dat whe' I was\nborn. When we was freed, I was a little small girl en my daddy moved us\nup here in town right over dere on de Gibson place. Fore den, when he\nhave a mind to see us, he had to come cross de swamp dere to old man Sam\nStevenson place en dat de reason he move us. He say it take too much\npains to keep dat gwine back en forth. I remembers I finished growin\nright up here in dis town over dere on de Gibson place. My mammy have\ntask to cook dere en my daddy been de butler man, but I was small den.\nCan' recollect much bout it. Reckon I wouldn' hardly know de place whe'\nI was born if I go back dere now. De old man Sam Stevenson had nice\nhouse, but it burn down long time back. Dey tell me dat de first court\nde peoples in Marion did ever know bout meet right dere on dat same\nspot. Coase I don' know nothin bout it, but dat what I hear dem say.\"\n\n\"My Massa had a big plantation, honey, a big plantation wid heap of\ncolored people house. I remember dey call up dat way from de house on de\nhill en all de servants house set up dere. So I hear my mammy say she\nknow bout some white folks dat didn' half feed dey colored people en\ndidn' half clothe dem in de winter neither, but our white folks always\ntreat us mighty good. Put shoes on all us feet in de winter en give us\nabundance of ration all de time.\"\n\n\"Honey, I hear dem talkin bout dat war, but I can' tell you nothin bout\ndat. I recollects I see dem Yankees when dey come through my Massa\nplantation en took his best carriage horse. Had two of dem big black\ncarriage horses dat was match horses en dem Yankees carry one of dem\naway wid dem. I hear dem say de white folks would bury dey silver en\nmoney in pots en barrels to hide dem from de Yankees. Oh, dem fiddlin\nYankees ax nobody nothin. Just go in de house en take dat what dey\nwanted. Go right in de house en plunder round en take de peoples best\nthings. Wouldn' take no common things. Wasn' right, but dey done it. I\nhear talk dat a man plowed up a chest or somethin another de other day\nfull of money, so dey tells me. I hear plenty peoples plow up all kind\nof things dese days in old fields dat ain' been broke up or throwed out\nfor years. I hear so, but I know I ain' never found none though.\"\n\n\"I sho been here when dat shake come here, child. I been married ever\nsince I was a grown 'oman en I was stayin right over yonder in dat house\ndere. My son Henry was de baby on me lap den en he tell me de other day\ndat he was bout 50 now. It come like a wind right from dat way. Some\npeople tell me de ground was just a shakin en a mixin up, but I don'\nknow how de ground was doin cause I never go on it. I hear de\nlumberation comin or dat what I calls it en it come long en hit de side\nof de house so hard dat all de dishes was just a rattlin. Every time de\nearth commence shakin, dem dish start jinglin. It come bout de early\npart of de night. I didn' know what to think it was till somebody come\ndere en say it been a earthquake. Say de ground was just a workin up. I\ntell you I ain' know what it was to be scared of, but dere been de old\nArk (boarding house) standin cross de street den en dem people was\nscared most to death. Dey thought it was de Jedgment comin on. Reckon I\nwould been scared worser den I was, but I didn' get on de ground. No,\nhoney, I reckon de house dat was standin up in dat day en time was\nsubstantial like en it didn' worry none of dem.\"\n\n\"Is you seen Maggie Black any more? She been right sick, but she better\nnow. Yes, she been right puny. Don' know what ail her.\"\n\n\"Honey, what can you tell me bout dat white man dat been shoot up bout\nMullins de other day. I hear people talk bout a man been shot by another\nman, but I ain' know nothin more den dat. Ain' hear none of de details\nonly as dey tell me dey catch de man dat got away next Dillon tryin to\nget back home. I tell you it a bad place up dere in Mullins durin dis\ntobacco time. Dey tell me dere be such a stir up dat people be rob en\nshoot all bout dere. Dat de reason I stay back here whe' ain' nobody to\nworry me. Some of dem be seekin for you when you sleep en den another\ntime dey get you when you gwine long de road. I don' like so much fuss\nen rousin en mix up round me. Dat de reason I does stay here by myself.\"\n\n\"De people just livin too fast dis day en time, honey. You know some of\ndese people, I mean my race, dey got a little bit of education en ain'\ngot no manners. I tell dem if dey ain' got no manners, dey ain' got\nnothin cause manners carries people whe' a dollar won' carry you. Dis\neducation don' do everybody no good. It get some of dem standin on de\ntop of dey heads. Dat what it done to dem. Coase dey say everybody\nchillun got to go to school dis year en dat a good thing cause dere be\nso many runnin round makin mischief when dey ain' in school. I used to\ntell my chillun I buy dey book en satchel en keep plenty meat en bread\nfor dem to eat en dey portion been to go dere en get dey learnin. If dey\nget whippin at school, I tell dem go back en get more. Didn' never\nentice dem to stay home.\"\n\n\"All I know bout Abraham Lincoln was dat he Abraham Lincoln en he de one\ncause freedom. I recollect dey used to sing song bout him, but I done\nforget it now. Say dey hung Abraham Lincoln on de sour apple tree or old\nJeff Davis or somethin like dat. Honey, dat all I know. Can' recollect\nnothin more den dat bout it.\"\n\n\"Child, dis a pretty bad time de people got dese days, I tell you. Coase\nI thankful don' nobody worry me. All treats me nice, both white en\nblack, what knows me. I be gwine down de street en folks come out de\ncourthouse en say, 'Ain dat Mom Jessie? Mom Jessie, don' you remember\nme?' I say, 'I know your favor, but I can' call your name.' Dey tell me\nen laugh en let me lone. It just like dis, child, I puts my trust in de\nLord en I lives mighty peaceful like. I ain' got a enemy in de world\ncause everybody speaks appreciatively of me. Dere somebody bringin me\nsomethin to eat all de time en I don' be studyin bout it neither. First\none en den de other bring me a plate en somethin another. Don' want me\nto do no cookin. Say I might fall in de fire. Honey, de lady come by\nhere de other day en tell me I gwine get de old 'oman money pretty soon\nnow dat dere been so much talk bout. I be thankful when it get here too,\nchild, cause I wants to get first one thing en de other to do some fixin\nup bout my house.\"\n\n\"Well, honey, I tired now cause I ain' much today nohow. Can' recollect\nnothin else dis mornin. Don' know what you want to hear bout all dem\nthings for nohow.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, ex-slave, Bond Street,\n  Marion, S.C.--Third Report.\n\n  Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Sept., 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, December 7, 1937=\n\n=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 83 Years=\n\n\n\"No, I ain' cold. I settin in de sun. Miss Ida, she went by here just\nnow en call at me bout de door been open en lettin dat cold wind blow in\non my back wid all de fire gone out. I tell her, it ain' botherin me\nnone, I been settin out in de sun. Well, I don' feel much to speak bout,\nchild, but I knockin round somehow. Miss Ida, she bring me dis paper to\nstudy on. She does always be bringin me de Star cause she know dat I\nlove to see de news of Marion. It right sad bout de Presbyterian\npreacher, but everybody got to die, I say. Right sad though. We hear dat\nchurch bell here de other evenin en we never know what it been tollin\nfor. I holler over dere to Maggie house en ax her how-come de church\nbell tollin, but she couldn' tell me nothin bout it. Reckon some chillun\nhad get hold of it, she say. I tell her, dat bell never been pull by no\nchillun cause I been hear death note in it. Yes, honey, de people sho\ngwine horne (grieve) after Dr. Holladay.\"\n\n\"I say, I doin very well myself en I thankful I ain' down in de bed.\nMighty thankful I ain' down in de bed en can set up en talk wid de\npeople when dey comes to see me. I ain' been up dere on your street in a\nlong time. Can' do much walkin dese days cause I ain' got no strength to\nspeak bout. Ain' been up town dere in bout two months. Mr. Jervey ax\nJohn Evans what de matter dat I ain' been comin to de store to get my\nrations en John Evans tell him I been under de weather. Somehow another,\ndey all likes me up dere en when dey don' see me up town on Saturday,\ndey be axin bout me. Mr. Jervey, he come here de other day en bring me\nsome tobacco en syrup en cheese en some of dem other things what he know\ndat I used to buy dere. He tell me dey all was wantin to see me back up\ndere again. I say, I can' go up dere cause I give way in my limbs en\njust comes right down whe' I don' have nothin to catch to. Got dis old\nstick here dat I balances myself on when I goes out round bout de house\nhere. Cose I don' venture to steady myself no far ways on it.\"\n\n\"No, child, I ain' been up your way in a long time. I wash for Miss\nBetty all my best days, but I ain' been up to de house in many a mornin.\nMiss Betty like myself now, she old. I tell dem up dere to de house, de\nlast time I talk wid dem, don' mind Miss Betty cause her mind ain' no\ngood. I say, just gwine on en do what you got to do en let Miss Betty\nrest. You see, Miss Betty always would have her way en dis ain' no time\nto think bout breakin her neither. Cose I don' know nothin bout it, but\nMiss Betty say we bout one age.\"\n\n\"I reckon Miss Betty got plenty pecans dis year cause she does rake dem\nup by de tubfuls bout dis time of de year. I got my share of dem last\nyear, but I ain' got no mind dat I gwine get any dis year less I go up\ndere. Yes, mam, I got my share last year cause when I went to carry\nMiss Betty washin home, I could pick up all I wanted while I come\nthrough under de trees. My Lord, Miss Betty, she had a quantity of dem\nlast year, but I ain' hear what de crop doin dis year. I don' care\nthough cause I wouldn' eat dem nohow widout I beat dem up en I ain' in\nno shape to go to all dat trouble. I loves peanuts good as anybody, but\nI couldn' never chew dem widout dey was beat up.\"\n\n\"Honey, my child en her daughter comin from de northern states dis\nChristmas to see me. Her name Evelyn, but dey call her Missie. She write\nhere dat she want to come en I tell my Sammie to send word dey is\nwelcome. Cose dey gwine stay wid my son, Sammie, cause dey got more room\nden I is en dey got a cookin stove, too, but she gwine be in en out here\nwid her old mammy off en on. Yes'um, I wants to see her mighty bad since\nit be dat she been gone from here so long. When she first went up dere,\nshe worked for a white family dere to Hartford, Connecticut, but it won'\nlong fore she got in a fidget to marry en she moved dere to\nPhiladelphia. Dat whe' she livin now, so my Sammie tell me.\"\n\n\"Den dere another one of my chillun dat I say, I don' never 'spect to\nsee no more on dis side of de world. Evelina, she get married en go way\nout west to live. She de one what used to nurse Lala up dere to Miss\nOwens' house. My God, honey, she been crazy bout Lala. Don' care what\nshe been buy on a Saturday evenin, she would save some of it till\nMonday to carry to dat child. My Evelina, she always would eat en she\nused to bring Lala here wid her a heap of times to get somethin to eat.\nShe would come in en fetch her dat tin plate up dere full of corn bread\nen molasses en den she would go to puttin dem ration way. Would put her\nown mouth full en den she would cram some of it down Lala's mouth in de\nchild's belly. You see, I always would keep a nice kind of syrup in de\nsafe cause I don' like none dese kind of syrup much, but dis here ribbon\ncane syrup. My Lord, dat child would stand up dere en eat just as long\nas Evelina poke it down her. Oh, Lala been just a little thing plunderin\nbout en I tell Evelina dat she ought not to feed dat child dem coarse\nration, but she say, 'Lala want some en I gwine give it to her cause I\nloves her.' No, child, Miss Owens never didn' worry her mind bout whe'\nEvelina been carry dat child. You see, she been put trust in Evelina.\"\n\n\"I don' know what to tell you, honey. I bout like Miss Betty now. My\n'membrance short dese days. Oh, I hear talk bout all kind of signs de\npeople used to worry over en some of dem still frets bout dem, too. Hear\ntalk dat you mustn't wash none on de New Years' Day. It bad luck, so a\nheap of dem say. Den some folks say it a sign of death to hear a owl\nholler at night. Some people can' bear to hear dem, but don' no owls\nworry me, I say. Lord, Maggie, dis child ax me how a owl holler when it\na sign of death. Well, dey does holler a right good space apart. Don'\nholler right regular. I ain' hear one holler now in a long time, but I\nused to hear dem be hollerin plenty times out dere somewhe' another in\ndem trees. Say, when some people been hear dem holler on a night, dey\nwould stick a fire iron in de fire en dat would make de owl quit off. I\nhear talk bout a lot of people would do dat. Den dere another sign de\npeople does have bout de New Years' Day. Reckon dat what dey call it, I\ndon' know. No, mam, I don' understand nothin bout it, but I does hear\npeople speak bout dey craves to get a cup of peas en a hunk of hog jowl\non de first day of de year. Say, dem what put faith in dem kind of\nvictuals on de New Years' Day, dey won' suffer for nothin no time all de\nnext year. Cose I don' know, but I say dat I eats it cause I loves it.\"\n\n\"Well, child, dat bout all I know to speak bout dis evenin. It gettin so\ncold, I don' know whe' I can manage here much longer or no. Cose my\nSammie, he want me to go stay dere wid him, but I can' stand no chillun\nfuss round me no more. I tell him dese people bout here be in en out to\nax bout me right smart en I think bout I better stay here whe' dere ain'\nnobody to mind what I do. You see, honey, old people is troublesome en I\ndon' want to be noways burdensome to nobody. Yes, mam, I gwine be right\nhere waitin, if de Lord say so, de next time I see you makin up dat\npath.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, colored, Marion, S.C.\n  Personal interview by Annie R. Davis, Dec., 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 11, 1937=\n\n=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 83 Years=\n\n\n\"Good morning, honey, I ain' much today. How you is? No, I can' talk\nnothin bout dem times today. Ain' know no more den I done tell you. I\ndoin very well considerin I can' get bout like I wants to. Doin very\nwell, honey. Peoples mighty nice to me, white en black. Cose I don'\nventure to get far off de lot, I be so poorly dese days. Ain' been bout\nup town dere in a month since Saturday.\"\n\n\"Well, my chillun say for me to go live wid dem, but I don' want to go\ndown to dat other far end of de town. I tell dem dey worry me so dat I\nthink I rather be here in dis piece of house. See, I has such good\nneighbors bout me here en dere be so much a fightin en gwine on in dat\nother end of town. All de peoples speaks well of me, both white en\nblack, of dem dat knows me. Yes, mam, Miss Ellen tell me fore she die\nfor me to stay right here in dis house long as I live en ain' nobody is\ngwine worry me neither. No, child, Miss Mary Watson don' worry me, not\none speck bout dis house. Miss Mary de only child dat Miss Ellen got\nleft here. No, honey, I ain' studyin bout gwine nowhe' yet. Cose de\nhouse may fall down on me cause dat dere old kitchen over dere was good\nwhen I come here, but it rot down. Dat how-come I ain' got no stove. De\nkitchen rot down en de rain come in on de stove en rust it out. No, dey\ndon' worry me none. I tell dem I ain' got nothin, but I settin here just\nas satisfied like. Cose I may get a little pension soon, but don' know\nwhen it gwine get here. I ain' hear tell of nobody gettin it yet. I\ntell lady dat come here if I get it, it be all right en if I don' get\nit, dat be all right too.\"\n\n\"Big sale on today, ain' dere, child? I hear talk bout dey gwine sell\nall de Witcover property en all dat, but I don' know. Dey sho got a\npretty day for it. I had on my old thick sweater, but it too hot. I had\nto pull it off en put on dis here thin jacket. Can' go bout too naked,\nhoney.\"\n\n\"Yes'um, I know it was you come here de other night. Cose I can' see so\ngood, but I can hear de people voice en tell who dere time I hear dem\ncomin up dat path. You see, I don' light my lamp first night nohow, dere\nbe so much grass round here de mosquitoes comes in en worries me right\nsmart.\"\n\n\"Miss Foxworth en dem fixin to plant dey turnips over dere. Miss\nFoxworth, I likes her very well to speak. She good-hearted, kind en\nclever. She comes over en talks wid me often cause us been friends ever\nsince fore de old man been gone. Dey ain' got no kind of garden yet, but\ndey fixin to plant a fall garden out dere.\"\n\n\"No, child, I done put Miss Betty clothes down. Tell her I ain' able to\nwash no more en my Lord, Miss Betty sho hate to hear me say dat. Won'\ndat Miss Betty clothes was so hard, but it was de totin dem back en\nforth en den dere be so little bit of money in dem, didn' pay to hire\nnobody to carry dem. Cose she didn' pay me nothin worth much cause she\ndidn' never have nothin much, but a little changin of underclothes en\nbout one dress. Just had to starch bout one petticoat en one dress, but\nI can' hardly wash for myself dese days en I wouldn' never venture to do\nhers no more. No, honey, my conscience wouldn' allow me to overpower\nMiss Betty for dem little bit of somethin en dey ain' dirty neither. You\nsee, since Miss Emma been stayin dere, she in charge de house en uses\nall her tablecloths en such as dat. Miss Emma, she mighty nice to me.\nEvery time I go up dere en I ain' been doin nothin for her neither, she\nsee can she find a cup of fresh milk or somethin another to hand me.\"\n\n\"Reckon I gwine be lonesome right bout dis side next week cause all de\ncolored schools gwine be open up Monday. You see, dere be so many school\nchillun en teacher livin on dis here street. Dat child over dere say she\ngwine be home right sharp after she be finish pickin cotton next week. I\nsay I ain' be obliged to leave dis country cause my white folks wouldn'\nnever venture to come dere to dat other end of town to see me. All dese\nchillun bout here mighty good to me. Don' never let me suffer for\nnothin. Dey caution me not to risk to cook nothin over dat fireplace\ncause dey say I might tumble over en can' catch myself. No, dey tell me\ndon' do no cookin, I might fall in en burn up. No, child, I ain' chance\nto cook none on dat fireplace since I been sick. Different ones brings\nme somethin dis day en dat day. Don' suspicion nothin bout it till I see\ndem comin. Celeste over dere brings me breakfast en dinner every day en\nI don' never bother wid no supper cause I lays down too early. Den dey\nkeeps me in plenty bread en rolls en I keeps a little syrup on hand en\neats dat if I gets hungry. Dere Marguerite all de time bringin me\nsomethin, if it ain' nothin but a pitcher of ice. You see, dey makes dey\nice en it ain' costin her nothin. When I see her turn out dat piazza, I\nknow she comin here. I ain' see her today, but I lookin for her. Used to\nwash for dem too. Honey, I done a lot of work bout dis town en I don'\nsuffer for nothin. All de people bout here be good to me.\"\n\n\"No, mam, I ain' gwine let you take no more pictures. Ain' gwine take no\nmore. If Miss Montgomery say she comin here to take more pictures, tell\nher I ain' gwine take no more. No, child, I ain' studyin bout no\npictures. I don' want no more. I got one big one up dere on de wall dat\nshow me en my mammy en my son, Sammie, settin in a automobile. Dat my\npicture settin up dere wid de white blouse on. I tell dem I look like\nsomethin den, but I too old en broke up now. My daughter, she want a\npicture en she kept on after us till we went up dere to whe' de carnival\nwas. Carnival man had a automobile dat he take your picture in en we get\nin en set down en he snap de picture. I tell dem dey got one now en dat\nought to be sufficient. Dat my mammy settin dere by me. She was sho a\nfine lookin woman. Lord, Lord, honey, dem chillun love dem pictures, but\nI ain' studyin bout wantin my picture scatter all bout de country.\"\n\n\"Yes, child, I sleeps all right. Go to bed early too fore anybody else\nround here do. Yes, mam, I goes to bed early en don' never get up none\ntill I see day shine in dem cracks. I was figurin somebody else ax me\ndat de other day. Believe it was Dr. Dibble. My Sammie, he a mammy\nchild. He never stop till he send de doctor here to see could he find\nout de ailment dat seem like was eatin me way. Dr. Dibble come here en\nset down in dat chair en ax me a heap of questions. Den he test my blood\nen give me a tonic dat he say would hope me. Yes, mam, dat my Sammie\ndoctor en he goes to see him often, he does have such a misery in his\nhead. Dat de first time Dr. Dibble ever been here, but I likes he manner\nmighty well. Dr. Zack was a good doctor too. Cose dat what dey tell me,\nbut I ain' know nothin bout it. No, child, I been healthy all my days en\nI ain' had to worry bout no doctor. I tells dem when I falls down, I\nwon' last long cause I been hearty all my days.\"\n\n\"Your sister still in Dr. Dibble store (office), ain' she? Is she got a\ncook yet? Dat it, I glad she got somebody to depend on cause dese young\npeople, can' tell bout dem. Dey be one place today en den dey apt to be\nanother place de next day. I used to cook dere to lady house cross de\nstreet, but I never didn' cook no Sunday dinner dere. Dat lady been take\nin sewin en she would sew en press right on de big Sunday. I tell her\ndat a sin en she say she had to get finish somehow dat de folks was\npushin her for dey clothes. I say, 'Well, dat you, ain' me.' I go dere\non Sunday mornin en cook breakfast en clean up en put wood in de\nkitchen. Den I would go to church en left dem to cook what dinner dey\nget. Dat de reason I won' cook for none dese white folks dis day en time\ncause when dey pays you dat little bit of money, dey wants every bit\nyour time. I been proud when dat lady move from here cause I was tired\nwalkin de road back en forth. People come here en beg me to cook for\ndem, but I tell dem I gwine stay right here en do my bit of washin.\nGwine get along somehow wid it.\"\n\n\"Bethel, down dere on de other side de jail, de only church I ever been\na member of. We got to fix us church twixt now en next year. It need\nfixin bad. You see, it right on de Main street gwine down en does be\nright public out to de people. I was fixin to go to church Sunday gone,\nbut my child never come after me. My son, Sammie, never show up, but he\ncome Sunday evenin laughin. Say, 'Ma, I know if I come by your house,\nyou would want to go wid me.' No, I ain' been so I able to go in four\nSundays.\"\n\n\"Child, you ought to had brought your parasol wid you cause you been\nsettin here so long, you gwine be late gettin whe' you started. Dis here\nanother hot day we got come here.\"\n\n\"Well, good-day, child. Speak bout how you is find Maggie Black to me\nwhen you pass back long dat street dere.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, ex-slave, 83 years, Marion, S.C.\n  Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, October, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n=Project #1655=\n=W.W. Dixon=\n=Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=ROSA STARKE=\n=_EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nRosa's grandfather was a slave of Solicitor Starke. Although she has had\ntwo husbands since slavery, she has thrown their names into the discard\nand goes by the name of Rosa Starke. She lives in a three-room frame\nhouse with her son, John Harrison, two miles south of Winnsboro, S.C.,\non the plantation of Mrs. Rebecca V. Woodward. She still does farm work,\nhoeing and picking cotton.\n\n\"They say I was six years old when de war commence poppin' in\nCharleston. Mammy and pappy say dat I was born on de Graham place, one\nof de nineteen plantations of my old marster, Nick Peay, in 1854. My\npappy was name Bob and my mammy name Salina. They had b'longed to old\nMarse Tom Starke befo' old Marse Nick bought them. My brudders was name\nBob and John. I had a sister name Carrie. They was all older than me.\n\n\"My marster, Nick Peay, had nineteen places, wid a overseer and slave\nquarters on every place. Folks dat knows will tell you, dis day, dat\nthem nineteen plantations, in all, was twenty-seven thousand acres. He\nhad a thousand slaves, more or less, too many to take a census of. Befo'\nde numerator git 'round, some more would be born or bought, and de\nnominator had to be sent 'round by Marse Nick, so old Miss Martha, our\nmistress, say. Her never could know just how many 'twas. Folks used to\ncome to see her and ask how many they had and her say it was one of them\nsums in de 'rithmetic dat a body never could take a slate and pencil and\nfind out de correct answer to.\n\n\"Her was a Adamson befo' her marry old marster, a grand big buckra. Had\na grand manner; no patience wid poor white folks. They couldn't come in\nde front yard; they knowed to pass on by to de lot, hitch up deir hoss,\nand come knock on de kitchen door and make deir wants and wishes knowed\nto de butler.\n\n\"You wants me to tell 'bout what kind of house us niggers live in then?\nWell, it 'pend on de nigger and what him was doin'. Dere was just two\nclasses to de white folks, buckra slave owners and poor white folks dat\ndidn't own no slaves. Dere was more classes 'mongst de slaves. De fust\nclass was de house servants. Dese was de butler, de maids, de nurses,\nchambermaids, and de cooks. De nex' class was de carriage drivers and de\ngardeners, de carpenters, de barber, and de stable men. Then come de\nnex' class de wheelwright, wagoners, blacksmiths and slave foremen. De\nnex' class I 'members was de cow men and de niggers dat have care of de\ndogs. All dese have good houses and never have to work hard or git a\nbeatin'. Then come de cradlers of de wheat, de threshers, and de millers\nof de corn and de wheat, and de feeders of de cotton gin. De lowest\nclass was de common field niggers. A house nigger man might swoop down\nand mate wid a field hand's good lookin' daughter, now and then, for\npure love of her, but you never see a house gal lower herself by\nmarryin' and matin' wid a common field-hand nigger. Dat offend de white\nfolks, 'specially de young misses, who liked de business of match makin'\nand matin' of de young slaves.\n\n\"My young marsters was Marse Tom, Marse Nick, and Marse Austin. My young\nmisses was Miss Martha, Miss Mary, and Miss Anne Eliza. I knows Marse\nNick, Jr. marry a Cunningham of Liberty Hill. Marse Tom marry a Lyles\nand Marse Austin marry and move to Abbeville, after de war. Old marster\ndie de year befo' de war, I think, 'cause my mammy and pappy fell in de\ndivision to Marse Nick and us leave de Graham place to go to de home\nplace. It was called de Melrose place. And what a place dat was! 'Twas\non a hill, overlookin' de place where de Longtown Presbyterian Church\nand cemetery is today. Dere was thirty rooms in it and a fish pond on\ntop of it. A flower yard stretchin' clean down de hill to de big road,\nwhere de big gate, hangin' on big granite pillars, swung open to let de\ncarriages, buggies, and wagons in and up to de house.\n\n\"Can I tell you some of de things dat was in dat house when de Yankees\ncome? Golly no! Dat I can't, but I 'members some things dat would\n'stonish you as it 'stonished them. They had Marseille carpets, linen\ntable cloths, two silver candlesticks in every room, four wine\ndecanters, four nut crackers, and two coffee pots, all of them silver.\nSilver castors for pepper, salt, and vinegar bottles. All de plates was\nchina. Ninety-eight silver forks, knives, teaspoons and table-spoons.\nFour silver ladles, six silver sugar tongs, silver goblets, a silver\nmustard pot and two silver fruit stands. All de fireplaces had brass\nfiredogs and marble mantelpieces. Dere was four oil paintin's in de\nhall; each cost, so Marse Nick say, one hundred dollars. One was his ma,\none was his pa, one was his Uncle Austin and de other was of Colonel\nLamar.\n\n\"De smoke-house had four rooms and a cellar. One room, every year, was\nfilled wid brown sugar just shoveled in wid spades. In winter they would\ndrive up a drove of hogs from each plantation, kill them, scald de hair\noff them, and pack de meat away in salt, and hang up de hams and\nshoulders 'round and 'bout de smokehouse. Most of de rum and wine was\nkep' in barrels, in de cellar, but dere was a closet in de house where\nwhiskey and brandy was kep' for quick use. All back on de east side of\nde mansion was de garden and terraces, acres of sweet 'taters, water\nmillions (watermelons) and strawberries and two long rows of beehives.\n\n\"Old marster die. De 'praisers of de State come and figure dat his\nmules, niggers, cows, hogs, and things was worth $200,000.00. Land and\nhouses I disremember 'bout. They, anyhow, say de property was over a\nmillion dollars. They put a price of $1,600.00 on mammy and $1,800.00 on\npappy. I 'member they say I was worth $400.00. Young Marse Nick tell us\ndat the personal property of de estate was 'praised at $288,168.78.[A]\n\n\"De Yankees come set all de cotton and de gin-house afire. Load up all\nde meat; take some of de sugar and shovel some over de yard; take all de\nwine, rum, and liquor; gut de house of all de silver and valuables, set\nit afire, and leave one thousand niggers cold and hongry, and our white\nfolks in a misery they never has got over to de third generation of\nthem. Some of them is de poorest white folks in dis State today. I weeps\nwhen I sees them so poor, but they is 'spectable yet, thank God.\n\n\"After de war I stuck to de Peay white folks, 'til I got married to Will\nHarrison. I can't say I love him, though he was de father of all my\nchillun. My pappy, you know, was a half white man. Maybe dat explain it.\nAnyhow, when he took de fever I sent for Dr. Gibson, 'tend him faithful\nbut he die and I felt more like I was free, when I come back from de\nfuneral, than I did when Marse Abe Lincoln set us free. My brudder, Bob,\nhad done gone to Florida.\n\n\"I nex' marry, in a half-hearted way, John Pearson, to help take care of\nme and my three chillun, John, Bob, and Carrie. Him take pneumonia and\ndie, and I never have a speck of heart to marry a colored man since. I\njust have a mind to wait for de proper sort, till I git to heaven, but\ndese adult teachers 'stroy dat hope. They read me dat dere is no\nmarryin' in heaven. Well, well, dat'll be a great disappointment to some\nI knows, both white and black, and de ginger-cake women lak me.\n\n\"Is I got any more to tell you? Just dis: Dere was 365 windows and doors\nto Marse Nick Peay's house at Melrose, one for every day in de year, my\nmistress 'low. And dere was a peach tree in de orchard so grafted dat\ndat peach tree have ripe peaches on it in May, June, July, August,\nSeptember, and October.\"\n\n\n[A] Probate records of Fairfield County. See Roll 110 of the Judge of\nProbate for Fairfield County.\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=JOSEPHINE STEWART=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 85 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nPhinie Stewart, as she is known in the community where she lives, is a\nsmall, black negress, who shows her age in appearance and movements. She\nlives with Robert Wood, a hundred yards back of the Presbyterian Church\nmanse at Blackstock, S.C. Robert Wood married Phinie's niece, who is now\ndeceased. Phinie has no property, and depends entirely on the charity of\nRobert Wood for her support.\n\n\"Does you know where de old Bell House is, about a mile de other side of\nBlackstock, on de Chester road? Yes? Well, dere is where I was borned,\nin May, 1853.\n\n\"I doesn't know who my pappy was. You know in them times folks wasn't\nparticular 'bout marriage licenses and de preacher tying de knot and all\ndat kind of thing. But I does know mammy's name. Her name was Celie.\nDese eyes of mine is dim but I can see her now, stooping over de wash\ntub and washing de white folks' clothes every Monday and Tuesday.\n\n\"Us belonged to Marster Charlie Bell and his lady, Miss Maggie Bell, our\nmistress in them slavery days. Does I 'member who Miss Maggie was befo'\nher married Marster Charlie? Sure I does. Mistress was a daughter of\nMiss Anne Jane Neil, who lived to be a hundred and five years old, and\nits writ on her tombstone in Concord Cemetery. I 'spect you has seen it,\nain't you? Old Miss Anne Neil was a Irish lady, born in Ireland across\nde ocean. She had a silver snuff box; I seen it. She'd take snuff out\ndat box, rub it up her nose and say: 'De Prince of Whales (Wales) give\nme dis box befo' I come to dis country, and I was presented to his ma,\nQueen Victoria, by de Duke of Wellington on my sixteenth birthday.' Old\nMiss Anne Neil claims she was born over dere de very night of de battle\nof Waterloo. And she would go on and 'low dat when de duke took her by\nde hand and led her up to de queen, him say: 'Your Majesty, dis young\nlady was born on de night of our great victory at Waterloo.'\n\n\"My young mistress was named Miss Margaret. She married Marse Wade\nBrice. I was give to them when I was 'bout five years old and I went\nalong with them to Woodward, S.C. My mammy was give to them, too, at de\nsame time. Us lived in Marse Wade's quarter, to de east of de white\nfolks' house. Dere was a row of log houses, 'bout ten I think. Mammy and\nme lived in one dat had two rooms. De chimney was made of sticks and\nmud, but de floor was a good plank floor. De bed was a wood bedstead wid\na wheat straw tick. Dere was no windows to de house, so it was warm in\nde winter time and blue blazing hot in de summer time.\n\n\"My white folks was mighty good to us; they fed us well. Us had wooden\nshoes and no clothes a-tall in de summer, 'cept a one-piece slip on. My\nmistress die 'bout a year after her marry, and then Marster Wade marry\nMiss Tilda Watson, a perfect angel, if dere ever was one on dis red\nearth. She take a liking to me right at de jump, on first sight. I\nnussed all her chillun. They was Walter, Ida, Dickey, Lunsford, Wade,\nMike, and Wilson. Then I nussed some of her grandchillun. Mr. Brice\nWaters in Columbia is one of them grandchillun.\n\n\"Marse Wade went off to de war and got shot in de hip, but he jined de\ncalvary (cavalry) soon after and was away when de Yankees come through.\nDe Yankees burned and stole everything on de place. They took off all de\nsheep, mules, and cows; killed all de hogs; cotch all de chickens, ducks\nand geese; and shot de turkeys and tied them to deir saddles as they\nleft. De gin-house made de biggest blaze I ever has seen. Dere was short\nrations for all de white folks and niggers after dat day.\n\n\"In 1870 I was still dere wid Marse Wade and Miss Tilda, when de devil\ncome along in de shape, form, and fashion of a man. He was name Simon\nHalleg. I was young then, and a fool, when I married dat no 'count\nnigger. Us had two chillun, a boy, Allen, and a girl, Louise. Louise\nsickened and died befo' she was grown. Allen married and had one child,\nbut him and de child are dead. My husband run away and left us.\n\n\"About de time of de great cyclone, Miss Tatt Nicholson, a cousin of\nMiss Tilda, come down and took me to Chester, to be a maid at de\nNicholson Hotel. I liked de work, but I got many a scare while I was\ndere. In them days every hotel had a bar where they would mix whiskey\nand lemons. Men could just walk up, put deir foots on de brass rail of\nde bar counter and order what they want, and pay fifteen cents a drink.\nSometimes they would play cards all night in de bar. One night an old\ngent stopped his wagon, dat had four bales of cotton on it, befo' de\nhotel. He come in to get a drink, saw a game going on and took a hand.\nBefo' bed time he had lost all his money and de four bales of cotton\noutside.\n\n\"No, I didn't work in slavery times. Chillun didn't have to work. De\nonly thing I 'members doing was minding de flies off de table wid a\nbrush made out of peacock tail-feathers.\n\n\"All de slaves had to go to church at Concord twice every month and\nlearn de Shorter Catechism. I has one of them books now, dat I used\nseventy-five years ago. Want to see it? (She exhibits catechism printed\nin 1840 for slaves.)\n\n\"I left de hotel and come back to Miss Tilda Brice. I married Jacob\nStewart then, and he was a good man. Us had no chillun. He been gone to\nglory eight years, bless God.\n\n\"Yes, sir, I 'members de earthquake. It set a heap of people to praying\ndat night. Even de cows and chickens got excited. I thought de end of de\nworld had come. I jined de Red Hill Baptist Church then, but my\nmembership is now at de Cross Roads Baptist Church. Brother Wright, de\npastor, comes to see me, as I'm too feeble to gallivant so far to\nchurch.\n\n\"Dis house b'longs to Joe Rice. My nephew rents from him and is good\nenough, though a poor man, to take care of me.\n\n\"Please do all you can to get de good President, de Governor, or\nsomebody to hasten up my old age pension dat I'm praying for.\"\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 near old Bush River Baptist Church in Newberry County, S.C.\nThis was the white folks' church, but the colored folks have a Bush\nRiver church in that section now. I was grown when the war started. I\nwas a slave of Bonny Floyd. He was a good man who owned several slaves\nand a big farm. I was the house-girl then, and waited on the table and\nhelped around the house. I was always told to go to the white folks'\nchurch and sit in the gallery.\n\n\"When the Patrollers was started there, they never did bother Mr.\nBonny's slaves. He never had any trouble with them, for his slaves never\nrun away from him.\n\n\"The Ku Klux never come to our place, and I don't remember seeing them\nin that section.\n\n\"We took our wheat to Singley's Mill on Bush River to be ground. We made\nall our flour and grain. We plowed with horses and mules.\n\n\"I am an old woman, sick in bed and can't talk good; but glad to tell\nyou anything I can.\"\n\n\n Source: Bettie Suber (96), 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, S.C.=\n =May 25, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I was born on the Enoree River in Newberry County. Tom Price was my\nmaster. I married Nathan Swindler when I was about grown. My father and\nmother was Dave and Lucy Coleman. I had a brother and several sisters.\nWe children had to work around the home of our master 'till we was old\nenough to work in de fields, den we would hoe and pick cotton, and do\nany kinds of field work. We didn't have much clothes, just one dress and\na pair of shoes at a time, and maybe one change. I married in a ole silk\nstriped dress dat I got from my mistress, Miss Sligh. We had no\n'big-to-do' at our wedding, just married at home. In cold weather, I had\nsometimes, heavy homespun or outing dress. When Saturday afternoons\ncome, we got off from work and do what we want. Some of us washed for de\nweek. We had no schools and couldn't read and write. Sometimes we could\nplay in our yards after work was over or on Saturday afternoons. On\nChristmas the master give us something good to eat. We didn't have\ndoctors much, but de ole folks had cures for sickness. Dey made\ncherry-bark tea for chills and fever, and root-herb teas for fevers.\nLots of chills and fevers then. To cure a boil or wart, we would take a\nhair from the tail of a horse and tie it tight around both sides of the\nsore place. I think Abe Lincoln was a great man, and Jeff Davis was a\ngood man too. I think Booker Washington was a great man for de colored\nrace. I like it better now than de way it was in slavery time.\"\n\n\n  Source: Ellen Swindler (78), Newberry. S.C. Interviewed by:\n  G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C., May 20, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon,=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=MACK TAYLOR=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 97 YEARS._=\n\n\nMack Taylor lives six miles southeast of Ridgeway, S.C., on his farm of\nninety-seven acres. The house, in which he resides, is a frame house\ncontaining six rooms, all on one floor. His son, Charley, lives with\nhim. Charley is married and has a small family.\n\n\"Howdy do sir! I sees you a good deal goin' backwards and forwards to\nColumbia. I has to set way back in de bus and you sets up to de front. I\ncan't ketch you to speak to you, as you is out and gone befo' I can lay\nhold of you. But, as Brer Fox 'lowed to Brer Rabbit, when he ketched him\nwid a tar baby at a spring, 'I is got you now.'\n\n\"I's been wantin' to ask you 'bout dis old age pension. I's been to\nWinnsboro to see 'bout it. Some nice white ladies took my name and ask\nme some questions, but dat seem to be de last of it. Reckon I gwine to\nget anything?\n\n\"Well, I's been here mighty nigh a hundred years, and just 'cause I\npinched and saved and didn't throw my money away on liquor, or put it\ninto de palms of every Jezabel hussy dat slant her eye at me, ain't no\nvaluable reason why them dat did dat way and 'joyed deirselves can get\nde pension and me can't get de pension. 'Tain't fair! No, sir. If I had\na knowed way back yonder, fifty years ago, what I knows now, I might of\ngallavanted 'round a little more wid de shemales than I did. What you\nthink 'bout it?\n\n\"You say I's forgittin' dat religion must be thought about? Well, I can\nread de Bible a little bit. Don't it say: 'What you sow you sure to\nreap?' Yes, sir. Us niggers was fetched here 'ginst our taste. Us fell\nde forests for corn, wheat, oats, and cotton; drained de swamps for\nrice; built de dirt roads and de railroads; and us old ones is got a\nfair right to our part of de pension.\n\n\"My marster, in slavery times, lived on de Wateree River. He had a large\nplantation and, I heard them say, four hundred slaves. He was a hard\nmarster and had me whipped as many times as I got fingers and toes. I\nstarted workin' in de field when I was a boy fifteen years old. De work\nI done was choppin' de grass out of de cotton and pickin' de cotton.\nWhat's become of them old army worms dat had horns, dat us chillun was\nso scared of while pickin' cotton? I never see them dese days but I'd\nrather have them than dis boll weevil I's pestered wid.\n\n\"My marster's name was Tom Clark. My mistress was a gentle lady, but\nfield niggers never got to speak to her. All I can say is dat de house\nslaves say she was mighty good to them. I saw de chillun of de white\nfolks often and was glad they would play wid us colored chillun. What\ndeir names? Dere was Marse Alley, Marse Ovid, Marse Hilliard, and Miss\nLucy.\n\n\"Old marster got kilt in de last year of de war, and Miss Margaret, dat\nwas our Mistress, run de place wid overseers dat would thrash you for\nall sorts of things. If they ketch you leanin' on your hoe handle,\nthey'd beat you; step out of your task a minute or speak to a girl,\nthey'd beat you. Oh, it was hell when de overseers was around and de\nmistress nor none of de young marsters was dere to protect you. Us was\nfed good, but not clothed so good in de winter time.\n\n\"My pappy didn't b'long to de Clarks at de commencement of de war. Old\nmarster done sold him, 'way from us, to Col. Tom Taylor in Columbia.\nAfter de war, he run a shoe repair shop in Columbia many years befo' he\ndied. His name was Douglas Taylor and dat is de reason I took de name,\nMack Taylor, when I give in my name to de Freedman's Bureau, and I's\nstuck to it ever since.\n\n\"I members de Yankees. Not many of them come to Miss Margaret's place.\nThem dat did, took pity on her and did nothing but eat, feed deir\nhorses, and gallop away.\n\n\"Us was never pestered by de Ku Klux, but I was given a warnin' once, to\nwatch my step and vote right. I watched my step and didn't vote a-tall,\ndat year.\n\n\"Mr. Franklin J. Moses was runnin' for governor. Colored preachers was\npreachin' dat he was de Moses to lead de Negroes out of de wilderness of\ncorn bread and fat grease into de land of white bread and New Orleans\nmolasses. De preachers sure got up de excitement 'mongst de colored\nwomen folks. They 'vised them to have nothin' to do wid deir husbands if\nthey didn't go to de 'lection box and vote for Moses. I didn't go, and\nmy wife wouldn't sleep wid me for six months. I had no chillun by her.\nShe died in 1874. After Nancy die, I marry Belle Dawkins. De chillun us\nhad was George, Charley, Maggie and Tommy. Then Belle died, and I\nmarried Hannah Cunningham. Us had no chillun. After she died, I marry a\nwidow, Fannie Goings, and us had no chillun.\n\n\"My son, George, is in Washington. My daughter, Maggie, is dead. Tommy\nwas in Ohio de last I heard from him. I is livin' wid my son, Charley,\non my farm. My grandson, Mack, is a grown boy and de main staff I lean\non as I climb up to de hundred mile post of age.\n\n\"I b'longs to de Rehovah Baptist Church. I have laid away four wives in\ndeir graves. I have no notion of marryin' any more. Goodness and mercy\nhave followed me all de days of my life, and I will soon take up dis old\nbody and dwell in de house of de Lord forevermore.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=DELIA THOMPSON=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\n\"I's heard tell of you, and sent for you to come to see me. Look lak I\ncan no more git 'bout on dese under pins lak I use to. Dere's de swing\nyou can set in or chair right by me, now which you rather? I's glad you\ntakes de chair, 'cause I can keep steady gaze more better on dat face of\nyour'n. Lord! I been here in dis world a long time, so I has. Was born\non de Kilgo place near Liberty Hill, don't know what county 'tis, but\nheard it am over twenty-five miles from dis town.\n\n\"My old marster name Jesse Kilgo, so he was, and Mistress Letha Kilgo,\ndats his wife, good to him, good to me, good to everybody. My young\nmistress name Catherine, when her marry Marster Watt Wardlaw, I was give\nto them for a housemaid, 'cause I was trim and light complected lak you\nsee I is dis very day a setting right here, and talking wid you.\n'Members how 'twas young missie say: 'You come go in my room Delia, I\nwants to see if I can put up wid you'. I goes in dat room, winter time\nmind you, and Miss Charlotte set down befo' de fire, cook one of them\npretty foots on de dog, don't you ketch dat wrong, dat it was a lap dog\nwhich 'twasn't but one of de fire-dogs. Some persons calls them andy\nirons (andiron) but I sticks to my raisin' and say fire-dogs. Well, she\nallowed to me, 'Delia, put kettle water on de fire'. So I does in a\njiffy. Her next command was: 'Would you please be so kind as to sweep\nand tidy up de room'? All time turnin' dat lovely head of her'n lak a\nbird a buildin' her nest, so it was. I do all dat, then she say: 'You is\ngoin' to make maid, a good one!' She give a silvery giggle and say: 'I\njust had you put on dat water for to see if you was goin' to make any\nslop. No, No! You didn't spill a drop, you ain't goin' to make no\nsloppy maid, you just fine.' Then her call her mother in. 'See how\npretty Delia's made dis room, look at them curtains, draw back just\nright, observe de pitcher, and de towels on de rack of de washstand, my\nI'm proud of her!' She give old mistress a hug and a kiss, and thank her\nfor de present, dat present was me. De happiness of dat minute is on me\nto dis day.\n\n\"My pappy name Isom then, but when freedom come he adds on Hammond. His\npappy was a white man, and no poor white trash neither. My mammy name\nViny. Us live in a log house close up in de back yard, and most all time\nI was in de big house waiting on de white folks.\n\n\"Did us git any 'ligion told us? Well, it was dis way, mistress talk\nheap to us 'bout de Lord, but marster talk a heap to us 'bout de devil.\n'Twist and 'tween them, 'spect us heard most everything 'bout heaven and\nall 'bout de devil.\n\n\"Yankees dat come to our house was gentleman, they never took a thing,\nbut left provisions for our women folks from their commissary.\n\n\"My first husband was Cupid Benjamin. My white folks give me a white\ndress, and they got de white Baptist preacher, Mr. Collins to do de\ngrand act for us. Cupid turned out to be a preacher. Us had three\nchillun and every night us had family worship at home. I's been no\ncommon nigger all my life; why, when a child I set up and rock my doll\njust lak white chillun, and course it was a rag doll, but what of dat.\nCouldn't I name her for de Virgin Mary, and wouldn't dat name cover and\nglorify de rags? Sure it would! Then I 'sociate wid white folks all\nslavery time, marry a man of God and when he die, I marry another, Tom\nThompson, a colored Baptist preacher. You see dat house yonder? Dats\nwhere my daughter and grandchillun live. They is colored aristocracy of\nde town, but they has a mighty plain name, its just Smith. I grieve over\nit off and on, a kind of thorn in de flesh, my husband used to say. But\nboth my husbands dead and I sets here twice a widow, and I wonders how\n'twill be when I go home up yonder 'bove them white thunder heads us can\nsee right now. Which one them men you reckon I'll see first? Well, if it\nbe dat way, 'spect I'll just want to see Cupid first, 'cause he was de\nonly one I had chillun by, and them his grandchillun out yonder.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=ROBERT TOATLEY=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nRobert Toatley lives with his daughter, his son, his son's wife, and\ntheir six children, near White Oak, seven miles north of Winnsboro, S.C.\nRobert owns the four-room frame house and farm containing 235 acres. He\nhas been prosperous up from slavery, until the boll weevil made its\nappearance on his farm and the depression came on the country at large,\nin 1929. He has been compelled to mortgage his home but is now coming\nforward again, having reduced the mortgage to a negligible balance,\nwhich he expects to liquidate with the present 1937 crop of cotton.\n\nRobert is one of the full blooded Negroes of pure African descent. His\nface, in repose, possesses a kind of majesty that one would expect in\nbeholding a chief of an African tribe.\n\n\"I was born on de 'Lizabeth Mobley place. Us always called it 'Cedar\nShades'. Dere was a half mile of cedars on both sides of de road leading\nto de fine house dat our white folks lived in. My birthday was May 15,\n1855. My mistress was a daughter of Dr. John Glover. My master married\nher when her was twelve years old. Her first child, Sam, got to be a\ndoctor, and they sho' did look lak brother and sister. When her oldest\nchild, Sam, come back from college, he fetched a classmate, Jim\nCarlisle, wid him. I played marbles wid them. Dat boy, Jim, made his\nmark, got 'ligion, and went to de top of a college in Spartanburg. Marse\nSam study to be a doctor. He start to practice and then he marry Miss\nLizzie Rice down in Barnwell. Mistress give me to them and I went wid\nthem and stayed 'til freedom.\n\n\"My childhood was a happy one, a playin' and a rompin' wid de white\nchillun. My master was rich. Slaves lived in quarters, 300 yards from de\nbig house. A street run through the quarters, homes on each side. Beds\nwas homemade. Mattresses made of wheat straw. Bed covers was quilts and\ncounter-panes, all made by slave women.\n\n\"My mammy's pappy was a slave brick-mason, b'longin' to a white family\nnamed Partillo, from Warrington, Virginia. He couldn't be bought 'less\nyou bought his wife and three chillun wid him.\n\n\"Never had any money; didn't know what it was. Mammy was a house woman,\nand I got just what de white chillun got to eat, only a little bit\nlater, in de kitchen. Dere was fifty or sixty other little niggers on de\nplace. Want to know how they was fed? Well, it was lak dis: You've seen\npig troughs, side by side, in a big lot? After all de grown niggers eat\nand git out de way, scraps and everything eatable was put in them\ntroughs; sometimes buttermilk poured on de mess and sometimes potlicker.\nThen de cook blowed a cow horn. Quick as lightnin' a passle of fifty or\nsixty little niggers run out de plum bushes, from under de sheds and\nhouses, and from everywhere. Each one take his place, and souse his\nhands in de mixture and eat just lak you see pigs shovin' 'round slop\ntroughs. I see dat sight many times in my dreams, old as I is,\neighty-two years last Saturday.\n\n\"'Twas not 'til de year of '66 dat we got 'liable info'mation and felt\nfree to go where us pleased to go. Most of de niggers left but mammy\nstayed on and cooked for Dr. Sam and de white folks.\n\n\"Bad white folks comed and got bad niggers started. Soon things got\nwrong and de devil took a hand in de mess. Out of it come to de top, de\ncarpetbag, de scalawags and then de Ku Klux. Night rider come by and\ndrap something at your door and say: 'I'll just leave you something for\ndinner'. Then ride off in a gallop. When you open de sack, what you\nreckon in dere? Liable to be one thing, liable to be another. One time\nit was six nigger heads dat was left at de door. Was it at my house\ndoor? Oh, no! It was at de door of a nigger too active in politics. Old\nCongressman Wallace sent Yankee troops, three miles long, down here. Lot\nof white folks was put in jail.\n\n\"I married Emma Greer in 1879; she been dead two years. Us lived husband\nand wife 56 years, bless God. Us raised ten chillun; all is doin' well.\nOne is in Winnsboro, one in Chester, one in Rock Hill, one in Charlotte,\none in Chesterfield, one in New York and two wid me on de farm near\nWhite Oak, which I own. I has 28 grandchillun. All us Presbyterians. Can\nread but can't write. Our slaves was told if ever they learned to write\nthey'd lose de hand or arm they wrote wid.\n\n\"What 'bout whuppin's? Plenty of it. De biggest whuppin' I ever heard\ntell of was when they had a trial of several slave men for sellin'\nliquor at da spring, durin' preachin', on Sunday. De trial come off at\nde church 'bout a month later. They was convicted, and de order of de\ncourt was: Edmund to receive 100 lashes; Sam and Andy each 125 lashes\nand Frank and Abram 75 lashes. All to be given on deir bare backs and\nrumps, well laid on wid strap. If de courts would sentence like dat dese\ndays dere'd be more 'tention to de law.\n\n\"You ask me 'bout Mr. Lincoln. I knowed two men who split rails side by\nside wid him. They was Mr. McBride Smith and Mr. David Pink. Poor white\npeople 'round in slavery time had a hard tine, and dese was two of them.\n\n\"My white folks, de Mobleys, made us work on Sunday sometime, wid de\nfodder, and when de plowin' git behind. They mighty neighborly to rich\nneighbors but didn't have much time for poor buckra. I tell you poor\nwhite men have poor chance to rise, make sump'n and be sump'n, befo' de\nold war. Some of dese same poor buckra done had a chance since then and\nthey way up in 'G' now. They mighty nigh run de county and town of\nWinnsboro, plum mighty nigh it, I tell you. It makes me sad, on de other\nside, to see quality folks befo' de war, a wanderin' 'round in rags and\ntatters and deir chillun beggin' bread.\n\n\"Well, I mus' be goin', but befo' I goes I want to tell you I 'members\nyour ma, Miss Sallie Woodward. Your grandpa was de closest neighbor and\nfust cousin to Dr. Sam. Deir chillun used to visit. Your ma come down\nand spen' de day one time. She was 'bout ten dat day and she and de\nchillun make me rig up some harness for de billy goat and hitch him to a\ntoy wagon. I can just see dat goat runnin' away, them little chillun\nfallin' out backside de wagon and your ma laughin' and a cryin' 'bout de\nsame time. I picks her up out de weeds and briars.\"\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=SLAVERY REMINISCENCES=\n\n\n\"I was born in the town of Newberry, S.C. I do not remember slavery\ntime, but I have heard my father and mother talk about it. They were\nWashington and Polly Holloway, and belonged to Judge J.B. O'Neall. They\nlived about 3 miles west of town, near Bush River. An old colored man\nlived nearby. His name was Harry O'Neall, and everybody said he was a\nmiser and saved up his money and buried it near the O'Neall spring.\nSomebody dug around there but never found any money. There were two\nsprings, one was called 'horse spring', but the one where the money was\nsupposed to be buried had a big tree by it.\n\n\"I married Sam Veals, in 'gravel town' of Newberry. I had a brother,\nRiley, and some sisters.\n\n\"We would eat fish, rabbits, 'possums and squirrels which folks caught\nor killed. We used to travel most by foot, going sometimes ten miles to\nany place. We walked to school, three or four miles, every day when I\nwas teaching school after the war. I was taught mostly at home, by Miss\nSallie O'Neall, a daughter of Judge J.B. O'Neall.\n\n\"My father and mother used to go to the white folks' church, in slavery\ntime. After the war colored churches started. The first one in our\nsection was Brush Harbor. Simon Miller was a fine colored preacher who\npreached in Brush Harbor on Vandalusah Spring Hill. Isaac Cook was a\ngood preacher. We used to sing, 'Gimme dat good ole-time religion'; 'I'm\ngoing to serve God until I die' and 'I am glad salvation is free'.\n\n\"Saturday afternoons we had 'off' and could work for ourselves. At\nmarriages, we had frolics and big dinners. Some of the games were: rope\njumping; hide and seek, and, ring around the roses. Of course, there\nwere more games.\n\n\"Some of the old folks used to see ghosts, but I never did see any.\n\n\"Cures were made with herbs such as, peach tree leaves, boiled as a tea\nand drunk for fevers. Rabbit tobacco (life everlasting) was used for\ncolds. Small boys would chew and smoke it, as did some of the old folks.\n\n\"I have seven children, all grown; fourteen grand-children, and several\ngreat-grand-children.\n\n\"Judge O'Neall was one of the best men and best masters in the country\nthat I knew of. I think Abraham Lincoln was a good man, according to\nwhat I have heard about him. Jeff Davis was the same. Booker Washington\nwas a great man to his country and served the colored race.\n\n\"I joined the church because I believe the bible is true, and according\nto what it says, the righteous are the only people God is pleased with.\nWithout holiness no man shall see God.\"\n\n\n  Source: Mary Veals (72), Newberry, S.C. Interviewed by: G.L.\n  Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 20, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =Folklore=\n =Spartanburg, Dist. 4=\n =Oct. 21, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I don't own no house. I live in a rented house. Yes, I work fer my\nliving. I don't 'member much 'bout slavery except what I heard my daddy\nand mammy say. My pa was Washing Holloway and my ma was Polly Holloway.\nDey belonged to Judge O'Neall, and lived at his place 'bout three miles\nfrom town, near Bush River.\n\n\"Judge O'Neall's house was real old, and dey had a store near it called\nSpringfield, a kind of suburb at dat time.\n\n\"After de war, we didn't have much clothes, 'cause everything was so\nhigh. Judge O'Neall died befo' de war was over, and his wife went to\nMississippi to live wid her married daughter. After de war, Miss Sallie,\nwho was Judge O'Neall's daughter, learn't me to read and write, and\nother things in books.\n\n\"My father and mother went to de white folks' church in slavery time.\nAfter de war, de negroes built deir first church and called it a 'brush\narbor'. A negro preacher named Simon Miller was a good man and done lots\nof good when he preached in de brush arbor. Dis was on de old Banduslian\nSprings hill, near de south fork of Scotts Creek.\"\n\n\n  Source: Mary Veals (73), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (9/30/37).\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=MANDA WALKER=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 80 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nManda Walker lives with her son-in-law, Albert Cooper, in a three-room\nframe cottage in Winnsboro, S.C. Albert's first wife was her daughter,\nSallie. Five of their children and Albert's second wife, Sadie, occupy\nthe house with Albert and Manda.\n\n\"Does you know where Horse Crick (Creek) branch is, and where Wateree\nCrick is? Ever been 'long de public road 'tween them water courses?\nWell, on de sunrise side of dat road, up on a hill, was where my slavery\ntime marster live.\n\n\"I was born in de yard, back of de white folks' house, in a little log\nhouse wid a dirt floor and a stick and mud chimney to one end of de\nhouse. My marster was name Marse Tom Rowe and my mistress name Missy\nJane Rowe. They de ones dat tell me, long time ago, dat I was born befo'\nde war, in 1857. Deir chillun was Miss Mary and Miss Miami.\n\n\"I no work much 'til de end of de war. Then I pick cotton and peas and\nshell corn and peas. Most of de time I play and sometime be maid to my\nyoung misses. Both growed into pretty buxom ladies. Miss Miami was a\nhandsome buxom woman; her marry Marse Tom Johnson and live, after de\nwar, near Wateree Church.\n\n\"My pappy name Jeff and b'long to Marse Joe Woodward. He live on a\nplantation 'cross de other side of Wateree Crick. My mammy name Phoebe.\nPappy have to git a pass to come to see mammy, befo' de war. Sometime\ndat crick git up over de bank and I, to dis day, 'members one time pappy\ncome in all wet and drenched wid water. Him had made de mule swim de\ncrick. Him stayed over his leave dat was writ on de pass. Patarollers\n(patrollers) come ask for de pass. They say: 'De time done out,\nnigger.' Pappy try to explain but they pay no 'tention to him. Tied him\nup, pulled down his breeches, and whupped him right befo' mammy and us\nchillun. I shudder, to dis day, to think of it. Marse Tom and Miss Jane\nheard de hollerin' of us all and come to de place they was whuppin' him\nand beg them, in de name of God, to stop, dat de crick was still up and\ndangerous to cross, and dat they would make it all right wid pappy's\nmarster. They say of pappy: 'Jeff swim 'cross, let him git de mule and\nswim back.' They make pappy git on de mule and follow him down to de\ncrick and watch him swim dat swif' muddly crick to de other side. I\noften think dat de system of patarollers and bloodhounds did more to\nbring on de war and de wrath of de Lord than anything else. Why de good\nwhite folks put up wid them poor white trash patarollers I never can see\nor understand. You never see classy white buckra men a paterrollin'. It\nwas always some low-down white men, dat never owned a nigger in deir\nlife, doin' de patarollin' and a strippin' de clothes off men, lak\npappy, right befo' de wives and chillun and beatin' de blood out of him.\nNo, sir, good white men never dirty deir hands and souls in sich work of\nde devil as dat.\n\n\"Mammy had nine chillun. All dead 'cept Oliver. Him still down dere wid\nde Duke Power Company people, I think. When I come sixteen years old,\nlak all gals dat age, I commence to think 'bout de boys, and de boys, I\n'spects, commence to take notice of me. You look lak you is surprised I\nsay dat. You is just puttin' on. Old and solemn as you is, a settin'\ndere a writin', I bets a whole lot of de same foolishness have run\nthrough your head lak it run through Jerry's, when he took to goin' wid\nme, back in 1873. Now ain't it so?\n\n\"Us chillun felt de pivations (privations) of de war. Us went in rags\nand was often hungry. Food got scarce wid de white folks, so much had to\nbe given up for de army. De white folks have to give up coffee and tea.\nDe slaves just eat corn-bread, mush, 'taters and buttermilk. Even de\npeas was commanded for de army. Us git meat just once a week, and then a\nmighty little of dat. I never got a whuppin' and mammy never did git a\nwhuppin'.\n\n\"Us all went to Wateree Presbyterian Church on Sunday to hear Mr.\nDouglas preach. Had two sermons and a picnic dinner on de ground 'tween\nde sermons. Dat was a great day for de slaves. What de white folks lef'\non de ground de slaves had a right to, and us sure enjoy de remains and\nbless de Lord for it. Main things he preached and prayed for, was a\nsuccess in de end of de war, so mammy would explain to us when us\n'semble 'round de fireside befo' us go to bed. Her sure was a Christian\nand make us all kneel down and say two prayers befo' us git in bed. De\nlast one was:\n\n    'Now I lay me down to sleep,\n    I pray de Lord my soul to keep.\n    If I should die befo' I wake,\n    I pray de Lord my soul to take.\n    Bless pappy, bless mammy,\n    Bless marster, bless missie,\n    And bless me. Amen!'\n\n\"Wheeler's men was just as hard and wolfish as de Yankees. They say de\nYankees was close behind them and they just as well take things as to\nleave all for de Yankees. 'Spect dat was true, for de Yankees come nex'\nday and took de rest of de hog meat, flour, and cows. Had us to run down\nand ketch de chickens for them. They search de house for money, watches,\nrings, and silverware. Took everything they found, but they didn't set\nde house afire. Dere was just 'bout five of them prowlin' 'round 'way\nfrom de main army, a foragin', they say.\n\n\"When Miss Margaret marry, old marster sold out and leave de county. Us\nmove to Mr. Wade Rawls' and work for him from 1876 to Jerry's death. Is\nI told you dat I marry Jerry? Well, I picked out Jerry Walker from a\nbaker's dozen of boys, hot footin' it 'bout mammy's door step, and us\nnever had a cross word all our lives. Us had nine chillun. Us moved\n'round from pillar to post, always needy but always happy. Seem lak us\nnever could save anything on his $7.06 a month and a peck of meal and\nthree pounds of meat a week.\n\n\"When de chillun come on, us try rentin' a farm and got our supplies on\na crop lien, twenty-five percent on de cash price of de supplies and\npaid in cotton in de fall. After de last bale was sold, every year, him\ncome home wid de same sick smile and de same sad tale: 'Well, Mandy, as\nusual, I settled up and it was--'Naught is naught and figger is a\nfigger, all for de white man and none for de nigger.'\n\n\"De grave and de resurrection will put everything all right, but I have\na instinct dat God'll make it all right over and up yonder and dat all\nour 'flictions will, in de long run, turn out to our 'ternal welfare and\nhappiness.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=NED WALKER=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nNed Walker lives in the village of White Oak, near Winnsboro, S.C., in a\ntwo-room frame house, the dwelling of his son-in-law, Leander Heath, who\nmarried his daughter, Nora. Ned is too old to do any work of a\nremunerative character but looks after the garden and chickens of his\ndaughter and son-in-law. He is a frequent visitor to Winnsboro, S.C. He\nbrings chickens and garden produce, to sell in the town and the\nWinnsboro Hill's village. He is tall, thin, and straight, with kind\neyes. Being one of the old Gaillard Negroes, transplanted from the\nSantee section of Berkeley County, in the Low Country, to the red hills\nof Fairfield County, in the Up Country, he still retains words and\nphrases characteristic of the Negro in the lower part of South Carolina.\n\n\"Yes sir, I's tall and slim lak a saplin'; maybe dat a good reason I\nlive so long. Doctor say lean people lives longer than fat people.\n\n\"I hear daddy read one time from de Bible 'bout a man havin' strength of\nyears in his right hand and honor and riches in his left hand, but\nwhenever I open dat left hand dere is nothin' in it. 'Spect dat promise\nis comin' tho', when de old age pension money gits down here from\nWashington. When you 'spect it is comin'? De palm of my hand sho' begin\nto itch for dat greenback money. So you think it's on de way? Well,\nthank God for dat but it seem 'most too good to be true. Now I'll quit\naskin' questions and just set here and smoke and answer, whilst you do\nde puttin' down on de paper.\n\n\"Yes sir, I was born right here in de southeast corner of Winnsboro, on\nde Clifton place. De day I was born, it b'long to my master, David\nGaillard. Miss Louisa, dats Master David's wife, 'low to me one day,\n'Ned don't you ever call de master, old master, and don't you ever\nthink of me as old miss'. I promise her dat I keep dat always in mind,\nand I ain't gonna change, though she done gone on to heaven and is in de\nchoir a singin' and a singin' them chants dat her could pipe so pretty\nat St. Johns, in Winnsboro. You see they was 'Piscopalians. Dere was no\nhard shell Baptist and no soft shell Methodist in deir make up. It was\nall glory, big glory, glory in de very highest rung of Jacob's ladder,\nwid our white folks.\n\n\"Well, how I is ramblin'. You see dere was Master David and Mistress\nLouisa, de king bee and de queen bee. They had a plantation down on de\nSantee, in de Low Country, somewhere 'bout Moncks Corner. One day Master\nDavid buy a 1,385 acres on Wateree Creek. He also buy de Clifton place,\nto live in, in Winnsboro. I can't git my mind back to tell you what I\nwants for you to put on de paper. 'Scuse me, forgit everything, 'til you\ngit my pedigree down.\n\n\"I done name Master David and Mistress Louisa. Now for de chillun. Us\nwas told to front de boys name wid Marse and de young ladies name wid\nMiss. Now us can go and git somewhere.\n\n\"Well, dere was Miss Elizabeth; she marry Mr. Dwight. Miss Maria marry\nanother Mr. Dwight. Miss Kate marry Mr. Bob Ellison, a sheriff. Her got\ntwo chillun in Columbia, Marse David and Marse DuBose Ellison. Then for\nde boys; they all went to de war. Marse Alley got kilt. Marse Dick rise\nto be a captain and after de war marry Congressman Boyce's daughter,\nMiss Fannie. Marse Ike marry and live in de Low Country; he die 'bout\ntwo years ago. Marse Sam marry a Miss DuBose and went wid General Wade\nHampton.\n\n\"Marse Sam's son cut a canal that divide half and half de western part\nof de whole world. Us niggers was powerful scared, 'til Marse David\nGailliard took a hold of de business. Why us scared? Why us fear dat de\ncenter of de backbone of de world down dere, when cut, would tipple over\nlak de halfs of a watermelon and everybody would go under de water in de\nocean. How could Marse David prevent it? Us niggers of de Gaillard\ngeneration have confidence in de Gaillard race and us willin' to sink or\nswim wid them in whatever they do. Young Marse David propped de sides of\nde world up all right, down dere, and they name a big part of dat canal,\nGaillard Cut, so they did. (Gaillard Cut, Panama Canal)\n\n\"Well, I keep a ramblin'. Will I ever git to Marse Henry, de one dat\nlooked after and cared for slaves of de family most and best? Marse\nHenry marry a Miss White in Charleston. He rise to be captain and\nadjutant of de fightin' 6th Regiment. After de war him fix it so de\nslaves stay altogether, on dat 1,385 acres and buy de place, as common\ntenants, on de 'stallment plan. He send word for de head of each family\nto come to Winnsboro; us have to have names and register. Marse Henry\ncommand; us obey. Dat was a great day. My daddy already had his name,\nTom. He was de driver of de buggy, de carriage, and one of de wagons, in\nslavery. Marse Henry wrote him a name on a slip and say: 'Tom as you\nhave never walked much, I name you Walker.'\n\n\"It wasn't long befo' daddy, who was de only one dat could read and\nwrite, ride down to Columbia and come back wid a 'mission in his pocket\nfrom de 'Publican Governor, to be Justice of de Peace.\n\n\"Marse Henry ladle out some 'golliwhopshus' names dat day. Such as:\nCaesar Harrison, Edward Cades and Louis Brevard. He say, 'Louis, I give\nyou de name of a judge. Dan, I give you a Roman name, Pompey.' Pompey\nturned out to be a preacher and I see your grandpa, Marse William\nWoodward, in de graveyard when Uncle Pompey preached de funeral of old\nUncle Wash Moore. Tell you 'bout dat if I has time.\n\n\"Well, he give Uncle Sam de name of Shadrock. When he reach Uncle Aleck,\nhe 'low: 'I adds to your name Aleck, two fine names, a preacher's and a\nscholar's, Porter Ramsey.' 'Bout dat time a little runt elbow and butt\nhis way right up to de front and say: 'Marse Henry, Marse Henry! I wants\na big bulldozin' name.' Marse Henry look at him and say: 'You little\nshrimp, take dis then.' And Marse Henry write on de slip of paper:\nMendoza J. Fernandez, and read it out loud. De little runt laugh mighty\npleased and some of them Fernandezes 'round here to dis day.\n\n\"My mammy name Bess, my granddaddy name June, grandmamny, Renah, but all\nmy brothers dead. My sisters Clerissie and Phibbie am still livin'. Us\nwas born in a two-story frame house, chimney in de middle, four rooms\ndown stairs and four up stairs. Dere was four families livin' in it.\nDese was de town domestics of master. Him have another residence on de\nplantation and a set of domestics, but my daddy was de coachman for both\nplaces.\n\n\"De Gaillard quarters was a little town laid out wid streets wide 'nough\nfor a wagon to pass thru. Houses was on each side of de street. A well\nand church was in de center of de town. Dere was a gin-house, barns,\nstables, cowpen and a big bell on top of a high pole at de barn gate.\nDere was a big trough at de well, kept full of water day and night, in\ncase of fire and to water de stock. Us had peg beds, wheat straw\nmattress and rag pillows. Cotton was too valuable.\n\n\"Master didn't 'low de chillun to be worked. He feed slaves on 'tatoes,\nrice, corn pone, hominy, fried meat, 'lasses, shorts, turnips, collards,\nand string beans. Us had pumpkin pie on Sunday. No butter, no sweet milk\nbut us got blabber and buttermilk.\n\n\"Oh, then, I 'bout to forgit. Dere was a big hall wid spinnin' wheels\nin it, where thread was spin. Dat thread was hauled to Winnsboro and\nbrought to de Clifton place in Winnsboro, to de weave house. Dat house\nset 'bout where de Winnsboro Mill is now. Mammy was head of de weave\nhouse force and see to de cloth. Dere was a dye-room down dere too. They\nuse red earth sometime and sometime walnut stain. My mammy learn all dis\nfrom a white lady, Miss Spurrier, dat Master David put in charge dere at\nde first. How long she stay? I disremembers dat. Us no want for clothes\nsummer or winter. Had wooden bottom shoes, two pair in a year.\n\n\"Mr. Sam Johnson was de overseer. Dere was 'bout 700 slaves in de\nGaillard quarter and twenty in town, countin' de chillun. De young white\nmarsters break de law when they teach daddy to read and write. Marse\nDick say: 'To hell wid de law, I got to have somebody dat can read and\nwrite 'mong de servants.' My daddy was his valet. He put de boys to bed,\nput on deir shoes and brush them off, and all dat kind of 'tention.\n\n\"De church was called Springvale. After freedom, by a vote, de members\njines up, out of respect to de family, wid de Afican Methodist\n'Piscopalian Church, so as to have as much of de form, widout de\nsubstance of them chants, of de master's church.\n\n\"No sir, us had no mulattoes on de place. Everybody decent and happy.\nThey give us two days durin' Christmas for celebratin' and dancin'.\n\n\"I marry Sylvin Field, a gal on de General Bratton Canaan place. Us have\nthree chillun. Nora Heath, dat I'm now livin' wid, at White Oak, Bessie\nLew, in Tennessee, and Susannah, who is dead.\n\n\"What I think of Abe Lincoln? Dat was a mighty man of de Lord. What I\nthink of Jeff Davis? He all right, 'cordin' to his education, just lak\nmy white folks. What I think of Mr. Roosevelt? Oh, Man! Dat's our papa.\n\n\"Go off! I's blabbed 'nough. You 'bliged to hear 'bout dat funeral?\nWill I pester you for 'nother cigarette? No sir! I ain't gonna smoke it\nlak you smoke it. Supposin' us was settin' here smokin' them de same? A\nGaillard come up them steps and see us. He say: 'Shame on dat white\nman', turn his back and walk back down. A Woodward come up them steps\nand see us. He say: 'You d-- nigger! What's all dis?' Take me by de\ncollar, boot me down them steps, and come back and have it out wid you.\nDat's 'bout de difference of de up and low country buckra.\n\n\"Now 'bout Uncle Wash's funeral. Uncle Wash was de blacksmith in de\nforks of de road 'cross de railroad from Concord Church. He was a\npowerful man! Him use de hammer and tongs for all de people miles and\nmiles 'round. Him jine de Springvale Afican Methodist 'Piscopalian\nChurch, but fell from grace. Him covet a hog of Marse Walt Brice and was\nsent to de penitentiary for two years, 'bout dat hog. Him contacted\nconsumption down dere and come home. His chest was all sunk in and his\nribs full of rheumatism. Him soon went to bed and died. Him was buried\non top of de hill, in de pines just north of Woodward. Uncle Pompey\npreached de funeral. White folks was dere. Marse William was dere, and\nhis nephew, de Attorney General of Arizona. Uncle Pompey took his text\n'bout Paul and Silas layin' in jail and dat it was not 'ternally against\na church member to go to jail. Him dwell on de life of labor and\nbravery, in tacklin' kickin' hosses and mules. How him sharpen de dull\nplow points and make de corn and cotton grow, to feed and clothe de\nhungry and naked. He look up thru de pine tree tops and say: 'I see\nJacob's ladder. Brother Wash is climbin' dat ladder. Him is half way up.\nAh! Brudders and sisters, pray, while I preach dat he enter in them\npearly gates. I see them gates open. Brother Wash done reach de topmost\nrung in dat ladder. Let us sing wid a shout, dat blessed hymn, 'Dere is\na Fountain Filled Wid Blood'.' Wid de first verse de women got to\nhollerin' and wid de second', Uncle Pompey say: 'De dyin' thief I see\nhim dere to welcome Brother Wash in paradise. Thank God! Brother Wash\ndone washed as white as snow and landed safe forever more.'\n\n\"Dat Attorney General turn up his coat in de November wind and say;\n'I'll be damn! Marse William smile and 'low: 'Oh Tom! Don't be too hard\non them. 'Member He will have mercy on them, dat have mercy on\nothers'.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =Stiles M. Scruggs=\n =Columbia, S.C.=\n\n=DANIEL WARING=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\n\"I was born in Fairfield County, South Carolina, in 1849, and my\nparents, Tobias and Becky Waring was slaves of the Waring family, and\nthe Bookters and Warings was kin folks. When I was just a little shaver\nI was told I b'longed to the family of the late Colonel Edward Bookter\nof upper Fairfield County.\n\n\"The Bookter plantation was a big one, with pastures for cattle, hogs\nand sheep; big field of cotton, corn and wheat, and 'bout a dozen Negro\nfamilies livin' on it, mostly out of sight from the Bookter's big house.\nTwo women and three or four Negro chillun work there, preparin' the food\nand carin' for the stock. I was one of the chillun. Colonel Bookter's\nhousehold had three boys; one bigger than me and two not quite as big as\nme. We play together, drive up the cows together, and carry on in\nfriendly fashion all the time. The nigger chillun eat with the two black\nwomen in a place fixed for them off from the kitchen, after the white\nfolks finish. We generally have same food and drink that the white folks\nhave.\n\n\"When I was 'bout eleven years old my master took me to Columbia one\nSaturday afternoon, and while Colonel Bookter was 'round at a livery\nstable on Assembly Street, he give me some money and tell me I could\nstroll 'round a while. I did, and soon find myself with 'bout a dozen of\nMaster Hampton's boys. As we walk 'long Gervais Street, we met a big\nfine lookin' man with a fishin' tackle, goin' towards the river, and\nseveral other white folks was with him. As we turn the corner, the big\nman kinda grin and say to us: 'Whose niggers are you?' The bigger boy\nwith us say: 'We all b'longs to Master Hampton.' He laugh some more and\nthen reach in his pocket and give each one of us a nickel, sayin' to\nthe white folks: 'Blest if I know my own niggers, anymore'.\n\n\"Yes sir, I was 'bout fourteen years old when President Lincoln set us\nall free in 1863. The war was still goin' on and I'm tellin' you right\nwhen I say that my folks and friends round me did not regard freedom as\na unmixed blessin'.\n\n\"We didn't know where to go or what to do, and so we stayed right where\nwe was, and there wasn't much difference to our livin', 'cause we had\nalways had a plenty to eat and wear. I 'member my mammy tellin' me that\nfood was gittin' scarce, and any black folks beginnin' to scratch for\nthemselves would suffer, if they take their foot in their hand and\nramble 'bout the land lak a wolf.\n\n\"As a slave on the plantation of Colonel Edward Bookter, I had a pretty\ngood time. I knows I has work to do and I does it, and I always has\nplenty to eat and wear in winter and summer. If I get sick I has a\ndoctor, so we set tight until 1865. After the war we come to Columbia,\nand mammy made us a livin' by washin' for white folks and doin' other\njobs in the kitchen, and I worked at odd jobs, too.\n\n\"We didn't get much money from the Freedmen's outfit, which was\n'stablished in Columbia. The white men who set it up and administered\nthe Freedmen's funds and rations let some of their pets have much of it,\nwhile others got little or nothin'. An' existence become increasin'\nharder as nigger got more and more in the saddle.\n\n\"During the war, and it seem to me it would never end, we heard much\n'bout President Lincoln. Niggers seem to think he was foolish to get\ninto war, but they generally give him credit for directin' it right as\nfar as he could. President Davis was powerful popular at the beginnin'\nof the conflict, but his popularity was far less when the war is over\nand he is in jail.\n\n\"I was 'most grown at the end of the war, and I was at no time popular\nwith the black leaders and their white friends who rule the roost in\nColumbia for 'most thirteen years. I went back to my white friends in\nFairfield County and work for years for Mister T.S. Brice, and others on\nthe plantation.\n\n\"I has been married three times, and am now livin' with my third wife.\nShe and me am makin' a sort of livin', and is yet able to work. I can\nonly do de lightest work and the sweetest thought I has these days is\nthe memory of my white friends when I was young and happy.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Code No.=\n =Project, 1885-(1)=\n =Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=\n =Place, Marion, S.C.=\n =Date, June 2, 1937=\n\n=NANCY WASHINGTON=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 104 years.=\n\n\n\"Come in child. Jes set right dere in dat chair whey I c'n be mindful uv\nyuh cause I ain' hear but sorta hard lak dese days. I jes come in outer\nde field whey I been chopping 'round uh little wid me hoe, but eve't'ing\nis grow so black 'fore me eye dat I t'ink I better rest meself uh\nlittle. I tries to help Sam (her son) aw I c'n, but I ain' mucha 'count\nno more. I 104 year old en I ain' gwinna be heah much longer. Me mark\ndone strak (strike) me right dere dis a'ternoon. Dat been jes de way my\nole mammy waz call.\"\n\n\"Does yah know whey dat place call Ash Pole? Dat whey I wuz raise up\nwhen I b'long to Massa Giles Evanson. He wuz uh good ole fellow. I ain'\nknow wha' it wuz to ge' no bad treatment by my white people. Dey tell me\nsome uv de colored peoples lib mighty rough in dat day en time but I\nne'er know nuthin 'bout dat. I 'member dey is spank we chillun wid\nshingle but dey ne'er didn't hit my mudder.\"\n\n\"My Massa ne'er hab so mucha colored peoples lak some uv dem udder white\nfolks hab. Jes hab my mudder en eight head uv we chillun. Hab 'nough to\ngi'e eve'yone uv he daughter uh servant apiece when dey ge' marry. Ne'er\nhab nuthin but women colored peoples. My Massa say he ain' wan' no man\ncolored peoples.\"\n\n\"De preacher Ford, wha' use'er lib right up dere in town, papa hab uh\nbig ole plantation wha' been jes lak uh little town. He hab hundred\ncolored peoples en dey is hab eve't'ing dere. Hab dey preachin' right\ndere on de plantation en aw dat.\"\n\n\"Coase my white folks hab uh nice plantation en dey keep uh nice house\naw de time. I wuz de house girl dere en de one wha' dey'ud hab to wait\non de Missus. Dey'ud carry me eve'ywhey dey go. Al'ays know how I wuz\nfaring. My Missus wuz big en independent lak. Talk lak she mad aw de\ntime, but she warnt. She ne'er wear no cotton 'bout dere no time. Hab\nher silk on eve'y day en dem long yellow ear bob dat'ud be tetchin right\nlong side she shoulder. I al'ays look a'ter de Missus en she chillun.\nWash dey feet en comb dey hair en put de chillun to bed. But child, some\nwhite folks is queer 'bout t'ings. Dey watch yuh gwine 'bout yuh work en\nden dey'll wan' yuh to do sumptin fa dem. De ole man take me 'way from\nhelping de Missus en send me out to plow corn en drap peas. I wuz shame\ntoo cause I ne'er lak fa he to treat my Missus dat uh way.\"\n\n\"De peoples ne'er didn't cook in no stove den neither. Dey hab big ole\nround dirt ubben (oven) to cook dey ration in. Dey make dey ubben outer\nwhite clay en hadder build uh shelter over it cause dey'ud cook outer\nin de yard. Dey ne'er cook but jes twice uh week. Cook on Wednesday en\nden ne'er cook no more till Saturday. I 'member de big ole ham dat dey\ncook en de tatoes en so mucha bread. Jes hab 'bundance aw de time. I got\nuh piece uv de ole slavery time ubben heah now. I ge' it outer en show\nit to yuh. Dis is one uv de leads (lids) en dey'ud put uh chain en hook\non dere en hang it up in de fireplace. Dat de way dey cook dey ration. O\nLawd, ef I could ge' back to my ole home whey I could look in en see jes\none more time, jes one more time, child.\"\n\n\"I wuz jes uh girl when de Yankees come t'rough dere. Dey look jes lak\nuh big blue cloud comin' down dat road en we chillun wuz scared uv em.\nDat land 'round 'bout dere wuz full uv dem Yankees marchin' en gwine on.\nDey ne'er bother my white folks but in some uv de places dey jes ruint\neve't'ing. Burnt up en tore down aw 'bout dere.\"\n\n\"Yuh ain' ne'er see nobody weave no cloth nowadays. In de winter dey\nuse'er al'ays put woolen on de little chillun to keep em from getting\nburnt up. Peoples wuz easy to cotch uh fire in dat time. Dey hab plenty\nuv sheep den en dis jes 'bout de time uv de year dat dey shear de sheep.\nAl'ays'ud shear de sheep in de month uv May. Dey is make aw kinder nice\ncloth den. I c'n charge en spin en make any kinder streak yuh wan'.\nCoase my mudder use'er weave de jeanes cloth en blanketing.\"\n\n\"Dey use'er hab some uv dem corn-shucking 'bout dere but I ne'er take no\npart in none uv dat. A'ter freedom declare, us pull boxes en dip\nturpentine. Dat wha' wuz in de style den.\"\n\n\"I won' but 'bout 16 when I marry en I hab uh nice wedding. Marry right\ndere in my Massa yard en hab white swass dress to wear. I marry uh\nsettled man offen uh rich man plantation en dey ne'er wan' me to marry,\nbut dey ne'er say nuthin 'gainst it. Dey hab good manners den en manners\nde t'ing dat carry peoples t'rough anyt'ing, child.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Nancy Washington, age 104, colored, Dusty Hills,\n  Marion, S.C. (Personal interview, May 1937).\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=CHARLEY WATSON=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\n\"Dis is a mighty hot day I tells you, and after climbing them steps I\njust got to fan myself befo' I give answer to your questions. You got\nany 'bacco I could chaw and a place to spit? Dis old darkie maybe answer\nmore better if he be allowed to be placed lak dat at de beginnin' of de\n'sperience.\n\n\"Where was I born? Why right dere on de Hog Fork Place, thought\neverybody knowed dat! It was de home place of my old Marster Daniel\nHall, one of de Rockefellers of his day and generation, I tells you, he\nsho was. My pappy had big name, my marster call him Denmore, my mammy\nwent by de name of Mariyer. She was bought out of a drove from Virginny\nlong befo' de war. They both b'long to old marster and bless God live on\nde same place in a little log house. Let's see; my brother Bill is one,\nhe livin' at de stone quarry at Salisbury, North Carolina. My sister\nLugenie marry a Boulware nigger and they tells me dat woman done take\ndat nigger and make sumpin' out of him. They owns their own automobile\nand livin' in Cleveland, Ohio.\n\n\"Us live in quarters, two string of houses a quarter mile long and just\nde width of a wagon road betwixt them. How many slaves marster had? Dere\nwas four hundred in 1850, dat was de year I was born, so allowing for de\nnatural 'crease, 'spect dere was good many more when freedom come. Our\nbeds was made of poles and hay or straw. Was my marster rich? How come\nhe wasn't? Didn't he have a Florida plantation and a Georgia plantation?\nDidn't us niggers work hard for our vittles and clothes? It make me\nlaugh de way de niggers talk 'bout eight hours a day. Us worked by de\n'can and de can't system'. What way dat you ask me? Well, was dis way;\nin de mornin' when it git so you can see, you got to go to work and at\nnight when it git so dark you can't see you ceasted to work. You see\nwhat I mean? My marster's white overseer 'dopted de 'can and can't\nsystem' of work hours. My mammy had to plow same as a man, she did sir.\nSometimes they pulled fodder and fooled wid it on Sunday.\n\n\"You is a pushin' me a little too fast. Let me gum dis 'bacco and spit\nand I can do and say more 'zackly what you expect from me. My marster\nhad sheep, goats, mules, horses, stallion, jackass, cows and hogs, and\nthen he had a gin, tan yard, spinnin' rooms, weave room, blacksmith shop\nand shoe shop. Dere was wild turkeys on de place, deer in de cane brakes\nand shad in de Catawba River. De Indians fetch their pots and jars to\nsell, and peddlers come to big house wid their humps on their backs and\nbright yards of calico and sich things de missus lak to feel and s'lect\nfrom. I see money then, but I never see a nigger wid money in his paws\nin slavery time, never!\n\n\"Us was fed good on corn meal, hog meat, milk, butter, 'lasses, turnips,\nbeans, peas and apples, never hungry. Boss whip me once for fightin' and I\nnever fought anymore, I tells you.\n\n\"My mistress name Miss Sarah. Her was a Hicklin befo' she marry. Their\nchillun was: Tom, Billie, Dan and Jason, all dead 'cept Marster Jason.\nDe white overseer was Strother Ford. He give de slaves down the country\nmaybe sometimes, so heard them say, but I didn't see him.\n\n\"Did us sing? Yes sir. What us sing? One was what I's gwine hist right\ndis minute and sing wid your lieve. (Here Charley sang, 'Give me dat old\ntime religion'.)\n\n\"Us made 'simmon beer sometime and lye soap just 'bout in de same way,\nhopper was 'rected for dat. 'Simmons was put wid locust; hickory ashes\nwas used to make soap. Every Christmas us got ginger cake and sassafras\ntea.\n\n\"Doctor Scott was de doctor for de slaves. Us niggers was mighty sad\nwhen his son Willie's gun went off by accident and kill him in 1868. De\nDoctor never smile again after dat cumbustion of dat gun. Does you\n'member de time Mr. Till Dixon was drowned? He your uncle? 'Twas de\nfourth of July, I 'member dat day, and a boy Freddie Habbernick was\ndrowned in Catawba in 1903. Dat river take a many soul over dat other\nshore, I tells you.\"\n\n\n\n\n =S-260-264-N=\n =Project 935=\n =Samuel Addison=\n =Richland County=\n\n=EX-SLAVE 91 YEARS OLD, CONGAREE, SOUTH CAROLINA=\n\n=_THERE WAS NO GOD BUT MOSSA AN' MISSUS_=\n\n\n\"My pa name was Nat White who tell me dat I was bo'n about 1842. My ma\nwas name Jane White. My pa use to carry all de votes from McClellanville\nto Charleston. He come from Tibbin, South Carolina. He also been all\n'round de United States. My Ma's Ma bin name Kate. I had sense to know\n'em all.\n\n\"I know a heap o' sojus had on nice buttons an' had plumes in dere hats.\nDey wus singin' an' playin' on a flute dis song, 'I wish I wus in\nDixie,' an' dey went in de big house an' broke up ebery thing. Dey say\nto me, 'you are as free as a frog,' an' dey say to my pa, 'all your\nchillun are free.' Dey say 'little niggers is free as a frog' an' we\nholler much.\n\n\"I aint nebber do no work, but I kin 'member I use to wear a pant you\ncall chambery. Ma cook a pot o' peas an' weevils wus always on de top.\nMa would den turn mush an' clean a place on de floor, she make a paddle\nan' we eat off de floor. She use to bake ash cake too. I didn' know\n'bout no garden, all I know I eat. Dis what dey put on me I wear em. I\nnebber know nothin' 'bout shoes.\n\n\"My master been name Bill Cooper who had a gal an' a son. De gal been\nname Mary an' de boy Bill like de daddy.\n\n\"Tarbin wus a big house, but I aint nebber know de number o' slaves or\n'mount o' lan' dat went wid um.\n\n\"De slaves had a church name Lazarus an' some went to de white church.\nDey had us bar off frum de whites an' we use to look t'rough a glass\ndoor. I member when a preacher say, 'honor your missus an' mossa dat\nyour days may be long for dey is your only God.' My Ma tell me when dey\nuse to lick dem she use to sing dis song, 'do pray for me' en ma say\nw'en de lickin' got too hot she say 'oh God' en mossa say, 'show me dat\ndamn man', den he say, 'I am your only God. My preacher name wus Sabie\nMood.\n\n\"De slaves couldn't git any news, but dey had to work on Sunday if de\nweek bin bad. W'en it rain dey use to shuck co'n.\n\n\"W'en Bill Cooper die he holler to me, 'I'm burnin' up' an' ma say\nmissus say, 'iron me too hot, she meat is red like fire.'\n\n\"We use to sing song like dese;\n\n    'Mary bring de news an' Martha win de prize.\n    I mus die an' will die in dat day\n    See dat oars like feathers springing'\n\n\"I marry Sarah on December 18th. Him de only one I marry an' we had a\nbig weddin' an' plenty o' somethin' to eat. We had fourteen chillun.\n\n\"Pa say mossa use to take de fork an' punch holes in dere body w'en he\ngot mad. People always die frum de pisin.\n\n\"Dis is all I know I ain't go tell no lie, dat what pa say, I moved here\natter de yankees come.\"\n\n\n  Reference;\n\n  Uncle Dave White,\n  91 years old\n  Congaree, South Carolina.\n\n\n\n\n =S-260-264-N=\n =Project 1885=\n =Laura L. Middleton=\n =Charleston, S.C.=\n\n =No. Words: 452=\n\n=UNCLE DAVE WHITE=\n\n=_An Old Time Negro_=\n\n\nUncle Dave White, one of the waning tribe lives in a simple homestead\ndown a dusty and wind-swept curved country lane on the out skirt of\nMcClenville, forty miles North of Charleston rests the simple shanty of\nDavid White, aged Negro, affectionally known to the Negro and white\npopulation for many miles around as \"uncle Dave\".\n\nHis quiet unadulterated mode of living and his never changing grateful\ndisposition typifies the true Southern Negro of pre-Civil War days; a\nrace that was commonplace and plentiful at one time, but is now almost\nextinct, having dwindled in the face of more adequate educational\nfacilities.\n\nHis homestead, resembling a barn more than a place to live in. To\nprotect the house against the hazardous affects of imperilling winds,\nlong poles are made to prop the somewhat dilapidated shanty.\n\nA visit to his home, one dark and dreary day in late December, found him\nas usual in the best of spirits. He welcomed the visitors with a\ncordiality that would rival the meeting of two long lost friends. The\nfront has no main entrance; the main door is around the back. There are\nconspicuous displays of many ancient burlap bags, heavy laden, hanging\nfrom high rafters, which contained corn and peanuts.\n\n\"But why not keep them in your barn, Uncle Dave!\" one would ask.\n\n\"Well, suh, I keep mah co'n and grain nuts in yuh so mak eye can sta' on\n'em,\" he replies.\n\nA further inspection of the premises revealed other precautions he had\ntaken against the unwelcomed guests; a crude lock on each door and many\nother precautionary measures convicted, that he was willing to take no\nunnecessary chances at having his worldly goods stolen.\n\nHis age is truly a matter of conjecture. The more you look at him the\nmore uncertain you become. His droopy carriage and shriveled feature\nbetray you at first sight. The first impression will lead one to believe\nthat he is about one hundred years of age, and later it will appear that\nhe is not that old.\n\nWe had known \"uncle Dave\" for a long time; for years it had been a\nfamiliar sight to see him trudging the streets of the town with burlap\nbags thrown across his shoulders containing such household necessities\nas grits, salt, sugar, etc., and such articles as the house wives would\ngive him out of sheer sympathy. To every friendly greeting he always had\nthe humble response of \"Tank Gawd, my eye is open.\"\n\nHe is well known throughout the town. One Sunday night a short time ago,\nwhile the services of a white church were in progress, distinguishable\nsounds of Amen were heard at regular intervals coming from the outside.\nOn investigating they discovered that it was \"uncle Dave\" reverently\nenjoying the proceedings. Many times he has been seen outside the same\nchurch listening to the services.\n\n\n  _SOURCE_\n  Interview with (Mrs.) Minnie Huges, age 43, 179 Spring Street, welfare\n  worker.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1655=\n =Martha S. Pinckney=\n =Charleston, S.C.=\n\n =FOLKLORE=\n\n =Approx. _637_ words=\n\n=_INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE_=\n\n\nEverybody in the town of Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish (across the\nBay from Charleston) knows \"Tena White, the washer,\" \"Tena, the cook,\"\n\"Maum Tena\" or \"Da Tena, the nurse\"--the same individual, accomplished\nin each art, but best as a nurse.\n\nThe house where Tena lives is the second in a row of Negro houses. The\nwriter, calling from the gate, was answered by Tena, a middle-sized\nwoman of neat figure. As the writer ascended the steps a friendly cur\nwagged itself forward and was promptly reproved by Tena, who placed a\nchair, the seat of which she wiped carefully with her dress. The piazza\nwas clean and on the floor a black baby slept on a folded cloth, with a\npillow under its head. The writer was soon on friendly terms with Maum\nTena, and was told: \"As soon as my eye set on you, I see you favor the\npeople I know. My people belonged to Mr. William Venning. The plantation\nwas Remley Point. I couldn't zactly member my pa's name. I member when\nde war come though. Oh dem drum; I nebber hear such a drum in my life!\nDe people like music; dey didn't care nothing bout de Yankees, but dem\nbands of music! My mother name Molly Williams. My pa dead long before\nthat. All my people dead. I stayin' here with my youngest sister\nchile--youngest son. He got seven head ob chillun.\"\n\n\"I can do anything--wash or cook--aint no more cook though. Oh yes\" and\nher eyes sparkled, \"I know how to cook de turkey, and de ham wid de\nlittle brown spots all over de top. Nobody can collec' my soup for me; I\nfirst go choose my soup bone. One wid plenty richness. My chile say,\n'While my Tena live I wouldn't want nobody else.' But I couldn't take de\nsponsibility now.\"\n\n\"Maum Tena, how many children did you have?\"\n\n\"Maggie an Etta an Georgie an Annie, etc., etc.\" so fast and so many\nthat one couldn't keep up.\n\n\"Wait, Maum Tena. How many were there in all--your own children?\"\n\n\"I nebber had a chile.\"\n\n\"Oh, those were the children you nursed.\"\n\n\"I marry twice. Caesar Robson an Aleck White.\"\n\n\"Did you ever sing spirituals?\"\n\n\"No, I nebber had time.\"\n\n\"But you sang lullabies to the children.\"\n\n\"Oh, I sing someting to keep de chile quiet.\"\n\n\"Where is your church, Maum Tena?\"\n\n\"De Methodist Church right here. I know I got for die some day. He keep\nme distance,[B] but when I look an see my flesh, I tenk de Lord for\nebbery year what pass on my head. Taint my goodness, tis His goodness.\nNothing but the pureness of heart will see Him.\"\n\n\n[B] Has lived a long time.\n\n\nTena was shocked and disgusted at the idea of the Lord being a \"black\nman.\" She said with perfect certainty that he was \"no such.\"\n\n\"We all goin to de same Heaven, and there aint no black people there.\"\n\nThe writer asked Tena her age; before she could answer, her great-niece\ncame to the door and said, \"She eighty-eight.\" Tena was indignant. Her\neyes flashed. \"I aint goin to hab nobody come along puttin down my age\nwhat dunno anyting about it. I ought to be as high as nine. Let um be as\nhigh as nine.\"[C]\n\n\"If I didn't been round de house wid white people I wouldn't hab dis\nopportunity today, an dey good to me an gib me nuf to keep my soul an\nbody together. My mother raise me right. When de Yankee come through we\nbeen at Remley Point. My Ma took care ob me. She shut me up and she gard\nme. De Yankee been go in de colored people house, an dey mix all up, an\ndey do jus what dey want. Dey been brutish.\n\n\"De beautiful tureen, stand so high and hab foot so long\" lifting her\nhands, \"an all de beautiful ting smash up, an all de meat an ham in de\nsmoke house de stribute um all out to de people, an de dairy broke up,\nan de horse an de cow kill. Nothin leave. Scatter ebberyting. Nothin\nleave.\"\n\n\n[C] Meaning her age should be in the nineties.\n\n\n  =SOURCE: Tena White, Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish, S.C.=\n  =Age: Approximately 90.=\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=BILL WILLIAMS=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nBill Williams lives on the Durham place, nine miles east of Winnsboro,\nS.C., on the warm charity of Mr. Arthur M. Owens, the present owner. He\nis decrepit and unable to work.\n\n\"I was born a slave of old Marster John Durham, on a plantation 'bout\nfive miles east of Blackstock, S.C. My mistress name Margaret. Deir\nchillun was Miss Cynthia, Marse Johnnie, Marse Willie and Marse Charnel.\nI forgits de others. Then, when young Marse Johnnie marry Miss Minnie\nMobley, my mammy, Kizzie, my daddy, Eph, and me was give to them. Daddy\nand mammy had four other chillun. They was Eph, Reuben, Winnie and\nJordan. Us live in rows of log houses, a path 'twixt de two rows. Us was\nclose to de spring, where us got water and mammy did de white folks\nwashin' every week. I kep' de fires burnin' 'round de pots, so de water\nwould keep boilin'. Dat's 'bout all de work I 'members doin' in slavery\ntime. Daddy was a field hand and ploughed a big red mule, name Esau. How\nmany slaves was dere? More than I could count. In them days I couldn't\ncount up to a hundred. How, then, I gonna kno' how many dere was? You\nhave to ask somebody else. I'll just risk sayin' dere was big and little\nones, just a little drove of them dat went to de field in cotton pickin'\ntime, a hollerin' and a singin' glory hallelujah all day long, and pick\ntwo bales a day.\n\n\"Marse Johnnie and Miss Minnie mighty good marster and mistress to deir\nslaves. We had good rock chimneys to our houses, plank floors, movable\nbedsteads, wid good wheat straw ticks, and cotton pillows. Other folks'\nslaves was complainin' 'bout dirt floors in de houses, boards to sleep\non, no ticks, and rags for pillows. Us got flour bread and 'lasses on\nSunday, too, I'm here to tell you.\n\n\"They sho' fetch dat catechism 'round on Sunday and telled you who made\nyou, what Him make you out of, and what Him make you for. And they say\ndat from de crown of your head to de top of your big toe, de chief end\nof every finger and every toe, even to de ends of your two thumbs, was\nmade to glorify de Lord! Missus more 'ticular 'bout dat catechism than\nde marster. Her grandpa, old Marster John Mobley was a great Baptist.\nAfter de crops was laid by, every August, him visit his granddaughter.\nWhile dere, he take de slaves and dam up de branch, to make a pond for\nto pool de water. Then he take to de hill just 'bove, cut down pine\ntops, and make a brush arbor to hold de prachin' in. 'Vite white\npreachers, Mr. Cartledge, Mr. Mellichamp or Mr. Van, to come hold a\n'vival for all de slaves in and 'round and 'bout de country. I's seen 27\ngo down and come up out dat pool, a splashin' water from deir faces, one\nSunday evenin'. A terrible thing happen one time at de baptism. It was\nwhile de war was gwine on. Marse Johnnie had come back from Virginia, on\na furlough for ten days. Old Marse John come to see him and fetch Rev.\nMr. Cartledge wid him. People was pow'ful consarned 'bout 'ligion 'long\n'bout dat time. Me and all de little slave boys jined dat time and dere\nwas a little boy name Ike, a slave of old Doctor John Douglas, dat\njined. Him was just 'bout my age, seven or eight years old. After him\njined, him wanna back out of goin' down into de water. Dat evenin',\nafter dinner, us was all dressed in a kind of white slip-over gown for\nde occasion. When it come Ike's time to receive de baptism, him was led\nby his mammy, by de hand, to de edge of de water and his hand given to\nde preacher in charge, who received him. Then he commenced: 'On de\nconfession----'. 'Bout dat time little Ike broke loose, run up de bank,\nand his mammy and all de slaves holler: 'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old\nMarse John holler: 'Ketch him!' They ketch little Ike and fetch him back\nto old Marse John and his mammy. Marse John explain to him dat it better\nto have water in de nose, now, than fire in de soul forever after.\nLittle Ike say nothin'. His mammy take his hand and lead him to de\npreacher de same way her did befo'. Little Ike went down into de water.\nPreacher take him but when little Ike got down under dat water, de\npreacher lose de hold and bless God, in some way little Ike got 'twixt\nand 'tween de preacher's legs and comin' out behind him, turnt him\nsommersets and climb out on de bank a runnin'. Little Ike's mammy cry\nout: 'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old marster say: 'No let him go to de\ndevil. Thank de Lord him none of our niggers anyhow. Him just one of Dr.\nDouglas' Presbyterians niggers dat's destined to hell and be damned, I\nreckon.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=JESSE WILLIAMS=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\nAt the end of one of the silent streets of west Chester, S.C., that\nprolongs itself into a road leading to the Potter's Field and on to the\nCounty Poorhouse, sets a whitewashed frame cottage. It has two rooms,\nthe chimney in the center providing each with a fireplace. A porch,\nsupported by red cedar posts, fronts the road side. In this abode lives\nJesse Williams with his daughter, Edna, and her six children. Edna pays\nthe rent, and is a grenadier in the warfare of keeping the wolf from the\ndoor.\n\n\"You say I looks pretty old? Well, you's right 'bout de old part but I's\nfar 'way from de pretty part. I got a hand glass in my house and when I\nshaves on Sunday mornin's, I often wonders who I is. I doesn't look lak\nme. My best friend couldn't say I got much on looks, but my old dog rap\nhis tail on de floor lak he might say so, if him could speak.\n\n\"I's been off and on dese streets of Chester for eighty-three years. I\nwas born a slave of Marse Adam C. Walker and my old miss was Mistress\nEliza, dat's his wife.\n\n\"My pappy name Henry and mammy name Maria. I can see them plowin' in de\nfield right now. Mammy plowin' same as pappy and me runnin' 'long\nbehind, takin' de dirt off de cotton plants where de twister plow turnt\nde clods on de plants. Then, when dat cotton field git white and red wid\nblooms in summer and white agin in de fall, I have to shoulder my poke\nand go to de field and pick dat cotton. I 'members de fust day dat I\npick a hundred pounds. Marse Adam pull out a big flat black pocket-book\nand gived me a shinplaster, and say: 'Jesse, ever time your basket h'ist\nde beam of de steelyards to 100, you gits a shinplaster.' I make eighty\ncents dat year but I have to git up when de chickens crow for day and\ngit in de field when de dew was heavy on de cotton. Does I think dat was\ncheatin'? Oh, no sir! I wasn't 'ceivin' old marster. Him wink at dat,\nand take a pound off for dew. I'd a made more money but they took me out\nde field in November, to drive de mules to de hoss-gin. Dat was play\nwork, just a settin' up dere and poppin' de whip.\n\n\"Marster live in a big two-story, eight-room house. De kitchen was out\nfrom de house. After Christmas, dat year, I was house boy and drive de\nbuggy for Miss Eliza when her want to go visitin'. I was fed well and\nspent my money for a knife, candy, and firecrackers.\n\n\"My marster and missus have chillun. They was Peter, Jerry, Miss Elnora,\nand Miss Sallie, dat I play wid in slavery time.\n\n\"De Yankees didn't come as far up as Chester. They branched off down\n'bout Blackstock, took de sunrise side of dat place and march on 'cross\nCatawba River, at Rocky Mount. I stay on wid Marse Adam and Miss Eliza,\nafter freedom. I marry a handsome gal. Yes, sir, she dark but not too\nshady. I harks back to them days, as I sets here in dis rocker a talkin'\nto you. Did I tell you her name? Her name just suit her. Not Jane,\nPolly, Mag, Sallie, and de lak of dat! Them was too common for her. Her\nname Catherine, dat just fit her. Us have ten chillun and her and all\nthem 'cept me and three chillun done gone over to Jordan. Dere was just\none thing 'bout Catherine dat I's dubious 'bout. She lak to dance, and I\nwas too clumsy for to ever cut a double shuffle. I 'spect I cut a poor\nfigure at de frolics us went to. Does you think burnin' a candle for her\nwould do any good at dis late day? Why I ask you dat? Well, I has heard\nthem say dat white folks does dat sometimes for deir gone-on ones. My\ndaughter, Edna say: 'It might do you good and it could do mama no harm.'\nI b'longs to Mount Moriah Church in dis very town of Chester. De\npreacher am Rev. Alexander. He 'low it was superstition to burn dat\ncandle but if I live I's gwine to light one nex' Christmas.\n\n\"Us had a good marster and mistress. They was big buckra, never 'sociate\nwid poor white trash. They wore de red shirt. De time come 'round when\nthey send me to Marse Will Harden and he pass me on to go see Marse\nJudge Mackey, who live here then. Did I know Judge Mackey? Sho' I did!\nWhile he was a settin' up dere on de bench in de court house, he have\nall de people laughin'. One time de father of Marse W.B. Lindsey beat up\na Radical nigger and de case come up befo' him for trial. Great\n'citement 'bout it, over de whole county. Court house packed dat day.\nSolicitor rise and say: 'Please your honor, de 'fendant, Lindsey, put in\na plea of guilty.' You might have heard a breast feather of a chicken\nfall, so very still was de people in dere, though de niggers and\n'publicans was a grinning wid joy. Then Judge Mackey 'low: 'Let de\n'fendant stand up.' Wid a solemn face and a solemn talk, him wound up\nwid: 'Derefore, de court sentence you to de State Penitentiary at hard\nlabor for a period of ten years (Then him face light up, as he\nconclude), or pay a fine of one dollar!' De white folks holler: 'Three\ncheers for Judge Mackey!' De judge git up and bow, and say: 'Order in de\ncourt.' As dere was no quiet to be got, clerk 'journed de court. De\njudge take his silk beaver hat and gold headed cane and march out, while\nde baliffs holler: 'Make way! Make way for de honorable judge!'\nEverybody took up dat cry and keep it up long as de judge was on de\nstreets. Oh, how dat judge twirl his cane, smile, and strut.\n\n\"Did I ever see a spirit? 'Spect I has and I sho' have felt one more\nthan once. 'Spect I was born wid a caul over my eyes. When de last\nquarter of de moon come in de seventh month of a seventh year, is de\nmost time you see spirits. Lyin' out in de moon, befo' daybreak, I's\nsmelt, I's heard, I's seed and I's felt Catherine's spirit in de moon\nshadows. I come nigh ketchin' hold of her one night, as I wake up a\ndreamin' 'bout her but befo' I could set up, I hear her pass 'way,\nthrough de treetops dat I was layin', dreamin' under.\n\n\"Then another time, I was settin' here 'bout four o'clock in de\nmoonlight a lookin' 'cross de street to de town hall. I see sumpin' rise\nand jump upon dat rock a lyin' dere 'ginst de town hall. It was de\nfigger of a man. Who it was I don't know, though they de call de rock de\n'Aaron Burr Rock', 'cause he made a speech standin' on dat rock, long\nbefo' I was born. De people in de library can tell you 'bout dat speech.\nMaybe Dr. Lathan tell you 'bout it. Him ninety-five years old dis last\npast twelfth day of May and knows all 'bout de days dat are gone.\n\n\"I live wid my daughter, Edna, and I just can make it back dere from de\npost office every day.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Code: Folk-Lore=\n =Project 1885 -1-=\n =District #4=\n =Spartanburg, S.C.=\n =May 26, 1937=\n\n=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=\n\n\nAunt Mary Williams stated she remembered slavery times, for she was a\ngirl large enough to walk four miles to go to work \"while slavery was\non\". She said Mr. Alfred Brown used to own her mother, but she was\nraised by Mrs. Margaret Taylor who used to live where the oil mill is\nnow, below Arkwright Mills. Her father was owned by Mr. Simpson Bobo and\ndrove his horse for him. She stated she was a good hoe-hand, but didn't\npick cotton, as Mr. Brown didn't raise any cotton, just raised something\nto eat.\n\nShe said her master was a kind man, didn't allow any \"paterollers\" on\nhis place, yet she had seen other slaves on other plantations with\nbloody backs and arms from the whippings they got. When asked why they\nwere whipped, she replied, \"Just because their masters could whip them;\nthey owned them and could do what they wanted to them\". Her master\ndidn't allow any whipping on his place. One time he kept a slave from\nanother plantation who was fleeing the \"paterollers\" on his place and in\nhis own house until he was set free.\n\n\"I'se got the looking glasses and the thimble my great-grandmother used\nto use when she worked. She was a good weaver and a good sewer. She made\na man an overcoat once, but didn't get but $1.25 for it; she made a pair\nof men's breeches and got fifty cents for making them. They didn't get\nnothing for making clothes in those days\".\n\nShe remembered when the Yankee soldiers came into Spartanburg. She said\nthey took all they could get, stole something to eat, just went into the\nstores and took liquor and handed it out drink by drink to the other\nsoldiers. Aunt Mary stated she saw Abe Lincoln when he came through\nSpartanburg; said he was armed himself and had soldiers all around him.\nHe told the colored folks who seemed scared of him that he wasn't going\nto hurt anybody, not to be scared of him. (Here she must have confused\nLincoln with some one else, probably Colonel Palmer, who commanded a\ndetachment in pursuit of Jefferson Davis, which stopped over-night in\nSpartanburg in April, 1865. FK.)\n\n\n  SOURCE: Aunt Mary Williams, 391 Cudd St., Spartanburg, S.C.\n  Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1655=\n =Genevieve W. Chandler=\n =Georgetown County, S.C.=\n\n =FOLKLORE=\n\n=EX-SLAVE STORY=\n\n=UNCLE WILLIS WILLIAMS=\n\n\n\"When wuz I born? Born in August. When I wuz born been August. I wuz a\nman grown pulling boxes, (turpentine boxes) when the shake wuz. I know\nthe very night the shake come----on a Wednesday night. I wuz on door\nstep loosing my shoe string. There wuz more religion then than they is\nnow. Praying and prayer meeting for a month. Everybody tend meeting.\n\n\"I been with the Yankee. I kin tell you bout the Yankee. They come home\nthere to Rock Creek when the war wuz breaking up and carried me to\nFayetteville. (N.C.) Kept me with 'em till Johnson surrendered in\nRaleigh,----then they kept me in Goldsboro and took me on to Petersburg.\nAfter everything over they give me free transportation back home. Free\non train back to Fayetteville. They had put all the Yankee clothes on\nme,----all the blue shirt, blue coat and bumps on the shoulder,--and\nwhen they start me home took all the Yankee clothes way from me. Put\ngray clothes on me and sent me back. I member they took me up in a\nway-up-yonder building--to Richmond. Couldn't tell you the depth of it.\nMan on the ground looked like boy.\n\n\"The man I belonged to been Mass John A. Williams. (Born on the Cape\nFear.) I goes by Mass John name--Williams. His sons been John, James,\nCharlie, Wallis, William, James. James come home from army sick. Had the\nmumps; thirty days furlough.\n\n\"Member when the Yankees come. Been Sunday morning. Ride up to the gate\non horses. Old Boss happened to come out and walk to the lot. I happened\nto be at gate. They took his watch out his pocket, his pistol--had it\ngirded to him--and took all he whiskey and catch chickens and guinea and\ntake them all. Then they gone in the lot and took two breeding mares and\nhitch them in wagon and loaded wagon full o' corn. Then they took the\ntwo carriage horses and hitched to carriage, and gone to smoke-house,\nand fill that carriage full of all Mass John sides of meat and ham and\nshoulders. I been following and watching to see what all they going to\ntake, and a soldier looked at me and say,\n\n\"'Come on little Nigger! Wanter go?'\n\n\"And I done like another fool! I rode off behind the two brood mares, on\nthe corn, and where they rested that night, I rested right there.\n\n\"It was mighty cold up there. I suffered a heap in the cold fore I got\nback home. They give me a horse,--saddled and bridled,--and a little\nbayonet gun. Put me on that horse to drive cattle. Tell me to take all I\nsee. Didn't except nobody cattle. Night come put 'em in pasture--put 'em\nin anybody field--on the oats, rye, wheat.\n\n\"Sometimes rain sho fall.--Had to tend that bunch of cattle rain or no\nrain. Didn't kill one beef and stop! (Kill) FOUR beeves a day. Go out\ngit the hog and kill 'em. Skin 'em. Didn't scald 'em and clean 'em like\nwe do. Just eat the ham. Rest throw way. Gone to Wilmington,\nFayetteville, Rookfish and Beaver Creek.\n\n\"General Sherman? Has I hear bout him? I SEEN him! He had a big name but\nhe warn't such a big man; he was a little spare made man. I member now\nwhen I seed him the last time. He had two matched horses going down to\nPetersburg. Six guards riding by the side of his turnout. Oh my God,\nwhat clothes he had on! He was dressed down in finest uniform.\n\n\"When I leave the Yankee they give me $35.00 in money. I been so fool\nhad never seen no green back. Throwed it away eating crackers and\npeanuts. And I bought some brogan shoes. If I'd a helt on to that, I'd a\nbeen some body today.\n\n\"I members it was Sunday morning that General Johnson throwed up his\nhand at Raleigh. Done with the war!\n\n\"Before Freedom I have a good enough time. Just lay round the house and\nwait on my boss. When Freedom come and I did have to get out and work it\nmost kill me!\n\n\"After Freedom my mother wash for family to Beaver Creek. And after\nFreedom my father went to working on shares. Old Maas John called 'em up\nand tell 'em,\n\n\"'You free, Asa. You free, Lewis. You free, Handy. You free, Wash. You\ncan do as you please. You have to fadge for yourself now.'\n\n\"Mass John Williams had four hundred slaves. He was a man had the\ncolored people. He didn't work all on his own plantation. He'd hire out\nhis people to work turpentine.----Put 'em out for so much a year. He'd\ngive 'em blanket, suit, coat, pants. First of the year come, Boss would\ncollect wages for all he hire out.\n\n\"That there my second wife. You know how a man is. How many wife I had?\nTwo or three. Lemme see! (Looking at present wife) You is one! You the\nlast one! Fust one been Jinny Lind. Next one been Mary Dickson. And\nCaressa Pyatt been one! And there been another one! I forgot that woman\nname! Got it in my mouth and can't call it! I'll call the name of them\nothers I take up with in a little while! One was Caline; one was Tissue;\n(Tisha?) I take them a little while and if they didn't do to suit me, I\nput 'em out! Some I didn't stay with long nuff to find out they name!\nJinny Lind sister was Tissue. Jinny Lind gone, try her sister. Just a\n'make out'. If they didn't do to suit me, I'd give 'em the devil and put\n'em out.\n\n\"Don't know bout beating woman. Some say that bout,\n\n    'Woman, dog, cypress knee\n    more you beat'em the better they be!'\n\n\"But some woman, the more you beat 'em the worse the devil gets in 'em.\nGet so they won't 'GEE' nor 'HAW'.\n\n\"When I was house boy for old Mass John, waiting on white people, that\nwas the best and easiest time I ever had. Ever Satdy drive Mass John to\nFayetteville. Ever Satdy they'd think that store belong to me! I'd eat\nlumps of brown sugar out the barrel, candy, crackers. Did as I please\nthen; NOW do as I kin!\n\n\"'Ways of woman and ways of snake deeper than the sea!' I take that to\nmean----mighty few can tell by the trail of a snake whether its coming\nor going----\n\n\"I hear story bout the rabbit and the fox--all them old things--Some\ntimes my mind franzy. Been break up too much! Break two ribs to the\nlumber mill. Jump out a cart one day and run a ten penny nail through my\nfoot. That lay me up two months. Some mean people ketch me up by that\ntree yonder with a car and that lay me up sixty-five days. They pick me\nup for dead that time. All that make my mind get franzy sometimes. Come\nand go--Come and go.\"\n\n\n  SOURCE: Uncle Willis Williams. Age, 89 to 90 years old. Conway, S.C.\n  (Horry County).\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 a Garmany before I married Calvin Wilson. My father was Henry\nGarmany, and my mother Sidney Boozer. My husband was in the Confederate\narmy with his master. Dey was near Charleston on de coast. I was slave\nof Lemuel Lane, of de Dutch Fork. He was killed after de war, some say\nby some of his young slaves, but we'uns did not know naything about who\nkilled him. We had a good house to live in on Marse Lane's plantation. I\nused to work around the house and in de fields. My mother was a good\nseamstress and helped de white folks sew, and she learn't me to sew had\nhelp too. We didn't get any money for our work. One time after de war,\ndey paid me only $5.00 and I quit 'em. My mother hired me out to work\nfor her, and I didn't have any money, still; so I said I better get me a\nman of my own. Marse Lane was mean to most of us, but good to me. He\nwhipped me once and I deserved it because I wouldn't answer him when he\ncalled me. He jes' give me about two licks. He was mean to my mother,\nbut he wouldn't let his white overseer whip us, and wouldn't let de\npadder-rollers come around. He said he could look-out for his own\nslaves.\n\n\"We didn't learn to read and write, but some of de white folks had\nlearned my mother, and she learned me some.\n\n\"Niggers had to go to church at New Hope, de white folks' church, in\nslavery time and after de war too. We had Saturday afternoons to do what\nwe wanted, and we washed clothes then.\n\n\"On Christmas, Marse would give de slaves some good things to eat and\nsend some to dere families. Niggers had frolics at dere houses sometimes\non Saturday nights. When I married, I had a good hot supper.\n\n\"Children played all de ole games like, play-ball (throwing over the\nhouse), marbles and base.\n\n\"Some saw ghosts, but I never saw any of dem.\n\n\"Old-time cures was peach tree leaves boiled and drunk for fever; wild\ncherry bark was good for most anything if took at night. I have used it\nfor curing some things. The best cure I know, is turpentine and a little\noil mixed. Swallow it and it will fix you up.\n\n\"The Yanks went through our place and took two of the best horses we\nhad. One had a tail that reached the ground. Dey stole lots of victuals.\nI 'member de Ku Klux wid dere long white sheets, and den de Red Coats\nwid white breeches. Dey would walk or ride, but dey never harmed us.\n\n\"I don't know much about Abe Lincoln, but I reckon he was a good man,\nand Jeff Davis, too. I don't know Booker Washington but heard he was a\ngood man.\n\n\"I joined de church because de white folks did. Dey wants to go to\nheaven and I do too. I think everybody ought to try to do right. I used\nto think we could make heaven down here, but if we jes' do right, dats\nall we can do.\"\n\n\n  Source: Emoline Wilson (90), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 21, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =FOLKLORE=\n =Spartanburg Dist. 4=\n =Sept. 22, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I was born in Newberry County near Cannon's Creek section in the Dutch\nFork. I was a slave of Lemuel Lane. He was killed by some slaves just\nafter freedom. They killed him for his money but didn't find any, it was\nsaid. When freedom come, my mistress give me some things to eat when we\nleft.\n\n\"I can't work much any more; I am old and I can't get about. I live with\nmy son who works when he can find work. We rent a two-room cottage in\ntown.\n\n\"I never heard anything about slaves getting 40 acres of land and a\nmule. None in that section got any. We had to go to work for other\npeople.\n\n\"The Ku Klux Klan never bothered us then, and we never had nothing to do\nwith them, nor with politics.\n\n\"There was no slaves living in our section who had come from Virginia.\"\n\n\n  Source: Emoline Wilson (90), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/10/37\n  (See ES IV, MS. #13).\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =FOLKLORE=\n =Spartanburg Dist. 4=\n =June 15, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"I am daughter of Billy Robertson and Louisa Robertson; was born about\n77 years ago in Newberry, on Marse Job Johnstone's place. My father\nlived with Judge Job Johnstone as his extra man or servant. He lived in\nthe house with him, slept in his room and waited on him when he became\nold; and, too, was the driver of his carriage. He drove him to other\ncourthouses to hold court. After the war, my father was janitor at\nNewberry College, and he was liked by professors, students, and\neverybody who knew him as 'Uncle Billy'. At commencement, he always made\na speech at night on the campus, which the students enjoyed. He told\nabout his travels from Virginia to Newberry before the war. Judge\nJohnstone never wanted anybody else to be with him when he traveled.\n\n\"I belonged to the Avelleigh Presbyterian Church in Newberry, and was\nchristened in the church by the preacher, the Rev. Buist. Colored people\nwere allowed to be members and set in the gallery when they went to\nchurch.\n\n\"After the war, a colored man named Amos Baxter was killed by the Ku\nKlux at the old courthouse. My father was on Judge Johnstone's farm a\nfew miles away. He was sent for and came with another colored man to\ntown, and prayed and preached over the body of Baxter. The Ku Klux came\nto kill my father for doing this, but they never caught him.\n\n\"I had to stay home most of the time and help mama keep house. I never\nworked in the field but once, and the job was so poor they put me back\nin the house. That was the old Nance place.\n\n\"Once I saw a man hung in Newberry. He was a negro named Thompson and\nkilled a white man named Reid. He killed him at a store in Pomaria and\nburned it over his body. He was hung near the railroad, and a big crowd\nwas there to see it. That was my first time to see a man hung, and I\npromised God it would be my last. They asked the negro if he had\nanything to say, and give him five minutes to talk. He was setting on a\nbox smoking; then he got up and said he reckoned his time was over, he\nwas sorry for all the bad things he had done; that he had killed a boy\nonce for 25 cents, and had killed a little girl for 20 cents. He was\nsorry for his wife and three weeks old baby. His wife saw him hung.\n\n\"The Ku Klux wanted to kill any white people who was Republicans. They\nkilled some negroes. A white man named Murtishaw killed Lee Nance, a\nstore keeper. I was a little girl and saw it. Some little children was\nstanding out in front. Murtishaw came up and said he wanted to buy\nsomething or pretended he wanted to; then he went up to Nance, pulled\nhis pistol quick and shot him through the throat and head.\n\n\"Judge Johnstone's kitchen was away from the house, a brick building.\nThey had large ovens and wide fireplaces in which they cooked.\n\n\"My father's favorite horses, when he drove the family, was 'Knox' and\n'Calvin', which they kept for many years. When they died the mistress\ncried awfully about it.\n\n\"My husband died at old Mr. Dan Ward's place, on College Hill, where he\nwas living then.\"\n\n\n  Source: Jane Wilson (77), Newberry, S.C.\n  Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/9/37)\n\n\n\n\n =Code No.=\n =Project, 1885-(1)=\n =Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=\n =Place, Marion, S.C.=\n =Date, June 11, 1937=\n\n=MOM GENIA WOODBERRY=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 89 years=\n\n\n\"Glad to see yunnah. Who dese udder wid yah? Who yuh? Lawd, I glad to\nsee yunnah. I nu'se aw Miss Susan fust chillun. Ne'er nu'se dem las'uns.\nSicily been yo' mamma nu'se. Nu'se Massa Ben Gause child fust en den I\nnu'se four head uv Miss Susan chillun a'ter she marry Massa Jim\nStevenson. Sleep right dere wid dem chillun aw de time. Miss Susan ne'er\ndidn't suckle none uv dem chillun. I tell yunnah dis much, Massa Jim\nStevenson was good to aw uv his colored people en Miss Susan wuz good to\nme. I sho' born right down yonner to Massa Ben Gause plantation. Gade\nCaesar en Mary Gause wuz my parents. Yas'um, I is glad to see dese\nchillun cause yuh know whey white folks hab feeling fa yah, it sho' make\nyuh hab feeling fa dey chillun. I ole now en I can' 'member eve'yt'ing\nbut I ain' ne'er forge' wha' good times dem wuz.\"\n\n\"My Lawd! Yas, my Lawd, de peoples lib well dere to Massa Jim Stevenson\nplantation. De white folks hab big house dere wid eve'yt'ing 'bout it\njes lak uh town. I couldn't tell yunnah how many colored peoples dey hab\ndere but I know dis, I hear em say dere wuz more den two hundred uv em\ndat lib in de quarter. Dey house wuz in uh field offen to itself dere on\nde plantation en wuz strung aw up en down in two long row lak. Dey wuz\nset up in good libin' den.\"\n\n\"Coase I ain' lib dere in de quarter wid de udder colored peoples a'ter\nI ge' big 'nough to be nu'se girl, but I know how dey fare dere. My\nMassa hab uh smoke house full uv meat en uh barn full uv corn aw de time\nen eve'y Friday a'ternoon aw de colored peoples hadder do wuz to go dere\nto de big house en ge' dey share uv meat en 'lasses en corn to las' em\nde whole week. Ne'er hadder worry nuthin 'bout it tall. Dey hab dey\ngristmill right dere whey dey grind dat corn eve'y week. Yah ain' ne'er\nsee no sech barn en heap uv meat dese days uz dey hab den. Dem hog\nkillin' days wuz big times fa dem plantation peoples. It jes lak I\ntellin' yunnah my Massa gi'e he colored peoples mos' eve't'ing dey hab\nen den he 'low eve'y family to hab uh acre uv land uv dey own to plant.\nHadder work dat crop in de night. Make light wid fat light'ud stump wha'\nto see by. Dat crop wha' dey buy dey Sunday clothes wid. Ne'er hadder\nhunt no clothes but dey Sunday clothes cause dey hab seamstress right\ndere on de plantation to make aw us udder clothes. Miss Susan larnt Aun'\nCynthia en Starrah en Tenna to cut en sew dere to de big house en a'ter\ndat dey ne'er do nuthin but make de plantation clothes.\"\n\n\"Aw de colored peoples dere to Miss Susan plantation hab dey certain\nbusiness to go 'bout eve'y day en dey ne'er didn't shirk dat neither.\nMiss Susan ain' 'low fa no slack way 'round whey she was. Dere been\nYaneyki wha' hadder jes wait on Miss Susan; Becky, de house girl; Aun'\nHannah, de one wha' cook in de big house; Aun' Dicey, wha' al'ays clean\nup de white folks kitchen; en Sanco, de house boy. Den I wuz de nu'se\ndere fa dem chillun. Ne'er lak it but I ha'e it to do. Hadder stay right\ndere to de big house aw de time. Miss Susan ne'er wouldn't 'low me take\ndem chillun 'way offen no whey en eve'ybody hadder be mindful uv wha'\ndey say 'fore dem chillun too. I 'member dat big ole joggling board dere\non de front piazza dat I use'er ge' de chillun to sleep on eve'y\nevenin'. I be dere singin' one uv dem baby song to de child en it make\nme hu't lak in me bosom to be wid my ole mammy back up dere in de\nquarter. Coase I ain' le' nobody know dat. Dere ain' nobody ne'er been\nno better den Miss Susan wuz to me. It jes lak dis, I wuz jes uh child\nden en yah know it uh child happiness to be raise up wid dey mammy.\"\n\n\"Den de colored peoples lib mighty peaceful lak dere in de quarter cause\ndey ne'er hadder worry 'bout how nuthin come. My Massa see dat dey hab\ndecent libin' aw de time en 'bundance uv eve't'ing dey need. Hadder keep\n'round 'bout dey premises clean up eve'whey. I tellin' yuh, child, my\nwhite folks wuz 'ticular uv dey colored peoples when dey wuz sick. Dey\nhab big ole me'icine book dat dey take down when one uv dem ge' sick en\nsee could dey find wha' wuz good fa dey ailment. Den Miss Susan'ud send\nin de woods en ge' wha' it say mix up fa de remedy en make de me'icine\nright dere to de big house. Miss Susan'ud al'ays doctor de plantation\npeoples en carry em nice basket uv t'ing eve'y time dey wuz sick. Effen\nMiss Susan t'ink dey hab mucha co'plaint, den dey'ud send fa de\nplantation doctor 'bout dere. Annuder t'ing dey ne'er didn't 'low de\ncolored girls to work none tall 'fore dey wuz shape lak uh 'oman cause\ndey 'fraid dat might strain dey ne'ves.\"\n\n\"Aw de colored peoples wha' ne'er hab no work to do 'bout de big house\nwuz field hand en dey hadder ge' up at de fust crow uv de cock in de\nmorning en go up to de big house en see wha' dey wan' em to do dat day.\nCoase dey eat dey break'ast 'fore dey leab de quarter. Effen de sun look\nlak it wuz gwinna shine, de o'erseer'ud send em in de field to work en\ndey'ud stay in de field aw day till sun up in de evenin'. Carry dey\nbasket uv victual en pot 'long wid em en cook right dere in de field.\nJes put dey peas en bacon in de pot en build up big fire 'bout it close\nwhey dey wuz workin' cause eve'y now en den dey hadder push de fire to\nde pot. Den some uv de day dey'ud go in de tatoe patch en dig tatoe en\nroast em in de coals. Effen it wuz uh rainy day, dey ne'er go in de\nfield. Shuck corn dat day. Dat wuz how dey done.\"\n\n\"Aw dem wha' work right dere to de big house al'ays wuz fed from Miss\nSusan table to de kitchen. Dere wuz Gran'mudder Phoebe who hadder look\na'ter eve't'ing 'bout Miss Susan dairy. De plantation peoples'ud bring\ndey gourd eve'y morning en leab it dere to de dairy fa Gran'mudder\nPhoebe to hab fill wid clabber fa em to carry home in de evenin'. Den\nwhen Gran'mudder Phoebe wuz finish wid aw de churning, she use'er pour\nwha' clabber wuz left o'er in uh big ole wooden tray under uh tree dere\nclose to de dairy en call aw dem little plantation chillun dere whey she\nwuz. She gi'e eve'yone uv em uh iron spoon en le' em eat jes uz mucha\ndat clabber uz dey c'n hold. A'ter dat she clean up eve'yt'ing 'bout de\ndairy en den she go to de big house en ge' her dinner. Gran'mudder\nPhoebe say she could set down en eat wid sati'faction den cause she know\nshe wuz t'rough wid wha' been her portion uv work dat day.\"\n\n\"Den dere wuz Patience wha' work to de loom house. She help do aw de\nweaving fa de plantation. Weave aw t'rough de winter en aw t'rough de\nsummer. She make aw kinder uv pretty streak in de cloth outer de yarn\ndat dey dye right dere on de plantation wid t'ing dat dey ge' outer de\nwoods lak walnut wha' make brown, en cedar en sweet gum wha' make\npurple. Den dey make de blue cloth outer dat t'ing dat dey raise right\ndere on de plantation call indigo. Dere some uv dat indigo dat does grow\nup dere on de Sand Hills dis day en time but ain' nobody ne'er worry\n'bout it no more.\"\n\n\"Jes uh little way from de loom house wuz de shoe house whey Uncle\nLon'on hadder make shoe aw de day. I 'member dey is make aw de\nplantation shoe dere. Make em outer cow hide wha' dey hadder tan fust.\nJes put de cow hide in uh trough en kiver it aw o'er wid oak en water en\nle' it soak till de hair come offen it. Den dey take it outer dat en\nbeat it 'cross uh log hard uz dey c'n till dey ge' it right soft lak.\nA'ter dat ley out de shoe lak dey wan' it en sew it up wid dem long hair\nwha' dey ge' outer de hosses neck. Dat jes de way dey make aw we shoe\nden.\"\n\n\"Minus en Chrissus Gause hab job dere to de gin house. Dey'ud jes put de\ncotton in dat gin en de seed go one way en de lent go de udder way.\nMinus hadder feed de gin en dem udder helper hadder hand de cotton. Den\nBacchus hadder work de screw dat press de bale togedder. Yunnah chillun\nain' ne'er see nuthin lak dat dese days. Dem hosses pull dat t'ing round\nen round en dat screw ge' tighter en tighter. Turn out pretty uh bale uv\ncotton us yunnah e'er hear 'bout in no time tall. My Lawd, I 'member dey\nis hab bale uv cotton pile up aw 'bout dat gin house.\"\n\n\"En dey is hab dey own blacksmith shop dere on de place down to de place\ncall de big water. Aw dem peoples from plantation aw 'bout come dere fa\nFortune to mend dey plow en t'ing lak dat.\"\n\n\"Yas'um, plantation peoples hadder go dere to de Ole Neck Chu'ch eve'y\nSunday. I hear em say dat wuz uh Methodist Chu'ch. Aw dem well to do\nfolks hab dey own pew up dere in de front uv de chu'ch wha dey set on\neve'y Sunday. Dey seat wuz painted pretty lak uh bedstead en den de poor\npeoples set in de middle uv de chu'ch in de yellow kind uv seat. Aw de\ncolored peoples hadder set in de blue seat in de back uv de chu'ch.\nPeoples ne'er rank togedder den lak yah see de peoples rank togedder\ndese days. Miss Susan Stevenson en Miss Harriett Woodberry en Miss\nMaggie McWhite wuz de ones wha' pull togedder den. Know dey chillun time\ndey hit dat chu'ch door. C'n tell em by dey skin. My blessed, chillun,\ndere wuz sech uh diffe'ence.\"\n\n\"Dat Ole Neck Chu'ch de same chu'ch wha' yunnah see stand two mile up\ndat road. Dem peoples oughtna hadder move dat chu'ch neither cause it\nbeen dere long time 'fore dey come heah. Ain' been right to do dat. Dem\nwha' put dat chu'ch dere bury right dere in dat cemetery right 'bout\nwhey dey chu'ch wuz en dem udder peoples ain' hab no right to take dey\nchu'ch 'way a'ter dey been gone.\"\n\n\"De peoples ne'er hab no cars lak dese peoples hab 'bout heah now. My\nwhite folks hab carriage en two big ole white hosses wha' to ride to\nse'vice en whey dey wanna go den. Coase dey ne'er go aw de time lak dese\npeoples does dis day en time. Lawd, dem hosses could pull dat carriage\ntoo. Dey wuz name Selam en Prince. My Massa en Missus hab seat in de\nback uv de carriage en I hadder set up dere 'tween dem en de driver en\nnu'se dem chillun. Isaac wuz Miss Susan driver en he hab seat aw uv he\nown on de front whey he could mind de hosses. My Lawd, I 'member how I\ndid use'er lub to set up dere in Miss Susan carriage.\"\n\n\"Dese peoples dese days don' know nuthin 'bout dem times den. I 'member\nhow dey use'er sell de colored peoples offen to annuder plantation some\nuv de time. Man come dere to buy my Gran'mudder a'ter Massa Ben Gause\ndie en tell her to open she mouth so he c'n 'xamine her teeth. Say she\nsay, 'I won' do it.' Wanna know effen dey wuz sound 'fore he buy her.\nDat de way dey do when dey sell hosses.\"\n\n\"I 'member when dem Yankees come 'bout dere too. Hear Massa Jim\nStevenson say dey mus' herry en hide dey va'uables cause de Yankees wuz\ncomin' t'rough dere en sweep em out. Dey bury dey silver en dey gold\nwatch in de graveyard up in de Beech Field. (De Beech Field wuz de place\nwhey de Indian use'er camp long time ago cause de peoples use'er find aw\nkinder bead en arrow head wha' dey left dere.) Den Miss Susan put trunk\nfull uv her nice t'ing to de colored peoples house. Ain' been 'fraid de\nYankees bother em dere. Didn't no Yankees come no whey 'bout dere till\na'ter freedom 'clare en den two uv em come dere en stay right dere to de\nbig house. Dey come to 'vide outer de corn. Hab pile uv corn sot aw\n'bout de born (barn) dere wid name uv de colored peoples stick 'bout in\neve'y pile.\"\n\n\"Yas'um, I 'member dat aw right. Marry in March dere to my pa house. Us\nne'er left Massa Jim Stevenson plantation a'ter freedom 'clare. Ne'er\nwanna hunt no better libin' den we hab dere. My Lawd, dere sho' wuz big\ndoing 'bout dere when I go' hitch up to Joe Woodberry. Pa kill uh shoat\nen dey bake cake en hab aw kinder ration cook up. I hab pretty dress\nmake outer white swiss muslin wha' I marry in en aw dem peoples wuz\ndress up dat evenin'. Dat wuz pretty uh sight uz dere e'er wuz when dey\nge' to blowing dat cane en knockin' dem stick en dey aw wuz uh jiggin'\n'bout.\"\n\n\"Chillun, seem lak aw de good time gone from heah now. Peoples sho'\ngotta scuffle fa wha' dey hab dis day en time en den effen dey ge' it,\ndere ain' no sati'faction no whey 'bout it. T'ing ain' gwinna do nobody\nno good effen dey gotta worry dey head so mucha 'bout whey de next\ncomin' from.\"\n\n\"Good day, honey. Come back 'g'in. Yunnah white en I black, but I lub\nyuh.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: MOM GENIA WOODBERRY (Eugenia Woodeberry), age\n  89, colored, Britton's Neck, S.C. (Personal interview,\n  June 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, November 23, 1937=\n\n=JULIA WOODBERRY=\n\n=Ex-Slave, Age ____=\n\n\n\"Come in, child. Dis ain' nobody talkin to you from behind dat door, but\nJulia Woodberry. De door unlatch, just turn de handle en come right in\nhere whe' you can warm yourself by de stove. I tell my daughter for her\nto take de sick child en walk over dere en make Aun' Liney a visit,\nwhile I wipe round bout dis stove a little speck. Cose I ain' able to\nscour none much, but seems like dis old stove does keep everything so\nnasty up dat I can' let things bout it get too worser. No, child, I tell\ndese chillun I done seen most all my scourin days, but I think bout I\nwould do this little job for Alexa dis mornin en let her put her mind to\ndat child. I say, if I able, I loves to wipe up cause it such a\nsatisfaction. It just like dis, dere ain' nothin gwine shine dat floor\nen make it smell like I want it to, but soap en water. I don' like dese\nold stoves nohow. I ain' been raise to dem cause when I come up, de\nolden people didn' think nothin bout puttin no stoves to dey fireplaces.\nOh, dey would have dese big old open fireplaces en would have de\ngrandest kind of fires. My Lord, child, dere wouldn' never be no\nnastiness bout dey fireplace cause de people never didn' burn no coal in\ndem days. Slavery people been burn dese great big oak logs en dey would\nmake de finest kind of fires, I say. Yes, mam, I been raise up de\nslavery way en dat how-come I don' want to be noways departin from it.\"\n\n\"Oh, dat was my granddaughter dat had de straw fever. Yes, mam, look\nlike she mendin right smart since she been settin up. De straw fever,\ndat what I calls it, but I hear people say it de hay fever. De doctor,\nhe just say it de fever, but from de way he give de pills, it point to\nde straw fever. Cose dat what we termed it, but like I tell you, some\ncalls it de hay fever. I ain' never hear talk of dat kind of fever till\ndese late years. Yes, mam, she had a little cold en cough some, but not\nmuch. You see, when she first took down, she took wid a blindness en a\npain in de stomach at de school en couldn' say nothin. De doctor say de\nfever was bout broke on her den. You see, she had de pain en, I say, dat\na sign de misery broke on her. But dat child, she lay dere on dat bed\nthree weeks en she been mighty weak, mighty weak from de fever. No, mam,\nshe ain' have de fever all de time, but dere would come a slow fever dat\nwould rise on her every night en eat up what strength she had caught\ndurin de day. Cose she ain' never been hearty cause she been havin dis\nfever long bout two years. No, mam, she been test for de T.B.'s in de\nschool dis last year en dey say dat she never had none of dat. Alexa\nsay she gwine let her get dem shots in time next year. All de school\nchillun took dem last year. Dey tell me dat be to keep diseases down in\nschool. Cose I don' know nothin bout it cause I been raise de slavery\nway en dat won' de talk den.\n\n\"My mother, she was a freeborn woman. She come from off de sea beach in\nour own country. Her people was dese Chee Indians en she didn' have no\nways like dese other people bout here. Now, I talkin out of her. Ain'\ntalkin out of nobody else, but her. She told me she was born on de sea\nbeach en her parents was Chee Indians. Dat what she told us chillun.\nSay, when dey stole her en her brother John, dey come dere in dese big\nold covered wagons en dey stuffed dem way back up in dere en carried dem\noff. Oh, she say, she was a big girl when dey run her down en caught\nher. Like I tell you, I talkin out of her. Her en her brother John was\nout playin one day, near their sea beach home, en first thing dey know,\ndere come one of dem big old covered wagons dere. Say, dey never know\nwhat to think till dey see dis white man gettin down off de wagon en\nstart makin for dem en dey get scared cause dey been learn white man\nwon' no friend. Say, dey broke en run, but de man come right after dem\nen grabbed dem up wid his hands en stuffed dem way back up in de covered\nwagon en drove off. She say, she was runnin hard as she could from de\nman. I remember, I heard my mother speak bout dat she didn' reckon her\nmother ever knew whe' dey went. She say, dey cried en cried, but dat\nnever do no good. No, mam, de lawyer Phillips stole her. He didn' buy\nher cause she told me dey brought dem right on to his home en put dem\nout dere. Her en her brother John were made house servants in de big\nhouse en dey went from one to de other in de Phillips' family till after\nfreedom come here. Ma, she say dat she fared good en dey didn' ill treat\nher no time, but wouldn' never allow dem to get out de family no more\ndurin slavery days. No, mam, she never didn' have no hard time comin up.\nCose she had to put de white people chillun to bed at night en den she\ncould go to parties cross Catfish much as she wanted to, but she would\nhave to be back in time to cook dat breakfast next mornin. You see, dey\nwas house servants en dey stayed right dere in de lawyer Phillips' house\nall de time. Been raise right down dere in dat grove of cedars cross\nfrom de jail.\"\n\n\"Well, she didn' say bout dat. No, mam, she didn' have no word bout whe'\nif she liked de white folks livin or no when she first come dere. You\nknow, when you in Rome, you has to do as Rome do. Reckon dat de way de\npoor creature took it. No, child, she didn' tell us nothin bout her home\nno more den dat she was born a Chee Indian. Yes, mam, my blessed old\nmother told me dat a thousand times.\"\n\n\"My God, my God, child, I couldn' never forget my old mother's face. She\nbore a round countenance all de time wid dese high cheek bones en\nstraight hair. I talkin out of her now. Yes, mam, can see Ma face dere\nfore my eyes right now. It de blessed truth, my old mother didn' have no\ncommon ways bout her nowhe'. I don' know whe' it true or no, but de\npeople used to say I took after my mother. I recollects, when I would be\nworkin round de white folks, dey would ax me how-come I been have dem\nkind of way bout me what was different from de other colored people. You\nknow, de Indians, dey got curious ways. My mother, she wouldn' never\ntake a thing from nobody en she was sharp to pick a fight. Yes, mam, she\nwas quick as dat. (Slaps her hands together.) Been fast gettin insulted.\nAnybody make her mad, she would leave away from dem en dey wouldn' see\nher no more in a month or two. Hear boss say dat she was quick\ntempered.\"\n\n\"Well, child, dat bout all I can know to speak bout dis mornin. You see,\nsome days I can get my 'membrance back better den I can on another day.\nI say, I gwine get my mind fixed up wid a heap to tell you de next time\nyou come here en if you ain' come back, I gwine try en get round dere to\nyour house. God bless you, honey.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Julia Woodberry, Ex-Slave, Age 70-80, Marion, S.C.\n  Personal interview by Annie R. Davis, Nov., 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, November 30, 1937=\n\n=JULIA WOODBERRY=\n\n=Ex-Slave, Age= ____\n\n\n\"Oh, my God a mercy, child, dat been a time when dat shake come here. I\ntell you, dat been somethin. I sho remember all bout dat cause I been a\ngrown woman de year dat earthquake come here. Yes, mam, I gwine tell it\nto you just like I experience it. We had all just been get over wid us\nsupper en little things dat night en I had washed Auntie en Mr. Rowell's\nfeet for dem to lie down en dere come such a sketch of clouds from over\nin dat direction dat I never know what to make of it. Auntie en Mr.\nRowell never know what to make of it neither. I remember, I run out to\nhelp my sister dat been out to de paddlin block en, honey, you ain'\nnever live to see no black cloud like dat been. I washed a piece through\nen den I left off en went back in de house en set down by de fire to dry\nmy feet. I set dere awhile en seems like somethin just speak right out\nde fire, bout dat time, en tell me to move my feet dat I was in bad\nshape. En, child, it de truth of mercy, dere come a big clog of dirt out\ndat chimney en drap (drop) right down in de spot whe' my foot was. I run\nto Auntie en Mr. Rowell to see could dey tell what dat was, but dey been\nin just as much darkness as I been. I look up en seems like de loft had\nlowered itself en could hear a roarin for miles en miles bout dere en\ncould hear de people hollerin every which a way. Yes, mam, could hear\ndem hollerin miles en on top of miles bout dere. My God, dem people was\nscared to lie down dat night en such a prayin en a shoutin as everybody\ndo dat night, I ain' never see de like fore den. Ain' see de like since\nden neither. Next mornin, I go to work for de white folks en dey all go\noff dat mornin en I tell you, I was scared bout to death in dat big\nhouse by myself. I remember, I left out de house en been out in de\n'tatoe patch grabblin 'tatoes right along en when I raise up, dat thing\nwas comin down dat 'tatoe row just a whirlin en a makin right for me.\nYes, mam, I been so scared. I ain' see whe' I is grow a bit since de\nshake. I tell you, I thought it was de Jedgment. Den we hear dere was\ngwine be another earthquake, but de people get on dey knees en dey stay\non dey knees en it never come here dat time. Dat one was in another\nstate, so dey tell me. I hear talk dat all de earth caved in en you\ncould see de people down dere, but couldn' nobody get dem. Some people\nsay dat been de devil do dat, but I tell dem de devil ain' had no such\npower. De Lord been de power dat bring dat shake here, I say.\"\n\n\"Oh, Lord, de people sho fared better in dat day en time den dey do dese\ndays. Cose dey didn' have a heap of different kind of trashy things like\ndey have dese days, but dey had a plenty to eat en a plenty to wear all\nde time en den everything was better in dem times, too. Now, I speak\nbout what I know bout. De rations eat better en de cloth wear better,\ntoo, in dem days den dey do now. You see, mostly, de people would make\ndey own provisions at home. White folks would raise abundance of hogs en\ncows to run all dey big plantation from one year to de other. Wouldn'\nnever clear out of meat no time cause de stock been let loose to run at\nlarge in dem days. De most dat dey bought was dey sugar en dey coffee,\nbut dem what was industrious en smart, dey made most dey victuals at\nhome. Made dey own rice en winnowed it right dere home. Oh, dey had one\nof dese pestle en mortar to beat it out. Yes, mam, de pestle been big at\none end an little at de other end. Den dey would raise turkeys en geese\nen chickens en dere wasn' no end to de birds en squirrels en rabbits en\nfish in dat day en time. Dat is, dem what cared for demselves, dey had\nall dem things. Cose dere was some den like dere be now dat been too\nlazy to work en dey hand was empty all de time. I remember, dem\npoorbuckras would just go bout from one house to another en catch\nsomethin here, dere en yonder.\"\n\n\"Den de people never wore none of dese kind of clothes like de people\nwear dese days neither. When a person got a dress den, dey made it\ndemselves en dey made dey own underskirts den, too. You see, all dese\nunderskirts en bloomers like de people does buy dese days, dey didn'\nhave nothin like dat den. Used to put 10 yard in a dress en 10 yards in\na underskirt en would tuck dem clean up to dey waist. En, child, when\ndey would iron dat dress, it would stand up in de floor just like dere\nbeen somebody in it. When I say iron, I talkin bout de people would iron\nden, too. Yes, mam, when I come along, de people been take time to iron\ndey garments right. Oh, dey clothes would be just as slick as glass.\nWon' a wrinkle nowhe' bout dem. Another thing, dey used to have dese\ndove colored linen dusters dat dey would wear over dey dress when dey\nwould ride to church. Den when dey went in de church, dey would pull dem\noff en put dem on again when dey started home. Dey was made sort of like\na coat suit, except dey was a little fuller en would come clean down to\nde tail of de dress. You see, dey was meant to protect de dress while\ndey was gwine along de road.\"\n\n\"De world sho gwine worser dese days, honey. Oh, Lord, de people worser.\nYes, mam, dey worser, I say. Dey ain' got de mother wit. Dey weaker en\ndey wiser, I say, but dey ain' got de mother wit. Can' set down en talk\nto de people dese days en dey take dat what you got to say in like dey\nused to. En de people don' take de time to teach de chillun to know\ngood things like dey used to en dat how-come dey have more time to get\nin so much of devilment dese days. Yes, mam, de people used to have more\nchillun en dey raised dem, too. Chillun know more den grown people do\ndese days, I say. People used to know how to carry demselves en take\ncare of demselves more den dey do now. Seems like, de people more\nrattlin en brazen den what dey used to be.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Julia Woodberry, colored, Marion, S.C.--Age, 70-80.\n  Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 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, November 5, 1937=\n\n=JULIA WOODBERRY=\n\n=Ex-Slave, Age ____=\n\n\n\"Well, I can speak bout what I used to hear my auntie en my mammy en my\ngrandmammy talk bout what happen in dey day, but I never didn' live in\nslavery time. My mammy, she been broke her leg long time fore freedom\ncome here en I remember she tell me often times, say, 'Julia, you didn'\nlack much of comin here a slavery child.' Honey, I mean she been in de\nfamily way right sharp fore freedom come here.\n\n\"My mammy, she was raise right down dere to de other side de jail to de\n'Cedars'. You know dere whe' all dem cedars round dat house what bout to\nfall down. She belong to de lawyer Phillips dere en he wouldn' never\nallow her to get out de family. She had been a free woman fore he had\nstole her off de sea beach to be his house woman. Yes, mam, stole my\nmammy en uncle John, too, off de sea beach, but uncle John went back\nafter freedom come here. My mammy, she been raise from just a child to\nbe de house woman dere to de lawyer Phillips en she never didn' know\nnothin bout choppin cotton till her last baby been bout knee high.\n\n\"I remember how my mammy used to tell me bout dat de colored people won'\nallowed to go from one plantation to another widout dey had a 'mit\n(permit) from dey Massa. Yes, mam, all de niggers had to have dat strip\nsomewhat bout dem to keep from gettin a beatin. Couldn' leave dey home\nwidout showin dat 'mit from dey Massa. You see, de nigger men would\nwant to go to see dey wives en dey would have to get a 'mit from dey\nMassa to visit dem. Cose dey wouldn' live together cause dey wives would\nbe here, dere en yonder. It been like dis, sometimes de white folks\nwould sell de wife of one of dey niggers way from dey husband en den\nanother time, dey would sell de husband way from dey wife. Yes, mam,\nwhite folks had dese guard, call patroller, all bout de country to catch\nen whip dem niggers dat been prowl bout widout dat strip from dey Massa.\nI remember I hear talk dey say, 'Patroller, Patroller, let nigger pass.'\nDey would say dat if de nigger had de strip wid dem en if dey didn' have\nit, dey say, 'Patroller, Patroller, cut nigger slash.'\"\n\n\"Child, I tell you dat been a day to speak bout. When I come along, de\nwomen never vote, white nor colored, en it been years since I see a\ncolored person vote, but I remember dey been gwine to vote in dat day en\ntime just like dey was gwine to a show. Oh, honey, de road would be full\nof dem. Dey had to vote. Remember, way back dere, everybody would be\nsingin en a dancin when dey had de election:\n\n    'Hancock ride de big gray horse,\n    Hampton ride de mule,\n    Hancocks got elected,\n    Buckras all turn fool.\n    Buggety, buggety, buggety etc.'\"\n\n\"White en black was all in a row dere dancin all night long. Ain' made\nno exception.\"\n\n\"I hear talk dat when freedom come here, de niggers was just turn loose\nto make dey livin de best way dey could. Say dat some of de white folks\ngive dey niggers somethin to go on en some of dem didn' spare dem\nnothin. Dey tell me old Sherman didn' come through dis section of de\ncountry, but he sent somebody to divide out de things like so much corn\nen so much meat to de colored people. Now, I talkin bout dat what I hear\nde old people say. Put everything in Ben Thompson hand to deal out de\ncolored people share to dem. Yes, mam, he was de one had de chair. Talk\nbout Sherman give Ben Thompson de chair, sayin what I hear de old people\nsay. I don' know exactly how it was, it been so long since de old people\ntalk wid me. Dat it, it been so long till God knows, I forgot.\"\n\n\"Well, I used to know a heap of dem songs dat I hear my auntie en my\ngrandmammy sing dere home when I was comin up. Let me see, child, dey\nwas natural born song too.\n\n    'I got somethin to tell you,\n    Bow-hoo, oo-hoo, oo-hoo.\n    I got somethin to tell you,\n    Bow-hoo, oo-hoo, oo-hoo.\n    In a bow-hoo, oo-oo-hoo.\n\n    Way cross de ocean,\n    'Mongst all dem nation,\n    Massa Jesus promise me,\n    He gwine come by en by,\n    He gwine come by en by.\n\n    Dere many miles round me,\n    De curried be so bold,\n    To think dat her son, Jesus,\n    Could write widout a pen,\n    Could write widout a pen.\n\n    De very next blessin dat Mary had,\n    She had de blessin of two,\n    To think dat her son, Jesus,\n    Could bring de crooked to straight,\n    Could bring de crooked to straight.'\"\n\n\"Dat was my auntie's grandmother Eve piece way back yonder in slavery\ntime. Dat was her piece.\"\n\n\"It just like I tellin you, dat been a day to speak bout. I remember\nwhen dey used to spin en weave all de cloth right dere home. Yes, mam, I\nwore many a wove dress to church. Dey would get dis here indigo en all\nkind of old bark out de woods en boil it in de pot wid de yarn en make\nde prettiest kind of colors. Den dey would take dat colored yarn en\nweave all kind of pretty streaks in de cloth. Dey would know just as\ngood how many yards of dat thread it would take to make so much of\ncloth.\"\n\n\"Yes, mam, I know dere been better livin long time ago den dere be now.\nKnow it cause I didn' never have no worryations no time when I was comin\nup. My God, child, I couldn' make a support today if I know my neck had\nto be hung on de gallows. No, mam, dis here a sin cussed world de people\nlivin in dis day en time.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Julia Woodberry, colored, Marion, S.C.\n  Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, October-November, 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, November 16, 1937=\n\n=JULIA WOODBERRY=\n\n=Ex-Slave, Age ____=\n\n\n\"No, mam, I ain' thought bout nothin no more to tell you. Death been in\nde family en seems like I just been so worried up wid my daughter sick\nin de house dere wid de straw fever. De doctor, he say it de fever en\ndat all we know, but it acts like de straw fever all up en down. I tell\ndem chillun dere de other night dat I would have to go back en get my\nmind fixed up wid somethin to speak bout fore you come here another\ntime. Yes, mam, have to get my mind together somewhe' or another.\"\n\n\"I been born down dere in Britton's Neck, but most my days was lived up\nto Mr. Jim Brown's place to Centenary. My father, he was name Friday\nWoodberry en my mother, she come from off de sea beach in slavery time,\nso she told me. Say dat her old Massa stole her en her brother John,\ntoo, from off de sea beach. When freedom come here, her brother John\nwent back to de sea beach, but my mother say dat she won' in no shape to\ngo back. She went from family to family till after freedom was declared\nen her white folks wouldn' never have her ill-treated neither en wouldn'\nnever let nobody else have her no time. When she was let loose from de\nwhite people, she went to Britton's Neck wid a colored woman. You see,\nshe was a stranger to de country bout dere fore freedom come en she\nbeen know dat woman en dat how-come she went wid her. I mean she didn'\nknow de people bout dere cause de white folks didn' allow dey colored\npeople to go bout much in slavery time. Couldn' go nowhe' widout dey had\na ticket wid dem. She stayed dere in Britton's Neck till Pa died en den\nshe come back up here to Marion to live, but her white people was\nscattered all bout den.\"\n\n\"No, mam, I ain' never marry cause you had to court on de sly in dat day\nen time. I tell you, I come through de devil day when I come along. I\nwas learned to work by de old, old slavery way en, honey, I say dat I\njust as soon been come through slavery day as to come under a tight\ntaskmassa dat was colored. Yes, mam, if I never did a thing right, my\ndress was over my head en I was whipped right dere. I was engaged by\nletter, but dey kept me under dey foot so close till I never didn' slip\nde hay. I remember, I was stayin dere wid Mary Jane Rowell en she kept\nme cowed down so worser, I never couldn' do nothin.\"\n\n\"I tell you, I been a grown girl dere when I leave Mary Jane Rowell's\nhouse en go to cookin en a washin for Miss (Mrs.) Louise Brown. Yes,\nchild, I love Miss Louise Brown to dis very day cause she been just like\na mother to me. Yes, mam, Miss Brown was just as good to me as she could\nbe. Mr. Jim Brown, he give me a house dere on his plantation to live in\njust to do de house work to de big house, but seems like de other\ncolored people on de plantation would be tryin to down me most all de\ntime cause I was workin ahead of dem. I know I would go dere to work\nmany a mornin cryin, from what dem niggers been mouthin bout me, en Miss\nBrown would cry right along wid me. I tell you, Miss Brown was a tender\nhearted woman, so to speak bout. I tell Miss Brown, 'Carolina say I\nstole a towel off de line.' En Miss Brown say, 'Julia, if dere a towel\ngone off dat line, I know whe' it gone.' No, child, I ain' never think\nbout to lay no shame on dese hands. White folks been used to leave money\nall bout whe' I bresh (brush) en dust en I ain' never had no mind to\ntouch it no time. Yes, mam, I been through a day since I come here.\nErelong I move out Mary Jane Rowell's house, I been in white people\nhouse. If it ain' one class, it another. De very day dat Dr. Dibble been\npronounce me to de hospital, dey come after me to wait on a woman. Yes,\nmam, Julia Woodberry ain' beat de state no time. Oh, I tell you, it de\nGod truth, I has done every kind of work in my life. Me en my three\nchillun dere run a farm just like a man. Why, honey, you ain' know I had\nthree girls? Yes, mam, dem chillun been born en bred right dere in de\ncountry to Centenary.\"\n\n\"I hear people talkin bout dat thing call conjurin, but I don' know what\nto say dat is. It somethin I don' believe in. Don' never take up no\ntime wid dat cause it de devil's work. Dat de olden talk en I don' think\nnothin bout dat. Don' want nobody round me dat believes in it neither.\nDon' believe in it. Don' believe in it cause dat en God spirit don' go\ntogether. I hear talk dat been belong to de devil, but I was so small, I\ncouldn' realize much what to think cause dat what you hear in dem days,\nyou better been hear passin. No, mam, dey knock chillun down in dat day\nen time dat dey see standin up lookin in dey eyes to hear. I has heard\npeople say dat dey could see spirits, but I don' put no mind to dat no\ntime. I believe dat just a imagination cause when God get ready to take\nyou out dis world, you is gone en you gone forever, I say. Don' believe\nin no hereafter neither cause dey say I been born wid veil over my face\nen if anybody could see spirits, I ought to could. I know I has stayed\nin houses dat people say was hanted plenty times en I got to see my\nfirst hant yet. Yes, mam, I do believe in de Bible. If I hadn' believed\nin de Bible, I wouldn' been saved. Dere obliged to be a hereafter\naccordin to de Bible. Dere obliged to be a hereafter, I say. I can'\nread, but I talkin what I hear de people say. Dat a infidel what don'\nbelieve dere a hereafter.\"\n\n\"How-come I know all dat, I was raise up wid de old people. Come along\nright behind de old race en I would be dere listenin widout no ears en\nseein widout no eyes. Yes, mam, I took what I hear in, lady, en I ain'\nbeen just now come here. I been here a time. Dat de reason I done wid de\nworld. God knows I is done. I is done. I recollects, way back yonder, Pa\nwould sing:\n\n    'Dey ain' had no eyes for to see,\n    Dey ain' had no teeth for to eat,\n    En dey had to let de corncake go,\n    Gwine whe' all de good niggers go.'\"\n\n\"Dat was my father's piece dat he used to sing in slavery time. Dat\nright cause I can remember back more so den I can forward.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Julia Woodberry, colored, age--about 70 to 75.,\n  Marion, S.C.\n  Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 1937.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885 -1-=\n =District #4=\n =Spartanburg, S.C.=\n =June 1, 1937=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =E. Fronde Kennedy=\n\n=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=\n\n\nWhile looking for an ex-slave in a certain part of Spartanburg this\nmorning, I was directed across the street to \"an old man who lives\nthere\". I knocked at the door but received no answer. Then I noticed an\nold man walking around by the side of the house. He was tall and\nstraight, standing about 6 feet 2 inches. He said that his name was\nGeorge Wood and that he was 78 years of age.\n\nHe stated that he was born during slavery, and lived on Peter Sepah's\nplace in York County. Peter Sepah's farm, where he was born, was near\nthe North Carolina line; it consisted of approximately 200 acres. His\nparents were named Dan and Sarah Wood. His mother was given to old man\nSepah by his father as a wedding present, and his grandfather had been\ngiven to an older Sepah by his parent as a wedding present. He said it\nwas the custom in slavery times that a slave be given to the son or\ndaughter by the white people when they got married.\n\nHe was too young to work, but about the time the war was over, he was\nallowed to drive the horses that pulled the thrasher of wheat. His\nmaster used to walk around and around while the wheat was being\nthrashed, and see that everybody was doing their work all right. His\nfather lived on another plantation. There was only one family of slaves\non the whole plantation. He, his mother, and five children lived in a\none-room log cabin about 30 or 40 feet from the \"big house\". Their beds\nconsisted of straw mattresses. They had plenty to eat, having the same\nfood that the white folks did. They ate ash cakes mostly for bread, but\nonce a week they had biscuits to eat. When the wheat was thrashed, they\nhad biscuits mostly for breakfast; but as the wheat got scarcer they did\nnot have much wheat to eat. He said that Buffalo Creek flowed pretty\nclose to their place and that the creek emptied into Broad River.\nShelby, N.C., their market, was about ten miles distant. He thinks that\nit was easier then than now to get something to eat.\n\nThe log cabin where he and his mother lived was kept comfortably warm in\nthe winter time. All they had to do, was to go to the wood-pile and get\nall the wood they needed for the fire. His mother worked on the farm,\nwashed clothes and helped with the cooking at his master's house. The\nslaves stopped work every Saturday afternoon about three o'clock; then\nhis mistress would have his mother to patch their clothes, as she did\nnot like to see their clothes needing patching. \"We used to have lots of\nfun,\" he said, \"more than the children do now. As children, we used to\nplay marbles around the house; but no other special game.\"\n\nUncle George said that the patrollers saw that the colored people were\nin their houses at 8 o'clock every night. \"They would come to the house\nand look in; of course, if a man had a pass to another plantation or\nsome place, that was all right; or if he had some business somewhere.\nBut everybody had to be in the house by 8 o'clock.\" He also stated that\nif a slave strayed off the plantation and didn't have a pass, if he\ncould out-run the \"pateroller\" and get back upon his own place, then he\nwas all right. The only slave he ever saw get a whipping, was one who\nhad stayed out after hours; then a switch was used on him by a\n\"pateroller\". He said he never saw any slaves in chains or treated\nbadly, for his master was a good man, and so was his \"Missus\". One day\nhis mother went to a church that was not her own church. On coming back,\nshe saw a \"pateroller\" coming behind her. She began to run, and he did\ntoo; but as he caught up with her, she stepped over a fence on her\nmaster's place and dared the \"pateroller\" to do anything to her. He\ndidn't do a thing and would not get over the fence where she was, as he\nwould have been on somebody's place besides his own.\n\nHe said that when the corn-shucking time came, both whites and blacks\nwould gather at a certain plantation. Everybody shucked corn, and they\nall had a good time. When the last ear of corn was shucked, the owner of\nthe plantation would begin to run from the place and all would run after\nhim. When they caught him, he was placed on the shoulders of two men and\ncarried around and around the house, all singing and laughing and having\na good time. Then they would carry the man into his house, pull off his\nhat and throw it into the fire; place him in a chair; comb his head;\ncross his knees for him and leave him alone. They would not let him\nraise a second crop under his old hat--he had to have a new hat for a\nnew crop. Then they would all, colored and white, gather to eat. The\nowner of the farm would furnish plenty to eat; sometimes he would have\nsome whiskey to drink, but not often, \"as that was a dangerous thing to\nhave\".\n\nHe said that if a man who was chewing or smoking met a woman, he would\nthrow his tobacco away before talking with the woman.\n\nThere was plenty of fruit in those days, so brandy was made and put into\nbarrels in the smoke-house; and the same way they had plenty of corn,\nand would put up a still and put the whiskey they made into barrels.\n\nPeople in those days, he said, had \"manners\". The white and colored\nfolks would have their separate sections in the church where they sat.\n\"I've seen a white man make another white man get up in church and give\nhis place to a colored man when the church was crowded.\" He said his\nfather was baptized by Rev. Dixon, father of Tom Dixon, who was a\nBaptist preacher. His mother was sprinkled by a Methodist white\npreacher, but he was baptized by a colored preacher.\n\nAsked about marriages among the slaves, he said the ceremony was\nperformed by some \"jack-legged\" colored preacher who pronounced a few\nwords and said they were man and wife.\n\nHe said the colored people did not know much about Jeff Davis or Abraham\nLincoln except what they heard about them. All that he remembered was a\nsong that his Missus used to sing:\n\n    \"Jeff Davis rides a big gray horse,\n    Lincoln rides a mule;\n    Jeff Davis is a fine old man,\n    And Lincoln is a fool.\"\n\nAnother song was:\n\n    \"I'll lay $10 down and number them one by one,\n    As sure as we do fight 'em,\n    The Yankees will run.\"\n\nOne day his \"Missus\" came to their house and told his mother they were\nfree and could go anywhere they wanted to, but she hoped they would\nstay on that year and help them make a crop. He said his mother just\nfolded her hands and put her head down and \"studied\". She decided to\nstay on that year. The next year, they moved to another plantation,\nwhere they stayed for twenty years.\n\n\"Before they were free, every colored man took the name of his master,\nbut afterwards, I took my father's name.\"\n\nHe said that the Yankee soldiers did not come to their place, but they\nwere ready for them if they had come. The silver was buried out in the\nlot, and stable manure was piled and thrown all about the spot. The two\ngood horses were taken off and hidden, but the old horse his master\nowned was left. He said that sometimes a Confederate soldier would come\nby riding an old horse, and would want to trade horses with his master.\nSometimes his master would trade, for he thought his horse would be\ntaken anyway. His master would never get anything \"to boot\", as the\nsoldier didn't have the \"to boot\" when the trade was made. So the\nsoldier would ride off the horse, leaving the poor, broken-down one\nbehind. Sometimes after the war, the Confederate soldiers would come by\nthe house, sick, wounded and almost starved; but his mistress would fix\nsomething to eat for them; then they would go on.\n\n\"'Possum and 'taters were plentiful then. When a slave wanted to go\nhunting, he could go; but we had to work then--nobody works now.\" He\nsaid that on rainy days, his mother did not have to go to the field, but\nstayed at home and sewed or carded. He said that after freedom came to\nthe slaves, he worked on a farm for $5.00 a month. After he had been on\nthe farm for many years, he heard that Spartanburg was on a boom, so he\ncame here and worked at railroading for many more years. He has quit\nwork now; but still does a little gardening for some white folks. He\nsaid that the white people in the South understand the colored people.\n\nWhen asked if he had ever seen a ghost, he replied that he had never\nseen one and had never seen a person who had. \"I don't believe in those\nthings anyhow,\" he said. He also stated he had never heard of anybody\nbeing \"conjured\" either. He said that all the niggers in his section\nwere scared of the niggers from way down in South Carolina, for their\nreputation as conjurers was against them, so they always fought shy of\nthem and didn't have anything to do with the \"niggers from way down in\nSouth Carolina\".\n\n\n  SOURCE: George Woods, 337 N. View St., Spartanburg, S.C.\n  Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n  =Project #1655=\n  =W.W. Dixon=\n  =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=ALECK WOODWARD,=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE--83 YEARS._=\n\n\n\"You knows de Simonton place, Mr. Wood? Well, dats just where I was born\nback yonder befo' de war, a slave of old Marster Johnnie Simonton. Five\nmiles sorter south sunset side of Woodward Station where you was born,\nain't it so? My pappy was Ike Woodward, but him just call 'Ike' time of\nslavery, and my mammy was name Dinah. My brother Charlie up north, if he\nain't dead, Ike lives in Asheville, North Carolina. Two sisters: Ollie,\nher marry an Aiken, last counts, and she and her family in Charlotte,\nNorth Carolina; sister Mattie marry a Wilson nigger, but I don't know\nwhere they is.\n\n\"Us lived in a four-room log house, 'bout sixteen all told. Dere was\npappy and mammy (now you count them) gran'pappy, Henry Davis, Gran'mammy\nKisana, Aunt Anna, and her seven chillun, and me, and my two brothers\nand two sisters. How many make dat? Seventeen? Well, dat's de number\npiled in dere at night in de beds and on de floors. They was scandlous\nbeds; my God, just think of my grands, old as I is now, tryin' to sleep\non them hard beds and other folks piled 'scriminately all over de log\nfloors! My Gran'pappy Henry was de carpenter, and old marster tell him\n'if you make your beds hard, Henry, 'member you folks got to sleep on\nthem.'\n\n\"I was just a little black feller, running 'round most of de time in my\nshirt tail, but I recollect pickin' cotton, and piddling 'round de\nwoodpile, fetchin' in wood for white house and chips and kindling to\nfresh up de fires. Us had plenty to eat, 'cause us killed thirty-five\nhogs at a time, and de sausages and lights us did was a sight. Then de\nlard us made, and de cracklin' bread, why, I hungers for de sight of\nthem things right now. Us niggers didn't get white flour bread, but de\ncracklin' bread was called on our place, 'de sweet savor of life.'\n\n\"Money? Us had eyes to see and ears to hear, but us just hear 'bout it,\nnever even seen money.\n\n\"My marster had a fish pond, signs of it dere yet.\n\n\"My white folks attended church at Concord Presbyterian Church. Us went\ndere too, and us set up in de gallery. Yes, they asked us. De preacher\nasked us to jine in some of de hymns, especially 'De Dyin' Thief' and\n'De Fountain Filled Wid Blood,' and dat one 'bout 'Mazing Grace How\nSweet de Sound Dat Save a Wretch Like us.'\n\n\"Our young Marster Charlie went off to de war, got killed at Second Bull\nRun. Marster Watt went and got a leg shot off somewheres. Marster Jim\nwent and got killed, Johnnie too, Marster Robert was not old enough to\ncarry a gun.\n\n\"De young mistresses was Mary and Martha. Marster John, old mistress and\nall of them mighty good to us, especially when Christmas come and then\nat times of sickness. They send for de doctor and set up wid you, such\ntendin' to make you love them. When de Yanks come us all plead for\nMarster John and family, and de house not to be burnt. De house big, had\nten rooms, big plantation, run fifteen plows.\n\n\"You ask 'bout was dere any poor white folks 'round? Not many, but I\n'members old Miss Sallie Carlisle weaved and teached de slaves how it\nwas done. Marster give her a house to live in, and a garden spot on de\nplace, good woman. She show me how to spin and make ball thread, little\nas I was. Marster John had over fifty slaves, and they worked hard, sun\nup to sun down. It's a wonder but I never got a whippin'.\n\n\"Did I ever see a ghost? Mr. Wood, I seen sumpin' once mighty strange, I\nwas gwine to see a gal Nannie, on de widow Mobley place, and had to pass\n'tween two graveyards, de white and de colored. She was de daughter of\nRev. Richard Cook. When I was just 'bout de end of de white graveyard, I\nsaw two spirits dressed in white. I run all de way to de gal's house and\nsob when I got dere. I laid my head in her lap and told her 'bout de\nspirits and how they scared me. I still weepin' wid fear, and she\nconsole me, rub my forehead and soothed me. When I got quiet, I asked\nher some day to be my wife, and dat's de gal dat come to be years after,\nmy wife. Us walk to church hand and hand ever afterwards, and one day\nPreacher Morris, white man, made us husband and wife. I 'members de song\nde white folks sung dat day. 'Hark from de tomb a doleful sound'. Don't\nyou think dat a wrong song to sing on a weddin' day? 'Joy to de World,'\nwas in our heart and dat tune would have been more 'propriate, seems to\nme.\n\n\"Marster John give de slaves every other Saturday after dinner in busy\nseasons, and every Saturday evening all other weeks. Us had two doctors,\nDoctor Brice at first, and when he git old, us had Doctor Lurkin.\n\n\"Was glad when marster called us up and told us we was free. De Yankees\nmade a camp on de Doctor Brice place, and foraged de country all 'round.\nThey made me run after chickens and I had to give up my onliest blue hen\ndat I had. My pappy was took off by them to Raleigh, wid dat I 'member,\nwas de saddest day of slavery time.\n\n\"Nannie and me, under de providence of de Lord Jehovah, has had three\nchillun to live, and they have chillun too. I owns my own home and land\nenough to live on, though it is hard to make both ends meet some years.\n\n\"How I got my name, you ask dat? Well, after freedom us niggers had to\ncome to Winnsboro and register. Us talk 'bout it by de fireside what us\nwould lak. When us come, Marster Henry Gaillard had a big crowd of\nGaillard niggers 'bout him beggin' for names. One of them say, 'Marster\nHenry, I don't want no little name, I wants big soundin' name.' Marster\nHenry write on de paper, then he read: 'Your name is Mendozah J.\nFernandez, hope dats big enough for you.' De little nigger dwarf seem\npowerful pleased and stepped to de register. De rest of us spoke to\nCaptain Gaillard and he said no better name than Woodward, so us took\ndat name. Its been a kind of a 'tection to us at times, and none of our\nimmediate family has ever dragged it in a jail or chaingang, Bless God!\nand I hope us never will.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project #1655=\n =W.W. Dixon=\n =Winnsboro, S.C.=\n\n=MARY WOODWARD=\n\n=_EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD._=\n\n\n\"I knows you since you 'bout dis high (indicating). When was it? Where I\nsee you? I see you at your auntie's house. Dat was your auntie, Miss\nRoxie Mobley, other side of Blackstock. You was in a little dress dat\nday, look lak a gal. Oh! Lordy, dat been a long time! What us has come\nthru since dat day and de days befo' dat, beyond freedom.\n\n\"I was born a slave of old Marster Adam Berber, near de Catawba River\nside de county, in 1854. I's a mighty small gal but I 'members when\npappy got his leg broke at de gin-house dat day, in de Christmas week.\nSeem lak dat was de best Christmas I ever had. White folks comin' and a\ngwine, loadin' de bed down wid presents for pappy and mammy and me.\n\n\"What my pappy name? He was name Joe and mammy go by Millie. Both b'long\nto Marster Adam and Miss Nellie. Dat was her name and a lovely mistress\nshe be in dat part of de country. Her was sure pretty, walk pretty, and\nact pretty. 'Bout all I had to do in slavery time was to comb her hair,\nlace her corset, pull de hem over her hoop and say, 'You is served,\nmistress!' Her lak them little words at de last.\n\n\"They have no chillun and dat was a grief to her more than to Marster\nAdam. Him comfort her many times 'bout it and 'low it was his fault.\nThen they 'spute 'bout it. Dats all de rumpus ever was 'twixt them. I\n'spects if they had had chillun they wouldn't have been so good to me.\nWhat you reckon? They give me dolls and laugh at de way I name them,\ntalk to them and dress them up.\n\n\"When de Yankees come, I was a settin' in de swing in de front yard.\nThey ride right up and say: 'Where your mistress?' I say: 'I don't\nknow.' They say: 'You is lyin'. Give her a few lashes and us'll find\nout.' Another say: 'No, us come to free niggers, not to whip them.' Then\nthey ask me for to tell them where de best things was hid. I say: 'I\ndon't know sir.' Then they ransack de house, bust open de smoke house,\ntake de meat, hams, shoulders, 'lasses barrel, sugar, and meal, put them\nin a four-horse wagon, set de house, gin-house and barn afire and go on\ntoward Rocky Mount. Our neighbors then, was Marster Aaron Powell and\nSikes Gladden, on Dutchman Creek.\n\n\"After freedom I marry Alf Woodward. Us had chillun. How many? Let me\nsee; Eli still alive, don't know where he is though. Rosa dead; Susannah\nlive now on Miss Sara Lord's place, up dere near Metford. De rest of de\nchillun went off to Arkansas 'bout 1885, and us never heard from them.\n\n\"I forgot to tell you dat when de Yankees come and find me a settin' in\ndat swing, I had on a string of beads dat Miss Nellie give to me. Them\nrascals took my beads off my neck, and what you reckon they did wid\nthem? Well, if you doesn't know, I does. De scamps, dat is one of them\ndid, took my lovely beads and put them 'round his horse's neck and ride\noff wid them, leavin' me sobbin' my life out in dat swing. They say you\nmust love your enemies and pray for them dat spitefully use you but I\nnever have pray for dat Yankee scamp to dis day. Although I's Scotch\nIrish African 'Sociate Reform Presbyterian, de spirit have never moved\nme to pray for de horse and rider dat went off wid my beads dat my\nmistress give me. When I tell Marster William Woodward, my husband's old\nmarster, 'bout it, him say: 'De low dirty skunk, de Lord'll take\nvengeance on him.' Marster William give Alf a half a dollar and tell him\nto git me another string of beads, though Alf never done so.\n\n\"Alf was Marster William's coachman and him and Wade Pichett, dat was a\nslave of Marster William, took fifteen mules, when de Yankees come, and\ncarried them in de Wateree swamps and stayed dere and saved them. Every\ntime Alf or Wade see Marster William, as de years comed and goed, they\nfetched up de subject of them mules and git sumpin' from him. One day he\nlaugh and say: 'Look here Alf, I done 'bout pay for sixteen mules and\ndere was but fifteen in de drove.' Alf laugh but he always got way wid\nit when he see any of de Woodward white folks. Well I's glad to go now,\nthough I has 'joyed bein' wid you. De Lord bless you and keep you.\"\n\n\n\n\n =Project, 1885-(1)=\n =Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=\n =Place, Marion, S.C.=\n =Date, September 15, 1937=\n\n=PAULINE WORTH=\n\n=Ex-Slave, 79 Years=\n\n\n\"Yes'um, I know I been here in slavery time, but wasn' large enough to\ndo nothin in dat day en time. I reach 79 de first day of November. To be\ncertain dat how old I is, Miss Betty Evans give me my direct age here de\nother day. She know who I am cause I was raise near bout in de same yard\ndat she was raise in. Mr. Telathy Henry family was my white folks.\nYes'um, I was raise right here in dis town. Ain' never been nowhere else\nbut Marion.\"\n\n\"I was small den, but I remembers my old Missus. I sho remembers her all\nright. My old boss, he died. I can' remember nothin much bout dem times\nonly I recollects when my old Missus used to get after me en whip me, I\nwould run under de house. Didn' want to sweep de yard en dat how-come\nshe get after me wid a switch. I was small den en she was tryin to learn\nme.\"\n\n\"No, child, I didn' live on no plantation. Didn' have no quarter for de\nslaves dere. My white folks live in town en dey just have my mother en\nher chillun en another old man. He stayed in de kitchen en would work de\ngarden en go off on errands for de Missus. My mother en we chillun\nstayed in a little small one room house in de yard en he stayed in de\nkitchen. I wasn' large enough to do nothin much den only as like I tell\nyou, my old Missus tried to learn me to sweep de yard.\"\n\n\"I was small den, child, but I got along all right cause we ate in de\nwhite folks kitchen. Oh, no'um, dey cook in de chimney long bout de time\nI come up. No'um, didn' see no stoves nowhe' when I come up. I remembers\nwe had greens like collards en bread en potatoes to eat sometimes, but\nsay remember all what we had to eat, I couldn' never think bout to do\ndat. I just knows dat I remembers old Missus provide good livin for us\nall de time. Wouldn' let nobody suffer for nothin be dat she know bout\nit. Old Missus used to give us every speck de clothes we had to wear too\ndat was made out dis here homemade homespun cloth. You see my mother was\nde cook dere. Old Massa used to keep dry goods store en de first I know\nbout it, she get de cloth out de store to make us clothes. Den after de\nold head died, old Missus commence to buy cloth from somebody in de\ncountry cause people weave dey cloth right dere on dey own plantation in\ndat day en time. Had dese here loom en spinning wheel. I remembers old\nMissus would take out big bolt of cloth en cut out us garments wid her\nown hands. Den she would call us dere en make us try dem on en mine\nwouldn' never be nothin troublesome nowhe' bout it. I remembers I used\nto hear my Missus, when she be readin de paper speak bout Abraham\nLincoln en Jefferson Davis, but I was small den en never paid no much\nattention to it. Only cared bout my new homespun dress wid de pockets\nshinin right in de front part. My Lord, child, I been de proudest like\nof dem pockets.\"\n\n\"I hear de older people say de Yankees come en say de Yankees was here,\nbut I was small den. Dey didn' do nothin bout dere dat I know of. I was\nsmall en I didn' know. Didn' hear de older peoples say nothin bout it\nneither.\"\n\n\"Oh, we went to de white peoples service to dat big Methodist church\nright up dere in dis town what was tore down long time ago. Walked dere\nto dat church every Sunday en set up in de gallery. Dat whe' all de\nslaves had place to sit. De only thing I could remember bout gwine to\nchurch dere was what I hear dem say. Dey say, 'I believe in God the\nFather Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, etc.' Dat all I remembers\nbout gwine to church dere. Everything I remembers. Don' know as I could\ntell you dat, but I hear my mother repeat it so much when she come home\nen be teachin us our prayer. Den Missus teach us de same thing till we\nget large enough to learn de Lord's Prayer. No'mam, white folks didn'\nteach us no learnin in dat day en time. Didn' hear bout no books only\ndese almanacs. When de white folks throw dem out, dey allow us to pick\ndem up to play wid. Dat all de books we know bout.\"\n\n\"Lord, child, dat was somethin. Dat was sho a time when dat shake come\nhere. I remembers de ground be shakin en all de people was hollerin.\nYes'um, I was scared. Scared of dat noise it was makin cause I didn'\nknow but dat it might been gwine destroy me. I was hollerin en\neverybody round in de neighborhood was hollerin. Didn' nobody know what\nto think it was. Well, I tell you I thought it must a been de Jedgment\ncomin. Thought it must a been somethin like dat.\"\n\n\"I don' know nothin bout dat. It just like dis, I heard people speak\nbout conjurin, but nobody never has talked to me nothin concernin no\nconjurin. My mother wouldn' allow nobody to talk dat kind of speech to\nus. No, I ain' never seen none of dem things people say is ghost. No,\nain' seen none dat I remembers. My husband died en I was right in de\nroom wid him en I ain' see a thing. Never thought bout nothin like dat.\nThought when dey gone, dey was gone. When I was able to work, I didn'\nhave no time to bother wid dem things. Didn' have no time to take up wid\nnothin like dat. I de one dat used to cook dere to Miss Eloise Bethea's\nmamma. Dis here de one dey call Pauline.\"\n\n\"I tell you my old Missus was good to us, child, good to us all de time.\nCome bout en doctor us herself when we get sick. Wouldn' trust nobody\nelse to give us no medicine. I remember she give us castor oil en little\nsalts for some ailments. Didn' give us nothin more den dat only a little\nsage or catnip sometimes. Dat what was good for colds.\"\n\n\"I don' know, child. I can' tell which de worser days den or dese times.\nI know one thing, dey dances now more den dey used to. I don' go bout\nmuch, but I can tell you what I hear talk bout. I don' know as de people\nany worser dese days, but I hear talk bout more dances. Dat bout all.\nCoase de peoples used to dance bout, but dey didn' have dese dance halls\nlike dey have now. Didn' have none of dem kind of rousin places den. De\npeoples didn' have chance to dance in dat day en time only as dey have a\nquiltin en cornshuckin on a night. Den dey just dance bout in old Massa\nyard en bout de kitchen. Oh, dey have dem quiltin at night en would play\nen go on in de kitchen. Turn plate en different little things like dat.\nI don' know how dey do it, but I remembers I hear dem talkin somethin\nbout turnin plate. Wasn' big enough to explain nothin bout what dey\nmeant. I just knows dey would do dat en try to make some kind of motion\nlike.\"\n\n\"Honey, didn' never hear my parents tell bout no stories. My mother\nwasn' de kind to bother wid no stories like dat. She tried to always be\na Christian en she never would allow us to tarnish us souls wid nothin\nlike dat. She raise us in de way she want us to turn out to be. All dese\npeople bout here livin too fast to pay attention to raisin dey chillun\ndese days. Just livin too fast to do anything dat be lastin like. Dat\nhow-come dere be so much destructiveness bout dese days.\"\n\n\n  _Source_: Pauline Worth, age 79, ex-slave, Manning St., Marion, S.C.\n  Personal interview, Sept., 1937 by Annie Ruth Davis.\n\n\n\n\n =Project #-1655=\n =Phoebe Faucette=\n =Hampton County=\n\n =Folklore=\n\n=DAPHNEY WRIGHT=\n\n=106 Year Old Ex-Slave=\n\n\nJust around the bend from the old mill pond on the way to Davis Swimming\nPool lives a very old negro woman. Her name is Daphney Wright, though\nthat name has never been heard by those who affectionately know her as\n\"Aunt Affie\". She says she is 106 years old. She comes to the door\nwithout a cane and greets her guests with accustomed curtsey. She is\nneatly dressed and still wears a fresh white cap as she did when she\nworked for the white folks. Save for her wearing glasses and walking\nslowly, there are no evidences of illness or infirmities. She has a\nsturdy frame, and a kindly face shows through the wrinkles.\n\n\"I been livin' in Beaufort when de war fust (first) break out\", she\nbegins. \"Mr. Robert Cally was my marsa. Dat wuz in October. De Southern\nsoldiers come through Bluffton on a Wednesday and tell de white folks\nmust get out de way, de Yankees right behind 'em! De summer place been\nat Bluffton. De plantation wuz ten miles away. After we refugee from\nBluffton, we spent de fust night at Jonesville. From dere we went to\nHardeeville. We got here on Saturday evening. You know we had to ride by\nhorses--in wagons an' buggies. Dere weren't no railroads or cars den.\nDat why it take so long.\n\n\"Mr. Lawrence McKenzie wuz my Missus' child. We stayed wid him awhile,\n'til he find us a place. Got us a little house. We stayed four years\ndere, 'til de war wuz over. Dey sent de young ladies on--on farther up\nde country, to a safer place. Dey went to Society Hill. My old Missus\nstay. Sae wuz a old lady. When de Yankees come she died. I wuz right\ndere wid her when she died. She had been sickly. After de war dey all\nwent back to de old place. I had married up here, so when dey went back\nI stay on here.\n\n\"I been right here when de Yankees come through. I been in my house\nasittin' before de fire, jes' like I is now.\n\n\"One of 'em come up an' say, 'You know who I is?'\n\n\"I say, 'No.'\n\n\"He say, 'Well, I is come to set you free. You kin stay wid your old\nowners if you wants to, but dey'll pay you wages.'\n\n\"But dey sure did plenty of mischief while dey wuz here. Didn't burn all\nde houses. Pick out de big handsome house to burn. Burn down Mr. Bill\nLawton' house. Mr. Asbury Lawton had a fine house. Dey burn dat. (He\nMarse Tom Lawton' brother.) Burn Mr. Maner' house. Some had put a poor\nwhite woman in de house to keep de place; but it didn't make no\ndifference.\n\n\"De soldiers say, 'Dis rich house don't belong to you. We goin' to burn\ndis house!'\n\n\"Dey'd go through de house an' take everything'. Take anythin' they\ncould find. Take from de white, an' take from de colored, too. Take\neverything out de house! Dey take from my house. Take somethin' to eat.\nBut I didn't have anythin' much in my house. Had a little pork an' a\nweek's supply of rations.\n\n\"De white folks would bury de silver. But dey couldn't always find it\nagain. One give her silver to de colored butler to bury but he wuz kill,\nan' nobody else know where he bury it. It wuz after de war, an' he wuz\nwalkin' down de road, an' Wheeler's Brigade kill him.\n\n\"Been years an' years 'fore everythin' could come together again. You\nknow after de war de Confederate money been confiscate. You could be\nwalkin' 'long de road anytime an' pick up a ten dollar bill or a five\ndollar bill, but it wuzn't no good to you. After de greenback come money\nflourish again.\n\n\"De plantation wuz down on de river. I live dere 'cept for de four years\nwe refugee. Dat been a beautiful place--dere on de water! When de stars\nwould come out dere over de water it wuz a beautiful sight! Sometimes\nsome of us girls would get in a little 'paddle' an' paddle out into de\nriver. We'd be scared to go too far out, but we'd paddle around.\nSometimes my father would go out in de night an' catch de fish with a\nseine. He'd come back with a bushel of fish 'most anytime. Dey were nice\nbig mullets! He'd divide 'em 'round 'mongst de colored folks. An' he'd\ntake some up to de white folks for dere breakfast. My white folks been\ngood white people. I never know no cruel. Dey treat me jes like one of\ndem. Dey say dey took me when I wuz five years old. An' I stay wid dem\n'til freedom. I am 106 years old now.\n\n\"Dem people on de water don't eat much meat. Twenty-five cent of bacon\nwill last dem a week. Dey cut de meat into little pieces, an' fry dem\ninto cracklings, den put dat into de fish stew. It surely makes de stew\ngood. When dey kill a hog dey take it to town an' sell it, den use de\nmoney for whatever dey want. Dey don't have to cure de pork an' keep it\nto eat. Dey jes' eat fish. Dey have de mullets, an' de oysters, an' de\ncrabs, an' dese little clams. Dey have oyster-stew. Dey have roast\noysters, den de raw oysters. An' dey have dey fried oysters! Dat sure is\ngood. Dey fish from de boat, dey fish from de log, an' dey fish 'long de\nedge of de water wid a net. When de tide go down you kin walk along an'\njes pick up de crab. You could get a bucket full in no time. We'd like\nto go up an' down an' pick up de pretty shells. I got one here on de\nmantel now. It ain't sech a big one, but it's a pretty little shell.\n\n\"I is always glad to talk 'bout de old times an' de old people. We is\nlivin' in peace now, but still it's hard times. We ought to be thankful\nthough our country ain't in war.\"\n\n\n  Source: Daphney Wright, Scotia, S.C.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =Folk Lore=\n =District No. 4.=\n =May 28, 1937.=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =J.J. Murray.=\n\n=STORIES OF EX-SLAVES=\n\n\nSeated on the front steps of his house, holding a walking cane and\ntalking to another old colored man from Georgia, who was visiting his\nchildren living there, the writer found \"Uncle\" Bill Young. He readily\nreplied that he had lived in slavery days, that he was 83 years old, and\nhe said that he and Sam were talking about old times.\n\nHe was owned by Dave Jeter at Santuc, S.C.; though he was just a boy at\nthe time his mother was a slave. He used to mind his \"Missus\" more than\nanybody else, as he stayed around the house more than anywhere else. His\njob, with the other boys, both white and black, was to round up the milk\ncows late every afternoon. The milk cows had to be brought up, milked\nand put up for the night; but the other cows and calves used to stay in\nthe woods all night long. Some times they would be a mile away from the\nhouse, but the boys would not mind getting them home, for they played so\nmuch together as they slowly drove the cows in.\n\nWhen asked if he got plenty to eat in slavery days, he replied that he\nhad plenty, \"a heap more than I get today to eat\". As a slave, he said\nhe ate every day that the white folks ate, that he was always treated\nkindly, and his missus would not let anybody whip him; though he had\nseen other slaves tied and whipped with a bull-whip. He said he had\nseen the blood come from some of the slaves as they were whipped across\nthe bare back. He said he had seen the men slaves stand perfectly naked\nand take a beating. He also said that he never had a whipping and that\nhis \"Missus\" wouldn't let his own mother whip him. She would say, \"Don't\ntech that boy, as he is my Nigger.\" She told him one day that he was\nfree, but he stayed right on there with her and worked for wages. He got\n$6.00 a month, all his rations, and a place to stay.\n\n\"Uncle\" Bill said there was some humor at times when a slave was to be\nwhipped. His hands and feet tied together, the slave would be laid\nacross a rail fence, feet dangling on one side and head on the other\nside; then the master would give the slave a push or shove and he would\nfall heavily on the ground on his head. Not being able to use his feet\nor his hands, the slave's efforts to catch himself before he hit the\nground was something funny. \"That was funny to us Niggers looking at it,\nbut not funny to the Nigger tied up so.\"\n\nHe said some Yankee soldiers came by the house at times, but they never\nbothered anybody on the place. \"Of-course they would take something to\neat, but they never bothered anybody.\"\n\nAfter working for Dave Jeter for many years, he moved up to Jonesville,\nwhere he married. He lived in or near Jonesville for about thirty years,\nthen he moved with his son, who was a barber, to Spartanburg, and has\nbeen here thirteen years.\n\n\"I never knew anything about rent 'til I got here. I always had a house\nto live in, raised my own feed and got my wood off the place. So when I\ngot to Spartanburg I learned what rent was. I just quit work two years\nago when I had high blood pressure; and now I ain't able to work. Do you\nsee that Nigger across the street, going to work somebody's garden?\nWell, if I didn't have high blood pressure, I'd be just as good to work\nas him.\"\n\n\"Yes sir, with my peck of meal, my three pounds of meat each week and my\n$6.00 a month wages, I had more to eat than I gets now.\"\n\n\n  SOURCE: \"Uncle\" Bill Young. 202 Young Street, Spartanburg, S.C.\n  Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg Office, Dist. 4.\n\n\n\n\n =Project 1885-1=\n =Folklore=\n =Spartanburg, Dist. 4=\n =Feb. 4, 1938=\n\n =Edited by:=\n =Elmer Turnage=\n\n=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=\n\n\n\"March 15, 1862 is de date I allus takes when folks axes how old is you.\nDat's de best, to follow one date, den no argument don't follow.\n\n\"Some see'd it powerful hard in slavery, others never see'd it so bad.\nDat 'pends on you a lot, den it 'pends on dem dat you stays wid. It\nstill like dat everywhar dat I is been, but I ain't been no further dan\nSpartanburg gwine north, and to Lyles's Ford gwine south.\n\n\"From a wee bitty baby dey teach me to serve. Befo' you serves God you\nis got to know how to serve man. De Bible speaks of us as servants of de\nLawd. Niggers can serve him better dan white folks, kaise dat is all dey\ndoes if dey stays whar dey belongs. Young folks and chillun being raised\nup real biggity like dey is now, dey can't serve nothing, kaise if you\ncan't serve your earthly father, how is you gwine to serve your Heavenly\nFather?\n\n\"De big plantation and house whar Mr. Jimmie Jeter's sons stay is whar I\nfirst see'd earthly light. Dat place still look fine, and it look fine\nden, too. When I was 8 years old I started out in de field, afo' dat I\ndid jes' what all little nigger boys did, nothing but eat and sleep and\nplay and have a big time wid de little white boys. Lots of my playmates,\nboth white and black, done gone on now. Some done gone to de bad place\nand some done gone to Heaven, jes' ain't no use talking, dat's sho nuff\nde truth.\n\n\"War was raging all 'round Charleston and Columbia when I come in dis\nworld so dey says, Yankees camped in half mile of Santuc. I is heard\ndat everybody was scared. Has even heard dat I cried when dem Yankees\ncome, but all I knows is jes' what I heard. Folks hears lots and dey\ntells it, and dat's jes' what I is doing now--jes' telling what dey told\nme when I got big. If folks didn't never tell nothing no worse, it\nwouldn't make no difference, but often dey takes devilish notions and\ntells dat what injures, if anybody believes dem.\n\n\"Aunt Phyllis Jeter 'low when dem Yankees got to Santuc, she was a\nweaving jes' as hard as she could for her white folks. She say dat she\nstarted to run, but dem Yankees come in de house and throw'd away her\nyarn and took her and tied her to a tree. When she hollered, dey whipped\nher. She say dat dey was drunk, but dey never burn't up nothing in de\nhouse. Dey went on singing, and she got me to playing and got up de yarn\nfrom de dirt in de yard and cleaned it. De Yankees never bothered us no\nmo', and dey never stayed in Santuc long.\n\n\"Once when I was a big boy I got drunk and pa whipped me so hard I never\ngot drunk no mo' till I was married, and den I jumped on my old lady for\nfun and she hit me wid a bed slat. Dat knocked me sober and I 'cided de\nbest thing for me to do was let liquor go to de devil. When I was young\nI allus walked to Union. Dat ain't but ten miles down de railroad. Den I\nused to walk all over Santuc and down to Herbert in Fish Dam. Now I is\ndrapped most all my walking. De chilluns travels fast in automobiles,\nbut I jes' as lieve walk to Union as to ride in dem things. Wrecks kills\nyou off so quick dat you does not have time to repent.\n\n\"Walking never has hurt nobody, and I buys leather and tacks it on my\nown shoes, and in dat way it don't cost me nothing much. Folks goes so\nfast in dem automobiles, and half de time dey ain't in no hurry kaise\ndey ain't gwine to nothing no way. I gits on my shoe in de winter and I\nwalks. When I wants to drap in for a chaw at some friend's house, I\ndoes. I sets dar till I gits rested and warm and I goes on. If dey eats,\nI does too, and when I gits to Union my chillun is done out and gone.\nJes' de same, I reaches home at night befo' dem.\n\n\"Dey has tales to tell about gitting out of gas, and when I axes whar\ndey been, dey jes' as apt to say Spartanburg as any whars. As long as\ndey has a quarter dey is allus gwine to ride and come home broke. If you\nfools wid automobiles, you is gwine to spend lots of time in jail. I\nain't never been in jail and I thinks it is a disgrace. My chillun says\ndat I is 'old timey' and don't know nothing 'bout living. Jes' de same,\nI likes slow moving, and takes mine out in walking and gits home at dark\nor soon atter.\n\n\"Dese fast ways don't bother me. Dey makes sassy chilluns. Sassy\nchilluns dat can't serve deir pa need not think dat dey can ride to de\nPromise Land in narry automobile dat dey is ever seed. Gwine round in\nfast circles and never gitting nowhars seems to satisfy dem, so I don't\nknow what is gwine to become of dem.\"\n\n\n  Source: Bob Young (75) Jonesville, S.C.\n  Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 11/10/37\n\n\n\n\n [Transcriber's Note:\n\n A number of punctuation errors have been corrected. Other typographical\n errors are as follows:\n\n Page 1: \"Hariett\" changed to \"Harriett\" (young mistress, Miss Harriett.)\n Page 3: \"Cival\" changed to \"Civil\" (pre-Civil and Civil War days,)\n Page 38: \"nonegenarian\" changed to \"nonagenarian\" (what a nonagenarian\n is?)\n Page 43: \"carpetbagbers\" changed to \"carpetbaggers\" (scalawags and\n carpetbaggers,)\n Page 45: \"SC\" changed to \"S.C.\" (RIDGEWAY, S.C.,)\n Page 49: \"On e\" changed to \"One\" (One pick a banjo,)\n Page 53: \"Dancers\" changed to \"Dances\" (Dances? There was); \"william\"\n changed to \"William\" (young master, William)\n Page 56: \"we\" added between \"us\" and \"we\" (told us we was free);\n \"cornshuckings\" changed to \"corn-shuckings\" (old time corn-shuckings)\n Page 59: \"gie\" changed to \"gi'e\" (\"He gi'e me sugar.); \"pantomime\" changed\n to \"pantomime,\" \"the\" added before \"way\" (with pantomine, of the way\n pidgin)\n Page 62: \"to-day\" changed to \"today\" (in Russia today.)\n Page 66: \"piscopal\" changed to \"'Piscopal\" (he was 'Piscopal)\n Page 67: \"thrity-two\" changed to \"thirty-two\" (thirty or thrity-two)\n Page 76: \"OF-EX\" changed to \"OF EX-SLAVES\"\n Page 84: \"quite\" changed to \"quiet\"\n Page 86: \"Come\" changed to \"Some\" (Some white people); \"one\" changed to\n \"One\" (\"One gone in)\n Page 89: \"or\" changed to \"of\" (the back of gallery.)\n Page 120: \"remembers\" changed to \"disremembers\" (I jes' disremembers,)\n Page 143: \"be be\" changed to \"be\" (be so many school)\n Page 149: \"folks\" changed to \"forks\" (Ninety-eight silver forks)\n Page 159: \"Reovah\" changed to (Rehovah Baptist Church.)\n Page 165: \"carpet bag\" changed to \"carpetbag\" (de carpetbag,)\n Page 183: \"do\" added after \"only\" (only do de)\n Page 187: \"cornshucking\" changed to \"corn-shucking\" (corn-shucking 'bout)\n Page 194: \"cordality\" changed to \"cordiality\" (with a cordiality);\n \"dilapedated\" changed to \"dilapidated\" (somewhat dilapidated shanty.)\n Page 195: \"revently\" changed to \"reverently\"; \"out side\" changed to\n \"outside\" (outside the same church); \"necesities\" changed to \"necessities\"\n (such household necessities)\n Page 196: \"asleep\" changed to \"slept\"\n Page 217: \"but\" changed to \"buy\" (wanted to buy something)\n Page 231: \"no\" added after \"or\" (true or no,)\n Page 255: \"i\" changed to \"I\" (as I was.)\n Page 269: \"Twentyfive\" changed to \"Twenty-five\" (Twenty-five cent of\n bacon)\n Page 270: \"the the\" changed to \"the\" (at the time his)]","title":"Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews with Former Slaves, Volume XIV, South Carolina Narratives, Part 4","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":74467}