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Written By: Grace McCune Research Worker Federal Writers' Project Athens, Georgia
Edited By: Leila Harris Editor Federal Writers' Project Augusta, Georgia
JOHN HILL Ex-Slave, Age 74 1525 W. Broad St. Athens, Georgia
John Hill, an old Negro about 74 years old, was seated comfortably on the front porch of his little cabin enjoying the sunshine. He lives alone and his pleasure was evident at having company, and better still an appreciative audience to whom he could relate the story of his early days.
"My pa wuz George Washin'ton Hill. His old Marster wuz Mr. Aubie Hill, an' dey all lived on de Hill Plantation, in de Buncombe district, nigh whar Monroe, Georgia is now. My ma wuz Lucy Annie Carter, an' she b'longed to de Carter fambly down in Oglethorpe County, 'til she wuz sold on de block, on de ole Tuck plantation, whar dey had a regular place to sell 'em. Dey put 'em up on a big old block, an' de highest bidder got de Nigger. Marse George Hill bought my ma, an' she come to stay on de Hill plantation. Dar's whar my pa married her, an' dar's whar I wuz borned.
"When I wuz just a little tike, I toted nails for 'em to build de jailhouse. Dey got 'bout two by four planks, nailed 'em crossways, an' den dey drived nails in, 'bout evvy inch or two apart, just lak a checkerboard. When dey got it done, dat jail would evermo' keep you on de inside. Dere wuz a place wid a rope to let down, when de jailbirds would need somethin', or when somebody wanted to send somethin' up to 'em. No Ma'am, dat warn't de rope dey used to hang folkses wid.
"My pa stayed on wid old Marster 'bout ten years atter de War, den us moved to de farm wid de Walkers at Monroe, Georgia. Dat wuz Governor Walker's pa. Dere wuz a red clay bank on de side of de crick whar us chilluns had our swimmmin' hole, an' us didn't know when us wuz a frolickin' an' rollin' young Marse Clifford down dat bank, dat someday he would be gov'ner of Georgia. He evermo' wuz a sight, kivered wid all dat red mud, an' Mist'ess, she would fuss an' say she wuz goin' to whup evvyone of us, but us just stayed out of de way an' she never cotched us. Den she would forgit 'til de nex' time.
"When I wuz 'bout eight years old, dey 'lowed it wuz high time I wuz a larnin' somethin', an' I wuz sont to de little log schoolhouse down in de woods. De onliest book I had wuz just a old blue back speller. Us took corn an' 'tatoes 'long an' cooked 'em for dinner, for den us had to stay all day at school. Us biled de corn an' roasted 'tatoes in ashes, an' dey tasted mighty good.
"Us had corn pone to eat all de time, an' on de fust Sunday in de month us had cake bread, 'cause it wuz church day. Cake bread wuz made out of shorts, but dem biscuits wuz mighty good if dey wuz dark, 'stead of bein' white.
"Us had big gyardens, an' raised all sorts of vegetables: corn, peas, beans, 'tatoes, colla'ds, an' turnip greens. Us had plenty of milk an' butter all de time. An' Marster made us raise lots of cows, hogs, sheep, an' chickens, an' tukkeys.
"Dey warn't no ready made clo'es or no vittuls in cans at de sto'keepers' places, an' us didn't have no money to spend, if dey had a been dar. Us didn't have nothin' what us didn't raise an' make up. Cotton had to be picked offen de seed, an' washed an' cyarded, den ma spun de thread an' wove de cloth an' sometimes she dyed it wid ink balls, 'fore it wuz ready to make clo'es out of. De ink Marster used to write wid wuz made out of ink balls.
"I wuz still little when my ma died. De white folks' preacher preached her fun'ral from de tex' of Isaiah fifth chapter: fust verse, an' dey sung de old song, "Goin' Home to Die no Mo'." Den dey buried her on de place, an' built a rail fence 'roun' de grave, to keep de stock from trompin' on it. Sometimes several owners got together an' had one place to bury all de slaves, an' den dey built a rail fence all 'roun' de whole place.
"Hit wuz just lak bein' in jail, de way us had to stay on de place, 'cause if us went off an' didn't have no ticket de paddyrollers would always git us, an' dey evermore did beat up some of de Niggers.
"I 'members de Klu Klux Klan good. Dey kept Niggers skeered plum to death, an' when dey done sumpin' brash dey sho' got beat up if de Kluxers cotched 'em.
"One time de Kluxers come by our place on de way to beat a old Nigger man. I begged 'em to lemme go wid 'em, an' atter a while dey said I could go. Dere wuz horns on de mask dey kivvered up my head wid an' I wuz mighty skeered but I didn't say nothin'. Atter us got dar, dey tied de old man up by his hands to de rafters in his house. He wuz beggin' 'em to let him off an' yellin' 'O Lordy, have mussy!' Dere wuz a little gal dar an' I wanted to skeer her, so I started atter her, an' de old man tole her to hit me on de head. She picked up a shovel an' th'owed it an' cut my leg so wide open de blood just spilt down on de floor. I got so bad off dey had to take me back to old Marster, an' he fix me up. Hit wuz six months 'fore I could use dat leg good, an', I nebber did wanter go wid dem Kluxers no more.
"Us went to de white folkses church, but onct a year on de fust Sunday in Augus' de white folkses let de Niggers have dat day for camp meetin'. Dey fixed good dinners for us, an' let us go off in de woods an' stay all day. Dem chicken pies an' dem good old 'tato custards, 'bout one an' a half inches thick, made wid sea sugar, dey make your mouf water just to talk 'bout 'em. What wuz sea sugar? Why it wuz dat crawly, kind of grayish, lookin' sugar us used den. I wuz grown 'fore I ever seed no sho' 'nough white sugar.
"My pa hired me out to Mr. Ray Kempton to tote cotton to de gin on his plantation, when I wuz 'bout 16 years old. I wuz wukkin' dar when de fust railroad wuz laid, an' dey named de place Kempton station fer Marse Ray Kempton. I wuz paid five dollars a month an' board for my wuk, an' I stayed dar 'til I married.
"I wuz 'bout eighteen when I rode on de train for de fust time. Us rode from Social Circle to Washin'ton, Wilkes, to see my ma's folkses. Ma tuk a heap of ginger cakes an' fried chicken along for us to eat on de train, an' de swingin' an' swayin' of dat train made me so sick I didn't want to ride no more for a long time.
"Soon atter I wuz twenty years old, I married a gal from Washin'ton, Wilkes, an' us moved to Athens, an' I been livin' right here ever since. Us got here de last day de old whiskey house wuz open. Dey closed it down dat night. I wukked a long time wid de Allgood boys in de horse tradin' business an' den I wukked for Mr. an' Mrs. Will Peeples 'bout ten years. Dey runned a boardin' house, an' while I wuz dar, Dr. Walker come to board, an' I wuz mighty glad to wait on him, 'cause he wuz from Monroe an' had done been livin' on de old Walker place dat I stayed at when us wuz down dar.
"My uncle, Ambus Carter, wuz a preacher on Marse Jim Smith's place. He b'longed to Marse Jim durin' de War, an' he never did leave him. Atter freedom come, most of Marse Jim's Niggers lef' him, an' den he had what dey called chaingang slaves. He paid 'em out of jail for 'em to wuk for him. An' he let 'em have money all de time so dey didn't never git out of debt wid him. Dey had to stay dar an' wuk all de time, an' if dey didn't wuk he had 'em beat. He evermore did beat 'em if dey got lazy, but if dey wukked good, he wuz good to 'em. Sometimes dey tried to run away. Dey had dogs to trail 'em wid so dey always cotched 'em, an' den da whippin' boss beat 'em mos' to death. It wuz awful to hear 'em hollerin' an' beggin' for mussy. If dey hollered, 'Lord have mussy!' Marse Jim didn't hear 'em, but if dey cried, 'Marse Jim have mussy!' den he made 'em stop de beatin'. He say, 'De Lord rule Heb'en, but Jim Smith ruled de earth.'
"One time he cotched some Niggers down at de Seaboard Station, what had runned away from his place. He got de police, an' brung 'em back 'cause he 'lowed dey still owed him money. I wuz mighty sorry for 'em, for I knowed what dey wuz goin' to git when he done got 'em back on his place. Dat whippin' boss beat 'em 'til dey couldn't stan' up.
"But he wuz good to my uncle, an' treated him just lak one of de fambly. He helped him wid all his sermons, an' told him to always tell 'em to be observerant an' obejent to de boss man. He provided good fer his help an' dey always had plenty to eat. He used to try to git me to come an' stay wid him, but I didn't want to stay on dat place.
"Marse Jim used to have big 'possum hunts for his Niggers, an' he would sen' me word, an' I most always went, 'cause dem wuz good times den, when dey cooked de coons an' 'possums, an' eat an' drunk mos' of de night. Coon meat is most as good as lamb if you is careful to take out de musk sacs when you dress 'em to cook."
Smithsonia, the Jim Smith plantation, covered thousands of acres, but the words of the feeble old Negro showed that he could not imagine it possible for any farmer to own more than one hundred acres.
"Marse Jim had a hund'ud acre farm, an' he had to keep plenty of Niggers to look atter dat place, but I wuz 'fraid to go dar to stay, for it wuz sho' just lak de jailhouse.
"Dey ain't but four of our nine chilluns livin' now an' dey's all up Nawf. Dey done sont atter me when deir ma died, an' tried to git me to stay wid 'em, but its too cold up dar for dis old Nigger, so I just stays on here by myself. It don't take much for me to live on. In crop times I wuks in de fiel' a choppin' cotton, an' I picks cotton too. I'll just wait on here an' de waitin' won't be much longer, 'cause I'se a living right, an', 'Praise de Lawd,' I'se a gwine to Heb'en w'en I die."
Mary A. Crawford Re-search Worker
Laura Hood Ex-Slave
Laura was born in Griffin December 23, 1850 on Mr. Henry Bank's place. Her mother, Sylvia Banks (called "Cely Ann" by the darkies) married her father, Joe Brawner, a carpenter, who was owned by Mr. Henry Brawner.
Joe and Sylvia were married in Mr. Henry Bank's parlor by this white preacher.
Mr. Banks, Laura's master, owned a tannery in Griffin and had "around fifty slaves" according to Laura's memory. Most of the slaves worked at the tannery, the others at Mr. Bank's home. Laura's mother was the cook in the Bank's home for over forty years. Joe, Laura's father, was a carpenter and the four little darkies of the family helped about the house and yard doing such work as feeding the chickens, sweeping the yards and waiting on the Mistress. Laura, herself was a "house girl", that is, she made the beds, swept the floors and sewed and helped the Mistress do the mending for the family.
When asked if the Master and Mistress were good to the slaves, Laura replied that they certainly were, adding, "Marse Henry was as good a man as ever put a pair of pants on his legs." As to the punishments used by the Banks, Laura was almost indignant at such a question, saying that Marse Henry never whipped or punished his darkies in any way, that he did not believe in it. The only whipping that Laura herself ever had was one lick across the shoulders with a small switch used by her Mistress to keep her mother, Celie Ann, from whipping her.
Laura relates that the darkies worked all the time except Sunday. On Sunday they could do as they pleased so long as they went to church. All the Bank's darkies attended service in the "cellar" (basement) of the First Baptist Church and had a colored preacher.
When any of the darkies were sick if 'ole Marster' and 'ole Miss' could not "set them straight" they called in "ole Marse's" white doctor.
Mr. Banks, himself, was too old "to fight the Yankees" but young 'Marse Henry' fought but did not "get a scratch" and when he came home all of them were sure glad to see him.
"After freedom, when 'ole Mars' was gone, 'young Marster' was as good as gold to all the darkies." Laura can remember when he gave her $5.00 to $20.00 at a time."
She also recalls that when the slaves were freed that her ole Marse called all of the darkies around him out in the yard and told them that they were as free as he was and could leave if they wanted to, but if they would stay 'till Christmas and help him that he would pay them wages. All of them stayed except one Negro named "Big John" who left with a bunch of Yankees that came along soon after.
As to what happened at the Bank's home when the Yankees came through, Laura does not remember, but she does recall that the Banks family "refugeed to Florida to get out of the path of the Yankees."
"No, mam," said Laura in reply to the question "Did your master have his slaves taught to read and write?" "We never had any school of any kind on the Bank's place. 'Marse Henry did not believe we needed that."
Laura has lived in her present home since 1867 and recalls when Griffin was "mostly a big woods full of paths here and there." She recalls the "auction block" which was on or near the site of the present Court House.
The old woman is very feeble, in fact, unable to walk but is cared for by a niece.
Laura Pood 432 E. Solomon Street Griffin, Georgia September 23, 1936
PLANTATION LIFE as viewed by Ex-Slave
CARRIE HUDSON 258 Lyndon Avenue Athens, Georgia.
Written by: Sadie B. Hornsby Athens —
Edited by: Sarah H. Hall Athens —
Leila Harris Augusta —
and
John N. Booth District Supervisor Federal Writers' Project Residencies 6 & 7.
CARRIE HUDSON Ex-Slave—Age 75
Carrie was asked to relate her memories of childhood days on the old plantation. "I'se done most forgot 'bout dem days," she replied, "but if you ax me some questions hit mought come back to me. Hit's such a fur way back dat I don't never think 'bout dem times no more." After a few reminders, the old Negress began eagerly volunteering her recollections.
"Slave traders fotched my Pa, he was Phil Rucker, f'um Richmond, Virginny, and sold him to Marse Joe Squire Rucker. Ma, she was Frances Rucker, was borned on Marse Joe's place nigh Ruckersville, up in Elbert County, and all 10 of us chilluns was born on dat plantation too. Hester Ann, Loke Ann, Elizabeth, Mary, Minnie Bright, Dawson, Ant'ony, Squire and Philip was my sisters and brothers. Grandma Bessie done de cookin' at de big house. Grandpa Ant'ony had done died long 'fore I got big enough to know nothin' 'bout him.
"Miss, chilluns what was knee high to a duck had to wuk. 'Til dey was big and strong enough for field wuk, little Niggers done all sorts of piddlin' jobs. Dey toted water to de big house and to de hands in de fields, fotched in chips and wood, and watched de cows. Me? I nussed most of de time. If dere was any money give out for slaves' wuk de grown folkses got it all, for I never seed none and I never heared 'bout no Niggers gittin' none in slavery times.
"Us lived in log cabins scattered 'round de plantation. De biggest of 'em had two rooms and evvy cabin had a chimbly made out of sticks and red mud. Most of de chillun slept on pallets on de floor, but I slept wid my Pa and Ma 'cause I was so pettish. Most of de beds was made out of poles, dis a-way: Dey bored two holes in de wall, wide apart as dey wanted de bed, and in dese holes dey stuck one end of de poles what was de side pieces. Dey sharpened de ends of two more poles and driv' 'em in de floor for de foot pieces and fastened de side pieces to 'em. Planks was put acrost dis frame to hold a coarse cloth tick filled wid wheat straw. Ma had a ruffle, what was called a foot bouncer, 'round de foot of her bed. Beds up at de big house was a sight to see. Dey had high posties and curtains over de top and 'round de bottom of deir beds. Dem beds at de big house was so high dey had steps to walk up so dey could git in 'em. Oh, dey was pretty, all kivvered over wid bob' net to keep flies and skeeters off de white folkses whilst dey slept!
"Warn't nothin' short 'bout de eats. Our white folkses b'lieved in good eatin's. Dey give us bread and meat wid all de cabbage, colla'd and turnip greens us wanted, and us had 'matoes, 'tatoes, chickens and ducks. Yessum, and dere allus was plenty 'possums and rabbits cooked 'bout lak dey is now, only dere warn't no stoves in dem days. Pots for biling swung on racks dey called cranes, over de coals in big open fireplaces. Baking was done in ovens and skillets. Dere was allus lots of fishes in season, but I didn't do none of de fishin', 'cause I was too skeered of de water when I was a chap.
"All de cloth for our clothes was wove in de loom room up at de big house. Little gal's dresses was made just lak deir Ma's, wid full skirts gathered on to plain, close fittin' waisties. Little boys just wore shirts. Didn't no chillun wear but one piece of clothes in summer. Winter time us wore de same only dey give us a warm underskirt, and rough red brogan shoes. Didn't no Niggers wear shoes in warm weather durin' slavery times.
"Marse Joe Squire Rucker was de fust Marster of our plantation. Atter him and Miss Peggy done died, his son, Marse Elbert Rucker tuk up where his Pa left off. I can't call to mind nothin' 'bout Marse Joe and Miss Peggy 'cept what old folkses told me long atter dey done died, but I does 'member Marse Elbert and Miss Sallie and dey was just as good to us as dey could be. De onliest ones of dier chilluns I ricollects now is Miss Bessie, Miss Cora and Marsters Joe, Guy, Marion and Early. Dey all lived in a big fine house sot back f'um de road a piece.
"Marse Elbert's overseer was a Mr. Alderman. He got de slaves up early in de mornin' and it was black night 'fore he fotched 'em in. Marse Elbert didn't 'low nobody to lay hands on his Niggers but his own self. If any whuppin' had to be done, he done it.
"My brother, Squire, was de carriage driver and he was all time a-drivin' our white folkses to Ruckersville, and sometimes he driv' 'em far as Anderson, South Callina.
"To tell de truth, Missy, I don't know how many acres was in dat big old plantation. Dere just ain't no tellin'. Niggers was scattered over dat great big place lak flies. When dey come in f'um de fields at night, dem slaves was glad to just go to sleep and rest.
"Dey didn't do no field wuk atter dinner on Saddays. De 'omans washed, ironed and cleaned up deir cabins, while de mens piddled 'roun' and got de tools and harness and things lak dat ready for de next week's wuk.
"I heared 'em say dere was a jail at Ruckersville, but so far as I knows dere warn't no slaves ever put in jail. Niggers didn't have no chance to git in devilment, 'cause de overseers and patterollers kep' close atter 'em all de time, and slaves what stepped aside allus got a whuppin'. Dere warn't no time for to larn readin' and writin' on Marse Elbert's plantation. Dem slaves knowed what a Bible was but dey sho' couldn't read de fust line. Us went to white folkses church on Sundays, and while I never tuk in none of dem songs us sung, I sho'ly do ricollect moughty well how de Reverend Duncan would come down on dat preachin'.
"Lordy, Miss! Dere you is a-axing me 'bout folkses dyin', and I'se nigh dead myself! Brother 'lisha done prophesied you was a-comin' here for to write a jedgment, and hit makes me feel right creepy. Anyhow I seed a heaps of folkses died out and git put in dem home-made coffins what was black as sin. I sho' is glad dey done changed de color of coffins. I 'members how us used to holler and cry when dey come to de part of de fun'ral whar dey sung: 'Hark F'um De Tomb, A Doleful Sound.'
"Dere was a heap of baptizin's dem days and I went to most all of 'em, but I sho' warn't baptized 'til long atter I got grown, 'cause I was so skeered of de water. I kin see dem folkses now, a-marchin' down to de crick, back of de church, and all de can-i-dates dressed in de whites' white clothes, what was de style den. Evvybody jined in de singin', and de words was lak dis:
'Marchin' for de water For to be baptized. De Lord done lit de candle On de other side For to see his chilluns When dey gits baptized.'
"Niggers on Marse Elbert's place never knowed nothin' 'bout no North; if dey did dey wouldn't tell it to chilluns little as I was den. Dere was some sort of uprisin' a good piece f'um Ruckersville, but I can't tell you 'bout it 'cause I just heared de old folkses do a little talkin', what warn't enough to larn de whole tale. Chillun back dar didn't jine in de old folkses business lak dey does now.
"Sadday nights de young folkses picked de banjo, danced and cut de buck 'til long atter midnight, but Christmas times was when chilluns had deir bestes' good times. Marse Elbert 'ranged to have hog killin' close enough to Christmas so dere would be plenty of fresh meat, and dere was heaps of good chickens, tukkeys, cake, candies, and just evvything good. En durin' de Christmas, slaves visited 'roun' f'um house to house, but New Year's Day was wuk time again, and dere was allus plenty to do on dat plantation. Most all de Niggers loved to go to dem cornshuckin's, 'cause atter de corn was all shucked dey give 'em big suppers and let 'em dance. De cotton pickin's was on nights when de moon was extra bright 'cause dey couldn't do much lightin' up a big cotton field wid torches lak dey did de places where dey had de cornshuckin's. Atter cornshuckin's, dey mought be dancin' by de light of torches, but us danced in de moonlight when de cotton was picked and de prize done been give out to de slave what picked de most. Logrollin's was de most fun of all. De men and 'omans would roll dem logs and sing and dey give 'em plenty of good eats, and whiskey by de kegs, at logrollin's. De Marsters, dey planned de cornshuckin's, and cotton pickin's, and logrollin's and pervided de eats and liquor, but de quiltin' parties b'longed to de slaves. Dey 'ranged 'em deir own selfs and done deir own 'vitin' and fixed up deir own eats, but most of de Marsters would let 'em have a little somepin' extra lak brown sugar or 'lasses and some liquor. De quiltin's was in de cabins, and dey allus had 'em in winter when dare warn't no field wuk. Dey would quilt a while and stop to eat apple pies, peach pies, and other good things and drink a little liquor.
"Us had to tote water and nuss chillun 'stid of playin' no games. Us didn't know nothin' 'bout ghosties, hants, and sich lak. Our white folkses would whup a Nigger for skeerin' us chillun quick as anything. Dey didn't 'low none of dat. De onliest ghost I'se ever seed was just t'other day. I seed somebody pass my door. I hollered out: 'Who dat?' Dey didn't say nothin'. Brother 'Lisha here said it was a sperrit passin' by. He must be right, 'cause whoever it was, dey didn't say nothin' 'tall.
"Marse Elbert and Miss Sallie was sho' moughty good when deir Niggers tuk sick. Castor oil and turpentine was what dey give 'em most of de time. Horehound tea was for colds, and elderberry tea was to help babies teethe easier. Yessum, us wore beads, but dey was just to look pretty.
"All I knows 'bout how come us was sot free is dat folkses said Mr. Jefferson Davis and Mr. Abraham Lincoln got to fightin' 'bout us, and Mr. Lincoln's side got de best of Mr. Davis' side in de quarrel. De day dey told us dat us was free dere was a white man named Mr. Bruce, what axed: 'What you say?' Dey told him 'gain dat all de Niggers was free. He bent hisself over, and never did straighten his body no more. When he died, he was still all bent over. Mr. Bruce done dis to sho' de world how he hated to give his Niggers up atter dey done been sot free.
"When dem Yankees come thoo' dey stole evvything dey could take off wid 'em. Dey tuk Sue, my brother's nice hoss, and left him a old poor bag-of-bones hoss. Us stayed on wid our white folkses a long time atter de War.
"Edwin Jones was my fust husband and I wore a pretty dove colored dress at our weddin'. Jenny Ann was our onliest child. All but one of our eight grandchillun is all livin' now, and I'se got 24 great grandchillun. Atter Edwin died, I married dis here Charlie Hudson what I'se livin' wid now. Us didn't have no big weddin' and tain't long since us got married. Me and Charlie ain't got no chillun.
"I jined de church 'cause I got 'ligion and I knows de good Lord done forgive my sins. Evvybody ought to git 'ligion and hold it and jine de church.
"De way us is a havin' to live now is pretty bad 'cause us is both too old to wuk. Don't give me dem slavery days no more 'cause I would have to wuk anyhow if I was a slave again! Us couldn't set 'roun' and smoke our pipes and do as us please. I'd ruther have it lak it is now.
"I can't 'member no more to tell you, but I sho' has 'joyed dis talk. Yessum, dem days was a fur piece back."
PLANTATION LIFE as viewed by Ex-Slave
[TR: date stamp: MAY 28 1938]
CHARLIE HUDSON 258 Lyndon Avenue Athens, Georgia
Written by: Sadie B. Hornsby Athens —
Edited by: Sarah H. Hall Athens —
Leila Harris Augusta — and John N. Booth District Supervisor Federal Writers' Project Res. 6 & 7. Augusta, Ga.
CHARLIE HUDSON Ex-Slave—Age 80.
Charlie listened with eager interest to the story related by Carrie, his wife, and frequent smiles played over his wrinkled black face as her reminiscences awakened memories of younger days. His delight was evident when the interviewer suggested that he tell his own impressions of slavery and the period following the War between the States.
"Miss," he said, "I been takin' in what de old 'oman done told you. Dat was de beginnin' way back yonder and de end is nigh. Soon dere won't be nobody left livin' what was a sho' 'nough slave. It's somepin' to think about, ain't it?
"Anyhow, I was born March 27, 1858 in Elbert County. Ma lived on de Bell plantation and Marse Matt Hudson owned my Pa and kept him on de Hudson place. Dere was seben of us chillun. Will, Bynam, John and me was de boys, and de gals was Amanda, Liza Ann, and Gussie. 'Til us was big enough to wuk, us played 'round de house 'bout lak chillun does dese days.
"Slave quarters was laid out lak streets. Us lived in log cabins. Beds? Dey was jus' makeshift beds, what was made out of pine poles. De side of de house was de head of de beds. De side rails was sharpened at both ends and driv' in holes in de walls and foot posties. Den dey put boards 'cross de side rails for de mattresses to lay on. De coarse cloth bed ticks was filled wid 'Georgy feathers.' Don't you know what Georgy feathers was? Wheat straw was Georgy feathers. Our kivver was sheets and plenty of good warm quilts. Now dat was at our own quarters on Marse David Bell's plantation.
"Didn't evvybody have as good places to sleep as us. I 'members a white fambly named Sims what lived in Flatwoods. Dey was de porest white folks I ever seed. Dey had a big drove of chillun and deir Pa never wukked a lick in his life—He jus' lived on other folkses' labors. Deir little log cabin had a partition in it, and 'hind dat partition dere warn't a stitch of nothin'. Dey didn't have no floor but de ground, and back 'hind dat partition was dug out a little deeper dan in de rest of de house. Dey filled dat place wid leaves and dat's whar all de chilluns slept. Evvy day Miss Sallie made 'em take out de leaves what dey had slep' on de night before and fill de dugout wid fresh leaves. On de other side of de partition, Miss Sallie and her old man slept 'long wid deir hog, and hoss, and cow, and dat was whar dey cooked and et too. I ain't never gwine to forgit dem white folks.
"My grandma Patsy, Pappy's Ma, knocked 'round lookin' atter de sheep and hogs, close to de house, 'cause she was too old for field wuk. Ma's Mammy was my grandma Rose. Her job was drivin' de oxcart to haul in wood from de new grounds and to take wheat and corn to mill and fetch back good old home-made flour and meal. I never did hear nothin' 'bout my grandpas. Ma done de cookin' for de white folks.
"I don't know if I was no pet, but I did stay up at de big house most of de time, and one thing I loved to do up dar was to follow Miss Betsy 'round totin' her sewin' basket. When wuk got tight and hot in crop time, I helped de other chillun tote water to de hands. De bucket would slamp 'gainst my laigs all along de way, and most of de water would be done splashed out 'fore I got to de field.
"Marse David and his fambly most allus sont deir notes and messages by me and another yearlin' boy what was 'lowed to lay 'round de big house yard so us would be handy to wait on our white folks. Dey give you de note what dey done writ, and dey say: 'Boy, if you lose dis note, you'll git a whuppin'! All de time you was carryin' dem notes you had your whuppin' in your hand and didn't know it, lessen you lost de note. I never heared of no trouble to 'mount to nothin' twixt white folks and Niggers in our settlement.
"Us et good, not much diff'unt f'um what us does now. Most times it was meat and bread wid turnip greens, lye hominy, milk, and butter. All our cookin' was done on open fireplaces. Oh! I was fond of 'possums, sprinkled wid butter and pepper, and baked down 'til de gravy was good and brown. You was lucky if you got to eat 'possum and gnaw de bones atter my Ma done cooked it.
"Dey cotch rabbits wid dogs. Now and den, a crowd of Niggers would jump a rabbit when no dogs was 'round. Dey would tho' rocks at him and run him in a hollow log. Den dey would twiss him out wid hickory wisps (withes). Sometimes dere warn't no fur left on de rabbit time dey got him twisted out, but dat was all right. Dey jus' slapped him over daid and tuk him on to de cabin to be cooked. Rabbits was most gen'ally fried.
"Grown boys didn't want us chillun goin' 'long 'possum huntin' wid 'em, so all right, dey tuk us way off crost de fields 'til dey found a good thick clump of bushes, and den dey would holler out dat dere was some moughty fine snipes 'round dar. Dey made us hold de poke (bag) open so de snipes could run in. Den dey blowed out deir light'ood knot torches, and left us chillun holdin' de poke whilst dey went on huntin' 'possums.
"Atter dinner Saddays all of us tuk our hooks, poles, and lines down to Dry Fork Crick, when it was de right time of de year to fish. Sometimes dey stewed fish for old folkses to eat, but young folkses loved 'em fried best.
"Winter time dey give chillun new cotton and wool mixed shirts what come down most to de ankles. By de time hot weather come de shirt was done wore thin and swunk up and 'sides dat, us had growed enough for 'em to be short on us, so us jus' wore dem same shirts right on thoo' de summer. On our place you went bar foots 'til you was a great big yearlin' 'fore you got no shoes. What you wore on yo' haid was a cap made out of scraps of cloth dey wove in de looms right dar on our plantation to make pants for de grown folks.
"Mr. David Bell, our Marster, was born clubfooted. His hands and foots was drawed up evvy which a way long as he lived. He was jus' lak a old tom cat, he was such a cusser. All he done was jus' set dar and cuss, and a heap of times you couldn't see nothin' for him to cuss 'bout. He tuk his crook-handled walkin' stick and cotch you and drug you up to him and den jus' helt you tight and cussed you to yo' face, but he didn't never whup nobody. Our Mist'ess, Miss Betsey, was allus moughty kind at times lak dat, and she used to give us chillun a heap of ginger cakes. Deir seben chilluns was Dr. Bynam, Marse David and little Misses Ad'line, Elizabeth, Mary and Mildred. Dey lived in a big old two-story house, but I done forgot how it looked.
"Dat overseer, he was a clever man, but I can't ricollect his name. He never paid no heed to what sort of clothes slaves wore, but he used to raise merry cain if dey didn't have good shoes to ditch in. Marse David was de cussin' boss, but de overseer called hisself de whuppin' boss. He had whuppin's all time saved up special for de 'omans. He made 'em take off deir waistes and den he whupped 'em on deir bar backs 'til he was satisfied. He done all de whuppin' atter supper by candle light. I don't 'member dat he ever whupped a man. He jus' whupped 'omans.
"Evvybody was up early so dat by sunrise dey was out in de fields, jus' a whoopin' and hollerin'. At sundown dey stopped and come back to de cabins. In wheat harvestin' time dey wukked so hard dey jus' fell out f'um gittin' overhet. Other times dey jus' wukked 'long steady lak.
"Marse David never had no sho' 'nough car'iage so he never needed no car'iage driver. He had what dey called a ground sleigh. In de spring Marse David sont a man to de woods to pick out a lakly lookin' young white oak saplin' and bent it down a certain way. Hit stayed bent dat way 'til it growed big enough, den dey sawed it lengthways and put a mortise hole in each front piece to put de round thoo' to hold de singletrees. Holes was bored at de back to fasten de plank seat to. Dey put a quilt on de seat for a cushion and hitched a pair of oxen to de sleigh. Come winter, come summer, snow or rain, dey went right on in de old sleigh jus' de same!
"Now, Miss, dis sho' is right! Many times as I is done been over dat plantation f'um one side to de other I couldn't tell you to save my life how many acres was in it. I would be 'fraid to say, how many slaves Marse David owned, but I'm here to tell you dere was a bunch of 'em 'round dar.
"Dey didn't have no jail house or nothin' lak dat 'round dat plantation, 'cause if slaves didn't please Marster dey was jus' made to come up to de yard at de big house and take deir beatin's. I seed dem traders come thoo' f'um Virginny wid two wagon loads of slaves at one time, gwine down on Broad River to a place called Lisbon whar dey already had orders for 'em. I ain't never seed no slaves bein' sold or auctioned off on de block.
"Wunst a white man named Bill Rowsey, come and begged Marse David to let him teach his Niggers. Marse David had de grown mens go sweep up de cottonseed in de ginhouse on Sunday mornin', and for three Sundays us went to school. When us went on de fourth Sunday night riders had done made a shape lak a coffin in de sand out in front, and painted a sign on de ginhouse what read: 'No Niggers 'lowed to be taught in dis ginhouse.' Dat made Marse David so mad he jus' cussed and cussed. He 'lowed dat nobody warn't gwine tell him what to do. But us was too skeered to go back to de ginhouse to school. Next week Marse David had 'em build a brush arbor down by de crick, but when us went down dar on Sunday for school, us found de night riders had done 'stroyed de brush arbor, and dat was de end of my gwine to school.
"Dere warn't no church for slaves whar us was. Marse David give us a pass so us wouldn't be 'sturbed and let us go 'round from one plantation to another on Sundays for prayer meetin's in de cabins and under trees if de weather was warm and nice. Sometimes when dere was a jubilee comin' off, slaves was 'lowed to go to deir Marsters' church. Me? I used to ride 'hind Miss Betsey on her hoss what she called Puss, and away us went jiggin' down de road to jubilees at Millstone and Elam churches. I was a rich feelin' little Nigger den.
"De chillun had to take a back seat whilst de old folks done all de singin', so I never larned none of dem songs good 'nough to 'member what de words was, or de tunes neither. Now and den us went to a fun'ral, not often, but if dere was a baptizin' inside of 10 miles 'round f'um whar us lived, us didn't miss it. Us knowed how to walk, and went to git de pleasure.
"Atter slaves got in f'um de fields at night, de 'omans cooked supper whilst de mens chopped wood. Lessen de crops was in de grass moughty bad or somepin' else awful urgent, dere warn't no wuk done atter dinner on Saddays. De old folks ironed, cleant house, and de lak, and de young folks went out Sadday nights and danced to de music what dey made beatin' on tin pans. Sundays, youngsters went to de woods and hunted hickernuts and muscadines. De old folks stayed home and looked one anothers haids over for nits and lice. Whenever dey found anything, dey mashed it twixt dey finger and thumb and went ahead searchin'. Den de 'omans wropt each others hair de way it was to stay fixed 'til de next Sunday.
"Chris'mas us went f'um house to house lookin' for locust and persimmon beer. Chillun went to all de houses huntin' gingerbread. Ma used to roll it thin, cut it out wid a thimble, and give a dozen of dem little balls to each chile. Persimmon beer and gingerbread! What big times us did have at Chris'mas. New Year's Day, dey raked up de hoss and cow lots if de weather was good. Marster jus' made us wuk enough on New Year's Day to call it wukkin', so he could say he made us start de New Year right.
"Marse David had cornshuckin's what lasted two or three weeks at a time. Dey had a gen'ral to keep dem brash boys straight. De number of gen'rals 'pended on how much corn us had and how many slaves was shuckin' corn. Atter it was all shucked, dere was a big celebration in store for de slaves. Dey cooked up washpots full of lamb, kid, pork, and beef, and had collard greens dat was wu'th lookin' at. Dey had water buckets full of whiskey. When dem Niggers danced atter all dat eatin' and drinkin', it warn't rightly dancin'; it was wrastlin'.
"Dem moonlight cotton pickin's was big old times. Dey give prizes to de ones pickin' de most cotton. De prizes was apt to be a quart of whiskey for de man what picked de most and a dress for de 'oman what was ahead. Dem Niggers wouldn't take no time to empty cotton in baskets—jus' dumped it out quick on baggin' in de field.
"Day went f'um one plantation to another to quiltin's. Atter de 'omans got thoo' quiltin' and et a big dinner, den dey axed de mens to come in and dance wid 'em.
"Whenever any of our white folks' gals got married dere was two or three weeks of celebratin'. What a time us did have if it was one of our own little misses gittin' married! When de day 'rived, it was somepin' else. De white folks was dressed up to beat de band and all de slaves was up on deir toes to do evvything jus' right and to see all dey could. Atter de preacher done finished his words to de young couple, den dey had de sho' 'nough weddin' feast. Dere was all sorts of meat to choose f'um at weddin' dinners—turkeys, geese, chickens, peafowls, and guineas, not to mention good old ham and other meats.
"Pitchin' hoss shoes and playin' marbles was heaps and lots of fun when I was growin' up. Atter while, de old folks 'cided dem games was gamblin' and wouldn't let us play no more. I don't know nothin' t'all 'bout no ghosties. Us had 'nough to be skeered of widout takin' up no time wid dat sort of thing.
"When Marse David changed me f'um calf shepherd to cowboy, he sont three or four of us boys to drive de cows to a good place to graze 'cause de male beast was so mean and bad 'bout gittin' atter chillun, he thought if he sont enough of us dere wouldn't be no trouble. Dem days, dere warn't no fence law, and calves was jus' turned loose in de pastur to graze. Da fust time I went by myself to drive de cows off to graze and come back wid 'em, Aunt Vinnie 'ported a bunch of de cows was missin', 'bout 20 of em, when she done de milkin' dat night, and I had to go back huntin' dem cows. De moon come out, bright and clear, but I couldn't see dem cows nowhar—didn't even hear de bell cow. Atter while I was standin' in de mayberry field a-lookin' crost Dry Fork Crick and dere was dem cows. De bell was pulled so clost on de bell cow's neck whar she was caught in de bushes, dat it couldn't ring. I looked at dem cows—den I looked at de crick whar I could see snakes as thick as de fingers on your hand, but I knowed I had to git dem cows back home, so I jus' lit out and loped 'cross dat crick so fast dem snakes never had no chanct to bite me. Dat was de wust racket I ever got in.
"Marse David and Miss Betsey tuk moughty good keer of deir Niggers, 'specially when dey was sick. Dr. Bynam Bell, deir oldest son, was a doctor but Miss Betsey was a powerful good hand at doctoring herself. She looked atter all da slave 'omans. For medicines dey give us asafiddy (asafetida), calomel, and castor oil more dan anything else for our diff'unt ailments.
"Marse David's nephew, Mr. Henry Bell, visited at de big house durin' de war, and he was cut down jus' a few days atter he left us and went back to de battlefield.
"Us had been hearin' fust one thing and another 'bout freedom might come, when one mornin' Mr. Will Bell, a patteroller, come ridin' on his hoss at top speed thoo' de rye field whar us was at wuk. Us made sho' he was atter some pore slave, 'til he yelled out: 'What you Niggers wukkin' for? Don't you know you is free as jay birds?' 'Bout dat time de trumpet blowed for dinner and us fell in line a-marchin' up to de big house. Marse David said: 'You all might jus' as well be free as anybody else.' Den he promised to give us somepin' to eat and wear if us would stay on wid him, and dere us did stay for 'bout three years atter de war. I was burnt up den, 'cause I didn't have de privilege of ridin' 'hind Miss Betsey on old Puss no more when she went to meetin'.
"Whar us lived, Ku Kluxers was called 'night thiefs.' Dey stole money and weepons (weapons) f'um Niggers atter de war. Dey tuk $50 in gold f'um me and $50 in Jeff Davis' shimplasters f'um my brother. Pa and Ma had left dat money for us to use when us got big enough. A few Niggers managed somehow to buy a little land. I couldn't rightly say when de school was set up.
"Me and Carrie Rucker, us ain't been married long. I thinks big weddin's is a foolish waste of time and money. Yessum, I'm moughty proud of all of Carrie's grandchillun and I'm fond of evvyone of dem 24 great-grandchillun of hers.
"Well, it was a God-sent method Mr. Lincoln used to give us our freedom. Mr. Davis didn't want no war, and he 'posed it all he knowed how, but if he hadn't a gone ahead and fit, dere never would have been nothin' done for us. Far as I knows, Booker Washin'ton done some good things in his day and time, but I don't know much 'bout him.
"In a way, I'm satisfied wid what confronts me. A pusson in jail or on de chaingang would ruther be outside and free dan in captivity. Dat's how I feels.
"When dey read dis passage of de Bible to me, I 'cided to jine up wid de church. 'Come ye out f'um amongst dem, and ye shall be my people.' I think evvybody ought to read dat verse, jine de church, and den live 'ligious lifes. I done been changed f'um darkness to light. 'Oh, for a closer walk wid God.'
"Yes Ma'am, Miss, I done been here a long time I done seed many come and go. Lots of changes has tuk place. I done told you 'bout f'um de cradle to de grave, and I enjoyed doin' it. All dat ricollectin' sho' tuk me back over many a rocky road, but dem was de days what ain't never gwine to be no more."
Person Interviewed: ANNIE HUFF, EX-SLAVE, of near Macon, Georgia Jul 28 1937
A large windmill beside the highway, on the Houston Road near Seven Bridges, draws the attention of a traveler to a two-story house, recently remodeled, which was the colonial home of Mr. Travis Huff, now occupied by Mrs. Rosa Melton, his grand-daughter. During the days of slavery the master and an indulgent mistress with their twelve slaves lived on this property. Mr. Huff's family was a large one, all of whom were well educated and very religious. Several of his daughters became teachers after the close of the Civil War.
Among the "quarter" families were Annie Huff and her daughters, Mary being the elder. The mother cooked and the small children learned to sweep the yard and to do minor jobs in the field at a very early age. At the age of twelve, the girls were taught to card and spin as well as to knit and were required to do a certain task each day until they were large enough to assist with the heavier work. The adult females did this type of work after sunset, when their labor in the field was over. On rainy days they shucked and shelled corn or did some other kind of indoor labor.
Generally, this group was humanely treated, but occasionally one was unmercifully beaten. In spite of the fact that there was only one male among his slaves, Mr. Huff's outbursts of temper caused him to be so cruel that his daughters would frequently beg him to end his punishment.
Frolics were mostly given at corn shuckings, cane grindings, hog killings, or quiltings. At hog killing time, huge containers of water were heated in the yard. When it reached the desired temperature, the hogs were driven to a certain spot where they were struck a hard blow on the head. When they fell, they were stuck with a very sharp knife, then scalded in the boiling water. The hair and dirt were then scrubbed off and they were a pretty light color as they hung from a rack to be dressed. When the work was completed, the guests cooked chitterlings and made barbecue to be served with the usual gingercake and persimmon beer. They then dressed in their colorful "Sunday" garments, dyed with maple and dogwood bark, to engage in promenades, cotillions, etc., to the time of a quill instrument.
On Sunday, church services were held at Old Liberty Church where seats in the rear were provided for all adult slaves. The small children were not allowed to attend these services, but they frequently sneaked away from home and attended in spite of the restriction. It was expedient that they also leave before the close of the service, but often lingered on the roadside and waited for Mr. Huff to pass. He'd stop and ask them where they's been, and as they danced up and down they replied in chorus: "We've been to church, Master; we've been to church."
The presence of slave visitors was not encouraged, for Mr. Huff usually purchased women with children and there were no married couples living on his place. However, young Negro men would often sneak in the cabins at night—usually coming through the windows—and visit with their sweethearts.
Gifts of handkerchiefs and earrings were smuggled in strictly against the rules of the Master.
Children tattlers kept Mr. Huff informed regarding the happenings in the quarters, but their silence could be bought with a few shin plasters. This "hush" money and that made from running errands were enough to keep the children supplied with spending change. Often, when their childish prattle had caused some adult to be punished, Mrs. Huff would keep them in the house for a night to escape the wrath of the offender.
All food was raised on the plantation and cooked in the family kitchen. Every one had the same kind of food and the game caught or killed by the elder sons was a delicacy relished by all. When the family meal was served, a mischievous collection of black children would sometimes crawl under the table and meddle with each person seated there. Instead of being scolded, they would receive luscious morsels from the hands of the diners. Mrs. Huff often laughingly stated that she knew not which was more annoying—"the children or the chickens, as neither were disciplined."
Probably because of the absence of male slaves, no shoe-maker was maintained. Footwear for the entire group was purchased at Strong's Shoe Store in Macon.
Superstition was usually a part of the life of a slave. Those seeking to escape from a cruel Master used to rub turpentine on the soles of their feet to prevent capture. Others collected quantities of soil from a graveyard and sprinkled it in their tracks for a certain distance. Both of these precautions were used to throw the dogs off scent. Refugee slaves often found shelter on Mr. Huff' estate, where they were assisted in further flight by the Huff Negroes. Those who remained in the woods were fed regularly.
Mr. Huff was not in favor of emancipating the slaves. One of his sons, Ramsey Huff, fought in the Confederate Army.
The slaves rejoiced at every bit of news which they heard regarding the probability of their being freed by the Yankees. During the latter part of the war, people from Macon journeyed to the outlying swampy sections to hide their valuables, many of which were never recovered.
Mr. Huff owned a place in Houston County where he hid most of his provisions, but these were stolen before the close of the war. A few Yankees who visited his home did little damage beyond the destruction of a turnip patch.
When the war ended, Mr. Huff would not tell his slaves they were free, for, it was said, that he hated the thought of a Negro being able to wear a starched shirt. Slaves from neighboring plantations spread the news. A few days later Mrs. Huff returned from a trip to Macon and called all the children together to tell them that, even though they were free, they would have to remain with her until they were twenty-one. Little Mary exclaimed loudly—"I'm free! I won't stay here at all!"
When the Emancipation Proclamation was made public, the Yankee soldiers gave a dinner in Macon for all Negroes and poor Whites who cared to come. A line was formed on the outside of the building in which the dinner was served and no one was allowed to enter unless he was in poor circumstances. Food of every description was served in abundance and all admitted were allowed to eat as much as they desired.
Annie Huff moved to Macon when she was freed and her daughter, Mary, now eighty-seven years old, was reared here. She attributed her long life to the excellent care she has always taken of herself.
Huff, Mary, 561 Cotton Avenue, Macon, Georgia
Adella S. Dixon District 7 May 8 1937
Bryant Huff Old Slave Story
Bryant Huff was the son of Janie and Daniel Huff who were born on neighboring plantations between Camack and Augusta. They were married while they still belonged to separate owners, but when "Marse" Jesse Rigerson, to whom Janie belonged, decided to move, he bought Daniel in order that he might live with his wife and family. They moved to Warren County and it was here that Bryant was born. He was one of twelve children.
Bryant's early life was not one to inspire pleasant memories for his master, a highly educated man; ardent church worker, had a cruel nature and a temper that knew no bounds. Owning 800 acres of land in a fairly level section, he ruled his small kingdom with an iron hand. Bryant's father, Daniel, was the only man who did not fear "Marse" Rigerson.
The quarters consisted of poorly constructed cabins with worse interiors. There were no beds, only bunks made of two poles balancing sides nailed to the walls. Rags and old clothing served as a mattress and the other furniture was equally bad. Food was cooked on an open fireplace and the frying pan was the most important utensil; vegetables were boiled in a swinging kettle. The griddle stood several inches from the floor, on three small pegs. Through the middle a "pin" was placed so that the griddle might revolve as the bread etc., cooked on the side near the hottest part of the fire. Matches, a luxury, were then sold in small boxes the size of the average snuff box at ten cents per box.
All the slaves worked from sunrise to sunset; the majority did field work. Women, as well as men, shared farm work. Small boys not old enough to be sent to the field, minded horses, drove cows to and from the pasture, and did chores around the "big house". A few women prepared meals and supervised a group of younger girls who did general work in the big house.
Sunday was the only day of rest and usually all the adults attended church. On this plantation a church with a colored Minister was provided and services, while conducted on the same order as those of the white churches, were much longer. Generally children were not allowed to attend church, but occasionally this privilege was granted to one. Huff recalls vividly his first visit to Sunday services. Being very small and eager to attend he sat quietly by his mother's side and gazed with wonder at the minister and congregation. An emotional outburst was part of the services and so many of the "sisters" got "happy" that the child, not having witnessed such a scene before, was frightened; as the number of shouters increased, he ran from the building screaming in terror.
Of the 12 children in his family, 2 were sold. The eldest child, Harriet, owned by a Judge who lived on a neighboring plantation, returned to the family after Emancipation. The father left home in a fit of anger because one of his children had been whipped. The master, knowing how devoted he was to his wife, placed her and her infant child in jail. Shortly afterward, the father returned and was allowed to visit his wife and to go unmolested. A few weeks later he came back to the jail, and was allowed to enter, as before, but when ready to leave, was told that he was there for safe keeping. The next day, he and his son, Johnie, were sold to some speculators who promised to carry them so far away that they could not return. As Daniel left, he told his wife to wait for him to return, whether it be months or years. She grieved over his departure and refused, although urged, to marry again. A few months before the close of the Civil War, her husband appeared and remained on the plantation until emancipation. Johnie was accidently killed shortly after his departure.
While most of the punishment was given by the "patty-roller" and the Master, in some instances overseers were allowed to administer it. Some of these overseers were Negroes and occasionally there was trouble when they attempted to punish another slave. Huff recalls having seen one of these "bosses" approach his mother as she toiled in the field and questioned her regarding her whereabouts on the previous evening. She refused to answer and as he approached her in a threatening manner, she threw piles of twigs upon him. (She was loading a wagon with small limbs cut from trees on "new ground"). He fled in terror. That night, as the mother and her children were seated in their cabin, the same man accompanied by their Master entered, tied her hands and led her from the home. She was carried quite a distance down the road and severely beaten.
Food was provided by the Master who gave it out in regular weekly allotments. Collard greens, peas, smoked meat and corn bread were the chief items on all menus. On Sundays a small amount of flour for biscuits and some coffee was given; buttermilk was always plentiful. Holidays were usually synonymous with barbecue when large hogs and beeves were killed and an ample supply of fresh meat was given each person. As all food was raised on the plantation, everyone had plenty.
Cloth spun from cotton produced at home was woven into the material under the watchful eye of the mistress, afterwards being cut into dresses for the women, shirts and trousers for men. Winter garments were made of wool from home raised sheep. Some of this home-spun material was colored with dye made from powdered red rocks. With a shoe hammer, last, pegs (instead of nails) and a standard pattern slave cobblers fashioned shoes from the hides of their master's cattle. They were no models of beauty, but strong, durable shoes designed for hard wear.
Bryant was not superstitious, although he did sometimes wonder when "signs" proved true. Superstition, however, had a strong grip on slave life. A fellow slave named Andy was a seasoned runaway and the overseer usually set the hounds after him. (Going to a fortune teller Andy secured a "hound" which caused all dogs to be friendly with him. There after when the hounds were set upon him, he played with them, turned their ears inside out, and sent them back to their owner.)
The attitude of the slaves toward freedom varied and as they were not allowed to discuss it, their hope was veiled in such expressions as the "LORD will provide". Some were even afraid to settle any statement and silently prayed that their release would come soon. Some feared that something might prevent their emancipation so they ran away and joined the Yankee Army, hoping to be able to destroy their former master.
During this time masters suffered as well as their slaves, for many of their sons went gaily forth to battle and were never heard of again. Simpson Rigerson, son of "Marse" Jesse Rigerson, was lost to his parents. A younger son, who lost his right hand while "helping" feed cane to a grinder, is the only member of the family now living.
Sorrow did not break this slaves group and they soon learned to sing away their troubles. One song which gives some light on their attitude toward the government went as follows:
I. Jeff Davis rode the gray horse Ole Lincoln rode the mule Jeff Davis is the gentleman Ole Lincoln is the fool
Chorus:
I'll lay ten dollars down I'll count it one by one. I'll give ten dollars to know the man Who struck Peter Butler's son.
II. I lay down in my bed I lay down in no dread Conscript come and took me And dragged me from my bed.
III. I went down a new cut road She went down the lane I turned my back upon her And 'long come Liza Jane.
After freedom was declared, Bryant Huff's family moved several miles from the Rigerson plantation to one owned by an elderly woman. They ran from a mean master but their flight was a "leap from the frying pan into the fire", for this woman proved even worse than their former master. At the close of the war the K.K.K. was very active and their fearful exploits made them the terror of the slaves. A band of the latter was organized to attempt to curb the K.K.K. activities. Neither gang knew who was a member of the other, but their clashes were frequent. One night the K.K.K. appeared at the Huff cabin and when admitted took the father, an uncle, and a man named Mansfield from the house. After forcing the father to break a gun which he had borrowed from Mr. Rigerson, they beat him so brutally that his arm was broken. The uncle, a minister who preached a type of doctrine that they liked, was unharmed. Mansfield, accused of being a member of the anti-K.K.K. gang, was beaten unmercifully. While this was being done, two members of the gang returned to the house where they searched the back room (men slept in the front room, the women and children in the rear) to see if any adults were secreted there. The small boys under the bed said "Don't harm us, we're only children". After this outrage, done at the request of the mistress, the Huff family moved back to the Rigerson plantation.
Mr. Rigerson's harsh disposition was broken after the Civil War ended and he repented of his severe treatment of his former slaves. Daniel Huff whom he had despised and feared, became his best friend who nursed him until death. Huff's wife received three acres of ground and two houses from her former master who also gave her an apology for his past meanness and stated that he wished to provide her with a home for life.
During this period martial law prevailed in the South. The Yankee troops, placed in every town, were the only police present and all cases from the county were presented to them for settlement.
A few years after emancipation, Bryant then a young man, ran away from home and apprenticed himself to a physician who became interested in his thirst for knowledge and gave him an opportunity to attend school. After several years of hard study, he went before the board of examiners in order to teach. After 2 examinations he was immediately appointed to teach at the school where he had once been a pupil.
Huff, now on aged man, is dependent upon local relief for his sustenance. He is able to do light work like sweeping yards and is a very good umbrella mender and shoe repairer, but is not able to go in search of work. He has smoked since he was a young man and has never taken especial care of his health, so his long life may be attributed to a strong constitution.
PLANTATION LIFE as related by Ex-Slave:
[TR: Date Stamped May 13 1938]
EASTER HUFF 125 Rockspring St., Athens, Georgia.
Written by: Sadie B. Hornsby Athens, Georgia
Edited by: Sarah H. Hall Athens — Florence Blease John N. Booth Augusta, Georgia.
EASTER HUFF Ex-Slave—Age 80
Easter eagerly complied with the request for the story of her life, "I done forgot a heap I knowed, but I allus loves to talk 'bout de old times." She declared solemnly. "Dis young race lives so fas' dey needs to know what a hard time us had."
"I was borned in Oglethorpe County on Marse Jabe Smith's plantation. I don't 'zactly know how old I is, but I was jus' a chap when de war ended. Easter is my right name, but white folkses calls me Esther. Mammy was Louisa Smith, but I don't know nothin' 'bout my gram'ma, 'cause she died 'fore I was born, and she done de cookin' in de white folkses house. I can't tell you nothin' 'bout neither one of my gram'pas.
"Us slep' on corded beds what had high postes and ruffled curtains 'round de foot. De beds what had curtains all 'round de top of dem high postes was called teester beds. When all dem curtains was fresh washed and starched, de beds sho' did look grand. Chilluns slep' on pallets on de flo'.
"Mammy was a plow hand, but us chillun didn't do nothin' much 'cept eat and play and sleep in de grass 'til she got in from de fiel' evvy night. De big old cook house had a partition 'crost it, and on one side Aunt Peggy done all de cookin' for Old Marster's household and for de slaves too. On de udder side of de partition was de loom room whar Aunt Peggy weaved all de cloth and Mrs. Lacy Hines, what lived on another plantation not far f'um us, made all our clothes.
"Chilluns didn't know nothin' 'bout gittin' no money of dey own 'til atter de war. Mammy, she made her little money knittin' socks, and patchin' clothes at night, and she had done saved up nigh $40.00 in Confederate money. Dey called it Confederate shucks atter de war 'cause it warn't no good no more den, and she let us chillun play wid it. De shin plasters was Confederate money for as low as 25 cents.
"Victuals dem days warn't fancy lak day is now, but Marstar allus seed dat us had plenty of milk and butter, all kinds of greens for bilein', 'tatoes and peas and sich lak. Chilluns et cornbread soaked in de pot liquor what de greens or peas done been biled in. Slaves never got much meat. Dey mixed butter wid home-made syrup and sopped it up wid cornbread. Dare warn't much wheat bread for slaves.
"Dere was a good 'possum hound on de plantation what was a fine rabbit dog too, and Marster let us use him to ketch us lots of 'possums and rabbits. De mens went seinin' at night in Buffalo Crick what run thoo' Marse Jabe's place. Dey used to put back all de little fishes and de turkles and tarrepins. 'Possums was baked wid sweet 'tatoes and rabbits was parbiled in a big old open fireplace in big pots and skillets. Marster had one big gyarden whar enough was growed for evvybody on de whole plantation, but some of de slaves was 'lowed to have deir own little gyardens and cotton patches what dey wukked on moonlight nights.
"De gal chillun in dem days wore little slips, and de boys had shirts split up de sides. Dey jus' wore one piece in summer, no drawers or nothin'. In de winter us had good warm clothes, made out of coarse ausenburg (osnaburg) cloth. Us wore de same clothes Sundays as evvyday, only us was s'posed to put 'em on clean on Sunday mornin'. A colored man named Clark Dogget made our shoes out of rough red leather what never had been dyed or colored up none. Sometimes Manuel would have to help him wid de shoemakin'.
"On Sundays Mammy would comb my hair and put a clean dress on me, and den take me to de white folkses' church at Salem, whar dere was two rows of benches in de back for slaves. Rev. Brantley Calloway was de pastor, and Rev. Patrick Butler preached too.
"I never seed no baptizin's or fun'als in slavery days, but atter anybody was buried Mammy tuk us to de graveyard and let us look at de grave. Dey allus put a fence made wid pine poles 'round de grave. Some few of de slaves might have read de Bible a little, but dar warn't none what could write.
"I jined church 'cause I was converted and had done changed my way of livin'. I think folkses ought to be 'ligious so dey can help others to live lak de Bible says.
"Marse Jabe Smith was a good white man. He was a grand fiddler and he used to call us to de big house at night to dance for him. I couldn't do nothin' 'cept jump up and down and I sho' did git tired. Marse Jabe warn't married. He raised his brother's chillun, but dey was all grown when de war come on.
"I done clean forgot de name of Marster's overseer and I don't ricollec' how many acres was in dat plantation, but it sho' was a big one. Dere was 'bout 25 grown slaves, and a lot of Nigger chillun rompin' round. De overseer got 'em up 'bout three 'clock and dey stayed in de field 'til sundown 'fore dey started for de house.
"When dey got f'um de fields at night, de 'omans spun, mended, and knit, and de mens wukked in deir gyardens and cotton patches. Winter nights dey plaited baskets and made hoss collars. All de slaves knocked off at twelve o'clock Sadday. Dere was allus somepin' to do on Sadday night—frolics, dances, and sich lak. Dey picked de banjo and knocked on tin pans for music to dance by. Sunday was a rest day. Slaves visited each other or went to church if dey wanted to, but dey had to git a pass.
"I seed dem patterollers on hosses jus' goin' it down de big road. I seed 'em axin' Niggers dey met if dey had passes. Attar dey looked at de passes, dey would let 'em go on. But if a slave was cotched widout no pass dey would beat him mos' nigh to death. If us had patterollers to keep Niggers f'um gallivantin' 'round so much now days, dar wouldn't be so much devilment done.
"Some of de slaves jus' had to be whupped 'cause dey wouldn't behave. On our plantation, de overseer done de whuppin'; Marse Jabe never totched 'em. Mammy told us 'bout seein' slaves put on de block in Virginny and sold off in droves lak hosses.
"Didn't none of Marse Jabe's Niggers run off to de North dat I knowed 'bout. One Nigger named Barlow what was too lazy to wuk in de field slipped off to de woods and made hisself a den to live in. He made baskets, footmats, and brooms, and used to come out at night and sell 'em. Dey said he would steal de white folkses' hogs, chickens, and jus' anythin' he could put his hands on. If dey ever cotched him, I don't know nothin' 'bout it. Mammy used to skeer us pretty nigh to death at night when she wanted us to go on to bed. She said if us didn't go to sleep Barlow sho' would git us.
"Oh! us did have a time at Chris'mas. Dey would have plenty to eat; eggnog and all sorts of good things, and sometimes mens and 'omans got drunk and cut up. Marse Jabe allus give us a little cheese to eat Christmas time. On New Year's Day all de slaves went to de big house for a council. Marse Jabe would talk to 'em and counsel 'em for de New Year and tell 'em how to live.
"Cornshuckin's! Yassum, I ricollects cornshuckin's. De folkses comed f'um all de plantations close 'round. Atter dey was thoo' wid shuckin' de corn, dey gathered 'round a long table in de yard. Marse Jabe had de prettiest level yard you ever seed; it was swept so nice and clean. De victuals was piled on dat table, and dey give us great kegs of apple and peach brandy.
"Mammy used to tell us 'bout Raw-head an' Bloody-bones if us didn't go to bed when she wanted to go out. Us sho' would pile in in a hurry den, and duck under dat kivver and most nigh die 'cause us was skeered to look out lessen he mought be dar atter us.
"Marse Jabe was mighty good to his slaves when dey got sick. I seed Mammy sick once. Dr. Lumpkin Landon was sont atter. De slaves would git fever weeds and sweetgum bark, bile 'em together, and take de tea for colds, coughs, and fever. Dey wore little sacks of assfidity (assafoetida) 'round dey necks to keep off disease, and strung hollow treadsass (treadsalve) roots on strings lak necklaces and hung 'em 'round de babies' necks to make 'em teethe easy.
"Soon atter de surrender, Marse Jabe told his Niggers dey was free as he was, but dat he didn't want nary one to leave him. He wanted 'em to stay wid him he said, and he offered to pay 'em wages. Dere warn't nary one what left. Mammy wukked and plowed right on lak she done before. Atter I was big enough, I went to Lexin'ton to wuk for Mrs. McWhorter.
"When I married Bob Willin'ham, I sho' had a nice weddin'. I was married in a blue merino dress. My underskirt was white as snow wid trimmin's on it. I wore long drawers what was trimmed fancy at de bottom. Our white folkses give us lots of cake, turkey, ham, and sich lak for de weddin' feast. Our only child was named Minnie, and dere was five of our grandchillun, but dey's all dead now but two. One lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, and I lives wid de udder one what wuks at de chapter house here. Atter Bob died, I married Lumpkin Huff, but us didn't have no weddin' dat time. De preacher jus' come to my house and married us. I went to Elberton wid 'im, but he was so mean I didn't live wid 'im but eight months before I come back to Athens.
"Dey used to have a song 'bout Mr. Lincoln when I was a little chap, but I done forgot it. No Ma'am, I don't know nothin' 'bout Mr. Davis and Booker Washin'ton. Dem days I never heard much 'bout folkses away off f'um here.
"I b'lieve I'se done told you all I knows 'bout back days. I don't know nothin' 'bout dese fas' present-day ways o' livin'. When I was a chap and got a whuppin' and Mammy heerd 'bout it I got another one. Now dey takes you to de law. Yes Ma'am, for myself I'd rather have de old days wid good Old Marster to take keer of me."
PLANTATION LIFE, AS VIEWED BY AN EX-SLAVE
Written By: Miss Grace McCune Athens —
Edited By: Mrs. Sarah H. Hall Athens —
and
John N. Booth District Supervisor Federal Writers' Project Residences No. 6 & 7 Augusta, Georgia Sept. 21, 1938.
Lina Hunter Ex-Slave, Age about 90 270 Bailey Street Athens, Georgia
Lina Hunter's weather-beaten house nestles at the foot of a long hill, and several large chinaberry trees furnish shade for her well-kept yard. As the visitor hesitated before the rickety front steps someone called from inside the house, "Chile, do be keerful on dem old steps 'cause dey might fall wid you; dey done went through wid some of dese chillun here."
The tall mulatto woman who came to the door had tiny plaits of white hair that covered her head in no apparent design. Her faded print dress was clean, and she wore badly scuffed brogan shoes several sizes too large on her stockingless feet. In answer to an inquiry she replied: "Dis is Lina's house, and I is Lina. Have a cheer out here on de porch, please, mam, 'cause de gals is ironin' in de house and dem fire buckets sho make it hot in dar."
Lina readily agreed to tell of her life in the ante-bellum period. "I 'members all 'bout slavery time," she laughed, "cause I was right dar. Course I warn't grown-up, but I was big enough to holp Great-granny Rose look atter all dem other slave chillun whilst deir mammies and daddies was in de field at wuk.
"Anne and Peter Billups was my mammy and daddy, and my granddaddy and grandmammy was Washin'ton and Tiller Billups; all of 'em belonged to Old Marster Jack Billups. Marse Jack stayed in Athens, but his plantation, whar I was borned and whar all my folks was borned and raised, was 'way down in Oglethorpe County. I don't rightly know how old I is, 'cause all Marster's old records is done got lost or 'stroyed, evvy blessed one of 'em, but I'se been here a mighty long time.
"Honey, dat old plantation was sho one big place. Back of de big house, whar de overseer lived, was just rows and rows of slave cabins. Dey stacked 'em up out of big logs jus' lak dey made hog-pen fences. All de cracks 'twixt de logs was chinked up tight wid red mud and, let me tell you, Honey, dey was keerful to lay on so much red mud over dem sticks dat chimblies on our place never did ketch fire lak dey did on some of de places whar dey done things sort of shiftless lak. Dem cabins had two rooms and a shed room 'crost de back whar day done de cookin'. Two famblies lived in evvy cabin.
"Dey allus had plenty to cook, 'cause dere was plenty of victuals raised on Marse Jack's place. Chillun was all fed up at de big house whar Marse Garner, de overseer, lived. Deir mammies was 'lowed to come in from de fields in time to cook dinner for de menfolks, but dey didn't git deir chillun back home 'til atter supper. Granny Rose had 'em all day, and she had to see dat dey had de right sort of victuals to make chillun grow fast and strong. Chillun et out of wooden trays, and, Honey, dey sho was some sight; dey looked jus' lak pig troughs. Dey poured peas, cabbage, or whatever de chillun was to eat right in dat trough on top of a passel of cornbread. For supper chillun jus' had milk and bread, but dere was allus plenty of it. Marse Jack had lots of cows, and old Aunt Mary didn't have no other job but to churn enough so dere would allus be plenty of milk and butter, 'cause Marse Jack had done said milk was good for chillun and dat us was to have it to drink any time us wanted it.
"Evvybody cooked on fireplaces den. I jus' wish you could see dat big old fireplace in de big house kitchen; you could stand up in it. It had long racks clear acrost de inside for de pots what dey biled in to hang on. Bakin' was done in thick iron skillets dat had heavy lids. You sot 'em on coals and piled more coals all over 'em. Us had somepin dat most folks didn't have; dat was long handled muffin pans. Dey had a lid dat fitted down tight, and you jus' turned 'em over in de fire 'til de muffins was cooked on both sides. I had dem old muffin irons here, but de lid got broke off and dese here boys done lost 'em diggin' in de ground wid 'em. Dem victuals cooked on open fireplaces was mighty fine, and I wishes you could have a chance to see jus' how nice dey was.
"Evvy kind of vegetable us knowed anything 'bout was raised right dar on de place and dey had big old fields of corn, oats, rye, and wheat. Us had lots of fruit trees on de plantation too. Dere warn't no runnin' off to de store evvy time dere was a special meal to be got up. Coffee, sugar, salt, and black pepper was de most Marse Jack had to buy in de way of victuals. Course dey was hard to git in war times. Parched corn and okra seed was ground together for coffee, and us had to git up dirt under old smokehouses and bile it down for salt. Dere was allus a little sugar 'round de sides of de syrup barr'ls, and us had to make out wid dat hot red pepper 'til atter de war was done over a good long time, 'fore dere was any more black pepper shipped in. Spite of all dat, Honey, dem was good old days.
"Marster raised enough cows, sheep, hogs, chickens, and turkeys for us to have all de meat us needed. He had lots of mules and oxen too. Dey used de mules for 'most of de plowin' and for goin' to mill, and don't forgit it took plenty of goin' to mill to feed as many Niggers as our Marster had. Lordy, Lady! I never knowed how many slaves he owned. Oxen pulled dem two-wheeled carts dey hauled in de craps wid, and I has rid to town in a ox-cart many a time. Dem old oxen was enough to make a preacher lose his best 'ligion. Dey had a heap of mean ways, but de wust thing dey done was to run spang down in de water evvy time dey come to a crick. It never mattered how deep it was, and you might holler all day, but dey warn't coming out of dat water 'till dey was good and ready. Dat happened evvy time dey saw a crick, but dere warn't nothin' us could do 'bout it, for Marse Jack sho never 'lowed nobody to lay deir paws on his stock.
"Folks wove all deir cloth at home dem days. Dey made up plenty of cotton cloth for hot weather, and for de cold wintertime, dere warn't nothin' warmer dat us knowed about dan de cloth dey made out of home-raised wool and cotton. Marster kept a slave dat didn't have nothin' else to do but make shoes for evvybody on de place. Yes, mam, Honey, dey tanned de hide evvy time dey kilt a cow. Leather was tanned wid whiteoak bark. Chillun's shoes was finished off wid brass knobs on de toes, and us was sho mighty dressed up Niggers when us got on dem shoes wid deir shiny knobs. Little gals' dresses was made wid long skirts gathered on to plain waisties. Dere warn't no showin' de legs lak dey does now. Little boys had red and black jeans suits made wid waisties and britches sewed together in front but wid a long buttoned-up openin' in de back. Most of de other places jus' put long shirts on little boys, but dat warn't de way dey done on our place, 'cause us didn't belong to no pore folks. Our Marster had plenty and he did lak to see his Niggers fixed up nice. Course in summertime none of de chillun didn't wear nothin' but little slips, so dey could keep cool, but in winter it was diffunt. Honey, dem old balmoral petticoats was some sight, but dey was sho warm as hell. I seed a piece of one of mine not long ago whar I had done used it to patch up a old quilt. 'Omans' dresses was made jus' about lak dis one I got on now, 'ceptin' I didn't have enough cloth to make de skirt full as dem old-time clothes used to be." The old woman stood up to show just how her dress was fashioned. The skirt, sewed to a plain, close-fitting waist, was very full in the back, but plain across the front. Lina called attention to an opening on the left side of the front. "See here, Chile," she said, "here's a sho 'nough pocket. Jus' let me turn it wrong-side-out to show you how big it is. Why, I used a whole 25 pound flour sack to make it 'cause I don't lak none of dese newfangled little pockets. I lak things de way I was raised. Dis pocket hangs down inside and nobody don't see it. De chilluns fusses 'bout my big pocket, but it ain't in none of deir dresses, and I'se sho gwine to wear 'em 'til dey is wore out to a gnat's heel.
"Chillun never had to wuk on our plantation 'til dey was big enough to go to de fields, and dat was when dey was around 12 to 14 years old. Dey jus' played 'round de yards and down by de wash-place dat was a little ways off from de big house on a branch dat run from de big spring. On wash days dat was a busy place, wid lots of 'omans bending over dem great big wash pots and de biggest old wooden tubs I ever seed. Dere was plenty racket 'round de battlin' block whar dey beat de dirt out of de clothes, and dey would sing long as dey was a-washin'.
"Marster was sho good to his Niggers all de time. Course he made 'em wuk 'less dey was sick. Chillun never had nothin' to do 'cept eat, sleep, and play. Evvy time Marse Jack come out to his plantation he brung candy for all de pickaninnies, and, Honey, it warn't in no little sacks neither; dere was allus plenty for 'em all, and it was a mighty big crowd of us. Marster loved to come out on Sundays to see us chillun git our heads combed. Honey, dere sho was hollerin' on dat place when dey started wukin' on us wid dem jim crow combs what was made lak a curry comb 'ceppin' dey warn't quite as wide acrost. When dem jim crow combs got stuck in dat tangled, kinky wool, damn if dem chillun didn't yell, and Marster would laugh and tell Granny Rose to comb it good.
"Granny Rose larnt me to keep clean and fix myself up nice, and, Honey, I ain't got too old to primp up now. One thing dis old Nigger ain't never done is to put hair straightener on her head, 'cause de Blessed Lord sont me here wid kinky hair, and I'se gwine 'way from here wid dat same old kinky hair. It's white now, but dat ain't no fault of mine. Honey, I sho do trust dat Good Lord. Why, I 'member when I used to pull out my own teeth; I jus' tied a string 'round 'em, laid down on my bed, and said, 'Lord, I is in your hands,' and den I would give dat string a hard yank and out come dem damn teeth.
"Yes, mam, I'se seed slaves sold. Dey jus' put dem Niggers up on de block and bid 'em off. A smart worker brought a big price, and a good breedin' 'oman sho did fetch de money, 'cause all de white folks did lak to have plenty chillun 'round. Dem breedin' 'omans never done no wuk a t'all; dey made other slaves wait on 'em 'til atter deir babies was borned. Slave 'omans what had babies was sont back from de fields in de mornin' and atter dinner so deir babies could suck 'til atter dey was big enough to eat bread and milk; den dey was kept wid de other chillun for Granny Rose to keer for.
"Slaves didn't even git married lak folks does now. Dere warn't none of dem newfangled licenses to buy. All dey had to do was tell Marster dey wanted to marry up. If it was all right wid him he had 'em jump over a broom and dey was done married. Slaves couldn't git out and do no courtin' on other plantations widout deir marsters knowed it, 'cause dey had to have passes to leave de place whar dey lived. If dey was brash enough to go off widout no pass de paterollers would cotch 'em for sho, and dey would nigh beat 'em to death. Dat didn't stop courtin', 'specially on our place, 'cause dey jus' tuk anybody dey laked; it didn't matter whose man or 'oman dey had.
"Marster had a big old ginhouse on de plantation about 2 miles from de big house, but I never seed in it, 'cause dey didn't 'low 'omans and chillun 'round it. De menfolks said dey hitched up mules to run it, and dat dey had a cotton press inside de ginhouse. Dey said it was a heap of trouble to git rid of all dem old cotton-seeds dat piled up so fast in ginnin' time. Dere was a great big wuk-shop on de place too, whar dey fixed evvything, and dat was whar dey made coffins when anybody died. Yes, mam, evvything was made at home, even down to de coffins.
"Dere didn't many folks die out back in dem good old days, 'cause dey was made to take keer of deirselfs. Dey had to wuk hard, but dey et plenty and went to bed reg'lar evvy night in wuk time. When one of 'em did die out, deir measure was tuk and a coffin was made up and blackened 'til it looked right nice. Whenever dere was a corpse on de place Marster didn't make nobody do no wuk, 'cept jus' look atter de stock, 'til atter de buryin'. Dey fixed up de corpses nice. Yes, mam, sho as you is borned, dey did; dey made new clothes for 'em and buried 'em decent in de graveyard on de place. Marse Jack seed to dat. Dey put de coffin on a wagon, and de folks walked to de graveyard. Dere was crowds of 'em; dey come from jus' evvywhar. A preacher, or some member of deir marster's fambly, said a prayer, de folks sung a hymn, and it was all over. 'Bout de biggest buryin' us ever had on our place was for a 'oman dat drapped down in de path and died when she was comin' in from de field to nuss her baby. Yes, mam, she was right on de way to Granny Rose's cabin in de big house yard.
"No, mam, I ain't forgot when de Yankees come to our place. Dat was right atter de end of de war, not long atter us had been told 'bout freedom. When us heared dey was on deir way us tuk and hid all de stuff us could, but dey sho tore up dat place. Dey tuk all de meat out of de smokehouse and give it to de Niggers, but deir bellies was already full and dey didn't need it, so dey give it back to Marse Jack soon as dem sojers was gone. 'Fore dey left dem Yankee sojers tuk Marse Jack's mules and horses slap out of de plows and rid 'em off, and left deir old wore-out stock right dar.
"Freedom didn't make so many changes on our place right at fust, 'cause most of de slaves stayed right on dar, and things went on jus' lak dey had 'fore dere was any war. Marse Jack had done told 'em dey was free, but dat dem what wanted to stay would be tuk keer of same as 'fore de war. Dere warn't many what left neither, 'cause Marse Jack had been so good to evvy one of 'em dey didn't want to go 'way.
"Honey, back in dem good old days us went to church wid our white folks. Slaves sot in de gallery or in de back of de church. I'se been to dat old Cherokee Corners Church more times dan I knows how to count, but de fust baptizin' I ever seed was at de old St. Jean church; dere was jus' three or four baptized dat day, but Lordy, I never did hear such prayin', shoutin', and singin', in all my born days. One old 'oman come up out of dat crick a-shoutin' 'bout she was walkin' through de pearly gates and wearin' golden slippers, but I looked down at her foots and what she had on looked more lak brogans to me. I kin still hear our old songs, but it's jus' now and den dat dey come back to my mind."
For a moment Lina was quiet, then she said, "Honey, I wants to smoke my old pipe so bad I kin most taste it, but how in hell kin I smoke when I ain't had no 'baccy in two days? Chile, ain't you got no 'baccy wid you, jus' a little 'baccy? You done passed de nighest store 'bout 2 miles back toward town," she said, "but if you will pay for some 'baccy for Lina, some of dese good-for-nothin' chillun kin sho go git it quick and, whilst dey's dar, dey might as well git me a little coffee too, if you kin spare de change." The cash was supplied by the visitor, and Lina soon started the children off running. "If you stops airy a minute," she told them, "I'se gwine take de hide offen your backs, sho' as you is borned." As soon as they were out of sight, she returned to her chair and started talking again.
"Yes, mam, Honey, things went on 'bout de same old way atter de war." Suddenly the old woman leaped to her feet and began shouting, "Bless God A'mighty! Praise de Lord! I knows de key to prayers. I'se done prayed jus' dis mornin' for de Lord to send me some 'baccy and coffee, and God is done sont Missy wid de money to answer my prayer. Praise de Lord! I'se glad I'se here, 'cause I coulda been gone and missed my 'baccy and coffee. Praise God! I'se gwine to smoke dat damned old pipe one more time." She seized the visitor by the shoulder as she shouted, "I sho laks your looks, but you may be de devil for all I knows, and you may be fixin' to put me in de chaingang wid all dis here writin', but" here she gave the startled visitor a shake that almost pulled her out of the chair, "Damn, if I don't lak you anyhow."
Her granddaughter, Callie, came out on the porch to see what was wrong with Lina. "Granny," she said, "I wouldn't talk lak dat. Missy will think you is dat way all de time."
"Git back to your ironin', gal," said Lina. "I knows I talks right smart ugly. Didn't my Miss Fannie, tell me one time she was gwine to put potash in my mouth to clean it out? Now, Nigger, I said git, 'fore I hits you." Her grandmother started toward her, and Callie lost no time going inside the house. Lina went back to her chair, and as she sat down started singing. With each note her tones grew louder. The words were something like this:
"God A'mighty, when my heart begins to burn And dat old wheel begins to turn, Den, Oh, Lord! Don't leave me here."
It seemed from the length of her chant that the wheels would turn indefinitely, but no sooner had she finished that song, than she started another.
"When my old mammy died a-shoutin', All de friend I had done died and gone. She died a-prayin', she died a-prayin'.
"In dat day dat you died, dat you died, Gwine to be a star risin' in dat mornin'. Didn't you hear 'em say, 'gwine to be a Star risin' in de mornin'.
"De Christians all will know in dat day, Dat my old mammy died a-shoutin', died a-shoutin', 'Cause dat star sho gwine to be dar.
"Oh, Lord! Don't leave me now, Oh, Lord! But guide me all 'long de way, 'long de way. 'Cause I'se in trouble, dat I am. Lord! Oh, Lord! don't leave me now." |
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