"Atter I work for Mr. Beestinger, I wait on Mr. Blunt. You know Mr. Blunt, ain't you? His place out dere now.

"Mr. Bostick was a good ole man. He been deaf. His chillun tend to his business—his sons. He was a preacher. His father was ole man Ben Bostick. De Pipe Creek Church was ole Missus Bostick's Mammy's church. When de big church burn down by de Yankees, dey give de place to de colored folks. Stephen Drayton was de first pastor de colored folks had. Dey named de church, Canaan Baptist Church. Start from a bush arbor. De white folks church was paint white, inside an' out. It was ceiled inside. Dis church didn't have no gallery for de colored folks. Didn't make no graveyard at Pipe Creek! Bury at Black Swamp! An' at Lawtonville! De people leave dat church an' go to Lawtonville to worship. Dey been worshipping at Lawtonville ever since before I could wake up to know. De Pipe Creek Church jes' stood dere, wid no service in it, 'til de Yankee burn it. De church at Lawtonville been a fine church. Didn't burn it! Use it for a hospital durin' de war!

"I'se 88 year old now an' can't remember so much. An' I'se blind! Blind in both eye!"

Source: Silvia Chisolm, R. F. D. Estill, S. C.



Project #1655 Stiles M. Scruggs Columbia, S. C.

AN EX-SLAVE WHO CLIMBED UP WITH WHITE FOLKS.

Tom Chisolm, a sixty-two year old bricklayer, 11 Railroad Street, Columbia, S. C., is a son of Caesar Chisolm, who represented Colleton County in the South Carolina House of Representatives for ten years. Caesar was one of the few leading Negroes, who voted and spoke for the Democratic Party and was friendly to the leaders of white supremacy until he died in 1897. Tom relates the following story:

"My daddy was born in slavery and he was always treated good by his master, de late Jimeson Chisolm, of Colleton County. He could read and figure up 'most anything, when he was set free, and he had notions of his own, too. For instance, he marry my mammy. She die soon after I was born, and daddy say to me: 'Son, your mammy is gone, but you need not fear dat any other woman will ever boss you. I's through with wives.' And he never marry again.

"I come to Columbia with him, when he serve in de Legislature. When he tell de niggers and white folks, back in Colleton, dat he was not aimin' to run for de Legislature no more, they was sad. One time I go with him to Smoak's, where Congressman George D. Tillman was to speak on one of his campaigns. I felt pretty big, when Congressman Tillman smile and grasp de hand of my daddy and say: 'You's goin' to say a few words for me befo' I starts, eh, Chisolm?' 'I sho' will, if you laks,' say my daddy. Soon he mount de platform, and befo' he say a word, both de white and de niggers clap deir hands and stamp deir feets and smile. My daddy bow, smile, and say: 'Ladies and gentlemen: We, us, and company sent George Tillman to Congress long ago and knows what he has done. Now we's gwine to send him back, and I is a little in doubt as to whether he is gwine to take us to Washington, or bring Washington down here!' He say, he jus' git started. But de crowd was laughin', dancin', and huggin' de Congressman, and daddy laugh and set down.

"He introduce Master Duncan Clinch Heyward at Walterboro in 1902, when Master Heyward was making his first race for governor. He raise such laughter and pay so many witty compliments to Master Heyward, dat Governor Heyward, when he was 'lected, appoint my daddy to an office in Columbia, and we come to Columbia to live in 1903. My daddy retire at de same time dat Governor Heyward quit office, in 1907. He later wrote insurance on de lives of niggers, and he prosper.

"'Bout 1885, my daddy happen to be walkin' near de corner of Gervais and Pulaski streets, and two niggers meet dere at de time and begin to quarrel. My daddy stop and watch them awhile. One of them niggers kill de other, and some time afterward a nigger lawyer come to see my daddy and ask him: 'Wasn't you dere?' 'I sho' was,' say my daddy. De nigger lawyer laugh and slap daddy on de back and say: 'Come on.' Daddy come back in a few hours pretty tipsy. 'Dat lawyer spend a lot on me,' say daddy, 'but de fool never let me tell him jus' what I knows.'

"A day or two afterward he was in de witness box. De nigger lawyer say: 'Now, Mister Chisolm, tell your tale in your own way.' Daddy say: 'I saw de defendant and de man, now dead, as they meet. They glare at each other and begin to talk harsh and cuss each other. Then, one strike at de other and they back 'way and begin to reach in deir hind pockets.' Daddy stop, and de nigger lawyer fairly scream: 'Yes, yes, go on!' 'That all I saw,' say my daddy, 'cause I run to cover. I made it to de next corner in nothin' flat and pick up speed afterward. So I was two blocks 'way, when I hear de shootin'!' De nigger lawyer nearly faint. He say: 'Who bought you off?' Daddy say he would have told him at de start, if he'd had de chance.

"At another time, we was down on de 700 block of Wayne Street, at a nigger gatherin'. We often spend days down dere collectin' weekly insurance dues, and we knowed most of de people. Dere happen to be a young nigger dere, back from de West for a visit, and he was a great bragger. He was tellin' 'bout corn in Texas. 'Dere,' he said, 'corn grow twenty feet high, with stalks as big as the arm of John L. Sullivan, when he whupped Kilrain, and half a dozen big ears on each stalk.' De crowd was thunderstruck.

"My daddy cleared his throat and say: 'Dat am nothin' in de way of corn. One day I was walkin' past a forty-acre patch of corn, on de Governor Heyward plantation by de Combahee River and de corn was so high and thick, I decide to ramble through it. 'Bout halfway over, I hears a commotion. I walks on and peeps. Dere stands a four-ox wagon backed up to de edge of de field, and two niggers was sawin' down a stalk. Finally they drag it on de wagon and drive off. I seen one of them, in a day or two, and asks 'bout it. He say: 'We shelled 366 bushels of corn from dat one ear, and then we saw 800 feet of lumber from de cob.'

"Dat young man soon slip out from de crowd and has never been seen here since. I thinks daddy was outdone with me, 'cause I was not quickwitted and smart, lak him. He tell me once: 'You must learn two good trades, and I think carpenterin' and brick-layin' safest.' I done that, and I has never been sorry, 'cause I's made a good livin'. Governor Heyward was always a good friend of daddy, and he was proud to see us makin' good in de insurance business."



Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 May 24, 1937 Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"I was born near old Bush River Baptist Church, in Newberry County, S. C. I was the slave of John Satterwhite. My mother lived with them. I was a small girl when the war was on. My brother went to war with Marse Satterwhite. When de Ku Klux and paddrollers traveled around in that section, they made Mr. Satterwhite hold the niggers when they was whipped, but he most all the time let them loose, exclaiming, 'they got loose'—he did not want many of them whipped.

"My mother had a kitchen way off from the house, wid a wide fireplace where she cooked victuals. There was holes in back of de chimney with iron rods sticking out of them to hold de pans, pots, kettles or boilers.

"People there did not believe much in ghosts. They were not much superstitious, but one time some of the negroes thought they heard the benches in Bush River Baptist Church turn over when nobody was in the church.

"Negroes most always shouted at their religious meetings. Before de negroes had their own church meetings, the slaves went to the white folks' Bush River Baptist church and set up in the gallery. I moved to Newberry when I was young, after I got married."

Source: Maria Cleland, Newberry, S. C. (80 years old). Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (5/17/37)



Project #1655 W. W. Dixon Winnsboro, S. C.

PETER CLIFTON EX-SLAVE, 89 YEARS OLD.

"You want me to start wid my fust memory and touch de high spots 'til dis very day? Dat'll take a long time but I glad to find someone to tell dat to; I is! I 'members when I was a boy, drivin' de calves to de pasture, a highland moccasin snake rise up in de path. I see dat forked tongue and them bright eyes right now. I so scared I couldn't move out my tracks. De mercy of de Lord cover me wid His wings. Dat snake uncoil, drop his head, and silently crawl away. Dat was on de Biggers Mobley place 'tween Kershaw and Camden, where I was born, in 1848.

"My pappy name Ned; my mammy name Jane. My brudders and sisters was Tom, Lizzie, Mary, and Gill. Us live in a log house wid a plank floor and a wooden chimney, dat was always ketchin' afire and de wind comin' through and fillin' de room wid smoke and cinders. It was just one of many others, just lak it, dat made up de quarters. Us had peg beds for de old folks and just pallets on de floor for de chillun. Mattresses was made of wheat straw but de pillows on de bed was cotton. I does 'member dat mammy had a chicken feather pillow she made from de feathers she saved at de kitchen.

"My grandpappy name Warren and grandmammy name Maria. De rule on de place was: 'Wake up de slaves at daylight, begin work when they can see, and quit work when they can't see'. But they was careful of de rule dat say: 'You mustn't work a child, under twelve years old, in de field'.

"My master's fust wife, I heard him say, was Mistress Gilmore. Dere was two chillun by her. Master Ed, dat live in a palace dat last time I visit Rock Hill and go to 'member myself to him; then dere was Miss Mary dat marry her cousin, Dr. Jim Mobley. They had one child, Captain Fred, dat took de Catawba rifles to Cuba and whip Spain for blowin' up de Maine. You say you rather I talk 'bout old master and de high spots? Well, Master Biggers had a big plantation and a big mansion four miles southeast of Chester. He buy my mammy and her chillun in front of de court house door in Chester, at de sale of de Clifton Estate. Then he turn 'round and buy my pappy dere, 'cause my mammy and sister Lizzie was cryin' 'bout him have to leave them. Mind you I wasn't born then. Marster Biggers was a widower then and went down and courted de widow Gibson, who had a plantation and fifty slaves 'tween Kershaw and Camden. Dere is where I was born.

"Marster had one child, a boy, by my mistress, Miss Sallie. They call him Black George. Him live long enough to marry a angel, Miss Kate McCrorey. They had four chillun. Dere got to be ninety slaves on de place befo' war come on. One time I go wid pappy to de Chester place. Seem lak more slaves dere than on de Gibson place. Us was fed up to de neck all de time, though us never had a change of clothes. Us smell pretty rancid maybe, in de winter time, but in de summer us no wear very much. Girls had a slip on and de boys happy in their shirt tails.

"Kept fox hounds on both places. Old Butler was de squirrel and 'possum dog. What I like best to eat? Marster, dere is nothin' better than 'possum and yallow sweet 'taters. Right now, I wouldn't turn dat down for pound cake and Delaware grape wine, lak my mistress use to eat and sip while she watch my mammy and old Aunt Tilda run de spinnin' wheels.

"De overseer on de place was name Mr. Mike Melton. No sir, he poor man but him come from good folks, not poor white trash. But they was cussed by marster, when after de war they took up wid de 'publican party. Sad day for old marster when him didn't hold his mouth, but I'll get to dat later.

"Marster Biggers believe in whippin' and workin' his slaves long and hard; then a man was scared all de time of being sold away from his wife and chillun. His bark was worse then his bite tho', for I never knowed him to do a wicked thing lak dat.

"How long was they whipped? Well, they put de foots in a stock and clamp them together, then they have a cross-piece go right across de breast high as de shoulder. Dat cross-piece long enough to bind de hands of a slave to it at each end. They always strip them naked and some time they lay on de lashes wid a whip, a switch or a strap. Does I believe dat was a great sin? No sir. Our race was just lak school chillun is now. De marster had to put de fear of God in them sometime, somehow, and de Bible don't object to it.

"I see marster buy a many a slave. I never saw him sell but one and he sold dat one to a drover for $450.00, cash down on de table, and he did dat at de request of de overseer and de mistress. They was uneasy 'bout him.

"They give us Christmas Day. Every woman got a handkerchief to tie up her hair. Every girl got a ribbon, every boy a barlow knife, and every man a shin plaster. De neighbors call de place, de shin plaster, Barlow, Bandanna place. Us always have a dance in de Christmas.

"After freedom when us was told us had to have names, pappy say he love his old Marster Ben Clifton de best and him took dat titlement, and I's been a Clifton ever since.

"Go way, white folks! What everthing mate for? De birds, de corn tassle and de silk, man and woman, white folks and colored folks mates. You ask me what for I seek out Christina for to marry. Dere was sumpin' 'bout dat gal, dat day I meets her, though her hair had 'bout a pound of cotton thread in it, dat just 'tracted me to her lak a fly will sail 'round and light on a 'lasses pitcher. I kept de Ashford Ferry road hot 'til I got her. I had to ask her old folks for her befo' she consent. Dis took 'bout six months. Everything had to be regular. At last I got de preacher, Rev. Ray Shelby to go down dere and marry us. Her have been a blessin' to me every day since.

"Us have seven chillun. They's scattered east, west, north, and south. De only one left is just David, our baby, and him is a baby six foot high and fifty-one years old.

"Yes sir, us had a bold, drivin', pushin', marster but not a hard-hearted one. I sorry when military come and arrest him. It was dis a way, him try to carry on wid free labor, 'bout lak him did in slavery. Chester was in military district no. 2. De whole state was under dat military government. Old marster went to de field and cuss a nigger woman for de way she was workin', choppin' cotton. She turnt on him wid de hoe and gashed him 'bout de head wid it. Him pull out his pistol and shot her. Dr. Babcock say de wound in de woman not serious. They swore out a warrant for Marster Biggers, arrest him wid a squad, and take him to Charleston, where him had nigger jailors, and was kicked and cuffed 'bout lak a dog. They say de only thing he had to eat was corn-meal-mush brought 'round to him and other nice white folks in a tub and it was ladeled out to them thru de iron railin' into de palms of dere hands. Mistress stuck by him, went and stayed down dere. The filthy prison and hard treatments broke him down, and when he did get out and come home, him passed over de river of Jordan, where I hopes and prays his soul finds rest. Mistress say one time they threatened her down dere, dat if she didn't get up $10,000 they would send him where she would never see him again.

"Well, I must be goin'. Some day when de crops is laid by and us get de boll weevil whipped off de field, I'll get David to bring me and dat gal, Christina, you so curious 'bout, to Winnsboro to see you. Oh, how her gonna laugh and shake her sides when I get home and tell her all 'bout what's down on dat paper! You say it's to be sent to Washington? Why, de President and his wife will be tickled at some of them things. I's sure they will. Dat'll make Christina have a great excitement when I tell her we is to be talked 'bout way up dere. I 'spect it will keep her wake and she'll be hunchin' me and asking me all thru de night, what I give in.

"Oh, well, I's thankful for dis hour in which I's been brought very near to de days of de long long ago. Maybe I'll get a pension and maybe I won't. Just so de Lord and de President take notice of us, is enough for me."



Project 1885-1 From Field Notes. Spartanburg, Dist. 4 April 29, 1937 Edited by: Elmer Turnage

FOLK LORE: FOLK TALES (Negro)

"I wuz born in Fairfield, dat is over yonder across Broad River, you knos what dat is, don't you? Yes sir, it wuz on Marse Johnson D. Coleman's plantation. And he had a plantation! Dese niggers here in Carlisle—and niggers is all dey is too—dey don't know what no plantation is. When I got big enough fer to step around, from de very fus, my maw took me in de big house. It still dat, cep it done bout fell down now, to what it wuz then. But some of Marse's folks, dey libs down dar still. Den you see, dey is like dese white folks up 'round here now. Dey ain't got no big money like dey had when I wuz a runnin' up. Time I got big enough fer to run aroun' in my shirt tail, my maw, she lowed one night to my paw, when he wuz settin by de fire, dat black little nigger over dar, he got to git hissef some pants kaise I'se gwine to put him up over de white fokes table. In dem times de doos and winders, dey nebber had no screen wire up to dem like dey is now. Fokes didn't know nothin bout no such as dat den. My Marster and all de other big white fokes, dey raised pea fowls. Is yu ebber seed any? Well, ev'y spring us little niggers, we coch dem wild things at night. Dey could fly like a buzzard. Dey roosted up in de pine trees, right up in de tip top. So de Missus, she hab us young uns clam up dar and git 'em when dey first took roost. Us would clam down and my maw, she would pull de long feathers out'n de tails. Fer weeks de cocks, dey wouldn't let nobody see 'em if dey could help it. Dem birds is sho proud. When dey is got de feathers, dey jus struts on de fences, and de fences wuz rail in dem days. If'n dey could see dereself in a puddle o' water after a rain, dey would stay dar all day a struttin' and carring on like nobody's business. Yes sir, dem wuz purty birds. After us got de feathers, de Missus, she'ud low dat all de nigger gals gwine to come down in de wash house and make fly brushes. Sometime de Missus 'ud gib some of de gals some short feathers to put in dere Sunday hats. When dem gals got dem hats on, I used to git so disgusted wid 'em I'd leave 'em at church and walk home by my sef. Anyway, by dat time all de new fly brushes wuz made and de Missus, she hab fans make from de short feathers for de white fokes to fan de air wid on hot days. Lawdy, I'se strayed fur from what I had started out fer to tell you. But I knowed dat you young fokes didn't know nothin' bout all dat. In dem days de dining room wuz big and had de windows open all de summer long, and all de doos stayed streched too. Quick as de mess of victuals began to come on de table, a little nigger boy was put up in de swing, I calls it, over de table to fan de flies and gnats off'en de Missus' victuals. Dis swing wuz just off'n de end of de long table. Some of de white fokes had steps a leadin' up to it. Some of 'em jus had de little boys maws to fech de young'uns up dar till dey got fru; den dey wuz fetched down again.

"Well, when I got my pants, my maw fetched me in and I clumb up de steps dat Marse Johnson had, to git up in his swing wid. At fus, dey had to show me jus how to hole de brush, kaise dem peacock feathers wuz so long, iffen you didn't mind your bizness, de ends of dem feathers would splash in de gravy er sumpin nother, and den de Missus table be all spattered up. Some o' de Marsters would whorp de nigger chilluns fer dat carelessness, but Marse Johnson, he always good to his niggers. Mos de white fokes good to de niggers round bout whar I comes from.

"It twad'nt long for I got used to it and I nebber did splash de feathers in no rations. But iffen I got used to it, I took to agoin to sleep up thar. Marse Johnson, he would jus git up and wake me up. All de white fokes at de table joke me so bout bein' so lazy, I soon stop dat foolishness. My maw, she roll her eyes at me when I come down atter de marster had to wake me up. Dat change like ever thing else. When I got bigger, I got to be house boy. Dey took down de swing and got a little gal to stand jus 'hind de Missus' chair and fan dem flies. De Missus low to Marse Johnson dat de style done change when he want to know how come she took de swing down. So dat is de way it is now wid de wimmen, dey changes de whole house wid de style; but I tells my chilluns, ain't no days like de ole days when I wuz a shaver.

"Atter de war, I come up to Shelton and got to de 'P' Hamilton place. I wuz grown den. I seed a young girl dar what dey called 'Evvie'. Her paw, he had b'longed to de Chicks, so dats who she wuz, Evvie Chick. Dar she sets in dat room by de fire. Now us got 'leven chilluns. Dey is scattered all about. Dey is good to us in our ole age. Us riz 'em to obey de Lawd and mine us. Dats all dey knows, and iffen fokes would do dat now, dey wouldn't have no sassy chilluns like I sees here in Carlisle.

"Evvie, what year wuz it we got married? Yes, dat's right. It wuz de year of de 'shake'. Is you heerd bout de 'shake'? Come out here Evvie and les tell him dat, kaise dese young fokes doan know nothin'. It wuz dark, and we wuz eatin' supper, when sumpin started to makin' de dishes fall out'n de cupboard. At fus we thought it wuz somebody a jumpin' up and down on de flo. Den we knowed dat it wuz sumpin else er makin' dem dishes fall out o' de cupboard. At fus we thought it wuz Judgment day, kaise ev'ry thing started fallin' worser and worser. De dishes fell so fast you couldn't pick'em up. Some of us went down to de spring. De white fokes, dey come along wid us and dey make us fetch things from de big house, like fine china dat de Missus didn't want to git broke up. She tole us dat it wuz er earthquake and it wasn't no day o' Judgment. Anyway, we lowed de white fokes might be wrong, so us niggers started to a prayin', and den all de niggers on de plantation dat heerd us, well de come along and jined wid us in de prayin' and singin'. Us wuz all a shakin' mos as bad as de earth wuz, kaise dat wuz a awful time dat we libbed through fer bout twenty minutes—de white fokes lowed it lasted only ten, but I ain't sho about dat. When we got back to de big house, de cupboard in de kitchen had done fell plum' down. In de nigger houses, de chimneys mos all fell in, and de chicken houses ev'rywhar wuz shuck down. While we wuz a lookin' aroun, and de wimmen fokes, dey wuz a takin' on mightily another shake come up. Us all took fer de spring agin; dis one lasted bout long as de first one. Us prayed and sung and shouted dis time. It sho stopped de earth a shakin' and a quiverin' some, kaise dat thing went on fer a whole week; ceptin de furs two wuz de heaviest. All de other ones wuz lighter. Iffen it hadn't been fur us all a beggin' de Lawd fer to sho us his mercy, it ain't no tellin' how bad dem shakes would er been. Miss Becky Levister, you know her, she live up yander in your uncle John's house now, she wuz wid us. She wuz jus a little girl den. Her paw wuz Mr. Kelly. He died for ever you wuz born. Not long ago I seed her. She lowed to me, 'uncle Henry, do you recollect in de time o' de shake? Lacken she think I'd fergit such as dat. It wuz in de time o' de worsest things dis ole nigger is ebber seed hisself, and I is gwine on 82 now. Miss Becky, she wuz a settin' in her car wid some one drivin' her, but she ain't fergot dis ole nigger. If I is up town and Miss Becky, she ride by, she look out and lows' 'Howdy uncle Henry', and I allus looks up and raises my hat. I likes mannerable white fokes, mysef, and den, I likes mannerable niggers fer as dat goes. Some of dese fokes, now both white—I hates to say it—and niggers, dey trys to act like dey ain't got no sense er sumpin'. But you know one thing I knos real fokes when I sees dem and dey can't fool me."

Aunt Evvie tells the following story about her father, Rufus Chick. The story is known by all of the reliable white folks of the surrounding neighborhood also: "My paw, Rufus Chick, lived on the Union side of Broad River, the latter days of his life. Maj. James B. Steadman had goats over on Henderson Island that my paw used to care for. He went over to the Island in a batteau. One afternoon, he and four other darkies were going over there when the batteau turned over. The four other men caught to a willow bush and were rescued. My paw could not swim, and he got drowned. For three weeks they searched for his body, but they never did find it. Some years after, a body of a darky was found at the mouth of the canal, down near Columbia. The body was perfectly petrified. This was my paw's body. The canal authorities sent the body to a museum in Detroit. It was January 11, 1877 when my father got drowned.

"When I wuz a young fellow I used to race wid de horses. I wuz de swifes runner on de plantation. A nigger, Peter Feaster, had a white horse of his own, and de white fokes used to bet amongst de selves as much as $20.00 dat I could outrun dat horse. De way us did, wuz to run a hundred yards one way, turn around and den run back de hundred yards. Somebody would hold de horse, and another man would pop de whip fer us to start. Quick as de whip popped, I wuz off. I would git sometimes ten feet ahead of de horse 'fore dey could git him started. Den when I had got de hundred yards, I could turn around quicker dan de horse would, and I would git a little mo' ahead. Corse wid dat, you had to be a swift man on yer feets to stay head of a fas horse. Peter used to git so mad when I would beat his ole horse, and den all de niggers would laf at him kaise de white fokes give me some of de bettin money. Sometimes dey would bet only $10.00, sometimes, $15 or $20. Den I would race wid de white fokes horses too. Dey nebber got mad when I come out ahead. After I got through, my legs used to jus shake like a leaf. So now, I is gib plum out in dem and I tributes it to dat. Evvie, she lowed when I used to do dat after we wuz married, dat I wuz gwine to give out in my legs, and sho nuf I is."

"Uncle" Henry says that his legs have given out in the bone.

Source: Henry Coleman and his wife, Evvie, of Carlisle, S. C. Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C.



Project 1885-1 District #4 Spartanburg, S. C. May 31, 1937

FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES

"I was born about 1857 and my wife about 1859. I lived on Squire Keller's farm, near the Parr place, and after the squire died I belonged to Mrs. Elizabeth (Wright) Keller. My mother died when I was a boy and my father was bought and carried to Alabama. My father was Gilliam Coleman and my mother, Emoline Wright. My master and mistress was good to me. The old Squire was as fine a man as ever lived on earth. He took me in his home and took care of me. After the war the mistress stayed on the place and worked the slaves right on, giving them wages or shares.

"The slaves were not whipped much; I 'member one man was whipped pretty bad on Maj. Kinard's place. He had a colored man to do whipping for him—his name was Eph. There was no whiskey on the place, never made any. Us did cooking in the kitchen wid wide fireplaces.

"When the Yankees came through at the end of the war, they took all the stock we had. The mistress had a fine horse, its tail touching the ground, and we all cried when it was taken; but we got it back, as some men went after it.

"I married in 1874 to Ellen T. Williams. She belonged to Bill Reagan. After I married I worked in the railroad shops at "Helena", and sometimes I fired the engine on the road, for about eight years. Then I went into the ministry. I was called by the Spirit of the Lord, gradually, and I preached 51 years. I have been superannuated two years.

"I have one child, a son, who is in the pullman service at Washington, D. C.

"I owned my little house and several acres and am still living on it."

Source: Rev. Tuff Coleman and wife (80 and 78), Newberry, S. C. Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, Newberry, S. C.



Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S. C. Date, May 27, 1937 No. Words —— Reduced from —— words Rewritten by ——

MOM LOUISA COLLIER Ex-Slave, 78 years.

"I born en raise up dere in Colonel Durant yard en I in my 78th year now. Dat seem lak I ole, don' it? Coase Colonel Durant hab plenty udder colored peoples 'sides us, but dey ne'er lib dere in de yard lak we. Dey lib up in de quarters on de plantation. My pappy name Ben Thompson en he hadder stay dere close to de big house cause he wus de Colonel driver. De Colonel hab uh big ole carriage wha' to ride in den. It hab uh little seat in de front fa my pappy to set in en den it hab two seat 'hind de driver whey de Colonel en he family is ride. I kin see dat carriage jes uz good right now dat my white folks hab to carry em whey dey is wanna go."

"Den my mammy come from de udder side uv Pee Dee en she name, Lidia Bass. She was de servant 'round de yard dere en dat count fa we to ne'er stay in de quarters wid de udder colored peoples 'fore freedom declare. I ne'er hadder do no work long uz I lib dere in de yard cause I ain' been but five year ole when freedom declare. My grandmammy lib right dere close us en Colonel Durant hab she jes to look a'ter aw de plantation chillun when dey parents wuz workin'. Aw uv de plantation peoples 'ud take dey chillun dere fa my grandmammy to nu'se."

"I 'member one day dere come uh crowd uv peoples dere dat dey tell us chillun wuz de Yankees. Dey come right dere t'rough de Colonel yard en when I see em, I wuz 'fraid uv em. I run en hide under my grandmammy bed. Don' know wha' dey say cause I ain' ge' close 'nough to hear nuthin wha' dey talk 'bout. De white folks hadder herry (hurry) en put t'ings in pots en bury em or hide em somewhey when dey hear dat de Yankees wus comin' cause dey scare dem Yankees might take dey t'ings lak dey is carry 'way udder folks t'ings. I hear em say dey ne'er take nuthin from de Colonel but some uv he wood."

"My white folks was well-off peoples en dey ain' ne'er use no harsh treatment on dey plantation peoples. De Colonel own aw dis land 'bout here den en he see dat he overseer on de plantation provide plenty uv eve't'ing us need aw de time. I hear tell 'bout some uv de white folks 'ud beat dey colored peoples mos' to death, but I ain' ne'er see none uv dat no whey. I is 'member when dey'ud sell some uv de colored peoples way offen to annuder plantation somewhey. Jes been bid em offen jes lak dey wuz cattle. Some uv de time dey'ud sell uh man wife 'way en den he hadder ge' annuder wife."

"A'ter freedom declare, we ne'er lib dere at de big house no more. Move in de colored settlement en den we ain' eat at de big house no more neither. Dey le' us hab uh garden uv we own den en raise us own chicken en aw dat. I 'member de Colonel gi'e us so mucha t'ing eve'y week en it hadder las' us from one Saturday to de next. My mammy 'ud go to de Colonel barn eve'y week en ge' she portion uv meal en meat. Dat de way dey pay de hand fa dey work den. Ne'er gi'e em no money den."

"Peoples wha' lib on Colonel Durant plantation ain' know nuthin but to lib on de fat uv de land. Dey hab plenty cows den en dey gi'e us plenty uv milk eve'y day. I 'member we chillun use'er take we tin cup en go up to de big house en ge' us milk to drink en den some uv de cows 'ud be so gentle lak dat we chillun is follow em right down side de path. Den when dere ne'er wuz nobody lak de Colonel overseer 'bout to see us, we is ketch de cow en ge' some more milk. I al'ays'ud lub to drink me milk dat way. We is eat plenty green peas en 'tatoes en fish in dem days too en dey is use 'tatoe pie right smart den."

"Aw de colored peoples on Colonel Durant plantation hab good bed wha' to sleep on en good clothes to put on dey back. Coase we ne'er hab no bought fu'niture in dem days, but we hab bedstead wha' dey make right dere en benches en some uv de time dey is make wha' dey call 'way back chair. Den we is make us own bed outer hay cause de white folks ne'er spare de colored peoples no cotton den. Hadder cut de hay in de fall uv de year en dry it jes lak dey dries it fa to feed de cattle on. Den dey hadder take sack en sew em up togedder en put de hay in dese. Dey sleep right smart in dem days. Don' mucha people sleep on straw bed dese day en time en dey don' dress lak dey use'er neither. I 'member de long dress dey is wear den. Hadder hold em up when dey walk so dey won' tetch de floor 'bout em. Den some uv dem is wear wha' dey call leggens. Dey'ud gather em 'round de knee en le' em show 'bout de ankle. Dey wuz pretty, dat dey wuz. De white folks'ud make de plantation clothes outer calico en jeanes cloth en dat time. De jeanes cloth be wha' dey make de boy clothes outer. Dey is weave aw dey cloth right dere on de plantation en den dey use'er dye de thread en weave aw sorta check outer de different color thread. Wha' dey make de dye outer? Dey ge' bark outer de woods en boil de color outer it en den dey boil de thread in dat. Dat how dey is make dey dye. Ne'er see de peoples hab no hat lak dey hab now neither. Aw de colored peoples wear wha' dey call shuck hat den cause dey been make outer shuck. Dat aw de kinder hat we is hab."

"Peoples use'er ge' aw kinder useful t'ing outer de woods in dem days 'way back dere. Ne'er hadder buy no me'icine tall den. Ain' ne'er been no better cough cure no whey den de one my ole mammy use'er make fa we chillun. She larnt 'bout how it made when she stay 'round de Missus en dat how come I know wha' in it. Jes hadder go in de woods en ge' some cherry, call dat wild cherry, en cut some uv de wild cherry bark fust (first) t'ing. A'ter dat yuh hadder find some uv dese long-leaf pine en ge' de bud outer dat. Den yuh hadder go to whey dere some sweet gum grow en ge' de top outer dem en ge' some mullen to put wid it. Ain' ne'er no cough stand aw dat mix up togedder in no day en time. Dey gi'e dat to de peoples fa dat t'ing wha' dey use'er call de grip cough. Den dey use'er make uh t'ing dat dey call "bone set" tea. I forge' how dey make it but dey gi'e it to de peoples when dey hab de fevers. It been so bitter dat it'ud lift yuh up 'fore yuh is ge' it aw down de t'roat. Ain' see no fever me'icine lak dat nowadays."

"Yas'um, I 'members when dey hab plenty uv dem cornshucking to one annuder barn. De peoples'ud come from aw de plantation 'bout dere. Dem corn-shuckings wuz big times, dat dey wuz. Gi'e eve'body aw de "hopping-john" dey kin eat. Jes cook it aw in uh big pot dere in de yard to de big house. Ain' nuthin ne'er eat no better den dat "hopping-john" is eat."

"Den de peoples use'er come from aw de plantation 'bout en hab big dancing dere. Dat when I lub to be 'bout. Dey hab uh big fire build up outer in de yard en dat wha' dey dance 'round 'bout. Call dat uh torch fire. Dey'ud hab fiddle en dey dance wha' dey call de reel dance den. I 'member I use'er lub to watch dey feet when dat fiddle 'ud ge' to playing. I jes crawl right down on me knees dere whey I'ud see dey feet jes uh going."

"I ne'er hab mucha schooling 'fore freedom declare cause I been raise up on de plantation. Dis child (her daughter) pappy wuz de house boy to de big house en he ge' more schooling den I is. De Missus larnt he how to read en write she self. A'ter freedom declare, I go to school to uh white man up dere to de ole Academy en den I is go to annuder school down dere to uh blacksmith shop. I go to uh white man dere too. Ne'er hab no colored teacher den cause dey ain' hab 'nough schooling den. Dese chillun don' know nuthin 'bout dem times. I tell dese chillun I don' know wha' dey wanna run 'bout so mucha cause dere plenty t'ing to see dat pass right dere by us house eve'y day. I t'ink dis uh better day en time to lib en cause dis uh brighter day now dat we hab."

Source: Mom Louisa Collier, age 78, colored, Marion, S. C Personal interview, May 1937.



Project #1655 W. W. Dixon Winnsboro, S. C.

JOHN COLLINS EX-SLAVE, 85 YEARS OLD.

John Collins lives in a two-room frame cottage by the side of US 21, just one mile north of the town of Winnsboro, S. C. on the right side of the highway and a few hundred yards from the intersection of US 21 and US 22. The house is owned by Mr. John Ameen. His son, John, who lives with him, is a farm hand in the employ of Mr. John Ameen, and is his father's only support.

"They tells me dat I was born in Chester County, just above de line dat separates Chester and Fairfield Counties. You know where de 'dark corner' is, don't you? Well, part is in Fairfield County and part is in Chester County. In dat corner I first see de light of day; 'twas on de 29th of February, 1852. Though I is eighty-five years old, I's had only twenty-one birthdays. I ketches a heap of folks wid dat riddle. They ask me: 'How old is you Uncle John?' I say: 'I is had twenty-one birthdays and won't have another till 1940. Now figure it out yourself, sir, if you is so curious to know my age!' One time a smart aleck, jack-leg, Methodist preacher, of my race, come to my house and figured all day on dat riddle and never did git de correct answer. He scribbled on all de paper in de house and on de back of de calendar leaves. I sure laughed at dat preacher. I fears he lacked some of dat good old time 'ligion, de way he sweated and scribbled and fussed.

"My daddy was name Steve Chandler. My mammy was called Nancy. I don't know whether they was married or not. My daddy was sent to Virginia, while de war was gwine on, to build forts and breastworks around Petersburg, so they say, and him never come back. I 'members him well. He was a tall black man, over six feet high, wid broad shoulders. My son, John, look just lak him. Daddy used to play wid mammy just lak she was a child. He'd ketch her under de armpits and jump her up mighty nigh to de rafters in de little house us lived in.

"My mammy and me was slaves of old Marse Nick Collins. His wife, my mistress, was name Miss Nannie. Miss Nannie was just an angel; all de slaves loved her. But marster was hard to please, and he used de lash often. De slaves whisper his name in fear and terror to de chillun, when they want to hush them up. They just say to a crying child: 'Shet up or old Nick will ketch you!' Dat child sniffle but shet up pretty quick.

"Marster didn't have many slaves. Best I 'member, dere was about twenty men, women, and chillun to work in de field and five house slaves. Dere was no good feelin's 'twixt field hands and house servants. De house servants put on more airs than de white folks. They got better things to eat, too, than de field hands and wore better and cleaner clothes.

"My marster had one son, Wyatt, and two daughters, Nannie and Elizabeth. They was all right, so far as I 'member, but being a field hand's child, off from de big house, I never got to play wid them any.

"My white folks never cared much about de slaves having 'ligion. They went to de Universalist Church down at Feasterville. They said everybody was going to be saved, dat dere was no hell. So they thought it was just a waste of time telling niggers about de hereafter.

"In them days, way up dere in de 'dark corner', de white folks didn't had no schools and couldn't read or write. How could they teach deir slaves if they had wanted to?

"De Yankees never come into de 'dark corner'. It was in 1867, dat us found out us was free; then we all left. I come down to Feasterville and stayed wid Mr. Jonathan Coleman. From dere, I went to Chester. While I was living dere, I married Maggie Nesbit. Us had five chillun; they all dead, 'cept John. My wife died two months ago.

"I is tired now, and I is sad. I's thinking about Maggie and de days dat are gone. Them memories flood over me, and I just want to lay down. Maybe I'll see you sometime again. I feel sure I'll see Maggie befo' many months and us'll see de sunrise, down here, from de far hebben above. Good day. Glad you come to see me, sir!"



Project 1885-1 Folklore Spartanburg, Dist. 4 Nov. 29, 1937 Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"Time is but time, and how is I to know when I was born when everybody knows dat dey never had no calendars when I come here. Few it was dat ever seed even a Lady's Birthday Almanac. I is 75 years old. I was dat last January on de 13th day [HW: 186]. I was born in old Union County about 4 miles south of Gaffney.

"Marse Mike Montgomery had a place dat reached from town way yonder to Broad River whar de Ninety-nine Islands lays. Now, de way de road lays, dey counts it twelve miles from Gaffney. When I was a boy it was lots further dan dat.

"Never know'd why, but de Red Shirts whipped my pa, Tom Corry. Dey jes' come and got him out'n his house. He come back in de house. Chilluns was not give no privileges in dem days, so I never axed no questions, kaise I was fear'd. Chilluns jes' trots into your business dese days.

"My pa say he was a slave on dem Ninety-nine Islands. All I know is what he told me. Mr. Mike Montgomery built lots of boats. Dey carried from 50 to 60 bales of cotton down at one time. De cotton was carried in de fall. De Smith place jined de Montgomery place and dat run into de Nancy Corry place. I have forded de river dar lots of times. Broad River is shallow, deepest place in it back den was at de mouth of King Creek, jes' below Cherokee Falls. It ain't so broad dar.

"Pa was de boatman for Mr. Mike. De boat was big and long, and dey always started off early in de morning wid a load of cotton. Old man Dick Corry had to stand in de boat jes' behind pa. Dey had two steermen. So many rocks in de shallow water dat it kept de steermen busy dodging rooks. Dey pushed de boat off de rocks wid long poles. Dey had to work away from de rocks. Sometimes dey had to get out in de water and roll some rocks from dere path if de water wasn't cold.

"Wharever night caught dem, dar dey stopped and pitched a camp. Dey fished and killed wild ducks or birds dat was plentiful den, and cooked dem along wid bread and other things fetched from home. On de way from Columbia dey had lots of store-bought things to eat. Store-bought things was a treat den. Now ducks and things is a treat. Times sho changes fast.

"Spring was took up wid farming. Every man, white and black, had a family back in dem days. Dat dey did, rich or poor, white or black, all raised families. Men farmed and hauled manure and cleaned up de plantation lots and fields and grubbed in de spring. Women cooked and washed and ironed and spun and kept house and made everybody in de house clothes, and made all de bed clothes. Dey stayed home all of de time. Men got through work and set down at home wid deir wives and never run around. Now all goes. Dat's all dey does dese days is go.

"We had plenty of bread and milk and we raised hogs and killed all kinds of wild things like turkey, ducks and birds, and caught fish. Men had guns dat dey used every day, and dey hit things, too. Folks kept in practice, wid guns and had shooting matches.

"After dey stopped boating, wagons come in. Den things begin to change. Dey still is changing. Wagons went to Spartanburg to take cotten. Folks never went to Columbia no more. Spartanburg begin to grow and it sho still is at it."

Source: Bouregard Corry (N, 75), Rt. 2, Gaffney, S. C. Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. (11/22/37).



Project #1655 W. W. Dixon Winnsboro, S. C.

CALEB CRAIG EX SLAVE 86 YEARS OLD.

Caleb Craig lives in a four-room house, with a hall, eight feet wide, through the center and a fireplace in each room. He lives with his grandson, who looks after him.

"Who I is? I goes by de name of C. C. All de colored people speaks of me in dat way. C. C. dis and C. C. dat. I don't 'ject but my real name is Caleb Craig. Named after one of de three spies dat de Bible tell 'bout. Him give de favorite report and, 'cause him did, God feed him and clothe him all de balance of him life and take him into de land of Canaan, where him and Joshua have a long happy life. I seen a picture in a book, one time, of Joshua and Caleb, one end of a pole on Joshua's shoulder and one end on Caleb's shoulder, wid big bunches of grapes a hangin' from dat pole. Canaan must to been a powerful fertile land to make grapes lak dat.

"Would you believe dat I can't write? Some of them adultery (adult) teachers come to my house but it seem a pack of foolishness; too much trouble. I just rather put my money in de bank, go dere when I want it, set dat C. C. to de check, and git what I want.

"When I born? Christmas Eve, 1851. Where 'bouts? Blackstock, S. C. Don't none of us know de day or de place us was born. Us have to take dat on faith. You know where de old Bell house, 'bove Blackstock, is? Dere's where I come to light. De old stagecoach, 'tween Charlotte and Columbia, changed hosses and stop dere but de railroad busted all dat up.

"My mammy name Martha. Marse John soon give us chillun to his daughter, Miss Marion. In dat way us separated from our mammy. Her was a mighty pretty colored woman and I has visions and dreams of her, in my sleep, sometime yet. My sisters would call me Cale but her never did. Her say Caleb every time and all de time. Marse John give her to another daughter of his, Miss Nancy, de widow Thompson then, but afterwards her marry a hoss drover from Kentucky, Marse Jim Jones. I can tell you funny things 'bout him if I has time befo' I go.

"Us chillun was carried down to de June place where Miss Marion and her husband, Marse Ed P. Mobley live. It was a fine house, built by old Dr. June. Marse Ed bought de plantation, for de sake of de fine house, where he want to take Miss Marion as a bride.

"Dere was a whole passle of niggers in de quarter, three hundred or maybe more. I didn't count them, 'cause I couldn't count up to a hundred but I can now. Ten, ten, double ten, forty-five, and fifteen. Don't dat make a hundred? Sho' it do.

"Clothes? Too many dere, for to clothe them much. I b'long to de shirt-tail brigade 'til I got to be a man. Why I use to plow in my shirt-tail! Well, it wasn't so bad in de summer time and us had big fires in de winter time, inside and outside de house, whenever us was working'. 'Til I was twelve years old I done nothin' but play.

"Money? Hell no! Excuse me, but de question so surprise me, I's caught off my guard. Food? Us got farm produce, sich as corn-meal, bacon, 'lasses, bread, milk, collards, turnips, 'tators, peanuts, and punkins.

"De overseer was Mr. Brown. My marster was much talked 'bout for workin' us on Sunday. He was a lordly old fellow, as I 'member, but dere was never anything lak plowin' on Sunday, though I do 'member de hands workin' 'bout de hay and de fodder.

"Marse Ed, a great fox hunter, kep' a pack of hounds. Sometime they run deer. Old Uncle Phil was in charge of de pack. Him had a special dog for to tree 'possums in de nighttime and squirrels in de daytime. Believe me, I lak 'possum de best. You lak 'possum? Well, I'll git my grandson to hunt you one dis comin' October.

"Marse Ed didn't 'low patarollers (patrollers) on de June place. He tell them to stay off and they knowed to stay off.

"Slave drovers often come to de June place, just lak mule drovers and hog drovers. They buy, sell, and swap niggers, just lak they buy, sell, and swap hosses, mules, and hogs.

"Us had preachin' in de quarters on Sunday. Uncle Dick, a old man, was de preacher. De funerals was simple and held at night. De grave was dug dat day.

"A man dat had a wife off de place, see little peace or happiness. He could see de wife once a week, on a pass, and jealousy kep' him 'stracted de balance of de week, if he love her very much.

"I marry Martha Pickett. Why I marry her? Well, I see so many knock-knee, box-ankle, spindly-shank, flat nose chillun, when I was growin' up, dat when I come to choose de filly to fold my colts, I picks one dat them mistakes wasn't so lakly to appear in. Us have five chillun. Lucy marry a Sims and live in Winnsboro, S. C. Maggie marry a Wallace and live in Charlotte, N. C. Mary marry a Brice and live in Chester, S. C. Jane not married; she live wid her sister, Mag, in Charlotte. John lives 'bove White Oak and farms on a large place I own, not a scratch of pen against it by de government or a bank.

"I live on 27 acres, just out de town of Winnsboro. I expects no pension. My grandchillun come and go, back'ards and fo'ards, and tell me 'bout cities, and high falutin' things goin' on here and dere. I looks them over sometime for to see if I didn't do sumpin' for deir figures, in s'lectin' and marryin' Martha, dat's more important to them than de land I'll leave them when I die. When Martha die, I marry a widow name Eliza but us never generate any chillun. Her dead. Not 'nough spark in me to undertake de third trip, though I still is a subject of 'tentions.

"What 'bout Marse Ed and Marse Jim Jones? Well, you see, Marse Jim was close wid his money. Marse Ed was a spender. I 'tend Marse Ed to a chicken main once. Marse Jim rode up just as Marse Ed was puttin' up $300.00 on a pile brass wing rooster, 'ginst a black breasted red war hoss rooster, dat de McCarleys was backin'. Marse Ed lost de bet. But him never told Marse Jim, dat befo' he rode up, him had won $500.00 from them same men. After de main was over, Marse Jim, bein' brudder-in-law to Marse Ed, rode home to dinner wid him. After dinner they was smokin' deir cigars befo' de parlor fire dat I was 'viving up. Marse Jim lecture Marse Ed for throwin' 'way money. Marse Ed stretch out his long legs and say: 'Mr. Jones does you 'member dat day us 'tended de circus in Chester and as us got to de top of de hill a blind begger held out his cup to us and you put in a quarter?' Mr. Jones say he does 'member dat. Marse Ed went on: 'Well, Mr. Jones, I had a dream last night. I dream us comin' through de Cumberland Mountains wid a drove of mules from Kentucky. You was ridin' a piebald hoss, de same one you rode into South Carolina de fust time you come here. You had on a faded, frazzled grey shawl, 'bout lak de one you had on today. Us was in front, de outriders behind, when us got to de gap in de mountains. De drove stampede just as us git in de gap. Us was both kilt. You got to heaven befo' I did. When I did git dere, you was befo' de High Court. They examine you and turn over de leaves of a big book and find very little dere to your credit. At last they say, I think it was de 'Postle Peter dat ask de question. Him say: 'Everything is recorded in dis book. Us can find nothin'. Do you happen to 'member anything you did to your credit down dere on earth?' Then you stand up wid dat old shawl 'round your shoulders and say: 'Aha! I do 'member one thing. One day I was in Chester and put a quarter of a dollar in a blind man's tin cup.' De 'postle then tell de recording angel to see if him could find dat deed. Him turn over de leaves 'til him found it on de page. Then de twelve 'postles retire and 'liberate on your case. They come back and de judge pass sentence which was: 'The sentence of de High Court is, that in view of your great love of money, James Jones, it is de sentence of de court dat you be given back de quarter you give de blind beggar in Chester and dat you, James Jones, be sent immediate on your way to hell.' Then they both laugh over dat and Marse Jim got real happy when he find out Marse Ed quit de main wid $200.00 to de good."

Address: Caleb Craig, Winnsboro, S. C.

That part of the suburb of Winnsboro called "Mexico". Just east of the Southern Railway Company and north of Winnsboro Cotton Mills.



Project #1655 W. W. Dixon Winnsboro, S. C.

DINAH CUNNINGHAM EX-SLAVE 84 YEARS OLD.

Dinah Cunningham lives about seven miles west of Ridgeway, S. C., on the Hood place about a hundred yards off the old Devil's Race Track road. She lives with her daughter and son-in-law and their three children. They live in a two-room frame house with a shed room annex. In the annex, Dinah and the smaller children sleep. They are kind to Dinah, who is feeble and can do no farm labor. Dinah is as helpless about the home as a child.

"I's come up here 'bout seventeen miles for to let you see me. 'Spect you don't see much in dis old worn out critter. Now does you?

"Well, here I is, and I wants you white folks to help me, 'cause I's served you from generation to generation. Wid de help of de Lord and trustin' in Jesus de Lamb, I knows I's goin' to git help. When is they gwine to start payin' off? I's heard them say how you got to be on de roll and signed up befo' de fourth day of July. So here I is!

"I was born de fust day of March, 1853, out from Ridgeway, sunrise side. My marster was David Robertson and my mistress name Sally. Her was mighty pretty. Her was a Rembert befo' she marry Marse Dave. They had one child dat I was de nurse for and her name was Luray. Her marry Marse Charlie Ray.

"De onliest whippin' I got was 'bout dat child. I had de baby on de floor on a pallet and rolled over on it. Her make a squeal like she was much hurt and mistress come in a hurry. After de baby git quiet and go to sleep, she said: 'Dinah, I hates to whip you but de Good Book say, spare de rod and spoil de child.' Wid dat, she goes out and git a little switch off de crepe myrtle bush and come back and took my left hand in her left hand, dat had all de rings on de fingers, and us had it 'round dat room. I make a big holler as she 'plied dat switch on dese very legs dat you sees here today. They is big and fat now and can scarcely wobble me 'long but then, they was lean and hard and could carry me 'long like a deer in de woods.

"My white folks was no poor white trash, I tells you! Good marse and good mistress had heap of slaves and overseers. One overseer name Mr. Welch. De buckra folks dat come visitin', use to laugh at de way he put grease on his hair, and de way he scraped one foot back'ards on de ground or de floor when they shake hands wid him. He never say much, but just set in his chair, pull de sides of his mustache and say 'Yas sah' and 'No sah', to them dat speak to him. He speak a whole lot though, when he git down in de quarters where de slaves live. He wasn't like de same man then. He woke everybody at daylight, and sometime he help de patrollers to search de houses for to ketch any slaves widout a pass.

"Us had all us need to eat, sich as was good for us. Marse like to see his slaves fat and shiny, just like he want to see de carriage hosses slick and spanky, when he ride out to preachin' at Ainswell and sometime de Episcopal church at Ridgeway. My young mistress jine de Baptist church after she marry, and I 'member her havin' a time wid sewin' buckshots in de hem of de dress her was baptized in. They done dat, you knows, to keep de skirt from floatin' on top of de water. You never have thought 'bout dat? Well, just ask any Baptist preacher and he'll tell you dat it has been done.

"When de Yankees come, they went through de big house, tore up everything, ripped open de feather beds and cotton mattresses, searchin' for money and jewels. Then they had us slaves ketch de chickens, flung open de smoke-house, take de meat, meal, flour, and put them in a four-hoss wagon and went on down to Longtown. Them was scandlous days, boss! I hope never to see de likes of them times wid dese old eyes again.

"I 'member 'bout de Ku Klux just one time, though I heard 'bout them a heap. They come on de Robertson place all dressed up wid sheets and false faces, ridin' on hossback, huntin' for a republican and a radical nigger, (I forgits his name, been so long) but they didn't find him. They sho' was a sight and liked to scared us all to death.

"Was I ever married? Sure I was, I marry Mack Cunningham. Us was jined in de holy wedlock by Marse Alex Matherson, a white trial justice. Ask him and he'll tell you when it was. I's got some chillun by dat husband. There is William at Charlotte, and Rosy at Ridgeway. Rosy, her marry a man name Peay. Then there is Millie Gover at Rembert and Lila Brown at Smallwood, de station where Marse Charlie Ray and my Mistress Luray was killed by a railroad train runnin' into de automobile they was in. Then there is my daughter, Delia Belton, at Ridgeway, and John L., a son livin' and farmin' at Cedar Creek.

"I b'longs to de Mt. Olivet Church dat you knows 'bout. White folks comes there sometime for to hear de singin'. They say us can carry de song better than white folks. Well, maybe us does love de Lord just a little bit better, and what's in our mouth is in our hearts.

"What you gwine to charge for all dat writin' you got down there? If you writes much more maybe I ain't got enough money to pay for it. I got a dollar here but if it's more than dat you'll have to wait on me for de balance. You say it don't cost nothin'? Well, glory hallelujah for dat! I'll just go 'round to de colored restaurant and enjoy myself wid beef stew, rice, new potatoes, macaroni and a cup of coffee. I wonder what they'll have for dessert. 'Spect it'll be some kind of puddin'. But I'd be more pleased if you would take half of this dollar and go get you a good dinner, too. I would like to please you dat much!

"May de good Lord be a watch 'tween me and you 'til us meets again."



Project #-1655 Phoebe Faucette Hampton County

FOLKLORE

LUCY DANIELS

"Aunt Lucy is a tall well-built old woman who looks younger than her years. She delights in talking, and was glad to tell what she knew about the olden times.

"I don't know how old I been when de war end. If I been in de world I wasn't old enough to pick up nuthin'. Miss Lulie Bowers say I'll be 78 first of March coming. Miss Lulie was my 'young Missus'. I love Miss Lulie, and I thinks she thinks a heap of me—my young Missus, and her father, my young Massa. He good to his darkies. He was a rich man—even after de war. Miss Lulie say she was de only young lady that could go off to college after de war. Miss Lulie help me powerful. She give me shoes, and beddin. She and me grow up together. She is in de bed sick now. I jes' come from dere. Had de doctor to see her.

"I hear 'em tell 'bout how de soldiers burn 'em out. My mother would tell me. My father had gone off to fight. Say dey'd tie de hams an' de things on de saddle—and burn de expensive houses. White folks jes' had to hide everything. She talk 'bout all de men was gone and de women had to pile up, four or five in one house to protect deyselves. My father say when dey been 'rough-few-gieing' (refugeeing) de Beaufort Bridge been burn down. He say he been so hungry one time he stop to a old lady's house and ask her for something to eat. She say she didn't have nothing but some dry bread. He take de bread, but he say it been so hard, he threw some of it away. But he say he so hungry he wish he hadn't throw it away. It was a hard time. Used to have to weave cloth and dye thread. Had a loom to weave on and a spinning wheel. My grandmother say de Yankees come to her house and take everything, but she say one little pullet run out in de weeds and hide and de soldiers couldn't find her. She say dat pullet lay and hatch and dat how dey got start off again. Dey scramble and dey raise us some how or another.

"I had nine chillun for my first husband and one for my second husband. I raise 'em all 'till dey grown; but all dead now 'cept three. My husband died last year, I had to work for my chillun. But my second husband, he help me wid 'em.

"Dat's all I kin tell you, Miss. I don't remember so much. Chillun in those days weren't so bright as dey is now, you know."

Source: Lucy Daniels, 78 ex-slave, Luray, S. C.



Project 1885-1 Folklore Spartanburg, Dist. 4 Nov. 30, 1937 Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES (John Davenport)

"My family belonged in slavery time to old Marse Pierce Lake who was de Clerk of Court in town, or de Probate Judge. He lived at de old Campbell Havird House and I lived dar wid him. My mother belonged to dis Lake family and she was named Martha Lake. I don't know who my father was, but I was told he was a white man.

"We slaves had good enough quarters to live in, and dey give us plenty to eat. De house I live in now is fair, but it has a bad roof. It is my wife's chillun's place. My wife had it and left it to dem. She was Ellen Gallman, a widow when I married her. Only my blind daughter now live wid me. I was married five times and had eighteen chilluns by three wives. Each of my wives died befo' I married agin. I didn't separate from any. My mother's father lived wid Marse Lake. He and his wife come from Virginia.

"I was a boy in slavery and worked and piddled round de house. Sometimes I had to work de corn or in de garden. We had plenty to eat. As de old saying is, 'We lived at home and boarded at de same place.' We raised everything we had to eat, vegetables, hogs, cows and de like. Marster had a big garden, but he didn't let his slaves have any garden of deir own. We made all our clothes, homespun. My mother used to spin at night and work out all day; lots of niggers had to do dat.

"Marse Lake was good to his niggers, but he had to whip dem sometimes, when dey was mean. He had six or eight slaves, some on de upper place and some on de home place. We got up at daylight and worked all day, except for dinner lunch, till it was sundown.

"We never worked at night in de fields. Sometimes Marse would have corn-shuckings and de neighbors would come in and help catch up wid shucking de corn; den dey would have something to eat. De young folks would come, too, and help, and dey would dance and frolic.

"I didn't learn to read and write. Marse never said anything about it. My sister learned when some of de white women school teachers boarded at Marse Lake's house. De teachers learn't my sister when she was de maid of de house, and she could read and write good. Didn't have a school or church on de plantation. Atter de war, some of de niggers started a brush arbor. Befo' de war, some of us niggers had to come to town wid de white folks and go to deir church and set in de gallery.

"De patrollers was sometimes mean. If dey catch'd a nigger away from home widout a pass dey sho whipped him, but dey never got any of us. Dey come to our house once, but didn't git anybody.

"We had to work all day Saturdays, but not Sundays. Sometimes de fellows would slip off and hunt or fish a little on Sunday. Women would do washing on Saturday nights, or other nights. We had three days holiday when Christmas come, and we had plenty good things to eat, but we had to cook it ourselves. De marster would give de chillun little pieces of candy.

"Chillun had games like marbles and anti-over. Dey played anti-over by a crowd gitting on each side of de house and throwing a ball from one side to de other. Whoever got de ball would run around on de other side and hit somebody wid it; den he was out of de game. We never believed much in ghosts or spooks. I never saw any.

"Some of de folks had remedies for curing, like making hot tea from a weed called 'bone-set'. Dat weed grows wild in de woods. It was good for chills and fever. De tea is awful bitter. Little bags of asafetida was used to hang around de little chillun's necks to ward off fever or diptheria.

"We used to call de cows on de plantation like dis: 'co-winch, co-winch'. We called de mules like dis: 'co, co', and de hogs and pigs, 'pig-oo, pig-oo'. We had dogs on de place, too, to hunt wid.

"When freedom come, de marster told us we could go away or stay on. Most of us stayed on wid him. Soon atter dis, he got mad at me one day and told me to git off de place. I come to town and stayed about two weeks, piddling around to git along. I found out whar my mother was—she had been sold and sent away. She was in Saluda (Old Town). I went to her and stayed two weeks; den she come to Newberry and rented a little cabin on Beaver Dam Creek, near Silver Street.

"I remember hearing about de Yankees. When dey come through here dey camped in town to keep order and peace. I remember de Ku Klux, too, how some of 'em killed niggers. I voted in town on de Republican ticket. I am still a Republican. None of my friends held office, but I remember some of dem. Old Lee Nance was one, and he was killed by a white man.

"Since de war, de niggers have worked mostly on farms, renting and wage-hands. Some of dem have bought little places. Some moved to town and do carpenter work, and others jes' piddle around.

"Some of de dances de niggers had was, 'Jump Jim Crow'; one nigger would jump up and down while tripping and dancing in de same spot. Some times he say, 'Every time I jump, I jump Jim Crow.' We had what was called a 'Juber' game. He would dance a jig and sing, 'Juber this, Juber that, Juber killed a yellow cat'.

"I never thought much about Abraham Lincoln nor Jefferson Davis. Only seed de pictures of dem. Reckon dey was all right. Don't know nothing about Booker Washington, neither.

"I was 25 years old when I joined de church. I joined because I thought I ought to, people preaching Christ and him crucified; and I thought I ought to do right. Think everybody ought to join de church and be religious.

"What I think of de present generation is hard to say. Dey is not like de old people was. De old generation of chilluns could be depended on, but de present niggers can't be.

"No, de slaves never expected anything when de war was over, dem in de neighborhood didn't. Some say something about gitting 40 acres of land and a mule, but we never expected it. None ever got anything, not even money from de old marsters or anybody."

Source: John N. Davenport (N, 89), Newberry, S. C. RFD Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (11/3/37)



Project 1886-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 June 8, 1937 Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"I was born, March 10, 1848, on Little River in Newberry county, S. C. My master in slavery time was Gilliam Davenport. He was good to his slaves, not strict; good to his cattle, and expected his negroes to be good to them. But he was quick to resent anything from outsiders who crossed his path.

"All that part of the country was good for hunting. The deer, fox, and wild turkey have gone; though a few years ago, some men brought some foxes there and turned them loose, thinking they would breed, but they gradually disappeared. The kildees were many. That was a sign of good weather. When they flew high and around in a circle, it was a sign of high winds.

"Fishing in the rivers was much done. They fished with hooks on old-time canes. They had fish baskets, made of wooden splits, with an opening at the end like the wire baskets now used. If they were set anytime, day or night, a few hours afterwards would be enough time to catch some fish.

"An old sign was: when the youngest child sweeps up the floor, somebody was coming to see you. If a dish-rag was dropped on the floor, somebody was coming who would be hungry."

Source: Moses Davenport (89), Newberry, S. C. Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (5/10/37)



Code No. Project, 1886-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S. C. Date, July 28, 1937 No. Words —— Reduced from —— words Rewritten by ——

CHARLIE DAVIS Ex-Slave, 88 Years

"I couldn' tell how old I is only as I ask my old Massa son en he tell me dat I was born ahead of him cause he had de day put down in he family book. I had one of dem slavery bible, but I have a burnin out so many times dat it done been burn up. I belong to Mr. George Crawford people. Mr. George de one what die up here one of dem other year not far back. Dey who been my white folks."

"I can tell you a good deal bout what de people do in slavery time en how dey live den, but I can' tell you nothin bout no jump about things. My Massa didn' 'low us to study bout none of dem kind of frolickings in dat day en time."

"I gwine tell you it just like I experience it in dem days. We chillun lived well en had plenty good ration to eat all de time cause my mammy cook for she Missus dere to de big house. All she chillun lived in a one room house right dere in de white folks yard en eat in de Missus big kitchen every day. Dey give my mammy en she chillun just such things as de white folks had to eat like biscuit en cake en ham en coffee en hominy en butter en all dat kind of eatin. Didn' have no need to worry bout nothin 'tall. My Massa had a heap of other colored peoples dere besides we, but dey never live dat way. Dere been bout 80 of dem dat live up in de quarter just like you see dese people live to de sawmill dese days. Dey live mighty near like us, but didn' have no flour bread to eat en didn' get no milk en ham neither cause dey eat to dey own house. Didn' get nothin from de dairy but old clabber en dey been mighty thankful to get dat. Oh, dey had a pretty good house to live in dat was furnish wid dey own things dat dey make right dere. Den dey had a garden of dey own. My Massa give every one of he plantation family so much of land to plant for dey garden en den he give em every Saturday for dey time to tend dat garden. You see dey had to work for de white folks all de other week day en dey know when dey hear dat cow horn blow, dey had to do what de overseer say do. Never couldn' go off de place widout dey get a mit (permit) from de overseer neither else dey tore up when dey come back. No 'mam, didn' dare to have nothin no time. Didn' 'low you to go to school cause if you was to pick up a book, you get bout 100 lashes for dat. No 'mam, didn' have no church for de colored peoples in dem days. Just had some of dese big oaks pile up one on de other somewhe' in de woods on dat whe' we go to church. One of de plantation mens what had more learnin den de others was de one what do de preachin dere."

"My Massa wasn' never noways scraggeble to he colored peoples. Didn' cut em for every kind of thing, but I is see him beat my stepfather one time cause he run away en stay in de woods long time. Oh, he beat him wid a switch or a stick or anything like dat he could get hold of."

"Didn' never know nothin bout doing no hard work in us chillun days. When I was a boy, I mind de crows out de field. Oh, crows was terrible bout pickin up peoples corn in times back dere. You see if dey let de crows eat de corn up, dey had to go to de trouble of planting it all over again en dat how-come dey send we chillun in de field to mind de crows off it. We just holler after em en scare em dat way. Crows was mighty worser in dem days den dey is dis day en time."

"I sho remembers when freedom was declare cause I was bout 16 year old den. When dem Yankees talk bout comin round, my Massa take all we colored boys en all he fast horses en put em back in de woods to de canebrake to hide em from de Yankees. It been many a year since den, but I recollects dat we was settin dere lookin for de Yankees to get as any minute. Wasn' obliged to make no noise neither. Oh, we had big chunk of lightwood en cook meat en hoecake en collards right dere in de woods. Den my Massa take one of dem oldest plantation boys to de war wid him en ain' nobody never hear tell of him no more. He name Willie. O my Lord, when dey hear talk bout de Yankees comin, dey take all de pots en de kettles en hide em in holes in de fields en dey put dey silver bout some tree so dey know whe' dey bury it. Den dey hide de meat en de corn to de colored peoples house en when dey hear talk of de Yankees gwine away, dey go en get em again. Dem Yankees never destroy nothin bout dere, but dey is make my Massa give em a cart of corn en a middlin of meat. Yes'um, I look at dem Yankees wid me own eyes. Dey was all dressed up in a blue uniform en dey was just as white as you is. Oh, dey said a lot of things. Say dey was gwine free de niggers en if it hadn' been for dem, we would been slaves till yet. Coase I rather be free den a slave, but we never have so much worryations den as people have dese days. When we get out of clothes en get sick in dat day en time, we never had to do nothin but go to us Massa. Now, we have to look bout every which a way."

"My Massa ask my mother was she gwine live with him any longer after freedom was declare en she say she never have no mind to leave dere. We live on dere for one year en den we studied to get another place. I believes heap of dem white folks died just on account of us get freed. Dey never didn' want us to be free."

"I heard a 'oman say somebody had conjured her, but I don' believe in none of dat. I knows I got to die some of dese days en dat might come before me. I don' bother wid none of dat kind of thing, but I'll tell you bout what I has experience. I had two dogs dere en somebody poison em cause dey tell me somebody do dat. Oh, I know dey was poison. De police say de dog was poison. A 'oman do it dat had chillun what was afraid of my dog en dat how-come she poison it. I sho think she done it cause it just like dis, anything peoples tell me, I believes it."

"I have seen dem things peoples say is a ghost when I was stayin here to Lake View. I plant a garden side de road en one night I hear somethin en I look out en dere was a great big black thing in me garden dat was makin right for de house. I call me wife en tell her to look yonder. De thing was comin right to de house en my wife hurry en light up de lamp. I hear de peoples say if you didn' light up de lamp when you see a spirit, dat it would sho come in en run you out. I had done paid some money on de place but after I see dat thing, I didn' have no mind to want it. Had de best garden en chickens dere I ever had, but I never bother no worry bout dat. Just pick right up en leave dere to come here en I been here ever since. I knows dat been somethin come dere to scare me out dat house. Dat ain' been nothin else but a spirit. Ain' been nothin else."

Source: Charlie Davis, age 88, colored, Marion, S. C. Personal interview, July 1937.



Project #1655 Henry Grant Columbia, S. C.

CHARLIE DAVIS'S MUSINGS.

Charlie Davis, now seventy-nine years old, was a small boy when the slaves were freed. He lives alone in one room on Miller's Alley, Columbia, S. C., and is healthy and physically capable of self-support.

"I has been wonderin' what you wanted to talk to dis old nigger 'bout since I fust heard you wanted to see me. I takes it to be a honor for a white gentleman to desire to have a conversation wid me. Well, here I is, and I bet I's one of de blackest niggers you's seen for a season. Somehow, I ain't 'shame of my color a-tall. If I forgits I is dark complected, all I has to do is to look in a glass and in dere I sho' don't see no white man.

"Boss, I is kinda glad I is a black man, 'cause you knows dere ain't much expected of them nowhow and dat, by itself, takes a big and heavy burden off deir shoulders. De white folks worries too much over dis and over dat. They worries 'cause they ain't got no money and, when they gits it, they worries agin 'cause they is 'fraid somebody is gwine to steal it from them. Yes, sir, they frets and fumes 'cause they can't 'sociate wid big folks and, when they does go wid them, they is bothered 'cause they ain't got what de big folks has got.

"It ain't dat way wid most niggers. Nothin' disturbs them much, 'cept a empty stomach and a cold place to sleep in. Give them bread to eat and fire to warm by, then, hush your mouth; they is sho' safe then! De 'possum in his hollow, de squirrel in his nest, and de rabbit in his bed, is at home. So, de nigger, in a tight house wid a big hot fire, in winter, is at home, too.

"Some sort of ease and comfort is 'bout what all people, both white and black, is strivin' for in dis world. All of us laks dat somethin' called 'tentment, in one way or de other. Many white folks and some darkies thinks dat a pile of money, a fine house to live in, a 'spensive 'motorbile, fine clothes, and high 'ciety, is gwine to give them dat. But, when they has all dis, they is still huntin' de end of de rainbow a little ahead of them.

"Is de black man nervous or is he natchally scary? Well, sir, I is gwine to say yes and no to dat. A nigger gits nervous when he hears somethin' he don't understand and scared when he sees somethin' he can't make out. When he gits sho' 'nough scared, he moves right then, not tomorrow. Lak de wild animals of de woods, he ain't 'fraid of de dark, much, if he is movin' 'bout, but when he stops, no house is too tight for him, in summer or winter. If he sees a strange and curious sight at night, he don't have to ask nobody what to do, 'cause he knows dat he has foots. It is good-bye wid old clothes, bushes, and fences, when them foots gits to 'tendin' to deir business. When you hears a funny and strange noise and sees a curious and bad sight, I b'lieves you fust git nervous and then dat feelin' grows stronger fas', 'til you git scared. I knows de faster I moves, de slower I gits scared.

"From my age now, you can tell dat I was mighty little in slavery time. All I knows 'bout them terrible times is what I has heard. I come pretty close to them ticklish times, but I can't help from thinkin', even now, dat I missed a 'sperience in slavery time dat would be doin' me good to dis very day. Dere ain't no doubt dat many a slave learnt good lessons dat showed them how to work and stay out of de jail or poorhouse, dat's worth a little.

"I has heard my mammy say dat she b'long to de Wyricks dat has a big plantation in de northwestern part of Fairfield County and dat my daddy b'long to de Graddicks in de northern part of Richland County. Dese two plantations was just across de road from each other. Mammy said dat de patrollers was as thick as flies 'round dese plantations all de time, and my daddy sho' had to slip 'round to see mammy. Sometime they would ketch him and whip him good, pass or no pass.

"De patrollers was nothin' but poor white trash, mammy say, and if they didn't whip some slaves, every now and then, they would lose deir jobs. My mammy and daddy got married after freedom, 'cause they didn't git de time for a weddin' befo'. They called deirselves man and wife a long time befo' they was really married, and dat is de reason dat I's as old as I is now. I reckon they was right, in de fust place, 'cause they never did want nobody else 'cept each other, nohow. Here I is, I has been married one time and at no time has I ever seen another woman I wanted. My wife has been dead a long time and I is still livin' alone. All our chillun is scattered 'bout over de world somewhere, and dat somewhere is where I don't know. They ain't no help to me now, in my old age. But, I reckon they ain't to be blamed much, 'cause they is young, full of warm blood and thinks in a different way from de older ones. Then, too, I 'spects they thinks deir old daddy would kinda be in deir way, and de best thing for them to do is to stay away from me. I don't know, it just seems lak de way of de world.

"I come from de Guinea family of niggers, and dat is de reason I is so small and black. De Guinea nigger don't know nothin', 'cept hard work, and, for him to be so he can keep up wid bigger folks, he has to turn 'round fas'. You knows dat if you puts a little hog in a pen wid big hogs, de little one has got to move 'bout in a hurry amongst de big ones, to git 'nough to eat, and de same way wid a little person, they sho' has to hustle for what they gits. I has no head for learnin' what's in books, and if I had, dere wasn't no schools for to learn dat head, when I come 'long. I has made some money, 'long through de years, but never knowed how to save it. Now I is so old dat I can't make much, and so, I just live somehow, dat's all.

"President Roosevelt has done his best to help de old, poor, and forgotten ones of us all, every color and race, while dis 'pression has been gwine on in dis country. Is us gwine to git dis new pension what is gwine 'bout, or is dat other somebody gwine to think he needs it worser than us does? Dat's de question what 'sorbs my mind most, dese days. I don't need much, and maybe I don't deserve nothin', but I sho' would lak to git hold of dat little dat's 'tended for me by dat man up yonder in Washington. (Roosevelt)

"Does I b'lieve in spirits and hants? My answer to dat question is dis: 'Must my tremblin' spirit fly into a world unknown?' When a person goes 'way from dis world, dere they is, and dere they is gwine to stay, 'til judgment."



Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S. C. Date, January 21, 1938 No. Words —— Reduced from —— words Rewritten by ——

HEDDIE DAVIS Ex-Slave, 72 Years

Lizzie Davis sends word for Heddie Davis to come over to her little shack to join in the conversation about old times and Heddie enters the room with these words: "Sis, I gwine hug your neck. Sis, I did somethin last night dat I oughtn't done en I can' hardly walk dis mornin. Pulled off my long drawers last night en never had none to change wid. I can' bear to get down en pray or nothin like dat, my knee does ache me so bad. I gwine up town yonder en get some oil of wintergreen en put on it. Yes'um, dat sho a good thing to strike de pain cause I heard bout dat long years ago. Sis, ain' you got no coffee nowhe' dis mornin? God knows, de Lord sho gwine bless you, Sis."

"What honey? No'um, I won' here in slavery time. I was just tereckly after it. Well, I come here a Lewis, but I inherited de Davis name when I married. Old man Peter Lewis was my daddy, en my mother—she was a North Carolina woman. Oh, I heard dat man talk bout de old time war so much dat I been know what was gwine fly out his mouth time he been have a mind to spit it out. My daddy, he belonged to de old man Evans Lewis en he been de one his boss pick to carry to de war wid him. Yes'um, he stayed up dere to Fort Sumter four years a fightin en hoped shoot dem old Yankee robbers. My old man, he had one of dem old guns en I give it to his brother Jimmie. He lives way up yonder to de north en he carried dat gun wid him just cause I give it to him, he say. He marry my younger sister en she grayer den I is. Think dey say dey lives to Rockingham, North Carolina. Yes, honey, my daddy was sho in dat wash out dere to Fort Sumter. Lord, have mercy, I never hear tell of crabs en shrimps in all my life till my daddy come back en tell bout a old woman would be gwine down de street, dere to Charleston, cryin, 'Shrimps, more shrimps.' But, my Lord, I can' half remember nothin dese days. If I had de sense I used to have, I would give de Lord de praise. Honey, he said a lot of stuff bout de war. Told a whole chance of somethin. Tell us bout de parade en everything, but I is forgetful now en I just can' think. De Bible say dat in de course of your life, you will be forgetful in dat how I is. Just can' think like I used to. You see, I gwine in 70 now.

"Oh, I was born dere to Mullins in January on de old man Evans Lewis' plantation. Den we moved dere to de Mark Smith place after freedom settle here. Dat long high man, dat who been us boss. His wife was name Sallie en de place was chock full of hands. No, mam, my white folks didn' care bout no quarter on dey plantation. Colored people just throwed 'bout all over de place. Oh, I tell you, it was a time cause de niggers was dere, plenty of dem. Some of dey house was settin side de road, some over in dat corner, some next de big house en so on like dat all over de place. Oh, dey lived all right, I reckon. Never didn' hear dem say dey got back none. Hear dey live den better den de people lives now. Oh, yes'um, I hear my parents say de white folks was good to de colored people in slavery time. Didn' hear tell of nobody gettin nothin back on one another neither. No, child, didn' never hear tell of nothin like dat. Seems like de people don' work dese days like dey used to nohow. Well, dey done somethin of everything in dat day en time en work bout all de time. Ain' nobody workin much to speak bout dese days cause dey walks bout too much, I say. I tell you, when I been a child gwine to school, soon as I been get home in de evenin en hit dat door-step, I had to strip en put on my everyday clothes en get to work. Had to pick up wood en potatoes in de fall or pick cotton. Had to do somethin another all de time, but never didn' nobody be obliged to break dey neck en hurry en get done in dem days. Chillun just rushes en plays too much dese days, I say. No, Lord, I don' want to rush no time. I tellin you, when I starts to Heaven, I want to take my time gettin dere.

"Lord, child, I sho hope I gwine to Heaven some of dese days cause old Satan been ridin me so tough in dis here world, I ain' see no rest since I been know bout I had two feet. My husband, he treat me so mean, if he ain' in Heaven, he in de other place, I say. Den all dem chillun, Lord a mercy, dey will kill you. I raised all mine by myself en I tell you, dey took de grease out of me.