"I always thought a lot of Lincoln 'cause he had a heap of faith in de nigger ter think dat he could live on nothin' at all."

EH



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 397 Subject: MARGARET THORNTON Person Interviewed: Margaret Thornton Editor: G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: SEP 10 1937]



MARGARET THORNTON

An interview with Margaret Thornton, 77 years old, of Hayti, Four Oaks, North Carolina.

"I wus borned an' raised on de plantation of Jake Thornton of Harnett County. My mammy, Lula, my pappy, Frank, an' my brother an' sisters an' me all wus dere slaves. De man I finally marries, Tom, am also a slave on de plantation.

"I wus jist five years ole when de Yankees come, jist a few of dem to our settlement. I doan know de number of de slaves, but I does 'member dat dey herded us tergether an' make us sing a heap of songs an' dance, den dey clap dere han's an' dey sez dat we is good. One black boy won't dance, he sez, so dey puts him barefooted on a hot piece of tin an' believe me he did dance.

"I know dat my white folks hated de Yankees like pizen but dey had ter put up wid dere sass jist de same. Dey also had to put up wid de stealin' of dere property what dey had made dere slaves work an' make. De white folks didn't loose dere temper much do', an' dey avoids de Yankees. Now when dey went protrudin' in de house dat am a different matter entirely.

"I wus brung up ter nurse an' I'se did my share of dat, too honey, let me tell you. I has nursed 'bout two thousand babies I reckins. I has nursed gran'maws an' den dere gran' chiles. I reckin dat I has closed as many eyes as de nex' one.

"Atter de war we stayed on, case Marse wus good ter us an' 'cided dat we ain't got nowhar ter go. I stayed on till I wus thirteen or fourteen an' den me an' Tom married. He had a job at a sawmill near Dunn, so dar we went ter live in a new shanty.

"Tom never did want me ter work hard while he wus able ter work, but I nursed babies off an' on all de time he lived. When he wus in his death sickness he uster cry case I had ter take in washin'. Since he's daid I nurses mostly, but sometimes I ain't able ter do nothin'. I hopes ter git my pension pretty soon an' dat'll help a heap when I'm laid up, not able ter turn my han' at nothin'."

LE



N.C. District: No. II Worker: Mrs. W.N. Harriss Words: 550 Edited: Mrs. W.N. Harriss Subject: Tillie, Daughter of a Slave Interviewed: Tillie, Caretaker, Cornwallis Headquarters, corner Third and Market Sts, Wilmington.



TILLIE, DAUGHTER OF A SLAVE

Caretaker, Cornwallis Headquarters Corner Third and Market Streets Wilmington, N.C.

"La, Miss Fannie, what you mean askin' me what I knows about slavery! Why I was bawn yeah's after freedom!" With a sweeping, upward wave of a slender, shriveled brown arm to indicate the wide lapse of time between her advent and the passing of those long ago days. The frail, little body might have been any age between sixty and a hundred; but feminine vanity rose in excited protest against the implication of age suggested by the question.

Tillie is one of the landmarks of Wilmington. She was one of the servants in the house of which she is now caretaker, at the time of the owner's death, and the heirs have kept her on allowing her to live in the old slave quarters in the back garden. She sits in the sun on the coping of the brick wall, or across the street on the low wall of the grounds around St. James Church. Children and their nurses gather there on the lawn, and Tillie holds forth at length on any topic from religion and politics to the cutting or losing of teeth. She makes the bold statement that she can tell you something about everybody in Wilmington. That is "eve'body we knows." There is a general uneasiness that perhaps she can. Little escapes the large, keen, brown eyes, and the ears are perpetually cocked.

After several conversations in passing, memory was coaxed to the time when as a very young child she remembered incidents of slave times which she had heard from her mother.

"My mother belonged to the Bellamys, an' lived on their plantation across the river in Brunswick. It was the bigges' place anywhere hereabouts. I was raised on it too. Of co'se it was in the country, but it was so big we was a town all to ourselves.

"Did any of the colored people leave after freedom? Of co'se they did'n'. Were'nt no place to go to. None of us was 'customed to anybody but rich folks, an' of co'se their money was gone. I've heard Mis' Bellamy tell how her child'en made enough out of potatoes to buy their clo'es right on that plantation. So we all stayed right there. My mother brought us all up right there on the plot she'd been livin' on all the time. When I come along we had plenty to eat. She had a whole pa'cel of us, and we always had plenty of collards, an' po'k an' corn bread. Plenty of fish.

"O, yes, stuff was sold. I can remember timber bein' cut, an' our folks got some wages to buy clo'es. We did'n have no school, but we had a church. Soon as I was big enough I came to Wilmin'ton to work. I never has lived with none but [TR: duplicate "but" crossed out] the bes'. My mother always said 'Tillie, always tie to the bes' white folks. Them that has inflooence, 'cause if you gits into trouble they can git you out'. I've stuck to that. I've never had any traffic wid any but the blue bloods, an' now look at me. I'm not able to work, but I got a home an' plenty to eat. An' I ain't on no relief, an' Tillie can sho' hold her head up."



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 740 Subject: ELLEN TRELL Person Interviewed: Ellen Trell Editor: G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: SEP 10 1937]



ELLEN TRELL Age 73

20 McKee St., Raleigh, North Carolina.

"Needham Price owned about fifty slaves, and mother an' I were among that number. He was a very rich man, and owned a large plantation in Wake County, N.C., near the town of Knightdale.

"My father belonged to Tom Bodie way down in Edgecombe County, and mother and I went by the name of Bodie. My father's given name was Haywood. Mother's name was Caroline. The fare was bad in regard to food and clothing, but the slave quarters, though small and shanty-like in appearance, were warm an' dry. The rules were strick and the privileges few. Mother was whipped and scarred by the lash so bad the scars were on her when she died. I have seen them many times.

"There were no books of any kind allowed the slaves and no social gatherings tolerated. Slaves were allowed to go to the white folks church and at times all slaves were carried to services at the church. The preacher told them to obey their marsters and missuses, that the Bible said obey.

"Marster lived in a large house with fourteen rooms, which the slaves called the big house. He had four house servants to do his and missus bidding. They were 'specially trained as Marster did a lot of entertaining in slavery time. Marster and missus had a lot of parties where they served a lot of good food and various kinds of liquors to their guests. When marster was in his cups he was mighty rough, and any of the slaves who displeased him at these times were liable to get a beating.

"I have heard a lot of talk about ghosts and witches among the colored folks. I have seen a few who had spells put on them by witches. My mother had a spell put on her and she lay in bed talking to herself and sweating draps of sweat as big as the end of my finger. She would groan and say, 'go away evil spirit, go away,' but the spell would not leave her until she went to a white witch-doctor and got cured.

"After the surrender father came up from Edgecombe County and he and mother went and worked with Mr. Ruth Dunn of Wake County. They stayed close, never going out of the county. Mother, after a year of [HW: circle around "of"] two at Mr. Dunn's, began to think about goin' back home. She was free and though her ole marster had treated her rough she loved the missus and said she rather stay with marster Price than anyone else. Father went to see Mr. Price. He told him to tell Caroline to come on back home and that he shure better bring her back. Mother said when she got back home they all had a general good time cooking, eating, and laughing. Marster tole her he never wanted her to leave him again. Mother said she was so full of gladness she could not reply so she just stood there and cried. Marster walked off. Mother took charge of the house and father jist about took possession of the farm. He looked after the stock, all the farm tools, kept plenty of wood on the wood pile all the year roun'.

"Father and mother carried the keys and acted like the place belonged to them. They got most of the slaves who were agreeable to come back. Marster gave them work and he loafed and prospered. Because he trusted the Negroes so much they felt the responsibility put upon them, and they worked for his interests.

"Mother and father stayed there until they died. I stayed with father and mother until I married Badger Farrell then we stayed in a cabin on the plantation several years. Most of my life was spent near Knightdale, Wake County, until my husband died fifteen years ago. I had eight children, four girls and four boys. They are all dead except one, a boy, whom I have lived with in Raleigh since my husband died.

"I think slavery was a bad thing. This story is the things my mother and father told me of slavery and my own observations since I became old enough to remember the general happenings. Mother said the place which had been a place of torture in slavery days turned out to be a haven of rest after slavery, a home where peace, plenty and contentment reigned supreme."

LE



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 760 Subject: HENRY JAMES TRENTHAM Person Interviewed: Henry James Trentham Editor: G.L. Andrews



HENRY JAMES TRENTHAM Raleigh, N.C. Rt. 2 Age 92 years

"I wus born de second day of December 1845. Dat would make me 92 years of age. I wus born on a plantation near Camden, S.C. I belonged to Dr. Trentham and my missus wus named Elizabeth. My father wus named James Trentham and mother wus named Lorie. I had two brothers and one sister. We all belonged to Dr. Trentham.

"Marster's plantation wus a awful big plantation with 'bout four hundred slaves on it. It wus a short distance from the Wateree River. The slave houses looked like a small town and dere wus grist mills for corn, cotton gin, shoe shops, tanning yards, and lots of looms for weavin' cloth. Most of de slaves cooked at dere own houses, dat dey called shacks. Dey wus give a 'lowance of rations every week. De rations wus tolerably good, jest bout like people eat now. Dere wus a jail on de place for to put slaves in, an in de jail dere wus a place to put your hands in called stocks. Slaves wus put dere for punishment.

"I seed lots of slaves whupped by de overseers. Marster had four overseers on de place an' dey drove us from sunup till sunset. Some of de women plowed barefooted most all de time, an' had to carry dat row an' keep up wid de men, an' den do dere cookin' at night.

"We hated to see de sun rise in slavery time cause it meant anudder hard day, but den we was glad to see it go down.

"Marster lived in a large two story house wid 'bout twelve rooms in it. We called it de plantation house. Dere wus a church on de plantation an' both white an' black went to preachin' dere. Dere wus Sunday School dere too. De preacher tole us to obey our missus an' marster. He tole us we must be obedient to 'em. Yes sir, dat's what he tole us. Some of de slaves run away. When dey wus caught dey wus whupped and put in de stocks in de jail. Some of de slaves dat run away never did come back. De overseers tole us dey got killed reason dey never come back.

"De patterollers come round ever now an' den an' if you wus off de plantation an' had no pass dey tore you up wid de lash.

"Marster an' missus rode around in a carriage drawn by two horses and driven by a driver. Dey had four women to work in de house as cooks, maids, an' de like.

"No huntin' wus allowed a slave if no white man wus wid 'im, an' dey wus not allowed to carry guns.

"De corn shuckin's was a great time. Marster give good licker to everybody den. When anybody shucked a red ear he got a extra drink of whiskey. We had big suppers den an' a good time at corn shuckin's. Atter de shuckin' at nite [HW: night] dere would be a wrastlin' match to see who was bes' on de plantation. We got a week holliday at Xmas. Den wus de time shoes wus give to de slaves, an' de good times generally lasted a week. At lay-by time wus another big time. Dat wus 'bout de Fourth of July. Dey give a big dinner an' everbody et all de barbecue an' cake dey wanted.

"I saw slaves sold at Camden. Marster carried some slaves dere an' put 'em on de auction block an' sold 'em. I wus carried but I wus not sold. I went with the old doctor. I wus his pet. Dey carried slaves away from de plantation in chains. Dey carried five or six at a time. If a nigger didn't suit him he sold him.

"Missus didn't like for him to beat 'em so much no how. De old doctor had three boys, William, Sidney and Henry and two girls, Missie and Carrie.

"Dey would not allow slaves no books an' I can't read an' write. I did not git any learnin.

"When a slave died dere wus only a few to go to de buryin. Dey didn't have time to go, dey wus so busy workin'. De slaves wus burried in plain wood boxes which wus made by slave men on de plantation. Our marster looked atter us when we got sick.

"I married Ella Davis 31 years ago in South Carolina, near Camden. We had twelve chilluns, six boys and six girls.

"Slavery wus pretty rough and I am glad it is all over."



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 631 Subject: JANE ANNE PRIVETTE UPPERMAN Person Interviewed: Jane Anne Privette Upperman Editor: G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 4 1937]



JANE ANN PRIVETTE UPPERMAN 74 years old, of 330 West South Street.

"I wusn't livin in Raleigh when my mother wus freed from slavery. We wus livin' in Nash County right near the border of Wake County. We belonged to Shirley Brantly. Our missus wus named Penina.

"I wus born a slave, but I wus only 'bout two years old at de time of de surrender. I am 74 now. I wus born in April. I had my age in a Bible, but de book got tore to pieces an' my age got lost.

"We lived on Marster Brantly's plantation an' de slave quarters wus near de great house. Mother said she wurked in de fiel's from sun to sun. Dey did not eat breakfast in de mornin' fore dey went to wurk. It wus cooked an' put on a shelf an' dey had breakfas' at about eleven o'clock in de day. Mother said sometimes de flies got to de meat an' blowed it fore dey could come in to eat it. Mother said de food wus bad an' not fixed right.

"Dere wus a lot of de slaves divided among marsters chillun. I can't remember how many.

"Marster wus a soldier an' when he come an' tole mother she wus free, Missus Penina tole her, 'No, you aint free, you'se got to stay here an' wurk right on.' Marster tole her if she had been through wid what he been through wid she could give mother up as free as takin' a drink of water.

"When de war ended father come an' got ma an' took her on to his marsters plantation. My father wus named Carroll Privette an' my mother wus Cherry Brantly, but after she wus free she begun to call herself by my fathers name, Privette. Father belonged to Jimmie Privette across Tar River from whar ma lived. He lived near a little place named Cascade. We lived there at father's marster's place till most of de chillun wus 'bout grown, den father bought a place in Franklin County from Mr. Jack Griffin. He stayed there long enough to pay for de place; den he sold it an' we moved to Clayton.

"At this time all de older chillun wus married, an' dats what dissatisfied my father. He had nobody to help him wurk. Arch, Frank, an' Dennis wus married. Mary wus married. Two girls an' one boy wus lef' single. Dere wus seben of de chillun. We moved from Clayton to Raleigh. I wus married in Raleigh. I married William Upperman.

"Mother an' faather died in Raleigh. Mother died right here in dis house. My mother an' father couldn't do no writin', but father could read a little. He could read hymns an' de Bible.

"I aint remember nothin' 'bout slavery 'ceptin' what I've heard 'em say. Some said dey had a good time an' liked slavery. Dat wus when dey had good marsters. Den some says dey had a hard time an' didn't like it. Dat wus when dey had bad marsters. Slavery wus good an' bad accordin' to de kind of marster you had.

"My husban' died September 6, 1925. I am unable to wurk. I've had a stroke on one side. I'se jest hangin' 'round home.

"My daughter wurks for de WPA an' supports me but now she has been laid off. My chillun, some of 'em live in Harlem, New York, but dey has to have so much to live on dey can't help me. Dey sends me a Christmas present most of de time, an' dey remembers me on mother's day sometime.

"I aint signed up wid any of de places to get money yet. Don't see what I is goin' to do. I aint got 'nough money to pay bus fare to de registerin' place other side of town."

LE



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 901 Subject: EX-SLAVE STORIES Person Interviewed: Ophelia Whitley Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



EX-SLAVE STORIES

An Interview by Mary A. Hicks with Ophelia Whitley of Zebulon, (Wake Co.) N.C. May 12, 1937.

"I wuz borned at Wakefield in 1841, here in Wake County. My mammy wuz named Eliza an' my pappy wuz named Thomas. Dar wuz eleben uv us chilluns, Frances, Sally Ann, Jane, Pattie, Louisa, Alice, Firginia, Sam, Haywood, Boobie and me. We belonged to Mr. Agustus Foster an' he wuz right good to us even do' he had a hundred or so other slaves.

"I 'members one whuppin' I got when I wuz little 'bout a big matter dat looked little at de time. Mens would come by in kivered wagons, (we called dem speckled wagons) an' steal Marse Gus' nigger chilluns. He had lost a heap of money dat way, so he forbids us of goin' out ter de road an' he orders us ter stay 'way back in de rear uv de house. One day we sees a drove uv dese wagons comin' an' we flies down ter de road. De marster ketches us an' I flies, but he hobbles ter our cabin on his crutches an' he pinches me, pokes me wid de crutch an' slaps my face.

"His son Billy wuz de overseer an' he wuz good ter git along wid, but he shore made dem darkies wuck. De wimmen plowed an' grubbed, an' I'se known dem ter leave de field, go ter de house an' find a baby an' be back at wuck de next day. Dat ain't happen often do', mostly dey done light wuck fer a week or so. De babies wuz carried to Ant Hannah's house an' she raised 'em all so's dat de other wimmen could wuck. De mammies ain't even 'member which wuz dere chilluns half de time, so dar wuz no mo'nin' when somebody got sold.

"I 'members a slave sale an' hyarin' de marster tell Cindy an' Bruce ter act up fer de benefit of de buyers. Cindy said dat she could do ever'thing, so she brung a good price, but Bruce, atter sayin' dat he could do it all, wuz tole ter hitch up a hoss in a hurry. He got de hoss an' turned his head ter de spatter board an' tried to hook de hoss up hind part befo'. De marster can't find no buyer, so he whups Bruce awful atter he gits him home, but dat black boy says, 'Marse, Yo' can kill me, but I'd ruther stay on hyar.' I'se seed niggers in chains, but dey wuz travelin', or wuz mighty bad niggers.

"We had log cabins to live in an' dey wuz comfortable but we ain't had much jubilees, de marster not believin' in such things. We warn't teached nothin', not even religion an' we got whupped if we wuz ketched wid a piece uv paper or a slate. De white folks warn't teached nothin' den, an' you know dey won't gwine ter take no trouble wid de niggers. De niggers had a doctor do' when dey got sick same as de white folks, an' dey got a lot of spring tonic an' such, made out of barks an' roots.

"When de slaves got married dey done it dis way: de marster hilt a broom an' dey solemnly steps over it twict den dey kissed an' dey wuz married, 'course dar wuz something dat de marster said, but I done forgot whut it wuz.

"When we hyard dat de Yankees wuz comin' some of de niggers went fer de woods an' stayed till atter de surrender, but most uv us stayed on an' wucked jist de same.

"My marstar made his own brandy an' whiskey an' when de Yankees come he wuz a rich man. His smoke house wuz ful o' hams an' he hid 'em in de ceilin' of my mammy's shack, an' he buried dem barrels of brandy, but de Yankees done found it all an' dey ain't left nothin'.

"I 'members how some of dem Yankee officers cussed in front of my mussus an' how I tole' em dat dey mought be Yankees but dey won't half raised at dat.

"Atter de surrender my marster had ter make de slaves leave, but he moved my papy's cabin furder an' we jist stayed on same as always till he died. I 'members moughty well when my mammy an' papy got married case I seed it two years atter de surrender.

"Dar wuz two witches lived in our neighborhood. Dey wuz sisters named Miss Quinnie an' Miss Tilda an' I'se seed dem brewin' coffee a many a time an' pourin' it out in a long neck goard. Dey done a powerful lot of things which I can't recollect right dis minute, anyhow dey wuz witches.

"I uster see ghosts on dis very road nigh 'bout ever' night. Dey wuz white an' spongy lookin' an' dey set under de bushes an' holler an' holler an' holler. I'se poured water on 'em many a time but it ain't done no good.

"Do you know chile, slavery wuz a good thing, but folks has improved a lot since den, an' de Yankees warn't half as good ter us as our ole marster an missus wuz, even if'n dey did put a stop ter de Ku Klux Klan beatin' sorry niggers dat had ort ter be hung."

MH/LE



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 614 Subject: EX-SLAVE STORY Story teller: Tom Wilcox Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 1 1937]

[HW: Has two songs beaten because worked on Sun.]



EX-SLAVE STORY [HW: 81 years]

An Interview on May 19, 1937, with Tom Wilcox of Method.

"I wuz borned on March 18th, 1856 durin' de biggest snow dat eber hit Eastern Carolina; dey says dat hit wuz up ter de roof. De place whar I wuz borned wuz in Warren County; jist acrost de Halifax County line. My mammy's marster wuz Mr. B. Osco Harris an' his wife wuz named Martha.

"My mammy's name wuz Alice an' my pappie's name wuz Camelin. I had three brothers, Little Berry, Cornelius James, an' C.J. Dar wuz four gals, Anne, Pattie, Pennie, an' Mary Frances.

"De white folks wuz good ter us an' we loved 'em, but we wanted ter be free, case de Lawd done make us all free.

"My missus wuz a religious woman an' I can't tell yo' de number uv times she has beat me case I done some kind uv wuck on a Sunday. We went ter church ever Sunday an' we wusn't 'lowed ter cuss an' sich things.

"I wuz nine when de war commence. Durin' de war an' I wuz workin' in de fiel', long wid de fifty or sixty other slaves. Dar wuzn't nary a Yankee track made in our section, an' we ain't knowed much 'bout de war.

"As I done tell yo' onct we wuz fed an' clothed good an' we lived fer each other, but my pappy belonged ter one man an' my mammy ter another one an' so we wanted ter be all together. Atter de war we stayed on till '69, den we come ter Raleigh. Most uv de wimmens an' chilluns wuz sent by de train, but me an' pappy an' Berry, we walked all de way by Louisburg, an' driv' pappy's thirteen heads of cattle.

"In 1871 we buyed ten acres uv lan' at Method fer three dollars a' acre an' moved out hyar.

"No mam, we ain't liked Jeff Davis, but we did like Mr. Lincoln. I 'members a verse uv a song dat we sung durin' de first uv de war. It goes dis way.

"'Jeff Davis is a rich man, Lincoln is a fool, Davis rides a big fat horse, Lincoln rides a mule. Knick knack dey say Walk ole Georgia row.'

"Dar wuz another song I 'members but I can't think uv no games, case we ain't neber played none. Yo' has hyard dat atter a dog gits so full uv fleas he can't tote no mo'. Well, dat's de way I is. I peddles my peanuts, but I barely makes a livin'.

"Hyar's de song do' de best I 'members it an' it wuz sung atter de war.

"'Ole Confederate has done played out, Shrew ball, shrew ball, Ole Confederate has done played out Shrew ball say I, An' ole Gen'l. Lee can't fight no mo'; We'll all drink stone blind Johnnies go marchin' home.

"'I bought me a chicken fur fifty cents, Shrew ball, Shrew ball, I bought me a chicken fur fifty cents Shrew ball say I, I bought me a chicken fur fifty cents An' de son uv a bitch done jump de fence, We'll all drink stone blind Johnnies go marchin' home.

"'Eighteen hundret an' sixty one Shrew ball, shrew ball, Eighteen hundret an' sixty one Shrew ball say I, Eighteen hundret an' sixty one An' dat's de year de war begun We'll all drink stone blind Johnnies go marchin' home.

"'Eighteen hundret an' sixty-five Shrew ball, Shrew ball, Eighteen hundret an' sixty-five Shrew ball say I, Eighteen hundret an' sixty-five De Yankees et ole Lee alive; We'll all drink stone blind Johnnies go marchin' home.'"



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 723 Subject: CATHARINE WILLIAMS Person Interviewed: Catherine Williams Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



CATHARINE WILLIAMS 2214 Barker Street

"My name is Catharine Williams. I was born December twenty fifth, 1851. I remember my mother, but I do not know anything about my father. My mother's name was Adeline Williams. Mother baked ash cakes, but my children would not eat 'em. She died fifty years ago. I had four children when she died, but I had three boys and two girls. I was born in Virginia but I cannot tell what part. I was four years old when my mother brought me to North Carolina. Our old master, Dabney Cosby,[10] moved from Virginia to North Carolina then. We came straight into Raleigh, North Carolina and have been living in Raleigh ever since.

"We were Williams when owned by Cosby and we were never sold again, but remained in the same family till we were set free after the surrender. We had good food, fair clothing and comfortable sleeping places. I know what a pallet is. All slep' on 'em a lot in slavery days, especially when it was hot weather. I makes 'em now sometimes.

"My missus wus named Fannie. I do not know how many slaves they owned, but Marster did not have a plantation, he lived in town. He was a brick mason, and he made brick. He had two brick kilns.

"Our missus and marster were kind to us but they did not teach us to read and write. I learned to read and write since the surrender. I went to church and Sunday school. There were no Negro preachers, but we attended the white folks's church. We did not have any prayer meetings because our homes were in the white folks's yard.

"I was never whupped, and mother and myself were well treated, so I have no complaint to make against our white folks.

"The first work I done was nursing the children in the home, next I waited on the table, then general house [HW: work].

"At the last days of the war Wheeler's Calvary camped around my house at night. They tole us the Yankees would be in Raleigh the next morning and shore 'nough they came in next morning. If the citizens had not gone out and surrendered Raleigh to the Yankees they would have torn Raleigh to pieces. We were living on the corner of Hargett and Dawson Streets. The Yankees done us no harm. They done all right in Raleigh. They did not take nothing around home. They put out guards around the homes by the time they got in. We were not afraid of 'em, none of us children, neither white nor colored; they played such purty music and was dressed so fine. We run after the band to hear 'em play.

"I heard talk of the patterollers, but never saw any. I knew very little about the jail in Raleigh for slaves. I never saw any slaves sold or any in chains. I never knew of any slaves running away to the North. We children both white and colored enjoyed the Christmas holidays together. We played running and jumping and hide and seek.

"We had doctors when we got sick. Dr. Johnson was one of them. After the war we stayed on with Marster and Missus until they died. I have been on Oberlin Road about twenty-five years.

"No Sir, what you talkin' 'bout? No, there were no Negro schools in Raleigh at the time of the surrender, but I have had a good time all my life as far as bein' treated right is concerned.

"I have never married. I will have to find that man yet, and at this age I don't expect to find him. Ha! ha! never found that man yet. I am staying with my niece.

"I know nothing about Abraham Lincoln. He helped us to be free. I knew nothing about Jefferson Davis, Booker T. Washington or Roosevelt. I know very little about Jim Young, only he was a polititian."

LE

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 10: Dabney Cosby, a practical architect and contractor, came to Raleigh from Halifax County, Virginia, and did a good deal of building in the city between 1850 and 1860. The original Yarborough House (1852) was built by him. The Heart house, corner Hargett and Dawson Streets, Cosby's home, and another stucco house, corner Hargett and Harrington Streets are still standing in the locality mentioned in the story.]



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 755 Subject: REV. HANDY WILLIAMS Person Interviewed: Rev. Handy Williams Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



REV. HANDY WILLIAMS Dunn, North Carolina.

"My name is Handy H. Williams. When de war went up I wus twelve years old, 12th of March. I belonged to Blaney Williams, and his wife wus named Polly. My mother wus named Margaret Williams, and my father wus named Sam Williams. I do not remember my grandmother and grandfather; can't remember 'em.

"My father lived in Greene County. De plantation wus in Greene County. Dere were about 190 acres in de farm and dere wus about 25 slaves on it.

"We lived in Greene County till the war went up. We had plenty to eat, good clothes and a nice place to sleep. Marster wus not good to us, but he gave us plenty to eat and wear. He worked us from light till dark and then my mother had to do house work after workin' in de fields all day, an' father had to do de feedin' or pick cotton at night.

"We had no holidays. Prayer meetings were not allowed in de quarters and a slave darsent to be caught wid a book in his han'.

"De patterollers come by often an' dey caught and whupped de slaves many times. Marster whupped slaves for mos' anything. Sometimes he would get mad, an' whup us when he hardly had an excuse. Yes sir, he would get drunk and whup somebody jest 'cause he was mad. Some of de slaves run away. My Uncle Needham Williams run away. When he come back he wus whupped an' then put up and sold. Aunt Chaney, my mother's sister, wus put up and sold. She wus sold away from her children. When de war went up, she come back home. My Aunt Beadie wus sold on de block in Fayetteville. I remember her well, but we have never heard from her since. She never come back after the surrender. God only knows what become o' her.

"When de war went up we went to Harnett County to Mr. Jim Surles' place, about three miles from whur this town now stands. Dunn wus not here then.

"We stayed there five years, and then moved to Mingo in what is now Sampson County on the Louis Martin Tew Place, and my father bought a place. The deed called for 199 acres more or less. Dat's what de deed called for. We paid for de place, but my father mortgaged de place. He didn't lose it, cause it wus fixed so dat no one could sell or mortgage it while any of de heirs wus livin'. All are dead 'cept Pink Williams and myself, and de lan' fell back to us. Mammy and daddy are both dead long time ago, 'bout twenty-five years.

"Dey had overseers on marster's farm in Greene County and dey were mean to de slaves. I wus not big enough to work much, but dey had me feedin' stock and helpin' around de house.

"We children didn't play any games we wus afraid to play around de white folks. Marster wus a rip snorter and he would get you if you got in his way. He lived in de great house not far distant from de quarters, but we did not go dere unless we had to go dere to work.

"Yes sir, you know how children is when dey hear wagins coomin', and a big crowd marchin' together. Yes sir, I remember de Yankees. Dey rode dere horses against de fences and tore em down. Dey comed in de yard and turned over de bee gums. Dey shot de chickens. Dey would say 'Dere he goes, shoot him, shoot him', and den de guns would go 'bam, bam, bam, an' de chickens would fall dead'. Dey shot de dogs in de yard. Course, to Heben, I am tellin' de truth. Dey took de meat and destroyed mos' everything at Marster's. After dey lef', if you could get a few beans or peas dey wus mighty good. People et tater peelings an' some come near starvin'.

"I wus mighty lucky an' what I got I got it from de Southern white folks; dey been mighty good to me since de war. I have worked for de town 'bout 35 years and I work for it now. I ain't able to do much now, but I have a section of de Courthouse. I keeps it might clean.

"I know nothin' much bout de great men you ax me 'bout; don't remember much about 'em. I think slavery wus a bad thing, yes sir, I shore does."

LE



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 544 Subject: JOHN THOMAS WILLIAMS Person Interviewed: John Thomas Williams Editor: G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: SEP 10 1937]



JOHN THOMAS WILLIAMS

77 years old. 1272 Pettigrew Street, Raleigh, North Carolina.

"I don't know who I am nor what my true name is. I wus born December 25, 1860 on a plantation in New Hanover County. The plantation belonged to John Williams, whose wife wus named Isabella and the farm wus on land which is now in the corporate limits of Wilmington, N.C.

"The reason I don't know who I am is that I don't remember my father and mother or any of my people. When I got so I could remember anything I wus with the Williams family. Marster an' missus, an' their family are the only ones I ever looked upon as my people. They never told me who I wus.

"After the war I stayed with them a long time and helped them on the farm. They run a truck farm. I got along all right while I wus with the Williams family, but when I got grown I left them. I loved them but I realized I wus a nigger and knew that I could never be like them, and that I wus one to myself.

"When I left I went to Little Washington, N.C. Then to Plymouth. I stayed at these places several years working as a hand on truck farms. From there I went to Charlotte, Greensboro, and Norfolk. I then went North an' stayed eight years in New York City as a waitman for a white man and his family. I then went to Plymouth, N.C.

"I married Maggie Swain, a former sweetheart, as soon as I got back to Plymouth. We had two children. She lived six years. I then married Mary Davenport of Little Washington. We had seven children. She died and I come to Raleigh and married Maggie Towel. We had no children by our marriage.

"I own no home and have never owned one. Excepting the eight years I spent in New York City my life has been spent in farming. I farm some now and do little jobs for the white folks.

"I don't know much about slavery, as I wus too young to know much about it. There wus other slaves belonging to Marster Williams but I don't remember any of them because when I got so I could know what it wus all about they were free and gone from the plantation.

"I have asked thousands of questions trying to find out who my people are but no one has ever told me who I am or who my people are. If I have any brothers and sisters, I don't know it.

"I have nothing to say about being partly white, I leave that to your imagination. I have thought about it a lot. I don't know.

"I have been blessed with good health, I am breaking now but I am still able to do light jobs.

"I am a good fiddler. The white folks have taught me to do lots of different things. I have had very few advantages and I cannot read and write.

"I have never been in jail in my life. I can give good references from dozens of white folks. I try to live right, be honest and above all give my fellow man a square deal."

LE



Interview with LIZZIE WILLIAMS, Ex-slave, 35 Max Street, Asheville, N.C.

By Marjorie Jones, Aug. 24, 1937.

"I's bo'n in Selma, Alabam', I can't mind how long ago, but jes 'bout ninety yeahs. I come to dis country 'bout 1882. Yes, I's purty porely des days an' I's gettin' homesick for my ol' home.

"I's bo'n and lib on ol' man Billy Johnson's plantation—thousan's acres of groun' and plenty of niggahs. My pappy he allus b'long to ol' man Billy. He not sich a bad man but de Lawd knows I's seed bettah ones. When I's right sma't size Missy Mixon, she was Marse Billy's wife sistah, she get Marse Billy to let her hab me. She war a good woman. She took me to town to lib and make a little white girl outten me. Y'all knows what I means; I got treated moh like de white folks den de res' of de' niggahs.

"But 'twarn't long afore Missy send me to New 'Leans to nurse de sick chile of her sistah. I never war satisfi' down dar. Evverbody so differen'. But de nex' year we go back to Alabam'.

"I went to Marse Ellis Mixon's, he tubble mean to his niggahs. But I belong to de Missus, she allus treat me good. All de little niggahs have to learn to work when dey little; get out'n pull weeds; dey neber had no time to play. Most dem niggahs was scared to death, jes like de ones on Billy Johnson's plantation. Dey know dey get whupped jes like a mule iffen dey act like dey don' wanna wurk. Dey neber get much to eat, jes side meat, co'n bread and 'lasses. Ol' Billy he had overseers whut was mean to de pore niggahs. Sometime dey ties dem up an' dey strip dem and dey whups dem wif cow hide, else dey lets other niggahs do it.

"All de niggahs have to go to church, jes lik' de white fokes. Dey have a part of de church for demselfs. After de wah we hab a church of our own. All de niggahs love to go to church an' sing. I mind a lot of de songs we used ter sing in de fiel's. I mind my pappy used ter sing in de fiel'. 'Git on bo'd, little chillun, git on bo'd.' Sometimes day babtiz in de ribber. Den dey sing:

"'I wanna be ready I wanna be ready I wanna be ready good Lawd to walk in Jarusalem jes like John. John say de city was jes four square, To walk in Jarusalem jes like John. But I'll meet my mothah and fathah dar, To walk in Jarusalem, jes like John.'

"I 'members 'bout de paddyrollers. De niggahs hab' to get a pass from de massa or de missus if dey go ennywhar. De paddyrollers jes lik' police. 'Bout dozen of dem ride 'long togedder. Fus thing dey say: 'Whar yo' pass?' Den iffen yo' hab one dey lets you go but iffen you don' hab one dey strips yo' to de waist and dey lams yo' good till de blood comes. Sometime dey rolls you over a barrel and lams you while de barrel rolls.

"I mind a tale my pappy tell 'bout one time he see de paddyrollers comin'. He scared to death cas he did'n hab no pass. He kno' iffen dey finds him whut dey do. So pappy he gets down in de ditch an' throw sand an' grunts jes like a hawg. Sho' nuf dey thinks he a hawg and dey pass on, cept one who was behin' de others. He say: 'Dat am de gruntin'es ol' hawg I ebber hear. I think I go see him.' But de udders day say: 'Jes let dat ol' hawg lone an' min' yo own business.' So day pass on. Pappy he laff 'bout dat for long time.

"I mind ol' Mose, he hab monthly pass from de massa but he forgit it one day and de paddyrollers whup him and throw him in de callaboose. In de mawnin' when de massa wake and fin no fresh water and no fire in de stove and de cows not milk, he say: 'I know Mose in de callaboose,' and he hab to go atter Mose.

"Lots of de pore niggahs run away, but 'twarn't no use. Der wa'nt no place to go. Day was allus lookin' for you and den you had to work harder den ebber, 'sides all kin's of punishment you got. Den dey nearly sta've you to def, jes feed you on bread and water for long time.

"De niggahs nebber kno' nothin' 'bout learnin', jes wuk' all dey's fit for. De only thing I ebber do wif a book is jes to dust it off. I mind two little niggahs whose missy teach dem to read. Emily, she look lik' a white gal. She was treated jes like she white. Her daddy was a white man. Emily was a sma't gal. She belong to one of de Johnson mens. She do all de sewin' for her missy. When de missy go to buy clothes for de chillun she allus take Emily along. Her pappy pay no more 'tention to her den to de res' of de niggahs. But de missy she was good to her. She never stay in de quarters, she stay in de house with de white fokes. But Emily have de saddes' look on her yaller face cas' de other niggahs whisper 'bout her pappy.

"Many de pore niggah women hab chillun for de massa, dat is iffen de massa a mean man. Dey jes tell de niggahs whut to do and dey know better den to fuss.

"Ol' missus she good to me. I mind one time I got tubble mad an' say some ugly words. Marse Ellis he come up ahin' me and he say: ''Lizabeth I gwina wallup yo' good for dat.' I 'mense cryin' and run to de missus and she say: 'Look heah Ellis Mixon, y'all mind yo' own business an' look atter yo' own niggahs. Dis one b'longs to me.' Jes same when de missus went upstairs Marse Ellis take me in de smoke house and sta't to hit me. I yell for de missus an' when she come she plenty mad. Marse say he nebber ment to whup me, jes scare me little.

"I mind 'bout de wah. We niggahs neber know whut it 'bout. We jes go on an' work. Nebber see nothin', nebber hear nothin', nebber say nothin', but de wah all 'roun'. Evah day we heah dat de Yankee sojers comin'. De plantations was gittin' robbed. Evabody kep' a hidin' things. It was a tubble time. I mind plain when dey comes to Selma. All de fokes was at church when de Yankees come. Day warn't no fightin' much, dey didn' hab time. Dey jes march in an' take de town. But O, Lawdy, dat night dey burn de stores an' houses an' take all de things dey want. Cannons and guns all 'round, it war tubble sight.

"Marse Ellis' plantation 'bout 15 mile from Selma on Pea Ridge. I mind one night Marse come home from town and he say: 'Lizabeth.' I say, 'Yes, suh.' He say: 'Bring me some fresh watah from de spring.' I run as fas' as I kin an' bring de watah an' gib it to him, den he say: 'Lizabeth, de Yankees am comin' soon, an' I knows yo'se gwin to tell 'em where I hide all my 'longings, guns an' ebberthing.'

"'No' I says, 'jes why would I tell whar yo' hide yo' guns an' things?' Missy come in den and she say: 'Go on an' let Lizzie 'lone, bettah be feared dem niggahs you done so mean to gwine tell, dats all you got to be feared of. But you, let Lizzie 'lone, she b'long to me.'

"Marse Ellis he go out an' hide some mo' stuff. Dat night de sojers burn Selma. Dat war on Sunday. Next night we wake up in de middle of de night an' de house what we keep de bes' carriage an' horse was a'burnin'. De pore ho'se done break outten de barn an' was a runnin' roun' all over de place a'screamin' wif her poor back bu'nt tubble. We nebber find out iffen de Yankees set de barn fire or not. Guess dey did. Dey done set Marse Hyde's house afire an' burn it to de groun' with Marse Hyde in it. Marse Hyde he had plantation in New 'Leans and when de Yankees take de town Marse Hyde he promise not to leave but when de sojers [HW: know] he 'scape and come to his house on Pea Ridge, so when de Yankees fin' him here dey burn him in de house wif all his 'longings.

"On de Tuesday mawnin' after dey burn Selma I wake up to see Marse Ellis' plantation all surroun' wif Yankee sojers. I war nigh scared to death. I so 'fraid dey hurt me an' Missy but dey didden, dey jes march through de house an' when dey see Marse Ellis dey ask him for he guns an' things dey want. Marse Ellis show dem whar de things war. 'Twarn't no use to do anything else. I take Marse Frank's 'backer an' hide it in de Missus' trunk. Den when de sojers git what dey want dey laugh and ma'ch 'way on de hill.

"After de surren'er all de niggahs jes lost. Nowhar to go, nothin' to do, 'less dey stay wif de massa. Nobuddy hab anything but 'federate money and it no good. My pappy had 'bout three hunner dolla's but 'twarn't no good 'tall.

"All some of de white fokes think of war killin' de pore niggahs what worked for dem for yeahs. Dey jes scour de country and shoot dem, 'specially de young men. One day dey come down de road to'ards my pappy. Dey start askin' questions 'bout what he gwine to do now he free. 'What I gwin to do?' says pappy. 'What can I do? I jes stay on de plantation an' help ol' Massa iffen I can get an ol' mule an' a piece of an ol' plow.'

"One of de boys look at pappy an' say: 'I like take yo' head for a target,' but de ol' man wif dem say no so dey leave my pappy 'lone. Dey hab de commissary whar de fokes git food; it b'long to de Yankee sojers. Food scarce lik' ebberthing. Folks say now dey hab hard times; dey don' know nothin' 'bout hard times less day lib in war time and be slave to white fokes.

"Den dey was de Ku Klux Klan. Dey war frightful lookin' critters. My pappy say dey go out in de country an' tie pore niggahs to de tree and beat 'em to death. Dey dress all kin's of fashions. Most of dem look like ghosts. Dey nebber go lik' de paddyrollers, dey jes sneak 'round at night when de poor niggahs in bed. Den 'bout twelve 'clock dey tie up all de niggahs dey ketch and atter dey through beatin' dem dey leaves dem wif dey han's tied in de air and de blood astreamin' outten dey backs.

"Atter freedeom I come heah to live wif my fokes de Williams's, dats how I come to be Williams. Nebber had no chillun of my own. Dey calls me 'Lizbeth Johnson 'fore I went to live with de Mixons, den I be one of de Mixon niggahs, den later I be a Williams; don' guess names matter much no way."



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 801 Subject: PENNY WILLIAMS Story teller: Penny Williams Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



PENNY WILLIAMS Ex-Slave Story

An interview with Penny Williams 76, of 716 S. East Street, Raleigh, N.C.

"I wus borned at de Hinton place 'bout three miles south of Raleigh, an' course we 'longed ter Mr. Lawrence Hinton.

"My mammy wus named Harriet Moore an' my pappy wus named Mack Moore, dat wus cause dey 'longed fust ter a Mr. Moore I 'specks. I had ten bruders an' sisters, an' we all done putty good.

"De marster owned 'round two hundert slaves an' 'bout four hundert acres o' lan' an' dey had ter wuck peart, dey sez.

"We had 'nough ter eat, sich as it wus, but dat ain't braggin', I reckins. An' we wus punished putty bad iffen we complains, sasses or 'fuses ter wuck lak we should. Nat Whitaker wus de oberseer an' patteroller an' he wus strick, I'se tellin' you. I'se seed him beat slaves till de blood run.

"Dar wus some nigger mens what 'ud go coutin' spite of de debil, an' as de marster ain't gibin' dem no passes dey goes widout 'em. Mr. Whitaker, he whups, an' whups, but dat ain't stop 'em. At las' Marster Lawrence 'cides ter hang cowbells on dere necks so's he can hyar dem if'en dey leabes de place atter night.

"I'se tellin' you chile, dem niggers am gwin' anyway. Dey ain't got sense nuff ter put dere han's in de bell ter keep de clapper from ringin', but dey does stuff de bell wid leaves an' it doan ring none, 'sides dat dey tears deir shirts, or steals sheets from missus clothes line an' fold dem ter make a scarf. Dey ties dese 'roun' deir necks ter hide de bell an' goes on a-courtin'.

"Dey ain't got no pins ter pin de scarf on, but dey uses thornes from de locust tree or de crabapple; an' dey hol's fine.

"Dey warn't no spoons, knives, an' forks dem days, but de smart slave cut him some outen hickory an' dey wus jist as good as de other kin'.

"Dey also ain't go no matches dem days so flint rocks wus rubbed tergether.

"I 'members mostly 'bout de rear en' o' de war, 'specially 'bout de Yankees comin'. I 'members dat marster an' his fambly done moved ter town, case dey can't git no 'tection dar. Dar wusn't a soul on de place but de slaves dar when de Yankees comed a-takin' an' a-killin'.

"I 'members dat I wus drawin' water at de well, when de Yankees comed. I looks up de road an' dar am a gang o' 'em comin'. I draps de bucket back in de well an' I flies in de big house.

"Well sir, dey kills de chickens, hogs, geese, an' eber' thing as dey comes, eben ter marster's collie, an' when dey gits ter de big house dey swears dat dey'll burn hit down. Dey stan's dar fur a minute, an' den one o' 'em sez dat hit am too putty ter burn, another one sez dat hit am too putty ter belong ter a damm Reb, but dey doan burn it. I hyars hit all from de winder in de big house, an' I shore is glad dat dey ain't burn hit.

"Dey tears up all dey wants to, den dey robs de smokehouse; an' dey goes on 'bout dere business.

"Atter de surrender our white folkses comes back an' we stays on five or six years I reckon, den we moves ter Mis' Emma Greens' place five miles furder in de country. We shore ain't got 'long good atter de war. De Yankees what 'ud die ter free us ain't carin' iffen we starves nother."

Suddenly Aunt Penny was attracted by a hummingbird flitting around the pomegranate bush near the doorstep.

"Does you know which am de bes' way ter ketch a hummin' bird chile?" After a negative answer she smiled. "When you sees him 'roun' de flowers den you soaks two er three in whiskey, dey bird will suck till he gits drunk an' can't fly 'way, dat's how you ketch him.

"I hates de town sparrers an' de cowbirds what ain't got nuff sense ter leave de floods. You read 'bout hit in de papers I reckon. You knows dey am bout de size of a peckerwood.

"Yesum, one witch tried ter ride me onct. I wus in de bed, an' she thought dat I wus 'sleep. I feels her when she crawls up on my lef' leg an' stops de circulation. I knows how ter fix her do' so I gits up an' puts a knife under my pillow.

"I has slep' wid dat knife dar ever' since dat time an' I ain't had no mo' trouble wid witches ner circulation nother. So I reckons dat I fixed her good an' plenty."



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 471 Subject: AUNT PLAZ Source: Plaz Williams Editor: Geo. L. Andrews



AUNT PLAZ

An interview with Plaz Williams of Four Oaks who says that she is around 90 years of age.

"Margaret Thornton sez dat she has got de world record beat on nussin' but dat's whar she's wrong. She ain't a day over seventy, yit she sez dat she has nussed more dan I has an' me ninety. Right now I'se a nussin' of a 'oman what has jist got back from de hospital. Yes, mam, a heap of people sez dat dey'd rather have me dan de doctor.

"I wus borned in Mississippi, so dey tells me, den I wus sold ter Mr. Moses Mordecai of Raleigh, atter dat I 'longed ter a Mr. Henry Lane who lived in Wake County. Dar wus two er three of dem Lane's named Henry, course dis one wus de youngest.

"I worked in de fiel's like a man an' I liked it too. Marse Moses had oberseers what beat you fer nothin' but Marse Henry ain't dat sort of a person at all. Marse Moses an' Marse Henry both drunk whiskey an' such but dey wus different when dey wus drunk. Marse Moses 'ud beat you an' cuss you, but Marse Henry 'ud laugh at you an' play wid you.

"I know one time Marse Moses comed ter see Marse Henry an' atter dey had drunk awhile Marse Henry seed me in de yard. Hit bein' on Sunday he calls me ter come to his library. When I gits in he axes me iffen I'se ever been drunk an' I tells him no. Den he pours me a glassful an' sez for me ter drink it. I begs at fust, den I sez dat I won't drink de brandy. Marse Henry laugh an' would have let me go but dat debil, Marse Moses, sez, 'Le's hol' her an' pour it down her guzzle, Henry.' Dat's what dey done an' dey pours down seberal drinks. Terreckly Marse Henry axes me ter fetch him some water but when I starts my laigs am too weak to go so I sets down on de floor. Marse Henry laugh an' laugh but Marse Moses sez, 'Whup de shameless hussy what ain't got no mo' raisin' dan ter git dog drunk.' He would have whupped me too but Marse Henry won't let him do it. 'Stid of beatin' me he sez ter git in de corner an' sleep it off.

"I doan know nothin' 'bout de Yankees comin' case we wus sent 'way back in de country ter stay. Marse Henry comes out dar an' tells us dat we is free. Marse Henry has told Jack Williams dat he can't have me 'fore dis, so I axes, 'Can I marry Jack now, Marse Henry.' He sez yes, so 'fore night I is at Jack's cabin. I thought dat dar ain't got ter be no preacher, but a week er two atter dis a preacher comes by an' marries us.

"We moved here case hit am better farmin' land. We worked hard ter make anything do', an' fer awhile I thought dat we'd starve ter death.

"Dar ain't so much ter tell about atter de war. Our chilluns died fast as we had 'em. We worked hard an' 'bout twenty years ago Jack died. I'se been on de charity some but I hope dat when I gits my pension I won't have ter trouble dem no more."



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 652 Subject: MELISSA WILLIAMSON Story teller: Melissa Williamson Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



MELISSA WILLIAMSON Ex-Slave Story

An interview with Melissa Williamson 77 of Bledsoe Avenue, Raleigh, N.C.

"Dis June fifteenth sebenty-eight years ago I wuz borned in Franklin County near Louisburg.

"My mammy an' me belonged ter Mr. Billy Mitchell [HW: Mitchell (?)] 'fore she died, which wuz one of de fust things dat I 'members, an' den Mis' Mitchel tuck me in her house an' raise me. Dat wuz de fust year of de war, I believes.

"De Mitchels [HW: Mitchells (?)] wuz good ter us in a way, an' dey doan spare de rod when it am needed, nor does dey think dat a picaninny can't go barefooted in de hot summertime. Dey believes in a heap of wuck do' an' no play at all, an' very little rations.

"De men slaves 'ud wuck in de fiel's an' at dinnertime dey ain't had nothin' 'cept a quart of buttermilk, an' a ash cake. I got a whole heap better dan dey did, but youngin'-like I begged dem fer some of dere dinner.

"I neber thought dat Mis' Mitchel wuz hard till I seed her whup Aunt Pidea. Aunt Pidea wuz a good soul an' she wuz good ter we youngins, an' we loved her. She got ter gittin' frantic do', an' she'd put on her dinner on de stove, den she'd go ter de woods an' run an' romp lak a chile.

"Mis Mitchel had loved her too, but atter awhile she got mad an' she wuz mad bad too. She tuck Aunt Pidea out ter a tree, stripped off her waist, tied her ter de tree an' whup her wid a cowhide till de blood runs down her back.

"We wuz told dat de Yankees would kill us an' we wuz skeered of dem too, an' I wuz always runnin' fer fear de Yankees would git me. When dey did come I wuz out at de well, drawin' water wid de windlass an' I wuz so short dat I had ter jump up ter grap de handle. I looked up de road an' de Yankees wuz comin' up de road as thick as fleas on a dog's back. I gives a yell, turns de windlass a loose, an' flies roun' de house ter my missus. Hit's a wonder dat windlass ain't turn ober an break my haid in.

"I had hyard 'bout my sister what wuz sold 'fore I wuz borned, an' I ain't knowin' whar she is, but atter de war had been ober fer two years she comed ter Mis' Mitchel's an' got me. She carried me ter Louisburg an' sont me ter de Yankee school dar. I 'member a song dat de Yankees teached us, or at least a part o' one.

"'How often we think o' childhood joys And tricks we used to play Upon each other while at school To while the time away.'"

Chorus

"'They often wished me with them But they always wished in vain I'd rather be with Rosenell A-swinging in the lane.'"

"I won't talk ter my chilluns 'bout slavery days, case I doan want 'em ter git stirred up 'bout it. I'se told 'em dat we ain't paid no mo' dan de white folkses fer our freedom, case some of dem sold dereselbes ter git hyar an' dey fought in wars dat de nigger doan know nothin' 'bout.

"I know dat Mis' Mitchel done wrong when she ain't give us enough ter eat, an' when she whup Aunt Pidea 'bout bein' crazy, but I 'members somethin' else dat make me tender towards her an' other white folkses.

"I 'members dat Mis' Mitchel used ter take me visitin' ter white folkses houses an' some o' dem hates niggers an' won't give me no place ter sleep, 'cept on de floor by missus bed. Sometimes I can feel her now, kiverin' me up wid her own clothes durin' de night or feelin' me to see if I'm chilly or too hot."

AC



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 1108 Subject: ALEX WOODS Story teller: Alex Woods Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



ALEX WOODS Ex-Slave Story

8 Ford Alley—end of Martin Street, Raleigh, N.C.

"My name is Alex Woods. I wus born May 15, 1858. In slavery time, I belonged to Jim Woods o' Orange County. De plantation wus between Durham and Hillsboro near de edge o' Granville County. My missus name wus Polly Woods. Dey treated us tolerable fair, tolerable fair to a fellow. Our food wus well cooked. We were fed from de kitchen o' the great house.

"We called marster's house de 'great house' in dem times. We called de porch de piazza. We were fed from de kitchen o' his house during de week. We cooked and et at our homes Saturday nights and Sundays. We wove our clothes; children had only one piece, a long shirt. We went barefooted, an' in our shirt tails; we youngins' did.

"We did not have any shoes winter nor summer, but mother and father had shoes with wooden bottoms an' leather tops. Dr. Tupper, de man who was principal of de Shaw School, de man who started de school and de church on Blount St., gave me my first pair o' shoes. Dis wus the second year after de surrender. I wus nine years ole den. Dey were boots wid brass on de toes, solid leather shoes, made in Raleigh on Fayetteville Street in de basement o' Tucker's Dry Goods Store, 'bove de Masonic Temple as you go up. Ole man Jim Jones, a colored shoe maker, worked in dis shop.

"I can read, but I cannot write, 'cause I've been run over three times by automobiles. Once my buggy wus torn to pieces, an' I wus knocked high in de air. De first time dey run into me dey killed my hoss. De third time dey paralized my arm and busted the linin' o' my stomach.

"I learned to read an' write since de surrender by studying in spare time. Dey wouldn't let any slaves have books in slavery time. Mother had a book she kep' hid. Dey would whup a slave if dey caught him wid a book.

"Dere were between twenty-five and thirty slaves on de plantation but dere wus no church. Dey would not allow us to have prayer meetings in our houses, but we would gather late in de night and turn pots upside down inside de door to kill de sound and sing and pray for freedom. No one could hear unless dey eaves-drapped.

"The patteroller rode around to see after de slaves and whipped 'em when dey caught' em away from home. I have seen slaves whipped. Dey took them into the barn and corn crib and whipped 'em wid a leather strap, called de cat-o'nine tails. Dey hit 'em ninety-nine licks sometimes. Dey wouldn't allow 'em to call on de Lord when dey were whippin' 'em, but dey let 'em say 'Oh! pray, Oh! pray, marster'. Dey would say, 'Are you goin' to work? Are you goin' visitin' widout a pass? Are you goin' to run away?' Dese is de things dey would ax him, when dey wus whuppin' him.

"My old marster's brother John wus a slave speculator. I 'member seein' him bringin' slaves in chains to de plantation when he wus carryin' 'em to Richmond to put 'em on de auction block to be sold. Dey were handcuffed wid a small chain to a large chain between 'em, two men side by side; dere wus 'bout thirty in a drove. Dere wus 'bout three or four white men on horses. Dey wus called slave drivers; some went before, an' some behind. Dey carried pistols on dere sides. De distance wus so fur, dey camped out at night. De slaves set by de fire, and slept on dese trips wid de chains on 'em. Evertime de mens come to our house I wus afraid my mother and father would be sold away from me. If a woman wus a good breeder she sold high, sometimes bringin' five hundred to a thousand dollars. De man who wus doin' de buyin' would inspect dem. Dey would look in dere mouthes, and look 'em over just like buyin' hosses. There were no jails on de plantation.

"Sometimes we went to the white folkses church. De preacher would tell us to obey our missus and master. Dat's what de preacher tole us. Dey would take us back home and give us plenty to eat after preachin' was over, and tell us to do what de preacher said. Dey tasked us Saturday mornings, and if we got it done we could go to de branch on a flat rock and wash our clothes.

"Dey 'lowed my father to hunt wid a gun. He wus a good hunter an' he brought a lot o' game to de plantation. Dey cooked it at de great house and divided it up. My father killed deer and turkey. All had plenty o' rabbits, possums, coons, an' squirrels.

"My father's first wife wus sold from him, an' I am de chile o' de second wife. I had five brothers, Greene, Isom, Nupez, den Sam Woods, who wus no slave, den Spencer Woods, he wus no slave. I had five sisters: Mollie, Rasella, who were slaves, an' Nancy, Catharine, an' Fanny who were not slaves. My father wus named Major Woods, and mother wus named Betty Woods.

"Yes Sir, I 'member gettin' sick before de surrender, an' dey bled me and gave me blue mass pills. Dey wouldn't tell me what wus de matter. Missus chewed our food for us, when we wus small. De babies wus fed wid sugar tits, and the food missus chewed. Deir suckled mothers suckled dem at dinner, an' den stayed in de field till night. I remember missus chewin' fer me, an' de first whippin' I got. Missus whipped me for pushin' my sister in de fire. Sister called me a lie and I pushed her in de fire an' burned her hand. Missus whipped me. We never did fight nor push one another after dat.

"Marster used colored overseers when he did not work his men hisself.

"I wus very much afraid o' de Ku Klux. Dey wore masks and dey could make you think dey could drink a whole bucket of water and walk widout noise, like a ghost. Colored folks wus afraid of 'em. Dey wus de fear o' de niggers.

"I married Addie Shaw in 1888 first, den in 1918 I married agin. I think Abraham Lincoln wus all right. He caused us to be free. Franklin D. Roosevelt is all right; he kept a lot of people from perishing to death."

BN



District: No. 2 Worker: Mary Hicks No. Words: 580 Subject: A SLAVE STORY, ANNA WRIGHT Person Interviewed: ANNA WRIGHT Editor: George L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 17 1937]



ANNA WRIGHT

An interview with Anna Wright, 72 years of age, of Wendell, North Carolina.

"I wus borned de year de war ended so I can't tell nothin' dat I seed, only what my mammy tol' me. We lived dar on Marse James Ellis' plantation till I wus five or six years old, so I 'members de slave cabins an' de big house.

"De plantation wus in Scotland County an' de big house set on a little knoll. Back of de big house set de rows of slave cabins an' back of dem wus de apple orchard an' de bee orchard. Hit wus a purty place sho' nuff, an' dey tells me dat dey wus happy 'fore de war, 'case Marse James wus good ter dem.

"Dere must of been 'bout two hundret slaves, 'cordin' ter de number of cabins. De slaves wurked hard in de fiel's but unless de wurk wus pushin' dey had Sadday evenin' off ter go a-fishin' er do anything de wanted ter do. Two or three times a year Marse James let dem have a dance an' invite in all de neighborhood slaves. Dey had corn shuckin's ever' fall an' de other slaves 'ud come ter dem.

"De candy pullin's wus a big affair wid de niggers. Dey'd come from all over de neighborhood ter cook de lasses an' pull de candy. While de candy cooled dey'd play drappin' de handkerchief an' a heap of other games. De courtin' couples liked dese games 'case dey could set out or play an' court all dey pleased. Dey often made up dere min's ter ax de marster iffen dey could narry [TR: marry] too, at dese parties.

"De weddin's wus somethin' fine, believe me. De niggers dressed lak a white folks weddin' an' de circuit parson married dem in de big house parlour. De marster an' de missus wus dere, an' dey always gived presents ter de bride too. Atter de ceremony wus over dar'd be a feas' an' a dance. Most likely dar'd be a heap of noise. I've heard mammy tell of seberal big weddin's.

"Mammy tol' me dat Marse James wus a very religious man, an' dat wus why de preacher married de slaves, an' why he made all of de slaves go ter church on Sunday an' say de blessin' at meal times.

"My pappy wus named Tom, an' he wurked in de fiel's fer Marse James. Hit wus pappy dat haul up de waremelons in de wagin body atter I could 'member, an' dey said dat he haul dem up in slavery times too. Marse James raise a plenty melons fer all of de slaves an' he raise plenty of hogs ter eat de rines. De slaves uster have a watermelon slicin' 'bout once a week an' sometimes dey'd invite de neighbors in.

"You wants ter know 'bout some ole slavery foods, well I'll tell you what I knows. Did you ever hear of kush? Kush was cornbread, cooked in de big griddle on de fireplace, mashed up with raw onions an' ham gravy poured over hit. You mought think dat hit ain't good but hit am.

"Fried chicken wus seasoned, drapped in flour an' den simmered in a big pan of ham gravy wid a lid on hit till hit wus tender, den de lid wus tuck off an' de chicken wus fried a golden brown as quick as possible.

"Does you know de old southern way of makin' baked chicken dressin'? Well, it wus made from soft corn bread wid bacon grease, onions, black pepper an' boiled eggs. Some of de folks used cheese too in dis dressin'.

"De griddle cakes wus flour an' meal mixed, put on a big ole iron griddle on de fireplace an' flipped over two times. Ashe cake wus made of either meal or flour, wrapped in a damp cloth an' cooked in de hot ashes on de h'ath. Taters wus cooked in de ashes too an' dey wus good like dat. I'se heard mammy say dat de slave chilluns uster bake onions dat way.

"Fish, dem days, wus dipped in meal, 'fore dey wus cooked, 'cept cat fish; an' dey wus stewed wid onions.

"Cornmeal dumplin's wus biled in de turnip greens, collards, cabbages, an' so on, even ter snap beans, an' at supper de pot licker wus eat wid de dumplin's. Dat's why de folks wus so healthy.

"Speakin' 'bout sweets, de blackberry or other kind of pie wus cooked in a big pan wid two crusts. Dat made more an' wus better ter boot. Cakes wus mostly plain or had jelly fillin', 'cept fer special company.

"From the first I could 'member de white folks an' niggers alike ain't had much ter eat. A heap of our rations wus vege'ables, squirrels, rabbits, possums an' coons. We drunk parched meal water fer coffee an' we done widout a heap of things, but atter awhile we got richer, an' Marse James got some money for something from de No'th, so dey got 'long all right.

"When I wus twelve we moved ter Wake County, out near Wendell an' when I wus thirteen I married Sam Wright, an' we got along fine till he dies 'bout ten years ago. We ain't had but three chilluns but we lived through a heap of bad depressions.

"What we needs mostly am law an' justice. Why hit wus better when de Ku Kluxes had law, dey tells me. Now-a-days de nigger fights on de streets like dogs. Back den de bossman seed to hit dat dar wus law an' order in de town an' in de country too fer dat matter, an' dem wus de good ole days."

EH



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 1,017 Subject: DILLY YELLADAY [TR: or YELLADY?] Story teller: Dilly Yelladay Editor: Geo. L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: JUL 24 1937]



DILLY YELLADY [TR: or YELLADAY?] 909 Mark Street

"Yes sir, I 'members 'bout what my mammy tole me 'bout Abraham Lincoln, Grant, an' a lot of dem Yankees comin' down ere 'fore de surrender. Frum what dey tole me Sherman knowed de south like a book 'fore he come thro' last time. Dat he did. Yankees come thro' dressed like tramps an' dey wus always lookin' fur some of dere people. Dat wus dere scuse. Dey wus at big shindigs de southern white folks had 'fore de war.

"Mammy an' dad dey said de niggers would git in de slave quarters at night an' pray fer freedom an' laf 'bout what de Yankees wus doin' 'bout Lincoln an' Grant foolin' deir marsters so.

"Ole Jeff Davis said he wus goin' to fight de Yankees till hell wus so full of 'em dat dere legs wus hangin' over de sides, but when dey got 'im in a close place he dres in 'omans clothes an' tried to git away frum 'em but dey seed his boots when he started to git in dat thing dey rode in den, a carriage. Yes dats what it wus a carriage. Dey seed his boots an' knowed who it wus. Dey jus laffed an' pointed at 'im an' said you hol' on dere we got you, we knows who you is an' den dey took 'im. He wus mighty brave till dey got 'im in a close place den he quit barkin' so loud. Mammy an' dad dey said dere wus a lot of de white folks didn't keer much 'bout Jeff Davis. Dey said he wus jus de bragginest man in de worl', always a-blowin'. Dat bird flew mighty high but he had to come back to de groun' an' course when he lit de Yankees wus waitin' for 'im an' ketched 'im.

"I wus born May 2nd, two years after de surrender. I is 70 years old. My mammy belonged to Autsy Pool. When he died she fell to his son Billy Pool. There wus six of the chillun, an' they wus given out to the Pool chillun. Dey went like lan' does now; dey went to de heirs. Ole man Autsy loved likker so good he would steal it from hisself. He'd take a drink an' den blow his breath an' keep wife from smellin' it."

[HW margin: (following paragraph) to p. 7]

"My uncle, Parker Pool, tole me de Yankees made a slave of him. His Marster wus so good to him he wus as happy as he could be 'fore de Yankees come.

"I wus born on the Harper Whitaker place near Swift Creek. Simon Yellady wus my father. He wus born in Mississippi an' he belonged to Dr. Yelladay.

"My father an' his brothers run away an' went to de Yankees. I heard daddy tell 'bout it. He got sick an' dey shipped him back home to North Carolina. Dey shifted niggers from place to place to keep de Yankees frum takin' 'em. When dere got to be too many Yankees in a place de slaves wus sent out to keep' em from bein' set free.

"Mother said onct when she wus carrying the cows to de pasture dey looked down de railroad an' everything wus blue. A nigger girl by the name of Susan wus with her. My mother wus named Rilla Pool. Dey said dey jus fell down an' de Yankees commenced sayin' 'Hello Dinah,' 'Hello Susie.' Mother an' Susan run. Dey just went flyin'. When dey crossed a creek my mother lost her shoe in de mud, but she just kept runnin'. When she got home she tole her missus de Yankees were ridin' up de railroad just as thick as flies. Den my great-grandmother said, 'Well I has been prayin' long enough for 'em now dey is here.' My great-grandmother wus named Nancy Pool an' she wus not afraid of nothin'. I wus a little teency thing when she died.

"My mother tole we all about dem times dey rode de horses up to de smoke house an' got de meat. De Yankees went to de clothes line an' got de clothes an' filled de legs an' arms wid corn an' slung it over dere saddles an' rode away. Yes, de Yankees freed us but dey lef' nuthin' for us to live on. Dey give us freedom but dey took mos' everything an' lef' us nuthin' to eat, nuthin' to live on.

"We lived in Wake County all de time. I did not git only to the third grade in school. Sister Mary Eliza got to de second grade. Father could write a little, mother couldn't. Couldn't go to school 'cept when it wus too wet to work. Work, work, work, thirty acres in cotton an' cawn, cawn plowed till de 15th of August, plow, plow, plow hard ground, bad ground. Nine girls an' one boy workin' from sun to sun. My mother had twenty-three chillun. She wus just as smart as she could be, worked in de field till just awhile before she died. She been dead 'bout twenty years. My father been dead 'bout ten years. He died right here in Raleigh with me, at 121 corner Mark an' Bledsoe Street.

"I've had a hard time workin' all my life. I ain't able to work now but I does all I can. I have places to work a little every day for my white folks. I am gwine to work long as I kin. My mother an' father said dey had good marsters an' dey were crazy 'bout 'em. Sometimes dey sold slaves an' den de patterollers whupped 'em now an' den, but dey had nuthin' to say against dere white folks.

"Well, I los' my home. I have worked mos' uv my life since I come to Raleigh, buyin' a home, but I got ole an' couldn't keep up de payments an' dey come down ere an' took my home. 'Twas the wurst thing dats come to me in my whole life. Less you tried it yo' can't 'magine how bad it makes you feel to have to give up yer home."

AC



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 398 Subject: HILLIARD YELLERDAY (A SLAVE STORY) Reference: Hilliard Yellerday Editor: George L. Andrews



HILLIARD YELLERDAY 1112 Oakwood Avenue, Raleigh North Carolina.

"My mother and father told me many interesting stories of slavery and of its joys and sorrows. From what they told me there was two sides to the picture. One was extremely bad and the other was good.

"These features of slavery were also dependent on the phases of human attitude and temperment which also was good or bad. If the master was broadminded, with a love in his heart for his fellowman, his slaves were at no disadvantage because of their low social standing and their lack of a voice in the civil affairs of the community, state, and nation. On the other hand if the master was narrowminded, overbearing and cruel the case was reversed and the situation the slaves were placed in caused a condition to exist concerning their general welfare that was bad and the slave was as low socially as the swine or other animals on the plantation.

"Some owners gave their slaves the same kind of food served on their own tables and allowed the slaves the same privileges enjoyed by their own children. Other masters fed their slave children from troughs made very much like those from which the hogs of the plantation were fed. There were many instances where they were given water in which the crumbs and refuse from the masters table had been placed. They gathered around this food with gourds and muscle shells from the fresh-water creeks and ate from this trough. Such a condition was very bad indeed."

[HW: begin]

"My mother was named Maggie Yellerday, and my father was named Sam Yellerday. They belonged to Dr. Jonathan Yellerday, who owned a large plantation and over a hundred slaves. His plantation looked like a small town. He had blacksmith shops, shoe shops, looms for weaving cloth, a corn mill, and a liquor distillery. There was a tanyard covering more than a quarter of an acre where he tanned the hides of animals to use in making shoes. There was a large bell they used to wake the slaves, in the morning, and to call them to their meals during the day. He had carriages and horses, stable men and carriage men. The carriage master and his family rode in was called a coach by the slaves on the plantation. His house had eighteen rooms, a large hall, and four large porches. The house set in a large grove about one mile square and the slave quarters were arranged in rows at the back of master's great house. The nearest cabins were about one hundred yards from it.

"Dr. Jonathan Yellerday looked after slaves' health and the food was fair, but the slaves were worked by overseers who made it hard for them, as he allowed them to whip a slave at will. He had so many slaves he did not know all their names. His fortune was his slaves. He did not sell slaves and he did not buy many, the last ten years preceding the war. He resorted to raising his own slaves.

"When a girl became a woman she was required to go to a man and become a mother. There was generally a form of marriage. The master read a paper to them telling them they were man and wife. Some were married by the master laying down a broom and the two slaves, man and woman would jump over it. The master would then tell them they were man and wife and they could go to bed together. Master would sometimes go and get a large hale hearty Negro man from some other plantation to go to his Negro woman. He would ask the other master to let this man come over to his place to go to his slave girls. A slave girl was expected to have children as soon as she became a woman. Some of them had children at the age of twelve and thirteen years old. Negro men six feet tall went to some of these children.

"Mother said there were cases where these young girls loved someone else and would have to receive the attentions of men of the master's choice. This was a general custom. This state of affairs tended to loosen the morals of the Negro race and they have never fully recovered from its effect. Some slave women would have dozens of men during their life. Negro women who had had a half dozen mock husbands in slavery time were plentiful. The holy bonds of matrimony did not mean much to a slave. The masters called themselves Christians, went to church worship regularly and yet allowed this condition to exist. Mother, father, sister and I were sent as refugees from Mississippi to N.C. They were afraid the Yankees would get us in Mississippi. I was only four years old when the war ended as I was born April 6, 1861 so I do not remember the trip. We were sent to Warren County to the Brownloe's plantation where we stayed until the war ended.

"There was a question as to just what Mississippi would do and then mother said the Doctor feared we would be taken by the Yankees there so he sent us to N.C. to the above named County. Mother was sent to stay with Mrs. Green Parrish and she took me with her. Mr. Green Parrish was gone to the war. In the last of the war, he was wounded and sent home. While he was recovering I fanned the flies off him. That's the first thing I remember about the war. When he got well he went back and then the war soon ended. After the war ended father and the family moved to Halifax County and worked on a farm belonging to Mr. Sterling Johnston. I was in Warren County when I first began to remember anything and I do not have any specific remembrance of the Yankees. We stayed in Halifax County eighteen years, going from one plantation to another, but we made no money. The landlords got all we made except what we ate and wore. They would always tell us we ate ours up. Sometimes we would be almost naked, barefooted and hungry when the crop was housed and then the landlord would make us leave. We would go to another with about the same results.

"There was a story going that each slave would get forty acres of land and a mule at the end of the war. The Yankees started this story but the mule and land was never given and slaves were turned out without anything and with nowhere to go.

"We moved to Wake County and I farmed until 1903. I had not gotten one hundred dollars ahead in all this time so I got a job with the railroad, S.A.L. Shops in Raleigh, N.C. and that is the only place I ever made any money.

"Father died in 1900 and mother in 1923. I worked from 1903 until 1920 with the S.A.L. Railroad as flunkey. I worked as box packer and machinist's helper. Mother and father died without ever owning a house but I saved my money while working for the Railroad Company and bought this lot 157 X 52-1/2 and had this house built on it. The house has five rooms and cost about one thousand dollars. I've been so of late years I could not pay my taxes. I am partially blind and unable to work anymore."

EH



* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

All footnotes use numbers for consistency, and are reindexed.

Contractions match original text and are inconsistent due to the variety of narrators and interviewers.

Page 5: Retained "Progro Marshells" and "Provo Marshell" inconsistency.

Pages 425-427 and 431-433: Retained inconsistent spellings for "Yelladay", "Yellady", and "Yellerday".

Handwritten edits to punctuation, nested quotation marks, and the following typos have been corrected:

Page 24: Changed "wnated" to "wanted" (I wnated ter go wid him).

Page 35: Changed "ha" to "he" (an' when ha azed dem who dey wus).

Page 45: Changed "Ca8olina" to "Carolina" (de No'th Ca8olina line).

Page 67: Changed "do" to "de" (set fire to do cotton).

Page 167: Changed "creulty" to "cruelty" (stops creulty on plantation).

Page 170: Changed "sn'" to "an'" (Jake, sn' he 'longed ter a family).

Page 249: Changed "I8d" to "I'd" (I8d learn ah half uh chaptuh) and (an I8d write stories about Christ).

THE END