[ADELINE]
"Aunt Adeline," an ex-slave of Wilkes County, Georgia, thinks she is
"around a hundred." Her first memory is, in her own words, "my love for
my mother. I loved her so! I would cry when I couldn't be with her. When
I growed up, I kep' on loving her jes' that-a-way, even after I married
and had children of my own."
Adeline's mother worked in the field, drove steers, and was considered
the best meat cutter on the plantation. The slave women were required to
spin, and Adeline's mother was unusually good at spinning wool, "and
that kind of spinning was powerful slow," added the old woman. "My
mother was one of the best dyers anywhere around. I was too. I made
colors by mixing up all kinds of bark and leaves. I made the prettiest
sort of lilac color with maple bark and pine bark--not the outside pine
bark, but that little thin skin that grows right down next to the tree."
Adeline remembers one dress she loved: "I never will forget it as long
as I live. It was a hickory stripe dress they made for me, with brass
buttons at the wrist bands. I was so proud of that dress and felt so
dressed up in it, I just strutted!"
She remembers the plantation store and the candy the master gave the
Negro children. "Bright, pretty sticks of candy!" Tin cups hold a
special niche in her memory. But there were punishments, too. "Good or
bad, we got whippings with a long cowhide kept just for that. They
whipped us to make us grow better, I reckon!"
Asked about doctors, Adeline replied:
"I was born, growed up, married and had sixteen children and never had
no doctor till here since I got so old!"
Plantation ingenuity was shown in home concoctions and tonics. At the
first sniffle of a cold, the slaves were called in and given a drink of
fat lightwood tea, made by pouring boiling water over split kindling.
"'Cause lightwood got turpentine in it," explained Adeline. She said
that a springtime tonic was made of anvil dust, gathered at the
blacksmith's shop, mixed with syrup. This was occasionally varied with a
concoction of garlic and whiskey!
Adeline adheres to traditional Negro beliefs, and concluded her
recountal of folklore with the dark prediction: "Every gloomy day brings
death. Somebody leaving this unfriendly world to-day!"
[EUGENE]
Another version of slavery was given by Eugene, an Augusta Negro. His
mother was brought to Augusta from Pennsylvania and freed when she came
of age. She married a slave whose master kept a jewelry store. The freed
woman was required to put a guardian over her children. The jeweler paid
Eugene's father fifty cents a week and was angry when his mother refused
to allow her children to work for him. Eugene's mother supported her
children by laundry work. "Free colored folks had to pay taxes," said
Eugene, "And in Augusta you had to have a pass to go from house to
house. You couldn't go out at night in Augusta after 9 o'clock. They had
a bell at the old market down yonder, and it would strike every hour and
half hour. There was an uptown market, too, at Broad and McKinne."
Eugene told of an old Negro preacher, Ned Purdee, who had a school for
Negro children in his back yard, in defiance of a law prohibiting the
education of Negroes. Ned, said Eugene, was put in jail but the
punishment of stocks and lashes was not intended to be executed. The
sympathetic jailor told the old man: "Ned, I won't whip you. I'll just
whip down on the stock, and you holler!" So Ned made a great noise, the
jailor thrashed about with his stick, and no harm was done.
Eugene touched on an unusual angle of slavery when he spoke of husbands
and wives discovering that they were brother and sister. "They'd talk
about their grandfathers and grandmothers, and find out that they had
been separated when they were children," he said. "When freedom was
declared, they called the colored people down to the parade ground. They
had built a big stand, and the Yankees and some of the leading colored
men made addresses. 'You are free now. Don't steal. Work and make a
living. Do honest work. There are no more masters. You are all free.' He
said the Negro troops came in, singing:
"Don't you see the lightning?
Don't you hear the thunder?
It isn't the lightning,
It isn't the thunder,
It's the buttons on
The Negro uniforms!"
[MARY]
Mary is a tiny woman, 90 years old. "I'd love to see some of the white
folks boys and girls," she said, smiling and showing a set of strong new
teeth. "We had school on our plantation, and a Negro teacher named
Mathis, but they couldn't make me learn nothin'. I sure is sorry now!"
Mary's plantation memories, in contrast to those of slaves who remember
mostly molasses and corn-pone, include tomato rice, chickens, baked,
fried and stewed. "And chicken pies!" Mary closed her eyes. "Don't talk
about 'em! I told my grand children last week, I wanted to eat some
old-time potato pie!"
They played "peep-squirrel," Mary remembered. "I never could put up to
dance much, but none could beat me runnin'. "Peep Squirrel" was a game
we made up on the plantation. The girls peeped out, then ran by the men,
and they'd be caught and twirled around. They said I was like a kildee
bird, I was so little and could run so fast! They said I was married
when I was 17 years old. I know it was after freedom. I had the finest
kind of marrying dress that my father bought for me. It had great big
grapes hanging down from the sleeves and around the skirt." Mary sighed.
"I wish't I had-a kep' it for my children to saw!"
[RACHEL]
Rachel's master called his people "servants", not Negroes or slaves. "He
de bes' marster in de worl'," said Rachel. "I love his grave!"
Rachel nursed her aunt's children while the mother acted as nurse for
"de lady's baby whut come fum Russia wid de marster's wife." The czarina
was godmother for the ambassador's baby. "Marster bin somewheh in de
back part o' de worl'." explained the old woman, "You see, he wuz de
guv'nor. He knowed all de big people, senetras and all." Rachel laughed.
"I was a old maid when I married," she said. "De broom wuz de law. All
we hadder do was step over de broom befo' witnesses and we wuz marry!"
[LAURA]
"As far as I kin rekellec'," said Laura, "my mother was give." She could
not remember her age, but estimated that she might be 75 years old. Her
native dignity was evident in her calm manner, her neat clothing and the
comfortable, home-like room. "Dey say in dem days," she continued, "when
you marry, dey give you so many colored people. My mother, her brother
and her aunt was give to young Mistis when she marry de Baptis' preacher
and come to Augusta. When dey brought us to Augusta, I wuz de baby.
Round wheh de barracks is now, was de Baptis' parsonage. My mother was a
cook. I kin remember de Yankees comin' down Broad Street. Dey put up
wheh de barracks is on Reynolds Street. Dey ca'yed me to de fairground.
De man was speakin'. I thought it wuz up in de trees, but I know now it
muster been a platform in bushes. Mistis say to me: 'Well, Laura, what
did you see?' I say: 'Mistis, we is all free.' I such a lil' chile she
jus' laugh at me for saying sich a thing. When I was sick, she nuss me
good."
Laura remembered a long house with porches on Ellis Street, "running
almost to Greene," between 7th and 8th, where slaves were herded and
kept for market day. "Dey would line 'em up like horses or cows," she
said, "and look in de mouf' at dey teeth. Den dey march 'em down
together to market, in crowds, first Tuesday sale day."
[MATILDA]
In contrast to the pleasant recollections of most of the ex-slaves,
Matilda gave a vivid picture of the worst phase of plantation life on a
Georgia plantation. She had been plowing for four years when the war
started.
"I wuz in about my thirteen when de war end," she mumbled, "Fum de fus'
overseer, dey whu-op me to show me how to wuk. I wuk hard, all de time.
I never had no good times. I so old I kain't rekellec' my marster's
name. I kain't 'member, honey. I had too hard time. We live in, a
weather-board house, jus' hulled in. We had to eat anyting dey give us,
mos'ly black 'lasses in a great big ole hogshead. When de war gwine on,
we had to live on rice, mos'ly, what dey raise. We had a hard time.
Didn't know we wuz free for a long time. All give overseer so mean, de
slaves run away. Dey gits de blood-houn' to fin' 'em. Dey done dug cave
in de wood, down in de ground, and hide dere. Dey buckle de slave down
to a log and beat de breaf' outter dem, till de blood run all over
everywhere. When night come, dey drug 'em to dey house and greases 'em
down wid turpentine and rub salt in dey woun's to mek 'em hurt wuss. De
overseer give de man whiskey to mek him mean. When dey whu-op my mother,
I crawl under de house and cry."
One of Matilda's younger friends, listening, nodded her head in
sympathy.
"When Matilda's mind was clearer she told us terrible stories," she
said. "It makes all the rest of us thankful we weren't born in those
times."
Matilda was mumbling end weeping.
"Dey wuz mean overseer," she whispered. "But dey wuz run out o' de
country. Some white ladies in de neighborhood reported 'um and had 'um
run out."
[EASTER]
"Aunt Easter" is from Burke County. Her recollections are not quite so
appalling as Matilda's, but they are not happy memories.
"Dey didn' learn me nothin' but to churn and clean up house. 'Tend day
boy, churn dat milk, spin and cyard dat roll."
Asked if the slaves were required to go to Church, Easter shook her
head.
"Too tired. Sometime we even had to pull fodder on Sunday. Sometime we
go to church, but all dey talk about wuz obeyin' Massa and obeyin'
Missus. Befo' we went to church, we had to git up early and wash and
iron our clo'es."
Easter's brother was born the day Lee surrendered. "Dey name him
Richmond," she said.
[CARRIE]
Carrie had plenty to eat in slavery days. "I'd be a heap better off if
it was dem times now," she said, "My folks didn't mistreet de slaves.
When freedom come, de niggers come 'long wid dere babies on dey backs
and say I wuz free. I tell 'em I already free! Didn't mek no diffrunce
to me, freedom!"
[MALINDA]
Malinda would gladly exchange all worldly possessions and freedom to
have plantation days back again. She owns her home and has a garden of
old-fashioned flowers, due to her magic "growing hand."
"I belonged to a preacher in Ca'lina," said Malinda. "A Baptis'
preacher. My fambly wasn't fiel' han's, dey wuz all house servants.
Marster wouldn't sell none o' his slaves. When he wanted to buy one,
he'd buy de whole fambly to keep fum having 'em separated."
Malinda and her sister belonged to the young girls. "Whar'ever da young
Mistises visited, we went right erlong. My own mammy tuk long trips wid
ole Mistis to de Blue Ridge Mountings and sometimes over de big water."
Malinda said the slaves danced to "quills," a home-made reed instrument.
"My mammy wuz de bes' dancer on de planteshun," asserted the old woman.
"She could dance so sturdy, she could balance a glass of water on her
head and never spill a drap!"
[AMELIA]
Amelia, like many of the old slaves in Augusta to-day, came from South
Carolina.
"I put on a hoopskirt one time," she said. "I wanted to go to church wid
a hoop on. I such a lil' gal, all de chillun laugh at me, playin' lady.
I take it off and hide it in de wood."
Amelia remembered her young mistresses with affection. "Dey wuz so good
to me," she said, "dey like to dress me up! I was a lil' gal wid a tiny
wais'. Dey put corsets on me and lace me up tight, and then dey take off
all dey medallion and jewelry and hang 'em roun' my neck and put long
sash on me. I look pretty to go to dance. When I git back, I so tired I
thow myself on de bed and sleep wid dat tight corset on me!"
FOUR SLAVES INTERVIEWED
by
MAUDE BARRAGAN, EDITH BELL LOVE, RUBY LORRAINE RADFORD
ELLEN CAMPBELL, 1030 Brayton Street, Augusta, Ga., Born 1846.
Ellen Campbell lives in a little house in a garden behind a picket
fence. Ellen is a sprightly, erect, black woman ninety years old. Beady
little eyes sparkled behind her glasses as she talked to us. Her manner
is alert, her mind is very keen and her memory of the old days very
clear. Though the temperature was in the high nineties she wore two
waists, and her clothes were clean and neatly patched. There was no
headcloth covering the fuzzy grey wool that was braided into innumerable
plaits.
She invited us into her tiny cabin. The little porch had recently been
repaired, while the many flowers about the yard and porch gave evidence
of constant and loving care to this place which had been bought for her
long ago by a grandson who drove a "hack." When she took us into the
crowded, but clean room, she showed us proudly the portrait of this big
grandson, now dead. All the walls were thickly covered with framed
pictures of different members of her family, most of whom are now dead.
In their midst was a large picture of Abraham Lincoln.
"Dere's all my chillun. I had fo' daughter and three 'grands', but all
gone now but one niece. I deeded de place to her. She live out north
now, but she send back de money fer de taxes and insurance and to pay de
firemens."
Then she proudly pointed out a framed picture of herself when she was
young.
"Why Auntie, you were certainly nice looking then."
Her chest expanded and her manner became more sprightly as she said, "I
wus de pebble on de beach den!"
"And I suppose you remember about slavery days?"
"Yes ma'm, I'm ninety years old--I wus a grown 'oman when freedom come.
I 'longed to Mr. William Eve. De plantachun was right back here--all dis
land was fields den, slap down to Bolzes'."
"So you remember a lot about those times?"
She laughed delightedly. "Yas'm. I 'longed to Miss Eva Eve. My missus
married Colonel Jones. He got a boy by her and de boy died."
"You mean Colonel Jones, the one who wrote books?"
"Yas'm. He a lawyer, too, down to de Cote House. My missus was Mrs.
Carpenter's mother, but she didn't brought her here."
"You mean she was her step-mother?"
"Yas'm, dat it. I go to see dem folks on de hill sometime. Dey good to
me, allus put somepen in mah hands."
"What kind of work did you do on the plantation?"
"When I wus 'bout ten years old dey started me totin' water--you know
ca'in water to de hands in de field. 'Bout two years later I got my
first field job, 'tending sheep. When I wus fifteen my old Missus gib me
to Miss Eva--you know she de one marry Colonel Jones. My young missus
wus fixin' to git married, but she couldn't on account de war, so she
brought me to town and rented me out to a lady runnin' a boarding house.
De rent was paid to my missus. One day I wus takin' a tray from de
out-door kitchen to de house when I stumbled and dropped it. De food
spill all over de ground. De lady got so mad she picked up a butcher
knife and chop me in de haid. I went runnin' till I come to de place
where my white folks live. Miss Eva took me and wash de blood out mah
head and put medicine on it, and she wrote a note to de lady and she
say, 'Ellen is my slave, give to me by my mother. I wouldn't had dis
happen to her no more dan to me. She won't come back dere no more.'"
"Were you ever sold during slavery times, Aunt Ellen?"
"No'm. I wa'nt sold, but I knows dem whut wus. Jedge Robinson he kept de
nigger trade office over in Hamburg."
"Oh yes, I remember the old brick building."
"Yas'm, dat it. Well, all de colored people whut gonner be sold was kept
dere. Den dey brung 'em over to de market and put 'em up fer sale.
Anybody fixin' to buy 'em, 'zamines 'em to see if dey all right. Looks
at de teef to tell 'bout de age."
"And was your master good to you, Auntie?"
"I'll say dis fer Mr. William Eve--he de bes' white man anywhere round
here on any dese plantachuns. Dey all own slaves. My boss would feed 'em
well. He wus killin' hogs stidy fum Jinury to March. He had two
smoke-houses. Dere wus four cows. At night de folks on one side de row
o' cabins go wid de piggins fer milk, and in de mawnin's dose on de
odder side go fer de piggins o' milk."
"And did you have plenty of other things to eat?"
"Law, yas'm. Rations wus given out to de slaves; meal, meat and jugs o'
syrup. Dey give us white flour at Christmas. Every slave family had de
gyrden patch, and chickens. Marster buy eggs and chickens fum us at
market prices."
"Did the overseers ever whip the slaves or treat them cruelly?"
"Sometimes dey whup 'em--make 'em strip off dey shirt and whup 'em on de
bare skin. My boss had a white overseer and two colored men dey call
drivers. If dey didn't done right dey dus whup you and turn you loose."
"Did the Eves have a house on the plantation, too?"
"No'm, dey live in town, and he come back and fo'th every day. It warn't
but three miles. De road run right fru de plantachun, and everybody
drive fru it had to pay toll. Dat toll gate wus on de D'Laigle
plantachun. Dey built a house fer Miss Kitty Bowles down by de double
gate where dey had to pay de toll. Dat road where de Savannah Road is."
When asked about war times on the plantation Ellen recalled that when
the Northern troops were around Waynesboro orders were sent to all the
masters of the nearby plantations to send ten of their best men to build
breastworks to hold back the northern advance.
"Do you remember anything about the good times or weddings on the
plantation?"
She laughed delightedly. "Yas'm. When anybody gwine be married dey tell
de boss and he have a cake fix. Den when Sunday come, atter dey be
married, she put on de white dress she be married in and dey go up to
town so de boss see de young couple."
"Den sometimes on Sadday night we have a big frolic. De nigger frum
Hammond's place and Phinizy place, Eve place, Clayton place, D'Laigle
place all git togedder fer big dance and frolic. A lot o' de young white
sports used to come dere and push de nigger bucks aside and dance wid de
wenches."
"What happened, Auntie, if a slave from one plantation wanted to marry a
slave from another?"
She laughed significantly. "Plenty. Old Mr. Miller had a man name Jolly
and he wanner marry a woman off anudder plantachun, but Jolly's Marster
wanna buy de woman to come to de plantachun. He say, 'Whut's fair fer de
goose is fair fer de gander.' When dey couldn't come to no 'greement de
man he run away to de woods. Den dey sot de bloodhounds on 'im. Dey let
down de rail fence so de hounds could git fru. Dey sarch de woods and de
swamps fer Jolly but dey neber find him.
"De slaves dey know whar he is, and de woman she visit him. He had a den
down dere and plenty o' grub dey take 'im, but de white folks neber find
him. Five hundred dollars wus what Miller put out for whomsover git
him."
"And you say the woman went to visit him?"
"Yes, Ma'm. De woman would go dere in de woods wid him. Finally one
night when he was outer de swamp he had to lie hidin' in de ditch all
night, cross from de nigger hospital. Den somebody crep' up and shot
him, but he didn't die den. Dey cay'ed his [TR: sic] crost to de
hospital and he die three days later."
"What about church? Did you go to church in those days?"
"Yas'm, we used to go to town. But de padderolas wus ridin' in dem days,
and you couldn't go off de plantachun widout a pass. So my boss he build
a brick church on de plantachuhn, and de D'Laigles build a church on
dere's."
"What happened if they caught you off without a pass?"
"If you had no pass dey ca'y you to de Cote House, and your marster
hadder come git you out."
"Do you remember anything about the Yankees coming to this part of the
country?"
At this her manner became quite sprightly, as she replied, "Yas'm, I
seen 'em comin' down de street. Every one had er canteen on he side, a
blanket on his shoulder, caps cocked on one side de haid. De cavalry had
boots on and spurros on de boots. First dey sot de niggers free on Dead
River, den dey come on here to sot us free. Dey march straight up Broad
Street to de Planters' Hotel, den dey camped on Dead River, den dey
camped on de river. Dey stayed here six months till dey sot dis place
free. When dey campin' on de river bank we go down dere and wash dey
clo'es fer a good price. Dey had hard tack to eat. Dey gib us de hard
tack and tell us to soak it in Water, and fry it in de meat gravy. I
ain't taste nothing so good since. Dey say, 'Dis hard tack whut we
hadder lib on while we fightin' to sot you free."
RACHEL SULLIVAN, 1327 Reynolds Street, Augusta, Ga., Born 1852.
We found Rachel Sullivan sitting on the porch of a two room house on
Reynolds Street. She is a large, fleshy woman. Her handmade yellow
homespun was baggy and soiled, and her feet were bare, though her shoes
were beside her rocker.
We approached her cautiously. "Auntie, we heard you were one of the
slaves who used to live on Governor Pickens' place over near Edgefield."
"Yas'm, Yas'm. I shore wus. He gin us our chu'ch--de one over yonder on
de Edgefield road. No'm you can't see it fum de road. You has to cross
de creek. Old Marster had it pulled out de low ground under de brush
arbor, and set it dere."
"And what did you do on the plantation, Auntie?"
"I wus a nu's gal, 'bout 'leben years old. I nu'sed my Auntie's chillun,
while she nu'sed de lady's baby whut come from Russia wid de Marster's
wife--nu'sed dat baby fum de breas's I mean. All de white ladies had wet
nusses in dem days. Her master had just returned from Russia, where he
had been ambassador. Her baby had the czarina for a godmother."
"And so you used to look after you aunt's children?"
"Yas'm. I used to play wid 'em in de big ground wid de monuments all
around."
"Miss Lucy Holcome was Governor Pickens' second wife, wasn't she?"
"Musta wus, ma'm."
"And were you born on the plantation at Edgefield?"
"I wus born at Ninety-six. Log Creek place was Marster's second place.
Oh, he had plantachuns everywhere, clear over to Alabama. He had
overseers on all de places, ma'm."
"Did the overseers whip you or were they good?"
"Overseers wus good. Dey better been good to us, Marster wouldn't let
'em been nothin' else. And Marster wus good. Lawdy, us had de bes'
Marster in de world. It wus great times when he come to visit de
plantachun. Oh Lord, when de Governor would come--dey brung in all de
sarvants. Marster call us 'sarvants', not 'niggers.' He say 'niggers wuk
down in de lagoons.' So when de Governor come dey brung in all de
sarvants, and all de little chillun, line 'em's up whar Marster's
cai'age gwine pass. And Marster stop dere in de lane and 'zamine us all
to see is us all right. He de bes' Marster in de world. I love his
grave!"
"Den he'd talk to de overseer. Dere was Emmanuel and Mr. DeLoach. He gib
'em a charge. Dey couldn't whup us or treat us mean."
"How many slaves did your Master have, Auntie?"
"Oh, I don't know 'xactly--over a thousand in all I reckon. He had
plantachuns clear over to Alabama. Marster wus a world manager! Lordy, I
luv my Marster. Dere wus 'bout seventy plower hands, and 'bout a hunnard
hoe hands."
"Did your master ever sell any of the slaves off his plantation?"
"No'm--not 'less dey did wrong. Three of 'em had chillun by de overseer,
Mr. Whitefield, and Marster put 'em on de block. No ma'm he wouldn't
tolerate dat. He say you keep de race pure. Lawdy, he made us lib right
in dem time."
"And what did he do to the overseer?"
"He sont him off--he sont him down to de low place."
"I guess you had plenty to eat in those good old days?"
"Oh, yes ma'm--dey's kill a hunnard hogs."
"And what kind of houses did you have?"
"Des like dis street--two rows facin' each odder, only dey wus log
houses."
"Did they have only one room?"
"Yas'm. But sometimes dey drap a shed room down if dere wus heap o'
chullun.'
"Did you have a good time at Christmas?"
"Oh yas'm. No matter where Marster wus--crost de water er ennywhere he
send us a barrel o' apples, and chestnuts--dey had chestnuts in dem
days--and boxes o' candy. He sont 'em to 'Manuel and Mr. DeLoach to gib
out."
"So your master would sometimes be across the water?"
"Lawdy, yas'm, he be dere somewhere in de back part o' de world. You see
he wus gov'nur. He knowed all de big people--Mr. Ben Tillman and all--he
was senetra."
"Auntie do you remember seeing any of the soldiers during the war?"
"Does I? Law honey! Dey come dere to de plantachun 'bout ten o'clock
after dey surrender. Oh and dey wus awful, some of 'em wid legs off or
arms off. De niggers took all de mules and put 'em down in de sand
field. Den dey took all de wimmens and put 'em in de chillun's house.
And dey lef' a guard dere to stand over 'em, and tell him not to git off
de foot. You know dey didn't want put no temptation in de way o' dem
soldiers."
"What kind of work did some of the slave women do?"
"Everything. I had a one-legged auntie--she was de seamster. She sew fum
one year end to de odder. Anodder auntie wus a loomer."
"And where did you go to church?"
"We went to de Salem Chu'ch. Yas'm we all go to chu'ch. Marster want us
to go to chu'ch. We sit on one side--so--and dey sit over dere. Dey wus
Methodis'. My mother was Methodis', but dey gib her her letter when
freedom come."
"How about dances, Auntie? Did they have dances and frolics?"
"Yassum, on Sadday night. But boys had to git a pass when dey go out or
de Padderola git 'em."
"So you had a happy time in those days, eh?"
"Lawdy, yas'm. If de world would done now like dey did den de world
wouldn't be in such a mess. I gwine on eighty-five, but I wish de young
ones wus raise now like I was raise. Marster taught us to do right."
"How many children have you?"
"I had 'leben--seben livin now." Then she laughed. "But I wus ole maid
when I git married."
"I wus twenty years old! In dem days all dey hadder do to git married
wus step over de broom."
"Step over the broom. Didn't your master have the preacher come and
marry you?"
"Lawdy, no'm. De broom wus de law!" Then she laughed. "Jus' say you
wanner be married and de couple git together 'fore witnesses and step
ober de broom."
"Do you remember when freedom came?"
"Lawdy yas'm. Mr. DeLoach come riding up to de plantachun in one o' dem
low-bellied ca'yages. He call to Jo and James--dem de boys what stay
round de house to bring wood and rake de grass and sich--he sont Jo and
Jim down to all de fields to tell all de hands to come up. Dey unhitch
de mules fum de plows and come wid de chains rattlin', and de cotton
hoers put dey hoes on dey shoulders--wid de blades shinin' in de sun,
and all come hurrying to hear what Mr. DeLoach want wid'em. Den he read
de freedom warrant to 'em. One man so upset he start runnin' and run
clear down to de riber and jump in."