JAMES BOLTON
Athens, Georgia
Written by:
Mrs. Sarah H. Hall
Federal Writers' Project
Residency 4
Athens, Georgia
Edited by:
Miss Maude Barragan
Residency 13
Augusta, Georgia
"It never was the same on our plantation atter we done laid Mistess
away," said James Bolton, 85 year old mulatto ex-slave. "I ain't never
forget when Mistess died--she had been so good to every nigger on our
plantation. When we got sick, Mistess allus had us tended to. The
niggers on our plantation all walked to church to hear her funeral
sermon and then walked to the graveyard to the buryin'."
James, shrivelled and wrinkled, with his bright eyes taking in
everything on one of his rare visits to town, seemed glad of the chance
to talk about slavery days. He spoke of his owner as "my employer" and
hastily corrected himself by saying, "I means, my marster."
"My employer, I means my marster, and my mistess, they was sho' all
right white folkses," he continued. "They lived in the big 'ouse. Hit
was all painted brown. I heard tell they was more'n 900 acres in our
plantation and lots of folkses lived on it. The biggest portion was
woods. My paw, he was name Whitfield Bolton and Liza Bolton was my maw.
Charlie, Edmund, Thomas and John Bolton was my brothers and I had one
sister, she was Rosa. We belonged to Marse Whitfield Bolton and we lived
on his plantation in Oglethorpe County near Lexington, not far from the
Wilkes County line.
"We stayed in a one room log cabin with a dirt floor. A frame made
outen pine poles was fastened to the wall to hold up the mattresses. Our
mattresses was made outen cotton bagging stuffed with wheat straw. Our
kivers was quilts made outen old clothes. Slave 'omens too old to work
in the fields made the quilts.
"Maw, she went up to the big house onc't a week to git the 'lowance or
vittles. They 'lowanced us a week's rations at a time. Hit were
generally hog meat, corn meal and sometimes a little flour. Maw, she
done our cookin' on the coals in the fireplace at our cabin. We had
plenty of 'possums and rabbits and fishes and sometimes we had wild
tukkeys and partidges. Slaves warn't spozen to go huntin' at night and
everybody know you can't ketch no 'possums 'ceppin' at night! Jus' the
same, we had plenty 'possums and nobody ax how we cotch 'em!" James
laughed and nodded. "Now, 'bout them rabbits! Slaves warn't 'lowed to
have no guns and no dogs of they own. All the dogs on our plantation
belonged to my employer--I means, to my marster, and he 'lowed us to use
his dogs to run down the rabbits. Nigger mens and boys 'ud go in crowds,
sometimes as many as twelve at one time, and a rabbit ain't got no
chance 'ginst a lot of niggers and dogs when they light out for to run
'im down!
"What wild critters we wanted to eat and couldn't run down, we was right
smart 'bout ketchin' in traps. We cotch lots of wild tukkeys and
partidges in traps and nets. Long Crick runned through our plantation
and the river warn't no fur piece off. We sho' did ketch the fishes,
mostly cats, and perch and heaps and heaps of suckers. We cotch our
fishes mos'n generally with hook and line, but the carpenters on our
plantation knowed how to make basket traps that sho' nuff did lay in
the fishes! God only knows how long it's been since this old nigger
pulled a big shad out of the river. Ain't no shads been cotch in the
river round here in so long I disremembers when!
"We didn' have no gardens of our own round our cabins. My employer--I
means, my marster--had one big gyarden for our whole plantation and all
his niggers had to work in it whensomever he wanted 'em to, then he give
'em all plenty good gyarden sass for theyselfs. They was collards and
cabbage and turnips and beets and english peas and beans and onions, and
they was allus some garlic for ailments. Garlic was mostly to cure wums
(worms). They roasted the garlic in the hot ashes and squez the juice
outen it and made the chilluns take it. Sometimes they made poultices
outen garlic for the pneumony.
"We saved a heap of bark from wild cherry and poplar and black haw and
slippery ellum trees and we dried out mullein leaves. They was all mixed
and brewed to make bitters. Whensomever a nigger got sick, them bitters
was good for--well ma'am, they was good for what ailed 'em! We tuk 'em
for rheumatiz, for fever, and for the misery in the stummick and for
most all sorts of sickness. Red oak bark tea was good for sore throat.
"I never seed no store bought clothes twel long atter freedom done come!
One slave 'oman done all the weavin' in a separate room called the 'loom
house.' The cloth was dyed with home-made coloring. They used indigo for
blue, red oak bark for brown, green husks offen warnicks (walnuts) for
black, and sumacs for red and they'd mix these colors to make other
colors. Other slave 'omans larned to sew and they made all the clothes.
Endurin' the summertime we jus' wore shirts and pants made outen plain
cotton cloth. They wove wool in with the cotton to make the cloth for
our winter clothes. The wool was raised right thar on our plantation. We
had our own shoemaker man--he was a slave named Buck Bolton and he made
all the shoes the niggers on our plantation wore.
"I waren't nothin' but chillun when freedom come. In slavery-time
chilluns waren't 'lowed to do no wuk kazen the marsters wanted they
niggers to grow up big and strong and didn' want 'em stunted none. Tha's
howcome I didn' git no mo' beatin's than I did! My employer--I means, my
marster, never did give me but one lickin'. He had done told me to watch
the cows and keep 'em in the pastur'. I cotch lots of grasshoppers and
started fishin' in the crick runnin' through the pastur' and fust thing
I knowed, the overseer was roundin' up all the other niggers to git the
cows outen the cornfields! I knowed then my time had done come!"
James was enjoying the spotlight now, and his audience did not have to
prompt him. Plantation recollections crowded together in his old mind.
"We had one overseer at a time," he said, "and he allus lived at the big
'ouse. The overseers warn't quality white folkses like our marster and
mistess but we never heard nuffin' 'bout no poor white trash in them
days, and effen we had heard sumpin' like that we'd have knowed better'n
to let Marster hear us make such talk! Marster made us call his overseer
'Mister.' We had one overseer named Mr. Andrew Smith and another time
we had a overseer named Mr. Pope Short. Overseers was jus' there on the
business of gettin' the work done--they seed atter everybody doin' his
wuk 'cordin' to order.
"My employer--I means, my marster, never 'lowed no overseer to whup none
of his niggers! Marster done all the whuppin' on our plantation hisself.
He never did make no big bruises and he never drawed no blood, but he
sho' could burn 'em up with that lash! Niggers on our plantation was
whupped for laziness mostly. Next to that, whuppings was for stealin'
eggs and chickens. They fed us good and plenty but a nigger is jus'
bound to pick up chickens and eggs effen he kin, no matter how much he
done eat! He jus' can't help it. Effen a nigger ain't busy he gwine to
git into mischief!
"Now and then slaves 'ud run away and go in the woods and dig dens and
live in 'em. Sometimes they runned away on 'count of cruel treatment,
but most of the time they runned away kazen they jus' didn't want to
wuk, and wanted to laze around for a spell. The marsters allus put the
dogs atter 'em and git 'em back. They had black and brown dogs called
'nigger hounds' what waren't used for nothin' but to track down niggers.
"They waren't no such place as a jail whar we was. Effen a nigger done
sumpin' disorderly they jus' natcherly tuk a lash to 'im. I ain't never
seed no nigger in chains twel long atter freedom done come when I seed
'em on the chain gangs.
"The overseer woke us up at sunrise--leas'n they called it sunrise! We
would finish our vittles and be in the fields ready for wuk befo' we
seed any sun! We laid off wuk at sunset and they didn't drive us hard.
Leas'wise, they didn' on our plantation. I done heard they was moughty
hard on 'em on other plantations. My marster never did 'low his niggers
to wuk atter sundown. My employer, I means my marster, didn't have no
bell. He had 'em blow bugles to wake up his hands and to call 'em from
the fields. Sometimes the overseer blowed it. Mistess done larned the
cook to count the clock, but none of the rest of our niggers could count
the clock.
"I never knowed Marster to sell but one slave and he jus' had bought her
from the market at New Orleans. She say it lonesome off on the
plantation and axed Marster for to sell her to folkses livin' in town.
Atter he done sold her, every time he got to town she beg 'im to buy her
back! But he didn' pay her no more 'tention. When they had sales of
slaves on the plantations they let everybody know what time the sale
gwine to be. When the crowd git togedder they put the niggers on the
block and sell 'em. Leas'wise, they call it 'puttin' on the block'--they
jus' fotch 'em out and show 'em and sell 'em.
"They waren't no church for niggers on our plantation and we went to
white folkses church and listened to the white preachers. We set behind
a partition. Sometimes on a plantation a nigger claim he done been
called to preach and effen he kin git his marster's cawn-sent he kin
preach round under trees and in cabins when t'aint wuk time. These
nigger preachers in slavery time was called 'chairbackers.' They waren't
no chairbackers 'lowed to baptize none of Marster's niggers. White
preachers done our baptizin' in Long Crick. When we went to be baptized
they allus sang, 'Amazing Grace! How sweet the sound!'"
The old negro's quavery voice rose in the familiar song. For a moment he
sat thinking of those long-ago Sundays. His eyes brightened again, and
he went on:
"We never done no wuk on Sundays on our plantation. The church was 'bout
nine miles from the plantation and we all walked there. Anybody too old
and feeble to walk the nine miles jus' stayed home, kazen Marster didn't
'low his mules used none on Sunday. All along the way niggers from other
plantations 'ud jine us and sometimes befo' we git to the church house
they'd be forty or fifty slaves comin' along the road in a crowd!
Preaching generally lasted twel bout three o'clock. In summertime we had
dinner on the ground at the church. Howsomever we didn' have no barbecue
like they does now. Everybody cooked enough on Sadday and fotched it in
baskets.
"I was thirty years old when I jined the church. Nobody ought to jine no
church twels't he is truly borned of God, and effen he is truly borned
of God he gwine know it. Effen you want a restin' place atter you leaves
this old world you ought to git ready for it now!
"When folkses on our plantation died Marster allus let many of us as
wanted to go, lay offen wuk twel atter the buryin'. Sometimes it were
two or three months atter the buryin' befo' the funeral sermon was
preached. Right now I can't rekelleck no song we sung at funerals cep'n
'Hark from the tombs a doleful sound.'"
The reedy old voice carried the funeral hymn for a few minutes and then
trailed off. James was thinking back into the past again.
"Spring plowin' and hoein' times we wukked all day Saddays, but mos'en
generally we laid off wuk at twelve o'clock Sadday. That was dinnertime.
Sadday nights we played and danced. Sometimes in the cabins, sometimes
in the yards. Effen we didn' have a big stack of fat kindling wood lit
up to dance by, sometimes the mens and 'omans would carry torches of
kindling wood whils't they danced and it sho' was a sight to see! We
danced the 'Turkey Trot' and 'Buzzard Lope', and how we did love to
dance the 'Mary Jane!' We would git in a ring and when the music started
we would begin wukkin' our footses while we sang 'You steal my true love
and I steal your'n!'
"Atter supper we used to gether round and knock tin buckets and pans, we
beat 'em like drums. Some used they fingers and some used sticks for to
make the drum sounds and somebody allus blowed on quills. Quills was a
row of whistles made outen reeds, or sometimes they made 'em outen bark.
Every whistle in the row was a different tone and you could play any
kind of tune you wants effen you had a good row of quills. They sho' did
sound sweet!
"'Bout the most fun we had was at corn shuckin's whar they put the corn
in long piles and called in the folkses from the plantations nigh round
to shuck it. Sometimes four or five hunnert head of niggers 'ud be
shuckin' corn at one time. When the corn all done been shucked they'd
drink the likker the marsters give 'em and then frolic and dance from
sundown to sunup. We started shuckin' corn 'bout dinnertime and tried to
finish by sundown so we could have the whole night for frolic. Some
years we 'ud go to ten or twelve corn shuckin's in one year!
"We would sing and pray Easter Sunday and on Easter Monday we frolicked
and danced all day long! Christmas we allus had plenty good sumpin' to
eat and we all got togedder and had lots of fun. We runned up to the big
'ouse early Christmas mornin' and holler out: 'Mornin', Christmas Gif'!'
Then they'd give us plenty of Sandy Claus and we would go back to our
cabins to have fun twel New Year's day. We knowed Christmas was over and
gone when New Year's day come, kazen we got back to wuk that day atter
frolickin' all Christmas week.
"We didn' know nuttin' 'bout games to play. We played with the white
folkses chilluns and watched atter 'em but most of the time we played in
the crick what runned through the pastur'. Nigger chilluns was allus
skeered to go in the woods atter dark. Folkses done told us
Raw-Head-and-Bloody Bones lived in the woods and git little chilluns and
eat 'em up effen they got out in the woods atter dark!
"'Rockabye baby in the tree trops' was the onliest song I heard my maw
sing to git her babies to sleep. Slave folkses sung most all the time
but we didn' think of what we sang much. We jus' got happy and started
singin'. Sometimes we 'ud sing effen we felt sad and lowdown, but soon
as we could, we 'ud go off whar we could go to sleep and forgit all
'bout trouble!" James nodded his gray head with a wise look in his
bright eyes. "When you hear a nigger singin' sad songs hit's jus' kazen
he can't stop what he is doin' long enough to go to sleep!"
The laughter that greeted this sally brought an answering grin to the
wrinkled old face. Asked about marriage customs, James said:
"Folkses didn' make no big to-do over weddings like they do now. When
slaves got married they jus' laid down the broom on the floor and the
couple jined hands and jumped back-uds over the broomstick. I done seed
'em married that way many a time. Sometimes my marster would fetch
Mistess down to the slave quarters to see a weddin'. Effen the slaves
gittin' married was house servants, sometimes they married on the back
porch or in the back yard at the big 'ouse but plantation niggers what
was field hands married in they own cabins. The bride and groom jus'
wore plain clothes kazen they didn' have no more.
"When the young marsters and mistesses at the big houses got married
they 'lowed the slaves to gadder on the porch and peep through the
windows at the weddin'. Mos'en generally they 'ud give the young couple
a slave or two to take with them to they new home. My marster's chilluns
was too young to git married befo' the war was over. They was seven of
them chilluns; four of 'em was gals.
"What sort of tales did they tell 'mongs't the slaves 'bout the Norf
befo' the war? To tell the troof, they didn't talk much like they does
now 'bout them sort of things. None of our niggers ever runned away and
we didn' know nuthin' 'bout no Norf twel long atter freedom come. We
visited round each other's cabins at night. I did hear tell 'bout the
patterollers. Folkses said effen they cotched niggers out at night they
'ud give 'em 'what Paddy give the drum'.
"Jus' befo' freedom comed 'bout 50 Yankee sojers come through our
plantation and told us that the bull-whups and cow-hides was all dead
and buried. Them sojers jus' passed on in a hurry and didn' stop for a
meal or vittles or nuffin'. We didn't talk much 'bout Mr. Abbieham
Lincum endurin' slavery time kazen we was skeered of him atter the war
got started. I don't know nothin' 'bout Mr. Jef'son Davis, I don't
remember ever hearin' 'bout him. I is heard about Mr. Booker Washin'ton
and they do say he runned a moughty good school for niggers.
"One mornin' Marster blowed the bugle his own self and called us all up
to the big 'ouse yard. He told us: 'You all jus' as free as I is. You
are free from under the taskmarster but you ain't free from labor. You
gotter labor and wuk hard effen you aims to live and eet and have
clothes to wear. You kin stay here and wuk for me, or you kin go
wharsomever you please.' He said he 'ud pay us what was right, and Lady,
hit's the troof, they didn't nary a nigger on our plantation leave our
marster then! I wukked on with Marster for 40 years atter the war!"
James had no fear of the Ku Klux.
"Right soon atter the war we saw plenty of Ku Kluxers but they never
bothered nobody on our plantation. They allus seemed to be havin' heaps
of fun. 'Course, they did have to straighten out some of them brash
young nigger bucks on some of the other farms round about. Mos' of the
niggers the Ku Kluxers got atter was'n on no farm, but was jus' roamin'
'round talkin' too much and makin' trouble. They had to take 'em in hand
two or three times befo' some of them fool free niggers could be larned
to behave theyselfs! But them Ku Kluxers kept on atter 'em twels't they
larned they jus got to be good effen they 'spects to stay round here.
"Hit was about 40 years atter the war befo' many niggers 'gun to own
they own lan'. They didn' know nothin' 'bout tendin' to money business
when the war done ended and it take 'em a long time to larn how to buy
and sell and take care of what they makes." James shook his head sadly.
"Ma'am, heaps of niggers ain't never larned nothin' 'bout them things
yit!
"A long time atter the war I married Lizy Yerby. I didn' give Liza no
chanc't for to dress up. Jus' went and tuk her right outer the white
folkses' kitchen and married her at the church in her workin' clothes.
We had 13 chilluns but they ain't but two of 'em livin' now. Mos' of our
chilluns died babies. Endurin' slavery Mistess tuk care of all the
nigger babies borned on our plantations and looked atter they mammies
too, but atter freedom come heap of nigger babies died out."
James said he had two wives, both widows.
"I married my second wife 37 years ago. To tell the troof, I don't
rightly know how many grandchilluns I got, kazen I ain't seed some of
'em for thirty years. My chilluns is off fum here and I wouldn' know to
save my life whar they is or what they does. My sister and brothers they
is done dead out what ain't gone off, I don't know for sho' whar none of
'em is now."
A sigh punctuated James' monologue, and his old face was shadowed by a
look of fear.
"Now I gwine tell you the troof. Now that it's all over I don't find
life so good in my old age, as it was in slavery time when I was chillun
down on Marster's plantation. Then I didn' have to worry 'bout whar my
clothes and my somepin' to eat was comin' from or whar I was gwine to
sleep. Marster tuk keer of all that. Now I ain't able for to wuk and
make a livin' and hit's sho' moughty hard on this old nigger."
ALEC BOSTWICK
Ex-Slave--Age 76
[TR: Preceding page that would usually contain information regarding the
interview was marked 'Placeholder'.]
All of Uncle Alec Bostwick's people are dead and he lives in his tiny
home with a young Negress named Emma Vergal. It was a beautiful April
morning when his visitor arrived and while he was cordial enough he
seemed very reluctant about talking. However, as one question followed
another his interest gradually overcame his hesitancy and he began to
unfold his life's story.
"I wuz born in Morgan County, an' I warn't mo' dan four year old when de
War ended so I don't ricollect nothin' 'bout slav'ry days. I don't know
much 'bout my ma, but her name was Martha an' pa's name was Jordan
Bostwick, I don't know whar dey come from. When I knowed nothin' I wuz
dar on de plantation. I had three brothers; George, John an' Reeje, an'
dey's all dead. I dis'members my sister's name. Dar warn't but one gal
an' she died when she wuz little.
"Ain't much to tell 'bout what wuz done in de quarters. Slaves wuz
gyarded all de time jus' lak Niggers on de chain gang now. De overseer
always sot by wid a gun.
"'Bout de beds, Nigger boys didn't pay no 'tention to sich as dat 'cause
all dey keered 'bout wuz a place to sleep but 'peers lak to me dey wuz
corded beds, made wid four high posties, put together wid iron pegs, an'
holes what you run de cords thoo', bored in de sides. De cords wuz made
out of b'ar grass woun' tight together. Dey put straw an' old quilts on
'em, an' called 'em beds.
"Gran'pa Berry wuz too old to wuk in de field so he stayed 'roun' de
house an' piddled. He cut up wood, tended to de gyarden an' yard, an'
bottomed chairs. Gran'ma Liza done de cookin' an' nussed de white
folkses chilluns.
"I wukked in de field 'long side da rest of de Niggers, totin' water an'
sich lak, wid de overseer dar all de time wid dat gun.
"What you talkin' 'bout Miss? Us didn't have no money. Sho' us didn't.
Dey had to feed us an' plenty of it, 'cause us couldn't wuk if dey
didn't feed us good.
"Us et cornbread, sweet 'tatoes, peas, home-made syrup an' sich lak. De
meat wuz fried sometimes, but mos' of de time it wuz biled wid de
greens. All de somethin' t'eat wuz cooked in de fireplace. Dey didn't
know what stoves wuz in dem days. Yes Ma'am, us went 'possum huntin' at
night, an' us had plenty 'possums too. Dey put sweet 'tatoes an' fat
meat roun' 'em, an' baked 'em in a oven what had eyes on each side of it
to put hooks in to take it off de fire wid.
"No Ma'am, us didn't go fishin', or rabbit huntin' nuther. Us had to wuk
an' warn't no Nigger 'lowed to do no frolickin' lak dat in daytime. De
white folkses done all de fishin' an' daytime huntin'. I don't 'member
lakin' no sartin' somethin'. I wuz jus' too glad to git anythin'. Slaves
didn't have no gyardens of dey own. Old Marster had one big gyarden what
all de slaves et out of.
"Tell you 'bout our clo'es: us wore home-made clo'es, pants an' shirts
made out of cotton in summer an' in de winter dey give us mo' home-made
clo'es only dey wuz made of wool. All de clawf wuz made on de loom right
dar on de plantation. Us wore de same things on Sunday what us did in de
week, no diffunt. Our shoes wuz jus' common brogans what dey made at
home. I ain't seed no socks 'til long atter de War. Co'se some folkses
mought a had 'em, but us didn't have none.
"Marster Berry Bostwick an' Mist'ess Mary Bostwick, had a passel of
chillun, I don't 'member none 'cept young Marse John. De others drifted
off an' didn't come back, but young Marse John stayed on wid Old Marster
an' Old Mist'ess 'til dey died. Old Marster, he warn't good. Truth is de
light, an' he wuz one mean white man. Old Mist'ess wuz heaps better dan
him. Dar wuz 'bout 150 mens an' 75 'omans. I couldn't keep up wid de
chilluns. Dere wuz too many for me.
"Marster an' Mist'ess lived in a big fine house, but de slave quarters
wuz made of logs, 'bout de size of box cyars wid two rooms.
"'Bout dat overseer he wuz a mean man, if one ever lived. He got de
slaves up wid a gun at five o'clock an' wukked 'em 'til way atter
sundown, standin' right over 'em wid a gun all de time. If a Nigger
lagged or tuk his eyes off his wuk, right den an' dar he would make him
strip down his clo'es to his waist, an' he whup him wid a cat-o-nine
tails. Evvy lick dey struck him meant he wuz hit nine times, an' it
fotch da red evvy time it struck.
"Oh! Yes Ma'am, dey had a cyar'iage driver, he didn't do much 'cept look
attar de hawses an' drive de white folkses 'roun'.
"I done tole you 'bout dat overseer; all he done wuz sot 'roun' all day
wid a gun an' make de Niggers wuk. But I'se gwine tell you de trufe, he
sho' wuz poor white trash wid a house full of snotty-nose chilluns. Old
Marster tole him he wuz jus' lak a rabbit, he had so many chillun. I
means dis; if dem days comes back I hope de good Lord takes me fus'.
"Dey had a house whar dey put de Niggers, what wuz called de gyard
house, an' us didn't know nothin' 'bout no jail dat day an' time. I seed
'em drive de Niggers by old Marster's place in droves takin' 'em to
Watkinsville. Morgan County, whar us lived, touched Oconee an' dat wuz
the nighes' town. One day I went wid old Marster to Watkinsville an' I
seed 'em sell Niggers on de block. I warn't sold. When I knowed nothin'
I wuz right whar I wuz at.
"No Ma'am, dey warn't no schools for de Niggers in dem days. If a Nigger
wuz seed wid a paper, de white folks would pretty nigh knock his head
off him.
"Us didn't have no church in de country for Niggers, an' dey went to
church wid deir white folkses, if dey went a tall. De white folks sot in
front, an' de Niggers sot in de back. All de time dat overseer wuz right
dar wid his gun. When dey baptized de Niggers dey tuk 'em down to de
river and plunged 'em in, while dem what had done been baptized sang:
"Dar's a Love Feast in Heb'en Today."
"Yes Ma'am, de white folkses had deir cemetery, an' dey had one for de
slaves. When dere wuz a funeral 'mong de Niggers us sung:
'Dark was de night
And cold was de groun'
Whar my Marster was laid
De drops of sweat
Lak blood run down
In agony He prayed.'
"Dem coffins sho' wuz mournful lookin' things, made out of pine boa'ds
an' painted wid lampblack; dey wuz black as de night. Dey wuz big at de
head an' little at de foot, sort a lak airplanes is. De inside wuz lined
wid white clawf, what dey spun on de plantation.
"De patterollers wuz right on dey job. Slaves use' to frame up on 'em if
dey knowed whar dey wuz hidin', 'waitin' to cotch a Nigger. Dey would
git hot ashes an' dash over 'em, an' dem patterollers dey sho' would
run, but de slaves would git worse dan dat, if dey was cotched.
"Miss, in slav'ry time when Niggers come from de fields at night dey
warn't no frolickin'. Dey jus' went to sleep. De mens wukked all day
Sadday, but de 'omans knocked off at twelve o'clock to wash an' sich
lak.
"Christmas times dey give us a week off an' brung us a little candy an'
stuff 'roun'. Not much, not much. On New Year's Day us had to git back
on de job.
"Chilluns what wuz big enough to wuk didn't have time in week days to
play no games on Marse Bostwick's place. On Sunday us played wid marbles
made out of clay, but dat's all. I heered my ma sing a little song to de
baby what soun' lak dis:
'Hush little baby
Don't you cry
You'll be an angel
Bye-an'-bye.'
"Yes Ma'am, dere wuz one thing dey wuz good 'bout. When de Niggers got
sick dey sont for de doctor. I heered 'em say dey biled jimson weeds an'
made tea for colds, an' rhubarb tea wuz to cure worms in chillun. I wuz
too young to be bothered 'bout witches an' charms, Rawhead an' Bloody
Bones an' sich. I didn't take it in.
"When de Yankees come thoo' an' 'lowed us wuz free, us thought dey wuz
jus' dem patterollers, an' us made for de woods. Dey tole us to come
out, dat us wuz free Niggers. Marster Berry said: 'You dam Niggers am
free. You don't b'long to me no more.'
"Us married long time atter de War, an' us had a little feast: cake,
wine, fried chicken, an' ham, an' danced 'til 'mos' daybreak. I 'members
how good she looked wid dat pretty dove colored dress, all trimmed wid
lace. Us didn't have no chillun. She wuz lak a tree what's sposen to
bear fruit an' don't. She died 'bout thirteen years ago.
"When de Ku Kluxers come thoo', us chillun thought de devil wuz atter us
for sho'. I wuz sich a young chap I didn't take in what dey said 'bout
Mr. Abyham Lincoln, an' Mr. Jeff Davis. Us would a been slaves 'til yit,
if Mr. Lincoln hadn't sot us free. Dey wuz bofe of 'em, good mens. I
sho' had ruther be free. Who wants a gun over 'em lak a prisoner? A
pusson is better off dead.
"I jined de church 'cause dis is a bad place at de bes' an' dere's so
many mean folkses, what's out to seem good an' ain't. An' if you serve
God in de right way, I'se sho' when you die he'll give you a place to
rest for evermore. An' 'cordin' to my notion dat's de way evvybody
oughta live."
In conclusion, Alec said: "I don't want to talk no more. I'se
disappointed, I thought sho' you wuz one of dem pension ladies what come
for to fetch me some money. I sho' wish dey would come. Good-bye Miss."
Then he hobbled into the house.
Barragan-Harris
[TR: Miss Maude Barragan (interviewer), Mrs. Leila Harris (editor)]