SLAVE TIME CUSTOMS ON THE PLANTATION
OF THOMAS ANDERSON CARLISLE.
"Cap', my old Master's daughter, Mrs. George Perrin (Ida Rice) and Miss
Peake (Mrs. Keitt Peake) 'lows I is done pas' 84. Miss Ida was 84 when
she died and I was allus mo' older dan she was, and a long ways at dat.
I allus figers dat Ah is 97. Miss Agnes (Mrs. Keitt Peake) and Miss Ida
was lil' gals when I driv' dem to and from school ever' day fer ole
Marse. You see I had to be a big boy to drive de Marse's chilluns to
school, 'specially when dey was lil' gals! I is a great deal older than
Mr. Bill Harris. I met him dis mornin' wid sweet 'tater in his pocket.
He 'lowed, 'Gus, you is jes' 'bout de oldes' nigger in dis county, ain't
you?' I raised my hat to 'im and 'lowed, Yessir, guess I is, Cap.
"Had to stay out and guard de silver and de gold jewels in de pines when
my white folks hid it dar to keep de Yankees from a-gittin' it. Dey
driv' de waggins in de pines and us unload de jewels and things and den
dey would drive de waggins out de wood. When de waggin done got plum
away us would take dry pine needles and kivver up all de waggin tracks
and hoof prints after us had done raked de dirt smooth over dem. We
stayed wid de silver and stuff and drink coffee and eat black crus'; dat
de sweetnin' bread dat us had durin' de war. Couldn't git no sugar den.
Sometime we used sassafras tea as we never had no coffee to grind. De
white folks was jes' as bad off as we was. From de big house dey brung
our mess of vittals after dark had done fell.
"Poke salad was et in dem days to clean a feller out. Hit cum up tender
every spring and when it cut deep down in sand it looked white. It's an
herb. Cut it; wash it and par boil; pour off water and ball up in balls
in your hand; put in frying pan of hot grease (grease from ham or strip
meat) and fry. Season with black pepper and salt and eat with new spring
onions. Tender white stems are better than the salad and of course
earlier. Ash cake was good wid poke salad and clabber or butter milk and
best of all was sweet milk! Dat not only fill up your belly, but make
you fat and strong.
"Sometime de darkies would eat too much and git de colic. Fer dis dey
would take and chaw pine needles and it would be all over wid den. On
all de plantations dar was old womens, too old to do any work and dey
would take and study what to do fer de ailments of grown folks and lil'
chilluns. Fer de lil' chilluns and babies dey would take and chaw up
pine needles and den spit it in de lil' chilluns mouths and make dem
swallow. Den when dey was a teachin' de babies to eat dey done de food
de very same way. Dem old wimmens made pine rosin pills from de pine
rosin what drapped from de pine trees and give de pills to de folks to
take fer de back ache. Dey allus kept de pine trees gashed fer dis
purpose. Den day also gashed de sweet gum fer to git gum to chaw.
'Twasn't no sech thing as chawin' gum till thirty years ago. Sweet gum,
it's good fer de indigestion and fer de toofies, when it don't git yer
mouth all stuck so as you can't say nothing. I 'spects dat de chief
reason how come it done gone plum out o' date. I most fergot to inform
you dat resin pills is still de best thing dat I knows to start your
"water" off when it done stopped on ye.
"It was a special day on each plantation when de Master and de o'seer
give out de week's rations, like dis: Four pounds o' bacon; one peck o'
meal; quart o' flour; quart o' molasses;--dey was dat black; and dey was
de rations fer a whole endurin' week. Had a big choppin' block where all
de meat was chopped on. In dem days every bit o' de meat was raised on
de plantation from de Master's hogs. Into de grooves o' dis choppin'
block would git lodged small pieces o' meat. Choppin' ax was heavy and
broad. Heavy rations come out on Friday. On Sad'day come de shoulder
meat fer Sunday mornin' brekfas' and de flour come on Sad'day also. Our
Master give us hominy fer Sunday mornin' brekfas', kaise us had red meat
wid gravy den. My Master was Marse' Tom Carlisle of Goshen Hill. He de
one give us dem Sunday specials. De niggers on de other surroundin'
plantations never got no sech 'sideration as I ever heard of.
"Me and John minded de Missus' cows. When de red meat choppin' was done
all de plantation chilluns would be dar to git what fall in de grooves
o' de blocks. One day John 'lowed to me if you puts your ol' black hand
on dat block 'fore I does today, I is a gwine to chop it off. I never
said nary a word, but I jes' roll my eyes at him. I got dar and broke
and run fer de block. I got big piece and when John come up I was eating
it. I say, Nigger, you is too late and lazy fer anything. 'Bout that
time he reach over fer a scrap I never seed. I push him back and reach
fer hit. John took up de choppin' ax and come right down on my finger,
'fore I could git it out de way. Dat's why you see dis scar here now.
Dat nigger lay my finger plum wide open, fact is dat he jes' left it a
hangin'. Marse's doctor and he fix it back. Den he whip John hisself;
never 'low de overseer to do it dat time. Marse Tom pretty good to us;
never whip much; never 'low de overseer, Mr. Wash Evans, to whip too
much neither. He would have liked to whip mo' dan he did, if de Marse
would 'lowed it, but he wasn't so bad. Mr. Evans wasn't no po' white
trash, but he was kinder middlin' like. De Evans is done riz high up
now.
"Newt and Anderson was my young marsters. Dey was 'long 'bout my own
age. Dey went to school at Goshen Hill. De school was near de store,
some folks called it de tradin' post in dem days. De had barrels o'
liquor settin' out from de store in a long row. Sold de likker to de
rich mens dat carried on at de race track near by. Folks in Goshen was
all rich in dem days. Rogers Church, where de Carlisles, Jeters, Sims,
Selbys, Glens, and lots of other folks went too and de slaves, was de
richest country church in dis part o' de whole state, so I is often been
told. Ebenezer, over in Maybinton, was de onliest church in de whole
country dat tried to strive wid Rogers in de way o' finery and style. De
Hendersons, Maybins, Hardys, Douglasses, Cofields, Chicks and Oxners
was de big folks over dar. Both de churches was Methodist.
"Every summer de carried on Camp Meetin' at Rogers. All de big Methodist
preachers would come from way off den. Dey was entertained in de
Carlisle big house. Missus put on de dog (as de niggers says now) den.
Every thing was cleaned up jes' 'fore de meetin' like us did fer de
early-spring cleanin'. Camp Meetin' come jes' after de craps was done
laid by. Den all craps was done laid by befo' July de Fourth. It was
unheard of fer anybody to let de Fourth come widout de craps out'n de
way. Times is done changed now, Lawd. Den de fields was heavy wid corn
head high and cotton up aroun' de darky's waist! Grass was all cleaned
out o' de furrow's on de las' go 'round. De fields and even de terraces
was put in 'apple pie' order fer de gatherin' o' de craps in de fall.
"As you all knows de Fourth has allus been nigger day. Marse and Missus
had good rations fer us early on de Fourth. Den us went to barbecues
after de mornin' chores was done. In dem days de barbecues was usually
held on de plantation o' Marse Jim Hill in Fish Dam. Dat was not fer
from Goshen. Marse Jim had a purty spring dat is still all walled up wid
fine rocks. De water come out'n dese rocks dat cold dat you can't hold
your hand in it fer more dan a minute at de longes'. Dar is a big flat
rock beyond de spring dat I 'specs kivvers more dan an acre and a half
o' ground. A creek run along over dis rock, where de mules and de hosses
could rest in de shade of de trees and drink all de water dat de
wanted. Wild ferns growed waist high along dar den. All kinds of purty
flowers and daisies was gathered by de gals. Dem was de best days dat
any darky has ever seed. Never had nothing to aggravate your mind den.
Plenty to eat; plenty to wear; plenty wood to burn; good house to live
in; and no worry 'bout where it was a-coming from!
"Old Marse he give us de rations fer de barbecues. Every master wanted
his darkies to be thought well of at de barbecues by de darkies from all
de other plantations. De had pigs barbecued; goats; and de Missus let de
wimmen folks bake pies, cakes and custards fer de barbecue, jes' 'zactly
like hit was fer de white folks barbecue deself!
"Young ones carried on like young colts a-frolicin' in de pasture till
dey had done got so full o' vittles dat dey could not eat another bite.
Den dey roamed on off and set down somewheres to sleep in de shade o' de
trees. When de sun started to going down den de old folks begin to git
ready to return back to dey home plantations, fer dar was de master's
stock and chickens to feed and put up fer de night, to say nothing o' de
cows to milk. The master's work had to go on around de big house, kaise
all de darkies had been 'lowed to have such a pleasant day. Next day
being Sad'day was on dis occasion not only ration day, but de day to git
ready fer de white folks' Camp Meetin' which I has already called to
recollection several times.
"I has to drap back to my own plantation now; kaise I guesses dat de
same [TN: 'same' was crossed out in the original] thing took place on all
de neighborin' places in preparation fer de white folks 'big Meetin'.
But I better confine my relations to dat what I really knows. At de
barbecue I seed niggers from several neighborin' plantations and I can
tell you 'bout dat. But I draps now to de doings o' my own white folks.
"As I has said once, de fields was in lay-by shape and de Missus done
already got de house cleaned. De chilluns was put in one room to sleep
and dat make more room fer de preachers and guests dat gwine to visit in
de big house fer de nex' six weeks. Den de plans fer cooking had to be
brung 'bout. Dey never had no ice in dem days as you well knows; but us
had a dry well under our big house. It was deep and everything keep real
cool down dar. Steps led down into it, and it allus be real dark down
dar. De rats run aroun' down dar and de younguns skeert to go down fer
anything. So us carry a lightwood not [HW: knot] fer light when us put
anything in it or take anything out. Dar ain't no need fer me to tell
you 'bout de well house where us kept all de milk and butter, fer it was
de talk o' de country 'bout what nice fresh milk and butter de missus
allus had. A hollow oak log was used fer de milk trough. Three times a
day Cilla had her lil' boy run fresh cool well water all through de
trough. Dat keep de milk from gwine to whey and de butter fresh and
cool. In de dry well was kept de canned things and dough to set till it
had done riz. When company come like dey allus did fer de camp meetings,
shoalts and goats and maybe a sheep or lamb or two was kilt fer barbecue
out by Cilla's cabin. Dese carcasses was kept down in de dry well over
night and put over de pit early de next morning after it had done took
salt. Den dar was a big box kivvered wid screen wire dat victuals was
kept in in de dry well. Dese boxes was made rat proof.
"Whilst de meats fer de company table was kept barbecued out in de yard,
de cakes, pies, breads, and t'other fixings was done in de kitchen out
in de big house yard. Baskets had ter be packed to go to camp meetin'.
Tables was built up at Rogers under de big oak trees dat has all been
cut down now. De tables jes' groaned and creeked and sighed wid victuals
at dinner hour every day durin' de camp meetin'.
"Missus fetch her finest linens and silver and glasses to out-shine dem
brung by de t'other white folks o' quality. In dem days de white folks
o' quality in Union most all come from Goshen Hill and Fish Dam. After
de white folks done et all dey could hold den de slaves what had done
come to church and to help wid de tables and de carriages would have de
dinner on a smaller table over clost to de spring. Us had table cloths
on our table also and us et from de kitchen china and de kitchen silver.
"Young gals couldn't eat much in public, kaise it ain't stylish fer
young courting gals to let on like dey has any appetite to speak of. I
sees dat am a custom dat still goes amongst de wimmen folks, not to eat,
so heavy. Cullud gals tried to do jes' like de young white missus would
do.
"After everything was done eat it would be enough to pack up and fetch
back home to feed all de hungry niggers what roams roun' here in Union
now. Dem was de times when everybody had 'nuff to eat and more dan dey
wanted and plenty clothes to wear!
"During de preaching us darkies sot in de back o' de church. Our white
folks had some benches dar dat didn't nobody set on 'cept de slaves. Us
wore de best clo'es dat us had. De Marse give us a coat and a hat and
his sons give all de old hats and coats 'round. Us wore shirts and pants
made from de looms. Us kept dem clean't and ironed jes' like de Marster
and de young marsters done their'n. Den us wore a string tie, dat de
white folks done let us have, to church. Dat 'bout de onliest time dat a
darky was seed wid a tie. Some de oldest men even wore a cravat, dat dey
had done got from de old marster. Us combed our hair on Sunday fer
church. But us never bothered much wid it no other time. During slavery
some o' de old men had short plaits o' hair.
"De gals come out in de starch dresses fer de camp meeting. Dey took dey
hair down out'n de strings fer de meeting. In dem days all de darky
wimmens wore dey hair in string 'cep' when dey 'tended church or a
wedding. At de camp meetings de wimmens pulled off de head rags, 'cept
de mammies. On dis occasion de mammies wore linen head rags fresh
laundered. Dey wore de best aprons wid long streamers ironed and
starched out a hanging down dey backs. All de other darky wimmens wore
de black dresses and dey got hats from some dey white lady folks; jes'
as us mens got hats from our'n. Dem wimmens dat couldn't git no hats,
mostly wore black bonnets. De nigger gals and winches did all de
dressing up dat dey could fer de meeting and also fer de barbecue.
"At night when de meeting dun busted till nex' day was when de darkies
really did have dey freedom o' spirit. As de waggin be creeping along in
de late hours o' moonlight and de darkies would raise a tune. Den de air
soon be filled wid the sweetest tune as us rid on home and sung all de
old hymns dat us loved. It was allus some big black nigger wid a deep
bass voice like a frog dat ud start up de tune. Den de others mens jine
in, followed up by de fine lil voices o' de gals and de cracked voices
o' de old wimmens and de grannies. When us reach near de big house us
soften down to a deep hum dat de missus like! Sometime she his't up de
window and tell us sing 'Swing Low Sweet Cha'ot' for her and de visiting
guests. Dat all us want to hear. Us open up and de niggers near de big
house dat hadn't been to church would wake up and come out to de cabin
door and jine in de refrain. From dat we'd swing on into all de old
spirituals dat us love so well and dat us knowed how to sing. Missus
often 'low dat her darkies could sing wid heaven's 'spiration
(inspiration). Now and den some old mammie would fall out'n de waggin a
shoutin' Glory and Hallelujah and Amen! After dat us went off to lay
down fer de night.
"Young Newt and Anderson was de boys what was near de age of me and
John. Co'se dey went to school every day it was in session. Dey had dey
own hosses and dey rid 'em to school. When dey come home dey would throw
de reins to me and John and us took dem hosses and rub dem down and feed
'em.
"Lots of times Newt and Anderson would tell me and John to come and git
under de steps while ole Marse was eating his supper. When he git up
from de table us lil' niggers would allus hear de sliding o' his chair,
kaize he was sech a big fat man. Den he go into de missus room to set by
de fire. Dar he would warm his feets and have his Julip. Quick as
lightning me and John scamper from under de steps and break fer de big
cape jasamine bushes long de front walk. Dar we hide, till Anderson and
Newt come out a fetching ham biscuit in dey hands fer us. It would be so
full of gravy, dat sometime de gravy would take and run plumb down to de
end o' my elbow and drap off, 'fo I could git it licked offn my wrists.
Dem was de best rations dat a nigger ever had. When dey had honey on de
white folks table, de boys never did fail to fetch a honey biscuit wid
dem. Dat was so good dat I jest take one measley lil' bite of honey and
melted butter on my way to de 'quarter. I would jest taste a leetle.
When I git to Mammy den me and Mammy set off to ourself's and taste it
till it done all gone. Us had good times den; like I never is had befo'
or since.
"Soon atter dat dey sent me and John to de field to larn drapping. I had
to drap peas in every other hill and John had to drap de corn in de
rest. De overseer, ole man Wash Evans, come down dar to see how us was a
doing. Den us got dat skeert dat us got de corn and peas mixed up. He
started to hit us wid de whip dat he had hung 'round his waist. Bout dat
time Marse Tom rid up. He made de overseer git out'n dem corn rows and
let us 'lone. After dat us got 'long fine wid our drapping. When it
come up everybody could see dem rows dat us had done got mixed up on
when de overseer was dar. Marse Tom was dat good to his hands dat dey
all love him all de time. But one day when ole man Evans come through de
field and see dem rows he did call me and John off and whip us. Dat de
most dat I ever got whipped. Marse got shed o' de overseer soon after
dat.
"It was just like dis. Ole man Wash Evans was a wicked man. He take
'vantage of all de slaves when he git half chance. He was great source
of worriment to my Mammy, ole lady Lucy Price and 'nother 'oman, ole
lady Lucy Charles. Course he 'vantage over all de darkies and fer dat
reason he could sway everything his way, most all de time. But my mammy
and ole lady Lucy was 'ligious wimmens. Dat didn't make no diffuns wid
wicked old man Evans. One day Missus sent my mammy and de other ole lady
Lucy to fetch her some blackberries by dinner.
"Me and John was wid dem a pickin' and fillin' o' de big buckets from de
lil' buckets when ole man Evans come riding up. He argued wid both mammy
and ole lady Lucy and dey kept telling him dat de missus want her
berries and dat dey was 'ligious wimmens anyhow and didn't practice no
life o' sin and vile wickedness. Finally he got down off'n his hoss and
pull out his whip and low if dey didn't submit to him he gwine to beat
dem half to death. At [HW: that] me and John took to de woods. But we
peep. My mammy and old lady Lucy start to crying and axing him not to
whip dem.
"Finally dey act like dey gwine to indulge in de wickedness wid dat ole
man. But when he tuck off his whip and some other garments, my Mammy and
ole lady Lucy grab him by his goatee and further down and hist him over
in de middle of dem blackberry bushes. Wid dat dey call me and John. Us
grab all de buckets and us all put out fer de 'big house' fas' as our
legs could carry us. Ole man Evans jest er hollering and er cussing down
in dem briars. Quick as us git to de big house us run in de kitchen.
Cilla call Missus. She come and ax what ailing us and why we is so ashy
looking. Well, my Mammy and ole lady Lucy tell de whole story of dey
humiliations down on de creek.
"Missus 'lowed dat it didn't make no diffuns if Marse was in Union, she
gwinter act prompt. So she sent fer Mr. Evans and he took real long to
git dar, but when he do come, Missus, she 'low--'Mr. Evans, us does not
need yo' services on dis plantation no mo', Sir!' He 'low Marse aint
here. Missus 'low--'I does not want to argue de point wid ye, Mr. Evans,
fer yo' services has come to an end on dis plantation!' Wid dat ole man
Evans go off wid his head a-hanging in shame. Us niggers went out and
tole de news wid gladness shining out from our eyes, kaise us was dat
glad dat we did not know what to do.
"All de fields was enclosed wid a split rail fence in dem days. De hands
took dey rations to de field early every morning and de wimmens slack
work round eleven by de sun fer to build de fire and cook dinner. Missus
'low her niggers to git buttermilk and clabber, when de cows in full, to
carry to de field fer drinking at noon, dat is twelve o'clock. All de
things was fetched in waggins and de fire was built and a pot was put to
bile wid greens when dey was in season. Over coals meat was baked and
meal in pones was wrapped in poplar leaves to bake in de ashes. 'Taters
was done de same way, both sweet 'taters and irish. Dat made a good
field hand dinner. Plenty was allud had and den 'lasses was also fetched
along. Working niggers does on less dese days.
"Does you know dat de poplar leaves was wet afo' de meal pone was put in
it? Well, it was, and when it got done de ashes was blowed off wid your
breath and den de parched leaves folded back from de cooked pone. De
poplar leaves give de ash cake a nice fresh sweet taste. All forks and
spoons was made out'n sticks den; even dem in de big house kitchen.
Bread bowls and dough trays was all made by de skilled slaves in de
Marse's shop, by hands dat was skilled to sech as dat.
"Young chilluns and babies was kept at home by de fire and nursed and
cared fer by de ole wimmens dat couldn't do no field work. De chief one
on our plantation during my 'membrance was ole aunt Abbie. She had head
o' de chilluns all over de plantation when dey mamies was a working in
de field. Marse Tom used to ride through de 'quarters' every day to see
about ole lady Abbie and de chilluns when dey parents was at work in de
fields during de working season. Ole lady Abbie had to see to it dat dey
was kept warm by de fire and dat dey clothes was kept up wid while dey
mammies was in de field. Dem chilluns on our plantation was well looked
after. De seamstresses also kept our work clothes patched and darned,
till new ones was wove fer us.
"Sides dat dem chilluns was fed. Each child had a maple fork and spoon
to eat wid. Lil' troughs was made fer dem to eat de milk and bread from.
'Shorts', low stools, was made fer dem to set up to de troughs to,
whilst dey was eating. De other ole ladies helped wid de preparations of
dey messes o' vittals. One ole woman went her rounds wid a wet rag a
wiping dem chilluns dresses when dey would spill dey milk and bread.
Marse Tom and sometime Missus come to see de lil' babies whilst dey was
a eating. De other ole ladies 'tended to de small babies. Sometimes it
was many as fifteen on de plantation at one time dat was too little to
walk.
"Dey mammies was not worked on our plantation till de babies was big
'nough to take a bottle. And in dem days no bottle was given no baby
under a year old. De wimmins in family way was better cared for den dese
young niggers now-a-days. Marse Tom never bred no slaves but he did care
fer his niggers when dey married and got dey own chilluns. I has done
related to you how dey fixed de medicines and things. Dem babies was
washed every day if dey mammies was in de field, dat never made no
diffuns, kaise it was de old ladies' jobs to see to it dat dey was.
Younguns on de plantation was bathed two or three times a week. Mullein
leaves and salt was biled in great big pot to put in de babies' wash
water and also in de chilluns' water. Dis would keep 'em from gitting
sick. Den dey was allus greased after de washing to keep de skin from
busting open. Mosely dey was greased wid tallow from de mutton. Mr.
Anderson took medicine and after dat he doctor all de slaves fer his paw
free.
"While de Yankees had everything closed up down in Charleston it was
hard to git anything in dis country into de sto's. Us allus traded at de
post (Goshen Hill Trading Post). If I recollects correctly it was during
dis period dat Marse Tom let my Mammy go up to de post to fetch back her
a bonnet.
"Up dar dey took cotton and corn and anything like dat in trade dat dey
could sell to de folks dat was working on de railroad bed dat was gwine
through dat country (Seaboard Airline). So Mammy took a lot of cotton
wid her to de post. She knowd dat it was gwine to take lots to git dat
bonnet. It weren't but three and a half miles de short way to de post
from our place.
"I's gwine long wid her and so I had to wear some pants to go to de post
as dat was big doings fer a lil' darky boy to git to go to de trading
center. So aunt Abbie fotched me a pair of new pants dat was dat stiff,
dat dey made me feel like I was all closed up in a jacket, atter being
used to only a shirt-tail!
"Well, it wasn't fur and us arriv' dar early in de day. Mammy said
'howdy' to all de darkies what dar and I look at dem from behind her
skirts. I felt real curious-like all inside. But she never give me no
mind whatever. She never act like she knowd dat I was pulling her dress
at all. I seed so many things dat I never had seed befo', not in all my
born days. Red sticks o' candy was a laying right dar fo' my eyes, jes'
like de folks from de big house brung us at Christmas. It was not near
Christmas den, kaise it was jest cotton picking time and I wondered
how-come dey was having candy in de store fer, now-how.
"Mammy look down at me and she say to de white man wid a beard, 'Marse,
please sir, give me five cent worth peppermint candy.' Den when he hand
her de bag she break off lil' piece and hand it to me, and wall her eyes
at me and say in a low voice, 'Don' you dare git none dat red on yo'
clean shirt, if you wants to git home widout gitting wo' plumb smack
out.'
"Den she talk about de bonnets. Finally she git one fer ten dollars
worth o' cotton. Money wasn't nothing in dem times. By dis time us had
done started on our return home and I was starting to feel more like I
allus felt.
"Nigger, what dat you is done gone and got on dat clean shirt? Didn't
you hear me tell you not to git dat new shirt all red? Look dar a
streaming down off'n your chin at dar red. How is I gwine to ever teach
you anything, when you act jest like a nigger from some pore white
trashes poor land?'
"When we gits to dat branch now I's got to stop and wash dat dirty black
mouth and den I can't git dat red candy off'n dat shirt. What ole lady
Abbie gwine to say to ye when she see you done gone and act like you
ain't never seed no quality befo'?
"Atter I has done tole you all de way from home how you must act at de
post den you goes and does like you is. Aint never gwine to carry you
nowhars 'gin long as I lives.
"Bend dat lazy, good-fer-nothing back so as I won't git you wet all de
way down your belly, you hear me? Now you is looking like you belongs to
Marse Tom 'gin. Gimme dat candy right now; I gwine to see to it dat you
gits back home looking like somet'ing after all my worriments wid ye.'
"Mammy seed dust a flying and de hoss come a-bringing Marse Tom down de
road. Mammy drap everything in the dust and grab her apron to drap a
curtsy. She 'low--'Git dat hat off dat head and bow your head fo' he git
hear."
"Howdy, Lucy, what is you and dat youngun been, anyhow?' 'Us been to git
me a bonnet, Marse Tom, and it took all de ten dollars worth of cotton
to fetch it back wid.' 'Yes, Lucy, money does not go far these days,
since the Yankees got everything'. 'No Sir, No Sir, Marse,' and he rid
on, leaving us behind in de dust."
=Source:= Interview with Gus Feaster (C-97), ex-slave,
living at 20 Stutz Ave., Union, S.C.; interviewer - Caldwell Sims,
Union, South Carolina.
Project #-1655
Phoebe Faucette
Hampton County