"Yes, Ma'am," Aunt Beckie said, "I remembers you, you Miss Mamie
Willingham' granddaughter. She was sure a good woman. She'd fill her
buggy with sugar, tea, coffee and tobacco, and go every Thursday to see
the sick and old people. She wouldn't except none--white or colored.
No'm she wouldn't except none! That's the kind of folks you sprung from.
You's got a good heritage.
"The most of what I remembers before the war was when I was in Beaufort.
They used to take care of the widows then. Take it by turns. There was a
lady, Miss Mary Ann Baker, whose husband had been an organist in the
church. When he died they would all take turns caring for Miss Mary Ann.
I remember I'd meet her on de street and I'd say, 'Good mornin' Miss
Mary Ann.' 'Morning Janie.' 'How you this mornin' Miss Mary Ann?' She'd
say, 'Death come in and make alterations, and hard living make
contrivance.' She'd take any old coat, or anything, and make it over to
fit her children, and look good, too. She was a great seamstress. You'd
see her children when they turn out on de street and they looked the
same as some rich white people's children. Nearly all of her children
was girls. Had one boy, as well as I kin remember.
"Dey used to make de clothes for de slaves in de house. Had a seamstress
to stay there in de house so de mistress could supervise the work. De
cloth de clothes was made out of was hand woven. It was dyed in pretty
colors--some green, some blue, and pretty colors. And it was strong
cloth, too. Times got so hard during de war dat de white folks had to
use de cloth woven by hand, themselves. De ladies would wear bustles,
and hoops made out of oak. Old times, they'd make underbodies with
whalebone in it. There was something they'd put over the hoop they call,
'Follow me, boy'. Used to wear the skirts long, with them long trains
that trail behind you. You'd take and tuck it up behind on some little
hook or something they had to fasten it up to. And the little babes had
long dresses. Come down to your feet when you hold the baby in your lap.
And embroidered from the bottom of the skirt all the way up. Oh, they
were embroidered up in the finest sort of embroidery.
"One day when I was nursing, my Missus' son--him and I been one age,
'bout the same age--he go up town and buy a false face. Now I didn't see
nuthin' like dat before! He put dat thing on and hide behind de door. I
had de baby in my arms, and when I start toward de door with de baby, he
jump out at me! I threw the baby clean under the bed I was so scared. If
it had of killed it, it wouldn't been me. It'd been dem! Cause I ain't
never seen sech a thing before.
"You say what schoolin' de slaves got? They didn't get none--unless it
was de bricklayers and such like, and de seamstresses. If de masters
wanted to learn them, they'd let 'em hold de book. But they wouldn't
miss de catechism. And they was taught they must be faithful to the
Missus and Marsa's work like you would to your heavenly Father's work.
"Didn't have no colored churches. De drivers and de over-seers, de
house-servants, de bricklayers and folks like dat'd go to de white
folk's church. But not de field hands. Why dey couldn't have all got in
de church. My marsa had three or four hundred slaves, himself. And most
of the other white folks had just as many or more. But them as went
would =sing=! Oh they'd sing! I remember two of 'em specially. One was a
man and he'd sing bass. Oh, he'd roll it down! The other was a woman,
and she'd sing soprano! They had colored preachers to preach to de field
hands down in de quarters. Dey'd preach in de street. Meet next day to
de marsa's and turn in de report. How many pray, how many ready for
baptism and all like dat. Used to have Sabbath School in de white
people's house, in de porch, on Sunday evening. De porch was big and
dey'd fill dat porch! They never fail to give de chillun Sabbath School.
Learn them de Sabbath catechism. We'd sing a song the church bells used
to ring in Beaufort. You never hear it any more. But I remembers it."
The old woman sang the song for me as melodiously and beautifully as any
young person. The words are:
"I want to be an angel, and with an angel stand,
A crown upon my forehead, a harp within my hand.
Right there before my Saviour, so glorious and so bright,
I'll hear the sweetest music, and praise Him day and night."
"Old Parson Winborn Lawton used to preach for us after the war until we
got our church organized. He had a daughter named Miss Anna Lawton. At
the white folk's church at Lawtonville they had a colored man who used
to sing for them, by the name of Moses Murray. He'd sit there back of
the organ and roll down on them bass. Roll down just like de organ roll!
He was Moses Lawton at that time, you know.
"You know how old I am? I'm in my 94th year. Ella has a dream book she
looks up my age in and tells me what luck I have, and all that. I
generally had good luck."
=Source:= Rebecca Jane Grant, 93 years old. Lena, S.C.
Project 1885-(1)
FOLKLORE
Spartanburg, S.C.
District No. 4.
May 26, 1937.
Edited by:
R.V. Williams