big breakfas' o' hot bread, 'lasses, fried salt meat dipped in corn
meal, an' fried taters[FN: sweet potatoes]. Sometimes us had fish an'
rabbit meat. When us was in de fiel', two women 'ud come at dinner-time
wid baskets filled wid hot pone, baked taters, corn roasted in de
shucks, onion, fried squash, an' b'iled pork. Sometimes dey brought
buckets o' cold buttermilk. It sho' was good to a hongry man. At
supper-time us had hoecake an' cold vi'tals. Sometimes dey was sweetmilk
an' collards.
"Mos' ever' slave had his own little garden patch an' was 'lowed to cook
out of it.
"Mos' ever plantation kep' a man busy huntin' an' fishin' all de time.
(If dey shot a big buck, us had deer meat roasted on a spit.)
"On Sundays us always had meat pie or fish or fresh game an' roasted
taters an' coffee. On Chris'mus de marster 'ud give us chicken an'
barrels o' apples an' oranges. 'Course, ever' marster warnt as free
handed as our'n was. (He was sho' 'nough quality.) I'se hear'd dat a
heap o' cullud people never had nothin' good t'eat.
"I warnt learnt nothin' in no book. Don't think I'd a-took to it,
nowhow. Dey learnt de house servants to read. Us fiel' han's never
knowed nothin' 'cept weather an' dirt an' to weigh cotton. Us was learnt
to figger a little, but dat's all.
"I reckon I was 'bout fifteen when hones' Abe Lincoln what called
hisse'f a rail-splitter come here to talk wid us. He went all th'ough de
country jus' a-rantin' an' a-preachin' 'bout us bein' his black
brothers. De marster didn' know nothin' 'bout it, 'cause it was sorta
secret-lak. It sho' riled de Niggers up an' lots of 'em run away. I sho'
hear'd him, but I didn' pay 'im no min'.
"When de war broke out dat old Yankee Dutch overseer o' our'n went back
up North, where he b'longed. Us was pow'ful glad an' hoped he'd git his
neck broke.
"After dat de Yankees come a-swoopin' down on us. My own pappy took off
wid 'em. He j'ined a comp'ny what fit[FN: fought] at Vicksburg. I was
plenty big 'nough to fight, but I didn' hanker to tote no gun. I stayed
on de plantation an' put in a crop.
"It was pow'ful on easy times after dat. But what I care 'bout freedom?
Folks what was free was in misery firs' one way an' den de other.
"I was on de plantation closer to town, den. It was called 'Fish Pond
Plantation.' De white folks come an' tol' us we mus' burn all de cotton
so de enemy couldn' git it.
"Us piled it high in de fiel's lak great mountains. It made my innards
hurt to see fire 'tached to somethin' dat had cost us Niggers so much
labor an' hones' sweat. If I could a-hid some o' it in de barn I'd
a-done it, but de boss searched ever'where.
"De little Niggers thought it was fun. Dey laughed an' brung out big
armfuls from de cotton house. One little black gal clapped her han's an'
jumped in a big heap. She sunk down an' down' til she was buried deep.
Den de wind picked up de flame an' spread it lak lightenin'. It spread
so fas' dat 'fore us could bat de eye, she was in a mountain of fiah.
She struggled up all covered wid flames, a-screamin',' Lawdy, he'p me!'
Us snatched her out an' rolled her on de groun', but twant no use. She
died in a few minutes.
"De marster's sons went to war. De one what us loved bes' never come
back no more. Us mourned him a-plenty, 'cause he was so jolly an'
happy-lak, an' free wid his change. Us all felt cheered when he come
'roun'.
"Us Niggers didn' know nothin' 'bout what was gwine on in de outside
worl'. All us knowed was dat a war was bein' fit. Pussonally, I b'lieve
in what Marse Jefferson Davis done. He done de only thing a gent'man
could a-done. He tol' Marse Abe Lincoln to 'tend to his own bus'ness an'
he'd 'tend to his'n. But Marse Lincoln was a fightin' man an' he come
down here an' tried to run other folks' plantations. Dat made Marse
Davis so all fired mad dat he spit hard 'twixt his teeth an' say, 'I'll
whip de socks off dem dam Yankees.'
"Dat's how it all come 'bout.
"My white folks los' money, cattle, slaves, an' cotton in de war, but
dey was still better off dan mos' folks.
"Lak all de fool Niggers o' dat time I was right smart bit by de freedom
bug for awhile. It sounded pow'ful nice to be tol':
'You don't have to chop cotton no more. You can th'ow dat hoe down an'
go fishin' whensoever de notion strikes you. An' you can roam' roun' at
night an' court gals jus' as late as you please. Aint no marster gwine
a-say to you, "Charlie, you's got to be back when de clock strikes
nine."'
"I was fool 'nough to b'lieve all dat kin' o' stuff. But to tell de
hones' truf, mos' o' us didn' know ourse'fs no better off. Freedom meant
us could leave where us'd been born an' bred, but it meant, too, dat us
had to scratch for us ownse'fs. Dem what lef' de old plantation seemed
so all fired glad to git back dat I made up my min' to stay put. I
stayed right wid my white folks as long as I could.
"My white folks talked plain to me. Dey say real sad-lak, 'Charlie,
you's been a dependence, but now you can go if you is so desirous. But
if you wants to stay wid us you can share-crop. Dey's a house for you
an' wood to keep you warm an' a mule to work. We aint got much cash, but
dey's de lan' an' you can count on havin' plenty o' vit'als. Do jus' as
you please.' When I looked at my marster an' knowed he needed me, I
pleased to stay. My marster never forced me to do nary thing' bout it.
Didn' nobody make me work after de war, but dem Yankees sho' made my
daddy work. Dey put a pick in his han' stid[FN: instead] o' a gun. Dey
made' im dig a big ditch in front o' Vicksburg. He worked a heap harder
for his Uncle Sam dan he'd ever done for de marster.
"I hear'd tell 'bout some Nigger sojers a-plunderin' some houses: Out at
Pine Ridge dey kilt a white man named Rogillio. But de head Yankee
sojers in Natchez tried 'em for somethin' or nother an' hung 'em on a
tree out near de Charity Horspital. Dey strung up de ones dat went to
Mr. Sargent's door one night an' shot him down, too. All dat hangin'
seemed to squelch a heap o' lousy goin's-on.
"Lawd! Lawd! I knows 'bout de Kloo Kluxes. I knows a-plenty. Dey was
sho' 'nough devils a-walkin' de earth a-seekin' what dey could devour.
Dey larruped de hide of'n de uppity Niggers an' driv[FN: drove] de white
trash back where dey b'longed.
"Us Niggers didn' have no secret meetin's. All us had was church
meetin's in arbors out in de woods. De preachers 'ud exhort us dat us
was de chillun o' Israel in de wilderness an' de Lawd done sont us to
take dis lan' o' milk an' honey. But how us gwine a-take lan' what's
already been took?
"I sho' aint never hear'd' bout no plantations bein' 'vided up, neither.
I hear'd a lot o' yaller Niggers spoutin' off how dey was gwine a-take
over de white folks' lan' for back wages. Dem bucks jus' took all dey
wages out in talk. 'Cause I aint never seen no lan' 'vided up yet.
"In dem days nobody but Niggers an' shawl-strop[FN: carpet baggers]
folks voted. Quality folks didn' have nothin' to do wid such truck. If
dey had a-wanted to de Yankees wouldn' a-let 'em. My old marster didn'
vote an' if anybody knowed what was what he did. Sense didn' count in
dem days. It was pow'ful ticklish times an' I let votin' alone.
"De shawl-strop folks what come in to take over de country tol' us dat
us had a right to go to all de balls, church meetin's, an' 'tainments de
white folks give. But one night a bunch o' uppity Niggers went to a
'tainment in Memorial Hall. Dey dressed deysef's fit to kill an' walked
down de aisle an' took seats in de very front. But jus' 'bout time dey
got good set down, de curtain drapped[FN: dropped] an' de white folks
riz[FN: arose] up widout a-sayin' airy word. Dey marched out de buildin'
wid dey chins up an' lef' dem Niggers a-settin' in a empty hall.
"Dat's de way it happen ever' time a Nigger tried to git too uppity. Dat
night after de breakin' up o' dat' tainment, de Kloo Kluxes rid[FN:
rode] th'ough de lan'. I hear'd dey grabbed ever' Nigger what walked
down dat aisle, but I aint hear'd yet what dey done wid 'em.
"Dat same thing happened ever' time a Nigger tried to act lak he was
white.
"A heap o' Niggers voted for a little while. Dey was a black man what
had office. He was named Lynch. He cut a big figger up in Washington. Us
had a sheriff named Winston. He was a ginger cake Nigger an' pow'ful
mean when he got riled. Sheriff Winston was a slave an', if my mem'ry
aint failed me, so was Lynch.
"My granny tol' me 'bout a slave uprisin' what took place when I was a
little boy. None o' de marster's Niggers' ud have nothin' to do wid it.
A Nigger tried to git 'em to kill dey white folks an' take dey lan'. But
what us want to kill old Marster an' take de lan' when dey was de bes'
frien's us had? Dey caught de Nigger an' hung 'im to a limb.
"Plenty folks b'lieved in charms, but I didn' take no stock in such
truck. But I don't lak for de moon to shine on me when I's a-sleepin'.
"De young Niggers is headed straight for hell. All dey think' bout is
drinkin' hard likker, goin' to dance halls, an' a-ridin' in a old rattle
trap car. It beats all how dey brags an' wastes things. Dey aint one
whit happier dan folks was in my day. I was as proud to git a apple as
dey is to git a pint o' likker. Course, schools he'p some, but looks lak
all mos' o' de young'n's is studyin' 'bout is how to git out o' hones'
labor.
"I'se seen a heap o' fools what thinks 'cause they is wise in books,
they is wise in all things.
"Mos' all my white folks is gone, now. Marse Randolph Shields is a
doctor 'way off in China. I wish I could git word to' im, 'cause I know
he'd look after me if he knowed I was on charity. I prays de Lawd to see
'em all when I die."
Gabe Emanuel, Ex-slave, Claiborne County
FEC
Esther de Sola
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes
GABE EMANUEL
Port Gibson, Mississippi
Gabe Emanuel is the blackest of Negroes. He is stooped and wobbly from
his eighty-five years and weighs about one hundred and thirty-five
pounds. His speech is somewhat hindered by an unbelievable amount of
tobacco rolled to one side of his mouth. He lives in the Negro quarters
of Port Gibson. Like most ex-slaves he has the courtesy and the
gentleness of a southern gentleman.
"Lawsy! Dem slav'ry days done been s'long ago I jus' 'member a few
things dat happen den. But I's sho' mighty pleased to relate dat what I
recollec'.
"I was de house boy on old judge Stamps' plantation. He lived 'bout nine
miles east o' Port Gibson an' he was a mighty well-to-do gent'man in dem
days. He owned 'bout 500 or 600 Niggers. He made plenty o' money out o'
his fiel's. Dem Niggers worked for dey keep. I 'clare, dey sho' did.
"Us 'ud dike out in spick an' span clean clothes come Sund'ys. Ever'body
wore homespun clo'es den. De mistis an' de res' o' de ladies in de Big
House made mos' of 'em. De cullud wimmins wore some kin' o' dress wid
white aprons an' de mens wore overalls an' homespun pants an' shirts.
Course, all de time us gits han'-me-downs from de folks in de Big House.
Us what was a-servin' in de Big House wore de marster's old dress suits.
Now, dat was somep'n'! Mos' o' de time dey didn' fit--maybe de pants
hung a little loose an' de tails o' de coat hung a little long. Me bein'
de house boy, I used to look mighty sprucy when I put on my frock tail.
"De mistis used to teach us de Bible on Sund'ys an' us always had Sund'y
school. Us what lived in de Big House an' even some o' de fiel' han's
was taught to read an' write by de white folks.
"De fiel' han's sho' had a time wid dat man, Duncan. He was de overseer
man out at de plantation. Why, he'd have dem poor Niggers so dey didn'
know if dey was gwine in circles or what.
"One day I was out in de quarters when he brung back old man Joe from
runnin' away. Old Joe was always a-runnin' away an' dat man Duncan put
his houn' dogs on 'im an' brung 'im back. Dis time I's speakin' 'bout
Marster Duncan put his han' on old Joe's shoulder an' look him in de eye
sorrowful-lak. 'Joe', he say, 'I's sho' pow'ful tired o' huntin' you.
I'spect I's gwina have to git de marster to sell you some'r's else.
Another marster gwina whup you in de groun' if he ketch you runnin' 'way
lak dis. I's sho sad for you if you gits sol' away. Us gwina miss you
'roun' dis plantation.' After dat old Joe stayed close in an' dey warnt
no more trouble out o' him.
"Dat big white man called Duncan, he seen dat de Niggers b'have
deyse'ves right. Dey called him de 'Boss Man.' He always carried a big
whup an' when dem Niggers got sassy, dey got de whup 'crost dey hides.
"Lawsy! I's recallin' de time when de big old houn' dog what fin' de
run-away Niggers done die wid fits. Dat man Duncan, he say us gwina hol'
fun'al rites over dat dog. He say us Niggers might better be's pow'ful
sad when us come to dat fun'al. An' dem Niggers was sad over de death o'
dat poor old dog what had chased 'em all over de country. Dey all stan'
'roun' a-weepin' an' a-mournin'. Ever' now an' den dey'd put water on
dey eyes an' play lak dey was a-weepin' bitter, bitter tears. 'Poor old
dog, she done died down dead an' can't kotch us no more. Poor old dog.
Amen! De Lawd have mercy!'
"De Judge was a great han' for 'tainment[FN: entertainment]. He always
had a house full o' folks an' he sho' give 'em de bes' o' food an'
likker. Dey was a big room he kep' all polished up lak glass. Ever' now
an' den he'd th'ow a big party an' 'vite mos' ever'body in Mississippi
to come. Dey was fo' Niggers in de quarters what could sing to beat de
ban', an' de Judge would git 'em to sing for his party.
"I 'member how 'cited I'd git when one o' dem shindigs 'ud come off. I
sho' would strut den. De mistis 'ud dress me up an' I'd carry de likker
an' drinks' roun' 'mongst de peoples. 'Would you prefer dis here mint
julip, Marster? Or maybe you'd relish dis here special wine o' de
Judge's. 'Dem white folks sho' could lap up dem drinks, too. De Judge
had de bes' o' ever'thing.
"Dey was always a heap o' fresh meat in de meat house. De pantry fairly
bu'sted wid all kin' o' preserves an' sweetnin's. Lawdy! I mean to tell
you dem was de _good_ days.
"I 'member I used to hate ever' Wednesday. Dat was de day I had to
polish de silver. Lawsy! It took me mos' all day. When I'd think I was
'bout th'ough de mistis was sho' to fin' some o' 'dat silver dat had to
be did over.
"Den de war broke out. De marster went 'way wid de sojers an' gradual'
de hardness come to de plantation.
"Us never knowed when dem Yankee sojers would come spen' a few weeks at
de Big House. Dey'd eat up all de marster's vit'als an' drink up all his
good likker.
"I 'member one time de Yankees camped right in de front yard. Dey took
all de meat out'n de curin' house. Well sir! I done 'cide by myse'f dat
no Yankee gwina eat all us meat. So dat night I slips in dey camp; I
stole back dat meat from dem thievin' sojers an' hid it, good. Ho! Ho!
Ho! But dey never did fin' dat meat.
"One time us sot fire to a bridge de Yankees had to cross to git to de
plantation. Dey had to camp on de other side, 'cause dey was too lazy to
put out de fire. Dat's jus' lak I figgered it.
"When de war was over my mammy an' pappy an' us five chillun travelled
here to Port Gibson to live. My mammy hired out for washin'. I don't
know zackly what my pappy done.
"Lincoln was de man dat sot us free. I don't recollec' much 'bout 'im
'ceptin' what I hear'd in de Big House 'bout Lincoln doin' dis an'
Lincoln doin' dat.
"Lawdy! I sho' was happy when I was a slave.
"De Niggers today is de same as dey always was, 'ceptin' dey's gittin'
more money to spen'. Dey aint got nobody to make' em' 'have deyse'ves
an' keep 'em out o' trouble, now.
"I lives here in Port Gibson an' does mos' ever' kin' o' work. I tries
to live right by ever'body, but I 'spect I won't be here much longer.
"I'se been married three times.
"When de time comes to go I hopes to be ready. De Lawd God Almighty
takes good care o' his chillun if dey be's good an' holy."
Dora Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County
FEC
Mrs. Richard Kolb
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes
DORA FRANKS
Aberdeen, Mississippi
Dora Franks, ex-slave, lives at Aberdeen, Monroe County. She is about
five feet tall and weighs 100 pounds. Her hair is inclined to be curly
rather than kinky. She is very active and does most of her own work.
"I was born in Choctaw County, but I never knowed zackly how old I was,
'cause none o' my folks could read an' write. I reckon I be's 'bout a
hund'ed, 'cause I was a big girl long time fo' Surrender. I was old
'nough to marry two years after dat.
"My mammy come from Virginny. Her name was Harriet Brewer. My daddy was
my young Marster. His name was Marster George Brewer an' my mammy always
tol' me dat I was his'n. I knew dat dere was some dif'ence 'tween me an'
de res' o' her chillun, 'cause dey was all coal black, an' I was even
lighter dan I is now. Lawd, it's bean to my sorrow many a time, 'cause
de chillun used to chase me 'round an' holler at me, 'Old yallow
Nigger.' Dey didn' treat me good, neither.
"I stayed in de house mos' o' de time wid Miss Emmaline. Miss
Emmaline's hair was _dat_ white, den. I loved her' cause she was so good
to me. She taught me how to weave an' spin. 'Fore I was bigger'n a
minute I could do things dat lots o' de old han's couldn' come nigh
doin'. She an' Marse Bill had 'bout eight chillun, but mos' of 'em was
grown when I come 'long. Dey was all mighty good to me an' wouldn' 'low
nobody to hurt me.
"I 'members one time when dey all went off an' lef' me wid a old black
woman call Aunt Ca'line what done de cookin' 'round de place some o' de
time. When dey lef' de house I went in de kitchen an' asked her for a
piece o' white bread lak de white folks eat. She haul off an' slap me
down an' call me all kin' o' names dat I didn' know what dey meant. My
nose bled an' ruint de nice clean dress I had on. When de Mistis come
back Marse George was wid 'er. She asked me what on earth happen to me
an' I tol' 'er. Dey call Ca'line in de room an' asked her if what I say
was de truf. She tell 'em it was, an' dey sent 'er away. I hear tell dat
dey whup her so hard dat she couldn' walk no mo'.
"Us never had no big fun'als or weddin's on de place. Didn' have no
marryin' o' any kin'. Folks in dem days jus' sorter hitched up together
an' call deyse'ves man an' wife. All de cullud folks was buried on what
dey called Platnum Hill. Dey didn' have no markers nor nothin' at de
graves. Dey was jus' sunk in places. My brother Frank showed me once
where my mammy was buried. Us didn' have no preachin', or singin', or
nothin', neither. Us didn' even git to have meetin's on Sund'y less us
slip off an' go to some other plantation. Course, I got to go wid de
white folks sometime an' set in de back, or on de steps. Dat was whan I
was little.
"Lots o' Niggers would slip off from one plantation to de other to see
some other Niggers. Dey would always manage to git back' fore daybreak.
De wors' thing I ever heard 'bout dat was once when my Uncle Alf run off
to 'jump de broom.' Dat was what dey called goin' to see a woman. He
didn' come back by daylight, so dey put de Nigger hounds after him. Dey
smelled his trail down in de swamp an' foun' where he was hidin'.
"Now, he was one of da biggest Niggers on de place an' a powerful fas'
worker. But dey took an' give him 100 lashes wid de cat o' ninety-nine
tails. His back was somethin' awful, but dey put him in de fiel' to work
while de blood was still a-runnin'. He work right hard 'til dey lef'.
Den, when he got up to de end o' de row nex' to de swamp, he lit out
ag'in.
"Dey never foun' 'im dat time. Dey say he foun' a cave an' fix him up a
room whar he could live. At nights he would come out on de place an'
steal enough t'eat an' cook it in his little dugout. When de war was
over an' de slaves was freed, he come out. When I saw him, he look lak a
hairy ape, 'thout no clothes on an' hair growin' all over his body.
"Dem was pretty good days back in slav'ry times. My Marstar had a whole
passal o' Niggers on his place. When any of 'em would git sick dey would
go to de woods an' git herbs an roots an' make tea for 'em to drink.
Hogweed an' May apples was de bes' things I knowed of. Sometimes old
Mistis doctored 'em herse'f. One time a bunch o' us chillun was playin'
in de woods an foun' some o' dem May apples. Us et a lot of 'em an' got
awful sick. Dey dosed us up on grease an' Samson snake root to clean us
out. An' it sho' done a good job. I'se been a-usin' dat snake root ever
since.
"De firs' thing dat I 'member hearin' 'bout de war was one day when
Marse George come in de house an' tell Miss Emmaline dat dey's gwine
have a bloody war. He say he feared all de slaves 'ud be took away. She
say if dat was true she feel lak jumpin' in de well. I hate to hear her
say dat, but from dat minute I started prayin' for freedom. All de res'
o' de women done de same.
"De war started pretty soon after dat an' all de men folks went off an'
lef' de plantation for de women an' de Niggers to run. Us seen de sojers
pass by mos' ever' day. Once de Yankees come an' stole a lot o' de
horses an' somp'in' t'eat. Dey even took de trunk full o' 'Federate
money dat was hid in de swamp. How dey foun' dat us never knowed.
"Marse George come home' bout two years after de war started an' married
Miss Martha Ann. Dey had always been sweethearts. Dey was promised 'fore
he lef'.
"Marse Lincoln an' Marse Jeff Davis is two I 'members 'bout. But,
Lawzee! Dat was a long time back. Us liked Marse Jeff Davis de bes' on
de place. Us even made up a song 'bout him, but, I 'clare 'fore
goodness, I can't even 'member de firs' line o' dat song. You see, when
I got 'ligion, I asked de Lawd to take all de other songs out o' my
head an' make room for his word.
"Since den it's de hardes' thing in de worl' for me to 'member de songs
us used to dance by. I do' member a few lak 'Shoo, Fly', 'Old Dan
Tucker', an' 'Run, Nigger, Run, de Pateroller Catch You.' I don' 'member
much o' de words. I does 'member a little o' 'Old Dan Tucker.' It went
dis way:
'Old Don Tucker was a mighty mean man,
He beat his wife wid a fryin' pan.
She hollered an' she cried, "I's gwineter go,
Dey's plenty o' men, won't beat me so."
'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker,
You come too late to git yo' supper.
'Old Dan Tucker, he got drunk,
Fell in de fire, kicked up a chunk,
Red hot coal got down his shoe
Oh, Great Lawd, how de ashes flew.
'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker,
You come too late to git yo' supper.'
"When de war was over, my brother Frank slipped in de house where I was
still a-stayin'. He tol' me us was free an' for me to come out wid de
res'. 'Fore sundown dere warnt one Nigger lef' on de place. I hear tell
later dat de Mistis an' de gals had to git out an' work in de fiel's to
he'p gather in de crop.
"Frank foun' us a place to work an' put us all in de fiel'. I never had
worked in de fiel' before. I'd faint away mos' ever'day 'bout eleven
o'clock. It was de heat. Some of 'em would have to tote me to de house.
I'd soon come to. Den I had to go back to de fiel'. Us was on Marse
Davis Cox's place den.
"Two years later I met Pet Franks an' us married. De Cox's was good
folks an' give us a big weddin'. All de white folks an' de Niggers for
miles a-round come to see us git married. De Niggers had a big supper
an' had a peck t'eat. Us had eight chillun, but aint but three of 'em
livin'. Me an' Pet aint been a-livin' together for de las' twenty-three
years. Us jus' couldn' git 'long together, so us quit. He lives out at
Acker's Fishing Lodge now an' does de cookin' for 'em.
"I never will forgit de Klu Klux Klan. Never will [TR: "I" deleted]
forgit de way dat horn soun' at night when dey was a-goin' after some
mean Nigger. Us'd all run an' hide. Us was livin' on de Troup place den,
near old Hamilton, in one o' de brick houses back o' de house whar dey
used to keep de slaves. Marse Alec Troup was one o' de Klu Klux's an' so
was Marse Thad Willis dat lived close by. Dey'd make plans together
sometime an' I'd hear 'em. One time dey caught me lis'nin', but dey
didn' do nothin' to me, 'cause dey knowed I warnt gwine tell. Us was all
good Niggers on his place.
"Lawd, Miss, dese here young folks today is gwine straight to de Devil.
All dey do all day an' all night is run 'round an' drink corn likker
an' ride in automobiles. I'se got a grand-daughter here, an' she's dat
wil'. I worries a right smart 'bout her, but it don't do no good, 'cause
her mammy let her do jus' lak she please anyhow.
"Den I tells you, de one thing I worries 'bout mos'. Dat is de white
folks what lives here 'mongst de Niggers. You know what kinda folks dey
is, an' it sho' is bad influence on 'em. You knows Niggers aint s'posed
to always know de right from de wrong. Dey aint got Marsters to teach
'em now. For de white folks to come down here an' do lak dey do, I tells
you, it aint right. De quality white folks ought-a do somethin' bout it.