FEC
W.B. Allison
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes
BERRY SMITH
Forest, Mississippi
"Uncle Berry" Smith is five feet two or three inches tall. He is
scrupulously neat. He is very independent for his age, which is
calculated at one hundred and sixteen years. He believes the figure to
be correct. His mind is amazingly clear.
"I was born an' bred in Sumpter County, Alabama, in de prairie lan', six
miles from Gainesville. Dat's where I hauled cotton. It was close to
Livingston, Alabama, where we lived.
"I was twelve years old when de stars fell. Dey fell late in de night
an' dey lighted up de whole earth. All de chaps was a-runnin' 'roun'
grabbin' for 'em, but none of us ever kotched[FN: caught] one. It's a
wonder some of' em didn' hit us, but dey didn'. Dey never hit de groun'
atall.
"When dey runned de Injuns out de country, me an' another chap kotched
one o' dem Injun's ponies an hung him up[FN: tied him up] in de grape
vines. He said it was his pony an' I said it was mine.
"Marse Bob's boy tol' us his daddy was gwine a-whup us for stealin' dat
pony, so we hid out in de cane for two nights. Marse Bob an' his brother
whupped us' til we didn' want to see no more Injuns or dey ponies,
neither.
"I was born a slave to Old Marse Jim Harper an' I fell to Marse Bob.
Marse Jim bought my pa an' ma from a man by de name o' Smith, an' Pa
kep' de name. Dat's how come I is Berry Smith.
"Dey didn' have no schools for us an' didn' teach us nothin' but work.
De bull-whip an' de paddle was all de teachin' we got. De white
preachers used to preach to de Niggers sometimes in de white folks'
church, but I didn' go much.
"We had fun in dem days in spite o' ever'thing. De pranks we used to
play on dem paterollers! Sometimes we tied ropes 'crost de bridge an' de
paterollers'd hit it an' go in de creek. Maybe we'd be fiddlin' an'
dancin' on de bridge (dat was de grown folks, but de chaps 'ud come,
too) an' dey'd say, 'Here come de paterollers!' Den we'd put out. If we
could git to de marster's house, we was all right. Marse Bob wouldn' let
no pateroller come on his place. Marse Alf wouldn', neither. Dey said it
was all right if we could git home widout bein' kotched, but we have to
take dat chance.
"At de Big House dey had spinnin' wheels an' a loom. Dey made all de
clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun was what dey called de goods.
My ma used to spin an' weave in de loom room at de Big House.
"Dey was two plantations in de marster's lan' an' dey worked a heap o'
Niggers. I was a house boy an' didn' go to de fiel' much.
"We had overseers on de place, but dey was jus' hired men. Dey was po'
white folks an' only got paid 'bout three or fo' hund'ed dollars a year.
"When we lef' Alabama we come to Mississippi. We went to de Denham
place near Garlandsville. We brought eighteen Niggers. We walked a
hund'ed miles an' it took five days an' nights. De women an' little
chaps rid[FN: rode] on de wagons (dey had five mules to de wagon) an' de
men an' de big chaps walked. My pa an' ma come along.
"We stayed on de Denham place 'bout three years. Den we moved to
Homewood an' stayed five years. I hung de boards for Marse Bob's house
in Homewood.
"Den we come to Forest. Dey brought all de fam'ly over here--all my
brothers an' sisters. Dey was five of' em--Wash an' East is de two I
'members. All o' us b'longed to de Harper fam'ly. Marse Bob owned us. My
ma an' pa both died here in Forest.
"I he'ped to build dis house for Marse Bob. I cleaned de lan' an' lef de
trees where he tol' me. He lived in a little old shack whilst we built
de Big House.
"Mr. M.D. Graham put up de firs' store here an' de secon' was put up by
my marster.
"I worked in de fiel' some, but mos'ly I was a house servant. I used to
go all over de country a-huntin' eggs an' chickens for de fam'ly on'
count dey was so much comp'ny at de house.
"A heap o' white folks was good to dey Niggers, jus' as good as dey
could be, but a heap of' em was mean, too. My mistis was good to us an'
so was Marse Jim Harper. He wouldn' let de boys 'buse us while he lived,
but when he died dey was wild an' cruel. Dey was hard taskmasters. We
was fed good three times a day, but we was whupped too much. Dat got
me. I couldn' stan' it. De old marster give us good dinners at
Chris'mus, but de young ones stopped all dat.
"De firs' train I ever seen was in Brandon. I went dere to carry some
horses for my marster. It sho' was a fine lookin' engine. I was lookin'
at it out of a upstairs window an' when it whistled I'd a-jumped out dat
window if Captain Harper hadn' a-grabbed me.
"I didn' see no fightin' in de war. When Gen'l Sherman come th'ough
here, he come by Hillsboro. Marse Bob didn' go to de war. He 'listed[FN:
enlisted], but he come right back an' went to gittin' out cross ties for
de railroad. He warnt no sojer. Colonel Harper, dat was Marse Alf, _he_
was de sojer. He warnt scared o' nothin' or nobody.
"De Yankees ask me to go to de war, but I tol' 'em, 'I aint no rabbit to
live in de woods. My marster gives me three good meals a day an' a good
house an' I aint a-goin'.' Marse Bob used to feed us fine an' he was
good to us. He wouldn' let no overseer touch his Niggers, but he whupped
us, hisse'f.
"Den de Yankees tol' me I was free, same as dey was. I come an' tol'
Marse Bob I was a-goin'. He say, 'If you don't go to work, Nigger, you
gwine a-git whupped.' So I run away an' hid out in de woods. De nex' day
I went to Meridian. I cooked for de sojers two months, den I come back
to Forest an' worked spikin' ties for de railroad.
"I hear'd a heap of talk 'bout Jeff Davis an' Abe Lincoln, but didn'
know nothin' 'bout 'em. We hear'd 'bout de Yankees fightin' to free us,
but we didn' b'lieve it 'til we hear'd 'bout de fightin' at Vicksburg.
"I voted de 'publican ticket after de surrender, but I didn' bother wid
no politics. I didn' want none of 'em.
"De Kloo Kluxers[FN: Ku Klux's] was bad up above here, but I never seen
any. I hear'd tell of 'em whuppin' folks, but I don't know nothin' 'bout
it, much.
"Mos' all de Niggers dat had good owners stayed wid 'em, but de others
lef'. Some of 'em come back an' some didn'.
"I hear'd a heap o' talk 'bout ever' Nigger gittin forty acres an' a
mule. Dey had us fooled up 'bout it, but I never seen nobody git
nothin'.
"I hope dey won't be no more war in my time. Dat one was turrible. Dey
can all go dat wants to, but I aint a-goin'.
"I seen Gen'l Grant at Vicksburg after de war. (He was a little short
man.) All de Niggers went dere for somethin'--me 'mongst 'em. I don't
know what we went for.
"I took to steamboatin' at Vicksburg 'cause I could cut[FN: place for
storage or shipment] cotton so good. (I could cut cotton now wid a
cotton hook if I warnt so old.)
"I steamboated twixt New Orleans an' St. Louis on de 'Commonwealth,' a
freight packet, way up yonder in St. Louis. I don't know what country
dat was in. But de rousters had a big fight one night in New Orleans,
shootin' an' cuttin', so I lef'. When I got back to Vicksburg, I quit.
"I picked cotton in de Delta awhile, but de folks, white an' black, is
too hard. Dey don't care 'bout nothin! I was in Greenville when de
water come. I hear'd a noise like de wind an' I asked dem Niggers, 'Is
dat a storm?' Dey said, 'No, dat's de river comin' th'ough an' you
better come back 'fore de water ketch[FN: catch] you.' I say, 'If it
ketch me it gwine a-ketch me on my way home.' I aint been back since.
"Den I come back here an' went to farmin' an' I been here ever since. I
bought forty-seven acres an' a nice little house. De house burnt down,
but de white folks built me a better one. Dey's good an' kin' to me. Dey
say I's a good man.
"My wife was six year old at de surrender. She b'longed to Marse Alf,
but we was free when we married. We had sixteen chillun. Mos' of 'em
lives 'roun 'here. Some in Newton, some in Scott, an' some in Texas. My
wife died two years ago las' March.
"Marse Bob died right here in dis here house. He died a po' man. If my
old mistis had a-been here she wouldn' a-let' em treat him like dey
done. If I'd a-been here I wouldn' a-let' em done like dat, neither.
"I been a-livin' by myse'f since my wife died. My son, Oscar, lives on
de lan' an' rents it from me.
"I don't know what's gwine a-happen to de young folks now-a-days. Dey
know better, but dey's wild an' don't care 'bout nothin'. I aint got no
time to fool wid 'em. Looks like dey don't care 'bout workin' at
nothin'.
"I been a-workin' all my life, an' I'se seen good times an' bad times. I
loves to work yet. I's gwine out now soon's I git my dinner an' he'p
finish pickin' dat patch o' cotton. I can pick two hund'ed pounds a day
an' I's one hund'ed an' sixteen year old. I picks wid both han's an'
don't have to stoop much. My back don't never ache me atall. My mammy
teached me to pick cotton. She took a pole to me if I didn' do it right.
I been a-pickin ever since. I'd ruther pick cotton dan eat, any day.
"But I'se seen enough. I's jus' a-waitin' for de call to meet all my
folks in Heaven. Dey's a better place dan dis an' I's a-tryin' to treat
ever'body right so's I can git to go to it.
"I's listenin' hard for dat call an' I know it won't be long a-comin'."
Susan Snow, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County
FEC
W.B. Allison
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes
SUSAN SNOW
Meridian, Mississippi
"Aunt Sue" Snow, a rather small and profusely wrinkled 87-year-old
ex-slave, lives in the Negro quarters of the South Side in Meridian.
In spite of her wild escapades, her reputation for honesty and
reliability is high and she carries and exhibits with pride numerous
letters attesting that fact.
She often finds it necessary to stand and act the story she is telling.
Her memory is amazing and she turns with equal readiness to copious
quotations from the Scripture and other pious observations to amusing
but wholly unprintable anecdotes of her somewhat lurid past.
"I was born in Wilcox County, Alabama, in 1850. W.J. Snow was my old
marster. He bought my ma from a man named Jerry Casey. Venus was her
name, but dey mos'ly called her 'Venie.'
"I's workin' now for one o' my old folks. I can't work much--jus'
carries things to 'er an' such. She's my old mistis' own daughter an'
she's got gran'chillun grown an' married. All de chillun dat's livin' is
older'n me.
"When her pa bought my mammy, I was a baby. Her pa owned a heap o'
Niggers. I's de only one still hangin' aroun'.
"My ma was a black African an' she sho' was wild an' mean. She was so
mean to me I couldn' b'lieve she was my mammy. Dey couldn' whup her
widout tyin' her up firs'. Sometimes my marster would wait 'til de nex'
day to git somebody to he'p tie her up, den he'd forgit to whup 'er. Dey
used to say she was a cunger an' dey was all scared of 'er. But my ma
was scared o' cungers, too.
"All de Niggers on de place was born in de fam'ly an' was kin, 'cept my
ma. She tol' me how dey brought her from Africa. You know, like we say
'President' in dis country, well dey call him 'Chief' in Africa. Seem
like de Chief made 'rangements wid some men an' dey had a big goober
grabbin' for de young folks. Dey stole my ma an' some more an' brung 'em
to dis country.
"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout havin' no pa. You know, honey, in dem
days husbands an' wives didn' b'long to de same folks. My ma say her
husband was so mean dat after us lef' Alabama she didn' want to marry no
more.
"A man didn' git to see his wife 'cept twict a week. Dat was Wednesday
an' Satu'd'y night.
"De women had to walk a chalk line. I never hear'd tell o' wives runnin'
'roun' wid other men in dem days.
"I was raised in Jasper County. Marster bought lan' from ever'body
'roun' 'til he had a big plantation. He had Niggers, horses, mules,
cows, hogs, an' chickens. He was a rich man, den.
"Ever' Nigger had a house o' his own. My ma never would have no board
floor like de res' of' em, on' count she was a African--only dirt. (Dey
say she was 108 year old when she died.)
"Us went to church wid de white folks if us wanted to. Dey didn' make
us. I didn' go much, 'cause I didn' have 'ligion, den. Us didn' have no
schoolin'. Us could go to school wid de white chillun if us wanted to,
but didn' nobody teach us. I's educated, but I aint educated in de
books. I's educated by de licks an' bumps I got.
"My white folks was good people an' didn' whup nobody, 'less dey needed
it. Some o' de Niggers was sho' 'nough bad. Dey used to take de
marster's horses out at night an' ride 'em down. One Nigger, Sam, got
dat mad at a mule for grabbin' at cotton he cut his tongue out. Course,
Marster whupped him, but when he went to look for 'im 'bout a hour
after, he foun' 'im soun' asleep. Said he ought to kill 'im, but he
didn'.
"When we was sick dey had a doctor for us jus' like dey done for
deyse'ves. Dey called 'im in to 'scribe for us. I was snake-bit when I
was eight year old. Dey used to be a medicine named 'lobelia.' De doctor
give me dat an' whiskey. My ma carried me up to de Big House ever'
mornin' an' lef' me, an' carried me home at night. Old Mis' 'ud watch
over me in de day time.
"My young marster tol' me dat when I got to be ten year old, I'd have a
snake coiled up on my liver. Dat scared me mos' to death 'til I was past
ten year old.
"Dey made all de Niggers' clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun, dey
called it. Dey had spinnin' wheels an' cards an' looms at de Big House.
All de women spinned in de winter time.
"I never knowed what it was to wear more dan one garment, 'til I was
mos' grown. I never had a pair o' shoes o' my own. Old Mis' let me wear
her'n sometimes. Dey had shoes for de old folks, but not for de chillun.
"I got more whuppin's dan any other Nigger on de place, 'cause I was
mean like my mammy. Always a-fightin' an' scratchin' wid white an'
black. I was so bad Marster made me go look at de Niggers dey hung to
see what dey done to a Nigger dat harm a white man.
"I's gwine tell dis story on myse'f. De white chillun was a-singin' dis
song:
'Jeff Davis, long an' slim,
Whupped old Abe wid a hick'ry limb.
Jeff Davis is a wise man, Lincoln is a fool,
Jeff Davis rides a gray, an' Lincoln rides a mule.'
I was mad anyway, so I hopped up an' sung dis one:
'Old Gen'l Pope had a shot gun,
Filled it full o' gum,
Killed 'em as dey come.
Called a Union band,
Make de Rebels un'erstan'
To leave de lan',
Submit to Abraham.'
"Old Mis' was a-standin' right b'hin' me. She grabbed up de broom an'
laid it on me. She made _me_ submit. I caught de feathers, don't you
forgit it.
"I didn' know it was wrong. I'd hear'd de Niggers sing it an' I didn'
know dey was a-singin' in dey sleeves. I didn' know nothin' 'bout Abe
Lincoln, but I hear'd he was a-tryin' to free de Niggers an' my mammy
say she want to be free.
"De young folks used to make up a heap o' songs, den. Dey'd
decompose[FN: compose] dey own songs an' sing' em. I never will forgit
one song dey sung when dey buried anybody. It made Old Marster, Mistis,
an' all of' em cry. Us chillun cried, too. It went like dis:
'My mother prayed in de wilderness,
In de wilderness,
In de wilderness.
My mother prayed in de wilderness.
An' den I'm a-goin' home.
Chorus:
Den I'm a-goin' home,
Den I'm a-goin' home.
We'll all make ready, Lawd,
An' den I'm a-goin' home.
She plead her cause in de wilderness,
In de wilderness,
In de wilderness.
She plead her cause in de wilderness.
An' den I'm a-goin' home.'
(Repeat chorus)
"Old Aunt Hannah fell to my marster from his daddy. She had twelve
chillun a-workin' on de place. De oldes' was named Adam an' de littlest
was named Eve. She had two twins what was named Rachel an' Leah. Dey
nussed my mistis' two twins. Dey kep' one a-nussin' mos' all de time.
"My ma was de cause o' my marster a-firin' all de overseers. (Dey blamed
ever'thing on her 'cause she was de only bought Nigger.) Marster say she
was a valuable Nigger, but she was so mean he was afraid dey'd kill her.
He say, 'She'll work widout no watchin' an' overseers aint nothin',
nohow.'
"Dey was a white man--I aint lyin'--I know him an' I seen him. He had
Nigger houn's an' he made money a-huntin' runaway Niggers. His own
Niggers kilt 'im. Dey hung 'em for it. Two was his Niggers an' one
b'long to somebody else.
"My young marster used to work in de fiel' wid us. He'd boss de Niggers.
Dey called 'im Bud, but us all called 'im 'Babe.' Honey, I sho' did love
dat boy.
"When de war come dey used to tease him an' say, 'Bud, why don't you go
to de war?' Dey laughed an' teased 'im when he went. But twant no
laughin' when he come home on a furlough an' went back. Dey was cryin'
den. An' well dey mought[FN: might] cry, 'cause he never come back no
more'. He was kilt in de war.
"Endurin' de war, de white folks made dey clo'es same as de Niggers. Old
Mis' made dye an' dyed de thread. She made pretty cloth.
"My ma was de firs' to leave de plantation after de surrender. All de
other Niggers had a contrac' to stay, but she didn'. She went to Newton
County an' hired out. She never wanted to stay in one place, nohow. If
she had a crop ha'f made an' somebody made her mad, she'd up an' leave
it an' go some'r's else.
"You know, dey was mighty strict, 'bout den, wid cullud folks, an' white
people, too. De Kloo Kluxes was out nights. I hear'd tell 'bout 'em
whuppin' people. But dey never bothered me.
"Dey was speakers gwine aroun', tellin' de Niggers what dey was gwine
a-git. Dey never got nothin' to my knowledge, 'cept de gov'ment let 'em
homestead lan'. My ma homesteaded a place close to Enterprise, Scott
County, but she got mad an' lef' it like she always done.
"She was a-gittin' long in years afore she got 'ligion. (She was good to
me after dat.) She couldn' learn de Lawd's Prayer, but she used to pray,
'Our Father, which are in Heaven; Hallowed be Thy name. Thy mercy, Lawd,
You've showed to others; That mercy show to me. Amen.' She went to res'
in it, too.
"I went to Enterprise, den to Meridian, nussin' (wet-nussin' when I
could) an' workin' out. I never worked in de fiel', if I could he'p it.
(Old Mis' hired me out as a nuss firs' when I was eight year old.)
"When I come to Meridian, I cut loose. I's tellin' de truf! I's a woman,
but I's a prodigal. I used to be a old drunkard. My white folks kep'
tellin' me if I got locked up one more time dey wouldn' pay my fine. But
dey done it ag'in an' ag'in.
"De Niggers called me 'Devil.' I was a devil 'til I got 'ligion. I warnt
baptized 'til 1887. Den I foun' peace. I had a vision. I tol' it to a
white lady an' she say, 'Susie, dat's 'ligion a-callin' you.' (But you
know, honey, white folks' 'ligion aint like Niggers' 'ligion. I know a
woman dat couldn' 'member de Lawd's Prayer, an' she got 'ligion out o'
prayin', 'January, February, March'.) I didn' join de church 'til 1891,
after I had a secon' vision. I's a member in good standin' now. I done
put all my badness b'hin' me, 'cept my temper. I even got dat under more
control.
"I didn' used to be scared o' cunjers. I's scared now, 'cause I had it
done to me. I want to bed well an' healthy an' de nex' nornin' I couldn'
git up atall. I's tellin de truf. A cullud man done it. He was a
crippled man, an' mean as he could be. I was good to him, too. He tol'
me' bout it, hisse'f:
"'He went to de graveyard an' got some o' de meanes' dirt he could fin'
(I don't know how he knowed which was de meanes' grave) an' put it under
my doorsill.' He sho' fix' me. I ask him how come he done it to me an' I
been so good to him. He smile kinda tickle-lak an' say, 'It's a good
thing you was good to me, 'cause, if you hadn' a-been you'd a-been dead
an' in yo' grave by now.'
"I aint got nary soul what's kin to me dat I knows of. I don't want none
of 'em comin' to me now an' a-sayin', 'Don't you 'member yo' own
cousin?' My white folks he'p me when I needs it.
"Dese young folks. Shucks! Chile, dey's worse'n what I was, only dey's
more slyer. Dat's all.
"I's glad I'se got 'ligion, 'cause when I dies I's gwine to de 'Good
Place.'"
Isaac Stier, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County
FEC
Edith Wyatt Moore
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes
ISAAC STIER
Natchez, Mississippi
"Miss, my name is Isaac Stier, but folks calls me 'Ike.' I was named by
my pappy's young Marster an' I aint never tol' nobody all o' dat name.
It's got twenty-two letters in it. It's wrote but in de fam'ly Bible.
Dat's how I knows I'll be one hund'ed years old if I lives 'til de turn
o' de year. I was born in Jefferson County 'tween Hamburg an' Union
Church. De plantation joined de Whitney place an' de Montgomery place,
too. I b'longed to Marse Jeems Stowers. I don't rightly 'member how many
acres my Marster owned, but 'twas a big plantation wid eighty or ninety
head o' grown folks workin' it. No tellin' how many little black folks
dey was.
"My mammy was Ellen Stier an' my pappy was Jordon Stier. He was bought
to dis country by a slave dealer from Nashville, Tennessee. Dey traveled
all de way through de Injun Country on afoot. Dey come on dat Trace
road. Twant nothin' but a Injun Trail.
"When dey got to Natchez de slaves was put in de pen 'tached to de slave
markets. It stood at de forks o' St. Catherine Street an' de Liberty
road. Here dey was fed an' washed an' rubbed down lak race hosses. Den
dey was dressed up an' put through de paces dat would show off dey
muscles. My pappy was sol' as a twelve year old, but he always said he
was nigher twenty.
"De firs' man what bought him was a preacher, but he only kep' 'im a
little while. Den he was sol' to Mr. Preacher Robinson. He was a
Methodis'.
"De slaves was well treated when dey got sick. My Marster had a standin'
doctor what he paid by de year. Dey was a horspital building near de
quarters an' a good old granny woman to nuss de sick. Dey was five or
six beds in a room. One room was for mens an' one for wimmins. Us doctor
was name Richardson an' he tended us long after de war. He sho' was a
gent'man an' a powerful good doctor.
"Us had a overseer on de place, but he warnt mean lak I'se heard o'
other folks havin'. He was Mr. William Robinson. He was good to
ever'body, both white an' cullud. Folks didn' min' workin' for him,
'cause, he spoke kin'. But dey dassen' sass 'im. He was poor. My pappy
b'longed to his pa, Mr. John Robinson. Dat was a nice fam'ly wid sho'
'nough 'ligion. Whilst dey warnt rich, dey had learnin'.
"As a little tike I wore long slip-lak shirts. When dey sont me to town
I put on britches an' stuffed de tail o' my slip in 'em so's it pass'
for a shirt. I always lived in de Big House an' played wid de white
chillun. I sorta looked after' em. I carried 'em to school. Den whilst
dey was in school I roamed de woods a-huntin'. Sometimes I'd git a big
bag o' game, mos'ly used to feed de slaves.
"My mistis was Miss Sarah Stowers an' she teached me how to read. She
teached me how to be mannerly, too. On church days I driv'[FN: drove] de
carriage. I was proud to take my folks to meetin'. I always set in de
back pew an' heard de preachin' de same as dey did.
"De bes' times I can 'member always come 'roun' de Fourth o' July. Dat
was always de beginnin' o' camp-meetin'. Aint nothin' lak dat in dese
days.
"Ever'body what had any standin' went. Dey cooked up whole trunks full
o' good things t'eat an' driv' over to de camp groun's. De preacher had
a big pavilion covered wid sweet-gum branches an' carpeted wid sawdust.
Folks had wagons wid hay an' quilts whar de men-folks slep'. De ladies
slep' in little log houses an' dey took dey feather beds wid' em. I
always driv' de carriage for my white folks. Whilst dey was a-worshipin'
I'd slip 'roun' an' tas' out o' dey basket. Ever' day I'd eat 'til I was
ready to bus'. One day I got so sick I thought I'd pop wide open. I
crawled down to de spring an' washed my face in col' water, but I kep'
gittin' worse an' worse. Den somebody called out: 'Captain Stier, yo'
Nigger's a-dyin'!' My marster called de doctor. He sho' was shamed in
public, 'cause, he knowed pos'tive I'd been a-pilferin' in dem baskets.
Dem sho' was good old days. I'd love to live' em over ag'in.
"Us slaves mos'ly sung hymns an' sa'ms.[TR: footnote indicated but none
found] But I' member one song' bout a frog pond an' one 'bout 'Jump, Mr.
Toad.' I's too wordless to sing 'em now, but dey was funny. Us danced
plenty, too. Some o' de men clogged an' pidgeoned, but when us had
dances dey was real cotillions, lak de white folks had. Dey was always
a fiddler an', on Chris'mus an' other holidays, de slaves was' lowed to'
vite dey sweethearts from other plantations. I use to call out de
figgers: 'Ladies, sasshay, Gents to de lef, now all swing.' Ever'body
lak my calls an' de dancers sho' moved smooth an' pretty. Long after de
war was over de white folks would 'gage me to come' roun' wid de band
an' call de figgers at all de big dances. Dey always paid me well.