1
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938
Interviewer – W.W. Dixon
Adamson, Frank (82) Robertson, Alexander (84)
Barber, Charley (81) Robinson, Charlie (87)
Barber, Ed (77) Rosboro, Al (90)
Barber, Millie (82) Rosboro, Tom (79)
Bates, Anderson (87) Rosborough, Reuben (82)
Bell, Annie (83) Russell, Benjamin (88)
Brice, Andy (81) Smith, Dan (75)
Broome, Anne (87) Starke, Rosa (83)
Brown, John C. (86) and Adeline (96) Stewart, Josephine (85)
Burrell, Savilla (83) Taylor, Mack (97)
Cameron, Nelson (81) Toatley, Robert (82)
Campbell, Thomas (82) Thompson, Delia (88)
Clifton, Peter (89) Walker, Ned (83)
Collins, John (85) Walker, Manda (80)
Craig, Caleb (86) Watson, Charley (87)
Cunningham, Dinah (84) Williams, Bill (82)
Davis, Henry (80) Williams, Jesse (83)
Davis, Jesse (85) Woodward, Aleck (83)
Davis, Louisa (106) Woodward, Mary (83)
Dixon, Thomas (75)
Evans, Lewis (96)
Evans, Phillip (85)
Gladney, Henry (82)
Gibson, Grace (86) Lumpkin, Amy (88)
Guntharpe, Violet (82) Woodberry, Julia
Harris, Abe (74) Boulware, Samuel
Harrison, Eli (87) Kelley, Jin (aka Ham Cloud)
Hasty, Eliza (85) Feaster, Gus
Henry, Jim (77)
Holmes, Cornelius (82)
Jackson, Adeline (88)
Jenkins, Henry D. (87)
Johnson, Adeline (93)
Johnson, Jack (84)
Johnson, Miemy (82)
Kelly, Ella (81)
Leitner, Ben (85)
Lyles, Moses (81)
Marion, Andy (92)
McAlilley, George (84)
McCrorey, Ed (Mack, Ed) (82)
McNeil, Bill (82)
Milling, Cureton (80)
Moore, Charity (75)
Moore, Sena (83)
Raines, Mary (99)
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Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
ABE [Lyles] HARRIS
EX-SLAVE 74 YEARS OLD.
Abe Harris lives about nine miles southwest of the town ofWinnsboro, South Carolina. His
home is a two-room frame house, with rock chimneys of roughmasonry at each gable end. It is the
property of Mr. Daniel Heyward. Abe is one-fourth white and thismixture shows in his features. He is
still vigorous and capable of light manual labor.
“My father was Samuel Lyles. My mother’s name was Phenie Lyles.My father and mother had
fifteen chillun. I am de only one livin’. De last one to die wasmy brother, Stocklin, that tended to de
flowers and gardens of people in Winnsboro for many years. Hewas found dead, one mornin’, in de
Fortune Park woods.
“My parents b’long to Captain Tom Lyles, in slavery time. Fatherwas de hog man. He ‘tended
to de hogs; didn’t pasture them as they do now. Marster had adrove of eighty or more in de fall of de
year befo’ hog killin’ time. They run ‘bout in de woods foracorns and hickory nuts and my father had to
keep up wid them and bring them home. He pen them, feed them,and slop them at night.
“My white folks was de fust white settlers in de county. De fustone was name Ephram, so I hear
them tell many times. They fought in all wars dat have beenfought. My old marster, Tom, live up ‘til de
Civil War and although he couldn’t walk, he equip and pay a manto go in his place. When Sherman’s
men come to de house, he was in bed wid a dislocated hip. Theythought he was shammin’, playin’
‘possum, so to speak. One of de raiders, a Yankee, come wid alighted torch and say: ‘Unless you give
me de silver, de gold, and de money, I’ll burn you alive.’ Himreply: ‘I haven’t many more years to live.
Burn and be damned!’ De Yankee was surprised at his bravery,ordered father to take de torch from
under de bed and say: ‘You ‘bout de bravest man I ever see inSouth Carolina.’
“His wife, old Miss Mary, was sister to Congressman JoeWoodward. Deir house and plantation
was out at Buckhead. I was a boy eleven years old and was in dehouse when he [Captain Tom Lyles]
died, in 1874. He was de oldest person I ever saw, eighty-seven.He had several chillum. Thomas marry
Eliza Peay, de baby of Col. Austin Peay, one of de rich racehorse folks. Marse Boykin marry Miss Cora
Dantzler of Orangeburg. Him went to de war. Then Nicholas,Austin, John, and Belton, all went to de
Civil War. Austin was killed at the second Bull Run. MarseNicholas go to Alabama and become sheriff
out dere. Marse John marry Miss Morris and was clerk of courthere for twenty-eight years.
“First time I marry Emily Kinlock and had one child. Emily die.Then I marry Lizzie Brown.
Us had six chillum. When Lizzie die, I marry a widow, FrancisYoung. Us too old to have chillun.
“I live at Rion, S.C. Just piddle ‘round wid chickens and gardentruck. I sells them to de stone
cutters and de mill people of Winnsboro. I’s past de age to workhard, and I’m mighty sorry dat our race
was set free too soon.”
3
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
ADELINE JACKSON
EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD.
“I was born four miles southwest of where I is now, on de otherside of Woodward Station. I was
a slave of old Marster John Mobley, de richest man, de larges’land owner, and wid more niggers than any
other white man in de county. He was de seventh son of deseventh son, so he allowed, and you knows
dat’s a sign of a big family, lots of cows, mules, horses,money, chillun and everything dat’s worth
havin’. He had a good wife too; dis de way he got her, he say.She de daughter of old Maj. Andy
McLean, who got a body full of bullets in de Revolution; hedidn’t want Katie to marry Marster John.
Marster John git on a mule and ride up in de night. Miss Katierunned out, jump up behin’ him, run away
and marry Marster John. They had de same birthday, March 27th,but Marster John two years older than
Miss Katie. Dat day was looked to, same as Christmas, every yeardat come. Big times then, I tell you!
“My mistress had long hair, techin’ de floor and could dance, soMarster John said, wid a glass of
water on top of her head. Marster John got ‘ligion and went allde way lak de jailer in de Bible. All de
house jined wid him and mos’ of de slaves. It was Baptist and hebuilt a spankin’ good church buildin’
down de road, all out of his own money, and de cemetery dereyet. He called it ‘Fellowship’. Some fine
tombstones in dere yet. De finest cost two thousand dollars,dat’s his daughter Nancy’s tomb. Marster
John and my old mistress buried in dere.
“When my younges’ mistress, name Marion Rebecca, married hersecond cousin, Marster
Edward P. Mobley, I was give to her and went wid them to de Juneplace. It was called dat because old
Doctor June built it and sold it to Marster Ed. I nussed herfirst chillun: Edward, Moses Hill, John and
Katie. It was a large, two-story frame house, with chimneys ateach gable end. Marster Edward got to be
as rich as old Marster; he owned de June place, de Rochelleplantation, de Peay place and de Roebuck
place. Yes sir, course us had overseers for so many slaves andplantations. I ‘member Mr. Osa Brown,
Mr. Neely and Mr. Tim Gladney. In course of time I was took offde nussin’ and put to de field. I
drapped cotton seed, hoed some, and picked cotton.
“I don’t ‘member no poor buckra, outside de overseers, ‘cept aMr. Reed dat lived down on
Wateree, passin’ our house sometimes. He was a Godforsakenlookin’ man dat marster or mistress
always give somethin’.
“Our neighbors was de Peays, de Durhems, de Picketts, de Barbersand Boulwares. Doctor
Henry Gibson was our doctor. All dese folks kep’ a pack ofhounds to run deer and foxes. Yes, I has eat
many pieces of deer. Good? I wouldn’t fool you, taste it andyou’ll hunger for it ever afterward.
“Yes, sir, at certain times we worked long and hard, and you hadto be ‘ticular. De only whipping
I got was for chopping down a good corn stalk near a stump in anew ground. Marster never sold a slave
but swaps were wid kin people to advantage, slaves’ wives andhusbands sometimes. I never learned to
read or write. I went to White Poplar Springs Church, de Baptistchurch my mistress ‘tended. De
preacher was Mr. Cartledge. He allowed Miss Marion was de flowerof his flock.
“Slaves lived in quarters, a stretch of small houses off from deWhite House Patrollers often
come to search for stray slaves; wouldn’t take your word for it.They would search de house. If they
ketch some widout a pass, they whipped him. We got most ouroutside news Sunday at church. When
farm work was not pressing, we got all of Saturday to clean up‘round de houses, and wash and iron our
clothes.
“Everything lively at Christmas time, dances wid fiddles,pattin’ and stick rattlin’, but when I
jined de church, I quit dancin’.
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“After de war, a man come along on a red horse; he was dressedin a blue uniform and told us we
was free. De Yankees dat I ‘members was not gentlefolks. Theystole everything they could take and de
meanest thing I ever see was shoats they half killed, cut off dehams, and left de other parts quiverin’ on
de ground.
“I married Mose Jackson, after freedom, and had a boy, Henry.Last I heard, he was at Shelby,
North Carolina. We had a daughter, Mary, she married Eph Brown.She had ten chillum, many gran’
chillun, they’s my great-gran’ chillun. My mistress was a goodChristian woman, she give me a big
supper when I was married. Her house, durin’ de war, always hadsome sick or wounded soldier. I
‘member her brother, Zed, come home wid a leg gone. Her cousin,Theodore, was dere wid a part of his
jaw gone. My mistress could play de piano and sing de old songs.I ‘members Marster Theodore had
trouble wid de words. Dere was a song called “Jaunita’, ‘bout afountain. Marster Theodore would try
hard, but would say, everytime, ‘Jawneeta’, and de folks wouldlaugh but mistress never would crack a
smile but just go on wid another song. I thinks everybody shouldjine de church and then live right. Have
prayers in de family befo’ gitting in de bed. It would have goodchange, ‘specially in de towns I thinks.
“Yes, woman in family way worked up to near de time, but guessDoctor Gibson knowed his
business. Just befo’ de time, they was took out and put in decardin’ and spinnin’ rooms.
“Yes, I see folks put irons in de fire and some throw a bigchunk of fire into de yard to make de
screech owl stop his scary sounds.
“Befo’ I forgets, Marster Edward bought a slave in Tennesseejust ‘cause he could play de fiddle.
Named him ‘Tennessee Ike’ and he played ‘long wid Ben Murray,another fiddler. Sometime all of us
would be called up into de front yard to play and dance and singfor Miss Marion, de chillun and visitors.
I was much happier them days than now. Maybe it won’t be so badwhen I gits my old age pension.”
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Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
ADELINE JOHNSON
(alias ADELINE HALL)
EX-SLAVE 93 YEARS OLD.
Adeline Hall’s husband was Tom Johnson but she prefers to becalled “Hall”, the name of her old
master. Adeline lives with her daughter, Emma, and Emma’s sixchildren, about ten miles southeast of
Winnsboro, S.C., in a three-room frame house on the Durhamplace, a plantation owned by Mr. A.W.
Owens, of Winnsboro. The plantation contains 1,500 acres,populated by over sixty Negroes, run as a
diversified farm, under the supervision of a white overseer inthe employ of Mr. Owens.
The wide expanse of cotton and corn fields, the large number ofdusky Negro laborers working
along side by side in the fields and singing Negro spirituals asthey work, give a fair presentation or
picture of what slavery was like on a well conducted Southernplantation before the Civil war. Adeline
fits into this picture as the old Negro “Mauma” of theplantation, respected by all, white and black, and
tenderly cared for. She has her clay pipe and stick ever withher and about her. There is a spacious
pocket in her dress underneath an apron. In that pocket is amiscellany of broken pieces of china, crumbs
of tobacco a biscuit, a bit of wire, numerous strings of variouscolors, and from time to time the pipe
becomes the warm individual member of the varied assortment.
Her eyes are bright and undimmed by age and the vigor with whichshe can telegraph her wants
to the household by the rappings of that stick on the plankfloor is interesting and amusing.
She is confident that she will round out a century of years,because: “Marse Arthur Owens done
tell me I’ll live to be a hundred, if I stay on his place andnever ‘lope away wid any strange young buck
nigger”.
“I’s not so feeble as I might ‘pear, white folks. Long time Isuffer for sight, but dese last years I
see just as good as I ever did. Dats a blessin’ from deLord!
“Who I b’long to in slavery time? Where I born? I born on whatis now called de Jesse Gladden
place but it all b’long to my old marster, William Hall,then.
“My old marster was one of de richest men in de world. Him havelands in Chester and Fairfield
counties, Georgia and Florida, and one place on de Red River inArkansas. He also had a plantation, to
raise brown sugar on, in old Louisiana. Then him and hisbrudder, Daniel, built and give Bethesda
church, dats standin’ yet, to de white Methodis’ of Mitford, forthem to ‘tend and worship at. He
‘membered de Lord, you see, in all his ways and de Lord guidehis steps.
“I never have to do no field work; just stayed ‘round de houseand wait on de mistress, and de
chillun. I was whupped just one time. Dat was for markin’ demantle-piece wid a dead coal of fire. They
make mammy do de lashin’. Hadn’t hit me three licks befo’ MissDorcas, Miss Jemima, Miss Julia, and
Marse Johnnie run dere, ketch de switch, and say: ‘Dat enoughMauma Ann! Addie won’t do it agin’.
Dats all de beatin’ I ever ‘ceived in slavery time.
“Now does you wanna know what I do when I was a child, from detime I git up in de mornin’ to
de time I go to bed? I was ‘bout raised up in de house. Well, inde evenin’, I fill them boxes wid chips
and fat splinters. When mornin’ come, I go in dere and make afire for my young mistresses to git up by.
I help dress them and comb deir hair. Then I goes down stairsand put flowers on de breakfas’ table and
lay de Bible by Marse William’s chair. Then I bring in debreakfas’. (Table have to be set de night befo’)
When everything was on de table, I ring de bell. White folkscome down and I wait on de table.
“After de meal finish, Marse William read de Bible and pray. Iclear de table and help wash de
dishes. When dat finish, I cleans up de rooms. Then I acts asmaid and waitress at dinner and supper. I
6
warms up de girls’ room, where they sleep, after supper. Then gohome to poppy John and Mauma Anne.
Dat was a happy time, wid happy days!
“Dat was a happy family. Marse William have no trouble, ‘ceptonce when him brudder, Daniel,
come over one mornin’ and closet wid Marse William. When MarseDaniel go, Marse William come in
dere where me and de mistress was an say: ‘Tom’s run away fromschool’. (Dats one of Marse Daniel’s
boys dat ‘tended school at Mt. Zion, in Winnsboro) Her ‘low:‘What him run away for?’ ‘Had a fool
duel wid a Caldwell boy,’ him say. I hear no more ‘bout dat ‘tilMarse Tom come home and then I hear
plenty. White folks been laughin’ ‘bout it ever since. Specialtalk ‘bout it since Marse Tom’s grandson
b’come a United State Judge. Bet Marse Dan Hall told you ‘boutit. Want me to go ahead and tell you it
my way? Well, ‘twas dis way: Marse Tom and Marse Joe Caldwellfell out ‘bout a piece of soap when
they was roomin’ together at school. Boys crowd ‘round them andsay: ‘Fight it out!’ They hit a lick or
two, and was parted. Then de older boys say dere must be a duel.Marse Joe git seconds. Marse Tom git
seconds. They load guns wid powder but put no bullets in them.Tell Marse Joe ‘bout it but don’t tell
Marse Tom. Then they go down town, fix up a bag of pokeberryjuice, and have it inside Marse Joe’s
vestcoat, on his breast. Took them out in a field, face them,and say: ‘One, two, three, fire!’ Guns went
off, Marse Joe slap his hand on his chest, and de bag bust. Redjuice run all over him. Older boys say:
‘Run Tom and git out de way.’ Marse Tom never stop ‘til him gitto Liverpool, England. Marse William
and Marse Daniel find him dere, sent money for to fetch him homeand him laugh ‘bout it when he git
back. Yes sir, dat is de grandpappy of Marse Lyle Glenn, bigjudge right now.
“De white folks near, was de Mellichamps, de Gladdens, deMobleys, Lumpkins, Boulwares,
Fords, Picketts, and Johnsons.
“When de Yankees come, they was struck dumb wid de way marsteracted. They took things,
wid a beg your pardon kind of way, but they never burnt a singlething, and went off wid deir tails twixt
deir legs, kinda sham lak.
“After freedom I marry a preacher, Tom Johnson. Him die when inhis sixties, thirty years ago.
Our chillun was Emma, Mansell, Tom, and Grover. Bad white folksdidn’t lak my husband. Dere was a
whiskey still, near our house where you could git three gallonsof liquor for a silver dollar. Him preach
agin’ it. Dat gall both makers and drinkers. Him ‘duredpersecution for de Lord’s sake, and have gone
home to his awards.
“In slavery, us have all de clothes us need, all de food uswant, and work all de harder ‘cause us
love de white folks dat cared for us. No sirree, none of ourslaves ever run ‘way. Us have a week off,
Christmas. Go widout a pass to Marse Daniel’s quarters and theycome to our’n.
“Dr. Scott and Dr. Douglas ‘tend sick slaves. I don’t set myselfup to judge Marse Abe Lincoln.
Dere is sinners, black and white, but I hope and prays to git tohebben. Whether I’s white or black when I
git dere, I’ll be satisfied to see my Savior dat my old marsterworshipped and my husband preach ‘bout. I
wants to be in hebben wid all my white folks, just to wait onthem, and love them and serve them, sorta
lak I did in slavery time. Dat will be ‘nough hebben forAdeline.”
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Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
AL ROSBORO
EX-SLAVE 90 YEARS OLD.
Al Rosboro, with his second wife, Julia, a daughter, and sixsmall grandchildren, lives in a three-
room frame house, three hundred yards east of the SouthernRailway track and US #21, about two miles
south of Woodward, S.C., in Fairfield County. Mr. Brice givesthe plot of ground, four acres with the
house, to Al, rent free. A white man, Mr. W.L. Harvey does theploughing of the patches for him. Al has
cataracts on his eyes and can do no work. Since this story waswritten he has received his first old age
pension check of eight dollars from the Social welfare Board inColumbia, S.C.
“Does I know what a nonagenarian is? No sah, what dat? Oldfolks? Well, dats a mighty long
name and I been here a mighty long time. Glad you say it’s ahonor and a privilege by de marcy of de
Lord. I’s thankful! You wants to know where I was born and whomy white folks then?
“I was born just one and a half mile b’low White Oak, S.C., onde old Marse Billie Brice place.
My pappy b’long to old Miss Jennie Rosboro, but mammy b’long toMarse William Brice. Her name
Ann. My old mistress name Mary, daughter of de Simontons, onDupers Creek.
“You want de fust thing I ‘members, then travel ‘long de years‘til I come to settin’ right here in
dis chair. Well, reckon us git through today? Take a powerfulsight of dat pencil to put it all down.
“Let me see. Fust thing I ‘members well, was a big crowd widpicks and shovels, a buildin’ de
railroad track right out de other side of de big road in frontof old marster’s house. De same railroad dat
is dere today. When de fust engine come through, puffin’ andtootin’, lak to scare ‘most everybody to
death. People got use to it but de mules and horses of oldmarster seem lak they never did. A train of cars
a movin’ ‘long is still de grandest sight to my eyes in deworld. Excite me more now than greyhound
busses, or airplanes in de sky ever do.
“I nex’ ‘members my young misses and young marsters. Dere wasMarse John: he was kilt in de
war. Marse Jim, dat went to de war, come back, marry, and liveright here in Winnsboro. Marse Jim got
a grandson dat am in de army a sailin’ air-ships. Then dere wasMarse William; he moved off. One of de
gals marry a Robertson, I can’t ‘member her name, tho’ I helpher to make mud pies many a day and put
them on de chicken coop, in de sun, to dry. Her had two dolls;deir names was Dorcas and Priscilla.
When de pies got dry, she’d take them under de big oak treefetch out de dolls and talk a whole lot of
child mother talk ‘bout de pies, to de Dorcas and Priscilla ragdolls. It was big fun for her tho’ and I can
hear her laugh right now lak she did when she mince ‘round overthem dolls and pies. Dere was some
poor folks livin’ close by and she’d send me over to ‘vite deirchillun over to play wid her. They was
name Marshall. Say they come from Virginny and was kin to dehighest judge in de land. They was poor
but they was proud. Mistress felt sorry for them but theywouldn’t ‘cept any help from her.
“Well, when I git twelve years old, marster give me to his son,Marse Calvin, and give Marse
Calvin a plantation dat his son, Homer, live on now. I ‘membernow old marster’s overseer comin’ to de
field; his name was McElduff. Him say: ‘Al, Marse William saycome to de house’. I goes dere on de
run. When I get dere, him ‘low: ‘Calvin, I wants you to take Al,I give him to you. Al, you take good
care of your young marster’. I always did and if Marse Calvinwas livin’ he’d tell you de same.
“I forgit to tell you one thing dat happen down dere befo’ Ileft. Dere was a powerful rich family
down dere name Cockrell; I forgets de fust name. Him bruddertho’, was sheriff and live in Winnsboro.
Dere was a rich Mobley family dat live jinin’ him, two milessunrise side of him. One day de Cockrell
cows got out and played thunder wid Mr. Mobley’s corn. Mr.Mobley kilt two of de cows. Dat made de
Cockrells mad. They too proud to go to law ‘bout it; they justbide deir time. One day Marse Ed
Mobley’s mules got out, come gallopin’ ‘round and stop in deCockrell wheat field. Him take his rifle
8
and kill two of them mules. Dat made Mr. Mobley mad but him tooproud to go to law ‘bout it. De
Mobley’s just bide deir time. ‘Lection come ‘round for sheriffnex’ summer. No Cockrell was ‘lected
sheriff dat time. You ask Mr. Hugh Wylie ‘bout dat nex’ time himcome to de Boro. Him tell you all
‘bout it.
“Dat call to my mind another big man, dat live ‘bove White Oakthen, Marse Gregg Cameron.
He was powerful rich, wid many slaves. Him lak to barroom anddrink. Him come by marster’s house
one day, fell off his hoss and de hoss gallop on up de road. Datwas de fust drunk man I ever see.
Marster didn’t know what to do; him come into de house and askMistress Mary. Him tell her him didn’t
want to scandal de chillun. She say: ‘What would de goodSamaritan do?’ Old marster go back, fetch dat
groanin’, cussin’, old man and put him to bed, bathe his head,make Sam, de driver, hitch up de buggy,
make West go wid him, and take Marse Gregg home. I never see orhear tell of dat white man anymore,
‘til one day after freedom when I come down here to Robinson’sCircus. Him drop dead dat day at de
parade, when de steam piano come ‘long a tootin’. ‘Spect de‘citement, steam, and tootin’, was too much
for him.
“Niggers never learn to read and write. It was ‘ginst de law.White folks fear they would write
deir passes and git ‘way to de free states.
“Us slaves ‘tend Concord church, tho’ Marse Calvin jine deSeceders and ‘tend New Hope. Why
us go to Concord? ‘Cause it too far to walk to New Hope and nottoo far to walk to Concord. Us have
not ‘nough mules for all to ride, and then de mules need a rest.I now b’longs to Bethany Presbyterian
Church at White Oak. Yes sah, I thinks everybody ought to jinede church for it’s de railroad train to git
to hebben on.
“Marse Calvin went to de war. Him got shot thru de hand. Yankeescome and burn up
everything him have. Wheeler’s men just as bad.
“After freedom I got mannish. Wid not a drop of blood in me butde pure African, I sets out to
find a mate of de pure breed. ‘Bout de onliest place I couldfind one of dis hatchin’, was de Gaillard
quarter. I marry Gabrielle. Live fust years at de Walt BriceMcCullough place, then move to de Winson
place, then to de preacher Erwin place. Dat was a fine preacher,him pastor for Concord. Him lak to
swap hosses. When him come down out de pulpit him looks ‘roundsee a hoss him lak, soon as not him
go home to dinner wid de owner of dat hoss. After dinner himsay: ‘If it wasn’t de Sabbath, how would
you trade dat hoss for my hoss?’ More words pass between them,just supposin’ all de time it was
Monday. Then Mr. Erwin ride back dere nex’ day and come back widde hoss him took a fancy for.
“Mr. Erwin move when he git a call to Texas. I moves to de BobSimonton place. From dere I
goes to de Jim Brice place, now owned by young Marse JamesBrice. I been dere 32 years. Gabrielle and
me generate thirteen chillun, full blooded natural bornAfricans, seven boys and six gals. Then Gabrielle
die and I marry Julia Jenkins. Us have five chillum, one boy andfour gals. I’s done a heap for my
country. I wants Mr. Roosevelt to hear ‘bout dat; then maybe himmake de country do sumpin’ for me.”
9
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
ALECK WOODWARD
EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD.
“You knows de Simonton place, Mr. Wood? Well, dats just where Iwas born back yonder befo’
de war, a slave of old Marster Johnnie Simonton. Five milessorter south sunset side of Woodward
Station where you was born, ain’t it so? My pappy was IkeWoodward, but him just call ‘Ike’ time of
slavery, and my mammy was name Dinah. My brother Charlie upnorth, if he ain’t dead, Ike lives in
Asheville, North Carolina. Two sisters: Ollie, her marry anAiken, last counts, and she and her family in
Charlotte, North Carolina; sister Mattie marry a Wilson Nigger,but I don’t know where they is.
“Us lived in a four-room log house, ‘bout sixteen all told. Derewas pappy and mammy (now you
count them) gran’pappy, Henry Davis, Gran’mammy Kisana, AuntAnna, and her seven chillum, and me,
and my two brothers and two sisters. How many make dat?Seventeen? Well, dat’s de number piled in
dere at night in de beds and on de floors. They was scandlousbeds; my God, just think of my grands, old
as I is now, tryin’ to sleep on them hard beds and other folkspiled ‘scriminately all over de log floors!
My Gran’pappy Henry was de carpenter, and old marster tell him‘if you make your beds hard, Henry,
‘member you folks got to sleep on them.’
“I was just a little black feller, running ‘round most of detime in my shirt tail, but I recollect
pickin’ cotton, and piddling ‘round de woodpile, fetchin’ inwood for white house and chips and kindling
to fresh up de fires. Us had plenty to eat, ‘cause us killedthirty-five hogs at a time, and de sausages and
lights us did was a sight. Then de lard us made, and decracklin’ bread, why, I hungers for de sight of
them things right now. Us niggers didn’t get white flour bread,but de cracklin’ bread was called on our
place, ‘de sweet savor of life.’
“Money? Us had eyes to see and ears to hear, but us just hear‘bout it, never even seen money.
“My marster had a fish pond, signs of it dere yet.
“My white folks attended church at Concord Presbyterian Church.Us went dere too, and us set
up in de gallery. Yes, they asked us. De preacher asked us tojine in some of de hymns, especially ‘De
Dyin’ thief’ and ‘De Fountain Filled Wid Blood,’ and dat one‘bout ‘Mazing Grace How Sweet de Sound
Dat Save a Wretch Like us.’
“Our young Marster Charlie went off to de war, got killed atSecond Bull Run. Marster Watt
went and got a leg shot off somewhere. Marster Jim went and gotkilled, Johnnie too, Marster Robert was
not old enough to carry a gun.
“De young mistresses was Mary and Martha. Marster John, oldmistress and all of them mighty
good to us, especially when Christmas come and then at times ofsickness. They send for de doctor and
set up wid you, such tendin’ to make you love them. When deYanks come us all plead for Marster John
and family, and de house not to be burnt. De house big, had tenrooms, big plantation, run fifteen plows.
“You ask ‘bout, was dere any poor white folks ‘round? Not many,but I ‘members old Miss
Sallie Carlisle weaved and teached de slaves how it was done.Marster give her a house to live in, and a
garden spot on de place, good woman. She show me how to spin andmake ball thread, little as I was.
Marster John had over fifty slaves, and they worked hard, sun upto sun down. It’s a wonder but I never
got a whippin’.
“Did I ever see a ghost? Mr. Wood, I seen sumpin’ once mightystrange, I was gwine to see a gal
Nannie, on de widow Mobley place, and had to pass ‘tween twograveyards, de white and de colored.
She was de daughter of Rev. Richard Cook. When I was just ‘boutde end of de white graveyard, I saw
two spirits dressed in white. I run all de way to de gal’s houseand sob when I got dere. I laid my head in
her lap and told her ‘bout de spirits and how they scared me. Istill weepin’ wid fear, and she console me,
10
rub my forehead and soothed me. When I got quiet, I asked hersome day to be my wife, and dat’s de gal
dat come to be years after, my wife. Us walk to church hand andhand ever afterwards, and one [text
missing]
“Nannie and me, under de providence of de Lord Jehovah, has hadthree chillun to live, and they
have chillun too. I owns my own home and land enough to live on,though it is hard to make both ends
meet some years.
“How I got my name, you ask dat? Well, after freedom us niggershad to come to Winnsboro and
register. Us talk ‘bout it by de fireside what us would lak.When us come, Marster Henry Gaillard had a
big crowd of Gaillard niggers ‘bout him beggin’ for names. Oneof them say, ‘Marster Henry, I don’t
want no little name, I wants big soundin’ name.’ Marster Henrywrite on de paper, then he read: ‘Your
name is Mendozah J. Fernandez, hope dats big enough for you.’ Delittle nigger dwarf seem powerful
pleased and stepped to de register. De rest of us spoke toCaptain Gaillard and he said no better name
than Woodward, so us took dat name. Its been a kind of a‘tection to us at times, and none of our
immediate family has ever dragged it in a jail or chain-gang,Bless God! and I hope us never will.”
11
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
ALEXANDER ROBERTSON
EX-SLAVE 84 YEARS OLD.
Alexander Robertson lives as a member of the household of hisson, Charley, on the General
Bratton plantation, four miles southeast of White Oak, S.C. Itis a box-like house, chimney in the center,
four rooms, a porch in front and morning glory vines, in bloomat this season, climbing around the sides
and supports. Does Alexander sit here in the autumn sunshine andwhile the hours away? Nay, in fact he
is still one of the active, working members of the family, everin the fields with his grandchildren, poke
around his neck, extracting fleecy cotton from the bolls andputting it deftly into the poke. He can carry
his row equally as well as any of the six grandchildren. He hasa good appetite at meal time, digestive
organs good, sleeps well, and is the early riser in themornings. He says the Negro half of his nature
objects to working on Saturday afternoon, and at such times histall figure, with a green patch cloth over
the left eye, which is sightless, may be seen strolling to andfro on the streets of Winnsboro.
“Well, well! If it ain’t de young’un dat use to sell me sugar,coffee, fat back and meal, when he
clerk for Calvin Brice & Company, at Woodward, in ’84 and‘long dere.
“I hopes you is well dis mornin’. I’s told to come to Winnsboroand gits blanks for a pension.
Andy Foster, man I knows, d’rect me up dese steps and bless GodI finds you. You wanna ask me some
questions? Well, here I is, more than glad to answer, if I can.Where I born? Strange as it seems, I born
right here in Winnsboro. My name set down in a book: ‘Alexander– boy – Mother, Hannah, wench of
James Stewart’. Dat de way it was read to me by Dr. Beaty, datmarry a Miss Cherry and live in Rock
Hill. If slavery had never been done ‘way wid, dat would be mymaster today, ‘cause him lak hound dogs
and I lak a hound dog. Dat kind of breed got a good nose andmake good ‘possum dog. Marster Jim tell
me one time, dat de first dog sprung from a wolf, and dat fustdog was a hound dog. Dat out dat fust dog,
(must to a been a bitch, don’t you reckon?) come all dogs. Ifollow his talk wid belief, ‘bout de setters,
pointers, and blood hounds, even to de fices, but it strain datbelief when it git to de little useless hairy
pup de ladies lead ‘round wid a silver collar and a shiny chain.Well, you don’t care to hear anymore
‘bout dat? What is de question?
“My master at de fust, was Marster Jim Stewart and my mistresswas his wife, Mistress Clara.
They have two chillum. I ‘member Marster Jim and Miss Lizzie;they live in a fine house befo’ de war,
round yonder close to Mt. Zion College. My mother was de cookand I was de house boy. They had a
big plantation ‘bout two miles out, sorta southwest of Boro Imean Winnsboro, of course, but de country
people still call it Boro.
“On dat plantation was many two-room houses, brick chimneys inde middle, for de plantation
slaves. In de growin’ season I go wid marster every day, not todrive, too small for dat, just to hold de
hoss, when him git out and then I run errands for him, ‘round dehouse and in de fields.
“My mother had another child, Willie Finch. A colored man nameof Finch is his father but her
and de white folks never tell me who my father was. I have tofind out dat for myself, after freedom,
when I was lookin’ ‘round for a name. From all I hear and ‘pearin de lookin’ glass, I see I was half white
for sure, and from de things I hear, I conclude I was aRobertson which have never been denied. Maybe it
best just to give no front names. Though half a nigger, I havetried to live up to dat name, never took it in
dat court house over yonder, never took it in dat jail or datcalaboose. I’s’ paid my debts dollar for dollar
and owe no man nothin’ but good will.
“What de Yankees do when they come? Let other people tell dat,but seem lak they lay de whole
town in ashes, ‘cept de college and our house close to it, datthey use for de officers while they was in
Boro. When they hear sumpin’ bout de Davis name techin’ de St.John ‘Piscopal Church and they march
12
‘round dere, one cold February Sunday mornin’, set it afire, andburn it up. Mother and me went to de
plantation and stayed dere ‘til they left.
“When freedom come, I was twelve years old. Mother marry aFinch; Bill was de name of him.
Our nex’ move was to Dr. Madden’s place, just north of Boro. Usfarm up dere and I do de hoein’. I live
dere thirteen years. I got to feelin’ my oats and tired ofworkin’ for a plum black nigger, I did. Maybe I
ought to been more humble but I wasn’t.
“I ask myself one night: ‘What you gonna do, stay here foreverfor your vittles and clothes?’
Then come over my mind I old ‘nough for to marry. Who I gwine tomarry? It pop right in dis head,
Sarah was de gal for me. I rode old Beck down dere de nex’Sunday; dat was in December. I come right
to de point wid her and de old folks. They ‘low they have noobjections if I could take care of her. I say I
try to. They say: ‘Dat ain’t ‘nough, ‘range yourself for anotheryear and then come and git her’.
“De Lord directs me. I’s down here payin’ my poll, too. MarsterTom Shanty Brice come in as
us come out. I ask him if he need a hand for nex’ year. He lookme up from top to bottom and say:
‘What’s your name?’ I show him my tax receipt. He hire me thenand dere. I go right straight to Sarah
and us tell de old folks. Rev. Gordon marry us de 29th January,1879. Us has seven chillun. Alex, dat’s
de one name for me, is in Tampa, Florida. Carrie marry a Colemanand is in Charlotte, N.C. Jimmie is
dead. Thomas is in Charleston, S.C. Emma marry a Belton andlives wid her husband in Ridgeway, S.C.
I stay wid my son, Charley, up de country.
“I voted one time in 1876, for Gov. Chamberlain, but when Imoved to Marster Tom Brice’s I
thought so much of him, I just quit voting. I would lak to voteone more time to say: ‘I have vote one
time wid de black part of my nature, dis time I votes wid dewhite side of my nature.’ What you laughin’
‘bout? If it was de call of dark blood de fust time, maybe it’sde call of de white blood dis time. You
have no idea de worry and de pain a mulatto have to carry allhis eighty-four years. Forced to ‘sociate
wid one side, proud to be related to de other side. Neither sidelak de color of your skin. I jine de
Methodist church here in Boro and ‘tend often as I can and as Ihear my preacher Owens preach, dat dere
will be no sex in hebben, I hopes and prays dat dere’ll be nosich thing as a color line in hebben.
“Who de best white man I ever know? Mr. Tom Brice, Mr. W.L.Rosborough, Mr. Watt
Simonton, and Mr. August Nicholson. Master Bill Beaty, dat marrymy young mistress, Elizabeth, was a
fine man.
“What I think of Abe Lincoln? What I think of Mr. Roosevelt?Dere de color come up again.
De black say Mr. Lincoln de best President us ever have; dewhite say us never have had and never will
have a President equal of Mr. Roosevelt.”
13
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
ANDY MARION
EX-SLAVE 92 YEARS OLD.
“Yes sir, I was born befo’ de war ‘tween de white folks onaccount of us niggers. They was
powerful concerned ‘bout it and we was not. My mammy always saidshe found me a babe in de
chinkapin bushes, but you can leave dat out if you want to. Theysay I comed into de world in 1844. I
sho’ was a good plow-hand when de first gun was fired at someplace down near Charleston; I think it
was at Sumter. They say I was born where Marster Eugene Mobleylives, but it b’longed to Marster
William Brice, when I was born in 1844, bless God! My fathernamed Aleck and my mother Mary. Us
colored folks didn’t git names ‘til after de war. I took myname, when I went up to de ‘lection box first
time to vote for Gen. Grant for president. My father was fromold Virginia, my mother from South
Carolina. Our plantation had seventy-two slaves living abouthere and on in log houses wid dirt floors.
They bored auger holes in de sides of de room, stuck end ofpoles in dese holes. De pole reach’ out into
de room and rested on wooden blocks sort of hollowed out on top;then some slats of pine finish up de
contraption bed. Quilts was spread on dis which was all de bedwe had.
“I been married four times since de war and I’m here to tell youdat a nigger had a hell of a time
gittin’ a wife durin’ slavery. If you didn’t see one on de placeto suit you and chances was you didn’t suit
them, why what could you do? Couldn’t spring up, grab a mule andride to de next plantation widout a
written pass. S’pose you gits your marster’s consent to go? Lookhere, de gal’s marster got to consent,
de gal got to consent, de gal’s daddy got to consent, de gal’smammy got to consent. It was a hell of a
way!
“I helped my marster ‘mong de bullets out along de MississippiRiver, but I’s glad we didn’t whip
them ‘cause I’s had four wives and dere is de las’ one settin’right over dere, a fixin’ you some
strawberries and a shakin’ her belly at me laughin’ lak Sarah inde Bible and thinkin’ of namin’ de child
of her old age, ‘Isaac’.
“What kind of work I do in slavery? I was de carriage driver. Ushad a fine carriage and two
high-steppin’ horses, Frank and Charlie. I used to hear lots ofthings from behin’ me, while drivin’ de
folks and saying nothin’. Money, did you say? We had no use formoney. Kind words from de white
folks was money ‘nough for me. We just worked hard, eat more andslep’ well. We got meat, hominy,
and corn meal on Mondays and wheat bread, lard and ‘lasses onSaturdays. No time for fishin’ or huntin’.
Married slaves was encouraged to have their own gardens. Ourclothes was of wool in de winter from our
own sheep, and cotton in de summer from our own fields. Had manyspinnin’ wheels and cards. Miss
Mary, de mistress, saw to dis part.
“Our white folks was Psalm-singin’, old style Presbyterians. Youdaresn’t whistle a hymn on
Sunday which they called Sabbath. Just as soon as I got free, Ijined de Baptist church, hard shell.
Brother Wright is my preacher at Blackstock now. My marster,William Brice, his wife, Miss Mary, his
son, Christie, and his daughters, Miss Lizzie, Miss Kittie andMiss Mary, was de ones I drove de carriage
to Hopewell church on Sunday for. Dat church is flourishin’ now.De pastor of dat church, Rev. John
White, befo’ he died I waited on him sixteen years, and in hiswill, he give me dis house and forty acres
around it for my life. Dat’s what I calls religion. My mistresswas a angel, good, and big hearted. I lay
my head in her lap many a time. Marster had a overseer twice.They was poor white trash, not as good as
de niggers. Miss Mary run them both off and told marster whatshe couldn’t see to whom he was away,
she’d pick out one of de slaves to see after. All de overseerdone was to wake us up, see to feeding stock
and act biggity. Us slaves worked from sun up to sun down.
14
“Sometime befo’ de war, my marster sold out and bought a bigplace in Mississippi. On de way
dere, de slaves (grown) was chained together. Yes sir, de chainwas ‘round de necks. We went by
wagons and steamboats sometimes. We stayed in Mississippi ‘tildurin’ de war we refuged back to South
Carolina. Dat’s when de Yankees got possession of de river. Wesettled near New Hope church. It was
in dis church dat I saw sprinkling wid a kind a brush whenbaptizin’ de chillun. Over at Hopewell, you
had to have a brass trinket (token) to show befo’ you could takeCommunion of de Saints. We was
always compelled to go to church. Boss like for de slaves tosing while workin’. We had a jack-leg slave
preacher who’d hist de tunes. Some was spirituals; my wife andme will sing you one now, ‘Got to Fight
de Devil when You Come Up out de Water’. (This was well renderedby the old man and his wife).
Nothing stopped for slave funerals. De truth is, I can’t ‘memberany dyin’ on our places. None of our
slaves ever run away.
“A pass was lak dis, on it was yo’ name, what house you goin’ toand de hour expected back. If
you was cotched any other house, patroller whip you sho’. Alwaysgive us Chris’mus Day. Dere was a
number of dances dis time of de year. Got passes to differentplantations. Dere would be corn shuckin’
different places. Not much games or playin’ in our set. Wife,let’s sing another spiritual. Come on Janie,
let’s sing ‘You Got to Lay Your Burden ‘pon de Lord’.
“Sickness of slaves was quickly ‘tended to by de doctor. Membergallopin’ for old Doctor
Douglas many a time.
“I went to de war from Mississippi as body guard for my marster.I was close to de fightin’ and
see it. If it was hell then, it must be tarnation now wid alldese air-planes flyin’ roun’ droppin’ booms on
old people lak Janie and me, over dere fixin’ them strawberries.De good Lord, save us from a war over
Blackstock and my garden out dere!
“I was free three years befo’ I knowed it, worked along just desame. One day we was in de field
on Mr. Chris Brice’s place. Man come along on big, black horse,tail platted and tied wid a red ribbon.
Stopped, waved his hands and shouted ‘You is free, all of you.Go anywhere you wants to’. Us quit right
then and acted de fool. We ought to have gone to de white folks‘bout it. What did de Yankees do when
they come? They tied me up by my two thumbs, try to make me tellwhere I hided de money and gold
watch and silver, but I swore I didn’t know. Did I hide it? Yes,so good it was two years befo’ I could
find it again. I put everything in a keg, went into de woods,spaded the dirt by a pine stump, put de keg
in, covered it up wid leaves and left it. Sometime after, welooked for it, but couldn’t find it. Two years
later, I had a mule and cart in de woods. De mule’s foot sunkdown into de old stump hole and dere was
de keg, de money, de silver and de watch. Marster was mightyglad dat I was a faithful servant, and not a
liar and a thief lak he thought I was. My marster was not a KuKlux. They killed some obstreppary
(obstreperous) niggers in them times.
“I first married Sara Halsey in 1875, she had three chillun. Shedied. Ten months after, I took
Harriett Daniels; she had three chillun, then she died. Eightmonths after, I married Millie Gladden, no
chillun. She lived seventeen years, died, and ten years ago Ifooled dat good-lookin’ Jane a settin’ over
dere. She was a widow then, she was de widow Arthur. She was aCaldwell, when she was born. We
have no chillun but she is still lookin’ for a blessin’. (Herethe nonagenarian broke forth in a quiet
chuckle.)
“There wasn’t as much sin in slavery time, not as muchsufferin’, not as much sickness and eye-
sore poverty. Dere was no peniten’try and chain gangs ‘causedere was no need for them. Cuttin’ out de
brutishness on some places, it was a good thing for derace.”
15
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
BEN LEITNER
EX-SLAVE 85 YEARS OLD.
“I see you go by de road de other day, on your way to old manWade Jackson’s house. ‘Member
de old fellow dat am paralyzed, de one dat lives beyondFellowship graveyard? I was setten’ in dat
graveyard when you and Marse Thomas pass in de automobile. I‘quire nex’ day where you was goin’,
then Marse Thomas say you goin’ ‘round doin’ sumpin’ bout oldslaves and ‘spect you’d like to see me.
So here I is.
“Well, I’s knowed you since you was knee-high and Marse Thomassay, maybe you help me to
get a pension. If you can’t, nobody can.
“I was born a slave of old Marse Robin Brice, not far from NewHope A.R.P. Church. My
mistress was name Miss Jennie. My young marsters’ was: MarseJohn, Marse Chris, and Marse Tom.
Marse Tom been a little runt; they call him Tom Shanty. Him gotto be a member of de Legislature, after
de war. All them went to de ‘Federate War. Deir sister, Amanda,marry Marse Bill Kitchen. You
‘member him, don’t you? Course you does.
“’Member dat day baseball fust come out and they get up a team,not a team then; they called it a
‘Nine’, when de game fust come to Woodward section If you ketcha ball on de fust bounce, dat was a
‘out’. No sich thing as a mask for de face, gloves for de hands,and mats to protect your belly. No curves
was allowed, or swift balls throwed by de pitcher. Him have topitch a slow dropball. De aim then was to
see how far a batter could knock de ball, how fast a fellowcould run, and how many tallies a side could
make. Mighty poor game if de game didn’t last half a day and oneside or de other make forty tallies.
“Marse Bill Kitchen was workin’ in de store of hisbrudder-in-law, Marse John A. Brice. Him
was called out to make one of de ‘Nines’. Him went to de bat,and de very fust lick, him knock de ball
way over center field. Everybody holler: ‘Run Kitchen! RunKitchen! Run Kitchen!’ Marse Bill stand
right dere wid de bat; shake his head and long black whiskersand say: ‘Why should I run! I got two more
licks at dat ball!’ They git de ball, tech him and de umpiresay: ‘Out’. Marse Bill throw de ball down and
say: ‘D—n sich a game!’ Folks laugh ‘bout dat ‘til dis day.
“My daddy Bill Leitner. Hem never b’long to Marse Robin. Himb’long to Marse John Partook
Brice. Mammy b’long to Marse Robin. Her name Sarah. Daddy haveto have a pass to come to see
mammy.
“My brudders and sisters was Eliza, Aleck, and Milton.Patrollers whup daddy one time when
they come to de house and find him widout a pass. Marster havemammy whup us chillun, when us need
a whuppen. Her milk de cows, churn, and ‘tend to de milk, butterand dairy. I helped her wid de cows
and calves, and churnin’.
“You ask me is I had plenty to eat? Sure I did, wid all dat milk‘round me all de time. Best thing
I ‘member right now was runnin’ my finger ‘round de jar where decream cling, and suckin’ it off my
fingers.
“Marster took good care of his slaves. They never went hungry orcold.
“My marster and mistress live in a big two-story house. Us livein little log house, wid log
chimneys. I ‘members fightin’ chinches in de summertime andfleas all de time. I wore a asafetida bag
‘round my neck, when a child to keep off croup, measles,diphtheria, and whoopin’ cough. Marster send
for Dr. Walter Brice when any slave get very ill.
“De fust year of freedom I work for Marse Chris Brice. Been widde Brices all my life. Now
livin’ on Marse Tom Brice’s place.
16
“When de Yankees come, they ransack de house for silver andgold. They burn de house and gin-
house; carry off mules, hosses, and cows. They took de chickens,load all de provisions, put them in a
four-hoss wagon, and leave us and de white folks cold andhungry. It was cold winter time then too.
“I marry a ginger cake lady, one-fourth white, daughter of LouisGrier. Tho’ I ain’t much on
looks as you sees me today, dat gal often, befo’ and after deweddin’, put her arms ‘bout me and say: ‘Ben
you is de handsomest man I ever have see in de world.’
“Us had three chillun. My wife led me to de light of de Lord. Ijined de Red Hill Baptist Church,
under de spell of Peter Cook’s preachin’ and my wife up in dechoir a singin’ ‘Give me dat old time
Religion’. Preacher Miller is my pastor now. Peter Cook dead andgone to glory long years ago. I
‘members now dat old preacher’s warm hand, when he took my handdat night I jined. Him say: ‘God
give you a life to live. You have a soul to save. God give youHis Son to save dat soul. Glory be His
name’.”
17
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
BENJAMIN RUSSELL
EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD.
“I was born fourteen miles north of Chester, S.C. the propertyof Mrs. Rebecca Nance. After
eighty-eight years, I have a vivid recollection of her sympathyand the ideal relations she maintained with
her slaves.
“My father was just Baker, my mother just Mary. My father wasbought out of a drove of slaves
from Virginia. I have been told my mother was born on theYoungblood place. (Youngblood name of
my mistress’ people in York County.) My father was a slave of aMr. Russell and lived two or three
miles from the Nance place, where mother lived. He could onlyvisit her on a written pass. As he was
religiously inclined, dutiful and faithful as a slave, my motherencouraged the relation that included a
slave marriage between my father and my mother. My mother intime, had a log house for herself and
children. We had beds made by the plantation’s carpenter. As aboy I remember plowing from sun to
sun, with an hour’s intermission for dinner, and feeding thehorses.
“Money? Yes, sometimes white folks and visitors would give mecoppers, 3-cent pieces, and
once or twice dimes. Used them to buy extra clothing for Sundaysand fire crackers and candy, at
Christmas. We had good food. In the busy seasons on the farm themistress saw to it that the slaves were
properly fed, the food cooked right and served from the bigkitchen. We were given plenty of milk and
sometimes butter. We were permitted to have a fowl-house forchickens, separate from the white folks.
We wore warm clothes and stout brogan shoes in winter; wentbarefooted from April until November and
wore cotton clothes in summer. The master and some of the womenslaves spun the thread, wove the
cloth and made the clothes. My mother lived in a two-story farmhouse. Her children were: William,
Mattie and Thomas. We never had an overseer on the place.Sometimes she’d whip the colored children,
but only when it was needed for correction.
“Yes, sir, I went with my young master, William, to ChesterCourt House, and saw slaves put on
a block and auctioned off to the highest bidder, just like landor mules or cattle. Did we learn to read and
write? We were taught to read, but it was against the law toteach a slave to write. The Legislature
passed an act to that effect. A number of cases in which slavescould write, the slave would forge a pass
and thereby get away to free territory. They had a time gettingthem back. On one occasion I run in on
my young master, William, teaching my Uncle Reuban how to write.They showed their confusion.
“All slaves were compelled to attend church on Sunday. A galleryaround the interior of the
church, contained the blacks. They were permitted to join in thesinging. Favorite preacher? Well, I
guess my favorite preacher was Robert Russell. He was allowedsometimes to use the white folks school,
which wasn’t much in those days, just a little log house to holdforth in winter. In summer he got
permission to have a brush arbor of pine tops, where largenumbers came. Here they sang Negro
spirituals. I remember one was called: ‘Steal away toJesus’.
“Runaway slaves? Yes, we had one woman who was contrary enoughto run away; Addie, she
run off in the woods. My mistress hired her out to the McDonaldfamily. She came back and we had to
pelt and drive her away.
“How did we get news? Many plantations were strict about this,but the greater the precaution
the alerter became the slaves, the wider they opened their earsand the more eager they became for outside
information. The sources were: Girls that waited on the tables,the ladies’ maids and the drivers; they
would pick up everything they heard and pass it on to the otherslaves.
“Saturday afternoons? These were given to women to do the familywashing, ironing, etc., and
the men cut fire wood, or worked in the garden, and specialtruck crops. Christmas? Christmas was a
18
holiday, but the fourth of July meant very little to the slavepeople. Dancers? There was lots of dancing.
It was the pastime of the slave race. The children played shimmyand other games, imitating the white
children, sometimes with the white folks.
“The master and mistress were very particular about the slavegirls. For instance they would be
driving along and pass a girl walking with a boy. When she cameto the house she would be sent for and
questioned something like this: ‘Who was that young man? Howcome you with him? Don’t you ever let
me see you with that ape again. If you cannot pick a mate betterthan that I’ll do the picking for you.’
The explanation: The girl must breed good strong serviceablechildren.
“No, I never saw a ghost, but there was a general belief amongthe race in ghosts, spirits, haunts
and conjuration. Many believe in them yet. I can never forgetthe fright of the time my young master,
William, was going off to the war. The evening before he went, awhippoorwill lighted on the window
sill and uttered the plaintive ‘whip-poor-will.’ All the slaveson the place were frightened and awed and
predicted bad luck to Master Will. He took sick in the war anddied, just wasted away. He was brought
back in rags toward the end of the struggle.
19
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
BILL McNEIL
EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.
RIDGEWAY, S.C.
“In December 1855, de family Bible say, I was born on de McNeilPlace in York County. De last
person who have dat Bible was Captain Conductor True of deSouthern Railroad trains. Had dis one
name in dat Bible, just ‘Bill’ is set down on de page. I hearthem say de Good Book am now in
Tennessee, but I wouldn’t swear to dat. I was born ‘bout twelvemiles from Chester Court House on a
creek called Bullock or something lak dat.
“My pappy name Will; my mammy name Leah. I was put down in deBook as their child. When
Miss Jane, daughter of old Marster McNeil, (I forgets his firstname) marry, then my new marster was
Marster Jim True. Miss Jane just up and marry Marster Jim andcome wid him to Fairfield. Then old
Marster McNeil give me, my mammy, and brother Eli, to MissJane.
“My pappy done passed out, ceased to live, befo’ us come toFairfield. Him b’long to de Rainey
family of York. Had to git a pass to see his wife and chillun.Dat was one of de hard parts of slavery, I
thinks. Does I ‘member Conductor True’s name? Sho, I does. Itwas Thurston True. When git on de
train him always slap me on de head and say: ‘Well Bill, howyour corporosity seem to sagasherate dis
morning?’ And I say: ‘Very galopehous, I thanks you, Captain’.Then us both laugh, and he pass on
down de coach and all de people on dat car ‘steem me veryhighly. I feel a little bigger than all de other
niggers, all dat day long, I sho does.
“Does you know de Warren Castles Place? ‘Bout two miles fromdere is where us lived befo’
freedom. Marster Jim True was killed in de war. Us carry on thenand make corn for de ‘federate army.
Our house had a dirt floor and a stick and mud chimney. Us slepton a pallet on de floor. In de summer
time I run ‘round in my shirt tail.
“De overseer, Tom True, de daddy of Marster Jim was a rough andhard task marster. After
freedom I went to de Rembert Place, Wateree Creek, then to deDesPortes’ Place five miles from
Winnsboro, then to de Jordan Place on de Gum Tree Road, then tode Buchanan Place, then I buy seventy
acres from Mr. Jim Curlee and live there every since 1905. Mywife was there wid me and my daughter
and her four chillum, Willie, Anne, Andy and HenriettaJackson.
“I got a heap of whippin’s in slavery time from old Marster TomTrue. I see lots of de Yankees
and their doings in war time. They just ride high, burn and takeoff everything from us, lak they did
everywhere else.
“I vote de ‘publican ticket, as I try to show my ‘preciation,and dat gits me in bad wid de Klu
Klux. They scare me, but no touch me. De red shirts try to‘suade me to vote their way. Some of de best
white folks was in dat movement, but this time I ‘members oldTom True beating me often for little or
nothing. I sticks out to de end wid de party dat freed men.
“I find out, and you’ll find out, boss, dat only de Lord is purein de beginning and to de end, in
His plans. De works of man and parties lak democrat and‘publican have their day; if they reign long
enough de people will mourn so de Bible say.
“My old overseer, Marster Tom was a school teacher. I feel sorryfor de chillun he teached,
‘cause him whip me just when him git out of sorts. Miss Janecouldn’t stop him, she just cry.
“Yes sir, I have knowed good white men. Mr. Warren Castles was agood man, and Manigault
here in town is fit to go to heaven when he die. I sure dat heis, although he is a nigger.
20
“My house and land worth $690.00, but I been going back’ardsevery year for last eight years.
Can’t get labor, can’t work myself. Wonder if you white folkswill help me get a pension. I’s not going
to beg. Dats my last word.”
21
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
BILL WILLIAMS
EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.
Bill Williams lives on the Durham place, nine miles east ofWinnsboro, SC., on the warm charity
of Mr. Arthur M. Owens, the present owner. He is decrepit andunable to work.
“I was born a slave of old Marster John Durham, on a plantation‘bout five miles east of
Blackstock, S.C. My mistress name Margaret. Deir chillun wasMiss Cynthia, Marse Johnnie, Marse
Willie and Marse Charnel. I forgets de others. Then, when youngMarse Johnnie marry Miss Minnie
Mobley, my mammy, Kizzie, my daddy, Eph, and me was give tothem. Daddy and mammy had four
other chillun. They was Eph, Reuben, Winnie and Jordan. Us livein rows of log houses, a path ‘twixt de
two rows. Us was close to de spring, where us got water andmammy did de white folks washin’ every
week. I kep’ de fires burnin’ ‘round de pots, so de water wouldkeep boilin’. Dat’s ‘bout all de work I
‘members doin’ in slavery time. Daddy was a field hand andploughed a big red mule, name Esau. How
many slaves was dere? More than I could count. In them days Icouldn’t count up to a hundred. How,
then, I gonna kno’ how many dere was? You have to ask somebodyelse. I’ll just risk sayin’ dere was big
and little ones, just a little drove of them dat went to defield in cotton pickin’ time, a hollerin’ and a
singin’ glory hallelujah all day long, and pick two bales aday.
“Marster Johnnie and Miss Minnie mighty good marster andmistress to deir slaves. We had
good rock chimneys to our houses, plank floors, movablebedsteads, wid good wheat straw ticks, and
cotton pillows. Other folks slaves was complainin’ ‘bout dirtfloors in de houses, boards to sleep on, no
ticks, and rags for pillows. Us got flour bread and ‘lasses onSunday, too, I’m here to tell you.
“They sho’ fetch dat catechism ‘round on Sunday and telled youwho made you, what Him make
you out of, and what Him make you for. And they say dat from decrown of your head to de top of your
big toe, de chief end of every finger and every toe, even to deends of your two thumbs, was made to
glorify de Lord! Missus more ‘ticular ‘bout dat catechism thande marster. Her grandpa, old Marster
John Mobley was a great Baptist. After de crops was laid by,every August, him visit his granddaughter.
While dere, he take de slaves and dam up de branch, to make apond for to pool de water. Then he take to
de hill just ‘bove, cut down pine tops, and make a brush arborto hold de preachin’ in. ‘Vite white
preachers, Mr. Cartledge, Mr. Mellichamp or Mr. Van, to comehold a ‘vival for all de slaves in and
‘round and ‘bout de country. I’s seen 27 go down and come up outdat pool, a splashin’ water from deir
faces, one Sunday evenin’. A terrible thing happen one time atde baptism. It was while de war was
gwine on. Marse Johnnie had come back from Virginia, on afurlough for ten days. Old Marse John
come to see him and fetch Rev. Mr. Cartledge wid him. People waspow’ful consarned ‘bout ‘ligion
‘long ‘bout dat time. We and all de little slave boys jined dattime and dere was a little boy name Ike, a
slave of old Doctor John Douglas, dat jined. Him was just ‘boutmy age, seven or eight years old. After
him jined, him wanna back out of goin’ down into de water. Datevenin’, after dinner, us was all dressed
in a kind of white slip-over gown for de occasion. When it comeIke’s time to receive de baptism, him
was led by his mammy, by de hand, to de edge of de water and hishand given to de preacher in charge,
who received him. Then he commenced: ‘On de confession-----‘.‘Bout dat time little Ike broke loose,
run up de bank, and his mammy and all de slaves holler: ‘Ketchhim! Ketch him!’ Old Marse John
holler: ‘Ketch him!’ They ketch little Ike and fetch him back toold Marse John and his mammy. Marse
John explain to him dat it better to have water in de nose, now,than fire in de soul forever after. Little Ike
say nothin’. His mammy take his hand and lead him to de preacherde same way her did befo’. Little Ike
went down into de water. Preacher take him but when little Ikegot down under dat water, de preacher
loss de hold and bless God, in some way little Ike got ‘twixtand ‘tween de preacher’s legs and comin’ out
22
behind him, turnt him sommersets and climb out on de bank arunnin’ Little Ike’s mammy cry out:
‘Ketch him! Ketch him!’ Old marster say: ‘No let him go to dedevil.’ Thank de Lord him none of our
niggers anyhow. Him just one of Dr. Douglas’ Presbyteriansniggers dat’s destined to hell and be
damned, I reckon.”
23
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
CALEB CRAIG
EX-SLAVE 86 YEARS OLD.
Caleb Craig lives in a four-room house, with a hall, eight feetwide, through the center and a
fireplace in each room. He lives with his grandson, who looksafter him.
“Who I is? I goes by de name of C.C. All de colored peoplespeaks of me in dat way. C.C. dis
and C.C. dat. I don’t ‘ject but my real name is Caleb Craig.Named after one of de three spies dat de
Bible tell ‘bout. Him give de favorite report and ‘cause himdid, God feed him and clothe him all de
balance of him life and take him into de land of Canaan, wherehim and Joshua have a long happy life. I
seen a picture in a book, one time, of Joshua and Caleb, one endof a pole on Joshua’s shoulder and one
end on Caleb’s shoulder, wid big bunches of grapes a hangin’from dat pole. Canaan must to been a
powerful fertile land to make grapes lak dat.
“Would you believe dat I can’t write? Some of them adultery(adult) teachers come to my house
but it seem a pack of foolishness; too much trouble. I justrather put my money in de bank, go dere when
I want it, set dat C.C. to de check, and git what I want.
“When I born? Christmas eve, 1851. Where ‘bouts? Blackstock,S.C. Don’t none of us know
de day or de place we was born. Us have to take dat on faith.You know where de old Bell house, ‘bove
Blackstock, is? Dere’s where I come to light. De old stagecoach,‘tween Charlotte and Columbia,
changed hosses and stop dere but de railroad busted all datup.
“My mammy name Martha. Marse John soon give us chillun to hisdaughter, Miss Marion. In
dat way us separated from our mammy. Her was a mighty prettycolored woman and I has visions and
dreams of her, in my sleep, sometime yet. My sisters would callme Cale but her never did. Her say
Caleb every time and all de time. Marse John give her to anotherdaughter of his, Miss Nancy, de widow
Thompson then, but afterwards her marry a hoss drover fromKentucky, Marse Jim Jones. I can tell you
funny things ‘bout him if I has time befo’ I go.
“Us chillun was carried down to de June place where Miss Marianand her husband, Marse Ed. P.
Mobley live. It was a fine house, built by old Dr. June. MarseEd bought de plantation, for de sake of de
fine house, where he want to take Miss Marian as a bride.
“Dere was a whole passle of niggers in de quarter, three hundredor maybe more. I didn’t count
them, ‘cause I couldn’t count up to a hundred but I can now.Ten, ten, double ten, forty-five, and fifteen.
Don’t dat make a hundred? Sho’ it do.
“Clothes? Too many dere, for to clothe them much. I b’long to deshirt-tail brigade ‘til I got to
be a man. Why I use to plow in my shirt-tail! Well, it wasn’t sobad in de summer time and us had big
fires in the winter time, inside and outside de house, wheneverus was workin’. ‘Til I was twelve years
old I done nothin’ but play.
“Money! Hell no! Excuse me, but de question so surprise me, I’scaught off my guard. Food?
Us got farm produce, sich as corn-meal, bacon, ‘lasses, bread,milk, collards, turnips, ‘tators, peanuts, and
punkins.
“De overseer was Mr. Brown. My marster was much talked ‘bout forworkin’ us on Sunday. He
was a lordly old fellow, as I ‘member, but dere was neveranything lak plowin’ on Sunday, though I do
‘member his hands workin’ ‘bout de hay and de fodder.
“Marse Ed, a great fox hunter, kep’ a pack of hounds. Sometimethey run deer. Old Uncle Phil
was in charge of de pack. Him had a special dog for to tree‘possums in de nighttime and squirrels in de
daytime. Believe me, I lak ‘possum de best. You lak ‘possum?Well, I’ll git my grandson to hunt you
one dis comin’ October.
24
“Marse Ed didn’t ‘low patarollers (patrollers) on de June place.He tell them to stay off and they
knowed to stay off.
“Slave drovers often come to de June place, just lak muledrovers and hog drovers. They buy,
sell, and swap niggers, just lak they buy, sell, and swaphosses, mules and hogs.
“Us had preachin’ in de quarters on Sunday. Uncle Dick, a oldman, was de preacher. De
funerals was simple and held at night. De grave was dug datday.
“A man dat had a wife off de place, see little peace orhappiness. He could see de wife once a
week, on a pass, and jealousy kep’ him ‘stracted de balance ofde week, if he love her very much.
“I marry Martha Pickett. Why I marry her? Well, I see so manyknock-kneed box-ankle,
spindly-shank, flat nose chillun, when I was growin’ up, datwhen I come to choose de filly to fold my
colts, I picks one dat them mistakes wasn’t so laky to appearin. Us have five chillun. Lucy marry a Sims
and live in Winnsboro, S.C. Maggie marry a Wallace and live inCharlotte, N.C. Mary marry a Brice and
live in Chester, S.C. Jane not married; she live wid her sister,Mag, in Charlotte. John lives ‘bove White
Oak and farms on a large place I own, not a scratch of penagainst it by de government or a bank.
“I live on 27 acres, just out de town of Winnsboro. I expects nopension. My grandchillun come
and go, back’ards and fo’ared, and tell me ‘bout cities, andhigh falutin’ things goin’ on here and dere. I
looks them over sometimes for to see if I didn’t do sumpin’ fordeir figures in s’lectin’ and marryin’
Martha, dat’s more important to them than de land I’ll leavethem when I die When Martha die, I marry a
widow name Eliza but us never generate any chillun. Her dead.Not ‘nough spark in me to undertake de
third trip though I still is a subject of ‘tentions.
“What ‘bout Marse Ed and Marse Jim Jones? Well, you see, MarseJim was close wid his
money. Marse Ed was a spender. I ‘tend Marse Ed to a chickenmain once. Marse Jim rode up just as
Marse Ed was puttin’ up $300.000 on a pile brass wing rooster‘ginst a black breasted red war hoss
rooster, dat de McCarleys was backin’. Marse Ed lost de bet. Buthim never told Marse Jim, dat befo’ he
rode up, him had won $500.00 from them same men. After de mainwas over, Marse Jim, bein’ brudder-
in-law to Marse Ed, rode home to dinner wid him. After dinnerthey was smokin’ deir cigars befo’ de
parlor fire dat I was ‘viving up. Marse Jim lecture Marse Ed forthrowin’ ‘way money. Marse Ed stretch
out his long legs and say: ‘Mr. Jones does you ‘member dat dayus ‘tended de circus in Chester and as us
got to de top of de hill a blind beggar held out his cup to usand you put in a quarter?’ Mr. Jones say he
does ‘member dat. Marse Ed went on: ‘Well, Mr. Jones, I had adream last night. I dream us comin’
through de Cumberland Mountains wid a drove of mules fromKentucky. You was ridin’ a piebald hoss,
de same one you rode into South Carolina de fust time you comehere. You had on a faded, frazzled grey
shawl, ‘bout lak de one you had on today. Us was in front, deoutriders behind, when us got to de gap in
de mountains. De drove stampede just as us git in de gap. Us wasboth kilt. You got to heaven befo’ I
did. When I did git dere, you was befo’ de High Court. Theyexamine you and turn over de leaves of a
big book and find very little dere to your credit. At last theysay, I think it was de ‘Postle Peter dat ask de
question. Him say: ‘Everything is recorded in dis book. Us canfind nothin’. Do you happen to ‘member
anything you did to your credit down dere on earth?’ Then youstand up wid dat old shawl ‘round your
shoulders and say: ‘Aha! I do ‘member one thing. One day I wasin Chester and put a quarter of a dollar
in a blind man’s tin cup.’ De ‘postle then tell de recordingangel to see if him could find dat deed. Him
turn over de leaves ‘til him found it on de page. Then de twelve‘postles retire and liberate on your case.
They come back and de judge pass sentence which was: ‘Thesentence of de High Court is, that in view of
your great love of money, James Jones, it is de sentence of decourt dat you be given back de quarter you
give de blind beggar in Chester and dat you James Jones, be sentimmediate on your way to hell.’ Then
they both laugh over dat and Marse Jim got real happy when hefind out Marse Ed quit de main wid
$200.00 to de good.
Address:
Caleb Craig
Winnsboro, S.C.
25
That part of the suburb of Winnsboro called “Mexico”. Just eastof the Southern Railway Company and
north of Winnsboro Cotton Mills.
26
Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’Project, 1936-1938, United States Works
Project Administration, Manuscripts Division, Library ofCongress
Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.
CHARITY MOORE
EX-SLAVE 75 YEARS OLD.
One quarter of a mile north of Woodward station and one hundredyards east of US #21, is the
beautiful residence of Mr. T.W. Brice. In the back yard is atwo-room frame house. In this house lives
Charity Moore and another aged Negro woman, said to be anoctogenarian. They occupy the house
together and exist on the goodness and charity of Mr. Brice.Charity was born a slave of Mr. Brice’s
father and has lived all her days in his immediate family.
“Don’t you ‘member my pa, Isaiah Moore? Course you does! He wasde Uncle Remus of all de
white chillun ‘round dese parts. He sho’ was! I seen him asettin’ wid you Marse Johnnie, Marse Boyce,
and Dickie Brice, in de back yard many a time. You all wasaskin’ him questions ‘bout de tale he was a
tellin’ and him shakin’ his sides a laughin’. He telled all themtales ‘bout de fox and de rabbit, de
squirrel, brer terrapin, and sich lak, long befo’ they come outin a book. He sho’ did!
“My ma name Nancy, dat was pa’s wedded wife. Dere was nobigamous nor concubine business
goin’ on wid us. My brothers was Dave, Solomon, Fortune,Charlie, and Brice. My sisters was Haley,
Fannie, Sarah, Frances, Mary, and Margaret. Hold your writin’dere a minute. Dere was thirteen. Oh
yes, I left out Teeta. Dat rounds them up, a baker’s dozen,Marse Thomas use to ‘low.
“White folks, my pa had Bible tales he never told de whitechillun. Did you know dat my pa
know de catechism from cover to cover, and from de back and tode startin’ end? Concord Church gived
him a Bible for answering every question in the catechism. Here‘tis. (Producing catechism published
and dated 1840). My pa maybe never telled you any Bible tales hetold de colored chillun. He ‘low dat
de fust man, Adam, was a black man. Eve was ginger cake color,wid long black hair down to her ankles.
Dat Adam had just one worriment in de garden and dat was hiskinky hair. Eve hate to see him sad,
‘cause her love her husband as all wives ought to do, if theydon’t.
“Well, Adam play wid Eve’s hair; run his fingers through it andsigh. Eve couldn’t do dat wid his
kinky hair. De debbil set up in de plum bushes and took noticeof de trouble goin’ on. Every day Eve’s
hair growed longer and longer. Adam git sadder and sadder. Dedebbil in de plum bushes git gladder and
gladder. Dere come a day dat Adam ‘scused hisself frompromenadin’ in ‘mong de flower beds wid his
arms ‘round Eve, a holding up her hair. De debbil took de shapeof a serpent, glided after Eve, and stole
up and twisted hisself up into dat hair far enough to whisper inone of them pretty ears: ‘Somebody’s got
something for to tell you, dat will make Adam glad and likehisself agin’! Keep your ears open all day
long.’ Then de serpent distangled hisself, drapped to de ground,and skeedaddled to de red apple tree,
close by de fountain. He knowed dat Eve was gwine dere to bathe.He beat her dere ‘cause she was
walkin’ sorta slow, grievin’ ‘bout Adam and thinkin’ ‘bout howto cheer him up. When she got dere, de
old debbil done changed from a snake to a angel of light, a maleangel, I reckon. He took off his silk
beaver hat, flourished his gold headed cane, and ‘low: ‘Goodmornin’! Lovely day! What a beautiful
apple, just in your reach too, ahem!’ Eve say: ‘I’s not beenintroduced.’ ‘Well,’ said de debbil, ‘My
subjects call me Prince, ‘cause I’s de Prince of light. My givenname is Lucifer. I’s at your service, dear
lady.’ Eve ‘flected: ‘A prince, he’ll be a king some day.’ Thende debbil say: ‘Of course, one of your
beauty will one day be a queen. I seen a sadness on your lovelyface as you come ‘long. What might be
your worry?’ Eve told him and he ‘low: ‘Just git Adam to eat onebite out dat apple ‘bove your head and
in a night his hair will grow as long, be as black, and asstraight as your’n.’ She low: ‘Us ain’t ‘lowed to
eat of de fruit of de tree in de midst of de garden. Us dare nottech it, lest us die.’ Then Satan stepped a
distance dis way, then another way and come back and say:‘Gracious lady! Dis tree not in de midst of de
garden. De one in de midst is dat crabapple tree over yonder. Ofcourse de good Lord didn’t want you to
27
eat crabapples.’ De debbil done got her all mixed up. De applelooked so good, she reached up, and
quick as you can say ‘Jack Robinson,’ she bite de apple and runto Adam wid de rest of it and say:
‘Husband eat quick and your hair will be as long, as black, andstraight as mine, in de mornin’.’ While he
was eatin’ it, and takin’ de last swallow of de apple, he was‘minded of de disobedience and choked
twice. Ever since then, a man have a ‘Adam’s Apple’ to ‘mind himof de sin of disobedience. Twasn’t
long befo’ de Lord comes alookin’ for them. Adam got so scaredhis face turned white, right then, and
next mornin’ he was a white man wid long hair but worse off thanwhen he was a nigger. Dere was more
to dat tale but I disremember it now.
“I’s livin’ wid my young marster, Thomas, now. He took good careof my pa, when he got so old
and feeble he couldn’t work no more. God’ll bless Marse Tommiefor all his goodness. When Pa Isaiah
come to die, Marse Tommie come every day. One day in leavin’, hesaid in his gruff, kind way: ‘Is dere
anything I can do for you Uncle Isaiah?’ Pa say: ‘Take care ofCharity.’ ‘I will,’ say Marse Tommie.
Then he ‘low: ‘Ain’t dere something else?’ ‘Yes,’ pa ‘low, ‘Iwant a white stone over de head of my
grave.’ ‘What must I put on de stone,’ asked Marse Tommie? ‘Justmy name and age,’ said pa. ‘Oh, yes,
dere ought to be something else,’ says marse Tommie. Pa shookhis head. ‘I want something else on it
Uncle Isaiah,’ said Marse Tommie. Wid a tear and a smile, paraised his white head and said: ‘You can
put down, below de name and age, just dis: ‘As good as everfluttered.’ And dat stone at Concord
Cemetery ‘tract more ‘tention than any stone and epitaph in datchurchyard. Why, de white folks puts
flowers on it sometimes.
“I wonder sometime in de winter nights, as de north wind blows‘bout de cracks in de house, if pa
is warm and in Abraham’s bosom. But I knows pa; he’s ‘umble.There’s so many white folks in dat
bosom he’ll just be content
![Project #1655, W.W. Dixon, Interviewer; Winnsboro, S.C.fairfieldgenealogysociety.org/Members_Only/PDF/Books/Slave-Narrative… · chillun, they’s my great-gran’ chillun. My mistress - [PDF Document] (2025)](data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABCAQAAAC1HAwCAAAAC0lEQVR42mP8/h8AAvMB+NzmkbcAAAAASUVORK5CYII=)