Chapter IX: Part 9

"Marster had dese big car'iages wid de high front seats whar de driver sot. Us had buggies den too, but attar de War us jus' had two-wheeled carts and dey was pulled," the old Negress modestly explained, "by male cows."

"Niggers all laked thrashin' time. Marstar, he growed lots of wheat and de thrashin' machine tuk turn about gwine f'um one plantation to another. Dey had big dinners on thrashin' days and plenty of toddy for de thrashin' hands atter dey done de wuk. Dey blowed de bugle to let 'em know when dey done finished up at one place and got ready to go on to de nex' one.

"Missy lef' us to look atter de house when she went off to Morgan County to see de other Robinsons, and she mos' allus fetched us a new dress apiece when she come home. One time dey was Dolly Vardens, and dey was so pretty us kep' 'em for our Sunday bes' dresses. Dem Dolly Vardens was made wid overskirts what was cotched up in puffs. Evvyday dresses was jus' plain skirts and waistes sowed together. Gal chilluns wore jus' plain chemises made long, and boys didn't wear nothin' 'cep' long shirts widout no britches 'til dey was 'bout twelve or fo'teen. Dem was summertime clothes. Cold weather us had flannel petticoats and drawers. Our bonnets had staves in de brim to make 'em stand out and had ruffles 'round de front.

"Ma done de cookin' and house wuk at de big house for Mist'ess Jane Robinson. White folkses had lots of comp'ny, and dey had de cook fix de mostes' good things for 'em. Dey kilt heaps of chickens and cooked whole hams and lots of 'tater puddin's and sich lak. When Ma steamed pun'kin 'til it was done and den fried it, hit sho' would make your mouf water. Missy's folkses was crazy 'bout de 'tater puddin's what Ma made, and when she went off to visit 'em she allus had Ma bake one for her to take 'long to 'em.

"White folkses and Niggers all went to de same church and listened to de same white preacher. Church day was second Sunday of evvy mont'. White folkses went in de mornin' and Niggers atter dinner. Dem Niggers had better behave and listen to de preacher, 'cause if dey didn't Marster would give 'em a rakin' over sho'. Us went to Mount Zion Church in Monroe County, and de Baptists and Meferdists both used de same church house.

"When anybody died, dey laid 'em out on de coolin' board 'til dey got de coffin made up. A white man lived nigh us what made all de coffins. He charged 50 cents to make one for a chile and a dollar for grown folkses. Dey had de same kind of coffins for evvybody, white and black, buried 'em all in de same graveyard, and built a fence 'round it. White mens preached all de fun'rals. When dey buried a Nigger dey mos'ly had prayer, a little talkin' and some songs. Parts of de songs went lak dis:

"Death has been here and
Tore away a sister from our side,
Jus' in de mornin' of 'er day
As young as us, she had to die.

"Not long ago she filled 'er place
And sot wid us to larn,
But she done run 'er mortal race
And nevermore can she return.

"Us can't tell who nex' may fall
Underneath de chasen' rod,
One maybe fus', but let us all
Prepare to meet our God.

"And needful help is thine to give
For Grace our souls to Thee apply,
To larn us how to serve and live,
And make us fit at las' to die."

"Part of another one was:

"Oh, come angel band
Come and 'round me stand,
And bear me away
On your snowy wings,
To my immortal home."

"Seems lak I can mos' hear de preacher read de Scripture for his tex', 'Buy de truf and sell it not.'

"Sometimes our white folkses tuk us all to old Smyrna Church, and den Ma allus cooked a fine dinner to take 'long, 'cause dey had church all day and dinner on de grounds. I ain't never gwine forgit a sermon I heared at Smyrna, onct. De tex' was, 'Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give you a crown of life.'

"One day Marster called all his Niggers together and said us was all free, and dat us could go whar us pleased anytime us got ready, but he said too, dat us could stay on wid him if us wanted to. Charlie Martin was de onlies' Nigger what didn't stay. Charlie said he wanted to go somewhars else and Marster give him a good hoss and saddle and some money when he lef', but I don't know how much dat money was.

"'Twarn't long 'fore dere was plenty of Ku Kluxers 'round 'bout. Dey had on doughfaces and long white robes what come down over de hosses dey was a-ridin'. Ma allus tole us dat if one of dem Kluxers tetched a Nigger, dat Nigger was gwine to die, and us was so skeered us stayed out of deir way so day didn't ketch none of us, but dey sho' did wuk on de hides of some of dem other Niggers what dey did git a holt of.

"I wukked for Miss Sally Yervin a while and den us moved here to Athens. My gran'pa come atter us, and Mr. Mote Robinson moved us in one of dem big, high up waggons." An ice truck passed the cabin door and Alice said: "Now jus' look, Honey, us didn't have nothin' lak dat den. Our milk and butter and sich lak was kep' in de spring house. Folkses what had wells used to put milk in buckets and let 'em down in de well wid ropes, and dat milk would keep good and cool down dar.

"I got married atter us come to Athens. Us didn't have no big weddin', jus' went to de preacher man's house to git married. De onlies' child us had is done been daid for years, and my old man died 'way over 16 years ago."

The old Negress [HW: woman] was reluctant to end the interview. "Goodbye Missy, I hopes you come back sometime, 'cause old Alice has had a mighty good time a-talkin' to you. Atter us gits too old to do any wuk dere ain't many folkses takes up no time a-listenin' to old Niggers."

[HW: Ex-Slave Interview: Mrs. Amanda Jackson]

Mrs. Amanda Jackson was born a slave. She is unable to give her age but she can tell of some of the conditions, etc. on the plantation where she lived. Following are the things that she remembers most vividly:

"I wuz born in Glasscock county 'bout twelve miles fum Davisboro, Ga. My marster's name wuz Lowry Calhoun--he did'nt have no chillun--jes' him an' his wife an' her mother. He wus a rich man an' he had a big plantation an' 'bout fifty slaves or more--I 'members de big quarters in de back o' his house, where me an' de res' o' de slaves lived, an how we uster git up an' do 'roun."

"Besides me I had two sisters an' one brother--I wuz de younges' child."

"All of de slaves on de plantation worked in de fiel'--even de cook--dat is 'till time fer her to cook de meals. On dis plantation dey raised practically everything--corn, cotton, wheat, an' rye, an' a heap o' live stock. Dey wuz runnin' 'bout twenty-five or thirty plows all de time. Dere wuz one overseer."

"Every mornin' de slaves had to git up an' by de time it wuz light enuff to see dey had to be in de fiel' workin'". When asked how they were awakened Mrs. Jackson replied: "Dey knowed how to git you up alright--de overseer had a horn dat he blowed an' dem dat did'nt wake up when de horn wuz blowed wuz called by some of de others in de quarters". Continuing, she said: "Dey wuz in de fiel' fore de sun rose an' dere 'till after it went down--fum sun to sun". "De fiel' han's had one hour fer dinner--dem dat had families done dere own cookin' an' dere wuz a special cook fer de single ones. De women whut had families would git up soon in de mornin's 'fore time to go to de fiel' an' put de meat on to boil an' den dey would come in at dinner to come in at dinner time an' put de vegetables in de pot to cook an' when dey come home in de evenin' dey would cook some corn bread in de ashes at de fireplace".

"All dat I could do den wuz sweep de yards, water de cows an' de chickens an' den go to de pasture to git de cows an' de calves--we had two pastures--one fer de calves an' one fer de cows, I had to git de cows so de womens could milk 'em."

"All of de hard work on de plantation wuz done in de summertime. In rainy weather an' other bad weather all dat dey had to do wuz to shell corn an' to help make cloth. As a rule ol' marster wuz pretty good to his slaves but sometimes some of 'em got whupped kinda bad fer not workin' an' stuff like dat--I seen 'im cut womens on dey shoulders wid a long whip 'till it looked like he wuz gonna cut de skin off'n 'im."

"You had to do yo' own work on Saturdays an' Sundays--I members seeing my po' mother wash her clothes on Sundays many times. We did'nt have no holidays except Sundays an' den we did'nt have nowhere to go except to church in de woods under a bush-arbor".

"De white folks clothes an' all o' de slaves clothes wuz all made on de plantation. De marster's wife could sew an' she an' her mother an' some of de slaves done all o' de spinning an' weaving on de place. I've worked many a day in de house where dey made de cloth at. To color de clothes dey made dyes out o' all kinds o' barks. If dey wanted yellowstripes dey used dye made out o' hickory bark. Dere wuz always plenty o' clothes fer everybody 'cause dey give two complete outfits two times a year--one in de summer an' one in de winter. Fer blankets we used homespun spreads."

"Even de shoes wuz made on de plantation--dere wuz a man on de place dat made all o' de shoes. Dey wuz made out o' cowhide an' wuz very stiff. You had to grease 'em to wear 'em an' after you done dat you could do pretty well. De clothes dat dey wore on Sunday wuz'nt no different fum de ones dat dey wore in de week--dey didn't have nowhere to go on Sundays unless dey had services somewhere in de woods."

"Dere wuz a always plenty to eat 'cause dey raised everything dat you c'n think of. Dere wuz all kinds o' vegetables an' big fiel's of hogs an' 'bout fifteen or twenty head'a cattle dat had to be milked everyday. Dem dat had families got a issue o' food everyday an' de others whut wuz single wuz fed at de cookhouse. De only time we ever got biscuits wuz on Sundays--de res' o' de time we et cornbread. Marster had two smokehouses--one fer de lard an' one fer de meat. Besides des he 'lowed de slaves to raise dere own vegetables in dey wanted to but dey could'nt raise no chickens on stuff like dat".

"De place where de slaves lived wuz in de back o' de white folks house. Dey called it de "quarters". Dere wuz lotsa log cabins kinda 'ranged 'roun in a sorta circle an' all of 'em had big dirt chimneys on de outside. De holes in de walls wuz stopped up wid dried mud to keep de weather out. Fer furniture dey jes' nailed up anything--dere wuz a bench or two an' a few boards nailed together fer a bed. De mattress wuz a big tickin' stuffed wid straw or dried grass. Some of de houses had big iron pots so dat dey could cook if dey wanted to. De fireplaces wuz big ones an' dey had racks in de inside of 'em so dat de pots could hang dere when dey wuz cookin'. De only light dat dey had wuz de firelight--don't care how hot it wuz--if you wanted to see you had to make a fire in de fireplace. De floors in all de cabins wuz made wid wood.

"Hardly anybody ever got sick on de plantation. When dey wuz sick de white lady would come out once in a while to see how you wuz gittin' 'long. If anybody wuz very sick de doctor would come on his horse an' bring his medicine wid 'im when he come. When you wuz sick like dis somebody from de fiel' would stay in an' do de nursin'. All de medicine I 'members is big blue mass pills an' salts--dey would give you des fer anything. When you wuz too sick to go to de fiel' an' not sick enuff to be in bed you had to report to de white lady at de house--she could tell pretty much if you wuz sick an' she would work on you--if you did'nt git better den she would send fer de doctor."

"On des plantation dey did'nt have no regular church fer de slaves an' so when de weather wuz good de slaves went to de woods an' had church in a bush-arbor. Dey made a bush-arbor by takin' some posts an' puttin' dem in de groun' an' de coverin' de top wid bushes. Later on dey had a shelter covered wid boards. De prechin' wuz done by a ol' man dey called Caesar--he wuz too old to do anything else an' so prechin' wuz de biggis' thing he done."

"My marster never did sell any o' his slaves--'course if dey wanted to go to somebodyyelse he'd let 'um go p'vided de one dey wanted to go to paid fer 'em. He let one or two go like dat once. Other folks uster put 'em on de block an' sell 'em like dey would a chicken or sumpin' like dat."

"Dere wuz'nt much whuppin on our plantation--not by de marster. Dey usually got whupped fer not workin'. Others got whupped by de Paddie-Rollers when dey wuz cot off'n de plantation widout a pass. Dey would come to de plantation an' whup you if dey knowed you had been off wid out a pass. Der man whose plantation we wuz on did pretty well by us--he did'nt like fer de Paddie-Rollers to come on his place to do no whuppin'."

In reply to a query regarding the possibility of a slave buying his freedom Mrs. Jackson replied: "De only ones I knowed to go free wuz some whose marsters willed 'em enuff money to buy deyself out an' dey wuz mighty few".

Continuing Mrs. Jackson said: "When de Yankee soldiers come through we had to fit busy an' hide all de meat an' de other food dat wuz in de smokehouse so dat de soldiers would'nt take it."

"My mother an' father stayed on de plantation a long time after freedom wuz declared".

"MEMORIES OF HER CHILDHOOD", BY AN EX-SLAVE, CAMILLA JACKSON

Submitted by--
Minnie B. Ross
(Colored)

Mrs. Camilla Jackson doesn't know how old she is, but is so very old that she almost never leaves her chair. She wears a white rag around her head and is always spotlessly clean. She speaks distinctly; but her memory is a little slow, due to her old age. The events related were given only after she had thought them over carefully, for, as she stated, she did not wish to tell anything but the truth. She lives in a back room of a large house and is cared for by other people in the house.

She was born in Decatur, Georgia, the daughter of Charlotte and Joe Hoyle, and the tenth child of 18 children. Her family included her mother and father, a grandmother and 17 sisters and brothers. As far as she can remember, her family always belonged to Mr. Peter Hoyle, who was a doctor.

Dr. Hoyle's family included his wife, three boys, and three girls. He owned a very large plantation, and a large number of a slaves, probably 75 or more. All of them were required to work in the fields and tend the crops, which consisted mostly of sugar cane and cotton. Syrup was made from the sugar cane. Mrs. Jackson remembers quite well that everyone was required to work in the fields, but not until Dr. Hoyle, who was a kind master, was sure that they were old enough. She was about 12 years old when she was given a job in the house, operating the fly-brush. The fly-brush was constructed so that a piece of cloth, fastened on a wooden frame with hinges, could be pulled back and forth with a cord. This constant fanning kept the room clear of flies. As she related this, she smiled to herself as if her job was particularly amusing.

Dr. Hoyle did not find it necessary to hire out any of his slaves as he had enough work to keep them all busy. She frequently said that her master was a kind man and never punished unnecessarily. It was very seldom that he used the whip. His slaves respected him for his kindness and tried to please him. As a result of his good treatment Dr. Hoyle never found it necessary to sell any one of his slaves. Once she hesitated and seemed to go into a deep study over something. A few minutes later she related the incident of the selling of a woman slave. This woman gave birth to a baby out of wedlock and, since Dr. Hoyle was a firm believer in marriage, he immediately sold her, to prevent further trouble. Mrs. Hoyle was not as kind as her husband, and at times was cruel to the slaves.

Mrs. Jackson clearly related the method of courtship and marriage on her master's plantation. Dr. Hoyle never selected the mates for his slaves but left it to each person to chose whomever he wished. However, the selection would have to be made from among the slaves on some of his friends plantations. They were not allowed to chose anyone on their own plantation. The person chosen was allowed to call on Sundays after getting a "pass" from his master. She told how courtship was carried on in those days. A young man courted the girl in the presence of the parents. Every now and then he would be seen looking at the clock. When he left, the mother would go to the door with him. When the master was properly notified of the intended marriage, he would prepare a feast and call in his own preacher to perform the ceremony. After the ceremony everybody was allowed to take part in the feast. When Mrs. Jackson's oldest sister married the master roasted a pig and stuck a red apple in its mouth. She smiled over this incident.

A slave's home life was very simple. After work hours they were allowed to visit other plantations; however, they could not visit any plantation unless their master was friendly with the owner of this particular plantation. One of the most enjoyable affairs in those days was the quilting party. Every night they would assemble at some particular house and help that person to finish her quilts. The next night, a visit would be made to some one else's home and so on, until everyone had a sufficient amount of bed-clothing made for the winter. Besides, this was an excellent chance to get together for a pleasant time and discuss the latest gossip. Most friendly calls were made on Sunday, after securing a "pass". This "pass" was very necessary to go from one plantation to another.

Slaves did not have to prepare their food during the week. Their food was brought to them in pails from the "big house". (The master's house was called the "big house".) On Sundays they were given groceries to prepare their own meals. Mrs. Jackson remembers the bread that was made from "shorts". "Shorts" was the name given to a second grade of flour, similar to whole wheat. The first grade was always used in the master's house. As a whole, Dr. Hoyle gave his slaves enough food; however, on several occasions she remembers that a friend of her mother's, who lived on the adjoining plantation, handed pans of food over the fence to them.

Slaves were never given spending money but her grandmother was very thrifty and managed to earn a little money. This was done by collecting all the rags she could find and then carrying them to town in an oxcart to sell them. Old women used oxcarts because oxen would not run away.

She smiled when asked if she had ever worn a hoop skirt. "Yes, child", she replied, "I have worn hoop skirts. They were the fad in those days." She related how her sister made hoop skirts by cutting slits in the hem of the skirt, and running a hoop through it. "I can remember the cloth that was made on the spinning wheel", she said. She told how she had turned the reel many a day and spun the thread. She could not clearly relate the construction of a spinning wheel.

Everyone, particularly the older people, was required to attend church. For Christmas everyone was given a special Sunday suit to wear to church. The slaves did not have a separate church of their own but were allowed to attend the white church and occupy the balcony. Mrs. Jackson began to laugh outright over the memory of a funny yet serious incident that occurred in church one Sunday. She had a little white girl friend with whom she played every day. One Sunday she looked over the balcony and saw her in the audience below. They both began a little game of looking and snatching back their heads. Finally she leaned over too far and fell over the balcony into the white audience below. She hurt herself pretty badly and cried so much that the service was broken up for that day. Dr. Hoyle carried her home and administered the proper treatment. After this incident she didn't look over balconies anymore.

Before she could learn anything definite the Civil War had begun and she began to see soldiers going here and there dressed in their uniforms. One event stands out clearly in her memory and that was the time the master took all of his slaves and as many of his possession as he could and went to Camp Ground, Georgia, to dodge the Yankee soldiers. After the attack on Decatur, they returned to find all of the slave quarters torn down. The master's house, which had 13 rooms, was still standing. Most of the slaves had to stay in the "big house" until their homes could be rebuilt. Many were still living in the master's house when the papers were read telling them they were free. Dr. Hoyle asked his slaves to remain and he would pay them for their services. Her family remained with Dr. Hoyle's family one year after freedom. Afterwards they moved to Atlanta, where she has lived practically all of her life. She married immediately after freedom and proudly spoke of being the first person to wed in the old "Big Bethel Church". She is now alone without sister, brother, or child; but even at her old age she is unusually optimistic and continues to enjoy life. She believes in serving God and living a clean honest life. She has just one desire, and that is to enter the Kingdom of Heaven someday.

[TR: date stamp MAY 8 1937]

Life Story as Told by Aunt Easter Jackson
Ex-Slave

It was during the height of slavery days that Frances Wilkerson and one child came to make their home in Troup County, having been bought by Mr. Tom Dix from a Mr. Snow, of Virginia. Frances, being an unusually intelligent slave, able to weave, spin, and do all kinds of sewing, cost Mr. Dix $1500.00. She received excellent care, never once being allowed to do any field work, and was kept at the "Big House" to do the sewing for the household.

Frances' husband, Silas Wilkerson, was bought by the Wilkerson Family, who were neighbors.

It was here on the Dix plantation, located about one mile from what is now the Court Square, that another child, Easter, was born, a few years before the Civil War. It is with a smile of tenderness that she described her life on the old plantation.

"Yes, chile, I can see Mistus now a-ridin' up on her grey horse, "Pat", wid er basket on her arm plum full of biscuit! Yes, chile, white biscuits! and ain't no short cake ever been made what could hold a light to dem biscuits. Mistus would say, 'Where's dem chillun, Mammy?'

"Lawdy, you never seed so many little niggers pop up in all yo' life--just 'peared lak de come right out o' de groun'. Sometimes dere 'ud be so many chillun, she'd have to break de biscuits to make 'em go 'roun' and sometimes when she's have an extry big basket, she'd say, 'Bring on de milk, and less feed dese chullun.' A big bucket o' milk would be brung and po'd in little troughs and de'd lay down on dey little stommacks, and eat jest lak pigs! But de wuz jest as slick and fat as yer please--lots fatter an us is now! And clean too. Old Mustus would say, 'Mammy, you scrub dese chillun and use dat "Jim-Crow."' Lawd, chile! I done fergot you doan know what a "Jim-Crow" wus--dat's a little fine com' what'll jest natchully take the skin plum off yo' haid 'long wid de dirt.

"Dem was good old days, plenty ter eat and a cabin o' sticks and dirt to call yo' own. Had good times too, 'specially on de 4th of July and Christmas, when old Marster Tom allus let de niggers have pigs to kill for de feas'; why chile, you should er seen de pot we cooked dem pigs in, it wus so big an' heavy, it took two to put the i'on led on. And sech music! Music played on harps, saws, and blowin' quills. Ever'body had a good time; even de "white folks" turned out for de dance which went 'way into de night.

"Den dere wus de prayer meetin's, once a week, first on one of the plantations den a nother; when all de niggers would meet and worshup, singin' praises unto the Lord; I can hear 'em now, dere voices soundin' fur away. Yes sir! Folks had religun in dem days, the "Old Time Religun." Our white folks belonged to the First Baptis' Church in LaGrange, and all de slaves went to de same church. Our services wus in de basement.

"But t'wasn' long 'fore de war broke out, and den things wuz turrible; de niggers would huddle 'roun' de "Big House" scared ter death o' de orful tales that wus told er bout de war! It wusn't but er bout a year til young Marster Tom, John, and Bee wus called to de war. Albert and Scott Dix, two young slaves, went with Marster Tom and John and stayed by them 's close as de could, cookin' and gettin' good for de camp. But t'wus a sad day when de word come dat Marster Tom wus dyin'. Old Mistus left right straight, all us slaves goin' down to de train wid her, an' when she got on, she wave her han' an' said, 'I want all o' you, white and black, to take keer o' my baby.'

"When she got dere 'twuz a two-story house where they had Marster Tom--the blood had run down de stairs.

"Ole Mistus had stood so much she couldn't stan' no mo',--the next mornin' she wus dead in de bed! One o' de slaves, Albert, and her son, John, carried her on dere shoulders for five miles, but the war bein' so bad dey couldn't carry her no further, so dey buried her by de road and after de war wus over, de took her to de fam'ly graveyard.

"Den de word spread lak wild fire: "The Niggers wuz free". That night all the slaves went up to the "Big House", wurried an' askin' 'Young Marster Tom, where is we goin'? What is we goin' to do?' Young Marster Tom said, "Go on back to your cabins and go to bed, dey are your homes and you can stay on here as long as you want to.""

* * * * *

According to Aunt Easter's statement, life for the slaves on the Dix plantation changed very little after the war. She later was married to John Henry Jackson, whose mother also came from Virginia. Aunt Easter had fourteen children, six of them are now living in Troup County and have good jobs. She has made her home with her children and has the respect of all the "white folks", and she often boasts that "her white folks" will care for her till she dies. She now lives on West Haralson Street, LaGrange, Troup County, Georgia.

[TR: date stamp MAY 8 1937]

SLAVERY DAYS AS RELATED BY:

=SNOVEY JACKSON=

Ruth A. Chitty--Research Worker

Aunt Snovey Jackson, crippled and bent with rheumatism, lives in a cabin set in the heart of a respectable white neighborhood. Surrounded by white neighbors, she goes her serene, independent way. The years have bequeathed her a kindly manner and a sincere interest in the fairness and justice of things. Wisdom and judgment are tempered with a sense of humor.

"My name is Snovey Jackson--S-n-o-v-e-y, dat's the way I spells it. D' ain't nary 'nother Snovey Jackson in de South. I was bawned in Clarksville, Va., and owned by one Captain Williams of Virginia. I don' know jes' 'zackly how old I is, but I must be 'bout 80.

"I was jes' a small chap 'bout three or fo' years old when my folks 'cided to come to Georgia to raise cotton. You see we didn't raise no cotton in Virginia--nutten' 'cept wool and flax. De people in Virginia heerd 'bout how cotton was growed down here and how dey was plenty o' labor and dey come by the hund'eds to Georgia. Back in dem days dey warn't no trains, and travel was slow, so dey come in gangs down here. Jes' like dey had de boom down in Florida few years back, dat's de way people rushed off to Georgia to git rich quick on cotton.

"When they got here it warn't nutten' like dey thought it was go'n be. Dey thought dey could make cotton 'dout no trouble, and dey'd rake in de money. My folks lef' me in Virginia 'cause I was too li'l' to be any help, and dey thought dey could get plenty o' cheap labor here. (I'se talkin' 'bout fo' de war broke out.) Of course Virginia was a slave breedin' state, and niggers was sold off jes' like stock. Families was all broke up and never seed one 'nother no mo'.

"I don't even know who my mother and father was. I never knowed what 'come of 'em. Me and my two little brothers was lef' in Virginia when Captain Williams come to Georgia. De specalators got hol' o' us, and dey refugeed us to Georgia endurin' o' de war. Niggers down here used to be all time axin' me where my folks was, and who dey was--I jes' tell 'em de buzzards laid me and de sun hatch me.

"After we was brought to Georgia Mr. James Jackson bought me. I never knowed what 'come of my brothers. The specalators had tried to keep us together, but we got all separated. I ain't got no kin in the world today dat I knows 'bout.

"De Jacksons owned a plantation in Baldwin County, but dey sold it and moved to LaGrange, Georgia. We lived dere 'til after de war was on, den dey move back to Baldwin County. Old Miss lost her son-in-law, and later her husband died, den her daughter died. She had a little grandchild, a boy, her daughter's child, to raise. She used to say she had two pets, one pet black child and one pet white child. She was good to me. I never got no punishin's.

"Old Miss had a lot of kin folks here--high class folks. Dey was stomp down Virginians, too. Dey use to call me dey kin. Miss Kizzie Weiderman was a niece o' old Miss Jackson's, and she used to come down the street and say, 'Look here, ain't dat some o' my kin?--Come shake hands wid me.' Miss Kizzie was a sight. She alluz say when she die she want all her nigger kin to come and look on her dead body.

"Finally old Miss got dissatisfied and she 'cided de best thing for her to do was to sell her home and farm here and go to Chicago to live wid her son. Dat lef' me to seek 'nother home, 'cause I didn't want to go off up dere. So we parted.

"I come to town den (it was in 1877) and found work wid de Agent o' the Central o' Georgia Railroad here in Milledgeville. My Mistis den was Mrs. Ann Bivins. She was good to me, and when they went away, she say, 'Snovey, ef'n I had the money, nuttin' but death could separate me and you.' Den the Nesbits was made de Agent, and I work fifty years at dat Central depot. I used to get up eve'y mawnin' and cook breakfas' for all de section hands, den I'd go to de house and cook for de family. Child, I jes' worked myself to death. All my folks gone away now. De Nesbits live in Florida. I sends 'em a bag o' nuts eve'y Christmas, and dey sends me a box o' oranges. Sometime dey comes here to see me.

"I mus' tell you how de Yankees done when dey come th'ough here. I was wid old Miss Jackson at dat time. We live over de river. I was a small chap not big enough to do nothing much 'cept nuss old Miss. We heard de Yankees was comin', and did dey ruin eve'thing! Why Milledgeville was jes' tore up; twon't nuttin mo'n a cow pasture when de Yankees got th'ough wid it. Dey tuck all de stock and cattle what folks had, and burned and 'stroyed eve'ything. After de war was breakin' up, we heerd de soldiers was comin' through here and was go'n pass Town Creek on de way to Sparta, and on from Sparta to Warrenton, and from Warrenton to Augusta. I lost record after dat. Some said it was go'n be 15,000 soldiers passing th'ough. We all wanted to see them. I axed old Miss to lemme go to Sand Town to see 'em. She lemme go. Hit was a crowd of us went in a big wagon. We did see 'bout 5,000 soldiers. I was 'bout 8 or 9 years old. I 'members jes' as well how dey looked--some of 'em had canteens. Dey was tryin' to git back home. Dey seemed all bewildered like. I had alluz been skeered o' soldiers, but after I seen dem I warn't skeered no mo'.

"I had alluz wanted to own a little piece of land, and have me a one room hut like other niggers had. After I started to cookin' for de white folks at de Central depot, I 'cided I'd buy me a home. So I got my eyes on a piece of property I wanted and I started to 'vestigatin' it. It seemed like a heap o' money and me making sech a li'l' bit. I found out Mrs. Ann duBignon owned de square I wanted, so I went to see her son, de lawyer. He say, 'Snovey, you can't buy dat lot. You ain't got a chance in de world to pay for it.'

"I warn't satisfied wid dat, so I walked out to where old Miss Ann lived at Scottsboro, and I talked to her. She say she was anxious to git a buyer, but she didn't want to worry wid small payments on it, and if I could finance it, she'd sell. Well, I studied and studied, and I figgered and figgered, and my little wages for a whole year, even if I didn't spend a penny for nuttin', was mighty little. So I went down to see Mr. Samuel Walker. He owned jes' 'bout all de land in Baldwin County what he had got by loans to people dat give de land as security and never could pay off. So we talked things over, and he let me have de money to pay Miss for de square. Mind you dis here was all jes' a field and woods den. Look at it now!" She proudly pointed out the modern homes and streets.

"At de end of dat fus' year, here come Mr. Walker. 'Well, Snovey, how you gittin' 'long?' he say.

"'I'se gittin' 'long fine Mr. Walker.'

"'Well, what you go'n' do 'bout dis land?'

"I was ready for him. He thought he was go'n' come down and take de land, 'cause he knowed I didn't have de money to pay off. But I was waitin' fer him.

"'I'se ready, Mr. Walker, to settle up.' Was he surprised! He sho' was disappointed. Lot o' folks has wanted my property. Finally Judge Allen persuaded me to sell him enough to build his home. Den Mr. Bone come 'long, and he wanted to build here. So you see I done sold off several lots, and I still owns part o' my square. Dis here old nigger been de foundation of dem homes you see dere.

"I could be a grand counselor now. If I could live my days over I'd show 'em all sumpin'. Like a rollin' stone, up and down, so de world go'n' move on. I been a heap o' help to folks in my day. I done made a way out o' no way.

"I ain't never married, never had no chillun, and de niggers says I alluz been a house-bird. I suffers a heap wid rheumatism now. Dat's de reason you see me all bent over disaway. I can't hardly raise up from my waist. I looks mighty feeble but I done out-lived a lot o' 'em. Some years ago when dey was buildin' dat fine home up dere on de lot they bought from me, de contractor boarded right across dere from me wid Mrs. Sims, and he used to say, 'Aunt Snovey, how 'bout sellin' me dis corner lot to build me a marble house on? You might not be here much longer, and I sho' love to have dis corner lot.'

"I used to laugh and tell him I might eat de goose dat ate de grass dat growed on his grave. Sho' 'nough, he died here some years ago."

"Aunt Snovey, what are you going to do with all your property--you have no family and no relatives?"

"Well, dis property was here when I come here."

"Haven't you made a will?"

"Me? No mam. Some fellow'll git it. I can't say who'll git it. I better not say."

"Aunt Snovey, I would like so much to have these old chairs you have here--how about selling them to me?"

"Child, I can't tell you de folks is wanted dem chairs. I has to have sumpin' to use. Folks done traded me out o' fust one thing then another. You see dat table? Mrs. Bone up here swapped me one she had for one I had she wanted. I ain't worrying about what's go'n' become o' things when I'se gone. It was all here when I come here, and it'll be here when I die.

"I'se a old-fashioned Missionary Baptis'. I used to go to de white folks' church. Dat's where I got my dip. We fared a heap better back in dem times dan we does now."

"Aunt Snovey do you have any pet superstitions?"

"Go on way from here, child, I ain't got nuttin' to do wid superstitions. My old Miss never 'lowed me to believe in no signs and sech like. I could dig up a lot of sorrow in my life, but dat wouldn't do no good.

"I never did believe in bumpin' 'bout, so dat's why I settled down here and made up my mind to have me a home. You see dis ain't no fine home, but it's mine and it's paid for. Some day when I can afford it, I'se go'n' try to finish de inside o' dis house. I got one room ceiled, and maybe some day I can finish it. I don't believe in taking on no bigger load dan I can git up de hill wid. I'se seed folks go th'ough de machinery o' extravagance, and it'll eat you up sho'. I'se skeerd o' debts as I is o' a rattlesnake, but debts in de right sense makes you industrious. And I'se learned dis much--that a line fence and a dog creates more fuss dan anything in de world."

[HW: DIST. 4 Ex. Slave.] 310 Louise McKinney 100142

[HW: "Uncle Jake"]

"A Vessel Ob De Lawd".

Uncle Jake was a character up in the hills of north Georgia. I can look back and see him now as he trudged through the snow in the early morning from his little log cabin down in the field. His new home-made shoes were being worn for the first time and with every swing of the milk pail, he limped.

"Whose on de Lawd's side? I's on de Lawd's side!" His thin, cracked voice rang out clearly, and every other word received special emphasis as he tried to step lightly with his left foot.

My nose was flattened against the cold, frosty window pane as I watched the old darky go about his morning chores. Just the afternoon before I had slipped away to his and Aunt Callie's cabin to talk for a little while and found him melting tallow in an old bucket over a sputtering log fire. As he rubbed the smelly drippings over the heavy shoes he kept glancing toward the sky at the soft gray clouds, then he would say, "Look at dat smoke up at de big house. It am meeting and mingling and habin' communion wid dem clouds oberhead. We's goin' hab wedder in de mornin', and here you is Cissie Ann wid dat 'plexion o' yo's as soft as a fresh born lam'. Dis wind aint for sweet chile's like you for it soun's like de pipe what de dibbil play as it whistles roun' dis chimney corner".

With all of my six years' wide experience, I always learned something new from Uncle Jake and somehow I enjoyed the musty smell of the dark cabin, the strings of red pepper draped in festoons, twists of "chawing baccer" and bunches of onions which hung from the rafters and the soft goose feather bed which Uncle Jake said warded off dampness and kept him from having "the misery in his stiff ol' jints". In spite of his protests as to me remaining longer, I settled myself on a three-legged stool and with the aid of his fumbling fingers took off my bonnet. My mother insisted that a bonnet was for protection from wind and sun, so I always wore mine, but I had to have assistance in removing it because mother braided my hair near the top of my head and pulled the plait through a hole in the bonnet left for that purpose, then the top was buttoned around it so my fingers could not remove it. Uncle Jake always laughed when he helped me take it off because we had to be rather secretive and not let mother find out.

Mammy Callie was in the kitchen churning, so I continued to ply Uncle Jake with questions while I waited for a glass of fresh buttermilk. I knew that my father was away at war and that Uncle Jake and Mammy Callie were looking after my grandparents, my mother and me, but they would not tell what war was like or why I could not go and play with other children--they always watched me when I played and everything was kept locked and hidden. It was all so strange and different from what it had been, but Uncle Jake was just the same and all he would say was, "Dis ol' worl' am just a vessel ob de Lawd and sometimes de contents of dat vessel jest don' agree, dey gets bilin' hot like when water am poured on burning embers, a powerful smoke do rise. So it is now, chile, dis ol' worl' jest got too hot wid sin and God am trying to cool it off wid refreshin' showers ob his love, but de dibbil am makin' sech a smoke it am smartin' God's eyes", and Uncle Jake would pat me on the head and I would smile and nod as if his explanation had been perfectly clear.

These thoughts of the afternoon before ran through my mind as I watched Uncle Jake as he limped through the snow with a big brown shawl wrapped around his stooped shoulders, a piece of home spun jeans pinned around his head and a pair of patched jeans trousers supported by heavy bands of the same material for suspenders. As he returned from milking, I wondered if he had my gray kitten in his pocket, but suddenly I realized he was hobbling hurriedly, the milk pail was thrown aside and he seemed badly frightened. I ran to find out what had occurred to upset Uncle Jake's usual carefree manner.

"De lock am gone! Dat mule am gone! Dem bushwhackers done tuk it off and I's done gone atter 'em, right now". His eyes flashed as he shouted without stopping and he hobbled down to his cabin. Grandfather went down and tried to convince him that the weather was too cold to attempt to follow the thief and to wait until later, but the old negro began quoting scripture as he put on another coat and heavy knit gloves. "De Lawd say, 'Dey shall not steal', and de white folks is sho' to think I tuk 'at mule off. Fuddermore, in de 'pistle ob de 'postle, Isaiah, he say, 'Be a clean vessel ob de Lawd God', and I gonna find out de truf and prove my position 'fore dese people. Dat low-down scallawag what come here wid no 'nouncement ob his 'pearance is gwine suffer for dis here axident. He nebber reckoned wid me". And with that Uncle Jake waded into the deep snow and was last seen following the creek down through the meadow as it meandered underneath an icy crust.

Several days passed and anxiety began to show on the faces of those at home, but one morning Mammy Callie came to get breakfast with her face aglow. After praying most of the night, she said "The good Lord has given me a sho sign, for He done showed me a vision of a man up 'fore a Jedge and den I see Jake wid a bucket of oats and dat mule was toggin' behin' him".

His spirit was contagious and we lived in an atmosphere of expectancy during the day and were not surprised when we heard shouts of joy and praises to "de good Lawd" from Jake as he rode up on the old mule.

He had been unable to locate any tracks, but he had walked miles in the cold and sneaked around the barns and in the chimney corners to eavesdrop at the homes of those whom he suspected of being disloyal to the Confederate cause. While hiding under a haystack late one afternoon, he heard voices and he recognised his master's mule as it was sold by a stranger with a decided northern brogue to the owner of the place on which he was hiding. Uncle Jake almost shouted for joy, but he realised he was on "alien" territory so he remained out of sight. When the mule was fed and stabled, he skipped in under cover of darkness and led the mule away. In the excitement of getting away he forgot that he had crossed the county line, so no excuse was taken when the sheriff of that county took him into custody. Uncle Jake was hailed into court the next morning with the "owner" as witness against him.

"How old are you?" asked the judge in a stern manner.

"I's ol' enuf to know dat am de mule what belongs to Marster. I knows him by his bray", answered the negro, as he looked over the crowd and saw and felt no sympathy from any of them.

"You were caught with stolen goods out of your county and from all appearances you were hurt in the attempt to escape for I see you are limping. What do you say to that?"

Uncle Jake was trembling as he looked down at his smelly shoes. "No, sir, Jedge. You is sho' wrong. I jest receibed a commandment from my heabenly Father to walk in de Truth and I was serbing my white folks by getting back what is ders. Dis mule was stole by some po' sinner what don' know de scriptures".

At this point the sheriff from Jake's county, who was a good friend of our Marlow family, walked into the courtroom to see if he could help Jake in his difficulties. When the frightened negro saw him, he forgot the dignity of the court and shouted, "Praise de Lawd. I's been a vessel ob His for nigh onto sixty years and He's done fill me full ob Grace and Glory dis very hour".

And without further ado, he left the sheriff to make all explanations. As he ran to the hitching post the mule began to bray and as Uncle Jake mounted he shouted, "We're shaking de dust ob dis place from off our feet and goin' back to our (Fannin) county where we can con-tinue bein' vessels ob de Lawd and servin' our white folks".

As long as he lived, Uncle Jake was a faithful servant to his white folks. Every time I slipped away to spend a little time at the log-cabin, I always asked him to repeat the story of how he returned the mule and with each repeating he praised the Lord more for being a direct instrument in helping him prove to the countryside that he was "a clean vessel ob de Lawd", but he blamed the new shoes and his skinned heel for not getting across the county line before he was caught.

BIBLIOGRAPHY.

An old negro by the name of Jake identified a mule of his master's in court at Morganton. The little girls in the Morris family in Fannin County were made to wear bonnets with their hair pulled through so they could not be removed.

These two facts told me by Mr. J. R. Kincaid of Blue Ridge.

PLANTATION LIFE as viewed by Ex-Slave

MAHALA JEWEL
177 Berry Street
Athens, Georgia.

Written by: Grace McCune
Athens --

Edited by: Sarah H. Hall
Athens --

John N. Booth
District Supervisor
Federal Writers' Project
Residencies 6 & 7.

MAHALA JEWEL =Ex-Slave--Age 76.=

Mahala Jewel, known in the community as "Aunt Hailie," was sitting on her tiny porch when the interviewer arrived. "I'se a-tryin' to git my foots warm," she declared. "Dey was cold all last night, and didn't warm up none even when I had done walked all de way up to de courthouse to git dem cabbage what de welfare ladies had for me today. Yes Ma'am, hit sho' is hard times wid old Hailie now. I was raised whar folks had plenty. Our white folks warn't no pore white trash, and if my old Marster and Mist'ess was a-livin' today dey sho' would do somepin' for old Hailie in a hurry, 'cause dey allus give us plenty of evvything dey had."

Aunt Hailie's rickety chair was kept in vigorous motion as she talked and the visitor was fearful it would collapse at any moment. One rocker was broken and on top of the cushions in the low seat of the chair she was sitting on an old cheese box. Suddenly she arose to go in the house to "see if dem cabbages is a-burnin'," and when she returned she carefully adjusted the box before resuming her precarious perch in the old rocking chair. When she was sure that her feet were in a sunny spot, she began her narrative.