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Alexander, Alice Age 88 400 East Grand Avenue Oklahoma City, Oklahoma Bertha P. Tipton, Reporter 5/8/1937

Oklahoma Writers Project Oklahoma Historical Society

1. I was 88 years old 15th of last March. Born March 15, 1839 at Jackson Parish, La. My mother's name is Mary Marlow, an' father Henry Marlow.

2. Lets see, I cannot remembah very much 'bout slavery 'cause you know I was awful small, but I can remembuh that my mother's master, Colonel Threff died, an' my mother, her husband and we three chillun was handed down to Colonel Threff's po' kin folks. Chile Colonel Threff owned about two or three hundred head o' niggers, and all of 'em was tributed to his po' kin. Ooh wee! he had jest a lot o' dem po' kin. Marster Joe Threff, one of his po' kin took my mother, her husband and three of us chillun fum Louisiana to the Mississippi line.

3. Down thar I worked 'round the house an' looked aftah de smaller chillun, I mean my mother's chillun. 4. We lived in a one room log hut, and slept on homemade rail bed steads wid cotton, an' sum times straw, mos'ly

straw summers an' cotton winners. 5. My mother died rite heah in dis house. She was 111 yeahs old. She been dead 'bout 20 yeahs. 6. Diden no any Crismus was in dem days. 7. I got great great gran' chillun heah, rite heah. 8. We et yeller meal corn bread an' sorghum molasses. I et possums but coulden stan' rabbit. 9. I can't membuh nuthin' 'bout no churches in slavery. I was a sinner an' luv to dance I remembuh I was on the

floor one nite dancing an I had fo' daughters on the floor wid me an' mah son was playing de music - That got me, I jest stopped and said I woulden cut another step.

10. Know nothing 'bout Abe Lincoln. Heard of 'im. 11. Know nothing 'bout Jeff Davis. Heard of 'im. 12. Know nothing 'bout Booker T. Washington. Heard of im 13. Know nothing 'bout patterollers. Heard 'em talkin' 'bout 'em. 14. Yas, we had a overseers an' my mother said he was the meanest man on earth. He'd jest go out in de fields and

beat dem niggers, an' my mother tole me one day he come out in de field beatin' her sister an' she jumped on 'im an' nelly beat 'im half to death an' ole Marster come up jest in time to see it all an' fired dat overseer. Said he diden want no man working fer 'im dat a woman could whip.

15. Remembah just a little 'bout de war. De soljers had on blue clothes. Membuh lot of talk 'bout 4th of August 16. My pappy moved us away an' stayed 'roun down dare 'till I got to be a grown woman an' married. You know I

had a pretty fare weddin' 'cause my pappy had worked hard an' commence to be prospus. He had cattle, hogs, chicken an' all dat.

17. A college of dem niggers got togedder an' pack up to leave Louisiana in March. We had covered wagons, an' chile let me tell you I walked nally all the way fum Louisiana to Oklahoma. We left in March, diden git heah 'till May. Came in soch of ejecation. I got a pretty fare ejecation down dar but diden take care of it. We come to Oklahoma looking for de same thang then dat darkies go north looking fer now. We got dissipinted.

18. I luv to fish. Chile I've woiked hard in my days. Washed an' ironed for thirty years. Paid fur dis home. Yes dis is my home.

19. Never did go to school 'till aftah the surrender. Commence going to school in Memphis. What little I learnt I quit takin' care of it and seeing aftah it an' lost it all.

20. I'm a membuh of the Baptist Church an' been for 25 or thirty years. I jined 'cause I wanted to be good 'cause I was a awful sinner.

21. I have three daughters here married. You know Sussie Pruitt, don'tcha? Bertie Shannon an' Irene Freeman. Irene lost her husband.

Cauthier, Sheldon F. 9-16-37 Tarrant Co., Dist. #7(Yes)

Andy J. Anderson, 94, was born a slave to Mr. Jack Haley, who also owned Andy's parents with 12 other families and a plantation located in Williamson Co., Tex. In view of the fact that all slaves used the name of their owner, Andy was known as Andy Haley but after his freedom, he changed his name to Anderson, the name his father used because he was owned by a Mr. Anderson before his sale to Mr. Haley. Shortly after the Civil War began, Andy was sold to Mr. W. T. House, of Blanco Co., Tex., who sold him again in less than a year to his brother, Mr. John House. After the Emancipation Act became effective, Andy was hired by a Mr. Whisterman. His first wages were his clothes, room and board with $2.00 per mo. He farmed all of his life and has been married three times, now living with his third wife and eight of his children at 301 Armour St., Ft. Worth, Tex. His story:

1. "My name am Andy J. Anderson an' I's bo'n on Marster Jack Haley's plantation in Williamson County, Texas. Marster Haley owned my folks an' 'bout 12 udder fam'lies ob cullud folks.

2. "How come I's took de name ob Anderson, 'stead ob Haley? It am dis away, my pappy was owned by Marster Anderson who sold him to Marster Haley, so he goes by de name ob Anderson. Dey use to call me Haley but aftah Surrendah, I'se change de name to Anderson to have it de same as my pappy's.

3. "I's bo'n in 1843. Dat makes me 94 yeahs ol', an' 18 yeahs ol' w'en de war stahted. Tharfo', dis nigger has seen a good deal of slave life an' some hahd 'speriences dunn' dat time an' good times too.

4. "Marster Haley am kind to his cullud folks. In fact, him am kind to ever'body an' all de folks lak him. Whuppin's am not given 'cept w'en it am necessary an' dat am not often an' am reasonable w'en it am given. De udder w'ite folks use to call weuns de petted niggers.

5. "De plantation have 12 fam'lies ob slaves. Thar am 'bout 30 ol' an' young workers an' 'bout 20 piccaninnies dat am too young fo' work. Dem dat am too young fo' work am took care ob by a nurse durin' de day w'ile de mammies am a workin' in de field an sich.

6. "I's gwine to 'splain how it am managed on Marster Haley's place. Marster Haley am a good manager an' ever'one am 'signed to do certain jobs. It am diffe'nt now, dan 'twas den. A plantation am sort ob lak de small town. Ever'thing dat am used on de place am made thar. So, thar am de shoemaker. Him also am de tanner an' make de leathah f'om de hides.

7. "Thar am 'bout 1,000 sheep on de Marster's place, so thar am de person dat 'tends to de sheep an' de wool. De sheep am sheared twice a yeah.

8. "De wool am carded, spun an' weaved into cloth an' f'om dat cloth, all de clothes am made. Thar am 'bout 25 head ob cattle, sich p'vides de milk an' buttah, also beef meat fo' eatin'. Den thar am turkeys, chickens, hawgs an' bees.

9. "De plantation am planted in cotton, mosly. Co'se, dere am co'n an' wheat. De con am fo' feed fo' de stock an' to make co'n meal fo' de humans. De wheat am fo' to make flouah. Mars- ter don' sell any co'n or wheat, 'less if he have extra. Cotton am w'at he raised fo' sale.

10. "Let me tell yous how we cut an' thresh de wheat. Thar am no binders, or threshin' machines, so weuns cut de wheat by han', usin' a cradle. To thresh de grain, it am hung over a rail wid de heads down, an' de heads am beat wid a stick. Dat knocks de kernels out an' dey falls on a canvass dat am spread to catch dem. Now, to clean de wheat, weuns have to wait fo' a day w'en de wind am blowin' jus' right. W'en dat day comes, weuns pick de wheat up wid pails, raise it up an' pour it out an' de wind blows de chaff an' sich away.

11. "De livin' fo' de cullud folks am good. De quatahs am built f'om logs lak deys all am in dem days. De flooah am dirt but weuns have a table an' bench, a bunk wid straw ticks on fo' sleepin' pupose, an' a fiah place fo' cookin' an' heat. Marster 'lows plenty ob good rations, but he watch close fo' de wastin' oh de food.

12. "De wah stahts an' dat makes a big change on de Marster's place. De Marster j'ins de ahmy an' hires a man named Delbridge fo' overseer to he'p de Marster's son, John. Den, in 'bout three months, de soldiers come an' took Marster John to de ahmy by fo'ce. Deys put him on a hoss an' tooks him away.

13. "Thar come pretty neah bein' some hu't niggers de day deys took Marster John away. You see, weuns don' know dey had de right to took Marster 'way, so weuns cullud folks crowded 'roun' de Marster an' warnt gwine to 'low dem to took him. De Marster tol' weuns to go 'way 'cause de soldiers have de right to took him an' weuns jus' git hu't if weuns try to stop de soldiers, so weuns dispatched.

14. "Aftah Marster John am took away an' de overseer am lef' in whole charge, hell stahts to pop. De fust thing he does am to cut de rations. He weigh out de meat, three pounds to de person fo' de week an' he measures out a peck ob meal, 'twarnt 'nough. He ha'f starve do niggers an' demands mo' wo'k an' he stahts de whuppin's. I's guess he 'cides to edumacate dem. I's guess Delbridge went to hell w'en he died.. .I's don' think he go dat far, though. I's don' see how de devil could stand him.

15. "Weuns cullud folks on Marster's place am not used to sich treatment an' some run off. W'en deys am catched, thar am a whuppin' at de stake. Thar am a couple ob de runaway niggers dat am never catched.

16. "I's 'scaped de worst ob Delbridge 'cause he sol' me. I's sol' to Marster W.T. House ob Blanco County. I's sho glad w'en I's sol', but it am sho't gladness. W.T. House am anudder man dat hell am too good fo'. I's not on dat place long, jus' a few months 'til I's sol' to his brothah, John House, who had a big plantation close by.

17. "I's git one whuppin' while on de W.T. House place. De scahs am on my ahms, see thar, an' on my back too. Dem I's will carry to my grave. De whuppin' I's git am fo' de cause as I's will 'splain. 'Twas dis away; De overseer sent me fo' de dry fiah wood. W'en I's gits de wood loaded an' stahts to drive, de wheel hits a sho't stump, de team jerks an' dat breaks de whippletree. I's tries to fix dat so dat de load could be hauled in. I's delayed quite a spell while de cook am waitin' fo' de wood. Aftah I's tries an' tries, it am necessary fo' me to walk to de bahn fo' anudder whippletree. De overseer am at de bahn wen I's gits dere. He am gittin' ready to staht aftah me. I's tell w'at am de delay. Me am poweful mad 'cause I's hit de stump an' sich.

18. "De overseer ties me to de stake an' ever' ha'f hour, fo' fouah hours, deys lay 10 lashes on my back. Fo' de fust couple ob hours, de pain am awful. I's never fo'git it. Aftah I's stood dat fo' a couple oh hours, I's could not feel de pain so much an' w'en dey took me loose, I's jus' ha'f dead. I's could not feel de lash 'cause my body am numb, an' my mind am numb. De last thing I's 'membahs am dat I's wishin' fo' death. I's laid in de bunk fo' two days gittin' over dat whuppin'. Dat is, gittin' over it in de body but not in de heart. No Sar! I's have dat in my heart 'til dis day.

19. "Aftab dat whuppin', I's don't have my heart in de wo'k fo' de Marster. If I's see some cattle in de co'n field, I's tu'n my back 'stead ob chasm' dem out. I's guess de Marster sees dat I's not to be d'pended on an' dat's m'ybe de reason he sol' me to his brothah, John.

20. "John House am jus' de udder way f'om his brothah 'bout de treatment ob de cullud folks. Marster John never hit a nigger.

21. "W'en surrendah am 'nounced, Marster right away tells his niggers dat dey am free. He calls allus together an' tells weuns dat it am jus' a sho't time 'til de o'dah fo' to free de niggers will be given. He says, "Now, dem who stays will be paid wages, or weuns shall 'range fo' wo'kin' de land on shares". Whar he am a talkin' am in de field undah a big tree. I's standim' neah him an dere's whar my big mouth gits me all fustup.

22. "De Marster finished his statement asayin', "All yous niggers can stay wid me". I's says to myse'f, not loud 'nough fo' anyone to heah, I's thinks, but de Marster heahs me w'en I's says, "Lak hell I's will".

23. "Now, I's don't mean anything 'gainst de Marster. W'at I's mean am dat I's gwine to take my freedom, but he took it to mean something else. Something 'gainst him an' he says:

24. "W'at is dat yous says, nigger?" 25. "Nothin', Nothin Marster", I's says. 26. "I's heahs yous an' I's will 'tend to yous later", he says. 27. W'en dat took place, it am 'bout one hour by sun. I's 'gain talk to mysef, but I's sho keeps my lips closed. I's says,

"I's wont be heah long." 28. "I's not realize wat I's am in fo' 'til aftah I's stahted, but 'cose I's couldn't tu'n back. Fo' to tu'n back m'ybe mean a

whuppin' an' to go on means dangah f'om de Patter Rollers. Dere I's was, but I's kep' on gwine. De Patter Roller's duties am to watch fo' de nigger dat am widout de pass. No nigger am s'posed to be off his Marster's place 'less he have de statement f'om him. If de Patters catch me, deys would give me a whuppin' an' took me back to de Marster. Well, him am already mad over w'at I's says an' I's 'spected a whuppin' dere, so dis nigger am in a perdicklement

29. "I's travel at night an' ever'time I's see someone acomin', dis nigger sho hide 'til deys pass out oh de way. In de day, I's keeps hidden in de brush wid no an' no wautah 'cept w'en I's come to a creek. I's sho gittin' weak an' tired de second night. Twice I's sho de Patters pass wile I's hidin'.

30. "I's den 21 yeahs ol' but it am de fust time dat I's go any place, 'cept to de neighbahs so I's worried 'bout de right way to Marster Haley's place. However, de monin' ob de third day, I's come to de Marster's place, tired, hongry an' skeert 'bout de overseer 'cause Marster Haley am not home f'om de ahmy yet. I's sho wants to keep away f'om Delbridge, so I's waits my chance to see pappy. W'en I's did, he sho am s'prised to see me. Den I's tol' him w'at I's done an' he hides me in his cabin. Dere I's stay fo' a week, den luck comes to me w'en Marster Haley comes home.

31. "De Marster came home at night. De next mo'nin' befo' noon, Delbridge am shunt off de place. W'en de Marster gits up in de mo'nin , he looks at de niggers. Deys all are ga'nt an' lots have run off an' de fields am not p'operly plowed. Dere am 'bout ha'f ob his sheep lef', an' de same wid ever'thing.

32. "De Marster called Delbridge, an' soon aftah, Hell am a poppin'. De Marster says to him, "Whar is my sheep, chickens, hawgs, an' all de udder stuff? W'at about dem ga'nt niggers, an' w'at did yous do wid de rations?" Delbridge stahts to talk an' de Marster says befo' he could says a word, "Shut up! Dere am no words can 'splain w'at yous done. Git off my place befo' I's smash yous!" Den 'twarnt long 'til Delbridge am gwine down de road wid his bundle.

33. "I's stay wid Marster Haley 'til freedom am o'dered. Den I's hired out to Marster Whisterman fo' $2.00 a month wid de clothes an' boa'd. De work was fahm work. All my life, I's follow fahm work.

34. "I's mai'ied de fust time in 1883. Weuns had two chilluns but dey both died. Den in 1885, I's mai'ied 'gain. My second wife died in 1934. If she had lived 15 days longah, weuns would have been together 50 yeahs. Dere was six chilluns bo'n to weuns. Three am livin' heah an' one in Belton, de udders am dead. I's mai'ied my present wife on June 11th, 1936. Dere am no chilluns yet f'om my third mai'age.

35. "De last few yeahs, I's not fahmed but worked at odd jobs an raise chickens on dis big lot I's live on. Dere am not much mo' work fo' dis person. Still, I's healthy an' able to work but de Bible says fouah score an' ten, an' I's gittin' dere.

R S. Taylor Little Rock. Scott Bond

1. Sixty-four* years ago there was born near Canton, in Madison County, Mississippi, a slave child that was destined to show the possibilities of every American-born child of any race. It was a boy. His mother was subject to the unhallowed conditions of that time. That her son was to be numbered among the leaders of his generation was not to be thought of; that he should become the largest planter and land owner of his race and state seemed impossible; that as a merchant and all-round business man, owning and operating the finest and one of the largest mercantile establishments in his state was not to be dreamed of; that at the advanced age of 61 he would erect and operate successfully the largest excavating plant of its kind in Arkansas and one of the only two in the entire southland was beyond conception. Yet, these things and many others equally remarkable have been accomplished by the little Mississippi-born slave boy whose history these pages recount.

2. At the age of eighteen months, little Scott, removed with his mother to Collierville, Fayette County, Tennessee, and at the age of five years removed with his mother and step-father, William Bond, to the Bond farm, Cross County, Arkansas. The question of "States' Rights' was uppermost in the mind of the American people. Mighty

http://newdeal.feri.org/asn/asn13.htm#*
things were to happen that would settle forever this vexatious question. The south was drawing farther and farther from the north. The north was declaring "Union forever."

3. Bleeding Kansas! Forensic battles in the Congress of the United States! John Browns Raid! Then in April, 1861, the first shot of the civil war crashed against the solid granite walls of old Fort Sumpter. What has all this to do with some little obscure mulatto boy born on an obscure plantation somewhere down in Dixie? Just this: Had these tremendous events not transpired and ended as they did, the country would have still kept in bondage a race of men who have in fifty years - years of oppression and repression - shown to the world what America was losing. Booker T. Washington would not have revolutionized the educational methods of the world. Granville T. Woods would not have invented wireless telegraphy. There would have been no Negro troops to save the roughriders on San Juan Hill. There would have been no Negro soldiers to pour out their lifeblood at Carrizal. There would be no black American troops to offer to bare their dusky bosoms in the fiery hell beyond the seas today in the mighty struggle for world democracy. Scott Bond would have had no opportunity to prove to the world that if a man will he may.

*(This obviously should be 'eighty-four.' Editor's note.)

Scott Bond's Mother

4. I have said little about my mother. She was a slave and as such was housemaid. This brought her in close contact with the white people and gave her training not common to the masses of colored women of her day. Her duties were such however, that she could give but little attention to me. Still her sympathy and love for me was as great as any woman ever bore in her bosom for a son. I can remember on one occasion when I was quite small my heels were chapped. In those days, Negro boys were not allowed to wear shoes until 12 or 14 years of age. When I would walk early in the morning or late in the evening, blood that would ooze from the cracks in my feet, would mark my tracks.

5. On one occasion when my mother had finished her task as maid in the house she came to me late at night and took me from my bed to look at my feet. In those days, tallow was the cure all. One of my heels was so chapped and cracked open that one could almost lay his finger in the opening. She got some tallow and warmed it in a spoon and having no idea how hot it was poured it into the crack in my heel. As I held my heel up and my toe on the floor, the hot tallow filled the crack and ran down over my foot to my toes. I cried because of the intense pain the hot grease caused. My mother quieted me as best she could and put me to bed. When she got up next morning she examined my foot and to her amazement the hot tallow had raised a blister full length of my foot as large as one's finger. When she saw this she cried as if her heart would break and said as the tears streamed down her cheeks: "I did not mean to burn my child. I did not dream the tallow was so hot."

6. As mentioned before, slave boys rarely wore shoes until they were 12 or 14 years of age. It was great fun to go "possum and coon hunting in those days or rather nights. Young Scott would take long trips through the woods and swamps with the other slaves and would risk all the dangers of briars and of being bitten by poisonous reptiles because of his bare feet.

7. On one occasion when the dogs had treed a "possum little Scott was the one to climb the tree and shake him out. The "possum was away out on the end of a limb. The boys and men on the ground assured him the limb would not break. He let go the body of the tree and started out on the limb, which broke under the added weight and there was a squirming mixture of limb, boy, "possum and snapping dogs on the ground. Fortunately he was not bitten. Scott came out of the scrimmage victorious with a fall and a "possum.

8. On these trips the hunt would continue until all were loaded down with game, then they would return home. 9. On another occasion his mother had secured a pair of old boot tops and had a pair of shoes made for him. The

first time he went out his mother insisted that he wear the shoes. He put them on and started out. When he reached the woodpile he pulled off the shoes and hid them in the woodpile because their unfamiliar weight cumbered his progress.

10. It was on one of these hunting excursions that he so sprained his ankle that the next morning his foot was as large as two feet. An old slave woman advised him to hold his foot in cold water. He accordingly crawled to the well where the mules were watered and put his foot in the tub of water standing there. One of the hands rode up to water his mules and compelled the boy to take his foot out of the tub. The mules drank all the water and left the tub empty.

11. Scott put his foot back into the tub and shortly another man came along, drew water for his mules and then filled the tub for Scott's benefit. About this time the overseer came along and asked him what he was doing. Scott withdrew his foot from the water and showed him his swollen ankle. When asked about it he explained the cause of the accident. The overseer called one of the hands and had him empty the tub and fill it with fresh water for Scott and told him that was the best thing he could do.

12. Mr. Bond says that after all these years as he looks back upon that time, He wonders whether it was kindness in the overseer or the saving of a valuable Negro boy that prompted the action.

13. His mother was away above the average slave woman, in her training being a housemaid and seamstress in the days before the sewing machine. She came in daily contact with the most cultured and refined white women and was thereby immensely benefited. She had no time to give to her boy except late at night when her daily work was through and most other people were in bed. For this reason, Scott missed his mother's kindly ministrations in the years when most needed.

14. Poultry wire was unknown, the poultry yards were fenced with rails to keep the hogs from devouring the young fowls. Imagine if you can, a rail fence built tight enough to keep the hogs out and little goslings, turkeys and chickens in. It was one of little Scott's principal duties to march around the poultry yard and look after the young fowls. In cold weather the frost would bite his bare feet in rainy weather he acted as a brooder. Boys in those days wore single garments, a long sack-like slip with holes cut for head and arms. When it rains, goslings will stand with their heads up and drown in a short time if left to themselves. Little Scott would gather little goslings under his slip as the hen hovers her brood and thus protect them from the falling rain. It must have been a ticklish task to have a half hundred little geese under one's single garment scrounging and crowding for warmth.

15. After the war when his stepfather started out on his own hook, Scott's mother continued in the same line that she had been trained. It was Scott's duty to see after the fowls and at times to look out for the welfare of the sitting hens. His mother would mark the eggs, which she would put under the hen ready to set. Scott would have to keep the nests in repair and keep fresh eggs from the sitters' nests. Upon one occasion, Scott in his round, found a nest out of repair. He removed the hen, took the eggs from the nest and put them on the ground. He repaired the nest, put the hen back on the nest and left the eggs on the ground. The next morning his mother discovered the eggs on the ground and took the boy to task for his absent-mindedness. Drawing him across her 1ap, she took her slipper and was applying the treatment in the most approved way. That the operation was painful to Scott, goes without the saying. His mother told him she was not punishing him for the value of the eggs, but because of his forgetfulness; and seeing far into the future she told him further that his absent mindedness was the only thing that would ever "misput' him in life. Scott noticing the tone of her voice looked up and found her crying. He says, that from that moment, he felt no further pain from the slipper as his mother continued for some little time to wield it.

Scott Bond Hunts His Father

16. When the writer asked Mr. Bond what he knew of his father, he related this story of his hunt for his father: 17. "My mother died when I was quite small, and had never explained to me who was my father. She married my

step-father, who is still living, when I was eighteen months old. 18. "As I grew older and found that he was only my stepfather, I began to inquire who was my father, and where he

lived. My Aunt Martha told me I was born in Madison County, Mississippi, twelve miles from Canton, the county seat, at a little town called Livingston. That my father was a man, Wesley Rutledge, the nephew of Win. H. Goodlow.

19. "After I had gotten started out in life and had accumulated a little spare money, I thought I would like to visit the place of my birth and, if possible, find my father, and if he was in need, help him.

20. "In ante-bellum days Mr. Goodlow was a very rich man. He owned five hundred slaves and thousands of acres of land.

21. "My mother had a large chest, which, in those days, was used as a trunk. I had often seen her going through the things in that old chest. She would take out her calico dresses, which we people called "Sunday Clothes.' She would hang them out to air on Sundays. Among the things she would take from the chest was a pair of little red shoes and a cap, and would say to me: "These are the shoes your father gave you. " Being only a child, I thought she referred to my stepfather.

22. "I was married and we had two children and had rented a large farm, and I thought it a good time for this trip.

23. "I purchased a nice suit of clothes, then paid a visit to the barber and got neatly shaved and trimmed up, and pulled out for Canton, Miss., where arrived at night. The next day was a rainy, drizzly day. It was March, but the people were bringing into Canton onions, lettuce and other early vegetables. I was surprised to see this and thought they were being shipped in from farther south. I went to the livery stable the next day and introduced myself to the livery man as Bond from Arkansas. I told him I wanted to drive to Livingston, sixteen miles away. The liveryman, thinking I was white, said, "All right Mr. Bond, the horse and buggy and nipper to drive you will cost you three dollars.

24. "I told him I would be ready in about thirty minutes; and at the appointed time I paid him the money and started out for Livingston.

25. "We drove about two and one-half miles and opened a gate to the enclosed farm of Mr. Goodlow. The old colored man who was driving was as active as a boy, although his hair was as white as cotton. This old gentleman took me to be a white man, and as he had never asked me I did not make myself known to him. He used these words:

26. "'White folks, I have been in the country since I was a boy, and since that time I saw the man you are going to visit, harness up a hundred and fifty mules to be used on this farm. In those days the water almost boiled in this country. When you went to bed at night you could hear the blood hounds, and in the morning when you would wake up, you could hear them running colored people. The white folks said the music they made was the sweetest music in the world. There was once a runaway slave who had been chased at different times for four years. At last a set of patrolers came in with their dogs and said they were determined to catch him. They ran him for two days. Once in a while he would mislead the dogs and make them double on their tracks and he would gain a little rest. Eventually they would again pick up the trail and you could hear the hounds as they ran; say, here he goes sing-a-ding; there he goes, sing-a-ding. At last, finding that he could not escape, he ran deliberately into a blazing furnace and was burned to death rather than be caught and suffer the tortures that awaited him.'

27. "He regaled me with many other stories of slave life that he had witnessed. 28. "He told me that many a time he would be so tired from his day's work that he would not wake up in the

morning until the horn blew for work. He would not have time to cook himself any bread, and that he would run to the meal bowl and put a handful or two of meal in his hat and run with his bridle and catch his mule and while the mule was drinking, he would take water and mix the meal. Then when he got to the field he would go to a burning log-heap, when the overseer was not looking, and rake a place in the ashes and hot embers, put his cake in and cover it. Later, when chance permitted, he would take out his ashcake and eat it as he plowed. Thus he would work until dinnertime.

29. "This old man was more than an average man. 30. "After telling me many other stories of the hardships of the slave, he said that after all, the things that looked

hardest to him, were really blessings in disguise. These hardships had developed his self-reliance and resourcefulness, and now that he was a free man and a citizen, he could see a benefit, even in the hardships he had undergone. He said that he knew he was a Christian and that he was respected by all his neighbors, black and white.

31. "This instance is but one of ten thousand, showing that the Negro in his long apprenticeship, has gained in adverse circumstances, that he has wrung victory from oppression.

32. "By this time we had reached an elevation. He stopped his horse and pointed to a house in the distance that looked no larger than a cow. He told me that was the house to which we were going.

33. "As the distance lessened, the house proved to be a great mansion with beautiful lawns. 34. "He stopped in front. I got out, and as I passed up the walk, knowing this to be my birthplace, I felt that I was at

home. I rang the bell. It was answered by a large gentleman, who had a perfect bay window of a stomach. He was so large that he was unable to tie and untie his shoes.

35. "I said, "I suppose this is Mr. Goodlow?' 36. ""Yes; this is Goodlow.' 37. "Mr. Goodlow, this is Bond from Arkansas.' 38. ""Come in, Mr. Bond.' 39. "As I walked into the parlor over elegant Brussels carpets, I could see myself reflected from the mirrors on either

side of the hall. The furniture was rare and elegant, and was typical of the splendor of the old time southern mansion. I was invited to sit down and for the next hour answered a rain of questions about Arkansas.

40. "Mr. Goodlow was very much interested in the young state of Arkansas. 41. "At that time wild life in the state had not been much disturbed. Bears, wolves and panthers were plentiful.

Arkansas at that time bore the reputation of being a paradise for murderers and other criminals fleeing from justice. Hence, Mr. Goodlow was interested to learn from me all he could about these things, as well as about the climate and country in general.

42. "After I had imparted to him all I knew, I was then able to ask him a few questions, and began by saying: 43. "Mr. Goodlow, can you recollect hiring some slaves from the widow Bond's estate in 1852?" 44. "To which he replied, 'Yes; I remember hiring some slaves from the Maben estate. Mrs. Bond was a Miss

Maben.'" 45. "I suppose you are right. Do you remember hiring a man named Alex, a woman named Martha and also a bright

mulatto girl named Ann? Ann was said to be your house servant at that time." 46. "'Yes,' he said, "I remember that very distinctly.'" 47. "I proceeded: "Ann gave birth to a child while she was your servant. It is said that Mr. Rutledge, who was your

nephew and manager of your farm at that time, was the father of this child. It is further said that Mrs. Goodlow dressed the child and called it Scott Winfield."

48. "'You are certainly right,' he said. "All that is true.'" 49. "I then arose from my chair and, standing erect, said, 'I am the kid.'" 50. "I was at that time a young man, and from what I felt, and others said, I was a very good looking young man. I

had not been married a great while, and I knew my wife was a judge of beauty. 51. Mr. Goodlow said, "Wait a minute. " He stepped to the parlor door and called Mrs. Goodlow, telling her to come

in, he wanted her to see some one. 52. According to custom it took Mrs. Goodlow sometime to dress and make her appearance. 53. As she entered Mr. Goodlow said to her, "Do you know this boy sitting here?" 54. "I got up and put on my best looks. 55. "'No;' she replied. 'Mr. Goodlow, I have never seen him before.'" 56. "Mrs. Goodlow was a typical southern matron, and with her wealth of silvery hair, was the personification of

womanly grace and dignity. 57. "Yes you have,' remarked Mr. Goodlow. 'You put the first rag on him and named him 'Scott Winfield,' at the time

our son James was a baby.'" 58. "'No, Mr. Goodlow. I do not remember.'" 59. "'Don't you remember Ann, our housemaid, at the time Wess was managing our business?'" 60. "'Yes! Yes!' she exclaimed. 'I remember now. You are Scott Winfield.' 61. "She grasped my hand and said: 'I certainly dressed you and named you Scott Winfield.' 62. "It would be impossible to describe the scene that followed this greeting. Tears were shed, words were spoken

that came from deep down in our hearts. A more touching and sincere greeting rarely comes to one in a lifetime.

63. "I was most hospitably treated and was urged to stay all night. I accepted and was given a nice room. The next day I was shown the place where I was born.

64. "Mr. Goodlow accompanied me. He had a man go into the "plunder room' and get out an old chair they used to tie me in, when my mother was about the duties in the house.

65. "One who does not know the south, can form no conception of the extreme hardships some of the slaves had to undergo; the many peculiar situations that would arise, nor can he have the faintest idea of the deep regard, and at times, even real affection that existed between the master and the favored slave. It is a reflex for this regard that is the basis of all the helpful things the better class of southern white people are now doing to help the Negro better his condition to rise to higher planes of manhood.

66. The following day I found an opportunity to explain to Mr. Goodlow, privately, the cause of my visit, and to ask the whereabouts of my father.

67. "I told him that prior to the war, there were many people who were wealthy. Many of these were greatly impoverished by changed conditions. I had come to find my father, and if he was in need to help him.

68. "I was informed by Mr. Goodlow that he was very sorry he would have to tell me that my father was dead. That he had moved to Texas twelve years before, and had died two years later. He also informed me that he had three children living and doing business in Canton, Miss.

69. "When I was ready to leave, Mr. Goodlow had me driven to Canton in his magnificent carriage. I called on the children in Canton and introduced myself as Bond from Arkansas. I congratulated them on their business but did not make myself known to them, so that all they ever knew of me was "Bond from Arkansas.

70. This brings up a thought. It has been stated by some careful statisticians that there are about 10,000,000 ____- blooded Negroes in the United States. Without accepting or rejecting this estimate, we will say that there are enough of that part of our population mixed-blood to at least keep the pot from calling the kettle black, in point of moral rectitude.

Settling A Strike

71. I had a tenant on my place named Charley Dilahunty, who claimed that he knew how to lay foundations and set up engines. He agreed to work for me at $1.50 per day.

72. When the machinery arrived, Charley and I started with our square, level and plumb bob and erected a plant that answered the purpose and paid for itself in two years.

73. On one occasion Charley claimed on Monday morning to be sick. I went to the gin, fired up and attempted to run the engine myself. I had been watching Charley pretty closely in order to get an idea as to how to handle the engine.

74. I raised steam, put on two gauges of water, oiled up and opened the throttle to start. The engine failed to turn. I closed the throttle and examined the engine to the best of my ability. I could find nothing wrong. I then turned on the steam slowly until I had the throttle wide open, still the engine would not move. I closed the throttle and had the boys help me turn the flywheel over. Five men put on all their strength and yet they failed to move the flywheel.

75. By this time the steam gauge showed up one hundred pounds, and the boiler was popping off. 76. I threw open the exhaust, raised the flue door and put on the water. I was afraid to take the wrench and go to

loosening bolts for fear of loosening the wrong one. 77. The ginner came down to the engine room and said, "Mr. Bond I think Charley Dilahunty jammed that engine." 78. "Why do you think so?" 79. "Because he said Saturday night that he did not expect that engine to turn any more until he got $2.00 per day

for his services." 80. "Did Charley tell you this?" 81. "He did!" 82. I was at a loss to know what to do. I walked off and sat down on a bench. The more I studied over it, the worse

shape I found myself in. I called for my horse, which was hitched to the fence, jumped into my saddle. I went half a mile past Charley's house and a half mile father to my own house.

83. I grabbed my shotgun and returned to Charley's house. I called Mary, his wife, to the door. I told her to ask Charley to come out.

84. He came. I said to him, "Come here, Charley." I moaned the gate. "Get on up the road to the gin house," I ordered. He wanted to go back and get his hat. I told him they did not bury men with their hats on.

85. Up the road he went for about three hundred yards. He then stopped and said: "I have not done anything to the engine."

86. "Get on up the road," I commanded. 87. When we arrived at the gin, I said to him: "Walk up to the door and stop." 88. I dismounted, advanced on him with my shotgun and told him to get the wrench and unjam that engine. If he

did not do it in ten minutes, I would kill him if he was the last man on earth. 89. He picked up the wrench, made two turns on a certain nut. I asked him if the engine was ready for service. 90. He said, "Yes sir. 91. He opened the throttle. The engine moved off nicely. 92. I said to him, "I look for you to stay here and run this engine until night." It was about twelve o'clock. Charley

said, "I have not had any dinner yet." 93. "You may not need any dinner after today." 94. Charley weighed about 190 pounds. I, a little insignificant Negro, weighed about 108 pounds, so I thought it a

wise plan to keep close company with my shotgun.

95. We ginned six bales of cotton after dinner. I weighed the cotton. At seven o'clock I sent a boy into the engine room to tell Charley to blow the whistle for quitting time.

96. I locked up the gin and got on my horse. Charley had cooled down and was standing at the door of the engine room. He said: "Mr. Bond, I want you to forgive me for the wrong I have done."

97. "What have you done wrong, Charley?" 98. "I jammed the engine and caused you to lose half of the day's work with all the crew." 99. "What prompted you to do that?" 100. "I thought I should have more wages--$l.75 a day anyhow." 101. "Why did you not walk up to me like a man and say so?" 102. "All I can say is I did wrong and I want you to forgive me." 103. "This was your own contract--to help me set up the engine and run the gin for the season for a dollar

and a half a day. Now, Charley, I am going to give you $2.00 per day and I want steam at five o'clock every morning from now on."

104. We were good friends after that. All went well.

Scott Bond Moves To Madison

105. Scott Bond moved to Madison, St. Francis County, Ark., with his stepfather, who had bargained to buy a farm, in 1872, and remained with him until he was 21 years of age. He then undertook to vouch for himself. His stepfather contracted with him to remain with him until he was 22 years of age. His pay was to be one bale of cotton, board, washing and patching. He thought the pay was small, but for the sake of his little brothers, that they might have a home paid for, he remained that year. The next year he walked eighteen miles to the Allen farm, having seen the possibilities in the fertile soil of that place in the two years he had worked on it with his stepfather. He decided that would be the place to make money. He rented 12 acres of land at $6.50 per acre. He had no money, no corn, no horse, nothing to eat, no plows, no gears; but all the will power that could be contained in one little hide. In 1876 he rented 35 acres and hired one man. In 1877 he married Miss Magnolia Nash of Forrest City. The Allen farm, as stated elsewhere, contained 2,200 acres. The proprietor lived in Knoxville, Tenn. She sent her son over the next autumn, who insisted on Scott Bond renting the whole place. This he refused to do on the ground that he was unable to furnish the mules, feed, tools and other stock sufficient to cultivate it. Mr. Allen took a letter from his pocket that read: "Now, Scott, I have told Johnnie to be sure and do his uttermost to rent you this place, and as I am sure it would be quite a burden on you financially, you may draw on me for all the money that is required to buy mules, corn and tools." And at the bottom: "Scott, I think this will be one of the golden opportunities of your life." This lady was near kin to Scott Bond's former owner. He grasped the opportunity. There were all sorts of people living on the Allen farm. Some half-breed Indians, some few white families and some low, degraded colored people. The whites were no better than the others. The first thing Scott Bond had to do was to clean up the farm along those lines. He then secured axes, cross cut saws, and built a new fence around the entire farm - something that had not been done for 20 years. When the crops were gathered and disposed of, Scott paid Mrs. Allen and everyone else for the rent and all other obligations. He received from Mrs. Allen, the owner of the farm, who lived in Knoxville, Tenn., a fine letter of thanks and congratulations for the improvements on the farm. The net profits, all bills paid, were $2,500, in addition to the gains on cotton seed. This farm is situated right at the east base of Crowley's Ridge, 42 miles due west of the Mississippi River. There were no levees in this county at that time, and when the overflows came we had a sea of water spread out from the Mississippi to the ridge. Mr. Bond said the next winter there came the biggest overflow he had ever seen. He took his boat and moved all the people, mules, cattle, hogs and horses to Crowley's Ridge. He lived about a mile and a half from Crowley's Ridge and owing to a deep slough or bayou between him and the ridge he was compelled to use a boat. There was perhaps no more exciting time in Mr. Bond's life than when with his boat he would brave the dangers of the murky flood and with the help of his crew scout the country over hunting out and rescuing people and stock from the rising, rushing waters. It is said by those who know, that Scott Bond saved the lives of hundreds of people, white and black. In this particular overflow he had 7,000 bushels of corn and 10,000 pounds of meat that he had killed and cured. He saved all this by putting it in the lofts of the different buildings on the place. Having secured his own people and property, he spent his time looking out and helping his neighbors. He lived in the great house on the Allen farm. He took flour barrels, placed planks on them for a scaffold to put his cooking stove and bed on. The next day he ran his dugout

into the house and tied it to his bedpost. Three days later he was compelled to get another set of barrels to raise his scaffold a little higher. On the third evening he arrived at home between sundown and dark with all his boatmen in dugouts. It was impossible to get in the door on account of the water. They ran the boats in through the windows, each man to his sleeping place. Every one of them was as wet as rats. They would have to stand on the head end of their boats to change their wet clothing before getting into their beds. The cook and his helper, who looked after things in the absence of the boats, were brave to start in with and promised to stay with Scott Bond as long as there was a button on his shirt, but when they saw the boats coming in through the top sash of the window their melts drew up. They said, "Mr. Bond, we like you and have always been willing to do anything you asked us to do, but this water is away beyond where we had any idea it would be. We are going to leave tomorrow morning."

106. They had all changed and put on dry clothing, and as a matter of course felt better. The next call was supper and dinner combined. A big teakettle full of strong, hot coffee, spare ribs, backbones, hog heads, ears and noses. There was some shouting around that table. Mr. Bond says he did not attempt to pacify the cook and hostler until after all had finished supper, as the time to talk to an individual is when he has a full stomach.

107. "The next day when we started out," says Mr. Bond, "I instructed my men to 'do as you see me do.' If a cow jumps over board, follow her and grab her by the tail and stick to her until you come to some sapling or grape vine; grab it and hold to it until help arrives. Any man can hold a cow by the tail or horn in this way."

108. All Mr. Bond's people were comfortably housed on Crowley's Ridge. In those days people did not need the assistance of the government to take care of them. They had plenty of corn, meat and bread they produced at home. Six months later you could not tell that there ever had been an overflow from the looks of the corn and cotton.

109. "But to return to the boys who were getting frightened at the ever-increasing flood," said Mr. Bond, "we all loaded our pipes and you may know there was a smoke in the building. 'Twas then I said, 'Boys, all sit down and let's reason with one and another. The water will be at a standstill tomorrow evening. Really know what I am talking about, because the stage of the river at Cairo always governs the height of the water here. That is a thing I always keep posted on. While this, the great house, is two-thirds full of water, you must remember that this is the eddy right along here, and anyone of you take your spike pole and let it down to the floor and you will find from 8 to 10 inches of sand and sediment.'

110. "One man said, 'I know he is right, because whenever an overflow subsides I have to shovel out from ten to twelve inches of sand. This house is built out of hewn logs, 46 feet long and the biggest brick stack chimneys in the middle I ever saw. Now, boys with all this meat and other things piled on this scaffold you are perfectly safe. I am feeding you boys and paying you well. I am only asking you to do what you see me do. This satisfied them and we stuck together."

Starting a Negro School

111. In 1886, a northern gentleman, Mr. Thorn, was renting the Bond farm. He was very kindly disposed toward the colored people. He wrote to Memphis for a teacher for a colored school. The parties to whom he wrote, referred him to Miss Celia Winchester. She accepted the school.

112. There were no railroads in this part of the country at that time. The only method of transportation was from Memphis, by steamboat, down the Mississippi and up the St. Francis rivers to Wittsburg.

113. When the boat arrived at Wittsburg, Mr. Thorn, not knowing the customs of the south, secured a room at the hotel for Miss Winchester, who was an Oberlin, Ohio, graduate. She had attended school with the whites at that famous seat of learning. She too, was ignorant of the customs prevailing in the south.

114. When the proprietor of the hotel learned that Miss Winchester was colored, he went out and bought a cowhide. He met Mr. Thorn on the street, held a pistol to him and cow-hided him.

115. Mr. Thorn stood and cried. He said that he was seventy years old and had never done any one any harm in his life. What he had done was not intended as a violation of custom.

116. We lived about sixteen miles out of Wittsburg. The next day a wagon met Mr. Thorn and Miss Winchester and took them to the farm.

117. Thus was opened the first school for Negroes in this part of the country and the first school I had ever seen. In the school my stepfather and myself were classmates in the A B C class.

Sitting On A Snake

118. There was a woman named Julia Ann on our plantation, who, one day at dinnertime, went to a tree where she had hung her dinner bucket. She reached up and got the bucket and backed up to the tree and sat down between its protruding roots to eat her dinner. When she got up, she found she had been sitting on a rattlesnake. The snake was killed. He had fifteen rattlers and a button on his tail. Ann fainted when she saw the snake. She said that she had felt the snake move, but thought that it was the cane giving way beneath her.

119. Snakes of that size and variety were numerous in Arkansas in those times. 120. I heard of an instance where a man built a house on a flat, smooth rock on a piece of land that he had

bought. It was in the autumn when he built his house. When the weather grew cold he made a fire on the rock. There had been a hole in the rock, but the man had stopped it up.

121. One night he had retired, and late in the night, his child, which was sleeping between him and his wife, became restless and awakened him. He reached for the child and found what he supposed was his wife's arm across the child. He undertook to remove it and to his consternation, found he had hold of a large snake. He started to get out of bed, to make a light, and the whole floor was covered with snakes. He got out of the house with his wife and child.

122. The next day the neighbors gathered, burned the house and (manuscript breaks off)

Chessier, Betty Foreman Age 94 624 N.E. 5th Oklahoma City, Oklahoma Ida Belle Hunter, Reporter

Oklahoma Writers' Project Oklahoma Historical Society

1. I was born July 11, 1843 in Raleigh, NC. 2. My mother was name Melinda Manley, the slave of Governor Henley of N.C. an' my father was name Arnold

Foreman, slave of Bob and John Foreman, two young mastahs. They come over from Arkansas and visit my mastah an' my pappy and mammy met an' got married doe my pappy only seen my mammy ever summah when his mastahs come to visit our mastah an' day tuck him rat back. I had three sisters an' two brothers an' none of dem was my whole brothers an' sisters. Funny t'ing. I stayed in the big house all the time, but my sisters an' brothers was gived to the mastah's sons an' daughters when dey got married an' dey was tole to sen' bac' for some more when dem died. I diden never stay with my mammy doing of slavery. Honey I stayed in the big house. I slep' under the dinin' room table with three other darkies. Doe now the flo' was well carpeted. Don't remembah my grandmammy and grandpappy, but my mastah was they mastah.

3. I stayed in the big house and waited on the table, kept flies offen my miz and went for the mail. Never made no money, but dey did give the slaves money at Christmas time.

4. I et what the white folks et an' dey diden eat no 'possums and rabbits, doe dey et fish. My choice food was soup an' still is. No gardens where I lived, cose I diden live on no plantation. I lived in town all the time. Day all had gardens out on the plantation doe.

5. I never had over two dresses. One was calico and one gingham. I had sich under cloes as dey wore den. 6. Mastah Manley and Miz had 6 sons an' six darters. Dey raised dem all tell day was grown too. Dey lived in a

gread big house cross the street from the mansion, rat in town 'fo Mastah was 'lected Governor, den day moved in all dat mansion.

7. Plantation folks had barbecues and lay crops an' invite the city darkies out. I weren't hongry, I warent naked and chile I got five licks from the white folks in my life. Dey was for being sich a big fergitful girl.

8. Mestah had jes' 15 slaves on the place and when his chillun come home to visit ever summah dey had to bring day own niggers. Dey brung two a piece.

9. I saw 'em sell niggers once. The only pusson I ever seed whipped at dat whipping post, was a white man. 10. Now, chile I never got no learnin', day kep' us fum dat, but you know some of dem darkies learnt anyhow.

11. We had church in the heart of town or in the basement of some old buildin'. I went to the 'piscopal church mos' all the time, tell I got to be a Baptist.

12. The slaves run 'way to the North 'cause dey wanted to be free. Some of my family run away sometime en' dey diden catch 'am neither. The patterollers sho' watched the streets. But when day caught any of Mastah's niggers wid out passes, day jest locked him up in the guard house and mastah coma down in the mawnin' an' git 'er out, but dem patterollers better not whip one.

13. I doesn't remembah any play songs, 'cause I was almost in prison chile. I couldn't play with any of the darkies. I doesn't remembah playin' in my life when I was a little girl en' when I got grown I diden wanta.

14. When I fust come heah I couldn't understan' the folks heah, cause dey diden quit work on Easter Monday. That is some day in North Caroline even today.

15. I know when the war commenced and ended. Mastah Manley sent me from the big house to the office about 1/2 mile 'way. Jest as I got to the office door, three man rid up in blue uniforms and said, "Dinah, do you have any milk in there?" I was sent down to the office for some beans for to cook dinner, but dem men mos' nigh scaid me to death. They never did go in dat office, jes' rid off on horseback about a quarter of a mile and seem lak rat now. Yankees fell outta the very sky, 'cause hundeds and hundeds was everwhere you could look to save your life. Old Miz sent one of her grandchillun to tell me to come on and one of the Yankees tole dat chile "You tell your grandmother she ain't comm' now and never will come back there as a slave." Mastah was setting on the mansion po'ch. Dem Yankees come up on de porch, go down in cellar and don't tech one blessed t'ing. Old Miz tuoh heart trouble. Dem Yankees whipped white folks going and comin'.

16. After the war, I went to mammy and my step-pappy. She done married agin. I left and went to Warrington and Hallifax, North Carolina jest for a little while nursing some white chillun.

17. I laid in my bed a many night scared to death of Ku Klux Klan. Dey would come to your house and axe for a drink and no more want a drink den nothin'.

18. When I got married I jumped a broomstick. I am the mother of 4 chillun and 11 grandchillun. To git unmarried, all you had to do was to jump backwards over the same broomstick.

19. Lincoln and Booker T. Washington was two of the finest men ever lived. Don't thank nothin' of Jeff Davis, 'cause he was a traitor.

20. Freedom for us was the bes' t'ing ever happened. 21. Prayer is bes' t'ing in the worl'. Everybody oughtta pray, cause prayer got us outta slavery. 22. I stayed in Raleigh, where I was born tell 7 years ago, when I come to Oklahoma to live wid my only livin' chile.

Betty Cofer, North Carolina N.C.

[NDN Editor's note. This interview is misidentified in Rawick at that of "Louise J. Evans."]

(Mary A. Hicks, Interviewer Daisy Dailey Waitt, Editor N.C.)

1. The ranks of negro ex-slaves are rapidly thinning out, but, scattered here and there among the ante-bellum families of the South, may be found a few of these picturesque old characters. Three miles north of Bethania, the second oldest settlement of the "Unitas Fratrum" in Wachovia, lies the 1500 - acre Jones plantation. It has been owned for several generations by the one family, descendants of Abraham Conrad. Conrad's daughter,

Julia, married a physician of note, Dr. Beverly Jones, whose family occupied the old homestead at the time of the Civil War.

2. Here, in 1856, was born a negro girl, Betty, to a slave mother. Here, today, under the friendly protection of this same Jones family, surrounded by her sons and her sons' sons, lives this same Betty in her own little weather- stained cottage. Encircling her house are lilacs, althea, and flowering trees that soften the bleak outlines of unpainted out-buildings. A varied collection of old-fashioned plants and flowers crowd the neatly swept dooryard. A friendly German-shepherd puppy rouses from his nap on the sunny porch to greet visitors enthusiastically. In answer to our knock a gentle voice calls, "Come in." The door opens directly into a small, low- ceilinged room almost filled by two double beds. These beds are conspicuously clean and covered by home- made crocheted spreads. Wide bands of hand-made insertion ornament the stiffly starched pillow slips. Against the wall is a plain oak dresser. Although the day is warm, two-foot logs burn on the age-worn andirons of the wide brick fire place. From the shelf above dangles a leather bag of "spills" made from twisted newspapers.

3. In a low, split-bottom chair, her rheumatic old feet resting on the warm brick hearth, sits Aunt Betty Cofer. Her frail body stoops under the weight of four-score years but her bright eyes and alert mind are those of a woman thirty years younger. A blue-checked mob cap covers her grizzled hair. Her tiny frame, clothed in a motley collection of undergarments, dress and sweaters, is adorned by a clean white apron. Although a little shy of her strange white visitors, her innate dignity, gentle courtesy, and complete self possession indicate long association with "quality folks."

4. Her speech shows a noticeable freedom from the usual heavy negro dialect and idiom of the deep South. "Yes, Ma'am, yes, Sir, come in. Pull a chair to the fire. You'll have to 'scuse me. I can't get around much, 'cause my feet and legs bother me, but I got good eyes an good ears an' all my own teeth. I aint never had a bad tooth in my head. Yes'm, I'm 81, going on 82. Marster done wrote my age down in his book where he kep' the names of all his colored folks. Muh (Mother) belonged to Dr. Jones but Pappy belonged to Marse Israel Lash over yonder. (Pointing northwest.) Young'uns always went with their mammies so I belonged to the Joneses. "Muh and Pappy could visit back and forth sometimes but they never lived together 'til after freedom. Yasm, we was happy. We got plenty to eat. Marster and old Miss Julia (Dr. Jonas wife, matriarch of the whole plantation) was mighty strict but they was good to us. Colored folks on some of the other plantations wasn't so lucky. Some of 'em had overseers, mean, cruel men. On one plantation the field hands had to hussle to git to the end of the row at eleven o'clock dinner-time 'cause when the cooks brought their dinner they had to stop just where they was and eat, an' the sun was mighty hot out in those fields. They only had ash cakes (corn pone baked in ashes) without salt, and molasses for their dinner, but we had beans an' grits an' salt an' sometimes meat.

5. "I was lucky. Miss Ella (daughter of the first Beverly Jones) was a little girl when I was borned and she claimed me. We played together an' grew up together. I waited on her an' most times slept on the floor in her room. Muh was cook an' when I done got big enough I helped to set the table in the big dinin' room. Then I'd put on a clean white apron an carry in the victuals an' stand behind Miss Ella's chair. She'd fix me a piece of somethin' from her plate an' hand it back over her shoulder to me (eloquent hands illustrate Miss Ella's making of a sandwich.) I'd take it an run outside to eat it. Then I'd wipe my mouth an' go back to stand behind Miss Ella again an' maybe get another snack.

6. "Yasm there was a crowd of hands on the plantation. I mind 'em all an' I can call most of their names. Mac, Curley, William, Sanford, Lewis, Henry, Ed, Sylvester, Hamp, an' Luke was the men folks. The women was Nellie, two Lucys, Martha, Hervie, Jane, Laura, Fannie, Lizzie, Cassie, Tensie, Lindy, and MaryJane. The women mostly worked in the house. There was always two washwomen, a cook, some hands to help her two sewin' women, a house girl, an' some who did all the weavin' an' spinnin'. The men worked in the fields an' yard. One was stable boss an' looked after all the horses an' mules. We raised our own flax an cotton an' wool, spun the thread, wove the cloth, made all the clothes. Yasm, we made the mens' shirts and pants an' coats. One woman knitted all the stockin's for the white folks an' colored folks too. I mind she had one finger all twisted an' stiff from holdin' her knittin' needles. We wove the cotton an' linen for sheets an' pillow-slips an' table covers. We wove the wool blankets too. I used to wait on the girl who did the weavin'. 'When she took the cloth off the loom she done give me the 'thrums (ends of thread left on the loom.) I tied 'em all together with teensy little knots an' got me some scraps from the sewin' room and I made me some quilt tops. Some of 'em was real pretty too! (Pride of workmanship evidenced by a toss of Betty's hand.)

7. "All our spinnin' wheels and flax wheels and looms was handmade by a wheel wright, Marse Noah Westmoreland. He lived over yonder. (A thumb indicates north.) Those old wheels are still in the family'. I got

one of the flax wheels. Miss Ella done give it to me as a present. Leather was tanned an' shoes was made on the place. 'Course the hands mostly went barefoot in warm weather, white chillen too. We had our own mill to grind the wheat an' corn an' we raised all our meat. We made our own candles from tallow and beeswax. I 'spect some of the old candle moulds are over to 'the house' now. We wove our own candlewicks too. I never saw a match 'till I was a grown woman. We made our fire with flint an' punk (rotten wood). Yes'm, I was trained to cook an' clean an' sew. I learned to make mans' pants an' coats. First coat I made, Miss Julia told me to rip the collar off, an' by the time I picked out all the teensy stitches an' sewed it together again I could set a collar right! I can do it today, too! (Again there is manifested a good workman's pardonable pride of achievement)

8. "Miss Julia cut out all the clothes for men and women too. I 'spect her big shears an' patterns an' old cuttin' table are over at the house now. Miss Julia cut out all the clothes an' then the colored girls sewed 'em up but she looked 'em all over and they better be sewed right! Miss Julia bossed the whole plantation. She looked after the sick folks and sent the doctor (Dr. Jones) to dose 'em and she carried the keys to the store-rooms and pantries. Yes'm, I'm some educated. Muh showed me my 'a-b-abs and my numbers and when I was fifteen I went to school in the log church built by the Moravians. They give it to the colored folks to use for their own school and church. (This log house is still standing near Bethania). Our teacher was a white man, Marse Fulk. He had one eye, done lost the other in the war. We didn't have no colored teachers then. They wasn't educated. We 'tended school four months a year. I went through the fifth reader, the 'North Carolina Reader'. I can figure a little an' read some but I can't write much 'cause my fingers 're all stiffened up. Miss Julia use to read the bible to us an' tell us right an' wrong, and Muh showed me all she could an' so did the other colored folks. Mostly they was kind to each other.

9. "No'm, I don't know much about spells and charms. 'Course most of the old folks believed in 'em. One colored man used to make charms, little bags filled with queer things. He called 'em 'jacks' an' sold 'em to the colored folks an' some white folks too.