Part 13

"In them days of parades by day and torch light processions by night, when de niggers was asked to jine, offered a hoss to ride, knowed dere would be a drink of red-eye on de way, and then was handed one of them red shirts. What you 'spect dat nigger to do? I knowed. He's gwine to put on dat red shirt, dat red-eye gwine give him over to de democrats, and dis was de way dat Hampton was 'lected. But it never would have done to have a black shirt, no sir; I's sure of dat. Dat would have had no 'peal to our color. They is too black already to suit de most of them.

"When Hampton was 'lected I git an idea of settlin' down. I picks de plumpest woman I could find and her had a name dat seem music then to me. It was Roxanna. She allow I was a handsome man, and I was fool enough then to believe her. But one day she brung home a ten-cent lookin' glass from Winnsboro. I say to her when I takes a look in it, 'Who dis I see in here?' She says 'Dat's you, honey.' I say: 'No, Roxie, it can't be me. Looks like one of them apes or monkeys I see in John Robinson's circus parade last November.' Dere's been a disapp'intment 'bout my looks ever since, and when my wife die I never marry again.

"All our boys are dead 'cept Laurens. He live in Charlotte, and I got a sister dat marry Ike Austin and live on de Aiken place. I piddles along wid de white folks and live in a little house by myself, waitin' for God to call me home."

Abbey Mishow

*Interview with Abbey Mishow* *9 Rose Lane, Charleston, S.C.* --_Jessie A. Butler, Charleston, S.C._

Among the few ex-slaves still living, irrespective of their age at the close of the War Between the States, the line is still very closely drawn between house servants and their children, and the field hands. Old white-haired Abbey Mishow has "misplaced de paper" telling her age but though she claims to have been very small when the war broke out she still maintains the dignity of a descendant of a house servant, nor will she permit her listeners to forget this fact for an instant.

When the writer called on her, unexpectedly, for an interview, she found Abbey, her house, and grandchildren very clean and neat. There was none of the musty, stale odor about the place common to Negro dwellings.

"I don't remember much 'bout de plantation," said Abbey, "'cept dat dey called it Waterford, and dey planted rice. You see I been jest uh leetle gal; I can't lie and say I remember. I been jest 'bout so high." She indicated about the size of a five or six year old child. "I ain't had no reason for study 'bout um and 'press it on my mind. My mudder died w'en I was almost uh baby; she was de tailor and seamstress for our people. De missus promise my ma to tek care of me, and she sho' did. I was raise just like a pet. De fust crack out of me dat window sash gwine to heist to find out what ail me. I hardly miss my ma, no mudder couldn't treat me better dan I treat.

"We been b'long to Miss (Mrs.) Reese Ford, what live at Waterford plantation, on the Black River," (Georgetown County) Abbey stated. As she mentioned the name of the old "missus," and enumerated the names of her erstwhile owners, Miss Sarah, Miss Clara, Miss Henney, Mr. Willie and Mr. Reesey, Abbey's old, wrinkled, black face softened with memories and her voice became gentle as she told of the care and kindness she had received.

"I don't know nothing 'bout de war", she continued. "I was purtected, and tek to de city. I didn't hab nothing to bodder my mind and mek me remember dose days. Mr. Willie lose he arm in de war. I is see de soldiers but I been tek care of. I been spoiled and didn't hab no interest in worryment.

"I don't know nothing about de street on de plantation, and what dey do dere, 'cause I ain't had no 'casion for go dere. I raise in de yard, I didn't wear de kind ob clothes de field-hand chillen wear, and I get my dinner from de kitchen. I don't know nothing 'bout crops 'cause we summered." (The family spent the summers at Plantersville, a resort frequented by the planters of the day) "You see I been leetle, dey didn't 'low me out de yard, I jest tek notes 'round sometimes. I tell you I bin spoiled, I raise onderneat' Miss Clara dem (and them). I nebber had no idea t'ings would ebber be like dis. I ain't got no man, and no boy, nor no kinnery to help me, nor to do nothing for me, only one weak daughter and she ain't much good. All de nation dead, t'ain't nobody left but me.

"Is I ebber see a ghost? No ma'am, I is hear 'bout dem but I nebber see um. I ain't had 'casion to go out in de night time. I hear Plat-Eye dere but only dem what has to trabble round see um. I believe in my Jesus, yes ma'am, if it ain't been for Him how I lib?"

Sam Mitchell

*Interview with Sam Mitchell, age 87* --_Mrs. Chlotilde R. Martin, Beaufort County_

"W'en war come, I been minding cow for my master. My father been Moses Mitchell and my mother been Tyra Mitchell. We belong to John Chaplin and lib on Woodlawn plantation on Ladies Island. Mr. Chaplin had seven plantation. He lib at Brickyaa'd plantation in winter and in Beaufort in summer. He hab many slave, but I don't know how many. As near as I can remember, dey been fifteen slave on Woodlawn plantation.

"De slave lib on de Street, each cabin had two room. De Master don't gib you nutting for yo' house--you hab to git dat de best way you can. In our house was bed, table and bench to sit on. My father mek dem. My mother had fourteen chillen--us sleep on floor.

"Eb'ry Chuesday, de Master gib each slave a peck ob corn. W'en potato dug, we git potato. Two time in de year we git six yaa'd ob cloth, calico in spring and homespun in de winter. Once a year we git shoe. De slave had 'bout two task ob land to cultivate for se'f in w'at call Nigger field. Could raise one pig.

"All my mother chillen dead 'cept me and one sister Rhina, who lib wid me. She 80 year old.

"My father hab a boat and he gone fishing at night and sell fish. Master let him cut post and wood at night and sell, too. He had to do dis work at night 'cause in daytime he have to do his task. He was carpenter, but w'en dey was no carpentry work to do on de plantation, he plow. My mudder hoe. Little boy and old man mind cow. Little girl and old 'ooman mind baby.

"On Woodlawn dey was no overseer. We had nigger driver. Maussa didn't 'low mucher whipping, but slave had to do task. If didn't, den he git whipping. Driver do whipping, but if he whip too sewerely, Maussa would sometime tek field hand and mek him driver and put driver in field.

"If a slave was sick, Maussa would come and see w'at was de matter. Sometimes he would give de slave jollip to mek him womit (vomit), sometimes if he had fever, he would gib him hippo. If he was sick, the Master would tek him to Beaufort to de doctor. If a 'ooman slave sick, Big Missis would go and see dem.

"Slave had only one holiday in de year. Dat Christmas day. Maussa would kill a cow on every plantation on Christmas and gib all de slave some.

"On Maussa John Chaplin plantation slave have to tell him soon as dey begin to co't. If Maussa say 'No, you can't marry dat gal', den dat settle it, you can't marry um. He don't lak his slave to marry slave on nodder puson plantation, but if you do den you hab pass to wisit yo' wife. W'en slave marry, w'ite preacher marry um in de Maussa house, but Maussa don't gib you anyt'ing.

"Slave had dey own chu'ch on plantation wid nigger preacher, but on 'munion Sunday, you had to go to w'ite folks chu'ch in Beaufort and sit up stair.

"Dey wasn't no jailhouse on de plantation, but dey was a barn w'ere sometimes Maussa put slave w'en dey been bad. I never saw any slaves sold, but I hear tell of de banjo table.

"W'en slave die, Maussa let me berry um in de daytime, 'do some Maussa mek dem wait 'till night time. Nigger preacher preach funeral.

"I staa't for mind cow w'en I been nine year old. W'en I been twelve, I have for staa't wuk in field or cutting maash (marsh) or splitting rail. Slave chillen play mud-pie, mek house out ob sand and secher t'ing.

"Slave on Maussa plantation could come to Beaufort on Sattidy night, but dey have to be back by 9 o'clock or patrol would get um.

"Maussa had nine chillen, six boy been in Rebel army. Dat Wednesday in November w'en gun fust shoot to Bay Pint (Point) I t'ought it been t'under rolling, but dey ain't no cloud. My mother say, 'son, dat ain't no t'under, dat Yankee come to gib you Freedom.' I been so glad, I jump up and down and run. My father been splitting rail and Maussa come from Beaufort in de carriage and tear by him yelling for de driver. He told de driver to git his eight-oar boat name Tarrify and carry him to Charleston. My father he run to his house and tell my mother w'at Maussa say. My mother say, 'You ain't gonna row no boat to Charleston, you go out dat back door and keep a-going. So my father he did so and w'en dey git 'nuf nigger to row boat and Maussa and his family go right away to Charleston.

"After Freedom come everybody do as he please. De Yankee open school for nigger and teacher lib in Maussa house to Brickyaa'd. My father git job as carpenter wid Yankee and buy ten acre ob land on Ladies Island.

"I been married two time. My last wife, Florence, living right here in Beaufort, but she left me long time ago. I hab two chillen, one daughter live to Philadelphy and de odder lib on Ladies Island. I got four grand-chillen, all ob dem grown.

"Did I ebber hear ob Abraham Lincoln? I got his history right here in my house. He was de president of de United States that freed four million slave. He come to Beaufort befo' de war and et dinner to Col. Paul Hamilton house at de Oaks. He left his gold-headed walking cane dere and ain't nobody know de president of de United States been to Beaufort 'till he write back and tell um to look behind de door and send um his gold-headed walking cane.

"Jefferson Davis? He been de Democrack president.

"Booker T. Washington? He wasn't no president, but he was a great man. I hear him speak once in de cemetery in Beaufort.

"What do I t'ink ob slavery? I t'ink slavery is jest a murdering of de people. I t'ink Freedom been a great gift. I lak my Maussa and I guess he was as good to his slave as he could be, but I ruther (rather) be free."

Charity Moore

*Interview with Charity Moore, 75 years* --_W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C._

One quarter of a mile north of Woodward station and one hundred yards east of US #21, is the beautiful residence of Mr. T.W. Brice. In the back yard is a two-room frame house. In this house lives Charity Moore and another aged Negro woman, said to be an octogenarian. They occupy the house together and exist on the goodness and charity of Mr. Brice. Charity was born a slave of Mr. Brice's father and has lived all her days in his immediate family.

"Don't you 'member my pa, Isaiah Moore? Course you does! He was de Uncle Remus of all de white chillun 'round dese parts. He sho' was! I seen him a settin' wid you, Marse Johnnie, Marse Boyce, and Dickie Brice, in de back yard many a time. You all was askin' him questions 'bout de tale he was a tellin' and him shakin' his sides a laughin'. He telled all them tales 'bout de fox and de rabbit, de squirrel, brer tarrapin, and sich lak, long befo' they come out in a book. He sho' did!

"My ma name Nancy, dat was pa's wedded wife. Dere was no bigamous nor concubine business goin' on wid us. My brothers was Dave, Solomon, Fortune, Charlie, and Brice. My sisters was Haley, Fannie, Sarah, Frances, Mary, and Margaret. Hold your writin' dere a minute. Dere was thirteen. O yes, I left out Teeta. Dat rounds them up, a baker's dozen, Marse Thomas use to 'low.

"White folks, my pa had Bible tales he never told de white chillun. Did you know dat my pa know de catechism from cover to cover, and from de back end to de startin' end? Concord Church gived him a Bible for answering every question in the catechism. Here 'tis. (Producing catechism published and dated 1840). My pa maybe never telled you any Bible tales he told de colored chillun. He 'low dat de fust man, Adam, was a black man. Eve was ginger cake color, wid long black hair down to her ankles. Dat Adam had just one worriment in de garden and dat was his kinky hair. Eve hate to see him sad, 'cause her love her husband as all wives ought to do, if they don't.

"Well, Adam play wid Eve's hair; run his fingers through it and sigh. Eve couldn't do dat wid his kinky hair. De debbil set up in de plum bushes and took notice of de trouble goin' on. Every day Eve's hair growed longer and longer. Adam git sadder and sadder. De debbil in de plum bushes git gladder and gladder. Dere come a day dat Adam 'scused hisself from promenadin' in 'mong de flower beds wid his arms 'round Eve, a holding up her hair. De debbil took de shape of a serpent, glided after Eve, and stole up and twisted hisself up into dat hair far enough to whisper in one of them pretty ears: 'Somebody's got something for to tell you, dat will make Adam glad and like hisself agin! Keep your ears open all day long.' Then de serpent distangled hisself, drapped to de ground, and skeedaddled to de red apple tree, close by de fountain. He knowed dat Eve was gwine dere to bathe. He beat her dere, 'cause she was walkin' sorta slow, grievin' 'bout Adam and thinkin' 'bout how to cheer him up. When she got dere, de old debbil done changed from a snake to a angel of light, a male angel, I reckon. He took off his silk beaver hat, flourished his gold headed cane, and 'low: 'Good mornin'! Lovely day! What a beautiful apple, just in your reach too, ahem'! Eve say: 'I's not been introduced,' 'Well', said de debbil, 'My subjects call me Prince, 'cause I's de Prince of light. My given name is Lucifer. I's at your service, dear lady.' Eve 'flected: 'A prince, he'll be a king some day.' Then de debbil say: 'Of course, one of your beauty will one day be a queen. I seen a sadness on your lovely face as you come 'long. What might be your worry?' Eve told him and he 'low: 'Just git Adam to eat one bite out dat apple 'bove your head and in a night his hair will grow as long, be as black, and as straight as your'n.' She 'low: 'Us ain't 'lowed to eat of de fruit of de tree in de midst of de garden. Us dare not tech it, lest us die.' Then Satan stepped a distance dis way, then another way and come back and say: 'Gracious lady! Dis tree not in de midst of de garden. De one in de midst is dat crabapple tree over yonder. Of course de good Lord didn't want you to eat crabapples.' De debbil done got her all mixed up. De apple looked so good, she reached up, and quick as you can say 'Jack Robinson,' she bite de apple and run to Adam wid de rest of it and say: 'Husband eat quick and your hair will be as long, as black, and straight as mine, in de mornin'.' While he was eatin' it, and takin' de last swallow of de apple, he was 'minded of de disobedience and choked twice. Ever since then, a man have a 'Adam's Apple' to 'mind him of de sin of disobedience. Twasn't long befo' de Lord come alookin' for them. Adam got so scared his face turned white, right then, and next mornin' he was a white man wid long hair but worse off than when he was a nigger. Dere was more to dat tale but I disremember it now.

"I's livin' wid my young marster, Thomas, now. He took good care of my pa, when he got so old and feeble he couldn't work no more. God'll bless Marse Tommie for all his goodness. When Pa Isaiah come to die, Marse Tommie come every day. One day in leavin', he said in his gruff, kind way: 'Is dere anything I can do for you Uncle Isaiah?' Pa say: 'Take care of Charity.' 'I will,' say Marse Tommie. Then he 'low: 'Ain't dere something else?' 'Yes,' pa 'low, 'I want a white stone over de head of my grave.' 'What must I put on de stone,' asked Marse Tommie? 'Just my name and age,' said pa. 'Oh yes, dere ought to be something else,' says Marse Tommie. Pa shook his head. 'I want something else on it Uncle Isaiah,' said Marse Tommie. Wid a tear and a smile, pa raised his white head and said: 'You can put down, below de name and age, just dis: 'As good as ever fluttered.' And dat stone at Concord Cemetery 'tract more 'tention then any stone and epitaph in dat churchyard. Why, de white folks puts flowers on it sometimes.

"I wonder sometime in de winter nights, as de north wind blows 'bout de cracks in de house, if pa is warm and in Abraham's bosom. But I knows pa; he's 'umble. There's so many white folks in dat bosom he'll just be content to lie in Isaac's bosom or maybe de prophet Isaiah's, for who he was named.

"Wait dere! You have bad luck to leave by dat door. You comed in by dis door and you just leave by de same door. Some folks say nothin' to dat but I don't want you to risk dat. Glad you come. Good bye."

Sena Moore

*Interview with Sena Moore, 83 years old* --_W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C._

Sena Moore lives alone, in a one-room frame house about five miles northeast of Winnsboro, S.C. She does seasonal work, such as hoeing and picking cotton, of which she is still fully capable. She pays $2.00 per month rent, for the house and vegetable garden spot.

"Sumpin' tell me to make haste and come here for to see you. How's you dis mornin'? Mustn't forgit my manners, though I's wantin' to tell you de ifs and hows and de ups and downs of dese many years dat I's been in dis land of sorrow and tribulation.

"I was born in 1854, on de Gladney plantation. Was a pretty smart gal, twelve years old, when de Yankees come through. Marse Riley have a Bible out yonder at Jackson Creek dat show's I's eighty-three years old. His aunty is a sister to my old marster, Jim Gladney. Miss Margaret married a Paul but Miss Nancy and Miss Mary Ann, them two never marry, bless God! De house out dere in Jackson Creek neighborhood.

"My pappy was George Stitt. My mammy was Phillis Gladney. My pappy was a slave of de Stitt family; had to git a pass to come to see mammy. He slipped in and out 'nough of times to have four chillun. Then de Stitts took a notion to sell him to Arkansas. My mammy weep 'bout dat but what could her do? Just nothin'. Old marster 'low: 'Plenty more good fish in de sea, Phillis. Look 'round, set your cap, and maybe you'll 'tract one dat'll give your heart comfort, bye and bye'. My full brudders was Luther Stitt, Bill Stitt, and Levi Stitt. My mammy then take up wid a no 'count nigger name Bill James and had one child, a boy, name Jim. He died long time ago.

"Us live in a log house wid a dirt floor and de cracks stop up wid mud. It had a wooden chimney. De beds was saplin' pole beds. De ticks was wheat straw, though most of de time us chillun sleep on de floor. My marster not a big buckra; he just had a handful of slaves. Us had to fight chinches, fleas, and skeeters (mosquitoes) 'most all night or 'til they fill theyselves wid our blood. Then they take a rest and us git a rest and slept. My grandpappy was one of de free niggers. Him was a Stitt family nigger, a blue-eyed nigger.

"Money? Lord help me, no! As I 'member, us had plenty to eat, sich as peas, beans, greens, lye hominy, and 'lasses but no flour bread.

"My young marster, Sam, was kilt in de war but Marse Tom went off and settle in Arkansas.

"What clothes us have? Just 'nough to hide our secret parts in summer. A shirt for de boys and a slip-over for de gals. They was made out of weave cloth, dat us spin of de cotton dat us picked out of de field. Wid all de drawbacks, us was happy more then than now.

"Us raise our own chickens and sing while us workin'. I never mind white chillun callin' me 'nigger'. Dat was a nickname they call me.

"Us was Presbyterians and b'long to de Jackson Creek Church, Lebanon. Gallery was all 'round de up-stairs. Got a whippin' for goin' to sleep up dere, one Sunday, and snorin'. In them days de preacher was powerful. De folks mighty 'ticular when him come 'round and fill de back of his buggy wid sumpin' of everything on de place, lak ham, chickens, eggs, butter, marmalade, jelly, 'lasses, sugar, vegetables and fruit. Him put in full time on Sunday though, preach 'bout two hours befo' he put on de benediction.

"What 'bout my courtin' days? Well, I had them, too. A Yankee want me to go off wid him but I tell him no! Then when I 'fuse him, him 'suade another gal to love him and leave wid him. Her come back to de place six months later and had a baby by dat scamp man.

"When I was fifteen, I marry Bill Moore. Stood up wid him, dat day, in a blue worsted dress and a red balmoral over a white tuck petticoat, and under dat, a soft pique chemise wid no sleeves. Had on white stockin's and low quarter shoes. I had sweet shrubs all through my hair and it held them all night and de nex' night, too. Sill make a big laugh 'bout it, while nosin' in my hair and smellin' them sweet shrubs.

"Dr. Turner was de doctor dat 'tended de Gladney's and de slaves on de place.

"How us git fire? Us git two flint rocks, hold lint cotton under them, strike a spark, it drop down, set de cotton afire and then us fan it to a blaze.

"Yes sir, I see many good white men, more than I got fingers and toes, but a low down white man can git low downer than a nigger man. A good white lady telled me one time, dat a bad white woman is a sight worser and more low downer than a bad nigger woman can ever git to be in dis world. Now what you gonna day to dat, Mister? Well, if you have dat notion too, us won't argue 'bout it.

"Does I believe de Savior has a remedy for de laks of sich women? Let me think 'bout dat a little bit. De Savior has a cure for things, all things. How come he ain't? Didn't he give a woman de livin' water at de well and make her white as snow? Then he run seven devils out another woman, for just sich sins as us is talkin' 'bout, Mister!

"Ku Klux? Does I 'member them? Dis left knee 'members them! One night de big road full of us niggers was comin' from church. Just as us git to de top of de hill us see, comin' up de hill, a long line of hosses, wid riders dressed in pure white, hoods on deir heads, and painted false faces. They busted into a gallop for us. I was wid my brudders, Luther and Bill; they jump de side gully and got 'way in de woods. I jump but de jump was poor as a cow, I reckon, and dis very leg crumple up. I lay dere in my misery 'til daylight, and my brudder, Luther, come back and carry me home. Dat word 'home' 'minds me I ought to be goin' dere now. De Lord take a lakin' to you, and you to me! May you git to heaven when you die and I git dat pension befo' I die. Amen!"

Silas Nelson

*Interview with Silas Nelson (74)* *R#2 Trenton, S.C., c/o Mr. Walter Marsh* --_Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C._

"Fer 69 years Mis' Marsh done had me a-workin fer her roun the garden en house. Course Mr. Marsh had ter work me in de field wid my boys. Us has two mules, Joe an Delia. Dey stays in our lot. I plows a little but my time is a wearin'. But I gits long 'Oh Key'.

"Mr. George W. Wire tuk and died. I nursed him. I good to them all. I'se different from any other mens. I never eats milk and butter. Ain't tuck no medicine in thirty-five year. When sun set I is at my house every day.

"Lays down only 'bout two hours, dats nother way I is allus curious in de fac' dat at nights I allus has somethin ter do. De boys jes sits and looks at me and dey don't say nary a word, dey jes looks at me.

"Born in slavy, too little to tell much 'bout dat, cep I is different from my chilluns. Dey calls me curious. My pa riz up four boys. Us had four mules and hauled dirt to Graniteville evey day when us stayed together. Three brothers older than me. I is allus been crazy 'bout farmin, helped my paw evey day when I was young with everything.

"When I wuz young no man could turn me down a workin. Now it ain't none that ken turn me down a 'walkin".

Susan Nelson