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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Am dis yar de horspital fer de small-pox diseases? Dey dun tol' me ter foller de road; but fo' Gawd, all de's yar roads look erlike ter me in dis yer place. Nevah seed sich er lonsom ol' hole in all ma' bo'n days. Reckon dars any hants in dat air ol' shack?" "No, this cabin is all right," shouted one of the men; "but you stay where you are till we get away."
He led me into a little bedroom, and placing the candle on a polished dresser, he regarded me with sympathy. "So you're Miss Lizbeth's boy," said he. "An' she dade. An' Marse Alec rough an' hard es though he been bo'n in de woods. Honey, ol' Breed'll tek care ob you. I'll git you one o' dem night rails Marse Nick has, and some ob his'n close in de mawnin'."
We had fo'teen chilluns with only two livin'. I has five gran' sons an' two great gran' daughters." "Goodbye cum back agin." Miriam Logan, Lebanon, Ohio Warren County, Dist. 2 July 2, 1937 Interview with SAMUEL SUTTON, Ex Slave. Born in Garrett County, Kentucky, in 1854 "Yes'em, I sho were bo'n into slavery. She live to be seventy-nine yeahs an nine months old."
Ole Mose is er fine man tho; jes go in his stoe ter buy sumthin, pat him on his back, and tell him he is er bo'n genterman, an thet you b'lieve he kin trace his geneology back ter Moses an ther prophets, and thet his great-granddaddy's daddy was ther only Jew thet sined ther Dicleration of Independance; thet he looks like Napolyan, and he'll jes go inter his office an fetch yer ther fines' segyar yer ever smoked an foller yer all over ther stoe.
He branched off into a little path which ran like a white thread across the field, grumbling querulously to the black-and-tan foxhound that ambled at his heels. "Dar's a wallopin' ahaid er you, sho's you bo'n," he muttered, as he limped on toward a small log hut from which floated an inviting fragrance of bacon frying in fat.
"Dey wuz bofe un um layin' right side by side, des like dey 'uz bo'n blood kin, en I done dus' de cobwebs off'n um wid de same duster, dat I is." "Well, well, that will do. Now go in to supper, children, and send Docia to take my tray. Dear me, I do wish that Tucker could be persuaded to give up that vulgar bacon.
"Let me go, I say I don't want your blamed chickens; take 'em home again." "Hi! marster, I'se Mehitable. You ain't fergot how peart I use ter wuk w'en you wuz over me in ole marster's day. You know you ain' fergot Mehitable, suh. Ain't you recollect de time ole marster gimme a dollar wid his own han' caze I foun' de biggest wum in de hull 'baccy patch? Lawd! dey wuz times, sho's you bo'n.
He led me into a little bedroom, and placing the candle on a polished dresser, he regarded me with sympathy. "So you're Miss Lizbeth's boy," said he. "An' she dade. An' Marse Alec rough an' hard es though he been bo'n in de woods. Honey, ol' Breed'll tek care ob you. I'll git you one o' dem night rails Marse Nick has, and some ob his'n close in de mawnin'."
The major braced himself, and continued: "Kent, gentlemen, as many of you know, lived with his maiden sister over on Tinker Neck, on the same piece of ground where he was bo'n. She had a life interest in the house and property, and it was so nominated in the bond.
"Ah was bo'n in Garrett County, but were raised by ol' Marster Ballinger in Knox County, an' ah don remember nothin 'bout Garrett County." When Lincoln was elected last time, I were about eight yeahs ol'." "Ol' Marster own 'bout 400-acres, n' ah don' know how many slaves maybe 30.
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