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Updated: June 3, 2025
I had to hear it all over again, it being the newest event evidently in Molly's life; and it ended as before with the highly reasonable proposition: 'Me say, missis, what for massa's niggar run away? Snake eat em up, or dey starve to def in a swamp.
"Ol' Massa's money an', Miss, he hain't had much since de War; jus' 'nuff to live comfutable all go in de Cotesville bank crash las' fall an' he doan want ol' Mis' foh to know. I'se de only one o' de niggers whut's left, an' dere's only one ol' turkey gobbler left o' de stock. He's my ol' pet, Miss, mos' like a chile, an' an' " Uncle Noah choked. The girl's eyes were misty velvet.
Said one woman, "I tried hard to serve God forty years ago, but mighty idle; Massa's lash so sharp, 'peared like we poor creturs never rest till we drop in our graves." We visited Ex-Governor Henry A. Wise's plantation of five hundred acres, with fifty cabins in the negro quarters. This was confiscated.
Der massa's name wuz David Bowers. I don't know where dey cum from but dey moved to Bad Creek after slavery days. Der wuz three of us chillun. Charles, de oldest, den Anthony next and den me, de youngest. I wuz workin' for a white man and wuz old enough to drive cows and work in de 'bacco fields, pickin' worms off de leaves. De other brudders worked wid my father on another plantation.
His neck was so crooked dot he couldn't take a pill, So he had to take a pill through his nose. One cold frosty morning old Uncle Ned died, An' de tears ran down massa's cheek like rain, For he knew when Uncle Ned was laid in de groun', He would never see poor Uncle Ned again, In the hands of this artist the song became
He greeted me with the pleasantest of broad smiles. "Jem," said I, "why don't you come to the house Sunday evenings, any more?" "It don't 'pear practical, missie." Jem was given to large- sized words, when he could get hold of them. "Mr. Edwards hinders you?" "Mass' Ed'ards bery smart man, Miss Daisy. He want massa's work done up all jus' so."
I was sorry that I could not remember the words of "Massa's in the Cold, Cold Ground," as the Emperor wanted it; but I could not. I knew the music of "Nelly Bly," but had never known the words, so I tried to improvise some; but it was impossible for me to think of more than two words which rhymed with "Bly," and those were "sly" and "eye."
"Massa's book say I's one hundred and eight, an' dat is eight years for another hundred, ain't it? Dey name me Esther Jane. I was sole at sheriff's sale for debt to Massa Sparks. In de ole war Massa George Washington was a mighty kind man. He boarded wid Massa Sparks four or five weeks. He wore short breeches an' knee-buckles an' a cocked hat I kep' his room clar'd up."
We know, to be sure, that Stephen Foster, the author of "The Old Folks at Home," "Massa's in the Cold, Cold Ground," and other famous ballads, was a Northerner, though his mother came from the South. We hear, too, that he studied negro music eagerly.
"Why, how so?" said Guly, in surprise, "I had heard nothing of it." "Well, please not to say nothin' 'bout it, massa; 'twouldn't do no good, an' I don't want it talked of. Ole Massa's plantation's a good way up de river, an' he sends all his bad niggers dar. Mebbe I won't see you 'gin, Massa Gulian, so good bye."
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