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Updated: June 9, 2025
Eve'rbody had a jolly time, preachin', shoutin' en eatin' good things." "We didn't git a thing w'en we wuz freed. W'en dey said we wuz free mah people had ter look out fer demselves." "Don' member now 'bout K.K.K. er 'structshun days. Mah mammy useter tell us a lot ob stories but I'se fergot dem. I'se neber voted en dunno ob any frens bein' in office."
Neber 'gin 'll dere be as good times as we useter hab. In mah time we neber y'ard ob wukouses er pen but now dey ez all filled." "I kin see now in mah mind de ole ice house on de plantation. In de wint'r de slaves would fill hit wid ice dey got off de crik en hit wuz not used 'til warm wedder cum.
I'm de mammy ob 14 chilluns, seven boys en seven gals. I wuz next ter de olest ob four chillun. Mah missis useter hire me out ter hotels en taverns. Sum marsters fed dare slaves meat en sum wouldin' let dem hab a bite. One marster we useter 'yer 'bout would grease his slaves mouth on Sunday mawnin', en tell dem ef any body axed ef dey had meat ter say "yes, lots ob hit".
It seemed no longer their own. "Ef I was you, Miss Christie, I'd keep close to the house for a day or two, until until things is settled," said Dick; "there's a heap o' tramps and sich cattle trapsin' round. P'raps you wouldn't feel so lonesome if you was nearer town for instance, 'bout wher' you useter live."
It works like butter now," and the boy sent the handles spinning round with a jerk to illustrate his meaning. "Why did they call yer Isley for?" queried Bob, as they resumed their seats. "It ain't yer real name, is it?" "No, my name's Harry. A digger useter say I was a isle in the ocean to father 'n mother, 'n then I was nicknamed Isle, 'n then Isley." "You hed a why brother once, didn't yer?"
Some of these stories are quaintly humorous; others wildly extravagant, revealing the Oriental cast of the negro's imagination; while others, poured freely into the sympathetic ear of a Northern-bred woman, disclose many a tragic incident of the darker side of slavery. "Sandy," said Julius, in reply to my wife's question, "was a nigger w'at useter b'long ter ole Mars Marrabo McSwayne.
Peering at her critically, and shading her eyes with her hand from the uncertain flicker of the tallow dip, she broke out, passionately: "Wa'al, 'Genie, who would ever hev thought ez yer cake would be all dough? Sech a laffin', plump, spry gal ez ye useter be fur all the wort' like a fresky young deer! An' sech a pack o' men ez ye hed the choice amongst!
She useter slip 'roun' at night, en set on de kitchen steps, en lean up agin de do'-jamb, en run on ter herse'f wid some kine er foolishness w'at nobody could n' make out; fer Mars Marrabo had th'eaten' ter sen' her off'n de plantation ef she say anything ter any er de yuther niggers 'bout de pine-tree.
Fus' Sis' Becky did n' notice 'im much, but dis mawkin'-bird kep' stayin' roun' de house all day, en bimeby Sis' Becky des 'magine' dat mawkin'-bird wuz her little Mose crowin' en crowin', des lack he useter do w'en his mammy would come home at night fum de cotton-fiel'. De mawkin'-bird stayed roun' dere 'mos' all day, en w'en Sis' Becky went out in de ya'd one time, dis yer mawkin'-bird lit on her shoulder en peck' at de piece er bread she wuz eatin', en fluttered his wings so dey rub' up agin de side er her head.
"Useter pass our house on the road," returned the girl, dropping into her monotonous recital, "and useter signal." "Ah, signal?" repeated the Colonel, approvingly. "Yes! He'd say 'Kerrow, and I'd say 'Kerree. Suthing like a bird, you know." Indeed, as she lifted her voice in imitation of the call the Colonel thought it certainly very sweet and birdlike. At least as she gave it.
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