Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves | Page 4

for seats. Dere warn't no floor in
it, but jus' dirt floor. Dat wuz one gran' kitchen an' us wuz mighty
proud of it. [HW: p.4]
"My w'ite folkses begged me not to leave 'em, when I told 'em I wuz
gwine to marry Joe Telfair. I'd done been wukkin' for 'em nigh on to six

years, an' wuz mos' twenty years old. Dey gimme my weddin' clo'es,
an' when I seed dem clo'es I wuz one proud Nigger, 'cause dey wuz jus'
lak I wanted. De nightgown wuz made out of white bleachin' an' had
lots of tucks an' ruffles an' it even had puff sleeves. Sho' 'nough it did!
De petticoat had ruffles an' puffs plum up to de wais' ban'. Dere wuz a
cosset kiver dat wuz cut to fit an' all fancy wid tucks an' trimmin', an'
de drawers, dey sho' wuz pretty, jus' full of ruffles an' tucks 'roun' de
legs. My dress wuz a cream buntin', lak what dey calls serge dese days.
It had a pretty lace front what my ma bought from one of de Moss
ladies. When I got all dressed up I wuz one mo' gran' lookin' bride.
"Us got married in de new kitchen an' it wuz plum full, 'cause ma had
done axed 76 folkses to de weddin'. Some of 'em wuz Joe's folkses, an'
us had eight waiters: four gals, an' four boys. De same Preacher Brown
what baptized me, married us an' den us had a big supper. My Missus,
Lula Weir, had done baked a great big pretty cake for me an' it tasted
jus' as good as it looked. Atter us et all us could, one of de waiters
called de sets for us to dance de res' of de night. An' sich dancin' as us
did have! Folkses don't know how to dance dat good no mo'. Dat wuz
sho' nuff happy dancin'. Yes Ma'am, I ain't nebber gonna forgit what a
gran' weddin' us had.
"Next day us moved right here an' I done been here ever since. Dis
place b'longed to Joe's gran'ma, an' she willed it to him. Us had 15
chillun, but ain't but five of 'em livin' now, an' Joe he's been daid for
years. Us always made a good livin' on de farm, an' still raises mos' of
what us needs, but I done got so po'ly I can't wuk no more.
"I'se still tryin' to live right an' walk de narrow way, so as I kin go to
Heb'en when I dies. I'se gwine to pray for you an' ax de Lawd to bless
you, for you has been so good an' patient wid me, an' I'se sho' thankful
my son sont you to see me. You done helped me to feel lots better.
Good-bye, an' God bless you, an' please Ma'am, come back to see me
again."

PLANTATION LIFE

CORDELIA THOMAS, Age 80 130 Berry Street Athens, Ga.
Written by: Grace McCune [HW: (white)] Athens
Edited by: Sarah H. Hall Athens
Leila Harris Augusta
and John N. Booth District Supervisor Federal Writers' Project
Residencies 6 & 7
A long, hot walk over rough, hilly roads brought the visitor to
Cordelia's place just after the noon hour of a sweltering July day, and
the shade of the tall water oaks near the little cabin was a most
welcome sight. The house stood only a few feet from a spur of railroad
track but the small yard was enclosed by a luxurious green hedge.
Roses predominated among the many varieties of flowers in evidence
on the otherwise drab premises.
A dilapidated porch across the front of the residence had no roof and
the floorboards were so badly rotted that it did not seem quite safe to
walk from the steps to the front door where Cordelia stood waiting.
"Come right in, Missy," she invited, "but be keerful not to fall through
dat old porch floor." The tall, thin Negress was clad in a faded but
scrupulously clean blue dress, a white apron, and a snowy headcloth
crowned by a shabby black hat. Black brogans completed her costume.
Cordelia led the way to the rear of a narrow hall. "Us will be cooler
back here," she explained. Sunlight poured through gaping holes in the
roof, and the coarse brown wrapping paper pasted on the walls was
splattered and streaked by rain. The open door of Cordelia's bedroom
revealed a wooden bed, a marble-topped bureau, and a washstand of the
Victorian period. A rocker, two straight chairs, a small table, and a
trunk completed the furnishings of the room and left but little space for
its occupant to move about.
"I'se jus' a mite tired," Cordelia stated, "'cause I jus' got back from de
courthouse whar dem welfare 'omans done