Slave Narratives Vol. XIV | Page 8

in de way. In a few minutes I come to myself. I rise right up, walked into dat choir, stand by her side, and wid dis voice of mine, dat always 'tracts 'tention, jined in de hymn and out sung them all. It was easy from dat time on.
"I marry Kate at de close of dat revival. De day after de weddin', what you reckon? Don't know? Well, after gittin' breakfas' she went to de field, poke 'round her neck, basket on her head and picked two hundred pounds of cotton. Dats de kind of woman she is."

Project 1815-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 June 10, 1937 Edited by: Elmer Turnage
STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES
"I was born in Newberry County, S. C., near Belfast, about 1854. I was a slave of John Wallace. I was the only child, and when a small child, my mother was sold to Joe Liggins by my old master, Bob Adams. It is said that the old brick house where the Wallaces lived was built by a Eichleberger, but Dr. John Simpson lived there and sold it to Mr. Wallace. In the attic was an old skeleton which the children thought bewitched the house. None of them would go upstairs by themselves. I suppose old Dr. Simpson left it there. Sometimes later, it was taken out and buried. Marse Wallace had many slaves and kept them working, but he was not a strict master.
"I married Allen Andrews after the war. He went to the war with his master. He was at Columbia with the Confederate troops when Sherman burnt the place. Some of them, my husband included, was captured and taken to Richmond Va. They escaped and walked back home, but all but five or six fell out or died.
"My young master, Editor Bill Wallace, a son of Marse John, was a soldier. When he was sick at home, I fanned the flies from him with a home-made fan of peacock feathers, sewed to a long cane.
"After the war, the 'bush-whackers', called Ku Klux, rode there. Preacher Pitts' brother was one. They went to negro houses and killed the people. They wore caps over the head and eyes, but no long white gowns. An old muster ground was above there about three miles, near what is now Wadsworth school."
Source: Frances Andrews (col. 83), Newberry, S. C Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, Newberry, S. C.

Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 Sept. 22, 1937 Edited by: Elmer Turnage
STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES
"I live in a comfortable two-room cottage which my son owns. I can't do much work except a little washing and ironing. My grandchildren live with me. My other children help me a little when I need it. I heard about the 40 acres of land and a mule the ex-slaves would get after the war, but I didn't pay any attention to it. They never got anything. I think this was put out by the Yankees who didn't care about much 'cept getting money for themselves.
"I come from the Indian Creek section of Newberry County. After about 1880 when things got natural, some of the slaves from this section rented small one-horse farms and made their own money and living. Some would rent small tracts of land on shares, giving the landlord one-half the crop for use of the land.
"Everything is changed so much. I never learned to read and write and all I know is what I heard in old times. But I think the younger generation of negroes is different from what they used to be. They go where they want to and do what they want to and don't pay much attention to old folks anymore.
"My mother's mother come from Virginia and my mother's father was born and raised in this county. I don't remember anything about the Nat Turner Rebellion, and never heard anything about it. We never had any slave up-risings in our neighborhood."
Source: Frances Andrews (83), Newberry, S. C. Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. 8/11/37.

Spartanburg, S. C. District No. 4 May 27, 1937. Edited by R. V. Williams [~HW: Lambrigh~]
Folk Lore: Folk Tales (negro)
"I was 'bout nine year ole when de big war broke loose. My pa and ma 'longed to de Scotts what libbed in Jonesville Township. When I got big 'nough to work, I was gib to de youngest Scott boy. Soon atter dis, Sherman come through Union County. No ma'm, I nebber seed Sherman but I seed some of his soldiers. Dat's de time I run off in de wood and not narry a soul knowed whar I was till de dus' had done settled in de big road.
"Every Sunday, Marse Scott sent us to church in one of his waggins. White folks rid to church in de buggy and Marse went on de big saddle hoss. 'Bout dis time,