e a
shoe. Slaves wore wooden bottom shoes.

"My white folks went to New Hope Church. Deir chillun was mighty good to
us all. Dere was Miss Martha, her marry Doctor Madden, right here at
Winnsboro. Miss Mary marry Marster John Vinson, a little polite smilin'
man, nice man, though. Then Miss Jane marry Marster John Young. He
passed out, leavin' two lovely chillun, Kitty and Maggie. Both of them
marry Caldwells. Dere was Marster Calvin, he marry Congressman Wallace's
daughter, Ellen. Then dere was Marster Jim and Marster William, de last
went to Florida.

"It was a big place, I tell you, and heaps and heaps of slaves. Some
times they git too many and sell them off. My old mistress cry 'bout dat
but tears didn't count wid old marster, as long as de money come a
runnin' in and de rations stayed in de smoke house.

"Us had a fine carriage. Sam was de driver. Us go to Concord one Sunday
and new Hope de next. Had quality fair neighbors. Dere was de
Cockerells, 'Piscopalians, dat 'tend St. John in Winnsboro, de Adgers,
big buckra, went to Zion in Winnsboro. Marster Burr Cockerell was de
sheriff. 'Members he had to hang a man once, right in de open jailyard.
Then dere was a poor buckra family name Marshall. Our white folks was
good to them, 'cause they say his pappy was close kin to de biggest
Jedge of our country, John Marshall.

"When de slaves got bad off sick, marster send for Dr. Walter Brice, his
kin folks. Some times he might send for Dr. Madden, him's son-in-law, as
how he was.

"When de Yankees come, all de young marsters was off in de 'Federate
side. I see them now, gallopin' to de house, canteen boxes on their hips
and de bayonets rattlin' by deir sides. De fust thing they ask, was:
'You got any wine?' They search de house; make us sing: 'Good Old Time
'Ligion'; put us to runnin' after de chickens and a cookin'. When they
leave they burnt de gin house and everything in dere. They burn de
smoke-house and wind up wid burnin' de big house.

"You through wid me now, boss? I sho' is glad of dat. Help all you kin
to git me dat pension befo' I die and de Lord will bless you, honey. De
Lord not gwine to hold His hand any longer 'ginst us. Us cleared de
forests, built de railroads, cleaned up de swamps, and nursed de white
folks. Now in our old ages, I hopes they lets de old slaves like me see
de shine of some of dat money I hears so much talk 'bout. They say it's
free as de gift of grace from de hand of de Lord. Good mo