N COLLINS
EX-SLAVE, 85 YEARS OLD.

John Collins lives in a two-room frame cottage by the side of US 21,
just one mile north of the town of Winnsboro, S. C. on the right side of
the highway and a few hundred yards from the intersection of US 21 and
US 22. The house is owned by Mr. John Ameen. His son, John, who lives
with him, is a farm hand in the employ of Mr. John Ameen, and is his
father's only support.

"They tells me dat I was born in Chester County, just above de line dat
separates Chester and Fairfield Counties. You know where de 'dark
corner' is, don't you? Well, part is in Fairfield County and part is in
Chester County. In dat corner I first see de light of day; 'twas on de
29th of February, 1852. Though I is eighty-five years old, I's had only
twenty-one birthdays. I ketches a heap of folks wid dat riddle. They ask
me: 'How old is you Uncle John?' I say: 'I is had twenty-one birthdays
and won't have another till 1940. Now figure it out yourself, sir, if
you is so curious to know my age!' One time a smart aleck, jack-leg,
Methodist preacher, of my race, come to my house and figured all day on
dat riddle and never did git de correct answer. He scribbled on all de
paper in de house and on de back of de calendar leaves. I sure laughed
at dat preacher. I fears he lacked some of dat good old time 'ligion, de
way he sweated and scribbled and fussed.

"My daddy was name Steve Chandler. My mammy was called Nancy. I don't
know whether they was married or not. My daddy was sent to Virginia,
while de war was gwine on, to build forts and breastworks around
Petersburg, so they say, and him never come back. I 'members him well.
He was a tall black man, over six feet high, wid broad shoulders. My
son, John, look just lak him. Daddy used to play wid mammy just lak she
was a child. He'd ketch her under de armpits and jump her up mighty nigh
to de rafters in de little house us lived in.

"My mammy and me was slaves of old Marse Nick Collins. His wife, my
mistress, was name Miss Nannie. Miss Nannie was just an angel; all de
slaves loved her. But marster was hard to please, and he used de lash
often. De slaves whisper his name in fear and terror to de chillun, when
they want to hush them up. They just say to a crying child: 'Shet up or
old Nick will ketch you!' Dat child sniffle but shet up pretty quick.

"Marster didn't have many slaves. Best I 'member, dere was about twenty
men, women, and chillun to work in de field an