' but he died de
nex' year. Mammy paid him ten cents a mont' a piece fer all us chillun.
De boys would wuk fer dey money but I wuz the onliest gal an' Mammy
wouldn't let me go off de plantation to make none. Whut I made dar I
got, but I didn't make much 'til atter I ma'ied.

"Law honey, does yer want to know 'bout my ma'ige? Well, I wuz 15 years
ole an' I had a preacher to ma'y me. His name wuz Andrew Brown. In dem
days us allus waited 'til de time of year when us had a big meetin' or
at Christmus time. Den effen one of us wanted ter git mai'ed, he would
perform de weddin' atter de meetin' or atter Chris'mus celebratin'. I
had er bluish worsted dress. I mai'ed in Jannywerry, right atter
Chris'mus. At my mai'ge us had barbecue, brunswick stew, an' cake. De
whole yard wuz full uv folks.

"Mammy wuz a 'ligous 'oman an' de fust day of Chris'mus she allus fasted
ha'f a day an' den she would pray. Atter dat evvybody would hav' eggnog
an' barbecue an' cake effen dey had de money to buy it. Mammy said dat
when dey wuz still slaves Marster allus gived 'em Chris'mus, but atter
dey had freedom den dey had ter buy dey own rations. Us would have
banjer playin' an' dance de pijen-wing and de shuffle-toe.

"No mam, George's pa didn' leave him no lan' when he died. Us went ter
another farm an' rented when de mai'ge wuz over. George's pa warn't
dead, but he didn't offer to do nuthin' fer us.

"Yas'um, I'se had eight chilluns of my own. Us ain' never had no lan' us
could call our'n. Us jes moved from one farm ter another all our days.
This here lan' us is on now 'longs ter Mr. Cline. My son an' his chillun
wuks it an' dey give us whut dey kin spare. De Red Cross lady he'ps us
an' us gits along somehow or nother."

Works Progress Administration
Harry L. Hopkins, Administrator
Ellen S. Woodward, Assistant Administrator
Henry S. Alsberg, Director of the Federal Writers' Project

PLANTATION LIFE

Interview with:
SUSAN MATTHEWS, Age 84
Madison Street,
Macon, Georgia

Written by:
Ruth H. Sanford,
Macon, Georgia

Edited by:
Annie A. Rose,
Macon, Georgia

Susan Matthews is an intelligent old negress, very tall and weighing
close to two hundred pounds. Her eyes were bright, her "store-bought"
teeth flashed in a smile as she expressed her willingness to tell us all
she remembered "'bout ole times." In a tattered, faded print dress, a
misshapen hat and ragged shoes, she sat enjoying the sunshine on the
porch while she se