e now. De nigger do mos' de hard wurk on de
farms now, and de white folks still git de money dat de nigger's labor
makes.

LE

STATE EDITORIAL IDENTIFICATION FORM [320002]

STATE: North Carolina
RECEIVED FROM: (State office) Asheville
MS: Interview with W. L. Bost, Ex-Slave.
WORDS: 2,000
DATE: Sept. 27, 1937

Interview with W. L. Bost, Ex-slave [HW: 88 years]
63 Curve Street,
Asheville, N. C.

By--Marjorie Jones

My Massa's name was Jonas Bost. He had a hotel in Newton, North
Carolina. My mother and grandmother both belonged to the Bost family. My
ole Massa had two large plantations one about three miles from Newton
and another four miles away. It took a lot of niggers to keep the work a
goin' on them both. The women folks had to work in the hotel and in the
big house in town. Ole Missus she was a good woman. She never allowed
the Massa to buy or sell any slaves. There never was an overseer on the
whole plantation. The oldest colored man always looked after the
niggers. We niggers lived better than the niggers on the other
plantations.

Lord child, I remember when I was a little boy, 'bout ten years, the
speculators come through Newton with droves of slaves. They always stay
at our place. The poor critters nearly froze to death. They always come
'long on the last of December so that the niggers would be ready for
sale on the first day of January. Many the time I see four or five of
them chained together. They never had enough clothes on to keep a cat
warm. The women never wore anything but a thin dress and a petticoat and
one underwear. I've seen the ice balls hangin' on to the bottom of their
dresses as they ran along, jes like sheep in a pasture 'fore they are
sheared. They never wore any shoes. Jes run along on the ground, all
spewed up with ice. The speculators always rode on horses and drove the
pore niggers. When they get cold, they make 'em run 'til they are warm
again.

The speculators stayed in the hotel and put the niggers in the quarters
jes like droves of hogs. All through the night I could hear them
mournin' and prayin'. I didn't know the Lord would let people live who
were so cruel. The gates were always locked and they was a guard on the
outside to shoot anyone who tried to run away. Lord miss, them slaves
look jes like droves of turkeys runnin' along in front of them horses.

I remember when they put 'em on the block to sell 'em. The ones 'tw