of money an' I wasn't 'fraid no mo.

After de war I still work' as a maid for Mr. Mitchell.

My husband was Dan'l Frost. We didn't have no weddin', jus' married at
de jedge office. We had three chillun.

I joined the church 'cause I wanted to be a christian an' I think every
body should be. I move here wid my gran' daughter, bout ten year ago.

Reference: Interview with (Mrs) Adele Frost who is supported by her
Master's people.

Project #-1655
Martha S. Pinckney
Charleston, S.C.

FOLKLORE

AMOS GADSDEN

"My name is Amos Gadsden, not Gadson, like some call it--the same old
name Gadsden"--he added, with a friendly smile.

"I was born at St. Philip's Street; that is where old Miss lived then.
(We belonged to old Mr. Titus Bissell) I don't rightly know what year,
but I was nineteen years old before the War, when the family Bible was
lost; old Mistress had my birth written in the Bible. I keep my age by
Mas. Henry, he died three years ago; he was 83, and I was five years
older than he was, so I am 88. Oh, yes, I can remember slavery! My
grandmother was a 'daily gift' to old Mistress when they were both
children. Grandmother was nurse to the children; she lived over a
hundred years and nursed all the children and grandchildren. She died at
the Bissell's home on Rutledge Avenue years and years after slavery.
Mother Ellen was laundress; she died first part of the War. My father
tended the yard and was coachman.

"I never got a slap from my mistress; I was treated like a white person;
if my mistress talked to me to correct me, I want to cry. Sometime I
slept at the foot of my mistress bed." Whatever the occasion, Amos was
very proud of it, and mentioned it a second time in his story, and
added--"it ain't every little boy that could say that.

"We spent the summers in Charleston--winters on the plantation; Cypress
Plantation which belonged to Mr. Bissell's father, Mr. Baker, was near
Green Pond. The smoke house was there full of meat; the fields and the
gardens were there and everybody had plenty to eat--but still there was
bad people just like they are now. You can make yourself respectable,
but some never do it. The bad ones had to be punished; they got a few
lashes on 'um. Now they go to Court, and they go to jail--If there was a
place to whip bad coons, they would be scared to behave like they do
now--the jails wouldn't be so full. There was no bad treatment of our
people. Some neighbors t