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(Greene County)
Massa William Shepherd, an' Miss Georgiana, his wife, come from Virginia, an' his plantation was in Lowndes county, between Mac's Switch, an' Morgansville. They had two little girls, Nellie an' Maggie-Maggie was the younges' an' her an I was about the same age. I was the only light nigger in the family, an' I was brought up in the house with the chillen. I slep' with 'em, lived with 'em. Twice every week I went to my Mammy's cabin, an took a bath an' I had my own sof' shoes, an' my own night-gown an jacket, an' lived, an slep' an' played with my Massa's chillun.
Every mornin' before breakfas' it was my place to sweep roun' in the yard, an then I cleaned up, an' put on a clean dress, an' played the res' of the day with the chillun, 'ceptin ever' other day I churned. We played hop-scotch, an' ring-a-round'-the-rosy, an' played house, an' lotsa things I can't remember now. I must'a been about seven years old then. I jus' can't tell you much about my brothers and sisters. In dem days every white family what have servants, giv each chile that got mahried a pussonel servant, an' I never saw my oldes' sister, she was give away befo' the family lef' Virginia. I remember sist' Celie, an' sist' Harriet, an' sist' Liza - she help' Aunt Evalina in the kitchen.
One song we sung den, dat always made me cry; it was, "Mammy, is Ol' Massa gwine sell us tomorrow?" "Yes, my chile". "Whah he goin sell us?" "Way down South in Georgia."
Let me see if I can remember how many servants we had. Edie was the laundress; Arrie, she was the weaver; then there was Becky, an' Melia, an' Aunt Mary, an' Ed, an' John, an' Uncle Pete, an' Uncle George - he was the house man an' was mahried to Aunt Evalina, the cook. An' Jake - he was the over-looker (overseer) - he was a great, big, strong, culled man -there was more, but I can't remember - I was jus' a little girl then.
Our big house was white, an' all on one floor. There was the big parlor, an' the guess-room, where the vis 'tors stayed, and the other sleepin' rooms. The front porch was jus' a little porch, but it had columns in front, but the back porch was big an' wide an' reach all across the back of the house. The kitchen an' dinin' room was off from the house a little way, but was joined by a long covered entry, so they could go back an' forth in all kin' of weather.
Flowers? Oh, we had every kin' of flowers. Lotsa magnolia trees. I can jus' see the big white blooms against the slick, shinin' leaves now an' the birds dartin' in an' out, an' we had cape jassamines, an' that purple flower with so sweet a scent - oh, yes, the lilac an' the crepemyrtle, we had both pink an' white. An' roses - jus' roses ever' where. The "Quarters" was about a hundred an' fifty or two hundred yards from the house. We went along a path behin' the house about a hundred yards, an' the turned to the right an' went across to the quarters. The servants houses an' gardens had plank fences, but the big house had a picket fence.
The well at the house, what we used, had a pump; but down in the back, not far from the kitchen was a big well we used for the dairy an' the laundry. There was a trough from this well to the dairy, so we always had plenty of water, an' there was a stove there too, to heat plenty of water for the milk things - vessels and strainers an' cloths. Massa had a lot of cows, an' we churned two big churns of milk every other day. The dairy was big an' cool an' we strained up the milk an' churned an' worked up the butter here, but we kep' it in the spring-house.
There was a spring at the foot of a little hill, with a wide, spreadin' tree shadin' it, an' Massa had a trench dug from the spring, an' walled with rock, an' lined along the bottom with rock, an' pieces of plank was put a cross, a little ways apart, to hold the vessels steady, an' that was where we kep' the milk an' butter cool an' sweet, as with ice.
Down close to the well, not far from the dairy, was the laundry. It had two rooms, an Arrie, lived in one of them. Arrie was the weaver, an' she could weave stripes, as well as plain, an' they was as pretty as anything we could buy.
Louisa cleaned the parlor, and kep' Missis' room nice, an' then she didn't do any thing else but sew, an' sist' Liza helped her with it. After the weavin was done, then come the sewin, an' it took a lot of sewin' for the family. Everybody had two Sunday dresses, or suits, Summer and Winter, an' then cloes for everyday. For the men's suits the wool from our own sheep, an had ducks an' geese, chickens,
turkeys, guineas, no we didn't have pea-fowls. But they had 'em on a plantation not far from us, an' the way they strut, an hold the heads so high, and their tails all spread out like a fan, my they was pretty, an' I can still hear 'em hollerin'.
When they killed the hogs for the winter meat, they took some of the han' out of the fiel' or what ever they was doin' an let them help, an' we had a smoke-house full of hams an' middlins, an' when a rainy spell 'ud come, us chillen 'ud rake up chips an' leaves, an' make a smudge of smoke to keep the meat sweet.
Evalina done the cookin', with sist' Liza to help, but when we had comp'ny Arrie'd help too. You say 'Arrie seem'd in demand?' Yessum, she was. Arrie was fine about everything, an she was so nice, an' helt herself so proud, like she was almos' like the Quality."
Massa Shepherd an' Miss Georgiana was both mighty kin'-hearted, and treated their servants good. I remember once when Miss Georgina lay down to take a nap, an' give me a bresh to min the flies offen her, an I got hot an sleepy an' lay down by her, an' went to sleep too, an when she woke up, an' I was a lyin' there by her, fas' asleep, she called Louisa an' laughed, an say, "Look how she keeps the flies off me".
An' once, when Massa Shepard sent us chillen down to the Station with a note, an' he say, 'Now you go fas' an' get back', but we played along the way, an' picked flowers, an' when we come steppin' back, he say, "I tol' you to hurry", an I helt out the flowers, an say 'We done brought you some flowers an' he pulled off a little keen switch from a bush, an' picked me up, an' switched me all over my bare feet an' legs, an' when he put me down, I say, "I'm goin' tell my mammy on you. She don't 'low nobody to whip me but her" an he throwed back his head, an' jus' laughed, an' said to Miss Georgiana, 'That little devil don't know I'm her Master' an' Miss Georgiana, she say, 'No, I don't 'spose she does."
There wasn't but two things caused Massa Shepherd to whip any of his servants. Every one of the married families had their own house an' garden an' chickens, an' every family had to raise a pig, so that when Christmas come they could kill it, an' have a big time. He always give them plenty of everything, an' on Friday, after dinner, they had to stop work an' wash, an' on Sat. they ironed and cleaned for Sunday. An' on Sunday mornin', Massa had give 'em dishes, an knives an' forks, an' even tablecloths, on Sunday he went aroun' an' eat a mouthful in every house in the quarter. That was to see that every thing was done up right, an if they wasn't they got a whippin' the nex' day. The other reason was if any-body started to the fiel' on Monday mornin' without bein' clean, an' ready to start out the week right, why they got whipped.
No, Massa didn't do the whippin'. He set on his horse an' see it done, but Jake, the Over-looker he done the whippin', but he wasn't allowed to give more than a certain number of licks.
"Yessum, there was places, we heard of it, where they treated their servants bad. The nex plantation to us, Governor Watts, he owned it, they say's he had his servants whipped till the blood run. They had a white man for Over-looker, 'How did we feel about a white man that would hold a place like that?' We called him 'po' white trash'. He was so big an' strong, an he didn't show no mercy to the black people, an' his master didn't care if he didn't. One of his servants stayed at the Station where they shipped off all the things for the soldiers, corn, an' meat, an' sich like that the white folks give out of their own cellars an' barns, an' smoke-houses, for the soldiers. He stayed down at the Station, an' his master wouldn't let him have any shoes, an' the hot cinders, an' all burnt his feet, an' he boun' rags aroun' 'em, an' his master burned the rags off his feet. Many's the time, I has gone down there with Miss Georgiana, an' the two little Missies, an' she would read the Bible to him. Massa Sheperd hated to see servants mistreated. He'd say, ''y God, kindness and politeness don't cost a red cent.'"
Every meetin'-day, everybody went to church, to Hopehull Baptist Church about six miles away. Massa Sheperd, an' Miss Georgiana, an' us three chillun rode in the rock-a-way. Thet a kin' of kerriage, shaped mos' like a bowl. The drivers seat was high, 'n front, then at the back, there was a broad deep seat, an on at the back was a little seat, with its back to the kerriage, an' a stoop let down from it. That was where the little black boy set, who got down an opened an shut the gates. Then he jumped back up, an set there, with his feet on the little stoop.
The kerriage was pulled by two big horses, one a bay, an' one a grey. The coachman what set up on that high seat, had on a long double-breasted black coat, shiny high boots, an' a tall silk hat. Massa has on a silk hat, too, but a tight waisted coat. But Miss Georgiana, she looked like a bokay. She didn't like to wear hoops, because she had sprained her ankle once an' walked with a limp. But she liked to wear thin, cool, flowerdy dresses, dimity an' lawn, white with little flowers of blue an' pink, an' yellow scattered over it, an' lotsa ruffles an' lace, an' a scoop, they called the bonnets, made of soft, white straw, comin' close over the ears, an' flarin' high an' spreadin' over the face, an' filled in with flowers, an' tied with long streamers of ribbon.
The little missies, with their white ruffled pantalets, comin down nearly to their shoe-tops, under the full skirted dresses with the little tight waists an' the little scoop bonnets, an flat-heeled shoes, an' back behin was the gate-boy, an behin him, was the two wagons filled with the black servants. We'll never see nothin like that again.
When the War was over, all the Shepard servants could read, an' mos' of them could write. An all of them had enough money to buy a little house for themselves. Why Massa Shepard had made every family have their own garden, an' pig, an' chickens, an' whoever went to town, even Massa, himself, would take the eggs, an' chickens, or whatever they had to sell, an' they got the money for the things they'd sell an' put it away, an' they had it when they needed it.
When Massa Shepard died the second year of the War, it was whispered aroun' that he had been slow-poisoned. By the people who thought he was too good to his servants. They called us 'them damn free niggers of Shepherds'. After a while, just before the War closed, Miss Georgiana mahried Mr. Slater, a Government man who got the supplies for the soldiers. Folks didn't think Miss Georgiana ought to have married him, Massa had left her so well off, an' I don't think she was very happy long, for he run through with what she had an' finally they moved away to Texas.
Mr. Slater had a place here in Montgomery, they called the 'fruit-farm', an' they come here an canned fruit, an spent a little while every summer, for a good while.
We had always been so well treated that when the servants was made free, even after the S'render, we jus' stayed on, an' took care of everything, jus' as we always had.
But after ahwile, they moved off to Texas, an' the black people settled down for themselves, an I was took as cook by a rich South Carolina family, Marchiel, in Montgomery, an' they treated me like I was their own daughter. I was allowed to go out three nights in a week, an' no more. No matter how much I cried, My Misses said, "I wouldn't let my own daughter do out, an' I won't let you.' I had to always be at home by eleven o'clock. We had a long plank walk from the front gate, up to the house, and around to the kitchen an' dinin' room. Sometimes in the mornin', Ol' Massa say, 'Em, did you come in las' night when I say come? 'an I say, "yessir', an' he say, "I heard you goin' roun the house, your shoes tappin' on the walk, better not be late', an' I say, 'No, sir.'
When I got engaged to be mahried, the boy had to ask for me, an' he said he was sweatin' when he got through, Massa was on one side, an Missis on the other, an Massa Marchiel say, If you doan take good care of her I'll take her back. She always got plenty to eat here.'
When their younges' daughter mahried she lef' her veil an' wreath for me an' they give me the weddin-dress an' shoes, an' I was married from their house.
My husban' was a carpenter, an' he lived in this house where we lived when he was alive. When he died, I went to work for a family that once was the richest family in the State, and now, Mrs. James Fitts Hill, one of the chillun I helped raise, is a big worker in Parentteacher work, an' I'll show you her picture I cut out of the paper. They come to see me every few days, an nex' week, they are comin' after me to go and spen' the day with them. The reason I has stayed so well, when I is so old, folks has always been so good to me.
