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(Alabama. Preston Klein, Opelika, Jack Kytle, Editor)
Bible records place Anne Meddox's age at 113. She lives in a tiny cabin with her youngest child, Zora, about eight miles from Opeliks. She is very feeble now and had to be wheeled out on the front porch to have her picture made.
Anne lives exclusively in the past. To her, the present world is "full of de devil an' gettin' worser every day." She likes to talk about the old days, but her voice is feeble and barely above a whisper.
"I'se heerd a heap o' talk 'bout Mr. Abraham Lincoln," she wld, "an' I had a picture of him onc't; but I don't know nothin' 'bout him."
Anne takes her religion seriously and is devoutly confident what she will "inherit de promise."
"I jined de church in Gold Hill, Alabama," she recalled, "an' money, I felt so good I don't know jest how I did feel. I shouted for thee days an' wouldn't eat a bite. I couldn't even drink water."
The old slave was born in Virginia in 1824 and belonged to Umford. She was later sold to Bill Maddox, of Alabama.
"When I come from Virginny," she said, "us travelled in wagons and slept in tents. Eve'y mornin' us was made to clean ourselves and dress up; den us was put on de block an' bid on. White peoples come dere from everywhere; de face of de earth was covered by dem. I's thirteen den, an' I kin remember four wars.
"My mother and father was Charlie an' Rhody Heath, an' I had two brothers an' two sisters. Our houses was lak horse stables; made of logs wid mud an' sticks dobbed in de cracks. Dey had no
Moors. Dere warn't no furniture 'cept a box fer de dresser wid a piece of locking glass to-look in. Us had to sleep on shuck mattreses en' us cooked on big fireplaces wid long hocks out over a fire to hang cots on to oile.
"Us fried on three-legged skillets over de fire an' cooked ash-cakes on de hearth wid hickory leaves on de bottom nex' to de fire. 'tain't no sech food cookin' now as den.
"Bout four o'clock in de evenin' all de little niggers was called in de big yard where de cook had put milk in a long an den trough an' crumbled ash-cake in it. Us had pot licker in a trough, too. Us et de bread an' milk wid shells an' would use our minds, out it was good.
"Marster hunted a sheep, but us never did git none of what get whooped. Us hed plenty of clothes, sich as was, but dey was homespun wove at home. Us hed home-made shoes, hard brogans, called ties.' Dey had crass lace on de toe an' would rub blisters in de feet."
