The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1902-09-02
OLD TIMES IN THE SOUTH.

well stocked With negro slaves. MY
father was a physician and being away
from home a considerable part of his
time, the negroes worked when it suit
ed their fancy, and as they were rath-
er a lazy lot, our farm wa not so well
cultivated as some of our thrifty
Dutch neighbors who owned no slaves
and did all their own work.
As a little child I was very fond of
our household slaves. They treated
us children with the greatest kindness,
sharing their few luxuries equally
with us and their own little piccanin-
MES. How well I remember Nanny
Lucy coming home from the election
with her big bandana handkerchief
full of ginger cake, and how all the
children, black and white, went to
meet her, and the generous pieces she
handed out to all! This was during the
war. The negroes worked faithfully
to support our soldiers, not knowing,
of course, that the North was fighting
for their freedom.
I went with my father and mother
to the depot every time a company of
our brave soldiers started off to the
war. How well I yet remember the
agonized partings with mothers, wives,
children and sweethearts, and with
what great anxiety the people at home
waited for news of their loved ones!
Mother was a very energetic person
and kept her negro women spinning
and coloring thread, and had plenty of
pretty cloth made to clothe all COM
fortably. Father would have all the
wooden jeans he wore colored black,
as he thought it looked more genteel.
Plenty of wooden hats for men were
made in this section, and ladies and
girls wore very nice looking hats made
| of wheat and rye straw. We were just
as proud then of new homespun dress,
neat calf skin shoes, a palmetto or
straw hat trimmed with shuck plumes,
as the little girls are to-day with all
their clothes. Wheat, rye, sweet po-
tatoes, and dried apples were parche1
and used as substitutes for coffee, and
all the cakes and preserves we're made
with Sd ghum.
Though the war cloud hung dark
and heavy, the negroes worked and
sung as usual. During the holidays
they would all come in from the diff
fereng places they were hired, and
have a season of great enjoyment.
From our house every night I could
hear the patting and singing and rat
Ting of bones, while the dance went
on in their cabins, and they kept per-
feet time, as every foot seemed to
strike the foo- at once. Sometimes
they raided hen-houses, and added a
feast to their merriment.
Although my people had been con-
siderable slave owners for generations
I was always a little Abolitionist and
had fully made up my mind to set my
share of the negroes free when I was
grown. When I first started to school
they were very glad and told me to
study hard and learn how to write
quick so I could write them passes
to visit around, as it was against the
law for a negro to leave his masters
place without a written permission
signed by his master. The negroes
we're loyal to the Southern cause. I
used to hear Nanny Lucy sing a
song, one stanza beginning:
cold Lincoln and his hirelings never
can whip the South;
Praise God and give us the victory"
Sometimes father and mother would
go to sit till bedtime with a neighbor,
and Nanny Lucy would be installed
for the evening in mothers place.
With the smallest child in her capa-
cious lap, and all the rest around her
as close as we could get, she would
entertain us with the thrilling stories
of wild animals, Indians, witches and
ghosts, until I verify believe my hair
would stand straight on my head, and
when at last our parents arrived and
sent us scampering off to bed I would
lie awake for hours frightened almost
to death thinking of the dreadful stor-
les I had heard.
When this part of the State was
raided by the Federal troops they stole
every horse and mule on the place,
and took all provisions that were not
hidden. The negroes buried all the
bacon in the cellar under the kitchen,