“An’ let me tell yer dis.  Right in front of dis house—­yer see dat white house?—­Well, last Febr’ary a good old cullud lady died in dat house, an’ afte’ she was buried de rest of de fambly moved away, an’ every night I kin look over to dat house an’ see a light in de window.  Dat light comes an’ goes, an’ nobody lives dar.  Doan I know dat is de sperit of dat woman comin’ back here to tell some of her fambly a message?  Yes ma’m, dat is her sperit an’ dat house is hanted an’ nobody will live dar ag’in.

“No ma’m, I can’t read nor write.”

Charlie Davenport, Ex-slave, Adams County
FEC
Edith Wyatt Moore
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes

[Charlie Davenport Natchez, Mississippi]

“I was named Charlie Davenport an’ encordin’[FN:  according] to de way I figgers I ought to be nearly a hund’ed years old.  Nobody knows my birthday, ’cause all my white folks is gone.

“I was born one night an’ de very nex’ mornin’ my po’ little mammy died.  Her name was Lucindy.  My pa was William Davenport.

“When I was a little mite dey turnt me over to de granny nurse on de plantation.  She was de one dat ’tended to de little pickaninnies.  She got a woman to nurse me what had a young baby, so I didn’ know no dif’ence.  Any woman what had a baby ’bout my age would wet nurse me, so I growed up in de quarters an’ was as well an’ as happy as any other chil’.

“When I could tote taters[FN:  sweet potatoes] dey’d let me pick’ em up in de fiel’.  Us always hid a pile away where us could git’ em an’ roast’ em at night.

“Old mammy nearly always made a heap o’ dewberry an’ ’simmon[FN:  persimmon]. wine.

“Us little tykes would gather black walnuts in de woods an’ store ’em under de cabins to dry.

“At night when de work was all done an’ de can’les was out us’d set ‘roun’ de fire an’ eat cracked nuts an’ taters.  Us picked out de nuts wid horse-shoe nails an’ baked de taters in ashes.  Den Mammy would pour herse’f an’ her old man a cup o’ wine.  Us never got none o’ dat less’n[FN:  unless] us be’s sick.  Den she’d mess it up wid wild cherry bark.  It was bad den, but us gulped it down, anyhow.

“Old Granny used to sing a song to us what went lak dis: 

  ’Kinky head, whar-fore you skeered? 
  Old snake crawled off, ’cause he’s afeared. 
  Pappy will smite ’im on de back
  Wid a great big club—­ker whack!  Ker whack!’

“Aventine, where I was born an’ bred, was acrost Secon’ Creek.  It was a big plantation wid ‘bout a hund’ed head o’ folks a-livin’ on it.  It was only one o’ de marster’s places, ‘cause he was one o’ de riches’ an’ highes’ quality gent’men in de whole country.  I’s tellin’ you de trufe, us didn’ b’long to no white trash.  De marster was de Honorable Mister Gabriel Shields hisse’f.  Ever’body knowed ’bout him.  He married a Surget.

“Dem Surgets was pretty devilish; for all dey was de riches’ fam’ly in de lan’.  Dey was de out-fightin’es’, out-cussin’es’, fastes’ ridin’, hardes’ drinkin’, out-spendin’es’ folks I ever seen.  But Lawd!  Lawd!  Dey was gent’men even in dey cups.  De ladies was beautiful wid big black eyes an’ sof’ white han’s, but dey was high strung, too.