“She was a-gittin’ long in years afore she got ’ligion. (She was good to me after dat.) She couldn’ learn de Lawd’s Prayer, but she used to pray, ’Our Father, which are in Heaven; Hallowed be Thy name.  Thy mercy, Lawd, You’ve showed to others; That mercy show to me.  Amen.’  She went to res’ in it, too.

“I went to Enterprise, den to Meridian, nussin’ (wet-nussin’ when I could) an’ workin’ out.  I never worked in de fiel’, if I could he’p it.  (Old Mis’ hired me out as a nuss firs’ when I was eight year old.)

“When I come to Meridian, I cut loose.  I’s tellin’ de truf!  I’s a woman, but I’s a prodigal.  I used to be a old drunkard.  My white folks kep’ tellin’ me if I got locked up one more time dey wouldn’ pay my fine.  But dey done it ag’in an’ ag’in.

“De Niggers called me ‘Devil.’  I was a devil ’til I got ’ligion.  I warnt baptized ’til 1887.  Den I foun’ peace.  I had a vision.  I tol’ it to a white lady an’ she say, ’Susie, dat’s ‘ligion a-callin’ you.’ (But you know, honey, white folks’ ‘ligion aint like Niggers’ ’ligion.  I know a woman dat couldn’ ‘member de Lawd’s Prayer, an’ she got ‘ligion out o’ prayin’, ‘January, February, March’.) I didn’ join de church ’til 1891, after I had a secon’ vision.  I’s a member in good standin’ now.  I done put all my badness b’hin’ me, ’cept my temper.  I even got dat under more control.

“I didn’ used to be scared o’ cunjers.  I’s scared now, ’cause I had it done to me.  I want to bed well an’ healthy an’ de nex’ nornin’ I couldn’ git up atall.  I’s tellin de truf.  A cullud man done it.  He was a crippled man, an’ mean as he could be.  I was good to him, too.  He tol’ me’ bout it, hisse’f: 

“‘He went to de graveyard an’ got some o’ de meanes’ dirt he could fin’ (I don’t know how he knowed which was de meanes’ grave) an’ put it under my doorsill.’  He sho’ fix’ me.  I ask him how come he done it to me an’ I been so good to him.  He smile kinda tickle-lak an’ say, ’It’s a good thing you was good to me, ‘cause, if you hadn’ a-been you’d a-been dead an’ in yo’ grave by now.’

“I aint got nary soul what’s kin to me dat I knows of.  I don’t want none of ’em comin’ to me now an’ a-sayin’, ’Don’t you ‘member yo’ own cousin?’ My white folks he’p me when I needs it.

“Dese young folks.  Shucks!  Chile, dey’s worse’n what I was, only dey’s more slyer.  Dat’s all.

“I’s glad I’se got ’ligion, ’cause when I dies I’s gwine to de ’Good Place.’”

Isaac Stier, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County
FEC
Edith Wyatt Moore
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes

ISAAC STIER
Natchez, Mississippi