“My father died and mother, she moved over in Ca-lina on General Butler’s place.  She work in de fields.  I wouldn’ go to school but three months in de year.  When I growed up I work for Colonel Doctor McKie in de house.  He de fines’ doctor I ever knowed.  I got married to General Butler’s place where my mother was.  I done had six chillun before I come to Augusta.  I nused to work for Dr. Sam Litchenstein, 17 years.  He moved to Louisville and dat thow me out anything to do.  He tried to git me to go down dere wid him but I fell in bad health.  Den my daughter and dis yere grandchild, I couldn’ bear to leave dem.  I cried when Dr. Sam lef’, he was good to me.  I nused to carry dis grandchild to his house wid me all de time.”

As Nancy’s plantation recollections seemed vague, she was prompted to talk about remedies and cures and on these her mind worked with speed and decision.

“I had high blood pressure so bad I couldn’ walk right.  My head nused to spin, laying down all night, couldn’ res.  One night I doze off in my sleep and a lady’s spirit come to me.  Her and my mother was two friends, her name was Cyndie Gardenigh.  She say:  ’Honey, in de morning when you git up, you git you some jimpson weed and put it wid cookin’ salt and bind it on your head.’  I done det.  I nused to have long hair to my shoulder.  Jimpson weed done cut my hair off, but it cured my blood pressure.  Mus’ did kill ’em!”

Asked how she treated her rheumatism, Nancy replied: 

“Git a pint glass wid a pint of kerosene in it, and a block of camphor.  Cut up de camphor and mix it round in de kerosene.  Pat it on when de pain come.  When I got up dis morning, dis yere hand I couldn’ move, and now it feel a heap better.  Lord, I done work so hard thoo’ life, and all done tuk from me!”

A moment’s silence brought shadows to Nancy’s face.  A twinge in her knee reminded her of rheumatism cures.  She rubbed the painful spot and resumed:  “You know what I am wearin’ on my leg now?  I made me two lil’ bags and put a Irish potato in it, and when it drawed up jus’ as hard as a log it done me good.  But you got to steal two Irish potatoes, and put around both legs jus’ below de knee.  I just’ be leanin’ back stiff all de time, couldn’ walk.  A old white man told me about dat.  He see me walkin’ along crooked and he say:  ‘Auntie, what’s de matter?’ I told him.  He say:  ’Now, I’ll tell you what cure me.  I was off in a furn (foreign) country, and a man say; me walking cripple, and he told me to steal two Irish potatoes and wear ’em, and when dey git hard you burn ‘em up.’  I specked I bin crooked up all kind of fashion if I ain’t done dat:  I always bind a piece of brass around my leg.  Das’ good like gold.”

The eager grandchild was hanging over Nancy’s shoulder, listening and smiling.  The white boy edged up, and Nancy laughed.  “Hunh!  I spects dese chillun kin ’member tomorrow every word I tells you today.  Dey knows everything.”  Her bony arm encircled the Negro child.  “Jooroosalom oak—­we got some and give it to dis lil’ thing for worms.  She went off in a trance and never come out until 2 o’clock nex’ day.  I think we got de wrong thing and give her root instead of seed.  I never fool wid it no more it skeered me so.  Thought we had killed de child.”