Lina Hunter
From:
Georgia Narratives, Part 2
PLANTATION LIFE, AS VIEWED BY AN EX-SLAVE
Written By: Miss Grace McCune
Athens --
Edited By: Mrs. Sarah H. Hall
Athens --
and
John N. Booth
District Supervisor
Federal Writers' Project
Residences No. 6 & 7
Augusta, Georgia
Sept. 21, 1938.
=Lina Hunter=
Ex-Slave, Age about 90
270 Bailey Street
Athens, Georgia
Lina Hunter's weather-beaten house nestles at the foot of a long hill,
and several large chinaberry trees furnish shade for her well-kept yard.
As the visitor hesitated before the rickety front steps someone called
from inside the house, "Chile, do be keerful on dem old steps 'cause dey
might fall wid you; dey done went through wid some of dese chillun
here."
The tall mulatto woman who came to the door had tiny plaits of white
hair that covered her head in no apparent design. Her faded print dress
was clean, and she wore badly scuffed brogan shoes several sizes too
large on her stockingless feet. In answer to an inquiry she replied:
"Dis is Lina's house, and I is Lina. Have a cheer out here on de porch,
please, mam, 'cause de gals is ironin' in de house and dem fire buckets
sho make it hot in dar."
Lina readily agreed to tell of her life in the ante-bellum period. "I
'members all 'bout slavery time," she laughed, "cause I was right dar.
Course I warn't grown-up, but I was big enough to holp Great-granny Rose
look atter all dem other slave chillun whilst deir mammies and daddies
was in de field at wuk.
"Anne and Peter Billups was my mammy and daddy, and my granddaddy and
grandmammy was Washin'ton and Tiller Billups; all of 'em belonged to Old
Marster Jack Billups. Marse Jack stayed in Athens, but his plantation,
whar I was borned and whar all my folks was borned and raised, was 'way
down in Oglethorpe County. I don't rightly know how old I is, 'cause all
Marster's old records is done got lost or 'stroyed, evvy blessed one of
'em, but I'se been here a mighty long time.
"Honey, dat old plantation was sho one big place. Back of de big house,
whar de overseer lived, was just rows and rows of slave cabins. Dey
stacked 'em up out of big logs jus' lak dey made hog-pen fences. All de
cracks 'twixt de logs was chinked up tight wid red mud and, let me tell
you, Honey, dey was keerful to lay on so much red mud over dem sticks
dat chimblies on our place never did ketch fire lak dey did on some of
de places whar dey done things sort of shiftless lak. Dem cabins had two
rooms and a shed room 'crost de back whar day done de cookin'. Two
famblies lived in evvy cabin.
"Dey allus had plenty to cook, 'cause dere was plenty of victuals raised
on Marse Jack's place. Chillun was all fed up at de big house whar Marse
Garner, de overseer, lived. Deir mammies was 'lowed to come in from de
fields in time to cook dinner for de menfolks, but dey didn't git deir
chillun back home 'til atter supper. Granny Rose had 'em all day, and
she had to see dat dey had de right sort of victuals to make chillun
grow fast and strong. Chillun et out of wooden trays, and, Honey, dey
sho was some sight; dey looked jus' lak pig troughs. Dey poured peas,
cabbage, or whatever de chillun was to eat right in dat trough on top of
a passel of cornbread. For supper chillun jus' had milk and bread, but
dere was allus plenty of it. Marse Jack had lots of cows, and old Aunt
Mary didn't have no other job but to churn enough so dere would allus be
plenty of milk and butter, 'cause Marse Jack had done said milk was good
for chillun and dat us was to have it to drink any time us wanted it.
"Evvybody cooked on fireplaces den. I jus' wish you could see dat big
old fireplace in de big house kitchen; you could stand up in it. It had
long racks clear acrost de inside for de pots what dey biled in to hang
on. Bakin' was done in thick iron skillets dat had heavy lids. You sot
'em on coals and piled more coals all over 'em. Us had somepin dat most
folks didn't have; dat was long handled muffin pans. Dey had a lid dat
fitted down tight, and you jus' turned 'em over in de fire 'til de
muffins was cooked on both sides. I had dem old muffin irons here, but
de lid got broke off and dese here boys done lost 'em diggin' in de
ground wid 'em. Dem victuals cooked on open fireplaces was mighty fine,
and I wishes you could have a chance to see jus' how nice dey was.
"Evvy kind of vegetable us knowed anything 'bout was raised right dar on
de place and dey had big old fields of corn, oats, rye, and wheat. Us
had lots of fruit trees on de plantation too. Dere warn't no runnin' off
to de store evvy time dere was a special meal to be got up. Coffee,
sugar, salt, and black pepper was de most Marse Jack had to buy in de
way of victuals. Course dey was hard to git in war times. Parched corn
and okra seed was ground together for coffee, and us had to git up dirt
under old smokehouses and bile it down for salt. Dere was allus a little
sugar 'round de sides of de syrup barr'ls, and us had to make out wid
dat hot red pepper 'til atter de war was done over a good long time,
'fore dere was any more black pepper shipped in. Spite of all dat,
Honey, dem was good old days.
"Marster raised enough cows, sheep, hogs, chickens, and turkeys for us
to have all de meat us needed. He had lots of mules and oxen too. Dey
used de mules for 'most of de plowin' and for goin' to mill, and don't
forgit it took plenty of goin' to mill to feed as many Niggers as our
Marster had. Lordy, Lady! I never knowed how many slaves he owned. Oxen
pulled dem two-wheeled carts dey hauled in de craps wid, and I has rid
to town in a ox-cart many a time. Dem old oxen was enough to make a
preacher lose his best 'ligion. Dey had a heap of mean ways, but de wust
thing dey done was to run spang down in de water evvy time dey come to a
crick. It never mattered how deep it was, and you might holler all day,
but dey warn't coming out of dat water 'till dey was good and ready. Dat
happened evvy time dey saw a crick, but dere warn't nothin' us could do
'bout it, for Marse Jack sho never 'lowed nobody to lay deir paws on his
stock.
"Folks wove all deir cloth at home dem days. Dey made up plenty of
cotton cloth for hot weather, and for de cold wintertime, dere warn't
nothin' warmer dat us knowed about dan de cloth dey made out of
home-raised wool and cotton. Marster kept a slave dat didn't have
nothin' else to do but make shoes for evvybody on de place. Yes, mam,
Honey, dey tanned de hide evvy time dey kilt a cow. Leather was tanned
wid whiteoak bark. Chillun's shoes was finished off wid brass knobs on
de toes, and us was sho mighty dressed up Niggers when us got on dem
shoes wid deir shiny knobs. Little gals' dresses was made wid long
skirts gathered on to plain waisties. Dere warn't no showin' de legs lak
dey does now. Little boys had red and black jeans suits made wid
waisties and britches sewed together in front but wid a long buttoned-up
openin' in de back. Most of de other places jus' put long shirts on
little boys, but dat warn't de way dey done on our place, 'cause us
didn't belong to no pore folks. Our Marster had plenty and he did lak to
see his Niggers fixed up nice. Course in summertime none of de chillun
didn't wear nothin' but little slips, so dey could keep cool, but in
winter it was diffunt. Honey, dem old balmoral petticoats was some
sight, but dey was sho warm as hell. I seed a piece of one of mine not
long ago whar I had done used it to patch up a old quilt. 'Omans'
dresses was made jus' about lak dis one I got on now, 'ceptin' I didn't
have enough cloth to make de skirt full as dem old-time clothes used to
be." The old woman stood up to show just how her dress was fashioned.
The skirt, sewed to a plain, close-fitting waist, was very full in the
back, but plain across the front. Lina called attention to an opening on
the left side of the front. "See here, Chile," she said, "here's a sho
'nough pocket. Jus' let me turn it wrong-side-out to show you how big it
is. Why, I used a whole 25 pound flour sack to make it 'cause I don't
lak none of dese newfangled little pockets. I lak things de way I was
raised. Dis pocket hangs down inside and nobody don't see it. De
chilluns fusses 'bout my big pocket, but it ain't in none of deir
dresses, and I'se sho gwine to wear 'em 'til dey is wore out to a gnat's
heel.
"Chillun never had to wuk on our plantation 'til dey was big enough to
go to de fields, and dat was when dey was around 12 to 14 years old. Dey
jus' played 'round de yards and down by de wash-place dat was a little
ways off from de big house on a branch dat run from de big spring. On
wash days dat was a busy place, wid lots of 'omans bending over dem
great big wash pots and de biggest old wooden tubs I ever seed. Dere was
plenty racket 'round de battlin' block whar dey beat de dirt out of de
clothes, and dey would sing long as dey was a-washin'.
"Marster was sho good to his Niggers all de time. Course he made 'em wuk
'less dey was sick. Chillun never had nothin' to do 'cept eat, sleep,
and play. Evvy time Marse Jack come out to his plantation he brung candy
for all de pickaninnies, and, Honey, it warn't in no little sacks
neither; dere was allus plenty for 'em all, and it was a mighty big
crowd of us. Marster loved to come out on Sundays to see us chillun git
our heads combed. Honey, dere sho was hollerin' on dat place when dey
started wukin' on us wid dem jim crow combs what was made lak a curry
comb 'ceppin' dey warn't quite as wide acrost. When dem jim crow combs
got stuck in dat tangled, kinky wool, damn if dem chillun didn't yell,
and Marster would laugh and tell Granny Rose to comb it good.
"Granny Rose larnt me to keep clean and fix myself up nice, and, Honey,
I ain't got too old to primp up now. One thing dis old Nigger ain't
never done is to put hair straightener on her head, 'cause de Blessed
Lord sont me here wid kinky hair, and I'se gwine 'way from here wid dat
same old kinky hair. It's white now, but dat ain't no fault of mine.
Honey, I sho do trust dat Good Lord. Why, I 'member when I used to pull
out my own teeth; I jus' tied a string 'round 'em, laid down on my bed,
and said, 'Lord, I is in your hands,' and den I would give dat string a
hard yank and out come dem damn teeth.
"Yes, mam, I'se seed slaves sold. Dey jus' put dem Niggers up on de
block and bid 'em off. A smart worker brought a big price, and a good
breedin' 'oman sho did fetch de money, 'cause all de white folks did lak
to have plenty chillun 'round. Dem breedin' 'omans never done no wuk a
t'all; dey made other slaves wait on 'em 'til atter deir babies was
borned. Slave 'omans what had babies was sont back from de fields in de
mornin' and atter dinner so deir babies could suck 'til atter dey was
big enough to eat bread and milk; den dey was kept wid de other chillun
for Granny Rose to keer for.
"Slaves didn't even git married lak folks does now. Dere warn't none of
dem newfangled licenses to buy. All dey had to do was tell Marster dey
wanted to marry up. If it was all right wid him he had 'em jump over a
broom and dey was done married. Slaves couldn't git out and do no
courtin' on other plantations widout deir marsters knowed it, 'cause dey
had to have passes to leave de place whar dey lived. If dey was brash
enough to go off widout no pass de paterollers would cotch 'em for sho,
and dey would nigh beat 'em to death. Dat didn't stop courtin',
'specially on our place, 'cause dey jus' tuk anybody dey laked; it
didn't matter whose man or 'oman dey had.
"Marster had a big old ginhouse on de plantation about 2 miles from de
big house, but I never seed in it, 'cause dey didn't 'low 'omans and
chillun 'round it. De menfolks said dey hitched up mules to run it, and
dat dey had a cotton press inside de ginhouse. Dey said it was a heap of
trouble to git rid of all dem old cotton-seeds dat piled up so fast in
ginnin' time. Dere was a great big wuk-shop on de place too, whar dey
fixed evvything, and dat was whar dey made coffins when anybody died.
Yes, mam, evvything was made at home, even down to de coffins.
"Dere didn't many folks die out back in dem good old days, 'cause dey
was made to take keer of deirselfs. Dey had to wuk hard, but dey et
plenty and went to bed reg'lar evvy night in wuk time. When one of 'em
did die out, deir measure was tuk and a coffin was made up and blackened
'til it looked right nice. Whenever dere was a corpse on de place
Marster didn't make nobody do no wuk, 'cept jus' look atter de stock,
'til atter de buryin'. Dey fixed up de corpses nice. Yes, mam, sho as
you is borned, dey did; dey made new clothes for 'em and buried 'em
decent in de graveyard on de place. Marse Jack seed to dat. Dey put de
coffin on a wagon, and de folks walked to de graveyard. Dere was crowds
of 'em; dey come from jus' evvywhar. A preacher, or some member of deir
marster's fambly, said a prayer, de folks sung a hymn, and it was all
over. 'Bout de biggest buryin' us ever had on our place was for a 'oman
dat drapped down in de path and died when she was comin' in from de
field to nuss her baby. Yes, mam, she was right on de way to Granny
Rose's cabin in de big house yard.
"No, mam, I ain't forgot when de Yankees come to our place. Dat was
right atter de end of de war, not long atter us had been told 'bout
freedom. When us heared dey was on deir way us tuk and hid all de stuff
us could, but dey sho tore up dat place. Dey tuk all de meat out of de
smokehouse and give it to de Niggers, but deir bellies was already full
and dey didn't need it, so dey give it back to Marse Jack soon as dem
sojers was gone. 'Fore dey left dem Yankee sojers tuk Marse Jack's mules
and horses slap out of de plows and rid 'em off, and left deir old
wore-out stock right dar.
"Freedom didn't make so many changes on our place right at fust, 'cause
most of de slaves stayed right on dar, and things went on jus' lak dey
had 'fore dere was any war. Marse Jack had done told 'em dey was free,
but dat dem what wanted to stay would be tuk keer of same as 'fore de
war. Dere warn't many what left neither, 'cause Marse Jack had been so
good to evvy one of 'em dey didn't want to go 'way.
"Honey, back in dem good old days us went to church wid our white folks.
Slaves sot in de gallery or in de back of de church. I'se been to dat
old Cherokee Corners Church more times dan I knows how to count, but de
fust baptizin' I ever seed was at de old St. Jean church; dere was jus'
three or four baptized dat day, but Lordy, I never did hear such
prayin', shoutin', and singin', in all my born days. One old 'oman come
up out of dat crick a-shoutin' 'bout she was walkin' through de pearly
gates and wearin' golden slippers, but I looked down at her foots and
what she had on looked more lak brogans to me. I kin still hear our old
songs, but it's jus' now and den dat dey come back to my mind."
For a moment Lina was quiet, then she said, "Honey, I wants to smoke my
old pipe so bad I kin most taste it, but how in hell kin I smoke when I
ain't had no 'baccy in two days? Chile, ain't you got no 'baccy wid you,
jus' a little 'baccy? You done passed de nighest store 'bout 2 miles
back toward town," she said, "but if you will pay for some 'baccy for
Lina, some of dese good-for-nothin' chillun kin sho go git it quick and,
whilst dey's dar, dey might as well git me a little coffee too, if you
kin spare de change." The cash was supplied by the visitor, and Lina
soon started the children off running. "If you stops airy a minute," she
told them, "I'se gwine take de hide offen your backs, sho' as you is
borned." As soon as they were out of sight, she returned to her chair
and started talking again.
"Yes, mam, Honey, things went on 'bout de same old way atter de war."
Suddenly the old woman leaped to her feet and began shouting, "Bless God
A'mighty! Praise de Lord! I knows de key to prayers. I'se done prayed
jus' dis mornin' for de Lord to send me some 'baccy and coffee, and God
is done sont Missy wid de money to answer my prayer. Praise de Lord!
I'se glad I'se here, 'cause I coulda been gone and missed my 'baccy and
coffee. Praise God! I'se gwine to smoke dat damned old pipe one more
time." She seized the visitor by the shoulder as she shouted, "I sho
laks your looks, but you may be de devil for all I knows, and you may be
fixin' to put me in de chaingang wid all dis here writin', but" here she
gave the startled visitor a shake that almost pulled her out of the
chair, "Damn, if I don't lak you anyhow."
Her granddaughter, Callie, came out on the porch to see what was wrong
with Lina. "Granny," she said, "I wouldn't talk lak dat. Missy will
think you is dat way all de time."
"Git back to your ironin', gal," said Lina. "I knows I talks right smart
ugly. Didn't my Miss Fannie, tell me one time she was gwine to put
potash in my mouth to clean it out? Now, Nigger, I said git, 'fore I
hits you." Her grandmother started toward her, and Callie lost no time
going inside the house. Lina went back to her chair, and as she sat down
started singing. With each note her tones grew louder. The words were
something like this:
"God A'mighty, when my heart begins to burn
And dat old wheel begins to turn,
Den, Oh, Lord! Don't leave me here."
It seemed from the length of her chant that the wheels would turn
indefinitely, but no sooner had she finished that song, than she started
another.
"When my old mammy died a-shoutin',
All de friend I had done died and gone.
She died a-prayin', she died a-prayin'.
"In dat day dat you died, dat you died,
Gwine to be a star risin' in dat mornin'.
Didn't you hear 'em say, 'gwine to be a
Star risin' in de mornin'.
"De Christians all will know in dat day,
Dat my old mammy died a-shoutin', died a-shoutin',
'Cause dat star sho gwine to be dar.
"Oh, Lord! Don't leave me now, Oh, Lord!
But guide me all 'long de way, 'long de way.
'Cause I'se in trouble, dat I am.
Lord! Oh, Lord! don't leave me now."
"Honey, I jus' feels lak prayin' and cussin' too, at de same time, but
it's 'cause I'se so happy. Here I is, I'se nigh 'bout crazy. If Old
Marster could jus' come back I'd sho have plenty of evvy thing I needs.
"I 'members dem old frolics us had, when harvest times was over, and all
dat corn was piled up ready for de big cornshuckin'. Honey, us sho had
big old times. Us would cook for three or four days gittin' ready for de
feast dat was to follow de cornshuckin'. De fust thing dey done was
'lect a general to lead off de singin' and keep it goin' so de faster
dey sung, de faster dey shucked de corn. Evvy now and den dey passed de
corn liquor 'round, and dat holped 'em to wuk faster, and evvy Nigger
dat found a red ear got a extra swig of liquor. Atter de sun went down
dey wuked right on by de light of pine torches and bonfires. Dem old
pine knots would burn for a long time and throw a fine bright light.
Honey, it was one grand sight out dar at night wid dat old harvest moon
a-shinin', fires a-burnin', and dem old torches lit up. I kin jus' see
it all now, and hear dem songs us sung. Dem was such happy times. When
all de corn was shucked and dey had done et all dat big supper, dey
danced for de rest of de night.
"Dey had logrollin's when dere was new ground to be cleared up. De
menfolks done most of dat wuk, but de 'omans jus' come along to fix de
big supper and have a good time laughin' and talkin' whilst de menfolks
was doin' de wuk. Atter de logs was all rolled, dey et, and drunk, and
danced 'til dey fell out. I'll bet you ain't never seed nothin' lak dem
old break-downs and dragouts us had dem nights atter logrollin's. Dey
sho drug heaps of dem Niggers out.
"When de harvest moon was 'most as bright as daylight us had cotton
pickin's. Dem big crowds of slaves would clean out a field in jus' no
time, and you could hear 'em singin' a long ways off whilst dey was
a-pickin' dat cotton. Dey 'most allus had barbecue wid all de fixin's
to enjoy when dey finished pickin' out de cotton, and den lots of
drinkin' and dancin'. 'Bout dat dancin', Honey, I could sho cut dem
corners. Dancin' is one thing I more'n did lak to do, and I wish I could
hear dat old dance song again. =Miss Liza Jane=, it was, and some of de
words went lak dis, 'Steal 'round dem corners, Miss Liza Jane. Don't
slight none, Miss Liza Jane. Swing your partner, Miss Liza Jane.' Dere
was heaps and lots more of it, but it jus' won't come to me now.
"One night not long atter day sot us free, dere was a big old Nigger
breakdown on our plantation, and such a lot of Niggers as you never seed
was at dat dance. Whilst us was havin' de bestest time, takin' a drink
'twixt dances, us heared a 'oman screamin' lak murder. Evvybody run, but
us jus' heared a horse runnin' and dat 'oman still hollerin'. De
menfolks got on horses and rid all night but dey never did find 'em. One
of our gals was gone; a real young one named Rose Billups. Some damn, no
'count Nigger had done stole 'er. Us didn't larn nothin' 'bout her for
nigh onto a year, den she writ to Marse Jack to come atter her. He went.
It was a fur way off, and I don't 'member now whar it was. Dat mean man
had done most kilt Rose, and had left her wid a baby. No, mam, dey
didn't never cotch 'im.
"Norman Green had two wives and dey didn't live fur from our plantation.
I knows 'bout dat, 'cause in years to come I lived on de same farm whar
dey was. It was dis way: his fust wife, Tildy, was sold off from him in
slavery time. He got married again, and atter freedom come Tildy come
right back to him. He kept both his wives right dar in de same one-room
cabin. Deir beds sot right 'side each other. One wife's chilluns was all
boys and de other didn't have nothin' but gals.
"Yes, Chile, us wuked hard. I'se seed my mammy plowin' in de fields many
a time, wid her skirt pinned up to keep it out of de dirt. Yes, mam, us
did wuk, but us had a good place to stay, plenty somepin t'eat, and
plenty clothes to wear; dere warn't nothin' else us needed.
"Missy did you ever hear dat old sayin' 'bout folks gittin' speckledy
when dey gits old? Well, 'cordin' to dat old sayin', I'se sho been here
a mighty long time. Jus' look at my legs." She raised her skirts to her
knees to display the white specks that stood out in clear contrast on
her dark skin. "Dat's a sho sign of bein' old folks," insisted Lina.
She stood up and peered down the road, impatient for the return of the
children, who were to bring her tobacco and coffee. Finally she saw them
come over the hill and could hardly restrain herself until they arrived
in the yard. Snatching the parcels, as the children came up the steps,
Lina called out, "Callie, come here, gal, fix my pipe quick, and put
dat coffeepot on de fire bucket, 'cause Glory to God! I'se gwine to
smoke my old pipe and drink me one more good cup of coffee."
When Callie finally succeeded in filling and lighting Lina's pipe to
suit her, and the old woman had inhaled with an exaggerated air of
satisfaction for several moments, she indulged in a few more shouts of
"Praise de Lord!" then she said, "Honey, I'se ready to talk some more
now. Damned if I ain't gwine to git right on talkin' for you, 'fore I
starts off singin' again.
"Oh, it's 'bout my marriage you wants to know now, is it? Well, me and
Jeff Hunter got married up whilst I was still stayin' on Marster Jack's
place. Jeff went to de courthouse and got us a license lak de white
folks, and us had a nice weddin'. My dress was mighty pretty; it was
white lawn, made long waisted lak dey wore dresses den. Mrs. Lizzie
Johnson made it, and it had long sleeves, and a long full skirt wid lots
of ruffles. De two petticoats she gimme to wear wid my weddin' dress was
ruffled to beat de band and had trimmin' on evvy ruffle. My weddin'
drawers even had ruffles on 'em; I was really dressed up. Us had a big
fine supper and two dances. Sho, mam, dat ain't no mistake. Us did have
two dances, one was at home, and den us went over to my brother's house
whar he give us another one and served cake and wine to de weddin'
party. Atter us drunk dat wine, it warn't no trouble to dance for de
rest of de night.
"Me and Jeff moved on de Johnson place, and Jeff wuked some for Mrs.
Johnson's daughter, Mrs. Fannie Dean, but for de most part he wuked in
de wagon shop wid Mr. Tom Anthony.
"I'se still got one of my old weddin' petticoats; I wore out four bodies
on it." Lina excused herself and went inside the house for a moment. She
returned to the porch with an old-fashioned suitcase or "grip," as she
called it. "Dis here's older dan old Lina is," she said. "It belonged to
Miss Lizzie's daddy, but I sewed it back together atter dey throwed it
away, and I'se gwine to keep it long as I lives." She opened it and took
out a petticoat that was yellow with age. It was several yards wide and
was encircled by numerous embroidered ruffles. The skirt was sewed on to
a tight, straight body-waist that was much newer than the skirt and this
waist was topped by a rose-colored crocheted yoke. "Mrs. Fannie Dean
made dat for me," declared Lina. "Look at dis old black shawl. See how
big it is? Dat's what I used to wear for a wrop on church days 'fore I
ever had a coat.
"I'se still sleepin' on one of Miss Lizzie's beds. Come inside, I wants
you to see it." A part of the tall headboard had been removed so the bed
could be used in a low-ceiled room. The footboard was low, and Lina
insisted on showing the small double locks that joined the side pieces
to the head and foot boards. These are rarely seen now. She was using
the original old wooden-framed wire fabric springs, and a straw
mattress. As she displayed the latter, she said, "Yes, Chile, I still
sleeps on my straw tick, 'cause dat's what I was raised on and dere
ain't nothin' sleeps as good as dat old tick when it's full of good
fresh wheat straw."
Lina's coffeepot on the charcoal bucket was steaming and the visitor
prepared to depart so that the old woman could enjoy her drink while it
was fresh and hot. Lina followed her to the veranda and said with much
enthusiasm, "God bless you, Lady. You sho is done made me happy, and
I'se gwine to pray for you evvy day and ask de Lord to take keer of you
all de time. I'se gwine to do dat, 'cause I wants you to come back and
let me sing some more of our good old songs for you sometime." After the
house was no longer in sight, Lina's high pitched voice could be heard
singing =My Old Mammy Died a-Shoutin'=.
Next:
Emma Hurley
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Easter Huff
