Slave Narratives. United States. Work Projects Administration
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it right by de side of de head, an' she niver called me a liar ag'in. No ma'm, dat is somethin' I won't stand fer.
"My old lady had seven chulluns dat lived to git grown. Two of 'em lived here in Magnolia an' de others gone North. Maggie is daid an' I live wid my boy Walter an' his wife Lena. Dey is mighty good to me. I owns dis here house an' fo' acres but day live wid me an' I gits a Confed'rate pension of fo' dollars a month. Dat gives me my coffee an' 'bacco. I'se proud I'se a old sojer, I seed de men fall when dey was shot but I was not skeered. We et bread when we could git it an' if we couldn' git it we done widout.
"Afte' I lef' Mr. Lampton I'se come here an' went to work fer Mr. Enoch at Fernwood when his mill was jes a old rattletrap of a mill. I work fer him 45 years. At fust I hauled timber out'n de woods an' afte' whil'st I hauled lumber to town to build houses. I sometimes collec' fer de lumber but I niver lost one nickle, an' dem white folks says I sho' was a honest nigger.
"I lived here on dis spot an' rode a wheel to Fernwood every day, an' fed de teams an' hitched 'em to de wagons an' I was niver late an' niver stopped fer anything, an' my wheel niver was in de shop. I niver 'lowed anybody to prank wid it, an' dat wheel was broke up by my gran'chulluns.
"Afte I quit work at de mill I'se come home an' plow gardens fer de white folks an' make some more money. I sho' could plow.
"I jined de New Zion Baptist Church here in Magnolia an' was baptized in de Tanghipoa River one Sunday evenin'. I was so happy dat I shouted, me an' my wife bofe. I'se still a member of dat church but I do not preach an' I'm not no deacon; I'se jes a bench member an' a mighty po' one at dat. My wife was buried frum dat church.
"Doan know why I was not called Jim Sandell, but mammy said my pappy was named Henry Cornelius an' I reckin I was give my pappy's name.
"When I was a young man de white folks' Baptist Church was called Salem an' it was on de hill whar de graveyard now is. It burnt down an' den dey brung it to town, an' as I was goin' to tell yer I went possum huntin' in dat graveyard one night. I tuk my ax an' dog 'long wid me an' de dog, he treed a possum right in de graveyard. I cut down dat tree an' started home, when all to once somethin' run by me an' went down dat big road lak light'ning an' my dog was afte' it. Den de dog come back an' lay down at my feet an' rolled on his back an' howled an' howled, an' right den I knowed it was a sperit an' I throwed down my 'possum an' ax an' beat de dog home. I tell you dat was a sperit—I'se seed plen'y of 'em. Dat ain't de only sperit I ever seed. I'se seen 'em a heap of times. Well, dat taught me niver to hunt in a grave yard ag'in.
"No ma'm, I niver seed a ghost but I tell yer I know dere is sperits. Let me tell yer, anudder time I was goin' by de graveyard an' I seed a man's head. He had no feet, but he kep' lookin' afte' me an' every way I turned he wouldn' take his eye offen me, an' I walked fast an' he got faster an' den I run an' den he run, an' when I got home I jes fell on de bed an' hollered an' hollered an' tol' my old lady, an' she said I was jes' skeered, but I'se sho' seed dat sperit an' I ain't goin' by de grave yard at night by myse'f ag'in.
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:
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