Slave Narratives Vol. XIV. South Carolina, Part 1

hed room, saturated with the odor of food. Behind the front door stands a gayly colored iron bed, over which is thrown a piece of oilcloth to keep the rain from leaking on it. In the c

in one side of the wall not only furnishes heat for the little room, but also serves as a cooking place for Lizzie to prepare her meals. On its hearth sits a large iron kettle, spider, and gri

. It is with somewhat of an effort that the visitor finally reaches the barred door of Lizzie's room, after making a skip here and there to keep from falling through the broken places in the little porch and at the same time trying to dodge the continual drippi

ray head appears through the crack of the door and Lizzie, peeping out from above her tiny rim spectacles, immediately recognizes her visitor. She offers her usual cheerful greeting and b

ornin, but all dis rainy weather got me obliged to keep dese old tubs settin all bout de floor here to try en catch up de water what drips through dem holes up de

give you de next time you come back. Miss Heddie, she lookin to a right sharp age, I say. Yes'um, she been here a ti

n' no use to scrub none, I say. You see, cripple up like I is, I ain' able to get no work off nowhe' en I keeps dem while dey parents work out. Dey mammas have a job to cook out en dey brings dem here bout 6 o'clock in de mornin for me to see after till dey get home in de afternoon. Cose dey helps me along, but it takes what l

ng from the back yard, where all the children went t

de matter wi

e, Possum knoc

peculiar thing to hit you

up dem stick out de

de ax. Dat ain' no fault of he own den. C

self, remains seated

ld time songs together to turn for you what you been axin me bo

enters t

inters dat my daddy brung for you to cook

here en put it in de corner. Ain' none of you had no business

s back out

n a long strip called a ballad, but honey, I been through de hackles en I can' think of nothin like I

es in to te

pile of splinters dat he was makin en Po

ia Woodberry, poor creature, she been down mighty sick en I ain' been able to go en see bout her no time. Don' know what ailin her cause I don' ge

in' gwine wear no coat

too. You ain' say your ma send you here widout no pocket rag to wipe your nose wid? You ma, she know better den to 'spect me to hunt rags for you. Come here en let

ph go out the door t

, my mind just a windin. How da

for

e for

ome you ain' tell de

ssum, good-bye Jun

, Alfred-Goo

d say. (12 o'clock mill whistle blows, time teller for many colored people of the community). Lord a mercy, what dat whistle say? It done come 12 o'clock en dat pot ain' thought bout to kick up none yet. I

make the pot boil and her visitor deci

ebruary