Name: Upson, Neal

Address: 450 4th Street Athens, Georgia

Age: 81

Written by: Miss Grace-McCune (White) Athens

Edited by: Mrs. Sarah H. Hall (Athens) and John N. Booth (District Supervisor Federal Writers' Project Residencies 6 & 7, Augusta, Ga.)

Citation: Federal Writers' Project: Slave Narrative Project, Vol. 4, Part 4, Telfair-Young (1936), Library of Congress, Manuscript/Mixed Material. http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.mss/mesn.044

Interview

Alternate rein and sunshine had continued for about 10 days and the ditches half
filled with water, slippery banks of red clay, and the swollen river necessitating a detour,
added to the various difficulties that beset the interviewer as she trudged through Mast
Athens in search of Neal Upson's shabby, three-room, frame house. A magnificent water
oak shaded the vine-covered porch where a rocking chair and swing offered a
comfortable place to rest.

"Good mornin', Miss," was the smiling greeting of the aged Negro man who
answered a knock on the front door. "How is you? Won't you come in? I would ax you to
have a cheer on the porch, but I hes to stay in de house cause de light hurts my eyes." He
had hastily removed a battered old felt hat, several sizes too large for him, and as he
shuffled down the hall his hair appeared almost white as it framed his black face. His
clean, but faded blue overalls and shirt were patched in several places and heavy brogans
completed his costume. The day was hot and humid and he carefully placed two chairs
where they would have the advantage of any breeze that might find its way through the
open hallway.

"Miss, I'se mighty glad you come today," he began, "cause I does git so lonesome
here by myself. My old 'oman wuks up to de court'ouse, cookin' for de folkses in jail, and
it's allus late when she gits back home. 'Souse me for puttin' my old hat back on, but dese
old eyes jus' can't stand de light even here in the hall, less I shades 'em."
When asked to tell the story of his life, he chuckled. "Lawsy, Missy," he said.

"Does you mean dat you is willin' to set here and listen to old Neal talk? 'Tain't many
folkses what wants to hear us old Niggers talk no more. I jus' loves to think back on dem
days 'cause dem was happy times, so much better'n times is now. Folkses was better den.
Dey was allus ready to holp one another, but jus' look how dey is now!

"I was borned on Marster Frank Upson's place down in Oglethorpe County, nigh
Lexin'ton, Georgy. Marster had a plantation, but us never lived dar for us stayed at de
home place what never had more'n 'bout 80 acres of land 'round it. Us never had to be
trottin' to de sto' evvy time us started to cook, 'cause what warn't raised on de home place,
Marster had 'em raise out on de big plantation. Evvything us needed t'eat and weer was
growed on Marse Frank's land.

"Harold and Jane Upson was my Daddy and Mammy; only folkses jus' called
Daddy 'Hal.' Both of 'em was raised right der on de Upson place whar dey played
together whilst dey was chillun. Mammy said she had washed and sewed for Daddy ever
since she was big enough, and when dey got grown dey jus' up and got married. I was
deir only boy and I was de baby chile, but dey had four gels older'n me. Dey was:
Cordelia, Anne, Ferthene, and Ella. Ella was named for Marse Frank's onliest chile, little
Miss Ellen, and our little Miss was sno a good little Chile.

"Daddy made de shoes for all de slaves on de plantation and Mammy was called
de house 'oman. She done de cookin' up at de big 'ouse, and made de cloth for her own
tembly's clothes, and she was so smart us allus had plenty t'eat and wear. I was little and
stayed wid Mammy up at de big 'ouse and jus' played all over it and all de folkses up dar
petted me. Aunt Tama was a old slave too old to wuk. She was all de time cookin'
gingerbread and hidin' it in a little trunk what sot by de fireplace in ner room. When us
chillun was good Aunt Tame give us gingerbread, but if us didn't mind what she said, us
didn't git none. Aunt Tama had de rheumatiz and walked wid a stick and I could git in dat
trunk jus' 'bout anytime I wanted to. I sho' did git 'bout evvything dem other chillun had,
swappin' Aunt Tama's gingerbread. When our white folkses went off, Aunt Tama toted de
keys, and she evermore did make dem Niggers stand 'round. Marse Frank jus' laughed
when dey made complaints 'bout her.

"In summertime dey cooked peas and other veg'tables for us chillun in a washpot
out in de yard in de shade, and us at out of de got wid our wooden spoons. Dey jus' give
us wooden bowls full of bread and milk for supper.

"Marse Frank said he wanted 'em to lern me how to wait on de white folkses' table
up at de tig 'ouse, and dey started me off wid de job of fannin' de flies away. Mist'ess
Serena, Marse Frank's wife, made me a white coat to wear in de dinin' room. Missy, dat
little old white cost lue me git de enliest whuppin' Marse Frank ever did give me." Here
old Neal paused for a hearty laugh. "Us had comp'ny for dinner est day and I felt so big
showin' off 'fore 'em in dat white coat dat I jus' couldn't make dat turkey wing fan do
right. Dom turkey wings was fastened on long handles end atter Marster had done
wanned me a time or two to mind what I was 'bout, the old turkey wing went down in de
gravy bowl and when I jerked it out it splattered all over de preacher's best Sunday suit.
Marse Frank got up and tuk me right out to de Mitches and when he got through brushin'
me off I never did have no more trouble wid dem turkey wings.

"Evvybody cooked on open fireplaces dem days. Dey had swingin' recks what dey
called cranes to hang de pots on for bilin'. Dere was ovens for bakin' and de heavy iron
skillets had long handles. One of dem old skillets was so big sat Mammy could cook 30
biscuits in it at one time. I allus old love biscuits, and I would go out in de yard and trade
Aunt Tama's gingerbread to de other chilluns for deir sheer of biscuits. Den dey would be
skeered to eat de gingerbreed 'couse I told 'em I'd tell on 'em. Aunt Mama thought dey
was sick and told Marse Frank de chilluns warn't eatin' nothin'. He axed 'em what was de
matter and dey told him dey had done traded all deir breed to me. Marse Frank den axed
me if I warn't gittin' enough t'est, 'cause he 'lowed dere was enough dar for all. Den Aunt
Tams had to go and tell on me. She said I was wuss den a hog atter biscuits, so our good
Marster ordered her to see dat li'l Neal had enough t'eat.

"I ain't never gwine to forgit dat whuppin' my own daddy give me. He had jus'
sharpened up a fine new axe for hisself, and I traded it off to a white boy named Roar
what lived nigh us when I seed him out tryin' to cut wood wid a sorry old dull axe. I sold
him my daddy's fine new axe for 5 biscuits. When he found out 'bout dat, he 'lowed he
was gwine to give me somepin to make me think 'fore I done any more tradin' of his
things. Mist'ess, let me tell you, dat beatin' he give me evermore was a-layin' on of de
rod.

"One day Miss Serena put me in de cherry tree to pick cherries for her, and she
told me not to eat none 'til I finished; den I could have all I wanted, but I didn't mind her
and I et so many cherries I got sick and fell out of de tree. Mist'ess was skeered, but
Marse Frank said: 'It's good enough for him, 'cause he didn't mind.'

"Memmy never did give me but one whuppin' neither. Daddy was gwine to de
circus and I jus' cut up 'bout it 'cause I wanted to go so bad. Mist'ess give me some cake
and I hushed long as I was eatin', but soon as de last cake crumb was swallowed I started
bawlin' again. She give me a stick of candy and soon as I et dat I was squallin' wuss dan
ever. Memmy told Mist'ess den dat she knowed how to quiet me and she retch under de
bed for a shoe. When she had done finished layin' dat shoe on me and put it back whar
she got it, I was sho willin' to shet my mouth and let 'em all go to de circus widout no
more racket from me.

"De fust school I went to was in a little one-room 'ouse in our white folkses' back
yard. Us had a white teacher and all he larnt slave chillun was jus' plain readin' and
writin'. I had to pass Dr. Willingham's office lots and he was all de time pesterin' me 'bout
spellin'. One day he stopped me and axed me if I could spell 'bumble bee widout its tail,'
and he said dat when I larnt to spell it, he would gimme some candy. Mr. Sanders, at
Lexin'ton, gimme a dime onct. It was de fust money I ever had. I was plumb rich and I
never let my Daddy have no peace 'til he fetched me to town to do my tradin'. I was all
sot to buy myself a hat, a sto-bought suit of clothes, and some shoes what warn't brogans,
but Missy, I would up wid a gingercake and a nickel's wuth of candy. I used to cry and
holler evvy time Miss Serena went off and left me. Whenever I seed 'em gittin' out de
carriage to hitch it up, I started beggin' to go. Sometimes she laughed and said: "All right
Neal." But when she said, 'No Neal,' I snuck out and hid under de highup carriage seat
and went along jus' de same. Mist'ess allus found me 'fore us got back home, but she jus'
laughed and said: 'Well, Neal's my little Nigger anyhow.'

"Dem old cord beds was a sight to look at, but dey slept good. Us cyerded Dint
cotton into bats for mattresses and put 'em in a tick what us tacked so it wouldn't git
lumpy. Us never seed no iron springs dem days. Dem cords, criss-crossed from one side
of de bed to de other, was our springs and us had keys to tighten 'em wid. If us didn't
tighten 'em evvy few days dem beds was apt to fall down wid us. De cheers was
homemade too and de easiest-settin' ones had bottoms made out of rye splits. Dem oaksplit
cheers was all right, and sometimes us used cane to bottom de cheers but evvybody
laked to set in dem cheers what had bottoms wove cut of rye splits.

"Marster had one of dem old cotton gins what didn't have no engines. It was
wuked by mules. Dem old mules was hitched to a long pole what dey pulled 'round and
'round to make de gin do its wuk. Dey had some gins in dem days what had treadmills for
de mules to walk in. Dem old treadmills looked sorter lak stairs, but most of 'em was
turned by long poles what de mules pulled. You had to feed de cotton by hand to dem old
gins end you sho had to be keerful or you was gwine to loss a hand and maybe a arm.
You had to jump in dem old cotton presses and tread de cotton down by hand. It tuk most
all day long to gin two bales of cotton and if dere was three bales to be ginned as had to
wuk most all night to finish up.

"Dey mixed wool wid de lint cotton to spin thread to make cloth for our winter
clothes. Mammy wove a lot of oat cloth and de clothes made out of it sho would keep out
de cold. Most of our stockin's and socks was knit at home, but now and den somebady
would git hold of a sto-bought pair for Sunday-go-to-meetin' wear.

"Colored folkses went to church wid deir own white folkses and set in de gallery.
One Sunday as was all settin' in dat church listenin' to de white preacher, Mr. hansford,
tellin' how de old debbil was gwine to git dem what didn't do right." Here Neal burst into
uncontrollable laughter. His sides shock and tears ran down his face. Finally he began his
story again: "Missy, I jus' got to tell you 'bout dat day in de meetin' 'cuse. A Nigger had
done run off from his marster and was hidin' out from one place to another. At night he
would go steal his somepin t'eat. He had done stole some chickens and had 'em wid him
up in de church steeple whar he was hidin' dat day. When daytime come he went off to
sleep lak Niggers will do when dey ain't got to hustle, and when he woke up Preacher
hansford was tellin' 'em 'bout de debbil was gwine to git ae sinners. Right den a old
rooster what he had stole up and crowed so loud it seemed lak Gabriel's trumpet on
Judment Day. Dat runaway Nigger was skeered 'cause he knowed dey was gwine to find
him sho, but he wern't skeered nuffin' compered to dem Niggers settin' in de gallery. Dey
jus' knowed dat was de voice of de debbil what had done come atter 'em. Dem
Niggers never stopped prayin' and testifyin' to de Lord, 'til de white folkses had done got
dat runaway slave and de rooster out of de steeple. His marster was dar and tuk him home
and give him a good, sound thrashin'.

"Slaves was 'lowed to have prayermeetin' on Chuesday (Tuesday) and Friday
'round at de diffunt plantations wher deir marsters didn't keer, and dere warn't many what
objected. De good marsters all give deir slaves prayermeetin' passes on dem nights so de
patterollers wouldn't git 'em and beat 'em up for bain' off deir marster's lands. Dey 'most
nigh kilt some slaves what dey cotch out when dey didn't have no pass. White preachers
done de talkin' at de meetin 'houses, but at dem chuesday and Friday night
prayermeetin's, it was all done by Niggers. I was too little to 'member much 'bout dem
meetin's, but my older sisters used to talk lots 'bout 'em long atter de war had brung our
freedom. Dere warn't many slaves what could read, so dey jus' talked 'bout what dey had
done heared de white preachers say on Sunday. One of de fav'rite texties was de third
chapter of John, and most of 'em jus' 'membered a line or two from dat. Missy, from what
folkses said 'bout dem meetin's, dere was sho a lot of good prayin' and testifyin', 'cause so
many sinners repented and was saved. Sometimes at dem sunday meetin's at de white
folkses' church dey would have two or three preachers de same day. De fust one would
give de text and preach for at least a hour, den another one would give a text and do his
preachin', and 'bout dat time another one would rise up and say dat dem fust two brudders
had done preached enough to save 3,000 souls, but dat he was gwine to try to double dat
number. Den he would do his preachin' and atter dat one of dem others would git up and
say: 'Brudders and Sisters, us is all here for de same and only purpose - dat of savin'
souls. Dese other good brudders is done preached, talked, and prayed, and let the gap
down; now I'm gwine to raise it. Us is gwine to git 'ligion enough to take us straight
through dem pearly gates. Now, let us sing whilst us gives de new brudders and sisters de
right hand of fellowship. One of dem old songs went sort of lak dis:

'Must I be born to die
And lay dis body down?'
"When dey had done finished all de verses and choruses of dat dey started:
'Amazin' Grace, How sweet de sound
Dat saved a wretch lak me.'

"'Fore dey stopped dey usually got 'round to singin':
'On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, And cast a wishful eye, To Canaan's fair and
happy land Whar my possessions lie.'

"Dey could keep dat up for hours and it was sho' good singin', for det's one thing
Niggers was born to do - to sing when dey gits 'ligion.

"When old Aunt Flora come up and wanted to jine de church she told 'bout how
she had done seed de Hebenly light and changed her way of livin'. Folkses testified den
'bout de goodness of de Lord and His many blessin's what He give to saints and sinners,
but dey is done stopped givin' him much thanks any more. Dem days, dey 'zamined
folkses 'fore dey let 'em jine up wid de church. When dey started 'zaminin' Aunt Flora, de
preacher. axed her: 'Is you done been borned again and does you believe dat Jesus Christ
done died to save sinners?' Aunt Flora she started to cry, and she said: 'Lordy, Is He daid?
Us didn't know dat. If my old man had done 'scribed for de paper lak I told him to, us
would have knowed when Jesus died?" Neal giggled. "Missy," he said, "ain't dat jus' lak
one of dem old-time Niggers? Dey jus' tuk dat for ign'ence and let her come on into de
church.

"Dem days it was de custom for marsters to hire out what slaves dey had dat
warn't needed to wuk on deir own land, so our marster hired out two of my sisters. Sis'
Anne was hired to a fambly 'bout 16 miles from our place. She didn't lak it der so she run
away and I found her hid out in our 'tater 'ouse. One day when us was playin' she called
to me right low and soft lak and told me she was hangry end for me to git her somepin
t'eat but not to tell nobody she was dar. She said the had been dar widout nothin' t'eat for
several days. She was skeered Marster might whur her. She looked so thin and bad I
thought she was gwine to die, so I told Mammy. Her and Marster went and brung Anna
to de 'cuse and fed her. Dat pore chile was sterved most to death. Marster kept her at
home for 3 weeks and fed Her up good, den he carried her back and told dem folkses
what had hired her dat dey had better treat Anna good and see dat she had plenty t'est.
Marster was drivin' a fast hoss dat day, but bless your heart, Anna beat him back home
dat day. She cried and tuk on so, beggin' him not to take her back dar no more dat he told
nor she could stay home. My other sister stayed on whar she was hired out 'til de war was
over and dey give us our freedom.

"Daddy had done hid all Old Marster's hosses when de yankees got to our
plantation. Two of de ridin' hosses was in de smokehouse and another good trotter was in
de hen 'ouse. Old Jake was a slave what warn't right bright. He slep' in de kitchen, and he
knowed wher Daddy had hid dem nosses, but dat was all he knowed. Marster had give
Daddy his money to hide too, and he tuk some of de plasterin' off de wall in Marster's
room and put de box of money inside de wall. Den he fixed dat plasterin' back so nice
you couldn't tell it had ever been tore off. he night dem yankees come, Daddy had gone
out to de wuk 'ouse to git some pegs to fix somepin (us didn't have no nails dem days).
When de yankees rid up to de kitchen door and found Old Jake right by hisself, dat pore
old fool was skeered so bad he jus' started right off babblin' 'bout two hosses in de smoke
'ouse and one in de hen 'ouse, but he was tremblin' so he couldn't talk plain.
Old Marster neared de fuss dey made and he come down to de kitchen to see what
was de matter. De yankees den ordered Marster to git 'em his hosses. Marster called
baddy and told him to sit de hosses, but Daddy, he played foolish lak and stalled 'round
lak he didn't have good sense. Den sojers raved and fussed all night long 'bout dem
hosses, but dey never thought 'bout lookin' in de smoke'ouse and hen 'ouse for 'em and
'bout daybreak dey left widout takin' nothin'. Marster said he was sho proud of my Daddy
for savin' dem good hosses for him.

"Marster had a long pocketbook what fastened at one end wid a ring. One day
when he went to git out some money he dropped a roll of bills dat he never seed, but
Daddy picked it up and handed it back to him right away. Now my Daddy could have
kept dat money jus' as easy, but he was a 'coptional man and believed evvybody ought to
do right.

"Aunt Tama's old men, Uncle Griff, come to live wid her on our place atter de
war was over. 'Fore den he had belonged to a man named Colquitt. Marster pervided a
home for him and Aunt Tama 'til dey was both daid. When dey was buildin' de fast
colored Methodist church in dat section Uncle Griff give a whole hundred dollars to de
buildin' fund. Now it tuk a heap of scrimpin' for him to save dat much money 'cause he
never had made ever $10 a month. Aunt Tama had done gone to Glory a long time when
Uncle Griff died. Atter dey buried him dey come back and was 'rangin' de things in his
little cabin. When dey moved dat little trunk what Aunt Tama used to keep gingerbreed
in, dey found jus' lots of money in it. Marster tuk keer of dat money 'til he found Uncle
Griff's own sister and den he give it all to her.

"One time marster missed some of his money and he didn't want to 'cuse nobody,
so he 'cided he would find out who had done de debbilment. He put a big rooster in a
coop wid his said stickin' out. Den he called all de Niggers up to de yard and told 'em
somebody had been stealin' his money, and dat evvybody must git in line and merch
'round dat coop and tetch it. He said dat when de guilty ones setched it de old rooster
would crow. Evvybody tetched it 'copt one old man and his wife; dey jus' wouldn't come
nigh dat coop wher dat rooster was a-lookin' at evvybody out of his little red eyes.
Marster had dat old man and 'oman sarched and found all de money what had been stole.

"Mammy died 'bout a year atter de war, and I never will forgit how Mist'ess cried
and said: 'Neal, your mammy is done gone, and I don't know what I'll do widout her.' Not
long atter dat, Daddy bid for de contract to carry de mail and he got de place, but it made
de white folkses mighty mad, 'osuse some white folkses had put in bids for dat contract.
Dey 'lowed dat Daddy better not never start out wid dat mail, 'cause if he did he was
gwine to be sorry. Marster begged Daddy not to risk it and told him if he would stay dar
wid him he would let him have a plantation for as long as he lived, and so us stayed on
dar 'til Daddy died, and a long time atter dat us kept on wukin' for Old -arster.

"White folkses owned us back in de days 'fore de war but our own white folkses
was mighty good to deir slaves. Dey had to larn us 'bedience fust, how to live right, and
how to treat evvybody else right; but de best thing dey larned us was how to do useful
wuk. De onliest time I 'member stealin' anything 'capt Aunt Tama's gingerbread was one
time when I went to town wid Daddy in de buggy. When us started back home a man got
in de seat wid Daddy and I had to ride down in de back of de buggy whar Daddy had hid
a jug of liquor. I could hear it slushin' 'round and so I got to wantin' to know how it
tasted. I pulled out de corncob stopper and tuk one taste. It was so good I jus' kep' on
tastin' 'til I passed cut, and didn't know when us got home or nuffin else 'til I waked up in
my own bed next day. Daddy give me a tannin' what I didn't forgit for a long time, but dat
was de wussest drunk I ever was. Lord, but I did love to follow my Daddy.

"Folkses warn't sick much in dem days lak dey is now, but now us don't eat strong
victuals no more. Us raked out hot ashes den and cooked good old ashcakes what was a
heap better for us dan dis bread us buys from de stores now. Marster fed us plenty of
ashceke, fresh meat, and ash roasted 'taters, and dere warn't nobody what could out wuk
us.

"A death was somepin what didn't happen often on our plantation, but when
somebody did die folkses would go from miles and miles around to set up and pray all
night to comfort de fambly of de daid. Dey never made up de coffins 'til atter somebody
died. Den dey measured de corpse and made de coffin to fit de body. Dem coffins was
lined wid black calico and painted wid lampblack on de outside. Sometimes dey kivvered
de outside wid black calico lak de linin'. Coffins for white folkses was jus' lak what dey
had made up for deir slaves, and dey was all buried in de same graveyard on deir own
plantations.

"When de war was over dey closed de little one-room school what our good
marster had kept in his back yard for his slaves, but our young miss Ellen larnt my sister
right on 'til she got whar she could teach school. Daddy fixed up a room onto our house
for her school and she soon had it full of chillun. Dey made me study too, and I sho did
hate to have to go to school to my own sister for she evermore did take evvy chance to
lay dat stick on we, but I s'pects she had a right tough time wid me. When time come
'round to celebrate school commencement, I was one proud little Nigger 'cause I never
had been so dressed up in my life before. I had on a red waist, white pants, and a good
pair of shoes; but de grandest thing of all 'bout dat outfit was dat Daddy let me wear his
watch. Evvybady came for dat celebration. Dere was over folks at dat big dinner, and us
had lots of barbecue and all serts of good things t'est. Old -arster was dar, and when I
stood up 'fore all den folks and said my little speech widout missin' a word, Marster sho
did laugh and clap his hands, he called me over to whar he was settin' and said: 'I knowed
you could larn if you wanted to.' Bess or all, he give me a whole dollar. I was for reciting
a speech. d rich den, plumb rich. One of my sisters couldn't larn nothin'. De only letters
she could ever say was 'G-C-D.' No matter what you axed ther to spell she allas said 'GC-
D.' She was a good field hand though and a good 'oman and she lived to be more dan
70 years old.

"Now, talkin' 'bout frolickin', us really used to dance. What I means, is sho 'nough
old-time break-downs. Sometimes us didn't have no music 'cept jus' beatin' time on tin
pans and buckets but most times Old Elice Hudson played his fiddle for us, and it and to
be tuned again atter evvy set us danced. He never knowed but one tune and he played dat
over and over. Sometimes dere was 10 or 13 cougles on de floor at de same time and us
didn't think nothin' of dancin' all night long. Us had plenty of old corn juice for
refreshment, and atter Elice had two or three cups of dat juice, he could git 'Turkey in de
straw' cut if dat fiddle lak nobody's business.

"One time a houseboy from another plantation wanted to came to one of our
Saddy night dances, so his marster told him to shine his boots for Sunday and fix his ??
css for de night and den he could git off for de frolic. Abraham shined his marster's boots
'til he could see hisself in 'em, and dey looked so grand he was tempted to try 'em on. Dey
was a little tight but he thought he could wear 'em, and he wanted to show hisself off in
'em at de dance. Dey warn't so easy to walk in and he was 'fraid he might git 'em
scratched up walkin' through de fields, so he snuck his Marster's hoss out and rode to de
dance. When Abraham rid up dar in dem shiny boots, he got all de gals' 'tention. None of
'em wanted to dance wid de other Niggers. Dat Abraham was sho struttin' 'til somebody
run in and told him his boss had done broke its neck. He had tied it to a limb and sho
'nough, some way, dat hoss had done got tangled up and hung its own self. Abraham
begged de other Nigger boys to help him take de daid hoss home, but he had done tuk
deir gals and he didn't git no help. He had to walk 12 long miles home in dem tigat shoes.
De sun had done riz up when he got dar end it warn't long 'fore his Marster was callin':
'Abraham, bring me my boots.' Dat Nigger would holler out: 'Yes ssh! I'se a-comin'. But
dem boots wouldn't come off 'cause his foots had done swelled up in 'em. His marster
kept on callin' and when Abraham seed he couldn't put it off no longer, he jus' cut dem
boots off his foots and went in and told what he had done. His marster was awful mad
and said he was a good mind to take de hide off Abraham's back. 'Go git my hoss Quick,
Nigger, 'fore I most kills you,' he yelled. Den Abraham told him: 'Marster I knows you is
gwine to kill me now, but your hoss is done deid.' Den pore Abraham had to out and tell
de whole story and his marster got to laughin' so 'bout how he tuk all de gals away from
de other boys and how dem boots hurt him dat it looked lak he never would stop. When
he finally did stop laughin' and snakin' his sides he said: 'Dat's all right Abraham. Don't
never let nobody beat your time wid de gals.' And dat's all he ever said to Abraham 'bout
it.

"When my sister got married, us sho did have a grand time. Us cooked a pig
whole wid a shiny red apple in its mouth and set it right in de middle of de long table
what us had built out in de yard. Us had evvything good to go wid dat pig, and atter dat
supper, us danced all night long. My sisster never had seed dat man but one time 'fore she
married him.

"My Daddy and his cousin Jim swore wid one another dat if one died 'fore de
other dat de one what was left would look atter de daid one's fambly and see dat none of
de chillun was bound out to wuk for nobody. It warn't long atter dis dat Daddy died. I
was jus' fourteen, and was wukin' for a brick mason larnin' dat trade. Daddy had done
been sick a while, and one night de fambly woke me up and said he was dyin'. I run fast
as I could for a doctor but Daddy was done daid when I got back. Us buried him right
side of mammy in de old graveyard. It was most a year atter dat 'fore us had de funeral
sermon preached. Dat was de way folkses done den. Now Mammy and Daddy was both
gone, but old Marster said us chillun could live der long as us wanted to. I went on back
to wuk, 'cause I was erazy to be as good a mason as my Daddy was. In Lexin'ton dere is a
rock well still standin' 'round a whole square what Daddy built in slavery time. Long as
he lived he blowed his bugle evvy mornin' to wake up all de folkses on Marse Frank's
plantation. He never failed to blow dat bugle at break of day 'cep on Sundays, and
evvybody on dat place 'pended on him to wake 'em up.

"I was jus' a-wukin' away one day when Cousin Jim sont for me to go to town wid
him. Missy, dat man brung me right here to Athens to de old courthouse and bound me
out to a white man. He done dat very thing atter swearin' to my Daddy he wouldn't never
let dat happen. I didn't went to wuk dat way, so I run away and went back home to wuk.
De sheriff come and got me and said I had to go back whar I was bound out or go to jail.
Pretty soon I runned away again and went to Atlanta, and dey never bothered me 'bout
dat no more.

"De onliest time I ever got 'rested was once when I come to town to see 'bout
gittin' somebody to pick cotton for me and jus' as I got to a certain Nigger's house de
police come in and caught 'em in a crap game. Mr. McCune, de policeman, said I would
have to go 'long wid de others to jail, but he would help me atter us got dar and he did.
He 'ranged it so I could hurry back home.

"'Bout de best times us had in de plantation days was de corn shuckin's, log
rollin's, and syrup cookin's. Us allus finished up dem syrup cookin's wid a candy pullin'.

"Atter he had all his corn gathered and put in big long piles, Marster 'vited de
folkses from all 'round dem parts. Dat was de way it was done; evvybody helped de
others git de corn shucked. Nobody thought of hirin' folkses and payin' out cesh money
for extra wuk lek dat. Dey 'lected a gen'ral to lead off de singin' and atter he get 'em to
keepin' time wid de singin' de little brown jug was passed 'round. When it had gone de
rounds a time or two, it was a sight to see how fast dem Niggers could keep time to dat
singin'. Dey could do all sorts of double time den when dey had swigged enough liquor.
When de corn was all shucked dey feasted and den drunk more liquor and danced as long
as dey could stand up. De logrollin's and candy pullin's ended de same way. Dey was sno
grand good times.

"I farmed wid de white folkses for 32 years and never had no trouble wid nobody.
Us allus settled up fair and square and in crop time dey never bothered to come 'round to
see what Neal was doin', 'cause dey knowed dis Nigger was wukin' all right. Dey was all
mighty good to me. Atter I got so old I couldn't run a farm no more I wuked in de white
folkses' gardens and tended deir flowers. I had done been wukin' cut Mrs. Steve Upson's
flowers and when she come to pay, she axed what my name wes. When I told her it was
Neal Upson she wented to know how I got de Upson name. I told her Mr. Frank Upson
had done give it to me when I was his slave. She called to Mr. Steve and dey lak to have
talked me to death, for my Marse Frank and Mr. Steve's daddy was close kinfolkses.
Atter dat I wuked deir flowers long as I was able to walk way off up to deir place,
but old Neal can't wuk no more. Mr Steve and his folkses comes to see me sometimes
and I've allus powerful glad to see 'em.

"I used to wuk some for Miss Mary Sacon. She is a mighty good 'omen and she
knowed my Daddy and our good Old Marster. Miss Mary would talk to me 'bout dem old
days and she allus said: 'Neal, let's pray,' 'fore I left. Miss Mary never"

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