<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class='left'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="melissawilliams">
<tr><td align='left'>N.C. District:</td><td align='left'> No. 2</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Worker:</td><td align='left'>Mary A. Hicks</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>No. Words:</td><td align='left'>652</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Subject:</td><td align='left'>MELISSA WILLIAMSON</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Story teller:</td><td align='left'>Melissa Williamson</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Editor:</td><td align='left'>Daisy Bailey Waitt</td></tr>
</table></div>
<hr style="width: 25%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2> MELISSA WILLIAMSON<br/> Ex-Slave Story<br/> </h2>
<h4>An interview with Melissa Williamson 77 of Bledsoe Avenue,
Raleigh, N.C.
</h4>
<p>"Dis June fifteenth sebenty-eight years ago I wuz
borned in Franklin County near Louisburg.</p>
<p>"My mammy an' me belonged ter Mr. Billy Mitchell [HW: Mitchell (?)] 'fore
she died, which wuz one of de fust things dat I 'members, an'
den Mis' Mitchel tuck me in her house an' raise me. Dat wuz
de fust year of de war, I believes.</p>
<p>"De Mitchels [HW: Mitchells (?)] wuz good ter us in a way, an' dey doan
spare de rod when it am needed, nor does dey think dat a
picaninny can't go barefooted in de hot summertime. Dey
believes in a heap of wuck do' an' no play at all, an' very
little rations.</p>
<p>"De men slaves 'ud wuck in de fiel's an' at dinnertime
dey ain't had nothin' 'cept a quart of buttermilk, an' a ash
cake. I got a whole heap better dan dey did, but youngin'-like
I begged dem fer some of dere dinner.</p>
<p>"I neber thought dat Mis' Mitchel wuz hard till I
seed her whup Aunt Pidea. Aunt Pidea wuz a good soul an' she
wuz good ter we youngins, an' we loved her. She got ter<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</SPAN></span>
gittin' frantic do', an' she'd put on her dinner on de stove,
den she'd go ter de woods an' run an' romp lak a chile.</p>
<p>"Mis Mitchel had loved her too, but atter awhile she
got mad an' she wuz mad bad too. She tuck Aunt Pidea out
ter a tree, stripped off her waist, tied her ter de tree an'
whup her wid a cowhide till de blood runs down her back.</p>
<p>"We wuz told dat de Yankees would kill us an' we wuz
skeered of dem too, an' I wuz always runnin' fer fear de
Yankees would git me. When dey did come I wuz out at de
well, drawin' water wid de windlass an' I wuz so short dat
I had ter jump up ter grap de handle. I looked up de road
an' de Yankees wuz comin' up de road as thick as fleas on a
dog's back. I gives a yell, turns de windlass a loose, an'
flies roun' de house ter my missus. Hit's a wonder dat
windlass ain't turn ober an break my haid in.</p>
<p>"I had hyard 'bout my sister what wuz sold 'fore I
wuz borned, an' I ain't knowin' whar she is, but atter de
war had been ober fer two years she comed ter Mis' Mitchel's
an' got me. She carried me ter Louisburg an' sont me ter de
Yankee school dar. I 'member a song dat de Yankees teached
us, or at least a part o' one.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"'How often we think o' childhood joys<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And tricks we used to play<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Upon each other while at school<br/></span>
<span class="i0">To while the time away.'"<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">Chorus<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"'They often wished me with them<br/></span>
<span class="i0">But they always wished in vain<br/></span>
<span class="i0">I'd rather be with Rosenell<br/></span>
<span class="i0">A-swinging in the lane.'"<br/></span></div>
</div>
<p>"I won't talk ter my chilluns 'bout slavery days,
case I doan want 'em ter git stirred up 'bout it. I'se told
'em dat we ain't paid no mo' dan de white folkses fer our
freedom, case some of dem sold dereselbes ter git hyar an'
dey fought in wars dat de nigger doan know nothin' 'bout.</p>
<p>"I know dat Mis' Mitchel done wrong when she ain't
give us enough ter eat, an' when she whup Aunt Pidea 'bout
bein' crazy, but I 'members somethin' else dat make me
tender towards her an' other white folkses.</p>
<p>"I 'members dat Mis' Mitchel used ter take me visitin'
ter white folkses houses an' some o' dem hates niggers an'
won't give me no place ter sleep, 'cept on de floor by missus
bed. Sometimes I can feel her now, kiverin' me up wid her
own clothes durin' de night or feelin' me to see if I'm
chilly or too hot."</p>
<p>AC</p>
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