she set fire to the tobacco
barn of her brother-in-law's barn, and not being able to get away [HW:
unable to escape] before the flames [HW: brought] a crowd, she hid in
the grass, right near the path where the people were running to the
fire. She had some kind of stroke, perhaps from fright, or pure deviltry
which 'put her out of business'. I wish I could remember whether it
killed her or just made a paralytic of her, but this is a true story.

PLANTATION LIFE AS VIEWED BY AN EX-SLAVE

FRANCES WILLINGHAM, Age 78
288 Bridge Street
Athens, Georgia

Written by:
Sadie B. Hornsby
Athens

Edited by:
Sarah H. Hall
Athens

Leila Harris
Augusta

and
John N. Booth
District Supervisor
Federal Writers' Project
Residencies 6 & 7

The interviewer arrived at Frances Willingham's address on a sultry July
morning, and found a fat and very black Negress sweeping the sidewalk
before the three-room frame house. There was no front yard and the front
steps led up from the sidewalk into the house. A vegetable garden was
visible at the rear of the lot. The plump sweeper appeared to be about
five feet tall. Her wooly white hair was plaited in tiny braids, and she
wore a brown print dress trimmed in red and blue. A strand of red beads
encircled her short neck, and a blue checked coat and high topped black
shoes completed her costume. Asked if Frances Willingham was at home,
the woman replied: "Dis is her you is a-talkin' to. Come right in and
have a seat."

When Frances was asked for the story of her life, her daughter who had
doubtless been eavesdropping, suddenly appeared and interrupted the
conversation with, "Ma, now don't you git started 'bout dem old times.
You knows your mind ain't no good no more. Tomorrow your tongue will be
runnin' lak a bell clapper a-talkin' to yourself." "Shut your big mouth,
Henrietta." Frances answered. "I been sick, and I knows it, but dere
ain't nothin' wrong wid my mind and you knows it. What I knows I'se
gwine to tell de lady, and what I don't know I sho' ain't gwine tell no
lie about. Now, Missus, what does you want to know? Don't pay no
'tention to dis fool gal of mine 'cause her mouth is big as dis room.

"I was born way off down in Twiggs County 'bout a mile from de town of
Jeffersonville. My Pa and Ma was Otto and Sarah Rutherford. Our
Mist'ess, dat was Miss Polly, she called Ma, Sallie for short. Dere was
nine of us chillun, me and Esau, Harry, Jerry, Bob, Calvin, Otto, Sallie