Colonel Rhodes had a son an' a daughter. The son went back to England
afta his death an' the daughter went to Germany with her husban'. They
ain't never come back so the place was sol' for tax.

Durin' the war we was carry to Deer Pond, twelve miles on dis side of
Columbia. W'en the war was end' pa brought my sister, Louise, Rebecca,
who was too small to work, Josephine an' me, home. All my people is
long-lifted. My grand pa an' grand ma on pa side come right from Africa.
They was stolen an' brought here. They use to tell us of how white men
had pretty cloth on boats which they was to exchange for some of their
o'nament'. W'en they take the o'nament' to the boat they was carry way
down to the bottom an' was lock' in. They was anchored on or near
Sullivan's Islan' w'ere they been feed like dogs. A big pot was use' for
cookin'. In that pot peas was cook' an' lef' to cool. Everybody went to
the pot with the han's an' all eat frum the pot.

I was bo'n two years before the war an' was seven w'en it end. That was
in 1857. I never went to school but five months in my life, but could
learn easy. Very seldom I had to be tol' to do the same thing twice.

The slaves had a plenty o' vegetables all the time. Master planted t'ree
acres jus' for the slaves which was attended to in the mornin's before
tas' time. All provision was made as to the distribution on Monday
evenin's afta tas'.

My master had two place: one on Big Islan' an' on Coals Islan' in
Beaufort County. He didn't have any overseer. My pa was his driver.

Pa say this place was given to Mr. Rhodes with a thousand acres of lan'
by England. But it dwindled to thirty-five w'en the other was taken back
by England.

There wasn't but ten slaves on this plantation. The driver call' the
slaves at four so they could git their breakfas'. They always work the
garden firs' an' at seven go in the co'n an' cotton fiel'. Some finish
their tas' by twelve an' others work' 'til seven but had the tas' to
finish. No one was whip' 'less he needed it; no one else could whip
master' slaves. He wouldn't stan' for it. We had it better then than now
'cause white men lynch an' burn now an' do other things they couldn't do
then. They shoot you down like dogs now, an' nothin' said or done.

No slave was suppose' to be whip' in Charleston except at the Sugar
House. There was a jail for whites, but if a slave ran away an' got
there he could disown his master an' the state wouldn't le' him take