e de
devil done take St. John's Church on his back and fly away to hell wid
it. Marse Henry Galliard make a speech and tell them what it was and beg
them to go home. Dat Mr. Skinner, de telegraph man at de depot, say de
main part of it was way down 'bout Charleston, too far away for anybody
to git hurt here, 'less a brick from a chimney fall on somebody's head.
De niggers mostly believes what a fine man, lak Marse Henry, tell them.
De crowd git quiet. Some of them go home but many of them, down in de
low part of town, set on de railroad track in de moonlight, all night. I
was mighty sleepy de nex' mornin' but I work on de railroad track just
de same. Dat night folks come back to St. John's Church, find it still
dere, and such a outpourin' of de spirit was had as never was had befo'
or since.

"Just think! Dat has been fifty-one years ago. Them was de glorious
horse and buggy days. Dere was no air-ships, no autos and no radios.
White folks had horses to drive. Niggers had mules to ride to a baseball
game, to see white folks run lak de patarollers (patrollers) was after
them and they holler lak de world was on fire."

Project #1655
W. W. Dixon
Winnsboro, S. C.

ED BARBER
EX-SLAVE 77 YEARS OLD.

Ed Barber lives in a small one-room house in the midst of a cotton field
on the plantation of Mr. A. M. Owens, ten miles southeast of Winnsboro,
S. C. He lives alone and does his own cooking and housekeeping. He is a
bright mulatto, has an erect carriage and posture, appears younger than
his age, is intelligent and enjoys recounting the tales of his lifetime.
His own race doesn't give him much countenance. His friends in the old
days of reconstruction were white people. He presumes on such past
affiliation and considers himself better than the full-blooded Negro.

"It's been a long time since I see you. Maybe you has forgot but I ain't
forgot de fust time I put dese lookers on you, in '76. Does you 'members
dat day? It was in a piece of pines beyond de Presbyterian Church, in
Winnsboro, S. C. Us both had red shirts. You was a ridin' a gray pony
and I was a ridin' a red mule, sorrel like. You say dat wasn't '76?
Well, how come it wasn't? Ouillah Harrison, another nigger, was dere,
though he was a man. Both of us got to arguin'. He 'low he could vote
for Hampton and I couldn't, 'cause I wasn't 21. You say it was '78
'stead of '76, dat day in de pines when you was dere? Well! Well! I sho'
been thinkin' all di