spiritual for this occasion.

As in all things, some attended camp meetings for the opportunity it
afforded them to indulge in illicit love making. Others went to show
their finery and there was plenty of it according to Lycurgas'
statement. There seemed to be beautiful clothing, fine teams and buggies
everywhere--a sort of reaction from the restraint upon them in slavery.
Many wore clothing they could not afford.

There seemed to be a deeper interest in politics during these times.
Mass meetings, engineered by "carpet baggers" were often held and
largely attended, although the father of Edward did not hold with these
activities very much. He often heard the preacher point out Negroes who
attended the meetings and attained prominence in politics as an example
for members of his flock to follow. He believes he recalls hearing the
name of Joseph Gibbs.

Next to the preacher, the Negro school teacher was held in greatest
respect. Until the year of the "shake" (earthquake of 1886) there were
no Negro school teachers on Saint John's County and no school buildings.
They attended classes at the fort and were taught by a white woman who
had come from "up nawth" for this purpose. Edward was able to learn very
little from his blue back Webster because his help was needed on the
farm.

He was a lover of home, very shy and did not care much for courting. He
remained with his parents until their deaths and did not leave the
vicinity for many years. He is still unmarried and resides at the Clara
White Mission, Jacksonville, Florida, where he receives a email salary
for the piddling jobs about the place that he is able to do.

REFERENCE

1. Personal interview with Edward Lycurgas, 611 West Ashley Street,
Jacksonville, Florida

FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT
American Guide, (Negro Writers' Unit)

Pearl Randolph, Field Worker
Madison, Florida
November 13, 1936

AMANDA MCCRAY

Mrs. McCray was sitting on her porch crooning softly to herself and
rocking so gently that one might easily have thought the wind was
swaying her chair. Her eyes were closed, her hands incredibly old and
workworn were slowly folding and unfolding on her lap.

She listened quietly to the interviewer's request for some of the "high
lights" of her life and finally exclaimed: "Chile, why'ny you look among
the living fer the high lights?"

There was nothing resentful in this expression; only the patient
weariness of one who has been dragged through