skilled in any
particular line of work, if so give details?

The Turners made furniture wid knobs an' bumps on just like that stand
and bed. They made fancy chairs an' put cowhide seats stretch-across
'em.

43. What sort of school system was there for the instruction of the
Negro? Were there any Negro teachers in your community?

Yes. My son, he went to Negro school three months a year. The son said
that he studied Webster's Speller, Harvey's Reader, learned his ABC's
and studied some in history, geography and arithmetic.

44. How old were you at the close of the civil war?

21 years.

45. Describe the type of early religious meeting, the preachers, etc.

I went to town to my massy's church. I sat 'long side on 'em and held
the baby. My father, he held meetings on the plantation and prayer
meetings just like they have now.

46. Do your friends believe in charms and conjure bags, and what has
been their experience with magic and spells?

I guess some claim dey believe in sech things, but I don't know whether
they do or not.

47. Did you ever use an ox to plow with? What sort of plow?

Yes, I see 'em plow wid hoxen. Dey used the kind of plows they made on
the plantation. I didn't plow, but I used to have fun a goin' roun' in
the old ox two-wheel wagon cart. I'd go down de hill in it; we'd get in
the dump cart and holler an' have a big time.

48. How much did various foods and drinks and commodities cost just at
the end of the war and afterwards?

I don't know what things cost.

[HW: Negro-Tampa-Slave Interviews]
July 9, 1937

STORIES OF FLORIDA
Prepared for Use in Public Schools
by the
Federal Writers' Project of the Works Progress Administration

A MARINE IN EBONY
By Jules A. Frost

DAVE TAYLOR

From a Virginia plantation to Florida, through perils of Indian
war-fare; shanghaied on a Government vessel and carried 'round the
world; shipwrecked and dropped into the lap of romance--these are only a
few of the colorful pages from the unwritten diary of old Uncle Dave,
ex-slave and soldier of fortune.

The reporter found the old man sitting on the porch of his Iber City
shack, thoughtfully chewing tobacco and fingering his home-made cane. At
first he answered in grumpy monosyllables, but by the magic of a good
cigar, he gradually let himself go, disclosing minute details of a most
remarkable series of adventures.

His language is a queer mixture of geechy, sea terms and broad "a's"
acqui