he night she was born the stork brought a little baby girl to the home
of a white family just across the creek from the Syberts. The little
white girl was named Arine so "Miss Peggy" named the little new black
baby girl Arrie, and that is how it happened she was given such an odd
name.

Arrie said she was "15 or 16 years old when the war broke (1865), I wuz
big enough to be lookin' at boys an' dey lookin' at me." She remembers
the days of war, how when the battle of Atlanta was raging they heard
the distant rumble of cannon, and how "upsot" they all were. Her master
died of "the consumption" during the war. She recalls how hard it was
after his death. The Syberts had no children and there was no one to
turn to after his death. Arrie tells of her Master's illness, how she
was the housemaid and was called upon to fan him and how she would get
so tired and sleepy she would nod a little, the fan dropping from hands
into his face. He would take it up and "crack my haid with the handle to
wake me up. I wuz allus so sorry when I done that, but I jest had ter
nod."

She told about how bad the overseers were and the trouble they gave
until finally "old Miss turned off ther one she had an' put my Pa in his
place to manage things and look after the work." Arrie was never
punished, (not any more than having her head cracked by her Master when
she nodded while fanning him.) "No mam, not none of our niggers wuz
whipped. Why I recollect once, my brother wuz out without a pass an' de
patter rollers kotch him and brung him to old Miss and said he'd have
ter be whipped, old Miss got so mad she didn't know what ter do, she
said nobody wuz a goin' ter whip her niggers, but the patter roller men
'sisted so she said after er while, 'Well, but I'm goin' ter stan' right
here an' when I say stop, yer got ter stop', an' they 'greed to dat, an'
the third time dey hit him she raised her han' an' said 'STOP' an' dey
had ter let my brother go. My Miss wuz a big 'oman, she'd weigh nigh on
ter three hundred pound, I 'spect."

After her master's death Arrie had to go into the field to work. She
recalled with a little chuckle, the old cream horse, "Toby" she use to
plow. She loved Toby, she said, and they did good work. When not plowing
she said she "picked er round in the fields" doing whatever she could.
She and the other slaves were not required to do very hard work. Her
mother was a field hand, but in the evenings she spun and wove down in
their