Y-ou-u!") is a sure
sign of death. Lowing of a cow in afternoon Georgia meadows means death
mighty close. If death come down to a house, better stop clock and put
white cloth on mirrors. No loud talking permitted. Better for any nigger
to bow low down to death....

To what factors did he attribute his long life, queried the gov'mint
man.

Long living came from leaving off smoking and drinking.

Would he have a nickle cigar?

He would.

Yes, he was feeling quite tol'able, thank you. But he believed now in
the owl and the cow and the clock.

In the morning-time one lives, but death always come in the afternoon.
Better for any nigger, anywhere, to bow low down to death.

PLANTATION LIFE AS VIEWED BY EX-SLAVE

JULIA COLE, Age 78
169 Yonah Avenue
Athens, Georgia

Written by:
Corry Fowler
Athens

Edited by:
Sarah H. Hall
Athens

Leila Harris
Augusta

and
John N. Booth
District Supervisor
Federal Writers' Project
Residencies 6 & 7

A knock on the door of the comfortable little frame house which Julia
Cole shares with her daughter, Rosa, brought the response, "Who dat?"
Soon Rosa appeared. "Come in Honey and have a cheer," was her greeting
and she added that Julia had "stepped across de street to visit 'round a
little." Soon the neighborhood was echoing and reverberating as the
call, "Tell Aunt Julia somebody wants to see her at her house," was
repeated from cabin to cabin. A few moments later Julia walked in.
Yellowish gingercake in color, and of rather dumpy figure, she presented
a clean, neat appearance. She and her daughter, who cooks for a
dentist's family, take much pride in their attractively furnished home.
Julia was of pleasant manner and seemed anxious to tell all that she
could. It is doubtful if Rosa made much progress with her ironing in an
adjoining room, for every few minutes she came to the door to remind her
mother of some incident that she had heard her tell before.

Julia began her story by saying: "I was born in Monroe, Georgia and
b'longed to Marster John Grant. My Mamma was Mittie Johnson, and she
died de year 'fore de war ended. I don't 'member my Pa. Mamma had four
chillun. Richard and Thomas Grant was my brothers, but me and my sister
Hattie was Johnsons. Marse John had a big plantation and a heap of
slaves. Dey was rich, his folks was. Dey is de folks dat give Grant's
Park to Atlanta.

"Dey called my grandpa, 'Uncle Abram.' Atter he had wukked hard in de
field all