.
Well, this man gave her 50c and she talked ter him. She says, boy, you
go home and don't you put that cap on no more. What cap? he says. That
cap you wears ter clean up the stables with, cause somebody done dressed
that cap fer you, and every time you perspire and it run down ter your
eyes it makes you blind. You jest get that cap and bring it ter me. I'll
fix 'em; they's trying ter make you blind, but I go let you see. The boy
was overjoyed, and sho nuff he went back and brought her that cap, and
it wuzn't long fore he could see good as you and me. He brought that
'oman $50, but she wouldn't take but $25 and give the other $25 back ter
him.

"What I done told you is the trufe, every word of it; I know some other
things that happened but you come back anudder day fer that."

PLANTATION LIFE

GEORGIA BAKER, Age 87
369 Meigs Street
Athens, Georgia

Written by:
Mrs. Sadie B. Hornsby [HW: (White)]
Athens

Edited by:
Mrs. Sarah H. Hall
Athens

and
John N. Booth
Dist. Supvr.
Federal Writers' Project
Residencies 6 & 7
Augusta, Ga.

August 4, 1938

Georgia's address proved to be the home of her daughter, Ida Baker. The
clean-swept walks of the small yard were brightened by borders of gay
colored zinnias and marigolds in front of the drab looking two-story,
frame house. "Come in," answered Ida, in response to a knock at the
front door. "Yessum, Mammy's here. Go right in dat dere room and you'll
find her."

Standing by the fireplace of the next room was a thin, very black woman
engaged in lighting her pipe. A green checked gingham apron partially
covered her faded blue frock over which she wore a black shirtwaist
fastened together with "safety first" pins. A white cloth, tied turban
fashion about her head, and gray cotton hose worn with black and white
slippers that were run down at the heels, completed her costume.

"Good mornin'. Yessum, dis here's Georgia," was her greeting. "Let's go
in dar whar Ida is so us can set down. I don't know what you come for,
but I guess I'll soon find out."

Georgia was eager to talk but her articulation had been impaired by a
paralytic stroke and at times it was difficult to understand her jumble
of words. After observance of the amenities; comments on the weather,
health and such subjects, she began:

"Whar was I born? Why I was born on de plantation of a great man. It was
Marse Alec Stephens' plantation 'bout a mile and a half from
Crawfordville, in Taliaferr