t up behind on some little
hook or something they had to fasten it up to. And the little babes had
long dresses. Come down to your feet when you hold the baby in your lap.
And embroidered from the bottom of the skirt all the way up. Oh, they
were embroidered up in the finest sort of embroidery.

"One day when I was nursing, my Missus' son--him and I been one age,
'bout the same age--he go up town and buy a false face. Now I didn't see
nuthin' like dat before! He put dat thing on and hide behind de door. I
had de baby in my arms, and when I start toward de door with de baby, he
jump out at me! I threw the baby clean under the bed I was so scared. If
it had of killed it, it wouldn't been me. It'd been dem! Cause I ain't
never seen sech a thing before.

"You say what schoolin' de slaves got? They didn't get none--unless it
was de bricklayers and such like, and de seamstresses. If de masters
wanted to learn them, they'd let 'em hold de book. But they wouldn't
miss de catechism. And they was taught they must be faithful to the
Missus and Marsa's work like you would to your heavenly Father's work.

"Didn't have no colored churches. De drivers and de over-seers, de
house-servants, de bricklayers and folks like dat'd go to de white
folk's church. But not de field hands. Why dey couldn't have all got in
de church. My marsa had three or four hundred slaves, himself. And most
of the other white folks had just as many or more. But them as went
would =sing=! Oh they'd sing! I remember two of 'em specially. One was a
man and he'd sing bass. Oh, he'd roll it down! The other was a woman,
and she'd sing soprano! They had colored preachers to preach to de field
hands down in de quarters. Dey'd preach in de street. Meet next day to
de marsa's and turn in de report. How many pray, how many ready for
baptism and all like dat. Used to have Sabbath School in de white
people's house, in de porch, on Sunday evening. De porch was big and
dey'd fill dat porch! They never fail to give de chillun Sabbath School.
Learn them de Sabbath catechism. We'd sing a song the church bells used
to ring in Beaufort. You never hear it any more. But I remembers it."

The old woman sang the song for me as melodiously and beautifully as any
young person. The words are:

"I want to be an angel, and with an angel stand,
A crown upon my forehead, a harp within my hand.
Right there before my Saviour, so glorious and so bright,
I'll hear the sweetest music,