om grace. Him covet a hog of Marse Walt Brice and was
sent to de penitentiary for two years, 'bout dat hog. Him contacted
consumption down dere and come home. His chest was all sunk in and his
ribs full of rheumatism. Him soon went to bed and died. Him was buried
on top of de hill, in de pines just north of Woodward. Uncle Pompey
preached de funeral. White folks was dere. Marse William was dere, and
his nephew, de Attorney General of Arizona. Uncle Pompey took his text
'bout Paul and Silas layin' in jail and dat it was not 'ternally against
a church member to go to jail. Him dwell on de life of labor and
bravery, in tacklin' kickin' hosses and mules. How him sharpen de dull
plow points and make de corn and cotton grow, to feed and clothe de
hungry and naked. He look up thru de pine tree tops and say: 'I see
Jacob's ladder. Brother Wash is climbin' dat ladder. Him is half way up.
Ah! Brudders and sisters, pray, while I preach dat he enter in them
pearly gates. I see them gates open. Brother Wash done reach de topmost
rung in dat ladder. Let us sing wid a shout, dat blessed hymn, 'Dere is
a Fountain Filled Wid Blood'.' Wid de first verse de women got to
hollerin' and wid de second', Uncle Pompey say: 'De dyin' thief I see
him dere to welcome Brother Wash in paradise. Thank God! Brother Wash
done washed as white as snow and landed safe forever more.'

"Dat Attorney General turn up his coat in de November wind and say;
'I'll be damn! Marse William smile and 'low: 'Oh Tom! Don't be too hard
on them. 'Member He will have mercy on them, dat have mercy on
others'."

=Project #1655=
=Stiles M. Scruggs=
=Columbia, S.C.=

=DANIEL WARING=

=_EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD._=

"I was born in Fairfield County, South Carolina, in 1849, and my
parents, Tobias and Becky Waring was slaves of the Waring family, and
the Bookters and Warings was kin folks. When I was just a little shaver
I was told I b'longed to the family of the late Colonel Edward Bookter
of upper Fairfield County.

"The Bookter plantation was a big one, with pastures for cattle, hogs
and sheep; big field of cotton, corn and wheat, and 'bout a dozen Negro
families livin' on it, mostly out of sight from the Bookter's big house.
Two women and three or four Negro chillun work there, preparin' the food
and carin' for the stock. I was one of the chillun. Colonel Bookter's
household had three boys; one bigger than me and two not quite as big as
me. We play together,