"Could you and would you tell about slavery days?" he was asked.
"Yes Ma’am," he courteously and smiling replied, the smile revealing big, strong teeth. "Yes, indeed. Would you all step in the house and set? I am so happy to have company."
He selected the dining room, which is also the comfortably furnished living room, as the place to "set and talk". In this room is an oak dining table, chairs and a china closet, through the glass doors of which may be seen attractively decorated dishes, some of them of very old pattern. There is also an old fashioned combination desk and book case, and a chest of drawers. The windows are adorned with curtains and drapes of good quality.
The clean condition of the interior was a revelation of a 92 year old Negro man’s desire and ability to keep house, and keep it clean. He lives alone, his wife having died many years ago.
There is in the appearance of this ancient Negro with shoulders now bowed; the dark brown skin, extending across the bald head; the large nose; immense teeth; shaven cheeks below which a mat of white whiskers encircle the throat, like the ruff on a condor’s neck; there is in his appearance that which stamps him at once as the living bridge between the present day’s civilization and a dim past; the knowledge of which exists today in the memories of but few persons.
As he talked, strange sights, scenes and cultures were told, sometimes with words that have changed much in meaning.
As his mind pictured the scenes of those old days, this primitive blending of both Indian and Negro races, at times unconsciously reverted to the primitive sing song recitative chant of his ancestors, particularly when narrating his outstanding pleasant memories.
"Old man Higgerson was my mastar. We lived on a farm and dere was a big family of us. I is the only one left. The farm laid just below the Lamine and Missouri Rivers, and I can’t tell exactly where it was. Everybody called us ’free niggahs’—cause Higgerson slaves was treated so good. Yes, ma’am. My mammy lived to be 80 years old—and didn’t have a gray hair in her haid. She was part Black Hawk Indian,—and I show it in me too."
Then as his thoughts raced back to slavery days, the pictures of youth crowded thick and fast, and he burst forth into a half chanted description of the panorama of his memories. "I’ve seen hundreds of Indians pass thru the country, on foot. Boss man let’ em have a shack overnight. Next mawnin dey set out on foot, and take up de road, one behind the othar. Yes, suh! Just wrapped in a blanket one behind the othar. Winter and summer, and barefoot too!"