*Interview with Theodore Fontaine Stewart* —_Gertha Couric, [HW: Eufaula]_
"De years are mighty long widout Lottie, Massa. She done gone on to de promise; but I knows she wid Jesus. And us gwine ’er walk dem golden streets together holdin’ hands."
Uncle Theodore Fontaine Stewart lives alone in a weather-beaten, one-room Eufaula shanty. It is clean and surrounded by flowers. In the rear is a small garden; and there you will find Uncle Stewart when the dawn is fresh or the dusk is coolly approaching.
"Lottie been gone away nigh onto twenty-two year now, Massa. Her was a good woman; one of de best de Lord ever sont to de earth."
He paused to think when the interviewer asked his age.
"It hard fer me to tell ’bout dat," he said, "but I knows I’se well past de ninety mark. I guess I’se gwine on a hundred, caze I was borned ’fore de war an’ was a right peart boy at de surrender."
"What about slavery times, Uncle Stewart?"
He mused a moment, his black fingers gently caressing the buttons on his rust-colored old vest.
"I ’members all ’bout dem times," he said, "an’ de Lord know dey was better times den we got now, for white or black. Nobody was hongry den, Massa, and peoples didn’t git in de devilment dey gits in now. Folks went to de church an’ ’haved demselves in dose days.
"Who was my Ol’ Marster?" He looked at the interviewer a moment, answered proudly, "Why, he was de riches’ man in Georgy. I knows you has heard of Marse Theodore Fontaine. He had three big plantations and mo’ niggers dan he could count. He moved clost to Florence, an’ his three places was so big you couldn’t see ’crost de littlest field.
"Ol’ Marster he lib in a big house, bigger dan any meetin’-house in Eufaula. He had a gang of fine horses, an’ when company was dar he had horse races on his own track. His horses could beat all de horses brought dar, an’ dat’s de direc’ trufe."
Uncle Stewart filled a blackened old corncob pipe with tobacco, continued:
"Ol’ Marster, he didn’t go to de war. He too ol’ to go, so he stay home an’ make corn an’ fodder an’ oats an’ sen’ dem to de soldiers what killin’ Yankees. One day de Yankees come along an’ burnt up everything on de place, ’cept de nigger cabins. Dey took all de horses and everything us had to eat.