The mail-carrier on his way
back to our master's house would as naturally retail the news
that he had secured among the slaves, and in this way they often
heard of important events before the white people at the "big
house," as the master's house was called.
I cannot remember a single instance during my childhood or early
boyhood when our entire family sat down to the table together,
and God's blessing was asked, and the family ate a meal in a
civilized manner. On the plantation in Virginia, and even later,
meals were gotten by the children very much as dumb animals get
theirs. It was a piece of bread here and a scrap of meat there.
It was a cup of milk at one time and some potatoes at another.
Sometimes a portion of our family would eat out of the skillet or
pot, while some one else would eat from a tin plate held on the
knees, and often using nothing but the hands with which to hold
the food. When I had grown to sufficient size, I was required to
go to the "big house" at meal-times to fan the flies from the
table by means of a large set of paper fans operated by a pulley.
Naturally much of the conversation of the white people turned
upon the subject of freedom and the war, and I absorbed a good
deal of it. I remember that at one time I saw two of my young
mistresses and some lady visitors eating ginger-cakes, in the
yard.
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