He was already a grown man with
three children when taken away by some of Sherman's men. He told me he
was with the Fifty-second Ohio, and mentioned Captain Shepard.
The two brothers got as far as Washington, D.C.
"We got los' togedduh in de U.S. buildin' in dat city," said Uncle
Wiley. "De President of de U.S. right at dat tahme he was daid. He was
kill', Ah don' s'pose it wuz a week befo' we got to Wash'n, D.C."
"How did you happen to come all the way back?" I asked.
"Well-l," ruminated the old man, "home was always a-restin' on mah min'.
Ah kep' thinkin' 'bout home. So aftuh de Wah ceasted Ah jus' kim 'long
back."
Many of the old plantation customs still survive. A little before noon
the bell is rung to summon the hands from the cotton fields. Over the
red plowed soil you hear a darky cry, a melodious "Oh-_oh_-oh!" as wild
and musical as the cries of the south-Italian olive gatherers. The
planters cease their work, mules stand still, traces are unhooked from
singletrees, and chain-ends thrown over the mules' backs; then the men
mount the animals and ride in to the midday meal, the women trudging
after. Those who rent land, or work on shares, go to their own cabins,
while those employed by the hour or by the day (the rate of pay is ten
cents an hour or seventy-five cents a day) come to the kitchen to be
fed.
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