The chest yielded up old cotton cards, and horns that had been used to call the slaves. Finally the "robe-tail muslin" came to light. The soft material, so fragile with age that a touch sufficed to reduce it still further to rags, was made with a full skirt and plain waist, and still showed traces of a yellow color and a sprigged design.
"My husband was Kinchen Rogers. His marster was Mr. Bill Golden, and he live 'bout fo' mile from where I stayed on de Hart plantation."
"Aunt Ferebe, how did you meet your husband?"
"Well, you see, us slaves went to de white folks church a-Sunday. Marster, he was a prim'tive Baptis', and he try to keep his slaves from goin' to other churches. We had baptisin's fust Sundays. Back in dem days dey baptised in de creek, but at de windin' up o' freedom, dey dug a pool. I went to church Sundays, and dat's where I met my husband. I been ma'ied jes' one time. He de daddy o' all my chillen'. (I had fifteen in all.)"
"Who married you, Aunt Ferebe. Did you have a license?"
"Who ever heered a nigger havin' a license?" and she rocked with high-pitched laughter.
"Young marster was fixin' to ma'y us, but he got col' feet, and a nigger by name o' Enoch Golden ma'ied us. He was what we called a 'double-headed nigger'—he could read and write, and he knowed so much. On his dyin' bed he said he been de death o' many a nigger 'cause he taught so many to read and write.
"Me and my husband couldn't live together till after freedom 'cause we had diffunt marsters. When freedom come, marster wanted all us niggers to sign up to stay till Chris'man. Bless, yo' soul, I didn't sign up. I went to my husband! But he signed up to stay wid his marster till Chris'man. After dat we worked on shares on de Hart plantation; den we farmed fo'-five years wid Mr. Bill Johnson."
"Aunt Ferebe, are these better times, or do you think slavery times were happier?"