In our case the post-office was about three
miles from the plantation, and the mail came once or twice a week.
The man who was sent to the office would linger about the place long
enough to get the drift of the conversation from the group of white
people who naturally congregated there, after receiving their mail, to
discuss the latest news. 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.
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