Jacob
Stroyer,
one of fifteen children, was born on a plantation in Columbia, South
Carolina, in 1849. After the Civil War
he became an African Methodist Episcopal
minister, serving in Salem, Massachusetts. His autobiography, My
Life in the South,
was published in 1898.
(1)
Jacob Stroyer, My Life in the South (1898)
Most of the cabins in the time of slavery were built so as
to contain two families; some had partitions, while others had none.
When there were no partitions each family would fit up its own part
as it could; sometimes they got old boards and nailed them up, stuffing
the cracks with rags; when they could not get boards they hung up
old clothes. When the family increased the children all slept together,
both boys and girls, until one got married; then a part of another
cabin was assigned to that one, but the rest would have to remain
with their mother and father, as in childhood, unless they could get
with some of their relatives or friends who had small families, or
unless they were sold; but of course the rules of modesty were held
in some degrees by the slaves, while it could not be expected that
they could entertain the highest degree of it, on account of their
condition. A portion of the time the young men slept in the apartment
known as the kitchen, and the young women slept in the room with their
mother and father. The two families had to use one fireplace. One
who was accustomed to the way in which the slaves lived in their cabins
could tell as soon as they entered whether they were friendly or not,
for when they did not agree the fires of the two families did not
meet on the hearth, but there was a vacancy between them, that was
a sign of disagreement.
(2)
Jacob
Stroyer, My Life in the South (1898)
Gilbert was a cruel overseer. He used to strip
his fellow Negroes while in the woods, and whip them two or three
times a week, so that their backs were all scarred, and threatened
them with severer punishments if they told; this state of things had
been going on for quite a while. As I was a favorite with Gilbert,
I always managed to escape a whipping. But finally, one day, Gilbert
said to me, "Jake," as he used to call me, "you am
a good boy, but I'm going to whip you some today, as I whip the other
boys." Of course I was required to strip off my only garment,
which was an Osnaburg linen shirt, worn by both sexes of the Negro
children in the summer. As I stood trembling before my merciless superior,
who had a switch in his hand, thousands of thoughts went through my
little mind as to how to get rid of the whipping. I finally fell upon
a plan which I hoped would save me from a punishment that was near
at hand. I commenced reluctantly to take off my shirt, at the same
time pleading with Gilbert, who paid no attention to my prayer.

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