•~ ~








“Whére were you born, ~	.

	“On ole Mas sa Longslaughter‘ s plazitati on ne ar R ichinond Virginny.

“Can you read and write?“	. ~ “Dey neber teach me no readin‘ and writin‘ kaze I had to work

i:L de fields.“ His rusty hand rubbed across his wooly head~, ascmy ~eStiOllS continued with the regularity of a rnetronome) neverthe1es~, Uncle Billy seemed always glad to answer them. I couldn‘t i~e1~» but notice with what ease he moved about. He had the agility o::: a i~fl twenty years his Junior though his face ‚being caverned ~.iitiI ~rfinkles~ gave him the appearan~e of great age.

~ïhere is your home now, thiele Billy?“ I o~ntinu~ed. “L~ost any place I goes, white folks. Ma wife, she ~.ied ‘bout

~ort:T year ago in Virginny, and I been a trabelin‘ eber since.“

	“~that do you do for a living be94.des fi sliD‘ I ~ked.
~	ROh, ~ he said, “I canes a few chairs, „ pointing to his basket

o::~ chair~-~cafles beside him on the stringer of the wharf. “You sep, .:~te :irolks, when all dis repression carne on an‘ dere war‘n‘t no ~.:or: :~?ot de people tith do, jes lak aU de young scallawags I hops ‚ .e ~. train and goes on a triP.“)

“iiere do you go next, Uncle Billy?“

	~‘Jell, I guess I mought run ober to ÎJew Orleens if I can catch _~e ~ ~rejght train a goin‘ dat away.“

	tiAboUt your fixing chairs,“ I said. “Have you ever repaired

~: -Q1‘ well knov~n people?‘	. ? ~ ~ white folks, I caned a chair oncet f0 ‚ ~esident BUC~

~	::~~~: and he used it ter sit on in de White House. I‘se made many

~	L c~~a::.r fo‘ famous people as I trs~eled about. I guess I jus‘ keep

O~:	~ ~oin‘ as long as I‘se ~b1e, and when I goes on dat last trip
Aiab8Jfla.