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Du Bois, W. E. B. (William Edward Burghardt), 1868-1963

"The Souls of Black Folk"

Twenty thousand bales
of ginned cotton went yearly to England, New and Old; and
men that came there bankrupt made money and grew rich. In
a single decade the cotton output increased four-fold and the
value of lands was tripled. It was the heyday of the nouveau
riche, and a life of careless extravagance among the masters.
Four and six bobtailed thoroughbreds rolled their coaches to
town; open hospitality and gay entertainment were the rule.
Parks and groves were laid out, rich with flower and vine,
and in the midst stood the low wide-halled "big house," with
its porch and columns and great fireplaces.
And yet with all this there was something sordid, some-
thing forced,--a certain feverish unrest and recklessness; for
was not all this show and tinsel built upon a groan? "This
land was a little Hell," said a ragged, brown, and grave-
faced man to me. We were seated near a roadside blacksmith
shop, and behind was the bare ruin of some master's home.
"I've seen niggers drop dead in the furrow, but they were
kicked aside, and the plough never stopped. Down in the
guard-house, there's where the blood ran.


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