I never had to do it, so it never concerned me how the clothes were ever washed clean.
As the Mississippi water was even muddier than now, the results of my washing can be better imagined than described.

After soaking and boiling the clothes in its earthy depths, for a couple of days, in vain attempt to get them clean, and rinsing through several waters, I found the clothes were getting darker and darker, until they nearly approximated my own color.

In my despair, I frantically rushed to my mother and sobbed out my troubles on her kindly breast.

So in the morning, before the white people had arisen, a friend of my mother came to the house and washed out the clothes.

During all this time, Mrs.Mitchell was scolding vigorously, saying over and over again, "Lucy, you do not want to work, you are a lazy, good-for-nothing nigger!" I was angry at being called a nigger, and replied, "You don't know nothing, yourself, about it, and you expect a poor ignorant girl to know more than you do yourself; if you had any feeling you would get somebody to teach me, and then I'd do well enough." She then gave me a wrapper to do up, and told me if I ruined that as I did the other clothes, she would whip me severely.