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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery
+in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves., by Work Projects Administration
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves.
+       Texas Narratives, Part 2
+
+Author: Work Projects Administration
+
+Release Date: January 14, 2010 [EBook #30967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES, TEXAS, PART 2 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Miranda van de Heijning and The Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
+  |                                                              |
+  | Transcriber's Note:                                          |
+  |                                                              |
+  | I. Inconsistent punctuation and capitalisation has been      |
+  | silently corrected throughout the book.                      |
+  |                                                              |
+  | II. Clear spelling mistakes have been corrected however,     |
+  | inconsistent language usage (such as 'day' and 'dey') has    |
+  | been maintained. Inconsistent spelling of place names and    |
+  | personal names has also been retained. A list of corrections |
+  | is included at the end of the book.                          |
+  |                                                              |
+  | III. Handwritten corrections have been incorporated within   |
+  | the text. Exceptions are notes which were just question      |
+  | marks or were followed by question marks: these have been    |
+  | explicitly included as 'Handwritten Notes'.                  |
+  |                                                              |
+  | IV. The numbers at the start of each interview were stamped  |
+  | into the original work and refer to the number of the        |
+  | published interview in the context of the entire Slave       |
+  | Narratives project.                                          |
+  |                                                              |
+  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+  SLAVE NARRATIVES
+
+  _A Folk History of Slavery in the United States
+  from Interviews with Former Slaves_
+
+  TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY
+  THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT
+  1936-1938
+  ASSEMBLED BY
+  THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT
+  WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION
+  FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
+  SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
+
+  _Illustrated with Photographs_
+
+
+  WASHINGTON 1941
+
+
+
+
+  VOLUME XVI
+
+  TEXAS NARRATIVES
+
+  PART 2
+
+
+  Prepared by the Federal Writers' Project of the Works Progress
+  Administration for the State of Texas
+
+
+
+
+  INFORMANTS
+
+
+  Easter, Willis                          1
+
+  Edwards, Anderson and Minerva           5
+
+  Edwards, Ann J.                        10
+
+  Edwards, Mary Kincheon                 15
+
+  Elder, Lucinda                         17
+
+  Ellis, John                            21
+
+  Ezell, Lorenza                         25
+
+  Farrow, Betty                          33
+
+  Finnely, John                          35
+
+  Ford, Sarah                            41
+
+  Forward, Millie                        47
+
+  Fowler, Louis                          50
+
+  Franklin, Chris                        55
+
+  Franks, Orelia Alexie                  60
+
+  Frazier, Rosanna                       63
+
+
+  Gibson, Priscilla                      66
+
+  Gilbert, Gabriel                       68
+
+  Gilmore, Mattie                        71
+
+  Goodman, Andrew                        74
+
+  Grant, Austin                          81
+
+  Green, James                           87
+
+  Green, O.W.                            90
+
+  Green, Rosa                            94
+
+  Green, William (Rev. Bill)             96
+
+  Grice, Pauline                         98
+
+
+  Hadnot, Mandy                         102
+
+  Hamilton, William                     106
+
+  Harper, Pierce                        109
+
+  Harrell, Molly                        115
+
+  Hawthorne, Ann                        118
+
+  Hayes, James                          126
+
+  Haywood, Felix                        130
+
+  Henderson, Phoebe                     135
+
+  Hill, Albert                          137
+
+  Hoard, Rosina                         141
+
+  Holland, Tom                          144
+
+  Holman, Eliza                         148
+
+  Holt, Larnce                          151
+
+  Homer, Bill                           153
+
+  Hooper, Scott                         157
+
+  Houston, Alice                        159
+
+  Howard, Josephine                     163
+
+  Hughes, Lizzie                        166
+
+  Hursey, Moses                         169
+
+  Hurt, Charley                         172
+
+
+  Ingram, Wash                          177
+
+
+  Jackson, Carter J.                    180
+
+  Jackson, James                        182
+
+  Jackson, Maggie                       185
+
+  Jackson, Martin                       187
+
+  Jackson, Nancy                        193
+
+  Jackson, Richard                      195
+
+  James, John                           198
+
+  Johns, Thomas                         201
+
+  Johns, Mrs. Thomas                    205
+
+  Johnson, Gus                          208
+
+  Johnson, Harry                        212
+
+  Johnson, James D.                     216
+
+  Johnson, Mary                         219
+
+  Johnson, Mary Ellen                   223
+
+  Johnson, Pauline,
+       and Boudreaux, Felice            225
+
+  Johnson, Spence                       228
+
+  Jones, Harriet                        231
+
+  Jones, Lewis                          237
+
+  Jones, Liza                           241
+
+  Jones, Lizzie                         246
+
+  Jones, Toby                           249
+
+
+  Kelly, Pinkie                         253
+
+  Kilgore, Sam                          255
+
+  Kinchlow, Ben                         260
+
+  Kindred, Mary                         285
+
+  King, Nancy                           288
+
+  King, Silvia                          290
+
+
+
+
+  ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                Facing page
+
+  Anderson and Minerva Edwards            5
+
+  Ann J. Edwards                         10
+
+  Mary Kincheon Edwards                  15
+
+  John Ellis                             21
+
+  Lorenza Ezell                          25
+
+  Betty Farrow                           33
+
+  Sarah Ford                             41
+
+  Louis Fowler                           50
+
+  Orelia Alexie Franks                   60
+
+  Priscilla Gibson                       66
+
+  Andrew Goodman                         74
+
+  Austin Grant                           81
+
+  James Green                            87
+
+  O.W. Green and Granddaughter           90
+
+  William Green, (Rev. Bill)             96
+
+  Pauline Grice                          98
+
+  Mandy Hadnot                          102
+
+  William Hamilton                      106
+
+  Felix Haywood                         130
+
+  Phoebe Henderson                      135
+
+  Albert Hill                           137
+
+  Eliza Holman                          148
+
+  Bill Homer                            153
+
+  Scott Hooper                          157
+
+  Alice Houston                         159
+
+  Moses Hursey                          169
+
+  Charley Hurt                          172
+
+  Wash Ingram                           177
+
+  Carter J. Jackson                     180
+
+  James Jackson                         182
+
+  Martin Jackson                        187
+
+  Richard Jackson                       195
+
+  John James                            198
+
+  Gus Johnson                           208
+
+  James D. Johnson                      216
+
+  Mary Ellen Johnson                    223
+
+  Pauline Johnson and Felice Boudreaux  225
+
+  Spence Johnson                        228
+
+  Harriet Jones                         231
+
+  Harriet Jones
+     with Daughter and Granddaughter    231
+
+  Lewis Jones                           237
+
+  Lizzie Jones                          246
+
+  Sam Kilgore                           255
+
+  Ben Kinchlow                          260
+
+  Mary Kindred                          285
+
+
+
+
+EX-SLAVE STORIES
+
+(Texas)
+
+
+
+
+420285
+
+
+     WILLIS EASTER, 85, was born near Nacogdoches, Texas. He does not
+     know the name of his first master. Frank Sparks brought Willis to
+     Bosqueville, Texas, when he was two years old. Willis believes
+     firmly in "conjuremen" and ghosts, and wears several charms for
+     protection against the former. He lives in Waco, Texas.
+
+
+"I's birthed below Nacogdoches, and dey tells me it am on March 19th, in
+1852. My mammy had some kind of paper what say dat. But I don't know my
+master, 'cause when I's two he done give me to Marse Frank Sparks and he
+brung me to Bosqueville. Dat sizeable place dem days. My mammy come
+'bout a month after, 'cause Marse Frank, he say I's too much trouble
+without my mammy.
+
+"Mammy de bes' cook in de county and a master hand at spinnin' and
+weavin'. She made her own dye. Walnut and elm makes red dye and walnut
+brown color, and shumake makes black color. When you wants yallow color,
+git cedar moss out de brake.
+
+"All de lint was picked by hand on our place. It a slow job to git dat
+lint out de cotton and I's gone to sleep many a night, settin' by de
+fire, pickin' lint. In bad weather us sot by de fire and pick lint and
+patch harness and shoes, or whittle out something, dishes and bowls and
+troughs and traps and spoons.
+
+"All us chillen weared lowel white duckin', homemake, jes' one garment.
+It was de long shirt. You couldn't tell gals from boys on de yard.
+
+"I's twelve when us am freed and for awhile us lived on Marse Bob
+Wortham's place, on Chalk Bluff, on Horseshoe Bend. After de freedom
+war, dat old Brazos River done change its course up 'bove de bend, and
+move to de west.
+
+"I marries Nancy Clark in 1879, but no chilluns. Dere plenty deer and
+bears and wild turkeys and antelopes here den. Dey's sho' fine eatin'
+and wish I could stick a tooth in one now. I's seed fifty antelope at a
+waterin' hole.
+
+"Dere plenty Indians, too. De Rangers had de time keepin' dem back. Dey
+come in bright of de moon and steals and kills de stock. Dere a ferry
+'cross de Brazos and Capt. Ross run it. He sho' fit dem Indians.
+
+"Dem days everybody went hossback and de roads was jes' trails and
+bridges was poles 'cross de creeks. One day us went to a weddin'. Dey
+sot de dinner table out in de yard under a big tree and de table was a
+big slab of a tree on legs. Dey had pewter plates and spoons and chiny
+bowls and wooden dishes. Some de knives and forks was make out of bone.
+Dey had beef and pork and turkey and some antelope.
+
+"I knows 'bout ghostes. First, I tells you a funny story. A old man
+named Josh, he purty old and notionate. Every evenin' he squat down
+under a oak tree. Marse Smith, he slip up and hear Josh prayin, 'Oh,
+Gawd, please take pore old Josh home with you.' Next day, Marse Smith
+wrop heself in a sheet and git in de oak tree. Old Josh come 'long and
+pray, 'Oh, Gawd, please come take pore old Josh home with you.' Marse
+say from top de tree, 'Poor Josh, I's come to take you home with me.'
+Old Josh, he riz up and seed dat white shape in de tree, and he yell,
+'Oh, Lawd, not right now, I hasn't git forgive for all my sins.' Old
+Josh, he jes' shakin' and he dusts out dere faster den a wink. Dat
+broke up he prayin' under dat tree.
+
+"I never studied cunjurin', but I knows dat scorripins and things dey
+cunjures with am powerful medicine. Dey uses hair and fingernails and
+tacks and dry insects and worms and bat wings and sech. Mammy allus tie
+a leather string round de babies' necks when dey teethin', to make dem
+have easy time. She used a dry frog or piece nutmeg, too.
+
+"Mammy allus tell me to keep from bein' cunjure, I sing:
+
+"'Keep 'way from me, hoodoo and witch,
+  Lend my path from de porehouse gate;
+  I pines for golden harps and sich,
+  Lawd, I'll jes' set down and wait.
+  Old Satan am a liar and cunjurer, too--
+  If you don't watch out, he'll cunjure you.'
+
+"Dem cunjuremen sho' bad. Dey make you have pneumony and boils and bad
+luck. I carries me a jack all de time. It em de charm wrop in red
+flannel. Don't know what am in it. A bossman, he fix it for me.
+
+"I sho' can find water for de well. I got a li'l tree limb what am like
+a V. I driv de nail in de end of each branch and in de crotch. I takes
+hold of each branch and iffen I walks over water in de ground, dat limb
+gwine turn over in my hand till it points to de ground. Iffen money am
+buried, you can find it de same way.
+
+"Iffen you fills a shoe with salt and burns it, dat call luck to you. I
+wears a dime on a string round de neck and one round de ankle. Dat to
+keep any conjureman from sottin' de trick on ma. Dat dime be bright
+iffen my friends am true. It sho' gwine git dark iffen dey does me
+wrong.
+
+"For to make a jack dat am sho' good, git snakeroot and sassafras and a
+li'l lodestone and brimstone and asafoetida and resin and bluestone and
+gum arabic and a pod or two red pepper. Put dis in de red flannel bag,
+at midnight on de dark of de moon, and it sho' do de work.
+
+"I knowed a ghost house, I sho' did. Everybody knowed it, a red brick
+house in Waco, on Thirteenth and Washington St. Dey calls it de Bell
+house. It sho' a fine, big house, but folks couldn't use it. De white
+folks what owns it, dey gits one nigger and 'nother to stay round and
+look after things. De white folks wants me to stay dere. I goes. Every
+Friday night dere am a rustlin' sound, like murmur of treetops, all
+through dat house. De shutters rattles--only dere ain't no shutters on
+dem windows. Jes' plain as anything, I hears a chair, rockin', rockin'.
+Footsteps, soft as de breath, you could hear dem plain. But I stays and
+hunts and can't find nobody nor nothin' none of dem Friday nights.
+
+"Den come de Friday night on de las' quarter de moon. Long 'bout
+midnight, something lift me out de cot. I heared a li'l child sobbin',
+and dat rocker git started, and de shutters dey rattle softlike, and dat
+rustlin', mournin' sound all through dat house. I takes de lantern and
+out in de hall I goes. Right by de foot de stairs I seed a woman, big as
+life, but she was thin and I seed right through her. She jes' walk on
+down dat hall and pay me no mind. She make de sound like de beatin' of
+wings. I jes' froze. I couldn't move.
+
+"Dat woman jes' melted out de window at de end of de hall, and I left
+dat place!
+
+
+
+
+420054
+
+
+[Illustration: Anderson and Minerva Edwards]
+
+
+     ANDERSON AND MINERVA EDWARDS, a Negro Baptist preacher and his
+     wife, were slaves on adjoining plantations in Rusk County, Texas.
+     Anderson was born March 12, 1844, a slave of Major Matt Gaud, and
+     Minerva was born February 2, 1850, a slave of Major Flannigan. As a
+     boy Andrew would get a pass to visit his father, who belonged to
+     Major Flannigan, and there he met Minerva. They worked for their
+     masters until three years after the war, then moved to Harrison
+     County, married and reared sixteen children. Andrew and Minerva
+     live in a small but comfortable farmhouse two miles north of
+     Marshall. Minerva's memory is poor, and she added little to
+     Anderson's story.
+
+
+"My father was Sandy Flannigan and he had run off from his first master
+in Maryland, on the east shore, and come to Texas, and here a slave
+buyer picked him up and sold chances on him. If they could find his
+Maryland master he'd have to go back to him and if they couldn't the
+chances was good. Wash Edwards in Panola County bought the chance on
+him, but he run off from him, too, and come to Major Flannigan's in Rusk
+County. Fin'ly Major Flannigan had to pay a good lot to get clear title
+to him.
+
+"My mammy was named Minerva and her master was Major Gaud, and I was
+born there on his plantation in 1866. You can ask that tax man at
+Marshall 'bout my age, 'cause he's fix my 'xemption papers since I'm
+sixty. I had seven brothers and two sisters. There was Frank, Joe, Sandy
+and Gene, Preston and William and Sarah and Delilah, and they all lived
+to be old folks and the younges' jus' died last year. Folks was more
+healthy when I growed up and I'm 93 now and ain't dead; fact is, I feels
+right pert mos' the time.
+
+"My missy named Mary and she and Massa Matt lived in a hewed log house
+what am still standin' out there near Henderson. Our quarters was 'cross
+the road and set all in a row. Massa own three fam'lies of slaves and
+lots of hosses and sheep and cows and my father herded for him till he
+was freed. The government run a big tan yard there on Major Gaud's place
+and one my uncles was shoemaker. Jus' 'bout time of war, I was piddlin'
+'round the tannery and a government man say to me, 'Boy, I'll give you
+$1,000 for a drink of water,' and he did, but it was 'federate money
+that got kilt, so it done me no good.
+
+"Mammy was a weaver and made all the clothes and massa give us plenty to
+eat; fact, he treated us kind-a like he own boys. Course he whipped us
+when we had to have it, but not like I seed darkies whipped on other
+place. The other niggers called us Major Gaud's free niggers and we
+could hear 'em moanin' and cryin' round 'bout, when they was puttin' it
+on 'em.
+
+"I worked in the field from one year end to t'other and when we come in
+at dusk we had to eat and be in bed by nine. Massa give us mos' anything
+he had to eat, 'cept biscuits. That ash cake wasn't sich bad eatin' and
+it was cooked by puttin' cornmeal batter in shucks and bakin' in the
+ashes.
+
+"We didn't work in the field Sunday but they have so much stock to tend
+it kep' us busy. Missy was 'ligious and allus took us to church when she
+could. When we prayed by ourse'ves we daren't let the white folks know
+it and we turned a wash pot down to the ground to cotch the voice. We
+prayed a lot to be free and the Lord done heered us. We didn't have no
+song books and the Lord done give us our songs and when we sing them at
+night it jus' whispering to nobody hear us. One went like this:
+
+"'my knee bones am aching,
+  my body's rackin' with pain,
+  i 'lieve i'm a chile of god,
+  and this ain't my home,
+  'cause heaven's my aim.'
+
+"Massa Gaud give big corn shuckin's and cotton pickin's and the women
+cook up big dinners and massa give us some whiskey, and lots of times we
+shucked all night. On Saturday nights we'd sing and dance and we made
+our own instruments, which was gourd fiddles and quill flutes. Gen'rally
+Christmas was like any other day, but I got Santa Claus twict in
+slavery, 'cause massa give me a sack of molasses candy once and some
+biscuits once and that was a whole lot to me then.
+
+"The Vinsons and Frys what lived next to massa sold slaves and I seed
+'em sold and chained together and druv off in herds by a white man on a
+hoss. They'd sell babies 'way from the mammy and the Lord never did
+'tend sich as that.
+
+"I 'lieve in that hant business yet. I seed one when I was a boy, right
+after mammy die. I woke up and seed it come in the door, and it had a
+body and legs and tail and a face like a man and it walked to the
+fireplace and lifted the lid off a skillet of 'taters what sot there and
+came to my bed and raised up the cover and crawled in and I hollers so
+loud it wakes everybody. I tell 'em I seed a ghost and they say I crazy,
+but I guess I knows a hant when I sees one. Minerva there can tell you
+'bout that haunted house we lived in near Marshall jus' after we's
+married." (Minerva says, 'Deed, I can,' and here is her story:)
+
+"The nex' year after Anderson and me marries we moves to a place that
+had 'longed to white folks and the man was real mean and choked his
+wife to death and he lef' the country and we moved in. We heered
+peculiar noises by night and the niggers 'round there done told us it
+was hanted but I didn't 'lieve 'em, but I do now. One night we seed the
+woman what died come all 'round with a light in the hand and the
+neighbors said that candle light the house all over and it look like it
+on fire. She come ev'ry night and we left our crop and moved 'way from
+there and ain't gone back yit to gather that crop. 'Fore we moved in
+that place been empty since the woman die, 'cause nobody live there. One
+night Charlie Williams, what lives in Marshall, and runs a store out by
+the T. & P. Hospital git drunk and goes out there to sleep and while he
+sleepin' that same woman come in and nigh choked him to death. Ain't
+nobody ever live in that house since we is there."
+
+Anderson then resumed his story: "I 'member when war starts and massa's
+boy, George it was, saddles up ole Bob, his pony, and lef'. He stays six
+months and when he rid up massa say, 'How's the war, George?' and massa
+George say, 'It's Hell. Me and Bob has been runnin' Yankees ever since
+us lef'.' 'Fore war massa didn't never say much 'bout slavery but when
+he heered us free he cusses and say, 'Gawd never did 'tend to free
+niggers,' and he cussed till he died. But he didn't tell us we's free
+till a whole year after we was, but one day a bunch of Yankee soldiers
+come ridin' up and massa and missy hid out. The soldiers walked into the
+kitchen and mammy was churnin' and one of them kicks the churn over and
+say, 'Git out, you's jus' as free as I is.' Then they ramsacked the
+place and breaks out all the window lights and when they leaves it look
+like a storm done hit that house. Massa come back from hidin' and that
+when he starts on a cussin' spree what lasts as long as he lives.
+
+"'bout four year after that war pappy took me to Harrison County and
+I've lived here ever, since and Minerva's pappy moves from the Flannigan
+place to a jinin' farm 'bout that time and sev'ral years later we was
+married. It was at her house and she had a blue serge suit and I wore a
+cutaway Prince Albert suit and they was 'bout 200 folks at our weddin'.
+The nex' day they give us an infair and a big dinner. We raises sixteen
+chillen to be growed and six of the boys is still livin' and workin' in
+Marshall.
+
+"I been preachin' the Gospel and farmin' since slavery time. I jined the
+church mos' 83 year ago when I was Major Gaud's slave and they baptises
+me in the spring branch clost to where I finds the Lord. When I starts
+preachin' I couldn't read or write and had to preach what massa told me
+and he say tell them niggers iffen they obeys the massa they goes to
+Heaven but I knowed there's something better for them, but daren't tell
+them 'cept on the sly. That I done lots. I tells 'em iffen they
+keeps prayin' the Lord will set 'em free. But
+since them days I's done studied some and I preached all over Panola and
+Harrison County and I started the Edward's Chapel over there in Marshall
+and pastored it till a few year ago. It's named for me.
+
+"I don't preach much now, 'cause I can't hold out to walk far and I got
+no other way to go. We has a $14.00 pension and lives on that and what
+we can raise on the farm.
+
+
+
+
+420219
+
+
+[Illustration: Ann J. Edwards]
+
+
+     ANN J. EDWARDS, 81, was born a slave of John Cook, of Arlington
+     County, Virginia. He manumitted his slaves in 1857. Four years
+     later Ann was adopted by Richard H. Cain, a colored preacher. He
+     was elected to the 45th Congress in 1876, and remained in
+     Washington, D.C., until his death, in 1887. Ann married Jas. E.
+     Edwards, graduate of Howard College, a preacher. She now lives with
+     her granddaughter, Mary Foster, at 804 E. 4th St., Fort Worth,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"I shall gladly relate the story of my life. I was born a slave on
+January 27th, 1856, and my master's name was John J. Cook, who was a
+resident of Arlington County, Virginia. He moved to Washington, D.C.,
+when I was nearly two years old and immediately gave my parents their
+freedom. They separated within a year after that, and my mother earned
+our living, working as a hairdresser until her death in 1861. I was then
+adopted by Richard H. Cain, a minister of the Gospel in the African
+Methodist Church.
+
+"I remember the beginning of the war well. The conditions made a deep
+impression on my mind, and the atmosphere of Washington was charged with
+excitement and expectations. There existed considerable need for
+assistance to the Negroes who had escaped after the war began, and Rev.
+Cain took a leading part in rendering aid to them. They came into the
+city without clothes or money and no idea of how to secure employment. A
+large number were placed on farms, some given employment as domestics
+and still others mustered into the Federal Army.
+
+"The city was one procession of men in blue and the air was full of
+martial music. The fife and drum could be heard almost all the time, so
+you may imagine what emotions a colored person of my age would
+experience, especially as father's church was a center for congregating
+the Negroes and advising them. That was a difficult task, because a
+large majority were illiterate and ignorant.
+
+"The year father was called to Charleston, South Carolina, to take
+charge of a church, we became the center of considerable trouble. It was
+right after the close of the war. In addition to his ministerial duties,
+father managed a newspaper and became interested in politics. He was
+elected a delegate to the Constitutional Convention of South Carolina in
+1868. He was also elected a Republican member of the State Senate and
+served from 1868 to 1872. Then he became the Republican candidate for
+the United States Representative of the Charleston district, was elected
+and served in the 45th Congress from March 4, 1877 to March 3, 1879.
+
+"You can imagine the bitter conflict his candidacy brought on. A Negro
+running for public office against a white person in a Southern state
+that was strong for slavery does not seem the sensible thing for a man
+to do, but he did and was, of course, successful. From the moment he
+became delegate to the Constitutional Convention a guard was necessary
+night and day to watch our home. He was compelled to have a bodyguard
+wherever he went. We, his family, lived in constant fear at all times.
+Many times mother pleaded with him to cease his activities, but her
+pleadings were of no avail.
+
+"In the beginning the resentment was not so pronounced. The white
+people were shocked and dejected over the outcome of the war, but
+gradually recovered. As they did, determination to establish order and
+prosperity developed, and they resented the Negro taking part in public
+affairs. On the other side of the cause was the excess and obstinate
+actions of some ignorant Negroes, acting under ill advice. Father was
+trying to prevent excesses being done by either side. He realized that
+the slaves were unfit, at that time, to take their place as dependable
+citizens, for the want of experience and wisdom, and that there would
+have to be mental development and wisdom learned by his race, and that
+such would only come by a gradual process.
+
+"He entered the contest in the interest of his own race, primarily, but
+as a whole, to do justice to all. No one could change his course. He
+often stated, 'It is by the Divine will that I am in this battle.'
+
+"The climax of the resentment against him took place when he was chosen
+Republican candidate to the House of Representatives. He had to maintain
+an armed guard at all times. Several times, despite these guards,
+attempts were made to either burn the house or injure some member of the
+family. If it had not been for the fact that the officials of the city
+and county were afraid of the federal government, which gave aid in
+protecting him, the mob would have succeeded in harming him.
+
+"A day or two before election a mob gathered suddenly in front of the
+house, and we all thought the end had come. Father sent us all upstairs,
+and said he would, if necessary, give himself up to the mob and let them
+satisfy their vengeance on him, to save the rest of us.
+
+"While he was talking, mother noticed another body of men in the alley.
+They were certainly sinister looking. Father told us to prepare for the
+worst, saying, 'What they plan to do is for those in front to engage
+the attention of ourselves and the guard, then those in the rear will
+fire the place and force us out.' He was calm throughout it all, but
+mother was greatly agitated and I was crying.
+
+"The chief of the guard called father for a parley. The mob leader
+demanded that father come out for a talk. Then the sheriff and deputies
+appeared and he addressed the crowd of men, and told them if harm came
+to us the city would be placed under martial law. The men then
+dispersed, after some discussion among themselves.
+
+"Father moved to Washington, took the oath of office and served until
+March 4th, 1879. He then received the appointment of Bishop of the
+African Methodist Church and served until his death in Washington, on
+Jan. 18th, 1887.
+
+"I began my schooling in Charleston and continued in Washington, where I
+entered Howard College, but did not continue until graduation. I met
+James E. Edwards, another student, who graduated in 1881, and my heart
+overruled my desire for an education. We married and he entered the
+ministry and was called to Dallas, Texas. He remained two years, then we
+were called to Los Angeles. The Negroes there were privileged to enter
+public eating establishments, but a cafe owner we patronized told us the
+following:
+
+"'After a time, I was compelled to refuse service to Negroes because
+they abused the privilege. They came in in a boisterous manner and
+crowded and shoved other patrons. It was due to a lack of wisdom and
+education.'
+
+"That was true. The white people tried to give the Negro his rights and
+he abused the privilege because he was ignorant, a condition he could
+not then help.
+
+"My husband and I were called to Kansas City in 1896 and from there to
+many other towns. Finally we came to Waco, and he had charge of a church
+there when he died, in 1927. We had a pleasant married life and I tried
+to do my duty as a pastor's wife and help elevate my race. We were
+blessed with three children, and the only one now living is in Boston,
+Massachusetts.
+
+"I now reside with my granddaughter, Mary Foster, and this shack is the
+best her husband can afford. In fact, we are living in destitute
+circumstances. It is depressing to me, after having lived a life in a
+comfortable home. It is the Lord's will and I must accept what is
+provided. There is a purpose for all things. I shall soon go to meet my
+Maker, with the satisfaction of having done my duty--first, to my race,
+second, to mankind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Note: The biography of Richard H. Cain is published in the
+     Biographical Directory of the American Congress.
+
+
+
+
+420008
+
+
+[Illustration: Mary Kincheon Edwards]
+
+
+     MARY KINCHEON EDWARDS says she was born on July 8, 1810, but she
+     has nothing to substantiate this claim. However, she is evidently
+     very old. Her memory is poor, but she knows she was reared by the
+     Kincheons, in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and that she spoke French
+     when a child. The Kincheons gave her to Felix Vaughn, who brought
+     her to Texas before the Civil War. Mary lives with Beatrice
+     Watters, near Austin, Texas.
+
+
+"When I's a li'l gal my name Mary Anne Kincheon and I's born on the
+eighth of July, in 1810. I lives with de Kincheon family over in
+Louisiana. Baton Rouge am de name of dat place. Dem Kincheons have
+plenty chillen. O, dey have so many chillen!
+
+"I don't 'member much 'bout dem days. I's done forgot so many things,
+but I 'members how de stars fell and how scared us was. Dem stars got to
+fallin' and was out 'fore dey hits de ground. I don't knew when dat was,
+but I's good size den.
+
+"I get give to Massa Felix Vaughn and he brung me to Texas. Dat long
+'fore de war for freedom, but I don't know de year. De most work I done
+for de Vaughns was wet nuss de baby son, what name Elijah. His mammy
+jes' didn't have 'nough milk for him.
+
+"Den I knit de socks and wash de clothes and sometimes I work in de
+fields. I he'ped make de baskets for de cotton. De man git white-oak
+wood and we lets it stay in de water for de night and de nex' mornin'
+and it soft and us split it in strips for makin' of de baskets.
+Everybody try see who could make de bes' basket.
+
+"Us pick 'bout 100 pound cotton in one basket. I didn't mind pickin'
+cotton, 'cause I never did have de backache. I pick two and three
+hunnert pounds a day and one day I picked 400. Sometime de prize give by
+massa to de slave what pick de most. De prize am a big cake or some
+clothes. Pickin' cotton not so bad, 'cause us used to it and have de
+fine time of it. I gits a dress one day and a pair shoes 'nother day for
+pickin' most. I so fast I take two rows at de time.
+
+"De women brung oil cloths to de fields, so dey make shady place for de
+chillen to sleep, but dem what big 'nough has to pick. Sometime dey sing
+
+  "'O--ho, I's gwine home,
+  And cuss de old overseer.'
+
+"Us have ash-hopper and uses drip-lye for make barrels soap and hominy.
+De way us test de lye am drap de egg in it and if de egg float de lye
+ready to put in de grease for makin' de soap. Us throwed greasy bones in
+de lye and dat make de bes' soap. De lye eat de bones.
+
+"Us boil wild sage and make tea and it smell good. It good for de fever
+and chills. Us git slippery elm out de bottom and chew it. Some chew it
+for bad feelin's and some jes' to be chewin'.
+
+"Sometimes us go to dances and missy let me wear some her jewl'ry. I out
+dances dem all and folks didn't know dat not my jewl'ry. After freedom I
+stays with de Vaughns and marries, but I forgit he name. Dat 'fore
+freedom. After freedom I marries Osburn Edwards and has five chillen.
+Dey all dead now. I can still git 'round with dis old gnarly cane. Jes'
+you git me good and scared and see how fast I can git 'round!"
+
+
+
+
+420266
+
+
+     LUCINDA ELDER, 86, was born a slave of the Cardwell family, near
+     Concord Deport, Virginia. She came to Texas with Will Jones and his
+     wife, Miss Susie, in 1860, and was their nurse-girl until she
+     married Will Elder, in 1875. Lucinda lives at 1007 Edwards St.,
+     Houston, Texas.
+
+
+"You chilluns all go 'way now, while I talks to dis gen'man. I 'clares
+to goodness, chilluns nowadays ain't got no manners 'tall. 'Tain't like
+when I was li'l, dey larnt you manners and you larnt to mind, too.
+Nowadays you tell 'em to do somethin' and you is jes' wastin' you
+breath, 'less you has a stick right handy. Dey is my great
+grandchilluns, and dey sho' is spoilt. Maybe I ain't got no patience no
+more, like I use to have, 'cause dey ain't so bad.
+
+"Well, suh, you all wants me to tell you 'bout slave times, and I'll
+tell you first dat I had mighty good white folks, and I hope dey is gone
+up to Heaven. My mama 'long to Marse John Cardwell, what I hear was de
+riches' man and had de bigges' plantation round Concord Depot. Dat am in
+Campbell County, in Virginny. I don't 'member old missy's name, but she
+mighty good to de slaves, jes' like Marse John was.
+
+"Mama's name was Isabella and she was de cook and born right on de
+plantation. Papa's name was Gibson, his first name was Jim, and he 'long
+to Marse Gibson what had a plantation next to Marse John, and I knows
+papa come to see mama on Wednesday and Sat'day nights.
+
+"Lemme see, now, dere was six of us chilluns. My mem'ry ain't so good no
+more, but Charley was oldes', den come Dolly and Jennie and Susie and me
+and Laura. Law me, I guess old Dr. Bass, what was doctor for Marse John,
+use to be right busy with us 'bout once a year for quite a spell.
+
+"Dem times dey don't marry by no license. Dey takes a slave man and
+woman from de same plantation and puts 'em together, or sometime a man
+from 'nother plantation, like my papa and mama. Mamma say Marse John
+give 'em a big supper in de big house and read out de Bible 'bout
+obeyin' and workin' and den dey am married. Course, de nigger jes' a
+slave and have to do what de white folks say, so dat way of marryin'
+'bout good as any.
+
+"But Marse John sho' was de good marse and we had plenty to eat and wear
+and no one ever got whipped. Marse John say iffen he have a nigger what
+oughta be whipped, he'd git rid of him quick, 'cause a bad nigger jes'
+like a rotten 'tater in a sack of good ones--it spoil de others.
+
+"Back dere in Virginny it sho' git cold in winter, but come September de
+wood gang git busy cuttin' wood and haulin' it to de yard. Dey makes two
+piles, one for de big house and de bigges' pile for de slaves. When dey
+git it all hauled it look like a big woodyard. While dey is haulin', de
+women make quilts and dey is wool quilts. Course, dey ain't made out of
+shearin' wool, but jes' as good. Marse John have lots of sheep and when
+dey go through de briar patch de wool cotch on dem briars and in de fall
+de women folks goes out and picks de wool off de briars jes' like you
+picks cotton. Law me, I don't know nothin' 'bout makin' quilts out of
+cotton till I comes to Texas.
+
+"Course I never done no work, 'cause Marse John won't work no one till
+dey is fifteen years old. Den dey works three hours a day and dat all.
+Dey don't work full time till dey's eighteen. We was jes' same as free
+niggers on our place. He gives each slave a piece of ground to make de
+crop on and buys de stuff hisself. We growed snap beans and corn and
+plant on a light moon, or turnips and onions we plant on de dark moon.
+
+"When I gits old 'nough Marse John lets me take he daughter, Nancy Lee,
+to school. It am twelve miles and de yard man hitches up old Bess to de
+buggy and we gits in and no one in dat county no prouder dan what I was.
+
+"Marse John lets us go visit other plantations and no pass, neither.
+Iffen de patterroller stop us, we jes' say we 'long to Marse John and
+dey don't bother us none. Iffen dey comes to our cabin from other
+plantations, dey has to show de patterroller de pass, and iffen dey
+slipped off and ain't got none, de patterroller sho' give a whippin'
+den. But dey waits till dey off our place, 'cause Marse John won't 'low
+no whippin' on our place by no one.
+
+"Well, things was jes' 'bout de same all de time till jes' 'fore
+freedom. Course, I hears some talk 'bout bluebellies, what dey call de
+Yanks, fightin' our folks, but dey wasn't fightin' round us. Den one dey
+mamma took sick and she had hear talk and call me to de bed and say,
+'Lucinda, we all gwine be free soon and not work 'less we git paid for
+it.' She sho' was right, 'cause Marse John calls all us to de cookhouse
+and reads de freedom papers to us and tells us we is all free, but iffen
+we wants to stay he'll give us land to make a crop and he'll feed us.
+Now I tells you de truth, dey wasn't no one leaves, 'cause we all loves
+Marse John.
+
+"Den, jus' three weeks after freedom mama dies and dat how come me to
+leave Marse John. You see, Marse Gibson what owns papa 'fore freedom,
+was a good marse and when papa was sot free Marse Gibson gives him some
+land to farm. 'Course, papa was gwine have us all with him, but when
+mamma dies, Marse Gibson tell him Mr. Will Jones and Miss Susie, he
+wife, want a nurse girl for de chilluns, so papa hires me out to 'em and
+I want to say right now, dey jes' as good white folks as Marse John and
+Old Missy, and sho' treated me good.
+
+"Law me, I never won't forgit one day. Mr. Will say, 'Lucinda, we is
+gwine drive you over to Appomatox and take de chilluns and you can come,
+too.' Course, I was tickled mos' to pieces but he didn't tell what he
+gwine for. You know what? To see a nigger hung. I gettin' long mighty
+old now, but I won't never forgit dat. He had kilt a man, and I never
+saw so many people 'fore, what dere to see him hang. I jes' shut my
+eyes.
+
+"Den Mr. Will he take me to de big tree what have all de bark strip off
+it and de branches strip off, and say, 'Lucinda, dis de tree where Gen.
+Lee surrendered.' I has put dese two hands right on dat tree, yes, suh,
+I sho' has.
+
+"Miss Susie say one day, 'Lucinda, how you like to go with us to Texas?'
+Law me, I didn't know where Texas was at, or nothin', but I loved Mr.
+Will and Miss Susie and de chilluns was all wrop up in me, so I say I'll
+go. And dat how come I'm here, and I ain't never been back, and I ain't
+see my own sisters and brother and papa since.
+
+"We come to New Orleans on de train and takes de boat on de Gulf to
+Galveston and den de train to Hempstead. Mr. Will farm at first and den
+he and Miss Susie run de hotel, and I stays with dem till I gets married
+to Will Elder in '75, and I lives with him till de good Lawd takes him
+home.
+
+"I has five chilluns but all dead now, 'ceptin' two. I done served de
+Lawd now for 64 years and soon he's gwine call old Lucinda, but I'm
+ready and I know I'll be better off when I die and go to Heaven, 'cause
+I'm old and no 'count now.
+
+
+
+
+420024
+
+
+[Illustration: John Ellis]
+
+
+     JOHN ELLIS, was born June 26, 1852, a slave of the Ellis family in
+     Johnson County near Cleburne, Texas. He remained with his white
+     folks and was paid by the month for his labor for one year after
+     freedom, when his master died and his mistress returned to
+     Mississippi. He worked as a laborer for many years around Cleburne,
+     coming to San Angelo, Texas in 1928. He now lives alone and is very
+     active for his age.
+
+
+John relates:
+
+"My father and mother, John and Fannie Ellis, were sold in Springfield,
+Missouri, to my marster, Parson Ellis, and taken away from all their
+people and brought to Johnson County, Texas.
+
+"My marster, he was a preacher and a good man. None of de slaves ever
+have better white folks den we did.
+
+"We had good beds and good food and dey teaches us to read and write
+too. De buffalo and de antelope and de deer was mos' as thick as de
+cattle now, and we was sent out after dem, so we would always have
+plenty of fresh meat. We had hogs and cattle too. Any of dem what was
+not marked was just as much ours as iffen we had raised dem, 'cause de
+range was all free.
+
+"Some of de fish we would catch out of dat Brazos River would be so big
+dey would pull us in but finally we would manage to gits dem out. De
+rabbits and de 'possum was plentiful too and wid de big garden what our
+marster had for us all, we sho' had good to eat.
+
+"I's done all kinds of work what it takes to run a fa'm. My boss he had
+only fourteen slaves and what was called a small fa'm, compared wid de
+big plantations. After our days work was done we would set up at night
+and pick de seed out of de cotton so dey could spin it into thread. Den
+we goes out and gits different kinds of bark and boils it to git dye for
+de thread 'fore it was spinned into cloth. De chillun jes' have long
+shirts and slips made out of dis home spun and we makes our shoes out of
+rawhide, and Lawdy! Dey was so hard we would have to warm dem by de fire
+and grease dem wid tallow to ever wear dem 'tall.
+
+"We had good log huts and our boss had a bigger log house. We never did
+work long into de night and long 'fore day like I hear tell some did. We
+didn' have none of dem drivers and when we done anything very bad old
+marster he whoop us a little but we never got hurt.
+
+"I didn' see no slaves sold. Dat was done, I hear, but not so much in
+Texas. I never did see no jails nor chains nor nothin' like dat either,
+but I hears 'bout dem.
+
+"We never worked Sat'days and de colored went to church wid de whites
+and jine de church too, but dey never baptized dem so far as I knows.
+
+"We had lots to eat and big times on Christmas, mos' as big as when de
+white folks gits married. Umph, um! One of de gi'ls got married once and
+she had such a long train on dat weddin' gown 'til me and my sister, we
+have to walks along behind her and carry dat thing, all of us a-walkin'
+on a strip of nice cloth from de carriage to de church. We sho' have de
+cakes and all dem good eats at dem weddin' suppers.
+
+"I nev'r hear tell of many colored weddin's. We jes' jumps over de broom
+an' de bride she has to jump over it backwards and iffen she couldn'
+jump it backwards she couldn't git married. Dat was sho' funny, seein'
+dem colored gi'ls a tryin' to jump dat broom.
+
+"Our boss, he tells us 'bout bein' free and he say he hire us by de
+month and we stays dere a year and he dies, den ole miss she go back to
+Mississippi and we jes' scatter 'round, some a workin' here and some a
+workin' yonder, mos' times for our victuals and clothes. I couldn' tell
+much difference myself 'cause I had good people to live wid and when it
+was dat way de whites and de colored was better off de way I sees it
+den dey is now, some of dem.
+
+"I seem jes' punyin' away, de doctors don' know jes' what's wrong wid me
+but I never was use to doctors anyway, jes' some red root tea or sage
+weed and sheep waste tea for de measles am all de doctoring we gits when
+we was slaves and dat done jes' as well.
+
+"My wife she been dead all dese years an' I jes' lives here alone.
+
+"Chillun? No mam, I never had no chillun 'fore I was married an' I only
+had twelve after I was married; yes mam, jes' nine boys and three girls,
+but I prefers to live here by myself, 'cause I gits along alright."
+
+
+
+
+420945
+
+
+[Illustration: Lorenza Ezell]
+
+
+     LORENZA EZELL, Beaumont, Texas, Negro, was born in 1850 on the
+     plantation of Ned Lipscomb, in Spartanburg County, South Carolina.
+     Lorenza is above the average in intelligence and remembers many
+     incidents of slavery and Reconstruction days. He came to Brenham,
+     Texas, in 1882, and several years later moved to Beaumont, where he
+     lives in a little shack almost hidden by vines and trees.
+
+
+"Us plantation was jes' east from Pacolet Station on Thicketty Creek, in
+Spartanburg County, in South Carolina. Dat near Little and Big Pacolet
+Rivers on de route to Limestone Springs, and it jes' a ordinary
+plantation with de main crops cotton and wheat.
+
+"I 'long to de Lipscombs and my mama, Maria Ezell, she 'long to 'em,
+too. Old Ned Lipscomb was 'mongst de oldest citizens of dat county. I's
+born dere on July 29th, in 1850 and I be 87 year old dis year. Levi
+Ezell, he my daddy, and he 'long to Landrum Ezell, a Baptist preacher.
+Dat young massa and de old massa, John Ezell, was de first Baptist
+preacher I ever heered of. He have three sons, Landrum and Judson and
+Bryson. Bryson have gif' for business and was right smart of a orator.
+
+"Dey's fourteen niggers on de Lipscomb place. Dey's seven of us chillen,
+my mamma, three uncle and three aunt and one man what wasn't no kin to
+us. I was oldest of de chillen, and dey called Sallie and Carrie and
+Alice and Jabus and Coy and LaFate and Rufus and Nelson.
+
+"Old Ned Lipscomb was one de best massa in de whole county. You know dem
+old patterrollers, dey call us 'Old Ned's free niggers,' and sho' hate
+us. Dey cruel to us, 'cause dey think us have too good a massa. One time
+dey cotch my uncle and beat him most to death.
+
+"Us go to work at daylight, but us wasn't 'bused. Other massas used to
+blow de horn or ring de bell, but massa, he never use de horn or de
+whip. All de man folks was 'lowed raise a garden patch with tobaccy or
+cotton for to sell in de market. Wasn't many massas what 'lowed dere
+niggers have patches and some didn't even feed 'em enough. Dat's why dey
+have to git out and hustle at night to git food for dem to eat.
+
+"De old massa, he 'sisted us go to church. De Baptist church have a shed
+built behind de pulpit for cullud folks, with de dirt floor and split
+log seat for de women folks, but most de men folks stands or kneels on
+de floor. Dey used to call dat de coop. De white preacher back to us,
+but iffen he want to he turn 'round and talk to us awhile. Us mess up
+songs, 'cause us couldn't read or write. I 'member dis one:
+
+  'De rough, rocky road what Moses done travel,
+  I's bound to carry my soul to de Lawd;
+  It's a mighty rocky road but I mos' done travel,
+  And I's bound to carry my soul to de Lawd.'
+
+"Us sing 'Sweet Chariot,' but us didn't sing it like dese days. Us sing:
+
+  'Swing low, sweet chariot,
+  Freely let me into rest,
+  I don't want to stay here no longer;
+  Swing low, sweet chariot,
+  When Gabriel make he las' alarm
+  I wants to be rollin' in Jesus arm,
+  'Cause I don't want to stay here no longer.'
+
+Us sing 'nother song what de Yankees take dat tune and make a hymm out
+of it. Sherman army sung it, too. We have it like dis:
+
+  'Our bodies bound to morter and decay,
+  Our bodies bound to morter and decay,
+  Our bodies bound to morter and decay,
+  But us souls go marchin' home.'
+
+"Befo' de war I jes' big 'nough to drap corn and tote water. When de
+little white chillen go to school 'bout half mile, I wait till noon and
+run all de way up to de school to run base when dey play at noon. Dey
+sev'ral young Lipscombs, dere Smith and Bill and John and Nathan, and de
+oldest son, Elias.
+
+"In dem days cullud people jes' like mules and hosses. Dey didn't have
+no last name. My mamma call me after my daddy's massa, Ezell. Mamma was
+de good woman and I 'member her more dan once rockin' de little cradle
+and singin' to de baby. Dis what she sing:
+
+  "Milk in de dairy nine days old,
+  Sing-song Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+  Frogs and skeeters gittin' mighty bol!
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+
+  (Chorus)
+
+  Keemo, kimo, darro, wharro,
+  With me hi, me ho;
+  In come Sally singin'
+    Sometime penny winkle,
+  Lingtum nip cat,
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+
+  Dere a frog live in a pool,
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+  Sure he was de bigges' fool,
+  Sing-song Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+
+  For he could dance and he could sing
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+  And make de woods aroun' him ring
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?'
+
+"Old massa didn't hold with de way some mean massas treat dey niggers.
+Dere a place on our plantation what us call 'De old meadow.' It was
+common for runaway niggers to have place 'long de way to hide and res'
+when dey run off from mean massa. Massa used to give 'em somethin' to
+eat when dey hide dere. I saw dat place operated, though it wasn't
+knowed by dat den, but long time after I finds out dey call it part of
+de 'Underground railroad.' Dey was stops like dat all de way up to de
+north.
+
+"We have went down to Columbia when I 'bout 11 year old and dat where de
+first gun fired. Us rush back home, but I could say I heered de first
+guns of de war shot, at Fort Sumter.
+
+"When Gen'ral Sherman come 'cross de Savannah River in South Carolina,
+some of he sojers come right 'cross us plantation. All de neighbors have
+brung dey cotton and stack it in de thicket on de Lipscomb place.
+Sherman men find it and sot it on fire. Dat cotton stack was big as a
+little courthouse and it took two months' burnin'.
+
+"My old massa run off and stay in de woods a whole week when Sherman men
+come through. He didn't need to worry, 'cause us took care of
+everythin'. Dey a funny song us make up 'bout him runnin' off in de
+woods. I know it was make up, 'cause my uncle have a hand in it. It went
+like dis:
+
+  'White folks, have you seed old massa
+  Up de road, with he mustache on?
+  He pick up he hat and he leave real sudden
+  And I 'lieve he's up and gone.
+
+  (Chorus)
+
+  'Old massa run away
+  And us darkies stay at home.
+  It mus' be now dat Kingdom's comin'
+  And de year of Jubilee.
+
+  'He look up de river and he seed dat smoke
+  Where de Lincoln gunboats lay.
+  He big 'nuff and he old 'nuff and he orter know better,
+  But he gone and run away.
+
+  'Now dat overseer want to give trouble
+  And trot us 'round a spell,
+  But we lock him up in de smokehouse cellar,
+  With de key done throwed in de well.'
+
+"Right after dat I start to be boy what run mail from camp to camp for
+de sojers. One time I capture by a bunch of deserters what was hidin' in
+de woods 'long Pacolet River. Dey didn't hurt me, though, but dey mos'
+scare me to death. Dey parole me and turn me loose.
+
+"All four my young massas go to de war, all but Elias. He too old.
+Smith, he kilt at Manassas Junction. Nathan he git he finger shot at de
+first round at Fort Sumter. But when Billy was wounded at Howard Gap in
+North Carolina and dey brung him home with he jaw split open, I so mad I
+could have kilt all de Yankees. I say I be happy iffen I could kill me
+jes' one Yankee. I hated dem 'cause dey hurt my white people. Billy was
+disfigure awful when he jaw split and he teeth all shine through he
+cheek.
+
+"After war was over, old massa call us up and told us we free but he
+'vise not leave de place till de crop was through. Us all stay. Den us
+select us homes and move to it. Us folks move to Sam Littlejohn's, north
+of Thickettty Creek, where us stay two year. Den us move back to Billy
+Lipscomb, de young massa, and stay dere two more year. I's right smart
+good banjo picker in dem day. I kin 'member one dem songs jes' as good
+today as when I pick it. Dat was:
+
+  'Early in de mornin'
+  Don't you hear de dogs a-barkin'?
+  Bow, wow, wow!
+
+  (Chorus)
+
+  'Hush, hush, boys
+  Don't make a noise,
+  Massa's fast a-sleepin'.
+  Run to de barnyard
+  Wake up de boys
+  Let's have banjo pickin.'.
+
+  'Early in de mornin'
+  Don't you hear dem roosters crowin'?
+  Cock-a-doodle-do.
+
+"I come in contac' with de Klu Klux. Us lef' de plantation in '65 or '66
+and by '68 us was havin' sich a awful time with de Klu Klux. First time
+dey come to my mamma's house at midnight and claim dey sojers done come
+back from de dead. Dey all dress up in sheets and make up like spirit.
+Dey groan 'round and say dey been kilt wrongly and come back for
+justice. One man, he look jus' like ordinary man, but he spring up 'bout
+eighteen feet high all of a sudden. Another say he so thirsty he ain't
+have no water since he been kilt at Manassas Junction. He ask for water
+and he jes' kept pourin' it in. Us think he sho' must be a spirit to
+drink dat much water. Course he not drinkin' it, he pourin' it in a bag
+under he sheet. My mama never did take up no truck with spirits so she
+knowed it jes' a man. Dey tell us what dey gwine do iffen we don't all
+go back to us massas and us all 'grees and den dey all dis'pear.
+
+"Den us move to New Prospect on de Pacolet River, on de Perry Clemmons'
+place. Dat in de upper edge of de county and dat where de second swarm
+of de Klu Klux come out. Dey claim dey gwine kill everybody what am
+Repub'can. My daddy charge with bein' a leader 'mongst de niggers. He
+make speech and 'struct de niggers how to vote for Grant's first
+'lection. De Klu Klux want to whip him and he have to sleep in a holler
+log every night.
+
+"Dey's a old man name Uncle Bart what live 'bout half mile from us. De
+Klu Klux come to us house one night, but my daddy done hid. Den I hear
+dem say dey gwine go kill old man Bart. I jump out de window and cut
+short cut through dem wood and warn him. He git out de house in time and
+I save he life. De funny thing, I knowed all dem Klu Klux. Spite dey
+sheets and things, I knowed dey voices and dey saddle hosses.
+
+"Dey one white man name Irving Ramsey. Us play fiddle together lots of
+time. When de white boys dance dey allus wants me to go to play for dey
+party. One day I say to dat boy, 'I done knowed you last night.' He say,
+'What you mean?' I say, 'You one dem Klu Klux.' He want to know how I
+know. I say, 'Member when you go under de chestnut tree and say, "Whoa,
+Sont, whoa, Sont, to your hoss?" He say, 'Yes,' and I laugh and say,
+'Well, I's right up in dat tree.' Dey all knowed I knowed dem den, but I
+never told on dem. When dey seed I ain't gwineter tell, dey never try
+whip my daddy or kill Uncle Bart no more.
+
+"I ain't never been to school but I jes' picked up readin'. With some my
+first money I ever earn I buy me a old blue-back Webster. I carry dat
+book wherever I goes. When I plows down a row I stop at de end to rest
+and den I overlook de lesson. I 'member one de very first lessons was,
+'Evil communications 'rupts good morals.' I knowed de words 'evil' and
+'good' and a white man 'splain de others. I been done use dat lesson all
+my life.
+
+"After us left de Pacolet River us stay in Atlanta a little while and
+den I go on to Louisiana. I done lef' Spartanburg completely in '76 but
+I didn't git into Texas till 1882. I fin'lly git to Brenham, Texas and
+marry Rachel Pinchbeck two year after. Us was marry in church and have
+seven chillen. Den us sep'rate. I been batching 'bout 20 year and I done
+los' track mos' dem chillen. My gal, Lula, live in Beaumont, and Will,
+he in Chicago.
+
+"Every time I tells dese niggers I's from South Carolina dey all say,
+'O, he bound to make a heap.' I could be a conjure doctor and make
+plenty money, but dat ain't good. In slavery time dey's men like dat
+'garded as bein' dangerous. Dey make charms and put bad mouth on you. De
+old folks wears de rabbit foot or coon foot and sometime a silver dime
+on a fishin' string to keep off de witches. Some dem old conjure people
+make lots of money for charm 'gainst ruin or cripplin' or dry up de
+blood. But I don't take up no truck with things like dat.
+
+
+
+
+420093
+
+
+[Illustration: Betty Farrow]
+
+
+     BETTY FARROW, 90, now living with a son on a farm in Moser Valley,
+     a Negro settlement ten miles northeast of Fort Worth on Texas
+     Highway No. 15, was born a slave to Mr. Alex Clark, plantation
+     owner in Patrick Co., Virginia.
+
+
+"I's glad to tell what I knows, but yous have to 'scuse me, 'cause my
+'collection am bad. I jus' don' 'member much, but I's bo'n on Masta Alex
+Clark's plantation in Patrick County, Virginny, on June 28th, 1847.
+Dat's what my mammy tol' me. You see, we cullud folks have no schoolin'
+dem days and I can't read or write. I has to depen' on what folks tells
+me.
+
+"Masta Clark has right smart plantation in ole Virginny and he owns
+'bout twenty other slaves dat wo'ked de big place. He had three girls
+and four boys and when I's a chile we'uns played togedder and we'uns
+'tached to each other all our lives.
+
+"In mammy's family dere was five boys and four girls. I don' 'member my
+pappy. When I's 'bout ten, I's set to work, peddalin' 'round de house.
+
+"'bout three years 'fore de war marster sol' his plantation for to go to
+Texas. I 'members de day we'uns started in three covered wagons, all
+loaded. 'Twas celebration day for us chillun. We travels from daylight
+to dark, 'cept to feed and res' de mules at noon. I don' rec'lec' how
+long we was on de way, but 'twas long time and 'twarn't no celebration
+towards de las'. After while we comes to Sherman, in Texas, to our new
+farm.
+
+"When we was dere 'bout a year, dere am heaps of trouble. Dere was a
+neighbor, Shields, he's drivin' wood to town and goes n'cross masta's
+yard and dey have arg'ments. One day we chillen playin' and masta
+settin' on de front porch and Shields come up de road. Masta stops him
+when he starts to cross de yard and de fust thing we knows, we hears
+'bang' and dat Shields shoot de masta and we sees him fall. Dey sen's
+young Alex for de doctor and he makes dat mule run like he never run
+'fore. De doctor comes in de house and looks at de masta, and listens to
+his heart and says, 'He am dead.' Dere was powerful sorrow in dat home.
+
+"After dat, Masta Alex takes charge, and in 'bout one year, he says,
+'We'uns goin' to Fort Worth.' So we goes, and if I rec'lec's right, dat
+year de war started. After dat, dere was times dere wasn' enough to make
+de clothes, but we'uns allus had plenty to eat, and we gives lots of
+feed to de army mans.
+
+"I don' 'member bein' tol' I's free. We'uns stayed right dere on de farm
+'cause it was de only home we knew and no reason to go. I stays dere
+till I's twenty-seven years ole, den I marries and my husban' rents
+land. We'uns has ten chillun and sometimes we has to skimp, but we gets
+on. When my husban' dies fifteen years ago, I comes here. I's allus been
+too busy tendin' to my 'sponsibilities for to git in de debilmen' and
+now I's happy, tendin' to my great gran'chile.
+
+
+
+
+420147
+
+
+     JOHN FINNELY, 86, was born a slave to Martin Finnely, in Jackson
+     Co., Alabama. During the Civil War ten slaves escaped from the
+     Finnely plantation. Their success led John to escape. He joined the
+     Federal Army. John farmed from 1865 until 1917, then moved to Fort
+     Worth, Tex., and worked in packing plants until 1930. He now lives
+     at 2812 Cliff St., Fort Worth, his sole support a $17.00 monthly
+     pension.
+
+
+"Alabama am de state where I's born and dat 86 year ago, in Jackson
+County, on Massa Martin Finnely's plantation, and him owns 'bout 75
+other slaves 'sides mammy and me. My pappy am on dat plantation but I
+don't know him, 'cause mammy never talks 'bout him 'cept to say, 'He am
+here.'
+
+"Massa run de cotton plantation but raises stock and feed and corn and
+cane and rations for de humans sich as us. It am diff'rent when I's a
+young'un dan now. Den, it am needful for to raise everything yous need,
+'cause dey couldn't 'pend on factory made goods. Dey could buy shoes and
+clothes and sich, but we'uns could make dem so much cheaper.
+
+"What we'uns make? 'Low me to 'collect a li'l. Let's see, we'uns make
+shoes, and leather and clothes and cloth and grinds de meal. And we'uns
+cures de meat, preserves de fruit and make 'lassas and brown sugar. All
+de harness for de mules and de hosses is make and de carts for haulin'.
+Am dat all? Oh, yes, massa make peach brandy and him have he own still.
+
+"De work am 'vided 'twixt de cullud folks and us allus have certain
+duties to do. I's am de field hand and befo' I's old 'nough for to do
+dat, dey has me help with de chores and errands.
+
+"Us have de cabins of logs with one room and one door and one window
+hole and bunks for sleepin'. But no cookin' am done dere. It am done in
+de cookhouse by de cooks for all us niggers and we'uns eats in de eatin'
+shed. De rations am good, plain victuals and dere plenty of it and 'bout
+twict a week dere somethin' for treat. Massa sho' am 'ticular 'bout
+feedin', 'specially for de young'uns in de nursery. You see, dere am de
+nursery for sich what needs care while dere mammies am a-workin'.
+
+"Massa feed plenty and him 'mand plenty work. Dat cause heap of trouble
+on dat plantation, 'cause whippin's am given and hard ones, too. Lots of
+times at de end of de day I's so tired I's couldn't speak for to stop de
+mule, I jus' have to lean back on de lines.
+
+"Dis nigger never gits whupped 'cept for dis, befo' I's a field hand.
+Massa use me for huntin' and use me for de gun rest. When him have de
+long shot I bends over and puts de hands on de knees and massa puts his
+gun on my back for to git de good aim. What him kills I runs and fotches
+and carries de game for him. I turns de squirrels for him and dat
+disaway: de squirrel allus go to udder side from de hunter and I walks
+'round de tree and de squirrel see me and go to massa's side de tree and
+he gits de shot.
+
+"All dat not so bad, but when he shoots de duck in de water and I has to
+fotch it out, dat give me de worryment. De fust time he tells me to go
+in de pond I's skeert, powe'ful skeert. I takes off de shirt and pants
+but there I stands. I steps in de water, den back 'gain, and 'gain.
+Massa am gittin' mad. He say, 'Swim in dere and git dat duck.' 'Yes,
+sar, massa,' I says, but I won't go in dat water till massa hit me some
+licks. I couldn't never git use to bein' de water dog for de ducks.
+
+"De worst whuppin' I seed was give to Clarinda. She hits massa with de
+hoe 'cause he try 'fere with her and she try stop him. She am put on de
+log and give 500 lashes. She am over dat log all day and when dey takes
+her off, she am limp and act deadlike. For a week she am in de bunk. Dat
+whuppin' cause plenty trouble and dere lots of arg'ments 'mong de white
+folks 'round dere.
+
+"We has some joyments on de plantation, no parties or dancin' but we has
+de corn huskin' and de nigger fights. For de corn huskin' everybody come
+to one place and dey gives de prize for findin' de red ear. On massa's
+place de prize am brandy or you am 'lowed to kiss de gal you calls for.
+While us huskin' us sing lots. No, no, I's not gwine sing any dem songs,
+'cause I's forgit and my voice sound like de bray of de mule.
+
+"De nigger fights am more for de white folks' joyment but de slaves am
+'lowed to see it. De massas of plantations match dere niggers 'cording
+to size and bet on dem. Massa Finnely have one nigger what weighs 'bout
+150 pounds and him powerful good fighter and he like to fight. None
+lasts long with him. Den a new niggers comes to fight him.
+
+"Dat fight am held at night by de pine torch light. A ring am made by de
+folks standin' 'round in de circle. Deys 'lowed to do anything with dey
+hands and head and teeth. Nothin' barred 'cept de knife and de club. Dem
+two niggers gits in de ring and Tom he starts quick, and dat new nigger
+he starts jus' as quick. Dat 'sprise Tom and when dey comes togedder it
+like two bulls--kersmash--it sounds like dat. Den it am hit and kick and
+bite and butt anywhere and any place for to best de udder. De one on de
+bottom bites knees or anything him can do. Dat's de way it go for half
+de hour.
+
+"Fin'ly dat new nigger gits Tom in de stomach with he knee and a lick
+side de jaw at de same time and down go Tom and de udder nigger jumps on
+him with both feets, den straddle him and hits with right, left, right,
+left, right, side Tom's head. Dere Tom lay, makin' no 'sistance.
+Everybody am saysin', 'Tom have met he match, him am done.' Both am
+bleedin' and am awful sight. Well, dat new nigger 'laxes for to git he
+wind and den Tom, quick like de flash, flips him off and jump to he feet
+and befo' dat new nigger could git to he feet, Tom kicks him in de
+stomach, 'gain and 'gain. Dat nigger's body start to quaver and he massa
+say, 'Dat 'nough.' Dat de clostest Tom ever come to gittin' whupped what
+I's know of.
+
+"I becomes a runaway nigger short time after dat fight. De war am
+started den for 'bout a year, or somethin' like dat, and de Fed'rals am
+north of us. I hears de niggers talk 'bout it, and 'bout runnin' 'way to
+freedom. I thinks and thinks 'bout gittin' freedom, and I's gwine run
+off. Den I thinks of de patter rollers and what happen if dey cotches me
+off de place without de pass. Den I thinks of some joyment sich as de
+corn huskin' and de fights and de singin' and I don't know what to do. I
+tells you one singin' but I can't sing it:
+
+  "'De moonlight, a shinin' star,
+  De big owl hootin' in de tree;
+  O, bye, my baby, ain't you gwineter sleep,
+  A-rockin' on my knee?
+
+  "'Bye, my honey baby,
+  A-rockin' on my knee,
+  Baby done gone to sleep,
+  Owl hush hootin' in de tree.
+
+  "'She gone to sleep, honey baby sleep,
+  A-rockin' on my, a-rockin' on my knee.'
+
+"Now, back to de freedom. One night 'bout ten niggers run away. De next
+day we'uns hears nothin', so I says to myself, 'De patters don't cotch
+dem.' Den I makes up my mind to go and I leaves with de chunk of meat
+and cornbread and am on my way, half skeert to death. I sho' has de eyes
+open and de ears forward, watchin' for de patters. I steps off de road
+in de night, at sight of anything, and in de day I takes to de woods. It
+takes me two days to make dat trip and jus' once de patters pass me by.
+I am in de thicket watchin' dem and I's sho' dey gwine search dat
+thicket, 'cause dey stops and am a-talkin' and lookin' my way. Dey
+stands dere for a li'l bit and den one comes my way. Lawd A-mighty! Dat
+sho' look like de end, but dat man stop and den look and look. Den he
+pick up somethin' and goes back. It am a bottle and dey all takes de
+drink and rides on. I's sho' in de sweat and I don't tarry dere long.
+
+"De Yanks am camped nere Bellfound and dere's where I gits to. 'Magine
+my 'sprise when I finds all de ten runaway niggers am dere, too. Dat am
+on a Sunday and on de Monday, de Yanks puts us on de freight train and
+we goes to Stevenson, in Alabama. Dere, us put to work buildin'
+breastworks. But after de few days, I gits sent to de headquarters at
+Nashville, in Tennessee.
+
+"I's water toter dere for de army and dere am no fightin' at first but
+'fore long dey starts de battle. Dat battle am a 'sperience for me. De
+noise am awful, jus' one steady roar of de guns and de cannons. De
+window glass in Nashville am all shoke out from de shakement of de
+cannons. Dere am dead mens all over de ground and lots of wounded and
+some cussin' and some prayin'. Some am moanin' and dis and dat one cry
+for de water and, God A-mighty, I don't want any sich 'gain. Dere am
+men carryin' de dead off da field, but dey can't keep up with de
+cannons. I helps bury de dead and den I gits sent to Murphysboro and
+dere it am jus' de same.
+
+"You knows when Abe Lincoln am shot? Well, I's in Nashville den and it
+am near de end of de war and I am standin' on Broadway Street talkin'
+with de sergeant when up walk a man and him shakes hands with me and
+says, 'I's proud to meet a brave, young fellow like you.' Dat man am
+Andrew Johnson and him come to be president after Abe's dead.
+
+"I stays in Nashville when de war am over and I marries Tennessee House
+in 1875 and she died July 10th, 1936. Dat make 61 year dat we'uns am
+togedder. Her old missy am now livin' in Arlington Heights, right here
+in Fort Worth and her name am Mallard and she come from Tennessee, too.
+
+"I comes here from Tennessee 51 year ago and at fust I farms and den I
+works for de packin' plants till dey lets me out, 'cause I's too old for
+to do 'nough work for dem.
+
+"I has eight boys and three girls, dat make eleven chillen, and dey
+makin' scatterment all over de country so I's alone in my old age. I has
+dat $17.00 de month pension what I gits from de State.
+
+"Dat am de end of de road.
+
+
+
+
+420031
+
+
+[Illustration: Sarah Ford]
+
+
+     SARAH FORD, whose age is problematical, but who says, "I's been
+     here for a long time," lives in a small cottage at 3151 Clay St.,
+     Houston, Texas. Born on the Kit Patton plantation near West
+     Columbia, Texas, Aunt Sarah was probably about fifteen years old
+     when emancipated. She had eleven children, the first born during
+     the storm of 1875, at East Columbia, in which Sarah's mother and
+     father both perished.
+
+
+"Law me, you wants me to talk 'bout slave times, and you is cotched me
+'fore I's had my coffee dis mornin', but when you gits old as I is, talk
+is 'bout all you can do, so 'scuse me whilst I puts de coffee pot on de
+fire and tell you what I can.
+
+"Now, what I tells you is de truth, 'cause I only told one little lie in
+my whole life and I got cotched in it and got whipped both ways. Oh,
+Lawd, I sho' never won't forget dat, mama sho' was mad. Mama sends me
+over to Sally Ann, the cow woman, to get some milk and onions. I never
+did like to borrow, so I comes back with the milk and tell mama Sally
+Ann say she ain't got no onions for no Africans. Dat make mamma mad and
+she goes tell dat Sally Ann Somethin'. She brung back de onions and say,
+'You, Sarah, I'll larn you not to tell no lie.' She sho' give me a
+hidin'.
+
+"Now, I tells you 'bout de plantation what I's born on. You all knows
+where West Columbia is at? Well, dat's right where I's born, on Massa
+Kit Patton's Plantation, dey calls it de Hogg place now." (Owned by
+children of Gov. Will Hogg.)
+
+"Mamma and papa belongs to Massa Kit and mama born there, too. Folks
+called her 'Little Jane,' 'cause she's no bigger'n nothing.
+
+"Papa's name was Mike and he's a tanner and he come from Tennessee and
+sold to Massa Kit by a nigger trader. He wasn't all black, he was part
+Indian. I heared him say what tribe, but I can't 'lect now. When I's
+growed mama tells me lots of things. She say de white folks don't let de
+slaves what works in de field marry none, dey jus' puts a man and
+breedin' woman together like mules. Iffen the women don't like the man
+it don't make no diff'rence, she better go or dey gives her a hidin'.
+
+"Massa Kit has two brothers, Massa Charles and Massa Matt, what lives at
+West Columbia. Massa Kit on one side Varney's Creek and Massa Charles on
+de other side. Massa Kit have a African woman from Kentucky for he wife,
+and dat's de truth. I ain't sayin' iffen she a real wife or not, but all
+de slaves has to call her 'Miss Rachel.' But iffen a bird fly up in de
+sky it mus' come down sometime, and Rachel jus' like dat bird, 'cause
+Massa Kit go crazy and die and Massa Charles take over de plantation and
+he takes Rachel and puts her to work in de field. But she don't stay in
+de field long, 'cause Massa Charles puts her in a house by herself and
+she don't work no more.
+
+"If us gits sick us call Mammy Judy. She de cook and iffen you puts a
+sugar barrel 'long side her and puts a face on dat barrel, you sho'
+can't tell it from her, she so round and fat. Iffen us git real sick dey
+calls de doctor, but iffen it a misery in de stomach or jus' de flux,
+Mammy Judy fix up some burr vine tea or horsemint tea. Dey de male burr
+vine and de female burr vine and does a woman or gal git de misery, dey
+gives 'em de female tea, and does a man, or boy chile git it, dey gives
+him de male vine tea.
+
+"Scuse me while I pours me some coffee. It sho' do fortify me. You know
+what us drink for coffee in slave times? Parched meal, and it purty good
+iffen you know's how.
+
+"Us don't have much singin' on our place, 'cepting at church on Sunday.
+Law me, de folks what works in de fields feels more like cryin' at
+night. Us chillen used to sing dis:
+
+  "'Where you goin', buzzard,
+  Where you gwine to go?
+    I's goin' down to new ground,
+  For to hunt Jim Crow.'
+
+"I guess Massa Charles, what taken us when Massa Kit die, was 'bout de
+same as all white folks what owned slaves, some good and some bad. We
+has plenty to eat--more'n I has now--and plenty clothes and shoes. But
+de overseer was Uncle Big Jake, what's black like de rest of us, but he
+so mean I 'spect de devil done make him overseer down below long time
+ago. Dat de bad part of Massa Charles, 'cause he lets Uncle Jake whip de
+slaves so much dat some like my papa what had spirit was all de time
+runnin' 'way. And even does your stomach be full, and does you have
+plenty clothes, dat bullwhip on your bare hide make you forgit de good
+part, and dat's de truth.
+
+"Uncle Big Jake sho' work de slaves from early mornin' till night. When
+you is in de field you better not lag none. When its fallin' weather de
+hands is put to work fixin' dis and dat. De woman what has li'l chillen
+don't have to work so hard. Dey works 'round de sugar house and come 11
+o'clock dey quits and cares for de babies till 1 o'clock, and den works
+till 3 o'clock and quits.
+
+"Massa Charles have a arbor and dat's where we has preachin'. One day
+old Uncle Law preachin' and he say, 'De Lawd make everyone to come in
+unity and on de level, both white and black.' When Massa Charles hears
+'bout it, he don't like it none, and de next mornin' old Uncle Jake git
+Uncle Law and put him out in de field with de rest.
+
+"Massa Charles run dat plantation jus' like a factory. Uncle Cip was
+sugar man, my papa tanner and Uncle John Austin, what have a wooden leg,
+am shoemaker and make de shoes with de brass toes. Law me, dey heaps of
+things go on in slave time what won't go on no more, 'cause de bright
+light come and it ain't dark no more for us black folks. Iffen a nigger
+run away and dey cotch him, or does he come back 'cause he hongry, I
+seed Uncle Jake stretch him out on de ground and tie he hands and feet
+to posts so he can't move none. Den he git de piece of iron what he call
+de 'slut' and what is like a block of wood with little holes in it, and
+fill de holes up with tallow and put dat iron in de fire till de grease
+sizzlin' hot and hold it over de pore nigger's back and let dat hot
+grease drap on he hide. Den he take de bullwhip and whip up and down,
+and after all dat throw de pore nigger in de stockhouse and chain him up
+a couple days with nothin' to eat. My papa carry de grease scars on he
+back till he die.
+
+"Massa Charles and Uncle Jake don't like papa, 'cause he ain't so black,
+and he had spirit, 'cause he part Indian. Do somethin' go wrong and
+Uncle Big Jake say he gwine to give papa de whippin', he runs off. One
+time he gone a whole year and he sho' look like a monkey when he gits
+back, with de hair standin' straight on he head and he face. Papa was
+mighty good to mama and me and dat de only reason he ever come back
+from runnin' 'way, to see us. He knowed he'd git a whippin' but he come
+anyway. Dey never could cotch papa when he run 'way, 'cause he part
+Indian. Massa Charles even gits old Nigger Kelly what lives over to
+Sandy Point to track papa with he dogs, but papa wade in water and dey
+can't track him.
+
+"Dey knows papa is de best tanner 'round dat part de country, so dey
+doesn't sell him off de place. I 'lect papa sayin' dere one place
+special where he hide, some German folks, de name Ebbling, I think.
+While he hides dere, he tans hides on de sly like and dey feeds him, and
+lots of mornin's when us open de cabin door on a shelf jus' 'bove is
+food for mama and me, and sometime store clothes. No one ain't see papa,
+but dere it is. One time he brung us dresses, and Uncle Big Jake heered
+'bout it and he sho' mad 'cause he can't cotch papa, and he say to mama
+he gwine to whip her 'less she tell him where papa is. Mama say, 'Fore
+God, Uncle Jake, I don't know, 'cause I ain't seed him since he run
+'way,' and jus' den papa come 'round de corner of de house. He save mama
+from de whippin' but papa got de hot grease drapped on him like I told
+you Uncle Big Jake did, and got put in de stockhouse with shackles on
+him, and kep' dere three days, and while he in dere mama has de goin'
+down pains and my sister, Rachel, is born.
+
+"When freedom come, I didn't know what dat was. I 'lect Uncle Charley
+Burns what drive de buggy for Massa Charles, come runnin' out in de yard
+and holler, 'Everybody free, everybody free,' and purty soon sojers
+comes and de captain reads a 'mation. And, Law me, dat one time Massa
+Charley can't open he mouth, 'cause de captain tell him to shut up, dat
+he'd do de talkin'. Den de captain say, 'I come to tell you de slaves is
+free and you don't have to call nobody master no more.' Well, us jus'
+mill 'round like cattle do. Massa Charley say iffen us wants to stay
+he'll pay us, all 'cepting my papa. He say, 'You can't stay here, 'cause
+you is a bad 'fluence.'
+
+"Papa left but come back with a wagon and mules what he borrows and
+loads mama and my sister and me in and us go to East Columbia on de
+Brazos river and settles down. Dey hires me out and us have our own
+patch, too, and dat de fust time I ever seed any money. Papa builds a
+cabin and a corn crib and us sho' happy, 'cause de bright light done
+come and dey no more whippin's.
+
+"One night us jus' finish eatin supper and someone holler 'Hello.' You
+know who it was holler? Old Uncle Big Jake. De black folks all hated him
+so dey wouldn't have no truck with him and he ask my papa could he stay.
+Papa didn't like him none, 'cause he done treat papa so bad, but de old
+devil jus' beg so hard papa takes him out to de corn crib and fix a
+place for him and he stay most a month till he taken sick and died.
+
+"I stays with papa and mama till I marries Wes Ford and I shows you how
+de Lawd done give and take away. Wes and I has a cabin by ourselves near
+papa's and I is jus' 'bout to have my first baby. De wind start blowin'
+and it git harder and harder and right when its de worst de baby comes.
+Dat in '75 and whilst I havin' my baby, de wind tear de cabin where mama
+and papa is to pieces and kilt 'em. My sister Rachel was with me so she
+wasn't kilt.
+
+"Well, I can't complain, 'cause de Lawd sho' been good to me. Wes and
+all 'cept four my chillen is dead now. I has six boys and five gals. But
+de ones what is alive is pore like dey mammy. But I praises de Lawd
+'cause de bright light am turned on.
+
+
+
+
+420153
+
+
+     MILLIE FORWARD, about 95 years old, was born a slave of Jason
+     Forward, in Jasper, Texas. She has spent her entire life in that
+     vicinity, and now lives in Jasper with her son, Joe McRay. Millie
+     has been totally blind for fifteen years and is very deaf.
+
+
+"Us used to live 'bout four mile east of Jasper, on de Newton Highway. I
+reckon I's 'bout 95 year old and I thank de Lawd I's been spared dis
+long. Some my old friends say I's 100, and maybe I is. I feels like it.
+
+"I's born in Alabama and mammy have jus' got up when de white folks
+brung us out west. Pappy's name Jim Forward and mammy name Mary. Dey
+lef' pappy in Alabama, 'cause he 'long to 'nother massa.
+
+"My massa name Jason Forward and he own a lot of slaves. I work as
+housegirl and wait on de white women. Missus name am Sarah Ann Forward.
+Massa Jason he own de fust drugstore in Jasper. I have de sister, Susan,
+and de brudder, Tom. Massa and missus, dey treats us jes' like dey us
+pappy and mammy.
+
+"Us have more to eat den dan us do now. Us never was knowed to be
+without meat, 'cause massa raise plenty pigs. Us have fish and possum
+and coon and deer and everything. Us have biscuits and cake, too, but us
+drink bran meal coffee. Massa and missus has no chillen and dey give us
+feast and have biscuits and cake. Befo' Christmas massa go to town and
+buy all kinds candy and toys and say, 'Millie, you go out on de gallery
+and holler and tell Santy not forgit fill your stockin' tonight.' I
+holler loud as I can and nex' mornin' my stockin' chock full.
+
+"After freedom come, us stays right on with massa and missus. Massa
+teach school for us at night. Us learn A B C and how spell cat and dog
+and nigger. Den one day he git cross and scold us and us didn't go back
+to school no more. Us didn't have sense 'nough to know he tryin' do us
+good.
+
+"Den missus git sick, but she dat good, dat when one cullud man git
+drown in de 'river she sit up in bed and make he shroud and massa feed
+de whole crowd de two days dey findin' de body. After him bury, missus
+git worse and say, 'Jason, pull down de blind, de light am so bright it
+hurt my eyes.' Den a big, white crane come light on de chimney and us
+chillen throw rocks at him, but he jes' shake he head and ruffle he
+feathers and still sit dere. I tells you dat de light of Heaven shinin'
+on missus and iffen ever a woman went dere, she did. She de bes' white
+woman I ever see. De day she die, I cry all day.
+
+"When de sojers go to de war, every man take a slave to wait on him and
+take care he camp and cook. After de end of war, when de sojers gwine
+home, don't know how many Yankees pass through Jasper, but it sound like
+de roar of a storm comin'. Every officer have he wife ridin' right by he
+side. Dey wives come to go home with dem. Dey thousands bluecoats,
+ridin' two abreas'.
+
+"When I young lady, dey have tourn'ments at Adrian Ryall place west of
+Jasper and de one what cotch de hoss bridle de most times, git crown
+queen. I gits to be queen every time. I looks like a queen now, doesn't
+I?
+
+"After us git free a long time, me and Susan and Tom us work hard and
+buy us de black land farm. But de deed git' burnt up and us didn't know
+how to git 'nother deed, and a young nigger call McRay, he come foolin'
+'round me and makin' love to me. He find out us don't have no deed no
+more and he claim dat farm and take it 'way from us and leave me with
+li'l baby boy what I names Joe Millie McRay. But never 'gain. I never
+marries.
+
+"Us done work in de cotton field and wash many a long day to pay for dat
+farm. But dat boy growed to be a good man and I live with him and he
+wife now. And he boy, Bob, am better still. He jes' work so hard and he
+buy fine li'l home in Jasper and marry de bes' gal, mos' white. Dey have
+nice fur'ture and gas and lights and everything.
+
+"Dey treat us purty good in slavery days but I'd rather be free, but it
+purty hard to be blind so long and most deaf, too, but I thank de Lawd
+I's not sufferin'. I gits de pension of 'leven dollars a month. I's so
+old I can't 'member much, only sometime, things comes to me I thought I
+forgot long time ago. I's had it purty hard to pay for de farm and den
+have it stoled from me when I's old and blind, but de good Lawd, he know
+all 'bout it and we all got to stand 'fore de jedgment some day soon.
+
+
+
+
+420051
+
+
+[Illustration: Louis Fowler]
+
+
+     LOUIS FOWLER, 84, was born a slave to Robert Beaver, in Macon Co.,
+     Georgia. Fowler did not take his father's name, but that of his
+     stepfather, J. Fowler. After he was freed, Louis farmed for several
+     years, then worked in packing plants in Fort Worth, Tex. He lives
+     at 2706 Holland St., Fort Worth.
+
+
+"Dis cullud person am 84 years old and I's born on de plantation of
+Massa Robert Beaver, in old Georgia. He owned my mammy and 'bout 50
+slaves. Now, 'bout my pappy, I lets you judge. Look at my hair. De color
+am red, ain't it? My beard am red and my eyes is brown and my skin am
+light yellow. Now, who does you think my pappy was? You don't know, of
+course, but I knows, 'cause on dat plantation am a man dat am over six
+feet tall and his hair as red as a brick.
+
+"My mammy am married to a man named Fowler and he am owned by Massa Jack
+Fowler, on de place next to ours. Our place am middlin' big and fixed
+first class. He has first-class quarter for us cullud folks. De cabins
+am two and some three rooms and dey all built of logs and chinked with a
+piece of wood and daubed with dirt to fill de cracks. De way we'uns fix
+dat dirt am take de clay or gumbo which am sticky when it am wet. Dat
+dirt am soaked with water till it stick together and den hay or straw am
+mixed with it. When sich mud am daubed in de cracks it stay and dem
+cabins am sho' windproof and warm.
+
+"De treatment am good and Massa Beaver have de choice name 'mong he
+neighbors for bein' good to he niggers. No work on Sunday, no work on
+Saturday evenin's. Dem times was for de cullud folks to do for
+demselves. Massa Beaver have it fixed disaway, he 'low each family a
+piece of groun' and dey can raise what dey likes.
+
+"De rations am measure out and de massa allus 'low plenty of meat and we
+has wheat flour. Mos' de niggers don't have wheat flour, but massa
+raises de wheat and we gits it. We kin have 'lasses and brown sugar but
+one thing we'uns has to watch am de waste, 'cause massa won't stand for
+dat.
+
+"De meat am cured with de hick'ry wood smoke and if you could git jus'
+one taste dat ham and bacon you'd never eat none of this nowadays meat.
+It sho' have a dif'rent taste.
+
+"We makes de cloth and de wool and I could card and spin and weave 'fore
+I's big 'nough to work in de field. My mammy larned me to help her. We
+makes dye from de bark of walnut and de cherry and red oak trees, and
+some from berries but what dey is I forgit. Iffen we'uns wants clay red,
+we buries de cloth in red clay for a week and it takes on de color. Den
+we soaks de cloth in cold salt water and it stays colored.
+
+"Massa builded a log church house for we'uns cullud folks for to go to
+God. Dat nigger named Allen Beaver am de preacherman and de leader in
+all de parties, 'cause him can play de fiddle. No, Allen am not
+educated, but can he preach a pow'ful sermon. O, Lawd! He am inspire
+from de Lawd and he preached from his heartfelt.
+
+"Dere am only one time dat a nigger gits whupped on dat plantation and
+dat am not given by massa but by dem patterrollers. Massa don't
+gin'rally 'low dem patterrollers whup on his place, and all de niggers
+from round dere allus run from de patterrollers onto massa's land and
+den dey safe. But in dis 'ticlar case, massa make de 'ception.
+
+"'Twas nigger Jack what dey chases home and he gits under de cabin and
+'fused to come out. Massa say, 'In dis case I gwine make 'ception,
+'cause dat Jack he am too unreas'able. He allus chasin' after some
+nigger wench and not satisfied with de pass I give. Give him 25 lashes
+but don't draw de blood or leave de marks.'
+
+"Well, sar, it am de great sight to see Jack git dat whuppin'. Him am
+skeert, but dey ain't hurtin' him bad. Massa make him come out and dey
+tie him to a post and he starts to bawl and beller befo' a lick am
+struck. Say! Him beg like a good fellow. It am, 'Oh, massa, massa, Oh,
+massa, have mercy, don't let 'em whup me. Massa, I won't go off any
+more.' De patterrollers gives him a lick and Jack lets out a yell dat
+sounds like a mule bray and twice as loud.
+
+"Dere used to be a patterroller song what sent like dis:
+
+  "Up 'de hill and down de holler
+  White man cotch nigger by de collar
+  Dat nigger run and dat nigger flew,
+  Dat nigger tore he shirt in two.'
+
+"Well, while dey's whuppin' dat nigger, Jack, he couldn't run and he
+couldn't tear he shirt in two, but he holler till he tear he mouth in
+two. Jack say he never go off without de pass 'gain and he kept he word,
+too.
+
+"De big doin's am on Christmas Day and de massa have present for each
+cullud person. Dey am little things and I laughs when I thinks of them,
+but de cullud folks sho' 'joy dem and it show massa's heart am right.
+For de chillen it am candy and for de women, a pin or sich, and for de
+men, a knife or sich. On dat day, preacherman Allen sho' have de full
+heart, and he preach and preach.
+
+"But de war starts and it not so happy on massa's place and 'fore long
+he two sons goes to dat war. De massa show worryment 'cause dey fightin'
+here and dere and den come de day when dey fight right nex' to de
+massa's place. It am in de field next to we'uns and de two boys, young
+Charley and he brother, Bob, am in de fight. It am for sev'ral days de
+army am a-marchin' to de field and gittin' ready for de battle. Durin'
+dat time, de two boys comes home for a spell every day. Early one
+mornin' de shootin' starts and it am not much at first but it ain't long
+till it am a steady thunder and it keep up all day.
+
+"De missy am walkin' in de yard and den go in de house and out 'gain.
+She am a-twistin' her hands and cryin'. She keeps sayin', 'Dey sho' gits
+kilt, my poor babies.' De massa talk to her to quiet her. Dat help me,
+too, 'cause I sho' skeert. Nobody do much work dat day, but stand round
+with quiverments and when dey talk, dey voice quiver. Why, even de
+buildin's quivered. Every once in de while, dere am an extry roar. Dat
+de cannon and every time I heered it, I jumps. I's sent to git de eggs
+and have 'bout five dozen in de basket, holdin' it in front of me with
+my two hands. All a sudden, one of dem extry shoots comes and down dis
+nigger kid go and my head hits into de basket. Dere I is, eggs oozin'
+all round me and I so skeert and fussed up I jus' lays and kicks. I
+wants to scream but I can't for de eggs in my mouth. To dis day I thinks
+of dat battle every time I eats eggs.
+
+"De nex' day after de battle am over, mos' us cullud folks goes to de
+field. Some of 'em buries de dead, and I hears 'em tell how in de low
+places de blood stand like water and de bodies all shoot to pieces.
+
+"Massa's sons not kilt and am de missy glad! She have allus colored
+folks come to de house and make us kneel down and she thank de Lawd for
+savin' her sons. Dey even go to other places and fights, but dey comes
+home after de war am over.
+
+"Surrender come and massa tells us we can stay or go and if we stay he
+pay us wages or we works on shares. Some go and some stay. Mammy and me
+goes to de Fowler place with my stepfather and we share crops for three
+year.
+
+"I stays with dem till I's 18 and den I gits married. Dat in 1871 and my
+wife died in 1928 and we'uns have four chillen. All dat time I's farmed
+till 'bout 30 year ago when I works in de packin' plant here in Fort
+Worth. I works dere 20 years and den dey say I's too old and since den I
+works at de odd jobs till 'bout five years ago.
+
+"Since I's quit work at de packin' plant it am hard for dis cullud
+person. I soon uses up my savin's and den I's gone hongry plenty times.
+My chillen am old and dey havin' de hard time, too. My friends helps me
+a little and I gits de pension, but it am only $3.00 a month and,
+course, dat ain't 'nough.
+
+"After all dese years I's worked and 'haved, I never thinks I comes to
+where I couldn't git 'nough to eat. I's am wishful for de Lawd to call
+me to jedgment.
+
+
+
+
+420307
+
+
+     CHRIS FRANKLIN, 82, was born a slave of Judge Robert J. Looney, in
+     Bossier Parish, Louisiana. Chris now lives in Beaumont, Texas, and
+     supports himself by gardening and yard work. He is thrifty and owns
+     his own home.
+
+
+"Yes, suh, dis is Chris Franklin. I signs my name C.C. Franklin, dat for
+Christopher Columbus Franklin. I's born in Bossier Parish, up in
+Louisiana, jes' twenty-five miles de other side of Shreveport. I's born
+dere in 1855, on Christmas Day, but I's raise up in Caddo Parish. Old
+massa move over dere when I 'bout a year old.
+
+"Old massa name Robert J. Looney and he a jedge and lawyer. He have a
+boy name R.J., Jr., but I's talkin' 'bout de old head, de old 'riginal.
+De missy, her name Lettie Looney. He weren't no farmer, jes' truck farm
+to raise de livin' for he household and slaves. He didn't have over a
+half dozen growed up slaves. Course, dey rears a lot of young'uns.
+
+"My pappy's name Solomon Lawson. He 'long to Jedge Lawson, what live
+near us. When freedom come, he done take de name Sol Franklin, what he
+say am he pappy's name.
+
+"Jedge Looney have de ord'nary frame house. Dey 'bout six, seven rooms
+in it, all under one roof. De dinin' room and cook room wasn't built off
+to deyself, like mos' big houses. It was a raise house, raise up on high
+pillars and dey could drive a hoss and buggy under it. He live on de
+Fairview Road.
+
+"Us slaves all live in one big slave cabin, built out of plank. It built
+sort-a like de 'partment house. Dey four rooms and each fam'ly have one
+room. Dey have a lamp and a candle for our comfort. It jes' a li'l,
+ord'nary brass lamp. Dey used to make 'em out of wax and tallow. Dey
+raise dere own bees and when dey rob de bee gums dey strain de honey and
+melt de wax with tallow to make it firmer. Dey tie one end de wick on
+de stick 'cross de mold and put in de melted wax and tallow.
+
+"Dey have a table and benches, too. But a chair de rare thing in a
+cabin. Dey make some with de split hick'ry or rawhide bottom. Dey have
+hay mattress. De tickin' am rice sacks. Us have mud chimney. Dey fix
+sticks like de ladder and mix mud and moss and grass in what dey calls
+'cats'. Dey have rock backs, and, man, us have a sho' 'nough fire in
+'em. Put a stick long as me and big as a porch post in dat fireplace. In
+cold weather dat last all day and all night.
+
+"When de parents workin' in de field, somebody look after de chillen. De
+nannies come in and nuss dem when time come. De white folks never put on
+'strictions on de chillen till dey twelve, fourteen years old. Dey all
+wear de straight-cut slip. Dey give de li'l gals de slip dress and li'l
+panties. In wintertime dey give de boy's de li'l coat and pants and
+shoes, but no drawers or unnerwear. Dey give dem hard russet shoes in
+wintertime. Dey have brass toes. Dey plenty dur'ble. In summertime us
+didn't see no shoe.
+
+"Massa Looney jes' as fine de man as ever make tracks. Christmas time
+come, he give 'em a few dollars and say go to the store and buy what us
+want. He give all de li'l nigger chillen gif's, jes' like he own. He git
+de jug of whiskey and plenty eggs and make de big eggnog for everybody.
+He treat us cullud folks jes' like he treat he own fam'ly. He never take
+no liquor 'cept at Christmas. He give us lots to eat at Christmas, too.
+
+"Sometime old missy come out and call all de li'l niggers in de house to
+play with her chillen. When us eat us have de tin plate and cup. Dey
+give us plenty milk and butter and 'taters and sich. Us all set on de
+floor and make 'way with dem rations.
+
+"Dey had a li'l church house for de niggers and preachin' in de
+afternoon, and on into de night lots of times. Dey have de cullud
+preacher. He couldn't read. He jes' preach from nat'ral wit and what he
+larn from white folks. De whole outfit profess to be Baptis'.
+
+"De marryin' business go through by what massa say. De fellow git de
+massa's consen'. Massa mos'ly say yes without waitin', 'cause marryin'
+mean more niggers for him comin' on. He git de jedge or preacher to
+marry dem. Iffen de man live on one plantation and de gal on 'nother, he
+have to git de pass to go see her. Dat so de patterrollers not git him.
+
+"De slaves used to have balls and frolics in dey cabins. But iffen dey
+go to de frolic on 'nother plantation dey git de pass. Dat so dey can
+cotch runaway niggers. I never heared of stealin' niggers, 'cept
+dis-a-way. Sometime de runaway nigger git fifty or hundred miles away
+and show up dere as de stray slave. Dat massa where he show up take care
+of him so long, den lay claim to him. Dat call harborin' de nigger.
+
+"Dey lots of places where de young massas has heirs by nigger gals. Dey
+sell dem jes' like other slaves. Dat purty common. It seem like de white
+women don't mind. Dey didn't 'ject, 'cause dat mean more slaves.
+
+"Sometimes de white folks has de big deer drive. Dem and de niggers go
+down in de bottoms to drive deers up. Dey rid big, fine hosses and start
+de deers runnin'. Dey raise dere own dogs. Massa sho' careful 'bout he
+hounds. He train dem good and treat dem good, too. He have somethin'
+cook reg'lar for dem. Dey hunts foxes and wolves and plenty dem kinds
+varmints.
+
+"I seen sojers' by de thousands. When 'mancipation come out massa come
+to de back door with de paper and say, 'Yous free.' He furnish dem with
+all dey needs and give dem part de crop. He 'vide up de pig litters and
+such 'mongst dem. He give dem de start. Den after two, three year he
+commence takin' out for dere food and boots and clothes and sich.
+
+"De night de pusson die dey has de wake and sing and pray all night
+long. Dey all very 'ligious in dere profession. Dey knock off all work
+so de slaves can go to de buryin'.
+
+"De white folks 'low dem to have de frolic with de fiddle or banjo or
+windjammer. Dey dances out on de grass, forty or fifty niggers, and dem
+big gals nineteen year old git out dere barefoot as de goose. It jes' de
+habit of de times, 'cause dey all have shoes. Sometimes dey call de jig
+dance and some of dem sho' dance it, too. De prompter call, 'All git
+ready.' Den he holler, 'All balance,' and den he sing out, 'Swing you
+pardner,' and dey does it. Den he say, 'First man head off to de right,'
+and dere dey goes. Or he say, 'All promenade,' and dey goes in de
+circle. One thing dey calls, 'Bird in de Cage.' Three joins hands round
+de gal in de middle, and dance round her, and den she git out and her
+pardner git in de center and dey dance dat way awhile.
+
+"After freedom dey have de log cabin schoolhouse. De first teacher was
+de cullud women name Mary Chapman. I near wore out dat old blueblack
+speller tryin' to larn A B C's.
+
+"I leaves Caddo Parish in 1877 for Galveston, and leaves dere on de four
+mast schooner for Leesburg and up de Calcasieu River. Den I goes to de
+Cameron Parish and in 1879 I comes to Beaumont. I marries Mandy Watson
+in 1882 and she died in 1932. Us never have no chillen but 'dopts two.
+Us marry in de hotel dinin'-room, 'cause I's workin' for de hotel man,
+J.B. Goodhue. De Rev. Elder Venable, what am da old cullud preacher,
+marries us. I didn't git marry like in slavery time, I's got a great big
+marriage certif'cate hangin' on de wall of my house.
+
+"I 'longs to several lodges, de Knights of Labor and de Knights of Honor
+and de Pilgrims. I never hold no office. I's jes' de bench member. I's a
+member of de Live Lake Missionary Baptist Church.
+
+"I's got de big house of my own, on de corner of Roberts Avenue and San
+Antonio street. After my wife die, I gits de man to come and live dere
+with me. Dat's all I knows.
+
+
+
+
+420002
+
+
+[Illustration: Orelia Alexie Franks]
+
+
+     ORELIA ALEXIE FRANKS was born on the plantation of Valerian Martin,
+     near Opelousas, Louisiana. She does not know her age, but thinks
+     she is near ninety. Her voice has the musical accent of the French
+     Negro. She has lived in Beaumont, Texas, many years.
+
+
+"I's born on Mr. George Washington's birthday', the twenty-second of
+February but I don't know what year. My old massa was Valerian Martin
+and he come from foreign country. He come from Canada and he Canada
+French. He wife name Malite Guidry. Old massa a good Catholic and he
+taken all the li'l slave chillen to be christen. Oh, he's a Christian
+massa and I used to be a Catholic but now I's a Apostolic, but I's
+christen in St. Johns Catholic Church, what am close to Lafayette, where
+I's born.
+
+"My pa name Alexis Franks and he was American and Creole. My ma name
+Fanire Martin and I's raise where everybody talk French. I talks
+American but I talks French goodest.
+
+"Old massa he big cane and cotton farmer and have big plantation and
+raise everything, and us all well treat. Dey feed us right, too. Raise
+big hawg in de pen and raise lots of beef. All jes' for to feed he
+cullud folks.
+
+"Us quarters out behind de big house and old massa come round through de
+quarters every mornin' and see how us niggers is. If us sick he call
+nuss. She old slavery woman. She come look at 'em. If dey bad sick dey
+send for de doctor. Us house all log house. Dey all dab with dirt 'tween
+de logs. Dey have dirt chimney make out of sticks and dab with mud. Dey
+[Transcriber's note: unfinished sentence at end of page]
+
+"Lots of time we eat coosh-coosh. Dat make out of meal and water. You
+bile de water and salt it, den put in de cornmeal and stir it and bile
+it. Den you puts milk or clabber or syrup on it and eat it.
+
+"Old massa have de graveyard a purpose to bury de cullud folks in. Dey
+have cullud preacher. Dey have funeral in de graveyard. Dat nigger
+preacher he a Mef'dist.
+
+"Old massa son-in-law, he overseer. He 'low nobody to beat de slaves. Us
+li'l ones git spank when we bad. Dey put us 'cross de knee and spank us
+where dey allus spank chillen.
+
+"Christmas time dey give big dinner. Dey give all de old men whiskey.
+Everybody have big time.
+
+"Dey make lots of sugar. After dey finish cookin' de sugar dey draw off
+what left from de pots and give it to us chillen. Us have candy pullin'.
+
+"Dey weave dey own cloth. Us have good clothes. Dey weave de cloth for
+make mattress and stuff 'em with moss. Massa sho' believe to serve he
+niggers good. I see old massa when he die. Us see old folks cry and us
+cry, too. Dey have de priest and burn de candles. Us sho' miss old
+massa.
+
+"I see lots of sojers. Dey so many like hair on your head. Dey Yankees.
+Dey call 'em bluejackets. Dey a fight up near massa's house. Us climb in
+tree for to see. Us hear bullets go 'zoom' through de air 'round dat
+tree but us didn't know it was bullets. A man rid up on a hoss and tell
+massa to git us pickaninnies out dat tree or dey git kilt. De Yankees
+have dat battle and den sot us niggers free.
+
+"Old massa, he de kind man what let de niggers have dey prayer-meetin'.
+He give 'em a big cabin for dat. Shout? Yes, Lawd! Sing like dis:
+
+  "'Mourner, fare you well,
+  Gawd 'Mighty bless you,
+  Till we meets again.'
+
+"Us sings 'nother song:
+
+  "'Sinner blind,
+  Johnnie, can't you ride no more?
+  Sinner blind.
+  Your feets may be slippin'
+  Your soul git lost.
+  Johnnie, can't you ride no more?
+  Yes, Lawd,
+  Day by day you can't see,
+  Johnnie, can't you ride no more?
+  Yes, Lawd.'"
+
+
+
+
+420136
+
+
+     ROSANNA FRAZIER was born a slave on the Frazier plantation in
+     Mississippi. She does not remember her masters given name, nor does
+     she know her age, although from her memories of various events
+     during the Civil War, she believes she is close to ninety, at
+     least. Rosanna is blind and bedridden, and is cared for by friends
+     in a little house in Pear Orchard Negro Settlement, in Beaumont,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"My mammy was a freeborn woman named Viny Frazier and she come from a
+free country. She was on her way to school when dey stoled her, when she
+de young gal. De spec'lator gang stoled her and brung her and sold her
+in Red River, in Mississippi. Missy Mary, she buy her. Missy Mary
+married den to one man named Pool and she have two boys call Josh and
+Bill. After dat man die, she marry Marse Frazier.
+
+"My daddy name Jerry Durden and after I's born they brings us all to
+Texas, but my daddy belong to de Neylands, so we loses him. My white
+folks moves to a big plantation close to Woodville, in Tyler County, and
+Marse Frazier have de store and plenty of stock. He come first from
+Georgia.
+
+"All us little chillen, black and white, play togedder and Marse
+Frazier, he raise us. His chillen call Sis and Texana and Robert and
+John. Marse Frazier he treat us nice and de other white folks calls us
+'free niggers', and wouldn't 'low us on dere places. Dey 'fraid dere
+niggers git dissatisfy with dey own treatment. Sho's you born, iffen one
+of us git round dem plantations, dey jus' cut us to pieces with de whip.
+Some of dem white folks sho' was mean, and dey work de niggers all day
+in de sun and cut dem with de whip, and sho' done 'em up bad. Dat on
+other places, not on ours.
+
+"Marse Frazier, he didn't work us too hard and give Saturday and Sunday
+off. He's all right and give good food. People sho' would rare off from
+him, 'cause he too good. He was de Methodist preacher and furnish us
+church. Sometimes he has camp meeting and dey cook out doors with de
+skillicks. Sometimes he has corn shucking time and we has hawg meat and
+meal bread and whiskey and eggnog and chicken.
+
+"De books he brung us didn't do us no good, 'cause us wouldn't larn
+nothin'. Us too busy playin' and huntin' good berries in de wood, de
+huckleberry and grape and muscadine and chinquapins. All dis time de war
+was fixin' and I seed two, three soldiers round spyin'. When peace
+'clared missy's two boys come back from de war. We stays with Marse
+Frazier two year and den I goes and gits married to de man call Baker.
+
+"I done been blind like dis over 40 year. One Sunday I stay all night
+with a man and he wife and I was workin' as woodchopper on de Santa Fe
+route up Beaumont to Tyler County. After us git up and I starts 'way, I
+ain't gone but 15, 16 yard when I hear somethin' say, 'Rose, you done
+somethin' you ain't ought.' I say, 'No, Lawd, no.' Den de voice say,
+'Somethin' gwine happen to you,' and de next mornin' I's blind as de bat
+and I ain't never seed since.
+
+"Some try tell me snow or sweat or smoke de reason. Dat ain't de reason.
+Dey a old, old, slowfooted somethin' from Louisiana and dey say he de
+conjure man, one dem old hoodoo niggers. He git mad at me de last
+plum-ripenin' time and he make up powdered rattlesnake dust and pass dat
+through my hair and I sho' ain't seed no more.
+
+"Dat not de onliest thing dem old conjure men do. Dey powder up de
+rattle offen de snake and tie it up in de little old rag bag and dey do
+devilment with it. Day git old scorpion and make bad medicine. Dey git
+dirt out de graveyard and dat dirt, after dey speak on it, would make
+you go crazy.
+
+"When dey wants conjure you, dey sneak round and git de hair combin' or
+de finger or toenail, or anything natural 'bout your body, and works de
+hoodoo on it.
+
+"Dey make de straw man or de clay man and dey puts de pin in he leg and
+you leg gwineter git hurt or sore jus' where dey puts de pin. Iffen dey
+puts de pin through de heart you gwineter die and ain't nothin' kin save
+you.
+
+"Dey make de charm to wear round de neck or de ankle and dey make de
+love powder, too, out de love vine, what grow in de woods. Dey biles de
+leaves and powders 'em. Dey sho' works, I done try 'em.
+
+
+
+
+420097
+
+
+[Illustration: Priscilla Gibson]
+
+
+     PRISCILLA GIBSON is not sure of her age, but thinks she was born
+     about 1856, in Smith County, Mississippi, to Mary Puckett and her
+     Indian husband. They belonged to Jesse Puckett, who owned a
+     plantation on the Strong River. Priscilla now lives in Jasper,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"Priscilla Gibson is my name, and I's bo'n in Smith County, way over in
+Mis'ippi, sometime befo' de War. I figger it was 'bout 1856, 'cause I's
+old enough to climb de fence and watch dem musterin' in de troops when
+de war began. Dey tol' me I's nine year ole when de War close, but dey
+ain' sure of dat, even. My neighbor, Uncle Bud Adams, he 83, and I's
+clippin' close at he heels.
+
+"Mammy's name was Mary Puckett, but I never seed my father as I knows
+of. Don' know if he was a whole Injun or part white man. Never seed but
+one brother and his name was Jake. Dey took him to de War with de white
+boys, to cook and min' de camp and he took pneumony and die.
+
+"Massa's name was Jesse Puckett, and Missus' name Mis' Katie. Dey hab
+big fam'ly and dey live in a big wooden-beam house with a big up-stair'.
+De house was right on de highway from Raleigh to Brandon, with de Strong
+River jis' below us. Dey took in and 'commadated travelers 'cause dey
+warn' hotels den.
+
+"Massa have hunner's of acres. You could walk all day and you never git
+offen his lan'. An' he have gran' furniture and other things in de
+house. I kin remember dem, 'cause I use' to he'p 'round de house, run
+errands and fan Mis' Katie and sich. I 'members chairs with silk
+coverin's on 'em and dere was de gran' lights, big lamps with de roses
+on de shades. And eve'ywhere de floors with rugs and de rugs was pretty,
+dey wasn' like dese thin rugs you sees nowadays. No, ma'am, dey has big
+flowers on 'em and de feets sinks in 'em. I useter lie down on one of
+dem rugs in Mis' Katie's room when she's asleep and I kin stop fannin.'
+
+"Massa Puckett was tol'able good to de slaves. We has clothes made of
+homespun what de nigger women weaved, and de little boys wo' long-tail
+shirts, with no pants till they's grown. Massa raised sheep and dey make
+us wool clothes for winter, but we has no shoes.
+
+"De white folks didn' larn us read and write but dey was good to us
+'cep' when some niggers try to run away and den dey whips 'em hard. We
+has plenty to eat and has prayer meetin's with singin' and shoutin', and
+we chilluns played marbles and jump de rope.
+
+"After freedom come all lef' but me 'cause Missus say she have me boun'
+to her till I git my age. But I's res'less one night and my sister,
+Georgy Ann, come see me, and I run off with her, but dey never comes
+after me. I was scart dey would, 'cause I 'membered 'bout our neighbor,
+ole Means, and his slave, Sylvia, and she run away and was in de woods,
+and he'd git on de hoss, take de dogs and set 'em on her, and let dem
+bite her and tear her clothes.
+
+
+
+
+420303
+
+
+     GABRIEL GILBERT was born in slavery on the plantation of Belizare
+     Brassard, in New Iberia Parish, Louisiana. He does not know his
+     age, but appears to be about eighty. He has lived in Beaumont,
+     Texas, for sixteen years.
+
+
+"My old massa was Belizare Broussard. He was my mom's massa. He had a
+big log house what he live in. De places 'tween de logs was fill with
+dirt. De quarters de slaves live in was make out of dirt. Dey put up
+posties in de ground and bore holes in de posts and put in pickets
+'cross from one post to the other. Den dey build up de sides with mud.
+De floor and everything was dirt. Dey had a schoolhouse built for de
+white chillen de same way. De cullud chillen didn't have no school.
+
+"Dem was warm healthy houses us grew up in. Dey used to raise better men
+den in dem houses dan now. My pa name was Joseph Gilbert. He old massa
+was Belleau Prince.
+
+"I didn't know what a store was when I was growin' up. Us didn't have
+store things like now. Us had wooden pan and spoon dem times. I never
+see no iron plow dem days. Nothin' was iron on de plow 'cept de share. I
+tell dese youngsters, 'You in hebben now from de time I come up.' When a
+man die dem days, dey use de ox cart to carry de corpse.
+
+"Massa have 'bout four hundred acres and lots of slaves. He raise sugar
+cane. He have a mill and make brown sugar. He raise cotton and corn,
+too. He have plenty stock on de place. He give us plenty to eat. He was
+a nice man. He wasn't brutish. He treat he slaves like hisself. I never
+'member see him whip nobody. He didn't 'low no ill treatment. All de
+folks round he place say he niggers ruint and spoiled.
+
+"De li'l white folks and nigger folks jus' play round like brudder and
+sister and us all eat at de white table. I slep' in de white folks
+house, too. My godfather and godmother was rich white folks. I still
+Cath'lic.
+
+"I seed sojers but I too li'l to know nothin' 'bout dem. Dey didn't
+worry me a-tall. I didn't git close to de battle.
+
+"My mammy weave cloth out cotton and wool. I 'member de loom. It go
+'boom-boom-boom.' Dat de shuttle goin' cross. My daddy, he de smart man.
+I'll never be like him long as I live in dis world. He make shoes. He
+build house. He do anything. He and my mammy neither one ever been
+brutalize'.
+
+"De first work I done was raisin' cotton and sugar cane and sweet and
+Irish 'taters. I used to cook sugar.
+
+"I marry on twenty-second of February. My wife was Medora Labor. She
+been dead thirty-five year now. I never marry no second woman. I love my
+wife so much I never want nobody else. Us had six chillen. Two am
+livin'.
+
+"Goin' back when I a slave, massa have a store. When de priest come dey
+hold church in dat store. Old massa have sev'ral boys. Dey went after
+some de slave gals. Dey have chillen by dem. Dem gals have dere cabins
+and dere chillen, what am half white.
+
+"After while dem boys marry. But dey allus treat dey chillen by de slave
+womens good. Dey white wife treat dem good, too, most like dey dere own
+chillen.
+
+"Old massa have plenty money. Land am only two bits de acre. Some places
+it cost nothing. Dey did haulin' in ox-carts. A man what had mules had
+something extra.
+
+"Us have plenty wild game, wild geese and ducks. Fishin' am mighty good.
+Dey was 'gaters, too. I seed dem bite a man's arm off.
+
+"If a slave feelin' bad dey wouldn't make him work. My uncle and my
+mammy dey never work nothing to speak of. Dey allus have some kind
+complaint. Ain't no tellin' what it gwine be, but you could 'low
+something ailin' dem!
+
+"I 'member dey a white man. He had a gif'. I don't care what kind of
+animal, a dog or a hoss, dat man he work on it and it never leave you or
+you house. If anybody have toothache or earache he take a brand new nail
+what ain't never work befo' and work dat round you tooth or ear. Dat
+break up de toothache or earache right away. He have li'l prayer he say.
+I don't know what it was.
+
+"I's seed ghosties. I talk with dem, too. Sometimes dey like people.
+Sometimes dey like animal, maybe white dog. I allus feel chilly when dey
+come round me. I talk with my wife after she dead. She tell me, 'Don't
+you forgit to pray.' She say dis world corrupt and you got to fight it
+out."
+
+
+
+
+420230
+
+
+     MATTIE GILMORE lives in a little cabin on E. Fifth Avenue, in
+     Corsicana, Texas. A smile came to her lips, as she recalled days
+     when she was a slave in Mobile, Alabama. She has no idea how old
+     she is. Her master, Thomas Barrow, brought his slaves to Athens,
+     Texas, during the Civil War, and Mattie had two children at that
+     time, so she is probably about ninety.
+
+
+"I's born in Mobile, Alabama, and I don't have no idea when. My white
+folks never did tell me how old I was. My own dear mammy died 'fore I
+can remember and my stepma didn't take no time to tell me nothin'. Her
+name was Mary Barrow and papa's name was Allison Barrow, and I had
+sisters, Rachel and Lou and Charity, and a brother, Allison.
+
+"My master sold Rachel when she was jus' a girl. I sho' did cry. They
+put her on a block and sold her off. I heared they got a thousand
+dollars for her, but I never seed her no more till after freedom. A man
+named Dick Burdon, from Kaufman County, bought her. After freedom I
+heared she's sick and brung her home, but she was too far gone.
+
+"We lived in a log house with dirt floors, warm in winter but sho' hot
+in summer, no screens or nothin', jus' homemade doors. We had homemade
+beds out of planks they picked up around. Mattresses nothin', we had
+shuck beds. But, anyway, you takes it, we was better off den dan now.
+
+"I worked in the fields till Rachel was sold, den tooken her place,
+doin' kitchen work and fannin' flies off de table with a great, long
+limb. I liked dat. I got plenty to eat and not so hot. We had jus' food
+to make you stand up and work. It wasn't none the good foolish things we
+has now. We had cornbread and blackeyed peas and beans and sorghum
+'lasses. Old master give us our rations and iffen dat didn't fill us up,
+we jus' went lank. Sometimes we had possum and rabbits and fish, iffen
+we cotched dem on Sunday. I seed Old Missy parch coffee in a skittle,
+and it good coffee, too. We couldn't go to the store and buy things,
+'cause they warn't no stores hardly.
+
+"When dey's hoein' cotton or corn, everybody has to keep up with de
+driver, not hurry so fast, but workin' steady. Some de women what had
+suckin' babies left dem in de shade while dey worked, and one time a
+big, bald eagle flew down by one dem babies and picked it up and flew
+away with it. De mama couldn't git it and we never heared of dat baby
+'gain.
+
+"I 'member when we come from Mobile to Texas. By time we heared de
+Yankees was comin' dey got all dere gold together and Miss Jane called
+me and give me a whole sack of pure gold and silver, and say bury it in
+de orchard. I sho' was scart, but I done what she said. Dey was more
+gold in a big desk, and de Yanks pulled de top of dat desk and got de
+gold. Miss Jane had a purty gold ring on her finger and de captain
+yanked it off. I said, 'Miss Jane, is dey gwine give you ring back?' All
+she said was, 'Shet you mouth,' and dat's what I did.
+
+"Dat night dey digs up de buried gold and we left out. We jus' traveled
+at night and rested in daytime. We was scart to make a fire. Dat was
+awful times. All on de way to de Mississip', we seed dead men layin'
+everywhere, black and white.
+
+"While we's waitin' to go cross de Mississip' a white man come up and
+asks Marse Barrow how many niggers he has, and counts us all. While we's
+waitin' de guns 'gins to go boom, boom, and you could hear all dat
+noise, it so close. When we gits on de boat it flops dis way and dat
+scart me. I sho' don't want to see no more days like dat one, with war
+and boats.
+
+"We fixes up a purty good house and quarters and gits settled up round
+Athens. And it ain't so long 'fore a paper come make us free. Some de
+slaves laughin' and some cryin' and it a funny place to be. Marse Barrow
+asks my stepma to stay cook and he'd pay her some money for it. We
+stayed four or five years. Marse Barrow give each he slaves somethin'
+when dey's freed. Lots of master put dem out without a thing. But de
+trouble with most niggers, dey never done no managin' and didn't know
+how. De niggers suffered from de war, iffen dey did git freedom from it.
+
+"I's already married de slave way in Mobile and had three chillen. My
+husband died 'fore war am over and I marries Las Gilmore and never has
+no more chillen. I has no livin' kinfolks I knows of. When we come here
+Las done any work he could git and bought this li'l house, but I can't
+pay taxes on it, but, sho', de white folks won't put me out. I done git
+my leg cut off in a train wreck, so I can't work, and I's too old,
+noways. I don't has no idea how old I is.
+
+
+
+
+420245
+
+
+[Illustration: Andrew Goodman]
+
+
+     ANDREW GOODMAN, 97, was born a slave of the Goodman family, near
+     Birmingham, Alabama. His master moved to Smith County, Texas, when
+     Andrew was three years old. Andrew is a frail, kindly old man, who
+     lives in his memories. He lives at 2607 Canton St., Dallas, Texas.
+
+
+"I was born in slavery and I think them days was better for the niggers
+than the days we see now. One thing was, I never was cold and hongry
+when my old master lived, and I has been plenty hongry and cold a lot of
+times since he is gone. But sometimes I think Marse Goodman was the
+bestes' man Gawd made in a long time.
+
+"My mother, Martha Goodman, 'longed to Marse Bob Goodman when she was
+born, but my paw come from Tennessee and Marse Bob heired him from some
+of his kinfolks what died over there. The Goodmans must have been fine
+folks all-a-way round, 'cause my paw said them that raised him was good
+to they niggers.
+
+"Old Marse never 'lowed none of his nigger families separated. He 'lowed
+he thought it right and fittin' that folks stay together, though I heard
+tell of some that didn't think so.
+
+"My Missus was just as good as Marse Bob. My maw was a puny little woman
+that wasn't able to do work in the fields, and she puttered round the
+house for the Missus, doin' little odd jobs. I played round with little
+Miss Sallie and little Mr. Bob, and I ate with them and slept with them.
+I used to sweep off the steps and do things, and she'd brag on me and
+many is the time I'd git to noddin' and go to sleep, and she'd pick me
+up and put me in bed with her chillun.
+
+"Marse Bob didn't put his little niggers in the fields till they's big
+'nough to work, and the mammies was give time off from the fields to
+come back to the nursin' home to suck the babies. He didn't never put
+the niggers out in bad weather. He give us something to do, in out of
+the weather, like shellin' corn and the women could spin and knit. They
+made us plenty of good clothes. In summer we wore long shirts, split up
+the sides, made out of lowerings--that's same as cotton sacks was made
+out of. In winter we had good jeans and knitted sweaters and knitted
+socks.
+
+"My paw was a shoemaker. He'd take a calfhide and make shoes with the
+hairy sides turned in, and they was warm and kept your feet dry. My maw
+spent a lot of time cardin' and spinnin' wool, and I allus had plenty
+things.
+
+"Life was purty fine with Marse Bob. He was a man of plenty. He had a
+lot of land and he built him a big log house when he come to Texas. He
+had sev'ral hundred head of cattle and more than that many hawgs. We
+raised cotton and grain and chickens and vegetables, and most anything
+anybody could ask for. Some places the masters give out a peck of meal
+and so many pounds of meat to a family for them a week's rations, and if
+they et it up that was all they got. But Marse Bob allus give out
+plenty, and said, 'If you need more you can have it, 'cause ain't any
+going to suffer on my place.'
+
+"He built us a church, and a old man, Kenneth Lyons, who was a slave of
+the Lyon's family nearby, used to git a pass every Sunday mornin' and
+come preach to us. He was a man of good learnin' and the best preacher I
+ever heard. He baptised in a little old mudhole down back of our place.
+Nearly all the boys and gals gits converted when they's 'bout twelve or
+fifteen year old. Then on Sunday afternoon, Marse Bob larned us to read
+and write. He told us we oughta git all the learnin' we could.
+
+"Once a week the slaves could have any night they want for a dance or
+frolic. Mance McQueen was a slave 'longing on the Dewberry place, what
+could play a fiddle, and his master give him a pass to come play for us.
+Marse Bob give us chickens or kilt a fresh beef or let us make 'lasses
+candy. We could choose any night, 'cept in the fall of the year. Then we
+worked awful hard and didn't have the time. We had a gin run by
+horsepower and after sundown, when we left the fields, we used to gin a
+bale of cotton every night. Marse allus give us from Christmas Eve
+through New Year's Day off, to make up for the hard work in the fall.
+
+"Christmas time everybody got a present and Marse Bob give a big hawg to
+every four families. We had money to buy whiskey with. In spare time
+we'd make cornshuck horse collars and all kinds of baskets, and Marse
+bought them off us. What he couldn't use, he sold for us. We'd take post
+oak and split it thin with drawin' knives and let it git tough in the
+sun, and then weave it into cotton baskets and fish baskets and little
+fancy baskets. The men spent they money on whiskey, 'cause everything
+else was furnished. We raised our own tobacco and hung it in the barn to
+season, and a'body could go git it when they wanted it.
+
+"We allus got Saturday afternoons off to fish and hunt. We used to have
+fish fries and plenty game in them days.
+
+"Course, we used to hear 'bout other places where they had nigger
+drivers and beat the slaves. But I never did see or hear tell of one of
+master's slaves gittin' a beatin'. We had a overseer, but didn't know
+what a nigger driver was. Marse Bob had some nigger dogs like other
+places, and used to train them for fun. He'd git some the boys to run
+for a hour or so and then put the dogs on the trail. He'd say, 'If you
+hear them gittin' near, take to a tree.' But Marse Bob never had no
+niggers to run off.
+
+"Old man Briscoll, who had a place next to ours, was vicious cruel. He
+was mean to his own blood, beatin' his chillen. His slaves was afeared
+all the time and hated him. Old Charlie, a good, old man who 'longed to
+him, run away and stayed six months in the woods 'fore Briscoll cotched
+him. The niggers used to help feed him, but one day a nigger 'trayed
+him, and Briscoe put the dogs on him and cotched him. He made to Charlie
+like he wasn't goin' to hurt him none, and got him to come peaceful.
+When he took him home, he tied him and beat him for a turrible long
+time. Then he took a big, pine torch and let burnin' pitch drop in spots
+all over him. Old Charlie was sick 'bout four months and then he died.
+
+"Marse Bob knowed me better'n most the slaves, 'cause I was round the
+house more. One day he called all the slaves to the yard. He only had
+sixty-six then, 'cause he had 'vided with his son and daughter when they
+married. He made a little speech. He said, 'I'm going to a war, but I
+don't think I'll be gone long, and I'm turnin' the overseer off and
+leavin' Andrew in charge of the place, and I wants everything to go on,
+just like I was here. Now, you all mind what Andrew says, 'cause if you
+don't, I'll make it rough on you when I come back home.' He was jokin',
+though, 'cause he wouldn't have done nothing to them.
+
+"Then he said to me, 'Andrew, you is old 'nough to be a man and look
+after things. Take care of Missus and see that none the niggers wants,
+and try to keep the place going.'
+
+"We didn't know what the war was 'bout, but master was gone four years.
+When Old Missus heard from him, she'd call all the slaves and tell us
+the news and read us his letters. Little parts of it she wouldn't read.
+We never heard of him gittin' hurt none, but if he had, Old Missus
+wouldn't tell us, 'cause the niggers used to cry and pray over him all
+the time. We never heard tell what the war was 'bout.
+
+"When Marse Bob come home, he sent for all the slaves. He was sittin' in
+a yard chair, all tuckered out, and shuck hands all round, and said he's
+glad to see us. Then he said, 'I got something to tell you. You is jus'
+as free as I is. You don't 'long to nobody but you'selves. We went to
+the war and fought, but the Yankees done whup us, and they say the
+niggers is free. You can go where you wants to go, or you can stay here,
+jus' as you likes.' He couldn't help but cry.
+
+"The niggers cry and don't know much what Marse Bob means. They is sorry
+'bout the freedom, 'cause they don't know where to go, and they's allus
+'pend on Old Marse to look after them. Three families went to get farms
+for theyselves, but the rest just stay on for hands on the old place.
+
+"The Federals has been comin' by, even 'fore Old Marse come home. They
+all come by, carryin' they little budgets, and if they was walkin'
+they'd look in the stables for a horse or mule, and they jus' took what
+they wanted of corn or livestock. They done the same after Marse Bob
+come home. He jus' said, 'Let them go they way, 'cause that's what
+they're going to do, anyway.' We was scareder of them than we was of the
+debbil. But they spoke right kindly to us cullud folks. They said, 'If
+you got a good master and want to stay, well, you can do that, but now
+you can go where you want to, 'cause ain't nobody going to stop you.'
+
+"The niggers can't hardly git used to the idea. When they wants to leave
+the place, they still go up to the big house for a pass. They jus' can't
+understand 'bout the freedom. Old Marse or Missus say, 'You don't need
+no pass. All you got to do is jus' take you foot in you hand and go.'
+
+"It seem like the war jus' plumb broke Old Marse up. It wasn't long till
+he moved into Tyler and left my paw runnin' the farm on a halfance with
+him and the niggers workers. He didn't live long, but I forgits jus' how
+long. But when Mr. Bob heired the old place, he 'lowed we'd jus' go
+'long the way his paw has made the trade with my paw.
+
+"Young Mr. Bob 'parently done the first rascality I ever heard of a
+Goodman doin'. The first year we worked for him we raised lots of grain
+and other things and fifty-seven bales of cotton. Cotton was fifty-two
+cents a pound and he shipped it all away, but all he ever gave us was a
+box of candy and a sack of store tobacco and a sack of sugar. He said
+the 'signment done got lost. Paw said to let it go, 'cause we had allus
+lived by what the Goodman had said.
+
+"I got married and lived on the old place till I was in my late fifties.
+I had seven chillun, but if I got any livin' now, I don't know where
+they is now. My paw and maw got to own a little piece of land not far
+from the old place, and paw lived to be 102 and maw 106. I'm the last
+one of any of my folks.
+
+"For twenty years my health ain't been so good, and I can't work even
+now, though my health is better'n in the past. I had hemorraghes. All my
+folks died on me, and it's purty rough on a old man like me. My white
+folks is all dead or I wouldn't be 'lowed to go hongry and cold like I
+do, or have to pay rent.
+
+
+
+
+420060
+
+
+[Illustration: Austin Grant (A)]
+
+[Illustration: Austin Grant (B)]
+
+
+     AUSTIN GRANT came to Texas from Mississippi with his grandfather,
+     father, mother and brother. George Harper owned the family. He
+     raised cotton on Peach Creek, near Gonzales. Austin was hired out
+     by his master and after the war his father hired him out to the
+     Riley Ranch on Seco Creek, above D'hanis. He then bought a farm in
+     the slave settlement north of Hondo. He is 89 or 90 years old.
+
+
+"I'm mixed up on my age, I'm 'fraid, for the Bible got burned up that
+the master's wife had our ages in. She told me my age, which would make
+me 89, but I believe I come nearer bein' 91, accordin' to the way my
+mother figured it out.
+
+"I belonged to George Harper, he was Judge Harper. The' was my father,
+mother and two boys. He brought us from Mississippi, but I don' 'member
+what part they come from. We settled down here at Gonzeles, on Peach
+Creek, and he farmed one year there. Then he moved out here to Medina
+County, right here on Hondo Creek. I dont 'member how many acres he had,
+but he had a big farm. He had at least eight whole slave families. He
+sold 'em when he wanted money.
+
+"My mother's name was Mary Harper and my father's name was Ike Harper,
+and they belonged to the Harpers, too. You know, after they was turned
+loose they had to name themselves. My father named himself Grant and his
+brother named himself Glover, and my grandfather was Filmore. They had
+some kin' of law you had to git away from your boss' name so they named
+themselves.
+
+"Our house we had to live in, I tell you we had a tough affair, a picket
+concern, you might say no house a-tall. The beds was one of your own
+make; if you knowed how to make one, you had one, but of course the
+chillen slept on the floor, patched up some way.
+
+"We went barefooted in the summer and winter, too. You had to prepare
+that for yourself, and if you didn' have head enough to prepare for
+yourself, you went without. I don' see how they done as well as they
+done, 'cause some winters was awful cold, but I always said the Lawd was
+with 'em.
+
+[Handwritten Note: 'used']
+
+"We didn' have no little garden, we never had no time to work no garden.
+When you could see to work, you was workin' for him. Ho! You didn' know
+what money was. He never paid you anything, you never got to see none.
+Some of the Germans would give the old ones a little piece of money, but
+the chillen, pshaw! They never got to see nothin.'
+
+"He was a pretty good boss. You didn' have to work Sunday and part of
+Saturday and in the evenin', you had that. He fed us good. Sometimes, if
+you was crowded, you had to work all day Saturday. But usually he give
+you that, so you could wash and weave cloth or such. He had cullud women
+there he kep' all the time to weave and spin. They kep' cloth made.
+
+"On Saturday nights, we jes' knocked 'round the place. Christmas? I don'
+know as I was ever home Christmas. My boss kep' me hired out. The slaves
+never had no Christmas presents I know of. And big dinners, I never was
+at nary one. They didn' give us nothin, I tell you, but a grubbin' hoe
+and axe and the whip. They had co'n shuckin's in them days and co'n
+shellin's, too. We would shuck so many days and so many days to shell it
+up.
+
+"We would shoot marbles when we was little. It was all the game the
+niggers ever knowed, was shootin' marbles.
+
+"After work at nights there wasn't much settin' 'round; you'd fall into
+bed and go to sleep. On Saturday night they didn' git together, they
+would jes' sing at their own houses. Oh, yes'm, I 'member 'em singin'
+'Run, nigger, run,' but it's too far back for me to 'member those other
+songs. They would raise up a song when they was pickin' cotton, but I
+don' 'member much about those songs.
+
+"My old boss, I'm boun' to give him praise, he treated his niggers
+right. He made 'em work, though, and he whipped 'em, too. But he fed
+good, too. We had rabbits and possums once in awhile. Hardly ever any
+game, but you might git a deer sometimes.
+
+"Let 'em ketch you with a gun or a piece of paper with writin' on it and
+he'd whip you like everything. Some of the slaves, if they ever did git
+a piece of paper, they would keep it and learn a few words. But they
+didn' want you to know nothin', that's what, nothin' but work. You would
+think they was goin' to kill you, he would whip you so if he caught you
+with a piece of paper. You couldn' have nothin' but a pick and axe and
+grubbin' hoe.
+
+"We never got to play none. Our boss hired us out lots of times. I don'
+know what he got for us. We farmed, cut wood, grubbed, anything. I
+herded sheep and I picked cotton.
+
+"We got up early, you betcha. You would be out there by time you could
+see and you quit when it was dark. They tasked us. They would give us
+200 or 300 pounds of cotton to bring in and you would git it, and if you
+didn' git it, you better, or you would git it tomorrow, or your back
+would git it. Or you'd git it from someone else, maybe steal it from
+their sacks.
+
+"My grandfather, he would tell us things, to keep the whip off our
+backs. He would say, 'Chillen, work, work and work hard. You know how
+you hate to be whipped, so work hard!' And of course we chillen tried,
+but of course we would git careless sometimes.
+
+"The master had a 'black snake'--some called it a 'bull whip,' and he
+knew how to use it. He whipped, but I don' 'member now whether he
+brought any blood on me, but he cut the blood outta the grown ones. He
+didn' tie 'em, he always had a whippin' block or log to make 'em lay
+down on. They called 500 licks a 'light breshin,' and right on your
+naked back, too. They said your clothes wouldn' grow but your hide
+would. From what I heered say, if you run away, then was when they give
+you a whippin,' prob'bly 1500 or 2000 licks. They'd shore tie you down
+then, 'cause you couldn' stan' it. Then you'd have to work on top of all
+that, with your shirt stickin' to your back.
+
+"The overseer woke us up. Sometimes he had a kin' of horn to blow, and
+when you heered that horn, you'd better git up. He would give you a good
+whippin' iffen he had to come and wake you up. He was the meanest one on
+the place, worse'n the boss man.
+
+"The boss man had a nice rock house, and the women didn' work at all.
+
+"I never did see any slaves auctioned off, but I heered of it. My boss
+he would take 'em there and sell 'em.
+
+"They had a church this side of New Fountain and the boss man 'lowed us
+to go on Sunday. If any of the slaves did join, they didn' baptize them,
+as I know of.
+
+"When one of the slaves would die, they would bury 'em on the land
+there. Reg'lar little cemetery there. Oh, yes, they would have doctors
+for 'em. If anybody died, they would tell some of the other slaves to
+dig the grave and take 'em out there and bury 'em. They jes' put 'em in
+a box, no preachin' or nothin.' But, of course, if it was Sunday the
+slaves would follow out there and sing. No, if they didn' die on Sunday,
+you couldn' go; you went to that field.
+
+"If you wanted to go to any other plantation you had to git a pass to go
+over there, and if you didn' and got caught, you got one of the worst
+whippins'. If things happened and they wanted to tell 'em on other
+plantations, they would slip out at night and tell 'em.
+
+"We never heered much about the fightin' or how it was goin.' When the
+war finally was over, our old boss called us all up and had us to stand
+in abreast, and he stood on the gallery and he read the verdict to 'em,
+and said, 'Now, you can jes' work on if you want to, and I'll treat you
+jes' like I always did.' I guess when he said that they knew what he
+meant. The' wasn't but one family left with 'im. They stayed about two
+years. But the rest was just like birds, they jes' flew.
+
+"I went with my father and he hired me out for two years, to a man named
+Riley, over on the Seco. I did most everythin', worked the field and was
+house rustler, too. But I had a good time there. After I left 'im, I
+came to D'Hanis. I worked on a church house they was buildin'. Then I
+went back to my father and worked for him a long time, freightin' cotton
+to Eagle Pass. I used horses and mules and hauled cotton and flour and
+whiskey and things like that.
+
+"I met my wife down on Black Creek, and I freighted two years after we
+was married. We got married so long ago, but in them days anything would
+do. You see, these days they are so proud, but we was glad to have
+anything. I had a black suit to be married in, and a pretty long shirt,
+and I wore boots. She wore a white dress, but in them days they didn'
+have black shoes. Yes'm, they had a dance, down here on Black Creek.
+Danced half the night at her house and two men played the fiddle. Eat?
+We had everythin' to eat, a barbecued calf and a hog, too, and all kinds
+of cakes and pies. Drink? Why, the men had whiskey to drink and the
+women drank coffee. We married about 7 or 8 in the evenin' at her house.
+My wife's name was Sarah Ann Brackins.
+
+"Did I see a ghost? Well, over yonder on the creek was a ghost. It was a
+moonlight night and it passed right by me and it never had no head on it
+a-tall. It almost breshed me. It kep' walkin' right by side of me. I
+shore saw it and I run like a good fellow. Lots of 'em could see
+wonnurful sights then and I heered lots of noises, but that's the only
+ghost I ever seen.
+
+"No, I never knowed nothing 'bout charms. I've seen 'em have a rabbit
+heel or coon heel for good luck. I seen a woman one time that was
+tricked, or what I'd call poisoned. A place on her let, it was jes' the
+shape of these little old striped lizards. It was somethin' they called
+'trickin it,' and a person that knowed to trick you would put it there
+to make you suffer the balance of your days. It would go 'round your leg
+clear to the hip and be between the skin and the flesh. They called it
+the devil's work."
+
+
+
+
+420118
+
+
+[Illustration: James Green]
+
+
+     JAMES GREEN is half American Indian and half Negro. He was born a
+     slave to John Williams, of Petersburg, Va., became a "free boy",
+     then was kidnapped and sold in a Virginia slave market to a Texas
+     ranchman. He now lives at 323 N. Olive St., San Antonio, Texas.
+
+
+"I never knowed my age till after de war, when I's set free de second
+time, and then marster gits out a big book and it shows I's 25 year old.
+It shows I's 12 when I is bought and $800 is paid for me. That $800 was
+stolen money, 'cause I was kidnapped and dis is how it come:
+
+"My mammy was owned by John Williams in Petersburg, in Virginia, and I
+come born to her on dat plantation. Den my father set 'bout to git me
+free, 'cause he a full-blooded Indian and done some big favor for a big
+man high up in de courts, and he gits me set free, and den Marster
+Williams laughs and calls me 'free boy.'
+
+"Then, one day along come a Friday and that a unlucky star day and I
+playin' round de house and Marster Williams come up and say, 'Delia,
+will you 'low Jim walk down de street with me?' My mammy say, 'All
+right, Jim, you be a good boy,' and dat de las' time I ever heared her
+speak, or ever see her. We walks down whar de houses grows close
+together and pretty soon comes to de slave market. I ain't seed it
+'fore, but when Marster Williams says, 'Git up on de block,' I got a
+funny feelin', and I knows what has happened. I's sold to Marster John
+Pinchback and he had de St. Vitus dance and he likes to make he niggers
+suffer to make up for his squirmin' and twistin' and he the bigges'
+debbil on earth.
+
+"We leaves right away for Texas and goes to marster's ranch in Columbus.
+It was owned by him and a man call Wright, and when we gits there I's
+put to work without nothin' to eat. Dat night I makes up my mind to run
+away but de nex' day dey takes me and de other niggers to look at de
+dogs and chooses me to train de dogs with. I's told I had to play I
+runnin' away and to run five mile in any way and then climb a tree. One
+of de niggers tells me kind of nice to climb as high in dat tree as I
+could if I didn't want my body tore off my legs. So I runs a good five
+miles and climbs up in de tree whar de branches is gettin' small.
+
+"I sits dere a long time and den sees de dogs comin'. When dey gits
+under de tree dey sees me and starts barkin'. After dat I never got
+thinkin' of runnin' away.
+
+"Time goes on and de war come along, but everything goes on like it did.
+Some niggers dies, but more was born, 'cause old Pinchback sees to dat.
+He breeds niggers as quick as he can, 'cause dat money for him. No one
+had no say who he have for wife. But de nigger husbands wasn't de only
+ones dat keeps up havin' chillen, 'cause de marsters and de drivers
+takes all de nigger gals dey wants. Den de chillen was brown and I seed
+one clear white one, but dey slaves jus' de same.
+
+"De end of dat war comes and old Pinchback says, 'You niggers all come
+to de big house in de mornin'. He tells us we is free and he opens his
+book and gives us all a name and tells us whar we comes from and how old
+we is, and says he pay us 40 cents a day to stay with him. I stays 'bout
+a year and dere's no big change. De same houses and some got whipped but
+nobody got nailed to a tree by de ears, like dey used to. Finally old
+Pinchback dies and when he buried de lightnin' come and split de grave
+and de coffin wide open.
+
+"Well, time goes on some more and den Lizzie and me, we gits together
+and we marries reg'lar with a real weddin'. We's been together a long
+time and we is happy.
+
+"I 'members a old song like dis:
+
+  "'Old marster eats beef and sucks on de bone,
+          And give us de gristle--
+      To make, to make, to make, to make,
+          To make de nigger whistle.'
+
+"Dat all de song I 'member from dose old days, 'ceptin' one more:
+
+  "'I goes to church in early morn,
+  De birds just a-sittin' on de tree--
+  Sometimes my clothes gits very much worn--
+  'Cause I wears 'em out at de knee.
+
+  "'I sings and shouts with all my might,
+      To drive away de cold--
+  And de bells keep ringin' in gospel light,
+      Till de story of de Lamb am told.'"
+
+
+
+
+420064
+
+
+[Illustration: O.W. Green and Granddaughter]
+
+
+     O.W. Green, son of Frank and of Mary Ann Marks, was born in slavery
+     at Bradly Co., Arkansas, June 26, 1859. His owners, the Mobley
+     family, owned a large plantation and two or three thousand slaves.
+     Jack Mobley, Green's young master, was killed in the Civil War, and
+     Green became one of the "orphan chillen." When the Ku Klux Klan
+     became active, the "orphan chillen" were taken to Little Rock, Ark.
+     Later on, Green moved to Del Rio, Texas, where he now lives.
+
+
+"I was bo'ned in Arkansas. Frank Marks was my father and Mary Ann Marks
+my mother. She was bo'n on the plantation. I had two brothers.
+
+"I don' 'member de quarters, but dey mus' of had plenty, 'cause dey was
+two, three thousand slaves on de plantation. All my kin people belonged
+to Massa Mobley. My grandfather was a millman and dey had one de bigges'
+grist mills in de country.
+
+"Our Massa was good and we had plenty for to eat. Dere was no jail for
+slaves on our place but not far from dere was a jail.
+
+"De Ku Klux Klan made everything pretty squally, so dey taken de orphan
+chillen to Little Rock and kep' 'em two, three years. Dere was lots of
+slaves in dat country 'round Rob Roy and Free Nigger Bend. Old
+Churchill, who used to be governor, had a plantation in dere.
+
+"When I was nine years ol' dey had de Bruce and Baxter revolution. 'Twas
+more runnin' dan fightin'. Bruce was 'lected for governor but Baxter
+said he'd be governor if he had to run Brooks into de sea.
+
+"My young Massa, Jack Mobley, was killed in de war, is how I come to be
+one of de orphan chillen.
+
+"While us orphan chillen was at Little Rock dere come a terrible
+soreness of de eyes. I heard tell 'twas caused from de cholera. Every
+little child had to take turns about sittin' by de babies or totin'
+them. I was so blind, my eyes was so sore, I couldn't see. The doctor's
+wife was working with us. She was tryin' to figure up a cure for our
+sore eyes, first using one remedy and den another. An old herb doctor
+told her about a herb he had used on de plantations to cure de slaves'
+sore eyes. Dey boiled de herb and put hit on our eyes, on a white cloth.
+De doctor's wife had a little boy about my age. He would play with me,
+and thought I was about hit. He would lead me around, then he would run
+off and leave me and see if I could see. One day between 'leven and
+twelve o'clock--I never will fergit hit--he taken me down to de mess
+room. De lady was not quite ready to dress my eyes. She told me to go on
+and come back in a little while. When I got outside I tore dat old rag
+off of my eyes and throwed hit down. I told the little boy, 'O, I can
+see you!' He grabbed me by de arm and ran yellin' to his mammy, 'Mama,
+he can see! Mama, Owen can see!' I neva will fo'git dat word. Dey were
+all in so a rejoicin', excitable way. I was de first one had his eyes
+cured. Dey sent de lady to New York and she made plenty of money from
+her remedy.
+
+"Things sure was turrible durin' de war. Dey just driv us in front of de
+soldiers. Dere was lots of cholera. We was just bedded together lak
+hogs. The Ku Klux Klan come behind de soldiers, killin' and robbin'.
+
+"After two or three years in de camp with de orphans, my kin found me
+and took me home.
+
+"My grandfather and uncle was in de fightin'. My grandfather was a wagon
+man. De las' trip he made, he come home bringin' a load of dead soldiers
+to be buried. My grandfather told de people all about de war. He said
+hit sure was terrible.
+
+"When de war was over de people jus' shouted for joy. De men and women
+jus' shouted for joy. 'Twas only because of de prayers of de cullud
+people, dey was freed, and de Lawd worked through Lincoln.
+
+"My old masta was a doctor and a surgeon. He trained my grandmother; she
+worked under him thirty-seven years as a nurse. When old masta wanted
+grandmother to go on a special case he would whip her so she wouldn't
+tell none of his secrets. Grandmother used herbs fo' medicine--black
+snake root, sasparilla, blackberry briar roots--and nearly all de
+young'uns she fooled with she save from diarrhea.
+
+"My old masta was good, but when he found you shoutin' he burnt your
+hand. My grandmother said he burnt her hand several times. Masta
+wouldn't let de cullud folks have meetin', but dey would go out in de
+woods in secret to pray and preach and shout.
+
+"I jist picked up enough readin' to read my bible and scratch my name. I
+went to school one mo'ning and didn't git along wid de teacher so I
+didn't go no mo'.
+
+"I 'member my folks had big times come Christmas. Dey never did work on
+Sundays, jist set around and rest. Dey never worked in bad weather. Dey
+never did go to de field till seven o'clock.
+
+"I married in 1919. I have two step-daughters and one step-son. My
+step-son lives in San Antonio. I have six step-grandchillen. I was a
+member of de Baptist church befo' you was bo'n, lady.
+
+
+
+
+420394
+
+
+Dibble, Fred
+Beaumont, Jefferson Co. Dist. #3
+
+     ROSA GREEN, 85 years old, was born at Ketchi, Louisiana, but as
+     soon as she was old enough became a housegirl on the plantation of
+     Major "Bob" Hollingsworth at Mansfield, Louisiana. To the best of
+     her knowledge, she was about 13 when the "freedom papers" were
+     read. She had had 13 children by her two husbands, both deceased,
+     and lives with her youngest daughter in Beaumont. Their one-room,
+     unpainted house is one of a dozen unprepossessing structures
+     bordering an alleyway leading off Pine Street. Rosa, a spry little
+     figure, crowned with short, snow-white pigtails extending in
+     various directions, spends most of her time tending her small
+     flowerbeds and vegetable garden. She is talkative and her memory
+     seems quite active.
+
+
+"When de w'ite folks read de freedom paper I was 13 year old. I jes'
+lean up agin de porch, 'cause I didn' know den what it was all about. I
+war'nt bo'n in Texas, I was bo'n in Ketchi, but I was rais' in Manfiel'.
+Law, yes, I 'member de fight at Manfiel'. My ol' marster tuk all he
+niggers and lef' at night. Lef' us little ones; say de Yankees could git
+us effen day wan' to, 'cause we no good no way, and I wouldn' care if
+dey did git us. Dey put us in a sugar hogshead and give us a spoon to
+scrape out de sugar. 'Bout de ol' plantation, I work a little w'ile in
+de fiel'. I didn' know den like I see now. Dese chillen bo'n wid mo'
+sense now dan we was den. Dey was 'bout ten cullud folks on de place. My
+ol' marster name Bob Hollingsworth, but dey call 'im Major, 'cause he
+was a major in de war, not de las' one, but de one way back yonder. Ol'
+missus work de little ones roun' de house and under de house and kep'
+ev'yt'ing clean as yo' han'. The ol' marster I thought was de meanes'
+man de Lawd ever made. Look like he cuss ev'y time he open he mouth. De
+neighbor w'ite folks, some good, some bad. My work was cleanin' up 'roun
+de house and nussin' de chillen. Only times I went to church when day
+tuk us long to min' de chillen. When de battle of Manfiel' was, we didn'
+git out much. When de Yankees was comin' to Gran' Cane, my w'ite folks
+dig a big pit and put der meat and flour and all in it and cover it over
+wid dirt and put wagon loads of pine straw over it. It was 'bout five or
+six mile to Manfield and 'bout 49 or 50 mile to Shreveport. My ol'
+marster tuk all he niggers and went off somweres, dey called it Texas,
+but I didn' know where. De ol'er ones farm. Dey rais' ev'yt'ing dey
+could put in de groun', dey did. My pa was kirrige(carriage) driver for
+my ol' missus. He was boss nigger fo' de cullud men when marster wan't
+right dere. My father jis' stay dere. See, dey free our people in July.
+Dat leave de whole crop stanin' dere in de fiel'. Dey had to stay dere
+and take care of de crop. After dat dey commence makin' contraks and
+bargins. I was 22 years ol' when I marry de fus' time. Both my husban's
+dead. I had 13 chillen in all.
+
+"De fus' time I went to church, missus tuk me and another gal to min' de
+chillen. I never heared a preacher befo'. I 'member how de preacher word
+de hymn:
+
+  'Come, ye sinners, po' and needy.
+  Weak and wounded, sick and so'.'
+
+"I couldn' understan' it, but now when I look down on it I sees it now.
+I bleeve us been here goin' on fo' year' right yere in dis house."
+
+
+
+
+420078
+
+
+[Illustration: William Green, (Rev. Bill) (A)]
+
+[Illustration: William Green, (Rev. Bill) (B)]
+
+
+     WILLIAM GREEN, or "Reverend Bill", as he is call by the other
+     Negroes, was brought to Texas from Mississippi in 1862. His master
+     was Major John Montgomery. William is 87 years old. He has lived in
+     San Antonio, Texas, for 50 years.
+
+
+"I is Reverend Bill, all right, but I is 'fraid dat compliment don't
+belong to me no more, 'cause I quit preachin' in favor of de young men.
+
+"I kin tell you my 'speriences in savin'--mis'ry dat was, is peace dat
+is. I tells you dis 'spite of bein' alone in de world with no chillun.
+
+"I is raised a slave and 'mancipated in June, but I 'members de old
+plantation whar I is born. Massa John Montgomery, he owned me, and he
+went to de war and git kilt. I knowed 'bout de war, though us slaves
+wasn't sposed to know nothin' 'bout it. I was livin' in Texas then,
+'cause Massa John moved over here from Mis'sippi. In dat place niggers
+was allus wrong, no matter what, but it was better in dis place. We used
+to think we was lucky to git over here to Texas, and we used to sing a
+song 'bout it:
+
+  "'Over yonder is de wild-goose nation,
+  Whar old missus has sugar plantation--
+  Sugar grows sweet but de plantation's sour,
+  'cause de nigger jump and run every hour.
+
+  "'I has you all to know, you all to know,
+  Dare's light on de shore,
+  Says little Bill to big Bill,
+  There's a li'l nigger to write and cipher.'
+
+"I don't know what de song meant but we thought we'd git free here in
+Texas, and we'd git eddicated, and dat's de meanin' of de talk about
+writin' and cipherin'.
+
+"Well, when I is free I isn't free, 'cause de boss wants me and another
+boy to stay till we's 21 year old. But old Judge Longworth, he come down
+dere and dere was pretty near a fight, and he 'splains to us we was
+free.
+
+"'bout five year after dat I takes up preachin' and I preaches for a
+long time, and I works on a farm, half and half with de owner. I has a
+good life, but now I's too old to preach.
+
+
+
+
+420041
+
+
+[Illustration: Pauline Grice]
+
+
+     PAULINE GRICE, 81, was born a slave of John Blackshier, who owned
+     her mother, about 150 slaves, 50 slave children, and a large
+     plantation near Atlanta, Georgia. Pauline married Navasota Grice in
+     1875 and they moved to Texas in 1917. Since her husband's death in
+     1928 Pauline has depended on the charity of friends, with whom she
+     lives at 2504 Ross Ave., North Fort Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"White man, dis old cullud woman am not strong. 'Bout all my substance
+am gone now. De way you sees me layin' on dis bed am what I has to do
+mos' de time. My mem'randum not so good like 'twas.
+
+"De place I am borned am right near Atlanta, in Georgia, and on dat
+plantation of Massa John Blackshier. A big place, with 'bout 150 growed
+slaves and 'bout 50 pickininnies. I doesn't work till near de surrender,
+'cause I's too small. But us don't leave Massa John, us go right on
+workin' for him like 'fore.
+
+"Massa John am de kind massa and don't have whuppin's. He tell de
+overseer, 'If you can't make dem niggers work without de whup, den you
+not de man I wants.' Mos' de niggers 'have theyselves and when dey don't
+massa put dem in de li'l house what he call de jail, with nothin' to eat
+till deys ready to do what he say. Onct or twict he sell de nigger what
+won't do right and do de work.
+
+"Us have de cabin what am made from logs but us only sleeps dere. All us
+cookin' done in de big kitchen. Dere am three women what do dat, and
+give us de meals in de long shed with de long tables.
+
+"To de bes' of dis nigger's mem'randum, de feed am good. Plenty of
+everything and corn am de mostest us have. Dere am cornbread and
+cornmeal mush and corn hominy and corn grits and parched corn for drink,
+'stead of tea or coffee. Us have milk and 'lasses and brown sugar, and
+some meat. Dat all raise on de place. Stuff for to eat and wear, dat am
+made by us cullud folks and dat place am what dey calls se'f-s'portin'.
+De shoemaker make all de shoes and fix de leather, too.
+
+"After breakfas' in de mornin' de niggers am gwine here, dere and
+everywhere, jus' like de big factory. Every one to he job, some
+a-whistlin', some a-singin'. Dey sings diff'rent songs and dis am one
+when deys gwine to work:
+
+  "'Old cotton, old corn, see you every morn,
+  Old cotton, old corn, see you since I's born.
+  Old cotton, old corn, hoe you till dawn,
+  Old cotton, old corn, what for you born?'
+
+"Yes, suh, everybody happy on massa's place till war begin. He have two
+sons and Willie am 'bout 18 and Dave am 'bout 17. Dey jines de army and
+after 'bout a year, massa jine too, and, course, dat make de missy awful
+sad. She have to 'pend on de overseer and it warn't like massa keep
+things runnin'.
+
+"In de old days, if de niggers wants de party, massa am de big toad in
+de puddle. And Christmas, it am de day for de big time. A tree am fix,
+and some present for everyone. De white preacher talk 'bout Christ. Us
+have singin' and 'joyment all day. Den at night, de big fire builded and
+all us sot 'round it. Dere am 'bout hundred hawg bladders save from hawg
+killin'. So, on Christmas night, de chillen takes dem and puts dem on de
+stick. Fust dey is all blowed full of air and tied tight and dry. Den
+de chillen holds de bladder in de fire and purty soon, 'B A N G,'
+dey goes. Dat am de fireworks.
+
+"Dat all changed after massa go to war. Fust de 'federate sojers come
+and takes some mules and hosses, den some more come for de corn. After
+while, de Yankee sojers comes and takes some more. When dey gits
+through, dey ain't much more tookin' to be done. De year 'fore
+surrender, us am short of rations and sometime us hongry. Us sees no
+battlin' but de cannon bang all day. Once, dey bang two whole days
+'thout hardly stoppin'. Dat am when missy go tech in de head, 'cause
+massa and de boys in dat battle. She jus' walk 'round de yard and twist
+de hands and say, 'Dey sho' git kilt. Dey sho' dead.' Den when extra
+loud noise come from de cannon, she scream. Den word come Willie am
+kilt. She gits over it, but she am de diff'rent woman. For her, it am
+trouble, trouble and more trouble.
+
+"She can't sell de cotton. Dey done took all de rations and us couldn't
+eat de cotton. One day she tell us, 'De war am on us. De sojers done
+took de rations. I can't sell de cotton, 'cause of de blockade.' I don't
+know what am dat blockade, but she say it. 'Now,' she say, 'All you
+cullud folks born and raise here and us allus been good to you. I can't
+holp it 'cause rations am short and I'll do all I can for you. Will yous
+be patient with me?' All us stay dere and holp missy all us could.
+
+"Den massa come home and say, 'Yous gwine be free. Far as I cares, you
+is free now, and can stay here and tough it through or go where you
+wants. I thanks yous for all de way yous done while I's gone, and I'll
+holp you all I can.' Us all stay and it sho' am tough times. Us have
+most nothin' to eat and den de Ku Klux come 'round dere. Massa say not
+mix with dat crowd what lose de head, jus' stay to home and work. Some
+dem niggers on other plantations ain't keep de head and dey gits whupped
+and some gits kilt, but us does what massa say and has no trouble with
+dem Klux.
+
+"It 'bout two year after freedom mammy gits marry and us goes and works
+on shares. I stays with dem till 1875 and den marries Navasota Robert
+Grice and us live by farmin' till he die, nine year since. 'Bout 20 year
+since us come here from Georgia and works de truck farm. I has two
+chillen but dey dead. De way I feels now, 'twon't be long 'fore I goes,
+too. My friends is good to me and lets me stay with dem.
+
+
+
+
+420107
+
+
+[Illustration: Mandy Hadnot]
+
+
+     MANDY HADNOT, small and forlorn looking, as she lies in a huge,
+     old-fashioned wooden bed, appears very black in contrast to the
+     clean white sheets and a thick mop of snowy wool on her head. She
+     does not know her age, but from her appearance and the details she
+     remembers of her years as slave in the Slade home, near Cold
+     Springs, Texas, she must be very old. She lives in Woodville,
+     Texas, with her husband, Josh, to whom she has been married 13
+     years.
+
+
+"I's too small to 'member my father, 'cause he die when I jus' a baby.
+Dey was my mudder and me and de ole mistus and marster on de plantation.
+It were mo' jus' a farm, but dey raise us all we need to eat and feed de
+cows and hosses.
+
+"De earlies' 'membrance I hab is when de ole marster drive into de town
+for supplies every two weeks. Us place was right near Col' Springs. He
+was a good man. He treat dis lil' darky jus' like he own chile, 'cause
+he never hab any chillen of his own. I know 'bout de time he comin' home
+when he go to town and I wait down by de big gate. Purty soon I see de
+big ox comin' and see de smoke from de road dust flyin'. Den I know he
+almos' home and I holler and wave my han' and he holler and wave he han'
+right back. He allus brung me somethin', jus' like I he own little gal.
+Sometime he brung me a whistle or some candy or doll or somethin'.
+
+"One Easter he brung me de purties' lil' hat I ever did see. My ole
+mistus took me to Sunday school with her and I spruce up in dat hat.
+
+"Every Christmas 'fore ole marster die he fix me up a tree out de woods.
+Dey put popco'n on it to trim it and dey give me sometime a purty dress
+or shoes and plenty candy and maybe a big, red apple. Dey hab a big san'
+pile for me to play in, but I never play with any other chillen. My
+mammy, Emily Budle, she cook and clean up mistus log house cabin. After
+de ole marster die dey both work in de fiel' and raise plenty vegetables
+to can and eat. My task was to shell peas and watch and stir de big
+cookin' pots on de fireplace.
+
+"My mistus hav lots of company. When she come in and say, 'Mandy, shine
+up de knife and fork and put de polish on de pianny, I allus happy,
+'cause I lub to see folks come. Us hab chicken and all kinds of good
+things. De preacher, he was big, jolly man, he come to de house 'bout
+one Sunday in every month. Sometime dey brung lil' white chillen to
+dinner. Den us play
+
+  'Rabbit, rabbit.
+  Jump fru' de crack.'
+
+and
+
+  'Kitty, kitty,
+  In de corner,
+  Meow, meow,
+  Run, kitty, run.'
+
+"De ole marster pick me out a lil', gentle hoss named Julie and dat was
+my very own hoss. It was jus' a common lil' hoss. I uster sneak sugar
+out de barrel to feed Julie. Dey had a big smokehouse on de farm where
+dey kep' all kin's of good things like sugar and sich. Dey had fruits of
+all kin's put up.
+
+"Every mornin' de ole mistus took out de big Bible and hab prayer
+meetin' for jus' us three. Us never learn read much, tho' she try teach
+me some. When I's 'bout nine year ole she buy me a purty white dress
+and took me to jine de church. She was a little, white-hair' woman, what
+never los' her temper 'bout nothin'. She use' to let me bump on her
+pianny and didn' say nothin'. She couldn' play de pianny but she kinder
+hope maybe I could, but I never did learn how.
+
+"When freedom come my mudder and me pay no 'tention to it. Us stay right
+on de place. Purty soon my mudder die and I jus' took up her shoes. One
+day I's makin' a bonfire in de yard and ketch my dress on fire. De whol
+side of my lef' leg mos' bu'n off. Mistus was so lil' she couldn' lif'
+me but she fin'ly git me to bed. Dere I stay for long, long time, and
+she wait on me han' and feet. She make linseed poultice and kep' de bu'n
+grease good. Mos' time she leave all de wo'k stan' in de middle of de
+floor and read de Bible and pray for me to git heal up and not suffer.
+She cry right 'long with me when I cry, 'cause I hurt so.
+
+"When I's 16 year ole I want to hab courtin'. Mistus 'low me to hab de
+boy come right to de big house to see me. He come two mile every Sunday
+and us go to Lugene Baptist church. Den she hav nice Sunday dinner for
+both us. She let me go to ice cream supper, too. Dey didn' hab no
+freezer den, jus' a big pan in some ice. De boys and girls took tu'ns
+stirrin' de cream. It never git real ha'd but stay kinder slushy. Dey
+serve cake. Us hav pie supper, too. Whoever git de girl's pie eat it
+with her.
+
+"My ole mistus she pay me money right 'long after freedom but I too
+close to spen' any. Den when I 'cide to marry Bob Thomas, she he'p me
+fix a hope ches'. I buys goods for sheets and table kivers and one nice
+Sunday set dishes.
+
+"Us marry right in de parlor of de mistus house. De white man preacher
+marry us and mistus she give me 'way. Ole mistus he'p me make my weddin'
+dress outta white lawn. I hab purty long, black hair and a veil with a
+ribbon 'round de fron'. De weddin' feas' was strawberry ice cream and
+yaller cake. Ole mistus giv me my bedstead, one of her purtiest ones,
+and de set dishes and glasses us eat de weddin' dinner outta. My husban'
+gib me de trabblin' dress, but I never use dat dress for three weeks,
+though, 'cause ole mistus cry so when I hafter leave dat I stay for
+three weeks after I marry.
+
+"She all 'lone in de big house and I think it break her heart. I ain'
+been gone to de sawmill town very long when she sen' for me. I go to see
+her and took a peach pie, 'cause I lub her and I know dat's what she
+like better'n anything. She was sick and she say, 'Mandy, dis de las'
+time us gwineter see each other, 'cause I ain' gwineter git well. You be
+a good girl and try to git through de worl' dat way.' Den she make me
+say de Lord Prayer for her jus' like she allus make me say it for a
+night prayer when I lil' gal. I never see her no mo'.
+
+"Me and Bob Thomas and dis husban', Josh, what I marry thirteen year
+ago, hab 'bout 10 chillen all togedder. Us been lib here many a year. I
+don' care so much 'bout leavin' dis yearthly home, 'cause I knows I
+gwineter see de ole mistus up dere and I tell her I allus 'member what
+she tell me and try lib dat way all time.
+
+
+
+
+420237
+
+
+[Illustration: William Hamilton]
+
+
+     WILLIAM HAMILTON belonged to a slave trader, who left him on the
+     Buford plantation, near Village Creek, Texas. The trader did not
+     return, so the Buford family raised the child with their slaves.
+     William now lives at 910 E. Weatherford St., Ft. Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"Who I is, how old I is and where I is born, I don't know. But Massa
+Buford told me how durin' de war a slave trader name William Hamilton,
+come to Village Creek, where Massa Buford live. Dat trader was on his
+way south with my folks and a lot of other slaves, takin' 'em
+somewheres, to sell. He camped by Massa Buford's plantation and asks
+him, 'Can I leave dis li'l nigger here till I comes back?' Massa Buford
+say, 'Yes,' and de trader say he'll be back in 'bout three weeks, soon
+as he sells all the slaves. He mus' still be sellin' 'em, 'cause he
+never comes back so far and there I am and my folks am took on, and I is
+too li'l to 'member 'em, so I never knows my pappy and mammy. Massa
+Buford says de trader comes from Missouri, but if I is born dere I don't
+know.
+
+"De only thing I 'members 'bout all dat, am dere am lots of cryin' when
+dey tooks me 'way from my mammy. Dat something I never forgits.
+
+"I only 'members after de war, and most de cullud folks stays with Massa
+Buford after surrender and works de land on shares. Dey have good times
+on dat place, and don't want to leave. Day has dances and fun till de Ku
+Klux org'nizes and den it am lots of trouble. De Klux comes to de dance
+and picks out a nigger and whups him, jus' to keep de niggers scart, and
+it git so bad dey don't have no more dances or parties.
+
+"I 'members seein' Faith Baldwin and Jeb Johnson and Dan Hester gittin'
+whupped by de Klux. Dey wasn't so bad after women. It am allus after
+dark when dey comes to de house and catches de man and whups him for
+nothin'. Dey has de power, and it am done for to show dey has de power.
+It gits so bad round dere, dat de menfolks allus eats supper befo' dark
+and takes a blanket and goes to de woods for to sleep. Alex Buford don't
+sleep in de house for one whole summer.
+
+"No one knowed when de Klux comin'. All a-sudden up dey gallops on
+hosses, all covered with hoods, and bust right into de house. Jus'
+latches 'stead of locks was used dem days. Dey comes sev'ral times to
+Alex' house but never cotches him. I'd hear dem comin' when dey hit de
+lane and I'd holler, 'De Klux am comin'.' It was my job, after dark,
+listenin' for dem Klux, den I gits under de bed.
+
+"Why dey comes so many times round dere, am 'cause de second time dey
+comes, Jane Bensom am dere. Jane am lots of woman, wide as de door and
+tall, and weighs 'bout three hunder pounds. I calls, 'Here comes de
+Klux,' and makes for under de bed. There am embers in de fireplace and
+she fills a pail with dem and when de Klux busts in de door she lets dem
+have de embers in de face, and den out de back door she goes. Two of dem
+am burnt purty bad. De nex' night back dey comes and asks where Jane am.
+She 'longs to Massa John Ditto and am so big everybody knows her, but de
+niggers won't tell on her. She leaves de country fin'ly, but dey comes
+lookin' for her every night for two months.
+
+"Right over on Massa Ditto's place, am a killin' of a baby by dem Klux.
+De baby am in de mammy's arms and a bunch of Klux ridin' by takes a
+shot at de mammy, and it hits de baby and kills it.
+
+"Right after de baby killin', sojers with blue coats comes dere and
+camps front of Massa Buford's place and pertects de cullud folks. I goes
+over to dey camp every day and dey gives me lots of good eats.
+
+"De cullud folks has lots of trouble after de war, 'cause dey am ir'rant
+niggers and gits foolishment in de head. They gits de idea de white
+folks should give dem land and mules and sich. Over in de valley, Massa
+Moses owns lots of land and fifty nigger families, and he gives each
+family a deed to 'bout fifty acres. Some dem cullud folks grandchillen
+still on dat land, too, de Parkers and Farrows and Nelsons and some
+others. Den all de other niggers thinks dey should git land, too, but
+dey don't, and it make dem git foolishment and git in trouble.
+
+"In 1897 I marries Effie Coleman and has no chillens, so I is alone in
+de world now. I can't do much and lives on de $10.00 de month pension.
+De white folks lets me live in dis shack for mowin' de lawn, but I
+worries 'bout when I can't do no more work. It am de awful way to spend
+you last days.
+
+
+
+
+420163
+
+
+     PIERCE HARPER, 86, was born on the Subbs plantation near Snow Hill,
+     North Carolina. When eight years old he was sold for $1,150
+     [Handwritten Note: '?'] to the Harper family, who lived in Snow
+     Hill. After the Civil War, Pierce farmed a small place near Snow
+     Hill and saw many raids of the Klu Klux Klan. He came to Galveston,
+     Texas, in 1877. Pierce attended a Negro school after he was grown,
+     learned to read and write, and is interested in the betterment of
+     his race.
+
+
+"When you ask me is I Pierce Harper, you kind of 'sprised me. I reckoned
+everybody know old Pierce Harper. Sister Johnson say to me outside of
+services last Sunday night, 'Brother Harper, you is de beatines' man I
+ever seen. You know everybody and everybody know you.' And I said,
+'Sister Johnson, dat's 'cause I keep faith with de Lawd. I love de Lawd
+and my neighbors and de Lawd and my neighbors love me.' Dat's what my
+old mother told me 'way back in slavery, before I was ever sold. But
+here I is talking 'bout myself when you want to hear me talk 'bout
+slavery. Let's see, now.
+
+"I was born way back in 1851 in North Carolina, on Mr. Subbs'
+plantation, clost to Snow Hill, which was the county seat. My daddy was
+a field hand and my mother worked in the fields, too, right 'longside my
+daddy, so she could keep him lined up. The master said that Calisy, that
+my mother, was the best fieldhand he had, and Calvin, that my daddy, was
+the laziest. My mother used to say he was chilesome.
+
+"Then when I was eight years old they sold me. The market place was in
+Snow Hill on the public square near the jailhouse. It was jus' a little
+stand built out in the open with no top on it, that the slaves stood on
+to get sold while the white folks auctioned 'em off. I was too little to
+get on the stand, so they had to hold me up and Mr. Harper bought me for
+$1,100. [Handwritten Note: '?'] That was cheap for a boy.
+
+"He lived in a brick house in town and had two-three slaves 'sides me. I
+run errands and kept the yard clean, things a little boy could do. They
+didn't have no school for slaves and I never learned to read and write
+till after freedom. After I was sold, they let me go visit my mother
+once a year, on Sunday morning, and took me back at night.
+
+"The masters couldn't whip the slaves there. The law said in black and
+white no master couldn't whip no slave, no matter what he done. When a
+slave got bad they took him to the county seat and had him whipped. One
+day I seen my old daddy get whipped by the county and state 'cause he
+wouldn't work. They had a post in the public square what they tied 'em
+to and a man what worked for the county whipped 'em.
+
+"After he was whipped my daddy run away to the north. Daddy come by when
+I was cleanin' the yard and said, 'Pierce, go 'round side the house,
+where nobody can't see us.' I went and he told me goodbye, 'cause he was
+goin' to run away in a few days. He had to stay in the woods and travel
+at night and eat what he could find, berries and roots and things. They
+never caught him and after he crossed the Mason-Dixon line he was safe.
+
+"There used to be a man who raised bloodhounds to hunt slaves with. I
+seen the dogs on the trail a whole day and still not catch 'em.
+Sometimes the slave made friends with the dogs and they wouldn't let on
+if they found him. Three dogs followed one slave the whole way up north
+and he sold them up there.
+
+"I heered 'em talk about some slaves what run barefooted in cold weather
+and you could trail 'em by blood in the snow and ice where they hurt
+their feet.
+
+"Most of the time the master gave us castor oil when we were sick. Some
+old folks went in the woods for herbs and made medicine. They made tea
+out of 'lion's tongue' for the stomach and snake root is good for pains
+in the stomach, too. Horse mint breaks the fever. They had a vermifuge
+weed.
+
+"I seed a lot of Southern soldiers and they'd go to the big house for
+something to eat. Late in '63 they had a fight at a place called
+Kingston, only 12 miles from our place, takin' how the jacks go. We
+could hear the guns go off when they was fightin'. The Yankees beat and
+settled down there and the cullud folks flocked down on them and when
+they got to the Yankee lines they was safe. They went in droves of 25 or
+50 to the Yankees and they put 'em to work fightin' for freedom. They
+fit till the war was over and a lot of 'em got kilt. My mother and
+sister run away to the Yankees and they paid 'em big money to wash for
+'em.
+
+"When peace come they read the 'mancipation law to the cullud people and
+they stayed up half the night at Mr. Harper's, singing and shouting.
+They spent that night singin' and shoutin'. They wasn't slaves no more.
+The master had to give 'em a half or third of what he made. Our master
+parceled out some land to 'em and told 'em to work it their selves and
+some done real well. They got hosses that the soldiers had turned loose
+to die, and fed them and took good care of 'em and they got good stock
+that way. Cotton was twenty and thirty cents a pound then.
+
+"After us cullud folks was 'sidered free and turned loose, the Klu Klux
+broke out. Some cullud people started to farmin', like I told you, and
+gathered the old stock. If they got so they made good money, and had a
+good farm, the Klu Klux would come and murder 'em. The gov'ment builded
+school houses and the Klu Klux went to work and burned 'em down. They'd
+go to the jails and take the cullud men out and knock their brains out
+and break their necks and throw 'em in the river.
+
+"There was a cullud man they taken, his name was Jim Freeman. They taken
+him and destroyed his stuff and him, 'cause he was making some money.
+Hung him on a tree in his front yard, right in front of his cabin.
+
+"There was some cullud young men went to the schools they'd opened by
+the gov'ment. Some white woman said someone had stole something of hers
+so they put them young men in jail. The Klu Klux went to the jail and
+took 'em out and killed 'em. That happened the second year after the
+War.
+
+"After the Klu Kluxes got so strong the cullud men got together and made
+the complaint before the law. The Gov'nor told the law to give 'em the
+old guns in the com'sary, what the Southern soldiers had used, so they
+issued the cullud men old muskets and said protect themselves. They got
+together and organized the militia and had leaders like reg'lar
+soldiers. They didn't meet 'cept when they heered the Klu Kluxes was
+coming to get some cullud folks. Then they was ready for 'em. They'd
+hide in the cabins and then's when they found out who a lot of them Klu
+Kluxes was, 'cause a lot of 'em was kilt. They wore long sheets and
+covered the hosses with sheets so you couldn't rec'nize 'em. Men you
+thought was your friend was Klu Kluxes and you'd deal with 'em in stores
+in the daytime and at night they'd come out to your house and kill you.
+I never took part in none of the fights, but I heered the others talk
+'bout them, but not where them Klu Klux could hear 'em.
+
+"One time they had 12 men in jail, 'cused of robbin' white folks. All
+was white in jail but one, and he was cullud. The Klu Kluxes went to the
+jailor's house and got the jail key and got them men out and carried 'em
+to the River Bridge, in the middle. Then they knocked their brains out
+and threw 'em in the river.
+
+"We was 'fraid of them Klu Kluxes and come to town, to Snow Hill. We
+rented a little house and my mother took in washing and ironing. I went
+to school and learned to read and write, then worked on farms, and
+fin'ly went to Columbia, in South Carolina, and worked in the turpentine
+country. I stayed there a while and got married.
+
+"I come to Texas in 1877 and Galveston was a little pen then, a little
+mess. I worked for some white people and then went to Houston and it
+wasn't nothing but a mudhole. So I messed 'round in South Carolina again
+a while and then come back to Galveston.
+
+"The Lawd called me then and I answered and I answered and was preacher
+here at the Union Baptist Church, on 11th and K, 'bout 25 years.
+
+"I knowed Wright Cuney well and he held the biggest place a cullud man
+ever helt in Galveston. He was congressman and the white people looked
+up to him just like he was white.
+
+"Durin' the Spanish-American War I went to Washington, D.C., to see my
+sister and got in the soldier business. The gov'ment give me $30.00 a
+month for drivin' a four-mule wagon for the army. I druv all through
+Pennsylvania and Virginia and South Carolina for the gov'ment. I was
+a----what do they call a laborer in the army?
+
+"When war was over I come back here and now I'm too old to work and the
+state gives me a pension and me and my granddaughter live on that. The
+young folks is makin' their mark now. One thing about 'em, they get
+educated, but there's not much for them to do when they get finished
+with school but walk the streets now. I been always trying to help my
+people to rise 'bove their station and they are rising all the time, and
+some day they'll be free."
+
+
+
+
+420298
+
+
+     MOLLY HARRELL was born a slave on the Swanson plantation, near
+     Palestine, Texas. She was a housegirl, but must have been too small
+     to do much work. She does not know her age, but thinks she was
+     about seven when she was freed. Molly lives at 3218 Ave H.,
+     Galveston, Texas.
+
+
+"Don't you tell nobody dat I use to be a slave. I 'most forgot it myself
+till you got round me jes' den. Course, I ain't blamin' you for it, but
+what you done say 'bout all de plantations havin' schools was wrong, so
+I jes' had to tell you I been a slave myself. It jes' slip out.
+
+"Like I jes' say, I knows what I's talkin' 'bout, 'cause I use to be a
+slave myself and I don't know how to read and write. Dat why I say I
+can't see so good. It don't do to let folks know dey's smarter'n you,
+'cause den dey got you right where dey wants you. Now, Will, dat de man
+I's marry to, am younger'n me but he don't know it. When you git marry,
+you don't tell de man how old you is. He wouldn't have you if you did.
+'Course, Will ain't so young heself, but he's born after de war and I's
+born durin' slavery, so dat make me older.
+
+"Mr. Swanson use to own de big plantation in Palestine. Everybody in dat
+part de country knowed him. He use to live in a plain, wood house on de
+Palestine road. My mother use to cook and wait on tables. John was my
+father.
+
+"Dey use to have de little whip dey use on de women. Course de field
+hands got it worse, but den, dey was men. Mr. Swanson was good and he
+was mean. He was nice one day and mean as Hades de next. You never
+knowed what he gwine to do. But he never punish nobody 'cept dey done
+somethin'. My father was a field hand, and Mr. Swanson work de fire out
+dem. Work, work--dat all dey know from time dey git up in de mornin'
+till dey went to bed at night. But he wasn't hard on dem like some
+masters was. If dey sick, dey didn't habe to work and he give dem de
+med'cine hisself. If he cotch dem tryin' play off sick, den he lay into
+dem, or if he cotch dem loafin'. Course, I don't blame him for dat,
+'cause dere ain't anythin' lazier dan a lazy nigger. Will am 'bout de
+laziest one in de bunch. You ain't never find a lazier nigger dan Will.
+
+"I was purty little den, but I done my share. I holp my mother dust and
+clean up de house and peel 'tatoes. Dere some old men dat too old to
+work so dey sot in de sun all day and holp with de light work. Dey carry
+grub and water to de field hands.
+
+"Somebody run 'way all de time and hide in de woods till dere gut pinch
+dem and den dey have to come back and git somethin' to eat. Course, dey
+got beat, but dat didn't worry dem none, and it not long till dey gone
+'gain.
+
+"My mother sold into slavery in Georgia, or round dere. She tell me
+funny things 'bout how dey use to do up dere. A old white man think so
+much of he old nigger when he die he free dat nigger in he will, and
+lef' him a little money. He open de blacksmith shop and buy some slaves.
+Mother allus say dose free niggers make de hardes' masters. One in
+Palestine marry a nigger slave and buy her from her master. Den he tell
+everybody he own a slave.
+
+"Everybody talk 'bout freedom and hope to git free 'fore dey die. I
+'member de first time de Yankees pass by, my mother lift me up on de
+fence. Dey use to pass by with bags on de mules and fill dem with stuff
+from de houses. Dey go in de barn and holp deyself. Dey go in de stables
+and turn out de white folks' hosses and run off what dey don't take for
+deyself.
+
+"Den one night I 'member jes' as well, me and my mother was settin' in
+de cabin gettin' ready to go to bed, when us hear somebody call my
+mother. We listen and de overseer whisper under de door and told my
+mother dat she free but not to tell nobody. I don't know why he done it.
+He allus like my mother, so I guess he do it for her. The master reads
+us de paper right after dat and say us free.
+
+"Me and my mother lef' right off and go to Palestine. Most everybody
+else go with us. We all walk down de road singin' and shoutin' to beat
+de band. My father come nex' day and jine us. My sister born dere. Den
+us go to Houston and Louisiana for a spell and I hires out to cook. I
+works till us come to Galveston 'bout ten year ago.
+
+
+
+
+420316
+
+
+Dibble, Fred, P.W., Beehler, Rheba, P.W.,
+Beaumont, Jefferson, Dist. #3.
+
+     ANN HAWTHORNE, Beaumont, Tex., was clad in a white dress which was
+     protected by a faded blue checked apron. On her feet she wore men's
+     bedroom slippers much too large for her, and to prevent their
+     falling off, were tied around the ankle by rag strings. She wore
+     silk hose with the heels completely worn out of them. Her figure is
+     generous in proportions, and her hair snow white, fixed in little
+     pig tails and wrapped in black string. Ann related her story in a
+     deep voice and a jovial manner. Although born and raised in Jasper
+     county, she speaks boastfully about having been to Houston.
+
+
+"If you's lookin' for Ann Hawthorne, dis is me. I was bo'n in slavery,
+and I was a right sizeable gal when freedom come. I was 'bout 10 or 12
+year' ol' when freedom riz up."
+
+"I was bo'n up here in Jasper. Ol' marster Woodruff Norsworthy and Miss
+Ca'lina, dey was my ol' marster and mistus. Miss Ca'lina she name' me."
+
+"My pa was Len Norsworthy. My ma was name Ca'line after ol' mistus. Dat
+how come I 'member ol' mistus name so good. I got fo' brudders livin',
+but nary a sister. My brudders is Newton and Silas and Willie and Frank.
+I say dey's livin'. I mean dat de las' time I heard of 'em dey was
+livin'."
+
+"Yas, I 'member de house I was raise in. It was jis' a one-room log
+house. Dey was a ol' Geo'gia hoss bed in it. It was up pretty high and
+us chillun had to git on a box to git in dat bed. De mattress was mek
+outer straw. Sometime dey mek 'em in co'n sacks and sometime dey put 'em
+in a tick what dey weave on de loom. I had a aunt what was de weaver.
+She weave all de time for ol' marster. She uster weave all us clo's."
+
+"My ma she was jis' a fiel' han' but my gramma and my aunt dey hab dem
+for wuk 'roun' de house. I didn' do nuthin' but chu'n (churn) and clean
+de yard, and sweep 'roun' and go to de spring and tote de water. I l'arn
+how to hoe, too."
+
+"Dat was a big plantation. Fur as I kin 'member I t'ink dey was 'bout 25
+or 30 slaves on de place. You see I done git ol' and childish and I
+can't 'member like what I uster could. I 'member though, dat my pa uster
+drive a team for ol' marster. Sometime he fiel' han' on de plantation,
+too."
+
+"Ol' marster he was good to his slaves. I heerd of slaves bein' whip'
+but I ain't never see any git whip. Dey was a overseer on de place and
+iffen dey was any whippin' to be did, he done it."
+
+"Me? I never did git no lickin's when I was a li'l slave. No mam. I
+allus did obey jis' like I was teached to do and dey didn' hafter whip
+me. I 'members dat."
+
+"We done our playin' 'roun' dat big house, but dat front gate, we
+dassen' go outside dat. We uster jump de rope and play ring plays and
+sich. You know how dey yoke dey han's togedder? Dat de way us uster do
+and go 'roun' and 'roun' singin' our li'l jumped up songs. Den us jis'
+play 'roun' lots of times anyt'ing what happen to come up in our min's."
+
+"Dey feed us good back in slavery. Give us plenty of meat and bread and
+greens and t'ings. Ye, dey feed us good and us had plenty. Dey give us
+plenty of co'nbread. Dat's de reason I's a co'nbread eater now. I ain't
+no flour-bread eater. I lubs my co'nbread. Us all eat outer one big pan.
+Dey give each li'l nigger a big iron spoon and us sho' go to it. Dey
+give us milk in a sep'rate vessel, and dey give eb'ryone a slice of meat
+in our greens. And dey never dassent tek de other feller's piece of
+meat. Eb'ryt'ing better go 'long smoove wid us chillun. We better eat
+and shut our mouf. We dassent raise no squall."
+
+"I tell dese chillun here dey ain't know nuffin'. Dey got dey glass. We
+had our li'l go'ds (gourds) pretty and clean and white. I wish I had
+one of dem ol' time go'ds now to drink my milk outer."
+
+"In good wedder dey feed us under a big tree out in de yard. And us
+better leave eb'ryt'ing clean and no litter 'roun'. In de winter time
+dey fed us in de kitchen."
+
+"Us gals wo' plain, long waisted dress. Dey was cut straight and wid
+long waist and dey button down de back."
+
+"Dey was a cullud man what mek shoes for de slaves to wear in de winter
+time. He mek 'em outer rough red russet ledder. Dat ledder was hard and
+lots of times it mek blister on us feet. I uster be glad when summer
+time come so's I could go barefoot."
+
+"Dey had cabins for de slaves to live in. Dere was jis' one room and one
+family to de cabin. Some of 'em was bigger dan others and dey put a big
+family in a big cabin and a li'l family in a li'l cabin."
+
+"I never see no slaves bought and sol'. I heerd my gramma and ma say dey
+ol' marster wouldn' sell none of his slaves."
+
+"I heerd 'bout dem broom-stick marriages, but I ain't never seed none.
+Dat was dey law in dem days."
+
+"Dey didn' know nuffin' 'bout preachin' and Sunday School in dem times.
+De fus' preachin' I heerd was atter dat. I hear a white preacher
+preach. He uster preach to de white folks in de mornin' and de cullud
+folks in de afternoons. But de slaves some of 'em uster had family
+prayer meetings to deyselfs."
+
+"De ol' marster he didn' work he han's on Sunday and he give 'em half de
+day off on Sadday, too. But he never give 'em a patch to work for
+deyself. Dat half a day off on Sadday was for de slaves to wash and
+clean up deyselfs."
+
+"I never git marry 'till way atter freedom come. Dat was up in Jasper
+county where I's bred and bo'n. I marry Hyman Hawthorne. Near as you kin
+guess, dat was 'bout 50 year' ago. Den he die and lef' me wid eight
+chillun. My baby gal she ain't never see no daddy."
+
+"Atter he dead I wash and iron and cook out and raise my chillun. I was
+raise up in de fiel' all my life. When I git disable' to wuk in de time
+of de 'pressure (depression) I git on my walkin' stick. I wag up town
+and I didn' fail to ax de white folks 'cause I wo' myself out wukkin'
+for 'em. Dey load up my sack and sometime dey bring me stuff in a car
+right dere to dat gate. But I's had two strokes and I ain't able to go
+to town no mo'."
+
+"I tell you I never hear nuthin' 'bout chu'ch 'till way atter freedom.
+Sometime den us go to chu'ch. Dey was one Mef'dis' Chu'ch and one
+Baptis' Chu'ch in Jasper. Dere moughta been a Cabilic (Catholic) Chu'ch
+dere too, but I dunno 'bout dat."
+
+"I don' 'member seein' no sojers. I t'ink some of ol' marster's boys
+went to de war but de ol' man didn' go. I dunno 'bout wedder dey come
+back or not 'cep'n' I 'member dat Crab Norsworthy he come back."
+
+"When any of de slaves git sick ol' mistus and my gramma dey doctor 'em.
+De ol' mistus she a pretty good doctor. When us chillun git sick dey git
+yarbs or dey give us castor oil and turpentine. Iffen it git to be a
+ser'ous ailment dey sen' for de reg'lar doctor. Dey uster hang
+asafoetida 'roun' us neck in a li'l bag to keep us from ketch' de
+whoopin' cough and de measles."
+
+"Dey was a gin and cotton press on de place. Ol' marster gin' and bale'
+he own cotton. Dat ol' press had dem long arms a-stickin' down what dey
+hitch hosses to and mek 'em go 'roun' and 'roun' and press de bale."
+
+"Dey raise dey own t'bacco on de place. I didn' use snuff nor chew 'till
+after I growed up and marry. Back in slavery you couldn' let 'em ketch
+you wid a chew of t'bacco or snuff in your mouf. Iffen you did dey
+wouldn' let you forgit it."
+
+"I uster like to go and play 'roun' de calfs, jis' go up and pet 'em and
+rub 'em. But we dassent git on 'em to ride 'em."
+
+"Marster uster sit 'roun' and watch us chillun play. He enjoy dat. He
+call me his Annie 'cause I name' after my mistus. Sometime he hab a
+wagon load of watermilion haul' up from de fiel' and cut 'em. Eb'ry
+chile hab a side of watermilion. And us hab all de sugar cane and sweet
+'taters us want."
+
+"Dey had a big smokehouse. Dey hab big hog killin' time, and dey dry and
+salt de meat in a big long trough. Dey git oak and ash and hick'ry wood
+and mek a fire under it and smoke it. My gramma toted de key to dat
+smokehouse and ol' mistus she'd tell her what to go and git for de white
+folks and de cullud folks."
+
+"When Crismus come 'roun' dey give us big eatin'. Us hab chicken and
+turkey and cake. I don' 'member dat dey give us no presents."
+
+"My gramma and my ma and ol' man Norsworthy dey come from Alabama. I
+never hear of him breakin' up a family. But when dey was livin' in
+Geo'gy, my ma marry a man name' Hawthorne in Geo'gy. He wouldn' sell him
+to Marse Norsworthy when he come to Texas. Atter freedom marster go to
+Geo'gy to git him and bring him to Texas, but he done raisin' up anudder
+family dere and won't come. Li'l befo' she die her husban' come. When he
+'bout wo' out and ready to die, den he come. Some of de ol'es' chillun
+'member dey daddy and dey crazy for him to come and dey mek up de money
+for him. When he git here dey tek care of him 'till he die right dere at
+Olive. Ma tell 'em to write him he neenter (need not) come. She say he
+ain't no service to her. But he come and de daughter tek care of her ma
+and pa bofe."
+
+"I's got 8 gran'chillun and 5 great-gran'chillun. I 'vides (divide) my
+time 'tween my daughter here and de one in Houston."
+
+"You wants to tek my picture? Daughter, I don' want dat hat you got
+dere. Dat one of de chillun' hats. Git dat li'l bonnet. Dat becomes me
+better. I can't stan' much sun. Dey say I's got high blood pressue."
+
+
+
+
+420186
+
+
+     JAMES HAYES, 101, was born a slave to a plantation owner whose name
+     he does not now recall, in Shelby Co., two miles from Marshall,
+     Texas. Mr. John Henderson bought the place, six slaves and James
+     and his mother. James, known as Uncle Jim, seems happy, still
+     stands erect, and is very active for his age. He lives on a green
+     slope overlooking the Trinity river, in Moser Valley, a Negro
+     settlement ten miles northeast of Fort Worth.
+
+
+"Dis nigger have lived a long time, yas, suh! I's 101 years ole, 'cause
+I's bo'n Dec. 28, 1835. Dat makes me 102 come nex' December. I can'
+'member my fust marster's name, 'cause when I's 'bout two years ole, me
+and my sis, 'bout five, and our mammy was sol' to Marster John
+Henderson. I don' 'member anything 'bout my pappy, but I 'member Marster
+Henderson jus' like 'twas las' week. I's settin' hear a thinkin' of dem
+ole days when I's a li'l nigger a cuttin' up on ole marster's
+plantation. How I did play roun' with de chilluns till I's big enough
+for to wo'k. After I's 'bout 13, I jus' peddles roun' de house for 'bout
+a year, den 'twarn't long till I hoes co'n and potatoes. Dere's six
+slaves on dat place and I coul' beat dem all a-hoein'.
+
+"De marster takes good care of us and sometimes give us money, 'bout
+25�, and lets us go to town. Dat's when we was happy and celebrates.
+We'uns spent all de money on candy and sweet drinks. Marster never
+crowded us 'bout de wo'k, and never give any of us whuppin's. I's
+sev'ral times needed a whuppin', but de marster never gives dis nigger
+more'n a good scoldin'. De nearest I comes to gittin whupped, 'twas
+once when I stole a plate of biscuits offen de table. I warn't in need
+of 'em, but de devil in me caused me to do it. Marster and all de folks
+comes in and sets down, and he asks for de biscuits, and I's under de
+house and could hear 'em talk. De cook says, 'I's put de biscuits on de
+table.' Marster says, 'If you did, de houn' got 'em.' Cook says, 'If a
+houn' got 'em, 'twas a two-legged one, 'cause de plate am gone, too.'
+I's made de mistake of takin' de plate. Marster give me de wors'
+scoldin' I ever has and dat larned me a lesson.
+
+"Not long after dat, Marster sol' my mammy to his brudder who lived in
+Fort Worth. When dey took her away, I's powerful grieved. 'Bout dat time
+de War started. De marster and his boy, Marster Ben, jined de army. De
+marster was a sergeant. De women folks was proud of dere men folks, but
+dey was powerful grieved. All de time de men's away, I could tell Missy
+Elline and her mamma was worried. Dey allus sen's me for de mail, and
+when I fotches it, dey run to meet me, anxious like, to open de letter,
+and was skeert to do it. One day I fotches a letter and I could feel it
+in my bones, dere was trouble in dat letter. Sure 'nough, dere was
+trouble, heaps of it. It tells dat Marster Ben am kilt and dat dey was a
+shippin' him home. All de ole folks, cullud and white, was cryin'. Missy
+Elline, she fainted. When de body comes home, dere's a powerful big
+funeral and after dat, dere's powerful weepin's and sadness on dat
+place. De women folks don' talk much and no laughin' like 'fore. I
+'members once de missy asks me to make a 'lasses cake. I says, 'I's got
+no 'lasses.' Missy says, 'Don' say 'lasses, say molasses.' I says, 'Why
+say molasses when I's got no 'lasses.' Dat was de fus' time Missy laugh
+after de funeral.
+
+"Durin' de War, things was 'bout de same, like always, 'cept some
+vittles was scarce. But we'uns had plenty to eat and us slaves didn'
+know what de War was 'bout. I guess we was too ign'rant. De white folks
+didn' talk 'bout it 'fore us. When it's over, de Marster comes home and
+dey holds a big celebration. I's workin' in de kitchen and dey tol' me
+to cook heaps of ham, chicken, pies, cakes, sweet 'taters and lots of
+vegetables. Lots of white folks comes and dey eats and drinks wine, dey
+sings and dances. We'uns cullud folks jined in and was singin' out in de
+back, 'Massa's in de Col', Har' Groun'. Marster asks us to come in and
+sing dat for de white folks, so we'uns goes in de house and sings dat
+for de white folks and dey jines in de chorus.
+
+"Three days after de celebration, de marster calls all de slaves in de
+house and says, 'Yous is all free, free as I am.' He tol' us we'uns
+could go if we'uns wanted to. None of us knows what to do, dere warn't
+no place to go and why would we'uns wan' to go and leave good folks like
+de marster? His place was our home. So we'uns asked him if we could stay
+and he says, 'Yous kin stay as long as yous want to and I can keep
+yous.' We'uns all stayed till he died, 'bout a year after dat.
+
+"When he was a-dyin', marster calls me to his bed and says, 'My dyin'
+reques' is dat yous be taken to your mama.' He calls his son, Zeke, in
+and tells him dat I should be fotched to my mamma. And 'bout in a year,
+Marster Zeke fotches me to my mamma, in Johnson Station, south of
+Arlington. She's wo'kin' for Jack Ditto and I's pleased to see her.
+
+I's pleased to see my mammy, but after a few days I wants to go back to
+Marshall with Marster Zeke. Dat was my home, so I kep' pesterin' marster
+to fetch me back, but he slips off and leaves me. I has to stay and I's
+been here ever since.
+
+"I gits my fust job with Carter Cannon, on a farm, and stays seven
+years. Den I goes to Fort Worth and takes a job cookin' in de Gran'
+Hotel for three years. Den I goes to Dallas and cooks for private
+families, and wo'ks for Marster James Ellison for 30 years. I stops four
+years ago and comes out here to wait till de good Lawd calls me home.
+
+"Bout gittin' married, after I quits de Gran' Hotel I marries and we'uns
+has two chillen. My wife died three years later.
+
+"You knows, I believes I's mo' contented as a slave. I's treated kind
+all de time and had no frettin' 'bout how I gwine git on. Since I's been
+free, I sometimes have heaps of frettin'. Course, I don' want to go back
+into slavery, but I's paid for my freedom.
+
+"I's never been sick abed, but I's had mo' misery dis las' year dan all
+my life. It's my heart. If I live till December, I'll be 102 years old,
+and dis ole heart have been pumpin' and pumpin' all dem years and have
+missed nary a beat till dis las' year. I knows 'twon't be long till de
+good Lawd calls dis ole nigger to cross de Ribber Jordan and I's ready
+for de Lawd when he calls.
+
+
+
+
+420082
+
+
+[Illustration: Felix Haywood (A)]
+
+[Illustration: Felix Haywood (B)]
+
+
+     FELIX HAYWOOD is a temperamental and whimsical old Negro of San
+     Antonio, Texas, who still sees the sunny side of his 92 years, in
+     spite of his total blindness. He was born and bred a slave in St.
+     Hedwig, Bexar Co., Texas, the son of slave parents bought in
+     Mississippi by his master, William Gudlow. Before and during the
+     Civil War he was a sheep herder and cowpuncher. His autobiography is
+     a colorful contribution, showing the philosophical attitude of the
+     slaves, as well as shedding some light upon the lives of slave
+     owners whose support of the Confederacy was not accompanied by
+     violent hatred of the Union.
+
+
+"Yes, sir, I'm Felix Haywood, and I can answer all those things that you
+want to know. But, first, let me ask you this: Is you all a white man,
+or is you a black man?"
+
+"I'm black, blacker than you are," said the caller.
+
+The eyes of the old blind Negro,--eyes like two murkey brown
+marbles--actually twinkled. Then he laughed:
+
+"No, you ain't. I knowed you was white man when you comes up the path
+and speaks. I jus' always asks that question for fun. It makes white men
+a little insulted when you dont know they is white, and it makes niggers
+all conceited up when you think maybe they is white."
+
+And there was the key note to the old Negro's character and temperament.
+He was making a sort of privileged game with a sportive twist out of his
+handicap of blindness.
+
+As the interviewer scribbled down a note, the door to the little shanty
+on Arabella Alley opened and a backless chair was carried out on the
+porch by a vigorous old colored woman. She was Mrs. Ella Thompson,
+Felix' youngest sister, who had known only seven years of slavery. After
+a timid "How-do-you-do," and a comment on the great heat of the June
+day, she went back in the house. Then the old Negro began searching his
+92 years of reminiscences, intermixing his findings with philosophy,
+poetry and prognostications.
+
+"It's a funny thing how folks always want to know about the War. The war
+weren't so great as folks suppose. Sometimes you didn't knowed it was
+goin' on. It was the endin' of it that made the difference. That's when
+we all wakes up that somethin' had happened. Oh, we knowed what was
+goin' on in it all the time, 'cause old man Gudlow went to the post
+office every day and we knowed. We had papers in them days jus' like
+now.
+
+"But the War didn't change nothin'. We saw guns and we saw soldiers, and
+one member of master's family, Colmin Gudlow, was gone
+fightin'--somewhere. But he didn't get shot no place but one--that was
+in the big toe. Then there was neighbors went off to fight. Some of 'em
+didn't want to go. They was took away (conscription). I'm thinkin' lots
+of 'em pretended to want to go as soon as they had to go.
+
+"The ranch went on jus' like it always had before the war. Church went
+on. Old Mew Johnson, the preacher, seen to it church went on. The kids
+didn't know War was happenin'. They played marbles, see-saw and rode. I
+had old Buster, a ox, and he took me about plenty good as a horse.
+Nothin' was different. We got layed-onto(whipped) time on time, but
+gen'rally life was good--just as good as a sweet potato. The only misery
+I had was when a black spider bit me on the ear. It swelled up my head
+and stuff came out. I was plenty sick and Dr. Brennen, he took good care
+of me. The whites always took good care of people when they was sick.
+Hospitals couldn't do no better for you today.... Yes, maybe it was a
+black widow spider, but we called it the 'devil biter'.
+
+"Sometimes someone would come 'long and try to get us to run up North
+and be free. We used to laugh at that. There wasn't no reason to =run=
+up North. All we had to do was to =walk=, but walk =South=, and we'd be
+free as soon as we crossed the Rio Grande. In Mexico you could be free.
+They didn't care what color you was, black, white, yellow or blue.
+Hundreds of slaves did go to Mexico and got on all right. We would hear
+about 'em and how they was goin' to be Mexicans. They brought up their
+children to speak only Mexican.
+
+"Me and my father and five brothers and sisters weren't goin' to Mexico.
+I went there after the war for a while and then I looked 'round and
+decided to get back. So I come back to San Antonio and I got a job
+through Colonel Breckenridge with the waterworks. I was handling pipes.
+My foreman was Tom Flanigan--he must have been a full-blooded Frenchman!
+
+"But what I want to say is, we didn't have no idea of runnin' and
+escapin'. We was happy. We got our lickings, but just the same we got
+our fill of biscuits every time the white folks had 'em. Nobody knew how
+it was to lack food. I tell my chillen we didn't know no more about
+pants than a hawg knows about heaven; but I tells 'em that to make 'em
+laugh. We had all the clothes we wanted and if you wanted shoes bad
+enough you got 'em--shoes with a brass square toe. And shirts! Mister,
+them was shirts that was shirts! If someone gets caught by his shirt on
+a limb of a tree, he had to die there if he weren't cut down. Them
+shirts wouldn't rip no more'n buckskin.
+
+"The end of the war, it come jus' like that--like you snap your
+fingers."
+
+"How did you know the end of the war had come?" asked the interviewer.
+
+"How did we know it! Hallelujah broke out--
+
+    "'Abe Lincoln freed the nigger
+    With the gun and the trigger;
+  And I ain't goin' to get whipped any more.
+    I got my ticket,
+    Leavin' the thicket,
+  And I'm a-headin' for the Golden Shore!'
+
+"Soldiers, all of a sudden, was everywhere--comin' in bunches, crossin'
+and walkin' and ridin'. Everyone was a-singin'. We was all walkin' on
+golden clouds. Hallelujah!
+
+  "'Union forever,
+  Hurrah, boys, hurrah!
+  Although I may be poor,
+  I'll never be a slave--
+  Shoutin' the battle cry of freedom.'
+
+"Everybody went wild. We all felt like heroes and nobody had made us
+that way but ourselves. We was free. Just like that, we was free. It
+didn't seem to make the whites mad, either. They went right on giving us
+food just the same. Nobody took our homes away, but right off colored
+folks started on the move. They seemed to want to get closer to freedom,
+so they'd know what it was--like it was a place or a city. Me and my
+father stuck, stuck close as a lean tick to a sick kitten. The Gudlows
+started us out on a ranch. My father, he'd round up cattle, unbranded
+cattle, for the whites. They was cattle that they belonged to, all
+right; they had gone to find water 'long the San Antonio River and the
+Guadalupe. Then the whites gave me and my father some cattle for our
+own. My father had his own brand, 7 B ), and we had a herd to start out
+with of seventy.
+
+"We knowed freedom was on us, but we didn't know what was to come with
+it. We thought we was goin' to get rich like the white folks. We thought
+we was goin' to be richer than the white folks, 'cause we was stronger
+and knowed how to work, and the whites didn't and they didn't have us to
+work for them anymore. But it didn't turn out that way. We soon found
+out that freedom could make folks proud but it didn't make 'em rich.
+
+"Did you ever stop to think that thinking don't do any good when you do
+it too late? Well, that's how it was with us. If every mother's son of a
+black had thrown 'way his hoe and took up a gun to fight for his own
+freedom along with the Yankees, the war'd been over before it began. But
+we didn't do it. We couldn't help stick to our masters. We couldn't no
+more shoot 'em than we could fly. My father and me used to talk 'bout
+it. We decided we was too soft and freedom wasn't goin' to be much to
+our good even if we had a education."
+
+The old Negro was growing very tired, but, at a request, he instantly
+got up and tapped his way out into the scorching sunshine to have his
+photograph taken. Even as he did so, he seemed to smile with those
+blurred, dead eyes of his. Then he chuckled to himself and said:
+
+  "'Warmth of the wind
+  And heat of the South,
+  And ripe red cherries
+  For a ripe, red mouth.'"
+
+"Land sakes, Felix!" came through the window from sister Ella. "How you
+carries on! Don't you be a-mindin' him, mister."
+
+
+
+
+420096
+
+
+[Illustration: Phoebe Henderson]
+
+
+     PHOEBE HENDERSON, a 105 year old Negro of Harrison Co., was born a
+     slave of the Bradley family at Macon, Georgia. After the death of
+     her mistress, Phoebe belonged to one of the daughters, Mrs. Wiley
+     Hill, who moved to Panola County, Texas in 1859, where Phoebe lived
+     until after the Civil War. For the past 22 years she has lived with
+     Mary Ann Butler, a daughter, about five miles east of Marshall, in
+     Enterprise Friendship Community. She draws a pension of $16.00 a
+     month.
+
+
+"I was bo'n a slave of the Bradley family in Macon, Georgia. My father's
+name was Anthony Hubbard and he belonged to the Hubbard's in Georgia. He
+was a young man when I lef' Georgia and I never heard from him since. I
+'member my mother; she had a gang of boys. Marster Hill brought her to
+Texas with us.
+
+"My ole missus name was Bradley and she died in Tennessee. My lil'
+missus was her daughter. After dey brought us to Texas in 1859 I worked
+in the field many a day, plowin' and hoein', but the children didn't do
+much work 'cept carry water. When dey git tired, dey'd say dey was sick
+and the overseer let 'em lie down in de shade. He was a good and kindly
+man and when we do wrong and go tell him he forgave us and he didn't
+whip the boys 'cause he was afraid they'd run away.
+
+"I worked in de house, too. I spinned seven curts a day and every night
+we run two looms, makin' large curts for plow lines. We made all our
+clothes. We didn't wear shoes in Georgia but in this place the land was
+rough and strong, so we couldn't go barefooted. A black man that worked
+in the shop measured our feet and made us two pairs a year. We had good
+houses and dey was purty good to us. Sometimes missus give us money and
+each family had their garden and some chickens. When a couple marry, the
+master give them a house and we had a good time and plenty to wear and
+to eat. They cared for us when we was sick.
+
+"Master Wiley Hill had a big plantation and plenty of stock and hawgs,
+and a big turnip patch. He had yellow and red oxen. We never went to
+school any, except Sunday school. We'd go fishin' often down on the
+creek and on Saturday night we'd have parties in the woods and play ring
+plays and dance.
+
+"My husband's name was David Henderson and we lived on the same place
+and belonged to the same man. No, suh, Master Hill didn't have nothin'
+to do with bringin' us together. I guess God done it. We fell in love,
+and David asked Master Hill for me. We had a weddin' in the house and
+was married by a colored Baptist preacher. I wore a white cotton dress
+and Missus Hill give me a pan of flour for a weddin' present. He give us
+a house of our own. My husband was good to me. He was a careful man and
+not rowdy. When we'd go anywhere we'd ride horseback and I'd ride behin'
+him.
+
+"I's scared to talk 'bout when I was freed. I 'member the soldiers and
+that warrin' and fightin'. Toby, one of the colored boys, joined the
+North and was a mail messenger boy and he had his horse shot out from
+under him. But I guess its a good thing we was freed, after all.
+
+
+
+
+420007
+
+
+[Illustration: Albert Hill]
+
+
+     ALBERT HILL, 81, was born a slave of Carter Hill, who owned a
+     plantation and about 50 slaves, in Walton Co., Georgia. Albert
+     remained on the Hill place until he was 21, when he went to
+     Robinson Co., Texas. He now lives at 1305 E. 12th St., Fort Worth,
+     Texas, in a well-kept five-room house, on a slope above the Trinity
+     River.
+
+
+"I was born on Massa Carter Hill's plantation, in Georgia, and my name
+am Albert Hill. My papa's name was Dillion, 'cause he taken dat name
+from he owner, Massa Tom Dillion. He owned de plantation next to Massa
+Hill's, and he owned my mammy and us 13 chillen. I don't know how old I
+is, but I 'members de start of de war, and I was a sizeable chile den.
+
+"De plantation wasn't so big and wasn't so small, jus' fair size, but it
+am fixed first class and everything am good. We has good quarters made
+out of logs and lots of tables and benches, what was made of split logs.
+We has de rations and massa give plenty of de cornmeal and beans and
+'lasses and honey. Sometimes we has tea, and once in a while we gits
+coffee. And does we have de tasty and tender hawg meat! I'd like to see
+some of dat hawg meat now.
+
+"Massa am good but he don't 'low de parties. But we kin go to Massa
+Dillion's place next to us and dey has lots of parties and de dances. We
+dances near all night Saturday night, but we has to stay way in de back
+where de white folks can't hear us. Sometimes we has de fiddle and de
+banjo and does we cut dat chicken wing and de shuffle! We sho' does.
+
+"I druv de ox, and drivin' dat ox am agitation work in de summer time
+when it am hot, 'cause dey runs for water every time. But de worst
+trouble I ever has is with one hoss. I fotches de dinner to de workers
+out in de field and I use dat hoss, hitched to de two-wheel cart. One
+day him am halfway and dat hoss stop. He look back at me, a-rollin' de
+eye, and I knows what dat mean--'Here I stays, nigger.' But I heered to
+tie de rope on de balky hosses tail and run it 'twixt he legs and tie to
+de shaft. I done dat and puts some cuckleburrs on de rope, too. Den I
+tech him with de whip and he gives de rear back'ards. Dat he best rear.
+When he do dat it pull de rope and de rope pull de tail and de burrs
+gits busy. Dat hoss moves for'ard faster and harder den what he ever
+done 'fore, and he keep on gwine. You see, he am trying git 'way from he
+tail, but de tail am too fast. Course, it stay right behin' him. Den I's
+in de picklement. Dat hoss am runnin' away and I can't stop him. De
+workers lines up to stop him but de cart give de shove and dat pull he
+tail and, lawdy whoo, dat hose jump for'ard like de jackrabbit and go
+through dat line of workers. So I steers him into de fence row, and
+dere's no more runnin', but an awful mix-up with de hoss and de cart and
+de rations. Dat hoss so sceered him have de quavers. Massa say, 'What
+you doin'?' I says, 'Break de balk.' He say, 'Well, yous got everything
+else broke. We'll see 'bout de balk later.'
+
+Massa has de daughter, Mary, and she want to marry Bud Jackson, but
+massa am 'gainst it. Bud am gwine to de army and dat give dis boy work,
+'cause I de messenger boy for him and Missy Mary. Dey keeps company
+unbeknownst and I carry de notes. I puts de paper in de hollow stump.
+Once I's sho' I's kotched. Dere am de massa and he say, 'Where you been,
+nigger?' I's sho' skeert and I says, 'I's lookin' for de squirrels.' So
+massa goes 'way and when I tells you I's left, it ain't de proper word
+for to 'splain, 'cause I's flew from here.' I tells Missy Mary and she
+say, 'You sho' am de Lawd's chosen nigger.'
+
+"De 'federate soldiers comes and dey takes de rations, but de massa has
+dug de pit in de pasture and buried lots of de rations, so de soldiers
+don't find so much. De clostest battle was Atlanta, more dan 25 mile
+'way.
+
+"When de war come over, Bud Jackson he come home. De massa welcome him,
+to de sprise of everybody, and when Bud say he want to marry Missy Mary,
+massa say, 'I guesses you has earnt her.'
+
+"When freedom am here, massa call all us together and tells us 'bout de
+difference 'tween freedom and hustlin' for ourselves and dependin' on
+someone else. Most of de slaves stays, and massa pays them for de work,
+and I stays till I's 21 year old, and I gits $7.00 de month and de
+clothes and de house and all I kin eat. De massa have died 'fore dat,
+and dere am powerful sorrow. Missy Mary and Massa Bud has de plantation
+den, and dey don't want me to go to Texas. But dey goes on de visit and
+while dey gone I takes de train for Robinson County, what am in Texas.
+
+"I works at de pavin' work and at de hostlin' work and I works on de
+hosses. Den I works for de Santa Fe railroad, handlin' freight, and I
+works till 'bout three year ago, when I gits too old for to work no
+more.
+
+"But I tells you 'bout de visit back to de old plantation. I been gone
+near 40 year and I 'cides to go back, so I reaches de house and dere am
+Missy Mary peelin' apples on de back gallery. She looks at me, and she
+say, 'I got whippin' waiting for yous, 'cause you run off without
+tellin' us.' Dere wasn't no more peelin' dat day, 'cause we sits and
+talks 'bout de old times and de old massa. Dere sho' am de tears in dis
+nigger's eyes. Den we talks 'bout de nigger messenger I was, and we
+laughs a little. All day long we talks a little, and laughs and cries
+and talks. I stays 'bout two weeks and seed lots of de folks I knowed
+when I was young, de white folks and de niggers, too.
+
+"I's too old to make any more visits, but I would like to go back to Old
+Georgia once more. If Missy Mary was 'live, I'd try, but she am dead, so
+I tries to wait for old Gabriel blow he horn. When he blow he horn, dis
+nigger say, 'Louder, Gabriel, louder!'
+
+
+
+
+420308
+
+
+     ROSINA HOARD does not know just where she was born. The first thing
+     she remembers is that she and her parents were purchased by Col.
+     Pratt Washington, who owned a plantation near Garfield, in Travis
+     County, Texas. Rosina, who is a very pleasant and sincere person,
+     says she has had a tough life since she was free. She receives a
+     monthly pension of fourteen dollars, for which she expresses
+     gratitude. Her address is 1301 Chestnut St., Austin, Tex.
+
+
+"When I's a gal, I's Rosina Slaughter, but folks call me Zina. Yes, sar.
+It am Zina dat and Zina dis. I says I's born April 9, 1859, but I 'lieve
+I's older. It was somewhere in Williamson County, but I don't know the
+massa's name. My mammy was Lusanne Slaughter and she was stout but in
+her last days she got to be a li'l bit of a woman. She died only last
+spring and she was a hunerd eleven years old.
+
+"Papa was a Baptist preacher to de day of he death. He had asthma all
+his days. I 'member how he had de sorrel hoss and would ride off and
+preach under some arbor bush. I rid with him on he hoss.
+
+"First thing I 'member is us was bought by Massa Col. Pratt Washington
+from Massa Lank Miner. Massa Washington was purty good man. He boys,
+George and John Henry, was de only overseers. Dem boys treat us nice.
+Massa allus rid up on he hoss after dinner time. He hoss was a bay, call
+Sank. De fields was in de bottoms of de Colorado River. De big house was
+on de hill and us could see him comin'. He weared a tall, beaver hat
+allus.
+
+"De reason us allus watch for him am dat he boy, George, try larn us our
+A B C's in de field. De workers watch for massa and when dey seed him
+a-ridin' down de hill dey starts singin' out, 'Ole hawg 'round de
+bench--Ole hawg 'round de bench.'
+
+"Dat de signal and den everybody starts workin' like dey have something
+after dem. But I's too young to larn much in de field and I can't read
+today and have to make de cross when I signs for my name.
+
+"Each chile have he own wood tray. Dere was old Aunt Alice and she done
+all de cookin' for de chillen in de depot. Dat what dey calls de place
+all de chillen stays till dere mammies come home from de field. Aunt
+Alice have de big pot to cook in, out in de yard. Some days we had beans
+and some day peas. She put great hunks of salt bacon in de pot, and bake
+plenty cornbread, and give us plenty milk.
+
+"Some big chillen have to pick cotton. Old Junus was de cullud overseer
+for de chillen and he sure mean to dem. He carry a stick and use it,
+too.
+
+"One day de blue-bellies come to de fields. Dey Yankee sojers, and tell
+de slaves dey free. Some stayed and some left. Papa took us and move to
+de Craft plantation, not far 'way, and farm dere.
+
+"I been married three time. First to Peter Collinsworth. I quit him.
+Second to George Hoard. We stayed togedder till he die, and have five
+chillen. Den I marries he brother, Jim Hoard. I tells you de truth, Jim
+never did work much. He'd go fishin' and chop wood by de days, but not
+many days. He suffered with de piles. I done de housework and look after
+de chillen and den go out and pick two hunerd pound cotton a day. I was
+a cripple since one of my boys birthed. I git de rheumatis' and my knees
+hurt so much sometime I rub wed sand and mud on dem to ease de pain.
+
+"We had a house at Barton Springs with two rooms, one log and one box. I
+never did like it up dere and I told Jim I's gwine. I did, but he come
+and got me.
+
+"Since freedom I's been through de toughs. I had to do de man's work,
+chop down trees and plow de fields and pick cotton. I want to tell you
+how glad I is to git my pension. It is sure nice of de folks to take
+care of me in my old age. Befo' I got de pension I had a hard time. You
+can sho' say I's been through de toughs.
+
+
+
+
+420286
+
+
+     TOM HOLLAND was born in Walker County, Texas, and thinks he is
+     about 97 years old. His master, Frank Holland, traded Tom to
+     William Green just before the Civil War. After Tom was freed, he
+     farmed both for himself and for others in the vicinity of his old
+     home. He now lives in Madisonville, Texas.
+
+
+"My owner was Massa Frank Holland, and I's born on his place in Walker
+County. I had one sister named Gena and three brothers, named George and
+Will and Joe, but they's all dead now. Mammy's name was Gena and my
+father's named Abraham Holland and they's brung from North Carolina to
+Texas by Massa Holland when they's real young.
+
+"I chopped cotton and plowed and split rails, then was a horse rider. In
+them days I could ride the wildest horse what ever made tracks in Texas,
+but I's never valued very high 'cause I had a glass eye. I don't 'member
+how I done got it, but there it am. I'd make a dollar or fifty cents to
+ride wild horses in slavery time and massa let me keep it. I buyed
+tobacco and candy and if massa cotch me with tobacco I'd git a whippin',
+but I allus slipped and bought chewin' tobacco.
+
+"We allus had plenty to eat, sich as it was them days, and it was good,
+plenty wild meat and cornbread cooked in ashes. We toasted the meat on a
+open fire, and had plenty possum and rabbit and fish.
+
+"We wore them loyal shirts open all way down the front, but I never seed
+shoes till long time after freedom. In cold weather massa tanned lots of
+hides and we'd make warm clothes. My weddin' clothes was a white loyal
+shirt, never had no shoes, married barefooted.
+
+"Massa Frank, he one real good white man. He was awful good to his
+Negroes. Missis Sally, she a plumb angel. Their three chillen stayed
+with me nearly all the time, askin' this Negro lots of questions. They
+didn't have so fine a house, neither, two rooms with a big hall through
+and no windows and deer skins tacked over the door to keep out rain and
+cold. It was covered with boards I helped cut after I got big 'nough.
+
+"Massa Frank had cotton and corn and everything to live on, 'bout three
+hundred acres, and overseed it himself, and seven growed slaves and five
+little slaves. He allus waked us real early to be in the field when
+daylight come and worked us till slap dark, but let us have a hour and a
+half at noon to eat and rest up. Sometimes when slaves got stubborn he'd
+whip them and make good Negroes out of them, 'cause he was real good to
+them.
+
+"I seed slaves sold and auctioned off, 'cause I's put up to the highest
+bidder myself. Massa traded me to William Green jus' 'fore the war, for
+a hundred acres land at $1.00 a acre. He thought I'd never be much
+'count, 'cause I had the glass eye, but I'm still livin' and a purty
+fair Negro to my age. All the hollerin' and bawlin' took place and when
+he sold me it took me most a year to git over it, but there I was,
+'longin' to 'nother man.
+
+"If we went off without a pass we allus went two at a time. We slipped
+off when we got a chance to see young folks on some other place. The
+patterrollers cotched me one night and, Lawd have mercy on me, they
+stretches me over a log and hits thirty-nine licks with a rawhide loaded
+with rock, and every time they hit me the blood and hide done fly. They
+drove me home to massa and told him and he called a old mammy to doctor
+my back, and I couldn't work for four days. That never kep' me from
+slippin' off 'gain, but I's more careful the next time.
+
+"We'd go and fall right in at the door of the quarters at night, so
+massa and the patterrollers thinks we's real tired and let us alone and
+not watch us. That very night we'd be plannin' to slip off somewheres to
+see a Negro gal or our wife, or to have a big time, 'specially when the
+moon shine all night so we could see. It wouldn't do to have torch
+lights. They was 'bout all the kind of lights we had them days and if we
+made light, massa come to see what we're doin', and it be jus' too bad
+then for the stray Negro!
+
+"That there war brung suffrin' to lots of people and made a widow out of
+my missis. Massa William, he go and let one them Yankees git him in one
+of them battles and they never brung him home. Missis, she gits the
+letter from his captain, braggin' on his bravery, but that never helped
+him after he was kilt in the war. She gits 'nother letter that us
+Negroes is free and she tells us. We had no place to go, so we starts to
+cry and asks her what we gwine do. She said we could stay and farm with
+her and work her teams and use her tools and land and pay her half of
+what we made, 'sides our supplies. That's a happy bunch of Negroes when
+she told us this.
+
+"Late in that evenin' the Negroes in Huntsville starts hollerin' and
+shoutin' and one gal was hollerin' loud and a white man come ridin' on a
+hoss and leans over and cut that gal nearly half in two and a covered
+wagon come along and picks her up and we never heared nothin' more.
+
+"I married Imogene, a homely weddin' 'fore the war. We didn't have much
+to-do at our weddin'. I asks missis if I could have Imogene and she says
+yes and that's all they was to our weddin'. We had three boys and three
+gals, and Imogene died 'bout twenty years ago and I been livin' with one
+child and 'nother. I gits a little pension from the gov'ment and does
+small jobs round for the white people.
+
+"I 'lieve they ought to have gived us somethin' when we was freed, but
+they turned us out to graze or starve. Most of the white people turned
+the Negroes slam loose. We stayed a year with missis and then she
+married and her husband had his own workers and told us to git out. We
+worked for twenty and thirty cents a day then, and I fin'ly got a place
+with Dr. L.J. Conroe. But after the war the Negro had a hard struggle,
+'cause he was turned loose jus' like he came into the world and no
+education or 'sperience.
+
+"If the Negro wanted to vote the Klu Kluxes was right there to keep him
+from votin'. Negroes was 'fraid to git out and try to 'xert they
+freedom. They'd ride up by a Negro and shoot him jus' like a wild hawg
+and never a word said or done 'bout it.
+
+"I's farmed and makin' a livin' is 'bout all. I come over here in
+Madison County and rents from B.F. Young, clost to Midway and gits me a
+few cows. I been right round here ever since. I lives round with my
+chillen now, 'cause I's gittin' too old to work.
+
+"This young bunch of Negroes is all right some ways, but they won't tell
+the truth. They isn't raised like the white folks raised us. If we
+didn't tell the truth our massa'd tear us all to pieces. Of course, they
+is educated now and can get 'most any kind of work, some of them, what
+we couldn't.
+
+
+
+
+420052
+
+
+[Illustration: Eliza Holman]
+
+
+     ELIZA HOLMAN, 82, was born a slave of the Rev. John Applewhite,
+     near Clinton, Mississippi. In 1861 they came to Texas, settling
+     near Decatur. Eliza now lives at 2507 Clinton Ave., Fort Worth,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"Talk 'bout de past from de time I 'members till now, slave days and
+all? Dat not so hard. I knows what de past am, but what to come, dat am
+different. Dey says, 'Let de past be de guide for de future,' but if you
+don't know de future road, hows you gwine guide? I's sho' glad to tell
+you all I 'members, but dat am a long 'memberance.
+
+"I know I's past 80, for sho', and maybe more, 'cause I's old 'nough to
+'member befo' de war starts. I 'members when de massa move to Texas by
+de ox team and dat am some trip! Dey loads de wagon till dere ain't no
+more room and den sticks we'uns in, and we walks some of de time, too.
+
+"My massa am a preacherman and have jus' three slaves, me and pappy and
+mammy. She am cook and housekeeper and I helps her. Pappy am de field
+hand and de coachman and everything else what am needed. We have a nice,
+two-room log house to live in and it am better den what mos' slaves
+have, with de wood floor and real windows with glass in dem.
+
+"Massa am good but he am strict. He don't have to say much when he wants
+you to do somethin'. Dere am no honey words round de house from him, but
+when him am preachin' in de church, him am different. He am honey man
+den. Massa could tell de right way in de church but it am hard for him
+to act it at home. He makes us go to church every Sunday.
+
+"But I's tellin' you how we'uns come to Texas. De meals am cook by de
+campfire and after breakfast we starts and it am bump, bump, bump all
+day long. It am rocks and holes and mudholes, and it am streams and
+rivers to cross. We'uns cross one river, musta been de Mississippi, and
+drives on a big bridge and dey floats dat bridge right 'cross dat river.
+
+"Massa and missus argues all de way to Texas. She am skeert mos' de time
+and he allus say de Lawd take care of us. He say, 'De Lawd am a-guidin'
+us.' She say, 'It am fools guidin' and a fool move for to start.' Dat de
+way dey talks all de way. And when we gits in de mudhole 'twas a
+argument 'gain. She say, 'Dis am some more of your Lawd's calls.' He
+say, 'Hush, hush, woman. Yous gittin' sac'ligious.' So we has to walk
+two mile for a man to git his yoke of oxen to pull us out dat mudhole,
+and when we out, massa say, 'Thank de Lawd.' And missus say, 'Thank de
+mens and de oxen.'
+
+"Den one day we'uns camps under a big tree and when we'uns woke in de
+mornin' dere am worms and worms and worms. Millions of dem come off dat
+tree. Man, man, dat am a mess. Massa say dey army worms and missus say,
+'Why for dey not in de army den?'
+
+"After we been in Texas 'bout a year, missy Mary gits married to John
+Olham. Missy Mary am massa's daughter. After dat I lives with her and
+Massa John and den hell start poppin' for dis nigger. Missy Mary am good
+but Massa John am de devil. Dat man sho' am cruel, he works me to death
+and whups me for de leas' thing. My pappy say to me, 'You should 'come a
+runaway nigger.' He runs 'way hisself and dat de las' time we hears of
+him.
+
+"When surrender come I has to stay on with Massa Olham, 'cause I has no
+place to go and I's too young to know how to do for myself. I stays
+'bout till I's 16 year old and den I hunts some place to work and gits
+it in Jacksboro and stays dere sev'ral years. I quits when I gits
+married and dat 'bout nine year after de war end.
+
+"I marries Dick Hines at Silver Creek and he am a farmer and a contrary
+man. He worked jus' as hard at his contrariness as him did at his
+farmin'. Mercy, how distressin' and worryment am life with dat nigger! I
+couldn't stand it no longer dan five year till I tooks my getaway. De
+nex' year I marries Sam Walker what worked for cattlement here in Fort
+Worth and he died 'bout 20 year ago. Den 'twas 'bout 13 year ago I
+marries Jack Holman and he died in 1930. I's sho' try dis marrin'
+business but I ain't gwine try it no more, no, suh.
+
+"'Twixt all dem husbands and workin' for de white folks I gits 'long,
+but I's old and de last few years I can't work. Dey pays me $12.00 de
+month from de State and dat's what I lives on. Shucks, I's not worth
+nothin' no more. I jus' sets and sets and thinks of de old days and my
+mammy. All dat make me sad. I'll tell you one dem songs what 'spresses
+my feelin's 'zactly.
+
+  "I's am climbin' Jacob's ladder, ladder,
+  I's am climbin' Jacob's ladder, ladder,
+  Soldier of de cross; O-h-h-h! Rise and shine,
+  Give Gawd de glory, glory, glory,
+  In de year of Jubilee.
+  I wants to climb up Jacob's ladder, ladder,
+  Jacob's ladder, till I gits in de new Jerusalem.
+
+"Dat jus' how I feels."
+
+
+
+
+420143
+
+
+     LARNCE HOLT, 79, was born near Woodville, in Tyler County, Texas, a
+     slave of William Holt. He now lives in Beaumont, Texas.
+
+
+"I's jus' small fry when freedom come, 'cause I's born in 1858. Bill
+Holt was my massa's name, dat why dey calls me Larnce Holt. My massa, he
+come from Alabama but my mammy and daddy born in Texas. Mammy named
+Hannah and daddy Elbert. Mammy cooked for de white folks but daddy, he
+de shoemaker. Dat consider' a fine job on de plantation, 'cause he make
+all de shoes de white folks uses for everyday and all de cullud people
+shoes. Every time dey kill de beef dey save de hide for leather and dey
+put it in de trough call de tan vat, with de oak bark and other things,
+and leave 'em dere long time. Dat change de raw hide to leather. When de
+shoe done us black dem with soot, 'cause us have to do dat or wear 'em
+red. I's de little tike what help my daddy put on de soot.
+
+"Massa have de big plantation and I 'member de big log house. It have de
+gallery on both sides and dey's de long hall down de center. De dogs and
+sometimes a possum used to run through de hall at night. De hall was big
+'nough to dance in and I plays de fiddle.
+
+"My mammy have four boys, call Eb and Ander and Tobe. My big brother Eb
+he tote so many buckets of water to de hands in de field he wore all de
+hair offen de top he head.
+
+"I be so glad when Christmas come, when I's li'l. Down in de quarter us
+hang up stocking and us have plenty homemake ginger cake and candy make
+out of sugar and maybe a apple. One Christmas I real small and my mammy
+buy me a suit of clothes in de store. I so proud of it I 'fraid to sit
+down in it. 'Terials in dem day was strong and last a long time. One
+time I git de first pair shoes from a store. I thought dey's gold. My
+daddy bought dem for me and dey have a brace in de toe and was nat'ral
+black.
+
+"When freedom come us family breaks up. Old missy can't bear see my
+mammy go, so us stay. Dey give my daddy a place on credick and he start
+farm and dey even 'low him hosses and mule and other things he need. My
+massa good to de niggers. I stays with my mammy till she die when I ten
+year old and den my brother Eb he take me and raise me till I sixteen.
+Den I go off for myself.
+
+"Dem young year us have good time. I fiddle to de dance, play 'Git up in
+de Cool,' and 'Hopus Creek and de Water.' Us sho' dress up for de dance.
+I have black calico pants with red ribbon up de sides and a hickory
+shirt. De gals all wears ribbons 'round de waist and one like it 'round
+de head.
+
+"Us have more hard time after freedom come dan in all de other time
+together. Us livin' in trouble time. 'Bout 15 year ago I lost a leg, a
+big log fall 'cross it when I makin' ties. I had plenty den but it go
+for de hospital.
+
+
+
+
+420120
+
+
+[Illustration: Bill Homer]
+
+
+     BILL HOMER, 87, was born a slave on June 17, 1850, to Mr. Jack
+     Homer, who owned a large plantation near Shreveport, La. In 1860
+     Bill was given to Mr. Homer's daughter, who moved to Caldwell,
+     Texas. Bill now lives at 3215 McKinley Ave., Fort Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"I is 87 years old, 'cause I is born on June 17th, in 1850, and that's
+'cording to de statement my missy give me. I was born on Massa Jack
+Homer's plantation, close to Shreveport. Him owned my mammy and my pappy
+and 'bout 100 other slaves. Him's plantation was a big un. I don't know
+how many acres him have, but it was miles long. Dere was so many
+buildings and sheds on dat place it was a small town. De massa's house
+was a big two-story building and dere was de spinnin' house, de
+smokehouse, de blacksmith shop and a nursery for de cullud chillens and
+a lot of sheds and sich. In de nigger quarters dere was 50 one-room
+cabins and dey was ten in a row and dere was five rows.
+
+"De cabins was built of logs and had dirt floors and a hole whar a
+window should be and a stone fireplace for de cookin' and de heat. Dere
+was a cookhouse for de big house and all de cookin' for de white folks
+was 'tended to by four cooks. We has lots of food, too--cornmeal and
+vegetables and milk and 'lassas and meat. For mos' de meat dey kotched
+hawgs in de Miss'sippi River bottoms. Once a week, we have white flour
+biscuit.
+
+"Some work was hard and some easy, but massa don' 'lieve in overworkin'
+his slaves. Sat'day afternoon and Sunday, dere was no work. Some
+whippin' done, but mos' reasonable. If de nigger stubborn, deys whips
+'nough for to change his mind. If de nigger runs on, dat calls de good
+whippin's. If any of de cullud folks has de misery, dey lets him res' in
+bed and if de misery bad de massa call de doctor.
+
+"I larnt to be coachman and drive for massa's family. But in de year of
+1860, Missy Mary gits married to Bill Johnson and at dat weddin' massa
+Homer gives me and 49 other niggers to her for de weddin' present. Massa
+Johnson's father gives him 50 niggers too. Dey has a gran' weddin'. I
+helps take care of de hosses and dey jus' kep' a-comin'. I 'spect dere
+was more'n 100 peoples dere and dey have lots of music and dancin' and
+eats and, I 'spects, drinks, 'cause we'uns made peach brandy. You see,
+de massa had his own still.
+
+"After de weddin' was over, dey gives de couple de infare. Dere's whar
+dis nigger comes in. I and de other niggers was lined up, all with de
+clean clothes on and den de massa say, 'For to give my lovin' daughter
+de start, I gives you dese 50 niggers. Massa Bill's father done de same
+for his son, and dere we'uns was, 100 niggers with a new massa.
+
+"Dey loads 15 or 20 wagons and starts for Texas. We travels from
+daylight to dark, with mos' de niggers walkin'. Of course, it was hard,
+but we enjoys de trip. Dere was one nigger called Monk and him knows a
+song and larned it to us, like this:
+
+  "'Walk, walk, you nigger, walk!
+  De road am dusty, de road am tough,
+  Dust in de eye, dust in de tuft;
+  Dust in de mouth, yous can't talk--
+  Walk, you niggers, don't you balk.
+
+  "'Walk, walk, you nigger walk!
+  De road am dusty, de road am rough.
+  Walk 'til we reach dere, walk or bust--
+  De road am long, we be dere by and by.'
+
+Now, we'uns was a-follerin' behin' de wagons and we'uns sings it to de
+slow steps of de ox. We'uns don't sing it many times 'til de missy come
+and sit in de back of de wagon, facin' we'uns and she begin to beat de
+slow time and sing wid we'uns. Dat please Missy Mary to sing with us and
+she laugh and laugh.
+
+"After 'bout two weeks we comes to de place near Caldwell, in Texas, and
+dere was buildin's and land cleared, so we's soon settled. Massa plants
+mostly cotton and corn and clears more land. I larned to be a coachman,
+but on dat place I de ox driver or uses de hoe.
+
+"Yous never drive de ox, did yous? De mule ain't stubborn side of de ox,
+de ox am stubborn and den some more. One time I's haulin' fence rails
+and de oxen starts to turn gee when I wants dem to go ahead. I calls for
+haw, but dey pays dis nigger no mind and keeps agwine gee. Den dey
+starts to run and de overseer hollers and asks me, 'Whar you gwine?' I
+hollers back, 'I's not gwine, I's bein' took.' Dem oxen takes me to de
+well for de water, 'cause if dey gits dry and is near water, dey goes in
+spite of de devil.
+
+"De treatment from new massa am good, 'cause of Missy Mary. She say to
+Massa Bill, 'if you mus' 'buse de nigger, 'buse yous own.' We has music
+and parties. We plays de quill, make from willow stick when de sap am
+up. Yous takes de stick and pounds de bark loose and slips it off, den
+slit de wood in one end and down one side, puts holes in de bark and put
+it back on de stick. De quill plays like de flute.
+
+"I never goes out without de pass, so I never has trouble with de patter
+rollers. Nigger Monk, him have de 'sperience with 'em. Dey kotched him
+twice and dey sho' makes him hump and holler. After dat he gits pass or
+stays to home.
+
+"De War make no diff'runce with us, 'cept de soldiers comes and takes de
+rations. But we'uns never goes hungry, 'cause de massa puts some niggers
+hustlin' for wil' hawgs. After surrender, missy reads de paper and tells
+dat we'uns is free, but dat we'uns kin stay 'til we is 'justed to de
+change.
+
+"De second year after de War, de massa sells de plantation and goes back
+to Louisiana and den we'uns all lef'. I goes to Laredo for seven year
+and works on a stock ranch, den I goes to farmin'. I gits married in
+1879 to Mary Robinson and we'uns has 14 chilluns. Four of dem lives
+here.
+
+"I works hard all my life 'til 1935 and den I's too old. My wife and I
+lives on de pensions we gits.
+
+
+
+
+420234
+
+
+[Illustration: Scott Hooper]
+
+
+     SCOTT HOOPER, 81, was born a slave of the Rev. Robert Turner, a
+     Baptist minister who owned seven slave families. They lived on a
+     small farm near Tenaha, then called Bucksnort, in Shelby County,
+     Texas. Scott's father was owned by Jack Hooper, a neighboring
+     farmer. Scott married Steve Hooper when she was thirteen and they
+     had eight children, whose whereabouts are now unknown to her. She
+     receives an $8.00 monthly pension.
+
+
+"Well, I'll do de best I can to tell yous 'bout my life. I used to have
+de good 'collection, but worryment 'bout ups and downs has 'fected my
+'membance. I knows how old I is, 'cause mammy have it in de Bible, and
+I's born in de year 1856, right in Shelby County, and near by Bucksnort,
+what am call Tenaha now.
+
+"Massa Turner am de bestest man he could be and taken good care of us,
+for sho'. He treat us like humans. There am no whuppin's like some other
+places has. Gosh. What some dem old slaves tell 'bout de whup and de
+short rations and lots of hard work am awful, so us am lucky.
+
+"Massa don't have de big place, but jus' seven families what was five to
+ten in de family. My mammy had nine chillen, but my pappy didn't live on
+us place, but on Jack Hooper's farm, what am four mile off. He comes
+Wednesday and Saturday night to see us. His massa am good, too, and lets
+him work a acre of land and all what he raises he can sell. Pappy plants
+cotton and mostest de time he raises better'n half de bale to
+he acre. Dat-a-way, he have money and he own pony
+and saddle, and he brung us chillen candy and toys and coffee and tea
+for mammy. He done save 'bout $500 when surrender come, but it am all
+'Federate money and it ain't worth nothin'. He give it to us chillen to
+play with.
+
+"Massa Turner am de Baptist preacherman and he have de church at
+Bucksnort. He run de store, too, and folks laughs 'cause 'sides being a
+preacherman he sells whiskey in dat store. He makes it medicine for us,
+with de cherry bark and de rust from iron nails in it. He call it,
+'Bitters,' and it a good name. It sho' taste bitter as gall. When us
+feels de misery it am bitters us gits. Castor oil am candy 'side dem
+bitters!
+
+"My grandmammy am de cook and all us eats in de shed. It am plenty food
+and meat and 'lasses and brown sugar and milk and butter, and even some
+white flour. Course, peas and beans am allus on dat table.
+
+"When surrender come massa calls all us in de yard and makes de talk. He
+tells us we's free and am awful sorry and show great worryment. He say
+he hate to part with us and us been good to him, but it am de law. He
+say us can stay and work de land on shares, but mostest left. Course,
+mammy go to Massa Hooper's place to pappy and he rents land from Massa
+Hooper, and us live there seven years and might yet, but dem Klu Klux
+causes so much troublement. All us niggers 'fraid to sleep in de house
+and goes to de woods at night. Pappy gits 'fraid something happen to us
+and come to Fort Worth. Dat in 1872 and he farms over in de bottom.
+
+"I's married to Steve Hooper den, 'cause us marry when I's thirteen
+years old. He goes in teamin' in Fort Worth and hauls sand and gravel
+twenty-nine years. He doin' sich when he dies in 1900. Den I does
+laundry work till I's too old. I tries to buy dis house and does fair
+till age catches me and now I can't pay for it. All I has is $8.00 de
+month and I's glad to git dat, but it won't even buy food. On sich
+'mount, there am no way to stinch myself and pinch off de payments on de
+house. Dat am de worryment.
+
+
+
+
+420021
+
+
+[Illustration: Alice Houston (A)]
+
+[Illustration: Alice Houston (B)]
+
+
+     ALICE HOUSTON, pioneer nurse and midwife on whom many San Angeloans
+     have relied for years, was born October 22, 1859. She was a slave
+     of Judge Jim Watkins on his small plantation in Hays County, near
+     San Marcos, Texas and served as house girl to her mistress, Mrs.
+     Lillie Watkins for many years after the Civil War. At Mrs. Watkins'
+     death she came with her husband, Jim Houston, to San Angelo, Texas
+     where she has continued her services as nurse to white families to
+     the present time.
+
+
+Alice relates her slave day experiences as follows:
+
+"I was jes' a little chile when dat Civil War broke out and I's had de
+bes' white folks in de world. My ole mistress she train me for her
+house girl and nurse maid. Dat's whar I's gits so many good ideas fer
+nursin'.
+
+"My mother's name was Mariah Watkins an' my father was named Henry
+Watkins. He would go out in de woods on Sat'day nights and ketch
+'possums and bring dem home and bake 'em wid taters. Dat was de best
+eatin' we had. Course we had good food all de time but we jes' like dat
+'possum best.
+
+"My marster, he only have four families and he had a big garden fer all
+of us. We had our huts at de back of de farm. Dey was made out of logs
+and de cracks daubbed up wid mud. Dey was clean and comfortable though,
+and we had good beds.
+
+"When we was jes' little kids ole marster he ketch us a stealin'
+watermelons and he say, 'Git! Git! Git! And when we runs and stoops over
+to crawl through de crack of de fence he sho' give us a big spank. Den
+we runs off cryin' and lookin' back like.
+
+"Ole marster, he had lots of hogs and cows and chickens and I can jes'
+taste dat clabber milk now. Ole miss, she have a big dishpan full of
+clabber and she tells de girl to set dat down out in de yard and she
+say, 'Give all dem chillun a spoon now and let dem eat dat.' When we all
+git 'round dat pan we sho' would lick dat clabber up.
+
+"We had straight slips made out of white lowell what was wove on dat ole
+spinnin' wheel. Den dey make jeans for de men's breeches and dye it wid
+copperas and some of de cloth dey dye wid sumac berries and hit was
+sho' purty too.
+
+"Ole miss, she make soda out of a certain kind of weed and dey makes
+coffee out of dried sweet taters.
+
+"My marster he didn' have no over-seer. He say his slaves had to be
+treated right. He never 'lowed none of his slaves to be sold 'way from
+their folks. I's nev'r, nev'r seen any slaves in chains but I's hear
+talk of dem chains.
+
+"My white folks, dey tries to teach us to read and spell and write some
+and after ole marster move into town he lets us go to a real school.
+That's how come I can read so many docto' books you see.
+
+"We goes to church wid our white folks at dem camp meetin's and oh
+Lawdy! Yes, mam, we all sho' did shout. Sometimes we jined de church
+too.
+
+"We washed our clothes on Sat'day and danced dat night.
+
+"On Christmas and New Year we would have all de good things old marster
+and ole missus had and when any of de white folks marry or die dey sho'
+carry on big. Weddin's and funerals, dem was de biggest times.
+
+"When we gits sick, ole marster he have de docto' right now. He sho' was
+good 'bout dat. Ole miss she make us wear a piece of lead 'round our
+necks fer de malaria and to keeps our nose from bleedin' and all of us
+wore some asafoetida 'round our necks to keep off contagion.
+
+"When de war close ole marster calls up all de slaves and he say, 'You's
+all free people now, jes' same as I is, and you can go or stay,' and we
+all wants to stay 'cause wasn't nothin' we knowed how to do only what
+ole marster tells us. He say he let us work de land and give us half of
+what we make, and we all stayed on several years until he died. We
+stayed with Miss Watkins, and here I is an ole nigga, still adoin' good
+in dis world, a-tellin' de white folks how to take care of de
+chilluns."
+
+
+
+
+420271
+
+
+     JOSEPHINE HOWARD was born in slavery on the Walton plantation near
+     Tuscaloosa, Alabama. She does not know her age, but when Mr. Walton
+     moved to Texas, before the Civil War, she was old enough to work in
+     the fields. Josephine is blind and very feeble. She lives with a
+     daughter at 1520 Arthur St., Houston, Texas.
+
+
+"Lawd have mercy, I been here a thousand year, seems like. 'Course I
+ain't been here so long, but it seems like it when I gits to thinkin'
+back. It was long time since I was born, long 'fore de war. Mammy's name
+was Leonora and she was cook for Marse Tim Walton what had de plantation
+at Tuscaloosa. Dat am in Alabamy. Papa's name was Joe Tatum and he lived
+on de place 'jinin' ourn. Course, papa and mamy wasn't married like
+folks now, 'cause dem times de white folks jes' put slave men and women
+together like hosses or cattle.
+
+"Dey allus done tell us it am wrong to lie and steal, but why did de
+white folks steal my mammy and her mammy? Dey lives clost to some water,
+somewheres over in Africy, and de man come in a little boat to de sho'
+and tell dem he got presents on de big boat. Most de men am out huntin'
+and my mammy and her mammy gits took out to dat big boat and dey locks
+dem in a black hole what mammy say so black you can't see nothin'. Dat
+de sinfulles' stealin' dey is.
+
+"De captain keep dem locked in dat black hole till dat boat gits to
+Mobile and dey is put on de block and sold. Mammy is 'bout twelve year
+old and dey am sold to Marse Tim, but grandma dies in a month and dey
+puts her in de slave graveyard.
+
+"Mammy am nuss gal till she git older and den cook, and den old Marse
+Tim puts her and papa together and she has eight chillen. I reckon Marse
+Tim warn't no wor'ser dan other white folks. De nigger driver sho' whip
+us, with de reason and without de reason. You never knowed. If dey done
+took de notion dey jes' lays it on you and you can't do nothin'.
+
+"One mornin' we is all herded up and mammy am cryin' and say dey gwine
+to Texas, but can't take papa. He don't 'long to dem. Dat de lastes'
+time we ever seed papa. Us and de women am put in wagons but de men
+slaves am chained together and has to walk.
+
+"Marse Tim done git a big farm up by Marshall but only live a year dere
+and his boys run de place. Dey jes' like dey papa, work us and work us.
+Lawd have mercy, I hear dat call in de mornin' like it jes' jesterday,
+'All right, everybody out, and you better git out iffen you don't want
+to feel dat bullwhip 'cross you back.'
+
+"My gal I lives with don't like me to talk 'bout dem times. She say it
+ain't no more and it ain't good to think 'bout it. But when you has live
+in slave times you ain't gwine forgit dem, no, suh! I's old and blind
+and no 'count, but I's alive, but in slave times I'd be dead long time
+ago, 'cause white folks didn't have no use for old niggers and git shet
+of dem one way or t'other.
+
+"It ain't till de sojers comes we is free. Dey wants us to git in de
+pickin', so my folks and some more stays. Dey didn't know no place to go
+to. Mammy done took sick and die and I hires out to cook for Missy
+Howard, and marries her coachman, what am Woodson Howard. We farms and
+comes to Houston nigh sixty year ago. Dey has mule cars den. Woodson
+gits a job drayin' and 'fore he dies we raises three boys and seven
+gals, but all 'cept two gals am dead now. Dey takes care of me, and dat
+all I know 'bout myself.
+
+
+
+
+420275
+
+
+     LIZZIE HUGHES, blind Negress of Harrison County, Texas, was born on
+     Christmas Day, 1848, a slave of Dr. Newton Fall, near Nacogdoches.
+     Lizzie married when she was eighteen and has lived near Marshall
+     since that time. She is cared for by a married daughter, who lives
+     on Lizzie's farm.
+
+
+"My name am Lizzie Fall Hughes. I was borned on Christmas at Chireno,
+'tween old Nacogdoches town and San Augustine. Dat eighty-nine year ago
+in slavery time. My young master give me my age on a piece of paper when
+I married but the rats cut it up.
+
+"I 'longed to Dr. Fall and old Miss Nancy, his wife. They come from
+Georgia. Papa was named Ed Wilson Fall and mammy was June. Dr. Newton
+Fall had a big place at Chireno and a hundred slaves. They lived in li'l
+houses round the edge of the field. We had everything we needed. Dr.
+Newton run a store and was a big printer. He had a printin' house at
+Chireno and 'nother in California.
+
+"The land was red and they worked them big Missouri mules and sho'
+raised somethin'. Master had fifty head of cows, too, and they was
+plenty wild game. When master was gone he had a overseer, but tell him
+not to whip. He didn't 'lieve in rushin' his niggers. All the white
+folks at Chireno was good to they niggers. On Saturday night master give
+all the men a jug of syrup and a sack of flour and a ham or middlin' and
+the smokehouse was allus full of beef and pork. We had a good time on
+that place and the niggers was happy. I 'member the men go out in the
+mornin', singin':
+
+  "'I went to the barn with a shinin', bright moon,
+  I went to the wood a-huntin' a coon.
+  The coon spied me from a sugar maple tree,
+  Down went my gun and up the tree went me.
+  Nigger and coon come tumblin' down,
+  Give the hide to master to take off to town,
+  That coon was full of good old fat,
+  And master brung me a new beaver hat.'
+
+  "Part of 'nother song go like this:
+
+  "'Master say, you breath smell of brandy,
+  Nigger say, no, I's lick 'lasses candy.'
+
+"When old master come to the lot and hear the men singin' like that, he
+say, 'Them boys is lively this mornin', I's gwine git a big day's
+plowin' done. They did, too, 'cause them big Missouri mules sho' tore up
+that red land. Sometime they sing:
+
+  "'This ain't Christmas mornin', just a long summer day,
+  Hurry up, yellow boy and don't run 'way,
+  Grass in the cotton and weeds in the corn,
+  Get in the field, 'cause it soon be morn.'
+
+"At night when the hands come in they didn't do nothin' but eat and cut
+up round the quarters. They'd have a big ball in a big barn there on the
+place and sixty and seventy on the floor at once, singin':
+
+  "'Juba this and Juba that,
+  Juba killed a yaller cat.
+  Juba this and Juba that,
+  Hold you partner where you at.'
+
+"The whites preached to the niggers and the niggers preached to
+theyselves. Gen'man sho' could preach good them times; everybody cried,
+they preached so good. I's a mourner when I git free.
+
+"I's big 'nough to work round the house when war starts, but not big
+'nough to be studyin' 'bout marryin'. I's sho' sorry when we's sot
+free. Old master didn't tell his niggers they free. He didn't want them
+to go. On a day he's gone, two white men come and showed us a piece of
+paper and say we's free now. One them men was a big mill man and told
+mama he'll give her $12.00 a month and feed her seven li'l niggers if
+she go cook for his millhands. Papa done die in slavery, so mama goes
+with the man. I run off and hid under the house. I wouldn't leave till I
+seed master. When he come home he say, 'Lizzie, why didn't you go?' I
+say, 'I don't want to leave my preserves and light bread.' He let me
+stay.
+
+"Then I gits me a li'l man. He works for master in the store and I works
+round the house. Master give me two dresses and a pair of shoes when I
+married. We lived with him a year or two and then come to Marshall. My
+husband worked on public work and I kept house for white folks and we
+saved our money and buyed this li'l farm. My man's dead fourteen years
+now and my gal and her husband keeps the farm goin'.
+
+"Me and my man didn't have nothin' when we left Nacogdoches, but we
+works hard and saves our money and buyed this farm. It 'pear like these
+young niggers don't try to 'cumulate nothin'.
+
+
+
+
+420226
+
+
+[Illustration: Moses Hursey]
+
+
+     MOSE HURSEY believes he is about eighty-two years old. He was born
+     in slavery on a plantation in Louisiana, and was brought to Texas
+     by his parents after they were freed. Mose has been a preacher most
+     of his life, and now believes he is appointed by God to be "Head
+     Prophet of the World." He lives with his daughter at 1120 Tenth
+     St., Dallas, Texas.
+
+
+"I was born somewhere in Louisiana, but can't rec'lect the place exact,
+'cause I was such a little chap when we left there. But I heared my
+mother and father say they belonged to Marse Morris, a fine gentleman,
+with everything fine. He sold them to Marse Jim Boling, of Red River
+County, in Texas. So they changes their name from Morris to Boling, Liza
+Boling and Charlie Boling, they was. Marse Boling didn't buy my brother
+and sister, so that made me the olderest child and the onliest one.
+
+"The Bolings had a 'normous big house and a 'normous big piece of land.
+The house was the finest I ever seen, white and two-story. He had about
+sixty slaves, and he thought a powerful lot of my folks, 'cause they was
+good workers. My mother, special, was a powerful 'ligious woman.
+
+"We lived right well, considerin'. We had a little log house like the
+rest of the niggers and I played round the place. Eatin' time come, my
+mother brung a pot of peas or beans and cornbread or side meat. I had
+'nother brother and sister comin' 'long then, and we had tin plates and
+cups and knives and spoons, and allus sot to our food.
+
+"We had 'nough of clothes, sich as they was. I wore shirttails out of
+duckings till I was a big boy. All the little niggers wore shirttails.
+My mother had fair to middlin' cotton dresses.
+
+"All week the niggers worked plantin' and hoein' and carin' for the
+livestock. They raised cotton and corn and veg'tables, and mules and
+horses and hawgs and sheep. On Sundays they had meetin', sometimes at
+our house, sometimes at 'nother house. Right fine meetin's, too. They'd
+preach and pray and sing--shout, too. I heared them git up with a
+powerful force of the spirit, clappin' they hands and walkin' round the
+place. They'd shout, 'I got the glory. I got that old time 'ligion in my
+heart.' I seen some powerful 'figurations of the spirit in them days.
+Uncle Billy preached to us and he was right good at preachin' and
+nat'rally a good man, anyways. We'd sing:
+
+  "'Sisters, won't you help me bear my cross,
+  Help me bear my cross,
+  I been done wear my cross.
+  I been done with all things here,
+  'Cause I reach over Zion's Hill.
+  Sisters, won't you please help bear my cross,
+  Up over Zion's hill?'
+
+"I seed a smart number of wagons and mules a-passin' along and some camp
+along the woods by our place. I heared they was a war and folks was
+goin' with 'visions and livestock. I wasn't much bigger'n a minute and I
+was scared clean to my wits.
+
+"Then they's a time when paw says we'll be a-searchin' a place to stay
+and work on a pay way. They was a consider'ble many niggers left the
+Bolings. The day we went away, which was 'cause 'twas the breakin' up of
+slavery, we went in the wagon, out the carriage gate in front the
+Boling's place. As we was leavin', Mr. Boling called me and give me a
+cup sweet coffee. He thought consid'ble plenty of me.
+
+"We went to a place called Mantua, or somethin' like that. My paw says
+he'll make a man of me, and he puts me to breakin' ground and choppin'
+wood. Them was bad times. Money was scarce and our feedin' was pore.
+
+"My paw died and maw and me and the children, Nancy and Margina and
+Jessie and George, moves to a little place right outside Sherman. Maw
+took in washin' and ironin'. I went one week to school and the teacher
+said I learned fastest of any boy she ever see. She was a nice, white
+lady. Maw took me out of school 'cause she needed me at home to tend the
+other children, so's she could work. I had a powerful yearnin' to read
+and write, and I studied out'n my books by myself and my friends helped
+me with the cipherin'.
+
+"I did whatever work I could find to do, but my maw said I was a
+different mood to the other children. I was allus of a 'ligious and
+serious turn of mind. I was baptised when I was fifteen and then when I
+was about twenty-five I heared a clear call to preach the Gospel-word. I
+went to preachin' the word of Gawd. I got married and raised a family of
+children, and I farmed and preached.
+
+"I was just a preacher till about thirty years ago, and then Gawd
+started makin' a prophet out of me. Today I am Mose Hursey, Head Prophet
+to the World. They is lesser prophets, but I is the main one. I became a
+great prophet by fastin' and prayin'. I fast Mondays and Wednesdays and
+Fridays. I know Gawd is feedin' the people through me. I see him in
+visions and he speaks to me. In 1936 I saw him at Commerce and Jefferson
+Streets (Dallas) and he had a great banner, sayin', 'All needs a
+pension.' In August this year I had a great vision of war in the eastern
+corner of the world. I seen miles of men marchin' and big guns and
+trenches filled with dead men. Gawd tells me to tell the people to be
+prepared, 'cause the tides of war is rollin' this way, and all the
+thousands of millions of dollars they spend agin it ain't goin' to stop
+it. I live to tell people the word Gawd speaks through me.
+
+
+
+
+420081
+
+
+[Illustration: Charley Hurt]
+
+
+     CHARLEY HURT, 85, was born a slave of John Hurt, who owned a large
+     plantation and over a hundred slaves, in Oglethorpe County,
+     Georgia. Charley stayed with his master for five years after the
+     Civil War. In 1899 Charley moved to Fort Worth, and now lives at
+     308 S. Harding St.
+
+
+"Yes, suh, I'm borned in slavery and not 'shamed of it, 'cause I can't
+help how I'm borned. Dere am folks what wont say dey borned in slavery.
+
+"Us plantation am near Maxie, over in Oglethorpe County, in Georgia, and
+massa am John Hurt and he have near a hunerd slaves. Us live in de li'l
+cabin make from logs chink with mud and straw and twigs am mix with dat
+mud to make it hold. De big chimley am outside de cabin mostly, and am
+logs and mud, too. De cabin am 'bout ten by twenty feet and jus' one
+room.
+
+"Would I like some dem rations we used to git, now? 'Deed I would. Dem
+was good, dat meat and cornmeal and 'lasses and plenty milk and
+sometimes butter. De meat am mostest pork, with some beef, 'cause massa
+raise plenty hawgs and tendin' meat curin' am my first work. I puts dat
+meat in de brine and den smokes de hams and shoulders. When hawg-killin'
+time come I'm busy watchin' de smokehouse, what am big, and hams and
+sich hung on racks 'bout six feet high from de fireplace. Den it my duty
+to keep dat fire smoulderin' and jus' smokin'. De more smoke, de better.
+Den I packs dat meat in hawgs heads and puts salt over each layer. Dat
+am some meat!
+
+"I mus' tell you 'bout dat whiskey and brandy. Massa have he own still
+and allus have three barrels or more whiskey and brandy on hand. Den on
+Christmas Day, him puts a tub of whiskey or brandy in de yard and hangs
+tin cups 'round de tub. Us helps ourselves. At first us start jokin'
+with each other, den starts to sing and everybody am happy. Massa
+watches us and if one us gittin' too much, massa sends him to he cabin
+and he sleep it off. Anyway, dat one day on massa's place all am happy
+and forgits dey am slaves.
+
+"De last Christmas 'fore surrender I gits too much and am sick. Gosh
+a-mighty! Dat de sickest I ever be and dat de last time I gits drunk.
+Yes, suh, dat spoil dis nigger's taste for whiskey.
+
+"Now, 'bout whuppin's, dere am only one whuppin' what am give. Jerry
+gits dat, 'cause he wont do what massa say. He tie Jerry on de log and
+have de rawhide whip.
+
+"Dere am system on dat plantation. Everybody do he own work, sich as
+field hands, stock hands, de blacksmith and de shoemaker and de weavers
+and clothes makers. I'm all 'round worker and goes after de mail, jus'
+runnin' 'round de place.
+
+"When de war start, all massa's sons jines de army. He have three. John
+am de captain and James carry de flag and I guesses August am jus' de
+plain sojer. Dey all comes home 'fore de war am finish. August git run
+over by de wheel of de cannon truck and it cripple he legs so he can't
+walk good. James gits sick with some kind fever misery and he am sent
+home. Den John am shot in de shoulder and it stay sore and won't heal.
+One day Jerry say to massa he want to look at dat sore. Him see
+somethin' stickin' out and he pull it. It a piece of young massa's coat
+and de bullet have carry it into de flesh and it am dere a whole year.
+De sore gits all right after dat out.
+
+"'Fore de boys goes to fightin' dey trains near de place where am de big
+field for to train hunerds of sojer boys. I likes dat, 'cause de drums
+goes, 'ter-ump, ter-ump, ter-ump, tump, tump,' and de fifes goes, 'te,
+te, ta, te, tat' and plays Dixie. One day Young massa trainin' dem
+sojers and he am walkin' backwards and facin' dem sojers, and jus' as
+him say, 'Halt,' down he go, flat on he back. Right away quick, him say,
+''Bout face,' 'cause him don't want dem sojers to laugh in he face, so
+he turn dem 'round.
+
+"When surrender come, all dem what not kilt comes home and dey have a
+big 'ception in Maxie. Dey have lots of long tables and de food am put
+on 'fore de train come in. Dere was two coaches full of de boys and dey
+doesn't wait for dat train to stop. No, suh, dey crawls out de windows.
+Well, dere am huggin' and kissin' of de homefolks, and dey all laughin'
+and cryin' at de same time, 'cause of de joy dey's feelin'. Den dey all
+sets down to de feast. Massa make de welcome talk. I done hide in de
+wagon full of hams and cakes and pies and dere a canvas over dat stuff,
+and dat how I gits to dat welcome home.
+
+"I crawls out 'fore dey unloads de wagon and 'fore long massa see me and
+him say, 'Gosh for hemlock! Boy, how comes you here?' I lets my face
+slip a li'l, 'bout half a laugh. I says, 'I rides under dat canvas.' Dat
+start him laughin' and he tells de people dat I'm a pat'otic nigger.
+After dey all eats us niggers gits to eat. For once, I gits plenty pie
+and cake.
+
+"Us never have much joyments in slave time. Only when de corn ready for
+huskin' all de neighbors comes dere and a whole big crowd am a-huskin'
+and singin'. I can't 'member dem songs, 'cause I'm not much for singin'.
+One go like dis:
+
+  "'Pull de husk, break de ear;
+  Whoa, I's got de red ear here.'
+
+"When you finds de red ear, dat 'titles you to de prize, like kissin' de
+gal or de drink of brandy or somethin'. Dey not 'nough red ears to suit
+us.
+
+"I'm thirteen year when surrender come. Massa don't call us to him like
+other massas done. Him jus' go 'mongst de folks and say, 'Well, folks,
+yous am free now and no longer my prop'ty, and yous 'titled to pay for
+work. I 'member old Jerry sings, 'Free, free as de jaybird, free to flew
+like de jaybird. Whew!'
+
+"Some de cullud folks stays and some goes. Mostest dem stays and works
+de land on shares. I stays till I'm eighteen year and den I works for a
+farmer den for a blacksmith den some carpenter work and some
+railroadin'. De fact am, I works at anything I could find to does. I
+does dat most my life.
+
+"It good for me to stay with Massa Hurt after freedom, 'cause den day
+plenty trouble in every place. Dere am fightin' 'twixt white and cullud
+folks over votin' and sich. Dey try 'lect my brudder to Congress one
+time, but he not 'lect, 'cause de white man what am runnin' 'gainst him
+gits a cullud preacher to run 'gainst dem both. Dat split de cullud
+votes and de white man am 'lect. I votes like de white man say, couple
+times, but after dat I stops votin'. It ain't right for me to vote 'less
+I knows how and why. I larns to read and den starts votin' 'gain.
+
+"After de war de Ku Klux am org'nize and dey makes de niggers plenty
+trouble. Sometimes de niggers has it comin' to 'em and lots of times dey
+am 'posed on. Dere a old, cullud man name George and he don't trouble
+nobody, but one night de white caps--dat what dey called--comes to
+George's place. Now, George know of some folks what am whupped for
+no-cause, so he prepare for dem white caps. When dey gits to he house
+George am in de loft. He tell dem he done nothin' wrong and for dem to
+go 'way, or he kill dem. Dey say he gwine have a free sample of what he
+git if he do wrong and one dem white caps starts up de ladder to git
+George and George shoot him dead. 'Nother white cap starts shootin'
+through de ceilin'. He can't see George but through de cracks George can
+see and he shoots de second feller. So dey leaves and say dey come back.
+George runs to he old massa and he takes George to de law men. Never
+nothin' am done 'bout him killin' de white caps, 'cause dem white caps
+goes 'round 'busing niggers.
+
+"I comes to Texas 'bout 40 year since and gits by purty good till de
+depression comes, den it hard for me. My age am 'gainst me, too, and
+many de time I's wish for some dat old ham and bacon on de old
+plantation.
+
+"First I marries Ann Arrant, in 1898 dat was, and us have three chillen
+but dey all dead. Us git sep'rate in 1917 and I marries Mary Durham in
+1921, and us still livin' together. Us have no chillen. Mammy have ten
+chillen but I'm de only one what am livin' now, 'cause I'm de youngest.
+
+
+
+
+420088
+
+
+[Illustration: Wash Ingram]
+
+
+     WASH INGRAM, A 93 year old Negro, was born a slave of Capt. Jim
+     Wall, of Richmond, Va. His father, Charley Wall Ingram, ran away
+     and secured work in a gold mine. Later, his mother died and Capt.
+     Wall sold Wash and his two brothers to Jim Ingram, of Carthage,
+     Texas. When Wash's father learned this, he overtook his sons before
+     they reached Texas and put himself back in bondage, so he could be
+     with his children. Wash served as water carrier for the Confederate
+     soldiers at the battle of Mansfield, La. He now lives with friends
+     on the Elysian Fields Road, seven miles southeast of Marshall,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"I don' know just how ole I is. I was 'bout 18 when de War was over. I
+was bo'n on Captain Wall's place in Richmond, Virgini'. Pappy's name was
+Charlie and mammy's name was Ca'line. I had six sisters and two brothers
+and all de sisters is dead. I haven't heard from my brothers since
+Master turn us loose, a year after de war.
+
+"Pappy say dat he and mammy was sold and traded lots of times in
+Virgini'. We always went by de name of whoever we belonged to. I first
+worked as a roustabout boy dere on Capt. Wall's place in Virgini'. He
+was sho' a big man, weighed more'n 200 pounds. He owned lots of niggers
+and worked lots of land. The white folks was good to us, but Pappy was a
+fightin' man and he run off and got a job in a gold mine in Virgini'.
+
+"After pappy run away, mammy died and den one day de overseer herded up
+a big bunch of us niggers and driv us to Barnum's Tradin' Ya'd down in
+Mississippi. Dat's a place where dey sold and traded Niggers jus' lak
+stock. I cried when Capt. Wall sold me, 'cause dat was one man dat sho'
+was good to his niggers. But he had too many slaves.
+
+"Cotton was a good price den and dem slave buyers had plenty of money.
+We was sold to Jim Ingram, of Carthage. He bought a big gang of slaves
+and refugeed part of 'em to Louisiana and part to Texas. We come to
+Texas in ox wagons. While we was on the way, camped at Keachie,
+Louisiana, a man come ridin' into camp and someone say to me, 'Wash,
+dar's your pappy.' I didn' believe it 'cause pappy was workin' in a gold
+mine in Virgini'. Some of de men told pappy his chillen is in camp and
+he come and fin' me and my brothers. Den he jine Master Ingram's slaves
+so he can be with his chillen.
+
+"Master Ingram had a big plantation down near Carthage and lots of
+niggers. He also buyed land, cleared it and sol' it. I plowed with oxen.
+We had a overseer and sev'ral taskmasters. Dey whip de niggers for not
+workin' right, or for runnin' 'way or pilferin' roun' master's house. We
+woke up at four o'clock and worked from sunup to sundown. Dey give us an
+hour for dinner. Dem dat work roun' de house et at tables with plates.
+Dem dat work in de field was drove in from work and fed jus' like hosses
+at a big, long wooden trough. Dey had to eat with a wooden spoon. De
+trough and de food was clean and always plenty of it, and we stood up to
+eat. We went to bed soon after supper durin' de week for dat's 'bout all
+we feel like doin' after workin' twelve hours. We slep' in wooden beds
+what had corded rope mattresses.
+
+"We had to learn de best way we could, 'cause dere was no schools. We
+had church out in de woods. I didn' see no money till after de
+surrender. Guess we didn' need any, 'cause dey give us food and clothes
+and tobacco. We didn' have to buy nothin'. I had broadcloth clothes, a
+blue jean overcoat and good shoes and boots.
+
+"De niggers had heap better times dan now. Now we work all time and
+can't git nothin'. Sat'day night we would have parties and dance and
+play ring plays. We had de parties dere in a big double log house. Dey
+would give us whiskey and wine and cherry brandy, but dere wasn' no
+shootin' or gamblin'. Dey didn' 'low it. De men and women didn' do like
+dey do now. If dey had such carryin's on as dey do now, de white folks
+would have whipped 'em good.
+
+"I 'member dat war and I sees dem cannons and hears 'em. I toted water
+for de soldiers what fought at de Battle of Mansfield. Master Ingram had
+350 slaves when de war was over but he didn' turn us loose till a year
+after surrender. He telled us dat de gov'ment goin' to give us 40 acres
+of land and a pair of mules, but we didn' git nothin'. After Master
+Ingram turn us loose, pappy bought a place at De Berry, Texas, and I
+live with him till after I was grown. Den I marry and move to Louisiana.
+I come back to Texas two years ago and lived with my friends here ever
+since. My wife died 18 years ago and I had a hard time 'cause I don'
+have no folks, but I's managed to git someone to let me work for
+somethin' to eat, a few clothes and a place to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+420047
+
+
+[Illustration: Carter J. Jackson]
+
+
+     CARTER J. JACKSON, 85, was born in Montgomery, Alabama, a slave of
+     Parson Dick Rogers. In 1863 the Rogers family brought Carter to
+     Texas and he worked for them as a slave until four years after
+     emancipation. Carter was with his master's son, Dick, when he was
+     killed at Pittsburg, Pa. Carter married and moved to Tatum in 1871.
+
+
+"If you's wants to know 'bout slavery time, it was Hell. I's born in
+Montgomery, over yonder in Alabama. My pappy named Charles and come from
+Florida and mammy named Charlotte and her from Tennessee. They was sold
+to Parson Rogers and brung to Alabama by him. I had seven brothers call
+Frank and Benjamin and Richardson and Anderson and Miles, Emanuel and
+Gill, and three sisters call Milanda, Evaline and Sallie, but I don't
+know if any of 'em are livin' now.
+
+"Parson Rogers come to Texas in '63 and brung 'bout 42 slaves and my
+first work was to tote water in the field. Parson lived in a good, big
+frame house, and the niggers lived in log houses what had dirt floors
+and chimneys, and our bunks had rope slats and grass mattress. I sho'
+wish I could have cotch myself sleepin' on a feather bed them days. I
+wouldn't woke up till Kingdom Come.
+
+"We et vegetables and meat and ash cake. You could knock you mammy in
+the head, eatin' that ash cake bread. I ain't been fit since. We had
+hominy cooked in the fireplace in big pots that ain't bad to talk 'bout.
+Deer was thick them days and we sot up sharp stobs inside the pea field
+and them young bucks jumps over the fence and stabs themselves. That the
+only way to cotch them, 'cause they so wild you couldn't git a fair shot
+with a rifle.
+
+"Massa Rogers had a 300 acre plantation and 200 in cultivation and he
+had a overseer and Steve O'Neal was the nigger driver. The horn to git
+up blowed 'bout four o'clock and if we didn't fall out right now, the
+overseer was in after us. He tied us up every which way and whip us, and
+at night he walk the quarters to keep us from runnin' 'round. On Sunday
+mornin' the overseer come 'round to each nigger cabin with a big sack of
+shorts and give us 'nough to make bread for one day.
+
+"I used to steal some chickens, 'cause we didn't have 'nough to eat, and
+I don' think I done wrong, 'cause the place was full of 'em. We sho'
+earned what we et. I'd go up to the big house to make fires and lots of
+times I seed the mantel board lined with greenbacks, 'tween mantel and
+wall and I's snitched many a $50.00 bill, but it 'federate money.
+
+"Me and four of her chillen standin' by when mammy's sold for $500.00.
+Cryin' didn't stop 'em from sellin' our mammy 'way from us.
+
+"I 'member the war was tough and I went 'long with young massa Dick when
+he went to the war, to wait on him. I's standin' clost by when he was
+kilt under a big tree in Pittsburg, and 'fore he die he ask Wes Tatum,
+one the neighbor boys from home, to take care of me and return me to
+Massa George.
+
+"I worked on for Massa Rogers four year after that, jus' like in slavery
+time, and one day he call us and say we can go or stay. So I goes with
+my pappy and lives with him till 1871. Then I marries and works on the
+railroad when it's builded from Longview to Big Sandy, 'bout 1872. I
+works there sev'ral years and I raises seven chillen. After I quits the
+railroad I works wherever I can, on farms or in town.
+
+
+
+
+420092
+
+
+[Illustration: James Jackson]
+
+
+     JAMES JACKSON, 87, was born a slave to the Alexander family, in
+     Caddo Parish, La. When he was about two, his master moved to Travis
+     County, Texas. A short time later he and his two brothers were
+     stolen and sold to Dr. Duvall, in Bastrop Co., Texas. He worked
+     around Austin till he married, when he moved to Taylor and then to
+     Kaufman. In 1929 he went to Fort Worth where he has lived ever
+     since.
+
+
+"I was bo'n at Caddo Parish, dats in Louisiana, on de Doc Alexander
+plantation. My mother says I was bo'n on de 18th day of December, in de
+year of 1850. I guess dat's right, 'cause I's 87 years ole dis comin'
+December.
+
+"Jus' 'bout dat time dey started shippin' de darkies to Texas. My
+marster moved to Travis County, Texas, and tuk all his slaves wid him. I
+was too young to 'member, but my mother, she told me 'bout it.
+
+"It wasn' long after we was on Marster Alexander's new place in Travis
+County, till one night a man rode up on a hoss and stole me and my two
+brothers and rode away wid us. He tuk us to Bastrop County and sold us
+to Doc Duvall. Marster Duvall sold my brother right after he bought us,
+but me and John, we stayed wid him till de slaves was freed.
+
+"On Marster Duvall's plantation de slaves all lived in log cabins back
+of de big house. Dey was one room, two rooms and three room cabins,
+dependin' on de size of de family. Most had dirt floors, but some of 'em
+had log slabs. We had dese ole wooden beds wid a rope stretch 'cross de
+bottom and a mattress of straw or cotton dat de niggers got in de fiel'.
+We had lots to eat, like biscuit, cornbread, meat and sich stuff. Most
+times dey made coffee outta parch cornmeal. We had gardens and raised
+most of de stuff to eat.
+
+"I herds sheep and is houseboy most of de time. When I was ole enough, I
+picks cotton. I was jus' learnin' when de slaves was freed. Marster
+Duvall had over 500 acres in cotton and he kep' us in de fiel' all de
+time, 'cept Saturday afternoon and Sunday.
+
+"Dey had meetin' and dances Saturday nights. I was too young to 'member
+jus' what de songs was, but dey had a fiddle and played all night long.
+On ever' Sunday de niggers went to Church in de evenin'. Dey had a white
+preacher in de mornin' and a cullud preacher in de evenin'.
+
+"Marster Duvall would whip de niggers who was disobedience and he jus'
+call dem up and ask dem what was de trouble, den he would whip dem wid a
+cowhide or a rope whip. We could go anywhere iffen we had a pass, but if
+we didn' de paddlerollers would ketch us. They was kinda like policemen
+we got today.
+
+"In slavery, dey traded and sold niggers like dey do hosses and mules.
+Dey carry dem to de court house and put dem on de block and auction 'em
+off. Some sold for roun' $3,000. It was hard to sell one wid scars on
+him, 'cause nobody wanted him. I seen 'em come by in droves, all chained
+together.
+
+"When de slaves was free dey was sho' happy. Dey all got together and
+had a kin' of cel'bration. Marster told dem if dey wanted to stay and
+help make de crop, he'd give 'em 50 cents a day and a place to stay.
+Some tuk him up on dat and stayed, but a lot of dem left dere. Me and my
+brother, we started walkin' to Austin. In Austin we finds our mother,
+she was working for Judge Paschal. She hires us out to one place and den
+another.
+
+"Since freedom I done most everything anybody could do. I been porter
+and waiter in hotels and rest'rants. I been factory hand, and worked for
+carpenters and in de roun' house. I picked cotton and worked on de farm.
+
+"I been married 61 years. I gits married at home, like civilize folks
+do. I raised a big family, 12 chillen, but only five is alive today. I
+moved here in 1929 and looks like I's here till I die.
+
+
+
+
+420188
+
+
+     MAGGIE JACKSON was born a slave of the Sam Oliver family, in Cass
+     Co., Texas, near Douglasville. She is about 80 years old and her
+     memory is not very good, so her story gives few details. She lives
+     with her daughter near Douglasville, on highway #8.
+
+
+"I am about 80 years old and was a chile during slavery times. My papa's
+name was Tom Spencer Hall and my mama's name was Margaret Hall. My
+brothers and sisters was Maria and Barbara and Alice and Octavia and
+Andrew and Thomas and Hillary and Eugenia and Silas and Thomas. We was a
+big fam'ly.
+
+"My mama was Sam Oliver's slave, but my papa lived a mile away with
+Masta Sam Carlow. We lived in box houses and slep' on wood beds and we
+et co'nbread and peas and grits and lots of rabbits and 'possums. Mama
+cooked it on the fireplace.
+
+"Masta Sam's house was big and had six big rooms with a hall through the
+middle and the kitchen sot way off in the ya'd and had a big cellar
+under it. Masta Sam had a big orchard and put apples and pears in the
+cellar for the winter. My brothers use' to slip under there and steal
+them and mama'd whip 'em.
+
+"The big house set 'mong big oak trees and the slaves houses was
+scattered roun' the back. Masta Sam had a ole cowhorn he use' to blow
+for the niggers to come outta the fiel'.
+
+"Mos' all us chillen wen' fishin' on Saturday and we'd fish with pins.
+One day I slipped off and caught a whole string of fish.
+
+"We learned to read and write and we wen' to church with the white
+folks. Masta Sam was good to us and gave us plenty food and clothes.
+
+"I never was 'fraid of haints and I never see none, but I know some seen
+'em.
+
+"I married John Jackson in a white muslin dress and we was married by
+Dan Sherman, a cullud preacher from Jefferson. I married John 'cause I
+loved him and we didn' fuss and fight. I has five chillen and five
+grandchillen.
+
+
+
+
+420083
+
+
+[Illustration: Martin Jackson (A)]
+
+[Illustration: Martin Jackson (B)]
+
+
+     MARTIN JACKSON, who calls himself a "black Texan", well deserves to
+     select a title of more distinction, for it is quite possible that
+     he is the only living former slave who served in both the Civil War
+     and the World War. He was born in bondage in Victoria Co., Texas,
+     in 1847, the property of Alvy Fitzpatrick. This self-respecting
+     Negro is totally blind, and when a person touches him on the arm to
+     guide him he becomes bewildered and asks his helper to give verbal
+     directions, up, down, right or left. It may be he has been on his
+     own so long that he cannot, at this late date, readjust himself to
+     the touch of a helping hand. His mind is uncommonly clear and he
+     speaks with no Negro colloquialisms and almost no dialect.
+
+
+Following directions as to where to find Martin Jackson, "the most
+remarkable Negro in San Antonio," a researcher made his way to an old
+frame house at 419 Center St., walked up the steps and through the house
+to an open door of a rear room. There, on an iron bed, lay a long, thin
+Negro, smoking a cigarette. He was dressed in a woolen undershirt and
+black trousers and his beard and mustache were trimmed much after the
+fashion of white gallants of the Gay Nineties. His head was remarkably
+well-shaped, with striking eminences in his forehead over his brows.
+
+After a moment the intruder spoke and announced his mission. The old
+Negro, who is stone blind, quickly admitted that he was Martin Jackson,
+but before making any further comment he carried on an efficient
+interview himself; he wanted to know who the caller was, who had
+directed the visit, and just what branch of the Federal service happened
+to be interested in the days of slavery. These questions satisfactorily
+answered, he went into his adventures and experiences, embellishing the
+highlights with uncommon discernment and very little prodding by the
+researcher.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I have about 85 years of good memory to call on. I'm ninety, and so I'm
+not counting my first five years of life. I'll try to give you as clear
+a picture as I can. If you want to give me a copy of what you are going
+to write, I'll appreciate it. Maybe some of my children would like to
+have it.
+
+"I was here in Texas when the Civil War was first talked about. I was
+here when the War started and followed my young master into it with the
+First Texas Cavalry. I was here during reconstruction, after the War. I
+was here during the European World War and the second week after the
+United States declared war on Germany I enlisted as cook at Camp Leon
+Springs.
+
+"This sounds as if I liked the war racket. But, as a matter of fact, I
+never wore a uniform--grey coat or khaki coat--or carried a gun, unless
+it happened to be one worth saving after some Confederate soldier got
+shot. I was official lugger-in of men that got wounded, and might have
+been called a Red Cross worker if we had had such a corps connected with
+our company. My father was head cook for the battalion and between times
+I helped him out with the mess. There was some difference in the food
+served to soldiers in 1861 and 1917!
+
+"Just what my feelings was about the War, I have never been able to
+figure out myself. I knew the Yanks were going to win, from the
+beginning. I wanted them to win and lick us Southerners, but I hoped
+they was going to do it without wiping out our company. I'll come back
+to that in a minute. As I said, our company was the First Texas Cavalry.
+Col. Buchell was our commander. He was a full-blooded German and as fine
+a man and a soldier as you ever saw. He was killed at the Battle of
+Marshall and died in my arms. You may also be interested to know that my
+old master, Alvy Fitzpatrick, was the grandfather of Governor Jim
+Ferguson.
+
+"Lots of old slaves closes the door before they tell the truth about
+their days of slavery. When the door is open, they tell how kind their
+masters was and how rosy it all was. You can't blame them for this,
+because they had plenty of early discipline, making them cautious about
+saying anything uncomplimentary about their masters. I, myself, was in a
+little different position than most slaves and, as a consequence, have
+no grudges or resentment. However, I can tell you the life of the
+average slave was not rosy. They were dealt out plenty of cruel
+suffering.
+
+"Even with my good treatment, I spent most of my time planning and
+thinking of running away. I could have done it easy, but my old father
+used to say, 'No use running from bad to worse, hunting better.' Lots of
+colored boys did escape and joined the Union army, and there are plenty
+of them drawing a pension today. My father was always counseling me. He
+said, 'Every man has to serve God under his own vine and fig tree.' He
+kept pointing out that the War wasn't going to last forever, but that
+our forever was going to be spent living among the Southeners, after
+they got licked. He'd cite examples of how the whites would stand
+flatfooted and fight for the blacks the same as for members of their own
+family. I knew that all was true, but still I rebelled, from inside of
+me. I think I really was afraid to run away, because I thought my
+conscience would haunt me. My father knew I felt this way and he'd rub
+my fears in deeper. One of his remarks still rings in my ears: 'A clear
+conscience opens bowels, and when you have a guilty soul it ties you up
+and death will not for long desert you.'
+
+"No, sir, I haven't had any education. I should have had one, though. My
+old missus was sorry, after the War, that she didn't teach me. Her name,
+before she married my old master, was Mrs. Long. She lived in New York
+City and had three sons. When my old master's wife died, he wrote up to
+a friend of his in New York, a very prominent merchant named C.C.
+Stewart. He told this friend he wanted a wife and gave him
+specifications for one. Well, Mrs. Long, whose husband had died, fitted
+the bill and she was sent down to Texas. She became Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
+She wasn't the grandmother of Governor Ferguson. Old Fitzpatrick had two
+wives that preceded Mrs. Long. One of the wives had a daughter named
+Fanny Fitzpatrick and it was her that was the Texas' governor's mother.
+I seem to have the complicated family tree of my old master more clear
+than I've got my own, although mine can be put in a nutshell: I married
+only once and was blessed in it with 45 years of devotion. I had 13
+children and a big crop of grandchildren.
+
+"My earliest recollection is the day my old boss presented me to his
+son, Joe, as his property. I was about five years old and my new master
+was only two.
+
+"It was in the Battle of Marshall, in Louisiana, that Col. Buchell got
+shot. I was about three miles from the front, where I had pitched up a
+kind of first-aid station. I was all alone there. I watched the whole
+thing. I could hear the shooting and see the firing. I remember standing
+there and thinking the South didn't have a chance. All of a sudden I
+heard someone call. It was a soldier, who was half carrying Col. Buchell
+in. I didn't do nothing for the Colonel. He was too far gone. I just
+held him comfortable, and that was the position he was in when he
+stopped breathing. That was the worst hurt I got when anybody died. He
+was a friend of mine. He had had a lot of soldiering before and fought
+in the Indian War.
+
+"Well, the Battle of Marshall broke the back of the Texas Cavalry. We
+began straggling back towards New Orleans, and by that time the War was
+over. The soldiers began to scatter. They was a sorry-lookin' bunch of
+lost sheep. They didn't know where to go, but most of 'em ended up
+pretty close to the towns they started from. They was like homing
+pigeons, with only the instinct to go home and, yet, most of them had no
+homes to go to.
+
+"No, sir, I never went into books. I used to handle a big dictionary
+three times a day, but it was only to put it on a chair so my young
+master could sit up higher at the table. I never went to school. I
+learned to talk pretty good by associating with my masters in their big
+house.
+
+"We lived on a ranch of about 1,000 acres close to the Jackson County
+line in Victoria County, about 125 miles from San Antonio. Just before
+the war ended they sold the ranch, slaves and all, and the family, not
+away fighting, moved to Galveston. Of course, my father and me wasn't
+sold with the other blacks, because we was away at war. My mother was
+drowned years before when I was a little boy. I only remember her after
+she was dead. I can take you to the spot in the river today where she
+was drowned. She drowned herself. I never knew the reason behind it, but
+it was said she started to lose her mind and preferred death to that."
+
+At this point in the old Negro's narrative the sound of someone singing
+was heard. A moment later the door to the house slammed shut and in
+accompaniment to the tread of feet in the kitchen came this song:
+
+  "I sing because I'm happy,
+  And I sing because I'm free--
+  His eyes is on the sparrow
+  And I know He watches me."
+
+The singer glanced in the bedroom and the song ended with both
+embarrassment and anger:
+
+  "Father! Why didn't you say you had callers?"
+
+It was not long, however, before the singer, Mrs. Maggie Jackson,
+daughter-in-law of old Martin Jackson, joined in the conversation.
+
+"The master's name was usually adopted by a slave after he was set free.
+This was done more because it was the logical thing to do and the
+easiest way to be identified than it was through affection for the
+master. Also, the government seemed to be in a almighty hurry to have us
+get names. We had to register as someone, so we could be citizens. Well,
+I got to thinking about all us slaves that was going to take the name
+Fitzpatrick. I made up my mind I'd find me a different one. One of my
+grandfathers in Africa was called Jeaceo, and so I decided to be
+Jackson."
+
+After this clear-headed Negro had posed for his photograph, the
+researcher took his leave and the old blind man bade him a gracious
+"good-bye." He stood as if watching his new friend walking away, and
+then lighted a cigarette.
+
+"How long have you been smoking, Martin?" called back the researcher.
+
+"I picked up the deadly habit," answered Martin, "over seventy-five
+years ago."
+
+
+
+
+420137
+
+
+     NANCY JACKSON, about 105 years old, was born in Madison Co.,
+     Tennessee, a slave of the Griff Lacy family. She was married during
+     slavery and was the mother of three children when she was freed. In
+     1835, Nancy claims, she was brought to Texas by her owner, and has
+     lived in Panola Co. all her life. She has no proof of her age and,
+     of course, may be in the late nineties instead of over one hundred,
+     as she thinks. She lives with her daughter about five miles west of
+     Tatum, Tex.
+
+
+"I's live in Panola County now going on 102 year and that a mighty long
+time for to 'member back, but I'll try to rec'lect. I's born in
+Tennessee and I think it's in 1830 or 1832. I lives with my baby chile
+what am now 57 year old and she's born when I's 'bout 'bout 33. But I
+ain't sho' 'bout my age, noways.
+
+"Massa Griff fetches us to Texas when I a baby and my brudders what am
+Redic and Anthony and Essex and Allen and Brick and my sisters what am
+Ann and Matty and Charlotte, we all come to Texas. Mammy come with us
+but pappy was sold off the Lacy place and stays in Tennessee.
+
+"Massa had the bigges' house in them parts and a passel of slaves.
+Mammy's name was Letha, and we have a purty good place to live and massa
+not bad to us. We was treated fair, I guesses, but they allus whipped us
+niggers for somethin'. But when we got sick they'd git the doctor,
+'cause losin' a nigger like losin' a pile of money in them days.
+
+"Massa sometimes outlines the Bible to us and we had a song what we'd
+sing sometimes:
+
+  "'Stand your storm, Stand your storm,
+  Till the wind blows over,
+  Stand your storm, Stand your storm,
+  I's a sojer of the Cross,
+  A follower of the Lamb.'
+
+"We was woke by a bell and called to eat by a bell and put to bed by
+that bell and if that bell ring outta time you'd see the niggers jumpin'
+rail fences and cotton rows like deers or something, gettin' to that
+house, 'cause that mean something bad wrong at massa's house.
+
+"I marries right here in Panola County while slavery still here and my
+brother-in-law marries me and Lewis Blakely, and I's 'bout nineteen. My
+husban' 'longed to the Blakely's and after the weddin' he had to go back
+to them and they 'lowed him come to see me once a week on Saturday and
+he could stay till Sunday. I works on for the Lacy's more'n a year after
+slavery till Lewis come got me and we moved to ourselves.
+
+"I 'member one big time we done have in slavery. Massa gone and he
+wasn't gone. He left the house 'tendin' go on a visit and missy and her
+chillen gone and us niggers give a big ball the night they all gone. The
+leader of that ball had on massa's boots and he sing a song he make up:
+
+  "'Ole massa's gone to Philiman York
+  And won't be back till July 4th to come;
+  Fac' is, I don't know he'll be back at all,
+  Come on all you niggers and jine this ball.'
+
+"That night they done give that big ball, massa had blacked up and slip
+back in the house and while they singin' and dancin', he sittin' by the
+fireplace all the time. 'Rectly he spit, and the nigger who had on he
+boots recernizes him and tries climb up the chimmey."
+
+
+
+
+420259
+
+
+[Illustration: Richard Jackson]
+
+
+     RICHARD JACKSON, Harrison County farmer, was born in 1859, a slave
+     of Watt Rosborough. Richard's family left the Rosboroughs when the
+     Negroes were freed, and moved to a farm near Woodlawn. Richard
+     married when he was twenty-five and moved to an adjoining farm,
+     which he now owns.
+
+
+"I was born on the Rosborough plantation in 1859 and 'longed to old man
+Watt Rosborough. He brung my mammy out of North Carolina, but my pappy
+died when I was a baby, and mammy married Will Jackson. Besides me they
+was six brothers, Jack and Nathan, Josh and Bill and Ben and Mose. I had
+three sisters named Matilda and Charity and Anna.
+
+"I 'members my mammy's father, Jack, but don't know where he come from.
+I heared him tell of fightin' the Indians on the frontier, and one
+mammy's brothers was shot with a Indian arrow.
+
+"The plantation jined the Sabine river and old man Watt owned many a
+slave. The old home is still standin' cross the road from Rosborough
+Springs, nine miles south of Marshall.
+
+"They was a white overseer on the place and mammy's stepdaddy, Kit, was
+niggerdriver and done all the whippin', 'cept of mammy. She was bad
+'bout fightin' and the overseer allus tended to her. One day he come to
+the quarters to whip her and she up and throwed a shovel full of live
+coals from the fireplace in his bosom and run out the door. He run her
+all over the place 'fore he cotched her. I seed the overseer tie her
+down and whip her. The niggers wasn't whipped much 'cept for fightin'
+'mongst themselves.
+
+"I 'members mammy allus sayin' the darkies had to pray out in the woods,
+'cause they ain't 'lowed to make no fuss round the house. She say they
+was fed and clothed well 'nough, but the overseer worked the lights out
+of the darkies. I wasn't big 'nough to do field work, but 'member goin'
+to the field to take mammy's pipe to her. They wasn't no matches in them
+days, and I allus took fire from the house and sot a stump afire in the
+field, so mammy could light her pipe.
+
+"None of our folks larnt to read and write till after slavery. My oldes'
+brother was larnin' to read on the sly, but the overseer found out 'bout
+it and stopped him. He found some letters writ on the wall of the
+quarter with charcoal and made the darkies tell him who writ it. My
+brother Jack done it. The overseer didn't whip him, but told him he
+darns't do it 'gain.
+
+"After surrender my folks left the Rosboroughs right straight and moved
+clost to Woodlawn. My oldes' hired out in Shreveport. When they asks him
+what he's worth, he told them he didn't know, but he was allus worth a
+heap of money when anyone wanted to buy him from the Rosboroughs.
+
+"The Ku Kluxers come to our house in Woodlawn, and I got scart and
+crawled under the bed. They told mammy they wasn't gwine hurt her, but
+jus' wanted water to drink. They didn't call each other by names. When
+the head man spoke to any of them he'd say, Number 1, or Number 2, and
+like that.
+
+"I thunk I heared ghosts on the Driscoll place once, up in the loft of
+the house. I heared them plain as day. My step-pa done die there and
+might of been his ghost. We moved away right straight, and old man
+Driscoll had to burn that house down after that, 'cause wouldn't none
+the darkies live in it.
+
+"The only time I voted was when they put whiskey out. I heared a white
+man one time in Marshall, makin' a speech on the square. He said he was
+gwine tell us darkies why they didn't low us to vote. He didn't tell us,
+'cause the law come out and made him git out the wagon and leave.
+
+"This young race is sho' livin' fast, but I guess they's all right.
+Things is jes' different now to when I was a boy. When I was a boy,
+folks didn't mind helpin' one 'nother, but now they is in too big a
+hurry to pay you any mind.
+
+
+
+
+420016
+
+
+[Illustration: John James]
+
+
+     JOHN JAMES, 78, was born a slave to John Chapman, on a large
+     plantation in East Baton Rouge Parish, Louisiana. John took the
+     name of his father, who was owned by John James. John and his
+     mother stayed with Mr. Chapman for six years after they were freed,
+     then John went to Missouri, where he worked for the M. K. & T.
+     Railroad for twenty years. He then came to Texas, and now lives at
+     315 S. Jennings Ave., in Fort Worth.
+
+
+"I doesn't have so much mind for slavery days, 'cause I's too young
+then, but I 'members when surrender come and some befo' dat. I 'members
+my mammy lef' me in de nursery with all de other cullud babies when she
+go work in de field. De old nurse, Jane, tooks care of us.
+
+"Dat were de big place what Massa John have and dere 'bout fifty cullud
+families on de place, so it am more'n a hunerd slaves what he own. I's
+runnin' round, like kids am allus doin', first one place, den t'other,
+watchin' everything. De big bell ring in de mornin' and you'd see all de
+cullud folks comin' from dey cabins, gwineter de kitchen to breakfast.
+Dat allus befo' daybreak, and dey have to eat by de light of de pine
+torch. It am de pineknot torch. De meals am all cooked dere and dey eat
+at long tables. De young'uns from six to ten year eats at de second
+table and little'r den dat, in de nursery.
+
+"I sho' 'members 'bout dat nursery feedin'. I never forgits how dat
+cornmeal mush and milk am served in de big pans. Dey gives we uns de
+wooden spoon and we'uns crowds round de pans like little pigs. I can see
+it now. Us push and shove and de nurse walk here and dere, tryin' to
+make us eat like humans. She have to cuff one of us once in a while. If
+she don't, dem kids be in de pans with both feet. When dey done eatin',
+dey faces am all smear with mush and milk.
+
+"Massa allus feed plenty rations, only after war starts de old folks say
+dey am short of dis and dat, 'cause dem sojers done took it for de army.
+
+"After breakfast I'd see a crew go here and a crew go dere. Some of 'em
+spin and weave and make clothes, and some tan de leather or do de
+blacksmith work, and mos' of 'em go out in de field to work. Dey works
+till dark and den come home and work round de quarters.
+
+"Dem quarters was 'bout ten by fifteen feet, each one, with a hole for
+de window dat am not dere and de floor am de ground, and de straw bunks
+for to sleep on. In us cabin am mammy and us three chillen and our aunt.
+My pappy done die befo' I 'member him. Some kind stomach mis'ry kilt
+him.
+
+"One day Massa Chapman call all us to de front gallery. Us didn't know
+what gwine to happen, 'cause it not ord'nary to git called from de work.
+Him ring de bell and dat am sho' 'nough de liberty bell, 'cause him read
+from de long paper and say, 'You is slaves no more. You is free, jus'
+like I is, and have to 'pend on yourselves for de livin'. All what wants
+to stay I'll pay money to work, and a share of de crop, iffen you don't
+want money.' Mostest of dem stays, and some what goes gits into
+troublement, 'cause den dere's trouble 'twixt de white folks and de
+cullud folks. Some de niggers thinks they am bigger dan de white folks,
+'cause dey free, and de Klu Klux, what us call white caps, puts dem in
+de place dey 'longs.
+
+"I gits chased by dem white caps once, jus' befo' us leave massa. Dat
+am when I's 'bout thirteen year old. I's 'bout a mile off de place
+without de pass and it am de rule them days, all cullud folks must have
+de pass to show where dey 'longs and where dey gwine. I has no business
+to be off de place without de pass. 'Twas a gal.. Sho', day am it. Us
+walks down de road 'bout a mile and am settin' 'hind some bushes, off de
+plantation. Us see dem white caps comin' down de road on hossback and us
+ain't much scart, 'cause us think dey can't see us 'hind dem bushes. But
+dat leader say, 'Whoa,' and dey could look down on us, 'cause dey on
+hossback. Well, gosh for 'mighty! Dere us am and can't move den us so
+scart. One dem white caps says, 'What you doin', nigger?' 'Jus' settin'
+here,' I telt him. 'Yous better start runnin', 'cause us gwine try cotch
+you,' dey says.
+
+"Us two niggers am down dat road befo' dem words am outten he mouth. Dey
+lets de hosses canter 'hind we'uns and us try to run faster. Fin'ly us
+gits home and dat de last time I goes off without de pass.
+
+"Mammy moves to Baton Rouge soon after dat and works as de housemaid. Us
+stay dere two year and I gits some little jobs and den I goes to work
+for de railroad in Sedalia, up in Missouri, and dere I works as section
+hand for de Katy railroad for twenty year. Den I gits through and comes
+to Texas.
+
+"I works at anything till eight year ago and den I's no count for work
+so I's livin' on de pension, what am $15.00 de month.
+
+"I's never married. I jus' couldn't make de hitch. Dem what I wants,
+don't want me. Dem what wants me, I don't want, so dere am never no
+agreement.
+
+"No, I's never voted, 'cause I done heared 'bout de trouble dey has over
+in Baton Rouge 'bout niggers votin'. I jus' don't like trouble, and for
+de few years what am left, I's gwine keep de record of stayin' 'way from
+it.
+
+
+
+
+420190
+
+
+     THOMAS JOHNS, 508 Knopp St., Cleburne, Texas, was born April 18,
+     1847, in Chambers Co., Alabama. He belonged to Col. Robert Johns,
+     who had come to Alabama from Virginia. After Johns was freed he
+     stayed with his old owner's family until 1874, when he moved to
+     Texas.
+
+
+"My father's name was George and my mother's name was Nellie. My father
+was born in Africa. Him and two of his brothers and one sister was stole
+and brought to Savannah, Georgia, and sold. Dey was de chillen of a
+chief of de Kiochi tribe. De way dey was stole, dey was asked to a dance
+on a ship which some white man had, and my aunt said it was early in de
+mornin' when dey foun' dey was away from de land, and all dey could see
+was de water all 'round. She said they was members of de file-tooth
+tribe of niggers. My father's teeth was so dat only de front ones met
+together when he closed his mouth. De back ones didn' set together. W'en
+his front teeth was together, de back ones was apart, sorta like a V on
+its side.
+
+"My mother was born a slave in Virginia. She married there and had a
+little girl, and they was sold away from the husband and brought to
+Alabama. She said her mother was part Indian and part nigger. Her father
+was part white and part nigger, but he look about as white as a white
+man.
+
+"My brother's names was John, Jake and Dave. My sister's names was Ann,
+Katie, Judie and Easter.
+
+"I belonged to Col. Robert Johns. He owned 30 or 35 slaves. We was well
+treated and had the same food the white folks did, and didn' none of us
+go hongry. Col. Johns didn' have his niggers whipped, neither.
+
+"Marster's place had 500 acres in it. We raised cotton, corn and rice,
+vegetables and every sort of fruit that would grow there, a lot of it
+growin' wild. We et mostly hog meat, but we had some beef and mutton,
+too. When we'd kill a beef, we'd send some to all the neighbors.
+
+"We done a good day's work, but didn' have to work after night 'less it
+was necessary. We was allowed to stop at 12 o'clock and have time for
+rest 'fore goin' back to work. Other slave owners roun' our place wasn't
+as good to dere slaves, would work 'em hard and half starve 'em. And
+some marsters or overseers would whip dere niggers pretty hard,
+sometimes whip 'em to death. Marster Johns didn' have no overseer. He
+seed to the work and my father was foreman. For awhile after old Marster
+died, in 1862 or 1863, I forget which now, we had a overseer, John
+Sewell. He was mean. He whipped the chillen and my mother told Miss
+Lucy, old marster's oldest girl.
+
+"We was allus well treated by old marster. We was called, 'John's free
+niggers,' not dat we was free, but 'cause we was well treated. Jesse
+Todd, his place joined ours, had 500 slaves, and he treated 'em mighty
+bad. He whipped some of 'em to death. A man sold him two big niggers
+which was brothers and they was so near white you couldn' hardly tell
+'em from a white man. Some people thought the man what sold 'em was
+their daddy. The two niggers worked good and dey hadn' never been
+whipped and dey wouldn' stand for bein' whipped. One mornin' Todd come
+up to 'em and told de oldest to take his shirt off. He say, 'Marster,
+what you wan' me to take my shirt off for?' Todd say, 'I told you to
+take your shirt off.' De nigger say, 'Marster, I ain' never took my
+shirt off for no man.' Todd run in de house and got his gun and come
+back and shot de nigger dead. His brother fell down by him where he lay
+on de groun'. Todd run back to load his gun again, it bein' a single
+shot. Todd's wife and son grabbed him and dey had all dey coul' do to
+keep him from comin' out and killin' de other nigger.
+
+"Marse Johns had 12 chillen. De house dey lived in was Colonyal style
+and had 12 rooms. I was bo'n in dat house.
+
+"De slaves had log cabins. We wore some cotton clothes in de summer but
+in de winter we wore wool clothes. We allus had shoes. A shoemaker would
+come 'round once a year and stay maybe 30 days, makin' shoes for
+everybody on de place; den in about 6 months he would come back and
+half-sole and make other repairs to de shoes. We made all our clothes on
+de place. We wove light wool cloth for summer and heavy for winter.
+
+"I could take raw cotton and card and spin it on a spinnin' wheel into
+thread, fine enough to be sewed with a needle. We woun' de thread on a
+broche, make like and 'bout de size of a ice pick. De thread was den
+woun' on a reel 'bout de size of a forewheel of a wagon, and de reel
+would turn 48 times and den 'cluck'. Dat was for dem to be able to tell
+we was workin'.
+
+"Dere was plenty wild game, possums, rabbits, turkey and so on. Dere was
+fish, too, in de creek. I was de leader of de bunch. We would ketch
+little fish in de creek. We'd cook a lot of fish and den we'd put a rag
+rug in de yard under a big mulberry tree and pour de fish out on dat and
+den eat 'em.
+
+"Old marster never beat his slaves and he didn' sell 'em. But some of de
+owners did. If a owner had a big woman slave and she had a little man
+for her husban' and de owner had a big man slave, dey would make de
+little husban' leave, and make de woman let de big man be her husban',
+so's dere be big chillen, which dey could sell well. If de man and woman
+refused, dey'd get whipped.
+
+"Course whippin' made a slave hard to sell, maybe couldn' be sold,
+'cause when a man went to buy a slave he would make him strip naked and
+look him over for whip marks and other blemish, jus' like dey would a
+horse. But even if it done damage to de sale to whip him, dey done it,
+'cause dey figgered, kill a nigger, breed another--kill a mule, buy
+another.
+
+"I'll never forget de rice patch. It shore got me some whippin's, 'cause
+my daddy tell me to watch de birds 'way from dat rice, and sometimes
+dey'd get to it. It jus' seem like de blackbirds jus' set 'round and
+watched for dat rice to grow up where dey could get it. We would cut a
+block off a pine tree and build a fire on it and burn it out. Den we
+would cut down into it and scrape out all de char, and den put de rice
+in dere and beat and poun' it with a pestle till we had all de grain
+beat out de heads. Den we'd pour de rice out on a cloth and de chaff and
+trash would blow away.
+
+"Our marster he drilled men for de army. De drill groun' was 'bout a
+mile from our place. He was a dead shot with a rifle and had a rifle
+with an extry long barrel.
+
+"De Yankees told us niggers when dey freed us after de war dat dey would
+give each one of us 40 acres of land and a mule. De nearest I'se ever
+come to dat is de pension of 'leven dollars I gets now. But I'se jus' as
+thankful for dat as I can be. In fac', I don't see how I could be any
+more thankful it 'twas a hun'erd and 'leven dollars.
+
+"A man told me a nigger woman told his wife she would ruther be slave
+than free. Well, I think, but I might be wrong, anybody which says that
+is tellin a lie. Dere is sumpin' 'bout bein' free and dat makes up for
+all de hardships. I'se been both slave and free and I knows. Course,
+while I was slave I didn' have no 'sponsibility, didn' have to worry
+'bout where sumpin' to eat and wear and a place to sleep was comin'
+from, but dat don't make up for bein' free.
+
+
+
+
+420191
+
+
+     AUNTIE THOMAS JOHNS, 508 Knopp St., Cleburne, Texas, was born in
+     Burleson Co., Texas, in 1864. She was only two when her mother was
+     freed, so knows nothing of slavery except stories her mother told
+     her, or that she heard her husband, Thomas Johns, tell.
+
+
+"I was two years old when my mama was set free. Her owner was Major
+Odom. He was good to his niggers, my mama said. She tol' me 'bout
+slavery times. She said other white folks roun' there called Major
+Odom's niggers, 'Odom's damn free niggers,' 'cause he was so easy on
+'em.
+
+"He was never married, but he had a nigger woman, Aunt Phyllis she was
+called, that he had some children by. She was half white. I remember her
+and him and five of their sons. The ones I knowed was nearly all white,
+but Aunt Phyllis had one boy that was nigger black. His daddy was a
+nigger man. When she was drunk or mad she'd say she thought more of her
+black chile than all the others. Major Odom treated their children jus'
+like he treated the other niggers. He never whipped none of his niggers.
+When his and Aunt Phyllis'es sons was grown they went to live in the
+quarters, which was what the place the niggers lived was called.
+
+"One of Major Odom's niggers was whipped by a man named Steve Owens. He
+got to goin' to see a nigger woman Owens owned, and one night they beat
+him up bad. Major Odom put on his gun for Owens, and they carried guns
+for each other till they died, but they never did have a shootin'.
+
+"Colonel Sims had a farm joinin' Major Odom's farm, and his niggers was
+treated mean. He had a overseer, J.B. Mullinax, I 'member him, and he
+was big and tough. He whipped a nigger man to death. He would come out
+of a mornin' and give a long, keen yell, and say, 'I'm J.B. Mullinax,
+just back from a week in Hell, where I got two new eyes, one named Snap
+and Jack, and t'other Take Hold. I'm goin' to whip two or three niggers
+to death today.' He lived a long time, but long 'fore he died his eyes
+turned backward in his head. I seen 'em thataway. He wouldn' give his
+niggers much to eat and he'd make 'em work all day, and just give 'em
+boiled peas with just water and no salt and cornbread. They'd eat their
+lunch right out in the hot sun and then go right back to work. Mama said
+she could hear them niggers bein' whipped at night and yellin', 'Pray,
+marster, pray,' beggin' him not to beat 'em.
+
+"Other niggers would run away and come to Major Odom's place and ask his
+niggers for sumpin' to eat. My mama would get word to bring 'em food and
+she'd start out to where they was hidin' and she'd hear the hounds, and
+the runaway niggers would have to go on without gettin' nothin' to eat.
+
+"My husban's tol' me about slavery times in Alabama. He said they would
+make the niggers work hard all day pickin' cotton and then take it to
+the gin and gin away into the night, maybe all night. They'd give a
+nigger on Sunday a peck of meal and three pounds of meat and no salt nor
+nothin' else, and if you et that up 'fore the week was out, you jus'
+done without anything to eat till the end of the week.
+
+"My husban' said a family named Gullendin was mighty hard on their
+niggers. He said ole Missus Gullendin, she'd take a needle and stick it
+through one of the nigger women's lower lips and pin it to the bosom of
+her dress, and the woman would go 'round all day with her head drew down
+thataway and slobberin'. There was knots on the nigger's lip where the
+needle had been stuck in it.
+
+
+
+
+420911
+
+
+[Illustration: Gus Johnson]
+
+
+     GUS JOHNSON, 90 years or more, was born a slave of Mrs. Betty
+     Glover, in Marengo Co., Alabama. Most of his memories are of his
+     later boyhood in Sunnyside, Texas. He lives in an unkempt, little
+     lean-to house, in the north end of Beaumont, Texas. There is no
+     furniture but a broken-down bed and an equally dilapidated trunk
+     and stove. Gus spends most of his time in the yard, working in his
+     vegetable garden.
+
+
+"Dey brung thirty-six of us here in a box car from Alabama. Yes, suh,
+dat's where I come from--Marengo County, not so far from 'Mopolis. Us
+belong to old missy Betty Glover and my daddy name August Glover and my
+mammy Lucinda. Old missy, she sho' treat us good and I never git whip
+for anything 'cept lyin'. Old missy, she do de whippin'.
+
+"Old missy she sho' a good woman and all her white folks, dey used to go
+to church at White Chapel at 'leven in de mornin'. Us cullud folks goes
+in de evenin'. Us never do no work on Sunday, and on Saturday after
+twelve o'clock us can go fishin' or huntin'.
+
+"Dey give de rations on Saturday and dat's 'bout five pound salt bacon
+and a peck of meal and some sorghum syrup. Dey make dat syrup on de
+plantation. Dey's ten or twelve big clay kettles in a row, sot in de
+furnace.
+
+"We have lots to eat, and if de rations run short we goes huntin' or
+fishin'. Some de old men kills rattlesnake and cook 'em like fish and
+say dey fish. I eat dat many a time and never knowed it. 'Twas good,
+too.
+
+"Dey used to have a big house where dey kep' de chillen, 'cause de
+wolves and panthers was bad. Some de mammies what suckle de chillen
+takes care of all de chillen durin' de daytime and at night dey own
+mammies come in from de field and take dem. Sometime old missy she help
+nuss and all de li'l niggers well care for. When dey gits sick dey makes
+de med'cine of herbs and well 'em dat way.
+
+"When us left Alabama us come through Meridian to Houston and den to
+Hockley and den to Sunnyside, 'bout 18 mile west of Houston. Dat a
+country with lots of woods and us sot in to clean up de ground and clean
+up 150 acres to farm on. Dere 'bout forty-seven hands and more
+'cumulates. Dey go back to Meridian for more and brung 'em in a ox cart.
+
+"My brother, Bonzane Johnson, was one dey brung on dat trip. I had
+'nother brother, Keen, what die when he 102 year old. Us was all
+long-life people, 'cause I have a gran' uncle what die when he 136 year
+old. He and my grandma and grandpa come from South Carolina and dey was
+all Africa people. I heered dem tell how dey brung from Africa in de
+ship. My daddy he die at 99 and 'nother brother at 104.
+
+"Us see lots of sojers when us come through from Meridian and dey de
+cavalry. Dey come ridin' up with high hats like beavers on dey head and
+us 'fraid of 'em, 'cause dey told us dey gwine take us to Cuba and sell
+us dere.
+
+"When us first git to Texas it was cold--not sort a cold, but I mean
+cold. I shovel de snow many a day. Dey have de big, common house and de
+white folks live upstairs and de niggers sleep on de first floor. Dat to
+'tect de white folks at night, but us have our own houses for to live in
+in de daytime, builded out of logs and daubed with mud and nail rive
+out boards over dat mud. Dey make de chimney out of sticks and mud, too
+but us have no windows, and in summer us kind of live out in de bresh
+arbor, what was cool.
+
+"Us have all kind of crops and more'n 100 acres in fruit, 'cause dey
+brung all kind trees and seeds from Alabama. Dey was undergroun' springs
+and de water was sho' good to drink, 'cause in Mobile de water wasn't
+fitten to drink. It taste like it have de lump of salt melted in it. Us
+keep de butter and milk in de spring house in dem days, 'cause us ain't
+have no ice in dem time.
+
+"Old massa, he name Adam and he brother name John, and dey was way up
+yonder tall people. Old massa die soon and us have missy to say what we
+do. All her overseers have to be good. She punish de slaves iffen day
+bad, but not whip 'em. She have de jail builded undergroun' like de
+stormcave and it have a drop door with de weight on it, so dey couldn't
+git up from de bottom. It sho' was dark in dat place.
+
+"In slavery time us better be in by eight o'clock, better be in dat
+house, better stick to dat rule. I 'member after freedom, missy have de
+big celebration on Juneteenth every year. [Handwritten Note: '?']
+
+"When war come to Texas every plantation was conscrip' for de war and my
+daddy was 'pinted to selec' de able body men offen us place for to be
+sojers. My brother Keen was one of dem. He come back all right, though.
+
+"When freedom come missy give all de men niggers $500 each, but dat
+'federate money and have pictures of hosses on it. Dat de onlies' money
+missy have den. Old missy Betty, she die in Sunnyside, Texas, when she
+115 year old.
+
+"When I's 18 year old I marry a gal by name Lucy Johnson. She dead now
+long ago. I got five livin' chillen somewhere, but I done lost track of
+'em. One of dem boys serve in de last war.
+
+"I used to hear somethin' 'bout rabbit foot. De old folks used to say
+dat iffen de rabbit have time to stop and lick he foot de dog can't
+track him no more and I allus wears de rabbit foot for good luck. I
+don't know if it brung me dat luck, though.
+
+"I been here 36 year and I work mos' de time as house mover, what I work
+at 26 year. I'll be honnes' with you, I don't know how old I is, but it
+mus' be plenty, 'cause I 'members lots 'bout de war. I didn't see no
+fightin' but I knowed what was goin' on den.
+
+"I belong to de U. B. F. Lodge, what I pays into in case I gits sick.
+But I never can git sick and I ain't have no ailment 'cept my feets jus'
+swoll up, and I can't git nothin' for that.
+
+
+
+
+420139
+
+
+     HARRY JOHNSON, 86, whose real name was Jim, was born in Missouri,
+     where he was stolen by Harry Fugot, when about twelve years old,
+     and taken to Arkansas. He was given the name of Harry and remained
+     with Fugot until near the close of the Civil War. Fugot then sold
+     him to Graham for 1,200 acres and he was brought to Coryell Co.,
+     Texas, and later to Caldwell Co. He worked in Texas two years
+     before finding out the slaves were free. He later went to McMullen
+     Co. to work cattle, but eventually spent most of his time rearing
+     ten white children. He now lives in Pearsall, where he married at
+     the age of 59.
+
+
+"I come from Missouri to Arkansas and then to Texas, and I was owned by
+Massa Louis Barker and my name was Jim Johnson. But a white man name
+Harry Fugot stoled me and run me out to Arkansas and changed my name to
+Harry. He stoled me from Mississippi County in de southern part of
+Missouri, down close to de Arkansas line, and I was 'bout 12 year old
+then.
+
+"My mama's name was Judie and her husban' name Miller. When I wasn't big
+'nough to pack a chip, old Massa Louis Barker wouldn't take $400 for me,
+'cause he say he wants to make a overseer out of me. My daddy went off
+durin' de war. He carried off by sojers and he never did come back.
+
+"Dey 'bout 30, 40 acres in Massa Barker's plantation in Missouri. He
+used to hire me out from place to place and de men what hires me puts me
+to doin' what he wanted. I was stole from my mammy when I's 'bout 10 or
+12 and she never did know what become of me.
+
+"O, my stars! I seed hun'erds and hun'erds of sojers 'fore I stole from
+Missouri. Dey what us call Yankees. I seed 'em strung out a half-mile
+long, goin' battle two and three deep. Dey never did destroy any homes.
+Dey took up a little stuff. I had five sacks of meal one day and was
+goin' to de mill and de sojers come along and taken me, meal and all. De
+maddes' woman I ever saw was dat day. De sojers come and druv off her
+cows. She told 'em not to, dat her husban' fightin' and she have to make
+de livin' off dem cows, but dey druv de cows to camp and kilt 'bout
+three of 'em. Dey done dat, I knows, 'cause I's with 'em.
+
+"But down in Arkansas I seed de southern sojers and I's plowin' for a
+old lady call Williams, and some sojers come and goes in de house. I
+heered say dey was Green's men, and dey taken everything dat old woman
+have what dey wants, and dey robs lots of houses.
+
+"It don't look reas'able to say it, but it's a fac'--durin' slavery
+iffen you lived one place and your mammy lived 'cross de street you
+couldn't go to see her without a pass. De paddlerollers would whip you
+if you did. Dere was one woman owns some slaves and one of 'em asks her
+for a pass and she give him de piece of paper sposed to be de pass, but
+she writes on it:
+
+  "'His shirt am rough and his back am tough,
+  Do, pray, Mr. Paddleroller, give 'im 'nough.'
+
+"De paddlerollers beat him nearly to death, 'cause that's what's wrote
+on de paper he give 'em.
+
+"I 'member a whippin' one slave got. It were 100 lashes. Dey's a big
+overseer right here on de San Marcos river, Clem Polk, him and he massa
+kilt 16 niggers in one day. Dat massa couldn't keep a overseer, 'cause
+de niggers wouldn't let 'em whip 'em, and dis Clem, he say, 'I'll stay
+dere,' and he finds he couldn't whip dem niggers either, so he jus'
+kilt 'em. One nigger nearly got him and would have kilt him. Dat nigger
+raise de ax to come down on Polk's head and de massa stopped him jus' in
+time, and den Polk shoots dat nigger in de breast with a shotgun.
+
+"Dey had court days and when court met, dey passed a bill what say,
+'Keep de niggers at home.' Some of 'em could go to church and some of
+'em couldn't. Dey'd let de cullud people be baptized, but dey didn't
+many want it, dey didn't understan' it 'nough.
+
+"After de war ends, Massa Fugot sells me to Massa Graham for 1,200 acres
+of land, and I lives in Caldwell County. He was purty good to he slaves
+and we live in a li'l old frame house, facin' west. I sleeps in de same
+house as massa and missus, to guard 'em. One night some men came and
+wake me up and tells me to put my clothes on. Missus was in de bed and
+she 'gin cryin' and tell 'em not to take me, but dey taken me anyway. We
+called 'em Guerrillas and dey thieves. Dey white men and one of 'em I
+had knowed a long time. I's with dem thives and hears 'em talk 'bout
+killin' Yankees. Dey kep' me in de south part of Missouri a long time. I
+didn't do anything but sit 'round de house with dem.
+
+"When I's sold to Massa Graham I didn't have to come to Texas, 'cause
+I's free, but I didn't know dat, and I's out here two years 'fore I
+knowed I's free. Down in Caldwell County is where de bondage was lifted
+offen me and I found out I's free. I jus' stays on and works and my
+massa give me he promise I's git a hoss and saddle and $100 in money
+when I's 21 year old, but he didn't do it. He give me a li'l pony and a
+saddle what I sold for $3.00 and 'bout eight or nine dollars in money.
+He had me blindfolded and I thought I gwine git a good hoss and saddle
+and more money.
+
+"I looks back sometimes and thinks times was better for eatin' in
+slavery dan what dey is now. My mammy was a reg'lar cook and she made me
+peach cobblers and apple dumplin's. In dem days, we'd take cornmeal and
+mix it with water and call 'em corn dodgers and dey awful nice with
+plenty butter. We had lots of hawg meat and when dey kilt a beef a man
+told all de neighbors to come git some of de meat.
+
+"Right after de war, times is pretty hard and I's taken beans and
+parched 'em and got 'em right brown, and meal bran to make coffee out
+of. Times was purty hard, but I allus could find somethin' to work at in
+dem days.
+
+"I lived all my life 'mong white folks and jus' worked in first one
+place and then 'nother. I raised ten white chillen, nine of de Lowe
+chillen, and dey'd mind me quicker dan dey own pappy and mammy. Dat in
+McMullin County.
+
+"De day I's married I's 59 year old and my wife is 'bout 60 year old
+now. De last 20 years I's jus' piddled 'round and done no reg'lar work.
+I married right here in de church house. I nussed my wife when she a
+baby and used to court her mammy when she's a girl. We's been real happy
+together.
+
+
+
+
+420928
+
+
+[Illustration: James D. Johnson]
+
+
+     JAMES D. JOHNSON, born Oct. 1st, 1860, at Lexington, Mississippi,
+     was a slave of Judge Drennon. He now lives with his daughter at
+     4527 Baltimore St., Dallas, Texas. His memory is poor and his
+     conversation is vague and wandering. His daughter says, "He ain't
+     at himself these days." James attended Tuckaloo University, near
+     Jackson, Mississippi, and uses very little dialect.
+
+
+"My first clear recollection is about a day when I was five years old. I
+was playing in the sand by the side of the house in Lexington with some
+other children and some Yankee soldiers came by. They came on horseback
+and they drew rein by the side of the house and I ran under the house
+and hid. My mother called to me to come out and told me they were
+Federal soldiers and I could tell it by their blue uniforms. One of the
+soldiers reached into his haversack and pulled out a uniform and gave it
+to me. 'Have your mammy make a suit out of it,' he said. Another soldier
+gave me a uniform and my mother was a seamstress in the home of the
+Drennons and she made me two suits out of those uniforms.
+
+"Judge Drennon had married the daughter of Colonel Terry and he had
+given my parents to his daughter when she married the judge. My father
+and mother both came from Virginia. Colonel Terry had bought them at
+separate times from a slave trader who brought them from Virginia to
+Mississippi. They had a likeness for each other when they learned both
+came from Virginia. Both of them had white fathers, were light
+complected and had been brought up in the big house.
+
+"When they told the Colonel they wished to marry he only said, 'Julia,
+do you take William,' and 'William, do you take Julia?' Then they were
+man and wife. He gave them the name of Johnson, which was the family
+name of my father's mother and the name of his father.
+
+"When my parents lived with Judge Drennon they had a house in the yard
+quarters. The Drennon home was the most beautiful house I ever have
+seen. It was a big, brick mansion with tall, white pillars reaching up
+to the second story. The yards and grounds were so beautiful the white
+folks used to come from long ways off to see them.
+
+"After the surrendering we lived with the Drennons four or five years.
+They paid my parents for their work and I had an easy time of it. I was
+youngest of eight children and there was ten years or more between me
+and the next older child. My mother wanted to make something special out
+of me.
+
+"I went to three different schools down in the woods before I was nine.
+White people would come and put up schools for the colored children but
+the white people in Mississippi said they were not good people and would
+criticize them. Sometimes the schools would get busted up. We studied
+out of the Blue Back speller and an arithmetic and a dictionary. I could
+spell and give the meaning of most nigh every word in that dictionary.
+
+"When I was thirteen they held an examination at Lexington for colored
+children to see who'd get a scholarship at Tuckaloo University, eight
+miles from Jackson. I was greatly surprised when I won from my county
+and I went but didn't finish there. Then I went a little while to a
+small university near Lexington, called Allcorn University. I loved to
+go to school and was considered bookish. But my people died and I had to
+earn a living for myself and I couldn't find any way to use so much what
+I learned out of books, as far as making money was concerned. So I came
+to Texas, doing any kind of labor work I could find. Finally I married
+and went to farming 35 or 40 years and raised five children.
+
+"I'm the only one left now of my brothers and sisters and it won't be
+long until I'm gone, too, but I don't mind that. We lived a long time.
+Some of it was hard and some of it was good. I tried all the time to
+live according to my lights and that is as far as I know how to do. I
+don't feel resentful of anything, anymore.
+
+"When there is sun, I just sit in the sun."
+
+
+
+
+420132
+
+
+     MARY JOHNSON does not know her age but is evidently very old.
+     Paralytic strokes have affected mind and body. Her speech, though
+     impaired, is a swift flow of words, often profane. A bitter
+     attitude toward everything is apparent. Mary is homeless and owes
+     the necessities of life to the kindness of a middle aged Negress
+     who takes care of several old women in her home in Pear Orchard, in
+     Beaumont, Texas.
+
+
+"Now, wait, white folks, I got to scratch my head so's I kin 'member.
+I's been paralyze so I can't git my tongue to speak good. It git all
+twist up.
+
+"I don't know how old I is. My daddy he have my age in the big Bible but
+he done move 'round so much it git lost long ago. He used to 'long to
+them Guinea men. Them was real small men and they sho' walk fast. He
+wasn't so tall as my mommer and he name John Allen and he a pore man,
+all bone. He sold out from the old country, that Mississippi. My mama
+name Sarah and she come from Choctaw country, 'round in Georgia. I have
+grandma Rebecca, a reg'lar old Indian woman and she have two long black
+braid longer'n her waist and she allus wore a big bonnet with splits in
+it. You know de Indian people totes they chillens on they back and my
+mommer have me wrop up in a blanket and strop on her back.
+
+"I's the firstborn chile and my mommer have two gal chillen, me and
+Hannah, and she have seven boy. Where I's born was old wild country and
+old Virginny run down thataway. Everything was plenty good to eat and I
+seed strawberries what would push you to git 'em in your mouth.
+
+"Clost to where I's born they's a place where they brung the Africy
+people to tame 'em and they have big pens where they puts 'em after
+they takes 'em outta they gun ships. They sho' was wild and they have
+hair all over jus' like a dog and big hammer rings in they noses. They
+didn't wore no clothes and sometime they git 'way and run to them swamps
+in Floridy and git all wild and hairy 'gain. They brung preachers to
+help tame 'em, but didn't 'low no preacher in them pens by hisself,
+'cause they say them preacher won't come back, 'cause some them wild
+Africy people done kill 'em and eat 'em. They done worship them snake
+bit as a rake handle, 'cause they ain't knowed no better. When they gits
+'em all tame they sells 'em for field hands, but they allus wild and
+iffen anybody come they duck and hide down.
+
+"My old missy she name Florence Walker and she reg'lar tough. I helps
+nuss her chile, Mary, and Mary make her mommer be good to me. Us wore
+li'l brass toe shoes and I call mine gold toe shoes. Them shoes hard
+'nough to knock a mule out. After young missy and me git growed us run
+off to dances and old missy beat us behind good. She say us jes' chillen
+yet and keep us in short, short dress and we pull out the stitchin' in
+them hems so us dresses drags and she sho' wore us out for that.
+
+"Did us love to dance? Jesus help me! Them country niggers swing me so
+hard us land in the corner with a wham.
+
+"My brudder Robert he a pow'ful big boy and he wasn't 'lowed to have no
+pants till he 21 year old, but that didn't 'scourage him from courtin'
+the gals. I try tease him 'bout go see the gals with dat split shirt.
+That not all, that boy nuss he mommer breast till he 21 year old. He
+have to have that nussin' real reg'lar. But one time he pesterin' mommer
+and she tryin' milk the cow and the cow git nervous and kick over the
+bucket and mommer fall off the stool and she so mad she wean him right
+there and then.
+
+"Old massa he never clean hisself up or dress up. He look like a vagrant
+thing and he and missy mean, too. My pore daddy he back allus done cut
+up from the whip and bit by the dogs. Sometime when a woman big they
+make a hollow out place for her stomach and make her lay down 'cross
+that hole and whip her behind. They sho' tear that thing up.
+
+"Us chillen git to play and us sing
+
+  "'Old possum in the holler log
+    Sing high de loo,
+  Fatter than a old green frog,
+    Sing high de loo,
+    Whar possum?
+
+"That church they have a 'markable thing. They a deep tranch what cut
+all 'round the bottom and clay steps what lead all the way to the top
+the mountain and when the niggers git to shoutin' that church jes'
+a-rollin' and rockin'. One the songs I 'member was
+
+  "'Shoo the devil out the corner,
+    Shoo, members, shoo,
+  Shoo the devil out the corner,
+    Shoo, members, shoo.'
+
+"Us li'l gals allus wore cottanade dresses ev'ry day. Them what us call
+nine-stitch dresses. Mammy make fasten-back dresses and fasten-back
+drawers and knit sweaters and socks for the mens. She git sheep wool
+what near ruint by cockle burrs and make us chillen set by the hour and
+pick out them burrs.
+
+"Us houses like chicken coops but us sho' happy in that li'l cabin
+house. Nothin' to worry 'bout. Mammy cook them grits, that yaller
+hominy. She make 'ash cat', cornbread wrop in cabbage leaf and put ashes
+'round it.
+
+"The old plantation 'bout on the line 'tween Virginny and Mis'sippi and
+us live near the Madstone. That a big stone, all smooth and when a dog
+bite you you go run 'round the Madstone and wash yourself in the hot
+springs and the bites don't hurt you.
+
+"I seed lots of sojers and my daddy fit with the Yankees and they have a
+big fight close there and have a while lots of dead bodies layin' 'round
+like so many logs and they jus' stack 'em up and sot fire to 'em. You
+seed 'em burnin' night and day. They lay down and shoot and then jump up
+and stick 'em and sometimes they drunk the blood outten where they stick
+'em, 'cause they can't git no water.
+
+"After freedom us go in ox team to New Orleans and daddy he raise cotton
+and sell it and mommer sell eggs. My daddy a workin' man and he help
+build the big custom house in New Orleans and help pull the rope to pull
+the boats up the canal from the river. That Canal Street now. He put he
+name on top that custom house and it there to this day. You can go there
+and see it. He help build the hosp'tal, too.
+
+"One time us live close to the bay and that gran' and us take a stove
+and cotch catfish and perch and cook 'em on the bank and us go meet
+oyster boats and daddy git 'em by the tub.
+
+"I git marry in Baton Rouge when I sixteen and my husban' he name Arras
+Shaw and he lots older'n me and I couldn't keep him. He in Port Arthur
+now. My husban' and I sawmill 20 year in Grayburg, here in Texas, and
+then us sep'rate. I been in Beaumont 16 year and I's rice farm cook in
+the camp on the Fannett Road. They tells me I got uncles in Africy. I
+goes to Sanctified church and that all I can do now.
+
+
+
+
+420050
+
+
+[Illustration: Mary Ellen Johnson]
+
+
+     MARY ELLEN JOHNSON, owner of a little restaurant at 1301 Marilla
+     St., Dallas, Texas, is 77 years old. She was born in slavery to the
+     Murth family, about ten miles from San Marcos, Texas. She neither
+     reads nor writes but talks with little dialect.
+
+
+"I don't know so fur back as befo' I was born, 'cept what my mammy told
+me, and she allus said little black chillen wasn't sposed to ask so many
+questions. Her name was Missouri Ellison, 'cause she belonged to Miss
+Micelder Ellison and then when she married with Mr. Murth, her daddy
+said my mammy was her 'heritance.
+
+"My first mem'ries are us playin' in the backyard with Miss Fannie and
+Miss Martha and Mr. Sammie. They was the little Murth chillen. We used
+to make playhouses out there and sweep the ground clean down to the
+level with brush brooms and dec'rate it all up with little broken
+glasses and crockery.
+
+"In them days we lived in a little, old log cabin in the backyard and
+there was just one room, but it was snug and we had a plenty of livin'.
+My mammy had a nice cotton bed and she weren't no field nigger, but my
+pappy were.
+
+"Miss Micelder had a fine farm and raised most everything we ate and the
+food nowadays ain't like what it was then. Miss Micelder had a wood
+frame house with a big kitchen and they were cookin' goin' on all the
+time. They cooked on a wood stove with iron pots and skillets, and the
+roastin' ears and chicken fried right out of your own yard is tastier
+than what you git now. Grated 'tater puddin' was my dish.
+
+"When I am seven years old I hear talk 'bout a war and the separation
+but I don't pay much 'tention. It seem far away and I don't bother my
+kinky head 'bout it. But then they tells eme [typo: me] the war is over
+and I'm goin' to be raised free and that I don't 'long to anybody but
+Gawd and my pappy and mammy, but it don't make me feel nothin', 'cause I
+ain't never know I ain't free.
+
+"After the war we removed to a house on a hill where they is five
+houses, little log houses all in a row. We had good times, but we had to
+work in the cotton and corn and wheat in the daylight time, but when the
+dusk come we used to sing and dance and play into the moonlight.
+
+"But one man called Milton, he's past his yearling boy days and he
+didn't like to see us spend our time in sin, so he'd preach to us from
+the Gospel, but I had the hardest time to get 'ligion of anybody I
+knowed. Fin'ly I got sick when I were fifteen and was in my bed and
+somethin' happened. Lawd, it was the most 'lievable thing ever happened
+to me. I was layin' there when sin formed a heavy, white veil just like
+a blanket over my bed and it just eased down over me till it was mashing
+the breath out of me. I crys out to the Lawd to save me and, sho'
+'nough, He hear the cry of a pore mis'able sinner. I ran to my mammy and
+pappy a-shoutin'.
+
+"The next year I marries and went on 'nother farm right near by and
+starts havin' chillen. I has ten and think I done rightly my part,
+'cause I lived right by the word and taught my chillen the same. I'm
+lookin' to the promise to live in Glory after my days here is done.
+
+
+
+
+420115
+
+
+[Illustration: Pauline Johnson and Felice Boudreaux]
+
+
+     PAULINE JOHNSON and FELICE BOUDREAUX, sisters, were once slaves on
+     the plantation of Dermat Martine, near Opelousas, Louisiana. As
+     their owners were French, they are more inclined to use a Creole
+     patois than English.
+
+
+"Us was both slaves on de old plantation close to Opelousas," Pauline
+began. As the elder of the two sisters she carried most of the
+conversation, although often referring to Felice before making positive
+statements.
+
+"I was 12 year old when freedom come and Felice was 'bout six. Us
+belonged to Massa Dermat Martine and the missy's name Mimi. They raise
+us both in the house and they love us so they spoil us. I never will
+forget that. The little white chillen was younger than me, 'bout
+Felice's age. They sho' had pretty li'l curly black hair.
+
+"Us didn't have hard time. Never even knowed hard time. That old massa,
+he what you call a good man.
+
+"Us daddy was Renee and he work in the field. The old massa give him a
+mud and log house and a plot of ground for he own. The rain sho' never
+get in that log house, it so tight. The furniture was homemake, but my
+daddy make it good and stout.
+
+"Us daddy he work de ground he own on Sunday and sold the things to buy
+us shoes to put on us feet and clothes. The white folks didn't give us
+clothes but they let him have all the money he made in his own plot to
+get them.
+
+"Us mama name Marguerite and she a field hand, too, so us chillen growed
+up in the white folks house mostly. 'Fore Felice get big enough to leave
+I stay in the big house and take care of her.
+
+"One day us papa fall sick in the bed, just 'fore freedom, and he kep'
+callin' for the priest. Old massa call the priest and just 'fore us papa
+die the priest marry him and my mama. 'fore dat they just married by the
+massa's word.
+
+"Felice and me, us have two brothers what was born and die in slavery,
+and one sister still livin' in Bolivar now. Us three uncles, Bruno and
+Pophrey and Zaphrey, they goes to the war. Them three dies too young.
+The Yankees stole them and make them boys fight for them.
+
+"I never done much work but wash the dishes. They wasn't poor people and
+they uses good dishes. The missy real particular 'bout us shinin' them
+dishes nice, and the silver spoons and knives, too.
+
+"Them white people was good Christian people and they christen us both
+in the old brick Catholic church in Opelousas. They done torn it down
+now. Missy give me pretty dress to get christen in. My godmother, she
+Mileen Nesaseau, but I call her 'Miran'. My godfather called 'Paran.'
+
+"On Sunday mornin' us fix our dress and hair and go up to the missy's
+looking-glass to see if us pretty enough go to church. Us goes to Mass
+every Sunday mornin' and church holiday, and when the cullud folks sick
+massa send for the priest same's for the white folks.
+
+"We wears them things on the strings round the neck for the good of the
+heart. They's nutmeg.
+
+"The plantation was a big, grand place and they have lots of orange
+trees. The slaves pick them oranges and pack then down on the barrel
+with la mosse (Spanish moss) to keep them. They was plenty pecans and
+figs, too.
+
+"In slavery time most everybody round Opelousas talk Creole. That make
+the words hard to come sometime. Us both talk that better way than
+English.
+
+"Durin' the war, it were a sight. Every mornin' Capt. Jenerette Bank and
+he men go a hoss-back drillin' in the pasture and then have drill on
+foot. A white lady take all us chillen to the drill ground every
+mornin'. Us take the lunch food in the basket and stay till they done
+drill out.
+
+"I can sing for you the song they used to sing:
+
+  "O, de Yankee come to put de nigger free,
+    Says I, says I, pas bonne;
+      In eighteen-sixty-three,
+  De Yankee get out they gun and say,
+  Hurrah! Let's put on the ball.
+
+"When war over none the slaves wants leave the plantation. My mama and
+us chillen stays on till old massa and missy dies, and then goes live on
+the old Repridim place for a time.
+
+"Both us get marry in that Catholic church in Opelousas. As for me, it
+most too long ago to talk about. His name Alfred Johnson and he dead 12
+years. Our youngest boy, John, go to the World War. Two my nephews die
+in that war and one nephew can't walk now from that war.
+
+"Felice marry Joseph Boudreaux and when he die she come here to stay
+with me. There's more hard time now than in the old day for us, but I
+hope things get better.
+
+
+
+
+420103
+
+
+[Illustration: Spence Johnson]
+
+
+     SPENCE JOHNSON was born free, a member of the Choctaw Nation, in
+     the Indian Territory, in the 1850's. He does not know his exact
+     age. He and his mother were stolen and sold at auction in
+     Shreveport to Riley Surratt, who lived near Shreveport, on the
+     Texas-Louisiana line. He has lived in Waco since 1874.
+
+
+"De nigger stealers done stole me and my mammy out'n de Choctaw Nation,
+up in de Indian Territory, when I was 'bout three years old. Brudder
+Knox, Sis Hannah, and my mammy and her two step-chillun was down on de
+river washin'. De nigger stealers driv up in a big carriage and mammy
+jus' thought nothin', 'cause the road was near dere and people goin' on
+de road stopped to water de horses and res' awhile in de shade. By'n by,
+a man coaxes de two bigges' chillun to de carriage and give dem some
+kind-a candy. Other chillun sees dis and goes, too. Two other men was
+walkin' 'round smokin' and gettin' closer to mammy all de time. When he
+kin, de man in de carriage got de two big step-chillun in with him and
+me and sis' clumb in too, to see how come. Den de man holler, 'Git de
+ole one and let's git from here.' With dat de two big men grab mammy and
+she fought and screeched and bit and cry, but dey hit her on de head
+with something and drug her in, and throwed her on de floor. De big
+chilluns begin to fight for mammy, but one of de men hit 'em hard and
+off dey driv, with de horses under whip.
+
+"Dis was near a place called Boggy Depot. Dey went down de Red Ribber,
+'cross de ribber and on down in Louisian to Shreveport. Down in Louisan
+us was put on what dey call de 'block' and sol' to de highes' bidder. My
+mammy and her three chillun brung $3,000 flat. De step chillun was sol'
+to somebody else, but us was bought by Marse Riley Surratt. He was de
+daddy of Jedge Marshall Surratt, him who got to be jedge here in Waco.
+
+"Marse Riley Surratt had a big plantation; don't know how many acres,
+but dere was a factory and gins and big houses and lots of nigger
+quarters. De house was right on de Tex-Louisan line. Mammy cooked for
+'em. When Marse Riley bought her, she couldn' speak nothin' but de
+Choctaw words. I was a baby when us lef' de Choctaw country. My sister
+looked like a full blood Choctaw Indian and she could pass for a real
+full blood Indian. Mammy's folks was all Choctaw Indians. Her sisters
+was Polly Hogan, and Sookey Hogan and she had a brudder, Nolan Tubby.
+Dey was all known in de Territory in de ole days.
+
+"Near as Marse Riley's books can come to it, I mus' of been bo'n 'round
+1859, up in de Territory.
+
+"Us run de hay press to bale cotton on de plantation and took cotton by
+ox wagons to Shreveport. Seven or eight wagons in a train, with three or
+four yoke of steers to each wagon. Us made 'lasses and cloth and shoes
+and lots of things. Old Marse Riley had a nigger who could make shoes
+and if he had to go to court in Carthage, he'd leave nigger make shoes
+for him.
+
+"De quarters was a quarter mile long, all strung out on de creek bank.
+Our cabin was nex' de big house. De white folks give big balls and had
+supper goin' all night. Us had lots to eat and dey let us have dances
+and suppers, too. We never go anywhere. Mammy always cry and 'fraid of
+bein' stole again.
+
+"Dere was a white man live close to us, but over in Louisan. He had
+raised him a great big black man what brung fancy price on de block. De
+black man sho' love dat white man. Dis white man would sell ole
+John--dat's de black man's name--on de block to some man from Georgia or
+other place fur off. Den, after 'while de white man would steal ole John
+back and bring him home and feed him good, den sell him again. After he
+had sol' ole John some lot of times, he coaxed ole John off in de swamp
+one day and ole John foun' dead sev'ral days later. De white folks said
+dat de owner kilt him, 'cause 'a dead nigger won't tell no tales.'
+
+"Durin' de Freedom War, I seed soldiers all over de road. Dey was
+breakin' hosses what dey stole. Us skeered and didn' let soldiers see us
+if we could he'p it. Mammy and I stayed on with Marse Riley after
+Freedom and till I was 'bout sixteen. Den Marse Riley died and I come to
+Waco in a wagon with Jedge Surratt's brother, Marse Taylor Surratt. I
+come to Waco de same year dat Dr. Lovelace did, and he says that was
+1874. I married and us had six chillun.
+
+"I can't read or write, 'cause I only went to school one day. De white
+folks tried to larn me, but I's too thickheaded.
+
+
+
+
+420244
+
+
+[Illustration: Harriet Jones]
+
+[Illustration: Harriet Jones with Daughter and Granddaughter]
+
+
+     HARRIET JONES, 93, was born a slave of Martin Fullbright, who owned
+     a large plantation in North Carolina. When he died his daughter,
+     Ellen, became Harriet's owner, and was so kind to Harriet that she
+     looks back on slave years as the happiest time in her life.
+
+
+"My daddy and mammy was Henry and Zilphy Guest and Marse Martin
+Fullbright brung dem from North Carolina to Red River County, in Texas,
+long 'fore freedom, and settled near Clarksville. I was one of dere
+eight chillen and borned in 1844 and am 93 years old. My folks stayed
+with Marse Martin and he daughter, Miss Ellen, till dey went to de
+reward where dey dies no more.
+
+"De plantation raise corn and oats and wheat and cotton and hawgs and
+cattle and hosses, and de neares' place to ship to market am at
+Jefferson, Texas, ninety miles from Clarksville, den up river to
+Shreveport and den to Memphis or New Orleans. Dey send cotton by wagon
+train to Jefferson but mostly by boat up de bayou.
+
+"When Marse Martin die he 'vide us slaves to he folks and I falls to he
+daughter, Miss Ellen. Iffen ever dere was a angel on dis earth she was
+it. I hopes wherever it is, her spirit am in glory.
+
+"When Miss Ellen marry Marse Johnnie Watson, she have me fix her up. She
+have de white satin dress and pink sash and tight waist and hoop skirt,
+so she have to go through de door sideways. De long curls I made hang
+down her shoulders and a bunch of pink roses in de hand. She look like a
+angel.
+
+"All de fine folks in Clarksville at dat weddin' and dey dances in de
+big room after de weddin' supper. It was de grand time but it make me
+cry, 'cause Miss Ellen done growed up. When she was a li'l gal she wore
+de sweetes' li'l dresses and panties with de lace ruffles what hung down
+below her skirt, and de jacket button in de back and shoes from soft
+leather de shoeman tan jus' for her. When she li'l bigger she wear de
+tucked petticoats, two, three at a time to take place of hoops, but she
+still wear de white panties with lace ruffles what hang below de skirt
+'bout a foot. Where dey gone now? I ain't seed any for sich a long time!
+
+"When de white ladies go to church in dem hoop skirts, dey has to pull
+dem up in da back to set down. After freedom dey wears de dresses long
+with de train and has to hold up de train when dey goes in de church,
+lessen dey has de li'l nigger to go 'long and hold it up for dem.
+
+"All us house women larned to knit de socks and head mufflers, and many
+is de time I has went to town and traded socks for groceries. I cooked,
+too, and helped 'fore old Marse died. For everyday cookin' we has corn
+pone and potlicker and bacon meat and mustard and turnip greens, and
+good, old sorghum 'lasses. On Sunday we has chicken or turkey or roast
+pig and pies and cakes and hot, salt-risin' bread.
+
+"When folks visit dem days dey do it right and stays several days, maybe
+a week or two. When de quality folks comes for dinner, Missie show me
+how to wait on table. I has to come in when she ring de bell, and hold
+de waiter for food jus' right. For de breakfas' we has coffee and hot
+waffles what my mammy make.
+
+"Dere was a old song we used to sing 'bout de hoecake, when we cookin'
+dem:
+
+  "'If you wants to bake a hoecake,
+  To bake it good and done,
+  Slap it on a nigger's heel,
+  And hold it to de sun.
+
+  "'My mammy baked a hoecake,
+  As big as Alabama,
+  She throwed it 'gainst a nigger's head,
+  It ring jus' like a hammer.
+
+  "'De way you bake a hoecake,
+  De old Virginny way,
+  Wrap it round a nigger's stomach,
+  And hold it dere all day.'
+
+"Dat de life we lives with old and young marse and missie, for dey de
+quality folks of old Texas.
+
+"'Bout time for de field hands to go to work, it gittin' mighty hot down
+here, so dey go by daylight when it cooler. Old Marse have a horn and
+'long 'bout four o'clock it 'gin to blow, and you turn over and try take
+'nother nap, den it goes arguin', b l o w, how loud dat old horn do
+blow, but de sweet smell de air and de early breeze blowin' through de
+trees, and de sun peepin' over de meadow, make you glad to git up in de
+early mornin'.
+
+  "'It's a cool and frosty mornin'
+  And de niggers goes to work,
+  With hoes upon dey shoulders,
+  Without a bit of shirt.'
+
+"'When dey hears de horn blow for dinner it am de race, and dey sings:
+
+  "'I goes up on de meatskins,
+  I comes down on de pone--
+  I hits de corn pone fifty licks,
+  And makes dat butter moan.'
+
+"De timber am near de river and de bayou and when dey not workin' de
+hosses or no other work, we rides down and goes huntin' with de boys,
+for wild turkeys and prairie chickens, but dey like bes' to hunt for
+coons and possums.
+
+  "'Possum up de gum stump,
+  Raccoon in de hollow--
+  Git him down and twist him out,
+  And I'll give you a dollar.'
+
+"Come Christmas, Miss Ellen say, 'Harriet, have de Christmas Tree carry
+in and de holly and evergreens.' Den she puts de candles on de tree and
+hangs de stockin's up for de white chillen and de black chillen. Nex'
+mornin', everybody up 'fore day and somethin' for us all, and for de men
+a keg of cider or wine on de back porch, so dey all have a li'l
+Christmas spirit.
+
+"De nex' thing am de dinner, serve in de big dinin' room, and dat
+dinner! De onlies' time what I ever has sich a good dinner am when I
+gits married and when Miss Ellen marries Mr. Johnnie. After de white
+folks eats, dey watches de servants have dey dinner.
+
+"Den dey has guitars and banjoes and fiddles and plays old Christmas
+tunes, den dat night marse and missie brung de chillen to de quarters,
+to see de niggers have dey dance. 'Fore de dance dey has Christmas
+supper, on de long table out in de yard in front de cabins, and have
+wild turkey or chicken and plenty good things to eat. When dey all
+through eatin', dey has a li'l fire front de main cabins where de
+dancin' gwine be. Dey moves everything out de cabin 'cept a few chairs.
+Next come de fiddler and banjo-er and when dey starts, de caller call,
+'Heads lead off,' and de first couple gits in middle de floor, and all
+de couples follow till de cabin full. Next he calls, 'Sashay to de
+right, and do-si-do.' Round to de right dey go, den he calls, 'Swing
+you partners, and dey swing dem round twice, and so it go till daylight
+come, den he sing dis song:
+
+  "'Its gittin' mighty late when de Guinea hen squall,
+  And you better dance now if you gwine dance a-tall--
+  If you don't watch out, you'll sing 'nother tune,
+  For de sun rise and cotch you, if you don't go soon,
+  For de stars gittin' paler and de old gray coon
+  Is sittin' in de grapevine a-watchin' de moon.'
+
+"Den de dance break up with de Virginny Reel, and it de end a happy
+Christmas day. De old marse lets dem frolic all night and have nex' day
+to git over it, 'cause its Christmas.
+
+"'Fore freedom de soldiers pass by our house and stop ask mammy to cook
+dem something to eat, and when de Yankees stop us chillen hides. Once
+two men stays two, three weeks lookin' round, pretends dey gwine buy
+land. But when de white folks gits 'spicious, dey leaves right sudden,
+and it turn out dey's Yankee spies.
+
+"I marries Bill Jones de year after freedom. It a bright, moonlight
+night and all de white folks and niggers come and de preacher stand
+under de big elm tree, and I come in with two li'l pickininnies for
+flower gals and holdin' my train. I has on one Miss Ellen's dresses and
+red stockin's and a pair brand new shoes and a wide brim hat. De
+preacher say, 'Bill, does you take dis woman to be you lawful wife?' and
+Bill say he will. Den he say, 'Harriet, will you take dis nigger to be
+you lawful boss and do jes' what he say?' Den we signs de book and de
+preacher say, 'I quotes from de scripture:
+
+  "'Dark and stormy may come de weather,
+  I jines dis man and woman together.
+  Let none but Him what make de thunder,
+  Put dis man and woman asunder.'
+
+"Den we goes out in de backyard, where de table sot for supper, a long
+table made with two planks and de peg legs. Miss Ellen puts on de white
+tablecloth and some red berries, 'cause it am November and dey is ripe.
+Den she puts on some red candles, and we has barbecue pig and roast
+sweet 'taters and dumplin's and pies and cake. Dey all eats dis grand
+supper till dey full and mammy give me de luck charm for de bride. It am
+a rabbit toe, and she say:
+
+  "'Here, take dis li'l gift,
+  And place it near you heart;
+  It keep away dat li'l riff
+  What causes folks to part.
+
+  "'It only jes' a rabbit toe,
+  But plenty luck it brings,
+  Its worth a million dimes or more,
+  More'n all de weddin' rings.'
+
+"Den we goes to Marse Watson's saddleshop to dance and dances all night,
+and de bride and groom, dat's us, leads de grand march.
+
+"De Yankees never burned de house or nothin', so Young Marse and Missie
+jes' kep' right on livin' in de old home after freedom, like old Marse
+done 'fore freedom. He pay de families by de day for work and let dem
+work land on de halves and furnish dem teams and grub and dey does de
+work.
+
+"But bye'n-bye times slow commence to change, and first one and 'nother
+de old folks goes on to de Great Beyon', one by one dey goes, till all I
+has left am my great grandchild what I lives with now. My sister was
+livin' at Greenville six years ago. She was a hundred and four years old
+den. I don't know if she's livin' now or not. How does we live dat long?
+Way back yonder 'fore I's born was a blessin' handed down from my great,
+great, grandfather. It de blessin' of long life, and come with a
+blessin' of good health from livin' de clean, hones' life. When
+nighttime come, we goes to bed and to sleep, and dat's our blessin'.
+
+
+
+
+420057
+
+
+[Illustration: Lewis Jones]
+
+
+     LEWIS JONES, 86, was born a slave to Fred Tate, who owned a large
+     plantation on the Colorado River in Fayette Co., Texas. Lewis'
+     father was born a slave to H. Jones and was sold to Fred Tate, who
+     used him as a breeder to build up his slave stock. Lewis took his
+     father's name after Emancipation, and worked for twenty-three years
+     in a cotton gin at La Grange. He came to Fort Worth in 1896 and
+     worked for Armour & Co. until 1931. Lewis lives at 3304 Loving
+     Ave., Fort Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"My birth am in de year 1851 on de plantation of Massa Fred Tate, what
+am on de Colorado River. Yes, suh, dat am in de state of Texas. My mammy
+am owned by Massa Tate and so am my pappy and all my brudders and
+sisters. How many brudders and sisters? Lawd A-mighty! I'll tell you
+'cause you asks and dis nigger gives de facts as 'tis. Let's see, I
+can't 'lect de number. My pappy have 12 chillen by my mammy and 12 by
+anudder nigger name Mary. You keep de count. Den dere am Liza, him have
+10 by her, and dere am Mandy, him have 8 by her, and dere am Betty, him
+have six by her. Now, let me 'lect some more. I can't bring de names to
+mind, but dere am two or three other what have jus' one or two chillen
+by my pappy. Dat am right. Close to 50 chillen, 'cause my mammy done
+told me. It's disaway, my pappy am de breedin' nigger.
+
+"You sees, when I meets a nigger on dat plantation, I's most sho' it am
+a brudder or sister, so I don't try keep track of 'em.
+
+"Massa Tate didn't give rations to each family like lots of massas, but
+him have de cookhouse and de cooks, and all de rations cooked by dem and
+all us niggers sat down to de long tables. Dere am plenty, plenty. I
+sho' wishes I could have some good rations like dat now. Man, some of
+dat ham would go fine. Dat was 'Ham, what am.'
+
+"We'uns raise all de food right dere on de place. Hawgs? We'uns have
+three, four hundred and massa raise de corn and feed dem and cure de
+meat. We'uns have de cornmeal and de wheat flour and all de milk and
+butter we wants, 'cause massa have 'bout 30 cows. And dere am de good
+old 'lasses, too.
+
+"Massa feed powerful good and he am not onreas'ble. He don't whup much
+and am sho' reas'ble 'bout de pass, and he 'low de parties and have de
+church on de place. Old Tom am de preacherman and de musician and him
+play de fiddle and banjo. Sometime dey have jig contest, dat when dey
+puts de glass of water on de head and see who can jig de hardes' without
+spillin' de water. Den dere am joyment in de singin'. Preacher Tom set
+all us niggers in de circle and sing old songs. I jus' can't sing for
+you, 'cause I's lost my teeth and my voice am raspin', but I'll word
+some, sich as
+
+  "'In de new Jerusalem,
+  In de year of Jubilee.'
+
+"I done forgit de words. Den did you ever hear dis one:
+
+  "'Oh, do, what Sam done, do dat again,
+  He went to de hambone, bit off de end.'
+
+"When Old Tom am preacherman, him talks from he heartfelt. Den sometime
+a white preacherman come and he am de Baptist and baptize we'uns.
+
+"Massa have de fine coach and de seat for de driver am up high in front
+and I's de coachman and he dresses me nice and de hosses am fine, white
+team. Dere I's sat up high, all dress good, holdin' a tight line 'cause
+de team am full of spirit and fast. We'uns goes lickity split and it am
+a purty sight. Man, 'twarnt anyone bigger dan dis nigger.
+
+"I has de bad luck jus' one time with dat team and it am disaway: massa
+have jus' change de power for de gin from hoss to steam and dey am
+ginnin' cotton and I's with dat team 'side de house and de hosses am
+a-prancin' and waitin' for missy to come out. Massa am in de coach. Den,
+de fool niggers blows de whistle of dat steam engine and de hosses never
+heered sich befo' and dey starts to run. Dey have de bit in de teeths
+and I's lucky dat road am purty straight. I thinks of massa bein' inside
+de coach and wants to save him. I says to myself, 'Dem hosses skeert and
+I don't want to skeer 'em no more.' I jus' hold de lines steady and keep
+sayin', 'Steady, boys, whoa boys.' Fin'ly dey begins to slow down and
+den stops and massa gits out and de hosses am puffin' hard and all foam.
+He turns to me and say, 'Boy, you's made a wonnerful drive, like a
+vet'ran.' Now, does dat make me feel fine! It sho' do.
+
+"When surrender come I's been drivin' 'bout a year and it's 'bout 11
+o'clock in de mornin', 'cause massa have me ring de bell and all de
+niggers runs quick to de house and massa say dey am free niggers. It am
+time for layin' de crops by and he say if dey do dat he pay 'em. Some
+stays and some goes off, but mammy and pappy and me stays. Dey never
+left dat plantation, and I stays 'bout 8 years. I guess it dat coachman
+job what helt me.
+
+"When I quits I goes to work for Ed Mattson in La Grange and I works in
+dat cotton gin 18 years. Fin'ly I comes here to Fort Worth. Dat am 1896.
+I works for Armours 20 years but dey let me off six years ago, 'cause
+I's too old. Since den I works at any little old job, for to make my
+livin'.
+
+"Sho', I's been married and it to Jane Owen in La Grange, and we'uns
+have three chillen and dey all dead. She died in 1931.
+
+"It am hard for dis nigger to git by and sometime I don't know for sho'
+dat I's gwine git anudder meal, but it allus come some way. Yes, suh,
+dey allus come some way. Some of de time dey is far apart, but dey
+comes. De Lawd see to dat, I guess.
+
+
+
+
+420148
+
+
+     LIZA JONES, 81, was born a slave of Charley Bryant, near Liberty,
+     Texas. She lives in Beaumont, and her little homestead is reached
+     by a devious path through a cemetery and across a ravine on a plank
+     foot-bridge. Liza sat in a backless chair, smoking a pipe, and her
+     elderly son lay on a blanket nearby. Both were resting after a hot
+     day's work in the field. Within the open door could be seen Henry
+     Jones, Liza's husband for sixty years, a tall, gaunt Negro who is
+     helpless. Blind, deaf and almost speechless, he could tell nothing
+     of slavery days, although he was grown when the war ended.
+
+
+"When de Yankees come to see iffen dey had done turn us a-loose, I am a
+nine year old nigger gal. That make me about 81 now. Dey promenade up to
+de gate and de drum say a-dr-um-m-m-m-m, and de man in de blue uniform
+he git down to open de gate. Old massa he see dem comin' and he runned
+in de house and grab up de gun. When he come hustlin' down off de
+gallery, my daddy come runnin'. He seed old massa too mad to know what
+he a-doin', so quicker dan a chicken could fly he grab dat gun and
+wrastle it outten old massa's hands. Den he push old massa in de
+smokehouse and lock de door. He ain't do dat to be mean, but he want to
+keep old massa outten trouble. Old massa know dat, but he beat on de
+door and yell, but it ain't git open till dem Yankees done gone.
+
+"I wisht old massa been a-livin' now, I'd git a piece of bread and meat
+when I want it. Old man Charley Bryant, he de massa, and Felide Bryant
+de missus. Dey both have a good age when freedom come.
+
+"My daddy he George Price and he boss nigger on de place. Dey all come
+from Louisiana, somewhere round New Orleans and all dem li'l extra
+places.
+
+"Liz'beth she my mama and dey's jus' two us chillen, me and my brudder,
+John. He lives in Beaumont.
+
+"'Bout all de work I did was 'tend to de rooms and sweep. Nobody ever
+'low us to see nobody 'bused. I never seed or heared of nobody gittin'
+cut to pieces with a whip like some. Course, chillen wasn't 'lowed to go
+everywhere and see everything like dey does now. Dey jump in every
+corner now.
+
+"Miss Flora and Miss Molly am de only ones of my white folks what am
+alive now and dey done say dey take me to San Antonio with dem. Course,
+I couldn't go now and leave Henry, noway. De old Bryant place am in de
+lawsuit. Dey say de brudder, Mister Benny, he done sharped it 'way from
+de others befo' he die, but I 'lieve the gals will win dat lawsuit.
+
+"My daddy am de gold pilot on de old place. Dat mean anything he done
+was right and proper. Way after freedom, when my daddy die in Beaumont,
+Cade Bryant and Mister Benny both want to see him befo' he buried. Dey
+ride in and say, 'Better not you bury him befo' us see him. Dat's us
+young George.' Dey allus call daddy dat, but he old den.
+
+"My mama was de spring back cook and turkey baker. Dey call her dat, she
+so neat, and cook so nice. I's de expert cook, too. She larnt me.
+
+"Us chillen used to sing
+
+  "'Don't steal,
+  Don't steal my sugar.
+  Don't steal,
+  Don't steal my candy.
+  I's comin' round de mountain.'
+
+"Dey sho' have better church in dem days dan now. Us git happy and
+shout. Dey too many blind taggers now. Now dey say dey got de key and
+dey ain't got nothin'. Us used to sing like dis:
+
+  "'Adam's fallen race,
+  Good Lawd, hang down my head and cry.
+  Help me to trust him,
+  Help me to trust him,
+  Help me to trust him,
+     Gift of Gawd.
+
+  "'Help me to trust him,
+  Help me to trust him,
+  Help me to trust him,
+     Eternal Life.
+
+  "'Had not been for Adam's race,
+  I wouldn't been sinnin' today,
+  Help me to trust him,
+     Gift of Gawd.'
+
+"Dey 'nother hymn like dis:
+
+  "'Heavenly land,
+  Heavenly land,
+  I's gwineter beg Gawd,
+  For dat Heavenly land.
+
+  "'Some come cripplin',
+  Some come lame,
+  Some come walkin',
+  In Jesus' name.'
+
+"You know I saw you-all last night in my sleep? I ain't never seed you
+befo' today, but I seed you last night. Dey's two of you, a man and a
+woman, and you come crost dat bridge and up here, askin' me iffen I
+trust in de Lawd. And here you is today.
+
+"Dey had nice parties in slavery time and right afterwards. Dey have
+candy pullin' and corn shuckin's and de like. Old Massa Day and Massa
+Bryant, dey used to put dey niggers together and have de prize dances.
+Massa Day allus lose, 'cause us allus beat he niggers at dancin'. Lawd,
+when I clean myself up, I sho' could teach dem how to buy a cake-walk in
+dem days. I could cut de pigeon wing, jes' pull my heels up and clack
+dem together. Den us do de back step and de banquet, too.
+
+"Us allus have de white tarleton Swiss dress for dances and Sunday. Dem
+purty good clothes, too and dey make at home. Us knowed how to sew and
+one de old man's gals, she try teach me readin' and writin'. I didn't
+have no sense, though, and I cry to go out and play.
+
+"When freedom come old massa he done broke down and cry, so my daddy
+stay with him. He stay a good many year, till both us chillen was
+growed. Us have de li'l log house on de place all dat time. Dey 'nother
+old cullud man what stay, name George Whitehouse. He have de li'l house,
+too. He stay till he die.
+
+"Dey was tryin' to make a go of it after de war, 'cause times was hard.
+De white boys, dey go out in de field and work den, and work hard,
+'cause dey don't have de slaves no more. I used to see de purty, young
+white ladies, all dress up, comin' to de front door. I slips out and
+tell de white boys, and dey workin' in de field, half-naked and dirty,
+and dey sneak in de back door and clean up to spark dem gals.
+
+"I been marry to dat Henry in dere sixty year, and he was a slave in
+Little Rock, in Arkansas, for Anderson Jones. Henry knowed de bad,
+tejous part of de war and he must be 'bout 96 year old. Now he am in
+pain all de time. Can't see, can't hear and can't talk. Us never has had
+de squabble. At de weddin' de white folks brung cakes and every li'l
+thing. I had a white tarleton dress with de white tarleton wig. Dat de
+hat part what go over de head and drape on de shoulder. Dat de sign you
+ain't never done no wrong sin and gwinter keep bein' good.
+
+"After us marry I move off de old place, but nothin' must do but I got
+to keep de house for Mister Benny. I's cleanin' up one time and finds a
+milk churn of money. I say, 'Mr. Benny, what for you ain't put dat money
+in de bank?' He say he will. De next time I cleanin' up I finds a pillow
+sack full of money. I says, 'Mr. Benny, I's gwineter quit. I ain't
+gwineter be 'sponsible for dis money.' He's sick den and I put de money
+under he pillow and git ready to go. He say, 'You better stay, or I send
+Andrew, de sheriff, after you.' I goes and cooks dinner and when I gits
+back dey has four doctors with Mr. Benny. He wife say to me, 'Liza, you
+got de sight. Am Benny gwineter git well?' I goes and looks and I knowed
+he gwine way from dere. I knowed he was gone den. Dey leant on me a heap
+after dat.
+
+"It some years after dat I leaves dem and Henry and me gits married and
+us make de livin' farmin'. Us allus stays right round hereabouts and
+gits dis li'l house. Now my son and me, us work de field and gits 'nough
+to git through on.
+
+
+
+
+420089
+
+
+[Illustration: Lizzie Jones]
+
+
+     LIZZIE JONES, an 86 year old ex-slave of the R.H. Hargrove family,
+     was born in 1861, in Harrison County, Texas. She stayed with her
+     owner until four years after the close of the Civil War. She now
+     lives with Talmadge Buchanan, a grandson, two miles east of
+     Karnack, on the Lee road.
+
+
+"I was bo'n on the ole Henry Hargrove place. My ole missus was named
+Elizabeth and mammy called me Lizzie for her. But the Hargroves called
+me 'Wink' since I was a chile, 'cause I was so black and shiny. Massa
+Hargrove had four girls and four boys and I helped tend them till I was
+big enough to cook and keep house. I wagged ole Marse Dr. Hargrove, dat
+lives in Marshall, round when he was a baby.
+
+"I allus lived in de house with the white folks and ate at their table
+when they was through, and slep' on the floor. We never had no school or
+church in slavery time. The niggers couldn' even add. None of us knowed
+how ole we was, but Massa set our ages down in a big book.
+
+"I 'member playin' peep-squirrel and marbles and keepin' house when I
+was a chile. Massa 'lowed the boys and girls to cou't but they couldn'
+marry 'fore they was 20 years ole, and they couldn' marry off the
+plantation. Slaves warn't married by no Good Book or the law, neither.
+They'd jes' take up with each other and go up to the Big House and ask
+massa to let them marry. If they was ole enough, he'd say to the boy,
+'Take her and go on home.'
+
+"Mammy lived 'cross the field at the quarters and there was so many
+nigger shacks it look like a town. The slaves slep' on bunks of homemade
+boards nailed to de wall with poles for legs and they cooked on the
+fireplace. I didn' know what a stove was till after de War. Sometime
+they'd bake co'nbread in the ashes and every bit of the grub they ate
+come from the white folks and the clothes, too. I run them looms many a
+night, weavin' cloth. In summer we had lots of turnips and greens and
+garden stuff to eat. Massa allus put up sev'ral barrels of kraut and a
+smokehouse full of po'k for winter. We didn' have flour or lard, but
+huntin' was good 'fore de war and on Sat'day de men could go huntin' and
+fishin' and catch possum and rabbits and squirrels and coons.
+
+"The overseer was named Wade and he woke the han's up at four in the
+mornin' and kep' them in the field from then till the sun set. Mos' of
+de women worked in de fields like de men. They'd wash clothes at night
+and dry them by the fire. The overseer kep' a long coach whip with him
+and if they didn' work good, he'd thrash them good. Sometime he's pretty
+hard on them and strip 'em off and whip 'em till they think he was gonna
+kill 'em. No nigger ever run off as I 'member.
+
+"We never have no parties till after 'mancipation, and we couldn' go off
+de place. On Sundays we slep' or visited each other. But the white folks
+was good to us. Massa Hargrove didn' have no doctor but there wasn' much
+sickness and seldom anybody die.
+
+"I don' 'member much 'bout de War. Massa went to it, but he come home
+shortly and say he sick with the 'sumption, but he got well real quick
+after surrender.
+
+"The white folks didn' let the niggers know they was free till 'bout a
+year after the war. Massa Hargrove took sick sev'ral months after and
+'fore he did he tell the folks not to let the niggers loose till they
+have to. Finally they foun' out and 'gun to leave.
+
+"My pappy died 'fore I was bo'n and mammy married Caesar Peterson and
+'bout a year after de war dey moved to a farm close to Lee, but I kep'
+on workin' for de Hargroves for four years, helpin' missus cook and keep
+house.
+
+
+
+
+420288
+
+
+     TOBY JONES was born in South Carolina, in 1850, a slave of Felix
+     Jones, who owned a large tobacco plantation. Toby has farmed in
+     Madisonville, Texas, since 1869, and still supports himself, though
+     his age makes it hard for him to work.
+
+
+"My father's name was Eli Jones and mammy's name was Jessie. They was
+captured in Africa and brought to this country whilst they was still
+young folks, and my father was purty hard to realize he was a slave,
+'cause he done what he wanted back in Africa.
+
+"Our owner was Massa Felix Jones and he had lots of tobacco planted. He
+was real hard on us slaves and whipped us, but Missie Janie, she was a
+real good woman to her black folks. I 'members when their li'l
+curlyheaded Janie was borned. She jus' loved this old, black nigger and
+I carried her on my back whole days at a time. She was the sweetes' baby
+ever borned.
+
+"Massa, he lived in a big, rock house with four rooms and lots of shade
+trees, and had 'bout fifty slaves. Our livin' quarters wasn't bad. They
+was rock, too, and beds built in the corners, with straw moss to sleep
+on.
+
+"We had plenty to eat, 'cause the woods was full of possum and rabbits
+and all the mud holes full of fish. I sho' likes a good, old, fat possum
+cooked with sweet 'taters round him. We cooked meat in a old-time pot
+over the fireplace or on a forked stick. We grated corn by hand for
+cornbread and made waterpone in the ashes.
+
+"I was borned 'bout 1850, so I was plenty old to 'member lots 'bout
+slave times. I 'members the loyal clothes, a long shirt what come down
+below our knees, opened all the way down the front. On Sunday we had
+white loyal shirts, but no shoes and when it was real cold we'd wrap our
+feet in wool rags so they wouldn't freeze. I married after freedom and
+had white loyal breeches. I wouldn't marry 'fore that, 'cause massa
+wouldn't let me have the woman I wanted.
+
+"The overseer was a mean white man and one day he starts to whip a
+nigger what am hoein' tobacco, and he whipped him so hard that nigger
+grabs him and made him holler. Missie come out and made them turn loose
+and massa whipped that nigger and put him in chains for a whole year.
+Every night he had to be in jail and couldn't see his folks for that
+whole year.
+
+"I seed slaves sold, and they'd make them clean up good and grease their
+hands and face, so they'd look real fat, and sell them off. Of course,
+most the niggers didn't know their parents or what chillen was theirs.
+The white folks didn't want them to git 'tached to each other.
+
+"Missie read some Bible to us every Sunday mornin' and taught us to do
+right and tell the truth. But some them niggers would go off without a
+pass and the patterrollers would beat them up scand'lous.
+
+"The fun was on Saturday night when massa 'lowed us to dance. There was
+lots of banjo pickin' and tin pan beatin' and dancin', and everybody
+would talk 'bout when they lived in Africa and done what they wanted.
+
+"I worked for massa 'bout four years after freedom, 'cause he forced me
+to, said he couldn't 'ford to let me go. His place was near ruint, the
+fences burnt and the house would have been but it was rock. There was a
+battle fought near his place and I taken missie to a hideout in the
+mountains to where her father was, 'cause there was bullets flyin'
+everywhere. When the war was over, massa come home and says, 'You son
+of a gun, you's sposed to be free, but you ain't, 'cause I ain't gwine
+give you freedom.' So, I goes on workin' for him till I gits the chance
+to steal a hoss from him. The woman I wanted to marry, Govie, she 'cides
+to come to Texas with me. Me and Govie, we rides that hoss most a
+hundred miles, then we turned him a-loose and give him a scare back to
+his house, and come on foot the rest the way to Texas.
+
+"All we had to eat was what we could beg and sometimes we went three
+days without a bite to eat. Sometimes we'd pick a few berries. When we
+got cold we'd crawl in a breshpile and hug up close together to keep
+warm. Once in awhile we'd come to a farmhouse and the man let us sleep
+on cottonseed in his barn, but they was far and few between, 'cause they
+wasn't many houses in the country them days like now.
+
+"When we gits to Texas we gits married, but all they was to our weddin'
+am we jus' 'grees to live together as man and wife. I settled on some
+land and we cut some trees and split them open and stood them on end
+with the tops together for our house. Then we deadened some trees and
+the land was ready to farm. There was some wild cattle and hawgs and
+that's the way we got our start, caught some of them and tamed them.
+
+"I don't know as I 'spected nothin' from freedom, but they turned us out
+like a bunch of stray dogs, no homes, no clothin', no nothin', not
+'nough food to last us one meal. After we settles on that place, I never
+seed man or woman, 'cept Govie, for six years, 'cause it was a long ways
+to anywhere. All we had to farm with was sharp sticks. We'd stick holes
+and plant corn and when it come up we'd punch up the dirt round it. We
+didn't plant cotton, 'cause we couldn't eat that. I made bows and
+arrows to kill wild game with and we never went to a store for nothin'.
+We made our clothes out of animal skins.
+
+"We used rabbit foots for good luck, tied round our necks. We'd make
+medicine out of wood herbs. There is a rabbit foot weed that we mixed
+with sassafras and made good cough syrup. Then there is cami weed for
+chills and fever.
+
+"All I ever did was to farm and I made a livin'. I still makes one,
+though I'm purty old now and its hard for me to keep the work up. I has
+some chickens and hawgs and a yearling or two to sell every year.
+
+
+
+
+420173
+
+
+     AUNT PINKIE KELLY, whose age is a matter of conjecture, but who
+     says she was "growed up when sot free," was born on a plantation in
+     Brazoria Co., owned by Greenville McNeel, and still lives on what
+     was a part of the McNeel plantation, in a little cabin which she
+     says is much like the old slave quarters.
+
+
+"De only place I knows 'bout is right here, what was Marse Greenville
+McNeel's plantation, 'cause I's born here and Marse Greenville and Missy
+Amelia, what was his wife, is de only ones I ever belonged to. After de
+war, Marse Huntington come down from up north and took over de place
+when Marse Greenville die, but de big house burned up and all de papers,
+too, and I couldn't tell to save my life how old I is, but I's growed up
+and worked in de fields befo' I's sot free.
+
+"My mammy's name was Harriet Jackson and she was born on de same
+plantation. My pappy's name was Dan, but folks called him Good Cheer. He
+druv oxen and one day they show me him and say he my pappy, and so I
+guess he was, but I can't tell much about him, 'cause chillen then
+didn't know their pappys like chillen do now.
+
+"Most I 'members 'bout them times is work, 'cause we's put out in de
+fields befo' day and come back after night. Then we has to shell a
+bushel of corn befo' we goes to bed and we was so tired we didn't have
+time for nothin'.
+
+"Old man Jerry Driver watches us in de fields and iffen we didn't work
+hard he whip us and whip us hard. Then he die and 'nother man call
+Archer come. He say, 'You niggers now, you don't work good, I beat you,'
+and we sho' worked hard then.
+
+"Marse Greenville treated us pretty good but he never give us nothin'.
+Sometime we'd run away and hide in de woods for a spell, but when they
+cotch us Marse Greenville tie us down and whip us so we don't do it no
+more.
+
+"We didn't have no clothes like we do now, jes' cotton lowers and rubber
+shoes. They used to feed us peas and cornbread and hominy, and sometime
+they threw beef in a pot and bile it, but we never had hawg meat.
+
+"Iffen we took sick, old Aunt Becky was de doctor. They was a building
+like what they calls a hospital and she put us in there and give us
+calomel or turpentine, dependin' on what ailed us. They allus kep' the
+babies there and let de mammies come in and suckle and dry 'em up.
+
+"I never heered much 'bout no war and Marse Greenville never told us we
+was free. First I knows was one day we gwine to de fields and a man come
+ridin' up and say, 'Whar you folks gwine?' We say we gwine to de fields
+and then he say to Marse Greenville, 'You can't work these people,
+without no pay, 'cause they's as free as you is.' Law, we sho' shout,
+young folks and old folks too. But we stay there, no place to go, so we
+jes' stay, but we gits a little pay.
+
+"After 'while I marries. Allen Kelley was de first husban' what I ever
+owned and he die. Houston Edmond, he the las' husban' I ever owned and
+he die, too.
+
+"Law me, they used to be a sayin' that chillen born on de dark of de
+moon ain't gwineter have no luck, and I guess I sho' was born then!"
+
+
+
+
+420217
+
+
+[Illustration: Sam Kilgore]
+
+
+     SAM KILGORE, 92, was born a slave of John Peacock, of Williams
+     County, Tennessee, who owned one of the largest plantations in the
+     south. When he was eight years old, Sam accompanied his master to
+     England for a three-year stay. Sam was in the Confederate Army and
+     also served in the Spanish-American War. He came to Fort Worth in
+     1889 and learned cement work. In 1917 he started a cement
+     contracting business which he still operates. He lives at 1211 E.
+     Cannon St., Fort Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"You asks me when I's born and was I born a slave. Well, I's born on
+July 17, 1845, so I's a slave for twenty years, and had three massas.
+I's born in Williamson County, near Memphis, in Tennessee. Massa John
+Peacock owned de plantation and am it de big one! Dere am a thousand
+acres and 'bout a thousand slaves.
+
+"De slave cabins am in rows, twenty in de first row and eighteen in de
+second and sixteen in de third. Den dere am house servants quarters near
+de big house. De cabins am logs and not much in dem but homemade tables
+and benches and bunks 'side de wall. Each family has dere own cabin and
+sometimes dere am ten or more in de family, so it am kind of crowded.
+But massa am good and let dem have de family life, and once each week de
+rations am measure out by a old darky what have charge de com'sary, and
+dere am allus plenty to eat.
+
+"But dem eats ain't like nowadays. It am home-cured meat and mostly
+cornmeal, but plenty veg'tables and 'lasses and brown sugar. Massa
+raised lots of hawgs, what am Berkshires and Razorbacks. Razorback meat
+am 'sidered de best and sweetest.
+
+"De work stock am eighty head of mules and fifty head of hosses and
+fifteen yoke of oxen. It took plenty feed for all dem and massa have de
+big field of corn, far as we could see. De plantation am run on system
+and everything clean and in order, not like lots of plantations with
+tools scattered 'round and dirt piles here and there. De chief overseer
+am white and de second overseers am black. Stien was nigger overseer in
+de shoemakin' and harness, and Aunty Darkins am overseer of de spinnin'
+and weavin'.
+
+"Dat place am so well manage dat whippin's am not nec'sary. Massa have
+he own way of keepin' de niggers in line. If dey bad he say, 'I 'spect
+dat nigger driver comin' round tomorrow and I's gwine sell you.' Now,
+when a nigger git in de hands of de nigger driver it am de big chance
+he'll git sold to de cruel massa, and dat make de niggers powerful
+skeert, so dey 'haves. On de next plantation we'd hear de niggers
+pleadin' when dey's whipped, 'Massa, have mercy,' and sich. Our massa
+allus say, 'Boys, you hears dat mis'ry and we don't want no sich on dis
+place and it am up to you.' So us all 'haves ourselves.
+
+"When I's four years old I's took to de big house by young Massa Frank,
+old massa's son. He have me for de errand boy and, I guess, for de
+plaything. When I gits bigger I's his valet and he like me and I sho'
+like him. He am kind and smart, too, and am choosed from nineteen other
+boys to go to England and study at de mil'tary 'cademy. I's 'bout eight
+when we starts for Liverpool. We goes from Memphis to Newport and takes
+de boat, Bessie. It am a sailboat and den de fun starts for sho'. It am
+summer and not much wind and sometimes we jus' stand still day after day
+in de fog so thick we can't see from one end de boat to de other.
+
+"I'll never forgit dat trip. When we gits far out on de water, I's dead
+sho' we'll never git back to land again. First I takes de seasick and
+dat am something. If there am anything worser it can't be stood! It
+ain't possible to 'splain it, but I wants to die, and if dey's anything
+worser dan dat seasick mis'ry, I says de Lawd have mercy on dem. I can't
+'lieve dere am so much stuff in one person, but plenty come out of me. I
+mos' raised de ocean! When dat am over I gits homesick and so do Massa
+Frank. I cries and he tries to 'sole me and den he gits tears in he
+eyes. We am weeks on dat water, and good old Tennessee am allus on our
+mind.
+
+"When we gits to England it am all right, but often we goes down to de
+wharf and looks over de cotton bales for dat Memphis gin mark. Couple
+times Massa Frank finds some and he say, 'Here a bale from home, Sam,'
+with he voice full of joy like a kid what find some candy. We stands
+round dat bale and wonders if it am raised on de plantation.
+
+"But we has de good time after we gits 'quainted and I seed lots and
+gits to know some West India niggers. But we's ready to come home and
+when we gits dere it am plenty war. Massa Frank jines de 'Federate Army
+and course I's his valet and goes with him, right over to Camp
+Carpenter, at Mobile. He am de lieutenant under General Gordon and befo'
+long dey pushes him higher. Fin'ly he gits notice he am to be a colonel
+and dat sep'rates us, 'cause he has to go to Floridy. 'I's gwine with
+you,' I says, for I thinks I 'longs to him and he 'longs to me and can't
+nothing part us. But he say, 'You can't go with me this time. Dey's
+gwine put you in de army.' Den I cries and he cries.
+
+"I's seventeen years old when I puts my hand on de book and am a sojer.
+I talks to my captain 'bout Massa Frank and wants to go to see him. But
+it wasn't more'n two weeks after he leaves dat him was kilt. Dat am de
+awful shock to me and it am a long time befo' I gits over it. I allus
+feels if I'd been with him maybe I could save his life.
+
+"My company am moved to Birmingham and builds breastworks. Dey say Gen.
+Lee am comin' for a battle but he didn't ever come and when I been back
+to see dem breastworks, dey never been used. We marches north to
+Lexington, in Kentuck' but am gone befo' de battle to Louisville. We
+comes back to Salem, in Georgia, but I's never in no big battle, only
+some skirmishes now and den. We allus fixes for de battles and builds
+bridges and doesn't fight much.
+
+"I goes back after de war to Memphis. My mammy am on de Kilgore place
+and Massa Kilgore takes her and my pappy and two hundred other slaves
+and comes to Texas. Dat how I gits here. He settles at de place called
+Kilgore, and it was named after him, but in 1867 he moves to Cleburne.
+
+"Befo' we moved to Texas de Klu Kluxers done burn my mammy's house and
+she lost everything. Dey was 'bout $100 in greenbacks in dat house and a
+three hundred pound hawg in de pen, what die from de heat. We done run
+to Massa Rodger's house. De riders gits so bad dey come most any time
+and run de cullud folks off for no cause, jus' to be orn'ry and plunder
+de home. But one day I seed Massa Rodgers take a dozen guns out his
+wagon and he and some white men digs a ditch round de cotton field close
+to de road. Couple nights after dat de riders come and when dey gits
+near dat ditch a volley am fired and lots of dem draps off dey hosses.
+Dat ended de Klux trouble in dat section.
+
+"After I been in Texas a year I jines de Fed'ral Army for de Indian war.
+I's in de transportation division and drives oxen and mules, haulin'
+supplies to de forts. We goes to Fort Griffin and Dodge City and
+Laramie, in Wyoming. Dere am allus two or three hundred sojers with us,
+to watch for Indian attacks. Dey travels on hosses, 'head, 'side and
+'hind de wagon. One day de Sent'nel reports Indians am round so we gits
+hid in de trees and bresh. On a high ledge off to de west we sees de
+Indians travelin' north, two abreast. De lieutenant say he counted 'bout
+seven hundred but dey sho' missed us, or maybe I'd not be here today.
+
+"I stays in de service for seven years and den goes back to Johnson
+County, farmin' on de Rodgers place, and stays till I comes to Fort
+Worth in 1889. Den I gits into 'nother war, de Spanish 'merican War. But
+I's in de com'sary work so don't see much fightin'. In all dem wars I
+sees most no fightin', 'cause I allus works with de supplies.
+
+"After dat war I goes to work laborin' for buildin' contractors. I works
+for sev'ral den gits with Mr. Bardon and larns de cement work with him.
+He am awful good man to work for, dat John Bardon. Fin'ly I starts my
+own cement business and am still runnin' it. My health am good and I's
+allus on de job, 'cause dis home I owns has to be kept up. It cost
+sev'ral thousand dollars and I can't 'ford to neglect it.
+
+"I's married twict. I marries Mattie Norman in 1901 and sep'rates in
+1904. She could spend more money den two niggers could shovel it in. Den
+I marries Lottie Young in 1909, but dere am no chillens. I's never dat
+lucky.
+
+"I's voted ev'ry 'lection and 'lieves it de duty for ev'ry citizen to
+vote.
+
+"Now, I's told you everything from Genesis to Rev'lations, and it de
+truth, as I 'members it.
+
+
+
+
+420058
+
+
+[Illustration: Ben Kinchlow]
+
+
+     BEN KINCHLOW, 91, was the son of Lizaer Moore, a half-white slave
+     owned by Sandy Moore, Wharton Co., and Lad Kinchlow, a white man.
+     When Ben was one year old his mother was freed and given some
+     money. She was sent to Matamoras, Mexico and they lived there and
+     at Brownsville, Texas, during the years before and directly
+     following the Civil War. Ben and his wife, Liza, now live in
+     Uvalde, Texas, in a neat little home. Ben has straight hair, a
+     Roman nose, and his speech is like that of the early white settler.
+     He is affable and enjoys recounting his experiences.
+
+
+"I was birthed in 1846 in Wharton, Wharton County, in slavery times. My
+mother's name was Lizaer Moore. I think her master's name was Sandy
+Moore, and she went by his name. My father's name was Lad Kinchlow. My
+mother was a half-breed Negro; my father was a white man of that same
+county. I don't know anything about my father. He was a white man, I
+know that. After I was borned and was one year old, my mother was set
+free and sent to Mexico to live. When we left Wharton, we was sent away
+in an ambulance. It was an old-time ambulance. It was what they called
+an ambulance--a four-wheeled concern pulled by two mules. That is what
+they used to traffic in. The big rich white folks would get in it and go
+to church or on a long journey. We landed safely into Matamoros, Mexico,
+just me and my mother and older brother. She had the means to live on
+till she got there and got acquainted. We stayed there about twelve
+years. Then we moved back to Brownsville and stayed there until after
+all Negroes were free. She went to washing and she made lots of money at
+it. She charged by the dozen. Three or four handkerchiefs were
+considered a piece. She made good because she got $2.50 a dozen for men
+washing and $5 a dozen for women's clothes.
+
+"I was married in February, 1879, to Christiana Temple, married at
+Matagorda, Matagorda County. I had six children by my first wife. Three
+boys and three girls. Two girls died. The other girl is in Gonzales
+County. Lawrence is here workin' on the Kincaid Ranch and Andrew is
+workin' for John Monagin's dairy and Henry is seventy miles from Alpine.
+He's a highway boss. This was my first wife. Now I am married again and
+have been with this wife forty years. Her name was Eliza Dawson. No
+children born to this union.
+
+"The way we lived in those days--the country was full of wild game,
+deer, wild hogs, turkey, duck, rabbits, 'possum, lions, quails, and so
+forth. You see, in them days they was all thinly settled and they was
+all neighbors. Most settlements was all Meskins mostly; of course there
+was a few white people. In them days the country was all open and a man
+could go in there and settle down wherever he wanted to and wouldn't be
+molested a-tall. They wasn't molested till they commenced putting these
+fences and putting up these barbwire fences. You could ride all day and
+never open a gate. Maybe ride right up to a man's house and then just
+let down a bar or two.
+
+"Sometime when we wanted fresh meat we went out and killed. We also
+could kill a calf or goat whenever we cared to because they were plenty
+and no fence to stop you. We also had plenty milk and butter and
+home-made cheese. We did not have much coffee. You know the way we made
+our coffee? We just taken corn and parched it right brown and ground it
+up. Whenever we would get up furs and hides enough to go into market, a
+bunch of neighbors would get together and take ten to fifteen deer hides
+each and take 'em in to Brownsville and sell 'em and get their
+supplies. They paid twenty-five cents a pound for them. That's when we
+got our coffee, but we'd got so used to using corn-coffee, we didn't
+care whether we had that real coffee so much, because we had to be
+careful with our supplies, anyway. My recollection is that it was fifty
+cents a pound and it would be green coffee and you would have to roast
+it and grind it on a mill. We didn't have any sugar, and very rare thing
+to have flour. The deer was here by the hundreds. There was blue
+quail--my goodness! You could get a bunch of these blue top-knot quail
+rounded up in a bunch of pear and, if they was any rocks, you could kill
+every one of 'em. If you could hit one and get 'im to fluttering the
+others would bunch around him and you could kill every one of 'em with
+rocks.
+
+"We lived very neighborly. When any of the neighbors killed fresh meat
+we always divided with one another. We all had a corn patch, about three
+or four acres. We did not have plows; we planted with a hoe. We were
+lucky in raisin' corn every year. Most all the neighbors had a little
+bunch of goats, cows, mares, and hogs. Our nearest market was forty
+miles, at old Brownsville. When I was a boy I wo'e what was called
+shirt-tail. It was a long, loose shirt with no pants. I did not wear
+pants until I was about ten or twelve. The way we got our supplies, all
+the neighbors would go in together and send into town in a dump cart
+drawn by a mule. The main station was at Brownsville. It was thirty-five
+miles from where they'd change horses. They carried this mail to
+Edinburg, and it took four days. Sometimes they'd ride a horse or mule.
+We'd get our mail once a week. We got our mail at Brownsville.
+
+"The country was very thinly settled then and of very few white people;
+most all Meskins, living on the border. The country was open, no fences.
+Every neighbor had a little place. We didn't have any plows; we planted
+with a hoe and went along and raked the dirt over with our toes. We had
+a grist mill too. I bet I've turned one a million miles. There was no
+hired work then. When a man was hired he got $10 or $12 per month, and
+when people wanted to brand or do other work, all the neighbors went
+together and helped without pay. The most thing that we had to fear was
+Indians and cattle rustlers and wild animals.
+
+"While I was yet on the border, the plantation owners had to send their
+cotton to the border to be shipped to other parts, so it was transferred
+by Negro slaves as drivers. Lots of times, when these Negroes got there
+and took the cotton from their wagon, they would then be persuaded to go
+across the border by Meskins, and then they would never return to their
+master. That is how lots of Negroes got to be free. The way they used to
+transfer the cotton--these big cotton plantations east of here--they'd
+take it to Brownsville and put it on the wharf and ship it from there. I
+can remember seeing, during the cotton season, fifteen or twenty teams
+hauling cotton, sometimes five or six, maybe eight bales on a wagon. You
+see, them steamboats used to run all up and down that river. I think
+this cotton went out to market at New Orleans and went right out into
+the Gulf.
+
+"Our house was a log cabin with a log chimney da'bbed with mud. The
+cabin was covered with grass for a roof. The fireplace was the kind of
+stove we had. Mother cooked in Dutch ovens. Our main meal was corn bread
+and milk and grits with milk. That was a little bit coarser than meal.
+The way we used to cook it and the best flavored is to cook it
+out-of-doors in a Dutch oven. We called 'em corn dodgers. Now ash cakes,
+you have your dough pretty stiff and smooth off a place in the ashes and
+lay it right on the ashes and cover it up with ashes and when it got
+done, you could wipe every bit of the ashes off, and get you some butter
+and put on it. M-m-m! I tell you, its fine! There is another way of
+cookin' flour bread without a skillet or a stove, is to make up your
+dough stiff and roll it out thin and cut it in strips and roll it on a
+green stick and just hold it over the coals, and it sure makes good
+bread. When one side cooks too fast, you can just turn it over, and have
+your stick long enough to keep it from burnin' your hands. How come me
+to learn this was: One time we were huntin' horse stock and there was
+an outfit along and the pack mule that was packed with our provisions
+and skillets and coffee pots and things--we never did carry much stuff,
+not even no beddin'--the pack turned on the mule and we lost our skillet
+and none of us knowed it at the time. All of us was cooks, but that old
+Meskin that was along was the only one that knew how to cook bread that
+way. Sometimes we would be out six weeks or two months on a general
+round-up, workin' horse stock; the country would just be alive with
+cattle, and horses too. We used to have lots of fun on those drives.
+
+"I tell you, I didn't enjoy that 'court' at night. They got so tough on
+us you couldn't spit in camp, couldn't use no cuss words--they would
+sure 'put the leggin's on you' if you did!"
+
+Uncle Ben hitched his chair, and with much chuckling, recalled the
+"kangaroo court" the cowboys used to hold at night in camp. These
+impromptu courts were often all the fun the cowboys had during the long
+weeks of hunting stock in the open range country.
+
+"Oh, it was all in fun. Just catch somebody so we could hold court! They
+would have two or three as a jury. They would use me as sheriff and
+appoint a judge. The prisoner was turned over to the judge and whatever
+he said, it had to be carried out exactly. The penalty? Well,
+sometimes--it was owing to the crime--but sometimes they would put it up
+to about twenty licks with the leggin's. If they was any bendin' trees,
+they would lay you across the log. They got tough, all right, but we
+sure had fun. We had to salute the boss every mornin', and if we forgot
+it...! They never forgot it that night; you'd sure get tried in court.
+
+"We camped on the side of a creek one time, and we had a new man, a sort
+of green fellow. This new man unsaddled his horse by the side of the
+creek and he lay down there. He had on a big pair of spurs, and I was
+watchin' him and studyin' up some kind of prank to play on 'im. So I
+went and got me a string and tied one of his spurs to his saddle and
+then I told the boss what I'd done and he had one of the fellows put a
+saddle on and tie tin cups and pots on it and then they commenced
+shootin' and yellin'. This man with the saddle on went pitchin' right
+toward that fellow, and that man got up, scared to death, and started to
+run. He run the length of the string and then fell down, but he didn't
+take time to get up; he went runnin' on his all-fours as fur as he
+could, till he drug the saddle to where it hung up. He woulda run right
+into the creek, but the saddle held 'im back. We didn't hold kangaroo
+court over that! Nobody knowed who did it. Of course, they all knowed,
+but they didn't let on. But nobody ever got in a bad humor; it didn't do
+no good.
+
+"I've stood up of many a bad night, dozin'. It would be two weeks,
+sometimes, before we got to lay down on our beds. I have stood up
+between the wagon wheel and the bed (of the wagon) and dozed many a
+night. Maybe one or two men would come in and doze an hour or two, but
+if the cattle were restless and ready to run, we had to be ready right
+now. Sho! Those stormy nights thunderin' and lightnin'! You could just
+see the lightnin' all over the steers' horns and your horse's ears and
+mane too. It would dangle all up and down his mane. It never interfered
+with =you= a-tall. And you could see it around the steer's horns in the
+herd, the lightnin' would dangle all over 'em. If the hands (cowboys) or
+the relief could get to 'em before they got started to runnin', they
+could handle 'em; but if they got started first, they would be pretty
+hard to handle.
+
+"The first ranch I worked on after I left McNelly was on the =Banqueta= on
+the =Agua Dulce= Creek for the Miley boys, putting up a pasture fence. I
+worked there about two months, diggin' post holes. From there to the
+King Ranch for about four months, breaking horses. I kept travelin' east
+till I got back to Wharton, where my mother was. She died there in
+Wharton. I didn't stay with her very long. I went down to =Tres Palacios=
+in Matagorda County. I did pasture work there, and cattle work. I worked
+for Mr. Moore for twelve years. Then he moved to Stockdale and I worked
+for him there eight years. From there, after I got through with Mr.
+Moore, I went back to =Tres Palacios= and I worked there for first one man
+and then another. I think we have been here at Uvalde for about
+twenty-three years.
+
+"I've been the luckiest man in the world to have gone through what I
+have and not get hurt. I have never had but two horses to fall with me.
+I could ride all day right now and never tire. You never hear me say,
+'I'm tired, I'm sleepy, I'm hongry.' And out in camp you never see me
+lay down when I come in to camp, or set down to eat, and if I =do=, I set
+down on my foot. I always get my plate in my hand and eat standin' up,
+or lean against the wagon, maybe.
+
+"When Cap'n. McNelly taken sick and resigned, I traveled east and picked
+up jobs of work on ranches. The first work after I left the Rio Grande
+was on the =Banqueta=, and then I went to work on the King Ranch about
+fifty miles southeast (?) of Brownsville. It wasn't fixed up in them
+days like it is now. But the territory is like it was then. They worked
+all Meskin hands. They were working about twenty-five or thirty Meskins
+at the headquarters' ranch. And the main =caporal= was a Meskin. His wages
+was top wages and he got twelve dollars a month. And the hands, if you
+was a real good hand, you got seven or eight dollars a month, and they
+would give you rations. They would furnish you all the meat you wanted
+and furnish you corn, but you would have to grind it yourself for bread.
+You know, like the Meskins make on a =metate=. You could have all the
+home-made cheese you want, and milk. In them days, the Meskins didn't
+have sense enough to make butter. I seen better times them days than I
+am seein' now. We just had a home livin'. You could go out any time and
+kill you anything you wanted--turkeys, hogs, javalinas, deer, 'coons,
+'possums, quail.
+
+"I'll tell you about a Meskin ranch I worked on. It was a big lake. It
+covered, I reckin, fifty acres, and these little Meskin huts just
+surrounded that big lake. And fish! My goodness, you could just go down
+there and throw your hook in without a bait and catch a fish. That was
+what you call the =Laguna de Chacona=. That was out from Brownsville
+about thirty-five miles. That ranch was owned by the old Meskin named
+Chacon, where the lake got its name.
+
+"It seems funny the way they handled milk calves--you know, the
+men-folks didn't milk cows, they wouldn't even fool with 'em. They would
+have a great big corral and maybe they would have fifteen or twenty cows
+and they would be four or five families go there to milk. Every calf
+would have a rawhide strap around his neck about six foot long. Now,
+instead of them makin' a calf pen--of evenin's the girls would go down
+there and I used to go help 'em--they would pull the calf up to the
+fence and stick the strap through a crack and pull the calf's head down
+nearly to the ground where he couldn't suck. Of course, the old cow
+would hang around right close to the calf as she could git. When they
+let the calf suck, they'd leave 'im tied down so he couldn't suck in the
+night. They always kep' the cows up at night and they'd leave the calves
+in the pen with 'em, but tied down. But buildin' just what you call a
+calf pen, they'd set posts in the ground just like these stock pens at
+the railroad and lay the poles between 'em. Then again, they would dig a
+trench and set mesquite poles so thick and deep, why, you couldn't push
+it down!
+
+"Now, in dry times, they would have a =banvolete= (ban-bo-la-te). Hand me
+two of them sticks, mama. Now, you see, like here would be the well and
+you cut a long stick as long as you could get it, with a fork up here in
+this here pole, and have this here stick in the fork of the pole. They'd
+bolt the cross piece down in the fork of the pole that was put in the
+ground right by the well, and have it so it would work up and down.
+They'd be a weight tied on the end of the other pole and they could sure
+draw water in a hurry. I made one out here on the Anderson Ranch. Just
+as fast as you could let your bucket down, then jerk it up, you had the
+water up. The well had cross pieces of poles laid around it and cut to
+fit together.
+
+"Now, about the other way we had to draw water. We had a big well, only
+it was fenced around to keep cattle from gettin' in there. The reason
+they had to do that, they had a big wheel with footpieces, like steps,
+to tread, and you would have the wheel over the well and they had about
+fifteen or twenty rawhide buckets fastened to a rope (that the wheel
+pulled it went around), and when they went down, they would go down in
+front of you. You had to sit down right behind the wheel, and you would
+push with your feet and pull with your hands, and the buckets came up
+behind you and as they went up, they would empty and go back down. They
+had some way of fixin' the rawhide. I think they toasted it, or scorched
+the hide to keep it hard so the water wouldn't soak it up and get it
+soft. That was on that place, the Chacona Lakes. That old Meskin was a
+native of the Rio Grande and run cattle and horses. In them days, you
+could buy an acre of land for fifty cents, river front, all the land you
+wanted. Now that land in that valley, you couldn't buy it for a hundred
+dollars an acre.
+
+"Did I tell you about diggin' that pit right in the fence of our corn
+patch to catch javalines? The way we done, why, we just dug a big pit
+right on the inside of the field, right against the fence, and whenever
+they would go through that hole to go in the corn patch, they would drop
+off in that hole. I think we caught nine, little and big, at one
+trappin' once. It was already an old trompin' place where they come in
+and out, and we had put the pit there. But after you use it, they won't
+come in there again.
+
+"You see, I tell you about them brush fences. The deer had certain
+places to go to that fence to jump it, and after we found the regular
+jumpin' place, we would cut three sticks--pretty good size, about like
+your wrist, about three foot long--and peel 'em and scorch 'em in the
+fire and sharpen the ends right good and we would go to set our traps.
+We would put these three sharp sticks right about where the forefeet of
+the deer would hit. You'd just set the sticks about four inches from
+where his forefeet would hit the ground, and you'd set the sticks
+leanin' towards the brush fence, and they would be one in the center and
+two on the side and about two inches apart. When he jumped, you would
+sure get 'im right about the point of the brisket. He'd hardly ever
+miss 'em, and you'd find 'im right there. Oh, sometimes he'd pull up a
+stick and run a piece with it, but he didn't run very far.
+
+"I been listenin' to the radio about Cap'n McNelly and I tell you it
+didn't sound right to me. In what way? Why, they never was no cattle on
+the steamboats down the Rio Grande. I just tell you they was no way of
+shippin' cattle on a steamboat. They couldn't get 'em down the hatch and
+they couldn't keep 'em on deck and they wasn't no wharf to load 'em,
+either. I was there and I seen them boats too long and I =know= they never
+shipped no cattle on them steamboats. After they crossed the Rio Grand
+into Mexico, they might have been shipped from some port down there, but
+all them cattle they crossed was =swum= across. They was big boats, but
+they wasn't no stock boats. They shipped lots of cotton on them
+steamboats, but they wasn't fixed to ship no cattle. They was up there
+for freight and passengers. The passengers was going on down the Gulf,
+maybe to New Orleans. They would get on at Brownsville. The steamboats
+couldn't go very fur up the river only in high water, but they could
+come up to Brownsville all the time.
+
+"I was in the Ranger service for about a year with Captain McNelly, or
+until he died. I was his guide. I was living thirty-five miles above
+Brownsville. I was working for a man right there on the place by the
+name of John Cunningham. It was called Bare Stone. You see, hit was a
+ranch there. McNelly was stationed there after the government troops
+moved off. They had 'em (the troops) there for a while, but they never
+did do no good, never did make a raid on nothin'. I was twenty or
+twenty-one. How come me to get in with McNelly, they had a big meadow
+there, a big 'permuda' (Bermuda) grass meadow. Me and another fellow
+used to go in there, and John Cunningham furnished Cap'n McNelly hay for
+his horses. That's how come me to get in with 'im. Fin'ly, he found out
+I knew all about that country and sometimes he would come over there and
+get me to map off a road, though they wasn't but one main road right
+there. So, one day I was over in the camp with 'im and I say, 'Cap'n,
+how would you like to give me a job to work with you?' He said, 'I'd
+like to have you all right, but you couldn't come here on state pay, and
+under =no responsibility=.' I told 'im that was all right. I knew how I
+was going to get my money, 'cause I gambled. Sometimes I would have a
+hundred or a hundred, twenty-five dollars. Durin' the month I would win
+from the soljers dealin' monte or playin' seven-up. They wasn't no craps
+in them days. We played luck too; we never had no shenanigans,
+a-stealin' a man's money. If you had a good streak o' luck, you made
+good; if you didn't, you was out o' luck. Sometimes, I had up as high as
+twenty-five or thirty dollars.
+
+"One thing about the cap'n, he'd tell his men--well, we had a sutler's
+shop right across from our camp, all kinds of good drinks--and he would
+tell his men he didn't care how much they drank but he didn't want any
+of 'em fighting'. He kep' 'em under good control.
+
+"You see, they was all dependin' on me for guidin'. There was no way
+for them cow rustlers or bandits to get to the cow ranches after they
+crossed the river (Rio Grande) excep' to cross that road for there was
+no other way for 'em to get out there. You see, there was where it would
+be easy for me, pickin' up a trail. I would just follow that road on if
+I had a certain distance to go, and if I didn't find no trail I would
+come back and report, and if I would find a trail he would ask me how
+many they was and where they was goin', and I would tell 'im which way,
+'cause I didn't know exactly where they was goin' to round-up. He would
+always give 'em about two or three days to make the round-up from the
+time that trail crossed. And we always went to meet 'em, or catch 'em at
+the river. We got into two or three real bad combats.
+
+"The worst one was on Palo Alto Prairie, one of Santa Anna's battle
+grounds. About twelve or fifteen miles east of old Brownsville. They was
+sixteen of the bandits and they was fifteen of 'em killed--all Meskins
+excep' one white man. One Meskin escaped. The cap'n just put 'em all up
+together in a pile and sent a message to Brownsville to the authorities
+and told 'em where they was at and what shape they was in. They must
+have had two hundred or two hundred and twenty-five head (of cattle)
+with 'em. It was open country and they would get anybody's cattle. They
+just got 'em off the range.
+
+"They mostly would cross that road at night, and by me gettin' out early
+next mornin' and findin' that trail, I could tell pretty much how old it
+was. I reckon that place wasn't over thirteen miles from Brownsville and
+our camp was thirty-five miles, I guess it must have been twenty-five
+miles from our camp to where we had that battle. We sure went there to
+get 'em. I trailed them horses and I knowed from the direction they was
+takin' that they was goin' to those big lakes called Santa Lalla. They
+was between Point Isabel and Brownsville and that made us about a
+forty-five mile ride to get to that crossin', to a place called Bagdad,
+right on the waters of the Rio Grande.
+
+"We got our lunch at Brownsville and started out to go to this crossin'.
+I knowed right about where this crossin' was and I says to the cap'n,
+'Don't you reckon I better go and see if they was any sign?' We stayed
+there about three hours and didn't hear a thing. And then the cap'n
+said, 'Boys, we better eat our lunch'. While we was eatin', we heard
+somebody holler, and he said, 'Boys, there they are.' And he said to me,
+'Ben, you want to stay with the horses or be in the fun?' And I said, 'I
+don't care.' So he said, 'You better stay with the horses; you ain't
+paid to kill Meskins! I went out to where the horses were. The rangers
+were afoot in the brush. It was about an hour from the time we heard the
+fellow holler before the cattle got there. When the rangers placed
+themselves on the side of the road, the Meskins didn't know what they
+was goin' to get into!
+
+"The Meskins was all singin' at the top of their voices and they was
+comin' on in. The cap'n waited till they went to crossin' the herd, he
+waited till these rustlers all got into the river behind the cattle, and
+then the cap'n opened fire on the bandits. They didn't have no possible
+show. They was in the water, and he just floated 'em down the river.
+They was one man got away. I saw 'im later, and he told me about it. The
+way he got away, he says he was a good swimmer and he just fell off his
+horse in the water and the swift water took 'im down and he just kep'
+his nose out of the water and got away that way. They was fo'teen in
+that bunch, I know.
+
+"The echo of the shootin' turned the cattle back to the American side.
+The lead cattle was just gettin' ready to hit the other side of the
+river when the shootin' taken place and the echo of the shootin' turned
+'em and they come back across. Now, in swimmin' a bunch of cattle, if
+you pop your whip, you are just as liable to turn 'em back, or if you
+holler the echo might turn 'em back. It'll do that nearly every time.
+
+"After the fight, the cap'n says to the boys, 'Well, boys, the fun is
+all over now, I guess we'd better start back to camp.' And they all
+mounted their horses and begun singin':
+
+  "O, bury me not on the lone prairie-e-e
+    Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me-e-e,
+  Right where all the Meskins ought to be-e-e!"
+
+
+
+
+420949
+
+
+[Illustration: Mary Kindred]
+
+
+     MARY KINDRED was a slave on the Luke Hadnot plantation in Jasper,
+     Texas. She does not know her age but thinks she is about 80. She
+     now lives in Beaumont, Texas.
+
+
+"My mind don't dwell back. The older I gits the lessen I thinks 'bout
+the old times. I ain't gittin' old. I's done got old. I not been one of
+them bad, outlawed fellers, so de good Lawd done 'low me live a long
+time. Some things I knows I heered from my mother and my grandma. They
+so fresh to them in that time, though, I mostly sure they's truth.
+
+"My mother name was Hannah Hadnot and my daddy was Ruffin Hadnot and he
+used to carry the mail from Weiss Bluff to Jasper. They waylay him 'long
+the road in 1881 and kill him and rob the mail.
+
+"Luke Hadnot was our old massa. He good to my grandma and give her
+license for a doctor woman. Old massa must of thought lots of her,
+'cause he give her forty acres of land and a home fer herself. That
+house still standin' up there in Jasper, yet.
+
+"Grandma used to sing a li'l song to us, like this:
+
+  "'One mornin' in May,
+  I spies a beautiful dandy,
+  A-rakin' way of de hay.
+  I asks her to marry.
+  She say, scornful, 'No.'
+  But befo' six months roll by
+  Her apron strings wouldn't tie
+  She wrote me a letter,
+  She marry me then,
+  I say, no, no, my gal, not I.'
+
+"Grandma git de bark offen de thorn tree and bile it with turpentine for
+de toothache. She used herbs for de medicine and they's good.
+
+"Old missy was tall and slim, a rawbone sort of woman. Her name was
+Matilda Hadnot. Massa have as big a still as ever I seed and dey used to
+make everything there. They has it civered with boards they rive out the
+woods. There wasn't no revenuers in dem days.
+
+"Us gits de groceries by steamboat and the wagons go down the old
+Bevilport Road to the steamboat landin'. That the Ang'leen River. One
+the biggest boats was own by Capt. Bryce Hadnot, the 'Old Grim.'
+
+"I 'member back durin' the war the people couldn't git no coffee. They
+used to take bran and peanuts and okra seed and sich and parch 'em for
+coffee. It make right drinkable coffee. They gits sugar from the store
+or the sugar cane. When they buy it, it's in a big, white lump what they
+calls 'sugar loaf.' When they has no sugar they uses the syrup to
+sweeten the coffee and they call syrup 'long sweetenin' and sugar,
+'short sweetenin'.
+
+"Us has lots of dances with fiddle and 'corjum player. Us sing, 'Swing
+you partner, Promenade.' Another li'l song start out:
+
+  "'Dinah got a meat skin lay away,
+  Grease dat wooden leg, Dinah.
+  Grease dat wooden leg, Dinah.
+    Shake dat wooden leg, Dinah,
+    Shake dat wooden leg, Dinah.'
+
+I 'members this song:
+
+  "'Down in Shiloh town,
+  Down in Shiloh town,
+  De old grey mare come
+  Tearin' out de wilderness.
+  Down in Shiloh town,
+    O, boys, O,
+    O, boys, O,
+  Down in Shiloh town.'
+
+"I's seed lots of blue gum niggers and they say iffen they bite you dey
+pizen you. They hands diff'rent from other niggers. Now, my hand's right
+smart white in the inside, but blue gum nigger hand is more browner on
+the inside.
+
+"I used to have a old aunt name Harriett and iffen she tell you anythin'
+you kin jes' put it down it gwineter come out like she say. She have the
+big mole on the inside her mouth and when she shake her finger at you it
+gwine happen to you jes' like she say. That what they call puttin' bad
+mouth on them and she sho' could do it.
+
+"I's had 12 chillen. My first husban was Anthony Adams and the last
+Alfred Kindred. I only got three chillen livin' now, though. One of the
+sons am the outer door guard of the lodge here in Beaumont.
+
+
+
+
+420311
+
+
+     NANCY KING, 93, was born in Upshur County, Texas, a slave of
+     William Jackson. She and her husband moved to Marshall, Texas, in
+     1866. Nancy now lives with her daughter, Lucy Staples.
+
+
+"I was borned and raised on William Jackson's place, jus' twelve miles
+east of Gilmer. I was growed and had one child at surrender, and my
+mother told me I was a woman of my own when Old Missie sot us free, jus'
+after surrender, so you can figurate my age from that.
+
+"My first child was borned the January befo' surrender in June, and I
+'members hoeing in the field befo' the war come on. Massa William raised
+lots of cotton and corn and tobacco and most everything we et. I never
+worked in the field, 'cept to chase the calves in, till I was most
+growed. Massa was good to us. Course, I never went to school, but Old
+Missie sent my brother, Alex, two years after the war, with her own
+chillen.
+
+"I was married durin' the war and it was at church, with a white
+preacher. Old Missie give me the cloth and dye for my weddin' dress and
+my mother spun and dyed the cloth, and I made it. It was homespun but
+nothin' cheap 'bout it for them days. After the weddin' massa give us a
+big dinner and we had a time.
+
+"Massa done all the bossin' his own self. He never whipped me, but Old
+Missie had to switch me a little for piddlin' round, 'stead of doin'
+what she said. Every Sat'day night we had a candy pullin' and played
+games, and allus had plenty of clothes and shoes.
+
+"I seed the soldiers comin' and gwine to the war, and 'members when
+Massa William left to go fight for the South. His boy, Billie, was
+sixteen, and tended the place while massa's away. Massa done say he'd
+let the niggers go without fightin'. He didn't think war was right, but
+he had to go. He 'serts and comes home befo' the war gits goin' good and
+the soldiers come after him. He run off to the bottoms, but they was on
+hosses and overtook him. I was there in the room when they brung him
+back. One of them says, 'Jackson, we ain't gwine take you with us now,
+but we'll fix you so you can't run off till we git back.' They put red
+pepper in his eyes and left. Missie cried. They come back for him in a
+day or two and made my father saddle up Hawk-eye, massa's best hoss.
+Then they rode away and we never seed massa 'gain. One day my brother,
+Alex, hollers out, 'Oh, Missie, yonder is the hoss, at the gate, and
+ain't nobody ridin' him.' Missie throwed up her hands and says, 'O,
+Lawdy, my husban' am dead!' She knowed somehow when he left he wasn't
+comin' back.
+
+"Old Missie freed us but said we had a home as long as she did. Me and
+my husban' stays 'bout a year, but my folks stays till she marries
+'gain.
+
+"My brother-in-law, Sam Pitman, tells us how he put one by the Ku
+Kluxers. Him and some niggers was out one night and the Kluxers chases
+them on hosses. They run down a narrow road and tied four strands of
+grapevine 'cross the road, 'bout breast high to a hoss. The Kluxers come
+gallopin' down that road and when the hosses hit that grapevine, it
+throwed them every which way and broke some their arms. Sam used to
+laugh and tell how them Kluxers cussed them niggers.
+
+"Me and my husban' come to Marshall the year after surrender, and I is
+lived here every since. My man works on farms till he got on the
+railroad. I's been married four times and raised six chillen. The young
+people is diff'rent from what we was, but diff'rent times calls for
+diff'rent ways, I 'spect. My chillen allus done the best they could by
+me.
+
+
+
+
+420272
+
+
+     SILVIA KING, French Negress of Marlin, Texas, does not know her
+     age, but says that she was born in Morocco. She was stolen from her
+     husband and three children, brought to the United States and sold
+     into slavery. Silvia has the appearance of extreme age, and may be
+     close to a hundred years old, as she thinks she is, because of her
+     memories of the children she never saw again and of the slave ship.
+
+
+"I know I was borned in Morocco, in Africa, and was married and had
+three chillen befo' I was stoled from my husband. I don't know who it
+was stole me, but dey took me to France, to a place called Bordeaux, and
+drugs me with some coffee, and when I knows anything 'bout it, I's in de
+bottom of a boat with a whole lot of other niggers. It seem like we was
+in dat boat forever, but we comes to land, and I's put on de block and
+sold. I finds out afterwards from my white folks it was in New Orleans
+where dat block was, but I didn't know it den.
+
+"We was all chained and dey strips all our clothes off and de folks what
+gwine buy us comes round and feels us all over. Iffen any de niggers
+don't want to take dere clothes off, de man gits a long, black whip and
+cuts dem up hard. I's sold to a planter what had a big plantation in
+Fayette County, right here in Texas, don't know no name 'cept Marse
+Jones.
+
+"Marse Jones, he am awful good, but de overseer was de meanest man I
+ever knowed, a white man name Smith, what boasts 'bout how many niggers
+he done kilt. When Marse Jones seed me on de block, he say, 'Dat's a
+whale of a woman.' I's scairt and can't say nothin', 'cause I can't
+speak English. He buys some more slaves and dey chains us together and
+marches us up near La Grange, in Texas. Marse Jones done gone on ahead
+and de overseer marches us. Dat was a awful time, 'cause us am all
+chained up and whatever one does us all has to do. If one drinks out of
+de stream we all drinks, and when one gits tired or sick, de rest has to
+drag and carry him. When us git to Texas, Marse Jones raise de debbil
+with dat white man what had us on da march. He git de doctor man and
+tell de cook to feed us and lets us rest up.
+
+"After 'while, Marse Jones say to me, 'Silvia, am you married?' I tells
+him I got a man and three chillen back in de old country, but he don't
+understand my talk and I has a man give to me. I don't bother with dat
+nigger's name much, he jes' Bob to me. But I fit him good and plenty
+till de overseer shakes a blacksnake whip over me.
+
+"Marse Jones and Old Miss finds out 'bout my cookin' and takes me to de
+big house to cook for dem. De dishes and things was awful queer to me,
+to what I been brung up to use in France. I mostly cooks after dat, but
+I's de powerful big woman when I's young and when dey gits in a tight
+[Handwritten Note: 'place?'] I helps out.
+
+"'Fore long Marse Jones 'cides to move. He allus say he gwine git where
+he can't hear he neighbor's cowhorn, and he do. Dere ain't nothin' but
+woods and grass land, no houses, no roads, no bridges, no neighbors,
+nothin' but woods and wild animals. But he builds a mighty fine house
+with a stone chimney six foot square at de bottom. The sill was a foot
+square and de house am made of logs, but dey splits out two inch plank
+and puts it outside de logs, from de ground clean up to de eaves. Dere
+wasn't no nails, but dey whittles out pegs. Dere was a well out de back
+and a well on de back porch by de kitchen door. It had a wheel and a
+rope. Dere was 'nother well by de barns and one or two round de
+quarters, but dey am fixed with a long pole sweep. In de kitchen was de
+big fireplace and de big back logs am haul to de house. De oxen pull dem
+dat far and some men takes poles and rolls dem in de fireplace. Marse
+Jones never 'low dat fire go out from October till May, and in de fall
+Marse or one he sons lights de fire with a flint rock and some powder.
+
+"De stores was a long way off and de white folks loans seed and things
+to each other. If we has de toothache, de blacksmith pulls it. My
+husband manages de ox teams. I cooks and works in Old Miss's garden and
+de orchard. It am big and fine and in fruit time all de women works from
+light to dark dryin' and 'servin' and de like.
+
+"Old Marse gwine feed you and see you quarters am dry and warm or know
+de reason why. Most ev'ry night he goes round de quarters to see if dere
+any sickness or trouble. Everybody work hard but have plenty to eat.
+Sometimes de preacher tell us how to git to hebben and see de ring
+lights dere.
+
+"De smokehouse am full of bacon sides and cure hams and barrels lard and
+'lasses. When a nigger want to eat, he jes' ask and git he passel. Old
+Miss allus 'pend on me to spice de ham when it cure. I larnt dat back in
+de old country, in France.
+
+"Dere was spinnin' and weavin' cabins, long with a chimney in each end.
+Us women spins all de thread and weaves cloth for everybody, de white
+folks, too. I's de cook, but times I hit de spinnin' loom and wheel
+fairly good. Us bleach de cloth and dyes it with barks.
+
+"Dere allus de big woodpile in de yard, and de big, caboose kettle for
+renderin' hawg fat and beef tallow candles and makin' soap. Marse allus
+have de niggers take some apples and make cider, and he make beer, too.
+Most all us had cider and beer when we want it, but nobody git drunk.
+Marse sho' cut up if we do.
+
+"Old Miss have de floors sanded, dat where you sprinkles fine, white
+sand over da floor and sweeps it round in all kinds purty figgers. Us
+make a corn shuck broom.
+
+"Marse sho' a fool 'bout he hounds and have a mighty fine pack. De boys
+hunts wolves and painters (panthers) and wild game like dat. Dere was
+lots of wild turkey and droves of wild prairie chickens. Dere was
+rabbits and squirrels and Indian puddin', make of cornmeal. It am real
+tasty. I cooks goose and pork and mutton and bear meat and beef and deer
+meat, den makes de fritters and pies and dumplin's. Sho' wish us had dat
+food now.
+
+"On de cold winter night I's sot many a time spinnin' with two threads,
+one in each hand and one my feets on de wheel and de baby sleepin' on my
+lap. De boys and old men was allus whittlin' and it wasn't jes'
+foolishment. Dey whittles traps and wooden spoons and needles to make
+seine nets and checkers and sleds. We all sits workin' and singin' and
+smokin' pipes. I likes my pipe right now, and has two clay pipes and
+keeps dem under de pillow. I don't aim for dem pipes to git out my
+sight. I been smokin' clost to a hunerd years now and it takes two cans
+tobaccy de week to keep me goin'.
+
+"Dere wasn't many doctors dem days, but allus de closet full of simples
+(home remedies) and most all de old women could git med'cine out de
+woods. Ev'ry spring, Old Miss line up all de chillen and give dem a
+dose of garlic and rum.
+
+"De chillen all played together, black and white. De young ones purty
+handy trappin' quail and partridges and sech. Dey didn't shoot if dey
+could cotch it some other way, 'cause powder and lead am scarce. Dey
+cotch de deer by makin' de salt lick, and uses a spring pole to cotch
+pigeons and birds.
+
+"De black folks gits off down in de bottom and shouts and sings and
+prays. Dey gits in de ring dance. It am jes' a kind of shuffle, den it
+git faster and faster and dey gits warmed up and moans and shouts and
+claps and dances. Some gits 'xhausted and drops out and de ring gits
+closer. Sometimes dey sings and shouts all night, but come break of day,
+de nigger got to git to he cabin. Old Marse got to tell dem de tasks of
+de day.
+
+"Old black Tom have a li'l bottle and have spell roots and water in it
+and sulphur. He sho' could find out if a nigger gwine git whipped. He
+have a string tie round it and say, 'By sum Peter, by sum Paul, by de
+Gawd dat make us all, Jack don't you tell me no lie, if marse gwine whip
+Mary, tell me.' Sho's you born, if dat jack turn to de laft, de nigger
+git de whippin', but if marse ain't makeup he mind to whip, dat jack
+stand and quiver.
+
+"You white folks jes' go through de woods and don't know nothin'. Iffen
+you digs out splinters from de north side a old pine tree what been
+struck by lightnin', and gits dem hot in a iron skillet and burns dem to
+ashes, den you puts dem in a brown paper sack. Iffen de officers gits
+you and you gwine have it 'fore de jedge, you gits de sack and goes
+outdoors at midnight and hold de bag of ashes in you hand and look up
+at de moon--but don't you open you mouth. Nex' mornin' git up early and
+go to de courthouse and sprinkle dem ashes in de doorway and dat law
+trouble, it gwine git tore up jes' like de lightnin' done tore up dat
+tree.
+
+"De shoestring root am powerful strong. Iffen you chews on it and spits
+a ring round de person what you wants somethin' from, you gwine git it.
+You can git more money or a job or most anythin' dat way. I had a black
+cat bone, too, but it got away from me.
+
+"I's got a big frame and used to weigh a hunerd pounds, but day tells me
+I only weighs a hunerd now. Dis Louis Southern I lives with, he's de
+youngest son of my grandson, who was de son of my youngest daughter. My
+marse, he knowed Gen. Houston and I seed him many a time. I lost what
+teeth I had a long time ago and in 1920 two more new teeth come through.
+Dem teeth sho' did worry me and I's glad when dey went, too.
+
+
+
+
+List of Transcriber's Corrections:
+
+
+List of Illustrations: 285 (#290#)
+
+Page 2: come (wooden dishes. Some de knives and forks was make out of
+bone. Dey had beef and pork and turkey and #some# antelope.)
+
+Page 4: bit (all through dat house. I takes de lantern and out in de
+hall I goes. Right by de foot de stairs I seed a woman, #big# as life,
+but she was thin and I seed right through her. She jes' walk on down dat
+hall and pay me no mind. She make de sound)
+
+Page 7: was that a (slavery, 'cause massa give me a sack of molasses
+candy once and some biscuits once and that #was a# whole lot to me
+then.)
+
+Page 9: kepps (daren't tell them 'cept on the sly. That I done lots. I
+tells 'em iffen they #keeps# prayin' the Lord will set 'em free. But
+since them days I's done studied some and I preached all over Panola and
+Harrison County and)
+
+Page 18: bit (piles, one for de big house and de bigges' pile for de
+slaves. When dey git it all hauled it look like a #big# woodyard. While
+dey is haulin', de women make quilts and dey is wool quilts. Course, dey
+ain't made out of shearin' wool,)
+
+Page 19: sich (Course, I hears some talk 'bout bluebellies, what dey
+call de Yanks, fightin' our folks, but dey wasn't fightin' round us. Den
+one dey mamma took #sick# and she had hear talk and call me to de bed
+and say, 'Lucinda, we all gwine be free soon and not)
+
+Page 24: neber ("I seem jes' punyin' away, de doctors don' know jes'
+what's wrong wid me but I #never# was use to doctors anyway, jes' some
+red root tea or sage weed and sheep)
+
+Page 29: was ("After #war# was over, old massa call us up and told us we
+free but he 'vise not leave de place till de crop was through. Us all
+stay. Den)
+
+Page 30: suddent (for justice. One man, he look jus' like ordinary man,
+but he spring up 'bout eighteen feet high all of a #sudden#. Another say
+he so thirsty he ain't have no water since he been kilt at Manassas
+Junction. He ask)
+
+Page 42: (what lives at West Columbia. Massa Kit on one side Varney's
+Creek and Massa Charles on de other side. Massa Kit have a #African#
+woman from Kentucky for he wife, and dat's de truth. I ain't sayin'
+iffen she a)
+
+Page 43: goiin' (Where you gwine to go? I's #goin'# down to new ground,
+For to hunt Jim Crow.')
+
+Page 71: hus' ("We lived in a log house with dirt floors, warm in winter
+but sho' hot in summer, no screens or nothin', #jus'# homemade doors. We
+had homemade beds out of planks they picked up around. Mattresses
+nothin', we had shuck beds.)
+
+Page 72: bit (whole sack of pure gold and silver, and say bury it in de
+orchard. I sho' was scart, but I done what she said. Dey was more gold
+in a #big# desk, and de Yanks pulled de top of dat desk and got de gold.
+Miss Jane had a purty gold ring on)
+
+Page 79: of (the place, they still go up to the big house for a pass.
+They jus' can't understand 'bout the freedom. Old Marse #or#Missus say,
+'You don't need no pass. All you got to do is jus' take you foot in you
+hand and go.')
+
+Page 84: ahd ("They had a church this side of New Fountain #and# the
+boss man 'lowed us to go on Sunday. If any of the slaves did join, they
+didn')
+
+Page 99: of (cornmeal mush and corn hominy and corn grits and parched
+corn for drink, 'stead of tea #or# coffee. Us have milk and 'lasses and
+brown sugar, and some meat. Dat all raise on de place. Stuff for to eat
+and wear, dat)
+
+Page 114: Pennslyvania (my sister and got in the soldier business. The
+gov'ment give me $30.00 a month for drivin' a four-mule wagon for the
+army. I druv all through #Pennsylvania# and Virginia and South Carolina
+for the gov'ment. I was a&mdash;&mdash;what)
+
+Page 116: Sue ("My mother sold into slavery in Georgia, or round dere.
+#She# tell me funny things 'bout how dey use to do up dere. A old white
+man think so much of)
+
+Page 123: turpentime (doctor. When us chillun git sick dey git yarbs or
+dey give us castor oil and #turpentine#. Iffen it git to be a ser'ous
+ailment dey sen' for de reg'lar doctor. Dey uster)
+
+Page 130: Missisippi (Hedwig, Bexar Co., Texas, the son of slave parents
+bought in #Mississippi# by his master, William Gudlow.)
+
+Page 133: Hallejujah! (crossin' and walkin' and ridin'. Everyone was
+a-singin'. We was all walkin' on golden clouds. #Hallelujah!#)
+
+Page 140: tey ("I's too old to make any more visits, but I would like to
+go back to Old Georgia once more. If Missy Mary was 'live, I'd #try#,
+but she am dead, so I tries to wait for old Gabriel blow he horn. When
+he blow he)
+
+Page 141: 1959 ("When I's a gal, I's Rosina Slaughter, but folks call me
+Zina. Yes, sar. It am Zina dat and Zina dis. I says I's born April 9,
+#1859#, but I 'lieve I's older. It was somewhere in Williamson County,
+but I don't)
+
+Page 145: mercy me (when we got a chance to see young folks on some
+other place. The patterrollers cotched me one night and, Lawd have
+#mercy on me#, they stretches me over a log and hits thirty-nine licks
+with a rawhide loaded with rock, and every time they hit)
+
+Page 147: ot ("I's farmed and makin' a livin' is 'bout all. I come over
+here in Madison County and rents from B.F. Young, clost #to# Midway and
+gits me a few cows. I been right round here ever since. I lives round
+with my chillen now,)
+
+Page 158: Whnen ("#When# surrender come massa calls all us in de yard
+and makes de talk. He tells us we's free and am awful sorry and show
+great worryment. He say)
+
+Page 166: live (is cared for by a married daughter, who #lives# on
+Lizzie's farm.)
+
+Page 171: nand (to tell the people to be prepared, 'cause the tides of
+war is rollin' this way, #and# all the thousands of millions of dollars
+they spend agin it ain't goin' to stop it. I live to tell people the
+word Gawd speaks through me.)
+
+Page 195: wuarters ('bout fightin' and the overseer allus tended to her.
+One day he come to the #quarters# to whip her and she up and throwed a
+shovel full of live coals from the fireplace in his bosom and run out
+the door. He run her all over)
+
+Page 199: tann ("After breakfast I'd see a crew go here and a crew go
+dere. Some of 'em spin and weave and make clothes, and some #tan# de
+leather or do de blacksmith work, and mos' of 'em go out in de field to
+work. Dey works till dark and den)
+
+Page 200: botin' ("No, I's never voted, 'cause I done heared 'bout de
+trouble dey has over in Baton Rouge 'bout niggers #votin'#. I jus' don't
+like trouble, and for de few years what am left, I's gwine keep de
+record of stayin' 'way from it.)
+
+Page 221: be ("Old massa he never clean hisself up or dress up. He look
+like a vagrant thing and #he# and missy mean, too. My pore daddy he back
+allus done cut up from the whip and bit by the dogs. Sometime when a
+woman big)
+
+Page 235: stockn's (and I come in with two li'l pickininnies for flower
+gals and holdin' my train. I has on one Miss Ellen's dresses and red
+#stockin's# and a pair brand new shoes and a wide brim hat. De preacher
+say, 'Bill, does you take dis woman to be you lawful)
+
+Page 236: dey (jes' kep' right on livin' in de old home after freedom,
+like old Marse done 'fore freedom. He pay de families by de #day# for
+work and let dem work land on de halves and furnish dem teams and grub
+and dey does de work.)
+
+Page 242: iplot ("My daddy am de gold #pilot# on de old place. Dat mean
+anything he done was right and proper. Way after freedom, when my daddy
+die in Beaumont,)
+
+Page 254: wat ("I never heered much 'bout no #war# and Marse Greenville
+never told us we was free. First I knows was one day we gwine to de
+fields and a man)
+
+Page 258: Bermingham ("My company am moved to #Birmingham# and builds
+breastworks. Dey say Gen. Lee am comin' for a battle but he didn't ever
+come and when I been back)
+
+Page 258: to (a three hundred pound hawg in de pen, what die from de
+heat. We done run to Massa Rodger's house. De riders gits #so# bad dey
+come most any time and run de cullud folks off for no cause, jus' to be
+orn'ry and plunder de home. But one)
+
+Page 273: coudn't (through a crack and pull the calf's head down nearly
+to the ground where he #couldn't# suck. Of course, the old cow would
+hang around right close)
+
+Page 278: McNeely ("I was in the Ranger service for about a year with
+Captain #McNelly#, or until he died. I was his guide. I was living
+thirty-five miles)
+
+Page 287: whay (have the big mole on the inside her mouth and when she
+shake her finger at you it gwine happen to you jes' like she say. That
+#what# they call puttin' bad mouth on them and she sho' could do it.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: a Folk History of
+Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves., by Work Projects Administration
+
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+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+<title> The Project Gutenberg eBook of Slave Narratives, A Folk History of
+Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves. Texas,
+Part 2. </title>
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery
+in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves., by Work Projects Administration
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves.
+       Texas Narratives, Part 2
+
+Author: Work Projects Administration
+
+Release Date: January 14, 2010 [EBook #30967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES, TEXAS, PART 2 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Miranda van de Heijning and The Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="trnote">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left"> <h2>Transcriber's Note:</h2></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> I. Inconsistent punctuation and duplicated phrases have been silently corrected throughout the book.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> II. Clear spelling mistakes have been corrected however,
+inconsistent languague usage (such as 'day' and 'dey')
+has been maintained. A list of spelling corrections is included
+at the <a href="#Transcribers_Corrections">end of the book</a>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> III. The numbers at the start of each chapter were stamped
+ into the original scan and refer to the number of the published
+interview in the context of the entire Slave Narratives
+project.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> IV. Several handwritten notes have been retained and are
+annotated as such.</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<h1>SLAVE NARRATIVES</h1>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Folk History of Slavery in the United States
+From Interviews with Former Slaves</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center">TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY<br />
+THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT<br />
+1936-1938<br />
+ASSEMBLED BY<br />
+THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT<br />
+WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION<br />
+FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA<br />
+SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>Illustrated with Photographs</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center">WASHINGTON 1941</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<p class="center">VOLUME XVI</p>
+
+
+<h2>TEXAS NARRATIVES</h2>
+
+<h3>PART 2</h3>
+
+
+<p class="center">Prepared by
+the Federal Writers' Project of
+the Works Progress Administration
+for the State of Texas
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="INFORMANTS" id="INFORMANTS"></a>INFORMANTS</h2>
+
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">Easter, Willis</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Edwards, Anderson and Minerva</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Edwards, Ann J.</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Edwards, Mary Kincheon</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Elder, Lucinda</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ellis, John</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ezell, Lorenza <br /><br /></td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_25">25</a><br /><br /></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Farrow, Betty</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Finnely, John</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ford, Sarah</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Forward, Millie</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Fowler, Louis</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Franklin, Chris</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Franks, Orelia Alexie</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Frazier, Rosanna<br /><br /></td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_63">63</a><br /><br /></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Gibson, Priscilla</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Gilbert, Gabriel</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Gilmore, Mattie</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Goodman, Andrew</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Grant, Austin</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Green, James</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Green, O.W.</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Green, Rosa</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Green, William (Rev. Bill)</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Grice, Pauline<br /><br /></td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_98">98</a><br /><br /></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hadnot, Mandy</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hamilton, William</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Harper, Pierce</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Harrell, Molly</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hawthorne, Ann</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hayes, James</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Haywood, Felix</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Henderson, Phoebe</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hill, Albert</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hoard, Rosina</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Holland, Tom</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Holman, Eliza</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Holt, Larnce</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Homer, Bill</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hooper, Scott</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Houston, Alice</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Howard, Josephine</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hughes, Lizzie</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hursey, Moses</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Hurt, Charley<br /><br /></td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /><br /></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ingram, Wash<br /><br /></td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_177">177</a><br /><br /></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jackson, Carter J.</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jackson, James</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jackson, Maggie</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jackson, Martin</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jackson, Nancy</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jackson, Richard</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">James, John</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Johns, Thomas</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Johns, Mrs. Thomas</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Johnson, Gus</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Johnson, Harry</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Johnson, James D.</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Johnson, Mary</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Johnson, Mary Ellen</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Johnson, Pauline, and Boudreaux, Felice</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Johnson, Spence</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jones, Harriet</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jones, Lewis</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jones, Liza</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jones, Lizzie</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Jones, Toby<br /><br /></td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_249">249</a><br /><br /></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Kelly, Pinkie</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Kilgore, Sam</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Kinchlow, Ben</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Kindred, Mary</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">King, Nancy</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_288">288</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">King, Silvia</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_290">290</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="left">Facing page</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Anderson and Minerva Edwards</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ann J. Edwards</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Mary Kincheon Edwards</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">John Ellis</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Lorenza Ezell</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Betty Farrow</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Sarah Ford</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Louis Fowler</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Orelia Alexie Franks</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Priscilla Gibson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Andrew Goodman</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Austin Grant</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">James Green</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">O.W. Green and Granddaughter</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">William Green, (Rev. Bill)</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Pauline Grice</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Mandy Hadnot</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">William Hamilton</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Felix Haywood</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Phoebe Henderson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Albert Hill</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Eliza Holman</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Bill Homer</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Scott Hooper</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Alice Houston</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Moses Hursey</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Charley Hurt</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Wash Ingram</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Carter J. Jackson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">James Jackson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Martin Jackson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Richard Jackson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">John James</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Gus Johnson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">James D. Johnson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Mary Ellen Johnson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Pauline Johnson and Felice Boudreaux</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Spence Johnson</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Harriet Jones</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Harriet Jones with Daughter and Granddaughter</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Lewis Jones</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Lizzie Jones</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Sam Kilgore</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ben Kinchlow</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Mary Kindred</td><td align="left"><a href="#Page_290">290</a><a name="TC_1" id="TC_1"></a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420285" id="n420285"></a>420285<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>WILLIS EASTER, 85, was born
+near Nacogdoches, Texas. He
+does not know the name of his
+first master. Frank Sparks
+brought Willis to Bosqueville,
+Texas, when he was two years
+old. Willis believes firmly
+in "conjuremen" and ghosts,
+and wears several charms for
+protection against the former.
+He lives in Waco, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I's birthed below Nacogdoches, and dey tells me it am
+on March 19th, in 1852. My mammy had some kind of paper what say dat.
+But I don't know my master, 'cause when I's two he done give me to
+Marse Frank Sparks and he brung me to Bosqueville. Dat sizeable place
+dem days. My mammy come 'bout a month after, 'cause Marse Frank, he say
+I's too much trouble without my mammy.</p>
+
+<p>"Mammy de bes' cook in de county and a master hand at spinnin'
+and weavin'. She made her own dye. Walnut and elm makes red dye and
+walnut brown color, and shumake makes black color. When you wants yallow
+color, git cedar moss out de brake.</p>
+
+<p>"All de lint was picked by hand on our place. It a slow job to git
+dat lint out de cotton and I's gone to sleep many a night, settin' by de
+fire, pickin' lint. In bad weather us sot by de fire and pick lint and
+patch harness and shoes, or whittle out something, dishes and bowls and
+troughs and traps and spoons.</p>
+
+<p>"All us chillen weared lowel white duckin', homemake, jes' one
+garment. It was de long shirt. You couldn't tell gals from boys on de yard.</p>
+
+<p>"I's twelve when us am freed and for awhile us lived on Marse Bob
+Wortham's place, on Chalk Bluff, on Horseshoe Bend. After de freedom war,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>
+dat old Brazos River done change its course up 'bove de bend, and move to
+de west.</p>
+
+<p>"I marries Nancy Clark in 1879, but no chilluns. Dere plenty deer
+and bears and wild turkeys and antelopes here den. Dey's sho' fine eatin'
+and wish I could stick a tooth in one now. I's seed fifty antelope at a
+waterin' hole.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere plenty Indians, too. De Rangers had de time keepin' dem back.
+Dey come in bright of de moon and steals and kills de stock. Dere a ferry
+'cross de Brazos and Capt. Ross run it. He sho' fit dem Indians.</p>
+
+<p>"Dem days everybody went hossback and de roads was jes' trails and
+bridges was poles 'cross de creeks. One day us went to a weddin'. Dey sot
+de dinner table out in de yard under a big tree and de table was a big slab
+of a tree on legs. Dey had pewter plates and spoons and chiny bowls and
+wooden dishes. Some de knives and forks was make out of bone. Dey had beef
+and pork and turkey and <a name='TC_2'></a><ins title="come">some</ins> antelope.</p>
+
+<p>"I knows 'bout ghostes. First, I tells you a funny story. A old man
+named Josh, he purty old and notionate. Every evenin' he squat down under
+a oak tree. Marse Smith, he slip up and hear Josh prayin, 'Oh, Gawd, please
+take pore old Josh home with you.' Next day, Marse Smith wrop heself in a
+sheet and git in de oak tree. Old Josh come 'long and pray, 'Oh, Gawd,
+please come take pore old Josh home with you.' Marse say from top de tree,
+'Poor Josh, I's come to take you home with me.' Old Josh, he riz up and
+seed dat white shape in de tree, and he yell, 'Oh, Lawd, not right now,
+I hasn't git forgive for all my sins.' Old Josh, he jes' shakin' and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>
+dusts out dere faster den a wink. Dat broke up he prayin' under dat tree.</p>
+
+<p>"I never studied cunjurin', but I knows dat scorripins and things dey
+cunjures with am powerful medicine. Dey uses hair and fingernails and tacks
+and dry insects and worms and bat wings and sech. Mammy allus tie a leather
+string round de babies' necks when dey teethin', to make dem have easy time.
+She used a dry frog or piece nutmeg, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Mammy allus tell me to keep from bein' cunjure, I sing:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Keep 'way from me, hoodoo and witch,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lend my path from de porehouse gate;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I pines for golden harps and sich,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lawd, I'll jes' set down and wait.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Satan am a liar and cunjurer, too&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you don't watch out, he'll cunjure you.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Dem cunjuremen sho' bad. Dey make you have pneumony and boils and bad
+luck. I carries me a jack all de time. It em de charm wrop in red flannel.
+Don't know what am in it. A bossman, he fix it for me.</p>
+
+<p>"I sho' can find water for de well. I got a li'l tree limb what am like
+a V. I driv de nail in de end of each branch and in de crotch. I takes hold
+of each branch and iffen I walks over water in de ground, dat limb gwine turn
+over in my hand till it points to de ground. Iffen money am buried, you can
+find it de same way.</p>
+
+<p>"Iffen you fills a shoe with salt and burns it, dat call luck to you.
+I wears a dime on a string round de neck and one round de ankle. Dat to keep
+any conjureman from sottin' de trick on ma. Dat dime be bright iffen my
+friends am true. It sho' gwine git dark iffen dey does me wrong.</p>
+
+<p>"For to make a jack dat am sho' good, git snakeroot and sassafras and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>
+a li'l lodestone and brimstone and asafoetida and resin and bluestone and gum
+arabic and a pod or two red pepper. Put dis in de red flannel bag, at midnight
+on de dark of de moon, and it sho' do de work.</p>
+
+<p>"I knowed a ghost house, I sho' did. Everybody knowed it, a red brick
+house in Waco, on Thirteenth and Washington St. Dey calls it de Bell house.
+It sho' a fine, big house, but folks couldn't use it. De white folks what owns
+it, dey gits one nigger and 'nother to stay round and look after things. De
+white folks wants me to stay dere. I goes. Every Friday night dere am a rustlin'
+sound, like murmur of treetops, all through dat house. De shutters rattles&mdash;only
+dere ain't no shutters on dem windows. Jes' plain as anything, I hears a
+chair, rockin', rockin'. Footsteps, soft as de breath, you could hear dem plain.
+But I stays and hunts and can't find nobody nor nothin' none of dem Friday nights.</p>
+
+<p>"Den come de Friday night on de las' quarter de moon. Long 'bout midnight,
+something lift me out de cot. I heared a li'l child sobbin', and dat rocker git
+started, and de shutters dey rattle softlike, and dat rustlin', mournin' sound
+all through dat house. I takes de lantern and out in de hall I goes. Right by de
+foot de stairs I seed a woman, <a name='TC_3'></a><ins title="bit">big</ins> as life, but she was thin and I seed right
+through her. She jes' walk on down dat hall and pay me no mind. She make de sound
+like de beatin' of wings. I jes' froze. I couldn't move.</p>
+
+<p>"Dat woman jes' melted out de window at de end of de hall, and I left dat
+place!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420054" id="n420054"></a>420054</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 458px;"> <a href="images/162005v.png">
+<img src="images/162005r.png" width="458" height="300" alt="Anderson and Minerva Edwards" title="" /> </a>
+<span class="caption">Anderson and Minerva Edwards</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ANDERSON AND MINERVA EDWARDS,
+a Negro Baptist preacher and
+his wife, were slaves on adjoining
+plantations in Rusk
+County, Texas. Anderson was
+born March 12, 1844, a slave
+of Major Matt Gaud, and Minerva
+was born February 2, 1850,
+a slave of Major Flannigan. As
+a boy Andrew would get a pass
+to visit his father, who belonged
+to Major Flannigan, and there
+he met Minerva. They worked for
+their masters until three years
+after the war, then moved to
+Harrison County, married and
+reared sixteen children. Andrew
+and Minerva live in a small but
+comfortable farmhouse two miles
+north of Marshall. Minerva's
+memory is poor, and she added
+little to Anderson's story.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My father was Sandy Flannigan and he had run off from his
+first master in Maryland, on the east shore, and come to Texas, and
+here a slave buyer picked him up and sold chances on him. If they
+could find his Maryland master he'd have to go back to him and if
+they couldn't the chances was good. Wash Edwards in Panola County
+bought the chance on him, but he run off from him, too, and come to
+Major Flannigan's in Rusk County. Fin'ly Major Flannigan had to pay
+a good lot to get clear title to him.</p>
+
+<p>"My mammy was named Minerva and her master was Major Gaud, and
+I was born there on his plantation in 1866. You can ask that tax man
+at Marshall 'bout my age, 'cause he's fix my 'xemption papers since
+I'm sixty. I had seven brothers and two sisters. There was Frank,
+Joe, Sandy and Gene, Preston and William and Sarah and Delilah, and
+they all lived to be old folks and the younges' jus' died last year.
+Folks was more healthy when I growed up and I'm 93 now and ain't dead;
+fact is, I feels right pert mos' the time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My missy named Mary and she and Massa Matt lived in a hewed log house
+what am still standin' out there near Henderson. Our quarters was 'cross the
+road and set all in a row. Massa own three fam'lies of slaves and lots of
+hosses and sheep and cows and my father herded for him till he was freed. The
+government run a big tan yard there on Major Gaud's place and one my uncles
+was shoemaker. Jus' 'bout time of war, I was piddlin' 'round the tannery
+and a government man say to me, 'Boy, I'll give you $1,000 for a drink of water,'
+and he did, but it was 'federate money that got kilt, so it done me no good.</p>
+
+<p>"Mammy was a weaver and made all the clothes and massa give us plenty
+to eat; fact, he treated us kind-a like he own boys. Course he whipped us
+when we had to have it, but not like I seed darkies whipped on other place.
+The other niggers called us Major Gaud's free niggers and we could hear 'em
+moanin' and cryin' round 'bout, when they was puttin' it on 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"I worked in the field from one year end to t'other and when we come
+in at dusk we had to eat and be in bed by nine. Massa give us mos' anything
+he had to eat, 'cept biscuits. That ash cake wasn't sich bad eatin' and it
+was cooked by puttin' cornmeal batter in shucks and bakin' in the ashes.</p>
+
+<p>"We didn't work in the field Sunday but they have so much stock to tend
+it kep' us busy. Missy was 'ligious and allus took us to church when she
+could. When we prayed by ourse'ves we daren't let the white folks know it
+and we turned a wash pot down to the ground to cotch the voice. We prayed a
+lot to be free and the Lord done heered us. We didn't have no song books and
+the Lord done give us our songs and when we sing them at night it jus' whispering
+to nobody hear us. One went like this:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>
+"'My knee bones am aching,<br />
+My body's rackin' with pain,<br />
+I 'lieve I'm a chile of God,<br />
+And this ain't my home,<br />
+'Cause Heaven's my aim.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Gaud give big corn shuckin's and cotton pickin's
+and the women cook up big dinners and massa give us some whiskey, and lots
+of times we shucked all night. On Saturday nights we'd sing and dance and
+we made our own instruments, which was gourd fiddles and quill flutes.
+Gen'rally Christmas was like any other day, but I got Santa Claus twict in
+slavery, 'cause massa give me a sack of molasses candy once and some biscuits
+once and that <a name='TC_4'></a><ins title="was that a">was a</ins> whole lot to me then.</p>
+
+<p>"The Vinsons and Frys what lived next to massa sold slaves
+and I seed 'em sold and chained together and druv off in herds by a white
+man on a hoss. They'd sell babies 'way from the mammy and the Lord never
+did 'tend sich as that.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'lieve in that hant business yet. I seed one when I was a
+boy, right after mammy die. I woke up and seed it come in the door, and it
+had a body and legs and tail and a face like a man and it walked to the fireplace
+and lifted the lid off a skillet of 'taters what sot there and came to
+my bed and raised up the cover and crawled in and I hollers so loud it wakes
+everybody. I tell 'em I seed a ghost and they say I crazy, but I guess I
+knows a hant when I sees one. Minerva there can tell you 'bout that haunted
+house we lived in near Marshall jus' after we's married." (Minerva says,
+'Deed, I can,' and here is her story:)</p>
+
+<p>"The nex' year after Anderson and me marries we moves to a
+place that had 'longed to white folks and the man was real mean and choked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>
+his wife to death and he lef' the country and we moved in. We heered
+peculiar noises by night and the niggers 'round there done told us it
+was hanted but I didn't 'lieve 'em, but I do now. One night we seed the
+woman what died come all 'round with a light in the hand and the neighbors
+said that candle light the house all over and it look like it on fire.
+She come ev'ry night and we left our crop and moved 'way from there and
+ain't gone back yit to gather that crop. 'Fore we moved in that place
+been empty since the woman die, 'cause nobody live there. One night
+Charlie Williams, what lives in Marshall, and runs a store out by the
+T. &amp; P. Hospital git drunk and goes out there to sleep and while he sleepin'
+that same woman come in and nigh choked him to death. Ain't nobody
+ever live in that house since we is there."</p>
+
+<p>Anderson then resumed his story: "I 'member when war starts and
+massa's boy, George it was, saddles up ole Bob, his pony, and lef'. He
+stays six months and when he rid up massa say, 'How's the war, George?'
+and massa George say, 'It's Hell. Me and Bob has been runnin' Yankees
+ever since us lef'.' 'Fore war massa didn't never say much 'bout slavery
+but when he heered us free he cusses and say, 'Gawd never did 'tend
+to free niggers,' and he cussed till he died. But he didn't tell us we's
+free till a whole year after we was, but one day a bunch of Yankee soldiers
+come ridin' up and massa and missy hid out. The soldiers walked into the
+kitchen and mammy was churnin' and one of them kicks the churn over and
+say, 'Git out, you's jus' as free as I is.' Then they ramsacked the place
+and breaks out all the window lights and when they leaves it look like a
+storm done hit that house. Massa come back from hidin' and that when he
+starts on a cussin' spree what lasts as long as he lives.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'bout four year after that war pappy took me to Harrison
+County and I've lived here ever, since and Minerva's pappy moves from
+the Flannigan place to a jinin' farm 'bout that time and sev'ral years
+later we was married. It was at her house and she had a blue serge suit
+and I wore a cutaway Prince Albert suit and they was 'bout 200 folks at
+our weddin'. The nex' day they give us an infair and a big dinner.
+We raises sixteen chillen to be growed and six of the boys is still
+livin' and workin' in Marshall.</p>
+
+<p>"I been preachin' the Gospel and farmin' since slavery time.
+I jined the church mos' 83 year ago when I was Major Gaud's slave and
+they baptises me in the spring branch clost to where I finds the Lord.
+When I starts preachin' I couldn't read or write and had to preach what
+massa told me and he say tell them niggers iffen they obeys the massa
+they goes to Heaven but I knowed there's something better for them, but
+daren't tell them 'cept on the sly. That I done lots. I tells 'em iffen
+they <a name='TC_5'></a><ins title="kepps">keeps</ins> prayin' the Lord will set 'em free. But since them days I's
+done studied some and I preached all over Panola and Harrison County and
+I started the Edward's Chapel over there in Marshall and pastored it till
+a few year ago. It's named for me.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't preach much now, 'cause I can't hold out to walk far
+and I got no other way to go. We has a $14.00 pension and lives on that
+and what we can raise on the farm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420219" id="n420219"></a>420219</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 177px;"> <a href="images/162010v.png">
+<img src="images/162010r.png" width="177" height="300" alt="Ann J. Edwards" title="" /> </a>
+<span class="caption">Ann J. Edwards</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ANN J. EDWARDS, 81, was born
+a slave of John Cook, of Arlington
+County, Virginia. He manumitted
+his slaves in 1857. Four
+years later Ann was adopted by
+Richard H. Cain, a colored preacher.
+He was elected to the 45th
+Congress in 1876, and remained
+in Washington, D.C., until his
+death, in 1887. Ann married Jas.
+E. Edwards, graduate of Howard
+College, a preacher. She now
+lives with her granddaughter,
+Mary Foster, at 804 E. 4th St.,
+Fort Worth, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I shall gladly relate the story of my life. I was born a slave
+on January 27th, 1856, and my master's name was John J. Cook, who was a
+resident of Arlington County, Virginia. He moved to Washington, D.C.,
+when I was nearly two years old and immediately gave my parents their
+freedom. They separated within a year after that, and my mother earned
+our living, working as a hairdresser until her death in 1861. I was
+then adopted by Richard H. Cain, a minister of the Gospel in the African
+Methodist Church.</p>
+
+<p>"I remember the beginning of the war well. The conditions made
+a deep impression on my mind, and the atmosphere of Washington was charged
+with excitement and expectations. There existed considerable need for
+assistance to the Negroes who had escaped after the war began, and Rev.
+Cain took a leading part in rendering aid to them. They came into the
+city without clothes or money and no idea of how to secure employment.
+A large number were placed on farms, some given employment as domestics
+and still others mustered into the Federal Army.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The city was one procession of men in blue and the air was full of
+martial music. The fife and drum could be heard almost all the time, so you
+may imagine what emotions a colored person of my age would experience, especially
+as father's church was a center for congregating the Negroes and advising
+them. That was a difficult task, because a large majority were illiterate
+and ignorant.</p>
+
+<p>"The year father was called to Charleston, South Carolina, to take
+charge of a church, we became the center of considerable trouble. It was right
+after the close of the war. In addition to his ministerial duties, father
+managed a newspaper and became interested in politics. He was elected a delegate
+to the Constitutional Convention of South Carolina in 1868. He was also elected
+a Republican member of the State Senate and served from 1868 to 1872. Then he
+became the Republican candidate for the United States Representative of the
+Charleston district, was elected and served in the 45th Congress from March 4,
+1877 to March 3, 1879.</p>
+
+<p>"You can imagine the bitter conflict his candidacy brought on. A Negro
+running for public office against a white person in a Southern state that was
+strong for slavery does not seem the sensible thing for a man to do, but he did
+and was, of course, successful. From the moment he became delegate to the Constitutional
+Convention a guard was necessary night and day to watch our home.
+He was compelled to have a bodyguard wherever he went. We, his family, lived
+in constant fear at all times. Many times mother pleaded with him to cease his
+activities, but her pleadings were of no avail.</p>
+
+<p>"In the beginning the resentment was not so pronounced. The white people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
+were shocked and dejected over the outcome of the war, but gradually recovered.
+As they did, determination to establish order and prosperity developed, and
+they resented the Negro taking part in public affairs. On the other side of
+the cause was the excess and obstinate actions of some ignorant Negroes, acting
+under ill advice. Father was trying to prevent excesses being done by either
+side. He realized that the slaves were unfit, at that time, to take their place
+as dependable citizens, for the want of experience and wisdom, and that there
+would have to be mental development and wisdom learned by his race, and that
+such would only come by a gradual process.</p>
+
+<p>"He entered the contest in the interest of his own race, primarily,
+but as a whole, to do justice to all. No one could change his course. He
+often stated, 'It is by the Divine will that I am in this battle.'</p>
+
+<p>"The climax of the resentment against him took place when he was chosen
+Republican candidate to the House of Representatives. He had to maintain an
+armed guard at all times. Several times, despite these guards, attempts were
+made to either burn the house or injure some member of the family. If it had
+not been for the fact that the officials of the city and county were afraid
+of the federal government, which gave aid in protecting him, the mob would
+have succeeded in harming him.</p>
+
+<p>"A day or two before election a mob gathered suddenly in front of the
+house, and we all thought the end had come. Father sent us all upstairs, and
+said he would, if necessary, give himself up to the mob and let them satisfy
+their vengeance on him, to save the rest of us.</p>
+
+<p>"While he was talking, mother noticed another body of men in the alley.
+They were certainly sinister looking. Father told us to prepare for the worst,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
+saying, 'What they plan to do is for those in front to engage the attention of
+ourselves and the guard, then those in the rear will fire the place and force
+us out.' He was calm throughout it all, but mother was greatly agitated and
+I was crying.</p>
+
+<p>"The chief of the guard called father for a parley. The mob leader
+demanded that father come out for a talk. Then the sheriff and deputies appeared
+and he addressed the crowd of men, and told them if harm came to us the city
+would be placed under martial law. The men then dispersed, after some discussion
+among themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"Father moved to Washington, took the oath of office and served until
+March 4th, 1879. He then received the appointment of Bishop of the African
+Methodist Church and served until his death in Washington, on Jan. 18th, 1887.</p>
+
+<p>"I began my schooling in Charleston and continued in Washington, where
+I entered Howard College, but did not continue until graduation. I met James
+E. Edwards, another student, who graduated in 1881, and my heart overruled my
+desire for an education. We married and he entered the ministry and was called
+to Dallas, Texas. He remained two years, then we were called to Los Angeles.
+The Negroes there were privileged to enter public eating establishments, but
+a cafe owner we patronized told us the following:</p>
+
+<p>"'After a time, I was compelled to refuse service to Negroes because they
+abused the privilege. They came in in a boisterous manner and crowded and
+shoved other patrons. It was due to a lack of wisdom and education.'</p>
+
+<p>"That was true. The white people tried to give the Negro his rights
+and he abused the privilege because he was ignorant, a condition he could not
+then help.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My husband and I were called to Kansas City in 1896 and from there
+to many other towns. Finally we came to Waco, and he had charge of a church
+there when he died, in 1927. We had a pleasant married life and I tried to
+do my duty as a pastor's wife and help elevate my race. We were blessed with
+three children, and the only one now living is in Boston, Massachusetts.</p>
+
+<p>"I now reside with my granddaughter, Mary Foster, and this shack is
+the best her husband can afford. In fact, we are living in destitute circumstances.
+It is depressing to me, after having lived a life in a comfortable
+home. It is the Lord's will and I must accept what is provided. There is a
+purpose for all things. I shall soon go to meet my Maker, with the satisfaction
+of having done my duty&mdash;first, to my race, second, to mankind.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="intro"><p>Note: The biography of Richard H. Cain is published in the Biographical
+Directory of the American Congress.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420008" id="n420008"></a>420008</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 181px;"><a href="images/162015v.png">
+<img src="images/162015r.png" width="181" height="300" alt="Mary Kincheon Edwards" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Mary Kincheon Edwards</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MARY KINCHEON EDWARDS says
+she was born on July 8, 1810,
+but she has nothing to substantiate
+this claim. However,
+she is evidently very
+old. Her memory is poor, but
+she knows she was reared by
+the Kincheons, in Baton Rouge,
+Louisiana, and that she spoke
+French when a child. The Kincheons
+gave her to Felix Vaughn,
+who brought her to Texas before
+the Civil War. Mary lives with
+Beatrice Watters, near Austin,
+Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"When I's a li'l gal my name Mary Anne Kincheon and I's born
+on the eighth of July, in 1810. I lives with de Kincheon family over
+in Louisiana. Baton Rouge am de name of dat place. Dem Kincheons have
+plenty chillen. O, dey have so many chillen!</p>
+
+<p>"I don't 'member much 'bout dem days. I's done forgot so many
+things, but I 'members how de stars fell and how scared us was. Dem
+stars got to fallin' and was out 'fore dey hits de ground. I don't
+knew when dat was, but I's good size den.</p>
+
+<p>"I get give to Massa Felix Vaughn and he brung me to Texas.
+Dat long 'fore de war for freedom, but I don't know de year. De most
+work I done for de Vaughns was wet nuss de baby son, what name Elijah.
+His mammy jes' didn't have 'nough milk for him.</p>
+
+<p>"Den I knit de socks and wash de clothes and sometimes I work
+in de fields. I he'ped make de baskets for de cotton. De man git white-oak
+wood and we lets it stay in de water for de night and de nex' mornin'
+and it soft and us split it in strips for makin' of de baskets. Everybody
+try see who could make de bes' basket.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Us pick 'bout 100 pound cotton in one basket. I didn't mind
+pickin' cotton, 'cause I never did have de backache. I pick two and
+three hunnert pounds a day and one day I picked 400. Sometime de prize
+give by massa to de slave what pick de most. De prize am a big cake
+or some clothes. Pickin' cotton not so bad, 'cause us used to it and
+have de fine time of it. I gits a dress one day and a pair shoes
+'nother day for pickin' most. I so fast I take two rows at de time.</p>
+
+<p>"De women brung oil cloths to de fields, so dey make shady place
+for de chillen to sleep, but dem what big 'nough has to pick. Sometime
+dey sing</p>
+
+<p>
+"'O&mdash;ho, I's gwine home,<br />
+And cuss de old overseer.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Us have ash-hopper and uses drip-lye for make barrels soap and
+hominy. De way us test de lye am drap de egg in it and if de egg float
+de lye ready to put in de grease for makin' de soap. Us throwed greasy
+bones in de lye and dat make de bes' soap. De lye eat de bones.</p>
+
+<p>"Us boil wild sage and make tea and it smell good. It good for
+de fever and chills. Us git slippery elm out de bottom and chew it.
+Some chew it for bad feelin's and some jes' to be chewin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes us go to dances and missy let me wear some her jewl'ry.
+I out dances dem all and folks didn't know dat not my jewl'ry. After freedom
+I stays with de Vaughns and marries, but I forgit he name. Dat 'fore
+freedom. After freedom I marries Osburn Edwards and has five chillen. Dey
+all dead now. I can still git 'round with dis old gnarly cane. Jes' you
+git me good and scared and see how fast I can git 'round!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420266" id="n420266"></a>420266</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>LUCINDA ELDER, 86, was born a
+slave of the Cardwell family,
+near Concord Deport, Virginia.
+She came to Texas with Will
+Jones and his wife, Miss Susie,
+in 1860, and was their nurse-girl
+until she married Will
+Elder, in 1875. Lucinda lives
+at 1007 Edwards St., Houston,
+Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"You chilluns all go 'way now, while I talks to dis gen'man.
+I 'clares to goodness, chilluns nowadays ain't got no manners 'tall.
+'Tain't like when I was li'l, dey larnt you manners and you larnt to
+mind, too. Nowadays you tell 'em to do somethin' and you is jes'
+wastin' you breath, 'less you has a stick right handy. Dey is my
+great grandchilluns, and dey sho' is spoilt. Maybe I ain't got no
+patience no more, like I use to have, 'cause dey ain't so bad.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, suh, you all wants me to tell you 'bout slave times, and
+I'll tell you first dat I had mighty good white folks, and I hope dey
+is gone up to Heaven. My mama 'long to Marse John Cardwell, what I
+hear was de riches' man and had de bigges' plantation round Concord
+Depot. Dat am in Campbell County, in Virginny. I don't 'member old
+missy's name, but she mighty good to de slaves, jes' like Marse John
+was.</p>
+
+<p>"Mama's name was Isabella and she was de cook and born right on
+de plantation. Papa's name was Gibson, his first name was Jim, and he
+'long to Marse Gibson what had a plantation next to Marse John, and I
+knows papa come to see mama on Wednesday and Sat'day nights.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Lemme see, now, dere was six of us chilluns. My mem'ry ain't so good
+no more, but Charley was oldes', den come Dolly and Jennie and Susie and me
+and Laura. Law me, I guess old Dr. Bass, what was doctor for Marse John,
+use to be right busy with us 'bout once a year for quite a spell.</p>
+
+<p>"Dem times dey don't marry by no license. Dey takes a slave man and
+woman from de same plantation and puts 'em together, or sometime a man from
+'nother plantation, like my papa and mama. Mamma say Marse John give 'em a
+big supper in de big house and read out de Bible 'bout obeyin' and workin' and
+den dey am married. Course, de nigger jes' a slave and have to do what de
+white folks say, so dat way of marryin' 'bout good as any.</p>
+
+<p>"But Marse John sho' was de good marse and we had plenty to eat and wear
+and no one ever got whipped. Marse John say iffen he have a nigger what oughta
+be whipped, he'd git rid of him quick, 'cause a bad nigger jes' like a rotten
+'tater in a sack of good ones&mdash;it spoil de others.</p>
+
+<p>"Back dere in Virginny it sho' git cold in winter, but come September
+de wood gang git busy cuttin' wood and haulin' it to de yard. Dey makes two
+piles, one for de big house and de bigges' pile for de slaves. When dey git
+it all hauled it look like a <a name='TC_6'></a><ins title="bit">big</ins> woodyard. While dey is haulin', de women make
+quilts and dey is wool quilts. Course, dey ain't made out of shearin' wool,
+but jes' as good. Marse John have lots of sheep and when dey go through de
+briar patch de wool cotch on dem briars and in de fall de women folks goes out
+and picks de wool off de briars jes' like you picks cotton. Law me, I don't
+know nothin' 'bout makin' quilts out of cotton till I comes to Texas.</p>
+
+<p>"Course I never done no work, 'cause Marse John won't work no one till dey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+is fifteen years old. Den dey works three hours a day and dat all. Dey don't
+work full time till dey's eighteen. We was jes' same as free niggers on our place.
+He gives each slave a piece of ground to make de crop on and buys de stuff hisself.
+We growed snap beans and corn and plant on a light moon, or turnips and onions
+we plant on de dark moon.</p>
+
+<p>"When I gits old 'nough Marse John lets me take he daughter, Nancy Lee,
+to school. It am twelve miles and de yard man hitches up old Bess to de buggy
+and we gits in and no one in dat county no prouder dan what I was.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse John lets us go visit other plantations and no pass, neither. Iffen
+de patterroller stop us, we jes' say we 'long to Marse John and dey don't bother us
+none. Iffen dey comes to our cabin from other plantations, dey has to show de patterroller
+de pass, and iffen dey slipped off and ain't got none, de patterroller
+sho' give a whippin' den. But dey waits till dey off our place, 'cause Marse John
+won't 'low no whippin' on our place by no one.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, things was jes' 'bout de same all de time till jes' 'fore freedom.
+Course, I hears some talk 'bout bluebellies, what dey call de Yanks, fightin' our
+folks, but dey wasn't fightin' round us. Den one dey mamma took <a name='TC_7'></a><ins title="sich">sick</ins> and she had
+hear talk and call me to de bed and say, 'Lucinda, we all gwine be free soon and not
+work 'less we git paid for it.' She sho' was right, 'cause Marse John calls all us
+to de cookhouse and reads de freedom papers to us and tells us we is all free, but iffen
+we wants to stay he'll give us land to make a crop and he'll feed us. Now I tells you
+de truth, dey wasn't no one leaves, 'cause we all loves Marse John.</p>
+
+<p>"Den, jus' three weeks after freedom mama dies and dat how come me to leave
+Marse John. You see, Marse Gibson what owns papa 'fore freedom, was a good marse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
+and when papa was sot free Marse Gibson gives him some land to farm. 'Course,
+papa was gwine have us all with him, but when mamma dies, Marse Gibson tell him Mr.
+Will Jones and Miss Susie, he wife, want a nurse girl for de chilluns, so papa
+hires me out to 'em and I want to say right now, dey jes' as good white folks as
+Marse John and Old Missy, and sho' treated me good.</p>
+
+<p>"Law me, I never won't forgit one day. Mr. Will say, 'Lucinda, we is gwine
+drive you over to Appomatox and take de chilluns and you can come, too.' Course,
+I was tickled mos' to pieces but he didn't tell what he gwine for. You know what?
+To see a nigger hung. I gettin' long mighty old now, but I won't never forgit dat.
+He had kilt a man, and I never saw so many people 'fore, what dere to see him hang.
+I jes' shut my eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Den Mr. Will he take me to de big tree what have all de bark strip off it and
+de branches strip off, and say, 'Lucinda, dis de tree where Gen. Lee surrendered.'
+I has put dese two hands right on dat tree, yes, suh, I sho' has.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Susie say one day, 'Lucinda, how you like to go with us to Texas?' Law
+me, I didn't know where Texas was at, or nothin', but I loved Mr. Will and Miss
+Susie and de chilluns was all wrop up in me, so I say I'll go. And dat how come
+I'm here, and I ain't never been back, and I ain't see my own sisters and brother
+and papa since.</p>
+
+<p>"We come to New Orleans on de train and takes de boat on de Gulf to Galveston
+and den de train to Hempstead. Mr. Will farm at first and den he and Miss Susie
+run de hotel, and I stays with dem till I gets married to Will Elder in '75, and I
+lives with him till de good Lawd takes him home.</p>
+
+<p>"I has five chilluns but all dead now, 'ceptin' two. I done served de Lawd
+now for 64 years and soon he's gwine call old Lucinda, but I'm ready and I know
+I'll be better off when I die and go to Heaven, 'cause I'm old and no 'count now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420024" id="n420024"></a>420024</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 475px;"><a href="images/162021v.png">
+<img src="images/162021r.png" width="475" height="300" alt="John Ellis" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">John Ellis</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>JOHN ELLIS, was born June 26, 1852,
+a slave of the Ellis family in
+Johnson County near Cleburne, Texas.
+He remained with his white folks and
+was paid by the month for his labor
+for one year after freedom, when his
+master died and his mistress returned
+to Mississippi. He worked as a laborer
+for many years around Cleburne,
+coming to San Angelo, Texas in 1928.
+He now lives alone and is very active
+for his age.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>John relates:</p>
+
+<p>"My father and mother, John and Fannie Ellis, were
+sold in Springfield, Missouri, to my marster, Parson Ellis,
+and taken away from all their people and brought to Johnson
+County, Texas.</p>
+
+<p>"My marster, he was a preacher and a good man. None
+of de slaves ever have better white folks den we did.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We had good beds and good food and dey teaches
+us to read and write too. De buffalo and de antelope
+and de deer was mos' as thick as de cattle now, and we
+was sent out after dem, so we would always have plenty
+of fresh meat. We had hogs and cattle too. Any of
+dem what was not marked was just as much ours as iffen
+we had raised dem, 'cause de range was all free.</p>
+
+<p>"Some of de fish we would catch out of dat Brazos
+River would be so big dey would pull us in but finally
+we would manage to gits dem out. De rabbits and de
+'possum was plentiful too and wid de big garden what our
+marster had for us all, we sho' had good to eat.</p>
+
+<p>"I's done all kinds of work what it takes to run
+a fa'm. My boss he had only fourteen slaves and what
+was called a small fa'm, compared wid de big plantations.
+After our days work was done we would set up at night
+and pick de seed out of de cotton so dey could spin it
+into thread. Den we goes out and gits different kinds
+of bark and boils it to git dye for de thread 'fore it
+was spinned into cloth. De chillun jes' have long shirts
+and slips made out of dis home spun and we makes our
+shoes out of rawhide, and Lawdy! Dey was so hard we would
+have to warm dem by de fire and grease dem wid tallow to
+ever wear dem 'tall.</p>
+
+<p>"We had good log huts and our boss had a bigger log
+house. We never did work long into de night and long
+'fore day like I hear tell some did. We didn' have none
+of dem drivers and when we done anything very bad old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
+marster he whoop us a little but we never got hurt.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn' see no slaves sold. Dat was done, I hear,
+but not so much in Texas. I never did see no jails nor
+chains nor nothin' like dat either, but I hears 'bout dem.</p>
+
+<p>"We never worked Sat'days and de colored went to
+church wid de whites and jine de church too, but dey never
+baptized dem so far as I knows.</p>
+
+<p>"We had lots to eat and big times on Christmas, mos'
+as big as when de white folks gits married. Umph, um!
+One of de gi'ls got married once and she had such a long
+train on dat weddin' gown 'til me and my sister, we have
+to walks along behind her and carry dat thing, all of us
+a-walkin' on a strip of nice cloth from de carriage to de
+church. We sho' have de cakes and all dem good eats at
+dem weddin' suppers.</p>
+
+<p>"I nev'r hear tell of many colored weddin's. We
+jes' jumps over de broom an' de bride she has to jump over
+it backwards and iffen she couldn' jump it backwards she
+couldn't git married. Dat was sho' funny, seein' dem
+colored gi'ls a tryin' to jump dat broom.</p>
+
+<p>"Our boss, he tells us 'bout bein' free and he say he
+hire us by de month and we stays dere a year and he dies,
+den ole miss she go back to Mississippi and we jes' scatter
+'round, some a workin' here and some a workin' yonder, mos'
+times for our victuals and clothes. I couldn' tell much
+difference myself 'cause I had good people to live wid and
+when it was dat way de whites and de colored was better off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
+de way I sees it den dey is now, some of dem.</p>
+
+<p>"I seem jes' punyin' away, de doctors don' know
+jes' what's wrong wid me but I <a name='TC_8'></a><ins title="neber">never</ins> was use to doctors
+anyway, jes' some red root tea or sage weed and sheep
+waste tea for de measles am all de doctoring we gits when
+we was slaves and dat done jes' as well.</p>
+
+<p>"My wife she been dead all dese years an' I jes'
+lives here alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Chillun? No mam, I never had no chillun 'fore I
+was married an' I only had twelve after I was married;
+yes mam, jes' nine boys and three girls, but I prefers to
+live here by myself, 'cause I gits along alright."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420945" id="n420945"></a>420945</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 201px;"><a href="images/162025v.png">
+<img src="images/162025r.png" width="201" height="300" alt="Lorenza Ezell" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Lorenza Ezell</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>LORENZA EZELL, Beaumont, Texas,
+Negro, was born in 1850 on the
+plantation of Ned Lipscomb, in
+Spartanburg County, South Carolina.
+Lorenza is above the average
+in intelligence and remembers
+many incidents of slavery and Reconstruction
+days. He came to
+Brenham, Texas, in 1882, and several
+years later moved to Beaumont,
+where he lives in a little shack
+almost hidden by vines and trees.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Us plantation was jes' east from Pacolet Station on Thicketty
+Creek, in Spartanburg County, in South Carolina. Dat near Little
+and Big Pacolet Rivers on de route to Limestone Springs, and it jes'
+a ordinary plantation with de main crops cotton and wheat.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'long to de Lipscombs and my mama, Maria Ezell, she 'long
+to 'em, too. Old Ned Lipscomb was 'mongst de oldest citizens of dat
+county. I's born dere on July 29th, in 1850 and I be 87 year old dis
+year. Levi Ezell, he my daddy, and he 'long to Landrum Ezell, a Baptist
+preacher. Dat young massa and de old massa, John Ezell, was de first
+Baptist preacher I ever heered of. He have three sons, Landrum and Judson
+and Bryson. Bryson have gif' for business and was right smart of
+a orator.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey's fourteen niggers on de Lipscomb place. Dey's seven
+of us chillen, my mamma, three uncle and three aunt and one man what
+wasn't no kin to us. I was oldest of de chillen, and dey called Sallie
+and Carrie and Alice and Jabus and Coy and LaFate and Rufus and Nelson.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Ned Lipscomb was one de best massa in de whole county.
+You know dem old patterrollers, dey call us 'Old Ned's free niggers,' and
+sho' hate us. Dey cruel to us, 'cause dey think us have too good a massa.
+One time dey cotch my uncle and beat him most to death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Us go to work at daylight, but us wasn't 'bused. Other
+massas used to blow de horn or ring de bell, but massa, he never use
+de horn or de whip. All de man folks was 'lowed raise a garden patch
+with tobaccy or cotton for to sell in de market. Wasn't many massas
+what 'lowed dere niggers have patches and some didn't even feed 'em
+enough. Dat's why dey have to git out and hustle at night to git food
+for dem to eat.</p>
+
+<p>"De old massa, he 'sisted us go to church. De Baptist church
+have a shed built behind de pulpit for cullud folks, with de dirt floor
+and split log seat for de women folks, but most de men folks stands or
+kneels on de floor. Dey used to call dat de coop. De white preacher
+back to us, but iffen he want to he turn 'round and talk to us awhile.
+Us mess up songs, 'cause us couldn't read or write. I 'member dis one:</p>
+
+<p>
+'De rough, rocky road what Moses done travel,<br />
+I's bound to carry my soul to de Lawd;<br />
+It's a mighty rocky road but I mos' done travel,<br />
+And I's bound to carry my soul to de Lawd.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Us sing 'Sweet Chariot,' but us didn't sing it like dese days.
+Us sing:</p>
+
+<p>
+'Swing low, sweet chariot,<br />
+Freely let me into rest,<br />
+I don't want to stay here no longer;<br />
+Swing low, sweet chariot,<br />
+When Gabriel make he las' alarm<br />
+I wants to be rollin' in Jesus arm,<br />
+'Cause I don't want to stay here no longer.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Us sing 'nother song what de Yankees take dat tune and make a
+hymm out of it. Sherman army sung it, too. We have it like dis:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>
+'Our bodies bound to morter and decay,<br />
+Our bodies bound to morter and decay,<br />
+Our bodies bound to morter and decay,<br />
+But us souls go marchin' home.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Befo' de war I jes' big 'nough to drap corn and tote water.
+When de little white chillen go to school 'bout half mile, I wait till
+noon and run all de way up to de school to run base when dey play at noon.
+Dey sev'ral young Lipscombs, dere Smith and Bill and John and Nathan, and
+de oldest son, Elias.</p>
+
+<p>"In dem days cullud people jes' like mules and hosses. Dey
+didn't have no last name. My mamma call me after my daddy's massa, Ezell.
+Mamma was de good woman and I 'member her more dan once rockin' de little
+cradle and singin' to de baby. Dis what she sing:</p>
+
+<p>
+"Milk in de dairy nine days old,<br />
+Sing-song Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?<br />
+Frogs and skeeters gittin' mighty bol!<br />
+Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?<br />
+<br />
+(Chorus)<br />
+<br />
+Keemo, kimo, darro, wharro,<br />
+With me hi, me ho;<br />
+In come Sally singin'<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sometime penny winkle,</span><br />
+Lingtum nip cat,<br />
+Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?<br />
+<br />
+Dere a frog live in a pool,<br />
+Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?<br />
+Sure he was de bigges' fool,<br />
+Sing-song Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?<br />
+<br />
+For he could dance and he could sing<br />
+Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?<br />
+And make de woods aroun' him ring<br />
+Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?'<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Old massa didn't hold with de way some mean massas treat dey niggers.
+Dere a place on our plantation what us call 'De old meadow.' It was common
+for runaway niggers to have place 'long de way to hide and res' when dey run
+off from mean massa. Massa used to give 'em somethin' to eat when dey hide
+dere. I saw dat place operated, though it wasn't knowed by dat den, but
+long time after I finds out dey call it part of de 'Underground railroad.'
+Dey was stops like dat all de way up to de north.</p>
+
+<p>"We have went down to Columbia when I 'bout 11 year old and dat where
+de first gun fired. Us rush back home, but I could say I heered de first
+guns of de war shot, at Fort Sumter.</p>
+
+<p>"When Gen'ral Sherman come 'cross de Savannah River in South Carolina,
+some of he sojers come right 'cross us plantation. All de neighbors have
+brung dey cotton and stack it in de thicket on de Lipscomb place. Sherman
+men find it and sot it on fire. Dat cotton stack was big as a little courthouse
+and it took two months' burnin'.</p>
+
+<p>"My old massa run off and stay in de woods a whole week when Sherman
+men come through. He didn't need to worry, 'cause us took care of everythin'.
+Dey a funny song us make up 'bout him runnin' off in de woods. I
+know it was make up, 'cause my uncle have a hand in it. It went like dis:</p>
+
+<p>
+'White folks, have you seed old massa<br />
+Up de road, with he mustache on?<br />
+He pick up he hat and he leave real sudden<br />
+And I 'lieve he's up and gone.<br />
+<br />
+(Chorus)<br />
+<br />
+'Old massa run away<br />
+And us darkies stay at home.<br />
+It mus' be now dat Kingdom's comin'<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>And de year of Jubilee.<br />
+<br />
+'He look up de river and he seed dat smoke<br />
+Where de Lincoln gunboats lay.<br />
+He big 'nuff and he old 'nuff and he orter know better,<br />
+But he gone and run away.<br />
+<br />
+'Now dat overseer want to give trouble<br />
+And trot us 'round a spell,<br />
+But we lock him up in de smokehouse cellar,<br />
+With de key done throwed in de well.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Right after dat I start to be boy what run mail from camp to
+camp for de sojers. One time I capture by a bunch of deserters what was
+hidin' in de woods 'long Pacolet River. Dey didn't hurt me, though, but
+dey mos' scare me to death. Dey parole me and turn me loose.</p>
+
+<p>"All four my young massas go to de war, all but Elias. He
+too old. Smith, he kilt at Manassas Junction. Nathan he git he finger
+shot at de first round at Fort Sumter. But when Billy was wounded at
+Howard Gap in North Carolina and dey brung him home with he jaw split open,
+I so mad I could have kilt all de Yankees. I say I be happy iffen I could
+kill me jes' one Yankee. I hated dem 'cause dey hurt my white people.
+Billy was disfigure awful when he jaw split and he teeth all shine through
+he cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"After <a name='TC_9'></a><ins title="was">war</ins> was over, old massa call us up and told us we free
+but he 'vise not leave de place till de crop was through. Us all stay. Den
+us select us homes and move to it. Us folks move to Sam Littlejohn's, north
+of Thickettty Creek, where us stay two year. Den us move back to Billy Lipscomb,
+de young massa, and stay dere two more year. I's right smart good
+banjo picker in dem day. I kin 'member one dem songs jes' as good today as
+when I pick it. Dat was:</p>
+
+<p>
+'Early in de mornin'<br />
+Don't you hear de dogs a-barkin'?<br />
+Bow, wow, wow!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span><br />
+(Chorus)<br />
+<br />
+'Hush, hush, boys<br />
+Don't make a noise,<br />
+Massa's fast a-sleepin'.<br />
+Run to de barnyard<br />
+Wake up de boys<br />
+Let's have banjo pickin.'.<br />
+<br />
+'Early in de mornin'<br />
+Don't you hear dem roosters crowin'?<br />
+Cock-a-doodle-do.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"I come in contac' with de Klu Klux. Us lef' de plantation
+in '65 or '66 and by '68 us was havin' sich a awful time with de Klu Klux.
+First time dey come to my mamma's house at midnight and claim dey sojers
+done come back from de dead. Dey all dress up in sheets and make up like
+spirit. Dey groan 'round and say dey been kilt wrongly and come back
+for justice. One man, he look jus' like ordinary man, but he spring up
+'bout eighteen feet high all of a <a name='TC_10'></a><ins title="suddent">sudden</ins>. Another say he so thirsty
+he ain't have no water since he been kilt at Manassas Junction. He ask
+for water and he jes' kept pourin' it in. Us think he sho' must be a
+spirit to drink dat much water. Course he not drinkin' it, he pourin' it
+in a bag under he sheet. My mama never did take up no truck with spirits
+so she knowed it jes' a man. Dey tell us what dey gwine do iffen we don't
+all go back to us massas and us all 'grees and den dey all dis'pear.</p>
+
+<p>"Den us move to New Prospect on de Pacolet River, on de Perry
+Clemmons' place. Dat in de upper edge of de county and dat where de second
+swarm of de Klu Klux come out. Dey claim dey gwine kill everybody what am
+Repub'can. My daddy charge with bein' a leader 'mongst de niggers. He
+make speech and 'struct de niggers how to vote for Grant's first 'lection.
+De Klu Klux want to whip him and he have to sleep in a holler log every
+night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dey's a old man name Uncle Bart what live 'bout half mile from
+us. De Klu Klux come to us house one night, but my daddy done hid. Den I
+hear dem say dey gwine go kill old man Bart. I jump out de window and
+cut short cut through dem wood and warn him. He git out de house in time
+and I save he life. De funny thing, I knowed all dem Klu Klux. Spite dey
+sheets and things, I knowed dey voices and dey saddle hosses.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey one white man name Irving Ramsey. Us play fiddle together
+lots of time. When de white boys dance dey allus wants me to go to play for
+dey party. One day I say to dat boy, 'I done knowed you last night.' He
+say, 'What you mean?' I say, 'You one dem Klu Klux.' He want to know how
+I know. I say, 'Member when you go under de chestnut tree and say, "Whoa,
+Sont, whoa, Sont, to your hoss?" He say, 'Yes,' and I laugh and say, 'Well,
+I's right up in dat tree.' Dey all knowed I knowed dem den, but I never
+told on dem. When dey seed I ain't gwineter tell, dey never try whip my
+daddy or kill Uncle Bart no more.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't never been to school but I jes' picked up readin'. With
+some my first money I ever earn I buy me a old blue-back Webster. I carry
+dat book wherever I goes. When I plows down a row I stop at de end to rest
+and den I overlook de lesson. I 'member one de very first lessons was,
+'Evil communications 'rupts good morals.' I knowed de words 'evil' and
+'good' and a white man 'splain de others. I been done use dat lesson all
+my life.</p>
+
+<p>"After us left de Pacolet River us stay in Atlanta a little
+while and den I go on to Louisiana. I done lef' Spartanburg completely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
+in '76 but I didn't git into Texas till 1882. I fin'lly git to Brenham,
+Texas and marry Rachel Pinchbeck two year after. Us was marry in church
+and have seven chillen. Den us sep'rate. I been batching 'bout 20 year
+and I done los' track mos' dem chillen. My gal, Lula, live in Beaumont,
+and Will, he in Chicago.</p>
+
+<p>"Every time I tells dese niggers I's from South Carolina dey
+all say, 'O, he bound to make a heap.' I could be a conjure doctor and
+make plenty money, but dat ain't good. In slavery time dey's men like dat
+'garded as bein' dangerous. Dey make charms and put bad mouth on you.
+De old folks wears de rabbit foot or coon foot and sometime a silver dime
+on a fishin' string to keep off de witches. Some dem old conjure people
+make lots of money for charm 'gainst ruin or cripplin' or dry up de blood.
+But I don't take up no truck with things like dat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420093" id="n420093"></a>420093</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 196px;"><a href="images/162033v.png">
+<img src="images/162033r.png" width="196" height="300" alt="Betty Farrow" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Betty Farrow</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>BETTY FARROW, 90, now living
+with a son on a farm in Moser
+Valley, a Negro settlement ten
+miles northeast of Fort Worth
+on Texas Highway No. 15, was
+born a slave to Mr. Alex Clark,
+plantation owner in Patrick Co.,
+Virginia.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I's glad to tell what I knows, but yous have to 'scuse
+me, 'cause my 'collection am bad. I jus' don' 'member much, but I's
+bo'n on Masta Alex Clark's plantation in Patrick County, Virginny,
+on June 28th, 1847. Dat's what my mammy tol' me. You see, we cullud
+folks have no schoolin' dem days and I can't read or write. I has to
+depen' on what folks tells me.</p>
+
+<p>"Masta Clark has right smart plantation in ole Virginny and
+he owns 'bout twenty other slaves dat wo'ked de big place. He had three
+girls and four boys and when I's a chile we'uns played togedder and we'uns
+'tached to each other all our lives.</p>
+
+<p>"In mammy's family dere was five boys and four girls. I don'
+'member my pappy. When I's 'bout ten, I's set to work, peddalin' 'round
+de house.</p>
+
+<p>"'bout three years 'fore de war marster sol' his plantation
+for to go to Texas. I 'members de day we'uns started in three covered
+wagons, all loaded. 'Twas celebration day for us chillun. We travels
+from daylight to dark, 'cept to feed and res' de mules at noon. I don'
+rec'lec' how long we was on de way, but 'twas long time and 'twarn't no
+celebration towards de las'. After while we comes to Sherman, in Texas,
+to our new farm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"When we was dere 'bout a year, dere am heaps of trouble.
+Dere was a neighbor, Shields, he's drivin' wood to town and goes n'cross
+masta's yard and dey have arg'ments. One day we chillen playin' and
+masta settin' on de front porch and Shields come up de road. Masta stops
+him when he starts to cross de yard and de fust thing we knows, we hears
+'bang' and dat Shields shoot de masta and we sees him fall. Dey sen's
+young Alex for de doctor and he makes dat mule run like he never run 'fore.
+De doctor comes in de house and looks at de masta, and listens to his heart
+and says, 'He am dead.' Dere was powerful sorrow in dat home.</p>
+
+<p>"After dat, Masta Alex takes charge, and in 'bout one year, he says,
+'We'uns goin' to Fort Worth.' So we goes, and if I rec'lec's right, dat year
+de war started. After dat, dere was times dere wasn' enough to make de
+clothes, but we'uns allus had plenty to eat, and we gives lots of feed to
+de army mans.</p>
+
+<p>"I don' 'member bein' tol' I's free. We'uns stayed right dere on
+de farm 'cause it was de only home we knew and no reason to go. I stays
+dere till I's twenty-seven years ole, den I marries and my husban' rents
+land. We'uns has ten chillun and sometimes we has to skimp, but we gets
+on. When my husban' dies fifteen years ago, I comes here. I's allus been
+too busy tendin' to my 'sponsibilities for to git in de debilmen' and now
+I's happy, tendin' to my great gran'chile.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420147" id="n420147"></a>420147</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>JOHN FINNELY, 86, was born a slave
+to Martin Finnely, in Jackson Co.,
+Alabama. During the Civil War ten
+slaves escaped from the Finnely
+plantation. Their success led John
+to escape. He joined the Federal
+Army. John farmed from 1865 until
+1917, then moved to Fort Worth, Tex.,
+and worked in packing plants until
+1930. He now lives at 2812 Cliff
+St., Fort Worth, his sole support
+a $17.00 monthly pension.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Alabama am de state where I's born and dat 86 year ago, in Jackson
+County, on Massa Martin Finnely's plantation, and him owns 'bout 75 other
+slaves 'sides mammy and me. My pappy am on dat plantation but I don't
+know him, 'cause mammy never talks 'bout him 'cept to say, 'He am here.'</p>
+
+<p>"Massa run de cotton plantation but raises stock and feed and corn
+and cane and rations for de humans sich as us. It am diff'rent when I's
+a young'un dan now. Den, it am needful for to raise everything yous need,
+'cause dey couldn't 'pend on factory made goods. Dey could buy shoes and
+clothes and sich, but we'uns could make dem so much cheaper.</p>
+
+<p>"What we'uns make? 'Low me to 'collect a li'l. Let's see, we'uns
+make shoes, and leather and clothes and cloth and grinds de meal. And
+we'uns cures de meat, preserves de fruit and make 'lassas and brown sugar.
+All de harness for de mules and de hosses is make and de carts for haulin'.
+Am dat all? Oh, yes, massa make peach brandy and him have he own still.</p>
+
+<p>"De work am 'vided 'twixt de cullud folks and us allus have certain
+duties to do. I's am de field hand and befo' I's old 'nough for to do dat,
+dey has me help with de chores and errands.</p>
+
+<p>"Us have de cabins of logs with one room and one door and one window
+hole and bunks for sleepin'. But no cookin' am done dere. It am done in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
+de cookhouse by de cooks for all us niggers and we'uns eats in de eatin' shed.
+De rations am good, plain victuals and dere plenty of it and 'bout twict a
+week dere somethin' for treat. Massa sho' am 'ticular 'bout feedin', 'specially
+for de young'uns in de nursery. You see, dere am de nursery for sich what
+needs care while dere mammies am a-workin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa feed plenty and him 'mand plenty work. Dat cause heap of
+trouble on dat plantation, 'cause whippin's am given and hard ones, too. Lots
+of times at de end of de day I's so tired I's couldn't speak for to stop de
+mule, I jus' have to lean back on de lines.</p>
+
+<p>"Dis nigger never gits whupped 'cept for dis, befo' I's a field
+hand. Massa use me for huntin' and use me for de gun rest. When him have de
+long shot I bends over and puts de hands on de knees and massa puts his gun
+on my back for to git de good aim. What him kills I runs and fotches and
+carries de game for him. I turns de squirrels for him and dat disaway: de
+squirrel allus go to udder side from de hunter and I walks 'round de tree
+and de squirrel see me and go to massa's side de tree and he gits de shot.</p>
+
+<p>"All dat not so bad, but when he shoots de duck in de water and I
+has to fotch it out, dat give me de worryment. De fust time he tells me
+to go in de pond I's skeert, powe'ful skeert. I takes off de shirt and pants
+but there I stands. I steps in de water, den back 'gain, and 'gain. Massa
+am gittin' mad. He say, 'Swim in dere and git dat duck.' 'Yes, sar, massa,'
+I says, but I won't go in dat water till massa hit me some licks. I couldn't
+never git use to bein' de water dog for de ducks.</p>
+
+<p>"De worst whuppin' I seed was give to Clarinda. She hits massa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
+with de hoe 'cause he try 'fere with her and she try stop him. She am put
+on de log and give 500 lashes. She am over dat log all day and when dey takes
+her off, she am limp and act deadlike. For a week she am in de bunk. Dat
+whuppin' cause plenty trouble and dere lots of arg'ments 'mong de white folks
+'round dere.</p>
+
+<p>"We has some joyments on de plantation, no parties or dancin' but
+we has de corn huskin' and de nigger fights. For de corn huskin' everybody
+come to one place and dey gives de prize for findin' de red ear. On massa's
+place de prize am brandy or you am 'lowed to kiss de gal you calls for.
+While us huskin' us sing lots. No, no, I's not gwine sing any dem songs,
+'cause I's forgit and my voice sound like de bray of de mule.</p>
+
+<p>"De nigger fights am more for de white folks' joyment but de
+slaves am 'lowed to see it. De massas of plantations match dere niggers
+'cording to size and bet on dem. Massa Finnely have one nigger what weighs
+'bout 150 pounds and him powerful good fighter and he like to fight. None
+lasts long with him. Den a new niggers comes to fight him.</p>
+
+<p>"Dat fight am held at night by de pine torch light. A ring am
+made by de folks standin' 'round in de circle. Deys 'lowed to do anything
+with dey hands and head and teeth. Nothin' barred 'cept de knife and de
+club. Dem two niggers gits in de ring and Tom he starts quick, and dat new
+nigger he starts jus' as quick. Dat 'sprise Tom and when dey comes togedder
+it like two bulls&mdash;kersmash&mdash;it sounds like dat. Den it am hit and kick
+and bite and butt anywhere and any place for to best de udder. De one on de
+bottom bites knees or anything him can do. Dat's de way it go for half de
+hour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Fin'ly dat new nigger gits Tom in de stomach with he knee and a
+lick side de jaw at de same time and down go Tom and de udder nigger jumps
+on him with both feets, den straddle him and hits with right, left, right,
+left, right, side Tom's head. Dere Tom lay, makin' no 'sistance. Everybody
+am saysin', 'Tom have met he match, him am done.' Both am bleedin' and am
+awful sight. Well, dat new nigger 'laxes for to git he wind and den Tom,
+quick like de flash, flips him off and jump to he feet and befo' dat new
+nigger could git to he feet, Tom kicks him in de stomach, 'gain and 'gain.
+Dat nigger's body start to quaver and he massa say, 'Dat 'nough.' Dat de
+clostest Tom ever come to gittin' whupped what I's know of.</p>
+
+<p>"I becomes a runaway nigger short time after dat fight. De war am
+started den for 'bout a year, or somethin' like dat, and de Fed'rals am
+north of us. I hears de niggers talk 'bout it, and 'bout runnin' 'way to
+freedom. I thinks and thinks 'bout gittin' freedom, and I's gwine run off.
+Den I thinks of de patter rollers and what happen if dey cotches me off de
+place without de pass. Den I thinks of some joyment sich as de corn huskin'
+and de fights and de singin' and I don't know what to do. I tells you one
+singin' but I can't sing it:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'De moonlight, a shinin' star,<br />
+De big owl hootin' in de tree;<br />
+O, bye, my baby, ain't you gwineter sleep,<br />
+A-rockin' on my knee?<br />
+<br />
+"'Bye, my honey baby,<br />
+A-rockin' on my knee,<br />
+Baby done gone to sleep,<br />
+Owl hush hootin' in de tree.<br />
+<br />
+"'She gone to sleep, honey baby sleep,<br />
+A-rockin' on my, a-rockin' on my knee.'<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Now, back to de freedom. One night 'bout ten niggers run
+away. De next day we'uns hears nothin', so I says to myself, 'De patters
+don't cotch dem.' Den I makes up my mind to go and I leaves with de chunk
+of meat and cornbread and am on my way, half skeert to death. I sho' has de
+eyes open and de ears forward, watchin' for de patters. I steps off de road
+in de night, at sight of anything, and in de day I takes to de woods. It
+takes me two days to make dat trip and jus' once de patters pass me by. I
+am in de thicket watchin' dem and I's sho' dey gwine search dat thicket, 'cause
+dey stops and am a-talkin' and lookin' my way. Dey stands dere for a li'l bit
+and den one comes my way. Lawd A-mighty! Dat sho' look like de end, but dat
+man stop and den look and look. Den he pick up somethin' and goes back. It
+am a bottle and dey all takes de drink and rides on. I's sho' in de sweat and
+I don't tarry dere long.</p>
+
+<p>"De Yanks am camped nere Bellfound and dere's where I gits to. 'Magine
+my 'sprise when I finds all de ten runaway niggers am dere, too. Dat am on a
+Sunday and on de Monday, de Yanks puts us on de freight train and we goes to
+Stevenson, in Alabama. Dere, us put to work buildin' breastworks. But after
+de few days, I gits sent to de headquarters at Nashville, in Tennessee.</p>
+
+<p>"I's water toter dere for de army and dere am no fightin' at first
+but 'fore long dey starts de battle. Dat battle am a 'sperience for me.
+De noise am awful, jus' one steady roar of de guns and de cannons. De window
+glass in Nashville am all shoke out from de shakement of de cannons. Dere am
+dead mens all over de ground and lots of wounded and some cussin' and some
+prayin'. Some am moanin' and dis and dat one cry for de water and, God A-mighty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+I don't want any sich 'gain. Dere am men carryin' de dead off da field,
+but dey can't keep up with de cannons. I helps bury de dead and den I gits
+sent to Murphysboro and dere it am jus' de same.</p>
+
+<p>"You knows when Abe Lincoln am shot? Well, I's in Nashville den and
+it am near de end of de war and I am standin' on Broadway Street talkin'
+with de sergeant when up walk a man and him shakes hands with me and says,
+'I's proud to meet a brave, young fellow like you.' Dat man am Andrew
+Johnson and him come to be president after Abe's dead.</p>
+
+<p>"I stays in Nashville when de war am over and I marries Tennessee
+House in 1875 and she died July 10th, 1936. Dat make 61 year dat we'uns
+am togedder. Her old missy am now livin' in Arlington Heights, right
+here in Fort Worth and her name am Mallard and she come from Tennessee, too.</p>
+
+<p>"I comes here from Tennessee 51 year ago and at fust I farms and den
+I works for de packin' plants till dey lets me out, 'cause I's too old for
+to do 'nough work for dem.</p>
+
+<p>"I has eight boys and three girls, dat make eleven chillen, and dey
+makin' scatterment all over de country so I's alone in my old age. I has
+dat $17.00 de month pension what I gits from de State.</p>
+
+<p>"Dat am de end of de road.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420031" id="n420031"></a>420031</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 195px;"><a href="images/162041v.png">
+<img src="images/162041r.png" width="195" height="300" alt="Sarah Ford" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Sarah Ford</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>SARAH FORD, whose age is problematical,
+but who says, "I's
+been here for a long time," lives
+in a small cottage at 3151 Clay
+St., Houston, Texas. Born on the
+Kit Patton plantation near West
+Columbia, Texas, Aunt Sarah was
+probably about fifteen years old
+when emancipated. She had eleven
+children, the first born during
+the storm of 1875, at East Columbia,
+in which Sarah's mother
+and father both perished.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Law me, you wants me to talk 'bout slave times, and you is
+cotched me 'fore I's had my coffee dis mornin', but when you gits old
+as I is, talk is 'bout all you can do, so 'scuse me whilst I puts de
+coffee pot on de fire and tell you what I can.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, what I tells you is de truth, 'cause I only told one little
+lie in my whole life and I got cotched in it and got whipped both ways.
+Oh, Lawd, I sho' never won't forget dat, mama sho' was mad. Mama sends
+me over to Sally Ann, the cow woman, to get some milk and onions. I
+never did like to borrow, so I comes back with the milk and tell mama
+Sally Ann say she ain't got no onions for no Africans. Dat make mamma
+mad and she goes tell dat Sally Ann Somethin'. She brung back de onions
+and say, 'You, Sarah, I'll larn you not to tell no lie.' She sho' give
+me a hidin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I tells you 'bout de plantation what I's born on. You all
+knows where West Columbia is at? Well, dat's right where I's born, on
+Massa Kit Patton's Plantation, dey calls it de Hogg place now." (Owned
+by children of Gov. Will Hogg.)</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma and papa belongs to Massa Kit and mama born there, too.
+Folks called her 'Little Jane,' 'cause she's no bigger'n nothing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Papa's name was Mike and he's a tanner and he come from Tennessee
+and sold to Massa Kit by a nigger trader. He wasn't all black, he
+was part Indian. I heared him say what tribe, but I can't 'lect now.
+When I's growed mama tells me lots of things. She say de white folks
+don't let de slaves what works in de field marry none, dey jus' puts a
+man and breedin' woman together like mules. Iffen the women don't like
+the man it don't make no diff'rence, she better go or dey gives her a
+hidin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Kit has two brothers, Massa Charles and Massa Matt,
+what lives at West Columbia. Massa Kit on one side Varney's Creek and
+Massa Charles on de other side. Massa Kit have a <a name='TC_11'></a><ins title="Arfican">African</ins> woman from
+Kentucky for he wife, and dat's de truth. I ain't sayin' iffen she a
+real wife or not, but all de slaves has to call her 'Miss Rachel.' But
+iffen a bird fly up in de sky it mus' come down sometime, and Rachel
+jus' like dat bird, 'cause Massa Kit go crazy and die and Massa Charles
+take over de plantation and he takes Rachel and puts her to work in de
+field. But she don't stay in de field long, 'cause Massa Charles puts
+her in a house by herself and she don't work no more.</p>
+
+<p>"If us gits sick us call Mammy Judy. She de cook and iffen you
+puts a sugar barrel 'long side her and puts a face on dat barrel, you sho'
+can't tell it from her, she so round and fat. Iffen us git real sick dey
+calls de doctor, but iffen it a misery in de stomach or jus' de flux,
+Mammy Judy fix up some burr vine tea or horsemint tea. Dey de male burr
+vine and de female burr vine and does a woman or gal git de misery, dey
+gives 'em de female tea, and does a man, or boy chile git it, dey gives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
+him de male vine tea.</p>
+
+<p>"Scuse me while I pours me some coffee. It sho' do fortify me.
+You know what us drink for coffee in slave times? Parched meal, and it
+purty good iffen you know's how.</p>
+
+<p>"Us don't have much singin' on our place, 'cepting at church on
+Sunday. Law me, de folks what works in de fields feels more like cryin'
+at night. Us chillen used to sing dis:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Where you goin', buzzard,<br />
+Where you gwine to go?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I's <a name='TC_12'></a><ins title="goiin'">goin'</ins> down to new ground,</span><br />
+For to hunt Jim Crow.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"I guess Massa Charles, what taken us when Massa Kit die, was 'bout
+de same as all white folks what owned slaves, some good and some bad. We has
+plenty to eat&mdash;more'n I has now&mdash;and plenty clothes and shoes. But de
+overseer was Uncle Big Jake, what's black like de rest of us, but he so mean
+I 'spect de devil done make him overseer down below long time ago. Dat de
+bad part of Massa Charles, 'cause he lets Uncle Jake whip de slaves so much
+dat some like my papa what had spirit was all de time runnin' 'way. And even
+does your stomach be full, and does you have plenty clothes, dat bullwhip on
+your bare hide make you forgit de good part, and dat's de truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Big Jake sho' work de slaves from early mornin' till night.
+When you is in de field you better not lag none. When its fallin' weather
+de hands is put to work fixin' dis and dat. De woman what has li'l chillen
+don't have to work so hard. Dey works 'round de sugar house and come 11 o'clock
+dey quits and cares for de babies till 1 o'clock, and den works till 3 o'clock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
+and quits.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Charles have a arbor and dat's where we has preachin'. One
+day old Uncle Law preachin' and he say, 'De Lawd make everyone to come in
+unity and on de level, both white and black.' When Massa Charles hears
+'bout it, he don't like it none, and de next mornin' old Uncle Jake git Uncle
+Law and put him out in de field with de rest.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Charles run dat plantation jus' like a factory. Uncle Cip
+was sugar man, my papa tanner and Uncle John Austin, what have a wooden leg,
+am shoemaker and make de shoes with de brass toes. Law me, dey heaps of
+things go on in slave time what won't go on no more, 'cause de bright light
+come and it ain't dark no more for us black folks. Iffen a nigger run away
+and dey cotch him, or does he come back 'cause he hongry, I seed Uncle Jake
+stretch him out on de ground and tie he hands and feet to posts so he can't
+move none. Den he git de piece of iron what he call de 'slut' and what is
+like a block of wood with little holes in it, and fill de holes up with
+tallow and put dat iron in de fire till de grease sizzlin' hot and hold it
+over de pore nigger's back and let dat hot grease drap on he hide. Den he
+take de bullwhip and whip up and down, and after all dat throw de pore nigger
+in de stockhouse and chain him up a couple days with nothin' to eat. My
+papa carry de grease scars on he back till he die.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Charles and Uncle Jake don't like papa, 'cause he ain't so
+black, and he had spirit, 'cause he part Indian. Do somethin' go wrong
+and Uncle Big Jake say he gwine to give papa de whippin', he runs off. One
+time he gone a whole year and he sho' look like a monkey when he gits back,
+with de hair standin' straight on he head and he face. Papa was mighty good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>
+to mama and me and dat de only reason he ever come back from runnin' 'way,
+to see us. He knowed he'd git a whippin' but he come anyway. Dey never
+could cotch papa when he run 'way, 'cause he part Indian. Massa Charles
+even gits old Nigger Kelly what lives over to Sandy Point to track papa
+with he dogs, but papa wade in water and dey can't track him.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey knows papa is de best tanner 'round dat part de country, so
+dey doesn't sell him off de place. I 'lect papa sayin' dere one place
+special where he hide, some German folks, de name Ebbling, I think. While
+he hides dere, he tans hides on de sly like and dey feeds him, and lots
+of mornin's when us open de cabin door on a shelf jus' 'bove is food for
+mama and me, and sometime store clothes. No one ain't see papa, but dere
+it is. One time he brung us dresses, and Uncle Big Jake heered 'bout it
+and he sho' mad 'cause he can't cotch papa, and he say to mama he gwine to
+whip her 'less she tell him where papa is. Mama say, 'Fore God, Uncle Jake,
+I don't know, 'cause I ain't seed him since he run 'way,' and jus' den papa
+come 'round de corner of de house. He save mama from de whippin' but papa
+got de hot grease drapped on him like I told you Uncle Big Jake did, and
+got put in de stockhouse with shackles on him, and kep' dere three
+days, and while he in dere mama has de goin' down pains and my sister, Rachel,
+is born.</p>
+
+<p>"When freedom come, I didn't know what dat was. I 'lect Uncle Charley
+Burns what drive de buggy for Massa Charles, come runnin' out in de yard and
+holler, 'Everybody free, everybody free,' and purty soon sojers comes and
+de captain reads a 'mation. And, Law me, dat one time Massa Charley can't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+open he mouth, 'cause de captain tell him to shut up, dat he'd do de talkin'.
+Den de captain say, 'I come to tell you de slaves is free and you don't have
+to call nobody master no more.' Well, us jus' mill 'round like cattle do.
+Massa Charley say iffen us wants to stay he'll pay us, all 'cepting my papa.
+He say, 'You can't stay here, 'cause you is a bad 'fluence.'</p>
+
+<p>"Papa left but come back with a wagon and mules what he borrows and
+loads mama and my sister and me in and us go to East Columbia on de Brazos
+river and settles down. Dey hires me out and us have our own patch, too, and
+dat de fust time I ever seed any money. Papa builds a cabin and a corn crib
+and us sho' happy, 'cause de bright light done come and dey no more whippin's.</p>
+
+<p>"One night us jus' finish eatin supper and someone holler 'Hello.' You
+know who it was holler? Old Uncle Big Jake. De black folks all hated him so
+dey wouldn't have no truck with him and he ask my papa could he stay. Papa
+didn't like him none, 'cause he done treat papa so bad, but de old devil jus'
+beg so hard papa takes him out to de corn crib and fix a place for him and he
+stay most a month till he taken sick and died.</p>
+
+<p>"I stays with papa and mama till I marries Wes Ford and I shows you
+how de Lawd done give and take away. Wes and I has a cabin by ourselves near
+papa's and I is jus' 'bout to have my first baby. De wind start blowin' and
+it git harder and harder and right when its de worst de baby comes. Dat in
+'75 and whilst I havin' my baby, de wind tear de cabin where mama and papa is
+to pieces and kilt 'em. My sister Rachel was with me so she wasn't kilt.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can't complain, 'cause de Lawd sho' been good to me. Wes
+and all 'cept four my chillen is dead now. I has six boys and five gals.
+But de ones what is alive is pore like dey mammy. But I praises de Lawd
+'cause de bright light am turned on.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420153" id="n420153"></a>420153</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MILLIE FORWARD, about 95 years old,
+was born a slave of Jason Forward, in
+Jasper, Texas. She has spent her entire
+life in that vicinity, and now
+lives in Jasper with her son, Joe McRay.
+Millie has been totally blind for fifteen
+years and is very deaf.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Us used to live 'bout four mile east of Jasper, on de Newton
+Highway. I reckon I's 'bout 95 year old and I thank de Lawd I's been
+spared dis long. Some my old friends say I's 100, and maybe I is. I
+feels like it.</p>
+
+<p>"I's born in Alabama and mammy have jus' got up when de white
+folks brung us out west. Pappy's name Jim Forward and mammy name Mary.
+Dey lef' pappy in Alabama, 'cause he 'long to 'nother massa.</p>
+
+<p>"My massa name Jason Forward and he own a lot of slaves. I work
+as housegirl and wait on de white women. Missus name am Sarah Ann Forward.
+Massa Jason he own de fust drugstore in Jasper. I have de sister, Susan,
+and de brudder, Tom. Massa and missus, dey treats us jes' like dey us
+pappy and mammy.</p>
+
+<p>"Us have more to eat den dan us do now. Us never was knowed to
+be without meat, 'cause massa raise plenty pigs. Us have fish and possum
+and coon and deer and everything. Us have biscuits and cake, too, but
+us drink bran meal coffee. Massa and missus has no chillen and dey give
+us feast and have biscuits and cake. Befo' Christmas massa go to town
+and buy all kinds candy and toys and say, 'Millie, you go out on de
+gallery and holler and tell Santy not forgit fill your stockin' tonight.'
+I holler loud as I can and nex' mornin' my stockin' chock full.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"After freedom come, us stays right on with massa and missus. Massa
+teach school for us at night. Us learn A B C and how spell cat and dog and nigger.
+Den one day he git cross and scold us and us didn't go back to school no more. Us
+didn't have sense 'nough to know he tryin' do us good.</p>
+
+<p>"Den missus git sick, but she dat good, dat when one cullud man git
+drown in de 'river she sit up in bed and make he shroud and massa feed de whole
+crowd de two days dey findin' de body. After him bury, missus git worse and
+say, 'Jason, pull down de blind, de light am so bright it hurt my eyes.' Den
+a big, white crane come light on de chimney and us chillen throw rocks at him,
+but he jes' shake he head and ruffle he feathers and still sit dere. I tells
+you dat de light of Heaven shinin' on missus and iffen ever a woman went dere,
+she did. She de bes' white woman I ever see. De day she die, I cry all day.</p>
+
+<p>"When de sojers go to de war, every man take a slave to wait on him
+and take care he camp and cook. After de end of war, when de sojers gwine home,
+don't know how many Yankees pass through Jasper, but it sound like de roar of
+a storm comin'. Every officer have he wife ridin' right by he side. Dey wives
+come to go home with dem. Dey thousands bluecoats, ridin' two abreas'.</p>
+
+<p>"When I young lady, dey have tourn'ments at Adrian Ryall place west
+of Jasper and de one what cotch de hoss bridle de most times, git crown queen.
+I gits to be queen every time. I looks like a queen now, doesn't I?</p>
+
+<p>"After us git free a long time, me and Susan and Tom us work hard
+and buy us de black land farm. But de deed git' burnt up and us didn't know
+how to git 'nother deed, and a young nigger call McRay, he come foolin' 'round
+me and makin' love to me. He find out us don't have no deed no more and he claim
+dat farm and take it 'way from us and leave me with li'l baby boy what I names
+Joe Millie McRay. But never 'gain. I never marries.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Us done work in de cotton field and wash many a long day to
+pay for dat farm. But dat boy growed to be a good man and I live with him and
+he wife now. And he boy, Bob, am better still. He jes' work so hard and he
+buy fine li'l home in Jasper and marry de bes' gal, mos' white. Dey have nice
+fur'ture and gas and lights and everything.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey treat us purty good in slavery days but I'd rather be free,
+but it purty hard to be blind so long and most deaf, too, but I thank de Lawd
+I's not sufferin'. I gits de pension of 'leven dollars a month. I's so old
+I can't 'member much, only sometime, things comes to me I thought I forgot long
+time ago. I's had it purty hard to pay for de farm and den have it stoled
+from me when I's old and blind, but de good Lawd, he know all 'bout it and we
+all got to stand 'fore de jedgment some day soon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420051" id="n420051"></a>420051</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 184px;"><a href="images/162050v.png">
+<img src="images/162050r.png" width="184" height="300" alt="Louis Fowler" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Louis Fowler</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>LOUIS FOWLER, 84, was born a
+slave to Robert Beaver, in
+Macon Co., Georgia. Fowler did
+not take his father's name, but
+that of his stepfather, J. Fowler.
+After he was freed, Louis farmed
+for several years, then worked in
+packing plants in Fort Worth, Tex.
+He lives at 2706 Holland St., Fort
+Worth.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Dis cullud person am 84 years old and I's born on de plantation
+of Massa Robert Beaver, in old Georgia. He owned my mammy and
+'bout 50 slaves. Now, 'bout my pappy, I lets you judge. Look at my
+hair. De color am red, ain't it? My beard am red and my eyes is
+brown and my skin am light yellow. Now, who does you think my pappy
+was? You don't know, of course, but I knows, 'cause on dat plantation
+am a man dat am over six feet tall and his hair as red as a brick.</p>
+
+<p>"My mammy am married to a man named Fowler and he am owned by
+Massa Jack Fowler, on de place next to ours. Our place am middlin' big
+and fixed first class. He has first-class quarter for us cullud folks.
+De cabins am two and some three rooms and dey all built of logs and chinked
+with a piece of wood and daubed with dirt to fill de cracks. De
+way we'uns fix dat dirt am take de clay or gumbo which am sticky when it
+am wet. Dat dirt am soaked with water till it stick together and den
+hay or straw am mixed with it. When sich mud am daubed in de cracks
+it stay and dem cabins am sho' windproof and warm.</p>
+
+<p>"De treatment am good and Massa Beaver have de choice name 'mong
+he neighbors for bein' good to he niggers. No work on Sunday, no work on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
+Saturday evenin's. Dem times was for de cullud folks to do for demselves.
+Massa Beaver have it fixed disaway, he 'low each family a piece of groun'
+and dey can raise what dey likes.</p>
+
+<p>"De rations am measure out and de massa allus 'low plenty of meat
+and we has wheat flour. Mos' de niggers don't have wheat flour, but massa
+raises de wheat and we gits it. We kin have 'lasses and brown sugar but
+one thing we'uns has to watch am de waste, 'cause massa won't stand for dat.</p>
+
+<p>"De meat am cured with de hick'ry wood smoke and if you could git
+jus' one taste dat ham and bacon you'd never eat none of this nowadays meat.
+It sho' have a dif'rent taste.</p>
+
+<p>"We makes de cloth and de wool and I could card and spin and weave
+'fore I's big 'nough to work in de field. My mammy larned me to help her.
+We makes dye from de bark of walnut and de cherry and red oak trees, and
+some from berries but what dey is I forgit. Iffen we'uns wants clay red, we
+buries de cloth in red clay for a week and it takes on de color. Den we
+soaks de cloth in cold salt water and it stays colored.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa builded a log church house for we'uns cullud folks for to
+go to God. Dat nigger named Allen Beaver am de preacherman and de leader
+in all de parties, 'cause him can play de fiddle. No, Allen am not educated,
+but can he preach a pow'ful sermon. O, Lawd! He am inspire from de
+Lawd and he preached from his heartfelt.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere am only one time dat a nigger gits whupped on dat plantation
+and dat am not given by massa but by dem patterrollers. Massa don't
+gin'rally 'low dem patterrollers whup on his place, and all de niggers from
+round dere allus run from de patterrollers onto massa's land and den dey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
+safe. But in dis 'ticlar case, massa make de 'ception.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twas nigger Jack what dey chases home and he gits under de cabin
+and 'fused to come out. Massa say, 'In dis case I gwine make 'ception,
+'cause dat Jack he am too unreas'able. He allus chasin' after some nigger
+wench and not satisfied with de pass I give. Give him 25 lashes but don't
+draw de blood or leave de marks.'</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sar, it am de great sight to see Jack git dat whuppin'. Him
+am skeert, but dey ain't hurtin' him bad. Massa make him come out and dey
+tie him to a post and he starts to bawl and beller befo' a lick am struck.
+Say! Him beg like a good fellow. It am, 'Oh, massa, massa, Oh, massa, have
+mercy, don't let 'em whup me. Massa, I won't go off any more.' De patterrollers
+gives him a lick and Jack lets out a yell dat sounds like a mule
+bray and twice as loud.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere used to be a patterroller song what sent like dis:</p>
+
+<p>
+"Up 'de hill and down de holler<br />
+White man cotch nigger by de collar<br />
+Dat nigger run and dat nigger flew,<br />
+Dat nigger tore he shirt in two.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Well, while dey's whuppin' dat nigger, Jack, he couldn't run and
+he couldn't tear he shirt in two, but he holler till he tear he mouth in two.
+Jack say he never go off without de pass 'gain and he kept he word, too.</p>
+
+<p>"De big doin's am on Christmas Day and de massa have present for
+each cullud person. Dey am little things and I laughs when I thinks of them,
+but de cullud folks sho' 'joy dem and it show massa's heart am right. For de
+chillen it am candy and for de women, a pin or sich, and for de men, a knife or
+sich. On dat day, preacherman Allen sho' have de full heart, and he preach
+and preach.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But de war starts and it not so happy on massa's place and 'fore long
+he two sons goes to dat war. De massa show worryment 'cause dey fightin'
+here and dere and den come de day when dey fight right nex' to de massa's
+place. It am in de field next to we'uns and de two boys, young Charley
+and he brother, Bob, am in de fight. It am for sev'ral days de army am
+a-marchin' to de field and gittin' ready for de battle. Durin' dat time,
+de two boys comes home for a spell every day. Early one mornin' de shootin'
+starts and it am not much at first but it ain't long till it am a
+steady thunder and it keep up all day.</p>
+
+<p>"De missy am walkin' in de yard and den go in de house and out
+'gain. She am a-twistin' her hands and cryin'. She keeps sayin', 'Dey
+sho' gits kilt, my poor babies.' De massa talk to her to quiet her.
+Dat help me, too, 'cause I sho' skeert. Nobody do much work dat day, but
+stand round with quiverments and when dey talk, dey voice quiver. Why,
+even de buildin's quivered. Every once in de while, dere am an extry
+roar. Dat de cannon and every time I heered it, I jumps. I's sent to
+git de eggs and have 'bout five dozen in de basket, holdin' it in front of
+me with my two hands. All a sudden, one of dem extry shoots comes and down
+dis nigger kid go and my head hits into de basket. Dere I is, eggs oozin'
+all round me and I so skeert and fussed up I jus' lays and kicks. I wants
+to scream but I can't for de eggs in my mouth. To dis day I thinks of dat
+battle every time I eats eggs.</p>
+
+<p>"De nex' day after de battle am over, mos' us cullud folks goes to
+de field. Some of 'em buries de dead, and I hears 'em tell how in de low
+places de blood stand like water and de bodies all shoot to pieces.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Massa's sons not kilt and am de missy glad! She have allus
+colored folks come to de house and make us kneel down and she thank de
+Lawd for savin' her sons. Dey even go to other places and fights, but
+dey comes home after de war am over.</p>
+
+<p>"Surrender come and massa tells us we can stay or go and if we stay
+he pay us wages or we works on shares. Some go and some stay. Mammy and
+me goes to de Fowler place with my stepfather and we share crops for three
+year.</p>
+
+<p>"I stays with dem till I's 18 and den I gits married. Dat in 1871
+and my wife died in 1928 and we'uns have four chillen. All dat time I's
+farmed till 'bout 30 year ago when I works in de packin' plant here in
+Fort Worth. I works dere 20 years and den dey say I's too old and since
+den I works at de odd jobs till 'bout five years ago.</p>
+
+<p>"Since I's quit work at de packin' plant it am hard for dis cullud
+person. I soon uses up my savin's and den I's gone hongry plenty times.
+My chillen am old and dey havin' de hard time, too. My friends helps me
+a little and I gits de pension, but it am only $3.00 a month and, course,
+dat ain't 'nough.</p>
+
+<p>"After all dese years I's worked and 'haved, I never thinks I comes
+to where I couldn't git 'nough to eat. I's am wishful for de Lawd to call
+me to jedgment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420307" id="n420307"></a>420307</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>CHRIS FRANKLIN, 82, was born
+a slave of Judge Robert J.
+Looney, in Bossier Parish,
+Louisiana. Chris now lives
+in Beaumont, Texas, and supports
+himself by gardening
+and yard work. He is thrifty
+and owns his own home.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Yes, suh, dis is Chris Franklin. I signs my name C.C. Franklin,
+dat for Christopher Columbus Franklin. I's born in Bossier Parish, up in
+Louisiana, jes' twenty-five miles de other side of Shreveport. I's born dere
+in 1855, on Christmas Day, but I's raise up in Caddo Parish. Old massa move
+over dere when I 'bout a year old.</p>
+
+<p>"Old massa name Robert J. Looney and he a jedge and lawyer. He have a
+boy name R.J., Jr., but I's talkin' 'bout de old head, de old 'riginal. De
+missy, her name Lettie Looney. He weren't no farmer, jes' truck farm to raise
+de livin' for he household and slaves. He didn't have over a half dozen growed
+up slaves. Course, dey rears a lot of young'uns.</p>
+
+<p>"My pappy's name Solomon Lawson. He 'long to Jedge Lawson, what live
+near us. When freedom come, he done take de name Sol Franklin, what he say
+am he pappy's name.</p>
+
+<p>"Jedge Looney have de ord'nary frame house. Dey 'bout six, seven rooms
+in it, all under one roof. De dinin' room and cook room wasn't built off to
+deyself, like mos' big houses. It was a raise house, raise up on high pillars
+and dey could drive a hoss and buggy under it. He live on de Fairview Road.</p>
+
+<p>"Us slaves all live in one big slave cabin, built out of plank. It
+built sort-a like de 'partment house. Dey four rooms and each fam'ly have one
+room. Dey have a lamp and a candle for our comfort. It jes' a li'l, ord'nary
+brass lamp. Dey used to make 'em out of wax and tallow. Dey raise dere own
+bees and when dey rob de bee gums dey strain de honey and melt de wax with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+tallow to make it firmer. Dey tie one end de wick on de stick 'cross de mold
+and put in de melted wax and tallow.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey have a table and benches, too. But a chair de rare thing in a cabin.
+Dey make some with de split hick'ry or rawhide bottom. Dey have hay mattress.
+De tickin' am rice sacks. Us have mud chimney. Dey fix sticks like de ladder
+and mix mud and moss and grass in what dey calls 'cats'. Dey have rock backs,
+and, man, us have a sho' 'nough fire in 'em. Put a stick long as me and big as
+a porch post in dat fireplace. In cold weather dat last all day and all night.</p>
+
+<p>"When de parents workin' in de field, somebody look after de chillen. De
+nannies come in and nuss dem when time come. De white folks never put on 'strictions
+on de chillen till dey twelve, fourteen years old. Dey all wear de straight-cut
+slip. Dey give de li'l gals de slip dress and li'l panties. In wintertime dey
+give de boy's de li'l coat and pants and shoes, but no drawers or unnerwear. Dey
+give dem hard russet shoes in wintertime. Dey have brass toes. Dey plenty dur'ble.
+In summertime us didn't see no shoe.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Looney jes' as fine de man as ever make tracks. Christmas time
+come, he give 'em a few dollars and say go to the store and buy what us want.
+He give all de li'l nigger chillen gif's, jes' like he own. He git de jug of
+whiskey and plenty eggs and make de big eggnog for everybody. He treat us cullud
+folks jes' like he treat he own fam'ly. He never take no liquor 'cept at Christmas.
+He give us lots to eat at Christmas, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometime old missy come out and call all de li'l niggers in de house to
+play with her chillen. When us eat us have de tin plate and cup. Dey give us
+plenty milk and butter and 'taters and sich. Us all set on de floor and make 'way
+with dem rations.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dey had a li'l church house for de niggers and preachin' in de afternoon,
+and on into de night lots of times. Dey have de cullud preacher. He couldn't
+read. He jes' preach from nat'ral wit and what he larn from white folks. De
+whole outfit profess to be Baptis'.</p>
+
+<p>"De marryin' business go through by what massa say. De fellow git de
+massa's consen'. Massa mos'ly say yes without waitin', 'cause marryin' mean more
+niggers for him comin' on. He git de jedge or preacher to marry dem. Iffen de
+man live on one plantation and de gal on 'nother, he have to git de pass to go see
+her. Dat so de patterrollers not git him.</p>
+
+<p>"De slaves used to have balls and frolics in dey cabins. But iffen dey
+go to de frolic on 'nother plantation dey git de pass. Dat so dey can cotch
+runaway niggers. I never heared of stealin' niggers, 'cept dis-a-way. Sometime
+de runaway nigger git fifty or hundred miles away and show up dere as de stray
+slave. Dat massa where he show up take care of him so long, den lay claim to
+him. Dat call harborin' de nigger.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey lots of places where de young massas has heirs by nigger gals. Dey
+sell dem jes' like other slaves. Dat purty common. It seem like de white women
+don't mind. Dey didn't 'ject, 'cause dat mean more slaves.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes de white folks has de big deer drive. Dem and de niggers go
+down in de bottoms to drive deers up. Dey rid big, fine hosses and start de
+deers runnin'. Dey raise dere own dogs. Massa sho' careful 'bout he hounds.
+He train dem good and treat dem good, too. He have somethin' cook reg'lar for
+dem. Dey hunts foxes and wolves and plenty dem kinds varmints.</p>
+
+<p>"I seen sojers' by de thousands. When 'mancipation come out massa come to
+de back door with de paper and say, 'Yous free.' He furnish dem with all dey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
+needs and give dem part de crop. He 'vide up de pig litters and such 'mongst
+dem. He give dem de start. Den after two, three year he commence takin' out
+for dere food and boots and clothes and sich.</p>
+
+<p>"De night de pusson die dey has de wake and sing and pray all night
+long. Dey all very 'ligious in dere profession. Dey knock off all work so de
+slaves can go to de buryin'.</p>
+
+<p>"De white folks 'low dem to have de frolic with de fiddle or banjo or
+windjammer. Dey dances out on de grass, forty or fifty niggers, and dem big
+gals nineteen year old git out dere barefoot as de goose. It jes' de habit
+of de times, 'cause dey all have shoes. Sometimes dey call de jig dance and
+some of dem sho' dance it, too. De prompter call, 'All git ready.' Den he
+holler, 'All balance,' and den he sing out, 'Swing you pardner,' and dey does
+it. Den he say, 'First man head off to de right,' and dere dey goes. Or he
+say, 'All promenade,' and dey goes in de circle. One thing dey calls, 'Bird
+in de Cage.' Three joins hands round de gal in de middle, and dance round
+her, and den she git out and her pardner git in de center and dey dance dat
+way awhile.</p>
+
+<p>"After freedom dey have de log cabin schoolhouse. De first teacher
+was de cullud women name Mary Chapman. I near wore out dat old blueblack
+speller tryin' to larn A B C's.</p>
+
+<p>"I leaves Caddo Parish in 1877 for Galveston, and leaves dere on de
+four mast schooner for Leesburg and up de Calcasieu River. Den I goes to de
+Cameron Parish and in 1879 I comes to Beaumont. I marries Mandy Watson in
+1882 and she died in 1932. Us never have no chillen but 'dopts two. Us marry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
+in de hotel dinin'-room, 'cause I's workin' for de hotel man, J.B. Goodhue.
+De Rev. Elder Venable, what am da old cullud preacher, marries us. I didn't
+git marry like in slavery time, I's got a great big marriage certif'cate
+hangin' on de wall of my house.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'longs to several lodges, de Knights of Labor and de Knights of Honor
+and de Pilgrims. I never hold no office. I's jes' de bench member. I's a member
+of de Live Lake Missionary Baptist Church.</p>
+
+<p>"I's got de big house of my own, on de corner of Roberts Avenue and San
+Antonio street. After my wife die, I gits de man to come and live dere with me.
+Dat's all I knows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420002" id="n420002"></a>420002</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 195px;"><a href="images/162060v.png">
+<img src="images/162060r.png" width="195" height="300" alt="Orelia Alexie Franks" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Orelia Alexie Franks</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ORELIA ALEXIE FRANKS was born
+on the plantation of Valerian
+Martin, near Opelousas, Louisiana.
+She does not know her
+age, but thinks she is near
+ninety. Her voice has the musical
+accent of the French Negro.
+She has lived in Beaumont, Texas,
+many years.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I's born on Mr. George Washington's birthday', the twenty-second of
+February but I don't know what year. My old massa was Valerian Martin
+and he come from foreign country. He come from Canada and he Canada
+French. He wife name Malite Guidry. Old massa a good Catholic and he
+taken all the li'l slave chillen to be christen. Oh, he's a Christian
+massa and I used to be a Catholic but now I's a Apostolic, but I's
+christen in St. Johns Catholic Church, what am close to Lafayette, where
+I's born.</p>
+
+<p>"My pa name Alexis Franks and he was American and Creole. My ma
+name Fanire Martin and I's raise where everybody talk French. I talks
+American but I talks French goodest.</p>
+
+<p>"Old massa he big cane and cotton farmer and have big plantation
+and raise everything, and us all well treat. Dey feed us right, too.
+Raise big hawg in de pen and raise lots of beef. All jes' for to feed
+he cullud folks.</p>
+
+<p>"Us quarters out behind de big house and old massa come round through
+de quarters every mornin' and see how us niggers is. If us sick he call
+nuss. She old slavery woman. She come look at 'em. If dey bad sick dey
+send for de doctor. Us house all log house. Dey all dab with dirt 'tween
+de logs. Dey have dirt chimney make out of sticks and dab with mud. Dey
+<i>[Transcriber's Note: unfinished sentence at end of page]</i>
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
+
+"Lots of time we eat coosh-coosh. Dat make out of meal and water.
+You bile de water and salt it, den put in de cornmeal and stir it and bile
+it. Den you puts milk or clabber or syrup on it and eat it.</p>
+
+<p>"Old massa have de graveyard a purpose to bury de cullud folks in.
+Dey have cullud preacher. Dey have funeral in de graveyard. Dat nigger
+preacher he a Mef'dist.</p>
+
+<p>"Old massa son-in-law, he overseer. He 'low nobody to beat de
+slaves. Us li'l ones git spank when we bad. Dey put us 'cross de knee
+and spank us where dey allus spank chillen.</p>
+
+<p>"Christmas time dey give big dinner. Dey give all de old men
+whiskey. Everybody have big time.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey make lots of sugar. After dey finish cookin' de sugar dey
+draw off what left from de pots and give it to us chillen. Us have
+candy pullin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey weave dey own cloth. Us have good clothes. Dey weave de
+cloth for make mattress and stuff 'em with moss. Massa sho' believe to
+serve he niggers good. I see old massa when he die. Us see old folks
+cry and us cry, too. Dey have de priest and burn de candles. Us sho'
+miss old massa.</p>
+
+<p>"I see lots of sojers. Dey so many like hair on your head. Dey
+Yankees. Dey call 'em bluejackets. Dey a fight up near massa's house.
+Us climb in tree for to see. Us hear bullets go 'zoom' through de air
+'round dat tree but us didn't know it was bullets. A man rid up on a
+hoss and tell massa to git us pickaninnies out dat tree or dey git kilt.
+De Yankees have dat battle and den sot us niggers free.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Old massa, he de kind man what let de niggers have dey prayer-meetin'.
+He give 'em a big cabin for dat. Shout? Yes, Lawd! Sing
+like dis:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Mourner, fare you well,<br />
+Gawd 'Mighty bless you,<br />
+Till we meets again.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Us sings 'nother song:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Sinner blind,<br />
+Johnnie, can't you ride no more?<br />
+Sinner blind.<br />
+Your feets may be slippin'<br />
+Your soul git lost.<br />
+Johnnie, can't you ride no more?<br />
+Yes, Lawd,<br />
+Day by day you can't see,<br />
+Johnnie, can't you ride no more?<br />
+Yes, Lawd.'"<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420136" id="n420136"></a>420136</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ROSANNA FRAZIER was born a slave
+on the Frazier plantation in Mississippi.
+She does not remember
+her masters given name, nor does
+she know her age, although from
+her memories of various events
+during the Civil War, she believes
+she is close to ninety, at least.
+Rosanna is blind and bedridden,
+and is cared for by friends in
+a little house in Pear Orchard
+Negro Settlement, in Beaumont,
+Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My mammy was a freeborn woman named Viny Frazier and she come
+from a free country. She was on her way to school when dey stoled her,
+when she de young gal. De spec'lator gang stoled her and brung her and
+sold her in Red River, in Mississippi. Missy Mary, she buy her. Missy
+Mary married den to one man named Pool and she have two boys call Josh
+and Bill. After dat man die, she marry Marse Frazier.</p>
+
+<p>"My daddy name Jerry Durden and after I's born they brings us
+all to Texas, but my daddy belong to de Neylands, so we loses him. My
+white folks moves to a big plantation close to Woodville, in Tyler County,
+and Marse Frazier have de store and plenty of stock. He come first from
+Georgia.</p>
+
+<p>"All us little chillen, black and white, play togedder and
+Marse Frazier, he raise us. His chillen call Sis and Texana and Robert
+and John. Marse Frazier he treat us nice and de other white folks calls
+us 'free niggers', and wouldn't 'low us on dere places. Dey 'fraid dere
+niggers git dissatisfy with dey own treatment. Sho's you born, iffen one
+of us git round dem plantations, dey jus' cut us to pieces with de whip.
+Some of dem white folks sho' was mean, and dey work de niggers all day
+in de sun and cut dem with de whip, and sho' done 'em up bad. Dat on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
+other places, not on ours.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse Frazier, he didn't work us too hard and give Saturday and Sunday
+off. He's all right and give good food. People sho' would rare off from him,
+'cause he too good. He was de Methodist preacher and furnish us church. Sometimes
+he has camp meeting and dey cook out doors with de skillicks. Sometimes
+he has corn shucking time and we has hawg meat and meal bread and whiskey and
+eggnog and chicken.</p>
+
+<p>"De books he brung us didn't do us no good, 'cause us wouldn't larn
+nothin'. Us too busy playin' and huntin' good berries in de wood, de huckleberry
+and grape and muscadine and chinquapins. All dis time de war was fixin' and I
+seed two, three soldiers round spyin'. When peace 'clared missy's two boys
+come back from de war. We stays with Marse Frazier two year and den I goes
+and gits married to de man call Baker.</p>
+
+<p>"I done been blind like dis over 40 year. One Sunday I stay all night
+with a man and he wife and I was workin' as woodchopper on de Santa Fe route
+up Beaumont to Tyler County. After us git up and I starts 'way, I ain't gone
+but 15, 16 yard when I hear somethin' say, 'Rose, you done somethin' you
+ain't ought.' I say, 'No, Lawd, no.' Den de voice say, 'Somethin' gwine happen
+to you,' and de next mornin' I's blind as de bat and I ain't never seed since.</p>
+
+<p>"Some try tell me snow or sweat or smoke de reason. Dat ain't de
+reason. Dey a old, old, slowfooted somethin' from Louisiana and dey say he
+de conjure man, one dem old hoodoo niggers. He git mad at me de last plum-ripenin'
+time and he make up powdered rattlesnake dust and pass dat through
+my hair and I sho' ain't seed no more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dat not de onliest thing dem old conjure men do. Dey powder
+up de rattle offen de snake and tie it up in de little old rag bag and
+dey do devilment with it. Day git old scorpion and make bad medicine.
+Dey git dirt out de graveyard and dat dirt, after dey speak on it, would
+make you go crazy.</p>
+
+<p>"When dey wants conjure you, dey sneak round and git de hair
+combin' or de finger or toenail, or anything natural 'bout your body, and
+works de hoodoo on it.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey make de straw man or de clay man and dey puts de pin in he
+leg and you leg gwineter git hurt or sore jus' where dey puts de pin.
+Iffen dey puts de pin through de heart you gwineter die and ain't nothin'
+kin save you.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey make de charm to wear round de neck or de ankle and dey
+make de love powder, too, out de love vine, what grow in de woods. Dey
+biles de leaves and powders 'em. Dey sho' works, I done try 'em.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420097" id="n420097"></a>420097</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 207px;"><a href="images/162066v.png">
+<img src="images/162066r.png" width="207" height="300" alt="Priscilla Gibson" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Priscilla Gibson</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>PRISCILLA GIBSON is not sure of
+her age, but thinks she was born
+about 1856, in Smith County, Mississippi,
+to Mary Puckett and
+her Indian husband. They belonged
+to Jesse Puckett, who
+owned a plantation on the Strong
+River. Priscilla now lives in
+Jasper, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Priscilla Gibson is my name, and I's bo'n in Smith
+County, way over in Mis'ippi, sometime befo' de War. I figger
+it was 'bout 1856, 'cause I's old enough to climb de fence and
+watch dem musterin' in de troops when de war began. Dey tol'
+me I's nine year ole when de War close, but dey ain' sure of
+dat, even. My neighbor, Uncle Bud Adams, he 83, and I's clippin'
+close at he heels.</p>
+
+<p>"Mammy's name was Mary Puckett, but I never seed my
+father as I knows of. Don' know if he was a whole Injun or
+part white man. Never seed but one brother and his name was
+Jake. Dey took him to de War with de white boys, to cook and
+min' de camp and he took pneumony and die.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa's name was Jesse Puckett, and Missus' name Mis'
+Katie. Dey hab big fam'ly and dey live in a big wooden-beam house
+with a big up-stair'. De house was right on de highway from
+Raleigh to Brandon, with de Strong River jis' below us. Dey took
+in and 'commadated travelers 'cause dey warn' hotels den.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Massa have hunner's of acres. You could walk all day and
+you never git offen his lan'. An' he have gran' furniture and other
+things in de house. I kin remember dem, 'cause I use' to he'p 'round
+de house, run errands and fan Mis' Katie and sich. I 'members chairs
+with silk coverin's on 'em and dere was de gran' lights, big lamps
+with de roses on de shades. And eve'ywhere de floors with rugs and
+de rugs was pretty, dey wasn' like dese thin rugs you sees nowadays.
+No, ma'am, dey has big flowers on 'em and de feets sinks in 'em. I
+useter lie down on one of dem rugs in Mis' Katie's room when she's
+asleep and I kin stop fannin.'</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Puckett was tol'able good to de slaves. We has clothes
+made of homespun what de nigger women weaved, and de little boys
+wo' long-tail shirts, with no pants till they's grown. Massa raised
+sheep and dey make us wool clothes for winter, but we has no shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"De white folks didn' larn us read and write but dey was good
+to us 'cep' when some niggers try to run away and den dey whips 'em
+hard. We has plenty to eat and has prayer meetin's with singin' and
+shoutin', and we chilluns played marbles and jump de rope.</p>
+
+<p>"After freedom come all lef' but me 'cause Missus say she have
+me boun' to her till I git my age. But I's res'less one night and
+my sister, Georgy Ann, come see me, and I run off with her, but dey
+never comes after me. I was scart dey would, 'cause I 'membered 'bout
+our neighbor, ole Means, and his slave, Sylvia, and she run away and
+was in de woods, and he'd git on de hoss, take de dogs and set 'em on
+her, and let dem bite her and tear her clothes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420303" id="n420303"></a>420303</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>GABRIEL GILBERT was born in
+slavery on the plantation of
+Belizare Brassard, in New
+Iberia Parish, Louisiana. He
+does not know his age, but
+appears to be about eighty.
+He has lived in Beaumont,
+Texas, for sixteen years.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My old massa was Belizare Broussard. He was my mom's massa.
+He had a big log house what he live in. De places 'tween de logs was
+fill with dirt. De quarters de slaves live in was make out of dirt. Dey
+put up posties in de ground and bore holes in de posts and put in pickets
+'cross from one post to the other. Den dey build up de sides with mud.
+De floor and everything was dirt. Dey had a schoolhouse built for de white
+chillen de same way. De cullud chillen didn't have no school.</p>
+
+<p>"Dem was warm healthy houses us grew up in. Dey used to raise
+better men den in dem houses dan now. My pa name was Joseph Gilbert. He
+old massa was Belleau Prince.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know what a store was when I was growin' up. Us didn't
+have store things like now. Us had wooden pan and spoon dem times. I never
+see no iron plow dem days. Nothin' was iron on de plow 'cept de share.
+I tell dese youngsters, 'You in hebben now from de time I come up.' When
+a man die dem days, dey use de ox cart to carry de corpse.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa have 'bout four hundred acres and lots of slaves. He raise
+sugar cane. He have a mill and make brown sugar. He raise cotton and corn,
+too. He have plenty stock on de place. He give us plenty to eat. He was
+a nice man. He wasn't brutish. He treat he slaves like hisself. I never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
+'member see him whip nobody. He didn't 'low no ill treatment. All de folks
+round he place say he niggers ruint and spoiled.</p>
+
+<p>"De li'l white folks and nigger folks jus' play round like brudder and
+sister and us all eat at de white table. I slep' in de white folks house, too.
+My godfather and godmother was rich white folks. I still Cath'lic.</p>
+
+<p>"I seed sojers but I too li'l to know nothin' 'bout dem. Dey didn't worry
+me a-tall. I didn't git close to de battle.</p>
+
+<p>"My mammy weave cloth out cotton and wool. I 'member de loom. It go
+'boom-boom-boom.' Dat de shuttle goin' cross. My daddy, he de smart man.
+I'll never be like him long as I live in dis world. He make shoes. He build
+house. He do anything. He and my mammy neither one ever been brutalize'.</p>
+
+<p>"De first work I done was raisin' cotton and sugar cane and sweet and
+Irish 'taters. I used to cook sugar.</p>
+
+<p>"I marry on twenty-second of February. My wife was Medora Labor. She
+been dead thirty-five year now. I never marry no second woman. I love my wife
+so much I never want nobody else. Us had six chillen. Two am livin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Goin' back when I a slave, massa have a store. When de priest come dey
+hold church in dat store. Old massa have sev'ral boys. Dey went after some
+de slave gals. Dey have chillen by dem. Dem gals have dere cabins and dere
+chillen, what am half white.</p>
+
+<p>"After while dem boys marry. But dey allus treat dey chillen by de slave
+womens good. Dey white wife treat dem good, too, most like dey dere own chillen.</p>
+
+<p>"Old massa have plenty money. Land am only two bits de acre. Some places
+it cost nothing. Dey did haulin' in ox-carts. A man what had mules had something
+extra.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Us have plenty wild game, wild geese and ducks. Fishin' am mighty
+good. Dey was 'gaters, too. I seed dem bite a man's arm off.</p>
+
+<p>"If a slave feelin' bad dey wouldn't make him work. My uncle and my
+mammy dey never work nothing to speak of. Dey allus have some kind complaint.
+Ain't no tellin' what it gwine be, but you could 'low something ailin' dem!</p>
+
+<p>"I 'member dey a white man. He had a gif'. I don't care what kind of
+animal, a dog or a hoss, dat man he work on it and it never leave you or you
+house. If anybody have toothache or earache he take a brand new nail what
+ain't never work befo' and work dat round you tooth or ear. Dat break up
+de toothache or earache right away. He have li'l prayer he say. I don't
+know what it was.</p>
+
+<p>"I's seed ghosties. I talk with dem, too. Sometimes dey like people.
+Sometimes dey like animal, maybe white dog. I allus feel chilly when dey come
+round me. I talk with my wife after she dead. She tell me, 'Don't you forgit
+to pray.' She say dis world corrupt and you got to fight it out."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420230" id="n420230"></a>420230</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MATTIE GILMORE lives in a
+little cabin on E. Fifth Avenue,
+in Corsicana, Texas. A smile
+came to her lips, as she recalled
+days when she was a slave
+in Mobile, Alabama. She has
+no idea how old she is. Her
+master, Thomas Barrow, brought
+his slaves to Athens, Texas,
+during the Civil War, and
+Mattie had two children at
+that time, so she is probably
+about ninety.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I's born in Mobile, Alabama, and I don't have no idea when. My
+white folks never did tell me how old I was. My own dear mammy died 'fore
+I can remember and my stepma didn't take no time to tell me nothin'. Her
+name was Mary Barrow and papa's name was Allison Barrow, and I had sisters,
+Rachel and Lou and Charity, and a brother, Allison.</p>
+
+<p>"My master sold Rachel when she was jus' a girl. I sho' did cry. They
+put her on a block and sold her off. I heared they got a thousand dollars for
+her, but I never seed her no more till after freedom. A man named Dick Burdon,
+from Kaufman County, bought her. After freedom I heared she's sick and brung
+her home, but she was too far gone.</p>
+
+<p>"We lived in a log house with dirt floors, warm in winter but sho' hot
+in summer, no screens or nothin', <a name='TC_13'></a><ins title="hus'">jus'</ins> homemade doors. We had homemade beds
+out of planks they picked up around. Mattresses nothin', we had shuck beds.
+But, anyway, you takes it, we was better off den dan now.</p>
+
+<p>"I worked in the fields till Rachel was sold, den tooken her place,
+doin' kitchen work and fannin' flies off de table with a great, long limb.
+I liked dat. I got plenty to eat and not so hot. We had jus' food to
+make you stand up and work. It wasn't none the good foolish things we has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
+now. We had cornbread and blackeyed peas and beans and sorghum 'lasses. Old
+master give us our rations and iffen dat didn't fill us up, we jus' went lank.
+Sometimes we had possum and rabbits and fish, iffen we cotched dem on Sunday.
+I seed Old Missy parch coffee in a skittle, and it good coffee, too. We couldn't
+go to the store and buy things, 'cause they warn't no stores hardly.</p>
+
+<p>"When dey's hoein' cotton or corn, everybody has to keep up with de
+driver, not hurry so fast, but workin' steady. Some de women what had suckin'
+babies left dem in de shade while dey worked, and one time a big, bald eagle
+flew down by one dem babies and picked it up and flew away with it. De mama
+couldn't git it and we never heared of dat baby 'gain.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'member when we come from Mobile to Texas. By time we heared de Yankees
+was comin' dey got all dere gold together and Miss Jane called me and give me a
+whole sack of pure gold and silver, and say bury it in de orchard. I sho' was
+scart, but I done what she said. Dey was more gold in a <a name='TC_14'></a><ins title="bit">big</ins> desk, and de Yanks
+pulled de top of dat desk and got de gold. Miss Jane had a purty gold ring on
+her finger and de captain yanked it off. I said, 'Miss Jane, is dey gwine give
+you ring back?' All she said was, 'Shet you mouth,' and dat's what I did.</p>
+
+<p>"Dat night dey digs up de buried gold and we left out. We jus' traveled
+at night and rested in daytime. We was scart to make a fire. Dat was awful times.
+All on de way to de Mississip', we seed dead men layin' everywhere, black and
+white.</p>
+
+<p>"While we's waitin' to go cross de Mississip' a white man come up and
+asks Marse Barrow how many niggers he has, and counts us all. While we's waitin'
+de guns 'gins to go boom, boom, and you could hear all dat noise, it so close.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
+When we gits on de boat it flops dis way and dat scart me. I sho' don't want
+to see no more days like dat one, with war and boats.</p>
+
+<p>"We fixes up a purty good house and quarters and gits settled up
+round Athens. And it ain't so long 'fore a paper come make us free. Some de
+slaves laughin' and some cryin' and it a funny place to be. Marse Barrow asks
+my stepma to stay cook and he'd pay her some money for it. We stayed four or
+five years. Marse Barrow give each he slaves somethin' when dey's freed. Lots
+of master put dem out without a thing. But de trouble with most niggers, dey
+never done no managin' and didn't know how. De niggers suffered from de war,
+iffen dey did git freedom from it.</p>
+
+<p>"I's already married de slave way in Mobile and had three chillen. My
+husband died 'fore war am over and I marries Las Gilmore and never has no more
+chillen. I has no livin' kinfolks I knows of. When we come here Las done
+any work he could git and bought this li'l house, but I can't pay taxes on it,
+but, sho', de white folks won't put me out. I done git my leg cut off in a train
+wreck, so I can't work, and I's too old, noways. I don't has no idea how old I is.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420245" id="n420245"></a>420245</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 184px;"><a href="images/162074v.png">
+<img src="images/162074r.png" width="184" height="300" alt="Andrew Goodman" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Andrew Goodman</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ANDREW GOODMAN, 97, was born
+a slave of the Goodman family,
+near Birmingham, Alabama. His
+master moved to Smith County,
+Texas, when Andrew was three
+years old. Andrew is a frail,
+kindly old man, who lives in
+his memories. He lives at
+2607 Canton St., Dallas, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was born in slavery and I think them days was better for the
+niggers than the days we see now. One thing was, I never was cold and
+hongry when my old master lived, and I has been plenty hongry and cold
+a lot of times since he is gone. But sometimes I think Marse Goodman
+was the bestes' man Gawd made in a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother, Martha Goodman, 'longed to Marse Bob Goodman when she
+was born, but my paw come from Tennessee and Marse Bob heired him from some
+of his kinfolks what died over there. The Goodmans must have been fine
+folks all-a-way round, 'cause my paw said them that raised him was good
+to they niggers.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Marse never 'lowed none of his nigger families separated. He
+'lowed he thought it right and fittin' that folks stay together, though
+I heard tell of some that didn't think so.</p>
+
+<p>"My Missus was just as good as Marse Bob. My maw was a puny little
+woman that wasn't able to do work in the fields, and she puttered round
+the house for the Missus, doin' little odd jobs. I played round with
+little Miss Sallie and little Mr. Bob, and I ate with them and slept with
+them. I used to sweep off the steps and do things, and she'd brag on me
+and many is the time I'd git to noddin' and go to sleep, and she'd pick
+me up and put me in bed with her chillun.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Marse Bob didn't put his little niggers in the fields till they's big
+'nough to work, and the mammies was give time off from the fields to come
+back to the nursin' home to suck the babies. He didn't never put the niggers
+out in bad weather. He give us something to do, in out of the weather, like
+shellin' corn and the women could spin and knit. They made us plenty of good
+clothes. In summer we wore long shirts, split up the sides, made out of
+lowerings&mdash;that's same as cotton sacks was made out of. In winter we
+had good jeans and knitted sweaters and knitted socks.</p>
+
+<p>"My paw was a shoemaker. He'd take a calfhide and make shoes with
+the hairy sides turned in, and they was warm and kept your feet dry. My
+maw spent a lot of time cardin' and spinnin' wool, and I allus had plenty
+things.</p>
+
+<p>"Life was purty fine with Marse Bob. He was a man of plenty. He had
+a lot of land and he built him a big log house when he come to Texas. He
+had sev'ral hundred head of cattle and more than that many hawgs. We raised
+cotton and grain and chickens and vegetables, and most anything anybody could
+ask for. Some places the masters give out a peck of meal and so many pounds
+of meat to a family for them a week's rations, and if they et it up that was
+all they got. But Marse Bob allus give out plenty, and said, 'If you need
+more you can have it, 'cause ain't any going to suffer on my place.'</p>
+
+<p>"He built us a church, and a old man, Kenneth Lyons, who was a slave of
+the Lyon's family nearby, used to git a pass every Sunday mornin' and come
+preach to us. He was a man of good learnin' and the best preacher I ever
+heard. He baptised in a little old mudhole down back of our place. Nearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
+all the boys and gals gits converted when they's 'bout twelve or fifteen
+year old. Then on Sunday afternoon, Marse Bob larned us to read and write.
+He told us we oughta git all the learnin' we could.</p>
+
+<p>"Once a week the slaves could have any night they want for a dance
+or frolic. Mance McQueen was a slave 'longing on the Dewberry place, what
+could play a fiddle, and his master give him a pass to come play for us.
+Marse Bob give us chickens or kilt a fresh beef or let us make 'lasses candy.
+We could choose any night, 'cept in the fall of the year. Then we worked
+awful hard and didn't have the time. We had a gin run by horsepower and
+after sundown, when we left the fields, we used to gin a bale of cotton
+every night. Marse allus give us from Christmas Eve through New Year's Day
+off, to make up for the hard work in the fall.</p>
+
+<p>"Christmas time everybody got a present and Marse Bob give a big
+hawg to every four families. We had money to buy whiskey with. In spare time
+we'd make cornshuck horse collars and all kinds of baskets, and Marse bought
+them off us. What he couldn't use, he sold for us. We'd take post oak and
+split it thin with drawin' knives and let it git tough in the sun, and then
+weave it into cotton baskets and fish baskets and little fancy baskets. The
+men spent they money on whiskey, 'cause everything else was furnished. We
+raised our own tobacco and hung it in the barn to season, and a'body could go
+git it when they wanted it.</p>
+
+<p>"We allus got Saturday afternoons off to fish and hunt. We used to
+have fish fries and plenty game in them days.</p>
+
+<p>"Course, we used to hear 'bout other places where they had nigger
+drivers and beat the slaves. But I never did see or hear tell of one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+master's slaves gittin' a beatin'. We had a overseer, but didn't know what
+a nigger driver was. Marse Bob had some nigger dogs like other places, and
+used to train them for fun. He'd git some the boys to run for a hour or so
+and then put the dogs on the trail. He'd say, 'If you hear them gittin'
+near, take to a tree.' But Marse Bob never had no niggers to run off.</p>
+
+<p>"Old man Briscoll, who had a place next to ours, was vicious cruel. He
+was mean to his own blood, beatin' his chillen. His slaves was afeared all
+the time and hated him. Old Charlie, a good, old man who 'longed to him, run
+away and stayed six months in the woods 'fore Briscoll cotched him. The
+niggers used to help feed him, but one day a nigger 'trayed him, and Briscoe
+put the dogs on him and cotched him. He made to Charlie like he wasn't goin'
+to hurt him none, and got him to come peaceful. When he took him home, he
+tied him and beat him for a turrible long time. Then he took a big, pine
+torch and let burnin' pitch drop in spots all over him. Old Charlie was
+sick 'bout four months and then he died.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse Bob knowed me better'n most the slaves, 'cause I was round the
+house more. One day he called all the slaves to the yard. He only had sixty-six
+then, 'cause he had 'vided with his son and daughter when they married.
+He made a little speech. He said, 'I'm going to a war, but I don't think
+I'll be gone long, and I'm turnin' the overseer off and leavin' Andrew in
+charge of the place, and I wants everything to go on, just like I was here.
+Now, you all mind what Andrew says, 'cause if you don't, I'll make it rough
+on you when I come back home.' He was jokin', though, 'cause he wouldn't
+have done nothing to them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then he said to me, 'Andrew, you is old 'nough to be a man and
+look after things. Take care of Missus and see that none the niggers wants,
+and try to keep the place going.'</p>
+
+<p>"We didn't know what the war was 'bout, but master was gone four years.
+When Old Missus heard from him, she'd call all the slaves and tell us the news
+and read us his letters. Little parts of it she wouldn't read. We never
+heard of him gittin' hurt none, but if he had, Old Missus wouldn't tell us,
+'cause the niggers used to cry and pray over him all the time. We never heard
+tell what the war was 'bout.</p>
+
+<p>"When Marse Bob come home, he sent for all the slaves. He was sittin'
+in a yard chair, all tuckered out, and shuck hands all round, and said he's
+glad to see us. Then he said, 'I got something to tell you. You is jus' as
+free as I is. You don't 'long to nobody but you'selves. We went to the war
+and fought, but the Yankees done whup us, and they say the niggers is free.
+You can go where you wants to go, or you can stay here, jus' as you likes.'
+He couldn't help but cry.</p>
+
+<p>"The niggers cry and don't know much what Marse Bob means. They is
+sorry 'bout the freedom, 'cause they don't know where to go, and they's allus
+'pend on Old Marse to look after them. Three families went to get farms for
+theyselves, but the rest just stay on for hands on the old place.</p>
+
+<p>"The Federals has been comin' by, even 'fore Old Marse come home. They
+all come by, carryin' they little budgets, and if they was walkin' they'd look
+in the stables for a horse or mule, and they jus' took what they wanted of corn
+or livestock. They done the same after Marse Bob come home. He jus' said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
+'Let them go they way, 'cause that's what they're going to do, anyway.' We was
+scareder of them than we was of the debbil. But they spoke right kindly to us
+cullud folks. They said, 'If you got a good master and want to stay, well, you
+can do that, but now you can go where you want to, 'cause ain't nobody going to
+stop you.'</p>
+
+<p>"The niggers can't hardly git used to the idea. When they wants to leave
+the place, they still go up to the big house for a pass. They jus' can't understand
+'bout the freedom. Old Marse <a name='TC_15'></a><ins title="of">or</ins>Missus say, 'You don't need no pass. All
+you got to do is jus' take you foot in you hand and go.'</p>
+
+<p>"It seem like the war jus' plumb broke Old Marse up. It wasn't long till he
+moved into Tyler and left my paw runnin' the farm on a halfance with him and the
+niggers workers. He didn't live long, but I forgits jus' how long. But when
+Mr. Bob heired the old place, he 'lowed we'd jus' go 'long the way his paw has
+made the trade with my paw.</p>
+
+<p>"Young Mr. Bob 'parently done the first rascality I ever heard of a
+Goodman doin'. The first year we worked for him we raised lots of grain and other
+things and fifty-seven bales of cotton. Cotton was fifty-two cents a pound and
+he shipped it all away, but all he ever gave us was a box of candy and a sack of
+store tobacco and a sack of sugar. He said the 'signment done got lost. Paw said
+to let it go, 'cause we had allus lived by what the Goodman had said.</p>
+
+<p>"I got married and lived on the old place till I was in my late fifties.
+I had seven chillun, but if I got any livin' now, I don't know where they is now.
+My paw and maw got to own a little piece of land not far from the old place, and
+paw lived to be 102 and maw 106. I'm the last one of any of my folks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"For twenty years my health ain't been so good, and I can't work
+even now, though my health is better'n in the past. I had hemorraghes. All
+my folks died on me, and it's purty rough on a old man like me. My white folks
+is all dead or I wouldn't be 'lowed to go hongry and cold like I do, or have to
+pay rent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420060" id="n420060"></a>420060</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 192px;"><a href="images/162081av.png">
+<img src="images/162081ar.png" width="192" height="300" alt="Austin Grant (A)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Austin Grant (A)</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 191px;"><a href="images/162081bv.png">
+<img src="images/162081br.png" width="191" height="300" alt="Austin Grant (B)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Austin Grant (B)</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>AUSTIN GRANT came to Texas from
+Mississippi with his grandfather,
+father, mother and brother. George
+Harper owned the family. He raised
+cotton on Peach Creek, near Gonzales.
+Austin was hired out by his master
+and after the war his father hired
+him out to the Riley Ranch on Seco
+Creek, above D'hanis. He then
+bought a farm in the slave settlement
+north of Hondo. He is 89
+or 90 years old.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I'm mixed up on my age, I'm 'fraid, for the Bible got
+burned up that the master's wife had our ages in. She told me my
+age, which would make me 89, but I believe I come nearer bein' 91,
+accordin' to the way my mother figured it out.</p>
+
+<p>"I belonged to George Harper, he was Judge Harper. The'
+was my father, mother and two boys. He brought us from Mississippi,
+but I don' 'member what part they come from. We settled down here
+at Gonzeles, on Peach Creek, and he farmed one year there. Then he
+moved out here to Medina County, right here on Hondo Creek. I dont
+'member how many acres he had, but he had a big farm. He had at
+least eight whole slave families. He sold 'em when he wanted money.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother's name was Mary Harper and my father's name was
+Ike Harper, and they belonged to the Harpers, too. You know, after
+they was turned loose they had to name themselves. My father named
+himself Grant and his brother named himself Glover, and my grandfather
+was Filmore. They had some kin' of law you had to git away from your
+boss' name so they named themselves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Our house we had to live in, I tell you we had a tough
+affair, a picket concern, you might say no house a-tall. The beds was
+one of your own make; if you knowed how to make one, you had one, but
+of course the chillen slept on the floor, patched up some way.</p>
+
+<p>"We went barefooted in the summer and winter, too. You had
+to prepare that for yourself, and if you didn' have head enough to prepare
+for yourself, you went without. I don' see how they done as well
+as they done, 'cause some winters was awful cold, but I always said the
+Lawd was with 'em.</p>
+
+<p><i>[Handwritten Note: 'used']</i></p>
+
+<p>"We didn' have no little garden, we never had no time to work
+no garden. When you could see to work, you was workin' for him. Ho!
+You didn' know what money was. He never paid you anything, you never got
+to see none. Some of the Germans would give the old ones a little piece
+of money, but the chillen, pshaw! They never got to see nothin.'</p>
+
+<p>"He was a pretty good boss. You didn' have to work Sunday and
+part of Saturday and in the evenin', you had that. He fed us good. Sometimes,
+if you was crowded, you had to work all day Saturday. But usually
+he give you that, so you could wash and weave cloth or such. He had cullud
+women there he kep' all the time to weave and spin. They kep' cloth made.</p>
+
+<p>"On Saturday nights, we jes' knocked 'round the place. Christmas?
+I don' know as I was ever home Christmas. My boss kep' me hired out. The
+slaves never had no Christmas presents I know of. And big dinners, I never
+was at nary one. They didn' give us nothin, I tell you, but a grubbin' hoe
+and axe and the whip. They had co'n shuckin's in them days and co'n shellin's,
+too. We would shuck so many days and so many days to shell it up.</p>
+
+<p>"We would shoot marbles when we was little. It was all the game the
+niggers ever knowed, was shootin' marbles.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"After work at nights there wasn't much settin' 'round; you'd
+fall into bed and go to sleep. On Saturday night they didn' git together,
+they would jes' sing at their own houses. Oh, yes'm, I 'member 'em singin'
+'Run, nigger, run,' but it's too far back for me to 'member those other
+songs. They would raise up a song when they was pickin' cotton, but I
+don' 'member much about those songs.</p>
+
+<p>"My old boss, I'm boun' to give him praise, he treated his niggers
+right. He made 'em work, though, and he whipped 'em, too. But he
+fed good, too. We had rabbits and possums once in awhile. Hardly ever
+any game, but you might git a deer sometimes.</p>
+
+<p>"Let 'em ketch you with a gun or a piece of paper with writin'
+on it and he'd whip you like everything. Some of the slaves, if they ever
+did git a piece of paper, they would keep it and learn a few words. But
+they didn' want you to know nothin', that's what, nothin' but work. You
+would think they was goin' to kill you, he would whip you so if he caught
+you with a piece of paper. You couldn' have nothin' but a pick and axe and
+grubbin' hoe.</p>
+
+<p>"We never got to play none. Our boss hired us out lots of times.
+I don' know what he got for us. We farmed, cut wood, grubbed, anything. I
+herded sheep and I picked cotton.</p>
+
+<p>"We got up early, you betcha. You would be out there by time you
+could see and you quit when it was dark. They tasked us. They would give us
+200 or 300 pounds of cotton to bring in and you would git it, and if you
+didn' git it, you better, or you would git it tomorrow, or your back would
+git it. Or you'd git it from someone else, maybe steal it from their sacks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My grandfather, he would tell us things, to keep the whip
+off our backs. He would say, 'Chillen, work, work and work hard. You
+know how you hate to be whipped, so work hard!' And of course we chillen
+tried, but of course we would git careless sometimes.</p>
+
+<p>"The master had a 'black snake'&mdash;some called it a 'bull whip,'
+and he knew how to use it. He whipped, but I don' 'member now whether
+he brought any blood on me, but he cut the blood outta the grown ones.
+He didn' tie 'em, he always had a whippin' block or log to make 'em lay
+down on. They called 500 licks a 'light breshin,' and right on your naked
+back, too. They said your clothes wouldn' grow but your hide would. From
+what I heered say, if you run away, then was when they give you a whippin,'
+prob'bly 1500 or 2000 licks. They'd shore tie you down then, 'cause you
+couldn' stan' it. Then you'd have to work on top of all that, with your
+shirt stickin' to your back.</p>
+
+<p>"The overseer woke us up. Sometimes he had a kin' of horn to
+blow, and when you heered that horn, you'd better git up. He would give
+you a good whippin' iffen he had to come and wake you up. He was the meanest
+one on the place, worse'n the boss man.</p>
+
+<p>"The boss man had a nice rock house, and the women didn' work
+at all.</p>
+
+<p>"I never did see any slaves auctioned off, but I heered of it.
+My boss he would take 'em there and sell 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"They had a church this side of New Fountain <a name='TC_16'></a><ins title="ahd">and</ins> the boss man
+'lowed us to go on Sunday. If any of the slaves did join, they didn'
+baptize them, as I know of.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"When one of the slaves would die, they would bury 'em on
+the land there. Reg'lar little cemetery there. Oh, yes, they would
+have doctors for 'em. If anybody died, they would tell some of the
+other slaves to dig the grave and take 'em out there and bury 'em. They
+jes' put 'em in a box, no preachin' or nothin.' But, of course, if it
+was Sunday the slaves would follow out there and sing. No, if they
+didn' die on Sunday, you couldn' go; you went to that field.</p>
+
+<p>"If you wanted to go to any other plantation you had to git a
+pass to go over there, and if you didn' and got caught, you got one of
+the worst whippins'. If things happened and they wanted to tell 'em on
+other plantations, they would slip out at night and tell 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"We never heered much about the fightin' or how it was goin.' When
+the war finally was over, our old boss called us all up and had us to stand
+in abreast, and he stood on the gallery and he read the verdict to 'em, and
+said, 'Now, you can jes' work on if you want to, and I'll treat you jes'
+like I always did.' I guess when he said that they knew what he meant.
+The' wasn't but one family left with 'im. They stayed about two years.
+But the rest was just like birds, they jes' flew.</p>
+
+<p>"I went with my father and he hired me out for two years, to a
+man named Riley, over on the Seco. I did most everythin', worked the field
+and was house rustler, too. But I had a good time there. After I left
+'im, I came to D'Hanis. I worked on a church house they was buildin'.
+Then I went back to my father and worked for him a long time, freightin'
+cotton to Eagle Pass. I used horses and mules and hauled cotton and flour
+and whiskey and things like that.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I met my wife down on Black Creek, and I freighted two years
+after we was married. We got married so long ago, but in them days anything
+would do. You see, these days they are so proud, but we was glad
+to have anything. I had a black suit to be married in, and a pretty long
+shirt, and I wore boots. She wore a white dress, but in them days they
+didn' have black shoes. Yes'm, they had a dance, down here on Black Creek.
+Danced half the night at her house and two men played the fiddle. Eat?
+We had everythin' to eat, a barbecued calf and a hog, too, and all kinds
+of cakes and pies. Drink? Why, the men had whiskey to drink and the
+women drank coffee. We married about 7 or 8 in the evenin' at her house.
+My wife's name was Sarah Ann Brackins.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I see a ghost? Well, over yonder on the creek was a ghost.
+It was a moonlight night and it passed right by me and it never had no
+head on it a-tall. It almost breshed me. It kep' walkin' right by side
+of me. I shore saw it and I run like a good fellow. Lots of 'em could
+see wonnurful sights then and I heered lots of noises, but that's the only
+ghost I ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I never knowed nothing 'bout charms. I've seen 'em have a
+rabbit heel or coon heel for good luck. I seen a woman one time that was
+tricked, or what I'd call poisoned. A place on her let, it was jes' the
+shape of these little old striped lizards. It was somethin' they called
+'trickin it,' and a person that knowed to trick you would put it there to
+make you suffer the balance of your days. It would go 'round your leg clear
+to the hip and be between the skin and the flesh. They called it the
+devil's work."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420118" id="n420118"></a>420118</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 208px;"><a href="images/162087v.png">
+<img src="images/162087r.png" width="208" height="300" alt="James Green" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">James Green</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>JAMES GREEN is half American
+Indian and half Negro. He was
+born a slave to John Williams,
+of Petersburg, Va., became a
+"free boy", then was kidnapped
+and sold in a Virginia slave
+market to a Texas ranchman.
+He now lives at 323 N. Olive St.,
+San Antonio, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I never knowed my age till after de war, when I's set free
+de second time, and then marster gits out a big book and it shows I's
+25 year old. It shows I's 12 when I is bought and $800 is paid for me.
+That $800 was stolen money, 'cause I was kidnapped and dis is how it
+come:</p>
+
+<p>"My mammy was owned by John Williams in Petersburg, in Virginia,
+and I come born to her on dat plantation. Den my father set 'bout to
+git me free, 'cause he a full-blooded Indian and done some big favor
+for a big man high up in de courts, and he gits me set free, and den
+Marster Williams laughs and calls me 'free boy.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then, one day along come a Friday and that a unlucky star day
+and I playin' round de house and Marster Williams come up and say, 'Delia,
+will you 'low Jim walk down de street with me?' My mammy say, 'All right,
+Jim, you be a good boy,' and dat de las' time I ever heared her speak,
+or ever see her. We walks down whar de houses grows close together and
+pretty soon comes to de slave market. I ain't seed it 'fore, but when
+Marster Williams says, 'Git up on de block,' I got a funny feelin', and
+I knows what has happened. I's sold to Marster John Pinchback and he had
+de St. Vitus dance and he likes to make he niggers suffer to make up for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
+his squirmin' and twistin' and he the bigges' debbil on earth.</p>
+
+<p>"We leaves right away for Texas and goes to marster's ranch in
+Columbus. It was owned by him and a man call Wright, and when we gits
+there I's put to work without nothin' to eat. Dat night I makes up my
+mind to run away but de nex' day dey takes me and de other niggers to look
+at de dogs and chooses me to train de dogs with. I's told I had to play
+I runnin' away and to run five mile in any way and then climb a tree. One
+of de niggers tells me kind of nice to climb as high in dat tree as I could
+if I didn't want my body tore off my legs. So I runs a good five miles
+and climbs up in de tree whar de branches is gettin' small.</p>
+
+<p>"I sits dere a long time and den sees de dogs comin'. When
+dey gits under de tree dey sees me and starts barkin'. After dat I never
+got thinkin' of runnin' away.</p>
+
+<p>"Time goes on and de war come along, but everything goes on
+like it did. Some niggers dies, but more was born, 'cause old Pinchback
+sees to dat. He breeds niggers as quick as he can, 'cause dat money for
+him. No one had no say who he have for wife. But de nigger husbands wasn't
+de only ones dat keeps up havin' chillen, 'cause de marsters and de drivers
+takes all de nigger gals dey wants. Den de chillen was brown and I seed
+one clear white one, but dey slaves jus' de same.</p>
+
+<p>"De end of dat war comes and old Pinchback says, 'You niggers
+all come to de big house in de mornin'. He tells us we is free and he opens
+his book and gives us all a name and tells us whar we comes from and how
+old we is, and says he pay us 40 cents a day to stay with him. I stays 'bout
+a year and dere's no big change. De same houses and some got whipped but
+nobody got nailed to a tree by de ears, like dey used to. Finally old Pinchback<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
+dies and when he buried de lightnin' come and split de grave and
+de coffin wide open.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, time goes on some more and den Lizzie and me, we gits
+together and we marries reg'lar with a real weddin'. We's been together
+a long time and we is happy.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'members a old song like dis:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Old marster eats beef and sucks on de bone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And give us de gristle&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To make, to make, to make, to make,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To make de nigger whistle.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Dat all de song I 'member from dose old days, 'ceptin' one
+more:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'I goes to church in early morn,<br />
+De birds just a-sittin' on de tree&mdash;<br />
+Sometimes my clothes gits very much worn&mdash;<br />
+'Cause I wears 'em out at de knee.<br />
+<br />
+"'I sings and shouts with all my might,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To drive away de cold&mdash;</span><br />
+And de bells keep ringin' in gospel light,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till de story of de Lamb am told.'"</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420064" id="n420064"></a>420064</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 207px;"><a href="images/162090v.png">
+<img src="images/162090r.png" width="207" height="300" alt="O.W. Green and Granddaughter" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">O.W. Green and Granddaughter</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>O.W. Green, son of Frank and of
+Mary Ann Marks, was born in slavery at
+Bradly Co., Arkansas, June 26, 1859.
+His owners, the Mobley family, owned
+a large plantation and two or three
+thousand slaves. Jack Mobley, Green's
+young master, was killed in the Civil
+War, and Green became one of the "orphan
+chillen." When the Ku Klux Klan became
+active, the "orphan chillen" were taken
+to Little Rock, Ark. Later on, Green
+moved to Del Rio, Texas, where he now
+lives.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was bo'ned in Arkansas. Frank Marks was my father and
+Mary Ann Marks my mother. She was bo'n on the plantation. I had
+two brothers.</p>
+
+<p>"I don' 'member de quarters, but dey mus' of had plenty,
+'cause dey was two, three thousand slaves on de plantation. All
+my kin people belonged to Massa Mobley. My grandfather was a millman
+and dey had one de bigges' grist mills in de country.</p>
+
+<p>"Our Massa was good and we had plenty for to eat. Dere was
+no jail for slaves on our place but not far from dere was a jail.</p>
+
+<p>"De Ku Klux Klan made everything pretty squally, so dey taken
+de orphan chillen to Little Rock and kep' 'em two, three years. Dere
+was lots of slaves in dat country 'round Rob Roy and Free Nigger Bend.
+Old Churchill, who used to be governor, had a plantation in dere.</p>
+
+<p>"When I was nine years ol' dey had de Bruce and Baxter revolution.
+'Twas more runnin' dan fightin'. Bruce was 'lected for governor
+but Baxter said he'd be governor if he had to run Brooks into de sea.</p>
+
+<p>"My young Massa, Jack Mobley, was killed in de war, is how I come
+to be one of de orphan chillen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"While us orphan chillen was at Little Rock dere come a
+terrible soreness of de eyes. I heard tell 'twas caused from
+de cholera. Every little child had to take turns about sittin'
+by de babies or totin' them. I was so blind, my eyes was so
+sore, I couldn't see. The doctor's wife was working with us.
+She was tryin' to figure up a cure for our sore eyes, first
+using one remedy and den another. An old herb doctor told her
+about a herb he had used on de plantations to cure de slaves'
+sore eyes. Dey boiled de herb and put hit on our eyes, on a
+white cloth. De doctor's wife had a little boy about my age.
+He would play with me, and thought I was about hit. He would
+lead me around, then he would run off and leave me and see if
+I could see. One day between 'leven and twelve o'clock&mdash;I
+never will fergit hit&mdash;he taken me down to de mess room. De
+lady was not quite ready to dress my eyes. She told me to go
+on and come back in a little while. When I got outside I tore
+dat old rag off of my eyes and throwed hit down. I told the
+little boy, 'O, I can see you!' He grabbed me by de arm and
+ran yellin' to his mammy, 'Mama, he can see! Mama, Owen can
+see!' I neva will fo'git dat word. Dey were all in so a rejoicin',
+excitable way. I was de first one had his eyes cured.
+Dey sent de lady to New York and she made plenty of money from
+her remedy.</p>
+
+<p>"Things sure was turrible durin' de war. Dey just driv
+us in front of de soldiers. Dere was lots of cholera. We was
+just bedded together lak hogs. The Ku Klux Klan come behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
+de soldiers, killin' and robbin'.</p>
+
+<p>"After two or three years in de camp with de orphans, my
+kin found me and took me home.</p>
+
+<p>"My grandfather and uncle was in de fightin'. My grandfather
+was a wagon man. De las' trip he made, he come home
+bringin' a load of dead soldiers to be buried. My grandfather
+told de people all about de war. He said hit sure was terrible.</p>
+
+<p>"When de war was over de people jus' shouted for joy. De
+men and women jus' shouted for joy. 'Twas only because of de
+prayers of de cullud people, dey was freed, and de Lawd worked
+through Lincoln.</p>
+
+<p>"My old masta was a doctor and a surgeon. He trained my
+grandmother; she worked under him thirty-seven years as a nurse.
+When old masta wanted grandmother to go on a special case he
+would whip her so she wouldn't tell none of his secrets. Grandmother
+used herbs fo' medicine&mdash;black snake root, sasparilla,
+blackberry briar roots&mdash;and nearly all de young'uns she fooled
+with she save from diarrhea.</p>
+
+<p>"My old masta was good, but when he found you shoutin'
+he burnt your hand. My grandmother said he burnt her hand several
+times. Masta wouldn't let de cullud folks have meetin', but
+dey would go out in de woods in secret to pray and preach and
+shout.</p>
+
+<p>"I jist picked up enough readin' to read my bible and
+scratch my name. I went to school one mo'ning and didn't git
+along wid de teacher so I didn't go no mo'.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'member my folks had big times come Christmas. Dey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
+never did work on Sundays, jist set around and rest. Dey never
+worked in bad weather. Dey never did go to de field till seven
+o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>"I married in 1919. I have two step-daughters and one step-son.
+My step-son lives in San Antonio. I have six step-grandchillen.
+I was a member of de Baptist church befo' you was
+bo'n, lady.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420394" id="n420394"></a>420394</div>
+
+
+<p>
+<i>Dibble, Fred</i><br />
+<i>Beaumont, Jefferson Co. Dist. #3</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ROSA GREEN, 85 years old, was born at
+Ketchi, Louisiana, but as soon as she
+was old enough became a housegirl on
+the plantation of Major "Bob" Hollingsworth
+at Mansfield, Louisiana. To the
+best of her knowledge, she was about 13
+when the "freedom papers" were read. She
+had had 13 children by her two husbands,
+both deceased, and lives with her youngest
+daughter in Beaumont. Their one-room,
+unpainted house is one of a dozen unprepossessing
+structures bordering an alleyway
+leading off Pine Street. Rosa, a spry
+little figure, crowned with short, snow-white
+pigtails extending in various directions,
+spends most of her time tending her
+small flowerbeds and vegetable garden.
+She is talkative and her memory seems quite
+active.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"When de w'ite folks read de freedom paper I was
+13 year old. I jes' lean up agin de porch, 'cause I didn' know
+den what it was all about. I war'nt bo'n in Texas, I was bo'n
+in Ketchi, but I was rais' in Manfiel'. Law, yes, I 'member de
+fight at Manfiel'. My ol' marster tuk all he niggers and lef'
+at night. Lef' us little ones; say de Yankees could git us effen
+day wan' to, 'cause we no good no way, and I wouldn' care if dey
+did git us. Dey put us in a sugar hogshead and give us a spoon to
+scrape out de sugar. 'Bout de ol' plantation, I work a little
+w'ile in de fiel'. I didn' know den like I see now. Dese chillen
+bo'n wid mo' sense now dan we was den. Dey was 'bout ten cullud
+folks on de place. My ol' marster name Bob Hollingsworth, but dey
+call 'im Major, 'cause he was a major in de war, not de las' one,
+but de one way back yonder. Ol' missus work de little ones roun'
+de house and under de house and kep' ev'yt'ing clean as yo' han'.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
+The ol' marster I thought was de meanes' man de Lawd ever made. Look
+like he cuss ev'y time he open he mouth. De neighbor w'ite folks, some
+good, some bad. My work was cleanin' up 'roun de house and nussin' de
+chillen. Only times I went to church when day tuk us long to min' de
+chillen. When de battle of Manfiel' was, we didn' git out much. When
+de Yankees was comin' to Gran' Cane, my w'ite folks dig a big pit and
+put der meat and flour and all in it and cover it over wid dirt and
+put wagon loads of pine straw over it. It was 'bout five or six mile
+to Manfield and 'bout 49 or 50 mile to Shreveport. My ol' marster tuk
+all he niggers and went off somweres, dey called it Texas, but I didn'
+know where. De ol'er ones farm. Dey rais' ev'yt'ing dey could put in
+de groun', dey did. My pa was kirrige(carriage) driver for my ol' missus.
+He was boss nigger fo' de cullud men when marster wan't right dere. My
+father jis' stay dere. See, dey free our people in July. Dat leave de
+whole crop stanin' dere in de fiel'. Dey had to stay dere and take care
+of de crop. After dat dey commence makin' contraks and bargins. I was
+22 years ol' when I marry de fus' time. Both my husban's dead. I had
+13 chillen in all.</p>
+
+<p>"De fus' time I went to church, missus tuk me and another gal
+to min' de chillen. I never heared a preacher befo'. I 'member how de
+preacher word de hymn:</p>
+
+<p>
+'Come, ye sinners, po' and needy.<br />
+Weak and wounded, sick and so'.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn' understan' it, but now when I look down on it I sees
+it now. I bleeve us been here goin' on fo' year' right yere in dis house."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420078" id="n420078"></a>420078</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 185px;"><a href="images/162096av.png">
+<img src="images/162096ar.png" width="185" height="300" alt="William Green, (Rev. Bill) (A)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">William Green, (Rev. Bill) (A)</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 190px;"><a href="images/162096bv.png">
+<img src="images/162096br.png" width="190" height="300" alt="William Green, (Rev. Bill) (A)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">William Green, (Rev. Bill) (B)</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>WILLIAM GREEN, or "Reverend
+Bill", as he is call by the
+other Negroes, was brought
+to Texas from Mississippi in
+1862. His master was Major
+John Montgomery. William is
+87 years old. He has lived
+in San Antonio, Texas, for 50
+years.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I is Reverend Bill, all right, but I is 'fraid dat compliment
+don't belong to me no more, 'cause I quit preachin' in favor
+of de young men.</p>
+
+<p>"I kin tell you my 'speriences in savin'&mdash;mis'ry dat was,
+is peace dat is. I tells you dis 'spite of bein' alone in de world
+with no chillun.</p>
+
+<p>"I is raised a slave and 'mancipated in June, but I 'members de
+old plantation whar I is born. Massa John Montgomery, he owned me,
+and he went to de war and git kilt. I knowed 'bout de war, though
+us slaves wasn't sposed to know nothin' 'bout it. I was livin' in
+Texas then, 'cause Massa John moved over here from Mis'sippi. In
+dat place niggers was allus wrong, no matter what, but it was better
+in dis place. We used to think we was lucky to git over here to Texas,
+and we used to sing a song 'bout it:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Over yonder is de wild-goose nation,<br />
+Whar old missus has sugar plantation&mdash;<br />
+Sugar grows sweet but de plantation's sour,<br />
+'cause de nigger jump and run every hour.<br />
+<br />
+"'I has you all to know, you all to know,<br />
+Dare's light on de shore,<br />
+Says little Bill to big Bill,<br />
+There's a li'l nigger to write and cipher.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what de song meant but we thought we'd git free<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
+here in Texas, and we'd git eddicated, and dat's de meanin' of de
+talk about writin' and cipherin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, when I is free I isn't free, 'cause de boss wants me
+and another boy to stay till we's 21 year old. But old Judge Longworth,
+he come down dere and dere was pretty near a fight, and he
+'splains to us we was free.</p>
+
+<p>"'bout five year after dat I takes up preachin' and I preaches
+for a long time, and I works on a farm, half and half with de owner.
+I has a good life, but now I's too old to preach.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420041" id="n420041"></a>420041</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 177px;"><a href="images/162098v.png">
+<img src="images/162098r.png" width="177" height="300" alt="Pauline Grice" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Pauline Grice</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>PAULINE GRICE, 81, was born a slave
+of John Blackshier, who owned her
+mother, about 150 slaves, 50 slave
+children, and a large plantation
+near Atlanta, Georgia. Pauline
+married Navasota Grice in 1875
+and they moved to Texas in 1917.
+Since her husband's death in 1928
+Pauline has depended on the charity
+of friends, with whom she lives at
+2504 Ross Ave., North Fort Worth,
+Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"White man, dis old cullud woman am not strong. 'Bout all my substance
+am gone now. De way you sees me layin' on dis bed am what I has
+to do mos' de time. My mem'randum not so good like 'twas.</p>
+
+<p>"De place I am borned am right near Atlanta, in Georgia, and on
+dat plantation of Massa John Blackshier. A big place, with 'bout 150
+growed slaves and 'bout 50 pickininnies. I doesn't work till near de
+surrender, 'cause I's too small. But us don't leave Massa John, us go
+right on workin' for him like 'fore.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa John am de kind massa and don't have whuppin's. He tell
+de overseer, 'If you can't make dem niggers work without de whup, den
+you not de man I wants.' Mos' de niggers 'have theyselves and when dey
+don't massa put dem in de li'l house what he call de jail, with nothin'
+to eat till deys ready to do what he say. Onct or twict he sell de
+nigger what won't do right and do de work.</p>
+
+<p>"Us have de cabin what am made from logs but us only sleeps dere.
+All us cookin' done in de big kitchen. Dere am three women what do dat,
+and give us de meals in de long shed with de long tables.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"To de bes' of dis nigger's mem'randum, de feed am good. Plenty
+of everything and corn am de mostest us have. Dere am cornbread and
+cornmeal mush and corn hominy and corn grits and parched corn for drink,
+'stead of tea <a name='TC_17'></a><ins title="of">or</ins> coffee. Us have milk and 'lasses and brown sugar, and
+some meat. Dat all raise on de place. Stuff for to eat and wear, dat
+am made by us cullud folks and dat place am what dey calls se'f-s'portin'.
+De shoemaker make all de shoes and fix de leather, too.</p>
+
+<p>"After breakfas' in de mornin' de niggers am gwine here, dere and
+everywhere, jus' like de big factory. Every one to he job, some a-whistlin',
+some a-singin'. Dey sings diff'rent songs and dis am one when deys gwine
+to work:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Old cotton, old corn, see you every morn,<br />
+Old cotton, old corn, see you since I's born.<br />
+Old cotton, old corn, hoe you till dawn,<br />
+Old cotton, old corn, what for you born?'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, suh, everybody happy on massa's place till war begin. He
+have two sons and Willie am 'bout 18 and Dave am 'bout 17. Dey jines de
+army and after 'bout a year, massa jine too, and, course, dat make de
+missy awful sad. She have to 'pend on de overseer and it warn't like massa
+keep things runnin'.</p>
+
+<p>"In de old days, if de niggers wants de party, massa am de big toad
+in de puddle. And Christmas, it am de day for de big time. A tree am fix,
+and some present for everyone. De white preacher talk 'bout Christ. Us
+have singin' and 'joyment all day. Den at night, de big fire builded and
+all us sot 'round it. Dere am 'bout hundred hawg bladders save from hawg
+killin'. So, on Christmas night, de chillen takes dem and puts dem on de
+stick. Fust dey is all blowed full of air and tied tight and dry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
+Den de chillen holds de bladder in de fire and purty soon, '<span class="spaced">BANG</span>,' dey
+goes. Dat am de fireworks.</p>
+
+<p>"Dat all changed after massa go to war. Fust de 'federate sojers come
+and takes some mules and hosses, den some more come for de corn. After
+while, de Yankee sojers comes and takes some more. When dey gits through,
+dey ain't much more tookin' to be done. De year 'fore surrender, us am short
+of rations and sometime us hongry. Us sees no battlin' but de cannon bang all
+day. Once, dey bang two whole days 'thout hardly stoppin'. Dat am when
+missy go tech in de head, 'cause massa and de boys in dat battle. She jus'
+walk 'round de yard and twist de hands and say, 'Dey sho' git kilt. Dey sho'
+dead.' Den when extra loud noise come from de cannon, she scream. Den word
+come Willie am kilt. She gits over it, but she am de diff'rent woman. For
+her, it am trouble, trouble and more trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"She can't sell de cotton. Dey done took all de rations and us couldn't
+eat de cotton. One day she tell us, 'De war am on us. De sojers done took
+de rations. I can't sell de cotton, 'cause of de blockade.' I don't know
+what am dat blockade, but she say it. 'Now,' she say, 'All you cullud folks
+born and raise here and us allus been good to you. I can't holp it 'cause
+rations am short and I'll do all I can for you. Will yous be patient with
+me?' All us stay dere and holp missy all us could.</p>
+
+<p>"Den massa come home and say, 'Yous gwine be free. Far as I cares, you
+is free now, and can stay here and tough it through or go where you wants.
+I thanks yous for all de way yous done while I's gone, and I'll holp you
+all I can.' Us all stay and it sho' am tough times. Us have most nothin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
+to eat and den de Ku Klux come 'round dere. Massa say not mix with dat
+crowd what lose de head, jus' stay to home and work. Some dem niggers on
+other plantations ain't keep de head and dey gits whupped and some gits
+kilt, but us does what massa say and has no trouble with dem Klux.</p>
+
+<p>"It 'bout two year after freedom mammy gits marry and us goes
+and works on shares. I stays with dem till 1875 and den marries Navasota
+Robert Grice and us live by farmin' till he die, nine year since. 'Bout 20
+year since us come here from Georgia and works de truck farm. I has two
+chillen but dey dead. De way I feels now, 'twon't be long 'fore I goes, too.
+My friends is good to me and lets me stay with dem.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420107" id="n420107"></a>420107</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 219px;"><a href="images/162102v.png">
+<img src="images/162102r.png" width="219" height="300" alt="Mandy Hadnot" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Mandy Hadnot</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MANDY HADNOT, small and forlorn
+looking, as she lies in a huge,
+old-fashioned wooden bed, appears
+very black in contrast to the
+clean white sheets and a thick
+mop of snowy wool on her head.
+She does not know her age, but
+from her appearance and the details
+she remembers of her years
+as slave in the Slade home, near
+Cold Springs, Texas, she must be
+very old. She lives in Woodville,
+Texas, with her husband, Josh,
+to whom she has been married 13
+years.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I's too small to 'member my father, 'cause he die when
+I jus' a baby. Dey was my mudder and me and de ole mistus and marster
+on de plantation. It were mo' jus' a farm, but dey raise us all we
+need to eat and feed de cows and hosses.</p>
+
+<p>"De earlies' 'membrance I hab is when de ole marster drive
+into de town for supplies every two weeks. Us place was right near
+Col' Springs. He was a good man. He treat dis lil' darky jus' like
+he own chile, 'cause he never hab any chillen of his own. I know 'bout
+de time he comin' home when he go to town and I wait down by de big
+gate. Purty soon I see de big ox comin' and see de smoke from de road
+dust flyin'. Den I know he almos' home and I holler and wave my han'
+and he holler and wave he han' right back. He allus brung me somethin',
+jus' like I he own little gal. Sometime he brung me a whistle or some
+candy or doll or somethin'.</p>
+
+<p>"One Easter he brung me de purties' lil' hat I ever did see.
+My ole mistus took me to Sunday school with her and I spruce up in dat
+hat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Every Christmas 'fore ole marster die he fix me up a tree out
+de woods. Dey put popco'n on it to trim it and dey give me sometime a
+purty dress or shoes and plenty candy and maybe a big, red apple. Dey
+hab a big san' pile for me to play in, but I never play with any other
+chillen. My mammy, Emily Budle, she cook and clean up mistus log house
+cabin. After de ole marster die dey both work in de fiel' and raise
+plenty vegetables to can and eat. My task was to shell peas and watch
+and stir de big cookin' pots on de fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>"My mistus hav lots of company. When she come in and say, 'Mandy,
+shine up de knife and fork and put de polish on de pianny, I allus happy,
+'cause I lub to see folks come. Us hab chicken and all kinds of good
+things. De preacher, he was big, jolly man, he come to de house 'bout one
+Sunday in every month. Sometime dey brung lil' white chillen to dinner.
+Den us play</p>
+
+<p>
+'Rabbit, rabbit.<br />
+Jump fru' de crack.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>and</p>
+
+<p>
+'Kitty, kitty,<br />
+In de corner,<br />
+Meow, meow,<br />
+Run, kitty, run.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"De ole marster pick me out a lil', gentle hoss named Julie and
+dat was my very own hoss. It was jus' a common lil' hoss. I uster sneak
+sugar out de barrel to feed Julie. Dey had a big smokehouse on de farm
+where dey kep' all kin's of good things like sugar and sich. Dey had fruits
+of all kin's put up.</p>
+
+<p>"Every mornin' de ole mistus took out de big Bible and hab prayer
+meetin' for jus' us three. Us never learn read much, tho' she try teach me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
+some. When I's 'bout nine year ole she buy me a purty white dress and took me
+to jine de church. She was a little, white-hair' woman, what never los' her
+temper 'bout nothin'. She use' to let me bump on her pianny and didn' say
+nothin'. She couldn' play de pianny but she kinder hope maybe I could, but I
+never did learn how.</p>
+
+<p>"When freedom come my mudder and me pay no 'tention to it. Us stay
+right on de place. Purty soon my mudder die and I jus' took up her shoes.
+One day I's makin' a bonfire in de yard and ketch my dress on fire. De whol
+side of my lef' leg mos' bu'n off. Mistus was so lil' she couldn' lif' me
+but she fin'ly git me to bed. Dere I stay for long, long time, and she wait
+on me han' and feet. She make linseed poultice and kep' de bu'n grease good.
+Mos' time she leave all de wo'k stan' in de middle of de floor and read de
+Bible and pray for me to git heal up and not suffer. She cry right 'long
+with me when I cry, 'cause I hurt so.</p>
+
+<p>"When I's 16 year ole I want to hab courtin'. Mistus 'low me to
+hab de boy come right to de big house to see me. He come two mile every
+Sunday and us go to Lugene Baptist church. Den she hav nice Sunday dinner
+for both us. She let me go to ice cream supper, too. Dey didn' hab no
+freezer den, jus' a big pan in some ice. De boys and girls took tu'ns
+stirrin' de cream. It never git real ha'd but stay kinder slushy. Dey
+serve cake. Us hav pie supper, too. Whoever git de girl's pie eat it with
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"My ole mistus she pay me money right 'long after freedom but I too
+close to spen' any. Den when I 'cide to marry Bob Thomas, she he'p me fix<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
+a hope ches'. I buys goods for sheets and table kivers and one nice
+Sunday set dishes.</p>
+
+<p>"Us marry right in de parlor of de mistus house. De white man
+preacher marry us and mistus she give me 'way. Ole mistus he'p me make
+my weddin' dress outta white lawn. I hab purty long, black hair and a
+veil with a ribbon 'round de fron'. De weddin' feas' was strawberry
+ice cream and yaller cake. Ole mistus giv me my bedstead, one of her
+purtiest ones, and de set dishes and glasses us eat de weddin' dinner
+outta. My husban' gib me de trabblin' dress, but I never use dat dress
+for three weeks, though, 'cause ole mistus cry so when I hafter leave
+dat I stay for three weeks after I marry.</p>
+
+<p>"She all 'lone in de big house and I think it break her heart.
+I ain' been gone to de sawmill town very long when she sen' for me. I
+go to see her and took a peach pie, 'cause I lub her and I know dat's
+what she like better'n anything. She was sick and she say, 'Mandy, dis
+de las' time us gwineter see each other, 'cause I ain' gwineter git well.
+You be a good girl and try to git through de worl' dat way.' Den she
+make me say de Lord Prayer for her jus' like she allus make me say it for
+a night prayer when I lil' gal. I never see her no mo'.</p>
+
+<p>"Me and Bob Thomas and dis husban', Josh, what I marry thirteen
+year ago, hab 'bout 10 chillen all togedder. Us been lib here many a year.
+I don' care so much 'bout leavin' dis yearthly home, 'cause I knows I
+gwineter see de ole mistus up dere and I tell her I allus 'member what she
+tell me and try lib dat way all time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420237" id="n420237"></a>420237</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 218px;"><a href="images/162106v.png">
+<img src="images/162106r.png" width="218" height="300" alt="William Hamilton" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">William Hamilton</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>WILLIAM HAMILTON belonged to
+a slave trader, who left him
+on the Buford plantation, near
+Village Creek, Texas. The trader
+did not return, so the Buford
+family raised the child with
+their slaves. William now lives
+at 910 E. Weatherford St., Ft.
+Worth, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Who I is, how old I is and where I is born, I don't know. But
+Massa Buford told me how durin' de war a slave trader name William
+Hamilton, come to Village Creek, where Massa Buford live. Dat trader
+was on his way south with my folks and a lot of other slaves, takin'
+'em somewheres, to sell. He camped by Massa Buford's plantation and
+asks him, 'Can I leave dis li'l nigger here till I comes back?' Massa
+Buford say, 'Yes,' and de trader say he'll be back in 'bout three weeks,
+soon as he sells all the slaves. He mus' still be sellin' 'em, 'cause he
+never comes back so far and there I am and my folks am took on, and I
+is too li'l to 'member 'em, so I never knows my pappy and mammy. Massa
+Buford says de trader comes from Missouri, but if I is born dere I don't
+know.</p>
+
+<p>"De only thing I 'members 'bout all dat, am dere am lots of cryin'
+when dey tooks me 'way from my mammy. Dat something I never forgits.</p>
+
+<p>"I only 'members after de war, and most de cullud folks stays with
+Massa Buford after surrender and works de land on shares. Dey have good
+times on dat place, and don't want to leave. Day has dances and fun
+till de Ku Klux org'nizes and den it am lots of trouble. De Klux comes
+to de dance and picks out a nigger and whups him, jus' to keep de niggers
+scart, and it git so bad dey don't have no more dances or parties.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I 'members seein' Faith Baldwin and Jeb Johnson and Dan Hester
+gittin' whupped by de Klux. Dey wasn't so bad after women. It am allus
+after dark when dey comes to de house and catches de man and whups him for
+nothin'. Dey has de power, and it am done for to show dey has de power. It
+gits so bad round dere, dat de menfolks allus eats supper befo' dark and
+takes a blanket and goes to de woods for to sleep. Alex Buford don't sleep
+in de house for one whole summer.</p>
+
+<p>"No one knowed when de Klux comin'. All a-sudden up dey gallops on
+hosses, all covered with hoods, and bust right into de house. Jus' latches
+'stead of locks was used dem days. Dey comes sev'ral times to Alex' house
+but never cotches him. I'd hear dem comin' when dey hit de lane and I'd
+holler, 'De Klux am comin'.' It was my job, after dark, listenin' for dem
+Klux, den I gits under de bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why dey comes so many times round dere, am 'cause de second time
+dey comes, Jane Bensom am dere. Jane am lots of woman, wide as de door and
+tall, and weighs 'bout three hunder pounds. I calls, 'Here comes de Klux,'
+and makes for under de bed. There am embers in de fireplace and she fills
+a pail with dem and when de Klux busts in de door she lets dem have de embers
+in de face, and den out de back door she goes. Two of dem am burnt purty
+bad. De nex' night back dey comes and asks where Jane am. She 'longs to
+Massa John Ditto and am so big everybody knows her, but de niggers won't
+tell on her. She leaves de country fin'ly, but dey comes lookin' for her
+every night for two months.</p>
+
+<p>"Right over on Massa Ditto's place, am a killin' of a baby by dem
+Klux. De baby am in de mammy's arms and a bunch of Klux ridin' by takes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
+a shot at de mammy, and it hits de baby and kills it.</p>
+
+<p>"Right after de baby killin', sojers with blue coats comes dere and
+camps front of Massa Buford's place and pertects de cullud folks. I goes
+over to dey camp every day and dey gives me lots of good eats.</p>
+
+<p>"De cullud folks has lots of trouble after de war, 'cause dey am
+ir'rant niggers and gits foolishment in de head. They gits de idea de white
+folks should give dem land and mules and sich. Over in de valley, Massa Moses
+owns lots of land and fifty nigger families, and he gives each family a deed
+to 'bout fifty acres. Some dem cullud folks grandchillen still on dat land,
+too, de Parkers and Farrows and Nelsons and some others. Den all de other
+niggers thinks dey should git land, too, but dey don't, and it make dem git
+foolishment and git in trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"In 1897 I marries Effie Coleman and has no chillens, so I is alone
+in de world now. I can't do much and lives on de $10.00 de month pension.
+De white folks lets me live in dis shack for mowin' de lawn, but I worries
+'bout when I can't do no more work. It am de awful way to spend you last
+days.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420163" id="n420163"></a>420163</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>PIERCE HARPER, 86, was born on
+the Subbs plantation near Snow
+Hill, North Carolina. When eight
+years old he was sold for $1,150 <i>[Handwritten Note: '?']</i>
+to the Harper family, who lived
+in Snow Hill. After the Civil
+War, Pierce farmed a small place
+near Snow Hill and saw many raids
+of the Klu Klux Klan. He came to
+Galveston, Texas, in 1877. Pierce
+attended a Negro school after he
+was grown, learned to read and
+write, and is interested in the
+betterment of his race.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"When you ask me is I Pierce Harper, you kind of 'sprised me.
+I reckoned everybody know old Pierce Harper. Sister Johnson say to me
+outside of services last Sunday night, 'Brother Harper, you is de
+beatines' man I ever seen. You know everybody and everybody know you.'
+And I said, 'Sister Johnson, dat's 'cause I keep faith with de Lawd.
+I love de Lawd and my neighbors and de Lawd and my neighbors love me.'
+Dat's what my old mother told me 'way back in slavery, before I was
+ever sold. But here I is talking 'bout myself when you want to hear me
+talk 'bout slavery. Let's see, now.</p>
+
+<p>"I was born way back in 1851 in North Carolina, on Mr. Subbs'
+plantation, clost to Snow Hill, which was the county seat. My daddy was
+a field hand and my mother worked in the fields, too, right 'longside my
+daddy, so she could keep him lined up. The master said that Calisy, that
+my mother, was the best fieldhand he had, and Calvin, that my daddy, was
+the laziest. My mother used to say he was chilesome.</p>
+
+<p>"Then when I was eight years old they sold me. The market place
+was in Snow Hill on the public square near the jailhouse. It was jus' a
+little stand built out in the open with no top on it, that the slaves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
+stood on to get sold while the white folks auctioned 'em off. I was too
+little to get on the stand, so they had to hold me up and Mr. Harper bought
+me for $1,100. <i>[Handwritten Note: '?']</i> That was cheap for a boy.</p>
+
+<p>"He lived in a brick house in town and had two-three slaves 'sides
+me. I run errands and kept the yard clean, things a little boy could do.
+They didn't have no school for slaves and I never learned to read and write
+till after freedom. After I was sold, they let me go visit my mother once
+a year, on Sunday morning, and took me back at night.</p>
+
+<p>"The masters couldn't whip the slaves there. The law said in black
+and white no master couldn't whip no slave, no matter what he done. When a
+slave got bad they took him to the county seat and had him whipped. One
+day I seen my old daddy get whipped by the county and state 'cause he wouldn't
+work. They had a post in the public square what they tied 'em to and a
+man what worked for the county whipped 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"After he was whipped my daddy run away to the north. Daddy come
+by when I was cleanin' the yard and said, 'Pierce, go 'round side the house,
+where nobody can't see us.' I went and he told me goodbye, 'cause he was
+goin' to run away in a few days. He had to stay in the woods and travel at
+night and eat what he could find, berries and roots and things. They never
+caught him and after he crossed the Mason-Dixon line he was safe.</p>
+
+<p>"There used to be a man who raised bloodhounds to hunt slaves with.
+I seen the dogs on the trail a whole day and still not catch 'em. Sometimes
+the slave made friends with the dogs and they wouldn't let on if they found
+him. Three dogs followed one slave the whole way up north and he sold them
+up there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I heered 'em talk about some slaves what run barefooted in cold
+weather and you could trail 'em by blood in the snow and ice where they hurt
+their feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Most of the time the master gave us castor oil when we were sick.
+Some old folks went in the woods for herbs and made medicine. They made
+tea out of 'lion's tongue' for the stomach and snake root is good for pains
+in the stomach, too. Horse mint breaks the fever. They had a vermifuge
+weed.</p>
+
+<p>"I seed a lot of Southern soldiers and they'd go to the big house
+for something to eat. Late in '63 they had a fight at a place called Kingston,
+only 12 miles from our place, takin' how the jacks go. We could hear the
+guns go off when they was fightin'. The Yankees beat and settled down there
+and the cullud folks flocked down on them and when they got to the Yankee
+lines they was safe. They went in droves of 25 or 50 to the Yankees and they
+put 'em to work fightin' for freedom. They fit till the war was over and a
+lot of 'em got kilt. My mother and sister run away to the Yankees and they
+paid 'em big money to wash for 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"When peace come they read the 'mancipation law to the cullud people
+and they stayed up half the night at Mr. Harper's, singing and shouting.
+They spent that night singin' and shoutin'. They wasn't slaves no more.
+The master had to give 'em a half or third of what he made. Our master
+parceled out some land to 'em and told 'em to work it their selves and some
+done real well. They got hosses that the soldiers had turned loose to die,
+and fed them and took good care of 'em and they got good stock that way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
+Cotton was twenty and thirty cents a pound then.</p>
+
+<p>"After us cullud folks was 'sidered free and turned loose, the Klu
+Klux broke out. Some cullud people started to farmin', like I told you, and
+gathered the old stock. If they got so they made good money, and had a good
+farm, the Klu Klux would come and murder 'em. The gov'ment builded school
+houses and the Klu Klux went to work and burned 'em down. They'd go to the
+jails and take the cullud men out and knock their brains out and break their
+necks and throw 'em in the river.</p>
+
+<p>"There was a cullud man they taken, his name was Jim Freeman. They
+taken him and destroyed his stuff and him, 'cause he was making some money. Hung
+him on a tree in his front yard, right in front of his cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"There was some cullud young men went to the schools they'd opened
+by the gov'ment. Some white woman said someone had stole something of hers
+so they put them young men in jail. The Klu Klux went to the jail and took
+'em out and killed 'em. That happened the second year after the War.</p>
+
+<p>"After the Klu Kluxes got so strong the cullud men got together and
+made the complaint before the law. The Gov'nor told the law to give 'em the
+old guns in the com'sary, what the Southern soldiers had used, so they issued
+the cullud men old muskets and said protect themselves. They got together
+and organized the militia and had leaders like reg'lar soldiers. They didn't
+meet 'cept when they heered the Klu Kluxes was coming to get some cullud folks.
+Then they was ready for 'em. They'd hide in the cabins and then's when they
+found out who a lot of them Klu Kluxes was, 'cause a lot of 'em was kilt. They
+wore long sheets and covered the hosses with sheets so you couldn't rec'nize 'em.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
+Men you thought was your friend was Klu Kluxes and you'd deal with 'em in
+stores in the daytime and at night they'd come out to your house and kill
+you. I never took part in none of the fights, but I heered the others talk
+'bout them, but not where them Klu Klux could hear 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"One time they had 12 men in jail, 'cused of robbin' white folks.
+All was white in jail but one, and he was cullud. The Klu Kluxes went to
+the jailor's house and got the jail key and got them men out and carried
+'em to the River Bridge, in the middle. Then they knocked their brains out
+and threw 'em in the river.</p>
+
+<p>"We was 'fraid of them Klu Kluxes and come to town, to Snow Hill.
+We rented a little house and my mother took in washing and ironing. I went
+to school and learned to read and write, then worked on farms, and fin'ly
+went to Columbia, in South Carolina, and worked in the turpentine country.
+I stayed there a while and got married.</p>
+
+<p>"I come to Texas in 1877 and Galveston was a little pen then, a
+little mess. I worked for some white people and then went to Houston and
+it wasn't nothing but a mudhole. So I messed 'round in South Carolina again
+a while and then come back to Galveston.</p>
+
+<p>"The Lawd called me then and I answered and was
+preacher here at the Union Baptist Church, on 11th and K, 'bout 25 years.</p>
+
+<p>"I knowed Wright Cuney well and he held the biggest place a cullud
+man ever helt in Galveston. He was congressman and the white people looked
+up to him just like he was white.</p>
+
+<p>"Durin' the Spanish-American War I went to Washington, D.C., to see
+my sister and got in the soldier business. The gov'ment give me $30.00 a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
+month for drivin' a four-mule wagon for the army. I druv all through <a name='TC_18'></a><ins title="Pennslyvania">Pennsylvania</ins>
+and Virginia and South Carolina for the gov'ment. I was a&mdash;&mdash;what
+do they call a laborer in the army?</p>
+
+<p>"When war was over I come back here and now I'm too old to work
+and the state gives me a pension and me and my granddaughter live on that.
+The young folks is makin' their mark now. One thing about 'em, they get educated,
+but there's not much for them to do when they get finished with school but walk
+the streets now. I been always trying to help my people to rise 'bove their
+station and they are rising all the time, and some day they'll be free."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420298" id="n420298"></a>420298</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MOLLY HARRELL was born a
+slave on the Swanson plantation,
+near Palestine,
+Texas. She was a housegirl,
+but must have been
+too small to do much work.
+She does not know her age,
+but thinks she was about
+seven when she was freed.
+Molly lives at 3218 Ave H.,
+Galveston, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Don't you tell nobody dat I use to be a slave. I 'most forgot
+it myself till you got round me jes' den. Course, I ain't blamin' you for
+it, but what you done say 'bout all de plantations havin' schools was
+wrong, so I jes' had to tell you I been a slave myself. It jes' slip out.</p>
+
+<p>"Like I jes' say, I knows what I's talkin' 'bout, 'cause I use to be
+a slave myself and I don't know how to read and write. Dat why I say I
+can't see so good. It don't do to let folks know dey's smarter'n you,
+'cause den dey got you right where dey wants you. Now, Will, dat de man
+I's marry to, am younger'n me but he don't know it. When you git marry,
+you don't tell de man how old you is. He wouldn't have you if you did.
+'Course, Will ain't so young heself, but he's born after de war and I's
+born durin' slavery, so dat make me older.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Swanson use to own de big plantation in Palestine. Everybody
+in dat part de country knowed him. He use to live in a plain, wood house
+on de Palestine road. My mother use to cook and wait on tables. John
+was my father.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey use to have de little whip dey use on de women. Course de field
+hands got it worse, but den, dey was men. Mr. Swanson was good and he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
+mean. He was nice one day and mean as Hades de next. You never knowed what he
+gwine to do. But he never punish nobody 'cept dey done somethin'. My father
+was a field hand, and Mr. Swanson work de fire out dem. Work, work&mdash;dat all
+dey know from time dey git up in de mornin' till dey went to bed at night. But
+he wasn't hard on dem like some masters was. If dey sick, dey didn't habe to
+work and he give dem de med'cine hisself. If he cotch dem tryin' play off sick,
+den he lay into dem, or if he cotch dem loafin'. Course, I don't blame him for
+dat, 'cause dere ain't anythin' lazier dan a lazy nigger. Will am 'bout de
+laziest one in de bunch. You ain't never find a lazier nigger dan Will.</p>
+
+<p>"I was purty little den, but I done my share. I holp my mother dust
+and clean up de house and peel 'tatoes. Dere some old men dat too old to work
+so dey sot in de sun all day and holp with de light work. Dey carry grub and
+water to de field hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody run 'way all de time and hide in de woods till dere gut pinch
+dem and den dey have to come back and git somethin' to eat. Course, dey got
+beat, but dat didn't worry dem none, and it not long till dey gone 'gain.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother sold into slavery in Georgia, or round dere. <a name='TC_19'></a><ins title="Sue">She</ins> tell me
+funny things 'bout how dey use to do up dere. A old white man think so much of
+he old nigger when he die he free dat nigger in he will, and lef' him a little
+money. He open de blacksmith shop and buy some slaves. Mother allus say dose
+free niggers make de hardes' masters. One in Palestine marry a nigger slave
+and buy her from her master. Den he tell everybody he own a slave.</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody talk 'bout freedom and hope to git free 'fore dey die. I 'member
+de first time de Yankees pass by, my mother lift me up on de fence. Dey use<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
+to pass by with bags on de mules and fill dem with stuff from de houses.
+Dey go in de barn and holp deyself. Dey go in de stables and turn out de
+white folks' hosses and run off what dey don't take for deyself.</p>
+
+<p>"Den one night I 'member jes' as well, me and my mother was settin'
+in de cabin gettin' ready to go to bed, when us hear somebody call my mother.
+We listen and de overseer whisper under de door and told my mother dat she
+free but not to tell nobody. I don't know why he done it. He allus like my
+mother, so I guess he do it for her. The master reads us de paper right after
+dat and say us free.</p>
+
+<p>"Me and my mother lef' right off and go to Palestine. Most everybody
+else go with us. We all walk down de road singin' and shoutin' to beat de band.
+My father come nex' day and jine us. My sister born dere. Den us go to Houston
+and Louisiana for a spell and I hires out to cook. I works till us come to
+Galveston 'bout ten year ago.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420316" id="n420316"></a>420316</div>
+
+
+<p>
+<i>Dibble, Fred, P.W., Beehler, Rheba, P.W.,</i><br />
+<i>Beaumont, Jefferson, Dist. #3.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ANN HAWTHORNE, Beaumont, Tex., was clad in a white
+dress which was protected by a faded
+blue checked apron. On her feet she
+wore men's bedroom slippers much too
+large for her, and to prevent their
+falling off, were tied around the
+ankle by rag strings. She wore silk
+hose with the heels completely worn
+out of them. Her figure is generous
+in proportions, and her hair snow
+white, fixed in little pig tails and
+wrapped in black string. Ann related
+her story in a deep voice and a jovial
+manner. Although born and raised in
+Jasper county, she speaks boastfully
+about having been to Houston.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"If you's lookin' for Ann Hawthorne, dis is me. I
+was bo'n in slavery, and I was a right sizeable gal when
+freedom come. I was 'bout 10 or 12 year' ol' when freedom
+riz up."</p>
+
+<p>"I was bo'n up here in Jasper. Ol' marster Woodruff
+Norsworthy and Miss Ca'lina, dey was my ol' marster and
+mistus. Miss Ca'lina she name' me."</p>
+
+<p>"My pa was Len Norsworthy. My ma was name Ca'line
+after ol' mistus. Dat how come I 'member ol' mistus name
+so good. I got fo' brudders livin', but nary a sister.
+My brudders is Newton and Silas and Willie and Frank. I
+say dey's livin'. I mean dat de las' time I heard of 'em
+dey was livin'."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yas, I 'member de house I was raise in. It was
+jis' a one-room log house. Dey was a ol' Geo'gia hoss
+bed in it. It was up pretty high and us chillun had to
+git on a box to git in dat bed. De mattress was mek outer
+straw. Sometime dey mek 'em in co'n sacks and sometime
+dey put 'em in a tick what dey weave on de loom. I had a
+aunt what was de weaver. She weave all de time for ol'
+marster. She uster weave all us clo's."</p>
+
+<p>"My ma she was jis' a fiel' han' but my gramma and
+my aunt dey hab dem for wuk 'roun' de house. I didn' do
+nuthin' but chu'n (churn) and clean de yard, and sweep
+'roun' and go to de spring and tote de water. I l'arn
+how to hoe, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Dat was a big plantation. Fur as I kin 'member I
+t'ink dey was 'bout 25 or 30 slaves on de place. You see
+I done git ol' and childish and I can't 'member like what
+I uster could. I 'member though, dat my pa uster drive a
+team for ol' marster. Sometime he fiel' han' on de plantation,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>"Ol' marster he was good to his slaves. I heerd of
+slaves bein' whip' but I ain't never see any git whip. Dey
+was a overseer on de place and iffen dey was any whippin'
+to be did, he done it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Me? I never did git no lickin's when I was a li'l
+slave. No mam. I allus did obey jis' like I was teached
+to do and dey didn' hafter whip me. I 'members dat."</p>
+
+<p>"We done our playin' 'roun' dat big house, but dat
+front gate, we dassen' go outside dat. We uster jump de
+rope and play ring plays and sich. You know how dey yoke
+dey han's togedder? Dat de way us uster do and go 'roun'
+and 'roun' singin' our li'l jumped up songs. Den us jis'
+play 'roun' lots of times anyt'ing what happen to come up
+in our min's."</p>
+
+<p>"Dey feed us good back in slavery. Give us plenty of
+meat and bread and greens and t'ings. Ye, dey feed us
+good and us had plenty. Dey give us plenty of co'nbread.
+Dat's de reason I's a co'nbread eater now. I ain't no
+flour-bread eater. I lubs my co'nbread. Us all eat outer
+one big pan. Dey give each li'l nigger a big iron spoon
+and us sho' go to it. Dey give us milk in a sep'rate vessel,
+and dey give eb'ryone a slice of meat in our greens.
+And dey never dassent tek de other feller's piece of meat.
+Eb'ryt'ing better go 'long smoove wid us chillun. We better
+eat and shut our mouf. We dassent raise no squall."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell dese chillun here dey ain't know nuffin'. Dey
+got dey glass. We had our li'l go'ds (gourds) pretty and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
+clean and white. I wish I had one of dem ol' time go'ds
+now to drink my milk outer."</p>
+
+<p>"In good wedder dey feed us under a big tree out in
+de yard. And us better leave eb'ryt'ing clean and no litter
+'roun'. In de winter time dey fed us in de kitchen."</p>
+
+<p>"Us gals wo' plain, long waisted dress. Dey was cut
+straight and wid long waist and dey button down de back."</p>
+
+<p>"Dey was a cullud man what mek shoes for de slaves
+to wear in de winter time. He mek 'em outer rough red russet
+ledder. Dat ledder was hard and lots of times it mek
+blister on us feet. I uster be glad when summer time come
+so's I could go barefoot."</p>
+
+<p>"Dey had cabins for de slaves to live in. Dere was
+jis' one room and one family to de cabin. Some of 'em was
+bigger dan others and dey put a big family in a big cabin
+and a li'l family in a li'l cabin."</p>
+
+<p>"I never see no slaves bought and sol'. I heerd my
+gramma and ma say dey ol' marster wouldn' sell none of his
+slaves."</p>
+
+<p>"I heerd 'bout dem broom-stick marriages, but I ain't
+never seed none. Dat was dey law in dem days."</p>
+
+<p>"Dey didn' know nuffin' 'bout preachin' and Sunday
+School in dem times. De fus' preachin' I heerd was atter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>
+dat. I hear a white preacher preach. He uster preach
+to de white folks in de mornin' and de cullud folks in
+de afternoons. But de slaves some of 'em uster had family
+prayer meetings to deyselfs."</p>
+
+<p>"De ol' marster he didn' work he han's on Sunday and
+he give 'em half de day off on Sadday, too. But he never
+give 'em a patch to work for deyself. Dat half a day off
+on Sadday was for de slaves to wash and clean up deyselfs."</p>
+
+<p>"I never git marry 'till way atter freedom come. Dat
+was up in Jasper county where I's bred and bo'n. I marry
+Hyman Hawthorne. Near as you kin guess, dat was 'bout 50
+year' ago. Den he die and lef' me wid eight chillun. My
+baby gal she ain't never see no daddy."</p>
+
+<p>"Atter he dead I wash and iron and cook out and raise
+my chillun. I was raise up in de fiel' all my life. When
+I git disable' to wuk in de time of de 'pressure (depression)
+I git on my walkin' stick. I wag up town and I didn'
+fail to ax de white folks 'cause I wo' myself out wukkin'
+for 'em. Dey load up my sack and sometime dey bring me
+stuff in a car right dere to dat gate. But I's had two
+strokes and I ain't able to go to town no mo'."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you I never hear nuthin' 'bout chu'ch 'till
+way atter freedom. Sometime den us go to chu'ch. Dey was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
+one Mef'dis' Chu'ch and one Baptis' Chu'ch in Jasper. Dere
+moughta been a Cabilic (Catholic) Chu'ch dere too, but I
+dunno 'bout dat."</p>
+
+<p>"I don' 'member seein' no sojers. I t'ink some of
+ol' marster's boys went to de war but de ol' man didn' go.
+I dunno 'bout wedder dey come back or not 'cep'n' I 'member
+dat Crab Norsworthy he come back."</p>
+
+<p>"When any of de slaves git sick ol' mistus and my
+gramma dey doctor 'em. De ol' mistus she a pretty good
+doctor. When us chillun git sick dey git yarbs or dey
+give us castor oil and <a name='TC_20'></a><ins title="turpentime">turpentine</ins>. Iffen it git to be a
+ser'ous ailment dey sen' for de reg'lar doctor. Dey uster
+hang asafoetida 'roun' us neck in a li'l bag to keep us
+from ketch' de whoopin' cough and de measles."</p>
+
+<p>"Dey was a gin and cotton press on de place. Ol' marster
+gin' and bale' he own cotton. Dat ol' press had dem
+long arms a-stickin' down what dey hitch hosses to and mek
+'em go 'roun' and 'roun' and press de bale."</p>
+
+<p>"Dey raise dey own t'bacco on de place. I didn' use
+snuff nor chew 'till after I growed up and marry. Back
+in slavery you couldn' let 'em ketch you wid a chew of
+t'bacco or snuff in your mouf. Iffen you did dey wouldn'
+let you forgit it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I uster like to go and play 'roun' de calfs, jis'
+go up and pet 'em and rub 'em. But we dassent git on
+'em to ride 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Marster uster sit 'roun' and watch us chillun play.
+He enjoy dat. He call me his Annie 'cause I name' after
+my mistus. Sometime he hab a wagon load of watermilion
+haul' up from de fiel' and cut 'em. Eb'ry chile hab a
+side of watermilion. And us hab all de sugar cane and
+sweet 'taters us want."</p>
+
+<p>"Dey had a big smokehouse. Dey hab big hog killin'
+time, and dey dry and salt de meat in a big long trough.
+Dey git oak and ash and hick'ry wood and mek a fire under
+it and smoke it. My gramma toted de key to dat smokehouse
+and ol' mistus she'd tell her what to go and git for de
+white folks and de cullud folks."</p>
+
+<p>"When Crismus come 'roun' dey give us big eatin'. Us
+hab chicken and turkey and cake. I don' 'member dat dey
+give us no presents."</p>
+
+<p>"My gramma and my ma and ol' man Norsworthy dey come
+from Alabama. I never hear of him breakin' up a family.
+But when dey was livin' in Geo'gy, my ma marry a man name'
+Hawthorne in Geo'gy. He wouldn' sell him to Marse Norsworthy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
+when he come to Texas. Atter freedom marster go
+to Geo'gy to git him and bring him to Texas, but he done
+raisin' up anudder family dere and won't come. Li'l befo'
+she die her husban' come. When he 'bout wo' out and
+ready to die, den he come. Some of de ol'es' chillun
+'member dey daddy and dey crazy for him to come and dey
+mek up de money for him. When he git here dey tek care
+of him 'till he die right dere at Olive. Ma tell 'em to
+write him he neenter (need not) come. She say he ain't
+no service to her. But he come and de daughter tek care
+of her ma and pa bofe."</p>
+
+<p>"I's got 8 gran'chillun and 5 great-gran'chillun. I
+'vides (divide) my time 'tween my daughter here and de
+one in Houston."</p>
+
+<p>"You wants to tek my picture? Daughter, I don' want
+dat hat you got dere. Dat one of de chillun' hats. Git
+dat li'l bonnet. Dat becomes me better. I can't stan'
+much sun. Dey say I's got high blood pressue."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420186" id="n420186"></a>420186</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>JAMES HAYES, 101, was born
+a slave to a plantation owner
+whose name he does not now recall,
+in Shelby Co., two miles
+from Marshall, Texas. Mr. John
+Henderson bought the place, six
+slaves and James and his mother.
+James, known as Uncle Jim, seems
+happy, still stands erect, and
+is very active for his age. He
+lives on a green slope overlooking
+the Trinity river, in Moser Valley,
+a Negro settlement ten miles northeast
+of Fort Worth.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Dis nigger have lived a long time, yas, suh! I's 101
+years ole, 'cause I's bo'n Dec. 28, 1835. Dat makes me 102 come
+nex' December. I can' 'member my fust marster's name, 'cause when
+I's 'bout two years ole, me and my sis, 'bout five, and our mammy
+was sol' to Marster John Henderson. I don' 'member anything 'bout
+my pappy, but I 'member Marster Henderson jus' like 'twas las' week.
+I's settin' hear a thinkin' of dem ole days when I's a li'l nigger
+a cuttin' up on ole marster's plantation. How I did play roun' with
+de chilluns till I's big enough for to wo'k. After I's 'bout 13, I
+jus' peddles roun' de house for 'bout a year, den 'twarn't long till
+I hoes co'n and potatoes. Dere's six slaves on dat place and I coul'
+beat dem all a-hoein'.</p>
+
+<p>"De marster takes good care of us and sometimes give us money,
+'bout 25&cent;, and lets us go to town. Dat's when we was happy and celebrates.
+We'uns spent all de money on candy and sweet drinks. Marster
+never crowded us 'bout de wo'k, and never give any of us whuppin's. I's
+sev'ral times needed a whuppin', but de marster never gives dis nigger
+more'n a good scoldin'. De nearest I comes to gittin whupped, 'twas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
+once when I stole a plate of biscuits offen de table. I warn't in need
+of 'em, but de devil in me caused me to do it. Marster and all de folks
+comes in and sets down, and he asks for de biscuits, and I's under de
+house and could hear 'em talk. De cook says, 'I's put de biscuits on de
+table.' Marster says, 'If you did, de houn' got 'em.' Cook says, 'If
+a houn' got 'em, 'twas a two-legged one, 'cause de plate am gone, too.'
+I's made de mistake of takin' de plate. Marster give me de wors' scoldin'
+I ever has and dat larned me a lesson.</p>
+
+<p>"Not long after dat, Marster sol' my mammy to his brudder who
+lived in Fort Worth. When dey took her away, I's powerful grieved. 'Bout
+dat time de War started. De marster and his boy, Marster Ben, jined de
+army. De marster was a sergeant. De women folks was proud of dere men
+folks, but dey was powerful grieved. All de time de men's away, I could tell
+Missy Elline and her mamma was worried. Dey allus sen's me for de mail,
+and when I fotches it, dey run to meet me, anxious like, to open de letter,
+and was skeert to do it. One day I fotches a letter and I could feel it in
+my bones, dere was trouble in dat letter. Sure 'nough, dere was trouble,
+heaps of it. It tells dat Marster Ben am kilt and dat dey was a shippin'
+him home. All de ole folks, cullud and white, was cryin'. Missy Elline,
+she fainted. When de body comes home, dere's a powerful big funeral and
+after dat, dere's powerful weepin's and sadness on dat place. De women
+folks don' talk much and no laughin' like 'fore. I 'members once de missy
+asks me to make a 'lasses cake. I says, 'I's got no 'lasses.' Missy says,
+'Don' say 'lasses, say molasses.' I says, 'Why say molasses when I's got
+no 'lasses.' Dat was de fus' time Missy laugh after de funeral.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Durin' de War, things was 'bout de same, like always, 'cept
+some vittles was scarce. But we'uns had plenty to eat and us slaves
+didn' know what de War was 'bout. I guess we was too ign'rant. De
+white folks didn' talk 'bout it 'fore us. When it's over, de Marster
+comes home and dey holds a big celebration. I's workin' in de kitchen and
+dey tol' me to cook heaps of ham, chicken, pies, cakes, sweet 'taters
+and lots of vegetables. Lots of white folks comes and dey eats and
+drinks wine, dey sings and dances. We'uns cullud folks jined in and
+was singin' out in de back, 'Massa's in de Col', Har' Groun'. Marster
+asks us to come in and sing dat for de white folks, so we'uns goes in
+de house and sings dat for de white folks and dey jines in de chorus.</p>
+
+<p>"Three days after de celebration, de marster calls all de slaves
+in de house and says, 'Yous is all free, free as I am.' He tol' us we'uns
+could go if we'uns wanted to. None of us knows what to do, dere
+warn't no place to go and why would we'uns wan' to go and leave good
+folks like de marster? His place was our home. So we'uns asked him if
+we could stay and he says, 'Yous kin stay as long as yous want to and
+I can keep yous.' We'uns all stayed till he died, 'bout a year after
+dat.</p>
+
+<p>"When he was a-dyin', marster calls me to his bed and says, 'My
+dyin' reques' is dat yous be taken to your mama.' He calls his son,
+Zeke, in and tells him dat I should be fotched to my mamma. And 'bout
+in a year, Marster Zeke fotches me to my mamma, in Johnson Station,
+south of Arlington. She's wo'kin' for Jack Ditto and I's pleased to
+see her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I's pleased to see my mammy, but after a few days I wants to go back to
+Marshall with Marster Zeke. Dat was my home, so I kep' pesterin' marster
+to fetch me back, but he slips off and leaves me. I has to stay and I's
+been here ever since.</p>
+
+<p>"I gits my fust job with Carter Cannon, on a farm, and stays seven
+years. Den I goes to Fort Worth and takes a job cookin' in de Gran' Hotel
+for three years. Den I goes to Dallas and cooks for private families, and
+wo'ks for Marster James Ellison for 30 years. I stops four years ago and
+comes out here to wait till de good Lawd calls me home.</p>
+
+<p>"Bout gittin' married, after I quits de Gran' Hotel I marries and
+we'uns has two chillen. My wife died three years later.</p>
+
+<p>"You knows, I believes I's mo' contented as a slave. I's treated
+kind all de time and had no frettin' 'bout how I gwine git on. Since I's
+been free, I sometimes have heaps of frettin'. Course, I don' want to go
+back into slavery, but I's paid for my freedom.</p>
+
+<p>"I's never been sick abed, but I's had mo' misery dis las' year dan
+all my life. It's my heart. If I live till December, I'll be 102 years old,
+and dis ole heart have been pumpin' and pumpin' all dem years and have missed
+nary a beat till dis las' year. I knows 'twon't be long till de good Lawd
+calls dis ole nigger to cross de Ribber Jordan and I's ready for de Lawd when
+he calls.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420082" id="n420082"></a>420082</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 188px;"><a href="images/162130av.png">
+<img src="images/162130ar.png" width="188" height="300" alt="Felix Haywood (A)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Felix Haywood (A)</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 220px;"><a href="images/162130bv.png">
+<img src="images/162130br.png" width="220" height="300" alt="Felix Haywood (B)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Felix Haywood (B)</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>FELIX HAYWOOD is a temperamental
+and whimsical old Negro of San
+Antonio, Texas, who still sees the
+sunny side of his 92 years, in
+spite of his total blindness. He
+was born and bred a slave in St.
+Hedwig, Bexar Co., Texas, the son
+of slave parents bought in <a name='TC_21'></a><ins title="Missisippi">Mississippi</ins>
+by his master, William Gudlow.
+Before and during the Civil War
+he was a sheep herder and cowpuncher.
+His autobiography is a colorful contribution,
+showing the philosophical
+attitude of the slaves, as well as
+shedding some light upon the lives
+of slave owners whose support of
+the Confederacy was not accompanied
+by violent hatred of the Union.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I'm Felix Haywood, and I can answer all those
+things that you want to know. But, first, let me ask you this: Is
+you all a white man, or is you a black man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm black, blacker than you are," said the caller.</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the old blind Negro,&mdash;eyes like two murkey brown
+marbles&mdash;actually twinkled. Then he laughed:</p>
+
+<p>"No, you ain't. I knowed you was white man when you comes up
+the path and speaks. I jus' always asks that question for fun. It
+makes white men a little insulted when you dont know they is white, and
+it makes niggers all conceited up when you think maybe they is white."</p>
+
+<p>And there was the key note to the old Negro's character and
+temperament. He was making a sort of privileged game with a sportive
+twist out of his handicap of blindness.</p>
+
+<p>As the interviewer scribbled down a note, the door to the little
+shanty on Arabella Alley opened and a backless chair was carried out on
+the porch by a vigorous old colored woman. She was Mrs. Ella Thompson,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
+Felix' youngest sister, who had known only seven years of slavery. After
+a timid "How-do-you-do," and a comment on the great heat of the June day,
+she went back in the house. Then the old Negro began searching his 92
+years of reminiscences, intermixing his findings with philosophy, poetry
+and prognostications.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a funny thing how folks always want to know about the War.
+The war weren't so great as folks suppose. Sometimes you didn't knowed
+it was goin' on. It was the endin' of it that made the difference. That's
+when we all wakes up that somethin' had happened. Oh, we knowed what was
+goin' on in it all the time, 'cause old man Gudlow went to the post office
+every day and we knowed. We had papers in them days jus' like now.</p>
+
+<p>"But the War didn't change nothin'. We saw guns and we saw soldiers,
+and one member of master's family, Colmin Gudlow, was gone fightin'&mdash;somewhere.
+But he didn't get shot no place but one&mdash;that was in the big toe.
+Then there was neighbors went off to fight. Some of 'em didn't want to go.
+They was took away (conscription). I'm thinkin' lots of 'em pretended to
+want to go as soon as they had to go.</p>
+
+<p>"The ranch went on jus' like it always had before the war. Church
+went on. Old Mew Johnson, the preacher, seen to it church went on. The
+kids didn't know War was happenin'. They played marbles, see-saw and rode.
+I had old Buster, a ox, and he took me about plenty good as a horse. Nothin'
+was different. We got layed-onto(whipped) time on time, but gen'rally life
+was good&mdash;just as good as a sweet potato. The only misery I had was when
+a black spider bit me on the ear. It swelled up my head and stuff came out.
+I was plenty sick and Dr. Brennen, he took good care of me. The whites
+always took good care of people when they was sick. Hospitals couldn't do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+no better for you today.... Yes, maybe it was a black widow spider, but we
+called it the 'devil biter'.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes someone would come 'long and try to get us to run up North
+and be free. We used to laugh at that. There wasn't no reason to <span class="u">run</span> up
+North. All we had to do was to <span class="u">walk</span>, but walk <span class="u">South</span>, and we'd be free as
+soon as we crossed the Rio Grande. In Mexico you could be free. They didn't
+care what color you was, black, white, yellow or blue. Hundreds of slaves
+did go to Mexico and got on all right. We would hear about 'em and how they
+was goin' to be Mexicans. They brought up their children to speak only Mexican.</p>
+
+<p>"Me and my father and five brothers and sisters weren't goin' to Mexico.
+I went there after the war for a while and then I looked 'round and decided
+to get back. So I come back to San Antonio and I got a job through Colonel
+Breckenridge with the waterworks. I was handling pipes. My foreman was Tom
+Flanigan&mdash;he must have been a full-blooded Frenchman!</p>
+
+<p>"But what I want to say is, we didn't have no idea of runnin' and
+escapin'. We was happy. We got our lickings, but just the same we got our
+fill of biscuits every time the white folks had 'em. Nobody knew how it was
+to lack food. I tell my chillen we didn't know no more about pants than a
+hawg knows about heaven; but I tells 'em that to make 'em laugh. We had
+all the clothes we wanted and if you wanted shoes bad enough you got 'em&mdash;shoes
+with a brass square toe. And shirts! Mister, them was shirts that
+was shirts! If someone gets caught by his shirt on a limb of a tree, he
+had to die there if he weren't cut down. Them shirts wouldn't rip no more'n
+buckskin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The end of the war, it come jus' like that&mdash;like you snap your
+fingers."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know the end of the war had come?" asked the interviewer.</p>
+
+<p>"How did we know it! Hallelujah broke out&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'Abe Lincoln freed the nigger</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the gun and the trigger;</span><br />
+And I ain't goin' to get whipped any more.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I got my ticket,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leavin' the thicket,</span><br />
+And I'm a-headin' for the Golden Shore!'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Soldiers, all of a sudden, was everywhere&mdash;comin' in bunches,
+crossin' and walkin' and ridin'. Everyone was a-singin'. We was all
+walkin' on golden clouds. <a name='TC_22'></a><ins title="Hallejujah!">Hallelujah!</ins></p>
+
+<p>
+"'Union forever,<br />
+Hurrah, boys, hurrah!<br />
+Although I may be poor,<br />
+I'll never be a slave&mdash;<br />
+Shoutin' the battle cry of freedom.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody went wild. We all felt like heroes and nobody had made
+us that way but ourselves. We was free. Just like that, we was free. It
+didn't seem to make the whites mad, either. They went right on giving us
+food just the same. Nobody took our homes away, but right off colored folks
+started on the move. They seemed to want to get closer to freedom, so they'd
+know what it was&mdash;like it was a place or a city. Me and my father stuck,
+stuck close as a lean tick to a sick kitten. The Gudlows started us out on
+a ranch. My father, he'd round up cattle, unbranded cattle, for the whites.
+They was cattle that they belonged to, all right; they had gone to find
+water 'long the San Antonio River and the Guadalupe. Then the whites gave
+me and my father some cattle for our own. My father had his own brand,
+7 B ), and we had a herd to start out with of seventy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We knowed freedom was on us, but we didn't know what was to
+come with it. We thought we was goin' to get rich like the white folks.
+We thought we was goin' to be richer than the white folks, 'cause we was
+stronger and knowed how to work, and the whites didn't and they didn't
+have us to work for them anymore. But it didn't turn out that way. We
+soon found out that freedom could make folks proud but it didn't make 'em
+rich.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever stop to think that thinking don't do any good when
+you do it too late? Well, that's how it was with us. If every mother's
+son of a black had thrown 'way his hoe and took up a gun to fight for his
+own freedom along with the Yankees, the war'd been over before it began.
+But we didn't do it. We couldn't help stick to our masters. We couldn't
+no more shoot 'em than we could fly. My father and me used to talk 'bout
+it. We decided we was too soft and freedom wasn't goin' to be much to our
+good even if we had a education."</p>
+
+<p>The old Negro was growing very tired, but, at a request, he instantly
+got up and tapped his way out into the scorching sunshine to have
+his photograph taken. Even as he did so, he seemed to smile with those
+blurred, dead eyes of his. Then he chuckled to himself and said:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Warmth of the wind<br />
+And heat of the South,<br />
+And ripe red cherries<br />
+For a ripe, red mouth.'"<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Land sakes, Felix!" came through the window from sister Ella.
+"How you carries on! Don't you be a-mindin' him, mister."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420096" id="n420096"></a>420096</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 236px;"><a href="images/162135v.png">
+<img src="images/162135r.png" width="236" height="300" alt="Phoebe Henderson" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Phoebe Henderson</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>PHOEBE HENDERSON, a 105 year old Negro
+of Harrison Co., was born a slave of
+the Bradley family at Macon, Georgia.
+After the death of her mistress, Phoebe
+belonged to one of the daughters, Mrs.
+Wiley Hill, who moved to Panola County,
+Texas in 1859, where Phoebe lived until
+after the Civil War. For the past 22
+years she has lived with Mary Ann Butler,
+a daughter, about five miles east of
+Marshall, in Enterprise Friendship Community.
+She draws a pension of $16.00
+a month.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was bo'n a slave of the Bradley family in Macon, Georgia.
+My father's name was Anthony Hubbard and he belonged to the Hubbard's
+in Georgia. He was a young man when I lef' Georgia and I never heard
+from him since. I 'member my mother; she had a gang of boys. Marster
+Hill brought her to Texas with us.</p>
+
+<p>"My ole missus name was Bradley and she died in Tennessee. My
+lil' missus was her daughter. After dey brought us to Texas in 1859
+I worked in the field many a day, plowin' and hoein', but the children
+didn't do much work 'cept carry water. When dey git tired, dey'd say
+dey was sick and the overseer let 'em lie down in de shade. He was a
+good and kindly man and when we do wrong and go tell him he forgave us
+and he didn't whip the boys 'cause he was afraid they'd run away.</p>
+
+<p>"I worked in de house, too. I spinned seven curts a day and
+every night we run two looms, makin' large curts for plow lines. We
+made all our clothes. We didn't wear shoes in Georgia but in this
+place the land was rough and strong, so we couldn't go barefooted.
+A black man that worked in the shop measured our feet and made us two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
+pairs a year. We had good houses and dey was purty good to us. Sometimes
+missus give us money and each family had their garden and some
+chickens. When a couple marry, the master give them a house and we
+had a good time and plenty to wear and to eat. They cared for us when
+we was sick.</p>
+
+<p>"Master Wiley Hill had a big plantation and plenty of stock and
+hawgs, and a big turnip patch. He had yellow and red oxen. We never
+went to school any, except Sunday school. We'd go fishin' often down on
+the creek and on Saturday night we'd have parties in the woods and play
+ring plays and dance.</p>
+
+<p>"My husband's name was David Henderson and we lived on the same
+place and belonged to the same man. No, suh, Master Hill didn't have nothin'
+to do with bringin' us together. I guess God done it. We fell in love,
+and David asked Master Hill for me. We had a weddin' in the house and was
+married by a colored Baptist preacher. I wore a white cotton dress and
+Missus Hill give me a pan of flour for a weddin' present. He give us a
+house of our own. My husband was good to me. He was a careful man and
+not rowdy. When we'd go anywhere we'd ride horseback and I'd ride behin'
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"I's scared to talk 'bout when I was freed. I 'member the soldiers
+and that warrin' and fightin'. Toby, one of the colored boys, joined the
+North and was a mail messenger boy and he had his horse shot out from under
+him. But I guess its a good thing we was freed, after all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420007" id="n420007"></a>420007</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 187px;"><a href="images/162137v.png">
+<img src="images/162137r.png" width="187" height="300" alt="Albert Hill" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Albert Hill</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ALBERT HILL, 81, was born a
+slave of Carter Hill, who owned
+a plantation and about 50 slaves,
+in Walton Co., Georgia. Albert
+remained on the Hill place until
+he was 21, when he went to Robinson
+Co., Texas. He now lives
+at 1305 E. 12th St., Fort Worth,
+Texas, in a well-kept five-room
+house, on a slope above the
+Trinity River.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was born on Massa Carter Hill's plantation, in Georgia,
+and my name am Albert Hill. My papa's name was Dillion, 'cause he
+taken dat name from he owner, Massa Tom Dillion. He owned de plantation
+next to Massa Hill's, and he owned my mammy and us 13 chillen.
+I don't know how old I is, but I 'members de start of de war, and
+I was a sizeable chile den.</p>
+
+<p>"De plantation wasn't so big and wasn't so small, jus' fair
+size, but it am fixed first class and everything am good. We has good
+quarters made out of logs and lots of tables and benches, what was
+made of split logs. We has de rations and massa give plenty of de
+cornmeal and beans and 'lasses and honey. Sometimes we has tea, and
+once in a while we gits coffee. And does we have de tasty and tender
+hawg meat! I'd like to see some of dat hawg meat now.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa am good but he don't 'low de parties. But we kin go to
+Massa Dillion's place next to us and dey has lots of parties and de dances.
+We dances near all night Saturday night, but we has to stay way in de back
+where de white folks can't hear us. Sometimes we has de fiddle and de
+banjo and does we cut dat chicken wing and de shuffle! We sho' does.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I druv de ox, and drivin' dat ox am agitation work in de summer
+time when it am hot, 'cause dey runs for water every time. But de worst
+trouble I ever has is with one hoss. I fotches de dinner to de workers out
+in de field and I use dat hoss, hitched to de two-wheel cart. One day him
+am halfway and dat hoss stop. He look back at me, a-rollin' de eye, and
+I knows what dat mean&mdash;'Here I stays, nigger.' But I heered to tie de rope
+on de balky hosses tail and run it 'twixt he legs and tie to de shaft. I done
+dat and puts some cuckleburrs on de rope, too. Den I tech him with de whip
+and he gives de rear back'ards. Dat he best rear. When he do dat it pull de
+rope and de rope pull de tail and de burrs gits busy. Dat hoss moves for'ard
+faster and harder den what he ever done 'fore, and he keep on gwine. You see,
+he am trying git 'way from he tail, but de tail am too fast. Course, it stay
+right behin' him. Den I's in de picklement. Dat hoss am runnin' away and I
+can't stop him. De workers lines up to stop him but de cart give de shove and
+dat pull he tail and, lawdy whoo, dat hose jump for'ard like de jackrabbit
+and go through dat line of workers. So I steers him into de fence row, and
+dere's no more runnin', but an awful mix-up with de hoss and de cart and de
+rations. Dat hoss so sceered him have de quavers. Massa say, 'What you doin'?'
+I says, 'Break de balk.' He say, 'Well, yous got everything else broke. We'll
+see 'bout de balk later.'</p>
+
+<p>Massa has de daughter, Mary, and she want to marry Bud Jackson, but
+massa am 'gainst it. Bud am gwine to de army and dat give dis boy work, 'cause
+I de messenger boy for him and Missy Mary. Dey keeps company unbeknownst and
+I carry de notes. I puts de paper in de hollow stump. Once I's sho' I's kotched.
+Dere am de massa and he say, 'Where you been, nigger?' I's sho' skeert and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
+I says, 'I's lookin' for de squirrels.' So massa goes 'way and when I tells
+you I's left, it ain't de proper word for to 'splain, 'cause I's flew from
+here.' I tells Missy Mary and she say, 'You sho' am de Lawd's chosen nigger.'</p>
+
+<p>"De 'federate soldiers comes and dey takes de rations, but de massa
+has dug de pit in de pasture and buried lots of de rations, so de soldiers
+don't find so much. De clostest battle was Atlanta, more dan 25 mile 'way.</p>
+
+<p>"When de war come over, Bud Jackson he come home. De massa welcome
+him, to de sprise of everybody, and when Bud say he want to marry Missy
+Mary, massa say, 'I guesses you has earnt her.'</p>
+
+<p>"When freedom am here, massa call all us together and tells us 'bout
+de difference 'tween freedom and hustlin' for ourselves and dependin' on
+someone else. Most of de slaves stays, and massa pays them for de work,
+and I stays till I's 21 year old, and I gits $7.00 de month and de clothes
+and de house and all I kin eat. De massa have died 'fore dat, and dere am
+powerful sorrow. Missy Mary and Massa Bud has de plantation den, and dey
+don't want me to go to Texas. But dey goes on de visit and while dey gone
+I takes de train for Robinson County, what am in Texas.</p>
+
+<p>"I works at de pavin' work and at de hostlin' work and I works on
+de hosses. Den I works for de Santa Fe railroad, handlin' freight, and I
+works till 'bout three year ago, when I gits too old for to work no more.</p>
+
+<p>"But I tells you 'bout de visit back to de old plantation. I been
+gone near 40 year and I 'cides to go back, so I reaches de house and dere
+am Missy Mary peelin' apples on de back gallery. She looks at me, and she
+say, 'I got whippin' waiting for yous, 'cause you run off without tellin' us.'
+Dere wasn't no more peelin' dat day, 'cause we sits and talks 'bout de old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
+times and de old massa. Dere sho' am de tears in dis nigger's eyes. Den
+we talks 'bout de nigger messenger I was, and we laughs a little. All day
+long we talks a little, and laughs and cries and talks. I stays 'bout
+two weeks and seed lots of de folks I knowed when I was young, de white
+folks and de niggers, too.</p>
+
+<p>"I's too old to make any more visits, but I would like to go
+back to Old Georgia once more. If Missy Mary was 'live, I'd <a name='TC_23'></a><ins title="tey">try</ins>, but she
+am dead, so I tries to wait for old Gabriel blow he horn. When he blow he
+horn, dis nigger say, 'Louder, Gabriel, louder!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420308" id="n420308"></a>420308</div>
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ROSINA HOARD does not know just
+where she was born. The first
+thing she remembers is that she
+and her parents were purchased
+by Col. Pratt Washington, who
+owned a plantation near Garfield,
+in Travis County, Texas. Rosina,
+who is a very pleasant and sincere
+person, says she has had a tough
+life since she was free. She receives
+a monthly pension of fourteen
+dollars, for which she expresses
+gratitude. Her address
+is 1301 Chestnut St., Austin, Tex.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"When I's a gal, I's Rosina Slaughter, but folks call me Zina.
+Yes, sar. It am Zina dat and Zina dis. I says I's born April 9, <a name='TC_24'></a><ins title="1959">1859</ins>, but
+I 'lieve I's older. It was somewhere in Williamson County, but I don't
+know the massa's name. My mammy was Lusanne Slaughter and she was stout
+but in her last days she got to be a li'l bit of a woman. She died only
+last spring and she was a hunerd eleven years old.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa was a Baptist preacher to de day of he death. He had asthma
+all his days. I 'member how he had de sorrel hoss and would ride off and
+preach under some arbor bush. I rid with him on he hoss.</p>
+
+<p>"First thing I 'member is us was bought by Massa Col. Pratt Washington
+from Massa Lank Miner. Massa Washington was purty good man. He
+boys, George and John Henry, was de only overseers. Dem boys treat us nice.
+Massa allus rid up on he hoss after dinner time. He hoss was a bay, call
+Sank. De fields was in de bottoms of de Colorado River. De big house was
+on de hill and us could see him comin'. He weared a tall, beaver hat allus.</p>
+
+<p>"De reason us allus watch for him am dat he boy, George, try larn
+us our A B C's in de field. De workers watch for massa and when dey seed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+him a-ridin' down de hill dey starts singin' out, 'Ole hawg 'round de bench&mdash;Ole
+hawg 'round de bench.'</p>
+
+<p>"Dat de signal and den everybody starts workin' like dey have something
+after dem. But I's too young to larn much in de field and I can't read today
+and have to make de cross when I signs for my name.</p>
+
+<p>"Each chile have he own wood tray. Dere was old Aunt Alice and she
+done all de cookin' for de chillen in de depot. Dat what dey calls de place all
+de chillen stays till dere mammies come home from de field. Aunt Alice have de
+big pot to cook in, out in de yard. Some days we had beans and some day peas.
+She put great hunks of salt bacon in de pot, and bake plenty cornbread, and
+give us plenty milk.</p>
+
+<p>"Some big chillen have to pick cotton. Old Junus was de cullud overseer
+for de chillen and he sure mean to dem. He carry a stick and use it, too.</p>
+
+<p>"One day de blue-bellies come to de fields. Dey Yankee sojers, and
+tell de slaves dey free. Some stayed and some left. Papa took us and move to
+de Craft plantation, not far 'way, and farm dere.</p>
+
+<p>"I been married three time. First to Peter Collinsworth. I quit him.
+Second to George Hoard. We stayed togedder till he die, and have five chillen.
+Den I marries he brother, Jim Hoard. I tells you de truth, Jim never did work
+much. He'd go fishin' and chop wood by de days, but not many days. He suffered
+with de piles. I done de housework and look after de chillen and den go out and
+pick two hunerd pound cotton a day. I was a cripple since one of my boys birthed.
+I git de rheumatis' and my knees hurt so much sometime I rub wed sand and mud
+on dem to ease de pain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We had a house at Barton Springs with two rooms, one log and one box.
+I never did like it up dere and I told Jim I's gwine. I did, but he come and
+got me.</p>
+
+<p>"Since freedom I's been through de toughs. I had to do de man's work,
+chop down trees and plow de fields and pick cotton. I want to tell you how glad
+I is to git my pension. It is sure nice of de folks to take care of me in my
+old age. Befo' I got de pension I had a hard time. You can sho' say I's been
+through de toughs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420286" id="n420286"></a>420286</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>TOM HOLLAND was born in Walker
+County, Texas, and thinks he is
+about 97 years old. His master,
+Frank Holland, traded Tom to William
+Green just before the Civil
+War. After Tom was freed, he
+farmed both for himself and for
+others in the vicinity of his
+old home. He now lives in Madisonville,
+Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My owner was Massa Frank Holland, and I's born on his place in Walker
+County. I had one sister named Gena and three brothers, named George and
+Will and Joe, but they's all dead now. Mammy's name was Gena and my father's
+named Abraham Holland and they's brung from North Carolina to Texas by Massa
+Holland when they's real young.</p>
+
+<p>"I chopped cotton and plowed and split rails, then was a horse rider. In
+them days I could ride the wildest horse what ever made tracks in Texas, but
+I's never valued very high 'cause I had a glass eye. I don't 'member how I
+done got it, but there it am. I'd make a dollar or fifty cents to ride wild
+horses in slavery time and massa let me keep it. I buyed tobacco and candy
+and if massa cotch me with tobacco I'd git a whippin', but I allus slipped
+and bought chewin' tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>"We allus had plenty to eat, sich as it was them days, and it was good,
+plenty wild meat and cornbread cooked in ashes. We toasted the meat on a open
+fire, and had plenty possum and rabbit and fish.</p>
+
+<p>"We wore them loyal shirts open all way down the front, but I never seed
+shoes till long time after freedom. In cold weather massa tanned lots of hides
+and we'd make warm clothes. My weddin' clothes was a white loyal shirt, never
+had no shoes, married barefooted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Massa Frank, he one real good white man. He was awful good to his Negroes.
+Missis Sally, she a plumb angel. Their three chillen stayed with me nearly all the
+time, askin' this Negro lots of questions. They didn't have so fine a house, neither,
+two rooms with a big hall through and no windows and deer skins tacked over the
+door to keep out rain and cold. It was covered with boards I helped cut after I
+got big 'nough.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Frank had cotton and corn and everything to live on, 'bout three
+hundred acres, and overseed it himself, and seven growed slaves and five little
+slaves. He allus waked us real early to be in the field when daylight come and
+worked us till slap dark, but let us have a hour and a half at noon to eat and
+rest up. Sometimes when slaves got stubborn he'd whip them and make good Negroes
+out of them, 'cause he was real good to them.</p>
+
+<p>"I seed slaves sold and auctioned off, 'cause I's put up to the highest
+bidder myself. Massa traded me to William Green jus' 'fore the war, for a hundred
+acres land at $1.00 a acre. He thought I'd never be much 'count, 'cause I had
+the glass eye, but I'm still livin' and a purty fair Negro to my age. All the
+hollerin' and bawlin' took place and when he sold me it took me most a year to git
+over it, but there I was, 'longin' to 'nother man.</p>
+
+<p>"If we went off without a pass we allus went two at a time. We slipped off
+when we got a chance to see young folks on some other place. The patterrollers
+cotched me one night and, Lawd have <a name='TC_25'></a><ins title="mercy me">mercy on me</ins>, they stretches me over a log and
+hits thirty-nine licks with a rawhide loaded with rock, and every time they hit
+me the blood and hide done fly. They drove me home to massa and told him and
+he called a old mammy to doctor my back, and I couldn't work for four days.
+That never kep' me from slippin' off 'gain, but I's more careful the next time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We'd go and fall right in at the door of the quarters at night, so massa
+and the patterrollers thinks we's real tired and let us alone and not watch us.
+That very night we'd be plannin' to slip off somewheres to see a Negro gal or
+our wife, or to have a big time, 'specially when the moon shine all night so we
+could see. It wouldn't do to have torch lights. They was 'bout all the kind
+of lights we had them days and if we made light, massa come to see what we're
+doin', and it be jus' too bad then for the stray Negro!</p>
+
+<p>"That there war brung suffrin' to lots of people and made a widow out of
+my missis. Massa William, he go and let one them Yankees git him in one of them
+battles and they never brung him home. Missis, she gits the letter from his
+captain, braggin' on his bravery, but that never helped him after he was kilt in
+the war. She gits 'nother letter that us Negroes is free and she tells us. We
+had no place to go, so we starts to cry and asks her what we gwine do. She said
+we could stay and farm with her and work her teams and use her tools and land and
+pay her half of what we made, 'sides our supplies. That's a happy bunch of Negroes
+when she told us this.</p>
+
+<p>"Late in that evenin' the Negroes in Huntsville starts hollerin' and shoutin'
+and one gal was hollerin' loud and a white man come ridin' on a hoss and leans
+over and cut that gal nearly half in two and a covered wagon come along and picks
+her up and we never heared nothin' more.</p>
+
+<p>"I married Imogene, a homely weddin' 'fore the war. We didn't have much
+to-do at our weddin'. I asks missis if I could have Imogene and she says yes and
+that's all they was to our weddin'. We had three boys and three gals, and Imogene
+died 'bout twenty years ago and I been livin' with one child and 'nother. I gits<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
+a little pension from the gov'ment and does small jobs round for the white
+people.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'lieve they ought to have gived us somethin' when we was freed,
+but they turned us out to graze or starve. Most of the white people turned the
+Negroes slam loose. We stayed a year with missis and then she married and her
+husband had his own workers and told us to git out. We worked for twenty and
+thirty cents a day then, and I fin'ly got a place with Dr. L.J. Conroe. But
+after the war the Negro had a hard struggle, 'cause he was turned loose jus' like
+he came into the world and no education or 'sperience.</p>
+
+<p>"If the Negro wanted to vote the Klu Kluxes was right there to keep
+him from votin'. Negroes was 'fraid to git out and try to 'xert they freedom.
+They'd ride up by a Negro and shoot him jus' like a wild hawg and never a word
+said or done 'bout it.</p>
+
+<p>"I's farmed and makin' a livin' is 'bout all. I come over here in
+Madison County and rents from B.F. Young, clost <a name='TC_26'></a><ins title="ot">to</ins> Midway and gits me a few
+cows. I been right round here ever since. I lives round with my chillen now,
+'cause I's gittin' too old to work.</p>
+
+<p>"This young bunch of Negroes is all right some ways, but they won't
+tell the truth. They isn't raised like the white folks raised us. If we didn't
+tell the truth our massa'd tear us all to pieces. Of course, they is educated
+now and can get 'most any kind of work, some of them, what we couldn't.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420052" id="n420052"></a>420052</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/162285v.png">
+<img src="images/162285r.png" width="200" height="300" alt="Eliza Holman" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Eliza Holman</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ELIZA HOLMAN, 82, was born a slave
+of the Rev. John Applewhite, near
+Clinton, Mississippi. In 1861 they
+came to Texas, settling near Decatur.
+Eliza now lives at 2507 Clinton Ave.,
+Fort Worth, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Talk 'bout de past from de time I 'members till now, slave days
+and all? Dat not so hard. I knows what de past am, but what to come, dat
+am different. Dey says, 'Let de past be de guide for de future,' but if
+you don't know de future road, hows you gwine guide? I's sho' glad to tell
+you all I 'members, but dat am a long 'memberance.</p>
+
+<p>"I know I's past 80, for sho', and maybe more, 'cause I's old 'nough
+to 'member befo' de war starts. I 'members when de massa move to Texas by
+de ox team and dat am some trip! Dey loads de wagon till dere ain't no more
+room and den sticks we'uns in, and we walks some of de time, too.</p>
+
+<p>"My massa am a preacherman and have jus' three slaves, me and pappy
+and mammy. She am cook and housekeeper and I helps her. Pappy am de field
+hand and de coachman and everything else what am needed. We have a nice, two-room
+log house to live in and it am better den what mos' slaves have, with
+de wood floor and real windows with glass in dem.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa am good but he am strict. He don't have to say much when he
+wants you to do somethin'. Dere am no honey words round de house from him,
+but when him am preachin' in de church, him am different. He am honey man
+den. Massa could tell de right way in de church but it am hard for him to
+act it at home. He makes us go to church every Sunday.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But I's tellin' you how we'uns come to Texas. De meals am
+cook by de campfire and after breakfast we starts and it am bump, bump,
+bump all day long. It am rocks and holes and mudholes, and it am streams
+and rivers to cross. We'uns cross one river, musta been de Mississippi,
+and drives on a big bridge and dey floats dat bridge right 'cross dat river.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa and missus argues all de way to Texas. She am
+skeert mos' de time and he allus say de Lawd take care of us. He say, 'De
+Lawd am a-guidin' us.' She say, 'It am fools guidin' and a fool move for
+to start.' Dat de way dey talks all de way. And when we gits in de mudhole
+'twas a argument 'gain. She say, 'Dis am some more of your Lawd's calls.'
+He say, 'Hush, hush, woman. Yous gittin' sac'ligious.' So we has to walk
+two mile for a man to git his yoke of oxen to pull us out dat mudhole, and
+when we out, massa say, 'Thank de Lawd.' And missus say, 'Thank de mens
+and de oxen.'</p>
+
+<p>"Den one day we'uns camps under a big tree and when we'uns woke
+in de mornin' dere am worms and worms and worms. Millions of dem come off
+dat tree. Man, man, dat am a mess. Massa say dey army worms and missus say,
+'Why for dey not in de army den?'</p>
+
+<p>"After we been in Texas 'bout a year, missy Mary gits married to
+John Olham. Missy Mary am massa's daughter. After dat I lives with her and
+Massa John and den hell start poppin' for dis nigger. Missy Mary am good but
+Massa John am de devil. Dat man sho' am cruel, he works me to death and whups
+me for de leas' thing. My pappy say to me, 'You should 'come a runaway nigger.'
+He runs 'way hisself and dat de las' time we hears of him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"When surrender come I has to stay on with Massa Olham, 'cause I has
+no place to go and I's too young to know how to do for myself. I stays 'bout
+till I's 16 year old and den I hunts some place to work and gits it in Jacksboro
+and stays dere sev'ral years. I quits when I gits married and dat 'bout
+nine year after de war end.</p>
+
+<p>"I marries Dick Hines at Silver Creek and he am a farmer and a contrary
+man. He worked jus' as hard at his contrariness as him did at his farmin'.
+Mercy, how distressin' and worryment am life with dat nigger! I couldn't
+stand it no longer dan five year till I tooks my getaway. De nex' year I
+marries Sam Walker what worked for cattlement here in Fort Worth and he died
+'bout 20 year ago. Den 'twas 'bout 13 year ago I marries Jack Holman and
+he died in 1930. I's sho' try dis marrin' business but I ain't gwine try it
+no more, no, suh.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twixt all dem husbands and workin' for de white folks I gits 'long,
+but I's old and de last few years I can't work. Dey pays me $12.00 de month
+from de State and dat's what I lives on. Shucks, I's not worth nothin' no
+more. I jus' sets and sets and thinks of de old days and my mammy. All dat
+make me sad. I'll tell you one dem songs what 'spresses my feelin's 'zactly.</p>
+
+<p>
+"I's am climbin' Jacob's ladder, ladder,<br />
+I's am climbin' Jacob's ladder, ladder,<br />
+Soldier of de cross; O-h-h-h! Rise and shine,<br />
+Give Gawd de glory, glory, glory,<br />
+In de year of Jubilee.<br />
+I wants to climb up Jacob's ladder, ladder,<br />
+Jacob's ladder, till I gits in de new Jerusalem.<br />
+<br />
+"Dat jus' how I feels."<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420143" id="n420143"></a>420143</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>LARNCE HOLT, 79, was born
+near Woodville, in Tyler
+County, Texas, a slave of
+William Holt. He now lives
+in Beaumont, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I's jus' small fry when freedom come, 'cause I's born in
+1858. Bill Holt was my massa's name, dat why dey calls me Larnce
+Holt. My massa, he come from Alabama but my mammy and daddy born
+in Texas. Mammy named Hannah and daddy Elbert. Mammy cooked for
+de white folks but daddy, he de shoemaker. Dat consider' a fine
+job on de plantation, 'cause he make all de shoes de white folks
+uses for everyday and all de cullud people shoes. Every time dey
+kill de beef dey save de hide for leather and dey put it in de
+trough call de tan vat, with de oak bark and other things, and leave
+'em dere long time. Dat change de raw hide to leather. When de
+shoe done us black dem with soot, 'cause us have to do dat or wear
+'em red. I's de little tike what help my daddy put on de soot.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa have de big plantation and I 'member de big log house.
+It have de gallery on both sides and dey's de long hall down de
+center. De dogs and sometimes a possum used to run through de hall
+at night. De hall was big 'nough to dance in and I plays de fiddle.</p>
+
+<p>"My mammy have four boys, call Eb and Ander and Tobe. My
+big brother Eb he tote so many buckets of water to de hands in de
+field he wore all de hair offen de top he head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I be so glad when Christmas come, when I's li'l. Down in de quarter
+us hang up stocking and us have plenty homemake ginger cake and candy make
+out of sugar and maybe a apple. One Christmas I real small and my mammy
+buy me a suit of clothes in de store. I so proud of it I 'fraid to sit down
+in it. 'Terials in dem day was strong and last a long time. One time I
+git de first pair shoes from a store. I thought dey's gold. My daddy bought
+dem for me and dey have a brace in de toe and was nat'ral black.</p>
+
+<p>"When freedom come us family breaks up. Old missy can't bear
+see my mammy go, so us stay. Dey give my daddy a place on credick and he
+start farm and dey even 'low him hosses and mule and other things he need.
+My massa good to de niggers. I stays with my mammy till she die when I ten
+year old and den my brother Eb he take me and raise me till I sixteen. Den
+I go off for myself.</p>
+
+<p>"Dem young year us have good time. I fiddle to de dance, play
+'Git up in de Cool,' and 'Hopus Creek and de Water.' Us sho' dress up for
+de dance. I have black calico pants with red ribbon up de sides and a
+hickory shirt. De gals all wears ribbons 'round de waist and one like it
+'round de head.</p>
+
+<p>"Us have more hard time after freedom come dan in all de other time
+together. Us livin' in trouble time. 'Bout 15 year ago I lost a leg, a big
+log fall 'cross it when I makin' ties. I had plenty den but it go for de
+hospital.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420120" id="n420120"></a>420120</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 197px;"><a href="images/162153v.png">
+<img src="images/162153r.png" width="197" height="300" alt="Bill Homer" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Bill Homer</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>BILL HOMER, 87, was born a slave
+on June 17, 1850, to Mr. Jack Homer,
+who owned a large plantation near
+Shreveport, La. In 1860 Bill was
+given to Mr. Homer's daughter, who
+moved to Caldwell, Texas. Bill now
+lives at 3215 McKinley Ave., Fort
+Worth, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I is 87 years old, 'cause I is born on June 17th, in
+1850, and that's 'cording to de statement my missy give me. I was born
+on Massa Jack Homer's plantation, close to Shreveport. Him owned my
+mammy and my pappy and 'bout 100 other slaves. Him's plantation was
+a big un. I don't know how many acres him have, but it was miles long.
+Dere was so many buildings and sheds on dat place it was a small town.
+De massa's house was a big two-story building and dere was de spinnin'
+house, de smokehouse, de blacksmith shop and a nursery for de cullud
+chillens and a lot of sheds and sich. In de nigger quarters dere was
+50 one-room cabins and dey was ten in a row and dere was five rows.</p>
+
+<p>"De cabins was built of logs and had dirt floors and a hole
+whar a window should be and a stone fireplace for de cookin' and de
+heat. Dere was a cookhouse for de big house and all de cookin' for
+de white folks was 'tended to by four cooks. We has lots of food, too&mdash;cornmeal
+and vegetables and milk and 'lassas and meat. For mos' de
+meat dey kotched hawgs in de Miss'sippi River bottoms. Once a week,
+we have white flour biscuit.</p>
+
+<p>"Some work was hard and some easy, but massa don' 'lieve in
+overworkin' his slaves. Sat'day afternoon and Sunday, dere was no
+work. Some whippin' done, but mos' reasonable. If de nigger stubborn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+deys whips 'nough for to change his mind. If de nigger runs on, dat
+calls de good whippin's. If any of de cullud folks has de misery, dey
+lets him res' in bed and if de misery bad de massa call de doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"I larnt to be coachman and drive for massa's family. But in
+de year of 1860, Missy Mary gits married to Bill Johnson and at dat
+weddin' massa Homer gives me and 49 other niggers to her for de weddin'
+present. Massa Johnson's father gives him 50 niggers too. Dey has a
+gran' weddin'. I helps take care of de hosses and dey jus' kep' a-comin'.
+I 'spect dere was more'n 100 peoples dere and dey have lots of music
+and dancin' and eats and, I 'spects, drinks, 'cause we'uns made peach
+brandy. You see, de massa had his own still.</p>
+
+<p>"After de weddin' was over, dey gives de couple de infare.
+Dere's whar dis nigger comes in. I and de other niggers was lined up,
+all with de clean clothes on and den de massa say, 'For to give my lovin'
+daughter de start, I gives you dese 50 niggers. Massa Bill's father done
+de same for his son, and dere we'uns was, 100 niggers with a new massa.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey loads 15 or 20 wagons and starts for Texas. We travels from
+daylight to dark, with mos' de niggers walkin'. Of course, it was hard,
+but we enjoys de trip. Dere was one nigger called Monk and him knows a
+song and larned it to us, like this:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Walk, walk, you nigger, walk!<br />
+De road am dusty, de road am tough,<br />
+Dust in de eye, dust in de tuft;<br />
+Dust in de mouth, yous can't talk&mdash;<br />
+Walk, you niggers, don't you balk.<br />
+<br />
+"'Walk, walk, you nigger walk!<br />
+De road am dusty, de road am rough.<br />
+Walk 'til we reach dere, walk or bust&mdash;<br />
+De road am long, we be dere by and by.'<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Now, we'uns was a-follerin' behin' de wagons and we'uns sings it to de
+slow steps of de ox. We'uns don't sing it many times 'til de missy
+come and sit in de back of de wagon, facin' we'uns and she begin to beat
+de slow time and sing wid we'uns. Dat please Missy Mary to sing with us
+and she laugh and laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"After 'bout two weeks we comes to de place near Caldwell, in Texas,
+and dere was buildin's and land cleared, so we's soon settled. Massa
+plants mostly cotton and corn and clears more land. I larned to be a
+coachman, but on dat place I de ox driver or uses de hoe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yous never drive de ox, did yous? De mule ain't stubborn side of
+de ox, de ox am stubborn and den some more. One time I's haulin' fence
+rails and de oxen starts to turn gee when I wants dem to go ahead. I calls
+for haw, but dey pays dis nigger no mind and keeps agwine gee. Den dey
+starts to run and de overseer hollers and asks me, 'Whar you gwine?' I
+hollers back, 'I's not gwine, I's bein' took.' Dem oxen takes me to de
+well for de water, 'cause if dey gits dry and is near water, dey goes in
+spite of de devil.</p>
+
+<p>"De treatment from new massa am good, 'cause of Missy Mary. She say
+to Massa Bill, 'if you mus' 'buse de nigger, 'buse yous own.' We has music
+and parties. We plays de quill, make from willow stick when de sap am up.
+Yous takes de stick and pounds de bark loose and slips it off, den slit de
+wood in one end and down one side, puts holes in de bark and put it back on
+de stick. De quill plays like de flute.</p>
+
+<p>"I never goes out without de pass, so I never has trouble with de
+patter rollers. Nigger Monk, him have de 'sperience with 'em. Dey kotched<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
+him twice and dey sho' makes him hump and holler. After dat he gits
+pass or stays to home.</p>
+
+<p>"De War make no diff'runce with us, 'cept de soldiers comes
+and takes de rations. But we'uns never goes hungry, 'cause de massa
+puts some niggers hustlin' for wil' hawgs. After surrender, missy reads
+de paper and tells dat we'uns is free, but dat we'uns kin stay 'til we
+is 'justed to de change.</p>
+
+<p>"De second year after de War, de massa sells de plantation
+and goes back to Louisiana and den we'uns all lef'. I goes to Laredo
+for seven year and works on a stock ranch, den I goes to farmin'. I
+gits married in 1879 to Mary Robinson and we'uns has 14 chilluns. Four
+of dem lives here.</p>
+
+<p>"I works hard all my life 'til 1935 and den I's too old.
+My wife and I lives on de pensions we gits.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420234" id="n420234"></a>420234</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 208px;"><a href="images/162157v.png">
+<img src="images/162157r.png" width="208" height="300" alt="Scott Hooper" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Scott Hooper</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>SCOTT HOOPER, 81, was born a
+slave of the Rev. Robert Turner,
+a Baptist minister who owned
+seven slave families. They lived
+on a small farm near Tenaha, then
+called Bucksnort, in Shelby County,
+Texas. Scott's father was owned
+by Jack Hooper, a neighboring
+farmer. Scott married Steve Hooper
+when she was thirteen and they had
+eight children, whose whereabouts
+are now unknown to her. She receives
+an $8.00 monthly pension.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Well, I'll do de best I can to tell yous 'bout my life. I used
+to have de good 'collection, but worryment 'bout ups and downs has 'fected
+my 'membance. I knows how old I is, 'cause mammy have it in de Bible, and
+I's born in de year 1856, right in Shelby County, and near by Bucksnort, what
+am call Tenaha now.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Turner am de bestest man he could be and taken good care of
+us, for sho'. He treat us like humans. There am no whuppin's like some
+other places has. Gosh. What some dem old slaves tell 'bout de whup and de
+short rations and lots of hard work am awful, so us am lucky.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa don't have de big place, but jus' seven families what was
+five to ten in de family. My mammy had nine chillen, but my pappy didn't
+live on us place, but on Jack Hooper's farm, what am four mile off. He
+comes Wednesday and Saturday night to see us. His massa am good, too, and
+lets him work a acre of land and all what he raises he can sell. Pappy
+plants cotton and mostest de time he raises better'n half de bale to he
+acre.
+
+Dat-a-way, he have money and he own pony and saddle, and he brung us chillen
+candy and toys and coffee and tea for mammy. He done save 'bout $500 when
+surrender come, but it am all 'Federate money and it ain't worth nothin'.
+He give it to us chillen to play with.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Massa Turner am de Baptist preacherman and he have de church at
+Bucksnort. He run de store, too, and folks laughs 'cause 'sides being a
+preacherman he sells whiskey in dat store. He makes it medicine for us,
+with de cherry bark and de rust from iron nails in it. He call it, 'Bitters,'
+and it a good name. It sho' taste bitter as gall. When us feels de misery
+it am bitters us gits. Castor oil am candy 'side dem bitters!</p>
+
+<p>"My grandmammy am de cook and all us eats in de shed. It am plenty
+food and meat and 'lasses and brown sugar and milk and butter, and even some
+white flour. Course, peas and beans am allus on dat table.</p>
+
+<p>"<a name='TC_27'></a><ins title="Whnen">When</ins> surrender come massa calls all us in de yard and makes de talk.
+He tells us we's free and am awful sorry and show great worryment. He say
+he hate to part with us and us been good to him, but it am de law. He say us
+can stay and work de land on shares, but mostest left. Course, mammy go to
+Massa Hooper's place to pappy and he rents land from Massa Hooper, and us
+live there seven years and might yet, but dem Klu Klux causes so much troublement.
+All us niggers 'fraid to sleep in de house and goes to de woods at night.
+Pappy gits 'fraid something happen to us and come to Fort Worth. Dat in 1872
+and he farms over in de bottom.</p>
+
+<p>"I's married to Steve Hooper den, 'cause us marry when I's thirteen years
+old. He goes in teamin' in Fort Worth and hauls sand and gravel twenty-nine
+years. He doin' sich when he dies in 1900. Den I does laundry work till I's
+too old. I tries to buy dis house and does fair till age catches me and now
+I can't pay for it. All I has is $8.00 de month and I's glad to git dat, but
+it won't even buy food. On sich 'mount, there am no way to stinch myself and
+pinch off de payments on de house. Dat am de worryment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420021" id="n420021"></a>420021</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 543px;"><a href="images/162159av.png">
+<img src="images/162159ar.png" width="543" height="300" alt="Alice Houston (A)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Alice Houston (A)</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 219px;"><a href="images/162159bv.png">
+<img src="images/162159br.png" width="219" height="300" alt="Alice Houston (B)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Alice Houston (B)</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>ALICE HOUSTON, pioneer nurse and
+midwife on whom many San Angeloans
+have relied for years, was
+born October 22, 1859. She was a
+slave of Judge Jim Watkins on his
+small plantation in Hays County,
+near San Marcos, Texas and served
+as house girl to her mistress, Mrs.
+Lillie Watkins for many years after
+the Civil War. At Mrs. Watkins'
+death she came with her husband, Jim
+Houston, to San Angelo, Texas where
+she has continued her services as
+nurse to white families to the present
+time.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>Alice relates her slave day experiences as follows:</p>
+
+<p>"I was jes' a little chile when dat Civil War broke
+out and I's had de bes' white folks in de world. My ole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
+mistress she train me for her house girl and nurse
+maid. Dat's whar I's gits so many good ideas fer
+nursin'.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother's name was Mariah Watkins an' my
+father was named Henry Watkins. He would go out in de
+woods on Sat'day nights and ketch 'possums and bring
+dem home and bake 'em wid taters. Dat was de best eatin'
+we had. Course we had good food all de time but we jes'
+like dat 'possum best.</p>
+
+<p>"My marster, he only have four families and he had
+a big garden fer all of us. We had our huts at de back
+of de farm. Dey was made out of logs and de cracks daubbed
+up wid mud. Dey was clean and comfortable though, and we
+had good beds.</p>
+
+<p>"When we was jes' little kids ole marster he ketch
+us a stealin' watermelons and he say, 'Git! Git! Git! And
+when we runs and stoops over to crawl through de crack of
+de fence he sho' give us a big spank. Den we runs off
+cryin' and lookin' back like.</p>
+
+<p>"Ole marster, he had lots of hogs and cows and
+chickens and I can jes' taste dat clabber milk now. Ole
+miss, she have a big dishpan full of clabber and she tells de girl
+to set dat down out in de yard and she say, 'Give all dem
+chillun a spoon now and let dem eat dat.' When we all git
+'round dat pan we sho' would lick dat clabber up.</p>
+
+<p>"We had straight slips made out of white lowell what
+was wove on dat ole spinnin' wheel. Den dey make jeans for
+de men's breeches and dye it wid copperas and some of de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
+cloth dey dye wid sumac berries and hit was sho' purty too.</p>
+
+<p>"Ole miss, she make soda out of a certain kind of weed
+and dey makes coffee out of dried sweet taters.</p>
+
+<p>"My marster he didn' have no over-seer. He say his
+slaves had to be treated right. He never 'lowed none of his
+slaves to be sold 'way from their folks. I's nev'r, nev'r
+seen any slaves in chains but I's hear talk of dem chains.</p>
+
+<p>"My white folks, dey tries to teach us to read and spell
+and write some and after ole marster move into town he lets us
+go to a real school. That's how come I can read so many docto'
+books you see.</p>
+
+<p>"We goes to church wid our white folks at dem camp
+meetin's and oh Lawdy! Yes, mam, we all sho' did shout.
+Sometimes we jined de church too.</p>
+
+<p>"We washed our clothes on Sat'day and danced dat night.</p>
+
+<p>"On Christmas and New Year we would have all de good
+things old marster and ole missus had and when any of de
+white folks marry or die dey sho' carry on big. Weddin's
+and funerals, dem was de biggest times.</p>
+
+<p>"When we gits sick, ole marster he have de docto'
+right now. He sho' was good 'bout dat. Ole miss she make
+us wear a piece of lead 'round our necks fer de malaria and
+to keeps our nose from bleedin' and all of us wore some asafoetida
+'round our necks to keep off contagion.</p>
+
+<p>"When de war close ole marster calls up all de slaves
+and he say, 'You's all free people now, jes' same as I is,
+and you can go or stay,' and we all wants to stay 'cause<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
+wasn't nothin' we knowed how to do only what ole marster
+tells us. He say he let us work de land and give us half
+of what we make, and we all stayed on several years until
+he died. We stayed with Miss Watkins, and here I is an ole
+nigga, still adoin' good in dis world, a-tellin' de white
+folks how to take care of de chilluns."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420271" id="n420271"></a>420271</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>JOSEPHINE HOWARD was born in
+slavery on the Walton plantation
+near Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
+She does not know her age, but
+when Mr. Walton moved to Texas,
+before the Civil War, she was
+old enough to work in the fields.
+Josephine is blind and very feeble.
+She lives with a daughter at 1520
+Arthur St., Houston, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Lawd have mercy, I been here a thousand year, seems like. 'Course
+I ain't been here so long, but it seems like it when I gits to thinkin'
+back. It was long time since I was born, long 'fore de war. Mammy's
+name was Leonora and she was cook for Marse Tim Walton what had de
+plantation at Tuscaloosa. Dat am in Alabamy. Papa's name was Joe Tatum
+and he lived on de place 'jinin' ourn. Course, papa and mamy wasn't
+married like folks now, 'cause dem times de white folks jes' put slave
+men and women together like hosses or cattle.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey allus done tell us it am wrong to lie and steal, but why did de
+white folks steal my mammy and her mammy? Dey lives clost to some water,
+somewheres over in Africy, and de man come in a little boat to de sho' and
+tell dem he got presents on de big boat. Most de men am out huntin' and
+my mammy and her mammy gits took out to dat big boat and dey locks dem in
+a black hole what mammy say so black you can't see nothin'. Dat de sinfulles'
+stealin' dey is.</p>
+
+<p>"De captain keep dem locked in dat black hole till dat boat gits to Mobile
+and dey is put on de block and sold. Mammy is 'bout twelve year old and
+dey am sold to Marse Tim, but grandma dies in a month and dey puts her in
+de slave graveyard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mammy am nuss gal till she git older and den cook, and den old
+Marse Tim puts her and papa together and she has eight chillen. I reckon
+Marse Tim warn't no wor'ser dan other white folks. De nigger driver sho'
+whip us, with de reason and without de reason. You never knowed. If dey
+done took de notion dey jes' lays it on you and you can't do nothin'.</p>
+
+<p>"One mornin' we is all herded up and mammy am cryin' and say dey
+gwine to Texas, but can't take papa. He don't 'long to dem. Dat de lastes'
+time we ever seed papa. Us and de women am put in wagons but de men slaves
+am chained together and has to walk.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse Tim done git a big farm up by Marshall but only live a year
+dere and his boys run de place. Dey jes' like dey papa, work us and work us.
+Lawd have mercy, I hear dat call in de mornin' like it jes' jesterday,
+'All right, everybody out, and you better git out iffen you don't want to
+feel dat bullwhip 'cross you back.'</p>
+
+<p>"My gal I lives with don't like me to talk 'bout dem times. She say
+it ain't no more and it ain't good to think 'bout it. But when you has live
+in slave times you ain't gwine forgit dem, no, suh! I's old and blind and
+no 'count, but I's alive, but in slave times I'd be dead long time ago, 'cause
+white folks didn't have no use for old niggers and git shet of dem one way or
+t'other.</p>
+
+<p>"It ain't till de sojers comes we is free. Dey wants us to git in de
+pickin', so my folks and some more stays. Dey didn't know no place to go to.
+Mammy done took sick and die and I hires out to cook for Missy Howard, and
+marries her coachman, what am Woodson Howard. We farms and comes to Houston<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
+nigh sixty year ago. Dey has mule cars den. Woodson gits a job drayin' and
+'fore he dies we raises three boys and seven gals, but all 'cept two gals am
+dead now. Dey takes care of me, and dat all I know 'bout myself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420275" id="n420275"></a>420275</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>LIZZIE HUGHES, blind Negress of
+Harrison County, Texas, was born
+on Christmas Day, 1848, a slave
+of Dr. Newton Fall, near Nacogdoches.
+Lizzie married when she
+was eighteen and has lived near
+Marshall since that time. She
+is cared for by a married daughter,
+who <a name='TC_28'></a><ins title="live">lives</ins> on Lizzie's farm.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My name am Lizzie Fall Hughes. I was borned on Christmas
+at Chireno, 'tween old Nacogdoches town and San Augustine. Dat
+eighty-nine year ago in slavery time. My young master give me
+my age on a piece of paper when I married but the rats cut it up.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'longed to Dr. Fall and old Miss Nancy, his wife. They
+come from Georgia. Papa was named Ed Wilson Fall and mammy was
+June. Dr. Newton Fall had a big place at Chireno and a hundred
+slaves. They lived in li'l houses round the edge of the field.
+We had everything we needed. Dr. Newton run a store and was a big
+printer. He had a printin' house at Chireno and 'nother in California.</p>
+
+<p>"The land was red and they worked them big Missouri mules
+and sho' raised somethin'. Master had fifty head of cows, too, and
+they was plenty wild game. When master was gone he had a overseer,
+but tell him not to whip. He didn't 'lieve in rushin' his niggers.
+All the white folks at Chireno was good to they niggers. On Saturday
+night master give all the men a jug of syrup and a sack of flour and
+a ham or middlin' and the smokehouse was allus full of beef and pork.
+We had a good time on that place and the niggers was happy. I 'member
+the men go out in the mornin', singin':<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>
+"'I went to the barn with a shinin', bright moon,<br />
+I went to the wood a-huntin' a coon.<br />
+The coon spied me from a sugar maple tree,<br />
+Down went my gun and up the tree went me.<br />
+Nigger and coon come tumblin' down,<br />
+Give the hide to master to take off to town,<br />
+That coon was full of good old fat,<br />
+And master brung me a new beaver hat.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Part of 'nother song go like this:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Master say, you breath smell of brandy,<br />
+Nigger say, no, I's lick 'lasses candy.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"When old master come to the lot and hear the men singin' like that,
+he say, 'Them boys is lively this mornin', I's gwine git a big day's plowin'
+done. They did, too, 'cause them big Missouri mules sho' tore up that red
+land. Sometime they sing:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'This ain't Christmas mornin', just a long summer day,<br />
+Hurry up, yellow boy and don't run 'way,<br />
+Grass in the cotton and weeds in the corn,<br />
+Get in the field, 'cause it soon be morn.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"At night when the hands come in they didn't do nothin' but eat and cut
+up round the quarters. They'd have a big ball in a big barn there on the
+place and sixty and seventy on the floor at once, singin':</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Juba this and Juba that,<br />
+Juba killed a yaller cat.<br />
+Juba this and Juba that,<br />
+Hold you partner where you at.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"The whites preached to the niggers and the niggers preached to theyselves.
+Gen'man sho' could preach good them times; everybody cried, they
+preached so good. I's a mourner when I git free.</p>
+
+<p>"I's big 'nough to work round the house when war starts, but not big
+'nough to be studyin' 'bout marryin'. I's sho' sorry when we's sot free.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+Old master didn't tell his niggers they free. He didn't want them to go.
+On a day he's gone, two white men come and showed us a piece of paper and
+say we's free now. One them men was a big mill man and told mama he'll give
+her $12.00 a month and feed her seven li'l niggers if she go cook for his
+millhands. Papa done die in slavery, so mama goes with the man. I run off
+and hid under the house. I wouldn't leave till I seed master. When he come
+home he say, 'Lizzie, why didn't you go?' I say, 'I don't want to leave my
+preserves and light bread.' He let me stay.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I gits me a li'l man. He works for master in the store and
+I works round the house. Master give me two dresses and a pair of shoes
+when I married. We lived with him a year or two and then come to Marshall.
+My husband worked on public work and I kept house for white folks and we
+saved our money and buyed this li'l farm. My man's dead fourteen years
+now and my gal and her husband keeps the farm goin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Me and my man didn't have nothin' when we left Nacogdoches, but
+we works hard and saves our money and buyed this farm. It 'pear like these
+young niggers don't try to 'cumulate nothin'.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420226" id="n420226"></a>420226</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 168px;"><a href="images/162169v.png">
+<img src="images/162169r.png" width="168" height="300" alt="Moses Hursey" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Moses Hursey</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MOSE HURSEY believes he is about
+eighty-two years old. He was born
+in slavery on a plantation in Louisiana,
+and was brought to Texas by his
+parents after they were freed. Mose
+has been a preacher most of his life,
+and now believes he is appointed by
+God to be "Head Prophet of the World."
+He lives with his daughter at 1120
+Tenth St., Dallas, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was born somewhere in Louisiana, but can't rec'lect the place
+exact, 'cause I was such a little chap when we left there. But I heared
+my mother and father say they belonged to Marse Morris, a fine gentleman,
+with everything fine. He sold them to Marse Jim Boling, of Red River
+County, in Texas. So they changes their name from Morris to Boling, Liza
+Boling and Charlie Boling, they was. Marse Boling didn't buy my brother
+and sister, so that made me the olderest child and the onliest one.</p>
+
+<p>"The Bolings had a 'normous big house and a 'normous big piece of
+land. The house was the finest I ever seen, white and two-story. He had
+about sixty slaves, and he thought a powerful lot of my folks, 'cause they
+was good workers. My mother, special, was a powerful 'ligious woman.</p>
+
+<p>"We lived right well, considerin'. We had a little log house like
+the rest of the niggers and I played round the place. Eatin' time come,
+my mother brung a pot of peas or beans and cornbread or side meat. I had
+'nother brother and sister comin' 'long then, and we had tin plates and cups
+and knives and spoons, and allus sot to our food.</p>
+
+<p>"We had 'nough of clothes, sich as they was. I wore shirttails out of
+duckings till I was a big boy. All the little niggers wore shirttails. My
+mother had fair to middlin' cotton dresses.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"All week the niggers worked plantin' and hoein' and carin' for the
+livestock. They raised cotton and corn and veg'tables, and mules and horses
+and hawgs and sheep. On Sundays they had meetin', sometimes at our house,
+sometimes at 'nother house. Right fine meetin's, too. They'd preach and pray
+and sing&mdash;shout, too. I heared them git up with a powerful force of the
+spirit, clappin' they hands and walkin' round the place. They'd shout, 'I
+got the glory. I got that old time 'ligion in my heart.' I seen some powerful
+'figurations of the spirit in them days. Uncle Billy preached to us and he was
+right good at preachin' and nat'rally a good man, anyways. We'd sing:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Sisters, won't you help me bear my cross,<br />
+Help me bear my cross,<br />
+I been done wear my cross.<br />
+I been done with all things here,<br />
+'Cause I reach over Zion's Hill.<br />
+Sisters, won't you please help bear my cross,<br />
+Up over Zion's hill?'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"I seed a smart number of wagons and mules a-passin' along and some
+camp along the woods by our place. I heared they was a war and folks was goin'
+with 'visions and livestock. I wasn't much bigger'n a minute and I was scared
+clean to my wits.</p>
+
+<p>"Then they's a time when paw says we'll be a-searchin' a place to stay
+and work on a pay way. They was a consider'ble many niggers left the Bolings.
+The day we went away, which was 'cause 'twas the breakin' up of slavery, we
+went in the wagon, out the carriage gate in front the Boling's place. As we
+was leavin', Mr. Boling called me and give me a cup sweet coffee. He thought
+consid'ble plenty of me.</p>
+
+<p>"We went to a place called Mantua, or somethin' like that. My paw says
+he'll make a man of me, and he puts me to breakin' ground and choppin' wood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
+Them was bad times. Money was scarce and our feedin' was pore.</p>
+
+<p>"My paw died and maw and me and the children, Nancy and Margina and
+Jessie and George, moves to a little place right outside Sherman. Maw took
+in washin' and ironin'. I went one week to school and the teacher said I
+learned fastest of any boy she ever see. She was a nice, white lady. Maw
+took me out of school 'cause she needed me at home to tend the other children,
+so's she could work. I had a powerful yearnin' to read and write, and I
+studied out'n my books by myself and my friends helped me with the cipherin'.</p>
+
+<p>"I did whatever work I could find to do, but my maw said I was a
+different mood to the other children. I was allus of a 'ligious and serious
+turn of mind. I was baptised when I was fifteen and then when I was about
+twenty-five I heared a clear call to preach the Gospel-word. I went to
+preachin' the word of Gawd. I got married and raised a family of children,
+and I farmed and preached.</p>
+
+<p>"I was just a preacher till about thirty years ago, and then Gawd
+started makin' a prophet out of me. Today I am Mose Hursey, Head Prophet
+to the World. They is lesser prophets, but I is the main one. I became a
+great prophet by fastin' and prayin'. I fast Mondays and Wednesdays and
+Fridays. I know Gawd is feedin' the people through me. I see him in visions
+and he speaks to me. In 1936 I saw him at Commerce and Jefferson Streets (Dallas)
+and he had a great banner, sayin', 'All needs a pension.' In August this year
+I had a great vision of war in the eastern corner of the world. I seen miles
+of men marchin' and big guns and trenches filled with dead men. Gawd tells me
+to tell the people to be prepared, 'cause the tides of war is rollin' this way,
+<a name='TC_29'></a><ins title="nand">and</ins> all the thousands of millions of dollars they spend agin it ain't goin' to
+stop it. I live to tell people the word Gawd speaks through me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420081" id="n420081"></a>420081</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 198px;"><a href="images/162172v.png">
+<img src="images/162172r.png" width="198" height="300" alt="Charley Hurt" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Charley Hurt</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>CHARLEY HURT, 85, was born a
+slave of John Hurt, who owned
+a large plantation and over a
+hundred slaves, in Oglethorpe
+County, Georgia. Charley stayed
+with his master for five years
+after the Civil War. In 1899
+Charley moved to Fort Worth, and
+now lives at 308 S. Harding St.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Yes, suh, I'm borned in slavery and not 'shamed of it, 'cause
+I can't help how I'm borned. Dere am folks what wont say dey borned in
+slavery.</p>
+
+<p>"Us plantation am near Maxie, over in Oglethorpe County, in
+Georgia, and massa am John Hurt and he have near a hunerd slaves. Us
+live in de li'l cabin make from logs chink with mud and straw and twigs
+am mix with dat mud to make it hold. De big chimley am outside de cabin
+mostly, and am logs and mud, too. De cabin am 'bout ten by twenty feet
+and jus' one room.</p>
+
+<p>"Would I like some dem rations we used to git, now? 'Deed I would.
+Dem was good, dat meat and cornmeal and 'lasses and plenty milk and sometimes
+butter. De meat am mostest pork, with some beef, 'cause massa raise
+plenty hawgs and tendin' meat curin' am my first work. I puts dat meat in
+de brine and den smokes de hams and shoulders. When hawg-killin' time come
+I'm busy watchin' de smokehouse, what am big, and hams and sich hung on racks
+'bout six feet high from de fireplace. Den it my duty to keep dat fire
+smoulderin' and jus' smokin'. De more smoke, de better. Den I packs dat
+meat in hawgs heads and puts salt over each layer. Dat am some meat!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I mus' tell you 'bout dat whiskey and brandy. Massa have he own
+still and allus have three barrels or more whiskey and brandy on hand. Den
+on Christmas Day, him puts a tub of whiskey or brandy in de yard and hangs
+tin cups 'round de tub. Us helps ourselves. At first us start jokin' with
+each other, den starts to sing and everybody am happy. Massa watches us
+and if one us gittin' too much, massa sends him to he cabin and he sleep it
+off. Anyway, dat one day on massa's place all am happy and forgits dey am
+slaves.</p>
+
+<p>"De last Christmas 'fore surrender I gits too much and am sick.
+Gosh a-mighty! Dat de sickest I ever be and dat de last time I gits drunk.
+Yes, suh, dat spoil dis nigger's taste for whiskey.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, 'bout whuppin's, dere am only one whuppin' what am give. Jerry
+gits dat, 'cause he wont do what massa say. He tie Jerry on de log and
+have de rawhide whip.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere am system on dat plantation. Everybody do he own work, sich
+as field hands, stock hands, de blacksmith and de shoemaker and de weavers
+and clothes makers. I'm all 'round worker and goes after de mail, jus'
+runnin' 'round de place.</p>
+
+<p>"When de war start, all massa's sons jines de army. He have three.
+John am de captain and James carry de flag and I guesses August am jus'
+de plain sojer. Dey all comes home 'fore de war am finish. August git run
+over by de wheel of de cannon truck and it cripple he legs so he can't walk
+good. James gits sick with some kind fever misery and he am sent home.
+Den John am shot in de shoulder and it stay sore and won't heal. One day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>
+Jerry say to massa he want to look at dat sore. Him see somethin' stickin'
+out and he pull it. It a piece of young massa's coat and de bullet have
+carry it into de flesh and it am dere a whole year. De sore gits all right
+after dat out.</p>
+
+<p>"'Fore de boys goes to fightin' dey trains near de place where am de
+big field for to train hunerds of sojer boys. I likes dat, 'cause de drums
+goes, 'ter-ump, ter-ump, ter-ump, tump, tump,' and de fifes goes, 'te, te, ta,
+te, tat' and plays Dixie. One day Young massa trainin' dem sojers and he
+am walkin' backwards and facin' dem sojers, and jus' as him say, 'Halt,'
+down he go, flat on he back. Right away quick, him say, ''Bout face,'
+'cause him don't want dem sojers to laugh in he face, so he turn dem 'round.</p>
+
+<p>"When surrender come, all dem what not kilt comes home and dey have
+a big 'ception in Maxie. Dey have lots of long tables and de food am put
+on 'fore de train come in. Dere was two coaches full of de boys and dey
+doesn't wait for dat train to stop. No, suh, dey crawls out de windows.
+Well, dere am huggin' and kissin' of de homefolks, and dey all laughin'
+and cryin' at de same time, 'cause of de joy dey's feelin'. Den dey all
+sets down to de feast. Massa make de welcome talk. I done hide in de wagon
+full of hams and cakes and pies and dere a canvas over dat stuff, and dat
+how I gits to dat welcome home.</p>
+
+<p>"I crawls out 'fore dey unloads de wagon and 'fore long massa see me
+and him say, 'Gosh for hemlock! Boy, how comes you here?' I lets my face
+slip a li'l, 'bout half a laugh. I says, 'I rides under dat canvas.' Dat
+start him laughin' and he tells de people dat I'm a pat'otic nigger. After
+dey all eats us niggers gits to eat. For once, I gits plenty pie and cake.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Us never have much joyments in slave time. Only when de corn ready
+for huskin' all de neighbors comes dere and a whole big crowd am a-huskin'
+and singin'. I can't 'member dem songs, 'cause I'm not much for singin'.
+One go like dis:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Pull de husk, break de ear;<br />
+Whoa, I's got de red ear here.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"When you finds de red ear, dat 'titles you to de prize, like kissin' de
+gal or de drink of brandy or somethin'. Dey not 'nough red ears to suit us.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm thirteen year when surrender come. Massa don't call us to him like
+other massas done. Him jus' go 'mongst de folks and say, 'Well, folks, yous
+am free now and no longer my prop'ty, and yous 'titled to pay for work.
+I 'member old Jerry sings, 'Free, free as de jaybird, free to flew like de
+jaybird. Whew!'</p>
+
+<p>"Some de cullud folks stays and some goes. Mostest dem stays and works
+de land on shares. I stays till I'm eighteen year and den I works for a
+farmer den for a blacksmith den some carpenter work and some railroadin'. De
+fact am, I works at anything I could find to does. I does dat most my life.</p>
+
+<p>"It good for me to stay with Massa Hurt after freedom, 'cause den day
+plenty trouble in every place. Dere am fightin' 'twixt white and cullud
+folks over votin' and sich. Dey try 'lect my brudder to Congress one time,
+but he not 'lect, 'cause de white man what am runnin' 'gainst him gits a
+cullud preacher to run 'gainst dem both. Dat split de cullud votes and de
+white man am 'lect. I votes like de white man say, couple times, but after
+dat I stops votin'. It ain't right for me to vote 'less I knows how and why.
+I larns to read and den starts votin' 'gain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"After de war de Ku Klux am org'nize and dey makes de niggers plenty
+trouble. Sometimes de niggers has it comin' to 'em and lots of times dey
+am 'posed on. Dere a old, cullud man name George and he don't trouble
+nobody, but one night de white caps&mdash;dat what dey called&mdash;comes to George's
+place. Now, George know of some folks what am whupped for no-cause, so he
+prepare for dem white caps. When dey gits to he house George am in de loft.
+He tell dem he done nothin' wrong and for dem to go 'way, or he kill dem.
+Dey say he gwine have a free sample of what he git if he do wrong and one
+dem white caps starts up de ladder to git George and George shoot him dead.
+'Nother white cap starts shootin' through de ceilin'. He can't see George
+but through de cracks George can see and he shoots de second feller. So dey
+leaves and say dey come back. George runs to he old massa and he takes
+George to de law men. Never nothin' am done 'bout him killin' de white caps,
+'cause dem white caps goes 'round 'busing niggers.</p>
+
+<p>"I comes to Texas 'bout 40 year since and gits by purty good till
+de depression comes, den it hard for me. My age am 'gainst me, too, and
+many de time I's wish for some dat old ham and bacon on de old plantation.</p>
+
+<p>"First I marries Ann Arrant, in 1898 dat was, and us have three
+chillen but dey all dead. Us git sep'rate in 1917 and I marries Mary Durham
+in 1921, and us still livin' together. Us have no chillen. Mammy have ten
+chillen but I'm de only one what am livin' now, 'cause I'm de youngest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420088" id="n420088"></a>420088</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 198px;"><a href="images/162177v.png">
+<img src="images/162177r.png" width="198" height="300" alt="Wash Ingram" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Wash Ingram</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>WASH INGRAM, A 93 year old Negro,
+was born a slave of Capt. Jim Wall,
+of Richmond, Va. His father, Charley
+Wall Ingram, ran away and secured
+work in a gold mine. Later, his
+mother died and Capt. Wall sold Wash
+and his two brothers to Jim Ingram,
+of Carthage, Texas. When Wash's
+father learned this, he overtook
+his sons before they reached Texas
+and put himself back in bondage,
+so he could be with his children.
+Wash served as water carrier for
+the Confederate soldiers at the
+battle of Mansfield, La. He now
+lives with friends on the Elysian
+Fields Road, seven miles southeast
+of Marshall, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I don' know just how ole I is. I was 'bout 18 when de
+War was over. I was bo'n on Captain Wall's place in Richmond, Virgini'.
+Pappy's name was Charlie and mammy's name was Ca'line. I had
+six sisters and two brothers and all de sisters is dead. I haven't
+heard from my brothers since Master turn us loose, a year after de
+war.</p>
+
+<p>"Pappy say dat he and mammy was sold and traded lots of
+times in Virgini'. We always went by de name of whoever we belonged
+to. I first worked as a roustabout boy dere on Capt. Wall's place in
+Virgini'. He was sho' a big man, weighed more'n 200 pounds. He owned
+lots of niggers and worked lots of land. The white folks was good to
+us, but Pappy was a fightin' man and he run off and got a job in a
+gold mine in Virgini'.</p>
+
+<p>"After pappy run away, mammy died and den one day de overseer
+herded up a big bunch of us niggers and driv us to Barnum's Tradin' Ya'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>
+down in Mississippi. Dat's a place where dey sold and traded Niggers jus'
+lak stock. I cried when Capt. Wall sold me, 'cause dat was one man dat sho'
+was good to his niggers. But he had too many slaves.</p>
+
+<p>"Cotton was a good price den and dem slave buyers had plenty of money.
+We was sold to Jim Ingram, of Carthage. He bought a big gang of slaves
+and refugeed part of 'em to Louisiana and part to Texas. We come to Texas
+in ox wagons. While we was on the way, camped at Keachie, Louisiana, a man
+come ridin' into camp and someone say to me, 'Wash, dar's your pappy.' I
+didn' believe it 'cause pappy was workin' in a gold mine in Virgini'. Some
+of de men told pappy his chillen is in camp and he come and fin' me and my
+brothers. Den he jine Master Ingram's slaves so he can be with his chillen.</p>
+
+<p>"Master Ingram had a big plantation down near Carthage and lots of
+niggers. He also buyed land, cleared it and sol' it. I plowed with oxen.
+We had a overseer and sev'ral taskmasters. Dey whip de niggers for not
+workin' right, or for runnin' 'way or pilferin' roun' master's house. We
+woke up at four o'clock and worked from sunup to sundown. Dey give us an
+hour for dinner. Dem dat work roun' de house et at tables with plates.
+Dem dat work in de field was drove in from work and fed jus' like hosses
+at a big, long wooden trough. Dey had to eat with a wooden spoon. De
+trough and de food was clean and always plenty of it, and we stood up to
+eat. We went to bed soon after supper durin' de week for dat's 'bout all
+we feel like doin' after workin' twelve hours. We slep' in wooden beds what
+had corded rope mattresses.</p>
+
+<p>"We had to learn de best way we could, 'cause dere was no schools.
+We had church out in de woods. I didn' see no money till after de surrender.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>
+Guess we didn' need any, 'cause dey give us food and clothes and tobacco.
+We didn' have to buy nothin'. I had broadcloth clothes, a blue jean overcoat
+and good shoes and boots.</p>
+
+<p>"De niggers had heap better times dan now. Now we work all time
+and can't git nothin'. Sat'day night we would have parties and dance and
+play ring plays. We had de parties dere in a big double log house. Dey
+would give us whiskey and wine and cherry brandy, but dere wasn' no shootin'
+or gamblin'. Dey didn' 'low it. De men and women didn' do like dey do now.
+If dey had such carryin's on as dey do now, de white folks would have whipped
+'em good.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'member dat war and I sees dem cannons and hears 'em. I toted
+water for de soldiers what fought at de Battle of Mansfield. Master Ingram
+had 350 slaves when de war was over but he didn' turn us loose till a year
+after surrender. He telled us dat de gov'ment goin' to give us 40 acres
+of land and a pair of mules, but we didn' git nothin'. After Master Ingram
+turn us loose, pappy bought a place at De Berry, Texas, and I live with him
+till after I was grown. Den I marry and move to Louisiana. I come back to
+Texas two years ago and lived with my friends here ever since. My wife died
+18 years ago and I had a hard time 'cause I don' have no folks, but I's managed
+to git someone to let me work for somethin' to eat, a few clothes and a
+place to sleep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420047" id="n420047"></a>420047</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 206px;"><a href="images/162180v.png">
+<img src="images/162180r.png" width="206" height="300" alt="Carter J. Jackson" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Carter J. Jackson</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>CARTER J. JACKSON, 85, was born
+in Montgomery, Alabama, a slave
+of Parson Dick Rogers. In 1863
+the Rogers family brought Carter
+to Texas and he worked for them
+as a slave until four years after
+emancipation. Carter was with
+his master's son, Dick, when he
+was killed at Pittsburg, Pa.
+Carter married and moved to Tatum
+in 1871.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"If you's wants to know 'bout slavery time, it was Hell. I's
+born in Montgomery, over yonder in Alabama. My pappy named Charles
+and come from Florida and mammy named Charlotte and her from Tennessee.
+They was sold to Parson Rogers and brung to Alabama by him.
+I had seven brothers call Frank and Benjamin and Richardson and Anderson
+and Miles, Emanuel and Gill, and three sisters call Milanda,
+Evaline and Sallie, but I don't know if any of 'em are livin' now.</p>
+
+<p>"Parson Rogers come to Texas in '63 and brung 'bout 42 slaves
+and my first work was to tote water in the field. Parson lived in
+a good, big frame house, and the niggers lived in log houses what
+had dirt floors and chimneys, and our bunks had rope slats and grass
+mattress. I sho' wish I could have cotch myself sleepin' on a feather
+bed them days. I wouldn't woke up till Kingdom Come.</p>
+
+<p>"We et vegetables and meat and ash cake. You could knock you
+mammy in the head, eatin' that ash cake bread. I ain't been fit since.
+We had hominy cooked in the fireplace in big pots that ain't bad to
+talk 'bout. Deer was thick them days and we sot up sharp stobs inside
+the pea field and them young bucks jumps over the fence and stabs themselves.
+That the only way to cotch them, 'cause they so wild you
+couldn't git a fair shot with a rifle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Massa Rogers had a 300 acre plantation and 200 in cultivation
+and he had a overseer and Steve O'Neal was the nigger driver. The horn
+to git up blowed 'bout four o'clock and if we didn't fall out right now,
+the overseer was in after us. He tied us up every which way and whip us,
+and at night he walk the quarters to keep us from runnin' 'round. On
+Sunday mornin' the overseer come 'round to each nigger cabin with a big
+sack of shorts and give us 'nough to make bread for one day.</p>
+
+<p>"I used to steal some chickens, 'cause we didn't have 'nough
+to eat, and I don' think I done wrong, 'cause the place was full of 'em.
+We sho' earned what we et. I'd go up to the big house to make fires and
+lots of times I seed the mantel board lined with greenbacks, 'tween mantel
+and wall and I's snitched many a $50.00 bill, but it 'federate money.</p>
+
+<p>"Me and four of her chillen standin' by when mammy's sold for
+$500.00. Cryin' didn't stop 'em from sellin' our mammy 'way from us.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'member the war was tough and I went 'long with young massa
+Dick when he went to the war, to wait on him. I's standin' clost by when
+he was kilt under a big tree in Pittsburg, and 'fore he die he ask Wes
+Tatum, one the neighbor boys from home, to take care of me and return me
+to Massa George.</p>
+
+<p>"I worked on for Massa Rogers four year after that, jus' like
+in slavery time, and one day he call us and say we can go or stay. So I
+goes with my pappy and lives with him till 1871. Then I marries and works
+on the railroad when it's builded from Longview to Big Sandy, 'bout 1872.
+I works there sev'ral years and I raises seven chillen. After I quits the
+railroad I works wherever I can, on farms or in town.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420092" id="n420092"></a>420092</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 180px;"><a href="images/162182v.png">
+<img src="images/162182r.png" width="180" height="300" alt="James Jackson" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">James Jackson</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>JAMES JACKSON, 87, was born a
+slave to the Alexander family,
+in Caddo Parish, La. When he
+was about two, his master moved
+to Travis County, Texas. A
+short time later he and his two
+brothers were stolen and sold to
+Dr. Duvall, in Bastrop Co., Texas.
+He worked around Austin till he
+married, when he moved to Taylor
+and then to Kaufman. In 1929 he
+went to Fort Worth where he has
+lived ever since.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was bo'n at Caddo Parish, dats in Louisiana, on de
+Doc Alexander plantation. My mother says I was bo'n on de 18th
+day of December, in de year of 1850. I guess dat's right, 'cause
+I's 87 years ole dis comin' December.</p>
+
+<p>"Jus' 'bout dat time dey started shippin' de darkies
+to Texas. My marster moved to Travis County, Texas, and tuk all
+his slaves wid him. I was too young to 'member, but my mother,
+she told me 'bout it.</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn' long after we was on Marster Alexander's new
+place in Travis County, till one night a man rode up on a hoss and
+stole me and my two brothers and rode away wid us. He tuk us to
+Bastrop County and sold us to Doc Duvall. Marster Duvall sold my
+brother right after he bought us, but me and John, we stayed wid
+him till de slaves was freed.</p>
+
+<p>"On Marster Duvall's plantation de slaves all lived in
+log cabins back of de big house. Dey was one room, two rooms and
+three room cabins, dependin' on de size of de family. Most had
+dirt floors, but some of 'em had log slabs. We had dese ole wooden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
+beds wid a rope stretch 'cross de bottom and a mattress of straw
+or cotton dat de niggers got in de fiel'. We had lots to eat, like
+biscuit, cornbread, meat and sich stuff. Most times dey made coffee
+outta parch cornmeal. We had gardens and raised most of de stuff
+to eat.</p>
+
+<p>"I herds sheep and is houseboy most of de time. When I
+was ole enough, I picks cotton. I was jus' learnin' when de slaves
+was freed. Marster Duvall had over 500 acres in cotton and he kep'
+us in de fiel' all de time, 'cept Saturday afternoon and Sunday.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey had meetin' and dances Saturday nights. I was too
+young to 'member jus' what de songs was, but dey had a fiddle and
+played all night long. On ever' Sunday de niggers went to Church
+in de evenin'. Dey had a white preacher in de mornin' and a cullud
+preacher in de evenin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Marster Duvall would whip de niggers who was disobedience
+and he jus' call dem up and ask dem what was de trouble, den he would
+whip dem wid a cowhide or a rope whip. We could go anywhere iffen we
+had a pass, but if we didn' de paddlerollers would ketch us. They
+was kinda like policemen we got today.</p>
+
+<p>"In slavery, dey traded and sold niggers like dey do
+hosses and mules. Dey carry dem to de court house and put dem on de
+block and auction 'em off. Some sold for roun' $3,000. It was hard
+to sell one wid scars on him, 'cause nobody wanted him. I seen 'em
+come by in droves, all chained together.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"When de slaves was free dey was sho' happy. Dey all got
+together and had a kin' of cel'bration. Marster told dem if dey
+wanted to stay and help make de crop, he'd give 'em 50 cents a day
+and a place to stay. Some tuk him up on dat and stayed, but a lot
+of dem left dere. Me and my brother, we started walkin' to Austin.
+In Austin we finds our mother, she was working for Judge Paschal.
+She hires us out to one place and den another.</p>
+
+<p>"Since freedom I done most everything anybody could do. I
+been porter and waiter in hotels and rest'rants. I been factory hand,
+and worked for carpenters and in de roun' house. I picked cotton and
+worked on de farm.</p>
+
+<p>"I been married 61 years. I gits married at home, like
+civilize folks do. I raised a big family, 12 chillen, but only five
+is alive today. I moved here in 1929 and looks like I's here till
+I die.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420188" id="n420188"></a>420188</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MAGGIE JACKSON was born a slave of the
+Sam Oliver family, in Cass Co., Texas,
+near Douglasville. She is about 80
+years old and her memory is not very
+good, so her story gives few details.
+She lives with her daughter near Douglasville,
+on highway #8.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I am about 80 years old and was a chile during slavery
+times. My papa's name was Tom Spencer Hall and my mama's name
+was Margaret Hall. My brothers and sisters was Maria and Barbara
+and Alice and Octavia and Andrew and Thomas and Hillary and Eugenia
+and Silas and Thomas. We was a big fam'ly.</p>
+
+<p>"My mama was Sam Oliver's slave, but my papa lived a mile
+away with Masta Sam Carlow. We lived in box houses and slep' on
+wood beds and we et co'nbread and peas and grits and lots of rabbits
+and 'possums. Mama cooked it on the fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>"Masta Sam's house was big and had six big rooms with a
+hall through the middle and the kitchen sot way off in the ya'd
+and had a big cellar under it. Masta Sam had a big orchard and
+put apples and pears in the cellar for the winter. My brothers
+use' to slip under there and steal them and mama'd whip 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"The big house set 'mong big oak trees and the slaves
+houses was scattered roun' the back. Masta Sam had a ole cowhorn
+he use' to blow for the niggers to come outta the fiel'.</p>
+
+<p>"Mos' all us chillen wen' fishin' on Saturday and we'd fish
+with pins. One day I slipped off and caught a whole string of fish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We learned to read and write and we wen' to church with
+the white folks. Masta Sam was good to us and gave us plenty food and
+clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"I never was 'fraid of haints and I never see none, but
+I know some seen 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"I married John Jackson in a white muslin dress and we was
+married by Dan Sherman, a cullud preacher from Jefferson. I married
+John 'cause I loved him and we didn' fuss and fight. I has five chillen
+and five grandchillen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420083" id="n420083"></a>420083</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 197px;"><a href="images/162187av.png">
+<img src="images/162187ar.png" width="197" height="300" alt="Martin Jackson (A)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Martin Jackson (A)</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 190px;"><a href="images/162187bv.png">
+<img src="images/162187br.png" width="190" height="300" alt="Martin Jackson (B)" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Martin Jackson (B)</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MARTIN JACKSON, who calls himself
+a "black Texan", well deserves to
+select a title of more distinction,
+for it is quite possible that he is
+the only living former slave who
+served in both the Civil War and
+the World War. He was born in
+bondage in Victoria Co., Texas, in
+1847, the property of Alvy Fitzpatrick.
+This self-respecting
+Negro is totally blind, and when
+a person touches him on the arm
+to guide him he becomes bewildered
+and asks his helper to give verbal
+directions, up, down, right or left.
+It may be he has been on his own so
+long that he cannot, at this late
+date, readjust himself to the touch
+of a helping hand. His mind is uncommonly
+clear and he speaks with no
+Negro colloquialisms and almost no
+dialect.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>Following directions as to where to find Martin Jackson,
+"the most remarkable Negro in San Antonio," a researcher made his way
+to an old frame house at 419 Center St., walked up the steps and
+through the house to an open door of a rear room. There, on an iron
+bed, lay a long, thin Negro, smoking a cigarette. He was dressed in
+a woolen undershirt and black trousers and his beard and mustache
+were trimmed much after the fashion of white gallants of the Gay
+Nineties. His head was remarkably well-shaped, with striking eminences
+in his forehead over his brows.</p>
+
+<p>After a moment the intruder spoke and announced his mission.
+The old Negro, who is stone blind, quickly admitted that he was Martin
+Jackson, but before making any further comment he carried on an efficient
+interview himself; he wanted to know who the caller was, who
+had directed the visit, and just what branch of the Federal service
+happened to be interested in the days of slavery. These questions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
+satisfactorily answered, he went into his adventures and experiences, embellishing
+the highlights with uncommon discernment and very little prodding
+by the researcher.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"I have about 85 years of good memory to call on. I'm ninety, and
+so I'm not counting my first five years of life. I'll try to give you as
+clear a picture as I can. If you want to give me a copy of what you are
+going to write, I'll appreciate it. Maybe some of my children would like
+to have it.</p>
+
+<p>"I was here in Texas when the Civil War was first talked about.
+I was here when the War started and followed my young master into it with
+the First Texas Cavalry. I was here during reconstruction, after the War.
+I was here during the European World War and the second week after the
+United States declared war on Germany I enlisted as cook at Camp Leon Springs.</p>
+
+<p>"This sounds as if I liked the war racket. But, as a matter of fact,
+I never wore a uniform&mdash;grey coat or khaki coat&mdash;or carried a gun, unless
+it happened to be one worth saving after some Confederate soldier got shot. I
+was official lugger-in of men that got wounded, and might have been called a
+Red Cross worker if we had had such a corps connected with our company. My
+father was head cook for the battalion and between times I helped him out with
+the mess. There was some difference in the food served to soldiers in 1861
+and 1917!</p>
+
+<p>"Just what my feelings was about the War, I have never been able to
+figure out myself. I knew the Yanks were going to win, from the beginning.
+I wanted them to win and lick us Southerners, but I hoped they was going to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>
+do it without wiping out our company. I'll come back to that in a minute.
+As I said, our company was the First Texas Cavalry. Col. Buchell was our
+commander. He was a full-blooded German and as fine a man and a soldier
+as you ever saw. He was killed at the Battle of Marshall and died in my
+arms. You may also be interested to know that my old master, Alvy Fitzpatrick,
+was the grandfather of Governor Jim Ferguson.</p>
+
+<p>"Lots of old slaves closes the door before they tell the truth
+about their days of slavery. When the door is open, they tell how kind
+their masters was and how rosy it all was. You can't blame them for this,
+because they had plenty of early discipline, making them cautious about
+saying anything uncomplimentary about their masters. I, myself, was in a
+little different position than most slaves and, as a consequence, have no
+grudges or resentment. However, I can tell you the life of the average
+slave was not rosy. They were dealt out plenty of cruel suffering.</p>
+
+<p>"Even with my good treatment, I spent most of my time planning
+and thinking of running away. I could have done it easy, but my old father
+used to say, 'No use running from bad to worse, hunting better.' Lots of
+colored boys did escape and joined the Union army, and there are plenty of
+them drawing a pension today. My father was always counseling me. He said,
+'Every man has to serve God under his own vine and fig tree.' He kept pointing
+out that the War wasn't going to last forever, but that our forever was
+going to be spent living among the Southeners, after they got licked. He'd
+cite examples of how the whites would stand flatfooted and fight for the blacks
+the same as for members of their own family. I knew that all was true, but
+still I rebelled, from inside of me. I think I really was afraid to run away,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
+because I thought my conscience would haunt me. My father knew I felt this
+way and he'd rub my fears in deeper. One of his remarks still rings in my
+ears: 'A clear conscience opens bowels, and when you have a guilty soul it
+ties you up and death will not for long desert you.'</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I haven't had any education. I should have had one,
+though. My old missus was sorry, after the War, that she didn't teach me.
+Her name, before she married my old master, was Mrs. Long. She lived in New
+York City and had three sons. When my old master's wife died, he wrote up to
+a friend of his in New York, a very prominent merchant named C.C. Stewart.
+He told this friend he wanted a wife and gave him specifications for one.
+Well, Mrs. Long, whose husband had died, fitted the bill and she was sent
+down to Texas. She became Mrs. Fitzpatrick. She wasn't the grandmother of
+Governor Ferguson. Old Fitzpatrick had two wives that preceded Mrs. Long.
+One of the wives had a daughter named Fanny Fitzpatrick and it was her that
+was the Texas' governor's mother. I seem to have the complicated family tree
+of my old master more clear than I've got my own, although mine can be put in
+a nutshell: I married only once and was blessed in it with 45 years of devotion.
+I had 13 children and a big crop of grandchildren.</p>
+
+<p>"My earliest recollection is the day my old boss presented me to
+his son, Joe, as his property. I was about five years old and my new master
+was only two.</p>
+
+<p>"It was in the Battle of Marshall, in Louisiana, that Col. Buchell
+got shot. I was about three miles from the front, where I had pitched up a
+kind of first-aid station. I was all alone there. I watched the whole thing.
+I could hear the shooting and see the firing. I remember standing there and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
+thinking the South didn't have a chance. All of a sudden I heard someone call.
+It was a soldier, who was half carrying Col. Buchell in. I didn't do nothing
+for the Colonel. He was too far gone. I just held him comfortable, and that
+was the position he was in when he stopped breathing. That was the worst hurt
+I got when anybody died. He was a friend of mine. He had had a lot of soldiering
+before and fought in the Indian War.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the Battle of Marshall broke the back of the Texas Cavalry.
+We began straggling back towards New Orleans, and by that time the War was over.
+The soldiers began to scatter. They was a sorry-lookin' bunch of lost sheep.
+They didn't know where to go, but most of 'em ended up pretty close to the
+towns they started from. They was like homing pigeons, with only the instinct
+to go home and, yet, most of them had no homes to go to.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I never went into books. I used to handle a big dictionary
+three times a day, but it was only to put it on a chair so my young master
+could sit up higher at the table. I never went to school. I learned to talk
+pretty good by associating with my masters in their big house.</p>
+
+<p>"We lived on a ranch of about 1,000 acres close to the Jackson County
+line in Victoria County, about 125 miles from San Antonio. Just before the
+war ended they sold the ranch, slaves and all, and the family, not away fighting,
+moved to Galveston. Of course, my father and me wasn't sold with the other blacks,
+because we was away at war. My mother was drowned years before when I was a little
+boy. I only remember her after she was dead. I can take you to the spot in
+the river today where she was drowned. She drowned herself. I never knew the
+reason behind it, but it was said she started to lose her mind and preferred
+death to that."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At this point in the old Negro's narrative the sound of someone
+singing was heard. A moment later the door to the house slammed shut and
+in accompaniment to the tread of feet in the kitchen came this song:</p>
+
+<p>
+"I sing because I'm happy,<br />
+And I sing because I'm free&mdash;<br />
+His eyes is on the sparrow<br />
+And I know He watches me."<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The singer glanced in the bedroom and the song ended with both embarrassment
+and anger:</p>
+
+<p>"Father! Why didn't you say you had callers?"</p>
+
+<p>It was not long, however, before the singer, Mrs. Maggie Jackson,
+daughter-in-law of old Martin Jackson, joined in the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"The master's name was usually adopted by a slave after he was
+set free. This was done more because it was the logical thing to do and
+the easiest way to be identified than it was through affection for the
+master. Also, the government seemed to be in a almighty hurry to have us
+get names. We had to register as someone, so we could be citizens. Well,
+I got to thinking about all us slaves that was going to take the name Fitzpatrick.
+I made up my mind I'd find me a different one. One of my grandfathers
+in Africa was called Jeaceo, and so I decided to be Jackson."</p>
+
+<p>After this clear-headed Negro had posed for his photograph, the researcher
+took his leave and the old blind man bade him a gracious "good-bye."
+He stood as if watching his new friend walking away, and then lighted a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"How long have you been smoking, Martin?" called back the researcher.</p>
+
+<p>"I picked up the deadly habit," answered Martin, "over seventy-five
+years ago."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420137" id="n420137"></a>420137</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>NANCY JACKSON, about 105 years
+old, was born in Madison Co.,
+Tennessee, a slave of the Griff
+Lacy family. She was married
+during slavery and was the
+mother of three children when
+she was freed. In 1835, Nancy
+claims, she was brought to Texas
+by her owner, and has lived
+in Panola Co. all her life.
+She has no proof of her age and,
+of course, may be in the late
+nineties instead of over one
+hundred, as she thinks. She
+lives with her daughter about
+five miles west of Tatum, Tex.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I's live in Panola County now going on 102 year and that a
+mighty long time for to 'member back, but I'll try to rec'lect. I's
+born in Tennessee and I think it's in 1830 or 1832. I lives with my
+baby chile what am now 57 year old and she's born when I's 'bout
+'bout 33. But I ain't sho' 'bout my age, noways.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Griff fetches us to Texas when I a baby and my brudders
+what am Redic and Anthony and Essex and Allen and Brick and my sisters
+what am Ann and Matty and Charlotte, we all come to Texas. Mammy come
+with us but pappy was sold off the Lacy place and stays in Tennessee.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa had the bigges' house in them parts and a passel of
+slaves. Mammy's name was Letha, and we have a purty good place to
+live and massa not bad to us. We was treated fair, I guesses, but they
+allus whipped us niggers for somethin'. But when we got sick they'd
+git the doctor, 'cause losin' a nigger like losin' a pile of money in
+them days.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa sometimes outlines the Bible to us and we had a song
+what we'd sing sometimes:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>
+"'Stand your storm, Stand your storm,<br />
+Till the wind blows over,<br />
+Stand your storm, Stand your storm,<br />
+I's a sojer of the Cross,<br />
+A follower of the Lamb.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"We was woke by a bell and called to eat by a bell and put to
+bed by that bell and if that bell ring outta time you'd see the niggers
+jumpin' rail fences and cotton rows like deers or something, gettin' to
+that house, 'cause that mean something bad wrong at massa's house.</p>
+
+<p>"I marries right here in Panola County while slavery still
+here and my brother-in-law marries me and Lewis Blakely, and I's 'bout
+nineteen. My husban' 'longed to the Blakely's and after the weddin' he
+had to go back to them and they 'lowed him come to see me once a week
+on Saturday and he could stay till Sunday. I works on for the Lacy's
+more'n a year after slavery till Lewis come got me and we moved to ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'member one big time we done have in slavery. Massa gone and
+he wasn't gone. He left the house 'tendin' go on a visit and missy and
+her chillen gone and us niggers give a big ball the night they all gone.
+The leader of that ball had on massa's boots and he sing a song he make
+up:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Ole massa's gone to Philiman York<br />
+And won't be back till July 4th to come;<br />
+Fac' is, I don't know he'll be back at all,<br />
+Come on all you niggers and jine this ball.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"That night they done give that big ball, massa had blacked up
+and slip back in the house and while they singin' and dancin', he sittin'
+by the fireplace all the time. 'Rectly he spit, and the nigger who had
+on he boots recernizes him and tries climb up the chimmey."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420259" id="n420259"></a>420259</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 180px;"><a href="images/162195v.png">
+<img src="images/162195r.png" width="180" height="300" alt="Richard Jackson" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Richard Jackson</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>RICHARD JACKSON, Harrison County
+farmer, was born in 1859, a slave
+of Watt Rosborough. Richard's
+family left the Rosboroughs when
+the Negroes were freed, and moved
+to a farm near Woodlawn. Richard
+married when he was twenty-five
+and moved to an adjoining farm,
+which he now owns.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was born on the Rosborough plantation in 1859 and 'longed to
+old man Watt Rosborough. He brung my mammy out of North Carolina, but
+my pappy died when I was a baby, and mammy married Will Jackson. Besides
+me they was six brothers, Jack and Nathan, Josh and Bill and Ben and Mose.
+I had three sisters named Matilda and Charity and Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'members my mammy's father, Jack, but don't know where he come
+from. I heared him tell of fightin' the Indians on the frontier, and one
+mammy's brothers was shot with a Indian arrow.</p>
+
+<p>"The plantation jined the Sabine river and old man Watt owned many
+a slave. The old home is still standin' cross the road from Rosborough
+Springs, nine miles south of Marshall.</p>
+
+<p>"They was a white overseer on the place and mammy's stepdaddy, Kit,
+was niggerdriver and done all the whippin', 'cept of mammy. She was bad
+'bout fightin' and the overseer allus tended to her. One day he come to
+the <a name='TC_30'></a><ins title="wuarters">quarters</ins> to whip her and she up and throwed a shovel full of live coals
+from the fireplace in his bosom and run out the door. He run her all over
+the place 'fore he cotched her. I seed the overseer tie her down and whip
+her. The niggers wasn't whipped much 'cept for fightin' 'mongst themselves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I 'members mammy allus sayin' the darkies had to pray out in the
+woods, 'cause they ain't 'lowed to make no fuss round the house. She say
+they was fed and clothed well 'nough, but the overseer worked the lights out
+of the darkies. I wasn't big 'nough to do field work, but 'member goin' to
+the field to take mammy's pipe to her. They wasn't no matches in them days,
+and I allus took fire from the house and sot a stump afire in the field, so
+mammy could light her pipe.</p>
+
+<p>"None of our folks larnt to read and write till after slavery. My
+oldes' brother was larnin' to read on the sly, but the overseer found out
+'bout it and stopped him. He found some letters writ on the wall of the
+quarter with charcoal and made the darkies tell him who writ it. My brother
+Jack done it. The overseer didn't whip him, but told him he darns't do it
+'gain.</p>
+
+<p>"After surrender my folks left the Rosboroughs right straight and
+moved clost to Woodlawn. My oldes' hired out in Shreveport. When they asks
+him what he's worth, he told them he didn't know, but he was allus worth a
+heap of money when anyone wanted to buy him from the Rosboroughs.</p>
+
+<p>"The Ku Kluxers come to our house in Woodlawn, and I got scart and
+crawled under the bed. They told mammy they wasn't gwine hurt her, but jus'
+wanted water to drink. They didn't call each other by names. When the head
+man spoke to any of them he'd say, Number 1, or Number 2, and like that.</p>
+
+<p>"I thunk I heared ghosts on the Driscoll place once, up in the loft of
+the house. I heared them plain as day. My step-pa done die there and might
+of been his ghost. We moved away right straight, and old man Driscoll had to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>
+burn that house down after that, 'cause wouldn't none the darkies live in it.</p>
+
+<p>"The only time I voted was when they put whiskey out. I heared a white
+man one time in Marshall, makin' a speech on the square. He said he was gwine
+tell us darkies why they didn't low us to vote. He didn't tell us, 'cause the
+law come out and made him git out the wagon and leave.</p>
+
+<p>"This young race is sho' livin' fast, but I guess they's all right.
+Things is jes' different now to when I was a boy. When I was a boy, folks
+didn't mind helpin' one 'nother, but now they is in too big a hurry to pay
+you any mind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420016" id="n420016"></a>420016</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 191px;"><a href="images/162198v.png">
+<img src="images/162198r.png" width="191" height="300" alt="John James" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">John James</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>JOHN JAMES, 78, was born a slave
+to John Chapman, on a large plantation
+in East Baton Rouge Parish,
+Louisiana. John took the name of
+his father, who was owned by John
+James. John and his mother stayed
+with Mr. Chapman for six years after
+they were freed, then John went to
+Missouri, where he worked for the
+M. K. &amp; T. Railroad for twenty years.
+He then came to Texas, and now lives
+at 315 S. Jennings Ave., in Fort
+Worth.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I doesn't have so much mind for slavery days, 'cause I's too
+young then, but I 'members when surrender come and some befo' dat. I
+'members my mammy lef' me in de nursery with all de other cullud babies
+when she go work in de field. De old nurse, Jane, tooks care of us.</p>
+
+<p>"Dat were de big place what Massa John have and dere 'bout fifty
+cullud families on de place, so it am more'n a hunerd slaves what he own.
+I's runnin' round, like kids am allus doin', first one place, den t'other,
+watchin' everything. De big bell ring in de mornin' and you'd see all de
+cullud folks comin' from dey cabins, gwineter de kitchen to breakfast. Dat
+allus befo' daybreak, and dey have to eat by de light of de pine torch. It
+am de pineknot torch. De meals am all cooked dere and dey eat at long
+tables. De young'uns from six to ten year eats at de second table and
+little'r den dat, in de nursery.</p>
+
+<p>"I sho' 'members 'bout dat nursery feedin'. I never forgits how dat
+cornmeal mush and milk am served in de big pans. Dey gives we uns de wooden
+spoon and we'uns crowds round de pans like little pigs. I can see it now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>
+Us push and shove and de nurse walk here and dere, tryin' to make us eat like
+humans. She have to cuff one of us once in a while. If she don't, dem kids
+be in de pans with both feet. When dey done eatin', dey faces am all smear with
+mush and milk.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa allus feed plenty rations, only after war starts de old folks say
+dey am short of dis and dat, 'cause dem sojers done took it for de army.</p>
+
+<p>"After breakfast I'd see a crew go here and a crew go dere. Some of 'em
+spin and weave and make clothes, and some <a name='TC_31'></a><ins title="tann">tan</ins> de leather or do de blacksmith
+work, and mos' of 'em go out in de field to work. Dey works till dark and den
+come home and work round de quarters.</p>
+
+<p>"Dem quarters was 'bout ten by fifteen feet, each one, with a hole for
+de window dat am not dere and de floor am de ground, and de straw bunks for to
+sleep on. In us cabin am mammy and us three chillen and our aunt. My pappy done
+die befo' I 'member him. Some kind stomach mis'ry kilt him.</p>
+
+<p>"One day Massa Chapman call all us to de front gallery. Us didn't know
+what gwine to happen, 'cause it not ord'nary to git called from de work. Him ring
+de bell and dat am sho' 'nough de liberty bell, 'cause him read from de long
+paper and say, 'You is slaves no more. You is free, jus' like I is, and have
+to 'pend on yourselves for de livin'. All what wants to stay I'll pay money
+to work, and a share of de crop, iffen you don't want money.' Mostest of dem
+stays, and some what goes gits into troublement, 'cause den dere's trouble 'twixt
+de white folks and de cullud folks. Some de niggers thinks they am bigger dan
+de white folks, 'cause dey free, and de Klu Klux, what us call white caps, puts
+dem in de place dey 'longs.</p>
+
+<p>"I gits chased by dem white caps once, jus' befo' us leave massa. Dat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>
+am when I's 'bout thirteen year old. I's 'bout a mile off de place without
+de pass and it am de rule them days, all cullud folks must have de pass to show
+where dey 'longs and where dey gwine. I has no business to be off de place without
+de pass. 'Twas a gal.. Sho', day am it. Us walks down de road 'bout a
+mile and am settin' 'hind some bushes, off de plantation. Us see dem white
+caps comin' down de road on hossback and us ain't much scart, 'cause us think
+dey can't see us 'hind dem bushes. But dat leader say, 'Whoa,' and dey could
+look down on us, 'cause dey on hossback. Well, gosh for 'mighty! Dere us am
+and can't move den us so scart. One dem white caps says, 'What you doin',
+nigger?' 'Jus' settin' here,' I telt him. 'Yous better start runnin', 'cause
+us gwine try cotch you,' dey says.</p>
+
+<p>"Us two niggers am down dat road befo' dem words am outten he mouth.
+Dey lets de hosses canter 'hind we'uns and us try to run faster. Fin'ly us gits
+home and dat de last time I goes off without de pass.</p>
+
+<p>"Mammy moves to Baton Rouge soon after dat and works as de housemaid.
+Us stay dere two year and I gits some little jobs and den I goes to work for
+de railroad in Sedalia, up in Missouri, and dere I works as section hand for
+de Katy railroad for twenty year. Den I gits through and comes to Texas.</p>
+
+<p>"I works at anything till eight year ago and den I's no count for
+work so I's livin' on de pension, what am $15.00 de month.</p>
+
+<p>"I's never married. I jus' couldn't make de hitch. Dem what I wants,
+don't want me. Dem what wants me, I don't want, so dere am never no agreement.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I's never voted, 'cause I done heared 'bout de trouble dey has over
+in Baton Rouge 'bout niggers <a name='TC_32'></a><ins title="botin'">votin'</ins>. I jus' don't like trouble, and for de few
+years what am left, I's gwine keep de record of stayin' 'way from it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420190" id="n420190"></a>420190</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>THOMAS JOHNS, 508 Knopp St., Cleburne,
+Texas, was born April 18, 1847, in
+Chambers Co., Alabama. He belonged to
+Col. Robert Johns, who had come to Alabama
+from Virginia. After Johns was
+freed he stayed with his old owner's
+family until 1874, when he moved to
+Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My father's name was George and my mother's name was Nellie.
+My father was born in Africa. Him and two of his brothers and one sister
+was stole and brought to Savannah, Georgia, and sold. Dey was de chillen
+of a chief of de Kiochi tribe. De way dey was stole, dey was asked to a
+dance on a ship which some white man had, and my aunt said it was early
+in de mornin' when dey foun' dey was away from de land, and all dey could
+see was de water all 'round. She said they was members of de file-tooth
+tribe of niggers. My father's teeth was so dat only de front ones met together
+when he closed his mouth. De back ones didn' set together. W'en his
+front teeth was together, de back ones was apart, sorta like a V on its side.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother was born a slave in Virginia. She married there and had
+a little girl, and they was sold away from the husband and brought to Alabama.
+She said her mother was part Indian and part nigger. Her father was
+part white and part nigger, but he look about as white as a white man.</p>
+
+<p>"My brother's names was John, Jake and Dave. My sister's names
+was Ann, Katie, Judie and Easter.</p>
+
+<p>"I belonged to Col. Robert Johns. He owned 30 or 35 slaves. We
+was well treated and had the same food the white folks did, and didn' none<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>
+of us go hongry. Col. Johns didn' have his niggers whipped, neither.</p>
+
+<p>"Marster's place had 500 acres in it. We raised cotton, corn and
+rice, vegetables and every sort of fruit that would grow there, a lot of
+it growin' wild. We et mostly hog meat, but we had some beef and mutton,
+too. When we'd kill a beef, we'd send some to all the neighbors.</p>
+
+<p>"We done a good day's work, but didn' have to work after night 'less
+it was necessary. We was allowed to stop at 12 o'clock and have time for
+rest 'fore goin' back to work. Other slave owners roun' our place wasn't
+as good to dere slaves, would work 'em hard and half starve 'em. And some
+marsters or overseers would whip dere niggers pretty hard, sometimes whip
+'em to death. Marster Johns didn' have no overseer. He seed to the work
+and my father was foreman. For awhile after old Marster died, in 1862 or
+1863, I forget which now, we had a overseer, John Sewell. He was mean. He
+whipped the chillen and my mother told Miss Lucy, old marster's oldest girl.</p>
+
+<p>"We was allus well treated by old marster. We was called, 'John's
+free niggers,' not dat we was free, but 'cause we was well treated. Jesse
+Todd, his place joined ours, had 500 slaves, and he treated 'em mighty bad.
+He whipped some of 'em to death. A man sold him two big niggers which was
+brothers and they was so near white you couldn' hardly tell 'em from a white
+man. Some people thought the man what sold 'em was their daddy. The two
+niggers worked good and dey hadn' never been whipped and dey wouldn' stand
+for bein' whipped. One mornin' Todd come up to 'em and told de oldest to
+take his shirt off. He say, 'Marster, what you wan' me to take my shirt
+off for?' Todd say, 'I told you to take your shirt off.' De nigger say,
+'Marster, I ain' never took my shirt off for no man.' Todd run in de house
+and got his gun and come back and shot de nigger dead. His brother fell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>
+down by him where he lay on de groun'. Todd run back to load his gun again,
+it bein' a single shot. Todd's wife and son grabbed him and dey had all dey
+coul' do to keep him from comin' out and killin' de other nigger.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse Johns had 12 chillen. De house dey lived in was Colonyal style
+and had 12 rooms. I was bo'n in dat house.</p>
+
+<p>"De slaves had log cabins. We wore some cotton clothes in de summer
+but in de winter we wore wool clothes. We allus had shoes. A shoemaker would
+come 'round once a year and stay maybe 30 days, makin' shoes for everybody on
+de place; den in about 6 months he would come back and half-sole and make
+other repairs to de shoes. We made all our clothes on de place. We wove
+light wool cloth for summer and heavy for winter.</p>
+
+<p>"I could take raw cotton and card and spin it on a spinnin' wheel into
+thread, fine enough to be sewed with a needle. We woun' de thread on a broche,
+make like and 'bout de size of a ice pick. De thread was den woun' on a reel
+'bout de size of a forewheel of a wagon, and de reel would turn 48 times and
+den 'cluck'. Dat was for dem to be able to tell we was workin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere was plenty wild game, possums, rabbits, turkey and so on. Dere
+was fish, too, in de creek. I was de leader of de bunch. We would ketch little
+fish in de creek. We'd cook a lot of fish and den we'd put a rag rug in de
+yard under a big mulberry tree and pour de fish out on dat and den eat 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"Old marster never beat his slaves and he didn' sell 'em. But some of
+de owners did. If a owner had a big woman slave and she had a little man for
+her husban' and de owner had a big man slave, dey would make de little husban'
+leave, and make de woman let de big man be her husban', so's dere be big chillen,
+which dey could sell well. If de man and woman refused, dey'd get whipped.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Course whippin' made a slave hard to sell, maybe couldn' be sold,
+'cause when a man went to buy a slave he would make him strip naked and look
+him over for whip marks and other blemish, jus' like dey would a horse. But
+even if it done damage to de sale to whip him, dey done it, 'cause dey figgered,
+kill a nigger, breed another&mdash;kill a mule, buy another.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll never forget de rice patch. It shore got me some whippin's, 'cause
+my daddy tell me to watch de birds 'way from dat rice, and sometimes dey'd get to
+it. It jus' seem like de blackbirds jus' set 'round and watched for dat rice to
+grow up where dey could get it. We would cut a block off a pine tree and build
+a fire on it and burn it out. Den we would cut down into it and scrape out all
+de char, and den put de rice in dere and beat and poun' it with a pestle till
+we had all de grain beat out de heads. Den we'd pour de rice out on a cloth
+and de chaff and trash would blow away.</p>
+
+<p>"Our marster he drilled men for de army. De drill groun' was 'bout a mile
+from our place. He was a dead shot with a rifle and had a rifle with an extry
+long barrel.</p>
+
+<p>"De Yankees told us niggers when dey freed us after de war dat dey would
+give each one of us 40 acres of land and a mule. De nearest I'se ever come to
+dat is de pension of 'leven dollars I gets now. But I'se jus' as thankful for
+dat as I can be. In fac', I don't see how I could be any more thankful it 'twas
+a hun'erd and 'leven dollars.</p>
+
+<p>"A man told me a nigger woman told his wife she would ruther be slave
+than free. Well, I think, but I might be wrong, anybody which says that is tellin
+a lie. Dere is sumpin' 'bout bein' free and dat makes up for all de hardships.
+I'se been both slave and free and I knows. Course, while I was slave I didn' have
+no 'sponsibility, didn' have to worry 'bout where sumpin' to eat and wear and a
+place to sleep was comin' from, but dat don't make up for bein' free.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420191" id="n420191"></a>420191</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>AUNTIE THOMAS JOHNS, 508 Knopp
+St., Cleburne, Texas, was born
+in Burleson Co., Texas, in 1864.
+She was only two when her mother
+was freed, so knows nothing of
+slavery except stories her mother
+told her, or that she heard her
+husband, Thomas Johns, tell.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was two years old when my mama was set free. Her
+owner was Major Odom. He was good to his niggers, my mama
+said. She tol' me 'bout slavery times. She said other white
+folks roun' there called Major Odom's niggers, 'Odom's damn
+free niggers,' 'cause he was so easy on 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"He was never married, but he had a nigger woman, Aunt
+Phyllis she was called, that he had some children by. She was
+half white. I remember her and him and five of their sons.
+The ones I knowed was nearly all white, but Aunt Phyllis had
+one boy that was nigger black. His daddy was a nigger man.
+When she was drunk or mad she'd say she thought more of her
+black chile than all the others. Major Odom treated their
+children jus' like he treated the other niggers. He never
+whipped none of his niggers. When his and Aunt Phyllis'es
+sons was grown they went to live in the quarters, which was
+what the place the niggers lived was called.</p>
+
+<p>"One of Major Odom's niggers was whipped by a man named
+Steve Owens. He got to goin' to see a nigger woman Owens owned,
+and one night they beat him up bad. Major Odom put on his gun
+for Owens, and they carried guns for each other till they died,
+but they never did have a shootin'.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Sims had a farm joinin' Major Odom's farm, and his
+niggers was treated mean. He had a overseer, J.B. Mullinax, I 'member
+him, and he was big and tough. He whipped a nigger man to death.
+He would come out of a mornin' and give a long, keen yell, and say,
+'I'm J.B. Mullinax, just back from a week in Hell, where I got two
+new eyes, one named Snap and Jack, and t'other Take Hold. I'm goin'
+to whip two or three niggers to death today.' He lived a long time,
+but long 'fore he died his eyes turned backward in his head. I seen
+'em thataway. He wouldn' give his niggers much to eat and he'd make
+'em work all day, and just give 'em boiled peas with just water and
+no salt and cornbread. They'd eat their lunch right out in the hot sun
+and then go right back to work. Mama said she could hear them niggers
+bein' whipped at night and yellin', 'Pray, marster, pray,' beggin' him
+not to beat 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"Other niggers would run away and come to Major Odom's place and
+ask his niggers for sumpin' to eat. My mama would get word to bring 'em
+food and she'd start out to where they was hidin' and she'd hear the
+hounds, and the runaway niggers would have to go on without gettin'
+nothin' to eat.</p>
+
+<p>"My husban's tol' me about slavery times in Alabama. He said they
+would make the niggers work hard all day pickin' cotton and then take it
+to the gin and gin away into the night, maybe all night. They'd give a
+nigger on Sunday a peck of meal and three pounds of meat and no salt nor
+nothin' else, and if you et that up 'fore the week was out, you jus' done
+without anything to eat till the end of the week.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My husban' said a family named Gullendin was mighty hard
+on their niggers. He said ole Missus Gullendin, she'd take a needle and
+stick it through one of the nigger women's lower lips and pin it to the
+bosom of her dress, and the woman would go 'round all day with her head
+drew down thataway and slobberin'. There was knots on the nigger's lip
+where the needle had been stuck in it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420911" id="n420911"></a>420911</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 207px;"><a href="images/162208v.png">
+<img src="images/162208r.png" width="207" height="300" alt="Gus Johnson" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Gus Johnson</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>GUS JOHNSON, 90 years or more,
+was born a slave of Mrs. Betty
+Glover, in Marengo Co., Alabama.
+Most of his memories are of his
+later boyhood in Sunnyside, Texas.
+He lives in an unkempt, little
+lean-to house, in the north end of
+Beaumont, Texas. There is no furniture
+but a broken-down bed and an
+equally dilapidated trunk and stove.
+Gus spends most of his time in the
+yard, working in his vegetable garden.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Dey brung thirty-six of us here in a box car from Alabama.
+Yes, suh, dat's where I come from&mdash;Marengo County, not so far from
+'Mopolis. Us belong to old missy Betty Glover and my daddy name August
+Glover and my mammy Lucinda. Old missy, she sho' treat us good and I
+never git whip for anything 'cept lyin'. Old missy, she do de whippin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Old missy she sho' a good woman and all her white folks, dey
+used to go to church at White Chapel at 'leven in de mornin'. Us cullud
+folks goes in de evenin'. Us never do no work on Sunday, and on Saturday
+after twelve o'clock us can go fishin' or huntin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey give de rations on Saturday and dat's 'bout five pound salt
+bacon and a peck of meal and some sorghum syrup. Dey make dat syrup on
+de plantation. Dey's ten or twelve big clay kettles in a row, sot in de
+furnace.</p>
+
+<p>"We have lots to eat, and if de rations run short we goes huntin'
+or fishin'. Some de old men kills rattlesnake and cook 'em like fish and
+say dey fish. I eat dat many a time and never knowed it. 'Twas good, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey used to have a big house where dey kep' de chillen, 'cause
+de wolves and panthers was bad. Some de mammies what suckle de chillen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
+takes care of all de chillen durin' de daytime and at night dey own mammies
+come in from de field and take dem. Sometime old missy she help nuss and
+all de li'l niggers well care for. When dey gits sick dey makes de med'cine
+of herbs and well 'em dat way.</p>
+
+<p>"When us left Alabama us come through Meridian to Houston and den
+to Hockley and den to Sunnyside, 'bout 18 mile west of Houston. Dat a
+country with lots of woods and us sot in to clean up de ground and clean
+up 150 acres to farm on. Dere 'bout forty-seven hands and more 'cumulates.
+Dey go back to Meridian for more and brung 'em in a ox cart.</p>
+
+<p>"My brother, Bonzane Johnson, was one dey brung on dat trip.
+I had 'nother brother, Keen, what die when he 102 year old. Us was all
+long-life people, 'cause I have a gran' uncle what die when he 136 year old.
+He and my grandma and grandpa come from South Carolina and dey was all
+Africa people. I heered dem tell how dey brung from Africa in de ship.
+My daddy he die at 99 and 'nother brother at 104.</p>
+
+<p>"Us see lots of sojers when us come through from Meridian and
+dey de cavalry. Dey come ridin' up with high hats like beavers on dey head
+and us 'fraid of 'em, 'cause dey told us dey gwine take us to Cuba and sell
+us dere.</p>
+
+<p>"When us first git to Texas it was cold&mdash;not sort a cold, but
+I mean cold. I shovel de snow many a day. Dey have de big, common house
+and de white folks live upstairs and de niggers sleep on de first floor.
+Dat to 'tect de white folks at night, but us have our own houses for to
+live in in de daytime, builded out of logs and daubed with mud and nail<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>
+rive out boards over dat mud. Dey make de chimney out of sticks and mud,
+too but us have no windows, and in summer us kind of live out in de bresh
+arbor, what was cool.</p>
+
+<p>"Us have all kind of crops and more'n 100 acres in fruit, 'cause
+dey brung all kind trees and seeds from Alabama. Dey was undergroun'
+springs and de water was sho' good to drink, 'cause in Mobile de water
+wasn't fitten to drink. It taste like it have de lump of salt melted in
+it. Us keep de butter and milk in de spring house in dem days, 'cause
+us ain't have no ice in dem time.</p>
+
+<p>"Old massa, he name Adam and he brother name John, and dey
+was way up yonder tall people. Old massa die soon and us have missy
+to say what we do. All her overseers have to be good. She punish de
+slaves iffen day bad, but not whip 'em. She have de jail builded undergroun'
+like de stormcave and it have a drop door with de weight on it, so
+dey couldn't git up from de bottom. It sho' was dark in dat place.</p>
+
+<p>"In slavery time us better be in by eight o'clock, better be
+in dat house, better stick to dat rule. I 'member after freedom, missy
+have de big celebration on Juneteenth every year. <i>[Handwritten Note: '?']</i></p>
+
+<p>"When war come to Texas every plantation was conscrip' for
+de war and my daddy was 'pinted to selec' de able body men offen us
+place for to be sojers. My brother Keen was one of dem. He come back
+all right, though.</p>
+
+<p>"When freedom come missy give all de men niggers $500 each,
+but dat 'federate money and have pictures of hosses on it. Dat de onlies'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>
+money missy have den. Old missy Betty, she die in Sunnyside, Texas,
+when she 115 year old.</p>
+
+<p>"When I's 18 year old I marry a gal by name Lucy Johnson. She
+dead now long ago. I got five livin' chillen somewhere, but I done lost
+track of 'em. One of dem boys serve in de last war.</p>
+
+<p>"I used to hear somethin' 'bout rabbit foot. De old folks used to
+say dat iffen de rabbit have time to stop and lick he foot de dog can't
+track him no more and I allus wears de rabbit foot for good luck. I don't
+know if it brung me dat luck, though.</p>
+
+<p>"I been here 36 year and I work mos' de time as house mover, what
+I work at 26 year. I'll be honnes' with you, I don't know how old I is,
+but it mus' be plenty, 'cause I 'members lots 'bout de war. I didn't see
+no fightin' but I knowed what was goin' on den.</p>
+
+<p>"I belong to de U. B. F. Lodge, what I pays into in case I gits
+sick. But I never can git sick and I ain't have no ailment 'cept my feets
+jus' swoll up, and I can't git nothin' for that.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420139" id="n420139"></a>420139</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>HARRY JOHNSON, 86, whose real
+name was Jim, was born in Missouri,
+where he was stolen by
+Harry Fugot, when about twelve
+years old, and taken to Arkansas.
+He was given the name of Harry
+and remained with Fugot until
+near the close of the Civil War.
+Fugot then sold him to Graham
+for 1,200 acres and he was
+brought to Coryell Co., Texas,
+and later to Caldwell Co. He
+worked in Texas two years before
+finding out the slaves were
+free. He later went to McMullen
+Co. to work cattle, but eventually
+spent most of his time rearing ten
+white children. He now lives in
+Pearsall, where he married at the
+age of 59.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I come from Missouri to Arkansas and then to Texas, and I was
+owned by Massa Louis Barker and my name was Jim Johnson. But a white
+man name Harry Fugot stoled me and run me out to Arkansas and changed
+my name to Harry. He stoled me from Mississippi County in de southern
+part of Missouri, down close to de Arkansas line, and I was 'bout 12 year
+old then.</p>
+
+<p>"My mama's name was Judie and her husban' name Miller. When I
+wasn't big 'nough to pack a chip, old Massa Louis Barker wouldn't take
+$400 for me, 'cause he say he wants to make a overseer out of me.
+My daddy went off durin' de war. He carried off by sojers and he never
+did come back.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey 'bout 30, 40 acres in Massa Barker's plantation in Missouri.
+He used to hire me out from place to place and de men what hires me puts
+me to doin' what he wanted. I was stole from my mammy when I's 'bout 10
+or 12 and she never did know what become of me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O, my stars! I seed hun'erds and hun'erds of sojers 'fore I stole
+from Missouri. Dey what us call Yankees. I seed 'em strung out a half-mile
+long, goin' battle two and three deep. Dey never did destroy any
+homes. Dey took up a little stuff. I had five sacks of meal one day and
+was goin' to de mill and de sojers come along and taken me, meal and all.
+De maddes' woman I ever saw was dat day. De sojers come and druv off her
+cows. She told 'em not to, dat her husban' fightin' and she have to make
+de livin' off dem cows, but dey druv de cows to camp and kilt 'bout three
+of 'em. Dey done dat, I knows, 'cause I's with 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"But down in Arkansas I seed de southern sojers and I's plowin'
+for a old lady call Williams, and some sojers come and goes in de house.
+I heered say dey was Green's men, and dey taken everything dat old woman
+have what dey wants, and dey robs lots of houses.</p>
+
+<p>"It don't look reas'able to say it, but it's a fac'&mdash;durin' slavery
+iffen you lived one place and your mammy lived 'cross de street you couldn't
+go to see her without a pass. De paddlerollers would whip you if you did.
+Dere was one woman owns some slaves and one of 'em asks her for a pass and
+she give him de piece of paper sposed to be de pass, but she writes on it:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'His shirt am rough and his back am tough,<br />
+Do, pray, Mr. Paddleroller, give 'im 'nough.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"De paddlerollers beat him nearly to death, 'cause that's what's
+wrote on de paper he give 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'member a whippin' one slave got. It were 100 lashes. Dey's a
+big overseer right here on de San Marcos river, Clem Polk, him and he massa
+kilt 16 niggers in one day. Dat massa couldn't keep a overseer, 'cause de
+niggers wouldn't let 'em whip 'em, and dis Clem, he say, 'I'll stay dere,'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
+and he finds he couldn't whip dem niggers either, so he jus' kilt 'em.
+One nigger nearly got him and would have kilt him. Dat nigger raise de
+ax to come down on Polk's head and de massa stopped him jus' in time, and
+den Polk shoots dat nigger in de breast with a shotgun.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey had court days and when court met, dey passed a bill what
+say, 'Keep de niggers at home.' Some of 'em could go to church and some
+of 'em couldn't. Dey'd let de cullud people be baptized, but dey didn't
+many want it, dey didn't understan' it 'nough.</p>
+
+<p>"After de war ends, Massa Fugot sells me to Massa Graham for
+1,200 acres of land, and I lives in Caldwell County. He was purty good
+to he slaves and we live in a li'l old frame house, facin' west. I sleeps
+in de same house as massa and missus, to guard 'em. One night some men
+came and wake me up and tells me to put my clothes on. Missus was in de
+bed and she 'gin cryin' and tell 'em not to take me, but dey taken me anyway.
+We called 'em Guerrillas and dey thieves. Dey white men and one
+of 'em I had knowed a long time. I's with dem thives and hears 'em talk
+'bout killin' Yankees. Dey kep' me in de south part of Missouri a long
+time. I didn't do anything but sit 'round de house with dem.</p>
+
+<p>"When I's sold to Massa Graham I didn't have to come to Texas,
+'cause I's free, but I didn't know dat, and I's out here two years 'fore
+I knowed I's free. Down in Caldwell County is where de bondage was lifted
+offen me and I found out I's free. I jus' stays on and works and my massa
+give me he promise I's git a hoss and saddle and $100 in money when I's
+21 year old, but he didn't do it. He give me a li'l pony and a saddle what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
+I sold for $3.00 and 'bout eight or nine dollars in money. He had me
+blindfolded and I thought I gwine git a good hoss and saddle and more
+money.</p>
+
+<p>"I looks back sometimes and thinks times was better for eatin'
+in slavery dan what dey is now. My mammy was a reg'lar cook and she
+made me peach cobblers and apple dumplin's. In dem days, we'd take
+cornmeal and mix it with water and call 'em corn dodgers and dey awful
+nice with plenty butter. We had lots of hawg meat and when dey kilt
+a beef a man told all de neighbors to come git some of de meat.</p>
+
+<p>"Right after de war, times is pretty hard and I's taken beans
+and parched 'em and got 'em right brown, and meal bran to make coffee
+out of. Times was purty hard, but I allus could find somethin' to work
+at in dem days.</p>
+
+<p>"I lived all my life 'mong white folks and jus' worked in
+first one place and then 'nother. I raised ten white chillen, nine of
+de Lowe chillen, and dey'd mind me quicker dan dey own pappy and mammy.
+Dat in McMullin County.</p>
+
+<p>"De day I's married I's 59 year old and my wife is 'bout
+60 year old now. De last 20 years I's jus' piddled 'round and done
+no reg'lar work. I married right here in de church house. I nussed
+my wife when she a baby and used to court her mammy when she's a girl.
+We's been real happy together.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420928" id="n420928"></a>420928</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 191px;"><a href="images/162216v.png">
+<img src="images/162216r.png" width="191" height="300" alt="James D. Johnson" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">James D. Johnson</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>JAMES D. JOHNSON, born Oct.
+1st, 1860, at Lexington,
+Mississippi, was a slave of
+Judge Drennon. He now lives
+with his daughter at 4527
+Baltimore St., Dallas, Texas.
+His memory is poor and his
+conversation is vague and
+wandering. His daughter says,
+"He ain't at himself these days."
+James attended Tuckaloo University,
+near Jackson, Mississippi,
+and uses very little dialect.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My first clear recollection is about a day when I was five years
+old. I was playing in the sand by the side of the house in Lexington with
+some other children and some Yankee soldiers came by. They came on horseback
+and they drew rein by the side of the house and I ran under the house
+and hid. My mother called to me to come out and told me they were Federal
+soldiers and I could tell it by their blue uniforms. One of the soldiers
+reached into his haversack and pulled out a uniform and gave it to me.
+'Have your mammy make a suit out of it,' he said. Another soldier gave me
+a uniform and my mother was a seamstress in the home of the Drennons and she
+made me two suits out of those uniforms.</p>
+
+<p>"Judge Drennon had married the daughter of Colonel Terry and he
+had given my parents to his daughter when she married the judge. My father
+and mother both came from Virginia. Colonel Terry had bought them at separate
+times from a slave trader who brought them from Virginia to Mississippi.
+They had a likeness for each other when they learned both came from Virginia.
+Both of them had white fathers, were light complected and had been brought up
+in the big house.</p>
+
+<p>"When they told the Colonel they wished to marry he only said,
+'Julia, do you take William,' and 'William, do you take Julia?' Then they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>
+were man and wife. He gave them the name of Johnson, which was the family name
+of my father's mother and the name of his father.</p>
+
+<p>"When my parents lived with Judge Drennon they had a house in the
+yard quarters. The Drennon home was the most beautiful house I ever have seen.
+It was a big, brick mansion with tall, white pillars reaching up to the second
+story. The yards and grounds were so beautiful the white folks used to come
+from long ways off to see them.</p>
+
+<p>"After the surrendering we lived with the Drennons four or five years.
+They paid my parents for their work and I had an easy time of it. I was youngest
+of eight children and there was ten years or more between me and the next older
+child. My mother wanted to make something special out of me.</p>
+
+<p>"I went to three different schools down in the woods before I was nine.
+White people would come and put up schools for the colored children but the white
+people in Mississippi said they were not good people and would criticize them.
+Sometimes the schools would get busted up. We studied out of the Blue Back speller
+and an arithmetic and a dictionary. I could spell and give the meaning of
+most nigh every word in that dictionary.</p>
+
+<p>"When I was thirteen they held an examination at Lexington for colored
+children to see who'd get a scholarship at Tuckaloo University, eight miles from
+Jackson. I was greatly surprised when I won from my county and I went but didn't
+finish there. Then I went a little while to a small university near Lexington,
+called Allcorn University. I loved to go to school and was considered bookish.
+But my people died and I had to earn a living for myself and I couldn't find any
+way to use so much what I learned out of books, as far as making money was concerned.
+So I came to Texas, doing any kind of labor work I could find. Finally
+I married and went to farming 35 or 40 years and raised five children.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm the only one left now of my brothers and sisters and it
+won't be long until I'm gone, too, but I don't mind that. We lived a long
+time. Some of it was hard and some of it was good. I tried all the time
+to live according to my lights and that is as far as I know how to do.
+I don't feel resentful of anything, anymore.</p>
+
+<p>"When there is sun, I just sit in the sun."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420132" id="n420132"></a>420132</div>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MARY JOHNSON does not know
+her age but is evidently
+very old. Paralytic strokes
+have affected mind and body.
+Her speech, though impaired,
+is a swift flow of words, often
+profane. A bitter attitude
+toward everything is apparent.
+Mary is homeless and owes the
+necessities of life to the kindness
+of a middle aged Negress
+who takes care of several old
+women in her home in Pear Orchard,
+in Beaumont, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Now, wait, white folks, I got to scratch my head so's I kin
+'member. I's been paralyze so I can't git my tongue to speak good.
+It git all twist up.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how old I is. My daddy he have my age in the
+big Bible but he done move 'round so much it git lost long ago. He used
+to 'long to them Guinea men. Them was real small men and they sho' walk
+fast. He wasn't so tall as my mommer and he name John Allen and he a
+pore man, all bone. He sold out from the old country, that Mississippi.
+My mama name Sarah and she come from Choctaw country, 'round in Georgia.
+I have grandma Rebecca, a reg'lar old Indian woman and she have two long
+black braid longer'n her waist and she allus wore a big bonnet with splits
+in it. You know de Indian people totes they chillens on they back and my
+mommer have me wrop up in a blanket and strop on her back.</p>
+
+<p>"I's the firstborn chile and my mommer have two gal chillen,
+me and Hannah, and she have seven boy. Where I's born was old wild country
+and old Virginny run down thataway. Everything was plenty good to eat
+and I seed strawberries what would push you to git 'em in your mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Clost to where I's born they's a place where they brung the Africy
+people to tame 'em and they have big pens where they puts 'em after they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>
+takes 'em outta they gun ships. They sho' was wild and they have hair all
+over jus' like a dog and big hammer rings in they noses. They didn't wore
+no clothes and sometime they git 'way and run to them swamps in Floridy and
+git all wild and hairy 'gain. They brung preachers to help tame 'em, but
+didn't 'low no preacher in them pens by hisself, 'cause they say them preacher
+won't come back, 'cause some them wild Africy people done kill 'em and eat
+'em. They done worship them snake bit as a rake handle, 'cause they ain't
+knowed no better. When they gits 'em all tame they sells 'em for field hands,
+but they allus wild and iffen anybody come they duck and hide down.</p>
+
+<p>"My old missy she name Florence Walker and she reg'lar tough. I
+helps nuss her chile, Mary, and Mary make her mommer be good to me. Us
+wore li'l brass toe shoes and I call mine gold toe shoes. Them shoes hard
+'nough to knock a mule out. After young missy and me git growed us run
+off to dances and old missy beat us behind good. She say us jes' chillen
+yet and keep us in short, short dress and we pull out the stitchin' in them
+hems so us dresses drags and she sho' wore us out for that.</p>
+
+<p>"Did us love to dance? Jesus help me! Them country niggers
+swing me so hard us land in the corner with a wham.</p>
+
+<p>"My brudder Robert he a pow'ful big boy and he wasn't 'lowed to
+have no pants till he 21 year old, but that didn't 'scourage him from courtin'
+the gals. I try tease him 'bout go see the gals with dat split shirt. That
+not all, that boy nuss he mommer breast till he 21 year old. He have to have
+that nussin' real reg'lar. But one time he pesterin' mommer and she tryin'
+milk the cow and the cow git nervous and kick over the bucket and mommer
+fall off the stool and she so mad she wean him right there and then.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Old massa he never clean hisself up or dress up. He look like
+a vagrant thing and <a name='TC_33'></a><ins title="be">he</ins> and missy mean, too. My pore daddy he back allus
+done cut up from the whip and bit by the dogs. Sometime when a woman big
+they make a hollow out place for her stomach and make her lay down 'cross
+that hole and whip her behind. They sho' tear that thing up.</p>
+
+<p>"Us chillen git to play and us sing</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Old possum in the holler log<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing high de loo,</span><br />
+Fatter than a old green frog,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing high de loo,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whar possum?</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"That church they have a 'markable thing. They a deep tranch what
+cut all 'round the bottom and clay steps what lead all the way to the top the
+mountain and when the niggers git to shoutin' that church jes' a-rollin' and
+rockin'. One the songs I 'member was</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Shoo the devil out the corner,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shoo, members, shoo,</span><br />
+Shoo the devil out the corner,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shoo, members, shoo.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Us li'l gals allus wore cottanade dresses ev'ry day. Them what us
+call nine-stitch dresses. Mammy make fasten-back dresses and fasten-back
+drawers and knit sweaters and socks for the mens. She git sheep wool what
+near ruint by cockle burrs and make us chillen set by the hour and pick out
+them burrs.</p>
+
+<p>"Us houses like chicken coops but us sho' happy in that li'l cabin
+house. Nothin' to worry 'bout. Mammy cook them grits, that yaller hominy.
+She make 'ash cat', cornbread wrop in cabbage leaf and put ashes 'round it.</p>
+
+<p>"The old plantation 'bout on the line 'tween Virginny and Mis'sippi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>
+and us live near the Madstone. That a big stone, all smooth and when a dog
+bite you you go run 'round the Madstone and wash yourself in the hot springs
+and the bites don't hurt you.</p>
+
+<p>"I seed lots of sojers and my daddy fit with the Yankees and they have
+a big fight close there and have a while lots of dead bodies layin' 'round like
+so many logs and they jus' stack 'em up and sot fire to 'em. You seed 'em
+burnin' night and day. They lay down and shoot and then jump up and stick 'em
+and sometimes they drunk the blood outten where they stick 'em, 'cause they
+can't git no water.</p>
+
+<p>"After freedom us go in ox team to New Orleans and daddy he raise
+cotton and sell it and mommer sell eggs. My daddy a workin' man and he help
+build the big custom house in New Orleans and help pull the rope to pull the
+boats up the canal from the river. That Canal Street now. He put he name
+on top that custom house and it there to this day. You can go there and see
+it. He help build the hosp'tal, too.</p>
+
+<p>"One time us live close to the bay and that gran' and us take a stove
+and cotch catfish and perch and cook 'em on the bank and us go meet oyster
+boats and daddy git 'em by the tub.</p>
+
+<p>"I git marry in Baton Rouge when I sixteen and my husban' he name
+Arras Shaw and he lots older'n me and I couldn't keep him. He in Port Arthur
+now. My husban' and I sawmill 20 year in Grayburg, here in Texas, and then
+us sep'rate. I been in Beaumont 16 year and I's rice farm cook in the camp
+on the Fannett Road. They tells me I got uncles in Africy. I goes to Sanctified
+church and that all I can do now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420050" id="n420050"></a>420050</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 177px;"><a href="images/162223v.png">
+<img src="images/162223r.png" width="177" height="300" alt="Mary Ellen Johnson" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Mary Ellen Johnson</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MARY ELLEN JOHNSON, owner of a
+little restaurant at 1301 Marilla
+St., Dallas, Texas, is 77
+years old. She was born in slavery
+to the Murth family, about
+ten miles from San Marcos, Texas.
+She neither reads nor writes but
+talks with little dialect.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I don't know so fur back as befo' I was born, 'cept what my
+mammy told me, and she allus said little black chillen wasn't sposed
+to ask so many questions. Her name was Missouri Ellison, 'cause she
+belonged to Miss Micelder Ellison and then when she married with Mr.
+Murth, her daddy said my mammy was her 'heritance.</p>
+
+<p>"My first mem'ries are us playin' in the backyard with Miss
+Fannie and Miss Martha and Mr. Sammie. They was the little Murth chillen.
+We used to make playhouses out there and sweep the ground clean down to
+the level with brush brooms and dec'rate it all up with little broken
+glasses and crockery.</p>
+
+<p>"In them days we lived in a little, old log cabin in the backyard
+and there was just one room, but it was snug and we had a plenty of
+livin'. My mammy had a nice cotton bed and she weren't no field nigger,
+but my pappy were.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Micelder had a fine farm and raised most everything we ate
+and the food nowadays ain't like what it was then. Miss Micelder had a
+wood frame house with a big kitchen and they were cookin' goin' on all
+the time. They cooked on a wood stove with iron pots and skillets, and
+the roastin' ears and chicken fried right out of your own yard is tastier
+than what you git now. Grated 'tater puddin' was my dish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"When I am seven years old I hear talk 'bout a war and the separation
+but I don't pay much 'tention. It seem far away and I don't bother
+my kinky head 'bout it. But then they tells eme [typo: me] the war is over and I'm
+goin' to be raised free and that I don't 'long to anybody but Gawd and my
+pappy and mammy, but it don't make me feel nothin', 'cause I ain't never
+know I ain't free.</p>
+
+<p>"After the war we removed to a house on a hill where they is
+five houses, little log houses all in a row. We had good times, but we had
+to work in the cotton and corn and wheat in the daylight time, but when the
+dusk come we used to sing and dance and play into the moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>"But one man called Milton, he's past his yearling boy days and he
+didn't like to see us spend our time in sin, so he'd preach to us from the
+Gospel, but I had the hardest time to get 'ligion of anybody I knowed. Fin'ly
+I got sick when I were fifteen and was in my bed and somethin' happened. Lawd,
+it was the most 'lievable thing ever happened to me. I was layin' there when
+sin formed a heavy, white veil just like a blanket over my bed and it just eased
+down over me till it was mashing the breath out of me. I crys out to the Lawd
+to save me and, sho' 'nough, He hear the cry of a pore mis'able sinner. I ran
+to my mammy and pappy a-shoutin'.</p>
+
+<p>"The next year I marries and went on 'nother farm right near by and
+starts havin' chillen. I has ten and think I done rightly my part, 'cause I
+lived right by the word and taught my chillen the same. I'm lookin' to the
+promise to live in Glory after my days here is done.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420115" id="n420115"></a>420115</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 204px;"><a href="images/162225v.png">
+<img src="images/162225r.png" width="204" height="300" alt="Pauline Johnson and Felice Boudreaux" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Pauline Johnson and Felice Boudreaux</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>PAULINE JOHNSON and FELICE
+BOUDREAUX, sisters, were once
+slaves on the plantation of
+Dermat Martine, near Opelousas,
+Louisiana. As their owners
+were French, they are more inclined
+to use a Creole patois
+than English.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"Us was both slaves on de old plantation close to Opelousas,"
+Pauline began. As the elder of the two sisters she carried most of the
+conversation, although often referring to Felice before making positive
+statements.</p>
+
+<p>"I was 12 year old when freedom come and Felice was 'bout six.
+Us belonged to Massa Dermat Martine and the missy's name Mimi. They raise
+us both in the house and they love us so they spoil us. I never will forget
+that. The little white chillen was younger than me, 'bout Felice's
+age. They sho' had pretty li'l curly black hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Us didn't have hard time. Never even knowed hard time. That old
+massa, he what you call a good man.</p>
+
+<p>"Us daddy was Renee and he work in the field. The old massa give
+him a mud and log house and a plot of ground for he own. The rain sho'
+never get in that log house, it so tight. The furniture was homemake,
+but my daddy make it good and stout.</p>
+
+<p>"Us daddy he work de ground he own on Sunday and sold the things
+to buy us shoes to put on us feet and clothes. The white folks didn't
+give us clothes but they let him have all the money he made in his own
+plot to get them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Us mama name Marguerite and she a field hand, too, so us chillen
+growed up in the white folks house mostly. 'Fore Felice get big enough to
+leave I stay in the big house and take care of her.</p>
+
+<p>"One day us papa fall sick in the bed, just 'fore freedom, and he
+kep' callin' for the priest. Old massa call the priest and just 'fore us
+papa die the priest marry him and my mama. 'fore dat they just married by
+the massa's word.</p>
+
+<p>"Felice and me, us have two brothers what was born and die in slavery,
+and one sister still livin' in Bolivar now. Us three uncles, Bruno
+and Pophrey and Zaphrey, they goes to the war. Them three dies too young.
+The Yankees stole them and make them boys fight for them.</p>
+
+<p>"I never done much work but wash the dishes. They wasn't poor
+people and they uses good dishes. The missy real particular 'bout us
+shinin' them dishes nice, and the silver spoons and knives, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Them white people was good Christian people and they christen
+us both in the old brick Catholic church in Opelousas. They done torn it
+down now. Missy give me pretty dress to get christen in. My godmother,
+she Mileen Nesaseau, but I call her 'Miran'. My godfather called 'Paran.'</p>
+
+<p>"On Sunday mornin' us fix our dress and hair and go up to the
+missy's looking-glass to see if us pretty enough go to church. Us goes
+to Mass every Sunday mornin' and church holiday, and when the cullud
+folks sick massa send for the priest same's for the white folks.</p>
+
+<p>"We wears them things on the strings round the neck for the good
+of the heart. They's nutmeg.</p>
+
+<p>"The plantation was a big, grand place and they have lots of orange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
+trees. The slaves pick them oranges and pack then down on the barrel
+with la mosse (Spanish moss) to keep them. They was plenty pecans and
+figs, too.</p>
+
+<p>"In slavery time most everybody round Opelousas talk Creole.
+That make the words hard to come sometime. Us both talk that better
+way than English.</p>
+
+<p>"Durin' the war, it were a sight. Every mornin' Capt. Jenerette
+Bank and he men go a hoss-back drillin' in the pasture and then
+have drill on foot. A white lady take all us chillen to the drill ground
+every mornin'. Us take the lunch food in the basket and stay till they
+done drill out.</p>
+
+<p>"I can sing for you the song they used to sing:</p>
+
+<p>
+"O, de Yankee come to put de nigger free,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Says I, says I, pas bonne;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In eighteen-sixty-three,</span><br />
+De Yankee get out they gun and say,<br />
+Hurrah! Let's put on the ball.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"When war over none the slaves wants leave the plantation.
+My mama and us chillen stays on till old massa and missy dies, and then
+goes live on the old Repridim place for a time.</p>
+
+<p>"Both us get marry in that Catholic church in Opelousas. As
+for me, it most too long ago to talk about. His name Alfred Johnson and
+he dead 12 years. Our youngest boy, John, go to the World War. Two my
+nephews die in that war and one nephew can't walk now from that war.</p>
+
+<p>"Felice marry Joseph Boudreaux and when he die she come here to
+stay with me. There's more hard time now than in the old day for us, but
+I hope things get better.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420103" id="n420103"></a>420103</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 214px;"><a href="images/162228v.png">
+<img src="images/162228r.png" width="214" height="300" alt="Spence Johnson" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Spence Johnson</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>SPENCE JOHNSON was born free,
+a member of the Choctaw Nation,
+in the Indian Territory, in the
+1850's. He does not know his
+exact age. He and his mother
+were stolen and sold at auction
+in Shreveport to Riley Surratt,
+who lived near Shreveport, on
+the Texas-Louisiana line. He
+has lived in Waco since 1874.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"De nigger stealers done stole me and my mammy out'n de
+Choctaw Nation, up in de Indian Territory, when I was 'bout three
+years old. Brudder Knox, Sis Hannah, and my mammy and her two
+step-chillun was down on de river washin'. De nigger stealers driv
+up in a big carriage and mammy jus' thought nothin', 'cause the
+road was near dere and people goin' on de road stopped to water de
+horses and res' awhile in de shade. By'n by, a man coaxes de two
+bigges' chillun to de carriage and give dem some kind-a candy. Other
+chillun sees dis and goes, too. Two other men was walkin' 'round
+smokin' and gettin' closer to mammy all de time. When he kin, de
+man in de carriage got de two big step-chillun in with him and me
+and sis' clumb in too, to see how come. Den de man holler, 'Git de
+ole one and let's git from here.' With dat de two big men grab mammy
+and she fought and screeched and bit and cry, but dey hit her on de
+head with something and drug her in, and throwed her on de floor. De
+big chilluns begin to fight for mammy, but one of de men hit 'em hard
+and off dey driv, with de horses under whip.</p>
+
+<p>"Dis was near a place called Boggy Depot. Dey went down de
+Red Ribber, 'cross de ribber and on down in Louisian to Shreveport.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>
+Down in Louisan us was put on what dey call de 'block' and sol' to de
+highes' bidder. My mammy and her three chillun brung $3,000 flat. De
+step chillun was sol' to somebody else, but us was bought by Marse Riley
+Surratt. He was de daddy of Jedge Marshall Surratt, him who got to be
+jedge here in Waco.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse Riley Surratt had a big plantation; don't know how many
+acres, but dere was a factory and gins and big houses and lots of nigger
+quarters. De house was right on de Tex-Louisan line. Mammy cooked for
+'em. When Marse Riley bought her, she couldn' speak nothin' but de
+Choctaw words. I was a baby when us lef' de Choctaw country. My sister
+looked like a full blood Choctaw Indian and she could pass for a real
+full blood Indian. Mammy's folks was all Choctaw Indians. Her sisters
+was Polly Hogan, and Sookey Hogan and she had a brudder, Nolan Tubby. Dey
+was all known in de Territory in de ole days.</p>
+
+<p>"Near as Marse Riley's books can come to it, I mus' of been bo'n
+'round 1859, up in de Territory.</p>
+
+<p>"Us run de hay press to bale cotton on de plantation and took
+cotton by ox wagons to Shreveport. Seven or eight wagons in a train, with
+three or four yoke of steers to each wagon. Us made 'lasses and cloth
+and shoes and lots of things. Old Marse Riley had a nigger who could make
+shoes and if he had to go to court in Carthage, he'd leave nigger make
+shoes for him.</p>
+
+<p>"De quarters was a quarter mile long, all strung out on de creek
+bank. Our cabin was nex' de big house. De white folks give big balls and
+had supper goin' all night. Us had lots to eat and dey let us have dances
+and suppers, too. We never go anywhere. Mammy always cry and 'fraid of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>
+bein' stole again.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere was a white man live close to us, but over in Louisan.
+He had raised him a great big black man what brung fancy price on de
+block. De black man sho' love dat white man. Dis white man would sell
+ole John&mdash;dat's de black man's name&mdash;on de block to some man from
+Georgia or other place fur off. Den, after 'while de white man would
+steal ole John back and bring him home and feed him good, den sell him
+again. After he had sol' ole John some lot of times, he coaxed ole John
+off in de swamp one day and ole John foun' dead sev'ral days later.
+De white folks said dat de owner kilt him, 'cause 'a dead nigger won't
+tell no tales.'</p>
+
+<p>"Durin' de Freedom War, I seed soldiers all over de road. Dey
+was breakin' hosses what dey stole. Us skeered and didn' let soldiers
+see us if we could he'p it. Mammy and I stayed on with Marse Riley
+after Freedom and till I was 'bout sixteen. Den Marse Riley died and
+I come to Waco in a wagon with Jedge Surratt's brother, Marse Taylor
+Surratt. I come to Waco de same year dat Dr. Lovelace did, and he says
+that was 1874. I married and us had six chillun.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't read or write, 'cause I only went to school one day.
+De white folks tried to larn me, but I's too thickheaded.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420244" id="n420244"></a>420244</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 220px;"><a href="images/162231av.png">
+<img src="images/162231ar.png" width="220" height="300" alt="Harriet Jones" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Harriet Jones</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 423px;"><a href="images/162231bv.png">
+<img src="images/162231br.png" width="423" height="300" alt="Harriet Jones with Daughter and Granddaughter" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Harriet Jones with Daughter and Granddaughter</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>HARRIET JONES, 93, was born a
+slave of Martin Fullbright, who
+owned a large plantation in
+North Carolina. When he died
+his daughter, Ellen, became
+Harriet's owner, and was so
+kind to Harriet that she looks
+back on slave years as the happiest
+time in her life.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My daddy and mammy was Henry and Zilphy Guest and Marse Martin
+Fullbright brung dem from North Carolina to Red River County, in Texas,
+long 'fore freedom, and settled near Clarksville. I was one of dere
+eight chillen and borned in 1844 and am 93 years old. My folks stayed
+with Marse Martin and he daughter, Miss Ellen, till dey went to de reward
+where dey dies no more.</p>
+
+<p>"De plantation raise corn and oats and wheat and cotton and hawgs
+and cattle and hosses, and de neares' place to ship to market am at Jefferson,
+Texas, ninety miles from Clarksville, den up river to Shreveport
+and den to Memphis or New Orleans. Dey send cotton by wagon train to
+Jefferson but mostly by boat up de bayou.</p>
+
+<p>"When Marse Martin die he 'vide us slaves to he folks and I falls
+to he daughter, Miss Ellen. Iffen ever dere was a angel on dis earth
+she was it. I hopes wherever it is, her spirit am in glory.</p>
+
+<p>"When Miss Ellen marry Marse Johnnie Watson, she have me fix her up.
+She have de white satin dress and pink sash and tight waist and hoop skirt,
+so she have to go through de door sideways. De long curls I made hang
+down her shoulders and a bunch of pink roses in de hand. She look like a
+angel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"All de fine folks in Clarksville at dat weddin' and dey dances in
+de big room after de weddin' supper. It was de grand time but it make me cry,
+'cause Miss Ellen done growed up. When she was a li'l gal she wore de sweetes'
+li'l dresses and panties with de lace ruffles what hung down below her skirt,
+and de jacket button in de back and shoes from soft leather de shoeman tan jus'
+for her. When she li'l bigger she wear de tucked petticoats, two, three at a
+time to take place of hoops, but she still wear de white panties with lace ruffles
+what hang below de skirt 'bout a foot. Where dey gone now? I ain't seed any
+for sich a long time!</p>
+
+<p>"When de white ladies go to church in dem hoop skirts, dey has to pull
+dem up in da back to set down. After freedom dey wears de dresses long with de
+train and has to hold up de train when dey goes in de church, lessen dey has
+de li'l nigger to go 'long and hold it up for dem.</p>
+
+<p>"All us house women larned to knit de socks and head mufflers, and many is
+de time I has went to town and traded socks for groceries. I cooked, too, and
+helped 'fore old Marse died. For everyday cookin' we has corn pone and potlicker
+and bacon meat and mustard and turnip greens, and good, old sorghum 'lasses. On
+Sunday we has chicken or turkey or roast pig and pies and cakes and hot, salt-risin'
+bread.</p>
+
+<p>"When folks visit dem days dey do it right and stays several days, maybe
+a week or two. When de quality folks comes for dinner, Missie show me how to
+wait on table. I has to come in when she ring de bell, and hold de waiter for
+food jus' right. For de breakfas' we has coffee and hot waffles what my mammy
+make.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dere was a old song we used to sing 'bout de hoecake, when we cookin'
+dem:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'If you wants to bake a hoecake,<br />
+To bake it good and done,<br />
+Slap it on a nigger's heel,<br />
+And hold it to de sun.<br />
+<br />
+"'My mammy baked a hoecake,<br />
+As big as Alabama,<br />
+She throwed it 'gainst a nigger's head,<br />
+It ring jus' like a hammer.<br />
+<br />
+"'De way you bake a hoecake,<br />
+De old Virginny way,<br />
+Wrap it round a nigger's stomach,<br />
+And hold it dere all day.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Dat de life we lives with old and young marse and missie, for dey
+de quality folks of old Texas.</p>
+
+<p>"'Bout time for de field hands to go to work, it gittin' mighty hot
+down here, so dey go by daylight when it cooler. Old Marse have a horn and
+'long 'bout four o'clock it 'gin to blow, and you turn over and try take 'nother
+nap, den it goes arguin', <span class="spaced">blow</span>, how loud dat old horn do blow, but de sweet
+smell de air and de early breeze blowin' through de trees, and de sun peepin'
+over de meadow, make you glad to git up in de early mornin'.</p>
+
+<p>
+"'It's a cool and frosty mornin'<br />
+And de niggers goes to work,<br />
+With hoes upon dey shoulders,<br />
+Without a bit of shirt.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"'When dey hears de horn blow for dinner it am de race, and dey sings:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'I goes up on de meatskins,<br />
+I comes down on de pone&mdash;<br />
+I hits de corn pone fifty licks,<br />
+And makes dat butter moan.'<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"De timber am near de river and de bayou and when dey not workin' de
+hosses or no other work, we rides down and goes huntin' with de boys, for wild
+turkeys and prairie chickens, but dey like bes' to hunt for coons and possums.</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Possum up de gum stump,<br />
+Raccoon in de hollow&mdash;<br />
+Git him down and twist him out,<br />
+And I'll give you a dollar.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Come Christmas, Miss Ellen say, 'Harriet, have de Christmas Tree carry in
+and de holly and evergreens.' Den she puts de candles on de tree and hangs de
+stockin's up for de white chillen and de black chillen. Nex' mornin', everybody
+up 'fore day and somethin' for us all, and for de men a keg of cider or wine
+on de back porch, so dey all have a li'l Christmas spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"De nex' thing am de dinner, serve in de big dinin' room, and dat dinner!
+De onlies' time what I ever has sich a good dinner am when I gits married and
+when Miss Ellen marries Mr. Johnnie. After de white folks eats, dey watches de
+servants have dey dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"Den dey has guitars and banjoes and fiddles and plays old Christmas
+tunes, den dat night marse and missie brung de chillen to de quarters, to see
+de niggers have dey dance. 'Fore de dance dey has Christmas supper, on de long
+table out in de yard in front de cabins, and have wild turkey or chicken and
+plenty good things to eat. When dey all through eatin', dey has a li'l fire
+front de main cabins where de dancin' gwine be. Dey moves everything out de
+cabin 'cept a few chairs. Next come de fiddler and banjo-er and when dey starts,
+de caller call, 'Heads lead off,' and de first couple gits in middle de floor,
+and all de couples follow till de cabin full. Next he calls, 'Sashay to de right,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
+and do-si-do.' Round to de right dey go, den he calls, 'Swing you partners,
+and dey swing dem round twice, and so it go till daylight come, den he sing dis
+song:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Its gittin' mighty late when de Guinea hen squall,<br />
+And you better dance now if you gwine dance a-tall&mdash;<br />
+If you don't watch out, you'll sing 'nother tune,<br />
+For de sun rise and cotch you, if you don't go soon,<br />
+For de stars gittin' paler and de old gray coon<br />
+Is sittin' in de grapevine a-watchin' de moon.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Den de dance break up with de Virginny Reel, and it de end a happy
+Christmas day. De old marse lets dem frolic all night and have nex' day to git
+over it, 'cause its Christmas.</p>
+
+<p>"'Fore freedom de soldiers pass by our house and stop ask mammy to cook
+dem something to eat, and when de Yankees stop us chillen hides. Once two men
+stays two, three weeks lookin' round, pretends dey gwine buy land. But when de
+white folks gits 'spicious, dey leaves right sudden, and it turn out dey's Yankee
+spies.</p>
+
+<p>"I marries Bill Jones de year after freedom. It a bright, moonlight night
+and all de white folks and niggers come and de preacher stand under de big elm tree,
+and I come in with two li'l pickininnies for flower gals and holdin' my train. I
+has on one Miss Ellen's dresses and red <a name='TC_34'></a><ins title="stockn's">stockin's</ins> and a pair brand new shoes and
+a wide brim hat. De preacher say, 'Bill, does you take dis woman to be you lawful
+wife?' and Bill say he will. Den he say, 'Harriet, will you take dis nigger to be
+you lawful boss and do jes' what he say?' Den we signs de book and de preacher
+say, 'I quotes from de scripture:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Dark and stormy may come de weather,<br />
+I jines dis man and woman together.<br />
+Let none but Him what make de thunder,<br />
+Put dis man and woman asunder.'<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Den we goes out in de backyard, where de table sot for supper, a long
+table made with two planks and de peg legs. Miss Ellen puts on de white tablecloth
+and some red berries, 'cause it am November and dey is ripe. Den she
+puts on some red candles, and we has barbecue pig and roast sweet 'taters and
+dumplin's and pies and cake. Dey all eats dis grand supper till dey full and
+mammy give me de luck charm for de bride. It am a rabbit toe, and she say:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Here, take dis li'l gift,<br />
+And place it near you heart;<br />
+It keep away dat li'l riff<br />
+What causes folks to part.<br />
+<br />
+"'It only jes' a rabbit toe,<br />
+But plenty luck it brings,<br />
+Its worth a million dimes or more,<br />
+More'n all de weddin' rings.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Den we goes to Marse Watson's saddleshop to dance and dances all night,
+and de bride and groom, dat's us, leads de grand march.</p>
+
+<p>"De Yankees never burned de house or nothin', so Young Marse and Missie
+jes' kep' right on livin' in de old home after freedom, like old Marse done
+'fore freedom. He pay de families by de <a name='TC_35'></a><ins title="dey">day</ins> for work and let dem work land on
+de halves and furnish dem teams and grub and dey does de work.</p>
+
+<p>"But bye'n-bye times slow commence to change, and first one and 'nother
+de old folks goes on to de Great Beyon', one by one dey goes, till all I has
+left am my great grandchild what I lives with now. My sister was livin' at
+Greenville six years ago. She was a hundred and four years old den. I don't
+know if she's livin' now or not. How does we live dat long? Way back yonder
+'fore I's born was a blessin' handed down from my great, great, grandfather.
+It de blessin' of long life, and come with a blessin' of good health from
+livin' de clean, hones' life. When nighttime come, we goes to bed and to
+sleep, and dat's our blessin'.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420057" id="n420057"></a>420057</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 171px;"><a href="images/162237v.png">
+<img src="images/162237r.png" width="171" height="300" alt="Lewis Jones" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Lewis Jones</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>LEWIS JONES, 86, was born a slave
+to Fred Tate, who owned a large
+plantation on the Colorado River
+in Fayette Co., Texas. Lewis'
+father was born a slave to H.
+Jones and was sold to Fred Tate,
+who used him as a breeder to build
+up his slave stock. Lewis took
+his father's name after Emancipation,
+and worked for twenty-three
+years in a cotton gin at La Grange.
+He came to Fort Worth in 1896 and
+worked for Armour &amp; Co. until 1931.
+Lewis lives at 3304 Loving Ave.,
+Fort Worth, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My birth am in de year 1851 on de plantation of Massa Fred Tate,
+what am on de Colorado River. Yes, suh, dat am in de state of Texas.
+My mammy am owned by Massa Tate and so am my pappy and all my brudders
+and sisters. How many brudders and sisters? Lawd A-mighty! I'll tell
+you 'cause you asks and dis nigger gives de facts as 'tis. Let's see,
+I can't 'lect de number. My pappy have 12 chillen by my mammy and 12
+by anudder nigger name Mary. You keep de count. Den dere am Liza, him
+have 10 by her, and dere am Mandy, him have 8 by her, and dere am Betty,
+him have six by her. Now, let me 'lect some more. I can't bring de
+names to mind, but dere am two or three other what have jus' one or two
+chillen by my pappy. Dat am right. Close to 50 chillen, 'cause my
+mammy done told me. It's disaway, my pappy am de breedin' nigger.</p>
+
+<p>"You sees, when I meets a nigger on dat plantation, I's most
+sho' it am a brudder or sister, so I don't try keep track of 'em.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa Tate didn't give rations to each family like lots of
+massas, but him have de cookhouse and de cooks, and all de rations
+cooked by dem and all us niggers sat down to de long tables. Dere am
+plenty, plenty. I sho' wishes I could have some good rations like dat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
+now. Man, some of dat ham would go fine. Dat was 'Ham, what am.'</p>
+
+<p>"We'uns raise all de food right dere on de place. Hawgs? We'uns
+have three, four hundred and massa raise de corn and feed dem and cure de
+meat. We'uns have de cornmeal and de wheat flour and all de milk and
+butter we wants, 'cause massa have 'bout 30 cows. And dere am de good
+old 'lasses, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa feed powerful good and he am not onreas'ble. He don't whup
+much and am sho' reas'ble 'bout de pass, and he 'low de parties and have
+de church on de place. Old Tom am de preacherman and de musician and him
+play de fiddle and banjo. Sometime dey have jig contest, dat when dey puts
+de glass of water on de head and see who can jig de hardes' without spillin'
+de water. Den dere am joyment in de singin'. Preacher Tom set all us niggers
+in de circle and sing old songs. I jus' can't sing for you, 'cause I's lost
+my teeth and my voice am raspin', but I'll word some, sich as</p>
+
+<p>
+"'In de new Jerusalem,<br />
+In de year of Jubilee.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"I done forgit de words. Den did you ever hear dis one:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Oh, do, what Sam done, do dat again,<br />
+He went to de hambone, bit off de end.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"When Old Tom am preacherman, him talks from he heartfelt. Den sometime
+a white preacherman come and he am de Baptist and baptize we'uns.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa have de fine coach and de seat for de driver am up high in front
+and I's de coachman and he dresses me nice and de hosses am fine, white team.
+Dere I's sat up high, all dress good, holdin' a tight line 'cause de team am
+full of spirit and fast. We'uns goes lickity split and it am a purty sight.
+Man, 'twarnt anyone bigger dan dis nigger.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I has de bad luck jus' one time with dat team and it am disaway:
+massa have jus' change de power for de gin from hoss to steam and dey am
+ginnin' cotton and I's with dat team 'side de house and de hosses am a-prancin'
+and waitin' for missy to come out. Massa am in de coach. Den, de fool
+niggers blows de whistle of dat steam engine and de hosses never heered sich
+befo' and dey starts to run. Dey have de bit in de teeths and I's lucky
+dat road am purty straight. I thinks of massa bein' inside de coach and
+wants to save him. I says to myself, 'Dem hosses skeert and I don't want
+to skeer 'em no more.' I jus' hold de lines steady and keep sayin',
+'Steady, boys, whoa boys.' Fin'ly dey begins to slow down and den stops
+and massa gits out and de hosses am puffin' hard and all foam. He turns to
+me and say, 'Boy, you's made a wonnerful drive, like a vet'ran.' Now, does
+dat make me feel fine! It sho' do.</p>
+
+<p>"When surrender come I's been drivin' 'bout a year and it's 'bout
+11 o'clock in de mornin', 'cause massa have me ring de bell and all de niggers
+runs quick to de house and massa say dey am free niggers. It am time for
+layin' de crops by and he say if dey do dat he pay 'em. Some stays and some
+goes off, but mammy and pappy and me stays. Dey never left dat plantation,
+and I stays 'bout 8 years. I guess it dat coachman job what helt me.</p>
+
+<p>"When I quits I goes to work for Ed Mattson in La Grange and I works
+in dat cotton gin 18 years. Fin'ly I comes here to Fort Worth. Dat am 1896.
+I works for Armours 20 years but dey let me off six years ago, 'cause I's too
+old. Since den I works at any little old job, for to make my livin'.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Sho', I's been married and it to Jane Owen in La Grange,
+and we'uns have three chillen and dey all dead. She died in 1931.</p>
+
+<p>"It am hard for dis nigger to git by and sometime I don't know
+for sho' dat I's gwine git anudder meal, but it allus come some way. Yes,
+suh, dey allus come some way. Some of de time dey is far apart, but dey
+comes. De Lawd see to dat, I guess.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420148" id="n420148"></a>420148</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>LIZA JONES, 81, was born a slave
+of Charley Bryant, near Liberty,
+Texas. She lives in Beaumont,
+and her little homestead is reached
+by a devious path through a cemetery
+and across a ravine on a plank
+foot-bridge. Liza sat in a backless
+chair, smoking a pipe, and
+her elderly son lay on a blanket
+nearby. Both were resting after
+a hot day's work in the field.
+Within the open door could be
+seen Henry Jones, Liza's husband
+for sixty years, a tall, gaunt
+Negro who is helpless. Blind,
+deaf and almost speechless, he
+could tell nothing of slavery
+days, although he was grown when
+the war ended.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"When de Yankees come to see iffen dey had done turn us a-loose, I
+am a nine year old nigger gal. That make me about 81 now. Dey promenade
+up to de gate and de drum say a-dr-um-m-m-m-m, and de man in de blue uniform
+he git down to open de gate. Old massa he see dem comin' and he runned
+in de house and grab up de gun. When he come hustlin' down off de gallery,
+my daddy come runnin'. He seed old massa too mad to know what he a-doin',
+so quicker dan a chicken could fly he grab dat gun and wrastle it outten
+old massa's hands. Den he push old massa in de smokehouse and lock de door.
+He ain't do dat to be mean, but he want to keep old massa outten trouble.
+Old massa know dat, but he beat on de door and yell, but it ain't git open
+till dem Yankees done gone.</p>
+
+<p>"I wisht old massa been a-livin' now, I'd git a piece of bread and
+meat when I want it. Old man Charley Bryant, he de massa, and Felide Bryant
+de missus. Dey both have a good age when freedom come.</p>
+
+<p>"My daddy he George Price and he boss nigger on de place. Dey all
+come from Louisiana, somewhere round New Orleans and all dem li'l extra
+places.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Liz'beth she my mama and dey's jus' two us chillen, me and my brudder, John.
+He lives in Beaumont.</p>
+
+<p>"'Bout all de work I did was 'tend to de rooms and sweep. Nobody ever
+'low us to see nobody 'bused. I never seed or heared of nobody gittin' cut
+to pieces with a whip like some. Course, chillen wasn't 'lowed to go everywhere
+and see everything like dey does now. Dey jump in every corner now.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Flora and Miss Molly am de only ones of my white folks what am
+alive now and dey done say dey take me to San Antonio with dem. Course, I
+couldn't go now and leave Henry, noway. De old Bryant place am in de lawsuit.
+Dey say de brudder, Mister Benny, he done sharped it 'way from de
+others befo' he die, but I 'lieve the gals will win dat lawsuit.</p>
+
+<p>"My daddy am de gold <a name='TC_36'></a><ins title="iplot">pilot</ins> on de old place. Dat mean anything he done
+was right and proper. Way after freedom, when my daddy die in Beaumont,
+Cade Bryant and Mister Benny both want to see him befo' he buried. Dey ride
+in and say, 'Better not you bury him befo' us see him. Dat's us young George.'
+Dey allus call daddy dat, but he old den.</p>
+
+<p>"My mama was de spring back cook and turkey baker. Dey call her dat,
+she so neat, and cook so nice. I's de expert cook, too. She larnt me.</p>
+
+<p>"Us chillen used to sing</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Don't steal,<br />
+Don't steal my sugar.<br />
+Don't steal,<br />
+Don't steal my candy.<br />
+I's comin' round de mountain.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Dey sho' have better church in dem days dan now. Us git happy and
+shout. Dey too many blind taggers now. Now dey say dey got de key and dey
+ain't got nothin'. Us used to sing like dis:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>
+"'Adam's fallen race,<br />
+Good Lawd, hang down my head and cry.<br />
+Help me to trust him,<br />
+Help me to trust him,<br />
+Help me to trust him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Gift of Gawd.</span><br />
+<br />
+"'Help me to trust him,<br />
+Help me to trust him,<br />
+Help me to trust him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Eternal Life.</span><br />
+<br />
+"'Had not been for Adam's race,<br />
+I wouldn't been sinnin' today,<br />
+Help me to trust him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Gift of Gawd.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Dey 'nother hymn like dis:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Heavenly land,<br />
+Heavenly land,<br />
+I's gwineter beg Gawd,<br />
+For dat Heavenly land.<br />
+<br />
+"'Some come cripplin',<br />
+Some come lame,<br />
+Some come walkin',<br />
+In Jesus' name.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"You know I saw you-all last night in my sleep? I ain't never seed
+you befo' today, but I seed you last night. Dey's two of you, a man and a woman,
+and you come crost dat bridge and up here, askin' me iffen I trust in de Lawd.
+And here you is today.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey had nice parties in slavery time and right afterwards. Dey have
+candy pullin' and corn shuckin's and de like. Old Massa Day and Massa Bryant,
+dey used to put dey niggers together and have de prize dances. Massa Day allus
+lose, 'cause us allus beat he niggers at dancin'. Lawd, when I clean myself up,
+I sho' could teach dem how to buy a cake-walk in dem days. I could cut de
+pigeon wing, jes' pull my heels up and clack dem together. Den us do de back
+step and de banquet, too.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Us allus have de white tarleton Swiss dress for dances and Sunday.
+Dem purty good clothes, too and dey make at home. Us knowed how to sew and
+one de old man's gals, she try teach me readin' and writin'. I didn't have
+no sense, though, and I cry to go out and play.</p>
+
+<p>"When freedom come old massa he done broke down and cry, so my daddy
+stay with him. He stay a good many year, till both us chillen was growed.
+Us have de li'l log house on de place all dat time. Dey 'nother old cullud
+man what stay, name George Whitehouse. He have de li'l house, too. He stay
+till he die.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey was tryin' to make a go of it after de war, 'cause times was hard.
+De white boys, dey go out in de field and work den, and work hard, 'cause dey
+don't have de slaves no more. I used to see de purty, young white ladies, all
+dress up, comin' to de front door. I slips out and tell de white boys, and
+dey workin' in de field, half-naked and dirty, and dey sneak in de back door
+and clean up to spark dem gals.</p>
+
+<p>"I been marry to dat Henry in dere sixty year, and he was a slave in
+Little Rock, in Arkansas, for Anderson Jones. Henry knowed de bad, tejous
+part of de war and he must be 'bout 96 year old. Now he am in pain all de
+time. Can't see, can't hear and can't talk. Us never has had de squabble.
+At de weddin' de white folks brung cakes and every li'l thing. I had a white
+tarleton dress with de white tarleton wig. Dat de hat part what go over de
+head and drape on de shoulder. Dat de sign you ain't never done no wrong sin
+and gwinter keep bein' good.</p>
+
+<p>"After us marry I move off de old place, but nothin' must do but I got to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>
+keep de house for Mister Benny. I's cleanin' up one time and finds a milk
+churn of money. I say, 'Mr. Benny, what for you ain't put dat money in de
+bank?' He say he will. De next time I cleanin' up I finds a pillow sack full
+of money. I says, 'Mr. Benny, I's gwineter quit. I ain't gwineter be 'sponsible
+for dis money.' He's sick den and I put de money under he pillow and git
+ready to go. He say, 'You better stay, or I send Andrew, de sheriff, after
+you.' I goes and cooks dinner and when I gits back dey has four doctors
+with Mr. Benny. He wife say to me, 'Liza, you got de sight. Am Benny gwineter
+git well?' I goes and looks and I knowed he gwine way from dere. I knowed
+he was gone den. Dey leant on me a heap after dat.</p>
+
+<p>"It some years after dat I leaves dem and Henry and me gits married
+and us make de livin' farmin'. Us allus stays right round hereabouts and
+gits dis li'l house. Now my son and me, us work de field and gits 'nough
+to git through on.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420089" id="n420089"></a>420089</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 206px;"><a href="images/162246v.png">
+<img src="images/162246r.png" width="206" height="300" alt="Lizzie Jones" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Lizzie Jones</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>LIZZIE JONES, an 86 year old ex-slave
+of the R.H. Hargrove family, was born
+in 1861, in Harrison County, Texas. She
+stayed with her owner until four years
+after the close of the Civil War. She
+now lives with Talmadge Buchanan, a
+grandson, two miles east of Karnack, on
+the Lee road.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was bo'n on the ole Henry Hargrove place. My ole
+missus was named Elizabeth and mammy called me Lizzie for her.
+But the Hargroves called me 'Wink' since I was a chile, 'cause
+I was so black and shiny. Massa Hargrove had four girls and
+four boys and I helped tend them till I was big enough to cook
+and keep house. I wagged ole Marse Dr. Hargrove, dat lives in
+Marshall, round when he was a baby.</p>
+
+<p>"I allus lived in de house with the white folks and
+ate at their table when they was through, and slep' on the floor.
+We never had no school or church in slavery time. The niggers
+couldn' even add. None of us knowed how ole we was, but Massa
+set our ages down in a big book.</p>
+
+<p>"I 'member playin' peep-squirrel and marbles and keepin'
+house when I was a chile. Massa 'lowed the boys and girls to
+cou't but they couldn' marry 'fore they was 20 years ole, and
+they couldn' marry off the plantation. Slaves warn't married by
+no Good Book or the law, neither. They'd jes' take up with each
+other and go up to the Big House and ask massa to let them marry.
+If they was ole enough, he'd say to the boy, 'Take her and go on
+home.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mammy lived 'cross the field at the quarters and there was
+so many nigger shacks it look like a town. The slaves slep' on bunks
+of homemade boards nailed to de wall with poles for legs and they cooked
+on the fireplace. I didn' know what a stove was till after de War.
+Sometime they'd bake co'nbread in the ashes and every bit of the grub
+they ate come from the white folks and the clothes, too. I run them
+looms many a night, weavin' cloth. In summer we had lots of turnips
+and greens and garden stuff to eat. Massa allus put up sev'ral barrels
+of kraut and a smokehouse full of po'k for winter. We didn' have flour
+or lard, but huntin' was good 'fore de war and on Sat'day de men could
+go huntin' and fishin' and catch possum and rabbits and squirrels and
+coons.</p>
+
+<p>"The overseer was named Wade and he woke the han's up at four
+in the mornin' and kep' them in the field from then till the sun set.
+Mos' of de women worked in de fields like de men. They'd wash clothes
+at night and dry them by the fire. The overseer kep' a long coach whip
+with him and if they didn' work good, he'd thrash them good. Sometime
+he's pretty hard on them and strip 'em off and whip 'em till they think
+he was gonna kill 'em. No nigger ever run off as I 'member.</p>
+
+<p>"We never have no parties till after 'mancipation, and we couldn'
+go off de place. On Sundays we slep' or visited each other. But the
+white folks was good to us. Massa Hargrove didn' have no doctor but
+there wasn' much sickness and seldom anybody die.</p>
+
+<p>"I don' 'member much 'bout de War. Massa went to it, but he come
+home shortly and say he sick with the 'sumption, but he got well real<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>
+quick after surrender.</p>
+
+<p>"The white folks didn' let the niggers know they was free
+till 'bout a year after the war. Massa Hargrove took sick sev'ral
+months after and 'fore he did he tell the folks not to let the niggers
+loose till they have to. Finally they foun' out and 'gun to
+leave.</p>
+
+<p>"My pappy died 'fore I was bo'n and mammy married Caesar
+Peterson and 'bout a year after de war dey moved to a farm close to
+Lee, but I kep' on workin' for de Hargroves for four years, helpin'
+missus cook and keep house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420288" id="n420288"></a>420288</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>TOBY JONES was born in South
+Carolina, in 1850, a slave of
+Felix Jones, who owned a large
+tobacco plantation. Toby has
+farmed in Madisonville, Texas,
+since 1869, and still supports
+himself, though his age makes
+it hard for him to work.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My father's name was Eli Jones and mammy's name was Jessie. They
+was captured in Africa and brought to this country whilst they was still
+young folks, and my father was purty hard to realize he was a slave, 'cause
+he done what he wanted back in Africa.</p>
+
+<p>"Our owner was Massa Felix Jones and he had lots of tobacco planted.
+He was real hard on us slaves and whipped us, but Missie Janie, she was a
+real good woman to her black folks. I 'members when their li'l curlyheaded
+Janie was borned. She jus' loved this old, black nigger and I carried her
+on my back whole days at a time. She was the sweetes' baby ever borned.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa, he lived in a big, rock house with four rooms and lots of
+shade trees, and had 'bout fifty slaves. Our livin' quarters wasn't bad.
+They was rock, too, and beds built in the corners, with straw moss to sleep
+on.</p>
+
+<p>"We had plenty to eat, 'cause the woods was full of possum and rabbits
+and all the mud holes full of fish. I sho' likes a good, old, fat possum
+cooked with sweet 'taters round him. We cooked meat in a old-time pot over
+the fireplace or on a forked stick. We grated corn by hand for cornbread
+and made waterpone in the ashes.</p>
+
+<p>"I was borned 'bout 1850, so I was plenty old to 'member lots 'bout
+slave times. I 'members the loyal clothes, a long shirt what come down below<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>
+our knees, opened all the way down the front. On Sunday we had white loyal
+shirts, but no shoes and when it was real cold we'd wrap our feet in wool
+rags so they wouldn't freeze. I married after freedom and had white loyal
+breeches. I wouldn't marry 'fore that, 'cause massa wouldn't let me have
+the woman I wanted.</p>
+
+<p>"The overseer was a mean white man and one day he starts to whip
+a nigger what am hoein' tobacco, and he whipped him so hard that nigger
+grabs him and made him holler. Missie come out and made them turn loose
+and massa whipped that nigger and put him in chains for a whole year. Every
+night he had to be in jail and couldn't see his folks for that whole year.</p>
+
+<p>"I seed slaves sold, and they'd make them clean up good and grease
+their hands and face, so they'd look real fat, and sell them off. Of course,
+most the niggers didn't know their parents or what chillen was theirs. The
+white folks didn't want them to git 'tached to each other.</p>
+
+<p>"Missie read some Bible to us every Sunday mornin' and taught us to
+do right and tell the truth. But some them niggers would go off without a
+pass and the patterrollers would beat them up scand'lous.</p>
+
+<p>"The fun was on Saturday night when massa 'lowed us to dance. There
+was lots of banjo pickin' and tin pan beatin' and dancin', and everybody
+would talk 'bout when they lived in Africa and done what they wanted.</p>
+
+<p>"I worked for massa 'bout four years after freedom, 'cause he forced
+me to, said he couldn't 'ford to let me go. His place was near ruint, the
+fences burnt and the house would have been but it was rock. There was a
+battle fought near his place and I taken missie to a hideout in the mountains
+to where her father was, 'cause there was bullets flyin' everywhere.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>
+When the war was over, massa come home and says, 'You son of a gun, you's sposed
+to be free, but you ain't, 'cause I ain't gwine give you freedom.' So, I goes
+on workin' for him till I gits the chance to steal a hoss from him. The woman
+I wanted to marry, Govie, she 'cides to come to Texas with me. Me and Govie,
+we rides that hoss most a hundred miles, then we turned him a-loose and give
+him a scare back to his house, and come on foot the rest the way to Texas.</p>
+
+<p>"All we had to eat was what we could beg and sometimes we went three days
+without a bite to eat. Sometimes we'd pick a few berries. When we got cold
+we'd crawl in a breshpile and hug up close together to keep warm. Once in
+awhile we'd come to a farmhouse and the man let us sleep on cottonseed in his
+barn, but they was far and few between, 'cause they wasn't many houses in the
+country them days like now.</p>
+
+<p>"When we gits to Texas we gits married, but all they was to our weddin'
+am we jus' 'grees to live together as man and wife. I settled on some land
+and we cut some trees and split them open and stood them on end with the tops
+together for our house. Then we deadened some trees and the land was ready to
+farm. There was some wild cattle and hawgs and that's the way we got our start,
+caught some of them and tamed them.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know as I 'spected nothin' from freedom, but they turned us out
+like a bunch of stray dogs, no homes, no clothin', no nothin', not 'nough food
+to last us one meal. After we settles on that place, I never seed man or woman,
+'cept Govie, for six years, 'cause it was a long ways to anywhere. All we had
+to farm with was sharp sticks. We'd stick holes and plant corn and when it come
+up we'd punch up the dirt round it. We didn't plant cotton, 'cause we couldn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>
+eat that. I made bows and arrows to kill wild game with and we never went
+to a store for nothin'. We made our clothes out of animal skins.</p>
+
+<p>"We used rabbit foots for good luck, tied round our necks. We'd make
+medicine out of wood herbs. There is a rabbit foot weed that we mixed with
+sassafras and made good cough syrup. Then there is cami weed for chills and
+fever.</p>
+
+<p>"All I ever did was to farm and I made a livin'. I still makes one,
+though I'm purty old now and its hard for me to keep the work up. I has some
+chickens and hawgs and a yearling or two to sell every year.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420173" id="n420173"></a>420173</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>AUNT PINKIE KELLY, whose age is
+a matter of conjecture, but who
+says she was "growed up when sot
+free," was born on a plantation
+in Brazoria Co., owned by Greenville
+McNeel, and still lives on
+what was a part of the McNeel
+plantation, in a little cabin
+which she says is much like the
+old slave quarters.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"De only place I knows 'bout is right here, what was
+Marse Greenville McNeel's plantation, 'cause I's born here and
+Marse Greenville and Missy Amelia, what was his wife, is de only
+ones I ever belonged to. After de war, Marse Huntington come
+down from up north and took over de place when Marse Greenville die,
+but de big house burned up and all de papers, too, and I couldn't
+tell to save my life how old I is, but I's growed up and worked in
+de fields befo' I's sot free.</p>
+
+<p>"My mammy's name was Harriet Jackson and she was born on
+de same plantation. My pappy's name was Dan, but folks called him
+Good Cheer. He druv oxen and one day they show me him and say he
+my pappy, and so I guess he was, but I can't tell much about him,
+'cause chillen then didn't know their pappys like chillen do now.</p>
+
+<p>"Most I 'members 'bout them times is work, 'cause we's put
+out in de fields befo' day and come back after night. Then we has
+to shell a bushel of corn befo' we goes to bed and we was so tired
+we didn't have time for nothin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Old man Jerry Driver watches us in de fields and iffen we
+didn't work hard he whip us and whip us hard. Then he die and 'nother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
+man call Archer come. He say, 'You niggers now, you don't work good, I
+beat you,' and we sho' worked hard then.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse Greenville treated us pretty good but he never give us nothin'.
+Sometime we'd run away and hide in de woods for a spell, but when they cotch
+us Marse Greenville tie us down and whip us so we don't do it no more.</p>
+
+<p>"We didn't have no clothes like we do now, jes' cotton lowers and
+rubber shoes. They used to feed us peas and cornbread and hominy, and sometime
+they threw beef in a pot and bile it, but we never had hawg meat.</p>
+
+<p>"Iffen we took sick, old Aunt Becky was de doctor. They was a
+building like what they calls a hospital and she put us in there and give
+us calomel or turpentine, dependin' on what ailed us. They allus kep' the
+babies there and let de mammies come in and suckle and dry 'em up.</p>
+
+<p>"I never heered much 'bout no <a name='TC_37'></a><ins title="wat">war</ins> and Marse Greenville never told
+us we was free. First I knows was one day we gwine to de fields and a man
+come ridin' up and say, 'Whar you folks gwine?' We say we gwine to de fields
+and then he say to Marse Greenville, 'You can't work these people, without no
+pay, 'cause they's as free as you is.' Law, we sho' shout, young folks and
+old folks too. But we stay there, no place to go, so we jes' stay, but we
+gits a little pay.</p>
+
+<p>"After 'while I marries. Allen Kelley was de first husban' what I
+ever owned and he die. Houston Edmond, he the las' husban' I ever owned
+and he die, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Law me, they used to be a sayin' that chillen born on de dark of
+de moon ain't gwineter have no luck, and I guess I sho' was born then!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420217" id="n420217"></a>420217</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 188px;"><a href="images/162255v.png">
+<img src="images/162255r.png" width="188" height="300" alt="Sam Kilgore" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Sam Kilgore</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>SAM KILGORE, 92, was born
+a slave of John Peacock, of
+Williams County, Tennessee,
+who owned one of the largest
+plantations in the south.
+When he was eight years old,
+Sam accompanied his master
+to England for a three-year
+stay. Sam was in the Confederate
+Army and also served
+in the Spanish-American
+War. He came to Fort Worth
+in 1889 and learned cement
+work. In 1917 he started a
+cement contracting business
+which he still operates. He
+lives at 1211 E. Cannon St.,
+Fort Worth, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"You asks me when I's born and was I born a slave. Well, I's born
+on July 17, 1845, so I's a slave for twenty years, and had three massas.
+I's born in Williamson County, near Memphis, in Tennessee. Massa John
+Peacock owned de plantation and am it de big one! Dere am a thousand
+acres and 'bout a thousand slaves.</p>
+
+<p>"De slave cabins am in rows, twenty in de first row and eighteen
+in de second and sixteen in de third. Den dere am house servants quarters
+near de big house. De cabins am logs and not much in dem but homemade
+tables and benches and bunks 'side de wall. Each family has dere own cabin
+and sometimes dere am ten or more in de family, so it am kind of crowded.
+But massa am good and let dem have de family life, and once each week de
+rations am measure out by a old darky what have charge de com'sary, and dere
+am allus plenty to eat.</p>
+
+<p>"But dem eats ain't like nowadays. It am home-cured meat and mostly
+cornmeal, but plenty veg'tables and 'lasses and brown sugar. Massa raised
+lots of hawgs, what am Berkshires and Razorbacks. Razorback meat am 'sidered
+de best and sweetest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"De work stock am eighty head of mules and fifty head of hosses
+and fifteen yoke of oxen. It took plenty feed for all dem and massa have
+de big field of corn, far as we could see. De plantation am run on system
+and everything clean and in order, not like lots of plantations with tools
+scattered 'round and dirt piles here and there. De chief overseer am white
+and de second overseers am black. Stien was nigger overseer in de shoemakin'
+and harness, and Aunty Darkins am overseer of de spinnin' and weavin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Dat place am so well manage dat whippin's am not nec'sary. Massa
+have he own way of keepin' de niggers in line. If dey bad he say, 'I 'spect
+dat nigger driver comin' round tomorrow and I's gwine sell you.' Now, when
+a nigger git in de hands of de nigger driver it am de big chance he'll git
+sold to de cruel massa, and dat make de niggers powerful skeert, so dey 'haves.
+On de next plantation we'd hear de niggers pleadin' when dey's whipped, 'Massa,
+have mercy,' and sich. Our massa allus say, 'Boys, you hears dat mis'ry and
+we don't want no sich on dis place and it am up to you.' So us all 'haves
+ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>"When I's four years old I's took to de big house by young Massa Frank,
+old massa's son. He have me for de errand boy and, I guess, for de plaything.
+When I gits bigger I's his valet and he like me and I sho' like him. He am
+kind and smart, too, and am choosed from nineteen other boys to go to England
+and study at de mil'tary 'cademy. I's 'bout eight when we starts for
+Liverpool. We goes from Memphis to Newport and takes de boat, Bessie. It am
+a sailboat and den de fun starts for sho'. It am summer and not much wind
+and sometimes we jus' stand still day after day in de fog so thick we can't
+see from one end de boat to de other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'll never forgit dat trip. When we gits far out on de water, I's
+dead sho' we'll never git back to land again. First I takes de seasick and
+dat am something. If there am anything worser it can't be stood! It ain't
+possible to 'splain it, but I wants to die, and if dey's anything worser dan
+dat seasick mis'ry, I says de Lawd have mercy on dem. I can't 'lieve dere am
+so much stuff in one person, but plenty come out of me. I mos' raised de ocean!
+When dat am over I gits homesick and so do Massa Frank. I cries and he tries to
+'sole me and den he gits tears in he eyes. We am weeks on dat water, and good
+old Tennessee am allus on our mind.</p>
+
+<p>"When we gits to England it am all right, but often we goes down to de
+wharf and looks over de cotton bales for dat Memphis gin mark. Couple times
+Massa Frank finds some and he say, 'Here a bale from home, Sam,' with he voice
+full of joy like a kid what find some candy. We stands round dat bale and
+wonders if it am raised on de plantation.</p>
+
+<p>"But we has de good time after we gits 'quainted and I seed lots and
+gits to know some West India niggers. But we's ready to come home and when
+we gits dere it am plenty war. Massa Frank jines de 'Federate Army and course
+I's his valet and goes with him, right over to Camp Carpenter, at Mobile. He
+am de lieutenant under General Gordon and befo' long dey pushes him higher.
+Fin'ly he gits notice he am to be a colonel and dat sep'rates us, 'cause he
+has to go to Floridy. 'I's gwine with you,' I says, for I thinks I 'longs to
+him and he 'longs to me and can't nothing part us. But he say, 'You can't go
+with me this time. Dey's gwine put you in de army.' Den I cries and he cries.</p>
+
+<p>"I's seventeen years old when I puts my hand on de book and am a sojer.
+I talks to my captain 'bout Massa Frank and wants to go to see him. But it
+wasn't more'n two weeks after he leaves dat him was kilt. Dat am de awful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
+shock to me and it am a long time befo' I gits over it. I allus feels if I'd
+been with him maybe I could save his life.</p>
+
+<p>"My company am moved to <a name='TC_38'></a><ins title="Bermingham">Birmingham</ins> and builds breastworks. Dey say
+Gen. Lee am comin' for a battle but he didn't ever come and when I been back
+to see dem breastworks, dey never been used. We marches north to Lexington,
+in Kentuck' but am gone befo' de battle to Louisville. We comes back to Salem,
+in Georgia, but I's never in no big battle, only some skirmishes now and den.
+We allus fixes for de battles and builds bridges and doesn't fight much.</p>
+
+<p>"I goes back after de war to Memphis. My mammy am on de Kilgore
+place and Massa Kilgore takes her and my pappy and two hundred other slaves
+and comes to Texas. Dat how I gits here. He settles at de place called Kilgore,
+and it was named after him, but in 1867 he moves to Cleburne.</p>
+
+<p>"Befo' we moved to Texas de Klu Kluxers done burn my mammy's house
+and she lost everything. Dey was 'bout $100 in greenbacks in dat house and
+a three hundred pound hawg in de pen, what die from de heat. We done run to
+Massa Rodger's house. De riders gits <a name='TC_39'></a><ins title="to">so</ins> bad dey come most any time and run de
+cullud folks off for no cause, jus' to be orn'ry and plunder de home. But one
+day I seed Massa Rodgers take a dozen guns out his wagon and he and some white
+men digs a ditch round de cotton field close to de road. Couple nights after
+dat de riders come and when dey gits near dat ditch a volley am fired and lots
+of dem draps off dey hosses. Dat ended de Klux trouble in dat section.</p>
+
+<p>"After I been in Texas a year I jines de Fed'ral Army for de Indian
+war. I's in de transportation division and drives oxen and mules, haulin' supplies
+to de forts. We goes to Fort Griffin and Dodge City and Laramie, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>
+Wyoming. Dere am allus two or three hundred sojers with us, to watch for
+Indian attacks. Dey travels on hosses, 'head, 'side and 'hind de wagon. One
+day de Sent'nel reports Indians am round so we gits hid in de trees and
+bresh. On a high ledge off to de west we sees de Indians travelin' north,
+two abreast. De lieutenant say he counted 'bout seven hundred but dey
+sho' missed us, or maybe I'd not be here today.</p>
+
+<p>"I stays in de service for seven years and den goes back to
+Johnson County, farmin' on de Rodgers place, and stays till I comes to Fort
+Worth in 1889. Den I gits into 'nother war, de Spanish 'merican War. But I's
+in de com'sary work so don't see much fightin'. In all dem wars I sees most
+no fightin', 'cause I allus works with de supplies.</p>
+
+<p>"After dat war I goes to work laborin' for buildin' contractors.
+I works for sev'ral den gits with Mr. Bardon and larns de cement work with
+him. He am awful good man to work for, dat John Bardon. Fin'ly I starts
+my own cement business and am still runnin' it. My health am good and I's
+allus on de job, 'cause dis home I owns has to be kept up. It cost sev'ral
+thousand dollars and I can't 'ford to neglect it.</p>
+
+<p>"I's married twict. I marries Mattie Norman in 1901 and sep'rates
+in 1904. She could spend more money den two niggers could shovel it in. Den
+I marries Lottie Young in 1909, but dere am no chillens. I's never dat lucky.</p>
+
+<p>"I's voted ev'ry 'lection and 'lieves it de duty for ev'ry citizen to
+vote.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I's told you everything from Genesis to Rev'lations, and it de
+truth, as I 'members it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420058" id="n420058"></a>420058</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 185px;"><a href="images/162260v.png">
+<img src="images/162260r.png" width="185" height="300" alt="Ben Kinchlow" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Ben Kinchlow</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>BEN KINCHLOW, 91, was the son of Lizaer
+Moore, a half-white slave owned by Sandy
+Moore, Wharton Co., and Lad Kinchlow, a
+white man. When Ben was one year old his
+mother was freed and given some money.
+She was sent to Matamoras, Mexico and they
+lived there and at Brownsville, Texas,
+during the years before and directly following
+the Civil War. Ben and his wife,
+Liza, now live in Uvalde, Texas, in a
+neat little home. Ben has straight hair,
+a Roman nose, and his speech is like that
+of the early white settler. He is affable
+and enjoys recounting his experiences.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was birthed in 1846 in Wharton, Wharton
+County, in slavery times. My mother's name was
+Lizaer Moore. I think her master's name was Sandy
+Moore, and she went by his name. My father's
+name was Lad Kinchlow. My mother was a half-breed
+Negro; my father was a white man of that same
+county. I don't know anything about my father.
+He was a white man, I know that. After I was
+borned and was one year old, my mother was set
+free and sent to Mexico to live. When we left
+Wharton, we was sent away in an ambulance. It
+was an old-time ambulance. It was what they
+called an ambulance&mdash;a four-wheeled concern
+pulled by two mules. That is what they used to
+traffic in. The big rich white folks would get
+in it and go to church or on a long journey. We
+landed safely into Matamoros, Mexico, just me
+and my mother and older brother. She had the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>
+means to live on till she got there and got acquainted.
+We stayed there about twelve years.
+Then we moved back to Brownsville and stayed
+there until after all Negroes were free. She
+went to washing and she made lots of money at
+it. She charged by the dozen. Three or four
+handkerchiefs were considered a piece. She made
+good because she got $2.50 a dozen for men washing
+and $5 a dozen for women's clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"I was married in February, 1879, to Christiana
+Temple, married at Matagorda, Matagorda County.
+I had six children by my first wife. Three boys
+and three girls. Two girls died. The other
+girl is in Gonzales County. Lawrence is here
+workin' on the Kincaid Ranch and Andrew is workin'
+for John Monagin's dairy and Henry is seventy
+miles from Alpine. He's a highway boss. This
+was my first wife. Now I am married again and
+have been with this wife forty years. Her name
+was Eliza Dawson. No children born to this union.</p>
+
+<p>"The way we lived in those days&mdash;the
+country was full of wild game, deer, wild hogs,
+turkey, duck, rabbits, 'possum, lions, quails,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>
+and so forth. You see, in them days they was
+all thinly settled and they was all neighbors.
+Most settlements was all Meskins mostly; of
+course there was a few white people. In them
+days the country was all open and a man could
+go in there and settle down wherever he wanted
+to and wouldn't be molested a-tall. They wasn't
+molested till they commenced putting these fences
+and putting up these barbwire fences. You could
+ride all day and never open a gate. Maybe ride
+right up to a man's house and then just let down
+a bar or two.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometime when we wanted fresh meat we went
+out and killed. We also could kill a calf or goat
+whenever we cared to because they were plenty and
+no fence to stop you. We also had plenty milk
+and butter and home-made cheese. We did not have
+much coffee. You know the way we made our coffee?
+We just taken corn and parched it right brown and
+ground it up. Whenever we would get up furs and
+hides enough to go into market, a bunch of neighbors
+would get together and take ten to fifteen
+deer hides each and take 'em in to Brownsville<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>
+and sell 'em and get their supplies. They paid
+twenty-five cents a pound for them. That's when
+we got our coffee, but we'd got so used to using
+corn-coffee, we didn't care whether we had that
+real coffee so much, because we had to be careful
+with our supplies, anyway. My recollection is
+that it was fifty cents a pound and it would be
+green coffee and you would have to roast it and
+grind it on a mill. We didn't have any sugar,
+and very rare thing to have flour. The deer was
+here by the hundreds. There was blue quail&mdash;my
+goodness! You could get a bunch of these
+blue top-knot quail rounded up in a bunch of pear
+and, if they was any rocks, you could kill every
+one of 'em. If you could hit one and get 'im
+to fluttering the others would bunch around him
+and you could kill every one of 'em with rocks.</p>
+
+<p>"We lived very neighborly. When any of the
+neighbors killed fresh meat we always divided
+with one another. We all had a corn patch, about
+three or four acres. We did not have plows; we
+planted with a hoe. We were lucky in raisin'
+corn every year. Most all the neighbors had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
+little bunch of goats, cows, mares, and hogs.
+Our nearest market was forty miles, at old Brownsville.
+When I was a boy I wo'e what was called
+shirt-tail. It was a long, loose shirt with no
+pants. I did not wear pants until I was about
+ten or twelve. The way we got our supplies, all
+the neighbors would go in together and send into
+town in a dump cart drawn by a mule. The main
+station was at Brownsville. It was thirty-five
+miles from where they'd change horses. They
+carried this mail to Edinburg, and it took four
+days. Sometimes they'd ride a horse or mule.
+We'd get our mail once a week. We got our mail
+at Brownsville.</p>
+
+<p>"The country was very thinly settled then
+and of very few white people; most all Meskins,
+living on the border. The country was open,
+no fences. Every neighbor had a little place.
+We didn't have any plows; we planted with a hoe
+and went along and raked the dirt over with our
+toes. We had a grist mill too. I bet I've
+turned one a million miles. There was no hired
+work then. When a man was hired he got $10 or $12<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>
+per month, and when people wanted to brand or do
+other work, all the neighbors went together and
+helped without pay. The most thing that we had
+to fear was Indians and cattle rustlers and wild
+animals.</p>
+
+<p>"While I was yet on the border, the plantation
+owners had to send their cotton to the border
+to be shipped to other parts, so it was transferred
+by Negro slaves as drivers. Lots of times,
+when these Negroes got there and took the cotton
+from their wagon, they would then be persuaded
+to go across the border by Meskins, and then they
+would never return to their master. That is how
+lots of Negroes got to be free. The way they
+used to transfer the cotton&mdash;these big cotton
+plantations east of here&mdash;they'd take it to
+Brownsville and put it on the wharf and ship it
+from there. I can remember seeing, during the
+cotton season, fifteen or twenty teams hauling
+cotton, sometimes five or six, maybe eight bales
+on a wagon. You see, them steamboats used to run
+all up and down that river. I think this cotton
+went out to market at New Orleans and went right
+out into the Gulf.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Our house was a log cabin with a log chimney
+da'bbed with mud. The cabin was covered with grass
+for a roof. The fireplace was the kind of stove
+we had. Mother cooked in Dutch ovens. Our main
+meal was corn bread and milk and grits with milk.
+That was a little bit coarser than meal. The way
+we used to cook it and the best flavored is to
+cook it out-of-doors in a Dutch oven. We called
+'em corn dodgers. Now ash cakes, you have your
+dough pretty stiff and smooth off a place in the
+ashes and lay it right on the ashes and cover it
+up with ashes and when it got done, you could
+wipe every bit of the ashes off, and get you some
+butter and put on it. M-m-m! I tell you, its fine!
+There is another way of cookin' flour bread without
+a skillet or a stove, is to make up your dough
+stiff and roll it out thin and cut it in strips
+and roll it on a green stick and just hold it
+over the coals, and it sure makes good bread.
+When one side cooks too fast, you can just turn it
+over, and have your stick long enough to keep it
+from burnin' your hands. How come me to learn
+this was: One time we were huntin' horse stock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>
+and there was an outfit along and the pack mule
+that was packed with our provisions and skillets
+and coffee pots and things&mdash;we never did carry
+much stuff, not even no beddin'&mdash;the pack turned
+on the mule and we lost our skillet and none
+of us knowed it at the time. All of us was cooks,
+but that old Meskin that was along was the only
+one that knew how to cook bread that way. Sometimes
+we would be out six weeks or two months on
+a general round-up, workin' horse stock; the
+country would just be alive with cattle, and
+horses too. We used to have lots of fun on those
+drives.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you, I didn't enjoy that 'court' at
+night. They got so tough on us you couldn't spit
+in camp, couldn't use no cuss words&mdash;they would
+sure 'put the leggin's on you' if you did!"</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Ben hitched his chair, and with much
+chuckling, recalled the "kangaroo court" the cowboys
+used to hold at night in camp. These impromptu
+courts were often all the fun the cowboys
+had during the long weeks of hunting stock in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>
+open range country.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it was all in fun. Just catch somebody
+so we could hold court! They would have two or
+three as a jury. They would use me as sheriff
+and appoint a judge. The prisoner was turned
+over to the judge and whatever he said, it had
+to be carried out exactly. The penalty? Well,
+sometimes&mdash;it was owing to the crime&mdash;but
+sometimes they would put it up to about twenty
+licks with the leggin's. If they was any bendin'
+trees, they would lay you across the log. They
+got tough, all right, but we sure had fun. We
+had to salute the boss every mornin', and if we
+forgot it...! They never forgot it that night;
+you'd sure get tried in court.</p>
+
+<p>"We camped on the side of a creek one time,
+and we had a new man, a sort of green fellow.
+This new man unsaddled his horse by the side of
+the creek and he lay down there. He had on a
+big pair of spurs, and I was watchin' him and
+studyin' up some kind of prank to play on 'im.
+So I went and got me a string and tied one of
+his spurs to his saddle and then I told the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>
+boss what I'd done and he had one of the fellows
+put a saddle on and tie tin cups and pots on it
+and then they commenced shootin' and yellin'.
+This man with the saddle on went pitchin' right
+toward that fellow, and that man got up, scared
+to death, and started to run. He run the length
+of the string and then fell down, but he didn't
+take time to get up; he went runnin' on his all-fours
+as fur as he could, till he drug the
+saddle to where it hung up. He woulda run right
+into the creek, but the saddle held 'im back. We
+didn't hold kangaroo court over that! Nobody
+knowed who did it. Of course, they all knowed,
+but they didn't let on. But nobody ever got in a
+bad humor; it didn't do no good.</p>
+
+<p>"I've stood up of many a bad night, dozin'.
+It would be two weeks, sometimes, before we got
+to lay down on our beds. I have stood up between
+the wagon wheel and the bed (of the wagon) and
+dozed many a night. Maybe one or two men would
+come in and doze an hour or two, but if the cattle
+were restless and ready to run, we had to be ready
+right now. Sho! Those stormy nights thunderin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>
+and lightnin'! You could just see the lightnin'
+all over the steers' horns and your horse's ears
+and mane too. It would dangle all up and down
+his mane. It never interfered with <span class="u">you</span> a-tall.
+And you could see it around the steer's horns
+in the herd, the lightnin' would dangle all over
+'em. If the hands (cowboys) or the relief could
+get to 'em before they got started to runnin',
+they could handle 'em; but if they got started
+first, they would be pretty hard to handle.</p>
+
+<p>"The first ranch I worked on after I left
+McNelly was on the <span class="u">Banqueta</span> on the <span class="u">Agua Dulce</span>
+Creek for the Miley boys, putting up a pasture
+fence. I worked there about two months, diggin'
+post holes. From there to the King Ranch for
+about four months, breaking horses. I kept
+travelin' east till I got back to Wharton, where
+my mother was. She died there in Wharton. I
+didn't stay with her very long. I went down to
+<span class="u">Tres Palacios</span> in Matagorda County. I did pasture
+work there, and cattle work. I worked for Mr.
+Moore for twelve years. Then he moved to Stockdale
+and I worked for him there eight years.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>
+From there, after I got through with Mr. Moore,
+I went back to <span class="u">Tres Palacios</span> and I worked there
+for first one man and then another. I think we
+have been here at Uvalde for about twenty-three
+years.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been the luckiest man in the world
+to have gone through what I have and not get
+hurt. I have never had but two horses to fall
+with me. I could ride all day right now and never
+tire. You never hear me say, 'I'm tired, I'm
+sleepy, I'm hongry.' And out in camp you never
+see me lay down when I come in to camp, or set
+down to eat, and if I <span class="u">do</span>, I set down on my foot.
+I always get my plate in my hand and eat standin'
+up, or lean against the wagon, maybe.</p>
+
+<p>"When Cap'n. McNelly taken sick and resigned,
+I traveled east and picked up jobs of work on
+ranches. The first work after I left the Rio
+Grande was on the <span class="u">Banqueta</span>, and then I went to
+work on the King Ranch about fifty miles southeast
+(?) of Brownsville. It wasn't fixed up in
+them days like it is now. But the territory is
+like it was then. They worked all Meskin hands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>
+They were working about twenty-five or thirty
+Meskins at the headquarters' ranch. And the
+main <span class="u">caporal</span> was a Meskin. His wages was top
+wages and he got twelve dollars a month. And
+the hands, if you was a real good hand, you got
+seven or eight dollars a month, and they would
+give you rations. They would furnish you all
+the meat you wanted and furnish you corn, but
+you would have to grind it yourself for bread.
+You know, like the Meskins make on a <span class="u">metate</span>.
+You could have all the home-made cheese you want,
+and milk. In them days, the Meskins didn't have
+sense enough to make butter. I seen better times
+them days than I am seein' now. We just had a
+home livin'. You could go out any time and kill
+you anything you wanted&mdash;turkeys, hogs, javalinas,
+deer, 'coons, 'possums, quail.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you about a Meskin ranch I worked
+on. It was a big lake. It covered, I reckin,
+fifty acres, and these little Meskin huts just
+surrounded that big lake. And fish! My goodness,
+you could just go down there and throw your hook
+in without a bait and catch a fish. That was what
+you call the <span class="u">Laguna de Chacona</span>. That was out from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>
+Brownsville about thirty-five miles. That ranch
+was owned by the old Meskin named Chacon, where
+the lake got its name.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems funny the way they handled milk
+calves&mdash;you know, the men-folks didn't milk
+cows, they wouldn't even fool with 'em. They
+would have a great big corral and maybe they
+would have fifteen or twenty cows and they would
+be four or five families go there to milk. Every
+calf would have a rawhide strap around his neck
+about six foot long. Now, instead of them makin'
+a calf pen&mdash;of evenin's the girls would go down
+there and I used to go help 'em&mdash;they would
+pull the calf up to the fence and stick the strap
+through a crack and pull the calf's head down
+nearly to the ground where he <a name='TC_40'></a><ins title="coudn't">couldn't</ins> suck. Of
+course, the old cow would hang around right close
+to the calf as she could git. When they let the
+calf suck, they'd leave 'im tied down so he couldn't
+suck in the night. They always kep' the cows up
+at night and they'd leave the calves in the pen
+with 'em, but tied down. But buildin' just what
+you call a calf pen, they'd set posts in the ground<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>
+just like these stock pens at the railroad and
+lay the poles between 'em. Then again, they
+would dig a trench and set mesquite poles so
+thick and deep, why, you couldn't push it down!</p>
+
+<p>"Now, in dry times, they would have a <span class="u">banvolete</span>
+(ban-bo-la-te). Hand me two of them
+sticks, mama. Now, you see, like here would be
+the well and you cut a long stick as long as you
+could get it, with a fork up here in this here
+pole, and have this here stick in the fork of
+the pole. They'd bolt the cross piece down in
+the fork of the pole that was put in the ground
+right by the well, and have it so it would work
+up and down. They'd be a weight tied on the end
+of the other pole and they could sure draw water
+in a hurry. I made one out here on the Anderson
+Ranch. Just as fast as you could let your bucket
+down, then jerk it up, you had the water up. The
+well had cross pieces of poles laid around it
+and cut to fit together.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, about the other way we had to draw
+water. We had a big well, only it was fenced
+around to keep cattle from gettin' in there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>
+The reason they had to do that, they had a big
+wheel with footpieces, like steps, to tread, and
+you would have the wheel over the well and they
+had about fifteen or twenty rawhide buckets
+fastened to a rope (that the wheel pulled it went
+around), and when they went down, they would go
+down in front of you. You had to sit down right
+behind the wheel, and you would push with your
+feet and pull with your hands, and the buckets
+came up behind you and as they went up, they would
+empty and go back down. They had some way of
+fixin' the rawhide. I think they toasted it, or
+scorched the hide to keep it hard so the water
+wouldn't soak it up and get it soft. That was on
+that place, the Chacona Lakes. That old Meskin
+was a native of the Rio Grande and run cattle and
+horses. In them days, you could buy an acre of
+land for fifty cents, river front, all the land
+you wanted. Now that land in that valley, you
+couldn't buy it for a hundred dollars an acre.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I tell you about diggin' that pit right
+in the fence of our corn patch to catch javalines?
+The way we done, why, we just dug a big pit right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>
+on the inside of the field, right against the
+fence, and whenever they would go through that
+hole to go in the corn patch, they would drop
+off in that hole. I think we caught nine, little
+and big, at one trappin' once. It was already
+an old trompin' place where they come in and out,
+and we had put the pit there. But after you use
+it, they won't come in there again.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I tell you about them brush fences.
+The deer had certain places to go to that fence
+to jump it, and after we found the regular jumpin'
+place, we would cut three sticks&mdash;pretty good
+size, about like your wrist, about three foot
+long&mdash;and peel 'em and scorch 'em in the fire
+and sharpen the ends right good and we would
+go to set our traps. We would put these three
+sharp sticks right about where the forefeet of
+the deer would hit. You'd just set the sticks
+about four inches from where his forefeet would
+hit the ground, and you'd set the sticks leanin'
+towards the brush fence, and they would be one
+in the center and two on the side and about two
+inches apart. When he jumped, you would sure get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>
+'im right about the point of the brisket. He'd
+hardly ever miss 'em, and you'd find 'im right
+there. Oh, sometimes he'd pull up a stick
+and run a piece with it, but he didn't run very
+far.</p>
+
+<p>"I been listenin' to the radio about Cap'n
+McNelly and I tell you it didn't sound right to
+me. In what way? Why, they never was no cattle
+on the steamboats down the Rio Grande. I just
+tell you they was no way of shippin' cattle on
+a steamboat. They couldn't get 'em down the hatch
+and they couldn't keep 'em on deck and they wasn't
+no wharf to load 'em, either. I was there and I
+seen them boats too long and I <span class="u">know</span> they never
+shipped no cattle on them steamboats. After they
+crossed the Rio Grand into Mexico, they might have
+been shipped from some port down there, but all
+them cattle they crossed was <span class="u">swum</span> across. They
+was big boats, but they wasn't no stock boats.
+They shipped lots of cotton on them steamboats,
+but they wasn't fixed to ship no cattle. They
+was up there for freight and passengers. The
+passengers was going on down the Gulf, maybe to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>
+New Orleans. They would get on at Brownsville.
+The steamboats couldn't go very fur up the river
+only in high water, but they could come up to
+Brownsville all the time.</p>
+
+<p>"I was in the Ranger service for about a
+year with Captain <a name='TC_41'></a><ins title="McNeely">McNelly</ins>, or until he died. I
+was his guide. I was living thirty-five miles
+above Brownsville. I was working for a man right
+there on the place by the name of John Cunningham.
+It was called Bare Stone. You see, hit
+was a ranch there. McNelly was stationed there
+after the government troops moved off. They had
+'em (the troops) there for a while, but they never
+did do no good, never did make a raid on nothin'.
+I was twenty or twenty-one. How come me to get
+in with McNelly, they had a big meadow there, a
+big 'permuda' (Bermuda) grass meadow. Me and
+another fellow used to go in there, and John Cunningham
+furnished Cap'n McNelly hay for his horses.
+That's how come me to get in with 'im. Fin'ly,
+he found out I knew all about that country and
+sometimes he would come over there and get me to
+map off a road, though they wasn't but one main<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>
+road right there. So, one day I was over in the
+camp with 'im and I say, 'Cap'n, how would you
+like to give me a job to work with you?' He
+said, 'I'd like to have you all right, but you
+couldn't come here on state pay, and under <span class="u">no
+responsibility</span>.' I told 'im that was all right.
+I knew how I was going to get my money, 'cause
+I gambled. Sometimes I would have a hundred or
+a hundred, twenty-five dollars. Durin' the month
+I would win from the soljers dealin' monte or
+playin' seven-up. They wasn't no craps in them
+days. We played luck too; we never had no shenanigans,
+a-stealin' a man's money. If you had a good
+streak o' luck, you made good; if you didn't, you
+was out o' luck. Sometimes, I had up as high as
+twenty-five or thirty dollars.</p>
+
+
+<p>"One thing about the cap'n, he'd tell his
+men&mdash;well, we had a sutler's shop right across
+from our camp, all kinds of good drinks&mdash;and he
+would tell his men he didn't care how much they
+drank but he didn't want any of 'em fighting'.
+He kep' 'em under good control.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, they was all dependin' on me for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>
+guidin'. There was no way for them cow rustlers
+or bandits to get to the cow ranches after they
+crossed the river (Rio Grande) excep' to cross
+that road for there was no other way for 'em
+to get out there. You see, there was where it
+would be easy for me, pickin' up a trail. I
+would just follow that road on if I had a certain
+distance to go, and if I didn't find no trail
+I would come back and report, and if I would
+find a trail he would ask me how many they was
+and where they was goin', and I would tell 'im
+which way, 'cause I didn't know exactly where
+they was goin' to round-up. He would always
+give 'em about two or three days to make the
+round-up from the time that trail crossed.
+And we always went to meet 'em, or catch 'em at
+the river. We got into two or three real bad
+combats.</p>
+
+<p>"The worst one was on Palo Alto Prairie,
+one of Santa Anna's battle grounds. About
+twelve or fifteen miles east of old Brownsville.
+They was sixteen of the bandits and they was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>
+fifteen of 'em killed&mdash;all Meskins excep' one
+white man. One Meskin escaped. The cap'n just
+put 'em all up together in a pile and sent a
+message to Brownsville to the authorities and
+told 'em where they was at and what shape they
+was in. They must have had two hundred or two
+hundred and twenty-five head (of cattle) with
+'em. It was open country and they would get
+anybody's cattle. They just got 'em off the
+range.</p>
+
+<p>"They mostly would cross that road at night,
+and by me gettin' out early next mornin' and
+findin' that trail, I could tell pretty much
+how old it was. I reckon that place wasn't
+over thirteen miles from Brownsville and our
+camp was thirty-five miles, I guess it must
+have been twenty-five miles from our camp to
+where we had that battle. We sure went there
+to get 'em. I trailed them horses and I knowed
+from the direction they was takin' that they
+was goin' to those big lakes called Santa Lalla.
+They was between Point Isabel and Brownsville<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>
+and that made us about a forty-five mile ride
+to get to that crossin', to a place called
+Bagdad, right on the waters of the Rio Grande.</p>
+
+<p>"We got our lunch at Brownsville and
+started out to go to this crossin'. I knowed
+right about where this crossin' was and I says
+to the cap'n, 'Don't you reckon I better go
+and see if they was any sign?' We stayed
+there about three hours and didn't hear a
+thing. And then the cap'n said, 'Boys, we
+better eat our lunch'. While we was eatin',
+we heard somebody holler, and he said, 'Boys,
+there they are.' And he said to me, 'Ben, you
+want to stay with the horses or be in the fun?'
+And I said, 'I don't care.' So he said, 'You
+better stay with the horses; you ain't paid to
+kill Meskins! I went out to where the horses
+were. The rangers were afoot in the brush.
+It was about an hour from the time we heard the
+fellow holler before the cattle got there.
+When the rangers placed themselves on the side
+of the road, the Meskins didn't know what they
+was goin' to get into!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The Meskins was all singin' at the top of
+their voices and they was comin' on in. The
+cap'n waited till they went to crossin' the herd,
+he waited till these rustlers all got into the
+river behind the cattle, and then the cap'n
+opened fire on the bandits. They didn't have
+no possible show. They was in the water, and
+he just floated 'em down the river. They was
+one man got away. I saw 'im later, and he told
+me about it. The way he got away, he says he
+was a good swimmer and he just fell off his
+horse in the water and the swift water took 'im
+down and he just kep' his nose out of the water
+and got away that way. They was fo'teen in
+that bunch, I know.</p>
+
+<p>"The echo of the shootin' turned the cattle
+back to the American side. The lead cattle was
+just gettin' ready to hit the other side of the
+river when the shootin' taken place and the
+echo of the shootin' turned 'em and they come
+back across. Now, in swimmin' a bunch of cattle,
+if you pop your whip, you are just as liable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>
+to turn 'em back, or if you holler the echo
+might turn 'em back. It'll do that nearly
+every time.</p>
+
+<p>"After the fight, the cap'n says to the
+boys, 'Well, boys, the fun is all over now,
+I guess we'd better start back to camp.' And
+they all mounted their horses and begun
+singin':</p>
+
+<p>
+"O, bury me not on the lone prairie-e-e<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me-e-e,</span><br />
+Right where all the Meskins ought to be-e-e!"<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420949" id="n420949"></a>420949</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/162285v.png">
+<img src="images/162285r.png" width="200" height="300" alt="Mary Kindred" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">Mary Kindred</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>MARY KINDRED was a slave on
+the Luke Hadnot plantation
+in Jasper, Texas. She does
+not know her age but thinks
+she is about 80. She now
+lives in Beaumont, Texas.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"My mind don't dwell back. The older I gits the lessen
+I thinks 'bout the old times. I ain't gittin' old. I's done got old.
+I not been one of them bad, outlawed fellers, so de good Lawd done 'low
+me live a long time. Some things I knows I heered from my mother and
+my grandma. They so fresh to them in that time, though, I mostly sure
+they's truth.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother name was Hannah Hadnot and my daddy was Ruffin
+Hadnot and he used to carry the mail from Weiss Bluff to Jasper. They
+waylay him 'long the road in 1881 and kill him and rob the mail.</p>
+
+<p>"Luke Hadnot was our old massa. He good to my grandma and
+give her license for a doctor woman. Old massa must of thought lots
+of her, 'cause he give her forty acres of land and a home fer herself.
+That house still standin' up there in Jasper, yet.</p>
+
+<p>"Grandma used to sing a li'l song to us, like this:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'One mornin' in May,<br />
+I spies a beautiful dandy,<br />
+A-rakin' way of de hay.<br />
+I asks her to marry.<br />
+She say, scornful, 'No.'<br />
+But befo' six months roll by<br />
+Her apron strings wouldn't tie<br />
+She wrote me a letter,<br />
+She marry me then,<br />
+I say, no, no, my gal, not I.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Grandma git de bark offen de thorn tree and bile it with
+turpentine for de toothache. She used herbs for de medicine and they's
+good.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Old missy was tall and slim, a rawbone sort of woman. Her name
+was Matilda Hadnot. Massa have as big a still as ever I seed and dey used
+to make everything there. They has it civered with boards they rive out
+the woods. There wasn't no revenuers in dem days.</p>
+
+<p>"Us gits de groceries by steamboat and the wagons go down the old
+Bevilport Road to the steamboat landin'. That the Ang'leen River. One
+the biggest boats was own by Capt. Bryce Hadnot, the 'Old Grim.'</p>
+
+<p>"I 'member back durin' the war the people couldn't git no coffee.
+They used to take bran and peanuts and okra seed and sich and parch 'em
+for coffee. It make right drinkable coffee. They gits sugar from the
+store or the sugar cane. When they buy it, it's in a big, white lump
+what they calls 'sugar loaf.' When they has no sugar they uses the syrup
+to sweeten the coffee and they call syrup 'long sweetenin' and sugar,
+'short sweetenin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Us has lots of dances with fiddle and 'corjum player. Us
+sing, 'Swing you partner, Promenade.' Another li'l song start out:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Dinah got a meat skin lay away,<br />
+Grease dat wooden leg, Dinah.<br />
+Grease dat wooden leg, Dinah.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shake dat wooden leg, Dinah,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shake dat wooden leg, Dinah.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>I 'members this song:</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Down in Shiloh town,<br />
+Down in Shiloh town,<br />
+De old grey mare come<br />
+Tearin' out de wilderness.<br />
+Down in Shiloh town,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O, boys, O,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O, boys, O,</span><br />
+Down in Shiloh town.'<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I's seed lots of blue gum niggers and they say iffen they bite you
+dey pizen you. They hands diff'rent from other niggers. Now, my hand's
+right smart white in the inside, but blue gum nigger hand is more browner
+on the inside.</p>
+
+<p>"I used to have a old aunt name Harriett and iffen she tell you
+anythin' you kin jes' put it down it gwineter come out like she say. She
+have the big mole on the inside her mouth and when she shake her finger at
+you it gwine happen to you jes' like she say. That <a name='TC_42'></a><ins title="whay">what</ins> they call puttin'
+bad mouth on them and she sho' could do it.</p>
+
+<p>"I's had 12 chillen. My first husban was Anthony Adams and the
+last Alfred Kindred. I only got three chillen livin' now, though. One
+of the sons am the outer door guard of the lodge here in Beaumont.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420311" id="n420311"></a>420311</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro"><p>NANCY KING, 93, was born in
+Upshur County, Texas, a slave
+of William Jackson. She and
+her husband moved to Marshall,
+Texas, in 1866. Nancy now
+lives with her daughter, Lucy
+Staples.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"I was borned and raised on William Jackson's place, jus' twelve miles
+east of Gilmer. I was growed and had one child at surrender, and my mother
+told me I was a woman of my own when Old Missie sot us free, jus' after surrender,
+so you can figurate my age from that.</p>
+
+<p>"My first child was borned the January befo' surrender in June, and I
+'members hoeing in the field befo' the war come on. Massa William raised lots
+of cotton and corn and tobacco and most everything we et. I never worked in
+the field, 'cept to chase the calves in, till I was most growed. Massa was
+good to us. Course, I never went to school, but Old Missie sent my brother,
+Alex, two years after the war, with her own chillen.</p>
+
+<p>"I was married durin' the war and it was at church, with a white
+preacher. Old Missie give me the cloth and dye for my weddin' dress and my
+mother spun and dyed the cloth, and I made it. It was homespun but nothin'
+cheap 'bout it for them days. After the weddin' massa give us a big dinner
+and we had a time.</p>
+
+<p>"Massa done all the bossin' his own self. He never whipped me, but
+Old Missie had to switch me a little for piddlin' round, 'stead of doin' what
+she said. Every Sat'day night we had a candy pullin' and played games, and
+allus had plenty of clothes and shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"I seed the soldiers comin' and gwine to the war, and 'members when
+Massa William left to go fight for the South. His boy, Billie, was sixteen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>
+and tended the place while massa's away. Massa done say he'd let the niggers
+go without fightin'. He didn't think war was right, but he had to go. He
+'serts and comes home befo' the war gits goin' good and the soldiers come after
+him. He run off to the bottoms, but they was on hosses and overtook him. I was
+there in the room when they brung him back. One of them says, 'Jackson, we
+ain't gwine take you with us now, but we'll fix you so you can't run off till
+we git back.' They put red pepper in his eyes and left. Missie cried. They
+come back for him in a day or two and made my father saddle up Hawk-eye, massa's
+best hoss. Then they rode away and we never seed massa 'gain. One day my
+brother, Alex, hollers out, 'Oh, Missie, yonder is the hoss, at the gate, and
+ain't nobody ridin' him.' Missie throwed up her hands and says, 'O, Lawdy, my
+husban' am dead!' She knowed somehow when he left he wasn't comin' back.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Missie freed us but said we had a home as long as she did. Me and
+my husban' stays 'bout a year, but my folks stays till she marries 'gain.</p>
+
+<p>"My brother-in-law, Sam Pitman, tells us how he put one by the Ku
+Kluxers. Him and some niggers was out one night and the Kluxers chases them on
+hosses. They run down a narrow road and tied four strands of grapevine 'cross
+the road, 'bout breast high to a hoss. The Kluxers come gallopin' down that
+road and when the hosses hit that grapevine, it throwed them every which way
+and broke some their arms. Sam used to laugh and tell how them Kluxers cussed
+them niggers.</p>
+
+<p>"Me and my husban' come to Marshall the year after surrender, and I is
+lived here every since. My man works on farms till he got on the railroad. I's
+been married four times and raised six chillen. The young people is diff'rent
+from what we was, but diff'rent times calls for diff'rent ways, I 'spect. My
+chillen allus done the best they could by me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="number"><a name="n420272" id="n420272"></a>420272</div>
+
+
+<div class="intro">SILVIA KING, French Negress of
+Marlin, Texas, does not know her
+age, but says that she was born
+in Morocco. She was stolen from
+her husband and three children,
+brought to the United States and
+sold into slavery. Silvia has the
+appearance of extreme age, and
+may be close to a hundred years
+old, as she thinks she is, because
+of her memories of the children
+she never saw again and of
+the slave ship.</div>
+
+
+<p>"I know I was borned in Morocco, in Africa, and was married
+and had three chillen befo' I was stoled from my husband. I don't know
+who it was stole me, but dey took me to France, to a place called Bordeaux,
+and drugs me with some coffee, and when I knows anything 'bout it, I's
+in de bottom of a boat with a whole lot of other niggers. It seem like
+we was in dat boat forever, but we comes to land, and I's put on de block
+and sold. I finds out afterwards from my white folks it was in New
+Orleans where dat block was, but I didn't know it den.</p>
+
+<p>"We was all chained and dey strips all our clothes off and de folks
+what gwine buy us comes round and feels us all over. Iffen any de niggers
+don't want to take dere clothes off, de man gits a long, black whip
+and cuts dem up hard. I's sold to a planter what had a big plantation
+in Fayette County, right here in Texas, don't know no name 'cept Marse
+Jones.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse Jones, he am awful good, but de overseer was de meanest man
+I ever knowed, a white man name Smith, what boasts 'bout how many niggers
+he done kilt. When Marse Jones seed me on de block, he say, 'Dat's a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
+whale of a woman.' I's scairt and can't say nothin', 'cause I can't speak
+English. He buys some more slaves and dey chains us together and marches us
+up near La Grange, in Texas. Marse Jones done gone on ahead and de overseer
+marches us. Dat was a awful time, 'cause us am all chained up and whatever
+one does us all has to do. If one drinks out of de stream we all drinks, and
+when one gits tired or sick, de rest has to drag and carry him. When us git
+to Texas, Marse Jones raise de debbil with dat white man what had us on da
+march. He git de doctor man and tell de cook to feed us and lets us rest up.</p>
+
+<p>"After 'while, Marse Jones say to me, 'Silvia, am you married?' I tells
+him I got a man and three chillen back in de old country, but he don't understand
+my talk and I has a man give to me. I don't bother with dat nigger's
+name much, he jes' Bob to me. But I fit him good and plenty till de overseer
+shakes a blacksnake whip over me.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse Jones and Old Miss finds out 'bout my cookin' and takes me to de
+big house to cook for dem. De dishes and things was awful queer to me, to
+what I been brung up to use in France. I mostly cooks after dat, but I's de
+powerful big woman when I's young and when dey gits in a tight <i>[Handwritten Note: 'place?']</i> I helps out.</p>
+
+<p>"'Fore long Marse Jones 'cides to move. He allus say he gwine git where
+he can't hear he neighbor's cowhorn, and he do. Dere ain't nothin' but woods
+and grass land, no houses, no roads, no bridges, no neighbors, nothin' but
+woods and wild animals. But he builds a mighty fine house with a stone chimney
+six foot square at de bottom. The sill was a foot square and de house am made
+of logs, but dey splits out two inch plank and puts it outside de logs, from de
+ground clean up to de eaves. Dere wasn't no nails, but dey whittles out pegs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
+Dere was a well out de back and a well on de back porch by de kitchen door.
+It had a wheel and a rope. Dere was 'nother well by de barns and one or two
+round de quarters, but dey am fixed with a long pole sweep. In de kitchen
+was de big fireplace and de big back logs am haul to de house. De oxen pull
+dem dat far and some men takes poles and rolls dem in de fireplace. Marse
+Jones never 'low dat fire go out from October till May, and in de fall Marse
+or one he sons lights de fire with a flint rock and some powder.</p>
+
+<p>"De stores was a long way off and de white folks loans seed and
+things to each other. If we has de toothache, de blacksmith pulls it. My
+husband manages de ox teams. I cooks and works in Old Miss's garden and de
+orchard. It am big and fine and in fruit time all de women works from light
+to dark dryin' and 'servin' and de like.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Marse gwine feed you and see you quarters am dry and warm
+or know de reason why. Most ev'ry night he goes round de quarters to see
+if dere any sickness or trouble. Everybody work hard but have plenty to eat.
+Sometimes de preacher tell us how to git to hebben and see de ring lights
+dere.</p>
+
+<p>"De smokehouse am full of bacon sides and cure hams and barrels
+lard and 'lasses. When a nigger want to eat, he jes' ask and git he passel.
+Old Miss allus 'pend on me to spice de ham when it cure. I larnt dat back
+in de old country, in France.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere was spinnin' and weavin' cabins, long with a chimney in each
+end. Us women spins all de thread and weaves cloth for everybody, de white
+folks, too. I's de cook, but times I hit de spinnin' loom and wheel fairly
+good. Us bleach de cloth and dyes it with barks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dere allus de big woodpile in de yard, and de big, caboose kettle
+for renderin' hawg fat and beef tallow candles and makin' soap. Marse allus
+have de niggers take some apples and make cider, and he make beer, too. Most
+all us had cider and beer when we want it, but nobody git drunk. Marse sho'
+cut up if we do.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Miss have de floors sanded, dat where you sprinkles fine, white sand
+over da floor and sweeps it round in all kinds purty figgers. Us make a corn
+shuck broom.</p>
+
+<p>"Marse sho' a fool 'bout he hounds and have a mighty fine pack. De
+boys hunts wolves and painters (panthers) and wild game like dat. Dere was
+lots of wild turkey and droves of wild prairie chickens. Dere was rabbits
+and squirrels and Indian puddin', make of cornmeal. It am real tasty. I cooks
+goose and pork and mutton and bear meat and beef and deer meat, den makes
+de fritters and pies and dumplin's. Sho' wish us had dat food now.</p>
+
+<p>"On de cold winter night I's sot many a time spinnin' with two threads,
+one in each hand and one my feets on de wheel and de baby sleepin' on my lap.
+De boys and old men was allus whittlin' and it wasn't jes' foolishment. Dey
+whittles traps and wooden spoons and needles to make seine nets and checkers
+and sleds. We all sits workin' and singin' and smokin' pipes. I likes my
+pipe right now, and has two clay pipes and keeps dem under de pillow. I don't
+aim for dem pipes to git out my sight. I been smokin' clost to a hunerd years
+now and it takes two cans tobaccy de week to keep me goin'.</p>
+
+<p>"Dere wasn't many doctors dem days, but allus de closet full of simples
+(home remedies) and most all de old women could git med'cine out de woods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>
+Ev'ry spring, Old Miss line up all de chillen and give dem a dose of garlic
+and rum.</p>
+
+<p>"De chillen all played together, black and white. De young ones purty
+handy trappin' quail and partridges and sech. Dey didn't shoot if dey could
+cotch it some other way, 'cause powder and lead am scarce. Dey cotch de deer
+by makin' de salt lick, and uses a spring pole to cotch pigeons and birds.</p>
+
+<p>"De black folks gits off down in de bottom and shouts and sings and
+prays. Dey gits in de ring dance. It am jes' a kind of shuffle, den it git
+faster and faster and dey gits warmed up and moans and shouts and claps and
+dances. Some gits 'xhausted and drops out and de ring gits closer. Sometimes
+dey sings and shouts all night, but come break of day, de nigger got to git
+to he cabin. Old Marse got to tell dem de tasks of de day.</p>
+
+<p>"Old black Tom have a li'l bottle and have spell roots and water in
+it and sulphur. He sho' could find out if a nigger gwine git whipped. He
+have a string tie round it and say, 'By sum Peter, by sum Paul, by de Gawd
+dat make us all, Jack don't you tell me no lie, if marse gwine whip Mary,
+tell me.' Sho's you born, if dat jack turn to de laft, de nigger git de
+whippin', but if marse ain't makeup he mind to whip, dat jack stand and quiver.</p>
+
+<p>"You white folks jes' go through de woods and don't know nothin'.
+Iffen you digs out splinters from de north side a old pine tree what been
+struck by lightnin', and gits dem hot in a iron skillet and burns dem to
+ashes, den you puts dem in a brown paper sack. Iffen de officers gits you
+and you gwine have it 'fore de jedge, you gits de sack and goes outdoors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>
+at midnight and hold de bag of ashes in you hand and look up at de moon&mdash;but
+don't you open you mouth. Nex' mornin' git up early and go to de courthouse
+and sprinkle dem ashes in de doorway and dat law trouble, it gwine git
+tore up jes' like de lightnin' done tore up dat tree.</p>
+
+<p>"De shoestring root am powerful strong. Iffen you chews on it and
+spits a ring round de person what you wants somethin' from, you gwine git
+it. You can git more money or a job or most anythin' dat way. I had a black
+cat bone, too, but it got away from me.</p>
+
+<p>"I's got a big frame and used to weigh a hunerd pounds, but day tells
+me I only weighs a hunerd now. Dis Louis Southern I lives with, he's de
+youngest son of my grandson, who was de son of my youngest daughter. My marse,
+he knowed Gen. Houston and I seed him many a time. I lost what teeth I had
+a long time ago and in 1920 two more new teeth come through. Dem teeth sho'
+did worry me and I's glad when dey went, too.</p>
+
+
+<div class="trnote">
+<a name="Transcribers_Corrections"></a>
+<h2>List of Transcriber's Corrections:</h2>
+
+<p><a href='#TC_1'>List of Illustrations</a>: 285 (<b>290</b>)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_2'>Page 2</a>: come (wooden dishes. Some de knives and forks was make out of bone. Dey had beef and pork and turkey and <b>some</b> antelope.)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_3'>Page 4</a>: bit (all through dat house. I takes de lantern and out in de hall I goes. Right by de foot de stairs I seed a woman, <b>big</b> as life, but she was thin and I seed right through her. She jes' walk on down dat hall and pay me no mind. She make de sound)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_4'>Page 7</a>: was that a (slavery, 'cause massa give me a sack of molasses candy once and some biscuits once and that <b>was a</b> whole lot to me then.)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_5'>Page 9</a>: kepps (daren't tell them 'cept on the sly. That I done lots. I tells 'em iffen they <b>keeps</b> prayin' the Lord will set 'em free. But since them days I's done studied some and I preached all over Panola and Harrison County and)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_6'>Page 18</a>: bit (piles, one for de big house and de bigges' pile for de slaves. When dey git it all hauled it look like a <b>big</b> woodyard. While dey is haulin', de women make quilts and dey is wool quilts. Course, dey ain't made out of shearin' wool,)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_7'>Page 19</a>: sich (Course, I hears some talk 'bout bluebellies, what dey call de Yanks, fightin' our folks, but dey wasn't fightin' round us. Den one dey mamma took <b>sick</b> and she had hear talk and call me to de bed and say, 'Lucinda, we all gwine be free soon and not)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_8'>Page 24</a>: neber ("I seem jes' punyin' away, de doctors don' know jes' what's wrong wid me but I <b>never</b> was use to doctors anyway, jes' some red root tea or sage weed and sheep)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_9'>Page 29</a>: was ("After <b>war</b> was over, old massa call us up and told us we free but he 'vise not leave de place till de crop was through. Us all stay. Den)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_10'>Page 30</a>: suddent (for justice. One man, he look jus' like ordinary man, but he spring up 'bout eighteen feet high all of a <b>sudden</b>. Another say he so thirsty he ain't have no water since he been kilt at Manassas Junction. He ask)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_11'>Page 42</a>:  (what lives at West Columbia. Massa Kit on one side Varney's Creek and Massa Charles on de other side. Massa Kit have a <b>African</b> woman from Kentucky for he wife, and dat's de truth. I ain't sayin' iffen she a)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_12'>Page 43</a>: goiin' (Where you gwine to go?<br /> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">I's <b>goin'</b> down to new ground,</span><br /> For to hunt Jim Crow.')</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_13'>Page 71</a>: hus' ("We lived in a log house with dirt floors, warm in winter but sho' hot in summer, no screens or nothin', <b>jus'</b> homemade doors. We had homemade beds out of planks they picked up around. Mattresses nothin', we had shuck beds.)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_14'>Page 72</a>: bit (whole sack of pure gold and silver, and say bury it in de orchard. I sho' was scart, but I done what she said. Dey was more gold in a <b>big</b> desk, and de Yanks pulled de top of dat desk and got de gold. Miss Jane had a purty gold ring on)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_15'>Page 79</a>: of (the place, they still go up to the big house for a pass. They jus' can't understand 'bout the freedom. Old Marse <b>or</b>Missus say, 'You don't need no pass. All you got to do is jus' take you foot in you hand and go.')</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_16'>Page 84</a>: ahd ("They had a church this side of New Fountain <b>and</b> the boss man 'lowed us to go on Sunday. If any of the slaves did join, they didn')</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_17'>Page 99</a>: of (cornmeal mush and corn hominy and corn grits and parched corn for drink, 'stead of tea <b>or</b> coffee. Us have milk and 'lasses and brown sugar, and some meat. Dat all raise on de place. Stuff for to eat and wear, dat)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_18'>Page 114</a>: Pennslyvania (my sister and got in the soldier business. The gov'ment give me $30.00 a month for drivin' a four-mule wagon for the army. I druv all through <b>Pennsylvania</b> and Virginia and South Carolina for the gov'ment. I was a&mdash;&mdash;what)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_19'>Page 116</a>: Sue ("My mother sold into slavery in Georgia, or round dere. <b>She</b> tell me funny things 'bout how dey use to do up dere. A old white man think so much of)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_20'>Page 123</a>: turpentime (doctor. When us chillun git sick dey git yarbs or dey give us castor oil and <b>turpentine</b>. Iffen it git to be a ser'ous ailment dey sen' for de reg'lar doctor. Dey uster)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_21'>Page 130</a>: Missisippi (Hedwig, Bexar Co., Texas, the son of slave parents bought in <b>Mississippi</b> by his master, William Gudlow.)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_22'>Page 133</a>: Hallejujah! (crossin' and walkin' and ridin'. Everyone was a-singin'. We was all walkin' on golden clouds. <b>Hallelujah!</b>)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_23'>Page 140</a>: tey ("I's too old to make any more visits, but I would like to go back to Old Georgia once more. If Missy Mary was 'live, I'd <b>try</b>, but she am dead, so I tries to wait for old Gabriel blow he horn. When he blow he)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_24'>Page 141</a>: 1959 ("When I's a gal, I's Rosina Slaughter, but folks call me Zina. Yes, sar. It am Zina dat and Zina dis. I says I's born April 9, <b>1859</b>, but I 'lieve I's older. It was somewhere in Williamson County, but I don't)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_25'>Page 145</a>: mercy me (when we got a chance to see young folks on some other place. The patterrollers cotched me one night and, Lawd have <b>mercy on me</b>, they stretches me over a log and hits thirty-nine licks with a rawhide loaded with rock, and every time they hit)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_26'>Page 147</a>: ot ("I's farmed and makin' a livin' is 'bout all. I come over here in Madison County and rents from B.F. Young, clost <b>to</b> Midway and gits me a few cows. I been right round here ever since. I lives round with my chillen now,)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_27'>Page 158</a>: Whnen ("<b>When</b> surrender come massa calls all us in de yard and makes de talk. He tells us we's free and am awful sorry and show great worryment. He say)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_28'>Page 166</a>: live (is cared for by a married daughter, who <b>lives</b> on Lizzie's farm.)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_29'>Page 171</a>: nand (to tell the people to be prepared, 'cause the tides of war is rollin' this way, <b>and</b> all the thousands of millions of dollars they spend agin it ain't goin' to stop it. I live to tell people the word Gawd speaks through me.)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_30'>Page 195</a>: wuarters ('bout fightin' and the overseer allus tended to her. One day he come to the <b>quarters</b> to whip her and she up and throwed a shovel full of live coals from the fireplace in his bosom and run out the door. He run her all over)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_31'>Page 199</a>: tann ("After breakfast I'd see a crew go here and a crew go dere. Some of 'em spin and weave and make clothes, and some <b>tan</b> de leather or do de blacksmith work, and mos' of 'em go out in de field to work. Dey works till dark and den)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_32'>Page 200</a>: botin' ("No, I's never voted, 'cause I done heared 'bout de trouble dey has over in Baton Rouge 'bout niggers <b>votin'</b>. I jus' don't like trouble, and for de few years what am left, I's gwine keep de record of stayin' 'way from it.)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_33'>Page 221</a>: be ("Old massa he never clean hisself up or dress up. He look like a vagrant thing and <b>he</b> and missy mean, too. My pore daddy he back allus done cut up from the whip and bit by the dogs. Sometime when a woman big)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_34'>Page 235</a>: stockn's (and I come in with two li'l pickininnies for flower gals and holdin' my train. I has on one Miss Ellen's dresses and red <b>stockin's</b> and a pair brand new shoes and a wide brim hat. De preacher say, 'Bill, does you take dis woman to be you lawful)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_35'>Page 236</a>: dey (jes' kep' right on livin' in de old home after freedom, like old Marse done 'fore freedom. He pay de families by de <b>day</b> for work and let dem work land on de halves and furnish dem teams and grub and dey does de work.)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_36'>Page 242</a>: iplot ("My daddy am de gold <b>pilot</b> on de old place. Dat mean anything he done was right and proper. Way after freedom, when my daddy die in Beaumont,)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_37'>Page 254</a>: wat ("I never heered much 'bout no <b>war</b> and Marse Greenville never told us we was free. First I knows was one day we gwine to de fields and a man)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_38'>Page 258</a>: Bermingham ("My company am moved to <b>Birmingham</b> and builds breastworks. Dey say Gen. Lee am comin' for a battle but he didn't ever come and when I been back)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_39'>Page 258</a>: to (a three hundred pound hawg in de pen, what die from de heat. We done run to Massa Rodger's house. De riders gits <b>so</b> bad dey come most any time and run de cullud folks off for no cause, jus' to be orn'ry and plunder de home. But one)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_40'>Page 273</a>: coudn't (through a crack and pull the calf's head down nearly to the ground where he <b>couldn't</b> suck. Of course, the old cow would hang around right close)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_41'>Page 278</a>: McNeely ("I was in the Ranger service for about a year with Captain <b>McNelly</b>, or until he died. I was his guide. I was living thirty-five miles)</p>
+<p><a href='#TC_42'>Page 287</a>: whay (have the big mole on the inside her mouth and when she shake her finger at you it gwine happen to you jes' like she say. That <b>what</b> they call puttin' bad mouth on them and she sho' could do it.)</p>
+
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
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+
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@@ -0,0 +1,9432 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery
+in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves., by Work Projects Administration
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves.
+       Texas Narratives, Part 2
+
+Author: Work Projects Administration
+
+Release Date: January 14, 2010 [EBook #30967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES, TEXAS, PART 2 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Miranda van de Heijning and The Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
+  |                                                              |
+  | Transcriber's Note:                                          |
+  |                                                              |
+  | I. Inconsistent punctuation and capitalisation has been      |
+  | silently corrected throughout the book.                      |
+  |                                                              |
+  | II. Clear spelling mistakes have been corrected however,     |
+  | inconsistent language usage (such as 'day' and 'dey') has    |
+  | been maintained. Inconsistent spelling of place names and    |
+  | personal names has also been retained. A list of corrections |
+  | is included at the end of the book.                          |
+  |                                                              |
+  | III. Handwritten corrections have been incorporated within   |
+  | the text. Exceptions are notes which were just question      |
+  | marks or were followed by question marks: these have been    |
+  | explicitly included as 'Handwritten Notes'.                  |
+  |                                                              |
+  | IV. The numbers at the start of each interview were stamped  |
+  | into the original work and refer to the number of the        |
+  | published interview in the context of the entire Slave       |
+  | Narratives project.                                          |
+  |                                                              |
+  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+  SLAVE NARRATIVES
+
+  _A Folk History of Slavery in the United States
+  from Interviews with Former Slaves_
+
+  TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY
+  THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT
+  1936-1938
+  ASSEMBLED BY
+  THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT
+  WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION
+  FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
+  SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
+
+  _Illustrated with Photographs_
+
+
+  WASHINGTON 1941
+
+
+
+
+  VOLUME XVI
+
+  TEXAS NARRATIVES
+
+  PART 2
+
+
+  Prepared by the Federal Writers' Project of the Works Progress
+  Administration for the State of Texas
+
+
+
+
+  INFORMANTS
+
+
+  Easter, Willis                          1
+
+  Edwards, Anderson and Minerva           5
+
+  Edwards, Ann J.                        10
+
+  Edwards, Mary Kincheon                 15
+
+  Elder, Lucinda                         17
+
+  Ellis, John                            21
+
+  Ezell, Lorenza                         25
+
+  Farrow, Betty                          33
+
+  Finnely, John                          35
+
+  Ford, Sarah                            41
+
+  Forward, Millie                        47
+
+  Fowler, Louis                          50
+
+  Franklin, Chris                        55
+
+  Franks, Orelia Alexie                  60
+
+  Frazier, Rosanna                       63
+
+
+  Gibson, Priscilla                      66
+
+  Gilbert, Gabriel                       68
+
+  Gilmore, Mattie                        71
+
+  Goodman, Andrew                        74
+
+  Grant, Austin                          81
+
+  Green, James                           87
+
+  Green, O.W.                            90
+
+  Green, Rosa                            94
+
+  Green, William (Rev. Bill)             96
+
+  Grice, Pauline                         98
+
+
+  Hadnot, Mandy                         102
+
+  Hamilton, William                     106
+
+  Harper, Pierce                        109
+
+  Harrell, Molly                        115
+
+  Hawthorne, Ann                        118
+
+  Hayes, James                          126
+
+  Haywood, Felix                        130
+
+  Henderson, Phoebe                     135
+
+  Hill, Albert                          137
+
+  Hoard, Rosina                         141
+
+  Holland, Tom                          144
+
+  Holman, Eliza                         148
+
+  Holt, Larnce                          151
+
+  Homer, Bill                           153
+
+  Hooper, Scott                         157
+
+  Houston, Alice                        159
+
+  Howard, Josephine                     163
+
+  Hughes, Lizzie                        166
+
+  Hursey, Moses                         169
+
+  Hurt, Charley                         172
+
+
+  Ingram, Wash                          177
+
+
+  Jackson, Carter J.                    180
+
+  Jackson, James                        182
+
+  Jackson, Maggie                       185
+
+  Jackson, Martin                       187
+
+  Jackson, Nancy                        193
+
+  Jackson, Richard                      195
+
+  James, John                           198
+
+  Johns, Thomas                         201
+
+  Johns, Mrs. Thomas                    205
+
+  Johnson, Gus                          208
+
+  Johnson, Harry                        212
+
+  Johnson, James D.                     216
+
+  Johnson, Mary                         219
+
+  Johnson, Mary Ellen                   223
+
+  Johnson, Pauline,
+       and Boudreaux, Felice            225
+
+  Johnson, Spence                       228
+
+  Jones, Harriet                        231
+
+  Jones, Lewis                          237
+
+  Jones, Liza                           241
+
+  Jones, Lizzie                         246
+
+  Jones, Toby                           249
+
+
+  Kelly, Pinkie                         253
+
+  Kilgore, Sam                          255
+
+  Kinchlow, Ben                         260
+
+  Kindred, Mary                         285
+
+  King, Nancy                           288
+
+  King, Silvia                          290
+
+
+
+
+  ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                Facing page
+
+  Anderson and Minerva Edwards            5
+
+  Ann J. Edwards                         10
+
+  Mary Kincheon Edwards                  15
+
+  John Ellis                             21
+
+  Lorenza Ezell                          25
+
+  Betty Farrow                           33
+
+  Sarah Ford                             41
+
+  Louis Fowler                           50
+
+  Orelia Alexie Franks                   60
+
+  Priscilla Gibson                       66
+
+  Andrew Goodman                         74
+
+  Austin Grant                           81
+
+  James Green                            87
+
+  O.W. Green and Granddaughter           90
+
+  William Green, (Rev. Bill)             96
+
+  Pauline Grice                          98
+
+  Mandy Hadnot                          102
+
+  William Hamilton                      106
+
+  Felix Haywood                         130
+
+  Phoebe Henderson                      135
+
+  Albert Hill                           137
+
+  Eliza Holman                          148
+
+  Bill Homer                            153
+
+  Scott Hooper                          157
+
+  Alice Houston                         159
+
+  Moses Hursey                          169
+
+  Charley Hurt                          172
+
+  Wash Ingram                           177
+
+  Carter J. Jackson                     180
+
+  James Jackson                         182
+
+  Martin Jackson                        187
+
+  Richard Jackson                       195
+
+  John James                            198
+
+  Gus Johnson                           208
+
+  James D. Johnson                      216
+
+  Mary Ellen Johnson                    223
+
+  Pauline Johnson and Felice Boudreaux  225
+
+  Spence Johnson                        228
+
+  Harriet Jones                         231
+
+  Harriet Jones
+     with Daughter and Granddaughter    231
+
+  Lewis Jones                           237
+
+  Lizzie Jones                          246
+
+  Sam Kilgore                           255
+
+  Ben Kinchlow                          260
+
+  Mary Kindred                          285
+
+
+
+
+EX-SLAVE STORIES
+
+(Texas)
+
+
+
+
+420285
+
+
+     WILLIS EASTER, 85, was born near Nacogdoches, Texas. He does not
+     know the name of his first master. Frank Sparks brought Willis to
+     Bosqueville, Texas, when he was two years old. Willis believes
+     firmly in "conjuremen" and ghosts, and wears several charms for
+     protection against the former. He lives in Waco, Texas.
+
+
+"I's birthed below Nacogdoches, and dey tells me it am on March 19th, in
+1852. My mammy had some kind of paper what say dat. But I don't know my
+master, 'cause when I's two he done give me to Marse Frank Sparks and he
+brung me to Bosqueville. Dat sizeable place dem days. My mammy come
+'bout a month after, 'cause Marse Frank, he say I's too much trouble
+without my mammy.
+
+"Mammy de bes' cook in de county and a master hand at spinnin' and
+weavin'. She made her own dye. Walnut and elm makes red dye and walnut
+brown color, and shumake makes black color. When you wants yallow color,
+git cedar moss out de brake.
+
+"All de lint was picked by hand on our place. It a slow job to git dat
+lint out de cotton and I's gone to sleep many a night, settin' by de
+fire, pickin' lint. In bad weather us sot by de fire and pick lint and
+patch harness and shoes, or whittle out something, dishes and bowls and
+troughs and traps and spoons.
+
+"All us chillen weared lowel white duckin', homemake, jes' one garment.
+It was de long shirt. You couldn't tell gals from boys on de yard.
+
+"I's twelve when us am freed and for awhile us lived on Marse Bob
+Wortham's place, on Chalk Bluff, on Horseshoe Bend. After de freedom
+war, dat old Brazos River done change its course up 'bove de bend, and
+move to de west.
+
+"I marries Nancy Clark in 1879, but no chilluns. Dere plenty deer and
+bears and wild turkeys and antelopes here den. Dey's sho' fine eatin'
+and wish I could stick a tooth in one now. I's seed fifty antelope at a
+waterin' hole.
+
+"Dere plenty Indians, too. De Rangers had de time keepin' dem back. Dey
+come in bright of de moon and steals and kills de stock. Dere a ferry
+'cross de Brazos and Capt. Ross run it. He sho' fit dem Indians.
+
+"Dem days everybody went hossback and de roads was jes' trails and
+bridges was poles 'cross de creeks. One day us went to a weddin'. Dey
+sot de dinner table out in de yard under a big tree and de table was a
+big slab of a tree on legs. Dey had pewter plates and spoons and chiny
+bowls and wooden dishes. Some de knives and forks was make out of bone.
+Dey had beef and pork and turkey and some antelope.
+
+"I knows 'bout ghostes. First, I tells you a funny story. A old man
+named Josh, he purty old and notionate. Every evenin' he squat down
+under a oak tree. Marse Smith, he slip up and hear Josh prayin, 'Oh,
+Gawd, please take pore old Josh home with you.' Next day, Marse Smith
+wrop heself in a sheet and git in de oak tree. Old Josh come 'long and
+pray, 'Oh, Gawd, please come take pore old Josh home with you.' Marse
+say from top de tree, 'Poor Josh, I's come to take you home with me.'
+Old Josh, he riz up and seed dat white shape in de tree, and he yell,
+'Oh, Lawd, not right now, I hasn't git forgive for all my sins.' Old
+Josh, he jes' shakin' and he dusts out dere faster den a wink. Dat
+broke up he prayin' under dat tree.
+
+"I never studied cunjurin', but I knows dat scorripins and things dey
+cunjures with am powerful medicine. Dey uses hair and fingernails and
+tacks and dry insects and worms and bat wings and sech. Mammy allus tie
+a leather string round de babies' necks when dey teethin', to make dem
+have easy time. She used a dry frog or piece nutmeg, too.
+
+"Mammy allus tell me to keep from bein' cunjure, I sing:
+
+"'Keep 'way from me, hoodoo and witch,
+  Lend my path from de porehouse gate;
+  I pines for golden harps and sich,
+  Lawd, I'll jes' set down and wait.
+  Old Satan am a liar and cunjurer, too--
+  If you don't watch out, he'll cunjure you.'
+
+"Dem cunjuremen sho' bad. Dey make you have pneumony and boils and bad
+luck. I carries me a jack all de time. It em de charm wrop in red
+flannel. Don't know what am in it. A bossman, he fix it for me.
+
+"I sho' can find water for de well. I got a li'l tree limb what am like
+a V. I driv de nail in de end of each branch and in de crotch. I takes
+hold of each branch and iffen I walks over water in de ground, dat limb
+gwine turn over in my hand till it points to de ground. Iffen money am
+buried, you can find it de same way.
+
+"Iffen you fills a shoe with salt and burns it, dat call luck to you. I
+wears a dime on a string round de neck and one round de ankle. Dat to
+keep any conjureman from sottin' de trick on ma. Dat dime be bright
+iffen my friends am true. It sho' gwine git dark iffen dey does me
+wrong.
+
+"For to make a jack dat am sho' good, git snakeroot and sassafras and a
+li'l lodestone and brimstone and asafoetida and resin and bluestone and
+gum arabic and a pod or two red pepper. Put dis in de red flannel bag,
+at midnight on de dark of de moon, and it sho' do de work.
+
+"I knowed a ghost house, I sho' did. Everybody knowed it, a red brick
+house in Waco, on Thirteenth and Washington St. Dey calls it de Bell
+house. It sho' a fine, big house, but folks couldn't use it. De white
+folks what owns it, dey gits one nigger and 'nother to stay round and
+look after things. De white folks wants me to stay dere. I goes. Every
+Friday night dere am a rustlin' sound, like murmur of treetops, all
+through dat house. De shutters rattles--only dere ain't no shutters on
+dem windows. Jes' plain as anything, I hears a chair, rockin', rockin'.
+Footsteps, soft as de breath, you could hear dem plain. But I stays and
+hunts and can't find nobody nor nothin' none of dem Friday nights.
+
+"Den come de Friday night on de las' quarter de moon. Long 'bout
+midnight, something lift me out de cot. I heared a li'l child sobbin',
+and dat rocker git started, and de shutters dey rattle softlike, and dat
+rustlin', mournin' sound all through dat house. I takes de lantern and
+out in de hall I goes. Right by de foot de stairs I seed a woman, big as
+life, but she was thin and I seed right through her. She jes' walk on
+down dat hall and pay me no mind. She make de sound like de beatin' of
+wings. I jes' froze. I couldn't move.
+
+"Dat woman jes' melted out de window at de end of de hall, and I left
+dat place!
+
+
+
+
+420054
+
+
+[Illustration: Anderson and Minerva Edwards]
+
+
+     ANDERSON AND MINERVA EDWARDS, a Negro Baptist preacher and his
+     wife, were slaves on adjoining plantations in Rusk County, Texas.
+     Anderson was born March 12, 1844, a slave of Major Matt Gaud, and
+     Minerva was born February 2, 1850, a slave of Major Flannigan. As a
+     boy Andrew would get a pass to visit his father, who belonged to
+     Major Flannigan, and there he met Minerva. They worked for their
+     masters until three years after the war, then moved to Harrison
+     County, married and reared sixteen children. Andrew and Minerva
+     live in a small but comfortable farmhouse two miles north of
+     Marshall. Minerva's memory is poor, and she added little to
+     Anderson's story.
+
+
+"My father was Sandy Flannigan and he had run off from his first master
+in Maryland, on the east shore, and come to Texas, and here a slave
+buyer picked him up and sold chances on him. If they could find his
+Maryland master he'd have to go back to him and if they couldn't the
+chances was good. Wash Edwards in Panola County bought the chance on
+him, but he run off from him, too, and come to Major Flannigan's in Rusk
+County. Fin'ly Major Flannigan had to pay a good lot to get clear title
+to him.
+
+"My mammy was named Minerva and her master was Major Gaud, and I was
+born there on his plantation in 1866. You can ask that tax man at
+Marshall 'bout my age, 'cause he's fix my 'xemption papers since I'm
+sixty. I had seven brothers and two sisters. There was Frank, Joe, Sandy
+and Gene, Preston and William and Sarah and Delilah, and they all lived
+to be old folks and the younges' jus' died last year. Folks was more
+healthy when I growed up and I'm 93 now and ain't dead; fact is, I feels
+right pert mos' the time.
+
+"My missy named Mary and she and Massa Matt lived in a hewed log house
+what am still standin' out there near Henderson. Our quarters was 'cross
+the road and set all in a row. Massa own three fam'lies of slaves and
+lots of hosses and sheep and cows and my father herded for him till he
+was freed. The government run a big tan yard there on Major Gaud's place
+and one my uncles was shoemaker. Jus' 'bout time of war, I was piddlin'
+'round the tannery and a government man say to me, 'Boy, I'll give you
+$1,000 for a drink of water,' and he did, but it was 'federate money
+that got kilt, so it done me no good.
+
+"Mammy was a weaver and made all the clothes and massa give us plenty to
+eat; fact, he treated us kind-a like he own boys. Course he whipped us
+when we had to have it, but not like I seed darkies whipped on other
+place. The other niggers called us Major Gaud's free niggers and we
+could hear 'em moanin' and cryin' round 'bout, when they was puttin' it
+on 'em.
+
+"I worked in the field from one year end to t'other and when we come in
+at dusk we had to eat and be in bed by nine. Massa give us mos' anything
+he had to eat, 'cept biscuits. That ash cake wasn't sich bad eatin' and
+it was cooked by puttin' cornmeal batter in shucks and bakin' in the
+ashes.
+
+"We didn't work in the field Sunday but they have so much stock to tend
+it kep' us busy. Missy was 'ligious and allus took us to church when she
+could. When we prayed by ourse'ves we daren't let the white folks know
+it and we turned a wash pot down to the ground to cotch the voice. We
+prayed a lot to be free and the Lord done heered us. We didn't have no
+song books and the Lord done give us our songs and when we sing them at
+night it jus' whispering to nobody hear us. One went like this:
+
+"'my knee bones am aching,
+  my body's rackin' with pain,
+  i 'lieve i'm a chile of god,
+  and this ain't my home,
+  'cause heaven's my aim.'
+
+"Massa Gaud give big corn shuckin's and cotton pickin's and the women
+cook up big dinners and massa give us some whiskey, and lots of times we
+shucked all night. On Saturday nights we'd sing and dance and we made
+our own instruments, which was gourd fiddles and quill flutes. Gen'rally
+Christmas was like any other day, but I got Santa Claus twict in
+slavery, 'cause massa give me a sack of molasses candy once and some
+biscuits once and that was a whole lot to me then.
+
+"The Vinsons and Frys what lived next to massa sold slaves and I seed
+'em sold and chained together and druv off in herds by a white man on a
+hoss. They'd sell babies 'way from the mammy and the Lord never did
+'tend sich as that.
+
+"I 'lieve in that hant business yet. I seed one when I was a boy, right
+after mammy die. I woke up and seed it come in the door, and it had a
+body and legs and tail and a face like a man and it walked to the
+fireplace and lifted the lid off a skillet of 'taters what sot there and
+came to my bed and raised up the cover and crawled in and I hollers so
+loud it wakes everybody. I tell 'em I seed a ghost and they say I crazy,
+but I guess I knows a hant when I sees one. Minerva there can tell you
+'bout that haunted house we lived in near Marshall jus' after we's
+married." (Minerva says, 'Deed, I can,' and here is her story:)
+
+"The nex' year after Anderson and me marries we moves to a place that
+had 'longed to white folks and the man was real mean and choked his
+wife to death and he lef' the country and we moved in. We heered
+peculiar noises by night and the niggers 'round there done told us it
+was hanted but I didn't 'lieve 'em, but I do now. One night we seed the
+woman what died come all 'round with a light in the hand and the
+neighbors said that candle light the house all over and it look like it
+on fire. She come ev'ry night and we left our crop and moved 'way from
+there and ain't gone back yit to gather that crop. 'Fore we moved in
+that place been empty since the woman die, 'cause nobody live there. One
+night Charlie Williams, what lives in Marshall, and runs a store out by
+the T. & P. Hospital git drunk and goes out there to sleep and while he
+sleepin' that same woman come in and nigh choked him to death. Ain't
+nobody ever live in that house since we is there."
+
+Anderson then resumed his story: "I 'member when war starts and massa's
+boy, George it was, saddles up ole Bob, his pony, and lef'. He stays six
+months and when he rid up massa say, 'How's the war, George?' and massa
+George say, 'It's Hell. Me and Bob has been runnin' Yankees ever since
+us lef'.' 'Fore war massa didn't never say much 'bout slavery but when
+he heered us free he cusses and say, 'Gawd never did 'tend to free
+niggers,' and he cussed till he died. But he didn't tell us we's free
+till a whole year after we was, but one day a bunch of Yankee soldiers
+come ridin' up and massa and missy hid out. The soldiers walked into the
+kitchen and mammy was churnin' and one of them kicks the churn over and
+say, 'Git out, you's jus' as free as I is.' Then they ramsacked the
+place and breaks out all the window lights and when they leaves it look
+like a storm done hit that house. Massa come back from hidin' and that
+when he starts on a cussin' spree what lasts as long as he lives.
+
+"'bout four year after that war pappy took me to Harrison County and
+I've lived here ever, since and Minerva's pappy moves from the Flannigan
+place to a jinin' farm 'bout that time and sev'ral years later we was
+married. It was at her house and she had a blue serge suit and I wore a
+cutaway Prince Albert suit and they was 'bout 200 folks at our weddin'.
+The nex' day they give us an infair and a big dinner. We raises sixteen
+chillen to be growed and six of the boys is still livin' and workin' in
+Marshall.
+
+"I been preachin' the Gospel and farmin' since slavery time. I jined the
+church mos' 83 year ago when I was Major Gaud's slave and they baptises
+me in the spring branch clost to where I finds the Lord. When I starts
+preachin' I couldn't read or write and had to preach what massa told me
+and he say tell them niggers iffen they obeys the massa they goes to
+Heaven but I knowed there's something better for them, but daren't tell
+them 'cept on the sly. That I done lots. I tells 'em iffen they
+keeps prayin' the Lord will set 'em free. But
+since them days I's done studied some and I preached all over Panola and
+Harrison County and I started the Edward's Chapel over there in Marshall
+and pastored it till a few year ago. It's named for me.
+
+"I don't preach much now, 'cause I can't hold out to walk far and I got
+no other way to go. We has a $14.00 pension and lives on that and what
+we can raise on the farm.
+
+
+
+
+420219
+
+
+[Illustration: Ann J. Edwards]
+
+
+     ANN J. EDWARDS, 81, was born a slave of John Cook, of Arlington
+     County, Virginia. He manumitted his slaves in 1857. Four years
+     later Ann was adopted by Richard H. Cain, a colored preacher. He
+     was elected to the 45th Congress in 1876, and remained in
+     Washington, D.C., until his death, in 1887. Ann married Jas. E.
+     Edwards, graduate of Howard College, a preacher. She now lives with
+     her granddaughter, Mary Foster, at 804 E. 4th St., Fort Worth,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"I shall gladly relate the story of my life. I was born a slave on
+January 27th, 1856, and my master's name was John J. Cook, who was a
+resident of Arlington County, Virginia. He moved to Washington, D.C.,
+when I was nearly two years old and immediately gave my parents their
+freedom. They separated within a year after that, and my mother earned
+our living, working as a hairdresser until her death in 1861. I was then
+adopted by Richard H. Cain, a minister of the Gospel in the African
+Methodist Church.
+
+"I remember the beginning of the war well. The conditions made a deep
+impression on my mind, and the atmosphere of Washington was charged with
+excitement and expectations. There existed considerable need for
+assistance to the Negroes who had escaped after the war began, and Rev.
+Cain took a leading part in rendering aid to them. They came into the
+city without clothes or money and no idea of how to secure employment. A
+large number were placed on farms, some given employment as domestics
+and still others mustered into the Federal Army.
+
+"The city was one procession of men in blue and the air was full of
+martial music. The fife and drum could be heard almost all the time, so
+you may imagine what emotions a colored person of my age would
+experience, especially as father's church was a center for congregating
+the Negroes and advising them. That was a difficult task, because a
+large majority were illiterate and ignorant.
+
+"The year father was called to Charleston, South Carolina, to take
+charge of a church, we became the center of considerable trouble. It was
+right after the close of the war. In addition to his ministerial duties,
+father managed a newspaper and became interested in politics. He was
+elected a delegate to the Constitutional Convention of South Carolina in
+1868. He was also elected a Republican member of the State Senate and
+served from 1868 to 1872. Then he became the Republican candidate for
+the United States Representative of the Charleston district, was elected
+and served in the 45th Congress from March 4, 1877 to March 3, 1879.
+
+"You can imagine the bitter conflict his candidacy brought on. A Negro
+running for public office against a white person in a Southern state
+that was strong for slavery does not seem the sensible thing for a man
+to do, but he did and was, of course, successful. From the moment he
+became delegate to the Constitutional Convention a guard was necessary
+night and day to watch our home. He was compelled to have a bodyguard
+wherever he went. We, his family, lived in constant fear at all times.
+Many times mother pleaded with him to cease his activities, but her
+pleadings were of no avail.
+
+"In the beginning the resentment was not so pronounced. The white
+people were shocked and dejected over the outcome of the war, but
+gradually recovered. As they did, determination to establish order and
+prosperity developed, and they resented the Negro taking part in public
+affairs. On the other side of the cause was the excess and obstinate
+actions of some ignorant Negroes, acting under ill advice. Father was
+trying to prevent excesses being done by either side. He realized that
+the slaves were unfit, at that time, to take their place as dependable
+citizens, for the want of experience and wisdom, and that there would
+have to be mental development and wisdom learned by his race, and that
+such would only come by a gradual process.
+
+"He entered the contest in the interest of his own race, primarily, but
+as a whole, to do justice to all. No one could change his course. He
+often stated, 'It is by the Divine will that I am in this battle.'
+
+"The climax of the resentment against him took place when he was chosen
+Republican candidate to the House of Representatives. He had to maintain
+an armed guard at all times. Several times, despite these guards,
+attempts were made to either burn the house or injure some member of the
+family. If it had not been for the fact that the officials of the city
+and county were afraid of the federal government, which gave aid in
+protecting him, the mob would have succeeded in harming him.
+
+"A day or two before election a mob gathered suddenly in front of the
+house, and we all thought the end had come. Father sent us all upstairs,
+and said he would, if necessary, give himself up to the mob and let them
+satisfy their vengeance on him, to save the rest of us.
+
+"While he was talking, mother noticed another body of men in the alley.
+They were certainly sinister looking. Father told us to prepare for the
+worst, saying, 'What they plan to do is for those in front to engage
+the attention of ourselves and the guard, then those in the rear will
+fire the place and force us out.' He was calm throughout it all, but
+mother was greatly agitated and I was crying.
+
+"The chief of the guard called father for a parley. The mob leader
+demanded that father come out for a talk. Then the sheriff and deputies
+appeared and he addressed the crowd of men, and told them if harm came
+to us the city would be placed under martial law. The men then
+dispersed, after some discussion among themselves.
+
+"Father moved to Washington, took the oath of office and served until
+March 4th, 1879. He then received the appointment of Bishop of the
+African Methodist Church and served until his death in Washington, on
+Jan. 18th, 1887.
+
+"I began my schooling in Charleston and continued in Washington, where I
+entered Howard College, but did not continue until graduation. I met
+James E. Edwards, another student, who graduated in 1881, and my heart
+overruled my desire for an education. We married and he entered the
+ministry and was called to Dallas, Texas. He remained two years, then we
+were called to Los Angeles. The Negroes there were privileged to enter
+public eating establishments, but a cafe owner we patronized told us the
+following:
+
+"'After a time, I was compelled to refuse service to Negroes because
+they abused the privilege. They came in in a boisterous manner and
+crowded and shoved other patrons. It was due to a lack of wisdom and
+education.'
+
+"That was true. The white people tried to give the Negro his rights and
+he abused the privilege because he was ignorant, a condition he could
+not then help.
+
+"My husband and I were called to Kansas City in 1896 and from there to
+many other towns. Finally we came to Waco, and he had charge of a church
+there when he died, in 1927. We had a pleasant married life and I tried
+to do my duty as a pastor's wife and help elevate my race. We were
+blessed with three children, and the only one now living is in Boston,
+Massachusetts.
+
+"I now reside with my granddaughter, Mary Foster, and this shack is the
+best her husband can afford. In fact, we are living in destitute
+circumstances. It is depressing to me, after having lived a life in a
+comfortable home. It is the Lord's will and I must accept what is
+provided. There is a purpose for all things. I shall soon go to meet my
+Maker, with the satisfaction of having done my duty--first, to my race,
+second, to mankind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Note: The biography of Richard H. Cain is published in the
+     Biographical Directory of the American Congress.
+
+
+
+
+420008
+
+
+[Illustration: Mary Kincheon Edwards]
+
+
+     MARY KINCHEON EDWARDS says she was born on July 8, 1810, but she
+     has nothing to substantiate this claim. However, she is evidently
+     very old. Her memory is poor, but she knows she was reared by the
+     Kincheons, in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and that she spoke French
+     when a child. The Kincheons gave her to Felix Vaughn, who brought
+     her to Texas before the Civil War. Mary lives with Beatrice
+     Watters, near Austin, Texas.
+
+
+"When I's a li'l gal my name Mary Anne Kincheon and I's born on the
+eighth of July, in 1810. I lives with de Kincheon family over in
+Louisiana. Baton Rouge am de name of dat place. Dem Kincheons have
+plenty chillen. O, dey have so many chillen!
+
+"I don't 'member much 'bout dem days. I's done forgot so many things,
+but I 'members how de stars fell and how scared us was. Dem stars got to
+fallin' and was out 'fore dey hits de ground. I don't knew when dat was,
+but I's good size den.
+
+"I get give to Massa Felix Vaughn and he brung me to Texas. Dat long
+'fore de war for freedom, but I don't know de year. De most work I done
+for de Vaughns was wet nuss de baby son, what name Elijah. His mammy
+jes' didn't have 'nough milk for him.
+
+"Den I knit de socks and wash de clothes and sometimes I work in de
+fields. I he'ped make de baskets for de cotton. De man git white-oak
+wood and we lets it stay in de water for de night and de nex' mornin'
+and it soft and us split it in strips for makin' of de baskets.
+Everybody try see who could make de bes' basket.
+
+"Us pick 'bout 100 pound cotton in one basket. I didn't mind pickin'
+cotton, 'cause I never did have de backache. I pick two and three
+hunnert pounds a day and one day I picked 400. Sometime de prize give by
+massa to de slave what pick de most. De prize am a big cake or some
+clothes. Pickin' cotton not so bad, 'cause us used to it and have de
+fine time of it. I gits a dress one day and a pair shoes 'nother day for
+pickin' most. I so fast I take two rows at de time.
+
+"De women brung oil cloths to de fields, so dey make shady place for de
+chillen to sleep, but dem what big 'nough has to pick. Sometime dey sing
+
+  "'O--ho, I's gwine home,
+  And cuss de old overseer.'
+
+"Us have ash-hopper and uses drip-lye for make barrels soap and hominy.
+De way us test de lye am drap de egg in it and if de egg float de lye
+ready to put in de grease for makin' de soap. Us throwed greasy bones in
+de lye and dat make de bes' soap. De lye eat de bones.
+
+"Us boil wild sage and make tea and it smell good. It good for de fever
+and chills. Us git slippery elm out de bottom and chew it. Some chew it
+for bad feelin's and some jes' to be chewin'.
+
+"Sometimes us go to dances and missy let me wear some her jewl'ry. I out
+dances dem all and folks didn't know dat not my jewl'ry. After freedom I
+stays with de Vaughns and marries, but I forgit he name. Dat 'fore
+freedom. After freedom I marries Osburn Edwards and has five chillen.
+Dey all dead now. I can still git 'round with dis old gnarly cane. Jes'
+you git me good and scared and see how fast I can git 'round!"
+
+
+
+
+420266
+
+
+     LUCINDA ELDER, 86, was born a slave of the Cardwell family, near
+     Concord Deport, Virginia. She came to Texas with Will Jones and his
+     wife, Miss Susie, in 1860, and was their nurse-girl until she
+     married Will Elder, in 1875. Lucinda lives at 1007 Edwards St.,
+     Houston, Texas.
+
+
+"You chilluns all go 'way now, while I talks to dis gen'man. I 'clares
+to goodness, chilluns nowadays ain't got no manners 'tall. 'Tain't like
+when I was li'l, dey larnt you manners and you larnt to mind, too.
+Nowadays you tell 'em to do somethin' and you is jes' wastin' you
+breath, 'less you has a stick right handy. Dey is my great
+grandchilluns, and dey sho' is spoilt. Maybe I ain't got no patience no
+more, like I use to have, 'cause dey ain't so bad.
+
+"Well, suh, you all wants me to tell you 'bout slave times, and I'll
+tell you first dat I had mighty good white folks, and I hope dey is gone
+up to Heaven. My mama 'long to Marse John Cardwell, what I hear was de
+riches' man and had de bigges' plantation round Concord Depot. Dat am in
+Campbell County, in Virginny. I don't 'member old missy's name, but she
+mighty good to de slaves, jes' like Marse John was.
+
+"Mama's name was Isabella and she was de cook and born right on de
+plantation. Papa's name was Gibson, his first name was Jim, and he 'long
+to Marse Gibson what had a plantation next to Marse John, and I knows
+papa come to see mama on Wednesday and Sat'day nights.
+
+"Lemme see, now, dere was six of us chilluns. My mem'ry ain't so good no
+more, but Charley was oldes', den come Dolly and Jennie and Susie and me
+and Laura. Law me, I guess old Dr. Bass, what was doctor for Marse John,
+use to be right busy with us 'bout once a year for quite a spell.
+
+"Dem times dey don't marry by no license. Dey takes a slave man and
+woman from de same plantation and puts 'em together, or sometime a man
+from 'nother plantation, like my papa and mama. Mamma say Marse John
+give 'em a big supper in de big house and read out de Bible 'bout
+obeyin' and workin' and den dey am married. Course, de nigger jes' a
+slave and have to do what de white folks say, so dat way of marryin'
+'bout good as any.
+
+"But Marse John sho' was de good marse and we had plenty to eat and wear
+and no one ever got whipped. Marse John say iffen he have a nigger what
+oughta be whipped, he'd git rid of him quick, 'cause a bad nigger jes'
+like a rotten 'tater in a sack of good ones--it spoil de others.
+
+"Back dere in Virginny it sho' git cold in winter, but come September de
+wood gang git busy cuttin' wood and haulin' it to de yard. Dey makes two
+piles, one for de big house and de bigges' pile for de slaves. When dey
+git it all hauled it look like a big woodyard. While dey is haulin', de
+women make quilts and dey is wool quilts. Course, dey ain't made out of
+shearin' wool, but jes' as good. Marse John have lots of sheep and when
+dey go through de briar patch de wool cotch on dem briars and in de fall
+de women folks goes out and picks de wool off de briars jes' like you
+picks cotton. Law me, I don't know nothin' 'bout makin' quilts out of
+cotton till I comes to Texas.
+
+"Course I never done no work, 'cause Marse John won't work no one till
+dey is fifteen years old. Den dey works three hours a day and dat all.
+Dey don't work full time till dey's eighteen. We was jes' same as free
+niggers on our place. He gives each slave a piece of ground to make de
+crop on and buys de stuff hisself. We growed snap beans and corn and
+plant on a light moon, or turnips and onions we plant on de dark moon.
+
+"When I gits old 'nough Marse John lets me take he daughter, Nancy Lee,
+to school. It am twelve miles and de yard man hitches up old Bess to de
+buggy and we gits in and no one in dat county no prouder dan what I was.
+
+"Marse John lets us go visit other plantations and no pass, neither.
+Iffen de patterroller stop us, we jes' say we 'long to Marse John and
+dey don't bother us none. Iffen dey comes to our cabin from other
+plantations, dey has to show de patterroller de pass, and iffen dey
+slipped off and ain't got none, de patterroller sho' give a whippin'
+den. But dey waits till dey off our place, 'cause Marse John won't 'low
+no whippin' on our place by no one.
+
+"Well, things was jes' 'bout de same all de time till jes' 'fore
+freedom. Course, I hears some talk 'bout bluebellies, what dey call de
+Yanks, fightin' our folks, but dey wasn't fightin' round us. Den one dey
+mamma took sick and she had hear talk and call me to de bed and say,
+'Lucinda, we all gwine be free soon and not work 'less we git paid for
+it.' She sho' was right, 'cause Marse John calls all us to de cookhouse
+and reads de freedom papers to us and tells us we is all free, but iffen
+we wants to stay he'll give us land to make a crop and he'll feed us.
+Now I tells you de truth, dey wasn't no one leaves, 'cause we all loves
+Marse John.
+
+"Den, jus' three weeks after freedom mama dies and dat how come me to
+leave Marse John. You see, Marse Gibson what owns papa 'fore freedom,
+was a good marse and when papa was sot free Marse Gibson gives him some
+land to farm. 'Course, papa was gwine have us all with him, but when
+mamma dies, Marse Gibson tell him Mr. Will Jones and Miss Susie, he
+wife, want a nurse girl for de chilluns, so papa hires me out to 'em and
+I want to say right now, dey jes' as good white folks as Marse John and
+Old Missy, and sho' treated me good.
+
+"Law me, I never won't forgit one day. Mr. Will say, 'Lucinda, we is
+gwine drive you over to Appomatox and take de chilluns and you can come,
+too.' Course, I was tickled mos' to pieces but he didn't tell what he
+gwine for. You know what? To see a nigger hung. I gettin' long mighty
+old now, but I won't never forgit dat. He had kilt a man, and I never
+saw so many people 'fore, what dere to see him hang. I jes' shut my
+eyes.
+
+"Den Mr. Will he take me to de big tree what have all de bark strip off
+it and de branches strip off, and say, 'Lucinda, dis de tree where Gen.
+Lee surrendered.' I has put dese two hands right on dat tree, yes, suh,
+I sho' has.
+
+"Miss Susie say one day, 'Lucinda, how you like to go with us to Texas?'
+Law me, I didn't know where Texas was at, or nothin', but I loved Mr.
+Will and Miss Susie and de chilluns was all wrop up in me, so I say I'll
+go. And dat how come I'm here, and I ain't never been back, and I ain't
+see my own sisters and brother and papa since.
+
+"We come to New Orleans on de train and takes de boat on de Gulf to
+Galveston and den de train to Hempstead. Mr. Will farm at first and den
+he and Miss Susie run de hotel, and I stays with dem till I gets married
+to Will Elder in '75, and I lives with him till de good Lawd takes him
+home.
+
+"I has five chilluns but all dead now, 'ceptin' two. I done served de
+Lawd now for 64 years and soon he's gwine call old Lucinda, but I'm
+ready and I know I'll be better off when I die and go to Heaven, 'cause
+I'm old and no 'count now.
+
+
+
+
+420024
+
+
+[Illustration: John Ellis]
+
+
+     JOHN ELLIS, was born June 26, 1852, a slave of the Ellis family in
+     Johnson County near Cleburne, Texas. He remained with his white
+     folks and was paid by the month for his labor for one year after
+     freedom, when his master died and his mistress returned to
+     Mississippi. He worked as a laborer for many years around Cleburne,
+     coming to San Angelo, Texas in 1928. He now lives alone and is very
+     active for his age.
+
+
+John relates:
+
+"My father and mother, John and Fannie Ellis, were sold in Springfield,
+Missouri, to my marster, Parson Ellis, and taken away from all their
+people and brought to Johnson County, Texas.
+
+"My marster, he was a preacher and a good man. None of de slaves ever
+have better white folks den we did.
+
+"We had good beds and good food and dey teaches us to read and write
+too. De buffalo and de antelope and de deer was mos' as thick as de
+cattle now, and we was sent out after dem, so we would always have
+plenty of fresh meat. We had hogs and cattle too. Any of dem what was
+not marked was just as much ours as iffen we had raised dem, 'cause de
+range was all free.
+
+"Some of de fish we would catch out of dat Brazos River would be so big
+dey would pull us in but finally we would manage to gits dem out. De
+rabbits and de 'possum was plentiful too and wid de big garden what our
+marster had for us all, we sho' had good to eat.
+
+"I's done all kinds of work what it takes to run a fa'm. My boss he had
+only fourteen slaves and what was called a small fa'm, compared wid de
+big plantations. After our days work was done we would set up at night
+and pick de seed out of de cotton so dey could spin it into thread. Den
+we goes out and gits different kinds of bark and boils it to git dye for
+de thread 'fore it was spinned into cloth. De chillun jes' have long
+shirts and slips made out of dis home spun and we makes our shoes out of
+rawhide, and Lawdy! Dey was so hard we would have to warm dem by de fire
+and grease dem wid tallow to ever wear dem 'tall.
+
+"We had good log huts and our boss had a bigger log house. We never did
+work long into de night and long 'fore day like I hear tell some did. We
+didn' have none of dem drivers and when we done anything very bad old
+marster he whoop us a little but we never got hurt.
+
+"I didn' see no slaves sold. Dat was done, I hear, but not so much in
+Texas. I never did see no jails nor chains nor nothin' like dat either,
+but I hears 'bout dem.
+
+"We never worked Sat'days and de colored went to church wid de whites
+and jine de church too, but dey never baptized dem so far as I knows.
+
+"We had lots to eat and big times on Christmas, mos' as big as when de
+white folks gits married. Umph, um! One of de gi'ls got married once and
+she had such a long train on dat weddin' gown 'til me and my sister, we
+have to walks along behind her and carry dat thing, all of us a-walkin'
+on a strip of nice cloth from de carriage to de church. We sho' have de
+cakes and all dem good eats at dem weddin' suppers.
+
+"I nev'r hear tell of many colored weddin's. We jes' jumps over de broom
+an' de bride she has to jump over it backwards and iffen she couldn'
+jump it backwards she couldn't git married. Dat was sho' funny, seein'
+dem colored gi'ls a tryin' to jump dat broom.
+
+"Our boss, he tells us 'bout bein' free and he say he hire us by de
+month and we stays dere a year and he dies, den ole miss she go back to
+Mississippi and we jes' scatter 'round, some a workin' here and some a
+workin' yonder, mos' times for our victuals and clothes. I couldn' tell
+much difference myself 'cause I had good people to live wid and when it
+was dat way de whites and de colored was better off de way I sees it
+den dey is now, some of dem.
+
+"I seem jes' punyin' away, de doctors don' know jes' what's wrong wid me
+but I never was use to doctors anyway, jes' some red root tea or sage
+weed and sheep waste tea for de measles am all de doctoring we gits when
+we was slaves and dat done jes' as well.
+
+"My wife she been dead all dese years an' I jes' lives here alone.
+
+"Chillun? No mam, I never had no chillun 'fore I was married an' I only
+had twelve after I was married; yes mam, jes' nine boys and three girls,
+but I prefers to live here by myself, 'cause I gits along alright."
+
+
+
+
+420945
+
+
+[Illustration: Lorenza Ezell]
+
+
+     LORENZA EZELL, Beaumont, Texas, Negro, was born in 1850 on the
+     plantation of Ned Lipscomb, in Spartanburg County, South Carolina.
+     Lorenza is above the average in intelligence and remembers many
+     incidents of slavery and Reconstruction days. He came to Brenham,
+     Texas, in 1882, and several years later moved to Beaumont, where he
+     lives in a little shack almost hidden by vines and trees.
+
+
+"Us plantation was jes' east from Pacolet Station on Thicketty Creek, in
+Spartanburg County, in South Carolina. Dat near Little and Big Pacolet
+Rivers on de route to Limestone Springs, and it jes' a ordinary
+plantation with de main crops cotton and wheat.
+
+"I 'long to de Lipscombs and my mama, Maria Ezell, she 'long to 'em,
+too. Old Ned Lipscomb was 'mongst de oldest citizens of dat county. I's
+born dere on July 29th, in 1850 and I be 87 year old dis year. Levi
+Ezell, he my daddy, and he 'long to Landrum Ezell, a Baptist preacher.
+Dat young massa and de old massa, John Ezell, was de first Baptist
+preacher I ever heered of. He have three sons, Landrum and Judson and
+Bryson. Bryson have gif' for business and was right smart of a orator.
+
+"Dey's fourteen niggers on de Lipscomb place. Dey's seven of us chillen,
+my mamma, three uncle and three aunt and one man what wasn't no kin to
+us. I was oldest of de chillen, and dey called Sallie and Carrie and
+Alice and Jabus and Coy and LaFate and Rufus and Nelson.
+
+"Old Ned Lipscomb was one de best massa in de whole county. You know dem
+old patterrollers, dey call us 'Old Ned's free niggers,' and sho' hate
+us. Dey cruel to us, 'cause dey think us have too good a massa. One time
+dey cotch my uncle and beat him most to death.
+
+"Us go to work at daylight, but us wasn't 'bused. Other massas used to
+blow de horn or ring de bell, but massa, he never use de horn or de
+whip. All de man folks was 'lowed raise a garden patch with tobaccy or
+cotton for to sell in de market. Wasn't many massas what 'lowed dere
+niggers have patches and some didn't even feed 'em enough. Dat's why dey
+have to git out and hustle at night to git food for dem to eat.
+
+"De old massa, he 'sisted us go to church. De Baptist church have a shed
+built behind de pulpit for cullud folks, with de dirt floor and split
+log seat for de women folks, but most de men folks stands or kneels on
+de floor. Dey used to call dat de coop. De white preacher back to us,
+but iffen he want to he turn 'round and talk to us awhile. Us mess up
+songs, 'cause us couldn't read or write. I 'member dis one:
+
+  'De rough, rocky road what Moses done travel,
+  I's bound to carry my soul to de Lawd;
+  It's a mighty rocky road but I mos' done travel,
+  And I's bound to carry my soul to de Lawd.'
+
+"Us sing 'Sweet Chariot,' but us didn't sing it like dese days. Us sing:
+
+  'Swing low, sweet chariot,
+  Freely let me into rest,
+  I don't want to stay here no longer;
+  Swing low, sweet chariot,
+  When Gabriel make he las' alarm
+  I wants to be rollin' in Jesus arm,
+  'Cause I don't want to stay here no longer.'
+
+Us sing 'nother song what de Yankees take dat tune and make a hymm out
+of it. Sherman army sung it, too. We have it like dis:
+
+  'Our bodies bound to morter and decay,
+  Our bodies bound to morter and decay,
+  Our bodies bound to morter and decay,
+  But us souls go marchin' home.'
+
+"Befo' de war I jes' big 'nough to drap corn and tote water. When de
+little white chillen go to school 'bout half mile, I wait till noon and
+run all de way up to de school to run base when dey play at noon. Dey
+sev'ral young Lipscombs, dere Smith and Bill and John and Nathan, and de
+oldest son, Elias.
+
+"In dem days cullud people jes' like mules and hosses. Dey didn't have
+no last name. My mamma call me after my daddy's massa, Ezell. Mamma was
+de good woman and I 'member her more dan once rockin' de little cradle
+and singin' to de baby. Dis what she sing:
+
+  "Milk in de dairy nine days old,
+  Sing-song Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+  Frogs and skeeters gittin' mighty bol!
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+
+  (Chorus)
+
+  Keemo, kimo, darro, wharro,
+  With me hi, me ho;
+  In come Sally singin'
+    Sometime penny winkle,
+  Lingtum nip cat,
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+
+  Dere a frog live in a pool,
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+  Sure he was de bigges' fool,
+  Sing-song Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+
+  For he could dance and he could sing
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?
+  And make de woods aroun' him ring
+  Sing-song, Kitty, can't you ki-me-o?'
+
+"Old massa didn't hold with de way some mean massas treat dey niggers.
+Dere a place on our plantation what us call 'De old meadow.' It was
+common for runaway niggers to have place 'long de way to hide and res'
+when dey run off from mean massa. Massa used to give 'em somethin' to
+eat when dey hide dere. I saw dat place operated, though it wasn't
+knowed by dat den, but long time after I finds out dey call it part of
+de 'Underground railroad.' Dey was stops like dat all de way up to de
+north.
+
+"We have went down to Columbia when I 'bout 11 year old and dat where de
+first gun fired. Us rush back home, but I could say I heered de first
+guns of de war shot, at Fort Sumter.
+
+"When Gen'ral Sherman come 'cross de Savannah River in South Carolina,
+some of he sojers come right 'cross us plantation. All de neighbors have
+brung dey cotton and stack it in de thicket on de Lipscomb place.
+Sherman men find it and sot it on fire. Dat cotton stack was big as a
+little courthouse and it took two months' burnin'.
+
+"My old massa run off and stay in de woods a whole week when Sherman men
+come through. He didn't need to worry, 'cause us took care of
+everythin'. Dey a funny song us make up 'bout him runnin' off in de
+woods. I know it was make up, 'cause my uncle have a hand in it. It went
+like dis:
+
+  'White folks, have you seed old massa
+  Up de road, with he mustache on?
+  He pick up he hat and he leave real sudden
+  And I 'lieve he's up and gone.
+
+  (Chorus)
+
+  'Old massa run away
+  And us darkies stay at home.
+  It mus' be now dat Kingdom's comin'
+  And de year of Jubilee.
+
+  'He look up de river and he seed dat smoke
+  Where de Lincoln gunboats lay.
+  He big 'nuff and he old 'nuff and he orter know better,
+  But he gone and run away.
+
+  'Now dat overseer want to give trouble
+  And trot us 'round a spell,
+  But we lock him up in de smokehouse cellar,
+  With de key done throwed in de well.'
+
+"Right after dat I start to be boy what run mail from camp to camp for
+de sojers. One time I capture by a bunch of deserters what was hidin' in
+de woods 'long Pacolet River. Dey didn't hurt me, though, but dey mos'
+scare me to death. Dey parole me and turn me loose.
+
+"All four my young massas go to de war, all but Elias. He too old.
+Smith, he kilt at Manassas Junction. Nathan he git he finger shot at de
+first round at Fort Sumter. But when Billy was wounded at Howard Gap in
+North Carolina and dey brung him home with he jaw split open, I so mad I
+could have kilt all de Yankees. I say I be happy iffen I could kill me
+jes' one Yankee. I hated dem 'cause dey hurt my white people. Billy was
+disfigure awful when he jaw split and he teeth all shine through he
+cheek.
+
+"After war was over, old massa call us up and told us we free but he
+'vise not leave de place till de crop was through. Us all stay. Den us
+select us homes and move to it. Us folks move to Sam Littlejohn's, north
+of Thickettty Creek, where us stay two year. Den us move back to Billy
+Lipscomb, de young massa, and stay dere two more year. I's right smart
+good banjo picker in dem day. I kin 'member one dem songs jes' as good
+today as when I pick it. Dat was:
+
+  'Early in de mornin'
+  Don't you hear de dogs a-barkin'?
+  Bow, wow, wow!
+
+  (Chorus)
+
+  'Hush, hush, boys
+  Don't make a noise,
+  Massa's fast a-sleepin'.
+  Run to de barnyard
+  Wake up de boys
+  Let's have banjo pickin.'.
+
+  'Early in de mornin'
+  Don't you hear dem roosters crowin'?
+  Cock-a-doodle-do.
+
+"I come in contac' with de Klu Klux. Us lef' de plantation in '65 or '66
+and by '68 us was havin' sich a awful time with de Klu Klux. First time
+dey come to my mamma's house at midnight and claim dey sojers done come
+back from de dead. Dey all dress up in sheets and make up like spirit.
+Dey groan 'round and say dey been kilt wrongly and come back for
+justice. One man, he look jus' like ordinary man, but he spring up 'bout
+eighteen feet high all of a sudden. Another say he so thirsty he ain't
+have no water since he been kilt at Manassas Junction. He ask for water
+and he jes' kept pourin' it in. Us think he sho' must be a spirit to
+drink dat much water. Course he not drinkin' it, he pourin' it in a bag
+under he sheet. My mama never did take up no truck with spirits so she
+knowed it jes' a man. Dey tell us what dey gwine do iffen we don't all
+go back to us massas and us all 'grees and den dey all dis'pear.
+
+"Den us move to New Prospect on de Pacolet River, on de Perry Clemmons'
+place. Dat in de upper edge of de county and dat where de second swarm
+of de Klu Klux come out. Dey claim dey gwine kill everybody what am
+Repub'can. My daddy charge with bein' a leader 'mongst de niggers. He
+make speech and 'struct de niggers how to vote for Grant's first
+'lection. De Klu Klux want to whip him and he have to sleep in a holler
+log every night.
+
+"Dey's a old man name Uncle Bart what live 'bout half mile from us. De
+Klu Klux come to us house one night, but my daddy done hid. Den I hear
+dem say dey gwine go kill old man Bart. I jump out de window and cut
+short cut through dem wood and warn him. He git out de house in time and
+I save he life. De funny thing, I knowed all dem Klu Klux. Spite dey
+sheets and things, I knowed dey voices and dey saddle hosses.
+
+"Dey one white man name Irving Ramsey. Us play fiddle together lots of
+time. When de white boys dance dey allus wants me to go to play for dey
+party. One day I say to dat boy, 'I done knowed you last night.' He say,
+'What you mean?' I say, 'You one dem Klu Klux.' He want to know how I
+know. I say, 'Member when you go under de chestnut tree and say, "Whoa,
+Sont, whoa, Sont, to your hoss?" He say, 'Yes,' and I laugh and say,
+'Well, I's right up in dat tree.' Dey all knowed I knowed dem den, but I
+never told on dem. When dey seed I ain't gwineter tell, dey never try
+whip my daddy or kill Uncle Bart no more.
+
+"I ain't never been to school but I jes' picked up readin'. With some my
+first money I ever earn I buy me a old blue-back Webster. I carry dat
+book wherever I goes. When I plows down a row I stop at de end to rest
+and den I overlook de lesson. I 'member one de very first lessons was,
+'Evil communications 'rupts good morals.' I knowed de words 'evil' and
+'good' and a white man 'splain de others. I been done use dat lesson all
+my life.
+
+"After us left de Pacolet River us stay in Atlanta a little while and
+den I go on to Louisiana. I done lef' Spartanburg completely in '76 but
+I didn't git into Texas till 1882. I fin'lly git to Brenham, Texas and
+marry Rachel Pinchbeck two year after. Us was marry in church and have
+seven chillen. Den us sep'rate. I been batching 'bout 20 year and I done
+los' track mos' dem chillen. My gal, Lula, live in Beaumont, and Will,
+he in Chicago.
+
+"Every time I tells dese niggers I's from South Carolina dey all say,
+'O, he bound to make a heap.' I could be a conjure doctor and make
+plenty money, but dat ain't good. In slavery time dey's men like dat
+'garded as bein' dangerous. Dey make charms and put bad mouth on you. De
+old folks wears de rabbit foot or coon foot and sometime a silver dime
+on a fishin' string to keep off de witches. Some dem old conjure people
+make lots of money for charm 'gainst ruin or cripplin' or dry up de
+blood. But I don't take up no truck with things like dat.
+
+
+
+
+420093
+
+
+[Illustration: Betty Farrow]
+
+
+     BETTY FARROW, 90, now living with a son on a farm in Moser Valley,
+     a Negro settlement ten miles northeast of Fort Worth on Texas
+     Highway No. 15, was born a slave to Mr. Alex Clark, plantation
+     owner in Patrick Co., Virginia.
+
+
+"I's glad to tell what I knows, but yous have to 'scuse me, 'cause my
+'collection am bad. I jus' don' 'member much, but I's bo'n on Masta Alex
+Clark's plantation in Patrick County, Virginny, on June 28th, 1847.
+Dat's what my mammy tol' me. You see, we cullud folks have no schoolin'
+dem days and I can't read or write. I has to depen' on what folks tells
+me.
+
+"Masta Clark has right smart plantation in ole Virginny and he owns
+'bout twenty other slaves dat wo'ked de big place. He had three girls
+and four boys and when I's a chile we'uns played togedder and we'uns
+'tached to each other all our lives.
+
+"In mammy's family dere was five boys and four girls. I don' 'member my
+pappy. When I's 'bout ten, I's set to work, peddalin' 'round de house.
+
+"'bout three years 'fore de war marster sol' his plantation for to go to
+Texas. I 'members de day we'uns started in three covered wagons, all
+loaded. 'Twas celebration day for us chillun. We travels from daylight
+to dark, 'cept to feed and res' de mules at noon. I don' rec'lec' how
+long we was on de way, but 'twas long time and 'twarn't no celebration
+towards de las'. After while we comes to Sherman, in Texas, to our new
+farm.
+
+"When we was dere 'bout a year, dere am heaps of trouble. Dere was a
+neighbor, Shields, he's drivin' wood to town and goes n'cross masta's
+yard and dey have arg'ments. One day we chillen playin' and masta
+settin' on de front porch and Shields come up de road. Masta stops him
+when he starts to cross de yard and de fust thing we knows, we hears
+'bang' and dat Shields shoot de masta and we sees him fall. Dey sen's
+young Alex for de doctor and he makes dat mule run like he never run
+'fore. De doctor comes in de house and looks at de masta, and listens to
+his heart and says, 'He am dead.' Dere was powerful sorrow in dat home.
+
+"After dat, Masta Alex takes charge, and in 'bout one year, he says,
+'We'uns goin' to Fort Worth.' So we goes, and if I rec'lec's right, dat
+year de war started. After dat, dere was times dere wasn' enough to make
+de clothes, but we'uns allus had plenty to eat, and we gives lots of
+feed to de army mans.
+
+"I don' 'member bein' tol' I's free. We'uns stayed right dere on de farm
+'cause it was de only home we knew and no reason to go. I stays dere
+till I's twenty-seven years ole, den I marries and my husban' rents
+land. We'uns has ten chillun and sometimes we has to skimp, but we gets
+on. When my husban' dies fifteen years ago, I comes here. I's allus been
+too busy tendin' to my 'sponsibilities for to git in de debilmen' and
+now I's happy, tendin' to my great gran'chile.
+
+
+
+
+420147
+
+
+     JOHN FINNELY, 86, was born a slave to Martin Finnely, in Jackson
+     Co., Alabama. During the Civil War ten slaves escaped from the
+     Finnely plantation. Their success led John to escape. He joined the
+     Federal Army. John farmed from 1865 until 1917, then moved to Fort
+     Worth, Tex., and worked in packing plants until 1930. He now lives
+     at 2812 Cliff St., Fort Worth, his sole support a $17.00 monthly
+     pension.
+
+
+"Alabama am de state where I's born and dat 86 year ago, in Jackson
+County, on Massa Martin Finnely's plantation, and him owns 'bout 75
+other slaves 'sides mammy and me. My pappy am on dat plantation but I
+don't know him, 'cause mammy never talks 'bout him 'cept to say, 'He am
+here.'
+
+"Massa run de cotton plantation but raises stock and feed and corn and
+cane and rations for de humans sich as us. It am diff'rent when I's a
+young'un dan now. Den, it am needful for to raise everything yous need,
+'cause dey couldn't 'pend on factory made goods. Dey could buy shoes and
+clothes and sich, but we'uns could make dem so much cheaper.
+
+"What we'uns make? 'Low me to 'collect a li'l. Let's see, we'uns make
+shoes, and leather and clothes and cloth and grinds de meal. And we'uns
+cures de meat, preserves de fruit and make 'lassas and brown sugar. All
+de harness for de mules and de hosses is make and de carts for haulin'.
+Am dat all? Oh, yes, massa make peach brandy and him have he own still.
+
+"De work am 'vided 'twixt de cullud folks and us allus have certain
+duties to do. I's am de field hand and befo' I's old 'nough for to do
+dat, dey has me help with de chores and errands.
+
+"Us have de cabins of logs with one room and one door and one window
+hole and bunks for sleepin'. But no cookin' am done dere. It am done in
+de cookhouse by de cooks for all us niggers and we'uns eats in de eatin'
+shed. De rations am good, plain victuals and dere plenty of it and 'bout
+twict a week dere somethin' for treat. Massa sho' am 'ticular 'bout
+feedin', 'specially for de young'uns in de nursery. You see, dere am de
+nursery for sich what needs care while dere mammies am a-workin'.
+
+"Massa feed plenty and him 'mand plenty work. Dat cause heap of trouble
+on dat plantation, 'cause whippin's am given and hard ones, too. Lots of
+times at de end of de day I's so tired I's couldn't speak for to stop de
+mule, I jus' have to lean back on de lines.
+
+"Dis nigger never gits whupped 'cept for dis, befo' I's a field hand.
+Massa use me for huntin' and use me for de gun rest. When him have de
+long shot I bends over and puts de hands on de knees and massa puts his
+gun on my back for to git de good aim. What him kills I runs and fotches
+and carries de game for him. I turns de squirrels for him and dat
+disaway: de squirrel allus go to udder side from de hunter and I walks
+'round de tree and de squirrel see me and go to massa's side de tree and
+he gits de shot.
+
+"All dat not so bad, but when he shoots de duck in de water and I has to
+fotch it out, dat give me de worryment. De fust time he tells me to go
+in de pond I's skeert, powe'ful skeert. I takes off de shirt and pants
+but there I stands. I steps in de water, den back 'gain, and 'gain.
+Massa am gittin' mad. He say, 'Swim in dere and git dat duck.' 'Yes,
+sar, massa,' I says, but I won't go in dat water till massa hit me some
+licks. I couldn't never git use to bein' de water dog for de ducks.
+
+"De worst whuppin' I seed was give to Clarinda. She hits massa with de
+hoe 'cause he try 'fere with her and she try stop him. She am put on de
+log and give 500 lashes. She am over dat log all day and when dey takes
+her off, she am limp and act deadlike. For a week she am in de bunk. Dat
+whuppin' cause plenty trouble and dere lots of arg'ments 'mong de white
+folks 'round dere.
+
+"We has some joyments on de plantation, no parties or dancin' but we has
+de corn huskin' and de nigger fights. For de corn huskin' everybody come
+to one place and dey gives de prize for findin' de red ear. On massa's
+place de prize am brandy or you am 'lowed to kiss de gal you calls for.
+While us huskin' us sing lots. No, no, I's not gwine sing any dem songs,
+'cause I's forgit and my voice sound like de bray of de mule.
+
+"De nigger fights am more for de white folks' joyment but de slaves am
+'lowed to see it. De massas of plantations match dere niggers 'cording
+to size and bet on dem. Massa Finnely have one nigger what weighs 'bout
+150 pounds and him powerful good fighter and he like to fight. None
+lasts long with him. Den a new niggers comes to fight him.
+
+"Dat fight am held at night by de pine torch light. A ring am made by de
+folks standin' 'round in de circle. Deys 'lowed to do anything with dey
+hands and head and teeth. Nothin' barred 'cept de knife and de club. Dem
+two niggers gits in de ring and Tom he starts quick, and dat new nigger
+he starts jus' as quick. Dat 'sprise Tom and when dey comes togedder it
+like two bulls--kersmash--it sounds like dat. Den it am hit and kick and
+bite and butt anywhere and any place for to best de udder. De one on de
+bottom bites knees or anything him can do. Dat's de way it go for half
+de hour.
+
+"Fin'ly dat new nigger gits Tom in de stomach with he knee and a lick
+side de jaw at de same time and down go Tom and de udder nigger jumps on
+him with both feets, den straddle him and hits with right, left, right,
+left, right, side Tom's head. Dere Tom lay, makin' no 'sistance.
+Everybody am saysin', 'Tom have met he match, him am done.' Both am
+bleedin' and am awful sight. Well, dat new nigger 'laxes for to git he
+wind and den Tom, quick like de flash, flips him off and jump to he feet
+and befo' dat new nigger could git to he feet, Tom kicks him in de
+stomach, 'gain and 'gain. Dat nigger's body start to quaver and he massa
+say, 'Dat 'nough.' Dat de clostest Tom ever come to gittin' whupped what
+I's know of.
+
+"I becomes a runaway nigger short time after dat fight. De war am
+started den for 'bout a year, or somethin' like dat, and de Fed'rals am
+north of us. I hears de niggers talk 'bout it, and 'bout runnin' 'way to
+freedom. I thinks and thinks 'bout gittin' freedom, and I's gwine run
+off. Den I thinks of de patter rollers and what happen if dey cotches me
+off de place without de pass. Den I thinks of some joyment sich as de
+corn huskin' and de fights and de singin' and I don't know what to do. I
+tells you one singin' but I can't sing it:
+
+  "'De moonlight, a shinin' star,
+  De big owl hootin' in de tree;
+  O, bye, my baby, ain't you gwineter sleep,
+  A-rockin' on my knee?
+
+  "'Bye, my honey baby,
+  A-rockin' on my knee,
+  Baby done gone to sleep,
+  Owl hush hootin' in de tree.
+
+  "'She gone to sleep, honey baby sleep,
+  A-rockin' on my, a-rockin' on my knee.'
+
+"Now, back to de freedom. One night 'bout ten niggers run away. De next
+day we'uns hears nothin', so I says to myself, 'De patters don't cotch
+dem.' Den I makes up my mind to go and I leaves with de chunk of meat
+and cornbread and am on my way, half skeert to death. I sho' has de eyes
+open and de ears forward, watchin' for de patters. I steps off de road
+in de night, at sight of anything, and in de day I takes to de woods. It
+takes me two days to make dat trip and jus' once de patters pass me by.
+I am in de thicket watchin' dem and I's sho' dey gwine search dat
+thicket, 'cause dey stops and am a-talkin' and lookin' my way. Dey
+stands dere for a li'l bit and den one comes my way. Lawd A-mighty! Dat
+sho' look like de end, but dat man stop and den look and look. Den he
+pick up somethin' and goes back. It am a bottle and dey all takes de
+drink and rides on. I's sho' in de sweat and I don't tarry dere long.
+
+"De Yanks am camped nere Bellfound and dere's where I gits to. 'Magine
+my 'sprise when I finds all de ten runaway niggers am dere, too. Dat am
+on a Sunday and on de Monday, de Yanks puts us on de freight train and
+we goes to Stevenson, in Alabama. Dere, us put to work buildin'
+breastworks. But after de few days, I gits sent to de headquarters at
+Nashville, in Tennessee.
+
+"I's water toter dere for de army and dere am no fightin' at first but
+'fore long dey starts de battle. Dat battle am a 'sperience for me. De
+noise am awful, jus' one steady roar of de guns and de cannons. De
+window glass in Nashville am all shoke out from de shakement of de
+cannons. Dere am dead mens all over de ground and lots of wounded and
+some cussin' and some prayin'. Some am moanin' and dis and dat one cry
+for de water and, God A-mighty, I don't want any sich 'gain. Dere am
+men carryin' de dead off da field, but dey can't keep up with de
+cannons. I helps bury de dead and den I gits sent to Murphysboro and
+dere it am jus' de same.
+
+"You knows when Abe Lincoln am shot? Well, I's in Nashville den and it
+am near de end of de war and I am standin' on Broadway Street talkin'
+with de sergeant when up walk a man and him shakes hands with me and
+says, 'I's proud to meet a brave, young fellow like you.' Dat man am
+Andrew Johnson and him come to be president after Abe's dead.
+
+"I stays in Nashville when de war am over and I marries Tennessee House
+in 1875 and she died July 10th, 1936. Dat make 61 year dat we'uns am
+togedder. Her old missy am now livin' in Arlington Heights, right here
+in Fort Worth and her name am Mallard and she come from Tennessee, too.
+
+"I comes here from Tennessee 51 year ago and at fust I farms and den I
+works for de packin' plants till dey lets me out, 'cause I's too old for
+to do 'nough work for dem.
+
+"I has eight boys and three girls, dat make eleven chillen, and dey
+makin' scatterment all over de country so I's alone in my old age. I has
+dat $17.00 de month pension what I gits from de State.
+
+"Dat am de end of de road.
+
+
+
+
+420031
+
+
+[Illustration: Sarah Ford]
+
+
+     SARAH FORD, whose age is problematical, but who says, "I's been
+     here for a long time," lives in a small cottage at 3151 Clay St.,
+     Houston, Texas. Born on the Kit Patton plantation near West
+     Columbia, Texas, Aunt Sarah was probably about fifteen years old
+     when emancipated. She had eleven children, the first born during
+     the storm of 1875, at East Columbia, in which Sarah's mother and
+     father both perished.
+
+
+"Law me, you wants me to talk 'bout slave times, and you is cotched me
+'fore I's had my coffee dis mornin', but when you gits old as I is, talk
+is 'bout all you can do, so 'scuse me whilst I puts de coffee pot on de
+fire and tell you what I can.
+
+"Now, what I tells you is de truth, 'cause I only told one little lie in
+my whole life and I got cotched in it and got whipped both ways. Oh,
+Lawd, I sho' never won't forget dat, mama sho' was mad. Mama sends me
+over to Sally Ann, the cow woman, to get some milk and onions. I never
+did like to borrow, so I comes back with the milk and tell mama Sally
+Ann say she ain't got no onions for no Africans. Dat make mamma mad and
+she goes tell dat Sally Ann Somethin'. She brung back de onions and say,
+'You, Sarah, I'll larn you not to tell no lie.' She sho' give me a
+hidin'.
+
+"Now, I tells you 'bout de plantation what I's born on. You all knows
+where West Columbia is at? Well, dat's right where I's born, on Massa
+Kit Patton's Plantation, dey calls it de Hogg place now." (Owned by
+children of Gov. Will Hogg.)
+
+"Mamma and papa belongs to Massa Kit and mama born there, too. Folks
+called her 'Little Jane,' 'cause she's no bigger'n nothing.
+
+"Papa's name was Mike and he's a tanner and he come from Tennessee and
+sold to Massa Kit by a nigger trader. He wasn't all black, he was part
+Indian. I heared him say what tribe, but I can't 'lect now. When I's
+growed mama tells me lots of things. She say de white folks don't let de
+slaves what works in de field marry none, dey jus' puts a man and
+breedin' woman together like mules. Iffen the women don't like the man
+it don't make no diff'rence, she better go or dey gives her a hidin'.
+
+"Massa Kit has two brothers, Massa Charles and Massa Matt, what lives at
+West Columbia. Massa Kit on one side Varney's Creek and Massa Charles on
+de other side. Massa Kit have a African woman from Kentucky for he wife,
+and dat's de truth. I ain't sayin' iffen she a real wife or not, but all
+de slaves has to call her 'Miss Rachel.' But iffen a bird fly up in de
+sky it mus' come down sometime, and Rachel jus' like dat bird, 'cause
+Massa Kit go crazy and die and Massa Charles take over de plantation and
+he takes Rachel and puts her to work in de field. But she don't stay in
+de field long, 'cause Massa Charles puts her in a house by herself and
+she don't work no more.
+
+"If us gits sick us call Mammy Judy. She de cook and iffen you puts a
+sugar barrel 'long side her and puts a face on dat barrel, you sho'
+can't tell it from her, she so round and fat. Iffen us git real sick dey
+calls de doctor, but iffen it a misery in de stomach or jus' de flux,
+Mammy Judy fix up some burr vine tea or horsemint tea. Dey de male burr
+vine and de female burr vine and does a woman or gal git de misery, dey
+gives 'em de female tea, and does a man, or boy chile git it, dey gives
+him de male vine tea.
+
+"Scuse me while I pours me some coffee. It sho' do fortify me. You know
+what us drink for coffee in slave times? Parched meal, and it purty good
+iffen you know's how.
+
+"Us don't have much singin' on our place, 'cepting at church on Sunday.
+Law me, de folks what works in de fields feels more like cryin' at
+night. Us chillen used to sing dis:
+
+  "'Where you goin', buzzard,
+  Where you gwine to go?
+    I's goin' down to new ground,
+  For to hunt Jim Crow.'
+
+"I guess Massa Charles, what taken us when Massa Kit die, was 'bout de
+same as all white folks what owned slaves, some good and some bad. We
+has plenty to eat--more'n I has now--and plenty clothes and shoes. But
+de overseer was Uncle Big Jake, what's black like de rest of us, but he
+so mean I 'spect de devil done make him overseer down below long time
+ago. Dat de bad part of Massa Charles, 'cause he lets Uncle Jake whip de
+slaves so much dat some like my papa what had spirit was all de time
+runnin' 'way. And even does your stomach be full, and does you have
+plenty clothes, dat bullwhip on your bare hide make you forgit de good
+part, and dat's de truth.
+
+"Uncle Big Jake sho' work de slaves from early mornin' till night. When
+you is in de field you better not lag none. When its fallin' weather de
+hands is put to work fixin' dis and dat. De woman what has li'l chillen
+don't have to work so hard. Dey works 'round de sugar house and come 11
+o'clock dey quits and cares for de babies till 1 o'clock, and den works
+till 3 o'clock and quits.
+
+"Massa Charles have a arbor and dat's where we has preachin'. One day
+old Uncle Law preachin' and he say, 'De Lawd make everyone to come in
+unity and on de level, both white and black.' When Massa Charles hears
+'bout it, he don't like it none, and de next mornin' old Uncle Jake git
+Uncle Law and put him out in de field with de rest.
+
+"Massa Charles run dat plantation jus' like a factory. Uncle Cip was
+sugar man, my papa tanner and Uncle John Austin, what have a wooden leg,
+am shoemaker and make de shoes with de brass toes. Law me, dey heaps of
+things go on in slave time what won't go on no more, 'cause de bright
+light come and it ain't dark no more for us black folks. Iffen a nigger
+run away and dey cotch him, or does he come back 'cause he hongry, I
+seed Uncle Jake stretch him out on de ground and tie he hands and feet
+to posts so he can't move none. Den he git de piece of iron what he call
+de 'slut' and what is like a block of wood with little holes in it, and
+fill de holes up with tallow and put dat iron in de fire till de grease
+sizzlin' hot and hold it over de pore nigger's back and let dat hot
+grease drap on he hide. Den he take de bullwhip and whip up and down,
+and after all dat throw de pore nigger in de stockhouse and chain him up
+a couple days with nothin' to eat. My papa carry de grease scars on he
+back till he die.
+
+"Massa Charles and Uncle Jake don't like papa, 'cause he ain't so black,
+and he had spirit, 'cause he part Indian. Do somethin' go wrong and
+Uncle Big Jake say he gwine to give papa de whippin', he runs off. One
+time he gone a whole year and he sho' look like a monkey when he gits
+back, with de hair standin' straight on he head and he face. Papa was
+mighty good to mama and me and dat de only reason he ever come back
+from runnin' 'way, to see us. He knowed he'd git a whippin' but he come
+anyway. Dey never could cotch papa when he run 'way, 'cause he part
+Indian. Massa Charles even gits old Nigger Kelly what lives over to
+Sandy Point to track papa with he dogs, but papa wade in water and dey
+can't track him.
+
+"Dey knows papa is de best tanner 'round dat part de country, so dey
+doesn't sell him off de place. I 'lect papa sayin' dere one place
+special where he hide, some German folks, de name Ebbling, I think.
+While he hides dere, he tans hides on de sly like and dey feeds him, and
+lots of mornin's when us open de cabin door on a shelf jus' 'bove is
+food for mama and me, and sometime store clothes. No one ain't see papa,
+but dere it is. One time he brung us dresses, and Uncle Big Jake heered
+'bout it and he sho' mad 'cause he can't cotch papa, and he say to mama
+he gwine to whip her 'less she tell him where papa is. Mama say, 'Fore
+God, Uncle Jake, I don't know, 'cause I ain't seed him since he run
+'way,' and jus' den papa come 'round de corner of de house. He save mama
+from de whippin' but papa got de hot grease drapped on him like I told
+you Uncle Big Jake did, and got put in de stockhouse with shackles on
+him, and kep' dere three days, and while he in dere mama has de goin'
+down pains and my sister, Rachel, is born.
+
+"When freedom come, I didn't know what dat was. I 'lect Uncle Charley
+Burns what drive de buggy for Massa Charles, come runnin' out in de yard
+and holler, 'Everybody free, everybody free,' and purty soon sojers
+comes and de captain reads a 'mation. And, Law me, dat one time Massa
+Charley can't open he mouth, 'cause de captain tell him to shut up, dat
+he'd do de talkin'. Den de captain say, 'I come to tell you de slaves is
+free and you don't have to call nobody master no more.' Well, us jus'
+mill 'round like cattle do. Massa Charley say iffen us wants to stay
+he'll pay us, all 'cepting my papa. He say, 'You can't stay here, 'cause
+you is a bad 'fluence.'
+
+"Papa left but come back with a wagon and mules what he borrows and
+loads mama and my sister and me in and us go to East Columbia on de
+Brazos river and settles down. Dey hires me out and us have our own
+patch, too, and dat de fust time I ever seed any money. Papa builds a
+cabin and a corn crib and us sho' happy, 'cause de bright light done
+come and dey no more whippin's.
+
+"One night us jus' finish eatin supper and someone holler 'Hello.' You
+know who it was holler? Old Uncle Big Jake. De black folks all hated him
+so dey wouldn't have no truck with him and he ask my papa could he stay.
+Papa didn't like him none, 'cause he done treat papa so bad, but de old
+devil jus' beg so hard papa takes him out to de corn crib and fix a
+place for him and he stay most a month till he taken sick and died.
+
+"I stays with papa and mama till I marries Wes Ford and I shows you how
+de Lawd done give and take away. Wes and I has a cabin by ourselves near
+papa's and I is jus' 'bout to have my first baby. De wind start blowin'
+and it git harder and harder and right when its de worst de baby comes.
+Dat in '75 and whilst I havin' my baby, de wind tear de cabin where mama
+and papa is to pieces and kilt 'em. My sister Rachel was with me so she
+wasn't kilt.
+
+"Well, I can't complain, 'cause de Lawd sho' been good to me. Wes and
+all 'cept four my chillen is dead now. I has six boys and five gals. But
+de ones what is alive is pore like dey mammy. But I praises de Lawd
+'cause de bright light am turned on.
+
+
+
+
+420153
+
+
+     MILLIE FORWARD, about 95 years old, was born a slave of Jason
+     Forward, in Jasper, Texas. She has spent her entire life in that
+     vicinity, and now lives in Jasper with her son, Joe McRay. Millie
+     has been totally blind for fifteen years and is very deaf.
+
+
+"Us used to live 'bout four mile east of Jasper, on de Newton Highway. I
+reckon I's 'bout 95 year old and I thank de Lawd I's been spared dis
+long. Some my old friends say I's 100, and maybe I is. I feels like it.
+
+"I's born in Alabama and mammy have jus' got up when de white folks
+brung us out west. Pappy's name Jim Forward and mammy name Mary. Dey
+lef' pappy in Alabama, 'cause he 'long to 'nother massa.
+
+"My massa name Jason Forward and he own a lot of slaves. I work as
+housegirl and wait on de white women. Missus name am Sarah Ann Forward.
+Massa Jason he own de fust drugstore in Jasper. I have de sister, Susan,
+and de brudder, Tom. Massa and missus, dey treats us jes' like dey us
+pappy and mammy.
+
+"Us have more to eat den dan us do now. Us never was knowed to be
+without meat, 'cause massa raise plenty pigs. Us have fish and possum
+and coon and deer and everything. Us have biscuits and cake, too, but us
+drink bran meal coffee. Massa and missus has no chillen and dey give us
+feast and have biscuits and cake. Befo' Christmas massa go to town and
+buy all kinds candy and toys and say, 'Millie, you go out on de gallery
+and holler and tell Santy not forgit fill your stockin' tonight.' I
+holler loud as I can and nex' mornin' my stockin' chock full.
+
+"After freedom come, us stays right on with massa and missus. Massa
+teach school for us at night. Us learn A B C and how spell cat and dog
+and nigger. Den one day he git cross and scold us and us didn't go back
+to school no more. Us didn't have sense 'nough to know he tryin' do us
+good.
+
+"Den missus git sick, but she dat good, dat when one cullud man git
+drown in de 'river she sit up in bed and make he shroud and massa feed
+de whole crowd de two days dey findin' de body. After him bury, missus
+git worse and say, 'Jason, pull down de blind, de light am so bright it
+hurt my eyes.' Den a big, white crane come light on de chimney and us
+chillen throw rocks at him, but he jes' shake he head and ruffle he
+feathers and still sit dere. I tells you dat de light of Heaven shinin'
+on missus and iffen ever a woman went dere, she did. She de bes' white
+woman I ever see. De day she die, I cry all day.
+
+"When de sojers go to de war, every man take a slave to wait on him and
+take care he camp and cook. After de end of war, when de sojers gwine
+home, don't know how many Yankees pass through Jasper, but it sound like
+de roar of a storm comin'. Every officer have he wife ridin' right by he
+side. Dey wives come to go home with dem. Dey thousands bluecoats,
+ridin' two abreas'.
+
+"When I young lady, dey have tourn'ments at Adrian Ryall place west of
+Jasper and de one what cotch de hoss bridle de most times, git crown
+queen. I gits to be queen every time. I looks like a queen now, doesn't
+I?
+
+"After us git free a long time, me and Susan and Tom us work hard and
+buy us de black land farm. But de deed git' burnt up and us didn't know
+how to git 'nother deed, and a young nigger call McRay, he come foolin'
+'round me and makin' love to me. He find out us don't have no deed no
+more and he claim dat farm and take it 'way from us and leave me with
+li'l baby boy what I names Joe Millie McRay. But never 'gain. I never
+marries.
+
+"Us done work in de cotton field and wash many a long day to pay for dat
+farm. But dat boy growed to be a good man and I live with him and he
+wife now. And he boy, Bob, am better still. He jes' work so hard and he
+buy fine li'l home in Jasper and marry de bes' gal, mos' white. Dey have
+nice fur'ture and gas and lights and everything.
+
+"Dey treat us purty good in slavery days but I'd rather be free, but it
+purty hard to be blind so long and most deaf, too, but I thank de Lawd
+I's not sufferin'. I gits de pension of 'leven dollars a month. I's so
+old I can't 'member much, only sometime, things comes to me I thought I
+forgot long time ago. I's had it purty hard to pay for de farm and den
+have it stoled from me when I's old and blind, but de good Lawd, he know
+all 'bout it and we all got to stand 'fore de jedgment some day soon.
+
+
+
+
+420051
+
+
+[Illustration: Louis Fowler]
+
+
+     LOUIS FOWLER, 84, was born a slave to Robert Beaver, in Macon Co.,
+     Georgia. Fowler did not take his father's name, but that of his
+     stepfather, J. Fowler. After he was freed, Louis farmed for several
+     years, then worked in packing plants in Fort Worth, Tex. He lives
+     at 2706 Holland St., Fort Worth.
+
+
+"Dis cullud person am 84 years old and I's born on de plantation of
+Massa Robert Beaver, in old Georgia. He owned my mammy and 'bout 50
+slaves. Now, 'bout my pappy, I lets you judge. Look at my hair. De color
+am red, ain't it? My beard am red and my eyes is brown and my skin am
+light yellow. Now, who does you think my pappy was? You don't know, of
+course, but I knows, 'cause on dat plantation am a man dat am over six
+feet tall and his hair as red as a brick.
+
+"My mammy am married to a man named Fowler and he am owned by Massa Jack
+Fowler, on de place next to ours. Our place am middlin' big and fixed
+first class. He has first-class quarter for us cullud folks. De cabins
+am two and some three rooms and dey all built of logs and chinked with a
+piece of wood and daubed with dirt to fill de cracks. De way we'uns fix
+dat dirt am take de clay or gumbo which am sticky when it am wet. Dat
+dirt am soaked with water till it stick together and den hay or straw am
+mixed with it. When sich mud am daubed in de cracks it stay and dem
+cabins am sho' windproof and warm.
+
+"De treatment am good and Massa Beaver have de choice name 'mong he
+neighbors for bein' good to he niggers. No work on Sunday, no work on
+Saturday evenin's. Dem times was for de cullud folks to do for
+demselves. Massa Beaver have it fixed disaway, he 'low each family a
+piece of groun' and dey can raise what dey likes.
+
+"De rations am measure out and de massa allus 'low plenty of meat and we
+has wheat flour. Mos' de niggers don't have wheat flour, but massa
+raises de wheat and we gits it. We kin have 'lasses and brown sugar but
+one thing we'uns has to watch am de waste, 'cause massa won't stand for
+dat.
+
+"De meat am cured with de hick'ry wood smoke and if you could git jus'
+one taste dat ham and bacon you'd never eat none of this nowadays meat.
+It sho' have a dif'rent taste.
+
+"We makes de cloth and de wool and I could card and spin and weave 'fore
+I's big 'nough to work in de field. My mammy larned me to help her. We
+makes dye from de bark of walnut and de cherry and red oak trees, and
+some from berries but what dey is I forgit. Iffen we'uns wants clay red,
+we buries de cloth in red clay for a week and it takes on de color. Den
+we soaks de cloth in cold salt water and it stays colored.
+
+"Massa builded a log church house for we'uns cullud folks for to go to
+God. Dat nigger named Allen Beaver am de preacherman and de leader in
+all de parties, 'cause him can play de fiddle. No, Allen am not
+educated, but can he preach a pow'ful sermon. O, Lawd! He am inspire
+from de Lawd and he preached from his heartfelt.
+
+"Dere am only one time dat a nigger gits whupped on dat plantation and
+dat am not given by massa but by dem patterrollers. Massa don't
+gin'rally 'low dem patterrollers whup on his place, and all de niggers
+from round dere allus run from de patterrollers onto massa's land and
+den dey safe. But in dis 'ticlar case, massa make de 'ception.
+
+"'Twas nigger Jack what dey chases home and he gits under de cabin and
+'fused to come out. Massa say, 'In dis case I gwine make 'ception,
+'cause dat Jack he am too unreas'able. He allus chasin' after some
+nigger wench and not satisfied with de pass I give. Give him 25 lashes
+but don't draw de blood or leave de marks.'
+
+"Well, sar, it am de great sight to see Jack git dat whuppin'. Him am
+skeert, but dey ain't hurtin' him bad. Massa make him come out and dey
+tie him to a post and he starts to bawl and beller befo' a lick am
+struck. Say! Him beg like a good fellow. It am, 'Oh, massa, massa, Oh,
+massa, have mercy, don't let 'em whup me. Massa, I won't go off any
+more.' De patterrollers gives him a lick and Jack lets out a yell dat
+sounds like a mule bray and twice as loud.
+
+"Dere used to be a patterroller song what sent like dis:
+
+  "Up 'de hill and down de holler
+  White man cotch nigger by de collar
+  Dat nigger run and dat nigger flew,
+  Dat nigger tore he shirt in two.'
+
+"Well, while dey's whuppin' dat nigger, Jack, he couldn't run and he
+couldn't tear he shirt in two, but he holler till he tear he mouth in
+two. Jack say he never go off without de pass 'gain and he kept he word,
+too.
+
+"De big doin's am on Christmas Day and de massa have present for each
+cullud person. Dey am little things and I laughs when I thinks of them,
+but de cullud folks sho' 'joy dem and it show massa's heart am right.
+For de chillen it am candy and for de women, a pin or sich, and for de
+men, a knife or sich. On dat day, preacherman Allen sho' have de full
+heart, and he preach and preach.
+
+"But de war starts and it not so happy on massa's place and 'fore long
+he two sons goes to dat war. De massa show worryment 'cause dey fightin'
+here and dere and den come de day when dey fight right nex' to de
+massa's place. It am in de field next to we'uns and de two boys, young
+Charley and he brother, Bob, am in de fight. It am for sev'ral days de
+army am a-marchin' to de field and gittin' ready for de battle. Durin'
+dat time, de two boys comes home for a spell every day. Early one
+mornin' de shootin' starts and it am not much at first but it ain't long
+till it am a steady thunder and it keep up all day.
+
+"De missy am walkin' in de yard and den go in de house and out 'gain.
+She am a-twistin' her hands and cryin'. She keeps sayin', 'Dey sho' gits
+kilt, my poor babies.' De massa talk to her to quiet her. Dat help me,
+too, 'cause I sho' skeert. Nobody do much work dat day, but stand round
+with quiverments and when dey talk, dey voice quiver. Why, even de
+buildin's quivered. Every once in de while, dere am an extry roar. Dat
+de cannon and every time I heered it, I jumps. I's sent to git de eggs
+and have 'bout five dozen in de basket, holdin' it in front of me with
+my two hands. All a sudden, one of dem extry shoots comes and down dis
+nigger kid go and my head hits into de basket. Dere I is, eggs oozin'
+all round me and I so skeert and fussed up I jus' lays and kicks. I
+wants to scream but I can't for de eggs in my mouth. To dis day I thinks
+of dat battle every time I eats eggs.
+
+"De nex' day after de battle am over, mos' us cullud folks goes to de
+field. Some of 'em buries de dead, and I hears 'em tell how in de low
+places de blood stand like water and de bodies all shoot to pieces.
+
+"Massa's sons not kilt and am de missy glad! She have allus colored
+folks come to de house and make us kneel down and she thank de Lawd for
+savin' her sons. Dey even go to other places and fights, but dey comes
+home after de war am over.
+
+"Surrender come and massa tells us we can stay or go and if we stay he
+pay us wages or we works on shares. Some go and some stay. Mammy and me
+goes to de Fowler place with my stepfather and we share crops for three
+year.
+
+"I stays with dem till I's 18 and den I gits married. Dat in 1871 and my
+wife died in 1928 and we'uns have four chillen. All dat time I's farmed
+till 'bout 30 year ago when I works in de packin' plant here in Fort
+Worth. I works dere 20 years and den dey say I's too old and since den I
+works at de odd jobs till 'bout five years ago.
+
+"Since I's quit work at de packin' plant it am hard for dis cullud
+person. I soon uses up my savin's and den I's gone hongry plenty times.
+My chillen am old and dey havin' de hard time, too. My friends helps me
+a little and I gits de pension, but it am only $3.00 a month and,
+course, dat ain't 'nough.
+
+"After all dese years I's worked and 'haved, I never thinks I comes to
+where I couldn't git 'nough to eat. I's am wishful for de Lawd to call
+me to jedgment.
+
+
+
+
+420307
+
+
+     CHRIS FRANKLIN, 82, was born a slave of Judge Robert J. Looney, in
+     Bossier Parish, Louisiana. Chris now lives in Beaumont, Texas, and
+     supports himself by gardening and yard work. He is thrifty and owns
+     his own home.
+
+
+"Yes, suh, dis is Chris Franklin. I signs my name C.C. Franklin, dat for
+Christopher Columbus Franklin. I's born in Bossier Parish, up in
+Louisiana, jes' twenty-five miles de other side of Shreveport. I's born
+dere in 1855, on Christmas Day, but I's raise up in Caddo Parish. Old
+massa move over dere when I 'bout a year old.
+
+"Old massa name Robert J. Looney and he a jedge and lawyer. He have a
+boy name R.J., Jr., but I's talkin' 'bout de old head, de old 'riginal.
+De missy, her name Lettie Looney. He weren't no farmer, jes' truck farm
+to raise de livin' for he household and slaves. He didn't have over a
+half dozen growed up slaves. Course, dey rears a lot of young'uns.
+
+"My pappy's name Solomon Lawson. He 'long to Jedge Lawson, what live
+near us. When freedom come, he done take de name Sol Franklin, what he
+say am he pappy's name.
+
+"Jedge Looney have de ord'nary frame house. Dey 'bout six, seven rooms
+in it, all under one roof. De dinin' room and cook room wasn't built off
+to deyself, like mos' big houses. It was a raise house, raise up on high
+pillars and dey could drive a hoss and buggy under it. He live on de
+Fairview Road.
+
+"Us slaves all live in one big slave cabin, built out of plank. It built
+sort-a like de 'partment house. Dey four rooms and each fam'ly have one
+room. Dey have a lamp and a candle for our comfort. It jes' a li'l,
+ord'nary brass lamp. Dey used to make 'em out of wax and tallow. Dey
+raise dere own bees and when dey rob de bee gums dey strain de honey and
+melt de wax with tallow to make it firmer. Dey tie one end de wick on
+de stick 'cross de mold and put in de melted wax and tallow.
+
+"Dey have a table and benches, too. But a chair de rare thing in a
+cabin. Dey make some with de split hick'ry or rawhide bottom. Dey have
+hay mattress. De tickin' am rice sacks. Us have mud chimney. Dey fix
+sticks like de ladder and mix mud and moss and grass in what dey calls
+'cats'. Dey have rock backs, and, man, us have a sho' 'nough fire in
+'em. Put a stick long as me and big as a porch post in dat fireplace. In
+cold weather dat last all day and all night.
+
+"When de parents workin' in de field, somebody look after de chillen. De
+nannies come in and nuss dem when time come. De white folks never put on
+'strictions on de chillen till dey twelve, fourteen years old. Dey all
+wear de straight-cut slip. Dey give de li'l gals de slip dress and li'l
+panties. In wintertime dey give de boy's de li'l coat and pants and
+shoes, but no drawers or unnerwear. Dey give dem hard russet shoes in
+wintertime. Dey have brass toes. Dey plenty dur'ble. In summertime us
+didn't see no shoe.
+
+"Massa Looney jes' as fine de man as ever make tracks. Christmas time
+come, he give 'em a few dollars and say go to the store and buy what us
+want. He give all de li'l nigger chillen gif's, jes' like he own. He git
+de jug of whiskey and plenty eggs and make de big eggnog for everybody.
+He treat us cullud folks jes' like he treat he own fam'ly. He never take
+no liquor 'cept at Christmas. He give us lots to eat at Christmas, too.
+
+"Sometime old missy come out and call all de li'l niggers in de house to
+play with her chillen. When us eat us have de tin plate and cup. Dey
+give us plenty milk and butter and 'taters and sich. Us all set on de
+floor and make 'way with dem rations.
+
+"Dey had a li'l church house for de niggers and preachin' in de
+afternoon, and on into de night lots of times. Dey have de cullud
+preacher. He couldn't read. He jes' preach from nat'ral wit and what he
+larn from white folks. De whole outfit profess to be Baptis'.
+
+"De marryin' business go through by what massa say. De fellow git de
+massa's consen'. Massa mos'ly say yes without waitin', 'cause marryin'
+mean more niggers for him comin' on. He git de jedge or preacher to
+marry dem. Iffen de man live on one plantation and de gal on 'nother, he
+have to git de pass to go see her. Dat so de patterrollers not git him.
+
+"De slaves used to have balls and frolics in dey cabins. But iffen dey
+go to de frolic on 'nother plantation dey git de pass. Dat so dey can
+cotch runaway niggers. I never heared of stealin' niggers, 'cept
+dis-a-way. Sometime de runaway nigger git fifty or hundred miles away
+and show up dere as de stray slave. Dat massa where he show up take care
+of him so long, den lay claim to him. Dat call harborin' de nigger.
+
+"Dey lots of places where de young massas has heirs by nigger gals. Dey
+sell dem jes' like other slaves. Dat purty common. It seem like de white
+women don't mind. Dey didn't 'ject, 'cause dat mean more slaves.
+
+"Sometimes de white folks has de big deer drive. Dem and de niggers go
+down in de bottoms to drive deers up. Dey rid big, fine hosses and start
+de deers runnin'. Dey raise dere own dogs. Massa sho' careful 'bout he
+hounds. He train dem good and treat dem good, too. He have somethin'
+cook reg'lar for dem. Dey hunts foxes and wolves and plenty dem kinds
+varmints.
+
+"I seen sojers' by de thousands. When 'mancipation come out massa come
+to de back door with de paper and say, 'Yous free.' He furnish dem with
+all dey needs and give dem part de crop. He 'vide up de pig litters and
+such 'mongst dem. He give dem de start. Den after two, three year he
+commence takin' out for dere food and boots and clothes and sich.
+
+"De night de pusson die dey has de wake and sing and pray all night
+long. Dey all very 'ligious in dere profession. Dey knock off all work
+so de slaves can go to de buryin'.
+
+"De white folks 'low dem to have de frolic with de fiddle or banjo or
+windjammer. Dey dances out on de grass, forty or fifty niggers, and dem
+big gals nineteen year old git out dere barefoot as de goose. It jes' de
+habit of de times, 'cause dey all have shoes. Sometimes dey call de jig
+dance and some of dem sho' dance it, too. De prompter call, 'All git
+ready.' Den he holler, 'All balance,' and den he sing out, 'Swing you
+pardner,' and dey does it. Den he say, 'First man head off to de right,'
+and dere dey goes. Or he say, 'All promenade,' and dey goes in de
+circle. One thing dey calls, 'Bird in de Cage.' Three joins hands round
+de gal in de middle, and dance round her, and den she git out and her
+pardner git in de center and dey dance dat way awhile.
+
+"After freedom dey have de log cabin schoolhouse. De first teacher was
+de cullud women name Mary Chapman. I near wore out dat old blueblack
+speller tryin' to larn A B C's.
+
+"I leaves Caddo Parish in 1877 for Galveston, and leaves dere on de four
+mast schooner for Leesburg and up de Calcasieu River. Den I goes to de
+Cameron Parish and in 1879 I comes to Beaumont. I marries Mandy Watson
+in 1882 and she died in 1932. Us never have no chillen but 'dopts two.
+Us marry in de hotel dinin'-room, 'cause I's workin' for de hotel man,
+J.B. Goodhue. De Rev. Elder Venable, what am da old cullud preacher,
+marries us. I didn't git marry like in slavery time, I's got a great big
+marriage certif'cate hangin' on de wall of my house.
+
+"I 'longs to several lodges, de Knights of Labor and de Knights of Honor
+and de Pilgrims. I never hold no office. I's jes' de bench member. I's a
+member of de Live Lake Missionary Baptist Church.
+
+"I's got de big house of my own, on de corner of Roberts Avenue and San
+Antonio street. After my wife die, I gits de man to come and live dere
+with me. Dat's all I knows.
+
+
+
+
+420002
+
+
+[Illustration: Orelia Alexie Franks]
+
+
+     ORELIA ALEXIE FRANKS was born on the plantation of Valerian Martin,
+     near Opelousas, Louisiana. She does not know her age, but thinks
+     she is near ninety. Her voice has the musical accent of the French
+     Negro. She has lived in Beaumont, Texas, many years.
+
+
+"I's born on Mr. George Washington's birthday', the twenty-second of
+February but I don't know what year. My old massa was Valerian Martin
+and he come from foreign country. He come from Canada and he Canada
+French. He wife name Malite Guidry. Old massa a good Catholic and he
+taken all the li'l slave chillen to be christen. Oh, he's a Christian
+massa and I used to be a Catholic but now I's a Apostolic, but I's
+christen in St. Johns Catholic Church, what am close to Lafayette, where
+I's born.
+
+"My pa name Alexis Franks and he was American and Creole. My ma name
+Fanire Martin and I's raise where everybody talk French. I talks
+American but I talks French goodest.
+
+"Old massa he big cane and cotton farmer and have big plantation and
+raise everything, and us all well treat. Dey feed us right, too. Raise
+big hawg in de pen and raise lots of beef. All jes' for to feed he
+cullud folks.
+
+"Us quarters out behind de big house and old massa come round through de
+quarters every mornin' and see how us niggers is. If us sick he call
+nuss. She old slavery woman. She come look at 'em. If dey bad sick dey
+send for de doctor. Us house all log house. Dey all dab with dirt 'tween
+de logs. Dey have dirt chimney make out of sticks and dab with mud. Dey
+[Transcriber's note: unfinished sentence at end of page]
+
+"Lots of time we eat coosh-coosh. Dat make out of meal and water. You
+bile de water and salt it, den put in de cornmeal and stir it and bile
+it. Den you puts milk or clabber or syrup on it and eat it.
+
+"Old massa have de graveyard a purpose to bury de cullud folks in. Dey
+have cullud preacher. Dey have funeral in de graveyard. Dat nigger
+preacher he a Mef'dist.
+
+"Old massa son-in-law, he overseer. He 'low nobody to beat de slaves. Us
+li'l ones git spank when we bad. Dey put us 'cross de knee and spank us
+where dey allus spank chillen.
+
+"Christmas time dey give big dinner. Dey give all de old men whiskey.
+Everybody have big time.
+
+"Dey make lots of sugar. After dey finish cookin' de sugar dey draw off
+what left from de pots and give it to us chillen. Us have candy pullin'.
+
+"Dey weave dey own cloth. Us have good clothes. Dey weave de cloth for
+make mattress and stuff 'em with moss. Massa sho' believe to serve he
+niggers good. I see old massa when he die. Us see old folks cry and us
+cry, too. Dey have de priest and burn de candles. Us sho' miss old
+massa.
+
+"I see lots of sojers. Dey so many like hair on your head. Dey Yankees.
+Dey call 'em bluejackets. Dey a fight up near massa's house. Us climb in
+tree for to see. Us hear bullets go 'zoom' through de air 'round dat
+tree but us didn't know it was bullets. A man rid up on a hoss and tell
+massa to git us pickaninnies out dat tree or dey git kilt. De Yankees
+have dat battle and den sot us niggers free.
+
+"Old massa, he de kind man what let de niggers have dey prayer-meetin'.
+He give 'em a big cabin for dat. Shout? Yes, Lawd! Sing like dis:
+
+  "'Mourner, fare you well,
+  Gawd 'Mighty bless you,
+  Till we meets again.'
+
+"Us sings 'nother song:
+
+  "'Sinner blind,
+  Johnnie, can't you ride no more?
+  Sinner blind.
+  Your feets may be slippin'
+  Your soul git lost.
+  Johnnie, can't you ride no more?
+  Yes, Lawd,
+  Day by day you can't see,
+  Johnnie, can't you ride no more?
+  Yes, Lawd.'"
+
+
+
+
+420136
+
+
+     ROSANNA FRAZIER was born a slave on the Frazier plantation in
+     Mississippi. She does not remember her masters given name, nor does
+     she know her age, although from her memories of various events
+     during the Civil War, she believes she is close to ninety, at
+     least. Rosanna is blind and bedridden, and is cared for by friends
+     in a little house in Pear Orchard Negro Settlement, in Beaumont,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"My mammy was a freeborn woman named Viny Frazier and she come from a
+free country. She was on her way to school when dey stoled her, when she
+de young gal. De spec'lator gang stoled her and brung her and sold her
+in Red River, in Mississippi. Missy Mary, she buy her. Missy Mary
+married den to one man named Pool and she have two boys call Josh and
+Bill. After dat man die, she marry Marse Frazier.
+
+"My daddy name Jerry Durden and after I's born they brings us all to
+Texas, but my daddy belong to de Neylands, so we loses him. My white
+folks moves to a big plantation close to Woodville, in Tyler County, and
+Marse Frazier have de store and plenty of stock. He come first from
+Georgia.
+
+"All us little chillen, black and white, play togedder and Marse
+Frazier, he raise us. His chillen call Sis and Texana and Robert and
+John. Marse Frazier he treat us nice and de other white folks calls us
+'free niggers', and wouldn't 'low us on dere places. Dey 'fraid dere
+niggers git dissatisfy with dey own treatment. Sho's you born, iffen one
+of us git round dem plantations, dey jus' cut us to pieces with de whip.
+Some of dem white folks sho' was mean, and dey work de niggers all day
+in de sun and cut dem with de whip, and sho' done 'em up bad. Dat on
+other places, not on ours.
+
+"Marse Frazier, he didn't work us too hard and give Saturday and Sunday
+off. He's all right and give good food. People sho' would rare off from
+him, 'cause he too good. He was de Methodist preacher and furnish us
+church. Sometimes he has camp meeting and dey cook out doors with de
+skillicks. Sometimes he has corn shucking time and we has hawg meat and
+meal bread and whiskey and eggnog and chicken.
+
+"De books he brung us didn't do us no good, 'cause us wouldn't larn
+nothin'. Us too busy playin' and huntin' good berries in de wood, de
+huckleberry and grape and muscadine and chinquapins. All dis time de war
+was fixin' and I seed two, three soldiers round spyin'. When peace
+'clared missy's two boys come back from de war. We stays with Marse
+Frazier two year and den I goes and gits married to de man call Baker.
+
+"I done been blind like dis over 40 year. One Sunday I stay all night
+with a man and he wife and I was workin' as woodchopper on de Santa Fe
+route up Beaumont to Tyler County. After us git up and I starts 'way, I
+ain't gone but 15, 16 yard when I hear somethin' say, 'Rose, you done
+somethin' you ain't ought.' I say, 'No, Lawd, no.' Den de voice say,
+'Somethin' gwine happen to you,' and de next mornin' I's blind as de bat
+and I ain't never seed since.
+
+"Some try tell me snow or sweat or smoke de reason. Dat ain't de reason.
+Dey a old, old, slowfooted somethin' from Louisiana and dey say he de
+conjure man, one dem old hoodoo niggers. He git mad at me de last
+plum-ripenin' time and he make up powdered rattlesnake dust and pass dat
+through my hair and I sho' ain't seed no more.
+
+"Dat not de onliest thing dem old conjure men do. Dey powder up de
+rattle offen de snake and tie it up in de little old rag bag and dey do
+devilment with it. Day git old scorpion and make bad medicine. Dey git
+dirt out de graveyard and dat dirt, after dey speak on it, would make
+you go crazy.
+
+"When dey wants conjure you, dey sneak round and git de hair combin' or
+de finger or toenail, or anything natural 'bout your body, and works de
+hoodoo on it.
+
+"Dey make de straw man or de clay man and dey puts de pin in he leg and
+you leg gwineter git hurt or sore jus' where dey puts de pin. Iffen dey
+puts de pin through de heart you gwineter die and ain't nothin' kin save
+you.
+
+"Dey make de charm to wear round de neck or de ankle and dey make de
+love powder, too, out de love vine, what grow in de woods. Dey biles de
+leaves and powders 'em. Dey sho' works, I done try 'em.
+
+
+
+
+420097
+
+
+[Illustration: Priscilla Gibson]
+
+
+     PRISCILLA GIBSON is not sure of her age, but thinks she was born
+     about 1856, in Smith County, Mississippi, to Mary Puckett and her
+     Indian husband. They belonged to Jesse Puckett, who owned a
+     plantation on the Strong River. Priscilla now lives in Jasper,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"Priscilla Gibson is my name, and I's bo'n in Smith County, way over in
+Mis'ippi, sometime befo' de War. I figger it was 'bout 1856, 'cause I's
+old enough to climb de fence and watch dem musterin' in de troops when
+de war began. Dey tol' me I's nine year ole when de War close, but dey
+ain' sure of dat, even. My neighbor, Uncle Bud Adams, he 83, and I's
+clippin' close at he heels.
+
+"Mammy's name was Mary Puckett, but I never seed my father as I knows
+of. Don' know if he was a whole Injun or part white man. Never seed but
+one brother and his name was Jake. Dey took him to de War with de white
+boys, to cook and min' de camp and he took pneumony and die.
+
+"Massa's name was Jesse Puckett, and Missus' name Mis' Katie. Dey hab
+big fam'ly and dey live in a big wooden-beam house with a big up-stair'.
+De house was right on de highway from Raleigh to Brandon, with de Strong
+River jis' below us. Dey took in and 'commadated travelers 'cause dey
+warn' hotels den.
+
+"Massa have hunner's of acres. You could walk all day and you never git
+offen his lan'. An' he have gran' furniture and other things in de
+house. I kin remember dem, 'cause I use' to he'p 'round de house, run
+errands and fan Mis' Katie and sich. I 'members chairs with silk
+coverin's on 'em and dere was de gran' lights, big lamps with de roses
+on de shades. And eve'ywhere de floors with rugs and de rugs was pretty,
+dey wasn' like dese thin rugs you sees nowadays. No, ma'am, dey has big
+flowers on 'em and de feets sinks in 'em. I useter lie down on one of
+dem rugs in Mis' Katie's room when she's asleep and I kin stop fannin.'
+
+"Massa Puckett was tol'able good to de slaves. We has clothes made of
+homespun what de nigger women weaved, and de little boys wo' long-tail
+shirts, with no pants till they's grown. Massa raised sheep and dey make
+us wool clothes for winter, but we has no shoes.
+
+"De white folks didn' larn us read and write but dey was good to us
+'cep' when some niggers try to run away and den dey whips 'em hard. We
+has plenty to eat and has prayer meetin's with singin' and shoutin', and
+we chilluns played marbles and jump de rope.
+
+"After freedom come all lef' but me 'cause Missus say she have me boun'
+to her till I git my age. But I's res'less one night and my sister,
+Georgy Ann, come see me, and I run off with her, but dey never comes
+after me. I was scart dey would, 'cause I 'membered 'bout our neighbor,
+ole Means, and his slave, Sylvia, and she run away and was in de woods,
+and he'd git on de hoss, take de dogs and set 'em on her, and let dem
+bite her and tear her clothes.
+
+
+
+
+420303
+
+
+     GABRIEL GILBERT was born in slavery on the plantation of Belizare
+     Brassard, in New Iberia Parish, Louisiana. He does not know his
+     age, but appears to be about eighty. He has lived in Beaumont,
+     Texas, for sixteen years.
+
+
+"My old massa was Belizare Broussard. He was my mom's massa. He had a
+big log house what he live in. De places 'tween de logs was fill with
+dirt. De quarters de slaves live in was make out of dirt. Dey put up
+posties in de ground and bore holes in de posts and put in pickets
+'cross from one post to the other. Den dey build up de sides with mud.
+De floor and everything was dirt. Dey had a schoolhouse built for de
+white chillen de same way. De cullud chillen didn't have no school.
+
+"Dem was warm healthy houses us grew up in. Dey used to raise better men
+den in dem houses dan now. My pa name was Joseph Gilbert. He old massa
+was Belleau Prince.
+
+"I didn't know what a store was when I was growin' up. Us didn't have
+store things like now. Us had wooden pan and spoon dem times. I never
+see no iron plow dem days. Nothin' was iron on de plow 'cept de share. I
+tell dese youngsters, 'You in hebben now from de time I come up.' When a
+man die dem days, dey use de ox cart to carry de corpse.
+
+"Massa have 'bout four hundred acres and lots of slaves. He raise sugar
+cane. He have a mill and make brown sugar. He raise cotton and corn,
+too. He have plenty stock on de place. He give us plenty to eat. He was
+a nice man. He wasn't brutish. He treat he slaves like hisself. I never
+'member see him whip nobody. He didn't 'low no ill treatment. All de
+folks round he place say he niggers ruint and spoiled.
+
+"De li'l white folks and nigger folks jus' play round like brudder and
+sister and us all eat at de white table. I slep' in de white folks
+house, too. My godfather and godmother was rich white folks. I still
+Cath'lic.
+
+"I seed sojers but I too li'l to know nothin' 'bout dem. Dey didn't
+worry me a-tall. I didn't git close to de battle.
+
+"My mammy weave cloth out cotton and wool. I 'member de loom. It go
+'boom-boom-boom.' Dat de shuttle goin' cross. My daddy, he de smart man.
+I'll never be like him long as I live in dis world. He make shoes. He
+build house. He do anything. He and my mammy neither one ever been
+brutalize'.
+
+"De first work I done was raisin' cotton and sugar cane and sweet and
+Irish 'taters. I used to cook sugar.
+
+"I marry on twenty-second of February. My wife was Medora Labor. She
+been dead thirty-five year now. I never marry no second woman. I love my
+wife so much I never want nobody else. Us had six chillen. Two am
+livin'.
+
+"Goin' back when I a slave, massa have a store. When de priest come dey
+hold church in dat store. Old massa have sev'ral boys. Dey went after
+some de slave gals. Dey have chillen by dem. Dem gals have dere cabins
+and dere chillen, what am half white.
+
+"After while dem boys marry. But dey allus treat dey chillen by de slave
+womens good. Dey white wife treat dem good, too, most like dey dere own
+chillen.
+
+"Old massa have plenty money. Land am only two bits de acre. Some places
+it cost nothing. Dey did haulin' in ox-carts. A man what had mules had
+something extra.
+
+"Us have plenty wild game, wild geese and ducks. Fishin' am mighty good.
+Dey was 'gaters, too. I seed dem bite a man's arm off.
+
+"If a slave feelin' bad dey wouldn't make him work. My uncle and my
+mammy dey never work nothing to speak of. Dey allus have some kind
+complaint. Ain't no tellin' what it gwine be, but you could 'low
+something ailin' dem!
+
+"I 'member dey a white man. He had a gif'. I don't care what kind of
+animal, a dog or a hoss, dat man he work on it and it never leave you or
+you house. If anybody have toothache or earache he take a brand new nail
+what ain't never work befo' and work dat round you tooth or ear. Dat
+break up de toothache or earache right away. He have li'l prayer he say.
+I don't know what it was.
+
+"I's seed ghosties. I talk with dem, too. Sometimes dey like people.
+Sometimes dey like animal, maybe white dog. I allus feel chilly when dey
+come round me. I talk with my wife after she dead. She tell me, 'Don't
+you forgit to pray.' She say dis world corrupt and you got to fight it
+out."
+
+
+
+
+420230
+
+
+     MATTIE GILMORE lives in a little cabin on E. Fifth Avenue, in
+     Corsicana, Texas. A smile came to her lips, as she recalled days
+     when she was a slave in Mobile, Alabama. She has no idea how old
+     she is. Her master, Thomas Barrow, brought his slaves to Athens,
+     Texas, during the Civil War, and Mattie had two children at that
+     time, so she is probably about ninety.
+
+
+"I's born in Mobile, Alabama, and I don't have no idea when. My white
+folks never did tell me how old I was. My own dear mammy died 'fore I
+can remember and my stepma didn't take no time to tell me nothin'. Her
+name was Mary Barrow and papa's name was Allison Barrow, and I had
+sisters, Rachel and Lou and Charity, and a brother, Allison.
+
+"My master sold Rachel when she was jus' a girl. I sho' did cry. They
+put her on a block and sold her off. I heared they got a thousand
+dollars for her, but I never seed her no more till after freedom. A man
+named Dick Burdon, from Kaufman County, bought her. After freedom I
+heared she's sick and brung her home, but she was too far gone.
+
+"We lived in a log house with dirt floors, warm in winter but sho' hot
+in summer, no screens or nothin', jus' homemade doors. We had homemade
+beds out of planks they picked up around. Mattresses nothin', we had
+shuck beds. But, anyway, you takes it, we was better off den dan now.
+
+"I worked in the fields till Rachel was sold, den tooken her place,
+doin' kitchen work and fannin' flies off de table with a great, long
+limb. I liked dat. I got plenty to eat and not so hot. We had jus' food
+to make you stand up and work. It wasn't none the good foolish things we
+has now. We had cornbread and blackeyed peas and beans and sorghum
+'lasses. Old master give us our rations and iffen dat didn't fill us up,
+we jus' went lank. Sometimes we had possum and rabbits and fish, iffen
+we cotched dem on Sunday. I seed Old Missy parch coffee in a skittle,
+and it good coffee, too. We couldn't go to the store and buy things,
+'cause they warn't no stores hardly.
+
+"When dey's hoein' cotton or corn, everybody has to keep up with de
+driver, not hurry so fast, but workin' steady. Some de women what had
+suckin' babies left dem in de shade while dey worked, and one time a
+big, bald eagle flew down by one dem babies and picked it up and flew
+away with it. De mama couldn't git it and we never heared of dat baby
+'gain.
+
+"I 'member when we come from Mobile to Texas. By time we heared de
+Yankees was comin' dey got all dere gold together and Miss Jane called
+me and give me a whole sack of pure gold and silver, and say bury it in
+de orchard. I sho' was scart, but I done what she said. Dey was more
+gold in a big desk, and de Yanks pulled de top of dat desk and got de
+gold. Miss Jane had a purty gold ring on her finger and de captain
+yanked it off. I said, 'Miss Jane, is dey gwine give you ring back?' All
+she said was, 'Shet you mouth,' and dat's what I did.
+
+"Dat night dey digs up de buried gold and we left out. We jus' traveled
+at night and rested in daytime. We was scart to make a fire. Dat was
+awful times. All on de way to de Mississip', we seed dead men layin'
+everywhere, black and white.
+
+"While we's waitin' to go cross de Mississip' a white man come up and
+asks Marse Barrow how many niggers he has, and counts us all. While we's
+waitin' de guns 'gins to go boom, boom, and you could hear all dat
+noise, it so close. When we gits on de boat it flops dis way and dat
+scart me. I sho' don't want to see no more days like dat one, with war
+and boats.
+
+"We fixes up a purty good house and quarters and gits settled up round
+Athens. And it ain't so long 'fore a paper come make us free. Some de
+slaves laughin' and some cryin' and it a funny place to be. Marse Barrow
+asks my stepma to stay cook and he'd pay her some money for it. We
+stayed four or five years. Marse Barrow give each he slaves somethin'
+when dey's freed. Lots of master put dem out without a thing. But de
+trouble with most niggers, dey never done no managin' and didn't know
+how. De niggers suffered from de war, iffen dey did git freedom from it.
+
+"I's already married de slave way in Mobile and had three chillen. My
+husband died 'fore war am over and I marries Las Gilmore and never has
+no more chillen. I has no livin' kinfolks I knows of. When we come here
+Las done any work he could git and bought this li'l house, but I can't
+pay taxes on it, but, sho', de white folks won't put me out. I done git
+my leg cut off in a train wreck, so I can't work, and I's too old,
+noways. I don't has no idea how old I is.
+
+
+
+
+420245
+
+
+[Illustration: Andrew Goodman]
+
+
+     ANDREW GOODMAN, 97, was born a slave of the Goodman family, near
+     Birmingham, Alabama. His master moved to Smith County, Texas, when
+     Andrew was three years old. Andrew is a frail, kindly old man, who
+     lives in his memories. He lives at 2607 Canton St., Dallas, Texas.
+
+
+"I was born in slavery and I think them days was better for the niggers
+than the days we see now. One thing was, I never was cold and hongry
+when my old master lived, and I has been plenty hongry and cold a lot of
+times since he is gone. But sometimes I think Marse Goodman was the
+bestes' man Gawd made in a long time.
+
+"My mother, Martha Goodman, 'longed to Marse Bob Goodman when she was
+born, but my paw come from Tennessee and Marse Bob heired him from some
+of his kinfolks what died over there. The Goodmans must have been fine
+folks all-a-way round, 'cause my paw said them that raised him was good
+to they niggers.
+
+"Old Marse never 'lowed none of his nigger families separated. He 'lowed
+he thought it right and fittin' that folks stay together, though I heard
+tell of some that didn't think so.
+
+"My Missus was just as good as Marse Bob. My maw was a puny little woman
+that wasn't able to do work in the fields, and she puttered round the
+house for the Missus, doin' little odd jobs. I played round with little
+Miss Sallie and little Mr. Bob, and I ate with them and slept with them.
+I used to sweep off the steps and do things, and she'd brag on me and
+many is the time I'd git to noddin' and go to sleep, and she'd pick me
+up and put me in bed with her chillun.
+
+"Marse Bob didn't put his little niggers in the fields till they's big
+'nough to work, and the mammies was give time off from the fields to
+come back to the nursin' home to suck the babies. He didn't never put
+the niggers out in bad weather. He give us something to do, in out of
+the weather, like shellin' corn and the women could spin and knit. They
+made us plenty of good clothes. In summer we wore long shirts, split up
+the sides, made out of lowerings--that's same as cotton sacks was made
+out of. In winter we had good jeans and knitted sweaters and knitted
+socks.
+
+"My paw was a shoemaker. He'd take a calfhide and make shoes with the
+hairy sides turned in, and they was warm and kept your feet dry. My maw
+spent a lot of time cardin' and spinnin' wool, and I allus had plenty
+things.
+
+"Life was purty fine with Marse Bob. He was a man of plenty. He had a
+lot of land and he built him a big log house when he come to Texas. He
+had sev'ral hundred head of cattle and more than that many hawgs. We
+raised cotton and grain and chickens and vegetables, and most anything
+anybody could ask for. Some places the masters give out a peck of meal
+and so many pounds of meat to a family for them a week's rations, and if
+they et it up that was all they got. But Marse Bob allus give out
+plenty, and said, 'If you need more you can have it, 'cause ain't any
+going to suffer on my place.'
+
+"He built us a church, and a old man, Kenneth Lyons, who was a slave of
+the Lyon's family nearby, used to git a pass every Sunday mornin' and
+come preach to us. He was a man of good learnin' and the best preacher I
+ever heard. He baptised in a little old mudhole down back of our place.
+Nearly all the boys and gals gits converted when they's 'bout twelve or
+fifteen year old. Then on Sunday afternoon, Marse Bob larned us to read
+and write. He told us we oughta git all the learnin' we could.
+
+"Once a week the slaves could have any night they want for a dance or
+frolic. Mance McQueen was a slave 'longing on the Dewberry place, what
+could play a fiddle, and his master give him a pass to come play for us.
+Marse Bob give us chickens or kilt a fresh beef or let us make 'lasses
+candy. We could choose any night, 'cept in the fall of the year. Then we
+worked awful hard and didn't have the time. We had a gin run by
+horsepower and after sundown, when we left the fields, we used to gin a
+bale of cotton every night. Marse allus give us from Christmas Eve
+through New Year's Day off, to make up for the hard work in the fall.
+
+"Christmas time everybody got a present and Marse Bob give a big hawg to
+every four families. We had money to buy whiskey with. In spare time
+we'd make cornshuck horse collars and all kinds of baskets, and Marse
+bought them off us. What he couldn't use, he sold for us. We'd take post
+oak and split it thin with drawin' knives and let it git tough in the
+sun, and then weave it into cotton baskets and fish baskets and little
+fancy baskets. The men spent they money on whiskey, 'cause everything
+else was furnished. We raised our own tobacco and hung it in the barn to
+season, and a'body could go git it when they wanted it.
+
+"We allus got Saturday afternoons off to fish and hunt. We used to have
+fish fries and plenty game in them days.
+
+"Course, we used to hear 'bout other places where they had nigger
+drivers and beat the slaves. But I never did see or hear tell of one of
+master's slaves gittin' a beatin'. We had a overseer, but didn't know
+what a nigger driver was. Marse Bob had some nigger dogs like other
+places, and used to train them for fun. He'd git some the boys to run
+for a hour or so and then put the dogs on the trail. He'd say, 'If you
+hear them gittin' near, take to a tree.' But Marse Bob never had no
+niggers to run off.
+
+"Old man Briscoll, who had a place next to ours, was vicious cruel. He
+was mean to his own blood, beatin' his chillen. His slaves was afeared
+all the time and hated him. Old Charlie, a good, old man who 'longed to
+him, run away and stayed six months in the woods 'fore Briscoll cotched
+him. The niggers used to help feed him, but one day a nigger 'trayed
+him, and Briscoe put the dogs on him and cotched him. He made to Charlie
+like he wasn't goin' to hurt him none, and got him to come peaceful.
+When he took him home, he tied him and beat him for a turrible long
+time. Then he took a big, pine torch and let burnin' pitch drop in spots
+all over him. Old Charlie was sick 'bout four months and then he died.
+
+"Marse Bob knowed me better'n most the slaves, 'cause I was round the
+house more. One day he called all the slaves to the yard. He only had
+sixty-six then, 'cause he had 'vided with his son and daughter when they
+married. He made a little speech. He said, 'I'm going to a war, but I
+don't think I'll be gone long, and I'm turnin' the overseer off and
+leavin' Andrew in charge of the place, and I wants everything to go on,
+just like I was here. Now, you all mind what Andrew says, 'cause if you
+don't, I'll make it rough on you when I come back home.' He was jokin',
+though, 'cause he wouldn't have done nothing to them.
+
+"Then he said to me, 'Andrew, you is old 'nough to be a man and look
+after things. Take care of Missus and see that none the niggers wants,
+and try to keep the place going.'
+
+"We didn't know what the war was 'bout, but master was gone four years.
+When Old Missus heard from him, she'd call all the slaves and tell us
+the news and read us his letters. Little parts of it she wouldn't read.
+We never heard of him gittin' hurt none, but if he had, Old Missus
+wouldn't tell us, 'cause the niggers used to cry and pray over him all
+the time. We never heard tell what the war was 'bout.
+
+"When Marse Bob come home, he sent for all the slaves. He was sittin' in
+a yard chair, all tuckered out, and shuck hands all round, and said he's
+glad to see us. Then he said, 'I got something to tell you. You is jus'
+as free as I is. You don't 'long to nobody but you'selves. We went to
+the war and fought, but the Yankees done whup us, and they say the
+niggers is free. You can go where you wants to go, or you can stay here,
+jus' as you likes.' He couldn't help but cry.
+
+"The niggers cry and don't know much what Marse Bob means. They is sorry
+'bout the freedom, 'cause they don't know where to go, and they's allus
+'pend on Old Marse to look after them. Three families went to get farms
+for theyselves, but the rest just stay on for hands on the old place.
+
+"The Federals has been comin' by, even 'fore Old Marse come home. They
+all come by, carryin' they little budgets, and if they was walkin'
+they'd look in the stables for a horse or mule, and they jus' took what
+they wanted of corn or livestock. They done the same after Marse Bob
+come home. He jus' said, 'Let them go they way, 'cause that's what
+they're going to do, anyway.' We was scareder of them than we was of the
+debbil. But they spoke right kindly to us cullud folks. They said, 'If
+you got a good master and want to stay, well, you can do that, but now
+you can go where you want to, 'cause ain't nobody going to stop you.'
+
+"The niggers can't hardly git used to the idea. When they wants to leave
+the place, they still go up to the big house for a pass. They jus' can't
+understand 'bout the freedom. Old Marse or Missus say, 'You don't need
+no pass. All you got to do is jus' take you foot in you hand and go.'
+
+"It seem like the war jus' plumb broke Old Marse up. It wasn't long till
+he moved into Tyler and left my paw runnin' the farm on a halfance with
+him and the niggers workers. He didn't live long, but I forgits jus' how
+long. But when Mr. Bob heired the old place, he 'lowed we'd jus' go
+'long the way his paw has made the trade with my paw.
+
+"Young Mr. Bob 'parently done the first rascality I ever heard of a
+Goodman doin'. The first year we worked for him we raised lots of grain
+and other things and fifty-seven bales of cotton. Cotton was fifty-two
+cents a pound and he shipped it all away, but all he ever gave us was a
+box of candy and a sack of store tobacco and a sack of sugar. He said
+the 'signment done got lost. Paw said to let it go, 'cause we had allus
+lived by what the Goodman had said.
+
+"I got married and lived on the old place till I was in my late fifties.
+I had seven chillun, but if I got any livin' now, I don't know where
+they is now. My paw and maw got to own a little piece of land not far
+from the old place, and paw lived to be 102 and maw 106. I'm the last
+one of any of my folks.
+
+"For twenty years my health ain't been so good, and I can't work even
+now, though my health is better'n in the past. I had hemorraghes. All my
+folks died on me, and it's purty rough on a old man like me. My white
+folks is all dead or I wouldn't be 'lowed to go hongry and cold like I
+do, or have to pay rent.
+
+
+
+
+420060
+
+
+[Illustration: Austin Grant (A)]
+
+[Illustration: Austin Grant (B)]
+
+
+     AUSTIN GRANT came to Texas from Mississippi with his grandfather,
+     father, mother and brother. George Harper owned the family. He
+     raised cotton on Peach Creek, near Gonzales. Austin was hired out
+     by his master and after the war his father hired him out to the
+     Riley Ranch on Seco Creek, above D'hanis. He then bought a farm in
+     the slave settlement north of Hondo. He is 89 or 90 years old.
+
+
+"I'm mixed up on my age, I'm 'fraid, for the Bible got burned up that
+the master's wife had our ages in. She told me my age, which would make
+me 89, but I believe I come nearer bein' 91, accordin' to the way my
+mother figured it out.
+
+"I belonged to George Harper, he was Judge Harper. The' was my father,
+mother and two boys. He brought us from Mississippi, but I don' 'member
+what part they come from. We settled down here at Gonzeles, on Peach
+Creek, and he farmed one year there. Then he moved out here to Medina
+County, right here on Hondo Creek. I dont 'member how many acres he had,
+but he had a big farm. He had at least eight whole slave families. He
+sold 'em when he wanted money.
+
+"My mother's name was Mary Harper and my father's name was Ike Harper,
+and they belonged to the Harpers, too. You know, after they was turned
+loose they had to name themselves. My father named himself Grant and his
+brother named himself Glover, and my grandfather was Filmore. They had
+some kin' of law you had to git away from your boss' name so they named
+themselves.
+
+"Our house we had to live in, I tell you we had a tough affair, a picket
+concern, you might say no house a-tall. The beds was one of your own
+make; if you knowed how to make one, you had one, but of course the
+chillen slept on the floor, patched up some way.
+
+"We went barefooted in the summer and winter, too. You had to prepare
+that for yourself, and if you didn' have head enough to prepare for
+yourself, you went without. I don' see how they done as well as they
+done, 'cause some winters was awful cold, but I always said the Lawd was
+with 'em.
+
+[Handwritten Note: 'used']
+
+"We didn' have no little garden, we never had no time to work no garden.
+When you could see to work, you was workin' for him. Ho! You didn' know
+what money was. He never paid you anything, you never got to see none.
+Some of the Germans would give the old ones a little piece of money, but
+the chillen, pshaw! They never got to see nothin.'
+
+"He was a pretty good boss. You didn' have to work Sunday and part of
+Saturday and in the evenin', you had that. He fed us good. Sometimes, if
+you was crowded, you had to work all day Saturday. But usually he give
+you that, so you could wash and weave cloth or such. He had cullud women
+there he kep' all the time to weave and spin. They kep' cloth made.
+
+"On Saturday nights, we jes' knocked 'round the place. Christmas? I don'
+know as I was ever home Christmas. My boss kep' me hired out. The slaves
+never had no Christmas presents I know of. And big dinners, I never was
+at nary one. They didn' give us nothin, I tell you, but a grubbin' hoe
+and axe and the whip. They had co'n shuckin's in them days and co'n
+shellin's, too. We would shuck so many days and so many days to shell it
+up.
+
+"We would shoot marbles when we was little. It was all the game the
+niggers ever knowed, was shootin' marbles.
+
+"After work at nights there wasn't much settin' 'round; you'd fall into
+bed and go to sleep. On Saturday night they didn' git together, they
+would jes' sing at their own houses. Oh, yes'm, I 'member 'em singin'
+'Run, nigger, run,' but it's too far back for me to 'member those other
+songs. They would raise up a song when they was pickin' cotton, but I
+don' 'member much about those songs.
+
+"My old boss, I'm boun' to give him praise, he treated his niggers
+right. He made 'em work, though, and he whipped 'em, too. But he fed
+good, too. We had rabbits and possums once in awhile. Hardly ever any
+game, but you might git a deer sometimes.
+
+"Let 'em ketch you with a gun or a piece of paper with writin' on it and
+he'd whip you like everything. Some of the slaves, if they ever did git
+a piece of paper, they would keep it and learn a few words. But they
+didn' want you to know nothin', that's what, nothin' but work. You would
+think they was goin' to kill you, he would whip you so if he caught you
+with a piece of paper. You couldn' have nothin' but a pick and axe and
+grubbin' hoe.
+
+"We never got to play none. Our boss hired us out lots of times. I don'
+know what he got for us. We farmed, cut wood, grubbed, anything. I
+herded sheep and I picked cotton.
+
+"We got up early, you betcha. You would be out there by time you could
+see and you quit when it was dark. They tasked us. They would give us
+200 or 300 pounds of cotton to bring in and you would git it, and if you
+didn' git it, you better, or you would git it tomorrow, or your back
+would git it. Or you'd git it from someone else, maybe steal it from
+their sacks.
+
+"My grandfather, he would tell us things, to keep the whip off our
+backs. He would say, 'Chillen, work, work and work hard. You know how
+you hate to be whipped, so work hard!' And of course we chillen tried,
+but of course we would git careless sometimes.
+
+"The master had a 'black snake'--some called it a 'bull whip,' and he
+knew how to use it. He whipped, but I don' 'member now whether he
+brought any blood on me, but he cut the blood outta the grown ones. He
+didn' tie 'em, he always had a whippin' block or log to make 'em lay
+down on. They called 500 licks a 'light breshin,' and right on your
+naked back, too. They said your clothes wouldn' grow but your hide
+would. From what I heered say, if you run away, then was when they give
+you a whippin,' prob'bly 1500 or 2000 licks. They'd shore tie you down
+then, 'cause you couldn' stan' it. Then you'd have to work on top of all
+that, with your shirt stickin' to your back.
+
+"The overseer woke us up. Sometimes he had a kin' of horn to blow, and
+when you heered that horn, you'd better git up. He would give you a good
+whippin' iffen he had to come and wake you up. He was the meanest one on
+the place, worse'n the boss man.
+
+"The boss man had a nice rock house, and the women didn' work at all.
+
+"I never did see any slaves auctioned off, but I heered of it. My boss
+he would take 'em there and sell 'em.
+
+"They had a church this side of New Fountain and the boss man 'lowed us
+to go on Sunday. If any of the slaves did join, they didn' baptize them,
+as I know of.
+
+"When one of the slaves would die, they would bury 'em on the land
+there. Reg'lar little cemetery there. Oh, yes, they would have doctors
+for 'em. If anybody died, they would tell some of the other slaves to
+dig the grave and take 'em out there and bury 'em. They jes' put 'em in
+a box, no preachin' or nothin.' But, of course, if it was Sunday the
+slaves would follow out there and sing. No, if they didn' die on Sunday,
+you couldn' go; you went to that field.
+
+"If you wanted to go to any other plantation you had to git a pass to go
+over there, and if you didn' and got caught, you got one of the worst
+whippins'. If things happened and they wanted to tell 'em on other
+plantations, they would slip out at night and tell 'em.
+
+"We never heered much about the fightin' or how it was goin.' When the
+war finally was over, our old boss called us all up and had us to stand
+in abreast, and he stood on the gallery and he read the verdict to 'em,
+and said, 'Now, you can jes' work on if you want to, and I'll treat you
+jes' like I always did.' I guess when he said that they knew what he
+meant. The' wasn't but one family left with 'im. They stayed about two
+years. But the rest was just like birds, they jes' flew.
+
+"I went with my father and he hired me out for two years, to a man named
+Riley, over on the Seco. I did most everythin', worked the field and was
+house rustler, too. But I had a good time there. After I left 'im, I
+came to D'Hanis. I worked on a church house they was buildin'. Then I
+went back to my father and worked for him a long time, freightin' cotton
+to Eagle Pass. I used horses and mules and hauled cotton and flour and
+whiskey and things like that.
+
+"I met my wife down on Black Creek, and I freighted two years after we
+was married. We got married so long ago, but in them days anything would
+do. You see, these days they are so proud, but we was glad to have
+anything. I had a black suit to be married in, and a pretty long shirt,
+and I wore boots. She wore a white dress, but in them days they didn'
+have black shoes. Yes'm, they had a dance, down here on Black Creek.
+Danced half the night at her house and two men played the fiddle. Eat?
+We had everythin' to eat, a barbecued calf and a hog, too, and all kinds
+of cakes and pies. Drink? Why, the men had whiskey to drink and the
+women drank coffee. We married about 7 or 8 in the evenin' at her house.
+My wife's name was Sarah Ann Brackins.
+
+"Did I see a ghost? Well, over yonder on the creek was a ghost. It was a
+moonlight night and it passed right by me and it never had no head on it
+a-tall. It almost breshed me. It kep' walkin' right by side of me. I
+shore saw it and I run like a good fellow. Lots of 'em could see
+wonnurful sights then and I heered lots of noises, but that's the only
+ghost I ever seen.
+
+"No, I never knowed nothing 'bout charms. I've seen 'em have a rabbit
+heel or coon heel for good luck. I seen a woman one time that was
+tricked, or what I'd call poisoned. A place on her let, it was jes' the
+shape of these little old striped lizards. It was somethin' they called
+'trickin it,' and a person that knowed to trick you would put it there
+to make you suffer the balance of your days. It would go 'round your leg
+clear to the hip and be between the skin and the flesh. They called it
+the devil's work."
+
+
+
+
+420118
+
+
+[Illustration: James Green]
+
+
+     JAMES GREEN is half American Indian and half Negro. He was born a
+     slave to John Williams, of Petersburg, Va., became a "free boy",
+     then was kidnapped and sold in a Virginia slave market to a Texas
+     ranchman. He now lives at 323 N. Olive St., San Antonio, Texas.
+
+
+"I never knowed my age till after de war, when I's set free de second
+time, and then marster gits out a big book and it shows I's 25 year old.
+It shows I's 12 when I is bought and $800 is paid for me. That $800 was
+stolen money, 'cause I was kidnapped and dis is how it come:
+
+"My mammy was owned by John Williams in Petersburg, in Virginia, and I
+come born to her on dat plantation. Den my father set 'bout to git me
+free, 'cause he a full-blooded Indian and done some big favor for a big
+man high up in de courts, and he gits me set free, and den Marster
+Williams laughs and calls me 'free boy.'
+
+"Then, one day along come a Friday and that a unlucky star day and I
+playin' round de house and Marster Williams come up and say, 'Delia,
+will you 'low Jim walk down de street with me?' My mammy say, 'All
+right, Jim, you be a good boy,' and dat de las' time I ever heared her
+speak, or ever see her. We walks down whar de houses grows close
+together and pretty soon comes to de slave market. I ain't seed it
+'fore, but when Marster Williams says, 'Git up on de block,' I got a
+funny feelin', and I knows what has happened. I's sold to Marster John
+Pinchback and he had de St. Vitus dance and he likes to make he niggers
+suffer to make up for his squirmin' and twistin' and he the bigges'
+debbil on earth.
+
+"We leaves right away for Texas and goes to marster's ranch in Columbus.
+It was owned by him and a man call Wright, and when we gits there I's
+put to work without nothin' to eat. Dat night I makes up my mind to run
+away but de nex' day dey takes me and de other niggers to look at de
+dogs and chooses me to train de dogs with. I's told I had to play I
+runnin' away and to run five mile in any way and then climb a tree. One
+of de niggers tells me kind of nice to climb as high in dat tree as I
+could if I didn't want my body tore off my legs. So I runs a good five
+miles and climbs up in de tree whar de branches is gettin' small.
+
+"I sits dere a long time and den sees de dogs comin'. When dey gits
+under de tree dey sees me and starts barkin'. After dat I never got
+thinkin' of runnin' away.
+
+"Time goes on and de war come along, but everything goes on like it did.
+Some niggers dies, but more was born, 'cause old Pinchback sees to dat.
+He breeds niggers as quick as he can, 'cause dat money for him. No one
+had no say who he have for wife. But de nigger husbands wasn't de only
+ones dat keeps up havin' chillen, 'cause de marsters and de drivers
+takes all de nigger gals dey wants. Den de chillen was brown and I seed
+one clear white one, but dey slaves jus' de same.
+
+"De end of dat war comes and old Pinchback says, 'You niggers all come
+to de big house in de mornin'. He tells us we is free and he opens his
+book and gives us all a name and tells us whar we comes from and how old
+we is, and says he pay us 40 cents a day to stay with him. I stays 'bout
+a year and dere's no big change. De same houses and some got whipped but
+nobody got nailed to a tree by de ears, like dey used to. Finally old
+Pinchback dies and when he buried de lightnin' come and split de grave
+and de coffin wide open.
+
+"Well, time goes on some more and den Lizzie and me, we gits together
+and we marries reg'lar with a real weddin'. We's been together a long
+time and we is happy.
+
+"I 'members a old song like dis:
+
+  "'Old marster eats beef and sucks on de bone,
+          And give us de gristle--
+      To make, to make, to make, to make,
+          To make de nigger whistle.'
+
+"Dat all de song I 'member from dose old days, 'ceptin' one more:
+
+  "'I goes to church in early morn,
+  De birds just a-sittin' on de tree--
+  Sometimes my clothes gits very much worn--
+  'Cause I wears 'em out at de knee.
+
+  "'I sings and shouts with all my might,
+      To drive away de cold--
+  And de bells keep ringin' in gospel light,
+      Till de story of de Lamb am told.'"
+
+
+
+
+420064
+
+
+[Illustration: O.W. Green and Granddaughter]
+
+
+     O.W. Green, son of Frank and of Mary Ann Marks, was born in slavery
+     at Bradly Co., Arkansas, June 26, 1859. His owners, the Mobley
+     family, owned a large plantation and two or three thousand slaves.
+     Jack Mobley, Green's young master, was killed in the Civil War, and
+     Green became one of the "orphan chillen." When the Ku Klux Klan
+     became active, the "orphan chillen" were taken to Little Rock, Ark.
+     Later on, Green moved to Del Rio, Texas, where he now lives.
+
+
+"I was bo'ned in Arkansas. Frank Marks was my father and Mary Ann Marks
+my mother. She was bo'n on the plantation. I had two brothers.
+
+"I don' 'member de quarters, but dey mus' of had plenty, 'cause dey was
+two, three thousand slaves on de plantation. All my kin people belonged
+to Massa Mobley. My grandfather was a millman and dey had one de bigges'
+grist mills in de country.
+
+"Our Massa was good and we had plenty for to eat. Dere was no jail for
+slaves on our place but not far from dere was a jail.
+
+"De Ku Klux Klan made everything pretty squally, so dey taken de orphan
+chillen to Little Rock and kep' 'em two, three years. Dere was lots of
+slaves in dat country 'round Rob Roy and Free Nigger Bend. Old
+Churchill, who used to be governor, had a plantation in dere.
+
+"When I was nine years ol' dey had de Bruce and Baxter revolution. 'Twas
+more runnin' dan fightin'. Bruce was 'lected for governor but Baxter
+said he'd be governor if he had to run Brooks into de sea.
+
+"My young Massa, Jack Mobley, was killed in de war, is how I come to be
+one of de orphan chillen.
+
+"While us orphan chillen was at Little Rock dere come a terrible
+soreness of de eyes. I heard tell 'twas caused from de cholera. Every
+little child had to take turns about sittin' by de babies or totin'
+them. I was so blind, my eyes was so sore, I couldn't see. The doctor's
+wife was working with us. She was tryin' to figure up a cure for our
+sore eyes, first using one remedy and den another. An old herb doctor
+told her about a herb he had used on de plantations to cure de slaves'
+sore eyes. Dey boiled de herb and put hit on our eyes, on a white cloth.
+De doctor's wife had a little boy about my age. He would play with me,
+and thought I was about hit. He would lead me around, then he would run
+off and leave me and see if I could see. One day between 'leven and
+twelve o'clock--I never will fergit hit--he taken me down to de mess
+room. De lady was not quite ready to dress my eyes. She told me to go on
+and come back in a little while. When I got outside I tore dat old rag
+off of my eyes and throwed hit down. I told the little boy, 'O, I can
+see you!' He grabbed me by de arm and ran yellin' to his mammy, 'Mama,
+he can see! Mama, Owen can see!' I neva will fo'git dat word. Dey were
+all in so a rejoicin', excitable way. I was de first one had his eyes
+cured. Dey sent de lady to New York and she made plenty of money from
+her remedy.
+
+"Things sure was turrible durin' de war. Dey just driv us in front of de
+soldiers. Dere was lots of cholera. We was just bedded together lak
+hogs. The Ku Klux Klan come behind de soldiers, killin' and robbin'.
+
+"After two or three years in de camp with de orphans, my kin found me
+and took me home.
+
+"My grandfather and uncle was in de fightin'. My grandfather was a wagon
+man. De las' trip he made, he come home bringin' a load of dead soldiers
+to be buried. My grandfather told de people all about de war. He said
+hit sure was terrible.
+
+"When de war was over de people jus' shouted for joy. De men and women
+jus' shouted for joy. 'Twas only because of de prayers of de cullud
+people, dey was freed, and de Lawd worked through Lincoln.
+
+"My old masta was a doctor and a surgeon. He trained my grandmother; she
+worked under him thirty-seven years as a nurse. When old masta wanted
+grandmother to go on a special case he would whip her so she wouldn't
+tell none of his secrets. Grandmother used herbs fo' medicine--black
+snake root, sasparilla, blackberry briar roots--and nearly all de
+young'uns she fooled with she save from diarrhea.
+
+"My old masta was good, but when he found you shoutin' he burnt your
+hand. My grandmother said he burnt her hand several times. Masta
+wouldn't let de cullud folks have meetin', but dey would go out in de
+woods in secret to pray and preach and shout.
+
+"I jist picked up enough readin' to read my bible and scratch my name. I
+went to school one mo'ning and didn't git along wid de teacher so I
+didn't go no mo'.
+
+"I 'member my folks had big times come Christmas. Dey never did work on
+Sundays, jist set around and rest. Dey never worked in bad weather. Dey
+never did go to de field till seven o'clock.
+
+"I married in 1919. I have two step-daughters and one step-son. My
+step-son lives in San Antonio. I have six step-grandchillen. I was a
+member of de Baptist church befo' you was bo'n, lady.
+
+
+
+
+420394
+
+
+Dibble, Fred
+Beaumont, Jefferson Co. Dist. #3
+
+     ROSA GREEN, 85 years old, was born at Ketchi, Louisiana, but as
+     soon as she was old enough became a housegirl on the plantation of
+     Major "Bob" Hollingsworth at Mansfield, Louisiana. To the best of
+     her knowledge, she was about 13 when the "freedom papers" were
+     read. She had had 13 children by her two husbands, both deceased,
+     and lives with her youngest daughter in Beaumont. Their one-room,
+     unpainted house is one of a dozen unprepossessing structures
+     bordering an alleyway leading off Pine Street. Rosa, a spry little
+     figure, crowned with short, snow-white pigtails extending in
+     various directions, spends most of her time tending her small
+     flowerbeds and vegetable garden. She is talkative and her memory
+     seems quite active.
+
+
+"When de w'ite folks read de freedom paper I was 13 year old. I jes'
+lean up agin de porch, 'cause I didn' know den what it was all about. I
+war'nt bo'n in Texas, I was bo'n in Ketchi, but I was rais' in Manfiel'.
+Law, yes, I 'member de fight at Manfiel'. My ol' marster tuk all he
+niggers and lef' at night. Lef' us little ones; say de Yankees could git
+us effen day wan' to, 'cause we no good no way, and I wouldn' care if
+dey did git us. Dey put us in a sugar hogshead and give us a spoon to
+scrape out de sugar. 'Bout de ol' plantation, I work a little w'ile in
+de fiel'. I didn' know den like I see now. Dese chillen bo'n wid mo'
+sense now dan we was den. Dey was 'bout ten cullud folks on de place. My
+ol' marster name Bob Hollingsworth, but dey call 'im Major, 'cause he
+was a major in de war, not de las' one, but de one way back yonder. Ol'
+missus work de little ones roun' de house and under de house and kep'
+ev'yt'ing clean as yo' han'. The ol' marster I thought was de meanes'
+man de Lawd ever made. Look like he cuss ev'y time he open he mouth. De
+neighbor w'ite folks, some good, some bad. My work was cleanin' up 'roun
+de house and nussin' de chillen. Only times I went to church when day
+tuk us long to min' de chillen. When de battle of Manfiel' was, we didn'
+git out much. When de Yankees was comin' to Gran' Cane, my w'ite folks
+dig a big pit and put der meat and flour and all in it and cover it over
+wid dirt and put wagon loads of pine straw over it. It was 'bout five or
+six mile to Manfield and 'bout 49 or 50 mile to Shreveport. My ol'
+marster tuk all he niggers and went off somweres, dey called it Texas,
+but I didn' know where. De ol'er ones farm. Dey rais' ev'yt'ing dey
+could put in de groun', dey did. My pa was kirrige(carriage) driver for
+my ol' missus. He was boss nigger fo' de cullud men when marster wan't
+right dere. My father jis' stay dere. See, dey free our people in July.
+Dat leave de whole crop stanin' dere in de fiel'. Dey had to stay dere
+and take care of de crop. After dat dey commence makin' contraks and
+bargins. I was 22 years ol' when I marry de fus' time. Both my husban's
+dead. I had 13 chillen in all.
+
+"De fus' time I went to church, missus tuk me and another gal to min' de
+chillen. I never heared a preacher befo'. I 'member how de preacher word
+de hymn:
+
+  'Come, ye sinners, po' and needy.
+  Weak and wounded, sick and so'.'
+
+"I couldn' understan' it, but now when I look down on it I sees it now.
+I bleeve us been here goin' on fo' year' right yere in dis house."
+
+
+
+
+420078
+
+
+[Illustration: William Green, (Rev. Bill) (A)]
+
+[Illustration: William Green, (Rev. Bill) (B)]
+
+
+     WILLIAM GREEN, or "Reverend Bill", as he is call by the other
+     Negroes, was brought to Texas from Mississippi in 1862. His master
+     was Major John Montgomery. William is 87 years old. He has lived in
+     San Antonio, Texas, for 50 years.
+
+
+"I is Reverend Bill, all right, but I is 'fraid dat compliment don't
+belong to me no more, 'cause I quit preachin' in favor of de young men.
+
+"I kin tell you my 'speriences in savin'--mis'ry dat was, is peace dat
+is. I tells you dis 'spite of bein' alone in de world with no chillun.
+
+"I is raised a slave and 'mancipated in June, but I 'members de old
+plantation whar I is born. Massa John Montgomery, he owned me, and he
+went to de war and git kilt. I knowed 'bout de war, though us slaves
+wasn't sposed to know nothin' 'bout it. I was livin' in Texas then,
+'cause Massa John moved over here from Mis'sippi. In dat place niggers
+was allus wrong, no matter what, but it was better in dis place. We used
+to think we was lucky to git over here to Texas, and we used to sing a
+song 'bout it:
+
+  "'Over yonder is de wild-goose nation,
+  Whar old missus has sugar plantation--
+  Sugar grows sweet but de plantation's sour,
+  'cause de nigger jump and run every hour.
+
+  "'I has you all to know, you all to know,
+  Dare's light on de shore,
+  Says little Bill to big Bill,
+  There's a li'l nigger to write and cipher.'
+
+"I don't know what de song meant but we thought we'd git free here in
+Texas, and we'd git eddicated, and dat's de meanin' of de talk about
+writin' and cipherin'.
+
+"Well, when I is free I isn't free, 'cause de boss wants me and another
+boy to stay till we's 21 year old. But old Judge Longworth, he come down
+dere and dere was pretty near a fight, and he 'splains to us we was
+free.
+
+"'bout five year after dat I takes up preachin' and I preaches for a
+long time, and I works on a farm, half and half with de owner. I has a
+good life, but now I's too old to preach.
+
+
+
+
+420041
+
+
+[Illustration: Pauline Grice]
+
+
+     PAULINE GRICE, 81, was born a slave of John Blackshier, who owned
+     her mother, about 150 slaves, 50 slave children, and a large
+     plantation near Atlanta, Georgia. Pauline married Navasota Grice in
+     1875 and they moved to Texas in 1917. Since her husband's death in
+     1928 Pauline has depended on the charity of friends, with whom she
+     lives at 2504 Ross Ave., North Fort Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"White man, dis old cullud woman am not strong. 'Bout all my substance
+am gone now. De way you sees me layin' on dis bed am what I has to do
+mos' de time. My mem'randum not so good like 'twas.
+
+"De place I am borned am right near Atlanta, in Georgia, and on dat
+plantation of Massa John Blackshier. A big place, with 'bout 150 growed
+slaves and 'bout 50 pickininnies. I doesn't work till near de surrender,
+'cause I's too small. But us don't leave Massa John, us go right on
+workin' for him like 'fore.
+
+"Massa John am de kind massa and don't have whuppin's. He tell de
+overseer, 'If you can't make dem niggers work without de whup, den you
+not de man I wants.' Mos' de niggers 'have theyselves and when dey don't
+massa put dem in de li'l house what he call de jail, with nothin' to eat
+till deys ready to do what he say. Onct or twict he sell de nigger what
+won't do right and do de work.
+
+"Us have de cabin what am made from logs but us only sleeps dere. All us
+cookin' done in de big kitchen. Dere am three women what do dat, and
+give us de meals in de long shed with de long tables.
+
+"To de bes' of dis nigger's mem'randum, de feed am good. Plenty of
+everything and corn am de mostest us have. Dere am cornbread and
+cornmeal mush and corn hominy and corn grits and parched corn for drink,
+'stead of tea or coffee. Us have milk and 'lasses and brown sugar, and
+some meat. Dat all raise on de place. Stuff for to eat and wear, dat am
+made by us cullud folks and dat place am what dey calls se'f-s'portin'.
+De shoemaker make all de shoes and fix de leather, too.
+
+"After breakfas' in de mornin' de niggers am gwine here, dere and
+everywhere, jus' like de big factory. Every one to he job, some
+a-whistlin', some a-singin'. Dey sings diff'rent songs and dis am one
+when deys gwine to work:
+
+  "'Old cotton, old corn, see you every morn,
+  Old cotton, old corn, see you since I's born.
+  Old cotton, old corn, hoe you till dawn,
+  Old cotton, old corn, what for you born?'
+
+"Yes, suh, everybody happy on massa's place till war begin. He have two
+sons and Willie am 'bout 18 and Dave am 'bout 17. Dey jines de army and
+after 'bout a year, massa jine too, and, course, dat make de missy awful
+sad. She have to 'pend on de overseer and it warn't like massa keep
+things runnin'.
+
+"In de old days, if de niggers wants de party, massa am de big toad in
+de puddle. And Christmas, it am de day for de big time. A tree am fix,
+and some present for everyone. De white preacher talk 'bout Christ. Us
+have singin' and 'joyment all day. Den at night, de big fire builded and
+all us sot 'round it. Dere am 'bout hundred hawg bladders save from hawg
+killin'. So, on Christmas night, de chillen takes dem and puts dem on de
+stick. Fust dey is all blowed full of air and tied tight and dry. Den
+de chillen holds de bladder in de fire and purty soon, 'B A N G,'
+dey goes. Dat am de fireworks.
+
+"Dat all changed after massa go to war. Fust de 'federate sojers come
+and takes some mules and hosses, den some more come for de corn. After
+while, de Yankee sojers comes and takes some more. When dey gits
+through, dey ain't much more tookin' to be done. De year 'fore
+surrender, us am short of rations and sometime us hongry. Us sees no
+battlin' but de cannon bang all day. Once, dey bang two whole days
+'thout hardly stoppin'. Dat am when missy go tech in de head, 'cause
+massa and de boys in dat battle. She jus' walk 'round de yard and twist
+de hands and say, 'Dey sho' git kilt. Dey sho' dead.' Den when extra
+loud noise come from de cannon, she scream. Den word come Willie am
+kilt. She gits over it, but she am de diff'rent woman. For her, it am
+trouble, trouble and more trouble.
+
+"She can't sell de cotton. Dey done took all de rations and us couldn't
+eat de cotton. One day she tell us, 'De war am on us. De sojers done
+took de rations. I can't sell de cotton, 'cause of de blockade.' I don't
+know what am dat blockade, but she say it. 'Now,' she say, 'All you
+cullud folks born and raise here and us allus been good to you. I can't
+holp it 'cause rations am short and I'll do all I can for you. Will yous
+be patient with me?' All us stay dere and holp missy all us could.
+
+"Den massa come home and say, 'Yous gwine be free. Far as I cares, you
+is free now, and can stay here and tough it through or go where you
+wants. I thanks yous for all de way yous done while I's gone, and I'll
+holp you all I can.' Us all stay and it sho' am tough times. Us have
+most nothin' to eat and den de Ku Klux come 'round dere. Massa say not
+mix with dat crowd what lose de head, jus' stay to home and work. Some
+dem niggers on other plantations ain't keep de head and dey gits whupped
+and some gits kilt, but us does what massa say and has no trouble with
+dem Klux.
+
+"It 'bout two year after freedom mammy gits marry and us goes and works
+on shares. I stays with dem till 1875 and den marries Navasota Robert
+Grice and us live by farmin' till he die, nine year since. 'Bout 20 year
+since us come here from Georgia and works de truck farm. I has two
+chillen but dey dead. De way I feels now, 'twon't be long 'fore I goes,
+too. My friends is good to me and lets me stay with dem.
+
+
+
+
+420107
+
+
+[Illustration: Mandy Hadnot]
+
+
+     MANDY HADNOT, small and forlorn looking, as she lies in a huge,
+     old-fashioned wooden bed, appears very black in contrast to the
+     clean white sheets and a thick mop of snowy wool on her head. She
+     does not know her age, but from her appearance and the details she
+     remembers of her years as slave in the Slade home, near Cold
+     Springs, Texas, she must be very old. She lives in Woodville,
+     Texas, with her husband, Josh, to whom she has been married 13
+     years.
+
+
+"I's too small to 'member my father, 'cause he die when I jus' a baby.
+Dey was my mudder and me and de ole mistus and marster on de plantation.
+It were mo' jus' a farm, but dey raise us all we need to eat and feed de
+cows and hosses.
+
+"De earlies' 'membrance I hab is when de ole marster drive into de town
+for supplies every two weeks. Us place was right near Col' Springs. He
+was a good man. He treat dis lil' darky jus' like he own chile, 'cause
+he never hab any chillen of his own. I know 'bout de time he comin' home
+when he go to town and I wait down by de big gate. Purty soon I see de
+big ox comin' and see de smoke from de road dust flyin'. Den I know he
+almos' home and I holler and wave my han' and he holler and wave he han'
+right back. He allus brung me somethin', jus' like I he own little gal.
+Sometime he brung me a whistle or some candy or doll or somethin'.
+
+"One Easter he brung me de purties' lil' hat I ever did see. My ole
+mistus took me to Sunday school with her and I spruce up in dat hat.
+
+"Every Christmas 'fore ole marster die he fix me up a tree out de woods.
+Dey put popco'n on it to trim it and dey give me sometime a purty dress
+or shoes and plenty candy and maybe a big, red apple. Dey hab a big san'
+pile for me to play in, but I never play with any other chillen. My
+mammy, Emily Budle, she cook and clean up mistus log house cabin. After
+de ole marster die dey both work in de fiel' and raise plenty vegetables
+to can and eat. My task was to shell peas and watch and stir de big
+cookin' pots on de fireplace.
+
+"My mistus hav lots of company. When she come in and say, 'Mandy, shine
+up de knife and fork and put de polish on de pianny, I allus happy,
+'cause I lub to see folks come. Us hab chicken and all kinds of good
+things. De preacher, he was big, jolly man, he come to de house 'bout
+one Sunday in every month. Sometime dey brung lil' white chillen to
+dinner. Den us play
+
+  'Rabbit, rabbit.
+  Jump fru' de crack.'
+
+and
+
+  'Kitty, kitty,
+  In de corner,
+  Meow, meow,
+  Run, kitty, run.'
+
+"De ole marster pick me out a lil', gentle hoss named Julie and dat was
+my very own hoss. It was jus' a common lil' hoss. I uster sneak sugar
+out de barrel to feed Julie. Dey had a big smokehouse on de farm where
+dey kep' all kin's of good things like sugar and sich. Dey had fruits of
+all kin's put up.
+
+"Every mornin' de ole mistus took out de big Bible and hab prayer
+meetin' for jus' us three. Us never learn read much, tho' she try teach
+me some. When I's 'bout nine year ole she buy me a purty white dress
+and took me to jine de church. She was a little, white-hair' woman, what
+never los' her temper 'bout nothin'. She use' to let me bump on her
+pianny and didn' say nothin'. She couldn' play de pianny but she kinder
+hope maybe I could, but I never did learn how.
+
+"When freedom come my mudder and me pay no 'tention to it. Us stay right
+on de place. Purty soon my mudder die and I jus' took up her shoes. One
+day I's makin' a bonfire in de yard and ketch my dress on fire. De whol
+side of my lef' leg mos' bu'n off. Mistus was so lil' she couldn' lif'
+me but she fin'ly git me to bed. Dere I stay for long, long time, and
+she wait on me han' and feet. She make linseed poultice and kep' de bu'n
+grease good. Mos' time she leave all de wo'k stan' in de middle of de
+floor and read de Bible and pray for me to git heal up and not suffer.
+She cry right 'long with me when I cry, 'cause I hurt so.
+
+"When I's 16 year ole I want to hab courtin'. Mistus 'low me to hab de
+boy come right to de big house to see me. He come two mile every Sunday
+and us go to Lugene Baptist church. Den she hav nice Sunday dinner for
+both us. She let me go to ice cream supper, too. Dey didn' hab no
+freezer den, jus' a big pan in some ice. De boys and girls took tu'ns
+stirrin' de cream. It never git real ha'd but stay kinder slushy. Dey
+serve cake. Us hav pie supper, too. Whoever git de girl's pie eat it
+with her.
+
+"My ole mistus she pay me money right 'long after freedom but I too
+close to spen' any. Den when I 'cide to marry Bob Thomas, she he'p me
+fix a hope ches'. I buys goods for sheets and table kivers and one nice
+Sunday set dishes.
+
+"Us marry right in de parlor of de mistus house. De white man preacher
+marry us and mistus she give me 'way. Ole mistus he'p me make my weddin'
+dress outta white lawn. I hab purty long, black hair and a veil with a
+ribbon 'round de fron'. De weddin' feas' was strawberry ice cream and
+yaller cake. Ole mistus giv me my bedstead, one of her purtiest ones,
+and de set dishes and glasses us eat de weddin' dinner outta. My husban'
+gib me de trabblin' dress, but I never use dat dress for three weeks,
+though, 'cause ole mistus cry so when I hafter leave dat I stay for
+three weeks after I marry.
+
+"She all 'lone in de big house and I think it break her heart. I ain'
+been gone to de sawmill town very long when she sen' for me. I go to see
+her and took a peach pie, 'cause I lub her and I know dat's what she
+like better'n anything. She was sick and she say, 'Mandy, dis de las'
+time us gwineter see each other, 'cause I ain' gwineter git well. You be
+a good girl and try to git through de worl' dat way.' Den she make me
+say de Lord Prayer for her jus' like she allus make me say it for a
+night prayer when I lil' gal. I never see her no mo'.
+
+"Me and Bob Thomas and dis husban', Josh, what I marry thirteen year
+ago, hab 'bout 10 chillen all togedder. Us been lib here many a year. I
+don' care so much 'bout leavin' dis yearthly home, 'cause I knows I
+gwineter see de ole mistus up dere and I tell her I allus 'member what
+she tell me and try lib dat way all time.
+
+
+
+
+420237
+
+
+[Illustration: William Hamilton]
+
+
+     WILLIAM HAMILTON belonged to a slave trader, who left him on the
+     Buford plantation, near Village Creek, Texas. The trader did not
+     return, so the Buford family raised the child with their slaves.
+     William now lives at 910 E. Weatherford St., Ft. Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"Who I is, how old I is and where I is born, I don't know. But Massa
+Buford told me how durin' de war a slave trader name William Hamilton,
+come to Village Creek, where Massa Buford live. Dat trader was on his
+way south with my folks and a lot of other slaves, takin' 'em
+somewheres, to sell. He camped by Massa Buford's plantation and asks
+him, 'Can I leave dis li'l nigger here till I comes back?' Massa Buford
+say, 'Yes,' and de trader say he'll be back in 'bout three weeks, soon
+as he sells all the slaves. He mus' still be sellin' 'em, 'cause he
+never comes back so far and there I am and my folks am took on, and I is
+too li'l to 'member 'em, so I never knows my pappy and mammy. Massa
+Buford says de trader comes from Missouri, but if I is born dere I don't
+know.
+
+"De only thing I 'members 'bout all dat, am dere am lots of cryin' when
+dey tooks me 'way from my mammy. Dat something I never forgits.
+
+"I only 'members after de war, and most de cullud folks stays with Massa
+Buford after surrender and works de land on shares. Dey have good times
+on dat place, and don't want to leave. Day has dances and fun till de Ku
+Klux org'nizes and den it am lots of trouble. De Klux comes to de dance
+and picks out a nigger and whups him, jus' to keep de niggers scart, and
+it git so bad dey don't have no more dances or parties.
+
+"I 'members seein' Faith Baldwin and Jeb Johnson and Dan Hester gittin'
+whupped by de Klux. Dey wasn't so bad after women. It am allus after
+dark when dey comes to de house and catches de man and whups him for
+nothin'. Dey has de power, and it am done for to show dey has de power.
+It gits so bad round dere, dat de menfolks allus eats supper befo' dark
+and takes a blanket and goes to de woods for to sleep. Alex Buford don't
+sleep in de house for one whole summer.
+
+"No one knowed when de Klux comin'. All a-sudden up dey gallops on
+hosses, all covered with hoods, and bust right into de house. Jus'
+latches 'stead of locks was used dem days. Dey comes sev'ral times to
+Alex' house but never cotches him. I'd hear dem comin' when dey hit de
+lane and I'd holler, 'De Klux am comin'.' It was my job, after dark,
+listenin' for dem Klux, den I gits under de bed.
+
+"Why dey comes so many times round dere, am 'cause de second time dey
+comes, Jane Bensom am dere. Jane am lots of woman, wide as de door and
+tall, and weighs 'bout three hunder pounds. I calls, 'Here comes de
+Klux,' and makes for under de bed. There am embers in de fireplace and
+she fills a pail with dem and when de Klux busts in de door she lets dem
+have de embers in de face, and den out de back door she goes. Two of dem
+am burnt purty bad. De nex' night back dey comes and asks where Jane am.
+She 'longs to Massa John Ditto and am so big everybody knows her, but de
+niggers won't tell on her. She leaves de country fin'ly, but dey comes
+lookin' for her every night for two months.
+
+"Right over on Massa Ditto's place, am a killin' of a baby by dem Klux.
+De baby am in de mammy's arms and a bunch of Klux ridin' by takes a
+shot at de mammy, and it hits de baby and kills it.
+
+"Right after de baby killin', sojers with blue coats comes dere and
+camps front of Massa Buford's place and pertects de cullud folks. I goes
+over to dey camp every day and dey gives me lots of good eats.
+
+"De cullud folks has lots of trouble after de war, 'cause dey am ir'rant
+niggers and gits foolishment in de head. They gits de idea de white
+folks should give dem land and mules and sich. Over in de valley, Massa
+Moses owns lots of land and fifty nigger families, and he gives each
+family a deed to 'bout fifty acres. Some dem cullud folks grandchillen
+still on dat land, too, de Parkers and Farrows and Nelsons and some
+others. Den all de other niggers thinks dey should git land, too, but
+dey don't, and it make dem git foolishment and git in trouble.
+
+"In 1897 I marries Effie Coleman and has no chillens, so I is alone in
+de world now. I can't do much and lives on de $10.00 de month pension.
+De white folks lets me live in dis shack for mowin' de lawn, but I
+worries 'bout when I can't do no more work. It am de awful way to spend
+you last days.
+
+
+
+
+420163
+
+
+     PIERCE HARPER, 86, was born on the Subbs plantation near Snow Hill,
+     North Carolina. When eight years old he was sold for $1,150
+     [Handwritten Note: '?'] to the Harper family, who lived in Snow
+     Hill. After the Civil War, Pierce farmed a small place near Snow
+     Hill and saw many raids of the Klu Klux Klan. He came to Galveston,
+     Texas, in 1877. Pierce attended a Negro school after he was grown,
+     learned to read and write, and is interested in the betterment of
+     his race.
+
+
+"When you ask me is I Pierce Harper, you kind of 'sprised me. I reckoned
+everybody know old Pierce Harper. Sister Johnson say to me outside of
+services last Sunday night, 'Brother Harper, you is de beatines' man I
+ever seen. You know everybody and everybody know you.' And I said,
+'Sister Johnson, dat's 'cause I keep faith with de Lawd. I love de Lawd
+and my neighbors and de Lawd and my neighbors love me.' Dat's what my
+old mother told me 'way back in slavery, before I was ever sold. But
+here I is talking 'bout myself when you want to hear me talk 'bout
+slavery. Let's see, now.
+
+"I was born way back in 1851 in North Carolina, on Mr. Subbs'
+plantation, clost to Snow Hill, which was the county seat. My daddy was
+a field hand and my mother worked in the fields, too, right 'longside my
+daddy, so she could keep him lined up. The master said that Calisy, that
+my mother, was the best fieldhand he had, and Calvin, that my daddy, was
+the laziest. My mother used to say he was chilesome.
+
+"Then when I was eight years old they sold me. The market place was in
+Snow Hill on the public square near the jailhouse. It was jus' a little
+stand built out in the open with no top on it, that the slaves stood on
+to get sold while the white folks auctioned 'em off. I was too little to
+get on the stand, so they had to hold me up and Mr. Harper bought me for
+$1,100. [Handwritten Note: '?'] That was cheap for a boy.
+
+"He lived in a brick house in town and had two-three slaves 'sides me. I
+run errands and kept the yard clean, things a little boy could do. They
+didn't have no school for slaves and I never learned to read and write
+till after freedom. After I was sold, they let me go visit my mother
+once a year, on Sunday morning, and took me back at night.
+
+"The masters couldn't whip the slaves there. The law said in black and
+white no master couldn't whip no slave, no matter what he done. When a
+slave got bad they took him to the county seat and had him whipped. One
+day I seen my old daddy get whipped by the county and state 'cause he
+wouldn't work. They had a post in the public square what they tied 'em
+to and a man what worked for the county whipped 'em.
+
+"After he was whipped my daddy run away to the north. Daddy come by when
+I was cleanin' the yard and said, 'Pierce, go 'round side the house,
+where nobody can't see us.' I went and he told me goodbye, 'cause he was
+goin' to run away in a few days. He had to stay in the woods and travel
+at night and eat what he could find, berries and roots and things. They
+never caught him and after he crossed the Mason-Dixon line he was safe.
+
+"There used to be a man who raised bloodhounds to hunt slaves with. I
+seen the dogs on the trail a whole day and still not catch 'em.
+Sometimes the slave made friends with the dogs and they wouldn't let on
+if they found him. Three dogs followed one slave the whole way up north
+and he sold them up there.
+
+"I heered 'em talk about some slaves what run barefooted in cold weather
+and you could trail 'em by blood in the snow and ice where they hurt
+their feet.
+
+"Most of the time the master gave us castor oil when we were sick. Some
+old folks went in the woods for herbs and made medicine. They made tea
+out of 'lion's tongue' for the stomach and snake root is good for pains
+in the stomach, too. Horse mint breaks the fever. They had a vermifuge
+weed.
+
+"I seed a lot of Southern soldiers and they'd go to the big house for
+something to eat. Late in '63 they had a fight at a place called
+Kingston, only 12 miles from our place, takin' how the jacks go. We
+could hear the guns go off when they was fightin'. The Yankees beat and
+settled down there and the cullud folks flocked down on them and when
+they got to the Yankee lines they was safe. They went in droves of 25 or
+50 to the Yankees and they put 'em to work fightin' for freedom. They
+fit till the war was over and a lot of 'em got kilt. My mother and
+sister run away to the Yankees and they paid 'em big money to wash for
+'em.
+
+"When peace come they read the 'mancipation law to the cullud people and
+they stayed up half the night at Mr. Harper's, singing and shouting.
+They spent that night singin' and shoutin'. They wasn't slaves no more.
+The master had to give 'em a half or third of what he made. Our master
+parceled out some land to 'em and told 'em to work it their selves and
+some done real well. They got hosses that the soldiers had turned loose
+to die, and fed them and took good care of 'em and they got good stock
+that way. Cotton was twenty and thirty cents a pound then.
+
+"After us cullud folks was 'sidered free and turned loose, the Klu Klux
+broke out. Some cullud people started to farmin', like I told you, and
+gathered the old stock. If they got so they made good money, and had a
+good farm, the Klu Klux would come and murder 'em. The gov'ment builded
+school houses and the Klu Klux went to work and burned 'em down. They'd
+go to the jails and take the cullud men out and knock their brains out
+and break their necks and throw 'em in the river.
+
+"There was a cullud man they taken, his name was Jim Freeman. They taken
+him and destroyed his stuff and him, 'cause he was making some money.
+Hung him on a tree in his front yard, right in front of his cabin.
+
+"There was some cullud young men went to the schools they'd opened by
+the gov'ment. Some white woman said someone had stole something of hers
+so they put them young men in jail. The Klu Klux went to the jail and
+took 'em out and killed 'em. That happened the second year after the
+War.
+
+"After the Klu Kluxes got so strong the cullud men got together and made
+the complaint before the law. The Gov'nor told the law to give 'em the
+old guns in the com'sary, what the Southern soldiers had used, so they
+issued the cullud men old muskets and said protect themselves. They got
+together and organized the militia and had leaders like reg'lar
+soldiers. They didn't meet 'cept when they heered the Klu Kluxes was
+coming to get some cullud folks. Then they was ready for 'em. They'd
+hide in the cabins and then's when they found out who a lot of them Klu
+Kluxes was, 'cause a lot of 'em was kilt. They wore long sheets and
+covered the hosses with sheets so you couldn't rec'nize 'em. Men you
+thought was your friend was Klu Kluxes and you'd deal with 'em in stores
+in the daytime and at night they'd come out to your house and kill you.
+I never took part in none of the fights, but I heered the others talk
+'bout them, but not where them Klu Klux could hear 'em.
+
+"One time they had 12 men in jail, 'cused of robbin' white folks. All
+was white in jail but one, and he was cullud. The Klu Kluxes went to the
+jailor's house and got the jail key and got them men out and carried 'em
+to the River Bridge, in the middle. Then they knocked their brains out
+and threw 'em in the river.
+
+"We was 'fraid of them Klu Kluxes and come to town, to Snow Hill. We
+rented a little house and my mother took in washing and ironing. I went
+to school and learned to read and write, then worked on farms, and
+fin'ly went to Columbia, in South Carolina, and worked in the turpentine
+country. I stayed there a while and got married.
+
+"I come to Texas in 1877 and Galveston was a little pen then, a little
+mess. I worked for some white people and then went to Houston and it
+wasn't nothing but a mudhole. So I messed 'round in South Carolina again
+a while and then come back to Galveston.
+
+"The Lawd called me then and I answered and I answered and was preacher
+here at the Union Baptist Church, on 11th and K, 'bout 25 years.
+
+"I knowed Wright Cuney well and he held the biggest place a cullud man
+ever helt in Galveston. He was congressman and the white people looked
+up to him just like he was white.
+
+"Durin' the Spanish-American War I went to Washington, D.C., to see my
+sister and got in the soldier business. The gov'ment give me $30.00 a
+month for drivin' a four-mule wagon for the army. I druv all through
+Pennsylvania and Virginia and South Carolina for the gov'ment. I was
+a----what do they call a laborer in the army?
+
+"When war was over I come back here and now I'm too old to work and the
+state gives me a pension and me and my granddaughter live on that. The
+young folks is makin' their mark now. One thing about 'em, they get
+educated, but there's not much for them to do when they get finished
+with school but walk the streets now. I been always trying to help my
+people to rise 'bove their station and they are rising all the time, and
+some day they'll be free."
+
+
+
+
+420298
+
+
+     MOLLY HARRELL was born a slave on the Swanson plantation, near
+     Palestine, Texas. She was a housegirl, but must have been too small
+     to do much work. She does not know her age, but thinks she was
+     about seven when she was freed. Molly lives at 3218 Ave H.,
+     Galveston, Texas.
+
+
+"Don't you tell nobody dat I use to be a slave. I 'most forgot it myself
+till you got round me jes' den. Course, I ain't blamin' you for it, but
+what you done say 'bout all de plantations havin' schools was wrong, so
+I jes' had to tell you I been a slave myself. It jes' slip out.
+
+"Like I jes' say, I knows what I's talkin' 'bout, 'cause I use to be a
+slave myself and I don't know how to read and write. Dat why I say I
+can't see so good. It don't do to let folks know dey's smarter'n you,
+'cause den dey got you right where dey wants you. Now, Will, dat de man
+I's marry to, am younger'n me but he don't know it. When you git marry,
+you don't tell de man how old you is. He wouldn't have you if you did.
+'Course, Will ain't so young heself, but he's born after de war and I's
+born durin' slavery, so dat make me older.
+
+"Mr. Swanson use to own de big plantation in Palestine. Everybody in dat
+part de country knowed him. He use to live in a plain, wood house on de
+Palestine road. My mother use to cook and wait on tables. John was my
+father.
+
+"Dey use to have de little whip dey use on de women. Course de field
+hands got it worse, but den, dey was men. Mr. Swanson was good and he
+was mean. He was nice one day and mean as Hades de next. You never
+knowed what he gwine to do. But he never punish nobody 'cept dey done
+somethin'. My father was a field hand, and Mr. Swanson work de fire out
+dem. Work, work--dat all dey know from time dey git up in de mornin'
+till dey went to bed at night. But he wasn't hard on dem like some
+masters was. If dey sick, dey didn't habe to work and he give dem de
+med'cine hisself. If he cotch dem tryin' play off sick, den he lay into
+dem, or if he cotch dem loafin'. Course, I don't blame him for dat,
+'cause dere ain't anythin' lazier dan a lazy nigger. Will am 'bout de
+laziest one in de bunch. You ain't never find a lazier nigger dan Will.
+
+"I was purty little den, but I done my share. I holp my mother dust and
+clean up de house and peel 'tatoes. Dere some old men dat too old to
+work so dey sot in de sun all day and holp with de light work. Dey carry
+grub and water to de field hands.
+
+"Somebody run 'way all de time and hide in de woods till dere gut pinch
+dem and den dey have to come back and git somethin' to eat. Course, dey
+got beat, but dat didn't worry dem none, and it not long till dey gone
+'gain.
+
+"My mother sold into slavery in Georgia, or round dere. She tell me
+funny things 'bout how dey use to do up dere. A old white man think so
+much of he old nigger when he die he free dat nigger in he will, and
+lef' him a little money. He open de blacksmith shop and buy some slaves.
+Mother allus say dose free niggers make de hardes' masters. One in
+Palestine marry a nigger slave and buy her from her master. Den he tell
+everybody he own a slave.
+
+"Everybody talk 'bout freedom and hope to git free 'fore dey die. I
+'member de first time de Yankees pass by, my mother lift me up on de
+fence. Dey use to pass by with bags on de mules and fill dem with stuff
+from de houses. Dey go in de barn and holp deyself. Dey go in de stables
+and turn out de white folks' hosses and run off what dey don't take for
+deyself.
+
+"Den one night I 'member jes' as well, me and my mother was settin' in
+de cabin gettin' ready to go to bed, when us hear somebody call my
+mother. We listen and de overseer whisper under de door and told my
+mother dat she free but not to tell nobody. I don't know why he done it.
+He allus like my mother, so I guess he do it for her. The master reads
+us de paper right after dat and say us free.
+
+"Me and my mother lef' right off and go to Palestine. Most everybody
+else go with us. We all walk down de road singin' and shoutin' to beat
+de band. My father come nex' day and jine us. My sister born dere. Den
+us go to Houston and Louisiana for a spell and I hires out to cook. I
+works till us come to Galveston 'bout ten year ago.
+
+
+
+
+420316
+
+
+Dibble, Fred, P.W., Beehler, Rheba, P.W.,
+Beaumont, Jefferson, Dist. #3.
+
+     ANN HAWTHORNE, Beaumont, Tex., was clad in a white dress which was
+     protected by a faded blue checked apron. On her feet she wore men's
+     bedroom slippers much too large for her, and to prevent their
+     falling off, were tied around the ankle by rag strings. She wore
+     silk hose with the heels completely worn out of them. Her figure is
+     generous in proportions, and her hair snow white, fixed in little
+     pig tails and wrapped in black string. Ann related her story in a
+     deep voice and a jovial manner. Although born and raised in Jasper
+     county, she speaks boastfully about having been to Houston.
+
+
+"If you's lookin' for Ann Hawthorne, dis is me. I was bo'n in slavery,
+and I was a right sizeable gal when freedom come. I was 'bout 10 or 12
+year' ol' when freedom riz up."
+
+"I was bo'n up here in Jasper. Ol' marster Woodruff Norsworthy and Miss
+Ca'lina, dey was my ol' marster and mistus. Miss Ca'lina she name' me."
+
+"My pa was Len Norsworthy. My ma was name Ca'line after ol' mistus. Dat
+how come I 'member ol' mistus name so good. I got fo' brudders livin',
+but nary a sister. My brudders is Newton and Silas and Willie and Frank.
+I say dey's livin'. I mean dat de las' time I heard of 'em dey was
+livin'."
+
+"Yas, I 'member de house I was raise in. It was jis' a one-room log
+house. Dey was a ol' Geo'gia hoss bed in it. It was up pretty high and
+us chillun had to git on a box to git in dat bed. De mattress was mek
+outer straw. Sometime dey mek 'em in co'n sacks and sometime dey put 'em
+in a tick what dey weave on de loom. I had a aunt what was de weaver.
+She weave all de time for ol' marster. She uster weave all us clo's."
+
+"My ma she was jis' a fiel' han' but my gramma and my aunt dey hab dem
+for wuk 'roun' de house. I didn' do nuthin' but chu'n (churn) and clean
+de yard, and sweep 'roun' and go to de spring and tote de water. I l'arn
+how to hoe, too."
+
+"Dat was a big plantation. Fur as I kin 'member I t'ink dey was 'bout 25
+or 30 slaves on de place. You see I done git ol' and childish and I
+can't 'member like what I uster could. I 'member though, dat my pa uster
+drive a team for ol' marster. Sometime he fiel' han' on de plantation,
+too."
+
+"Ol' marster he was good to his slaves. I heerd of slaves bein' whip'
+but I ain't never see any git whip. Dey was a overseer on de place and
+iffen dey was any whippin' to be did, he done it."
+
+"Me? I never did git no lickin's when I was a li'l slave. No mam. I
+allus did obey jis' like I was teached to do and dey didn' hafter whip
+me. I 'members dat."
+
+"We done our playin' 'roun' dat big house, but dat front gate, we
+dassen' go outside dat. We uster jump de rope and play ring plays and
+sich. You know how dey yoke dey han's togedder? Dat de way us uster do
+and go 'roun' and 'roun' singin' our li'l jumped up songs. Den us jis'
+play 'roun' lots of times anyt'ing what happen to come up in our min's."
+
+"Dey feed us good back in slavery. Give us plenty of meat and bread and
+greens and t'ings. Ye, dey feed us good and us had plenty. Dey give us
+plenty of co'nbread. Dat's de reason I's a co'nbread eater now. I ain't
+no flour-bread eater. I lubs my co'nbread. Us all eat outer one big pan.
+Dey give each li'l nigger a big iron spoon and us sho' go to it. Dey
+give us milk in a sep'rate vessel, and dey give eb'ryone a slice of meat
+in our greens. And dey never dassent tek de other feller's piece of
+meat. Eb'ryt'ing better go 'long smoove wid us chillun. We better eat
+and shut our mouf. We dassent raise no squall."
+
+"I tell dese chillun here dey ain't know nuffin'. Dey got dey glass. We
+had our li'l go'ds (gourds) pretty and clean and white. I wish I had
+one of dem ol' time go'ds now to drink my milk outer."
+
+"In good wedder dey feed us under a big tree out in de yard. And us
+better leave eb'ryt'ing clean and no litter 'roun'. In de winter time
+dey fed us in de kitchen."
+
+"Us gals wo' plain, long waisted dress. Dey was cut straight and wid
+long waist and dey button down de back."
+
+"Dey was a cullud man what mek shoes for de slaves to wear in de winter
+time. He mek 'em outer rough red russet ledder. Dat ledder was hard and
+lots of times it mek blister on us feet. I uster be glad when summer
+time come so's I could go barefoot."
+
+"Dey had cabins for de slaves to live in. Dere was jis' one room and one
+family to de cabin. Some of 'em was bigger dan others and dey put a big
+family in a big cabin and a li'l family in a li'l cabin."
+
+"I never see no slaves bought and sol'. I heerd my gramma and ma say dey
+ol' marster wouldn' sell none of his slaves."
+
+"I heerd 'bout dem broom-stick marriages, but I ain't never seed none.
+Dat was dey law in dem days."
+
+"Dey didn' know nuffin' 'bout preachin' and Sunday School in dem times.
+De fus' preachin' I heerd was atter dat. I hear a white preacher
+preach. He uster preach to de white folks in de mornin' and de cullud
+folks in de afternoons. But de slaves some of 'em uster had family
+prayer meetings to deyselfs."
+
+"De ol' marster he didn' work he han's on Sunday and he give 'em half de
+day off on Sadday, too. But he never give 'em a patch to work for
+deyself. Dat half a day off on Sadday was for de slaves to wash and
+clean up deyselfs."
+
+"I never git marry 'till way atter freedom come. Dat was up in Jasper
+county where I's bred and bo'n. I marry Hyman Hawthorne. Near as you kin
+guess, dat was 'bout 50 year' ago. Den he die and lef' me wid eight
+chillun. My baby gal she ain't never see no daddy."
+
+"Atter he dead I wash and iron and cook out and raise my chillun. I was
+raise up in de fiel' all my life. When I git disable' to wuk in de time
+of de 'pressure (depression) I git on my walkin' stick. I wag up town
+and I didn' fail to ax de white folks 'cause I wo' myself out wukkin'
+for 'em. Dey load up my sack and sometime dey bring me stuff in a car
+right dere to dat gate. But I's had two strokes and I ain't able to go
+to town no mo'."
+
+"I tell you I never hear nuthin' 'bout chu'ch 'till way atter freedom.
+Sometime den us go to chu'ch. Dey was one Mef'dis' Chu'ch and one
+Baptis' Chu'ch in Jasper. Dere moughta been a Cabilic (Catholic) Chu'ch
+dere too, but I dunno 'bout dat."
+
+"I don' 'member seein' no sojers. I t'ink some of ol' marster's boys
+went to de war but de ol' man didn' go. I dunno 'bout wedder dey come
+back or not 'cep'n' I 'member dat Crab Norsworthy he come back."
+
+"When any of de slaves git sick ol' mistus and my gramma dey doctor 'em.
+De ol' mistus she a pretty good doctor. When us chillun git sick dey git
+yarbs or dey give us castor oil and turpentine. Iffen it git to be a
+ser'ous ailment dey sen' for de reg'lar doctor. Dey uster hang
+asafoetida 'roun' us neck in a li'l bag to keep us from ketch' de
+whoopin' cough and de measles."
+
+"Dey was a gin and cotton press on de place. Ol' marster gin' and bale'
+he own cotton. Dat ol' press had dem long arms a-stickin' down what dey
+hitch hosses to and mek 'em go 'roun' and 'roun' and press de bale."
+
+"Dey raise dey own t'bacco on de place. I didn' use snuff nor chew 'till
+after I growed up and marry. Back in slavery you couldn' let 'em ketch
+you wid a chew of t'bacco or snuff in your mouf. Iffen you did dey
+wouldn' let you forgit it."
+
+"I uster like to go and play 'roun' de calfs, jis' go up and pet 'em and
+rub 'em. But we dassent git on 'em to ride 'em."
+
+"Marster uster sit 'roun' and watch us chillun play. He enjoy dat. He
+call me his Annie 'cause I name' after my mistus. Sometime he hab a
+wagon load of watermilion haul' up from de fiel' and cut 'em. Eb'ry
+chile hab a side of watermilion. And us hab all de sugar cane and sweet
+'taters us want."
+
+"Dey had a big smokehouse. Dey hab big hog killin' time, and dey dry and
+salt de meat in a big long trough. Dey git oak and ash and hick'ry wood
+and mek a fire under it and smoke it. My gramma toted de key to dat
+smokehouse and ol' mistus she'd tell her what to go and git for de white
+folks and de cullud folks."
+
+"When Crismus come 'roun' dey give us big eatin'. Us hab chicken and
+turkey and cake. I don' 'member dat dey give us no presents."
+
+"My gramma and my ma and ol' man Norsworthy dey come from Alabama. I
+never hear of him breakin' up a family. But when dey was livin' in
+Geo'gy, my ma marry a man name' Hawthorne in Geo'gy. He wouldn' sell him
+to Marse Norsworthy when he come to Texas. Atter freedom marster go to
+Geo'gy to git him and bring him to Texas, but he done raisin' up anudder
+family dere and won't come. Li'l befo' she die her husban' come. When he
+'bout wo' out and ready to die, den he come. Some of de ol'es' chillun
+'member dey daddy and dey crazy for him to come and dey mek up de money
+for him. When he git here dey tek care of him 'till he die right dere at
+Olive. Ma tell 'em to write him he neenter (need not) come. She say he
+ain't no service to her. But he come and de daughter tek care of her ma
+and pa bofe."
+
+"I's got 8 gran'chillun and 5 great-gran'chillun. I 'vides (divide) my
+time 'tween my daughter here and de one in Houston."
+
+"You wants to tek my picture? Daughter, I don' want dat hat you got
+dere. Dat one of de chillun' hats. Git dat li'l bonnet. Dat becomes me
+better. I can't stan' much sun. Dey say I's got high blood pressue."
+
+
+
+
+420186
+
+
+     JAMES HAYES, 101, was born a slave to a plantation owner whose name
+     he does not now recall, in Shelby Co., two miles from Marshall,
+     Texas. Mr. John Henderson bought the place, six slaves and James
+     and his mother. James, known as Uncle Jim, seems happy, still
+     stands erect, and is very active for his age. He lives on a green
+     slope overlooking the Trinity river, in Moser Valley, a Negro
+     settlement ten miles northeast of Fort Worth.
+
+
+"Dis nigger have lived a long time, yas, suh! I's 101 years ole, 'cause
+I's bo'n Dec. 28, 1835. Dat makes me 102 come nex' December. I can'
+'member my fust marster's name, 'cause when I's 'bout two years ole, me
+and my sis, 'bout five, and our mammy was sol' to Marster John
+Henderson. I don' 'member anything 'bout my pappy, but I 'member Marster
+Henderson jus' like 'twas las' week. I's settin' hear a thinkin' of dem
+ole days when I's a li'l nigger a cuttin' up on ole marster's
+plantation. How I did play roun' with de chilluns till I's big enough
+for to wo'k. After I's 'bout 13, I jus' peddles roun' de house for 'bout
+a year, den 'twarn't long till I hoes co'n and potatoes. Dere's six
+slaves on dat place and I coul' beat dem all a-hoein'.
+
+"De marster takes good care of us and sometimes give us money, 'bout
+25c, and lets us go to town. Dat's when we was happy and celebrates.
+We'uns spent all de money on candy and sweet drinks. Marster never
+crowded us 'bout de wo'k, and never give any of us whuppin's. I's
+sev'ral times needed a whuppin', but de marster never gives dis nigger
+more'n a good scoldin'. De nearest I comes to gittin whupped, 'twas
+once when I stole a plate of biscuits offen de table. I warn't in need
+of 'em, but de devil in me caused me to do it. Marster and all de folks
+comes in and sets down, and he asks for de biscuits, and I's under de
+house and could hear 'em talk. De cook says, 'I's put de biscuits on de
+table.' Marster says, 'If you did, de houn' got 'em.' Cook says, 'If a
+houn' got 'em, 'twas a two-legged one, 'cause de plate am gone, too.'
+I's made de mistake of takin' de plate. Marster give me de wors'
+scoldin' I ever has and dat larned me a lesson.
+
+"Not long after dat, Marster sol' my mammy to his brudder who lived in
+Fort Worth. When dey took her away, I's powerful grieved. 'Bout dat time
+de War started. De marster and his boy, Marster Ben, jined de army. De
+marster was a sergeant. De women folks was proud of dere men folks, but
+dey was powerful grieved. All de time de men's away, I could tell Missy
+Elline and her mamma was worried. Dey allus sen's me for de mail, and
+when I fotches it, dey run to meet me, anxious like, to open de letter,
+and was skeert to do it. One day I fotches a letter and I could feel it
+in my bones, dere was trouble in dat letter. Sure 'nough, dere was
+trouble, heaps of it. It tells dat Marster Ben am kilt and dat dey was a
+shippin' him home. All de ole folks, cullud and white, was cryin'. Missy
+Elline, she fainted. When de body comes home, dere's a powerful big
+funeral and after dat, dere's powerful weepin's and sadness on dat
+place. De women folks don' talk much and no laughin' like 'fore. I
+'members once de missy asks me to make a 'lasses cake. I says, 'I's got
+no 'lasses.' Missy says, 'Don' say 'lasses, say molasses.' I says, 'Why
+say molasses when I's got no 'lasses.' Dat was de fus' time Missy laugh
+after de funeral.
+
+"Durin' de War, things was 'bout de same, like always, 'cept some
+vittles was scarce. But we'uns had plenty to eat and us slaves didn'
+know what de War was 'bout. I guess we was too ign'rant. De white folks
+didn' talk 'bout it 'fore us. When it's over, de Marster comes home and
+dey holds a big celebration. I's workin' in de kitchen and dey tol' me
+to cook heaps of ham, chicken, pies, cakes, sweet 'taters and lots of
+vegetables. Lots of white folks comes and dey eats and drinks wine, dey
+sings and dances. We'uns cullud folks jined in and was singin' out in de
+back, 'Massa's in de Col', Har' Groun'. Marster asks us to come in and
+sing dat for de white folks, so we'uns goes in de house and sings dat
+for de white folks and dey jines in de chorus.
+
+"Three days after de celebration, de marster calls all de slaves in de
+house and says, 'Yous is all free, free as I am.' He tol' us we'uns
+could go if we'uns wanted to. None of us knows what to do, dere warn't
+no place to go and why would we'uns wan' to go and leave good folks like
+de marster? His place was our home. So we'uns asked him if we could stay
+and he says, 'Yous kin stay as long as yous want to and I can keep
+yous.' We'uns all stayed till he died, 'bout a year after dat.
+
+"When he was a-dyin', marster calls me to his bed and says, 'My dyin'
+reques' is dat yous be taken to your mama.' He calls his son, Zeke, in
+and tells him dat I should be fotched to my mamma. And 'bout in a year,
+Marster Zeke fotches me to my mamma, in Johnson Station, south of
+Arlington. She's wo'kin' for Jack Ditto and I's pleased to see her.
+
+I's pleased to see my mammy, but after a few days I wants to go back to
+Marshall with Marster Zeke. Dat was my home, so I kep' pesterin' marster
+to fetch me back, but he slips off and leaves me. I has to stay and I's
+been here ever since.
+
+"I gits my fust job with Carter Cannon, on a farm, and stays seven
+years. Den I goes to Fort Worth and takes a job cookin' in de Gran'
+Hotel for three years. Den I goes to Dallas and cooks for private
+families, and wo'ks for Marster James Ellison for 30 years. I stops four
+years ago and comes out here to wait till de good Lawd calls me home.
+
+"Bout gittin' married, after I quits de Gran' Hotel I marries and we'uns
+has two chillen. My wife died three years later.
+
+"You knows, I believes I's mo' contented as a slave. I's treated kind
+all de time and had no frettin' 'bout how I gwine git on. Since I's been
+free, I sometimes have heaps of frettin'. Course, I don' want to go back
+into slavery, but I's paid for my freedom.
+
+"I's never been sick abed, but I's had mo' misery dis las' year dan all
+my life. It's my heart. If I live till December, I'll be 102 years old,
+and dis ole heart have been pumpin' and pumpin' all dem years and have
+missed nary a beat till dis las' year. I knows 'twon't be long till de
+good Lawd calls dis ole nigger to cross de Ribber Jordan and I's ready
+for de Lawd when he calls.
+
+
+
+
+420082
+
+
+[Illustration: Felix Haywood (A)]
+
+[Illustration: Felix Haywood (B)]
+
+
+     FELIX HAYWOOD is a temperamental and whimsical old Negro of San
+     Antonio, Texas, who still sees the sunny side of his 92 years, in
+     spite of his total blindness. He was born and bred a slave in St.
+     Hedwig, Bexar Co., Texas, the son of slave parents bought in
+     Mississippi by his master, William Gudlow. Before and during the
+     Civil War he was a sheep herder and cowpuncher. His autobiography is
+     a colorful contribution, showing the philosophical attitude of the
+     slaves, as well as shedding some light upon the lives of slave
+     owners whose support of the Confederacy was not accompanied by
+     violent hatred of the Union.
+
+
+"Yes, sir, I'm Felix Haywood, and I can answer all those things that you
+want to know. But, first, let me ask you this: Is you all a white man,
+or is you a black man?"
+
+"I'm black, blacker than you are," said the caller.
+
+The eyes of the old blind Negro,--eyes like two murkey brown
+marbles--actually twinkled. Then he laughed:
+
+"No, you ain't. I knowed you was white man when you comes up the path
+and speaks. I jus' always asks that question for fun. It makes white men
+a little insulted when you dont know they is white, and it makes niggers
+all conceited up when you think maybe they is white."
+
+And there was the key note to the old Negro's character and temperament.
+He was making a sort of privileged game with a sportive twist out of his
+handicap of blindness.
+
+As the interviewer scribbled down a note, the door to the little shanty
+on Arabella Alley opened and a backless chair was carried out on the
+porch by a vigorous old colored woman. She was Mrs. Ella Thompson,
+Felix' youngest sister, who had known only seven years of slavery. After
+a timid "How-do-you-do," and a comment on the great heat of the June
+day, she went back in the house. Then the old Negro began searching his
+92 years of reminiscences, intermixing his findings with philosophy,
+poetry and prognostications.
+
+"It's a funny thing how folks always want to know about the War. The war
+weren't so great as folks suppose. Sometimes you didn't knowed it was
+goin' on. It was the endin' of it that made the difference. That's when
+we all wakes up that somethin' had happened. Oh, we knowed what was
+goin' on in it all the time, 'cause old man Gudlow went to the post
+office every day and we knowed. We had papers in them days jus' like
+now.
+
+"But the War didn't change nothin'. We saw guns and we saw soldiers, and
+one member of master's family, Colmin Gudlow, was gone
+fightin'--somewhere. But he didn't get shot no place but one--that was
+in the big toe. Then there was neighbors went off to fight. Some of 'em
+didn't want to go. They was took away (conscription). I'm thinkin' lots
+of 'em pretended to want to go as soon as they had to go.
+
+"The ranch went on jus' like it always had before the war. Church went
+on. Old Mew Johnson, the preacher, seen to it church went on. The kids
+didn't know War was happenin'. They played marbles, see-saw and rode. I
+had old Buster, a ox, and he took me about plenty good as a horse.
+Nothin' was different. We got layed-onto(whipped) time on time, but
+gen'rally life was good--just as good as a sweet potato. The only misery
+I had was when a black spider bit me on the ear. It swelled up my head
+and stuff came out. I was plenty sick and Dr. Brennen, he took good care
+of me. The whites always took good care of people when they was sick.
+Hospitals couldn't do no better for you today.... Yes, maybe it was a
+black widow spider, but we called it the 'devil biter'.
+
+"Sometimes someone would come 'long and try to get us to run up North
+and be free. We used to laugh at that. There wasn't no reason to =run=
+up North. All we had to do was to =walk=, but walk =South=, and we'd be
+free as soon as we crossed the Rio Grande. In Mexico you could be free.
+They didn't care what color you was, black, white, yellow or blue.
+Hundreds of slaves did go to Mexico and got on all right. We would hear
+about 'em and how they was goin' to be Mexicans. They brought up their
+children to speak only Mexican.
+
+"Me and my father and five brothers and sisters weren't goin' to Mexico.
+I went there after the war for a while and then I looked 'round and
+decided to get back. So I come back to San Antonio and I got a job
+through Colonel Breckenridge with the waterworks. I was handling pipes.
+My foreman was Tom Flanigan--he must have been a full-blooded Frenchman!
+
+"But what I want to say is, we didn't have no idea of runnin' and
+escapin'. We was happy. We got our lickings, but just the same we got
+our fill of biscuits every time the white folks had 'em. Nobody knew how
+it was to lack food. I tell my chillen we didn't know no more about
+pants than a hawg knows about heaven; but I tells 'em that to make 'em
+laugh. We had all the clothes we wanted and if you wanted shoes bad
+enough you got 'em--shoes with a brass square toe. And shirts! Mister,
+them was shirts that was shirts! If someone gets caught by his shirt on
+a limb of a tree, he had to die there if he weren't cut down. Them
+shirts wouldn't rip no more'n buckskin.
+
+"The end of the war, it come jus' like that--like you snap your
+fingers."
+
+"How did you know the end of the war had come?" asked the interviewer.
+
+"How did we know it! Hallelujah broke out--
+
+    "'Abe Lincoln freed the nigger
+    With the gun and the trigger;
+  And I ain't goin' to get whipped any more.
+    I got my ticket,
+    Leavin' the thicket,
+  And I'm a-headin' for the Golden Shore!'
+
+"Soldiers, all of a sudden, was everywhere--comin' in bunches, crossin'
+and walkin' and ridin'. Everyone was a-singin'. We was all walkin' on
+golden clouds. Hallelujah!
+
+  "'Union forever,
+  Hurrah, boys, hurrah!
+  Although I may be poor,
+  I'll never be a slave--
+  Shoutin' the battle cry of freedom.'
+
+"Everybody went wild. We all felt like heroes and nobody had made us
+that way but ourselves. We was free. Just like that, we was free. It
+didn't seem to make the whites mad, either. They went right on giving us
+food just the same. Nobody took our homes away, but right off colored
+folks started on the move. They seemed to want to get closer to freedom,
+so they'd know what it was--like it was a place or a city. Me and my
+father stuck, stuck close as a lean tick to a sick kitten. The Gudlows
+started us out on a ranch. My father, he'd round up cattle, unbranded
+cattle, for the whites. They was cattle that they belonged to, all
+right; they had gone to find water 'long the San Antonio River and the
+Guadalupe. Then the whites gave me and my father some cattle for our
+own. My father had his own brand, 7 B ), and we had a herd to start out
+with of seventy.
+
+"We knowed freedom was on us, but we didn't know what was to come with
+it. We thought we was goin' to get rich like the white folks. We thought
+we was goin' to be richer than the white folks, 'cause we was stronger
+and knowed how to work, and the whites didn't and they didn't have us to
+work for them anymore. But it didn't turn out that way. We soon found
+out that freedom could make folks proud but it didn't make 'em rich.
+
+"Did you ever stop to think that thinking don't do any good when you do
+it too late? Well, that's how it was with us. If every mother's son of a
+black had thrown 'way his hoe and took up a gun to fight for his own
+freedom along with the Yankees, the war'd been over before it began. But
+we didn't do it. We couldn't help stick to our masters. We couldn't no
+more shoot 'em than we could fly. My father and me used to talk 'bout
+it. We decided we was too soft and freedom wasn't goin' to be much to
+our good even if we had a education."
+
+The old Negro was growing very tired, but, at a request, he instantly
+got up and tapped his way out into the scorching sunshine to have his
+photograph taken. Even as he did so, he seemed to smile with those
+blurred, dead eyes of his. Then he chuckled to himself and said:
+
+  "'Warmth of the wind
+  And heat of the South,
+  And ripe red cherries
+  For a ripe, red mouth.'"
+
+"Land sakes, Felix!" came through the window from sister Ella. "How you
+carries on! Don't you be a-mindin' him, mister."
+
+
+
+
+420096
+
+
+[Illustration: Phoebe Henderson]
+
+
+     PHOEBE HENDERSON, a 105 year old Negro of Harrison Co., was born a
+     slave of the Bradley family at Macon, Georgia. After the death of
+     her mistress, Phoebe belonged to one of the daughters, Mrs. Wiley
+     Hill, who moved to Panola County, Texas in 1859, where Phoebe lived
+     until after the Civil War. For the past 22 years she has lived with
+     Mary Ann Butler, a daughter, about five miles east of Marshall, in
+     Enterprise Friendship Community. She draws a pension of $16.00 a
+     month.
+
+
+"I was bo'n a slave of the Bradley family in Macon, Georgia. My father's
+name was Anthony Hubbard and he belonged to the Hubbard's in Georgia. He
+was a young man when I lef' Georgia and I never heard from him since. I
+'member my mother; she had a gang of boys. Marster Hill brought her to
+Texas with us.
+
+"My ole missus name was Bradley and she died in Tennessee. My lil'
+missus was her daughter. After dey brought us to Texas in 1859 I worked
+in the field many a day, plowin' and hoein', but the children didn't do
+much work 'cept carry water. When dey git tired, dey'd say dey was sick
+and the overseer let 'em lie down in de shade. He was a good and kindly
+man and when we do wrong and go tell him he forgave us and he didn't
+whip the boys 'cause he was afraid they'd run away.
+
+"I worked in de house, too. I spinned seven curts a day and every night
+we run two looms, makin' large curts for plow lines. We made all our
+clothes. We didn't wear shoes in Georgia but in this place the land was
+rough and strong, so we couldn't go barefooted. A black man that worked
+in the shop measured our feet and made us two pairs a year. We had good
+houses and dey was purty good to us. Sometimes missus give us money and
+each family had their garden and some chickens. When a couple marry, the
+master give them a house and we had a good time and plenty to wear and
+to eat. They cared for us when we was sick.
+
+"Master Wiley Hill had a big plantation and plenty of stock and hawgs,
+and a big turnip patch. He had yellow and red oxen. We never went to
+school any, except Sunday school. We'd go fishin' often down on the
+creek and on Saturday night we'd have parties in the woods and play ring
+plays and dance.
+
+"My husband's name was David Henderson and we lived on the same place
+and belonged to the same man. No, suh, Master Hill didn't have nothin'
+to do with bringin' us together. I guess God done it. We fell in love,
+and David asked Master Hill for me. We had a weddin' in the house and
+was married by a colored Baptist preacher. I wore a white cotton dress
+and Missus Hill give me a pan of flour for a weddin' present. He give us
+a house of our own. My husband was good to me. He was a careful man and
+not rowdy. When we'd go anywhere we'd ride horseback and I'd ride behin'
+him.
+
+"I's scared to talk 'bout when I was freed. I 'member the soldiers and
+that warrin' and fightin'. Toby, one of the colored boys, joined the
+North and was a mail messenger boy and he had his horse shot out from
+under him. But I guess its a good thing we was freed, after all.
+
+
+
+
+420007
+
+
+[Illustration: Albert Hill]
+
+
+     ALBERT HILL, 81, was born a slave of Carter Hill, who owned a
+     plantation and about 50 slaves, in Walton Co., Georgia. Albert
+     remained on the Hill place until he was 21, when he went to
+     Robinson Co., Texas. He now lives at 1305 E. 12th St., Fort Worth,
+     Texas, in a well-kept five-room house, on a slope above the Trinity
+     River.
+
+
+"I was born on Massa Carter Hill's plantation, in Georgia, and my name
+am Albert Hill. My papa's name was Dillion, 'cause he taken dat name
+from he owner, Massa Tom Dillion. He owned de plantation next to Massa
+Hill's, and he owned my mammy and us 13 chillen. I don't know how old I
+is, but I 'members de start of de war, and I was a sizeable chile den.
+
+"De plantation wasn't so big and wasn't so small, jus' fair size, but it
+am fixed first class and everything am good. We has good quarters made
+out of logs and lots of tables and benches, what was made of split logs.
+We has de rations and massa give plenty of de cornmeal and beans and
+'lasses and honey. Sometimes we has tea, and once in a while we gits
+coffee. And does we have de tasty and tender hawg meat! I'd like to see
+some of dat hawg meat now.
+
+"Massa am good but he don't 'low de parties. But we kin go to Massa
+Dillion's place next to us and dey has lots of parties and de dances. We
+dances near all night Saturday night, but we has to stay way in de back
+where de white folks can't hear us. Sometimes we has de fiddle and de
+banjo and does we cut dat chicken wing and de shuffle! We sho' does.
+
+"I druv de ox, and drivin' dat ox am agitation work in de summer time
+when it am hot, 'cause dey runs for water every time. But de worst
+trouble I ever has is with one hoss. I fotches de dinner to de workers
+out in de field and I use dat hoss, hitched to de two-wheel cart. One
+day him am halfway and dat hoss stop. He look back at me, a-rollin' de
+eye, and I knows what dat mean--'Here I stays, nigger.' But I heered to
+tie de rope on de balky hosses tail and run it 'twixt he legs and tie to
+de shaft. I done dat and puts some cuckleburrs on de rope, too. Den I
+tech him with de whip and he gives de rear back'ards. Dat he best rear.
+When he do dat it pull de rope and de rope pull de tail and de burrs
+gits busy. Dat hoss moves for'ard faster and harder den what he ever
+done 'fore, and he keep on gwine. You see, he am trying git 'way from he
+tail, but de tail am too fast. Course, it stay right behin' him. Den I's
+in de picklement. Dat hoss am runnin' away and I can't stop him. De
+workers lines up to stop him but de cart give de shove and dat pull he
+tail and, lawdy whoo, dat hose jump for'ard like de jackrabbit and go
+through dat line of workers. So I steers him into de fence row, and
+dere's no more runnin', but an awful mix-up with de hoss and de cart and
+de rations. Dat hoss so sceered him have de quavers. Massa say, 'What
+you doin'?' I says, 'Break de balk.' He say, 'Well, yous got everything
+else broke. We'll see 'bout de balk later.'
+
+Massa has de daughter, Mary, and she want to marry Bud Jackson, but
+massa am 'gainst it. Bud am gwine to de army and dat give dis boy work,
+'cause I de messenger boy for him and Missy Mary. Dey keeps company
+unbeknownst and I carry de notes. I puts de paper in de hollow stump.
+Once I's sho' I's kotched. Dere am de massa and he say, 'Where you been,
+nigger?' I's sho' skeert and I says, 'I's lookin' for de squirrels.' So
+massa goes 'way and when I tells you I's left, it ain't de proper word
+for to 'splain, 'cause I's flew from here.' I tells Missy Mary and she
+say, 'You sho' am de Lawd's chosen nigger.'
+
+"De 'federate soldiers comes and dey takes de rations, but de massa has
+dug de pit in de pasture and buried lots of de rations, so de soldiers
+don't find so much. De clostest battle was Atlanta, more dan 25 mile
+'way.
+
+"When de war come over, Bud Jackson he come home. De massa welcome him,
+to de sprise of everybody, and when Bud say he want to marry Missy Mary,
+massa say, 'I guesses you has earnt her.'
+
+"When freedom am here, massa call all us together and tells us 'bout de
+difference 'tween freedom and hustlin' for ourselves and dependin' on
+someone else. Most of de slaves stays, and massa pays them for de work,
+and I stays till I's 21 year old, and I gits $7.00 de month and de
+clothes and de house and all I kin eat. De massa have died 'fore dat,
+and dere am powerful sorrow. Missy Mary and Massa Bud has de plantation
+den, and dey don't want me to go to Texas. But dey goes on de visit and
+while dey gone I takes de train for Robinson County, what am in Texas.
+
+"I works at de pavin' work and at de hostlin' work and I works on de
+hosses. Den I works for de Santa Fe railroad, handlin' freight, and I
+works till 'bout three year ago, when I gits too old for to work no
+more.
+
+"But I tells you 'bout de visit back to de old plantation. I been gone
+near 40 year and I 'cides to go back, so I reaches de house and dere am
+Missy Mary peelin' apples on de back gallery. She looks at me, and she
+say, 'I got whippin' waiting for yous, 'cause you run off without
+tellin' us.' Dere wasn't no more peelin' dat day, 'cause we sits and
+talks 'bout de old times and de old massa. Dere sho' am de tears in dis
+nigger's eyes. Den we talks 'bout de nigger messenger I was, and we
+laughs a little. All day long we talks a little, and laughs and cries
+and talks. I stays 'bout two weeks and seed lots of de folks I knowed
+when I was young, de white folks and de niggers, too.
+
+"I's too old to make any more visits, but I would like to go back to Old
+Georgia once more. If Missy Mary was 'live, I'd try, but she am dead, so
+I tries to wait for old Gabriel blow he horn. When he blow he horn, dis
+nigger say, 'Louder, Gabriel, louder!'
+
+
+
+
+420308
+
+
+     ROSINA HOARD does not know just where she was born. The first thing
+     she remembers is that she and her parents were purchased by Col.
+     Pratt Washington, who owned a plantation near Garfield, in Travis
+     County, Texas. Rosina, who is a very pleasant and sincere person,
+     says she has had a tough life since she was free. She receives a
+     monthly pension of fourteen dollars, for which she expresses
+     gratitude. Her address is 1301 Chestnut St., Austin, Tex.
+
+
+"When I's a gal, I's Rosina Slaughter, but folks call me Zina. Yes, sar.
+It am Zina dat and Zina dis. I says I's born April 9, 1859, but I 'lieve
+I's older. It was somewhere in Williamson County, but I don't know the
+massa's name. My mammy was Lusanne Slaughter and she was stout but in
+her last days she got to be a li'l bit of a woman. She died only last
+spring and she was a hunerd eleven years old.
+
+"Papa was a Baptist preacher to de day of he death. He had asthma all
+his days. I 'member how he had de sorrel hoss and would ride off and
+preach under some arbor bush. I rid with him on he hoss.
+
+"First thing I 'member is us was bought by Massa Col. Pratt Washington
+from Massa Lank Miner. Massa Washington was purty good man. He boys,
+George and John Henry, was de only overseers. Dem boys treat us nice.
+Massa allus rid up on he hoss after dinner time. He hoss was a bay, call
+Sank. De fields was in de bottoms of de Colorado River. De big house was
+on de hill and us could see him comin'. He weared a tall, beaver hat
+allus.
+
+"De reason us allus watch for him am dat he boy, George, try larn us our
+A B C's in de field. De workers watch for massa and when dey seed him
+a-ridin' down de hill dey starts singin' out, 'Ole hawg 'round de
+bench--Ole hawg 'round de bench.'
+
+"Dat de signal and den everybody starts workin' like dey have something
+after dem. But I's too young to larn much in de field and I can't read
+today and have to make de cross when I signs for my name.
+
+"Each chile have he own wood tray. Dere was old Aunt Alice and she done
+all de cookin' for de chillen in de depot. Dat what dey calls de place
+all de chillen stays till dere mammies come home from de field. Aunt
+Alice have de big pot to cook in, out in de yard. Some days we had beans
+and some day peas. She put great hunks of salt bacon in de pot, and bake
+plenty cornbread, and give us plenty milk.
+
+"Some big chillen have to pick cotton. Old Junus was de cullud overseer
+for de chillen and he sure mean to dem. He carry a stick and use it,
+too.
+
+"One day de blue-bellies come to de fields. Dey Yankee sojers, and tell
+de slaves dey free. Some stayed and some left. Papa took us and move to
+de Craft plantation, not far 'way, and farm dere.
+
+"I been married three time. First to Peter Collinsworth. I quit him.
+Second to George Hoard. We stayed togedder till he die, and have five
+chillen. Den I marries he brother, Jim Hoard. I tells you de truth, Jim
+never did work much. He'd go fishin' and chop wood by de days, but not
+many days. He suffered with de piles. I done de housework and look after
+de chillen and den go out and pick two hunerd pound cotton a day. I was
+a cripple since one of my boys birthed. I git de rheumatis' and my knees
+hurt so much sometime I rub wed sand and mud on dem to ease de pain.
+
+"We had a house at Barton Springs with two rooms, one log and one box. I
+never did like it up dere and I told Jim I's gwine. I did, but he come
+and got me.
+
+"Since freedom I's been through de toughs. I had to do de man's work,
+chop down trees and plow de fields and pick cotton. I want to tell you
+how glad I is to git my pension. It is sure nice of de folks to take
+care of me in my old age. Befo' I got de pension I had a hard time. You
+can sho' say I's been through de toughs.
+
+
+
+
+420286
+
+
+     TOM HOLLAND was born in Walker County, Texas, and thinks he is
+     about 97 years old. His master, Frank Holland, traded Tom to
+     William Green just before the Civil War. After Tom was freed, he
+     farmed both for himself and for others in the vicinity of his old
+     home. He now lives in Madisonville, Texas.
+
+
+"My owner was Massa Frank Holland, and I's born on his place in Walker
+County. I had one sister named Gena and three brothers, named George and
+Will and Joe, but they's all dead now. Mammy's name was Gena and my
+father's named Abraham Holland and they's brung from North Carolina to
+Texas by Massa Holland when they's real young.
+
+"I chopped cotton and plowed and split rails, then was a horse rider. In
+them days I could ride the wildest horse what ever made tracks in Texas,
+but I's never valued very high 'cause I had a glass eye. I don't 'member
+how I done got it, but there it am. I'd make a dollar or fifty cents to
+ride wild horses in slavery time and massa let me keep it. I buyed
+tobacco and candy and if massa cotch me with tobacco I'd git a whippin',
+but I allus slipped and bought chewin' tobacco.
+
+"We allus had plenty to eat, sich as it was them days, and it was good,
+plenty wild meat and cornbread cooked in ashes. We toasted the meat on a
+open fire, and had plenty possum and rabbit and fish.
+
+"We wore them loyal shirts open all way down the front, but I never seed
+shoes till long time after freedom. In cold weather massa tanned lots of
+hides and we'd make warm clothes. My weddin' clothes was a white loyal
+shirt, never had no shoes, married barefooted.
+
+"Massa Frank, he one real good white man. He was awful good to his
+Negroes. Missis Sally, she a plumb angel. Their three chillen stayed
+with me nearly all the time, askin' this Negro lots of questions. They
+didn't have so fine a house, neither, two rooms with a big hall through
+and no windows and deer skins tacked over the door to keep out rain and
+cold. It was covered with boards I helped cut after I got big 'nough.
+
+"Massa Frank had cotton and corn and everything to live on, 'bout three
+hundred acres, and overseed it himself, and seven growed slaves and five
+little slaves. He allus waked us real early to be in the field when
+daylight come and worked us till slap dark, but let us have a hour and a
+half at noon to eat and rest up. Sometimes when slaves got stubborn he'd
+whip them and make good Negroes out of them, 'cause he was real good to
+them.
+
+"I seed slaves sold and auctioned off, 'cause I's put up to the highest
+bidder myself. Massa traded me to William Green jus' 'fore the war, for
+a hundred acres land at $1.00 a acre. He thought I'd never be much
+'count, 'cause I had the glass eye, but I'm still livin' and a purty
+fair Negro to my age. All the hollerin' and bawlin' took place and when
+he sold me it took me most a year to git over it, but there I was,
+'longin' to 'nother man.
+
+"If we went off without a pass we allus went two at a time. We slipped
+off when we got a chance to see young folks on some other place. The
+patterrollers cotched me one night and, Lawd have mercy on me, they
+stretches me over a log and hits thirty-nine licks with a rawhide loaded
+with rock, and every time they hit me the blood and hide done fly. They
+drove me home to massa and told him and he called a old mammy to doctor
+my back, and I couldn't work for four days. That never kep' me from
+slippin' off 'gain, but I's more careful the next time.
+
+"We'd go and fall right in at the door of the quarters at night, so
+massa and the patterrollers thinks we's real tired and let us alone and
+not watch us. That very night we'd be plannin' to slip off somewheres to
+see a Negro gal or our wife, or to have a big time, 'specially when the
+moon shine all night so we could see. It wouldn't do to have torch
+lights. They was 'bout all the kind of lights we had them days and if we
+made light, massa come to see what we're doin', and it be jus' too bad
+then for the stray Negro!
+
+"That there war brung suffrin' to lots of people and made a widow out of
+my missis. Massa William, he go and let one them Yankees git him in one
+of them battles and they never brung him home. Missis, she gits the
+letter from his captain, braggin' on his bravery, but that never helped
+him after he was kilt in the war. She gits 'nother letter that us
+Negroes is free and she tells us. We had no place to go, so we starts to
+cry and asks her what we gwine do. She said we could stay and farm with
+her and work her teams and use her tools and land and pay her half of
+what we made, 'sides our supplies. That's a happy bunch of Negroes when
+she told us this.
+
+"Late in that evenin' the Negroes in Huntsville starts hollerin' and
+shoutin' and one gal was hollerin' loud and a white man come ridin' on a
+hoss and leans over and cut that gal nearly half in two and a covered
+wagon come along and picks her up and we never heared nothin' more.
+
+"I married Imogene, a homely weddin' 'fore the war. We didn't have much
+to-do at our weddin'. I asks missis if I could have Imogene and she says
+yes and that's all they was to our weddin'. We had three boys and three
+gals, and Imogene died 'bout twenty years ago and I been livin' with one
+child and 'nother. I gits a little pension from the gov'ment and does
+small jobs round for the white people.
+
+"I 'lieve they ought to have gived us somethin' when we was freed, but
+they turned us out to graze or starve. Most of the white people turned
+the Negroes slam loose. We stayed a year with missis and then she
+married and her husband had his own workers and told us to git out. We
+worked for twenty and thirty cents a day then, and I fin'ly got a place
+with Dr. L.J. Conroe. But after the war the Negro had a hard struggle,
+'cause he was turned loose jus' like he came into the world and no
+education or 'sperience.
+
+"If the Negro wanted to vote the Klu Kluxes was right there to keep him
+from votin'. Negroes was 'fraid to git out and try to 'xert they
+freedom. They'd ride up by a Negro and shoot him jus' like a wild hawg
+and never a word said or done 'bout it.
+
+"I's farmed and makin' a livin' is 'bout all. I come over here in
+Madison County and rents from B.F. Young, clost to Midway and gits me a
+few cows. I been right round here ever since. I lives round with my
+chillen now, 'cause I's gittin' too old to work.
+
+"This young bunch of Negroes is all right some ways, but they won't tell
+the truth. They isn't raised like the white folks raised us. If we
+didn't tell the truth our massa'd tear us all to pieces. Of course, they
+is educated now and can get 'most any kind of work, some of them, what
+we couldn't.
+
+
+
+
+420052
+
+
+[Illustration: Eliza Holman]
+
+
+     ELIZA HOLMAN, 82, was born a slave of the Rev. John Applewhite,
+     near Clinton, Mississippi. In 1861 they came to Texas, settling
+     near Decatur. Eliza now lives at 2507 Clinton Ave., Fort Worth,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"Talk 'bout de past from de time I 'members till now, slave days and
+all? Dat not so hard. I knows what de past am, but what to come, dat am
+different. Dey says, 'Let de past be de guide for de future,' but if you
+don't know de future road, hows you gwine guide? I's sho' glad to tell
+you all I 'members, but dat am a long 'memberance.
+
+"I know I's past 80, for sho', and maybe more, 'cause I's old 'nough to
+'member befo' de war starts. I 'members when de massa move to Texas by
+de ox team and dat am some trip! Dey loads de wagon till dere ain't no
+more room and den sticks we'uns in, and we walks some of de time, too.
+
+"My massa am a preacherman and have jus' three slaves, me and pappy and
+mammy. She am cook and housekeeper and I helps her. Pappy am de field
+hand and de coachman and everything else what am needed. We have a nice,
+two-room log house to live in and it am better den what mos' slaves
+have, with de wood floor and real windows with glass in dem.
+
+"Massa am good but he am strict. He don't have to say much when he wants
+you to do somethin'. Dere am no honey words round de house from him, but
+when him am preachin' in de church, him am different. He am honey man
+den. Massa could tell de right way in de church but it am hard for him
+to act it at home. He makes us go to church every Sunday.
+
+"But I's tellin' you how we'uns come to Texas. De meals am cook by de
+campfire and after breakfast we starts and it am bump, bump, bump all
+day long. It am rocks and holes and mudholes, and it am streams and
+rivers to cross. We'uns cross one river, musta been de Mississippi, and
+drives on a big bridge and dey floats dat bridge right 'cross dat river.
+
+"Massa and missus argues all de way to Texas. She am skeert mos' de time
+and he allus say de Lawd take care of us. He say, 'De Lawd am a-guidin'
+us.' She say, 'It am fools guidin' and a fool move for to start.' Dat de
+way dey talks all de way. And when we gits in de mudhole 'twas a
+argument 'gain. She say, 'Dis am some more of your Lawd's calls.' He
+say, 'Hush, hush, woman. Yous gittin' sac'ligious.' So we has to walk
+two mile for a man to git his yoke of oxen to pull us out dat mudhole,
+and when we out, massa say, 'Thank de Lawd.' And missus say, 'Thank de
+mens and de oxen.'
+
+"Den one day we'uns camps under a big tree and when we'uns woke in de
+mornin' dere am worms and worms and worms. Millions of dem come off dat
+tree. Man, man, dat am a mess. Massa say dey army worms and missus say,
+'Why for dey not in de army den?'
+
+"After we been in Texas 'bout a year, missy Mary gits married to John
+Olham. Missy Mary am massa's daughter. After dat I lives with her and
+Massa John and den hell start poppin' for dis nigger. Missy Mary am good
+but Massa John am de devil. Dat man sho' am cruel, he works me to death
+and whups me for de leas' thing. My pappy say to me, 'You should 'come a
+runaway nigger.' He runs 'way hisself and dat de las' time we hears of
+him.
+
+"When surrender come I has to stay on with Massa Olham, 'cause I has no
+place to go and I's too young to know how to do for myself. I stays
+'bout till I's 16 year old and den I hunts some place to work and gits
+it in Jacksboro and stays dere sev'ral years. I quits when I gits
+married and dat 'bout nine year after de war end.
+
+"I marries Dick Hines at Silver Creek and he am a farmer and a contrary
+man. He worked jus' as hard at his contrariness as him did at his
+farmin'. Mercy, how distressin' and worryment am life with dat nigger! I
+couldn't stand it no longer dan five year till I tooks my getaway. De
+nex' year I marries Sam Walker what worked for cattlement here in Fort
+Worth and he died 'bout 20 year ago. Den 'twas 'bout 13 year ago I
+marries Jack Holman and he died in 1930. I's sho' try dis marrin'
+business but I ain't gwine try it no more, no, suh.
+
+"'Twixt all dem husbands and workin' for de white folks I gits 'long,
+but I's old and de last few years I can't work. Dey pays me $12.00 de
+month from de State and dat's what I lives on. Shucks, I's not worth
+nothin' no more. I jus' sets and sets and thinks of de old days and my
+mammy. All dat make me sad. I'll tell you one dem songs what 'spresses
+my feelin's 'zactly.
+
+  "I's am climbin' Jacob's ladder, ladder,
+  I's am climbin' Jacob's ladder, ladder,
+  Soldier of de cross; O-h-h-h! Rise and shine,
+  Give Gawd de glory, glory, glory,
+  In de year of Jubilee.
+  I wants to climb up Jacob's ladder, ladder,
+  Jacob's ladder, till I gits in de new Jerusalem.
+
+"Dat jus' how I feels."
+
+
+
+
+420143
+
+
+     LARNCE HOLT, 79, was born near Woodville, in Tyler County, Texas, a
+     slave of William Holt. He now lives in Beaumont, Texas.
+
+
+"I's jus' small fry when freedom come, 'cause I's born in 1858. Bill
+Holt was my massa's name, dat why dey calls me Larnce Holt. My massa, he
+come from Alabama but my mammy and daddy born in Texas. Mammy named
+Hannah and daddy Elbert. Mammy cooked for de white folks but daddy, he
+de shoemaker. Dat consider' a fine job on de plantation, 'cause he make
+all de shoes de white folks uses for everyday and all de cullud people
+shoes. Every time dey kill de beef dey save de hide for leather and dey
+put it in de trough call de tan vat, with de oak bark and other things,
+and leave 'em dere long time. Dat change de raw hide to leather. When de
+shoe done us black dem with soot, 'cause us have to do dat or wear 'em
+red. I's de little tike what help my daddy put on de soot.
+
+"Massa have de big plantation and I 'member de big log house. It have de
+gallery on both sides and dey's de long hall down de center. De dogs and
+sometimes a possum used to run through de hall at night. De hall was big
+'nough to dance in and I plays de fiddle.
+
+"My mammy have four boys, call Eb and Ander and Tobe. My big brother Eb
+he tote so many buckets of water to de hands in de field he wore all de
+hair offen de top he head.
+
+"I be so glad when Christmas come, when I's li'l. Down in de quarter us
+hang up stocking and us have plenty homemake ginger cake and candy make
+out of sugar and maybe a apple. One Christmas I real small and my mammy
+buy me a suit of clothes in de store. I so proud of it I 'fraid to sit
+down in it. 'Terials in dem day was strong and last a long time. One
+time I git de first pair shoes from a store. I thought dey's gold. My
+daddy bought dem for me and dey have a brace in de toe and was nat'ral
+black.
+
+"When freedom come us family breaks up. Old missy can't bear see my
+mammy go, so us stay. Dey give my daddy a place on credick and he start
+farm and dey even 'low him hosses and mule and other things he need. My
+massa good to de niggers. I stays with my mammy till she die when I ten
+year old and den my brother Eb he take me and raise me till I sixteen.
+Den I go off for myself.
+
+"Dem young year us have good time. I fiddle to de dance, play 'Git up in
+de Cool,' and 'Hopus Creek and de Water.' Us sho' dress up for de dance.
+I have black calico pants with red ribbon up de sides and a hickory
+shirt. De gals all wears ribbons 'round de waist and one like it 'round
+de head.
+
+"Us have more hard time after freedom come dan in all de other time
+together. Us livin' in trouble time. 'Bout 15 year ago I lost a leg, a
+big log fall 'cross it when I makin' ties. I had plenty den but it go
+for de hospital.
+
+
+
+
+420120
+
+
+[Illustration: Bill Homer]
+
+
+     BILL HOMER, 87, was born a slave on June 17, 1850, to Mr. Jack
+     Homer, who owned a large plantation near Shreveport, La. In 1860
+     Bill was given to Mr. Homer's daughter, who moved to Caldwell,
+     Texas. Bill now lives at 3215 McKinley Ave., Fort Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"I is 87 years old, 'cause I is born on June 17th, in 1850, and that's
+'cording to de statement my missy give me. I was born on Massa Jack
+Homer's plantation, close to Shreveport. Him owned my mammy and my pappy
+and 'bout 100 other slaves. Him's plantation was a big un. I don't know
+how many acres him have, but it was miles long. Dere was so many
+buildings and sheds on dat place it was a small town. De massa's house
+was a big two-story building and dere was de spinnin' house, de
+smokehouse, de blacksmith shop and a nursery for de cullud chillens and
+a lot of sheds and sich. In de nigger quarters dere was 50 one-room
+cabins and dey was ten in a row and dere was five rows.
+
+"De cabins was built of logs and had dirt floors and a hole whar a
+window should be and a stone fireplace for de cookin' and de heat. Dere
+was a cookhouse for de big house and all de cookin' for de white folks
+was 'tended to by four cooks. We has lots of food, too--cornmeal and
+vegetables and milk and 'lassas and meat. For mos' de meat dey kotched
+hawgs in de Miss'sippi River bottoms. Once a week, we have white flour
+biscuit.
+
+"Some work was hard and some easy, but massa don' 'lieve in overworkin'
+his slaves. Sat'day afternoon and Sunday, dere was no work. Some
+whippin' done, but mos' reasonable. If de nigger stubborn, deys whips
+'nough for to change his mind. If de nigger runs on, dat calls de good
+whippin's. If any of de cullud folks has de misery, dey lets him res' in
+bed and if de misery bad de massa call de doctor.
+
+"I larnt to be coachman and drive for massa's family. But in de year of
+1860, Missy Mary gits married to Bill Johnson and at dat weddin' massa
+Homer gives me and 49 other niggers to her for de weddin' present. Massa
+Johnson's father gives him 50 niggers too. Dey has a gran' weddin'. I
+helps take care of de hosses and dey jus' kep' a-comin'. I 'spect dere
+was more'n 100 peoples dere and dey have lots of music and dancin' and
+eats and, I 'spects, drinks, 'cause we'uns made peach brandy. You see,
+de massa had his own still.
+
+"After de weddin' was over, dey gives de couple de infare. Dere's whar
+dis nigger comes in. I and de other niggers was lined up, all with de
+clean clothes on and den de massa say, 'For to give my lovin' daughter
+de start, I gives you dese 50 niggers. Massa Bill's father done de same
+for his son, and dere we'uns was, 100 niggers with a new massa.
+
+"Dey loads 15 or 20 wagons and starts for Texas. We travels from
+daylight to dark, with mos' de niggers walkin'. Of course, it was hard,
+but we enjoys de trip. Dere was one nigger called Monk and him knows a
+song and larned it to us, like this:
+
+  "'Walk, walk, you nigger, walk!
+  De road am dusty, de road am tough,
+  Dust in de eye, dust in de tuft;
+  Dust in de mouth, yous can't talk--
+  Walk, you niggers, don't you balk.
+
+  "'Walk, walk, you nigger walk!
+  De road am dusty, de road am rough.
+  Walk 'til we reach dere, walk or bust--
+  De road am long, we be dere by and by.'
+
+Now, we'uns was a-follerin' behin' de wagons and we'uns sings it to de
+slow steps of de ox. We'uns don't sing it many times 'til de missy come
+and sit in de back of de wagon, facin' we'uns and she begin to beat de
+slow time and sing wid we'uns. Dat please Missy Mary to sing with us and
+she laugh and laugh.
+
+"After 'bout two weeks we comes to de place near Caldwell, in Texas, and
+dere was buildin's and land cleared, so we's soon settled. Massa plants
+mostly cotton and corn and clears more land. I larned to be a coachman,
+but on dat place I de ox driver or uses de hoe.
+
+"Yous never drive de ox, did yous? De mule ain't stubborn side of de ox,
+de ox am stubborn and den some more. One time I's haulin' fence rails
+and de oxen starts to turn gee when I wants dem to go ahead. I calls for
+haw, but dey pays dis nigger no mind and keeps agwine gee. Den dey
+starts to run and de overseer hollers and asks me, 'Whar you gwine?' I
+hollers back, 'I's not gwine, I's bein' took.' Dem oxen takes me to de
+well for de water, 'cause if dey gits dry and is near water, dey goes in
+spite of de devil.
+
+"De treatment from new massa am good, 'cause of Missy Mary. She say to
+Massa Bill, 'if you mus' 'buse de nigger, 'buse yous own.' We has music
+and parties. We plays de quill, make from willow stick when de sap am
+up. Yous takes de stick and pounds de bark loose and slips it off, den
+slit de wood in one end and down one side, puts holes in de bark and put
+it back on de stick. De quill plays like de flute.
+
+"I never goes out without de pass, so I never has trouble with de patter
+rollers. Nigger Monk, him have de 'sperience with 'em. Dey kotched him
+twice and dey sho' makes him hump and holler. After dat he gits pass or
+stays to home.
+
+"De War make no diff'runce with us, 'cept de soldiers comes and takes de
+rations. But we'uns never goes hungry, 'cause de massa puts some niggers
+hustlin' for wil' hawgs. After surrender, missy reads de paper and tells
+dat we'uns is free, but dat we'uns kin stay 'til we is 'justed to de
+change.
+
+"De second year after de War, de massa sells de plantation and goes back
+to Louisiana and den we'uns all lef'. I goes to Laredo for seven year
+and works on a stock ranch, den I goes to farmin'. I gits married in
+1879 to Mary Robinson and we'uns has 14 chilluns. Four of dem lives
+here.
+
+"I works hard all my life 'til 1935 and den I's too old. My wife and I
+lives on de pensions we gits.
+
+
+
+
+420234
+
+
+[Illustration: Scott Hooper]
+
+
+     SCOTT HOOPER, 81, was born a slave of the Rev. Robert Turner, a
+     Baptist minister who owned seven slave families. They lived on a
+     small farm near Tenaha, then called Bucksnort, in Shelby County,
+     Texas. Scott's father was owned by Jack Hooper, a neighboring
+     farmer. Scott married Steve Hooper when she was thirteen and they
+     had eight children, whose whereabouts are now unknown to her. She
+     receives an $8.00 monthly pension.
+
+
+"Well, I'll do de best I can to tell yous 'bout my life. I used to have
+de good 'collection, but worryment 'bout ups and downs has 'fected my
+'membance. I knows how old I is, 'cause mammy have it in de Bible, and
+I's born in de year 1856, right in Shelby County, and near by Bucksnort,
+what am call Tenaha now.
+
+"Massa Turner am de bestest man he could be and taken good care of us,
+for sho'. He treat us like humans. There am no whuppin's like some other
+places has. Gosh. What some dem old slaves tell 'bout de whup and de
+short rations and lots of hard work am awful, so us am lucky.
+
+"Massa don't have de big place, but jus' seven families what was five to
+ten in de family. My mammy had nine chillen, but my pappy didn't live on
+us place, but on Jack Hooper's farm, what am four mile off. He comes
+Wednesday and Saturday night to see us. His massa am good, too, and lets
+him work a acre of land and all what he raises he can sell. Pappy plants
+cotton and mostest de time he raises better'n half de bale to
+he acre. Dat-a-way, he have money and he own pony
+and saddle, and he brung us chillen candy and toys and coffee and tea
+for mammy. He done save 'bout $500 when surrender come, but it am all
+'Federate money and it ain't worth nothin'. He give it to us chillen to
+play with.
+
+"Massa Turner am de Baptist preacherman and he have de church at
+Bucksnort. He run de store, too, and folks laughs 'cause 'sides being a
+preacherman he sells whiskey in dat store. He makes it medicine for us,
+with de cherry bark and de rust from iron nails in it. He call it,
+'Bitters,' and it a good name. It sho' taste bitter as gall. When us
+feels de misery it am bitters us gits. Castor oil am candy 'side dem
+bitters!
+
+"My grandmammy am de cook and all us eats in de shed. It am plenty food
+and meat and 'lasses and brown sugar and milk and butter, and even some
+white flour. Course, peas and beans am allus on dat table.
+
+"When surrender come massa calls all us in de yard and makes de talk. He
+tells us we's free and am awful sorry and show great worryment. He say
+he hate to part with us and us been good to him, but it am de law. He
+say us can stay and work de land on shares, but mostest left. Course,
+mammy go to Massa Hooper's place to pappy and he rents land from Massa
+Hooper, and us live there seven years and might yet, but dem Klu Klux
+causes so much troublement. All us niggers 'fraid to sleep in de house
+and goes to de woods at night. Pappy gits 'fraid something happen to us
+and come to Fort Worth. Dat in 1872 and he farms over in de bottom.
+
+"I's married to Steve Hooper den, 'cause us marry when I's thirteen
+years old. He goes in teamin' in Fort Worth and hauls sand and gravel
+twenty-nine years. He doin' sich when he dies in 1900. Den I does
+laundry work till I's too old. I tries to buy dis house and does fair
+till age catches me and now I can't pay for it. All I has is $8.00 de
+month and I's glad to git dat, but it won't even buy food. On sich
+'mount, there am no way to stinch myself and pinch off de payments on de
+house. Dat am de worryment.
+
+
+
+
+420021
+
+
+[Illustration: Alice Houston (A)]
+
+[Illustration: Alice Houston (B)]
+
+
+     ALICE HOUSTON, pioneer nurse and midwife on whom many San Angeloans
+     have relied for years, was born October 22, 1859. She was a slave
+     of Judge Jim Watkins on his small plantation in Hays County, near
+     San Marcos, Texas and served as house girl to her mistress, Mrs.
+     Lillie Watkins for many years after the Civil War. At Mrs. Watkins'
+     death she came with her husband, Jim Houston, to San Angelo, Texas
+     where she has continued her services as nurse to white families to
+     the present time.
+
+
+Alice relates her slave day experiences as follows:
+
+"I was jes' a little chile when dat Civil War broke out and I's had de
+bes' white folks in de world. My ole mistress she train me for her
+house girl and nurse maid. Dat's whar I's gits so many good ideas fer
+nursin'.
+
+"My mother's name was Mariah Watkins an' my father was named Henry
+Watkins. He would go out in de woods on Sat'day nights and ketch
+'possums and bring dem home and bake 'em wid taters. Dat was de best
+eatin' we had. Course we had good food all de time but we jes' like dat
+'possum best.
+
+"My marster, he only have four families and he had a big garden fer all
+of us. We had our huts at de back of de farm. Dey was made out of logs
+and de cracks daubbed up wid mud. Dey was clean and comfortable though,
+and we had good beds.
+
+"When we was jes' little kids ole marster he ketch us a stealin'
+watermelons and he say, 'Git! Git! Git! And when we runs and stoops over
+to crawl through de crack of de fence he sho' give us a big spank. Den
+we runs off cryin' and lookin' back like.
+
+"Ole marster, he had lots of hogs and cows and chickens and I can jes'
+taste dat clabber milk now. Ole miss, she have a big dishpan full of
+clabber and she tells de girl to set dat down out in de yard and she
+say, 'Give all dem chillun a spoon now and let dem eat dat.' When we all
+git 'round dat pan we sho' would lick dat clabber up.
+
+"We had straight slips made out of white lowell what was wove on dat ole
+spinnin' wheel. Den dey make jeans for de men's breeches and dye it wid
+copperas and some of de cloth dey dye wid sumac berries and hit was
+sho' purty too.
+
+"Ole miss, she make soda out of a certain kind of weed and dey makes
+coffee out of dried sweet taters.
+
+"My marster he didn' have no over-seer. He say his slaves had to be
+treated right. He never 'lowed none of his slaves to be sold 'way from
+their folks. I's nev'r, nev'r seen any slaves in chains but I's hear
+talk of dem chains.
+
+"My white folks, dey tries to teach us to read and spell and write some
+and after ole marster move into town he lets us go to a real school.
+That's how come I can read so many docto' books you see.
+
+"We goes to church wid our white folks at dem camp meetin's and oh
+Lawdy! Yes, mam, we all sho' did shout. Sometimes we jined de church
+too.
+
+"We washed our clothes on Sat'day and danced dat night.
+
+"On Christmas and New Year we would have all de good things old marster
+and ole missus had and when any of de white folks marry or die dey sho'
+carry on big. Weddin's and funerals, dem was de biggest times.
+
+"When we gits sick, ole marster he have de docto' right now. He sho' was
+good 'bout dat. Ole miss she make us wear a piece of lead 'round our
+necks fer de malaria and to keeps our nose from bleedin' and all of us
+wore some asafoetida 'round our necks to keep off contagion.
+
+"When de war close ole marster calls up all de slaves and he say, 'You's
+all free people now, jes' same as I is, and you can go or stay,' and we
+all wants to stay 'cause wasn't nothin' we knowed how to do only what
+ole marster tells us. He say he let us work de land and give us half of
+what we make, and we all stayed on several years until he died. We
+stayed with Miss Watkins, and here I is an ole nigga, still adoin' good
+in dis world, a-tellin' de white folks how to take care of de
+chilluns."
+
+
+
+
+420271
+
+
+     JOSEPHINE HOWARD was born in slavery on the Walton plantation near
+     Tuscaloosa, Alabama. She does not know her age, but when Mr. Walton
+     moved to Texas, before the Civil War, she was old enough to work in
+     the fields. Josephine is blind and very feeble. She lives with a
+     daughter at 1520 Arthur St., Houston, Texas.
+
+
+"Lawd have mercy, I been here a thousand year, seems like. 'Course I
+ain't been here so long, but it seems like it when I gits to thinkin'
+back. It was long time since I was born, long 'fore de war. Mammy's name
+was Leonora and she was cook for Marse Tim Walton what had de plantation
+at Tuscaloosa. Dat am in Alabamy. Papa's name was Joe Tatum and he lived
+on de place 'jinin' ourn. Course, papa and mamy wasn't married like
+folks now, 'cause dem times de white folks jes' put slave men and women
+together like hosses or cattle.
+
+"Dey allus done tell us it am wrong to lie and steal, but why did de
+white folks steal my mammy and her mammy? Dey lives clost to some water,
+somewheres over in Africy, and de man come in a little boat to de sho'
+and tell dem he got presents on de big boat. Most de men am out huntin'
+and my mammy and her mammy gits took out to dat big boat and dey locks
+dem in a black hole what mammy say so black you can't see nothin'. Dat
+de sinfulles' stealin' dey is.
+
+"De captain keep dem locked in dat black hole till dat boat gits to
+Mobile and dey is put on de block and sold. Mammy is 'bout twelve year
+old and dey am sold to Marse Tim, but grandma dies in a month and dey
+puts her in de slave graveyard.
+
+"Mammy am nuss gal till she git older and den cook, and den old Marse
+Tim puts her and papa together and she has eight chillen. I reckon Marse
+Tim warn't no wor'ser dan other white folks. De nigger driver sho' whip
+us, with de reason and without de reason. You never knowed. If dey done
+took de notion dey jes' lays it on you and you can't do nothin'.
+
+"One mornin' we is all herded up and mammy am cryin' and say dey gwine
+to Texas, but can't take papa. He don't 'long to dem. Dat de lastes'
+time we ever seed papa. Us and de women am put in wagons but de men
+slaves am chained together and has to walk.
+
+"Marse Tim done git a big farm up by Marshall but only live a year dere
+and his boys run de place. Dey jes' like dey papa, work us and work us.
+Lawd have mercy, I hear dat call in de mornin' like it jes' jesterday,
+'All right, everybody out, and you better git out iffen you don't want
+to feel dat bullwhip 'cross you back.'
+
+"My gal I lives with don't like me to talk 'bout dem times. She say it
+ain't no more and it ain't good to think 'bout it. But when you has live
+in slave times you ain't gwine forgit dem, no, suh! I's old and blind
+and no 'count, but I's alive, but in slave times I'd be dead long time
+ago, 'cause white folks didn't have no use for old niggers and git shet
+of dem one way or t'other.
+
+"It ain't till de sojers comes we is free. Dey wants us to git in de
+pickin', so my folks and some more stays. Dey didn't know no place to go
+to. Mammy done took sick and die and I hires out to cook for Missy
+Howard, and marries her coachman, what am Woodson Howard. We farms and
+comes to Houston nigh sixty year ago. Dey has mule cars den. Woodson
+gits a job drayin' and 'fore he dies we raises three boys and seven
+gals, but all 'cept two gals am dead now. Dey takes care of me, and dat
+all I know 'bout myself.
+
+
+
+
+420275
+
+
+     LIZZIE HUGHES, blind Negress of Harrison County, Texas, was born on
+     Christmas Day, 1848, a slave of Dr. Newton Fall, near Nacogdoches.
+     Lizzie married when she was eighteen and has lived near Marshall
+     since that time. She is cared for by a married daughter, who lives
+     on Lizzie's farm.
+
+
+"My name am Lizzie Fall Hughes. I was borned on Christmas at Chireno,
+'tween old Nacogdoches town and San Augustine. Dat eighty-nine year ago
+in slavery time. My young master give me my age on a piece of paper when
+I married but the rats cut it up.
+
+"I 'longed to Dr. Fall and old Miss Nancy, his wife. They come from
+Georgia. Papa was named Ed Wilson Fall and mammy was June. Dr. Newton
+Fall had a big place at Chireno and a hundred slaves. They lived in li'l
+houses round the edge of the field. We had everything we needed. Dr.
+Newton run a store and was a big printer. He had a printin' house at
+Chireno and 'nother in California.
+
+"The land was red and they worked them big Missouri mules and sho'
+raised somethin'. Master had fifty head of cows, too, and they was
+plenty wild game. When master was gone he had a overseer, but tell him
+not to whip. He didn't 'lieve in rushin' his niggers. All the white
+folks at Chireno was good to they niggers. On Saturday night master give
+all the men a jug of syrup and a sack of flour and a ham or middlin' and
+the smokehouse was allus full of beef and pork. We had a good time on
+that place and the niggers was happy. I 'member the men go out in the
+mornin', singin':
+
+  "'I went to the barn with a shinin', bright moon,
+  I went to the wood a-huntin' a coon.
+  The coon spied me from a sugar maple tree,
+  Down went my gun and up the tree went me.
+  Nigger and coon come tumblin' down,
+  Give the hide to master to take off to town,
+  That coon was full of good old fat,
+  And master brung me a new beaver hat.'
+
+  "Part of 'nother song go like this:
+
+  "'Master say, you breath smell of brandy,
+  Nigger say, no, I's lick 'lasses candy.'
+
+"When old master come to the lot and hear the men singin' like that, he
+say, 'Them boys is lively this mornin', I's gwine git a big day's
+plowin' done. They did, too, 'cause them big Missouri mules sho' tore up
+that red land. Sometime they sing:
+
+  "'This ain't Christmas mornin', just a long summer day,
+  Hurry up, yellow boy and don't run 'way,
+  Grass in the cotton and weeds in the corn,
+  Get in the field, 'cause it soon be morn.'
+
+"At night when the hands come in they didn't do nothin' but eat and cut
+up round the quarters. They'd have a big ball in a big barn there on the
+place and sixty and seventy on the floor at once, singin':
+
+  "'Juba this and Juba that,
+  Juba killed a yaller cat.
+  Juba this and Juba that,
+  Hold you partner where you at.'
+
+"The whites preached to the niggers and the niggers preached to
+theyselves. Gen'man sho' could preach good them times; everybody cried,
+they preached so good. I's a mourner when I git free.
+
+"I's big 'nough to work round the house when war starts, but not big
+'nough to be studyin' 'bout marryin'. I's sho' sorry when we's sot
+free. Old master didn't tell his niggers they free. He didn't want them
+to go. On a day he's gone, two white men come and showed us a piece of
+paper and say we's free now. One them men was a big mill man and told
+mama he'll give her $12.00 a month and feed her seven li'l niggers if
+she go cook for his millhands. Papa done die in slavery, so mama goes
+with the man. I run off and hid under the house. I wouldn't leave till I
+seed master. When he come home he say, 'Lizzie, why didn't you go?' I
+say, 'I don't want to leave my preserves and light bread.' He let me
+stay.
+
+"Then I gits me a li'l man. He works for master in the store and I works
+round the house. Master give me two dresses and a pair of shoes when I
+married. We lived with him a year or two and then come to Marshall. My
+husband worked on public work and I kept house for white folks and we
+saved our money and buyed this li'l farm. My man's dead fourteen years
+now and my gal and her husband keeps the farm goin'.
+
+"Me and my man didn't have nothin' when we left Nacogdoches, but we
+works hard and saves our money and buyed this farm. It 'pear like these
+young niggers don't try to 'cumulate nothin'.
+
+
+
+
+420226
+
+
+[Illustration: Moses Hursey]
+
+
+     MOSE HURSEY believes he is about eighty-two years old. He was born
+     in slavery on a plantation in Louisiana, and was brought to Texas
+     by his parents after they were freed. Mose has been a preacher most
+     of his life, and now believes he is appointed by God to be "Head
+     Prophet of the World." He lives with his daughter at 1120 Tenth
+     St., Dallas, Texas.
+
+
+"I was born somewhere in Louisiana, but can't rec'lect the place exact,
+'cause I was such a little chap when we left there. But I heared my
+mother and father say they belonged to Marse Morris, a fine gentleman,
+with everything fine. He sold them to Marse Jim Boling, of Red River
+County, in Texas. So they changes their name from Morris to Boling, Liza
+Boling and Charlie Boling, they was. Marse Boling didn't buy my brother
+and sister, so that made me the olderest child and the onliest one.
+
+"The Bolings had a 'normous big house and a 'normous big piece of land.
+The house was the finest I ever seen, white and two-story. He had about
+sixty slaves, and he thought a powerful lot of my folks, 'cause they was
+good workers. My mother, special, was a powerful 'ligious woman.
+
+"We lived right well, considerin'. We had a little log house like the
+rest of the niggers and I played round the place. Eatin' time come, my
+mother brung a pot of peas or beans and cornbread or side meat. I had
+'nother brother and sister comin' 'long then, and we had tin plates and
+cups and knives and spoons, and allus sot to our food.
+
+"We had 'nough of clothes, sich as they was. I wore shirttails out of
+duckings till I was a big boy. All the little niggers wore shirttails.
+My mother had fair to middlin' cotton dresses.
+
+"All week the niggers worked plantin' and hoein' and carin' for the
+livestock. They raised cotton and corn and veg'tables, and mules and
+horses and hawgs and sheep. On Sundays they had meetin', sometimes at
+our house, sometimes at 'nother house. Right fine meetin's, too. They'd
+preach and pray and sing--shout, too. I heared them git up with a
+powerful force of the spirit, clappin' they hands and walkin' round the
+place. They'd shout, 'I got the glory. I got that old time 'ligion in my
+heart.' I seen some powerful 'figurations of the spirit in them days.
+Uncle Billy preached to us and he was right good at preachin' and
+nat'rally a good man, anyways. We'd sing:
+
+  "'Sisters, won't you help me bear my cross,
+  Help me bear my cross,
+  I been done wear my cross.
+  I been done with all things here,
+  'Cause I reach over Zion's Hill.
+  Sisters, won't you please help bear my cross,
+  Up over Zion's hill?'
+
+"I seed a smart number of wagons and mules a-passin' along and some camp
+along the woods by our place. I heared they was a war and folks was
+goin' with 'visions and livestock. I wasn't much bigger'n a minute and I
+was scared clean to my wits.
+
+"Then they's a time when paw says we'll be a-searchin' a place to stay
+and work on a pay way. They was a consider'ble many niggers left the
+Bolings. The day we went away, which was 'cause 'twas the breakin' up of
+slavery, we went in the wagon, out the carriage gate in front the
+Boling's place. As we was leavin', Mr. Boling called me and give me a
+cup sweet coffee. He thought consid'ble plenty of me.
+
+"We went to a place called Mantua, or somethin' like that. My paw says
+he'll make a man of me, and he puts me to breakin' ground and choppin'
+wood. Them was bad times. Money was scarce and our feedin' was pore.
+
+"My paw died and maw and me and the children, Nancy and Margina and
+Jessie and George, moves to a little place right outside Sherman. Maw
+took in washin' and ironin'. I went one week to school and the teacher
+said I learned fastest of any boy she ever see. She was a nice, white
+lady. Maw took me out of school 'cause she needed me at home to tend the
+other children, so's she could work. I had a powerful yearnin' to read
+and write, and I studied out'n my books by myself and my friends helped
+me with the cipherin'.
+
+"I did whatever work I could find to do, but my maw said I was a
+different mood to the other children. I was allus of a 'ligious and
+serious turn of mind. I was baptised when I was fifteen and then when I
+was about twenty-five I heared a clear call to preach the Gospel-word. I
+went to preachin' the word of Gawd. I got married and raised a family of
+children, and I farmed and preached.
+
+"I was just a preacher till about thirty years ago, and then Gawd
+started makin' a prophet out of me. Today I am Mose Hursey, Head Prophet
+to the World. They is lesser prophets, but I is the main one. I became a
+great prophet by fastin' and prayin'. I fast Mondays and Wednesdays and
+Fridays. I know Gawd is feedin' the people through me. I see him in
+visions and he speaks to me. In 1936 I saw him at Commerce and Jefferson
+Streets (Dallas) and he had a great banner, sayin', 'All needs a
+pension.' In August this year I had a great vision of war in the eastern
+corner of the world. I seen miles of men marchin' and big guns and
+trenches filled with dead men. Gawd tells me to tell the people to be
+prepared, 'cause the tides of war is rollin' this way, and all the
+thousands of millions of dollars they spend agin it ain't goin' to stop
+it. I live to tell people the word Gawd speaks through me.
+
+
+
+
+420081
+
+
+[Illustration: Charley Hurt]
+
+
+     CHARLEY HURT, 85, was born a slave of John Hurt, who owned a large
+     plantation and over a hundred slaves, in Oglethorpe County,
+     Georgia. Charley stayed with his master for five years after the
+     Civil War. In 1899 Charley moved to Fort Worth, and now lives at
+     308 S. Harding St.
+
+
+"Yes, suh, I'm borned in slavery and not 'shamed of it, 'cause I can't
+help how I'm borned. Dere am folks what wont say dey borned in slavery.
+
+"Us plantation am near Maxie, over in Oglethorpe County, in Georgia, and
+massa am John Hurt and he have near a hunerd slaves. Us live in de li'l
+cabin make from logs chink with mud and straw and twigs am mix with dat
+mud to make it hold. De big chimley am outside de cabin mostly, and am
+logs and mud, too. De cabin am 'bout ten by twenty feet and jus' one
+room.
+
+"Would I like some dem rations we used to git, now? 'Deed I would. Dem
+was good, dat meat and cornmeal and 'lasses and plenty milk and
+sometimes butter. De meat am mostest pork, with some beef, 'cause massa
+raise plenty hawgs and tendin' meat curin' am my first work. I puts dat
+meat in de brine and den smokes de hams and shoulders. When hawg-killin'
+time come I'm busy watchin' de smokehouse, what am big, and hams and
+sich hung on racks 'bout six feet high from de fireplace. Den it my duty
+to keep dat fire smoulderin' and jus' smokin'. De more smoke, de better.
+Den I packs dat meat in hawgs heads and puts salt over each layer. Dat
+am some meat!
+
+"I mus' tell you 'bout dat whiskey and brandy. Massa have he own still
+and allus have three barrels or more whiskey and brandy on hand. Den on
+Christmas Day, him puts a tub of whiskey or brandy in de yard and hangs
+tin cups 'round de tub. Us helps ourselves. At first us start jokin'
+with each other, den starts to sing and everybody am happy. Massa
+watches us and if one us gittin' too much, massa sends him to he cabin
+and he sleep it off. Anyway, dat one day on massa's place all am happy
+and forgits dey am slaves.
+
+"De last Christmas 'fore surrender I gits too much and am sick. Gosh
+a-mighty! Dat de sickest I ever be and dat de last time I gits drunk.
+Yes, suh, dat spoil dis nigger's taste for whiskey.
+
+"Now, 'bout whuppin's, dere am only one whuppin' what am give. Jerry
+gits dat, 'cause he wont do what massa say. He tie Jerry on de log and
+have de rawhide whip.
+
+"Dere am system on dat plantation. Everybody do he own work, sich as
+field hands, stock hands, de blacksmith and de shoemaker and de weavers
+and clothes makers. I'm all 'round worker and goes after de mail, jus'
+runnin' 'round de place.
+
+"When de war start, all massa's sons jines de army. He have three. John
+am de captain and James carry de flag and I guesses August am jus' de
+plain sojer. Dey all comes home 'fore de war am finish. August git run
+over by de wheel of de cannon truck and it cripple he legs so he can't
+walk good. James gits sick with some kind fever misery and he am sent
+home. Den John am shot in de shoulder and it stay sore and won't heal.
+One day Jerry say to massa he want to look at dat sore. Him see
+somethin' stickin' out and he pull it. It a piece of young massa's coat
+and de bullet have carry it into de flesh and it am dere a whole year.
+De sore gits all right after dat out.
+
+"'Fore de boys goes to fightin' dey trains near de place where am de big
+field for to train hunerds of sojer boys. I likes dat, 'cause de drums
+goes, 'ter-ump, ter-ump, ter-ump, tump, tump,' and de fifes goes, 'te,
+te, ta, te, tat' and plays Dixie. One day Young massa trainin' dem
+sojers and he am walkin' backwards and facin' dem sojers, and jus' as
+him say, 'Halt,' down he go, flat on he back. Right away quick, him say,
+''Bout face,' 'cause him don't want dem sojers to laugh in he face, so
+he turn dem 'round.
+
+"When surrender come, all dem what not kilt comes home and dey have a
+big 'ception in Maxie. Dey have lots of long tables and de food am put
+on 'fore de train come in. Dere was two coaches full of de boys and dey
+doesn't wait for dat train to stop. No, suh, dey crawls out de windows.
+Well, dere am huggin' and kissin' of de homefolks, and dey all laughin'
+and cryin' at de same time, 'cause of de joy dey's feelin'. Den dey all
+sets down to de feast. Massa make de welcome talk. I done hide in de
+wagon full of hams and cakes and pies and dere a canvas over dat stuff,
+and dat how I gits to dat welcome home.
+
+"I crawls out 'fore dey unloads de wagon and 'fore long massa see me and
+him say, 'Gosh for hemlock! Boy, how comes you here?' I lets my face
+slip a li'l, 'bout half a laugh. I says, 'I rides under dat canvas.' Dat
+start him laughin' and he tells de people dat I'm a pat'otic nigger.
+After dey all eats us niggers gits to eat. For once, I gits plenty pie
+and cake.
+
+"Us never have much joyments in slave time. Only when de corn ready for
+huskin' all de neighbors comes dere and a whole big crowd am a-huskin'
+and singin'. I can't 'member dem songs, 'cause I'm not much for singin'.
+One go like dis:
+
+  "'Pull de husk, break de ear;
+  Whoa, I's got de red ear here.'
+
+"When you finds de red ear, dat 'titles you to de prize, like kissin' de
+gal or de drink of brandy or somethin'. Dey not 'nough red ears to suit
+us.
+
+"I'm thirteen year when surrender come. Massa don't call us to him like
+other massas done. Him jus' go 'mongst de folks and say, 'Well, folks,
+yous am free now and no longer my prop'ty, and yous 'titled to pay for
+work. I 'member old Jerry sings, 'Free, free as de jaybird, free to flew
+like de jaybird. Whew!'
+
+"Some de cullud folks stays and some goes. Mostest dem stays and works
+de land on shares. I stays till I'm eighteen year and den I works for a
+farmer den for a blacksmith den some carpenter work and some
+railroadin'. De fact am, I works at anything I could find to does. I
+does dat most my life.
+
+"It good for me to stay with Massa Hurt after freedom, 'cause den day
+plenty trouble in every place. Dere am fightin' 'twixt white and cullud
+folks over votin' and sich. Dey try 'lect my brudder to Congress one
+time, but he not 'lect, 'cause de white man what am runnin' 'gainst him
+gits a cullud preacher to run 'gainst dem both. Dat split de cullud
+votes and de white man am 'lect. I votes like de white man say, couple
+times, but after dat I stops votin'. It ain't right for me to vote 'less
+I knows how and why. I larns to read and den starts votin' 'gain.
+
+"After de war de Ku Klux am org'nize and dey makes de niggers plenty
+trouble. Sometimes de niggers has it comin' to 'em and lots of times dey
+am 'posed on. Dere a old, cullud man name George and he don't trouble
+nobody, but one night de white caps--dat what dey called--comes to
+George's place. Now, George know of some folks what am whupped for
+no-cause, so he prepare for dem white caps. When dey gits to he house
+George am in de loft. He tell dem he done nothin' wrong and for dem to
+go 'way, or he kill dem. Dey say he gwine have a free sample of what he
+git if he do wrong and one dem white caps starts up de ladder to git
+George and George shoot him dead. 'Nother white cap starts shootin'
+through de ceilin'. He can't see George but through de cracks George can
+see and he shoots de second feller. So dey leaves and say dey come back.
+George runs to he old massa and he takes George to de law men. Never
+nothin' am done 'bout him killin' de white caps, 'cause dem white caps
+goes 'round 'busing niggers.
+
+"I comes to Texas 'bout 40 year since and gits by purty good till de
+depression comes, den it hard for me. My age am 'gainst me, too, and
+many de time I's wish for some dat old ham and bacon on de old
+plantation.
+
+"First I marries Ann Arrant, in 1898 dat was, and us have three chillen
+but dey all dead. Us git sep'rate in 1917 and I marries Mary Durham in
+1921, and us still livin' together. Us have no chillen. Mammy have ten
+chillen but I'm de only one what am livin' now, 'cause I'm de youngest.
+
+
+
+
+420088
+
+
+[Illustration: Wash Ingram]
+
+
+     WASH INGRAM, A 93 year old Negro, was born a slave of Capt. Jim
+     Wall, of Richmond, Va. His father, Charley Wall Ingram, ran away
+     and secured work in a gold mine. Later, his mother died and Capt.
+     Wall sold Wash and his two brothers to Jim Ingram, of Carthage,
+     Texas. When Wash's father learned this, he overtook his sons before
+     they reached Texas and put himself back in bondage, so he could be
+     with his children. Wash served as water carrier for the Confederate
+     soldiers at the battle of Mansfield, La. He now lives with friends
+     on the Elysian Fields Road, seven miles southeast of Marshall,
+     Texas.
+
+
+"I don' know just how ole I is. I was 'bout 18 when de War was over. I
+was bo'n on Captain Wall's place in Richmond, Virgini'. Pappy's name was
+Charlie and mammy's name was Ca'line. I had six sisters and two brothers
+and all de sisters is dead. I haven't heard from my brothers since
+Master turn us loose, a year after de war.
+
+"Pappy say dat he and mammy was sold and traded lots of times in
+Virgini'. We always went by de name of whoever we belonged to. I first
+worked as a roustabout boy dere on Capt. Wall's place in Virgini'. He
+was sho' a big man, weighed more'n 200 pounds. He owned lots of niggers
+and worked lots of land. The white folks was good to us, but Pappy was a
+fightin' man and he run off and got a job in a gold mine in Virgini'.
+
+"After pappy run away, mammy died and den one day de overseer herded up
+a big bunch of us niggers and driv us to Barnum's Tradin' Ya'd down in
+Mississippi. Dat's a place where dey sold and traded Niggers jus' lak
+stock. I cried when Capt. Wall sold me, 'cause dat was one man dat sho'
+was good to his niggers. But he had too many slaves.
+
+"Cotton was a good price den and dem slave buyers had plenty of money.
+We was sold to Jim Ingram, of Carthage. He bought a big gang of slaves
+and refugeed part of 'em to Louisiana and part to Texas. We come to
+Texas in ox wagons. While we was on the way, camped at Keachie,
+Louisiana, a man come ridin' into camp and someone say to me, 'Wash,
+dar's your pappy.' I didn' believe it 'cause pappy was workin' in a gold
+mine in Virgini'. Some of de men told pappy his chillen is in camp and
+he come and fin' me and my brothers. Den he jine Master Ingram's slaves
+so he can be with his chillen.
+
+"Master Ingram had a big plantation down near Carthage and lots of
+niggers. He also buyed land, cleared it and sol' it. I plowed with oxen.
+We had a overseer and sev'ral taskmasters. Dey whip de niggers for not
+workin' right, or for runnin' 'way or pilferin' roun' master's house. We
+woke up at four o'clock and worked from sunup to sundown. Dey give us an
+hour for dinner. Dem dat work roun' de house et at tables with plates.
+Dem dat work in de field was drove in from work and fed jus' like hosses
+at a big, long wooden trough. Dey had to eat with a wooden spoon. De
+trough and de food was clean and always plenty of it, and we stood up to
+eat. We went to bed soon after supper durin' de week for dat's 'bout all
+we feel like doin' after workin' twelve hours. We slep' in wooden beds
+what had corded rope mattresses.
+
+"We had to learn de best way we could, 'cause dere was no schools. We
+had church out in de woods. I didn' see no money till after de
+surrender. Guess we didn' need any, 'cause dey give us food and clothes
+and tobacco. We didn' have to buy nothin'. I had broadcloth clothes, a
+blue jean overcoat and good shoes and boots.
+
+"De niggers had heap better times dan now. Now we work all time and
+can't git nothin'. Sat'day night we would have parties and dance and
+play ring plays. We had de parties dere in a big double log house. Dey
+would give us whiskey and wine and cherry brandy, but dere wasn' no
+shootin' or gamblin'. Dey didn' 'low it. De men and women didn' do like
+dey do now. If dey had such carryin's on as dey do now, de white folks
+would have whipped 'em good.
+
+"I 'member dat war and I sees dem cannons and hears 'em. I toted water
+for de soldiers what fought at de Battle of Mansfield. Master Ingram had
+350 slaves when de war was over but he didn' turn us loose till a year
+after surrender. He telled us dat de gov'ment goin' to give us 40 acres
+of land and a pair of mules, but we didn' git nothin'. After Master
+Ingram turn us loose, pappy bought a place at De Berry, Texas, and I
+live with him till after I was grown. Den I marry and move to Louisiana.
+I come back to Texas two years ago and lived with my friends here ever
+since. My wife died 18 years ago and I had a hard time 'cause I don'
+have no folks, but I's managed to git someone to let me work for
+somethin' to eat, a few clothes and a place to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+420047
+
+
+[Illustration: Carter J. Jackson]
+
+
+     CARTER J. JACKSON, 85, was born in Montgomery, Alabama, a slave of
+     Parson Dick Rogers. In 1863 the Rogers family brought Carter to
+     Texas and he worked for them as a slave until four years after
+     emancipation. Carter was with his master's son, Dick, when he was
+     killed at Pittsburg, Pa. Carter married and moved to Tatum in 1871.
+
+
+"If you's wants to know 'bout slavery time, it was Hell. I's born in
+Montgomery, over yonder in Alabama. My pappy named Charles and come from
+Florida and mammy named Charlotte and her from Tennessee. They was sold
+to Parson Rogers and brung to Alabama by him. I had seven brothers call
+Frank and Benjamin and Richardson and Anderson and Miles, Emanuel and
+Gill, and three sisters call Milanda, Evaline and Sallie, but I don't
+know if any of 'em are livin' now.
+
+"Parson Rogers come to Texas in '63 and brung 'bout 42 slaves and my
+first work was to tote water in the field. Parson lived in a good, big
+frame house, and the niggers lived in log houses what had dirt floors
+and chimneys, and our bunks had rope slats and grass mattress. I sho'
+wish I could have cotch myself sleepin' on a feather bed them days. I
+wouldn't woke up till Kingdom Come.
+
+"We et vegetables and meat and ash cake. You could knock you mammy in
+the head, eatin' that ash cake bread. I ain't been fit since. We had
+hominy cooked in the fireplace in big pots that ain't bad to talk 'bout.
+Deer was thick them days and we sot up sharp stobs inside the pea field
+and them young bucks jumps over the fence and stabs themselves. That the
+only way to cotch them, 'cause they so wild you couldn't git a fair shot
+with a rifle.
+
+"Massa Rogers had a 300 acre plantation and 200 in cultivation and he
+had a overseer and Steve O'Neal was the nigger driver. The horn to git
+up blowed 'bout four o'clock and if we didn't fall out right now, the
+overseer was in after us. He tied us up every which way and whip us, and
+at night he walk the quarters to keep us from runnin' 'round. On Sunday
+mornin' the overseer come 'round to each nigger cabin with a big sack of
+shorts and give us 'nough to make bread for one day.
+
+"I used to steal some chickens, 'cause we didn't have 'nough to eat, and
+I don' think I done wrong, 'cause the place was full of 'em. We sho'
+earned what we et. I'd go up to the big house to make fires and lots of
+times I seed the mantel board lined with greenbacks, 'tween mantel and
+wall and I's snitched many a $50.00 bill, but it 'federate money.
+
+"Me and four of her chillen standin' by when mammy's sold for $500.00.
+Cryin' didn't stop 'em from sellin' our mammy 'way from us.
+
+"I 'member the war was tough and I went 'long with young massa Dick when
+he went to the war, to wait on him. I's standin' clost by when he was
+kilt under a big tree in Pittsburg, and 'fore he die he ask Wes Tatum,
+one the neighbor boys from home, to take care of me and return me to
+Massa George.
+
+"I worked on for Massa Rogers four year after that, jus' like in slavery
+time, and one day he call us and say we can go or stay. So I goes with
+my pappy and lives with him till 1871. Then I marries and works on the
+railroad when it's builded from Longview to Big Sandy, 'bout 1872. I
+works there sev'ral years and I raises seven chillen. After I quits the
+railroad I works wherever I can, on farms or in town.
+
+
+
+
+420092
+
+
+[Illustration: James Jackson]
+
+
+     JAMES JACKSON, 87, was born a slave to the Alexander family, in
+     Caddo Parish, La. When he was about two, his master moved to Travis
+     County, Texas. A short time later he and his two brothers were
+     stolen and sold to Dr. Duvall, in Bastrop Co., Texas. He worked
+     around Austin till he married, when he moved to Taylor and then to
+     Kaufman. In 1929 he went to Fort Worth where he has lived ever
+     since.
+
+
+"I was bo'n at Caddo Parish, dats in Louisiana, on de Doc Alexander
+plantation. My mother says I was bo'n on de 18th day of December, in de
+year of 1850. I guess dat's right, 'cause I's 87 years ole dis comin'
+December.
+
+"Jus' 'bout dat time dey started shippin' de darkies to Texas. My
+marster moved to Travis County, Texas, and tuk all his slaves wid him. I
+was too young to 'member, but my mother, she told me 'bout it.
+
+"It wasn' long after we was on Marster Alexander's new place in Travis
+County, till one night a man rode up on a hoss and stole me and my two
+brothers and rode away wid us. He tuk us to Bastrop County and sold us
+to Doc Duvall. Marster Duvall sold my brother right after he bought us,
+but me and John, we stayed wid him till de slaves was freed.
+
+"On Marster Duvall's plantation de slaves all lived in log cabins back
+of de big house. Dey was one room, two rooms and three room cabins,
+dependin' on de size of de family. Most had dirt floors, but some of 'em
+had log slabs. We had dese ole wooden beds wid a rope stretch 'cross de
+bottom and a mattress of straw or cotton dat de niggers got in de fiel'.
+We had lots to eat, like biscuit, cornbread, meat and sich stuff. Most
+times dey made coffee outta parch cornmeal. We had gardens and raised
+most of de stuff to eat.
+
+"I herds sheep and is houseboy most of de time. When I was ole enough, I
+picks cotton. I was jus' learnin' when de slaves was freed. Marster
+Duvall had over 500 acres in cotton and he kep' us in de fiel' all de
+time, 'cept Saturday afternoon and Sunday.
+
+"Dey had meetin' and dances Saturday nights. I was too young to 'member
+jus' what de songs was, but dey had a fiddle and played all night long.
+On ever' Sunday de niggers went to Church in de evenin'. Dey had a white
+preacher in de mornin' and a cullud preacher in de evenin'.
+
+"Marster Duvall would whip de niggers who was disobedience and he jus'
+call dem up and ask dem what was de trouble, den he would whip dem wid a
+cowhide or a rope whip. We could go anywhere iffen we had a pass, but if
+we didn' de paddlerollers would ketch us. They was kinda like policemen
+we got today.
+
+"In slavery, dey traded and sold niggers like dey do hosses and mules.
+Dey carry dem to de court house and put dem on de block and auction 'em
+off. Some sold for roun' $3,000. It was hard to sell one wid scars on
+him, 'cause nobody wanted him. I seen 'em come by in droves, all chained
+together.
+
+"When de slaves was free dey was sho' happy. Dey all got together and
+had a kin' of cel'bration. Marster told dem if dey wanted to stay and
+help make de crop, he'd give 'em 50 cents a day and a place to stay.
+Some tuk him up on dat and stayed, but a lot of dem left dere. Me and my
+brother, we started walkin' to Austin. In Austin we finds our mother,
+she was working for Judge Paschal. She hires us out to one place and den
+another.
+
+"Since freedom I done most everything anybody could do. I been porter
+and waiter in hotels and rest'rants. I been factory hand, and worked for
+carpenters and in de roun' house. I picked cotton and worked on de farm.
+
+"I been married 61 years. I gits married at home, like civilize folks
+do. I raised a big family, 12 chillen, but only five is alive today. I
+moved here in 1929 and looks like I's here till I die.
+
+
+
+
+420188
+
+
+     MAGGIE JACKSON was born a slave of the Sam Oliver family, in Cass
+     Co., Texas, near Douglasville. She is about 80 years old and her
+     memory is not very good, so her story gives few details. She lives
+     with her daughter near Douglasville, on highway #8.
+
+
+"I am about 80 years old and was a chile during slavery times. My papa's
+name was Tom Spencer Hall and my mama's name was Margaret Hall. My
+brothers and sisters was Maria and Barbara and Alice and Octavia and
+Andrew and Thomas and Hillary and Eugenia and Silas and Thomas. We was a
+big fam'ly.
+
+"My mama was Sam Oliver's slave, but my papa lived a mile away with
+Masta Sam Carlow. We lived in box houses and slep' on wood beds and we
+et co'nbread and peas and grits and lots of rabbits and 'possums. Mama
+cooked it on the fireplace.
+
+"Masta Sam's house was big and had six big rooms with a hall through the
+middle and the kitchen sot way off in the ya'd and had a big cellar
+under it. Masta Sam had a big orchard and put apples and pears in the
+cellar for the winter. My brothers use' to slip under there and steal
+them and mama'd whip 'em.
+
+"The big house set 'mong big oak trees and the slaves houses was
+scattered roun' the back. Masta Sam had a ole cowhorn he use' to blow
+for the niggers to come outta the fiel'.
+
+"Mos' all us chillen wen' fishin' on Saturday and we'd fish with pins.
+One day I slipped off and caught a whole string of fish.
+
+"We learned to read and write and we wen' to church with the white
+folks. Masta Sam was good to us and gave us plenty food and clothes.
+
+"I never was 'fraid of haints and I never see none, but I know some seen
+'em.
+
+"I married John Jackson in a white muslin dress and we was married by
+Dan Sherman, a cullud preacher from Jefferson. I married John 'cause I
+loved him and we didn' fuss and fight. I has five chillen and five
+grandchillen.
+
+
+
+
+420083
+
+
+[Illustration: Martin Jackson (A)]
+
+[Illustration: Martin Jackson (B)]
+
+
+     MARTIN JACKSON, who calls himself a "black Texan", well deserves to
+     select a title of more distinction, for it is quite possible that
+     he is the only living former slave who served in both the Civil War
+     and the World War. He was born in bondage in Victoria Co., Texas,
+     in 1847, the property of Alvy Fitzpatrick. This self-respecting
+     Negro is totally blind, and when a person touches him on the arm to
+     guide him he becomes bewildered and asks his helper to give verbal
+     directions, up, down, right or left. It may be he has been on his
+     own so long that he cannot, at this late date, readjust himself to
+     the touch of a helping hand. His mind is uncommonly clear and he
+     speaks with no Negro colloquialisms and almost no dialect.
+
+
+Following directions as to where to find Martin Jackson, "the most
+remarkable Negro in San Antonio," a researcher made his way to an old
+frame house at 419 Center St., walked up the steps and through the house
+to an open door of a rear room. There, on an iron bed, lay a long, thin
+Negro, smoking a cigarette. He was dressed in a woolen undershirt and
+black trousers and his beard and mustache were trimmed much after the
+fashion of white gallants of the Gay Nineties. His head was remarkably
+well-shaped, with striking eminences in his forehead over his brows.
+
+After a moment the intruder spoke and announced his mission. The old
+Negro, who is stone blind, quickly admitted that he was Martin Jackson,
+but before making any further comment he carried on an efficient
+interview himself; he wanted to know who the caller was, who had
+directed the visit, and just what branch of the Federal service happened
+to be interested in the days of slavery. These questions satisfactorily
+answered, he went into his adventures and experiences, embellishing the
+highlights with uncommon discernment and very little prodding by the
+researcher.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I have about 85 years of good memory to call on. I'm ninety, and so I'm
+not counting my first five years of life. I'll try to give you as clear
+a picture as I can. If you want to give me a copy of what you are going
+to write, I'll appreciate it. Maybe some of my children would like to
+have it.
+
+"I was here in Texas when the Civil War was first talked about. I was
+here when the War started and followed my young master into it with the
+First Texas Cavalry. I was here during reconstruction, after the War. I
+was here during the European World War and the second week after the
+United States declared war on Germany I enlisted as cook at Camp Leon
+Springs.
+
+"This sounds as if I liked the war racket. But, as a matter of fact, I
+never wore a uniform--grey coat or khaki coat--or carried a gun, unless
+it happened to be one worth saving after some Confederate soldier got
+shot. I was official lugger-in of men that got wounded, and might have
+been called a Red Cross worker if we had had such a corps connected with
+our company. My father was head cook for the battalion and between times
+I helped him out with the mess. There was some difference in the food
+served to soldiers in 1861 and 1917!
+
+"Just what my feelings was about the War, I have never been able to
+figure out myself. I knew the Yanks were going to win, from the
+beginning. I wanted them to win and lick us Southerners, but I hoped
+they was going to do it without wiping out our company. I'll come back
+to that in a minute. As I said, our company was the First Texas Cavalry.
+Col. Buchell was our commander. He was a full-blooded German and as fine
+a man and a soldier as you ever saw. He was killed at the Battle of
+Marshall and died in my arms. You may also be interested to know that my
+old master, Alvy Fitzpatrick, was the grandfather of Governor Jim
+Ferguson.
+
+"Lots of old slaves closes the door before they tell the truth about
+their days of slavery. When the door is open, they tell how kind their
+masters was and how rosy it all was. You can't blame them for this,
+because they had plenty of early discipline, making them cautious about
+saying anything uncomplimentary about their masters. I, myself, was in a
+little different position than most slaves and, as a consequence, have
+no grudges or resentment. However, I can tell you the life of the
+average slave was not rosy. They were dealt out plenty of cruel
+suffering.
+
+"Even with my good treatment, I spent most of my time planning and
+thinking of running away. I could have done it easy, but my old father
+used to say, 'No use running from bad to worse, hunting better.' Lots of
+colored boys did escape and joined the Union army, and there are plenty
+of them drawing a pension today. My father was always counseling me. He
+said, 'Every man has to serve God under his own vine and fig tree.' He
+kept pointing out that the War wasn't going to last forever, but that
+our forever was going to be spent living among the Southeners, after
+they got licked. He'd cite examples of how the whites would stand
+flatfooted and fight for the blacks the same as for members of their own
+family. I knew that all was true, but still I rebelled, from inside of
+me. I think I really was afraid to run away, because I thought my
+conscience would haunt me. My father knew I felt this way and he'd rub
+my fears in deeper. One of his remarks still rings in my ears: 'A clear
+conscience opens bowels, and when you have a guilty soul it ties you up
+and death will not for long desert you.'
+
+"No, sir, I haven't had any education. I should have had one, though. My
+old missus was sorry, after the War, that she didn't teach me. Her name,
+before she married my old master, was Mrs. Long. She lived in New York
+City and had three sons. When my old master's wife died, he wrote up to
+a friend of his in New York, a very prominent merchant named C.C.
+Stewart. He told this friend he wanted a wife and gave him
+specifications for one. Well, Mrs. Long, whose husband had died, fitted
+the bill and she was sent down to Texas. She became Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
+She wasn't the grandmother of Governor Ferguson. Old Fitzpatrick had two
+wives that preceded Mrs. Long. One of the wives had a daughter named
+Fanny Fitzpatrick and it was her that was the Texas' governor's mother.
+I seem to have the complicated family tree of my old master more clear
+than I've got my own, although mine can be put in a nutshell: I married
+only once and was blessed in it with 45 years of devotion. I had 13
+children and a big crop of grandchildren.
+
+"My earliest recollection is the day my old boss presented me to his
+son, Joe, as his property. I was about five years old and my new master
+was only two.
+
+"It was in the Battle of Marshall, in Louisiana, that Col. Buchell got
+shot. I was about three miles from the front, where I had pitched up a
+kind of first-aid station. I was all alone there. I watched the whole
+thing. I could hear the shooting and see the firing. I remember standing
+there and thinking the South didn't have a chance. All of a sudden I
+heard someone call. It was a soldier, who was half carrying Col. Buchell
+in. I didn't do nothing for the Colonel. He was too far gone. I just
+held him comfortable, and that was the position he was in when he
+stopped breathing. That was the worst hurt I got when anybody died. He
+was a friend of mine. He had had a lot of soldiering before and fought
+in the Indian War.
+
+"Well, the Battle of Marshall broke the back of the Texas Cavalry. We
+began straggling back towards New Orleans, and by that time the War was
+over. The soldiers began to scatter. They was a sorry-lookin' bunch of
+lost sheep. They didn't know where to go, but most of 'em ended up
+pretty close to the towns they started from. They was like homing
+pigeons, with only the instinct to go home and, yet, most of them had no
+homes to go to.
+
+"No, sir, I never went into books. I used to handle a big dictionary
+three times a day, but it was only to put it on a chair so my young
+master could sit up higher at the table. I never went to school. I
+learned to talk pretty good by associating with my masters in their big
+house.
+
+"We lived on a ranch of about 1,000 acres close to the Jackson County
+line in Victoria County, about 125 miles from San Antonio. Just before
+the war ended they sold the ranch, slaves and all, and the family, not
+away fighting, moved to Galveston. Of course, my father and me wasn't
+sold with the other blacks, because we was away at war. My mother was
+drowned years before when I was a little boy. I only remember her after
+she was dead. I can take you to the spot in the river today where she
+was drowned. She drowned herself. I never knew the reason behind it, but
+it was said she started to lose her mind and preferred death to that."
+
+At this point in the old Negro's narrative the sound of someone singing
+was heard. A moment later the door to the house slammed shut and in
+accompaniment to the tread of feet in the kitchen came this song:
+
+  "I sing because I'm happy,
+  And I sing because I'm free--
+  His eyes is on the sparrow
+  And I know He watches me."
+
+The singer glanced in the bedroom and the song ended with both
+embarrassment and anger:
+
+  "Father! Why didn't you say you had callers?"
+
+It was not long, however, before the singer, Mrs. Maggie Jackson,
+daughter-in-law of old Martin Jackson, joined in the conversation.
+
+"The master's name was usually adopted by a slave after he was set free.
+This was done more because it was the logical thing to do and the
+easiest way to be identified than it was through affection for the
+master. Also, the government seemed to be in a almighty hurry to have us
+get names. We had to register as someone, so we could be citizens. Well,
+I got to thinking about all us slaves that was going to take the name
+Fitzpatrick. I made up my mind I'd find me a different one. One of my
+grandfathers in Africa was called Jeaceo, and so I decided to be
+Jackson."
+
+After this clear-headed Negro had posed for his photograph, the
+researcher took his leave and the old blind man bade him a gracious
+"good-bye." He stood as if watching his new friend walking away, and
+then lighted a cigarette.
+
+"How long have you been smoking, Martin?" called back the researcher.
+
+"I picked up the deadly habit," answered Martin, "over seventy-five
+years ago."
+
+
+
+
+420137
+
+
+     NANCY JACKSON, about 105 years old, was born in Madison Co.,
+     Tennessee, a slave of the Griff Lacy family. She was married during
+     slavery and was the mother of three children when she was freed. In
+     1835, Nancy claims, she was brought to Texas by her owner, and has
+     lived in Panola Co. all her life. She has no proof of her age and,
+     of course, may be in the late nineties instead of over one hundred,
+     as she thinks. She lives with her daughter about five miles west of
+     Tatum, Tex.
+
+
+"I's live in Panola County now going on 102 year and that a mighty long
+time for to 'member back, but I'll try to rec'lect. I's born in
+Tennessee and I think it's in 1830 or 1832. I lives with my baby chile
+what am now 57 year old and she's born when I's 'bout 'bout 33. But I
+ain't sho' 'bout my age, noways.
+
+"Massa Griff fetches us to Texas when I a baby and my brudders what am
+Redic and Anthony and Essex and Allen and Brick and my sisters what am
+Ann and Matty and Charlotte, we all come to Texas. Mammy come with us
+but pappy was sold off the Lacy place and stays in Tennessee.
+
+"Massa had the bigges' house in them parts and a passel of slaves.
+Mammy's name was Letha, and we have a purty good place to live and massa
+not bad to us. We was treated fair, I guesses, but they allus whipped us
+niggers for somethin'. But when we got sick they'd git the doctor,
+'cause losin' a nigger like losin' a pile of money in them days.
+
+"Massa sometimes outlines the Bible to us and we had a song what we'd
+sing sometimes:
+
+  "'Stand your storm, Stand your storm,
+  Till the wind blows over,
+  Stand your storm, Stand your storm,
+  I's a sojer of the Cross,
+  A follower of the Lamb.'
+
+"We was woke by a bell and called to eat by a bell and put to bed by
+that bell and if that bell ring outta time you'd see the niggers jumpin'
+rail fences and cotton rows like deers or something, gettin' to that
+house, 'cause that mean something bad wrong at massa's house.
+
+"I marries right here in Panola County while slavery still here and my
+brother-in-law marries me and Lewis Blakely, and I's 'bout nineteen. My
+husban' 'longed to the Blakely's and after the weddin' he had to go back
+to them and they 'lowed him come to see me once a week on Saturday and
+he could stay till Sunday. I works on for the Lacy's more'n a year after
+slavery till Lewis come got me and we moved to ourselves.
+
+"I 'member one big time we done have in slavery. Massa gone and he
+wasn't gone. He left the house 'tendin' go on a visit and missy and her
+chillen gone and us niggers give a big ball the night they all gone. The
+leader of that ball had on massa's boots and he sing a song he make up:
+
+  "'Ole massa's gone to Philiman York
+  And won't be back till July 4th to come;
+  Fac' is, I don't know he'll be back at all,
+  Come on all you niggers and jine this ball.'
+
+"That night they done give that big ball, massa had blacked up and slip
+back in the house and while they singin' and dancin', he sittin' by the
+fireplace all the time. 'Rectly he spit, and the nigger who had on he
+boots recernizes him and tries climb up the chimmey."
+
+
+
+
+420259
+
+
+[Illustration: Richard Jackson]
+
+
+     RICHARD JACKSON, Harrison County farmer, was born in 1859, a slave
+     of Watt Rosborough. Richard's family left the Rosboroughs when the
+     Negroes were freed, and moved to a farm near Woodlawn. Richard
+     married when he was twenty-five and moved to an adjoining farm,
+     which he now owns.
+
+
+"I was born on the Rosborough plantation in 1859 and 'longed to old man
+Watt Rosborough. He brung my mammy out of North Carolina, but my pappy
+died when I was a baby, and mammy married Will Jackson. Besides me they
+was six brothers, Jack and Nathan, Josh and Bill and Ben and Mose. I had
+three sisters named Matilda and Charity and Anna.
+
+"I 'members my mammy's father, Jack, but don't know where he come from.
+I heared him tell of fightin' the Indians on the frontier, and one
+mammy's brothers was shot with a Indian arrow.
+
+"The plantation jined the Sabine river and old man Watt owned many a
+slave. The old home is still standin' cross the road from Rosborough
+Springs, nine miles south of Marshall.
+
+"They was a white overseer on the place and mammy's stepdaddy, Kit, was
+niggerdriver and done all the whippin', 'cept of mammy. She was bad
+'bout fightin' and the overseer allus tended to her. One day he come to
+the quarters to whip her and she up and throwed a shovel full of live
+coals from the fireplace in his bosom and run out the door. He run her
+all over the place 'fore he cotched her. I seed the overseer tie her
+down and whip her. The niggers wasn't whipped much 'cept for fightin'
+'mongst themselves.
+
+"I 'members mammy allus sayin' the darkies had to pray out in the woods,
+'cause they ain't 'lowed to make no fuss round the house. She say they
+was fed and clothed well 'nough, but the overseer worked the lights out
+of the darkies. I wasn't big 'nough to do field work, but 'member goin'
+to the field to take mammy's pipe to her. They wasn't no matches in them
+days, and I allus took fire from the house and sot a stump afire in the
+field, so mammy could light her pipe.
+
+"None of our folks larnt to read and write till after slavery. My oldes'
+brother was larnin' to read on the sly, but the overseer found out 'bout
+it and stopped him. He found some letters writ on the wall of the
+quarter with charcoal and made the darkies tell him who writ it. My
+brother Jack done it. The overseer didn't whip him, but told him he
+darns't do it 'gain.
+
+"After surrender my folks left the Rosboroughs right straight and moved
+clost to Woodlawn. My oldes' hired out in Shreveport. When they asks him
+what he's worth, he told them he didn't know, but he was allus worth a
+heap of money when anyone wanted to buy him from the Rosboroughs.
+
+"The Ku Kluxers come to our house in Woodlawn, and I got scart and
+crawled under the bed. They told mammy they wasn't gwine hurt her, but
+jus' wanted water to drink. They didn't call each other by names. When
+the head man spoke to any of them he'd say, Number 1, or Number 2, and
+like that.
+
+"I thunk I heared ghosts on the Driscoll place once, up in the loft of
+the house. I heared them plain as day. My step-pa done die there and
+might of been his ghost. We moved away right straight, and old man
+Driscoll had to burn that house down after that, 'cause wouldn't none
+the darkies live in it.
+
+"The only time I voted was when they put whiskey out. I heared a white
+man one time in Marshall, makin' a speech on the square. He said he was
+gwine tell us darkies why they didn't low us to vote. He didn't tell us,
+'cause the law come out and made him git out the wagon and leave.
+
+"This young race is sho' livin' fast, but I guess they's all right.
+Things is jes' different now to when I was a boy. When I was a boy,
+folks didn't mind helpin' one 'nother, but now they is in too big a
+hurry to pay you any mind.
+
+
+
+
+420016
+
+
+[Illustration: John James]
+
+
+     JOHN JAMES, 78, was born a slave to John Chapman, on a large
+     plantation in East Baton Rouge Parish, Louisiana. John took the
+     name of his father, who was owned by John James. John and his
+     mother stayed with Mr. Chapman for six years after they were freed,
+     then John went to Missouri, where he worked for the M. K. & T.
+     Railroad for twenty years. He then came to Texas, and now lives at
+     315 S. Jennings Ave., in Fort Worth.
+
+
+"I doesn't have so much mind for slavery days, 'cause I's too young
+then, but I 'members when surrender come and some befo' dat. I 'members
+my mammy lef' me in de nursery with all de other cullud babies when she
+go work in de field. De old nurse, Jane, tooks care of us.
+
+"Dat were de big place what Massa John have and dere 'bout fifty cullud
+families on de place, so it am more'n a hunerd slaves what he own. I's
+runnin' round, like kids am allus doin', first one place, den t'other,
+watchin' everything. De big bell ring in de mornin' and you'd see all de
+cullud folks comin' from dey cabins, gwineter de kitchen to breakfast.
+Dat allus befo' daybreak, and dey have to eat by de light of de pine
+torch. It am de pineknot torch. De meals am all cooked dere and dey eat
+at long tables. De young'uns from six to ten year eats at de second
+table and little'r den dat, in de nursery.
+
+"I sho' 'members 'bout dat nursery feedin'. I never forgits how dat
+cornmeal mush and milk am served in de big pans. Dey gives we uns de
+wooden spoon and we'uns crowds round de pans like little pigs. I can see
+it now. Us push and shove and de nurse walk here and dere, tryin' to
+make us eat like humans. She have to cuff one of us once in a while. If
+she don't, dem kids be in de pans with both feet. When dey done eatin',
+dey faces am all smear with mush and milk.
+
+"Massa allus feed plenty rations, only after war starts de old folks say
+dey am short of dis and dat, 'cause dem sojers done took it for de army.
+
+"After breakfast I'd see a crew go here and a crew go dere. Some of 'em
+spin and weave and make clothes, and some tan de leather or do de
+blacksmith work, and mos' of 'em go out in de field to work. Dey works
+till dark and den come home and work round de quarters.
+
+"Dem quarters was 'bout ten by fifteen feet, each one, with a hole for
+de window dat am not dere and de floor am de ground, and de straw bunks
+for to sleep on. In us cabin am mammy and us three chillen and our aunt.
+My pappy done die befo' I 'member him. Some kind stomach mis'ry kilt
+him.
+
+"One day Massa Chapman call all us to de front gallery. Us didn't know
+what gwine to happen, 'cause it not ord'nary to git called from de work.
+Him ring de bell and dat am sho' 'nough de liberty bell, 'cause him read
+from de long paper and say, 'You is slaves no more. You is free, jus'
+like I is, and have to 'pend on yourselves for de livin'. All what wants
+to stay I'll pay money to work, and a share of de crop, iffen you don't
+want money.' Mostest of dem stays, and some what goes gits into
+troublement, 'cause den dere's trouble 'twixt de white folks and de
+cullud folks. Some de niggers thinks they am bigger dan de white folks,
+'cause dey free, and de Klu Klux, what us call white caps, puts dem in
+de place dey 'longs.
+
+"I gits chased by dem white caps once, jus' befo' us leave massa. Dat
+am when I's 'bout thirteen year old. I's 'bout a mile off de place
+without de pass and it am de rule them days, all cullud folks must have
+de pass to show where dey 'longs and where dey gwine. I has no business
+to be off de place without de pass. 'Twas a gal.. Sho', day am it. Us
+walks down de road 'bout a mile and am settin' 'hind some bushes, off de
+plantation. Us see dem white caps comin' down de road on hossback and us
+ain't much scart, 'cause us think dey can't see us 'hind dem bushes. But
+dat leader say, 'Whoa,' and dey could look down on us, 'cause dey on
+hossback. Well, gosh for 'mighty! Dere us am and can't move den us so
+scart. One dem white caps says, 'What you doin', nigger?' 'Jus' settin'
+here,' I telt him. 'Yous better start runnin', 'cause us gwine try cotch
+you,' dey says.
+
+"Us two niggers am down dat road befo' dem words am outten he mouth. Dey
+lets de hosses canter 'hind we'uns and us try to run faster. Fin'ly us
+gits home and dat de last time I goes off without de pass.
+
+"Mammy moves to Baton Rouge soon after dat and works as de housemaid. Us
+stay dere two year and I gits some little jobs and den I goes to work
+for de railroad in Sedalia, up in Missouri, and dere I works as section
+hand for de Katy railroad for twenty year. Den I gits through and comes
+to Texas.
+
+"I works at anything till eight year ago and den I's no count for work
+so I's livin' on de pension, what am $15.00 de month.
+
+"I's never married. I jus' couldn't make de hitch. Dem what I wants,
+don't want me. Dem what wants me, I don't want, so dere am never no
+agreement.
+
+"No, I's never voted, 'cause I done heared 'bout de trouble dey has over
+in Baton Rouge 'bout niggers votin'. I jus' don't like trouble, and for
+de few years what am left, I's gwine keep de record of stayin' 'way from
+it.
+
+
+
+
+420190
+
+
+     THOMAS JOHNS, 508 Knopp St., Cleburne, Texas, was born April 18,
+     1847, in Chambers Co., Alabama. He belonged to Col. Robert Johns,
+     who had come to Alabama from Virginia. After Johns was freed he
+     stayed with his old owner's family until 1874, when he moved to
+     Texas.
+
+
+"My father's name was George and my mother's name was Nellie. My father
+was born in Africa. Him and two of his brothers and one sister was stole
+and brought to Savannah, Georgia, and sold. Dey was de chillen of a
+chief of de Kiochi tribe. De way dey was stole, dey was asked to a dance
+on a ship which some white man had, and my aunt said it was early in de
+mornin' when dey foun' dey was away from de land, and all dey could see
+was de water all 'round. She said they was members of de file-tooth
+tribe of niggers. My father's teeth was so dat only de front ones met
+together when he closed his mouth. De back ones didn' set together. W'en
+his front teeth was together, de back ones was apart, sorta like a V on
+its side.
+
+"My mother was born a slave in Virginia. She married there and had a
+little girl, and they was sold away from the husband and brought to
+Alabama. She said her mother was part Indian and part nigger. Her father
+was part white and part nigger, but he look about as white as a white
+man.
+
+"My brother's names was John, Jake and Dave. My sister's names was Ann,
+Katie, Judie and Easter.
+
+"I belonged to Col. Robert Johns. He owned 30 or 35 slaves. We was well
+treated and had the same food the white folks did, and didn' none of us
+go hongry. Col. Johns didn' have his niggers whipped, neither.
+
+"Marster's place had 500 acres in it. We raised cotton, corn and rice,
+vegetables and every sort of fruit that would grow there, a lot of it
+growin' wild. We et mostly hog meat, but we had some beef and mutton,
+too. When we'd kill a beef, we'd send some to all the neighbors.
+
+"We done a good day's work, but didn' have to work after night 'less it
+was necessary. We was allowed to stop at 12 o'clock and have time for
+rest 'fore goin' back to work. Other slave owners roun' our place wasn't
+as good to dere slaves, would work 'em hard and half starve 'em. And
+some marsters or overseers would whip dere niggers pretty hard,
+sometimes whip 'em to death. Marster Johns didn' have no overseer. He
+seed to the work and my father was foreman. For awhile after old Marster
+died, in 1862 or 1863, I forget which now, we had a overseer, John
+Sewell. He was mean. He whipped the chillen and my mother told Miss
+Lucy, old marster's oldest girl.
+
+"We was allus well treated by old marster. We was called, 'John's free
+niggers,' not dat we was free, but 'cause we was well treated. Jesse
+Todd, his place joined ours, had 500 slaves, and he treated 'em mighty
+bad. He whipped some of 'em to death. A man sold him two big niggers
+which was brothers and they was so near white you couldn' hardly tell
+'em from a white man. Some people thought the man what sold 'em was
+their daddy. The two niggers worked good and dey hadn' never been
+whipped and dey wouldn' stand for bein' whipped. One mornin' Todd come
+up to 'em and told de oldest to take his shirt off. He say, 'Marster,
+what you wan' me to take my shirt off for?' Todd say, 'I told you to
+take your shirt off.' De nigger say, 'Marster, I ain' never took my
+shirt off for no man.' Todd run in de house and got his gun and come
+back and shot de nigger dead. His brother fell down by him where he lay
+on de groun'. Todd run back to load his gun again, it bein' a single
+shot. Todd's wife and son grabbed him and dey had all dey coul' do to
+keep him from comin' out and killin' de other nigger.
+
+"Marse Johns had 12 chillen. De house dey lived in was Colonyal style
+and had 12 rooms. I was bo'n in dat house.
+
+"De slaves had log cabins. We wore some cotton clothes in de summer but
+in de winter we wore wool clothes. We allus had shoes. A shoemaker would
+come 'round once a year and stay maybe 30 days, makin' shoes for
+everybody on de place; den in about 6 months he would come back and
+half-sole and make other repairs to de shoes. We made all our clothes on
+de place. We wove light wool cloth for summer and heavy for winter.
+
+"I could take raw cotton and card and spin it on a spinnin' wheel into
+thread, fine enough to be sewed with a needle. We woun' de thread on a
+broche, make like and 'bout de size of a ice pick. De thread was den
+woun' on a reel 'bout de size of a forewheel of a wagon, and de reel
+would turn 48 times and den 'cluck'. Dat was for dem to be able to tell
+we was workin'.
+
+"Dere was plenty wild game, possums, rabbits, turkey and so on. Dere was
+fish, too, in de creek. I was de leader of de bunch. We would ketch
+little fish in de creek. We'd cook a lot of fish and den we'd put a rag
+rug in de yard under a big mulberry tree and pour de fish out on dat and
+den eat 'em.
+
+"Old marster never beat his slaves and he didn' sell 'em. But some of de
+owners did. If a owner had a big woman slave and she had a little man
+for her husban' and de owner had a big man slave, dey would make de
+little husban' leave, and make de woman let de big man be her husban',
+so's dere be big chillen, which dey could sell well. If de man and woman
+refused, dey'd get whipped.
+
+"Course whippin' made a slave hard to sell, maybe couldn' be sold,
+'cause when a man went to buy a slave he would make him strip naked and
+look him over for whip marks and other blemish, jus' like dey would a
+horse. But even if it done damage to de sale to whip him, dey done it,
+'cause dey figgered, kill a nigger, breed another--kill a mule, buy
+another.
+
+"I'll never forget de rice patch. It shore got me some whippin's, 'cause
+my daddy tell me to watch de birds 'way from dat rice, and sometimes
+dey'd get to it. It jus' seem like de blackbirds jus' set 'round and
+watched for dat rice to grow up where dey could get it. We would cut a
+block off a pine tree and build a fire on it and burn it out. Den we
+would cut down into it and scrape out all de char, and den put de rice
+in dere and beat and poun' it with a pestle till we had all de grain
+beat out de heads. Den we'd pour de rice out on a cloth and de chaff and
+trash would blow away.
+
+"Our marster he drilled men for de army. De drill groun' was 'bout a
+mile from our place. He was a dead shot with a rifle and had a rifle
+with an extry long barrel.
+
+"De Yankees told us niggers when dey freed us after de war dat dey would
+give each one of us 40 acres of land and a mule. De nearest I'se ever
+come to dat is de pension of 'leven dollars I gets now. But I'se jus' as
+thankful for dat as I can be. In fac', I don't see how I could be any
+more thankful it 'twas a hun'erd and 'leven dollars.
+
+"A man told me a nigger woman told his wife she would ruther be slave
+than free. Well, I think, but I might be wrong, anybody which says that
+is tellin a lie. Dere is sumpin' 'bout bein' free and dat makes up for
+all de hardships. I'se been both slave and free and I knows. Course,
+while I was slave I didn' have no 'sponsibility, didn' have to worry
+'bout where sumpin' to eat and wear and a place to sleep was comin'
+from, but dat don't make up for bein' free.
+
+
+
+
+420191
+
+
+     AUNTIE THOMAS JOHNS, 508 Knopp St., Cleburne, Texas, was born in
+     Burleson Co., Texas, in 1864. She was only two when her mother was
+     freed, so knows nothing of slavery except stories her mother told
+     her, or that she heard her husband, Thomas Johns, tell.
+
+
+"I was two years old when my mama was set free. Her owner was Major
+Odom. He was good to his niggers, my mama said. She tol' me 'bout
+slavery times. She said other white folks roun' there called Major
+Odom's niggers, 'Odom's damn free niggers,' 'cause he was so easy on
+'em.
+
+"He was never married, but he had a nigger woman, Aunt Phyllis she was
+called, that he had some children by. She was half white. I remember her
+and him and five of their sons. The ones I knowed was nearly all white,
+but Aunt Phyllis had one boy that was nigger black. His daddy was a
+nigger man. When she was drunk or mad she'd say she thought more of her
+black chile than all the others. Major Odom treated their children jus'
+like he treated the other niggers. He never whipped none of his niggers.
+When his and Aunt Phyllis'es sons was grown they went to live in the
+quarters, which was what the place the niggers lived was called.
+
+"One of Major Odom's niggers was whipped by a man named Steve Owens. He
+got to goin' to see a nigger woman Owens owned, and one night they beat
+him up bad. Major Odom put on his gun for Owens, and they carried guns
+for each other till they died, but they never did have a shootin'.
+
+"Colonel Sims had a farm joinin' Major Odom's farm, and his niggers was
+treated mean. He had a overseer, J.B. Mullinax, I 'member him, and he
+was big and tough. He whipped a nigger man to death. He would come out
+of a mornin' and give a long, keen yell, and say, 'I'm J.B. Mullinax,
+just back from a week in Hell, where I got two new eyes, one named Snap
+and Jack, and t'other Take Hold. I'm goin' to whip two or three niggers
+to death today.' He lived a long time, but long 'fore he died his eyes
+turned backward in his head. I seen 'em thataway. He wouldn' give his
+niggers much to eat and he'd make 'em work all day, and just give 'em
+boiled peas with just water and no salt and cornbread. They'd eat their
+lunch right out in the hot sun and then go right back to work. Mama said
+she could hear them niggers bein' whipped at night and yellin', 'Pray,
+marster, pray,' beggin' him not to beat 'em.
+
+"Other niggers would run away and come to Major Odom's place and ask his
+niggers for sumpin' to eat. My mama would get word to bring 'em food and
+she'd start out to where they was hidin' and she'd hear the hounds, and
+the runaway niggers would have to go on without gettin' nothin' to eat.
+
+"My husban's tol' me about slavery times in Alabama. He said they would
+make the niggers work hard all day pickin' cotton and then take it to
+the gin and gin away into the night, maybe all night. They'd give a
+nigger on Sunday a peck of meal and three pounds of meat and no salt nor
+nothin' else, and if you et that up 'fore the week was out, you jus'
+done without anything to eat till the end of the week.
+
+"My husban' said a family named Gullendin was mighty hard on their
+niggers. He said ole Missus Gullendin, she'd take a needle and stick it
+through one of the nigger women's lower lips and pin it to the bosom of
+her dress, and the woman would go 'round all day with her head drew down
+thataway and slobberin'. There was knots on the nigger's lip where the
+needle had been stuck in it.
+
+
+
+
+420911
+
+
+[Illustration: Gus Johnson]
+
+
+     GUS JOHNSON, 90 years or more, was born a slave of Mrs. Betty
+     Glover, in Marengo Co., Alabama. Most of his memories are of his
+     later boyhood in Sunnyside, Texas. He lives in an unkempt, little
+     lean-to house, in the north end of Beaumont, Texas. There is no
+     furniture but a broken-down bed and an equally dilapidated trunk
+     and stove. Gus spends most of his time in the yard, working in his
+     vegetable garden.
+
+
+"Dey brung thirty-six of us here in a box car from Alabama. Yes, suh,
+dat's where I come from--Marengo County, not so far from 'Mopolis. Us
+belong to old missy Betty Glover and my daddy name August Glover and my
+mammy Lucinda. Old missy, she sho' treat us good and I never git whip
+for anything 'cept lyin'. Old missy, she do de whippin'.
+
+"Old missy she sho' a good woman and all her white folks, dey used to go
+to church at White Chapel at 'leven in de mornin'. Us cullud folks goes
+in de evenin'. Us never do no work on Sunday, and on Saturday after
+twelve o'clock us can go fishin' or huntin'.
+
+"Dey give de rations on Saturday and dat's 'bout five pound salt bacon
+and a peck of meal and some sorghum syrup. Dey make dat syrup on de
+plantation. Dey's ten or twelve big clay kettles in a row, sot in de
+furnace.
+
+"We have lots to eat, and if de rations run short we goes huntin' or
+fishin'. Some de old men kills rattlesnake and cook 'em like fish and
+say dey fish. I eat dat many a time and never knowed it. 'Twas good,
+too.
+
+"Dey used to have a big house where dey kep' de chillen, 'cause de
+wolves and panthers was bad. Some de mammies what suckle de chillen
+takes care of all de chillen durin' de daytime and at night dey own
+mammies come in from de field and take dem. Sometime old missy she help
+nuss and all de li'l niggers well care for. When dey gits sick dey makes
+de med'cine of herbs and well 'em dat way.
+
+"When us left Alabama us come through Meridian to Houston and den to
+Hockley and den to Sunnyside, 'bout 18 mile west of Houston. Dat a
+country with lots of woods and us sot in to clean up de ground and clean
+up 150 acres to farm on. Dere 'bout forty-seven hands and more
+'cumulates. Dey go back to Meridian for more and brung 'em in a ox cart.
+
+"My brother, Bonzane Johnson, was one dey brung on dat trip. I had
+'nother brother, Keen, what die when he 102 year old. Us was all
+long-life people, 'cause I have a gran' uncle what die when he 136 year
+old. He and my grandma and grandpa come from South Carolina and dey was
+all Africa people. I heered dem tell how dey brung from Africa in de
+ship. My daddy he die at 99 and 'nother brother at 104.
+
+"Us see lots of sojers when us come through from Meridian and dey de
+cavalry. Dey come ridin' up with high hats like beavers on dey head and
+us 'fraid of 'em, 'cause dey told us dey gwine take us to Cuba and sell
+us dere.
+
+"When us first git to Texas it was cold--not sort a cold, but I mean
+cold. I shovel de snow many a day. Dey have de big, common house and de
+white folks live upstairs and de niggers sleep on de first floor. Dat to
+'tect de white folks at night, but us have our own houses for to live in
+in de daytime, builded out of logs and daubed with mud and nail rive
+out boards over dat mud. Dey make de chimney out of sticks and mud, too
+but us have no windows, and in summer us kind of live out in de bresh
+arbor, what was cool.
+
+"Us have all kind of crops and more'n 100 acres in fruit, 'cause dey
+brung all kind trees and seeds from Alabama. Dey was undergroun' springs
+and de water was sho' good to drink, 'cause in Mobile de water wasn't
+fitten to drink. It taste like it have de lump of salt melted in it. Us
+keep de butter and milk in de spring house in dem days, 'cause us ain't
+have no ice in dem time.
+
+"Old massa, he name Adam and he brother name John, and dey was way up
+yonder tall people. Old massa die soon and us have missy to say what we
+do. All her overseers have to be good. She punish de slaves iffen day
+bad, but not whip 'em. She have de jail builded undergroun' like de
+stormcave and it have a drop door with de weight on it, so dey couldn't
+git up from de bottom. It sho' was dark in dat place.
+
+"In slavery time us better be in by eight o'clock, better be in dat
+house, better stick to dat rule. I 'member after freedom, missy have de
+big celebration on Juneteenth every year. [Handwritten Note: '?']
+
+"When war come to Texas every plantation was conscrip' for de war and my
+daddy was 'pinted to selec' de able body men offen us place for to be
+sojers. My brother Keen was one of dem. He come back all right, though.
+
+"When freedom come missy give all de men niggers $500 each, but dat
+'federate money and have pictures of hosses on it. Dat de onlies' money
+missy have den. Old missy Betty, she die in Sunnyside, Texas, when she
+115 year old.
+
+"When I's 18 year old I marry a gal by name Lucy Johnson. She dead now
+long ago. I got five livin' chillen somewhere, but I done lost track of
+'em. One of dem boys serve in de last war.
+
+"I used to hear somethin' 'bout rabbit foot. De old folks used to say
+dat iffen de rabbit have time to stop and lick he foot de dog can't
+track him no more and I allus wears de rabbit foot for good luck. I
+don't know if it brung me dat luck, though.
+
+"I been here 36 year and I work mos' de time as house mover, what I work
+at 26 year. I'll be honnes' with you, I don't know how old I is, but it
+mus' be plenty, 'cause I 'members lots 'bout de war. I didn't see no
+fightin' but I knowed what was goin' on den.
+
+"I belong to de U. B. F. Lodge, what I pays into in case I gits sick.
+But I never can git sick and I ain't have no ailment 'cept my feets jus'
+swoll up, and I can't git nothin' for that.
+
+
+
+
+420139
+
+
+     HARRY JOHNSON, 86, whose real name was Jim, was born in Missouri,
+     where he was stolen by Harry Fugot, when about twelve years old,
+     and taken to Arkansas. He was given the name of Harry and remained
+     with Fugot until near the close of the Civil War. Fugot then sold
+     him to Graham for 1,200 acres and he was brought to Coryell Co.,
+     Texas, and later to Caldwell Co. He worked in Texas two years
+     before finding out the slaves were free. He later went to McMullen
+     Co. to work cattle, but eventually spent most of his time rearing
+     ten white children. He now lives in Pearsall, where he married at
+     the age of 59.
+
+
+"I come from Missouri to Arkansas and then to Texas, and I was owned by
+Massa Louis Barker and my name was Jim Johnson. But a white man name
+Harry Fugot stoled me and run me out to Arkansas and changed my name to
+Harry. He stoled me from Mississippi County in de southern part of
+Missouri, down close to de Arkansas line, and I was 'bout 12 year old
+then.
+
+"My mama's name was Judie and her husban' name Miller. When I wasn't big
+'nough to pack a chip, old Massa Louis Barker wouldn't take $400 for me,
+'cause he say he wants to make a overseer out of me. My daddy went off
+durin' de war. He carried off by sojers and he never did come back.
+
+"Dey 'bout 30, 40 acres in Massa Barker's plantation in Missouri. He
+used to hire me out from place to place and de men what hires me puts me
+to doin' what he wanted. I was stole from my mammy when I's 'bout 10 or
+12 and she never did know what become of me.
+
+"O, my stars! I seed hun'erds and hun'erds of sojers 'fore I stole from
+Missouri. Dey what us call Yankees. I seed 'em strung out a half-mile
+long, goin' battle two and three deep. Dey never did destroy any homes.
+Dey took up a little stuff. I had five sacks of meal one day and was
+goin' to de mill and de sojers come along and taken me, meal and all. De
+maddes' woman I ever saw was dat day. De sojers come and druv off her
+cows. She told 'em not to, dat her husban' fightin' and she have to make
+de livin' off dem cows, but dey druv de cows to camp and kilt 'bout
+three of 'em. Dey done dat, I knows, 'cause I's with 'em.
+
+"But down in Arkansas I seed de southern sojers and I's plowin' for a
+old lady call Williams, and some sojers come and goes in de house. I
+heered say dey was Green's men, and dey taken everything dat old woman
+have what dey wants, and dey robs lots of houses.
+
+"It don't look reas'able to say it, but it's a fac'--durin' slavery
+iffen you lived one place and your mammy lived 'cross de street you
+couldn't go to see her without a pass. De paddlerollers would whip you
+if you did. Dere was one woman owns some slaves and one of 'em asks her
+for a pass and she give him de piece of paper sposed to be de pass, but
+she writes on it:
+
+  "'His shirt am rough and his back am tough,
+  Do, pray, Mr. Paddleroller, give 'im 'nough.'
+
+"De paddlerollers beat him nearly to death, 'cause that's what's wrote
+on de paper he give 'em.
+
+"I 'member a whippin' one slave got. It were 100 lashes. Dey's a big
+overseer right here on de San Marcos river, Clem Polk, him and he massa
+kilt 16 niggers in one day. Dat massa couldn't keep a overseer, 'cause
+de niggers wouldn't let 'em whip 'em, and dis Clem, he say, 'I'll stay
+dere,' and he finds he couldn't whip dem niggers either, so he jus'
+kilt 'em. One nigger nearly got him and would have kilt him. Dat nigger
+raise de ax to come down on Polk's head and de massa stopped him jus' in
+time, and den Polk shoots dat nigger in de breast with a shotgun.
+
+"Dey had court days and when court met, dey passed a bill what say,
+'Keep de niggers at home.' Some of 'em could go to church and some of
+'em couldn't. Dey'd let de cullud people be baptized, but dey didn't
+many want it, dey didn't understan' it 'nough.
+
+"After de war ends, Massa Fugot sells me to Massa Graham for 1,200 acres
+of land, and I lives in Caldwell County. He was purty good to he slaves
+and we live in a li'l old frame house, facin' west. I sleeps in de same
+house as massa and missus, to guard 'em. One night some men came and
+wake me up and tells me to put my clothes on. Missus was in de bed and
+she 'gin cryin' and tell 'em not to take me, but dey taken me anyway. We
+called 'em Guerrillas and dey thieves. Dey white men and one of 'em I
+had knowed a long time. I's with dem thives and hears 'em talk 'bout
+killin' Yankees. Dey kep' me in de south part of Missouri a long time. I
+didn't do anything but sit 'round de house with dem.
+
+"When I's sold to Massa Graham I didn't have to come to Texas, 'cause
+I's free, but I didn't know dat, and I's out here two years 'fore I
+knowed I's free. Down in Caldwell County is where de bondage was lifted
+offen me and I found out I's free. I jus' stays on and works and my
+massa give me he promise I's git a hoss and saddle and $100 in money
+when I's 21 year old, but he didn't do it. He give me a li'l pony and a
+saddle what I sold for $3.00 and 'bout eight or nine dollars in money.
+He had me blindfolded and I thought I gwine git a good hoss and saddle
+and more money.
+
+"I looks back sometimes and thinks times was better for eatin' in
+slavery dan what dey is now. My mammy was a reg'lar cook and she made me
+peach cobblers and apple dumplin's. In dem days, we'd take cornmeal and
+mix it with water and call 'em corn dodgers and dey awful nice with
+plenty butter. We had lots of hawg meat and when dey kilt a beef a man
+told all de neighbors to come git some of de meat.
+
+"Right after de war, times is pretty hard and I's taken beans and
+parched 'em and got 'em right brown, and meal bran to make coffee out
+of. Times was purty hard, but I allus could find somethin' to work at in
+dem days.
+
+"I lived all my life 'mong white folks and jus' worked in first one
+place and then 'nother. I raised ten white chillen, nine of de Lowe
+chillen, and dey'd mind me quicker dan dey own pappy and mammy. Dat in
+McMullin County.
+
+"De day I's married I's 59 year old and my wife is 'bout 60 year old
+now. De last 20 years I's jus' piddled 'round and done no reg'lar work.
+I married right here in de church house. I nussed my wife when she a
+baby and used to court her mammy when she's a girl. We's been real happy
+together.
+
+
+
+
+420928
+
+
+[Illustration: James D. Johnson]
+
+
+     JAMES D. JOHNSON, born Oct. 1st, 1860, at Lexington, Mississippi,
+     was a slave of Judge Drennon. He now lives with his daughter at
+     4527 Baltimore St., Dallas, Texas. His memory is poor and his
+     conversation is vague and wandering. His daughter says, "He ain't
+     at himself these days." James attended Tuckaloo University, near
+     Jackson, Mississippi, and uses very little dialect.
+
+
+"My first clear recollection is about a day when I was five years old. I
+was playing in the sand by the side of the house in Lexington with some
+other children and some Yankee soldiers came by. They came on horseback
+and they drew rein by the side of the house and I ran under the house
+and hid. My mother called to me to come out and told me they were
+Federal soldiers and I could tell it by their blue uniforms. One of the
+soldiers reached into his haversack and pulled out a uniform and gave it
+to me. 'Have your mammy make a suit out of it,' he said. Another soldier
+gave me a uniform and my mother was a seamstress in the home of the
+Drennons and she made me two suits out of those uniforms.
+
+"Judge Drennon had married the daughter of Colonel Terry and he had
+given my parents to his daughter when she married the judge. My father
+and mother both came from Virginia. Colonel Terry had bought them at
+separate times from a slave trader who brought them from Virginia to
+Mississippi. They had a likeness for each other when they learned both
+came from Virginia. Both of them had white fathers, were light
+complected and had been brought up in the big house.
+
+"When they told the Colonel they wished to marry he only said, 'Julia,
+do you take William,' and 'William, do you take Julia?' Then they were
+man and wife. He gave them the name of Johnson, which was the family
+name of my father's mother and the name of his father.
+
+"When my parents lived with Judge Drennon they had a house in the yard
+quarters. The Drennon home was the most beautiful house I ever have
+seen. It was a big, brick mansion with tall, white pillars reaching up
+to the second story. The yards and grounds were so beautiful the white
+folks used to come from long ways off to see them.
+
+"After the surrendering we lived with the Drennons four or five years.
+They paid my parents for their work and I had an easy time of it. I was
+youngest of eight children and there was ten years or more between me
+and the next older child. My mother wanted to make something special out
+of me.
+
+"I went to three different schools down in the woods before I was nine.
+White people would come and put up schools for the colored children but
+the white people in Mississippi said they were not good people and would
+criticize them. Sometimes the schools would get busted up. We studied
+out of the Blue Back speller and an arithmetic and a dictionary. I could
+spell and give the meaning of most nigh every word in that dictionary.
+
+"When I was thirteen they held an examination at Lexington for colored
+children to see who'd get a scholarship at Tuckaloo University, eight
+miles from Jackson. I was greatly surprised when I won from my county
+and I went but didn't finish there. Then I went a little while to a
+small university near Lexington, called Allcorn University. I loved to
+go to school and was considered bookish. But my people died and I had to
+earn a living for myself and I couldn't find any way to use so much what
+I learned out of books, as far as making money was concerned. So I came
+to Texas, doing any kind of labor work I could find. Finally I married
+and went to farming 35 or 40 years and raised five children.
+
+"I'm the only one left now of my brothers and sisters and it won't be
+long until I'm gone, too, but I don't mind that. We lived a long time.
+Some of it was hard and some of it was good. I tried all the time to
+live according to my lights and that is as far as I know how to do. I
+don't feel resentful of anything, anymore.
+
+"When there is sun, I just sit in the sun."
+
+
+
+
+420132
+
+
+     MARY JOHNSON does not know her age but is evidently very old.
+     Paralytic strokes have affected mind and body. Her speech, though
+     impaired, is a swift flow of words, often profane. A bitter
+     attitude toward everything is apparent. Mary is homeless and owes
+     the necessities of life to the kindness of a middle aged Negress
+     who takes care of several old women in her home in Pear Orchard, in
+     Beaumont, Texas.
+
+
+"Now, wait, white folks, I got to scratch my head so's I kin 'member.
+I's been paralyze so I can't git my tongue to speak good. It git all
+twist up.
+
+"I don't know how old I is. My daddy he have my age in the big Bible but
+he done move 'round so much it git lost long ago. He used to 'long to
+them Guinea men. Them was real small men and they sho' walk fast. He
+wasn't so tall as my mommer and he name John Allen and he a pore man,
+all bone. He sold out from the old country, that Mississippi. My mama
+name Sarah and she come from Choctaw country, 'round in Georgia. I have
+grandma Rebecca, a reg'lar old Indian woman and she have two long black
+braid longer'n her waist and she allus wore a big bonnet with splits in
+it. You know de Indian people totes they chillens on they back and my
+mommer have me wrop up in a blanket and strop on her back.
+
+"I's the firstborn chile and my mommer have two gal chillen, me and
+Hannah, and she have seven boy. Where I's born was old wild country and
+old Virginny run down thataway. Everything was plenty good to eat and I
+seed strawberries what would push you to git 'em in your mouth.
+
+"Clost to where I's born they's a place where they brung the Africy
+people to tame 'em and they have big pens where they puts 'em after
+they takes 'em outta they gun ships. They sho' was wild and they have
+hair all over jus' like a dog and big hammer rings in they noses. They
+didn't wore no clothes and sometime they git 'way and run to them swamps
+in Floridy and git all wild and hairy 'gain. They brung preachers to
+help tame 'em, but didn't 'low no preacher in them pens by hisself,
+'cause they say them preacher won't come back, 'cause some them wild
+Africy people done kill 'em and eat 'em. They done worship them snake
+bit as a rake handle, 'cause they ain't knowed no better. When they gits
+'em all tame they sells 'em for field hands, but they allus wild and
+iffen anybody come they duck and hide down.
+
+"My old missy she name Florence Walker and she reg'lar tough. I helps
+nuss her chile, Mary, and Mary make her mommer be good to me. Us wore
+li'l brass toe shoes and I call mine gold toe shoes. Them shoes hard
+'nough to knock a mule out. After young missy and me git growed us run
+off to dances and old missy beat us behind good. She say us jes' chillen
+yet and keep us in short, short dress and we pull out the stitchin' in
+them hems so us dresses drags and she sho' wore us out for that.
+
+"Did us love to dance? Jesus help me! Them country niggers swing me so
+hard us land in the corner with a wham.
+
+"My brudder Robert he a pow'ful big boy and he wasn't 'lowed to have no
+pants till he 21 year old, but that didn't 'scourage him from courtin'
+the gals. I try tease him 'bout go see the gals with dat split shirt.
+That not all, that boy nuss he mommer breast till he 21 year old. He
+have to have that nussin' real reg'lar. But one time he pesterin' mommer
+and she tryin' milk the cow and the cow git nervous and kick over the
+bucket and mommer fall off the stool and she so mad she wean him right
+there and then.
+
+"Old massa he never clean hisself up or dress up. He look like a vagrant
+thing and he and missy mean, too. My pore daddy he back allus done cut
+up from the whip and bit by the dogs. Sometime when a woman big they
+make a hollow out place for her stomach and make her lay down 'cross
+that hole and whip her behind. They sho' tear that thing up.
+
+"Us chillen git to play and us sing
+
+  "'Old possum in the holler log
+    Sing high de loo,
+  Fatter than a old green frog,
+    Sing high de loo,
+    Whar possum?
+
+"That church they have a 'markable thing. They a deep tranch what cut
+all 'round the bottom and clay steps what lead all the way to the top
+the mountain and when the niggers git to shoutin' that church jes'
+a-rollin' and rockin'. One the songs I 'member was
+
+  "'Shoo the devil out the corner,
+    Shoo, members, shoo,
+  Shoo the devil out the corner,
+    Shoo, members, shoo.'
+
+"Us li'l gals allus wore cottanade dresses ev'ry day. Them what us call
+nine-stitch dresses. Mammy make fasten-back dresses and fasten-back
+drawers and knit sweaters and socks for the mens. She git sheep wool
+what near ruint by cockle burrs and make us chillen set by the hour and
+pick out them burrs.
+
+"Us houses like chicken coops but us sho' happy in that li'l cabin
+house. Nothin' to worry 'bout. Mammy cook them grits, that yaller
+hominy. She make 'ash cat', cornbread wrop in cabbage leaf and put ashes
+'round it.
+
+"The old plantation 'bout on the line 'tween Virginny and Mis'sippi and
+us live near the Madstone. That a big stone, all smooth and when a dog
+bite you you go run 'round the Madstone and wash yourself in the hot
+springs and the bites don't hurt you.
+
+"I seed lots of sojers and my daddy fit with the Yankees and they have a
+big fight close there and have a while lots of dead bodies layin' 'round
+like so many logs and they jus' stack 'em up and sot fire to 'em. You
+seed 'em burnin' night and day. They lay down and shoot and then jump up
+and stick 'em and sometimes they drunk the blood outten where they stick
+'em, 'cause they can't git no water.
+
+"After freedom us go in ox team to New Orleans and daddy he raise cotton
+and sell it and mommer sell eggs. My daddy a workin' man and he help
+build the big custom house in New Orleans and help pull the rope to pull
+the boats up the canal from the river. That Canal Street now. He put he
+name on top that custom house and it there to this day. You can go there
+and see it. He help build the hosp'tal, too.
+
+"One time us live close to the bay and that gran' and us take a stove
+and cotch catfish and perch and cook 'em on the bank and us go meet
+oyster boats and daddy git 'em by the tub.
+
+"I git marry in Baton Rouge when I sixteen and my husban' he name Arras
+Shaw and he lots older'n me and I couldn't keep him. He in Port Arthur
+now. My husban' and I sawmill 20 year in Grayburg, here in Texas, and
+then us sep'rate. I been in Beaumont 16 year and I's rice farm cook in
+the camp on the Fannett Road. They tells me I got uncles in Africy. I
+goes to Sanctified church and that all I can do now.
+
+
+
+
+420050
+
+
+[Illustration: Mary Ellen Johnson]
+
+
+     MARY ELLEN JOHNSON, owner of a little restaurant at 1301 Marilla
+     St., Dallas, Texas, is 77 years old. She was born in slavery to the
+     Murth family, about ten miles from San Marcos, Texas. She neither
+     reads nor writes but talks with little dialect.
+
+
+"I don't know so fur back as befo' I was born, 'cept what my mammy told
+me, and she allus said little black chillen wasn't sposed to ask so many
+questions. Her name was Missouri Ellison, 'cause she belonged to Miss
+Micelder Ellison and then when she married with Mr. Murth, her daddy
+said my mammy was her 'heritance.
+
+"My first mem'ries are us playin' in the backyard with Miss Fannie and
+Miss Martha and Mr. Sammie. They was the little Murth chillen. We used
+to make playhouses out there and sweep the ground clean down to the
+level with brush brooms and dec'rate it all up with little broken
+glasses and crockery.
+
+"In them days we lived in a little, old log cabin in the backyard and
+there was just one room, but it was snug and we had a plenty of livin'.
+My mammy had a nice cotton bed and she weren't no field nigger, but my
+pappy were.
+
+"Miss Micelder had a fine farm and raised most everything we ate and the
+food nowadays ain't like what it was then. Miss Micelder had a wood
+frame house with a big kitchen and they were cookin' goin' on all the
+time. They cooked on a wood stove with iron pots and skillets, and the
+roastin' ears and chicken fried right out of your own yard is tastier
+than what you git now. Grated 'tater puddin' was my dish.
+
+"When I am seven years old I hear talk 'bout a war and the separation
+but I don't pay much 'tention. It seem far away and I don't bother my
+kinky head 'bout it. But then they tells eme [typo: me] the war is over
+and I'm goin' to be raised free and that I don't 'long to anybody but
+Gawd and my pappy and mammy, but it don't make me feel nothin', 'cause I
+ain't never know I ain't free.
+
+"After the war we removed to a house on a hill where they is five
+houses, little log houses all in a row. We had good times, but we had to
+work in the cotton and corn and wheat in the daylight time, but when the
+dusk come we used to sing and dance and play into the moonlight.
+
+"But one man called Milton, he's past his yearling boy days and he
+didn't like to see us spend our time in sin, so he'd preach to us from
+the Gospel, but I had the hardest time to get 'ligion of anybody I
+knowed. Fin'ly I got sick when I were fifteen and was in my bed and
+somethin' happened. Lawd, it was the most 'lievable thing ever happened
+to me. I was layin' there when sin formed a heavy, white veil just like
+a blanket over my bed and it just eased down over me till it was mashing
+the breath out of me. I crys out to the Lawd to save me and, sho'
+'nough, He hear the cry of a pore mis'able sinner. I ran to my mammy and
+pappy a-shoutin'.
+
+"The next year I marries and went on 'nother farm right near by and
+starts havin' chillen. I has ten and think I done rightly my part,
+'cause I lived right by the word and taught my chillen the same. I'm
+lookin' to the promise to live in Glory after my days here is done.
+
+
+
+
+420115
+
+
+[Illustration: Pauline Johnson and Felice Boudreaux]
+
+
+     PAULINE JOHNSON and FELICE BOUDREAUX, sisters, were once slaves on
+     the plantation of Dermat Martine, near Opelousas, Louisiana. As
+     their owners were French, they are more inclined to use a Creole
+     patois than English.
+
+
+"Us was both slaves on de old plantation close to Opelousas," Pauline
+began. As the elder of the two sisters she carried most of the
+conversation, although often referring to Felice before making positive
+statements.
+
+"I was 12 year old when freedom come and Felice was 'bout six. Us
+belonged to Massa Dermat Martine and the missy's name Mimi. They raise
+us both in the house and they love us so they spoil us. I never will
+forget that. The little white chillen was younger than me, 'bout
+Felice's age. They sho' had pretty li'l curly black hair.
+
+"Us didn't have hard time. Never even knowed hard time. That old massa,
+he what you call a good man.
+
+"Us daddy was Renee and he work in the field. The old massa give him a
+mud and log house and a plot of ground for he own. The rain sho' never
+get in that log house, it so tight. The furniture was homemake, but my
+daddy make it good and stout.
+
+"Us daddy he work de ground he own on Sunday and sold the things to buy
+us shoes to put on us feet and clothes. The white folks didn't give us
+clothes but they let him have all the money he made in his own plot to
+get them.
+
+"Us mama name Marguerite and she a field hand, too, so us chillen growed
+up in the white folks house mostly. 'Fore Felice get big enough to leave
+I stay in the big house and take care of her.
+
+"One day us papa fall sick in the bed, just 'fore freedom, and he kep'
+callin' for the priest. Old massa call the priest and just 'fore us papa
+die the priest marry him and my mama. 'fore dat they just married by the
+massa's word.
+
+"Felice and me, us have two brothers what was born and die in slavery,
+and one sister still livin' in Bolivar now. Us three uncles, Bruno and
+Pophrey and Zaphrey, they goes to the war. Them three dies too young.
+The Yankees stole them and make them boys fight for them.
+
+"I never done much work but wash the dishes. They wasn't poor people and
+they uses good dishes. The missy real particular 'bout us shinin' them
+dishes nice, and the silver spoons and knives, too.
+
+"Them white people was good Christian people and they christen us both
+in the old brick Catholic church in Opelousas. They done torn it down
+now. Missy give me pretty dress to get christen in. My godmother, she
+Mileen Nesaseau, but I call her 'Miran'. My godfather called 'Paran.'
+
+"On Sunday mornin' us fix our dress and hair and go up to the missy's
+looking-glass to see if us pretty enough go to church. Us goes to Mass
+every Sunday mornin' and church holiday, and when the cullud folks sick
+massa send for the priest same's for the white folks.
+
+"We wears them things on the strings round the neck for the good of the
+heart. They's nutmeg.
+
+"The plantation was a big, grand place and they have lots of orange
+trees. The slaves pick them oranges and pack then down on the barrel
+with la mosse (Spanish moss) to keep them. They was plenty pecans and
+figs, too.
+
+"In slavery time most everybody round Opelousas talk Creole. That make
+the words hard to come sometime. Us both talk that better way than
+English.
+
+"Durin' the war, it were a sight. Every mornin' Capt. Jenerette Bank and
+he men go a hoss-back drillin' in the pasture and then have drill on
+foot. A white lady take all us chillen to the drill ground every
+mornin'. Us take the lunch food in the basket and stay till they done
+drill out.
+
+"I can sing for you the song they used to sing:
+
+  "O, de Yankee come to put de nigger free,
+    Says I, says I, pas bonne;
+      In eighteen-sixty-three,
+  De Yankee get out they gun and say,
+  Hurrah! Let's put on the ball.
+
+"When war over none the slaves wants leave the plantation. My mama and
+us chillen stays on till old massa and missy dies, and then goes live on
+the old Repridim place for a time.
+
+"Both us get marry in that Catholic church in Opelousas. As for me, it
+most too long ago to talk about. His name Alfred Johnson and he dead 12
+years. Our youngest boy, John, go to the World War. Two my nephews die
+in that war and one nephew can't walk now from that war.
+
+"Felice marry Joseph Boudreaux and when he die she come here to stay
+with me. There's more hard time now than in the old day for us, but I
+hope things get better.
+
+
+
+
+420103
+
+
+[Illustration: Spence Johnson]
+
+
+     SPENCE JOHNSON was born free, a member of the Choctaw Nation, in
+     the Indian Territory, in the 1850's. He does not know his exact
+     age. He and his mother were stolen and sold at auction in
+     Shreveport to Riley Surratt, who lived near Shreveport, on the
+     Texas-Louisiana line. He has lived in Waco since 1874.
+
+
+"De nigger stealers done stole me and my mammy out'n de Choctaw Nation,
+up in de Indian Territory, when I was 'bout three years old. Brudder
+Knox, Sis Hannah, and my mammy and her two step-chillun was down on de
+river washin'. De nigger stealers driv up in a big carriage and mammy
+jus' thought nothin', 'cause the road was near dere and people goin' on
+de road stopped to water de horses and res' awhile in de shade. By'n by,
+a man coaxes de two bigges' chillun to de carriage and give dem some
+kind-a candy. Other chillun sees dis and goes, too. Two other men was
+walkin' 'round smokin' and gettin' closer to mammy all de time. When he
+kin, de man in de carriage got de two big step-chillun in with him and
+me and sis' clumb in too, to see how come. Den de man holler, 'Git de
+ole one and let's git from here.' With dat de two big men grab mammy and
+she fought and screeched and bit and cry, but dey hit her on de head
+with something and drug her in, and throwed her on de floor. De big
+chilluns begin to fight for mammy, but one of de men hit 'em hard and
+off dey driv, with de horses under whip.
+
+"Dis was near a place called Boggy Depot. Dey went down de Red Ribber,
+'cross de ribber and on down in Louisian to Shreveport. Down in Louisan
+us was put on what dey call de 'block' and sol' to de highes' bidder. My
+mammy and her three chillun brung $3,000 flat. De step chillun was sol'
+to somebody else, but us was bought by Marse Riley Surratt. He was de
+daddy of Jedge Marshall Surratt, him who got to be jedge here in Waco.
+
+"Marse Riley Surratt had a big plantation; don't know how many acres,
+but dere was a factory and gins and big houses and lots of nigger
+quarters. De house was right on de Tex-Louisan line. Mammy cooked for
+'em. When Marse Riley bought her, she couldn' speak nothin' but de
+Choctaw words. I was a baby when us lef' de Choctaw country. My sister
+looked like a full blood Choctaw Indian and she could pass for a real
+full blood Indian. Mammy's folks was all Choctaw Indians. Her sisters
+was Polly Hogan, and Sookey Hogan and she had a brudder, Nolan Tubby.
+Dey was all known in de Territory in de ole days.
+
+"Near as Marse Riley's books can come to it, I mus' of been bo'n 'round
+1859, up in de Territory.
+
+"Us run de hay press to bale cotton on de plantation and took cotton by
+ox wagons to Shreveport. Seven or eight wagons in a train, with three or
+four yoke of steers to each wagon. Us made 'lasses and cloth and shoes
+and lots of things. Old Marse Riley had a nigger who could make shoes
+and if he had to go to court in Carthage, he'd leave nigger make shoes
+for him.
+
+"De quarters was a quarter mile long, all strung out on de creek bank.
+Our cabin was nex' de big house. De white folks give big balls and had
+supper goin' all night. Us had lots to eat and dey let us have dances
+and suppers, too. We never go anywhere. Mammy always cry and 'fraid of
+bein' stole again.
+
+"Dere was a white man live close to us, but over in Louisan. He had
+raised him a great big black man what brung fancy price on de block. De
+black man sho' love dat white man. Dis white man would sell ole
+John--dat's de black man's name--on de block to some man from Georgia or
+other place fur off. Den, after 'while de white man would steal ole John
+back and bring him home and feed him good, den sell him again. After he
+had sol' ole John some lot of times, he coaxed ole John off in de swamp
+one day and ole John foun' dead sev'ral days later. De white folks said
+dat de owner kilt him, 'cause 'a dead nigger won't tell no tales.'
+
+"Durin' de Freedom War, I seed soldiers all over de road. Dey was
+breakin' hosses what dey stole. Us skeered and didn' let soldiers see us
+if we could he'p it. Mammy and I stayed on with Marse Riley after
+Freedom and till I was 'bout sixteen. Den Marse Riley died and I come to
+Waco in a wagon with Jedge Surratt's brother, Marse Taylor Surratt. I
+come to Waco de same year dat Dr. Lovelace did, and he says that was
+1874. I married and us had six chillun.
+
+"I can't read or write, 'cause I only went to school one day. De white
+folks tried to larn me, but I's too thickheaded.
+
+
+
+
+420244
+
+
+[Illustration: Harriet Jones]
+
+[Illustration: Harriet Jones with Daughter and Granddaughter]
+
+
+     HARRIET JONES, 93, was born a slave of Martin Fullbright, who owned
+     a large plantation in North Carolina. When he died his daughter,
+     Ellen, became Harriet's owner, and was so kind to Harriet that she
+     looks back on slave years as the happiest time in her life.
+
+
+"My daddy and mammy was Henry and Zilphy Guest and Marse Martin
+Fullbright brung dem from North Carolina to Red River County, in Texas,
+long 'fore freedom, and settled near Clarksville. I was one of dere
+eight chillen and borned in 1844 and am 93 years old. My folks stayed
+with Marse Martin and he daughter, Miss Ellen, till dey went to de
+reward where dey dies no more.
+
+"De plantation raise corn and oats and wheat and cotton and hawgs and
+cattle and hosses, and de neares' place to ship to market am at
+Jefferson, Texas, ninety miles from Clarksville, den up river to
+Shreveport and den to Memphis or New Orleans. Dey send cotton by wagon
+train to Jefferson but mostly by boat up de bayou.
+
+"When Marse Martin die he 'vide us slaves to he folks and I falls to he
+daughter, Miss Ellen. Iffen ever dere was a angel on dis earth she was
+it. I hopes wherever it is, her spirit am in glory.
+
+"When Miss Ellen marry Marse Johnnie Watson, she have me fix her up. She
+have de white satin dress and pink sash and tight waist and hoop skirt,
+so she have to go through de door sideways. De long curls I made hang
+down her shoulders and a bunch of pink roses in de hand. She look like a
+angel.
+
+"All de fine folks in Clarksville at dat weddin' and dey dances in de
+big room after de weddin' supper. It was de grand time but it make me
+cry, 'cause Miss Ellen done growed up. When she was a li'l gal she wore
+de sweetes' li'l dresses and panties with de lace ruffles what hung down
+below her skirt, and de jacket button in de back and shoes from soft
+leather de shoeman tan jus' for her. When she li'l bigger she wear de
+tucked petticoats, two, three at a time to take place of hoops, but she
+still wear de white panties with lace ruffles what hang below de skirt
+'bout a foot. Where dey gone now? I ain't seed any for sich a long time!
+
+"When de white ladies go to church in dem hoop skirts, dey has to pull
+dem up in da back to set down. After freedom dey wears de dresses long
+with de train and has to hold up de train when dey goes in de church,
+lessen dey has de li'l nigger to go 'long and hold it up for dem.
+
+"All us house women larned to knit de socks and head mufflers, and many
+is de time I has went to town and traded socks for groceries. I cooked,
+too, and helped 'fore old Marse died. For everyday cookin' we has corn
+pone and potlicker and bacon meat and mustard and turnip greens, and
+good, old sorghum 'lasses. On Sunday we has chicken or turkey or roast
+pig and pies and cakes and hot, salt-risin' bread.
+
+"When folks visit dem days dey do it right and stays several days, maybe
+a week or two. When de quality folks comes for dinner, Missie show me
+how to wait on table. I has to come in when she ring de bell, and hold
+de waiter for food jus' right. For de breakfas' we has coffee and hot
+waffles what my mammy make.
+
+"Dere was a old song we used to sing 'bout de hoecake, when we cookin'
+dem:
+
+  "'If you wants to bake a hoecake,
+  To bake it good and done,
+  Slap it on a nigger's heel,
+  And hold it to de sun.
+
+  "'My mammy baked a hoecake,
+  As big as Alabama,
+  She throwed it 'gainst a nigger's head,
+  It ring jus' like a hammer.
+
+  "'De way you bake a hoecake,
+  De old Virginny way,
+  Wrap it round a nigger's stomach,
+  And hold it dere all day.'
+
+"Dat de life we lives with old and young marse and missie, for dey de
+quality folks of old Texas.
+
+"'Bout time for de field hands to go to work, it gittin' mighty hot down
+here, so dey go by daylight when it cooler. Old Marse have a horn and
+'long 'bout four o'clock it 'gin to blow, and you turn over and try take
+'nother nap, den it goes arguin', b l o w, how loud dat old horn do
+blow, but de sweet smell de air and de early breeze blowin' through de
+trees, and de sun peepin' over de meadow, make you glad to git up in de
+early mornin'.
+
+  "'It's a cool and frosty mornin'
+  And de niggers goes to work,
+  With hoes upon dey shoulders,
+  Without a bit of shirt.'
+
+"'When dey hears de horn blow for dinner it am de race, and dey sings:
+
+  "'I goes up on de meatskins,
+  I comes down on de pone--
+  I hits de corn pone fifty licks,
+  And makes dat butter moan.'
+
+"De timber am near de river and de bayou and when dey not workin' de
+hosses or no other work, we rides down and goes huntin' with de boys,
+for wild turkeys and prairie chickens, but dey like bes' to hunt for
+coons and possums.
+
+  "'Possum up de gum stump,
+  Raccoon in de hollow--
+  Git him down and twist him out,
+  And I'll give you a dollar.'
+
+"Come Christmas, Miss Ellen say, 'Harriet, have de Christmas Tree carry
+in and de holly and evergreens.' Den she puts de candles on de tree and
+hangs de stockin's up for de white chillen and de black chillen. Nex'
+mornin', everybody up 'fore day and somethin' for us all, and for de men
+a keg of cider or wine on de back porch, so dey all have a li'l
+Christmas spirit.
+
+"De nex' thing am de dinner, serve in de big dinin' room, and dat
+dinner! De onlies' time what I ever has sich a good dinner am when I
+gits married and when Miss Ellen marries Mr. Johnnie. After de white
+folks eats, dey watches de servants have dey dinner.
+
+"Den dey has guitars and banjoes and fiddles and plays old Christmas
+tunes, den dat night marse and missie brung de chillen to de quarters,
+to see de niggers have dey dance. 'Fore de dance dey has Christmas
+supper, on de long table out in de yard in front de cabins, and have
+wild turkey or chicken and plenty good things to eat. When dey all
+through eatin', dey has a li'l fire front de main cabins where de
+dancin' gwine be. Dey moves everything out de cabin 'cept a few chairs.
+Next come de fiddler and banjo-er and when dey starts, de caller call,
+'Heads lead off,' and de first couple gits in middle de floor, and all
+de couples follow till de cabin full. Next he calls, 'Sashay to de
+right, and do-si-do.' Round to de right dey go, den he calls, 'Swing
+you partners, and dey swing dem round twice, and so it go till daylight
+come, den he sing dis song:
+
+  "'Its gittin' mighty late when de Guinea hen squall,
+  And you better dance now if you gwine dance a-tall--
+  If you don't watch out, you'll sing 'nother tune,
+  For de sun rise and cotch you, if you don't go soon,
+  For de stars gittin' paler and de old gray coon
+  Is sittin' in de grapevine a-watchin' de moon.'
+
+"Den de dance break up with de Virginny Reel, and it de end a happy
+Christmas day. De old marse lets dem frolic all night and have nex' day
+to git over it, 'cause its Christmas.
+
+"'Fore freedom de soldiers pass by our house and stop ask mammy to cook
+dem something to eat, and when de Yankees stop us chillen hides. Once
+two men stays two, three weeks lookin' round, pretends dey gwine buy
+land. But when de white folks gits 'spicious, dey leaves right sudden,
+and it turn out dey's Yankee spies.
+
+"I marries Bill Jones de year after freedom. It a bright, moonlight
+night and all de white folks and niggers come and de preacher stand
+under de big elm tree, and I come in with two li'l pickininnies for
+flower gals and holdin' my train. I has on one Miss Ellen's dresses and
+red stockin's and a pair brand new shoes and a wide brim hat. De
+preacher say, 'Bill, does you take dis woman to be you lawful wife?' and
+Bill say he will. Den he say, 'Harriet, will you take dis nigger to be
+you lawful boss and do jes' what he say?' Den we signs de book and de
+preacher say, 'I quotes from de scripture:
+
+  "'Dark and stormy may come de weather,
+  I jines dis man and woman together.
+  Let none but Him what make de thunder,
+  Put dis man and woman asunder.'
+
+"Den we goes out in de backyard, where de table sot for supper, a long
+table made with two planks and de peg legs. Miss Ellen puts on de white
+tablecloth and some red berries, 'cause it am November and dey is ripe.
+Den she puts on some red candles, and we has barbecue pig and roast
+sweet 'taters and dumplin's and pies and cake. Dey all eats dis grand
+supper till dey full and mammy give me de luck charm for de bride. It am
+a rabbit toe, and she say:
+
+  "'Here, take dis li'l gift,
+  And place it near you heart;
+  It keep away dat li'l riff
+  What causes folks to part.
+
+  "'It only jes' a rabbit toe,
+  But plenty luck it brings,
+  Its worth a million dimes or more,
+  More'n all de weddin' rings.'
+
+"Den we goes to Marse Watson's saddleshop to dance and dances all night,
+and de bride and groom, dat's us, leads de grand march.
+
+"De Yankees never burned de house or nothin', so Young Marse and Missie
+jes' kep' right on livin' in de old home after freedom, like old Marse
+done 'fore freedom. He pay de families by de day for work and let dem
+work land on de halves and furnish dem teams and grub and dey does de
+work.
+
+"But bye'n-bye times slow commence to change, and first one and 'nother
+de old folks goes on to de Great Beyon', one by one dey goes, till all I
+has left am my great grandchild what I lives with now. My sister was
+livin' at Greenville six years ago. She was a hundred and four years old
+den. I don't know if she's livin' now or not. How does we live dat long?
+Way back yonder 'fore I's born was a blessin' handed down from my great,
+great, grandfather. It de blessin' of long life, and come with a
+blessin' of good health from livin' de clean, hones' life. When
+nighttime come, we goes to bed and to sleep, and dat's our blessin'.
+
+
+
+
+420057
+
+
+[Illustration: Lewis Jones]
+
+
+     LEWIS JONES, 86, was born a slave to Fred Tate, who owned a large
+     plantation on the Colorado River in Fayette Co., Texas. Lewis'
+     father was born a slave to H. Jones and was sold to Fred Tate, who
+     used him as a breeder to build up his slave stock. Lewis took his
+     father's name after Emancipation, and worked for twenty-three years
+     in a cotton gin at La Grange. He came to Fort Worth in 1896 and
+     worked for Armour & Co. until 1931. Lewis lives at 3304 Loving
+     Ave., Fort Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"My birth am in de year 1851 on de plantation of Massa Fred Tate, what
+am on de Colorado River. Yes, suh, dat am in de state of Texas. My mammy
+am owned by Massa Tate and so am my pappy and all my brudders and
+sisters. How many brudders and sisters? Lawd A-mighty! I'll tell you
+'cause you asks and dis nigger gives de facts as 'tis. Let's see, I
+can't 'lect de number. My pappy have 12 chillen by my mammy and 12 by
+anudder nigger name Mary. You keep de count. Den dere am Liza, him have
+10 by her, and dere am Mandy, him have 8 by her, and dere am Betty, him
+have six by her. Now, let me 'lect some more. I can't bring de names to
+mind, but dere am two or three other what have jus' one or two chillen
+by my pappy. Dat am right. Close to 50 chillen, 'cause my mammy done
+told me. It's disaway, my pappy am de breedin' nigger.
+
+"You sees, when I meets a nigger on dat plantation, I's most sho' it am
+a brudder or sister, so I don't try keep track of 'em.
+
+"Massa Tate didn't give rations to each family like lots of massas, but
+him have de cookhouse and de cooks, and all de rations cooked by dem and
+all us niggers sat down to de long tables. Dere am plenty, plenty. I
+sho' wishes I could have some good rations like dat now. Man, some of
+dat ham would go fine. Dat was 'Ham, what am.'
+
+"We'uns raise all de food right dere on de place. Hawgs? We'uns have
+three, four hundred and massa raise de corn and feed dem and cure de
+meat. We'uns have de cornmeal and de wheat flour and all de milk and
+butter we wants, 'cause massa have 'bout 30 cows. And dere am de good
+old 'lasses, too.
+
+"Massa feed powerful good and he am not onreas'ble. He don't whup much
+and am sho' reas'ble 'bout de pass, and he 'low de parties and have de
+church on de place. Old Tom am de preacherman and de musician and him
+play de fiddle and banjo. Sometime dey have jig contest, dat when dey
+puts de glass of water on de head and see who can jig de hardes' without
+spillin' de water. Den dere am joyment in de singin'. Preacher Tom set
+all us niggers in de circle and sing old songs. I jus' can't sing for
+you, 'cause I's lost my teeth and my voice am raspin', but I'll word
+some, sich as
+
+  "'In de new Jerusalem,
+  In de year of Jubilee.'
+
+"I done forgit de words. Den did you ever hear dis one:
+
+  "'Oh, do, what Sam done, do dat again,
+  He went to de hambone, bit off de end.'
+
+"When Old Tom am preacherman, him talks from he heartfelt. Den sometime
+a white preacherman come and he am de Baptist and baptize we'uns.
+
+"Massa have de fine coach and de seat for de driver am up high in front
+and I's de coachman and he dresses me nice and de hosses am fine, white
+team. Dere I's sat up high, all dress good, holdin' a tight line 'cause
+de team am full of spirit and fast. We'uns goes lickity split and it am
+a purty sight. Man, 'twarnt anyone bigger dan dis nigger.
+
+"I has de bad luck jus' one time with dat team and it am disaway: massa
+have jus' change de power for de gin from hoss to steam and dey am
+ginnin' cotton and I's with dat team 'side de house and de hosses am
+a-prancin' and waitin' for missy to come out. Massa am in de coach. Den,
+de fool niggers blows de whistle of dat steam engine and de hosses never
+heered sich befo' and dey starts to run. Dey have de bit in de teeths
+and I's lucky dat road am purty straight. I thinks of massa bein' inside
+de coach and wants to save him. I says to myself, 'Dem hosses skeert and
+I don't want to skeer 'em no more.' I jus' hold de lines steady and keep
+sayin', 'Steady, boys, whoa boys.' Fin'ly dey begins to slow down and
+den stops and massa gits out and de hosses am puffin' hard and all foam.
+He turns to me and say, 'Boy, you's made a wonnerful drive, like a
+vet'ran.' Now, does dat make me feel fine! It sho' do.
+
+"When surrender come I's been drivin' 'bout a year and it's 'bout 11
+o'clock in de mornin', 'cause massa have me ring de bell and all de
+niggers runs quick to de house and massa say dey am free niggers. It am
+time for layin' de crops by and he say if dey do dat he pay 'em. Some
+stays and some goes off, but mammy and pappy and me stays. Dey never
+left dat plantation, and I stays 'bout 8 years. I guess it dat coachman
+job what helt me.
+
+"When I quits I goes to work for Ed Mattson in La Grange and I works in
+dat cotton gin 18 years. Fin'ly I comes here to Fort Worth. Dat am 1896.
+I works for Armours 20 years but dey let me off six years ago, 'cause
+I's too old. Since den I works at any little old job, for to make my
+livin'.
+
+"Sho', I's been married and it to Jane Owen in La Grange, and we'uns
+have three chillen and dey all dead. She died in 1931.
+
+"It am hard for dis nigger to git by and sometime I don't know for sho'
+dat I's gwine git anudder meal, but it allus come some way. Yes, suh,
+dey allus come some way. Some of de time dey is far apart, but dey
+comes. De Lawd see to dat, I guess.
+
+
+
+
+420148
+
+
+     LIZA JONES, 81, was born a slave of Charley Bryant, near Liberty,
+     Texas. She lives in Beaumont, and her little homestead is reached
+     by a devious path through a cemetery and across a ravine on a plank
+     foot-bridge. Liza sat in a backless chair, smoking a pipe, and her
+     elderly son lay on a blanket nearby. Both were resting after a hot
+     day's work in the field. Within the open door could be seen Henry
+     Jones, Liza's husband for sixty years, a tall, gaunt Negro who is
+     helpless. Blind, deaf and almost speechless, he could tell nothing
+     of slavery days, although he was grown when the war ended.
+
+
+"When de Yankees come to see iffen dey had done turn us a-loose, I am a
+nine year old nigger gal. That make me about 81 now. Dey promenade up to
+de gate and de drum say a-dr-um-m-m-m-m, and de man in de blue uniform
+he git down to open de gate. Old massa he see dem comin' and he runned
+in de house and grab up de gun. When he come hustlin' down off de
+gallery, my daddy come runnin'. He seed old massa too mad to know what
+he a-doin', so quicker dan a chicken could fly he grab dat gun and
+wrastle it outten old massa's hands. Den he push old massa in de
+smokehouse and lock de door. He ain't do dat to be mean, but he want to
+keep old massa outten trouble. Old massa know dat, but he beat on de
+door and yell, but it ain't git open till dem Yankees done gone.
+
+"I wisht old massa been a-livin' now, I'd git a piece of bread and meat
+when I want it. Old man Charley Bryant, he de massa, and Felide Bryant
+de missus. Dey both have a good age when freedom come.
+
+"My daddy he George Price and he boss nigger on de place. Dey all come
+from Louisiana, somewhere round New Orleans and all dem li'l extra
+places.
+
+"Liz'beth she my mama and dey's jus' two us chillen, me and my brudder,
+John. He lives in Beaumont.
+
+"'Bout all de work I did was 'tend to de rooms and sweep. Nobody ever
+'low us to see nobody 'bused. I never seed or heared of nobody gittin'
+cut to pieces with a whip like some. Course, chillen wasn't 'lowed to go
+everywhere and see everything like dey does now. Dey jump in every
+corner now.
+
+"Miss Flora and Miss Molly am de only ones of my white folks what am
+alive now and dey done say dey take me to San Antonio with dem. Course,
+I couldn't go now and leave Henry, noway. De old Bryant place am in de
+lawsuit. Dey say de brudder, Mister Benny, he done sharped it 'way from
+de others befo' he die, but I 'lieve the gals will win dat lawsuit.
+
+"My daddy am de gold pilot on de old place. Dat mean anything he done
+was right and proper. Way after freedom, when my daddy die in Beaumont,
+Cade Bryant and Mister Benny both want to see him befo' he buried. Dey
+ride in and say, 'Better not you bury him befo' us see him. Dat's us
+young George.' Dey allus call daddy dat, but he old den.
+
+"My mama was de spring back cook and turkey baker. Dey call her dat, she
+so neat, and cook so nice. I's de expert cook, too. She larnt me.
+
+"Us chillen used to sing
+
+  "'Don't steal,
+  Don't steal my sugar.
+  Don't steal,
+  Don't steal my candy.
+  I's comin' round de mountain.'
+
+"Dey sho' have better church in dem days dan now. Us git happy and
+shout. Dey too many blind taggers now. Now dey say dey got de key and
+dey ain't got nothin'. Us used to sing like dis:
+
+  "'Adam's fallen race,
+  Good Lawd, hang down my head and cry.
+  Help me to trust him,
+  Help me to trust him,
+  Help me to trust him,
+     Gift of Gawd.
+
+  "'Help me to trust him,
+  Help me to trust him,
+  Help me to trust him,
+     Eternal Life.
+
+  "'Had not been for Adam's race,
+  I wouldn't been sinnin' today,
+  Help me to trust him,
+     Gift of Gawd.'
+
+"Dey 'nother hymn like dis:
+
+  "'Heavenly land,
+  Heavenly land,
+  I's gwineter beg Gawd,
+  For dat Heavenly land.
+
+  "'Some come cripplin',
+  Some come lame,
+  Some come walkin',
+  In Jesus' name.'
+
+"You know I saw you-all last night in my sleep? I ain't never seed you
+befo' today, but I seed you last night. Dey's two of you, a man and a
+woman, and you come crost dat bridge and up here, askin' me iffen I
+trust in de Lawd. And here you is today.
+
+"Dey had nice parties in slavery time and right afterwards. Dey have
+candy pullin' and corn shuckin's and de like. Old Massa Day and Massa
+Bryant, dey used to put dey niggers together and have de prize dances.
+Massa Day allus lose, 'cause us allus beat he niggers at dancin'. Lawd,
+when I clean myself up, I sho' could teach dem how to buy a cake-walk in
+dem days. I could cut de pigeon wing, jes' pull my heels up and clack
+dem together. Den us do de back step and de banquet, too.
+
+"Us allus have de white tarleton Swiss dress for dances and Sunday. Dem
+purty good clothes, too and dey make at home. Us knowed how to sew and
+one de old man's gals, she try teach me readin' and writin'. I didn't
+have no sense, though, and I cry to go out and play.
+
+"When freedom come old massa he done broke down and cry, so my daddy
+stay with him. He stay a good many year, till both us chillen was
+growed. Us have de li'l log house on de place all dat time. Dey 'nother
+old cullud man what stay, name George Whitehouse. He have de li'l house,
+too. He stay till he die.
+
+"Dey was tryin' to make a go of it after de war, 'cause times was hard.
+De white boys, dey go out in de field and work den, and work hard,
+'cause dey don't have de slaves no more. I used to see de purty, young
+white ladies, all dress up, comin' to de front door. I slips out and
+tell de white boys, and dey workin' in de field, half-naked and dirty,
+and dey sneak in de back door and clean up to spark dem gals.
+
+"I been marry to dat Henry in dere sixty year, and he was a slave in
+Little Rock, in Arkansas, for Anderson Jones. Henry knowed de bad,
+tejous part of de war and he must be 'bout 96 year old. Now he am in
+pain all de time. Can't see, can't hear and can't talk. Us never has had
+de squabble. At de weddin' de white folks brung cakes and every li'l
+thing. I had a white tarleton dress with de white tarleton wig. Dat de
+hat part what go over de head and drape on de shoulder. Dat de sign you
+ain't never done no wrong sin and gwinter keep bein' good.
+
+"After us marry I move off de old place, but nothin' must do but I got
+to keep de house for Mister Benny. I's cleanin' up one time and finds a
+milk churn of money. I say, 'Mr. Benny, what for you ain't put dat money
+in de bank?' He say he will. De next time I cleanin' up I finds a pillow
+sack full of money. I says, 'Mr. Benny, I's gwineter quit. I ain't
+gwineter be 'sponsible for dis money.' He's sick den and I put de money
+under he pillow and git ready to go. He say, 'You better stay, or I send
+Andrew, de sheriff, after you.' I goes and cooks dinner and when I gits
+back dey has four doctors with Mr. Benny. He wife say to me, 'Liza, you
+got de sight. Am Benny gwineter git well?' I goes and looks and I knowed
+he gwine way from dere. I knowed he was gone den. Dey leant on me a heap
+after dat.
+
+"It some years after dat I leaves dem and Henry and me gits married and
+us make de livin' farmin'. Us allus stays right round hereabouts and
+gits dis li'l house. Now my son and me, us work de field and gits 'nough
+to git through on.
+
+
+
+
+420089
+
+
+[Illustration: Lizzie Jones]
+
+
+     LIZZIE JONES, an 86 year old ex-slave of the R.H. Hargrove family,
+     was born in 1861, in Harrison County, Texas. She stayed with her
+     owner until four years after the close of the Civil War. She now
+     lives with Talmadge Buchanan, a grandson, two miles east of
+     Karnack, on the Lee road.
+
+
+"I was bo'n on the ole Henry Hargrove place. My ole missus was named
+Elizabeth and mammy called me Lizzie for her. But the Hargroves called
+me 'Wink' since I was a chile, 'cause I was so black and shiny. Massa
+Hargrove had four girls and four boys and I helped tend them till I was
+big enough to cook and keep house. I wagged ole Marse Dr. Hargrove, dat
+lives in Marshall, round when he was a baby.
+
+"I allus lived in de house with the white folks and ate at their table
+when they was through, and slep' on the floor. We never had no school or
+church in slavery time. The niggers couldn' even add. None of us knowed
+how ole we was, but Massa set our ages down in a big book.
+
+"I 'member playin' peep-squirrel and marbles and keepin' house when I
+was a chile. Massa 'lowed the boys and girls to cou't but they couldn'
+marry 'fore they was 20 years ole, and they couldn' marry off the
+plantation. Slaves warn't married by no Good Book or the law, neither.
+They'd jes' take up with each other and go up to the Big House and ask
+massa to let them marry. If they was ole enough, he'd say to the boy,
+'Take her and go on home.'
+
+"Mammy lived 'cross the field at the quarters and there was so many
+nigger shacks it look like a town. The slaves slep' on bunks of homemade
+boards nailed to de wall with poles for legs and they cooked on the
+fireplace. I didn' know what a stove was till after de War. Sometime
+they'd bake co'nbread in the ashes and every bit of the grub they ate
+come from the white folks and the clothes, too. I run them looms many a
+night, weavin' cloth. In summer we had lots of turnips and greens and
+garden stuff to eat. Massa allus put up sev'ral barrels of kraut and a
+smokehouse full of po'k for winter. We didn' have flour or lard, but
+huntin' was good 'fore de war and on Sat'day de men could go huntin' and
+fishin' and catch possum and rabbits and squirrels and coons.
+
+"The overseer was named Wade and he woke the han's up at four in the
+mornin' and kep' them in the field from then till the sun set. Mos' of
+de women worked in de fields like de men. They'd wash clothes at night
+and dry them by the fire. The overseer kep' a long coach whip with him
+and if they didn' work good, he'd thrash them good. Sometime he's pretty
+hard on them and strip 'em off and whip 'em till they think he was gonna
+kill 'em. No nigger ever run off as I 'member.
+
+"We never have no parties till after 'mancipation, and we couldn' go off
+de place. On Sundays we slep' or visited each other. But the white folks
+was good to us. Massa Hargrove didn' have no doctor but there wasn' much
+sickness and seldom anybody die.
+
+"I don' 'member much 'bout de War. Massa went to it, but he come home
+shortly and say he sick with the 'sumption, but he got well real quick
+after surrender.
+
+"The white folks didn' let the niggers know they was free till 'bout a
+year after the war. Massa Hargrove took sick sev'ral months after and
+'fore he did he tell the folks not to let the niggers loose till they
+have to. Finally they foun' out and 'gun to leave.
+
+"My pappy died 'fore I was bo'n and mammy married Caesar Peterson and
+'bout a year after de war dey moved to a farm close to Lee, but I kep'
+on workin' for de Hargroves for four years, helpin' missus cook and keep
+house.
+
+
+
+
+420288
+
+
+     TOBY JONES was born in South Carolina, in 1850, a slave of Felix
+     Jones, who owned a large tobacco plantation. Toby has farmed in
+     Madisonville, Texas, since 1869, and still supports himself, though
+     his age makes it hard for him to work.
+
+
+"My father's name was Eli Jones and mammy's name was Jessie. They was
+captured in Africa and brought to this country whilst they was still
+young folks, and my father was purty hard to realize he was a slave,
+'cause he done what he wanted back in Africa.
+
+"Our owner was Massa Felix Jones and he had lots of tobacco planted. He
+was real hard on us slaves and whipped us, but Missie Janie, she was a
+real good woman to her black folks. I 'members when their li'l
+curlyheaded Janie was borned. She jus' loved this old, black nigger and
+I carried her on my back whole days at a time. She was the sweetes' baby
+ever borned.
+
+"Massa, he lived in a big, rock house with four rooms and lots of shade
+trees, and had 'bout fifty slaves. Our livin' quarters wasn't bad. They
+was rock, too, and beds built in the corners, with straw moss to sleep
+on.
+
+"We had plenty to eat, 'cause the woods was full of possum and rabbits
+and all the mud holes full of fish. I sho' likes a good, old, fat possum
+cooked with sweet 'taters round him. We cooked meat in a old-time pot
+over the fireplace or on a forked stick. We grated corn by hand for
+cornbread and made waterpone in the ashes.
+
+"I was borned 'bout 1850, so I was plenty old to 'member lots 'bout
+slave times. I 'members the loyal clothes, a long shirt what come down
+below our knees, opened all the way down the front. On Sunday we had
+white loyal shirts, but no shoes and when it was real cold we'd wrap our
+feet in wool rags so they wouldn't freeze. I married after freedom and
+had white loyal breeches. I wouldn't marry 'fore that, 'cause massa
+wouldn't let me have the woman I wanted.
+
+"The overseer was a mean white man and one day he starts to whip a
+nigger what am hoein' tobacco, and he whipped him so hard that nigger
+grabs him and made him holler. Missie come out and made them turn loose
+and massa whipped that nigger and put him in chains for a whole year.
+Every night he had to be in jail and couldn't see his folks for that
+whole year.
+
+"I seed slaves sold, and they'd make them clean up good and grease their
+hands and face, so they'd look real fat, and sell them off. Of course,
+most the niggers didn't know their parents or what chillen was theirs.
+The white folks didn't want them to git 'tached to each other.
+
+"Missie read some Bible to us every Sunday mornin' and taught us to do
+right and tell the truth. But some them niggers would go off without a
+pass and the patterrollers would beat them up scand'lous.
+
+"The fun was on Saturday night when massa 'lowed us to dance. There was
+lots of banjo pickin' and tin pan beatin' and dancin', and everybody
+would talk 'bout when they lived in Africa and done what they wanted.
+
+"I worked for massa 'bout four years after freedom, 'cause he forced me
+to, said he couldn't 'ford to let me go. His place was near ruint, the
+fences burnt and the house would have been but it was rock. There was a
+battle fought near his place and I taken missie to a hideout in the
+mountains to where her father was, 'cause there was bullets flyin'
+everywhere. When the war was over, massa come home and says, 'You son
+of a gun, you's sposed to be free, but you ain't, 'cause I ain't gwine
+give you freedom.' So, I goes on workin' for him till I gits the chance
+to steal a hoss from him. The woman I wanted to marry, Govie, she 'cides
+to come to Texas with me. Me and Govie, we rides that hoss most a
+hundred miles, then we turned him a-loose and give him a scare back to
+his house, and come on foot the rest the way to Texas.
+
+"All we had to eat was what we could beg and sometimes we went three
+days without a bite to eat. Sometimes we'd pick a few berries. When we
+got cold we'd crawl in a breshpile and hug up close together to keep
+warm. Once in awhile we'd come to a farmhouse and the man let us sleep
+on cottonseed in his barn, but they was far and few between, 'cause they
+wasn't many houses in the country them days like now.
+
+"When we gits to Texas we gits married, but all they was to our weddin'
+am we jus' 'grees to live together as man and wife. I settled on some
+land and we cut some trees and split them open and stood them on end
+with the tops together for our house. Then we deadened some trees and
+the land was ready to farm. There was some wild cattle and hawgs and
+that's the way we got our start, caught some of them and tamed them.
+
+"I don't know as I 'spected nothin' from freedom, but they turned us out
+like a bunch of stray dogs, no homes, no clothin', no nothin', not
+'nough food to last us one meal. After we settles on that place, I never
+seed man or woman, 'cept Govie, for six years, 'cause it was a long ways
+to anywhere. All we had to farm with was sharp sticks. We'd stick holes
+and plant corn and when it come up we'd punch up the dirt round it. We
+didn't plant cotton, 'cause we couldn't eat that. I made bows and
+arrows to kill wild game with and we never went to a store for nothin'.
+We made our clothes out of animal skins.
+
+"We used rabbit foots for good luck, tied round our necks. We'd make
+medicine out of wood herbs. There is a rabbit foot weed that we mixed
+with sassafras and made good cough syrup. Then there is cami weed for
+chills and fever.
+
+"All I ever did was to farm and I made a livin'. I still makes one,
+though I'm purty old now and its hard for me to keep the work up. I has
+some chickens and hawgs and a yearling or two to sell every year.
+
+
+
+
+420173
+
+
+     AUNT PINKIE KELLY, whose age is a matter of conjecture, but who
+     says she was "growed up when sot free," was born on a plantation in
+     Brazoria Co., owned by Greenville McNeel, and still lives on what
+     was a part of the McNeel plantation, in a little cabin which she
+     says is much like the old slave quarters.
+
+
+"De only place I knows 'bout is right here, what was Marse Greenville
+McNeel's plantation, 'cause I's born here and Marse Greenville and Missy
+Amelia, what was his wife, is de only ones I ever belonged to. After de
+war, Marse Huntington come down from up north and took over de place
+when Marse Greenville die, but de big house burned up and all de papers,
+too, and I couldn't tell to save my life how old I is, but I's growed up
+and worked in de fields befo' I's sot free.
+
+"My mammy's name was Harriet Jackson and she was born on de same
+plantation. My pappy's name was Dan, but folks called him Good Cheer. He
+druv oxen and one day they show me him and say he my pappy, and so I
+guess he was, but I can't tell much about him, 'cause chillen then
+didn't know their pappys like chillen do now.
+
+"Most I 'members 'bout them times is work, 'cause we's put out in de
+fields befo' day and come back after night. Then we has to shell a
+bushel of corn befo' we goes to bed and we was so tired we didn't have
+time for nothin'.
+
+"Old man Jerry Driver watches us in de fields and iffen we didn't work
+hard he whip us and whip us hard. Then he die and 'nother man call
+Archer come. He say, 'You niggers now, you don't work good, I beat you,'
+and we sho' worked hard then.
+
+"Marse Greenville treated us pretty good but he never give us nothin'.
+Sometime we'd run away and hide in de woods for a spell, but when they
+cotch us Marse Greenville tie us down and whip us so we don't do it no
+more.
+
+"We didn't have no clothes like we do now, jes' cotton lowers and rubber
+shoes. They used to feed us peas and cornbread and hominy, and sometime
+they threw beef in a pot and bile it, but we never had hawg meat.
+
+"Iffen we took sick, old Aunt Becky was de doctor. They was a building
+like what they calls a hospital and she put us in there and give us
+calomel or turpentine, dependin' on what ailed us. They allus kep' the
+babies there and let de mammies come in and suckle and dry 'em up.
+
+"I never heered much 'bout no war and Marse Greenville never told us we
+was free. First I knows was one day we gwine to de fields and a man come
+ridin' up and say, 'Whar you folks gwine?' We say we gwine to de fields
+and then he say to Marse Greenville, 'You can't work these people,
+without no pay, 'cause they's as free as you is.' Law, we sho' shout,
+young folks and old folks too. But we stay there, no place to go, so we
+jes' stay, but we gits a little pay.
+
+"After 'while I marries. Allen Kelley was de first husban' what I ever
+owned and he die. Houston Edmond, he the las' husban' I ever owned and
+he die, too.
+
+"Law me, they used to be a sayin' that chillen born on de dark of de
+moon ain't gwineter have no luck, and I guess I sho' was born then!"
+
+
+
+
+420217
+
+
+[Illustration: Sam Kilgore]
+
+
+     SAM KILGORE, 92, was born a slave of John Peacock, of Williams
+     County, Tennessee, who owned one of the largest plantations in the
+     south. When he was eight years old, Sam accompanied his master to
+     England for a three-year stay. Sam was in the Confederate Army and
+     also served in the Spanish-American War. He came to Fort Worth in
+     1889 and learned cement work. In 1917 he started a cement
+     contracting business which he still operates. He lives at 1211 E.
+     Cannon St., Fort Worth, Texas.
+
+
+"You asks me when I's born and was I born a slave. Well, I's born on
+July 17, 1845, so I's a slave for twenty years, and had three massas.
+I's born in Williamson County, near Memphis, in Tennessee. Massa John
+Peacock owned de plantation and am it de big one! Dere am a thousand
+acres and 'bout a thousand slaves.
+
+"De slave cabins am in rows, twenty in de first row and eighteen in de
+second and sixteen in de third. Den dere am house servants quarters near
+de big house. De cabins am logs and not much in dem but homemade tables
+and benches and bunks 'side de wall. Each family has dere own cabin and
+sometimes dere am ten or more in de family, so it am kind of crowded.
+But massa am good and let dem have de family life, and once each week de
+rations am measure out by a old darky what have charge de com'sary, and
+dere am allus plenty to eat.
+
+"But dem eats ain't like nowadays. It am home-cured meat and mostly
+cornmeal, but plenty veg'tables and 'lasses and brown sugar. Massa
+raised lots of hawgs, what am Berkshires and Razorbacks. Razorback meat
+am 'sidered de best and sweetest.
+
+"De work stock am eighty head of mules and fifty head of hosses and
+fifteen yoke of oxen. It took plenty feed for all dem and massa have de
+big field of corn, far as we could see. De plantation am run on system
+and everything clean and in order, not like lots of plantations with
+tools scattered 'round and dirt piles here and there. De chief overseer
+am white and de second overseers am black. Stien was nigger overseer in
+de shoemakin' and harness, and Aunty Darkins am overseer of de spinnin'
+and weavin'.
+
+"Dat place am so well manage dat whippin's am not nec'sary. Massa have
+he own way of keepin' de niggers in line. If dey bad he say, 'I 'spect
+dat nigger driver comin' round tomorrow and I's gwine sell you.' Now,
+when a nigger git in de hands of de nigger driver it am de big chance
+he'll git sold to de cruel massa, and dat make de niggers powerful
+skeert, so dey 'haves. On de next plantation we'd hear de niggers
+pleadin' when dey's whipped, 'Massa, have mercy,' and sich. Our massa
+allus say, 'Boys, you hears dat mis'ry and we don't want no sich on dis
+place and it am up to you.' So us all 'haves ourselves.
+
+"When I's four years old I's took to de big house by young Massa Frank,
+old massa's son. He have me for de errand boy and, I guess, for de
+plaything. When I gits bigger I's his valet and he like me and I sho'
+like him. He am kind and smart, too, and am choosed from nineteen other
+boys to go to England and study at de mil'tary 'cademy. I's 'bout eight
+when we starts for Liverpool. We goes from Memphis to Newport and takes
+de boat, Bessie. It am a sailboat and den de fun starts for sho'. It am
+summer and not much wind and sometimes we jus' stand still day after day
+in de fog so thick we can't see from one end de boat to de other.
+
+"I'll never forgit dat trip. When we gits far out on de water, I's dead
+sho' we'll never git back to land again. First I takes de seasick and
+dat am something. If there am anything worser it can't be stood! It
+ain't possible to 'splain it, but I wants to die, and if dey's anything
+worser dan dat seasick mis'ry, I says de Lawd have mercy on dem. I can't
+'lieve dere am so much stuff in one person, but plenty come out of me. I
+mos' raised de ocean! When dat am over I gits homesick and so do Massa
+Frank. I cries and he tries to 'sole me and den he gits tears in he
+eyes. We am weeks on dat water, and good old Tennessee am allus on our
+mind.
+
+"When we gits to England it am all right, but often we goes down to de
+wharf and looks over de cotton bales for dat Memphis gin mark. Couple
+times Massa Frank finds some and he say, 'Here a bale from home, Sam,'
+with he voice full of joy like a kid what find some candy. We stands
+round dat bale and wonders if it am raised on de plantation.
+
+"But we has de good time after we gits 'quainted and I seed lots and
+gits to know some West India niggers. But we's ready to come home and
+when we gits dere it am plenty war. Massa Frank jines de 'Federate Army
+and course I's his valet and goes with him, right over to Camp
+Carpenter, at Mobile. He am de lieutenant under General Gordon and befo'
+long dey pushes him higher. Fin'ly he gits notice he am to be a colonel
+and dat sep'rates us, 'cause he has to go to Floridy. 'I's gwine with
+you,' I says, for I thinks I 'longs to him and he 'longs to me and can't
+nothing part us. But he say, 'You can't go with me this time. Dey's
+gwine put you in de army.' Den I cries and he cries.
+
+"I's seventeen years old when I puts my hand on de book and am a sojer.
+I talks to my captain 'bout Massa Frank and wants to go to see him. But
+it wasn't more'n two weeks after he leaves dat him was kilt. Dat am de
+awful shock to me and it am a long time befo' I gits over it. I allus
+feels if I'd been with him maybe I could save his life.
+
+"My company am moved to Birmingham and builds breastworks. Dey say Gen.
+Lee am comin' for a battle but he didn't ever come and when I been back
+to see dem breastworks, dey never been used. We marches north to
+Lexington, in Kentuck' but am gone befo' de battle to Louisville. We
+comes back to Salem, in Georgia, but I's never in no big battle, only
+some skirmishes now and den. We allus fixes for de battles and builds
+bridges and doesn't fight much.
+
+"I goes back after de war to Memphis. My mammy am on de Kilgore place
+and Massa Kilgore takes her and my pappy and two hundred other slaves
+and comes to Texas. Dat how I gits here. He settles at de place called
+Kilgore, and it was named after him, but in 1867 he moves to Cleburne.
+
+"Befo' we moved to Texas de Klu Kluxers done burn my mammy's house and
+she lost everything. Dey was 'bout $100 in greenbacks in dat house and a
+three hundred pound hawg in de pen, what die from de heat. We done run
+to Massa Rodger's house. De riders gits so bad dey come most any time
+and run de cullud folks off for no cause, jus' to be orn'ry and plunder
+de home. But one day I seed Massa Rodgers take a dozen guns out his
+wagon and he and some white men digs a ditch round de cotton field close
+to de road. Couple nights after dat de riders come and when dey gits
+near dat ditch a volley am fired and lots of dem draps off dey hosses.
+Dat ended de Klux trouble in dat section.
+
+"After I been in Texas a year I jines de Fed'ral Army for de Indian war.
+I's in de transportation division and drives oxen and mules, haulin'
+supplies to de forts. We goes to Fort Griffin and Dodge City and
+Laramie, in Wyoming. Dere am allus two or three hundred sojers with us,
+to watch for Indian attacks. Dey travels on hosses, 'head, 'side and
+'hind de wagon. One day de Sent'nel reports Indians am round so we gits
+hid in de trees and bresh. On a high ledge off to de west we sees de
+Indians travelin' north, two abreast. De lieutenant say he counted 'bout
+seven hundred but dey sho' missed us, or maybe I'd not be here today.
+
+"I stays in de service for seven years and den goes back to Johnson
+County, farmin' on de Rodgers place, and stays till I comes to Fort
+Worth in 1889. Den I gits into 'nother war, de Spanish 'merican War. But
+I's in de com'sary work so don't see much fightin'. In all dem wars I
+sees most no fightin', 'cause I allus works with de supplies.
+
+"After dat war I goes to work laborin' for buildin' contractors. I works
+for sev'ral den gits with Mr. Bardon and larns de cement work with him.
+He am awful good man to work for, dat John Bardon. Fin'ly I starts my
+own cement business and am still runnin' it. My health am good and I's
+allus on de job, 'cause dis home I owns has to be kept up. It cost
+sev'ral thousand dollars and I can't 'ford to neglect it.
+
+"I's married twict. I marries Mattie Norman in 1901 and sep'rates in
+1904. She could spend more money den two niggers could shovel it in. Den
+I marries Lottie Young in 1909, but dere am no chillens. I's never dat
+lucky.
+
+"I's voted ev'ry 'lection and 'lieves it de duty for ev'ry citizen to
+vote.
+
+"Now, I's told you everything from Genesis to Rev'lations, and it de
+truth, as I 'members it.
+
+
+
+
+420058
+
+
+[Illustration: Ben Kinchlow]
+
+
+     BEN KINCHLOW, 91, was the son of Lizaer Moore, a half-white slave
+     owned by Sandy Moore, Wharton Co., and Lad Kinchlow, a white man.
+     When Ben was one year old his mother was freed and given some
+     money. She was sent to Matamoras, Mexico and they lived there and
+     at Brownsville, Texas, during the years before and directly
+     following the Civil War. Ben and his wife, Liza, now live in
+     Uvalde, Texas, in a neat little home. Ben has straight hair, a
+     Roman nose, and his speech is like that of the early white settler.
+     He is affable and enjoys recounting his experiences.
+
+
+"I was birthed in 1846 in Wharton, Wharton County, in slavery times. My
+mother's name was Lizaer Moore. I think her master's name was Sandy
+Moore, and she went by his name. My father's name was Lad Kinchlow. My
+mother was a half-breed Negro; my father was a white man of that same
+county. I don't know anything about my father. He was a white man, I
+know that. After I was borned and was one year old, my mother was set
+free and sent to Mexico to live. When we left Wharton, we was sent away
+in an ambulance. It was an old-time ambulance. It was what they called
+an ambulance--a four-wheeled concern pulled by two mules. That is what
+they used to traffic in. The big rich white folks would get in it and go
+to church or on a long journey. We landed safely into Matamoros, Mexico,
+just me and my mother and older brother. She had the means to live on
+till she got there and got acquainted. We stayed there about twelve
+years. Then we moved back to Brownsville and stayed there until after
+all Negroes were free. She went to washing and she made lots of money at
+it. She charged by the dozen. Three or four handkerchiefs were
+considered a piece. She made good because she got $2.50 a dozen for men
+washing and $5 a dozen for women's clothes.
+
+"I was married in February, 1879, to Christiana Temple, married at
+Matagorda, Matagorda County. I had six children by my first wife. Three
+boys and three girls. Two girls died. The other girl is in Gonzales
+County. Lawrence is here workin' on the Kincaid Ranch and Andrew is
+workin' for John Monagin's dairy and Henry is seventy miles from Alpine.
+He's a highway boss. This was my first wife. Now I am married again and
+have been with this wife forty years. Her name was Eliza Dawson. No
+children born to this union.
+
+"The way we lived in those days--the country was full of wild game,
+deer, wild hogs, turkey, duck, rabbits, 'possum, lions, quails, and so
+forth. You see, in them days they was all thinly settled and they was
+all neighbors. Most settlements was all Meskins mostly; of course there
+was a few white people. In them days the country was all open and a man
+could go in there and settle down wherever he wanted to and wouldn't be
+molested a-tall. They wasn't molested till they commenced putting these
+fences and putting up these barbwire fences. You could ride all day and
+never open a gate. Maybe ride right up to a man's house and then just
+let down a bar or two.
+
+"Sometime when we wanted fresh meat we went out and killed. We also
+could kill a calf or goat whenever we cared to because they were plenty
+and no fence to stop you. We also had plenty milk and butter and
+home-made cheese. We did not have much coffee. You know the way we made
+our coffee? We just taken corn and parched it right brown and ground it
+up. Whenever we would get up furs and hides enough to go into market, a
+bunch of neighbors would get together and take ten to fifteen deer hides
+each and take 'em in to Brownsville and sell 'em and get their
+supplies. They paid twenty-five cents a pound for them. That's when we
+got our coffee, but we'd got so used to using corn-coffee, we didn't
+care whether we had that real coffee so much, because we had to be
+careful with our supplies, anyway. My recollection is that it was fifty
+cents a pound and it would be green coffee and you would have to roast
+it and grind it on a mill. We didn't have any sugar, and very rare thing
+to have flour. The deer was here by the hundreds. There was blue
+quail--my goodness! You could get a bunch of these blue top-knot quail
+rounded up in a bunch of pear and, if they was any rocks, you could kill
+every one of 'em. If you could hit one and get 'im to fluttering the
+others would bunch around him and you could kill every one of 'em with
+rocks.
+
+"We lived very neighborly. When any of the neighbors killed fresh meat
+we always divided with one another. We all had a corn patch, about three
+or four acres. We did not have plows; we planted with a hoe. We were
+lucky in raisin' corn every year. Most all the neighbors had a little
+bunch of goats, cows, mares, and hogs. Our nearest market was forty
+miles, at old Brownsville. When I was a boy I wo'e what was called
+shirt-tail. It was a long, loose shirt with no pants. I did not wear
+pants until I was about ten or twelve. The way we got our supplies, all
+the neighbors would go in together and send into town in a dump cart
+drawn by a mule. The main station was at Brownsville. It was thirty-five
+miles from where they'd change horses. They carried this mail to
+Edinburg, and it took four days. Sometimes they'd ride a horse or mule.
+We'd get our mail once a week. We got our mail at Brownsville.
+
+"The country was very thinly settled then and of very few white people;
+most all Meskins, living on the border. The country was open, no fences.
+Every neighbor had a little place. We didn't have any plows; we planted
+with a hoe and went along and raked the dirt over with our toes. We had
+a grist mill too. I bet I've turned one a million miles. There was no
+hired work then. When a man was hired he got $10 or $12 per month, and
+when people wanted to brand or do other work, all the neighbors went
+together and helped without pay. The most thing that we had to fear was
+Indians and cattle rustlers and wild animals.
+
+"While I was yet on the border, the plantation owners had to send their
+cotton to the border to be shipped to other parts, so it was transferred
+by Negro slaves as drivers. Lots of times, when these Negroes got there
+and took the cotton from their wagon, they would then be persuaded to go
+across the border by Meskins, and then they would never return to their
+master. That is how lots of Negroes got to be free. The way they used to
+transfer the cotton--these big cotton plantations east of here--they'd
+take it to Brownsville and put it on the wharf and ship it from there. I
+can remember seeing, during the cotton season, fifteen or twenty teams
+hauling cotton, sometimes five or six, maybe eight bales on a wagon. You
+see, them steamboats used to run all up and down that river. I think
+this cotton went out to market at New Orleans and went right out into
+the Gulf.
+
+"Our house was a log cabin with a log chimney da'bbed with mud. The
+cabin was covered with grass for a roof. The fireplace was the kind of
+stove we had. Mother cooked in Dutch ovens. Our main meal was corn bread
+and milk and grits with milk. That was a little bit coarser than meal.
+The way we used to cook it and the best flavored is to cook it
+out-of-doors in a Dutch oven. We called 'em corn dodgers. Now ash cakes,
+you have your dough pretty stiff and smooth off a place in the ashes and
+lay it right on the ashes and cover it up with ashes and when it got
+done, you could wipe every bit of the ashes off, and get you some butter
+and put on it. M-m-m! I tell you, its fine! There is another way of
+cookin' flour bread without a skillet or a stove, is to make up your
+dough stiff and roll it out thin and cut it in strips and roll it on a
+green stick and just hold it over the coals, and it sure makes good
+bread. When one side cooks too fast, you can just turn it over, and have
+your stick long enough to keep it from burnin' your hands. How come me
+to learn this was: One time we were huntin' horse stock and there was
+an outfit along and the pack mule that was packed with our provisions
+and skillets and coffee pots and things--we never did carry much stuff,
+not even no beddin'--the pack turned on the mule and we lost our skillet
+and none of us knowed it at the time. All of us was cooks, but that old
+Meskin that was along was the only one that knew how to cook bread that
+way. Sometimes we would be out six weeks or two months on a general
+round-up, workin' horse stock; the country would just be alive with
+cattle, and horses too. We used to have lots of fun on those drives.
+
+"I tell you, I didn't enjoy that 'court' at night. They got so tough on
+us you couldn't spit in camp, couldn't use no cuss words--they would
+sure 'put the leggin's on you' if you did!"
+
+Uncle Ben hitched his chair, and with much chuckling, recalled the
+"kangaroo court" the cowboys used to hold at night in camp. These
+impromptu courts were often all the fun the cowboys had during the long
+weeks of hunting stock in the open range country.
+
+"Oh, it was all in fun. Just catch somebody so we could hold court! They
+would have two or three as a jury. They would use me as sheriff and
+appoint a judge. The prisoner was turned over to the judge and whatever
+he said, it had to be carried out exactly. The penalty? Well,
+sometimes--it was owing to the crime--but sometimes they would put it up
+to about twenty licks with the leggin's. If they was any bendin' trees,
+they would lay you across the log. They got tough, all right, but we
+sure had fun. We had to salute the boss every mornin', and if we forgot
+it...! They never forgot it that night; you'd sure get tried in court.
+
+"We camped on the side of a creek one time, and we had a new man, a sort
+of green fellow. This new man unsaddled his horse by the side of the
+creek and he lay down there. He had on a big pair of spurs, and I was
+watchin' him and studyin' up some kind of prank to play on 'im. So I
+went and got me a string and tied one of his spurs to his saddle and
+then I told the boss what I'd done and he had one of the fellows put a
+saddle on and tie tin cups and pots on it and then they commenced
+shootin' and yellin'. This man with the saddle on went pitchin' right
+toward that fellow, and that man got up, scared to death, and started to
+run. He run the length of the string and then fell down, but he didn't
+take time to get up; he went runnin' on his all-fours as fur as he
+could, till he drug the saddle to where it hung up. He woulda run right
+into the creek, but the saddle held 'im back. We didn't hold kangaroo
+court over that! Nobody knowed who did it. Of course, they all knowed,
+but they didn't let on. But nobody ever got in a bad humor; it didn't do
+no good.
+
+"I've stood up of many a bad night, dozin'. It would be two weeks,
+sometimes, before we got to lay down on our beds. I have stood up
+between the wagon wheel and the bed (of the wagon) and dozed many a
+night. Maybe one or two men would come in and doze an hour or two, but
+if the cattle were restless and ready to run, we had to be ready right
+now. Sho! Those stormy nights thunderin' and lightnin'! You could just
+see the lightnin' all over the steers' horns and your horse's ears and
+mane too. It would dangle all up and down his mane. It never interfered
+with =you= a-tall. And you could see it around the steer's horns in the
+herd, the lightnin' would dangle all over 'em. If the hands (cowboys) or
+the relief could get to 'em before they got started to runnin', they
+could handle 'em; but if they got started first, they would be pretty
+hard to handle.
+
+"The first ranch I worked on after I left McNelly was on the =Banqueta= on
+the =Agua Dulce= Creek for the Miley boys, putting up a pasture fence. I
+worked there about two months, diggin' post holes. From there to the
+King Ranch for about four months, breaking horses. I kept travelin' east
+till I got back to Wharton, where my mother was. She died there in
+Wharton. I didn't stay with her very long. I went down to =Tres Palacios=
+in Matagorda County. I did pasture work there, and cattle work. I worked
+for Mr. Moore for twelve years. Then he moved to Stockdale and I worked
+for him there eight years. From there, after I got through with Mr.
+Moore, I went back to =Tres Palacios= and I worked there for first one man
+and then another. I think we have been here at Uvalde for about
+twenty-three years.
+
+"I've been the luckiest man in the world to have gone through what I
+have and not get hurt. I have never had but two horses to fall with me.
+I could ride all day right now and never tire. You never hear me say,
+'I'm tired, I'm sleepy, I'm hongry.' And out in camp you never see me
+lay down when I come in to camp, or set down to eat, and if I =do=, I set
+down on my foot. I always get my plate in my hand and eat standin' up,
+or lean against the wagon, maybe.
+
+"When Cap'n. McNelly taken sick and resigned, I traveled east and picked
+up jobs of work on ranches. The first work after I left the Rio Grande
+was on the =Banqueta=, and then I went to work on the King Ranch about
+fifty miles southeast (?) of Brownsville. It wasn't fixed up in them
+days like it is now. But the territory is like it was then. They worked
+all Meskin hands. They were working about twenty-five or thirty Meskins
+at the headquarters' ranch. And the main =caporal= was a Meskin. His wages
+was top wages and he got twelve dollars a month. And the hands, if you
+was a real good hand, you got seven or eight dollars a month, and they
+would give you rations. They would furnish you all the meat you wanted
+and furnish you corn, but you would have to grind it yourself for bread.
+You know, like the Meskins make on a =metate=. You could have all the
+home-made cheese you want, and milk. In them days, the Meskins didn't
+have sense enough to make butter. I seen better times them days than I
+am seein' now. We just had a home livin'. You could go out any time and
+kill you anything you wanted--turkeys, hogs, javalinas, deer, 'coons,
+'possums, quail.
+
+"I'll tell you about a Meskin ranch I worked on. It was a big lake. It
+covered, I reckin, fifty acres, and these little Meskin huts just
+surrounded that big lake. And fish! My goodness, you could just go down
+there and throw your hook in without a bait and catch a fish. That was
+what you call the =Laguna de Chacona=. That was out from Brownsville
+about thirty-five miles. That ranch was owned by the old Meskin named
+Chacon, where the lake got its name.
+
+"It seems funny the way they handled milk calves--you know, the
+men-folks didn't milk cows, they wouldn't even fool with 'em. They would
+have a great big corral and maybe they would have fifteen or twenty cows
+and they would be four or five families go there to milk. Every calf
+would have a rawhide strap around his neck about six foot long. Now,
+instead of them makin' a calf pen--of evenin's the girls would go down
+there and I used to go help 'em--they would pull the calf up to the
+fence and stick the strap through a crack and pull the calf's head down
+nearly to the ground where he couldn't suck. Of course, the old cow
+would hang around right close to the calf as she could git. When they
+let the calf suck, they'd leave 'im tied down so he couldn't suck in the
+night. They always kep' the cows up at night and they'd leave the calves
+in the pen with 'em, but tied down. But buildin' just what you call a
+calf pen, they'd set posts in the ground just like these stock pens at
+the railroad and lay the poles between 'em. Then again, they would dig a
+trench and set mesquite poles so thick and deep, why, you couldn't push
+it down!
+
+"Now, in dry times, they would have a =banvolete= (ban-bo-la-te). Hand me
+two of them sticks, mama. Now, you see, like here would be the well and
+you cut a long stick as long as you could get it, with a fork up here in
+this here pole, and have this here stick in the fork of the pole. They'd
+bolt the cross piece down in the fork of the pole that was put in the
+ground right by the well, and have it so it would work up and down.
+They'd be a weight tied on the end of the other pole and they could sure
+draw water in a hurry. I made one out here on the Anderson Ranch. Just
+as fast as you could let your bucket down, then jerk it up, you had the
+water up. The well had cross pieces of poles laid around it and cut to
+fit together.
+
+"Now, about the other way we had to draw water. We had a big well, only
+it was fenced around to keep cattle from gettin' in there. The reason
+they had to do that, they had a big wheel with footpieces, like steps,
+to tread, and you would have the wheel over the well and they had about
+fifteen or twenty rawhide buckets fastened to a rope (that the wheel
+pulled it went around), and when they went down, they would go down in
+front of you. You had to sit down right behind the wheel, and you would
+push with your feet and pull with your hands, and the buckets came up
+behind you and as they went up, they would empty and go back down. They
+had some way of fixin' the rawhide. I think they toasted it, or scorched
+the hide to keep it hard so the water wouldn't soak it up and get it
+soft. That was on that place, the Chacona Lakes. That old Meskin was a
+native of the Rio Grande and run cattle and horses. In them days, you
+could buy an acre of land for fifty cents, river front, all the land you
+wanted. Now that land in that valley, you couldn't buy it for a hundred
+dollars an acre.
+
+"Did I tell you about diggin' that pit right in the fence of our corn
+patch to catch javalines? The way we done, why, we just dug a big pit
+right on the inside of the field, right against the fence, and whenever
+they would go through that hole to go in the corn patch, they would drop
+off in that hole. I think we caught nine, little and big, at one
+trappin' once. It was already an old trompin' place where they come in
+and out, and we had put the pit there. But after you use it, they won't
+come in there again.
+
+"You see, I tell you about them brush fences. The deer had certain
+places to go to that fence to jump it, and after we found the regular
+jumpin' place, we would cut three sticks--pretty good size, about like
+your wrist, about three foot long--and peel 'em and scorch 'em in the
+fire and sharpen the ends right good and we would go to set our traps.
+We would put these three sharp sticks right about where the forefeet of
+the deer would hit. You'd just set the sticks about four inches from
+where his forefeet would hit the ground, and you'd set the sticks
+leanin' towards the brush fence, and they would be one in the center and
+two on the side and about two inches apart. When he jumped, you would
+sure get 'im right about the point of the brisket. He'd hardly ever
+miss 'em, and you'd find 'im right there. Oh, sometimes he'd pull up a
+stick and run a piece with it, but he didn't run very far.
+
+"I been listenin' to the radio about Cap'n McNelly and I tell you it
+didn't sound right to me. In what way? Why, they never was no cattle on
+the steamboats down the Rio Grande. I just tell you they was no way of
+shippin' cattle on a steamboat. They couldn't get 'em down the hatch and
+they couldn't keep 'em on deck and they wasn't no wharf to load 'em,
+either. I was there and I seen them boats too long and I =know= they never
+shipped no cattle on them steamboats. After they crossed the Rio Grand
+into Mexico, they might have been shipped from some port down there, but
+all them cattle they crossed was =swum= across. They was big boats, but
+they wasn't no stock boats. They shipped lots of cotton on them
+steamboats, but they wasn't fixed to ship no cattle. They was up there
+for freight and passengers. The passengers was going on down the Gulf,
+maybe to New Orleans. They would get on at Brownsville. The steamboats
+couldn't go very fur up the river only in high water, but they could
+come up to Brownsville all the time.
+
+"I was in the Ranger service for about a year with Captain McNelly, or
+until he died. I was his guide. I was living thirty-five miles above
+Brownsville. I was working for a man right there on the place by the
+name of John Cunningham. It was called Bare Stone. You see, hit was a
+ranch there. McNelly was stationed there after the government troops
+moved off. They had 'em (the troops) there for a while, but they never
+did do no good, never did make a raid on nothin'. I was twenty or
+twenty-one. How come me to get in with McNelly, they had a big meadow
+there, a big 'permuda' (Bermuda) grass meadow. Me and another fellow
+used to go in there, and John Cunningham furnished Cap'n McNelly hay for
+his horses. That's how come me to get in with 'im. Fin'ly, he found out
+I knew all about that country and sometimes he would come over there and
+get me to map off a road, though they wasn't but one main road right
+there. So, one day I was over in the camp with 'im and I say, 'Cap'n,
+how would you like to give me a job to work with you?' He said, 'I'd
+like to have you all right, but you couldn't come here on state pay, and
+under =no responsibility=.' I told 'im that was all right. I knew how I
+was going to get my money, 'cause I gambled. Sometimes I would have a
+hundred or a hundred, twenty-five dollars. Durin' the month I would win
+from the soljers dealin' monte or playin' seven-up. They wasn't no craps
+in them days. We played luck too; we never had no shenanigans,
+a-stealin' a man's money. If you had a good streak o' luck, you made
+good; if you didn't, you was out o' luck. Sometimes, I had up as high as
+twenty-five or thirty dollars.
+
+"One thing about the cap'n, he'd tell his men--well, we had a sutler's
+shop right across from our camp, all kinds of good drinks--and he would
+tell his men he didn't care how much they drank but he didn't want any
+of 'em fighting'. He kep' 'em under good control.
+
+"You see, they was all dependin' on me for guidin'. There was no way
+for them cow rustlers or bandits to get to the cow ranches after they
+crossed the river (Rio Grande) excep' to cross that road for there was
+no other way for 'em to get out there. You see, there was where it would
+be easy for me, pickin' up a trail. I would just follow that road on if
+I had a certain distance to go, and if I didn't find no trail I would
+come back and report, and if I would find a trail he would ask me how
+many they was and where they was goin', and I would tell 'im which way,
+'cause I didn't know exactly where they was goin' to round-up. He would
+always give 'em about two or three days to make the round-up from the
+time that trail crossed. And we always went to meet 'em, or catch 'em at
+the river. We got into two or three real bad combats.
+
+"The worst one was on Palo Alto Prairie, one of Santa Anna's battle
+grounds. About twelve or fifteen miles east of old Brownsville. They was
+sixteen of the bandits and they was fifteen of 'em killed--all Meskins
+excep' one white man. One Meskin escaped. The cap'n just put 'em all up
+together in a pile and sent a message to Brownsville to the authorities
+and told 'em where they was at and what shape they was in. They must
+have had two hundred or two hundred and twenty-five head (of cattle)
+with 'em. It was open country and they would get anybody's cattle. They
+just got 'em off the range.
+
+"They mostly would cross that road at night, and by me gettin' out early
+next mornin' and findin' that trail, I could tell pretty much how old it
+was. I reckon that place wasn't over thirteen miles from Brownsville and
+our camp was thirty-five miles, I guess it must have been twenty-five
+miles from our camp to where we had that battle. We sure went there to
+get 'em. I trailed them horses and I knowed from the direction they was
+takin' that they was goin' to those big lakes called Santa Lalla. They
+was between Point Isabel and Brownsville and that made us about a
+forty-five mile ride to get to that crossin', to a place called Bagdad,
+right on the waters of the Rio Grande.
+
+"We got our lunch at Brownsville and started out to go to this crossin'.
+I knowed right about where this crossin' was and I says to the cap'n,
+'Don't you reckon I better go and see if they was any sign?' We stayed
+there about three hours and didn't hear a thing. And then the cap'n
+said, 'Boys, we better eat our lunch'. While we was eatin', we heard
+somebody holler, and he said, 'Boys, there they are.' And he said to me,
+'Ben, you want to stay with the horses or be in the fun?' And I said, 'I
+don't care.' So he said, 'You better stay with the horses; you ain't
+paid to kill Meskins! I went out to where the horses were. The rangers
+were afoot in the brush. It was about an hour from the time we heard the
+fellow holler before the cattle got there. When the rangers placed
+themselves on the side of the road, the Meskins didn't know what they
+was goin' to get into!
+
+"The Meskins was all singin' at the top of their voices and they was
+comin' on in. The cap'n waited till they went to crossin' the herd, he
+waited till these rustlers all got into the river behind the cattle, and
+then the cap'n opened fire on the bandits. They didn't have no possible
+show. They was in the water, and he just floated 'em down the river.
+They was one man got away. I saw 'im later, and he told me about it. The
+way he got away, he says he was a good swimmer and he just fell off his
+horse in the water and the swift water took 'im down and he just kep'
+his nose out of the water and got away that way. They was fo'teen in
+that bunch, I know.
+
+"The echo of the shootin' turned the cattle back to the American side.
+The lead cattle was just gettin' ready to hit the other side of the
+river when the shootin' taken place and the echo of the shootin' turned
+'em and they come back across. Now, in swimmin' a bunch of cattle, if
+you pop your whip, you are just as liable to turn 'em back, or if you
+holler the echo might turn 'em back. It'll do that nearly every time.
+
+"After the fight, the cap'n says to the boys, 'Well, boys, the fun is
+all over now, I guess we'd better start back to camp.' And they all
+mounted their horses and begun singin':
+
+  "O, bury me not on the lone prairie-e-e
+    Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me-e-e,
+  Right where all the Meskins ought to be-e-e!"
+
+
+
+
+420949
+
+
+[Illustration: Mary Kindred]
+
+
+     MARY KINDRED was a slave on the Luke Hadnot plantation in Jasper,
+     Texas. She does not know her age but thinks she is about 80. She
+     now lives in Beaumont, Texas.
+
+
+"My mind don't dwell back. The older I gits the lessen I thinks 'bout
+the old times. I ain't gittin' old. I's done got old. I not been one of
+them bad, outlawed fellers, so de good Lawd done 'low me live a long
+time. Some things I knows I heered from my mother and my grandma. They
+so fresh to them in that time, though, I mostly sure they's truth.
+
+"My mother name was Hannah Hadnot and my daddy was Ruffin Hadnot and he
+used to carry the mail from Weiss Bluff to Jasper. They waylay him 'long
+the road in 1881 and kill him and rob the mail.
+
+"Luke Hadnot was our old massa. He good to my grandma and give her
+license for a doctor woman. Old massa must of thought lots of her,
+'cause he give her forty acres of land and a home fer herself. That
+house still standin' up there in Jasper, yet.
+
+"Grandma used to sing a li'l song to us, like this:
+
+  "'One mornin' in May,
+  I spies a beautiful dandy,
+  A-rakin' way of de hay.
+  I asks her to marry.
+  She say, scornful, 'No.'
+  But befo' six months roll by
+  Her apron strings wouldn't tie
+  She wrote me a letter,
+  She marry me then,
+  I say, no, no, my gal, not I.'
+
+"Grandma git de bark offen de thorn tree and bile it with turpentine for
+de toothache. She used herbs for de medicine and they's good.
+
+"Old missy was tall and slim, a rawbone sort of woman. Her name was
+Matilda Hadnot. Massa have as big a still as ever I seed and dey used to
+make everything there. They has it civered with boards they rive out the
+woods. There wasn't no revenuers in dem days.
+
+"Us gits de groceries by steamboat and the wagons go down the old
+Bevilport Road to the steamboat landin'. That the Ang'leen River. One
+the biggest boats was own by Capt. Bryce Hadnot, the 'Old Grim.'
+
+"I 'member back durin' the war the people couldn't git no coffee. They
+used to take bran and peanuts and okra seed and sich and parch 'em for
+coffee. It make right drinkable coffee. They gits sugar from the store
+or the sugar cane. When they buy it, it's in a big, white lump what they
+calls 'sugar loaf.' When they has no sugar they uses the syrup to
+sweeten the coffee and they call syrup 'long sweetenin' and sugar,
+'short sweetenin'.
+
+"Us has lots of dances with fiddle and 'corjum player. Us sing, 'Swing
+you partner, Promenade.' Another li'l song start out:
+
+  "'Dinah got a meat skin lay away,
+  Grease dat wooden leg, Dinah.
+  Grease dat wooden leg, Dinah.
+    Shake dat wooden leg, Dinah,
+    Shake dat wooden leg, Dinah.'
+
+I 'members this song:
+
+  "'Down in Shiloh town,
+  Down in Shiloh town,
+  De old grey mare come
+  Tearin' out de wilderness.
+  Down in Shiloh town,
+    O, boys, O,
+    O, boys, O,
+  Down in Shiloh town.'
+
+"I's seed lots of blue gum niggers and they say iffen they bite you dey
+pizen you. They hands diff'rent from other niggers. Now, my hand's right
+smart white in the inside, but blue gum nigger hand is more browner on
+the inside.
+
+"I used to have a old aunt name Harriett and iffen she tell you anythin'
+you kin jes' put it down it gwineter come out like she say. She have the
+big mole on the inside her mouth and when she shake her finger at you it
+gwine happen to you jes' like she say. That what they call puttin' bad
+mouth on them and she sho' could do it.
+
+"I's had 12 chillen. My first husban was Anthony Adams and the last
+Alfred Kindred. I only got three chillen livin' now, though. One of the
+sons am the outer door guard of the lodge here in Beaumont.
+
+
+
+
+420311
+
+
+     NANCY KING, 93, was born in Upshur County, Texas, a slave of
+     William Jackson. She and her husband moved to Marshall, Texas, in
+     1866. Nancy now lives with her daughter, Lucy Staples.
+
+
+"I was borned and raised on William Jackson's place, jus' twelve miles
+east of Gilmer. I was growed and had one child at surrender, and my
+mother told me I was a woman of my own when Old Missie sot us free, jus'
+after surrender, so you can figurate my age from that.
+
+"My first child was borned the January befo' surrender in June, and I
+'members hoeing in the field befo' the war come on. Massa William raised
+lots of cotton and corn and tobacco and most everything we et. I never
+worked in the field, 'cept to chase the calves in, till I was most
+growed. Massa was good to us. Course, I never went to school, but Old
+Missie sent my brother, Alex, two years after the war, with her own
+chillen.
+
+"I was married durin' the war and it was at church, with a white
+preacher. Old Missie give me the cloth and dye for my weddin' dress and
+my mother spun and dyed the cloth, and I made it. It was homespun but
+nothin' cheap 'bout it for them days. After the weddin' massa give us a
+big dinner and we had a time.
+
+"Massa done all the bossin' his own self. He never whipped me, but Old
+Missie had to switch me a little for piddlin' round, 'stead of doin'
+what she said. Every Sat'day night we had a candy pullin' and played
+games, and allus had plenty of clothes and shoes.
+
+"I seed the soldiers comin' and gwine to the war, and 'members when
+Massa William left to go fight for the South. His boy, Billie, was
+sixteen, and tended the place while massa's away. Massa done say he'd
+let the niggers go without fightin'. He didn't think war was right, but
+he had to go. He 'serts and comes home befo' the war gits goin' good and
+the soldiers come after him. He run off to the bottoms, but they was on
+hosses and overtook him. I was there in the room when they brung him
+back. One of them says, 'Jackson, we ain't gwine take you with us now,
+but we'll fix you so you can't run off till we git back.' They put red
+pepper in his eyes and left. Missie cried. They come back for him in a
+day or two and made my father saddle up Hawk-eye, massa's best hoss.
+Then they rode away and we never seed massa 'gain. One day my brother,
+Alex, hollers out, 'Oh, Missie, yonder is the hoss, at the gate, and
+ain't nobody ridin' him.' Missie throwed up her hands and says, 'O,
+Lawdy, my husban' am dead!' She knowed somehow when he left he wasn't
+comin' back.
+
+"Old Missie freed us but said we had a home as long as she did. Me and
+my husban' stays 'bout a year, but my folks stays till she marries
+'gain.
+
+"My brother-in-law, Sam Pitman, tells us how he put one by the Ku
+Kluxers. Him and some niggers was out one night and the Kluxers chases
+them on hosses. They run down a narrow road and tied four strands of
+grapevine 'cross the road, 'bout breast high to a hoss. The Kluxers come
+gallopin' down that road and when the hosses hit that grapevine, it
+throwed them every which way and broke some their arms. Sam used to
+laugh and tell how them Kluxers cussed them niggers.
+
+"Me and my husban' come to Marshall the year after surrender, and I is
+lived here every since. My man works on farms till he got on the
+railroad. I's been married four times and raised six chillen. The young
+people is diff'rent from what we was, but diff'rent times calls for
+diff'rent ways, I 'spect. My chillen allus done the best they could by
+me.
+
+
+
+
+420272
+
+
+     SILVIA KING, French Negress of Marlin, Texas, does not know her
+     age, but says that she was born in Morocco. She was stolen from her
+     husband and three children, brought to the United States and sold
+     into slavery. Silvia has the appearance of extreme age, and may be
+     close to a hundred years old, as she thinks she is, because of her
+     memories of the children she never saw again and of the slave ship.
+
+
+"I know I was borned in Morocco, in Africa, and was married and had
+three chillen befo' I was stoled from my husband. I don't know who it
+was stole me, but dey took me to France, to a place called Bordeaux, and
+drugs me with some coffee, and when I knows anything 'bout it, I's in de
+bottom of a boat with a whole lot of other niggers. It seem like we was
+in dat boat forever, but we comes to land, and I's put on de block and
+sold. I finds out afterwards from my white folks it was in New Orleans
+where dat block was, but I didn't know it den.
+
+"We was all chained and dey strips all our clothes off and de folks what
+gwine buy us comes round and feels us all over. Iffen any de niggers
+don't want to take dere clothes off, de man gits a long, black whip and
+cuts dem up hard. I's sold to a planter what had a big plantation in
+Fayette County, right here in Texas, don't know no name 'cept Marse
+Jones.
+
+"Marse Jones, he am awful good, but de overseer was de meanest man I
+ever knowed, a white man name Smith, what boasts 'bout how many niggers
+he done kilt. When Marse Jones seed me on de block, he say, 'Dat's a
+whale of a woman.' I's scairt and can't say nothin', 'cause I can't
+speak English. He buys some more slaves and dey chains us together and
+marches us up near La Grange, in Texas. Marse Jones done gone on ahead
+and de overseer marches us. Dat was a awful time, 'cause us am all
+chained up and whatever one does us all has to do. If one drinks out of
+de stream we all drinks, and when one gits tired or sick, de rest has to
+drag and carry him. When us git to Texas, Marse Jones raise de debbil
+with dat white man what had us on da march. He git de doctor man and
+tell de cook to feed us and lets us rest up.
+
+"After 'while, Marse Jones say to me, 'Silvia, am you married?' I tells
+him I got a man and three chillen back in de old country, but he don't
+understand my talk and I has a man give to me. I don't bother with dat
+nigger's name much, he jes' Bob to me. But I fit him good and plenty
+till de overseer shakes a blacksnake whip over me.
+
+"Marse Jones and Old Miss finds out 'bout my cookin' and takes me to de
+big house to cook for dem. De dishes and things was awful queer to me,
+to what I been brung up to use in France. I mostly cooks after dat, but
+I's de powerful big woman when I's young and when dey gits in a tight
+[Handwritten Note: 'place?'] I helps out.
+
+"'Fore long Marse Jones 'cides to move. He allus say he gwine git where
+he can't hear he neighbor's cowhorn, and he do. Dere ain't nothin' but
+woods and grass land, no houses, no roads, no bridges, no neighbors,
+nothin' but woods and wild animals. But he builds a mighty fine house
+with a stone chimney six foot square at de bottom. The sill was a foot
+square and de house am made of logs, but dey splits out two inch plank
+and puts it outside de logs, from de ground clean up to de eaves. Dere
+wasn't no nails, but dey whittles out pegs. Dere was a well out de back
+and a well on de back porch by de kitchen door. It had a wheel and a
+rope. Dere was 'nother well by de barns and one or two round de
+quarters, but dey am fixed with a long pole sweep. In de kitchen was de
+big fireplace and de big back logs am haul to de house. De oxen pull dem
+dat far and some men takes poles and rolls dem in de fireplace. Marse
+Jones never 'low dat fire go out from October till May, and in de fall
+Marse or one he sons lights de fire with a flint rock and some powder.
+
+"De stores was a long way off and de white folks loans seed and things
+to each other. If we has de toothache, de blacksmith pulls it. My
+husband manages de ox teams. I cooks and works in Old Miss's garden and
+de orchard. It am big and fine and in fruit time all de women works from
+light to dark dryin' and 'servin' and de like.
+
+"Old Marse gwine feed you and see you quarters am dry and warm or know
+de reason why. Most ev'ry night he goes round de quarters to see if dere
+any sickness or trouble. Everybody work hard but have plenty to eat.
+Sometimes de preacher tell us how to git to hebben and see de ring
+lights dere.
+
+"De smokehouse am full of bacon sides and cure hams and barrels lard and
+'lasses. When a nigger want to eat, he jes' ask and git he passel. Old
+Miss allus 'pend on me to spice de ham when it cure. I larnt dat back in
+de old country, in France.
+
+"Dere was spinnin' and weavin' cabins, long with a chimney in each end.
+Us women spins all de thread and weaves cloth for everybody, de white
+folks, too. I's de cook, but times I hit de spinnin' loom and wheel
+fairly good. Us bleach de cloth and dyes it with barks.
+
+"Dere allus de big woodpile in de yard, and de big, caboose kettle for
+renderin' hawg fat and beef tallow candles and makin' soap. Marse allus
+have de niggers take some apples and make cider, and he make beer, too.
+Most all us had cider and beer when we want it, but nobody git drunk.
+Marse sho' cut up if we do.
+
+"Old Miss have de floors sanded, dat where you sprinkles fine, white
+sand over da floor and sweeps it round in all kinds purty figgers. Us
+make a corn shuck broom.
+
+"Marse sho' a fool 'bout he hounds and have a mighty fine pack. De boys
+hunts wolves and painters (panthers) and wild game like dat. Dere was
+lots of wild turkey and droves of wild prairie chickens. Dere was
+rabbits and squirrels and Indian puddin', make of cornmeal. It am real
+tasty. I cooks goose and pork and mutton and bear meat and beef and deer
+meat, den makes de fritters and pies and dumplin's. Sho' wish us had dat
+food now.
+
+"On de cold winter night I's sot many a time spinnin' with two threads,
+one in each hand and one my feets on de wheel and de baby sleepin' on my
+lap. De boys and old men was allus whittlin' and it wasn't jes'
+foolishment. Dey whittles traps and wooden spoons and needles to make
+seine nets and checkers and sleds. We all sits workin' and singin' and
+smokin' pipes. I likes my pipe right now, and has two clay pipes and
+keeps dem under de pillow. I don't aim for dem pipes to git out my
+sight. I been smokin' clost to a hunerd years now and it takes two cans
+tobaccy de week to keep me goin'.
+
+"Dere wasn't many doctors dem days, but allus de closet full of simples
+(home remedies) and most all de old women could git med'cine out de
+woods. Ev'ry spring, Old Miss line up all de chillen and give dem a
+dose of garlic and rum.
+
+"De chillen all played together, black and white. De young ones purty
+handy trappin' quail and partridges and sech. Dey didn't shoot if dey
+could cotch it some other way, 'cause powder and lead am scarce. Dey
+cotch de deer by makin' de salt lick, and uses a spring pole to cotch
+pigeons and birds.
+
+"De black folks gits off down in de bottom and shouts and sings and
+prays. Dey gits in de ring dance. It am jes' a kind of shuffle, den it
+git faster and faster and dey gits warmed up and moans and shouts and
+claps and dances. Some gits 'xhausted and drops out and de ring gits
+closer. Sometimes dey sings and shouts all night, but come break of day,
+de nigger got to git to he cabin. Old Marse got to tell dem de tasks of
+de day.
+
+"Old black Tom have a li'l bottle and have spell roots and water in it
+and sulphur. He sho' could find out if a nigger gwine git whipped. He
+have a string tie round it and say, 'By sum Peter, by sum Paul, by de
+Gawd dat make us all, Jack don't you tell me no lie, if marse gwine whip
+Mary, tell me.' Sho's you born, if dat jack turn to de laft, de nigger
+git de whippin', but if marse ain't makeup he mind to whip, dat jack
+stand and quiver.
+
+"You white folks jes' go through de woods and don't know nothin'. Iffen
+you digs out splinters from de north side a old pine tree what been
+struck by lightnin', and gits dem hot in a iron skillet and burns dem to
+ashes, den you puts dem in a brown paper sack. Iffen de officers gits
+you and you gwine have it 'fore de jedge, you gits de sack and goes
+outdoors at midnight and hold de bag of ashes in you hand and look up
+at de moon--but don't you open you mouth. Nex' mornin' git up early and
+go to de courthouse and sprinkle dem ashes in de doorway and dat law
+trouble, it gwine git tore up jes' like de lightnin' done tore up dat
+tree.
+
+"De shoestring root am powerful strong. Iffen you chews on it and spits
+a ring round de person what you wants somethin' from, you gwine git it.
+You can git more money or a job or most anythin' dat way. I had a black
+cat bone, too, but it got away from me.
+
+"I's got a big frame and used to weigh a hunerd pounds, but day tells me
+I only weighs a hunerd now. Dis Louis Southern I lives with, he's de
+youngest son of my grandson, who was de son of my youngest daughter. My
+marse, he knowed Gen. Houston and I seed him many a time. I lost what
+teeth I had a long time ago and in 1920 two more new teeth come through.
+Dem teeth sho' did worry me and I's glad when dey went, too.
+
+
+
+
+List of Transcriber's Corrections:
+
+
+List of Illustrations: 285 (#290#)
+
+Page 2: come (wooden dishes. Some de knives and forks was make out of
+bone. Dey had beef and pork and turkey and #some# antelope.)
+
+Page 4: bit (all through dat house. I takes de lantern and out in de
+hall I goes. Right by de foot de stairs I seed a woman, #big# as life,
+but she was thin and I seed right through her. She jes' walk on down dat
+hall and pay me no mind. She make de sound)
+
+Page 7: was that a (slavery, 'cause massa give me a sack of molasses
+candy once and some biscuits once and that #was a# whole lot to me
+then.)
+
+Page 9: kepps (daren't tell them 'cept on the sly. That I done lots. I
+tells 'em iffen they #keeps# prayin' the Lord will set 'em free. But
+since them days I's done studied some and I preached all over Panola and
+Harrison County and)
+
+Page 18: bit (piles, one for de big house and de bigges' pile for de
+slaves. When dey git it all hauled it look like a #big# woodyard. While
+dey is haulin', de women make quilts and dey is wool quilts. Course, dey
+ain't made out of shearin' wool,)
+
+Page 19: sich (Course, I hears some talk 'bout bluebellies, what dey
+call de Yanks, fightin' our folks, but dey wasn't fightin' round us. Den
+one dey mamma took #sick# and she had hear talk and call me to de bed
+and say, 'Lucinda, we all gwine be free soon and not)
+
+Page 24: neber ("I seem jes' punyin' away, de doctors don' know jes'
+what's wrong wid me but I #never# was use to doctors anyway, jes' some
+red root tea or sage weed and sheep)
+
+Page 29: was ("After #war# was over, old massa call us up and told us we
+free but he 'vise not leave de place till de crop was through. Us all
+stay. Den)
+
+Page 30: suddent (for justice. One man, he look jus' like ordinary man,
+but he spring up 'bout eighteen feet high all of a #sudden#. Another say
+he so thirsty he ain't have no water since he been kilt at Manassas
+Junction. He ask)
+
+Page 42: (what lives at West Columbia. Massa Kit on one side Varney's
+Creek and Massa Charles on de other side. Massa Kit have a #African#
+woman from Kentucky for he wife, and dat's de truth. I ain't sayin'
+iffen she a)
+
+Page 43: goiin' (Where you gwine to go? I's #goin'# down to new ground,
+For to hunt Jim Crow.')
+
+Page 71: hus' ("We lived in a log house with dirt floors, warm in winter
+but sho' hot in summer, no screens or nothin', #jus'# homemade doors. We
+had homemade beds out of planks they picked up around. Mattresses
+nothin', we had shuck beds.)
+
+Page 72: bit (whole sack of pure gold and silver, and say bury it in de
+orchard. I sho' was scart, but I done what she said. Dey was more gold
+in a #big# desk, and de Yanks pulled de top of dat desk and got de gold.
+Miss Jane had a purty gold ring on)
+
+Page 79: of (the place, they still go up to the big house for a pass.
+They jus' can't understand 'bout the freedom. Old Marse #or#Missus say,
+'You don't need no pass. All you got to do is jus' take you foot in you
+hand and go.')
+
+Page 84: ahd ("They had a church this side of New Fountain #and# the
+boss man 'lowed us to go on Sunday. If any of the slaves did join, they
+didn')
+
+Page 99: of (cornmeal mush and corn hominy and corn grits and parched
+corn for drink, 'stead of tea #or# coffee. Us have milk and 'lasses and
+brown sugar, and some meat. Dat all raise on de place. Stuff for to eat
+and wear, dat)
+
+Page 114: Pennslyvania (my sister and got in the soldier business. The
+gov'ment give me $30.00 a month for drivin' a four-mule wagon for the
+army. I druv all through #Pennsylvania# and Virginia and South Carolina
+for the gov'ment. I was a&mdash;&mdash;what)
+
+Page 116: Sue ("My mother sold into slavery in Georgia, or round dere.
+#She# tell me funny things 'bout how dey use to do up dere. A old white
+man think so much of)
+
+Page 123: turpentime (doctor. When us chillun git sick dey git yarbs or
+dey give us castor oil and #turpentine#. Iffen it git to be a ser'ous
+ailment dey sen' for de reg'lar doctor. Dey uster)
+
+Page 130: Missisippi (Hedwig, Bexar Co., Texas, the son of slave parents
+bought in #Mississippi# by his master, William Gudlow.)
+
+Page 133: Hallejujah! (crossin' and walkin' and ridin'. Everyone was
+a-singin'. We was all walkin' on golden clouds. #Hallelujah!#)
+
+Page 140: tey ("I's too old to make any more visits, but I would like to
+go back to Old Georgia once more. If Missy Mary was 'live, I'd #try#,
+but she am dead, so I tries to wait for old Gabriel blow he horn. When
+he blow he)
+
+Page 141: 1959 ("When I's a gal, I's Rosina Slaughter, but folks call me
+Zina. Yes, sar. It am Zina dat and Zina dis. I says I's born April 9,
+#1859#, but I 'lieve I's older. It was somewhere in Williamson County,
+but I don't)
+
+Page 145: mercy me (when we got a chance to see young folks on some
+other place. The patterrollers cotched me one night and, Lawd have
+#mercy on me#, they stretches me over a log and hits thirty-nine licks
+with a rawhide loaded with rock, and every time they hit)
+
+Page 147: ot ("I's farmed and makin' a livin' is 'bout all. I come over
+here in Madison County and rents from B.F. Young, clost #to# Midway and
+gits me a few cows. I been right round here ever since. I lives round
+with my chillen now,)
+
+Page 158: Whnen ("#When# surrender come massa calls all us in de yard
+and makes de talk. He tells us we's free and am awful sorry and show
+great worryment. He say)
+
+Page 166: live (is cared for by a married daughter, who #lives# on
+Lizzie's farm.)
+
+Page 171: nand (to tell the people to be prepared, 'cause the tides of
+war is rollin' this way, #and# all the thousands of millions of dollars
+they spend agin it ain't goin' to stop it. I live to tell people the
+word Gawd speaks through me.)
+
+Page 195: wuarters ('bout fightin' and the overseer allus tended to her.
+One day he come to the #quarters# to whip her and she up and throwed a
+shovel full of live coals from the fireplace in his bosom and run out
+the door. He run her all over)
+
+Page 199: tann ("After breakfast I'd see a crew go here and a crew go
+dere. Some of 'em spin and weave and make clothes, and some #tan# de
+leather or do de blacksmith work, and mos' of 'em go out in de field to
+work. Dey works till dark and den)
+
+Page 200: botin' ("No, I's never voted, 'cause I done heared 'bout de
+trouble dey has over in Baton Rouge 'bout niggers #votin'#. I jus' don't
+like trouble, and for de few years what am left, I's gwine keep de
+record of stayin' 'way from it.)
+
+Page 221: be ("Old massa he never clean hisself up or dress up. He look
+like a vagrant thing and #he# and missy mean, too. My pore daddy he back
+allus done cut up from the whip and bit by the dogs. Sometime when a
+woman big)
+
+Page 235: stockn's (and I come in with two li'l pickininnies for flower
+gals and holdin' my train. I has on one Miss Ellen's dresses and red
+#stockin's# and a pair brand new shoes and a wide brim hat. De preacher
+say, 'Bill, does you take dis woman to be you lawful)
+
+Page 236: dey (jes' kep' right on livin' in de old home after freedom,
+like old Marse done 'fore freedom. He pay de families by de #day# for
+work and let dem work land on de halves and furnish dem teams and grub
+and dey does de work.)
+
+Page 242: iplot ("My daddy am de gold #pilot# on de old place. Dat mean
+anything he done was right and proper. Way after freedom, when my daddy
+die in Beaumont,)
+
+Page 254: wat ("I never heered much 'bout no #war# and Marse Greenville
+never told us we was free. First I knows was one day we gwine to de
+fields and a man)
+
+Page 258: Bermingham ("My company am moved to #Birmingham# and builds
+breastworks. Dey say Gen. Lee am comin' for a battle but he didn't ever
+come and when I been back)
+
+Page 258: to (a three hundred pound hawg in de pen, what die from de
+heat. We done run to Massa Rodger's house. De riders gits #so# bad dey
+come most any time and run de cullud folks off for no cause, jus' to be
+orn'ry and plunder de home. But one)
+
+Page 273: coudn't (through a crack and pull the calf's head down nearly
+to the ground where he #couldn't# suck. Of course, the old cow would
+hang around right close)
+
+Page 278: McNeely ("I was in the Ranger service for about a year with
+Captain #McNelly#, or until he died. I was his guide. I was living
+thirty-five miles)
+
+Page 287: whay (have the big mole on the inside her mouth and when she
+shake her finger at you it gwine happen to you jes' like she say. That
+#what# they call puttin' bad mouth on them and she sho' could do it.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: a Folk History of
+Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves., by Work Projects Administration
+
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