Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

"Benton Hill?" he said. "Sure, it's hanted. I seen things and heard things there lots of times. Good gosh amighty! One night we was driving through dere and we heard something dat sound like a woman just a screaming. Old man Ousbery was with me and he wanted to stop and see what it was but I says, 'No you don't. Drive on. You don't know what dat might be.' Another time we's driving by there, and dey was a great big mule just standing cross de road and he just wouldn't move. I says, 'Just drive on and he'll get out of de way.' But he didn't. When we gets to him, he just parts right in de middle and half stands on one side and half on de other. We didn't look 'round. No, mo'--we just made dat hoss go.

"I don't know what makes dem hants round there--lessen it's de gold what's buried dere. And you know de spirits always come back fer gold. Sure dey's money buried dere. Didn't you all know dat? Lots of folks is dug there, but dey ain't never found it. Why dey is holes 'round dere where men's been digging for dat gold.

"Dey was one man had a-what you call it? A 'vinin' rod. That points to where things is hid. But he didn't find it neither. And then out by de Maberry place, close to Gordonville--who-e-e--I's sure enough seen things out dere lots of times. You know where dat clump of peach trees is at de corner of de fence? Dey always seems to come from right there. I worked out there for a long time. We'd get out to work early, sometimes 'twasn't good and day.

"One morning I's coming along there, on a hoss I was, and I met a hossman. He looks funny to me and when he asks me something I says, 'Git on. I ain't talking to you!' But he says, 'Wait, I wants to talk to you!' As I says, he looks funny to me and I pulls out my pistol. I always carries my gun, and I think if he makes a pass at me I'll git him. But I goes on without looking back. Now just dat one man is all I seen, but when I gets past, dey is lots of talking like dey is six or eight men. But I didn't look back.

"One morning I'd got out there real early, too early to go into de field and I thinks I'll rest awhile under de tree. I had my eyes shut for a while when something bothered me. When I opened up my eyes there was a lot a strange hosses standing 'round me in a ring. I jumped up and hollered, 'git out'. Dey turned and ran and dey run right off a steep bank on the other side of de field."

"Did you see them down there?" he was asked.

"Cose I never, nobody else never neither, dey wasn't dere, dat's why," he answered.

"Lord, when I thinks of de way we used to work. Out in de field before day and work till plumb dark. My boss would say, 'George take two men, or maybe three men, and git dat field plowed, or dat woods patch cleared'. And he knowed if he tell me, de work would be done.

"And I worked at anything. One time I steamboated for eight years. But what do dese young folks know 'bout work? Nuthin'! Look at dat grandson of mine, just crossed de porch--why he's fourteen and he can't even use a ax. Too young? Go on with you!

"I tells you dese young folks just don't know how to work. Dey has too much studying up here (pointing to his head and making motions like wheels going round.) When I's his age I's working at anything I could find. I worked on a farm and on a steamboat, I carried cross ties--just anything where I could earn money. And I saved money, too. When we bought dis house I had $2,400 saved up. And men was stronger in dem days and had better health.

"Dese young folks want too easy living. And dey ain't brung up to show respect to old folks like we is. If I goes down de walk and a bunch young folks is coming along, I knows I's got to step out of de way--'cause dey won't give any. And if some little ones on roller skates is coming down de sidewalk--you better git off or dey'll run right into you.

"I was tellin' you 'bout Miss Katie coming to see me, wasn't I? Well just last week her boy come to see me. He's maybe 25 or 30 year old. Somebody told him 'bout me and he come here and he sit right dar on de porch fer a hour and talk with me. He was a fine young man, he was."

*Interview with George Bollinger*
*[TR: by Mollie E. Smith].*

NOTE: George Bollinger and his family live in a nice one-and-one-half story house, which they own. They have always been industrious people and their home is nicely kept. George is 84 years old and seems to enjoy life. He was glad to talk over "old times", especially after he recognized me, (The "Me" being Mollie E. Smith) and recalled that he used to work in my grandfather's Tan Yard. George Bollinger is living at 320 N. Spriggs St., Cape Girardeau, Missouri.

"We lived out on de edge o' Bollinger County. 'Ole Massa's' name was 'Dal Bollinger'. 'Ole Missus,' we always called, "Aunt Polly". Den day wuz young 'Massa Dave,' and young 'Missie Katie'.

"My Pappy's name wuz 'Bollinger' 'en my mammy wuz 'Temple'. My pappy wuz a smart man. He cud read and write. I don't know whar he learned it. An' he had de power, my daddy did. He cud break a 'Hoodoo' spell, an' he cud tell things dat happened wen he diden see it--If one a' de folks went to town he cud tell 'em jes everything dey don dere.

"Dey wuz 'bout 20, mebby 25, slaves on de place, 'en we all lived in a big, old log house. My mammy wus a good cook 'en she cud spin en weave. She made all de clothes we wore. Us chilluns never wore no pants--jes sumpin like a long shirt made o' homespun. We didden know nuthin' 'bout learnin'. Dey wuz a church, but we didden go much, 'en we never had no kind 'er gatherin's. Dey wouldn' let de cullered folks congregate--no, shu, why, even de man over at de store wouldn't let mo' dan two cullud folks come in at a time.

"I didden even know what money wuz. Massa' had a chest 'bout three feet long--up in a little attic. It wuz jes' full o' gold 'en silver money--no 'greenbacks'. It wuz covered over wif rugs, 'en I never know'd what wuz in dere--we used to go up der to play sumtimes on rainy days, an Aunt Polly'd holler, 'Ef you don' cum down fum dere de ghosts 'ul git ye'. I never seed inside de chest 'till dey bury it--dat wuz in war-time. Dey put a big hand spike under it 'en de men carry it down by de sugar grove de udder side o' de graveyard. I cud go, right now 'en show you de very spot dey bury it. De bes' times we-ens had wuz going fishing, an' man! did we like to fish. Allus we had Saturday atternoon off, 'lessen it wer wheat harvest 'er sumthin' special like. 'En Sunday's we allus fished all day long.

"One time day wuz two hundred sojers cum to our place--dey wuz Southerners, an' dey wuz nearly starved. Massa tole 'em _dey_ cud kill dat big steer. Dey shoots him 'en 'fore he drops dey wuz on him; skinnin' him. By dat time udders had a fire built 'en de men pull out dey knives 'en dey cut off hunks; dey puts 'em on a stick 'en hol's 'em ovar de fire a few minutes--didden give 'em time to cook thru fore dey et it. Dat ole steer didden last long. 'En 'Massa' had ten cribs 'er corn. He tole' em to ---- dey selves. 'Bout dat time a dispatch came, dat de "Yankees" wuz commin'. Dey went up to meet 'em, 'an dey had a battle over at Patton. Long 'bout midnight sum of 'em came back, wounded. Aunt Polly helped 'em, but she begged 'em not to stay dere, or de "Yankees" cum in, burn de house down.

"Aunt Polly 'en mammy allus know'd whut to do when a body wuz ailin'. Dey allus had a bag o' yarbs hangin' under de porch. When de sojers wuz commin' we allus hid de hosses. Massa' had lots ob 'em, 'en Missie ---- had de pudttiest black mare. It's name wuz 'Kate'. Des one time de hosses musta skered 'er sumpin--de sojers foun' 'em, an' here dey com ridin' up past de house wid every on of our hosses.

"A sojer wuz ridin' 'Black Kate'. Wen 'Missie Katie' see dat--she holler, and she ran an' grab hol' de bridles, on han' on each side 'er his haid. De sojer put spurs to de mare, but she hung on jes a cryin'. I kin jes see her now; de mare a rarin' and 'Missie ---- hangin on a-cryin'. She hung on till dey reach de creek. Den she lose her grip, but she sho' did cry.

"One night we had a big corn shuckin'. We shucked 'till way late in de nite: den sum de white men stay all nite. Day wuz a pile 'er shucks higher'en dat door. Nex' mornin' a bunch o' "Yankees" cum by. As dey wuz comin' thru' de yard, dey see one man runnin' to hide behin' de barn. Dey say; "Halt", but de man keep runnin'; so dey fire--de bullet thru' his had and he stop. Den dey say: "If day's one man, dey's more a hiddin.' Dey looks roun', den de haid man say: 'Men ride thru' dat pile 'er shucks 'en ---- in dey hair. Den de sojers asks 'em things 'en iff'n de answers didden seem good; dey hit 'em over de haid wid dere guns. I wuz standin' right here, an' I saw 'Ole Massa' git hit on de haid once, den anudder time: an' he fell. I sho' thot he wuz daid, but warn't. Aunt Polly fix him up atter de sojers wuz gone, but de bushwackers got him.

"Dey must a heerd about de chest o' money he had buried. Dey try to make him tell; but he wouldn't. Den dey put 'er rope 'roun' his neck an' pulls him up. Den dey lets him down: but he wouldn' tell no how--so dey finished him.

"Yes, de' nigger buyers ust'a cum roun' our place. It was sight to see! Dere 'ud be mebbe five 'or six men a'ridin' fine hosses an a-drivin' a whole flock 'er slaves along de rode; jes' like stock, all chained togedder.

"On time dere wuz Pete Smith, 'Ole Tom Johnson, an' Fred an' Sam Daughery; all niggar buyers--dey wuz at our place an' dey wud all sit dar, an' us slaves had to stan' up in front o' em, an' dey'd bid on us. I 'members I wuz full chested an' dey laid a stick across my chest to see how straight I cud stan'. 'Ole Pete' Smith wuz gonna' buy me; but my young folks begged 'Massa' not to sell me, 'cause we'd all played togedder--so he didden' sell me.

"But dey wuz gonna buy my 'pappy' an take him way off, but, my 'pappy' was smart. He had made baskets at night an' sold 'em when he cud, 'en saved de money--dat night he goes to de fireplace an' lifts up a stone; an' out o' de hole he pulls out a bag a' money an' he runs away. I ain't never seed my 'pappy' since. Las' I hurd a' him he was in 'Indiana.' When Mista Lincoln made his Proclamation (dat wuz 'fore de war wuz over), young Massa' Dave set us free. He gave us a yoke of oxen an' a wagon full o' everythin' we needed. Der wuz a feather bed 'en quilts an' meat an' purvisions--an' he sent us into de Cape--an we been livin' roun' here ever since.

"All my white folks is daid 'cept 'Missie Kattie', an' do you know, some year back: she cum to see me. Yessir; her car druv up, right der, to de sidewalk, an' she made all her grandchillun get out an' shake han's wif me. She sho' wuz a fine woman!

"'Ku Klux?' Yes, dey wuz aroun' sometime', but dey didden bother ef you mind your own bizness. But de darkies better not congregate; 'caus' day shore take 'em out an' flag' em. If dey ketch you at a neighbor's house atter dar, you shore better have a pass fum yo' 'Massa.'"

Annie Bridges

*Interview with Annie Bridges,*
*age 81, Farmington, Missouri.*

"I's born on March 6, 1855; on Wolf Crick, in St. Francois County. My muthuh, Clausa McFarland Bridges, wuz borned on Wolf Crick too, but mah fauthar, Jerry Bridges, kum from Californie. William McFarland wuz our boss, and he had a lotta' slaves. Us liv'd in a log cabin, with two rooms. Yep, there wuz a floor an' we had a bed, but hit hadn't no mattress; jus' roped an' cord'd. Holes wuz in de side ob de bed, soo's de ropes cud go thru'. We all wore 'jeans' an' wrap'd an' ole sack 'round our legs; most time we went barefoot. We al's used catnip tea ta cure mos' ever'thing. Our boss wuz purty good ta us, but we larned dat ole M.P. Cayce, he wuz a slaveholder, wud beat 'Hunter' Cayce, an' ole 'nigger' man, every Monday mornin' 'til his back bled. Den he tuk salt an' put hit in de gashes. My brudders war, Alvin, Jerry, Rubin, Louis, an' Nat. Ma sista' Mary, she went to Rolla an' married. Me an' ma bruvver Jerry air de only ones a-livin'.

"I married Overdie Southerland wen I wuz 26 years ole. Abe Koen married us, but we are not a-livin' togeth'r now. I never had no childr'n by him. Ma furst job wuz with Dr. Jim Braham fur one year, an' nine months. I got $2.50 a week. I did all de housework thar.

"After de war wuz over my muthuh went to Pilot Knob to wurk in a hotel. Me, an' my muthuh went hup on Pilot Knob, berry huntin', one day, an' we seen de leg ob a man an' his ankle bone wuz stickin' in his shoe. Thar warn't any flesh on de leg. Hit wuz near de ole Fort (Fort Davidson)." (Note: This must have been a portion of a soldier, from the Battle of Pilot Knob!)

"Ma muthuh tole' me dat dey used ta sell de little childr'n away fum de breasts ob der muthuh's. Ma muthuh plow'd in de fiel' an' wud leave her baby layin' at one end ob de fiel', while she plow'd clear ta de odder end an' kum back. She know'd a man who had a child by one ob his slaves an' den sole de chil' as a slave. Wasn't dat turrible, sellin' his own son?

"De young folks calls us 'ole fogies', but we knew how ta act, an' lots ob de young-un's don't know dat now. When I wuz growin' hup we had company an' would hav' ta wait 'til de ol' folks wuz thru' eatin' 'fore we cud eat. Sum' ob my muthuh's friens' kum one day with their 'redique'; ([TR: reticule] bags which held knitting and sewing, and were tied with a draw-string, at the top.) "They war eatin' an' I wuz sittin' on a ladder dat led hup to de attic. I come down de ladder and wuz sittin' near de bottom an' dese grown people's was eatin', den dey lean back ta rest a-while, den eat a little more, an' res' a-while. I had ta sit dare an' watch dem. After a-while I says: 'My time now'. Well, jus' for dat, my muthuh give me one ob de worse whippin's dat I ever had. Sometimes I had ta stan' in de closet, or stan' on de floor an' hol' one foot, when I wuz punished.

"Ma muthuh's stepfather wuz poisen'd in whiskey. His name wuz 'Charlie Gipson'. Onc't a man held hup a bottle an' said: 'I'm drinkin' de poisen off'. But he wuz puttin' de pois'n in. After dat, Charlie Gipson drank de whiskey out ob de bottle an' in nine months he wuz daid.

"Simon cud call de snakes an' dey wud kum frum all directions. He wud tak' de skins ob dese snakes an' put dem on de roof ob de shed, an' den when dey wuz dry, he wud mak' powder out ob dem an' 'hoodoo' people.

"We all went tuh a pahty one time an' Scot Cole's sistah et a big apple thar. After a little while, she died. So's ma muthuh tole us to not eat anythin' dat people give you; hit might be poisen'd.

"I'se been tole dat if people dies satisfied, dey don' kum bak, but if dey don' dies satisfied, dey kum back. But I never seed nothin'."

(One of the religious songs used to be):

"Jesus in his chariot rides
He had three white horses side by side
When Jesus reached the mountain top
He spoke one word, the chariot stop
He's the lily of the valley, O my Lord."

(Following, is a 'Love Song' she sang; which she learned as a girl when attending play-parties):

"I'm wandering down to Graybrook Town,
Where the drums and fifes are beating
The Americans have gained the day
And the British are retreating.

My pretty little pink,
I used to think that you and I would marry,
But since you told me so many faults
I care nothing about you.

I'll take my knapsack on my back
My rifle on my shoulder
I'll open up a ring and choose a couple in
To relieve the broken hearted."

(Following is a song she learned as a child):

"I'll tune up my fiddle
I'll rosin my bow
I'll make myself welcome
Wherever I go

Rye whiskey, rye whiskey,
Ain't no friend of mine,
He killed my old daddy
And he injured my mind."

(Following is a song she learned as a child):

"Rain, rain, rain all around
Ain't goin' rain no more
And what did the blackbird say to the crow?
You bring rain, and I'll bring snow

Rain, rain, rain all around
Ain't goin' a-rain no more
Old Hawk and buzzard went to roost
The hawk came back with a loosened tooth.

Rain, rain, rain all around
Ain't goin' a-rain no more
I had an old hat and it had a crown,
Look like a duck's nest sittin' on the ground.

Rain, rain, rain all around,
Ain't goin' a-rain no more."

(Following is a speech she gave as a small child) [HR: Not ex-slave]:

"I love the cheerful summertime,
With all the birds and flowers.
I love the gentle flowing streams,
I love the evening breeze,
I love to go to school.

To read, write and spell
I love my teacher's smile again
And get my lessons well."

(Following is a speech given as a child) [HR: not ex-slave--white version]:

"Hear the children gayly shout
Half past four, school is out
Merry, merry, playful girls and boys
Thinking of games and toys
Slates, sleds, dolls and books
Oh how happy each one looks
'Now for snowballs', Harry cried
And to hit his sister tried
Sister Flora full of fun
With her little hand making one
At her brother Harry threw
Swift it flew and hit his nose
'Have I hurt you brother dear?'
Asked his sister running near
'No indeed', said he
'This is only sport for me.'"

(Following is a familiar prayer when she was a child) [HR: not ex-slave]:

"Savior, tender shepherd hear me
Bless the little lambs tonight
Through the darkness be they nearest
Watch my sleep 'til morning light
Bless the friends I love so well
Take me when I die to heaven
Happy there with thee to dwell."

(Following is a very familiar song:)

"'Dear mother,' said a little fish
'Pray, is this naughty fly
I am very hungry and I wish
You would let me go and try.'

'Sweet innocence', the mother cried,
And started from her nook,
'The hurried fly is but to hide
The sharpness of the hook'.

So he thought he'd venture out
To see if it was true
Around about the hook he played
With many a long look.

'Dear me', to himself he said
'I'm sure it's not a hook'
So as he fainter, fainter grew
With hallowed voice, he cried,
'If I had minded you
I would not then have died'."

_Following are some old riddles, they may be of no value._

Riddle--'I rode over the bridge, and yet I walked.'
Answer--'Yet I' was the name of the dog with me.

Riddle--'Big at the bottom
Little at the top,
Something in the middle
Goes flippity flop.'
Answer--Churn.

Riddle--'Way down yonder in the meadow is a little red heifer.
Give'r her some hay she will eat it.
Give'r her some water she will die.'
Answer--Fire.

Riddle--'I went over Hefil Steeple
Then I met a heap of people
Some were k-nick
Some were k-nack
Some were the color of brown tobacco
They were neither men, women, nor children.'
Answer--Bees.

(Note:--Annie Bridges is quite a character. When giving her speeches and singing her songs she dramatizes them while walking across the room. She is hard of hearing and can be heard for quite a distance. She receives an old-age pension. She is considered by many, a sort of nuisance around town, since she is always begging for something. Some are afraid of her.)

(Following is a song of Abraham Lincoln she sang):

"If it hadn't been for Uncle Abraham
What would we a'done?

Been down in de cotton field,
Pickin' in de sun."

Betty Brown

*Interview with Betty Brown,*
*Cape Girardeau Co., Missouri.*

"In de ole days we live in Arkansas, in Greene County. My mammy wuz Mary-Ann Millan, an' we belong to 'Massa' John Nutt, an' 'Miss' Nancy.'

"Our white folks live in a big double house, wid a open hall between. It wuz built of hewed logs an' had a big po'ch on de wes' side. De house stood on Cash rivuh, at the crossroads of three roads; one road go tuh Pocahontas, one tuh Jonesburg, an' one tuh Pie-Hatten (Powhatan).

"Now whut fo' you wanna' know all dem things? Air ye tryin' to raise de daid? Some o' 'em, ah don' wanna see no mo', an' some o' 'em ah wants to stay whar dey is. Pore mammy! Ah shore had one sweet muthuh, an' ah wants huh to stay at rest.

"De wuz jus' us one family o' cullud folks on de place. You see, 'Miss' Nancy' hired us fum her fathuh, 'Ole Massa Hanover. Jes' mah mammy an' huh chillern. She had five, 'fore de war wuz ovuh. Our daddy; he wuz an Irishman, name Millan, an' he had de bigges' still in all Arkansas. Yes'm, he had a white wife, an' five chillern at home, but mah mammy say he like huh an' she like him. You say ah don' look half white? Maybe I's fadin'.

"We live in a little ole log house, it wuz so low a big feller had to stoop to git in. Our folks wus mighty good tuh us, an' we stayed dar wid 'um after we's freed.

"Ah don' rightly know how old ah is, but de priest writ' it all down fo' me, when ah's gittin' mah pension. Sho' ah's a Catholic. Is they anything else? Fo' fifteen year ah tended de Catholic church, swept an' dusted, an' cleaned, but ah's too ole fo' dat now, an' ah's po'ly in mah back, cain't git 'round like dat no mo'.

"We lived de ole-time way of livin', mammy done de cookin an' we had plenty good things to eat. Mammy made all de clothes, spinnin', an' weavin' an' sewin'. Ah larned to spin when ah wuz too little tuh reach de broach, an' ah could hep her thread de loom. An' mammy wuz a shoe-maker, she'd make moccasins for all o' us.

"Two o' the Nutt boys made shoes too, heavy, big ones dey wuz; but dey kep' our feet warm in winter.

"An' dey had a tan hand. Ah uste wade barefooted in dem pits an' work wid dem hides, but ah wouldn't wanna do it now.

"Dey wuz a grove o' post-oak timber, 'bout five, or six acres, all cleaned out; an' in der, dey raised bear cubs. Why, dey raised 'em tuh eat. Lawd! dat's good eatin'. Jes' gimme s' bear meat an' den let me go tuh sleep! M-m-m!

"They wuz fruit trees planted all 'long de road, planted jes' like fence-posts for 'bout a mile, an' all de fruit dat fell in de road de hogs got, we'ens could go get any of it, any time, an' travelers, 'long de road, was a'way's welcome ter hep dey selves. 'Massa' nevuh planted no shade trees. Iffen trees wuz planted dey had to be fruit trees. 'Ceptin' de holly bush, he like dat 'cause it's green in winter.

"They wuz some flowers 'round de house. Snow-balls, batchelor-buttons, old-maids; jes' such old-fashion ones, no roses, n'er nuthin' like dat.

"Massa' raise some cotton, but 'Ole Massa' Hanover had sech a big cotton patch yuh couldn't look across it. An' dey all kind'a fowls yu'd find any where's, guinie's, ducks, n' geese, n' turkey's, n' peafowl's, an' lotsa chicken's a' 'cose.

"My mamma could hunt good ez any man. Us'tuh be a coup'la pedluh men come 'round wuth they packs. My mammy'd a'ways have a pile o' hides tuh trade with 'em fer calico prints n' trinkets, n' sech-like, but mos'ly fo' calico prints. She'd have coon hides n' deer n' mink, n' beavers, lawd! I kin still hear dem beavers splashin' 'round dat dam. Dis time 'er marning' dey's a'way's shore busy. An' folks in cities goes tuh pawks now to see sech animal. Hun! Ah seen all 'em things ah wants tuh see.

"Good Lawd! We didden' know whut church wuz n'er school nuther, an' the whites nevuh nuther. Dey wuz a couple o' men us'ta come by, an' hole a camp meetin'. Dey'd build a big arbuh, with branches o' leaves over de top, an' build benches; dey'd come aftuh crops wuz laid by, an' preach 'til cotton wuz openin'. Ah never know'd whut sect dey belong to, n'er whar dey go, n'er what dey come fum 'nuther.

"Yes'm, we seed sojers, an' we seed lot's o' 'em. Dah wuz de 'blue-coats'; some o' de folks call'em Bluebelly Yank's, dey had fine blue coats an' the brass buttons all ovuh the front o' 'em shinin' like stahs. Dey call us little cullud folks', 'cubs', an' dey burn down Jonesburg. Yes'm we seed Jonesburg down in ashes. Dem 'blue-coats' wuz devils, but de 'gray-coats' wuz wusser. Dey turn over our bee-gums an' dey kill our steers, an' carry off our provisions, an' whut dey couldn't carry off dey ruint. Den dey go roun' killin' all de cullud men an' bayanettin' de chillern.

"No, dat wuzzen' de 'gray-coats' doin' de killin', dat wuz 'bushwackers' an' 'Ku Klux'ers', dey sho' wuz bad. Dey shot my little sistuh in back of her neck an' day shot me in de laig. See dat scar, dat whar dey shoot me. An' dey kill my gran'fathuh; dey sho' did.

"Gran'fathuh's name wuz 'Jim Hanover'. 'Ole Massa Hanover', he wuz a lawyer, an' he educated mah gran'fathuh tuh be a overseuh. He lived wid' 'Massa Hanover' for long time. He wuz a good man, mah gran'fathuh wuz, an' he wuz smart too, an' when de war surrenduh, dey make him Mayor of Pie-hatten, an' he made a good mayor too; people all said so, an' dey wuz gonna' 'lect him fo' foe mo' year, an' de 'Ku Klux'ers said dey wuzzen' gonna have no 'nigguh' mayor. So dey tuk him out an' killed him. Dey wuz awful times. Now you know dat wuzzen right an' who's de curse fo' such things gonna rest on?

"Ah disemembuh jes' when we come tuh Missouri, but it wuz when 'Hayes'[1], an' 'Wheeler' wuz 'lected President. Down in Arkansas dey say dey gonna make us all vote Democrat. My step-daddy say he die 'fore he vote Democrat.

[1] HR: Rutherford B. Hayes, 19th president, 1877-81.

"Der wuz two white men say dey'd get us to Cape Girda. Dey had two covered wagons, an' dey wuz forty-eight o' us cullud folks. We put our belongin's in de wagon. Dey wuz a coupl'a ole gramma's rode in de wagons, an' some little feller's, but de rest of us walk ever step o' de way. An' it rained on us ever' step o' de way. At night we'd lay down to sleep unduh de wagon so tired we nevuh even know'd it wuz rainin'.

"When we got to St. Francis Rivuh dey ferried us across on a big flat, an' had a rope tied across da rivuh to pull us ovuh. But we had to ford White Watuh, an Castuh rivuh, an' Niggerwool swamp. When we'd come to de rivuh de white man 'ud say: 'Ack like sojers'. De hosses 'ud swim across, pullin' de wagon, some o' de big folks 'ud grab hole' de feed box an' de rest 'ud each grab roun' de one in front an' dat way we fords de rivuhs, wid strings a' folk hangin' out behin' de wagons.

"Hoo-doos', ghosts's er signs? No mam! Ah don' believe in none of dat. Now you is tryin' to call up de devil. But wait! Ah kin tell you one sign dat ah knows is true. If de dog jes' lays outside de do' sleepin' an' has his haid inside de do', you's gonna git a new member in de family befo' de year is out. An' jes' de othuh way roun'. Ef de dog lays sleepin' inside de do' an' has his haid hangin' out, you's gwine a lose a 'membuh o' yuh family fo' de end a' de yeah.

"Dey wuz sumpin' funny happen when ma little girl die sometime ago. She wuz a sweet chile. She wuz stayin' wuth Miss' English on Henderson Ave., an' she lost her mind. Ah don' know whut's a matter wuth her, but ah brung her home to take keer o' her, but she don' get no bettuh. One day she's standin', lookin' out de front do' an' she holler: 'Heah dey's comin' aftuh me'. Ah don' know what she see, but she run to de back room an' stan' right dere.

"Her daddy an' me look at huh an' dar wuz a big ball o' fire hangin' ovuh her haid. We picked huh up, an' put huh to bed. We sent fo' de doctah an' fo' de priest, an' we got de nurse 'at we had when she fust took sick. I nevuh knowed whut wuz de mattuh with her. De priest wouldn't tell me, de doctuh wouldn't tell me, an' ah guess de nurse was ez green about it ez ah wuz. Some folks tell me she wuz conjured. Mah po' little girl".

Steve Brown

*Interview with Steve Brown,*
*Cape Girardeau, Mo.*

"Mista Joe Medley and his wife, Miss Addie was my young master and mistress. Old master John Medley done brung us from Kentucky when he moved from there to Cape County. I was jest a baby den. I never knowed nothin' 'bout my daddy.

"De white folks had a big log-house. It was an awful big house, with a big porch on de north side. They was some cedar trees in de yard and some fruit trees. Dey was a big log barn and split rail fences all around. Us little fellers had to help carry in de wood, and help do de feeding. Dey had lots of hosses, cows, and pigs.

"Dey was a separate house for de spinning and weaving. Cose all our clothes and shoes too, was made on de place. Massa was mighty good to his cullud folks. He never 'lowed none of 'em to be sold and I don't recollect ever seeing anyone getting whupped. No, we never had no gatherin's nor schools, nor nuthing of the kind.

"Massa had a fine big carriage and one Sunday he'd take all de white folks to church and de next Sunday, he put de cullud folks in de carriage and send dem to church. Dat's how come us to be Catholics. We come all de way to Cape, to St. Vincent's Church, down by de river. We lived away off dere in de backwoods and we didn't see much of sojers--jes' a few scattered ones come by after de skirmish at de Cape. When de war ended, we moved to de Cape and work on de college farm.

"When I's little de mostest fun we had was going fishing--we spent most of our time down dar by de branch and I guess de big folks was glad to have us out of de way."

Steve Brown lives at the end of Elm Street, Cape Girardeau.

Richard Bruner

*Interview with Richard Bruner,*
*Negro preacher, Nelson, Missouri.*

The subject of this sketch, Richard Bruner, is one of the oldest negroes in Saline County. He claims to be ninety-seven years old and lives in the little town of Nelson.

His humble dwelling, a gray and weathered frame building of about four rooms and two porches, sets in a square of yard thick with blue grass, old fashioned flowers like holly hocks, flowering pinks and marigolds making bright spots of color. Heavily laden fruit trees, apples, peaches, plums and pears shade every part of the plot. A splendid walnut tree towers over the smaller fruit trees, the house and the porch, while at the side of the house a garden spot contains a fine variety of vegetables.

As the writer approached, the old man was seated on a cot on the little porch. The wall back of him was hung with all kinds of tools, a saw, a hammer, bits of wire, a piece of rope, part of a bridle, and a wing, apparently from a big gray goose. His long curling, gray hair is neatly parted and brushed and he wears a mustache and short beard or chin whiskers, an unusual thing among negroes in this part of the country. His skin is a light brown color and his eyes bright with his second eyesight which enables him to look on the world without glasses.

Back of the house and down the hill, is a well equipped slaughter house, where for many years this old man has taken care of the butchering of the meat for his white friends and neighbors. He is too old now to take charge of this work, but the house and equipment is still in good repair.

This aged Negro has been for many years a highly respected preacher of the gospel. His own account of his life and adventures follows:

"Yes'm I remembers before de war, I remember being a water-boy to de field hands before I were big enough to work in de fields. I hoed tobaccer when I was about so high, (measuring with his hands about three and one half feet from the floor).

"Yes'm dey thrashed me once, made me hug a tree and whip me, I had a terrible temper, I'm part Choctaw Indian. We went to de white folks church on Sundays, when we went to camp meeting we all went to de mourners' bench together. De mourners' bench stretch clear across de front of de Arbor; de whites and de blacks, we all just fell down at de mourners' bench and got religion at de same place. Ole Marsa let us joine whichever church we wanted, either de Methodist or Baptist.

"No, I never went to no school, de colonel's daughter larnt me to write my name, that was after de wah. No'm, dey didn't care if we had dances and frolics. We had de dances down at de quarters and de white folks would come down and look on. Whenever us niggas on one plantation got obstreperous, white folks hawns dey blowed. When de neighbors heard dat hawn here dey come to help make dat obstreperous nigga behave. Dey blowed de hawn to call de neighbors if anybody died or were sick."

In response to the question as to where he joined the Federal Army, Bruner replied:

"Well you see I was a runaway nigga; I run away when I was about grown and went to Kansas. When de war broke out I joined de 18th United States Colored Infantry, under Capt. Lucas. I fit three years in de army. My old Marsa's two boys just older than me fit for de south. Dey was mighty good boys, I liked dem fine."

Robert Bryant

*Interview with Robert Bryant,*
*Herculaneum, Missouri.*

_Slave Married 4 Times_

"I was born out by Caledonia and is 75 years old. My mother came from another family. My old master bought her from another man. She died when I was about eight years old and my father died about forty years ago. His name was George Bryant but he went by de name of Brock. I was livin' in Pilot Knob when Price's raid come through. De government gave de old man a team to make it to St. Louis. Me and my mother and my brother who was deaf and dumb went with dem but de soldiers captured us and de old man jumped off de mule and high tailed it to de woods. My mother got out of de wagon and took my brother to de woods too. De soldier rid up to de wagon and said, 'Little boy, you don't need to be afraid, I'm after your father.'

"I started to get out of de wagon and fell down under de mule and dere I was on de ground. I got up and made for de woods and got in a hole where de hogs was a-wallerin'. I had on a dress and was standin' in de mud up to my knees. I got lost out in de woods for three days. I just laid around and slept behind a log at night and durin' de day I played in dat mud-hole. If I see'd somebody comin' in de woods I would go and hide.

"A colored lady found me after three days and called me and took me along. I stayed with her three weeks before my mother found me. I like to eat up everything dey had when I first got something to eat after bein' in de woods so long. We went from one place to another and along about two o'clock in de night you would hear something hit de house like hail. Den we had to come out of dere and hit for de woods. We would go to another house 'bout eight or nine miles away and I'll be switched if dere would not be hail fallin' on dat house about two o'clock in de mornin'. It was them bushwhackers again. We kept runnin' for about three weeks. We would go to peoples' houses for food and some of dem would give us enough food to eat for two or three days.

"I'll show you now how my mother happened to find me. One night we was in a old house and we didn't dare talk loud 'cause we was afraid de soldiers would hear us. We was afraid to light a light. All at once my mother who was in one side of de room said: 'I wish I could find my little boy.' Den de lady I was with said: 'I found a little boy playin' in de hole where de hogs wallowed. Come over here and see if dis is your boy.' So my mother come over and said: 'I can't see him but I sure can tell by puttin' my hand on his head.' So she put her hand on my head and said: 'Yes, dat's sure 'nough my boy.'

"But I wouldn't go with her. I wouldn't leave dat other woman. About 2 o'clock dat night de hail began to hit de house and we had to git out. So I went with de other woman and it was about two or three days before I would go with my mother. Two or three days later we all met again and my mother said: 'Don't you know your mother.' I knowed it was my mother 'cause my brother what was deaf and dumb was with her. Den I went on with her. I would talk to my brother with signs.

"Den we went to a little place away, away from Pilot Knob. Den my mother was free and she said, 'Robert, we is all free.' I was too young to know anything 'bout it. After we was free we put in a little stuff in de ground. We had to go to de woods to get some brush and make a brush fence around de garden to keep de cattle out. We got permission from a man dat owned a farm to build our own log house. It took two or three days to build a one room house. We made up some mud with water and made it stiff enough to stick to de chinckin'. Den we cut a big hole in one end of de building and got some flat rocks and made a fireplace. We put mud on de inside and outside of de chimney. Sometimes de chimney would catch on fire and we had to run to de branch to get water and put it out. Sometimes it would catch on fire twice or three times in one night.

"We took old gunny sacks and put leaves in dem to make a bed and we slept on de floor and had a old spread and de white folks gave us some old quilts. To make a fire we got some spunk out of a log and then took two flint rocks and to-reckly it would make a spark and catch that spunk. We banked de fire at night.

"We never had no doctor. My mother would go out in de woods and get herbs and if I had de stomach ache we would put a little bit of turpentine on a piece of sugar. If I had de headache we would put a piece of brown paper and vinegar or horse radish leaves on de head. In two or three hours us kids would be out playin' and kickin' up our heels. We would go out and get some goose grass and make a little bit of tea and pour it down for de stomach ache. We would get dis black root for constipation. We used a turnip and scraped it and would bind de foot when it was frost bit.

"I'se been married four times and had children by two wifes, had eight children altogether and all are girls but two. Ain't but one living and dat is Ed McFadden what's livin' in Fredericktown, Mo. He works for Deguire at de lumber mill and has been workin' dere for about 30 years. Most of my children died young, but three girls lived to get married. I'se married three times by a preacher and once by de squire.

"I steamboated six years on de Mississippi between St. Paul and New Orleans. I got $1 a day and board, and we sure would pack dem sacks and sing dem songs. De old mate would holler at us: 'Give me a song boys'. And den we would start out. It 'peared like de work went ahead easier when we was singin'. It would take us four weeks to make de rounds before we got back to St. Louis. We hauled potatoes, sheep, wheat, corn, cattle, horses, and cotton. There was 45 of us altogether. I never got hit but one time on de boat. De mate with knucks on hit at another feller for 'cause he was loafin' and hit me and knocked me and my load in de river. I couldn't swim but dey fished me back in de boat and rolled me over and over to run dat water out of me. I run on de 'Bald Eagle' and de 'Spread Eagle'. My mamma got after me to quit and when I got hit she got uneasy about me, but I would hear dat whistle blowin' my feet'd begin to itch and I could not help but go down to de old boat again. De old mate had my name 'doubled up'. It was Bob Rob.

"Den I went to wheelin' iron ore at Sulphur Springs. All day long I worked with 16 men loading barges with wheel barrows. Every time you took a load it had 800 pounds, and I'se telling you all, dat's some iron. This iron ore came from dat big hill down in Pilot Knob. We had straps over our shoulders and dey saved our hands and arms. It took about a day and a half to load a barge and we got paid by de ton. I did dat for about a year.

"I give my wife all my money and all de time she was givin' it away to another man. So dat was when I left her flat and went down to Charleston, Cairo, and Kentucky and stayed three years. I was workin' in de tobacco for three years. Dere was too much stoopin' in dat and I decided to come back to St. Louis. We only got $12 a month in de tobacco fields and worked from 4 o'clock in de morning to 8 or 9 o'clock in de night time. Dere was 9 or 10 in de tobacco field.

"Den I worked in de iron foundry in a St. Louis furnace. I carried iron and hustled in de casting hole. Dey paid pretty good and we got $1.50 to $1.75 a day. I worked up dere two years and den come to Sulphur Springs and went on de farm and got $26 a month. I got to be a trusty and dey put it in my hands. I worked here five years for old Mike Green. I was single den. I went down on John Coffman's farm in Ste. Genevieve County to work for him. Worked on his farm for 'bout 15 years and got $26 a month and board. He had a gang of 'em working for him. He had rows of cabins 'most a mile long. Dat was where I got married a second time.

"After I left dere I went down below Fredericktown and went on a farm again and stayed right dere for seven years. I lost my wife at dat place and sold my land. I paid $90 for 40 acres dere and had paid 'bout half on it. So I sold it back to de man what I bought it from for $45 and went to Bonne Terre and worked for de St. Joe Lead Co. and worked on de lead well and den went to tappin'. I got $1.60 for 12 hours. I worked dere until dey moved de works up here and den I followed de works right up here. Den I worked 'bout 30 years here doing de same kind of work with the same pay.

"When I quit workin' here it was about 13 years ago and I was about 62 years old. De company just laid me off on account of age. Den de supervisor dere got me a job as janitor at de colored school here at $7.00 a month. I've been janitor ever since. Dere is ten colored families in Herculaneum, and about 50 colored people here now but dere used to be mostly all colored but most of 'em done left. I lived here in dis house a little more dan 5 years without payin' rent. Den after my son got on the WPA dey begins to take $3.85 rent a month. We been payin' rent 'bout two years. The St. Joe Company owns all de houses here. We gets our water free. I'se been gettin' a pension about a year now.

"I shot a fellow once in de leg. It was de man who my wife was givin' my money to. I had a trial at Kimmswick before de Justice of Peace and served three months in de county jail at Hillsboro. The white folks come down and got me out and it didn't cost me a thing.

"A man has got more his own say now dan he did have. We can do more what we want to and don't have to go to de other fellow. Slavery might a done de other fellow some good but I don't think it ever done de colored people no good. Some of dem after freedom didn't know how to go out and work for demselves. Down at old John Coffman's lots of dem stayed with him right along same as if dey wasn't free. Dey didn't want to leave here 'cause dey didn't think dey could live if dey left him. But when dey got away up here in St. Louis dey know they can make a livin', without Marse John, but they got to 'go up against it.' Dependin' on somebody else is poor business. When I was workin' I depended on myself. If dey would have freed de slaves and give dem a piece of ground I think dat would been a heap better dan de way dey did. Look at de Indians! They're all livin'. I'se always been able to eat and sleep.

"I can't hardly tell about de younger generation, I can say dat if it was not for de old generation today de young ones would go up 'salt creek'. Dey don't want to work. Some of dem is pretty smart. Pride is de reason dey don't want to work. Dey dress up and strut out and have a good time. De old folks is de cause of it. Dey say, 'I don't want my boy to do dat; I don't want him to work hard'. I say, let him make out de same as us old folks did. If de colored people don't pick up and see about business dey is going to be behind. Dese young people won't go to church. You can't get dem in dere. Dat's de place dey ought to go. I'se been goin' to church since I was a boy. Colored folks did not raise me. White folks learned me to go to church. Mrs. Baker, at Cook's Settlement, would read de Bible every night at 9 o'clock and she would 'splain it to me. If she was not able, her daughter read it. We need a workhouse for de young people.

"De first time I ever cast my vote was for Garfield who got killed. It was in Kimmswick. Been votin' ever since, and vote all through dem all. I'se been talked to lots of times, tellin' me how to vote. Dey even give me a ballot and show me how to vote. I would stick dat in my pocket and vote like I pleased. I ain't never sold my vote but I'se been offered $10 for it. But I say if you is goin' to get beat, I say you is just beat. You ain't no man to go over there and cast your vote. You got to stand for your point.

"De first automobile I ever seen had buggy wheels. It made a terrible racket. Mrs. Baker told me dat people was goin' sometime to be ridin' in automobiles and in de air."

Alex Bufford

*Interview with Alex Bufford,*
*St. Joseph, Missouri,*
*by Carl B. Boyer, St. Joseph,*
*Buchanan County, Mo.*

The wonderful meteoric display known as the "star shower" or "the time when the stars fell," occured in 1833. It was on the night of the 12th and 13th of November. Many ignorant persons concluded that the Judgement day had come, or that the end of the world was at hand. Negroes especially were very much frightened. A dance was in progress on a Buchanan County farm, attended exclusively by slaves from the neighborhood. When the star shower began the negroes were first made aware of the fact by a messenger who ran frantically into the cabin and shouted, "If you all wants to git to hebin, you'd better 'gin to say yo' pra'rs mighty sudden, 'cause the Lawd is a-comin' wi' de fire an' de glory an' de wuld'll be burnt up like a cracklin' 'fo mo'nin."

The dancers ran out, fell on their knees and cried for mercy. Not for many days did they recover from their fright. One old negro declared that if the world and his life were spared he would agree to break eighty pounds of hemp every day instead of fifty, as he had been accustomed to do.

The Negro was a part of the early Buchanan County family. They were black slaves and happy.