Chapter V: Part 5

"De week's rations for a growed person run like three pounds bacon and a peck cornmeal and some home-made 'lasses. No flour and no coffee, but us parch bran or wheat and make coffee. Each night dey give a pint of sweet milk. But de chillen all et in a special place in de kitchen.

"One mornin' Massa Washington call us all and he read from de big paper. He say, 'You is free to live and free to die and free to go to de devil, if you wants to.' He tell us if we gather he crops he'd pay us for it. Den he turned and walked away and started cryin'. All de families stays but one man. De highest price massa pay anybody was about $15.00, but dat seem like a lot of money to folks what wasn't used to gittin' any money at all.

"Finally my folks moved on a farm on Onion Creek, in Travis County, on rented land from Nat Watters and Dr. Shears, and farm on de third and fourth. We stays about six years and raises cotton and corn.

"But when I's twenty years old I marries Joe Walker and us move to Bastrop County, add I stays dere till he dies in 1932. Us have eleven chillen and nine of dem still livin'. I gits a pension, nine dollars de month, and it sho' am a help now I's old and nearly blind."

John Walton

*John Walton, 87, was born August 15, 1849, a slave of Bill Walton, who lived in Austin, Texas, until the Civil War. He then purchased a farm in Robertson County, Texas. John and his wife, Missouri, own a little home at 1008 Juniper St., Austin. Each receives an old age pension of $10.00 a month.*

"My name am John Walton, yes, suh, and I's born right here in Austin. Dat on de 15th day of August, in 1849. I done had de papers on dat but where dey is now I don't know. Pappy's named Gordon Walton and I 'member he die while de war goin' on, or jes' befo'. I disremember. My mammy was a small woman, named Mary.

"Massa Bill Walton owns all us, and he de brother of Buck Walton, and us live in Austin till it said de Yankees comin'. Some southern folks here in Austin was diggin' ground for a fort, old Fort MacGruder, jes' south of Austin. So Massa Bill takes us all 'way from Austin and up to Robertson County, 'cause he done figured de Yankees can't git up dere.

"I done field work up dere and even us kids had to pick 150 pounds cotton a day, or git de whoppin'. Us puts de cotton in de white-oak baskets and some dem hold more'n 100 pounds. It 'cordin' to de way you stamps you cotton in. De wagon with de yoke of oxen standin' in de field for to pour de cotton in and when it full, de oxen pulls dat wagon to de hoss-power gin. Us gin'rally use 'bout 1,600 pounds cotton to make de bale.

"Purty soon after Massa Walton opens he farm he die and Missus Walton den marries a Dr. Richardson and he git de overseer what purty rough on us. He want all us to stay right in line and chop 'long and keep up with de lead man. If us didn't it am de bullwhip. He ride up and down and hit us over de back if us don't do de job right. Sometimes he'd git off he hoss and have two slaves hold one down and give him de bullwhip. He'd give it to him, too.

"I helped break up de land and plant and chop cotton and a little of everything. Jes' what had to be done at de time, I goes out and does it. I run 'cross plenty snakes and one day one bit me right top de foot. Dere plenty varmints, too.

"In de fall of de year us kill plenty hawgs and put up de gamblin' racks and hang dat meat up for de night. Dere some big dogs what watched de meat and one old dog, old Jefferson, was bigger'n any dog I ever seed. He kilt many 'nother dog. One night a big panther try steal de hawg meat and old Jeff cotch him and helt him till de men comes. De panther tore Jeff up purty bad. Us heered dem panthers scream at night, and if you didn't know, you'd think it a woman. I could tell de diff'rence, 'cause de panther scream have de little growl at de end. If he half mile 'way, you'd hear dat little whang.

"One night I goes out in de bottom with my dog. I was huntin' but I don't like what I finds. A big panther follows me and old Nig, dat my big, black bulldog, scart him 'way from me. I sho' run dat night, and I never slip 'way no more at night.

"Massa's big house sot 'way from our cabins. Us have de big room where de slaves' meals all cook and de fireplace 'bout four foot 'cross and plenty ashes in de mornin' to make de ashcakes. For breakfast us have meat and ashcakes and bran-coffee or sassafras tea. You could keep dem dried sassafras roots de year 'round and dey jes' as strong. Us plowed 'em up in de field, 'cause dey growed wild.

"Us didn't have time for de playin' of games durin' de week, 'cause it dark when us goes out and it dark when us comes back. Us sho' was tired. At night dat overseer walk by our cabins and call out to us, to see if us all inside. If us don't answer he come up and find out why, and he'd find us, too.

"I larned to read and write a little jes' since freedom. Us used Webster's old blue-back spellers and I has one in de house to dis day and I wouldn't take nothing for it.

"The first year after freedom I farms with mammy and my stepdaddy. Pappy done die. Us done purty good de first year and I keeps on farmin' most my life. I marries Georgia Anne Harper in 1875 or 1876 in Limestone County. Us have four chillen and three is livin'. I marries 'gain in 1882 to Missouri Fisher and us have eight chillen and six is livin'.

"Us gits 'long on what de state give us now, and it ain't so bad. Times is diff'rent. I never done much but farm, so I don't know so much 'bout everything what goes on."

Sol Walton

*Sol Walton, 88, was born in Mobile, Alabama, a slave of Sam Lampkin. Sol and his father stayed on the Lampkin Plantation, then in Mooringsport, Louisiana, until 1873, and farmed on shares. From 1876 to 1922 Sol worked in the T.& P. shops, in Marshall, Texas. Sol and his wife are supported by odd jobs Sol secures about town and they receive money from a son who is in a CCC camp.*

"I was knockin' round, a good-sized chap, way back yonder in Buchanan's and Henry Clay's time. I was born in 1849, in Mobile, Alabama, and belonged to Sam Lampkin. My father was bought by the Lampkins and he allus kept the name of his first master, Walton. My mammy was a Alabama Negro and her name was Martha, and I had four brothers and four sisters, Robert, Jim, Richard, Alex, Anna, Dora, Isabella, Bettie.

"My master was Sam Lampkin and his wife was Missus Mary, and their first plantation was in Alabama, but they moved to Mississippi when I was 'bout six, and we lived on Salt Water Creek. They had a big, frame house and we lived in log quarters, slept on rough rail beds and had plenty to eat, peas, pumpkins, rice and other truck we raised on the place, and plenty of fish out of the creek.

"The first work I done in slavery was totin' water and dinner to the field hands, in gourd buckets. We didn't have tin buckets then. The hands worked from sun to sun, and if the overseer seed 'em slackin' up he cussed 'em and sometimes whacked 'em with a bullwhip. I seed 'em whipped till their shirt stuck to their back. I seed my mammy whipped for shoutin' at white folks meetin'. Old massa stripped her to the waist and whipped her with a bullwhip. Heaps of 'em was whipped jus' 'cause they could be whipped. Some owners half fed their hands and then whipped them for beggin' for grub.

"After our folks came in from the field they et supper and some went to Salt Water Creek to cotch fish and crabs. They used to spin at night, too. On Christmas Day massa allus give the slaves a little present, mostly somethin' to wear, 'cause he goin' to git that anyhow.

"Massa never had but one white overseer. He got kilt fightin'. The hands was burnin' logs and trash and the overseer knocked a old man down and made some of the niggers hold him while he bullwhipped him. The old man got up and knocked the overseer in the head with a big stick and then took a ax and cut off his hands and feet. Massa said he didn't ever want another white overseer and he made my cousin overlooker after that.

"The slaves had their own prayer meetin's and that's 'bout the biggest pleasure they had. We'd slip off sometimes to dances and parties, but the patterrollers come and run us home with hounds. The black and white children all played together and there was 'bout sixty of us.

"The old folks told us ghost stories but I never seed a ghost but once, after I was married. Me and some men was walkin' down the Shreveport road and saw a big house all lit up and fiddlin' and dancin' goin' on inside. But when we got close the music stops and the lights went out. When we got on past a piece it lit up and the fiddlin' starts 'gain. I wasn't scared, but we didn't hang round to see what made it do that way.

"Some of the cullud folks on our place could read and write. They larned it theyselves. The white folks didn't larn 'em. All they larned 'em was to work hard. But they took care of us when we was sick and old women made lots of medicine. There was boneset tea and willow tea and shuck tea and cottonseed tea for chills and fever and Jerusalum Oak for worms.

"Master left Mississippi for Texas 'bout time the war got goin' good, with his fam'ly and sixty slaves. We'd been on the road three weeks when a gang of Yankees come on us one day at dinner. The niggers scatters like birds. 'Bout half of 'em never come back, but the rest of us come on and settled seven miles southwest of Mooringsport, in Louisiana. Young master went to the war after we got there and come home sev'ral times. But they didn't talk the war 'mongst us cullud folks.

"Nothin' special happened the day they said we was free, 'cept some of 'em didn't stay ten minutes. Master told 'em if they'd stay he'd give them the third and fourth. The ones who left wasn't promised nothin' and didn't git nothin'. My folks stayed for 'most twenty years after 'mancipation, workin' on the halves.

"I left my folks in '73 and come to Jimmie D. Scott's place, in Texas, 'bout eight miles east of Marshall, and worked for $10.00 the month. That's where I met Liza Montecue, who is my wife. She was born on the Scott's place the same year I was born. We moved to Marshall in '76 and I got a job in the railroad shops and worked till the big strike in 1922. I didn't belong to the strike but the strikers wouldn't let me work. After they run me off my job, I never could get back on and had to make a livin' at anythin' I could find till my boy got in the CCC camp. I been married sixty-four years and raised eight children, and three of 'em lives here and works at anythin' they can find to make a dollar."

Ella Washington

*Ella Washington, 82, was born a slave of Dave Mann, in St. Mary's Parish, Louisiana. When the slaves were freed in Louisiana Ella was taken to Calvert, Texas, and put on the Barton plantation. Soon after the civil war she came to Galveston, and lives with her daughter, who supports herself and her mother by taking in washing.*

"You got to 'scuse how I looks, 'cause I been out in de back yard helpin' my daughter with de washin'. She allus fuss at me 'cause I work like dat, but I tells her jes' 'cause I is a old woman ain't no reason why I got to act like one.

"I don't know for sho' jes' when I'm birthed, but my sister allus say I's one year and six months older'n her and she say she's birthed 'bout 1857. Dey didn't make no record den like now. I thinks old massa, Dave Mann, keep some kind record on us, but he been dead de long time.

"My mammy and pappy was name Meine, Car'line and Charles Meine. De slaves used to take de massa's name and sometimes when dey sold dey drap de old name and take de new massa's name. Dat how come it so hard to keep up with dem.

"Massa Mann sho' nice but him and he missy die and Massa Jim Ross step into dere shoes on de plantation. Us gits swamp den. When you git swamp dat mean you got to live with a mean man. He sho' was mean, too.

"De plantation was big and 'bout a hundred slaves on it. Dey work dem hard, too, sometimes till nine o'clock at night. A lot of dem run away but dey sic de nigger dogs on dere trail and cotch dem. When dey cotch dem dey whup dem. Dey put sticks in de ground and tie dere hands and feet to dem. Some places dey strip dem naked and whip dem.

"Sometimes Massa Jim 'low us go to de Catholic Church at Marion. Dey wouldn't 'low us to pray by ourself. But we sneaks off and have pot prayin'. Two men carry de great big hog pot dey uses to scald hogs and take it out in de woods and us stick de head in it and pray. All de noise go in de pot and you couldn't hear it outside.

"Old massa fed us good, meal and syrup and meat 'nough to last. He give us watermelons every Sunday. But Massa Jim didn't 'lieve in pamperin' niggers, he say. He didn't give us much to eat and de houses leak 'cause de walls rotten.

"One time he take de notion to sell us. He put my mother and me and sister on de block up in Marion. Us all cryin' hard, 'cause us thunk us gwine git sep'rate. Den I looks up sudden and right at my young miss, Miss Mary. She so mad she pale like de ghost. She say, 'Ella, you git 'way from dat block and come over to me, and you too, Della.' Me and my sister runs over dere to her and wrop ourself round her dress and hold on with all our might. De massa come after us and Miss Mary say, 'What you mean sellin' my slaves?' He say us slaves his and she say, do he want to have to prove what he say. Den she start in and raise so much sand he have to call mammy down off de block and take us back home.

"I heared everybody say a war goin' on and my uncle and cousin run 'way to de head bureau, where de Yankees at. My mammy say it at Milligan, Texas. Time dey ready for freedom in Louisiana, dey refugees us to Texas, in de wagons. Us travel all day and half de night and sleep on de ground. It ain't take us so long to git to Calvert, out dere in de bottom of Texas, and dey puts us on de Barton plantation. We's diggin' potatoes dere when de Yankees come up with two big wagons and make us come out of de fields and free us. Dere wasn't no cel'bration 'bout it. Massa say us can stay couple days till us 'cide what to do.

"Well, den somethin' funny happen dere. De slaves all drinks out an old well. Dey'd drink water in de mornin' and dey'd have de cramps awful bad 'bout dinner time and in de evenin' dey's dead. Dey dies like flies, so fast dey couldn't make de coffins for dem. Dey jes' sew dem up in sacks and bury dem dat way. Some de slaves say massa put de poison in de well. I don't know what kill dem but it sho' look funny.

"Mammy and me goes to Calvert and hires out, but 'fore long us come to Galveston and pappy go back to Louisiana. If he ain't dead he still live dere in St. Mary's Parish. I never seen him no more.

"I marries 'bout 1886, and stays right here in Galveston. I seen Wright Cuney lots of times but I ain't never knowed him to talk to. I 'member when dey say he be governor some day, but dey ain't gwine have no cullud man governor. Course, he did git to congress."

Rosa Washington

*Rosa Washington is 90 years old and lives in her own little adobe house at 3911 Manzana St., El Paso, Texas. She was born a slave of the Watson family, on a large plantation seven miles from St. Joe, Louisiana. Her parents came from Georgia. After the Civil War she left her former owners, but later returned and was with them until they died. She came to Texas in 1921, and her three children provide for her. Her son, Le Roy, has been in the U.S. Emigration service in El Paso for 27 years.*

"My name's Rosa Washington and my husban' was Joe Washington. He's been dead a long time. I was bo'n on a big plantation, white man's name Bill Watson, wife Ann Watson, seven miles from St. Joe. Mama had four chillen and I had seven. Marster had a fine house and plenty of slaves. I dunno how many.

"'Fore we was free we was in the fiel' workin' and they come out and got us. Everybody threw up their hands and started to run. The Yanks busted open a sugar hogshead and give everybody all they wanted. Dey threw all de milk away and dey carried our marster away by force and tuk him to jail in Vicksburg. Our missus wept. When the Yankees got us, dey tuk us about three miles from whar we live, put us in a fine house, give us plenty to eat until war's ended. Me and my chillen and my father and mother were together there.

"We had a good cabin on the plantation, made out-a planks, ole rip-rap plunder. Dey treated us good. I worked in water garden, worked in fiel's when 10 years old. Hoe'd my row every day. Dey didn' whop me, though. My mistress wouldn' let 'em. Marsa and missus good to me. I not tell lie on 'em. Tell truf. Truf shines.

"I seed niggers put in stocks, put 'em in stocks head in fust. Tear their clothes off backs, whop till sores come, den dey pour coal oil and turpentine in sores. I see dat with my own eyes. My dad druv the carriage, carried 'em 'round all time. My mother worked in the fiel' like I do. Work every day. Dey give us everything to eat. Marster and missus, too, give plenty, but if ole cow died with cholera, they give to us niggers. I got good shoes once a year. When marster went to New Orleans, mama had to tie my feet up in rags. I had to work with the rest of 'em. Got up at 4 o'clock. We he'ped on other plantations when dey'd git behind. Go he'p 'em out.

"I waited on overseers table, Joe Crusa. He was mean. He stuck a fork in my head. Ole Aunt Clarissie cooked for us. She cook in cabin for us, had big fireplace. She cook for all niggers on the place. She was mean to me, never married. She had two rooms, all she do was cook, tell lies on me to white overseer. That woman told a lie on me 'cause said I lef' a fork dirty. He look at it, says, 'Who rubbed dis fork?' Woman says, 'Rosa,' and he stuck the fork in my head. Missus turn him off nex' day.

"We had co'nbread, no sugar, plenty okra and coffee; plenty milk, 'cause they had 17 cows. They give us clabber and peaches. Every day overseer blow horn in yard to wake us up, a bugle at four o'clock Sundays. We take cotton outta fiel' and put it up on scaffold to dry iffen it rain. Overseer sit in dry, big overcoat on; we work in mud and rain. One mornin' they carried us to stockhouse to whip us. My missus and marster never let 'em whip me, but no white folks he'p me to read and write. He'p me to do nothin' but work.

"White folks had church. I couldn' go. I hadda mind the white chillen every Sunday. Cullud people had to go way back in woods to have church. Never let white folks see 'em. Had to slip and hide to have our church, run like deer if foun' out. Marster never know a bit more'n this chair whar we was gwine. He couldn' ask us on Sunday, it be against the law. Iffen niggers run away, dogs 'ud catch 'em.

"Dey had doctor right dere. Kep' us well. Kep' us well so's we could work. Brother-in-law to marster.

"When the niggers was married, dey put a broom down and dey jump over the broom, same time missus and marster'd marry 'em. He'd marry 'em and she as witness. Sometimes celebrate. She'd cook 'em some cake, give 'em a fine dress. We'd take meat and skillets down to the bar on Sundays. Had fish frys. Wouldn' take no fussy chillen to the bar. We chillen would have fish fry whar dey couldn't watch us.

"Had to go to gin at four o'clock in evenin'. Couldn' play week-days, had to go in cabin and be still. Never got to play much till Yankees come and got us, but we had a big ball and dance in yard Christmas. Had candy, dey give us dresses and socks and a good feast for Christmas. Give us things for 4th of July. Dey give us dat day. No, dey wouldn' whip us dat day. We had a big quiltin' Christmas day. We'd piece de quilts outta scraps. Some couldn' quilt. Dey'd dance in de yard all day.

"We niggers got wool clothes in winter, good clothes woven on de place. Marster had black sheep and white sheep. He bought our summer clothes in New Orleans--linsey, calicy, plaid, some white ones. Dey'd give us color what we like.

"Sure, I seed ghosts. Dey come with no head, come outta de fiel' one night so late, 'bout eight, nine o'clock. I was scared, yes, suh, I sure was scared, but my mammy say, 'Dey ain' goin' to hurt you, baby.' Dey scare me. My mammy give me beads for my neck, china-berry beads to keep me well. They's pretty. I never had no other kind.

"We never git no money befo' freedom. I stay away from Marster and missus de first year, den go back. Dey give us 50c a day after war. Had to pay for rations. Better since war, though. No whippin's goin' on like they did 'fore.

"I'se a full Baptist--been ever since '67. I'se happy. Sometimes I gits too happy. I don' move till de spirit move me. I goes to church when I'se able. But I'se gittin' too old to go now--I'se just waitin' to go home."

Sam Jones Washington

*Sam Jones Washington, 88, was born a slave of Sam Young, who owned a ranch along the Colorado River, in Wharton Co., Texas. Sam was trained to be a cowhand, and worked for his master until 1868, receiving wages after he was freed. He farmed until 1905, then moved to Fort Worth and worked in the packing plants until 1931. He lives at 3520 Columbus Ave., Fort Worth, and is supported by an $11.00 per month old age pension, supplemented by what Sam raises in his garden and makes out of a few hogs.*

"How old I is? I's 16 year when surrender come. I knows dat, 'cause of massa's statement. All us niggers gits de statement when surrender come. I's seed plenty slave days.

"Massa Young run de small farm 'long de Colorado River and him don't own many slaves. Dere my mammy and her six chillen, and Majoria and her four chillens. My pappy am not on de place. I don't know my pappy. Him am what dey calls de travelin' nigger. Dey have him come for service and when dey gits what dey wants, he go back to he massa. De womens on Massa Young place not married.

"Massa raise jes' a little cotton, dat two womens and de chillen could tend to, and some veg'tables and sich. Us have lots of good food. Us sleep in de sleepin' room, nex' to massa's house, but I sleeps in massa's room.

"One night massa say, 'Don't tie my hoss to de stake tonight.' But I's sleepy and gits de nodfies and draps off to sleep. Mammy shake me and say, 'Did you stake de hoss?' Massa sees dat hoss in de mornin' and say, 'You done stake dat hoss and I told you not to.' He gives me couple licks and I larns to do what I's told. He never whip nobody, not de hard whippin' like other niggers gits. He am de good massa.

"I fust runs errands and den massa larn me to ride, soon's I could sit de hoss. Den I stays out with de cattle mos' de time and I's tickled. I sho' likes to ride and rope dem cattle and massa allus fix me up with good clothes and good hoss and good saddle. I stays dere till long after surrender.

"Us have stampedes from de cattle. Dat am cust'mary with dem critters. Dat mean ride de hoss to turn de cattle. Us ride to side de leader and crowd him and force him to turn, and keep forcin' him, and by and by dem critters am runnin' in de circle. Dat keep dem from scatterment. Dat sho' dangerous ridin'. If de hoss throw you off dem cattle stamp you to death. Gabriel sho' blow he horn for you den!

"I sho' 'joys dat business, 'cause we'uns have de good time. Us go to town and have fun. One time I comes near gittin' in trouble, but it ain't my fault. I's in town and massa, too, and a white man come to me and him show de drink. 'Who you 'long to, nigger?' he say. 'I's Massa Young's nigger,' I says, polite-like. 'You looks like de smart nigger and I's de notion smack you one,' he say. 'You better not smack me any,' I says. You unnerstand, dat de way massa raise me. I don't unnerstand some cruel white mens gits de arg'ment, jus' for de chance to shoot de nigger. Massa am standin' near by and him come up and say, 'If you touches dat nigger, I'll put de bullet through you.' Dat man see massa have no foolishment in he words and gits gwine. But if massa am not dere, Gabriel blow he horn for dis nigger's Jubilee, right den, yes, sar.

"I comes near gittin' cotched by de patterrollers once. I's jus' 12 den and 'nother nigger and me, us want some cane stalk. It good to eat raw, you knows. Jus' peel de bark off and chew dat inside. Well, we'uns in de man's cane patch, breakin' dem stalks and dey makes de poppin' noise. A patterroller come by and hear dat poppin', and holler, 'Who's dere in de cane patch?' Us didn't answer him, no, sar. I 'cides right quick dat I don't like cane and I comes 'way from dat patch. I outsmarts and outruns dat patterroller. I keeps to de cane fields and de woods and I runs dis way and dat way. I twists 'round so he couldn't follow my tracks. Like de snake's track, you can't tell if it am gwine north or comin' back. Lawd a'mighty! How fast I runs. I stays 'head of my shadow. I tells you, I's a-gwine!

"De war? White man, we'uns didn't know dere am de war. We seed some sojers at de start, but dat all. One day massa say to me, 'After dis, you gits $15.00 de month wages. I works for him three more years and den he sold out. Den I goes farmin' till 1905. I works in de packin' plants here in Fort Worth den, till I's wore out, 'bout six year ago. Now I raises de hawgs, not very many, and does what work I can git. Dat pension from de State sho' holps me. With dat and de hawgs and de little garden I gits by, and so I lives.

"Was I ever marry? Man, man, three time. Fust time, 'bout 1869 and we'uns gits de seperment in 1871. Dat woman sho' deal me mis'ry! She am de troublin' woman. Den 'bout 1873 I marries 'gain and she die 'fore long. Den in 1905 I marries 'gain and she's dead, too. I never has de chillen. I's jus' 'lone and old now, and stay here till my time comes. I 'spect it quite a spell yit, 'cause I's got lots of substance left, yes, sar."

William Watkins

*William Watkins, born 1850, to Julia and Hudson Watkins. All were slaves on the Watkins plantation where William was born, on the edge of Charlotte County, Virginia. William is tall, heavy set, and does not look his age. He lives with William Branch, who came from an adjoining county in Virginia. Both men served in the same campaigns in the United States Army.*

"My name is William Watkins. De name comes frum de name of Terbaccer Watkins, who owned de Watkins Terbaccer Plantation. He got a factory in Richmond and de plantation in Charlotte County in Virginia, 'bout 50 mile east of Richmond. Marse Watkins got a big frame house and 400 acres and 100 acres is terbaccer. Yassuh, dey's other crops--barley, wheat, oats, and den dey's stock--hogs, cows, hosses and mules.

"We lives in log cabins wid plank floors and we made de beds ourself. Dey feeds us good and we gits milk and bread and lotsa pork. Marse Watkins got lotsa hawgs.

"Yassuh, we's got a church. De slaves built it in de woods. We never got no wages but sometimes he give us four bits or six bits. What we do wid it? We buys candy. Sometimes we run de rabbits or goes fishing. De Marster gives us lil' patches of groun'. He's good but de overseer's rough. He whips all de slaves.

"Dey's a patrol what watches for slaves dat runs away, but we don't have no patrol on our plantation. We has dances Sat'day nights. Sundays we didn't wuk much.

"Dey's ghosts dere--we seed 'em. Dey's w'ite people wid a sheet on 'em to scare de slaves offen de plantation. We wears charms to keep us well. Dere's asafoetida in a bag and we wear's it roun' de neck. It cure most ev'ryting. When we gits real sick, dey sends medicine frum de big house.

"Ev'ry year de slave traders comes and de Marster sells some slaves down river to New Orleans. Who dey sell? Jes' no count slaves. Dey walks all de way. De traders dey rides in ox-carts. We never wuk much Sundays, only to milk de cows. Jes' dat. Yessuh, I was married on de plantation. De preacher say de words and we's married.

"Den de war come and de Yankees come down thick as leaves. Dey burns de big house and de slave houses and ev'ryting. Dey turns us loose. We ain't got no home nor nuthin' to eat, 'cause dey tells us we's free.

"We's gotta leave de plantation. De Marster's gone, de crops is gone, de stock's gone. We goes to anudder place and works on shares. De first time we sees de Ku Klux is right after de war. Dey whips de slaves what leaves de plantations, dey don' wan' dem to be free.

"Bout 1870 I goes to Ohio and enlists in de army at Jefferson Barracks and right off dey sends us to Texas to fight Indians. I goes to San Antonio and dey puts me on guard at de Alamo to fight off de Indians. Den I goes to Fort Davis. I'm in de cullud Indian Scouts, Co. K, and dey's a banker name of Miller in de Chihuahua jail. One night de kuhnel takes us from Fort Davis, and we marches all night wid guns and 150 rounds of ammunition in belts, and rations for 30 days. We marches all night long twel we gits to Del Norte, Texas(Presidio) and we crosses de river and takes Mr. Miller out of jail.

"While we's at Fort Davis a wagon train comes through de canyon and de Apaches rolls big rocks down on de white people and kills 26 of dem. Dey scalps all dey kills and we go out and fit de Apaches. De lieutenant is killed in de fight. Yassuh, we fit Apaches all de time and when we goes to Fort Concho dey gives us a fit all 'long de road. Den we fitten de Cheyennes and dey is wust of all. Dey's great big Indians 'bout seven feet tall and at de battle of de Wichita in de Indian Territory a Cheyenne shoots an arrer through my wrist. (He exhibited the scar. Same battle described in interview with Wm. Branch.)

"Den after my wound heals we's sent to Fort Clark and de sergeant, Jeff Walker, got it in for me. Kuhnel Andrews is at Fort Davis and Jeff Walker trumps up some charges dat I'se mistrusted, so dey gives me a dishonnuble discharge 'cause of dat Jeff Walker. I ain't had no court martial nor no trial and I cain't git no pension 'count of de dishonnuble discharge.

"And now I'se strong and well but I cain't git no wuk 'cause I'se so ole. And 'cause Jeff Walker didn't like me, I gits a dishonnuble discharge."

Dianah Watson

*Dianah Watson, 102, was born a slave of Tom Williams, at New Orleans. In 1870, Dianah went to Jefferson, Texas. She now lives with a married daughter in the Macedonia Community, five miles northwest of Marshall, Tex.*

"My name am Dianah Watson and I used to keep my age, but I done got sick and can't 'member it now. I can't say 'zactly how old I is but I's a past-growed woman when the war broke out, and my old missy's daughter done told me once out the book I's borned in 1835.

"I's borned and bred 'bout a half mile from New Orleans. My mammy was s*arah Hall and she's borned in Galveston, and my papa was Bill Williams. My old missy done take me from my mammy when I's a small baby and raised me to a full-growed woman. I slep' in the same room with my young missy and had a good time in slavery, didn't suffer for nothin' and never was cut and slashed like some. Me and Miss Laura come right up together and I's her own nigger slave.

"Massa Williams treated his black folks with 'spect. They was in the field from 'fore day till dark, but they was took good care of and fed and plenty clothes. Old Master Tom done the bossin' hisself and when he's dyin' he calls all his five boys to his bed and say, 'Boys, when I's gone, I don*t want no cuttin' and slashin' my niggers. They's got feelin' same as us.'

"But the oldes' boy, William, got the debbil in him and hires a overseer, and he rid in the fields with a quirt and rope and chair on his saddle. When he done take a notion to whip a nigger, he'd make some the men tie that nigger to the chair and beat him somethin' scand'lous. He got mad at my mother's sister, Aunt Susie Ann, and beat her till the blood run off her on the ground. She fall at his feets like she passed out and he put up the whip and she trips him and gits the whip and whips him till he couldn't stand up. Then some the niggers throwed him off a cliff and broke his neck. His folks gits the sheriff but master's boys orders him off the place with a gun. There warn't no more overseers on the place after that.

"If niggers of these days done see what I seed in slavery time they'd pray and thank they Gawd every day. My master's place sot right 'cross the big road from a place they cut and slashed they niggers. You'd hear that white man's black folks bellerin' like cows. I's stood many a time on our front gallery and seed them cut and slash the blood off them niggers. I seed old women half-bent from beatin's goin' to the field. They overseer had a wooden paddle with nails in it. I used to say to missy, 'Why they cuttin' and slashin' them black folks that-a-way?' Missy say, 'Dianah, that there white man got the debbil in him.'

"I seed them sell my mama. I ask my old missy why and she say, 'To go to her husband.'

"When the war broke out I's a full-growed woman. New Orleans was full of sojers and they wouldn't let us go to town. Me and young Mr. Tom used to git on the roof and watch them. The cannons was roarin' like thunder and smoke thick and black as clouds. I got scart when they sot the niggers free, at the niggers shoutin'. I didn't know what 'twas for. Old Miss say to me, 'They been in slavery but you don't know what slavery is, Dianah.'

"Two years after that my old miss carries me to Galveston to my mammy. She tell her to take good care of me and we lived there three years and moved to Jefferson. Our things come by boat but we come in wagons. I married John Smith purty soon after that but he died 'fore long. Then I married Noah Watson and now he's dead. I done raise six chillen but only one am livin' now and that's my younges' gal and I lives with her here.

"I tells the young race iffen they come up like me they wouldn't act so smart. They needs somebody to take the smartness outten them. But my gal am good to me. I gits a pension and pays it to her to take care of me. I been here a hundred years and more and I won't stay much longer, and I don't want to be no 'spense to nobody."

Emma Watson

*Emma Watson, born in 1852 or 1853, in Ellis Co., Texas, was one of the slaves of the Carl Forrester family. Emma worked in the fields most of her life, but is now too old to work, and is cared for by her daughter. They live at 318 Allen St., Dallas, Texas.*

"I axed my old missus when I's borned and she rec'lect I'm eight or nine year old when de freedom war starts. She say she don't make recall de 'xact time, but I takes May for a birthin' time. They's a time when some sich was writ in de Bible, but it got burnt up 'fore I's ageable. I knows where I'm borned, though, and it am on Capt. Forrester's farm in Ellis County. His mother, Miss Susan, raises me like she am my mammy. I calls her Sis Sue. She was old miss and Miss Lee was young miss.

"My paw, I don't know nothin' 'bout. My sister Anna and me, us have de same paw, but my mammy's sold out of Miss'sippi 'way from my paw 'fore my birthin'. My maw kept de name of Lucindy Lane, but Martha and Jennie, my other sisters, had diff'rent paws.

"I's gone through so much of hard times all my life, but when I's de li'l gal I didn't have much to do 'cept tend my Aunt Matilda's babies and wash they clothes. The rest the time I jes' plays round. Miss Lee have a china doll with a wreath of roses round it head. We takes turns playin' with it. I had a rag doll, and it jes' a bundle of rags with strings tied round it to give it a shape. Us make playhouses. Capt. Forrester goes away and I heared he gone to some war, but, law me, I didn't know 'bout war den.

I's jus' glad to play and eat anythin' I can git. When I git a tin can of clabber and some bread, that's what I wanted. They didn't buy no dishes for nigger young'uns to break up. Us et bacon and beef and salt pork and cornbread with us fingers. Mussel shells is what we dipped 'stead of spoons. I did love de souse, too.

"When I had de chills, Sis Sue, dat Old Miss, come out to de quarters and give me sweet milk boiled with pepper. I got shut of dem chills 'cause I didn't like dat pepper tea, but I like it better'n quinine or sage tea. I didn't like to be sick noways, 'cause dey jus' two bedsteads, one for my mammy and my step-paw, and one for us gals.

"They allus promise me they'll larn me to read and write, but never did git to dat. Aunt Matilda did most de spinnin' and weavin' and sewin'. I used to wear a shimmy and a dress in de week and a clean one for Sunday. In winter sometimes us have a li'l sacque and homemake calfskin shoes but mostly us have to stay inside iffen de weather ain't mod'rate.

"De only frolics I 'member was candy pullin's on Christmas. Dat all us niggers knowed 'bout Christmas.

"One day Miss Tilda git de buggy whip to whip my mammy. It's noontime, and dey had blowed de horn for de field niggers to come eat. Maw grabs de whip and says, 'Miss Tilda, you ain't gwine do dat.' Miss Tilda didn't say nothin' for a day or two, den she say, 'Lucindy, you git your young'uns and leave dis place.' So us goes walkin' down de road till us come to some folk's house and dey takes us in. Us dere 'bout a month when mammy git sick. Dem folks sends word to de Forresters dere niggers am sick and Sis Sue hitch up de hoss and come over. She brung food for us every day, and say, 'Now, Lucindy, when you git able you bring your young'uns on home and 'have yourself.' My mammy dies when I's 'bout ten year old.

"After Capt. Forrester come back home dey tell us to watch out for de Feds. Sis Sue say dey kill nigger young'uns. One day I's comin' through de fields and see three men in blue coats on big bay hosses. I ran, but dey passes me by big as you please. I seed plenty after dat, 'cause dey come and asks for corn and Sis Sue allus say us don't have 'nough for de hosses. But dat night de corn allus leave de cribs. Dem Feds was sho' thievin' folks.

"I stays with de Forresters till I's 22 year old, and dey give me food and clothes, but never no money. Sis Sue used to say, 'Come here, you li'l old free nigger.' It make me so mad. But den I marries and have de swiss white dress and us walk 'cross de fields to de preachers. Dat every bit of fixin' us have.

"Den us raise crops on de half-shares and sot up housekeepin' with a bedstead, some quilts and a li'l old stove. I has four young'uns and every one of dem had schoolin' and larnin'."

James West

*James West, 83, was born a slave to Mr. William West, near Ripley, in Tippah Co., Mississippi. This was close to the battle fought near Corinth and James witnessed some exciting events. In 1885 James came to Texas and now lives with a friend at 1114 Hardy St., Fort Worth, Texas.*

"Yes, suh, I 'members de slavery days and de War, 'cause I's born in 1854, on de plantation of Massa William West, in Mississip'. It weren't a big plantation, jus' 'bout 100 acres, and Massa West owned my mammy and four other slaves, Buck, Sam, Rufus and Mary. I don't know nothin' 'bout my pappy, 'cause I ain't never seed him, and my mammy never told me nothin' of him.

"All us cullud folks lived in cabins and they has two rooms. De bunks is built to de wall and has straw ticks and we has floors and real windows.

"Sam and Buck and Rufus am field workers and plants cotton and sich and looks after de stock. Sometimes de work is heavy and sometimes not. When it am finish, de massa lets 'em go fishin' or visitin' or rest. We goes to church when we wants and we has parties with Sam and Rufus to play de music, de fiddle and de banjo. How I wishes I could be back dere for jus' one year and have it like befo'. Jus' one year befo' I die!

"We has a good massa in every way. Him gives all we can eat. Folks don't eat like we used to, 'cause we had home-cured hams, and when you put it in your mouth, it was a treat for your taster. As for de clothes, massa say, 'De 'terial here and if yous don't supply yourselves, its yous fault.'

"Dere never anyone what gits whippin's on massa's place, 'cept dis nigger, but dey only spankin's. You see, dere was allus a bit of devilment in me. But de massa so good, we all tries to please him and we has no whippin's.

"De massa gives me a he goat and de shoemaker makes me de harness and cart for dat goat and when I gits him trained good, I has a job gittin' de chips for kindlin' and de wood and I totes de water. One day I takes Billy, de goat, 'cross de road for wood and it downhill from de woodpile so I jus' rides de load. Billy was gwine jus' as nice as yous kin like, but him says BAAH, and starts to run like a skeert bull. I thinks what kin be wrong with dat fool goat, when somethin' hits me back of de neck like a coal of fire, and de cart hits a rock and off I goes. To says I's skeert am not tellin' de truf, and I starts hollerin'. It was de bee stung me and when I gits to de house I looks Billy over and, sho' 'nough, on his hip was de bee sting. Dat bee sting sho' put de life in Billy.

"'bout de War time, de plantation was near whar dey fights a battle two days and I seed lots of soldiers. Before dat, de soldiers begins to come to massa's house and water de hosses and eat de lunch. Dey never did raid his place like other places 'round dere, but I hides when dey comes, 'cause I skeert of dem. I quavers and gits skeert when I sees 'em.

"We is jus' settin' down to breakfast one mornin' and we hears a big boomin'. When dat start, dis nigger don't eat his breakfast. I starts for some place to hide. I runs to one place, den I hears de boom, den I runs to another place. I finally crawls under de shed and dere I stays. Dey couldn't git me out and dere I stays for dat day and night and 'til noon de nex' day. I has no water or food. Lots of folks from Ripley what massa knows was kilt in dat battle.

"Buck and I goes to de battleground after de fightin' quits and dere was heaps of dead hosses but dey had dug de trench and buried de dead soldiers.

"I don' know about de Klux, but we use to sing a song 'bout de patter rollers, like dis,

'Run nigger run, patter roller kotch you,
Run nigger run, 'cause it almos' day,
Dat nigger run, dat nigger flew,
Dat nigger los' his Sunday shoe.'

"I stays with de massa after freedom 'til I's 21 year old and den I leaves and works for diff'runt folks. I marries in Tennessee when I's 22 and we has one chile, but my wife takes him when he's five and leaves, and I never seen or heard of 'em since. I comes to Texas 'bout 52 year ago.

"I has 'joyed talkin' 'bout dem old days, 'cause talk am all I kin do since my legs have de misery so bad."

Adeline White

*Adeline White, 90 odd years old, was born at Opelousas, Louisiana, a slave of Dr. Bridget. She lives with her daughter, Lorena, in Beaumont, Texas.*

"I's born at Opelousas and my massa and missis was Dr. Bridget and his wife. They was mean and they beat us and put the hounds after us. They beat the little ones and the big ones and when massa ain't beatin' his wife is. It am continual. My pappy call Thomas Naville and my mammy 'Melia Naville. They was born in Virginia. I had four brothers and two sisters, all dead now.

"Like I says, old massa sho' whip us and when he whip he put us 'cross a barrel or chain us and stake us out with a rope. We didn't have much to eat and not much clothes. They weave us clothes on the loom and make the dress like a sack slip over the head.

"Our cabin wasn't so bad, made of logs with dirt 'tween the logs. The chimney make out of sticks and dirt and some windows with a wooden shutter and no glass in 'em. Massa give 'em lumber and paint to make things for the house and they have homemake bed and table and benches to sit on.

"Massa have the hoss power cotton gin and a hoss power sugar cane mill, too. Us work hard all day in the gin and the sugar cane mill and doesn't have no parties nor fun. Sometimes in the evenin' us git together and talk or sing low, so the white folks won't hear.

"I 'member going through the woods one time and seein' somethin' black come up 'fore me. It must a been a ghost. I got a boy call' Henry what live in Welch and he kin see ghosties all the time. He jus' look back over he lef' shoulder and see plenty of 'em. He say they has a warm heat what make him sweat.

"Old massa didn't go to the war and his boys was too little. We jus' heared about the war and that it was goin' to free us. In the night us would creep out way in the woods and have the prayer meetin', prayin' for freedom to come quick. We has to be careful for if massa find out he whip all of us, sho'. We stays nearly all night and sleeps and prays and sleeps and prays. At las' we hears freedom is on us and massa say we are all free to go, but if we stay he pay us some. Most of us goes, for that massa am sho' mean and if we doesn't have to stay we wouldn't, not with that massa.

"We scatters and I been marry twice. The first man was Eli Evans in Jennings, in Louisiana and us have six chillen. The second man he James White but I has no more chillen. Now I lives with my gal what called Lorena and she make me happy. She sho' good to her old mammy, what ain't much good no more."

Sylvester Sostan Wickliffe

*Sylvester Sostan Wickliffe, of Ames, Texas, was born in St. Mary's Parish, Louisiana, in 1854. A free-born Negro, Wickliffe tells an interesting story about his life and that of his uncle, Romaine Vidrine, who was a slave-holder. Wickliffe has a nicely furnished home in Beaumont, and two of his children have been to college.*

"I's what dey call a free-born nigger. Its a long story how dat come about, but I can tell you.