*Mary Overton, 117 W. Heard St., Cleburne, Texas, was born in Tennessee,
but moved when very young to Carroll Co., Arkansas, where her parents
belonged to Mr. Kennard. Mary does not know her age.*
"I'se born in Tennessee but I don' 'member where, and I don' know how
ole I is. I don' 'member what de marster's name was dere. My mother's
name was Liza and my father's name was Dick. When I was 'bout four year
ole, my marster and mistis give me to dere daughter, who married a Dr.
James Cox and dey come to Texas and brought me with 'em. The marster in
Arkansas, which give me to his daughter, was named Kennard. I never seed
him but one time. Dat when he was sick and he had all his little niggers
dressed up and brought in to see him.
"Dr. Cox and his wife and me come to Fort Graham, in Hill County, Texas,
from Arkansas. We was 'bout two weeks comin'. Fort Graham wasn' no
reg'lar fort. Dere was jus' some soldiers campin' dere and dere was a
little town. Lots of Indians come in to trade. Den de doctor got a farm
on Nolan river, not far from whar Cleburne is now, and we went there.
"While we was on de farm, I got married. My husban' was Isaac Wright. I
had seven chillen by him. My second husban' was Sam Overton. Him and me
had two chillen. I wasn't married to Isaac by a preacher. De slaves
wasn' jin'rally married dat way. Dey jus' told dey marsters dey wanted
to be husban' and wife and if dey agreed, dat was all dere was to it,
dey was said to be married. I heered some white folks had weddin's for
dere niggers, but I never did see none.
"My marster had 'bout four slaves. He sold and bought slaves sev'ral
times, but he couldn' sell me, 'cause I belonged to de mistis, and she
wouldn' let him sell me. I cooked and washed and ironed and looked after
de chillen, mostly. Dey had three chillen, but de mistis died when the
least one was 'bout six months ole and I raised de two older ones. Dey
was two boys, and dey was 'bout grown when I lef' after freedom.
"We slaves had good 'nuf houses to live in. We didn' have no garden. I
wore cotton dresses in summer and linsey dresses and a shawl in de
winter. I had shoes most of de time. My white folks was pretty good to
keep me in clothes. I gen'rally went to church wid mistis.
"Didn' have no special clothes when I got married. I slep' in de kitchen
gen'rally, and had a wooden bed, sometimes with a cotton mattress and
sometimes it was a shuck mattress.
"My mistis teached me to read and write, but I wouldn' learn. I never
went to school neither. She would read de Bible to us.
"I didn' know no songs when I was in slavery. I didn' know 'bout no
baptizin'. I didn' play no certain games, jus' played roun' de yard.
"I wasn' at no sale of slaves, but saw some bein' tuk by in chains once,
when we lived at Reutersville. Dey was said to be 'bout 50 in de bunch.
Dey was chained together, a chain bein' run 'tween 'em somehow, and dey
was all man and women, no chillen. Dey was on foot. Two white men was
ridin' hosses and drivin' de niggers like dey was a herd of cattle.
"Lots of slaves run away, but I don' know how dey got word 'round 'mong
de niggers.
"I don' 'member much 'bout de war. Dere wasn' no fightin' whar we was,
on de farm on Nolan river. On de day we was made free, de marster come
and called us out one at a time and tol' us we was free. He said to me,
'Mary, you is free by de law. You don' belong to me no more. You can go
wherever you wan' to. I ain't got no more to say 'bout you.' He tol' us
if we'd stay awhile he'd treat us good and maybe we'd better stay, as de
people was pretty much worked up. De rest of 'em stayed 'bout a week,
den dey went off, and never come back, 'cept Isaac. I didn' go, but I
stayed a long time after we was made free. I didn' care nothin' 'bout
bein' free. I didn' have no place to go and didn' know nothin' to do.
Dere I had plenty to eat and a place to stay and dat was all I knowed
'bout.
"When I lef' I hired out as cook. I got ten dollars a month and all my
food and clothes and a place to sleep. I didn' spend but one dime of my
pay for eight months. I bought candy wid dat dime, like a walkin' stick.
"I sure wish I knew how old I is, but I ain' sure. I don' even know my
birthday!" (According to some white persons who have known Mary for a
long time, calculated from information Mary had given them as to her
younger days, when her memory was better than it is now, she is probably
more than one hundred years old.)