"I started to school when I was about six or seven years old. I didn't
get to school regular because my father had plenty of work and he had a
habit of taking me out to help him when he needed me in his work.
"My first teacher was a white man named Jones. I don't remember his
first name. He was a northerner and a Republican. He taught in the
public school with us. His boy, John, and his girl, Louisa, went to the
same school, and were in classes with us. The kids would beat them up
sometimes but he didn't cut up about it. He was pretty good man.
"After him, I had a colored man named M.E. Davis as a teacher. He would
say to my father, 'Henry, that is a bright boy; he will be a credit to
you if you will keep him at school and give him a chance. Don't make him
lose so much time.' My father would say, 'Yes, that is right.' But as
soon as another job came up, he would keep me out again.
"I soon got so my learning was a help to him in his work. Whenever any
figuring was to be done, I had to do it if it was done right. He never
had a chance to get any schooling and he couldn't figure well. So they
used to beat him out of plenty when he would work for them. One day we
had picked cotton for a white man and when the time came to pay off, the
man paid father, but I noticed that he didn't give him all he should
have. I didn't say anything while we was standing there but after we got
away I said, 'Papa, he didn't give you the right money.'
"Papa said, 'How much should he have given me?'
"I told him, and he said to me, 'Will you say that to him?'
"I said, 'Yes, papa.'
"He turned 'round and we went on back to the place and pa said, 'My boy
says you didn't pay me all that was comin' to me.'
"The white man turned to me at once and said, 'How much was coming to
him?'
"I told him.
"He said, 'What makes you think that?'
"I said, 'We picked so many pounds of cotton at so much per hundred
pounds, and that would amount to so many dollars and so many cents.'
"When I said that, he fell over on the ground and like to killed his
self laughing. He counted out the right money to my father and said,
'Henry, you better watch that little skinny-eyed nigger; he knows
something.'