[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note
[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note
[FN: ***] = Footnote
SLAVE NARRATIVES
A Folk History of Slavery in the United States
From Interviews with Former Slaves
TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY
THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT.
1936-1938
ASSEMBLED BY
THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT
WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION
FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
Illustrated with Photographs
WASHINGTON 1941
VOLUME IX
MISSISSIPPI NARRATIVES
Prepared by
the Federal Writers' Project of
the Works Progress Administration
for the State of Mississippi
INFORMANTS
Allen, Jim
Baker, Anna
Cameron, John
Clark, Gus
Cornelius, James
Davenport, Charlie
Emanuel, Gabe
Franks, Dora
Franks, Pet
Henry, Nettie
Hodges, Fanny Smith
Holliday, Wayne
Johnson, Prince
Kennedy, Hamp
Lucas, James
McAllum, Sam
Moses, Charlie
Necaise, Henri
Singleton, Rev. James
Smith, Berry
Snow, Susan
Stier, Isaac
Sutton, Jane
Williams, Mollie
Wilson, Tom
Young, Clara C.
ILLUSTRATIONS
Mollie Williams
Tom Wilson
[TR: Footnotes have been moved to appear within the text.]
[TR: Informant names and locations that appear in brackets
have been drawn from interviews.]
Mississippi Federal Writers
Slave Autobiographies
Jim Allen, Clay Co.
FEC
Mrs. Ed Joiner
[JIM ALLEN
West Point, Mississippi]
Jim Allen, West Point, age 87, lives in a shack furnished by the city.
With him lives his second wife, a much older woman. Both he and his wife
have a reputation for being "queer" and do not welcome outside visitors.
However, he readily gave an interview and seemed most willing to relate
the story of his life.
"Yas, ma'm, I 'members lots about slav'ry time, 'cause I was old 'nough.
"I was born in Russell County, Alabamy, an' can tell you 'bout my own
mammy an' pappy an' sisters an' brudders.
"Mammy's name was Darkis an' her Marster was John Bussey, a reg'lar old
drunkard, an' my pappy's name was John Robertson an' b'longed to Dr.
Robertson, a big farmer on Tombigbee river, five miles east of Columbus.
De doctor hisself lived in Columbus.
"My sister Harriett and brudder John was fine fiel' hands an' Marster
kep' 'em in de fiel' most of de time, tryin' to dodge other white folks.
"Den dere was Sister Vice an' brudder George. Befo' I could 'member
much, I 'members Lee King had a saloon close to Bob Allen's store in
Russell County, Alabama, and Marse John Bussey drunk my mammy up. I
means by dat, Lee King tuk her an' my brudder George fer a whiskey
debt. Yes, old Marster drinked dem up. Den dey was car'ied to Florida by
Sam Oneal, an' George was jes a baby. You know, de white folks wouldn't
often sep'rate de mammy an' baby. I ain't seen' em since.
"Did I work? Yes ma'm, me an' a girl worked in de fiel', carryin' one
row; _you_ know, it tuk two chullun to mek one han'.
"Did we have good eatins? Yes ma'm, old Marster fed me so good, fer I
was his pet. He never 'lowed no one to pester me neither. Now dis
Marster was Bob Allen who had tuk me for a whiskey debt, too. Marse
Bussey couldn't pay, an' so Marse Allen tuk me, a little boy, out'n de
yard whar I was playin' marbles. De law 'lowed de fust thing de man saw,
he could take.
"I served Marse Bob Allen 'til Gen'al Grant come 'long and had me an'
some others to follow him to Miss'sippi. We was in de woods hidin' de
mules an' a fine mare. Dis was after Emanc'pation, an' Gen'al Grant was
comin' to Miss'sippi to tell de niggers dey was free.
"As I done tol' you, I was Marse Allen's pet nigger boy. I was called a
stray. I slep' on de flo' by old Miss an' Marse Bob. I could'a slep' on
de trun'le bed, but it was so easy jes to roll over an' blow dem ashes
an' mek dat fire burn.
"Ole Miss was so good, I'd do anything fer her. She was so good an'
weighed' round 200 poun's. She was Marse Bob's secon' wife. Nobody
'posed on me, No, Sir! I car'ied water to Marse Bob's sto' close by an'
he would allus give me candy by de double han'full, an' as many juice
harps as I wanted. De bes' thing I ever did eat was dat candy. Marster
was good to his only stray nigger.
"Slave niggers didn't fare wid no gardens 'cept de big garden up at de
Big House, when fiel' han's was called to wuk out hers (old Miss). All
de niggers had a sight of good things to eat from dat garden an' smoke
house.
"I kin see old Lady Sally now, cookin' for us niggers, an' Ruth cooked
in de white folk's kitchen. Ruth an' old Man Pleas' an' old Lady Susan
was give to Marse Bob when he mar'ied an' come to Sandford, Alabamy.
"No, dere wa'nt no jails, but a guard house. When niggers did wrong, dey
was oft'n sent dere, but mos' allus dey was jes whupped when too lazy to
wuk, an' when dey would steal.
"Our clo'es was all wove and made on de plan'ation. Our ever'day ones,
we called 'hick'ry strips.' We had a' plen'y er good uns. We was fitted
out an' out each season, an' had two pairs of shoes, an' all de snuff
an' 'bacco we wanted every month.
"No, not any weddin's. It was kinder dis way. Dere was a good nigger
man an' a good nigger woman, an' the Marster would say, 'I knows you
both good niggers an' I wants you to be man an' wife dis year an' raise
little niggers; den I won't have to buy' em.'
"Marse Bob lived in a big white house wid six rooms. He had a cou't
house an' a block whar he hired out niggers, jes like mules an' cows.
"How many slaves did us have? Les' see. Dere was old Lady Sally an' her
six chullun an' old Jake, her husban', de ox driver, fer de boss. Den
dere was old Starlin', Rose, his wife an' fo' chullun. Some of dem was
mixed blood by de oberseer. I sees 'em right now. I knowed de oberseer
was nothin' but po' white trash, jes a tramp. Den dere was me an'
Katherin. Old Lady Sally cooked for de oberseers, seven miles 'way frum
de Big House.
"Ever'body was woke up at fo' o'clock by a bugle blowed mos'ly by a
nigger, an' was at dey work by sun-up. Den dey quits at sunset. I sho'
seed bad niggers whupped as many times as dere is leaves on dat groun'.
Not Marse Bob's niggers, but our neighbors. We was called 'free,' 'cause
Marse Bob treated us so good. The whuppin' was done by de oberseer or
driver, who would say as he put de whup to de back, '_Pray sir, pray
sir_!'
"I seed slaves sol' oft'ener dan you got fingers an' toes. You know I
tol' you dere was a sellin' block close to our sto'. Den plen'y niggers
had to be chained to a tree or post 'cause he would run 'way an' wouldn'
wuk.
"Dey would track de runways wid dogs an' sometimes a white scal'wag or
slacker wud be kotched dodgin' duty. I seed as many deserters as I see
corn stalks ober in dat fiel'. Dey would hide out in day time an' steal
at night.
"No'm I didn' learn to read an' write but my folks teached me to be
honest an' min' Old Miss an' Granny. Dey didn' want us to learn how to
go to de free country.
"We had a neighborhood chu'ch an bofe black an' white went to it. Dere
was a white preacher an' sometimes a nigger preacher would sit in de
pulpit wid him. De slaves set on one side of de aisle an' white folks on
de other. I allus liked preacher Williams Odem, an' his brudder Daniel,
de 'Slidin' Elder'.[FN: back slider] Dey come frum Ohio. Marse Bob Allen
was head steward. I' members lots of my fav'rite songs. Some of dem was,
_Am I born to Die_, _Alas and Did my Savior Bleed_, an' _Must I to de
Judgment be Brought_. The preacher would say 'Pull down de line and let
de spirit be a witnes, workin' fer faith in de future frum on high.'
"I seed de patyrollers every week. If de niggers didn' get a pass in
han' right frum one plan'ation to 'nother, dem patyrollers would git
you. Dey would be six an' twelve in a drove, an' day would git you if
you didn' have dat piece of paper. No sun could go down on a pass. Dere
was no trouble twixt niggers den.
"We lay down an' res' at night in de week time. Niggers in slav'ry time
riz up in de Quarters, you could hear 'em for miles. Den da cornshucking
tuk place. Den we would have singin'. When one foun' a red ear of corn,
dey would take a drink of whiskey frum de jug an' cup. We'd get through'
bout ten o'clock. De men did'n care if dey worked all night, fer we had
the 'Heav'nly Banners'[FN: women and whiskey] by us[HW:?].
"Sometimes we worked on Sat'day a'ternoon, owin' to de crops; but women
all knocked off on Sat'day a'ternoon. On Sat'day night, we mos'ly had
fun, playin' an drinking whiskey an' beer--no time to fool 'roun' in de
week time.
"Some went to chu'ch an' some went fishin' on Sunday. On Chris'mas we
had a time--all kinds eatin'--wimmen got new dresses--men tobacco--had
stuff to las' 'til Summer. Niggers had good times in mos' ways in
slav'ry time. July 4th, we would wash up an' have a good time. We
hallowed dat day wid de white folks. Dere was a barbecue; big table set
down in bottoms. Dere was niggers strollin' 'roun' like ants. We was
havin' a time now. White folks too. When a slave died, dere was a to-do
over dat, hollerin' an' singin'. More fuss dan a little--'Well, sich a
one has passed out an we gwine to de grave to 'tend de fun'ral; we will
talk about Sister Sallie.' De niggers would be jumpin' as high as a cow
er mule.
"A song we used to sing was" [HW: Sang]
'Come on Chariot an' Take Her Home, Take Her Home,
Here Come Chariot, les' ride,
Come on les' ride, Come on les' ride.'
"Yessum we believed ha'nts would be at de grave yard. I didn' pay no'
tention to dem tho', for I know de evil spirit is dere. Iffen you don't
believe it, let one of 'em slap you. I ain't seed one, but I'se heard
'em. I seed someone, dey said was a ghos', but it got 'way quick.
"When we got sick de doctor come at once, and Mistiss was right dere to
see we was cared fer. A doctor lived on our place. If you grunt he was
right dere. We had castor oil an' pills an' turpentine an' quinine when
needful, an' herbs was used. I can fin' dat stuff now what we used when
I was a boy.
[HW: Superstition]
"Some of us wore brass rings on our fingers to keep off croup. Really
good--_good now_. See mine?
"Yessum I knows all 'bout when Yankees come. Dey got us out'er de
swamp. I was layin' down by a white oak tree 'sleep, an' when I woke up
an' looked up an' saw nothin' but blue, blue, I said, 'Yonder is my
Boss's fine male hoss, Alfred. He 'tended dat horse hisself.' He took it
to heart, an' he didn' live long afte' de Blue Coats took Alfred.
"Peace was declared to us fust in January in Alabamy, but not in
Miss'sippi 'til Grant come back, May 8th.
"I ain't seen my boss since dem Yankees took me 'way. I was seven miles
down in de swamp when I was tuk. I wouldn' of tol' him goodbye. I jes
wouldn' of lef' him. No sir, I couldn' have lef' my good boss. He tol'
me dem Yankees was comin' to take me off. I never wanted to see him
'cause I would have went back 'cause he pertected me an' loved me.
"Like dis week, I lef' de crowd. One day, Cap'in Bob McDaniel came by,
an' asked me if I wanted to mek fires an' wuk 'round de house. I said,
'I'd like to see de town whar you want me to go, an' den I come to West
Point. It wa'nt nothin' but cotton rows--lot of old shabby shanties,
with jes one brick sto', an' it b'longed to Ben Robertson, an' I
hope[FN: helped] build all de sto'es in West Point since den.
"I seed de KuKlux. We would be workin'. Dem people would be in de fiel',
an' must get home 'fo dark an' shet de door. Dey wo' three cornered
white hats with de eyes way up high. Dey skeered de breeches off'n me.
First ones I got tangled up wid was right down here by de cemetery. Dey
just wanted to scare you. Night riders was de same thing. I was one of
de fellers what broke 'em up.
"Old man Toleson was de head leader of de Negroes. Tryin' to get Negroes
to go 'gainst our white people. I spec' he was a two faced Yankee or
carpetbagger.
"We had clubs all 'round West Point. Cap'in Shattuck out about Palo Alto
said to us niggers one day, 'Stop your foolishness--go live among your
white folks an' behave. Have sense an' be good citizens.' His advice was
good an' we soon broke up our clubs.
"I ain't been to no school 'cept Sunday School since Surrender. A good
white man I worked with taught me 'nough to spell 'comprestibility' and
'compastibility.' I had good 'membrance an' I could have learned what
white folks taught me, an' dey sees dey manners in me.
"I mar'ied when I was turnin' 19, an' my wife, 15. I mar'ied at big
Methodist Chu'ch in Needmore. Same old chu'ch is dere now. I hope build
it in 1865. Aunt Emaline Robertson an' Vincent Petty an' Van McCanley
started a school in de northeast part of town two years afte' de War.
"Emaline was Mr. Ben Robertson's cook, an' her darter, Callie, was his
housekeeper, an' George an' Walter was mechanics. George became a school
teacher.
"Abraham Lincoln worked by 'pinions of de Bible. He got his meanin's
from de Bible. 'Every man should live under his own vine and fig tree.'
Dis was Abraham's commandments. Dis is where Lincoln started, 'no one
should work for another.'
"Jefferson Davis wanted po' man to work for rich man. He was wrong in
one 'pinion, an' right in t'other. He tried to take care of his Nation.
In one instance, Lincoln was destroying us.
"I j'ined the church to do better an' to be with Christians an' serve
Christ. Dis I learned by 'sociation an' harmonious livin' with black an'
white, old an' young, an' to give justice to all.
"Be fust work I did after de War was for Mr. Bob McDaniel who lived near
Waverly on de Tombigbee River. Yes ma'am, I knowed de Lees, an' de
Joiners, but on de river den an' long afte', an' worked for 'em lots in
Clay County."
Anna Baker, Ex-slave, Monroe County
FEC
Mrs. Richard Kolb
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes
ANNA BAKER
Aberdeen, Mississippi
Anna Baker, 80-year old ex-slave, is tall and well built. She is what
the Negroes term a "high brown." Her high forehead and prominent cheek
bones indicate that there is a strain of other than the pure African in
her blood. She is in fair health.
"Lemme see how old I is. Well, I tells you jus' lak I tol' dat Home Loan
man what was here las' week. I 'members a pow'ful lot 'bout slavery
times an' 'bout 'fore surrender. I know I was a right smart size den,
so's 'cording to dat I mus' be 'roun' 'bout eighty year old. I aint sho'
'bout dat an' I don't want to tell no untruth. I know I was right smart
size 'fore de surrender, as I was a-sayin', 'cause I 'members Marster
comin' down de road past de house. When I'd see 'im 'way off I'd run to
de gate an' start singin' dis song to 'im:
'Here come de marster, root toot too!
Here come Marster, comin' my way!
Howdy, Marster, howdy do!
What you gwine a-bring from town today?'
Dat would mos' nigh tickle him to death an' he'd say, 'Loosahna (dat was
his pet name for me) what you want today? I'd say, 'Bring me some
goobers, or a doll, or some stick candy, or anything. An' you can bet
yo' bottom doller he'd always bring me somp'n'.
"One reason Marse Morgan thought so much o' me, dey say I was a right
peart young'n' an' caught on to anything pretty quick. Marster would
tell me, 'Loosanna, if you keep yo' ears open an' tell me what de
darkies talk 'bout, dey'll be somp'n' good in it for you.' (He meant for
me to listen when dey'd talk 'bout runnin' off an' such.) I'd stay
'roun' de old folks an' make lak I was a-playin'. All de time I'd be
a-listenin'. Den I'd go an' tell Marster what I hear'd. But all de time
I mus' a-had a right smart mind, 'cause I'd play 'roun' de white folks
an' hear what dey'd say an' den go tell de Niggers.--Don't guess de
marster ever thought 'bout me doin' dat.
"I was born an' bred 'bout seven miles from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I was
de baby of de fam'ly. De house was on de right han' side o' de road to
town. I had four sisters an' one brother dat I knows of. Dey was named
Classie, Jennie, Florence, Allie, an' George. My name was Joanna, but
dey done drap de Jo part a long time ago.
"I don't recollec' what my ma's mammy an' pappy was named, but I know
dat her pappy was a full blooded Injun. (I guess dat is where I gits my
brown color.) Her mammy was a full blooded African though, a great big
woman.
"I recollec' a tale ray mammy tol' me 'bout my gran'pa. When he took up
wid my gran'mammy de white man what owned her say, 'If you want to stay
wid her I'll give you a home if you'll work for me lak de Niggers do.'
He 'greed, 'cause he thought a heap o' his Black Woman. (Dat's what he
called her.) Ever'thing was all right 'til one o' dem uppity overseers
tried to act smart. He say he gwine a-beat him. My gran'pappy went home
dat night an' barred de door. When de overseer an' some o' his frien's
come after him, he say he aint gwine a-open dat door. Dey say if he
don't dey gwine a-break it in. He tell' em to go 'head.
"Whilst dey was a-breakin' in he filled a shovel full o' red hot coals
an' when dey come in he th'owed it at 'em. Den whilst dey was
a-hollerin' he run away. He aint never been seen again to dis good day.
I'se hear'd since den dat white folks learnt dat if dey started to whip
a Injun dey'd better kill him right den or else he might git dem.
"My mammy's name was Harriet Clemens. When I was too little to know
anything 'bout it she run off an' lef' us. I don't 'member much 'bout
her 'fore she run off, I reckon I was mos' too little.
"She tol' me when she come after us, after de war was over, all 'bout
why she had to run away: It was on 'count of de Nigger overseers. (Dey
had Niggers over de hoers an' white mens over de plow han's.) Dey kep'
a-tryin' to mess 'roun' wid her an' she wouldn' have nothin' to do wid
'em. One time while she was in de fiel' de overseer asked her to go over
to de woods wid him an' she said, 'All right, I'll go find a nice place
an' wait.' She jus' kep'a-goin. She swum de river an' run away. She
slipped back onct or twict at night to see us, but dat was all. She
hired out to some folks dat warnt rich' nough to have no' slaves o' dey
own. Dey was good to her, too. (She never lacked for work to do.)
"When my ma went off a old woman called Aunt Emmaline kep' me. (She kep'
all de orphunt chillun an' dem who's mammas had been sent off to de
breedin' quarters. When dem women had chillun dey brung 'em an' let
somebody lak Aunt Emmaline raise em.) She was sho' mean to me. I think
it was 'cause de marster laked me an' was always a-pettin' me. She was
jealous.
"She was always a-tryin' to whip me for somethin' or nother. One time
she hit me wid a iron miggin. (You uses it in churnin'.) It made a bad
place on my head. She done it 'cause I let some meal dat she was
parchin' burn up. After she done it she got sort a scared an' doctored
me up. She put soot on de cut to make it stop bleedin'. Nex' day she
made me promise to tell de marster dat I hurt my head when I fell out o'
de door dat night he whip Uncle Sim for stealin' a hog. Now I was asleep
dat night, but when he asked me I said, 'Aunt Emmaline say tell you I
hurt my head fallin' out de door de night you whip Uncle Sim.' Den he
say, 'Is dat de truf?' I say, 'Naw sir.' He took Aunt Emmaline down to
de gear house an' wore her out. He wouldn' tell off on me. He jus' tol'
her dat she had no bus'ness a-lettin' me stay up so late dat I seen him
do de whippin'.
"My pa was named George Clemens. Us was all owned by Marster Morgan
Clemens. Master Hardy, his daddy, had give us to him when he 'vided out
wid de res' o' his chillun. (Marster Morgan was a settled man. He went
'roun' by hisse'f mos' o' de time. He never did marry.)
"My pa went to de war wid Marster Morgan an' he never come back. I don't
'member much 'bout 'em goin', but after dey lef' I 'member de Blue Coats
a-comin'. Dey tore de smoke house down an' made a big fire an' cooked
all de meat dey could hol'. All us Niggers had a good time, 'cause, dey
give us all us wanted. One of 'em put me up on his knee an' asked me if
I'd ever seen Marster wid any little bright 'roun' shiny things. (He
held his hand up wid his fingers in de shape of a dollar.) I, lak a
crazy little Nigger said, 'Sho', Marster draps 'em 'hind de
mantelpiece.' Den, if dey didn' tear dat mantel down an' git his money,
I's a son-of-a-gun!
"After de war was over my ma got some papers from de progo[FN: provost]
marshal. She come to de place an 'tol' de marster she want her chillun.
He say she can have all 'cept me. She say she want me, too, dat I was
her'n an' she was gwine a-git me. She went back an 'got some more papers
an' showed 'em to Marster Morgan. Den he lemme go.
"She come out to de house to git us. At firs' I was scared o' her,
'cause I didn' know who she was. She put me in her lap an' she mos' nigh
cried when she seen de back o' my head. Dey was awful sores where de
lice had been an' I had scratched 'em. (She sho' jumped Aunt Emmaline
'bout dat.) Us lef' dat day an' went right on to Tuscaloosa. My ma had
married again an' she an' him took turns 'bout carrying me when I got
tired. Us had to walk de whole seven miles.
"I went to school after dat an' learnt to read an' write. Us had white
Yankee teachers. I learnt to read de Bible well' nough an' den I quit.
"I was buried in de water lak de Savior. I's a real Baptis'. De Holy
Sperrit sho' come into my heart.
"I b'lieves in de Sperrit. I b'lieves all o' us when us dies is
sperrits. Us jus' hovers 'roun' in de sky a-ridin' on de clouds. Course,
some folks is born wid a cloud over dey faces. Dey can see things dat us
can't. I reckon dey sees de sperrits. I know' bout dem Kloo Kluxes. I
had to go to court one time to testify 'bout' em. One night after us had
moved to Tuscaloosa dey come after my step-daddy. Whilst my ma an' de
res' went an' hid I went to de door. I warnt scared. I says, 'Marster
Will, aint dat you?' He say, 'Sho', it's me. Whar's yo' daddy?' I tol'
'im dat he'd gone to town. Den dey head out for 'im. In de meantime my
ma she had started out, too. She warned him to hide, so dey didn' git
'im.
"Soon after dat de Yankees hel' a trial in Tuscaloosa. Dey carried me. A
man hel' me up an' made me p'int out who it was dat come to our house. I
say, 'Dat's de man, aint it Marster Will?' He couldn' say "No", 'cause
he'd tol' me twas him dat night. Dey put 'em in jail for six months an'
give 'em a big fine.
"Us moved from Tuscaloosa while I was still a young girl an' went to
Pickensville, Alabama. Us stayed dar on de river for awhile an' den
moved to Columbus, Mississippi. I lived dar 'til I was old 'nough to git
out to myse'f.
"Den I come to Aberdeen an' married Sam Baker. Me an' Sam done well. He
made good money an' us bought dis very house I lives in now. Us never
had no chillun, but I was lef' one by a cousin o' mine what died. I
raised her lak she was my own. I sont her to school an' ever'thing. She
lives in Chicago now an' wants me to come live wid her. But shucks! What
would a old woman lak me do in a place lak dat?
"I aint got nothin' lef now 'cept a roof over my head. I wouldn' have
dat 'cept for de President o' de United States. Dey had loaned me some
money to fix up de house to keep it from fallin' down on me. Dey said
I'd have fifteen year to pay it back in. Now course, I knowed I'd be
dead in dat time, so I signed up wid' em.
"Las' year de men dat collec' nearly worrit me to death a-tryin' to git
some money from me. I didn' have none, so dey say dey gwine a-take my
home.
"Now I hear tell o' dat barefoot Nigger down at Columbus callin' de
president an' him bein' so good to 'im. So I 'cided to write an' tell
'im what a plight dis Nigger was in. I didn' say nothin noxious[FN:
obnoxious], but I jus' tol' him plain facts. He writ me right back an'
pretty soon he sont a man down to see me. He say I needn' bother no
more, dat dey won't take my house 'way from me. An' please de Lawd! Dey
aint nobody else been here a-pesterin' me since.
"Dat man tol' me soon as de old age pension went th'ough I'd git thirty
dollars a mont' stid[FN: instead] o' de four I's a-gittin' now. Now
won't dat be gran'? I could live lak de white folks on dat much.
"I'se had 'ligion all my born days. (I never learnt to read de Bible an'
'terpet de Word 'til I was right smart size, but I mus' o' b'lieved in
de Lawd since 'way back.) I'se gwine a-go right 'long an' keep
a-trustin' de good Lawd an' I knows ever'thing gwine a-come out all
right.
"'Twixt de Lawd an' de good white folks I know I's gwine always have
somethin' t'eat. President Roosevelt done 'tended to de roof over my
head."
JOHN CAMERON
Jackson, Mississippi
John Cameron, ex-slave, lives in Jackson. He was born in 1842 and was
owned by Howell Magee. He is five feet six inches tall, and weighs about
150 pounds. His general coloring is blackish-brown with white kinky
hair. He is in fairly good health.
"I'se always lived right here in Hinds County. I's seen Jackson grow
from de groun' up.
"My old Marster was de bes' man in de worl'. I jus' wish I could tell,
an' make it plain, jus' how good him an' old Mistis was. Marster was a
rich man. He owned 'bout a thousand an' five hund'ed acres o' lan' an'
roun' a hund'ed slaves. Marster's big two-story white house wid
lightning rods standin' all 'bout on de roof set on top of a hill.
"De slave cabins, 'cross a valley from de Big House, was built in rows.
Us was 'lowed to sing, play de fiddles, an' have a good time. Us had
plenty t' eat and warm clo'es an' shoes in de winter time. De cabins was
kep' in good shape. Us aint never min' workin' for old Marster, cause us
got good returns. Dat meant good livin' an' bein' took care of right.
Marster always fed his slaves in de Big House.
"De slaves would go early to de fiel's an work in de cotton an' corn.
Dey had different jobs.
"De overseers was made to un'erstan' to be 'siderate of us. Work went on
all de week lak dat. Dey got off from de fiel's early on Satu'd'y
evenin's, washed up an' done what dey wanted to. Some went huntin' or
fishin', some fiddled an' danced an' sung, while de others jus' lazed
roun' de cabins. Marse had two of de slaves jus' to be fiddlers. Dey
played for us an' kep' things perked up. How us could swing, an'
step-'bout by dat old fiddle music always a-goin' on. Den old Marster
come 'roun' wid his kin'ly smile an' jov'al sp'rits. When things went
wrong he always knowed a way. He knowed how to comfort you in trouble.
"Now, I was a gardner or yard boy. Dat was my part as a slave. I he'ped
keep de yard pretty an' clean, de grass cut, an' de flowers' tended to
an' cut. I taken dat work' cause I lak's pretty flowers. I laks to buil'
frames for 'em to run on an' to train 'em to win' 'roun'. I could monkey
wid 'em all de time.
"When folks started a-comin' through talkin' 'bout a-freein' us an'
a-givin' us lan' an' stuff, it didn' take wid Marster's slaves. Us didn'
want nothin' to come 'long to take us away from him. Dem a tellin' de
Niggers dey'd git lan' an' cattle an' de lak of dat was all foolis'ness,
nohow. Us was a-livin' in plenty an' peace.
"De war broke out spite o' how Marster's Niggers felt. When I seen my
white folks leave for war, I cried myself sick, an' all de res' did too.
Den de Yankees come through a-takin' de country. Old Marster refugeed us
to Virginny. I can't say if de lan' was his'n, but he had a place for us
to stay at. I know us raised 'nough food stuff for all de slaves.
Marster took care o' us dere 'til de war ended.
"Den he come to camp late one evenin' an tol' us dat us was free as he
was; dat us could stay in Virginny an work or us could come to
Mississippi wid him. Might nigh de whole passel bun'led up an' come
back, an' glad to do it, too. Dar us all stayed 'til de family all died.
De las' one died a few years ago an' lef' us few old darkies to grieve
over 'em.
"I don' know much 'bout de Klu Klux Klan an' all dat. Dey rode 'bout at
night an' wore long white ghos'-lak robes. Dey whup folks an' had
meetin's way off in de woods at midnight. Dey done all kinds o' curious
things. None never did bother 'bout Marster's place, so I don' know much
'bout 'em.
"After de War it took a mighty long time to git things a-goin' smooth.
Folks an' de Gov'ment, too, seem lak dey was all up-set an' threatened
lak. For a long time it look lak things gwine bus' loose ag'in. Mos'
ever'thing was tore up an' burned down to de groun'. It took a long time
to build back dout no money. Den twant de gran' old place it was de
firs' time.
"I married when I was a young man. I was lucky 'nough to git de nex'
bes' woman in de worl'. (Old Mis' was de bes'.) Dat gal was so good 'til
I had to court 'er mos' two years 'fore she'd say she'd have me.
"Us had six chillun. Three of 'em's still livin'. I can't say much for
my chillun. I don' lak to feel hard, but I tried to raise my chillun de
bes' I could. I educated 'em; even bought 'em a piano an' give em'
music. One of 'em is in Memphis, 'nother'n in Detroit, an' de other'n in
Chicago. I writes to 'em to he'p me, but don' never hear from 'em. I's
old an' dey is forgot me, I guess.
"Dat seems to be de way of de worl' now. Ever'thing an' ever'body is too
fas' an' too frivoless[FN: frivilous] dese here times. I tell you, folks
ought to be more lak old Marster was.
"I's a Christian an' loves de Lawd. I expects to go to him 'fore long.
Den I know I's gwine see my old Marstar an' Mistis ag'in."
BIBLIOGRAPHY
John Cameron: Jackson, Mississippi.
Mississippi Federal Writers
Slave Autobiographies
[GUS CLARK
Howison, Mississippi]
Uncle Gus Clark and his aged wife live in a poverty-stricken deserted
village about an eighth of a mile east of Howison.
Their old mill cabin, a relic of a forgotten lumber industry, is
tumbling down. They received direct relief from the ERA until May, 1934,
when the ERA changed the dole to work relief. Uncle Gus, determined to
have a work card, worked on the road with the others until he broke down
a few days later and was forced to accept direct relief. Now, neither
Gus nor Liza is able to work, and the only help available for them is
the meager State Old Age Assistance. Gus still manages to tend their
tiny garden.
He gives his story:
"I'se gwine on 'bout eighty-five. 'At's my age now. I was born at
Richmond, Virginny, but lef' dare right afte' de War. Dey had done
surrendered den, an' my old marster doan have no mo' power over us. We
was all free an' Boss turned us loose.
"My mammy's name was Judy, an' my pappy was Bob. Clark was de Boss's
name. I doan 'member my mammy, but pappy was workin' on de railroad
afte' freedom an' got killed.
"A man come to Richmond an' carried me an' pappy an' a lot of other
niggers ter Loos'anna ter work in de sugar cane. I was little but he
said I could be a water boy. It sho' was a rough place. Dem niggers
quar'l an' fight an' kills one 'nother. Big Boss, he rich, an' doan 'low
no sheriff ter come on his place. He hol' cou't an' settle all 'sputes
hisself. He done bury de dead niggers an' put de one what killed him
back to work.
"A heap of big rattlesnakes lay in dem canebrakes, an' dem niggers shoot
dey heads off an' eat 'em. It didn' kill de niggers. Dem snakes was fat
an' tender, an' fried jes lak chicken.
"Dere in Loos'anna we doan get no pay 'til de work is laid by. Den we'se
paid big money, no nickels. Mos' of de cullud mens go back to where dey
was raised.
"Dat was afte' freedom, but my daddy say dat de niggers earn money on
Old Boss' place even durin' slav'ry. He give 'em every other Sat'dy fer
deyse'ves. Dey cut cordwood fer Boss, wimmens an' all. Mos' of de mens
cut two cords a day an' de wimmens one. Boss paid 'em a dollar a cord.
Dey save dat money, fer dey doan have to pay it out fer nothin'. Big
Boss didn' fail to feed us good an' give us our work clo'es. An' he paid
de doctor bills. Some cullud men saved enough to buy deyse'ves frum
Boss, as free as I is now.
"Slav'ry was better in some ways 'an things is now. We allus got plen'y
ter eat, which we doan now. We can't make but fo' bits a day workin' out
now, an' 'at doan buy nothin' at de sto'. Co'se Boss only give us work
clo'es. When I was a kid I got two os'berg[FN: Osnaberg: the cheapest
grade of cotton cloth] shirts a year. I never wo' no shoes. I didn' know
whut a shoe was made fer, 'til I'se twelve or thirteen. We'd go rabbit
huntin' barefoot in de snow.
"Didn' wear no Sunday clo'es. Dey wa'nt made fer me, 'cause I had
nowhere ter go. You better not let Boss ketch you off'n de place, less'n
he give you a pass to go. My Boss didn' 'low us to go to church, er to
pray er sing. Iffen he ketched us prayin' er singin' he whupped us. He
better not ketch you with a book in yo' han'. Didn' 'low it. I doan know
whut de reason was. Jess meanness, I reckin. I doan b'lieve my marster
ever went to church in his life, but he wa'nt mean to his niggers, 'cept
fer doin' things he doan 'low us to. He didn' care fer nothin' 'cept
farmin'.
"Dere wa'nt no schools fer cullud people den. We didn' know whut a
school was. I never did learn to read.
"We didn' have no mattresses on our beds like we has now. De chullun
slep' under de big high beds, on sacks. We was put under dem beds 'bout
eight o'clock, an' we'd jes better not say nothin' er make no noise
afte' den. All de cullud folks slep' on croker sacks full of hay er
straw.
"Did I ever see any niggers punished? Yessum, I sho' has. Whupped an'
chained too. Day was whupped 'til de blood come, 'til dey back split all
to pieces. Den it was washed off wid salt, an' de nigger was put right
back in de fiel'. Dey was whupped fer runnin' away. Sometimes dey run
afte' 'em fer days an nights with dem big old blood houn's. Heap o'
people doan b'lieve dis. But I does, 'cause I seed it myse'f.
"I'se lived here forty-five years, an' chipped turpentine mos' all my
life since I was free.
"I'se had three wives. I didn' have no weddin's, but I mar'ied 'em
'cordin to law. I woan stay with one no other way. My fust two wives is
dead. Liza an' me has been mar'ied 'bout 'leven years. I never had but
one chile, an' 'at by my fust wife, an' he's dead. But my other two
wives had been mar'ied befo', an' had chullun. 'Simon here,' pointing to
a big buck of fifty-five sitting on the front porch, 'is Liza's oldest
boy.'"
Mississippi Federal Writers
Slave Autobiographies
[JAMES CORNELIUS
Magnolia, Mississippi]
James Cornelius lives in Magnolia in the northwestern part of the town,
in the Negro settlement. He draws a Confederate pension of four dollars
per month. He relates events of his life readily.
"I does not know de year I was borned but dey said I was 15 years old
when de War broke out an' dey tell me I'se past 90 now. Dey call me
James Cornelius an' all de white folks says I'se a good 'spectable
darkey.
"I was borned in Franklin, Loos'anna. My mammy was named Chlo an' dey
said my pappy was named Henry. Dey b'longed to Mr. Alex Johnson an'
whil'st I was a baby my mammy, my brudder Henry, an' me was sol' to
Marse Sam Murry Sandell an' we has brung to Magnolia to live an' I niver
remember seein' my pappy ag'in.
"Marse Murry didn' have many slaves. His place was right whar young
Mister Lampton Reid is buildin' his fine house jes east of de town. My
mammy had to work in da house an' in de fiel' wid all de other niggers
an' I played in de yard wid de little chulluns, bofe white an' black.
Sometimes we played 'tossin' de ball' an' sometimes we played
'rap-jacket' an' sometimes 'ketcher.' An' when it rained we had to go in
de house an' Old Mistess made us behave.
"I was taught how to work 'round de house, how to sweep an' draw water
frum de well an' how to kin'le fires an' keep de wood box filled wid
wood, but I was crazy to larn how to plow an' when I could I would slip
off an' get a old black man to let me walk by his side an' hold de lines
an' I thought I was big 'nouf to plow.
"Marse Murry didn' have no overseer. He made de slaves work, an' he was
good an' kind to 'em, but when dey didn' do right he would whip 'em, but
he didn' beat 'em. He niver stripped 'em to whip 'em. Yes ma'm, he
whipped me but I needed it. One day I tol' him I was not goin' to do
whut he tol' me to do--feed de mule--but when he got through wid me I
_wanted_ to feed dat mule.
"I come to live wid Marse Murry 'fo dar was a town here. Dar was only
fo' houses in dis place when I was a boy. I seed de fust train dat come
to dis here town an' it made so much noise dat I run frum it. Dat smoke
puffed out'n de top an' de bell was ringin' an' all de racket it did
make made me skeered.
"I heered dem talkin' 'bout de war but I didn' know whut dey meant an'
one day Marse Murry said he had jined de Quitman Guards an' was goin' to
de war an' I had to go wid him. Old Missus cried an' my mammy cried but
I thought it would be fun. He tuk me 'long an' I waited on him. I kept
his boots shinin' so yer could see yer face in 'em. I brung him water
an' fed an' cur'ied his hoss an' put his saddle on de hoss fer him. Old
Missus tol' me to be good to him an' I was.
"One day I was standin' by de hoss an' a ball kilt[FN: killed] de hoss
an' he fell over dead an' den I cried like it mout[FN: might] be my
brudder. I went way up in Tennessee an' den I was at Port Hudson. I seed
men fall dawn an' die; dey was kilt like pigs. Marse Murry was shot an'
I stayed wid him 'til dey could git him home. Dey lef' me behin' an'
Col. Stockdale an' Mr. Sam Matthews brung me home.
"Marse Murry died an' Old Missus run de place. She was good an' kind to
us all an' den she mar'ied afte' while to Mr. Gatlin. Dat was afte' de
war was over.
"Whil'st I was in de war I seed Mr. Jeff Davis. He was ridin' a big hoss
an' he looked mighty fine. I niver seed him 'ceptin he was on de hoss.
"Dey said old man Abe Lincoln was de nigger's friend, but frum de way
old Marse an' de sojers talk 'bout him I thought he was a mighty mean
man.
"I doan recollec' when dey tol' us we was freed but I do know Mr. Gatlin
would promise to pay us fer our work an' when de time would come fer to
pay he said he didn' have it an' kep' puttin us off, an' we would work
some more an' git nothin' fer it. Old Missus would cry an' she was good
to us but dey had no money.
"'Fo de war Marse Murry would wake all de niggers by blowin' a big
'konk' an' den when dinner time would come Old Missus would blow de
'konk' an' call dem to dinner. I got so I could blow dat 'konk' fer Old
Missus but oh! it tuk my wind.
"Marse Murry would 'low me to drive his team when he would go to market.
I could haul de cotton to Covin'ton an' bring back whut was to eat, an'
all de oxen could pull was put on dat wagon. We allus had good eatin
afte' we had been to market.
"Every Chris'mus would come I got a apple an' some candy an' mammy would
cook cake an' pies fer Old Missus an' stack dem on de shelf in de big
kitchen an' we had every thing good to eat. Dem people sho' was good an'
kind to all niggers.
"Afte de war de times was hard an' de white an' black people was
fightin' over who was to git de big office, an' den dere was mighty
leetle to eat. Dar was plen'y whiskey, but I'se kep' 'way frum all dat.
I was raised right. Old Missus taught me ter 'spect white folks an' some
of dem promised me land but I niver got it. All de land I'se ever got I
work mighty hard fer it an' I'se got it yit.
"One day afte' Mr. Gatlin said he couldn' pay me I run 'way an' went to
New Orleans an' got a job haulin' cotton, an' made my 50 cents an'
dinner every day. I sho' had me plen'y money den. I stayed dere mighty
close on to fo' years an' den I went to Tylertown an' hauled cotton to
de railroad fer Mr. Ben Lampton. Mr. Lampton said I was de bes' driver
of his team he ever had caze I kep' his team fat.
"Afte I come back to Miss'ssippi I mar'ied a woman named Maggie Ransom.
We stayed together 51 years. I niver hit her but one time. When we was
gittin' mar'ied I stopped de preacher right in de ceremony an' said to
her, 'Maggie, iffen you niver call me a liar I will niver call you one'
an' she said, 'Jim, I won't call you a liar.' I said, 'That's a bargain'
an' den de preacher went on wid de weddin'. Well, one day afte' we had
been mar'ied' bout fo' years, she ast[FN: asked] me how come I was so
late comin' to supper, an' I said I found some work to do fer a white
lady, an' she said, that's a lie,' an' right den I raised my han' an'
let her have it right by de side of de head, an' she niver called me a
liar ag'in. No ma'm, dat is somethin' I won't stand fer.
"My old lady had seven chulluns dat lived to git grown. Two of 'em lived
here in Magnolia an' de others gone North. Maggie is daid an' I live wid
my boy Walter an' his wife Lena. Dey is mighty good to me. I owns dis
here house an' fo' acres but day live wid me an' I gits a Confed'rate
pension of fo' dollars a month. Dat gives me my coffee an' 'bacco. I'se
proud I'se a old sojer, I seed de men fall when dey was shot but I was
not skeered. We et bread when we could git it an' if we couldn' git it
we done widout.
"Afte' I lef' Mr. Lampton I'se come here an' went to work fer Mr. Enoch
at Fernwood when his mill was jes a old rattletrap of a mill. I work fer
him 45 years. At fust I hauled timber out'n de woods an' afte' whil'st I
hauled lumber to town to build houses. I sometimes collec' fer de lumber
but I niver lost one nickle, an' dem white folks says I sho' was a
honest nigger.
"I lived here on dis spot an' rode a wheel to Fernwood every day, an'
fed de teams an' hitched 'em to de wagons an' I was niver late an' niver
stopped fer anything, an' my wheel niver was in de shop. I niver 'lowed
anybody to prank wid it, an' dat wheel was broke up by my gran'chulluns.
"Afte I quit work at de mill I'se come home an' plow gardens fer de
white folks an' make some more money. I sho' could plow.
"I jined de New Zion Baptist Church here in Magnolia an' was baptized in
de Tanghipoa River one Sunday evenin'. I was so happy dat I shouted, me
an' my wife bofe. I'se still a member of dat church but I do not preach
an' I'm not no deacon; I'se jes a bench member an' a mighty po' one at
dat. My wife was buried frum dat church.
"Doan know why I was not called Jim Sandell, but mammy said my pappy was
named Henry Cornelius an' I reckin I was give my pappy's name.
"When I was a young man de white folks' Baptist Church was called Salem
an' it was on de hill whar de graveyard now is. It burnt down an' den
dey brung it to town, an' as I was goin' to tell yer I went possum
huntin' in dat graveyard one night. I tuk my ax an' dog 'long wid me an'
de dog, he treed a possum right in de graveyard. I cut down dat tree an'
started home, when all to once somethin' run by me an' went down dat big
road lak light'ning an' my dog was afte' it. Den de dog come back an'
lay down at my feet an' rolled on his back an' howled an' howled, an'
right den I knowed it was a sperit an' I throwed down my 'possum an' ax
an' beat de dog home. I tell you dat was a sperit--I'se seed plen'y of
'em. Dat ain't de only sperit I ever seed. I'se seen 'em a heap of
times. Well, dat taught me niver to hunt in a grave yard ag'in.
"No ma'm, I niver seed a ghost but I tell yer I know dere is sperits.
Let me tell yer, anudder time I was goin' by de graveyard an' I seed a
man's head. He had no feet, but he kep' lookin' afte' me an' every way I
turned he wouldn' take his eye offen me, an' I walked fast an' he got
faster an' den I run an' den he run, an' when I got home I jes fell on
de bed an' hollered an' hollered an' tol' my old lady, an' she said I
was jes' skeered, but I'se sho' seed dat sperit an' I ain't goin' by de
grave yard at night by myse'f ag'in.
"An' let me tell yer dis. Right in front of dis house--yer see dat
white house?--Well, last Febr'ary a good old cullud lady died in dat
house, an' afte' she was buried de rest of de fambly moved away, an'
every night I kin look over to dat house an' see a light in de window.
Dat light comes an' goes, an' nobody lives dar. Doan I know dat is de
sperit of dat woman comin' back here to tell some of her fambly a
message? Yes ma'm, dat is her sperit an' dat house is hanted an' nobody
will live dar ag'in.
"No ma'm, I can't read nor write."
Charlie Davenport, Ex-slave, Adams County
FEC
Edith Wyatt Moore
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes
[CHARLIE DAVENPORT
Natchez, Mississippi]
"I was named Charlie Davenport an' encordin'[FN: according] to de way I
figgers I ought to be nearly a hund'ed years old. Nobody knows my
birthday, 'cause all my white folks is gone.
"I was born one night an' de very nex' mornin' my po' little mammy died.
Her name was Lucindy. My pa was William Davenport.
"When I was a little mite dey turnt me over to de granny nurse on de
plantation. She was de one dat 'tended to de little pickaninnies. She
got a woman to nurse me what had a young baby, so I didn' know no
dif'ence. Any woman what had a baby 'bout my age would wet nurse me, so
I growed up in de quarters an' was as well an' as happy as any other
chil'.
"When I could _tote taters_[FN: sweet potatoes] dey'd let me pick' em up
in de fiel'. Us always hid a pile away where us could git' em an' roast'
em at night.
"Old mammy nearly always made a heap o' dewberry an' 'simmon[FN:
persimmon]. wine.
"Us little tykes would gather black walnuts in de woods an' store 'em
under de cabins to dry.
"At night when de work was all done an' de can'les was out us'd set
'roun' de fire an' eat cracked nuts an' taters. Us picked out de nuts
wid horse-shoe nails an' baked de taters in ashes. Den Mammy would pour
herse'f an' her old man a cup o' wine. Us never got none o' dat
less'n[FN: unless] us be's sick. Den she'd mess it up wid wild cherry
bark. It was bad den, but us gulped it down, anyhow.
"Old Granny used to sing a song to us what went lak dis:
'Kinky head, whar-fore you skeered?
Old snake crawled off, 'cause he's afeared.
Pappy will smite 'im on de back
Wid a great big club--ker whack! Ker whack!'
"Aventine, where I was born an' bred, was acrost Secon' Creek. It was a
big plantation wid 'bout a hund'ed head o' folks a-livin' on it. It was
only one o' de marster's places, 'cause he was one o' de riches' an'
highes' quality gent'men in de whole country. I's tellin' you de trufe,
us didn' b'long to no white trash. De marster was de Honorable Mister
Gabriel Shields hisse'f. Ever'body knowed 'bout him. He married a
Surget.
"Dem Surgets was pretty devilish; for all dey was de riches' fam'ly in
de lan'. Dey was de out-fightin'es', out-cussin'es', fastes' ridin',
hardes' drinkin', out-spendin'es' folks I ever seen. But Lawd! Lawd! Dey
was gent'men even in dey cups. De ladies was beautiful wid big black
eyes an' sof' white han's, but dey was high strung, too.
"De marster had a town mansion what's pictured in a lot o' books. It was
called 'Montebella.' De big columns still stan' at de end o' Shields
Lane. It burnt 'bout thirty years ago (1937).
"I's part Injun. I aint got no Nigger nose an' my hair is so long I has
to keep it wropped[FN: wrapped]. I'se often heard my mammy was
redish-lookin' wid long, straight, black hair. Her pa was a full blooded
Choctaw an' mighty nigh as young as she was. I'se been tol' dat nobody
dast[FN: dared] meddle wid her. She didn' do much talkin', but she sho'
was a good worker. My pappy had Injun blood, too, but his hair was
kinky.
"De Choctaws lived all 'roun' Secon' Creek. Some of 'em had cabins lak
settled folks. I can 'member dey las' chief. He was a tall pow'ful built
man named 'Big Sam.' What he said was de law, 'cause he was de boss o'
de whole tribe. One rainy night he was kilt in a saloon down in 'Natchez
Under de Hill.' De Injuns went wild wid rage an' grief. Dey sung an'
wailed an' done a heap o' low mutterin'. De sheriff kep' a steady watch
on' em, 'cause he was afeared dey would do somethin' rash. After a long
time he kinda let up in his vig'lance. Den one night some o' de Choctaw
mens slipped in town an' stobbed[FN: stabbed] de man dey b'lieved had
kilt Big Sam. I 'members dat well.
"As I said b'fore, I growed up in de quarters. De houses was clean an'
snug. Us was better fed den dan I is now, an' warmer, too. Us had
blankets an' quilts filled wid home raised wool an' I jus' loved layin'
in de big fat feather bed a-hearin' de rain patter on de roof.
"All de little darkeys he'ped bring in wood. Den us swept de yards wid
brush brooms. Den sometimes us played together in de street what run de
length o' de quarters. Us th'owed horse-shoes, jumped poles, walked on
stilts, an' played marbles. Sometimes us made bows an' arrows. Us could
shoot 'em, too, jus lak de little Injuns.
"A heap of times old Granny would brush us hide wid a peach tree limb,
but us need it. Us stole aigs[FN: eggs] an' roasted 'em. She sho'
wouldn' stan' for no stealin' if she knowed it.
"Us wore lowell-cloth shirts. It was a coarse tow-sackin'. In winter us
had linsey-woolsey pants an' heavy cow-hide shoes. Dey was made in three
sizes--big, little, an' mejum[FN: medium]. Twant no right or lef'. Dey
was sorta club-shaped so us could wear 'em on either foot.
"I was a teasin', mis-che-vious chil' an' de overseer's little gal got
it in for me. He was a big, hard fisted Dutchman bent on gittin' riches.
He trained his pasty-faced gal to tattle on us Niggers. She got a heap
o' folks whipped. I knowed it, but I was hasty: One day she hit me wid a
stick an' I th'owed it back at her. 'Bout dat time up walked her pa. He
seen what I done, but he didn' see what she done to me. But it wouldn'
a-made no dif'ence, if he had.
"He snatched me in de air an' toted me to a stump an' laid me 'crost it.
I didn' have but one thickness 'twixt me an' daylight. Gent'men! He laid
it on me wid dat stick. I thought I'd die. All de time his mean little
gal was a-gloatin' in my misery. I yelled an' prayed to de Lawd 'til he
quit.
"Den he say to me,
'From now on you works in de fiel'. I aint gwine a-have no vicious boy
lak you 'roun de lady folks.' I was too little for fiel' work, but de
nex' mornin' I went to choppin' cotton. After dat I made a reg'lar fiel'
han'. When I growed up I was a ploughman. I could sho' lay off a pretty
cotton row, too.