Part 5

"When I got big 'nough I'd drive dere carriage. I was what dey calls de 'waitin' boy.' I sot in dat buggy and wait till dey come out of where dey was, and den driv 'em off. I wasn't 'lowed to git out and visit round with de other slaves. No, suh, I had to set dere and wait.

"De slaves git out in de fields 'fore sun-up and work till black dark. Den dey come home and have to feel dere way in de house, with no light. My mammy and daddy field hands. My grandma was cook, and have to git in de cook pot 'bout four o'clock to git breakfas' by daylight. Dey et by candles or pine torches. One de black boys stand behin' 'em and hold it while dey et.

"De clothes we wore was made out of dyed 'lows.' Dat de stuff dey makes sackin' out of. Summer time us go barefoot but winter time come, dey give you shoes with heels on 'em big as biscuits.

"De quarters is back of de big house and didn't have no floors. Dey sot plumb on de ground and build like a hawg pen. Dey cut down timber and stake it up at de corners and fill it in with timber with de bark on it. Dere was split log houses and round log houses and all sech like dat. Dey have only fifty slaves on dat place, and it a big place, big 'nough for a hundred. But what dey do? Dey take de good slaves and sell 'em. Dat what dey do. Den dey make de ones what am left do all de work. Sell, sell, all de time, and never buy nobody. Dat was dem.

"Every Sat'day evenin' us go to de pitcher poke. Dat what dey calls it when dey issues de rations. You go to de smokehouse and dey weigh out some big, thick rounds of white pork meat and give it to you. De syrup weighed out. De meal weighed out. Dey never give us no sugar or coffee. You want coffee, you put de skillet on de fire and put de meal in it and parch it till it most black, and put water on it. Mammy make salt water bread out of a li'l flour and salt and water.

"Sometimes, dey make de slaves go to church. De white folks sot up fine in dere carriage and drive up to de door and git de slaves out of one cabin, den git de slaves out of de nex' cabin, and keep it up till dey gits dem all. Den all de slaves walks front de carriage till dey gits to church. De slaves sit outside under de shade trees. If de preacher talk real loud, you can hear him out de window.

"If a cullud man take de notion to preach, he couldn't preach 'bout de Gospel. Dey didn't 'low him do dat. All he could preach 'bout was obey de massa, obey de overseer, obey dis, obey dat. Dey didn't make no passel of fuss 'bout prayin' den. Sometimes dey have prayin' meetin' in a cabin at night. Each one bring de pot and put dere head in it to keep de echoes from gittin' back. Den dey pray in de pot. Dat de Gawd's truth!

"Like I done said, massa sol' de good slaves in Monroe. Nobody marry in dem days. A gal go out and take de notion for some buck and dey make de 'greement to live together. Course, if a unhealthy buck take up with a portly gal, de white folks sep'rate 'em. If a man a big, stout man, good breed, dey gives him four, five women.

"Sometimes dey run 'way. It ain't done dem no good, for de dawgs am put on dey trail. If you climb de tree, dem dogs hold you dere till de white folks comes, and den dey let de dogs git you. Sometimes de dogs tore all dey clothes off, and dey ain't got nary a rag on 'em when dey git home. If dey run in de stream of water, de dogs gits after 'em and drowns 'em. Den Nick, de overseer, he whop 'em. He drive down four stakes for de feets and hands and tie 'em up. Den he whop 'em from head to feets. De whip make out a hide, cut in strips, with holes punch in 'em. When dey hits de skin it make blisters.

"All kind of war talk floatin' round 'fore de Yankees come. Some say de Yankees fight for freedom and some say dey'll kill all de slaves. Seems like it must have been in de middle of de war dat de Yankees come by. We hears somebody holler for us to come out one night and seed de place on fire. Time we git out dere, de Yankees gone. We fit de fire but we had to tote water in buckets, and de fire burn up de gin house full of cotton and de cotton house, too, and de corn crib.

"De Yankees allus come through at night and done what dey gwine to do, and den wait for more night 'fore dey go 'bout dere business. Only one time dey come in daylight, and some de slaves jine dem and go to war.

"All de talk 'bout freedom git so bad on de plantation de massa make me put de men in a big wagon and drive 'em to Winfield. He say in Texas dere never be no freedom. I driv 'em fast till night and it take 'bout two days. But dey come back home, but massa say if he cotch any of 'em he gwine shoot 'em. Dey hang round de woods and dodge round and round till de freedom man come by.

"We went right on workin' after freedom. Old Buck Adams wouldn't let us go. It was way after freedom dat de freedom man come and read de paper, and tell us not to work no more 'less us git pay for it. When he gone, old Mary Adams, she come out. I 'lect what she say as if I jes' hear her say it. She say, 'Ten years from today I'll have you all back 'gain.' Dat ten years been over a mighty long time and she ain't git us back yit and she dead and gone.

"Dey makes us git right off de place, jes' like you take a old hoss and turn it loose. Dat how us was. No money, no nothin'. I git a job workin' for a white man on he farm, but he couldn't pay much. He didn't have nothin'. He give me jes' 'nough to git a peck or two of meal and a li'l syrup.

"I allus works in de fields and makes baskets, big old cotton baskets and bow baskets make out of white oak. I work down de oak to make de splits and make de bow basket to tote de lunch. Den I make trays and mix bowls. I go out and cut down de big poplar and bust off de big block and sit down 'straddle, and holler it out big as I wants it, and make de bread tray. I make collars for hosses and ox whops and quirts out of beef hide. But I looses my eyesight a couple years back and I can't do nothin' no more. My gal takes care of me.

"I come here in 1931. Dat de first time I'm out of Franklin Parish. I allus git along some way till I'm blind. My gal am good to me, but de days am passin' and soon I'll be gone, too."

Hiram Mayes

*Hiram Mayes thinks he was born in 1862, a slave of Tom Edgar, who owned a plantation in Double Bayou, Texas. Hiram lives with two daughters in a rambling farmhouse near Beaumont, less than three miles from his birthplace on the old Edgar homestead near the Iron Bridge. For thirty years Hiram has served as Worshipful Master of the Masonic Lodge (Negro) in the vicinity. Native intelligence gleams in his deep-set eyes, but his speech shows that he received little schooling.*

"De fust thing I 'members back in slavery time was gittin' in de master's strawberry patch. He's right proud of dat patch and git after us plenty. Dey was li'l Tim Edgar, dat de white boy, and me. Tim, he still livin' down in Wallisville. Old master he cut us both a couple times for thiefin' he strawberries, jes' give us a bresh or two to skeer us. Dat de onlies' time he ever did whip me and you couldn' hardly call that a whippin'.

"Old man Tom Edgar was my master and de old Edgar place was down below where Jackson's store is and 'bout two mile from where I lives now. Some de brick from dat house still standin' dere in de woods.

"My mama name Mary and Dolf Mayes my papa, and I's borned 'bout 1862, I guess, 'cause I wasn't very big when freedom come. I did most my playin' with young master, Tim, him and me 'bout de same age.

"Old master was sho' good to he slaves and dey ain't never have no cruel overseer nor no lot of whippin' like some masters did. Mama work in de white folks' house and done de cookin' in de big kitchen. De big house was a big, low place with galleries 'round it. Mama tie me to a chair leg on de gallery to keep me from runnin' off to de bayou. Dey 'fraid of alligators. Dem 'gators never did eat no cullud chillen 'round us place, but dey allus 'fraid day would. Dey sich big snakes in de woods, too, dey skeered of dem.

"De cullud folks all have li'l brick cabin quarters and dey have a brickyard right near de place what a white man own and he make de bricks what dey calls Cedar Bayou brick 'count of de mud being diff'rent. I's born in one dem li'l brick houses. I don't 'member none my grandfolks 'cept my papa's mama, call Martha Godfry. She come from Virginny, and 'long to de Mayes where my papa born.

"I never did bother with Sunday School much, me. Dey one on de bayou and a white lady, Miss Joseph, am de teacher. Dey wasn't no school but after I git free I go to school on de edge of de woods. Dey have teacher name Runnells and a old blue-back speller to larn out of.

"After us freed my papa move up de prairie a ways and hire out to ride de range. Dey done larn me to ride when I 'bout five, six year old and I rid with de old man. Dat ridin' business was jes' my job. My daddy never did like to settle down and farm, but druther ride de range for four bits or six bits de day. De old master done give us nothin', jes' turn us adrift, but he didn't have much and everybody jes' have to shift for demselves dem days. Us git 'long all right makin' money with de cattlemen.

"De prairie lands a good place to git things to eat and us see plenty deers, sometime eight or ten in de bunch. Dey lots of wolves roamin' 'round lookin' for stray cows. Dat when de whip come in handy, to knock dem on de head. Never hear tell of but one bear, and us cotch him on Gum Island and kill him. You know dem funny lookin', horny things dey calls armadillos? Dey been immigrate here 'bout ten year ago. Dey come from somewhere but us ain't knowed why. Dey never was none here in slavery time but plenty horny frogs and 'gators.

"I marry 51 year ago to Wilina Day and I's still marry to her. Us marry in her brudder's house with jes' homefolks. Dey's nine chillen and eight still livin' and most dem farmers, 'cept two boys in de reg'lar army. Dey am Dolf and Robert. Oscar runs de fillin' station at Double Bayou. Oscar was in France in de World War. I has two my gals with me here and two grandchillen.

"I rode de range till 'bout 20 year ago and den I start gittin' purty old, so I settles down to farmin'. Dey charter a Masonic lodge here in 1906, I 'lieve it were number naught six, and dey put me up for Worshipful Master of de bunch. After dey vouch for me I git de chair and I been sittin' in de east for 30 year."

Susan Merritt

*Susan Merritt, 87, was born in Rusk Co., Texas, a slave of Andrew Watt. A year after she was freed, Susan moved with her parents to Harrison Co., and stayed on their farm until she married Will Merritt. They reared fifteen children. Susan has little to say of her life from 1865 to the present, stating that they got along on the farm they worked on shares. Since her husband's death Susan lives with a son, Willie, west of Marshall, Texas, on the Hynson Springs Road.*

"I couldn't tell how old I is, but does you think I'd ever forgit them slave days? I 'lieve I's 'bout 87 or more, 'cause I's a good size gal spinnin all the thread for the white folks when they lets us loose after surrender.

"I's born right down in Rusk County, not a long way from Henderson, and Massa Andrew Watt am my owner. My pappy, Bob Rollins, he come from North Carolina and belonged to Dave Blakely and mammy come from Mississippi. Mammy have eleven of us chillen but four dies when they babies, but Albert, Hob, John, Emma, Anna, Lula and me lives to be growed and married.

"Massa Watt lived in a big log house what sot on a hill so you could see it 'round for miles, and us lived over in the field in little log huts, all huddled along together. They have home-made beds nailed to the wall and baling sack mattresses, and us call them bunks. Us never had no money but plenty clothes and grub and wear the same clothes all the year 'round. Massa Watt made our shoes for winter hisself and he made furniture and saddles and harness and run a grist mill and a whiskey still there on the place. That man had ev'ything.

"The hands was woke with the big bell and when massa pulls that bell rope the niggers falls out them bunks like rain fallin'. They was in that field 'fore day and stay till dusk dark. They work slap up till Saturday night and then washes their clothes, and sometimes they gits through and has time for the party and plays ring plays. I 'member part the words to one play and that, 'Rolling river, roll on, the old cow die in cold water ... now we's got to drink bad water 'cause old cow die in cold water,' but I can't 'member more'n that. It's too long ago.

"When the hands come in from the field at dusk dark, they has to tote water from the spring and cook and eat and be in bed when that old bell rings at nine o'clock. 'Bout dusk they calls the chillen and gives 'em a piece of corn pone 'bout size my hand and a tin cup milk and puts them to bed, but the growed folks et fat pork and greens and beans and sich like and have plenty milk. Ev'ry Sunday massa give 'em some flour and butter and a chicken. Lots of niggers caught a good cowhiding for slippin' 'round and stealin' a chicken 'fore Sunday.

"Massa Watt didn't have no overseer, but he have a nigger driver what am jus' as bad. He carry a long whip 'round the neck and I's seed him tie niggers to a tree and cowhide 'em till the blood run down onto the ground. Sometimes the women gits slothful and not able to do their part but they makes 'em do it anyway. They digs a hole, 'bout body deep, and makes them women lie face down in it and beats 'em nearly to death. That nigger driver beat the chillen for not keepin' their cotton row up with the lead man. Sometimes he made niggers drag long chains while they works in the field and some of 'em run off, but they oughtn't to have done it, 'cause they chase 'em with hounds and nearly kilt 'em.

"Lots of times Massa Watt give us a pass to go over to George Petro's place or Dick Gregg's place. Massa Petro run a slave market and he have big, high scaffold with steps where he sells slaves. They was stripped off to the waist to show their strengt'.

"Our white folks have a church and a place for us in the back. Sometimes at night us gather 'round the fireplace and pray and sing and cry, but us daren't 'low our white folks know it. Thank the Lawd us can worship where us wants nowadays. I 'member one song we allus sing:

"'I heard the voice of Jesus callin' Come unto me and live Lie, lie down, weepin' one Res' they head on my breast.

"'I come to Jesus as I was Weary and lone and tired and sad, I finds in him a restin' place, And he has made me glad.'

"Us have two white doctors call Dr. Dan and Dr. Gill Shaw, what wait on us when we real sick. Us wore asafoetida bags 'round the neck and it kep' off sickness.

"I stay mos' the time in the big house and massa good but missy am the devil. I couldn't tell you how I treated. Lots of times she tie me to a stob in the yard and cowhide me till she give out, then she go and rest and come back and beat me some more. You see, I's massa nigger and she have her own niggers what come on her side and she never did like me. She stomp and beat me nearly to death and they have to grease my back where she cowhide me and I's sick with fever for a week. If I have a dollar for ev'ry cowhidin' I git, I'd never have to work no more.

"Young missy Betty like me and try larn me readin' and writin' and she slip to my room and have me doin' right good. I larn the alphabet. But one day Missy Jane cotch her schoolin' me and she say, 'Niggers don't need to know anything,' and she lams me over the head with the butt of a cowhide whip. That white woman so rough, one day us makin' soap and some little chickens gits in the fire 'round the pot and she say I let 'em do it and make me walk barefoot through that bed of coals sev'ral times.

"I hears 'bout freedom in September and they's pickin' cotton and a white man rides up to massa's house on a big, white hoss and the houseboy tell massa a man want see him and he hollers, 'Light, stranger.' It a gov'ment man and he have the big book and a bunch papers and say why ain't massa turn the niggers loose. Massa say he tryin' git the crop out and he tell massa have the slaves in. Uncle Steven blows the cow horn what they use to call to eat and all the niggers come runnin', 'cause that horn mean, 'Come to the big house, quick.' That man reads the paper tellin' us we's free, but massa make us work sev'ral months after that. He say we git 20 acres land and a mule but we didn't git it.

"Lots of niggers was kilt after freedom, 'cause the slaves in Harrison County turn loose right at freedom and them in Rusk County wasn't. But they hears 'bout it and runs away to freedom in Harrison County and they owners have 'em bushwhacked, that shot down. You could see lots of niggers hangin' to trees in Sabine bottom right after freedom, 'cause they catch 'em swimmin' 'cross Sabine River and shoot 'em. They sho' am goin' be lots of soul cry 'gainst 'em in Judgment!"

Josh Miles

*Josh Miles, 78, was born in Richmond, Virginia, a slave of the Miles family. In 1862 Mr. Miles brought his family and slaves to Franklin, Texas. After he was freed, Josh worked for the railroad until he was laid off because of old age. He lives in Mart, Texas.*

"I was born in Richmond, in Virginny, back in 1859, and my mammy and pappy was slaves to a man named Miles, what lived in Richmond but owned three plantations out a few miles, and 'bout fifteen hundred niggers. Pappy was de fam'ly coachman and druv de li'l surrey when Massa gwine see he plantations. On Sunday he druv de big coach to church. De Old Massa wear de big stove-pipe hat and de long-skirt coat and he big boots. Pappy, he wear de tall hat with de blue uniform with brass buttons, and black, shiny boots. He have de long horsewhip to crack at dem hosses--he drive four or six hosses, 'cause dat coach am big and heavy and de roads am often muddy.

"Massa allus went to de big fairs in Louisville and Richmond, where de big hoss races am. Dey name de hosses for Abe Lincoln and Steve Douglas, in 1860. De bettin' song what dey sings am like dis:

"'Dere's a old plow hoss, whose name am Doug, doo, dah, doo-dah-- He's short and thick, a reg'lar plug, oh, doo, dah, doo-dah, doo-- We're born to work all night, we're born to work all day, I'll bet my money on de Lincoln hoss, who bets on Steven A?'

"Well, dat de way us lives jes' befo' de war. When de presidents calls for volunteers, Virginny goes for de Rebels, and dey moves de capitol to Richmond. So Old Massa sees he'll be right in de thick of de war and he 'cides to come to Texas. He gits he slaves and he folks and hosses and cattle and he household things in de covered wagon and starts. Course, de hosses and cattle walks, and so does us niggers. But massa take he time and stops wherever he wants. It takes two years to make de trip. He stay de whole winter one place, and stops in Nashville and Memphis and Vicksburg. All dese places he trade de hosses and mules and oxen and niggers and everything else he have. But he wouldn't trade he pers'nal slaves. Dey have de big warehouse in places like Memphis, and take de nigger de day befo' de sale and give him plenty to eat to make him look in good humor. Dey chain him up de night befo' de sale, and iffen he am de fightin' nigger, dey handcuffs him. De auctioneer say, 'Dis nigger am eighteen year old, sound as de dollar, can pick 300 pounds of cotton a day, good disposition, easy to manage, come up 'xamine him.' Dey strips him to de waist and everybody look him over and de good ones brung $1,500 sometimes. I seed de old mammy and her two boys and gals sold. One man buys de boys and old mammy cry, but it don't do no good. 'Nother man bids de two gals and mammy throw such a fit her old massa throws her in, 'cause she too old to be much 'count.

"De siege of Vicksburg 'gins jus' after old massa done left there, on he way to Texas. He friends tell him all 'bout it. Coffee was $4.00 de pound, tea $18.00, butter to $2.00 de pound, corn $15.00 de bar'l, calico $1.75 de yard and muslin 'bout $7.00 de yard. De Rebels holds de city long as they could. De bluff over de city have de caves in it and dey's rented for high rent. Flour am $10.00 de pound and bacon $5.00. Dey eats mule meat, and dey give it de French name, 'Mule tongue cold, a la bray.'

"We keep's up with what happen and after de war dey tells us 'bout Richmond. De lab'tory am blowed up Friday, and de Stuart home burnt. Befo' Richmond am taken, dey sings dis song:

"Would you like to hear my song? I'm 'fraid its rather long-- Of de 'On to Richmond,' double trouble, Of de half a dozen trips And de half a dozen slips, And de latest bustin' of de bubble.

"'Pull off you coat and roll up you sleeve, For Richmond am a hard road to travel-- Then pull off you coat and roll up you sleeve. For Richmond am a hard road to travel.'

"Dey sung dat song to de old tune call 'Old Rosin de Beau.'

"De war ends and in de few months old massa sot he slaves free. He give my pappy some money and he starts out for heself. He goes to Milligan and rents land and raises he fam'ly. Old Massa never goes back to Richmond. De Yanks gits what he left so dey no use gwine back dere. He lives in Franklin till 1914. It ain't like Old Virginny, but dey's plenty wild game and hawgs and he raises a bale of cotton to de acre, so he have money once more.

"Dey's folks comin' to Texas all de time from de old states. It am de new world and dey likes it. Dey has de Juneteenth cel'brations after 'while, and de white folks gives us beeves and hawgs to barbecue, so Texas am de good place to stay.

"When I's 'bout growed, I starts workin' on de I. & G.N. railroad and helps build it from Houston into Waco. I works for it for years and years, and allus lives near de Brazos River. I's lived here in Mart forty years.

"I doesn't have de bitter mem'ries like some de niggers. 'Cause Old Massa allus good to us. I's had de good life and am 'bout ready to go to Hebben, and hopes I can see Old Massa dere."

Anna Miller

*Anna Miller, 85, lives with her daughter, Lucy Watkins, at 407 W. Bluff St., Ft. Worth, Texas. She was born a slave in Kentucky, and was sold, with her parents, to Mark Loyed, a farmer in Missouri. He later sold Anna's mother, before Anna was old enough to remember her. When Anna was 8, her owner moved to Palo Pinto, Texas.*

"I'se now 'bout 85 years ole, dat's what de white folks tells me. I'se bo'n in Kentuck'. My mammy, pappy and I'se sold by our fust marster to Marster Mark Loyed, who lived in Missouri. He takes us to him's farm. When I'se 'bout eight years ole, Marster Loyed sold him's farm and comes to Texas in covered wagons and oxen. He's brung all de slaves wid him. I'se don' 'member much 'bout de trip, cause I'se sick wid de fever. I'se so bad, de marster thinks I'se goin' to die. One mornin' he comes and looks at me and says, 'Dis nigger am too val'able to die. We'd better doctor her.' We camps for six days.

"We comes to Palo Pinto and dat's wild country den. Plenty of Indians, but dey never trouble we'uns. My work, 'twas helpin' wid de chores and pick up de brush whar my pappy was a-clearin' de land. When I gits bigger, I'se plowed, hoed, and done all de goin' to de mill. I'se helps card, spins and cuts de thread. We'uns makes all de cloth for to makes de clothes, but we don' git 'em. In de winter we mos' freeze to death. De weavin' was de night work, after workin' all de day in de fiel'.

"Dey sho whups us. I'se gits whupped lots a times. Marster whups de men and missus whups de women. Sometimes she whups wid de nettleweed. When she uses dat, de licks ain't so bad, but de stingin' and de burnin' after am sho' misery. Dat jus' plum runs me crazy. De mens use de rope when dey whups.