Texas Slavery Narratives 21

CAMPBELL DAVIS, 85, was born in Harrison Co., Texas, a slave of Henry Hood. He remained on the Hood place about three years after he was freed, then farmed in Louisiana. In 1873 he married and moved back to Harrison Co., where he farmed until old age forced him to stop. He now lives with his nephew, Billie Jenkins, near Karnack. Campbell receives a $12.00 per month old age pension.

"I's big 'nough in slavery time to hear dem tell de darkies to get up and go in the mornin', and to hear the whistlin' of dem whips and howlin' of de dogs. I's birthed up in the northeast part of this county right on the line of Louisiana and Texas, and 'longed to old man Henry Hood. My mammy and daddy was Campbell and Judy Davis and dey both come from Alabama, and was brung here by de traders and sold to Massa Hood. They was nine of us chillen, name Ellis and Hildaman and Henderson and Henrietta and Georgia and Harriet and Patsy.

"Massa Henry didn't have de fine house but it a big one. Us quarters sot off 'cross de field in de edge of a skit of woods. Dey have dirt floors and a fireplace and old pole and plank bunks nail to de walls.

"Dey fed us beef and veg'tablesany kind, jus' name itand 'low us sop bread in potlicker till de world look level. Dat good eatin' and all my life I ain't have no better.

"Massa didn't 'low no overseer on he place. One my uncles de driver, and massa blow de old conk shell long 'fore day, and if de darkies didn't git goin' you'd hear dem whips crackin'.

"I seed one my sisters whip 'cause she didn't spin 'nough. Dey pull de clothes down to her waist and laid her down on de stomach and lash her with de rawhide quirt. I's in de field when dey whips my Uncle Lewis for not pickin' 'nough cotton. De driver pull he clothes down and make him lay on de groun'. He wasn't tied down, but he say he scart to move.

"De women am off Friday afternoon to wash clothes and all de hands git Saturday afternoon and mos' de man go huntin' or fishin'. Sometimes dey have parties Saturday night and couples git on de floor and have music of de fiddle and banjo. I only 'members one ring play:

"Hop light, li'l lady,
The cakes all dough,
Don't mind de weather,
Jus' so de wind don't blow.

"De bigges' day to blacks and whites was fourth of July. De hands was off all day and massa give de big dinner out under de trees. He allus barbecue de sheep or beef and have cakes and pies and fancy cookin'. He's one de bes' bosses round dat country. He 'lieve in makin' dem work and when dey need whippin' he done it, but when it come to feedin' he done dat right, too. And on Christmas he give us clothes and shoes and nuts and things and 'nother big dinner, and on Christmas night de darkies sing songs for de white folks.

"Us git some book larnin' 'mongst ourselves, round de quarters, and have our own preacher. Mos' de time us chillen play, makin' frog holes in de sand and mud people and things.

"I done hear lots of talk 'bout ghosts and hants and think I seed one onct. I's comin' home from de neighbors at night, in de moonlight, and 'rectly I seed something white by side de road. De closer I gits de bigger it gits. I's scart but I walks up to it and it nothin' but de big spiderweb on de bush. Den I says to myself, 'Dere ain't nothin' to dis ghost business.'

"Massa have one son go to war and he taken a old cullud man with him. I seed soldiers on hosses comin' and goin' de big road, and lots of dem come to Port Caddo in boats. De pretties' sight I ever seed am a soldier band all dress in de uniforms with brass buttons. When de soldiers come back from de war dey throwed cannon balls 'long de road and us chillen play with dem.

"When de war am over, massa call us all and say we's free, but can stay on and work for de victuals and clothes. A bunch leaves and go to de Progoe Marshal at Shreveport and ask him what to do. He tell dem to go back and wait till dey find work some place. My mammy and me stays at de Hood place 'bout three years. When I's twenty-one I marries and come back to Harrison County. Mammy and me done farm in Louisiana up to dat. My wife and me marries under de big oak tree front of de Leigh Church. Us jus' common folks and doesn't have no infair or big to-do when us marry.

"I's voted but our people won't pull together. I votes de 'publican ticket de long time, but last time I pulls over and votes de Democrat ticket. I 'cides I jus' as well go with de braves as stay with de scart.

"If de young gen'ration would study dey could make something out deyselves, but dey wont do it. Dey am too wild. Jus' last week, I hears de young cullud preacher at Karnack say, 'Brudders and sisters, style and brightness am what we needs today.' I looks at him and says to myself, 'Thank de Lawd I knows better'n dat.' When I's comin' up it am dark, but I knows better things am ahead for us people and us trusts in de Lawd and was hones' with our white folks and profits by what dey tells us. Dey wasn't no niggers sent to jail when I's comin' up. It dis 'style and brightness' what gits de young niggers in trouble. Dey got de dark way 'head of dem, less dey stops and studies and make somethin' out deyselves."

WILLIAM DAVIS was born near Kingston, Tennessee, on the first of April, 1845. His family were the only slaves owned by Jonathan Draper, Baptist minister. In 1869 William joined the army and was stationed at Fort Stockton, Texas. He has lived in Houston since 1870. William is active and takes a long, daily walk.

"Well, suh, jes' sit down in de chair yonder and I'll tell you what I can 'bout times back yonder. Let's see, now. I was born on de first day of April in 1845. De reason I knows was 'cause Miss Lizzie, our missy, told me so when we was sot free. Mammy done told me I was born den, on de Tennessee river, near Kingston. I heared her say de turnpike what run past Massa John's house dere goes over de mountain to Bristol, over in Virginny. Mammy and pappy and all us chillen 'long to de Drapers, Massa Jonathan what us call Massa John, and he wife, Miss Lizzie, and we is de only cullud folks what dey owns.

"Massa John am de Baptist preacher, and while I'm sho' glad to see my folks sot free, I'll tell de truth and say Massa John and Miss Lizzie was mighty good to us. Dey have four chillen; Massa Milton, what am oldes' and kill in de first battle; Massa Bob and Massa George and Massa Canero. Oh, yes, dey have one gal, Missy Ann.

"Course us didn't have no last names like now. Mammy named Sophie and pappy named Billy. Sometimes de owners give de slaves last names 'cordin' to what dey do, like pappy was meat cook and mammy cook pies and cakes and bread, so dey might have Cook for de last name.

"We has a bigger family dan Massa John, 'cause dey eight of us chillen. I ain't seen none of dem since I lef' Virginny in 1869, but I 'member all de names. Dere was Jane and Lucy and Ellen and Bob and Solomon and Albert and John, and I'm de younges' de whole lot.

"I heared Miss Lizzie tell some white folks dat my mammy and pappy give to her by her pappy in Alabama when she get married. Dat de custom with rich folks den, and mammy 'long to de Ames, what was Miss Lizzie's name 'fore she marry. I heared her say when de stars falls, I think she say in 1832, she was 'bout eighteen, and dey think de world am endin'.

"Pappy was a Indian. I knows dat. He came from Congo, over in Africa, and I heared him say a big storm druv de ship somewhere on de Ca'lina coast. I 'member he mighty 'spectful to Massa and Missy, but he proud, too, and walk straighter'n anybody I ever seen. He had scars on de right side he head and cheek what he say am tribe marks, but what dey means I don't know.

"'Bout de first I 'members real good am where we am in Virginny and Massa John runs de Washington College, in Washington County. I 'member all de pupils eats at massa's house and dat de first job I ever had. 'Scuse me for laughin', but I don't reckon I thunk of dat since de Lawd know when. Dat my first job. Dey has a string fasten to de wall on one side de room, with pea fowl tail feathers strung 'long it, and it runs most de length de room, above de dinin' table, and round a pulley-like piece in de ceilin' with one end de string hangin' down. When mealtime come, I am put where de string hang down and I pulls it easy like, and de feathers swishes back and forth sideways, and keeps de flies from lightin' while folks am eatin'. 'Ceptin' dat, all I does is play round with Massa George and Missy Ann.

"Dey ain't no whuppin' on our place and on Sunday us all go to church, and Massa John do de preachin'. Dey rides in de buggy and us follow in de wagon. De white folks sets in front de church and us in back.

"I can't tell you how long us stay at de college, 'zactly, but us moves to Warm Springs to take de baths and drink de water, in Scott County. Dat two, three years befo' de war, and Massa John run de hotel and preach on Sunday. I think dere am three springs, one sulphur water and one lime water and one a warm spring. I does a little bit of everything round de hotel, helps folks off de stage when it druv up, wait on table and sich. When I hears de horn blowyou know, de stage driver blow it when dey top de hill 'bout two miles 'way, to let you know dey comin'I sho' hustle round and git ready to meet it, 'cause most times folks what I totes de grips for gives me something. Dat de first money I ever seed. Some de folks gives me de picayunedat what us call a nickel, now, and some gives me two shillin's, what same as two-bits now. A penny was big den, jes' like a two-bit piece, now.

"But when war begin 'tween de Yankees and de South, it sho' change everything up, 'cause folks quit comin' to de Springs and de soldiers takes over de place. Massa Milton go to jine de South Army and gits kill. Morgan and he men make de Springs headquarters most de war, till de Yankees come marchin' through toward de last part. I know pappy say dem Yankees gwine win, 'cause dey allus marchin' to de South, but none de South soldiers marches to de North. He didn't say dat to de white folks, but he sho' say it to us. When de Yankees come marchin' through, de Morgan soldiers jes' hide out till dey gone. Dey never done no fightin' round Warm Springs. Lots of times dey goes way for couple weeks and den comes back and rests awhile.

"Den one mornin'I 'members it jes' like it yestiddy, it de fourth of July in 1865Miss Lizzie say to me, 'Willie, I wants you to git you papa and de rest de family and have dem come to de porch right away.' I scurries round quick like and tells dem and she comes out of de house and says, 'Now, de Yankees done sot you free and you can do what you wants, but you gwineter see more carpet baggers and liars dan you ever has seed, and you'll be worse off den you ever has been, if you has anythin' to do with dem. Den she opens de book and tells us all when us born and how old us am, so us have some record 'bout ourselves. She tells me I'm jes' nineteen and one fourth years old when I'm sot free.

"She tell pappy Massa John want to see him in de house and when he comes out he tells us Massa John done told him to take a couple wagons and de family and go to de farm 'bout ten miles 'way on Possum Creek and work it and stay long as he wants. Massa has us load up one wagon with 'visions. Pappy made de first crop with jes' hoes, 'cause us didn't have no hosses or mules to plow with. Us raise jes' corn and some wheat, but dey am fruit trees, peaches and apples and pears and cherries. Massa John pay pappy $120 de year, 'sides us 'visions, and us stays dere till pappy dies in 1868.

"Den I heared 'bout de railroad what dey buildin' at Knoxville and I leaves de folks and gits me de job totin' water. Dey asks my name and I says William Davis, 'cause I knows Mr. Jefferson Davis am President of de South durin' de war, and I figgers it a good name. In 1869 I goes to Nashville and 'lists in de army. I'm in de 24th Infantry, Company G, and us sent to Fort Stockton to guard de line of Texas, but all us do am build 'dobe houses. Col. Wade was de commander de fort and Cap'n Johnson was captain of G. Co. Out dere I votes for de first time, for Gen. Grant, when Greeley and him run for president. But I gits sick at de Fort and am muster out in 1870 and comes to Houston.

"I gits me de deckhand job on de Dinah, de steamboat what haul freight and passengers 'tween Galveston and Houston. Den I works on de Lizzie, what am a bigger boat. Course, Houston jes' a little bit of place to what it am nowdey wasn't no git buildin's like dey is now, and mud, I tell you de streets was jes' like de swamp when it rain.

"Long 'bout 1875 I gits marry to Mary Jones, but she died in 1883 and I gits marry 'gain in 1885 to Arabelle Wilson and has four girls and one boy from her. She died 'bout ten years back. Course, us cullud folks marry jes' like white folks do now, but I seen cullud folks marry 'fore de war and massa marry dem dis way: dey goes in de parlor and each carry de broom. Dey lays de brooms on de floor and de woman put her broom front de man and he put he broom front de woman. Dey face one 'nother and step 'cross de brooms at de same time to each other and takes hold of hands and dat marry dem. Dat's de way dey done, sho', 'cause I seed my own sister marry dat way.

"I has wished lots of times to go back and see my folks, but I never has been back and never seed dem since I left, and I guess dey am all gone 'long 'fore now. I has jobbed at first one thing and 'nother and like pappy tells me, I has trials and tribulations and I has good chillen what ain't never got in no trouble and what all helps take care dere old pappy so I guess I ain't got no complainin' 'bout things.

"I dreams sometimes 'bout de peach trees and de pear trees and de cherry trees and I'd give lots to see de mountains 'gain, 'cause when de frost come, 'bout now, de leaves on de trees put on pretty colors and de persimmons and nuts is ready for pickin' and a little later on us kill de hawgs and put by de meat for de winter.

"De Lawd forgive me for dis foolishness, 'cause I got a good home, and has all I need, but I gits to thinkin' 'bout Virginny sometimes and my folks what I ain't seed since I left, and it sho' make me want to see it once more 'fore I die.

ELI DAVISON was born in Dunbar, West Virginia, a slave of Will Davison. Eli has a bill of sale that states he was born in 1844. His master moved to Texas in 1858, and settled in Madison County. Eli lives in Madisonville, with one of his sons.

"My first Old Marse was Will Davison. My father's name was Everett Lee and mama was Susan, and he come to see her twict a month, 'cause he was owned by 'nother master.

"Marse Davison had a good home in West Virginia, where I's born, in Dunbar, but most of it 'longed to he wife and she was the boss of him. He had a great many slaves, and one mornin' he got up and 'vided all he had and told his wife she could have half the slaves. Then we loaded two wagons and he turned to his oldest son and the next son and said, 'You's gwine with me. Crawl on.' Then he said to he wife, 'Elsie, you can have everything here, but I'm takin' Eli and Alex and these here two chillen.' The other two gals and two boys he left, and pulled out for Texas. It taken us mos' two years to git here, and Marse Will never sot eyes on the rest of his family no more, long as he lived.

"Marse never married any more. He'd say, 'They ain't 'nother woman under the sun I'd let wear my name.' He never said his wife's name no more, but was allus talkin' of them chillun he done left behind.

"We gits here and starts to build a one room log house for Marse Will and his two boys. My quarters was one them covered wagons, till he trades me off. He cried like a baby, but he said, 'I hate to do this, but its the only way I'll have anything to leave for my two boys.' Looks like everything done go 'gainst him when he come to Texas, and he took sick and died. The boys put him away nice and loaded up and went back to Virginia, but the home was nailed up and farm lying out, and it took them mos' a year to find they folks. The mother and one gal was dead, so they come back and lived and died here in Texas.

"Marse Will was one more good man back in Virginia. He never got mad or whipped a slave. He allus had plenty to eat, with 1,200 acres, but after we come here all we had to eat was what we kilt in the woods and cornbread. He planted seven acres in corn, but all he did was hunt deer and squirrels. They was never a nigger what tried to run off in Texas, 'cause this was a good country, plenty to eat by huntin' and not so cold like in Virginia.

"After I was traded off, my new master wasn't so good to me. He thunk all the time the South would win that war and he treated us mean. His name was Thomas Greer. He kept tellin' us a black nigger never would be free. When it come, he said to us, 'Well, you black , you are just as free as I am.' He turnt us loose with nothin' to eat and mos' no clothes. He said if he got up nex' mornin' and found a nigger on his place, he'd horsewhip him.

"I don't know what I'd done, but one my old Marse Will's chillun done settle close by and they let me work for them, and built me a log house and I farmed on halves. They stood good for all the groceries I buyed that year. It took all I made that year to pay my debts and that's the way its been ever since.

"I married Sarah Keys. We had a home weddin' and 'greed to live together as man and wife. I jus' goes by her home one day and captures her like. I puts her on my saddle behind me and tells her she's my wife then. That's all they was to my weddin'. We had six chillun and they's all farmin' round here. Sarah, she dies seventeen years ago and I jus' lives round with my chillen, 'cause I's too old to do any work.

"All I ever done was to farm. That's all this here nigger knew what to do. O, I's seed the time when I never had nothin' to eat and my big bunch of chillun cryin' for bread. I could go to the woods then, but you can't git wild game no more. In them days it was five or ten mile to your nearest neighbor, but now they's so close you can stand in your yard and talk to them.

"I never done no votin', 'cause them Klu Kluxers was allus at the votin' places for a long time after the niggers was freed. The niggers has got on since them old days. They has gone from nothin' to a fair educated folks. We has been kind of slow, 'cause we was turnt loose without nothin', and couldn't read and write.

"I's worked for fifteen and thirty cents a day, but Lawd, blessed to our president, we gits a li'l pension now and that's kep' me from plumb starvin' to death. Times is hard and folks had to do away with everything when they had that Hoover for president, but they will be straightened out by and by if they'll listen to the president now. 'Course, some wants to kill him, 'cause he helps the poor, but it do look like we ought to have a li'l bread and salt bacon without upsettin' 'em, when they has so much.

ELIGE DAVISON was born in Richmond, Virginia, a slave of George Davison. Elige worked in the field for some time before he was freed, but does not know his age. He lives with one of his grandsons, in Madisonville, Texas.

"My birth was in Richmond. That's over in old Virginny, and George Davison owned me and my pappy and mammy. I 'member one sister, named Felina Tucker.

"Massa and Missus were very good white folks and was good to the black folks. They had a great big rock house with pretty trees all round it, but the plantation was small, not more'n a hunerd acres. Massa growed tobaccy on 'bout 30 of them acres, and he had a big bunch of hawgs. He waked us up 'bout four in the mornin' to milk the cows and feed them hawgs.

"Our quarters was good, builded out of pine logs with a bed in one corner, no floors and windows. Us wore old loyal clothes and our shirt, it open all down the front. In winter massa gave us woolen clothes to wear. Us didn't know what shoes was, though.

"Massa, he look after us slaves when us sick, 'cause us worth too much money to let die jus' like you do a mule. He git doctor or nigger mammy. She make tea out of weeds, better'n quinine. She put string round our neck for chills and fever, with camphor on it. That sho' keep off diseases.

"Us work all day till jus' 'fore dark. Sometimes us got whippin's. We didn't mind so much. Boss, you know how stubborn a mule am, he have to be whipped. That the way slaves is.

"When you gather a bunch of cattle to sell they calves, how the calves and cows will bawl, that the way the slaves was then. They didn't know nothin' 'bout they kinfolks. Mos' chillen didn't know who they pappy was and some they mammy 'cause they taken 'way from the mammy when she wean them, and sell or trade the chillen to someone else, so they wouldn't git 'tached to they mammy or pappy.

"Massa larn us to read and us read the Bible. He larn us to write, too. They a big church on he plantation and us go to church and larn to tell the truth.

"I seed some few run away to the north and massa sometime cotch 'em and put 'em in jail. Us couldn't go to nowhere without a pass. The patterrollers would git us and they do plenty for nigger slave. I's went to my quarters and be so tired I jus' fall in the door, on the ground, and a patterroller come by and hit me several licks with a cat-o-nine-tails, to see if I's tired 'nough to not run 'way. Sometimes them patterrollers hit us jus' to hear us holler.

"When a slave die, he jus' 'nother dead nigger. Massa, he builded a wooden box and put the nigger in and carry him to the hole in the ground. Us march round the grave three times and that all.

"I been marry once 'fore freedom, with home weddin'. Massa, he bring some more women to see me. He wouldn't let me have jus' one woman. I have 'bout fifteen and I don't know how many chillen. Some over a hunerd, I's sho'.

"I 'member plenty 'bout the war, 'cause the Yankees they march on to Richmond. They kill everything what in the way. I heared them big guns and I's scart. Everybody scart. I didn't see no fightin', 'cause I gits out the way and keeps out till it all over.

But when they marches right on the town I's tendin' hosses for massa. He have two hosses kilt right under him. Then the Yankees, they capture that town. Massa, he send me to git the buggy and hoss and carry missus to the mountain, but them Yankees they capture me and say they gwine hang that nigger. But, glory be, massa he saves me 'fore they hangs me. He send he wife and my wife to 'nother place then, 'cause they burn massa's house and tear down all he fences.

"When the war over massa call me and tells me I's free as he was, 'cause them Yankees win the war. He give me $5.00 and say he'll give me that much a month iffen I stays with him, but I starts to Texas. I heared I wouldn't have to work in Texas, 'cause everything growed on trees and the Texans wore animal hides for clothes. I didn't git no land or mule or cow. They warn't no plantations divided what I knowed 'bout. Mos' niggers jus' got turn loose with a cuss, and not 'nough clothes to cover they bodies.

"It 'bout a year 'fore I gits to Texas. I walks nearly all the way. Sometimes I git a li'l ride with farmer. Sometimes I work for folks 'long the way and git fifty cents and start 'gain.

"I got to Texas and try to work for white folks and try to farm. I couldn't make anything at any work. I made $5.00 a month for I don't know how many year after the war. Iffen the woods wasn't full of wild game us niggers all starve to death them days.

"I been marry three time. First wife Eve Shelton. She run off with 'nother man. Then I marries Fay Elly. Us sep'rate in a year. Then I marry Parlee Breyle. No, I done forgot. 'Fore that I marries Sue Wilford, and us have seven gals and six boys. They all in New York but one. He stays here. Then I marries Parlee and us have two gals. Parlee die three year ago.

"The gov'ment give me a pension and I gits li'l odd jobs round, to get by. But times been hard and I ain't had much to eat the las' few years. Not near so good as what old massa done give me. But I gits by somehow.

"I done the bes' I could, 'sidering I's turned out with nothin' when I's growed and didn't know much, neither. The young folks, they knows more, 'cause they got the chance for schoolin'.

JOHN DAY, 81, was born near Dayton, Tennessee, a slave of Major John Day. John lives in McLennan Co., Texas.

"I was born near three mile from Dayton. That's over in Tennessee, and it was the sixteenth of February, in 1856. Master's name was Major John Day and my father's name was Alfred Day, and he was a first-class blacksmith. Blacksmithin' was a real trade them days, and my father made axes and hoes and plow shares and knives and even Jew's harps.

"Master was good to my father and when he done done de day's work he could work and keep the money he made. He'd work till midnight, sometimes, and at de end that war he had fifteen hundred dollars in Confederate money. I never seen such a worker.

"Master John thunk lots of father but he took de notion to sell him one time, 'cause why, he could git a lot of money for him. He sold him, but my mama and even Old Missy, cried and took on so dat Master John went after de men what bought him, to git him back. Dey already done crossed de river, but master calls and dey brung my father back and he give dem de money back. Dat de only time master sold one of us.

"He was a preacher and good to us, never beat none of us. He didn't have no overseer, but saw to all de work heself. He had twenty-five slaves and raised wheat and corn and oats and vegetables and fruit. He had four hundred acres and a house with twelve rooms.

"A man what owned a farm jinin' ourn, de houses half a mile apart. He had two slaves, Taylor and Jennie, and he whip dem every day, even if dey hadn't done nothin'. He allus beatin' on dem, seemed like. One awful cold day in February, Taylor done go to Denton for somethin', and when he come back his master starts beatin' on him, and cursed him somethin' awful. He kep' it up till my mama, her name was Mariah, gits a butcher knife and runs out dere and say, 'Iffen you hits him 'nother lick, I'll use this on you.' Old Missy was watchin' and backed her up. So he quit beatin' on Taylor dat time. But one day dat white man's own son say to him, 'Iffen you don't quit beatin' on dem niggers, I'll knock you in de head.' Den he quit.

"Master was in de Confederate army. He gits to be a major and after he done come out dat war he sho' hated anythin' what was blue color. I got hold a old Yankee cap and coat and is wearin' dem and master yanks dem off and burns dem.

"We heared dem guns in de Lookout Mountain battle. Dey sounded like thunder, rumblin' low. One day de Feds done take Dayton and de soldiers goes by our place to drive dem Feds out. Dere a valley 'bout two miles wide 'twixt our place and Dayton and we could see de Confederate soldiers till dey go up de hill on de other side. Long in evenin' de Confederates come back through dat valley and they was travelin' with dem Yankees right after dem. Dey come by our house and we was gittin' out de way, all right. Old Missy took all us chillen, black and white, and puts us under half a big hogshead, down in de stormhouse.

"De Yankees got to de place and 'gin ransack it. Old Missy done lock dat stormhouse door and sot down on it and she wouldn't git up when dey done tell her to. So dey takes her by de arms and lifts her off it. Dey didn't hurt her any. Den dey brekks de lock and comes down in dere. I didn't see whay dey hadn't found us kids, 'cause my heart beatin' like de hammer. Dey turned dat hogshead over and all us kids skinned out dere like de Devil after us. One de Yanks hollers, 'Look what we done hatch out!'

"I tore out past de barn, thinkin' I'd go to mama, in de field, but it look like all de Yanks in de world jumpin' dere hosses over dat fence, so I whirls round and run in dat barn and dives in a stack of hay and buries myself so deep de folks like to never found me. Dey hunted all over de place befo' dey done found me. Us kids scart 'cause we done see dem Yanks' bayonets and thunk dey was dere horns.

"Dem Yanks done take all de flour and meal and wheat and corn and smoked meat. After dat master fixes up a place in de ceilin' to store stuff, and a trap door so when it closed you couldn't tell its dere.

"I lives in and round de old place till 1910, den comes to Texas. I jist works round and farms and gits by, but I ain't never done nothin' worth tellin'.

NELSEN DENSON, 90, was born near Hambirg, Arkansas, a slave of Jim Nelson, who sold Nelsen and his family to Felix Grundy. Nelsen's memory is poor, but he managed to recall a few incidents. He now lives in Waco, Texas.

"I'll be ninety years old this December, (1937). I was born in Arkansas, up in Ashley County, and it was the twenty-second day of December in 1847. My mammy was from Virginny and pappy was from old Kentucky, and I was one of they eight chillen. Our owner, Marse Jim Densen, brung us to Texas and settled near Marlin, but got in debt and sold as all to Marse Felix Grundy, and he kep' us till freedom, and most of us worked for him after that.

"Marse Jim Densen had a easy livin' in Arkansas, but folks everywhere was comin' to Texas and he 'cides to throw in his fortunes. It wasn't so long after that war with Mexico and folks come in a crowd to 'tect theyselves 'gainst Indians and wild animals. The wolves was the worst to smell cookin' and sneak into camp, but Indians come up and makes the peace sign and has a pow wow with the white folks. Marse git beads or cloth and trade for leather breeches and things.

"I want to tell how we crosses the Red River on de Red River Raft. Back in them days the Red River was near closed up by dis timber raft and de big boats couldn't git up de river at all. We gits a li'l boat, and a Caddo Indian to guide us. Dis Red River raft dey say was centuries old. De driftwood floatin' down de river stops in de still waters and makes a bunch of trees and de dirt 'cumulates, and broomstraws and willows and brush grows out dis rich dirt what cover de driftwood. Dis raft growed 'bout a mile a year and de oldes' timber rots and breaks away, but dis not fast 'nough to keep de river clear. We found bee trees on de raft and had honey.

"It was long time after us come to Texas when de gov'ment opens up de channel. Dat am in 1873. 'Fore dat, a survey done been made and dey found de raft am a hundred and twenty-eight miles long. When we was on dat raft it am like a big swamp, with trees and thick brush and de driftwood and logs all wedge up tight 'tween everything.

"'Fore Texas secedes, Marse Jensen done sell us all to Marse Felix Grundy, and he goes to war in General Hardeman's Brigade and is with him for bodyguard. When de battle of Mansfield come I'm sixteen years old. We was camped on the Sabine River, on the Texas side, and the Yanks on the other side a li'l ways. I 'member the night 'fore the battle, how the campfires looked, and a quiet night and the whippoorwills callin' in the weeds. We was 'spectin' a 'tack and sings to keep cheerful. The Yanks sings the 'Battle Cry of Freedom' when they charges us. They come on and on and, Lawd, how they fit! I stays clost to Marse Grundy and the rebels wins and takes 'bout a thousand Yanks.

"Most the slaves was happy, the ones I knowed. They figgers the white men fightin' for some principal, but lots of them didn't care nothin' 'bout bein' free. I s'pose some was with bad white folks, but not round us. We had more to eat and now I'm so old I wouldn't feel bad if I had old marse to look after me 'gain.

VICTOR DUHON was born 97 years ago in Lafayette Parish, La., a slave of the Duhon family. His blue eyes and almost white skin are evidence of the white strain in his blood. Even after many years of association with English speaking persons, he speaks a French patois, and his story was interpreted by a Beaumont French teacher.

"My papa was Lucien Duhon and my mama Euripe Dupuis. I was born over in Louisiana in Lafayette Parish, between Broussard and Warville. I'm 97 years old now.

"I didn't have brothers or sisters, except half ones. It is like this, my mama was a house servant in the Duhon family. She was the hairdresser. One day she barbered master's son, who was Lucien. He says that he'll shave her head if she won't do what he likes. After that she his woman till he marries a white lady.

"My grandmama was stolen from Africa and she lived to be 125 years old. She died last year in April. I think I'll live long as she did. There were fifteen slaves on the land what Duhon's had but I never ran around with them. I had room at the back of the big house. You know, Madame Duhon was my grandmama. She was good to me. The only thing I did was look to my master's horse and be coachman for Madame. Master had four sons. They were Ragant and Jaques and Lucien and Desire. Desire was shot at the dance.

"Master had about 100 acres in cotton and the corn. He had a slave for to hunt all the time. He didn't do other things. The partridge and the rice birds he killed were cooked for the white folks. The owls and the rabbits and the coons and the possums were cooked for us. They had a big room for us to eat in. Where they cook they had a long oven with a piece down the middle. They cooked the white folks things on one side. They cooked their own things on the other. They had each ones pots and skillets.

"I didn't play much with the black children. My time went waiting on my white folks.

"Sometimes the priest came to say Mass. The slaves went to Mass. The priest married and baptized the slaves. They gave a feast of baptizing. We all had real beef meat that day.

"When my mama had 22 years she married a Polite Landry slave. Then she went to the Landry plantation. There was often marrying between the two plantations. When they married the wife went to her man's plantation. That made no difference. It wouldn't be long before a girl from the other place marry into the man's plantation. That kept things in balance.

"My mama married Fairjuste Williams. They had two sons and a daughter. I didn't know them so much. They were half brothers and sister.

"I had 22 years when war came. You know what war I mean. The war when the slaves were set free. I wasn't bothered about freedom. Didn't leave master till he died. Then I went to work for Mr. Polite Landry.

"I was always in good hands. Some slaves ware treated bad. Mr. Natale Vallean beat up a slave for stealing. He beat him so hard he lay in front of the gate a whole day and the night.

"I worked on farms all my life. Then I came to Beaumont. About 23 years ago, it was. I worked at anything. Now I'm too old. I live with my daughter.