Elvira Boles

Elvira Boles , 94, has outlived nine of her ten children. She lives at 3109 Manzana St., El Paso, Texas, with her daughter Minnie . She was born a slave of the Levi Ray family near Lexington, Holmes County, Mississippi, and was sold as a child to Elihn Boles , a neighbor plantation owner. During the last year of Civil War she was brought with other refugee slaves to Texas, where she has lived since that time. "I just member my first marster and mistress cause she don want me there," Elvira said. "Ise a child of the marster. Dey didn't tell me how old I was when dey sold me to Boles .  Ray , his wife, she sold me. Dey tuk us to where dere was a heap o' white people down by the coaht-house (courthouse) and we'd be there in lots and den de whites 'ud bid fo us. Man bought me was Elihn Boles . I don know how old I was, but I washed dishes at de marster's house. Den dey put me in the fields. We don git a nickel in slavery. Marster didn't have many slaves on de farm, but lots in brick yard. I worked in field and brick yard. Toted brick back and put em down where dey had to be. Six bricks each load all day. That's the reason I ain't no-count. Ise worked to death. I fiahed (fired) the furnace for three years. Stan'in front wid hot fiah (fire) on my face. Hard wok, but God was wid me. We'd wok till dark, quit awhile after sundown. Marster was good to slaves. Don't believe in just lashing em. He'd not be brutal but he'd kill em dead right on the spot. Ova-seers'd git after em and whop em down. Right smart slaves at mill belonged to Elihn Boles . Ise seventeen, maybee when I mahhied (married). Married to slave of Boles . Mahhied on Saturday night. Dey give me a dres, and dey had things to eat - let me have something like what you call a pauty (party). We just had common cloes. And then I had to wok evva day. I'd leave mah baby cryin in the yard and I'd be cryin, but I couldn't stay. Don evvy thing but split rails. Ive cut timber. Git up on the logs (that high) for the men to split an ah ploughed. Don evvy thing a man could do. I couldn't notice the time, but I'd be glad to git back to my baby. Log cabins had dirt floor, sometimes plankin down. I woked late and made pretty quilts. Sometimes dey let us have a party. Saturday nights, sometimes, the white people give us meat and stuff. Give us syrup and we'd make candy, out in the yard. We'd ask our friends and dance all night. Den go to wok next day. Wed clean off de yard and dance out dere. Christmas come, dey give us a big egg-nog and give us cake. Our white folks did. White folk's chillen had candy. We didn't git any bought candy, but dey let us play wid the white chillen. They was three or four. We'd play smut. "The white folks'd give us cards and who evva beat, he git to smut yuh. Take de smut from fiah-place and rub on yo face. I've been smut lots o times. Doctor take care of us iffen we sick, so's git us well to git us up to wok. I had long nair. I nevva cut it. I'se one of em, iffen dey had a pretty girl dey would take em and my oldest child, he boy by Boles , almost white. We had to steal away at night to have church on de ditch bank, and crawl home on de belley. Once ovaseers heard us prayin, give us one day each 100 lashes. Den when the Yankees come through, dey would be good to the slaves to keep dem from tellin on em. Dey Yankees would tear up de place. Marsa'd hide de silver and de Yanks dug it up and cahhied it away. Freedom was declared January first '65 but de slaves didn't know it till June 19. We'se refugees, young mistress and masta brought us out. Boles our marster, sent us out by dem. Cum from Holmes County to Cherokee County in a wagon. We was a dodgin in and out, runnin from de Yankees. Marsa said dey was runnin us from Yankees to keep us, but we was free and didn't know it. We traveled day and night about a week in and out. Ah lost mah baby, its buried some where on de road. Died at Red River and we left it. Me and mah motha and husban and dat baby. De white folks go out and buy food along de road and hide us. Dey said we could neva be free iffen dey could git to Texas wid us, but dese people what brought us to Texas tole me den I was free. Dey turn us loose in the world. Not a penny. Oh, dey was awful times. We just woked about frum place to place after freedom. Hiahd (hired) to white people by month, week, day. Fo we started from Holmes county all de culled people was run out of dere houses and dey toll us de Yankees would kill us iffen dey foun us. Dey say "you ain't got no time to take nothin to whar you goin. "Take you little bundle and leave all you had in your house in Mississippi and started to run away to keep us frum being free. I just had one suit of cloes. What I had on. Dat's de way all de colled people was. Nevva had nothin but what had on back. Some of blacks had woked around and had right smart in dere cabins. Well we was skeered. I left everythin. Nevva have laid eyes on nothin there. Bed cloes and evvy thing you had was left. I worked nights to piece my quilts. Evva Christmas they'd give us a new calico dress and we'd piece up de old ones. And I nevva seed any Yankees. All we seed was de Southern

Elvira Boles , 94, has outlived nine of her ten children. She lives at 3109 Manzana St., El Paso, Texas, with her daughter, Minnie . She was born a slave of the Levi Ray family near Lexington, Mississippi, and was sold as a child to Elign Boles , a neighboring plantation owner. During the last year of the Civil War she was brought to Texas, with other refugee slaves.