You chilluns all go 'way now, while I talks to dis gen'man. I 'clares to goodness, chilluns nowadays ain't got no manners 'tall. 'Tain't like when I was li'l, dey larnt you manners and you larnt to mind, too. Nowadays you tell 'em to do somethin' and you is jes' wastin' you breath, 'less you has a stick right handy. Dey is my great grandchilluns, and dey sho' is spoilt. Maybe I ain't got no patience no more, like I use to have, 'cause dey ain't so bad. Well, suh, you all wants me to tell you 'bout slave times, and I'll tell you first dat I had mighty good white folks, and I hope dey is gone up to Heaven. My mama 'long to Marse John Cardwell , what I hear was de riches' man and had de bigges' plantation round Concord Depot. Dat am in Campbell County, in Virginny. I don't 'member old missy's name, but she mighty good to de slaves, jes' like Marse John was. Mama's name was Isabella and she was de cook and born right on de plantation. Papa's name was Gibson , his first name was Jim , and he 'long to Marse Gibson what had a plantation next to Marse John , and I knows papa come to see mama on Wednesday and Sat'day nights. Lemme see, now, dere was six of us chilluns. My mem'ry ain't so good no more, but Charley was oldes', den come Dolly and Jennie and Susie and me and Laura . Law me, I guess old Dr. Bass , what was doctor for Marse John , use to be right busy with us 'bout once a year for quite a spell. Dem times dey don't marry by no license. Dey takes a slave man and woman from de same plantation and puts 'em together, or sometime a man from 'nother plantation, like my papa and mama. Mamma say Marse John give 'em a big supper in de big house and read out de Bible 'bout obeyin' and workin' and den dey am married.

Course, de nigger jes' a slave and have to do what de white folks say, so dat way of marryin' 'bout good as any. But Marse John sho' was de good marse and we had plenty to eat and wear and no one ever got whipped. Marse John say iffen he have a nigger what oughta be whipped, he'd git rid of him quick, 'cause a bad nigger jes' like a rotten 'tater in a sack of good ones  it spoil de others. Back dere in Virginny it sho' git cold in winter, but come September de wood gang git busy cuttin' wood and haulin' it to de yard. Dey makes two piles, one for de big house and de bigges' pile for de slaves. When dey git it all hauled it look like a bit woodyard. While dey is haulin', de women make quilts and dey is wool quilts. Course, dey ain't made out of shearin' wool, but jes' as good. Marse John have lots of sheep and when dey go through de briar patch de wool cotch on dem briars and in de fall de women folks goes out and picks de wool off de briers jes' like you picks cotton. Law me, I don't know nothin' 'bout makin' quilts out of cotton till I comes to Texas. Course I never done no work, 'cause Marse John won't work no one till dey is fifteen years old. Den dey works three hours a day and dat all. Dey don't work full timetill dey's eighteen. We was jes' same as free niggers on our place. He gives each slave a piece of ground to make de crop on and buys de stuff hisself. We growed snap beans and corn and plant on a light moon, or turnips and onions we plant on de dark moon. When I gits old 'nough Marse John lets me take he daughter, Nancy Lee , to school. It am twelve miles and de yard man hitches up old Bess to de buggy and we gits in and no one in dat county no prouder dan what I was. Marse John lets us go visit other plantations and no pass, neither. Iffen de patterroller stop us, we jes' say we 'long to Marse John and dey don't bother us none. Iffen dey comes to our cabin from other plantations, dey has to show de patterroller de pass, and iffen dey slipped off and ain't got none, de patterroller sho' give a whippin' den. But dey waits till dey off our place, 'cause Marse John won't 'low no whippin' on our place by no one. Well, things was jes' 'bout de same all de time till jes' 'fore freedom. Course, I hears some talk 'bout bluebellies, what dey call de Yanks, fightin' out folks, but dey wasn't fightin' round us. Den one dey mamma took sich and she had hear talk and call me to de bed and say, 'Lucinda , we all gwine be free soon and not work 'leas we git paid for it.' She sho' was right, 'cause Marse John calls all us to de cookhouse and reads de freedom papers to us and tells us we is all free, but iffen we wants to stay he'll give us land to make a crop and he'll feed us. Now I tells you de truth, dey wasn't no one leaves, 'cause we all loves Marse John . Qon, jus' three weeks after freedom mama dies and dat how come me to leave Marse John . You see, Marse Gibson what owns papa 'fore freedom, was a good marse and when papa was not free Marse Gibson gives him some land to farm. 'Course, papa was gwine have us all with him, but when mamma dies, Marse Gibson tell him Mr. Will Jones and Miss Susie , he wife, want a nurse girl for de chilluns, so papa hires me out to 'em and I want to say right now, dey jes' as good white folks as Marse John and Old Missy, and sho' treated me good. Law me, I never won't forgit one day. Mr. Will say, 'Lucinda , we is gwine drive you over to Appomatox and take de chilluns and you can come, too.' Course, I was tickled mos' to pieces but he didn't tell what he gwine for. You know what,  to see a nigger hung. I gettin' long mighty old now, but I won't never forgit dat. He had kilt a man, and I never saw so many people 'fore, what dere to see him hang. I jes' shut my eyes. Den Mr. Will he take me to de big tree what have all de bark strip off it and de branches strip off, and say, 'Lucinda , dis de tree where Gen. Lee surrendered.' I has put dese two hands right on dat tree, yes, suh, I sho' has. Miss Susie say one day, 'Lucinda , how you like to go with us to Texas?' Law me, I didn't know where Texas was at, or nothin', but I loved Mr. Will an Miss Susie and de chilluns was all wrap up in me, so I say I'll go. And dat how come I'm here, and I ain't never been back, and I ain't see my own sisters and brother and papa since. We come to New Orleans on de train and takes de boat on de Gulf to Galveston and den de train to Hempstead. Mr. Will farm at first and den he and Miss Susie run de hotel, and I stays with dem till I gets married to Will Elder in '75, and I lives with him till de good Lawd takes him home. I has five chilluns but all dead now, 'ceptin' two. I done served de Lawd now for 64 years and soon he's gwine call old Lucinda , but I'm ready and I know I'll be better off when I die and go to Heaven, 'cause I'm old and no 'count now.

Lucinda Elder , 86 years old., of 1007 Edwards St., Houston, Tex., was born during slavery on the plantation of John Cardwell , near Concord Dept, Campbell County, Va. She remained a slave of 'Marse John ' as she calls him, until set free, after which she hired out as a nurse girl to Will Jones and his wife, Mis' Susie , coming to Texas with them when they moved to Texas in the late 1860's.

You chilluns all go 'way now while I talks to dis gen'men. I 'clares to goodness, chillun now'days ain't got no manners 'tall. 'Tain't like when I was little,  de learnt you manners an' you learnt to mind, too. Now'days you tell 'em to do somethin', an' you is jes' wastin' your breath 'less you has a stick right handy. Dey is my great gran' chillun an' dey sure is spoilt. Maybe I ain't got so much patience no more like I use to have, 'cause dey ain't much bad. Well suh, you all wants me to tell you 'bout slave times, an' I'll tell you fust dat I had mighty good white folks, an' I hope dey is gone up to Heaven. My Mamma belong to Marse John Cardwell what I hear was de richest man an' had de biggest plantation aroun' Concord Depot in Virginny. I don't 'member what his old Missy's name was,  call her Old Missy, but she was mighty good to de slaves, jes' like Marse John was. I know dey had lots of slaves but I don't know how many 'cause I was too little to know much 'bout dat. Mamma's name was Isabella , an' she was de cook an' was born right on de same plantation. Papa's name was Gibson , his fust name was Jim , an' he belong to Marse Gibson what had a plantation next to Marse John , an' I 'members papa come to see mamma on Wednesday an' Satidy nights. Lemme see now, dere was six of us chillun. My mem'ry ain't so good no more sometimes, but I see can I call 'em. Charley , he was de oldest, den come Dolly , an' Jenny , an' Susie , an Lucinda   dat's me, an' Laura . Dat makes six of us, don't it?

Law me, I guess old Dr. Bass what was de doctor for Marse John , use to be right busy with us 'bout once a year for quite a spell, 'cause I 'members mamma sayin' each one of us chillun come 'bout a year apart. Dem times dey don't marry by no license like dey now. Sometime dey takes a slave man an' woman from de same plantation an' puts 'em together, an' sometime dey takes a man from a neighbor plantation an' puts him with a woman from our plantation, jes' like dey do my mamma an' papa. I hear mamma say Marse John give her an' papa a big supper in de house, an' den read to 'em outen de Bible 'bout obeyin' an' workin', an' den tells 'em dey is married. Course a nigger was jes' a slave an' dey had to do what de white folks told 'em to, so I guess dat way of marryin' was 'bout as good as any. But Marse John sure was a good marster. We has plenty to eat an' plenty clothes to wear, an' no one ever got whipped on our place. Marse John say iffen he has a nigger what oughter be whipped, he get rid of him quick, 'cause he say a bad nigger is jes' like a rotten 'tater in a sack of good ones,  it'll spoil de others. Back dere in Virginny it sure gits cold in de winter, but come September de wood gang gets busy cuttin' wood an' haulin' it up to de yard. Dey makes two piles,  one for Marse John's house an' de bigges' one for de slaves. I 'clare when dey git it all hauled up it look jes' like a big wood yard. While de men folks is haulin' de wood, de women make quilts, an' dey is wool quilts, too. Course dey ain't made outen de shearin' wool, but dey is jes' as good. Marse John had lots of sheep, an' when dey go through a briar patch, de wool catches on de briars, an' in de Fall de women folks goes out an' picks de wool off de briars jes' like you picks cotton. Law me I didn't know nothin' 'bout makin' quilts outen cotton 'till I comes to Texas. Course I never did no work 'cause Marse John wouldn't work no one 'til dey is 15 years old. Den he goes out with 'em himself an' dey works 3 hours a day an' dat's all. Dey don't work full time on Marse John's place 'til dey is 18. But law me, I hear of lots of marsters what sure was mean to de slaves. Why Marse John was so good to his slaves, we was jes' de same as free niggers. Like I told you, he has lots of land, an' gives each one of his slaves a piece of ground what dey can make a crop on, an' den buys de stuff what we raise. An' he lets de slaves raise dere own garden truck, too,  snap beans, corn, tomatoes, carrots, turnips, potatoes an' lots more. I 'members de stuff what grow on top of de groun' like snap beans an' corn, we plant on a light moon, an' what grows in de groun' like turnips an' onions, we plant on a dark moon. When I gets old enough, Marse John lets me take Maney Lee , dat was de daughter, to school. De school house was 'bout two miles from de plantation, an' de yard man hitch up old Bess to de buggy an' brung it up to de house. Den Nancy Lee gets in an' den I do, an' I guess dey wasn't no one in de whole country dat was prouder den I was. I can't read much but dat was my papa's fault, 'cause de teacher say if papa buys me a readin' book he will teach me, but he can't let me use de white chillun's book. But papa wouldn't buy me de readin' book an' dat's why I ain't got no learnin. Yas suh, I guess we was lots better off den lots of slaves I hear 'bout. Marse John let us go visit to de neighbor plantations on Sundays an' we didn't have to have no pass neither. Iffen a paddy-roller hear much talk from de cabin, dey knock on de door an' say 'who's dere'? We had to open de door, an' iffen folks from other plantations is in de house, dey has to show a pass, an' iffen dey has slipped off an' ain't got none, de paddy-roller sure give 'em a whippin'. But dey waits 'til dey gets 'em offen our plantation 'cause Marse John won't 'low no whippin' on de place by no one.

Well, things was jes' 'bout de same all de time 'til jes' 'fore freedom. "Course I hear some talk 'bout de 'Bluebellies', what dey call de Yanks, fightin' our folks, but I was so young I didn't pay it no mind, 'cause dey wasn't fightin' 'round us. Den one day mamma was took sick an' she had hear talk, an' she call me to de bed an' say 'Lucinda , we's all goin' to be free soon an' not have to work 'less we gets paid for it'. She sure was right 'cause one day not long after she told me, Marse John calls all de slaves to de cook house an' reads de freedom papers to us, an' tells us we is all free to do what we wants to, but iffen we wants to stay he would give us all land to make a crop on an' would feed us. Now I tells you de truth, dey wasn't no one left de plantation 'cause we all loved Marse John . Den jes' three weeks after freedom, mamma died an' dat's how come me to leave Marse John . You see, Marse Gibson what owne papa 'fore freedom, was a good marster too, an' when papa was set free Marse Gibson gives him some land to farm. 'Course papa was goin' to have us all with him, but when mamma died, Marse Gibson tell him Mr. Will Jones an' Miss Susie , his wife, want a nurse girl for dere chillun, so papa hires me out to 'em an' I want to say right now, dey was jes' as good white folks as Marse John an' old Missy, an' sure treated me good. Law me, I never won't forget one day. Mr. Will say 'Lucinda , we is goin' to drive over to Appomatox an' take de chillun an' you can come, too.' Course I was tickled mos' to pieces, but he didn't tell me what he was goin' for. You know what? We went to see a nigger hung. I'se gettin' long mighty old now, but I won't never forget dat. He had kilt a man, an' I never saw so many people before, what was dere to see him hung. I jes' shut my eyes an' wouldn't look 'til dey say he's hung. Den Mr. Will takes to a big tree what has all de bark offen it an' de branches all stripped off, an' say, 'Lucinda , dis is de tree whar General Lee surrendered', an' I has put dese two hands right on dat tree,  yes suh, I sure has. Miss Susie say one day, 'Lucinda , how you like to go with us to Texas?' Law me, I didn't know whar Texas was at nor nothin', but I loved Mr. Will an' Miss Susie , an' de chillun was all wropped up with me, so I say I go whar dey go iffen dey want me to. An' dat's how come I' e here, an' I ain't never been back an' I ain 't see my own sisters an' brother or my papa since. We come to New Orleans on de train, an' takes de boat on de Gulf to Galveston, an' den de train to Hempstead. Mr. Will farm at fust, den he an' Miss Susie run de hotel, an' I stays with dem 'til I gets married to Will Elder in '75, an' I lived with him 'til de good Lord takes him home. I'se had five chillun but all's dead now 'ceptin' two. I'se served de Lord now for 64 years, an' soon He's goin' to call old Lucinda . But I'se ready, an' I know I'll be better off when I die an' go to Heaven, 'cause I'se so old an' no 'count now.