Well, no, I never lived on a plantation but my father's farm, where I was born on April 20, 1858. It was located right in a big plantation country, in Franklin co., Tenn. My closest association with slaves was when I was around a year old. At that time, my father bought a nigger boy to take care of me and be a companion when I got to be a little bigger. His name was Rufe , and he was a good nigger alright, but I don't recall much more about him than that he was as black as the ace of spades and as honest as the day's long. He could be trusted with anything, and to do anything he was set to do. That I recall, because the family talked so much about it after his parents came and got him just after the war was over - the Civil war, when the niggers were freed. Right now, I can't recall the name of the nigger family (Rufe's parents), but they came after him after they'd got their freedom and took him away. I wasn't with him much, anyway, after I got up big enough to ride a horse when I was about six years old, and I rode him everywhere. Then, another reason the nigger and I became separated was because dad took him to the field after he got big enough to do a man's work, and I was able to get around good for myself. The only plantation that I can recall the name of was the Robertson plantation, right across the river from us, in Lincoln county. There were around 60 slaves on it, as I recall from what my dad told me. There were any number of one and two-room log cabins where the niggers lived, although they were torn down when so many niggers left the place after freedom. If I recall it a-right, all the Robertson slaves left as soon as they could, and the only niggers ever to work the place came there from other plantations. I expect that was caused because Twitty , the Robertson plantation overseer, was so mean. Robertson himself lived in Winchester, Tenn., and only went to the plantation when he thought he was needed. Just to give you an idea of just how mean Twitty was, let me tell you about a visit dad and I made to the plantation sometime after the war. I was still an inquisitive kid, and when we went around the back of the overseer's cabin I saw an iron ring fixed into the wall of the chimney, about even with the fireplace inside. I also saw some black splots all around the ring. Dad told me the ring was used to tie the niggers to, and the black splots were real blood spots that had hit there and dried. You see, the niggers were whipped so hard that their blood splattered against the wall. Dad also said that a few niggers had died from whippings they got while tied to that ring.

Later on, that plantation was cut up into farms, and I courted my wife in that cabin. It was a whole lot nicer cabin than the ones the niggers lived in. Theirs had dirt floors, holes for windows but no glass, and no place to cook. All the niggers ate together like a bunch of convicts. One of the whippings I was a witness to happened at the old syrup mill close to our place. One of the Robertson niggers, named Josh (All their last names were Robertson , as other niggers took the name of the plantation owner where they were born), was on the south side of the river, passing by the mill. Mr. Pickett , who owned the mill and was a patterroller, hollered out, 'Nigger, you got a pass?'. Josh says, 'No sar, Marster Pickett , I'se forgot my pass dis time'. Mr. Pickett said: 'Well, c'mere. I'll give you something to make you remember your pass next time you leave the plantation'. Then he turned to his son and said, 'Jim , run get me a withe'. When his son came back with the withe, he started into whipping the nigger; and when the blood started running, somehow or other my feet started to running too, and the first thing I knew I found myself at home. I can hear yet how the nigger prayed and begged for mercy and lighter licks. If he'd have run, though, he'd have gotten a much harder licking when he did show up at home, so he had to stand and take it. The reason Josh was on that side of the river in the first place, was to sell his baskets. He made reed baskets to sell for money. That's the only way a slave had of getting any money, and all the niggers done different things to make a little money. You see, there was a law in Tennessee that if a nigger had enough money to buy his freedom, it was unlawful to hold him a slave. A plantation owner by the name of German , who ran a pretty big one on the other side of the Robertson place, gave each family an acre to work as they would, and he'd loan them the seed for whatever they wanted to raise. Most of the niggers just raised what they needed for a better table, but some of them planted their entire acre tracts in some kind of a money crop. Now there was a nigger we all called German , because that was his last name, and it was easy to say, that raised nothing but cotton, and sold it with his owner's crop each year. He was real thrifty and never spent a cent of his money. You see, they got all their clothes, food, and everything else they needed, right on the place, furnished free. Well, sometime along in '62. German had saved enough money to buy his freedom, and he done it. He was not only given his freedom, but Mr. German share-cropped a section with the nigger, and he made enough money the next year to buy his wife's freedom, which he also done, then paid down on a small farm in Moore county, next to Lincoln county.

Of course, it wasn't long 'til all the niggers were freed, but this gives you a picture of what could, and did happen in those days. Then there's another thing I knew of, which happened pretty often in different sections of the country. First, when a nigger was real talented, his price was considerably higher than the other niggers. Because of sentiment, talent, and other reasons, niggers were priced from $100.00 to around $3,500.00, and some niggers couldn't be bought at any price. There was a Southern Alabama doctor came through our country one time looking for a nigger he could put in charge of his plantation down there. He paid Stevens , who ran one in the Northern part of Franklin county, $2,000.00 for a good nigger, and took him home. He put this nigger in charge of a bunch of niggers, and there were seven or eight young, well muscled bucks, who wouldn't do anything he told them to do. They'd work awhile, then take their clothes off and go in swimming. He couldn't make them do anything, because any one of them could whip him in a fight. Then, when the doctor found that the work wasn't being done, he whipped the one he put in charge, 'til he cut his back all up. Then he told the nigger to go back out there and make those niggers work. He told the doctor what the trouble was, and the doctor told him to whip the niggers. Now, the niggers would let the doctor whip them, because he was the master and owned them, but they wouldn't let another nigger whip them because he was a nigger the same as they were. The nigger went back, anyway, and tried to make a go of it, but he couldn't, and the doctor whipped him again. The doctor told him: 'I paid $2,000.00 for you so I could use you as an overseer of the work, and I intend for you to do just that'. At least, that was what the nigger told his first owner when he came back. After he got his second whipping, he made his mind up to go back home, and told a nigger woman to cook him some bread. He said, 'I'm going away from this place; I'm going to run off'. The woman liked to have not cooked him the bread then, but he told her that he'd never give her away, and she cooked him seven or eight corn pones. Then, he ran away.The doctor followed him all the way back to the old plantation. When the nigger got home, he told Stevens what all had happened. The next day, the doctor got there, and he asked Stevens if the nigger was there. Stevens told him he was, then the doctor said he wanted to sell him back because the nigger was no good. He sold him back for $1,000.00.

We had a hard time for awhile after the war, because the soldiers got all of our stuff. We still had our farm, though, and dad had his money he'd hid after the war started. The main reason we had such a hard time was because we couldn't get any price for our stuff we raised. Then, taxes took a good part of our money. Another thing, labor got pretty high according to the price a man got because the Government made the growers pay a good wage for the help they had been getting for nothing. That all made it pretty hard. Then, to top it all off, crooked politics put the nigger in a better position than the white man for awhile. Orators would go through the country, agitating the question and talking the niggers up. Men would come to our place, from time to time, and ask the help how much money they were getting. If they didn't say enough, then there was trouble. They were supposed to get around $4.00 a week, and that was high for wages in those days.It's a funny thing, in a way, why I can recall the things that happened when I was a kid, better than I can those when I got older. But it's true, and I've about come to the end of my string where I can't tell you much more about the niggers at all. I am sorry that I am not much good on dates, but I've told this as well as I could.