Marster Chapin Seley , and Marse Dan Wise , Judge Eugene Williams , and Newt Williams , Marse Charles Sanger and Marse F. H. Vorley-Wright , that writes poetry and Marse Allen Sanford that was City Attorney at that time, they all used to meet and have a big time and eat at a cafe where I used to work. In them days all the men was powerful proud of how they could shoot. And one day they was all settin' at the table drinkin' an' talkin'. Their table was under the skylight. One of the big men in Waco leaned over to Marse Sanford and low as how he bet he could kill a fly that was on the ceiling up above them. Marse Sanford jes' though hit was a joke and he bet that the man couldn't. That man jes' pull out he forty-five and let hit go. The glass from the skylights come a tinklin' down all over the table and the smoke and smell of gunpowder was every where. The man that shot, he jes' lunged right through the crowd and us heard he hoss go clippety-clop as he spurred madly away from there. La! them was the days.

Miss Effie Zuma , my Mistis, her folks used to fight the Mexicans and they had a big plantation and lots of slaves. The slaves made mos' of the close; they picked the cotton off the seed by hand and spun hit into thread, then wove the cloth and dyed hit diff'unt colors; and sewed hit into clothes by hand. They made mos' of their fernichure in them days; and lots of dishes was whittled out of wood; they made their shoes and raised mos' of the food. There was lots of wild things in the bottoms and out on the prairie, the prairie chickens was thick as could be. No, the slaves didn't have any money that I knows about but us didn't need any. The white folks had sto'e boughten close and shoes but they wo'e the home made ones too. There was linsey woolsey cloth that was mighty good to wear. W'en us got sick old Mis' doctored us and if us git too bad they would send for their own doctor. You see, a good slave was worth a lot of money and they didn't let one that got sick die, if they could help it and they didn't low the overseer to scar them up 'cause that would ruin the sale of a sarbant. Us made our own soap with lye dripped from wood ashes and the scraps and skins of meat. Hit was a long way to a doctor and mos' of the women, white and colored larned to be right good doctors themselves. There was no trained nusses then that I knows about. The neighbors come in and hope nuss when there was sickness in the fambly. Mos' all the slaves wimmin was right good doctors themselves. They git their medicine out of the woods, and the old folks knowed lots of way to cure things. I allus has heard that if you cross pins over a wart and then hide the pins where no one can find 'em the warts will sho' go away. You can git rid of a corn on your foot by rubbin' hit with store bought soap or lemon juice. If a kernel on your body swell up, jes' go to the chimbly git some soot and mark a cross on the kernel with this soot and hit will git all right. May rain water is good for mos' any ailment. W'ite sassafras root tea is good for blindness.

W'en a sty comes on your eye steal someboddy's dish rag and rub the sty with hit, then throw the rag over your left shoulder at a cross road at midnight, but hit's bes' to throw the rag over your left shoulder over a bridge at midnight. If you git the scrofula and want to cure hit, git a lot of china berry roots and poke roots and some bluestone and boil them all together strain and make a salve to rub on the sores. Then anoint them with a black chicken feather dipped in pure hog lard. This brings the sores to a head and then you can press out the cores and you are cured. Lime water is a fine tonic, especially in the spring of the year. If you eat too fast, you sho' gwine marry too young. Hit's sho' bad luck to sing while you eats, 'cause you gwine git disappointed. If you take the last piece of bread on the plate, you will sho' be an old maid or an old bachelor. And if you eat with your hat on you'll not get all you want to eat; and if you lick your plate, Santa Claus will sho' cut your tongue off. I keeps dat penny on a string 'roun' my neck to keep from having indigestion. If you save the inside lining of a chicken gizzard that is good for indigestion too. The old folks say that if you are having hard pains to git some one to put an axe in the bed with you because that will cut the pains. And they say to wash your face in dew for nine mornings to cure the tetter. If you git your heels frost bit, smoke 'em with pine top or rub the heels with a roasted turnip. If you wants to keep your man true to you all the time allers keep some hair offen he head under the band of your hat or pinned in your purse. W'en you is makin' jelly or butter or soap allers stir to the right. And stir your cake with the clock if you want hit to be good. If you will stick three or five clean six-penny nails in the chicken when you cook hit that will make hit tender. Don't ever burn the egg shells 'cause that will bring sorrow. If you let the bread fall when you take hit out of the oven that's a sho' sign of a death.

Bad luck will sho' come if you turn a loaf of bread upside down. If you spill your dish-water you'll lose your sweetheart. It will break your frienship to borrow salt or pepper and if you return hit that is bad luck. Every time you peel an onion be sho' to burn the peelins and that will bring good luck. But hit's sho' bad luck to burn food, 'cause you are shure to go hungry soon. If you sit on a table you is sho' to be disappointed. Don't ever put your umbrella on the bed 'cause hit is sho' to bring bad luck and if you put hit on the bed of a friend then you all is sho' gwine fall out. It's bad luck to take water out of a pail while hit is on your head. When an umbrella is raised in a house, dat am a sho' sign dat a coffin am gwine to be brought in for some ob the fambly. Don' nebber leabe the i'ronin' bo'd up ober night. Effen' you set on a ironin' bo'd, you'll sho' fail to git a husban'. Mammy allers tell de chillun on the yard dat effen you mark on the chimbley or the house, you gwine git a whippin' an' your back will be marked dat self same way. Us was allers tolt nebber to drink the coffee out ob a sasser an' nebber to drink all the coffee in your cup, kase effen' you do you sho' gwine cry befo' the day am ober. Oh, dar's lots ob things the ole folks allers tellin' us an' dey sho' am true. Sech as you will hab bad luck all the day effen' you git up on the lef' side ob the bed. Move a sick pusson's bed an' dey sho' gwine die. Git up late on Monday an' you'll be late all the week. Sing befo' brekfus' an' you gwine cry befo' supper. Laugh befo' brekfus' an' you gwine cry befo' supper. Sing befo' sunrise an' git whipped befo' night. Hit's awful bad luck to sweep atter dark, you'll sho' sweep out some member of de fambly. Jes' sweep the dirt up in a corner an' carry hit out the nex' mo'nin'. W'en you sweep the floor effen you leabe dirt in the middle ob the floor some one is comin'. To lose a hair pin am the sign dat you gwine lose a frien'. Nebber comb your hair at night, kase dat will make you forgitful. Gran'ma uset to tell us 'bout cuttin' our nails an' what would happen effen' us cut finger nails on certain week days. Hit was lak this: Cut your finger nails on Monday, an' you cut them for news; on Tuesday, for a pair ob new shoes; on Wednezday, an' you gwine trabbel soon; on Thursday, gwine be sickness; on Friday, git some money; on Sadday, see your lover on Sunday; on Sunday, an' the debbil will hab you all the week. W'en you drop the scissors, be sho' to close 'em befo' you pick 'em up or you'll hab bad luck. Don' sew or wash or iron on New Years' Day, or dar will be some member ob the fambly die befo' the year git gone. W'en you leabe rags or clothes hangin' on the fence or on the clothes' line on New Year's Eve, dar will be bad luck followin' your footsteps all the year. Dar was lots ob the 'portant folkses dat come to see

Marse Zuma an' the folks. Dar wuzn't none ob the Freedom War dat come close to us but I 'members some things dat happen dat time. Dar wuzn't no coffee dat the w'ite folks could buy an' us parched corn an' uset hit for coffee. I don' 'member, but I hears Mammy say dat the war didn't bodder the niggers much 'bout the eatin' part, kase us raised mos' what us wanted an' dar was some wild stuff dat could be kilt by the men folks. But Mammy say dat ole Mis' Effie didn't git the things she wanted to eat nor to wear in the clothes line. Our w'ite folks an' the Murrah fambly visited lots an' one ob the Murrah boys, name Pendleton , he git to be the Gobernor of Texas, but he didn't finish the Gobernor job up quite all the time, kase the Yankees whip the South an' my w'ite folks allers told me dat Marse Pendleton , he 'fraid dat the Yankees gwine cotch him an' throw him in jail lak us all done hear dat dey done to Marse Gobernor Moore back in Alabama whar us w'ite folks habe their kinfolks. I hears my Mammy say dat our w'ite Mis' tol' her meny a time dat dey put Marse Gobernor Moore in the Fort at Monroe. Marse Pendleton he hab the slaves git he fastest hosses an' right quick he git hesself ready an' leabe to git to ole Mexico. One ob the friens ob the fambly was Ginner'l Bankhead McGruder . An' he gits wid Marse Pendleton an' dey starts off to Mexico. Two ob the trusted sarbants want to go long wid 'em. Dey gits erlong 'bout to whar dey call hit San Angelo now, an' struck camp one night. Atter a while, two hossmen come up an' dey kin tell dat dey hab come a long way an' come fas', kase dey hosses sho' dat was what happen. I hab heard my Mammy tell 'bout hit meny a time, an' she had heard ole Marse tell hit an' Miss Effie . One ob the men askt if Gobernor Murrah was dar. Well, Marse Pendleton he don' sho' dat dese men was Yankees atter him, an' he git his ole gun ready. But atter awhile, hit come out dat dis man dat was askin' had a brodder in the pentenshary an' he an he friens had git up a paper to let dis here brodder out ob the pen. An' he had come to beg Marse Pendleton to sign a paper to let he brodder git free (a pardon). Dis man say he don' gone to Austin, an' Marse Pendleton not dar. But he don' git de Gobernor's clerk to put dat big Texas seal on a paper an' all dat Marse Pendleton got to do am to write he name on hit an' he brodder git free. But Marse Pendleton he say he don' run 'way f'om dat Austin place an' he not Gobernor no mo'. An' he not got no right to sign dat paper. But he did write he name on hit. Marse McGruder say turn all the prisoners out, Pendleton, an' let 'em gib a welcome to the dam Yankees. Marse Pendleton was a shy, little man. He was jes' as gentle as a woman.

He died in Monterey, Mexico, the las' year ob the war. All our w'ite folks was sho' sorry 'bout dat. I am old an' shaky now, but I kin see the things jes' plain ez if hit happen jes' yesterday. The slaves jes' went wild 'roun our place w'en the w'ite folks tolt them dey was free as the w'ite folks. Mos' ob dem didn't know noddin' 'bout how to do to make a livin' an' dey jes' had a lot ob fool notions 'bout how the Yankees gwine do so much for dem. Mos' ob the people dat come down here f'om the North to run things had nebber had no property an' they jes' make things in a tangle, my w'ite Mis' say. The slaves, dey lay 'roun' some ob 'em an' didn't try to wukk nor noddin'. Den some ob dem, mosly the young ones, dey git to stealin' an' fightin' an' cuttin' up an' den dar comes what dey call de Klu Klux. An' all ob us git scairt. But my Mammy an' Daddy, dey git a little place an' dey goes to wukk to make a crop an' Mammy say noboddy gwine bodder you effen you wukk an' stay home off de roads at night an' 'tend to your buziness. Den my Daddy die an' us an' Mammy wukk 'roun' 'mongst the w'ite folks jes' bes' us can to make a livin'. I git to larn to read mos' eny thing an' to write a little an' my brodder did to, but Mammy jes' larn to read. Mis' Effie larnt her to read the Bible. Durin' slavery times, the Zuma slaves kin pray at their cabins but dar wuzn't no odder w'ite folks dat 'low dat, an' us didn't hab no slaves but the ones on our plantation at the prayins. No'm, I didn't nebber go to no ring prayins. Mammy tell dat she seed dem auction the slaves on the block, but I nebber did. Marse didn't hab no oberseer an' I nebber seed no slaves in chains or in jail, 'cept w'en dey git drunk, or fight. Dar was some ole wimmin dat was the seventh chile ob a seventh chile, an' dey could sho' see things. I don' know 'bout speerits or ghosts. I ain' lookin' for none. Atter freedom, the folks (negroes), uset to hab a big time at camp meetins an' picnics an' sech. I guess dat watermillion, 'possum, an' sweet taters is what I likes the bes' to eat. Dat song 'bout 'Roll, Jordan, Roll' is a fine song.