Texas Slave Narratives

Texas Slave Narrative

  Aaron Nunn

Aaron Nunn , 81, was born a slave on February 9, 1857, on the Tom Nunn cotton plantation, six miles west of Brenham, Washington County. His father was Aaron Nunn Sr ., a blacksmith on the Nunn plantation; his mother, Betty Nunn , was a cook on the plantation. At the age of 18, Aaron Jr . was married to Betty Chappel . They had seven children, of whom six still are living.

Fathaw's name was Aaron Nunn Sr . His fathaw was named Aaron , too. Fathaw was a small-sized man, about lak me. I used to be heavier, but I weigh only one hunnert and thutty-eight pounds. Fathaw was a blacksmith on Mawster Tommy Nunn's cotton plantation. He sure could make good plows, and other things in his shop. Fathaw died at a good old age in 1900. Mothaw was a tol'able tall woman, and her name was Betty Nunn . I reckon dat she weighed about one hunnert and eighty pounds. She was de cook on Mawster Nunn's place. Mothaw had thutteen chillun. Seben of dem is still livin'. I'm de only boy livin'. Mothaw has been dead since 1881. My name is Aaron Nunn Jr . I was bawn on February 9, 1857, on Mawster Tommy Nunn's place, dat was on Injun Creek, about six miles west f'om de town of Brenham, Washington County. I had to help pittle around in de big house, and help bring in wood and sich. Dere was times when I had to help a little wid de sold fo' twenty, twenty-five and forty cents. Dem baskets was used fo' pickin' cotton and fo' gatherin' cawn; de one dollah split-ashwood baskets was used by de ladies fo' dere sewin' baskets. I got married when I was about eighteen. I married Betty Chappel , f'om Chappel Hill. Her mawster had been John Chappel .

We had seben chillun: Elizabeth , Annie , Josephine , Liza , Ross , Ed , and Tommy . Tommy died when he was young. All of de others is still livin'. Fathaw den bought two hunnert acres at Nunnsville. Fo' de first hunnert acres, he paid five cents a acre, and had five years to pay it in; de other hunnert acres cost one dollah and a half a acre, paid in cash. He made a lot of his money wid his blacksmith shop. When I got married, I rented fifty acres f'om Joe Beeman , in Lee County. I plowed wid two yokes of oxen. Dey was slow, but dey was able to do de work. Yo' could plow deep wid 'em, and dat would make good crops. De country would be better off, if dey used oxen now. Yo' didnt have to feed 'em much. In de spring, dey would git dere own feed by foragin' fo' it in de green grass; and dey'd look fat and sleek, anyhow. We stayed wid Mr. Beeman fo' about two years. Mothaw died, and me and my wife went back to live wid my fathaw. He built a little house fo' us. He rented me some land on de halfs. We stayed wid him fo' four years. Den we rented our own place, about a mile away. I jes' wanted to move, and dere was no trubble between us. Den I took up fathaw's blacksmith shop at Nunnsville. He done got too old to do much work. Fathaw done dat kind of work, I done it and now my boy, Ross , is a blacksmith here in Manor. Manor is a putty good place. We used to fahm around here fo' awhile, but crops was too bad. It was all right when de cotton was high. And den my wife died about three years ago. I'm jes' batchin' it here alone in a small house. I'm doin' it jes' 'cause I hate to leave Ross ; but I ain't in good health. I've been ruptured putty bad fo' about eighteen years. It hurts me more now dan it used to. I reckon dat I got day way f'om shoeing mules in de gravel-pit at Ledbetter. I was doin' dis work fo' Mr. Frank McLellan . He had a big gravel pit and sold de gravel to de railroad companies. He had a contract to load so many freights a week. I got one dollah and a half a day fo' my work. Me and my twin brother, William , worked at dis fo' about eight years. We was jes' lak our own bosses, but shoein' mules was dangerous business, if yo didn't know how to handle 'em. I went to school only fo' several winters. I was best in spellin' and readin', but I didn't do so good in arithmetic. I kin write my name and I kin read. I read a newspaper a little every day but me eyes has got so bad. My right eye is blind now. I got a cinder in it one day, when I was workin' in a blacksmith shop. Dat was about a year ago. I never did git to go to school much, 'cause I had to work. I remembah dat I was about eighteen, when I got my first job. I was in Houston. A master mechanic came from Brenham to Houston to patch a boiler. Dis boiler was on a steamboat. I had to help him. I got a dollah a day fo' dis; but I know jes' how much work we was doin'. Me and dat mechanic didn't overwork ourselfs. Dis steamboat had come up de Buffalo Bayou f'om Galveston to Houston, and it carried lumber. Den me and dat man worked on dat boiler fo' a week. Den he told me dat he was goin' to condemn de boiler, as not bein' safe. Hiram Brown was de captain of de boat, and he offered me fifty dollahs if I would tell him whut de mechanic had done to dat boiler. Captain Brown den hired me and my fathaw to cut up de boiler. Captain Brown den ordered a new boiler f'om Atlanta, Georgia. He waited and waited fo' dat boiler. Den he found out dat it had been sent to Maine. He had sent fo' it de last of July, and he didn't git it until September. When de boat was fixed, Captain Brown took it back to New Orleans.


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