De Lord waters our flowers even inside de house. Katie was two years old when her mother and father were "sold apart" at a New Orleans slave market. She never knew the name of her mother's master; but she herself was bought by "old Widow Malone ," who took her to live on the New Years Creek near Brenham, Texas,  cose my father was baught by Mr. McIntire , who lived in Brenham.  Katie remembers nothing about her first owner except that she was kind and wore a white lace shawl. I didn't live with widow Malone long. Somethin' happened. I don't know what. Anyhow I was sold to Mrs. Harris who lives furder outside of Brehnam. Dat was when I comes into my memory and started to get my woes. I works at everythin'. I picksup sticks, churned the butter, washes de dishes and keeps de house clean. I didn't do no cookin'. I jes' turns the meat and watches de bread. I was a smart apt kid, but I was scared out of goodness. Mrs. Harris lived alone in a big house. I was the only slave she had. There was no other children, white or black. Once, I remembers her grandaughter comes and dat was the first time I knew there was another child in the world than me. I had a idea I weren't a child: I thought I was just littler, but as old as grownups. I didn't know people had grown up from children. It didn't seem as how I had the straight of nothing. I knew I was unhappy, but I thought everythin' was like dat. I didn't knowed there was happiness for nobody--me, nor nobody. When I got whipped I thought that was jus' a part of being alive. I didn't take it like it was my special punishment jus' comin' to me. I slep' in Mrs. Harris ' own room on de floor. It was a dark, big house. I now guesses she was scared to be alone asleep, but maybe it was cose she had a fire in de room, I slep' by de fire, but in de summer I slep' in her room too. When de war broke I didn't know what it was for. Mrs. Harris had three sons that was living some place away, and they went to war. Mrs. Harris was hatin' the North and I was hatin' the North too. I thought the North was kind of like a spider in a dream that was going to come and wipe away de house and carry me off. When I heard about Santa Clause that was goin' to come down the chimney. I scrasand. I gets a poker and wasn't goin' to let him in. Everythin' was like a tangled dream jus' opposite to what I found out later it was. I believes now Mrs. Harris liked to get me thinkin' weren't like they was. But I only believes now in opens that is de truth. She got as thinkin' everythin was coupled up with the debbil. I believed dat if a hen crowed you had to kill it quick or someone was goin' to die. I thought it was everlastin' distress if you hit against anythin' with yo' broom. To sweep dust out doors at night would bring back de dust in a cyclons. Den when I pulls off my shoes at night I was careful not to let 'en turn upside down lest de blood run out of me in sleep.  Yes, sir, I had shoes. Mighty fine shoes. My father made shoes. He would send nine over to me. They was good and not red russ'ts like I learn later niggers was luckey to get. My shoes was pretty.   No, my clothes was all right. Mrs. Harris dressed me good. They was made from cotton stripe. It was heavier than what they called hickory--dat comes in later. I 'nembers when the end of the war came. Mrs. Harris set up a cryin'. I cries harder than she does. I didn't know what worser was to befall, but I thinks it was dangerous to breathe. Then I hears some slaves shoutin' glad cose they was free. I didn't know what 'free' meant, and I askes Mrs. Harris if I was free. She says I was free but was goin' to repent of it. But she told me she wasn't going to whip me any more; and she never did, cose my father came and took me away. Mr. McIntire , who owned my father, gave him a farm to run. I helped my father and I helped his wife. He had another wife then than my mother. By and by, my mother shows up.

That made my father have two wives, but he jus' lives with the second one and mother didn't even have any more to say about me. Lots of slaves was happier cose they was free and lots of 'em weren't. I was one of 'em that was happier. In telling of her unhappy life, Katie had mentioned Santa Clause; and some questioning brought out the fact that the slave girl did have a few moments of happiness. On one Christmas she received a doll, a ball and some candy. Then the "cruel Mrs. Harris " evidently took a certain affectionate pride in Katie ; for  every time some caller came to de house, Mrs. Harris has me sing 'Dixie' for 'em and she would clap her hands and make a bug fuss over me.  Also, the little slave had  things made easy on Sundays.  Occasionally, her mistress would let her go to church with some neighbors  a white church for Presbyterians. It was at this church where  de niggers prayed in de back and de whites in de front that she learned another song to add to her repertoire: How sweet the name of Jesus sounds To a believers ears; It sootheth sorrow, healeth wounds And drives away all fears. But regardiess of whatever degree of unhappiness this old darkey knew at the beginning of her life, she has found happiness at the close of it, living in the little leaky house full of flowers. I is gald,  says Katie ,  that I is alive, an' I hopes the Redeamer will lets me continue on long and peaceful.