Course I kin tell you. I got 'memberance like dey don't have nowadays. Dat 'cause things is goin' round and round too fast without no settin' and talkin' things over. I's native born right down here at Gilmer on de old place and Miss Fannie could tell you de same if she could be in your presence, but she went on to Glory many a year ago. She de one what raised me, right in de house with her own chillen. I slep' right in de house, in de chillens' room, in a little trundle bed what jus' pushed back under de big bed when de mornin' come. If her chillen et one side de table I et t'other side, right by Miss Fannie's elbow. Miss Fannie , she Dr. Steven's wife and dey from Georgia and lived near Gilmer till de doctor goes off to de war and takes a sickness what he ain't never get part from and died. Died right there on de old place. He was a right livin' man and dey allus good to me and my mammy, what dey done brought from Georgia and she de main cook. My mammy don't think they ain't nobody like Miss Fannie . My mammy, she a little red-Indian nigger woman not so big as me, and Miss Fanny tell her, 'Don't you cry 'cause dey tryin' make freedom. 'cause de doctor done say we is gwine help you raise your babies.' Some de niggers don't like de treatment what dey white folks gives 'em and dey run away to de woods. I'd hear de nigger dogs a-runnin and when dey cotch de niggers dey bites 'em all over and tears dey clothes and gits de skin, too. And de niggers, dey'd holler. I seed 'em whip de niggers, 'cause dey tolt de chillen to look. Dey buckled 'em down on de groun' and laid it on dey backs. Sometimes dey laid on with a mighty heavy hand. But I ain't never git no whippin' 'cause I never went with de cullud gen'ration. I set right in de buggy with de white chillen and went to hear Gospel preachin'. I danced at de balls in de sixteen figure round sets and everybody in dem parts say I de principal dancer, but I gits 'ligion and left de old way to live in de 'termination to live beyon' dis vale of tears.

I have my trib'lations after my old daddy die, 'cause he good to us little chillen. But my next daddy a man mighty rough on us. Dat after Miss Fannie done gone back to Georgia and my back done hurt me all de time from pullin' fodder and choppin' cotton. It make a big indif'rence after Miss Fannie gone, and de war de cause of it all. I heered de big cannons goin' on over there jus' like de bigges' clap of thunder. Me and de little chillen playin' in de road makin' frog houses out of sand when we hear de hosses comin'. We looks and see de budallions shinin' in de sun and de sojers have tin cups tied on side dere saddles and throwed dem cups to us chillen as dey passed. Dey say war is over and we is free. Miss Fannie say she a Seay from Georgia and she go back dere, but I jus' stay on where I's native born.

Callie Shepherd , age 84, 4701 Spring Ave. Dallas, Texas, can neither read nor write. She was born near Gilmer, Upshaw County, Texas in 1852. She went by the name of Callie Stevens before her marriage. She was born in slavery in the Stevens family. At present (1937) she makes her home with her 68 year-old son and his wife.

Cose I can tell you. I got rememberance like dey don' have nowdays. Dat's 'cause things is going roun' and roun' too fas' without no settin' and talkin' things over. I was native-bo'n right down here at Gilmer on de ol' place. Miss Fannie could tell you de same if she could be in your presence but she went on to Glory many a year ago. Miss Fannie was de one dat raised me, right in de house with her own childers. I slep' right in de house--in de room with her childers in a little trundle bed that jus' pushed back under de big bed when de mo'nin come. If her childers et on one side of de table I et on t'other side, right at Miss Fannie's elbow. Miss Fannie ? Why, she was Dr. Stevens ' wife. Dey was from Georgia and dey lived right near Gilmer 'til Doctor went off to de war and took a sickness that he ain't never get peart from, and he sickened and died. Died right there on de old place. He was a right livin' man and dey was always good to me and to my mammy. Dey done brought her from Georgia and she was de main cook in Miss Fannie's house. My mama done think they ain't nobody like Miss Fannie . My mama, she was a little red-Indian Nigger woman not even so big as me. Miss Fannie used to say, 'Don' you cry Mat, 'cause dey tryin' to make de freedom, 'cause de Doctor done say dat we is going to help you raise your babies. Miss Fannie and de Doctor had five field laborers. Some of de white folks dey got more. Some of de Niggers dey don' like de way of their treatment and dey run away to de woods to get away. I used to hear de Nigger dogs a runnin' and when dey ketch de Niggers dey bites 'em all over and tears dey clothes and gets de skin too. And de Niggers dey would holler. I seed' dem when dey whupped de Niggers. Dey used to tell us little childers to look. Dey buckled 'em down on de groun' and laid it on dey backs. Sometimes dey laid on with a mighty heavy han'. I aint never got no whuppin' by my white folks 'cause I never went with de colored generation. I set right in de buggy with de white childers when we went to meetin' with Miss Fannie and Miss Fannie always took a quilt or a sheet for us to set on when we went to hear de Gospel preachin'. Miss Fannie was a Methodist and she was a good woman and all dat but I'se a Baptist 'cause when I hear de scripture and I got a rememberance it say:

Repent and be Baptised. I lived in sin a long time afore I joined with de Lord to a new way of livin' and leave de wor'liness. I danced at de balls in de sixteen figure round sets. Everybody in dem parts around said I was de principal dancer but I saw de way clear afore me and I lef' de old way to live in de 'termination to live beyon' this vale of tears. I had my tribulations after my ol' dada die. He was good to us little childer even though I don' live in de house with my folks. He used to plat shucks for hoss collars and door mats and sell 'em to folks in de parts and take de money and buy calico. Miss Fannie was a fine seamster and she made all my dresses. But my nex' dada was a man mighty rough on us. Dat was after Miss Fannie done gone back to Georgia. And my back done hurt me all de time from pullin' fodder and choppin' cotton. It made a big indifference after Miss Fannie was gone. And de war was de cause of it all. I hear de big cannons goin' on over there jus' like de bigges' clap of thunder and I would ask my mama, 'What is dat?' And she would say, It's de war and dey is tryin' to make us free. Den she used to cry. Me and de other little childers was playing in de big road makin' frog houses outen de sand when we hear de hosses coming. And we looked and we could see de budallions shinin' in de sun. De soldiers got tin cups tied on de side of de saddles and dey throwed 'em to us in de sand as dey passed in de road. Dey say de war is all over and dey is going to stay home but de Niggers is free. Miss Fannie was standin' in de kitchen and she say to my mama de doctor done die and 'cause she was a Seay back in Georgia she mus' go back and live amongst her own folks. I see my mama cry for that and Miss Fannie say: Dont cry, Mat ; cause I won't take Callie if you are going to take on over it. And so I jus' stay on at Gilmer with my folks where I was native-bo'n.