Mamblelay dat's whut de folks called our mammy told me more'n once dat 'xactly at four o'clock on a Christmas day in 1845, I was bawn. Yassuh, dat was on a Christmas mawnin'. Mammy give me de name ob William Smith , but den me sistahs got to callin' me Buck . Dere was sebben ob us chillun in de fambly and I was de baby, and I'se de only one dat is still livin'. I reckon dat I was bawn on de Smith cotton plantation, at Bayou Shayo, Louisiana. I reckon dat was de mawster's name, I don't know. I was told dat Pappy had a fuss wid somebody and he was killed befo' I was bawn. Dey said dat Pappy could read and write, and dat he was a overseer on de plantation. Maybe dat's why dey made him a overseer. Befo' dey killed pappy, mammy heard 'em talkin' about huntin' him down. Mammy den told him,  Yo' go ahead and leave everything alone. I had a dream about yo' let 'em go on and say whut day want to about yo' Pappy was a double-jointed man and very strong. Man, was he strong! De folks told me all about him. He wasn't so tall, but he was all muscle. Even de mawster had told de others dat dey had better not fight him, 'cause he was so strong dat he could break dere necks. Mammy always told me in a half-cryin' way about my pappy and ob de time when he was shot to death. I don't know why he was shot or who shot him. Mammy died about fifty-two years ago. She is buried down in La Grange, Texas. Mammy told me befo' she died dat I would live a long time after she died. She den said, "Boy," she always called me boy, "now yo' is fixin' to cry, but yo' will live long after I'se gone. Treat everybody right and when somebody tells yo' somethin' yo treat 'em right. De good Lawd and God is gonna pay yo'. De folks would tell mammy, "Mamblelay , yo' ain't gonna have another child now, ain't Willy de sebenth? He's goin' to be de last and he'll be here when yo' is gone.

I liked Louisiana fine, and if I had de chance, I'd like to go and see dat country again. I sure would. When I was a young boy, durin' de time when folks called me Boy, Willie and Buck , I had to help tote water to de field hands. I got de water f'om de springs on de plantation, and den I had to tote de cedar bucket to de field. When a worker wanted me to bring de water, he would shout, "Yip-yip-yip-ee-ee!" Den I had to help mammy milk de cows. Mammy had to do de milkin' and she milked about eight cows twice a day. One day mammy said to me, "Boy yo' drink to much milk, and how come dat dis cow here doesn't give enough milk today? One ob de reasons was dat I had done sucked most ob de milk f'om dat cow. Sure I did, jes' lak a calf drinkin' its milk. One day one ob de white boys told me to go up a tree and git a squirrel dat was up dere. I clumb dat tree and I put my hand up a limb and tried to git dat squirrel, and it sure bit me. Dis white boy told his folks dat he hoped dat I'd stay on dere place fo' de rest ob my days. Folks in dem early days would say,  Do yo' think dat Willy is a negger? Why, he is a Louisiana Frenchman! Dat was because I could talk Louisiana French. I still know some ob de words today. But den, nigh all ob dem niggers down dere talked de Louisiana French. Mawster Smith was good to us. He would give us some whiskey about once a week. He would let us drink right out ob de bottle. Den he would say,  Ah-h, don't drink too much. Some of de slaves would den grin and say,  Mawster I believe dat I kin go out now and pick about a hunnert pounds more dan I done yesterday. Later in life, about de most cotton dat I picked was five hunnert pounds a day. I could pick dat much a day and I could den go out at night to dance and jump around. I used to be a fiddler-player in dem early days. I would fiddle and de prompter would call out:  Women doo-se-doo, And de gents de same, yo' know, Rally 'round de canebrake And shoot de buffalo!  Den Swing yo' partner, Swing him if yo' lak Cheat him--if yo' don't!  Den he'd say: March--sing--left, right--back--den it's turn again At dem dances dere was always one man dat wanted to start trubble. He'd git a woman and say, Let's go and git somethin' to drink.  Den de trubble would start. I don't know when we came to Texas, but I do remembah dat I belonged to a man dat was a sheriff of Fayette County. We lived down in La Grange. One day he come to me and said,  Willy , yo' is a free man. If dey don't treat yo' right, yo' come back here and let me know.  De first work dat I done after slavery was to work in de fields fo' other fahmers. I'd plow wid oxen and hosses. I'd plant, chop and pick cotton. Fo' ten years I done dis type ob work. Since when I was set free, dere was times when I found de times hard. During slavery I never was showed how to do my A B C's, or how to write. But after slavery two white fellers f'om de nawth each had a log cabin school house at La Grange. Jes' nigger boys and girls come to de schools. My teacher always called me Willy . One day de teacher said to me: Willy how much is 4 X 40?  I told him dat it made 160. Willy , come on up to de head ob de class,  he said. De other boys and girls told mammy,  Willy done beat us to de countin'.

I took interest in my work and I learned my lessons. De teacher always told me never to forgit whut I had learned. Mammy and her chillun now lived together about a mile f'om de school. De teachers never made us come to school, but dem whut wanted to come could come. It was in dat log cabin where I learned to write my name fo' de first time. We used de Blue Back Spellers. Dat was all de kind ob books dat we had. Dat teacher would watch us and if we talked too loud, he'd git us fo' it. If a boy didn't mind, dat teacher would make him stay after school, and make dat boy go and cut his own switch. It was long after slavery dat I got married. I was married in about 1875 to Mary Prout . We had three girls, and dey is all still livin'. My first wife died about twenty-five years ago. Den about twenty-two years ago I married Mary Johns . We had two girls, one is dead. In de early days, I used to go around and preach. Durin' de week days I would go out and work in de fields fo' other people, and on Sundays I'd go out and preach. De folks would fix up a good brush arbor fo' me, and I'd go to preachin'. I was no ordained preacher but I went straight wid de folks. De folks said dat I was straight, and dat I was a good man. After slavery we heard a lot about de Ku Klux Klan, but dey never did bother us folks down in Fayette County. But I sure seen a lot ob Injuns.