Texas Slave Narratives

Texas Slave Narrative

  Patsy Southwell

My name Patsy Southwell and I lives at Rock Hill. I been livin' on dat plantation all my life, but not allus in the very same place. I think the house was move and 'nether builded. My pappy was John Redd and he 'longed to Bill Trailor and he brung here from Virginny. Mammy's name Rose Redd and she a yaller nigger, come from South Carolina and maybe she white and Indian, too. My brothers call Dennis , George , William , and Charles and dey all dead. We all live in the quarters and massa a tol'able good one 'sidering others what out and slashes bad. Pappy and mammy work in the field and dey send pappy and he sons off six months at the time, over to Alexandria, to make salt. My brothers hunt all the time and brung in deer and wild turkey, so we has lots to eat. We has butter and milk and Henry and pappy allus have he li'l garden patch. We wears slip homespun dress make outten cloth from us loom. I never have shoes and us has no Sunday clothes. Massa was tol'able good to the old folks and not so mean to the chillen. He wasn't no barbarian like some what whip the slaves every Monday mornin' befo' day starts to work. Massa plantation have fifteen hunnerd acre in it and he didn't have 'nough slaves so they works awful hard. I seed 'em hit my Mammy five hunnerd licks and my pappy six hunnerd. Pappy have run 'way and been gone long time and they cotch him in de water in the Neches River. He have neat and stuff and they say mammy feedin' him, but I think it the other way. I think he gittin' and sendin' her stuff. The white folks has the big church with the bar 'cross it and the cullud folks sit bein' the bar. If any wants to jine us tell massa and he toll the preacher, and he old man Southwell. They baptise at the mill pond. I marries Jerry Southwell and us git marry at home. Jerry wears the black suit and I wears the dotted white Swiss dress with the overskirt. When freedom breaks and massa say we free, we goes to the Haynes ' place and my pappy farms for hisself. We gits on better dan in slavery days and after 'while pappy buys him some land and dem we all right. Me and my husban', we strays on with pappy awhile, but we gits our own farm and farm all us life.


Patsy Southwell is an old negress of eighty-three years. She is above average size, probably five feet and ten inches in height. Her skin is bronze, and she always has a ready smile. She is toothless and says she wants nothing, only what the Lord gives her, however, she wears, with great pride, big gold ear-rings and rings. My name is Patsy Southwell , and I live at Rock Hill 'bout a mile eas' of Zion Hill. I been libbin' on dat plantation all my life--but not allus in the very same place. I t'ink the house was move' and another was buil'. My father was John Redd . He uster b'long to Bill Trailor , and he was brung here from Virginny. Mother's name was Rose Redd . She was a yaller nigger, come from Sou'f Ca'lina, and maybe she was w'ite and Indian too. My brudders names was Dennis , George , William and Charles . Dey's all dead now. We all lib in the Quarters. Marster was tol'able good, 'sid'rin' others w'at cut and slash' bad. I nebber see my gran'parents. They nebber come Wes' but stay in the ol' state. We had ho-made beds with shuck mattress. I toted water and spin fo' (four) cuts a day, reel it, and weave a li'l eb'ry day. Atter freedom come, Father went down to the Haynes ' place and stay' five year' den tu'n back to the ol' place. Both Father and Mother wuk in the fiel'. Dey uster sen' Father and his sons off for six mont' at a time, over to Alexandria to mek salt. I never fish' and hunt' but Dennis and Charles hun' all the time. Dey brung in deer, wild tukkey, and other game for us and de w'ite folks, Durin' the war, dey et dese and butter and milk and honey. Father allus hab a patch of he own. Mistess hab a acre gyarden (garden) wid eb'ryt'ing in it, so the cullud folks et outen her gyarden. We wo' slip homespun dress' mek outen clof from de loom. I neber hab shoes til I was 'tween nine and 'leben year' ol'. We never hab no Sunday clo's. Sometime' Mother would manage to git a li'l calico and mek we'uns a dress. Marster Bill Trailor was tol'ably good to the chillen and warn't so mean to the ol' folks. He warn't no barbarium like some w'at whip' the slaves eb'ry Monday mo'nin' b'fo' dey start' to wuk. Marster and Mistess didn' hab no fam'ly 's I 'members of, but our Mistess, Betty Trailor , she hab some nieces and nephews dat lib' wid 'em. Dere names was Dink , Bill , Frank , Sarah or Sis , and Amelia .

Dink went to the war and git kill'. Bill went and come back, and Frank didn' go. He was only 'bout fo'teen year' ol'. Marster' plantation had fifteen hunnerd acre' in it. At fus' he had only six ol' slaves and a lot of chillen. Sometime' dey punish' awful hard. I see 'em hit my mother five hunnerd licks, and my father six hunnerd. Father had run 'way and been gone a long time. Dey ketch' him in the water in the Neches River. He hab meat and staff, and dey say Mother was feedin' him, but I t'ink it the other way. I t'ink he was gittin' and sen'in' her stuff. Dey didn' teach us to read and write, but sister and Dennis learn from the w'ite chillen. The w'ite folks hab a big chu'ch wid a bar 'cross it, and the cullud folks sit b'hin' dat bar. If any of us want' to jine', we went and tol' Marster, and he tol' de preacher. Ol' man Southwell was the best preacher I eber hear'. My husban' b'long' to him. Ol' man Munn and ol' man Bean was good preachers too. Dey baptise' at the mill pon'. Later on, us went to the pool at Zion Hill. Dey use' to sing, 'Amazin' Grace,' 'Hark, from the Tomb a doleful Sound,' and 'Come Ye dat love the Lawd,' and heaps mo' dat I's fo'got. Crissmus, dey give us the day, but dey sho' didn' give us no feas'. The slaves hunt' and fish' and hab a good time dat day any way dey wanter. I marry Jerry Southwell . Ol' man Southwell he marry us. Us git marry at home. Jerry had on a black suit. I wo' a dotted w'ite Swiss dress wid a over-skirt. No, I ain't nebber see' no g'osts. I dream' I seen one down at Zion Hill w'er all de folks is bury, so atter dat, I'd shut my eyes eb'ry time us go by dere so I wouldn' see none. W'en freedom broke, Marster tol' us we was free, and say to Father, 'Now, John , you can stay here or go.' Atter a w'ile, we went to de Haynes' place. W'en Marster's ol'es' gal marry, we all come back to see the weddin' den atter w'ile, we come back and dey sol' the place to my daddy. Ol' Marster and Mistess done dead den and all de chillen married off. Daddy sol' fum a hunnerd to a hunnerd and fifty acres to each of us chillen. Dey allus had a big to-do at Zion Hill w'en the sojers was goin off. Dey camp dere all night and eb'rybudy go to see 'em off. Ol' Mistess would allus spin and mek clo's for the sojers. We didn' see no Northern sojers a'tall. We uster hab some fine camp meetin's at Zion Hill in dem days. No, I don' hab no teef (teeth) and don' want none. My son tries to tell me I oughter git some, so I'd look better and hab better healt' but I got good healt' and made-teeth don' look good to me. I don' want nothin' only w'at the Lawd give' me. Us fa'm all us life. My husban' been dead ten year' now, and I lives wid my ol'es' daughter. We heerd Jasper county was gwine to give a present on Juneteenth to eb'ry cullud person over eighty, but dey ain't gimme mine yit, and I's eighty-tree. We come up to Jasper to see 'bout dat, and to git my pension.


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