My parents done told me where I's borned. It am in a covered wagon on de way from Alabama to Texas, two years 'fore freedom. Old Marse Lem Stone , he left Alabama for Texas, where de war not so bad, and brung some he slaves with him. He done lost so much in Alabama, Yankees burnin' he house and cotton and killin' he stock, he want to git 'way from dere. First he come to Rusk County, den goes back to Shreveport and stays till freedom. Pappy and mammy was Louis and Car'line Stone . I lived in Louisiana till I's growed. Mammy and pappy done told me all 'bout de old plantation. It am hundreds of acres of land, part worked and part jus' timber and pasture. It was near Montgomery, and dey raised more cotton den anything else, but had some corn and peas and cane. Dey made sorghum and ribbon cane 'lasses and had boilin' vats for sugar, too. De soldiers come through. Dey named, Yankees. Dey make mammy cook somethin' to say and den kilt all de hawgs and took de meat with dem, and burn de barn and house. Old Marse had pens to put cotton in, hid way out in de bresh. Dey picked it in gunny sacks and hides it, and slips it out to de gin by night and tries to sell it 'fore dem Yankees finds it and burns it. Mammy say dey all went to church and had to drive four horses when de roads muddy in winter and sand deep in summer. Dey allus carry dinner and stay all day. Den in de evenin', after de niggers had dey preachin', dey all go home. Sometimes a preacher come out to de plantation and hold church for de white folks in de mornin' and in de evenin' for de niggers, out under a big oak tree. De Lawd say iffen us trusts him and help to be good he gwine make our path straight. Dis was true in de days of den, 'cause our white folks tooken care of us, befo' dey was freedom and sech. Now, us gittin' old, and gits de old age pension when us too old to work. I works all up and down de old river when I's growed. De plantations has long staple cotton. Dey raise sugar cane and dere be twenty wagons haulin' cane to de boilin' mills. We was happy to do dat work, 'cause we knowed it mean us have plenty 'lasses in winter. Lawdy, I wish I knowed I could have all de 'lasses and bread I wanted dis winter! Dem was good times, Lawd! Us sing dis song: We'll stick to de hoe till de sun go down, We'll rise when do rooster crow, And go to do field where de sunshine hot, To de field where de sugar cane grow. Yes, chilluns, we'll all go.' I can jes' see dem long rows of cotton and niggers drivin' de oxen and mules. I know 'nother song: 'Nigger mighty happy when he layin' by de corn, Nigger mighty happy when he hear dat dinner horn; But he more happy when de night come on, Dat' sun's a-slantin', as sho's you born! Dat old cow's a shakin' dat great big bell. And de frogs tunin' up, 'cause de dew's done fell.' Dat jes' after freedom. Dey have plantations and overseers like slavery, but most de overseers niggers, and dey didn't whip you den. On Saturday night de overseer pay us, mostly in rations. He give us five, maybe ten pounds rations of meat, and a peck or two or meal, and some coffee and molasses. Dat ration day come once a week, Old massa rich as Gundy. But he give 'lasses all de week, And buttermilk for Sunday. 'Old massa give a pound of meat, I et it all on Monday; Den I et 'lasses all de week, And buttermilk for Sunday.' All dis was down on de Mississippi bottom.

Old Man River was sho' purty in de fall, when dem wild geeses come in droves and de blossoms red and yaller. De fogs come hang over and chills and fever gits started. De women sot by de fire piecin' quilts and spinnin' thread, and de old men weave cotton baskets and chair bottoms, and de young men work on de levees, so dey hold Old Man River back when he start prowlin' round 'gain. Floods come down, no matter what time of year. One day Old Man River be runnin' 'long, jes' as peaceful and quiet, and everybody happy. Everybody meet de boats at de landin'. Den way in de night you wake up and hear a roarin' like thunder and dat river be on a tear. Folks know he am in de ugly mood, and starts movin' to higher ground. Everybody what have a wagon and mule gits out. Some jes' gits to de loves. It look like my folks told me when dey run from de Yankees, only dis time it's de river. Old Man River sho' treach'ous. After he go on one he rarin' and tearin' spells, den he gwine be so peaceful and quiet like. Look like he try to make up for he meanness. I gits married and moves clost to de Trinity River, and stays till my family done raised. Dey has free schools in Texas den. I works in de sawmill and dere so much wild game us can eat easy. Dem days on de Mississippi bottom is like a dream, but when I hears talk 'bout Old Man River. I can dem big waters roarin' down.

R. F. D. Mart, Texas. As well as I kin 'member de story dat my parents tole me 'bout whar I was borned, hit was in a covered waggin on de way from Alabama ter Texas jes' befo' freedom. Ole Marster, Lem Stone , he lef' Alabam an' kum ter Texas ter whar dey was not in de war so bad, an' he brung part ob de slaves wid him, an' my mammy an' pappy was some dat kum wid him. I does not know effen he sold he plantashun in Alabam er not, he had los' so much by de Yankees er burnin' up he barn an' cotton, an' er killin' he stock, dat he wanted ter git away from dem, whar dey didn't kum so much. Dat's all I kin 'member. Dey furs' come ter Rusk County, but dey didn't stay dar but er little while an' den dey went back ter Shreveport, Louisiana. Dey was in Shreveport w'en freedom kum. My pappy an' mammy's name was Louis an' Kar'line Stone . Dey had three boys an' three girls, an' all ob 'em libed ter be grown an' hab homes of dar own. I lived in Louisiana 'till I was grown. I has offen heard my folks tell ob de days befo' freedom w'en dey libed in Alabam an' how things was dar, an' in Texas an' Louisiana. I kin rekerlect de days w'en I was a boy right after freedom an' lots ob things dat happen den. Furst, I will try ter tell you de things dat was handed downs ter me by my folkses 'bout de days jes befo' de war w'en dey was libin in ole Alabam. De ole Marster, Lem Stones owned several hundred acres ob land, part ob hit was in cultivation an' part in timber an' pasture. He had cattle an' horses an' sheep an' hogs. Hit was near Montgomery Alabam. He raised more cotton dan enything else, but he raised corn, oats, peas, potatoes, sorghum an' ribbon cane. Dey made sorghum an' ribbon cane molasses an' had de boilin' vats fer de sugar too. Fer de meat w'en hit git cold, he kill 'nuff hogs ter las' all de winter an' den we goes out in de bottom an' kills wild hogs an' all kinds of good huntin' we has. So us allers hab plenty ob meat an' don' hab ter buy hit like dey do now. W'en dey made de trip an' libed in Texas, dem days dey had all de wild game dat dey could use. I has heard my mammy tell 'bout how de soljers passed through whar she libed in Alabam. Dey name Yankees. An' dey make dem cook dem somethin' ter eat. Den dey kilt de hogs an' took de meat wid dem. An' she tell 'bout how dey burn ole Massa's barn an' how ole Massa tried ter keep things hidden from dem Yankees. De ole Marster had pens dat he put he cotton in, an' had dem hid in de brush, way out in de fiel' fer from de road, so dat de Yankee's would not see hit w'en dey pass dat way.

Dey picked de cotton in gunny sacks an' baskets. Den w'en dey has three, four, er five bales, de Marster or de oberseer send hit ter de gin an' has dem all ginned to once. Den dey hurries dem off ter be sole befo' de Yankees find 'em an' burn 'em up. My mammy helped ter spin de thread an' weave on de loom ter make de cloth fer de clo's dey wore. Den dey dye hit de color dey wants hit ter be, dey did dis fer a long time atter freedom until de mills started makin' hit. W'en dey furst make de cloth on dem mills hit jes' cost so much dat folkses jes got hit fer de bes' wear. I kin 'member hearin' dem tell 'bout how dey all went ter cherch in de fambly kerredg. Hit was so big dat dey had ter drive four horses ter hit w'en de roads be muddy in de winter er de sand deep in de summer. Dem road bof in Alabam an in Texas was sompin' fierce ter trabble on. Dey mos' allers carried dey dinner an' stayed all day. Den in de evenins atter de sarvants had dey preachin' dey all go home. Sometime's de preacher cum out ter de plantashun an' hole de services fer de white folks in de mawnin' an' in de atternoon fer de sarvants, out under a big oak tree dat was in de yard.

Yer ask me how did de preacher carry on de service? Well, he pray de Lawds prayer an' dey say hit atter hem. Dey sing de same way, sometime dey say de scriptur atter he reads hit. But mos' of de time, he goes ter preachin' an' dey lissens. But dey allers say de humns atter he reads dem. Dat is de way dey larn dem. Yes, I has heard dem tell 'bout de song's book name being de "Sacred Harp book. I kin 'member when I was a boy, one sermon dat de preacher preach. Hit was 'bout John de Baptist er preachin' in de wilderness. De preacher tell how hit's de voice of someboddy er cryin' in de wilderness. He say "Prepare ye de way ob de Lawd, make his paths straight." He say dat de country roun 'bout is like a wilderness. De Lawd say effen us trus' in him an' help ter be good den he gwine er make our paths straight. He say dat us mus' 'pare de way fer he path ter cum inter de hearts ob de ones dat ar 'roun us den de Bible say dat "He stan's wid ten thousan' blessin' fer de poor an' needy. Dis was true in de days ob den kase de white man tooken care ob us befo' dey was freedom an sence. Now, us gittin' ole, an us gits er ole age penshun w'en us too ole ter wukk. I libed in Shreveport 'til I was grown an' I wukked all up an' down de Missippi ribber. I has wukked on de plantashuns dat raised de long staple cotton. Hit shore had ter be wukked too, case hit grew high as de corn does in dis country. Dey had de big plantashuns whar dey would hab a hunnerd acres in cotton, maybe more. Den dey would hab 'bout as much in corn, potatoes, peas, sugar-cane an' sorghum. De fiel' hands would be in bunches, some be plowin' er hoein' de cotton an' corn an' some be haulin' de cane up ter de mills ter make de sugar an' molasses. Dey raise de sugar cane an' de sorghum ter sell jes' like dey raise de cotton ter sell. An' dey make er lot er money out'n hit. Sometime, dar would be fifteen or twenty cane wagon ahaulin' de cane ter de boilin' mills ter git hit cooked up inter de sugar an' syrup. Dat sugar cane an' sorghum! We was happy ter do dis wukk fer us knowed dat hit mean dat us has it ter eat wid our bread an' butter in de winter. Lawdy, wish I knowed dat I cud hab all ob de 'lasses an' bread an' butter dat I wanted dis winter. Dem was good times, Lawd. Offen us'd sing dis song, seems like I kin hear hit now: We'll stick ter de hoe, till de sun go down We'll rise w'en de rooster crow, An' go ter de fiel' whar de sun shine hot, Ter de fiel' whar de sugar-cane grow, Yes, chilluns, we'll all go! I kin shut my eyes an' dream 'bout de days w'en we wukkin in de fiels down in Louisian. I kin see de long, long rows of cotton an' de corn, see de niggers drivin' de oxen an' de mules ter de plow as dey ride, one in one row an' one in tother. I kin see dat oberseer as he come er ridin' on he horse, fust one place an den a'nuther. In de ole days dey had sartin hans to jes' plow an dey name plow hans. Yassum I kuld sing hit fer you effen yer wants me ter. I kin not sing no tune kase I ain't got no voice lef fer de singin' now. Hit goes somethin' like dis: Nigger mighty happy w'en he layin' by de corn, Nigger mighty happy w'en he hear dat dinner horn; But he's more happy w'en de night kum on. Dat sun's a-slantin' sho's you born De ole cow's er shakin' her bell, En de frogs er tunin' up, fer de dew's done fell. Us'll nebber see dem happy days ergain. Dis was jes atter freedom w'en I was a boy. Dey hab de big plantations an' de oberseer's jes' like dey did in de days befo' freedom, but mos' of de oberseers by dis time was niggers. Dey didn't whup de fiel hands like dey did in slavery, but dey gib him he wukk an' w'en he does hit den he kin take de Saddy off effen he through he week's wukk. I mos fergit ter tell you 'bout de rice fiel. Dey's a purtty sight an' dey looks like oats er wheat a-wavin' in de win'. W'en dey er threshed dey had ter beat de rice out ob de huskes. An' de nigger dat kud beat de rice de bes' was de one dat git de bes' pay. W'en de night 'ud cum, den all us han's 'ud set down ter a big table wid big bowls ob rice an' sweet milk. Hit was mos' as good as de plate ob 'lasses an' butter.

Atter freedom, at de end ob de week on a Satdday night, de oberseer he 'ud pay us. Dis was mostly in rations. Us call hit grub. Dey gib us maybe five, ten pounds ob meat, er peck er two ob meal, some coffee an' 'lasses. He! He! us all 'ud sing: Dat ration day cum once a week, ole Massa rich as Gundy. But he gib us 'lasses all de week an' buttermilk fer Sunday. Ole Massa gib us a poun' ob meat, I et hit all on Monday, Den I et his 'lasses all de week, an' buttermilk fer Sunday. De times dat I tells you 'bout, mos' ob 'em dey was down on de Missippi bottom. I will try ter tell yer how hit would be down dar. An mos' I wants ter tell you 'bout ole Man Ribber. Hit was shore purtty in de Fall, w'en de las' lock ob cotton done been picked an' de cane all cut an' sole down ter de sugar mill, de rice all thrashed an' loaded on der steamboat ter be shipped ter New Orleans, de bees all hived fer de las' time, an' de honey all strained fer de winter. Den de wile geese 'ud cum down de ribber in droves an' den de fall wukk all done. De summer is all gone, an' dem red and yaller blossoms er purty. Den cums de fogs ter hang ober de ribber, an de chills an' de febers git started. De wimmen 'ud sit by de fire a-talkin' an' a-piecin' de quilts, er spinnin' de thread. De ole men 'ud weave cotton baskets an' chair bottoms, an' de young men 'ud work on de levee's er buildin' dem so dey 'ud hol' Ole Man Ribber back w'en he starts ter prowlin' aroun'. An' dat's de winter time. De okra an' de princes' feathers 'ud go ter seed. W'en de spring time 'ud cum, de mockin' birds 'ud start ter buildin' dere nestes in de trees an' er huntin' de seed from de okra an' princes feathers. W'en Easter cum, de china trees an' de hyacinth an' de dogwood are in bloom. Den ole Mis' she wants lots ob flowers in de big house. Dar was floods cum down de ribber no matter what time ob de year hit was. One day hit 'ud be runnin' erlong jes ez peaceful an' quiet, an' everyboddy happy. De steamboats er whislin' an' makin' dar runs and you culd hear de boat han's er singin' de ribber songs. An' at der boat landin's, folkses, white an' cullud, 'ud come ter see de boats unload an' ter wave at dem w'en dey past. Den maybe dat night, dey 'ud be er sleepin' jes peaceful like, an' way in de night dey wake up an' hear de roarin' jes' like thunder. An' dat 'ud be de ribber on er tare. An' folkses 'ud know dat ribber in er ugly mood an' dey jes as well ter start movin' out ter higher groun'. An' everyboddy git out an' hitch de mule ter de wagon effen dey has one. Den dey load up an' go way, fer as dey kin. Maybe some hab ter pack dey things an' den dey jes' git ter de levee. Hit look's like my folks tole me 'bout w'en dey run from de Yankees, only dis time hit's de ribber. Sometime, hit cotch de folks in de houses an' den dey climbs up ter de roof tops an' tree tops an' stay dar until somebody in de boats cum ter take dem off. Sometime, de houses float down de ribber an' de folks don't wake up until dey is already caught in de house. Dey stay dar an' sometime, hit lands on de bank an' dey has jes moved. W'en de crevasse opens, de water begins ter spread an' hit jes' keeps on spreadin' until hit be several miles wide. You can see de folks effen dey git out in time, on de levee wid dey chickens, maybe an' pigs, corn an' udder grub dat dey brung er long. Some maybe has dey cow an' calf er goats, horses er mules. De cotton rows er all full ob water an' de hole arth looks like it turned to a big sea ob water. Ole Man Ribber he done spread eberywhar. Dar uset ter be lan' dat folks could lib on, an hits jes' like er little island, wid de ribber all 'roun. Dey was call squatters, an' dey make dey libin' mos'ly er huntin' an' fishin'. In de Reel Foot Lake country, dar was a lot ob folks dat libed dis way back in freedom early days. Dey call dis de Gobernment land, well ez I kin 'member.

My gran'mammy uset to tell 'bout when dey furst got de ribber boats. Us nebber did git tired ob watchin' de boats from w'en we would see 'em furst 'till dey done git plum outen sight. Dat is effen de white folkses 'ud let us. Dare was some ghost stories 'bout de boats but I don't know 'bout dem. Granma uset to tell 'bout de time de furst boat come down de ribber. An' she'd laff an' tell us chillun how skairt de niggers was en some ob de white folks too, wh'en de furst boat come er-chuggin' down de ribber. Dey seed de big white sails an' hear de chug, chug, ob de engine an' see de smoke a-cumin' out de chimbly an' de big red lights, an' dey think dat de chug, chug ob de engine is de ghost er gittin' hits breath; an de red light dat ar de ghosts eyes; an' de white cloth sails, dat he wings; an' dey think dat's hit de ship ob Zion er cumin' fer ter take dem to de good home in hebben. But noboddy ready ter git ter hebben in hit, an' dey runs from hit. Dat is de story dat gran'mammy done tell us w'en we's little an hear de boats whis'le. Dar was 'nuther story, gran'mammy tole, but dis is a love story 'bout de ribber. Long time er go dar was a oyster fisherman dat libed by de ribber, an' he daughter libed wid hem. One day she seed anudder fisherman dat libed by de ribber, but on de odder side ob de ribber. Her pappy, he not home dat day, an' she sings an todder fisherman, he row 'cross de ribber ter see her. By-bye-bye, dey heard her pappy's foot steps an her lober jumps into de water an' hide. De gal's pappy he say 'What was dat my daughter?' An she say 'Dat's noddin', jes a pebble dat I throwed in de water'. An' her pappy he say 'What is dat er paddlin' off so fas'?' An she say 'Dat's noddin', jes' a porpoise dat's er swimmin' by.' But her pappy gits in he boat an' he goes atter dat paddlin' soun'. An' he finds dat young man an' he shoot him daid. De mermaids gits de young man, an' brings him to, an' puts him to keep er oyster shop fer dem down in de bottom ob de ribber. De fisherman's daughter, she go sit by de ribber an' cry, an' w'en de water clar, she kin see her lober down dar wid dem mermaids. Dat Ole Man Ribber was shore treacherous. Atter he go on one ob he rarin' an' tarin' spells, den he gwine be so quiet an' peaceful. Looks lak he try ter make up fer he meanness. He done let dem make big crops atter de floods. He'd otter be 'shamed atter drivin' folks outten dey homes, an' drownin' dey stock. Maybe he done took dare house down to de Gulf. Some ob de folks go right back an' start hit all ober ergain. But I 'cides dat I will go back ter de little town whar I went wid my folks w'en I was a baby.

Hit is some like Louisiana, fer hit is in de timber an' dey hab all kinds er fruit an' vegetables an' cotton an' de corn. An' hit's not fer ter de sawmills, whar I kin wukke in de winter w'en de crops git laid by. Dat's in Texas. Dey is like de sawmills in Louisiana wid de logs an' de Trinity ribber ter float dem down. Dey pulled de logs up wid a big lot ob chains up ter de mill outter de ribber. Dey had lots ob timber dere ter run de mill wid, an' I likes hit fine. I staid dare until I raised my fambly. Dey had er little school house jes like in Louisiana dat I kin sen' my chillun ter school. I went ter de school w'en de Yankee cum down South ter teach de nigger. Dat's de furst few years jes atter de war. W'en I went to school, us larned ter read an' ter write an' spell an' figger, den dey tell us 'bout de war. Dey taught us to sing. Dar was er song 'bout Louisan dat say "Susanna don' yer cry fer me, I'ze gwine back ter Luzana fer ter see my Suzanna. I likes dem ole time songs. W'en I cum back ter Texas an' wukked in de fiel's an' de sawmill dat was w'en Texas was a new State. Lots ob de ole States people was cumin' out here to git a start in de new country. De wile hogs, an' de wile turkeys was plentiful all ober de East Texas country. Us had all de meat dat we kuld kill an' put up, jes by goin' out in de woods an' killin' hit. W'en hit rained in Texas dare wuzn't no bad ober flows. Dey was jes er startin' ter plant cotton here. Us could make more money offen de cotton dan now. Atter a-while, de niggers got to habin' free schools, jes like de white folks did. So, I jes' stayed in Texas an' try ter fergit dat Ize homesick fer Louisiana. So meny niggers cum from back whar us libed dat us fell like it mos' home. Den dey begins ter bah de nineteenth celebrashuns, an de big meetin's in de summer w'en de crop is laid by. De folkses 'ud go an' camp er week at er time. So, Texas is a good place ter us atter us git uset ter libin' here. Dem days on de ole Missippi seem so long ago dat dey seem like a dream. I mos' fergit dat I libed dem. De times change an' people cum an' go, but I offen think 'bout dem floods. An' when I hears folks talk 'bout readin' 'bout de oberflows ob de ole Missippi, I kin see dem big waters er roarin' down.