I most suppose my memory is too jumpy, but I'll try to bring it 'long from de time I was born. I don't know de year, but it was in Russellville, Kentucky and my massa, Captain Hudson , had a fruit. orchard. My reg'lar work was protectin' my young missus, Nannie Hudson . She had to walk five miles to and forth from school every day and I was her protector. I was only 8 and she was 11. I sat on the steps until she got through larnin' and then brung her home. She come to be grown and married and died, but I allus loved her. When war comes, my massa goes and gets kilt and my missus got 'gusted with the orchard and packs up in two covered wagons and heads cross land to Texas. We finally gets to Lavernia and gets a farm and us worked plenty hard. Our missus was good to us, but one white man neighbor got a new set of niggers every year. He say if they didn't die, they wasn't any good work left in them after they works for him a year. He allus cut off one they ears, so if they run away he'd know 'em. My clothes was a long shirt, made out of a meal sack. That's all I wore them days. I was a slave three year after the others was freed, 'cause I didn't know nothin' 'bout bein' free. A Mrs. Gibbs got holt of me and makes me her slave. She was a cruel old woman and she didn't have no mercy on me. She give me one sausage and one biscuit in the mornin' and nothin' else all day. One day she gone and I stole some biscuits, and she comes back and says, 'Did you take them biscuits?' She tells me if I tells de truth she won't punish me, but she knocks me down and beats me till I not know nothin'. But after 'while her house burns and she burns up in it. But 'fore that I was goin' to run away and I goes to the road and sits down and then my sisters comes 'long and finds me and takes me to a place where they was livin' on the ranch of a man name Weidman . We works for him a long time and then I is free from that Gibbs woman.

Albert Todd is a Negro, whose life of hardship and suffering has left no tell-tale marks behind. He is utterly without bitterness and resentment and looks as if he were twenty years younger than his eighty-six years. His life began in Russellville, Kentucky under the ownerwhip of Captain Hudson who was killed in the Civil War. With his mistress, he came to Texas in a covered wagon. After the war he was kept on as a slave for three years, until he was liberated by white neighbors. This old man now lives in comparative comfort with his wife, daughter, and two sons at 708 Center St., San Antonio.

I 'most suppose my memory is too jumpy, but I'll tries to bring it along from de time when I was born. I don't know what year it was, but you can figure it. It was in Russellville, Kentucky. My master, Captain Hudson , had a fruit orchard. I helped around, but the regular work I done was protecting my young mistress, Nannie Hudson . She had to walk five miles to and forth from school every day. She was eleven and I was eight. But I was her protector. I would walk to school and sit on the steps until she got through learnin', and then I would bring her home. She come to be grown, married and died. I always loved her. No one ever tried to hurt her and I never done no protectin'. Folks was better in them days than they is now. When the war comes, my master goes and gets killed. My Misses got disgusted with the orchard, and she packs up in two covered wagons, lookin' like steamboats, and heads cross-land to Texas. She sold all the slaves but me, my brother, two sisters, and some few more. We never seed no Indians like we looked to see until we got to Texas. But we seen plenty of panthers, and they come close at night until they smelled the powder. Did you know, they used to have snow and awful cold in Texas? Nobody believes me. But just as sure as the Lord is our Lord, we had awful cold right here in San Antonio. You could drive across the river in a wagon. Ice was in buckets to the bottom of them. My left foot froze and cracks open. We didn't have no shoes. My hands would freeze and crack and the blood would run down my ax handle like I had killed a horse. But when we got to Lavernia, where we got a farm, I didn't do no work that was suff'ring. I used to scour the house and keep it clean.. But they worked us plenty hard. Work was a religion we was taught. They said if we didn't work hard, God would come and put us in the fire. All they taught us was to work hard, obey your master, don't by sassy, and don't steal. That was the way we could get to heaven. There was one white man near us who would get a new set of niggers every year. He said, if they didn't die, there wasn't any good work left in them anyhow. He would cut off a ear so he would know them if they runs off. I didn't have much misery until after the war when I was a slave of two other masters. My masters, the Hudson's , had a rule never to whip old niggers. I never seed an old nigger whipped except when somethin' was found missin'. Then, they whipped everybody. They says by doin' that, they was sure to get the right one. We lives in a right good house, the roof don't leak, and we had windows and doors and de stove. They was log houses. I never seen no timber in Texas until I was free. Our clothes was nothin' but a shirt; it was a long shirt made out of meal sack. When a slave died, they made a box and lined it with cloth. The white preacher comes and says prayers over the grave. But nobody gets married as what marriage is today. I remember laughin' here in San Antonio when a black man and his wife has already been married for fifty years and has to go out and get a license and get married again. The master of slaves chose what wife a slave was to have. Yes, sir, I said I was a slave after slavery was over. When we got let loose, I didn't know what it was about. I was fourteen. My sisters never found me until three years after the war. I saw a house and went to it. A Mrs. Gibbs lived there with her husband, who was a rock-mason. They had a small farm.

She gets me and makes me her slave. She was the cruelest woman I ever seed. She didn't have no mercy. One sausage and one biscuit she give to me in the morning was all I had to eat all day. She would go to town once a week; and one day I got so hungry, I didn't know what to do. I went up to the house and stole some biscuits. She comes back and asks me if I took um, and I says no. Then she says kinda nice, "If you will tell me the truth, I won't punish you." So I tells her that I ate the biscuits and also a piece of meat. She knocks me down and beats me until I was unconscious. But she got burned up in her own house. She had a adopted son, who, the folks said, weren't any good. He would get drunk and spend all of her money. One Saturday, he comes back and says he wants some money. I guess he didn't get it cause he goes away. Anyhow, Sunday night come, and the house gets set on fire. Nobody has no proof of how it happened. It was Mrs. Gibbs I was working for like a slave when it was so cold in Texas. My foot still gives me suff'ring. I limped so bad that I thought I would just as well be dead, and I was goin' to run away. I went down to the road and walked no more than a block and sits down. It was then that my sisters come along and find me. They took me to where they was living on the ranch of a man named Widman . They took good care of my foot and pretty soon I was able to work. Mr. Widman paid me fifteen dollars a month. He paid all of us fifteen dollars a month and we boarded ourselves.