De folkses had ter build cabins ob logs an' mos' ob de fernichure too, when dey got down in de Brazos bottom. Marse, he built him a big double log house an' dere was a lot ob cabins fer de slaves. Mammy tell me dere was 'bout fifty ob de slaves. W'en de slaves sot free I guess hit was two, three years atter us settled in de Brazos bottom. My pappy, he been boughten by Marse back in Missouri, an den he stay atter freedom an' wukk fer ole Marse er long time. Us was share croppers. Den he died. De white folkses didn't gib de slaves much whar I was. Mammy got de beddin' an' close an' sech things in de house as she had an' dat's all I knows 'bout. Oh yes, she got a cow, some pigs, chickens and a yoke ob oxens. Pappy died 'fore I was grown. Mammy an' I wukked fer de w'ite folkses, cookin', washin' an' ironin', fiel' wukk an' sech. My brudders an' sisters done scattered, some lef' back in Missouri an' some die right atter de war. Mammy live 'long ob me till she die. Dese days, I'ze tired mos' all de time an' seems lak I can't think straight all de time. Mos' I think 'bout is de times I'ze a young 'un; den us play an' eat an' don' worry. Fer many years now, I'ze had it rough to eat an' hab a place to sleep. My chilluns done scattered I don' know whar, my man, Henry, he's done dead an' effen I don' git dat pension, I'ze don' know whar I gwine. De w'ite folks, dey's pow'ful good an' all, but it's pow'ful bad w'en you don' know whar you gwine git you next meal. Yassum, I 'members how dey made de beds an' sech. Us sarvants had 'one-legged beds; us made 'em by cuttin' a pole er two an' fasten 'em togedder wid a peg to make de end an' one side an' stick de odder ends in de wall. Den us 'ud lace rope across an' fill a tick wid prairie hay an' dar we is all set. A table an' a bench, a rope chair er two, a stick an' dirt chimney an' we's ready fer house-keepin. 'Couse us'd need a few pots an' pans an' er dish er so. Gourds make fine dippers. I wisht I had a ole time gourd right now, a drink outen one 'ud shore taste might good. Ev'yboddy et possum, rabbit, fish an' sech sence I kin 'member. Guess de w'ite folks did. Ole Marse he shore like he 'possum an taters brown, an' persimmons. I 'members us chilluns on de yard, bof' w'te an' cullud, 'ud fish, hunt rabbits, an' squirrel togedder. Night time, us'd go 'possum an' coon huntin' wid de dogs an' buil' fires to git warm by an' hab a big time in gen'rl. An' den de dances, my, oh my, dey shore had a time right 'bout my growin' up time. De country wuzn't settled up so much den, but folkses 'ud ride twenty miles er hoss back to git to a dance. Dey 'ud start 'bout early after noon an' den 'bout dark, dey'd hab a big supper an' den dance till 'bout daylight. Long 'bout midnight, dey'd eat some more. Ev'yboddy had a big time dem days. C'ose us all had to wukk. Dis was a new country an' dere was a lot ter do. I don' 'member no whippin's 'cept what Mammy gib me. She tan my hide er lot. C'ose Marster made 'em mind. He had ter do dat kase dey's lak wile mules. No'm, I don' 'member de freedom war, I'ze too little. Us can't read an' all us hears is what de w'ite folks say an' de war didn't touch us much down in de bottom. Mammy say us done run off an' lef' dat war. Ole Marse, he los' he property back in de ole states, an' I hear 'em say dat he sons ain' come home atter de war. Ole Miss Kate , she jes' pine way an' die in a year er two atter us come out to Texas. Mammy say she jes' grebe herself ter deaf. Mammy was a fair nuss an' dey come ter git her from far an' near. She tole me how to boil de herbs an' gib 'em. No'm I can't see now ter fix 'em. Oh, jes' take some ob one an' some ob 'nother. Dry de linin' ob er chicken gizzard an' it's fine fer stomach trubble. Boil an' onion an' put sugar on it an' dat'll cure dat cough you's got, Miss. But, er toasted onion is de bes'. Effen you'll keep a piece of shoe-string root in you pocket an' chew hit jes' befo' you asks someboddy a favor an' you'll shore git hit. But you got ter git dat root fresh ebery spring.

I don' 'member meny ob de medicines, but de poke root will cure small pox; and effen you char fat bacon rinds and chew dem, dey'll ease de mumps up er little. Us 'ud boil sheep wool ter make a tea an' gib hit to de chillun w'en dey had de whoopin' cough. Sheep wool is good fer colds too. Effen a snake bite you, git some alum, saltpeter, bluestone an' whiskey an' mix 'em an' drink hit an' hit'll cure you, 'cept effen ole man Rattler git holt ob you. Den de good Lawd is de onlest help. Effen you tie a brass penny 'roun your neck hit'll cure indigestion. An' a brass ring on each han' will cure rheumatism an' keep hit away. I don' 'member no games. Us chilluns jes' play 'roun an' chase de pigs, ride de calves an' de wukk hosses, hunt rabbits an' sech. De ole folkses git us shore wid a hickery lim' effen dey cotch us ridin' calves er hosses. But us lak er passel ob wile mules. Us chillun had ter tote water, bring in wood an' git chips an' cobs an' sticks ter start fire, an' sech. Us wore close jes' lak all de folkses. Guess us had warm close in de winter. I don' 'member bein' hungry er cole in dem days, but hit's shore tough now. Marse didn't make us chillun do much wukk till us got outten de shirt-tail age. Oh, w'en us 'bout fourteen, us gin ter wear pants er dresses. Dey was homespun lak ebery body wore in dem days. No'm I don' 'member no day freedom come. Guess us mus' a stayed wid Marse Johnson , case dar's whar us was w'en I was big. Den I married Josh Waldon . He dead, de chillun dead, er I don' know whar. Four ob 'em died w'en dey was jes' shavers an' two, de boys, dey's gone here, there an' yonder. Dey's Jack an' Bill . I'ze spun a meny a hank ob thread an' wove too. Cloth den shore wore better dan de store boughten dat us gits now. Oh, us had diffun' colors, but de wimmin sarvants mosen usually wore blue, a kinda dark blue. I nebber seed no niggers in chains in slavery time, ner none sole Marse did sell some ob de slaves but I don' 'member dat much. Us all loved Marse an' Mistis. She de bes woman dat ebber libed but she was quiet an' said nuttin' much. I nebber hear 'em talk 'bout no ober seer an' I guess Marse, he tend to he bizness heself. Dar was a little log house whar black an' w'ite preachers could preach. Den as de times change an' folks freed, mor' folkses come 'roun' ter lib an' more churches built. I lak de ole time songs bes' but none ob 'em special. Oh, no'm I'ze too absen' min' nohow, I jes' don' 'member no words much. Yassum, I'ze had de debbil in my foot w'en de fiddle sing. An' I'ze sorry to say, I'ze sorry to say, I'ze danced de clock to a turn a-meny a night.

My weddin' dress was caliker an' de ole man, he wore jeans britches an' er w'te shirt. Dat's been a long time ago. I jes' 'member sometimes now-a-days. Seems lak my mind hit jes' wants ter go back ter ole Missouri all de times. Dem was shore good days. Come a norder lak now, an' us be killin' hogs an' us hab all us kin eat. Den, come night, lie down by de fire-place an' sleep. C'ose, us had to wukk hard, but us shore hab to wukk hard now. Den, de ole wimmin dey sit an' rock an' knit an' dey hab somefin' ter eat an' er place ter sleep an' keep warm. Dem was good times. De w'ite folkses hab shore been good ter me. An' effn de government jes' gib me a little, I gwine git by. Yassum, I laks 'possum. He! he! ha! dats makes me think ob ole black Jim an' de ole times back in Missouri. He was de blackest an' de laziest nigger you ebber seed, but he a natcher'l 'possum cook. He nap an' fiddle 'long all de day in de fiel' but come night, 'bout nine o'clock he gwine slip out an' git him a fat 'possum effen dar's eny eny-whar. Den he kivver dat 'possum wid de hot ashes, fix him up to cook an' when Jim gits hit ready it shore am a feas'. He cabin jes' nacher'ly draw de niggers kase dey knows he 'possum suppers am grand. Bye-me-by, Marse he heard 'bout how fine a 'possum cook Jim is. One night he slip down to de cabin 'bout eleben 'clock. He see a little light in de cabin. He knock an' atter a long time, Jim he gits ter de door. He play lak he jes' er wakin' up. Ole Marse he say 'Now Jim , don' 'tend you's been asleep. I'ze done seed a light down har fer nigh onto three hours. What's dat I smell? Sniff! Sniff! An' into de kitchen goes ole Marse. What's dat er cookin', Jim ? 'Dat's er possum, Marster,' says Jim. 'Shore do smell good', say ole Marse, 'I'ze gwine ter stay an' eat er bite wid you.' 'Now Marse, it's gwine be daylight for' dat ole 'possum he git done. He er tuff one, guess he mus' be a grandaddy 'possum. You don' wanter miss you sleep, Marse, an' you gwine get der rhumatizm effen you stay in dis here ole cabin. You bes' go git some sleep an' I'll bring you a fine big 'possum dinner later.' But ole Marse been sniffin' an' he git 'spicious. So he lif de lid, an' he say, 'Jim , you ole lyin' nigger, dats some ob my hens you got in dat pot,' I'ze gwine lick de stuffin outen you, but Jim , he not been tarryin' 'roun', he's done gone ter de woods, ter stay till ole Marse cool off. Ole Marse er mighty fine man. He had he w'ite doctor w'en eny ob de sarvants been sick, an ebery night, he er ole Mis' dey make de roun's ter see effen eny ob de sarvants sick. Mos' 'specially w'en col weather come. No'm I don' take no stock in dem ghoses. I ain't nebber seed none an' I ain't honin' ter see none. But I knows dat effen a pusson don' die satisfied, dey er comin' back till they gits what dey wants. Effn dar's a dark Chrismus, dey be a lot ob cullud folks die dat year. Effen you bring your axe in de house, somebody gwine die soon. Mammy allus tell de boys 'don' cuss so much, you gwine die hard shore ez you born. An' w'en you see a pusson gwine die, git dat pillow outten from under he haid. Effen you don' dey's gwine die hard.