I was born in slavery in Pine Bluff in de state of Arkansas, on July 2, 1854, and dey tells me dat make me 'bout 84 years old. Woodruff Norsworthy was my owner and boss all do time I a slave. I marry in 1875 and I loot my wife two year ago, and when a men looses a good woman he loses somethin'. Us had 13 chillen, but only two of den alive now. My boss man was mean to he niggers and I 'member crawlin' down through de woods and listenin' one time when he best a nigger. Every time he hit his he pray. Boss have 15 slaves and I recollect one time he gwine best my mother. She run to de kitchen and jump behin' de door and cover herself up in de big pile of dirty clothes. Dey never think to look for her there and she stay there all day. But de next day dey cotch her and whip her. Den what runs awry, dey gits bloodhounds after 'em. Dey clumb de tree when dey heered dem hounds comin' but de massa make dem git down and dey shoot dem, iffen dey didn't. When dey gits down de dogs jumps all ever dem and would tear des to pieces, but do massa boats dem off. Once de boss has company and one our niggers sleeps on de porch outside de company's room, and in de night he slip in dat room and thiefed de fine, white shirt out de suitcase and wears it round de next mornin'. Course he couldn't read and he ain't know de gate man have he name on dat shirt. When de boss find it out he takes dat nigger down in de bottom and I crawls through de bresh and watches. Dey tie he foots together over de limb and let he head hang down and beet his till de blood run down on de roots of dat tree. When dey takes him down he back look like raw meat and he nearly die. Sometimes when de nigger won't mind dey pats do chain to one foot and a ball on it 'bout big as a nigger's head, and he have to drag it down with him who ever he go. My white folks moved to Eastrop in Louisiana and den to Texas and brung me with them. When us work in de field us have de cook what put us feed on big trays and carry it to de field, den we stop and sat it under shade of a tree, if dey any. Dey give us bread and meat and syrup for dinner and us has bacon long as it last.

When I's free I rents land and crops 'round. after I gits marry. Befo' dat, I was here, dere and yonder, for my board and clothes and four bits de day. I give all my chillen de eddication, leastwise day all kin read and write and dat's what I cain't de. I 'longs to de Meth'dist church and I don't understan' some dose other churches very well. Seems strange to me dat at dis late time day's tryin' find new ways of gittin' to Keaven."

His name is Horatio W. Williams , but he is known as Rash to all of his friends. He is a well-built old man of 83, a little above the average in height. He has rather large negroid features, a pleasant face and manner, a kind heart, and great admiration for books and learning. Rash , now living in Jasper, was born a Norseworthy ' slave in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, in 1854.

I was bo'n in Slav'ry at Pine Bluff, Ark'ansaw, July 2, 1854, 'n' dat mek me 'bout 83 year' ol' dey tells me. Woodruff Norseworthy was my owner 'n' boss all d' time I was a slave. I marry in 1875. I los' my wife two year' ago 'n' w'en a man loose a good woman now-a-days he sho' looses sum'in. Us had thu'teen chillen, but I got on'y two gals now. 'Mos' d' chillens die' w'en dey was babies. One d' gals got thu'teen chillens 'live now. I gits eight dollar' a mont' pension but da ain' 'nuf. I jus' bummin' 'roun' wid my folks to lib a'tall. My boss man was mean to his niggers. I 'member crawlin' down thr'oo d' weeds 'n' lis'inin' one time w'en dey beat one 'r' dem. Eb'ry time he hit him he pray. Boss hab fi'teen slaves. I recollec' one time dey was gwinter beat my mudder. She run t' d' kitchen 'n' jump behin' d' kitchen do' 'n' kiver herse'f up in d' big pile 'r' dirty clo's dat was dere. Dey neber t'ink t' look dere fo' her 'n' she stay dere all day. But d' nex' day dey kotch her 'n' whip her." Dem w'at run 'way, dey git bloodhoun's 'n' hunt 'em wid. W'en dey hear d' houn's comin' dey clum' a tree but dey couldn' stay dere long cause dey marsters mek 'em git down 'r' dey shoot dem. 'N' w'en dey did git down d' dawgs all jump on dem 'n' tear dem t' pieces if'n d' marster warn't dere t' beat dem off. I nebber done nuthin' t' git d' houn's after me but lots 'r' niggers did. Our boss didn' keep no parrot to tell on d' niggers but some did. 'N' you ought t' hear dem parrot call an' sic' d' dawg if a nigger was doin' sump'n' wrong. I rec'lect once our w'ite folks had comp'ny. A white gemman 'n' his wife dey come 'n' stay all night. D' gemman was some kin' 'r' trablin' man 'n' he hab some big suit case. Dat night one 'r' our nigger men slep' on d' po'ch jes' outside d' room w'er d' comp'ny slep'. In d' night he slip in d' room 'n' t'lefed a fine w'ite shu't (shirt) outn' d' gemman's suit case 'n' was wearin' it 'roun' d' nex' mornin'. Co'se he couldn' read 'n' he ain' know d' w'ite man have he name on d' shu't. W'en d' boss fin' it out dey tuk dat nigger down in d' bottom. I crawl thr'oo d' bresh 'n' watch. Dey tie he foots togedder ober a lim' 'r' a tree, 'n' let he haid hang down 'n' beat him 'til d' blood run down on d' roots 'r' dat tree. W'en dey tuk him down his back look like raw meat. He nearly die. If our oberseer hab a darky w'at he couldn' make min' him he put a chain to one foot 'n' a ball on it 'bout 's big's dat nigger's head 'n' dat darky hab t' wuk 'n' drag dat t'ing 'roun' wid him all day. My w'ite folks move from Pine Bluff, Arkansaw, to Bastrop, Lou's'ana, an' den on to Texas, 'n' brung me wid 'em. W'en us wuk in d' fiel' us had a cook w'at put us food on big tways an' carry it to d' fiel', den we would stop 'n' eat under shade of a tree, if dey was any 'bout. Dey give us bread, meat 'n' sirup fo' dinner. Us had bacon 's long 's it last', den dey kill' d' beefs 'n' dat was our meat. Dey raise' cotton, 'n' co'n 'n' sweet 'taters 'n' peas. W'en I's free I rent lan' 'n' cropped 'roun', dat is, atter I git marry. Befo' dat I was yere, dere 'n' yon'er, fo' my bo'd (board) 'n' clo's 'n' fo' bits a day. I gib all my chillun a edication, leastwise dey all kin read 'n' write 'n' dats w'at I kain't do. My mud she hab so many younger chillun w'en I was growin' up she kep' me hired out to d' w'ite folks so she could sorter git 'long." Mattie Jones , Cal Jones ' wife w'at cooks at d' Bell Jim Hotel in Jasper, she my dawter. Dey uster pay 'er $15.00 a week, now dey cut 'er wages to $8.00, but she got 'nuf money save up to buil' her a good house. I belongs to d' Meth'dis chu'ch 'n' I don' unnerstan' some dese udder chu'chs bery (very) well. Seems strange to me dat at dis late time dey's tryin' to fin' new ways 'r' gittin' to Hebben.