Befo' I's married, I's Sallie Burdette . De white folks toll me I's born eighty-one years ago. I reckon I's dat old. I know I's born on Massa Mike Burdette's cotton plantation at Burdette Prairie, right close to Austin, and mammy's name was Het Burdette . She chopped and picked gotten and been dead long time. John Burdette was my pappy and he was jus' a reg'lar fieldman, too. Pappy been dead, mercy, so long! Massa Burdette had a overseer and he sho' rough. I think his name must be Debbil, he so rough. My sister, Mollie , was weaver et de loom, and iffen she didn't git out 'nough for de day she an tied up in sittin' form and whipped hard. She had stripes all over de shoulders Dere was a whole row of log cabins close to de big house and de roofs was made of clapboards. It didn't rain in none. De only openin' was de door, no windows. Dere was mud and stick chimnies and a dirt floor. It wasn't no better dan a corncrib but purty warm in winter, 'cause de holes chinked with mud.

Massa Burdette 'low us nigger chillen come to de big house at night and his chillen larn us to read. Dey had blue-back spellers, but I didn't cotch on much and can't read or write now. Pappy a purty good man, 'siderin' he a slave man. One day pappy and Uncle Paul and Uncle Andy and Uncle Joe was takin' bales of cotton on ox wagons down to de Rio Grande. Each man was drivin' a ox wagon down to Brownsville, where dey was to wait to meet Massa Burdette . But pappy and de others left de wagons 'long de river bank and rolled a bale of cotton in de river and all four of dem gits on dat bale and rows with sticks 'cross over into Mexico. Dis was durin' de war. Pappy come back to us after freedom and say he done git 'long fine with Mexico. He larnt to talk jas' like dem. Me and mammy stays on at Massa Burdette's place de whole time pappy am gone. It was on June 19 we was made free and Massa Burdette say iffen we stays on his place and gather de crops, he give each of us a free eggnog. We ain't never got no eggnog befo' so it sound purty good and we stays and gathers de crops. But dat eggnog made me sick. My cousin Mitchell come and got us and brung us to Chapel Hill. He done rent him a farm dere and looks out for us till pappy comes back. He brung some money back from Mexico and taken us all to Brenham and buyed us some clothes. Den he moved us up to Austin and done any work he could git. I stayed home till 1874 and den married John Wroe , and he rented land and farmed and died in 1927. We raises eleven chillen and day all good and 'haved. All my grandchillen calls me 'Big Mama,' but I's so li'l now dey ought to call me 'Li'l Mama." I owns dis li'l farm. John saved 'nough money to buy it befo' he died. I gits a li'l pension and my daughter works and when she's workin' my grandchil' takes care of me.

Sallie Wroe , 81, was born a slave on Mike Burdette's cotton plantation at Burdette Prairie, near Austin. Her parents were John and Het Burdette , who were field workers. There were seven children in the Burdette family. Sallie's job was to help with the work at the "big house." She says her parents had to work hard, and that they were mistreated at times. Her father ran away from his master and went to Mexico, staying there until after the close of the Civil War. Mike Burdette allowed the slave children to come to the plantation house at night to be taught their A-B-C's. But Sallie never did "catch on" and cannot read or write. In 1874 she married John Wroe . The couple had eleven children, six boys and five girls. John Wroe died in 1927. Five of the children are living. Sallie owns a farm, and one of her daughters lives with her. She receives a monthly pension from the State. Her address is R.R.l, Box 253, Austin. Her story:

Befo' I was married, I was Sallie Burdette . De white folks tell me dat I was bawn about 81 years ago. I recon I'se dat old. I don't know. I was bawn on Mawster Mike Burdette's cotton plantation at Burdette Prairie, near Austin Mammy's name was Het Burdette . All ob de folks called her Aunt Het . She was short and a heavy set sort of pusson. She was a field woman, and had to chop and pick de cotton. She has been dead a long time ago John Burdette was my pappy. He was slim and tall. Pappy was jes' a regular fieldman, too. Pappy's been dead, oh, mercy! For so long. Mike Burdette was our mawster and he had a laghe cotton plantation. Mawster Burdette had an overseer, and he sure was rough. I think dat his name was Debil. My sister, Mollie , was a weaver at de loom, and at one time she didn't git de amount she had to git for de day, and she was tied up in a sittin'-lak form and she was whopped putty hard. She had stripes all over her shoulders. Mammy always told me to be a good girl, and to work hard, but I knowed how to work. My job, when I was a chile, was to help aroun' de big house. I had better clean up everything too, or I'd got de bull whoop on my back. Dere was a whole row of log cabins near de big house. De cabins was ob logs, and de roofs was made ob clapboards. Dey was tight enough on de roofs so it didn't rain in none. De cabins was widout windows or loops, and de only openin' was de door. Den dere was the mud and stick chimneys. Each cabin had a dirt floor. It wasn't any better dan a cawncrib. De cabins was putty wahm in winter, 'cause de holes between de logs was chinked and daubed wid mud. Mawster Burdette had three girls: Nannie , Rachel , and Maggie . He had jes' one boy, but I kain't think ob his name. Mawster Burdette would allow us chillun to come to de big house at night, and his chillun would learn us our A-B-C's. Dey had de blue back spellers, and we'd learn f'rom 'em. But, I kain't read or write to dis day, 'cause I jes' didn't catch on. All I kin do is to make a cross fo' my name. Dem chillun tried to learn me, 'cause I was Nannie's little nigger. It was up to her to learn me my A-B-C's. Nannie's mammy was named Sarah or Sallie, and I was named fo' her. Pappy was a putty good man, considerin' dat he was a slaveman.

One day pappy, Uncle Paul , Uncle Andy , and Uncle Joe - dey wasn't our uncles, but we always called de older folks uncle and auntie - was takin' bales of cotton on ox wagons down to de Rio Grande River. Each man was drivin' a ox wagon down to Brownsville, where dey was to wait and meet Mawster Burdette . But, pappy and de other men left de wagons along de river bank, rolled a bale ob cotton into de river, and all four ob 'em got on dat bale and rowed across de Rio Grande over into Mexico. Dis was durin' de Civil War, I believe. Pappy told us later dat he done got along fine wid dem Mexicans over in Mexico. He learned to talk jes' lak a Mexican. Pappy and Uncle Andy could talk lak two Mexican brothaws. I don't remembah whut type ob work dey done ovah in Mexico. I know dat pappy never married no Mexican woman. Me and mammy stayed on at Mawster Burdette's place durin' de whole time dat pappy was gone. He didn't come back till aftah slavery time, and we was livin' at Chappel Hill, Washington County. Aftah slavery, and when we was free, my Cousin Mitchell - we always called him Mitch - come and got us f'om de Burdette place and brought us to Chappel Hill, and looked out fo' us till pappy come. It was on June 19, 1865, dat we was made free. I remembah how Mawster Burdette told us dat if we would stay on his place and gather de crops and stay till Christmas, he would give each ob us a free eggnog. We had never got no free eggnog befo' so it sounded putty good. We stayed and gathered the crops. But dat eggnog made me sick, and I've nevah tasted de stuff since. I jes' don't lak it. It was den dat Cousin Mitch come aftah us. Den pappy come home about a year aftah we lived at Chappel Hill. Pappy went to Brenham and bought us all some clothes. I reckon he had some money, 'cause he bought all ob dem clothes.  Pappy den moved us on up to Austin, where he done any kind ob work dat he could fin'. I stayed home till 1874, when I was about eighteen. Den I was married to John Wroe , who was a fahmer and had belonged to a Dr. Wroe . He rented land f'om one pusson and den anothah, until he died in 1927

We had eleben chillun. Dere was six boys and five girls. De chillun stayed wid me as long as dey could. Dey was all good and behaved chillun. One daughter was twenty-five befo' she even thought ob gittin' married. All ob my gran chillun call me Big Mamma, but I'se small and dey should call me Little Mamma. I'se been putty sick de last few weeks, and my little grandaughter stays wid me and does de cookin' while her mammy is in de cotton patch trying to make some money to buy her chillun some school clothes.