“One of the boys had a pet billy-goat.  It got up on top mama’s house one time.  It would bleat and look down at them.  They was afraid it would jump down on them if they went out.  It chewed up things Aunt Beanie washed.  She had them put out on bushes and might had a line too.  They fattened it and killed it.  Mama said Mr. Bill Keller never had nothing too good to divide with his niggers.  I reckon by that they got some of the goat.

“They lived like we live now.  Every family done his own cooking.  I don’t know how many families lived on the place.

“I know about the Yankees.  They come by and every one of the men and boys went with them but Uncle Cal.  He was cripple and they advised him not to start.  Didn’t none of the women go.  Mama said she never seen but one ever come back.  She thought they got killed or went on some place else.

“Mr. Keller died and Miss Ada went back to her folks.  They left everything in our care that they didn’t move.  She took all her house things.  They sold or took all their stock.  They left us a few cows and pigs.  I don’t know how long they stayed after the old man died.  His children was young; he might not been so old.

“I recollect grandma.  She smoked a pipe nearly all the time.  My papa was a livery stable man.  He was a fine man with stock.  He was a little black man.  Mama was too big.  Grandma was taller but she was slick black.  He lived at Mobile, Alabama.  I was the onliest child mama had.  Uncle ’Tate Keller’ took grandma and mama to Mobile.  He never went to the War.  He was a good carpenter and he worked out when he didn’t have a lot to do in the field.  He was off at work when all the black men and boys left Mr. Bill.  He never went back after they left till freedom.

“They didn’t know when freedom took place.  They was all scattering for two years about to get work and something to eat.  Tate come and got them.  They went off in a wagon that Tate made for his master, Bill Keller.  We come to Tupelo, Mississippi from Mobile when I was a little bit of a girl.  Then we made one crop and come to Helena.  Uncle Tate died there and mama died at Crocketts Bluff.  My papa died back in Mobile, Alabama.  He was breaking a young horse and got throwed up side a tree.  He didn’t live long then.

“I got three boys now and I had seben—­all boys.  They farms and do public work.  Tom is in Memphis.  Pete is in Helena and I live wid Macon between here (Wheatley) and Cotton Plant.  We farm.  I done everything could be thought of on a farm.  I ploughed some less than five year ago.  I liked to plough.  My boy ploughs all he can now and we do the chopping.  We all pick cotton and get in the corn.  We work day laborers now.

“If I was young the times wouldn’t stand in my way.  I could make it.  I don’t know what is the trouble lessen some wants too much.  They can’t get it.  We has a living and thankful for it.  I never ’plied for no help yet.