“My mother was a slave and my father too I recken.  They belonged to Jack Walton when I remembered.  I was born at St. Charles.  My mother died in time of the war at St. Louis.  This is whut I remembers.  My mother was sold twice.  The Prices owned her and the Wakefields owned her before she was owned by old Jack Walton.  I was the youngest child.  I had one brother went to war and he drawed a pension long as he lived.  We children all got scattered out.  Mr. Walton bout the age of my father and he said some day all these niggers be set free and warnt long fore they sho was.  I had one older sister I recollect mighty well.  My mother named Fannie, my father named Abe Walton.  He had a young master James Walton.

“When I was nuthin but a chile I remembers James dressed up like Ku Klux Klan and scared me.  The old master sho did whoop him bout that.  They take care of the little black children and feed em good an don’t let em do too hard er work to stunt em so they take em off and sell em for a good price.

“I remembers the little old log house my granma and granpa way back over on the place stayed in till they died.  We went back after the war and lived ten years on the same place.  We lived close to the white folks in a bigger house.

“I don’t recollect no big change after freedom cept they quit selling and working folks without giving them money.  I was too small to notice much change then I speck.  Times has always been tight wid me.  I ain’t never had very much.  I did work an a livin is all I ever got out of it.  Never could make enough to get ahead.

“The white folks never give the darky nothing when freedom declared.  We used to raise tobacco and sell it to smoke and make snuff.  And he had em make ax handles to sell on the side for money till the crops gathered.

“If you believe in the Bible you won’t believe in women votin’ I never did vote.  I ain’t goner never vote.

“The present condition is fine.  Mrs. Robinson carries a great big truck load to her farm every day to pick cotton.  She sent word up here she take anybody whut wanter work.  I wish I was able to go.  I loves to pick cotton.  She pay em seventy-five cents a hundred.  She’ll pay em too!  I don’t know what they do this winter.  Set by the fire I recken.  But next spring she’ll let hoe that crop.  She took em this past year to hoe out that very cotton they pickin now.  Her husband, he’s sick.  He keeps their store up town.  She takes a few white hands too if they wanter work.  I don’t think the present generation no worse en they ever been.  They drawed up closer together than they used to be.  They buys everything now an they don’t raise nuthin.  It’s the Bible fulfillin.  Everything so high they caint save nuthin!

“I married twice.  First time in the church, other time at home.  I had four children.  I had two in Detroit.  I don’t know where my son is.  He may be there yet.  My daughter there got fourteen children her own.  I don’t know where the others are.  Nom [HW:  long “o” diacritical] they don’t help me a bit, do well helpin theirselves.  I gets the Welfare sistance and I works my garden back here.”