I have about sold the last of the antiques.  In old days the mistress used to give my mother the dishes left from broken sets, odd vases and such.  I had some beautiful things, but one by one have sold them to antique dealers to get something to help out with.  My church gives me a donation every fifth Sunday of a collection for benefit.  Sometimes it is as much as $2.50 and that sure helps on the groceries.  Today I bought four cents worth of beans and one cent worth of onions.  I say you have to cut the garment according to the cloth.  You ain’t even living from hand to mouth, if the hand don’t have something in it to put to the mouth.

No ma’am, we couldn’t get on relief, account of this child teaching.  One relief worker did come to see us.  She was a case worker, she said.  She took down all I told her about our needs and was about ready to go when she saw my seven hens in the yard.  “Whose chickens out there?” she asked.  “I keep a few hens,” I told her.  “Well,” she hollered, “anybody that’s able to keep chickens don’t need to be on relief roll,” and she gathered up her gloves and bag and left.

Yes ma’am, I filed for old age pension, too.  It was in April, 1935 I filed.  When a year passed without hearing, I took my husband down so they could see just how he is not able to work.  They told me not to bring him any more.  Said I would get $10.00 a month.  Two years went, and I never got any.  I went by myself then, and they said yes, yes, they have my name on file, but there is no money to pay.  There must be millions comes in for sales tax.  I don’t know where it all goes.  Of course the white folks get first consideration.  Colored folks always has to bear the brunt.  They just do, and that’s all there is to it.

What do I think of the younger generation?  I wouldn’t speak for all.  There are many types, just like older people.  It has always been like that, though.  If all young folks were like my granddaughter—­I guess there is many, too.  She does all the sewing, and gardening.  She paints the house, makes the draperies and bed clothing.  She can cook and do all our laundry work.  She understands raising chickens for market but just don’t have time for that.  She is honest and clean in her life.

Yes ma’am, I did vote once, a long time ago.  You see, I wasn’t old enough at first, after freedom, when all the colored people could vote.  Then, for many years, women in Arkansas couldn’t vote, anyhow.  I can remember when M.W.  Gibbs was Police Judge and Asa Richards was a colored alderman.  No ma’am!  The voting law is not fair.  It’s most unfair!  We colored folks have to pay just the same as the white.  We pay our sales tax, street improvement, school tax, property tax, personal property tax, dog license, automobile license—­they what have cars—­; we pay utility tax.  And we should be allowed to vote.  I can tell you about three years ago a white lady come down here with her car on election day and ask my old husband would he vote how she told him if she carried him to the polls.  He said yes and she carried him.  When he got there they told him no colored was allowed to vote in that election.  Poor old man, she didn’t offer to get him home, but left him to stumble along best he could.