“She was sick only one week and the doctor said she died of old age.  He said it was just her time.  She didn’t have nothin’ the matter with her but jus’ old age he said so far as he could find.  Dr. Fletcher was our doctor.  She died in Jerome, Arkansas about sixteen miles from the Louisiana line.  Leastwise, they tell me it’s about sixteen miles from the line.  She always told us that she had her business fixed with the Lord and that when she taken sick, It wouldn’t be long.  And sure ’nough, it wasn’t.

“I farmed until my mother and brother died.  Then I came up here with my sister as I had no children living.  I jus’ wash and iron now whenever I can get somethin’ to do.

“I have been married once.  I had three children.  All of them are dead.  My children are dead and my husband is dead.

“I belong to the Baptist church down on Spring Street.  I always unite with the church whenever I go to a place.  I don’t care whether I stay there or not.

“My mama’s master was good as far as white folks generally be in slavery times.  He never whipped my grandmother nor my mother.  He was good to the field hands too.  He never whipped them.  He would feed them too.  He had right smart of field hands but I don’t know just how many.  I don’t think he ever sold any of his slaves.  I think he come by them from his father because I have heard them say that his father told him before he died never to ’part with Black Mammy.  That was what he called her.  And he kept them altogether jus’ like his father told him to.  His father said, ’I you to keep all my Negroes together and Black Mammy I don’t want you let her be whipped because she nursed all of you.’  She said she never was whipped ’cept once when she got a cockle berry up her nose and he got it out and gave her a little brushing—­not as much as grandma would have given her.

“He kept them all in good shoes and warm clothes and give them plenty to eat.  So many of the slaves on other plantations didn’t have half enough to eat and were half naked and barefooted all the time.”

Interviewer:  Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed:  Mahalia Shores, Marianna, Arkansas
Age:  77

“I was born in Greene County, Georgia.  My owner was Jim Jackson.  He bought my mother’s father.  She was raised on Jim Jackson’s place.  I rec’collect a right smart about slavery times.  He made us dress up and let the nigger traders see what little niggers I got.  We thought it was nice.  What fine limbs we had.  Aunt Judy—­some called her ’big mamma’—­lived down under the hill.  She was old and seen after the children.  The biggest children took care and nursed the little ones.  On Wednesday and Saturday the cook made ginger cakes for the little children.  The house girl called us.  She was Aunt Teena’s girl.  Aunt Teena was a housemaid.  See little niggers coming from every direction to get our cakes.