“Me and Mars White went to work.  We see droves darkies just rovin’ round.  Said they huntin’ work and homes.  Some ask for victuals.  Yes they give em something to eat.  When they come in droves they couldn’t give em much.  Some of em oughter left.  Some of the masters was mean.  Some of em mighty good.

“Me and Mars White and his boys rigged up a high wheel that run a band to a lay (lathe).  One man run the wheel wid his hands and one man at the lay (lathe) all time.  We made pipes outer maple and chairs.  We chiseled out table legs and bed post.  We made all sort of things.  Anything to sell.  We sold a heap of things.  We made money.  If I’d had sense to keep part of it.  Mars White always give me a share.  We had a good livin’ soon as we got over the war.

“I farmed.  I was a brick layer.  Mars White lernt me that.  When he died I followed that trade.  I worked at New Orleans, Van Buren, Jackson, Meridian.  I worked at Lake Villiage with Mr. Lasley, and Mr. Ivy.  They was fine brick layers.  I worked for Dr. Stubbs.  Mr. Scroggin never went huntin’ without me but once over here on Cache River.  He give me land to build my cabins.  I got lumber up at the mills here.  Folks come to my cabins from 23 states.  J. Dall Long at St. Louis sent me a block wid my picture.  I didn’t know what it was.  Mr. Moss told me it was a bomb like they used in the World War.  I had some cards made in Memphis, some Little Rock.  I sent em out by the telephone books tellin’ em it was good fishin’ now.

“J.  Dall Long said when I go back home I send you somethin’ nice.  That what he sent in the mail.

“It was ugliest picture of me in a boat an’ a big fish holt my britches leg pullin’ me over out the boat.  He had me named “Hambones” under it.  I still got my block.  I got nuther thing—­old aunties bonnet she wore in slavery.

“I quit keepin’ club house.  I kept it 27 years.  I rented the cabins, sold minnows and bates.  They give me the land but I couldn’t sell it.  Old woman everybody call “Nig” cook fer me.  I wanter live like Nig and go up yonder.  I ainter goner be in this world long but I want to go to heben.  Nig was not my wife.  She was a fine cook.  She cooked an’ stayed at my cabins.  This little chile—­orphan chile—­I got wid me was Nig’s grandchild.  When Nig died I took him.  I been goin with him to pick cotton.  I want er lern him to work.  Egercation ain’t no good much to darkies.  I been tryin’ to see what he could do bettern farm.  They ain’t nuthin’.  I set down on the ground and pick some so he will pick.  He is six years old.  When it rain I caint pick and set on the wet ground.

Ku Klux