“My mother would tell us bout the war. She had on some old shoes—wooden shoes. Her white folks name was Hines. That was in North Carolina. I emigrated here when they was emigratin’ folks here. I was grown then.
“Durin’ the war I heered the shootin’ and the people clappin’ their hands.
“My mother said they was fightin’ to free the people but I didn’t know what freedom was. I member hearin’ em whoopin’ and hollerin’ when peace was ’clared and talkin’ bout it.
“Yes’m I went to school some—not much. I learned a right smart to read but not much writin’.
“We’d go up to the white folks house every Sunday evenin’ and old mistress would learn us our catechism. We’d have to comb our heads and clean up and go up every Sunday evenin’. She’d line us up and learn us our catechism.
“We stayed right on there after the war. They paid my mother. I picked cotton and nussed babies and washed dishes.
“I was married when I was twenty. Never been married but once and my husband been dead nigh bout twenty years.”
“When I come here this town wasn’t much—sure wasn’t much. Used to have old car pulled by mules and a colored man had that—old Wiley Jones. He’s dead now.
“I had eleven childen. All dead but five. My boy what’s up North went to that Spanish War. He stayed till peace was declared.
“After we come to Arkansas my husband voted every year and worked the county roads. I guess he voted Republican.