My mammy was maid in de Collar's home and she had many fine dresses—some of them were give to her by her missus. Pappy war a field nigger for ole Ben Butler and I worked in the field when I wuz knee high to a grasshopper. We uns et our breakfast while et war dark and we trooped to the fields at sun-up, carrying our lunch wid us. Nothing fancy but jes' good rib-sticking victuals. We come in from the fields at sun-down and dere were a good meal awaiting us in de slave quarters. My good Master give out rations every second Monday and all day Monday wuz taken to separate the wheat from the chaff—that is—I mean the victuals had to be organized to be marched off to de proper depository.
Before we uns et we took care of our mules. I had a mule named George—I know my mule—he was a good mule.
"Yes, I hollow at the mule, and the
mule would not gee, this mornin'.
Yes, I hollow at the mule, and the
mule would not gee.
An' I hit him across the head with
the single-tree, so soon."
Yes, Boss-man I remembers my mule.
Marse Frank gave mammy four acres of ground to till for herself and us childrens. We raised cotton—yes-sah! one bale of it and lots of garden truck. Our boss-man give us Saturday as a holiday to work our four acres.
All the niggers worked hard—de cotton pickers had to pick 200 pounds of cotton a day and if a nigger didn't, Marse Frank would take de nigger to the barn and beat him with a switch. He would tell de nigger to hollow loud as he could and de nigger would do so. Then the old Mistress would come in and say! "What are you doing Frank?" "Beating a nigger" would be his answer. "You let him alone, he is my nigger" and both Marse Frank and de whipped nigger would come out of the barn. We all loved Marse and the Mistress. No, we wuz never whipped for stealing—we never stole anything in dose days—much.
We sure froliked Saturday nights. Dat wuz our day to howl and we howled. Our gals sure could dance and when we wuz thirsty we had lemonade and whiskey. No sah! we never mixed [HW: no] whiskey with [HW: no] water.—Dem dat wanted lemonade got it—de gals all liked it. Niggers never got drunk those days—we wuz scared of the "Paddle-Rollers." Um-m-h and swell music. A fiddle and a tin can and one nigger would beat his hand on the can and another nigger would beat the strings on the [HW: fiddle] [TR: 'can' marked out.] with broom straws. It wuz almos' like a banjo. I remembers we sung "Little Liza Jane" and "Green Grows the Willow Tree". De frolik broke up in de morning—about two o'clock—and we all scattered to which ever way we wuz going.
We put on clean clothes on Sunday and go to church. We went to de white church. Us niggars sat on one side and de white folks sat on the other. We wuz baptized in de church—de "pool-room" wuz right in de church.
If we went visiting we had to have a pass. If nigger went out without a pass de "Paddle-Rollers" would get him. De white folks were the "Paddle-Rollers" and had masks on their faces. They looked like niggers wid de devil in dere eyes. They used no paddles—nothing but straps—wid de belt buckle fastened on.
Yes sah! I got paddled. Et happened dis way. I'se left home one Thursday to see a gal on the Palmer plantation—five miles away. Some gal! No, I didn't get a pass—de boss was so busy! Everything was fine until my return trip. I wuz two miles out an' three miles to go. There come de "Paddle-Rollers" I wuz not scared—only I couldn't move. They give me thirty licks—I ran the rest of the way home. There was belt buckles all over me. I ate my victuals off de porch railing. Some gal! Um-m-h. Was worth that paddlin' to see that gal—would do it over again to see Mary de next night.