"We didn' go to church, but Sundays we'd gather 'roun' an' listen to the mistis read a little out o' the Bible. The marster said we didn' need no religion an' he finally stopped her from readin' to us.
"When the war come Marster was a captain of a regiment. He went away an' stayed a year. When he come back he was even meaner than before.
"When he come home from the war he stayed for two weeks. The night 'fore he was a-fixin' to leave to go back he come out on his front porch to smoke his pipe. He was a-standin' leanin' up ag'in' a railin' when somebody sneaked up in the darkness an' shot him three times. Oh my Lord! He died the nex' mornin'. He never knowed who done it. I was glad they shot him down.
"Sometimes the cavalry would come an' stay at the house an' the mistis would have to 'tend to 'em an' see that they got plenty to eat an' fresh horses.
"I never seen no fightin'. I stayed on the plantation 'til the war was over. I didn' see none o' the fightin'.
"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout Jefferson Davis. Lincoln was the man that set us free. He was a big general in the war.
"I 'member a song we sung, then. It went kinda like this:
'Free at las',
Free at las',
Thank God Almighty
I's free at las'.
Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm.'
"I only seen the Klu Klux Klan onct. They was a-paradin' the streets here in Brookhaven. They had a Nigger that they was a-goin' to tar an' feather.
"When the mistis tol' us we was free (my pappy was already dead, then) my mammy packed us chillun up to move. We travelled on a cotton wagon to Covington, Louisiana. We all worked on a farm there 'bout a year. Then all 'cept me moved to Mandeville, Louisiana an' worked on a farm there. I hired out to Mr. Charlie Duson, a baker. Then we moved to a farm above Baton Rouge, Louisiana an' worked for Mr. Abe Manning. We jus' travelled all over from one place to another.