"Ah stayed on the plantation during the wah, and jes' did what they tol' me. Ah was 21 then. And ah walked 50 mile to vote for Gen'l Grant at Vaughn's precinct. Ah voted fo' him in two sessions, he run twice. And ah was 21 the fust time, cause they come and got me, and say, 'Come on now. You can vote now, you is 21.' And theah now—mah age is right theah. 'Bout as close as you can get it.
"Ah was close to the battle front, and I seen all dem famous men. Seen Gen'l Lee, and Grant, and Abe Lincoln. Seen John Brown, and seen the seven men that was hung with him, but we wasn't allowed to talk to any of 'em, jes' looked on in the crowd. Jes' spoke, and say 'How d' do.'
[HW: Harper's Ferry is not [TR: rest illegible]
"But ah did talk to Lincoln, and ah tol' him ah wanted to be free, and he was a fine man, 'cause he made us all free. And ah got a ole histry, it's the Sanford American History, and was published in 1784[HW:18?]. But ah don't know where it is now, ah misplaced it. It is printed in the book, something ah said, not written by hand. And it says, 'Ah am a ole slave which has suvved fo' 21 yeahs, and ah would be quite pleased if you could help us to be free. We thank you very much. Ah trust that some day ah can do you the same privilege that you are doing for me. Ah have been a slave for many years.' (Note discrepancy).
"Aftah the wah, ah came to Cincinnati, and ah was married three times. Mah fust wife was Nannie. Then there was Mollie. They both died, and than ah was married Cora heah, and ah had six child'en, one girl and fo' boys. (Note discrepancy) They's two living yet; James is 70 and he is not married. And Bob's about thutty or fo'ty. Ah done lost al mah rememb'ance, too ole now. But Mollie died when he was bo'n, and he is crazy. He is out of Longview (Home for Mentally Infirm) now fo' a while, and he jes' wanders around, and wo'ks a little. He's not [TR: "not" is crossed out] ha'mless, he wouldn't hurt nobody. He ain't married neithah.
"After the wah, ah bought a fiddle, and ah was a good fiddlah. Used to be a fiddlah fo' the white girls to dance. Jes' picked it up, it was a natural gif'. Ah could still play if ah had a fiddle. Ah used to play at our hoe downs, too. Played all those ole time songs—Soldier's Joy, Jimmy Long Josey, Arkansas Traveler, and Black Eye Susie. Ah remembah the wo'ds to that one."
Smiling inwardly with pleasure as he again lived the past, the old Negro swayed and recited:
Black Eye Susie, you look so fine,
Black Eye Susie, ah think youah mine.
A wondahful time we're having now,
Oh, Black Eye Susie, ah believe that youah mine.
And away down we stomp aroun' the bush,
We'd think that we'd get back to wheah we could push
Black Eye Susie, ah think youah fine,
Black Eye Susie, Ah know youah mine.
Then, he resumed his conversational tone:
"Befo' the wah we nevah had no good times. They took good care of us, though. As pa'taculah with slaves as with the stock—that was their money, you know. And if we claimed a bein' sick, they'd give us a dose of castah oil and tu'pentine. That was the principal medicine cullud folks had to take, and sometimes salts. But nevah no whiskey—that was not allowed. And if we was real sick, they had the Doctah fo' us.