sey I hated loosin'
dose clothes I had when I was a girl more dan anything I lost. An' I
didn't have to work in de fields. In between times I cooked an' I would
jump in de loom. Yes, ma'am I could weave good. Did my yards every day.
I weave cloth for dresses--fine dresses you would use thread as thin as
dat you sews wid today--I weaves cloth for underclothes, an fo
handkerchiefs an for towels. Den I weaves nits and lice. What's
dat--well you see it was kind corse cloth de used for clothes like
overalls. It mas sort of speckeldy all over--dat's why dey called it
nits and lice.

Law, I used to be good once, but after I got all burned up I wasn't good
for so much. It happened dis way. A salt lick was on a nearby
plantation. Ever body who wanted salt, dey had to send a hand to help
make it. I went over one day--an workin' around I stepped on a live
coal. I move quick an' I fall plum over into a salt vat. Before dey got
me out I was pretty near ruined.

What did dey do? Dey killed a hog--fresh killed a hog. An' dey fry up de
fat--fry it up wid some of de hog hairs an' dey greesed me good. An' it
took all de fire out of de burns. Dey kept me greezed for a long time. I
was sick nearly six months. Dey was good to me.

An one day, young miss, she married. Ol' miss give me to her 'long of 23
others. Twenty four was all she could spare an' keep some for herself an
save enough for de other children. We went to California. Young Miss was
good, but her husband was mean. He give me de only white folks whippin I
ever had. Ol' miss never had to whip her slaves. I was tryin' to cook on
an earth stove--dat's why it happen. Did you ever hear of an earth
stove? Well, dey make sort of drawers out of dirt. You burn wood in 'em.
After you git used to it you kin cook on it good. But dat day I was busy
an' I burned de biscuits. An' he whip me.

I run off. I knew in general de way home. When I come to de Brazos river
it looked most a mile across. But I jump in an' I swim it. One day I
done found a pearl handled pocket knife. A few days later I meet up wid
a white boy. An' he say its his knife, an' I say, 'White boy, I know dat
ain't your knife, an' you know it ain't. But if you'll write me out a
free pass, I'll give it to you.' An' so he wrote it. After dat, I could
walk right up to de front gates an ask for somthin' to eat. Cause I had
a paper sayin' I was Clara Jones an' I was goin' home to my ol' mistress
Mis' Cornelius. Please paterollers