heir devilment
and "fly" to their masters who did not allow a man from another
plantation to bother his slaves. I have known pregnant women to go ten
miles to help do some devilment. My mother was a very strong woman (as I
told you she helped build a railroad), and felt that she could whip any
ordinary man, would not get a passport unless she felt like it; once
when caught on another plantation without a passport, she had all of us
with her, made all of the children run, but wouldn't run
herself--somehow she went upstream, one of the men's horse's legs was
broken and she told him "come and get me" but she knew the master
allowed no one to come on his place to punish his slaves.

"My father was a blacksmith and made the chains used for stocks, (like
handcuffs), used on legs and hands. The slaves were forced to lay flat
on their backs and were chained down to the board made for that purpose;
they were left there for hours, sometimes through rain and cold; he
might 'holler' and groan but that did not always get him released.

"The Race became badly mixed then; some Negro women were forced into
association, some were beaten almost to death because they refused. The
Negro men dare not bother or even speak to some of their women.

"In one instance an owner of a plantation threatened a Negro rider's
sweetheart; she told him and he went crying to this owner who in turned
threatened him and probably did hit the woman; straight to his master
this sweetheart went and when he finished his story, his master
immediately took his team and drove to the other plantation--drove so
fast that one of his horses' dropped dead; when the owner came out he
levelled his double-barrel shotgun at him and shot him dead. No, suh;
some masters did not allow you to bother their slaves.

"A peculiar case was that of Old Jim who lived on another plantation was
left to look out for the fires and do other chores around the house
while 'marster' was at war. A bad rumor spread, and do you know those
mean devils, overseers of nearby plantations came out and got her dug a
deep hole, and despite her cries, buried her up to her neck--nothing was
left out but her head and hair. A crowd of young 'nigger boys' saw it
all and I was one among the crowd that helped dig her out.

"Oh, there's a lots more I know but just cant get it together. My
mother's name was Caroline and my father Patrick; all took the name of
Davis from our master. There were thirteen childre