was de bes'.) Dat gal was so good 'til
I had to court 'er mos' two years 'fore she'd say she'd have me.

"Us had six chillun. Three of 'em's still livin'. I can't say much for
my chillun. I don' lak to feel hard, but I tried to raise my chillun de
bes' I could. I educated 'em; even bought 'em a piano an' give em'
music. One of 'em is in Memphis, 'nother'n in Detroit, an' de other'n in
Chicago. I writes to 'em to he'p me, but don' never hear from 'em. I's
old an' dey is forgot me, I guess.

"Dat seems to be de way of de worl' now. Ever'thing an' ever'body is too
fas' an' too frivoless[FN: frivilous] dese here times. I tell you, folks
ought to be more lak old Marster was.

"I's a Christian an' loves de Lawd. I expects to go to him 'fore long.
Den I know I's gwine see my old Marstar an' Mistis ag'in."

BIBLIOGRAPHY

John Cameron: Jackson, Mississippi.

Mississippi Federal Writers
Slave Autobiographies

[GUS CLARK
Howison, Mississippi]

Uncle Gus Clark and his aged wife live in a poverty-stricken deserted
village about an eighth of a mile east of Howison.

Their old mill cabin, a relic of a forgotten lumber industry, is
tumbling down. They received direct relief from the ERA until May, 1934,
when the ERA changed the dole to work relief. Uncle Gus, determined to
have a work card, worked on the road with the others until he broke down
a few days later and was forced to accept direct relief. Now, neither
Gus nor Liza is able to work, and the only help available for them is
the meager State Old Age Assistance. Gus still manages to tend their
tiny garden.

He gives his story:

"I'se gwine on 'bout eighty-five. 'At's my age now. I was born at
Richmond, Virginny, but lef' dare right afte' de War. Dey had done
surrendered den, an' my old marster doan have no mo' power over us. We
was all free an' Boss turned us loose.

"My mammy's name was Judy, an' my pappy was Bob. Clark was de Boss's
name. I doan 'member my mammy, but pappy was workin' on de railroad
afte' freedom an' got killed.

"A man come to Richmond an' carried me an' pappy an' a lot of other
niggers ter Loos'anna ter work in de sugar cane. I was little but he
said I could be a water boy. It sho' was a rough place. Dem niggers
quar'l an' fight an' kills one 'nother. Big Boss, he rich, an' doan 'low
no sheriff ter come on his place. He hol' cou't an' settle all 'sputes
hisself. He done bury de dead niggers an' put de one what killed him
back to w