ere she was raised.

I don't remembuh when de War broke out, but I remembuh seeing the
soldiers with de blue uniforms on. I was afraid of 'em.

Old mistress didn't tell us when he was free, but another white woman
told my mother and I remembuh. One day old mistress told my mother to
git to that wheel and git to work, and my mother said, "I ain't
gwineter, I'm jest as free as you air." So dat very day my mother
packed up all our belongings and moved us to town, Sherman, Texas. She
worked awful hard, doing day work for 50c a day, and sometimes she'd
work for food, clothes or whatever she could git.

I don't believe in conjuring though I heard lotta talk 'bout it.
Sometimes I have pains and aches in my hands, feel like sometime dat
somebody puts dey hands on me, but I think jest de way my nerves is.

I can't say much 'bout Abe Lincoln. He was a republican in favor of de
cullud folk being free. Jeff Davis? Yeah, the boys usta sing a song
'bout 'im:

Lincoln rides a fine hoss,
Jeff Davis rides a mule,
Lincoln is de President,
Jeff Davis is de fool.

Booker T. Washington--I guess he is a right good man. He's for the
cullud people I guess.

I been a Christian thirty some odd years. I've been here some thirty
odd years. Had to come when my husband did. He died in 1902. We
married in 18--I've forgot, but we went to de preacher and got
married. We did more than jump over de broom stick.

In those days we went to church with de white folks. Dey had church at
eleven and the cullud folks at three, but all of us had white
preachers. Our church is standing right there now, at least it was de
last time I was there.

I don't have a favorite song, theys so many good ones, but I like,
"Bound for the Promised Land." I'm a Baptist, my mother was a Baptist,
and her white folks was Baptist.

I have two daughters, Julia Goodwin and Bertha Frazier, and four
grandchildren, both of 'ems been separated. Dey do housework.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves

SALOMON OLIVER
Age 78 yrs.
Tulsa, Oklahoma.

John A. Miller owned the finest plantation in Washington County,
Mississippi, about 12-mile east of Greenville. I was born on this
20,000-acre plantation November 17, 1859, being one of about four
hundred slave children on the place.

About three hundred negro families living in box-type cabins made it
seem like a small town. Built in rows, the cabins were kept
whitewashed, neat and orderly, for the Mas