y was John Butler and we all was
raised in Washington-Wilkes.

Mammy was a Frank Collar niggah and her man was of the tribe of Ben
Butler, some miles down de road. Et was one of dem trial
marriages--they'se tried so hard to see each other but old Ben Butler
says two passes a week war enuff to see my mammy on de Collar
plantation. When de war was completed pappy came home to us. We wuz a
family of ten--four females called Sally, Liza, Ellen and Lottie and six
strong bucks called Charlie, Elisha, Marshal, Jack, Heywood and little
Johnnie, [TR: 'cuz he war' marked out] de baby.

De Collar plantation wuz big and I don't know de size of it. Et must
have been big for dere war [HW: 250] niggahs aching to go to work--I
guess they mus' have been aching after de work wuz done. Marse Frank
bossed the place hisself--dere war no overseers. We raised cotton,
corn, wheat and everything we un's et. Dere war no market to bring de
goods to. Marse Frank wuz like a foodal lord of back history as my good
for nothing grandson would say--he is the one with book-larning from
Atlanta. Waste of time filling up a nigger's head with dat trash--what
that boy needs is muscle-ology--jes' look at my head and hands.

My mammy was maid in de Collar's home and she had many fine
dresses--some of them were give to her by her missus. Pappy war a field
nigger for ole Ben Butler and I worked in the field when I wuz knee high
to a grasshopper. We uns et our breakfast while et war dark and we
trooped to the fields at sun-up, carrying our lunch wid us. Nothing
fancy but jes' good rib-sticking victuals. We come in from the fields at
sun-down and dere were a good meal awaiting us in de slave quarters. My
good Master give out rations every second Monday and all day Monday wuz
taken to separate the wheat from the chaff--that is--I mean the victuals
had to be organized to be marched off to de proper depository.

Before we uns et we took care of our mules. I had a mule named George--I
know my mule--he was a good mule.

"Yes, I hollow at the mule, and the
mule would not gee, this mornin'.
Yes, I hollow at the mule, and the
mule would not gee.
An' I hit him across the head with
the single-tree, so soon."

Yes, Boss-man I remembers my mule.

Marse Frank gave mammy four acres of ground to till for herself and us
childrens. We raised cotton--yes-sah! one bale of it and lots of garden
truck. Our boss-man give us Saturday as a holiday to work our f