that county at that time. There was big doings in
town when they held court. Real big doings.

No, ma'am I didn't do nothing much when the war was over. No, I didn't
go to be with my daddy. I moved over to live with a man I called Uncle
Billy--Uncle Billy Bryant he was. He had all his family with him. I
stayed with him and did what he told me to--'til I grew up. He was
always good to me--treated me like his own children.

Uncle Billy lived at Rockport. I liked living with him. I remember the
court house burned down--or blowed down--seems like to me it burned
down. Uncle Billy got the job of cleaning bricks. I helped him. That was
when they moved over to Malvern--the court house I mean. No--no they
didn't. Not then, that was later--they didn't build the railroad until
later. They built it back--sort of simple like--built it down by Judge
Kieth's.

No ma'am. I don't remember nothing about when they built the railroad.
You see we lived across the river--and I guess--well I just didn't know
nothing about it. But Rockport wasn't no good after the railroad come
in. They moved the court house and most of the folks moved away. There
wasn't nothing much left.

I started farming around there some. I moved about quite a bit. I lived
down sort of by Benton too for quite a spell. I worked around at most
any kind of farming.

'Course most of the time we was working at cotton and corn. I's spent
most of my life farming. I like it. Moved around pretty considerable.
Sometimes I hired out--sometimes I share cropped--sometimes I worked
thirds and fourths. What does I mean by hired out--I means worked for
wages. Which way did I like best--I'll take share-cropping. I sort of
like share-cropping.

I been in Hot Springs for 7 years. Come to be with my daughter." (An
interruption by a small negro girl--neatly dressed and bright-eyed. Not
content with watching from the sidelines she had edged closer and
squatted comfortably within a couple of feet of the interviewer. A wide,
pearly grin, a wee pointing forefinger and, "Granddaddy, that lady's got
a tablet just like Aunt Ellen. See, Granddaddy.") "You mustm't bother
the lady. Didn't your mother tell you not to stop folks when they is
talking."--the voice was kindly and there was paternal pride in it. A
nickle--tendered the youngster by the interviewer--and guaranteed to
produce a similar tablet won a smile and childish silence.

"Yes, ma'am, I lives with my daughter--her name is Lulu Mit