thers an one sister. My mother died two years
after de war. My father give my sister to my grandmother. Jes give 'er
to 'er."

"How come I live in Knoxville, I was a young man, when I started off
from Georgia, aimin to go over de mountains to Kentucky whar I heard
dey pay good wages. I stopped in Campbell country, Tennessee wid
another feller, an' I see'd a pretty gal workin' in de field. An I
say's, I'm goin' to marry dat gal. Sho 'nough me an her was married in
less dan six months. Her Marster build us a log house and we lived dar
'till we come to Knoxville, Tennessee. Now, all o my boys is dead. Evy
one o em worked for Mr. Peters (Peters and Bradley Flour Mills, of
Knoxville)--and dey all died workin' fer him. So Mister Willie, he say
he gwine let me live here, in de company house, the rest o my days."

The four room frame house stands near a creek at the dead end of an
alley on which both whites and negroes live. The huge double bed,
neatly made, stands between two windows from which there is an
unobstructed view of the highway traversing north and south through
northern Knoxville, several blocks away from Andrew's home. "I jes lay
down on dat bed nights and watch them autimobiles flyin by. Dey go
Blip! Blip! and Blip! An I say to my self, 'Watch them fools!' Folkes
ain got de sense dey's born wid. Ain smart like dey used to be. An
times ain good like dey was. Ef'n it hadnt been for some of dem crazy
fools, actin up and smarty, me an my wife'd be gittin maybe a hun'ered
an' more dollars a month, 'stead o the fifteen we gits 'tween us for
ole' age help. They'd ought to let Rosevelt alone. An its his own
folks as is fitin' 'im. He is a big man even ef he is a Democrat. I'm
a Republican though. Voted my first time for Blaine."

"Yes I votes sometimes now, when dey come gits me. An befo I got sick,
I would ride the street car to town. An I goes down to de Court House,
and when I see dem cannons in deyard I cain keep from cryin'. My wife
arsk me what make me go look at dem cannon ef'n dey makes me cry. An I
tells her I cry 'bout de good and de bad times dem cannon bringed us.
But no cannons or nothin' else, seems like going to bring back de good
old times. But I dont worry 'bout all dese things much. Accordin' to
de Good Book's promise, weepin' may endure for a night, den come joy
in de mornin. An I knows dat de day's soon come when I goes to meet my
folks and my Lord an Marster in his Heaven, whar dey ain no more
wee