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‚I. ~o1
	“Me? Oh, I done washin‘ and ironin‘ mostly, cooked and mOat anything I could get to do. I‘m all worked down now though.

	“We emigrated from Goor~ia to Miasi8sippi. ALl my children born there.

	“I ‘member the soldier8 had guns and we was scared o~ ‘em. We looked for ‘era to come up the road but they come out of the wooda and was around U$ right now. They didn‘ t mind creeks or nothin‘ ‚ ridin‘ horseback or walkin‘ • I know they said ‚ ‘We am ‚ t gwine hurt ‘

	“Old master‘s mother and father was named Sally and Billy. ‘M~ber ‘ein? ‘Co‘se I do——many times as I waited on that table. But they all dead ‘fore I even thought about bein‘ grown.

	“Oh, yes ina‘ani, we had a plenty to eat. That‘s the reason I misses lt now.

“I went to school one year but I had to work so hard I done forgot

nearly everything I learned. I can read a little but my eyes ain‘t no good.

	RD6IU Ku Klux~—you dassent be out after dark. You better not be out i

on the street after dark. But Sunday night they didn‘t bother you when you went to church.

	“I was raised up with two white girls and their mother didn‘t ‘low us to get out of the yard.

	“I used to pick peas and cotton. Yes ma‘am, that was when we was with the same old man, George Yones. I used to huddle (herd) cows for miles and miles. My mother was the milk woman. I don‘ t I~now how many she milked but she milked a heap of ‘eni.

	“Used to climb up in trees and tear our clothes. Then they‘d whip us. Old master say, ‘Don‘t you tell me no lie.‘ Then old Miss Sally would get a stick and make out she gwine kill us, but she wouldn‘t touch us a lick.