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Texas Slave Narrative
Sarah Ashley
A small, white-haired negress of quite ordinary manner,Sarah Ashley , 93, tells a bitter story of her youth. At times her pronunciation is almost unintelligible as she recalls her experiences in a slave speculator's gang; her auction on the block in New Orleans; and strenuous days on a cotton plantation in Texas. Sarah's home at Goodrich Texas, is comfortable, a clean-looking frame cottage surrounded by well kept outbuildings, cultivated fields and a liberal variety of chickens of many breeds, pecking busily around the doorstep. "I ain' able t' do nuthin', no mo'. I's jus' plumb gib out. I stay yere all by myse'f. My daughter, Georgia Grime , she uster lib wid me but she been dead fo' (four) year' now. Since den I been yere all by myse'f. I try t' git somebudy t' stay yere wid me but look like nobudy wanter do dat." "I was bo'n in Miss'ippi. I was 'bout five year ol' w'en I lef' d dere 'n' come yere. Mister Henry Thomas he buys us 'n' bring us yere. He was a spec'lator. He buy up lots 'n' niggers 'n' sell 'em. Us fambly was separate'. My uder two sisters 'n' my fadder was sol' t' a man, I neber know he name, in Alabama. I stay wid d' spec'lator's gang fo' five 'r' ten year. Den dey put me up on a block 'n' bid me off. Dat was in N'Yawlins (New Orleans). I was scare' 'n' cry, but dey put me up dere anyway. Dey sol' me 'n' my two sisters. Dey tek me t' Georgy. I t'ink dey pay 'bout a t'ousan' dollar' fo me. Mister Thomas he trabble 'roun' 'n' buy 'n' sell, buy 'n' sell niggers. Dey didn' sell us fo' a long spell. Us stay in d' spec'lator's drove.""Atter w'ile Mister Mose Davis from Cold Spring, Texas, buy us. He was buyin' up little chillen fo' he chillen. He bought me 'n' a gal 'n' dey buy a fambly from Georg'y. Dat was 'bout fo' year' fo' (before) d' fus' war. I was nineteen year ol' w'en d' burst 'r' freedom come in June 'n' I git tu'n (turn) loose." "I was wukin' in d' fiel' den. I uster wuk fo' a ol' lady, 73 year ol'. Dey uster hab niggers t' wait on d' ol' people w'en dey git disable'. I uster hafter wait on her all t'roo d' night. She was real sickly fo' t'ree year. D' ol' lady was like a mudder t' me. Dat was ol' Mistus Betsy. Den dey was Mandy Davis 'n' Mose Davis , d' marster 'n' mistus. On d' day dey bury po' Miz Betsy , atter d' fun'ral Mister Mose he come t' me 'n' say, 'Pack up all yo' clo's, you comin' home t' wuk in d' fiel'.' I wuk in d' cotton fiel'. I sho' did hate it w'en dat ol' lady die.""Little w'ile atter dat d' ol' marster he go off t' buy mo' niggers. He go eas'. He was on a boat 'n' git stove up 'n' he die 'n' neber come back no mo'. Us neber see him no mo' atter dat trip. W'en d' war bus' out he two sons fight in d' battles." "I uster hafter pick cotton. Sometime' I pick t'ree hunnerd poun' 'r' cotton 'n' tote it a mile t' d' cotton house. Some pick t'ree hunnerd t' eight hunnerd poun's 'r' cotton 'n' hafter tote d' bag fo' a whole mile' t' d' gin. Iffen dey didn' do dey wuk dey git whip 'til dey hab blister on 'em. Den iffen dey didn' do it a man on a hoss went down d' rows 'n' whip wid a paddle mek wid holes in it 'n' bus' d' blisters. I neber git whip cause I alays git my t'ree hunnerd poun'. Us hab t' go in d' fiel' so early, dey blow d' ho'n (horn) so early sometime dey don' hab time to' cook fo' (before) daylight. Us hafter tek us wittles (victuals) t' d' fiel' in a bucket iffen we didn' hab time t' cook 'em.""Marster had a log house. 'Twarn't very nice. 'Twarn't no frame house. Slaves dey lib in little houses. Dey quarters houses dey was strowed 'long in rows. D' nigger quarters was 's fur from d' big house 's dat house dere.""Dere warn't no meetin's 'r' no kin' 'lowed in d' quarters. D' boss man eben whip dem w'en dey hab prayer meetin'. Sometimes' us run off at night t' go t' dances 'n' camp meeting's but I was plumb growed up fo' I eber went t' chu'ch. I go t' Sunday school wid d' w'ite chillen t' tek care 'r' 'em. Dey couldn' learnt me t' sing no songs cause I didn' hab d' spirit. I hear dem sing, 'Let d' light shine.' Nobudy can't sing w'en dey ain' got d' spirit t' sing. I neber learnt no edication. Books don' mean nuthin' t' me 'cept so much black 'n' w'ite." "D' niggers 'roun' dere neber git 'nuf t' eat so dey kep' stealin' stuff all d' time. Dey gib 'em a peck 'r' meal t' las' a week 'n' two 'r' t'ree poun' 'r' bacon in chunk. Us neber seed no flour 'n' sugar, jus' co'n meal, meat 'n' 'taters. Iffen you raise' hawg d' uder niggers steal 'em. Dey had a big box under d' fireplace w'ere dey kep' all d' pig 'n' chickens w'at dey steal down in salt. Us hafter be keerful wid dat how us eat it cuase iffen some 'r' d' nigger fin' out 'bout it dey run 'n' tell d' boss so he not mek 'em wuk so hard. Iffen us fin' out w'at nigger do dat us neber hab nuthin' t' do wid him no mo'." "W'en I was wid d' w'ite lady one time I seed a man in d' fiel' run 'way. D' w'ite men git d' dogs out t' hunt d' nigger. Dey kotch him 'n' put him in d' front room. He so scare' he jump t'roo d' big winder 'n' break d' glass all up. He jump out w'ile us was eatin' breakfus'. Dey sho' did whip him w'en dey kotch him ag'in.""D' way dey whip d' niggers was t' strip dem off neckid, 'n' whip dem 'til dey mek blisters 'n' bus' d' blisters. Den dey tek salt 'n' red pepper 'n' put in d' woun's. Atterward dey wash 'n' grease dem 'n' put sumpthin' on de, t' keep dem from bleed t' def' (death). I hear some folks tell 'r' whippin' dem t' def' (death), but I neber see dem do it. I hear dat sometime' dey put d' nigger dawgs atter dem 'n' d' dawgs kotch dem 'n' eat dem up but I neber see nuthin' 'r' dat.""W'en d' boss man tol' us freedom was come he didn' like it but he gib all 'r' we'uns a bale 'r' cotton 'n' some co'n w'at us could do w'at we wanter wid. He ax us t' stay 'n' help wid d' crop but we-uns 's so glad t' git 'way nobody stay. I went t' town 'n' sol' mine. I git 'bout fi'ty dollars fo' it 'n' den I lent it t' a nigger man w'at neber pay me back t' dis day. Dat sho' d' way 'r' d' wicked cause here I's still libbin' 'n' he been dead since jus' a few year' atter freedom come." "Den I got no place t' go 'n' no co'n 'n' cotton so I go off t' cook fo' a w'ite man name' Dick Cole . He s'posen t' gimme five dollar' a mont' 'r' sixty dollar' a year but he neber pay me no money. He wanter gimme it in clo's 'n' eats cause he has a little sto' (store).""I's gittin so ol' I don' go t' town 'r' wuk out no mo'. Sometime at Crissmus I go up t' Jedge Murphy ' fo' d' big holiday dinner. I don' git no pension cause I 'spose t' hab too much lan'. It ain' good fo' no woman t' be 'lone like I is in dis house." BACK TO TEXAS "A" SLAVE NARRATIVE INDEX |