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Texas Slave Narrative
Jim Barclay
Reclining on a clean but somewhat rickety cot in the 'parlor' of his plank farm house near Hillister, Jim Barclay
appears even more infirm than when he arises. Since last June he has seldom been able to leave his bed except for a short time in the early morning for his energy is soon exhausted. Yet he arose with alacrity when the prospect of an automobile ride in to Hillister was presented. Born in 1855 his early
boyhood was spent as the slave of Jacob Pye Busbee
on the Sabine River and in Woodville. The remnants of a jovial and active youth are apparent in his mannerisms and speech, and he still enjoys a good laugh. Like his wife, Delia
, he evidences a deep pride in his uninterrupted 51 years of married life, and he positively glows and chuckles when she claims, "Us ain' eben neber fight." "I's bo'n right yere in five mile' 'r' Woodville. My ol' was name' Jacob Pye Busbee
. My daddy name was Robert Burgler
mammy name 's Harriett
." "My marster was allus good t' he slaves. I's jes' a smal jes' ten year' ol' w'en freedom come. I didn' do no big wuk, hafter do li'l t'ings 'roun' d' house. D' marster he hab 'bou Some was out on d' plantation 'n' some was in Woodville." "Tom
Swearengen he was d' oberseer. He whip me 'n' anuder boy once. I let d' oxen git in d' oats. Dey plant a fiel' 'r' co'n 'n' a fiel' 'r' cotton. 'n' den in d' place 'tween dem dey plant in oats. Dey tell me look straight 'n' not 'low dem oxen git in d' oats. I git playin' 'roun' watchin' fiel' mouse 'n' t'ings
like dey allus runnin' 'roun' d' fiel' 'n' I fergit all 'bout dem oxen. Nex' t'ing I knowed dey done et up ha'f d' fiel' 'n' tromp down d' uder ha'f wid dey big feetses. Den I git whip fo' neglec' my bus'ness. D' oberseer gimme one cut fo' it." "D' ol' marster allus gib us
hol'days w'en dey come 'roun'. Dey was us play days. I don' 'member much 'bout Crissmus. Us hab Sunday off eb'ry time. Marster he 'low us t' knock off haffer day on Sattiday too." "Us culled folks didn' hab no chu'ch in slav'ry time t' go t' on Sunday. D' w'ite folks dey
hab chu'ch. Parson Martin
he uster come 'roun' 'n' preach t' dem but not t' d' culled folks. Our w'ite folks hab a pleasant time. D' ol' marster war 'n' hardly eber dere. He uster go visit 'n' run 'roun' right smart. He allus hab plenty t' eat 'n' gib us plenty t' eat. D' boss neber was rough t' he niggers 'n' d' oberseers was purty
good too. Dey was Tom Swearengen
'n' Felix Horn,
'n' Jim Williams
. Dey stay dere all d' time." "D' ol' mistus she sho' was a good woman. D' marster's house was a big double log house. D' slave houses was one room log house buil' down in d' quarters. D' beds was buil' in d' side 'r' d' house, jes' a sorter scaffol' frame fo' t' put d'
matres' (mattress) on. Dey uster hab cotton matres'. Dey hab bench' fo' t' sit on 'n' a ho-mek table 'n' chair. D' li'l chillen dey slep' on dey pallet on d' flo' (floor)." "I 'member d' ol' lady 'mommer she die back in dem day. Dey mek one 'r' d' slaves dig a grabe
(grave). 'Nuder slave he was d' carpenter on d' plantation 'n' he mek d' coffin. He mek all d' coffin w'en anybudy die. It was jes' a common wood coffin nail' togeder. Eb'rybudy quit wuk durin' d' fune'l. Dey uster be a good ol' w'ite man name' Honor Rose
. He uster read outn' d' Bible 'n' pray w'en dey hab a fune'l. Atter freedom he tu'n t' preachin'." "D' culled folks hab dey own grabe yard. Sometime' d' boss wouldn' 'low dem t' bury in dey same grabe yard long. Dey jes' plow ober d' ol' yard 'n' start a new one.
Sometime' dey sol' d' lan' t' uder folks 'n' den us hab t' fin' a new place too. W'en a culled pusson die, dey hab de fune'l under a big shade tree in d' grabe yard w'er dey bury dem." "One time Tom Swearengen
tol' me, he say, "Boy, hug dat tree." He wanter mek me hug dat tree 'n' den he whip me, but I run 'way from him 'n' run t' misus. She ain' 'low dem whip me. She say, 'Don' you whip dat boy. He jes' been runnin' 'roun' yere 'n' dem li'l legs dey ain' know w'at dey doin'.' 'n' she wouldn' let him
whip me." Dey uster sen' a boy wid me t' d' house eb'ry ebenin' t' mek d' fire fo' d' night. Atter us mek d' fire us see two 'r' t'ree (three) shadders on d' wall. Us t'ink dey was hants 'n' us run 'way from dere in a hurry. I dunno yit w'at dey was." "I
boun' t' say us who' hab good w'ite folks. Dey mek prep'rations fo' t' bring up d' chillen, w'ite 'n' black. Chillen ain' brung up like dat now. Den dey uster hab t' min'." "D' young marster hab two brudders. D' one name Busbee
he go'd (went) t' d' war. D' uders dey stay t' home. I see few 'r' d' sojers. Dey was jes' trabblin' 'roun'. I seed some Yankee sojers but dey ain' come 'roun' 'til two 'r' t'ree week' atter 'mancipation." "W'en freedom come d' marster he say d' niggers kin stay on d'
place 'r' go off t' deyse'f. He was a good ol' man. He son go off t' d' war. I beleabe he tuk a slave 'long t' look atter him 'n' help. W'en he come back eb'rybudy glad t' see him. I done hear d' cannons shootin' some time. Dey tol' me dem cannons was shootin' in Alexandria." "Dey
say w'en dey tu'n us free dey wanter sen' d' niggers all back t' Africy but dey wouldn' none go." "I 'member some 'r' d' few t'ings us uster sing 'n' say in slav'ry time. One t'ing dey uster say, go; 'Went t' d' gyarden t' water my lily 'n'
see a critical a-settin' under a pleasant bush.' Dat mean, 'I went t' d' gyarden 'n' seed a rabbit (dat d' critical) a-settin' under a pleasant bush (dat a cabbage plant)." "Dey uster sing dis too; 'I'd been marry seben year ago,
Iffen it hadn' been fo' ol'Cotton Eye Joe- He 'sturbed d' bus'ness."
Den
dey uster sing one dat d' culled folks mek deyse'fs 'bout dat Christ he done hung on d' cross fo' 160 minnits fo' our sins, but I don' 'zactly 'member how it went."
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