Slave Narrative for the CSET

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way an’ comin’ lak a harrikin. I hop on a mule an’ go jes’ as fas’ as I can make him trabel, but befo’ I git back dey done retch de plantation, smashin’ things comin’ an’ gwine.

“Dey broke in de smoke house an’ tuk all de hams an’ yuther rations dey fin’ what dey want an’ burn up de res’. Den dey ramshack de big house lookin’ fo’ money an’ jewelry an’ raise Cain wid de wimmin folks ‘caze dey didn’t fin’ what dey wanted. Den dey leave dere ole hosses an’ mules an’ take de bes’ we got. Atter dey don dat, dey burn de smoke house, de barns, de cribs an’ some yuther prop’ty. Den dey skedaddle some place else.

“I warn’t up dar but I heern tell dey burn up piles an’ piles of cotton an’ lots of steamboats at Montgomery an’ lef’ de ole town jes’ ’bout ruint’. Twarn’t long atter dat dey tell us we’se free. But lawdy, Cap’n, we ain’t nebber been what I calls free. ‘Cose ole marster didn’ own us no mo’, an’ all de folks soon scatter all ober, but iffen dey all lak me day still hafter wuk jes’ as hard, an some times hab less dan we useter hab when we stay on Marster John’s plantation. “Well, Cap’n, dat’s ’bout all I know. I feel dat misery comin’on me now. Will you please, suh, gimme a lif’ back in de house. I wisht dat white gemman doctor come on iffen he comin’.”

Source: The American Slave, Vol. 6: 51-54.

Emma Crockett
Livingston, Alabama

“Miss, I’m ’bout sebenty-nine or eighty year old,” she told me, “and I belonged to Marse Bill Hawkins end Miss Betty. I lived on deir plantation right over yander. My mammy was called Cassie Hawkins and my pappy was Alfred Jolly. I was Emma Jolly ‘fore I married Old Henry Crockett. Us had five chillun and dey’s two of ‘em livin’ in Bummingham, Fannie and Mary.

“Sometimes I kain’t git my min’ together so as I kin tell nothin’. I fell out t’other day and had a misery in my head ever since. I wish I could read, but I wa’n't never l’arnt nothin’ ‘ceptin’ atter Surrender Miss Sallie Cotes she showed us how to read printin’; but I kain’t read no writin. I kain’t tell you so much ’bout de wah’ ca’se my recollection ain’t no ‘count dese days. All I knowed, ’twas bad times and folks got whupped, but I kain’t say who was to blame; some was good and some was bad. I seed de patterollers, and atter Surrender de Ku Kluxes dey come din, but didn’t never bother me. See, I wan’t so old and I minded ev’ybody, and didn’t vex ‘em none. Us didn’t go to church none, but I goes now to de New Prophet Church and my favorite

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