n told me dat I should find de church. I
could hardly wait for de next service so I could find it, and when I
was in de water getting my baptisement, dat same voice spoke and said,
"Now you have accepted don't turn back 'cause I will be wid you
always!" O you don't know nothing 'bout dat kind of religion!

I 'member one night shortly after I jined de church I was laying in
bed and dere was a vine tied 'round my waist and dat vine extended
into de elements. O my God! I can see it now! I looked up dat vine
and away in de elements I could see my Divine Master and he spoke to
me and said, "When you get in trouble shake dis vine; I'm your Master
and I will hear your cry."

I knowed old Jeff Davis good. Why I was jest as close to him as I am
to dat table. I've talked wid him too. I reckon I _do_ know dat
scoundrel! Why, he didn't want de niggers to be free! He was known as
a mean old rascal all over de South.

Abraham Lincoln? Now you is talking 'bout de niggers friend! Why dat
was de best man God ever let tramp de earth! Everybody was mighty sad
when poor old Abraham was 'sassinated, 'cause he did a mighty good
deed for de colored race before he left dis world.

I wasn't here long during slavery, but I saw enough of it to know it
was mighty hard going for most of de niggers den, and young folks
wouldn't stand for dat kind of treatment now. I know most of the young
folks would be killed, but they jest wouldn't stand for it. I would
hate to have to go through wid my little share of it again.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves

OCTAVIA GEORGE
Age 85 yrs.
Oklahoma City, Okla.

I was born in Mansieur, Louisiana, 1852, Avoir Parish. I am the
daughter of Alfred and Clementine Joseph. I don't know much about my
grandparents other than my mother told me my grandfather's name was
Fransuai, and was one time a king in Africa.

Most of the slaves lived in log cabins, and the beds were home-made.
The mattresses were made out of moss gathered from trees, and we used
to have lots of fun gathering that moss to make those mattresses.

My job was taking care of the white children up at the Big House (that
is what they called the house where our master lived), and I also had
to feed the little Negro children. I remember quite well how those
poor little children used to have to eat. They were fed in boxes and
troughs, under the house. They were fed corn meal mush and beans. When
this was poured into their box they would ga