de babies' necks when dey teethin', to make dem have easy time. She used a dry frog or piece nutmeg, too.

"Mammy allus tell me to keep from bein' cunjure, I sing:

"'Keep 'way from me, hoodoo and witch,
Lend my path from de porehouse gate;
I pines for golden harps and sich,
Lawd, I'll jes' set down and wait.
Old Satan am a liar and cunjurer, too—
If you don't watch out, he'll cunjure you.'

"Dem cunjuremen sho' bad. Dey make you have pneumony and boils and bad luck. I carries me a jack all de time. It em de charm wrop in red flannel. Don't know what am in it. A bossman, he fix it for me.

"I sho' can find water for de well. I got a li'l tree limb what am like a V. I driv de nail in de end of each branch and in de crotch. I takes hold of each branch and iffen I walks over water in de ground, dat limb gwine turn over in my hand till it points to de ground. Iffen money am buried, you can find it de same way.

"Iffen you fills a shoe with salt and burns it, dat call luck to you. I wears a dime on a string round de neck and one round de ankle. Dat to keep any conjureman from sottin' de trick on ma. Dat dime be bright iffen my friends am true. It sho' gwine git dark iffen dey does me wrong.

"For to make a jack dat am sho' good, git snakeroot and sassafras and a li'l lodestone and brimstone and asafoetida and resin and bluestone and gum arabic and a pod or two red pepper. Put dis in de red flannel bag, at midnight on de dark of de moon, and it sho' do de work.

"I knowed a ghost house, I sho' did. Everybody knowed it, a red brick house in Waco, on Thirteenth and Washington St. Dey calls it de Bell house. It sho' a fine, big house, but folks couldn't use it. De white folks what owns it, dey gits one nigger and 'nother to stay round and look after things. De white folks wants me to stay dere. I goes. Every Friday night dere am a rustlin' sound, like murmur of treetops, all through dat house. De shutters rattles—only dere ain't no shutters on dem windows. Jes' plain as anything, I hears a chair, rockin', rockin'. Footsteps, soft as de breath, you could hear dem plain. But I stays and hunts and can't find nobody nor nothin' none of dem Friday nights.

"Den come de Friday night on de las' quarter de moon. Long 'bout midnight, something lift me out de cot. I heared a li'l child sobbin', and dat rocker git started, and de shutters dey rattle softlike, and dat rustlin', mournin' sound all through dat house. I takes de lantern and out in de hall I goes. Right by de foot de stairs I seed a woman, big as life, but she was thin and I seed right through her. She jes' walk on down dat hall and pay me no mind. She make de sound like de beatin' of wings. I jes' froze. I couldn't move.

"Dat woman jes' melted out de window at de end of de hall, and I left dat place!

Anderson and Minerva Edwards

"My father was Sandy Flannigan and he had run off from his first master in Maryland, on the east shore, and come to Texas, and here a slave buyer picked him up and sold chances on him. If they could find his Maryland master he'd have to go back to him and if they couldn't the chances was good. Wash Edwards in Panola County bought the chance on him, but he run off from him, too, and come to Major Flannigan's in Rusk County. Fin'ly Major Flannigan had to pay a good lot to get clear title to him.

"My mammy was named Minerva and her master was Major Gaud, and I was born there on his plantation in 1866. You can ask that tax man at Marshall 'bout my age, 'cause he's fix my 'xemption papers since I'm sixty. I had seven brothers and two sisters. There was Frank, Joe, Sandy and Gene, Preston and William and Sarah and Delilah, and they all lived to be old folks and the younges' jus' died last year. Folks was more healthy when I growed up and I'm 93 now and ain't dead; fact is, I feels right pert mos' the time.

"My missy named Mary and she and Massa Matt lived in a hewed log house what am still standin' out there near Henderson. Our quarters was 'cross the road and set all in a row. Massa own three fam'lies of slaves and lots of hosses and sheep and cows and my father herded for him till he was freed. The government run a big tan yard there on Major Gaud's place and one my uncles was shoemaker. Jus' 'bout time of war, I was piddlin' 'round the tannery and a government man say to me, 'Boy, I'll give you $1,000 for a drink of water,' and he did, but it was 'federate money that got kilt, so it done me no good.

"Mammy was a weaver and made all the clothes and massa give us plenty to eat; fact, he treated us kind-a like he own boys. Course he whipped us when we had to have it, but not like I seed darkies whipped on other place. The other niggers called us Major Gaud's free niggers and we could hear 'em moanin' and cryin' round 'bout, when they was puttin' it on 'em.

"I worked in the field from one year end to t'other and when we come in at dusk we had to eat and be in bed by nine. Massa give us mos' anything he had to eat, 'cept biscuits. That ash cake wasn't sich bad eatin' and it was cooked by puttin' cornmeal batter in shucks and bakin' in the ashes.

"We didn't work in the field Sunday but they have so much stock to tend it kep' us busy. Missy was 'ligious and allus took us to church when she could. When we prayed by ourse'ves we daren't let the white folks know it and we turned a wash pot down to the ground to cotch the voice. We prayed a lot to be free and the Lord done heered us. We didn't have no song books and the Lord done give us our songs and when we sing them at night it jus' whispering to nobody hear us. One went like this:

"'My knee bones am aching,
My body's rackin' with pain,
I 'lieve I'm a chile of God,
And this ain't my home,
'Cause Heaven's my aim.'

"Massa Gaud give big corn shuckin's and cotton pickin's and the women cook up big dinners and massa give us some whiskey, and lots of times we shucked all night. On Saturday nights we'd sing and dance and we made our own instruments, which was gourd fiddles and quill flutes. Gen'rally Christmas was like any other day, but I got Santa Claus twict in slavery, 'cause massa give me a sack of molasses candy once and some biscuits once and that was a whole lot to me then.

"The Vinsons and Frys what lived next to massa sold slaves and I seed 'em sold and chained together and druv off in herds by a white man on a hoss. They'd sell babies 'way from the mammy and the Lord never did 'tend sich as that.

"I 'lieve in that hant business yet. I seed one when I was a boy, right after mammy die. I woke up and seed