Austin Grant
From:
Texas
AUSTIN GRANT came to Texas from Mississippi with his grandfather,
father, mother and brother. George Harper owned the family. He
raised cotton on Peach Creek, near Gonzales. Austin was hired out
by his master and after the war his father hired him out to the
Riley Ranch on Seco Creek, above D'hanis. He then bought a farm in
the slave settlement north of Hondo. He is 89 or 90 years old.
"I'm mixed up on my age, I'm 'fraid, for the Bible got burned up that
the master's wife had our ages in. She told me my age, which would make
me 89, but I believe I come nearer bein' 91, accordin' to the way my
mother figured it out.
"I belonged to George Harper, he was Judge Harper. The' was my father,
mother and two boys. He brought us from Mississippi, but I don' 'member
what part they come from. We settled down here at Gonzeles, on Peach
Creek, and he farmed one year there. Then he moved out here to Medina
County, right here on Hondo Creek. I dont 'member how many acres he had,
but he had a big farm. He had at least eight whole slave families. He
sold 'em when he wanted money.
"My mother's name was Mary Harper and my father's name was Ike Harper,
and they belonged to the Harpers, too. You know, after they was turned
loose they had to name themselves. My father named himself Grant and his
brother named himself Glover, and my grandfather was Filmore. They had
some kin' of law you had to git away from your boss' name so they named
themselves.
"Our house we had to live in, I tell you we had a tough affair, a picket
concern, you might say no house a-tall. The beds was one of your own
make; if you knowed how to make one, you had one, but of course the
chillen slept on the floor, patched up some way.
"We went barefooted in the summer and winter, too. You had to prepare
that for yourself, and if you didn' have head enough to prepare for
yourself, you went without. I don' see how they done as well as they
done, 'cause some winters was awful cold, but I always said the Lawd was
with 'em.
[Handwritten Note: 'used']
"We didn' have no little garden, we never had no time to work no garden.
When you could see to work, you was workin' for him. Ho! You didn' know
what money was. He never paid you anything, you never got to see none.
Some of the Germans would give the old ones a little piece of money, but
the chillen, pshaw! They never got to see nothin.'
"He was a pretty good boss. You didn' have to work Sunday and part of
Saturday and in the evenin', you had that. He fed us good. Sometimes, if
you was crowded, you had to work all day Saturday. But usually he give
you that, so you could wash and weave cloth or such. He had cullud women
there he kep' all the time to weave and spin. They kep' cloth made.
"On Saturday nights, we jes' knocked 'round the place. Christmas? I don'
know as I was ever home Christmas. My boss kep' me hired out. The slaves
never had no Christmas presents I know of. And big dinners, I never was
at nary one. They didn' give us nothin, I tell you, but a grubbin' hoe
and axe and the whip. They had co'n shuckin's in them days and co'n
shellin's, too. We would shuck so many days and so many days to shell it
up.
"We would shoot marbles when we was little. It was all the game the
niggers ever knowed, was shootin' marbles.
"After work at nights there wasn't much settin' 'round; you'd fall into
bed and go to sleep. On Saturday night they didn' git together, they
would jes' sing at their own houses. Oh, yes'm, I 'member 'em singin'
'Run, nigger, run,' but it's too far back for me to 'member those other
songs. They would raise up a song when they was pickin' cotton, but I
don' 'member much about those songs.
"My old boss, I'm boun' to give him praise, he treated his niggers
right. He made 'em work, though, and he whipped 'em, too. But he fed
good, too. We had rabbits and possums once in awhile. Hardly ever any
game, but you might git a deer sometimes.
"Let 'em ketch you with a gun or a piece of paper with writin' on it and
he'd whip you like everything. Some of the slaves, if they ever did git
a piece of paper, they would keep it and learn a few words. But they
didn' want you to know nothin', that's what, nothin' but work. You would
think they was goin' to kill you, he would whip you so if he caught you
with a piece of paper. You couldn' have nothin' but a pick and axe and
grubbin' hoe.
"We never got to play none. Our boss hired us out lots of times. I don'
know what he got for us. We farmed, cut wood, grubbed, anything. I
herded sheep and I picked cotton.
"We got up early, you betcha. You would be out there by time you could
see and you quit when it was dark. They tasked us. They would give us
200 or 300 pounds of cotton to bring in and you would git it, and if you
didn' git it, you better, or you would git it tomorrow, or your back
would git it. Or you'd git it from someone else, maybe steal it from
their sacks.
"My grandfather, he would tell us things, to keep the whip off our
backs. He would say, 'Chillen, work, work and work hard. You know how
you hate to be whipped, so work hard!' And of course we chillen tried,
but of course we would git careless sometimes.
"The master had a 'black snake'--some called it a 'bull whip,' and he
knew how to use it. He whipped, but I don' 'member now whether he
brought any blood on me, but he cut the blood outta the grown ones. He
didn' tie 'em, he always had a whippin' block or log to make 'em lay
down on. They called 500 licks a 'light breshin,' and right on your
naked back, too. They said your clothes wouldn' grow but your hide
would. From what I heered say, if you run away, then was when they give
you a whippin,' prob'bly 1500 or 2000 licks. They'd shore tie you down
then, 'cause you couldn' stan' it. Then you'd have to work on top of all
that, with your shirt stickin' to your back.
"The overseer woke us up. Sometimes he had a kin' of horn to blow, and
when you heered that horn, you'd better git up. He would give you a good
whippin' iffen he had to come and wake you up. He was the meanest one on
the place, worse'n the boss man.
"The boss man had a nice rock house, and the women didn' work at all.
"I never did see any slaves auctioned off, but I heered of it. My boss
he would take 'em there and sell 'em.
"They had a church this side of New Fountain and the boss man 'lowed us
to go on Sunday. If any of the slaves did join, they didn' baptize them,
as I know of.
"When one of the slaves would die, they would bury 'em on the land
there. Reg'lar little cemetery there. Oh, yes, they would have doctors
for 'em. If anybody died, they would tell some of the other slaves to
dig the grave and take 'em out there and bury 'em. They jes' put 'em in
a box, no preachin' or nothin.' But, of course, if it was Sunday the
slaves would follow out there and sing. No, if they didn' die on Sunday,
you couldn' go; you went to that field.
"If you wanted to go to any other plantation you had to git a pass to go
over there, and if you didn' and got caught, you got one of the worst
whippins'. If things happened and they wanted to tell 'em on other
plantations, they would slip out at night and tell 'em.
"We never heered much about the fightin' or how it was goin.' When the
war finally was over, our old boss called us all up and had us to stand
in abreast, and he stood on the gallery and he read the verdict to 'em,
and said, 'Now, you can jes' work on if you want to, and I'll treat you
jes' like I always did.' I guess when he said that they knew what he
meant. The' wasn't but one family left with 'im. They stayed about two
years. But the rest was just like birds, they jes' flew.
"I went with my father and he hired me out for two years, to a man named
Riley, over on the Seco. I did most everythin', worked the field and was
house rustler, too. But I had a good time there. After I left 'im, I
came to D'Hanis. I worked on a church house they was buildin'. Then I
went back to my father and worked for him a long time, freightin' cotton
to Eagle Pass. I used horses and mules and hauled cotton and flour and
whiskey and things like that.
"I met my wife down on Black Creek, and I freighted two years after we
was married. We got married so long ago, but in them days anything would
do. You see, these days they are so proud, but we was glad to have
anything. I had a black suit to be married in, and a pretty long shirt,
and I wore boots. She wore a white dress, but in them days they didn'
have black shoes. Yes'm, they had a dance, down here on Black Creek.
Danced half the night at her house and two men played the fiddle. Eat?
We had everythin' to eat, a barbecued calf and a hog, too, and all kinds
of cakes and pies. Drink? Why, the men had whiskey to drink and the
women drank coffee. We married about 7 or 8 in the evenin' at her house.
My wife's name was Sarah Ann Brackins.
"Did I see a ghost? Well, over yonder on the creek was a ghost. It was a
moonlight night and it passed right by me and it never had no head on it
a-tall. It almost breshed me. It kep' walkin' right by side of me. I
shore saw it and I run like a good fellow. Lots of 'em could see
wonnurful sights then and I heered lots of noises, but that's the only
ghost I ever seen.
"No, I never knowed nothing 'bout charms. I've seen 'em have a rabbit
heel or coon heel for good luck. I seen a woman one time that was
tricked, or what I'd call poisoned. A place on her let, it was jes' the
shape of these little old striped lizards. It was somethin' they called
'trickin it,' and a person that knowed to trick you would put it there
to make you suffer the balance of your days. It would go 'round your leg
clear to the hip and be between the skin and the flesh. They called it
the devil's work."
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