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Bastrop County, TX |
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Sarah Hatley, a mulatress, born about
1860, is a native of Texas. Her mother was brought from Missouri by Preston Philips and sold
to Katney A. Hart of Bastrop. Born in Bastrop, Sarah spent several
years after the war with her mother, living at San Marcos, Florence and Georgetown. At Georgetown she married
Monroe Hatley and went to live on a farm near Florence, where four of her children
were born. She and her husband followed her mother to Brackettville later, where two
more children were born. Here she divorced Hatley over forty years ago. She has earned
her living up to now by washing, ironing and cooking. "My mother was
born in Rockport, Missouri. Preston Philips was her first masta.
He sold her to Katney
A. Hart at Bastrop. He was her last masta. Her
maiden name was Nancy Knox an' my father's
name was Watkins (a white man). My mother married again and her husband's name was Allen Jennin's.
They married at San Marcos after she was freed in Bastrop. I can
remember when we moved to San Marcos. "I was born at
Bastrop an' I was goin' on five yeahs
old 'Mancipation Day. I guess I was born about 1860, you
know my mother couldn't read or write an' we didn't have no record. My stepfather died at a place called
Florence, Texas, an' we left dere an' came to Georgetown. We was mostly raised in Georgetown. I am de only one of de chillun livin'. Dey are all dead but me. Dere was fo' of us, three girls an' one boy. Frances Fay, Oscar an' Liza. My mother came out here wid her las' husban', Bob
Lemons. She's been dead twenty yeahs dis
gone May. She come out here first, an' it's been fifty some odd yeahs since I moved out here to Brackettville.
I've seen some hard times, too, I'm here to tell you. "I lived in
Florence, Texas, a long time after I married. I had fo'
chillun when I moved here. I been livin'
in dis house right here thuty-seben yeahs. Me an' my husban',
Monroe Hatley, come out heah
to live, but somehow we couldn't get along an' he went back to his people. I have been divo'ced
ovah fo'ty yeahs; ain't nevah married again. I had six chillun in all. My nex'
oldes' boy is gone. He lef'
home an' has been gone ovah twenty yeahs. I ain't got but two livin'
now as I knows of. One of my girls died seben
months ago. She belonged to de Tennessee (Insurance Co.) an'
she sho' was buried nice. My mother used to tell me about de times she'd see:
sometimes she'd see good times an' sometimes hard times. She said she nevah had to do no work in de fields; she always stayed
in de house an' 'tended
to de chillun. She said dey
ust to tie 'em up an'
whip 'em, but she nevah
did get a whippin'. Ma said on Sunday dey always had somethin' extry fo' 'em; dat
is, somethin' extry fo' deir dinner. Dey treated dem good; better'n lots of 'em treated deir slaves. She was de youngest one in de family. She
come off an' lef' 'em in
Missouri an' come to Texas. Of co'se, I was little when de slaves was
freed an' I stayed wid my mother. I was a good-sized girl when I went to work. My mother
hired me out to Cap'n Price in Georgetown. He was a cap'n on a ship. He went crazy when I was workin' fo' 'im. Dey had 'im up in a cage-like, an' he got so bad dey
carried 'im to Austin. He asked a maid one mornin' if he could take a bath an' she said yes. So he turned de hot
water in de tub and jumped in it an' scalded himself to death. "My mother lef' me in Georgetown wid
another colored lady. I don't remember her name. I worked aroun' fo' dat
one an' dis one till I married. After I married, we went to Florence, Texas, to live. My
husband worked on a farm. We farmed all de time --- farmed fo' ourselves. His mother's young masta gave us de land to work an' we had ever'thing. We had plenty. His name was Bart Gray. "When we got
married, we didn't have no kind of celebration. We
married one week an' went to Florence de nex'
week. Preacher King married us. He was a cullud
preacher. We jes' had a little weddin', no dance. I was all
in blue at de weddin'. I guess I was about twenty, twenty-one, or maybe twenty-two, somethin' dat way. De blue
dress was a coat suit. An' I had on black slippers. Oh, I
quit 'im several times befo'
we married, but he kep' on after me an
I fin'ly married 'im. "I nevah had no schoolin'. Well, I
did go to school about two or three weeks, but I had to quit an' help my mother take care of de
other chillun. I know my a, b, c's all right
enough, but I didn't learn to read an' write. "My stepdaddy ust to take de co'n an' wheat
to town an' have it ground on de halvers. We ust to go to de Berry's Mill on de Gable (San Gabriel) River. We lived
between two rivers, de North an' de South Gable. When it got
up, it sho' was bad. We raised co'n
an' wheat all de time den. My mother ust to raise lots of chickens an' turkeys. Dey was lotsa game, too. I remember my
stepfather ust to go out an' kill deer an' wild
turkey. I believe de people had more deer up dat
way dan dey do down heah. We ust to kill rabbits
all de time, oh my! We would go doghuntin' after rabbits. Dey
was cottontails. I sho' love rabbits. If we got 'em
in a log or hole, we'd take a stick an' twist 'em
out. Dey sho' is nice. We
ust to kill lotsa ducks an' greese, 'cause
we lived right on de river. Dey was lotsa coons an' 'possums, an' my mother could sho'
fix 'em good. Fish! We lived on de river an' we
would catch great big old cats, bass an' shad. We'd
catch lots of 'em. My stepfather ust to catch 'em an' take 'em to town
an' sell 'em. "All I ust to see 'em drive was ox
wagons an' hosses. Sometimes, day would have one yoke o' oxen an' sometimes two yoke. I ust to see 'em plow a single
oxen in de co'n. Dey have 'em hitched
like a hoss. Some of de wagons would have two
wheels an' some of 'em fo' wheels. Dem oxen was mostly all dey had to
use. Dey would haul co'n
an' wheat in sacks, sacks like dese gunny sacks. "I nevah seen no stoves till I got up a big young lady. Dey ust to cook in de fireplace
an' cook on a skillet an' oven, what day call
de Dutch oven. Dey would cook deir
cakes an' pies in pans an' put 'em
in dese ovens. Dat was all I evah
seen. Dey was great, big ovens an' skillets, yes ma'am, big enough to
cook a turkey. If dey didn't cook in de fireplace, dey had a fire outdoors. "I ust to pick my hun'erd an'
fifty pounds of cotton a day. Dat would be my dollar-anta-half. We was gettin' a dollar an' a half
a hun'ered. Dat was befo' an' after I married. I quit workin'
in town an' went to de cotton patch 'cause we could
make more money. I ain't
had my han' on a ball (boll) o' cotton since I been
in Brackett. I loved to pick cotton. Sometimes I went wid my mother's family an' sometimes wid
other cullud girls. "When I was
young, we ust to go to the country to quiltin's an' suppers. Dey
would get together an' have quiltin's
an' fix suppers fo' de party at night. De men-folks
would go to 'em
too when dey had a party. De men would always come
about dark an' eat supper an' set aroun' an'
laugh an' talk. I nevah did dance in my life till
after I come here to Brackett. "I cain't remember much about de war 'cause
I was too little. Jes' heard 'em
tell about it. But, my stepdaddy,
Allen Jennin's, had a blue overcoat an' Ma tol' me dat was de kind of coats de soldiers ust
to wear. But I nevah did see a soldier till I come
to Brackett. "I remember de
hoop skirts de women ust to wear when I was little.
When dey went to set down, dey had to
raise 'em up behind 'cause
if dey didn't, dey would
hop up in front. I was jes' laughin' an' tellin'
my daughter las' night about dese hoop skirts. You don't nevah
see 'em
no mo'. "When I was a
child, we ust to go to a neighbor lady's to get
milk, an' you know, we had to go right by a graveyard. One time, my
sister grabbed me an' said, 'Law, sister, look at dat woman yonder all wrapped up in a sheet!' I looked but I couldn't see
it. Den ma went down dere an' my
sister said, 'Yonder it is!' But Ma said, 'Hush, dey
ain't no ghos'es.' But my sister could see 'em
an' we couldn't. She got to where she wouldn't go t'rough
dat graveyard atall. I nevah could see 'em, but dem dat is born wid veils ovah deir faces can see 'em. I know
my sister could see ghos'es an' I tell you she
could scare me to death. "Many a time I
have chopped loads of wood, me an' my brother, an' hauled it to town an' sold it. We was
young then. I could chop wood like a boy an' drive hosses
better'n some boys. We would get two, three and fo' dollars fo' dat wood. We ust to help our
mother dat way. When we lived in Georgetown, we ust to pick up bottles an' sell 'em.
It would be accordin' to de number of bottles we would get, what dey
paid us fo' 'em. Whiskey
bottles, you would get one dollar a dozen an'
medicine bottles, two-bits a dozen an' so on. But you cain't sell nothin'
like dat here. I ain't nevah had no work here but washin'
an' ironin' an' cookin'.
I've 'tended to chillun
some, but dat's too hard on you. Well, I ain't no spring chicken no mo'.
If I wash out fo' or five sheets, I'm played out. I wish my pension
check would increase 'cause I jes'
ain't able to work like I ust to. I had lotsa good times an' I tell you, I
had lotsa hard times. What do I calls good times? Why, set down an' have a good
dinner. No drinkin' --- maybe a bottle o' beer wid your dinner, but no reg'lar
drinkin'. We ust to go to
dances, but I nevah go much now. I go down to my niece's an' watch 'em sometimes an' maybe eat supper. But, I don't think I could cook suppers an' sell 'em; I'd give 'em all
away." |
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