CHARLIE DAVENPORT, at age 100, reminisced about his days as a slave:

Us Niggers didn’ know nothin’ ’bout what was gwine on in de outside worl’. All us knowed was dat a war was bein’ fit. Pussonally, I b’lieve in what Marse Jefferson Davis done. He done de only thing a gent’man could a-done. He tol’ Marse Abe Lincoln to ’tend to his own bus’ness an’ he’d ’tend to his’n. But Marse Lincoln was a fightin’ man an’ he come down here an’ tried to run other folks’ plantations. Dat made Marse Davis so all fired mad dat he spit hard ’twixt his teeth an’ say, “I’ll whip de socks off den dam Yankees.”

Dat’s how it all come ’bout.

My white folks los’ money, cattle, slaves, an’ cotton in de war, but dey was till better off dan mos’ folks.

Lak all de fool Niggers o’ dat time I was right smart bit by de freedom bug for awhile. It sounded pow’ful nice to be tol’:

“You don’t have to chop cotton no more. You can th’ow dat hoe down an’ go fishin’ whensoever de notion strikes you. An’ you can roam ’roun’ at night an’ court gals jus’ as late as you please. Aint no marster gwine a-say to you, ‘Charlie, you’s got to be back when de clock strikes nine.’”

I was fool ’nough to b’lieve all dat kin’ o’ stuff. But to tell de hones’ truf, mos’ o’ us didn’ know ourse’fs no better off. Freedom meant us could leave where us’d been born an’ bred, but it meant, too, dat us had to scratch for us ownse’fs. Dem what lef’ de old plantation seamed so all fired glad to git back dat I made up my min’ to stay put. I stayed right wid my white folks as long as I could.

My white folks talked plain to me. Dey say real sad-lak, “Charlie, you’s been a dependence, but now you can go if you is so desirous. But if you wants to stay wid us you can share-crop. Dey’s a house for you an’ wood to keep you warm an’ a mule to work. We aint got much cash, but dey’s de lan’ an’ you can count on havin’ plenty o’ vit’als. Do jus’ as you please.” When I looked at my marster an’ knowed he needed me, I pleased to stay. My marster never forced me to do nary thing ’bout it. Didn’ nobody make me work after de war, but dem Yankees sho’ made my daddy work. Dey put a pick in his han’ stid o’ a gun. Dey made ’im dig a big ditch in front o’ Vicksburg. He worked a heap harder for his Uncle Sam dan he’d ever done for de marster.

I hear’d tell ’bout some Nigger sojers a-plunderin’ some houses: Out at Pine Ridge dey kilt a white man named Rogillio. But de head Yankee sojers in Natchez tried ’em for somethin’ or nother an’ hung ’em on a tree out near de Charity Horspital. Dey strung up de ones dat went to Mr. Sargent’s door one night an’ shot him down, too. All dat hangin’ seemed to squelch a heap o’ lousy goin’s-on.

Lawd! Lawd! I knows ’bout de Kloo Kluxes. I knows a-plenty. Dey was sho’ ’nough devils a-walkin’ de earth a-seekin’ what dey could devour. Dey larruped de hide of’n de uppity Niggers an’ driv de white trash back where dey b’longed.

[…]

My granny tol’ me ’bout a slave uprisin’ what took place when I was a little boy. None o’ de marster’s Niggers ’ud have nothin’ to do wid it. A Nigger tried to git ’em to kill dey white folks an’ take dey lan’. But what us want to kill old Marster an’ take do lan’ when dey was de bes’ frien’s us had? Dey caught de Nigger an’ hung ’im to a limb.

[…]

De young Niggers is headed straight for hell. All dey think ’bout is drinkin’ hard likker, goin’ to dance halls, an’ a-ridin’ in a old rattle trap car. It beats all how dey brags an’ wastes things. Dey aint one whit happier dan folks was in my dey. I was as proud to git a apple as dey is to git a pint o’ likker. Course, schools he’p some, but looks lak all mos’ o’ de young’n’s is studyin’ ’bout is how to git out o’ hones’ labor.

I’se seen a heap o’ fools what thinks ’cause they is wise in books, they is wise in all things.

Mos’ all my white folks is gone, now. Marse Randolph Shields is a doctor ’way off in China. I wish I could git word to ’im, ’cause I know he’d look after me if he knowed I was on charity. I prays de Lawd to see ’em all when I die.

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