Mississippi Federal Writers Slave Autobiographies

[James Cornelius Magnolia, Mississippi]

James Cornelius lives in Magnolia in the northwestern part of the town, in the Negro settlement.  He draws a Confederate pension of four dollars per month.  He relates events of his life readily.

“I does not know de year I was borned but dey said I was 15 years old when de War broke out an’ dey tell me I’se past 90 now.  Dey call me James Cornelius an’ all de white folks says I’se a good ’spectable darkey.

“I was borned in Franklin, Loos’anna.  My mammy was named Chlo an’ dey said my pappy was named Henry.  Dey b’longed to Mr. Alex Johnson an’ whil’st I was a baby my mammy, my brudder Henry, an’ me was sol’ to Marse Sam Murry Sandell an’ we has brung to Magnolia to live an’ I niver remember seein’ my pappy ag’in.

“Marse Murry didn’ have many slaves.  His place was right whar young Mister Lampton Reid is buildin’ his fine house jes east of de town.  My mammy had to work in da house an’ in de fiel’ wid all de other niggers an’ I played in de yard wid de little chulluns, bofe white an’ black.  Sometimes we played ‘tossin’ de ball’ an’ sometimes we played ‘rap-jacket’ an’ sometimes ‘ketcher.’  An’ when it rained we had to go in de house an’ Old Mistess made us behave.

“I was taught how to work ‘round de house, how to sweep an’ draw water frum de well an’ how to kin’le fires an’ keep de wood box filled wid wood, but I was crazy to larn how to plow an’ when I could I would slip off an’ get a old black man to let me walk by his side an’ hold de lines an’ I thought I was big ’nouf to plow.

“Marse Murry didn’ have no overseer.  He made de slaves work, an’ he was good an’ kind to ’em, but when dey didn’ do right he would whip ’em, but he didn’ beat ’em.  He niver stripped ’em to whip ’em.  Yes ma’m, he whipped me but I needed it.  One day I tol’ him I was not goin’ to do whut he tol’ me to do—­feed de mule—­but when he got through wid me I wanted to feed dat mule.

“I come to live wid Marse Murry ’fo dar was a town here.  Dar was only fo’ houses in dis place when I was a boy.  I seed de fust train dat come to dis here town an’ it made so much noise dat I run frum it.  Dat smoke puffed out’n de top an’ de bell was ringin’ an’ all de racket it did make made me skeered.

“I heered dem talkin’ ‘bout de war but I didn’ know whut dey meant an’ one day Marse Murry said he had jined de Quitman Guards an’ was goin’ to de war an’ I had to go wid him.  Old Missus cried an’ my mammy cried but I thought it would be fun.  He tuk me ‘long an’ I waited on him.  I kept his boots shinin’ so yer could see yer face in ’em.  I brung him water an’ fed an’ cur’ied his hoss an’ put his saddle on de hoss fer him.  Old Missus tol’ me to be good to him an’ I was.

“One day I was standin’ by de hoss an’ a ball kilt[FN:  killed] de hoss an’ he fell over dead an’ den I cried like it mout[FN:  might] be my brudder.  I went way up in Tennessee an’ den I was at Port Hudson.  I seed men fall dawn an’ die; dey was kilt like pigs.  Marse Murry was shot an’ I stayed wid him ’til dey could git him home.  Dey lef’ me behin’ an’ Col.  Stockdale an’ Mr. Sam Matthews brung me home.