Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States | Page 2

at
Wartrace. A battle was in progress and a large cannon was fired above
us and we watched the huge ball sail through the air and saw the smoke
of the cannon pass over our heads. We poor children were almost
scared to death but our mother held us close to her and tried to comfort
us. The next morning, after, we were safely at home ... we were proud
we had seen that much of the great battle and our mother told us the
war was to give us freedom."
"Did your family rejoice when they were set free?" was the natural
question to ask Uncle George.
"I cannot say that they were happy, as it broke up a lot of real
friendships and scattered many families. Mother had a great many
pretty quilts and a lot of bedding. After the negroes were set free, Mars.
Arnold told us we could all go and make ourselves homes, so we
started out, each of the grown persons loaded with great bundles of
bedding, clothing and personal belongings. We walked all the way to
Wartrace to try to find a home and some way to make a living."
George W. Arnold remembers seeing many soldiers going to the pike
road on their way to Murfreesboro. "Long lines of tired men passed
through Guy's Gap on their way to Murfreesboro," said he. "Older
people said that they were sent out to pick up the dead from the battle
fields after the bloody battle of Stone's river that had lately been fought
at Murfreesboro. They took their comrades to bury them at the Union
Cemetery near the town of Murfreesboro."

"Wartrace was a very nice place to make our home. It was located on
the Nashville and Chattanooga and St. Louis railroad, just fifty-one
miles from Nashville not many miles from our old home. Mother found
work and we got along very well but as soon as we children were old
enough to work, she went back to her old home in Georgia where a few
years later she died. I believe she lived to be seventy-five or seventy six
years of age, but I never saw her after she went back to Georgia."
"My first work was done on a farm (there are many fine farms in
Tennessee) and although farm labor was not very profitable we were
always fed wherever we worked and got some wages. Then I got a job
on the railroad. Our car was side tracked at a place called Silver
Springs," said Uncle George, "and right at that place came trouble that
took the happiness out of my life forever." Here the story teller paused
to collect his thoughts and conquer the nervous twitching of his lips. "It
was like this: Three of us boys worked together. We were like three
brothers, always sharing our fortunes with each other. We should never
have done it, but we had made a habit of sending to Nashville after
each payday and having a keg of Holland rum sent in by freight. This
liquor was handed out among our friends and sometimes we drank too
much and were unfit for work for a day or two. Our boss was a big
strong Irishman, red haired and friendly. He always got drunk with us
and all would become sober enough to soon return to our tasks."
"The time I'm telling you about, we had all been invited to a candy
pulling in town and could hardly wait till time to go, as all the young
people of the valley would be there to pull candy, talk, play games and
eat the goodies served to us. The accursed keg of Holland rum had been
brought in that morning and my chum John Sims had been drinking too
much. About that time our Boss came up and said, 'John, it is time for
you to get the supper ready!' John was our cook and our meals were
served on the caboose where we lived wherever we were side tracked."
"All the time Johny was preparing the food he was drinking the rum.
When we went in he had many drinks inside of him and a quart bottle
filled to take to the candy pull. 'Hurry up boys and let's finish up and
go' he said impatiently. 'Don't take him' said the other boy, 'Dont you
see he is drunk?' So I put my arms about his shoulders and tried to tell
him he had better sleep a while before we started. The poor boy was a
breed. His mother was almost white and his father was a thoroughbred

Indian and the son had a most aggravating temper. He made me no
answer but running his hand into his pocket, he drew out his knife and