A neighbor named Martin
Hanks came over and told me not to allow the cotton to go to waste, said
he would lend me his plows, and advised me to get a colored man named
Edmond, who was his master's overseer in slave time, to manage this
crop for me. I hired five other negroes, paying them with things I had
in the house, for I had not a cent of money. The result was a fine crop of
cotton. Mr. Nation's daughter Lola, was then eleven years old, and
Charlien was three years younger. We lived six miles from a school, and
just at a time when the girls needed school most. I began to see what a
disastrous move we had made. I became very dispondant and sick at
heart. I was young and did not know then how to contend with
disappointments on every hand. At one time I was quite sick with chills
and fever. I had nothing in the house but meal, some fat bacon and sweet
potatoes. There was a poor old man that we took in for charity who
was with us, named Mr. Holt. I called him to my bedside and asked
him to go to the patch and dig a bushel of sweet potatoes and take them
to town and exchange them for a little tea, sugar, lemons and bread.
He failed in this and was returning when, he met a dear, sweet woman,
Mrs. Underwood, that I called my "Texas Mother." She called to Mr.
Holt, and asked him how I was. He told her I was sick and out of
anything to eat. She took the potatoes and sent the articles I wanted.
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