“Marse Billie Neal was our owner and Miss Peggy was his old ’oman.  Dey was jus’ as good to us as dey could be.  Deir two chillun was Marse Tom and Marse Mid.  De car’iage driver never had much to do but drive Marse Billy and Miss Peggy ’round and, course he had to see dat de hosses and car’iage was kept clean and shiny.  I don’t ’member if he tuk de chillun ’round.  Chillun didn’t stand de show dey does now.

“Oh, no Ma’am, I sho’ can’t tell nothin’ t’all ’bout how big dat old plantation was, but it was one whoppin’ big place.  Dere was too many slaves on dat plantation for me to count.  De overseer got ’em up by 4:00 o’clock and de mens had to be in de fields by sunrise.  De ’omans went out ’bout 8:00 o’clock.  Dey stopped wuk at sundown and by de time dey et and done de chores for de day it was 10:00 o’clock ’fore dey hit de bed.  De cabins was built in a circle and de overseer went de rounds evvy night to see if de slaves was in bed.

“Yes Ma’am, dey whupped de Niggers.  My Pappy and grandpa was de wust ones ‘bout gittin’ licked.  Evvy time Pappy runned away Marse Billy sicked dem hounds on his heels and dey was sho’ to ketch him and fetch him back.  Dey had to keep knives from Pappy or when dem dogs cotch him he would jus’ cut ’em up so dey would die.  When dey got him back to de house, dey would buckle him down over a barrel and larrup him wid a plaited whup.  ’Omans warn’t whupped much.  My grandpa York was so bad ‘bout runnin’ ’way Marse Billy made him wear long old horns.  One Sunday Marse Billy went by our church to see if all his Niggers was dar what was sposen to be dar.  And dere grandpa was a-sottin’ wid dem horns on his head.  Marse Billy told him he could take de horns off his head whilst he was in de meetin’ house.  At dat grandpa dropped dem horns, and lit a rag to de woods and it tuk de dogs days to find him.

“If one slave kilt another, Marse Billy made de overseer tie dat dead Nigger to de one what kilt him, and de killer had to drag de corpse ’round ’til he died too.  De murderers never lived long a-draggin’ dem daid ones ‘round.  Dat jus’ pyorely skeered ’em to death.  Dere was a guard house on de farm, whar de wust Niggers was kept, and while dey was in dat guard house, dey warn’t fed but once a day.  It warn’t nothin’ unusual for Marse Billy to sell slaves, but he never sold his best Niggers.  De ones he sold was allus dem he couldn’t git no wuk out of.

“Not a Nigger could read or write on Marse Billy’s plantation.  Dey was all too dumb to larn.  Dere was a shackly sort of church house on our plantation and on Sundays atter de Niggers had cleaned deyselfs up, if dey told Marse Billy dey wanted to go to church, he sent ’em on.  All I knows ‘bout baptizin’s is dey jus’ tuk ’em to de river and plunged ’em in.  Dey sung somepin’ ’bout:  ‘Gwine to de River for to be Baptized.’  Us had prayer meetin’s on Wednesday nights sometimes.

“Oh, Mussy!  Don’t ax me ’bout fun’rals.  I got de misery in my laigs and I feels too bad dis mornin’ to let myself even think ’bout fun’rals.  Back den when slave folks died dey jus’ put ’em in home-made pine coffins what dey throwed in a wagon and tuk ’em to de graveyard.  At dem buryin’s, dey used to sing: