“Lordy, Miss!  It’s lak dis:  I is a old Nigger, and I done been here for many years, but dese last few years I sho’ has been a sick man, and now I can’t git things straight in my mind lak dey was den.  I knows us lived in log houses what had great big chimblies made out of sticks and mud.  Why, dem fireplaces was ’bout eight feet wide, and you could put a whole stick of cord wood on de fire.  Us slept on high-up old timey beds what had big posties and instead of springs, dey had stout cords wove ’cross to hold de mattress.  De last time I slept on one of dem sort of beds was when I was a little boy, sleepin’ wid my Ma.  Pa and Ma was both field hands.  Ma’s mammy was de onliest one of my grandmas I ever seed.  Her name was Ca’line and she lived wid Grandpa Abe on another plantation.  Ma’s sister, my aunt Ca’line was cook up at our Old Marster’s big house.

“Money?  Yessum!  Dey gimme a little money now and den for totin’ water to de field, sweepin’ de yards, and a million other things dey used to make me do.  De most dey ever gimme was 50 cents.  I never spent none of it, but jus’ turned it over to my Ma.  Chillun warn’t ’lowed to spend money den lak dey does now, ’cause dey had evvything dey needed anyhow.  Old Marster, he give us plenty somepin t’eat, such as it was.  Dere was lots of cornbread, a little meat now and den, collards, whip-poor-will peas and dem unknown peas what was most big as a dime, and black ’lasses—­dat was lallyho.

“Us cotch lots of ’possums, but mighty few of ’em us Niggers ever got a chance to eat, or rabbits neither.  Dey made Niggers go out and hunt ’em and de white folks et ’em.  Our mouths would water for some of dat ‘possum but it warn’t often dey let us have none.  I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no fishin’ bein’ done dem days.  Yessum, slaves had deir own gyardens, and dey better wuk ’em good if dey wanted any gyarden sass to eat.  Cookin’ was done in dem big open fireplaces, mostly in pots and thick iron skillets what had lids on ’em.

“Boys wore long blue striped shirts in summer and nothin’ else a t’all.  Dem shirts was made jus’ lak mother hubbards.  Us wore de same thing in winter only dem shirts was made new for winter.  By summer dey had done wore thin.  When de weather got too cold, Marster give us old coats, what grown folks had done most wore out, and us warn’t none too warm den wid de wind a-sailin’ under our little old shirt tails.  Our shoes was rough old brogans what was hard as rocks, and us had to put rags inside ’em to keep ’em from rubbin’ de skin off our foots.  Us didn’t know what socks and stockin’s was dem.

“Marse Earl Strickland owned us.  Miss Sarah was his old ’oman and dey was sho’ mighty good to deir slaves.  White folks was heap better folks den dan dey is now anyhow.  Now-a-days dey will knock you up right now, and won’t be long ’bout it.  I can’t git up no ricollections ’bout ’em havin’ no chillun a t’all.  Seems lak I know for sho’ dey didn’t have none.  Dey never had no fine house neither; jus’ a plain common house wid a chimbly at both ends.