“Lordy, Miss!  How come you axes ’bout colored folks’es weddin’s?  I was a-courtin’ a little 14-year old gal named Lovie Williams, but her Mammy runned me off and said she warn’t gwine to let Lovie git married up wid nobody ’til she got big enough.  I jus’ bought dem licenses and watched for my chanct and den I stole dat gal right from under her Mammy’s eyes.  My Mammy knowed all ’bout it and holped us git away.  Us didn’t have no time for no weddin’.  De best us could do was jus’ to git ourselfs married up.  Lovie’s Mammy raised de Old Ned, but us didn’t keer den, ‘cause it was too late for her to do nothin’ to part us.  Lovie was one of the bestest gals what ever lived.  Us raised 12 chillun and I never had one speck of trouble wid her.  Lovie’s done been daid 15 years now.”

His voice trembled as he talked about his first wife, and Lula almost stopped her work to listen.  This kind of talk did not please her and her expression grew stern.  “You done talked a-plenty,” she told him.  “You ain’t strong ’nough to do no more talkin’,” but Jasper was not willing to be silenced.  “I reckon I knows when I’se tired.  I ain’t gwine to hush ’til I gits good and ready,” was his protest.  “Yes Missy,” he continued.  “All our chillun is done daid now ’cept four and dey is ’way off up North.  Ain’t nobody left here ’cept me and Lula.  Lula is pow’ful good to me.  I done got too old to wuk, and can’t do nothin’ nohow wid dis old foot so bad off.  I’se ready and even anxious to go when de Good Lord calls for old Jasper to come to de Heav’nly Home.

“I ain’t heared nothin’ from my only brother in over 7 years.  I ’spose he still lives in Crawfordville.  Missy, I wishes I could go back down to Crawfordville one more time.  I kin jus’ see our old homeplace on de plantation down dar now.  Lula a-washin’ here, makes me study ’bout de old washplace on Marse Henry’s plantation.  Dere was a long bench full of old wood tubs, and a great big iron pot for bilin’ de clothes, and de batten block and stick.  Chillun beat de clothes wid de batten stick and kept up de fire ’round de pot whilst de ’omans leaned over de tubs washin’ and a-singin’ dem old songs.  You could hear ’em ’most a mile away.  Now and den one of de ‘omans would stop singin’ long enough to yell at de chillun to ’git more wood on dat fire ’fore I lash de skin offen your back.’

“Oh Missy, dem was good old days.  Us would be lucky to have ’em back again, ’specially when harvest time comes ’round.  You could hear Niggers a-singin’ in de fields ’cause dey didn’t have no worries lak dey got now.  When us got de corn up from de fields, Niggers come from far and nigh to Marster’s cornshuckin’.  Dat cornshuckin’ wuk was easy wid evvybody singin’ and havin’ a good time together whilst dey made dem shucks fly.  De cornshuckin’ captain led all de singin’ and he set right up on top of de highes’ pile of corn.  De chillun was kept busy a-passin’ de liquor jug ‘round.  Atter it started gittin’ dark, Marster had big