“We didn’ have no gardens of our own round our cabins.  My employer—­I means, my marster—­had one big gyarden for our whole plantation and all his niggers had to work in it whensomever he wanted ’em to, then he give ’em all plenty good gyarden sass for theyselfs.  They was collards and cabbage and turnips and beets and english peas and beans and onions, and they was allus some garlic for ailments.  Garlic was mostly to cure wums (worms).  They roasted the garlic in the hot ashes and squez the juice outen it and made the chilluns take it.  Sometimes they made poultices outen garlic for the pneumony.

“We saved a heap of bark from wild cherry and poplar and black haw and slippery ellum trees and we dried out mullein leaves.  They was all mixed and brewed to make bitters.  Whensomever a nigger got sick, them bitters was good for—­well ma’am, they was good for what ailed ’em!  We tuk ’em for rheumatiz, for fever, and for the misery in the stummick and for most all sorts of sickness.  Red oak bark tea was good for sore throat.

“I never seed no store bought clothes twel long atter freedom done come!  One slave ‘oman done all the weavin’ in a separate room called the ’loom house.’  The cloth was dyed with home-made coloring.  They used indigo for blue, red oak bark for brown, green husks offen warnicks (walnuts) for black, and sumacs for red and they’d mix these colors to make other colors.  Other slave ’omans larned to sew and they made all the clothes.  Endurin’ the summertime we jus’ wore shirts and pants made outen plain cotton cloth.  They wove wool in with the cotton to make the cloth for our winter clothes.  The wool was raised right thar on our plantation.  We had our own shoemaker man—­he was a slave named Buck Bolton and he made all the shoes the niggers on our plantation wore.

“I waren’t nothin’ but chillun when freedom come.  In slavery-time chilluns waren’t ’lowed to do no wuk kazen the marsters wanted they niggers to grow up big and strong and didn’ want ’em stunted none.  Tha’s howcome I didn’ git no mo’ beatin’s than I did!  My employer—­I means, my marster, never did give me but one lickin’.  He had done told me to watch the cows and keep ’em in the pastur’.  I cotch lots of grasshoppers and started fishin’ in the crick runnin’ through the pastur’ and fust thing I knowed, the overseer was roundin’ up all the other niggers to git the cows outen the cornfields!  I knowed then my time had done come!”

James was enjoying the spotlight now, and his audience did not have to prompt him.  Plantation recollections crowded together in his old mind.

“We had one overseer at a time,” he said, “and he allus lived at the big ’ouse.  The overseers warn’t quality white folkses like our marster and mistess but we never heard nuffin’ ’bout no poor white trash in them days, and effen we had heard sumpin’ like that we’d have knowed better’n to let Marster hear us make such talk!  Marster made us call his overseer ‘Mister.’  We had one overseer named Mr. Andrew Smith and another time we had a overseer named Mr. Pope Short.  Overseers was jus’ there on the business of gettin’ the work done—­they seed atter everybody doin’ his wuk ‘cordin’ to order.