“No Ma’am, us didn’t go fishin’, or rabbit huntin’ nuther.  Us had to wuk an’ warn’t no Nigger ‘lowed to do no frolickin’ lak dat in daytime.  De white folkses done all de fishin’ an’ daytime huntin’.  I don’t ’member lakin’ no sartin’ somethin’.  I wuz jus’ too glad to git anythin’.  Slaves didn’t have no gyardens of dey own.  Old Marster had one big gyarden what all de slaves et out of.

“Tell you ‘bout our clo’es:  us wore home-made clo’es, pants an’ shirts made out of cotton in summer an’ in de winter dey give us mo’ home-made clo’es only dey wuz made of wool.  All de clawf wuz made on de loom right dar on de plantation.  Us wore de same things on Sunday what us did in de week, no diffunt.  Our shoes wuz jus’ common brogans what dey made at home.  I ain’t seed no socks ’til long atter de War.  Co’se some folkses mought a had ’em, but us didn’t have none.

“Marster Berry Bostwick an’ Mist’ess Mary Bostwick, had a passel of chillun, I don’t ’member none ’cept young Marse John.  De others drifted off an’ didn’t come back, but young Marse John stayed on wid Old Marster an’ Old Mist’ess ’til dey died.  Old Marster, he warn’t good.  Truth is de light, an’ he wuz one mean white man.  Old Mist’ess wuz heaps better dan him.  Dar wuz ‘bout 150 mens an’ 75 ’omans.  I couldn’t keep up wid de chilluns.  Dere wuz too many for me.

“Marster an’ Mist’ess lived in a big fine house, but de slave quarters wuz made of logs, ’bout de size of box cyars wid two rooms.

“’Bout dat overseer he wuz a mean man, if one ever lived.  He got de slaves up wid a gun at five o’clock an’ wukked ’em ’til way atter sundown, standin’ right over ’em wid a gun all de time.  If a Nigger lagged or tuk his eyes off his wuk, right den an’ dar he would make him strip down his clo’es to his waist, an’ he whup him wid a cat-o-nine tails.  Evvy lick dey struck him meant he wuz hit nine times, an’ it fotch da red evvy time it struck.

“Oh!  Yes Ma’am, dey had a cyar’iage driver, he didn’t do much ’cept look attar de hawses an’ drive de white folkses ‘roun’.

“I done tole you ’bout dat overseer; all he done wuz sot ‘roun’ all day wid a gun an’ make de Niggers wuk.  But I’se gwine tell you de trufe, he sho’ wuz poor white trash wid a house full of snotty-nose chilluns.  Old Marster tole him he wuz jus’ lak a rabbit, he had so many chillun.  I means dis; if dem days comes back I hope de good Lord takes me fus’.

“Dey had a house whar dey put de Niggers, what wuz called de gyard house, an’ us didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout no jail dat day an’ time.  I seed ‘em drive de Niggers by old Marster’s place in droves takin’ ’em to Watkinsville.  Morgan County, whar us lived, touched Oconee an’ dat wuz the nighes’ town.  One day I went wid old Marster to Watkinsville an’ I seed ’em sell Niggers on de block.  I warn’t sold.  When I knowed nothin’ I wuz right whar I wuz at.

“No Ma’am, dey warn’t no schools for de Niggers in dem days.  If a Nigger wuz seed wid a paper, de white folks would pretty nigh knock his head off him.