No, boss, I’se not superstitious and I’se believe in no signs.  I jes’ carry a rabbits’ foot for luck.  But I do believe the screeching of an owl is a sign of death.  I found et to be true.  I had an Uncle named Haywood.  He stayed at my house and was sick for a month but wasn’t so bad off.  One night uncle had a relapse and dat same night a screech owl come along and sat on de top of de house and he—­I mean the owl,—­“whooed” three times and next morning uncle got “worser” and at eleven o’clock he died.

I does believe in signs.  When de rooster crows in the house it is sign of a stranger coming.  If foot itches you is going to walk on strange land.  If cow lows at house at night death will be ’round de house in short time.  If sweeping out ashes at night dat is bad luck for you is sweeping out your best friend.  Remember, your closest friend is your worst enemy.

If you want to go a courtin’—­et would take a week or so to get your gal.  Sometimes some fool nigger would bring a gal a present—­like “pulled-candy” and sich like.  I had no time for sich foolishness.  You would pop the question to boss man to see if he was willing for you to marry de gal.  There was no minister or boss man to marry you—­no limitations at all.  Boss man would jes say:  “Don’t forget to bring me a little one or two for next year” De Boss man would fix a cottage for two and dere you was established for life.

“If you want to go a courtin’, I sho’ you where to go, Right down yonder in de house below, Clothes all dirty an’ ain’t got no broom, Ole dirty clothes all hangin’ in de room.  Ask’d me to table, thought I’d take a seat, First thing I saw was big chunk o’meat.  Big as my head, hard as a maul, ash-cake, corn bread, bran an’ all.”

Marse Frank had plenty of visitors to see him and his three gals was excuse for anyone for miles around to come trompin’ in.  He enterained mostly on Tuesday and Thursday nights.  I remembers them nights for what was left over from de feasts the niggers would eat.

Dr. Fielding Ficklen [TR:  earlier, ’Ficklin’], Bill Pope, Judge Reese,—­General Robert Toombs and Alexander Stephens from Crawfordville—­all would come to Marse Franks’ big house.

General Robert Toombs lived in Washington and had a big plantation ’bout a mile from de city.  He was a farmer and very rich.  De General wuz a big man—­’bout six feet tall—­heavy and had a full face.  Always had unlighted cigar in his mouth.  He was the first man I saw who smoked ten cent cigars.  Niggers used to run to get “the stumps” and the lucky nigger who got the “stump” could even sell it for a dime to the other niggers for after all—­wasn’t it General Toombs’ cigar?  The General never wore expensive clothes and always carried a crooked-handled walking stick.  I’se never heard him say “niggah”, never heard him cuss.  He always helped us niggars—­gave gave us nickles and dimes at times.

Alexander Stephens wuz crippled.  He was a little fellow—­slim, dark hair and blue eyes.  Always used a rolling chair.  Marse Frank would see him at least once a month.