“I ‘member all our young marsters was drillin’ way back in 1860, an’ the Confed’rate War did not break out till in April 1861.  My mistis’ young husband went to the war, an’ all the other young marsters ’round us.  Young marster’s bes’ friend came to tell us all goodby, an’ he was killed in the first battle he fought in.

“Befo’ the war, when we was little, we mostly played dolls, and had doll houses, but sometime young marster would come out on the back porch and play the fiddle for us.  When he played ‘Ole Dan Tucker’ all the peoples uster skip and dance ’bout and have a good time.  My young mistis played on the piano.

“My granpa was so trusty and hon’able his old marster give him and granma they freedom when he died.  He give him a little piece of land and a mule, and some money, and tole him he didn’t b’long to nobody, and couldn’t work for nobody ’cept for pay.  He couldn’t free granpa’s chilrun, ’cause they already b’longed to their young marsters and mistises.  He worked for Mr. Hezie Boyd one year as overseer, but he say he didn’t wanter lose his religion trying to make slaves work, so he took to preaching.  He rode ’bout on his mule and preach at all the plantations.  I never ‘member seein’ granma, but granpa came to see us of’en.  He wore a long tail coat and a big beaver hat.  In that hat granma had always pack a pile of ginger cakes for us chilrun.  They was big an’ thick, an’ longish, an’ we all stood ’round to watch him take off his hat.  Every time he came to see us, granma sent us clothes and granpa carried ’em in his saddle bags.  You ever see any saddle bags, ma’am?  Well they could sho’ hold a heap of stuff!

“My pa uster come two or three times a week to our plantashun, an’ just so he was back by sun-up for work, nobody didn’t say nothin’ to him.  He just lived ’bout three or four miles way from us.

“Yes ma’am we went to church, and the white preachers preached for us.  We sat in the back of the church just like we sits in the back of the street cars now-days.  Some of the house servants would go one time and some another.  All the hands could go but ev’rybody had to has a pass, to sho’ who they b’long to.

“Yes ma’am, the slaves was whipped if they didn’t do they taskwork, or if they steal off without a pass, but if our marster found a overseer whipped the slaves overmuch he would git rid of him.  We was always treated good and kind and well cared for, and we was happy.

“No ma’am, no overseer ever went to marster’s table, or in the house ‘cept to speak to marster.  Marster had his overseers’ house and give ’em slaves to cook for ’em and wait on ’em, but they never go anywhere with the fam’ly.

“The house servants’ houses was better than the fiel’-hands’—­and Marster uster buy us cloth from the ’Gusta Fact’ry in checks and plaids for our dresses, but all the fiel’-hands clothes was made out of cloth what was wove on mistis’ own loom.  Sometime the po’ white folks in the neighborhood would come an’ ask to make they cloth on mistis’ loom, and she always let ’em.