“Then we had three banjos.  The musicians was William Word, Uncle Dan Porter, and Miles Porter.  Did we dance?  Square dance.  Then if somebody been wantin’ to marry they step over the broom and it be nounced they married.  You can’t get nobody—­colored folks I mean—­to step over a broom; they say it bad luck.  If it fall and they step over they step back.  They say if somebody sweep under your feet you won’t marry that year.  Folks didn’t visit round much.  They had some place to go they went but they had to work.  They work together and done mighty little—­idle vistin’.  Folks took the knitting long visting lest it be Sunday.

“White women wouldn’t nurse their own babies cause it would make their breast fall.  They would bring a healthy woman and a clean woman up to the house.  They had a house close by.  She would nurse her baby and the white baby, too.  They would feed her everything she wanted.  She didn’t have to work cause the milk would be hot to give the babies.  Dannie and my brother Bradford, and Mary my sister and Miss Maggie nursed my mama.  Rich women didn’t nurse their babies, never did, cause it would cause their breast to be flat.

“My papa was the last slave to die.  Mama died twelve months fore he died.  I was born after freedom but times changed mighty little mama and papa said.  Grandma learned me to cut doll dresses and Miss Cornelia learned me to sew and learned Aunt Joe (a ex-slave Negro here in town) to play Miss Betty’s piano.  She was their house girl.  Yes ma’am, when I was small girl she was bout grown.  Aunt Joe is a fine cook.  Miss Cornelia learnt her how.  I could learned to played too but I didn’t want to.  I wanted to knit and crochet and sew.  Miss Cornelia said that was my talent.  I made wrist warmers and lace.  Sister Mary would spin.  She spun yarn and cotton thread.  They made feather beds.  Picked the geese and sheared the sheep.  I got my big feather bed now.

“When I married, Miss Betty made my weddin’ dress.  We had a preacher marry us at my home.  My mama give me to Miss Betty and they raised me.  I was the weaslingest one of her children.  She give me to Miss Betty.  Now she wants me to come back.  I think I go back Christmas and stay.  Miss Betty is old and feeble now.  I got three children living here in Hazen now.  All I got left.

“The men folks did all go off, white and black, and vote.  I don’t know how they voted.  Now, honey, you know I don’t know nothing bout voting.

“Times is so changed.  Conditions so changed that I don’t know if the young generation is improved much.  They learn better but it don’t do em no more good.  It seems like it is the management that counts.  That is the reason my grandpa didn’t want to leave Mars Daniel Johnson’s.  He was a good manager and Miss Betty is a good manager.  We don’t know how to manage and ain’t got much to manage wid.  That the way it looks to me.  Some folks is luckier than others.”