“Dey neber hed no farm bells in slabery times fer ter ring en call de hans in en outen de fiel’s. Dey hed horns whut dey blowed early en late. De wuk wud go on till hit so dark dat dey can’t see. Den de horn wud blow en de niggers all cum in en git dey supper, en cook dey ash cakes in de fire whut dey build in dey own cabins. Boss Man, is yo eber et er ash cake? I don’t ’spects dat yo know how ter mek one er dem ash cakes. I gwine ter tell yo how dat is done. Fust yo git yo some good home groun meal en mix hit well wid milk er water en a liddle salt an bakin’ powder whut yo mek outen red corn cobs, den yo pat dem cakes up right good en let ’em settle, den put ’em in de hot ashes in de fireplace en kiver ’em up good wid some mo hot ashes en wait till dey done, en Boss Man, yo sho is got er ash cake dat is fitten ter eat. Dats de way dat us made ’em in slabery times en de way dat us yit meks ’em. Us didn’t know whut white bread wuz in de old days, hardly, ’ceptin sometimes ’roun de marster’s kitchen er nigger wud git er hold of er biscuit. All de bread dat de slabe niggers git wud be made outen cornmeal er dem brown shorts whut de marsters gib ’em in de rashions.
“Us wuz all well fed do in slabery times en kept in good fat condition. Ebery once in er while de marster wud hab er cow kilt en de meat ’stributed out mongst de folks en dey cud always draw all de rashions dat dey need.
“Dey used ter hab dem big corn shuckin’s too in de old days. De corn wud be piled up in er pile es big es er house en all de han’s wud be scattered out roun’ dat pile er corn shuckin’ fas’ as dey cud, en atter dey done shucked dat pile er corn, ole marster wud hab two big hogs kilt en cooked up in de big pots en kittles, en den dem niggers wud eat en frolic fer de longes’, mekin music wid er hand saw en er tin pan, en er dancin’, en laffin, en cuttin’ up, till dey tired out. Dem wuz good days, Boss Man. I sho wish dat I cud call dem times bak ergin. De marsters whut hed de big places en de slabe niggers, dey hardly do no wuk er tall, kase dey rich wid niggers en lan’, en dem en dey famblies don’t hab no wuk ter do, so de old marsters en de young marsters, dey jes knock erbout ober de country on dey hosses, en de young misses en de old misses, dey ride er bout in de fine kerrige wid de coachman er doin’ de drivin’. Dey hab de oberseers ter look atter de mekin er de crops, so de bosses, dey jes sort er manage, en see dat de bizness go on de right way.
“De marsters en de misses, dey look atter dere niggers good do en see dat dey keep demselves clean en ’spectible, en try ter keep de disease outen ’em. Ebery Monday mornin’ dey gib ’em all er little square, brown bottle er bitters fer dem ter take dat week. Dat wuz dere medicine, but iffen er nigger do git sick, den dey sent fer de doctor right er way en hab de doctor ter ’zamine de sick one en sey, ‘Doctor, kin you do dat nigger eny good?’ er ‘Do whut yo kin fer dat nigger, Doctor, kase he is er valuable han’ en wuth muney.’
“I neber wuz sick none do in my life, but I jes nathally been kilt, near ’bout, one time in de gin when my head git cotched twixt de lever en de band wheel en Uncle Dick hed ter prize de wheel up offen my head ter git me loose, en dat jes nigh ’bout peeled all de skin offen my head. Old marster, he gib me er good stroppin fer dat too. Dat wuz fer not obeyin’, kase he hed done tole all us young niggers fer ter stay ’way frum de gin house.
“I wuzn’t gwine ter be trained up ter wuk in de fiel’s, I wuz trained ter be er pussonal servant ter de marster, en sister Mattie, she wuz gwine ter be trained up ter be er house woman, en so wuz my old woman, Louisa, kase her mammy wuz er house woman herself fer her white folks in South Carolina, so I rekkin dats de reason us always thought we so much en better ’en de ginral run er niggers.
“Yes sir, Boss Man, de niggers is easy fooled. Dey always is been dat way, en we wuz fooled er way frum Alabama ter Arkansas by dem two Yankee mens, Mr. Van Vleet en Mr. Bill Bowman, whut I tole yo er bout, dat brung dat hundred head er folks de time us cum. Dey tole us dat in Arkansas dat de hogs jes layin’ er roun already baked wid de knives en de forks stickin’ in ’em ready fer ter be et, en dat dere wuz fritter ponds eberywhars wid de fritters er fryin’ in dem ponds er grease, en dat dar wuz money trees whar all yo hed ter do wuz ter pik de money offen ’em lak pickin’ cotton offen de stalk, en us wuz sho put out when us git here en fine dat de onliest meat ter be hed wuz dat whut wuz in de sto, en dem fritters hed ter be fried in de pans, en dat dar warn’t no money trees er tall. Hit warn’t long ’fore my grandpappy en my grandmammy, dey lef ’en went bak ter Alabama, but my mammy en us chillun, we jes stayed on right here in Phillips County whar us been eber since, en right en dat room right dar wuz whar us old mammy died long years er go.
“Well, Boss Man, yo done ax me en I sho gwine ter tell yo de truf. Yes sir, I sho is voted, en I ’members de time well dat de niggers in de cotehouse en de Red Shirts hab ter git ’em out. Dat wuz de bes’ thing dat dey eber do when dey git de niggers outen de cotehouse en quit ’em frum holdin’ de offices, kase er nigger not fit ter be no leader. I neber cud wuk under no nigger. I jes nathally neber wud wuk under no nigger. I jist voted sich er length er time, en when de Red Shirts, dey say dat er nigger not good enuf ter vote, en dey stopped me frum votin’, en I don’t mess wid hit no mo.
“Yes sir, Boss Man, I blebe dat de Lawd lef’ me here so long fer some good puppose, en I sho hopes dat I kin stay here fer er heap er mo years. I jes nathally lubes de white folks en knows dat dey is sho gwine ter tek care of old ‘Happy Day’, en ain’t gwine ter let me git hurt.
“De young niggers in dis day sho ain’t lak de old uns. Dese here young niggers is jes nathally de cause of all de trubble. Dey jes ain’t been raised right en ter be polite lak de old ones, lak me, I don’t hold it er gin yo, kase, mebbe yo pappy en yo mammy owned my pappy en my mammy in slabery times en whupped ’em, kase I ’spects dat dey needed all de punishment whut dey got. All de education whut I got, Boss Man, is jes ter wuk, en obey, en ter lib right.