"Marster never lakked to git up real early hisself in slavery time, so he had one man what got de Niggers up out of bed so early dat dey had done et breakfast and was in de field when daylight come. Atter de war was over and evvybody was free, all de Niggers used to jus' piddle and play 'round evvy mornin' whilst dey was waitin' for Marster to come. Dem and de mules would be jus' a-standin' still and when de word was passed dat Marster had done got up all of 'em would start off wid a rush, jus' a-hollerin': 'Whoa, dar! Gee haw!' jus' lak dey had done been wukkin' hard all mornin'. One day Marster cotch 'em at it, and he didn't say a word 'til time come to pay off, and he tuk out for all de time dey had lost.
"Sometimes slaves run away and hid out in caves. Dey would pile up rocks and sticks and pine limbs to hide de caves, and sometimes dey would stay hid out for weeks, and de other Niggers would slip 'em somepin t'eat at night. Dere warn't many what run off on our place, 'cause our Marster was so good to all of 'em dat dere warn't nothin' to run from.
"Marster made all his wuk tools at home. Plow-sheers was made out of wood trimmed to de right shape and fastened to a iron point. When dey was plowin' in de young cotton, dey nailed a board on one side of de plow to rake de dirt back up 'round de cotton plants.
"Marster's gin was turned by a mule. Dat big old gin wheel had wooden cogs what made de gin wuk when de old mule went 'round and 'round hitched to dat wheel. Dat old cotton press was a sight. Fust dey cut down a big old tree and trimmed off de limbs and made grooves in it for planks to fit in. It was stood up wid a big weight on top of it, over de cotton what was to be pressed. It was wukked by a wheel what was turned by a mule, jus' lak de one what turned de gin. A old mule pulled de pole what turned de syrup mill too. Missy, dem old mules done deir part 'long side de Niggers dem days, and Marster seed dat his mules had good keer too. When dem mules had done turned de mill 'til de juice was squez out of de sugarcane stalks, dey strained dat juice and biled it down 'til it was jus' de finest tastin' syrup you ever did see. Marster's mill whar he ground his wheat and corn was down on de crick, so de water could turn de big old wheel.
"Dem old cornshuckin's was sho' 'nough big times, 'cause us raised so much corn dat it tuk several days to shuck it all. Us had to have two generals. Dey chose sides and den dey got up on top of de biggest piles of corn and kept de slaves a-singin' fast so dey would wuk fast. De fust crowd what finished got de prize. Dere ain't much I can 'member of words to dem old cornshuckin' songs. One general would start off singin': 'Shuck up dis corn, shuck up dis corn, 'cause us is gwine home,' and de other general would be a-shoutin': 'Make dem shucks fly, make dem shucks fly, us is gwine to go home.' Over and over dey kept on singin' dem lines. Come nighttime Marster would have big bonfires built up and set out torches for 'em to see how to wuk, and evvy time he passed 'round dat jug of corn likker shucks would fly some faster. When all de corn was done shucked and de big supper had been et, dere was wrastlin' matches and dancin' and all sorts of frolickin'.
"'Til dey could git a colored preacher, slaves had to go to church wid deir white folks. Missy, I 'members yit, de fust preacher I ever heared. He was a white man, Preacher Gibson dey called him, and his sermons made you mind what you was 'bout 'cause he preached straight from de Bible. Dat day when I fust heared him his text was: 'If you gits lost in sin, den you is lost from God's word, and will have to be borned again.' Dat's de trufe, Missy, it sho' is. Young folks dese days is headed plumb straight for 'struction, 'cause dey won't listen to de Gospel. If dey don't change from de way dey is goin' now de old debbil is gwine to ketch 'em sho. All of us had better mind what us is 'bout, for 'ligion most times now is by our own minds and thoughts, and somebody else is apt to follow de 'ligion he sees in us. De Bible says to teach young folks de way dey should go, and dey won't depart from deir raisin'. You sho' can't raise 'em right by jus' teachin' 'em dese days; it evermore do take plenty of layin' on of dat rod. I would jus' lak to see how dese young folks would lak it if dey had to ride for miles and miles in a oxcart, or else walk it, to git to 'tend church. Dere wouldn't be many of de ones I knows 'round here would git dar. Us used to have four steers hitched to our old cart, and it was slow-goin', but us got dar.
"Atter us got our own churches us still had to have white preachers for a long time and den us was 'lowed to have colored preachers. When somebody wanted to jine our church us 'zamined 'em, and if us didn't think dey was done ready to be tuk in de church, dey was told to wait and pray 'til dey had done seed de light. Anybody can jine up wid de church now, Missy, and it ain't right de way dey lets 'em come in widout 'zaminin' 'em. De good Lord sho' don't lak dat way of handlin' His church business. One of dem cand-i-dates was a mean Nigger and our preacher and deacons wouldn't let him in our church. Den he went over to another church and told 'em dat he had talked wid de Lord 'bout how us wouldn't let him jine up wid us, and he 'lowed dat de Lord said to him: 'Dat's all right. I done been tryin' to jine up in dat church for 15 years myself, and can't git in, so you go on and jine another church.' Dat other church let dat bad Nigger in and it warn't long 'fore dey had to turn him out, 'cause he warn't fittin' to be in no church.
"Our preacher used to give us parables. One of 'em was lak dis: 'I'se seed good cotton growin' in de grass.' He 'splained it dat dere was some good in de wust sinners. Another of his parables was: 'If you can't keep up wid de man at de foot, how is you gwine to keep up wid de higher-up folks?' Dat meant if you can't sarve God here below, how is you gwine to git along wid him if you gits to Heben? Our preacher told us to sarve both our marsters. De fust Marster was God, he said, and de other one was our white marster.
"I ain't never been inside no courtroom and don't never 'spect to be dar, 'cause, missy, I don't mind nobody's business but my own, and dat's all I can do.
"No Mam, I don't never git much sick. I had a bad old haid cold last winter, but I stopped dat wid coal oil and by breathin' in smoke from scorched leather. Light'ood splinter tea is helpful when I has a chist cold. Salts ain't de best thing for old folks to be doctored wid. I takes common cookin' soda sweetened wid a little sugar. Dem is old-time doses from way back in de old days, and I still use 'em all.