"Times has sho done changed lots since dem days; chillun warn't 'lowed to run 'round den. When I went off to church on a Sunday, I knowed I had to be back home not no later dan four o'clock. Now chillun jus' goes all de time, whar-some-ever dey wants to go. Dey stays out most all night sometimes, and deir mammies don't never know whar dey is half de time. 'Tain't right, Missy, folkses don't raise deir chillun right no more; dey don't larn 'em to be 'bejient and don't go wid 'em to church to hear de Word of de Lawd preached lak dey should ought to.
"Fore de war, colored folkses went to de same church wid deir white folkses and listened to de white preacher. Slaves sot way back in de meetin'-house or up in a gallery, but us could hear dem good old sermons, and dem days dey preached some mighty powerful ones. All my folkses jined de Baptist Church, and Dr. John Mell's father, Dr. Pat Mell, baptized evvy one of 'em. Course I growed up to be a Baptist too lak our own white folkses.
"Slaves had to wuk hard dem days, but dey had good times too. Our white folkses looked atter us and seed dat us had what-some-ever us needed. When talk come 'round 'bout havin' separate churches for slaves, our white folkses give us deir old meetin'-house and built deyselfs a new one, but for a long time atter dat it warn't nothin' to see white folkses visitin' our meetin's, cause dey wanted to help us git started off right. One old white lady—us called her Aunty Peggy—never did stop comin' to pray and sing and shout wid us 'til she jus' went off to sleep and woke up in de better world. Dat sho was one good 'oman.
"Some of dem slaves never wanted no 'ligion, and dey jus' laughed at us cause us testified and shouted. One day at church a good old 'oman got right 'hind a Nigger dat she had done made up her mind she was gwine to see saved 'fore dat meetin' ended. She drug 'im up to de mourner's bench. He 'lowed he never made no prep'ration to come in dis world and dat he didn't mean to make none to leave it. She prayed and prayed, but dat fool Nigger jus' laughed right out at her. Finally de 'oman got mad. 'Laugh if you will,' she told dat man, 'De Good Lawd is gwine to purge out your sins for sho, and when you gits full of biles and sores you'll be powerful glad to git somebody to pray for you. Dat ain't all; de same Good Lawd is gwine to lick you a thousand lashes for evvy time you is done made fun of dis very meetin'.' Missy, would you believe it, it warn't no time 'fore dat man sickened and died right out wid a cancer in his mouf. Does you 'member dat old sayin' 'De ways of de Lawd is slow but sho?'
"Corpses was washed good soon atter de folkses died and deir clothes put on 'em, den dey was laid on coolin' boards 'til deir coffins was made up. Why Missy, didn't you know dey didn't have no sto'-bought coffins dem days? Dey made 'em up right dere on de plantation. De corpse was measured and de coffin made to fit it. Sometimes dey was lined wid black calico, and sometimes dey painted 'em black on de outside. Dere warn't no undytakers den, and dere warn't none of dem vaults to set coffins in neither; dey jus' laid planks crost de top of a coffin 'fore de dirt was piled in de grave.
"When dere was a death 'round our neighborhood, evvybody went and paid deir 'spects to de fambly of de dead. Folkses set up all night wid de corpse and sung and prayed. Dat settin' up was mostly to keep cats offen de corpse. Cats sho is bad atter dead folks; I'se heared tell dat dey most et up some corpses what nobody warn't watchin'. When de time come to bury de dead, dey loaded de coffin on to a wagon, and most times de fambly rode to de graveyard in a wagon too, but if it warn't no fur piece off, most of de other folkses walked. Dey started singin' when dey left de house and sung right on 'til dat corpse was put in de grave. When de preacher had done said a prayer, dey all sung: _I'se Born to Die and Lay Dis Body Down_. Dat was 'bout all dere was to de buryin', but later on dey had de funeral sermon preached in church, maybe six months atter de buryin'. De white folkses had all deir funeral sermons preached at de time of de buryin'.
"Yes Mam, I 'members de fust money I ever wuked for. Marster paid me 50 cents a day when I got big enough to wuk, and dat was plumb good wages den. When I got to whar I could pick more'n a hunnerd pounds of cotton in one day he paid me more. I thought I was rich den. Dem was good old days when us lived back on de plantation. I 'members dem old folkses what used to live 'round Lexin'ton, down in Oglethorpe County.
"When us warn't out in de fields, us done little jobs 'round de big house, de cabins, barns, and yards. Us used to holp de older slaves git out whiteoak splits, and dey larnt us to make cheer bottoms and baskets out of dem splits. De best cheer bottoms what lasted de longest was dem what us made wid red ellum withes. Dem old shuck bottoms was fine too; dey plaited dem shucks and wound 'em 'round for cheer bottoms and footsmats. De 'omans made nice hats out of shucks and wheat straw. Dey plaited de shucks and put 'em together wid plaits of wheat straw. Dey warn't counted much for Sunday wear, but dey made fine sun hats.