josey on".

There was no slave jail on the Stone place, and I never saw a slave sold
or auctioned off. I was told that one of our slaves ran off and was gone
for three years. Some white person wrote him to come home that he was
free. He was making his own way in Ohio and stopped in Lexington,
Kentucky for breakfast; while there he was asked to show his Pass papers
which he did, but they were forged so he was arrested. Investigators
soon found that his owner was Mr. Stone who did not wish to sell him and
sent for him to come home. Uncle Ned's own Tim said he "would go fetch
him back" but instead he sold him to a southern slave trader. My old
Mistus Meg taught me how to read from an old national spelling book, but
I did not learn to write. We had no church, but the Bible was read to us
on Sunday afternoons by some of the white folks. The first Church I
remember was the Old Fork Baptist Church about four miles from Lancaster
on the Lexington Pike. The first preacher I remember was Burdette
Kemper. I heard him preach at the old church where my Mistus and Master
took me every Sunday. The first Baptizin' that I remember was on Dix
Fiver near Floyd's Mill. Preacher Kemper did the Baptizin' and Ellen
Stone, one of our slaves was Baptized there with a number of
others--whites and blacks too. When Ellen came up out of the water she
was clapping her hands and shouting. One of the songs I remember at this
Baptizing was:

"Come sinners and Saints and hear me tell
The wonders of E-Man-u-el,
Who brought my soul with him to dwell
And give me heavenly union."

"The first funeral sermon I remember was preached by John Moran, negro