plantation.

"Nex' thing I knowed us all b'longed to Marse Withers. He was from de
nawth an' he didn' have no wife. (Marsters wid-out wives was de debbil.
I knows a-plenty what I oughtn' tell to ladies. Twant de marsters whut
was so mean. Twas dem po' white trash overseers an' agents. Dey was
mean; dey was meaner dan bulldogs. Yes'm, wives made a big diffe'nce.
Dey was kin' an' went 'bout mongst de slaves a-lookin' after 'em. Dey
give out food an' clo'es an' shoes. Dey doctered de little babies.) When
things went wrong de wimmins was all de time puttin' me up to tellin' de
Mistis. Marse D.D. Withers was my young marster. He was a little man,
but ever'body stepped when he come 'roun'.

"Don' rightly know how it come 'bout. Lemme see! De bes' I 'member my
nex' Marster was Pres'dent Jefferson Davis hisse'f. Only he warnt no
pres'dent den. He was jus' a tall quiet gent'man wid a pretty young wife
what he married in Natchez. Her name was Miss Varina Howell, an' he sho'
let her have her way. I spec I's de only one livin' whose eyes ever seed
'em bofe. I talked wid her when dey come in de big steamboat. 'Fore us
got to de big house, I tol' her all 'bout de goins'-on on de
plantations. She was a fine lady. When I was a boy 'bout thirteen years
old dey took me up de country toward Vicksburg to a place call
Briarsfield. It mus'-a been named for her old home in Natchez what was
called 'de Briars.' I didn' b'long to Marse Jeff no great while, but I
aint never fo'git de look of 'im. He was always calm lak an' savin' on
his words. His wife was jus' de other way. She talked more dan a-plenty.

"I b'lieves a bank sol' us nex' to Marse L.Q. Chambers. I 'members him
well. I was a house-servant an' de overseer dassent hit me a lick.
Marster done lay de law down. Mos' planters lived on dey plantations