Chewing on a cud of tobacco, Ed answered the knock on his front door.
"Good evenin' Lady," he said. "Have a cheer on de porch whar it's cool."
Ed is about five feet, six inches in height, and on this afternoon he
was wearing a blue striped shirt, black vest, gray pants and black
shoes. His gray hair was topped by a soiled gray hat.

Nett, his wife, came hobbling out on the porch and sat down to listen to
the conversation. At first the old man was reluctant to talk of his
childhood experiences, but his interest was aroused by questioning and
soon he began to eagerly volunteer his memories. He had just had his
noon meal and now and then would doze a little, but was easily aroused
when questions called him back to the subject.

"I was borned in Oconee County," he said, "jus' below Watkinsville. My
Ma and Pa was Louisa and Henry McCree, but Old Marster called Pa 'Sherm'
for short. Far as I ever heared, my Ma and Pa was borned and brung up
right dar in Oconee County. Dere was six of us chillun: Silas, Lumpkin,
Bennie, Lucy, Babe, and me. Babe, she was borned a long time atter de
war.

"Little Niggers, what was too young to wuk in de fields, toted water to
de field hands and waited on de old 'omans what was too old to wuk in de
craps. Dem old 'omans looked atter de babies and piddled 'round de
yards.

"Slave quarters was lots of log cabins wid chimlies of criss-crossed
sticks and mud. Pore white folks lived in houses lak dat too. Our bed
was made wid high posties and had cords, what run evvy which a-way, for
springs. 'Course dey had to be wound tight to keep dem beds from fallin'
down when you tried to git in 'em. For mattresses, de 'omans put wheat