to de dinin' room in de big house. I don't reckon you ever seed as big a
fireplace as de one dey cooked on in dat old kitchen. It had plenty of
room for enough pots, skillets, spiders, and ovens to cook for all de
folks on dat plantation. No, mam, slaves never had no gardens of deir
own; dey never had no time of deir own to wuk no garden, but Old Marster
fed 'em from his garden and dat was big enough to raise plenty for all.

"De one little cotton shirt dat was all chillun wore in summertime den
warn't worth talkin' 'bout; dey called it a shirt but it looked more lak
a long-tailed nightgown to me. For winter, our clothes was made of wool
cloth and dey was nice and warm. Mistess, slaves never knowed what
Sunday clothes was, 'cept dey did know dey had to be clean on Sunday. No
matter how dirty you went in de week-a-days, you had to put on clean
clothes Sunday mornin'. Uncle John Craddock made shoes for all de grown
folks on our plantation, but chillun went barfoots and it never seemed
to make 'em sick; for a fact, I b'lieves dey was stouter den dan dey is
now.

"Marse Joe McWhorter and his wife, Miss Emily Key, owned us, and dey was
jus' as good to us as dey could be. Mistess, you knows white folks had
to make slaves what b'longed to 'em mind and be-have deyselfs in dem
days or else dere woulda been a heap of trouble. De big fine house what
Marse Joe and his fambly lived in sot in a cedar grove and Woodville was
de town nighest de place. Oh! Yes, mam, dey had a overseer all right,
but I'se done forgot his name, and somehow I can't git up de names of
Marse Joe's chillun. I'se been sick so long my mem'ry ain't as good as
it used to be, and since I lost my old 'oman 'bout 2 months ago, I don't
'spect I ever kin reckomember much no more. It seems lak I'se done told
you my pa was Marse Joe's carriage driver. He driv de fambly
whar-some-ever dey wanted to go.