sorts of little jobs lak dat. Miss Martha, de overseer's daughter, tried
to larn me to read and write, but I wouldn't take it in.

"No Ma'm dere warn't no churches for Niggers in slavery time, so slaves
had to go to deir white folkses churches. Us went to church at Betty
Berry (Bethabara) and Mars Hill. When time come for de sermon to de
Niggers, sometimes de white folkses would leave and den again dey would
stay, but dat overseer, he was dar all de time. Old man Isaac Vandiver,
a Nigger preacher what couldn't read a word in de Bible, would git up in
dat pulpit and talk from his heart. You know dere's heaps of folkses
what's got dat sort of 'ligion--it's deep in deir hearts. De Reverend
Freeman was de white folkses' preacher. I laked him best, for what he
said allus sounded good to me.

"At funerals us used to sing _Hark From De Tomb A Doleful Sound_. I
never went to no funerals, but Old Marster's and Aunt Nira's, 'fore de
end of de war.

"When Old Marster went off to de war, he had all his slaves go to de
musterin' ground to see him leave. He was captain of his company from
Oconee County, and 'fore he left he had de mens in dat company bury deir
silver and gold, deir watches, rings, and jus' anything dey wanted to
keep, on Hog Mountain. Ha lef' a guard to watch de hidin' place so as
dey would have somepin when dey come back home, den dey marched back to
de musterin' ground dat was twixt de Hopkins' plantation and Old
Marster's place. Uncle Solomon went along to de war to tote Marster's
gun, cook for him, and sich lak. It warn't long 'fore old Marse was kilt
in dat war, and Uncle Solomon fetches him back in a coffin. All de
slaves dat went to de buryin' jus' trembled when guns was fired over Old
Marster's grave. Dat was done to show dat Old Marster had been a