Georgia, and my name
am Albert Hill. My papa's name was Dillion, 'cause he taken dat name
from he owner, Massa Tom Dillion. He owned de plantation next to Massa
Hill's, and he owned my mammy and us 13 chillen. I don't know how old I
is, but I 'members de start of de war, and I was a sizeable chile den.

"De plantation wasn't so big and wasn't so small, jus' fair size, but it
am fixed first class and everything am good. We has good quarters made
out of logs and lots of tables and benches, what was made of split logs.
We has de rations and massa give plenty of de cornmeal and beans and
'lasses and honey. Sometimes we has tea, and once in a while we gits
coffee. And does we have de tasty and tender hawg meat! I'd like to see
some of dat hawg meat now.

"Massa am good but he don't 'low de parties. But we kin go to Massa
Dillion's place next to us and dey has lots of parties and de dances. We
dances near all night Saturday night, but we has to stay way in de back
where de white folks can't hear us. Sometimes we has de fiddle and de
banjo and does we cut dat chicken wing and de shuffle! We sho' does.

"I druv de ox, and drivin' dat ox am agitation work in de summer time
when it am hot, 'cause dey runs for water every time. But de worst
trouble I ever has is with one hoss. I fotches de dinner to de workers
out in de field and I use dat hoss, hitched to de two-wheel cart. One
day him am halfway and dat hoss stop. He look back at me, a-rollin' de
eye, and I knows what dat mean--'Here I stays, nigger.' But I heered to
tie de rope on de balky hosses tail and run it 'twixt he legs and tie to
de shaft. I done dat and puts some cuckleburrs on de rope, too. Den I
tech him with de whip and he gives de rear back'ards. Dat he best rear.
When he do dat it pull de rope and de rope pull de tail and de burrs
gits busy. Dat hoss moves for'ard faster and harder den what he ever
done 'fore, and he keep on gwine. You see, he am trying git 'way from he
tail, but de tail am too fast. Course, it stay right behin' him. Den I's
in de picklement. Dat hoss am runnin' away and I can't stop him. De
workers lines up to stop him but de cart give de shove and dat pull he
tail and, lawdy whoo, dat hose jump for'ard like de jackrabbit and go
through dat line of workers. So I steers him into de fence row, and
dere's no more runnin', but an awful mix-up with de hoss and de cart and
de rations. Dat hoss so sceered him have de quavers. Massa say, 'What
you doi