oller, you ask me? 'Spect I do 'member them. Wasn't I a goodlookin'
woman? Didn't Sam want to see me more than twice a week? Wouldn't he
risk it widout de pass some time? Sure he did. De patrollers got after
and run Sam many a time."

"After de war my pappy went to Florida. He look just like a Indian, hair
and all, bushy head, straight and young lookin' wid no beard. We never
heard from him since."

"De slaves wash de family clothes on Saturday and then rested after
doin' dat. Us had a good time Christmas; every slave ketch white folks
wid a holler, 'Christmas gift, Marster' and they holler it to each
other. Us all hung our stockin's all 'bout de Big House, and then dere
would be sumpin' in dere next mornin'. Lord, wasn't them good times!"

"Now how is it dese days? Young triflin' nigger boys and gals lyin'
'round puffin' cigarets, carryin' whiskey 'round wid them, and gittin'
in jail on Christmas, grievin' de Lord and their pappies, and all sich
things. OH! De risin' generation and de future! What is it comin' to? I
just don't know, but dere is comin' a time to all them."

"I sho' like to dance when I was younger. De fiddlers was Henry Copley
and Buck Manigault; and if anybody 'round here could make a fiddle ring
like Buck could, wouldn't surprise me none if my heart wouldn't cry out
to my legs, 'Fust lady to de right and cheat or swing as you like, and
on to de right'."

"Stop dat laughin'. De Indian blood in me have held me up over a hundred
years, and de music might make me young again."

"Oh yes, us had ghost stories, make your hair stand on end, and us put
iron in de fire when us hear screech owl, and put dream book under bed
to keep off bad dreams."

"When de yankees come they took off all they couldn't eat or burn, but
don't let's talk 'bout dat. Maybe if our folks had beat them and git up
into dere country our folks would of done just like they did. Who
knows?"

"You see dis new house, de flower pots, de dog out yonder, de cat in de
sun lyin' in de chair on de porch, de seven tubs under de shed, de two
big wash pots, you see de pictures hangin' round de wall, de nice beds,
all dese things is de blessin's of de Lord through President Roosevelt.
My grandson, Pinckney, is a World War man, and he got in de CCC Camp,
still in it in North Carolina. When he got his bonus, he come down, and
say, 'Grandma, you too old to walk, supposin' I git you a automobile?"
I allow, 'Son, de Indian blood rather make me want