and great-grandchillen close
by. This is home to us. When we talk about the old home place (the Jones
residence, now some hundred years old) we just say 'the house' 'cause
there's only one house to us. The rest of the family was all fine folks
and good to me but I loved Miss Ella better'n any one or anythin' else
in the world. She was the best friend I ever had. If I ever wanted for
anythin' I just asked her an she give it to me or got it for me somehow.
Once when Cofer was in his last sickness his sister come from East
Liverpool, Ohio, to see 'im. I went to Miss Ella to borrow a little
money. She didn't have no change but she just took a ten dollar bill
from her purse an' says 'Here you are, Betty, use what you need and
bring me what's left'.

"I always did what I could for her too an' stood by her--but one time.
That was when we was little girls goin' together to fetch the mail. It
was hot an' dusty an' we stopped to cool off an' wade in the 'branch'.
We heard a horse trottin' an' looked up an' there was Marster switchin'
his ridin' whip an' lookin' at us. 'Git for home, you two, and I'll
'tend to you,' he says, an' we got! But this time I let Miss Ella go to
'the house' alone an' I sneaked aroun' to Granny's cabin an' hid. I was
afraid I'd git whupped! 'Nother time, Miss Ella went to town an' told me
to keep up her fire whilst she was away. I fell asleep on the hearth and
the fire done burnt out so's when Miss Ella come home the room was cold.
She was mad as hops. Said she never had hit me but she sure felt like
doin' it then.

"Yes'm, I been here a right smart while. I done lived to see three
generations of my white folks come an' go, an' they're the finest folks
on earth. There use to be a reg'lar buryin' ground for the plantation
hands. The colored chillen use to play there but I always played with
the white chillen. (This accounts for Aunt Betty's gentle manner and
speech.) Three of the old log cabins (slave cabins) is there yet. One of
'em was the 'boys cabin'. (house for boys and unmarried men) They've got
walls a foot thick an' are used for store-rooms now. After freedom we
buried out around our little churches but some of th' old grounds are
plowed under an' turned into pasture cause the colored folks didn't get
no deeds to 'em. It won't be long 'fore I go too but I'm gwine lie near
my old home an' my folks.

"Yes'm, I remember Marse Israel Lash, my Pappy's Marster. He was a low,
thick-set man, very jolly