se an' raise me. Dat wuz de fust year of
de war, I believes.

"De Mitchels [HW: Mitchells (?)] wuz good ter us in a way, an' dey doan
spare de rod when it am needed, nor does dey think dat a picaninny
can't go barefooted in de hot summertime. Dey believes in a heap of
wuck do' an' no play at all, an' very little rations.

"De men slaves 'ud wuck in de fiel's an' at dinnertime dey ain't had
nothin' 'cept a quart of buttermilk, an' a ash cake. I got a whole heap
better dan dey did, but youngin'-like I begged dem fer some of dere
dinner.

"I neber thought dat Mis' Mitchel wuz hard till I seed her whup Aunt
Pidea. Aunt Pidea wuz a good soul an' she wuz good ter we youngins, an'
we loved her. She got ter gittin' frantic do', an' she'd put on her
dinner on de stove, den she'd go ter de woods an' run an' romp lak a
chile.

"Mis Mitchel had loved her too, but atter awhile she got mad an' she
wuz mad bad too. She tuck Aunt Pidea out ter a tree, stripped off her
waist, tied her ter de tree an' whup her wid a cowhide till de blood
runs down her back.

"We wuz told dat de Yankees would kill us an' we wuz skeered of dem
too, an' I wuz always runnin' fer fear de Yankees would git me. When
dey did come I wuz out at de well, drawin' water wid de windlass an' I
wuz so short dat I had ter jump up ter grap de handle. I looked up de
road an' de Yankees wuz comin' up de road as thick as fleas on a dog's
back. I gives a yell, turns de windlass a loose, an' flies roun' de
house ter my missus. Hit's a wonder dat windlass ain't turn ober an
break my haid in.

"I had hyard 'bout my sister what wuz sold 'fore I wuz borned, an' I
ain't knowin' whar she is, but atter de war had been ober fer two years
she comed ter Mis' Mitchel's an' got me. She carried me ter Louisburg
an' sont me ter de Yankee school dar. I 'member a song dat de Yankees
teached us, or at least a part o' one.

"'How often we think o' childhood joys
And tricks we used to play
Upon each other while at school
To while the time away.'"

Chorus

"'They often wished me with them
But they always wished in vain
I'd rather be with Rosenell
A-swinging in the lane.'"

"I won't talk ter my chilluns 'bout slavery days, case I doan want 'em
ter git stirred up 'bout it. I'se told 'em dat we ain't paid no mo' dan
de white folkses fer our freedom, case some of dem sold dereselbes ter
git hyar an' dey fought in wars dat de nigger doan