ned plants and flowers
crowd the neatly swept dooryard. A friendly German-shepherd puppy rouses
from his nap on the sunny porch to greet visitors enthusiastically. In
answer to our knock a gentle voice calls, "Come in." The door opens
directly into a small, low-ceilinged room almost filled by two double
beds. These beds are conspicuously clean and covered by homemade
crocheted spreads. Wide bands of hand-made insertion ornament the
stiffly starched pillow slips. Against the wall is a plain oak dresser.
Although the day is warm, two-foot logs burn on the age-worn andirons of
the wide brick fire place. From the shelf above dangles a leather bag
of "spills" made from twisted newspapers.

In a low, split-bottom chair, her rheumatic old feet resting on the warm
brick hearth, sits Aunt Betty Cofer. Her frail body stoops under the
weight of four-score years but her bright eyes and alert mind are those
of a woman thirty years younger. A blue-checked mob cap covers her
grizzled hair. Her tiny frame, clothed in a motley collection of
undergarments, dress, and sweaters, is adorned by a clean white apron.
Although a little shy of her strange white visitors, her innate dignity,
gentle courtesy, and complete self possession indicate long association
with "quality folks."

Her speech shows a noticeable freedom from the usual heavy negro dialect
and idiom of the deep south. "Yes, Ma'am, yes, Sir, come in. Pull a
chair to the fire. You'll have to 'scuse me. I can't get around much,
'cause my feet and legs bother me, but I got good eyes an' good ears an'
all my own teeth. I aint never had a bad tooth in my head. Yes'm, I'm
81, going on 82. Marster done wrote my age down in his book where he
kep' the names of all his colored folks. Muh (Mother) belonged to Dr.
Jones but Pappy belonged to Marse Israel Lash over yonder. (Pointing
northwest.) Younguns always went with their mammies so I belonged to the
Joneses.

"Muh and Pappy could visit back and forth sometimes but they never lived
together 'til after freedom. Yes'm, we was happy. We got plenty to eat.
Marster and old Miss Julia (Dr. Jones' wife, matriarch of the whole
plantation) was mighty strict but they was good to us. Colored folks on
some of the other plantations wasn't so lucky. Some of' em had
overseers, mean, cruel men. On one plantation the field hands had to
hustle to git to the end of the row at eleven o'clock dinner-time
'cause when the cooks brought their dinner they had t