an' me
on de porch is still standin', yes sir, and dey are livin' in it now. It
belongs to Ralph Crowder, and he has a fellow by de name o' Edward, a
colored man, livin' dere now. De house is de udder side o' Swift Creek,
right at Rands Mill. I belonged ter ole man William Crowder durin'
slavery, Tom Crowder's daddy. Ralph is Tom's son. My missus wus named
Miss Melvina an' if I lives ter be a hundred years old I will never
forget dem white folks. Yes sir, dey shore wus good ter us. We had good
food, good clothes and a good place ter sleep.

My mother died before de war, but Miss Melvina wus so good ter us we
didn't know so much difference. Mother wus de first person I remember
seein' dead. When she died Miss Melvina, marster's wife, called us
chillun in and says, 'Chillun your mother is dead, but anything in dis
kitchen you wants ter eat go take it, but don't slip nuthin'. If you slip
it you will soon be stealin' things.' I had four brothers and one
sister, and none of us never got into trouble 'bout stealin'. She taught
us ter let other people's things alone.

My father wus named Waddy Crowder. My mother wus named Neelie Crowder.
Grandpa was named Jacob Crowder and grandma was named Sylvia Crowder. I
know dem jist as good as if it wus yisterday.

Never went ter school a day in my life. I can't read an' write. Dey
would not 'low slaves ter have books, no sir reee, no, dat dey wouldn't.
We went wid de white folks to church; dey were good ter us, dat's de
truth. Dere aint many people dat knows 'bout dem good times. Dey had a
lot o' big dinners and when de white folks got through I would go up and
eat all I wanted.

I 'member choppin' cotton on Clabber branch when I wus a little boy
before de surrender. When de surrender come I didn't like it. Daddy an'
de udders didn't like it, 'cause after de surrender dey had to pay
marster fer de meat an' things. Before dat dey didn't have nuthin' to do
but work. Dere were eight slaves on de place in slavery time. Clabber
branch run into Swift Creek. Lord have mercy, I have caught many a fish
on dat branch. I also piled brush in de winter time. Birds went in de
brush ter roost. Den we went bird blindin'. We had torches made o'
lightwood splinters, and brushes in our han's, we hit de piles o' brush
after we got 'round 'em. When de birds come out we would kill 'em. Dere
were lots o' birds den. We killed' em at night in the sage fields[5]
where broom grass was thick. Dem were de good