d!'"

The old negro's quavery voice rose in the familiar song. For a moment he
sat thinking of those long-ago Sundays. His eyes brightened again, and
he went on:

"We never done no wuk on Sundays on our plantation. The church was 'bout
nine miles from the plantation and we all walked there. Anybody too old
and feeble to walk the nine miles jus' stayed home, kazen Marster didn't
'low his mules used none on Sunday. All along the way niggers from other
plantations 'ud jine us and sometimes befo' we git to the church house
they'd be forty or fifty slaves comin' along the road in a crowd!
Preaching generally lasted twel bout three o'clock. In summertime we had
dinner on the ground at the church. Howsomever we didn' have no barbecue
like they does now. Everybody cooked enough on Sadday and fotched it in
baskets.

"I was thirty years old when I jined the church. Nobody ought to jine no
church twels't he is truly borned of God, and effen he is truly borned
of God he gwine know it. Effen you want a restin' place atter you leaves
this old world you ought to git ready for it now!

"When folkses on our plantation died Marster allus let many of us as
wanted to go, lay offen wuk twel atter the buryin'. Sometimes it were
two or three months atter the buryin' befo' the funeral sermon was
preached. Right now I can't rekelleck no song we sung at funerals cep'n
'Hark from the tombs a doleful sound.'"

The reedy old voice carried the funeral hymn for a few minutes and then
trailed off. James was thinking back into the past again.

"Spring plowin' and hoein' times we wukked all day Saddays, but mos'en
generally we laid off wuk at twelve o'clock Sadday. That was dinnertime.
Sadday nights we played and danced. Sometimes in the cabins, sometimes
in the yards. Effen we didn' have a big stack of fat kindling wood lit
up to dance by, sometimes the mens and 'omans would carry torches of
kindling wood whils't they danced and it sho' was a sight to see! We
danced the 'Turkey Trot' and 'Buzzard Lope', and how we did love to
dance the 'Mary Jane!' We would git in a ring and when the music started
we would begin wukkin' our footses while we sang 'You steal my true love
and I steal your'n!'

"Atter supper we used to gether round and knock tin buckets and pans, we
beat 'em like drums. Some used they fingers and some used sticks for to
make the drum sounds and somebody allus blowed on quills. Quills was a
row of whistles made outen reeds, or somet