to git rations
for de week. Dey gib us three pounds wheat, a peck o meal, a galon o
molasses, two pound o lard, two pound o brown sugar, rice an evy'ting.
I use to have plates an china white folks gib me. White woman come one
day, say she wan buy 'em. Took plum nigh all I had. Did'n pay me much
o nothin' either."

"Yes, Lord. I does 'member 'bout de war. I've see'd de blue an I've
see'd de grey. In 1862 I see'd de soldiers formin' in line. I was a
great big girl. Dem swords glisen' like stars. Can' member whar dey
was goin dat time. But I ain forgit de times soldiers come foragin.
Dey got all dey wanted, too. Hep' dey sef's an dont pay for it, never.
Soldier see a chicken go under de house, he plop down and shoot, and
den call me to crawl under de house and fetch it out." Aunt Mollie
buried her head in her apron again and laughed like a child. "Lordy
how scared I was of de old gander dat blowed at me, whilst I was
tryin' to drag 'em out alive, when I see'd de soldiers comin'."

"Billy Cain, he was brudder-in-law to Old Townslee, who lived on a
plantation in Alabama. How come my mother was give to Cain an come to
Tennessee, was one mornin' Old Townslee rode his horse out under a
tree to blow up de slaves. Blow de horn you know, to call 'em to work.
Somebody shot 'im. Right off his horse. It was so dark, 'fore
daylight, an' couldnt see and dey never did find out who shot 'im.
Heap o white folks had enemies dem days. So de slaves he owned was
divided munxt his chilluns. My mother was one of nine dat come to
Billy Cain dat way."

"Talk 'bout your shootin jest for devilment. Lemme tell you 'bout old
men John Wynn. He live down dar 'bout ten mile from whar Moss lived
when he was a boy. I've heard em tell it many a time. Dey say John
Wynn had 185 slaves. Evy time it come George Washington's birthday,
Old Wynn he had a feast and invite all de slaves! He celebratin! he
say. He seta a long table wid all kind good tings to eat. An he count
de slaves, so's to be sure dey all come. An' den he'd take an pick out
one and shoot him! Den he say, "Now youse all can go 'head an eat.
Throw dat nigger 'side an we bury im in mornin'." And he walks off to
de big house. No! He wasn't drunk. Jes de debil in 'im. Well, he shot
ten, twelve, maybe thirty dat way. An den de white folks hanged 'im to
a tree. Hanged im t'well he was good and dead, dey did."

"Now folkes can 'joy dey victuals wid sech goin's on. De slaves git
so's dey scared to h