[Illustration: _Frank Menefee, Opelika, Alabama_]
"On Sunday mornin’ Mistiss would try to teach us niggers de Bible. Den us would go to church at white church an’ sit in de back wid white folks in front. De preacher was Rev’ren Frank Hugely. Dat Sunday mornin’ breakfast sho’ was good to us niggers. Us had meat, sugar, lard an’ butter. I used to love to hear dem sing. When My Soul Be Resting in de Presence of My Lord, I’ll Be Satisfied. I was baptized at eleven o’clock by Dave Hill an’ I sho’ got happy. I shouted an’ sung: ’I’se never drunk no whiskey in my life.’ When any of de niggers would pass on, old Mistiss would stand over de casket and weep. Us would pull off our hats an’ marsa was nice as he could be, too. Hit was a home-made box dyed black. Mistiss she would see to de fixin’ of de shroud.
"De patrollers sho’ would get you an’ dat’s one thing made you stick to your wuk.
"On Sadday nights us would frolic an’ dance all night long iffen you wanted to, buck-dance, sixteen-hand reel and cake walk. Dey would blow reed quills an’ have all the licker dey wanted. Mistiss, dey ain’t jes’ now drinkin’ licker. Oh, dem cornshuckings! Shuk corn, drink an’ holler all night long. Sometimes dey’d sing:
Dark cloud arising like gwine to rain, Nothing but a black gal coming down the lane, Nigger stole a pumkin an’ started outer town; Nigger heered it thunder, Lord, an’ throwed dat pumkin down.
"Mistiss, I don’t wanter tell you no mo’ of dat.
"When us niggers ma’ied, dey didn’t have no preacher. We jes’ jumped over de broom, an’ went on an’ lived together. Iffen a gal went wrong, dey beat her nearly to death. Iffen you moved de place when you ma’ied, de other marsa had to buy you.
"De li’l niggers had big times. Us used to play, ’Green grow the willow tree, you swing my gal an’ I swing yourn. Green grow de willow tree.’ Dey used to sceer up us niggers ’bout "Raw Head an’ Bloody Bones," gwine to ketch us dat was so sceer bad iffen us didn’t mind ’em, but I ain’t never seed nor believed in ghostes. Us didn’t get sick much ’caze us didn’t have no trash to eat an’ Mistiss giv’ us ebony of yarbs an’ us wore sacks of yarbs ’roun’ our necks too.
"The Yankees did plenty of harm. Marsa shot at some of dem; an’ dey took off our cabin wagons. When us was freed dey singed, ’I’se gwine back to Dixie, no more my heart to wander, never see my master no mo’.’