"And one uv Ole Marsa’s niggers—’little boy’ he go by—he tuck on might’ly, ’case dey say he wanted to marry Tishie. I know he fotch her up in de quarter fer ter git her sumpin’ to eat atter de white folks done sleep. But couldn’t nobody marry, ’twa’n’t ’lowed, ’outer one or t’other uv de Ole Marsa ’greed to buy bofe uv ’em and ef dey didn’t 'gree you sho’ better keep ’way fum dey place. And Ole Marsa and Miss Mollie didn’t nebber ’gree.
"I hear some uv ’em say one dem Patterrollers had ’bout three sets er cullud chillun over dere, and some uv ’em favor’d Tishie, and ev’y time hit come time fer ’em yaller gals ter work in de fiel’, dey got sarnt Norf. I reckon ’case he never wanted see his own blood git beat up, and dat Jim Barton was er cru’l overseer, sho’s yer bawn.
"’Twas a heap of dem yaller gals got sarnt Norf frum ’roun’ here sho’ was."
Martha says most of the meaness of pre-war days on the plantations may be charged up to cruel overseers.
"Ole Marsa’s wife’s sister had a husband whut kep’ de meanest overseer durin’ de war dat I ever is seed," she declares. "Dat man would make ’em niggers on de plantation plow up a gre’t big fiel’ big as all over yonder and den check hit fer corn. And checkin’ corn in runnin’ a straight row clean ’cross de fiel’ bofe ways, and hit make a check ’bout two feet square. Den he’d make de niggers drap a grain uv corn right in de middle uv ev’y check, and ef hit didn’t come up straight as deese here fingers on my han’, he’d snatch hit up and make ’em eat hit right den and dere, stalk and all ’thout ever bilin’ hit a anything. And that’ll mighty ne’r th’ow you in de middle uv a spell uv sickness sho’s yo’ bawn.
"But dat didn’t make no diffe’ns to dat man. And stidder dat, he’d nigh 'bout beat ’em ter deaf ef dey ’sputed his word ’bout hit, but den dey didn’t ’spute, ’case dey was so skeered when dey drappin’ hit dat hit ain’t gwinter come up straight lack he say, dat dey couldn’t drap hit good as dey could uv drapped hit. ’Case dey so skeered dey couldn’t.
"Dem niggers jes’ natchelly shuck lack dey havin’ de black ague chill soon as dey heered him a-comin’. And when de Patterroles tole him de niggers was a-risin’, ’case dey foun’ papers ’bout in de cabins, he nigh 'bout kilt ’em. Some of dem niggers run ’way down in de woods lack deers and clam’ up in de trees, ’case he sot dogs on ’em and some uv ’em stayed in a cave in de clay bank and tuck to comin’ up to us house nights after vittles. And dat overseer man would send ’em Patterrollers jes’ lack dey was de sher’f down to fotch ’em back, and he’d say, ’Dead or alive, doan’ make no diffe’nce.’ And sometimes dem dogs be done nigh 'bout chewed dem niggers up. Den he’d whoop ’em sho’ ’nuff.