"Brown would swim ’bout ’mongst de brush, backerds and for’erds, and terreckly Mr. Beesley tole old Brown, ’Go git him.’ Den all de men got poles and dug ’bout in de raff hunting him. Dey knowed he was dar, en Marse Ike had a pole giggen aroun’ trying to find him too. Den he told Mr. Beesley to give him de hatchet and let him fix he pole. He sharpen de pole right sharp, den Marse Ike start to jug aroun’ wid de pole, and he kinder laugh to hisse’f, ’ca’se he knowed he done found Jim. ’Bout dat time Jim poke he head up and say: ’Dis here me’, and everybody holler. Den he ax ’em please, for God’s sake, don’t let dem dogs git him. Dey told him come on out.
"You see, Jim belonged to Miss Mary Lee, Mr. John Lee’s Ma, and his Pa was kilt in de war, so Mr. Beesley was looking out for her. Well, dey took Jim outer dar, and Mr. Beesley whipped him a little and told him: 'Jim, you put up a pretty good fight and I’s gwine to give you a start for a run wid de dogs.’
"Jim took out towards Miss Mary’s, and Mr. Beesley helt old Brown as long as he could. Dey caught Jim and bit him right smart. You see dey had to let em bite him a little to satisfy de dogs. Jim could have made it, ’cept he was all hot and wore out.
"Dat’s ’bout all I knows, ’cept us belonged to Marse Ike Horn, and fust us belonged to Mr. Price Williams, what run de hotel in Livingston. He took my gran’ma to Mobile, den he died. Us Ma belonged to dey two chillun, Miss Nancy Gulley, Mr. Jake’s wife, en Miss Burt Blakeney. Marse Ike Horn was dey uncle, and us all come ’round to him, and us been here ever since. My mammy was Ann Campbell, and my pappy was John Horn, and us ain’t never had no trouble wid nobody ’bout nothing.
"We’s having a barbecue on de fo’th of July and us wants you to come down to it, if Alice gits along well, and I’s gwine tell you ’bout Rod and Big John, and John Graverson when dey runned away and about how old man Jim Devers, Alice’s step-pa, hid em in de cave under he house whar dey had as nice hams as I ever et, co’se a little tainted, but sho was good. Dem niggers was fat as beavers, jes’ settin’ dar eatin’ dat meat.
"And ’bout de time Marse Ike slip up on a heap of niggers at a frolic 'twixt Sumterville and Livingston and put a end to de frolic. De niggers having a big dance, and Marse Ike and de patterrollers having a big run, said dey wanted to have some fun, and dey did. Said he eased up on ’em wid a white sheet ’round him and a big brush in he hand, and somehow or 'nother, dey didn’t see him tell he spoke. Den he holler ’By God, I’m bird-blinding,’ and he say dem niggers tore down dem dirt chimleys and run t’rough dat house. He say he ain’t never heerd sich a fuss in a corn field in his born days. What he mean ’bout bird-blindin’? When you goes in de canebrake it so thick, you takes a light to shine de bird’s eyes and blind ’em, den you kin ketch ’em. Dat what he call bird-blindin’. Yassum, Marse Ike in dat too. He couldn’t stand for ’em to have no fun 'thout he in it.