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“I tell you de fust thing I ’members, an’ I don’t know whut started it.
One day my mammy done sumpin’ an’ ol’ marster made her pull her dress
down ’roun’ her waist an’ made her lay down ’crost de door. Den he taken
a leather strop an’ whooped her. I ’members dat I started cryin’ an’
Mistus Beckie said, ’Go git dat boy a biskit.’

“I reckerlecks my mammy was a plow han’ an’ she’d go to work soon an’
put me under de shade of a big ol’ post-oak tree. Dere I sat all day,
an’ dat tree was my nurse. It still standin’ dere yit, an’ I won’t let
nobody cut it down.

http://archive.org/stream/slavenarrativesa36020gut/36020-0.txt

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