The Birmingham age-herald., 1922-04-14


 expense and great deal more con- venience. Everything like blows, hoes, rakes, can be made and re- paired or sharpened in this little shop.
 It is a wonderful scene to sit in the evening and watch the old darkies unhitch their mules from the blows and wagons; to see the mules wallow around in the beds of white sand, and then run for their stables. where they are watered and fed for the night The old darkies then go about the other tasks of the evening Some of the negroes can remember and relate tales of the old war days.
 Cotton Fields
 In cotton picking time, the fields in the rear of the house are all snow white. with here and there an oc- easional touch of black. indicating that the dusky negroes are hard at work with their picking.
 Another thing which was so in- teresting to me, was an old negro nanny, who was perhaps more than so years old, no one knows, but even at that she was one of the hardest workers on the farm, as she did all of the cooking-and such cooking ss she could do-and other tasks around the house. In cotton pick ing time she was always in the fields part of the day helping pick cotton.
 Old Aunt Jane, however, was half witted. which made things all the merrier for us kids, because we de- lighted in listening to the odd stories of how many thousands of years old she was and her imagination of how the "pearly gates" would look.
 Ana Aunt Jane
 o1ntharp darkipS Aunt Jane delighted in her snuff. To be friends with her for life all one had to do was carry her a box or two of snuff. A wonderful quilt maker, too She has made beauti- full quilts from scraps of cloth dif- ferent persons have sent her.
 Then, of course, there are the goats, bees, cows, hogs, chickens, ducks and numerous other things which make the farm to be so fondly remembered.
 But best of all-way off down to the left near the farthest fence, more than a mile from the house, Is spot which Is dear to the child hood of all those who have lived cn tarm-the watermelon patch. Many are the times I have slipped a knife into my trousers pocket and stolen off down through the corn rows, to hide from view the direction in which I was going, and run until I was in the middle of an enormous catch of great big melons. Then, by ..thumping" around until I could find one that I was positive was nice and ripe. l would cut off the stem pick up the melon, jump over the fence and go down through the woods to a branch, where probably the day before l had placed one maybe a little larger, and covered it over with pine straw.
 Had Prepared One
 Exchanging the melons was only the matter of a few seconds, when your mouth was watering for the taste of a big, juicy piece, which was icy cold from the cool water running over 1t during the night.
 Sometimes, though, disappointment awaited me. when I would find sorne one's stray pig had eaten the heart out of my watermelon. This meant none for me, for who would enjoy it unless it was nice and cold?
 Lots of times have I gone home with a pain somewhere I couldn't exactly locate, caused from eating too much melon.
 It was always with sadness In my heart I had to bid farewell to my cousins, who had been so good and generous, and had done all they could to make my visit most enjoyable.
 Their last words, before I left. all ways were: You are always well come, and we want you to come back next year, if not sooner"