When just a very small boy, my Ma would say to us children in the late evening,  "Children, if you will go to the corn crib and get me some corn to feed the chickens and I've got one left over a certain number, I will kill it for supper."    It would be sundown. We would not trust her to do all the counting, so we would try and help her. We would count chickens until dark. Finally, Ma would say,  "Boys, catch this one. It makes me one over my number."  

     My Ma tried to be just like on of the kiddies. She would play with us and keep us in suspense. She would keep us counting chickens till I thought we would never get one chicken counted out. One had to be counted out of his life so we could have a feast. We boys had the fun of running the old hen down and by the time Ma got the hen cooked, it would be sure enough late. At supper Ma would tell us kids ghost stories to keep us all awake. Of course, this would always be a time when Pa would be off with his sorghum mill, for he always wanted his meals on time.

A WONDERFUL MOTHER

     My Ma was a wonderful mother. She would play with us and tell us bedtime stories, but if one of us kiddies got hurt, she would laugh. Unless we were pretty badly hurt, of course.

HOME REMEDIES WORKED

     One evening Ma told Morris to go out to the chicken house and catch her two frying size chickens. Well, we went in and scared them, so that they would fly off their roost. We tried to run them down. I was running one through a weed patch when I jumped on an old stone jar and cut my right foot half in two! This was one time my Ma did not laugh. I was about ten years old, and Pa was not home. Ma went for a neighbor to come and try to stop the bleeding. No one thought of a doctor. Ma did the doctoring on my foot with home remedies. She bound my foot up in soot from our old cook stove. After so long, Pa sent me to see 

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