I was weak allus.

'T got so that th' noise o' th' looms went on in my head night 'n' day,--allus thud, thud.

'N' hot days, when th' hands was chaffin' 'n' singin', th' black wheels 'n' rollers was alive, starin' down at me, 'n' th' shadders o' th' looms was like snakes creepin',--creepin' anear all th' time.

They was very good to me, th' hands was,--very good.

Ther' 's lots o' th' Master's people down there, though they never heard His name: preachers don't go there.