For we were little Christian children, and had early been taught the value of forbidden fruit.
In the little log cabin lived a bedridden white-headed slave woman whom we visited daily, and looked upon with awe, for we believed she was upwards of a thousand years old and had talked with Moses.

The younger negroes credited these statistics, and had furnished them to us in good faith.

We accommodated all the details which came to us about her; and so we believed that she had lost her health in the long desert trip coming out of Egypt, and had never been able to get it back again.

She had a round bald place on the crown of her head, and we used to creep around and gaze at it in reverent silence, and reflect that it was caused by fright through seeing Pharaoh drowned.

We called her "Aunt" Hannah, Southern fashion.