the handsome and deformed leg_百度文库
两大类热门资源免费畅读
续费一年阅读会员，立省24元！
the handsome and deformed leg
阅读已结束，下载文档到电脑
想免费下载本文？
定制HR最喜欢的简历
你可能喜欢国芳多语对照文库：[英汉对照]《汤姆叔叔的小屋》（斯托夫人） Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe
&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&& &&&&&
欢&& 迎&& 访 & 问& 谢& 国& 芳 （Roy&
Xie）&的& 个& 人& 主& 页 && &&
&&&&&& &&& &&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&
Welcome to Roy Xie's Homepage
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& ——&
Reading Method）
和& （Decode-Reading
Method）训练范文
解密目标语言：英语&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& 解密辅助语言：汉语
&&&&&&&&&&&&& Language to be decoded:& English&&&&&&&&&&&& Auxiliary Language :&
解密文本：&&&& 《汤姆叔叔的小屋》
&&[美] 斯托夫人 &著&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&& &&&
普通版（General
In Which the Reader Is Introduced to a Man of
Late in the afternoon of a
chilly day in February, two gentlemen were sitting
alone over their wine, in a well-furnished dining
parlor, in the town of P——, in Kentucky. There were
no servants present, and the gentlemen, with chairs
closely approaching, seemed to be discussing some
subject with great earnestness.
For convenience sake, we have
said, hitherto, two gentlemen. One of the
parties, however, when critically examined, did not
seem, strictly speaking, to come under the species.
He was a short, thick-set man, with coarse,
commonplace features, and that swaggering air of
pretension which marks a low man who is trying to
elbow his way upward in the world. He was much
over-dressed, in a gaudy vest of many colors, a blue
neckerchief, bedropped gayly with yellow spots, and
arranged with a flaunting tie, quite in keeping with
the general air of the man. His hands, large and
coarse, were plentifully and he
wore a heavy gold watch-chain, with a bundle of
seals of portentous size, and a great variety of
colors, attached to it,—which, in the ardor of
conversation, he was in the habit of flourishing and
jingling with evident satisfaction. His conversation
was in free and easy defiance of Murray's Grammar,*
and was garnished at convenient intervals with
various profane expressions, which not even the
desire to be graphic in our account shall induce us
to transcribe.
* English Grammar (1795), by Lindley Murray (), the
most authoritative American grammarian of his day.
His companion, Mr. Shelby, had
the appea and the arrangements
of the house, and the general air of the
housekeeping, indicated easy, and even opulent
circumstances. As we before stated, the two were in
the midst of an earnest conversation.
&That is the way I should
arrange the matter,& said Mr. Shelby.
&I can't make trade that way—I
positively can't, Mr. Shelby,& said the other,
holding up a glass of wine between his eye and the
&Why, the fact is, Haley, Tom is
he is certainly worth that sum
anywhere,—steady, honest, capable, manages my whole
farm like a clock.&
&You mean honest, as niggers
go,& said Haley, helping himself to a glass of
&No; I mean, really, Tom is a
good, steady, sensible, pious fellow. He got
religion at a camp-meeting, and I
believe he really did get it. I've trusted
him, since then, with everything I have,—money,
house, horses,—and let him come and go round the
and I always found him true and square in
everything.&
&Some folks don't believe there
is pious niggers Shelby,& said Haley, with a candid
flourish of his hand, &but I do. I had a
fellow, now, in this yer last lot I took to
Orleans—'t was as good as a meetin, now, really, to
he and he was quite gentle and
quiet like. He fetched me a good sum, too, for I
bought him cheap of a man that was 'bliged to sell
so I realized six hundred on him. Yes, I
consider religion a valeyable thing in a nigger,
when it's the genuine article, and no mistake.&
&Well, Tom's got the real
article, if ever a fellow had,& rejoined the other.
&Why, last fall, I let him go to Cincinnati alone,
to do business for me, and bring home five hundred
dollars. 'Tom,' says I to him, 'I trust you, because
I think you're a Christian—I know you wouldn't
cheat.' Tom comes back, I knew he
would. Some low fellows, they say, said to him—Tom,
why don't you make tracks for Canada?' 'Ah, master
trusted me, and I couldn't,'—they told me about it.
I am sorry to part with Tom, I must say. You ought
to let him cover the whole and
you would, Haley, if you had any conscience.&
&Well, I've got just as much
conscience as any man in business can afford to
keep,—just a little, you know, to swear by, as 't
were,& said the trader, &and, then, I'm
ready to do anything in reason to '
but this yer, you see, is a leetle too hard on a
fellow—a leetle too hard.& The trader sighed
contemplatively, and poured out some more brandy.
&Well, then, Haley, how will you
trade?& said Mr. Shelby, after an uneasy interval of
&Well, haven't you a boy or gal
that you could throw in with Tom?&
&Hum!—none that I could well
to tell the truth, it's only hard necessity
makes me willing to sell at all. I don't like
parting with any of my hands, that's a fact.&
Here the door opened, and a
small quadroon boy, between four and five years of
age, entered the room. There was something in his
appearance remarkably beautiful and engaging. His
black hair, fine as floss silk, hung in glossy curls
about his round, dimpled face, while a pair of large
dark eyes, full of fire and softness, looked out
from beneath the rich, long lashes, as he peered
curiously into the apartment. A gay robe of scarlet
and yellow plaid, carefully made and neatly fitted,
set off to advantage the dark and rich style of his
and a certain comic air of assurance,
blended with bashfulness, showed that he had been
not unused to being petted and noticed by his
&Hulloa, Jim Crow!& said Mr.
Shelby, whistling, and snapping a bunch of raisins
towards him, &pick that up, now!&
The child scampered, with all
his little strength, after the prize, while his
master laughed.
&Come here, Jim Crow,& said he.
The child came up, and the master patted the curly
head, and chucked him under the chin.
&Now, Jim, show this gentleman
how you can dance and sing.& The boy commenced one
of those wild, grotesque songs common among the
negroes, in a rich, clear voice, accompanying his
singing with many comic evolutions of the hands,
feet, and whole body, all in perfect time to the
&Bravo!& said Haley, throwing
him a quarter of an orange.
&Now, Jim, walk like old Uncle
Cudjoe, when he has the rheumatism,& said his
Instantly the flexible limbs of
the child assumed the appearance of deformity and
distortion, as, with his back humped up, and his
master's stick in his hand, he hobbled about the
room, his childish face drawn into a doleful pucker,
and spitting from right to left, in imitation of an
Both gentlemen laughed
uproariously.
&Now, Jim,& said his master,
&show us how old Elder Robbins leads the psalm.& The
boy drew his chubby face down to a formidable
length, and commenced toning a psalm tune through
his nose, with imperturbable gravity.
&Hurrah! bravo! what a young
'un!& said H &that chap's a case, I'll promise.
Tell you what,& said he, suddenly clapping his hand
on Mr. Shelby's shoulder, &fling in that chap, and
I'll settle the business—I will. Come, now, if that
ain't doing the thing up about the rightest!&
At this moment, the door was
pushed gently open, and a young quadroon woman,
apparently about twenty-five, entered the room.
There needed only a glance from
the child to her, to identify her as its mother.
There was the same rich, full, dark eye, with its
the same ripples of silky black hair.
The brown of her complexion gave way on the cheek to
a perceptible flush, which deepened as she saw the
gaze of the strange man fixed upon her in bold and
undisguised admiration. Her dress was of the neatest
possible fit, and set off to advantage her finely
—a delicately formed hand and a trim
foot and ankle were items of appearance that did not
escape the quick eye of the trader, well used to run
up at a glance the points of a fine female article.
&Well, Eliza?& said her master,
as she stopped and looked hesitatingly at him.
&I was looking for Harry,
please,& and the boy bounded toward her,
showing his spoils, which he had gathered in the
skirt of his robe.
&Well, take him away then,& said
Mr. S and hastily she withdrew, carrying the
child on her arm.
&By Jupiter,& said the trader,
turning to him in admiration, &there's an article,
now! You might make your fortune on that ar gal in
Orleans, any day. I've seen over a thousand, in my
day, paid down for gals not a bit handsomer.&
&I don't want to make my fortune
on her,& said Mr. Shelby, and, seeking to
turn the conversation, he uncorked a bottle of fresh
wine, and asked his companion's opinion of it.
&Capital, sir,—first chop!& said
then turning, and slapping his hand
familiarly on Shelby's shoulder, he added—
&Come, how will you trade about
the gal?—what shall I say for her—what'll you take?&
&Mr. Haley, she is not to be
sold,& said Shelby. &My wife would not part with her
for her weight in gold.&
&Ay, ay! women always say such
things, cause they ha'nt no sort of calculation.
Just show 'em how many watches, feathers, and
trinkets, one's weight in gold would buy, and that
alters the case, I reckon.&
&I tell you, Haley, this must
I say no, and I mean no,& said
Shelby, decidedly.
&Well, you'll let me have the
boy, though,& &you must own I've
come down pretty handsomely for him.&
&What on earth can you want with
the child?& said Shelby.
&Why, I've got a friend that's
going into this yer branch of the business—wants to
buy up handsome boys to raise for the market. Fancy
articles entirely—sell for waiters, and so on, to
rich 'uns, that can pay for handsome 'uns. It sets
off one of yer great places—a real handsome boy to
open door, wait, and tend. T
and this little devil is such a comical, musical
concern, he's just the article!'
&I would rather not sell him,&
said Mr. Shelby, &the fact is, sir,
I'm a humane man, and I hate to take the boy from
his mother, sir.&
&O, you do?—La! yes—something of
that ar natur. I understand, perfectly. It is mighty
onpleasant getting on with women, sometimes, I
al'ays hates these yer screechin,' screamin' times.
They are mighty but, as I manages
business, I generally avoids 'em, sir. Now, what if
you get the girl off for a day, or a week,
then the thing's done quietly,—all over before she
comes home. Your wife might get her some ear-rings,
or a new gown, or some such truck, to make up with
&I'm afraid not.&
&Lor bless ye, yes! These
critters ain't like white folks, they gets
over things, only manage right. Now, they say,& said
Haley, assuming a candid and confidential air, &that
this kind o' trade is harde but
I never found it so. Fact is, I never could do
things up the way some fellers manage the business.
I've seen 'em as would pull a woman's child out of
her arms, and set him up to sell, and she screechin'
l—very bad policy—damages the
article—makes 'em quite unfit for service sometimes.
I knew a real handsome gal once, in Orleans, as was
entirely ruined by this sort o' handling. The fellow
that was trading for her didn' and
she was one of your real high sort, when her blood
was up. I tell you, she squeezed up her child in her
arms, and talked, and went on real awful. It kinder
makes my blood run cold to think of 't; and when
they carried off the child, and locked her up, she
jest went ravin' mad, and died in a week. Clear
waste, sir, of a thousand dollars, just for want of
management,—there's where 't is. It's always best to
do the humane thing, that's been my
experience.& And the trader leaned back in his
chair, and folded his arm, with an air of virtuous
decision, apparently considering himself a second
Wilberforce.
The subject appeared to interest
for while Mr. Shelby was
thoughtfully peeling an orange, Haley broke out
afresh, with becoming diffidence, but as if actually
driven by the force of truth to say a few words
&It don't look well, now, for a
feller to be praisin' but I say it jest
because it's the truth. I believe I'm reckoned to
bring in about the finest droves of niggers that is
brought in,—at least, I' if I have
once, I reckon I have a hundred times,—all in good
case,—fat and likely, and I lose as few as any man
in the business. And I lays it all to my management,
and humanity, sir, I may say, is the great
pillar of my management.&
Mr. Shelby did not know what to
say, and so he said, &Indeed!&
&Now, I've been laughed at for
my notions, sir, and I've been talked to. They an't
pop'lar, and they an' but I stuck to 'em,
I've stuck to 'em, and realized well on '
yes, sir, they have paid their passage, I may say,&
and the trader laughed at his joke.
There was something so piquant
and original in these elucidations of humanity, that
Mr. Shelby could not help laughing in company.
Perhaps you laugh too, but you know
humanity comes out in a variety of strange forms
now-a-days, and there is no end to the odd things
that humane people will say and do.
Mr. Shelby's laugh encouraged
the trader to proceed.
&It's strange, now, but I never
could beat this into people's heads. Now, there was
Tom Loker, my old partner, down in N he was a
clever fellow, Tom was, only the very devil with
niggers,—on principle 't was, you see, for a better
hearted fell 't was his
system, sir. I used to talk to Tom. 'Why, Tom,'
I used to say, 'when your gals takes on and cry,
what's the use o' crackin on' em over the head, and
knockin' on 'em round? It's ridiculous,' says I,
'and don't do no sort o' good. Why, I don't see no
harm in their cryin',' says I; 'it's natur,' says I,
'and if natur can't blow off one way, it will
another. Besides, Tom,' says I, 'it jest spiles your
they get sickly, a and
sometimes they gets ugly,—particular yallow gals
do,—and it's the devil and all gettin' on 'em broke
in. Now,' says I, 'why can't you kinder coax 'em up,
and speak 'em fair? Depend on it, Tom, a little
humanity, thrown in along, goes a heap further than
all your jawin' and crackin'; and it pays better,'
says I, 'depend on 't.' But Tom couldn't get the
hang on 't; and he spiled so many for me, that I had
to break off with him, though he was a good-hearted
fellow, and as fair a business hand as is goin'.&
&And do you find your ways of
managing do the business better than Tom's?& said
Mr. Shelby.
&Why, yes, sir, I may say so.
You see, when I any ways can, I takes a leetle care
about the onpleasant parts, like selling young uns
and that,—get the gals out of the way—out of sight,
out of mind, you know,—and when it's clean done, and
can't be helped, they naturally gets used to it.
'Tan't, you know, as if it was white folks, that's
brought up in the way of 'spectin' to keep their
children and wives, and all that. Niggers, you know,
that's fetched up properly, ha'n't no kind of
'sp so all these things comes
&I'm afraid mine are not
properly brought up, then,& said Mr. Shelby.
&S' you Kentucky folks
spile your niggers. You mean well by 'em, but 'tan't
no real kindness, arter all. Now, a nigger, you see,
what's got to be hacked and tumbled round the world,
and sold to Tom, and Dick, and the Lord knows who,
'tan't no kindness to be givin' on him notions and
expectations, and bringin' on him up too well, for
the rough and tumble comes all the harder on him
arter. Now, I venture to say, your niggers would be
quite chop-fallen in a place where some of your
plantation niggers would be singing and whooping
like all possessed. Every man, you know, Mr. Shelby,
naturally thinks
and I think I
treat niggers just about as well as it's ever worth
while to treat 'em.&
&It's a happy thing to be
satisfied,& said Mr. Shelby, with a slight shrug,
and some perceptible feelings of a disagreeable
&Well,& said Haley, after they
had both silently picked their nuts for a season,
&what do you say?&
&I'll think the matter over, and
talk with my wife,& said Mr. Shelby. &Meantime,
Haley, if you want the matter carried on in the
quiet way you speak of, you'd best not let your
business in this neighborhood be known. It will get
out among my boys, and it will not be a particularly
quiet business getting away any of my fellows, if
they know it, I'll promise you.&
&O! certainly, by all means,
mum! of course. But I'll tell you. I'm in a devil of
a hurry, and shall want to know, as soon as
possible, what I may depend on,& said he, rising and
putting on his overcoat.
&Well, call up this evening,
between six and seven, and you shall have my
answer,& said Mr. Shelby, and the trader bowed
himself out of the apartment.
&I'd like to have been able to
kick the fellow down the steps,& said he to himself,
as he saw the door fairly closed, &with his impudent
but he knows how much he has me at
advantage. If anybody had ever said to me that I
should sell Tom down south to one of those rascally
traders, I should have said, 'Is thy servant a dog,
that he should do this thing?' And now it must come,
for aught I see. And Eliza's child, too! I know that
I shall have some fuss
for that matter, about Tom, too. So much for being
in debt,—heigho! The fellow sees his advantage, and
means to push it.&
Perhaps the mildest form of the
system of slavery is to be seen in the State of
Kentucky. The general prevalence of agricultural
pursuits of a quiet and gradual nature, not
requiring those periodic seasons of hurry and
pressure that are called for in the business of more
southern districts, makes the task of the negro a
more healthfu while the master,
content with a more gradual style of acquisition,
has not those temptations to hardheartedness which
always overcome frail human nature when the prospect
of sudden and rapid gain is weighed in the balance,
with no heavier counterpoise than the interests of
the helpless and unprotected.
Whoever visits some estates
there, and witnesses the good-humored indulgence of
some masters and mistresses, and the affectionate
loyalty of some slaves, might be tempted to dream
the oft-fabled poetic legend of a patriarchal
institution, but over and above the
scene there broods a portentous shadow—the shadow of
law. So long as the law considers all these
human beings, with beating hearts and living
affections, only as so many things belonging
to a master,—so long as the failure, or misfortune,
or imprudence, or death of the kindest owner, may
cause them any day to exchange a life of kind
protection and indulgence for one of hopeless misery
and toil,—so long it is impossible to make anything
beautiful or desirable in the best regulated
administration of slavery.
Mr. Shelby was a fair average
kind of man, good-natured and kindly, and disposed
to easy indulgence of those around him, and there
had never been a lack of anything which might
contribute to the physical comfort of the negroes on
his estate. He had, however, speculated largely and
had involved himself deeply, and his
notes to a large amount had come into the hands of
H and this small piece of information is the
key to the preceding conversation.
Now, it had so happened that, in
approaching the door, Eliza had caught enough of the
conversation to know that a trader was making offers
to her master for somebody.
She would gladly have stopped at
the door to listen, but her
mistress just then calling, she was obliged to
hasten away.
Still she thought she heard the
trader make —could she be
mistaken? Her heart swelled and throbbed, and she
involuntarily strained him so tight that the little
fellow looked up into her face in astonishment.
&Eliza, girl, what ails you
today?& said her mistress, when Eliza had upset the
wash-pitcher, knocked down the workstand, and
finally was abstractedly offering her mistress a
long nightgown in place of the silk dress she had
ordered her to bring from the wardrobe.
Eliza started. &O, missis!& she
said, then, bursting into tears,
she sat down in a chair, and began sobbing.
&Why, Eliza child, what ails
you?& said her mistress.
&O! missis, missis,& said Eliza,
&there's been a trader talking with master in the
parlor! I heard him.&
&Well, silly child, suppose
there has.&
&O, missis, do you
suppose mas'r would sell my Harry?& And the poor
creature threw herself into a chair, and sobbed
convulsively.
&Sell him! No, you foolish girl!
You know your master never deals with those southern
traders, and never means to sell any of his
servants, as long as they behave well. Why, you
silly child, who do you think would want to buy your
Harry? Do you think all the world are set on him as
you are, you goosie? Come, cheer up, and hook my
dress. There now, put my back hair up in that pretty
braid you learnt the other day, and don't go
listening at doors any more.&
&Well, but, missis, you
never would give your consent—to—to—&
&Nonsense, child! to be sure, I
shouldn't. What do you talk so for? I would as soon
have one of my own children sold. But really, Eliza,
you are getting altogether too proud of that little
fellow. A man can't put his nose into the door, but
you think he must be coming to buy him.&
Reassured by her mistress'
confident tone, Eliza proceeded nimbly and adroitly
with her toilet, laughing at her own fears, as she
proceeded.
Mrs. Shelby was a woman of high
class, both intellectually and morally. To that
natural magnanimity and generosity of mind which one
often marks as characteristic of the women of
Kentucky, she added high moral and religious
sensibility and principle, carried out with great
energy and ability into practical results. Her
husband, who made no professions to any particular
religious character, nevertheless reverenced and
respected the consistency of hers, and stood,
perhaps, a little in awe of her opinion. Certain it
was that he gave her unlimited scope in all her
benevolent efforts for the comfort, instruction, and
improvement of her servants, though he never took
any decided part in them himself. In fact, if not
exactly a believer in the doctrine of the efficiency
of the extra good works of saints, he really seemed
somehow or other to fancy that his wife had piety
and benevolence enough for two—to indulge a shadowy
expectation of getting into heaven through her
superabundance of qualities to which he made no
particular pretension.
The heaviest load on his mind,
after his conversation with the trader, lay in the
foreseen necessity of breaking to his wife the
arrangement contemplated,—meeting the importunities
and opposition which he knew he should have reason
to encounter.
Mrs. Shelby, being entirely
ignorant of her husband's embarrassments, and
knowing only the general kindliness of his temper,
had been quite sincere in the entire incredulity
with which she had met Eliza's suspicions. In fact,
she dismissed the matter from her mind, without a
and being occupied in preparations
for an evening visit, it passed out of her thoughts
CHAPTER II
The Mother
Eliza had been brought up by her
mistress, from girlhood, as a petted and indulged
The traveller in the south must
often have remarked that peculiar air of refinement,
that softness of voice and manner, which seems in
many cases to be a particular gift to the quadroon
and mulatto women. These natural graces in the
quadroon are often united with beauty of the most
dazzling kind, and in almost every case with a
personal appearance prepossessing and agreeable.
Eliza, such as we have described her, is not a fancy
sketch, but taken from remembrance, as we saw her,
years ago, in Kentucky. Safe under the protecting
care of her mistress, Eliza had reached maturity
without those temptations which make beauty so fatal
an inheritance to a slave. She had been married to a
bright and talented young mulatto man, who was a
slave on a neighboring estate, and bore the name of
George Harris.
This young man had been hired
out by his master to work in a bagging factory,
where his adroitness and ingenuity caused him to be
considered the first hand in the place. He had
invented a machine for the cleaning of the hemp,
which, considering the education and circumstances
of the inventor, displayed quite as much mechanical
genius as Whitney's cotton-gin.*
A machine of this description was really the invention of
a young colored man in Kentucky. [Mrs. Stowe's note.]
He was possessed of a handsome
person and pleasing manners, and was a general
favorite in the factory. Nevertheless, as this young
man was in the eye of the law not a man, but a
thing, all these superior qualifications were
subject to the control of a vulgar, narrow-minded,
tyrannical master. This same gentleman, having heard
of the fame of George's invention, took a ride over
to the factory, to see what this intelligent chattel
had been about. He was received with great
enthusiasm by the employer, who congratulated him on
possessing so valuable a slave.
He was waited upon over the
factory, shown the machinery by George, who, in high
spirits, talked so fluently, held himself so erect,
looked so handsome and manly, that his master began
to feel an uneasy consciousness of inferiority. What
business had his slave to be marching round the
country, inventing machines, and holding up his head
among gentlemen? He'd soon put a stop to it. He'd
take him back, and put him to hoeing and digging,
and &see if he'd step about so smart.& Accordingly,
the manufacturer and all hands concerned were
astounded when he suddenly demanded George's wages,
and announced his intention of taking him home.
&But, Mr. Harris,& remonstrated
the manufacturer, &isn't this rather sudden?&
&What if it is?—isn't the man
&We would be willing, sir, to
increase the rate of compensation.&
&No object at all, sir. I don't
need to hire any of my hands out, unless I've a mind
&But, sir, he seems peculiarly
adapted to this business.&
&D never was
much adapted to anything that I set him about, I'll
be bound.&
&But only think of his inventing
this machine,& interposed one of the workmen, rather
unluckily.
&O yes! a machine for saving
work, is it? He'd invent that, I' let a
nigger alone for that, any time. They are all
labor-saving machines themselves, every one of 'em.
No, he shall tramp!&
George had stood like one
transfixed, at hearing his doom thus suddenly
pronounced by a power that he knew was irresistible.
He folded his arms, tightly pressed in his lips, but
a whole volcano of bitter feelings burned in his
bosom, and sent streams of fire through his veins.
He breathed short, and his large dark eyes flashed
and he might have broken out into
some dangerous ebullition, had not the kindly
manufacturer touched him on the arm, and said, in a
&Give way, G go with him
for the present. We'll try to help you, yet.&
The tyrant observed the whisper,
and conjectured its import, though he could not hear
and he inwardly strengthened himself
in his determination to keep the power he possessed
over his victim.
George was taken home, and put
to the meanest drudgery of the farm. He had been
able to repress ever but the
flashing eye, the gloomy and troubled brow, were
part of a natural language that could not be
repressed,—indubitable signs, which showed too
plainly that the man could not become a thing.
It was during the happy period
of his employment in the factory that George had
seen and married his wife. During that period,—being
much trusted and favored by his employer,—he had
free liberty to come and go at discretion. The
marriage was highly approved of by Mrs. Shelby, who,
with a little womanly complacency in match-making,
felt pleased to unite her handsome favorite with one
of her own class who seemed in every way suited to
and so they were married in her mistress' great
parlor, and her mistress herself adorned the bride's
beautiful hair with orange-blossoms, and threw over
it the bridal veil, which certainly could scarce
have res and there was no lack
of white gloves, and cake and wine,—of admiring
guests to praise the bride's beauty, and her
mistress' indulgence and liberality. For a year or
two Eliza saw her husband frequently, and there was
nothing to interrupt their happiness, except the
loss of two infant children, to whom she was
passionately attached, and whom she mourned with a
grief so intense as to call for gentle remonstrance
from her mistress, who sought, with maternal
anxiety, to direct her naturally passionate feelings
within the bounds of reason and religion.
After the birth of little Harry,
however, she had gradually become tranquillized and
and every bleeding tie and throbbing nerve,
once more entwined with that little life, seemed to
become sound and healthful, and Eliza was a happy
woman up to the time that her husband was rudely
torn from his kind employer, and brought under the
iron sway of his legal owner.
The manufacturer, true to his
word, visited Mr. Harris a week or two after George
had been taken away, when, as he hoped, the heat of
the occasion had passed away, and tried every
possible inducement to lead him to restore him to
his former employment.
&You needn't trouble yourself to
talk any longer,& said he, &I know my own
business, sir.&
&I did not presume to interfere
with it, sir. I only thought that you might think it
for your interest to let your man to us on the terms
proposed.&
&O, I understand the matter well
enough. I saw your winking and whispering, the day I
took hi but you don't come it
over me that way. It's a free country, the
man's mine, and I do what I please with
him,—that's it!&
And so fell George's last
—nothing before him but a life of toil and
drudgery, rendered more bitter by every little
smarting vexation and indignity which tyrannical
ingenuity could devise.
A very humane jurist once said,
The worst use you can put a man to is to hang him.
No; there is another use that a man can be put to
that is WORSE!
CHAPTER III
The Husband and Father
Mrs. Shelby had gone on her
visit, and Eliza stood in the verandah, rather
dejectedly looking after the retreating carriage,
when a hand was laid on her shoulder. She turned,
and a bright smile lighted up her fine eyes.
&George, is it you? How you
frightened me! W I am so glad you 's come!
Missis is gone to so come into
my little room, and we'll have the time all to
ourselves.&
Saying this, she drew him into a
neat little apartment opening on the verandah, where
she generally sat at her sewing, within call of her
&How glad I am!—why don't you
smile?—and look at Harry—how he grows.& The boy
stood shyly regarding his father through his curls,
holding close to the skirts of his mother's dress.
&Isn't he beautiful?& said Eliza, lifting his long
curls and kissing him.
&I wish he'd never been born!&
said George, bitterly. &I wish I'd never been born
Surprised and frightened, Eliza
sat down, leaned her head on her husband's shoulder,
and burst into tears.
&There now, Eliza, it's too bad
for me to make you feel so, poor girl!& said he,
&it's too bad: O, how I wish you never had
seen me—you might have been happy!&
&George! George! how can you
talk so? What dreadful thing has happened, or is
going to happen? I'm sure we've been very happy,
till lately.&
&So we have, dear,& said George.
Then drawing his child on his knee, he gazed
intently on his glorious dark eyes, and passed his
hands through his long curls.
&Just like you, E and you
are the handsomest woman I ever saw, and the best
one I but, oh, I wish I'd never
seen you, nor you me!&
&O, George, how can you!&
&Yes, Eliza, it's all misery,
misery, misery! My life i the
very life is burning out of me. I'm a poor,
miserable, I shall only drag you
down with me, that's all. What's the use of our
trying to do anything, trying to know anything,
trying to be anything? What's the use of living? I
wish I was dead!&
&O, now, dear George, that is
really wicked! I know how you feel about losing your
place in the factory, and yo
but pray be patient, and perhaps something—&
&Patient!& said he, interrupting
&haven't I been patient? Did I say a word when
he came and took me away, for no earthly reason,
from the place where everybody was kind to me? I'd
paid him truly every cent of my earnings,—and they
all say I worked well.&
&Well, it is dreadful,&
said E &but, after all, he is your master, you
&My master! and who made him my
master? That's what I think of—what right has he to
me? I'm a man as much as he is. I'm a better man
than he is. I know more about b
I am a bette I can read better
I can write a better hand,—and I've
learned it all myself, and no thanks to him,—I've
learne and now what right has
he to make a dray-horse of me?—to take me from
things I can do, and do better than he can, and put
me to work that any horse can do? H
he says he'll bring me down and humble me, and he
puts me to just the hardest, meanest and dirtiest
work, on purpose!&
&O, George! George! you frighten
me! Why, I nev I'm afraid
you'll do something dreadful. I don't wonder at your
feelings, but oh, do be careful—do, do—for
my sake—for Harry's!&
&I have been careful, and I have
been patient, but it's gro
flesh and blood can'—every
chance he can get to insult and torment me, he
takes. I thought I could do my work well, and keep
on quiet, and have some time to read and learn out
but the more he see I can do, the
more he loads on. He says that though I don't say
anything, he sees I've got the devil in me, and he
m and one of these days it will
come out in a way that he won't like, or I'm
mistaken!&
&O dear! what shall we do?& said
Eliza, mournfully.
&It was only yesterday,& said
George, &as I was busy loading stones into a cart,
that young Mas'r Tom stood there, slashing his whip
so near the horse that the creature was frightened.
I asked him to stop, as pleasant as I could,—he just
kept right on. I begged him again, and then he
turned on me, and began striking me. I held his
hand, and then he screamed and kicked and ran to his
father, and told him that I was fighting him. He
came in a rage, and said he'd teach me who was my
and he tied me to a tree, and cut switches
for young master, and told him that he might whip me
—and he did do it! If I don't make
him remember it, some time!& and the brow of the
young man grew dark, and his eyes burned with an
expression that made his young wife tremble. &Who
made this man my master? That's what I want to
know!& he said.
&Well,& said Eliza, mournfully,
&I always thought that I must obey my master and
mistress, or I couldn't be a Christian.&
&There is some sense in it, in
they have brought you up like a child,
fed you, clothed you, indulged you, and taught you,
so that you h that is some
reason why they should claim you. But I have been
kicked and cuffed and sworn at, and at the best only
and what do I owe? I've paid for all my
keeping a hundred times over. I won't bear
it. No, I won't!& he said, clenching his hand
with a fierce frown.
Eliza trembled, and was silent.
She had never seen her husband
and her gentle system of ethics seemed to bend like
a reed in the surges of such passions.
&You know poor little Carlo,
that you gave me,& added G &the creature has
been about all the comfort that I've had. He has
slept with me nights, and followed me around days,
and kind o' looked at me as if he understood how I
felt. Well, the other day I was just feeding him
with a few old scraps I picked up by the kitchen
door, and Mas'r came along, and said I was feeding
him up at his expense, and that he couldn't afford
to have every nigger keeping his dog, and ordered me
to tie a stone to his neck and throw him in the
&O, George, you didn't do it!&
&Do it? not I!—but he did. Mas'r
and Tom pelted the poor drowning creature with
stones. Poor thing! he looked at me so mournful, as
if he wondered why I didn't save him. I had to take
a flogging because I wouldn't do it myself. I don't
care. Mas'r will find out that I'm one that whipping
won't tame. My day will come yet, if he don't look
&What are you going to do? O,
George, don' if you only trust
in God, and try to do right, he'll deliver you.&
&I an't a Christian like you,
E my heart' I can't trust
in God. Why does he let things be so?&
&O, George, we must have faith.
Mistress says that when all things go wrong to us,
we must believe that God is doing the very best.&
&That's easy to say for people
that are sitting on their sofas and riding in their
but let 'em be where I am, I guess it
would come some harder. I wish I but
my heart burns, and can't be reconciled, anyhow. You
couldn't in my place,—you can't now, if I tell you
all I've got to say. You don't know the whole yet.&
&What can be coming now?&
&Well, lately Mas'r has been
saying that he was a fool to let me marry off the
that he hates Mr. Shelby and all his tribe,
because they are proud, and hold their heads up
above him, and that I've got pr
and he says he won't let me come here any more, and
that I shall take a wife and settle down on his
place. At first he only scolded and grumbled these
but yesterday he told me that I should take
Mina for a wife, and settle down in a cabin with
her, or he would sell me down river.&
&Why—but you were married to
me, by the minister, as much as if you'd been a
white man!& said Eliza, simply.
&Don't you know a slave can't be
married? There is no law in t I
can't hold you for my wife, if he chooses to part
us. That's why I wish I'd never seen you,—why I wish
I' it would have been better for
us both,—it would have been better for this poor
child if he had never been born. All this may happen
to him yet!&
&O, but master is so kind!&
&Yes, but who knows?—he may
die—and then he may be sold to nobody knows who.
What pleasure is it that he is handsome, and smart,
and bright? I tell you, Eliza, that a sword will
pierce through your soul for every good and pleasant
it will make him worth
too much for you to keep.&
The words smote heavily on
Eliza' the vision of the trader came before
her eyes, and, as if some one had struck her a
deadly blow, she turned pale and gasped for breath.
She looked nervously out on the verandah, where the
boy, tired of the grave conversation, had retired,
and where he was riding triumphantly up and down on
Mr. Shelby's walking-stick. She would have spoken to
tell her husband her fears, but checked herself.
&No, no,—he has enough to bear,
poor fellow!& she thought. &No, I won'
besides, it an' Missis never deceives us.&
&So, Eliza, my girl,& said the
husband, mournfully, &bear up, and good-by, for
I'm going.&
&Going, George! Going where?&
&To Canada,& said he,
stra &and when I'm there, I'll
that's all the hope that's left us. You
have a kind master, that won't refuse to sell you.
I'll—God helping me, I will!&
&O, dreadful! if you should be
&I won't be taken, E I'll
die first! I'll be free, or I'll die!&
&You won't kill yourself!&
&No need of that. They will kill
me, they never will get me down the
river alive!&
&O, George, for my sake, do be
careful! Don' don't lay hands
on yourself, or anybody else! You are tempted too
much— but don't—go you must—but go
carefully, pray God to help you.&
&Well, then, Eliza, hear my
plan. Mas'r took it into his head to send me right
by here, with a note to Mr. Symmes, that lives a
mile past. I believe he expected I should come here
to tell you what I have. It would please him, if he
thought it would aggravate 'Shelby's folks,' as he
calls 'em. I'm going home quite resigned, you
understand, as if all was over. I've got some
preparations made,—and there are those that will
and, in the course of a week or so, I shall
be among the missing, some day. Pray for me, E
perhaps the good Lord will hear you.&
&O, pray yourself, George, and
then you won't do anything
&Well, now, good-by,&
said George, holding Eliza's hands, and gazing into
her eyes, without moving. T then
there were last words, and sobs, and bitter
weeping,—such parting as those may make whose hope
to meet again is as the spider's web,—and the
husband and wife were parted.
CHAPTER IV
An Evening in Uncle Tom's Cabin
The cabin of Uncle Tom was a
small log building, close adjoining to &the house,&
as the negro par excellence designates his
master's dwelling. In front it had a neat
garden-patch, where, every summer, strawberries,
raspberries, and a variety of fruits and vegetables,
flourished under careful tending. The whole front of
it was covered by a large scarlet bignonia and a
native multiflora rose, which, entwisting and
interlacing, left scarce a vestige of the rough logs
to be seen. Here, also, in summer, various brilliant
annuals, such as marigolds, petunias, four-o'clocks,
found an indulgent corner in which to unfold their
splendors, and were the delight and pride of Aunt
Chloe's heart.
Let us enter the dwelling. The
evening meal at the house is over, and Aunt Chloe,
who presided over its preparation as head cook, has
left to inferior officers in the kitchen the
business of clearing away and washing dishes, and
come out into her own snug territories, to &get her
ole man's supper&; therefore, doubt not that it is
her you see by the fire, presiding with anxious
interest over certain frizzling items in a stew-pan,
and anon with grave consideration lifting the cover
of a bake-kettle, from whence steam forth
indubitable intimations of &something good.& A
round, black, shining face is hers, so glossy as to
suggest the idea that she might have been washed
over with white of eggs, like one of her own tea
rusks. Her whole plump countenance beams with
satisfaction and contentment from under her
well-starched checked turban, bearing on it,
however, if we must confess it, a little of that
tinge of self-consciousness which becomes the first
cook of the neighborhood, as Aunt Chloe was
universally held and acknowledged to be.
A cook she certainly was, in the
very bone and centre of her soul. Not a chicken or
turkey or duck in the barn-yard but looked grave
when they saw her approaching, and seemed evidently
to be reflecting and certain it
was that she was always meditating on trussing,
stuffing and roasting, to a degree that was
calculated to inspire terror in any reflecting fowl
living. Her corn-cake, in all its varieties of
hoe-cake, dodgers, muffins, and other species too
numerous to mention, was a sublime mystery to all
less p and she would shake her
fat sides with honest pride and merriment, as she
would narrate the fruitless efforts that one and
another of her compeers had made to attain to her
elevation.
The arrival of company at the
house, the arranging of dinners and suppers &in
style,& awoke all the
sight was more welcome to her than a pile of
travelling trunks launched on the verandah, for then
she foresaw fresh efforts and fresh triumphs.
Just at present, however, Aunt
Chloe is looking into the bake- in which
congenial operation we shall leave her till we
finish our picture of the cottage.
In one corner of it stood a bed,
covered neatly and by the side
of it was a piece of carpeting, of some considerable
size. On this piece of carpeting Aunt Chloe took her
stand, as being decidedly in the upper walks of
and it and the bed by which it lay, and the
whole corner, in fact, were treated with
distinguished consideration, and made, so far as
possible, sacred from the marauding inroads and
desecrations of little folks. In fact, that corner
was the drawing-room of the establishment. In
the other corner was a bed of much humbler
pretensions, and evidently designed for use.
The wall over the fireplace was adorned with some
very brilliant scriptural prints, and a portrait of
General Washington, drawn and colored in a manner
which would certainly have astonished that hero, if
ever he happened to meet with its like.
On a rough bench in the corner,
a couple of woolly-headed boys, with glistening
black eyes and fat shining cheeks, were busy in
superintending the first walking operations of the
baby, which, as is usually the case, consisted in
getting up on its feet, balancing a moment, and then
tumbling down,—each successive failure being
violently cheered, as something decidedly clever.
A table, somewhat rheumatic in
its limbs, was drawn out in front of the fire, and
covered with a cloth, displaying cups and saucers of
a decidedly brilliant pattern, with other symptoms
of an approaching meal. At this table was seated
Uncle Tom, Mr. Shelby's best hand, who, as he is to
be the hero of our story, we must daguerreotype for
our readers. He was a large, broad-chested,
powerfully-made man, of a full glossy black, and a
face whose truly African features were characterized
by an expression of grave and steady good sense,
united with much kindliness and benevolence. There
was something about his whole air self-respecting
and dignified, yet united with a confiding and
humble simplicity.
He was very busily intent at
this moment on a slate lying before him, on which he
was carefully and slowly endeavoring to accomplish a
copy of some letters, in which operation he was
overlooked by young Mas'r George, a smart, bright
boy of thirteen, who appeared fully to realize the
dignity of his position as instructor.
&Not that way, Uncle Tom,—not
that way,& said he, briskly, as Uncle Tom
laboriously brought up the tail of his g the
&that makes a q, you see.&
&La sakes, now, does it?& said
Uncle Tom, looking with a respectful, admiring air,
as his young teacher flourishingly scrawled q's
and g's innumerable and
then, taking the pencil in his big, heavy fingers,
he patiently recommenced.
&How easy white folks al'us does
things!& said Aunt Chloe, pausing while she was
greasing a griddle with a scrap of bacon on her
fork, and regarding young Master George with pride.
&The way he can write, now! and read, too! and then
to come out here evenings and read his lessons to
us,—it's mighty interestin'!&
&But, Aunt Chloe, I'm getting
mighty hungry,& said George. &Isn't that cake in the
skillet almost done?&
&Mose done, Mas'r George,& said
Aunt Chloe, lifting the lid and peeping
in,—&browning beautiful—a real lovely brown. Ah! let
me alone for dat. Missis let Sally try to make some
cake, t' other day, jes to larn her, she
said. 'O, go way, Missis,' said I; 'it really hurts
my feelin's, now, to see good vittles spilt dat ar
way! Cake ris all to one side— no
And with this final expression
of contempt for Sally's greenness, Aunt Chloe
whipped the cover off the bake-kettle, and disclosed
to view a neatly-baked pound-cake, of which no city
confectioner need to have been ashamed. This being
evidently the central point of the entertainment,
Aunt Chloe began now to bustle about earnestly in
the supper department.
&Here you, Mose and Pete! get
out de way, you niggers! Get away, Polly,
honey,—mammy'll give her baby some fin, by and by.
Now, Mas'r George, you jest take off dem books, and
set down now with my old man, and I'll take up de
sausages, and have de first griddle full of cakes on
your plates in less dan no time.&
&They wanted me to come to
supper in the house,& said G &but I knew what
was what too well for that, Aunt Chloe.&
&So you did—so you did, honey,&
said Aunt Chloe, heaping the smoking batter-cakes on
&you know'd your old aunty'd keep the
best for you. O, let you alone for dat! Go way!&
And, with that, aunty gave George a nudge with her
finger, designed to be immensely facetious, and
turned again to her griddle with great briskness.
&Now for the cake,& said Mas'r
George, when the activity of the griddle department
h and, with that, the youngster
flourished a large knife over the article in
&La bless you, Mas'r George!&
said Aunt Chloe, with earnestness, catching his arm,
&you wouldn't be for cuttin' it wid dat ar great
heavy knife! Smash all down—spile all de pretty rise
of it. Here, I've got a thin old knife, I keeps
sharp a purpose. Dar now, see! comes apart light as
a feather! Now eat away—you won't get anything to
beat dat ar.&
&Tom Lincon says,& said George,
speaking with his mouth full, &that their Jinny is a
better cook than you.&
&Dem Lincons an't much count, no
way!& said Aunt Chloe, &I mean, set
along side our folks. They 's 'spectable
folks enough i but, as to
gettin' up anything in style, they don't begin to
have a notion on 't. Set Mas'r Lincon, now,
alongside Mas'r Shelby! Good Lor! and Missis
Lincon,—can she kinder sweep it into a room like my
missis,—so kinder splendid, yer know! O, go way!
don't tell me nothin' of dem Lincons!&—and Aunt
Chloe tossed her head as one who hoped she did know
something of the world.
&Well, though, I've heard you
say,& said George, &that Jinny was a pretty fair
&So I did,& said Aunt Chloe,—&I
may say dat. Good, plain, common cookin', Jinny'll
—make a good pone o' bread,—bile her taters
far,—her corn cakes isn't extra, not extra now,
Jinny's corn cakes isn't, but then they's far,—but,
Lor, come to de higher branches, and what can
she do? Why, she makes pies— but
what kinder crust? Can she make your real flecky
paste, as melts in your mouth, and lies all up like
a puff? Now, I went over thar when Miss Mary was
gwine to be married, and Jinny she jest showed me de
weddin' pies. Jinny and I is good friends, ye know.
I never said nothin'; but go 'long, Mas'r George!
Why, I shouldn't sleep a wink for a week, if I had a
batch of pies like dem ar. Why, dey wan't no 'count
&I suppose Jinny thought they
were ever so nice,& said George.
&Thought so!—didn't she? Thar
she was, showing em, as innocent—ye see, it's jest
here, Jinny don't know. Lor, the family an't
nothing! She can't be spected to know! 'Ta'nt no
fault o' hem. Ah, Mas'r George, you doesn't know
half 'your privileges in yer family and bringin'
up!& Here Aunt Chloe sighed, and rolled up her eyes
with emotion.
&I'm sure, Aunt Chloe, I
understand my pie and pudding privileges,& said
George. &Ask Tom Lincon if I don't crow over him,
every time I meet him.&
Aunt Chloe sat back in her
chair, and indulged in a hearty guffaw of laughter,
at this witticism of young Mas'r's, laughing till
the tears rolled down her black, shining cheeks, and
varying the exercise with playfully slapping and
poking Mas'r Georgey, and telling him to go way, and
that he was a case—that he was fit to kill her, and
that he sartin would kill her,
and, between each of these sanguinary predictions,
going off into a laugh, each longer and stronger
than the other, till George really began to think
that he was a very dangerously witty fellow, and
that it became him to be careful how he talked &as
funny as he could.&
&And so ye telled Tom, did ye?
O, Lor! what young uns will be up ter! Ye crowed
over Tom? O, Lor! Mas'r George, if ye wouldn't make
a hornbug laugh!&
&Yes,& said George, &I says to
him, 'Tom, you ought to see some of Aunt Chloe's
they're the right sort,' says I.&
&Pity, now, Tom couldn't,& said
Aunt Chloe, on whose benevolent heart the idea of
Tom's benighted condition seemed to make a strong
impression. &Ye oughter just ask him here to dinner,
some o' these times, Mas'r George,& &it
would look quite pretty of ye. Ye know, Mas'r
George, ye oughtenter feel 'bove nobody, on 'count
yer privileges, 'cause all our privileges is gi'n to
we ought al'ays to 'member that,& said Aunt
Chloe, looking quite serious.
&Well, I mean to ask Tom here,
some day next week,& said G &and you do your
prettiest, Aunt Chloe, and we'll make him stare.
Won't we make him eat so he won't get over it for a
fortnight?&
&Yes, yes—sartin,& said Aunt
Chloe, &you'll see. Lor! to think of some
of our dinners! Yer mind dat ar great chicken pie I
made when we guv de dinner to General Knox? I and
Missis, we come pretty near quarrelling about dat ar
crust. What does get into ladies sometimes, I don't
but, sometimes, when a body has de heaviest
kind o' 'sponsibility on 'em, as ye may say, and is
all kinder 'seris' and taken up, dey takes
dat ar time to be hangin' round and kinder
interferin'! Now, Missis, she wanted me to do dis
way, and she wan and, finally,
I got kinder sarcy, and, says I, 'Now, Missis, do
jist look at dem beautiful white hands o' yourn with
long fingers, and all a sparkling with rings, like
my white lilies when de dew 's on ' and look at
my great black stumpin hands. Now, don't ye think
dat de Lord must have meant me to make de
pie-crust, and you to stay in de parlor? Dar! I was
jist so sarcy, Mas'r George.&
&And what did mother say?& said
&Say?—why, she kinder larfed in
her eyes—dem great handsome eyes o' and, says
she, 'Well, Aunt Chloe, I think you are about in the
right on 't,' and she went off in de
parlor. She oughter cracked me over de head for
bein' but dar's whar 't is—I can't do
nothin' with ladies in de kitchen!&
&Well, you made out well with
that dinner,—I remember everybody said so,& said
&Didn't I? And wan't I behind de
dinin'-room door dat bery day? and didn't I see de
General pass his plate three times for some more dat
bery pie?—and, says he, 'You must have an uncommon
cook, Mrs. Shelby.' Lor! I was fit to split myself.
&And de Gineral, he knows what
cookin' is,& said Aunt Chloe, drawing herself up
with an air. &Bery nice man, de Gineral! He comes of
one of de bery fustest families in Old
Virginny! He knows what's what, now, as well as I
do—de Gineral. Ye see, there's pints in all
pies, Mas'r G but tan't everybody knows what
they is, or as orter be. But the Gineral,
I knew by his 'marks he made. Yes, he knows what de
pints is!&
By this time, Master George had
arrived at that pass to which even a boy can come
(under uncommon circumstances, when he really could
not eat another morsel), and, therefore, he was at
leisure to notice the pile of woolly heads and
glistening eyes which were regarding their
operations hungrily from the opposite corner.
&Here, you Mose, Pete,& he said,
breaking off liberal bits, and
&you want some, don't you? Come, Aunt Chloe, bake
them some cakes.&
And George and Tom moved to a
comfortable seat in the chimney-corner, while Aunte
Chloe, after baking a goodly pile of cakes, took her
baby on her lap, and began alternately filling its
mouth and her own, and distributing to Mose and
Pete, who seemed rather to prefer eating theirs as
they rolled about on the floor under the table,
tickling each other, and occasionally pulling the
baby's toes.
&O! go long, will ye?& said the
mother, giving now and then a kick, in a kind of
general way, under the table, when the movement
became too obstreperous. &Can't ye be decent when
white folks comes to see ye? Stop dat ar, now, will
ye? Better mind yerselves, or I'll take ye down a
button-hole lower, when Mas'r George is gone!&
What meaning was couched under
this terrible threat, it but
certain it is that its awful indistinctness seemed
to produce very little impression on the young
sinners addressed.
&La, now!& said Uncle Tom, &they
are so full of tickle all the while, they can't
behave theirselves.&
Here the boys emerged from under
the table, and, with hands and faces well plastered
with molasses, began a vigorous kissing of the baby.
&Get along wid ye!& said the
mother, pushing away their woolly heads. &Ye'll all
stick together, and never get clar, if ye do dat
fashion. Go long to de spring and wash yerselves!&
she said, seconding her exhortations by a slap,
which resounded very formidably, but which seemed
only to knock out so much more laugh from the young
ones, as they tumbled precipitately over each other
out of doors, where they fairly screamed with
merriment.
&Did ye ever see such
aggravating young uns?& said Aunt Chloe, rather
complacently, as, producing an old towel, kept for
such emergencies, she poured a little water out of
the cracked tea-pot on it, and began rubbing off the
molasses from the baby' and, having
polished her till she shone, she set her down in
Tom's lap, while she busied herself in clearing away
supper. The baby employed the intervals in pulling
Tom's nose, scratching his face, and burying her fat
hands in his woolly hair, which last operation
seemed to afford her special content.
&Aint she a peart young un?&
said Tom, holding her from him to take a full-length
then, getting up, he set her on his broad
shoulder, and began capering and dancing with her,
while Mas'r George snapped at her with his
pocket-handkerchief, and Mose and Pete, now returned
again, roared after her like bears, till Aunt Chloe
declared that they &fairly took her head off& with
their noise. As, according to her own statement,
this surgical operation was a matter of daily
occurrence in the cabin, the declaration no whit
abated the merriment, till every one had roared and
tumbled and danced themselves down to a state of
composure.
&Well, now, I hopes you're
done,& said Aunt Chloe, who had been busy in pulling
out a rude box of a trundle- &and now, you Mose
and you Pete, for we's goin' to have
the meetin'.&
&O mother, we don't wanter. We
wants to sit up to meetin',—meetin's is so curis. We
likes 'em.&
&La, Aunt Chloe, shove it under,
and let 'em sit up,& said Mas'r George, decisively,
giving a push to the rude machine.
Aunt Chloe, having thus saved
appearances, seemed highly delighted to push the
thing under, saying, as she did so, &Well, mebbe 't
will do 'em some good.&
The house now resolved itself
into a committee of the whole, to consider the
accommodations and arrangements for the meeting.
&What we's to do for cheers,
now, I declar I don't know,& said Aunt Chloe.
As the meeting had been held at Uncle Tom's weekly,
for an indefinite length of time, without any more
&cheers,& there seemed some encouragement to hope
that a way would be discovered at present.
&Old Uncle Peter sung both de
legs out of dat oldest cheer, last week,& suggested
&You go long! I'll boun' you
pulled ' some o' your shines,& said Aunt
&Well, it'll stand, if it only
keeps jam up agin de wall!& said Mose.
&Den Uncle Peter mus'n't sit in
it, cause he al'ays hitches when he gets a singing.
He hitched pretty nigh across de room, t' other
night,& said Pete.
&Good Lor! get him in it, then,&
said Mose, &and den he'd begin, 'Come saints—and
sinners, hear me tell,' and den down he'd go,&—and
Mose imitated precisely the nasal tones of the old
man, tumbling on the floor, to illustrate the
supposed catastrophe.
&Come now, be decent, can't ye?&
said Aunt C &an't yer shamed?&
Mas'r George, however, joined
the offender in the laugh, and declared decidedly
that Mose was a &buster.& So the maternal admonition
seemed rather to fail of effect.
&Well, ole man,& said Aunt
Chloe, &you'll have to tote in them ar bar'ls.&
&Mother's bar'ls is like dat ar
widder's, Mas'r George was reading 'bout, in de good
book,—dey never fails,& said Mose, aside to Peter.
&I'm sure one on 'em caved in
last week,& said Pete, &and let 'em all down in de
middle of de singin'; dat ar was failin', warnt it?&
During this aside between Mose
and Pete, two empty casks had been rolled into the
cabin, and being secured from rolling, by stones on
each side, boards were laid across them, which
arrangement, together with the turning down of
certain tubs and pails, and the disposing of the
rickety chairs, at last completed the preparation.
&Mas'r George is such a
beautiful reader, now, I know he'll stay to read for
us,& said Aunt C &'pears like 't will be so
much more interestin'.&
George very readily consented,
for your boy is always ready for anything that makes
him of importance.
The room was soon filled with a
motley assemblage, from the old gray-headed
patriarch of eighty, to the young girl and lad of
fifteen. A little harmless gossip ensued on various
themes, such as where old Aunt Sally got her new red
headkerchief, and how &Missis was a going to give
Lizzy that spotted muslin gown, when she'd got her
& and how Mas'r Shelby was
thinking of buying a new sorrel colt, that was going
to prove an addition to the glories of the place. A
few of the worshippers belonged to families hard by,
who had got permission to attend, and who brought in
various choice scraps of information, about the
sayings and doings at the house and on the place,
which circulated as freely as the same sort of small
change does in higher circles.
After a while the singing
commenced, to the evident delight of all present.
Not even all the disadvantage of nasal intonation
could prevent the effect of the naturally fine
voices, in airs at once wild and spirited. The words
were sometimes the well-known and common hymns sung
in the churches about, and sometimes of a wilder,
more indefinite character, picked up at
camp-meetings.
The chorus of one of them, which
ran as follows, was sung with great energy and
&Die on the field of battle,
Die on the field of battle,
Glory in my soul.&
Another special favorite had oft
repeated the words—
&O, I'm going to glory,—won't you come along with me?
Don't you see the angels beck'ning, and a calling me away?
Don't you see the golden city and the everlasting day?&
There were others, which made
incessant mention of &Jordan's banks,& and &Canaan's
fields,& and the &New J& for the negro
mind, impassioned and imaginative, always attaches
itself to hymns and expressions of a vivid and
and, as they sung, some laughed,
and some cried, and some clapped hands, or shook
hands rejoicingly with each other, as if they had
fairly gained the other side of the river.
Various exhortations, or
relations of experience, followed, and intermingled
with the singing. One old gray-headed woman, long
past work, but much revered as a sort of chronicle
of the past, rose, and leaning on her staff,
said—&Well, chil'en! Well, I'm mighty glad to hear
ye all and see ye all once more, 'cause I don't know
when I' but I've done got ready,
chil' 'pears like I'd got my little bundle all
tied up, and my bonnet on, jest a waitin' for the
stage to come al sometimes, in
the night, I think I hear the wheels a rattlin', and
I'm lookin' now, you jest be ready
too, for I tell ye all, chil'en,& she said striking
her staff hard on the floor, &dat ar glory is
a mighty thing! It's a mighty thing, chil'en,—you
don'no nothing about it,—it's wonderful.& And
the old creature sat down, with streaming tears, as
wholly overcome, while the whole circle struck up—
&O Canaan, bright Canaan
I'm bound for the land of Canaan.&
Mas'r George, by request, read
the last chapters of Revelation, often interrupted
by such exclamations as &The sakes now!&
&Only hear that!& &Jest think on 't!& &Is all that a
comin' sure enough?&
George, who was a bright boy,
and well trained in religious things by his mother,
finding himself an object of general admiration,
threw in expositions of his own, from time to time,
with a commendable seriousness and gravity, for
which he was admired by the young and blessed by the
and it was agreed, on all hands, that &a
minister couldn't lay it of
that 't was reely 'mazin'!&
Uncle Tom was a sort of
patriarch in religious matters, in the neighborhood.
Having, naturally, an organization in which the
morale was strongly predominant, together with a
greater breadth and cultivation of mind than
obtained among his companions, he was looked up to
with great respect, as a sort of minister among
and the simple, hearty, sincere style of his
exhortations might have edified even better educated
persons. But it was in prayer that he especially
excelled. Nothing could exceed the touching
simplicity, the childlike earnestness, of his
prayer, enriched with the language of Scripture,
which seemed so entirely to have wrought itself into
his being, as to have become a part of himself, and
to drop from hi in the language
of a pious old negro, he &prayed right up.& And so
much did his prayer always work on the devotional
feelings of his audiences, that there seemed often a
danger that it would be lost altogether in the
abundance of the responses which broke out
everywhere around him.
While this scene was passing in
the cabin of the man, one quite otherwise passed in
the halls of the master.
The trader and Mr. Shelby were
seated together in the dining room afore-named, at a
table covered with papers and writing utensils.
Mr. Shelby was busy in counting
some bundles of bills, which, as they were counted,
he pushed over to the trader, who counted them
&All fair,&
&and now for signing these yer.&
Mr. Shelby hastily drew the
bills of sale towards him, and signed them, like a
man that hurries over some disagreeable business,
and then pushed them over with the money. Haley
produced, from a well-worn valise, a parchment,
which, after looking over it a moment, he handed to
Mr. Shelby, who took it with a gesture of suppressed
eagerness.
&Wal, now, the thing's done!&
said the trader, getting up.
&It's done!& said Mr.
Shelby, and, fetching a long
breath, he repeated, &It's done!&
&Yer don't seem to feel much
pleased with it, 'pears to me,& said the trader.
&Haley,& said Mr. Shelby, &I
hope you'll remember that you promised, on your
honor, you wouldn't sell Tom, without knowing what
sort of hands he's going into.&
&Why, you've just done it sir,&
said the trader.
&Circumstances, you well know,
obliged me,& said Shelby, haughtily.
&Wal, you know, they may 'blige
me, too,& said the trader. &Howsomever, I'll
do the very best I can in gettin' T
as to my treatin' on him bad, you needn't be a grain
afeard. If there's anything that I thank the Lord
for, it is that I'm never noways cruel.&
After the expositions which the
trader had previously given of his humane
principles, Mr. Shelby did not feel particularly
reassured b but, as they were
the best comfort the case admitted of, he allowed
the trader to depart in silence, and betook himself
to a solitary cigar.
Showing the Feelings of Living
Property on Changing Owners
Mr. and }