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THE WRITINGS OF 
 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 
 
 IN SIXTEEN VOLUMES 
 VOLUME II 
 
HOUGHTOK, MIFFLIN 5 CO. 
 
UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 BY 
 
 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION SETTING FORTH 
 THE HISTORY OF THE NOVEL 
 
 AND 
 
 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOLUME II 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 1896 
 
Copyright, 1851, 1878, and 1879, 
 BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 
 
 Copyright, 1895 and 189G, 
 BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghtou & Co. 
 
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. \ 
 
 PAGB 
 
 UNCLE TOM S CABIN. 
 
 XXII. THE GRASS WITHERETH THE FLOWER FADETH . 1 
 
 XXIII. HENRIQUE 11 
 
 XXIV. FORESHADOWINGS 21 
 
 XXV. THE LITTLE EVANGELIST 29 
 
 XXVI. DEATH 36 
 
 XXVII. "Tms is THE LAST OF EARTH" .... 53 
 
 XXVIII. REUNION 63 
 
 XXIX. THE UNPROTECTED 82 
 
 XXX. THE SLAVE WAREHOUSE 92 
 
 XXXI. THE MIDDLE PASSAGE 105 
 
 XXXII. DARK PLACES 113 
 
 XXXIII. CASSY 124 
 
 XXXIV. THE QUADROON S STORY 134 
 
 XXXV. THE TOKENS 148 
 
 XXXVI. EMMELTNE AND GASSY 156 
 
 XXXVII. LIBERTY 165 
 
 XXXVIII. THE VICTORY 173 
 
 XXXIX. THE STRATAGEM . 186 
 
 XL. THE MARTYR 199 
 
 XLI. THE YOUNG MASTER 208 
 
 XLII. AN AUTHENTIC GHOST STORY 216 
 
 XLIII. RESULTS 224 
 
 XLIV. THE LIBERATOR .... ... 234 
 
 XLV. CONCLUDING REMARKS 239 
 
 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN. 
 
 PREFACE 253 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CHAP. 1 255 
 
 II. MR. HALEY 256 
 
 III. MR. AND MRS. SHELBY 260 
 
 IV. GEORGE HARRIS 263 
 
 V. ELIZA 269 
 
 VI. UNCLE TOM 273 
 
 VII. Miss OPHELIA . . 277 
 
 505 
 
VI CONTENTS 
 
 VIII. MARIE ST. CLARE 280 
 
 IX. ST. CLARE 285 
 
 X. LEGREE 288 
 
 XL SELECT INCIDENTS OF LAWFUL TRADE ... 293 
 
 XII. TOPSY 297 
 
 XIII. THE QUAKERS 301 
 
 XIV. THE SPIRIT OF ST. CLARE 303 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAP. 1 304 
 
 II. WHAT is SLAVERY ? 308 
 
 III. SOUTHER v. THE COMMONWEALTH THE NE PLUS 
 
 ULTRA OF LEGAL HUMANITY 312 
 
 IV. PROTECTIVE STATUTES 3-21 
 
 V. PROTECTIVE ACTS OF SOUTH CAROLINA AND LOUISI 
 ANA THE IRON COLLAR OF LOUISIANA AND NORTH 
 CAROLINA 328 
 
 VI. PROTECTIVE ACTS WITH REGARD TO FOOD AND RAI 
 MENT, LABOR, ETC 332 
 
 VII. THE EXECUTION OF JUSTICE 335 
 
 VIII. THE GOOD OLD TIMES 345 
 
 IX. MODERATE CORRECTION AND ACCIDENTAL DEATH 
 
 STATE v. CASTLEMAN 345 
 
 X. PRINCIPLES ESTABLISHED. STATE v. LEGREE ; A 
 
 CASE NOT IN THE BOOKS 345 
 
 XI. THE TRIUMPH OF JUSTICE OVER LAW . . . 347 
 XII. A COMPARISON OF THE ROMAN LAW OF SLAVERY 
 
 WITH THE AMERICAN 347 
 
 XIII. THE MEN BETTER THAN THEIR LAWS . . . 348 
 
 XIV. THE HEBREW SLAVE LAW COMPARED WITH THE 
 
 AMERICAN SLAVE LAW 357 
 
 XV. SLAVERY is DESPOTISM 357 
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAP. I. DOES PUBLIC OPINION PROTECT THE SLAVE? . . 361 
 
 II. PUBLIC OPINION FORMED BY EDUCATION . . 366 
 
 III. SEPARATION OF FAMILIES 371 
 
 IV. THE SLAVE-TRADE 387 
 
 V. SELECT INCIDENTS OF LAWFUL TRADE, OR FACTS 
 
 STRANGER THAN FICTION 394 
 
 VI. THE EDMONDSONS 395 
 
 VII. THE CASE OF EMILY RUSSELL 427 
 
 VIII. KIDNAPPING 427 
 
 IX. SLAVES AS THEY ARE, ON TESTIMONY OF OWNERS . 428 
 
 X. POOR WHITE TRASH . 431 
 
CONTENTS Vii 
 PART IV. 
 
 CHAP. I. THE INFLUENCE OF THE AMERICAN CHURCH ON SLA 
 VERY 437 
 
 II. How THE CHURCHES REGARDED THE DEFENCE OF 
 
 SLAVERY 443 
 
 III. MARTYRDOM 449 
 
 IV. SERVITUDE IN THE PRIMITIVE CHURCH COMPARED 
 
 WITH AMERICAN SLAVERY 449 
 
 V. TEACHINGS AND CONDITION OF THE APOSTLES . . 449 
 
 VI. APOSTOLIC TEACHING ON EMANCIPATION . . . 449 
 
 VII. ABOLITION OF SLAVERY BY CHRISTIANITY . . . 449 
 
 VIII. JUSTICE AND EQUITY VERSUS SLAVERY ... 450 
 
 IX. Is THE SYSTEM OF RELIGION WHICH is TAUGHT THE 
 
 SLAVE THE GOSPEL? 450 
 
 X. WHAT is TO BE DONE ? 450 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT OF UNCLE TOM S CABIN . . . 455 
 
 The frontispiece ("I wish I could help you, Tom," p. 310) is from a 
 drawing by B. West Clinedinst. 
 The vignette (The Cabin) is from a drawing by E. W. Kemble. 
 
UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 OR 
 
 LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 " THE GRASS WITHERETH THE FLOWER FADETH " 
 
 LIFE passes with us all a day at a time ; so it passed with 
 our friend Tom, till two years were gone. Though parted 
 from all his soul held dear, and though often yearning for 
 what lay beyond, still was he never positively and con 
 sciously miserable ; for, so well is the harp of human feel 
 ing strung, that nothing but a crash that breaks every string 
 can wholly mar its harmony ; and, on looking back to seasons 
 which in review appear to us as those of deprivation and 
 trial, we can remember that each hour as it glided brought 
 its diversions and alleviations, so that, though not happy 
 wholly, we were not, either, wholly miserable. 
 
 Tom read, in his only literary cabinet, of one who had 
 "learned in whatsoever state he was, therewith to be con 
 tent. 7 It seemed to him good and reasonable doctrine, and 
 accorded well with the settled and thoughtful habit which 
 he had acquired from the reading of that same book. 
 
 His letter homeward, as we related in the last chapter, 
 was in due time answered by Master George, in a good, 
 round, school-boy hand, that Tom said might be read " most 
 acrost the room." It contained various refreshing items of 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
2 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 home intelligence, with which our reader is fully ac 
 quainted ; stated how Aunt Chloe had been hired out to a 
 confectioner in Louisville, where her skill in the pastry line 
 was gaining wonderful sums of money, all of which, Tom 
 was informed, was to be laid up to go to make up the sum 
 of his redemption money ; Mose and Pete were thriving, 
 and the baby was trotting all about the house, under the 
 care of Sally and the family generally. 
 
 Tom s cabin was shut up for the present ; but George 
 expatiated brilliantly on ornaments and additions to be 
 made to it when Tom came back. 
 
 The rest of this letter gave a list of George s school 
 studies, each one headed by a nourishing capital ; and also 
 told the names of four new colts that appeared on the pre 
 mises since Tom left ; and stated, in the same connection, 
 that father and mother were well. The style of the letter 
 was decidedly concise and terse ; but Tom thought it the 
 most wonderful specimen of composition that had appeared 
 in modern times. He was never tired of looking at it, and 
 even held a council with Eva on the expediency of getting 
 it framed, to hang up in his room. Nothing but the diffi 
 culty of arranging it so that both sides of the page would 
 show at once stood in the way of this undertaking. 
 
 The friendship between Tom and Eva had grown with 
 the child s growth. It would be hard to say what place 
 she held in the soft, impressible heart of her faithful attend 
 ant. He loved her as something frail and earthly, yet 
 almost worshiped her as something heavenly and divine. 
 He gazed on her as the Italian sailor gazes on his image of 
 the child Jesus, with a mixture of reverence and tender 
 ness ; and to humor her graceful fancies, and meet those 
 thousand simple wants which invest childhood like a many- 
 colored rainbow, was Tom s chief delight. In the market, 
 at morning, his eyes were always on the flower-stalls for 
 rare bouquets for her, and the choicest peach or orange was 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 3 
 
 slipped into his pocket to give to her when he came back ; 
 and the sight that pleased him most was her sunny head 
 looking out the gate for his distant approach, and her child 
 ish question, " Well, Uncle Tom, what have you got for 
 me to-day ? " 
 
 Nor was Eva less zealous in kind offices in return. 
 Though a child, she was a beautiful reader ; a fine musi 
 cal ear, a quick poetic fancy, and an instinctive sympathy 
 with what is grand and noble, made her such a reader of 
 the Bible as Tom had never before heard. At first, she 
 read to please her humble friend ; but soon her own earnest 
 nature threw out its tendrils, and wound itself around the 
 majestic book ; and Eva loved it, because it woke in her 
 strange yearnings, and strong, dim emotions, such as impas 
 sioned, imaginative children love to feel. 
 
 The parts that pleased her most were the Revelation and 
 the Prophecies, parts whose dim and wondrous imagery 
 and fervent language impressed her the more that she 
 questioned vainly of their meaning ; and she and her simple 
 friend, the old child and the young one, felt just alike 
 about it. All that they knew was, that they spoke of a 
 glory to be revealed, a wondrous something yet to come ? 
 wherein their soul rejoiced, yet knew not why ; and though 
 it be not so in the physical, yet in moral science that which 
 cannot be understood is not always profitless. For the soul 
 awakes, a trembling stranger, between two dim eternities, 
 the eternal past, the eternal future. The light shines only 
 on a small space around her ; therefore, she needs must 
 yearn towards the unknown ; and the voices and shadowy 
 movings which come to her from out the cloudy pillar of 
 inspiration have each one echoes and answers in her own ex 
 pecting nature. Its mystic imageries are so many talismans 
 and gems inscribed with unknown hieroglyphics ; she folds 
 them in her bosom, and expects to read them when she 
 passes beyond the veil. 
 
4 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 At this time in our story, the whole St. Clare establish 
 ment is, for the time being, removed to their villa on Lake 
 Pontchartrain. The heats of summer had driven all who 
 were able to leave the sultry and unhealthy city, to seek 
 the shores of the lake and its cool sea-breezes. 
 
 St. Clare s villa was an East-Indian cottage, surrounded 
 by light verandas of bamboo-work, and opening on all sides 
 into gardens and pleasure grounds. The common sitting- 
 room opened on to a large garden, fragrant with every pic 
 turesque plant and flower of the tropics, where winding 
 paths ran down to the very shores of the lake, whose silvery 
 sheet of water lay there, rising and falling in the sunbeams, 
 a picture never for an hour the same, yet every hour 
 more beautiful. 
 
 It is now one of those intensely golden sunsets which 
 kindles the whole horizon into one blaze of glory, and 
 makes the water another sky. The lake lay in rosy or 
 golden streaks, save where white-winged vessels glided 
 hither and thither, like so many spirits, and little golden 
 stars twinkled through the glow, and looked down at them 
 selves as they trembled in the water. 
 
 Tom and Eva were seated on a little mossy seat, in an 
 arbor, at the foot of the garden. It was Sunday evening, 
 and Eva s Bible lay open on her knee. She read, " And I 
 saw a sea of glass, mingled with fire." 
 
 "Tom," said Eva, suddenly stopping, and pointing to 
 the lake ; " there t is." 
 
 " What, Miss Eva ? " 
 
 " Don t you see, there ? " said the child, pointing to 
 the glassy water, which, as it rose and fell, reflected the 
 golden glow of the sky. " There s a sea of glass, mingled 
 with fire. " 
 
 "True enough, Miss Eva," said Tom; and Tom sang: 
 
 " Oh, had I the wings of the morning, 
 I d fly away to Canaan s shore ; 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 5 
 
 Bright angels should convey me home, 
 To the new Jerusalem." 
 
 " Where do you suppose new Jerusalem is, Uncle Tom ? " 
 said Eva. 
 
 " Oh, up in the clouds, Miss Eva. 7 
 
 " Then I think I can see it," said Eva. " Look in 
 those clouds ! they look like great gates of pearl ; and 
 you can see beyond them, far, far off, it s all gold. 
 Tom, sing about spirits bright. : 
 
 Tom sung the words of a well-known Methodist hymn : 
 
 " I see a band of spirits bright, 
 
 That taste the glories there ; 
 They all are robed in spotless white, 
 And conquering palms they bear." 
 
 " Uncle Tom, I ve seen them" said Eva. 
 
 Tom had no doubt of it at all ; it did not surprise him 
 in the least. If Eva had told him she had been to heaven, 
 he would have thought it entirely probable. 
 
 " They come to me sometimes in my sleep, those spirits ; " 
 and Eva s eyes grew dreamy, and she hummed, in a low 
 voice, 
 
 " They all are robed in spotless white, 
 And conquering palms they bear." 
 
 " Uncle Tom," said Eva, " I m going there." 
 
 " Where, Miss Eva ? " 
 
 The child rose, and pointed her little hand to the sky ; 
 the glow of evening lit her golden hair and flushed cheek 
 with a kind of unearthly radiance, and her eyes were bent 
 earnestly on the skies. 
 
 " I m going there," she said, " to the spirits bright, 
 Tom; I m going before long" 
 
 The faithful old heart felt a sudden thrust ; and Tom 
 thought how often he had noticed, within six months, that 
 Eva s little hands had grown thinner, and her skin more 
 transparent, and her breath shorter; and how, when she 
 
C UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 ran or played in the garden, as she once could for hours, 
 she became soon so tired and languid. He had heard Miss 
 Ophelia speak often of a cough, that all her medicaments 
 could not cure ; and even now that fervent cheek and little 
 hand were burning with hectic fever ; and yet the thought 
 that Eva s words suggested had never come to him till now. 
 
 Has there ever been a child like Eva ? Yes, there have 
 been ; but their names are always on gravestones, and their 
 sweet smiles, their heavenly eyes, their singular words and 
 ways, are among the buried treasures of yearning hearts. 
 In how many families do you hear the legend that all the 
 goodness and graces of the living are nothing to the peculiar 
 charms of one who is not ! It is as if Heaven had an 
 especial band of angels, whose office it was to sojourn for a 
 season here, and endear to them the wayward human heart, 
 that they might bear it upward with them in their home 
 ward flight. When you see that deep, spiritual light in the 
 eye, when the little soul reveals itself in words sweeter 
 and wiser than the ordinary words of children, hope not 
 to retain that child ; for the seal of Heaven is on it, and 
 the light of immortality looks out from its eyes. 
 
 Even so, beloved Eva ! fair star of thy dwelling ! Thou 
 art passing away ; but they that love thee dearest know it 
 not. 
 
 The colloquy between Tom and Eva was interrupted by 
 a hasty call from Miss Ophelia. 
 
 " Eva Eva ! why, child, the dew is falling ; you 
 must n t be out there ! " 
 
 Eva and Tom hastened in. 
 
 Miss Ophelia was old and skilled in the tactics of nurs 
 ing. She was from New England, and knew well the first 
 guileful footsteps of that soft, insidious disease, which 
 sweeps away so many of the fairest and loveliest, and, 
 before one fibre of life seems broken, seals them irrevocably 
 for death. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 7 
 
 She had noted the slight, dry cough, the daily brighten 
 ing cheek ; nor could the lustre of the eye, and the airy 
 buoyancy born of fever, deceive her. 
 
 She tried to communicate her fears to St. Clare ; but he 
 threw back her suggestions with a restless petulance, unlike 
 his usual careless good humor. 
 
 " Don t be croaking, cousin, I hate it ! " he would say ; 
 " don t you see that the child is only growing ? Children 
 always lose strength when they grow fast." 
 
 " But she has that cough ! " 
 
 " Oh, nonsense of that cough ! it is not anything. She 
 has taken a little cold, perhaps. 7 
 
 " Well, that was just the way Eliza Jane was taken, and 
 Ellen and Maria Sanders." 
 
 " Oh, stop these hobgoblin nurse-legends. You old hands 
 get so wise that a child cannot cough or sneeze but you see 
 desperation and ruin at hand. Only take care of the child, 
 keep her from the night air, and don t let her play too 
 hard, and she 11 do well enough." 
 
 So St. Clare said ; but he grew nervous and restless. He 
 watched Eva feverishly day by day, as might be told by the 
 frequency with which he repeated over that " the child was 
 quite well," - - that there was n t anything in that cough, 
 it was only some little stomach affection, such as children 
 often had. But he kept by her more than before, took her 
 oftener to ride with him, brought home every few days 
 some receipt or strengthening mixture, "not," he said, 
 " that the child needed it, but then it would not do her any 
 harm." 
 
 If it must be told, the thing that struck a deeper pang 
 to his heart than anything else was the daily increasing 
 maturity of the child s mind and feelings. While still 
 retaining all a child s fanciful graces, yet she often dropped, 
 unconsciously, words of such a reach of thought and strange 
 unworldly wisdom that they seemed to be an inspiration. 
 
UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 At such times, St. Clare would feel a sudden thrill, and 
 clasp her in his arms, as if that fond clasp could save her ; 
 and his heart rose up with wild determination to keep her, 
 never to let her go. 
 
 The child s whole heart and soul seemed absorbed in 
 works of love and kindness. Impulsively generous she had 
 always been; but there was a touching and womanly 
 thoughtfulness about her now, that every one noticed. She 
 still loved to play with Topsy and the various colored 
 children ; but she now seemed rather a spectator than an 
 actor of their plays, and she would sit for half an hour at 
 a time laughing at the odd tricks of Topsy, and then a 
 shadow would seem to pass across her face, her eyes grew 
 misty, and her thoughts were afar. 
 
 "Mamma," she said suddenly to her mother one day, 
 " why don t we teach our servants to read ? " 
 
 " What a question, child ! People never do." 
 
 "Why don t they ? " said Eva. 
 
 " Because it is no use for them to read. It don t help 
 them to work any better, and they are not made for any 
 thing else." 
 
 " But they ought to read the Bible, mamma, to learn 
 God s will." 
 
 " Oh, they can get that read to them all they need." 
 
 " It seems to me, mamma, the Bible is for every one to 
 read themselves. They need it a great many times when 
 there is nobody to read it." 
 
 " Eva, you are an odd child," said her mother. 
 
 " Miss Ophelia has taught Topsy to read," continued 
 Eva. 
 
 " Yes, and you see how much good it does. Topsy is 
 the worst creature I ever saw ! " 
 
 " Here s poor Mammy ! " said Eva. " She does love 
 the Bible so much, and wishes so she could read ! And 
 what will she do when I can t read to her ? " 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 
 
 Marie was busy turning over the contents of a drawer, 
 as she answered, 
 
 " Well, of course, by and by, Eva, you will have other 
 things to think of besides reading the Bible round to ser 
 vants. Not but that is very proper ; I ve done it myself, 
 when I had health. But when you come to be dressing and 
 going into company, you won t have time. See here ! " she 
 added, " these jewels I m going to give you when you come 
 out. I wore them to my first ball. I can tell you, Eva, I 
 made a sensation." 
 
 Eva took the jewel-case, and lifted from it a diamond 
 necklace. Her large, thoughtful eyes rested on them, but 
 it was plain her thoughts were elsewhere. 
 
 " How sober you look, child ! " said Marie. 
 
 " Are these worth a great deal of money, mamma ? " 
 
 " To be sure, they are. Father sent to France for them. 
 They are worth a small fortune. 7 
 
 " I wish I had them," said Eva, " to do what I pleased 
 with ! " 
 
 " What would you do with them ? " 
 
 " I d sell them, and buy a place in the free States, and 
 take all our people there, and hire teachers, to teach them 
 to read and write." 
 
 Eva was cut short by her mother s laughing. 
 
 " Set up a boarding-school ! Would n t you teach them 
 to play on the piano and paint on velvet ? " 
 
 " I d teach them to read their own Bible, and write their 
 own letters, and read letters that are written to them," said 
 Eva steadily. " I know, mamma, it does come very hard 
 on them, that they can t do these things. Tom feels it. 
 Mammy does, a great many of them do. I think it s 
 wrong." 
 
 " Come, come, Eva ; you are only a child ! You don t 
 know anything about these things," said Marie ; " besides, 
 your talking makes my head ache." 
 
10 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 Marie always had a headache on hand for any conversa 
 tion that did not exactly suit her. 
 
 Eva stole away ; but after that, she assiduously gave 
 Mammy reading lessons. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 11 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 HENRIQUE 
 
 ABOUT this time, St. Clare s brother Alfred, with his 
 eldest son, a boy of twelve, spent a day or two with the 
 family at the lake. 
 
 No sight could be more singular and beautiful than that 
 of these twin brothers. Nature, instead of instituting 
 resemblances between them, had made them opposites on 
 every point ; yet a mysterious tie seemed to unite them in 
 a closer friendship than ordinary. 
 
 They used to saunter, arm in arm, up and down the 
 alleys and walks of the garden, Augustine, with his blue 
 eyes and golden hair, his ethereally flexible form and viva 
 cious features ; and Alfred, dark-eyed, with haughty Roman 
 profile, firmly knit limbs, and decided bearing. They were 
 always abusing each other s opinions and practices, and yet 
 never a whit the less absorbed in each other s society ; in 
 fact, the very contrariety seemed to unite them, like the 
 attraction between opposite poles of the magnet. 
 
 Henrique, the eldest son of Alfred, was a noble dark- 
 eyed, princely boy, full of vivacity and spirit ; and, from 
 the first moment of introduction, seemed to be perfectly 
 fascinated by the spirituelle graces of his cousin Evangeline. 
 
 Eva had a little pet pony, of a snowy whiteness. It 
 was easy as a cradle, and as gentle as its little mistress ; 
 and this pony was now brought up to the back veranda by 
 Tom, while a little mulatto boy of about thirteen led along 
 a small black Arabian, which had just been imported at a 
 great expense for Henrique. 
 
12 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 Henrique had a boy s pride in his new possession; and as 
 he advanced, and took the reins out of the hands of his little 
 groom, he looked carefully over him, and his brow darkened. 
 
 "What s this, Dodo, you little lazy dog ! you haven t 
 rubbed my horse down this morning." 
 
 " Yes, Mas r," said Dodo submissively ; " he got that 
 dust on his own self." 
 
 " You rascal, shut your mouth ! " said Henrique, vio 
 lently raising his riding-whip. " How dare you speak ? " 
 
 The boy was a handsome, bright-eyed mulatto, of just 
 Henrique s size, and his curling hair hung round a high 
 bold forehead. He had white blood in his veins, as could 
 be seen by the quick flush in his cheek and the sparkle of 
 his eye, as he eagerly tried to speak. 
 
 " Mas r Henrique " he began. 
 
 Henrique struck him across the face with his riding- 
 whip, and, seizing one of his arms, forced him on to his 
 knees, and beat him till he was out of breath. 
 
 " There, you impudent dog ! Now will you learn not to 
 answer back when I speak to you ? Take the horse back, 
 and clean him properly. I 11 teach you your place ! " 
 
 " Young Mas r," said Tom, " I specs what he was gwine 
 to say was, that the horse would roll when he was bringing 
 him up from the stable ; he s so full of spirits, that s 
 the way he got that dirt on him ; I looked to his cleaning." 
 
 "You hold your tongue till you re asked to speak!" 
 said Henrique, turning on his heel, and walking up the 
 steps to speak to Eva, who stood in her riding-dress. 
 
 " Dear cousin, I m sorry this stupid fellow has kept you 
 waiting," he said. " Let s sit down here, on this seat, till 
 they come. What s the matter, cousin ? you look sober." 
 
 " How could you be so cruel and wicked to poor Dodo ? " 
 said Eva. 
 
 " Cruel, wicked ! " said the boy, with unaffected sur 
 prise. " What do you mean, dear Eva ? " 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 13 
 
 " I don t want you to call me dear Eva, when you do 
 so/ 7 said Eva, 
 
 " Dear cousin, you don t know Dodo ; it is the only way 
 to manage him, he s so full of lies and excuses. The only 
 way is to put him down at once, not let him open his 
 mouth ; that ? s the way papa manages." 
 
 " But Uncle Tom said it was an accident, and he never 
 tells what is n t true." 
 
 " He s an uncommon old nigger, then ! " said Henrique. 
 " Dodo will lie as fast as he can speak." 
 
 " You frighten him into deceiving, if you treat him so." 
 
 " Why, Eva, you 7 ve really taken such a fancy to Dodo 
 that I shall he jealous." 
 
 "But you beat him, and he did n t deserve it." 
 
 " Oh, well, it may go for some time when he does, and 
 don t get it. A few cuts never come amiss with Dodo, 
 he s a regular spirit, I can tell you ; but I won t beat him 
 again before you, if it troubles you." 
 
 Eva was not satisfied, but found it in vain to try to make 
 her handsome cousin understand her feelings. 
 
 Dodo soon appeared with the horses. 
 
 " Well, Dodo, you ve done pretty well this time," said 
 his young master, with a more gracious air. " Come, now, 
 and hold Miss Eva s horse, while I put her on the saddle." 
 
 Dodo came and stood by Eva s pony. His face was 
 troubled, his eyes looked as if he had been crying. 
 
 Henrique, who valued himself on his gentlemanly adroit 
 ness in all matters of gallantry, soon had his fair cousin in 
 the saddle, and, gathering the reins, placed them in her 
 hands. 
 
 But Eva bent to the other side of the horse, where Dodo 
 was standing, and said, as he relinquished the reins, 
 " That s a good boy, Dodo ; thank you ! " 
 
 Dodo looked up in amazement into the sweet young face ; 
 the blood rushed to his cheeks, and tears to his eyes. 
 
14 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Here, Dodo," said his master imperiously. 
 
 Dodo sprang and held the horse, while his master 
 mounted. 
 
 " There s a picayune for you to buy candy with, Dodo," 
 said Henrique ; " go get some." 
 
 And Henrique cantered down the walk after Eva. Dodo 
 stood looking after the two children. One had given him 
 money ; and one had given him what he wanted far more, 
 a kind word, kindly spoken. Dodo had been only a few 
 months away from his mother. His master had bought him 
 at a slave warehouse, for his handsome face, to be a match 
 to the handsome pony ; and he was now getting his break 
 ing in, at the hands of his young master. 
 
 The scene of the beating had been witnessed by the two 
 brothers St. Clare, from another part of the garden. 
 
 Augustine s cheek flushed ; but he only observed with 
 his usual sarcastic carelessness, 
 
 " I suppose that s what we may call republican education, 
 Alfred ? " 
 
 " Henrique is a devil of a fellow, when his blood s up," 
 said Alfred carelessly. 
 
 " I suppose you consider this an instructive practice for 
 him," said Augustine dryly. 
 
 " I could n t help it, if I did n t. Henrique is a regular 
 little tempest ; his mother and I have given him up long 
 ago. But, then, that Dodo is a perfect sprite no amount 
 of whipping can hurt him." 
 
 " And this by way of teaching Henrique the first verse 
 of a republican s catechism, All men are born free and 
 equal ! " 
 
 " Poh ! " said Alfred ; " one of Tom Jefferson s pieces of 
 French sentiment and humbug. It ? s perfectly ridiculous to 
 have that going the rounds among us, to this day." 
 
 " I think it is," said St. Clare significantly. 
 
 " Because," said Alfred, " we can see plainly enough that 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 15 
 
 all men are not bom free nor born equal ; they are born 
 anything else. For my part, I think half this republican 
 talk sheer humbug. It is the educated, the intelligent, the 
 wealthy, the refined, who ought to have equal rights, arid 
 not the canaille." 
 
 "If you can keep the canaille of that opinion/ said 
 Augustine. " They took their turn once, in France. " 
 
 " Of course, they must be keptdoivn, consistently, steadily, 
 as I should" said Alfred, setting his foot down hard, as if 
 he were standing on somebody. 
 
 " It makes a terrible slip when they get up/ 7 said Augus 
 tine, " in St. Domingo, for instance." 
 
 " Poh ! " said Alfred, " we 11 take care of that, in this 
 country. We must set our face against all this educating, 
 elevating talk, that is getting about now ; the lower class 
 must not be educated." 
 
 " That is past praying for," said Augustine ; " educated 
 they will be, and we have only to say how. Our system is 
 educating them in barbarism and brutality. We are break 
 ing all humanizing ties, and making them brute beasts ; and, 
 if they get the upper hand, such we shall find them." 
 
 " They never shall get the upper hand ! " said Alfred. 
 
 " That s right," said St. Clare ; " put on the steam, fasten 
 down the escape- valve, and sit on it, and see where you 11 
 land." 
 
 " Well," said Alfred, " we will see. 1 7 m not afraid to 
 sit on the escape- valve, as long as the boilers are strong and 
 the machinery works well." 
 
 " The nobles in Louis XVI. s time thought just so ; and 
 Austria and Pius IX. think so now ; and, some pleasant 
 morning, you may all be caught up to meet each other in 
 the air, when the boilers burst" 
 
 " Dies declarabit," said Alfred, laughing. 
 
 "I tell you," said Augustine, "if there is anything that 
 is revealed with the strength of a divine law in our times, it 
 
16 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 is that the masses are to rise, and the under class become the 
 upper one." 
 
 " That s one of your red republican humbugs, Augustine ! 
 Why did n t you ever take to the stump ; you d make a 
 famous stump orator ! Well, I hope I shall be dead before 
 this millennium of your greasy masses comes on. 7 
 
 " Greasy or not greasy, they will govern you, when their 
 time comes," said Augustine; "and they will be just 
 such rulers as you make them. The French noblesse chose 
 to have the people sans culotte, and they had sans 
 culotte governors to their hearts content. The people of 
 Hayti " - 
 
 " Oh, come, Augustine, as if we had n t had enough of 
 that abominable, contemptible Hayti ! The Haytiens were 
 not Anglo-Saxons ; if they had been, there would have been 
 another story. The Anglo-Saxon is the dominant race of 
 the world, and is to be so. 7 
 
 " Well, there is a pretty fair infusion of Anglo-Saxon 
 blood among our slaves now," said Augustine. " There are 
 plenty among them who have only enough of the African to 
 give a sort of tropical warmth and fervor to our calculating 
 firmness and foresight. If ever the San Domingo hour 
 comes, Anglo-Saxon blood will lead on the day. Sons of 
 white fathers, with all our haughty feelings burning in their 
 veins, will not always be bought and sold and traded. They 
 will rise, and raise with them their mother s race." 
 
 "Stuff! nonsense!" 
 
 " Well," said Augustine, " there goes an old saying to 
 this effect : As it was in the days of Noah, so shall it 
 be ; they ate, they drank, they planted, they builded, and 
 knew not till the flood came and took them. " 
 
 " On the whole, Augustine, I think your talents might 
 do for a circuit-rider," said Alfred, laughing. " Never you 
 fear for us ; possession is our nine points. We ve got the 
 power. This subject race," said he, stamping firmly, " is 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 17 
 
 down, and shall stay down ! We have energy enough to 
 manage our own powder." 
 
 " Sons trained like your Henrique will be grand guar 
 dians of your powder-magazines," said Augustine, " so 
 cool and self-possessed ! The proverb says, They that can 
 not govern themselves cannot govern others/ " 
 
 " There is a trouble there," said Alfred thoughtfully ; 
 " there s no doubt that our system is a difficult one to train 
 children under. It gives too free scope to the passions 
 altogether, which, in our climate, are hot enough. I find 
 trouble with Henrique. The boy is generous and warm 
 hearted, but a perfect fire-cracker when excited. I believe 
 I shall send him North for his education, where obedience 
 is more fashionable, and where he will associate more with 
 equals and less with dependants." 
 
 " Since training children is the staple work of the human 
 race," said Augustine, " I should think it something of a 
 consideration that our system does not work well there." 
 
 " It does not for some things," said Alfred ; " for others, 
 again, it does. It makes boys manly and courageous ; and 
 the very vices of an abject race tend to strengthen in them 
 the opposite virtues. I think Henrique, now, has a keener 
 sense of the beauty of truth, from seeing lying and decep 
 tion the universal badge of slavery." 
 
 " A Christian-like view of the subject, certainly ! " said 
 Augustine. 
 
 " It s true, Christian-like or not ; and is about as Chris 
 tian-like as most other things in the world, 7 said Alfred. 
 
 " That may be," said St. Clare. 
 
 " Well, there s no use in talking, Augustine. I believe 
 we ve been round and round this old track five hundred 
 times, more or less. What do you say to a game of back 
 gammon ? " 
 
 The two brothers ran up the veranda steps, and were 
 soon seated at a light bamboo stand, with the backgam- 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
18 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 mon-board between them. As they were setting their men, 
 Alfred said, 
 
 " I tell you, Augustine, if I thought as you do, I should 
 do something." 
 
 " I dare say you would, you are one of the doing 
 sort, but what ? " 
 
 " Why, elevate your own servants, for a specimen," said 
 Alfred, with a half-scornful smile. 
 
 u You might as well set Mount ./Etna on them flat, and 
 tell them to stand up under it, as tell me to elevate my 
 servants under all the superincumbent mass of society upon 
 them. One man can do nothing against the whole action 
 of a community. Education, to do anything, must be a 
 state education ; or there must be enough agreed in it to 
 make a current." 
 
 " You take the first throw," said Alfred ; and the bro 
 thers were soon lost in the game, and heard no more till 
 the scraping of horses feet was heard under the veranda. 
 
 " There come the children," said Augustine, rising. 
 "Look here, Alf ! Did you ever see anything so beauti 
 ful ? " And, in truth, it was a beautiful sight. Henrique, 
 with his bold brow, and dark, glossy curls, and glowing 
 cheek, was laughing gayly, as he bent towards his fair 
 cousin as they came on. She was dressed in a blue riding- 
 dress, with a cap of the same color. Exercise had given a 
 brilliant hue to her cheeks, and heightened the effect of her 
 singularly transparent skin and golden hair. 
 
 " Good heavens ! what perfectly dazzling beauty ! " said 
 Alfred. " I tell you, Auguste, won t she make some hearts 
 ache one of these days ? " 
 
 " She will, too truly, God knows I m afraid so ! " said 
 St. Clare, in a tone of sudden bitterness, as he hurried down 
 to take her off her horse. 
 
 " Eva, darling ! you re not much tired ? " he said, as he 
 clasped her in his arms. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 19 
 
 " No, papa," said the child ; but her short, hard breathing 
 alarmed her father. 
 
 " How could you ride so fast, dear ? you know it ? s 
 bad for you. 7 
 
 " I felt so well, papa, and liked it so much, I forgot." 
 
 St. Clare carried her in his arms into the parlor, and laid 
 her on the sofa. 
 
 " Henrique, you must be careful of Eva," said he ; " you 
 must n t ride fast with her." 
 
 " I 11 take her under my care," said Henrique, seating 
 himself by the sofa, and taking Eva s hand. 
 
 Eva soon found herself much better. Her father and 
 uncle resumed their game, and the children were left to 
 gether. 
 
 " Do you know, Eva, I m so sorry papa is only going to 
 stay two days here, and then I sha n t see you again for ever 
 so long ! If I stay with you, I d try to be good, and not 
 be cross to Dodo, and so on. I don t mean to treat Dodo 
 ill ; but, you know, I ve got such a quick temper. I m 
 not really bad to him, though. I give him a picayune now 
 and then ; and you see he dresses well. I think, on the 
 whole, Dodo s pretty well off." 
 
 " Would you think you were well off, if there were not 
 one creature in the world near you to love you ? " 
 
 "I? Well, of course not." 
 
 " And you have taken Dodo away from all the friends he 
 ever had, and now he has not a creature to love him ; 
 nobody can be good that way." 
 
 " Well, I can t help it, as I know of. I can t get his 
 mother, and I can t love him myself, nor anybody else, as I 
 know of." 
 
 " Why can t you ? " said Eva. 
 
 " Love Dodo ! Why, Eva, you would n t have me ! I 
 may like him well enough ; but you don t love your ser 
 vants." 
 
20 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " I do, indeed." 
 
 " How odd ! " 
 
 " Don t the Bible say we must love everybody ? " 
 
 " Oh, the Bible ! To be sure, it says a great many such 
 things ; but, then, nobody ever thinks of doing them, you 
 know, Eva, nobody does." 
 
 Eva did not speak ; her eyes were fixed and thoughtful 
 for a few moments. 
 
 " At any rate," she said, " dear cousin, do love poor Dodo, 
 and be kind to him, for my sake ! " 
 
 " I could love anything, for your sake, dear cousin ; for I 
 really think you are the loveliest creature that I ever saw ! " 
 And Henrique spoke with an earnestness that flushed his 
 handsome face. Eva received it with perfect simplicity, 
 without even a change of feature ; merely saying, " I m glad 
 you feel so, dear Henrique ! I hope you will remember." 
 
 The dinner-bell put an end to the interview. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 21 
 
 CHAPTER, XXIV 
 
 FOKESHADOWINGS 
 
 Two days after this, Alfred St. Clare and Augustine 
 parted ; and Eva, who had been stimulated by the society 
 of her young cousin to exertions beyond her strength, be 
 gan to fail rapidly. St. Clare was at last willing to call in 
 medical advice, a thing from which he had always shrunk, 
 because it was the admission of an unwelcome truth. But 
 for a day or two Eva was so unwell as to be confined to 
 the house ; and the doctor was called. 
 
 Marie St. Clare had taken no notice of the child s gradu 
 ally decaying health and strength, because she was com 
 pletely absorbed in studying out two or three new forms of 
 disease to which she believed she herself was a victim. It 
 was the first principle of Marie s belief that nobody ever 
 was or could be so great a sufferer as herself ; and, there 
 fore, she always repelled quite indignantly any suggestion 
 that any one around her could be sick. She was always 
 sure, in such a case, that it was nothing but laziness or 
 want of energy ; and that, if they had had the suffering 
 she had, they would soon know the difference. 
 
 Miss Ophelia had several times tried to awaken her ma 
 ternal fears about Eva ; but to no avail. 
 
 " I don t see as anything ails the child," she would say ; 
 " she runs about, and plays." 
 
 " But she has a cough." 
 
 " Cough ! you don t need to tell me about a cough. I ve 
 always been subject to a cough all my days. When I was 
 of Eva s age, they thought I was in a consumption. Night 
 
22 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 after night Mammy used to sit up with me. Oh, Eva s 
 cough is not anything." 
 
 " But she gets weak, and is short-breathed." 
 
 " Law ! 1 7 ve had that years and years ; it ? s only a ner 
 vous affection." 
 
 " But she sweats so, nights ! " 
 
 " Well, I have, these ten years. Very often, night after 
 night, my clothes will be wringing wet. There won t be a 
 dry thread in my night-clothes, and the sheets will be so 
 that Mammy has to hang them up to dry ! Eva does n t 
 sweat anything like that ! " 
 
 Miss Ophelia shut her mouth for a season. But now 
 that Eva was fairly and visibly prostrated, and a doctor 
 called, Marie, all on a sudden, took a new turn. 
 
 She knew it, she said ; she always felt it, that she was 
 destined to be the most miserable of mothers. Here she 
 was, with her wretched health, and her only darling child 
 going down to the grave before her eyes ! And Marie 
 routed up Mammy nights, and rumpussed and scolded, with 
 more energy than ever all day on the strength of this new 
 misery. 
 
 " My dear Marie, don t talk so ! " said St. Clare. " You 
 ought not to give up the case so at once." 
 
 " You have not a mother s feelings, St. Clare. You never 
 could understand me ! you don t now." 
 
 " But don t talk so, as if it were a gone case ! " 
 
 "I can t take it as indifferently as you can, St. Clare. 
 If you don t feel when your only child is in this alarming 
 state, / do. It s a blow too much for me, with all I was 
 bearing before." 
 
 " It s true," said St. Clare, " that Eva is very delicate, 
 that I always knew ; and that she has grown so rapidly as 
 to exhaust her strength ; and that her situation is critical. 
 But just now she is only prostrated by the heat of the 
 weather, and by the excitement of her cousin s visit, and 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 23 
 
 the exertions she made. The physician says there is room 
 for hope." 
 
 " Well, of course, if you can look on the bright side, 
 pray do ; it s a mercy if people have n t sensitive feelings 
 in this world. I am sure I wish I did n t feel as I do ; it 
 only makes me completely wretched ! I wish I could be as 
 easy as the rest of you ! " 
 
 And the " rest of them " had good reason to breathe the 
 same prayer, for Marie paraded her new misery as the 
 reason and apology for all sorts of inflictions on every one 
 about her. Every word that was spoken by anybody, every 
 thing that was done or was not done everywhere, was only a 
 new proof that she was surrounded by hard-hearted, insensible 
 beings, who were unmindful of her peculiar sorrows. Poor 
 Eva heard some of these speeches ; and nearly cried her 
 little eyes out, in pity for her mamma, and in sorrow that 
 she should make her so much distress. 
 
 In a week or two there was a great improvement of 
 symptoms, one of those deceitful lulls by which her in 
 exorable disease so often beguiles the anxious heart, even, on 
 the verge of the grave. Eva s step was again in the garden, 
 in the balconies ; she played and laughed again, and 
 her father, in a transport, declared that they should soon 
 have her as hearty as anybody. Miss Ophelia and the phy 
 sician alone felt no encouragement from this illusive truce. 
 There was one other heart, too, that felt the same certainty, 
 and that was the little heart of Eva. What is it that some 
 times speaks in the soul so calmly, so clearly, that its earthly 
 time is short ? Is it the secret instinct of decaying nature, or 
 the soul s impulsive throb, as immortality draws on ? Be 
 it what it may, it rested in the heart of Eva, a calm, sweet, 
 prophetic certainty that heaven was near ; calm as the light 
 of sunset, sweet as the bright stillness of autumn, there her 
 little heart reposed, only troubled by sorrow for those who 
 loved her so dearly. 
 
24 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OK 
 
 For the child, though nursed so tenderly, and though life 
 was unfolding before her with every brightness that love 
 and wealth could give, had no regret for herself in dying. 
 
 In that book which she and her simple old friend had 
 read so much together, she had seen and taken to her young 
 heart the image of One who loved the little child ; and, as 
 she gazed and mused, he had ceased to be an image and a 
 picture of the distant past, and come to be a living, all-sur 
 rounding reality. His love enfolded her childish heart with 
 more than mortal tenderness ; and it was to him, she said, 
 she was going, and to his home. 
 
 But her heart yearned with sad tenderness for all that she 
 was to leave behind. Her father most, for Eva, though 
 she never distinctly thought so, had an instinctive percep 
 tion that she was more in his heart than any other. She 
 loved her mother because she was so loving a creature, and 
 all the selfishness that she had seen in her only saddened 
 and perplexed her ; for she had a child s implicit trust that 
 her mother could not do wrong. There was something 
 about her that Eva never could make out ; and she always 
 smoothed it over with thinking that, after all, it was mamma, 
 and she loved her very dearly indeed. 
 
 She felt, too, for those fond, faithful servants, to whom 
 she was as daylight and sunshine. Children do not usually 
 generalize ; but Eva was an uncommonly mature child, and 
 the things that she had witnessed of the evils of the system 
 under which they were living had fallen, one by one, into 
 the depths of her thoughtful, pondering heart. She had 
 vague longings to do something for them, to bless and 
 save not only them, but all in their condition, longings 
 that contrasted sadly with the feebleness of her little frame. 
 
 " Uncle Tom," she said one day, when she was reading 
 to her friend, " I can understand why Jesus wanted to die 
 for us." 
 
 " Why, Miss Eva ? " 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 25 
 
 " Because I ve felt so, too." 
 
 "What is it, Miss Eva ? I don t understand." 
 
 " I can t tell you ; but when I saw those poor creatures 
 on the boat, you know, when you came up and I, some 
 had lost their mothers, and some their husbands, and some 
 mothers cried for their little children, and when I heard 
 about poor Prue, oh, was n t that dreadful ! and a great 
 many other times, I ve felt that I would be glad to die, if 
 my dying could stop all this misery. I would die for them, 
 Tom, if I could," said the child earnestly, laying her little 
 thin hand on his. 
 
 Tom looked at the child with awe ; and when she, hear 
 ing her father s voice, glided away, he wiped his eyes many 
 times, as he looked after her. 
 
 " It s jest no use tryin to keep Miss Eva here," he said 
 to Mammy, whom he met a moment after. " She s got the 
 Lord s mark in her forehead." 
 
 " Ah, yes, yes," said Mammy, raising her hands ; " I ve 
 allers said so. She was n t never like a child that s to live, 
 
 there was allers something deep in her eyes. I ve told 
 Missis so many the time ; it s comin true, we all sees it, 
 
 dear, little, blessed lamb ! " 
 
 Eva came tripping up the veranda steps to her father. 
 It was late in the afternoon, and the rays of the sun formed 
 a kind of glory behind her, as she came forward in her white 
 dress, with her golden hair and glowing cheeks, her eyes 
 unnaturally bright with the slow fever that burned in her 
 veins. 
 
 St. Clare had called her to show a statuette that he had 
 been buying for her ; but her appearance, as she came on, 
 impressed him suddenly and painfully. There is a kind of 
 beauty so intense, yet so fragile, that we cannot bear to look 
 at it. Her father folded her suddenly in his arms, and 
 almost forgot what he was going to tell her. 
 
 " Eva, dear, you are better nowadays, are you not ? " 
 
26 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Papa/ said Eva, with sudden firmness, " I ve had 
 things I wanted to say to you a great while. I want to say 
 them now, before I get weaker. " 
 
 St. Clare trembled as Eva seated herself in his lap. She 
 laid her head on his bosom, and said, 
 
 " It s all no use, papa, to keep it to myself any longer. 
 The time is coming that I am going to leave you. I am 
 going, and never to come back ! " and Eva sobbed. 
 
 " Oh, now, my dear little Eva ! " said St. Clare, trem 
 bling as he spoke, but speaking cheerfully ; " you ve got 
 nervous and low-spirited ; you must n t indulge such gloomy 
 thoughts. See here, I ? ve bought a statuette for you ! " 
 
 " No, papa," said Eva, putting it gently away, " don t 
 deceive yourself ! I am not any better, I know it perfectly 
 well, and I am going before long. I am not nervous, 
 I am not low-spirited. If it were not for you, papa, and my 
 friends, I should be perfectly happy. I want to go, 1 long 
 to go ! " 
 
 (l Why, dear child, what has made your poor little heart 
 so sad ? You have had everything to make you happy, 
 that could be given you." 
 
 " I had rather be in heaven ; though, only for my friends 
 sake, I would be willing to live. There are a great many 
 things here that make me sad, that seem dreadful to me ; 
 I had rather be there ; but I don t want to leave you, it 
 almost breaks my heart ! " 
 
 " What makes you sad, and seems dreadful, Eva ? " 
 
 " Oh, things that are done, and done all the time. I feel 
 sad for our poor people ; they love me dearly, and they 
 are all good and kind to me. I wish, papa, they were all 
 free." 
 
 " Why, Eva, child, don t you think they are well enough 
 off now ? " 
 
 " Oh, but, papa, if anything should happen to you, what 
 would become of them ? There are very few men like you, 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 27 
 
 papa. Uncle Alfred is n t like you, and mamma is n t ; and 
 then, think of poor old Pme s owners ! What horrid things 
 people do, and can do ! " and Eva shuddered. 
 
 " My dear child, you are too sensitive. I m sorry I ever 
 let you hear such stories. 7 
 
 " Oh, that ? s what troubles me, papa. You want me to 
 live so happy, and never to have any pain, never suffer 
 anything, not even hear a sad story, when other poor crea 
 tures have nothing but pain and sorrow all their lives ; it 
 seems selfish. I ought to know such things, I ought to feel 
 about them ! Such things always sunk into my heart ; they 
 went down deep ; 1 7 ve thought and thought about them. 
 Papa, is n t there anyway to have all slaves made free ? " 
 
 " That ; s a difficult question, dearest. There s no doubt 
 that this way is a very bad one ; a great many people think 
 so ; I do myself. I heartily wish that there were not a 
 slave in the land ; but, then, I don t know what is to be 
 done about it ! " 
 
 " Papa, you are such a good man, and so noble, and 
 kind, and you always have a way of saying things that is 
 so pleasant, could n t you go all round and try to persuade 
 people to do right about this ? When I am dead, papa, 
 then you will think of me, and do it for my sake. I would 
 do it if I could." 
 
 " When you are dead, Eva! " said St. Clare passionately. 
 " Oh, child, don t talk to me so ! You are all I have on 
 earth." 
 
 " Poor old Prue s child was all that she had, and yet 
 she had to hear it crying, and she could n t help it ! Papa, 
 these poor creatures love their children as much as you do 
 me. Oh, do something for them ! There s poor Mammy 
 loves her children ; I ? ve seen her cry when she talked 
 about them. And Tom loves his children ; and it ? s dread 
 ful, papa, that such things are happening all the time ! " 
 
 " There, there, darling," said St. Clare soothingly ; " only 
 
28 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 don t distress yourself, and don t talk of dying, and I will 
 do anything you wish. 7 
 
 " And promise me, dear father, that Tom shall have his 
 freedom as soon as " she stopped, and said, in a hesitat 
 ing tone "I am gone ! " 
 
 " Yes, dear, I will do anything in the world, anything 
 you could ask me to." 
 
 " Dear papa," said the child, laying her burning cheek 
 against his, " how I wish we could go together ! " 
 
 "Where, dearest ? " said St. Clare. 
 
 " To our Saviour s home ; it 7 s so sweet and peaceful 
 there, it is all so loving there ! " The child spoke 
 unconsciously, as of a place where she had often been. 
 " Don t you want to go, papa ? " she said. 
 
 St. Clare drew her closer to him, but was silent. 
 
 " You will come to me," said the child, speaking in a 
 voice of calm certainty which she often used unconsciously. 
 
 " I shall come after you. I shall not forget you." 
 
 The shadows of the solemn evening closed round them 
 deeper and deeper as St. Clare sat silently holding the 
 little frail form to his bosom. He saw no more the deep 
 eyes, but the voice came over him as a spirit voice, and, as 
 in a sort of judgment vision, his whole past life rose in a 
 moment before his eyes : his mother s prayers and hymns ; 
 his own early yearnings and aspirings for good ; and, be 
 tween them and this hour, years of worldliness and skepti 
 cism, and what man calls respectable living. We can think 
 much, very much, in a moment. St. Clare saw and felt 
 many things, but spoke nothing ; and, as it grew darker, 
 he took his child to her bedroom ; and, when she was pre 
 pared for rest, he sent away the attendants, and rocked her 
 in his arms, and sung to her till she was asleep. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 29 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE LITTLE EVANGELIST 
 
 IT was Sunday afternoon. St. Clare was stretched on a 
 bamboo lounge in the veranda, solacing himself with a cigar. 
 Marie lay reclined on a sofa, opposite the window opening 
 on the veranda, closely secluded, under an awning of trans 
 parent gauze, from the outrages of the mosquitoes, and lan 
 guidly holding in her hand an elegantly bound prayer-book. 
 She was holding it because it was Sunday, and she imagined 
 she had been reading it, though, in fact, she had been 
 only taking a succession of short naps, with it open in her 
 hand. 
 
 Miss Ophelia, who, after some rummaging, had hunted up 
 a small Methodist meeting within riding distance, had gone 
 out, with Tom as driver, to attend it, and Eva had accompa 
 nied them. 
 
 " I say, Augustine, 7 said Marie, after dozing awhile, " I 
 must send to the city after my old Dr. Posey ; I m sure 
 I ? ve got the complaint of the heart." 
 
 " Well ; why need you send for him ? This doctor that 
 attends Eva seems skillful." 
 
 " I would not trust him in a critical case," said Marie ; 
 " and I think I may say mine is becoming so ! I ve been 
 thinking of it, these two or three nights past ; I have such 
 distressing pains and such strange feelings." 
 
 " Oh, Marie, you are blue ; I don t believe it 7 s heart 
 complaint." 
 
 " I dare say you don t," said Marie ; " I was prepared to 
 expect that. You can be alarmed enough if Eva coughs, 
 
30 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 or has the least thing the matter with her j but you never 
 think of me." 
 
 " If it s particularly agreeable to you to have heart 
 disease, why, I 11 try and maintain you have it," said St. 
 Clare ; "I did n t know it was." 
 
 " Well, I only hope you won t be sorry for this when 
 it s too late ! " said Marie ; " but, believe it or not, my 
 distress about Eva, and the exertions I have made with that 
 dear child, have developed what I have long suspected." 
 
 What the exertions were which Marie referred to, it would 
 have been difficult to state. St. Clare quietly made this 
 commentary to himself, and went on smoking, like a hard 
 hearted wretch of a man as he was, till a carriage drove up 
 before the veranda, and Eva and Miss. Ophelia alighted. 
 
 Miss Ophelia marched straight to her own chamber, to 
 put away her bonnet and shawl, as was always her manner, 
 before she spoke a word on any subject ; while Eva came, 
 at St. Clare s call, and was sitting on his knee, giving him 
 an account of the services they had heard. 
 
 They soon heard loud exclamations from Miss Ophelia s 
 room, which, like the one in which they were sitting, opened 
 on to the veranda, and violent reproof addressed to some 
 body. 
 
 " What new witchcraft has Tops been brewing ? " asked 
 St. Clare. " That commotion is of her raising, I 11 be 
 bound ! " 
 
 And, in a moment after, Miss Ophelia, in high indigna 
 tion, came dragging the culprit along. 
 
 " Come out here, now ! " she said. " I will tell your 
 master ! " 
 
 " What s the case now ? " asked Augustine." 
 
 " The case is, that I cannot be plagued with this child 
 any longer ! It ? s past all bearing flesh and blood cannot 
 endure it ! Here I locked her up, and gave her a hymn to 
 study ; and what does she do, but spy out where I put my 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 31 
 
 key, and has gone to my bureau, and got a bonnet-trimming, 
 and cut it all to pieces, to make dolls jackets ! I never saw 
 anything like it in my life ! " 
 
 " I told you, cousin," said Marie, " that you d find out 
 that these creatures can t be brought up without severity. 
 If I had my way, now," she said, looking reproachfully at 
 St. Clare, " I d send that child out, and have her thoroughly 
 whipped ; I d have her whipped till she couldn t stand ! " 
 
 " I don t doubt it," said St. Clare. " Tell me of the 
 lovely rule of woman ! I never saw above a dozen women 
 that would n t half kill a horse, or a servant, either, if they 
 had their own way with them ! let alone a man." 
 
 " There is no use in this shilly-shally way of yours, St. 
 Clare ! " said Marie. " Cousin is a woman of sense, and 
 she sees it now, as plain as I do." 
 
 Miss Ophelia had just the capability of indignation that 
 belongs to the thorough-paced housekeeper, and this had 
 been pretty actively roused by the artifice and wastefulness 
 of the child ; in fact, many of my lady readers must own 
 that they should have felt just so in her circumstances ; but 
 Marie s words went beyond her, and she felt less heat. 
 
 " I would n t have the child treated so for the world," 
 she said ; " but I am sure, Augustine, I don t know what 
 to do. I ve taught and taught ; 1 ve talked till I ? m tired ; 
 I ve whipped her ; I ve punished her in every way I can 
 think of, and still she s just what she was at first." 
 
 " Come here, Tops, you monkey ! " said St. Clare, calling 
 the child up to him. 
 
 Topsy came up ; her round, hard eyes glittering and 
 blinking with a mixture of apprehensiveness and their usual 
 odd drollery. 
 
 " What makes you behave so ? " said St. Clare, who 
 could not help being amused with the child s expression. 
 
 " Spects it s my wicked heart," said Topsy demurely; 
 " Miss Feely says so." 
 
32 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Don t you see how much Miss Ophelia has done for 
 you ? She says she has done everything she can think of." 
 
 " Lor, yes, Mas r ! old Missis used to say so, too. She 
 whipped me a heap harder, and used to pull my har, and 
 knock my head agin the door ; but it didn t do me no good ! 
 I spects, if they s to pull every spear o har out o my 
 head, it would n t do no good, neither, I s so wicked ! 
 Laws ! I s nothin but a nigger, noways." 
 
 " Well, I shall have to give her up," said Miss Ophelia. 
 " I can t have that trouble any longer." 
 
 " Well, I d just like to ask one question," said St. 
 Clare. 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " Why, if your gospel is not strong enough to save one 
 heathen child, that you can have at home here, all to your 
 self, what s the use of sending one or two poor missionaries 
 off with it among thousands of just such ? I suppose this 
 child is about a fair sample of what thousands of your 
 heathen are." 
 
 Miss Ophelia did not make an immediate answer ; and 
 Eva, who had stood a silent spectator of the scene thus 
 far, made a silent sign to Topsy to follow her. There 
 was a little glass room at the corner of the veranda, which 
 St. Clare used as a sort of reading-room ; and Eva and 
 Topsy disappeared into this place. 
 
 "What s Eva going about, now?" said St. Clare ; "I 
 mean to see." 
 
 And, advancing on tiptoe, he lifted up a curtain that 
 covered the glass door, and looked in. In a moment, lay 
 ing his finger on his lips, he made a silent gesture to Miss 
 Ophelia to come and look. There sat the two children on 
 the floor, with their side faces towards them. Topsy, 
 with her usual air of careless drollery and unconcern ; but, 
 opposite to her, Eva, her whole face fervent with feeling, 
 and tears in her large eyes. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 33 
 
 " What does make you so bad, Topsy ? Why won t you 
 try and be good ? Don t you love anybody, Topsy ? " 
 
 " Dunno nothing bout love ; I loves candy and sich, 
 that s all," said Topsy. 
 
 " But you love your father and mother ? " 
 
 " Never had none, ye know. I telled ye that, Miss 
 Eva." 
 
 " Oh, I know," said Eva sadly ; " but had n t you any 
 brother, or sister, or aunt, or " 
 
 " No, none on em, never had nothing nor nobody." 
 
 " But, Topsy, if you d only try to be good, you 
 might " - 
 
 "Couldn t never be nothin but a nigger, if I was ever 
 so good," said Topsy. " If I could be skinned, and come 
 white, I d try then." 
 
 " But people can love you if you are black, Topsy. Miss 
 Ophelia would love you if you were good." 
 
 Topsy gave the short, blunt laugh that was her common 
 mode of expressing incredulity. 
 
 " Don t you think so ? " said Eva. 
 
 " No ; she can t bar me, cause 1 7 m a nigger ! she d 
 7 s soon have a toad touch her ! There can t nobody love 
 niggers, and niggers can t do nothin ! I don t care," said 
 Topsy, beginning to whistle. 
 
 "Oh, Topsy, poor child, / love you! " said Eva, with 
 a sudden burst of feeling, and laying her little thin, white 
 hand on Topsy s shoulder ; "I love you because you have n t 
 had any father, or mother, or friends ; because you *ve 
 been a poor, abused child ! I love you, and I want you to 
 be good. I am very unwell, Topsy, and I think I sha n t 
 live a great while; and it really grieves me to have you 
 be so naughty. I wish you would try to be good, for my 
 sake ; it s only a little while I shall be with you." 
 
 The round, keen eyes of the black child were overcast 
 with tears ; large, bright drops rolled heavily down, one 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
34 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 by one, and fell on the little white hand. Yes, in that 
 moment, a ray of real belief, a ray of heavenly love, had 
 penetrated the darkness of her heathen soul ! She laid her 
 head down between her knees, and wept and sobbed, 
 while the beautiful child, bending over her, looked like the 
 picture of some bright angel stooping to reclaim a sinner. 
 
 " Poor Topsy ! " said Eva, " don t you know that Jesus 
 loves all alike ? He is just as willing to love you as me. 
 He loves you just as I do, only more, because he is bet 
 ter. He will help you to be good; and you can go to 
 heaven at last, and be an angel forever, just as much as if 
 you were white. Only think of it, Topsy ! you can be 
 one of those spirits bright Uncle Tom sings about." 
 
 " Oh, dear Miss Eva, dear Miss Eva ! " said the child, 
 " I will try, I will try ; I never did care nothin about it 
 before." 
 
 St. Clare, at this instant, dropped the curtain. " It puts 
 me in mind of mother," he said to Miss Ophelia. " It is 
 true what she told me : if we want to give sight to the 
 blind, we must be willing to do as Christ did, call them 
 to us, and put our hands on them." 
 
 " I ve always had a prejudice against negroes," said Miss 
 Ophelia, " and it s a fact, I never could bear to have that 
 child touch me ; but I did n t think she knew it." 
 
 " Trust any child to find that out," said St. Clare; 
 " there s no keeping it from them. But I believe that 
 all the trying in the world to benefit a child, and all the 
 substantial favors you can do them, will never excite one 
 emotion of gratitude, while that feeling of repugnance re 
 mains in the heart ; it s a queer kind of a fact, but so 
 it is." 
 
 " I don t know how I can help it," said Miss Ophelia ; 
 " they are disagreeable to me, this child in particular, 
 how can I help feeling so ? " 
 
 " Eva does, it seems." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 35 
 
 " Well, she s so loving ! After all, though, she 7 s no 
 more than Christ-like/ 7 said Miss Ophelia ; " I wish I 
 were like her. She might teach me a lesson." 
 
 " It would n t be the first time a little child had been 
 used to instruct an old disciple, if it were so," said St. 
 Clare. 
 
36 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 DEATH 
 
 " Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb, 
 In life s earl} 7 morning, hath hid from our eyes." 
 
 EVA S bedroom was a spacious apartment, which, like 
 all the other rooms in the house, opened on to the broad 
 veranda. The room communicated, on one side, with her 
 father and mother s apartment ; on the other, with that 
 appropriated to Miss Ophelia. St. Clare had gratified his 
 own eye and taste, in furnishing this room in a style that 
 had a peculiar keeping with the character of her for whom 
 it was intended. The windows were hung with curtains of 
 rose-colored and white muslin ; the floor was spread with a 
 matting which had been ordered in Paris, to a pattern of 
 his own device, having round it a border of rosebuds and 
 leaves, and a centre-piece with full-blown roses. The bed 
 stead, chairs, and lounges were of bamboo, wrought in pecu 
 liarly graceful and fanciful patterns. Over the head of the 
 bed was an alabaster bracket, on which a beautiful sculp 
 tured angel stood, with drooping wings, holding out a 
 crown of myrtle-leaves. From this depended, over the bed, 
 light curtains of rose-colored gauze, striped with silver, sup 
 plying that protection from mosquitoes which is an indis 
 pensable addition to all sleeping accommodation in that cli 
 mate. The graceful bamboo lounges were amply supplied 
 with cushions of rose-colored damask, while over them, de 
 pending from the hands of sculptured figures, were gauze 
 curtains similar to those of the bed. A light, fanciful 
 bamboo table stood in the middle of the room, where a 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 37 
 
 Parian vase, wrought in the shape of a white lily, with its 
 buds, stood, ever filled with flowers. On this table lay 
 Eva s books and little trinkets, with an elegantly wrought 
 alabaster writing-stand which her father had supplied to 
 her when he saw her trying to improve herself in writing. 
 There was a fireplace in the room, and on the marble man 
 tel above stood a beautifully wrought statuette of Jesus 
 receiving little children, and on either side marble vases, 
 for which it was Tom s pride and delight to offer bouquets 
 every morning. Two or three exquisite paintings of children, 
 in various attitudes, embellished the wall. In short, the 
 eye could turn nowhere without meeting images of childhood, 
 of beauty, and of peace. Those little eyes never opened, 
 in the morning light, without falling on something which 
 suggested to the heart soothing and beautiful thoughts. 
 
 The deceitful strength which had buoyed Eva up for a 
 little while was fast passing away ; seldom and more seldom 
 her light footstep was heard in the veranda, and oftener 
 and oftener she was found reclined on a little lounge by the 
 open window, her large, deep eyes fixed on the rising and 
 falling waters of the lake. 
 
 It was towards the middle of the afternoon, as she was 
 so reclining, her Bible half open, her little transparent 
 fingers lying listlessly between the leaves ; suddenly she 
 heard her mother s voice, in sharp tones, in the veranda. 
 
 " What now, you baggage ! what new piece of mis 
 chief ! You ve been picking the flowers, hey ? " and Eva 
 heard the sound of a smart slap. 
 
 / Law, Missis ! they s for Miss Eva," she heard a 
 voice say, which she knew belonged to Topsy. 
 
 " Miss Eva ! A pretty excuse ! you suppose she wants 
 your flowers, you good-for-nothing nigger ! Get along off 
 with you ! " 
 
 In a moment, Eva w r as off from her lounge, and in the 
 veranda. 
 
38 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 " Oh, don t, mother ! I should like the flowers ; do 
 give them to me ; I want them ! " 
 
 " Why, Eva, your room is full now." 
 
 " I can t have too many," said Eva. " Topsy, do bring 
 them here." 
 
 Topsy who had stood sullenly holding down her head, 
 now came up and offered her flowers. She did it with a 
 look of hesitation and bashfulness, quite unlike the eldrich 
 boldness and brightness which was usual with her. 
 
 " It s a beautiful bouquet ! " said Eva, looking at it. 
 
 It was rather a singular one, a brilliant scarlet geranium, 
 and one single white japonica, with its glossy leaves. It 
 was tied up with an evident eye to the contrast of color, and 
 the arrangement of every leaf had carefully been studied. 
 
 Topsy looked pleased, as Eva said, " Topsy, you arrange 
 flowers very prettily. Here," she said, "is this vase I 
 have n t any flowers for. I wish you d arrange something 
 every day for it." 
 
 " Well, that s odd ! " said Marie. " What in the world 
 do you want that for ? " 
 
 " Never mind, mamma ; you d as lief as not Topsy 
 should do it, had you not ? " 
 
 " Of course, anything you please, dear ! Topsy, you hear 
 your young mistress ; see that you mind." 
 
 Topsy made a short curtsy, and looked down ; and, as 
 she turned away, Eva saw a tear roll down her dark 
 cheek. 
 
 " You see, mamma, I knew poor Topsy wanted to do 
 something for me," said Eva to her mother. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! it s only because she likes to do mis 
 chief. She knows she must n t pick flowers, so she does 
 it, that 7 s all there is to it. But if you fancy to have her 
 pluck them, so be it." 
 
 " Mamma, I think Topsy is different from what she used 
 to be ; she s trying to be a good girl." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 39 
 
 " She 11 have to try a good while before she gets to be 
 good," said Marie with a careless laugh. 
 
 " Well, you know, mamma, poor Topsy ! everything has 
 always been against her." 
 
 " Not since she s been here, I m sure. If she has n t 
 been talked to, and preached to, and every earthly thing 
 done that anybody could do ; and she s just so ugly, and 
 always will be ; you can t make anything of the creature ! " 
 
 " But, mamma, it s so different to be brought up as I ve 
 been, with so many friends, so many things to make me 
 good and happy ; and to be brought up as she 7 s been, all 
 the time, till she came here ! " 
 
 " Most likely," said Marie, yawning, " dear me, how 
 hot it is ! " 
 
 " Mamma, you believe, don t you, that Topsy could be 
 come an angel, as well as any of us, if she were a Christian ? " 
 
 " Topsy ! what a ridiculous idea ! Nobody but you 
 would ever think of it. I suppose she could, though." 
 
 " But, mamma, is n t God her father as much as ours ? 
 Is n t Jesus her Saviour ? " 
 
 " Well, that may be. I suppose God made everybody," 
 said Marie. " Where is my smelling-bottle ? " 
 
 " It s such a pity, oh ! such a pity ! " said Eva, look 
 ing out on the distant lake, and speaking half to herself. 
 
 " What s a pity ? " said Marie. 
 
 "Why, that any one, who could be a bright angel, and 
 live with angels, should go all down, down, down, and 
 nobody help them ! Oh, dear ! " 
 
 " Well, we can t help it ; it s no use worrying, Eva ! I 
 don t know what s to be done ; we ought to be thankful 
 for our own advantages." 
 
 " I hardly can be," said Eva, " I ? m so sorry to think of 
 poor folks that have n t any." 
 
 " That s odd enough," said Marie ; " I m sure my 
 religion makes me thankful for my advantages." 
 
40 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Mamma/ said Eva, " I want to have some of my hair 
 cut off, a good deal of it." 
 
 " What for ? " said Marie. 
 
 " Mamma, I want to give some away to my friends, while 
 I am able to give it to them myself. Won t you ask aunty 
 to come and cut it for me ? " 
 
 Marie raised her voice, and called Miss Ophelia from the 
 other room. 
 
 The child half rose from her pillow as she came in, and, 
 shaking down her long golden-brown curls, said, rather 
 playfully, " Corne, aunty, shear the sheep ! " 
 
 "What s that?" said St. Clare, who just then entered 
 with some fruit he had been out to get for her. 
 
 " Papa, I just want aunty to cut off some of my hair ; 
 there s too much of it, and it makes my head hot. Besides, 
 I want to give some of it away." 
 
 Miss Ophelia came, with her scissors. 
 
 " Take care, don t spoil the looks of it ! " said her 
 father ; " cut underneath, where it won t show. Eva s 
 curls are my pride." 
 
 " Oh, papa ! " said Eva sadly. 
 
 " Yes, and I want them kept handsome against the time 
 I take you up to your uncle s plantation, to see Cousin 
 Henrique," said St. Clare, in a gay tone. 
 
 " I shall never go there, papa ; I am going to a better 
 country. Oh, do believe me ! Don t you see, papa, that I 
 get weaker every day ? " 
 
 "Why do you insist that I shall believe such a cruel 
 thing, Eva ? " said her father. 
 
 " Only because it is true, papa ; and if you will believe 
 it now, perhaps you will get to feel about it as I do." 
 
 St. Clare closed his lips, and stood gloomily eyeing the 
 long, beautiful curls, which, as they were separated from the 
 child s head, were laid, one by one, in her lap. She raised 
 them up, looked earnestly at them, twined them around her 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 41 
 
 thin fingers, and looked from time to time anxiously at her 
 father. 
 
 " It s just what I ve been foreboding ! " said Marie ; 
 "it s just what has been preying on my health, from day 
 to day, bringing me downward to the grave, though nobody 
 regards it. I have seen this long. St. Clare, you will see, 
 after a while, that I was right." 
 
 " Which will afford you great consolation, no doubt ! " 
 said St. Clare, in a dry, bitter tone. 
 
 Marie lay back on a lounge, and covered her face with 
 her cambric handkerchief. 
 
 Eva s clear blue eye looked earnestly from one to the 
 other. It was the calm, comprehending gaze of a soul half 
 loosed from its earthly bonds ; it was evident she saw, felt, 
 and appreciated the difference between the two. 
 
 She beckoned with her hand to her father. He came, 
 and sat down by her. 
 
 " Papa, my strength fades away every day, and I know I 
 must go. There are some things I want to say and do, 
 that I ought to do ; and you are so unwilling to have me 
 speak a word on the subject. But it must come ; there 7 s no 
 putting it off. Do be willing I should speak now ! " 
 
 " My child, I am willing ! " said St. Clare, covering his 
 eyes with one hand, and holding up Eva s hand with the 
 other. 
 
 " Then, I want to see all our people together. I have 
 some things I must say to them," said Eva. 
 
 " Well" said St. Clare, in a tone of dry endurance. 
 
 Miss Ophelia dispatched a messenger, and soon the whole 
 of the servants were convened in the room. 
 
 Eva lay back on her pillows ; her hair hanging loosely 
 about her face, her crimson cheeks contrasting painfully 
 with the intense whiteness of her complexion and the thin 
 contour of her limbs and features, and her large, soul-like 
 eyes fixed earnestly on every one. 
 
42 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 The servants were struck with a sudden emotion. The 
 spiritual face, the long locks of hair cut off and lying by 
 her, her father s averted face, and Marie s sobs, struck at 
 once upon the feelings of a sensitive and impressible race ; 
 and, as they came in, they looked one on another, sighed, 
 and shook their heads. There was a deep silence, like that 
 of a funeral. 
 
 Eva raised herself, and looked long and earnestly round 
 at every one. All looked sad and apprehensive. Many of 
 the women hid their faces in their aprons. 
 
 " I sent for you all, my dear friends," said Eva, " because 
 I love you. I love you all ; and I have something to say 
 to you, which I want you always to remember. ... I am 
 going to leave you. In a few more weeks you will see me 
 no more " 
 
 Here the child was interrupted by bursts of groans, sobs 
 and lamentations, which broke from all present, and in 
 which her slender voice was lost entirely. She waited a 
 moment, and then, speaking in a tone that checked the 
 sobs of all, she said, 
 
 " If you love me you must not interrupt me so. Listen 
 to what I say. I want to speak to you about your souls. 
 . . . Many of you, I am afraid, are very careless. You 
 are thinking only about this world. I want you to re 
 member that there is a beautiful world where Jesus is. I 
 am going there, and you can go there. It is for you as 
 much as me. But if you want to go there, you must not 
 live idle, careless, thoughtless lives. You must be Chris 
 tians. You must remember that each one of you can be 
 come angels, and be angels forever. ... If you want to 
 be Christians, Jesus will help you. You must pray to 
 him ; you must read " 
 
 The child checked herself, looked piteously at them, and 
 said sorrowfully, 
 
 " Oh, dear ! you can t read, poor souls ! " and she hid 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 43 
 
 her face in the pillow and sobbed, while many a smothered 
 sob from those she was addressing, who were kneeling on 
 the floor, aroused her. 
 
 " Never mind, 7 she said, raising her face, and smiling 
 brightly through her tears, " I have prayed for you ; and I 
 know Jesus will help you, even if you can t read. Try all 
 to do the best you can ; pray every day ; ask him to help 
 you, and get the Bible read to you whenever you can ; and 
 I think I shall see you all in heaven." 
 
 "Amen," was the murmured response from the lips of 
 Tom and Mammy, and some of the elder ones, who be 
 longed to the Methodist Church. The younger and more 
 thoughtless ones, for the time completely overcome, were 
 sobbing, with their heads bowed upon their knees. 
 
 " I know," said Eva, " you all love me." 
 
 " Yes, oh, yes ! indeed we do ! Lord bless her ! " was 
 the involuntary answer of all. 
 
 " Yes, I know you do ! There is n t one of you that 
 has n t always been very kind to me ; and I want to give 
 you something that, when you look at, you shall always 
 remember me. I m going to give all of you a curl of my 
 hair ; and, when you look at it, think that I loved you and 
 am gone to heaven, and that I want to see you all there." 
 
 It is impossible to describe the scene as, with tears and 
 sobs, they gathered round the little creature, and took from 
 her hands what seemed to them a last mark of her love. 
 They fell on their knees ; they sobbed, and prayed, and 
 kissed the hem of her garment j and the elder ones poured 
 forth words of endearment, mingled in prayers and blessings, 
 after the manner of their susceptible race. 
 
 As each one took their gift, Miss Ophelia, who was ap 
 prehensive for the effect of all this excitement on her little 
 patient, signed to each one to pass out of the apartment. 
 
 At last, all were gone but Tom and Mammy. 
 
 " Here, Uncle Tom," said Eva, " is a beautiful one for 
 
44 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 you. Oh, I am so happy, Uncle Tom, to think I shall see 
 you in heaven, for I m sure I shall ; and Mammy, 
 dear, good, kind Mammy ! " she said, fondly throwing her 
 arms round her old nurse, "I know you 11 be there, 
 too." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Eva, don t see how I can live without ye, no 
 how ! " said the faithful creature. " Pears like it s just 
 taking everything off the place to oncet ! " and Mammy 
 gave way to a passion of grief. 
 
 Miss Ophelia pushed her and Tom gently from the apart 
 ment, and thought they were all gone ; but, as she turned, 
 Topsy was standing there. 
 
 " Where did you start up from ? " she said suddenly. 
 
 " I was here," said Topsy, wiping the tears from her 
 eyes. " Oh, Miss Eva, I ve been a bad girl ; but won t you 
 give me one, too ? " 
 
 " Yes, poor Topsy ! to be sure I will. There every 
 time you look at that, think that I love you, and wanted 
 you to be a good girl ! " 
 
 " Oh, Miss Eva, I is tryin ! " said Topsy earnestly ; 
 " but, Lor, it s so hard to be good. Pears like I ain t used 
 to it, noways ! " 
 
 " Jesus knows it, Topsy ; he is sorry for you ; he will 
 help you." 
 
 Topsy, with her eyes hid in her apron, was silently passed 
 from the apartment by Miss Ophelia ; but, as she went, she 
 hid the precious curl in her bosom. 
 
 All being gone, Miss Ophelia shut the door. That wor 
 thy lady had wiped away many tears of her own during 
 the scene ; but concern for the consequence of such an ex 
 citement to her young charge was uppermost in her mind. 
 
 St. Clare had been sitting, during the whole time, with 
 his hand shading his eyes, in the same attitude. When 
 they were all gone, he sat so, still. 
 
 " Papa ! " said Eva gently, laying her hand on his. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 45 
 
 He gave a sudden start and shiver ; but made no answer. 
 
 " Dear papa ! " said Eva. 
 
 " I cannot" said St. Clare, rising, "I cannot have it 
 so ! The Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me ! " and 
 St. Clare pronounced these words with a bitter emphasis 
 indeed. 
 
 " Augustine ! has not God a right to do what he will 
 with his own ? " said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but that does n t make it any easier to 
 bear," said he, with a dry, hard, tearless manner, as he 
 turned away. 
 
 " Papa, you break my heart ! " said Eva, rising and throw 
 ing herself into his arms ; " you must not feel so ! " and 
 the child sobbed and wept with a violence which alarmed 
 them all, and turned her father s thoughts at once to another 
 channel. 
 
 " There, Eva, there, dearest ! Hush ! hush ! I was 
 wrong ; I was wicked. I will feel any way, do any way, 
 only don t distress yourself ; don t sob so. I will be re 
 signed ; I was wicked to speak as I did." 
 
 Eva soon lay like a wearied dove in her father s arms ; 
 and he, bending over her, soothed her by every tender word 
 he could think of. 
 
 Marie rose and threw herself out of the apartment into her 
 own, when she fell into violent hysterics. 
 
 " You did n t give me a curl, Eva," said her father, smil 
 ing sadly. 
 
 " They are all yours, papa," said she smiling, " yours 
 and mamma s ; and you must give dear aunty as many as 
 she wants. I only gave them to our poor people myself, 
 because you know, papa, they might be forgotten when I 
 am gone, and because I hoped it might help them remem- 
 ber ; . . . You are a Christian, are you not, papa ? " said 
 Eva doubtfully. 
 
 " Why do you ask me ? " 
 
46 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 "I don t know. You are so good, I don t see how you 
 can help it." 
 
 " What is being a Christian, Eva ? " 
 
 " Loving Christ most of all/ 7 said Eva. 
 
 " Do you, Eva ? " 
 
 " Certainly I do." 
 
 " You never saw him," said St. Clare. 
 
 " That makes no difference," said Eva. " I believe him, 
 and in a few days I shall see him ; " and the young face 
 grew fervent, radiant with joy. 
 
 St. Clare said no more. It was a feeling which he had 
 seen before in his mother ; but no chord within vibrated to it. 
 
 Eva, after this, declined rapidly ; there was no more any 
 doubt of the event ; the fondest hope could not be blinded. 
 Her beautiful room was avowedly a sick-room, and Miss 
 Ophelia day and night performed the duties of a nurse, 
 and never did her friends appreciate her value more than 
 in that capacity. With so well-trained a hand and eyej 
 such perfect adroitness and practice in every art which could 
 promote neatness and comfort, and keep out of sight every 
 disagreeable incident of sickness, with such a perfect 
 sense of time, such a clear, untroubled head, such exact 
 accuracy in remembering every prescription and direction 
 of the doctor s, she was everything to him. They who 
 had shrugged their shoulders at her little peculiarities and 
 setnesses, so unlike the careless freedom of Southern man- 
 ners, acknowledged that now she was the exact person that 
 was wanted. 
 
 Uncle Tom was much in Eva s room. The child suf 
 fered much from nervous restlessness, and it was a relief to 
 her to be carried ; and it was Tom s greatest delight to 
 carry her little frail form in his arms, resting on a pillow, 
 now up and down her room, now out into the veranda ; 
 and when the fresh sea-breezes blew from the lake, and 
 the child felt freshest in the morning, he would some- 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 47 
 
 times walk with her under the orange-trees in the garden, 
 or, sitting down in some of their old seats, sing to her their 
 favorite old hymns. 
 
 Her father often did the same thing ; but his frame was 
 slighter, and when he was weary, Eva would say to him, 
 
 " Oh, papa, let Tom take me. Poor fellow ! it pleases 
 him, and you know it s all he can do now, and he wants to 
 do something ! " 
 
 " So do I, Eva ! " said her father. 
 
 " Well, papa, you can do everything, and are everything 
 to me. You read to me, you sit up nights, and Tom 
 has only this one thing, and his singing ; and I know, too, 
 he does it easier than you can. He carries me so strong ! " 
 
 The desire to do something was not confined to Tom. 
 Every servant in the establishment showed the same feel 
 ing, and in their way did what they could. 
 
 Poor Mammy s heart yearned towards her darling ; but 
 she found no opportunity, night or day, as Marie declared 
 that the state of her mind was such it was impossible for 
 her to rest ; and of course it was against her principles to 
 let any one else rest. Twenty times in a night, Mammy 
 would be roused to rub her feet, to bathe her head, to find 
 her pocket-handkerchief, to see what the noise was in Eva s 
 room, to let down a curtain because it was too light, or to 
 put it up because it was too dark ; and in the daytime, 
 when she longed to have some share in the nursing of her 
 pet, Marie seemed unusually ingenious in keeping her busy 
 anywhere and everywhere all over the house, or about her 
 own person ; so that stolen interviews and momentary 
 glimpses were all she could obtain. 
 
 " I feel it my duty to be particularly careful of myself 
 now," she would say, " feeble as I am, and with the whole 
 care and nursing of that dear child upon me." 
 
 Indeed, my dear," said St. Clare, "I thought our cousin 
 relieved you of that." 
 
48 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " You talk like a man, St. Clare, just as if a mother 
 could be relieved of the care of a child in that state ; but 
 then it s all alike, no one ever knows what I feel ! I 
 can t throw things off as you do." 
 
 St. Clare smiled. You must excuse him, he couldn t 
 help it,. for St. Clare could smile yet. For so bright and 
 placid was the farewell voyage of the little spirit, by 
 such sweet and fragrant breezes was the small bark borne 
 towards the heavenly shores, that it was impossible to 
 realize that it was death that was approaching. The child 
 felt no pain, only a tranquil, soft weakness, daily and 
 almost insensibly increasing ; and she was so beautiful, so 
 loving, so trustful, so happy, that one could not resist the 
 soothing influence of that air of innocence and peace which 
 seemed to breathe around her. St. Clare found a strange 
 calm coming over him. It was not hope, that was impos 
 sible ; it was not resignation ; it was only a calm resting in 
 the present, which seemed so beautiful that he wished to 
 think of no future. It was like that hush of spirit which 
 we feel amid the bright, mild woods of autumn, when the 
 bright hectic flush is on the trees, and the last lingering 
 flowers by the brook ; and we joy in it all the more be 
 cause we know that soon it will all pass away. 
 
 The friend who knew most of Eva s own imaginings and 
 foreshadowings was her faithful bearer, Tom. To him she 
 said what she would not disturb her father by saying. To 
 him she imparted those mysterious intimations which the 
 soul feels, as the cords begin to unbind, ere it leaves its 
 clay forever. 
 
 Tom, at last, would not sleep in his room, but lay all 
 night in the outer veranda, ready to rouse at .every call. 
 
 " Uncle Tom, what alive have you taken to sleeping any 
 where and everywhere, like a dog, for ? " said Miss Ophelia. 
 " I thought you was one of the orderly sort, that liked to 
 lie in bed in a Christian way." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 49 
 
 " I do, Miss Feely," said Tom mysteriously, " I do ; 
 but now " 
 
 " Well, what now ? " 
 
 " We must n t speak loud ; Mas r St. Clare won t hear 
 on t ; but, Miss Feely, you know there must be somebody 
 watchin for the bridegroom. 7 
 
 " What do you mean, Tom ? " 
 
 " You know it says in Scripture, At midnight there was 
 a great cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh. That s 
 what I m spectin now every night, Miss Feely, and I 
 could n t sleep out o hearin , noways." 
 
 " Why, Uncle Tom, what makes you think so ? " 
 
 " Miss Eva, she talks to me. The Lord, he sends his 
 messenger in the soul. I must be thar, Miss Feely ; for 
 when that ar blessed child goes into the kingdom, they 11 
 open the door so wide we 11 all get a look in at the glory, 
 Miss Feely." 
 
 " Uncle Tom, did Miss Eva say she felt more unwell 
 than usual to-night ? " 
 
 " No, but she telled me, this morning, she was coming 
 nearer, thar s them that tells it to the child, Miss Feely. 
 It s the angels, it s the trumpet sound afore the break 
 o day, " said Tom, quoting from a favorite hymn. 
 
 This dialogue passed between Miss Ophelia and Tom, 
 between ten and eleven one evening, after her arrangements 
 had all been made for the night, when, on going to bolt her 
 outer door, she found Tom stretched along by it, in the outer 
 veranda. 
 
 She was not nervous or impressible ; but the solemn, 
 heart-felt manner struck her. Eva had been unusually 
 bright and cheerful that afternoon, and had sat raised in 
 her bed, and looked over all her little trinkets and precious 
 things, and designated the friends to whom she would have 
 them given ; and her manner was more animated, and her 
 voice more natural, than they had known it for weeks. Her 
 
 VOL, II, 
 
50 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 father had been in, in the evening, and had said that Eva 
 appeared more like her former self than ever she had done 
 since her sickness ; and when he kissed her for the night, 
 he said to Miss Ophelia, " Cousin, we may keep her with 
 us, after all ; she is certainly better ; " and he had retired 
 with a lighter heart in his bosom than he had had for 
 weeks. 
 
 But at midnight, strange, mystic hour ! when the 
 veil between the frail present and the eternal future grows 
 thin, then came the messenger ! 
 
 There was a sound in that chamber, first of one who 
 stepped quickly. It was Miss Ophelia, who had resolved 
 to sit up all night with her little charge, and who, at the 
 turn of the night, had discerned what experienced nurses 
 significantly call " a change." The outer door was quickly 
 opened, and Tom, who was watching outside, was on the 
 alert, in a moment. 
 
 " Go for the doctor, Tom ! lose not a moment," said Miss 
 Ophelia; and, stepping across the room, she rapped at St. 
 Clare s door. 
 
 " Cousin," she said, " I wish you would come." 
 
 Those words fell on his heart like clods upon a coffin. 
 Why did they ? He was up and in the room in an instant, 
 and bending over Eva, who still slept. 
 
 What was it he saw that made his heart stand still ? 
 Why was no word spoken between the two ? Thou canst 
 say, who hast seen that same expression on the face dearest 
 to thee, that look indescribable, hopeless, unmistakable, 
 that says to thee that thy beloved is no longer thine. 
 
 On the face of the child, however, there was no ghastly 
 imprint, only a high and almost sublime expression, 
 the overshadowing presence of spiritual natures, the dawning 
 of immortal life in that childish soul. 
 
 They stood there so still, gazing upon her, that even the 
 ticking of the watch seemed too loud. In a few moments 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 51 
 
 Tom returned with the doctor. He entered, gave one look, 
 and stood silent as the rest. 
 
 " When did this change take place ? " said he, in a low 
 whisper to Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "About the turn of the night," was the reply. 
 
 Marie, roused by the entrance of the doctor, appeared 
 hurriedly from the next room. 
 
 " Augustine ! Cousin ! Oh ! what ! " she hurriedly 
 began. 
 
 " Hush ! " said St. Clare hoarsely ; " she is dying f " 
 
 Mammy heard the words and flew to awaken the servants. 
 The house was soon aroused, lights were seen, footsteps 
 heard, anxious faces thronged the veranda, and looking 
 tearfully through the glass doors; but St. Clare heard and 
 said nothing, he saw only that look on the face of the 
 little sleeper. 
 
 " Oh, if she would only wake and speak once more ! " he 
 said ; and, stooping over her, he spoke in her ear, " Eva 
 darling ! " 
 
 The large blue eyes unclosed, a smile passed over her 
 face ; she tried to raise her head and to speak. 
 
 " Do you know me, Eva ? " 
 
 " Dear papa," said the child with a last effort, throwing 
 her arms about his neck. In a moment they dropped again, 
 and as St. Clare raised his head, he saw a spasm of mortal 
 agony pass over the face, she struggled for breath, and 
 threw up her little hands. 
 
 " God, this is dreadful ! " he said, turning away in 
 agony, and wringing Tom s hand, scarce conscious what he 
 was doing. " Oh, Tom, my boy, it is killing me ! " 
 
 Tom had his master s hands between his own ; and, with 
 tears streaming down his dark cheeks, looked up for help 
 where he had always been used to look. 
 
 " Pray that this may be cut short ! " said St. Clare, 
 " this wrings my heart." 
 
52 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Oh, bless the Lord ! it s over, it s over, dear 
 Master ! " said Tom ; " look at her." 
 
 The child lay panting on her pillows, as one exhausted, 
 the large clear eyes rolled up and fixed. And what 
 said those eyes, that spoke so much of heaven ? Earth was 
 past, and earthly pain ; hut so solemn, so mysterious, was 
 the triumphant brightness of that face that it choked even 
 the sobs of sorrow. They pressed around her in breathless 
 stillness. 
 
 " Eva," said St. Clare gently. 
 
 She did not hear. 
 
 " Oh, Eva, tell us what you see ! What is it ? " said 
 her father. 
 
 A bright, a glorious smile passed over her face, and she 
 said brokenly, " Oh ! love, joy, peace ! " gave one sigh, 
 and passed from death unto life ! 
 
 Farewell, beloved child ! the bright, eternal doors have 
 closed after thee ; we shall see thy sweet face no more. 
 Oh, woe for them who watched thy entrance into heaven, 
 when they shall wake and find only the cold gray sky of 
 daily life, and thou gone forever ! 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 53 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVII 
 
 " THIS IS THE LAST OF EARTH " 
 
 John Q. Adams. 
 
 THE statuettes and pictures in -Eva s room were shrouded 
 in white napkins, and only hushed breathings and muffled 
 footfalls were heard there, and the light stole in solemnly 
 through windows partially darkened by closed blinds. The 
 bed was draped in white ; and there, beneath the drooping 
 angel figure, lay a little sleeping form, sleeping never to 
 waken ! 
 
 There she lay, robed in one of the simple Avhite dresses 
 she had been wont to wear when living ; the rose-colored 
 light through the curtains cast over the icy coldness of 
 death a warm glow. The heavy eyelashes drooped softly 
 on the pure cheek ; the head was turned a little to one side, 
 as if in natural sleep, but there was diffused over every 
 lineament of the face that high celestial expression, that 
 mingling of rapture and repose, which showed it was no 
 earthly or temporary sleep, but the long, sacred rest which 
 "He giveth to his beloved. 
 
 There is no death to such as thou, dear Eva ! neither 
 darkness nor shadow of death ; only such a bright fading 
 as when the morning star fades in the golden dawn. Thine 
 is the victory without the battle, the crown without the 
 conflict. 
 
 So did St. Clare think, as, with folded arms, he stood 
 there gazing. Ah ! who shall say what he did think ? for, 
 from the hour that voices had said, in the dying chamber, 
 " She is gone," it had been all a dreary mist, a heavy " dim 
 ness of anguish." He had heard voices around him, he 
 
54 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 had had questions asked, and answered them ; they had 
 asked him when he would have the funeral, and where 
 they should lay her ; and he had answered, impatiently, 
 that he cared not. 
 
 Adolph and Rosa had arranged the chamber ; volatile, 
 fickle, and childish as they generally were, they were soft 
 hearted and full of feeling ; and, while Miss Ophelia pre 
 sided over the general details of order and neatness, it was 
 their hands that added those soft, poetic touches to the ar 
 rangements that took from the death-room the grim and 
 ghastly air which too often marks a New England funeral. 
 
 There were still flowers on the shelves, all white, deli 
 cate, and fragrant, with graceful, drooping leaves. Eva s 
 little table, covered with white, bore on it her favorite vase, 
 with a single white moss rosebud in it. The folds of the 
 drapery, the fall of the curtains, had been arranged and 
 rearranged by Adolph and Rosa, with that nicety of eye 
 which characterizes their race. Even now, while St. Clare 
 stood there thinking, little Rosa tripped softly into the 
 chamber with a basket of white flowers. She stepped back 
 when she saw St. Clare, and stopped respectfully ; but, 
 seeing that he did not observe her, she came forward to 
 place them around the dead. St. Clare saw her as in a 
 dream, while she placed in the small hands a fair cape jes 
 samine, and with admirable taste disposed other flowers 
 around the couch. 
 
 The door opened again, and Topsy, her eyes swelled 
 with crying, appeared, holding something under her apron. 
 Rosa made a quick, forbidding gesture ; but she took a step 
 into the room. 
 
 " You must go out," said Rosa, in a sharp, positive 
 whisper ; " you have n t any business here ! " 
 
 " Oh, do let me ! I brought a flower, such a pretty 
 one ! " said Topsy, holding up a half -blown tea rosebud. 
 " Do let me put just one there." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 55 
 
 " Get along/* said Rosa more decidedly. 
 
 " Let her stay ! " said St. Clare, suddenly stamping his 
 foot. " She shall come. * 
 
 Rosa suddenly retreated, and Topsy came forward and 
 laid her offering at the feet of the corpse ; then suddenly, 
 with a wild and bitter cry, she threw herself on the floor 
 alongside the bed, and wept, and moaned aloud. 
 
 Miss Ophelia hastened into the room, and tried to raise 
 and silence her ; but in vain. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Eva ! oh, Miss Eva ! I wish I ? s dead, too, 
 - I do ! " 
 
 There was a piercing wildness in the cry ; the blood 
 flushed into St. Clare s white, marble-like face, and the first 
 tears he had shed since Eva died stood in his eyes. 
 
 " Get up, child," said Miss Ophelia, in a softened voice ; 
 " don t cry so. Miss Eva is gone to heaven ; she is an 
 angel." 
 
 " But I can t see her ! " said Topsy. " I never shall see 
 her ! " and she sobbed again. 
 
 They all stood a moment in silence. 
 
 " She said she loved me," said Topsy, " she did ! 
 Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! there ain t nobody left now, there 
 ain t ! " 
 
 " That s true enough," said St. Clare ; " but do," he said 
 to Miss Ophelia, " see if you can t comfort the poor crea 
 ture." 
 
 " I jist wish I had n t never been born," said Topsy. 
 " I did n t want to be born, noways ; and I don t see no use 
 on t." 
 
 Miss Ophelia raised her gently but firmly, and took her 
 from the room ; but as she did so, some tears fell from her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Topsy, you poor child," she said, as she led her into 
 her room, " don t give up ! / can love you, though I am 
 not like that dear little child. I hope 1 7 ve learnt some- 
 
56 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 thing of the love of Christ from her. I can love you ; I do ; 
 and I 11 try to help you to grow up a good Christian girl." 
 
 Miss Ophelia s voice was more than her words, and more 
 than that were the honest tears that fell down her face. 
 From that hour she acquired an influence over the mind of 
 the destitute child that she never lost. 
 
 " Oh, my Eva, whose little hour on earth did so much 
 of good," thought St. Clare, " what account have I to give 
 for my long years ? " 
 
 There were, for a while, soft whisperings and footfalls in 
 the chamber, as one after another stole in, to look at the 
 dead ; and then came the little coffin ; and then there was a 
 funeral, and carriages drove to the door, and strangers came 
 and were seated ; and there were white scarfs and rihbons, 
 and crape bands, and mourners dressed in black crape ; and 
 there were words read from the Bible, and prayers offered; 
 and St. Clare lived, and walked, arid moved, as one who has 
 shed every tear ; to the last he saw only one thing, that 
 golden head in the coffin ; but then he saw the cloth spread 
 over it, the lid of the coffin closed ; and he walked, when 
 he was put beside the others, down to a little place at the 
 bottom of the garden, and there, by the mossy seat where 
 she and Tom had talked, and sung, and read so often, was 
 the little grave. St. Clare stood beside it, looked va 
 cantly down ; he saw them lower the little coffin ; he heard, 
 dimly, the solemn words, " I am the Resurrection and the 
 Life ; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet 
 shall he live j " and, as the earth was cast in and filled up 
 the little grave, he could not realize that it was his Eva 
 that they were hiding from his sight. 
 
 Nor was it ! not Eva, but only the frail seed of that 
 bright, immortal form with which she shall yet come forth 
 in the day of the Lord Jesus ! 
 
 And then all were gone, and the mourners went back to 
 the place which should know her no more ; and Marie s 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 57 
 
 room was darkened, and she lay on the bed, sobbing and 
 moaning in uncontrollable grief, and calling every moment 
 for the attentions of all her servants. Of course, they had 
 no time to cry, why should they ? the grief was her grief, 
 and she was fully convinced that nobody on earth did, could, 
 or would feel it as she did. 
 
 " St. Clare did not shed a tear, 57 she said ; " he did n t 
 sympathize with her ; it was perfectly wonderful to think 
 how hard-hearted and unfeeling he was, when he must know 
 how she suffered. 7 
 
 So much are people the slave of their eye and ear that 
 many of the servants really thought that Missis was the 
 principal sufferer in the case, especially as Marie began to 
 have hysterical spasms, and sent for the doctor, and at last 
 declared herself dying ; and, in the running and scampering, 
 and bringing up hot bottles, and heating of flannels, and 
 chafing, and fussing, that ensued, there was quite a diversion. 
 
 Tom, however, had a feeling at his own heart, that drew 
 him to his master. He followed him wherever he walked, 
 wistfully and sadly ; and when he saw him sitting, so pale 
 and quiet, in Eva s room, holding before his eyes her little 
 open Bible, though seeing no letter or word of what was in 
 it, there was more sorrow to Tom in that still, fixed, tearless 
 eye than in all Marie s moans and lamentations. 
 
 In a few days the St. Clare family were back again in the 
 city ; Augustine, with the restlessness of grief, longing for 
 another scene, to change the current of his thoughts. So 
 they left the house and garden, with its little grave, and 
 came back to New Orleans ; and St. Clare walked the streets 
 busily, and strove to fill up the chasm in his heart with 
 hurry and bustle, and change of place ; and people who saw 
 him in the street, or met him at the cafe, knew of his loss 
 only by the weed on his hat ; for there he was, smiling and 
 talking, and reading the newspaper, and speculating on poli 
 tics, and attending to business matters ; and who could see 
 
58 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 that all this smiling outside was but a hollow shell over a 
 heart that was a dark and silent sepulchre ? 
 
 " Mr. St. Clare is a singular man/ said Marie to Miss 
 Ophelia, in a complaining tone. " I used to think, if there 
 was anything in the world he did love, it was our dear little 
 Eva ; but he seems to be forgetting her very easily. I can 
 not ever get him to talk about her. I really did think he 
 would show more feeling ! " 
 
 " Still waters run deepest, they used to tell me," said 
 Miss Ophelia oracularly. 
 
 " Oh, I don t believe in such things ; it s all talk. If 
 people have feeling, they will show it, they can t help 
 it ; but, then, it s a great misfortune to have feeling. I d 
 rather have been made like St. Clare. My feelings prey 
 upon me so ! " 
 
 " Sure, Missis, Mas r St. Clare is gettin thin as a shadder. 
 They say, he don t ever eat nothin ," said Mammy. " I 
 know he don t forget Miss Eva ; I know there could n t 
 nobody, dear, little, blessed cretur ! " she added, wiping 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Well, at all events, he has no consideration for me," 
 said Marie ; " he has n t spoken one word of sympathy, and 
 he must know how much more a mother feels than any man 
 can." 
 
 " The heart knoweth its own bitterness/ said Miss 
 Ophelia gravely. 
 
 " That s just what I think. I know just what I feel, 
 nobody else seems to. Eva used to, but she is gone ! " 
 and Marie lay back on her lounge, and began to sob dis 
 consolately. 
 
 Marie was one of those unfortunately constituted mortals, 
 in whose eyes whatever is lost and gone assumes a value 
 which it never had in possession. Whatever she had, she 
 seemed to survey only to pick flaws in it j but, once fairly 
 away, there was no end to her valuation of it. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 59 
 
 While this conversation was taking place in the parlor, 
 another was going on in St. Clare s library. 
 
 Tom, who was always uneasily following his master about, 
 had seen him go to his library some hours before ; and, 
 after vainly waiting for him to come out, determined, at 
 last, to make an errand in. He entered softly. St. Clare 
 lay on his lounge, at the further end of the room. He was 
 lying on his face, with Eva s Bible open before him, at a 
 little distance. Tom walked up, and stood by the sofa. 
 He hesitated ; and, while he was hesitating, St. Clare sud 
 denly raised himself up. The honest face, so full of grief, 
 and with such an imploring expression of affection and sym 
 pathy, struck his master. He laid his hand on Tom s, and 
 bowed down his forehead on it. 
 
 " Oh, Tom, my boy, the whole world is as empty as an 
 egg-shell." 
 
 " I know it, Mas r, I know it," said Tom ; " but, oh. 
 if Mas r could only look up, up where our dear Miss Eva 
 is, up to the dear Lord Jesus ! " 
 
 " Ah, Tom ! I do look up ; but the trouble is, I don t 
 see anything when I do. I wish I could." 
 
 Tom sighed heavily. 
 
 " It seems to be given to children, and poor, honest fel 
 lows like you, to see what we can t," said St. Clare. " How 
 comes it ? " 
 
 " Thou hast hid from the wise and prudent, and revealed 
 unto babes, " murmured Tom ; " t even so, Father, for so 
 it seemed good in thy sight. 
 
 " Tom, I don t believe, I can t believe, I ve got the 
 habit of doubting," said St. Clare. " I want to believe this 
 Bible, and I can t." 
 
 " Dear Mas r, pray to the good Lord, l Lord, I believe ; 
 help thou my unbelief. 
 
 " Who knows anything about anything ? " said St. Clare, 
 his eyes wandering dreamily, and speaking to himself. 
 
60 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Was all that beautiful love and faith only one of the ever- 
 shifting phases of human feeling, having nothing real to rest 
 on, passing away with the little breath ? And is there no 
 more Eva, no heaven, no Christ, nothing ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear Mas r, there is ! I know it ; 1 7 m sure of it," 
 said Tom, falling on his knees. " Do, do, dear Mas r, be 
 lieve it ! " 
 
 " How do you know there 7 s any Christ, Tom ? You 
 never saw the Lord." 
 
 " Felt him in my soul, Mas r, feel him now ! Oh, 
 Mas r, when I was sold away from my old woman and the 
 children, I was jest a most broke up. I felt as if there 
 warn t nothin left ; and then the good Lord, he stood by 
 me, and he says, ( Fear not, Tom ; and he brings light 
 and joy into a poor feller s soul, makes all peace ; and 
 I ? s so happy, and loves everybody, and feels willin jest to 
 be the Lord s, and have the Lord s will done, and be put jest 
 where the Lord wants to put me. I know it could n t come 
 from me, cause I s a poor, complainin cretur ; it comes from 
 the Lord; and I know he s willin to do for Mas r." 
 
 Tom spoke with fast-running tears and choking voice. 
 St. Clare leaned his head on his shoulder, and wrung the 
 hard, faithful, black hand. 
 
 " Tom, you love me," he said. 
 
 " I s willin to lay down my life, this blessed day, to see 
 Mas r a Christian." 
 
 " Poor, foolish boy ! " said St. Clare, half raising him 
 self. " I m not worth the love of one good, honest heart, 
 like yours." 
 
 " Oh, Mas r, dere s more than me loves you, the 
 blessed Lord Jesus loves you." 
 
 " How do you know that, Tom ? " said St. Clare. 
 
 " Feels it in my soul. Oh, Mas r ! the love of Christ, 
 that passeth knowledge. 
 
 " Singular ! " said St. Clare, turning away, " that the 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 61 
 
 story of a man that lived and died eighteen hundred years 
 ago can affect people so yet. But he was no man," he 
 added suddenly. " No man ever had such long and living 
 power ! Oh, that I could believe what my mother taught 
 me, and pray as I did when I was a boy ! " 
 
 " If Mas r pleases," said Tom, " Miss Eva used to read 
 this so beautifully. I wish Mas r d be so good as read it. 
 Don t get no readin , hardly, now Miss Eva s gone." 
 
 The chapter was the eleventh of John, the touching 
 account of the raising of Lazarus. St. Clare read it aloud, 
 often pausing to wrestle down feelings which were roused 
 by the pathos of the story. Tom knelt before him, with 
 clasped hands, and with an absorbed expression of love, 
 trust, adoration, on his quiet face. 
 
 " Tom," said his master, " this is all real to you." 
 
 " I can jest fairly see it, Mas r," said Torn. 
 
 " I wish I had your eyes, Tom." 
 
 " I wish, to the dear Lord, Mas r had ! " 
 
 "But, Tom, you know that I have a great deal more 
 knowledge than you ; what if I should tell you that I don t 
 believe this Bible ? " 
 
 "Oh, Mas r," said Tom, holding up his hands, with a 
 deprecating gesture. 
 
 " Would n t it shake your faith some, Tom ? " 
 
 " Not a grain," said Tom. 
 
 " Why, Tom, you must know I know the most." 
 
 " Oh, Mas r, have n t you jest read how he hides from 
 the wise and prudent, and reveals unto babes ? But Mas r 
 was n t in earnest, for sartin, now ? " said Tom anxiously. 
 
 "No, Tom, I was not. I don t disbelieve, and I think 
 there is reason to believe ; and still I don t. It s a trouble 
 some bad habit I ve got, Tom." 
 
 " If Mas r would only pray ! " 
 
 " How do you know I don t, Tom ? " 
 
 " Does Mas r ? " 
 
62 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " I would, Tom, if there was anybody there when I pray ; 
 but it s all speaking unto nothing when I do. But come, 
 Tom, you pray, now, and show me who." 
 
 Tom s heart was full ; he poured it out in prayer, like 
 waters that have been long suppressed. One thing was 
 plain enough : Tom thought there was somebody to hear, 
 whether there were or not. In fact, St. Clare felt himself 
 borne, on the tide of his faith and feeling, almost to the 
 gates of that heaven he seemed so vividly to conceive. It 
 seemed to bring him nearer to Eva. 
 
 " Thank you, my boy," said St. Clare, when Tom rose ; 
 "I like to hear you, Tom; but go now, and leave me 
 alone : some other time, I 11 talk more." 
 
 Tom silently left the room. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 63 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 REUNION 
 
 WEEK after week glided away in the St. Clare mansion, 
 and the waves of life settled back to their usual flow, 
 where that little bark had gone down. For how imperi 
 ously, how coolly, in disregard of all one s feeling, does 
 the hard, cold, uninteresting course of daily realities move 
 on! Still must we eat, and drink, and sleep, and wake 
 again, still bargain, buy, sell, ask and answer questions, 
 pursue, in short, a thousand shadows, though all inter 
 est in them be over; the cold, mechanical habit of living 
 remaining, after all vital interest in it has fled. 
 
 All the interests and hopes of St. Clare s life had uncon 
 sciously wound themselves around this child. It was for 
 Eva that he had managed his property; it was for Eva 
 that he had planned the disposal of his time; and, to do 
 this and that for Eva, to buy, improve, alter, and ar 
 range, or dispose something for her, had been so long 
 his habit, that now she was gone, there seemed nothing to 
 be thought of, and nothing to be done. 
 
 True, there was another life, a life which, once be 
 lieved in, stands as a solemn, significant figure before the 
 otherwise unmeaning ciphers of time, changing them to 
 orders of mysterious, untold value. St. Clare knew this 
 well; and often, in many a weary hour, he heard that 
 slender, childish voice calling him to the skies, and saw 
 that little hand pointing to him the way of life; but a 
 heavy lethargy of sorrow lay on him, he could not arise. 
 He had one of those natures which could better and more 
 
64 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 clearly conceive of religious things from its own percep 
 tions and instincts, than many a matter-of-fact and practi 
 cal Christian. The gift to appreciate and the sense to feel 
 the finer shades and relations of moral things often seems 
 an attribute of those whose whole life shows a careful 
 disregard of them. Hence Moore, Byron, Goethe, often 
 speak words more wisely descriptive of the true religious 
 sentiment than another man, whose whole life is governed 
 by it. In such minds, disregard of religion is a more 
 fearful treason, a more deadly sin. 
 
 St. Clare had never pretended to govern himself by any 
 religious obligation; and a certain fineness of nature gave 
 him such an instinctive view of the extent of the require 
 ments of Christianity that he shrank, by anticipation, 
 from what he felt would be the exactions of his own con 
 science, if he once did resolve to assume them. For, so 
 inconsistent is human nature, especially in the ideal, that 
 not to undertake a thing at all seems better than to under 
 take and come short. 
 
 Still St. Clare was, in many respects, another man. He 
 read his little Eva s Bible seriously and honestly; he 
 thought more soberly and practically of his relations to his 
 servants, enough to make him extremely dissatisfied 
 with both his past and present course ; and one thing he 
 did, soon after his return to New Orleans, and that was to 
 commence the legal steps necessary to Tom s emancipation, 
 which was to be perfected as soon as he could get through 
 the necessary formalities. Meantime, he attached himself 
 to Tom more and more every day. In all the wide world, 
 there was nothing that seemed to remind him so much of 
 Eva; and he would insist on keeping him constantly about 
 him, and, fastidious and unapproachable as he was with 
 regard to his deeper feelings, he almost thought aloud to 
 Tom. Nor would any one have wondered at it, who had 
 seen the expression of affection and devotion with which 
 Tom continually followed his young master. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 65 
 
 "Well, Tom," said St. Clare, the day after he had com 
 menced the legal formalities for his enfranchisement, "I m 
 going to make a free man of you; so, have your trunk 
 packed, and get ready to set out for Kentuck." 
 
 The sudden light of joy that shone in Tom s face as he 
 raised his hands to Heaven, his emphatic "Bless the 
 Lord ! " rather discomposed St. Clare ; he did not like it 
 that Tom should be so ready to leave him. 
 
 "You haven t had such very bad times here that you 
 need be in such a rapture, Tom," he said dryly. 
 
 "No, no, Mas r! t ain t that, it s bein a, free man! 
 That s what I m joy in for." 
 
 "Why, Tom, don t you think, for your own part, you ve 
 been better off than to be free ? " 
 
 "No, indeed, Mas r St. Clare," said Tom, with a flash 
 of energy. "No, indeed!" 
 
 "Why, Tom, you couldn t possibly have earned, by 
 your work, such clothes and such a living as I have given 
 you. " 
 
 "Knows all that, Mas r St. Clare; Mas r s been too 
 good; but, Mas r, I d rather have poor clothes, poor 
 house, poor everything, and have them mine, than have 
 the best, and have em any man s else, I had so, Mas r; 
 I think it s natur, Mas r." 
 
 "I suppose so, Tom, and you ll be going off and leav 
 ing me, in a month or so," he added, rather discontentedly. 
 "Though why you shouldn t, no mortal knows," he said, 
 in a gayer tone; and, getting up, he began to walk the 
 floor. 
 
 "Not while Mas r is in trouble," said Tom. "I ll 
 stay with Mas r as long as he wants me, so as I can be 
 any use." 
 
 "Not while I m in trouble, Tom? " said St. Clare, look 
 ing sadly out of the window. . . . "And when will my 
 trouble be over 1 " 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
66 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 "When Mas r St. Clare s a Christian," said Tom. 
 
 "And you really mean to stay by till that day comes? " 
 said St. Clare, half smiling, as he turned from the win 
 dow, and laid his hand on Tom s shoulder. "Ah, Tom, 
 you soft, silly boy! I won t keep you till that day. Go 
 home to your wife and children, and give my love to all. " 
 
 "I s faith to believe that day will come," said Tom 
 earnestly, and with tears in his eyes; "the Lord has work 
 for Mas r." 
 
 "A work, hey?" said St. Clare; "well, now, Tom, 
 give me your views on what sort of a work it is; let s 
 hear." 
 
 "Why, even a poor fellow like me has a work from the 
 Lord; and Mas r St. Clare, that has larnin , and riches, 
 and friends how much he might do for the Lord ! " 
 
 "Tom, you seem to think the Lord needs a great deal 
 done for him," said St. Clare, smiling. 
 
 "We does for the Lord when we does for his critturs," 
 said Tom. 
 
 "Good theology, Tom; better than Dr. B. preaches, 
 I dare swear," said St. Clare. 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted by the announce 
 ment of some visitors. 
 
 Marie St. Clare felt the loss of Eva as deeply as she 
 could feel anything; and as she was a woman that had a 
 great faculty of making everybody unhappy when she was, 
 her immediate attendants had still stronger reason to re 
 gret the loss of their young mistress, whose winning ways 
 and gentle intercessions had so often been a shield to them 
 from the tyrannical and selfish exactions of her mother. 
 Poor old Mammy, in particular, whose heart, severed 
 from all natural domestic ties, had consoled itself with 
 this one beautiful being, was almost heart-broken. She 
 cried day and night, and was, from excess of sorrow, less 
 skillful and alert in her ministrations on her mistress than 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 67 
 
 usual, which drew down a constant storm of invectives on 
 her defenseless head. 
 
 Miss Ophelia felt the loss; but, in her good and honest 
 heart, it bore fruit unto everlasting life. She was more 
 softened, more gentle; and, though equally assiduous in 
 every duty, it was with a chastened and quiet air, as one 
 who communed with her own heart not in vain. She was 
 more diligent in teaching Topsy, taught her mainly 
 from the Bible, did not any longer shrink from her 
 touch, or manifest an ill-repressed disgust, because she felt 
 none. She viewed her now through the softened medium 
 that Eva s hand had first held before her eye, and saw in 
 her only an immortal creature, whom God had sent to be 
 led by her to glory and virtue. Topsy did not become at 
 once a saint; but the life and death of Eva did work a 
 marked change in her. The callous indifference was gone; 
 there was now sensibility, hope, desire, and the striving 
 for good, a strife irregular, interrupted, suspended oft, 
 but yet renewed again. 
 
 One day, when Topsy had been sent for by Miss Ophe 
 lia, she came, hastily thrusting something into her bosom. 
 
 "What are you doing there, you limb? You ve been 
 stealing something, I 11 be bound," said the imperious little 
 Rosa, who had been sent to call her, seizing her, at the 
 same time, roughly by the arm. 
 
 "You go long, Miss Rosa!" said Topsy, pulling from 
 her; " t ain t none o your business! " 
 
 "None o your sa ce!" said Rosa. "I saw you hiding 
 something, I know yer tricks, " and Rosa seized her 
 arm, and tried to force her hand into her bosom, while 
 Topsy, enraged, kicked and fought valiantly for what she 
 considered her rights. The clamor and confusion of the 
 battle drew Miss Ophelia and St. Clare both to the spot. 
 
 "She s been stealing! " said Rosa. 
 
 "I hain t, neither!" vociferated Topsy, sobbing with 
 passion. 
 
68 UXCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 "Give me that, whatever it is!" said Miss Ophelia 
 firmly. 
 
 Topsy hesitated; but, on a second order, pulled out of 
 her bosom a little parcel done up in the foot of one of 
 her own old stockings. 
 
 Miss Ophelia turned it out. There was a small book, 
 which had been given to Topsy by Eva, containing a single 
 verse of Scripture, arranged for every day in the year, and 
 in a paper the curl of hair that she had given her on that 
 memorable day when she had taken her last farewell. 
 
 St. Clare was a good deal affected at the sight of it; the 
 little book had been rolled in a long strip of black crape, 
 torn from the funeral weeds. 
 
 " What did you wrap this round the book for 1 " said 
 St. Clare, holding up the crape. 
 
 " Cause, -- cause, -- cause twas Miss Eva s. Oh, 
 don t take em away, please!" she said; and, sitting flat 
 down on the floor, and putting her apron over her head, 
 she began to sob vehemently. 
 
 It was a curious mixture of the pathetic and the lu 
 dicrous, the little old stocking, black crape, text 
 book, fair, soft curl, and Topsy s utter distress. 
 
 St. Clare smiled; but there were tears in his eyes, as he 
 said, 
 
 "Come, come, don t cry; you shall have them!" 
 and, putting them together, he threw them into her lap, 
 and drew Miss Ophelia with him into the parlor. 
 
 "I really think you can make something of that con 
 cern," he said, pointing with his thumb backward over his 
 shoulder. "Any mind that is capable of a real sorrow is 
 capable of good. You must try and do something with her. " 
 
 "The child has improved greatly," said Miss Ophelia. 
 "I have great hopes of her; but, Augustine," she said, 
 laying her hand on his arm, "one thing I want to ask; 
 whose is this child to be 1 yours or mine ? " 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 69 
 
 "Why, I gave her to you," said Augustine. 
 
 "But not legally; I want her to be mine legally," 
 said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "Whew! cousin," said Augustine. "What will the 
 Abolition Society think? They ll have a clay of fasting 
 appointed for this backsliding, if you become a slave 
 holder!" 
 
 "Oh, nonsense! I want her mine, that I may have a 
 right to take her to the free states, and give her her liberty, 
 that all I am trying to do be not undone." 
 
 " Oh, cousin, what an awful doing evil that good may 
 come ! I can t encourage it." 
 
 "I don t want you to joke, but to reason," said Miss 
 Ophelia. "There is no use in my trying to make this 
 child a Christian child, unless I save her from all the 
 chances and reverses of slavery ; and, if you really are will 
 ing I should have her, I want you to give me a deed of 
 gift, or some legal paper." 
 
 "Well, well," said St. Clare, "I will;" and he sat 
 down, and unfolded a newspaper to read. 
 
 "But I want it done now," said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "What s your hurry?" 
 
 "Because now is the only time there ever is to do a 
 thing in," said Miss Ophelia. "Come, now, here s paper, 
 pen, and ink; just write a paper." 
 
 St. Clare, like most men of his class of mind, cordially 
 hated the present tense of action, generally; and, there 
 fore, he was considerably annoyed by Miss Ophelia s down- 
 rightness. 
 
 "Why, what s the matter? " said he. "Can t you take 
 my word ? One would think you had taken lessons of the 
 Jew T s, coming at a fellow so ! " 
 
 "I want to make sure of it," said Miss Ophelia. "You 
 may die, or fail, and then Topsy be hustled off to auction, 
 spite of all I can do." 
 
70 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 "Keally, you are quite provident. Well, seeing I m in 
 the hands of a Yankee, there is nothing for it but to con 
 cede ; " and St. Clare rapidly wrote off a deed of gift, which, 
 as he was well versed in the forms of law, he could easily 
 do, and signed his name to it in sprawling capitals, con 
 cluding by a tremendous flourish. 
 
 "There, isn t that black and white, now, Miss Ver 
 mont ? " he said, as he handed it to her. 
 
 "Good boy," said Miss Ophelia, smiling. "But must 
 it not be witnessed ? " 
 
 "Oh, bother! yes. Here," he said, opening the door 
 into Marie s apartment, "Marie, cousin wants your auto 
 graph; just put your name down here." 
 
 "What s this? " said Marie, as she ran over the paper. 
 "Ridiculous! I thought cousin was too pious for such 
 horrid things," she added, as she carelessly wrote her 
 name, "but, if she has a fancy for that article, I am sure 
 she s welcome." 
 
 "There, now, she s yours, body and soul," said St. 
 Clare, handing the paper. 
 
 "No more mine now than she was before," said Miss 
 Ophelia. "Nobody but God has a right to give her to me; 
 but I can protect her now." 
 
 "Well, she s yours by a fiction of law, then," said St. 
 Clare, as he turned back into the parlor, and sat down to 
 his paper. 
 
 Miss Ophelia, who seldom sat much in Marie s company, 
 followed him into the parlor, having first carefully laid 
 away the paper. 
 
 "Augustine," she said suddenly, as she sat knitting, 
 "have you ever made any provision for your servants, in 
 case of your death ? " 
 
 "No," said St. Clare, as he read on. 
 
 "Then all your indulgence to them may prove a great 
 cruelty, by and by." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 71 
 
 St. Clare had often thought the same thing himself ; but 
 he answered negligently, 
 
 "Well, I mean to make a provision, by and by." 
 
 "When?" said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "Oh, one of these days." 
 
 "What if you should die first? " 
 
 "Cousin, what s the matter?" said St. Clare, laying 
 down his paper and looking at her. "Do you think I 
 show symptoms of yellow fever or cholera, that you are 
 making post-mortem arrangements with such zeal ? " 
 
 " In the midst of life we are in death, " said Miss 
 Ophelia. 
 
 St. Clare rose up, and laying the paper down carelessly, 
 walked to the door that stood open on the veranda to put 
 an end to a conversation that was not agreeable to him. 
 Mechanically, he repeated the last word again, 
 " Death ! " and, as he leaned against the railings, and 
 watched the sparkling water as it rose and fell in the foun 
 tain, and, as in a dim and dizzy haze, saw the flowers and 
 trees and vases of the courts, he repeated again the mystic 
 word so common in every mouth, yet of such fearful 
 power, "DEATH! " "Strange that there should be such 
 a word," he said, "and such a thing, and we ever forget 
 it; that one should be living, warm, and beautiful, full of 
 hopes, desires, and wants, one day, and the next be gone, 
 utterly gone, and forever ! " 
 
 It was a warm, golden evening; and, as he walked to 
 the other end of the veranda, he saw Tom busily intent 
 on his Bible, pointing, as he did so, with his finger to 
 each successive word, and whispering them to himself with 
 an earnest air. 
 
 " Want me to read to you, Tom 1 " said St. Clare, seat 
 ing himself carelessly by him. 
 
 "If Mas r pleases," said Tom gratefully, "Mas r makes 
 it so much plainer." 
 
72 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 St. Clare took the book and glanced at the place, and 
 began reading one of the passages which Tom had desig 
 nated by the heavy marks around it. It ran as follows : 
 
 "When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all 
 his holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne 
 of his glory: and before him shall be gathered all nations; 
 and he shall separate them one from another, as a shep 
 herd divide th his sheep from the goats." St. Clare read 
 on in an animated voice, till he came to the last of the 
 verses. 
 
 "Then shall the king say unto them on his left hand, 
 Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire: for I was 
 an hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and 
 ye gave me no drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me not 
 in: naked, and ye clothed me not: I was sick, and in 
 prison, and ye visited me not. Then shall they answer 
 unto Him, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, or 
 athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and 
 did not minister unto thee 1 Then shall he say unto them, 
 Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these my 
 brethren, ye did it not to me." 
 
 St. Clare seemed struck with this last passage, for he 
 read it twice, the second time slowly, and as if he were 
 revolving the words in his mind. . 
 
 "Tom," he said, "these folks that get such hard measure 
 seem to have been doing just what I have, living good, 
 easy, respectable lives; and not troubling themselves to 
 inquire how many of their brethren were hungry, or 
 athirst, or sick, or in prison." 
 
 Tom did not answer. 
 
 St. Clare rose up and walked thoughtfully up and down 
 the veranda, seeming to forget everything in his own 
 thoughts ; so absorbed was he, that Tom had to remind him 
 twice that the tea-bell had rung, before he could get his 
 attention. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 73 
 
 St. Clare was absent and thoughtful, all tea-time. After 
 tea, he and Marie and Miss Ophelia took possession of the 
 parlor, almost in silence. 
 
 Marie disposed herself on a lounge, under a silken mos 
 quito curtain, and was soon sound asleep. Miss Ophelia 
 silently busied herself with her knitting. St. Clare sat 
 down to the piano, and began playing a soft and melan 
 choly movement with the ^Eolian accompaniment. He 
 seemed in a deep reverie, and to be soliloquizing to himself 
 by music. After a little, he opened one of the drawers, 
 took out an old music-book whose leaves were yellow with 
 age, and began turning it over. 
 
 "There," he said to Miss Ophelia, "this was one of 
 my mother s books, and here is her handwriting, 
 come and look at it. She copied and arranged this from 
 Mozart s Requiem." Miss Ophelia came accordingly. 
 
 "It was something she used to sing often," said St. 
 Clare. "I think I can hear her now." 
 
 He struck a few majestic chords, and began singing that 
 grand old Latin piece, the "Dies Iree." 
 
 Tom, who was listening in the outer veranda, was drawn 
 by the sound to the very door, where he stood earnestly. 
 He did not understand the words, of course ; but the music 
 and manner of singing appeared to affect him strongly, 
 especially when St. Clare sang the more pathetic parts. 
 Tom would have sympathized more heartily, if he had 
 known the meaning of the beautiful words: 
 
 " Recordare Jesu pie 
 Quod sum causa tuae vise 
 Ne me perdas, ilia die; 
 Quaerens me sedisti lassus, 
 Redemisti crucem passus, 
 Tantus labor non sit cassus." * 
 
 1 These lines have been thus rather inadequately translated : 
 
 " Think, O Jesus, for what reason 
 Thou enduredst earth s spite and treason, 
 
74 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 St. Clare threw a deep and pathetic expression into the 
 words; for the shadowy veil of years seemed drawn away, 
 and he seemed to hear his mother s voice leading his. 
 Voice and instrument seemed both living, and threw out 
 with vivid sympathy those strains which the ethereal 
 Mozart first conceived as his own dying requiem. 
 
 When St. Clare had done singing, he sat leaning his head 
 upon his hand a few moments, and then began walking up 
 and down the floor. 
 
 "What a sublime conception is that of a last judgment! " 
 said he, "a righting of all the wrongs of ages ! a solv 
 ing of all moral problems, by an unanswerable wisdom ! It 
 is, indeed, a wonderful image." 
 
 "It is a fearful one to us," said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "It ought to be to me, I suppose," said St. Clare, stop 
 ping, thoughtfully. "I was reading to Tom, this after 
 noon, that chapter in Matthew that gives an account of it, 
 and I have been quite struck with it. One should have 
 expected some terrible enormities charged to those who are 
 excluded from heaven, as the reason ; but no, they are 
 condemned for not doing positive good, as if that included 
 every possible harm." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Miss Ophelia, "it is impossible for a 
 person who does no good not to do harm." 
 
 "And what," said St. Clare, speaking abstractedly, but 
 with deep feeling, "what shall be said of one whose own 
 heart, whose education, and the wants of society have called 
 in vain to some noble purpose; who has floated on, a 
 dreamy, neutral spectator of the struggles, agonies, and 
 wrongs of man, when he should have been a worker ? " 
 
 "I should say," said Miss Ophelia, "that he ought to 
 repent, and begin now." 
 
 Nor me lose, in that dread season ; 
 Seeking me, thy worn feet hasted, 
 On the cross thy soul death tasted, 
 Let not all these toils be wasted." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 75 
 
 "Always practical and to the point!" said St. Clare, 
 his face breaking out into a smile. "You never leave me 
 any time for general reflections, cousin; you always bring 
 me short up against the actual present; you have a kind 
 of eternal now, always in your mind." 
 
 "Now is all the time I have anything to do with," said 
 Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "Dear little Eva, poor child!" said St. Clare, "she 
 had set her little simple soul on a good work for me." 
 
 It was the first time since Eva s death that he had ever 
 said as many words as these of her, and he spoke now 
 evidently repressing very strong feeling. 
 
 "My view of Christianity is such," he added, "that I 
 think no man can consistently profess it without throwing 
 the whole weight of his being against this monstrous 
 system of injustice that lies at the foundation of all our 
 society; and, if need be, sacrificing himself in the battle. 
 That is, I mean that / could not be a Christian otherwise, 
 though I have certainly had intercourse with a great many 
 enlightened and Christian people who did no such thing; 
 and I confess that the apathy of religious people on this 
 subject, their want of perception of wrongs that filled me 
 with horror, have engendered in me more skepticism than 
 any other thing." 
 
 "If you knew all this," said Miss Ophelia, "why did n t 
 you do it 1 " 
 
 "Oh, because I have had only that kind of benevolence 
 which consists in lying on a sofa, and cursing the church, 
 and clergy for not being martyrs and confessors. One can 
 see, you know, very easily, how others ought to be mar 
 tyrs." 
 
 "Well, are you going to do differently now? " said Miss 
 Ophelia. 
 
 "God only knows the future," said St. Clare. "I am 
 braver than I was, because I have lost all; and he who has 
 nothing to lose can afford all risks." 
 
76 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 "And what are you going to do? " 
 
 "My duty, I hope, to the poor and lowly, as fast as I 
 find it out," said St. Clare, "beginning with my own ser 
 vants, for whom I have yet done nothing, and, perhaps, at 
 some future day, it may appear that I can do something for 
 a whole class; something to save my country from the dis 
 grace of that false position in which she now stands before 
 all civilized nations." 
 
 "Do you suppose it possible that a nation ever will 
 voluntarily emancipate 1 " said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "I don t know," said St. Clare. "This is a day of 
 great deeds. Heroism and disinterestedness are rising up, 
 here and there, in the earth. The Hungarian nobles set 
 free millions of serfs, at an immense pecuniary loss; and, 
 perhaps, among us may be found generous spirits, who do 
 not estimate honor and justice by dollars and cents." 
 
 "I hardly think so," said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "But, suppose we should rise up to-morrow and emanci 
 pate, who would educate these millions, and teach them 
 how to use their freedom ? They never would rise to do 
 much among us. The fact is, we are too lazy and unprac 
 tical, ourselves, ever to give them much of an idea of that 
 industry and energy which is necessary to form them into 
 men. They will have to go north, where labor is the fash 
 ion, the universal custom ; and tell me, now, is there 
 enough Christian philanthropy, among your Northern 
 States, to bear with the process of their education and ele 
 vation? You send thousands of dollars to foreign mis 
 sions; but could you endure to have the heathen sent into 
 your towns and villages, and give your time, and thoughts, 
 and money, to raise them to the Christian standard? 
 That s what I want to know. If we emancipate, are you 
 willing to educate? How many families, in your town, 
 would take in a negro man and woman, teach them, bear 
 with them, and seek to make them Christians? How many 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 77 
 
 merchants would take Adolph, if I wanted to make him a 
 clerk ; or mechanics, if I wanted him taught a trade 1 If 
 I wanted to put Jane and Rosa to a school, how many 
 schools are there in the Northern States that would take 
 them in ? how many families that would board them ? and 
 yet they are as white as many a woman, north or south. 
 You see, cousin, I want justice done us. We are in a bad 
 position. We are the more obvious oppressors of the negro ; 
 but the unchristian prejudice of the north is an oppressor 
 almost equally severe." 
 
 "Well, cousin, I know it is so," said Miss Ophelia, 
 "I know it was so with me, till I saw that it was my duty 
 to overcome it ; but I trust I have overcome it ; and I know 
 there are many good people at the north, who in this mat 
 ter need only to be taught what their duty is, to do it. 
 It would certainly be a greater self-denial to receive hea 
 then among us, than to send missionaries to them ; but I 
 think we would do it." 
 
 " You would, I know, - said St. Clare. "I d like to see 
 anything you wouldn t do, if you thought it your duty! " 
 
 "Well, I in not uncommonly good," said Miss Ophelia. 
 "Others would, if they saw things as I do. I intend to 
 take Topsy home, when I go. I suppose our folks will 
 wonder, at first; but I think they will be brought to see 
 as I do. Besides, I know there are many people at the 
 north who do exactly what you said." 
 
 "Yes, but they are a minority; and, if we should begin 
 to emancipate to any extent, we should soon hear from 
 you. " 
 
 Miss Ophelia did not reply. There was a pause of some 
 moments; and St. Clare s countenance was overcast by a 
 sad, dreamy expression. 
 
 "I don t know what makes me think of my mother so 
 much, to-night," he said. "I have a strange kind of feel 
 ing, as if she were near me. I keep thinking of things she 
 
78 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 used to say. Strange, what brings these past things so 
 vividly back to us, sometimes ! " 
 
 St. Clare walked up and down the room for some min 
 utes more, and then said, 
 
 "I believe I 11 go down street, a few moments and hear 
 the news, to-night." 
 
 He took his hat, and passed out. 
 
 Tom followed him to the passage, out of the court, and 
 asked if he should attend him. 
 
 "No, my boy," said St. Clare. "I shall be back in an 
 hour." 
 
 Tom sat down in the veranda. It was a beautiful moon 
 light evening, and he sat watching the rising and falling 
 spray of the fountain, and listening to its murmur. Tom 
 thought of his home, and that he should soon be a free 
 man, and able to return to it at will. He thought how ho, 
 should work to buy his wife and boys. He felt the mus 
 cles of his brawny arms with a sort of joy, as he thought 
 they would soon belong to himself, and how much they 
 could do to work out the freedom of his family. Then he 
 thought of his noble young master, and, ever second to 
 that, came the habitual prayer that he had always offered 
 for him; and then his thoughts passed on to the beautiful 
 Eva, whom he now thought of among the angels; and he 
 thought till he almost fancied that that bright face and 
 golden hair were looking upon him, out of the spray of the 
 fountain. And, so musing, he fell asleep, and dreamed he 
 saw her coming bounding towards him, just as she used to 
 come, with a wreath of jessamine in her hair, her cheeks 
 bright, and her eyes radiant with delight; but, as he 
 looked, she seemed to rise from the ground; her cheeks 
 wore a paler hue, her eyes had a deep, divine radiance, a 
 golden halo seemed around her head, and she vanished 
 from his sight; and Tom was awakened by a loud knock 
 ing, and a sound of many voices at the gate. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 79 
 
 He hastened to undo it; and, with smothered voices 
 and heavy tread, came several men, bringing a body, 
 wrapped in a cloak, and lying on a shutter. The light of 
 the lamp fell full on the face ; and Tom gave a wild cry 
 of amazement and despair that rang through all the gal 
 leries, as the men advanced, with their burden, to the 
 open parlor door, where Miss Ophelia still sat knitting. 
 
 St. Clare had turned into a cafe, to look over an evening 
 paper. As he was reading, an affray arose between two 
 gentlemen in the room, who were both partially intoxi 
 cated. St. Clare and one or two others made an effort to 
 separate them, and St. Clare received a fatal stab in the 
 side with a bowie-knife, which he was attempting to wrest 
 from one of them. 
 
 The house was full of cries and lamentations, shrieks and 
 screams; servants frantically tearing their hair, throwing 
 themselves on the ground, or running distractedly about 
 lamenting. Tom and Miss Ophelia alone seemed to have 
 any presence of mind; for Marie was in strong hysteric 
 convulsions. At Miss Ophelia s direction, one of the 
 lounges in the parlor was hastily prepared, and the bleed 
 ing form laid upon it. St. Clare had fainted, through 
 pain and loss of blood ; but, as Miss Ophelia applied restor 
 atives, he revived, opened his eyes, looked fixedly on 
 them, looked earnestly around the room, his eyes traveling 
 wistfully over every object, and finally they rested on his 
 mother s picture. 
 
 The physician now arrived, and made his examination. 
 It was evident, from the expression of his face, that there 
 was no hope; but he applied himself to dressing the 
 wound, and he and Miss Ophelia and Tom. proceeded com 
 posedly with this work, amid the lamentations and sobs and 
 cries of the affrighted servants, who had clustered about 
 the doors and windows of the veranda. 
 
 "Now," said the physician,^" we must turn all these 
 creatures out; all depends on his being kept quiet." 
 
80 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 St. Clare opened his eyes, and looked fixedly on the 
 distressed beings, whom Miss Ophelia and the doctor were 
 trying to urge from the apartment. " Poor creatures ! " 
 he said, and an expression of bitter self-reproach passed 
 over his face. Adolph absolutely refused to go. Terror 
 had deprived him of all presence of mind; he threw him 
 self along on the floor, and nothing could persuade him to 
 rise. The rest yielded to Miss Ophelia s urgent represen 
 tations, that their master s safety depended on their still 
 ness and obedience. 
 
 St. Clare could say but little ; he lay with his eyes shut, 
 but it was evident that he wrestled with bitter thoughts. 
 After a while, he laid his hand on Tom s, who was kneel 
 ing beside him, and said, " Tom ! poor fellow ! " 
 
 "What, Mas r?" said Tom earnestly. 
 
 " I am dying ! " said St. Clare, pressing his hand ; 
 "pray!" 
 
 " If you would like a clergyman " said the physician. 
 
 St. Clare hastily shook his head, and said again to Tom, 
 more earnestly, "Pray!" 
 
 And Tom did pray, with all his mind and strength, for 
 the soul that was passing, the soul that seemed looking 
 so steadily and mournfully from those large, melancholy 
 blue eyes. It was literally prayer offered with strong cry 
 ing and tears. 
 
 When Tom ceased to speak, St. Clare reached out and 
 took his hand, looking earnestly at him, but saying nothing. 
 He closed his eyes, but still retained his hold; for, in the 
 gates of eternity, the black hand and the white hold each 
 other with an equal clasp. He murmured softly to him 
 self, at broken intervals, 
 
 " Recordare Jesu pie 
 
 Ne me perdas ilia die 
 Quserens me sedisti lassus." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 81 
 
 It was evident that the words he had been singing that 
 evening were passing through his mind, words of en 
 treaty addressed to Infinite Pity. His lips moved at inter 
 vals, as parts of the hymn fell brokenly from them. 
 
 "His mind is wandering," said the doctor. 
 
 "No! it is coining HOME, at last!" said St. Clare ener 
 getically; "at last! at last!" 
 
 The effort of speaking exhausted him. The sinking pale 
 ness of death fell on him; but with it there fell, as if shed 
 from the wings of some pitying spirit, a beautiful expression 
 of peace, like that of a wearied child who sleeps. 
 
 So he lay for a few moments. They saw that the mighty 
 hand was on him. Just before the spirit parted, he opened 
 his eyes, with a sudden light, as of joy and recognition, 
 and said "Mother ! " and then he was gone! 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
82 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 
 
 WE hear often of the distress of the negro servants on 
 the loss of a kind master; and with good reason, for no 
 creature on God s earth is left more utterly unprotected 
 and desolate than the slave in these circumstances. 
 
 The child who has lost a father has still the protection 
 of friends, and of the law ; he is something, and can do 
 something, has acknowledged rights and position; the 
 slave has none. The law regards him, in every respect, as 
 devoid of rights as a bale of merchandise. The only pos 
 sible acknowledgment of any of the longings and wants of 
 a human and immortal creature, which are given to him, 
 comes to him through the sovereign and irresponsible will 
 of his master; and when that master is stricken down, 
 nothing remains. 
 
 The number of those men who know how to use wholly 
 irresponsible power humanely and generously is small. 
 Everybody knows this, and the slave knows it best of all; 
 so that he feels that there are ten chances of his finding an 
 abusive and tyrannical master, to one of his finding a con 
 siderate and kind one. Therefore is it that the wail over 
 a kind master is loud and long, as well it may be. 
 
 When St. Clare breathed his last, terror and consterna 
 tion took hold of all his household. He had been stricken 
 down so in a moment, in the flower and strength of his 
 youth! Every room and gallery of the house resounded 
 with sobs and shrieks of despair. 
 
 Marie, whose nervous system had been enervated by a 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 83 
 
 constant course of self-indulgence, had nothing to support 
 the terror of the shock, and, at the time her husband 
 breathed his last, was passing from one fainting fit to 
 another: and he to whom she had been joined in the myste 
 rious tie of marriage passed from her forever, without the 
 possibility of even a parting word. 
 
 Miss Ophelia, with characteristic strength and self-con 
 trol, had remained with her kinsman to the last, all eye, 
 all ear, all attention; doing everything of the little that 
 could be done, and joining with her whole soul in the ten 
 der and impassioned prayers which the poor slave had 
 poured forth for the soul of his dying master. 
 
 When they were arranging him for his last rest, they 
 found upon his bosom a small, plain miniature- case, open 
 ing with a spring. It was the miniature of a noble and 
 beautiful female face; and on the reverse, under a crystal, 
 a lock of dark hair. They laid them back on the lifeless 
 breast, dust to dust, poor mournful relics of early 
 dreams, which once made that cold heart beat so warmly ! 
 
 Tom s whole soul was filled with thoughts of eternity; 
 and while he ministered around the lifeless clay, he did 
 not once think that the sudden stroke had left him in hope 
 less slavery. He felt at peace about his master; for in 
 that hour, when he had poured forth his prayer into the 
 bosom of his Father, he had found an answer of quietness 
 and assurance springing up within himself. In the depths 
 of his own affectionate nature, he felt able to perceive 
 something of the fullness of Divine love ; for an old oracle 
 hath thus written, " He that dwelleth in love dwelleth 
 in God, and God in him." Tom hoped and trusted, and 
 was at peace. 
 
 But the funeral passed, with all its pageant of black 
 crape, and prayers, and solemn faces; and back rolled the 
 cool, muddy waves of every-day life; and up came the 
 everlasting hard inquiry of "What is to be done next? " 
 
84 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 It rose to the mind of Marie, as, dressed in loose morn 
 ing-robes, and surrounded by anxious servants, she sat up 
 in a great easy-chair, and inspected samples of crape and 
 bombazine. It rose to Miss Ophelia, who began to turn 
 her thoughts towards her northern home. It rose, in 
 silent terrors, to the minds of the servants, who well knew 
 the unfeeling, tyrannical character of the mistress in whose 
 hands they were left. All knew, very well, that the in 
 dulgences which had been accorded to them were not from 
 their mistress, but from their master; and that, now he 
 was gone, there would be no screen between them and 
 every tyrannous infliction which a temper soured by afflic 
 tion might devise. 
 
 It was about a fortnight after the funeral, that Miss 
 Ophelia, busied one day in her apartment, heard a gentle 
 tap at the door. She opened it, and there stood Kosa, 
 the pretty young quadroon, whom we have before often 
 noticed, her hair in disorder, and her eyes swelled with 
 crying. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Feely," she said, falling on her knees, and 
 catching the skirt of her dress, "do, do go to Miss Marie 
 for me! do plead for me! She s goin to send me out to 
 be whipped, look there ! " And she handed to Miss 
 Ophelia a paper. 
 
 It was an order, written in Marie s delicate Italian hand, 
 to the master of a whipping establishment, to give the 
 bearer fifteen lashes. 
 
 "What have you been doing? " said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "You know, Miss Feely, I ve got such a bad temper; 
 it s very bad of me. I was trying on Miss Marie s dress, 
 and she slapped my face ; and I spoke out before I thought, 
 and was saucy, and she said that she d bring me down, 
 and have me know, once for all, that I was n t going to be 
 so topping as I had been ; and she wrote this, and says I 
 shall carry it. I d rather she d kill me, right out." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 85 
 
 Miss Ophelia stood considering, with the paper in her 
 hand. 
 
 "You see, Miss Feely," said Rosa, "I don t mind the 
 whipping so much, if Miss Marie or you was to do it; but, 
 to be sent to a man ! and such a horrid man, the shame 
 of it, Miss Feely ! " 
 
 Miss Ophelia well knew that it was the universal custom 
 to send women and young girls to whipping-houses, to the 
 hands of the lowest of men, men vile enough to make 
 this their profession, there to be subjected to brutal ex 
 posure and shameful correction. She had known it before; 
 but hitherto she had never realized it, till she saw the 
 slender form of Rosa almost convulsed with distress. All 
 the honest blood of womanhood, the strong New England 
 blood of liberty, flushed to her cheeks, and throbbed bit 
 terly in her indignant heart; but, with habitual prudence 
 and self-control, she mastered herself, and, crushing the 
 paper firmly in her hand, she merely said to Rosa, 
 
 "Sit down, child, while I go to your mistress." 
 
 " Shameful ! monstrous ! outrageous ! " she said to her 
 self, as she was crossing the parlor. 
 
 She found Marie sitting up in her easy-chair, with 
 Mammy standing by her, combing her hair; Jane sat on 
 the ground before her, busy in chafing her feet. 
 
 " How do you find yourself, to-day 1 " said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "A deep sigh, and a closing of the eyes, was the only 
 reply, for a moment; and then Marie answered: "Oh, I 
 don t know, cousin; I suppose I m as well as I ever shall 
 be ! " and Marie wiped her eyes with a cambric handker 
 chief, bordered with an inch deep of black. 
 
 "I came," said Miss Ophelia, with a short, dry cough, 
 such as commonly introduces a difficult subject, "I 
 came to speak with you about poor Rosa." 
 
 Marie s eyes were open wide enough now, and a flush 
 rose to her sallow cheeks, as she answered sharply, 
 
86 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 "Well, what about her?" 
 
 "She is very sorry for her fault." 
 
 "She is, is she? She ll be sorrier, before I ve done 
 with her! I ve endured that child s impudence long 
 enough; and now I 11 bring her down, I 11 make her lie 
 in the dust ! " 
 
 " But could not you punish her some other way, some 
 way that would be less shameful ? " 
 
 "I mean to shame her; that s just what I want. She 
 has all her life presumed on her delicacy, and her good 
 looks, and her lady-like airs, till she forgets who she is ; 
 and I 11 give her one lesson that will bring her down, I 
 fancy ! " 
 
 "But, cousin, consider that, if you destroy delicacy and 
 a sense of shame in a young girl, you deprave her very 
 fast." 
 
 "Delicacy!" said Marie, with a scornful laugh, "a 
 fine word for such as she! I ll teach her, with all her 
 airs, that she s no better than the raggedest black wench 
 that walks the streets! She ll take no more airs with 
 me!" 
 
 " You will answer to God for such cruelty ! " said Miss 
 Ophelia, with energy. 
 
 "Cruelty, I d like to know what the cruelty is! I 
 wrote orders for only fifteen lashes, and told him to put 
 them on lightly. I m sure, there s no cruelty there! " 
 
 "No cruelty! " said Miss Ophelia. "I m sure any girl 
 might rather be killed outright ! " 
 
 "It might seem so to anybody with your feeling; but 
 all these creatures get used to it; it s the only way they 
 can be kept in order. Once let them feel that they are to 
 take any airs about delicacy, and all that, and they 11 run 
 all over you, just as my servants always have. I ve be 
 gun now to bring them under; and I ll have them all to 
 know that I 11 send one out to be whipped as soon as an- 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 87 
 
 other, if they don t mind themselves!" said Marie, look 
 ing around her decidedly. 
 
 Jane hung her head and cowered at this, for she felt as 
 if it was particularly directed to her. Miss Ophelia sat 
 for a moment, as if she had swallowed some explosive mix 
 ture, and were ready to burst. Then, recollecting the utter 
 uselessness of contention with such a nature, she shut her 
 lips resolutely, gathered herself up, and walked out of the 
 room. 
 
 It was hard to go back and tell Rosa that she could do 
 nothing for her; and, shortly after, one of the man-ser 
 vants came to say that her mistress had ordered him to 
 take Rosa with him to the whipping-house, whither she 
 was hurried, in spite of her tears and entreaties. 
 
 A few days after, Tom was standing musing by the bal 
 conies, when he was joined by Adolph, who, since the death 
 of his master, had been entirely crestfallen and disconso 
 late. Adolph knew that he had always been an object of 
 dislike to Marie; but while his master lived he had paid 
 but little attention to it. Now that he was gone, he had 
 moved about in daily dread and trembling, not knowing 
 what might befall him next. Marie had held several con 
 sultations with her lawyer; after communicating with St. 
 Clare s brother, it was determined to sell the place, and all 
 the servants, except her own personal property, and these 
 she intended to take with her, and go back to her father s 
 plantation. 
 
 "Do ye know, Tom, that we ve all got to be sold?" 
 said Adolph. 
 
 " How did you hear that ? " said Tom. 
 
 " I hid myself behind the curtains when Missis was talk 
 ing with the lawyer. In a few days we shall all be sent 
 off to auction, Tom. " 
 
 "The Lord s will be done! " said Tom, folding his arms 
 and sighing heavily. 
 
88 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; on 
 
 "We 11 never get another such a master," said Adolph 
 apprehensively; "but I d rather be sold than take my 
 chance under Missis." 
 
 Tom turned away; his heart was full. The hope of 
 liberty, the thought of distant wife and children, rose up 
 before his patient soul, as to the mariner shipwrecked al 
 most in port rises the vision of the church-spire and loving 
 roofs of his native village, seen over the top of some black 
 wave only for one last farewell. He drew his arms tightly 
 over his bosom, and choked back the bitter tears, and tried 
 to pray. The poor old soul had such a singular, unac 
 countable prejudice in favor of liberty, that it was a hard 
 wrench for him; and the more he said, "Thy will be 
 done," the worse he felt. 
 
 He sought Miss Ophelia, who, ever since Eva s death, 
 had treated him with marked and respectful kindness. 
 
 "Miss Feely," he said, "Mas r St. Clare promised me 
 my freedom. He told me that he had begun to take it out 
 for me; and now, perhaps, if Miss Feely would be good 
 enough to speak about it to Missis, she would feel like 
 goin on with it, as it was Mas r St. Clare s wish." 
 
 "I ll speak for you, Tom, and do my best," said Miss 
 Ophelia; "but, if it depends on Mrs. St. Clare, I can t 
 hope much for you ; nevertheless, I will try. " 
 
 This incident occurred a few days after that of Rosa, 
 while Miss Ophelia was busied in preparations to return 
 north. 
 
 Seriously reflecting within herself, she considered that 
 perhaps she had shown too hasty a warmth of language in 
 her former interview with Marie; and she resolved that 
 she would now endeavor to moderate her zeal, and to be as 
 conciliatory as possible. So the good soul gathered herself 
 up, and, taking her knitting, resolved to go into Marie s 
 room, be as agreeable as possible, and negotiate Tom s case 
 with all the diplomatic skill of which she was mistress. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 89 
 
 She found Marie reclining at length upon a lounge, sup 
 porting herself on one elbow by pillows, while Jane, who 
 had been out shopping, was displaying before her certain 
 samples of thin black stuffs. 
 
 "That will do," said Marie, selecting one; "only I m 
 not sure about its being properly mourning." 
 
 "Laws, Missis," said Jane volubly, "Mrs. General Der- 
 bennon wore just this very thing, after the General died, 
 last summer ; it makes up lovely ! " 
 
 " What do you think 1 " said Marie to Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "It s a matter of custom, I suppose," said Miss Ophe 
 lia. "You can judge about it better than I." 
 
 "The fact is," said Marie, "that I haven t a dress in 
 the world that I can wear; and, as I am going to break up 
 the establishment, and go off, next week, I must decide 
 upon something." 
 
 "Are you going so soon?" 
 
 "Yes. St. Clare s brother has written, and he and the 
 lawyer think that the servants and furniture had better be 
 put up at auction, and the place left with our lawyer." 
 
 "There s one thing I wanted to speak with you about," 
 said Miss Ophelia. "Augustine promised Tom his liberty, 
 and began the legal forms necessary to it. I hope you will 
 use your influence to have it perfected." 
 
 "Indeed, I shall do no such thing!" said Marie 
 sharply. "Tom is one of the most valuable servants on the 
 place, it couldn t be afforded, anyway. Besides, what 
 does he want of liberty 1 He s a great deal better off as 
 he is." 
 
 "But he does desire it, very earnestly, and his master 
 promised it," said Miss Ophelia. 
 
 "I dare say he does want it," said Marie; "they all 
 want it, just because they are a discontented set, always 
 wanting what they have n t got. Now, I m principled 
 against emancipating, in any case. Keep a negro under the 
 
90 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 care of a master, and he does well enough, and is respect 
 able; but set them free, and they get lazy, and won t work, 
 and take to drinking, and go all down to be mean, worth 
 less fellows. I ve seen it tried, hundreds of times. It s 
 no favor to set them free." 
 
 "But Tom is so steady, industrious, and pious." 
 
 "Oh, you needn t tell me! I ve seen a hundred like 
 him. He 11 do very well, as long as he s taken care of, 
 that sail." 
 
 "But, then, consider," said Miss Ophelia, "when you 
 set him up for sale, the chances of his getting a bad mas 
 ter." 
 
 "Oh, that s all humbug!" said Marie; "it isn t one 
 time in a hundred that a good fellow gets a bad master; 
 most masters are good, for all the talk that is made. I ve 
 lived and grown up here, in the south, and I never yet was 
 acquainted with a master that didn t treat his servants 
 well, quite as well as is worth while. I don t feel any 
 fears on that head." 
 
 "Well," said Miss Ophelia energetically, "I know it 
 was one of the last wishes of your husband that Tom should 
 have his liberty ; it was one of the promises that he made 
 to dear little Eva on her death-bed, and I should not think 
 you would feel at liberty to disregard it." 
 
 Marie had her face covered with her handkerchief at this 
 appeal, and began sobbing and using her smelling-bottle, 
 with great vehemence. 
 
 " Everybody goes against me !" she said. "Everybody 
 is so inconsiderate ! I shouldn t have expected that you 
 would bring up all these remembrances of my troubles to 
 me, it s so inconsiderate! But nobody ever does con 
 sider, my trials are so peculiar! It s so hard, that when 
 I had only one daughter, she should have been taken ! 
 and when I had a husband that just exactly suited me, 
 and I m so hard to be suited! he should be taken! And 
 

 LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 91 
 
 you seem to have so little feeling for me, and keep bring 
 ing it up to me so carelessly, when you know how it 
 overcomes me ! I suppose you mean well ; but it is very 
 inconsiderate, very ! " And Marie sobbed, and gasped 
 for breath, and called Mammy to open the window, and to 
 bring her the camphor-bottle, and to bathe her head, and 
 unhook her dress. And, in the general confusion that 
 ensued, Miss Ophelia made her escape to her apartment. 
 
 She saw, at once, that it would do no good to say any 
 thing more ; for Marie had an indefinite capacity for hys 
 teric fits; and, after this, whenever her husband s or 
 Eva s wishes with regard to the servants were alluded to, 
 she always found it convenient to set one in operation. 
 Miss Ophelia, therefore, did the next best thing she could 
 for Tom, she wrote a letter to Mrs. Shelby for him, stat 
 ing his troubles, and urging them to send to his relief. 
 
 The next day, Tom and Adolph, and some half a dozen 
 other servants, were marched down to a slave warehouse, 
 to await the convenience of the trader, who was going to 
 make up a lot for auction. 
 
 
92 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE SLAVE WAREHOUSE 
 
 A SLAVE warehouse! Perhaps some of my readers 
 conjure up horrible visions of such a place. They fancy 
 some foul, obscure den, some horrible Tartarus " in for mis, 
 ingens, cui lumen ademptum." But no, innocent friend; 
 in these days men have learned the art of sinning ex 
 pertly and genteelly, so as not to shock the eyes and 
 senses of respectable society. Human property is high in 
 the market; and is, therefore, well fed, well cleaned, 
 tended, and looked after, that it may come to sale sleek, 
 and strong, and shining. A slave warehouse in New Or 
 leans is a house externally not much unlike many others, 
 kept with neatness; and where every day you may see 
 arranged, under a sort of shed along the outside, rows of 
 men and women, who stand there as a sign of the property 
 sold within. 
 
 Then you shall be courteously entreated to call and 
 examine, and shall find an abundance of husbands, wives, 
 brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, and young children, to 
 be "sold separately, or in lots, to suit the convenience of 
 the purchaser ; " and that soul immortal, once bought with 
 blood and anguish by the Son of God, when the earth 
 shook, and the rocks were rent, and the graves were opened, 
 can be sold, leased, mortgaged, exchanged for groceries or 
 dry goods, to suit the phases of trade, or the fancy of the 
 purchaser. 
 
 It was a day or two after the conversation between 
 Marie and Miss Ophelia, that Tom, Adolph, and about 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 93 
 
 half a dozen others of the St. Clare estate, were turned 
 over to the loving kindness of Mr. Skeggs, the keeper of a 
 
 depot on street, to await the auction next day. 
 
 Tom had with him quite a sizable trunk full of clothing, 
 as had most others of them. They were ushered, for the 
 night, into a long room, where many other men, of all 
 ages, sizes, and shades of complexion, were assembled, and 
 from which roars of laughter and unthinking merriment 
 were proceeding. 
 
 "Ah, ha! that s right. Go it, boys, go it!" said 
 Mr. Skeggs, the keeper. "My people are always so 
 merry! Sambo, I see!" he said, speaking approvingly to 
 a burly negro who was performing tricks of low buffoon 
 ery, which occasioned the shouts which Tom had heard. 
 
 As might be imagined, Tom was in no humor to join 
 these proceedings; and, therefore, setting his trunk as far 
 as possible from the noisy group, he sat down on it, and 
 leaned his face against the wall. 
 
 The dealers in the human article make scrupulous and 
 systematic efforts to promote noisy mirth among them, as a 
 means of drowning reflection, and rendering them insensible 
 to their condition. The whole object of the training to 
 which the negro is put, from the time he is sold in the 
 northern market till he arrives south, is systematically di 
 rected towards making him callous, unthinking, and brutal. 
 The slave- dealer collects his gang in Virginia or Ken 
 tucky, and drives them to some convenient, healthy place, 
 often a watering-place, to be fattened. Here they are 
 fed full daily ; and, because some incline to pine, a fiddle is 
 kept commonly going among them, and they are made to 
 dance daily ; and he who refuses to be merry in whose 
 soul thoughts of wife, or child, or home, are too strong for 
 him to be gay is marked as sullen and dangerous, and 
 subjected to all the evils which the ill will of an utterly 
 irresponsible and hardened man can inflict upon him. 
 
94 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 Briskness, alertness, and cheerfulness of appearance, espe 
 cially before observers, are constantly enforced upon them, 
 both by the hope of thereby getting a good master, and 
 the fear of all that the driver may bring upon them, if they 
 prove unsalable. 
 
 " What dat ar nigger doin here 1 " said Sambo, coming 
 up to Tom, after Mr. Skeggs had left the room. Sambo 
 was a full black, of great size, very lively, voluble, and full 
 of trick and grimace. 
 
 "What you doin here?" said Sambo, coming up to 
 Tom, and poking him facetiously in the side. "Medita- 
 tin , eh?" 
 
 "I am to be sold at the auction, to-morrow!" said 
 Tom quietly. 
 
 " Sold at auction, haw ! haw ! boys, ain t this yer fun ? 
 I wish t I was gwine that arway! tell ye, wouldn t 
 I make em laugh ? But how is it, dis yer whole lot 
 gwine to-morrow 1 " said Sambo, laying his hand freely on 
 Adolph s shoulder. 
 
 " Please to let me alone ! " said Adolph fiercely, straight 
 ening himself up, with extreme disgust. 
 
 "Law, now, boys! dis yer s one o yer white niggers, 
 kind o cream-color, ye know, scented ! " said he, coming 
 up to Adolph and snuffing. "0 Lor! he d do for a to- 
 baccer-shop; they could keep him to scent snuff! Lor, 
 he d keep a whole shop a-gwine, he would ! " 
 
 "I say, keep off, can t you?" said Adolph enraged. 
 
 "Lor, now, how touchy we is, we white niggers! 
 Look at us, now ! " and Sambo gave a ludicrous imitation 
 of Adolph s manner; "here s de airs and graces. We s 
 been in a good family, I specs." 
 
 "Yes," said Adolph; "I had a master that could have 
 bought you all for old truck ! " 
 
 "Laws, now, only think," said Sambo, "the gentlemens 
 that we is ! " 
 

 LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 95 
 
 "I belonged to the St. Clare family," said Adolph 
 proudly. 
 
 "Lor, you did! Be hanged if they arn t lucky to get 
 shet of ye. Spects they s gwine to trade ye off with a lot 
 o cracked teapots and sich like ! " said Sambo, with a pro 
 voking grin. 
 
 Adolph, enraged at this taunt, flew furiously at his 
 adversary, swearing and striking on every side of him. 
 The rest laughed and shouted, and the uproar brought the 
 keeper to the door. 
 
 "What now, boys? Order, order! 7 he said, coming 
 in and flourishing a large whip. 
 
 All fled in different directions, except Sambo, who, pre 
 suming on the favor which the keeper had to him as a 
 licensed wag, stood his ground, ducking his head with a 
 facetious grin, whenever the master made a dive at him. 
 
 "Lor, Mas r, t ain t us, we s reg lar stiddy, it s 
 these yer new hands; they s real aggravating kinder 
 pickin at us, all time ! " 
 
 The keeper, at this, turned upon Tom and Adolph, and 
 distributing a few kicks and cuffs without much inquiry, 
 and leaving general orders for all to be good boys and go 
 to sleep, left the apartment. 
 
 While this scene was going on in the men s sleeping- 
 room, the reader may be curious to take a peep at the 
 corresponding apartment allotted to the women. Stretched 
 out in various attitudes over the floor, he may see number 
 less sleeping forms of every shade of complexion, from the 
 purest ebony to white, and of all years, from childhood to 
 old age, lying now asleep. Here is a fine bright girl, of 
 ten years, whose mother was sold out yesterday, and who 
 to-night cried herself to sleep when nobody was looking at 
 her. Here, a worn old negress, whose thin arms and cal 
 lous fingers tell of hard toil, waiting to be sold to-morrow, 
 as a cast-off article, for what can be got for her; and some 
 
96 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 forty or fifty others, with heads variously enveloped in 
 blankets or articles of clothing, lie stretched around them. 
 But, in a corner, sitting apart from the rest, are two 
 females of a more interesting appearance than common. 
 One of these is a respectably dressed mulatto woman 
 between forty and fifty, with soft eyes and a gentle and 
 pleasing physiognomy. She has on her head a high-raised 
 turban, made of a gay red Madras handkerchief, of the first 
 quality, and her dress is neatly fitted, and of good material, 
 showing that she has been provided for with a careful 
 hand. By her side, and nestling closely to her, is a young 
 girl of fifteen, her daughter. She is a quadroon, as 
 may be seen from her fairer complexion, though her like 
 ness to her mother is quite discernible. She has the same 
 soft, dark eye, with longer lashes, and her curling hair is 
 of a luxuriant brown. She also is dressed with great 
 neatness, and her white, delicate hands betray very little 
 acquaintance with servile toil. These two are to be sold 
 to-morrow, in the same lot with the St. Clare servants; 
 and the gentleman to whom they belong, and to whom the 
 money for their sale is to be transmitted, is a member of a 
 Christian church in New York, who will receive the 
 money, and go thereafter to the sacrament of his Lord and 
 theirs, and think no more of it. 
 
 These two, whom we shall call Susan and Emmeline, 
 had been the personal attendants of an amiable and pious 
 lady of New Orleans, by whom they had been carefully 
 and piously instructed and trained. They had been taught 
 to read and write, diligently instructed in the truths of 
 religion, and their lot had been as happy an one as in 
 their condition it was possible to be. But the only son of 
 their protectress had the management of her property; 
 and, by carelessness and extravagance, involved it to a 
 large amount, and at last failed. One of the largest credi 
 tors was the respectable firm of B. & Co., in New York. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 97 
 
 B. & Co. wrote to their lawyer in New Orleans, who at 
 tached the real estate (these two articles and a lot of plan 
 tation hands formed the most valuable part of it), and 
 wrote word to that effect to New York. Brother B., be 
 ing, as we have said, a Christian man, and a resident in a 
 free state, felt some uneasiness on the subject. He did n t 
 like trading in slaves and souls of men, of course, he 
 didn t; but, then, there were thirty thousand dollars in 
 the case, and that was rather too much money to be lost 
 for a principle; and so, after much considering, and ask 
 ing advice from those that he knew would advise to suit 
 him, Brother B. wrote to his lawyer to dispose of the busi 
 ness in the way that seemed to him the most suitable, and 
 remit the proceeds. 
 
 The day after the letter arrived in New Orleans, Susan 
 and Emmeline were attached, and sent to the depot to 
 await a general auction on the following morning; and as 
 they glimmer faintly upon us in the moonlight which 
 steals through the grated window, we may listen to their 
 conversation. Both are weeping, but each quietly, that 
 the other may not hear. 
 
 "Mother, just lay your head on my lap, and see if you 
 can t sleep a little," says the girl, trying to appear calm. 
 
 "I haven t any heart to sleep, Em; I can t; it s the 
 last night we may be together ! " 
 
 "Oh, mother, don t say so! perhaps we shall get sold 
 together, who knows 1 " 
 
 "If twas anybody s else case, I should say so, too, 
 Em," said the woman; "but I m so feard of losin you 
 that I don t see anything but the danger." 
 
 "Why, mother, the man said we were both likely, and 
 would sell well." 
 
 Susan remembered the man s looks and words. With a 
 deadly sickness at her heart, she remembered how he had 
 looked at Emmeline s hands, and lifted up her curly hair, 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
98 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 arid pronounced her a first-rate article. Susan had been 
 trained as a Christian, brought up in the daily reading of 
 the Bible, and had the same horror of her child s being 
 sold to a life of shame that any other Christian mother 
 might have ; but she had no hope, no protection. 
 
 "Mother, I think we might do first-rate, if you could 
 get a place as cook, and I as chambermaid or seamstress, 
 in some family. I dare say we shall. Let s both look as 
 bright and lively as we can, and tell all we can do, and 
 perhaps we shall," said Emmeline 
 
 "I want you to brush your hair all back straight, to 
 morrow," said Susan. 
 
 "What for, mother? I don t look near so well, that 
 way. " 
 
 "Yes, but you 11 sell better so." 
 
 "I don t see why! " said the child. 
 
 "Respectable families would be more apt to buy you, 
 if they saw you looked plain and decent, as if you was n t 
 trying to look handsome. I know their ways better n you 
 do," said Susan. 
 
 "Well, mother, then I will." 
 
 "And, Emmeline, if we shouldn t ever see each other 
 again, after to-morrow, if I m sold way up on a planta 
 tion somewhere, and you somewhere else, always re 
 member how you ve been brought up, and all Missis has 
 told you ; take your Bible with you, and your hymn-book ; 
 and if you re faithful to the Lord, he 11 be faithful to 
 you." 
 
 So speaks the poor soul, in sore discouragement; for she 
 knows that to-morrow any man, however vile and brutal, 
 however godless and merciless, if he only has money to pay 
 for her, may become owner of her daughter, body and 
 soul; and then, how is the child to be faithful? She 
 thinks of all this, as she holds her daughter in her arms, 
 and wishes that she were not handsome and attractive. It 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 99 
 
 seems almost an aggravation to her to remember how 
 purely and piously, how much above the ordinary lot, she 
 has been brought up. But she has no resort but to pray ; 
 and many such prayers to God have gone up from those 
 same trim, neatly arranged, respectable slave-prisons, 
 prayers which God has not forgotten, as a coming day shall 
 show; for it is written, "Whoso causeth one of these little 
 ones to offend, it were better for him that a mill-stone were 
 hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the 
 depths of the sea." 
 
 The soft, earnest, quiet moonbeam looks in fixedly, 
 marking the bars of the grated windows on the prostrate, 
 sleeping forms. The mother and daughter are singing 
 together a wild and melancholy dirge, common as a funeral 
 hymn among the slaves : 
 
 " Oh, where is weeping Mary ? 
 Oh, where is weeping Mary ? 
 
 Rived in the goodly land. 
 She is dead and gone to heaven ; 
 She is dead and gone to heaven; 
 
 Rived in the goodly land." 
 
 These words, sung by voices of a peculiar and melancholy 
 sweetness, in an air which seemed like the sighing of 
 earthly despair after heavenly hope, floated through the 
 dark prison-rooms with a pathetic cadence, as verse after 
 verse was breathed out, 
 
 " Oh, where are Paul and Silas ? 
 Oh, where are Paul and Silas ? 
 
 Gone to the goodly land. 
 They are dead and gone to heaven ; 
 They are dead and gone to heaven ; 
 
 Rived in the goodly land." 
 
 Sing on, poor souls ! The night is short, and the morn 
 ing will part you forever! 
 
 But now it is morning, and everybody is astir; and the 
 worthy Mr. Skeggs is busy and bright, for a lot of goods 
 is to be fitted out for auction. There is a brisk lookout 
 
100 UNCLE TOM S CABIX; OR 
 
 on the toilet; injunctions passed around to every one to 
 put on their best face and be spry; and now all are ar 
 ranged in a circle for a last review, before they are marched 
 up to the Bourse. 
 
 Mr. Skeggs, with his palmetto on and his cigar in his 
 mouth, walks around to put farewell touches on his wares. 
 
 "How s this? " he said, stepping in front of Susan and 
 Emmeline. "Where s your curls, gal?" 
 
 The girl looked timidly at her mother, who, with the 
 smooth adroitness common among her class, answers, 
 
 " I was telling her, last night, to put up her hair smooth 
 and neat, and not havin it flying about in curls; looks 
 more respectable so." 
 
 "Bother!" said the man peremptorily, turning to the 
 girl ; " you go right along, and curl yourself real smart ! " 
 He added, giving a crack to a rattan he held in his hand, 
 " And be back in quick time, too ! " 
 
 "You go and help her," he added, to the mother. 
 " Them curls may make a hundred dollars difference in the 
 sale of her. " 
 
 Beneath a splendid dome were men of all nations, mov 
 ing to and fro, over the marble pave. On every side of the 
 circular area were little tribunes, or stations, for the use 
 of speakers and auctioneers. Two of these, on opposite 
 sides of the area, were now occupied by brilliant and tal 
 ented gentlemen, enthusiastically forcing up, in English 
 and French commingled, the bids of connoisseurs in their 
 various wares. A third one, on the other side, still unoc 
 cupied, was surrounded by a group, waiting the moment of 
 sale to begin. And here we may recognize the St. Clare 
 servants, Tom, Adolph, and others ; and there, too, 
 Susan and Emmeline, awaiting their turn with anxious and 
 dejected faces. Various spectators, intending to purchase, 
 or not intending, as the case might be, gathered around the 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 101 
 
 group, handling, examining, and commenting on their 
 various points and faces with the same freedom that a set 
 of jockeys discuss the merits of a horse. 
 
 " Hulloa, Alf ! what brings you here ? " said a young ex 
 quisite, slapping the shoulder of a sprucely dressed young 
 man, who was examining Adolph through an eyeglass. 
 
 "Well, I was wanting a valet, and I heard that St. 
 Clare s lot was going. I thought I d just look at his " 
 
 "Catch me ever buying any of St. Clare s people! 
 Spoilt niggers, every one. Impudent as the devil ! " said 
 the other. 
 
 "Never fear that! " said the first. "If I get em, I 11 
 soon have their airs out of them; they ll soon find that 
 they ve another kind of master to deal with than Monsieur 
 St. Clare. Ton my word, I 11 buy that fellow. I like 
 the shape of him." 
 
 "You ll find it ll take all you ve got to keep him. 
 He s deucedly extravagant! " 
 
 "Yes, but my lord will find that he can t be extravagant 
 with me. Just let him be sent to the calaboose a few 
 times, and thoroughly dressed down! I 11 tell you if it 
 don t bring him to a sense of his ways! Oh, I 11 reform 
 him, up hill and down, you 11 see. I buy him, that s 
 flat!" 
 
 Tom had been standing wistfully examining the multi 
 tude of faces thronging around him, for one whom he would 
 wish to call master. And if you should ever be under the 
 necessity, sir, of selecting, out of two hundred men, one 
 who was to become your absolute owner and disposer, you 
 would, perhaps, realize, just as Tom did, how few there 
 were that you would feel at all comfortable in being made 
 over to. Tom saw abundance of men, great, burly, 
 gruff men ; little, chirping, dried men ; long-favored, lank, 
 hard men; and every variety of stubbed-looking, com 
 monplace men, who pick up their fellow men as one picks 
 
102 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 up chips, putting them into the fire or a basket with equal 
 unconcern, according to their convenience; but he saw no 
 St. Clare. 
 
 A little before the sale commenced, a short, broad, mus 
 cular man, in a checked shirt considerably open at the 
 bosom, and pantaloons much the worse for dirt and wear, 
 elbowed his way through the crowd, like one who is going 
 actively into a business; and, coming up to the group, be 
 gan to examine them systematically. From the moment 
 that Tom saw him approaching, he felt an immediate and 
 revolting horror at him, that increased as he came near. 
 He was evidently, though short, of gigantic strength. His 
 round bullet-head, large, light-gray eyes, with their shaggy, 
 sandy eyebrows and stiff, wiry, sunburned hair, were rather 
 unprepossessing items, it is to be confessed; his large, 
 coarse mouth was distended with tobacco, the juice of 
 which, from time to time, he ejected from him with great 
 decision and explosive force; his hands were immensely 
 large, hairy, sunburned, freckled, and very dirty, and gar 
 nished with long nails, in a very foul condition. This man 
 proceeded to a very free personal examination of the lot. 
 He seized Tom by the jaw, and pulled open his mouth 
 to inspect his teeth; made him strip up his sleeve, to show 
 his muscle; turned him round, made him jump and spring, 
 to show his paces. 
 
 "Where was you raised?" he added briefly to these 
 investigations. 
 
 "In Kintuck, Mas r," said Tom, looking about, as if 
 for deliverance. 
 
 "What have you done? 5 
 
 "Had care of MasVs farm," said Tom. 
 
 "Likely story!" said the other shortly, as he passed 
 on. He paused a moment before Dolph; then spitting a 
 discharge of tobacco-juice on his well-blacked boots, and 
 giving a contemptuous umph, he walked on. Again he 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 103 
 
 stopped before Susan and Emmeline. He put out his 
 heavy, dirty hand, and drew the girl towards him; passed 
 it over her neck and bust, felt her arms, looked at her 
 teeth, and then pushed her back against her mother, whose 
 patient face showed the suffering she had been going 
 through at every motion of the hideous stranger. 
 
 The girl was frightened, and began to cry. 
 
 "Stop that, you minx!" said the salesman: "no whim 
 pering here, the sale is going to begin. " 
 
 And accordingly the sale began. 
 
 Adolph was knocked off, at a good sum, to the young 
 gentleman who had previously stated his intention of buy 
 ing him; and the other servants of the St. Clare lot went 
 to various bidders. 
 
 "Now, up with you, boy! d ye hear?" said the 
 auctioneer to Tom. 
 
 Tom stepped upon the block, gave a few anxious looks 
 round; all seemed mingled in a common, indistinct noise, 
 the clatter of the salesman crying off his qualifications 
 in French and English, the quick fire of French and Eng 
 lish bids ; and almost in a moment came the final thump of 
 the hammer, and the clear ring on the last syllable of the 
 word "dollars," as the auctioneer announced his price, 
 and Tom was made over. He had a master. 
 
 He was pushed from the block; the short, bull-headed 
 man, seizing him roughly by the shoulder, pushed him to 
 one side, saying, in a harsh voice, " Stand there, you f " 
 
 Tom hardly realized anything; but still the bidding 
 went on, rattling, clattering, now French, now English. 
 Down goes the hammer again, Susan is sold ! She goes 
 down from the block, stops, looks wistfully back, her 
 daughter stretches her hands towards her. She looks with 
 agony in the face of the man who has bought her, a 
 respectable, middle-aged man, of benevolent countenance. 
 
 "Oh, Mas r, please do buy my daughter!" 
 
104 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 "I d like to, but I m afraid I can t afford it! " said the 
 gentleman, looking, with painful interest, as the young girl 
 mounted the block, and looked around her with a fright 
 ened and timid glance. 
 
 The blood flushes painfully in her otherwise colorless 
 cheek, her eye has a feverish fire, and her mother groans 
 to see that she looks more beautiful than she ever saw her 
 before. The auctioneer sees his advantage, and expatiates 
 volubly in mingled French and English, and bids rise in 
 rapid succession. 
 
 "I 11 do anything in reason," said the benevolent-look 
 ing gentleman, pressing in and joining with the bids. In 
 a few moments they have run beyond his purse. He is 
 silent; the auctioneer grows warmer; but bids gradually 
 drop off. It lies now between an aristocratic old citizen 
 and our bullet-headed acquaintance. The citizen bids for 
 a few turns, contemptuously measuring his opponent; but 
 the bullet-head has the advantage over him, both in obsti 
 nacy and concealed length of purse, and the controversy 
 lasts but a moment; the hammer falls, he has got the 
 girl, body and soul, unless God help her. 
 
 Her master is Mr. Legree, who owns a cotton plantation 
 on the Red River. She is pushed along into the same lot 
 with Tom and two other men, and goes off, weeping as 
 she goes. 
 
 The benevolent gentleman is sorry; but, then, the 
 thing happens every day ! One sees girls and mothers 
 crying, at these sales, always ! it can t be helped, etc. ; 
 and he walks off, with his acquisition, in another direction. 
 
 Two days after, the lawyer of the Christian firm of B. 
 & Co., New York, sent on their money to them. On the 
 reverse of that draft, so obtained, let them write these 
 words of the great Paymaster, to whom they shall make up 
 their account in a future day: " When he maketh inquisi 
 tion for blood, he forgetteth not the cry of the humble ! " 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 105 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE MIDDLE PASSAGE 
 
 " Thou art of purer eyes than to behold evil, and canst not look upon 
 iniquity: wherefore lookest thou upon them that deal treacherously, and 
 holdest thy tongue when the wicked devoureth the man that is more 
 righteous than he ? " Hob. i. 13. 
 
 ON the lower part of a small, mean boat, on the Ked 
 Eiver, Tom sat, chains on his wrists, chains on his feet, 
 and a weight heavier than chains lay on his heart. All 
 had faded from his sky, moon and star ; all had passed 
 by him, as the trees and banks were now passing, to re 
 turn no more. Kentucky home, with wife and children, 
 and indulgent owners; St. Clare home, with all its refine 
 ments and splendors; the golden head of Eva, with its 
 saint-like eyes; the proud, gay, handsome, seemingly care 
 less, yet ever-kind St. Clare; hours of ease and indulgent 
 leisure, all gone ! and in place thereof, what remains ? 
 
 It is one of the bitterest apportionments of a lot of 
 slavery, that the negro,- sympathetic and assimilative, 
 after acquiring, in a refined family, the tastes and feelings 
 which form the atmosphere of such a place, is not the less 
 liable to become the bond-slave of the coarsest and most 
 brutal, just as a chair or table, which once decorated the 
 superb saloon, comes, at last, battered and defaced, to the 
 bar-room of some filthy tavern, or some low haunt of vul 
 gar debauchery. The great difference is, that the table and 
 chair cannot feel, and the man can; for even a legal en 
 actment that he shall be "taken, reputed, adjudged in law, 
 to be a chattel personal," cannot blot out his soul, with its 
 
106 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 own private little world of memories, hopes, loves, fears, 
 and desires. 
 
 Mr. Simon Legree, Tom s master, had purchased slaves 
 at one place and another, in New Orleans, to the number 
 of eight, and driven them, handcuffed, in couples of two 
 and two, down to the good steamer Pirate, which lay at the 
 levee, ready for a trip up the Red River. 
 
 Having got them fairly on board, and the boat being off, 
 he came round, with that air of efficiency which ever 
 characterized him, to take a review of them. Stopping 
 opposite to Tom, who had been attired for sale in his best 
 broadcloth suit, with well-starched linen and shining boots, 
 he briefly expressed himself as follows : 
 
 "Stand up." 
 
 Tom stood up. 
 
 "Take off that stock! " and, as Tom, encumbered by his 
 fetters, proceeded to do it, he assisted him, by pulling it, 
 with no gentle hand, from his neck, and putting it in his 
 pocket. 
 
 Legree now turned to Tom s trunk, which, previous to 
 this, he had been ransacking, and, taking from it a pair of 
 old pantaloons and a dilapidated coat, which Tom had been 
 wont to put on about his stable-work, he said, liberating 
 Tom s hands from the handcuffs, and pointing to a recess 
 in among the boxes, 
 
 "You go there, and put these on." 
 
 Tom obeyed, and in a few moments returned. 
 
 "Take off your boots," said Mr. Legree. 
 
 Tom did so. 
 
 "There," said the former, throwing him a pair of 
 coarse, stout shoes, such as were common among the slaves, 
 "put these on." 
 
 In Tom s hurried exchange, he had not forgotten to 
 transfer his cherished Bible to his pocket. It was well he 
 did so; for Mr. Legree, having refitted Tom s handcuff s, 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 107 
 
 proceeded deliberately to investigate the contents of his 
 pockets. He drew out a silk handkerchief, and put it into 
 his own pocket. Several little trifles, which Tom had 
 treasured, chiefly because they had amused Eva, he looked 
 upon with a contemptuous grunt, and tossed them over his 
 shoulder into the river. 
 
 Tom s Methodist hymn-book, which, in his hurry, he 
 had forgotten, he now held up and turned over. 
 
 "Humph! pious, to be sure. So, what s yer name, 
 you belong to the church, eh ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mas r," said Tom firmly. 
 
 "Well, I 11 soon have that out of you. I have none o 
 yer bawling, praying, singing niggers on my place; so re 
 member. Now, mind yourself," he said, with a stamp 
 and a fierce glance of his gray eye, directed at Tom, "I m 
 your church now! You understand, you ve got to be 
 as I say." 
 
 Something within the silent black man answered No ! 
 and, as if repeated by an invisible voice, came the words 
 of an old prophetic scroll, as Eva had often read them to 
 him, "Fear not! for I have redeemed thee. I have 
 called thee by my name. Thou art MINE ! " 
 
 But Simon Legree heard no voice. That voice is one 
 he never shall hear. He only glared for a moment on the 
 downcast face of Tom, and walked off. He took Tom s 
 trunk, which contained a very neat and abundant wardrobe, 
 to the forecastle, where it was soon surrounded by various 
 hands of the boat. With much laughing, at the expense 
 of niggers who tried to be gentlemen, the articles very 
 readily were sold to one and another, and the empty trunk 
 finally put up at auction. It was a good joke, they all 
 thought, especially to see how Tom looked after his things, 
 as they were going this way and that ; and then the auction 
 of the trunk, that was funnier than all, and occasioned 
 abundant witticisms. 
 
108 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 This little affair being over, Simon sauntered up again 
 to his property. 
 
 "Now, Tom, I ve relieved you of any extra baggage, 
 you see. Take mighty good care of them clothes. It 11 
 be long enough fore you get more. I go in for making 
 niggers careful; one suit has to do for one year, on my 
 place. " 
 
 Simon next walked up to the place where Emmeline was 
 sitting, chained to another woman. 
 
 "Well, my dear," he said, chucking her under the chin, 
 "keep up your spirits." 
 
 The involuntary look of horror, fright, and aversion with 
 which the girl regarded him did not escape his eye. 
 He frowned fiercely. 
 
 "None o your shines, gal! you s got to keep a pleasant 
 face, when I speak to ye, d ye hear? And you, you 
 old yellow poco moonshine ! " he said, giving a shove to 
 the mulatto woman to whom Emmeline was chained, "don t 
 you carry that sort of face ! You s got to look chipper, I 
 tell ye ! " 
 
 "I say, all on ye," he said, retreating a pace or two 
 back, "look at me, look at me, look me right in the 
 eye, straight > now! " said he, stamping his foot at every 
 pause. 
 
 As by a fascination, every eye was now directed to the 
 glaring greenish-gray eye of Simon. 
 
 "Now," said he, doubling his great, heavy fist into 
 something resembling a blacksmith s hammer, "d ye see 
 this fist ? Heft it ! " he said, bringing it down on Tom s 
 hand. "Look at these yer bones! Well, I tell ye this 
 yer fist has got as hard as iron knocking doivn niggers. 
 I never see the nigger, yet, I couldn t bring down with one 
 crack," said he, bringing his fist down so near to the face 
 of Tom that he winked and drew back. "I don t keep 
 none o yer cussed overseers; I does my own overseeing; 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 109 
 
 and I tell you things is seen to. You s every one on ye 
 got to toe the mark, I tell ye ; quick, straight, the 
 moment I speak. That s the way to keep in with me. 
 Ye won t find no soft spot in me, nowhere. So, now, 
 mind yerselves; for I don t show no mercy! " 
 
 The women involuntarily drew in their breath, and the 
 whole gang sat with downcast, dejected faces. Mean 
 while, Simon turned on his heel, and marched up to the 
 bar of the boat for a dram. 
 
 "That s the way I begin with my niggers," he said to 
 a gentlemanly man who had stood by him during his 
 speech. "It s my system to begin strong, just let em 
 know what to expect." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said the stranger, looking upon him with 
 the curiosity of a naturalist studying some out-of-the-way 
 specimen. 
 
 "Yes, indeed. I m none o yer gentlemen planters, 
 with lily fingers, to slop round and be cheated by some old 
 cuss of an overseer! Just feel of my knuckles, now; look 
 at my fist. Tell ye, sir, the flesh on t has come jest like 
 a stone, practicing on niggers, feel on it. " 
 
 The stranger applied his fingers to the implement in 
 question, and simply said, 
 
 " Tis hard enough; and, I suppose," he added, "prac 
 tice has made your heart just like it." 
 
 "Why, yes, I may say so," said Simon, with a hearty 
 laugh. "I reckon there sas little soft in me as in any one 
 going. Tell you, nobody comes it over me ! Niggers never 
 gets round me, neither with squalling nor soft soap, 
 that s a fact." 
 
 "You have a fine lot there." 
 
 "Keal," said Simon. "There s that Tom, they telled 
 me he was suthin uncommon. I paid a little high for him, 
 tendin him for a driver and a managing chap; only get 
 the notions out that he s larnt by being treated as niggers 
 
110 UNCLE TOM S CARTX ; OR 
 
 never ought to be, he 11 do prime! The yellow woman I 
 got took in in. I rayther think she s sickly, but I shall 
 put her through for what she s worth; she may last a year 
 or two. I don t go for savin niggers. Use up, and buy 
 more s my way, makes you less trouble, and I m quite 
 sure it comes cheaper in the end ; " and Simon sipped his 
 glass. 
 
 "And how long do they generally last? " said the stran 
 ger. 
 
 "Well, donno; cordin as their constitution is. Stout 
 fellers last six or seven years; trashy ones gets worked up 
 in two or three. I used to, when I fust begun, have 
 considerable trouble fussin with em, and trying to make 
 em hold out, doctorin on em up when they s sick and 
 givin on em clothes and blankets, and what not, tryin to 
 keep em all sort o decent and comfortable. Law, t was n t 
 no sort o use; I lost money on em, and twas heaps o 
 trouble. Now, you see, I just put em straight through, 
 sick or well. When one nigger s dead, I buy another; 
 and I find it comes cheaper and easier, every way." 
 
 The stranger turned away, and seated himself beside a 
 gentleman, who had been listening to the conversation with 
 repressed uneasiness. 
 
 "You must not take that fellow to be any specimen of 
 southern planters," said he. 
 
 "I should hope not," said the young gentleman, with 
 emphasis. 
 
 "He is a mean, low, brutal fellow! " said the other. 
 
 "And yet your laws allow him to hold any number of 
 human beings subject to his absolute will, without even a 
 shadow of protection; and, low as he is, you cannot say 
 that there are not many such." 
 
 "Well," said the other, "there are also many considerate 
 and humane men among planters." 
 
 "Granted," said the young man; "but, in my opinion, 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 111 
 
 it is you considerate, humane men, that are responsible for 
 all the brutality and outrage wrought by these wretches; 
 because, if it were not for your sanction and influence, the 
 whole system could not keep foothold for an hour. If there 
 were no planters except such as that one, " said he, pointing 
 with his finger to Legree, who stood with his back to 
 them, "the whole thing would go down like a mill-stone. 
 It is your respectability and humanity that licenses and 
 protects his brutality." 
 
 " You certainly have a high opinion of my good nature, " 
 said the planter, smiling; "but I advise you not to talk 
 quite so loud, as there are people on board the boat who 
 might not be quite so tolerant to opinion as I am. You 
 had better wait till I get up to my plantation, and there 
 you may abuse us all, quite at your leisure. 7 
 
 The young gentleman colored and smiled, and the two 
 were soon busy in a game of backgammon. Meanwhile, 
 another conversation was going on in the lower part of the 
 boat, between Emmeline and the mulatto woman with 
 whom she was confined. As was natural, they were ex 
 changing with each other some particulars of their history. 
 
 "Who did you belong to? " said Emmeline. 
 
 "Well, my Mas r was Mr. Ellis, lived on Levee 
 Street. PVaps you ve seen the house." 
 
 "Was he good to you? " said Emmeline. 
 
 "Mostly, till he tuk sick. He s lain sick, off and on, 
 more than six months, and been orful oneasy. Pears like 
 he warn t willin to have nobody rest, day nor night; and 
 got so curous, there couldn t nobody suit him. Pears like 
 he just grew crosser, every day; kep me up nights till I 
 got farly beat out, and couldn t keep awake no longer; and 
 cause I got to sleep, one night, Lors, he talk so orful to 
 me, and he tell me he d sell me to just the hardest master 
 he could find; and he d promised me my freedom, too, 
 when he died." 
 
112 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Had you any friends ? " said Emmeline. 
 
 "Yes, my husband, he s a blacksmith. Mas r gen ly 
 hired him out. They took me off so quick, I didn t even 
 have time to see him; and I s got four children. Oh, 
 dear me ! " said the woman, covering her face with her 
 hands. 
 
 It is a natural impulse, in every one, when they hear a 
 tale of distress, to think of something to say by way of 
 consolation. Emmeline wanted to say something, but she 
 could not think of anything to say. What was there to be 
 said ? As by a common consent, they both avoided, with 
 fear and dread, all mention of the horrible man who was 
 now their master. 
 
 True, there is religious trust for even the darkest hour. 
 The mulatto woman was a member of the Methodist 
 Church, and had an unenlightened but very sincere spirit of 
 piety. Emmeline had been educated much more intelli 
 gently, taught to read and write, and diligently in 
 structed in the Bible, by the care of a faithful and pious 
 mistress; yet, would it not try the faith of the firmest 
 Christians to find themselves abandoned, apparently, of 
 God, in the grasp of ruthless violence 1 How much more 
 must it shake the faith of Christ s poor little ones, weak in 
 knowledge and tender in years. 
 
 The boat moved on, freighted with its weight of sor 
 row, up the red, muddy, turbid current, through the 
 abrupt, tortuous windings of the Red River; and sad eyes 
 gazed wearily on the steep red-clay banks, as they glided 
 by in dreary sameness. At last the boat stopped at a small 
 town, and Legree, with his party, disembarked. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 113 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 DARK PLACES 
 
 " The dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty." 
 
 TRAILING wearily behind a rude wagon, and over a 
 ruder road, Tom and his associates faced onward. 
 
 In the wagon was seated Simon Legree; and the two 
 women, still fettered together, were stowed away with 
 some baggage in the back part of it; and the whole com 
 pany were seeking Legree s plantation, which lay a good 
 distance off. 
 
 It was a wild, forsaken road, now winding through 
 dreary pine barrens, where the wind whispered mourn 
 fully, and now over log causeways, through long cypress 
 swamps, the doleful trees rising out of the slimy, spongy 
 ground, hung with long wreaths of funereal black moss, 
 while ever and anon the loathsome form of the moccasin 
 snake might be seen sliding among broken stumps and 
 shattered branches that lay here and there, rotting in the 
 water. 
 
 It is disconsolate enough, this riding, to the stranger, 
 who, with well-filled pocket and well-appointed horse, 
 threads the lonely way on some errand of business; but 
 wilder, drearier, to the man enthralled, whom every weary 
 step bears further from all that man loves and prays for. 
 
 So one should have thought, that witnessed the sunken 
 and dejected expression on those dark faces; the wistful, 
 patient weariness with which those sad eyes rested on ob 
 ject after object that passed them in their sad journey. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
114 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 Simon rode on, however, apparently well pleased, oc 
 casionally pulling away at a flask of spirit, which he kept 
 in his pocket. 
 
 "I say, you ! " he said, as he turned back and caught a 
 glance at the dispirited faces behind him. " Strike up a 
 song, boys, come ! " 
 
 The men looked at each other, and the " come " was re 
 peated, with a smart crack of the whip which the driver 
 carried in his hands. Tom began a Methodist hymn, 
 
 " Jerusalem, my happy home. 
 Name ever dear to me ! 
 When shall my sorrows have an end, 
 Thy joys when shall " 
 
 " Shut up, you black cuss ! " roared Legree ; " did ye 
 think I wanted any o yer infernal old Methodism 1 I say, 
 tune up, now, something real rowdy, quick ! " 
 
 One of the other men struck up one of those unmeaning 
 songs, common among the slaves. 
 
 " Mas r see d me cotch a coon, 
 
 High boys, high! 
 He laughed to split, d ye see the moon, 
 
 Ho! ho! ho! boys, ho! 
 Ho! yo! hi e! oh!" 
 
 The singer appeared to make up the song to his own 
 pleasure, generally hitting on rhyme, without much attempt 
 at reason; and all the party took up the chorus, at inter 
 vals, 
 
 "Ho! ho! ho! boys, ho! 
 High e oh! high e oh!" 
 
 It was sung very boisterously, and with a forced attempt 
 at merriment; but no wail of despair, no words of impas 
 sioned prayer, could have had such a depth of woe in them 
 as the wild notes of the chorus. As if the poor, dumb 
 heart, threatened, prisoned, took refuge in that inar 
 ticulate sanctuary of music, and found there a language in 
 which to breathe its prayer to God ! There was a prayer 
 in it, which Simon could not hear. He only heard the 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 115 
 
 boys singing noisily, and was well pleased; he was making 
 them "keep up their spirits." 
 
 "Well, my little dear," said he, turning to Emmeline, 
 and laying his hand on her shoulder, "we re almost 
 home ! " 
 
 When Legree scolded and stormed, Emmeline was ter 
 rified; but when he laid his hand on her, and spoke as he 
 now did, she felt as if she had rather he would strike her. 
 The expression of his eyes made her soul sick, and her 
 flesh creep. Involuntarily she clung closer to the mulatto 
 woman by her side, as if she were her mother. 
 
 "You didn t ever wear earrings?" he said, taking hold 
 of her small ear with his coarse ringers. 
 
 "No, Mas r!" said Emmeline, trembling and looking 
 down. 
 
 "Well, I ll give you a pair, when we get home, if 
 you re a good girl. You need n t be so frightened; I 
 don t mean to make you work very hard. You 11 have 
 fine times with me, and live like a lady, only be a good 
 girl." 
 
 Legree had been drinking to that degree that he was in 
 clining to be very gracious ; and it was about this time that 
 the inclosures of the plantation rose to view. The estate 
 had formerly belonged to a gentleman of opulence and 
 taste, who had bestowed some considerable attention to the 
 adornment of his grounds. Having died insolvent, it had 
 been purchased, at a bargain, by Legree, who used it, as 
 he did everything else, merely as an implement for money- 
 making. The place had that ragged, forlorn appearance, 
 which is always produced by the evidence that the care of 
 the former owner has been left to go to utter decay. 
 
 What was once a smooth-shaven lawn before the house, 
 dotted here and there with ornamental shrubs, was now 
 covered with frouzy tangled grass, with horse-posts set 
 up, here and there, in it, where the turf was stamped away, 
 
116 UNCLE TOM S CABIX; OR 
 
 and the ground littered with broken pails, cobs of corn, 
 and other slovenly remains. Here and there, a mildewed 
 jessamine or honeysuckle hung raggedly from some orna 
 mental support, which had been pushed to one side by be 
 ing used as a horse-post. What once was a large garden 
 was now all grown over with weeds, through which, here 
 and there, some solitary exotic reared its forsaken head. 
 What had been a conservatory had now no window-sashes, 
 and on the mouldering shelves stood some dry, forsaken 
 flower-pots with sticks in them, whose dried leaves showed 
 they had once been plants. 
 
 The wagon rolled up a weedy gravel walk, under a noble 
 avenue of China-trees, whose graceful forms and ever- 
 springing foliage seemed to be the only things there that 
 neglect could not daunt or alter, like noble spirits, so 
 deeply rooted in goodness, as to flourish and grow stronger 
 amid discouragement and decay. 
 
 The house had been large and handsome. It was built 
 in a manner common at the south; a wide veranda of two 
 stories running round every part of the house, into which 
 every outer door opened, the lower tier being supported by 
 brick pillars. 
 
 But the place looked desolate and uncomfortable ; some 
 windows stopped up with boards, some with shattered 
 panes, and shutters hanging by a single hinge, all telling 
 of coarse neglect and discomfort. 
 
 Bits of board, straw, old decayed barrels and boxes, 
 garnished the ground in all directions ; and three or four 
 ferocious-looking dogs, roused by the sound of the wagon- 
 wheels, came tearing out, and were with difficulty restrained 
 from laying hold of Tom and his companions, by the effort 
 of the ragged servants who came after them. 
 
 "Ye see what ye d get!" said Legree, caressing the 
 dogs with grim satisfaction, and turning to Tom and his 
 companions. "Ye see what ye d get, if ye try to run off. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 117 
 
 These yer dogs has been raised to track niggers; and 
 they d jest as soon chaw one on ye up as to eat their sup 
 per. So, mind yerself ! How now, Sambo ! " he said, to 
 a ragged fellow, without any brim to his hat, who was offi 
 cious in his attentions. "How have things been going? " 
 
 "Fust-rate, Mas r." 
 
 "Quimbo," said Legree to another, who was making 
 zealous demonstrations to attract his attention, u ye minded 
 what I telled ye ? " 
 
 "Guess I did, didn t I ? 
 
 These two colored men were the two principal hands on 
 the plantation. Legree had trained them in savageness 
 and brutality as systematically as he had his bulldogs; 
 and, by long practice in hardness and cruelty, brought their 
 whole nature to about the same range of capacities. It is 
 a common remark, and one that is thought to militate 
 strongly against the character of the race, that the negro 
 overseer is always more tyrannical and cruel than the white 
 one. This is simply saying that the negro mind has been 
 more crushed and debased than the white. It is no more 
 true of this race than of every oppressed race, the world 
 over. The slave is always a tyrant, if he can get a chance 
 to be one. 
 
 Legree, like some potentates we read of in history, gov 
 erned his plantation by a sort of resolution of forces. 
 Sambo and Quimbo cordially hated each other; the plan 
 tation hands, one and all, cordially hated them; and by 
 playing off one against another, he was pretty sure, through 
 one or the other of the three parties, to get informed of 
 whatever was on foot in the place. 
 
 Nobody can live entirely without social intercourse; and 
 Legree encouraged his two black satellites to a kind of 
 coarse familiarity with him, a familiarity, however, at 
 any moment liable to get one or the other of them into 
 trouble; for, on the slightest provocation, one of them 
 
118 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 always stood ready, at a nod, to be a minister of his ven 
 geance on the other. 
 
 As they stood there now by Legree, they seemed an apt 
 illustration of the fact that brutal men are lower even than 
 animals. Their coarse, dark, heavy features; their great 
 eyes, rolling enviously on each other; their barbarous, 
 guttural, half- brute intonation; their dilapidated garments 
 fluttering in the wind, were all in admirable keeping 
 with the vile and unwholesome character of everything 
 about the place. 
 
 "Here, you Sambo," said Legree, "take these yer boys 
 down to the quarters; and here s a gal I ve got for you^ 
 said he, as he separated the mulatto woman from Emme- 
 line, and pushed her towards him; "I promised to bring 
 you one, you know." 
 
 The woman gave a sudden start, and, drawing back, said 
 suddenly, 
 
 "Oh, Mas r! I left my old man in New Orleans." 
 
 "What of that, you -; won t you want one here 1 ? 
 None o yer words, go long!" said Legree, raising his 
 whip. 
 
 "Come, mistress," he said to Emmeline, "you go in 
 here with me." 
 
 A dark, wild face was seen, for a moment, to glance at 
 the window of the house; and as Legree opened the door, 
 a female voice said something, in a quick, imperative tone. 
 Tom, who was looking with anxious interest after Emme 
 line, as she went in, noticed this, and heard Legree answer 
 angrily, "You may hold your tongue! I 11 do as I please, 
 for all you ! " 
 
 Tom heard no more ; for he was soon following Sambo 
 to the quarters. The quarters was a little sort of street 
 of rude shanties, in a row, in a part of the plantation, far 
 off from the house. They had a forlorn, brutal, forsaken 
 air. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 119 
 
 Tom s heart sunk when he saw them. He had been 
 comforting himself with the thought of a cottage, rude, in 
 deed, hut one which he might make neat and quiet, and 
 where he might have a shelf for his Bible, and a place to 
 be alone out of his laboring hours. He looked into sev 
 eral; they were mere rude shells, destitute of any species 
 of furniture, except a heap of straw, foul with dirt, spread 
 confusedly over the floor, which was merely the bare 
 ground, trodden hard by the tramping of innumerable feet. 
 
 "Which of these will be mine 1 ?" said he to Sambo 
 submissively. 
 
 "Dunno; ken turn in here, I s pose," said Sambo; 
 "spects thar s room for another thar; thar s a pretty smart 
 heap o niggers to each on em, now; sure, I dunno what 
 I s to do with more." 
 
 It was late in the evening when the weary occupants of 
 the shanties came flocking home, men and women, in 
 soiled and tattered garments, surly and uncomfortable, and 
 in no mood to look pleasantly on newcomers. The small 
 village was alive with no inviting sounds; hoarse, guttural 
 voices contending at the handmills where their morsel of 
 hard corn was yet to be ground into meal, to fit it for the 
 cake that was to constitute their only supper. From the 
 earliest dawn of the day, they had been in the fields, 
 pressed to work under the driving lash of the overseers; 
 for it was now in the very heat and hurry of the season, 
 and no means was left untried to press every one up to the 
 top of their capabilities. "True," says the negligent 
 lounger; "picking cotton isn t hard work." Isn t it? 
 And it is n t much inconvenience, either, to have one drop 
 of water fall on your head; yet the worst torture of the 
 Inquisition is produced by drop after drop, drop after 
 drop, falling moment after moment, with monotonous suc 
 cession, on the same spot; and work, in itself not hard, 
 
120 UtfCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 becomes so, by being pressed, hour after hour, with un 
 varying, unrelenting sameness, with not even the con 
 sciousness of free-will to take from its tediousness. Tom 
 looked in vain among the gang,, as they poured along, for 
 companionable faces. He saw only sullen, scowling, im- 
 bruted men, and feeble, discouraged women, or women that 
 were not women, the strong pushing away the weak, 
 the gross, unrestricted animal selfishness of human beings, 
 of whom nothing good was expected and desired ; and who, 
 treated in every way like brutes, had sunk as nearly to 
 their level as it was possible for human beings to do. To 
 a late hour in the night the sound of the grinding was 
 protracted; for the mills were few in number compared 
 with the grinders, and the weary and feeble ones were 
 driven back by the strong, and came on last in their turn. 
 
 "Ho yo ! " said Sambo, coming to the mulatto woman, 
 and throwing down a bag of corn before her; "what a 
 cuss yo name? " 
 
 "Lucy," said the woman. 
 
 "Wai, Lucy, yo my woman now. Yo grind dis yer 
 corn, and get my supper baked, ye liar 1 " 
 
 "I ain t your woman, and I won t be! " said the woman, 
 with the sharp, sudden courage of despair; "you go 
 long!" 
 
 "I ll kick yo , then!" said Sambo, raising his foot 
 threateningly. 
 
 "Ye may kill me, if ye choose, the sooner the better! 
 Wish t I was dead! " said she. 
 
 "I say, Sambo, you go to spilin the hands, I ll tell 
 Mas r o you," said Quimbo, who was busy at the mill, 
 from which he had viciously driven two or three tired 
 women, who were waiting to grind their corn. 
 
 "And I 11 tell him ye won t let the women come to the 
 mills, yo old nigger!" said Sambo. " Yo jes keep to 
 yo own row." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 121 
 
 Tom was hungry with his day s journey, and almost 
 faint for want of food. 
 
 "Thar, yo ! " said Quimbo, throwing down a coarse bag, 
 which contained a peck of corn; "thar, nigger, grab, take 
 car on t, yo won t get no more, dis yer week." 
 
 Tom waited till a late hour, to get a place at the mills; 
 and then, moved by the utter weariness of two women, 
 whom he saw trying to grind their corn there, he ground 
 for them, put together the decaying brands of the fire 
 where many had baked cakes before them, and then went 
 about getting his own supper. It was a new kind of work 
 there, a deed of charity, small as it was ; but it woke an 
 answering touch in their hearts, an expression of wo 
 manly kindness came over their hard faces ; they mixed his 
 cake for him, and tended its baking; and Tom sat down 
 by the light of the fire, and drew out his Bible, for he 
 had need of comfort. 
 
 "What s that? " said one of the women. 
 
 "A Bible," said Tom. 
 
 "Good Lord! hain t seen un since I was in Kentuck." 
 
 "Was you raised in Kentuck?" said Tom, with inter 
 est. 
 
 "Yes, and well raised, too; never spected to come to dis 
 yer ! " said the woman, sighing. 
 
 "What sdat ar book, any way? "said the other woman. 
 
 "Why, the Bible." 
 
 "Laws a me! what s dat? " said the woman. 
 
 "Do tell! you never hearn on t?" said the other 
 woman. "I used to har Missis a-readin on t, sometimes, 
 in Kentuck; but, laws o me! we don t har nothin here 
 but crackin and swarin ." 
 
 "Eead a piece, anyways!" said the first woman curi 
 ously, seeing Tom attentively poring over it. 
 
 Tom read, " Come unto ME, all ye that labor and are 
 heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 
 
122 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 "Them s good words enough, - said the woman; "who 
 says em? " 
 
 "The Lord," said Tom. 
 
 "I jest wish I know d whar to find him," said the 
 woman. "I would go; pears like I never should get 
 rested agin. My flesh is fairly sore, and I tremble all 
 over, every day, and Sambo s allers a- j a win at me, cause 
 I doesn t pick faster; and nights it s most midnight fore 
 I can get my supper; and then pears like I don t turn 
 over and shut my eyes, fore I hear de horn blow to get 
 up, and at it agin in de mornin . If I knew whar de 
 Lord was, I d tell him." 
 
 "He s here, he s everywhere," said Tom. 
 
 "Lor, you ain t gwine to make me believe dat ar! I 
 know de Lord ain t here," said the woman; " t ain t no use 
 talking, though. I s jest gwine to camp down, and sleep 
 while I ken." 
 
 The women went off to their cabins, and Tom sat alone, 
 by the smouldering fire, that flickered up redly in his face. 
 
 The silver, fair- browed moon rose in the purple sky, and 
 looked down, calm and silent, as God looks on the scene of 
 misery and oppression, looked calmly on the lone black 
 man, as he sat, with his arms folded, and his Bible on his 
 knee. 
 
 "Is God HEBE 1 ?" Ah, how is it possible for the un 
 taught heart to keep its faith, unswerving, in the face of 
 dire misrule, and palpable, unrebuked injustice? In that 
 simple heart waged a fierce conflict: the crushing sense of 
 wrong, the foreshadowing of a whole life of future misery, 
 the wreck of all past hopes, mournfully tossing in the soul s 
 sight, like dead corpses of wife, and child, and friend, ris 
 ing from the dark wave, and surging in the face of the half- 
 drowned mariner ! Ah, was it easy here to believe and hold 
 fast the great password of Christian faith, "that God is, 
 and is the REWARDER of them that diligently seek him " 1 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 123 
 
 Tom rose, disconsolate, and stumbled into the cabin 
 that had been allotted to him. The floor was already 
 strewn with weary sleepers, and the foul air of the place 
 almost repelled him; but the heavy night-dews were chill, 
 and his limbs weary, and, wrapping about him a tattered 
 blanket, which formed his only bed-clothing, he stretched 
 himself in the straw and fell asleep. 
 
 In dreams, a gentle voice came over his ear; he was 
 sitting on the mossy seat in the garden by Lake Pontchar- 
 train, and Eva, with her serious eyes bent downward, was 
 reading to him from the Bible; and he heard her read, 
 
 "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with 
 thee, and the rivers they shall not overflow thee; when 
 thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, 
 neither shall the flame kindle upon thee ; for I am the Lord 
 thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." 
 
 Gradually the words seemed to melt and fade, as in a di 
 vine music; the child raised her deep eyes, and fixed them 
 lovingly on him, and rays of warmth and comfort seemed 
 to go from them to his heart; and, as if wafted on the 
 music, she seemed to rise on shining wings, from which 
 flakes and spangles of gold fell off like stars, and she was 
 gone. 
 
 Tom woke. Was it a dream? Let it pass for one. 
 But who shall say that that sweet young spirit, which in 
 life so yearned to comfort and console the distressed, was 
 forbidden of God to assume this ministry after death 1 
 
 " It is a beautiful belief, 
 
 That ever round our head 
 
 Are hovering, on angel wings, 
 
 The spirits of the dead." 
 
124 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 CASSY 
 
 " And behold, the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had no com 
 forter ; and on the side of their oppressors there was power, but they had 
 no comforter." Ecd. iv. 1. 
 
 IT took but a short time to familiarize Tom with all that 
 was to be hoped or feared in his new way of life. He was 
 an expert and efficient workman in whatever he undertook, 
 and was, both from habit and principle, prompt and faithful. 
 Quiet and peaceable in his disposition he hoped, by unremit 
 ting diligence, to avert from himself at least a portion of the 
 evils of his condition. He saw enough of abuse and misery 
 to make him sick and weary ; but he determined to toil on 
 with religious patience, committing himself to Him that 
 judgeth righteously, not without hope that some way of 
 escape might yet be opened to him. 
 
 Legree took silent note of Tom s availability. He rated 
 him as a first-class hand ; and yet he felt a secret dislike 
 to him, the native antipathy of bad to good. He saw 
 plainly that when, as was often the case, his violence and 
 brutality fell on the helpless, Tom took notice of it ; for so 
 subtle is the atmosphere of opinion that it will make itself 
 felt without words ; and the opinion even of a slave may 
 annoy a master. Tom in various ways manifested a tender 
 ness of feeling, a commiseration for his fellow sufferers, 
 strange and new to them, which was watched with a jealous 
 eye by Legree. He had purchased Tom with a view of 
 eventually making him a sort of overseer, with whom he 
 might at times intrust his affairs in short absences ; and, in 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 125 
 
 his view, the first, second, and third requisite for that place 
 was hardness. Legree made up his mind that, as Tom was 
 not hard to his hand, he would harden him forthwith ; and 
 some few weeks after Tom had been on the place, he deter 
 mined to commence the process. 
 
 One morning when the hands were mustered for the 
 field, Tom noticed with surprise a newcomer among them, 
 whose appearance excited his attention. It was a woman, 
 tall and slenderly formed, with remarkably delicate hands 
 and feet, and dressed in neat and respectable garments. By 
 the appearance of her face, she might have been between 
 thirty-five and forty ; and it was a face that once seen 
 could never be forgotten, one of those that, at a glance, seem 
 to convey to us an idea of a wild, painful, and romantic his 
 tory. Her forehead was high, and her eyebrows marked with 
 beautiful clearness. Her straight, well-formed nose, her 
 finely cut mouth, and the graceful contour of her head and 
 neck, showed that she must once have been beautiful ; but 
 her face was deeply wrinkled with lines of pain and of 
 proud and bitter endurance. Her complexion was sallow 
 and unhealthy, her cheeks thin, her features sharp, and her 
 whole form emaciated. But her eye was the most remark 
 able feature, so large, so heavily black, overshadowed by 
 long lashes of equal darkness, and so wildly, mournfully 
 despairing. There was a fierce pride and defiance in every 
 line of her face, in every curve of the flexible lip, in every 
 motion of her body ; but in her eye was a deep, settled 
 night of anguish, an expression so hopeless and unchan 
 ging as to contrast fearfully with the scorn and pride ex 
 pressed by her whole demeanor. 
 
 Where she came from, or who she was, Tom did not 
 know. The first he did know, she was walking by his side, 
 erect and proud, in the dim gray of the dawn. To the gang, 
 however, she was known ; for there was much looking and 
 turning of heads, and a smothered yet apparent exultation 
 
126 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 among the miserable, ragged, half-starved creatures by whom 
 she was surrounded. 
 
 " Got to come to it, at last, glad of it ! " said one. 
 
 " He ! he ! he ! " said another ; " you 11 know how good 
 it is, Misse ! " 
 
 " We 11 see her work ! " 
 
 " Wonder if she 11 get a cutting up at night, like the 
 rest of us ! " 
 
 " I d be glad to see her down for a flogging, I 11 
 bound ! " said another. 
 
 The woman took no notice of these taunts, but walked 
 on, with the same expression of angry scorn, as if she heard 
 nothing. Tom had always lived among refined and culti 
 vated people, and he felt intuitively, from her air and bear 
 ing, that she belonged to that class ; but how or why she 
 could be fallen to these degrading circumstances, he could 
 not tell. The woman neither looked at him nor spoke to him, 
 though, all the way to the field, she kept close at his side. 
 
 Tom was soon busy at his work ; but, as the woman was 
 at no great distance from him, he often glanced an eye to 
 her, at her work. He saw, at a glance, that a native adroit 
 ness and handiness made the task to her an easier one than 
 it proved to many. She picked very fast and very clean, 
 and with an air of scorn, as if she despised both the work 
 and the disgrace and humiliation of the circumstances in 
 which she was placed. 
 
 In the course of the day, Tom was working near the mu 
 latto woman who had been bought in the same lot with him 
 self. She was evidently in a condition of great suffering, 
 and Tom often heard her praying, as she wavered and trem 
 bled, and seemed about to fall down. Tom silently, as he 
 came near to her, transferred several handfuls of cotton from 
 his own sack to hers. 
 
 " Oh, don t, don t ! " said the woman, looking surprised ; 
 " it 11 get you into trouble." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 127 
 
 Just then Sambo came up. He seemed to have a special 
 spite against this woman ; and, flourishing his whip, said, in 
 brutal, guttural tones, " What dis yer, Luce, foolin a ? " 
 and, with the word, kicking the woman with his heavy 
 cowhide shoe, he struck Tom across the face with his 
 whip. 
 
 Tom silently resumed his task ; but the woman, before at 
 the last point of exhaustion, fainted. 
 
 " I 11 bring her to ! " said the driver, with a brutal grin. 
 " I 11 give her something better than camphire ! " and, tak 
 ing a pin from his coat-sleeve, he buried it to the head in 
 her flesh. The woman groaned, and half rose. " Get up, 
 you beast, and work, will yer, or I ll show yer a trick 
 more ! " 
 
 The woman seemed stimulated, for a few moments, to an 
 unnatural strength, and worked with desperate eagerness. 
 
 " See that you keep to dat ar," said the man, " or 
 yer 11 wish yer s dead to-night, I reckin ! " 
 
 " That I do now ! " Tom heard her say ; and again he 
 heard her say, " Lord, how long ! Lord, why don t 
 you help us ? " 
 
 At the risk of all that he might suffer, Tom came for 
 ward again, and put all the cotton in his sack into the 
 woman s. 
 
 " Oh, you must n t ! you dunno what they 11 do to ye ! " 
 said the woman. 
 
 " I can bar it ! " said Tom, " better n you ; " and he was 
 at his place again. It passed in a moment. 
 
 Suddenly, the stranger woman whom we have described, 
 and who had, in the course of her work, come near enough 
 to hear Tom s last words, raised her heavy black eyes, and 
 fixed them, for a second, on him ; then, taking a quantity 
 of cotton from her basket, she placed it in his. 
 
 " You know nothing about this place," she said, " or 
 you would n t have done that. When you ve been here a 
 
128 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 month, you 11 be done helping anybody ; you 11 find it 
 hard enough to take care of your own skin ! " 
 
 " The Lord forbid, Missis ! " said Tom, using instinc 
 tively to his field companion the respectful form proper to 
 the high-bred with whom he had lived. 
 
 " The Lord never visits these parts," said the woman 
 bitterly, as she went nimbly forward with her work ; and 
 again the scornful smile curled her lips. 
 
 But the action of the woman had been seen by the 
 driver, across the field ; and flourishing his whip, he came 
 up to her. 
 
 " What ! what ! " he said to the woman, with an air of 
 triumph, " you a-foolin ? Go along! yer under me now, 
 mind yourself, or yer 11 cotch it ! " 
 
 A glance like sheet lightning suddenly flashed from those 
 black eyes ; and, facing about, with quivering lip and 
 dilated nostrils, she drew herself up, and fixed a glance, 
 blazing with rage and scorn, on the driver. 
 
 " Dog ! " she said, " touch me, if you dare ! I ve power 
 enough, yet, to have you torn by the dogs, burnt alive, cut 
 to inches ! I ve only to say the word ! " 
 
 " What de devil you here for, den ! " said the man, evi 
 dently cowed, and sullenly retreating a step or two. 
 " Did n t mean no harm, Misse Cassy ! " 
 
 " Keep your distance, then ! " said the woman. And, 
 in truth, the man seemed greatly inclined to attend to 
 something at the other end of the field, and started off in 
 quick time. 
 
 The woman suddenly turned to her work, and labored 
 with a dispatch that was perfectly astonishing to Tom. 
 She seemed to work by magic. Before the day was 
 through, her basket was filled, crowded down, and piled, 
 and she had several times put largely into Tom s. Long 
 after dusk, the whole weary train, with their baskets on 
 their heads, defiled up to the building appropriated to the 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 129 
 
 storing and weighing the cotton. Legree was there, busily 
 conversing with the two drivers. 
 
 " Dat ar Tom s gwine to make a powerful deal o trouble ; 
 kept a-puttin into Lucy s basket. One o these yer dat 
 will get all der niggers to feelin ? bused, if Mas r don t 
 watch him ! " said Sambo. 
 
 "Heydey! The black cuss!" said Legree. " He 11 
 have to get a breakin in, won t he, boys ? " 
 
 Both negroes grinned a horrid grin at this intimation. 
 
 " Ay, ay ! let Mas r Legree alone, for breakin in ! De 
 debil heself could n t beat Mas r at dat ! " said Quimbo. 
 
 " Wai, boys, the best way is to give him the flogging to 
 do, till he gets over his notions. Break him in ! " 
 
 " Lord ! Mas r 11 have hard work to get dat out o 
 him ! " 
 
 "It ll have to come out of him, though ! " said Legree, 
 as he rolled his tobacco in his mouth. 
 
 " Now, dar ? s Lucy, de aggravatinest, ugliest wench 
 on de place ! " pursued Sambo. 
 
 " Take care, Sam ; I shall begin to think what s the 
 reason for your spite agin Lucy." 
 
 " Well, Mas r knows she sot herself up agin Mas r, and 
 wouldn t have me, when he telled her to." 
 
 " I d a flogged her into t," said Legree, spitting, " only 
 there s such a press o work it don t seem wuth a while to 
 upset her jist now. She s slender ; but these yer slender 
 gals will bear half killin to get their own way ! " 
 
 " Wai, Lucy was real aggravatin and lazy, sulkin 
 round ; would n t do nothin , and Tom he tuck up for 
 her." 
 
 " He did, eh ! Wai, then, Tom shall have the pleasure 
 of flogging her. It 11 be a good practice for him, and he 
 won t put it on to the gal like you devils, neither." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! haw ! haw ! haw ! " laughed both the sooty 
 wretches ; and the diabolical sounds seemed, in truth, a 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
130 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 not unapt expression of the fiendish character which Legree 
 
 gave them. 
 
 " Wai, but, Mas r, Tom and Misse Gassy, and dey among 
 
 em, filled Lucy s basket. I ruther guess der weight s in 
 
 it, Mas r ! 
 
 " / do the weighing ! " said Legree emphatically. 
 Both the drivers laughed again their diabolical laugh. 
 " So ! " he added ; " Misse Cassy did her day s work." 
 " She picks like de debil and all his angels ! " 
 " She s got em all in her, I believe ! " said Legree ; and 
 
 growling a brutal oath, ho proceeded to the weighing-room. 
 
 Slowly the weary, dispirited creatures wound their way 
 into the room, and, with crouching reluctance, presented 
 their baskets to be weighed. 
 
 Legree noted on a slate, on the side of which was pasted 
 a list of names, the amount. 
 
 Tom s basket was weighed and approved ; and he looked, 
 with an anxious glance, for the success of the woman he 
 had befriended. 
 
 Tottering with weakness, she came forward, and deliv 
 ered her basket. It was of full weight, as Legree well per 
 ceived ; but, affecting anger, he said, 
 
 " What, you lazy beast ! short again ! stand aside, you 11 
 catch it, pretty soon ! " 
 
 The woman gave a groan of utter despair, and sat down 
 on a board. 
 
 The person who had been called Misse Cassy now came 
 forward, and, with a haughty, negligent air, delivered her 
 basket. As she delivered it, Legree looked in her eyes 
 with a sneering yet inquiring glance. 
 
 She fixed her black eyes steadily on him, her lips moved 
 slightly, and she said something in French. What it was, 
 no one knew ; but Legree s face became perfectly demoniacal 
 in its expression as she spoke ; he half raised his hand as 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 131 
 
 if to strike, a gesture which she regarded with fierce dis 
 dain, as she turned and walked away. 
 
 " And now," said Legree, " come here, you Tom. You 
 see, I telled ye I did n t buy ye jest for the common work ; 
 I mean to promote ye, and make a driver of ye ; and to 
 night ye may jest as well begin to get yer hand in. Now, 
 ye jest take this yer gal and flog her ; ye ve seen enough 
 on t to know how." 
 
 " I beg Mas r s pardon," said Tom ; " hopes Mas r won t 
 set me at that. It s what I ain t used to, never did, 
 and can t do, noway possible." 
 
 "Ye 11 larn a pretty smart chance of things ye never did 
 know before I ? ve done with ye ! " said Legree, taking up 
 a cowhide, and striking Tom a heavy blow across the cheek, 
 and following up the infliction by a shower of blows. 
 
 " There ! " he said, as he stopped to rest ; " now will ye 
 tell me ye can t do it ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mas r," said Tom, putting up his hand, to wipe 
 the blood that trickled down his face. " I m willin to 
 work night and day, and work while there s life and breath 
 in me ; but this yer thing I can t feel it right to do ; and, 
 Mas r, I never shall do it, never ! " 
 
 Tom had a remarkably smooth, soft voice, and a habitu 
 ally respectful manner, that had given Legree an idea that 
 he would be cowardly, and easily subdued. When he spoke 
 these last words, a thrill of amazement went through every 
 one ; the poor woman clasped her hands, and said, " 
 Lord ! " and every one involuntarily looked at each other, 
 and drew in their breath, as if to prepare for the storm that 
 was about to burst. 
 
 Legree looked stupefied and confounded ; but at last burst 
 forth, 
 
 " What ! ye blasted black beast ! tell me ye don t think 
 it right to do what I tell ye ! What have any of you cussed 
 cattle to do with thinking what s right ? I 11 put a stop 
 
132 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 to it ! Why, what do ye think ye are ? Maybe ye think 
 ye re a gentleman, master Tom, to be a-telling your master 
 what s right and what ain t ! So you pretend it s wrong 
 to flog the gal ! " 
 
 " I think so, Mas r," said Tom ; " the poor crittur s sick 
 and feeble ; t would be downright cruel, and it s what I 
 never will do, nor begin to. Mas r, if you mean to kill me, 
 kill me ; but, as to my raising my hand agin any one here, 
 I never shall, I 11 die first ! " 
 
 Tom spoke in a mild voice, but with a decision that could 
 not be mistaken. Legree shook with anger; his greenish 
 eyes glared fiercely, and his very whiskers seemed to curl 
 with passion ; but, like some ferocious beast, that plays with 
 its victim before he devours it, he kept back his strong 
 impulse to proceed to immediate violence, and broke out 
 into bitter raillery. 
 
 "Well, here s a pious dog, at last, let down among us 
 sinners ! a saint, a gentleman, and no less, to talk to us 
 sinners about our sins ! Powerful holy crittur, he must be ! 
 Here, you rascal, you make believe to be so pious, did n t 
 you never hear out of yer Bible, Servants, obey yer mas 
 ters ? Ain t I yer master ? Did n t I pay down twelve 
 hundred dollars, cash, for all there is inside yer old cussed 
 black shell ? Ain t yer mine, now, body and soul ? " he 
 said, giving Tom a violent kick with his heavy boot ; " tell 
 me!" 
 
 In the very depth of physical suffering, bowed by brutal 
 oppression, this question shot a gleam of joy and triumph 
 through Tom s soul. He suddenly stretched himself up, 
 and, looking earnestly to heaven, while the tears and blood 
 that flowed down his face mingled, he exclaimed, 
 
 " No ! no ! no ! my soul ain t yours, Mas r ! You 
 have n t brought it, ye can t buy it ! It s been bought 
 and paid for, by one that is able to keep it. No matter, 
 no matter, you can t harm me ! " 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 133 
 
 " I can t ! " said Legree, with a sneer ; "we 11 see, 
 we 11 see ! Here, Sambo, Quimbo, give this dog such a 
 breakin in as he won t get over this month ! " 
 
 The two gigantic negroes that now laid hold of Tom, 
 with fiendish exultation in their faces, might have formed no 
 unapt personification of the powers of darkness. The poor 
 woman screamed with apprehension, and all rose, as by a 
 general impulse, while they dragged him unresisting from 
 the place. 
 
134 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE QUADROON S STORY 
 
 " And, behold, the tears of such as arc oppressed ; and on the side of 
 their oppressors there was power. Wherefore I praised the dead that are 
 already dead more than the living that are yet alive." Eccl. iv. 1 
 
 IT was late at night, and Tom lay groaning and bleeding 
 alone, in an old forsaken room of the gin-house, among 
 pieces of broken machinery, piles of damaged cotton, and 
 other rubbish "which, had there accumulated. 
 
 The night was damp and close, and the thick air 
 swarmed with myriads of mosquitoes, which increased the 
 restless torture of his wounds ; whilst a burning thirst a 
 torture beyond all others filled up the uttermost mea 
 sure of physical anguish. 
 
 " good Lord ! Do look down, give me the vic 
 tory ! give me the victory over all! " prayed poor Tom, 
 in his anguish. 
 
 A footstep entered the room behind him, and the light 
 of a lantern flashed on his eyes. 
 
 " Who s there ? Oh, for the Lord s massy, please give 
 me some water ! " 
 
 The woman Gassy for it was she set down her lan 
 tern, and, pouring water from a bottle, raised his head, and 
 gave him drink. Another and another cup were drained, 
 with feverish eagerness. * 
 
 " Drink all ye want," she said ; " I knew how it would 
 be. It is n t the first time I ve been out in the night, 
 carrying water to such as you." 
 
 u Thank you, Missis," said Tom, when he had done 
 drinking. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 135 
 
 " Don t call me Missis ! I m a miserable slave, like your 
 self, a lower one than you can ever be ! " said she 
 bitterly ; " but now," said she, going to the door, and 
 dragging in a small paillasse, over which she had spread 
 linen cloths wet with cold water, " try, my poor fellow, to 
 roll yourself on to this." 
 
 Stiff with wounds and bruises, Tom was a long time in 
 accomplishing this movement ; but, when done, he felt a 
 sensible relief from the cooling application to his wounds. 
 
 The woman, whom long practice with the victims of 
 brutality had made familiar with many healing arts, went 
 on to make many applications to Tom s wounds, by means 
 of which he was soon somewhat relieved. 
 
 " !Now," said the woman, when she had raised his head 
 on a roll of damaged cotton, which served for a pillow, 
 " there s the best I can do for you." 
 
 Tom thanked her ; and the woman, sitting down on the 
 floor, drew up her knees, and, embracing them with her 
 arms, looked fixedly before her, with a bitter and painful 
 expression of countenance. Her bonnet fell back, and long 
 wavy streams of black hair fell around her singular and 
 melancholy face. 
 
 " It s no use, my poor fellow ! " she broke out at last ; 
 " it s of no use, this you ve been trying to do. You were 
 a brave fellow, you had the right on your side ; but it s 
 all in vain, and out of the question, for you to struggle. 
 You are in the devil s hands. He is the strongest, and you 
 must give up ! " 
 
 Give up ! and had not human weakness and physical 
 agony whispered that before ? Tom started ; for the bitter 
 woman, with her wild eyes and melancholy voice, seemed- 
 to him an embodiment of the temptation with which he 
 had been wrestling. 
 
 " Lord ! O Lord ! " he groaned ; " how can I give 
 up?" 
 
136 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " There s no use calling on the Lord, he never hears/ 
 said the woman steadily ; " there is n t any God, I believe ; 
 or, if there is, he s taken sides against us. All goes against 
 us, heaven and earth. Everything is pushing us into hell. 
 Why should n t we go ? " 
 
 Tom closed his eyes, and shuddered at the dark atheistic 
 words. 
 
 " You see," said the woman, " you don t know anything 
 about it ; I do. I ve been on this place five years, body 
 and soul, under this man s foot ; and I hate him as I do the 
 devil ! Here you are, on a lone plantation, ten miles from 
 any other, in the swamps ; not a white person here, who 
 could testify, if you were burned alive, if you were scalded, 
 cut into inch pieces, set up for the dogs to tear, or hung up 
 and whipped to death. There s no law here, of God or man, 
 that can do you, or any one of us, the least good ; and, this 
 man ! there s no earthly thing that he s too good to do. I 
 could make any one s hair rise, and their teeth chatter, if I 
 should only tell what I ve seen and been knowing to here, 
 and it s no use resisting ! Did I want to live with him ? 
 Was n t I a woman delicately bred ; and he God in heaven ! 
 what was he, and is he ? And yet I ve lived with him 
 these five years, and cursed every moment of my life, 
 night and day ! And now, he s got a new one, a young 
 thing, only fifteen, and she brought up, she says, piously. 
 Her good mistress taught her to read the Bible ; and she s 
 brought her Bible here to hell with her ! " and the wo 
 man laughed a wild and doleful laugh, that rung, with a 
 strange, supernatural sound, through the old ruined shed. 
 
 Tom folded his hands ; all was darkness and horror. 
 
 " Jesus ! Lord Jesus ! have you quite forgot us poor 
 critturs ? " burst forth, at last. " Help, Lord, I perish ! " 
 
 The woman sternly continued : 
 
 " And what are these miserable low dogs you work with, 
 that you should suffer on their account ? Every one of them 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 137 
 
 would turn against you the first time they got a chance. 
 They are all of em as low and cruel to each other as they 
 can be ; there s no use in your suffering to keep from hurt 
 ing them." 
 
 " Poor critturs ! " said Tom, " what made em cruel ? 
 and, if I give out, I shall get used to t, and grow, little 
 by little, just like em ! No, no, Missis ! I ve lost every 
 thing, wife, and children, and home, and a kind Mas r, 
 and he would have set me free, if he d only lived a week 
 longer ; I ve lost everything in this world, and it s clean 
 gone, forever, and now I can t lose heaven, too ; no, I 
 can t get to be wicked, besides all ! " 
 
 " But it can t be that the Lord will lay sin to our ac 
 count," said the woman j " he won t charge it to us, when 
 we re forced to it ; he 11 charge it to them that drove us 
 to it." 
 
 " Yes," said Tom ; " but that won t keep us from growing 
 wicked. If I get to be as hard-hearted as that ar Sambo, 
 and as wicked, it won t make much odds to me how I come 
 so ; it s the bein so, that ar s what I 111 a-dreadin ." 
 
 The woman fixed a wild and startled look on Tom, as if 
 a new thought had struck her ; and then heavily groaning, 
 said, 
 
 " God a mercy ! you speak the truth ! Oh ! Oh ! 
 Oh ! " and, with groans, she fell on the floor, like one 
 crushed and writhing under the extremity of mental anguish. 
 
 There was a silence awhile, in which the breathing of 
 both parties could be heard, when Tom faintly said, " Oh, 
 please, Missis ! " 
 
 The woman suddenly rose up, with her face composed to 
 its usual stern, melancholy expression. 
 
 " Please, Missis, I saw em throw my coat in that ar 
 corner, and in my coat-pocket is my Bible ; if Missis 
 would please get it for me." 
 
 Gassy went and got it. Torn opened at once to a heavily 
 
138 UNCLE TOM S CABIN : OR 
 
 marked passage, much worn, of the last scenes in the life of 
 Him by whose stripes we are healed. 
 
 " If Missis would only be so good as read that ar, it s 
 better than water." 
 
 Gassy took the book, with a dry, proud air, and looked 
 over the passage. She then read aloud, in a soft voice, and 
 with a beauty of intonation that was peculiar, that touching 
 account of anguish and of glory. Often, as she read, her 
 voice faltered, and sometimes failed her altogether, when she 
 would stop, with an air of frigid composure, till she had 
 mastered herself. When she came to the touching words, 
 " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do," 
 she threw down the book, and burying her face in the heavy 
 masses of her hair, she sobbed aloud, with a convulsive vio 
 lence. 
 
 Tom was weeping, also, and occasionally uttering a smoth 
 ered ejaculation. 
 
 " If we only could keep up to that ar ! " said Tom ; 
 " it seemed to come so natural to him, and we have to fight 
 so hard for t ! Lord, help us ! blessed Lord Jesus, 
 do help us ! " 
 
 " Missis," said Tom, after a while, " I can see that some 
 how you re quite bove me in everything ; but there s one 
 thing Missis might learn even from poor Tom. Ye said the 
 Lord took sides against us, because he lets us be bused 
 and knocked round ; but ye see what come on his own Son, 
 
 the blessed Lord of Glory, warn t he allays poor ? and 
 have we, any on us, yet come so low as he come ? The 
 Lord hain t forgot us, I m sartin o that ar. If we suffer 
 with him, we shall also reign, Scripture says ; but, if we 
 deny him, he also will deny us. Did n t they all suffer ? 
 
 the Lord and all his ? It tells how they was stoned and 
 sawn asunder, and wandered about in sheepskins and goat 
 skins, and was destitute, afflicted, tormented. Sufferin ain t 
 no reason to make us think the Lord s turned agin us ; but 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 139 
 
 jest the contrary, if only we hold on to him, and does n t give 
 up to sin." 
 
 " But why does he put us where we can t help but sin ? " 
 said the woman. 
 
 " I think we can help it," said Tom. 
 
 "You ll see, 7 said Gassy. "What 11 you do? To 
 morrow they 11 be at you again. I know em ; I ? ve seen 
 all their doings ; I can t bear to think of all they 11 bring 
 you to ; and they 11 make you give out at last ! " 
 
 " Lord Jesus ! " said Tom, " you will take care of my 
 soul ? Lord, do ! don t let me give out ! " 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " said Cassy ; " I ve heard all this crying 
 and praying before ; and yet they ve been broken down, 
 and brought under. There s Emmeline, she s trying to 
 hold on, and you re trying, but what use ? You must 
 give up or be killed by inches." 
 
 " Well, then, I will die ! " said Tom. " Spin it out as 
 long as they can, they can t help my dying, some time ! 
 and, after that, they can t do no more. I m clar, I m set ! 
 I know the Lord 11 help me, and bring me through." 
 
 The woman did not answer ; she sat with her black eyes 
 intently fixed on the floor. 
 
 " Maybe it s the way," she murmured to herself ; " but 
 those that have given up, there s no hope for them ! 
 none ! We live in filth, and grow loathsome, till we loathe 
 ourselves ! And we long to die, and we don t dare to kill 
 ourselves ! No hope ! no hope ! no hope ! this girl 
 now, just as old as I was ! " 
 
 " You see me IIOW T ," she said, speaking to Tom very 
 rapidly ; " see what I am ! Well, I was brought up in 
 luxury ; the first I remember is playing about, when I was 
 a child, in splendid parlors ; when I was kept dressed up 
 like a doll, and company and visitors used to praise me. 
 There was a garden opening from the saloon windows ; and 
 there I used to play hide-and-go-seek under the orange-trees 
 
140 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 with my brothers and sisters. I went to a convent, and 
 there I learned music, French, and embroidery, and what 
 not ; and when I was fourteen I came out to my father s 
 funeral. He died very suddenly, and when the property 
 came to be settled, they found that there was scarcely 
 enough to cover the debts ; and when the creditors took an 
 inventory of the property, I was set down in it. My mother 
 was a slave woman, and my father had always meant to set 
 me free ; but he had not done it, and so I was set down in 
 the list. I ? d always known who I was, but never thought 
 much about it. Nobody ever expects that a strong, healthy 
 man is a-going to die. My father was a well man only four 
 hours before he died ; it was one of the first cholera cases 
 in New Orleans. The day after the funeral, my father s 
 wife took her children and went up to her father s plantation. 
 I thought they treated me strangely, but did n t know. 
 There was a young lawyer whom they left to settle the 
 business ; and he came every day and was about the house, 
 and spoke very politely to me. He brought with him one 
 day a young man whom I thought the handsomest I had 
 ever seen. I shall never forget that evening. I walked 
 with him in the garden. I was lonesome and full of sorrow, 
 and he was so kind and gentle to me ; and he told me that 
 he had seen me before I went to the convent, and that he 
 had loved me a great while, and that he would be my friend 
 and protector ; in short, though he did n t tell me, he had 
 paid two thousand dollars for me, and I was his property. 
 I became his willingly, for I loved him. Loved ! " said 
 the woman stopping, " oh, how I did love that man ! 
 How I love him now, and always shall while I breathe ! 
 He was so beautiful, so high, so noble ! He put me into 
 a beautiful house with servants, horses, and carriages, and 
 furniture, and dresses. Everything that money could buy 
 he gave me ; but I did n t set any value on all that, I only 
 cared for him. I loved him better than my God and my 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 141 
 
 own soul ; and if I tried, I could n t do any other way 
 from what he wanted me to. 
 
 " I wanted only one thing, I did want him to marry 
 me. I thought if he loved me as he said he did, and if I 
 was what he seemed to think I was, he would be willing 
 to marry me and set me free. But he convinced me that 
 it would be impossible ; and he told me that, if we were 
 only faithful to each other, it was marriage before God. If 
 that is true, was n t I that man s wife ? Wasn t I faith 
 ful ? For seven years did n t I study every look and mo 
 tion, and only live and breathe to please him ? He had 
 the yellow fever, and for twenty days and nights I watched 
 with him. I alone, and gave him all his medicine, and 
 did everything for him 5 and then he called me his good 
 angel, and said I d saved his life. We had two beautiful 
 children. The first was a boy, and we called him Henry. 
 He was the image of his father, he had such beautiful 
 eyes, such a forehead, and his hair hung all in curls around 
 it ; and he had all his father s spirit, and his talent, too. 
 Little Elise, he said, looked like me. He used to tell me 
 that I was the most beautiful woman in Louisiana, he was 
 so proud of me and the children. He used to love to have 
 me dress them up, and take them and me about in an open 
 carriage, and hear the remarks that people would make on 
 us ; and he used to fill my ears constantly with the fine 
 things that were said in praise of me and the children. Oh, 
 those were happy days ! I thought I was as happy as any 
 one could be ; but then there came evil times. He had a 
 cousin come to New Orleans, who was his particular friend, 
 he thought all the world of him ; but, from the first 
 time I saw him, I could n t tell why, I dreaded him ; for 
 I felt sure he was going to bring misery on us. He got 
 Henry to going out with him, and often he would not come 
 home nights till two or three o clock. I did not dare say 
 a word ; for Henry was so high-spirited I was afraid to. 
 
142 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 He got him to the gaming-houses ; and he was one of the 
 sort that, when he once got a-going there, there was no hold 
 ing back. And then he introduced him to another lady, 
 and I saw soon that his heart was gone from me. He never 
 told me, hut I saw it, I knew it, day after day, I felt 
 my heart breaking, but I could not say a word ! At this, 
 the wretch offered to buy me and the children of Henry, to 
 clear off his gambling debts, which stood in the way of his 
 marrying as he wished ; and he sold us. He told me, 
 one day, that he had business in the country, and should 
 be gone two or three weeks. He spoke kinder than usual, 
 and said he should come back ; but it did n t deceive me. 
 I knew that the time had come. I was just like one turned 
 into stone ; I could n t speak, nor shed a tear. He kissed 
 me and kissed the children, a good many times, and went 
 out. I saw him get on his horse, and I watched him till 
 he was quite out of sight ; and then I fell down, and 
 fainted. 
 
 "Then he came, the cursed wretch! he came to take 
 possession. He told me that he had bought me and my 
 children ; and showed me the papers. I cursed him before 
 God, and told him I d die sooner than live with him. 
 
 " ( Just as you please, said he ; but if you don t 
 behave reasonably, I 11 sell both the children, where you 
 shall never see them again. He told me that he always 
 had meant to have me, from the first time he saw me ; and 
 that he had drawn Henry on, and got him in debt, on pur 
 pose to make him willing to sell me. That he got him in 
 love with another woman ; and that I might know, after 
 all that, that he should not give up for a few airs and tears, 
 and things of that sort. 
 
 " I gave up, for my hands were tied. He had my chil 
 dren j whenever I resisted his will anywhere, he would 
 talk about selling them, and he made me as submissive as 
 he desired. Oh, what a life it was ! to live with my heart 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 143 
 
 breaking every day, to keep on, on, on, loving, when it 
 was only misery ; and to be bound, body and soul, to one 
 I hated. I used to love to read to Henry, to play to him, 
 to waltz with him, and sing to him ; but everything I did 
 for this one was a perfect drag, yet I was afraid to refuse 
 anything. He was very imperious, and harsh to the children. 
 Elise was a timid little thing ; but Henry was bold and high- 
 spirited, like his father, and he had never been brought 
 under, in the least, by any one. He was always finding fault, 
 and quarreling with him ; arid I used to live in daily fear 
 and dread. I tried to make the child respectful ; I tried to 
 keep them apart, for I held on to those children like death ; 
 but it did no good. He sold both those children. He took 
 me to ride one day, and when I came home they were 
 nowhere to be found ! He told me he had sold them ; he 
 showed me the money, the price of their blood. Then it 
 seemed as if all good forsook me. I raved and cursed, 
 cursed God and man ; and for a while, I believe, he really 
 was afraid of me. But he did n t give up so. He told me 
 that my children were sold, but whether I ever saw their 
 faces again depended on him ; and that, if I was n t quiet, 
 they should smart for it. Well, you can do anything with a 
 woman when you ve got her children. He made me submit ; 
 he made me be peaceable ; he nattered me with hopes that 
 perhaps he would buy them back ; and so things went on, a 
 week or two. One day, I was out walking, and passed by 
 the calaboose ; -I saw a crowd about the gate, and heard a 
 child s voice, and suddenly my Henry broke away from 
 two or three men who were holding him, and ran, screaming, 
 and caught my dress. They came up to him, swearing dread 
 fully ; and one man, whose face I shall never forget, told 
 him that he would n t get away so ; that he was going with 
 him into the calaboose, and he d get a lesson there he 7 d 
 never forget. I tried to beg and plead, they only laughed ; 
 the poor boy screamed and looked into my face and held on 
 
144 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 to me, until, in tearing him off, they tore the skirt of my 
 dress half away ; and they carried him in, screaming Mo 
 ther ! mother ! mother ! There was one man stood there 
 seemed to pity me. I offered him all the money I had if 
 he d only interfere. He shook his head, and said that the 
 man said the boy had been impudent and disobedient ever 
 since he bought him ; that he was going to break him in, 
 once for all. I turned and ran ; and every step of the way 
 I thought that I heard him scream. I got into the house ; 
 ran, all out of breath, to the parlor, where I found Butler. 
 I told him, and begged him to go and interfere. He only 
 laughed, and told me the boy had got his deserts. He d 
 got to be broken in, the sooner the better ; what did I 
 expect ? he asked. 
 
 " It seemed to me something in my head snapped at that 
 moment. I felt dizzy and furious. I remember seeing a 
 great sharp bowie-knife on the table ; I remember something 
 about catching it, and flying upon him ; and then all grew 
 dark, and I didn t know any more not for days and 
 days. 
 
 " When I came to myself, I was in a nice room, but 
 not mine. An old black woman tended me ; and a doctor 
 came to see me, and there was a great deal of care taken of 
 me. After a while, I found that he had gone away, and 
 left me at this house to be sold ; and that 7 s why they took 
 such pains with me. 
 
 " I did n t mean to get well, and hoped I should n t ; 
 but, in spite of me, the fever went off, and I grew healthy, 
 and finally got up. Then, they made me dress up every 
 day ; and gentlemen used to come in and stand and smoke 
 their cigars, and look at me, and ask questions, and debate 
 my price. I was so gloomy and silent that none of them 
 wanted me. They threatened to whip me, if I was n t gayer, 
 and did n t take some pains to make myself agreeable. At 
 length, one day, came a gentleman named Stuart. He 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 145 
 
 seemed to have some feeling for me ; he saw that something 
 dreadful was on my heart, and he came to see me alone a 
 great many times, and finally persuaded me to tell him. 
 He bought me at last, and promised to do all he could to find 
 and buy back my children. He went to the hotel where my 
 Henry was ; they told him he had been sold to a planter up 
 on Pearl River ; that was the last that I ever heard. Then 
 he found where my daughter was ; an old woman was keep 
 ing her. He offered an immense sum for her, but they 
 would not sell her. Butler found out that it was for me 
 he wanted her ; and he sent me word that I should never 
 have her. Captain Stuart was very kind to me ; he had 
 a splendid plantation, and took me to it. In the course 
 of a year, I had a son born. Oh, that child ! how I loved 
 it ! How just like my poor Henry the little thing looked ! 
 But I had made up my mind, yes, I had. I would never 
 again let a child live to grow up ! I took the little fellow 
 in my arms, when he was two week sold, and kissed him, 
 and cried over him ; and then I gave him laudanum, and 
 held him close to my bosom, while he slept to death. How 
 I mourned and cried over it ! and who ever dreamed that it 
 was anything but a mistake, that had made me give it the 
 laudanum ? but it s one of the few things that I m glad 
 of now. I am not sorry to this day ; he, at least, is out of 
 pain. What better than death could I give him, poor 
 child ! After a while, the cholera came, and Captain Stuart 
 died ; everybody died that wanted to live, and I, I, 
 though I went down to death s door, / lived ! Then I 
 was sold, and passed from hand to hand, till I grew faded 
 and wrinkled, and I had a fever : and then this wretch 
 bought me, and brought me here, and here I am ! " 
 
 The woman stopped. She had hurried on through her 
 story, with a wild, passionate utterance ; sometimes seem 
 ing to address it to Tom, and sometimes speaking as in a 
 soliloquy. So vehement and overpowering was the force 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
146 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; on 
 
 with which she spoke that, for a season, Tom was beguiled 
 even from the pain of his wounds, and, raising himself on 
 one elbow, watched her as she paced restlessly up and down, 
 her long black hair swaying heavily about her as she moved. 
 " You tell me," she said, after a pause, " that there is a 
 God, a God that looks down and sees all these things. 
 Maybe it s so. The sisters in the convent used to tell me 
 of a day of judgment, when everything is coming to light ; 
 
 won t there be vengeance then ! 
 
 "They think it s nothing, what we suffer, nothing, 
 what our children suffer ! It s all a small matter ; yet 
 I ve walked the streets when it seemed as if I had misery 
 enough in my one heart to sink the city. I ve wished the 
 houses would fall on me, or the stones sink under me. Yes ! 
 and, in the judgment day, I will stand up before God, a 
 witness against those that have ruined me and my children, 
 body and soul ! 
 
 " When I was a girl, I thought I was religious ; I used 
 to love God and prayer. Now I m a lost soul, pursued by 
 devils that torment me day and night ; they keep pushing 
 me on and on, and 1 11 do it, too, some of these days ! " 
 she said, clenching her hand, while an insane light glanced 
 in her heavy black eyes. " I ll send him where he belongs, 
 
 a short way, too, one of these nights, if they burn me 
 alive for it ! " A wild, loud laugh rang through the de 
 serted room, and ended in a hysteric sob ; she threw herself 
 on the floor, in convulsive sobbings and struggles. 
 
 In a few moments, the frenzy fit seemed to pass off ; she 
 rose slowly, and seemed to collect herself. 
 
 "Can I do anything more for you, my poor fellow ? she 
 said, approaching where Tom lay ; " shall I give you some 
 more water ? " 
 
 There was a graceful and compassionate sweetness in her 
 voice and manner as she said this, that formed a strange 
 contrast with the former wildness. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 147 
 
 Tom drank the water, and looked earnestly and pitifully 
 into her face. 
 
 " Oh, Missis, I wish you d go to Him that can give you 
 living waters ! " 
 
 " Go to him ! Where is he ? Who is he ? " said Gassy. 
 
 "Him that you read of to me, the Lord." 
 
 " I used to see the picture of him over the altar, when 
 I was a girl," said Gassy, her dark eyes fixing themselves 
 in an expression of mournful reverie ; " but he is n t here ! 
 there s nothing here but sin and long, long, long despair ! 
 Oh ! " She laid her hand on her breast and drew in her 
 breath, as if to lift a heavy weight. 
 
 Tom looked as if he would speak again ; but she cut him 
 short, with a decided gesture. 
 
 " Don t talk, my poor fellow. Try to sleep if you can." 
 And, placing water in his reach, and making whatever little 
 arrangements for his comfort she could, Gassy left the shed. 
 
148 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THE TOKENS 
 
 " And slight, withal, may be the things that bring 
 Back on the heart the weight which it would fling 
 Aside forever ; it may be a sound, 
 A flower, the wind, the ocean, which shall wound, 
 Striking the electric chain wherewith we re darkly bound." 
 Childe Harold s Pilgrimage, Can. 4. 
 
 THE sitting-room of Legree s establishment was a large, 
 long room, with a wide, ample fireplace. It had once been 
 hung with a showy and expensive paper, which now hung 
 mouldering, torn and discolored, from the damp walls. The 
 place had that peculiar sickening, unwholesome smell, com 
 pounded of mingled damp, dirt, and decay, which one often 
 notices in close old houses. The wall-paper was defaced, in 
 spots, by slops of beer and wine ; or garnished with chalk 
 memorandums, and long sums footed up, as if somebody had 
 been practicing arithmetic there. In the fireplace stood a 
 brazier full of burning charcoal; for, though the weather 
 was not cold, the evenings always seemed damp and chilly 
 in that great room ; and Legree, moreover, wanted a place 
 to light his cigars, and heat his water for punch. The ruddy 
 glare of the charcoal displayed the confused and unpromising 
 aspect of the room, saddles, bridles, several sorts of har 
 ness, riding-whips, overcoats, and various articles of clothing, 
 scattered up and down the room in confused variety ; and 
 the dogs, of whom we have before spoken, had encamped 
 themselves among them to suit their own taste and conven 
 ience. 
 
 Legree was just mixing himself a tumbler of punch, pour- 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 149 
 
 ing his hot water from a cracked and broken-nosed pitcher, 
 grumbling, as he did so, 
 
 " Plague on that Sambo, to kick up this yer row between 
 me and the new hands ! The fellow won t be fit to work 
 for a week, now, right in the press of the season ! " 
 
 " Yes, just like you," said a voice behind his chair. It 
 was the woman Gassy, who had stolen upon his soliloquy. 
 
 " Hah ! you she devil ! you ve come back, have you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have," she said coolly ; " come to have my own 
 way, too ! " 
 
 " You lie, you jade ! I 11 be up to my word. Either 
 behave yourself, or stay down to the quarters, and fare and 
 work with the rest." 
 
 " I d rather, ten thousand times," said the woman, " live 
 in the dirtiest hole at the quarters than be under your 
 hoof ! " 
 
 " But you are under my hoof, for all that," said he, turn 
 ing upon her with a savage grin j a that s one comfort. So, 
 sit down here on my knee, my dear, and hear to reason," 
 said he, laying hold on her wrist. 
 
 " Simon Legree, take care ! " said the woman with a sharp 
 flash of her eye, a glance so wild and insane in its light as 
 to be almost appalling. " You re afraid of me, Simon," she 
 said deliberately ; " and you ve reason to be ! But be care 
 ful, for I ve got the devil in me ! " 
 
 The last words she whispered in a hissing tone, close to 
 his ear. 
 
 " Get out ! I believe, to my soul, you have ! " said Le 
 gree, pushing her from him, and looking uncomfortably at 
 her. " After all, Cassy," he said, " why can t you be friends 
 with me, as you used to ? " 
 
 " Used to ! " said she bitterly. She stopped short, 
 a world of choking feelings, rising in her heart, kept her 
 silent. 
 
 Cassy had always kept over Legree the kind of influence 
 
150 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 that a strong, impassioned woman can ever keep over the 
 most brutal man ; but, of late, she had grown more and 
 more irritable and restless, under the hideous yoke of her 
 servitude, and her irritability, at times, broke out into raving 
 insanity ; and this liability made her a sort of object of 
 dread to Legree, who had that superstitious horror of insane 
 persons which is common to coarse and uninstructed minds. 
 When Legree brought Emmeline to the house, all the 
 smouldering embers of womanly feeling flashed up in the 
 worn heart of Gassy, and she took part with the girl ; and 
 a fierce quarrel ensued between her and Legree. Legree, in 
 a fury, swore she should be put to field service, if she would 
 not be peaceable. Cassy, with proud scorn, declared she 
 would go to the field. And she worked there one day, as 
 we have described, to show how perfectly she scorned the 
 threat. 
 
 Legree was secretly uneasy all day ; for Cassy had an 
 influence over him from which he could not free himself. 
 When she presented her basket at the scales, he had hoped 
 for some concession and addressed her in a sort of half-con 
 ciliatory, half-scornful tone ; and she had answered with the 
 bitterest contempt. 
 
 The outrageous treatment of poor Tom had roused her 
 still more ; and she had followed Legree to the house, with 
 no particular intention but to upbraid him for his brutality. 
 
 " I wish, Cassy," said Legree, " you d behave yourself 
 decently." 
 
 "You talk about behaving decently! And what have 
 you been doing ? you, who have n t even sense enough to 
 keep from spoiling one of your best hands, right in the most 
 pressing season, just for your devilish temper ! " 
 
 " I was a fool, it s a fact, to let any such brangle come 
 up," said Legree ; " but, when the boy set up his will, he 
 had to be broke in." 
 
 " I reckon you won t break him in ! " 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 151 
 
 " Won t I ? " said Legree, rising passionately. " I J d 
 like to know if I won t ! He 11 be the first nigger that ever 
 came it round me ! I 11 break every bone in his body, but 
 he shall give up ! " 
 
 Just then the door opened, and Sambo entered. He came 
 forward, bowing, and holding out something in a paper. 
 
 " What s that, you dog ? " said Legree. 
 
 " It s a witch thing, Mas r ! " 
 
 " A what ? " 
 
 " Something that niggers gets from witches. Keeps em 
 from feelin when they s flogged. He had it tied round his 
 neck, with a black string." 
 
 Legree, like most godless and cruel men, was superstitious. 
 He took the paper and opened it uneasily. 
 
 There dropped out of it a silver dollar, and a long, shining 
 curl of fair hair, hair which, like a living thing, twined 
 itself round Legree s fingers. 
 
 "Damnation ! " he screamed, in sudden passion, stamping 
 on the floor, and pulling furiously at the hair, as if it burned 
 him. " Where did this come from ? Take it off ! burn 
 it up ! burn it up ! " he screamed, tearing it off, and throw 
 ing it into the charcoal. " W hat did you bring it to me 
 for ? " 
 
 Sambo stood, with his heavy mouth wide open, and 
 aghast with wonder ; and Gassy, who was preparing to leave 
 the apartment, stopped, and looked at him in perfect amaze 
 ment. 
 
 " Don t you bring me any more of your devilish things ! " 
 said he, shaking his fist at Sambo, who retreated hastily 
 towards the door ; and, picking up the silver dollar, he sent 
 it smashing through the window-pane out into the darkness. 
 
 Sambo was glad to make his escape. When he was gone, 
 Legree seemed a little ashamed of his fit of alarm. He sat 
 doggedly down in his chair, and began sullenly sipping his 
 tumbler of punch. 
 
152 UNCLE TOM S CABIX; OR 
 
 Gassy prepared herself for going out, unobserved by him 
 and slipped away to minister to poor Tom, as we have 
 already related. 
 
 And what was the matter with Legree ? and what was 
 there in a simple curl of fair hair to appall that brutal man, 
 familiar with every form of cruelty ? To answer this, we 
 must carry the reader backward in his history. Hard and 
 reprobate as the godless man seemed now, there had been a 
 time when he had been rocked on the bosom of a mother, 
 cradled with prayers and pious hymns, his now seared 
 brow bedewed with the waters of holy baptism. In early 
 childhood, a fair-haired woman had led him, at the sound 
 of Sabbath bell, to worship and to pray. Far in New Eng 
 land that mother had trained her only son, with long, un 
 wearied love and patient prayers. Born of a hard-tempered 
 sire, on whom that gentle woman had wasted a world of 
 unvalued love, Legree had followed in the steps of his 
 father. Boisterous, unruly, and tyrannical, he despised all 
 her counsel, and would none of her reproof ; and at an 
 early age, broke from her, to seek his fortunes at sea. He 
 never came home but once after ; and then, his mother, 
 with the yearning of a heart that must love something, and 
 has nothing else to love, clung to him, and sought, with 
 passionate prayers and entreaties, to win him from a life of 
 sin to his soul s eternal good. 
 
 That was Legree s day of grace ; then good angels called 
 him ; then he was almost persuaded, and mercy held him 
 by the hand. His heart inly relented, there was a con 
 flict, but sin got the victory, and he set all the force of 
 his rough nature against the conviction of his conscience. 
 He drank and swore, was wilder and more brutal than 
 ever. And one night, when his mother, in the last agony 
 of her despair, knelt at his feet, he spurned her from him, 
 threw her senseless on the floor, and, with brutal curses, 
 fled to his ship. The next Legree heard of his mother was 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 153 
 
 when, one night, as he was carousing among drunken com 
 panions, a letter was put into his hand. He opened it, and 
 a lock of long, curling hair fell from it, and twined about 
 his fingers. The letter told him his mother was dead, and 
 that, dying, she blest and forgave him. 
 
 There is a dread unhallowed necromancy of evil, that 
 turns things sweetest and holiest to phantoms of horror and 
 affright. That pale, loving mother, her dying prayers, 
 her forgiving love, wrought in that demoniac heart of sin 
 only as a damning sentence, bringing with it a fearful look 
 ing for of judgment and fiery indignation. Legree burned 
 the hair, and burned the letter ; and when he saw them 
 hissing and crackling in the flame, inly shuddered as he 
 thought of everlasting fires. He tried to drink, and revel, 
 and swear away the memory ; but often, in the deep night, 
 whose solemn stillness arraigns the bad soul in forced com 
 munion with herself, he had seen that pale mother rising by 
 his bedside, and felt the soft twining of that hair around his 
 fingers, till the cold sweat would roll down his face, and 
 he would spring from his bed in horror. Ye who have 
 wondered to hear, in the same evangel, that God is love, 
 and that God is a consuming fire, see ye not how, to the 
 soul resolved in evil, perfect love is the most fearful torture, 
 the seal and sentence of the direst despair ? 
 
 " Blast it ! " said Legree to himself, as he sipped his 
 liquor; " where did he get that ? If it didn t look just 
 like whoo ! I thought I d forgot that. Curse me, if 1 
 think there s any such thing as forgetting anything, any 
 how, hang it ! I m lonesome ! I mean to call Em. 
 She hates me the monkey ! I don t care, I 11 make 
 her come ! " 
 
 Legree stepped out into a large entry, which went up 
 stairs by what had formerly been a superb winding stair 
 case ; but the passage-way was dirty and dreary, encumbered 
 with boxes and unsightly litter. The stairs, uncarpeted, 
 
154 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 seemed winding up in the gloom, to nobody knew where ! 
 The pale moonlight streamed through a shattered fanlight 
 over the door ; the air was unwholesome and chilly, like 
 that of a vault. 
 
 Legree stopped at the foot of the stairs, and heard a voice 
 singing. It seemed strange and ghostlike in that dreary old 
 house, perhaps because of the already tremulous state of his 
 nerves. Hark ! what is it ? 
 
 A wild, pathetic voice chants a hymn common among the 
 slaves : 
 
 " Oh, there 11 be mourning, mourning, mourning, 
 Oh, there 11 be mourning, at the judgment-seat of Christ ! " 
 
 " Blast the girl ! " said Legree. " I 11 choke her. 
 Em! Em ! " he called harshly ; but only a mocking echo 
 from the walls answered him. The sweet voice still sung 
 on : 
 
 " Parents and children there shall part ! 
 Parents and children there shall part ! 
 Shall part to meet no more ! " 
 
 And clear and loud swelled through the empty halls the 
 refrain : 
 
 " Oh, there 11 be mourning, mourning, mourning, 
 Oh, there 11 be mourning, at the judgment-seat of Christ! " 
 
 Legree stopped. He would have been ashamed to tell 
 of it, but large drops of sweat stood on his forehead, his 
 heart beat heavy and thick with fear ; he even thought he 
 saw something white rising and glimmering in the gloom 
 before him, and shuddered to think what if the form of his 
 dead mother should suddenly appear to him. 
 
 " I know one thing." he said to himself, as he stumbled 
 back in the sitting-room, and sat down; "I ll let that 
 fellow alone after this ! What did I want of his cussed 
 paper ? I b lieve I am bewitched, sure enough ! I ve 
 been shivering and sweating ever since! Where did he 
 get that hair? It couldn t have been that! I burnt 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 155 
 
 that up, I know I did ! It would be a joke if hair could 
 rise from the dead ! " 
 
 Ah, Legree ! that golden tress was charmed ; each hair 
 had in it a spell of terror and remorse for thee, and was 
 used by a mightier power to bind thy cruel hands from in 
 flicting uttermost evil on the helpless ! 
 
 " I say," said Legree, stamping and whistling to the 
 dogs, " wake up, some of you, and keep me company ! " 
 but the dogs only opened one eye at him, sleepily, and 
 closed it again. 
 
 " I 11 have Sambo and Quimbo up here, to sing and 
 dance one of their hell dances, and keep off these horrid 
 notions," said Legree ; and, putting on his hat, he went on 
 to the veranda, and blew a horn, with which he commonly 
 summoned his two sable drivers. 
 
 Legree was often wont, when in a gracious humor, to get 
 these two worthies into his sitting-room, and, after warming 
 them up with whiskey, amuse himself by setting them to 
 singing, dancing, or fighting, as the humor took him. 
 
 It was between one and two o clock at night, as Gassy 
 was returning from her ministrations to poor Tom, that she 
 heard the sound of wild shrieking, whooping, hallooing, and 
 singing, from the sitting-room, mingled with the barking of 
 dogs and other symptoms of a general uproar. 
 
 She came up on the veranda steps, and looked in. 
 Legree and both the drivers, in a state of furious intoxica 
 tion, were singing, whooping, upsetting chairs, and making 
 all manner of ludicrous arid horrid grimaces at each other. 
 
 She rested her small, slender hand on the window-blind, 
 and looked fixedly at them ; there was a world of anguish, 
 scorn, and fierce bitterness in her black eyes as she did so. 
 " Would it be a sin to rid the world of such a wretch ? " 
 she said to herself. 
 
 She turned hurriedly away, and, passing round to a back 
 door, glided upstairs, and tapped at Emmeline s door. 
 
156 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OK 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXVI 
 
 EMMELINE AND CASSY 
 
 GASSY entered the room, and found Emmeline sitting, 
 pale with fear, in the furthest corner of it. As she came 
 in, the girl started up nervously ; but, on seeing who it 
 was, rushed forward, and catching her arm, said, " Oh, 
 Cassy, is it you ? I ? m so glad you ve come ! I was afraid 
 it was Oh, you don t know what a horrid noise there 
 has been downstairs all this evening ! " 
 
 " I ought to know," said Cassy dryly. " I ve heard it 
 often enough." 
 
 " Oh, Cassy ! do tell me, could n t we get away from 
 this place ? I don t care where, into the swamp among 
 the snakes, anywhere ! Could n t we get somewhere, 
 away from here ?" 
 
 " Nowhere, but into our graves," said Cassy. 
 
 " Did you ever try ? " 
 
 "I ve seen enough of trying, and what comes of it," 
 said Cassy. 
 
 " I d be willing to live in the swamps, and gnaw the 
 bark from trees. I ain t afraid of snakes ! I d rather have 
 one near me than him," said Emmeline eagerly. 
 
 " There have been a good many here of your opinion," 
 said Cassy ; " but you could n t stay in the swamps, 
 you d be tracked by the dogs, and brought back, and then 
 - then " - 
 
 " What would he do ? " said the girl, looking with 
 breathless interest into her face. 
 
 " What would n t he do, you d better ask," said Cassy. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 157 
 
 " He s learned his trade well, among the pirates in the 
 West Indies. You would n t sleep much if I should tell 
 you things I ve seen, things that he tells of sometimes, 
 for good jokes. I ve heard screams here that I have n t 
 been able to get out of my head for weeks and weeks. 
 There s a place way out down by the quarters, where you 
 can see a black, blasted tree, and the ground all covered 
 with black ashes. Ask any one what was done there, and 
 see if they will dare to tell you." 
 
 " Oh, what do you mean ? " 
 
 "I won t tell you. I hate to think of it. And I tell 
 you, the Lord only knows what we may see to-morrow if 
 that poor fellow holds out as he s begun." 
 
 " Horrid ! " said Emmeline, every drop of blood reced 
 ing from her cheeks. " Oh, Gassy, do tell me what I 
 shall do ! " 
 
 "What I ve done. Do the best you can, do what 
 you must, and make it up in hating and cursing." 
 
 "He wanted to make me drink some of his hateful 
 brandy," said Emmeline ; " and I hate it so " 
 
 " You d better drink," said Cassy. " I hated it, too ; 
 and now I can t live without it. One must have something, 
 things don t look so dreadful when you take that." 
 
 " Mother used to tell me never to touch any such thing," 
 said Emmeline. 
 
 " Mother told you ! " said Cassy, with a thrilling and 
 bitter emphasis on the word mother. " What use is it for 
 mothers to say anything ? You are all to be bought and 
 paid for, and your soul belongs to whoever gets you. That s 
 the way it goes. I say, drink brandy ; drink all you can, 
 and it 11 make things come easier." 
 
 " Oh, Cassy ! do pity me ! " 
 
 " Pity you ! don t I ? Have n t I a daughter, Lord 
 knows where she is, and whose she is, now, going the 
 way her mother went before her, I suppose, and that her 
 
158 UXCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 children must go after her ! There s no end to the curse 
 forever ! " 
 
 " I wish I d never been born ! " said Emmeline, wring 
 ing her hands. 
 
 "That s an old wish with me," said Gassy. " I ve got 
 used to wishing that. I d die if I dared to," she said, look 
 ing out into the darkness, with that still, fixed despair which 
 was the habitual expression of her face when at rest. 
 
 " It would be wicked to kill one s self," said Emmeline. 
 
 " I don t know why, no wickeder than things we live 
 and do day after day. But the sisters told me things when 
 I was in the convent that make me afraid to die. If it 
 would only be the end of us, why then " 
 
 Emmeline turned away, and hid her face in her hands. 
 
 While this conversation was passing in the chamber, Le- 
 gree, overcome with his carouse, had sunk to sleep in the 
 room below. Legree was not an habitual drunkard. His 
 coarse, strong nature craved, and could endure, a continual 
 stimulation that would have utterly wrecked and crazed a 
 finer one. But a deep, underlying spirit of cautiousness 
 prevented his often yielding to appetite in such measure as 
 to lose control of himself. 
 
 This night, however, in his feverish efforts to banish from 
 his mind those fearful elements of woe and remorse which 
 woke within him, he had indulged more than common ; so 
 that when he had discharged his sable attendants, he fell 
 heavily on a settle in the room, and was soon sound asleep. 
 
 Oh ! how dares the bad soul to enter the shadowy world 
 of sleep ? that land whose dim outlines lie so fearfully 
 near to the mystic scene of retribution ! Legree dreamed. 
 In his heavy and feverish sleep, a veiled form stood beside 
 him, and laid a cold, soft hand upon him. He thought he 
 knew who it was ; and shuddered, with creeping horror, 
 though the face was veiled. Then he thought he felt that 
 hair twining round his fingers ; and then, that it slid 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 159 
 
 smoothly round his neck, and tightened and tightened, and 
 he could not draw his breath ; and then he thought voices 
 whispered to him, whispers that chilled him with horror. 
 Then it seemed to him he was on the edge of a frightful 
 abyss, holding on and struggling in mortal fear, while dark 
 hands stretched up, and were pulling him. over ; and Gassy 
 came behind him laughing, and pushed him. And then 
 rose up that solemn veiled figure, and drew aside the veil. 
 It was his mother ; and she turned away from him, and he 
 fell down, down, down, amid a confused noise of shrieks, 
 and groans, and shouts of demon laughter, and Legree 
 awoke. 
 
 Calmly the rosy hue of dawn was stealing into the room. 
 The morning star stood, with its solemn, holy eye of light, 
 looking down on the man of sin, from out the brightening 
 sky. Oh, with what freshness, what solemnity and beauty, 
 is each new day born ; as if to say to insensate man, " Behold ! 
 thou hast one more chance ! Strive for immortal glory ! " 
 There is no speech nor language where this voice is not 
 heard ; but the bold, bad man heard it not. He woke with 
 an oath and a curse. What to him was the gold and pur 
 ple, the daily miracle of morning ! What to him the sanc 
 tity of that star which the Son of God has hallowed as his 
 own emblem ? Brute-like, he saw without perceiving ; and, 
 stumbling forward, poured out a tumbler of brandy and 
 drank half of it. 
 
 " I ve had a h 1 of a night ! " he said to Gassy, who 
 just then entered from an opposite door. 
 
 " You 11 get plenty of the same sort by and by," said 
 she dryly. 
 
 " What do you mean, you minx ? " 
 
 " You 11 find out one of these days," returned Gassy in 
 the same tone. " Now, Simon, I ve one piece of advice to 
 give you." 
 
 " The devil, you have ! " 
 
160 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " My advice is," said Gassy steadily, as she began adjust 
 ing some things about the room, " that you let Tom alone." 
 
 " What business is t of yours ? " 
 
 " What ? To be sure, I don t know what it should be. 
 If you want to pay twelve hundred for a fellow, and use 
 him right up in the press of the season, just to serve your 
 own spite, it s no business of mine. I ve done what I 
 could for him." 
 
 " You have ? What business have you meddling in my 
 matters ? " 
 
 " None, to be sure. I ve saved you some thousands of 
 dollars at different times, by taking care of your hands, 
 that s all the thanks I get. If your crop comes shorter 
 into market than any of theirs, you won t lose your bet, I 
 suppose ? Tompkins won t lord it over you, I suppose, 
 and you 11 pay down your money like a lady, won t you ? 
 I think I see you doing it ! " 
 
 Legree, like many other planters, had but one form of 
 ambition, to have in the heaviest crop of the season, 
 and he had several bets on this very present season pend 
 ing in the next town. Gassy, therefore, with woman s tact, 
 touched the only string that could be made to vibrate. 
 
 "Well, I 11 let him off at what he s got," said Legree ; 
 " but he shall beg my pardon, and promise better fashions." 
 
 " That he won t do," said Gassy. 
 
 " Won t, eh ? " 
 
 "No, he won t," said Gassy. 
 
 "I d like to know why. Mistress," said Legree, in the 
 extreme of scorn. 
 
 " Because he s done right, and he knows it, and won t 
 say he s done wrong." 
 
 " Who a cuss cares what he knows ? The nigger shall 
 say what I please, or " 
 
 " Or, you 11 lose your bet on the cotton crop, by keeping 
 him out of the field, just at this very press." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 161 
 
 " But he will give up, course, he will ; don t I know 
 what niggers is ? He 11 beg like a dog this morning." 
 
 " He won t, Simon ; you don t know this kind. You 
 may kill him by inches, you won t get the first word of 
 confession out of him." 
 
 " We 11 see ; where is he ? " said Legree, going out. 
 
 " In the waste-room of the gin-house," said Cassy. 
 
 Legree, though he talked so stoutly to Cassy, still sallied 
 forth from the house with a degree of misgiving which was 
 not common with him. His dreams of the past night, mingled 
 with Cassy s prudential suggestions, considerably affected his 
 mind. He resolved that nobody should be witness of his 
 encounter with Tom ; and determined, if he could not sub 
 due him by bullying, to defer his vengeance, to be wreaked 
 in a more convenient season. 
 
 The solemn light of dawn the angelic glory of the 
 morning star had looked in through the rude window of 
 the shed where Tom was lying ; and, as if descending on 
 that star-beam, came the solemn words, " I am the root and 
 offspring of David, and the bright and morning star." The 
 mysterious warnings and intimations of Cassy, so far from 
 discouraging his soul, in the end had aroused it as with a 
 heavenly call. He did not know but that the day of his 
 death was dawning in the sky ; and his heart throbbed with 
 solemn throes of joy and desire, as he thought that the 
 wondrous all, of which he had often pondered, the great 
 white throne, with its ever radiant rainbow ; the white-robed 
 multitude, with voices as many waters ; the crowns, the 
 palms, the harps, might all break upon his vision before 
 that sun should set again. And, therefore, without shud 
 dering or trembling, he heard the voice of his persecutor, 
 as he drew near. 
 
 " Well, my boy," said Legree, with a contemptuous kick, 
 "how do you find yourself? Didn t I tell yer I could lam 
 yer a thing or two ? How do yer like it, eh ? How did 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
162 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 yer whaling agree with yer, Tom ? Ain t quite so crank as 
 ye was last night. Ye could n t treat a poor sinner, now, 
 to a bit of a sermon, could ye, eh ? " 
 
 Tom answered nothing. 
 
 " Get up, you beast ! " said Legree, kicking him again. 
 
 This was a difficult matter for one so bruised and faint ; 
 and, as Tom made efforts to do so, Legree laughed brutally. 
 
 " What makes ye so spry this morning, Tom ? Cotched 
 cold, maybe, last night." 
 
 Tom by this time had gained his feet, and was confront 
 ing his master with a steady, unmoved front. 
 
 " The devil, you can ! " said Legree, looking him ,over. 
 "I believe you haven t got enough yet. Now, Tom, get 
 right down on yer knees and beg my pardon, for yer shines 
 last night." 
 
 Tom did not move. 
 
 " Down, you dog ! " said Legree, striking him with his 
 rid ing- whip. 
 
 " Mas r Legree," said Tom, " I can t do it. I did only 
 what I thought was right. I shall do just so again, if ever 
 the time comes. I never will do a cruel thing, come what 
 may." 
 
 " Yes, but ye don t know what may come, Master Tom. 
 Ye think what you ve got is something. I tell you t ain t 
 anything, nothing t all. How would ye like to be tied 
 to a tree, and have a slow fire lit up around ye ; would n t 
 that be pleasant, eh, Tom ? " 
 
 " Mas r," said Tom, " I know ye can do dreadful things ; 
 but," he stretched himself upward and clasped his hands, 
 " but, after ye ve killed the body, there ain t no more 
 ye can do. And oh, there s all ETERNITY to come, after 
 that ! " 
 
 ETERNITY, the word thrilled through the black man s 
 soul with light and power as he spoke ; it thrilled through 
 the sinner s soul, too, like the bite of a scorpion. Legree 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 163 
 
 gnashed on him with his teeth, but rage kept him silent; 
 and Tom, like a man disenthralled, spoke in a clear and 
 cheerful voice, 
 
 "Mas r Legree, as ye bought me, I ll be a true and 
 faithful servant to ye. I 11 give ye all the work of my 
 hands, all my time, all my strength ; but my soul I won t 
 give up to mortal man. I will hold on to the Lord, and 
 put his commands before all, die or live ; you may be 
 sure on t. Mas r Legree, I ain t a grain afeard to die. I d as 
 soon die as not. Ye may whip me, starve me, burn me, 
 it 11 only send me sooner where I want to go." 
 
 " I 11 make ye give out, though, fore I ve done ! " said 
 Legree in a rage. 
 
 " I shall have help," said Tom. " You 11 never do it." 
 
 " Who the devil s going to help you ? " said Legree 
 scornfully. 
 
 " The Lord Almighty," said Tom. 
 
 " D n you ! " said Legree, as with one blow of his fist 
 he felled Tom to the earth. 
 
 A cold soft hand fell on Legree s at this moment. He 
 turned, it was Cassy s ; but the cold soft touch recalled 
 his dream of the night before, and, flashing through the 
 chambers of his brain, came all the fearful images of the 
 night-watches, with a portion of the horror that accompanied 
 them. 
 
 " Will you be a fool ? " said Gassy in French. " Let 
 him go ! Let me alone to get him fit to be in the field 
 again. Is n t it just as I told you ? " 
 
 They say the alligator, the rhinoceros, though inclosed in 
 bullet-proof mail, have each a spot where they are vulner 
 able ; and fierce, reckless, unbelieving reprobates have com 
 monly this point in superstitious dread. 
 
 Legree turned away, determined to let the point go for 
 the time. 
 
 " Well, have it your own way," he said doggedly to Gassy. 
 
164 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Hark ye ! " he said to Tom ; " I won t deal with ye 
 now because business is pressing, and I want all my hands ; 
 but I never forget. I 11 score it against ye, and some time 
 I 11 have my pay out o yer old black hide, mind ye ! " 
 
 Legree turned and went out. 
 
 " There you go," said Cassy, looking darkly after him ; 
 " your reckoning s to come yet ! My poor fellow, how 
 are you ? " 
 
 " The Lord God hath sent his angel, and shut the lion s 
 mouth for this time," said Tom. 
 
 " For this time, to be sure," said Cassy ; " but now 
 you ? ve got his ill. will upon you, to follow you day in, day 
 out, hanging like a dog on your throat, sucking your 
 blood, bleeding away your life, drop by drop. I know the 
 man." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 165 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 LIBERTY 
 
 " No matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the 
 altar of slavery, the moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar 
 and the God sink together in the dust, and he stands redeemed, regener 
 ated, and disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of universal emancipa 
 tion." CURRAN. 
 
 AWHILE we must leave Tom in the hands of his persecu 
 tors, while we turn to pursue the fortunes of George and 
 his wife, whom we left in friendly hands, in a farmhouse 
 on the roadside. 
 
 Tom Loker we left groaning and touzling in a most 
 immaculately clean Quaker bed, under the motherly super 
 vision of Aunt Dorcas, who found him to the full as tract 
 able a patient as a sick bison. 
 
 Imagine a tall, dignified, spiritual woman, whose clear 
 muslin cap shades waves of silvery hair, parted on a broad, 
 clear forehead, which overarches thoughtful gray eyes. A 
 snowy handkerchief of lisse crape is folded neatly across her 
 bosom, her glossy brown silk dress rustles peacefully, as she 
 glides up and down the chamber. 
 
 " The devil ! " says Tom Loker, giving a great throw to 
 the bedclothes. 
 
 " I must request thee, Thomas, not to use such language," 
 says Aunt Dorcas, as she quietly rearranged the bed. 
 
 " Well, I won t, granny, if I can help it," says Tom ; 
 " but it is enough to make a fellow swear, so cursedly 
 hot ! 
 
 Dorcas removed a comforter from the bed, straightened 
 
166 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 the clothes again, and tucked them in till Tom looked some 
 thing like a chrysalis ; remarking as she did so, 
 
 "I wish, friend, thee would leave off cursing and swear 
 ing, and think upon thy ways." 
 
 "What the devil," said Tom, "should I think of them 
 for ? Last thing ever / want to think of, hang it all ! " 
 And Tom flounced over, untucking and disarranging every 
 thing, in a manner frightful to behold. 
 
 " That fellow and gal are here, I s pose," said he sul 
 lenly, after a pause. 
 
 " They are so," said Dorcas. 
 
 " They d better be off up to the lake," said Tom ; " the 
 quicker the better." 
 
 " Probably they will do so," said Aunt Dorcas, knitting 
 peacefully. 
 
 " And hark ye," said Tom ; " we ? ve got correspondents 
 in Sandusky that watch the boats for us. I don t care if I 
 tell now. I hope they will get away, just to spite Marks, 
 the cursed puppy ! d n him ! " 
 
 "Thomas!" said Dorcas. 
 
 " I tell you, granny, if you bottle a fellow up too tight, 
 I shall split," said Tom. " But about the gal, tell em 
 to dress her up some way, so s to alter her. Her descrip 
 tion s out in Sandusky." 
 
 "We will attend to that matter," said Dorcas, with char 
 acteristic composure. 
 
 As we at this place take leave of Tom Loker, we may as 
 well say that, having lain three weeks at the Quaker dwell 
 ing, sick with rheumatic fever, which set in, in company 
 with his other afflictions, Tom arose from his bed a some 
 what sadder and wiser man ; and, in place of slave-catching, 
 betook himself to life in one of the new settlements, where 
 his talents developed themselves more happily in trapping 
 bears, wolves, and other inhabitants of the forest, in which 
 he made himself quite a name in the land. Tom always 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 167 
 
 spoke reverently of the Quakers. "Nice people," he would 
 say; "wanted to convert me, but couldn t come it exactly. 
 But, tell ye what, stranger, they do fix up a sick fellow 
 firstrate, no mistake. Make jist the tallest kind o broth 
 and knick-knacks." 
 
 As Tom had informed them that their party would be 
 looked for in Sandusky, it was thought prudent to divide 
 them. Jim, with his old mother, was forwarded separately ; 
 and a night or two after, George and Eliza, with their child, 
 were driven privately into Sandusky, and lodged beneath a 
 hospitable roof, preparatory to taking their last passage on 
 the lake. 
 
 Their night was now far spent, and the morning star of 
 liberty rose fair before them. Liberty ! electric word ! 
 What is it ? Is there anything more in it than a name, 
 a rhetorical nourish ? Why, men and women of America, 
 does your heart s blood thrill at that word, for which your 
 fathers bled, and your braver mothers were willing that their 
 noblest and best should die ? 
 
 Is there anything in it glorious and dear for a nation, 
 that is not also glorious and dear for a man ? What is 
 freedom to a nation but freedom to the individuals in it ? 
 What is freedom to that young man who sits there, with 
 his arms folded over his broad chest, the tint of African 
 blood in his cheek, its dark fires in his eye, what is free 
 dom to George Harris ? To your fathers, freedom was the 
 right of a nation to be a nation. To him, it is the right of 
 a man to be a man, and not a brute ; the right to call the 
 wife of his bosom his wife, and to protect her from lawless 
 violence ; the right to protect and educate his child ; the 
 right to have a home of his own, a religion of his own, a 
 character of his own, unsubject to the will of another. All 
 these thoughts were rolling and seething in George s breast, 
 as he was pensively leaning his head on his hand, watching 
 his wife, as she was adapting to her slender and pretty form 
 
1G8 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 the articles of man s attire, in which it was deemed safest 
 she should make her escape. 
 
 " Now for it," said she, as she stood before the glass, and 
 shook down her silky abundance of black curly hair, " I say, 
 George, it s almost a pity, is n t it," she said, as she held 
 up some of it playfully, " pity it s all got to come off ? " 
 
 George smiled sadly, and made no answer. 
 
 Eliza turned to the glass, and the scissors glittered as one 
 long lock after another was detached from her head. 
 
 " There, now, that 11 do," she said, taking up a hair 
 brush ; " now for a few fancy touches." 
 
 " There, ain t I a pretty young fellow ? " she said, turn 
 ing around to her husband, laughing and blushing at the 
 same time. 
 
 "You always will be pretty, do what you will," said 
 George. 
 
 " What does make you so sober ? " said Eliza, kneeling 
 on one knee, and laying her hand on his. " We are only 
 within twenty-four hours of Canada, they say. Only a day 
 and a night on the lake, and then, oh, then ! " 
 
 " Oh, Eliza ! " said George, drawing her towards him, 
 " that is it ! Now my fate is all narrowing down to a point. 
 To come so near, to be almost in sight, and then lose all 
 I should never live under it, Eliza." 
 
 " Don t fear," said his wife hopefully. "The good Lord 
 would not have brought us so far if he did n t mean to carry 
 us through. I seem to feel him with us, George." 
 
 " You are a blessed woman, Eliza ! " said George, clasp 
 ing her with a convulsive grasp. " But oh, tell me ! can 
 this great mercy be for us ? Will these years and years of 
 misery come to an end ? shall we be free ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it, George," said Eliza, looking upward, 
 while tears of hope and enthusiasm shone on her long, dark 
 lashes. " I feel it in me, that God is going to bring us out 
 of bondage this very day." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 169 
 
 " I will believe you, Eliza/ said George, rising suddenly 
 up. " I will believe, come, let s be off. Well, indeed," 
 said he, holding her off at arm s length, and looking admir 
 ingly at her, " you are a pretty little fellow. That crop 
 of little short curls is quite becoming. Put on your cap. 
 So ! a little to one side. I never saw you look quite so 
 pretty. But it s almost time for the carriage ; I wonder 
 if Mrs. Smyth has got Harry rigged ? " 
 
 The door opened, and a respectable, middle-aged woman 
 entered, leading little Harry, dressed in girl s clothes. 
 
 " What a pretty girl he makes," said Eliza, turning him 
 round. " We call him Harriet, you see ; don t the name 
 come nicely ? " 
 
 The child stood gravely regarding his mother in her new 
 and strange attire, observing a profound silence, and occa 
 sionally drawing deep sighs, and peeping at her from under 
 his dark curls. 
 
 " Does Harry know mamma ? " said Eliza, stretching her 
 hands toward him. 
 
 The child clung shyly to the woman. 
 
 "Come, Eliza, why do you try to coax him, when you 
 know that he has got to be kept away from you ? " 
 
 "I know it s. foolish," said Eliza; " yet, I can t bear to 
 have him turn away from me. But come, where s my 
 cloak ? Here, how is it men put on cloaks, George ? " 
 
 " You must wear it so," said her husband, throwing it 
 over his shoulders. 
 
 " So, then," said Eliza, imitating the motion, " and I 
 must stamp, and take long steps, and try to look saucy." 
 
 " Don t exert yourself," said George. " There is, now 
 and then, a modest young man ; and I think it would be 
 easier for you to act that character." 
 
 " And these gloves ! mercy upon us ! " said Eliza ; " why, 
 my hands are lost in them." 
 
 "I advise you to keep them on pretty strictly," said 
 
170 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 George. " Your little slender paw might bring us all out. 
 Now, Mrs. Smyth, you are to go under our charge, and be 
 our aunty, you mind." 
 
 " I ve heard/ said Mrs. Smith, " that there have been 
 men down, warning all the packet captains against a man 
 and woman, with a little boy." 
 
 " They have ! " said George. " Well, if we see any such 
 people, we can tell them." 
 
 A hack now drove to the door, and the friendly family 
 who had received the fugitives crowded around them with 
 farewell greetings. 
 
 The disguises the party had assumed were in accordance 
 with the hints of Tom Loker. Mrs. Smyth, a respectable 
 woman from the settlement in Canada, whither they were 
 fleeing, being fortunately about crossing the lake to return 
 thither, had consented to appear as the aunt of little Harry ; 
 and, in order to attach him to her, he had been allowed to 
 remain the last two days under her sole charge ; and an 
 extra amount of petting, joined to an indefinite amount of 
 seed-cakes and candy, had cemented a very close attachment 
 on the part of the young gentleman. 
 
 The hack drove to the wharf. The two young men, as 
 they appeared, walked up the plank into the boat, Eliza 
 gallantly giving her arm to Mrs. Smyth, and George attend 
 ing to their baggage. 
 
 George was standing at the captain s office, settling for his 
 party, when he overheard two men talking by his side. 
 
 " I ve watched every one that came on board," said one, 
 " and I know they re not on this boat." 
 
 The voice was that of the clerk of the boat. The speaker 
 whom he addressed was our sometime friend Marks, who, 
 with that valuable perseverance which characterized him, 
 had come on to Sandusky, seeking whom he might devour. 
 
 " You would scarcely know the woman from a white one," 
 said Marks. " The man is a very light mulatto ; he has a 
 brand in one of his hands." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 171 
 
 The hand with which George was taking the tickets and 
 change trembled a little ; but he turned coolly around, fixed 
 an unconcerned glance on the face of the speaker, and walked 
 leisurely toward another part of the boat, where Eliza stood 
 waiting for him. 
 
 Mrs. Smyth, with little Harry, sought the seclusion of the 
 ladies cabin, where the dark beauty of the supposed little 
 girl drew many nattering comments from the passengers. 
 
 George had the satisfaction, as the bell rang out its fare 
 well peal, to see Marks walk down the plank to the shore 5 
 and drew a long sigh of relief, when the boat had put a 
 returnless distance between them. 
 
 It was a superb day. The blue waves of Lake Erie danced, 
 rippling and sparkling, in the sunlight. A fresh breeze blew 
 from the shore, and the lordly boat ploughed her way right 
 gallantly onward. 
 
 Oh, what an untold world there is in one human heart ! 
 Who thought, as George walked calmly up and down the 
 deck of the steamer, with his shy companion at his side, of 
 all that was burning in his bosom ? The mighty good that 
 seemed approaching seemed too good, too fair, even to be a 
 reality ; and he felt a jealous dread, every moment of the 
 day, that something would rise to snatch it from him. 
 
 But the boat swept on. Hours fleeted, and at last clear 
 and full rose the blessed English shores ; shores charmed 
 by a mighty spell, with one touch to dissolve every in 
 cantation of slavery, no matter in what language pronounced 
 or by what national power confirmed. 
 
 George and his wife stood arm in arm, as the boat neared 
 the small town of Amherstburg, in Canada. His breath 
 grew thick and short ; a mist gathered before his eyes ; he 
 silently pressed the little hand that lay trembling on his 
 arm. The bell rang; the boat stopped. Scarcely seeing 
 what he did, he looked out his baggage, and gathered his 
 little party. The little company were landed on the shore. 
 
172 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 They stood still till the boat had cleared ; and then, with 
 tears and embracings, the husband and wife, with their 
 wondering child in their arms, knelt clown and lifted up 
 their hearts to God ! 
 
 " T was something like the burst from death to life ; 
 
 From the grave s cerements to the robes of heaven; 
 From sin s dominion, and from passion s strife, 
 
 To the pure freedom of a soul forgiven; 
 
 Where all the bonds of death and hell are riven, 
 And mortal puts on immortality, 
 When Mercy s hand hath turned the golden key, 
 And Mercy s voice hath said, Rejoice, thy soul isj ree." 
 
 The little party were soon guided, by Mrs. Smyth,, to 
 the hospitable abode of a good missionary, whom Christian 
 charity has placed here as a shepherd to the outcast and 
 wandering, who are constantly finding an asylum on this 
 shore. 
 
 Who can speak the blessedness of that first day of free 
 dom ? Is not the sense of liberty a higher and a finer one 
 than any of the five ? To move, speak, and breathe, 
 go out and come in unwatched, and free from danger ! Who 
 can speak the blessings of that rest which conies down on 
 the free man s pillow, under laws which insure to him the 
 rights that God has given to man ? How fair and precious 
 to that mother was that sleeping child s face, endeared by 
 the memory of a thousand dangers ! How impossible was 
 it to sleep, in the exuberant possession of such blessedness ! 
 And yet, these two had not one acre of ground, not a roof 
 that they could call their own, they had spent their all, 
 to the last dollar. They had nothing more than the birds 
 of the air or the flowers of the field, yet they could not 
 sleep for joy. " Oh, ye who take freedom from man, with 
 what words shall ye answer it to God ? " 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 173 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVIII 
 
 THE VICTORY 
 
 " Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory." 
 
 HAVE not many of us, in the weary way of life, felt in 
 some hours how far easier it were to die than to live ? 
 
 The martyr, when faced even by a death of bodily anguish 
 and horror, finds in the very terror of his doom a strong 
 stimulant and tonic. There is a vivid excitement, a thrill and 
 fervor, which may carry through any crisis of suffering that 
 is the birth-hour of eternal glory and rest. 
 
 But to live, to wear on day after day of mean, bitter, 
 low, harassing servitude, every nerve dampened and de 
 pressed, every power of feeling gradually smothered, this 
 long and wasting heart-martyrdom, this slow, daily bleeding 
 away of the inward life, drop by drop, hour after hour, 
 this is the true searching test of what there may be in man 
 or woman. 
 
 When Tom stood face to face with his persecutor, and 
 heard his threats, and thought in his very soul that his hour 
 was come, his heart swelled bravely in him, and he thought 
 he could bear torture and fire, bear anything with the vision 
 of Jesus and heaven but just a step beyond ; but, when he 
 was gone, and the present excitement passed off, came back 
 the pain of his bruised and weary limbs, came back the 
 sense of his utterly degraded, hopeless, forlorn estate ; and 
 the day passed wearily enough. 
 
 Long before his wounds were healed, Legree insisted that 
 he should be put to the regular field-work j and then came 
 
174 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 day after day of pain and weariness, aggravated by every 
 kind of injustice and indignity that the ill will of a mean 
 and malicious mind could devise. Whoever, in our circum 
 stances, has made trial of pain, even with all the alleviations 
 which, for us, usually attend it, must know the irritation 
 that comes with it. Tom no longer wondered at the habit 
 ual surliness of his associates ; nay, he found the placid, 
 sunny temper, which had been the habitude of his life, 
 broken in on, and sorely strained, by the inroads of the same 
 thing. He had flattered himself on leisure to read his Bible ; 
 but there was no such thing as leisure there. In the height 
 of the season, Legree did not hesitate to press all his hands 
 through, Sundays and week-days alike. Why should n t 
 he ? he made more cotton by it, and gained his wager ; 
 and if it wore out a few more hands, he could buy better 
 ones". At first, Tom used to read a verse or two of his 
 Bible, by the flicker of the fire, after he had returned from 
 his daily toil ; but, after the cruel treatment he received, he 
 used to come home so exhausted that his head swam and 
 his eyes failed when he tried to read j and he was fain to 
 stretch himself down, with the others, in utter exhaustion. 
 
 Is it strange that the religious peace and trust, which had 
 upborne him hitherto, should give way to tossings of soul 
 and despondent darkness ? The gloomiest problem of this 
 mysterious life was constantly before his eyes, souls 
 crushed and ruined, evil triumphant, and God silent. It 
 was weeks and months that Tom wrestled in his own soul, 
 in darkness and sorrow. He thought of Miss Ophelia s 
 letter to his Kentucky friends, and would pray earnestly 
 that God would send him deliverance. And then he would 
 watch day after day, in the vague hope of seeing somebody 
 sent to redeem him ; and, when nobody came, he would crush 
 back to his soul bitter thoughts, that it was vain to serve 
 God, that God had forgotten him. He sometimes saw 
 Cassy ; and sometimes, when summoned to the house, 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 175 
 
 caught a glimpse of the dejected form of Emmeline, but 
 held very little communion with either ; in fact, there was 
 no time for him to commune with anybody. 
 
 One evening, he was sitting, in utter dejection and pros 
 tration, by a few decaying brands, where his coarse supper 
 was baking. He put a few bits of brushwood on the fire, 
 and strove to raise the light, and then drew his worn Bible 
 from his pocket. There were all the marked passages, 
 which had thrilled his soul so often, words of patriarchs 
 and seers, poets and sages, who from early time had spoken 
 courage to man, voices from the great cloud of witnesses 
 who ever surround us in the race of life. Had the word 
 lost its power, or could the failing eye and weary sense no 
 longer answer to the touch of that mighty inspiration ? 
 Heavily sighing, he put it in his pocket. A coarse laugh 
 roused him ; he looked up, Legree was standing opposite 
 to him. 
 
 " Well, old boy/ he said, " you find your religion don t 
 work, it seems ! I thought I should get that through your 
 wool at last ! " 
 
 The cruel taunt was more than hunger and cold and 
 nakedness. Tom was silent. 
 
 " You were a fool," said Legree ; " for I meant to do 
 well by you, when I bought you. You might have been 
 better off than Sambo or Quimbo either, and had easy 
 times ; and, instead of getting cut up and thrashed every 
 day or two, ye might have had liberty to lord it round, 
 and cut up the other niggers ; and ye might have had now 
 and then a good warming of whiskey punch. Come, Tom, 
 don t you think you d better be reasonable ? heave that 
 ar old pack of trash in the fire, and join my church ! " 
 
 " The Lord forbid ! " said Tom fervently. 
 
 " You see the Lord ain t going to help you ; if he had 
 been, he would n t have let me get you ! This yer reli 
 gion is all a mess of lying trumpery, Tom. I know all 
 
176 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 about it. Ye d better hold to me. I m somebody, and 
 can do something ! " 
 
 "No, Mas r," said Tom; "I ll hold on. The Lord 
 may help me, or not help ; but I 11 hold to him, and be 
 lieve him to the last ! " 
 
 " The more fool you ! " said Legree, spitting scornfully at 
 him, and spurning him with his foot. " Never mind ; I 11 
 chase you down yet, and bring you under, you 11 see ! " 
 and Legree turned away. 
 
 When a heavy weight presses the soul to the lowest 
 level at which endurance is possible, there is an instant and 
 desperate effort of every physical and moral nerve to throw 
 off the weight ; and hence the heaviest anguish often pre 
 cedes a return tide of joy and courage. So was it now with 
 Tom. The atheistic taunts of his cruel master sunk his be 
 fore dejected soul to the lowest ebb ; and, though the hand 
 of faith still held to the eternal rock, it was with a numb, 
 despairing grasp. Tom sat, like one stunned, at the fire. 
 Suddenly everything around him seemed to fade, and a 
 vision rose before him of one crowned with thorns, buffeted 
 and bleeding. Tom gazed, in awe and wonder, at the ma 
 jestic patience of the face ; the deep, pathetic eyes thrilled 
 him to his inmost heart ; his soul woke as, with floods of 
 emotion, he stretched out his hands and fell upon his knees, 
 when, gradually, the vision changed : the sharp thorns 
 became rays of glory, and, in splendor inconceivable, he 
 saw that same face bending compassionately towards him, 
 and a voice said, " He that overcometh shall sit down with 
 me on my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down 
 with my Father on his throne." 
 
 How long Tom lay there he knew not. When he came 
 to himself, the fire was gone out, his clothes were wet with 
 the chill and drenching dews ; but the dread soul-crisis was 
 past, and, in the joy that filled him, he no longer felt hun 
 ger, cold, degradation, disappointment, wretchedness. From 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 177 
 
 his deepest soul, he that hour loosed and parted from every 
 hope in the life that now is, and offered his own will an un 
 questioning sacrifice to the Infinite. Tom looked up to the 
 silent, ever-living stars, types of the angelic hosts who ever 
 look down on man ; and the solitude of the night rung with 
 the triumphant words of a hymn which he had sung often 
 in happier days, but never with such feeling as now : 
 
 " The earth shall be dissolved like snow, 
 
 The sun shall cease to shine ; 
 But God, who called me here below, 
 Shall be forever mine. 
 
 "And when this mortal life shall fail, 
 
 And flesh and sense shall cease, 
 I shall possess within the veil 
 A life of joy and peace. 
 
 " When we ve been there ten thousand years, 
 
 Bright shining like the sun, 
 We ve no less days to sing God s praise, 
 Than when we first begun." 
 
 Those who have been familiar with the religious histories 
 of the slave population know that relations like what we 
 have narrated are very common among them. We have 
 heard some from their own lips, of a very touching and 
 affecting character. The psychologist tells us of a state, 
 in which the affections and images of the mind become so 
 dominant and overpowering, that they press into their ser 
 vice the outward senses, and make them give tangible shape 
 to the inward imagining. Who shall measure what an 
 all-pervading Spirit may do with these capabilities of our 
 mortality, or the ways in which he may encourage the de 
 sponding souls of the desolate ? If the poor forgotten slave 
 believes that Jesus hath appeared and spoken to him, who 
 shall contradict him ? Did He not say that his mission, in 
 all ages, was to bind up the broken-hearted, and set at lib 
 erty them that are bruised ? 
 
 When the dim gray of dawn woke the slumberers to go 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
178 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 forth to the field, there was among those tattered and shiv 
 ering wretches one who walked with an exultant tread ; for 
 firmer than the ground he trod on was his strong faith in 
 almighty, eternal love. Ah, Legree, try all your forces 
 now ! Utmost agony, woe, degradation, want, and loss of 
 all things shall only hasten on the process by which he 
 shall be made a king and a priest unto God ! 
 
 From this time an inviolable sphere of peace encompassed 
 the lowly heart of the oppressed one, an ever-present 
 Saviour hallowed it as a temple. Past now the bleeding 
 of earthly regrets ; past its fluctuations of hope, and fear, 
 and desire ; the human will, bent, and bleeding, and strug 
 gling long, was now entirely merged in the Divine. So 
 short now seemed the remaining voyage of life, so near, 
 so vivid, seemed eternal blessedness, that life s uttermost 
 woes fell from him unharming. 
 
 All noticed the change in his appearance. Cheerfulness 
 and alertness seemed to return to him, and a quietness 
 which no insult or injury could ruffle seemed to possess him. 
 
 " What the devil s got into Tom ? " Legree said to 
 Sambo. " A while ago he was all down in the mouth, and 
 now he s peart as a cricket." 
 
 " Dunno, Mas r ; gwine to run off, mebbe." 
 
 " Like to see him try that," said Legree, with a savage 
 grin, " would n t we, Sambo ? " 
 
 " Guess we would ! Haw ! haw ! ho ! " said the sooty 
 gnome, laughing obsequiously. " Lord, de fun ! To see 
 him stickin in de mud, chasin and tarin through de 
 bushes, dogs a-holdin on to him ! Lord, I laughed fit to 
 split, dat ar time we cotched Molly. I thought they d a 
 had her all stripped up afore I could get em off. She car s 
 de marks o dat ar spree yet." 
 
 " I reckon she will, to her grave," said Legree. " But 
 now, Sambo, you look sharp. If the nigger 7 s got anything 
 of this sort going, trip him up." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 179 
 
 " Mas r, let me lone for dat," said Sambo. " I 11 tree 
 de coon. Ho, ho, ho ! " 
 
 This was spoken as Legree was getting on to his horse 
 to go to the neighboring town. That night, as he was re 
 turning, he thought he would turn his horse and ride round 
 the quarters, and see if all was safe. 
 
 It was a superb moonlight night, and the shadows of 
 the graceful China-trees lay minutely penciled on the turf 
 below, and there was that transparent stillness in the air 
 which it seems almost unholy to disturb. Legree was at 
 a little distance from the quarters, wnen he heard the voice 
 of some one singing. It was not a usual sound there, and 
 he paused to listen. A musical tenor voice sang : 
 
 "When I can read my title clear 
 
 To mansions in the skies, 
 I 11 bid farewell to every fear, 
 And wipe my weeping eyes. 
 
 "Should earth against my soul engage, 
 
 And hellish darts be hurled, 
 
 Then I can smile at Satan s rage, 
 
 And face a frowning world. 
 
 "Let cares like a wild deluge come, 
 
 And storms of sorrow fall, 
 May I but safely reach my home, 
 My God, my Heaven, 1113^ All." 
 
 " So ho ! " said Legree to himself ; " he thinks so, does 
 he ? How I hate these cursed Methodist hymns ! Here, 
 you nigger," said he, coming suddenly out upon Tom, and 
 raising his riding- whip, " how dare you be gettin up this 
 yer row, when you ought to be in bed ? Shut yer old 
 black gash, and get along in with you ! " 
 
 " Yes, Mas r," said Tom, with ready cheerfulness, as he 
 rose to go in. 
 
 Legree was provoked beyond measure by Tom s evident 
 happiness ; and, riding up to him, belabored him over his 
 head and shoulders. 
 
180 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " There, you dog," he said, " see if you 11 feel so com 
 fortable after that ! " 
 
 But the blows fell now only on the outer man, and not, 
 as before, on the heart. Tom stood perfectly submissive ; and 
 yet Legree could not hide from himself that his power over 
 his bond thrall was somehow gone. And as Tom disap 
 peared in his cabin, and he wheeled his horse suddenly round, 
 there passed through his mind one of those vivid flashes that 
 often send the lightning of conscience across the dark and 
 wicked soul. He understood full well that it was GOD who 
 was standing between him and his victim, and he blasphemed 
 him. That submissive and silent man, whom taunts, nor 
 threats, nor stripes, nor cruelties could disturb, roused a 
 voice within him, such as of old his Master roused in the 
 demoniac soul, saying, " What have we to do with thee, 
 thou Jesus of Nazareth ? art thou come to torment us before 
 the time ? " 
 
 Tom s whole soul overflowed with compassion and sympa 
 thy for the poor wretches by whom he was surrounded. To 
 him it seemed as if his life sorrows were now over, and as 
 if, out of that strange treasury of peace and joy, with which 
 he had been endowed from above, he longed to pour out 
 something for the relief of their woes. It is true, oppor 
 tunities were scanty ; but on the way to the fields and back 
 again, and during the hours of labor, chances fell in his 
 way of extending a helping hand to the weary, the disheart 
 ened and discouraged. The poor, worn-down, brutalized 
 creatures at first could scarce comprehend this ; but when 
 it was continued week after week and month after month, 
 it began to awaken long-silent chords in their benumbed 
 hearts. Gradually and imperceptibly the strange, silent, 
 patient man, who was ready to bear every one s burden, and 
 sought help from none, who stood aside for all, and came 
 last and took least, yet was foremost to share his little all 
 with any who needed, the man who in cold nights would 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 181 
 
 give up his tattered blanket to add to the comfort of some 
 woman who shivered with sickness, and who filled the bas 
 kets of the weaker ones in the field, at the terrible risk of 
 coming short in his own measure, and who, though pur 
 sued with unrelenting cruelty by their common tyrant, never 
 joined in uttering a word of reviling or cursing, this man 
 at last began to have a strange power over them ; and when 
 the more pressing season was past, and they were allowed 
 again their Sundays for their own use, many would gather 
 together to hear from him of Jesus. They would gladly 
 have met to hear, and pray, and sing, in some place, together j 
 but Legree would not permit it, and more than once broke 
 up such attempts, with oaths and brutal execrations, so 
 that the blessed news had to circulate from individual to 
 individual. Yet who can speak the simple joy with which 
 some of these poor outcasts, to whom life was a joyless jour 
 ney to a dark unknown, heard of a compassionate Redeemer 
 and a heavenly home ? It is the statement of missionaries 
 that, of all races of the earth, none have received the gospel 
 with such eager docility as the African. The principle of 
 reliance and unquestioning faith, which is its foundation, is 
 more a native element in this race than any other ; and it 
 has often been found among them that a stray seed of truth, 
 borne on some breeze of accident into hearts the most igno 
 rant, has sprung up into fruit, whose abundance has shamed 
 that of higher and more skillful culture. 
 
 The poor mulatto woman, whose simple faith had been 
 well-nigh crushed and overwhelmed by the avalanche of 
 cruelty and wrong which had fallen upon her, felt her soul 
 raised up by the hymns and passages of Holy Writ, which 
 this lowly missionary breathed into her ear in intervals, as 
 they were going to and returning from work ; and even the 
 half-crazed and wandering mind of Cassy was soothed and 
 calmed by his simple and unobtrusive influences. 
 
 Stung to madness and despair by the crushing agonies of 
 
182 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OK 
 
 a life, Cassy had often resolved in her soul an hour of 
 retribution, when her hand should avenge on her oppressor 
 all the injustice and cruelty to which she had been witness, 
 or which she had in her own person suffered. 
 
 One night, after all in Tom s cabin were sunk in sleep, 
 he was suddenly aroused by seeing her face at the hole 
 between the logs, that served for a window. She made a 
 silent gesture for him to come out. 
 
 Tom came out the door. It was between one and two 
 o clock at night, broad, calm, still moonlight. Tom re 
 marked, as the light of the moon fell upon Cassy s large 
 black eyes, that there was a wild and peculiar glare in them, 
 unlike their wonted fixed despair. 
 
 " Come here, Father Tom," she said, laying her small 
 hand on his wrist, and drawing him forward with a force 
 as if the hand were of steel j " come here, I ve news 
 for you." 
 
 " What, Misse Cassy ? " said Tom anxiously. 
 
 " Tom, would n t you like your liberty ? " 
 
 " I shall have it, Misse, in God s time," said Tom. 
 
 " Ay, but you may have it to-night," said Cassy, with 
 a flash of sudden energy. " Come on." 
 
 Tom hesitated. 
 
 " Come ! " said she in a whisper, fixing her black eyes 
 on him. " Come along ! He s asleep sound. I put 
 enough into his brandy to keep him so. I wish I d had 
 more, I should n t have wanted you. But come, the 
 back door is unlocked ; there s an axe there I put it there, 
 his room door is open; I ll show you the way. I d 
 a done it myself, only my arms are so weak. Come 
 along ! " 
 
 " Not for ten thousand worlds, Misse ! " said Tom firmly, 
 stopping and holding her back, as she was pressing forward. 
 
 " But think of all these poor creatures," said Cassy. 
 "We might set them all free, and go somewhere in the 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 183 
 
 swamps, and find an island, and live by ourselves ; I ve 
 heard of its being done. Any life is better than this." 
 
 "No!" said Tom firmly. "No! good never comes of 
 wickedness. I d sooner chop my right hand off ! " 
 
 " Then / shall do it," said Gassy, turning. 
 
 " Oh, Misse Gassy ! " said Tom, throwing himself before 
 her, " for the dear Lord s sake that died for ye, don t sell 
 your precious soul to the devil that way ! Nothing but evil 
 will come of it. The Lord has n t called us to wrath. We 
 must suffer, and wait his time." 
 
 " Wait ! " said Gassy. " Have n t I waited ? waited 
 till my head is dizzy and my heart sick ? What has he 
 made me suffer ? What has he made hundreds of poor crea 
 tures suffer ? Is n t he wringing the life-blood out of you ? 
 I m called on ; they call me ! His time s come, and I 11 
 have his heart s blood ! " 
 
 " No, no, no ! " said Tom, holding her small hands, which 
 were clenched with spasmodic violence. " No, ye poor, lost 
 soul, that ye must n t do. The dear, blessed Lord never 
 shed no blood but his own, and that he poured out for us 
 when we was enemies. Lord, help us to follow his steps, 
 and love our enemies." 
 
 " Love ! " said Gassy, with a fierce glare ; " love such 
 enemies ! It is n t in flesh and blood." 
 
 " No, Misse, it is n t," said Tom, looking up ; " but He 
 gives it to us, and that s the victory. When we can love 
 and pray over all, and through all, the battle s past, and the 
 victory s come, glory be to God ! " And with streaming 
 eyes and choking voice the black man looked up to heaven. 
 
 And this, Africa ! latest called of nations, called 
 to the crown of thorns, the scourge, the bloody sweat, the 
 cross of agony, this is to be thy victory 5 by this shalt thou 
 reign with Christ when his kingdom shall come on earth. 
 
 The deep fervor of Tom s feelings, the softness of his 
 voice, his tears, fell like dew on the wild, unsettled spirit of 
 
184 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 the poor woman. A softness gathered over the lurid fires 
 of her eyes ; she looked down, and Tom could feel the relax 
 ing muscles of her hands, as she said, 
 
 " Did n t I tell you that evil spirits followed me ? Oh, 
 Father Tom, I can t pray, I wish I could. I never have 
 prayed since my children were sold ! What you say must 
 be right, I know it must ; but when I try to pray, I can 
 only hate and curse. I can t pray ! " 
 
 " Poor soul ! " said Tom compassionately. " Satan desires 
 to have ye, and sift ye as wheat. I pray the Lord for ye. 
 Oh, Misse Gassy, turn to the dear Lord Jesus. He came 
 to bind up the broken-hearted, and comfort all that mourn." 
 
 Gassy stood silent, while large, heavy tears dropped from 
 her downcast eyes. 
 
 " Misse Gassy," said Tom, in a hesitating tone, after sur 
 veying her a moment in silence, " if ye only could get away 
 from here, if the thing was possible, 1 d vise ye and 
 Emmeline to do it ; that is, if ye could go without blood- 
 guiltiness, not otherwise." 
 
 " Would you try with us, Father Tom ? " 
 
 " No," said Tom ; " time was when I would ; but the 
 Lord s given me a work among these yer poor souls, and 
 I 11 stay with em and bear my cross with ? em till the end. 
 It s different with you ; it s a snare to you, it s more n you 
 can stand, and you d better go, if you can." 
 
 " I know no way but through the grave," said Gassy. 
 " There s no beast or bird but can find a home somewhere ; 
 even the snakes and the alligators have their places to lie 
 down and be quiet ; but there s no place for us. Down in 
 the darkest swamps their dogs will hunt us out, and find 
 us. Everybody and everything is against us ; even the 
 very beasts side against us, and where shall we go ? " 
 
 Tom stood silent ; at length he said, 
 
 " Him that saved Daniel in the den of lions, that saved 
 the children in the fiery furnace, him that walked on the 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 185 
 
 sea, and bade the winds be still, he s alive yet ; and I ve 
 faith to believe he can deliver you. Try it, and I 11 pray, 
 with all my might, for you." 
 
 By what strange law of mind is it that an idea long over 
 looked, and trodden under foot as a useless stone, suddenly 
 sparkles out in new light, as a discovered diamond ? 
 
 Cassy had often revolved, for hours, all possible or pro 
 bable schemes of escape, and dismissed them all, as hopeless 
 and impracticable ; but at this moment there flashed through 
 her mind a plan, so simple and feasible in all its details as 
 to awaken an instant hope. 
 
 " Father Tom, I 11 try it ! " she said suddenly. 
 
 " Amen ! " said Tom ; " the Lord help ye ! " 
 
186 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 THE STRATAGEM 
 
 " The way of the wicked is as darkness ; he knoweth not at what he 
 stumbleth." 
 
 THE garret of the house that Legree occupied, like most 
 other garrets, was a great, desolate space, dusty, hung with 
 cobwebs, and littered with cast-off lumber. The opulent 
 family that had inhabited the house in the days of its splen 
 dor had imported a great deal of splendid furniture, some of 
 which they had taken away with them, while some remained 
 standing desolate in mouldering, unoccupied rooms, or stored 
 away in this place. One or two immense packing-boxes, in 
 which this furniture was brought, stood against the sides of 
 the garret. There was a small window there, which let in 
 through its dingy, dusty panes a scanty, uncertain light on 
 the tall, high-backed chairs and dusty tables, that had once 
 seen better days. Altogether, it was a weird and ghostly 
 place ; but, ghostly as it was, it wanted not in legends among 
 the superstitious negroes, to increase its terrors. Some few 
 years before, a negro woman, who had incurred Legree s dis 
 pleasure, was confined there for several weeks. What passed 
 there, we do not say ; the negroes used to whisper darkly 
 to each other ; but it was known that the body of the unfor 
 tunate creature was one day taken down from there and bur 
 ied ; and after that, it was said that oaths and cursings, and 
 the sound of violent blows, used to ring through that old 
 garret, and mingled with wailings and groans of despair. 
 Once, when Legree chanced to overhear something of this 
 kind, he flew into a violent passion, and swore that the next 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 187 
 
 one that told stories about that garret should have an op 
 portunity of knowing what was there, for he would chain 
 them up there for a week. This hint was enough to repress 
 talking, though, of course, it did not disturb the credit of 
 the story in the least. 
 
 Gradually, the staircase that led to the garret, and even 
 the passage-way to the staircase, was avoided by every one 
 in the house, from every one fearing to speak of it, and the 
 legend was gradually falling into desuetude. It had sud 
 denly occurred to Gassy to make use of the superstitious 
 excitability, which was so great in Legree, for the purpose 
 of her liberation and that of her fellow sufferer. 
 
 The sleeping-room of Cassy was directly under the garret. 
 One day, without consulting Legree, she suddenly took it 
 upon her, with some considerable ostentation, to change all 
 the furniture and appurtenances of the room to one at some 
 considerable distance. The under-servants, who were called 
 on to effect this movement, were -running and bustling about 
 with great zeal and confusion, when Legree returned from 
 a ride. 
 
 " Hallo ! you Cass ! " said Legree, " what s in the wind 
 now ? " 
 
 " Nothing ; only I choose to have another room," said 
 Cassy doggedly. 
 
 " And what for, pray ? " said Legree. 
 
 " I choose to," said Cassy. 
 
 " The devil you do ! and what for ? " 
 
 " I ? d like to get some sleep now and then." 
 
 " Sleep ! well, what hinders your sleeping ? " 
 
 " I could tell, I suppose, if you want to hear," said 
 Cassy dryly. 
 
 " Speak out, you minx ! " said Legree. 
 
 " Oh ! nothing. I suppose it would n t disturb you ! 
 Only groans, and people scuffing, and rolling round on the 
 garret floor, half the night, from twelve to morning ! " 
 
188 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " People up garret ! " said Legree uneasily, but forcing 
 a laugh ; " who are they, Gassy ? " 
 
 Cassy raised her sharp, black eyes, and looked in the 
 face of Legree with an expression that went through his 
 bones as she said, " To be sure, Simon, who are they ? 
 I d like to have you tell me. You don t know, I sup 
 pose ! " 
 
 With an oath, Legree struck at her with his riding-whip ; 
 but she glided to one side, and passed through the door, 
 and looking back, said, " If you 11 sleep in that room, you 11 
 know all about it. Perhaps you d better try it ! " and 
 then immediately she shut and locked the door. 
 
 Legree blustered and swore, and threatened to break 
 down the door ; but apparently thought better of it, and 
 walked uneasily into the sitting-room. Cassy perceived 
 that her shaft had struck home ; and from that hour, with 
 the most exquisite address, she never ceased to continue 
 the train of influences she had begun. 
 
 In a knot-hole in the garret she had inserted the neck 
 of an old bottle, in such a manner that when there was the 
 least wind most doleful and lugubrious wailing sounds pro 
 ceeded from it, which, in a high wind, increased to a perfect 
 shriek, such as to credulous and superstitious ears might 
 easily seem to be that of horror and despair. 
 
 These sounds were from time to time heard by the ser 
 vants, and revived in full force the memory of the old ghost 
 legend. A superstitious creeping horror seemed to fill the 
 house ; and though no one dared to breathe it to Legree, he 
 found himself encompassed by it, as by an atmosphere. 
 
 No one is so thoroughly superstitious as the godless man. 
 The Christian is composed by the belief of a wise, all-ruling 
 Father, whose presence fills the void unknown with light 
 and order ; but to the man who has dethroned God, the 
 spirit land is, indeed, in the words of the Hebrew poet, " a 
 land of darkness and the shadow of death/ without any 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 189 
 
 order, where the light is as darkness. Life and death to 
 him are haunted grounds, filled with goblin forms of vague 
 and shadowy dread. 
 
 Legree had had the slumbering moral element in him 
 roused by his encounters with Tom, roused, only to be 
 resisted by the determinate force of evil ; but still there was 
 a thrill and commotion of the dark, inner world produced 
 by every word, or prayer, or hymn, that reacted in supersti 
 tious dread. 
 
 The influence of Cassy over him was of a strange and 
 singular kind. He was her owner, her tyrant and tormentor. 
 She was, as he knew, wholly, and without any possibility 
 of help or redress, in his hands ; and yet so it is, that the 
 most brutal man cannot live in constant association with a 
 strong female influence and not be greatly controlled by it. 
 When he first bought her, she was, as she had said, a woman 
 delicately bred ; and then he crushed her, without scruple, 
 beneath the foot of his brutality. But as time, and debas 
 ing influences, and despair hardened womanhood within her, 
 and waked the fires of fiercer passions, she had become in a 
 measure his mistress, and he alternately tyrannized over and 
 dreaded her. 
 
 This influence had become more harassing and decided 
 since partial insanity had given a strange, weird, unsettled 
 cast to all her words and language. 
 
 A night or two after this, Legree was sitting in the old 
 sitting-room, by the side of a flickering wood fire, that threw 
 uncertain glances round the room. It was a stormy, windy 
 night, such as raises whole squadrons of nondescript noises 
 in rickety old houses. Windows were rattling, shutters 
 flapping, the wind carousing, rumbling, and tumbling down 
 the chimney, and every once in a while puffing out smoke 
 and ashes, as if a legion of spirits were coming after them. 
 Legree had been casting up accounts and reading newspapers 
 for some hours, while Cassy sat in the corner, sullenly look- 
 
190 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 ing into the fire. Legree laid down his paper, and seeing 
 an old book lying on the table, which he had noticed Gassy 
 reading the first part of the evening, took it up, and began 
 to turn it over. It was one of those collections of stories 
 of bloody murders, ghostly legends, and supernatural visita 
 tions, which, coarsely got up and illustrated, have a strange 
 fascination for one who once begins to read them. 
 
 Legree poohed and pished, but read, turning page after 
 page, till, finally, after reading some way, he threw down 
 the book, with an oath. 
 
 " You don t believe in ghosts, do you, Cass ? " said he, 
 taking the tongs and settling the fire. " I thought you d 
 more sense than to let noises scare yon" 
 
 " No matter what I believe," said Gassy sullenly. 
 
 " Fellows used to try to frighten me with their yarns at 
 sea," said Legree. " Never come it round me that way. 
 I m too tough for any such trash, tell ye." 
 
 Gassy sat looking intensely at him in the shadow of the 
 corner. There was that strange light in her eyes that always 
 impressed Legree with uneasiness. 
 
 " Them noises was nothing but rats and the wind," said 
 Legree. " Eats will make a dovil of a noise. I used to hear 
 ? em sometimes down in the hold of the ship ; and wind, 
 Lord s sake ! ye can make anything out o wind." 
 
 Gassy knew Legree was uneasy under her eyes, and, there 
 fore, she made no answer, but sat fixing them on him, with 
 that strange, unearthly expression as before. 
 
 " Come, speak out, woman, don t you think so ? " said 
 Legree. 
 
 " Can rats walk downstairs, and come walking through 
 the entry, and open a door when you ve locked it and set a 
 chair against it ? " said Gassy ; " and come walk, walk, walk 
 ing right up to your bed, and put out their hand, so ? " 
 
 Gassy kept her glittering eyes fixed on Legree, as she 
 spoke, and he stared at her like a man in the nightmare, till, 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 191 
 
 when she finished by laying her hand, icy cold, on his, he 
 sprung back, with an oath. 
 
 " Woman ! what do you mean ? Nobody did ! " 
 
 " Oh, no, of course not, did I say they did ? " said 
 Cassy with a smile of chilling derision. 
 
 " But did have you really seen ? Come, Cass, 
 what is it, now, speak out ! " 
 
 " You may sleep there yourself," said Cassy, " if you 
 want to know." 
 
 " Did it come from the garret, Cassy ? " 
 
 " It what ? " said Cassy. 
 
 " Why, what you told of " - 
 
 " I did n t tell you anything," said Cassy with dogged 
 sullenness. 
 
 Legree walked up and down the room uneasily. 
 
 " I 11 have this yer thing examined. I 11 look into it 
 this very night. I 11 take my pistols " 
 
 " Do," said Cassy ; " sleep in that room. I d like to see 
 you doing it. Fire your pistols, do ! " 
 
 Legree stamped his foot, and swore violently. 
 
 " Don t swear," said Cassy ; " nobody knows who may 
 be hearing you. Hark ! What was that ? " 
 
 " What ? " said Legree, starting. 
 
 A heavy old Dutch clock, that stood in the corner of the 
 room, began, and slowly struck twelve. 
 
 For some reason or other, Legree neither spoke nor 
 moved ; a vague horror fell on him ; while Cassy, with a 
 keen, sneering glitter in her eyes, stood looking at him, 
 counting the strokes. 
 
 " Twelve o clock ; well, now we 11 see," said she, turn 
 ing, and opening the door into the passage-way, and stand 
 ing as if listening. 
 
 " Hark ! What s that ? " said she, raising her finger. 
 
 " It s only the wind," said Legree. " Don t you hear 
 how cursedly it blows ? " 
 
192 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Simon, come here," said Cassy, in a whisper, laying 
 her hand on his, and leading him to the foot of the stairs ; 
 " do yon know what that is ? Hark ! " 
 
 A wild shriek came pealing down the stairway. It 
 came from the garret. Legree s knees knocked together ; 
 his face grew white with fear. 
 
 " Had n t you better get your pistols ? " said Cassy, 
 with a sneer that froze Legree s blood. " It s time this 
 thing was looked into, you know. I d like to have you go 
 up now ; they re at it" 
 
 " I won t go ! " said Legree, with an oath. 
 
 " Why not ? There ain t any such thing as ghosts, you 
 know ! Come ! " and Cassy flitted up the winding stair 
 way, laughing, and looking back after him. "Come on." 
 
 " I believe you are the devil ! " said Legree. " Come 
 back, you hag, come back, Cass ! You sha n t go ! " 
 
 But Cassy laughed wildly, and fled on. He heard her 
 open the entry doors that led to the garret. A wild gust 
 of wind swept down, extinguishing the candle he held in 
 his hand, and with it the fearful, unearthly screams ; they 
 seemed to be shrieked in his very ear. 
 
 Legree fled frantically into the parlor, whither, in a few 
 moments, he was followed by Cassy, pale, calm, cold as an 
 avenging spirit, and with that same fearful light in her 
 eye. 
 
 " I hope you are satisfied," said she. 
 
 " Blast you, Cass ! " said Legree. 
 
 " What for ? " said Cassy. " I only went up and shut 
 the doors. What s the matter with that garret, Simon, 
 do you suppose ? " said she. 
 
 " None of your business ! " said Legree. 
 
 " Oh, it ain t ? Well," said Cassy, " at any rate, I m 
 glad I don t sleep under it." 
 
 Anticipating the rising of the wind, that very evening 
 Cassy had been up and opened the garret window. Of 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 193 
 
 course, the moment the doors were opened, the wind had 
 drafted down, and extinguished the light. 
 
 This may serve as a specimen of the game that Gassy 
 played with Legree, until he would sooner have put his 
 head into a lion s mouth than to have explored that garret. 
 Meanwhile, in the night, when everybody else was asleep, 
 Cassy slowly and carefully accumulated there a stock of 
 provisions sufficient to afford subsistence for some time ; she 
 transferred, article by article, a greater part of her own and 
 Emmeline a wardrobe. All things being arranged, they only 
 waited a fitting opportunity to put their plan in execution. 
 
 By cajoling Legree, and taking advantage of a good-na 
 tured interval, Gassy had got him to take her with him to the 
 neighboring town, which was situated directly on the Red 
 River. With a memory sharpened to almost preternatural 
 clearness, she remarked every turn in the road, and formed 
 a mental estimate of the time to be occupied in traversing it. 
 
 At the time when all was matured for action, our readers 
 may, perhaps, like to look behind the scenes, and see the 
 final coup d etat. 
 
 It was now near evening. Legree had been absent, on a 
 ride to a neighboring farm. For many days Cassy had been 
 unusually gracious and accommodating in her humors ; and 
 Legree and she had been apparently on the best of terms. 
 At present, we may behold her and Emmeline in the 
 room of the latter, busy in sorting and arranging two small 
 bundles. 
 
 " There, these will be large enough," said Gassy. "Now 
 put on your bonnet, and let s start: it s just about the 
 right time." 
 
 " Why, they can see us yet," said Emmeline. 
 
 "I mean they shall," said Cassy coolly. "Don t you 
 know that they must have their chase after us, at any rate ? 
 The way of the thing is to be just this : We will steal out 
 of the back door, and run down by the quarters. Sambo 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
194 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 or Quimbo will be sure to see us. They will give chase, 
 and we will get into the swamp ; then, they can t follow us 
 any further till they go up and give the alarm, and turn out 
 the dogs, and so on ; and while they are blundering round, 
 and tumbling over each other, as they always do, you and 
 I will just slip along to the creek, that runs back of the 
 house, and wade along in it, till we get opposite the back 
 door. That will put the dogs all at fault ; for scent won t 
 lie in the water. Every one will run out of the house to 
 look after us, and then we 11 whip in at the back door, and 
 up into the garret, where I ve got a nice bed made up in 
 one of the great boxes. We must stay in that garret a good 
 while ; for, I tell you, he will raise heaven and earth after 
 us. He 11 muster some of those old overseers on the other 
 plantations, and have a great hunt ; and they 11 go over 
 every inch of ground in that swamp. He makes it his boast 
 that nobody ever got away from him. So let him hunt at 
 his leisure." 
 
 " Gassy, how well you have planned it ! " said Emme- 
 line. " Who ever would have thought of it but you ? " 
 
 There was neither pleasure nor exultation in Cassy s eyes, 
 only a despairing firmness. 
 
 " Come," she said, reaching her hand to Emmeline. 
 
 The two fugitives glided noiselessly from the house, and 
 flitted, through the gathering shadows of evening, along by 
 the quarters. The crescent moon, set like a silver signet 
 in the western sky, delayed a little the approach of night. 
 As Gassy expected, when quite near the verge of the swamps 
 that encircled the plantation, they heard a voice calling to 
 them to stop. It was not Sambo, however, but Legree, who 
 was pursuing them with violent execrations. At the sound, 
 the feebler spirit of Emmeline gave way ; and, laying hold 
 of Cassy s arm, she said, " Oh, Gassy, I m going to faint ! " 
 
 " If you do, I 11 kill you ! " said Gassy, drawing a small, 
 glittering stiletto, and flashing it before the eyes of the girl. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 195 
 
 The diversion accomplished the purpose. Emmeline did 
 not faint, and succeeded in plunging, with Gassy, into a part 
 of the labyrinth of swamp, so deep and dark that it was per 
 fectly hopeless for Legree to think of following them with 
 out assistance. 
 
 " Well," said he, chuckling brutally ; " at any rate, they ve 
 got themselves into a trap now the baggages ! They re 
 safe enough. They shall sweat for it ! " 
 
 " Hulloa, there ! Sambo ! Quimbo ! All hands ! " called 
 Legree, coming to the quarters, when the men and women 
 were just returning from work. " There s two runaways 
 in the swamps. I 11 give five dollars to any nigger as catches 
 em. Turn out the dogs ! Turn out Tiger, and Fury, and 
 the rest ! " 
 
 The sensation produced by this news was immediate. 
 Many of the men sprang forward, officiously, to offer their 
 services, either from the hope of the reward, or from that 
 cringing subserviency which is one of the most baleful effects 
 of slavery. Some ran one way, and some another. Some 
 were for getting flambeaux of pine-knots. Some were un 
 coupling the dogs, whose hoarse, savage bay added not a 
 little to the animation of the scene. 
 
 " Mas r, shall we shoot em, if we can t cotch em ? " 
 said Sambo, to whom his master brought out a rifle. 
 
 " You may fire on Cass if you like ; it s time she was 
 gone to the devil, where she belongs ; but the gal not," said 
 Legree. " And now, boys, be spry and smart. Five dol 
 lars for him that gets em, and a glass of spirits to every 
 one of you anyhow." 
 
 The whole band, with the glare of blazing torches, and 
 whoop, and shout, and savage yell, of man and beast, pro 
 ceeded down to the swamp, followed at some distance by 
 every servant in the house. The establishment was, of a 
 consequence, wholly deserted, when Cassy and Emmeline 
 glided into it the back way. The whooping and shouts of 
 
196 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 their pursuers were still filling the air ; and, looking from 
 the sitting-room windows, Cassy and Emmeline could see 
 the troop, with their flambeaux, just dispersing themselves 
 along the edge of the swamp. 
 
 " See there ! " said Emmeline, pointing to Cassy ; " the 
 hunt is begun ! Look how those lights dance about ! 
 Hark ! the dogs ! Don t you hear ? If we were only 
 there, our chance would n t be worth a picayune. Oh, for 
 pity s sake, do let s hide ourselves. Quick ! " 
 
 " There s no occasion for hurry," said Cassy coolly ; 
 " they are all out after the hunt, that s the amusement 
 of the evening ! We 11 go upstairs by and by. Mean 
 while," said she, deliberately taking a key from the pocket 
 of a coat that Legree had thrown down in his hurry, 
 " meanwhile I shall take something to pay our passage." 
 
 She unlocked the desk, took from it a roll of bills, which 
 she counted over rapidly. 
 
 " Oh, don t let s do that ! " said Emmeline. 
 
 " Don t ! " said Cassy ; " why not ? Would you have 
 us starve in the swamps, or have that that will pay our 
 way to the free States ? Money will do anything, girl." 
 And as she spoke, she put the money in her bosom. 
 
 " It would be stealing," said Emmeline, in a distressed 
 whisper. 
 
 " Stealing ! " said Cassy, with a scornful laugh. " They 
 who steal body and soul need n t talk to us. Every one of 
 these bills is stolen, stolen from poor, starving, sweating 
 creatures, who must go to the devil at last, for his profit. 
 Let him talk about stealing ! But come, we may as well 
 go up garret ; I ve got a stock of candles there, and some 
 books to pass away the time. You may be pretty sure 
 they won t come there to inquire after us. If they do, I 11 
 play ghost for them." 
 
 When Emmeline reached the garret, she found an ^im 
 mense box, in which some heavy pieces of furniture had 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOAVLY 197 
 
 once been brought, turned on its side, so that the opening 
 faced the wall, or rather the eaves. Cassy lit a small lamp, 
 and, creeping round under the eaves, they established them 
 selves in it. It was spread with a couple of small mat 
 tresses and some pillows ; a box near by was plentifully 
 stored with candles, provisions, and all the clothing neces 
 sary to their journey, which Cassy had arranged into bundles 
 of an astonishingly small compass. 
 
 " There," said Cassy, as she fixed the lamp into a small 
 hook, which she had driven into the side of the box for 
 that purpose; "this is to be our home for the present. 
 How do you like it ? " 
 
 " Are you sure they won t come and search the garret ? " 
 
 " I d like to see Simon Legree doing that," said Cassy. 
 " No, indeed ; he will be too glad to keep away. As to 
 the servants, they would any of them stand and be shot 
 sooner than show their faces here." 
 
 Somewhat reassured, Emmeline settled herself back on 
 her pillow. 
 
 " What did you mean, Cassy, by saying you would kill 
 me ? " she said simply. 
 
 " I meant to stop your fainting," said Cassy, " and I did 
 do it. And now I tell you, Emmeline, you must make up 
 your mind not to faint, let what will come ; there s no sort 
 of need of it. If 1 had not stopped you, that wretch might 
 have had his hands on you now." 
 
 Emmeline shuddered. 
 
 The two remained some time in silence. Cassy busied 
 herself with a French book ; Emmeline, overcome with the 
 exhaustion, fell into a doze, and slept some time. She 
 was awakened by loud shouts and outcries, the tramp of 
 horses feet, and the baying of dogs. She started up, with 
 a faint shriek. 
 
 " Only the hunt coming back," said Cassy coolly ; " never 
 fear. Look out of this knot-hole. Don t you see em all 
 
198 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 down there ? Simon has to give it up, for this night. 
 Look, how muddy his horse is, flouncing about in the 
 swamp ; the dogs, too, look rather crestfallen. Ah, my 
 good sir, you 11 have to try the race again and again the 
 game is n t there." 
 
 " Oh, don t speak a word ! " said Emmeline ; " what if 
 they should hear you ? " 
 
 " If they do hear anything, it will make them very par 
 ticular to keep away," said Gassy. " No danger ; we may 
 make any noise we please, and it will only add to the 
 effect." 
 
 At length the stillness of midnight settled down over the 
 house. Legree, cursing his ill luck, and vowing dire ven 
 geance on the morrow, went to bed. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 199 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE MARTYR 
 
 " Deem not the just by Heaven forgot ! 
 
 Though life its common gifts deny, 
 Though, with a crushed and bleeding heart, 
 
 And spurned of man, he goes to die ! 
 For God hath marked each sorrowing day, 
 
 And numbered every bitter tear; 
 And heaven s long years of bliss shall pay 
 For all his children suffer here." 
 
 BRYANT. 
 
 THE longest way must have its close, the gloomiest 
 night will wear on to a morning. An eternal, inexorable 
 lapse of moments is ever hurrying the day of the evil to an 
 eternal night, and the night of the just to an eternal day. 
 We have walked with our humble friend thus far in the 
 valley of slavery ; first through flowery fields of ease and 
 indulgence, then through heart-breaking separations from all 
 that man holds dear. Again, we have waited with him in a 
 sunny island, where generous hands concealed his chains 
 with flowers ; and, lastly, we have followed him when the 
 last ray of earthly hope went out in night, and seen how, in 
 the blackness of earthly darkness, the firmament of the un 
 seen has blazed with stars of new and significant lustre. 
 
 The morning star now stands over the tops of the 
 mountains, and gales and breezes, not of earth, show that 
 the gates of day are unclosing. 
 
 The escape of Gassy and Emmeline irritated the before 
 surly temper of Legree to the last degree ; and his fury, as 
 was to be expected, fell upon the defenseless head of Tom. 
 When he hurriedly announced the tidings among his hands, 
 
200 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 there was a sudden light in Tom s eye, a sudden upraising 
 of his hands, that did not escape him. He saw that he did 
 not join the muster of the pursuers. He thought of forcing 
 him to do it; but having had, of old, experience of his in 
 flexibility when commanded to take part in any deed of 
 inhumanity, he would not, in his hurry, stop to enter into 
 any conflict with him. 
 
 Tom, therefore, remained behind, with a few who had 
 learned of him to pray, and offered up prayers for the escape 
 of the fugitives. 
 
 When Legree returned, baffled and disappointed, all the 
 long-working hatred of his soul towards his slave began to 
 gather in a deadly and desperate form. Had not this man 
 braved him, steadily, powerfully, resistlessly, ever since 
 he bought him? Was there not a spirit in him which, 
 silent as it was, burned on him like the fires of perdition ? 
 
 " I hate him ! " said Legree that night, as he sat up in 
 his bed ; " I hate him ! And is n t he MINE ? Can t 1 do 
 what I like with him ? Who s to hinder, I wonder ? " 
 And Legree clenched his fist, and shook it, as if he had 
 something in his hands that he could rend in pieces. 
 
 But, then, Tom was a faithful, valuable servant ; and 
 although Legree hated him the more for that, yet the con 
 sideration was still somewhat of a restraint to him. 
 
 The next morning, he determined to say nothing as yet ; 
 to assemble a party from some neighboring plantations, 
 with dogs and guns ; to surround the swamp, and go about 
 the hunt systematically. If it succeeded, well and good ; 
 if not, he would summon Tom before him, and his teeth 
 clenched and his blood boiled then he would break that 
 fellow down, or there was a dire inward whisper, to 
 which his soul assented. 
 
 Ye say that the interest of the master is a sufficient safe 
 guard for the slave. In the fury of man s mad will, he 
 will wittingly, and with open eye, sell his own soul to the 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 201 
 
 devil to gain his ends ; and will he be more careful of his 
 neighbor s body ? 
 
 " Well," said Gassy, the next day, from the garret, as 
 she reconnoitred through the knot-hole, " the hunt s going 
 to begin again to-day ! " 
 
 Three or four mounted horsemen were curveting about, 
 on the space in front of the house ; and one or two leashes 
 of strange dogs were struggling with the negroes who held 
 them, baying and barking at each other. 
 
 The men are, two of them, overseers of plantations in 
 the vicinity ; and others were some of Legree s associates 
 at the tavern-bar of a neighboring city, who had come for 
 the interest of the sport. A more hard-favored set, per 
 haps, could not be imagined. Legree was serving brandy, 
 profusely, round among them, as also among the negroes, 
 who had been detailed from the various plantations for this 
 service ; for it was an object to make every service of 
 this kind, among the negroes, as much of a holiday as 
 possible. 
 
 Cassy placed her ear at the knot-hole ; and as the morn 
 ing air blew directly towards the house, she could overhear 
 a good deal of the conversation. A grave sneer overcast 
 the dark, severe gravity of her face as she listened, and 
 heard them divide out the ground, discuss the rival merits 
 of the dogs, give orders about firing, and the treatment of 
 each in case of capture. 
 
 Cassy drew back ; and, clasping her hands, looked up 
 ward, and said, " great Almighty God ! we are all sin 
 ners ; but what have we done, more than all the rest of the 
 world, that we should be treated so ? " 
 
 There was a terrible earnestness in her face and voice as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " If it was n t for you, child," she said, looking at Em- 
 meline, " I M go out to them ; and I d thank any one of 
 them that would shoot me down ; for what use will free- 
 
202 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 dom be to me ? Can it give me back my children, or make 
 me what I used to be ? " 
 
 Emmeline, in her childlike simplicity, was half afraid of 
 the dark moods of Cassy. She looked perplexed, but made 
 no answer. She only took her hand, with a gentle, caress 
 ing movement. 
 
 " Don t ! " said Cassy, trying to draw it away ; " you 11 
 get me to loving you ; and I never mean to love anything 
 again ! " 
 
 " Poor Cassy ! " said Emmeline, " don t feel so ! If the 
 Lord gives us liberty, perhaps he 11 give you back your 
 daughter ; at any rate, I 11 be like a daughter to you. I 
 know I 11 never see my poor old mother again ! I shall 
 love you, Cassy, whether you love me or not ! " 
 
 The gentle, childlike spirit conquered. Cassy sat down 
 by her, put her arm round her neck, stroked her soft, brown 
 hair ; and Emmeline then wondered at the beauty of her 
 magnificent eyes, now soft with tears. 
 
 " Oh, Em ! " said Cassy. " I ve hungered for my chil 
 dren, and thirsted for them, and my eyes fail with longing 
 for them ! Here ! here ! " she said, striking her breast, " it s 
 all desolate, all empty ! If God would give me back my 
 children, then I could pray." 
 
 " You must trust him, Cassy," said Emmeline ; " he is our 
 Father ! " 
 
 " His wrath is upon us," said Cassy ; " he has turned 
 away in anger." 
 
 " No, Cassy ! He will be good to us ! Let us hope in 
 him," said Emmeline ; " I always have had hope." 
 
 The hunt was long, animated, and thorough, but unsuc 
 cessful, and with grave, ironic exultation, Cassy looked down 
 on Legree, as, weary and dispirited, he alighted from his 
 horse. 
 
 "Now, Quimbo," said Legree, as he stretched himself 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 203 
 
 down in the sitting-room, li you jest go and walk that Tom 
 up here right away ! The old cuss is at the bottom of this 
 yer whole matter ; and I 11 have it out of his old black hide, 
 or I 11 know the reason why." 
 
 Sambo and Quimbo both, though hating each other, were 
 joined in one mind by a no less cordial hatred of Tom. Le- 
 gree had told them at first that he had bought him for a 
 general overseer in his absence ; and this had begun an ill 
 will, on their part, which had increased, in their debased 
 and servile natures, as they saw him becoming obnoxious to 
 their master s displeasure. Quimbo, therefore, departed with 
 a will, to execute his orders. 
 
 Tom heard the message with a forewarning heart ; for he 
 knew all the plan of the fugitives escape, and the place of 
 their present concealment ; he knew the deadly character of 
 the man he had to deal with, and his despotic power. But 
 he felt strong in God to meet death rather than betray the 
 helpless. 
 
 He set his basket down by the row, and, looking up, said, 
 " Into thy hands I commend my spirit ! Thou hast re 
 deemed me, Lord God of truth ! " and then quietly yielded 
 himself to the rough, brutal grasp with which Quimbo seized 
 him. 
 
 "Ay, ay !" said the giant, as he dragged him along; 
 " ye 11 cotch it now ! I 11 boun Mas r s back s up hiyh ! 
 No sneaking out now ! Tell ye, ye 11 get it, and no mis 
 take ! See how ye 11 look, now, helpin Mas r s niggers to 
 run away ! See what ye 11 get ! " 
 
 The savage words none of them reached that ear ! a 
 higher voice there was saying, " Fear not them that kill 
 the body, and after that have no more that they can do." 
 Nerve and bone of that poor man s body vibrated to those 
 words, as if touched by the finger of God 5 and he felt the 
 strength of a thousand souls in one. As he passed along, 
 the trees and bushes, the huts of his servitude, the whole 
 
204 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 scene of his degradation, seemed to whirl hy him as the land 
 scape by the rushing car. His soul throbbed, his home 
 was in sight, and the hour of release seemed at hand. 
 
 " Well, Tom ! " said Legree, walking up, and seizing him 
 grimly by the collar of his coat, and speaking through his 
 teeth, in a paroxysm of determined rage, " do you know I ve 
 made up my mind to KILL you ? " 
 
 " It s very likely, Mas r," said Tom calmly. 
 
 " I have" said Legree, with grim, terrible calmness, 
 "done just that thing, Tom, unless you ll tell me 
 what you know about these yer gals ! " 
 
 Tom stood silent. 
 
 " D ye hear ? " said Legree, stamping, with a roar like 
 that of an incensed lion. " Speak ! " 
 
 " / hain t got nothing to tell, Mas r" said Tom, with a 
 slow, firm, deliberate utterance. 
 
 " Do you dare to tell me, ye old black Christian, ye don t 
 know ? " said Legree. 
 
 Tom was silent. 
 
 " Speak ! " thundered Legree, striking him furiously. " Do 
 you know anything ? " 
 
 " I know, Mas r ; but I can t tell anything. / can 
 die ! " 
 
 Legree drew in a long breath ; and, suppressing his rage, 
 took Tom by the arm, and, approaching his face almost to 
 his, said in a terrible voice, " Hark e, Tom ! ye think 
 cause I ve let you off before I don t mean what I say ; but, 
 this time I ve made up my mind, and counted the cost. 
 You ve always stood it out agin me: now, I ll conquer 
 ye or kill ye ! one or t other. I 11 count every drop of 
 blood there is in you, and take em, one by one, till ye give 
 up ! " 
 
 Tom looked up to his master, and answered, " Mas r, if 
 you was sick, or in trouble, or dying, and I could save ye, 
 I d give ye my heart s blood ; and, if taking every drop of 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 205 
 
 blood in this poor old body would save your precious soul, 
 I d give em freely, as the Lord gave his for me. Oh, 
 Mas r ! don t bring this great sin on your soul ! It will 
 hurt you more than t will me ! Do the worst you can, my 
 troubles 11 be over soon ; but if ye don t repent yours 
 won t never end ! " 
 
 Like a strange snatch of heavenly music, heard in the 
 lull of a tempest, this burst of feeling made a moment s 
 blank pause. Legree stood aghast, and looked at Tom ; 
 and there was such a silence that the tick of the old clock 
 could be heard, measuring, with silent touch, the last mo 
 ments of mercy and probation to that hardened heart. 
 
 It was but a moment. There was one hesitating pause, 
 one irresolute, relenting thrill, and the spirit of evil 
 came back, with sevenfold vehemence ; and Legree, foaming 
 with rage, smote his victim to the ground. 
 
 Scenes of blood and cruelty are shocking to our ear and 
 heart. What man has nerve to do, man has not nerve to 
 hear. What brother man and brother Christian must suffer 
 cannot be told us, even in our secret chamber, it so harrows 
 up the soul ! And yet, my country ! these things are 
 done under the shadow of thy laws ! Christ ! thy church 
 sees them, almost in silence ! 
 
 But, of old, there was One whose suffering changed an 
 instrument of torture, degradation, and shame, into a sym 
 bol of glory, honor, and immortal life ; and, where his 
 spirit is, neither degrading stripes, nor blood, nor insults 
 can make the Christian s last struggle less than glorious. 
 
 Was he alone that long night, whose brave, loving spirit 
 was bearing up, in that old shed, against buffeting and 
 brutal stripes ? 
 
 Nay ! There stood by him ONE, seen by him alone, 
 " like unto the Son of God." 
 
 The tempter stood by him, too, blinded by furious, 
 
206 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 despotic will, every moment pressing him to shun that 
 agony by the betrayal of the innocent. But the brave, true 
 heart was firm on the Eternal Rock. Like his Master, he 
 knew that, if he saved others, himself he could not save ; 
 nor could utmost extremity wring from him words save of 
 prayer and holy trust. 
 
 " He s most gone, Mas r," said Sambo, touched, in spite 
 of himself, by the patience of his victim. 
 
 " Pay away, till he gives up ! Give it to him ! give it 
 to him ! " shouted Legree. " I 11 take every drop of blood 
 he has, unless he confesses ! " 
 
 Tom opened his eyes, and looked upon his master. " Ye 
 poor miserable crittur ! " he said, " there ain t no more ye 
 can do ! I forgive ye, with all my soul ! " and he fainted 
 entirely away. 
 
 " I b lieve, my soul, he s done for finally," said Legree, 
 stepping forward to look at him. " Yes, he is ! Well, his 
 mouth s shut up at last, that s one comfort ! " 
 
 Yes, Legree ; but who shall shut up that voice in thy 
 soul ? that soul, past repentance, past prayer, past hope, 
 in whom the fire that never shall be quenched is already 
 burning ! 
 
 Yet Tom was not quite gone. His wondrous words and 
 pious prayers had struck upon the hearts of the imbruted 
 blacks, who had been the instruments of cruelty upon him ; 
 and, the instant Legree withdrew, they took him down, 
 and, in their ignorance, sought to call him back to life, 
 as if that were any favor to him. 
 
 " Sartin, we s been doin a drefful wicked thing ! " said 
 Sambo ; " hopes Mas r 11 have to count for it, and not we." 
 
 They washed his wounds, they provided a rude bed, of 
 some refuse cotton, for him to lie down on ; and one of them, 
 stealing up to the house, begged a drink of brandy of 
 Legree, pretending that he was tired, and wanted it for him 
 self. He brought it back, and poured it down Tom s throat. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 207 
 
 " Oh, Tom ! " said Quimbo, " we s been awful wicked to 
 ye!" 
 
 " I forgive ye, with all my heart ! " said Tom faintly. 
 
 " Oh, Tom ! do tell us who is Jesus, anyhow ? " said 
 Sambo, " Jesus, that s been a-standin by you so all this 
 night ? Who is he ? " 
 
 The word roused the failing, fainting spirit. He poured 
 forth a few energetic sentences of that wondrous One, his 
 life, his death, his everlasting presence, and power to save. 
 
 They wept, both the two savage men. 
 
 " Why did n t I never hear this before ? " said Sambo ; 
 " but I do believe ! I can t help it ! Lord Jesus, have 
 mercy on us ! " 
 
 " Poor critturs ! " said Tom ; " I d be willin to bar all I 
 have, if it 11 only bring ye to Christ ! Lord ! give me 
 these two more souls, I pray ! " 
 
 That prayer was answered. 
 
208 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 THE YOUNG- MASTER 
 
 Two days after, a young man drove a light wagon up 
 through the avenue of China-trees, and, throwing the reins 
 hastily on the horses neck, sprang out and inquired for the 
 owner of the place. 
 
 It was George Shelby ; and, to show how he came to be 
 there, we must go back in our story. 
 
 The letter of Miss Ophelia to Mrs. Shelby had, by some 
 unfortunate accident, been detained for a month or two at 
 some remote post-office, before it reached its destination ; 
 and, of course, before it was received, Tom was already lost 
 to view among the distant swamps of the Red Eiver. 
 
 Mrs. Shelby read the intelligence with the deepest con 
 cern ; but any immediate action upon it was an impossi 
 bility. She was then in attendance on the sick-bed of her 
 husband, who lay delirious in the crisis of a fever. Master 
 George Shelby, who, in the interval, had changed from a 
 boy to a tall young man, was her constant and faithful as 
 sistant, and her only reliance in superintending his father s 
 affairs. Miss Ophelia had taken the precaution to send 
 them the name of the lawyer who did business for the St. 
 Clares ; and the most that, in the emergency, could be done 
 was to address a letter of inquiry to him. The sudden 
 death of Mr. Shelby, a few days after, brought of course 
 an absorbing pressure of other interests for a season. 
 
 Mr. Shelby showed his confidence in his wife s ability 
 by appointing her sole executrix upon his estates ; and thus 
 immediately a large and complicated amount of business 
 was brought upon her hands. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 209 
 
 Mrs. Shelby, with characteristic energy, applied herself 
 to the work of straightening the entangled web of affairs 
 and she and George were for some time occupied with col 
 lecting and examining accounts, selling property, and set 
 tling debts ; for Mrs. Shelby was determined that everything 
 should be brought into tangible and recognizable shape, let 
 the consequences to her prove what they might. In the 
 mean time, they received a letter from the lawyer to whom 
 Miss Ophelia had referred them, saying that he knew no 
 thing of the matter ; that the man was sold at a public 
 auction, and that, beyond receiving the money, he knew 
 nothing of the affair. 
 
 Neither George nor Mrs. Shelby could be easy at this 
 result ; and accordingly some six months after, the latter, 
 having business for his mother down the river, resolved to 
 visit New Orleans in person, and push his inquiries, in 
 hopes of discovering Tom s whereabouts and restoring him. 
 
 After some months of unsuccessful search, by the merest 
 accident, George fell in with a man in New Orleans, who 
 happened to be possessed of the desired information ; and 
 with his money in his pocket, our hero took steamboat for 
 Ked River, resolving to find out and repurchase his old 
 friend. 
 
 He was soon introduced into the house, where he found 
 Legree in the sitting-room. 
 
 Legree received the stranger with a kind of surly hospi 
 tality. 
 
 " I understand," said the young man, " that you bought, 
 in New Orleans, a boy named Tom. He used to be on my 
 father s place, and I came to see if I could n t buy him 
 back." 
 
 Legree s brow grew dark, and he broke out passionately : 
 " Yes, I did buy such a fellow, and a h 1 of a bargain 
 I had of it, too ! The most rebellious, saucy, impudent dog ! 
 Set up my niggers to run away j got off two gals, worth 
 
 VOL. ii. 
 
210 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 eight hundred or a thousand dollars apiece. He owned to 
 that, and when I bid him tell me where they was, he up 
 and said he knew, but he would n t tell ; and stood to it, 
 though I gave him the cussedest flogging I ever gave nigger 
 yet. I b lieve he s trying to die ; but I don t know as he 11 
 make it out." 
 
 " Where is he ? " said George impetuously. " Let me 
 see him. 7 The cheeks of the young man were crimson, 
 and his eyes flashed fire ; but he prudently said nothing as 
 yet. 
 
 " He s in dat ar shed," said a little fellow, who stood 
 holding George s horse. 
 
 Legree kicked the boy, and swore at him ; but George, 
 without saying another word, turned and strode to the spot. 
 
 Tom had been lying two days since the fatal night ; not 
 suffering, for every nerve of suffering was blunted and de 
 stroyed. He lay for the most part in a quiet stupor ; for 
 the laws of a powerful and well-knit frame would not at 
 once release the imprisoned spirit. By stealth, there had been 
 there, in the darkness of the night, poor desolated creatures, 
 who stole from their scanty hours rest, that they might re 
 pay to him some of those ministrations of love in which he 
 had always been so abundant. Truly, those poor disciples 
 had little to give, only the cup of cold water ; but it was 
 given with full hearts. 
 
 Tears had fallen on that honest, insensible face, tears 
 of late repentance in the poor, ignorant heathen, whom his 
 dying love and patience had awakened to repentance, and 
 bitter prayers, breathed over him to a late-found Saviour, 
 of whom they scarce knew more than the name, but whom 
 the yearning ignorant heart of man never implores in vain. 
 
 Cassy, who had glided out of her place of concealment, and, 
 by overhearing, learned the sacrifice that had been made for 
 her and Emmeline, had been there the night before, defying 
 the danger of detection ; and moved by the few last words 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 211 
 
 which the affectionate soul had yet strength to breathe, the 
 long winter of despair, the ice of years, had given way, and 
 the dark, despairing woman had wept and prayed. 
 
 When George entered the shed, he felt his head giddy 
 and his heart sick. 
 
 " Is it possible, is it possible ? " said he, kneeling 
 down by him. " Uncle Tom, my poor, poor old friend ! " 
 
 Something in the voice penetrated to the ear of the dying. 
 He moved his head gently, smiled, and said, 
 
 " Jesus can make a dying bed 
 Feel soft as downy pillows are." 
 
 Tears which did honor to his manly heart fell from the 
 young man s eyes, as he bent over his poor friend. 
 
 " Oh, dear Uncle Tom ! do wake, do speak once more ! 
 Look up ! Here s Mas r George, your own little Mas r 
 George. Don t you know me ? JJ 
 
 " Mas r George ! " said Tom, opening his eyes, and 
 speaking in a feeble voice. " Mas r George ! " He looked 
 bewildered. 
 
 Slowly the idea seemed to fill his soul ; and the vacant 
 eye became fixed and brightened, the whole face lighted up, 
 the hard hands clasped, and tears ran down the cheeks. 
 
 " Bless the Lord ! it is, it is, it s all I wanted ! 
 They have n t forgot me. It warms my soul ; it does my 
 old heart good ! Now I shall die content ! Bless the Lord, 
 
 my soul! " 
 
 " You sha n t die ! you must n t die, nor think of it. 
 
 1 ve come to buy you, and take you home," said George, 
 with impetuous vehemence. 
 
 " Oh, Mas r George, ye re too late. The Lord s bought 
 me, and is going to take me home, and I long to go. 
 Heaven is better than Kintuck." 
 
 " Oh, don t die ! It 11 kill me ! it 11 break my heart 
 to think what you ve suffered, and lying in this old 
 shed here ! Poor, poor fellow ! " 
 
212 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Don t call me poor fellow ! " said Tom solemnly. 
 " I have been poor fellow ; but that s all past and gone 
 now. I m right in the door, going into glory ! Oh, Mas r 
 George ! heaven has come ! I ve got the victory ! 
 the Lord Jesus has given it to me ! Glory be to his name ! " 
 George was awe-struck at the force, the vehemence, the 
 power, with which these broken sentences were uttered. 
 He sat gazing in silence. 
 
 Tom grasped his hand, and continued : " Ye must n t, 
 now, tell Chloe, poor soul ! how ye found me ; ? t would 
 be so drefful to her. Only tell her ye found me going into 
 glory ; and that I could n t stay for no one. And tell her 
 the Lord s stood by me everywhere and al ays, and made 
 everything light and easy. And oh, the poor chil en and 
 the baby ! my old heart s been most broke for em time 
 and agin ! Tell em all to follow me follow me ! Give 
 my love to Mas r, and dear good Missis, and everybody in 
 the place ! Ye don t know ! Pears like I loves em all ! 
 I loves every creatur every whar ! it s nothing but love ! 
 Oh, Mas r George, what a thing t is to be a Christian ! " 
 
 At this moment, Legree sauntered up to the door of the 
 shed, looked in, with a dogged air of affected carelessness, 
 and turned away. 
 
 " The old Satan ! " said George, in his indignation. " It s 
 a comfort to think the devil will pay him for this some of 
 these days ! " 
 
 " Oh, don t ! Oh, ye must n t ! " said Tom, grasping 
 his hand ; " he s a poor mis able crittur ! it s awful to 
 think on t ! Oh, if he only could repent, the Lord would 
 forgive him now ; but I m feard he never will ! " 
 
 "I hope he won t!" said George; "I never want to 
 see him in heaven ! " 
 
 "Hush, Mas r George! it worries me! Don t feel 
 so ! He ain t done me no real harm, only opened the 
 gate of the kingdom for me ; that s all ! " 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 213 
 
 At this moment, the sudden flush of strength which the 
 joy of meeting his young master had infused into the dying 
 man gave way. A sudden sinking fell upon him ; he closed 
 his eyes ; and that mysterious and sublime change passed 
 over his face, that told the approach of other worlds. 
 
 He began to draw his breath with long, deep inspirations, 
 and his broad chest rose and fell heavily. The expression 
 of his face was that of a conqueror. 
 
 " Who who who shall separate us from the love of 
 Christ ? " he said, in a voice that contended with mortal 
 weakness ; and, with a smile, he fell asleep. 
 
 George sat fixed with solemn awe. It seemed to him 
 that the place was holy ; and, as he closed the lifeless eyes 
 and rose up from the dead, only one thought possessed him, 
 that expressed by his simple old friend : " What a thing 
 it is to be a Christian ! " 
 
 He turned ; Legree was standing sullenly behind him. 
 
 Something in that dying scene had checked the natural 
 fierceness of youthful passion. The presence of the man 
 was simply loathsome to George ; and he felt only an im 
 pulse to get away from him, with as few words as possible. 
 
 Fixing his keen, dark eyes on Legree, he simply said, 
 pointing to the dead, " You have got all you ever can of 
 him. What shall I pay you for the body ? I will take it 
 away, and bury it decently." 
 
 " I don t sell dead niggers," said Legree doggedly. 
 " You are welcome to bury him where and when you like." 
 
 " Boys," said George, in an authoritative tone, to two 
 or three negroes, who were looking at the body, " help me 
 lift him up, and carry him to my wagon ; and get me a 
 spade." 
 
 One of them ran for a spade ; the other two assisted 
 George to carry the body to the wagon. 
 
 George neither spoke to nor looked at Legree, who did 
 not countermand his orders, but stood, whistling with an 
 
214 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 air of forced unconcern. He sulkily followed them to 
 where the wagon stood at the door. 
 
 George spread his cloak in the wagon, and had the body 
 carefully disposed of in it, moving the seat, so as to give 
 it room. Then he turned, fixed his eyes on Legree, and 
 said, with forced composure, 
 
 " I have not as yet said to you what I think of this 
 most atrocious affair ; this is not the time and place. 
 But, sir, this innocent blood shall have justice. I will pro 
 claim this murder. I will go to the very first magistrate 
 and expose you." 
 
 " Do ! " said Legree, snapping his fingers scornfully. 
 " I ? d like to see you doing it. Where you going to get 
 witnesses ? how you going to prove it ? Come, now ! " 
 
 George saw, at once, the force of this defiance. There 
 was not a white person on the place ; and, in all Southern 
 courts, the testimony of colored blood is nothing. He felt 
 at that moment as if he could have rent the heavens with 
 his heart s indignant cry for justice ; but in vain. 
 
 " After all, what a fuss, for a dead nigger ! " said Legree. 
 
 The word was as a spark to a powder-magazine. Pru 
 dence was never a cardinal virtue of the Kentucky boy. 
 George turned, and, with one indignant blow, knocked 
 Legree flat upon his face ; and, as he stood over him, blaz 
 ing with wrath and defiance, he would have formed no bad 
 personification of his great namesake triumphing over the 
 dragon. 
 
 Some men, however, are decidedly bettered by being 
 knocked down. If a man lays them fairly flat in the dust, 
 they seem immediately to conceive a respect for him ; and 
 Legree was one of this sort. As he rose, therefore, and 
 brushed the dust from his clothes, he eyed the slowly 
 retreating wagon with some evident consideration ; nor did 
 he open his mouth till it was out of sight. 
 
 Beyond the boundaries of the plantation, George had 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 215 
 
 noticed a dry, sandy knoll, shaded by a few trees ; there 
 they made the grave. 
 
 " Shall we take off the cloak, Mas r ? " said the negroes, 
 when the grave was ready. 
 
 " No, no, bury it with him ! It s all I can give you 
 now, poor Tom, and you shall have it. 7 
 
 They laid him in ; and the men shoveled away silently. 
 They banked it up, and laid green turf over it. 
 
 " You may go, boys, 7 said George, slipping a quarter into 
 the hand of each. They lingered about, however. 
 
 " If young Mas r would please buy us " said one. 
 
 " We d serve him so faithful ! " said the other. 
 
 " Hard times here, Mas r ! " said the first. " Do, Mas r, 
 buy us, please ! " 
 
 " I can t, I can t ! " said George, with difficulty, mo 
 tioning them off ; " it s impossible ! " 
 
 The poor fellows looked dejected, and walked off in 
 silence. 
 
 " Witness, eternal God ! " said George, kneeling on the 
 grave of his poor friend, " oh, witness, that, from this 
 hour, I will do what one man can to drive out this curse of 
 slavery from my land ! " 
 
 There is no monument to mark the last resting-place of 
 our friend. He needs none ! His Lord knows where he 
 lies, and will raise him up, immortal, to appear with him 
 when he shall appear in his glory. 
 
 Pity him not ! Such a life and death is not for pity ! 
 Not in the riches of omnipotence is the chief glory of God ; 
 but in self-denying, suffering love ! And blessed are the 
 men whom he calls to fellowship with him, bearing their 
 cross after him with patience. Of such it is written, 
 " Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be com 
 forted." 
 
216 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 AN AUTHENTIC GHOST STORY 
 
 For some remarkable reason, ghostly legends were uncom 
 monly rife about this time among the servants on Legree s 
 place. 
 
 It was whisperingly asserted that footsteps in the dead 
 of night had been heard descending the garret stairs, and 
 patroling the house. In vain the doors of the upper entry 
 had been locked ; the ghost either carried a duplicate key 
 in its pocket, or availed itself of a ghost s immemorial privi 
 lege of coming through the keyhole, and promenaded as 
 before, with a freedom that was alarming. 
 
 Authorities were somewhat divided as to the outward 
 form of the spirit, owing to a custom quite prevalent among 
 negroes, and, for ought we know, among whites, too, 
 of invariably shutting the eyes, and covering up heads under 
 blankets, petticoats, or whatever else might come in use for 
 a shelter, on these occasions. Of course, as everybody 
 knows, when the bodily eyes are thus out of the lists, the 
 spiritual eyes are uncommonly vivacious and perspicuous ; 
 and, therefore, there were abundance of full-length portraits 
 of the ghost, abundantly sworn and testified to, which, as is 
 often the case with portraits, agreed with each other in no 
 particular, except the common family peculiarity of the 
 ghost tribe, the wearing of a white sheet. The poor souls 
 were not versed in ancient history, and did not know that 
 Shakespeare had authenticated this costume, by telling how 
 
 " the sheeted dead 
 Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 217 
 
 And, therefore, their all hitting upon this is a striking fact 
 in pneumatology, which we recommend to the attention of 
 spiritual media generally. 
 
 Be it as it may, we have private reasons for knowing that 
 a tall figure in a white sheet did walk, at the most approved 
 ghostly hours, around the Legree premises, pass out the 
 doors, glide about the house, disappear at intervals, and, 
 reappearing, pass up the silent stairway, into that fatal gar 
 ret j and that, in the morning, the entry doors were all found 
 shut and locked as firm as ever. 
 
 Legree could not help overhearing this whispering ; and 
 it was all the more exciting to him, from the pains that were 
 taken to conceal it from him. He drank more brandy than 
 usual ; held up his head briskly, and swore louder than ever 
 in the daytime ; but he had bad dreams, and the visions of 
 his head on his bed were anything but agreeable. The 
 night after Tom s body had been carried away, he rode to 
 the next town for a carouse, and had a high one. Got home 
 late and tired ; locked his door, took out the key, and went 
 to bed. 
 
 After all, let a man take what pains he may to hush it 
 down, a human soul is an awful ghostly, unquiet possession 
 for a bad man to have. Who knows the metes and bounds 
 of it ? Who knows all its awful perhapses, those shud- 
 derings and tremblings, which it can no more live down than 
 it can outlive its own eternity ! What a fool is he who locks 
 his door to keep out spirits, who has in his own bosom a 
 spirit he dares not meet alone, whose voice, smothered 
 far down, and piled over with mountains of earthliness, is 
 yet like the forewarning trumpet of doom ! 
 
 But Legree locked his door and set a chair against it ; 
 he set a night-lamp at the head of his bed ; and he put his 
 pistols there. He examined the catches and fastenings of 
 the windows, and then swore he " did n t care for the devil 
 and all his angels," and went to sleep. 
 
218 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 Well, he slept, for he was tired, slept soundly. But 
 finally, there came over his sleep a shadow, a horror, an 
 apprehension of something dreadful hanging over him. It 
 was his mother s shroud, he thought ; but Cassy had it, 
 holding it up, and showing it to him. He heard a confused 
 noise of screams and groanings ; and, with it all, he knew 
 he was asleep, and he struggled to wake himself. He was 
 half awake. He was sure something was coming into his 
 room. He knew the door was opening, but he could not 
 stir hand or foot. At last he turned, with a start ; the door 
 was open, and he saw a hand putting out his light. 
 
 It was a cloudy, misty moonlight, and there he saw it ! 
 something white, gliding in ! He heard the still rustle 
 of its ghostly garments. It stood still by his bed ; a 
 cold hand touched his ; a voice said, three times, in a low, 
 fearful whisper, " Come ! come ! come ! " And while he 
 lay sweating with terror, he knew not when or how, the 
 thing was gone. He sprang out of bed, and pulled at the 
 door. It was shut and locked, and the man fell down in a 
 swoon. 
 
 After this, Legree became a harder drinker than ever 
 before. He no longer drank cautiously, prudently, but im 
 prudently and recklessly. 
 
 There were reports around the country soon after that 
 he was sick and dying. Excess had brought on that fright 
 ful disease that seems to throw the lurid shadows of a coming 
 retribution back into the present life. None could bear the 
 horrors of that sick-room, when he raved and screamed, and 
 spoke of sights which almost stopped the blood of those who 
 heard him ; and, at his dying-bed, stood a stern, white, in 
 exorable figure, saying, " Come ! come ! come ! " 
 
 By a singular coincidence, on the very night that this 
 vision appeared to Legree, the house-door was found open 
 in the morning, and some of the negroes had seen two white 
 figures gliding down the avenue towards the highroad. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 219 
 
 It was near sunrise when Gassy and Emmeline paused, 
 for a moment, in a little knot of trees near the town. 
 
 Gassy was dressed after the manner of the Creole Span 
 ish ladies, wholly in black. A small black bonnet on her 
 head, covered by a veil thick with embroidery, concealed 
 her face. It had been agreed that, in their escape, she was 
 to personate the character of a Creole lady, and Emmeline 
 that of her servant. 
 
 Brought up from early life in connection with the high 
 est society, the language, movements, and air of Gassy were 
 all in agreement with this idea ; and she had still enough 
 remaining with her, of a once splendid wardrobe and sets 
 of jewels, to enable her to personate the thing to advantage. 
 
 She stopped in the outskirts of the town, where she had 
 noticed trunks for sale, and purchased a handsome one. 
 This she requested the man to send along with her. And, 
 accordingly, thus escorted by a boy wheeling her trunk, and 
 Emmeline behind her, carrying her carpet-bag and sundry 
 bundles, she made her appearance at the small tavern, like 
 a lady of consideration. 
 
 The first person that struck her, after her arrival, was 
 George Shelby, who was staying there, awaiting the next 
 boat. 
 
 Gassy had remarked the young man from her loop-hole in 
 the garret, and seen him bear away the body of Tom, and 
 observed with secret exultation his rencontre with Legree. 
 Subsequently, she had gathered from the conversations she 
 had overheard among the negroes, as she glided about in 
 her ghostly disguise after nightfall, who he was, and in 
 what relation he stood to Tom. She, therefore, felt an 
 immediate accession of confidence, when she found that he 
 was, like herself, awaiting the next boat. 
 
 Cassy s air and manner, address, and evident command of 
 money prevented any rising disposition to suspicion in the 
 hotel. People never inquire too closely into those who are 
 
220 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 fair on the main point, of paying well, a thing which 
 Cassy had foreseen when she provided herself with money. 
 
 In the edge of the evening, a boat was heard coining 
 along, and George Shelby handed Cassy aboard, with the 
 politeness which comes natural to every Kentuckian, and 
 exerted himself to provide her with a good stateroom. 
 
 Cassy kept her room and bed, on pretext of illness, 
 during the whole time they were on Red River ; and was 
 waited on, with obsequious devotion, by her attendant. 
 
 When they arrived at the Mississippi River, George, 
 having learned that the course of the strange lady was up 
 ward, like his own, proposed to take a stateroom for her 
 on the same boat with himself, good-naturedly compas 
 sionating her feeble health, and desirous to do what he 
 could to assist her. 
 
 Behold, therefore, the whole party safely transferred to 
 the good steamer Cincinnati, and sweeping up the river 
 under a powerful head of steam. 
 
 Cassy s health was much better. She sat upon the 
 guards, came to the table, and was remarked upon in the 
 boat as a lady that must have been very handsome. 
 
 From the moment that George got the first glimpse of 
 her face, he was troubled with one of those fleeting and 
 indefinite likenesses, which almost everybody can remember, 
 and has been at times perplexed with. He could not 
 keep himself from looking at her, and watching her per 
 petually. At table, or sitting at her stateroom door, still 
 she would encounter the young man s eyes fixed on her, 
 and politely withdrawn when she showed, by her counte 
 nance, that she was sensible of the observation. 
 
 Cassy became uneasy. She began to think that he 
 suspected something; and finally resolved to throw herself 
 entirely on his generosity, and intrusted him with her 
 whole history. 
 
 George was heartily disposed to sympathize with any one 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 221 
 
 who had escaped from Legree s plantation, a place that 
 he could not remember or speak of with patience, and, 
 with the courageous disregard of consequences which is 
 characteristic of his age and state, he assured her that he 
 would do all in his power to protect and bring them through. 
 
 The next stateroom to Cassy s was occupied by a French 
 lady, named De Thoux, who was accompanied by a fine 
 little daughter, a child of some twelve summers. 
 
 This lady, having gathered from George s conversation 
 that he was from Kentucky, seemed evidently disposed to 
 cultivate his acquaintance ; in which design she was sec 
 onded by the graces of her little girl, who was about as 
 pretty a plaything as ever diverted the weariness of a fort 
 night s trip on a steamboat. 
 
 George s chair was often placed at her stateroom door ; 
 and Cassy, as she sat upon the guards, could hear their 
 conversation. 
 
 Madame de Thoux was very minute in her inquiries as 
 to Kentucky, where she said she had resided in a former 
 period of her life. George discovered, to his surprise, that 
 her former residence must have been in his own vicinity ; 
 and her inquiries showed a knowledge of people and things 
 in his region that was perfectly surprising to him. 
 
 " Do you know," said Madame de Thoux to him one day, 
 " of any man in your neighborhood of the name of Harris ? " 
 
 " There is an old fellow of that name lives not far from 
 my father s place," said George. " We never have had 
 much intercourse with him, though." 
 
 " He is a large slave-owner, I believe, said Madame de 
 Thoux, with a manner which seemed to betray more inter 
 est than she was exactly willing to show. 
 
 " He is," said George, looking rather surprised at her 
 manner. 
 
 " Did you ever know of his having perhaps, you may 
 have heard of his having a mulatto boy, named George ? " 
 
 
222 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 " Oh, certainly, George Harris, I know him well ; 
 he married a servant of my mother s, but has escaped now 
 to Canada." 
 
 " He has ? " said Madame de Thoux quickly. " Thank 
 God ! " 
 
 George looked a surprised inquiry, but said nothing. 
 
 Madame de Thoux leaned her head on her hand, and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " He is my brother," she said. 
 
 " Madame ! " said George, with a strong accent of sur 
 prise. 
 
 " Yes," said Madame de Thoux, lifting her head proudly, 
 and wiping her tears ; " Mr. Shelby, George Harris is my 
 brother ! " 
 
 " I am perfectly astonished," said George, pushing back 
 his chair a pace or two, and looking at Madame de Thoux. 
 
 " I was sold to the south when he was a boy," said she. 
 " I was bought by a good and generous man. He took me 
 with him to the West Indies, set me free, and married me. 
 It is but lately that he died ; and I was coming up to Ken 
 tucky, to see if I could find and redeem my brother." 
 
 " I have heard him speak of a sister Emily, that was sold 
 south, * said George. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! I am the one," said Madame de Thoux ; 
 " tell me what sort of a " 
 
 " A very fine young man," said George, " notwithstanding 
 the curse of slavery that lay on him. He sustained a first- 
 rate character, both for intelligence and principle. I know, 
 you see," he said, " because he married in our family." 
 
 " What sort of a girl ? " said Madame de Thoux eagerly. 
 
 " A treasure," said George ; " a beautiful, intelligent, 
 amiable girl, very pious. My mother had brought her 
 up, and trained her as carefully almost as a daughter. She 
 could read and write, embroider and sew beautifully ; and 
 was a beautiful singer." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 223 
 
 " Was she born in your house ? " said Madame de Thoux. 
 
 " No. Father bought her once, in one of his trips to New 
 Orleans, and brought her up as a present to mother. She 
 was about eight or nine years old then. Father would never 
 tell mother what he gave for her ; but the other day, in look 
 ing over his old papers, we came across the bill of sale. He 
 paid an extravagant sum for her, to be sure. I suppose, on 
 account of her extraordinary beauty. " 
 
 George sat with his back to Gassy, and did not see the 
 absorbed expression of her countenance as he was giving 
 these details. 
 
 At this point in the story, she touched his arm, and, with 
 a face perfectly white with interest, said, " Do you know 
 the names of the people he bought her of ? " 
 
 " A man of the name of Simmons, I think, was the prin 
 cipal in the transaction. At least, I think that was the name 
 on the bill of sale." 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " said Gassy, and fell insensible on the 
 floor of the cabin. 
 
 George was wide awake now, and so was Madame de 
 Thoux. Though neither of them could conjecture what was 
 the cause of Gassy s fainting, still they made all the tumult 
 which is proper in such cases ; George upsetting a wash- 
 pitcher and breaking two tumblers, in the warmth of his 
 humanity ; and various ladies in the cabin, hearing that some 
 body had fainted, crowded the stateroom door, and kept out 
 all the air they possibly could, so that, on the whole, every 
 thing was done that could be expected. 
 
 Poor Gassy, when she recovered, turned her face to the 
 wall, and wept and sobbed like a child. Perhaps, mother, 
 you can tell what she was thinking of ! Perhaps you can 
 not ; but she felt as sure, in that hour, that God had had 
 mercy on her, and that she should see her daughter, as she 
 did, months afterwards, when But we anticipate. 
 
224 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 RESULTS 
 
 THE rest of our story is soon told. George Shelby, 
 interested, as any other young man might be, by the romance 
 of the incident, no less than by feelings of humanity, was 
 at the pains to send to Gassy the bill of sale of Eliza, whose 
 date and name all corresponded with her own knowledge of 
 facts, and left no doubt upon her mind as to the identity of 
 her child. It remained now only for her to trace out the 
 path of the fugitives. 
 
 Madame de Thoux and she, thus drawn together by the 
 singular coincidence of their fortunes, proceeded immediately 
 to Canada, and began a tour of inquiry among the stations 
 where the numerous fugitives from slavery are located. 
 At Amherstburg they found the missionary with whom 
 George and Eliza had taken shelter on their first arrival in 
 Canada ; and through him were enabled to trace the family 
 to Montreal. 
 
 George and Eliza had now been five years free. George 
 had found constant occupation in the shop of a worthy 
 machinist, where he had been earning a competent support 
 for his family, which in the mean time had been increased 
 by the addition of another daughter. 
 
 Little Harry a fine, bright boy had been put to a 
 good school, and was making rapid proficiency in knowledge. 
 
 The worthy pastor of the station in Amherstburg, where 
 George had first landed, was so much interested in the 
 statements of Madame de Thoux and Cassy, that he yielded 
 to the solicitations of the former to accompany them to 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 225 
 
 Montreal, in their search, she bearing all the expense of 
 the expedition. 
 
 The scene now changes to a small, neat tenement, in the 
 outskirts of Montreal ; the time, evening. A cheerful fire 
 blazes on the hearth; a tea-table, covered with a snowy 
 cloth, stands prepared for the evening meal. In one 
 corner of the room was a table covered with a green cloth, 
 where was an open writing-desk, pens, paper, and over it a 
 shelf of well-selected books. 
 
 This was George s study. The same zeal for self-improve 
 ment, which led him to steal the much coveted arts of 
 reading and writing, amid all the toils and discouragements 
 of his early life, still led him to devote all his leisure time 
 to self-cultivation. 
 
 At this present time, he is seated at the table, making notes 
 from a volume of the family library he has been reading. 
 
 " Come, George," says Eliza, " you ve been gone all day. 
 Do put down that book, and let s talk, while I m getting 
 tea, do." 
 
 And little Eliza seconds the effort, by toddling up to her 
 father, and trying to pull the book out of his hand, and 
 install herself on his knee as a substitute. 
 
 " Oh, you little witch ! " says George, yielding, as in 
 such circumstances man always must. 
 
 " That s right," says Eliza, as she begins to cut a loaf of 
 bread. A little older she looks ; her form a little fuller ; 
 her air more matronly than of yore ; but evidently contented 
 and happy as woman need be. 
 
 " Harry, my boy, how did you come on in that sum to 
 day ? " says George, as he laid his hand on his son s head. 
 
 Harry has lost his long curls ; but he can never lose those 
 eyes and eyelashes, and that fine, bold brow, that flushes 
 with triumph as he answers, " I did it, every bit of it, my 
 self, father ; and nobody helped me ! " 
 
 " That s right," says his father ; " depend on yourself, 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
226 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 my son. You have a better chance than ever your poor 
 father had." 
 
 At this moment there is a rap at the door, and Eliza 
 goes and opens it. The delighted " Why ! this you ? " 
 calls up her husband ; and the good pastor of Amherstburg 
 is welcomed. There are two women with him, and Eliza 
 asks them to sit down. 
 
 Now, if the truth must be told, the honest pastor had 
 arranged a little programme, according to which this affair 
 was to develop itself; and, on the way up, all had very 
 cautiously and prudently exhorted each other not to let 
 things out, except according to previous arrangement. 
 
 What was the good man s consternation, therefore, just as 
 he had motioned to the ladies to be seated, and was taking 
 out his pocket-handkerchief to wipe his mouth, so as to pro 
 ceed to his introductory speech in good order, when Madame 
 de Thoux upset the whole plan, by throwing her arms 
 around George s neck, and letting all out at once, by saying, 
 " Oh, George ! don t you know me ? I m your sister 
 Emily." 
 
 Gassy had seated herself more composedly, and would 
 have carried on her part very well, had not little Eliza sud 
 denly appeared before her in exact shape and form, every 
 outline and curl, just as her daughter was when she saw her 
 last. The little thing peered up in her face ; and Gassy 
 caught her up in her arms, pressed her to her bosom, saying, 
 what at the moment she really believed, " Darling, I m 
 your mother ! " 
 
 In fact, it was a troublesome matter to do up exactly in 
 proper order ; but the good pastor at last succeeded in get 
 ting everybody quiet, and delivering the speech with which 
 he had intended to open the exercises ; and in which at last 
 he succeeded so well, that his whole audience were sobbing 
 about him in a manner that ought to satisfy any orator, 
 ancient or modern. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 227 
 
 They knelt together, and the good man prayed, for 
 there are some feelings so agitated and tumultuous that 
 they can find rest only by being poured into the bosom of 
 Almighty love, and then, rising up, the new-found family 
 embraced each other, with a holy trust in Him who from 
 such peril and dangers, and by such unknown ways, had 
 brought them together. 
 
 The notebook of a missionary among the Canadian fugi 
 tives contains truth stranger than fiction. How can it be 
 otherwise, when a system prevails which whirls families and 
 scatters their members, as the wind whirls and scatters the 
 leaves of autumn ? These shores of refuge, like the eternal 
 shore, often unite again, in glad communion, hearts that for 
 long years have mourned each other as lost. And affecting 
 beyond expression is the earnestness with which every new 
 arrival among them is met, if, perchance, it may bring tid 
 ings of mother, sister, child, or wife, still lost to view in 
 the shadows of slavery. 
 
 Deeds of heroism are wrought here more than those of 
 romance, when defying torture, and braving death itself, the 
 fugitive voluntarily threads his way back to the terrors and 
 perils of that dark land, that he may bring out his sister, or 
 mother, or wife. 
 
 One young man, of whom a missionary has told us, twice 
 recaptured, and suffering shameful stripes for his heroism, 
 had escaped again ; and, in a letter which we heard read, 
 tells his friends that he is going back a third time, that he 
 may, at last, bring away his sister. My good sir, is this 
 man a hero, or a criminal ? Would not you do as much for 
 your sister ? And can you blame him ? 
 
 But, to return to our friends, whom we left wiping their 
 eyes and recovering themselves from too great and sudden 
 a joy. They are now seated around the social board, and 
 are getting decidedly companionable ; only that Gassy, who 
 keeps little Eliza on her lap, occasionally squeezes the little 
 
-_>_> 8 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 thing in a manner that rather astonishes her, and obstinately 
 refuses to have her mouth stuffed with eake to the extent 
 the little one desires, alleging, what the child rather won 
 ders at, that she has got something better than cake, and 
 does n t want it. 
 
 And, indeed, in two or three days, such a change has 
 passed over Cassy that our readers would scarcely know 
 her. The despairing, haggard expression of her face had 
 given way to one of gentle trust. She seemed to sink at 
 once into the. bosom of the family, and take the little ones 
 into her heart, as something for which it long had waited. 
 Indeed, her love seemed to tlow more naturally to the little 
 Eliza than to her own daughter ; for she was the exact 
 image and body of the child whom she had lost. The lit 
 tle one was a flowery bond between mother and daughter, 
 through whom grew up acquaintanceship and affection. 
 Eliza s steady, consistent piety, regulated by the constant 
 reading of the sacred word, made her a proper guide for the 
 shattered and wearied mind of her mother. Cassy yielded 
 at once, and with her whole soul, to every good influence, 
 and became a devout and tender Christian. 
 
 After a day or two, Madame de Thoux told her brother 
 more particularly of her affairs. The death of her husband 
 had left her an ample fortune, which she generously offered 
 to share with the family. When she asked George what way 
 she could best apply it for him, he answered, " Give me an 
 education, Emily ; that has always been my heart s desire. 
 Then I can do all the rest." 
 
 On mature deliberation, it was decided that the whole 
 family should go for some years to France ; whither they 
 sailed, carrying Emmeline with them. 
 
 The good looks of the latter won the affection of the first 
 mate of the vessel ; and, shortly after entering the port, she 
 became his wife. 
 
 George remained four years at a French university, and, 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 229 
 
 applying himself with an uninterrupted zeal, obtained a very 
 thorough education. 
 
 Political troubles in France, at last, led the family again 
 to seek an asylum in this country. 
 
 George s feelings and views, as an educated man, may be 
 best expressed in a letter to one of his friends. 
 
 I feel somewhat at a loss as to my future course. 
 True, as you have said to me, I might mingle in the circles 
 of the whites in this country, my shade of color is so slight, 
 and that of my wife and family scarce perceptible. Well, 
 perhaps, on sufferance, I might. But, to tell you the truth, 
 I have no wish to. 
 
 My sympathies are not for my father s race, but for my 
 mother s. To him I was no more than a fine dog or horse ; 
 to my poor heart-broken mother I was a child ; and, though 
 I never saw her, after the cruel sale that separated us, till 
 she died, yet I know she always loved me dearly. I know 
 it by my own heart. When I think of all she suffered, of 
 my own early sufferings, of the distresses and struggles of 
 my heroic wife, of my sister, sold in the New Orleans 
 slave-market, though I hope to have no unchristian sen 
 timents, yet I may be excused for saying I have no wish 
 to pass for an American, or to identify myself with them. 
 
 It is with the oppressed, enslaved African race that I 
 cast in my lot ; and, if I wished anything, I would wish 
 myself two shades darker rather than one lighter. 
 
 The desire and yearning of my soul is for an African 
 nationality. I want a people that shall have a tangible, 
 separate existence of its own ; and where am I to look for 
 it ? Not in Hayti ; for in Hayti they had nothing to start 
 with. A stream cannot rise above its fountain. The race 
 that formed the character of the Haytiens was a worn-out, 
 effeminate one ; and, of course, the subject race will be cen 
 turies in rising to anything. 
 
230 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 Where, then, shall I look ? On the shores of Africa I 
 see a republic, a republic formed of picked men, who, by 
 energy and self-educating force, have, in many cases indi 
 vidually, raised themselves above a condition of slavery. 
 Having gone through a preparatory stage of feebleness, this 
 republic has at last become an acknowledged nation on the 
 face of the earth, acknowledged by both France and Eng 
 land. There it is my wish to go, and find myself a people. 
 
 I am aware, now, that I shall have you all against me ; 
 but, before you strike, hear me. During my stay in France, 
 I have followed up, with intense interest, the history of 
 my people in America. I have noted the struggle between 
 abolitionist and colonizationist, and have received some im 
 pressions as a distant spectator which could never have 
 occurred to me as a participator. 
 
 I grant that this Liberia may have subserved all sorts 
 of purposes, by being played off, in the hands of our oppres 
 sors, against us. Doubtless the scheme may have been 
 used, in unjustifiable ways, as a means of retarding our 
 emancipation. But the question to me is, Is there not a 
 God above all man s schemes ? May he not have overruled 
 their designs, and founded for us a nation by them ? 
 
 In these days, a nation is born in a day. A nation 
 starts now with all the great problems of republican life 
 and civilization wrought out to its hand ; it has not to 
 discover, but only to apply. Let us, then, all take hold 
 together, with all our might, and see what we can do with 
 this new enterprise, and the whole splendid continent of 
 Africa opens before us and our children. Our nation shall 
 roll the tide of civilization and Christianity along its shores, 
 and plant there mighty republics, that, growing with the 
 rapidity of tropical vegetation, shall be for all coming ages. 
 
 Do you say that I am deserting my enslaved brethren ? 
 I think not. If I forget them one hour, one moment of 
 my life, so may God forget me ! But what can I do for 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 231 
 
 them here ? Can I break their chains ? No, not as an 
 individual ; but let me go and form part of a nation, which 
 shall have a voice in the councils of nations, and then we 
 can speak. A nation has a right to argue, remonstrate, 
 implore, and present the cause of its race, which an indi 
 vidual has not. 
 
 If Europe ever becomes a grand council of free nations, 
 as I trust in God it will ; if, there, serfdom and all 
 unjust and oppressive social inequalities are done away ; 
 and if they, as France and England have done, acknowledge 
 our position, then, in the great congress of nations we 
 will make our appeal, and present the cause of our enslaved 
 and suffering race ; and it cannot be that free, enlightened 
 America will not then desire to wipe from her escutcheon 
 that bar sinister which disgraces her among nations, and is 
 as truly a curse to her as to the enslaved. 
 
 But, you w T ill tell me, our race have equal rights to 
 mingle in the American republic as the Irishman, the Ger 
 man, and the Swede. Granted they have. We ought to be 
 free to meet and mingle, to rise by our individual worth, 
 without any consideration of caste or color ; and they who 
 deny us this right are false to their own professed principles 
 of human equality. . We ought, in particular, to be allowed 
 here. We have more than the rights of common men ; 
 we have the claim of an injured race for reparation. But, 
 then, I do not want it ; I want a country, a nation, of my 
 own. I think that the African race has peculiarities, yet to 
 be unfolded in the light of civilization and Christianity, 
 which, if not the same with those of the Anglo-Saxon, may 
 prove to be morally of even a higher type. 
 
 To the Anglo-Saxon race has been intrusted the des 
 tinies of the world, during its pioneer period of struggle and 
 conflict. To that mission its stern, inflexible, energetic 
 elements were well adapted ; but, as a Christian, I look for 
 another era to arise. On its borders I trust we stand ; 
 
232 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 and the throes that now convulse the nations are, to my 
 hope, but the birth-pangs of an hour of universal peace and 
 brotherhood. 
 
 I trust that the development of Africa is to be essen 
 tially a Christian one. If not a dominant and commanding 
 race, they are, at least, an affectionate, magnanimous, and 
 forgiving one. Having been called in the furnace of 
 injustice and oppression, they have need to bind closer to 
 their hearts that sublime doctrine of love and forgiveness, 
 through which alone they are to conquer, which it is to be 
 their mission to spread over the continent of Africa. 
 
 In myself, I confess, I am feeble for this, full half 
 the blood in my veins is the hot and hasty Saxon ; but I 
 have an eloquent preacher of the gospel ever by my side, 
 in the person of my beautiful wife. When I wander, her 
 gentler spirit ever restores me, and keeps before my eyes 
 the Christian calling and mission of our race. As a Chris 
 tian patriot, as a teacher of Christianity, I go to my country, 
 my chosen, my glorious Africa ! and to her, in my 
 heart, I sometimes apply those splendid words of prophecy : 
 " Whereas thou hast been forsaken and hated, so that no 
 man went through thee, / will make thee an eternal excel 
 lence, a joy of many generations ! " 
 
 You will call me an enthusiast : you will tell me that 
 I have not well considered what I am undertaking. But I 
 have considered, and counted the cost. I go to Liberia, 
 not as to an Elysium of romance, but as to afield of work. 
 I expect to work with both hands, to. work hard ; to 
 work against all sorts of difficulties and discouragements ; 
 and to work till I die. This is what I go for ; and in this 
 I am quite sure I shall not be disappointed. 
 
 Whatever you may think of my determination, do not 
 divorce me from your confidence ; and think that, in what 
 ever I do, I act with a heart wholly given to my people. 
 
 GEORGE HARRIS. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 233 
 
 George, with his wife, children, sister, and mother, em 
 barked for Africa some few weeks after. If we are not 
 mistaken, the world will yet hear from him here. 
 
 Of our other characters we have nothing very particular 
 to write, except a word relating to Miss Ophelia and Topsy, 
 and a farewell chapter, which we shall dedicate to George 
 Shelby. 
 
 Miss Ophelia took Topsy home to Vermont with her, 
 much to the surprise of that grave deliberative body whom 
 a New Englander recognizes under the term " Our folks." 
 
 " Our folks," at first, thought it an odd and unnecessary 
 addition to their well-trained domestic establishment ; but 
 so thoroughly efficient was Miss Ophelia in her conscien 
 tious endeavor to do her duty by her eleve, that the child 
 rapidly grew in grace and in favor with the family and 
 neighborhood. At the age of womanhood, she was, by her 
 own request, baptized, and became a member of the Christian 
 church in the place ; and showed so much intelligence, ac 
 tivity, and zeal, and desire to do good in the world, that 
 she was at last recommended, and approved, as a missionary 
 to one of the stations in Africa ; and we have heard that 
 the same activity and ingenuity which, when a child, made 
 her so multiform and restless in her developments, is now 
 employed, in a safer and wholesomer manner, in teaching 
 the children of her own country. 
 
 P. S. It will be a satisfaction to some mother, also, to 
 state, that some inquiries, which were set on foot by 
 Madame de Thoux, have resulted recently in the discovery 
 of Gassy s son. Being a young man of energy, he had es 
 caped some years before his mother, and been received and 
 educated by friends of the oppressed in the North. He will 
 soon follow his family to Africa. 
 
234 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 THE LIBERATOR 
 
 GEORGE SHELBY had written to his mother merely a 
 line, stating the day that she might expect him home. Of 
 the death scene of his old friend he had not the heart to 
 write. He had tried several times, and only succeeded in 
 half choking himself; and invariably finished by tearing 
 up the paper, wiping his eyes, and rushing somewhere to 
 get quiet. 
 
 There was a pleased bustle all through the Shelby man 
 sion, that day, in expectation of the arrival of young Mas r 
 George. 
 
 Mrs. Shelby was seated in her comfortable parlor, where 
 a cheerful hickory fire was dispelling the chill of the late 
 autumn evening. A supper-table, glittering with plate 
 and cut glass, was set out, on whose arrangements our 
 former friend, old Chloe, was presiding. 
 
 Arrayed in a new calico dress, with clean, white apron, 
 and high, well-starched turban, her black polished face 
 glowing with satisfaction, she lingered, with needless punc 
 tiliousness, around the arrangements of the table, merely as 
 an excuse for talking a little to her mistress. 
 
 "Laws, now! won t it look natural to him?" she said. 
 "Thar, I set his plate just whar he likes it, round 
 by the fire. Mas r George allers wants de warm seat. 
 Oh, go way ! why did n t Sally get out de best teapot, 
 de little new one, Mas r George got for Missis, Christmas? 
 I ll have it out! And Missis has heard from Mas r 
 George ? " she said inquiringly. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 235 
 
 "Yes, Chloe; but only a line, just to say he would be 
 home to-night, if he could, that s all." 
 
 "Didn t say nothin bout my old man, s pose?" said 
 Chloe, still fidgeting with the teacups. 
 
 "]STo, he didn t. He did not speak of anything, Chloe. 
 He said he would tell all when he got home." 
 
 " Jes like Mas r George, he s allers so ferce for tellin 
 everything hisself. I allers minded dat ar in Mas r George. 
 Don t see, for my part, how white people gen lly can bar 
 to hev to write things much as they do, writin s such 
 slow, oneasy kind o work." 
 
 Mrs. Shelby smiled. 
 
 "I m a-thinkin my old man won t know de boys and 
 de baby. Lor! she s de biggest gal, now, good she is, 
 too, and peart, Polly is. She s out to the house, now, 
 watchin de hoe-cake. I s got jist de very pattern my old 
 man liked so much, a-bakin . Jist sich as I gin him the 
 mornin he was took off. Lord bless us ! how I felt dat 
 ar morning ! " 
 
 Mrs. Shelby sighed, and felt a heavy weight on her 
 heart, at this allusion. She had felt uneasy, ever since she 
 received her son s letter, lest something should prove to be 
 hidden behind the veil of silence which he had drawn. 
 
 "Missis has got dem bills? " said Chloe anxiously. 
 
 "Yes, Chloe." 
 
 " Cause I wants to show my old man dem very bills de 
 perfectioner gave me. And, says he, * Chloe, I wish 
 you d stay longer. Thank you, Mas r, says I, I would, 
 only my old man s coming home, and Missis, she can t 
 do without me no longer. There s jist what I telled 
 him. Bery nice man, dat Mas r Jones was." 
 
 Chloe had pertinaciously insisted that the .very bills in 
 which her wages had been paid should be preserved, to 
 show to her husband, in memorial of her capability. And 
 Mrs. Shelby had readily consented to humor her in the re 
 quest. 
 
236 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 "He won t know Polly, my old man won t. Laws, 
 it s five year since they tuck him! She was a baby den, 
 could n t but jist stand. Remember how tickled he 
 used to be cause she would keep a-fallin over, when she 
 sot out to walk. Laws a me ! " 
 
 The rattling of wheels now was heard. 
 
 "Mas r George! " said Aunt Chloe, starting to the win 
 dow. 
 
 Mrs. Shelby ran to the entry door, and was folded in 
 the arms of her son. Aunt Chloe stood anxiously strain 
 ing her eyes out into the darkness. 
 
 " Oh, poor Aunt Chloe ! " said George, stopping com 
 passionately, and taking her hard, black hand between both 
 his; " I d have given all my fortune to have brought him 
 with me, but he s gone to a better country." 
 
 There was a passionate exclamation from Mrs. Shelby, 
 but Aunt Chloe said nothing. 
 
 The party entered the supper-room. The money, of 
 which Chloe was so proud, was still lying on the table. 
 
 "Thar," said she, gathering it up, and holding it, with 
 a trembling hand, to her mistress, "don t never want to see 
 nor hear on t again. Jist as I knew t would be, sold, 
 and murdered on dem ar old plantations ! " 
 
 Chloe turned, and was walking proudly out of the room. 
 Mrs. Shelby followed her softly and took one of her hands, 
 drew her down into a chair, and sat down by her. 
 
 " My poor, good Chloe ! " said she. 
 
 Chloe leaned her head on her mistress s shoulder, and 
 sobbed out, "Oh, Missis! sense me, my heart s broke, 
 dat s all!" 
 
 "I know it is," said Mrs. Shelby, as her tears fell fast; 
 "and I cannot heal it, but Jesus can. He healeth the 
 broken-hearted, and bindeth up their wounds." 
 
 There was a silence for some time, and all wept to 
 gether. At last, George, sitting down beside the, mourner, 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 237 
 
 took her hand, and, with simple pathos, repeated the 
 triumphant scene of her husband s death and his last mes 
 sages of love. 
 
 About a month after this, one morning, all the servants 
 of the Shelby estate were convened together in the great 
 hall that ran through the house, to hear a few words from 
 their young master. 
 
 To the surprise of all, he appeared among them with a 
 bundle of papers in his hand, containing a certificate of 
 freedom to every one on the place, which he read succes 
 sively, and presented, amid the sobs and tears and shouts 
 of all present. 
 
 Many, however, pressed around him, earnestly begging 
 him not to send them away ; and, with anxious faces, ten 
 dering back their free papers. 
 
 " We don t want to be no freer than we are. We s allers 
 had all we wanted. We don t want to leave de old place, 
 and Mas r and Missis, and de rest! " 
 
 "My good friends," said George, as soon as he could 
 get a silence, "there ll be no need for you to leave me. 
 The place wants as many hands to work it as it did before. 
 We need the same about the house that we did before. 
 But you are now free men and free women. I shall pay 
 you wages for your work, such as we shall agree on. The 
 advantage is, that in case of my getting in debt, or dying, 
 things that might happen, you cannot now be taken 
 up and sold. I expect to carry on the estate, and to teach 
 you what, perhaps, it will take you some time to learn, 
 how to use the rights I give you as free men and women. 
 I expect you to be good, and willing to learn; and I trust 
 in God that I shall be faithful, and willing to teach. And 
 now, my friends, look up, and thank God for the blessing 
 of freedom." 
 
 An aged, patriarchal negro, who had grown gray and 
 blind on the estate, now rose, and, lifting his trembling 
 
238 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 hand, said, "Let us give thanks unto the Lord!" As all 
 kneeled by one consent, a more touching and hearty Te 
 Deum never ascended to heaven, though borne on the peal 
 of organ, bell, and cannon, than came from that honest old 
 heart. 
 
 On rising, another struck up a Methodist hymn, of which 
 the burden was, 
 
 " The year of Jubilee is come, 
 Return, ye ransomed sinners, home." 
 
 "One thing more," said George, as he stopped the con 
 gratulations of the throng; "you all remember our good 
 old Uncle Tom ? " 
 
 George here gave a short narration of the scene of his 
 death, and of his loving farewell to all on the place, and 
 added, 
 
 "It was on his grave, my friends, that I resolved, 
 before God, that I would never own another slave while it 
 was possible to free him; that nobody, through me, should 
 ever run the risk of being parted from home and friends 
 and dying on a lonely plantation, as he died. So, when 
 you rejoice in your freedom, think that you owe it to that 
 good old soul, and pay it back in kindness to his wife and 
 children. Think of your freedom, every time you see 
 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; and let it be a memorial to put you 
 all in mind to follow in his steps, and be as honest and 
 faithful and Christian as he was." 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 239 
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS 
 
 THE writer has often been inquired of, by correspond 
 ents from different parts of the country, whether this 
 narrative is a true one ; and to these inquiries she will give 
 one general answer. 
 
 The separate incidents that compose the narrative are to 
 a very great extent authentic, occurring, many of them, 
 either under her own observation or that of her personal 
 friends. She or her friends have observed characters the 
 counterpart of almost all that are here introduced; and 
 many of the sayings are word for word as heard herself, or 
 reported to her. 
 
 The personal appearance of Eliza, the character ascribed 
 to her, are sketches drawn from life. The incorruptible 
 fidelity, piety, and honesty of Uncle Tom had more than 
 one development, to her personal knowledge. Some of the 
 most deeply tragic and romantic, some of the most terrible 
 incidents, have also their parallel in reality. The incident 
 of the mother s crossing the Ohio River on the ice is a 
 well-known fact. 
 
 The story of "old Prue " (Chapter XIX.) was an inci 
 dent that fell under the personal observation of a brother of 
 the writer, then collecting-clerk to a large mercantile house 
 in New Orleans. From the same source was derived the 
 character of the planter Legree. Of him her brother thus 
 wrote, speaking of visiting his plantation on a collecting 
 tour: "He actually made me feel of his fist, which was 
 like a blacksmith s hammer, or a nodule of iron, telling me 
 
240 UNCLE TOM S CABIN ; OR 
 
 that it was calloused with knocking down niggers. 
 When I left the plantation, I drew a long breath, and felt 
 as if I had escaped from an ogre s den." 
 
 That the tragical fate of Tom, also, has too many times 
 had its parallel, there are living witnesses, all over our 
 land, to testify. Let it be remembered that in all south 
 ern States it is a principle of jurisprudence that no person 
 of colored lineage can testify in a suit against a white, and 
 it will be easy to see that such a case may occur, wherever 
 there is a man whose passions outweigh his interests, and 
 a slave who has manhood or principle enough to resist his 
 will. There is actually nothing to protect the slave s life 
 but the character of the master. Facts too shocking to be 
 contemplated occasionally force their way to the public ear, 
 and the comment that one often hears made on them is 
 more shocking than the thing itself. It is said, "Very 
 likely such cases may now and then occur, but they are no 
 samples of general practice." If the laws of New England 
 were so arranged that a master could noiu and then tor 
 ture an apprentice to death, without a possibility of being 
 brought to justice, would it be received with equal com 
 posure ? Would it be said, " These cases are rare, and no 
 samples of general practice " ? This injustice is an inher 
 ent one in the slave system, it cannot exist without it. 
 
 The public and shameless sale of beautiful mulatto and 
 quadroon girls has acquired a notoriety, from the incidents 
 following the capture of the Pearl. We extract the follow 
 ing from the speech of Hon. Horace Mann, one of the legal 
 counsel for the defendants in that case. He says: "In 
 that company of seventy-six persons, who attempted, in 
 1848, to escape from the District of Columbia in the 
 schooner Pearl, and whose officers I assisted in defending, 
 there were several young and healthy girls, who had those 
 peculiar attractions of form and feature which connoisseurs 
 prize so highly. Elizabeth Eussel was one of them. She 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 241 
 
 immediately fell into the slave-trader s fangs, and was 
 doomed for the New Orleans market. The hearts of those 
 that saw her were touched with pity for her fate. They 
 offered eighteen hundred dollars to redeem her; and some 
 there were who offered to give that would not have much 
 left after the gift; but the fiend of a slave-trader was in 
 exorable. She was dispatched to New Orleans; but when 
 about halfway there God had mercy on her, and smote 
 her with death. There were two girls named Edmundson 
 in the same company. When about to be sent to the same 
 market, an older sister went to the shambles, to plead 
 with the wretch who owned them, for the love of God, 
 to spare his victims. He bantered her, telling what fine 
 dresses and fine furniture they would have. Yes, she 
 said, that may do very well in this life, but what will be 
 come of them in the next ? They too were sent to New 
 Orleans; but were afterwards redeemed, at an enormous 
 ransom, and brought back." Is it not plain, from this, 
 that the histories of Emmeline and Gassy may have many 
 counterparts 1 
 
 Justice, too, obliges the author to state that the fairness 
 of mind and generosity attributed to St. Clare are not with 
 out a parallel, as the following anecdote will show. A. few 
 years since, a young Southern gentleman was in Cincinnati, 
 with a favorite servant, who had been his personal attend 
 ant from a boy. The young man took advantage of this 
 opportunity to secure his own freedom, and fled to the 
 protection of a Quaker, who was quite noted in affairs of 
 this kind. The owner was exceedingly indignant. He 
 had always treated the slave with such indulgence, and his 
 confidence in his affection was such, that he believed he 
 must have been practiced upon to induce him to revolt 
 from him. He visited the Quaker, in high anger; but, 
 being possessed of uncommon candor and fairness, was 
 soon quieted by his arguments and representations. It 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
242 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 was a side of the subject which he never had heard, 
 never had thought on ; and he immediately told the Quaker 
 that if his slave would, to his own face, say that it was 
 his desire to be free, he would liberate him. An interview 
 was forthwith procured, and Nathan was asked by his 
 young master whether he had ever had any reason to com 
 plain of his treatment, in any respect. 
 
 "No, Mas r," said Nathan; "you ve always been good 
 to me." 
 
 "Well, then, why do you want to leave me? 7 
 
 "Mas r may die, and then who get me? I d rather 
 be a free man." 
 
 After some deliberation, the young master replied, 
 "Nathan, in your place, I think I should feel very much 
 so, myself. You are free." 
 
 He immediately made him out free papers, deposited a 
 sum of money in the hands of the Quaker, to be judi 
 ciously used in assisting him to start in life, and left a 
 very sensible and kind letter of advice to the young man. 
 That letter was for some time in the writer s hands. 
 
 The author hopes she has done justice to that nobility, 
 generosity, and humanity which in many cases character 
 ize individuals at the South. Such instances save us from 
 utter despair of our kind. But, she asks any person who 
 knows the world, are such characters common, anywhere 1 
 
 For many years of her life, the author avoided all read 
 ing upon or allusion to the subject of slavery, considering 
 it as too painful to be inquired into, and one which advan 
 cing light and civilization would certainly live down. But 
 since the legislative act of 1850, when she heard, with per 
 fect surprise and consternation, Christian and humane peo 
 ple actually recommending the remanding escaped fugitives 
 into slavery, as a duty binding on good citizens, when 
 she heard on all hands, from kind, compassionate, and es 
 timable people, in the free States of the North, delibera- 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 243 
 
 tions and discussions as to what Christian duty could be on 
 this head, she could only think, These men and Christians 
 cannot know what slavery is; if they did, such a question 
 could never be open for discussion. And from this arose 
 a desire to exhibit it in a living dramatic reality. She 
 has endeavored to show it fairly, in its best and its worst 
 phases. In its lest aspect, she has, perhaps, been suc 
 cessful; but, oh! who shall say what yet remains untold in 
 that valley and shadow of death that lies the other side ? 
 
 To you, generous, noble-minded men and women, of the 
 South, you, whose virtue, and magnanimity, and purity 
 of character are the greater for the severer trial it has 
 encountered, to you is her appeal. Have you not, in 
 your own secret souls, in your own private conversings, felt 
 that there are woes and evils, in this accursed system, far 
 beyond what are here shadowed, or can be shadowed? Can 
 it be otherwise ? Is man ever a creature to be trusted 
 with wholly irresponsible power 1 ? And does not the slave 
 system, by denying the slave all legal right of testimony, 
 make every individual owner an irresponsible despot 1 Can 
 anybody fail to make the inference what the practical re 
 sult will be 1 If there is, as we admit, a public sentiment 
 among you, men of honor, justice, and humanity, is there 
 not also another kind of public sentiment among the ruffian, 
 the brutal, and debased? And cannot the ruffian, the 
 brutal, the debased, by slave law, own just as many slaves 
 as the best and purest? Are the honorable, the just, the 
 high-minded and compassionate, the majority anywhere in 
 this world? 
 
 The slave-trade is now, by American law, considered as 
 piracy. But a slave - trade, as systematic as ever was 
 carried on on the coast of Africa, is an inevitable attend 
 ant and result of American slavery. And its heart-break 
 and its horrors can they be told ? 
 
 The writer has given only a faint shadow, a dim pic- 
 
244 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 ture, of the anguish and despair that are, at this very 
 moment, riving thousands of hearts, shattering thousands 
 of families, and driving a helpless and sensitive race to 
 frenzy and despair. There are those living who know the 
 mothers whom this accursed traffic has driven to the mur 
 der of their children ; and themselves seeking in death a 
 shelter from woes more dreaded than death. Nothing of 
 tragedy can be written, can be spoken, can be conceived, 
 that equals the frightful reality of scenes daily and hourly 
 acting on our shores, beneath the shadow of American 
 law and the shadow of the cross of Christ. 
 
 And now, men and women of America, is this a thing 
 to be trifled with, apologized for, and passed over in 
 silence ? Farmers of Massachusetts, of New Hampshire, of 
 Vermont, of Connecticut, who read this book by the blaze 
 of your winter evening fire, strong - hearted, generous 
 sailors and ship-owners of Maine, is this a thing for you 
 to countenance and encourage? Brave and generous men 
 of New York, farmers of rich and joyous Ohio, and ye of 
 the wide prairie States, answer, is this a thing for you to 
 protect and countenance 1 And you, mothers of America, 
 you, who have learned, by the cradles of your own chil 
 dren, to love and feel for all mankind, by the sacred 
 love you bear your child; by your joy in his beautiful, 
 spotless infancy ; by the motherly pity and tenderness with 
 which you guide his growing years ; by the anxieties of his 
 education; by the prayers you breathe for his soul s eternal 
 good ; I beseech you, pity the mother who has all your 
 affections, and not one legal right to protect, guide, or 
 educate the child of her bosom ! By the sick-hour of your 
 child ; by those dying eyes, which you can never forget ; 
 by those last cries, that wrung your heart when you could 
 neither help nor save; by the desolation of that empty 
 cradle, that silent nursery, I beseech you, pity those 
 mothers that are constantly made childless by the Ameri- 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 245 
 
 can slave-trade ! And say, mothers of America, is this a 
 thing to be defended, sympathized with, passed over in 
 silence ? 
 
 Do you say that the people of the free States have no 
 thing to do with it, and can do nothing ? Would to God 
 this were true! But it is not true. The people of the 
 free States have defended, encouraged, and participated; 
 and are more guilty for it, before God, than the South, in 
 that they have not the apology of education or custom. 
 
 If the mothers of the free States had all felt as they 
 should, in times past, the sons of the free States would 
 not have been the holders, and, proverbially, the hardest 
 masters of slaves; the sons of the free States would not 
 have connived at the extension of slavery, in our national 
 body; the sons of the free States would not, as they do, 
 trade the souls and bodies of men as an equivalent to 
 money, in their mercantile dealings. There are multitudes 
 of slaves temporarily owned, and sold again, by merchants 
 in Northern cities; and shall the whole guilt or obloquy of 
 slavery fall only on the South 1 
 
 Northern men, Northern mothers, Northern Christians, 
 have something more to do than denounce their brethren 
 at the South; they have to look to the evil among them 
 selves. 
 
 But, what can any individual do? Of that, every indi 
 vidual can judge. There is one thing that every individ 
 ual can do, they can see to it that they feel right. An 
 atmosphere of sympathetic influence encircles every human 
 being; and the man or woman who feels strongly, health 
 ily, and justly on the great interests of humanity is a con-; 
 stant benefactor to the human race. See, then, to your 
 sympathies in this matter! Are they in harmony with the 
 sympathies of Christ? or are they swayed and perverted 
 by the sophistries of worldly policy 1 
 m Christian men and women of the North ! still further, 
 
246 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 you have another power ; you can pray ! Do you believe 
 in prayer? or has it become an indistinct apostolic tradi 
 tion ? You pray for the heathen abroad ; pray also for the 
 heathen at home. And pray for those distressed Christians 
 whose whole chance of religious improvement is an acci 
 dent of trade and sale; from whom any adherence to the 
 morals of Christianity is, in many cases, an impossibility, 
 unless they have given them from above the courage and 
 grace of martyrdom. 
 
 But, still more. On the shores of our free States are 
 emerging the poor, shattered, broken remnants of families, 
 men and women escaped, by miraculous providences, 
 from the surges of slavery, feeble in knowledge, and in 
 many cases infirm in moral constitution, from a system 
 which confounds and confuses every principle of Christian 
 ity and morality. They come to seek a refuge among you; 
 they come to seek education, knowledge, Christianity. 
 
 What do you owe to these poor unfortunates, Chris 
 tians? Does not every American Christian owe to the 
 African race some effort at reparation for the wrongs that 
 the American nation has brought upon them ? Shall the 
 doors of churches and school-houses be shut upon them 1 ? 
 Shall States arise and shake them out? Shall the Church 
 of Christ hear in silence the taunt that is thrown at them, 
 and shrink away from the helpless hand that they stretch 
 out; and by her silence encourage the cruelty that would 
 chase them from our borders ? If it must be so, it will be 
 a mournful spectacle. If it must be so, the country will 
 have reason to tremble, when it remembers that the fate of 
 nations is in the hands of One who is very pitiful, and of 
 tender compassion. 
 
 Do you say, "We don t want them here; let them go to 
 Africa 1 
 
 That the providence of God has provided a refuge in 
 Africa, is, indeed, a great and noticeable fact; but that ^ is 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 247 
 
 no reason why the Church of Christ should throw off that 
 responsibility to this outcast race which her profession de 
 mands of her. 
 
 To fill up Liberia with an ignorant, inexperienced, half- 
 barbarized race, just escaped from the chains of slavery, 
 would be only to prolong, for ages, the period of struggle 
 and conflict which attends the inception of new enterprises. 
 Let the Church of the North receive these poor sufferers 
 in the spirit of Christ; receive them to the educating ad 
 vantages of Christian republican society and schools, until 
 they have attained to somewhat of a moral and intellectual 
 maturity, and then assist them in their passage to those 
 shores, where they may put in practice the lessons they 
 have learned in America. 
 
 There is a body of men at the North, comparatively 
 small, who have been doing this; and, as the result, this 
 country has already seen examples of men, formerly slaves, 
 who have rapidly acquired property, reputation, and edu 
 cation. Talent has been developed, which, considering the 
 circumstances, is certainly remarkable; and for moral traits 
 of honesty, kindness, tenderness of feeling, for heroic 
 efforts and self-denials, endured for the ransom of brethren 
 and friends yet in slavery, they have been remarkable, 
 to a degree that, considering the influence under which 
 they were born, is surprising. 
 
 The writer has lived, for many years, on the frontier- 
 line of slave States, and has had great opportunities of ob 
 servation among those who formerly were slaves. They 
 have been in her family as servants; and, in default of any 
 other school to receive them, she has, in many cases, had 
 them instructed in a family school, with her own children. 
 She has also the testimony of missionaries, among the 
 fugitives in Canada, in coincidence with her own experi 
 ence ; and her deductions, with regard to the capabilities of 
 the race, are encouraging in the highest degree. 
 
248 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 The first desire of the emancipated slave, generally, is 
 for education. There is nothing that they are not willing 
 to give or do to have their children instructed; and, so 
 far as the writer has observed herself, or taken the testi 
 mony of teachers among them, they are remarkably intelli 
 gent and quick to learn. The results of schools, founded 
 for them by benevolent individuals in Cincinnati, fully 
 establish this. 
 
 The author gives the following statement of facts, on 
 the authority of Professor C. E. Stowe, then of Lane Semi 
 nary, Ohio, with regard to emancipated slaves, now resi 
 dent in Cincinnati; given to show the capability of the 
 race, even without any very particular assistance or encour 
 agement. 
 
 The initial letters alone are given. They are all resi 
 dents of Cincinnati. 
 
 "B . Furniture-maker; twenty years in the city; 
 
 worth ten thousand dollars, all his own earnings; a Bap 
 tist. 
 
 "C . Full black; stolen from Africa; sold in New 
 
 Orleans; been free fifteen years; paid for himself six hun 
 dred dollars; a farmer; owns several farms in Indiana; 
 Presbyterian; probably worth fifteen or twenty thousand 
 dollars, all earned by himself. 
 
 "K . Full black; dealer in real estate; worth 
 
 thirty thousand dollars; about forty years old; free six 
 years ; paid eighteen hundred dollars for his family ; mem 
 ber of the Baptist Church; received a legacy from his 
 master, which he has taken good care of, and increased. 
 
 "G . Full black; coal-dealer; about thirty years 
 
 old; worth eighteen thousand dollars; paid for himself 
 twice, being once defrauded to the amount of sixteen hun 
 dred dollars ; made all his money by his own efforts, 
 much of it while a slave, hiring his time of his master, and 
 doing business for himself; a fine gentlemanly fellow. 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 249 
 
 "\V . Three fourths black; barber and waiter; 
 
 from Kentucky; nineteen years free; paid for self and 
 family over three thousand dollars; worth twenty thou 
 sand dollars, all his own earnings; deacon in the Baptist 
 Church. 
 
 "G. D . Three fourths black; white washer; from 
 
 Kentucky; nine years free; paid fifteen hundred dollars 
 for self and family ; recently died, aged sixty ; worth six 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 Professor Stowe says, "With all these, except G , I 
 
 have been, for some years, personally acquainted, and make 
 my statements from my own knowledge." 
 
 The writer well remembers an aged colored woman, who 
 was employed as a washerwoman in her father s family. 
 The daughter of this woman married a slave. She was a 
 remarkably active and capable young woman, and by her 
 industry and thrift, and the most persevering self-denial, 
 raised nine hundred dollars for her husband s freedom, 
 which she paid, as she raised it, into the hands of his mas 
 ter. She yet wanted a hundred dollars of the price, when 
 he died. She never recovered any of the money. 
 
 These are but few facts, among multitudes which might 
 be adduced, to show the self-denial, energy, patience, and 
 honesty which the slave has exhibited in a state of free 
 dom. 
 
 And let it be remembered that these individuals have 
 thus bravely succeeded in conquering for themselves com 
 parative wealth and social position, in the face of every dis 
 advantage and discouragement. The colored man, by the 
 law of Ohio, cannot be a voter, and, till within a few 
 years, was even denied the right of testimony in legal suits 
 with the white. Nor are these instances confined to the 
 State of Ohio. In all States of the Union we see men, but 
 yesterday burst from the shackles of slavery, who, by a 
 self-educating force, which cannot be too much admired, 
 
250 UNCLE TOM S CABIN; OR 
 
 have risen to highly respectable stations in society. Pen- 
 nington, among clergymen, Douglas and Warde, among 
 editors, are well-known instances. If this persecuted 
 race, with every discouragement and disadvantage, have 
 done thus much, how much more they might do if the 
 Christian Church would act towards them in the spirit of 
 her Lord! 
 
 This is an age of the world when nations are trembling 
 and convulsed. A mighty influence is abroad, surging and 
 heaving the world, as with an earthquake. And is 
 America safe ? Every nation that carries in its bosom great 
 and unredressed injustice has in it the elements of this last 
 convulsion. 
 
 For what is this mighty influence thus rousing in all 
 nations and languages those groanings that cannot be ut 
 tered, for man s freedom and equality? 
 
 O Church of Christ, read the signs of the times ! Is not 
 this power the spirit of HIM whose kingdom is yet to 
 come, and whose will is to be done on earth as it is in 
 heaven 1 
 
 But who may abide the day of his appearing? "For 
 that day shall burn as an oven : and he shall appear as a 
 swift witness against those that oppress the hireling in his 
 wages, the widow and the fatherless, and that turn aside 
 the stranger in his right : and he shall break in pieces the 
 oppressor." 
 
 Are not these dread words for a nation bearing in her 
 bosom so mighty an injustice? Christians! every time 
 that you pray that the kingdom of Christ may come, can 
 you forget that prophecy associates in dread fellowship 
 the day of vengeance with the year of his redeemed ? 
 
 A day of grace is yet held out to us. Both North and 
 South have been guilty before God; and the Christian 
 Church has a heavy account to answer. Not by com 
 bining together, to protect injustice and cruelty, and mak- 
 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY 251 
 
 ing a common capital of sin, is this Union to be saved, 
 but by repentance, justice, and mercy; for, not surer is 
 the eternal law by which the millstone sinks in the ocean, 
 than that stronger law by which injustice and cruelty shall 
 bring on nations the wrath of Almighty God! 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 PRESENTING THE ORIGINAL FACTS AND DOCU 
 MENTS UPON WHICH THE STORY IS FOUNDED 
 
 TOGETHER WITH CORROBORATIVE STATEMENTS VERIFY 
 ING THE TRUTH OF THE WORK 
 
 BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THE work which the writer here presents to the public is 
 one which has been written with no pleasure, and with 
 much pain. 
 
 In fictitious writing, it is possible to find refuge from the 
 hard and the terrible by inventing scenes and characters of 
 a more pleasing nature. No such resource is open in a work 
 of fact ; and the subject of this work is one on which the 
 truth, if told at all, must needs be very dreadful. There is 
 no bright side to slavery, as such. Those scenes which are 
 made bright by the generosity and kindness of masters and 
 mistresses would be brighter still if the element of slavery 
 were withdrawn. There is nothing picturesque or beauti 
 ful in the family attachment of old servants, which is not 
 to be found in countries where these servants are legally 
 free. The tenants on an English estate are often more fond 
 and faithful than if they were slaves. Slavery, therefore, 
 is not the element which forms the picturesque and beauti 
 ful of Southern life. What is peculiar to slavery, and dis- 
 
254 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 tinguishes it from free servitude, is evil, and only evil, and 
 that continually. 
 
 In preparing this work, it has grown much beyond the 
 author s original design. It has so far overrun its limits 
 that she has been obliged to omit one whole department, 
 that of the characteristics and developments of the 
 colored race in various countries and circumstances. This 
 is more properly the subject for a volume ; and she hopes 
 that such an one will soon be prepared by a friend to whom 
 she has transferred her materials. 
 
 The author desires to express her thanks particularly to 
 those legal gentlemen who have given her their assistance 
 and support in the legal part of the discussion. She also 
 desires to thank those, at the North and at the South, who 
 have kindly furnished materials for her use. Many more 
 have been supplied than could possibly be used. The book 
 is actually selected out of a mountain of materials. 
 
 The great object of the author in writing has been to 
 bring this subject of slavery, as a moral and religious ques 
 tion, before the minds of all those who profess to be follow 
 ers of Christ, in this country. A minute history has been 
 given of the action of the various denominations on this 
 subject. 
 
 The writer has aimed, as far as possible, to say what is 
 true, and only that, without regard to the effect which it 
 may have upon any person or party. She hopes that what 
 she has said will be examined without bitterness, in that 
 serious and earnest spirit which is appropriate for the ex 
 amination of so very serious a subject. It would be vain 
 for her to indulge the hope of being wholly free from error. 
 In the wide field which she has been called to go over, there 
 is a possibility of many mistakes. She can only say that 
 she has used the most honest and earnest endeavors to learn 
 the truth. 
 
 The book is commended to the candid attention and earn- 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 255 
 
 est prayers of all true Christians, throughout the world. 
 May they unite their prayers that Christendom may be 
 delivered from so great an evil as slavery ! 
 
 PART I 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 At different times, doubt has been expressed whether the 
 representations of " Uncle Tom s Cabin 7 are a fair repre 
 sentation of slavery as it at present exists. This work, 
 more, perhaps, than any other work of fiction that ever was 
 written, has been a collection and arrangement of real inci 
 dents, of actions really performed, of words and expres 
 sions really uttered, grouped together with reference to a 
 general result, in the same manner that the mosaic artist 
 groups his fragments of various stones into one general 
 picture. His is a mosaic of gems, this is a mosaic of 
 facts. 
 
 Artistically considered, it might not be best to point out 
 in which quarry and from which region each fragment of 
 the mosaic picture had its origin ; and it is equally unartis- 
 tic to disentangle the glittering web of fiction, and show out 
 of what real warp and woof it is woven, and with what real 
 coloring dyed. But the book had a purpose entirely tran 
 scending the artistic one, and accordingly encounters, at the 
 hands of the public, demands not usually made on fictitious 
 works. It is treated as a reality, sifted, tried, and 
 tested as a reality ; and therefore as a reality it may be 
 proper that it should be defended. 
 
 The writer acknowledges that the book is a very inade 
 quate representation of slavery ; and it is so, necessarily, for 
 this reason, that slavery, in some of its workings, is too 
 dreadful for the purposes of art. A work which should 
 represent it strictly as it is would be a work which could 
 
256 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 not be read. And all works which ever mean to give pleas 
 ure must draw a veil somewhere, or they cannot succeed. 
 
 The author will now proceed along the course of the 
 story, from the first page onward, and develop, as far as 
 possible, the incidents by which different parts were sug- 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ME. HALEY 
 
 In the very first chapter of the book we encounter the 
 character of the negro-trader, Mr. Haley. His name stands 
 at the head of this chapter as the representative of all the 
 different characters introduced in the work which exhibit the 
 trader, the kidnapper, the negro-catcher, the negro- whipper, 
 and all the other inevitable auxiliaries and indispensable 
 appendages of what is often called the " divinely instituted 
 relation " of slavery. The author s first personal observa 
 tion of this class of beings was somewhat as follows. 
 
 Several years ago, while one morning employed in the 
 duties of the nursery, a colored woman was announced. 
 She was ushered into the nursery, and the author thought, 
 on first survey, that a more surly, unpromising face she had 
 never seen. The woman was thoroughly black, thick-set, 
 firmly built, and with strongly marked African features. 
 Those who have been accustomed to read the expressions of 
 the African face know what a peculiar effect is produced by 
 a lowering, desponding expression upon its dark features. 
 It is like the shadow of a thunder-cloud. Unlike her race 
 generally, the woman did not smile when smiled upon, nor 
 utter any pleasant remark in reply to such as were addressed 
 to her. The youngest pet of the nursery, a boy about three 
 years old, walked up, and laid his little hand on her knee, 
 and seemed astonished not to meet the quick smile which 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 2o7 
 
 the negro almost always has in reserve for the little child. 
 The writer thought her very cross and disagreeable, and, 
 after a few moments silence, asked, with perhaps a little 
 impatience, " Do you want anything of me to-day ? " 
 
 " Here are some papers," said the woman, pushing them 
 towards her; " perhaps you would read them." 
 
 The first paper opened was a letter from a negro-trader in 
 Kentucky, stating concisely that he had waited about as 
 long as he could for her child ; that he wanted to start for 
 the South, and must get it off his hands ; that, if she would 
 send him two hundred dollars before the end of the week, 
 she should have it ; if not, that he would set it up at auc 
 tion, at the court-house door, on Saturday. He added, 
 also, that he might have got more than that for the child, 
 but that he was willing to let her have it cheap. 
 
 " What sort of a man is this ? " said the author to the 
 woman, when she had done reading the letter. 
 
 " Dunno, ma am ; great Christian, I know, member of 
 the Methodist church, anyhow." 
 
 The expression of sullen irony with which this was said 
 was a thing to be remembered. 
 
 " And how old is this child ? " said the author to her. 
 
 The woman looked at the little boy who had been stand 
 ing at her knee, with an expressive glance, and said, " She 
 will be three years old this summer." 
 
 On further inquiry into the history of the woman, it ap 
 peared that she had been set free by the will of her owners ; 
 that the child was legally entitled to freedom, but had been 
 seized on by the heirs of the estate. She was poor and 
 friendless, without money to maintain a suit, and the heirs, 
 of course, threw the child into the hands of the trader. 
 The necessary sum, it may be added, was all raised in the 
 small neighborhood which then surrounded the Lane Theo 
 logical Seminary, and the child was redeemed. 
 
 If the public would like a specimen of the correspondence 
 
258 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 which passes between these worthies, who are the principal 
 reliance of the community for supporting and extending the 
 institution of slavery, the following may be interesting as a 
 matter of literary curiosity. It was forwarded by Mr. M. 
 J. Thomas, of Philadelphia, to the " National Era," and 
 stated by him to be " a copy taken verbatim from the ori 
 ginal, found among the papers of the person to whom it 
 was addressed, at the time of his arrest and conviction, for 
 passing a variety of counterfeit bank-notes." 
 
 POOLSVILLE, MONTGOMERY Co., MD., 
 March 24, 1831. 
 
 DEAR SIR : I arrived home in safety with Louisa, John hav 
 ing been rescued from me, out of a two-story window, at twelve 
 o clock at night. I offered a reward of fifty dollars, and have 
 him here safe in jail. The persons who took him brought him 
 to Fredericktown jail. I wish you to write to no person in this 
 State but myself. Kephart and myself are determined to go the 
 whole hog for any negro you can find, and you must give me 
 the earliest information, as soon as you do find any. Enclosed 
 you will receive a handbill, and I can make a good bargain, if 
 you can find them. I will in all cases, as soon as a negro runs 
 off, send you a handbill immediately, so that you may be on the 
 look-out. Please tell the constable to go on with the sale of 
 John s property ; and, when the money is made, I will send on 
 an order to you for it. Please attend to this for me ; likewise 
 write to me, and inform me of any negro you think has run 
 away, no matter where you think he has come from, nor 
 how far, and I will try and find out his master. Let me 
 know where you think he is from, with all particular marks, 
 and if I don t find his master, Joe s dead I 
 
 Write to me about the crooked-fingered negro, and let me 
 know which hand and which finger, color, etc. ; likewise any 
 mark the fellow has who says he got away from the negro, 
 buyer, with his height and color, or any other you think has 
 run off. 
 
 Give my respects to your partner, and be sure you write to no 
 person but myself. If any person writes to you, you can inform 
 me of it, and I will try to buy from them. I think we can 
 make money, if we do business together ; for I have plenty of 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 259 
 
 money, if you can find plenty of negroes. Let me know if Dan 
 iel is still where he was, and if you have heard anything of 
 Francis since I left you. Accept for yourself iny regard and 
 esteem. 
 
 REUBEN B. CARLLEY. 
 JOHN C. SAUNDEKS. 
 
 This letter strikingly illustrates the character of these 
 fellow-patriots with whom the great men of our land have 
 been acting in conjunction, in carrying out the beneficent 
 provisions of the Fugitive Slave Law. 
 
 The writer has drawn in this work only one class of the 
 negro-traders. There are all varieties of them, up to the 
 great wholesale purchasers, who keep their large trading- 
 houses ; who are gentlemanly in manners and courteous in 
 address ; who, in many respects, often perform actions of 
 real generosity ; who consider slavery a very great evil, and 
 hope the country will at some time be delivered from it, 
 but who think that so long as clergyman and layman, saint 
 and sinner, are all agreed in the propriety and necessity of 
 slave-holding, it is better that the necessary trade in the 
 article be conducted by men of humanity and decency, than 
 by swearing, brutal men, of the Tom Loker school. These 
 men are exceedingly sensitive with regard to what they 
 consider the injustice of the world in excluding them from 
 good society, simply because they undertake to supply a 
 demand in the community which the bar, the press, and the 
 pulpit, all pronounce to be a proper one. In this respect, 
 society certainly imitates the unreasonableness of the ancient 
 Egyptians, who employed a certain class of men to prepare 
 dead bodies for embalming, but flew at them with sticks 
 and stones the moment the operation was over, on account 
 of the sacrilegious liberty which they had taken. If there 
 is an ill-used class of men in the world, it is certainly the 
 slave-traders ; for, if there is no harm in the institution of 
 
260 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 slavery, if it is a divinely appointed and honorable one, 
 like civil government and the family state, and like other 
 species of property relation, then there is no earthly rea 
 son why a man may not as innocently be a slave-trader as 
 any other kind of trader. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MR. AND MBS. SHELBY 
 
 It was the design of the writer, in delineating the do 
 mestic arrangements of Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, to show a 
 picture of the fairest side of slave-life, where easy indulgence 
 and good-natured forbearance are tempered by just discipline 
 and religious instruction, skillfully and judiciously imparted. 
 
 The writer did not come to her task without reading 
 much upon both sides of the question, and making a partic 
 ular effort to collect all the most favorable representations 
 of slavery which she could obtain. And, as the reader may 
 have a curiosity to examine some of the documents, the 
 writer will present them quite at large. There is no kind 
 of danger to the world in letting the very fairest side of 
 slavery be seen ; in fact, the horrors and barbarities which 
 are necessarily inherent in it are so terrible that one stands 
 absolutely in need of all the comfort which can be gained 
 from incidents like the subjoined, to save them from utter 
 despair of human nature. [Long extracts follow from 
 J. K. Paulding s " Letters on Slavery," and Ingraham s 
 "Travels in the Southwest."] 
 
 With regard to the character of Mrs. Shelby the writer 
 must say a few words. While traveling in Kentucky, a 
 few years since, some pious ladies expressed to her the same 
 sentiments with regard to slavery which the reader has 
 heard expressed by Mrs. Shelby. 
 
 There are many whose natural sense of justice cannot be 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 261 
 
 made to tolerate the enormities of the system, even though 
 they hear it defended by clergymen from the pulpit, and 
 see it countenanced by all that is most honorable in rank 
 and wealth. 
 
 A pious lady said to the author, with regard to instructing 
 her slaves, " I am ashamed to teach them what is right ; I 
 know that they know as well as I do that it is wrong to 
 hold them as slaves, and I am ashamed to look them in 
 the face." Pointing to an intelligent mulatto woman who 
 passed through the room, she continued, " Now, there & 
 
 B . She is as intelligent and capable as any white 
 
 woman I ever knew, and as well able to have her liberty 
 and take care of herself ; and she knows it is n t right to 
 keep her as we do, and I know it too ; and yet I cannot 
 get my husband to think as I do, or I should be glad to set 
 them free." 
 
 A venerable friend of the writer, a lady born and educated 
 a slave-holder, used to the writer the very words attributed 
 to Mrs. Shelby : " I never thought it was right to hold 
 slaves. I always thought it was wrong when I was a girl, 
 and I thought so still more when I came to join the church." 
 An incident related by this friend of her examination for 
 the church shows in a striking manner what a difference 
 may often exist between theoretical and practical benevo 
 lence. 
 
 A certain class of theologians in America have advocated 
 the doctrine of disinterested benevolence with such zeal as 
 to make it an imperative article of belief that every individ 
 ual ought to be willing to endure everlasting misery, if by 
 doing so they could, on the whole, produce a greater amount 
 of general good in the universe ; and the inquiry was some 
 times made of candidates for church-membership whether 
 they could bring themselves to this point, as a test of their 
 sincerity. The clergyman who was to examine this lady 
 was particularly interested in these speculations. When he 
 
262 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 came to inquire of her with regard to her views as to the 
 obligations of Christianity, she informed him decidedly that 
 she had brought her mind to the point of emancipating all 
 her slaves, of whom she had a large number. The clergy 
 man seemed rather to consider this as an excess of zeal, and 
 recommended that she should take time to reflect upon it. 
 He was, however, very urgent to know whether, if it should 
 appear for the greatest good of the universe, she would be 
 willing to be damned. Entirely unaccustomed to theological 
 speculations, the good woman answered, with some vehe 
 mence, that "she was sure she was not; " adding, naturally 
 enough, that if that had been her purpose she need not 
 have come to join the church. The good lady, however, 
 was admitted, and proved her devotion to the general good 
 by the more tangible method of setting all her slaves at 
 liberty, and carefully watching over their education and 
 interests after they were liberated. 
 
 Mrs. Shelby is a fair type of the very best class of South 
 ern women ; and while the evils of the institution are felt 
 and deplored, and while the world looks with just indigna 
 tion on the national support and patronage which is given 
 to it, and on the men who, knowing its nature, deliberately 
 make efforts to perpetuate and extend it, it is but justice 
 that it should bear in mind the virtues of such persons. 
 
 Many of them, surrounded by circumstances over which 
 they can have no control, perplexed by domestic cares of 
 which women in free States can have very little conception, 
 loaded down by duties and responsibilities which wear upon 
 the very springs of life, still go on bravely and patiently 
 from day to day, doing all they can to alleviate what they 
 cannot prevent, and, as far as the sphere of their own im 
 mediate power extends, rescuing those who are dependent 
 upon them from the evils of the system. 
 
 We read of Him who shall at last come to judgment, 
 that " His fan is in his hand, and he will thoroughly purge 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 263 
 
 his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner." Out of 
 the great abyss of national sin he will rescue every grain of 
 good and honest purpose and intention. His eyes, which 
 are as a flame of fire, penetrate at once those intricate mazes 
 where human judgment is lost, and will save and honor at 
 last the truly good and sincere, however they may have 
 been involved with the evil ; and such souls as have resisted 
 the greatest temptations, and persisted in good under the 
 most perplexing circumstances, are those of whom he has 
 written, " And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, 
 in that day when I make up my jewels ; and I will spare 
 them as a man spareth his own son that serveth him." 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 GEORGE HARRIS 
 
 With regard to the incidents of George Harris s life, 
 that he may not be supposed a purely exceptional case, we 
 propose to offer some parallel facts from the lives of slaves 
 of our personal acquaintance. 
 
 Lewis Clark is an acquaintance of the writer. Soon 
 after his escape from slavery, he was received into the 
 family of a sister-in-law of the author, and there educated. 
 His conduct during this time was such as to win for him 
 uncommon affection and respect, and the author has fre 
 quently heard him spoken of in the highest terms by all 
 who knew him. The gentleman in whose family he so 
 long resided says of him, in a recent letter to the writer, 
 "I would trust him, as the saying is, with untold gold." 
 
 Lewis is a quadroon, a fine-looking man, with European 
 features, hair slightly wavy, and with an intelligent, agree 
 able expression of countenance. 
 
 The reader is now desired to compare the following inci- 
 
264 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 dents of his life, part of which he related personally to the 
 author, with the incidents of the life of George Harris. 
 
 His mother was a handsome quadroon woman, the daugh 
 ter of her master, and given by him in marriage to a free 
 white man, a Scotchman, with the express understanding 
 that she and her children were to be free. This engage 
 ment, if made sincerely at all, was never complied with. 
 His mother had nine children, and, on the death of her 
 husband, came back, with all these children, as slaves in 
 her father s house. A married daughter of the family, who 
 was the dread of the whole household on account of the 
 violence of her temper, had taken from the family, upon 
 her marriage, a young girl. By the violence of her abuse 
 she soon reduced the child to a state of idiocy, and then 
 came imperiously back to her father s establishment, de 
 claring that the child was good for nothing, and that she 
 would have another ; and, as poor Lewis s evil star would 
 have it, fixed her eye upon him. 
 
 To avoid one of her terrible outbreaks of temper, the 
 family offered up this boy as a pacificatory sacrifice. The 
 incident is thus described by Lewis, in a published narra 
 tive : 
 
 " Every boy was ordered in, to pass before this female sorcer 
 ess, that she might select a victim for her unprovoked malice, 
 and on whom to pour the vials of her wrath for years. I was 
 that unlucky fellow. Mr. Campbell, my grandfather, objected, 
 because it would divide a family, and ottered her Moses ; . . . 
 but objections and claims of every kind were swept away by the 
 wild passion and shrill-toned voice of Mrs. B. Me she would 
 have, and none else. Mr. Campbell went out to hunt, and 
 drive away bad thoughts ; the old lady became quiet, for she 
 was sure none of her blood run in my veins, and, if there was 
 any of her husband s there, it was no fault of hers. Slave- 
 holding women are always revengeful toward the children of 
 slaves that have any of the blood of their husbands in them. 
 I was too young only seven years of age to understand 
 what was going on. But my poor and affectionate mother 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 265 
 
 understood and appreciated it all. When she left the kitchen 
 of the mansion-house, where she was employed as cook, and 
 came home to her own little cottage, the tear of anguish was 
 in her eye, and the image of sorrow upon every feature of her 
 face. She knew the female Nero whose rod was now to be 
 over me. That night sleep departed from her eyes. With the 
 youngest child clasped firmly to her bosom, she spent the night 
 in walking the floor, coming ever and anon to lift up the clothes 
 and look at me and my poor brother, who lay sleeping together. 
 Sleeping, I said. Brother slept, but not I. I saw my mother 
 when she first came to me, and I could not sleep. The vision 
 of that night its deep, ineffaceable impression is now 
 before my mind with all the distinctiveness of yesterday. In 
 the morning I was put into the carriage with Mrs. B. and her 
 children, and my weary pilgrimage of suffering was fairly 
 begun." 
 
 Mrs. Banton is a character that can only exist where the 
 laws of the land clothe with absolute power the coarsest, 
 most brutal, and violent-tempered, equally with the most 
 generous and humane. 
 
 With regard to the intelligence of George, and his teach 
 ing himself to read and write, there is a most interesting 
 and affecting parallel to it in the " Life of Frederick Doug 
 lass," a book which can be recommended to any one who 
 has a curiosity to trace the workings of an intelligent and 
 active mind through all the squalid misery, degradation, and 
 oppression of slavery. 
 
 Let the reader peruse the account which George Harris 
 gives of the sale of his mother and her children, and then 
 read the following account given by the venerable Josiah 
 Henson, now pastor of the missionary settlement at Dawn, 
 in Canada. 
 
 After the death of his master, he says, the slaves of the 
 plantation were all put up at auction and sold to the highest 
 bidder. 
 
266 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 " My brothers and sisters were bid off one by one, while my 
 mother, holding my hand, looked on in an agony of grief, the 
 cause of which I but ill understood at first, but which dawned 
 on my mind with dreadful clearness as the sale proceeded. My 
 mother was then separated from me, and put up in her turn. 
 She was bought by a man named Isaac R., residing in Mont 
 gomery County [Maryland], and then I was offered to the as 
 sembled purchasers. My mother, half distracted with the part 
 ing forever from all her children, pushed through the crowd, 
 while the bidding for me was going on, to the spot where 
 R. was standing. She fell at his feet, and clung to his knees, 
 entreating him, in tones that a mother only could command, 
 to buy her baby as well as herself, and spare to her one of 
 her little ones at least. Will it, can it be believed, that this 
 man. thus appealed to, was capable not merely of turning a 
 deaf ear to her supplication, but of disengaging himself from 
 her with such violent blows and kicks as to reduce her to the 
 necessity of creeping out of his reach, and mingling the groan 
 of bodily suffering with the sob of a breaking heart ? " 
 
 Now, all these incidents that have been given are real 
 incidents of slavery, related by those who know slavery by 
 the best of all tests experience ; and they are given by 
 men who have earned a character in freedom which makes 
 their word as good as the word of any man living. 
 
 Doubt has been expressed whether such a thing as an 
 advertisement for a man, " dead or alive" like the adver 
 tisement for George Harris, was ever published in the South 
 ern States. The scene of the story in which that occurs is 
 supposed to be laid a few years back, at the time when the 
 black laws of Ohio were passed. That at this time such 
 advertisements were common in the newspapers, there is 
 abundant evidence. That they are less common now is a 
 matter of hope and gratulation. 
 
 In the year 1839, Mr. Theodore D. Weld made a system 
 atic attempt to collect and arrange the statistics of slavery. 
 A mass of facts and statistics was gathered, which were 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 267 
 
 authenticated with the most unquestionable accuracy. Some 
 of the " one thousand witnesses," whom he brings upon the 
 stand, were ministers, lawyers, merchants, and men of various 
 other callings, who were either natives of the slave States, 
 or had been residents there for many years of their life. 
 Many of these were slave-holders. Others of the witnesses 
 were, or had been, slave-drivers, or officers of coasting-vessels 
 engaged in the slave-trade. 
 
 Another part of his evidence was gathered from public 
 speeches in Congress, in the state legislatures, and elsewhere. 
 But the majority of it was taken from recent newspapers. 
 
 The papers from which these facts were copied were pre 
 served and put on file in a public place, where they re 
 mained for some years, for the information of the curious. 
 After Mr. Weld s book was completed, a copy of it was sent, 
 through the mail, to every editor from whose paper such 
 advertisements had been taken, and to every individual of 
 whom any facts had been narrated, with the passages which 
 concerned them marked. 
 
 It is quite possible that this may have had some influence 
 in rendering such advertisements less common. Men of 
 sense often go on doing a thing which is very absurd, or 
 even inhuman, simply because it has always been done be 
 fore them, and they follow general custom, without much 
 reflection. When their attention, however, is called to it 
 by a stranger who sees the thing from another point of view, 
 they become immediately sensible of the impropriety of the 
 practice, and discontinue it. The reader will, however, be 
 pained to notice, when he comes to the legal part of the 
 book, that even in some of the largest cities of our slave 
 States this barbarity had not been entirely discontinued in 
 the year 1850. 
 
 The list of advertisements in Mr. Weld s book is here 
 inserted, not to weary the reader with its painful details, 
 but that, by running his eyes over the dates of the papers 
 
268 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 quoted, and the places of their publication, he may form a 
 fair estimate of the extent to which this atrocity was pub 
 licly practiced. 
 
 The " Wilmington (North Carolina) Advertiser " of July 13, 
 1838, contains the following advertisement : 
 
 $100 will be paid to any person who may apprehend and 
 safely confine in any jail in this State a certain negro man, named 
 ALFRED. And the same reward will be paid, if satisfactory 
 evidence is given of Ms having been KILLED. He has one or 
 more scars on one of his hands, caused by his having been shot. 
 
 THE CITIZENS OF ONSLOW. 
 
 Richlands, Onslow Co., May 16, 1838. 
 
 In the same column with the above, and directly under it, is 
 the following : 
 
 RAXAWAY, my negro man RICHARD. A reward of $25 will 
 be paid for his apprehension, DEAD or ALIVE. Satisfactory 
 proof will only be required of his being KILLED. He has with 
 him, in all probability, his wife, ELIZA, who ran away from Col. 
 Thompson, now a resident of Alabama, about the time he com 
 menced his journey to that State. DURANT H. RHODES. 
 
 In the " Macon (Georgia) Telegraph," May 28, is the follow 
 ing : 
 
 About the 1st of March last the negro man RANSOM left 
 me without the least provocation whatever ; I will give a reward 
 of twenty dollars for said negro, if taken, DEAD OR ALIVE, 
 and if killed in any attempt, an advance of five dollars will be 
 paid. BRYANT JOHNSOX. 
 
 Crawford Co., Georgia. 
 
 See the " Newbern (N. C.) Spectator," January 5, 1838, for 
 the following : 
 
 RAX A WAY from the subscriber, a negro man named 
 SAMPSON. Fifty dollars reward will be given for the delivery 
 of him to me, or his confinement in any jail, so that I get him ; 
 and should he resist in being taken, so that violence is necessary 
 to arrest him, I will not hold any person liable for damages 
 should the slave be KILLED. ENOCH FOY. 
 
 Jones Co., N. C. 
 
 From the " Charleston (S. C.) Courier," February 20, 1836 : 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 269 
 
 $300 REWARD. Ranaway from the subscriber, in No 
 vember last, his two negro men, named Billy and Pompey. 
 
 Billy is 25 years old, and is known as the patroon of my boat 
 for many years ; in all probability he may resist ; in that event 
 50 dollars will be paid for his HEAD. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ELIZA 
 
 The writer stated in her book that Eliza was a portrait 
 drawn from life. The incident which brought the original 
 to her notice may be simply narrated. 
 
 While the writer was traveling in Kentucky, many years 
 ago, she attended church in a small country town. While 
 there, her attention was called to a beautiful quadroon girl, 
 who sat in one of the slips of the church, and appeared to 
 have charge of some young children. The description of 
 Eliza may suffice for a description of her. When the author 
 returned from church, she inquired about the girl, and was 
 told that she was as good and amiable as she was beautiful ; 
 that she was a pious girl, and a member of the church ; and 
 finally, that she was owned by Mr. So-and-so. The idea 
 that this girl was a slave struck a chill to her heart, and she 
 said, earnestly, " Oh, I hope they treat her kindly. 7 
 
 " Oh, certainly," was the reply ; " they think as much of 
 her as of their own children." 
 
 " I hope they will never sell her," said a person in the 
 company. 
 
 " Certainly they will not ; a Southern gentleman, not long 
 ago, offered her master a thousand dollars for her ; but he 
 told him that she was too good to be his wife, and he cer 
 tainly should not have her for a mistress." 
 
 This is all that the writer knows of that girl. 
 
 With regard to the incident of Eliza s crossing the river 
 on the ice, as the possibility of the thing has been dis- 
 
270 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 puted, the writer gives the following circumstance in con 
 firmation. 
 
 Last spring, while the author was in New York, a Pres 
 byterian clergyman, of Ohio, came to her, and said, " I un 
 derstand they dispute that fact about the woman s crossing 
 the river. Now, I know all about that, for I got the story 
 from the very man that helped her up the bank. I know 
 it is true, for she is now living in Canada." 
 
 It has been objected that the representation of the scene 
 in which the plan for kidnapping Eliza is concocted by Haley, 
 Marks, and Loker, at the tavern, is a gross caricature on the 
 state of things in Ohio. 
 
 What knowledge the author has had of the facilities which 
 some justices of the peace, under the old fugitive law of 
 Ohio, were in the habit of giving to kidnapping, may be 
 inferred by comparing the statement in her book with some 
 in her personal knowledge. 
 
 " Ye see," said Marks to Haley, stirring his punch as he did 
 so, "ye see, we has justices convenient at all p ints alongshore, 
 that does up any little jobs in our line quite reasonable. Tom, 
 he does the knockin down, and that ar; and I come in all 
 dressed up, shining boots, everything first chop, when 
 the swearin s to be done. You oughter see, now," said Marks, 
 in a glow of professional pride, " how I can tone it off. One 
 day I m Mr. Twickem, from New Orleans ; nother day, I m 
 just come from my plantation on Pearl River, where I works 
 seven hundred niggers ; then, again, I come out a distant rela 
 tion of Henry Clay, or some old cock in Kentuck. Talents is 
 different, you know. Now, Tom s a roarer when there s any 
 thumping or fighting to be done ; but at lying he ain t good, Tom 
 ain t, ye see it don t come natural to him ; but, Lord, if thar s 
 a feller in the country that can swear to anything and every 
 thing, and put in all the circumstances and flourishes with a 
 longer face, and carry t through better n I can, why, I d like to 
 see him, that s all ! I b lieve my heart, I could get along and 
 snake through, even if justices were more particular than they is. 
 Sometimes I rather wish they was more particular ; t would be 
 a heap more relishin if they was, more fun, yer know." 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 271 
 
 In the year 1839, the writer received into her family, as 
 a servant, a girl from Kentucky. She had been the slave 
 of one of the lowest and most brutal families, with whom 
 she had been brought up, in a log-cabin, in a state of half- 
 barbarism. In proceeding to give her religious instruction, 
 the author heard, for the first time in her life, an inquiry 
 which she had not supposed possible to be made in America : 
 " Who is Jesus Christ, now, anyhow ? " 
 
 When the author told her the history of the love and life 
 and death of Christ, the girl seemed wholly overcome ; tears 
 streamed down her cheeks ; and she exclaimed piteously, 
 " Why did n t nobody never tell me this before ? " 
 
 "But," said the writer to her, "haven t you ever seen 
 the Bible ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have seen missus a-readin on t sometimes ; but, 
 law sakes ! she s just a-readin on t cause she could; don t 
 s pose it did her no good, no way." 
 
 She said she had been to one or two camp-meetings in 
 her life, but " did n t notice very particular." 
 
 At all events, the story certainly made great impression 
 on her, and had such an effect in improving her conduct 
 that the writer had great hopes of her. 
 
 On inquiring into her history, it was discovered that, by 
 the laws of Ohio, she was legally entitled to her freedom, 
 from the fact of her having been brought into the State, 
 and left there temporarily, by the consent of her mistress. 
 These facts being properly authenticated before the proper 
 authorities, papers attesting her freedom were drawn up, 
 and it was now supposed that all danger of pursuit was over. 
 After she had remained in the family for some months, word 
 was sent, from various sources, to Professor Stowe, that the 
 girl s young master was over, looking for her, and that, if 
 care were not taken, she would be conveyed back into 
 slavery. 
 
 Professor Stowe called on the magistrate who had authen- 
 
272 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 ticated her papers, and inquired whether they were not suf 
 ficient to protect her. The reply was, " Certainly they are, 
 in law, if she could have a fair hearing ; but they will come 
 to your house in the night, with an officer and a warrant ; 
 
 they will take her before Justice D , and swear to her. 
 
 He 7 s the man that does all this kind of business, and he 11 
 deliver her up, and there 11 be an end to it." 
 
 Mr. Stowe then inquired what could be done ; and was 
 recommended to carry her to some place of security till 
 the inquiry for her was over. Accordingly, that night, a 
 brother of the author, with Professor Stowe, performed for 
 the fugitive that office which the senator is represented as 
 performing for Eliza. They drove about ten miles on a 
 solitary road, crossed the creek at a very dangerous fording, 
 and presented themselves, at midnight, at the house of John 
 Van Zandt, a noble-minded Kentuckian, who had performed 
 the good deed which the author, in her story, ascribes to 
 Van Tromp. 
 
 After some rapping at the door, the worthy owner of 
 the mansion appeared, candle in hand, as has been nar 
 rated. 
 
 " Are you the man that would save a poor colored girl 
 from kidnappers ? " was the first question. 
 
 " Guess I am," was the prompt response ; " where is 
 she ? " 
 
 " Why, she s here." 
 
 " But how did you come ? " 
 
 " I crossed the creek." 
 
 "Why, the Lord help you!" said he; "I shouldn t 
 dare cross it myself in the night. A man and his wife, 
 and five children, were drowned there, a little while ago." 
 
 The reader may be interested to know that the poor girl 
 never was retaken ; that she married well in Cincinnati, is 
 a very respectable woman, and the mother of a large family 
 of children. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 273 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 UNCLE TOM 
 
 The character of Uncle Tom has been objected to as 
 improbable ; and yet the writer has received more confir 
 mations of that character, and from a greater variety of 
 sources, than of any other in the book. 
 
 Many people have said to her, " I knew an Uncle Tom 
 in such and such a Southern State." All the histories of 
 this kind which have thus been related to her would of 
 themselves, if collected, make a small volume. The author 
 will relate a few of them. 
 
 While visiting in an obscure town in Maine, in the family 
 of a friend, the conversation happened to turn upon this 
 subject, and the gentleman with whose family she was stay 
 ing related the following. He said that, when on a visit to 
 his brother in New Orleans some years before, he found in 
 his possession a most valuable negro man, of such remark 
 able probity and honesty that his brother literally trusted 
 him with all he had. He had frequently seen him take 
 out a handful of bills, without looking at them, and hand 
 them to this servant, bidding him go and provide what was 
 necessary for the family, and bring him the change. He 
 remonstrated with his brother on this imprudence ; but the 
 latter replied that he had had such proof of this servant s 
 impregnable conscientiousness that he felt it safe to trust 
 him to any extent. 
 
 The history of the servant was this. He had belonged 
 to a man in Baltimore, who, having a general prejudice 
 against all the religious exercises of slaves, did all that he 
 could to prevent his having any time for devotional duties, 
 and strictly forbade him to read the Bible and pray, either 
 by himself, or with the other servants ; and because, like a 
 certain man of old, named Daniel, he constantly disobeyed 
 
274 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 this unchristian edict, his master inflicted upon him that 
 punishment which a master always has in his power to 
 inflict, he sold him into perpetual exile from his wife and 
 children, down to New Orleans. 
 
 The gentleman who gave the writer this information says 
 that, although not himself a religious man at the time, he 
 was so struck with the man s piety that he said to his 
 brother, "I hope you will never do anything to deprive 
 this man of his religious privileges, for I think a judgment 
 will come upon you if you do." To this his brother replied 
 that he should be very foolish to do it, since he had made 
 up his mind that the man s religion was the root of his ex 
 traordinary excellences. 
 
 A last instance parallel with that of Uncle Tom is to be 
 found in the published memoirs of the venerable Josiah 
 Henson, now, as we have said, a clergyman in Canada. He 
 was " raised " in the State of Maryland. His first recollec 
 tions were of seeing his father mutilated and covered with 
 blood, suffering the penalty of the law for the crime of 
 raising his hand against a white man, that white man be 
 ing the overseer, who had attempted a brutal assault upon 
 his mother. This punishment made his father surly and 
 dangerous, and he was subsequently sold South, and thus 
 parted forever from his wife and children. Henson grew 
 up in a state of heathenism, without any religious instruc 
 tion, till, in a camp-meeting, he first heard of Jesus Christ, 
 and was electrified by the great and thrilling news that He 
 had tasted death for every man, the bond as well as the 
 free. This story produced an immediate conversion, such as 
 we read of in the Acts of the Apostles, where the Ethiopian 
 eunuch, from one interview, hearing the story of the cross, 
 at once believes and is baptized. Henson forthwith not 
 only became a Christian, but began to declare the news to 
 those about him ; and, being a man of great natural force 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 275 
 
 of mind and strength of character, his earnest endeavors to 
 enlighten his fellow heathen were so successful that he was 
 gradually led to assume the station of a negro preacher ; 
 and though he could not read a word of the Bible or 
 hymn-book, his labors in this line were much prospered. 
 He became immediately a very valuable slave to his master, 
 and was intrusted by the latter with the oversight of his 
 whole estate, which he managed with great judgment and 
 prudence. His master appears to have been a very ordinary 
 man in every respect, to have been entirely incapable of 
 estimating him in any other light than as exceedingly valu 
 able property, and to have had no other feeling excited by 
 his extraordinary faithfulness than the desire to make the 
 most of him. When his affairs became embarrassed, he 
 formed the design of removing all his negroes into Kentucky, 
 and intrusted the operation entirely to his overseer. Hen- 
 son was to take them alone, without any other attendant, 
 from Maryland to Kentucky, a distance of some thousands 
 of miles, giving only his promise as a Christian that he 
 would faithfully perform this undertaking. On the way 
 thither they passed through a portion of Ohio, and there 
 Henson was informed that he could now secure his own free 
 dom and that of all his fellows, and he was strongly urged 
 to do it. He was exceedingly tempted and tried, but his 
 Christian principle was invulnerable. No inducements could 
 lead him to feel that it was right for a Christian to violate 
 a pledge solemnly given, and his influence over the whole 
 band was so great that he took them all with him into Ken 
 tucky. Those casuists among us who lately seem to think 
 and teach that it is right for us to violate the plain com 
 mands of God whenever some great national good can be 
 secured by it would do well to contemplate the inflexible 
 principle of this poor slave, who, without being able to read 
 a letter of the Bible, was yet enabled to perform this most 
 sublime act of self-renunciation in obedience to its commands. 
 
276 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Subsequently to this, his master, in a relenting moment, 
 was induced by a friend to sell him his freedom for four 
 hundred dollars ; but when the excitement of the impor 
 tunity had passed off, he regretted that he had suffered so 
 valuable a piece of property to leave his hands for so 
 slight a remuneration. By an unworthy artifice, therefore, 
 he got possession of his servant s free papers, and con 
 demned him still to hopeless slavery. 
 
 The vision attributed to Uncle Tom introduces quite a 
 curious chapter of psychology with regard to the negro race, 
 and indicates a peculiarity which goes far to show how very 
 different they are from the white race. They are possessed 
 of a nervous organization peculiarly susceptible and impres 
 sible. Their sensations and impressions are very vivid, and 
 their fancy and imagination lively. In this respect the race 
 has an oriental character, and betrays its tropical origin. 
 Like the Hebrews of old and the oriental nations of the 
 present, they give vent to their emotions with the utmost 
 vivacity of expression, and their whole bodily system sym 
 pathizes with the movements of their minds. When in 
 distress, they actually lift up their voices to weep, and " cry 
 with an exceeding bitter cry." When alarmed, they are 
 often paralyzed, and rendered entirely helpless. Their reli 
 gious exercises are all colored by this sensitive and exceed 
 ingly vivacious temperament. Like oriental nations, they 
 incline much to outward expressions, violent gesticulations, 
 and agitating movements of the body. Sometimes, in their 
 religious meetings, they will spring from the floor many 
 times in succession, with a violence and rapidity which is 
 perfectly astonishing. They will laugh, weep, embrace each 
 other convulsively, and sometimes become entirely paralyzed 
 and cataleptic. A clergyman from the North once remon 
 strated with a Southern clergyman for permitting such ex 
 travagances among his flock. The reply of the Southern 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 277 
 
 minister was, in effect, this : " Sir, I am satisfied that the 
 races are so essentially different that they cannot be regulated 
 by the same rules. I at first felt as you do ; and, though 
 I saw that genuine conversions did take place, with all this 
 outward manifestation, I was still so much annoyed by it as 
 to forbid it among my negroes, till I was satisfied that the 
 repression of it was a serious hindrance to real religious 
 feeling ; and then I became certain that all men cannot be 
 regulated in their religious exercises by one model. I am 
 assured that conversions produced with these accessories are 
 quite as apt to be genuine, and to be as influential over the 
 heart and life, as those produced in any other way." The 
 fact is that the Anglo-Saxon race cool, logical, and prac 
 tical have yet to learn the doctrine of toleration for the 
 peculiarities of other races ; and perhaps it was with a fore 
 sight of their peculiar character, and dominant position in 
 the earth, that God gave the Bible to them in the fervent 
 language and with the glowing imagery of the more suscep 
 tible and passionate oriental races. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MISS OPHELIA 
 
 Miss OPHELIA stands as the representative of a numer 
 ous class of the very best of Northern people ; to whom, 
 perhaps, if our Lord should again address his churches a 
 letter, as He did those of old time, He would use the same 
 words as then : " I know thy works, and thy labor, and 
 thy patience, and how thou canst not bear them which are 
 evil ; and thou hast tried them which are apostles and are 
 not, and hast found them liars : and hast borne, and hast 
 patience, and for my name s sake hast labored and hast not 
 fainted. Nevertheless, I have somewhat against thee, be 
 cause thou hast left thy first love." 
 
278 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 There are in this class of people activity, zeal, unflinch 
 ing conscientiousness, clear intellectual discriminations be 
 tween truth and error, and great logical and doctrinal cor 
 rectness ; but there is a want of that spirit of love, without 
 which, in the eye of Christ, the most perfect character is as 
 deficient as a wax flower * wanting in life and perfume. 
 
 Yet this blessed principle is not dead in their hearts, but 
 only sleepeth ; and so great is the real and genuine good 
 ness that when the true magnet of divine love is applied, 
 they always answer to its touch. 
 
 So when the gentle Eva, who is an impersonation in 
 childish form of the love of Christ, solves at once, by a 
 blessed instinct, the problem which Ophelia has long been 
 unable to solve by dint of utmost hammering and vehe 
 ment effort, she at once, with a good and honest heart, 
 perceives and acknowledges her mistake, and is willing to 
 learn even of a little child. 
 
 Miss Ophelia, again, represents one great sin, of which, 
 unconsciously, American Christians have allowed themselves 
 to be guilty. Unconsciously it must be, for nowhere is 
 conscience so predominant as among this class, and nowhere 
 is there a more honest strife to bring every thought into 
 captivity to the obedience of Christ. 
 
 One of the first and most declared objects of the gospel 
 has been to break down all those irrational barriers and 
 prejudices which separate the human brotherhood into di 
 verse and contending clans. Paul says, " In Christ Jesus 
 there is neither Jew nor Greek, barbarian, Scythian, bond 
 nor free." The Jews at that time were separated from the 
 Gentiles by an insuperable wall of prejudice. They could 
 not eat and drink together nor pray together. But the 
 apostles most earnestly labored to show them the sin of this 
 prejudice. St. Paul says to the Ephesians, speaking of 
 this former division, " He is our peace, who hath made 
 both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of parti 
 tion between us." 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOAl s CABIN 279 
 
 It is very easy to see that although slavery has been 
 abolished in the New England States, it has left behind it 
 the most baneful feature of the system, that which makes 
 American worse than Roman slavery, the prejudice of 
 caste and color. In the New England States the negro 
 has been treated as belonging to an inferior race of beings ; 
 forced to sit apart by himself in the place of worship ; 
 his children excluded from the schools ; himself excluded 
 from the railroad-car and the omnibus, and the peculiarities 
 of his race made the subject of bitter contempt and ridicule. 
 
 Not long since the writer called upon a benevolent lady, 
 and during the course of the call the conversation turned 
 upon the incidents of a fire which had occurred the night 
 before in the neighborhood. A deserted house had been 
 burned to the ground. The lady said it was supposed it 
 had been set on fire. " What could be any one s motive 
 for setting it on fire ? " said the writer. 
 
 "Well," replied the lady, "it was supposed that a col 
 ored family was about to move into it, and it was thought 
 that the neighborhood wouldn t consent .to that. So it 
 was supposed that was the reason." 
 
 This was said with an air of innocence and much un 
 concern. 
 
 The writer inquired, " Was it a family of bad char 
 acter ? " 
 
 " No, not particularly, that I know of," said the lady ; 
 " but then they are negroes, you know." 
 
 Now, this lady is a very pious lady. She probably 
 would deny herself to send the gospel to the heathen, and 
 if she had ever thought of considering this family a 
 heathen family, would have felt the deepest interest in 
 their welfare ; because on the subject of duty to the 
 heathen she had been frequently instructed from the pulpit, 
 and had all her religious and conscientious sensibilities 
 
280 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 awake. Probably she had never listened from the pulpit 
 to a sermon which should exhibit the great truth, that 
 " in Christ Jesus there is neither Jew nor Greek, barba 
 rian, Scythian, bond nor free." 
 
 It is, however, but just to our Northern Christians to 
 say that this sin has been committed ignorantly and in un 
 belief, and that within a few years signs of a much better 
 spirit have begun to manifest themselves. In some places, 
 recently, the doors of school-houses have been thrown open 
 to the children, and many a good Miss Ophelia has opened 
 her eyes in astonishment to find that, while she has been 
 devouring the " Missionary Herald/ and going without 
 butter on her bread and sugar in her tea to send the gospel 
 to the Sandwich Islands, there is a very thriving colony 
 of heathen in her own neighborhood at home ; and, true to 
 her own good and honest heart, she has resolved, not to 
 give up her prayers and efforts for the heathen abroad, but 
 to add thereunto labors for the heathen at home. 
 
 CHAPTER YIH 
 
 MAEIE ST. CLARE 
 
 Marie St. Clare is the type of a class of women not pecul 
 iar to any latitude, nor any condition of society. She may 
 be found in England or in America. In the northern free 
 States we have many Marie St. Clares, more or less fully 
 developed. 
 
 When found in a northern latitude, she is forever in 
 trouble about her domestic relations. Her servants never 
 do anything right. Strange to tell, they are not perfect, 
 and she thinks it a very great shame. She is fully con 
 vinced that she ought to have every moral and Christian 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 281 
 
 virtue in her kitchen for a little less than the ordinary 
 wages ; and when her cook leaves her, because she finds she 
 can get better wages arid less work in a neighboring family, 
 she thinks it shockingly selfish, unprincipled conduct. She 
 is of opinion that servants ought to be perfectly disinter 
 ested ; that they ought to be willing to take up with the 
 worst rooms in the house, with very moderate wages, and 
 very indifferent food, when they can get much better else 
 where, purely for the sake of pleasing her. She likes to 
 get hold of foreign servants, who have not yet learned our 
 ways, who are used to working for low wages, and who will 
 be satisfied with almost anything ; but she is often heard to 
 lament that they soon get spoiled, and want as many privi 
 leges as anybody else, which is perfectly shocking. Marie 
 often wishes that she could be a slave-holder, or could live 
 somewhere where the lower class are kept down, and made 
 to know their place. She is always hunting for cheap 
 seamstresses, and will tell you, in an undertone, that she 
 has discovered a woman who will make linen shirts beauti 
 fully, stitch the collars and wristbands twice, all for thirty- 
 seven cents, when many seamstresses get a dollar for it ; 
 says she does it because she s poor, and has no friends ; 
 thinks you had better be careful in your conversation, and 
 not let her know what prices are, or else she will get spoiled, 
 and go to raising her price, these sewing-women are so 
 selfish. When Marie St. Clare has the misfortune to live 
 in a free State, there is no end to her troubles. Her cook 
 is always going off for better wages and more comfortable 
 quarters ; her chambermaid, strangely enough, won t agree 
 to be chambermaid and seamstress both for half wages, and 
 so she deserts. Marie s kitchen-cabinet, therefore, is always 
 in a state of revolution ; and she often declares, with affect 
 ing earnestness, that servants are the torment of her life. 
 If her husband endeavor to remonstrate, or suggest another 
 mode of treatment, he is a hard-hearted, unfeeling man ; 
 
282 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 "he doesn t love her, and she always knew he didn t; " 
 and so he is disposed of. 
 
 But when Marie comes under a system of laws which 
 gives her absolute control over her dependants, which 
 enables her to separate them, at her pleasure, from their 
 dearest family connections, or to inflict upon them the most 
 disgraceful and violent punishments, without even the re 
 straint which seeing the execution might possibly produce, 
 
 then it is that the character arrives at full maturity. 
 Human nature is no worse at the South than at the North ; 
 but law at the South distinctly provides for and protects the 
 worst abuses to which that nature is liable. 
 
 With regard to those degrading punishments to which 
 females are subjected, by being sent to professional whip- 
 pers, or by having such functionaries sent for to the house, 
 
 as John Caphart testifies that he has often been, in Bal 
 timore, what can be said of their influence both on the 
 superior and on the inferior class ? It is very painful in 
 deed to contemplate this subject. The mind instinctively 
 shrinks from it ; but still it is a very serious question 
 whether it be not our duty to encounter this pain, that our 
 sympathies may be quickened into more active exercise. 
 For this reason, we give here the testimony of a gentleman 
 whose accuracy will not be doubted, and who subjected him 
 self to the pain of being an eye-witness to a scene of this 
 kind in the calaboose in New Orleans. As this reader will 
 perceive from the account, it was a scene of such every-day 
 occurrence as not to excite any particular remark, or any 
 expression of sympathy from those of the same condition 
 and color with the sufferer. 
 
 When our missionaries first went to India, it was esteemed 
 a duty among Christian nations to make themselves ac 
 quainted with the cruelties and atrocities of idolatrous wor 
 ship, as a means of quickening our zeal to send them the 
 gospel. 
 
A KEY JO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 283 
 
 If it be said that we in the free States have no such in 
 terest in slavery, as we do not support it, and have no 
 power to prevent it, it is replied that slavery does exist 
 in the District of Columbia, which belongs to the whole 
 United States ; and that the free States are, before God, 
 guilty of the crime of continuing it there, unless they will 
 honestly do what in them lies for its extermination. 
 
 The subjoined account was written by the benevolent Dr. 
 Howe, whose labors in behalf of the blind have rendered 
 his name dear to humanity, and was sent in a letter to the 
 Hon. Charles Sumner. If any one think it too painful to 
 be perused, let him ask himself if God will hold those 
 guiltless who suffer a system to continue, the details of which 
 they cannot even read. That this describes a common scene 
 in the calaboose, we shall by and by produce other witnesses 
 to show. 
 
 " I have passed ten days in New Orleans, not unprofitably, 
 I trust, in examining the public institutions, the schools, 
 asylums, hospitals, prisons, etc. With the exception of the 
 first, there is little hope of amelioration. I know not how 
 much merit there may be in their system ; but I do know that, 
 in the administration of the penal code, there are abominations 
 which should bring down the fate of Sodom upon the city. If 
 Howard or Mrs. Fry ever discovered so ill-administered a den 
 of thieves as the New Orleans prison, they never described it. 
 In the negroes apartment I saw much which made me blush 
 that I was a white man, and which, for a moment, stirred up 
 an evil spirit in my animal nature. Entering a large paved 
 court-yard, around which ran galleries filled with slaves of all 
 ages, sexes, and colors, I heard the snap of a whip, every stroke 
 of which souuded like the sharp crack of a pistol. I turned my 
 head, and beheld a sight which absolutely chilled me to the 
 marrow of my bones, and gave me, for the first time in my life, 
 the sensation of my hair stiffening at the roots. There lay a 
 black girl flat upon her face, on a board, her two thumbs tied 
 and fastened to one end, her feet tied and drawn tightly to the 
 other end, while a strap passed over the small of her back and, 
 fastened around the board, compressed her closely to it. Below 
 
284 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 the strap she was entirely naked. By her side, and six feet off, 
 stood a huge negro, with a long whip, which he applied with 
 dreadful power and wonderful precision. Every stroke brought 
 away a strip of skin, which clung to the lash, or fell quivering 
 on the pavement, while the blood followed after it. The poor 
 creature writhed and shrieked, and, in a voice which showed 
 alike her fear of death and her dreadful agony, screamed to her 
 master, who stood at her head, < Oh, spare my life ! don t cut 
 my soul out ! But still fell the horrid lash ; still strip after 
 strip peeled off from the skin ; gash after gash was cut in her 
 living flesh, until it became a livid and bloody mass of raw and 
 quivering muscle. It was with the greatest difficulty I refrained 
 from springing upon the torturer, and arresting his lash ; but, 
 alas ! what could I do, but turn aside to hide my tears for the 
 sufferer, and my blushes for humanity ? This was in a public 
 and regularly organized prison ; the punishment was one recog 
 nized and authorized by the law. But think you the poor 
 wretch had committed a heinous offence, and had been con 
 victed thereof, and sentenced to the lash ? Not at all. She 
 was brought by her master to be whipped by the common exe 
 cutioner, without trial, judge or jury, just at his beck or nod 
 for some real or supposed offense, or to gratify his own whim 
 or malice. And he may bring her day after day, without cause 
 assigned, and inflict any number of lashes he pleases, short of 
 twenty-five, provided only he pays the fee. Or, if he choose, he 
 may have a private whipping-board on his own premises, and 
 brutalize himself there. A shocking part of this horrid pun 
 ishment was its publicity, as I have said ; it was in a court-yard 
 surrounded by galleries, which were filled with colored persons 
 of all sexes, runaway slaves, committed for some crime, or 
 slaves up for sale. You would naturally suppose they crowded 
 forward, and gazed, horror-stricken, at the brutal spectacle 
 below ; but they did not ; many of them hardly noticed it, and 
 many were entirely indifferent to it. They went on in their 
 childish pursuits, and some were laughing outright in the dis 
 tant parts of the galleries ; so low can man, created in God s 
 image, be sunk in brutality." 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 285 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ST. CLARE 
 
 The twin brothers, Alfred and Augustine St. Clare, 
 represent two classes of men which are to be found in all 
 countries. They are the radically aristocratic and democratic 
 men. The aristocrat by position is not always the aristocrat 
 by nature, and vice versa ; but the aristocrat by nature, 
 whether he be in a higher or lower position in society, is 
 he who, though he may be just, generous, and humane, to 
 those whom he considers his equals, is entirely insensible 
 to the wants and sufferings and common humanity of 
 those whom he considers the lower orders. The sufferings 
 of a countess would make him weep ; the sufferings of a 
 seamstress are quite another matter. 
 
 On the other hand, the democrat is often found in the 
 highest position of life. To this man, superiority to his 
 brother is a thing which he can never boldly and nakedly 
 assert without a secret pain. In the lowest and humblest 
 walk of life, he acknowledges the sacredness of a common 
 humanity ; and however degraded by the opinions and in 
 stitutions of society any particular class may be, there is an 
 instinctive feeling in his soul which teaches him that they 
 are men of like passions with himself. Such men have a 
 penetration which at once sees through all the false shows 
 of outward custom which make one man so dissimilar to 
 another, to those great generic capabilities, sorrows, wants, 
 and weaknesses, wherein all men and women are alike ; and 
 there is no such thing as making them realize that one 
 order of human beings have any prescriptive right over 
 another order, or that the tears and sufferings of one are 
 not just as good as those of another order. 
 
 That such men are to be found at the South in the 
 
286 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 relation of slave-masters, that when so found they cannot 
 and will not be deluded by any of the shams and sophistry 
 wherewith slavery has been defended, that they look upon 
 it as a relic of a barbarous age, and utterly scorn and con 
 temn all its apologists, we can abundantly show. Many 
 of the most illustrious Southern men of the Revolution 
 were of this class, and many men of distinguished position 
 of later day have entertained the same sentiments. 
 
 Witness the following letter of Patrick Henry, the senti 
 ments of which are so much an echo of those of St. Clare 
 that the reader might suppose one to be a copy of the other : 
 
 LETTER OF PATRICK HENRY. 
 
 HANOVER, January 18th, 1773. 
 
 DEAR SIR, I take this opportunity to acknowledge the 
 receipt of Anthony Benezet s book against the slave-trade ; I 
 thank you for it. Is it not a little surprising that the professors 
 of Christianity, whose chief excellence consists in softening the 
 human heart, in cherishing and improving its finer feelings, 
 should encourage a practice so totally repugnant to the first 
 impressions of right and wrong ? What adds to the wonder is, 
 that this abominable practice has been introduced in the most 
 enlightened ages. Times that seem to have pretensions to boast 
 of high improvements in the arts and sciences, and refined 
 morality, have brought into general use, and guarded by many 
 laws, a species of violence and tyranny which our more 
 rude and barbarous, but more honest, ancestors detested. Is it 
 not amazing that at a time when the rights of humanity are 
 defined and understood with precision, in a country above all 
 others fond of liberty, that in such an age and in such a 
 country we find men professing a religion the most mild, 
 humane, gentle, and generous, adopting such a principle, as 
 repugnant to humanity as it is inconsistent with the Bible, and 
 destructive to liberty ? Every thinking, honest man rejects it 
 in speculation. How free in practice from conscientious 
 motives ! 
 
 Would any one believe that I am master of slaves of my own 
 purchase ? I am drawn along by the general inconvenience of 
 living here without them. I will not, I cannot, justify it. How- 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 287 
 
 ever culpable my conduct, I will so far pay my devoir to virtue 
 as to own the excellence and rectitude of her precepts, and 
 lament my want of conformity to them. 
 
 I believe a time will come when an opportunity will be 
 offered to abolish this lamentable evil. Everything we can do 
 is to improve it, if it happens in our day ; if not, let us transmit 
 to our descendants, together with our slaves, a pity for their 
 unhappy lot, and an abhorrence for slavery. If we cannot 
 reduce this wished-for reformation to practice, let us treat the 
 unhappy victims with lenity. It is the furthest advance we 
 can make towards justice. It is a debt we owe to the purity of 
 our religion, to show that it is at variance with that law which 
 warrants slavery. 
 
 I know not when to stop. I could say many things on the 
 subject, a serious view of which gives a gloomy prospect to future 
 times ! 
 
 The celebrated John Randolph, of Roanoke, said in Con 
 gress, on one occasion : 
 
 " Sir, I envy neither the heart nor the head of that man from 
 the North who rises here to defend slavery on principle." 
 
 The following lines from the will of this eccentric man 
 show that this clear sense of justice, which is a gift of supe 
 rior natures, at last produced the same appropriate fruits in 
 practice : 
 
 " / give to my slaves their freedom, to which my conscience tells 
 me they are justly entitled. It has a long time been a matter of 
 the deepest regret to me, that the circumstances under which 
 I inherited them, and the obstacles thrown in the way by the 
 laws of the land, have prevented my emancipating them in 
 my lifetime, which it is my full intention to do in case I can 
 accomplish it." 
 
 The character of St. Clare was drawn by the writer with 
 enthusiasm and with hope. Will this hope never be 
 realized ? Will those men at the South, to whom God 
 has given the power to perceive and the heart to feel the 
 unutterable wrong and injustice of slavery, always remain 
 
288 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 silent and inactive ? What nobler ambition to a Southern 
 man than to deliver his country from this disgrace ? From 
 the South must the deliverer arise. How long shall he 
 delay ? There is a crown brighter than any earthly ambi 
 tion has ever worn, there is a laurel which will not fade : 
 it is prepared and waiting for that hero who shall rise up 
 for liberty at the South, and free that noble and beautiful 
 country from the burden and disgrace of slavery. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 LEGBEE 
 
 
 
 As St. Clare and the Shelbys are the representatives of 
 one class of masters, so Legree is the representative of an 
 other ; and, as all good masters are not as enlightened, as 
 generous, and as considerate as St. Clare and Mr. Shelby, 
 or as careful and successful in religious training as Mrs. 
 Shelby, so all bad masters do not unite the personal ugli 
 ness, the coarseness and profaneness, of Legree. 
 
 Legree is introduced not for the sake of vilifying mas 
 ters as a class, but for the sake of bringing to the minds of 
 honorable Southern men, who are masters, a very important 
 feature in the system of slavery, upon which, perhaps, they 
 have never reflected. It is this : that no Southern law re 
 quires any test of CHARACTER from the man to whom the 
 absolute power of master is granted. 
 
 Are there such men as Legree ? Let any one go into the 
 low districts and dens of New York, let them go into some 
 of the lanes and alleys of London, and will they not there 
 see many Legrees ? Nay, take the purest district of New 
 England, and let people cast about in their memory and see 
 if there have not been men there, hard, coarse, unfeeling, 
 brutal, who, if they had possessed the absolute power of 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 289 
 
 Legree, would have used it in the same way ; and that 
 there should be Legrees in the Southern States is only say 
 ing that human nature is the same there that it is every 
 where. The only difference is this, that in free States 
 Legree is chained and restrained by law ; in the slave 
 States, the law makes him an absolute, irresponsible despot. 
 
 With regard to that atrocious system of working up the 
 human being in a given time, on which Legree is repre 
 sented as conducting his plantation, there is unfortunately 
 too much reason to know that it has been practiced and is 
 still practiced. 
 
 A friend of the writer the Eev. Mr. Barrows, now 
 officiating as teacher of Hebrew in Andover Theological 
 Seminary stated the following, in conversation with her : 
 that, while at New Orleans, some time since, he was in 
 vited by a planter to visit his estate, as he considered it to 
 be a model one. He found good dwellings for the slaves, 
 abundant provision distributed to them, all cruel punish 
 ments superseded by rational and reasonable ones, and half 
 a day every week allowed to the negroes to cultivate their 
 own grounds. Provision was also made for their moral and 
 religious instruction. Mr. Barrows then asked the planter, 
 " Do you consider your estate a fair specimen ? " The 
 gentleman replied, " There are two systems pursued among 
 us. One is, to make all we can out of a negro in a few 
 years, and then supply his place with another ; and the 
 other is, to treat him as I do. My neighbor on the next 
 plantation pursues the opposite system. His boys are hard 
 worked and scantily fed ; and I have had them come to me, 
 and get down on their knees to beg me to buy them." 
 
 Mr. Barrows says he subsequently passed by this planta 
 tion, and that the woe-struck, dejected aspect of its labor 
 ers fully confirmed the account. He also says that the 
 
290 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 gentleman who managed so benevolently told him, "I do 
 not make much money out of my slaves." 
 
 The peculiar mode of labor on the sugar plantation is 
 such that the master, at a certain season of the year, must 
 overwork his slaves, unless he is willing to incur great 
 pecuniary loss. In that very gracefully written apology for 
 slavery, Professor Ingraham s " Travels in the Southwest," 
 the following description of sugar-making is given. We 
 quote from him in preference to any one else, because he 
 speaks as an apologist, and describes the thing with the 
 grace of a Mr. Skimpole. 
 
 " When the grinding has once commenced, there is no cessa 
 tion of labor till it is completed. From beginning to end a busy 
 and cheerful scene continues. The negroes, 
 
 Whose sore task 
 Does not divide the Sunday from the week, 
 
 work from eighteen to twenty hours, 
 
 And make the night joint laborer with the day ; 
 
 though, to lighten the burden as much as possible, the gang is 
 divided into two watches, one taking the first and the other the 
 last part of the night; and, notwithstanding this continued 
 labor, the negroes improve in appearance, and appear fat and 
 flourishing. They drink freely of cane-juice, and the sickly 
 among them revive, and become robust and healthy. 
 
 " After the grinding is finished, the negroes have several holi 
 days, when they are quite at liberty to dance and frolic as much 
 as they please; and the cane-song which is improvised by 
 one of the gang, the rest all joining in a prolonged and unin 
 telligible chorus now breaks, night and day, upon the ear, 
 in notes most musical, most melancholy. " 
 
 The above is inserted as a specimen of the facility with 
 which the most horrible facts may be told in the genteelest 
 phrase. In a work entitled " Travels in Louisiana in 1802 " 
 is the following extract (see Weld s " Slavery as It Is," 
 p. 134), from which it appears that this cheerful process of 
 laboring night and day lasts three months ! 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 291 
 
 Now, let any one learn the private history of seven hun 
 dred blacks, men and women, compelled to work day 
 and night, under the lash of a driver, for a period of three 
 months. 
 
 Possibly, if the gentleman who wrote this account were 
 employed, with his wife and family, in this " cheerful 
 scene " of labor, if he saw the woman that he loved, the 
 daughter who was dear to him as his own soul, forced on in 
 the general gang, in this toil which 
 
 " Does not divide the Sunday from the week, 
 And makes the night joint laborer with the day," 
 
 possibly, if he saw all this, he might have another opin 
 ion of its cheerfulness ; and it might be an eminently salu 
 tary thing if every apologist for slavery were to enjoy some 
 such privilege for a season, particularly as Mr. Ingraham is 
 careful to tell us that its effect upon the general health is 
 so excellent that the negroes improve in appearance, and 
 appear fat and flourishing, and that the sickly among them 
 revive, and become robust and healthy. One would think 
 it a surprising fact, if working slaves night and day, and 
 giving them cane-juice to drink, really produces such salu 
 tary results, that the practice should not be continued 
 the whole year round ; though, perhaps, in this case, the 
 negroes would become so fat as to be unable to labor. Pos 
 sibly, it is because this healthful process is not longer 
 continued that the agricultural societies of Louisiana are 
 obliged to set down an annual loss of slaves on sugar plan 
 tations to the amount of two and a half per cent. This 
 ought to be looked into by philanthropists. Perhaps work 
 ing them all night for six months, instead of three, might 
 remedy the evil. 
 
 But this periodical pressure is not confined to the making 
 of sugar. There is also a press in the cotton season, as any 
 one can observe by reading the Southern newspapers. At 
 
292 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 a certain season of the year, the whole interest of the com 
 munity is engaged in gathering in the cotton crop. 
 
 As a specimen, of recent date, of this kind of affair, we 
 subjoin the following from the "Fairfield Herald," Wins- 
 boro , S. C., November 4, 1852. 
 
 COTTON-PICKING. 
 
 We find in many of our Southern and Western exchanges 
 notices of the amount of cotton picked by hands, and the quan 
 tity by each hand ; and, as we have received a similar account, 
 which we have not seen excelled, so far as regards the quantity 
 picked by one hand, we with pleasure furnish the statement, 
 w r ith the remark that it is from a citizen of this district, over 
 seeing for Maj. II. W. Parr. 
 
 " BROAD RIVER, Oct. 12, 1852. 
 
 " MESSRS. EDITORS, By way of contributing something to 
 your variety (provided it meets your approbation), I send you 
 the return of a day s picking of cotton, not by picked hands, 
 but the fag-end of a set of hands on one plantation, the able- 
 bodied hands having been drawn out for other purposes. Now 
 for the result of a day s picking, from sun-up until sun-down, 
 by twenty-two hands, women, boys, and two men, four 
 thousand eight hundred and eighty pounds of clean picked cot 
 ton, from the stalk. 
 
 " The highest, three hundred and fifty pounds, by several ; 
 the lowest, one hundred and fifteen pounds. One of the num 
 ber has picked in the last seven and a half days (Sunday ex- 
 cepted), eleven hours each day, nineteen hundred pounds clean 
 cotton. When any of my agricultural friends beat this, in the 
 same time, and during sunshine, I will try again. 
 
 JAMES STEWARD." 
 
 It seems that this agriculturist professes to have accom 
 plished all these extraordinary results with what he very 
 elegantly terms the " fag-end " of a set of hands ; and, the 
 more to exalt his glory in the matter, he distinctly informs 
 the public that there were no " able-bodied " hands em 
 ployed ; that this whole triumphant result was worked out 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 293 
 
 of women and children, and two disabled men ; in other 
 words, he boasts that out of women and children, and the 
 feeble and sickly, he has extracted four thousand eight hun 
 dred and eighty pounds of clean picked cotton in a day ; 
 and that one of these same hands has been made to pick 
 nineteen hundred pounds of clean cotton in a week ! and 
 adds, complacently, that, when any of his agricultural 
 friends beat this, in the same time, and during sunshine, 
 he " will try again." 
 
 Will any of our readers now consider the forcing up of 
 the hands on Legree s plantation an exaggeration ? Yet 
 see how complacently this account is quoted by the editor, 
 as a most praiseworthy and laudable thing ! 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 SELECT INCIDENTS OF LAWFUL TRADE 
 
 In this chapter of " Uncle Tom s Cabin " were recorded 
 some of the most highly wrought and touching incidents of 
 the slave-trade. It will be well to authenticate a few of 
 them. 
 
 One of the first sketches presented to view is an account 
 of the separation of a very old, decrepit negro woman from 
 her young son, by a sheriff s sale. The writer is sorry to 
 say that not the slightest credit for invention is due to her 
 in this incident. She found it, almost exactly as it stands, 
 in the published journal of a young Southerner, related as 
 a scene to which he was eye-witness. The only circum 
 stance which she has omitted in the narrative was one of 
 additional inhumanity and painfulness which he had de 
 lineated. He represents the boy as being bought by a 
 planter, who fettered his hands, and tied a rope round his 
 neck which he attached to the neck of his horse, thus com- 
 
294 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 pelling the child to trot by his side. This incident alone 
 was suppressed by the author. 
 
 Another scene of fraud and cruelty, in the same chapter, 
 is described as perpetrated by a Kentucky slave-master, who 
 sells a woman to a trader, and induces her to go with him 
 by the deceitful assertion that she is to be taken down the 
 river a short distance, to work at the same hotel with her 
 husband. This was an instance which occurred under 
 the writer s own observation, some years since, when she 
 was going down the Ohio River. The woman was very re 
 spectable both in appearance and dress. The writer recalls 
 her image now with distinctness, attired with great neat 
 ness in a white wrapper, her clothing and hair all arranged 
 with evident care, and having with her a prettily dressed 
 boy about seven years of age. She had also a hair trunk 
 of clothing, which showed that she had been carefully and 
 respectably brought up. It will be seen, in perusing the 
 account, that the incident is somewhat altered to suit the 
 purpose of the story, the woman being there represented 
 as carrying with her a young infant. 
 
 The custom of unceremoniously separating the infant 
 from its mother, when the latter is about to be taken from 
 a Northern to a Southern market, is a matter of every-day 
 notoriety in the trade. It is not done occasionally and 
 sometimes, but always, whenever there is occasion for it ; 
 and the mother s agonies are no more regarded than those 
 of a cow when her calf is separated from her. 
 
 The reason of this is, that the care and raising of chil 
 dren is no part of the intention or provision of a Southern 
 plantation. They are a trouble ; they detract from the 
 value of the mother as a field-hand, and it is more expen 
 sive to raise them than to buy them ready raised ; they 
 are therefore left behind in the making up of a coffle. Not 
 longer ago than last summer, the writer was conversing with 
 Thomas Strother, a slave minister of the gospel in St. Louis, 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 295 
 
 for whose emancipation she was making some effort. He 
 incidentally mentioned to her a scene which he had wit 
 nessed but a short time before, in which a young woman of 
 his acquaintance came to him almost in a state of distrac 
 tion, telling him that she had been sold to go South with 
 a trader, and leave behind her a nursing infant. 
 
 The incident in this same chapter which describes the 
 scene where the wife of the unfortunate article, catalogued 
 as " John aged 30," rushed on board the boat and threw 
 her arms around him, with moans and lamentations, was a 
 real incident. The gentleman who related it was so stirred 
 in his spirit at the sight, that he addressed the trader in 
 the exact words which the writer represents the young min 
 ister as having used in her narrative. 
 
 " My friend, how can you, how dare you, carry on a trade like 
 this ? Look at those poor creatures ! Here I am, rejoicing in 
 my heart that I am going home to my wife and child ; and the 
 same bell which is the signal to carry me onward towards them 
 will part this poor man and his wife forever. Depend upon it, 
 God will bring you into judgment for this." 
 
 If that gentleman has read the work, as perhaps he has 
 before now, he has probably recognized his own words. 
 One affecting incident in the narrative, as it really occurred, 
 ought to be mentioned. The wife was passionately be 
 moaning her husband s fate, as about to be forever sepa 
 rated from all that he held dear, to be sold to the hard 
 usage of a Southern plantation. The husband, in reply, 
 used that very simple but sublime expression which the 
 writer has placed in the mouth of Uncle Tom, in similar 
 circumstances : " There II be the same God there that 
 there is here." 
 
 One other incident mentioned in " Uncle Tom s Cabin " 
 may, perhaps, be as well verified in this place as in any 
 other. 
 
296 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 The case of old Prue was related by a brother and sis 
 ter of the writer, as follows : She was the woman who sup 
 plied rusks and other articles of the kind at the house where 
 they boarded. Her manners, appearance, and character 
 were just as described. One day another servant came in 
 her place, bringing the rusks. The sister of the writer in 
 quired what had become of Prue. She seemed reluctant 
 to answer for some time, but at last said that they had 
 taken her into the cellar and beaten her, and that the flies 
 had got at her, and she was dead ! 
 
 It is well known that there are no cellars, properly so 
 called, in New Orleans, the nature of the ground being such 
 as to forbid digging. The slave who used the word had 
 probably been imported from some State where cellars were 
 in use, and applied the term to the place which was used 
 for the ordinary purposes of a cellar. A cook who lived in 
 the writer s family, having lived most of her life on a 
 plantation, always applied the descriptive terms of the plan 
 tation to the very limited enclosures and retinue of a very 
 plain house and yard. 
 
 This same lady, while living in the same place, used 
 frequently to have her compassion excited by hearing the 
 wailings of a sickly baby in a house adjoining their own, as 
 also the objurgations and tyrannical abuse of a ferocious 
 virago upon its mother. She once got an opportunity to 
 speak to its mother, who appeared heart-broken and dejected, 
 and inquired what was the matter with her child. Her 
 answer was that she had had a fever, and that her milk 
 was all dried away ; and that her mistress was set against 
 her child, and would not buy milk for it. She had tried to 
 feed it on her own coarse food, but it pined and cried con 
 tinually ; and in witness of this she brought the baby to 
 her. It was emaciated to a skeleton. The lady took the 
 little thing to a friend of hers in the house who had been 
 recently confined, and who was suffering from a redundancy 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 297 
 
 of milk, and begged her to nurse it. The miserable sight 
 of the little, famished, wasted thing affected the mother so 
 as to overcome all other considerations, and she placed it to 
 her breast, when it revived, and took food with an eagerness 
 which showed how much it had suffered. But the child 
 was so reduced that this proved only a transient alleviation. 
 It was after this almost impossible to get sight of the wo 
 man, and the violent temper of her mistress was such as to 
 make it difficult to interfere in the case. The lady secretly 
 afforded what aid she could, though, as she confessed, with 
 a sort of misgiving that it was a cruelty to try to hold back 
 the poor little sufferer from the refuge of the grave ; and it 
 was a relief to her when at last its wailings ceased, and it 
 went where the weary are at rest. This is one of those 
 cases which go to show that the interest of the owner will 
 not always insure kind treatment of the slave. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 TOPSY 
 
 Topsy stands as the representative of a large class of the 
 children who are growing up under the institution of slavery, 
 quick, active, subtle, and ingenious, apparently utterly 
 devoid of principle and conscience, keenly penetrating, by 
 an instinct which exists in the childish mind, the degradation 
 of their condition, and the utter hopelessness of rising above 
 it ; feeling the black skin on them, like the mark of Cain, 
 to be a sign of reprobation and infamy, and urged on by a 
 kind of secret desperation to make their " calling and 
 election " in sin " sure. 7 
 
 Christian people have often been perfectly astonished and 
 discouraged, as Miss Ophelia was, in the attempt to bring 
 up such children decently and Christianly, under a state of 
 
298 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 things which takes away every stimulant which God meant 
 should operate healthfully on the human mind. 
 
 We are not now speaking of the Southern States merely, 
 but of the New England States ; for, startling as it may 
 appear, slavery is not yet wholly abolished in the free 
 States of the North. The most unchristian part of it, that 
 which gives to it all the bitterness and all the sting, is yet, 
 in a great measure, unrepealed ; it is the practical denial to 
 the negro of the rights of human brotherhood. In conse 
 quence of this, Topsy is a character which may be found at 
 the North as well as at the South. 
 
 In conducting the education of negro, mulatto, and 
 quadroon children, the writer has often observed this fact : 
 that, for a certain time, and up to a certain age, they kept 
 equal pace with, and were often superior to, the white 
 children with whom they were associated ; but that there 
 came a time when they became indifferent to learning, and 
 made no further progress. This was invariably at the age 
 when they were old enough to reflect upon life, and to 
 perceive that society had no place to offer them for which 
 anything more would be requisite than the rudest and most 
 elementary knowledge. 
 
 It is often objected to the negro race that they are frivo 
 lous and vain, passionately fond of show, and are interested 
 only in trifles. And who is to blame for all this ? Take 
 away all high aims, all noble ambition, from any class, and 
 what is left for them to be interested in but trifles ? 
 
 The present attorney-general of Liberia, Mr. Lewis, is a 
 man who commands the highest respect, for talent and 
 ability in his position ; yet, while he was in America, it is 
 said that, like many other young colored men, he was dis 
 tinguished only for foppery and frivolity. What made the 
 change in Lewis after he went to Liberia ? Who does not 
 see the answer ? Does any one wish to know what is in- 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 299 
 
 scribed on the seal which keeps the great stone over the 
 sepulchre of African mind ? It is this, which was so 
 truly said by poor Topsy, " NOTHING BUT A NIGGER ! " 
 It is this, burnt into the soul by the branding-iron of 
 cruel and unchristian scorn, that is a sorer and deeper 
 wound than all the physical evils of slavery together. 
 
 An acquaintance of the writer was married to a gentle 
 man in Louisana, who was the proprietor of some eight 
 hundred slaves. He, of course, had a large train of ser 
 vants in his domestic establishment. When about to enter 
 upon her duties, she was warned that the servants were all 
 so thievish that she would be under the necessity, in com 
 mon with all other housekeepers, of keeping everything 
 under lock and key. She, however, announced her in 
 tention of training her servants in such a manner as to 
 make this unnecessary. Her ideas were ridiculed as chi 
 merical, but she resolved to carry them into practice. The 
 course she pursued was as follows : She called all the 
 family servants together ; told them that it would be a 
 great burden and restraint upon her to be obliged to keep 
 everything locked from them ; that she had heard that they 
 were not at all to be trusted, but that she could not help 
 hoping that they were much better than they had been 
 represented. She told them that she should provide abun 
 dantly for all their wants, and then that she should leave 
 her stores unlocked, and trust to their honor. 
 
 The idea that they were supposed capable of having any 
 honor struck a new chord at once in every heart. The 
 servants appeared most grateful for the trust, and there was 
 much public spirit excited, the older and graver ones exert 
 ing themselves to watch over the children, that nothing 
 might be done to destroy this new-found treasure of honor. 
 
 At last, however, the lady discovered that some depreda 
 tions had been made on her cake by some of the juvenile 
 
300 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 part of the establishment ; she therefore convened all the 
 servants, and stated the fact to them. She remarked that 
 it was not on account of the value of the cake that she felt 
 annoyed, but that they must be sensible that it would not 
 be pleasant for her to have it indiscriminately fingered and 
 handled, and that, therefore, she should set some cake out 
 upon a table, or some convenient place, and beg that all 
 those who were disposed to take it would go there and help 
 themselves, and allow the rest to remain undisturbed in the 
 closet. She states that the cake stood upon the table and 
 dried, without a morsel of it being touched, and that she 
 never afterwards had any trouble in this respect. 
 
 A little time after, a new carriage was bought, and one 
 night the leather boot of it w r as found to be missing. Be 
 fore her husband had time to take any steps on the subject, 
 the servants of the family called a convention among them 
 selves, and instituted an inquiry into the offense. The boot 
 was found and promptly restored, though they would not 
 reveal to their master and mistress the name of the offender. 
 
 One other anecdote which this lady related illustrates 
 that peculiar devotion of a slave to a good master, to which 
 allusion has been made. Her husband met with his death 
 by a sudden and melancholy accident. He had a personal 
 attendant and confidential servant who had grown up with 
 him from childhood. This servant was so overwhelmed with 
 grief as to be almost stupefied. On the day of the funeral 
 a brother of his deceased master inquired of him if he had 
 performed a certain commission for his mistress. The ser 
 vant said that he had forgotten it. Not perceiving his feel 
 ings at the moment, the gentleman replied, " I am surprised 
 that you should neglect any command of your mistress, 
 when she is in such affliction." 
 
 This remark was the last drop in the full cup. The 
 poor fellow fell to the ground entirely insensible, and the 
 family were obliged to spend nearly two hours employing 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 301 
 
 various means to restore his vitality. The physician ac 
 counted for his situation by saying that there had been such 
 a rush of all the blood in the body towards the heart, that 
 there was actual clanger of a rupture of that organ, a lit 
 eral death by a broken heart. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE QUAKERS 
 
 The writer s sketch of the character of this people has 
 been drawn from personal observation. There are several 
 settlements of these people in Ohio, and the manner of 
 living, the tone of sentiment, and the habits of life, as rep 
 resented in her book, are not at all exaggerated. 
 
 These settlements have always been refuges for the op 
 pressed and outlawed slave. The character of Rachel Hal- 
 liday was a real one, but she has passed away to her reward. 
 Simeon Halliday, calmly risking fine and imprisonment for 
 his love to God and man, has had in this country many 
 counterparts among the sect. 
 
 The writer had in mind, at the time of writing, the 
 scenes in the trial of Thomas Garrett, of Wilmington, Dela 
 ware, for the crime of hiring a hack to convey a mother and 
 four children from Newcastle jail to Wilmington, a distance 
 of five miles. 
 
 The writer has received the facts in this case in a letter 
 from Thomas Garrett himself, from which some extracts 
 
 will be made : 
 
 WILMINGTON, DELAWARE, 
 1st month 18th, 1853. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE, I have this day received a re 
 quest from Charles K. Whipple, of Boston, to furnish thee 
 with a statement, authentic and circumstantial, of the trouble 
 and losses which have been brought upon myself and others of 
 
302 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 my friends from the aid we had rendered to fugitive slaves, in 
 order, if thought of sufficient importance, to be published in 
 a work thee is now preparing for the press. 
 
 I will now endeavor to give thee a statement of what John 
 Hunn and myself suffered by aiding a family of slaves, a few 
 years since. I will give the facts as they occurred, and thee 
 may condense and publish so much as thee may think useful 
 in thy work, and no more : 
 
 In the 12th month, year 1846, a family, consisting of Sam 
 uel Hawkins, a freeman, his wife Emeline, and six children, 
 who were afterwards proved slaves, stopped at the house of a 
 friend named John Hunn, near Middletown, in this State, in 
 the evening about sunset, to procure food and lodging for the 
 night. They were seen by some of Hunn s pro-slavery neigh 
 bors, who soon came with a constable, and had them taken be 
 fore a magistrate. Hunn had left the slaves in his kitchen 
 when he went to the village of Middletown, half a mile dis 
 tant. When the officer came with a warrant for them, he met 
 Hunn at the kitchen door, and asked for the blacks ; Hunn, 
 with truth, said he did not know where they were. Hunn s 
 wife, thinking they would be safer, had sent them upstairs 
 during his absence, where they were found. Hunn made no 
 resistance, and they were taken before the magistrate, and from 
 his office direct to Newcastle jail, where they arrived about one 
 o clock on 7th day morning. 
 
 The sheriff and his daughter, being kind, humane people, 
 inquired of Hawkins and wife the facts of their case ; and his 
 daughter wrote to a lady here, to request me to go to Newcastle 
 and inquire into the case, as her father, and self really believed 
 they were most of them, if not all, entitled to their freedom. 
 Next morning I went to Newcastle : had the family of colored 
 people brought into the parlor, and the sheriff and myself came to 
 the conclusion that the parents and four youngest children were 
 by law entitled to their freedom. I prevailed on the sheriff to 
 show me the commitment of the magistrate, which I found was 
 defective, and not in due form according to law. I procured a 
 copy and handed it to a lawyer. He pronounced the commit 
 ment irregular, and agreed to go next morning to Newcastle, 
 and have the whole family taken before Judge Booth, Chief 
 Justice of the State, by habeas corpus, when the following ad 
 mission was made by Samuel Hawkins and wife : They admitted 
 that the two eldest boys were held by one Charles Glaudin, of 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 303 
 
 Queen Anne County, Maryland, as slaves ; that after the birth 
 of these two children, Elizabeth Turner, also of Queen Anne, 
 the mistress of their mother, had set her free, and permitted 
 her to go and live with her husband, near twenty miles from 
 her residence, after which the four youngest children were born ; 
 that her mistress during all that time, eleven or twelve years, 
 had never contributed one dollar to their support, or come to 
 see them. After examining the commitment in their case, and 
 consulting with my attorney, the judge set the whole family at 
 liberty. The day was wet and cold ; one of the children, three 
 years old, was a cripple from white swelling, and could not 
 walk a step ; another, eleven months old, at the breast ; and the 
 parents being desirous of getting to Wilmington, five miles dis 
 tant, I asked the judge if there would be any risk or impro 
 priety in my hiring a conveyance for the mother and four 
 young children to Wilmington. His reply, in the presence of 
 the sheriff and my attorney, was there would not be any. I 
 then requested the sheriff to procure a hack to take them over 
 to Wilmington. 
 
 The whole family escaped. John Hunn and Thomas 
 Garrett were brought up to trial for having practically ful 
 filled those words of Christ which read, " I was a stranger 
 and ye took me in, I was sick and in prison and ye came 
 unto me," For John Hunn s part of this crime, he was 
 fined two thousand five hundred dollars, and Thomas Gar 
 rett was fined five thousand four hundred. Three thousand 
 five hundred of this was the fine for hiring a hack for 
 them, and one thousand nine hundred was assessed on him 
 as the value of the slaves ! Our European friends will infer 
 from this that it costs something to obey Christ in America, 
 as well as in Europe. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF ST. CLARE 
 
 [Occupied with favorable notices of " Uncle Tom s 
 Cabin " from Southern men and journals.] 
 
304 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 PAET II 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE New York " Courier and Enquirer " of November 
 5th contained an article which has been quite valuable to 
 the author, as summing up, in a clear, concise, and intel 
 ligible form, the principal objections which may be urged 
 to " Uncle Tom s Cabin." It is here quoted in full, as the 
 foundation of the remarks in the following pages. 
 
 The author of " Uncle Tom s Cabin," that writer states, 
 has committed false witness against thousands and millions 
 of her fellow-men. 
 
 " She has done it [he says] by attaching to them as slavehold 
 ers, in the eyes of the world, the guilt of the abuses of an 
 institution of which they are absolutely guiltless. Her story 
 is so devised as to present slavery in three dark aspects : first, 
 the cruel treatment of the slaves ; second, the separation of fam 
 ilies ; and, third, their want of religious instruction. 
 
 " To show the first, she causes a reward to be offered for the 
 recovery of a runaway slave, dead or alive, when no reward 
 with such an alternative was ever heard of, or dreamed of, 
 south of Mason and Dixon s line, and it has been decided over 
 and over again in Southern courts that a slave who is merely 
 flying away cannot be killed. She puts such language as this 
 into the mouth of one of her speakers : * The master who goes 
 furthest and does the worst only uses within limits the power 
 that the law gives him ; when, in fact, the civil code of the 
 very State where it is represented the language was uttered 
 Louisiana declares that 
 
 " The slave is entirely subject to the will of his master, who 
 may correct and chastise him, though not ivith unusual rigor, nor 
 so as to maim or mutilate him, or to expose him to the danger of loss 
 of life, or to cause his death. 
 
 " And provides for a compulsory sale 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 305 
 
 " When the master shall be convicted of cruel treatment 
 of his slaves, and the judge shall deem proper to pronounce, 
 besides the penalty established for such cases, that the slave 
 be sold at public auction, in order to place him out of the reach 
 of the power which the master has abused. 
 
 " If any person whatsoever shall willfully kill his slave, or 
 the slave of another person, the said person, being convicted 
 thereof, shall be tried and condemned agreeably to the laws. 
 
 " In the General Court of Virginia, last year, in the case of 
 Souther v. The Commonwealth, it was held that the killing of a 
 slave by his master and owner, by willful and excessive whip 
 ping, is murder in the first degree, though it may not have been 
 the purpose of the master and owner to kill the slave ! And it is 
 not six months since Governor Johnston, of Virginia, pardoned 
 a slave who killed his master, who was beating him with brutal 
 severity. 
 
 " And yet, in the face of such laws and decisions as these, Mrs. 
 Stowe winds up a long series of cruelties upon her other black 
 personages, by causing her faultless hero, Tom, to be literally 
 whipped to death in Louisiana, by his master, Legree ; and 
 these acts, which the laws make criminal, and punish as such, 
 she sets forth in the most repulsive colors, to illustrate the 
 institution of slavery ! 
 
 "So, too, in reference to the separation of children from 
 their parents. A considerable part of the plot is made to hinge 
 upon the selling, in Louisiana, of the child Eliza, eight or 
 nine years old, away from her mother ; when, had its inventor 
 looked in the statute-book of Louisiana, she would have found 
 the following language : 
 
 " Every person is expressly prohibited from selling sepa 
 rately from their mothers the children who shall not have attained 
 the full age often years. 
 
 " Be it further enacted, That if any person or persons shall 
 sell the mother of any slave child or children under the age of 
 ten years, separate from said child or children, or shall, the mother 
 living, sell any slave child or children often years of age, or under, 
 separate from said mother, said person or persons shall be fined 
 not less than one thousand nor more than two thousand dol 
 lars, and be imprisoned in the public jail for a period of not 
 less than six months nor more than one year. 
 
 " The privation of religious instruction, as represented by Mrs. 
 Stowe, is utterly unfounded in fact. The largest churches in 
 
306 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 the Union consist entirely of slaves. The first African church 
 in Louisville, which numbers fifteen hundred persons, and the 
 first African church in Augusta, which numbers thirteen hun 
 dred, are specimens. On multitudes of the large plantations 
 in the different parts of the South the ordinances of the gospel 
 are as regularly maintained, by competent ministers, as in any 
 other communities, North or South. A larger proportion of 
 the slave population are in communion with some Christian 
 church, than of the white population in any part of the coun 
 try. A very considerable portion of every Southern congrega 
 tion, either in city or country, is sure to consist of blacks ; 
 whereas, of our Northern churches, not a colored person is to 
 be seen in one out of fifty. 
 
 "The peculiar falsity of this whole book consists in making 
 exceptional or impossible cases the representatives of the sys 
 tem. By the same process which she has used, it would not 
 be difficult to frame a fatal argument against the relation of 
 husband and wife, or parent and child, or of guardian and 
 ward; for thousands of wives and children and wards have 
 been maltreated, and even murdered. It is wrong, unpardon- 
 ably wrong, to impute to any relation of life those enormities 
 which spring only out of the worst depravity of human nature. 
 A ridiculously extravagant spirit of generalization pervades 
 this fiction from beginning to end. The Uncle Tom of the 
 authoress is a perfect angel, and her blacks generally are half 
 angels ; her Simon Legree is a perfect demon, and her whites 
 generally are half demons. She has quite a peculiar spite 
 against the clergy ; and, of the many she introduces at differ 
 ent times into the scenes, all, save an insignificant exception, 
 are Pharisees or hypocrites. One who could know nothing of 
 the United States and its people, except by what he might 
 gather from this book, would judge that it was some region 
 just on the confines of the infernal world. We do not say that 
 Mrs. Stowe was actuated by wrong motives in the preparation 
 of this work, but we do say that she has done a wrong which 
 no ignorance can excuse and no penance can expiate." 
 
 When writing "Uncle Tom s Cabin," though entirely 
 unaware and unexpectant of the importance which would 
 be attached to its statements and opinions, the author of 
 that work was anxious, from love of consistency, to have 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 307 
 
 some understanding of the laws of the slave system. She 
 had on hand for reference, while writing, the Code Noir of 
 Louisiana, and a sketch of the laws relating to slavery in 
 the different States, by Judge Stroud, of Philadelphia. 
 This work, professing to have been compiled with great care 
 from the latest editions of the statute-books of the several 
 States, the author supposed to be a sufficient guide for the 
 writing of a work of fiction. As the accuracy of those 
 statements which relate to the slave laws has been particu 
 larly contested, a more especial inquiry has been made in 
 this direction. Under the guidance and with the assistance 
 of legal gentlemen of high standing, the writer has pro 
 ceeded to examine the statements of Judge Stroud with 
 regard to statute law, and to follow them up with some in 
 quiry into the decisions of courts. The result has been an 
 increasing conviction on her part that the impressions first 
 derived from Judge S trend s work were correct ; and the 
 author now can only give the words of St. Clare, as the 
 best possible expression of the sentiments and opinion 
 which this course of reading has awakened in her mind. 
 
 " This cursed business, accursed of God and man, what is it ? 
 Strip it of all its ornament, run it down to the root and nucleus 
 of the whole, and what is it? Why, because my brother 
 Quashy is ignorant and weak, and I am intelligent and strong, 
 because I know how, and can do it, therefore, I may steal 
 all he has, keep it, and give him only such and so much as 
 suits my fancy ! Whatever is too hard, too dirty, too disagree 
 able, for me, I may set Quashy to doing. Because I don t like 
 work, Quashy shall work. Because the sun burns me, Quashy 
 shall stay in the sun. Quashy shall earn the money, and I 
 will spend it. Quashy shall lie down in every puddle, that I 
 may walk over dry-shod. Quashy shall do my will, and not 
 his, all the days of his mortal life, and have such chance of 
 getting to heaven, at last, as I find convenient. This I take to 
 be about what slavery is. I defy anybody on earth to read 
 our slave-code, as it stands in our law-books, and make any 
 thing else of it. Talk of the abuses of slavery! Humbug! 
 
308 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 The thing itself is the essence of all abuse. And the only reason 
 why the land don t sink under it, like Sodom and Gomorrah, 
 is because it is used in a way infinitely better than it is. 
 For pity s sake, for shame s sake, because we are men born of 
 women, and not savage beasts, many of us do not, and dare 
 not, we would scorn to use the full power which our savage 
 laws put into our hands. And he who goes the furthest, and 
 does the worst, only uses within limits the power that the law 
 gives him." 
 
 The author still holds to the opinion that slavery in it 
 self, as legally denned in law-books and expressed in the 
 records of courts, is the SUM AND ESSENCE OF ALL ABUSE ; 
 and she still clings to the hope that there are many men 
 at the South infinitely better than their laws ; and after 
 the reader has read all the extracts which she has to make, 
 for the sake of a common humanity they will hope the 
 same. The author must state, with regard to some pas 
 sages which she must quote, that the language of certain 
 enactments was so incredible that she would not take it on 
 the authority of any compilation whatever, but copied it 
 with her own hand from the latest edition of the statute- 
 book \vhere it stood and still stands. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 WHAT IS SLAVERY ? 
 
 The author will now enter into a consideration of slav 
 ery as it stands revealed in slave law. 
 
 What is it, according to the definition of law-books and 
 of legal interpreters ? "A slave," says the law of Louisi 
 ana, " is one who is in the power of a master, to whom he 
 belongs. The master may sell him, dispose of his person, 
 his industry, and his labor ; he can do nothing, possess no 
 thing, nor acquire anything, but what must belong to 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 309 
 
 his master." 1 South Carolina says, " Slaves shall be 
 deemed, sold, taken, reputed, and adjudged in law, to be 
 chattels personal in the hands of their owners and possess 
 ors, and their executors, and administrators, and assigns, 
 
 TO ALL INTENTS, CONSTRUCTIONS, AND PURPOSES WHAT 
 SOEVER." 2 The law of Georgia is similar. 
 
 Let the reader reflect on the extent of the meaning in 
 this last clause. Judge Kuffin, pronouncing the opinion 
 of the Supreme Court of North Carolina, says, a slave 
 is " one doomed in his own person, and his posterity, to 
 live without knowledge, and without the capacity to make 
 anything his own, and to toil that another may reap 
 the fruits." 3 
 
 This is what slavery is, this is what it is to be a 
 slave ! The slave-code, then, of the Southern States, is 
 designed to keep millions of human beings in the condition 
 of chattels personal ; to keep them in a condition in which 
 the master may sell them, dispose of their time, person, and 
 labor ; in which they can do nothing, possess nothing, and 
 acquire nothing, except for the benefit of the master j in 
 which they are doomed in themselves and in their posterity 
 to live without knowledge, without the power to make any 
 thing their own, to toil that another may reap. The 
 laws of the slave-code are designed to work out this prob 
 lem, consistently with the peace of the community, and the 
 safety of that superior race which is constantly to perpe 
 trate this outrage. 
 
 From this simple statement of what the laws of slavery 
 are designed to do, from a consideration that the class 
 thus to be reduced, and oppressed, and made the subjects 
 of a perpetual robbery, are men of like passions with our 
 own, men originally made in the image of God as much as 
 
 1 Civil Code, Art. 35. 
 
 2 2 Brev. Dig. 229. Prince s Digest, 446. 
 
 8 Wheeler s Law of Slavery, 246. State v. Mann. 
 
310 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 ourselves, men partakers of that same humanity of which 
 Jesus Christ is the highest ideal and expression, when 
 we consider that the material thus to be acted upon is that 
 fearfully explosive element, the soul of man ; that soul 
 elastic, upspringing, immortal, whose free will even the Om 
 nipotence of God refuses to coerce, we may form some idea 
 of the tremendous force which is necessary to keep this 
 mightiest of elements in the state of repression which is 
 contemplated in the definition of slavery. 
 
 Of course, the system necessary to consummate and per 
 petuate such a work, from age to age, must be a fearfully 
 stringent one ; and our readers will find that it is so. Men 
 who make the laws, and men who interpret them, may be 
 fully sensible of their terrible severity and inhumanity ; but, 
 if they are going to preserve the THING, they have no re 
 source but to make the laws, and to execute them faithfully 
 after they are made. They may say, with the honorable 
 Judge Ruffin, of North Carolina, when solemnly from the 
 bench announcing this great foundation principle of slavery, 
 
 that " THE POWER OF THE MASTER MUST BE ABSOLUTE, 
 TO RENDER THE SUBMISSION OF THE SLAVE PERFECT," 
 
 they may say, with him, "I most freely confess my 
 sense of the harshness of this proposition; I feel it as 
 deeply as any man can ; and, as a principle of moral right, 
 every person in his retirement must repudiate it ; " but 
 they will also be obliged to add, with him, " But, in the 
 actual condition of things, it MUST BE so. ... This disci 
 pline belongs to the state of slavery. ... It is INHERENT 
 in the relation of master and slave." 
 
 And, like Judge Ruffin, men of honor, men of humanity, 
 men of kindest and gentlest feelings, are obliged to inter 
 pret these severe laws with inflexible severity. In the 
 perpetual reaction of that awful force of human passion 
 and human will, which necessarily meets the compressive 
 power of slavery, in that seething, boiling tide, never 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 311 
 
 wholly repressed, which rolls its volcanic stream under 
 neath the whole framework of society so constituted, ready 
 to find vent at the least rent or fissure or unguarded aper 
 ture, there is a constant necessity which urges to sever 
 ity of law and inflexibility of execution. So Judge Ruffin 
 says, "We cannot allow the right of the matter to be 
 brought into discussion in the courts of justice. The slave, 
 to remain a slave, must be made sensible that there is NO 
 APPEAL FROM HIS MASTER." Accordingly, we find in the 
 more southern States, where the slave population is most 
 accumulated, and slave property most necessary and valu 
 able, and, of course, the determination to abide by the sys 
 tem the most decided, there the enactments are most se 
 vere, and the interpretation of courts the most inflexible. 1 
 And, when legal decisions of a contrary character begin to 
 be made, it would appear that it is a symptom of leaning 
 towards emancipation. So abhorrent is the slave-code to 
 every feeling of humanity that just as soon as there is any 
 hesitancy in the community about perpetuating the institu 
 tion of slavery, judges begin to listen to the voice of their 
 more honorable nature, and by favorable interpretations to 
 soften its necessary severities. 
 
 The reader is now prepared to enter with us on the proof 
 of this proposition : That the slave-code is designed only 
 for the security of the master, and not with regard to 
 the laelfare of the slave. 
 
 This is implied in the whole current of law-making and 
 law-administration, and is often asserted in distinct form, 
 with a precision and clearness of legal accuracy which, in a 
 literary point of view, are quite admirable. Thus, Judge 
 Ruffin, after stating that considerations restricting the power 
 
 1 We except the State of Louisiana. Owing to the influence of the 
 French code in that State, more really humane provisions prevail there. 
 How much these provisions avail in point of fact will be shown when we 
 come to that part of the subject. 
 
312 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 of the master had often "been drawn from a comparison of 
 slavery with the relation of parent and child, master and 
 apprentice, tutor and pupil, says distinctly : 
 
 " The court does not recognize their application. There is 
 no likeness between the cases. They are in opposition to each 
 other, and there is an impassable gulf between them. . . . 
 
 " In the one [case], the end in view is the happiness of the 
 youth, born to equal rights with that governor, on whom the 
 duty devolves of training the young to usefulness, in a station 
 which he is afterwards to assume among freemen. . . . With 
 slavery it is far otherwise. The end is the profit of the master, 
 his security, and the public safety." 1 
 
 Not only is this principle distinctly asserted- in so many 
 words, but it is more distinctly implied in multitudes of 
 the arguings and reasonings which are given as grounds of 
 legal decisions. Even such provisions as seem to be for 
 the benefit of the slave we often find carefully interpreted 
 so as to show that it is only on account of his property value 
 to his master that he is thus protected, and not from any 
 consideration of humanity towards himself. Thus it has 
 been decided that a master can bring no action for assault 
 and battery on his slave, unless the injury be such as to 
 produce a loss of service* 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 SOUTHER V. THE COMMONWEALTH THE NE PLUS 
 ULTRA OF LEGAL HUMANITY 
 
 The case of Souther v. The Commonwealth has been cited 
 by the " Courier and Enquirer " as a particularly favorable 
 specimen of judicial proceedings under the slave-code, with 
 the following remark : 
 
 1 Wheeler s Law of Slavery, page 246. 
 
 2 Wheeler s Law of Slavery, page 239. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 313 
 
 " And yet, in the face of such laws and decisions as these, 
 Mrs. Stowe winds up a long series of cruelties upon her other 
 black personages, by causing her faultless hero, Tom, to be lit 
 erally whipped to death in Louisiana, by his master, Legree ; 
 and these acts, which the laws make criminal, and punish as 
 such, she sets forth in the most repulsive colors, to illustrate 
 the institution of slavery ! " 
 
 By the above language the author was led into the sup 
 position that this case had been conducted in a manner so 
 creditable to the feelings of our common humanity as to 
 present a fairer side of criminal jurisprudence in this re 
 spect. She accordingly took the pains to procure a report 
 of the case, designing to publish it as an offset to the many 
 barbarities which research into this branch of the subject 
 obliges one to unfold. A legal gentleman has copied the 
 case from Grattan s Reports, and it is here given. If the 
 reader is astounded at it, he cannot be more so than was 
 the writer. 
 
 Souther v. The Commonwealth, 7 Grattan, 673, 1851. 
 
 The killing of a slave by his master and owner, by willful and excessive 
 whipping, is murder in the first degree : though it may not have been 
 the purpose and intention of the master and owner to kill the slave. 
 
 Simeon Souther was indicted at the October Term, 1850, of 
 the Circuit Court for the County of Hanover, for the murder 
 of his own slave. The indictment contained fifteen counts, in 
 which the various modes of punishment and torture by which 
 the homicide was charged to have been committed were stated 
 singly, and in various combinations. The fifteenth count unites 
 them all ; and, as the court certifies that the indictment was sus 
 tained by the evidence, the giving the facts stated in that count 
 will show what was the charge against the prisoner, and what 
 was the proof to sustain it. 
 
 The count charged that on the 1st day of September, 1849, 
 the prisoner tied his negro slave, Sam, with ropes about his 
 wrists, neck, body, legs, and ankles, to a tree. That whilst so 
 tied, the prisoner first whipped the slave with switches. That 
 he next beat and cobbed the slave with a shingle, and compelled 
 
314 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 two of his slaves, a man and a woman, also to cob the deceased 
 with the shingle. That whilst the deceased was so tied to the 
 tree, the prisoner did strike, knock, kick, stamp, and beat him 
 upon various parts of his head, face, and body; that he ap 
 plied fire to his body ; . . . that he then washed his body with 
 warm water, in which pods of red pepper had been put and 
 steeped ; and he compelled his two slaves aforesaid also to wash 
 him with this same preparation of warm water and red pepper. 
 That after the tying, whipping, cobbing, striking, beating, 
 knocking, kicking, stamping, wounding, bruising, lacerating, 
 burning, washing, and torturing, as aforesaid, the prisoner 
 untied the deceased from the tree in such way as to throw him 
 with violence to the ground ; and he then and there did knock, 
 kick, stamp, and beat the deceased upon his head, temples, and 
 various parts of his body. That the prisoner then had the 
 deceased carried into a shed-room of his house, and there he 
 compelled one of his slaves, in his presence, to confine the de 
 ceased s feet in stocks, by making his legs fast to a piece of 
 timber, and to tie a rope about the neck of the deceased, and 
 fasten it to a bedpost in the room, thereby strangling, choking, 
 and suffocating the deceased. And that whilst the deceased 
 was thus made fast in stocks as aforesaid, the prisoner did kick, 
 knock, stamp, and beat him upon his head, face, breast, belly, 
 sides, back, and body ; and he again compelled his two slaves to 
 apply fire to the body of the deceased, whilst he was so made 
 fast as aforesaid. And the count charged that from these 
 various modes of punishment and torture the slave Sam then 
 and there died. It appeared that the prisoner commenced the 
 punishment of the deceased in the morning, and that it was 
 continued throughout the day : and that the deceased died in 
 the presence of the prisoner, and one of his slaves, and one of 
 the witnesses, whilst the punishment was still progressing. 
 
 Field, J., delivered the opinion of the court. 
 
 The prisoner was indicted and convicted of murder in the 
 second degree, in the Circuit Court of Hanover, at its April 
 term last past, and was sentenced to the penitentiary for Jive 
 years, the period of time ascertained by the jury. The murder 
 consisted in the killing of a negro man-slave by the name of 
 Sam, the property of the prisoner, by cruel and excessive whip 
 ping and torture, inflicted by Souther, aided by two of his other 
 slaves, on the 1st day of September, 1849. The prisoner moved 
 for a new trial, upon the ground that the offense, if any, 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 315 
 
 amounted only to manslaughter. The motion for a new trial 
 was overruled, and a bill of exceptions taken to the opinion of 
 the court, setting forth the facts proved, or as many of them as 
 were deemed material for the consideration of the application 
 for a new trial. The bill of exception states : That the slave 
 Sam, in the indictment mentioned, was the slave and property 
 of the prisoner. That for the purpose of chastising the slave 
 for the offense of getting drunk, and dealing as the slave con 
 fessed and alleged with Henry and Stone, two of the witnesses 
 for the Commonwealth, he caused him to be tied and punished 
 in the presence of the said witnesses, with the exception of 
 slight whipping with peach or apple-tree switches, before the 
 said witnesses arrived at the scene after they were sent for by 
 the prisoner (who were present by request from the defendant), 
 and of several slaves of the prisoner, in the manner and by the 
 means charged in the indictment ; and the said slave died under 
 and from the infliction of the said punishment, in the presence 
 of the prisoner, one of his slaves, and of one of the witnesses 
 for the Commonwealth. But it did not appear that it was the 
 design of the prisoner to kill the said slave, unless such design 
 be properly inferable from the manner, means, and duration of 
 the punishment. And, on the contrary, it did appear that the 
 prisoner frequently declared, while the said slave was undergo 
 ing the punishment, that he believed the said slave was feign 
 ing, and pretending to be suffering and injured when he was 
 not. The judge certifies that the slave was punished in the 
 manner and by the means charged in the indictment. The indict 
 ment contains fifteen counts, and sets forth a case of the most 
 cruel and excessive whipping and torture. 
 
 It is believed that the records of criminal jurisprudence do 
 not contain a case of more atrocious and wicked cruelty than 
 was presented upon the trial of Souther ; and yet it has been 
 gravely and earnestly contended here by his counsel that his 
 offense amounts to manslaughter only. 
 
 It has been contended by the counsel of the prisoner that a 
 man cannot be indicted and prosecuted for the cruel and exces 
 sive whipping of his own slave. That it is lawful for the mas 
 ter to chastise his slave, and that if death ensues from such 
 chastisement, unless it was intended to produce death, it is like 
 the case of homicide which is committed by a man in the per 
 formance of a lawful act, which is manslaughter only. It has 
 
316 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 been decided by this court in Turner s case, 5 Rand, that the 
 owner of a slave, for the malicious, cruel, and excessive beating 
 of his own slave, cannot be indicted ; yet it by no means fol 
 lows, when such malicious, cruel, and excessive beating results 
 in death, though not intended and premeditated, that the beat 
 ing is to be regarded as lawful for the purpose of reducing the 
 crime to manslaughter, when the whipping is inflicted for the 
 sole purpose of chastisement. It is the policy of the law, in re 
 spect to the relation of master and slave, and for the sake of secur 
 ing proper subordination and obedience on the part of the slave, to 
 protect the master from prosecution in all such cases, even if the 
 whipping and punishment be malicious, cruel, and excessive. But 
 in so inflicting punishment for the sake of punishment, the 
 owner of the slave acts at his peril ; and if death ensues in con 
 sequence of such punishment, the relation of master and slave 
 affords no ground of excuse or palliation. The principles of 
 the common law, in relation to homicide, apply to his case 
 without qualification or exception ; and according to those 
 principles, the act of the prisoner, in the case under considera 
 tion, amounted to murder. . . . The crime of the prisoner is 
 not manslaughter, but murder in the first degree. 
 
 On the case now presented there are some remarks to be 
 made. 
 
 This scene of torture, it seems, occupied about twelve 
 hours. It occurred in the State of Virginia, in the County 
 of Hanover. Two white men were witnesses to nearly the 
 whole proceeding, and, so far as we can see, made no effort 
 to arouse the neighborhood, and bring in help to stop the 
 outrage. What sort of an education, what habits of thought, 
 does this presuppose in these men ? 
 
 The case was brought to trial. It requires no ordinary 
 nerve to read over the counts of this indictment. Nobody, 
 one would suppose, could willingly read them twice. One 
 would think that it would have laid a cold hand of horror 
 on every heart ; that the community would have risen, 
 by an universal sentiment, to shake out the man, as Paul 
 shook the viper from his hand. It seems, however, that 
 they were quite self-possessed ; that lawyers calmly sat, and 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 317 
 
 examined, and cross-examined, on particulars known before 
 only in the records of the Inquisition ; that it was " ably 
 and earnestly argued " by educated, intelligent, American 
 men, that this catalogue of horrors did not amount to a 
 murder ! and, in the cool language of legal precision, that 
 " the offense, IF ANY, amounted to manslaughter ; " and 
 that an American jury found that the offence was murder 
 in the second degree. Any one who reads the indictment 
 will certainly think that, if this be murder in the second 
 degree, in Virginia, one might earnestly pray to be mur 
 dered in the first degree, to begin with. Had Souther 
 walked up to the man, and shot him through the head with 
 a pistol, before white witnesses, that would have been mur 
 der in the first degree. As he preferred to spend twelve 
 hours in killing him by torture, under the name of " chas 
 tisement" that, says the verdict, is murder in the second 
 degree ; " because" says the bill of exceptions, with admir 
 able coolness, " it did not appear that it was the design 
 of the prisoner to kill the slave, UNLESS SUCH DESIGN BE 
 
 PROPERLY INFERABLE FROM THE MANNER, MEANS, AND 
 DURATION OF THE PUNISHMENT." 
 
 The bill evidently seems to have a leaning to the idea 
 that twelve hours spent in beating, stamping, scalding, 
 burning, and mutilating a human being might possibly be 
 considered as presumption of something beyond the limits 
 of lawful chastisement. So startling an opinion, however, 
 is expressed cautiously, and with a becoming diffidence, 
 and is balanced by the very striking fact, which is also 
 quoted in this remarkable paper, that the prisoner fre 
 quently declared, while the slave was undergoing the pun 
 ishment, that he believed the slave was feigning and pre 
 tending to be suffering, when he was not. This view 
 appears to have struck the court as eminently probable, 
 as going a long way to prove the propriety of Souther s 
 intentions, making it at least extremely probable that only 
 correction was intended. 
 
318 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 It seems, also, that Souther, so far from being crushed 
 by the united opinion of the community, found those to 
 back him who considered five years in the penitentiary an 
 unjust severity for his crime, and hence the bill of excep 
 tions from which we have quoted, and the appeal to the 
 Superior Court; and hence the form in which the case 
 stands in law-books, " Souther v. The Commonwealth." 
 Souther evidently considers himself an ill-used man, and it 
 is in this character that he appears before the Superior 
 Court. 
 
 As yet there has been no particular overflow of human 
 ity in the treatment of the case. The manner in which it 
 has been discussed so far reminds one of nothing so much 
 as of some discussions which the reader may have seen 
 quoted from the records of the Inquisition, with regard to 
 the propriety of roasting the feet of children who have not 
 arrived at the age of thirteen years, with a view to eli 
 citing evidence. 
 
 Let us now come to the decision of the Superior Court, 
 which the editor of the " Courier and Enquirer " thinks so 
 particularly enlightened and humane. Judge Field thinks 
 that the case is a very atrocious one, and in this respect he 
 seems to differ materially from judge, jury, and lawyers, of 
 the court below. Furthermore, he doubts whether the 
 annals of jurisprudence furnish a case of equal atrocity, 
 wherein certainly he appears to be not far wrong ; and he 
 also states unequivocally the principle that killing a slave 
 by torture under the name of correction is murder in the 
 first degree ; and here too, certainly, everybody will think 
 that he is also right 5 the only wonder being that any man 
 could ever have been called to express such an opinion, 
 judicially. But he states that awful principle of slave 
 laws, that the law cannot interfere with the master for any 
 amount of torture inflicted on his slave which does not 
 result in death. The decision, if it establishes anything, 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 319 
 
 establishes this principle quite as strongly as it does the 
 other. Let us hear the words of the decision : 
 
 " It has been decided by this court, in Turner s case, that the 
 owner of a slave, for the malicious, cruel, and excessive beating 
 of his own slave, cannot be indicted. ... It is the policy of 
 the law, in respect to the relation of master and slave, and for 
 the sake of securing proper subordination and obedience on 
 the part of the slave, to protect the master from prosecution 
 in all such cases, even if the whipping and punishment be 
 malicious, cruel, and excessive." 
 
 What follows as a corollary from, this remarkable decla 
 ration is this, that if the victim of this twelve hours tor 
 ture had only possessed a little stronger constitution, and 
 had not actually died under it, there is no law in Virginia 
 by which Souther could even have been indicted for misde 
 meanor. 
 
 If this is not filling out the measure of the language of 
 St. Clare, that " he who goes the furthest and does the 
 worst only uses within limits the power which the law 
 gives him," how could this language be verified ? Which 
 is " the worst" death outright, or torture indefinitely pro 
 longed ? This decision, in so many words, gives every 
 master the power of indefinite torture, and takes from him 
 only the power of terminating the agony by merciful death. 
 And this is the judicial decision which the " Courier and 
 Enquirer" cites as a perfectly convincing specimen of legal 
 humanity. It must be hoped that the editor never read 
 the decision, else he never would have cited it. Of all 
 who knock at the charnel-house of legal precedents, with 
 the hope of disinterring any evidence of humanity in the 
 slave system, it may be said, in the awful words of the 
 Hebrew poet : 
 
 " He knoweth not that the dead are there, 
 And that her guests are in the depths of hell." 
 
 The upshot of this case was, that Souther, instead of 
 
320 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 getting off from his five years imprisonment, got simply a 
 judicial opinion from the Superior Court that he ought to 
 be hung ; but he could not be tried over again, and, as we 
 may infer from all the facts in the case that he was a man 
 of tolerably resolute nerves and not very exquisite sensibil 
 ity, it is not likely that the opinion gave him any very 
 serious uneasiness. He has probably made up his mind to 
 get over his five years with what grace he may. When he 
 Comes out, there is no law in Virginia to prevent his buy 
 ing as many more negroes as he chooses, and going over 
 the same scene with any one of them at a future time, if 
 only he profit by the information which has been so ex 
 plicitly conveyed to him in this decision, that he must take 
 care and stop his tortures short of the point of death, a 
 matter about which, as the history of the Inquisition 
 shows, men, by careful practice, can be able to judge with 
 considerable precision. Probably, also, the next time, he 
 will not be so foolish as to send out and request the attend 
 ance of two white witnesses, even though they may be so 
 complacently interested in the proceedings as to spend the 
 whole day in witnessing them without effort at prevention. 
 Slavery, as defined in American law, is no more capable 
 of being regulated in its administration by principles of 
 humanity, than the torture system of the Inquisition. 
 Every act of humanity of every individual owner is an 
 illogical result from the legal definition ; and the reason 
 why the slave-code of America is more atrocious than any 
 ever before exhibited under the sun is that the Anglo- 
 Saxon race are a more -coldly and strictly logical race, and 
 have an unflinching courage to meet the consequences of 
 every premise which they lay down, and to work out an 
 accursed principle, with mathematical accuracy, to its most 
 accursed results. The decisions in American law-books 
 show nothing so much as this severe, unflinching accuracy 
 of logic. It is often and evidently, not because judges are 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 321 
 
 inhuman or partial, but because they are logical and truth 
 ful, that they announce from the bench, in the calmest 
 manner, decisions which one would think might make the 
 earth shudder, and the sun turn pale. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 PROTECTIVE STATUTES 
 
 But the question now occurs, Are there not protective 
 statutes, the avowed object of which is the protection of 
 the life and limb of the slave ? We answer, there are ; and 
 these protective statutes are some of the most remarkable 
 pieces of legislation extant. 
 
 That they were dictated by a spirit of humanity, charity, 
 which hopeth all things, would lead us to hope ; but no 
 newspaper stories of bloody murders and shocking outrages 
 convey to the mind so dreadful a picture of the numbness 
 of public sentiment caused by slavery as these so-called pro 
 tective statutes. The author copies the following from the 
 statutes of North Carolina. Section 3d of the act passed in 
 1798 runs thus : 
 
 " Whereas by another Act of the Assembly, passed in 1774, the 
 killing of a slave, however wanton, cruel, and deliberate, is only 
 punishable in the first instance by imprisonment and paying the 
 value thereof to the owner, which distinction of criminality be 
 tween the murder of a white person and one who is equally a 
 human creature, but merely of a different complexion, is DIS 
 GRACEFUL TO HUMANITY, AND DEGRADING IN THE HIGHEST 
 DEGREE TO THE LAWS AND PRINCIPLES OF A FREE, CHRISTIAN, 
 
 AND ENLIGHTENED COUNTRY, Be it enacted, etc., That, if any 
 person shall hereafter be guilty of willfully and maliciously 
 killing a slave, such offender shall, upon the first conviction 
 thereof, be adjudged guilty of murder, and shall suffer the same 
 punishment as if he had killed a free man : Provided always, this 
 act shall not extend to the person killing a slave OUTLAWED BY 
 
322 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 VIRTUE OF ANY ACT OF ASSEMBLY OF THIS STATE, OT to any 
 
 slave in the act of resistance to his lawful owner or master, or to 
 any slave dying under moderate correction." 
 
 A law with a like proviso, except the outlawry clause, 
 exists in Tennessee. See Caruthers and Nicholson s Com 
 pilation, 1836, p. 676. 
 
 The language of the Constitution of Georgia, art. iv., sec. 
 12, is as follows : 
 
 " Any person who shall maliciously dismember or deprive a 
 slave of life shall suffer such punishment as would be inflicted in 
 case the like offense had been committed on a free white person, 
 and on the like proof, except in case of insurrection by such 
 slave, and unless such death should happen by accident in giving 
 such slave moderate correction." CoWs Dig. 1851, p. 1125. 
 
 Let now any Englishman or New Englander imagine 
 that such laws with regard to apprentices had ever been 
 proposed in Parliament or State Legislature under the head 
 of protective acts ; laws which in so many words permit 
 the killing of the subject in three cases, and those compris 
 ing all the acts which would generally occur under the 
 law ; namely, if the slave resist, if he be outlawed, or if he 
 die under moderate correction. 
 
 What rule in the world will ever prove correction im 
 moderate, if the fact that the subject dies under it is not 
 held as proof ? How many such " accidents " would have 
 to happen in Old England or New England, before Parlia 
 ment or Legislature would hear from such a protective law ? 
 
 "But," some one may ask, "what is the outlaiury spoken 
 of in this act ? " The question is pertinent, and must be 
 answered. The author has copied the following from the Ee- 
 vised Statutes of North Carolina, chap, cxi., sec. 22. It may 
 be remarked in passing that the preamble to this law pre 
 sents rather a new view of slavery to those who have formed 
 their ideas from certain pictures of blissful contentment and 
 Arcadian repose, which have been much in vogue of late. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 323 
 
 " Whereas, MANY TIMES slaves run away and lie out, hid and 
 lurking in swamps, tuoods, and other obscure places, killing cattle 
 and hogs, and committing other injuries to the inhabitants of 
 this State ; in all such cases, upon intelligence of any slave or 
 slaves lying out as aforesaid, any two justices of the peace for 
 the county wherein such slave or slaves is or are supposed to 
 lurk or do mischief, shall, and they are hereby empowered and 
 required to issue proclamation against such slave or slaves (re 
 citing his or their names, and the name or names of the owner 
 or owners, if known), thereby requiring him or them, and every 
 of them, forthwith to surrender him or themselves ; and also to 
 empower and require the sheriff of the said county to take such 
 power with him as he shall think fit and necessary for going in 
 search and pursuit of, and effectually apprehending, such out 
 lying slave or slaves ; which proclamation shall be published 
 at the door of the court-house, and at such other places as said 
 justices shall direct. And if any slave or slaves against whom 
 proclamation hath been thus issued stay out, and do not imme 
 diately return home, it shall be lawful for any person or per 
 sons whatsoever to kill and destroy such slave or slaves by such 
 ways and means as he shall think Jit, without accusation or im 
 peachment of any crime for the same." 
 
 This passage of the Revised Statutes of North Carolina 
 is more terribly suggestive to the imagination than any 
 particulars into which the author of " Uncle Tom s Cabin " 
 has thought fit to enter. Let us suppose a little melodrama 
 quite possible to have occurred under this act of the legisla 
 ture. Suppose some luckless Prue or Peg, as in the case 
 we have just quoted, in State v. Mann, getting tired of the 
 discipline of whipping, breaks from the overseer, clears the 
 dogs, and gets into the swamp, and there " lies out," as the 
 act above graphically says. The act which we are consider 
 ing says that many slaves do this, and doubtless they have 
 their own best reasons for it. We all know what fasci 
 nating places to " lie out " in these Southern swamps are. 
 What with alligators and moccasin snakes, mud and water, 
 and poisonous vines, one would be apt to think the situation 
 not particularly eligible ; but still, Prue " lies out " there. 
 
324 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Perhaps in the night some husband or brother goes to see 
 her, taking a hog, or some animal of the plantation stock, 
 which he has ventured his life in killing, that she may not 
 perish with hunger. Master overseer walks up to master 
 proprietor, and reports the accident; master proprietor 
 mounts his horse, and assembles to his aid two justices of 
 the peace. 
 
 In the intervals between drinking brandy and smoking 
 cigars a proclamation is duly drawn up, summoning the 
 contumacious Prue to surrender, and requiring the sheriff of 
 said county to take such power as he shall think fit, to go 
 in search and pursuit of said slave j which proclamation, for 
 Prue s further enlightenment, is solemnly published at the 
 door of the court-house, and " at such other places as said 
 justices shall direct." Let us suppose, now, that Prue, 
 given over to hardness of heart and blindness of mind, pays 
 no attention to all these means of grace, put forth to draw 
 her to the protective shadow of the patriarchal roof. Sup 
 pose, further, as a final effort of long-suffering, and to leave 
 her utterly without excuse, the worthy magistrate rides 
 forth in full force, man, horse, dog, and gun, to the 
 very verge of the swamp, and there proclaims aloud the 
 merciful mandate. Suppose that, hearing the yelping of 
 the dogs and the proclamation of the sheriff mingled to 
 gether, and the shouts of Loker, Marks, Sambo, and Quimbo, 
 and other such posse, black and white, as a sheriff can gen 
 erally summon on such a hunt, this very ignorant and contu 
 macious Prue only runs deeper into the swamp, and continues 
 obstinately " lying out," as aforesaid ; now she is by act 
 
 1 The old statute of 1741 had some features still more edifying. That 
 provides that said " proclamation shall be published on a Sabbath day, at 
 the door of every church or chapel, or, for want of such, at the place where 
 divine service shall be performed in the said county, by the parish clerk or 
 reader, immediately after divine service." Potter s Revuai, i. 166. What 
 a peculiar appropriateness there must have been in this proclamation, par 
 ticularly after a sermon on the love of Christ, or an exposition of the 
 text " Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself" ! 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 325 
 
 of the assembly outlaived, and, in the astounding words of 
 the act, " it shall be lawful for any person or persons what 
 soever to kill and destroy her, by such ways and means as 
 he shall think fit, without accusation or impeachment of any 
 crime for the same." What awful possibilities rise to the 
 imagination under the fearfully suggestive clause " by such 
 ways and means as he shall think fit ! " Such ways and 
 means as ANY man shall think fit, of any character, of any 
 degree of fiendish barbarity ! ! Such a permission, to kill 
 even a dog, by " any ways and means which anybody should 
 think fit," never ought to stand on the law-books of a 
 Christian nation ; and yet this stands against one bearing 
 that same humanity which Jesus Christ bore, against one 
 perhaps, who, though blinded, darkened, and ignorant, He 
 will not be ashamed to own, when He shall come in the 
 glory of his Father, and all his holy angels with Him ! 
 
 There is evidence that this act of outlawry was executed 
 so recently as the year 1850, the year in which " Uncle 
 Tom s Cabin " was written. See the following from the 
 " Wilmington Journal," of December 13, 1850 : 
 
 STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA, NEW HANOVER COUNTY. 
 
 Whereas complaint upon oath hath this day been made to us, 
 two of the justices of the peace for the said State and county 
 aforesaid, by Guilford Horn, of Edgecombe County, that a 
 certain male slave belonging to him, named Harry, a carpenter 
 by trade, about forty years old, five feet five inches high, or 
 thereabouts; yellow complexion; stout built; with a scar on 
 his left leg (from the cut of an axe) ; has very thick lips ; eyes 
 deep sunk in his head ; forehead very square ; tolerably loud 
 voice ; has lost one or two of his upper teeth ; and has a very 
 dark spot on his jaw, supposed to be a mark, hath absented 
 himself from his master s service, and is supposed to be lurking 
 about in this county, committing acts of felony or other mis 
 deeds ; these are, therefore, in the name of the State aforesaid, 
 to command the said slave forthwith to surrender himself and 
 return home to his said master ; and we do hereby, by virtue of 
 
326 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 the act of assembly in such cases made and provided, intimate 
 and declare that if the said slave Harry doth not surrender 
 himself and return home immediately after the publication 
 of these presents, that any person or persons may KILL and 
 DESTROY the said slave by such means as he or they may think 
 fit, without accusation or impeachment of any crime or offense 
 for so doing, and without incurring any penalty or forfeiture 
 thereby. 
 
 Given under our hands and seals, this 29th day of June, 1850. 
 JAMES T. MILLER, J. P. [Seal.] 
 W. C. BETTENCOURT, J. P. [Seal.] 
 
 ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS REWARD will 
 be paid for the delivery of the said Harry to me at Tosnott 
 Depot, Edgecombe County, or for his confinement in any jail 
 in the State, so that I can get him ; or One Hundred and Fifty 
 Dollars will be given for his head. 
 
 He was lately heard from in Newbern, where he called him 
 self Henry Barnes (or Burns), and will be likely to continue 
 the same name, or assume that of Copage or Farmer. He has 
 a free mulatto woman for a wife, by the name of Sally Bozeman, 
 who has lately removed to Wilmington, and lives in that part 
 of the town called Texas, where he will likely be lurking. 
 
 Masters of vessels are particularly cautioned against harbor 
 ing or concealing the said negro on board their vessels, as the 
 full penalty of the law will be rigorously enforced. 
 
 GUILFORD HORN. 
 
 June 29th, 1850. 
 
 There is an inkling of history and romance about the 
 description of this same Harry, who is thus publicly set up 
 to be killed in any way that any of the negro-hunters of the 
 swamps may think the most piquant and enlivening. It 
 seems he is a carpenter, a powerfully made man, whose 
 thews and sinews might be a profitable acquisition to him 
 self. It appears also that he has a wife, and the advertiser 
 intimates that possibly he may be caught prowling about 
 somewhere in her vicinity. This indicates sagacity in the 
 writer, certainly. Married men generally have a way of 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 327 
 
 liking the society of their wives ; and it strikes us, from 
 what we know of the nature of carpenters here in New 
 England, that Harry was not peculiar in this respect. Let 
 us further notice the portrait of Harry : " Eyes deep sunk 
 in his head; forehead very square." This picture 
 reminds us of what a persecuting old ecclesiastic once said, 
 in the days of the Port Royalists, of a certain truculent 
 abbess, who stood obstinately to a certain course, in the face 
 of the whole power, temporal and spiritual, of the Romish 
 church, in spite of fining, imprisoning, starving, whipping, 
 beating, and other enlightening argumentative processes, not 
 wholly peculiar, it seems, to that age. "You will never 
 subdue that woman," said the ecclesiastic, who was a phre 
 nologist before his age ; " she s got a square head, and I 
 have always noticed that people with square heads never 
 can be turned out of their course. 7 We think it very 
 probable that Harry, with his " square head," is just one of 
 this sort. He is probably one of those articles which would 
 be extremely valuable, if the owner could only get the use 
 of him. His head is well enough, but he will use it for 
 himself. It is of no use to any one but the wearer ; and 
 the master seems to symbolize this state of things, by offer 
 ing twenty-five dollars more for the head without the body, 
 than he is willing to give for head, man, and all. Poor 
 Harry ! We wonder whether they have caught him yet ; 
 or whether the impenetrable thickets, the poisonous miasma, 
 the deadly snakes, and the unwieldy alligators of the swamps, 
 more humane than the slave-hunter, have interposed their 
 uncouth and loathsome forms to guard the only fastness in 
 Carolina where a slave can live in freedom. 
 
328 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 PROTECTIVE ACTS OF SOUTH CAROLINA AND LOUISIANA. 
 THE IRON COLLAR OF LOUISIANA AND NORTH 
 CAROLINA. 
 
 Thus far by way of considering the protective acts of 
 North Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee. Certain miscel 
 laneous protective acts of various other States will now 
 be cited, merely as specimens of the spirit of legislation. 
 
 In South Carolina, the act of 1740 punished the willful, 
 deliberate murder of a slave by disfranchisement, and by a 
 fine of seven hundred pounds current money, or, in default 
 of payment, imprisonment for seven years. 1 But the willful 
 murder of a slave, in the sense contemplated in this law, is 
 a crime which would not often occur. The kind of murder 
 which was most frequent among masters or overseers was 
 guarded against by another section of the same act, how 
 adequately the reader will judge for himself, from the 
 following quotation : 
 
 " If any person shall, on a sudden heat or passion, or by undue 
 correction, kill his own slave, or the slave of any other person, 
 he shall forfeit the sum of three hundred and fifty pounds current 
 money." 2 
 
 In 1821 the act punishing the willful murder of the slave 
 only with fine or imprisonment was mainly repealed, and it 
 was enacted that such crime should be punished by death ; 
 but the latter section, which relates to killing the slave in 
 sudden heat or passion, or by undue correction, has been 
 altered only by diminishing the pecuniary penalty to a fine 
 of five hundred dollars, authorizing also imprisonment for 
 six months. 
 
 1 Stroud, p. 39. 2 Brevard s Digest, p. 241. 
 
 2 Stroud s Sketch, p. 40. 2 Brevard s Digest, 241. James s Digest, 
 392. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 329 
 
 The next protective statute to be noticed is the following 
 from the act of 1740, South Carolina : - 
 
 " In case any person shall willfully cut out the tongue, put out 
 the eye, ... or cruelly scald, burn, or deprive any slave of any 
 limb, or member, or shall inflict any other cruel punishment, 
 other than by whipping or beating with a horsewhip, cowskin, 
 switch, or small stick, or by putting irons on, or confining 
 or imprisoning such slave, every such person shall, for every 
 such offense, forfeit the sum of one hundred pounds, current 
 money." 1 
 
 The language of this law, like many other^of these pro 
 tective enactments, is exceedingly suggestive ; the first sug 
 gestion that occurs is, What sort of an institution, and what 
 sort of a state of society is it, that called out a law worded 
 like this ? Laws are generally not made against practices 
 that do not exist, and exist with some degree of frequency. 
 
 But let us look further : What is to be the penalty 
 when any of these fiendish things are done ? Why, the 
 man forfeits a hundred pounds, current money. Surely he 
 ought to pay as much as that for doing so very unnecessary 
 an act, when the Legislature bountifully allows him to 
 inflict any torture which revengeful ingenuity could devise, 
 by means of horsewhip, cowhide, switch, or small stick, or 
 putting irons on, or confining and imprisoning. One would 
 surely think that here was sufficient scope and variety of 
 legalized means of torture to satisfy any ordinary appetite 
 for vengeance. It would appear decidedly that any more 
 piquant varieties of agony ought to be an extra charge. 
 The advocates of slavery are fond of comparing the situation 
 of the slave with that of the English laborer. We are not 
 aware that the English laborer has been so unfortunate as 
 to be protected by any enactment like this, since the days 
 of villeinage. 
 
 1 Stroud, p. 40. 2 Brevard s Digest, 241. 
 
330 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Now, compare this other statute of Louisiana (Rev. 
 Stat., 1852, p. 552, 151) : - 
 
 " If any person or persons, etc., shall cut or break any iron chain 
 or collar, which any master of slaves should have used, in order 
 to prevent the running away or escape of any such slave or 
 slaves, such person or persons so offending shall, on conviction, 
 etc., be fined not less than two hundred dollars, nor exceeding 
 one thousand dollars ; and suffer imprisonment for a term not 
 exceeding two years, nor less than six months." 1 Act of Assem 
 bly of March 6, 1819. Pamphlet, page 64. 
 
 Some Englishmen may naturally ask, " What is this iron 
 collar which the Legislature have thought worthy of being 
 protected by a special act ? " On this subject will be pre 
 sented the testimony of an unimpeachable witness, Miss 
 Sarah M. Grimke, a personal friend of the author. " Miss 
 Grimke is a daughter of the late Judge Grimke, of the 
 Supreme Court of South Carolina, and sister of the late 
 Hon. Thomas S. Grimke." She is now a member of the 
 Society of Friends, and resides in Bellville, New Jersey. 
 The statement given is of a kind that its author did not 
 mean to give, nor wish to give, and never would have given, 
 had it not been made necessary to illustrate this passage in 
 the slave law. The account occurs in a statement which 
 Miss Grimke furnished to her brother-in-law, Mr. Weld, 
 and has been before the public ever since 1839, in his work 
 entitled " Slavery as It Is," p. 22. 
 
 " A handsome mulatto woman, about eighteen or twenty years 
 of age, whose independent spirit could not brook the degrada 
 tion of slavery, was in the habit of running away : for this 
 offense she had been repeatedly sent by her master and mistress 
 to be whipped by the keeper of the Charleston work-house. 
 This had been done with such inhuman severity as to lacerate 
 her back in a most shocking manner ; a finger could not be laid 
 between the cuts. But the love of liberty was too strong to be 
 annihilated by torture ; and, as a last resort, she was whipped 
 at several different times, and kept a close prisoner. A heavy 
 
 i Stroud, p. 13. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 33 1 
 
 iron collar, with three long prongs projecting from it, was 
 placed round her neck, and a strong and sound front tooth was 
 extracted, to serve as a mark to describe her, in case of escape. 
 Her sufferings at this time were agonizing ; she could lie in no 
 position but on her back, which was sore from scourgings, as I 
 can testify from personal inspection ; and her only place of rest 
 was the floor, on a blanket. These outrages were committed in 
 a family where the mistress daily read the Scriptures, and as 
 sembled her children for family worship. She was accounted, 
 and was really, so far as almsgiving was concerned, a charitable 
 woman, and tender-hearted to the poor ; and yet this suffering 
 slave, who was the seamstress of the family, was continually in 
 her presence, sitting in her chamber to sew, or engaged in her 
 other household^ work, with her lacerated and bleeding back, 
 her mutilated mouth, and heavy iron collar, without, so far as 
 appeared, exciting any feelings of compassion." 
 
 This iron collar the author has often heard of from 
 sources equally authentic. 1 That one will meet with it 
 every day in walking the streets is not probable ; but that 
 it must have been used with some great degree of frequency 
 is evident from the fact of a law being thought necessary 
 to protect it. But look at the penalty of the two protective 
 laws ! The fiendish cruelties described in the act of South 
 Carolina cost the perpetrator not more than five hundred 
 dollars, if he does them before white people. The act of 
 humanity costs from two hundred to one thousand dollars, 
 and imprisonment from six months or two years, according 
 to discretion of court ! What public sentiment was it which 
 made these laws ? 
 
 1 The iron collar was also in vogue in North Carolina, as the following 
 extract from the statute-book will show. The wearers of this article of 
 apparel certainly have some reason to complain of the " tyranny of fash 
 ion." 
 
 " When the keeper of the said public jail shall, by direction of such 
 court as aforesaid, let out any negro or runaway to hire, to any person or 
 persons whomsoever, the said keeper shall, at the time of his delivery, 
 cause an iron collar to be put on the neck of such negro or runawav, with 
 the letters P. G. stamped thereon ; and thereafter the said keeper shall 
 not be answerable for any escape of the said negro or runaway." Potter s 
 JRevisal, i. 162. 
 
332 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 PROTECTIVE ACTS WITH REGARD TO FOOD AND RAIMENT, 
 LABOR, ETC. 
 
 Having finished the consideration of the laws which pro 
 tect the life and limb of the slave, the reader may feel a 
 curiosity to know something of the provisions by which 
 he is protected in regard to food and clothing, and from 
 the exactions of excessive labor. It is true, there are mul 
 titudes of men in the Northern States who would say, at 
 once, that such enactments, on the very face of them, must 
 be superfluous and absurd. " What ! " they say, " are not 
 the slaves property ? and is it likely that any man will 
 impair the market value of his own property by not giving 
 them sufficient food or clothing, or by overworking them ? " 
 This process of reasoning appears to have been less convinc 
 ing to the legislators of Southern States than to gentlemen 
 generally at the North ; since, as Judge Taylor says, " the 
 act of 1786 l (Iredell s Revisal, p. 588) does, in the pream 
 ble, recognize the fact that many persons, by cruel treat 
 ment of their slaves, cause them to commit crimes for which 
 they are executed ; " and the judge further explains this 
 language, by saying, " The cruel treatment here alluded to 
 must consist in withholding from them the necessaries of 
 life ; and the crimes thus resulting are such as are necessary 
 to furnish them with food and raiment. " 
 
 The State of South Carolina, in the act of 1740 (see Stroud s 
 Sketch, p. 28), had a section with the following language 
 in its preamble : 
 
 " Whereas many owners of slaves, and others who have the care, 
 management, and overseeing of slaves, do confine them so closely 
 to hard labor that they have not sufficient time for natural rest." 2 
 
 1 Wheeler, p. 220. State v. Sue, Cameron & Norwood s C. Rep. 54. 
 
 2 Stroud, p. 29. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 333 
 
 And the law goes on to enact that the slave shall not 
 work more than fifteen hours a day in summer, and fourteen 
 in winter. Judge Stroud makes it appear that in three of 
 the slave States the time allotted for work to convicts in 
 prison, whose punishment is to consist in hard labor, cannot 
 exceed ten hours, even in the summer months. 
 
 This was the protective act of South Carolina, designed 
 to reform the abusive practices of masters who confined their 
 slaves so closely that they had not time for natural rest ! 
 What sort of habits of thought do these humane provisions 
 show, in the makers of them ? In order to protect the 
 slave from what they consider undue exaction, they hu 
 manely provide that he shall be obliged to work only four 
 or five hours longer than the convicts in the prison of the 
 neighboring State ! In the Island of Jamaica, besides many 
 holidays which were accorded by law to the slave, ten hours 
 a day was the extent to which he was compelled by law 
 ordinarily to work. 
 
 With regard to overseers, a description of this class of be 
 ings is furnished by Mr. Wirt, in his Life of Patrick Henry, 
 page 34. " Last and lowest," he says [of different classes 
 in society], " a feculum of beings called overseers, a most 
 abject, degraded, unprincipled race." Now, suppose, while 
 the master is in Charleston, enjoying literary leisure, the 
 slaves on some Bellemont or other plantation, getting tired 
 of being hungry and cold, form themselves into a committee 
 of the whole, to see what is to be done. A broad-shoul 
 dered, courageous fellow, whom we can call Tom, declares 
 it is too bad, and he won t stand it any longer ; and, having 
 by some means become acquainted with this benevolent pro 
 tective act, resolves to make an appeal to the horns of this 
 legislative altar. Tom talks stoutly, having just been 
 bought on to the place, and been used to better quarters 
 elsewhere. The women and children perhaps admire, but 
 
334 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 the venerable elders of the plantation, Sambo, Cudge, 
 Pomp, and old Aunt Dinah, tell him he better mind him 
 self, and keep clar o dat ar. Tom, being young and pro 
 gressive, does not regard these conservative maxims ; he is 
 determined that, if there is such a thing as justice to be got, 
 he will have it. After considerable research, he finds some 
 white man in the neighborhood verdant enough to enter the 
 complaint for him. Master Legree finds himself, one sun 
 shiny, pleasant morning, walked off to some Justice Dog 
 berry s, to answer to the charge of not giving his niggers 
 enough to eat and wear. We will call the infatuated white 
 man who has undertaken this fool s errand, Master Shallow. 
 Let us imagine a scene : Legree, standing carelessly with 
 his hands in his pockets, rolling a quid of tobacco in his 
 mouth ; Justice Dogberry, seated in all the majesty of law, 
 reinforced by a decanter of whiskey and some tumblers, in 
 tended to assist in illuminating the intellect in such obscure 
 
 Justice Dogberry. Come, gentlemen, take a little some 
 thing to begin with. Mr. Legree, sit down ; sit down, 
 Mr. a what s-your-name ? Mr. Shallow. 
 
 Mr. Legree and Mr. Shallow each sit down, and take 
 their tumbler of whiskey and water. After some little con 
 versation, the justice introduces the business as follows : 
 
 " Now, about this nigger business. Gentlemen, you know 
 
 the act of um um, where the deuce is that act ? 
 
 [Fumbling an old law-book.] How plagued did you ever 
 hear of that act, Shallow ? I m sure I d forgot all about 
 it. Oh ! here t is. Well, Mr. Shallow, the act says you 
 must make proof, you observe. 
 
 Mr. Shallow. [Stuttering and hesitating.] Good land ! 
 why, don t everybody see that them ar niggers are most 
 starved ? Only see how ragged they are ! 
 
 Justice. I can t say as I ve observed it particular. 
 Seem to be very well contented. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 335 
 
 Shallow. [Eagerly.] But just ask Pomp, or Sambo, 
 or Dinah, or Torn ! 
 
 Justice Dogberry. [With dignity.] 1 7 m astonished at 
 you, Mr. Shallow ! You think of producing negro testi 
 mony ? I hope I know the law better than that ! We 
 must have direct proof, you know. 
 
 Shallow is posed ; Legree significantly takes another 
 tumbler of whiskey and water, and Justice Dogberry gives 
 a long ahe-a-um. After a few moments the justice speaks : 
 
 " Well, after all, I suppose, Mr. Legree, you would n t 
 have any objections to swarin 7 off ; that settles it all, you 
 know. 77 
 
 As swearing is what Mr. Legree is rather more accus 
 tomed to do than anything else that could be named, a more 
 appropriate termination of the affair could not be suggested ; 
 and he swears, accordingly, to any extent, and with any 
 fullness and variety of oath that could be desired ; and thus 
 the little affair terminates. But it does not terminate thus 
 for Tom, or Sambo, Dinah, or any others who have been 
 alluded to for authority. What will happen to them, when 
 Mr. Legree comes home, had better be left to conjecture. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE EXECUTION OF JUSTICE 
 
 Having given some account of what sort of statutes are 
 to be found on the law-books of slavery, the reader will 
 hardly be satisfied without knowing what sort of trials are 
 held under them. We will quote one specimen of a trial, re 
 ported in the " Charleston Courier 7 of May 6, 1847. The 
 " Charleston Courier 77 is one of the leading papers of South 
 Carolina, and the case is reported with the utmost apparent 
 innocence that there was anything about the trial that could 
 
336 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 reflect in the least on the character of the State for the ut 
 most legal impartiality. In fact, the " Charleston Courier " 
 ushers it into public view with the following flourish of 
 trumpets, as something which is forever to confound those 
 who say that South Carolina does not protect the life of the 
 slave : 
 
 THE TRIAL FOR MURDER. 
 
 Our community was deeply interested and excited, yesterday, 
 by a case of great importance, and also of entire novelty in our 
 jurisprudence. It was the trial of a lady of respectable family, 
 and the mother of a large family, charged with the murder of 
 her own or her husband s slave. The court-house was thronged 
 with spectators of the exciting drama, who remained, with 
 unabated interest and undiminished numbers, until the ver 
 dict was rendered acquitting the prisoner. We cannot but 
 regard the fact of this trial as a salutary, although, in itself, 
 lamentable occurrence, as it will show to the world that, how 
 ever panoplied in station and wealth, and although challeng 
 ing those sympathies which are the right and inheritance of 
 the female sex, no one will be suffered, in this community, to 
 escape the most sifting scrutiny, at the risk of even an igno 
 minious death, who stands charged with the suspicion of mur 
 dering a slave, to whose life our law now extends the segis of 
 protection, in the same manner as it does to that of the white 
 man, save only in the character of the evidence necessary for con 
 viction or defense. While evil-disposed persons at home are 
 thus taught that they may expect rigorous trial and condign 
 punishment, when, actuated by malignant passions, they in 
 vade the life of the humble slave, the enemies of our domestic 
 institution abroad will find, their calumnies to the contrary 
 notwithstanding, that we are resolved, in this particular, to do 
 the full measure of our duty to the laws of humanity. We 
 subjoin a report of the case. 
 
 The proceedings of the trial are thus given : 
 
 As some of our readers may not have been in the habit 
 of endeavoring to extract anything like common sense or 
 information from documents so very concisely and lumi 
 nously worded, the author will just state her own opinion 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 337 
 
 that the above document [the indictment] is intended to 
 charge Mrs. Eliza Rowand with having killed her slave 
 Maria, in one of two ways : either with beating her on the 
 head with her own hands, or having the same deed per 
 formed by proxy, by her slave-man Richard. The whole 
 case is now presented. In order to make the reader clearly 
 understand the arguments, it is necessary that he bear in 
 mind that the law of 1740, as we have before shown, pun 
 ished the murder of the slave only with fine and disfran- 
 chisement, while the law of 1821 punishes it with death. 
 
 On motion of Mr. Petigru, the prisoner was allowed to 
 remove from the bar, and take her place by her counsel ; the 
 judge saying he granted the motion only because the prisoner 
 was a woman, but that no such privilege would have been ex 
 tended by him to any man. 
 
 The Attorney-general, Henry Bailey, Esq., then rose and 
 opened the the case for the state, in substance, as follows : 
 
 The prisoner stood indicted for the murder of a slave. This 
 was supposed not to be murder at common law. At least, it 
 was not murder by our former statute ; but the act of 1821 had 
 placed the killing of the white man and the black man on the 
 same footing. He here read the act of 1821, declaring that 
 " any person who shall willfully, deliberately, and maliciously 
 murder a slave, shall, on conviction thereof, suffer death with 
 out benefit of clergy." The rules applicable to murder at com 
 mon law were generally applicable, however, to the present 
 case. The inquiries to be made may be reduced to two : 1. Is 
 the party charged guilty of the fact of killing ? This must be 
 clearly made out by proof. If she be not guilty of killing, 
 there is an end of the case. 2. The character of that killing, 
 or of the offense. Was it done with malice aforethought ? 
 Malice is the essential ingredient of the crime. Where killing 
 takes place, malice is presumed, unless the contrary appear ; 
 and this must be gathered from the attending circumstances. 
 Malice is a technical term, importing a different meaning from 
 that conveyed by the same word in common parlance. Accord 
 ing to the learned Michael Foster, it consists not in " malevo 
 lence to particulars," it does not mean hatred to any particu 
 lar individual, but is general in its import and application. 
 
338 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 But even killing, with intention to kill, is not always murder ; 
 there may be justifiable and excusable homicide, and killing 
 in sudden heat and passion is so modified to manslaughter. 
 Yet there may be murder when there is no ill-feeling, nay, 
 perfect indifference to the slain, as in the case of the robber 
 who slays to conceal his crime. Malice aforethought is that 
 depraved feeling of the heart, which makes one regardless 
 of social duty, and fatally bent on mischief. It is fulfilled by 
 that recklessness of law and human life which is indicated 
 by shooting into a crowd, and thus doing murder on even an 
 unknown object. Such a feeling the law regards as hateful, 
 and visits, in its practical exhibition, with condign punish 
 ment, because opposed to the very existence of law and society. 
 One may do fatal mischief without this recklessness ; but when 
 the act is done, regardless of consequences, and death ensues, it 
 is murder in the eye of the law. If the facts to be proved in this 
 case should not come up to these requisitions, he implored the 
 jury to acquit the accused, as at once due to law and justice. 
 They should note every fact with scrutinizing eye, and ascer 
 tain whether the fatal result proceeded from passing accident 
 or from brooding revenge, which the law stamped with the 
 odious name of malice. He would make no further prelimi 
 nary remarks, but proceed at once to lay the facts before them, 
 from the mouths of the witnesses. 
 
 Evidence. 
 
 J. Portcous Deveaux sworn. He is the coroner of Charles 
 ton district ; held the inquest, on the 7th of January last, on 
 the body of the deceased slave, Maria, the slave of Robert 
 Rowand, at the residence of Mrs. T. C. Bee (the mother of the 
 prisoner), in Logan Street. The body was found in an out 
 building a kitchen ; it was the body of an old and emaciated 
 person, between fifty and sixty years of age ; it was not ex 
 amined in his presence by physicians ; saw some few scratches 
 about the face ; adjourned to the City Hall. Mrs. Rowand 
 was examined ; her examination was in writing ; it was here 
 produced, and read, as follows : 
 
 " Mrs. Eliza Rowand sworn. Says Maria is her nurse, and 
 had misbehaved on yesterday morning ; deponent sent Maria 
 to Mr. Rowand s house, to be corrected by Simon; deponent 
 sent Maria from the house about seven o clock, A. M. ; she 
 returned to her about nine o clock ; came into her chamber ; 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 339 
 
 Simon did not come into the chamber at any time previous 
 to the death of Maria ; deponent says Maria fell down in the 
 chamber ; deponent had her seated up by Richard, who was 
 then in the chamber, and deponent gave Maria some asaf oetida ; 
 deponent then left the room ; Richard came down and said 
 Maria was dead ; deponent says Richard did not strike Maria, 
 nor did any one else strike her, in deponent s chamber. Rich 
 ard left the chamber immediately with deponent ; Maria was 
 about fifty-two years of age ; deponent sent Maria by Richard 
 to Simon, to Mr. Rowand s house, to be corrected ; Mr. Rowand 
 was absent from the city; Maria died about twelve o clock ; 
 Richard and Maria were on good terms ; deponent was in the 
 chamber all the while that Richard and Maria were there 
 together. 
 
 "ELIZA ROWAND. 
 
 " Sworn to before me this 7th January, 1847. 
 
 " J. P. DEVEAUX, Coroner, D. C." 
 
 Witness went to the chamber of prisoner, where the death 
 occurred ; saw nothing particular ; some pieces of wood in a 
 box, set in the chimney ; his attention was called to one piece, 
 in particular, eighteen inches long, three inches wide, and about 
 one and a half inch thick ; did not measure it ; the jury of 
 inquest did ; it was not a light-wood knot ; thinks it was of 
 oak ; there was some pine wood and some split oak. Dr. Peter 
 Porcher was called to examine the body professionally, who 
 did so out of witness presence. 
 
 Before this witness left the stand, B. F. Hunt, Esq., one of 
 the counsel for the prisoner, rose and opened the defense before 
 the jury, in substance as follows : 
 
 He said that the scene before them was a very novel one ; 
 and whether for good or evil, he would not pretend to pro 
 phesy. It was the first time in the history of this State that 
 a lady of good character and respectable connections stood 
 arraigned at the bar, and had been put on trial for her life, 
 on facts arising out of her domestic relations to her own slave. 
 It was a spectacle consoling, and cheering, perhaps, to those 
 who owed no good will to the institutions of our country ; but 
 calculated only to excite pain and regret among ourselves. 
 He would not state a proposition so revolting to humanity as 
 that crime should go unpunished ; but judicial interference be 
 tween the slave and the owner was a matter at once of delicacy 
 
340 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 and danger. It was the first time he had ever stood between 
 a slave-owner and the public prosecutor, and his sensations 
 were anything but pleasant. This is an entirely different case 
 from homicide letween equals in society. Subordination is indis 
 pensable where slavery exists; and in this there is no new 
 principle involved. The same principle prevails in every coun 
 try ; on shipboard and in the army a large discretion is always 
 left to the superior. Charges by inferiors against their supe 
 riors were always to be viewed with great circumspection at 
 least, and especially when the latter are charged with cruelty 
 or crime against subordinates. In the relation of owner and 
 slave there is an absence of the usual motives for murder, and 
 strong inducements against it on the part of the former. Life 
 is usually taken from avarice or passion. The master gains 
 nothing, but loses much, by the death of his slave ; and when 
 he takes the life of the latter deliberately, there must be more 
 than ordinary malice to instigate the deed. The policy of 
 altering the old law of 1740, which punished the killing of a 
 slave with fine and political disfranchisement, was more than 
 doubtful. It was the law of our colonial ancestors ; it con 
 formed to their policy and was approved by their wisdom, and 
 it continued undisturbed by their posterity until the year 1821. 
 It was engrafted on our policy in counteraction of the schemes 
 and machinations, or in deference to the clamors, of those who 
 formed plans for our improvement, although not interested in 
 nor understanding our institutions, and whose interference led 
 to the tragedy of 1822. 
 
 Truth has been distorted in this case, and murder manufac 
 tured out of what was nothing more than ordinary domestic 
 discipline. Chastisement must be inflicted until subordination 
 is produced ; and the extent of the punishment is not to be 
 judged of by one s neighbors, but by himself. The event in 
 this case has been unfortunate and sad; but there was no 
 motive for the taking of life. There is no pecuniary interest 
 in the owner to destroy his slave ; the murder of his slave can 
 only happen from ferocious passions of the master, filling his 
 own bosom with anguish and contrition. This case has no 
 other basis but unfounded rumor, commonly believed, on evi 
 dence that will not venture here, the offspring of that passion and 
 depravity which make up falsehood. The hope of freedom, of 
 change of owners, revenge, are all motives with slave witnesses 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 341 
 
 to malign their owners; and to credit such testimony would be 
 to dissolve human society. Where deliberate, willful, and ma 
 licious murder is done, whether by male or female, the retribu 
 tion of the law is a debt to God and man ; but the jury should 
 beware lest it fall upon the innocent. The offense charged 
 was not strictly murder at common law. The act of 1740 was 
 founded on the practical good sense of our old planters, and 
 its spirit still prevails. The act of 1821 is, by its terms, an act 
 only to increase the punishment of persons convicted of mur 
 dering a slave, and this is a refinement in humanity of doubtful 
 policy. But, by the act of 1821, the murder must be willful, 
 deliberate, and malicious ; and, when punishment is due to the 
 slave, the master must not be held to strict account for going 
 an inch beyond the mark; whether for doing so he shall be a 
 felon, is a question for the jury to solve. The master must 
 conquer a refractory slave ; and deliberation, so as to render clear 
 the existence of malice, is necessary to bring the master within 
 the provision of the act. He bade the jury remember the words 
 of Him who spake as never man spake, " Let him that has 
 never sinned throw the first stone" They, as masters, might regret 
 excesses to which they have themselves carried punishment. He was 
 not at all surprised at the course of the attorney-general ; it 
 was his wont to treat every case with perfect fairness. He 
 (Colonel H.) agreed that the inquiry should be 
 
 1. Into the fact of the death. 
 
 2. The character or motive of the act. 
 
 The examination of the prisoner showed conclusively that 
 the slave died a natural death, and not from personal violence. 
 She was chastised with a lawful weapon, was in weak health, 
 nervous, made angry by her punishment, excited. The story 
 was then a plain one ; the community had been misled by the 
 creations of imagination, or the statements of interested slaves. 
 The negro came into her mistress chamber ; fell on the floor ; 
 medicine was given her ; it was supposed she was asleep, but 
 she slept the sleep of death. To show the wisdom and policy 
 of the old act of 1740 (this indictment is under both acts, 
 the punishment only altered by that of 1821), he urged that a 
 case like this was not murder at common law ; nor is the same 
 evidence applicable at common law. There, murder was pre 
 sumed from killing ; not so in the case of a slave. The act of 
 1740 permits a master, when his slave is killed in his presence, 
 there being no other white person present, to exculpate him- 
 
342 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 self by his own oath ; and this exculpation is complete, unless 
 clearly contravened by the evidence of two white witnesses. 
 This is exactly what the prisoner has done ; she has, as the 
 law permits, by calling on God, exculpated herself. And her 
 oath is good, at least against the slander of her own slaves. 
 Which, then, should prevail, the clamors of others, or the 
 policy of the law established by our colonial ancestors ? There 
 would not be a tittle of positive evidence against the prisoner, 
 nothing but circumstantial evidence ; and ingenious combina 
 tion might be made to lead to any conclusion. Justice was all 
 that his client asked. She appealed to liberal and high-minded 
 men, and she rejoiced in the privilege of doing so, to ac 
 cord her that justice they would demand for themselves. 
 [Three physicians were called by the prosecution.] 
 
 The evidence for the prosecution here closed, and no wit 
 nesses were called for the defense. 
 
 The jury were then successively addressed, ably and elo 
 quently, by J. L. Petigru and James S. Rhett, Esqrs., on behalf 
 of the prisoner, and H. Bailey, Esq., on behalf of the State, and 
 B. F. Hunt, Esq., in reply. Of those speeches, and also of the 
 judge s charge, we have taken full notes, but have neither time 
 nor space to insert them here. 
 
 His Honor, Judge O Neall, then charged the jury eloquently 
 and ably on the facts, vindicating the existing law, making 
 death the penalty for the murder of a slave ; but, on the law, 
 intimated to the jury that he held the act of 1740 so far still in 
 force as to admit of the prisoner s exculpation by her own oath, 
 unless clearly disproved by the oaths of two witnesses ; and that 
 they were, therefore, in his opinion, bound to acquit, although 
 he left it to them, wholly, to say whether the prisoner was guilty 
 of murder, killing in sudden heat and passion, or not guilty. 
 
 The jury then retired, and, in about twenty or thirty minutes, 
 returned with a verdict of " Not Guilty." 
 
 There are some points which appear in this statement of 
 the trial, especially in the plea for the defense. Particular 
 attention is called to the following passage : 
 
 " Fortunately [said the lawyer] the jury were of the coun 
 try ; acquainted with our policy and practice ; composed of 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 343 
 
 men too honorable to be led astray by the noise and clamor out 
 of doors. All was now as it should be ; at least, a court of jus 
 tice had assembled to which his client had fled for refuge and 
 safety ; its threshold was sacred ; no profane clamors entered 
 there ; but legal investigation was had of facts." 
 
 From this it plainly appears that the case was a notorious 
 one ; so notorious and atrocious as to break through all the 
 apathy which slave-holding institutions tend to produce, 
 and to surround the court-house with noise and clamor. 
 
 From another intimation in the same speech, it would 
 appear that there was abundant testimony of slaves to the 
 direct fact, testimony which left no kind of doubt on 
 the popular mind. Why else does he thus earnestly warn 
 the jury ? 
 
 " He warned the jury that they were to listen to no evidence 
 but that of free white persons, given on oath in open court ; 
 they were to imagine none that came not from them. It was 
 for this that they were selected ; their intelligence putting them 
 beyond the influence of unfounded accusations, unsustained 
 by legal proof : of legends of aggravated cruelty, founded on 
 the evidence of negroes, and arising from weak and wicked 
 falsehoods." 
 
 See also this remarkable admission : " Truth had been 
 distorted in this case, and murder manufactured out of what 
 was nothing more than ORDINARY DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE." 
 If the reader refers to the testimony, he will find it testified 
 that the woman appeared to be about sixty years old ; that 
 she was much emaciated ; that there had been a succession 
 of blows on the top of her head, and one violent one over 
 the ear ; and that, in the opinion of a surgeon, these blows 
 were sufficient to cause death. Yet the lawyer for the de 
 fense coolly remarks that " murder had been manufactured 
 out of what was ordinary domestic discipline" Are we to 
 understand that beating feeble old women on the head, in 
 this manner, is a specimen of ordinary domestic discipline 
 in Charleston ? What would have been said if any anti- 
 
344 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 slavery newspaper at the North had made such an assertion 
 as this ? Yet the " Charleston Courier " reports this state 
 ment without comment or denial. But let us hear the lady s 
 lawyer go still further in vindication of this ordinary domes 
 tic discipline : " Chastisement must be inflicted until subor 
 dination is produced ; and the extent of the punishment is 
 not to be judged by one s neighbors, but by himself. The 
 event, ix THIS CASE, has been unfortunate and sad." The 
 lawyer admits that the result of thumping a feeble old 
 woman on the head has, in this case, been " unfortunate 
 and sad." The old thing had not strength to bear it, and 
 had no greater regard for the convenience of the family, and 
 the reputation of " the institution," than to die, and so get 
 the family and the community generally into trouble. It 
 will appear from this that in most cases where old women 
 are thumped on the head they have stronger constitutions 
 or more consideration. 
 
 Again he says, " When punishment is due to the slave, 
 the master must not be held to strict account for going an 
 inch beyond the mark." And finally, and most astound 
 ing of all, comes this : " He bade the jury remember the 
 words of him who spake as never man spake, LET 
 
 HIM THAT HATH NEVER SIXXED THROW THE FIRST 
 
 STOXE. They, as masters, might regret excesses to which 
 they themselves might have carried punishment." 
 
 What sort of an insinuation is this ? Did he mean to 
 say that almost all the jurymen had probably done things 
 of the same sort, and therefore could have nothing to say 
 in this case ? and did no member of the jury get up and 
 resent such a charge ? From all that appears, the jury acqui 
 esced in it as quite a matter of course ; and the " Charles 
 ton Courier " quotes it without comment, in the record of a 
 trial which it says " will show to the world HOW the law 
 extends the segis of her protection alike over the white man 
 and the humblest slave." 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 345 
 
 Lastly, notice the decision of the judge, which has be 
 come law in South Carolina. What point does it establish ? 
 That the simple oath of the master, in face of all circum 
 stantial evidence to the contrary, may clear him, when the 
 murder of a slave is the question. And this trial is paraded 
 as a triumphant specimen of legal impartiality and equity ! 
 " If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that 
 darkness ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE GOOD OLD TIMES 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 MODERATE CORRECTION AND ACCIDENTAL DEATH. 
 
 STATE V. CASTLEMAN 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 PRINCIPLES ESTABLISHED. STATE V. LEGREE ; A CASE 
 
 NOT IN THE BOOKS 
 
 From a review of all the legal cases which have hitherto 
 been presented, and of the principles established in the 
 judicial decisions upon them, the following facts must be 
 apparent to the reader : 
 
 First, That masters do, now and then, kill slaves by the 
 torture. 
 
 Second, That the fact of so killing a slave is not of itself 
 held presumption of murder, in slave jurisprudence. 
 
 Third, That the slave in the act of resistance to his mas 
 ter may always be killed. 
 
346 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 From these things it will be seen to follow that, if the 
 facts of the death of Tom had been fully proved by two 
 white witnesses, in open court, Legree could not have been 
 held by any consistent interpreter of slave law to be a mur 
 derer 5 for Tom was in the act of resistance to the will of 
 his master. His master had laid a command on him, in the 
 presence of other slaves. Tom had deliberately refused to 
 obey the command. The master commenced chastisement, 
 to reduce him to obedience. And it is evident at the first 
 glance to every one that, if the law does not sustain him 
 in enforcing obedience in such a case, there is an end of the 
 whole slave power. No Southern court would dare to de 
 cide that Legree did wrong to continue the punishment, as 
 long as Tom continued the insubordination. Legree stood 
 by him every moment of the time, pressing him to yield, 
 and offering to let him go as soon as he did yield. Tom s 
 resistance was insurrection. It was an example which could 
 not be allowed, for a moment, on any Southern plantation. 
 By the express words of the constitution of Georgia, and by 
 the understanding and usage of all slave law, the power of 
 life and death is always left in the hands of the master, in 
 exigencies like this. This is not a case like that of Souther 
 v. The Commonwealth. The victim of Souther was not in 
 a state of resistance or insurrection. The punishment, in 
 his case, was a simple vengeance for a past offense, and not 
 an attempt to reduce him to subordination. 
 
 There is no principle of slave jurisprudence by which a 
 man could be pronounced a murderer, for acting as Legree 
 did, in his circumstances. Everybody must see that such 
 an admission would strike at the foundations of the slave 
 system. To be sure, Tom was in a state of insurrection for 
 conscience sake. But the law does not, and cannot, con 
 template that the negro shall have a conscience independent 
 of his master s. To allow that the negro may refuse to 
 obey his master whenever he thinks that obedience would 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 347 
 
 be wrong, would be to produce universal anarchy. If Tom 
 had been allowed to disobey his master in this case, for 
 conscience sake, the next day Sambo would have had a case 
 of conscience, and Quimbo the next. Several of them 
 might very justly have thought that it was a sin to work as 
 they did. The mulatto woman would have remembered 
 that the command of God forbade her to take another hus 
 band. Mothers might have considered that it was more 
 their duty to stay at home and take care of their children, 
 when they were young and feeble, than to work for Mr. 
 Legree in the cotton-field. There would be no end to the 
 havoc made upon cotton-growing operations, were the negro 
 allowed the right of maintaining his own conscience on 
 moral subjects. If the slave system is a right system, and 
 ought to be maintained, Mr. Legree ought not to be blamed 
 for his conduct in this case ; for he did only what was 
 absolutely essential to maintain the system ; and Tom died 
 in fanatical and foolhardy resistance to " the powers that 
 be, which are ordained of God." He followed a sentimen 
 tal impulse of his desperately depraved heart, and neglected 
 those " solid teachings of the written word," which, as 
 recently elucidated, have proved so refreshing to eminent 
 political men. 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF JUSTICE OVER LAW 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A COMPARISON OF THE ROMAN LAW OF SLAVERY 
 WITH THE AMERICAN 
 
348 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE MEN BETTER THAN THEIR LAWS 
 
 Judgment is turned away backward, 
 And Justice standeth afar off ; 
 For Truth is fallen in the street, 
 And Equity cannot enter. 
 Yea, Truth faileth ; 
 
 And HE THAT DEPARTETH FROM EVIL MAKETH HIMSELF A PREY. 
 
 ISAIAH 59: 14, 15. 
 
 There is one very remarkable class of laws yet to be 
 considered. 
 
 So full of cruelty and unmerciful severity is the slave- 
 code, such an atrocity is the institution of which it is the 
 legal definition, that there are multitudes of individuals 
 too generous and too just to be willing to go to the full 
 extent of its restrictions and deprivations. 
 
 A generous man, instead of regarding the poor slave as a 
 piece of property, dead, and void of rights, is tempted to 
 regard him rather as a helpless younger brother, or as a 
 defenseless child, and to extend to him, by his own good 
 right arm, that protection and those rights which the law 
 denies him. A religious man, who, by the theory of his 
 belief, regards all men as brothers, and considers his Chris 
 tian slave, with himself, as a member of Jesus Christ, as 
 of one body, one spirit, and called in one hope of his call 
 ing, cannot willingly see him " doomed to live without 
 knowledge," without the power of reading the written 
 Word, and to raise up his children after him in the same 
 darkness. 
 
 Hence, if left to itself, individual humanity would, in 
 many cases, practically abrogate the slave-code. Individual 
 humanity would teach the slave to read and write, would 
 build school-houses for his children, and would, in very, very 
 many cases, enfranchise him. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 349 
 
 The result of all this has been foreseen. It has been fore 
 seen that the result of education would be general intelli 
 gence ; that the result of intelligence would be a knowledge 
 of personal rights ; and that an inquiry into the doctrine of 
 personal rights would be fatal to the system. It has been 
 foreseen, also, that the example of disinterestedness and gen 
 erosity, in emancipation, might carry with it a generous 
 contagion, until it should become universal ; that the 
 example of educated and emancipated slaves would prove 
 a dangerous excitement to those still in bondage. 
 
 For this reason, the American slave-code, which, as we 
 have already seen, embraces, substantially, all the barbari 
 ties of that of ancient Rome, has had added to it a set of 
 laws more cruel than any which ancient and heathen Rome 
 ever knew, laws designed to shut against the slave his 
 last refuge, the humanity of his master. The master, in 
 ancient Rome, might give his slave whatever advantages 
 of education he chose, or at any time emancipate him, and 
 the state did not interfere to prevent. 1 
 
 But in America the laws, throughout all the slave States, 
 most rigorously forbid, in the first place, the education of 
 the slave. We do not profess to give all these laws, but a 
 few striking specimens may be presented. Our authority is 
 Judge Stroud s " Sketch of the Laws of Slavery." 
 
 The legislature of South Carolina, in 1740, enounced the 
 following preamble : 2 " Whereas, the having of slaves 
 taught to write, or suffering them to be employed in writing, 
 may be attended with great inconveniences ; " and enacted 
 that the crime of teaching a slave to write, or of employing 
 a slave as a scribe, should be punished by a fine of one hun 
 dred pounds, current money. If the reader will turn now 
 
 1 In and after the reign of Augustus, certain restrictive regulations were 
 passed, designed to prevent an increase of unworthy citizens by emanci 
 pation. They had, however, nothing like the stringent force of American 
 laws. 
 
 2 Stroud s Sketch, p. 88. 
 
350 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 to the infamous " protective " statute, enacted by the same 
 legislature, in the same year, he will find that the same pen 
 alty has been appointed for the cutting out of the tongue, 
 putting out of the eye, cruel scalding, etc., of any slave, as 
 for the offense of teaching him to write ! That is to say, 
 that to teach him to write, and to put out his eyes, are to 
 be regarded as equally reprehensible. 
 
 That there might be no doubt of the " great and funda 
 mental policy " of the State, and that there might be full 
 security against the " great inconveniences " of " having of 
 slaves taught to write," it was enacted, in 1800, " That as 
 semblies of slaves, free negroes, etc., ... for the purpose 
 of mental instruction, in a confined or secret place, etc., 
 etc., is [are] declared to be an unlawful meeting ; " and 
 the officers are required to enter such confined places, and 
 disperse the " unlawful assemblage," inflicting, at their 
 discretion, " such corporal punishment, not exceeding twenty 
 lashes, upon such slaves, free negroes, etc., as they may 
 judge necessary for deterring them from the like unlaw 
 ful assemblage in future." 1 
 
 The statute-book of Virginia is adorned with a law simi 
 lar to the one last quoted. 2 
 
 The offense of teaching a slave to write was early pun 
 ished in Georgia, as in South Carolina, by a pecuniary fine. 
 But the city of Savannah seems to have found this penalty 
 insufficient to protect it from " great inconveniences," and we 
 learn, by a quotation in the work of Judge Stroud from a 
 number of " The Portfolio," that " the city has passed an 
 ordinance, by which any person that teaches any person of 
 color, slave or free, to read or write, or causes such person 
 to be so taught, is subjected to a fine of thirty dollars for 
 each offense ; and every person of color who shall keep a 
 school, to teach reading or writing, is subject to a fine of 
 
 1 Stroud s Sketch, p. 89. 2 Brevard s Digest, pp. 254, 255. 
 
 2 Stroud, pp. 88, 89. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 351 
 
 thirty dollars, or to be imprisoned ten days, and whipped 
 thirty-nine lashes." l 
 
 Secondly. In regard to religious privileges : 
 The State of Georgia has enacted a law, " To protect re 
 ligious societies in the exercise of their religious duties." 
 This law, after appointing rigorous penalties for the offense 
 of interrupting or disturbing a congregation of white persons } 
 concludes in the following words : 
 
 " No congregation, or company of negroes, shall, under pretense 
 of divine worship, assemble themselves, contrary to the act reg 
 ulating patrols." 2 
 
 " The act regulating patrols," as quoted by the editor of 
 Prince s Digest, empowers every justice of the peace to dis 
 perse ANY assembly or meeting of slaves which may disturb 
 the peace, etc., of his majesty s subjects, and permits that 
 every slave found at such a meeting shall " immediately be 
 corrected, WITHOUT TRIAL, by receiving on the bare back 
 twenty-five stripes with a whip, switch, or cowskin" B 
 
 The history of legislation in South Carolina is significant. 
 An act was passed in 1800, containing the following section : 
 
 " It shall not be lawful for any number of slaves, free negroes, 
 mulattoes or mestizoes, even in company with white persons, 
 to meet together and assemble for the purpose of mental in 
 struction or religious worship, either before the rising of the sun, 
 or after the going down of the same. And all magistrates, 
 sheriffs, militia officers, etc., etc., are hereby vested with power, 
 etc., for dispersing such assemblies, etc." 4 
 
 The law just quoted seems somehow to have had a pre 
 judicial effect upon the religious interests of the " slaves, 
 free negroes," etc., specified in it ; for, three years after 
 wards, on the petition of certain religious societies, a "pro 
 tective act " was passed, which should secure them this 
 
 1 Stroud s Sketch, pp. 89, 90. 
 
 2 Stroud, p. 93. Prince s Digest, p. 342. 
 s Stroud, p. 93. Prince s Digest, p. 447. 
 
 4 Stroud, p. 93. 2 Brevard s Dig. 254, 255. 
 
352 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 great religious privilege ; to wit, that it should be unlawful, 
 before nine o clock, <( to break into a place of meeting, 
 wherein shall be assembled the members of any religious 
 society of this State, provided a majority of them shall be 
 white persons, or otherwise to disturb their devotion, unless 
 such person shall have first obtained ... a warrant, etc." 
 
 Thirdly. It appears that many masters, who are dis 
 posed to treat their slaves generously, have allowed them to 
 accumulate property, to raise domestic animals for their 
 own use, and, in the case of intelligent servants, to go at 
 large, to hire their own time, and to trade upon their own 
 account. Upon all these practices the law comes down 
 with unmerciful severity. A penalty is inflicted on the 
 owner, but, with a rigor quite accordant with the tenor of 
 slave law, the offense is considered, in law, as that of the 
 slave, rather than that of the master ; so that, if the master is 
 generous enough not to regard the penalty which is imposed 
 upon himself, he may be restrained by the fear of bring 
 ing a greater evil upon his dependent. These laws are, in 
 some cases, so constructed as to make it for the interest 
 of the lowest and most brutal part of society that they be 
 enforced, by offering half the profits to the informer. We 
 give the following, as specimens of slave legislation on this 
 subject : 
 
 The law of South Carolina : 
 
 " It shall not be lawful for any slave to buy, sell, trade, 
 etc., for any goods, etc., without a license from the owner, etc. ; 
 nor shall any slave be permitted to keep any boat, periauger, 1 
 or canoe, or raise and breed, for the benefit of such slave, any 
 horses, mares, cattle, sheep, or hogs, under pain of forfeiting 
 all the goods, etc., and all the boats, periaugers, or canoes, 
 horses, mares, cattle, sheep, or hogs. And it shall be lawful for 
 any person whatsoever to seize and take away from any slave all 
 such goods, etc., boats, etc., etc., and to deliver the same into 
 the hands of any justice of the peace, nearest to the place where 
 
 i /. e., Periagua. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 353 
 
 the seizure shall be made ; and such justice shall take the oath 
 of the person making such seizure, concerning the manner 
 thereof ; and if the said justice shall be satisfied that such seiz 
 ure has been made according to law, he shall pronounce and 
 declare the goods so seized to be forfeited, and order the same 
 to be sold at public outcry, one half of the moneys arising 
 from such sale to go to the State, and the other half to him or 
 them that sue for the same." 1 
 
 The laws in many other States are similar to the above ; 
 but the State of Georgia has an additional provision, against 
 permitting the slave to hire himself to another for his own 
 benefit; a penalty of thirty dollars is imposed for every 
 weekly offense, on the part of the master, unless the labor 
 be done on his own premises. 2 Savannah, Augusta, and 
 Sunbury are places excepted. 
 
 In Virginia, "if the master shall permit his slave to hire 
 himself out," 8 the slave is to be apprehended, etc., and the 
 master to be fined. 
 
 In an early act of the legislature of the orthodox and 
 Presbyterian State of North Carolina, it is gratifying to see 
 how the judicious course of public policy is made to sub 
 serve the interests of Christian charity, how, in a single 
 ingenious sentence, provision is made for punishing the 
 offender against society, rewarding the patriotic informer, 
 and feeding the poor and destitute : 
 
 " All horses, cattle, hogs, or sheep, that, one month after the 
 passing of this act, shall belong to any slave, or be of any slave s 
 mark, in this State, shall be seized and sold by the county war 
 dens, and by them applied, the one half to the support of the 
 poor of the county, and the other half to the informer." 4 
 
 In Mississippi a fine of fifty dollars is imposed upon the 
 master who permits his slave to cultivate cotton for his own 
 use ; or who licenses his slave to go at large and trade as a 
 
 1 Stroud s Sketch, pp. 46, 47. James s Digest, 385, 386. Act of 1740. 
 
 2 2 Cobb s Dig. 284. 3 Stroud, p. 47. 
 * Stroud, p. 47. 
 
354 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 freeman ; or who is convicted of permitting his slave to keep 
 " stock of any description" 1 
 
 Fourthly. Stringent laws against emancipation exist in 
 nearly all the slave States. 
 
 In four of the States, South Carolina, Georgia, Ala 
 bama, and Mississippi, emancipation cannot be effected, 
 except by a special act of the legislature of the State. 2 
 
 In Georgia, the offense of setting free " any slave, or 
 slaves, in any other manner and form than the one pre 
 scribed," was punishable, according to the law of 1801, by 
 the forfeiture of two hundred dollars, to be recovered by 
 action or indictment / the slaves in question still remaining 
 " to all intents and purposes, as much in a state of slavery 
 as before they were manumitted." 
 
 Believers in human progress will be interested to know 
 that since the law of 1801 there has been a reform intro 
 duced into this part of the legislation of the republic of 
 Georgia. In 1818, a new law was passed, which, as will 
 be seen, contains a grand remedy for the abuses of the old. 
 In this it is provided, with endless variety of specifications 
 and synonyms, as if to " let suspicion double-lock the door " 
 against any possible evasion, that, " All, and every will, 
 testament, and deed, whether by way of trust or otherwise, 
 contract, or agreement, or stipulation, or other instrument 
 in writing or by parol, made and executed for the purpose 
 of effecting, or endeavoring to effect, the manumission of 
 any slave or slaves, either directly ... or indirectly, or 
 virtually, etc., etc., shall be, and the same are hereby, de 
 clared to be utterly null and void." And the guilty author 
 of the outrage against the peace of the State, contemplated 
 in such deed, etc., etc., " and all and every person or persons 
 
 1 Stroud s Sketch, p. 48. 
 
 2 Stroud, 147. Prince s Dig. 456. James s Dig. 398. Toulmin s Dig. 
 632. Miss. Rev. Code, 386. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 355 
 
 concerned in giving or attempting to give effect thereto, 
 ... in any way or manner whatsoever, shall be severally 
 liable to a penalty not exceeding one thousand dollars." 
 
 It would be quite anomalous in slave law, and contrary 
 to the " great and fundamental policy " of slave States, if 
 the negroes who, not having the fear of God before their 
 eyes, but being instigated by the devil, should be guilty 
 of being thus manumitted, were suffered to go unpunished ; 
 accordingly, the law very properly and judiciously provides 
 that " each and every slave or slaves in whose behalf such 
 will and testament, etc., etc., etc., shall have been made, 
 shall be liable to be arrested by warrant, etc. ; and, being 
 thereof convicted, etc., shall be liable to be sold as a slave 
 or slaves by public outcry ; and the proceeds of such slaves 
 shall be appropriated, etc., etc." l 
 
 Judge Stroud gives the following account of the law of 
 Mississippi : 
 
 " The emancipation must be by an instrument in writing, a last 
 will or deed, etc., under seal, attested by at least two credible wit 
 nesses, or acknowledged in the court of the county or corporation 
 where the emancipator resides ; proof satisfactory to the General 
 Assembly must be adduced that the slave has done some merito 
 rious act for the benefit of his master, or rendered some distinguished 
 service to the State ; all which circumstances are but prerequisites, 
 and are of no efficacy until a special act of Assembly sanctions 
 the emancipation ; to which may be added, as has been already 
 stated, a saving of the rights of creditors, and the protection of 
 the widow s thirds." 2 
 
 The same prerequisite of " meritorious services, to be 
 adjudged of and allowed by the county court," is exacted 
 by an act of the General Assembly of North Carolina ; and 
 all slaves emancipated contrary to the provisions of this act 
 are to be committed to the jail of the county, and at the 
 next court held for that county are to be sold to the highest 
 bidder. 
 
 1 Stroud s Sketch, pp. 147, 148. Prince s Dig. 466. 
 
 2 Stroud, p. 149. Miss. Rev. Code, 385, 086 (Act June 18, 1822). 
 
356 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 But the law of North Carolina does not refuse opportu 
 nity for repentance, even after the crime has been proved : 
 accordingly, 
 
 " The sheriff is directed, five days before the time for the 
 sale of the emancipated negro, to give notice, in writing, to the 
 person by whom the emancipation was made, to the end," l 
 
 and with the hope that, smitten by remorse of conscience, 
 and brought to a sense of his guilt before God and man, 
 
 " such person may, if he thinks proper, renew his claim to the 
 negro so emancipated by him ; on failure to do which, the 
 sale is to be made by the sheriff, and one fifth part of the net 
 proceeds is to become the property of the freeholder by whom 
 the apprehension was made, and the remaining four fifths are 
 to be paid into the public treasury." 
 
 It is proper to add that we have given examples of the 
 laws of States whose legislation on this subject has been 
 most severe. The laws of Virginia, Maryland, Missouri, 
 Kentucky, and Louisiana are much less stringent. 2 
 
 Nothing more forcibly shows the absolute despotism of 
 the slave law over all the kindest feelings and intentions 
 of the master, and the determination of courts to carry these 
 severities to their full lengths, than this cruel deed, which 
 precipitated a young man who had been educated to con 
 sider himself free, and his mother, an educated woman, 
 back into the bottomless abyss of slavery. Had this case 
 been chosen for the theme of a novel, or a tragedy, the world 
 would have cried out upon it as a plot of monstrous improb 
 ability. As it stands in the law-book, it is only a speci 
 men of that awful kind of truth, stranger than fiction, which 
 is all the time evolving, in one form or another, from the 
 workings of this anomalous system. 
 
 This view of the subject is a very important one, and 
 
 1 Stroud s Sketch, p. 148. Haywood s Manual, 525, 526, 529, 537. 
 
 2 Stroud, pp. 148-154. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 357 
 
 ought to be earnestly and gravely pondered by those in for 
 eign countries, who are too apt to fasten their condemnation 
 and opprobrium rather on the person of the slave-holder 
 than on the horrors of the legal system. In some slave 
 States it seems as if there was very little that the benevolent 
 owner could do which should permanently benefit his slave, 
 unless he should seek to alter the laws. Here it is that 
 the highest obligation of the Southern Christian lies. Nor 
 will the world or God hold them guiltless who, with the 
 elective franchise in their hands, and the full power to 
 speak, write, and discuss, suffer this monstrous system of 
 legalized cruelty to go on from age to age. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE HEBREW SLAVE LAW COMPARED WITH THE AMERI 
 CAN SLAVE LAW. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 SLAVERY IS DESPOTISM 
 
 It is always important, in discussing a thing, to keep 
 before our minds exactly what it is. 
 
 The only means of understanding precisely \vhat a civil 
 institution is, is an examination of the laws which regulate 
 it. In different ages and nations, very different things 
 have been called by the name of slavery. Patriarchal ser 
 vitude was one thing, Hebrew servitude was another, Greek 
 and Roman servitude still a third ; and these institutions 
 differed very much from each other. What, then, is Ameri 
 can slavery, as we have seen it exhibited by law, and by 
 the decisions of courts ? 
 
358 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Let us begin by stating what it is not. 
 
 1. It is not apprenticeship. 
 
 2. It is not guardianship. 
 
 3. It is in no sense a system for the education of a 
 weaker race by a stronger. 
 
 4. The happiness of the governed is in no sense its 
 object. 
 
 5. The temporal improvement or the eternal well-being 
 of the governed is in no sense its object. 
 
 The object of it has been distinctly stated in one sentence, 
 by Judge Ruffin, " The end is the profit of the master, 
 his security, and the public safety." 
 
 Slavery, then, is absolute despotism, of the most unmiti 
 gated form. 
 
 It would, however, be doing injustice to the absolutism 
 of any civilized country to liken American slavery to it. 
 The absolute governments of Europe none of them pretend 
 to be founded on a property right of the governor to the 
 persons and entire capabilities of the governed. 
 
 This is a form of despotism which exists only in some of 
 the most savage countries of the world ; as, for example, in 
 Dahomey. 
 
 The European absolutism or despotism, now, does, to 
 some extent, recognize the happiness and welfare of the 
 governed as the foundation of government ; and the ruler 
 is considered as invested with power for the benefit of the 
 people ; and his right to rule is supposed to be in some 
 what predicated upon the idea that he better understands 
 how to promote the good of the people than they them 
 selves do. No government in the civilized world now 
 presents the pure despotic idea, as it existed in the old days 
 of the Persian and Assyrian rule. 
 
 The arguments which defend slavery must be substantially 
 the same as those which defend despotism of any other 
 kind ; and the objections which are to be urged against it 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 359 
 
 are precisely those which can be urged against despotism of 
 any other kind. The customs and practices to which it 
 gives rise are precisely those to which despotisms in all ages 
 have given rise. 
 
 Is the slave suspected of a crime ? His master has the 
 power to examine him by torture (see State v. Castleman). 
 His master has, in fact, in most cases, the power of life and 
 death, owing to the exclusion of the slave s evidence. He 
 has the power of banishing the slave, at any time, and with 
 out giving an account to anybody, to an exile as dreadful 
 as that of Siberia, and to labors as severe as those of the 
 galleys. He has also unlimited power over the character of 
 his slave. He can accuse him of any crime, yet withhold 
 from him all right of trial or investigation, and sell him 
 into captivity, with his name blackened by an unexamined 
 imputation. 
 
 These are all abuses for which despotic governments are 
 blamed. They are powers which good men who are des 
 potic rulers are beginning to disuse ; but under the flag of 
 every slave-holding State, and under the flag of the whole 
 United States in the District of Columbia, they are com 
 mitted indiscriminately to men of any character. 
 
 But the worst kind of despotism has been said to be that 
 which extends alike over the body and over the soul; 
 which can bind the liberty of the conscience, and deprive a 
 man of all right of choice in respect to the manner in which 
 he shall learn the will of God, and worship Him. In other 
 days, kings on their thrones, and cottagers by their firesides, 
 alike trembled before a despotism which declared itself able 
 to bind and to loose, to open and to shut the kingdom of 
 heaven. 
 
 Yet this power to control the conscience, to control the 
 religious privileges, and all the opportunities which man 
 has of acquaintanceship with his Maker, and of learning 
 to do his will, is, under the flag of every slave State, and 
 
360 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 under the flag of the United States, placed in the hands of 
 any men, of any character, who can afford to pay for it. 
 
 It is a most awful and most solemn truth that the great 
 est republic in the world does sustain under her national 
 flag the worst system of despotism which can possibly exist. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 361 
 
 PART III 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 DOES PUBLIC OPINION PROTECT THE SLAVE? 
 
 THE utter inefficiency of the law to protect the slave in 
 any respect has been shown. But it is claimed that, pre 
 cisely because the law affords the slave no protection, there 
 fore public opinion is the more strenuous in his behalf. 
 
 Nothing more frequently strikes the eye, in running over 
 judicial proceedings in the courts of slave States, than an 
 nouncements of the utter inutility of the law to rectify some 
 glaring injustice towards this unhappy race, coupled with 
 congratulatory remarks on that beneficent state of public 
 sentiment which is to supply entirely this acknowledged 
 deficiency of the law. 
 
 On this point it may, perhaps, be sufficient to ask the 
 reader, whether North or South, to review in his own mind 
 the judicial documents which we have presented, and ask 
 himself what inference is to be drawn, as to the state of 
 public sentiment, from the cases there presented, from 
 the pleas of lawyers, the decisions of judges, the facts sworn 
 to by witnesses, and the general style and spirit of the whole 
 proceedings. 
 
 In order to appreciate this more fully, let us compare a 
 trial in a free State with a trial in a slave State. 
 
 In the free State of Massachusetts, a man of standing, 
 learning, and high connections murdered another man. He 
 did not torture him, but with one blow sent him in a moment 
 from life. The murderer had every advantage of position, 
 of friends ; it may be said, indeed, that he had the sympathy 
 
362 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 of the whole United States ; yet how calmly, with what 
 unmoved and awful composure, did the judicial examination 
 proceed ! The murderer was condemned to die what a 
 sensation shook the country ! Even sovereign States as 
 sumed the attitude of petitioners for him. 
 
 There was a voice of entreaty, from Maine to New Or 
 leans. There were remonstrances, and there were threats ; 
 but still, with what passionless calmness retributive justice 
 held on its way ! Though the men who were her instru 
 ments were men of merciful and bleeding hearts, yet they 
 bowed in silence to her sublime will. In spite of all that 
 influence, and wealth, and power could do, a cultivated and 
 intelligent man, from the first rank of society, suffered the 
 same penalty that would fall on any other man who violated 
 the sanctity of human life. 
 
 Now, compare this with a trial in a slave State. In 
 Virginia, Souther also murdered a man ; but he did not 
 murder him by one merciful blow, but by twelve hours of 
 torture so horrible that few readers could bear even the 
 description of it. It was a mode of death which, to use the 
 language that Cicero in his day applied to crucifixion, " ought 
 to be forever removed from the sight, hearing, and from the 
 very thoughts of mankind. 7 And to this horrible scene 
 two white men were WITNESSES ! 
 
 Observe the mode in which these two cases were tried, 
 and the general sensation they produced. Hear the lawyers, 
 in this case of Souther, coolly debating whether it can be 
 considered any crime at all. Hear the decision of the in 
 ferior court, that it is murder in the second degree, and ap 
 portioning as its reward five years of imprisonment. See the 
 horrible butcher coming up to the Superior Court in the 
 attitude of an injured man ! See the case recorded as that 
 of Souther VERSUS The Commonwealth, and let us ask any 
 intelligent man, North or South, what sort of public senti 
 ment does this show ! 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 363 
 
 Does it show a belief that the negro is a man ? Does it 
 not show decidedly that he is not considered as a man ? 
 Consider further the horrible principle which,, reaffirmed 
 in the case, is the law of the land in Virginia. It is the 
 policy of the law, in respect to the relation of master 
 and slave, and for the sake of securing proper subordina 
 tion on the part of the slave, to protect the master from 
 prosecution in all such cases, even if the whipping and 
 punishment be malicious, cruel, and excessive ! 
 
 When the most cultivated and intelligent men in the 
 State formally, calmly, and without any apparent percep 
 tion of saying anything inhuman, utter such an astounding 
 decision as this, what can be thought of it ? If they do not 
 consider this cruel, what is cruel ? And if their feelings 
 are so blunted as to see no cruelty in such a decision, what 
 hope is there of any protection to the slave ? 
 
 This law is a plain and distinct permission to such wretches 
 as Souther to inflict upon the helpless slave any torture they 
 may choose, without any accusation or impeachment of crime. 
 It distinctly tells Souther, and the white witnesses who saw 
 his deed, and every other low, unprincipled man in the 
 court, that it is the policy of the law to protect him in mali 
 cious, cruel, and excessive punishments. 
 
 What sort of an education is this for the intelligent and 
 cultivated men of a State to communicate to the lower and 
 less-educated class ? Suppose it to be solemnly announced 
 in Massachusetts, with respect to free laborers or apprentices, 
 that it is the policy of the law, for the sake of producing 
 subordination, to protect the master in inflicting any punish 
 ment, however cruel, malicious, and excessive, short of death. 
 We cannot imagine such a principle declared, without a 
 rebellion and a storm of popular excitement to which that of 
 Bunker Hill was calmness itself ; but supposing the State 
 of Massachusetts were so " twice dead and plucked up by the 
 roots" as to allow such a decision to pass without comment 
 
364 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 concerning her working classes, suppose it did pass, and 
 become an active, operative reality, what kind of an educa 
 tional influence would it exert upon the commonwealth ? 
 What kind of an estimate of the working classes would it 
 show in the minds of those who make and execute the law ? 
 
 What an immediate development of villainy and brutality 
 would be brought out by such a law, avowedly made to pro 
 tect men in cruelty ! Cannot men be cruel enough, with 
 out all the majesty of law being brought into operation to 
 sanction it, and make it reputable ? 
 
 And suppose it were said, in vindication of such a law, 
 " Oh, of course, no respectable, humane man would ever 
 think of taking advantage of it." Should we not think the 
 old State of Massachusetts sunk very low, to have on her 
 legal records direct assurances of protection to deeds which 
 no decent man would ever do ? 
 
 The whole American nation is, in some sense, under a 
 paralysis of public sentiment on this subject. It was said 
 by a heathen writer that the gods gave us a fearful power 
 when they gave us the faculty of becoming accustomed to 
 things. This power has proved a fearful one indeed in 
 America. We have got used to things which might stir 
 the dead in their graves. 
 
 When but a small portion of the things daily done in 
 America has been told in England, and France, and Italy, 
 and Germany, there has been a perfect shriek and outcry 
 of horror. America alone remains cool, and asks, " What 
 is the matter ? " 
 
 Europe answers back, "Why, we have heard that men 
 are sold like cattle in your country." 
 
 " Of course they are," says America ; " but what then ? " 
 
 " We have heard," says Europe, " that millions of men 
 are forbidden to read or write in your country." 
 
 " We know that," says America ; " but what is this out 
 cry about ? " 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 365 
 
 " We have heard," says Europe, " that Christian girls are 
 sold to shame in your markets ! " 
 
 " That isn t quite as it should be/ says America ; "but 
 still, what is this excitement about ? " 
 
 " We hear that three millions of your people can have 
 no legal marriage ties," says Europe. 
 
 " Certainly that is true," returns America ; " but you 
 made such an outcry, we thought you saw some great cruelty 
 going on." 
 
 " And you profess to be a free country ! " says indignant 
 Europe. 
 
 " Certainly we are the freest and most enlightened 
 country in the world, what are you talking about ? " 
 says America. 
 
 "You send your missionaries to Christianize us," says 
 Turkey ; " and our religion has abolished this horrible 
 system." 
 
 " You ! you are all heathen over there, what business 
 have you to talk ? " answers America. 
 
 Many people seem really to have thought that nothing 
 but horrible exaggerations of the system of slavery could 
 have produced the sensation which has recently been felt in 
 all modern Europe. They do not know that the thing they 
 have become accustomed to, and handled so freely in every 
 discussion, seems to all other nations the sum and essence 
 of villainy. Modern Europe, opening her eyes and looking 
 on the legal theory of the slave system, on the laws and 
 interpretations of law which define it, says to America, in 
 the language of the indignant Othello, If thou wilt justify 
 a thing like this, 
 
 " Never pray more ; abandon all remorse ; 
 On Horror s head horrors accumulate ; 
 Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed ; 
 For nothing canst thou to damnation add 
 Greater than this." 
 
366 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 PUBLIC OPINION FORMED BY EDUCATION 
 
 Let us now inquire what are the educational influences 
 which bear upon the mind educated in constant familiarity 
 with the slave system. 
 
 Take any child of ingenuous mind and of generous heart, 
 and educate him under the influences of slavery, and what 
 are the things which go to form his character ? An an 
 ecdote which a lady related to the writer may be in point 
 in this place. In giving an account of some of the things 
 which induced her to remove her family from under the 
 influence of slavery, she related the following incident : 
 Looking out of her nursery window one day, she saw her 
 daughter, about three years of age, seated in her little car 
 riage, with six or eight young negro children harnessed into 
 it for horses. Two or three of the older slaves were stand 
 ing around their little mistress, and one of them, putting a 
 whip into her hand, said, " There, Misse, whip em well ; 
 make 7 em go they re all your niggers." 
 
 What a moral and religious lesson was this for that young 
 soul ! The mother was a judicious woman, who never 
 would herself have taught such a thing ; but the whole 
 influence of slave society had burnt it into the soul of every 
 negro, and through them it was communicated to the child. 
 
 As soon as a child is old enough to read the newspapers, 
 he sees in every column such notices as the following from 
 a late " Richmond Whig." 
 
 LARGE SALE OF NEGROES, HORSES, MULES, CATTLE, ETC. 
 
 The subscriber, under a decree of the Circuit Superior Court 
 for Fluvanna County, will proceed to sell, by public auction, 
 at the late residence of William Gait, deceased, on TUESDAY, 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 367 
 
 the 30th day of November, and WEDNESDAY, the 1st day of 
 December next, beginning at 11 o clock, the negroes, stock, etc., 
 of all kinds, belonging to the estate, consisting of 175 negroes, 
 amongst whom are SOME CARPENTERS AND BLACKSMITHS, 10 
 horses, 33 mules, 100 head of cattle, 100 sheep, 200 hogs, 1500 
 barrels corn, oats, fodder, etc., the plantation and shop tools of 
 all kinds. 
 
 The Negroes will be sold for cash ; the other property on a 
 credit of nine months, the purchaser giving bond, with approved 
 security. 
 
 JAMES GALT, Administrator of 
 William Gait, deceased. 
 
 Oct. 19. 
 
 We have spoken now of only the common advertisements 
 of the paper ; but suppose the child to live in some districts 
 of the country, and advertisements of a still more degrading 
 character meet his eye. In the State of Alabama, a news 
 paper devoted to politics, literature, and EDUCATION has a 
 standing weekly advertisement of which this is a copy : 
 
 NOTICE. 
 
 The undersigned having an excellent pack 
 of HOUNDS, for trailing and catching runaway 
 slaves, informs the public that his prices in future will 
 be as follows for such services : 
 
 For each day employed in hunting or trailing . . . . $2.50 
 
 For catching each slave 10.00 
 
 For going over ten miles, and catching slaves .... 20.00 
 
 If sent for, the above prices will be exacted in cash. The 
 subscriber resides one mile and a half south of Dadeville, Ala. 
 
 B. BLACK. 
 
 Dadeville, Sept. 1, 1852. 1-tf 
 
 The reader will see, by the printer s sign at the bottom, 
 that it is a season advertisement, and, therefore, would meet 
 the eye of the child week after week. The paper from 
 \vhich we have cut this contains among its extracts passages 
 from Dickens s " Household Words," from Prof essor Eelton s 
 
368 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 article in the " Christian Examiner " on the relation of the 
 sexes, and a most beautiful and chivalrous appeal from the 
 eloquent Senator Soule on the legal rights of women. Let 
 us now ask, since this paper is devoted to education, what 
 sort of an educational influence such advertisements have. 
 And, of course, such an establishment is not kept up with 
 out patronage. Where there are negro-hunters advertising 
 in a paper, there are also negro-hunts, and there are dogs be 
 ing trained to hunt ; and all this process goes on before the 
 eyes of children ; and what sort of an education is it ? 
 
 The writer has received an account of the way in which 
 dogs are trained for this business. The information has 
 been communicated to the gentleman who writes it by a 
 negro man, who, having been always accustomed to see it 
 done, described it with as little sense of there being any 
 thing out of the way in it as if the dogs had been trained 
 to catch raccoons. It came to the writer in a recent letter 
 from the South. 
 
 " The way to train em [says the man] is to take these yer 
 pups any kind o pups will do, fox-hounds, bull-dogs, most 
 any ; but take the pups, and keep em shut up, and don t let 
 em never see a nigger till they get big enough to be larned. 
 When the pups gits old enough to be set on to things, then 
 make em run after a nigger ; and when they cotches him, give 
 em meat. Tell the nigger to run as hard as he can, and git up 
 in a tree, so as to larn the dogs to tree em ; then take the shoe 
 of a nigger, and larn em to find the nigger it belongs to ; then 
 a rag of his clothes ; and so on. Allers be earful to tree the 
 nigger, and teach the dog to wait and bark under the tree till 
 you come up and give him his meat." 
 
 See also the following advertisement from the " Ouachita 
 Register," a newspaper dated " Monroe, La., Tuesday even 
 ing, June 1, 1852." 
 
 NEGRO DOGS. 
 
 The undersigned would respectfully inform the citizens of 
 Ouachita and adjacent parishes, that he has located about 2^ 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 369 
 
 miles east of John White s, 011 the road leading from Monroe 
 to Bastrop, and that he has a fine pack of Dogs for catching 
 negroes. Persons wishing negroes caught will do well to give 
 him a call. He can always be found at his stand when not 
 engaged in hunting, and even then information of his where 
 abouts can always be had of some one on the premises. 
 
 Terms. Five dollars per day and found, when there is no 
 track pointed out. When the track is shown, twenty-five dol 
 lars will be charged for catching the negro. 
 
 M. C. GOFF. 
 Monroe, Feb. 17, 1852. 15-3m 
 
 Now, do not all the scenes likely to be enacted under 
 this head form a fine education for the children of a Chris 
 tian nation ? and can we wonder if children so formed see 
 no cruelty in slavery ? Can children realize that creatures 
 who are thus hunted are children of one heavenly Father 
 with themselves ? 
 
 But suppose the boy grows up to be a man, and attends 
 the courts of justice, and hears intelligent, learned men de 
 claring from the bench that " the mere beating of a slave, 
 unaccompanied by any circumstances of cruelty, or an 
 attempt to kill, is no breach of the peace of the State." 
 Suppose he hears it decided in the same place that no 
 insult or outrage upon any slave is considered worthy 
 of legal redress, unless it impairs his property value. 
 Suppose he hears, as he would in Virginia, that it is the 
 policy of the law to protect the master even in inflicting 
 cruel, malicious, and excessive punishment upon the slave. 
 Suppose a slave is murdered, and he hears the lawyers ar 
 guing that it cannot be considered a murder, because the 
 slave, in law, is not considered a human being ; and then 
 suppose the case is appealed to a superior court, and he 
 hears the judge expending his forces on a long and eloquent 
 dissertation to prove that the slave is a human being ; at 
 least, that he is as much so as a lunatic, an idiot, or an 
 unborn child, and that, therefore, he can be murdered. 
 
370 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Suppose he sees that all the administration of law with 
 regard to the slave proceeds on the idea that he is abso 
 lutely nothing more than a bale of merchandise. Suppose 
 he hears such language as this, which occurs in the reason 
 ings of the Brazealle case, and which is a fair sample of the 
 manner in which such subjects are ordinarily discussed. 
 " The slave has no more political capacity, no more right to 
 purchase, hold, or transfer property, than the mule in his 
 plough ; he is in himself but a mere chattel, the subject 
 of absolute ownership." Suppose he sees on the statue-book 
 such sentences as these, from the civil code of Louisiana : 
 
 Art. 2500. The latent defects of slaves and animals are di 
 vided into two classes, vices of body and vices of character. 
 
 Art. 2501. The vices of body are distinguished into absolute 
 and relative. 
 
 Art. 2502. The absolute vices of slaves are leprosy, madness, 
 and epilepsy. 
 
 Art. 2503. The absolute vices of horses and mules are short 
 wind, glanders, and founder. 
 
 The influence of this language is made all the stronger 
 on the young mind from the fact that it is not the lan 
 guage of contempt, or of passion, but calm, matter-of-fact, 
 legal statement. 
 
 What effect must be produced on the mind of the young 
 man when he comes to see that, however atrocious and how 
 ever well-proved be the murder of a slave, the murderer uni 
 formly escapes ; and that, though the cases where the slave 
 has fallen a victim to passions of the white are so multi 
 plied, yet the fact of an execution for such a crime is yet 
 almost unknown in the country ? Does not all this tend 
 to produce exactly that estimate of the value of negro life 
 and happiness which Frederic Douglass says was expressed 
 by a common proverb among the white boys where he was 
 brought up : " It s worth sixpence to kill a nigger, and six 
 pence more to bury him" ? 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 371 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 SEPARATION OF FAMILIES 
 
 "What must the difference be," said Dr. Worthington, with startling 
 energy, " between Isabel and her servants ! To her it is loss of position, 
 fortune, the fair hopes of life, perhaps even health ; for she must inevita- 
 blv break down under the unaccustomed labor and privations she will 
 have to undergo. But to them it is merely a change of masters ! " 
 
 "Yes, for the neighbors won t allow any of the families to be sepa 
 rated." 
 
 " Of course not. We read of such things in novels sometimes. But I 
 have yet to see it in real life, except in rare cases, or where the slave has 
 been guilty of some misdemeanor, or crime, for which, in the North, he 
 would have been imprisoned, perhaps for life." Cabin and Parlor, by 
 J. THORNTON RANDOLPH, p. 39. 
 
 "But they re going to sell us all to Georgia, I say. How are we to 
 escape that?" 
 
 "Spec dare some mistake in dat," replied Uncle Peter stoutly. "I 
 nebber knew of sich a ting in dese parts, cept where some niggar d been 
 berry bad." Ibid. 
 
 By such graphic touches as the ahove does Mr. Thorn 
 ton Randolph represent to us the patriarchal stability and 
 security of the slave population in the Old Dominion. 
 Such a thing as a slave being sold out of the State has 
 never been heard of by Dr. Worthington, except in rare 
 cases for some crime ; and old Uncle Peter never heard of 
 such a thing in his life. 
 
 Are these representations true ? 
 
 The worst abuse of the system of slavery is its outrage 
 upon the family ; and, as the writer views the subject, it is 
 one which is more -notorious and undeniable than any other. 
 
 Yet it is upon this point that the most stringent and 
 earnest denial has been made to the representations of 
 " Uncle Tom s Cabin," either indirectly, as by the romance- 
 writer above, or more directly in the assertions of news 
 papers, both at the North and at the South. When made 
 at the North, they indicate, to say the least, very great 
 
372 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 ignorance of the subject ; when made at the South, they 
 certainly do very great injustice to the general character of 
 the Southerner for truth and honesty. All sections of 
 country have faults peculiar to themselves. The fault of 
 the South, as a general thing, has not been cowardly evasion 
 and deception. It was with utter surprise that the author 
 read the following sentences in an article in "Eraser s 
 Magazine," professing to come from a South Carolinian. 
 
 " Mrs. Stowe s favorite illustration of the master s power to 
 the injury of the slave is the separation of families. We are 
 told of infants of ten months old being sold from the arms of 
 their mothers, and of men whose habit it is to raise children to 
 sell away from their mother as soon as they are old enough 
 to be separated. Were our views of this feature of slavery 
 derived from Mrs. Stowe s book, we should regard the families 
 of slaves as utterly unsettled and vagrant." 
 
 And again : 
 
 " We feel confident that, if statistics could be had to throw 
 light upon this subject, we should find that there is less sepa 
 ration of families among the negroes than occurs with almost 
 any other class of persons." 
 
 As the author of this article, however, is evidently a 
 man of honor, and expresses many most noble and praise 
 worthy sentiments, it cannot be supposed that these state 
 ments were put forth with any view to misrepresent, or to 
 deceive. They are only to be regarded as evidences of the 
 facility with which a sanguine mind often overlooks the 
 most glaring facts that make against a favorite idea or 
 theory, or which are unfavorable in their bearings on one s 
 own country or family. Thus the citizens of some place 
 notoriously unhealthy will come to believe, and assert, with 
 the utmost sincerity, that there is actually less sickness in 
 their town than any other of its size in the known world. 
 Thus parents often think their children perfectly immacu 
 late in just those particulars in which others see them to 
 be most faulty. This solution of the phenomena is a natural 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 373 
 
 and amiable one, and enables us to retain our respect for 
 our Southern brethren. 
 
 There is another circumstance, also, to be taken into 
 account, in reading such assertions as these. It is evident, 
 from the pamphlet in question, that the writer is one of the 
 few who regard the possession of absolute irresponsible 
 power as the highest of motives to moderation and temper 
 ance in its use. Such men are commonly associated in 
 friendship and family connection with others of similar 
 views, and are very apt to fall into the error of judging 
 others by themselves, and thinking that a thing may do for 
 all the world because it operates well in their immediate 
 circle. Also it cannot but be a fact that the various cir 
 cumstances which from infancy conspire to degrade and 
 depress the negro in the eyes of a Southern-born man, 
 the constant habit of speaking of them, and hearing them 
 spoken of, and seeing them advertised, as mere articles of 
 property, often in connection with horses, mules, fodder, 
 swine, etc., as they are almost daily in every Southern 
 paper, must tend, even in the best-constituted minds, to 
 produce a certain obtuseness with regard to the interests, 
 sufferings, and affections of such as do not particularly 
 belong to himself, which will peculiarly unfit him for esti 
 mating their condition. The author has often been singu 
 larly struck with this fact, in the letters of Southern friends ; 
 in which, upon one page, they will make some assertion 
 regarding the condition of Southern negroes, and then go 
 on, and in other connections state facts which apparently 
 contradict them all. We can all be aware how this famil 
 iarity would operate with ourselves. Were we called upon 
 to state how often our neighbors cows were separated from 
 their calves, or how often their household furniture and 
 other effects are scattered and dispersed by executors sales, 
 we should be inclined to say that it was not a misfortune of 
 very common occurrence. 
 
374 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 But let us open two South Carolina papers, published 
 in the very State where this gentleman is residing, and 
 read the advertisements FOB ONE WEEK. The author has 
 slightly abridged them. 
 
 COMMISSIONER S SALE OF 12 LIKELY NEGROES. 
 FAIKFIELD DISTRICT. 
 
 R. W. Murray and wife and 
 others 
 
 v. }- In Equity. 
 
 William Wright and wife 
 
 and others. 
 
 In pursuance of an Order of the Court of Equity made in 
 the above case at July Term, 1852, I will sell at public outcry, 
 to the highest bidder, before the Court House in Winnsboro, 
 on the first Monday in January next, 
 
 12 VERY LIKELY NEGROES, 
 
 belonging to the estate of Micajah Mobley, deceased, late of 
 Fairfield District. 
 
 These Negroes consist chiefly of young boys and girls, and 
 are said to be very likely. 
 Terms of Sale, etc. 
 
 W. R. ROBERTSON, 
 
 C. E. F. D. 
 
 Commissioner s Office, ) 
 Winnsboro, Nov. 30, 1852. j 
 
 Dec. 2 42 x4. 
 
 [Eighteen similar advertisements follow.] 
 
 Now, it is scarcely possible that a person who has been 
 accustomed to see such advertisements from boyhood, and 
 to pass them over with as much indifference as we pass 
 over advertisements of sofas and chairs for sale, could 
 possibly receive the shock from them which one wholly 
 unaccustomed to such a mode of considering and disposing 
 of human beings would receive. They make no impression 
 upon him. His own family servants, and those of his 
 friends, are not in the market, and he does not realize that 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM*S CABIN 375 
 
 0ny are. Under the advertisements, a hundred such scenes 
 as those described in " Uncle Tom" may have been acting 
 in his very vicinity. 
 
 These papers of South Carolina are not exceptional ones ; 
 they may be matched by hundreds of papers from any other 
 State. 
 
 Let the reader now stop one minute, and look over again 
 these two weeks advertisements. This is not novel- 
 writing this is fact. See these human beings tumbled 
 promiscuously out before the public with horses, mules, 
 second-hand buggies, cotton-seed, bedsteads, etc., etc. ; and 
 Christian ladies, in the same newspaper, saying that they 
 prayerfully study God s word, and believe their institutions 
 have his sanction ! Does he suppose that here, in these 
 two weeks, there have been no scenes of suffering ? Ima 
 gine the distress of these families the nights of anxiety 
 of these mothers and children, wives and husbands, when 
 these sales are about to take place ! Imagine the scenes of 
 the sales ! A young lady, a friend of the writer, who 
 spent a winter in Carolina, described to her the sale of a 
 woman and her children. When the little girl, seven 
 years of age, was put on the block, she fell into spasms 
 Avith fear and excitement. She was taken off recovered 
 and put back the spasms came back three times the 
 experiment was tried, and at last the sale of the child was 
 deferred ! 
 
 But let us still further reason upon the testimony of 
 advertisements. What is to be understood by the fol 
 lowing, of the " Memphis Eagle and Inquirer," Saturday, 
 November 13, 1852 ? Under the editorial motto, " Liberty 
 and Union, now and forever," come the following illustra 
 tions : 
 
376 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 NO. I. 
 NEGROES. 
 
 I have just received from the East 75 assorted A No. 1 
 negroes. Call soon, if you want to get the first choice. 
 
 BENJ. LITTLE. 
 
 NO. II. 
 CASH FOR NEGROES. 
 
 I will pay as high cash prices for a few likely young 
 negroes as any trader in this city. Also, will receive and 
 sell on commission at Byrd Hill s, old stand, on Adams- 
 street, Memphis. BENJ. LITTLE. 
 
 NO. III. 
 500 NEGROES WANTED. 
 
 We will pay the highest cash price for all good 
 negroes offered. We invite all those having ne 
 groes for sale to call on us at our Mart, opposite 
 the lower steamboat landing. We will also have a large lot 
 of Virginia negroes for sale in the Fall. We have as safe a jail 
 as any in the country, where we can keep negroes safe for those 
 that wish them kept. BOLTON, DICKINS & Co. 
 
 Under the head of advertisement No. 1, let us humbly 
 inquire what " assorted A No. 1 Negroes " means. Is it 
 likely that it means negroes sold in families ? What is 
 meant by the invitation, " Call soon if you want to get the 
 first choice " ? 
 
 So much for Advertisement No. 1. Let us now pro 
 pound a few questions to the initiated on No. 2. What 
 does Mr. Benjamin Little mean by saying that he " will 
 pay as liigli a, cash price, for a few likely young negroes as 
 any trader in the city " ? Do families commonly consist 
 exclusively of " likely young negroes" ? 
 
 On the third advertisement we are also desirous of some 
 information. Messrs. BOLTON, DICKTNS & Co. state that 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 377 
 
 they expect to receive a large lot of Virginia negroes in 
 the fall. 
 
 Unfortunate Messrs. Bolton, Dickins & Co. ! Do you 
 suppose that Virginia families will sell their negroes ? 
 Have you read Mr. J. Thornton Randolph s last novel, and 
 have you not learned that old Virginia families never sell 
 to traders ? and, more than that, that they always club 
 together and buy up the negroes that are for sale in their 
 neighborhood, and the traders when they appear on the 
 ground are hustled off with very little ceremony ? One 
 would really think that you had got your impressions on 
 the subject from " Uncle Tom s Cabin." For we are told 
 that all who derive their views of slavery from this book 
 "regard the families of slaves as utterly unsettled and 
 vagrant." 1 
 
 But, before we recover from our astonishment on reading 
 this, we take up the "Natchez (Mississippi) Courier" of 
 November 20, 1852, and there read : 
 
 NEGROES. 
 
 The undersigned would respectfully state to the public 
 that he has leased the stand in the Forks of the Road, 
 near Natchez, for a term of years, and that he intends 
 to keep a large lot of NEGROES on hand during the year. 
 He will sell as low or lower than any other trader at this place 
 or in New Orleans. 
 
 He has just arrived from Virginia with a very likely lot of 
 Field Men and Women; also, House Servants, three Cooks, 
 and a Carpenter. Call and see. 
 
 A fine Buggy Horse, a Saddle Horse and a Carryall, on hand, 
 and for sale. THOS. G. JAMES. 
 
 Natchez, Sept. 28, 1852. 
 
 Where in the world did this lucky Mr. THOS. G. JAMES 
 get this likely Virginia " assortment " ? Probably in some 
 county which Mr. Thornton Randolph never visited. And 
 
 1 Article in Eraser s Magazine for October, by a South Carolinian. 
 
378 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 had no families been separated to form the assortment ? 
 We hear of a lot of field men and women. Where are their 
 children ? We hear of a lot of house-servants, of " three 
 cooks/ 7 and " one carpenter/ as well as a " fine buggy 
 horse. 7 Had these unfortunate cooks and carpenters no 
 relations ? Did no sad natural tears stream down their 
 dark cheeks, when they were being " assorted " for the 
 Natchez market ? Does no mournful heart among them 
 yearn to the song of 
 
 " Oh, carry me back to old Virginny " ? 
 Still f urther, we see in the same paper the following : 
 
 SLAVES ! SLAVES ! SLAVES ! 
 
 FRESH ARRIVALS WEEKLY. Having established our 
 selves at the Forks of the Road, near Natchez, for a term 
 of years, we have now on hand, and intend to keep 
 throughout the entire year, a large and well-selected stock of 
 Negroes, consisting of field-hands, house-servants, mechanics, 
 cooks, seamstresses, washers, ironers, etc., which we can and 
 will sell as low or lower than any other house here or in New 
 Orleans. 
 
 Persons wishing to purchase would do well to call on us 
 before making purchases elsewhere, as our regular arrivals 
 will keep us supplied with a good and general assortment. 
 Our terms are liberal. Give us a call. 
 
 GRIFFIN & PULLAM. 
 Natchez, Oct. 15, 1852.-6m. 
 "Free Trader" and "Concordia Intelligencer" copy as above. 
 
 Indeed ! Messrs. Griffin and Pullam, it seems, are 
 equally fortunate ! They are having fresh supplies weekly, 
 and are going to keep a large, well-selected stock constantly 
 on hand, to wit, " field-hands, house-servants, mechanics, 
 cooks, seamstresses, washers, ironers, etc." 
 
 Let us respectfully inquire what is the process by which 
 a trader acquires a well-selected stock. He goes to Virginia 
 to select. He has had orders, say, for one dozen cooks, for 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 379 
 
 half a dozen carpenters, for so many house-servants, etc., etc. 
 Each one of these individuals has his own ties ; besides 
 being cooks, carpenters, and house-servants, they are also 
 fathers, mothers, husbands, wives ; but what of that ? 
 They must be selected it is an assortment that is wanted. 
 The gentleman who has ordered a cook does not, of course, 
 want her five children ; and the planter who has ordered a 
 carpenter does not want the cook, his wife. A carpenter is 
 an expensive article, at any rate, as they cost from a thou 
 sand to fifteen hundred dollars ; and a man who has to 
 pay out this sum for him cannot always afford himself the 
 luxury of indulging his humanity ; and as to the children, 
 they must be left in the slave-raising State. For, when the 
 ready raised article is imported weekly into Natchez or New 
 Orleans, is it likely that the inhabitants will encumber 
 themselves with the labor of raising children ? No, there 
 must be division of labor in all well-ordered business. The 
 northern slave States raise the article, and the southern 
 ones consume it. 
 
 The extracts have been taken from the papers of the 
 more southern States. If, now, the reader has any curiosity 
 to explore the selecting process in the northern States, the 
 daily prints will further enlighten him. In the " Daily 
 Virginian" of November 19, 1852, Mr. J. B. McLendon 
 thus announces to the Old Dominion that he has settled 
 himself down to attend to the selecting process : 
 
 NEGROES WANTED. 
 
 The subscriber, having located in Lynchburg, is giving the 
 highest cash prices for negroes between the ages of 10 and 30 
 years. Those having negroes for sale may find it to their inter 
 est to call on him at the Washington Hotel, Lynchburg, or 
 address him by letter. 
 
 All communications will receive prompt attention. 
 
 J. B. McLENDON. 
 nov. 5-dly. 
 
380 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Mr. McLendon distinctly announces that he is not going 
 to take any children under ten years of age, nor any grown 
 people over thirty. Likely young negroes are what he is 
 after : families, of course, never separated ! 
 
 Again, in the same paper, Mr. Seth Woodroof is desirous 
 of keeping up the recollection in the community that he 
 also is in the market, as it would appear he has been, some 
 time past. He, likewise, wants negroes between ten and 
 thirty years of age ; but his views turn rather on mechan 
 ics, blacksmiths, and carpenters, witness his hand : 
 
 NEGROES WANTED. 
 
 The subscriber continues in market for Negroes, of both 
 sexes, between the ages of 10 and 30 years, including Mechanics, 
 such as Blacksmiths, Carpenters, and will pay the highest mar 
 ket prices in cash. His office is a newly erected brick building 
 on 1st or Lynch street, immediately in rear of the Farmers 
 Bank, where he is prepared (having erected buildings with that 
 view) to board negroes sent to Lynchburg for sale or other 
 wise on as moderate terms, and keep them as secure, as if they 
 were placed in the jail of the Corporation. 
 
 SETH WOODROOF. 
 aug. 26. 
 
 There is no manner of doubt that this Mr. Seth Wood- 
 roof is a gentleman of humanity, and wishes to avoid the 
 separation of families as much as possible. Doubtless he 
 ardently wishes that all his blacksmiths and carpenters 
 would be considerate, and never have any children under 
 ten years of age ; but, if the thoughtless dogs have got 
 them, what s a humane man to do ? He has to fill out 
 Mr. This, That, and the Other s order, that s a clear 
 case ; and therefore John and Sam must take their last 
 look at their babies, as Uncle Tom did of his when he 
 stood by the rough trundle-bed and dropped into it great, 
 useless tears. 
 
 Nay, my friends, don t curse poor Mr. Seth Woodroof, 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 381 
 
 because he does the horrible, loathsome work of tearing up 
 the living human heart, to make twine and shoestrings for 
 you ! It s disagreeable business enough, he will tell you, 
 sometimes ; and, if you must have him to do it for you, 
 treat him civilly, and don t pretend that you are any better 
 than he. 
 
 But the good trade is not confined to the Old Dominion, 
 by any means. See the following extract from a Tennes 
 see paper, the "Nashville Gazette," November 23, 1852, 
 where Mr. A. A. McLean, general agent in this kind of 
 business, thus makes known his wants and intentions : 
 
 WANTED. 
 
 I want to purchase immediately 25 likely NEGROES, 
 male and female, between the ages of 15 and 25 years; for 
 which I will pay the highest price in cash. 
 
 A. A. McLEAN, General Agent, 
 
 Cherry Street. 
 nov 9 
 
 Mr. McLean, it seems, only wants those between the 
 ages of fifteen and twenty-five. This advertisement is 
 twice repeated in the same paper, from which fact we may 
 conjecture that the gentleman is very much in earnest in 
 his wants, and entertains rather confident expectations that 
 somebody will be willing to sell. Further, the same gen 
 tleman states another want. 
 
 WANTED. 
 
 I want to purchase, immediately, a Negro man, Carpenter, 
 and will give a good price. 
 
 A. A. McLEAN, Geril Agent. 
 sept 29^ 
 
 Mr. McLean does not advertise for his wife and children, 
 or where this same carpenter is to be sent, whether to 
 the New Orleans market, or up the Eed River, or off to 
 some far bayou of the Mississippi, never to look upon wife 
 or child again. 
 
382 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 See, also, the following advertisement of the good State 
 of Alabama, which shows how the trade is thriving there. 
 Mr. S. K Brown, in the " Advertiser and Gazette," Mont 
 gomery, Alabama, holds forth as follows : 
 
 NEGROES FOR SALE. 
 
 S. N". BROWN takes this method of informing his old patrons, 
 and others waiting to purchase Slaves, that he has now on 
 hand, of his own selection and purchasing, a lot of likely 
 young Negroes, consisting of Men, Boys, and Women, Field 
 Hands, and superior House Servants, which he offers and will 
 sell as low as the times will warrant. Office on Market-street, 
 above the Montgomery Hall, at Lindsay s Old Stand, where he 
 intends to keep slaves for sale on his own account, and not on 
 commission, therefore thinks he can give satisfaction to those 
 who patronize him. 
 
 Montgomery, Ala., Sept. 13, 1852. twtf (J) 
 
 Where were these boys and girls of Mr. Brown selected, 
 let us ask. How did their fathers and mothers feel when 
 they were " selected " ? Ernmeline was taken out of one 
 family, and George out of another. The judicious trader 
 has traveled through wide regions of country, leaving in 
 his track wailing and anguish. A little incident, which 
 has recently been the rounds of the papers, may perhaps 
 illustrate some of the scenes he has occasioned : 
 
 INCIDENT OF SLAVERY. 
 
 A negro woman belonging to Geo. M. Garrison, of Polk Co., 
 killed four of her children, by cutting their throats while they 
 were asleep, on Thursday night, the 2d inst., and then put an 
 end to her own existence by cutting her throat. Her master 
 knows of no cause for the horrid act, unless it be that she heard 
 him speak of selling her and two of her children, and keeping 
 the others. 
 
 The uncertainty of the master in this case is edifying. 
 He knows that negroes cannot be expected to have the 
 feelings of cultivated people ; and yet, here is a case 
 where the creature really acts unaccountably, and he can t 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 383 
 
 think of any cause except that he was going to sell her from 
 her children. 
 
 But let us search the Southern papers, and see if we can 
 not find some evidence of that humanity which avoids the 
 separation of families, as far as possible. In the " Argus," 
 published at Weston, Missouri, November 5, 1852, see the 
 following : 
 
 A NEGRO FOR SALE. 
 
 I wish to sell a black girl about 24 years old, a good cook 
 and washer, handy with a needle, can spin and weave. I wish 
 to sell her in the neighborhood of Camden Point ; if not sold 
 there in a short time, I will hunt the best market ; or I will 
 trade her for two small ones, a boy and girl. 
 
 M. DOYAL. 
 
 Considerate Mr. Doyal ! He is opposed to the separation 
 of families, and, therefore, wishes to sell this woman in the 
 neighborhood of Camden Point, where her family ties are, 
 perhaps her husband and children, her brothers or sisters. 
 He will not separate her from her family if it is possible to 
 avoid it ; that is to say, if he can get as much for her with 
 out ; but, if he can t, he will " hunt the best market" 
 What more would you have of Mr. Doyal ? 
 
 How speeds the blessed trade in the State of Maryland ? 
 Let us take the " Baltimore Sun " of November 23, 
 1852. 
 
 Mr. J. S. Donovan thus advertises the Christian public 
 of the accommodations of his jail : 
 
 CASH FOR NEGROES. 
 
 The undersigned continues, at his old stand, No. 13 CAMDEN 
 ST., to pay the highest price for NEGROES. Persons bringing 
 Negroes by railroad or steamboat will find it very convenient 
 to secure their Negroes, as my Jail is adjoining the Railroad 
 Depot and near the Steamboat Landings. Negroes received for 
 safe keeping. J. S. DONOVAN. 
 
 Messrs. B. M. & W. L. Campbell, in the respectable old 
 stand of Slatter, advertise as follows : 
 
384 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 SLAVES WANTED. 
 
 We are at all times purchasing SLAVES, paying the highest 
 CASH prices. Persons wishing to sell will please call at 242 
 PRATT ST. (Slatter s old stand). Communications attended to. 
 
 B. M. & W. L. CAMPBELL. 
 
 In another column, however, Mr. John Denning has his 
 season advertisement, in terms which border on the sub 
 lime : 
 
 5000 NEGROES WANTED. 
 
 I will pay the highest prices, in cash, for 5000 NEGROES, 
 with good titles, slaves for life or for a term of years, in large 
 or small families, or single negroes. I will also purchase Ne 
 groes restricted to remain in the State, that sustain good char 
 acters. Families never separated. Persons having Slaves for 
 sale will please call and see me, as I. am always in the market 
 with the cash. Communications promptly attended to, and 
 liberal commissions paid, by JOHN N. DENNING, No. 18 S. 
 Frederick street, between Baltimore and Second streets, Balti 
 more, Maryland. Trees in front of the house. 
 
 Mr. John Denning, also, is a man of humanity. He 
 never separates families. Don t you see it in his advertise 
 ment ? If a man offers him a wife without her husband, 
 Mr. John Denning won t buy her. Oh, no ! His five thou 
 sand are all unbroken families ; he never takes any other ; 
 and he transports them whole and entire. This is a com 
 fort to reflect upon, certainly. 
 
 See, also, the " Democrat," published in Cambridge, 
 Maryland, December 8, 1852. A gentleman gives this pic 
 torial representation of himself, with the proclamation to 
 the slave-holders of Dorchester and adjacent counties that 
 he is again in the market : 
 
 NEGROES WANTED. 
 
 I wish to inform the slave-holders of Dorchester and the 
 adjacent counties that I am again in the Market. Persons 
 having negroes that are slaves for life to dispose of will 
 find it to their interest to see me before they sell, as I am deter- 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 385 
 
 mined to pay the highest prices in cash that the Southern 
 market will justify. I can be found at A. Hall s Hotel in 
 Easton, where I will remain until the first day of July next. 
 Communications addressed to me at Easton, or information 
 given to Wm. Bell in Cambridge, will meet with prompt atten 
 tion. WM. HARKER. 
 
 Mr. Harker is very accommodating. He keeps himself 
 informed as to the state of the Southern market, and will 
 give the very highest price that it will justify. Moreover, 
 he will be on hand till July, and will answer any letters 
 from the adjoining country on the subject. On one point he 
 ought to be spoken to. He has not advertised that he does 
 not separate families. It is a mere matter of taste, to be 
 sure ; but then some well-disposed people like to see it on a 
 trader s card, thinking it has a more creditable appearance ; 
 and, probably, Mr. Harker, if he reflects a little, will put 
 it in next time. It takes up very little room, and makes a 
 good appearance. 
 
 We are occasionally reminded, by the advertisements for 
 runaways, to how small an extent it is found possible to 
 avoid the separation of families ; as in the " Richmond 
 Whig of November 5, 1852 : 
 
 $10 REWARD. 
 
 We are requested by Henry P. Davis to offer a reward of $10 
 for the apprehension of a negro man named HENRY, who ran 
 away from the said Davis farm near Petersburg, on Thursday, 
 the 27th October. Said slave came from near Lynchburg. Va., 
 purchased of - Cock, and has a wife in Halifax county, Va. 
 He has recently been employed on the South Side Railroad. 
 He may be in the neighborhood of his wife. 
 
 PULLIAM & DAVIS, Aucts., Richmond. 
 
 It seems to strike the advertiser as possible that Henry 
 may be in the neighborhood of his wife. We should not 
 at all wonder if he were. 
 
 The reader, by this time, is in possession of some of those 
 statistics of which the South Carolinian speaks, when he 
 says, 
 
386 
 
 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 " We feel confident, if statistics could be had, to throw light 
 upon the subject, we should find that there is less separation of 
 families among the negroes than occurs with almost any other 
 class of persons." 
 
 In order to give some little further idea of the extent to 
 which this kind of property is continually changing hands, 
 see the following calculation, which has been made from 
 sixty -four Southern newspapers, taken very much at ran 
 dom. The papers were all published in the last two weeks 
 of the month of November, 1852. 
 
 The negroes are advertised sometimes by name, some 
 times in definite numbers, and sometimes in " lots, 7 " as 
 sortments," and other indefinite terms. We present the 
 result of this estimate, far as it must fall from a fair rep 
 resentation of the facts, in a tabular form. 
 
 Here is recorded, in only eleven papers, the sale of eight 
 hundred and forty-nine slaves in two weeks in Virginia ; 
 the State where Dr. J. Thornton Randolph describes such 
 an event as a separation of families being a thing that " we 
 read of in novels sometimes." 
 
 States where published. 
 
 No. of Papers 
 consulted. 
 
 No. of Negroes 
 advertised. 
 
 o5 
 
 2 
 
 *o 
 
 i 
 
 No. of Runaways 
 described. 
 
 
 11 
 
 849 
 
 7 
 
 15 
 
 
 5 
 
 238 
 
 1 
 
 7 
 
 
 8 
 
 385 
 
 4 
 
 17 
 
 
 12 
 
 852 
 
 2 
 
 7 
 
 
 6 
 
 98 
 
 2 
 
 o 
 
 
 10 
 
 549 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 
 8 
 
 669 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 
 4 
 
 460 
 
 4 
 
 35 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 64 
 
 4100 
 
 30 
 
 92 
 
 In South Carolina, where the writer in " Eraser s Maga- 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 387 
 
 zine " dates from, we have during these same two weeks a 
 sale of eight hundred and fifty-two recorded by one dozen 
 papers. Verily, we must apply to the newspapers of his 
 state the same language which he applies to " Uncle Tom s 
 Cabin : " " Were our views of the system of slavery to be 
 derived from these papers, we should regard the families of 
 slaves as utterly unsettled and vagrant." 
 
 The total, in sixty-four papers, in different States, for 
 only two weeks, is four thousand one hundred, besides 
 ninety-two lots, as they are called. 
 
 And now, who is he who compares the hopeless, return- 
 less separation of the negro from his family, to the volun 
 tary separation of the freeman, whom necessary business 
 interest takes for a while from the bosom of his family ? 
 Is not the lot of the slave bitter enough, without this last 
 of mockeries and worst of insults ? Well may they say, 
 in their anguish, " Our soul is exceedingly filled with the 
 scorning of them that are at ease, and with the contempt 
 of the proud ! " 
 
 From the poor negro, exposed to bitterest separation, the 
 law jealously takes away the power of writing. For him 
 the gulf of separation yawns black and hopeless, with no 
 redeeming signal. Ignorant of geography, he knows not 
 whither he is going, or where he is, or how to direct a 
 letter. To all intents and purposes, it is a separation hope 
 less as that of death, and as final. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE SLAVE-TRADE 
 
 What is it that constitutes the vital force of the institu 
 tion of slavery in this country ? Slavery, being an un 
 natural and unhealthful condition of society, being a most 
 wasteful and impoverishing mode of cultivating the soil, 
 
388 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 would speedily run itself out in a community, and become 
 so unprofitable as to fall into disuse, were it not kept alive 
 by some unnatural process. 
 
 What has that process been in America ? Why has that 
 healing course of nature which cured this awful wound in all 
 the Northern States stopped short on Mason and Dixon s 
 line ? In Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, and Kentucky, 
 slave labor long ago impoverished the soil almost beyond 
 recovery, and became entirely unprofitable. In all these 
 States it is well known that the question of emancipation 
 has been urgently presented. It has been discussed in 
 legislatures, and Southern men have poured forth on the 
 institution of slavery such anathemas as only Southern men 
 can pour forth. All that has ever been said of it at the 
 North has been said in fourfold thunders in these South 
 ern discussions. The State of Kentucky once came within 
 one vote, in her legislature, of taking measures for gradual 
 emancipation. The State of Virginia has come almost 
 equally near, and Maryland has long been waiting at the 
 door. There was a time when no one doubted that all 
 these States would soon be free States ; and what is now 
 the reason that they are not ? Why are these discussions 
 now silenced, and why does this noble determination now 
 retrograde ? The answer is in a word. It is the exten 
 sion of slave territory, the opening of a great Southern 
 slave-market, and the organization of a great internal slave- 
 trade, that has arrested the progress of emancipation. 
 
 While these States were beginning to look upon the 
 slave as one who might possibly yet become a man, while 
 they meditated giving to him and his wife and children the 
 inestimable blessings of liberty, this great Southern slave- 
 mart was opened. It began by the addition of Missouri as 
 slave territory, and the votes of two Northern men were 
 those which decided this great question. Then, by the 
 assent and concurrence of Northern men, came in all the 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 389 
 
 immense acquisition of slave territory which now opens so 
 boundless a market to tempt the avarice and cupidity of 
 the northern slave-raising States. 
 
 This acquisition of territory has deferred perhaps for in 
 definite ages the emancipation of a race. It has condemned 
 to sorrow and heart-breaking separation, to groans and 
 wailings, hundreds of thousands of slave families ; it has 
 built, through all the Southern States, slave-warehouses, 
 with all their ghastly furnishings of gags, and thumb 
 screws, and cowhides ; it has organized unnumbered slave- 
 coffles, clanking their chains and filing in mournful march 
 through this land of liberty. 
 
 This accession of slave territory hardened the heart of 
 the master. It changed what was before, in comparison, 
 a kindly relation, into the most horrible and inhuman of 
 trades. 
 
 But we will not deal in assertions merely. We have 
 stated the thing to be proved ; let us show the facts which 
 prove it. 
 
 The existence of this fearful traffic is known to many, 
 the particulars and dreadful extent of it realized but by 
 few. 
 
 Let us enter a little more particularly on them. The 
 slave-exporting States are Maryland, Virginia, Kentucky, 
 North Carolina, Tennessee, and Missouri. These are slave- 
 raising States, and the others are slave-consuming States. 
 We have shown, in the preceding chapters, the kind of ad 
 vertisements which are usual in those States ; but, as we 
 wish to produce on the minds of our readers something of 
 the impression which has been produced on our own mind by 
 their multiplicity and abundance, we shall add a few more 
 here. For the State of Virginia, see all the following : 
 
 " Kanawha Bepublican," October 20, 1852, Charleston, 
 Va. At the head Liberty, with a banner, " Drapeau 
 sans Tceche." 
 
390 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 CASH FOR NEGROES. 
 
 The subscriber wishes to purchase a few young NEGROES, 
 from 12 to 25 years of age, for which the highest market price 
 will be paid in cash. A few lines addressed to him through 
 the Post Office, Kanawha C. PI., or a personal application, will 
 be promptly attended to. JAS. L. FICKLIN. 
 
 Oct. 20, 53. 3t 
 
 "Alexandria Gazette," October 28th : 
 
 CASH FOR NEGROES. 
 
 I wish to purchase immediately, for the South, any number 
 of NEGROES, /rom 10 to 30 years of age, for which I will pay 
 the very highest cash price. All communications promptly 
 attended to. JOSEPH BRUIN. 
 
 West End, Alexandria, Va., Oct. 26. tf 
 
 " Lynchburg Virginian," November 18th : 
 
 NEGROES WANTED. 
 
 The subscriber, having located in Lynchburg, is giving the 
 highest cash prices for negroes, between the ages of 10 and 
 30 years. Those having negroes for sale may find it to their 
 interest to call on him at the Washington Hotel, Lynchburg, 
 or address him by letter. 
 
 All communications will receive prompt attention. 
 
 J. B. McLENDON. 
 
 Nov. 5. dly 
 
 " Rockingham Register," November 13th : 
 
 CASH FOR NEGROES. 
 
 I wish to purchase a number of NEGROES of both sexes 
 and all ages, for the Southern market, for which I will pay the 
 highest cash prices. Letters addressed to me at Winchester, 
 Virginia, will be promptly attended to. 
 
 H. J. MCDANIEL, Agent 
 
 for Wm. Crow. 
 Nov. 24, ]846.-tf 
 
 [Similar advertisements are given from Maryland, Ten 
 nessee, and Missouri papers.] 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 391 
 
 We ask you, Christian reader, we beg you to think, what 
 sort of scenes are going on in Virginia under these adver 
 tisements ? You see that they are carefully worded so as 
 to take only the young people ; and they are only a speci 
 men of the standing, season advertisements which are among 
 the most common things in the Virginia papers. A succeed 
 ing chapter will open to the reader the interior of these 
 slave-prisons, and show him something of the daily inci 
 dents of this kind of trade. Now let us look at the corre 
 sponding advertisements in the Southern States. The coffles 
 made up in Virginia and other States are thus announced in 
 the Southern market. 
 
 From the " Natchez (Mississippi) Free Trader/ Novem 
 ber 20th : 
 
 NEGROES FOR SALE. 
 
 The undersigned have just arrived, direct from Richmond, 
 Va., with a large and likely lot of Negroes, consisting of Field 
 Hands, House Servants, Seamstresses, Cooks, Washers, and 
 Ironers, a first-rate brick mason, and other mechanics, which 
 they now offer for sale at the Forks of the Road, near Natchez 
 (Miss.), on the most accommodating terms. 
 
 They will continue to receive fresh supplies from Richmond, 
 Va., during the season, and will be able to furnish to any order 
 any description of Negroes sold in Richmond. 
 
 Persons wishing to purchase would do well to give us a call 
 before purchasing elsewhere. 
 
 MATTHEWS, BRANTON & Co, 
 
 nov20-6m 
 
 [Nine similar advertisements follow.] 
 
 The slave-raising business of the Northern States has 
 been variously alluded to and recognized, both in the busi 
 ness statistics of the States, and occasionally in the speeches 
 of patriotic men, who have justly mourned over it as a degra 
 dation to their country. In 1841, the British and Foreign 
 Anti-Slavery Society addressed to the executive committee 
 of the American Anti-Slavery Society some inquiries on the 
 internal American slave-trade. 
 
392 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 A labored investigation was made at that time, the re 
 sults of which were published in London ; and from that 
 volume are made the following extracts : 
 
 " The Virginia Times (a weekly newspaper, published at 
 Wheeling, Virginia) estimates, in 1836, the number of slaves ex 
 ported for sale from that State alone, during the twelve months 
 preceding, at forty thousand, the aggregate value of whom is 
 computed at twenty-four millions of dollars. 
 
 " Allowing for Virginia one half of the whole exportation 
 during the period in question, and we have the appalling sum 
 total of eighty thousand slaves exported in a single year from the 
 breeding States. We cannot decide with certainty what propor 
 tion of the above number was furnished by each of the breeding 
 States, but Maryland ranks next to Virginia in point of num 
 bers, North Carolina follows Maryland, Kentucky, North Caro 
 lina, then Tennessee and Delaware." 
 
 If we look back to the advertisements, we shall see that 
 the traders take only the younger ones, between the ages of 
 ten and thirty. But this is only one port, and only one 
 mode of exporting ; for multitudes of them are sent in 
 coffles over land. And yet Mr. J. Thornton Randolph 
 represents the negroes of Virginia as living in pastoral 
 security, smoking their pipes under their own vines and 
 fig- trees, the venerable patriarch of the flock declaring that 
 " he nebber hab hear such a ting as a nigger sold to Geor 
 gia all his life, unless dat nigger did someting very bad." 
 
 The following extract from a letter of Dr. Bailey, in the 
 " Era," 1847, presents a view of this subject more credita 
 ble to some Virginia families. May the number that refuse 
 to part with slaves except by emancipation increase ! 
 
 " The sale of slaves to the South is carried to a great extent. 
 The slave-holders do not, so far as I can learn, raise them for 
 that special purpose. But, here is a man with a score of slaves, 
 located on an exhausted plantation. It must furnish support 
 for all ; but, while they increase, its capacity of supply decreases. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 393 
 
 The result is, he must emancipate or sell. But he has fallen 
 into debt, and he sells to relieve himself from debt, and also 
 from an excess of mouths. Or, he requires money to educate 
 his children ; or, his negroes are sold under execution. From 
 these and other causes, large numbers of slaves are continually 
 disappearing from the State, so that the next census will un 
 doubtedly show a marked diminution of the slave population. 
 
 " The season for this trade is generally from November to 
 April ; and some estimate that the average number of slaves 
 passing by the southern railroad weekly, during that period of 
 six months, is at least two hundred. A slave-trader told me 
 that he had known one hundred pass in a single night. But 
 this is only one route. Large numbers are sent off westwardly, 
 and also by sea, coastwise. The Davises, in Petersburg, are the 
 great slave-dealers. They are Jews, who came to that place 
 many years ago as poor peddlers ; and, I am informed, are mem 
 bers of a family which has its representatives in Philadelphia, 
 New York, etc. ! These men are always in the market, giving 
 the highest price for slaves. During the summer and fall they 
 buy them up at low prices, trim, shave, w r ash them, fatten them 
 so that they may look sleek, and sell them to great profit. It 
 might not be unprofitable to inquire how much Northern capi 
 tal, and what firms in some of the Northern cities, are connected 
 with this detestable business. 
 
 " There are many planters here who cannot be persuaded to 
 sell their slaves. They have far more than they can find work 
 for, and could at any time obtain a high price for them. The 
 temptation is strong, for they want more money and fewer de 
 pendants. But they resist it, and nothing can induce them to 
 part with a single slave, though they know that they would be 
 greatly the gainers in a pecuniary sense, were they to sell one 
 half of them. Such men are too good to be slave-holders. 
 Would that they might see it their duty to go one step further, 
 and become emancipators ! The majority of this class of 
 planters are religious men, and this is the class to which gener 
 ally are to be referred the various cases of emancipation ly will, 
 of which from time to time we hear accounts." 
 
394 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 SELECT INCIDENTS OF LAWFUL TRADE, OR FACTS STRANGER 
 THAN FICTION 
 
 The atrocious and sacrilegious system of breeding human 
 heings for sale, and trading them like cattle in the market, 
 fails to produce the impression on the mind that it ought 
 to produce, because it is lost in generalities. 
 
 It is like the account of a great battle, in which we learn, 
 in round numbers, that ten thousand were killed and 
 wounded, and throw the paper by without a thought. 
 
 So, when we read of sixty or eighty thousand human be 
 ings being raised yearly and sold in the market, it passes 
 through our mind, but leaves no definite trace. 
 
 Sterne says that when he would realize the miseries of 
 captivity, he had to turn his mind from the idea of hun 
 dreds of thousands languishing in dungeons, and bring be 
 fore himself the picture of one poor, solitary captive pining 
 in his cell. In like manner, we cannot give any idea of 
 the horribly cruel and demoralizing effect of this trade, ex 
 cept by presenting facts in detail, each fact being a specimen 
 of a class of facts. 
 
 The next history is a long one, and part of it transpired 
 in a most public manner, in the face of our whole com 
 munity. 
 
 The history includes in it the whole account of that 
 memorable capture of the Pearl, which produced such a 
 sensation in Washington in the year 1848. The author, 
 however, will preface it with a short history of a slave 
 woman who had six children embarked in that ill-fated 
 enterprise. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 395 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Milly Edmondson is an aged woman, now upwards of 
 seventy. She has received the slave s inheritance of entire 
 ignorance. She cannot read a letter of a book, nor write 
 her own name ; but the writer must say that she was never 
 so impressed with any presentation of the Christian religion 
 as that which was made to her in the language and appear 
 ance of this woman during the few interviews that she had 
 with her. The circumstances of the interviews will be 
 detailed at length in the course of the story. 
 
 Milly is above the middle height, of a large, full figure. 
 She dresses with the greatest attention to neatness. A plain 
 Methodist cap shades her face, and the plain white Metho 
 dist handkerchief is folded across the bosom. A well-pre 
 served stuff gown, and clean white apron, with a white 
 pocket-handkerchief pinned to her side, completes the inven 
 tory of the costume in which the writer usually saw her. 
 She is a mulatto, and must once have been a very handsome 
 one. Her eyes and smile are still uncommonly beautiful, 
 but there are deep-wrought lines of patient sorrow and 
 weary endurance on her face, which tell that this lovely 
 and noble-hearted woman has been all her life a slave. 
 
 Milly Edmondson was kept by her owners and allowed 
 to live with her husband, with the express understanding 
 and agreement that her service and value was to consist in 
 breeding up her own children to be sold in the slave-market. 
 Her legal owner was a maiden lady of feeble capacity, who 
 was set aside by the decision of court as incompetent to 
 manage her affairs. 
 
 The estate that is to say, Milly Edmondson and her 
 children was placed in the care of a guardian. It appears 
 that Milly s poor, infirm mistress was fond of her, and that 
 Milly exercised over her much of that ascendancy which a 
 
396 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 strong mind holds over a weak one. Milly s husband, Paul 
 Edmondson, was a free man. A little of her history, as she 
 related it to the writer, will now be given in her own words : 
 
 " Her mistress/ 7 she said, " was always kind to her, poor 
 thing ! but then she had n t sperit ever to speak for her 
 self, and her friends would n t let her have her own way. 
 It always laid on my mind," she said, " that I was a slave. 
 When I wa n t more than fourteen years old, Missis was do 
 ing some work one day that she thought she could n t trust 
 me with, and she says to me, Milly, now you see it s I 
 that am the slave, and not you. I says to her, Ah, Missis, 
 I am a poor slave, for all that. I s sorry afterwards I said 
 it, for I thought it seemed to hurt her feelings. 
 
 " Well, after a while, when I got engaged to Paul, I 
 loved Paul very much ; but I thought it wa n t right to 
 bring children into the world to be slaves, and I told our 
 folks that I was never going to marry, though I did love 
 Paul. But that wa n t to be allowed," she said, with a 
 mysterious air. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said I. 
 
 " Well, they told me I must marry, or I should be turned 
 out of the church so it was," she added, with a signifi 
 cant nod. " Well, Paul and me, we was married, and we 
 was happy enough, if it had n t been for that ; but when 
 our first child was born I says to him, There t is, now, 
 Paul, our troubles is begun ; this child is n t ours. And 
 every child I had, it grew worse and worse. Oh, Paul, 
 says I, what a thing it is to have children that is n t ours! 
 Paul he says to me, ( Milly, my dear, if they be God s chil 
 dren, it ain t so much matter whether they be ours or no ; 
 they may be heirs of the kingdom, Milly, for all that. 
 Well, when Paul s mistress died, she set him free, and he 
 got him a little place out about fourteen miles from Wash 
 ington ; and they let me live out there with him, and take 
 home my tasks ; for they had that confidence in me that 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 397 
 
 they always know d that what I said I d do was as good 
 done as if they d seen it done. I had mostly sewing ; 
 sometimes a shirt to make in a day, it was coarse like, 
 you know, or a pair of sheets, or some. such ; but, what 
 ever twas, I always got it done. Then I had all my 
 housework and babies to take care of ; and many s the 
 time, after ten o clock, I ve took my children s clothes and 
 washed em all out and ironed em late in the night, cause 
 I could n t never bear to see my children dirty, always 
 wanted to see em sweet and clean, and I brought em up 
 and taught em the very best ways I was able. But nobody 
 knows what I suffered ; I never see a white man come on 
 to the place that I did n t think, { There, now, he s coming 
 to look at my children ; and when I saw any white man 
 going by, I ve called in my children and hid em, for fear 
 he d see em and want to buy em. Oh, ma am, mine s 
 been a long sorrow, a long sorrow ! I ve borne this heavy 
 cross a great many years." 
 
 " But," said I, " the Lord has been with you." 
 
 She answered, with very strong emphasis, " Ma am, if 
 the Lord had n t held me up, I should n t have been alive 
 this day. Oh, sometimes my heart s been so heavy, it 
 seemed as if I must die ; and then I ve been to the throne 
 of grace, and when I d poured out all my sorrows there, I 
 came away light, and felt that I could live a little longer." 
 
 This language is exactly her own. She had often a forci 
 ble and peculiarly beautiful manner of expressing herself, 
 which impressed what she said strongly. 
 
 Paul and Milly Edmondson were both devout communi 
 cants in the Methodist Episcopal Church at Washington, 
 and the testimony to their blamelessness of life and the 
 consistence of their piety is unanimous from all who know 
 them. In their simple cottage, made respectable by neat 
 ness and order, and hallowed by morning and evening 
 prayer, they trained up their children, to the best of their 
 
398 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 poor ability, in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, to 
 be sold in the slave-market. They thought themselves only 
 too happy, as one after another arrived at the age when 
 they were to be sold, that they were hired to families in 
 their vicinity, and not thrown into the trader s pen to be 
 drafted for the dreaded Southern market ! 
 
 The mother, feeling, with a constant but repressed an 
 guish, the weary burden of slavery which lay upon her, 
 was accustomed, as she told the writer, thus to warn her 
 daughters : 
 
 " Now, girls, don t you never come to the sorrows that 
 I have. Don t you never marry till you get your liberty. 
 Don t you marry, to be mothers to children that ain t your 
 own." 
 
 As a result of this education, some of her older daugh 
 ters, in connection with the young men to whom they were 
 engaged, raised the sum necessary to pay for their freedom 
 before they were married. One of these young women, at 
 the time that she paid for her freedom, was in such feeble 
 health that the physician told her that she could not live 
 many months, and advised her to keep the money, and 
 apply it to making herself as comfortable as she could. 
 
 She answered, " If I had only two hours to live, I would 
 pay down that money to die free." 
 
 If this was setting an extravagant value on liberty, it is 
 not for an American to say so. 
 
 All the sons and daughters of this family were distin 
 guished both for their physical and mental development, 
 and therefore were priced exceedingly high in the market. 
 The whole family, rated by the market prices which have 
 been paid for certain members of it, might be estimated as 
 an estate of fifteen thousand dollars. They were distin 
 guished for intelligence, honesty, and faithfulness, but above 
 all for the most devoted attachment to each other. These 
 children, thus intelligent, were all held as slaves in the city 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 399 
 
 of Washington, the very capital where our national govern 
 ment is conducted. Of course, the high estimate which 
 their own mother taught them to place upon liberty was in 
 the way of being constantly strengthened and. reinforced by 
 such addresses, celebrations, and speeches, on the subject 
 of liberty, as every one knows are constantly being made, 
 on one occasion or another, in our national capital. 
 
 On the 13th of April, the little schooner Pearl, com 
 manded by Daniel Drayton, came to anchor in the Potomac 
 River, at Washington. 
 
 The news had just arrived of a revolution in France, and 
 the establishment of a democratic government, and all 
 Washington was turning out to celebrate the triumph of 
 Liberty. 
 
 The trees in the avenue were fancifully hung with many- 
 colored lanterns, drums beat, bands of music played, the 
 houses of the President and other high officials were illu 
 minated, and men, women, and children were all turned 
 out to see the procession, and to join in the shouts of lib 
 erty that rent the air. Of course, all the slaves of the city, 
 lively, fanciful, and sympathetic, most excitable as they are 
 by music and by dazzling spectacles, were everywhere lis 
 tening, seeing, and rejoicing, in ignorant joy. All the 
 heads of departments, senators, representatives, and dignita 
 ries of all kinds, marched in procession to an open space on 
 Pennsylvania Avenue, and there delivered congratulatory 
 addresses on the progress of universal freedom. With 
 unheard-of imprudence, the most earnest defenders of slave- 
 holding institutions poured down on the listening crowd, 
 both of black and white, bond and free, the most inflam 
 matory and incendiary sentiments. Such, for example, as 
 the following language of Hon. Frederick P. Stanton, of 
 Tennessee : 
 
 " We do not, indeed, propagate our principles with the sword 
 of power ; but there is one sense in which we are propagand- 
 
400 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 ists. We cannot help being so. Our example is contagious. In 
 the section of this great country where I live, on the banks of 
 the mighty Mississippi River, we have the true emblem of the 
 tree of liberty. There you may see the giant cottoiiwood spread 
 ing his branches widely to the winds of heaven. Sometimes 
 the current lays bare his roots, and you behold them extending 
 far around, and penetrating to an immense depth in the soil. 
 When the season of maturity comes, the air is filled with a 
 cotton-like substance, which floats in every direction, bearing 
 on its light wings the living seeds of the mighty tree. Thus 
 the seeds of freedom have emanated from the tree of our liber 
 ties. They fill the air. They are wafted to every part of the 
 habitable globe. And even in the barren sands of tyranny 
 they are destined to take root. The tree of liberty will spring 
 up everywhere, and nations shall recline in its shade." 
 
 Senator Foote, of Mississippi, also used this language : 
 
 " Such has been the extraordinary course of events in France, 
 and in Europe, within the last two months, that the more 
 deliberately we survey the scene which has been spread out be 
 fore us, and the more rigidly we scrutinize the conduct of its 
 actors, the more confident does our conviction become that the 
 glorious ivork which has been so well begun cannot possibly 
 fail of complete accomplishment ; that the age of TYRANTS 
 AND SLAVERY is rapidly drawing to a close ; and that the happy 
 period to be signalized by the universal emancipation of man 
 from the fetters of civil oppression, and the recognition in all 
 countries of the great principles of popular sovereignty, equality, 
 and BROTHERHOOD, is, at this moment, visibly commencing." 
 
 Will any one be surprised, after this, that seventy-seven 
 of the most intelligent young slaves, male and female, in 
 Washington city, honestly taking Mr. Foote and his brother 
 senators at their word, and believing that the age of tyrants 
 and slavery was drawing to a close, banded together, and 
 made an effort to obtain their part in this reign of universal 
 brotherhood ? 
 
 The schooner Pearl was lying in the harbor, and Captain 
 Drayton was found to have the heart of a man. Perhaps 
 he, too, had listened to the addresses on Pennsylvania 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 401 
 
 Avenue, and thought, in the innocence of his heart, that a 
 man who really did something to promote universal eman 
 cipation was no worse than the men who only made 
 speeches about it. 
 
 At any rate, Drayton was persuaded to allow these sev 
 enty-seven slaves to secrete themselves in the hold of his 
 vessel, and among them were six children of Paul and 
 Milly Edmondson. The incidents of the rest of the narra 
 tive will now be given as obtained from Mary and Emily 
 Edmondson, by the lady in whose family they have been 
 placed by the writer for an education. 
 
 Some few preliminaries may be necessary, in order to 
 understand the account. 
 
 A respectable colored man, by the name of Daniel Bell, 
 who had purchased his own freedom, resided in the city of 
 Washington. His wife, with her eight children, were 
 set free by her master, when on his death-bed. The heirs 
 endeavored to break the will, on the ground that he was 
 not of sound mind at the time of its preparation. The 
 magistrate, however, before whom it was executed, by his 
 own personal knowledge of the competence of the man at 
 the time, was enabled to defeat their purpose ; the family, 
 therefore, lived as free for some years. On the death of 
 this magistrate, the heirs again brought the case into court, 
 and, as it seemed likely to be decided against the family, 
 they resolved to secure their legal rights by flight, and en 
 gaged passage on board the vessel of Captain Drayton. 
 Many of their associates and friends, stirred up, perhaps, 
 by the recent demonstrations in favor of liberty, begged 
 leave to accompany them in their night. The seeds of 
 the cottonwood were flying everywhere, and springing up 
 in all hearts ; so that, on the eventful evening of the 15th 
 of April, 1848, not less than seventy-seven men, women, 
 and children, with beating hearts, arid anxious secrecy, 
 stowed themselves away in the hold of the little schooner, 
 
402 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 and Certain Drayton was so wicked that he could not, for 
 the life of him, say " Nay " to one of them. 
 
 Richard Edmondson had long sought to buy his liberty ; 
 had toiled for it early and late : but the price set upon him 
 was so high that he despaired of ever earning it. On this 
 evening, he and his three brothers thought, as the reign of 
 universal brotherhood had begun, and the reign of tyrants 
 and slavery come to an end, that they would take to them 
 selves and their sisters that sacred gift of liberty, which 
 all Washington had been informed, two evenings before, it 
 was the peculiar province of America to give to all nations. 
 Their two sisters, aged sixteen and fourteen, were hired out 
 in families in the city. On this evening Samuel Edmond 
 son called at the house where Emily lived, and told her of 
 the projected plan. 
 
 " But what will mother think ? " said Emily. 
 
 " Don t stop to think of her ; she would rather we d be 
 free than to spend time to talk about her." 
 
 "Well, then, if Mary will go, I will." 
 
 The girls give as a reason for wishing to escape, that 
 though they had never suffered hardships or been treated 
 unkindly, yet they knew they were liable at any time to be 
 sold into rigorous bondage, and separated far from all they 
 loved. 
 
 They then all went on board the Pearl, which was lying 
 a little way off from the place where vessels usually anchor. 
 There they found a company of slaves, seventy-seven in 
 number. 
 
 At twelve o clock at night the silent wings of the little 
 schooner were spread, and with her weight of fear and mys 
 tery she glided out into the stream. A fresh breeze sprang 
 up, and by eleven o clock next night they had sailed two 
 hundred miles from Washington, and began to think that 
 liberty was gained. They anchored in a place called Corn 
 field Harbor, intending to wait for daylight. All laid down 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 403 
 
 to sleep in peaceful security, lulled by the gentle rock of the 
 vessel and the rippling of the waters. 
 
 But at two o clock at night they were roused by terrible 
 noises on deck, scuffling, screaming, swearing, and groaning. 
 A steamer had pursued and overtaken them, and the little 
 schooner was boarded by an infuriated set of armed men. 
 In a moment, the captain, mate, and all the crew were seized 
 and bound, amid oaths and dreadful threats. As they, 
 swearing and yelling, tore open the hatches on the defense 
 less prisoners below, Richard Edmondson stepped forward, 
 and in a calm voice said to them, " Gentlemen, do your 
 selves no harm, for we are all here. 77 With this exception, 
 all was still among the slaves as despair could make it ; not 
 a word was spoken in the whole company. The men were 
 all bound and placed on board the steamer ; the women 
 were left on board the schooner, to be towed after. 
 
 The explanation of their capture was this : In the morn 
 ing after they had sailed, many families in Washington 
 found their slaves missing, and the event created as great 
 an excitement as the emancipation of France had, two days 
 before. At that time they had listened in the most com 
 placent manner to the announcement that the reign of sla 
 very was near its close, because they had not the slightest 
 idea that the language meant anything ; and they were 
 utterly confounded by this practical application of it. More 
 than a hundred men, mounted upon horses, determined to 
 push out into the country, in pursuit of these new disciples 
 of the doctrine of universal emancipation. Here a colored 
 man, by the name of Judson Diggs, betrayed the whole 
 plot. He had been provoked, because, after having taken 
 a poor woman, with her luggage, down to the boat, she 
 was unable to pay the twenty-five cents that he demanded. 
 So he told these admirers of universal brotherhood that 
 they need not ride into the country, as their slaves had 
 sailed down the river, and were far enough off by this time. 
 
404 A KEY TO UXCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 A steamer was immediately manned by two hundred armed 
 men, and away they went in pursuit. 
 
 When the cortege arrived with the captured slaves, there 
 was a most furious excitement in the city. The men were 
 driven through the streets bound with ropes, two and two. 
 Showers of taunts and jeers rained upon them from all sides. 
 One man asked one of the girls if she "didn t feel pretty to 
 be caught running away, 7 and another asked her, "if she 
 was n t sorry." She answered, " No, if it was to do again to 
 morrow, she would do the same." The man turned to a 
 bystander and said, " Hain t she got good spunk ? " 
 
 But the most vehement excitement was against Drayton 
 and Sayres, the captain and mate of the vessel. Ruffians 
 armed with dirk-knives and pistols crowded around them, 
 with the most horrid threats. One of them struck so near 
 Drayton as to cut his ear, which Emily noticed as bleeding. 
 Meanwhile there mingled in the crowd multitudes of the 
 relatives of the captives, who, looking on them as so many 
 doomed victims, bewailed and lamented them. A brother- 
 in-law of the Edmondsons was so overcome when he saw 
 them that he fainted away and fell down in the street, and was 
 carried home insensible. The sorrowful news spread to the 
 cottage of Paul and Milly Edmondson ; and, knowing that 
 all their children were now probably doomed to the Southern 
 market, they gave themselves up to sorrow. " Oh ! what a 
 day that was ! " said the old mother when describing that 
 scene to the writer. "Never a morsel of anything could I 
 put into my mouth. Paul and me, we fasted and prayed 
 before the Lord, night and day, for our poor children." 
 
 The whole public sentiment of the community was roused 
 to the most intense indignation. It was repeated from mouth 
 to mouth that they had been kindly treated and never 
 abused ; and what could have induced them to try to get 
 their liberty ? All that Mr. Stanton had said of the in 
 sensible influence of American institutions, arid all his 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 405 
 
 pretty similes about the cottonwood seeds, seemed entirely 
 to have escaped the memory of the community, and they 
 could see nothing but the most unheard-of depravity in the 
 attempt of these people to secure freedom. It was strenu 
 ously advised by many that their owners should not forgive 
 them, that no mercy should be show T n, but that they 
 should be thrown into the hands of the traders, forthwith, 
 for the Southern market, that Siberia of the irresponsible 
 despots of America. 
 
 When all the prisoners were lodged in jail, the owners 
 came to make oath to their property, and the property also 
 was required to make oath to their owners. Among them 
 came the married sisters of Mary and Emily, but were not 
 allowed to enter the prison. The girls looked through 
 the iron grates of the third-story windows, and saw their 
 sisters standing below in the yard weeping. 
 
 The guardian of the Edmondsons, who acted in the place 
 of the real owner, apparently touched with their sorrow, 
 promised their family and friends, who were anxious to pur 
 chase them, if possible, that they should have an opportunity 
 the next morning. Perhaps he intended at the time to give 
 them one ; but as Bruin and Hill, the keepers of the large 
 slave warehouse in Alexandria, offered him four thousand 
 five hundred dollars for the six children, they were irrevoc 
 ably sold before the next morning. Bruin would listen to 
 no terms which any of their friends could propose. The 
 lady with whom Mary had lived offered a thousand dollars 
 for her ; but Bruin refused, saying he could get double 
 that sum in the New Orleans market. He said he had had 
 his eye upon the family for twelve years, and had the 
 promise of them should they ever be sold. 
 
 While the girls remained in the prison they had no beds 
 or chairs, and only one blanket each, though the nights 
 were chilly ; but, understanding that the rooms below, 
 where their brothers were confined, were still colder, and 
 
406 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 that no blankets were given them, they sent their own 
 down to them. In the morning they were allowed to go 
 down into the yard for a few moments ; and then they 
 used to run to the window of their brothers room, to bid 
 them good-morning, and kiss them through the grate. 
 
 At ten o clock, Thursday night, the brothers were hand 
 cuffed, and, with their sisters, taken into carriages by their new 
 owners, driven to Alexandria, and put into a prison called 
 a Georgia Pen. The girls were put into a large room alone, 
 in total darkness, without bed or blanket, where they spent 
 the night in sobs and tears, in utter ignorance of their 
 brothers fate. At eight o clock in the morning they were 
 called to breakfast, when, to their great comfort, they found 
 their four brothers all in the same prison. 
 
 They remained here about four weeks, being usually 
 permitted by day to stay below with their brothers, and at 
 night to return to their own rooms. Their brothers had 
 great anxieties about them, fearing they would be sold 
 South. Samuel, in particular, felt very sadly, as he had 
 been the principal actor in getting them away. He often 
 said he would gladly die for them, if that would save them 
 from the fate he feared. He used to weep a great deal, 
 though he endeavored to restrain his tears in their presence. 
 
 While in the slave-prison they were required to wash 
 for thirteen men, though their brothers performed a great 
 share of the labor. Before they left, their size and height 
 were measured by their owners. At length they were again 
 taken out, the brothers handcuffed, and all put on board a 
 steamboat, where were about forty slaves, mostly men, and 
 taken to Baltimore. The voyage occupied one day and a 
 night. When arrived in Baltimore, they were thrown into 
 a slave-pen kept by a partner of Bruin and Hill. He was 
 a man of coarse habits, constantly using the most profane 
 language, and grossly obscene and insulting in his remarks 
 to women. Here they were forbidden to pray together, as 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 407 
 
 they had previously been accustomed to do ; but by rising 
 very early in the morning, they secured to themselves a little 
 interval which they could employ, uninterrupted, in this 
 manner. They, with four or five other women in the 
 prison, used to meet together, before daybreak, to spread 
 their sorrows before the Refuge of the afflicted ; and in 
 these prayers the hard-hearted slave-dealer was daily remem 
 bered. The brothers of Mary and Emily were very gentle 
 and tender in their treatment of their sisters, which had an 
 influence upon other men in their company. 
 
 At this place they became acquainted with Aunt Eachel, 
 a most godly woman, about middle age, who had been sold 
 into the prison away from her husband. The poor husband 
 used often to come to the prison and beg the trader to sell 
 her to his owners, who he thought were willing to purchase 
 her, if the price was not too high. But he was driven off 
 with brutal threats and curses. They remained in Balti 
 more about three weeks. 
 
 The friends in Washington, though hitherto unsuccessful 
 in their efforts to redeem the family, were still exerting 
 themselves in their behalf ; and one evening a message was 
 received from them by telegraph, stating that a person 
 would arrive in the morning train of cars, prepared to bar 
 gain for the family, and that a part of the money was now 
 ready. But the trader was inexorable, and in the morning, 
 an hour before the cars were to arrive, they were all put on 
 board the brig Union, ready to sail for New Orleans. The 
 messenger came, and brought nine hundred dollars in money, 
 the gift of a grandson of John Jacob Astor. This was 
 finally appropriated to the ransom of Richard Edmondson, 
 as his wife and children were said to be suffering in Washing 
 ton ; and the trader would not sell the girls to them upon 
 any consideration, nor would he even suffer Richard to be 
 brought back from the brig, which had not yet sailed. The 
 bargain was, however, made, and the money deposited in 
 Baltimore. 
 
408 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 On this brig the eleven women were put in one small apart 
 ment, and the thirty or forty men in an adjoining one. 
 Emily was very seasick most of the time, and her brothers 
 feared she would die. They used to come and carry her 
 out on deck and back again, buy little comforts for their sis 
 ters, and take all possible care of them. 
 
 Frequently head winds blew them back so that they made 
 very slow progress ; and in their prayer-meetings, which they 
 held every night, they used to pray that head winds might 
 blow them to New York ; and one of the sailors declared 
 that if they could get within one hundred miles of New 
 York, and the slaves would stand by him, he would make 
 way with the captain, and pilot them into New York him 
 self. 
 
 When they arrived near Key West, they hoisted a signal 
 for a pilot, the captain being aware of the dangers of the 
 place, and yet not knowing how to avoid them. As the 
 pilot-boat approached, the slaves Avere all fastened below, 
 and a heavy canvas thrown over the grated hatchway door, 
 which entirely excluded all circulation of air, and almost 
 produced suffocation. The captain and pilot had a long talk 
 about the price, and some altercation ensued, the captain not 
 being willing to give the price demanded by the pilot ; dur 
 ing which time there was great suffering below. The 
 women became so exhausted that they were mostly helpless ; 
 and the situation of the men was not much better, though 
 they managed with a stick to break some holes through the 
 canvas on their side, so as to let in a little air, but a few 
 only of the strongest could get there to enjoy it. Some of 
 them shouted for help as long as their strength would per 
 mit ; and at length, after what seemed to them an almost 
 interminable interview, the pilot left, refusing to assist them ; 
 the canvas was removed, and the brig obliged to turn tack, 
 and take another course. Then, one after another, as they 
 got air and strength, crawled out on deck. Mary and Emily 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 409 
 
 were carried out by their brothers as soon as they were 
 able to do it. 
 
 Soon after this the stock of provisions ran low, and the 
 water failed, so that the slaves were restricted to a gill a day. 
 The sailors were allowed a quart each, and often gave a pint 
 of it to one of the Edmondsons for their sisters ; and they 
 divided it with the other women, as they always did every 
 nice thing they got in such w r ays. 
 
 The day they arrived at the mouth of the Mississippi a 
 terrible storm arose, and the waves rolled mountain high, 
 so that, when the pilot-boat approached, it would sometimes 
 seem to be entirely swallowed by the waves, and again it 
 would emerge, and again appear wholly buried. At length 
 they were towed into and up the river by a steamer, and 
 there for the first time saw cotton plantations, and gangs of 
 slaves at work on them. 
 
 They arrived at New Orleans in the night, and about ten 
 the next day were landed and marched to what they called 
 the show-rooms, and, going out into the yard, saw a great 
 many men and women sitting around, with such sad faces 
 that Emily soon began to cry, upon which an overseer stepped 
 up and struck her on the chin, and bade her " stop crying, 
 or he would give her something to cry about." Then point 
 ing, he told her " there was the calaboose, where they 
 whipped those who did not behave themselves ! " As soon 
 as he turned away, a slave-woman came and told her to look 
 cheerful, if she possibly could, as it would be far better 
 for her. One of her brothers soon came to inquire what 
 the woman had been saying to her ; and when informed, 
 encouraged Emily to follow the advice, and endeavored to 
 profit by it himself. 
 
 That night all four brothers had their hair cut close, their 
 mustaches shaved off, and their usual clothing exchanged 
 for a blue jacket and pants, all of which so altered their 
 appearance that at first their sisters did not know them. 
 
410 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Then, for three successive days, they were all obliged to 
 stand in an open porch fronting the street, for passers-by to 
 look at, except, when one was tired out, she might go in for 
 a little time, and another take her place. Whenever buyers 
 called, they were paraded in the auction-room in rows, ex 
 posed to coarse jokes and taunts. When any one took a 
 liking to any girl in the company, he would call her to him, 
 take hold of her, open her mouth, look at her teeth, and 
 handle her person rudely, frequently making obscene re 
 marks ; and she must stand and bear it, without resistance. 
 Mary and Emily complained to their brothers that they 
 could not submit to such treament. They conversed about 
 it with Wilson, a partner of Bruin and Hill, who had the 
 charge of the slaves at this prison. After this they were 
 treated with more decency. 
 
 Another brother of the girls, named Hamilton, had been 
 a slave in or near New Orleans for sixteen years, and had 
 just purchased his own freedom for one thousand dollars ; 
 having once before earned that sum for himself, and then 
 had it taken from him. Richard being now really free, as 
 the money was deposited in Baltimore for his ransom, found 
 him out the next day after their arrival at New Orleans, 
 and brought him to the prison to see his brothers and sisters. 
 The meeting was overpoweringly affecting. 
 
 He had never before seen his sister Emily, as he had 
 been sold away from his parents before her birth. 
 
 The girls lodging-room was occupied at night by about 
 twenty or thirty women, w r ho all slept on the bare floor, with 
 only a blanket each. After a few days, word was received 
 (which was really incorrect) that half the money had been 
 raised for the redemption of Mary and Emily. After this 
 they were allowed, upon their brother s earnest request, to 
 go to their free brother s house and spend their nights, and 
 return in the mornings, as they had suffered greatly from 
 the mosquitoes and other insects, and their feet were swollen 
 and sore. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 411 
 
 While at this prison, some horrible cases of cruelty came 
 to their knowledge, and some of them under their own 
 observation. Two persons, one woman and one boy, were 
 whipped to death in the prison while they were there, though 
 they were not in the same pen, or owned by the same trader, 
 as themselves. 
 
 None of the slaves were allowed to sleep in the daytime, 
 and sometimes little children sitting or standing idle all day 
 would become so sleepy as not to be able to hold up their 
 eyelids ; but if they were caught thus by the overseer, they 
 were cruelly beaten. Mary and Emily used to watch the 
 little ones, and let them sleep until they heard the over 
 seers coming, and then spring and rouse them in a moment. 
 
 One young woman, who had been sold by the traders for 
 the worst of purposes, was returned, not being fortunate (?) 
 enough to suit her purchaser ; and, as is their custom in 
 such cases, was most cruelly flogged, so much so that 
 some of her flesh mortified, and her life was despaired of. 
 When Mary and Emily first arrived at New Orleans they 
 saw and conversed with her. She was then just beginning 
 to sit up ; was quite small, and very fine-looking, with beau 
 tiful straight hair, which was formerly long, but had been 
 cut off short by her brutal tormentors. 
 
 The overseer who flogged her said, in their hearing, that 
 he would never flog another girl in that way it was too 
 much for any one to bear. They suggest that perhaps the 
 reason why he promised this was because he was obliged to 
 be her nurse, and of course saw her sufferings. She was 
 from Alexandria, but they have forgotten her name. 
 
 One young man and woman of their company in the pri 
 son, who were engaged to be married, and were sold to differ 
 ent owners, felt so distressed at their separation that they 
 could not do or did not labor well ; and the young man was 
 soon sent back, with the complaint that he would not an 
 swer the purpose. Of course, the money was to be refunded, 
 
412 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 and he flogged. He was condemned to be flogged each night 
 for a week ; and, after about two hundred lashes by the over 
 seer, each one of the male slaves in the prison was required 
 to come and lay on five lashes with all his strength, upon pen 
 alty of being flogged himself. The young woman, too, was 
 soon sent there, with a note from her new mistress, requesting 
 that she might be whipped a certain number of lashes, and 
 enclosing the money to pay for it ; which request was readily 
 complied with. 
 
 While in New Orleans they saw gangs of women cleaning 
 the streets,- chained together, some with a heavy iron ball 
 attached to the chain ; a form of punishment frequently re 
 sorted to for household servants who had displeased their 
 mistresses. 
 
 Hamilton Edmondson, the brother who had purchased his 
 own freedom, made great efforts to get good homes for his 
 brothers and sisters in New Orleans, so that they need not 
 be far separated from each other. One day Mr. Wilson, the 
 overseer, took Samuel away with him in a carriage, and re 
 turned without him. The brothers and sisters soon found 
 that he was sold, and gone they knew not whither; but 
 they were not allowed to weep, or even look sad, upon pain 
 of severe punishment. The next day, however, to their 
 great joy, he came to the prison himself, and told them 
 he had a good home in the city with an Englishman, who 
 had paid a thousand dollars for him. 
 
 After remaining about three weeks in this prison, the 
 Edmondsons were told that in consquence of the prevalence 
 of the yellow fever in the city, together with the fact of 
 their not being acclimated, it was deemed dangerous for them 
 to remain there longer; and besides this, purchasers were 
 loth to give good prices under these circumstances. Some 
 of the slaves in the pen were already sick ; some of them old, 
 poor, or dirty, and for these reasons greatly exposed to sick 
 ness. Richard Edmondson had already been ransomed, and 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 413 
 
 must be sent back ; and, upon the whole, it was thought best 
 to fit out and send off a gang to Baltimore, without delay. 
 
 The Edmondsons received these tidings with joyful 
 hearts, for they had not yet been undeceived with regard 
 to the raising of the money for their ransom. Their 
 brother who was free procured for them many comforts for 
 the voyage, such as a mattress, blankets, sheets, and differ 
 ent kinds of food and drink ; and, accompanied to the ves 
 sel by their friends there, they embarked on the brig Union 
 just at night, and were towed out of the river. The brig 
 had nearly a full cargo of cotton, molasses, sugar, etc. ; and 
 of course the space for the slaves was exceedingly limited. 
 The space allotted the females was a little, close, filthy 
 room, perhaps eight or ten feet square, filled with cotton 
 within two or three feet of the top of the room, except the 
 space directly under the hatchway door. Eichard Ed- 
 mondson kept his sisters upon deck with him, though with 
 out a shelter ; prepared their food himself, made up their 
 bed at night on the top of barrels, or wherever he could 
 find a place, and then slept by their side. Sometimes a 
 storm would arise in the middle of the night, when he 
 would spring up and wake them, and, gathering up their 
 bed and bedding, conduct them to a kind of a little pantry, 
 where they could all three just stand, till the storm passed 
 away. Sometimes he contrived to make a temporary shel 
 ter for them out of bits of boards, or something else on 
 deck. 
 
 After a voyage of sixteen days, they arrived at Balti 
 more, fully expecting that their days of slavery were num 
 bered. Here they were conducted back to the same old 
 prison from which they had been taken a few weeks be 
 fore, though they supposed it would be but for an hour 
 or two. Presently Mr. Bigelow, of Washington, came for 
 Richard. When the girls found that they were not to be 
 set free too, their grief and disappointment were unspeak- 
 
414 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 able. But they were separated, Richard to go to his 
 home, his wife, and children, and they to remain in the 
 slave-prison. Wearisome days and nights again rolled on. 
 In the mornings they were obliged to march round the 
 yard to the music of fiddles, banjos, etc. ; in the daytime 
 they washed and ironed for the male slaves, slept some, and 
 wept a great deal. After a few weeks their father came to 
 visit them, accompanied by their sister. 
 
 His object was partly to ascertain what were the very 
 lowest terms upon which their keeper would sell the girls, 
 as he indulged a faint hope that in some way or other the 
 money might be raised, if time enough were allowed. The 
 trader declared he should soon send them to some other 
 slave-market, but he would wait two weeks, and, if the 
 friends could raise the money in that time, they might 
 have them. 
 
 The night their father and sister spent in the prison 
 with them, he lay in the room over their heads ; and they 
 could hear him groan all night, while their sister was 
 weeping by their side. None of them closed their eyes in 
 sleep. 
 
 In the morning came again the wearisome routine of the 
 slave-prison. Old Paul walked quietly into the yard, and 
 sat down to see the poor slaves marched around. He had 
 never seen his daughters in such circumstances before, and 
 his feelings quite overcame him. The yard was narrow, 
 and the girls, as they walked by him, almost brushing him 
 with their clothes, could just hear him groaning within 
 himself, " Oh, my children, my children ! " 
 
 After the breakfast, which none of them were able to 
 eat, they parted with sad hearts, the father begging the 
 keeper to send them to New Orleans, if the money could 
 not be raised, as perhaps their brothers there might secure 
 for them kind masters. 
 
 Two or three weeks afterwards Bruin and Hill visited 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 415 
 
 the prison, dissolved partnership with the trader, settled 
 accounts, and took the Edmondsons again in their own 
 possession. 
 
 The girls were roused about eleven o clock at night, after 
 they had fallen asleep, and told to get up directly, and pre 
 pare for going home. They had learned that the word of 
 a slave-holder is not to be trusted, and feared they were 
 going to be sent to Richmond, Virginia, as there had been 
 talk of it. They were soon on their way in the cars with 
 Bruin, and arrived at Washington at a little past midnight. 
 
 Their hearts throbbed high when, after these long 
 months of weary captivity, they found themselves once 
 more in the city where were their brothers, sisters, and 
 parents. But they were permitted to see none of them, 
 and were put into a carriage and driven immediately to 
 the slave-prison at Alexandria, where, about two o clock at 
 night, they found themselves in the same forlorn old room 
 in which they had begun their term of captivity. 
 
 This was the latter part of August. Again they were 
 employed in washing, ironing, and sewing by day, and 
 always locked up by night. Sometimes they were allowed 
 to sew in Bruin s house, and even to eat there. After 
 they had been in Alexandria two or three weeks, their eld 
 est married sister, not having heard from them for some 
 time, came to see Bruin, to learn, if possible, something of 
 their fate ; and her surprise and joy were great to see them 
 once more, even there. After a few weeks their old father 
 came again to see them. Hopeless as the idea of their 
 emancipation seemed, he still clung to it. He had had 
 some encouragement of assistance in Washington, and he 
 purposed to go North to see if anything could be done 
 there ; and he was anxious to obtain from Bruin what 
 were the very lowest possible terms for which he would 
 sell the girls. Bruin drew up his terms in the following 
 document, which we subjoin : 
 
416 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 ALEXANDRIA, VA., Sept. 5, 1848. 
 
 The bearer, Paul Edmondson, is the father of two girls, 
 Mary Jane and Emily Catharine Edmondson. These girls 
 have been purchased by us, and once sent to the South ; and, 
 upon the positive assurance that the money for them would 
 be raised if they were brought back, they were returned. No 
 thing, it appears, has as yet been done in this respect by those 
 who promised, and we are on the very eve of sending them 
 South the second time ; and we are candid in saying that, if 
 they go again, we will not regard any promises made in rela 
 tion to them. The father wishes to raise money to pay for 
 them, and intends to appeal to the liberality of the humane 
 and the good to aid him, and has requested us to state in writ 
 ing the conditions upon which we will sell his daughters. 
 
 We expect to start our servants to the South in a few days ; 
 if the sum of twelve hundred ($1200) dollars be raised and 
 paid to us in fifteen days, or we be assured of that sum, 
 then we will retain them for twenty-five days more, to give 
 an opportunity for the raising of the other thousand and 
 fifty ($1050) dollars ; otherwise we shall be compelled to 
 send them along with our other servants. 
 
 BRUIN & HILL. 
 
 Paul took his papers, and parted from his daughters 
 sorrowfully. After this, the time to the girls dragged on 
 in heavy suspense. Constantly they looked for letter, or 
 message, and prayed to God to raise them up a deliverer 
 from some quarter. But day after day and week after 
 week passed, and the dreaded time drew near. The pre 
 liminaries for fitting up the gang for South Carolina com 
 menced. Gay calico was bought for them to make up into 
 " show dresses, " in which they were to be exhibited on 
 sale. They made them up with far sadder feelings than 
 they would have sewed on their own shrouds. Hope had 
 almost died out of their bosoms. A few days before the 
 gang were to be sent off, their sister made them a sad fare 
 well visit. They mingled their prayers and tears, and the 
 girls made up little tokens of remembrance to send by her 
 as parting gift to their brothers, and sisters, and aged father 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 417 
 
 and mother, and with a farewell sadder than that of a 
 death-bed the sisters parted. 
 
 The evening before the coffle was to start drew on. 
 Mary and Emily went to the house to bid Bruin s family 
 good-by. Bruin had a little daughter who had been a pet 
 and favorite with the girls. She clung round them, cried, 
 and begged them not to go. Emily told her that, if she 
 wished to have them stay, she must go and ask her father. 
 Away ran the little pleader, full of her errand ; and was so 
 very earnest in her importunities, that he, to pacify her, 
 said he would consent to their remaining, if his partner, 
 Captain Hill, would do so. At this time Bruin, hearing 
 Mary crying aloud in the prison, went up to see her. 
 With all the earnestness of despair, she made her last 
 appeal to his feelings. She begged him to make the case 
 his own, to think of his own dear little daughter, what if 
 she were exposed to be torn away from every friend on 
 earth, and cut off from all hope of redemption, at the very 
 moment, too, when deliverance was expected ! Bruin was 
 not absolutely a man of stone, and this agonizing appeal 
 brought tears to his eyes. He gave some encouragement 
 that, if Hill would consent, they need not be sent off with 
 the gang. A sleepless night followed, spent in weeping, 
 groaning, and prayer. Morning at last dawned, and, accord 
 ing to orders received the day before, they prepared them 
 selves to go, and even put on their bonnets and shawls, and 
 stood ready for the word to be given. When the very last 
 tear of hope was shed, and they were going out to join the 
 gang, Bruin s heart relented. He called them to him, and 
 told them they might remain ! Oh, how glad were their 
 hearts made by this, as they might now hope on a little 
 longer ! Either the entreaties of little Martha or Mary s 
 plea with Bruin had prevailed. 
 
 Soon the gang was started on foot, men, women, and 
 children, two and two, the men all handcuffed together, 
 
418 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 the right wrist of one to the left wrist of the other, and a 
 chain passing through the middle from the handcuffs of one 
 couple to those of the next. The women and children 
 walked in the same manner throughout, handcuffed or 
 chained. Drivers went before and at the side, to take up 
 those who were sick or lame. They were obliged to set off 
 singing ! accompanied with fiddles and banjos ! (( For 
 they that carried us away captive required of us a song, 
 and they that wasted us required of us mirth. " And 
 this is a scene of daily occurrence in a Christian country ! 
 and Christian ministers say that the right to do these 
 things is given by God himself! ! 
 
 Meanwhile poor old Paul Edmondson went northward to 
 supplicate aid. Any one who should have traveled in the 
 cars at the time might have seen a venerable-looking black 
 man, all whose air and attitude indicated a patient humility, 
 and who seemed to carry a weight of overwhelming sorrow, 
 like one who had long been acquainted with grief. That 
 man was Paul Edmondson. 
 
 Alone, friendless, unknown, and, worst of all, black, he 
 came into the great bustling city of New York, to see if 
 there was any one there who could give him twenty-five 
 hundred dollars to buy his daughters with. Can anybody 
 realize what a poor man s feelings are, who visits a great, 
 bustling, rich city, alone, and unknown, for such an object ? 
 The writer has now, in a letter from a slave father and 
 husband who was visiting Portland on a similar errand, a 
 touching expression of it : 
 
 " I walked all day, till I was tired and discouraged. Oh ! Mrs. 
 
 S , when I see so many people who seem to have so many 
 
 more things than they want or know what to do with, and then 
 think that I have worked hard, till I am past forty, all my life, 
 and don t own even my own wife and children, it makes me 
 feel sick and discouraged ! " 
 
 So, sick at heart and discouraged, felt Paul Edmondson. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 419 
 
 He went to the Anti-Slavery Office, and made his case 
 known. The sum was such a large one, and seemed to 
 many so exorbitant, that, though they pitied the poor 
 father, they were disheartened about raising it. They 
 wrote to Washington to authenticate the particulars of the 
 story, and wrote to Bruin and Hill to see if there could 
 be any reduction of price. Meanwhile, the poor old man 
 looked sadly from one adviser to another. He was recom 
 mended to go to the Rev. H. W. Beecher, and tell his story. 
 He inquired his way to his door, ascended the steps to 
 ring the door-bell, but his heart failed him, he sat down 
 on the steps weeping ! 
 
 There Mr. Beecher found him. He took him in, and 
 inquired his story. There was to be a public meeting that 
 night to raise money. The hapless father begged him to 
 go and plead for his children. He did go, and spoke as 
 if he were pleading for his own father and sisters. Other 
 clergymen followed in the same strain, the meeting be 
 came enthusiastic, and money was raised on the spot, and 
 poor old Paul laid his head that night on a grateful pillow, 
 not to sleep, but to give thanks ! 
 
 Meanwhile the girls had been dragging on anxious days 
 in the slave-prison. They were employed in sewing for 
 Bruin s family, staying sometimes in the prison and some 
 times in the house. 
 
 It is to be stated here that Mr. Bruin is a man of very 
 different character from many in his trade. He is such a 
 man as never would have been found in the profession of 
 a slave-trader, had not the most respectable and religious 
 part of the community defended the right to buy and sell, 
 as being conferred by God himself. It is a fact, with 
 regard to this man, that he was one of the earliest subscrib 
 ers to the " National Era," in the District of Columbia ; 
 and when a certain individual there brought himself into 
 great peril by assisting fugitive slaves, and there was no 
 
420 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 one found to go bail for him, Mr. Bruin came forward and 
 performed this kindness. 
 
 While we abhor the horrible system and the horrible 
 trade with our whole soul, there is no harm, we suppose, in 
 wishing that such a man had a better occupation. Yet we 
 cannot forbear reminding all such that, when we come to 
 give our account at the judgment-seat of Christ, every man 
 must speak for himself alone ; and that Christ will not ac 
 cept as an apology for sin the word of all the ministers and 
 all the synods in the country. He has given fair warning, 
 " Beware of false prophets ; " and if people will not beware 
 of them, their blood is upon their own heads. 
 
 The girls, while under Mr. Bruin s care, were treated 
 with as much kindness and consideration as could possibly 
 consist with the design of selling them. There is no doubt 
 that Bruin was personally friendly to them, and really 
 wished most earnestly that they might be ransomed ; but 
 then he did not see how he was to lose two thousand five 
 hundred dollars. He had just the same difficulty on this 
 subject that some New York members of churches have had, 
 when they have had slaves brought into their hands as 
 security for Southern debts. He was sorry for them, and 
 wished them well, and hoped Providence would provide for 
 them when they were sold, but still he could not afford to 
 lose his money ; and while such men remain elders and 
 communicants in churches in New York, we must not be 
 surprised that there remain slave-traders in Alexandria. 
 
 It is one great art of the enemy of souls to lead men to 
 compound for their participation in one branch of sin by 
 their righteous horror of another. The slave-trader has 
 been the general scapegoat on whom all parties have vented 
 their indignation, while buying of him and selling to him. 
 
 There is an awful warning given in the fiftieth Psalm to 
 those who in word have professed religion, and in deed con 
 sented to iniquity, where from the judgment-seat Christ is 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 421 
 
 represented as thus addressing them : " What hast thou to 
 do to declare my statutes, or that thou shouldst take my 
 covenant into thy mouth, seeing thou hatest instruction, 
 and castest my words behind thee ? When thou sawest a 
 thief, then thou consentedst with him, and hast been par 
 taker with adulterers." 
 
 One thing is certain, that all those who do these things^ 
 openly or secretly, must, at last, make up their account with 
 a Judge who is no respecter of persons, and who will just 
 as soon condemn an elder in the church for slave-trading as 
 a professed trader ; nay, He may make it more tolerable 
 for the Sodom and Gomorrah of the trade than for them, 
 for it may be, if the trader had the means of grace that they 
 have had, that he would have repented long ago. 
 
 But to return to our history. The girls were sitting 
 sewing near the open window of their cage, when Emily 
 said to Mary, " There, Mary, is that white man we have 
 seen from the North." They both looked, and in a mo 
 ment more saw their own dear father. They sprang and 
 ran through the house and the office, and into the street, 
 shouting as they ran, followed by Bruin, who said he 
 thought the girls were crazy. In a moment they were in 
 their father s arms, but observed that he trembled exceed 
 ingly, and that his voice was unsteady. They eagerly 
 inquired if the money was raised for their ransom. Afraid 
 of exciting their hopes too soon, before their free papers 
 were signed, he said he would talk with them soon, and 
 went into the office with Mr. Bruin and Mr. Chaplin. Mr. 
 Bruin professed himself sincerely glad, as undoubtedly he 
 was, that they had brought the money ; but seemed much 
 hurt by the manner in which he had been spoken of by the 
 Rev. H. W. Beecher at the liberation meeting in New 
 York, thinking it hard that no difference should be made 
 between him and other traders, when he had shown himself 
 so much more considerate and humane than the great body 
 
422 
 
 of them. He, however, counted over the money and 
 signed the papers with great good will, taking out a five- 
 dollar gold piece for each of the girls, as a parting present. 
 
 The affair took longer than they supposed, and the time 
 seemed an age to the poor girls, who were anxiously walk 
 ing up and . down outside the room, in ignorance of their 
 fate. Could their father have brought the money ? Why 
 did he tremble so ? Could he have failed of the money, at 
 last ? Or could it be that their dear mother was dead, for 
 they had heard that she was very ill ! 
 
 At length a messenger came shouting to them, " You are 
 free ! You are free ! " Emily thinks she sprang nearly to 
 the ceiling overhead. They jumped, clapped their hands, 
 laughed, and shouted aloud. Soon their father came to 
 them, embraced them tenderly, and attempted to quiet them, 
 and told them to prepare to go and see their mother. 
 This they did, they know not how, but with considerable 
 help from the family, who all seemed to rejoice in their 
 joy. Their father procured a carriage to take them to the 
 wharf, and, with joy overflowing all bounds, they bade a 
 most affectionate farewell to each member of the family, 
 not even omitting Bruin himself. The " good that there 
 is in human nature " for once had the upper hand, and all 
 were moved to tears of sympathetic joy. Their father, 
 with subdued tenderness, made great efforts to soothe their 
 tumultuous feelings, and at length partially succeeded. 
 When they arrived at Washington, a carriage was ready to 
 take them to their sister s house. People of every rank 
 and description came running together to get a sight of 
 them. Their brothers caught them up in their arms, and 
 ran about with them, almost frantic with joy. Their 
 aged and venerated mother, raised up from a sick-bed 
 by the stimulus of the glad news, was there, weeping and 
 giving thanks to God. Refreshments were prepared in 
 their sister s house for all who called, and, amid greetings 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 423 
 
 and rejoicings, tears and gladness, prayers and thanksgiv 
 ings, but without sleep, the night passed away, and the 
 morning of November 4, 1848, dawned upon them free and 
 happy. 
 
 This last spring, during the month of May, as the writer 
 has already intimated, the aged mother of the Edmondson 
 family came on to New York, and the reason of her coming 
 may be thus briefly explained. She had still one other 
 daughter, the guide and support of her feeble age, or as she 
 calls her in her own expressive language, " the last drop of 
 blood in her heart." She had also a son, twenty-one years 
 of age, still a slave on a neighboring plantation. The in 
 firm woman in whose name the estate was held was sup 
 posed to be drawing near to death, and the poor parents 
 were distressed with the fear that, in case of this event, 
 their two remaining children would be sold for the pur 
 pose of dividing the estate, and thus thrown into the 
 dreaded Southern market. No one can realize what a con 
 stant horror the slave-prisons and the slave-traders are to all 
 the unfortunate families in the vicinity. Everything for 
 which other parents look on their children with pleasure 
 and pride is to these poor souls a source of anxiety and dis 
 may, because it renders the child so much more a merchant 
 able article. 
 
 It is no wonder, therefore, that the light in Paul and 
 Milly s cottage was overshadowed by this terrible idea. 
 
 The guardians of these children had given their father a 
 written promise to sell them to him for a certain sum, and 
 by hard begging he had acquired a hundred dollars towards 
 the twelve hundred which were necessary. But he was 
 now confined to his bed with sickness. After pouring out 
 earnest prayers to the Helper of the helpless, Milly says, 
 one day she said to Paul, " I tell ye, Paul, I m going up to 
 New York myself, to see if I can t get that money." 
 
 " Paul says to me, Why, Milly dear, how can you ? 
 
424 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Ye ain t fit to be off the bed, and ye s never in the cars in 
 your life. 
 
 " Never you fear, Paul/ says I ; I shall go trusting in 
 the Lord ; and the Lord, He 11 take me, and He 11 bring 
 me, that I know. 
 
 " So I went to the cars and got a white man to put me 
 aboard ; and, sure enough, there I found two Bethel minis 
 ters ; and one set one side o me, and one set the other, all 
 the way ; and they got me my tickets, and looked after my 
 things, and did everything for me. There did n t anything 
 happen to me all the way. Sometimes, when I went to 
 set down in the sitting-rooms, people looked at me and 
 moved off so scornful ! Well, I thought, I wish the Lord 
 would give you a better mind." 
 
 Emily and Mary, who had been at school in New York 
 State, came to the city to meet their mother, and they 
 brought her directly to the Rev. Henry W. Beecher s house, 
 where the writer then was. 
 
 The writer remembers now the scene when she first 
 met this mother and daughters. It must be recollected 
 that they had not seen each other before for four years. 
 One was sitting each side the mother, holding her hand ; 
 and the air of pride and filial affection with which they pre 
 sented her was touching to behold. After being presented 
 to the writer, she again sat down between them, took 
 a hand of each, and looked very earnestly first on one and 
 then on the other ; and then, looking up, said, with a smile, 
 " Oh, these children, how they do lie round our hearts ! " 
 
 She then explained to the writer all her sorrows and 
 anxieties for the younger children. " Now, madam," she 
 says, " that man that keeps the great trading-house at Al 
 exandria, that man" she said, with a strong, indignant 
 expression, " has sent to know if there s any more of my 
 children to be sold. That man said he wanted to see me / 
 Yes, ma am, he said he d give twenty dollars to see me. I 
 
A KFA T TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 425 
 
 would n t see him, if he d give me a hundred ! He sent for 
 me to come and see him, when he had my daughters in his 
 prison. I would n t go to see him, I did n t want to see 
 them there ! " 
 
 The two daughters, Emily and Mary, here became very 
 much excited, and hroke out in some very natural hut bit 
 ter language against all slave-holders. " Hush, children ! 
 you must forgive your enemies," she said. " But they re 
 so wicked ! " said the girls. " Ah, children, you must hate 
 the sin, but love the sinner." "Well," said one of the 
 girls, " mother, if I was taken again and made a slave of, 
 I d kill myself." "I trust not, child, that would be 
 wicked." " But, mother, I should ; I know I never could 
 bear it." " Bear it, my child ? " she answered, " it s they 
 that bears the sorrow here is they that has the glories 
 there." 
 
 There was a deep, indescribable pathos of voice and 
 manner as she said these words, a solemnity and force, 
 and yet a sweetness, that can never be forgotten. 
 
 This poor slave-mother, whose whole life had been one 
 long outrage on her holiest feelings, who had been kept 
 from the power to read God s Word, whose whole pilgrim 
 age had been made one day of sorrow by the injustice of a 
 Christian nation, she had yet learned to solve the high 
 est problem of Christian ethics, and to do what so few re 
 formers can do, hate the sin, but love the sinner ! 
 
 A great deal of interest was excited among the ladies in 
 Brooklyn by this history. Several large meetings were held 
 in different parlors, in which the old mother related her 
 history with great simplicity and pathos, and a subscription 
 for the redemption of the remaining two of her family was 
 soon on foot. It may be interesting to know that the sub 
 scription list was headed by the lovely and benevolent 
 Jenny Lind Goldschmidt. 
 
 Some of the ladies who listened to this touching story 
 
42G A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 were so much interested in Mrs. Edmondson personally, 
 they wished to have her daguerreotype taken ; both that 
 they might be strengthened and refreshed by the sight of 
 her placid countenance, and that they might see the beauty 
 of true goodness beaming there. 
 
 She accordingly went to the rooms with them, with all 
 the simplicity of a little child. " Oh," said she, to one 
 of the ladies, " you can t think how happy it s made me 
 to get here, where everybody is so kind to me ! Why, last 
 night, when I went home, I was so happy I could n t sleep. 
 I had to go and tell my Saviour, over and over again, how 
 happy I was." 
 
 A lady spoke to her about reading something. " Law 
 bless you, honey ! I can t read a letter." 
 
 " Then," said another lady, " how have you learned so 
 much of God, and heavenly things ? " 
 
 " Well, pears like a gift from above." 
 
 " Can you have the Bible read to you ? " 
 
 " Why, yes ; Paul, he reads a little, but then he has 
 so much work all day, and when he gets home at night 
 he s so tired ! and his eyes is bad. But then the Sperit 
 teaches us." 
 
 " Do you go much to meeting ? " 
 
 " Not much now, we live so far. In winter I can t 
 never. But, oh ! what meetings I have had, alone in the 
 corner, my Saviour and only me ! " The smile with 
 which these words were spoken was a thing to be remem 
 bered. A little girl, daughter of one of the ladies, made 
 some rather severe remarks about somebody in the da 
 guerreotype rooms, and her mother checked her. 
 
 The old lady looked up, with her placid smile. " That 
 puts me in mind," she said, " of what I heard a preacher 
 say once. My friends, says he, if you know of any 
 thing that will make a brother s heart glad, run quick and 
 tell it ; but if it is something that will only cause a sigh, 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 427 
 
 bottle it up, bottle it up ! Oh, I often tell my children, 
 < Bottle it up, bottle it up ! " 
 
 When the writer came to part with the old lady, she 
 said to her : " Well, good-by, my dear friend ; remember 
 and pray for me." 
 
 " Pray for you ! " she said earnestly. " Indeed I shall, 
 I can t help it. 7 She then, raising her ringer, said, in 
 an emphatic tone, peculiar to the old of her race, " Tell you 
 what ! we never gets no good bread ourselves till we begins 
 to ask for our brethren." 
 
 The writer takes this opportunity to inform all those 
 friends, in different parts of the country, who generously 
 contributed for the redemption of these children, that they 
 are at last free ! 
 
 The following extract from the letter of a lady in Wash 
 ington may be interesting to them : 
 
 " I have seen the Edmondson parents, Paul and his wife 
 Milly. I have seen the free Edmondsons, mother, son, and 
 daughter, the very day after the great era of free life com 
 menced, while yet the inspiration was on them, while the 
 mother s face was all light and love, the father s eyes moistened 
 and glistening with tears, the son calm in conscious manhood 
 and responsibility, the daughter (not more than fifteen years 
 old, I think) smiling a delightful appreciation of joy in the 
 present and hope in the future, thus suddenly and completely 
 unfolded." 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 [The case of Emily Russell.] 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 KIDNAPPING 
 
428 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 SLAVES AS THEY ARE, ON TESTIMONY OF OWNERS 
 
 The investigation into the actual condition of the slave 
 population at the South is beset with many difficulties. So 
 many things are said pro and con, so many said in one 
 connection and denied in another, that the effect is very 
 confusing. 
 
 Thus, we are told that the state of the slaves is one of bliss 
 ful contentment ; that they would not take freedom as a gift ; 
 that their family relations are only now and then invaded ; 
 that they are a stupid race, almost sunk to the condition of 
 animals ; that generally they are kindly treated, etc., etc. 
 
 In reading over some two hundred Southern newspapers 
 this fall, the author has been struck with the very graphic 
 and circumstantial pictures, which occur in all of them, de 
 scribing fugitive slaves. From these descriptions one may 
 learn a vast many things. The author will here give an 
 assortment of them, taken at random. It is a commentary 
 on the contented state of the slave population that the 
 writer finds two or three always, and often many more, in 
 every one of the hundreds of Southern papers examined. 
 
 In reading the following little sketches of " slaves as 
 they are," let the reader notice : 
 
 1. The color and complexion of the majority of them. 
 
 2. That it is customary either to describe slaves by some 
 scar, or to say " No scars recollected" 
 
 3. The intelligence of the parties advertised. 
 
 4. The number that say they are free that are to be 
 sold to pay jail-fees. 
 
 Every one of these slaves has a history, a history of 
 woe and crime, degradation, endurance, and wrong. Let 
 us open the chapter : 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 429 
 
 " South-side Democrat/ 7 October 28, 1852. Petersburgh, 
 Virginia : 
 
 REWARD. 
 
 Twenty-five dollars, with the payment of all necessary ex 
 penses, will be given for the apprehension and delivery of my 
 man CHARLES, if taken on the Appomattox River, or within 
 the precincts of Petersburgh. He ran off about a week ago, 
 and if he leaves the neighborhood, will no doubt make for 
 Farmville and Petersburgh. He is a mulatto, rather below the 
 medium height and size, but well proportioned, and very active 
 and sensible. He is aged about 27 years, has a mild, submis 
 sive look, and will, no doubt, show the marks of a recent whipping, 
 if taken. He must be delivered to the care of Peebles, White, 
 Davis & Co. R. H. DE JARNETT, 
 
 Oct. 25 3t. Lunenburgh. 
 
 Poor Charles ! mulatto ! has a mild, submissive 
 look, and will probably show marks of a recent whipping ! 
 " Kosciusko Chronicle/ November 24, 1852 : 
 
 COMMITTED 
 
 To the Jail of Attila County, on the 8th instant, a negro boy, 
 who calls his name GREEN, and says he belongs to James 
 Gray, of Winston County. Said boy is about 20 years old, yel 
 low complexion, round face, lias a scar on his face, one on his left 
 thigh, and one in his left hand, is about 5 feet 6 inches high. 
 Had on when taken up a cotton check shirt, Linsey pants, new 
 cloth cap, and was riding a large roan horse about 12 or 14 
 years old and thin in order. The owner is requested to come 
 forward, prove property, pay charges, and take him away, or he 
 will be sold to pay charges. 
 
 E. B. SANDERS, Jailer A. C. 
 
 Oct. 12, 1842. n!2tf. 
 
 " Capitolian Vis-a-Vis," West Baton Eouge, November 1, 
 1852 : - 
 
 $100 REWARD. 
 
 RUNAWAY from the subscriber, in Randolph County on the 
 18th of October, a yellow boy, named JIM. This boy is 19 
 years old, a light mulatto with dirty sunburnt hair inclined to be 
 straight ; he is just 5 feet 7 inches high, and slightly made. He 
 
430 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 had on when he left a black cloth cap, black cloth pantaloons, 
 a plaided sack coat, a fine shirt, and brogan shoes. One hun 
 dred dollars will be paid for the recovery of the above-described 
 boy, if taken out of the State, or fifty dollars if taken in the 
 State. MRS. S. P. HALL. 
 
 Huntsville, Mo. 
 Nov. 4, 1852. 
 
 " American Baptist," December 20, 1852 : 
 
 TWENTY DOLLARS REWARD FOR A PREACHER. 
 
 The following paragraph, headed " Twenty Dollars Reward," 
 appeared in a recent number of the " New Orleans Picayune : " 
 
 " Run away from the plantation of the undersigned the negro 
 man Shedrick, a preacher, 5 feet 9 inches high, about 40 years 
 old, but looking not over 23, stamped N. E. on the breast, and 
 having both small toes cut ojf. He is of a very dark complexion, 
 with eyes small but bright, and a look quite insolent. He dresses 
 good, and was arrested as a runaway at Donaldsonville, some 
 three years ago. The above reward will be paid for his arrest, 
 by addressing Messrs. Armant Brothers, St. James parish, or 
 A. Miltenberger & Co., 30 Carondelet-street." 
 
 Here is a preacher who is branded on the breast and has 
 both toes cut off, and will look insolent yet ! There s 
 depravity for you ! 
 
 [More than fifty similar advertisements are added.] 
 
 From these advertisements, and hundreds of similar ones, 
 one may learn the following things : 
 
 1. That the arguments for the enslaving of the negro do 
 not apply to a large part of the actual slaves. 
 
 2. That they are not, in the estimation of their masters, 
 very stupid. 
 
 3. That they are not remarkably contented. 
 
 4. That they have no particular reason to be so. 
 
 5. That multitudes of men claiming to be free are con 
 stantly being sold into slavery. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 431 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 " POOR WHITE TRASH " 
 
 When the public sentiment of Europe speaks in tones 
 of indignation of the system of American slavery, the com 
 mon reply has been, " Look at your own lower classes" 
 The apologists of slavery have pointed England to her own 
 poor. They have spoken of the heathenish ignorance, the 
 vice, the darkness, of her crowded cities, nay, even of her 
 agricultural districts. 
 
 Now, in the first place, a country where the population 
 is not crowded, where the resources of the soil are more 
 than sufficient for the inhabitants, a country of recent 
 origin, not burdened with the worn-out institutions and 
 clumsy lumber of past ages, ought not to be satisfied to 
 do only as well as countries which have to struggle against 
 all these evils. 
 
 It is a poor defense for America to say to older countries, 
 "We are no worse than you are." She ought to be infi 
 nitely better. 
 
 But it will appear that the institution of slavery has 
 produced not only heathenish, degraded, miserable slaves, 
 but it produces a class of white people who are, by universal 
 admission, more heathenish, degraded, and miserable. The 
 institution of slavery has accomplished the double feat, in 
 America, not only of degrading and brutalizing her black 
 working classes, but of producing, notwithstanding a fertile 
 soil and abundant room, a poor white population as de 
 graded and brutal as ever existed in any of the most crowded 
 districts of Europe. 
 
 The way that it is done can be made apparent in a few 
 words. 1. The distribution of the land into large planta 
 tions, and the consequent sparseness of settlement, make any 
 
432 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 system of common-school education impracticable. 2. The 
 same cause operates with regard to the preaching of the 
 gospel. 3. The degradation of the idea of labor, which 
 results inevitably from enslaving the working class, operates 
 to a great extent in preventing respectable workingmen of 
 the middling classes from settling or remaining in slave 
 States. Where carpenters, blacksmiths, and masons are 
 advertised every week with their own tools, or in company 
 with horses, hogs, and other cattle, there is necessarily such 
 an estimate of the laboring class that intelligent, self-respect 
 ing mechanics, such as abound in the free States, must find 
 much that is annoying and disagreeable. They may endure 
 it for a time, but with much uneasiness ; and they are glad 
 of the first opportunity of emigration. 
 
 Then, again, the filling up of all branches of mechanics and 
 agriculture with slave labor necessarily depresses free labor. 
 Suppose, now, a family of poor whites in Carolina or Vir 
 ginia, and the same family in Vermont or Maine ; how 
 different the influences that come over them ! In Vermont 
 or Maine, the children have the means of education at hand 
 in public schools, and they have all around them in society 
 avenues of success that require only industry to make them 
 available. The boys have their choice among all the differ 
 ent trades, for which the organization of free society makes a 
 steady demand. The girls, animated by the spirit of the 
 land in which they are born, think useful labor no disgrace, 
 and find, with true female ingenuity, a hundred ways of 
 adding to the family stock. If there be one member of a 
 family in whom diviner gifts and higher longings seem a 
 call for a more finished course of education, then cheerfully 
 the whole family unites its productive industry to give that 
 one the wider education which his wider genius demands ; 
 and thus have been given to the world such men as Roger 
 Sherman and Daniel Webster. 
 
 But take this same family and plant them in South 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 433 
 
 Carolina or Virginia how different the result ! No com 
 mon school opens its doors to their children ; the only 
 church, perhaps, is fifteen miles off, over a bad road. The 
 whole atmosphere of the country in which they are born 
 associates degradation and slavery with useful labor; and 
 the only standard of gentility is ability to live without 
 work. What branch of useful labor opens a way to its 
 sons ? Would he be a blacksmith ? The planters around 
 him prefer to buy their blacksmiths in Virginia. Would 
 he be a carpenter ? Each planter in his neighborhood 
 owns one or two now. And so coopers and masons. 
 Would he be a shoemaker ? The plantation shoes are 
 made in Lynn and Natick, towns of New England. In 
 fact, between the free labor of the North and the slave 
 labor of the South, there is nothing for a poor white to do. 
 Without schools or churches, these miserable families grow 
 up heathen on a Christian soil, in idleness, vice, dirt, and 
 discomfort of all sorts. They are the pest of the neighbor 
 hood, the scoff and contempt, or pity even of the slaves. 
 The expressive phrase, so common in the mouths of the 
 negroes, of " poor white trash, 7 says all for this luckless 
 race of beings that can be said. From this class spring a 
 tribe of keepers of small groggeries, and dealers, by a kind 
 of contraband trade, with the negroes, in the stolen produce 
 of plantations. Thriving and promising sons may perhaps 
 hope to grow up into negro-traders, and thence be exalted 
 into overseers of plantations. The utmost stretch of am 
 bition is to compass money enough, by any of a variety 
 of nondescript measures, to " buy a nigger or two," and 
 begin to appear like other folks. Woe betide the unfortu 
 nate negro man or woman, carefully raised in some good, 
 religious family, when an execution or the death of their 
 proprietors throws them into the market, and they are 
 bought by a master and mistress of this class ! Oftentimes 
 the slave is infinitely the superior, in every respect, in 
 
434 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 person, manners, education, and morals ; but, for all that, 
 the law guards the despotic authority of the owner quite as 
 jealously. 
 
 From all that would appear, in the case of Souther, 
 which we have recorded, he must have been one of this 
 class. We have certain indications, in the evidence, that 
 the two white witnesses, who spent the whole day in gaping, 
 unresisting survey of his diabolical proceedings, were men 
 of this order. It appears that the crime alleged against 
 the poor victim was that of getting drunk and trading with 
 these two very men, and that they were sent for probably 
 by way of showing them " what a nigger would get by 
 trading with them." This circumstance at once marks 
 them out as belonging to that band of half-contraband 
 traders who spring up among the mean whites, and occasion 
 owners of slaves so much inconvenience by dealing with 
 their hands. Can any words so forcibly show what sort of 
 white men these are, as the idea of their standing in stupid, 
 brutal curiosity, a whole day, as witnesses in such a hellish 
 scene ? 
 
 Conceive the misery of the slave who falls into the hands 
 of such masters ! A clergyman, now dead, communicated 
 to the writer the following anecdote : In traveling in one of 
 the Southern States, he put up for the night in a miserable 
 log shanty, kept by a man of this class. All was dirt, dis 
 comfort, and utter barbarism. The man, his wife, and their 
 stock of wild, neglected children, drank whiskey, loafed, and 
 predominated over the miserable man and woman who did 
 all the work and bore all the caprices of the whole estab 
 lishment. He the gentleman was not long in discover 
 ing that these slaves were in person, language, and in every 
 respect, superior to their owners ; and all that he could get 
 of comfort in this miserable abode was owing to their min 
 istrations. Before he went away, they contrived to have 
 a private interview, and begged him to buy them. They 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 435 
 
 told him that they had been decently brought up in a 
 respectable and refined family, and that their bondage 
 was therefore the more inexpressibly galling. The poor 
 creatures had waited on him with most assiduous care, 
 tending his horse, brushing his boots, and anticipating all 
 his wants, in the hope of inducing him to buy them. The 
 clergyman said that he never so wished for money as when 
 he saw the dejected visages with which they listened to 
 his assurances that he was too poor to comply with their 
 desires. 
 
 This miserable class of whites form, in all the Southern 
 States, a material for the most horrible and ferocious of 
 mobs. Utterly ignorant, and inconceivably brutal, they 
 are like some blind, savage monster, which, when aroused, 
 tramples heedlessly over everything in its way. 
 
 Singular as it may appear, though slavery is the cause of 
 the misery and degradation of this class, yet they are the 
 most vehement and ferocious advocates of slavery. 
 
 The reason is this. They feel the scorn of the upper 
 classes, and their only means of consolation is in having a 
 class below them, whom they may scorn in turn. To set 
 the negro at liberty would deprive them of this last com 
 fort ; and accordingly no class of men advocate slavery with 
 such frantic and unreasoning violence, or hate abolitionists 
 with such demoniac hatred. Let the reader conceive of a 
 mob of men as brutal and callous as the two white wit 
 nesses of the Souther tragedy, led on by men like Souther 
 himself, and he will have some idea of the materials which 
 occur in the worst kind of Southern mobs. 
 
 The leaders of the community, those men who play on 
 other men with as little care for them as a harper plays on 
 a harp, keep this blind, furious monster of the MOB, very 
 much as an overseer keeps plantation-dogs, as creatures to 
 be set on to any man or thing whom they may choose to 
 have put down. 
 
436 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 These leading men have used the cry of " abolitionism " 
 over the mob, much as a huntsman uses the " set on " to 
 his dogs. Whenever they have a purpose to carry, a man 
 to put down, they have only to raise this cry, and the 
 monster is wide awake, ready to spring wherever they shall 
 send him. 
 
 Does a minister raise his voice in favor of the slave ? 
 Immediately, with a whoop and hurrah, some editor starts 
 the mob on him, as an abolitionist. Is there a man teach 
 ing his negroes to read ? The mob is started upon him : 
 he must promise to give it up, or leave the State. Does a 
 man at a public hotel-table express his approbation of some 
 anti-slavery work ? Up come the police, and arrest him 
 for seditious language ; a and on the heels of the police, 
 thronging round the justice s office, come the ever-ready 
 mob, men with clubs and bowie-knives, swearing that 
 they will have his heart s blood. The more respectable 
 citizens in vain try to compose them ; it is quite as hopeful 
 to reason with a pack of hounds, and the only way is to 
 smuggle the suspected person out of the State as quickly as 
 possible. All these are scenes of common occurrence at the 
 South. Every Southern man knows them to be so, and 
 they know, too, the reason why they are so ; but so much 
 do they fear the monster that they dare not say what they 
 know. 
 
 1 The writer is describing here a scene of recent occurrence in a slave 
 State, of whose particulars she has the best means of knowledge. The 
 work in question was Uncle Tom s Cabin. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 437 
 
 PAET IV 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF THE AMERICAN CHURCH ON SLAVERY 
 
 THERE is no country in the world where the religious 
 influence has a greater ascendency than in America. There 
 is no country where the clergy are more powerful. This is 
 the more remarkable, because in America religion is entirely 
 divorced from the state, and the clergy have none of those 
 artificial means for supporting their influence which result 
 from rank and wealth. Taken as a body of men, the 
 American clergy are generally poor. The salaries given to 
 them afford only a bare support, and yield them no means 
 of acquiring property. Their style of living can be barely 
 decent and respectable, and no more. The fact that, under 
 these circumstances, the American clergy are probably the 
 most powerful body of men in the country, is of itself a 
 strong presumptive argument in their favor. It certainly 
 argues in them, as a class, both intellectual and moral 
 superiority. 
 
 It is a well-known fact that the influence of the clergy is 
 looked upon by our statesmen as a most serious element in 
 making up their political combinations ; and that that 
 influence is so great that no statesman would ever undertake 
 to carry a measure against which all the clergy of the country 
 should unite. Such a degree of power, though it be only^a 
 power of opinion, argument, and example, is not without its 
 dangers to the purity of any body of men. To be courted 
 by political partisans is always a dangerous thing for the 
 integrity and spirituality of men who profess to be governed 
 
438 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 by principles which are not of this world. The possession, 
 too, of so great a power as we have described involves a 
 most weighty responsibility since, if the clergy do possess 
 the power to rectify any great national immorality, the fact 
 of its not being done seems in some sort to bring the sin 
 of the omission to their door. 
 
 We have spoken, thus far, of the clergy alone ; but in 
 America, where the clergyman is, in most denominations, 
 elected by the church, and supported by its voluntary 
 contributions, the influence of the church and that of the 
 clergy are, to a very great extent, identical. The clergyman 
 is the very ideal and expression of the church. They choose 
 him, and retain him, because he expresses more perfectly 
 than any other man they can obtain, their ideas of truth and 
 right. The clergyman is supported, in all cases, by his 
 church, or else he cannot retain his position in it. The 
 fact of his remaining there is generally proof of identity of 
 opinion, since, if he differed very materially from them, they 
 have the power to withdraw from him, and choose another. 
 
 The influence of a clergyman, thus retained by the free 
 consent of the understanding and heart of his church, is in 
 some respects greater even than that of a papal priest. 
 The priest can control only by a blind spiritual authority, 
 to which, very often, the reason demurs, while it yields an 
 outward assent ; but the successful free minister takes 
 captive the affections of the heart by his affections, overrules 
 the reasoning powers by superior strength of reason, and 
 thus, availing himself of affection, reason, conscience, and 
 the entire man, possesses a power, from the very freedom 
 of the organization, greater than can ever result from blind 
 spiritual despotism. If a minister cannot succeed in doing 
 this to some good extent in a church, he is called unsuccess 
 ful ; and he who realizes this description most perfectly has 
 the highest and most perfect kind of power, and expresses 
 the idea of a successful American minister. 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 439 
 
 In speaking, therefore, of this subject, we shall speak of 
 the church and the clergy as identical, using the word church 
 in the American sense of the word, for that class of men, of 
 all denominations, who are organized in bodies distinct from 
 nominal Christians, as professing to be actually controlled 
 by the precepts of Christ. 
 
 What, then, is the influence of the church on this great 
 question of slavery ? 
 
 Certain things are evident on the very face of the matter. 
 
 1. It has not put an end to it. 
 
 2. It has not prevented the increase of it. 
 
 3. It has not occasioned the repeal of the laws which 
 forbid education to the slave. 
 
 4. It has not attempted to have laws passed forbidding 
 the separation of families, and legalizing the marriage of 
 slaves. 
 
 5. It has not stopped the internal slave-trade. 
 
 6. It has not prevented the extension of this system, 
 with all its wrongs, over new territories. 
 
 With regard to these assertions it is presumed there can 
 be no difference of opinion. 
 What, then, have they done ? 
 In reply to this, it can be stated, 
 
 1. That almost every one of the leading denominations 
 have, at some time, in their collective capacity, expressed a 
 decided disapprobation of the system, and recommended that 
 something should be done with a view to its abolition. 
 
 2. One denomination of Christians has pursued such a 
 course as entirely, and in fact, to free every one of its 
 members from any participation in slave-holding. We refer 
 to the Quakers. The course by which this result has been 
 effected will be shown by a pamphlet soon to be issued by 
 the poet J. G. Whittier, one of their own body. 
 
 3. Individual members, in all denominations, animated 
 by the spirit of Christianity, have in various ways entered 
 their protest against it. 
 
440 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 It will be well now to consider more definitely and 
 minutely the sentiments which some leading ecclesiastical 
 bodies in the church have expressed on this subject. 
 
 It is fair that the writer should state the sources from 
 which the quotations are drawn. Those relating to the 
 action of Southern judicatories are principally from a 
 pamphlet compiled by the Hon. James G-. Birney, and 
 entitled "The Church the Bulwark of Slavery." The 
 writer addressed a letter to Mr. Birney, in which she 
 inquired the sources from which he compiled. His reply 
 was, in substance, as follows : That the pamphlet was com 
 piled from original documents, or files of newspapers, which 
 had recorded these transactions at the time of their occur 
 rence. It was compiled and published in England, in 1842, 
 with a view of leading the people there to understand the 
 position of the American church and clergy. Mr. Birney 
 says that, although the statements have long been before 
 the world, he has never known one of them to be disputed ; 
 that, knowing the extraordinary nature of the sentiments, 
 he took the utmost pains to authenticate them. 
 
 These things sufficiently show the estimate which the 
 Southern clergy and church have formed and expressed as 
 to the relative value of slavery and the right of free in 
 quiry. It shows, also, that they consider slavery as so 
 important that they can tolerate and encourage acts of law 
 less violence, and risk all the dangers of encouraging mob 
 law, for its sake. These passages and considerations suf 
 ficiently show the stand which the Southern church takes 
 upon this subject. 
 
 For many of these opinions, shocking as they may ap 
 pear, some apology may be found in that blinding power of 
 custom and all those deadly educational influences which 
 always attend the system of slavery, and which must neces 
 sarily produce a certain obtuseness of the moral sense in 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 441 
 
 the mind of any man who is educated from childhood under 
 them. 
 
 There is also, in the habits of mind formed under a 
 system which is supported by continual resort to force and 
 violence, a necessary deadening of sensibility to the evils 
 of force and violence, as applied to other subjects. The 
 whole style of civilization which is formed under such an 
 institution has been not unaptly denominated by a popular 
 writer " the bowie-knife style ; " and we must not be sur 
 prised at its producing a peculiarly martial cast of religious 
 character, and ideas very much at variance with the spirit 
 of the gospel. A religious man, born and educated at the 
 South, has all these difficulties to contend with, in elevating 
 himself to the true spirit of the gospel. 
 
 It was said by one that, after the Reformation, the best 
 of men, being educated under a system of despotism and 
 force, and accustomed from childhood to have force, and not 
 argument, made the test of opinion, came to look upon all 
 controversies very much in a Smithfield light, - the ques 
 tion being not as to the propriety of burning heretics, but 
 as to which party ought to be burned. 
 
 The system of slavery is a simple retrogression of society 
 to the worst abuses of the Middle Ages. We must not 
 therefore be surprised to find the opinions and practices of 
 the Middle Ages, as to civil and religious toleration, pre 
 vailing. 
 
 But now another consideration comes to the mind. These 
 Southern Christians have been united in ecclesiastical rela 
 tions with Christians of the Northern and free States, meet 
 ing with them, by their representatives, yearly, in their 
 various ecclesiastical assemblies. One might hope, in case 
 of such a union, that those debasing views of Christianity, 
 and that deadness of public sentiment, which were the in 
 evitable result of an education under the slave -system, 
 
442 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 might have been qualified by intercourse with Christians in 
 free States, who, having grown up under free institutions, 
 would naturally be supposed to feel the utmost abhorrence 
 of such sentiments. One would have supposed that the 
 church and clergy of the free States would naturally have 
 used the most strenuous endeavors, by all the means in 
 their power, to convince their brethren of errors so dis 
 honorable to Christianity, and tending to such dreadful prac 
 tical results. One would have supposed also, that, failing 
 to convince their brethren, they would have felt it due to 
 Christianity to clear themselves from all complicity with 
 these sentiments, by the most solemn, earnest, and reiterated 
 protests. 
 
 Let us now inquire what has, in fact been the course of 
 the Northern church on this subject. 
 
 Previous to making this inquiry, let us review the decla 
 rations that have been made in the Southern church, and 
 see what principles have been established by them. 
 
 1. That slavery is an innocent and lawful relation, as 
 much as that of parent and child, husband and wife, or 
 any other lawful relation of society. (Harmony Pres., 
 S. C.) 
 
 2. That it is consistent with the most fraternal regard 
 for the good of the slave. (Charleston Union Pres., S. C.) 
 
 3. That masters ought not to be disciplined for selling 
 slaves without their consent. (Xew-school Pres. Church, 
 Petersburgh, Va.) 
 
 4. That the right to buy, sell, and hold men for purposes 
 of gain, was given by express permission of God. (James 
 Smylie and his Presbyteries.) 
 
 5. That the laws which forbid the education of the slave 
 are right, and meet the approbation of the reflecting part of 
 the Christian community. (Ibid.) 
 
 6. That the fact of slavery is not a question of morals at 
 all, but is purely one of political economy. (Charleston 
 Baptist Association.) 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 443 
 
 7. The right of masters to dispose of the time of their 
 slaves has been distinctly recognized by the Creator of all 
 things. (Ibid.) 
 
 8. That slavery, as it exists in these United States, is 
 not a moral evil. (Georgia Conference, Methodist.) 
 
 9. That, without a new revelation from heaven, no man 
 is entitled to pronounce slavery wrong. 
 
 10. That the separation of slaves by sale should be 
 regarded as separation by death, and the parties allowed to 
 marry again. (Shiloh Baptist Ass., and Savannah River 
 Ass.) 
 
 11. That the testimony of colored members of the 
 churches shall not be taken against a white person. 
 (Methodist Church.) 
 
 In addition, it has been plainly avowed, by the expressed 
 principles and practice of Christians of various denomina 
 tions, that they regard it right and proper to put down all 
 inquiry upon this subject by Lynch law. 
 
 One would have imagined that these principles were 
 sufficiently extraordinary, as coming from the professors of 
 the religion of Christ, to have excited a good deal of atten 
 tion in their Northern brethren. It also must be seen that, 
 as principles, they are principles of very extensive appli 
 cation, underlying the whole foundations of religion and 
 morality. If not true, they were certainly heresies of no 
 ordinary magnitude, involving no ordinary results. Let us 
 now return to our inquiry as to the course of the Northern 
 church in relation to them. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 In the first place, have any of these opinions ever been 
 treated in the church as heresies, and the teachers of them 
 been subjected to the censures with which it is thought 
 proper to visit heresy ? 
 
444 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 After a somewhat extended examination upon the sub 
 ject, the writer has been able to discover but one instance 
 of this sort. It may be possible that such cases have 
 existed in other denominations, which have escaped in 
 quiry. 
 
 If the history of the action of all the bodies thus united 
 can be traced downwards, we shall find that, by reason of 
 this tolerance of an admitted sin, the anti-slavery testimony 
 has every year grown weaker and weaker. If we look over 
 the history of all denominations, we shall see that at first 
 they used very stringent language with relation to slavery. 
 This is particularly the case with the Methodist and Pres 
 byterian bodies. 
 
 In 1850 was passed the cruel fugitive slave law. What 
 deeds were done then ! Then to our free States were trans 
 ported those scenes of fear and agony before acted only on 
 slave soil. Churches were broken up. Trembling Chris 
 tians fled. Husbands and wives were separated. Then to 
 the poor African was fulfilled the dread doom denounced on 
 the wandering Jew, " Thou shalt find no ease, neither 
 shall the sole of thy foot have rest ; but thy life shall hang 
 in doubt before thee, and thou shalt fear day and night, and 
 shalt have no assurance of thy life." Then all the world 
 went one way, all the wealth, all the power, all the fash 
 ion. Now, if ever, was a time for Christ s church to stand 
 up and speak for the poor. 
 
 The General Assembly met. She was earnestly memo 
 rialized to speak out. Never was a more glorious oppor 
 tunity to show that the kingdom of Christ is not of this 
 world. A protest then, from a body so numerous and 
 respectable, might have saved the American church from the 
 disgrace it now wears in the eyes of all nations. Oh, that 
 she had once spoken ! What said the Presbyterian Church ? 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 445 
 
 She said nothing, and the thanks of political leaders were 
 accorded to her. She had done all they desired. 
 
 Meanwhile, under this course of things, the number of 
 presbyteries in slave-holding States had increased from three 
 to twenty ! and this church has now under its care from 
 fifteen to twenty thousand members in slave States. 
 
 So much for the course of a decided anti- slavery body in 
 union with a few slave-holding churches. So much for a 
 most discreet, judicious, charitable, and brotherly attempt 
 to test by experience the question, What communion hath 
 light with darkness, and what concord hath Christ with Be 
 lial ? The slave-system is darkness, the slave-system is 
 Belial ! and every attempt to harmonize it with the profes 
 sion of Christianity will be just like these. Let it be here 
 recorded, however, that a small body of the most determined 
 opponents of slavery in the Presbyterian Church seceded 
 and formed the Free Presbyterian Church, whose terms of 
 communion are an entire withdrawal from slave-holding. 
 Whether this principle be a correct one, or not, it is worthy 
 of remark that it was adopted and carried out by the 
 Quakers, the only body of Christians involved in this 
 evil who have ever succeeded in freeing themselves from it. 
 
 Who is the real, who is the true and noble lover of the 
 South ? they who love her with all these faults and in- 
 cumbrances, or they who fix their eyes on the bright ideal 
 of what she might be, and say that these faults are no proper 
 part of her ? Is it true love to a friend to accept the rav 
 ings of insanity as a true specimen of his mind ? Is it true 
 love to accept the disfigurement of sickness as a specimen 
 of his best condition ? Is it not truer love to say, " This 
 curse is no part of our brother ; it dishonors him ; it does 
 him injustice ; it misrepresents him in the eyes of all na 
 tions. We love his better self, and we will have no fellow 
 ship with his betrayer. This is the part of true, generous, 
 Christian love." 
 
446 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 But will it be said, " The abolition enterprise was begun 
 in a wrong spirit, by reckless, meddling, impudent fanatics " ? 
 Well, supposing that this were true, how came it to be so ? 
 If the church of Christ had begun it right, these so-called 
 fanatics would not have begun it wrong. In a deadly pes 
 tilence, if the right physicians do not prescribe, everybody 
 will prescribe, men, women, and children will prescribe, 
 because something must be done. If the Presbyterian 
 Church in 1818 had pursued the course the Quakers did, 
 there never would have been any fanaticism. The Quakers 
 did all by brotherly love. They melted the chains of Mam 
 mon only in the fires of a divine charity. When Christ 
 came into Jerusalem, after all the mighty works that he had 
 done, while all the so-called better classes were non-com 
 mittal or opposed, the multitude cut down branches of palm- 
 trees and cried Hosanna ! There was a most indecorous 
 tumult. The very children caught the enthusiasm, and 
 were crying Hosannas in the temple. This was contrary to 
 all ecclesiastical rules. It was a highly improper state of 
 things. The Chief Priests and Scribes said unto Jesus, 
 " Master, speak unto these that they hold their peace." 
 That gentle eye flashed as He answered, " I TELL YOU, IF 
 
 THESE SHOULD HOLD THEIR PEACE, THE VERY STONES 
 WOULD CRY OUT." 
 
 Suppose a fire bursts out in the streets of Boston, while 
 the regular conservators of the city, who have the keys of 
 the fire-engines, and the regulation of fire-companies, are 
 sitting together in some distant part of the city, consulting 
 for the public good. The cry of fire reaches them, but they 
 think it a false alarm. The fire is no less real, for all that. 
 It burns, and rages, and roars, till everybody in the neigh 
 borhood sees that something must be done. A few stout 
 leaders break open the doors of the engine-houses, drag out 
 the engines, and begin, regularly or irregularly, playing on 
 the fire. But the destroyer still advances. Messengers 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 447 
 
 come in hot haste to the hall of these deliberators, and, in 
 the unselect language of fear and terror, revile them for not 
 coming out. 
 
 " Bless me ! " says a decorous leader of the hody, " what 
 horrible language these men use ! " 
 
 " They show a very bad spirit/ remarks another ; " we 
 can t possibly join them in such a state of things." 
 
 Here the more energetic members of the body rush out, 
 to see if the thing be really so ; and in a few minutes come 
 back, if possible more earnest than the others. 
 
 "Oh, there is a fire ! a horrible, dreadful fire! The 
 city is burning, men, women, children, all burning, per 
 ishing ! Come out, come out ! As the Lord liveth, there 
 is but a step between us and death ! " 
 
 " I am not going out ; everybody that goes gets crazy," 
 says one. 
 
 " I ve noticed," says another, " that as soon as anybody 
 goes out to look, he gets just so excited, I won t look." 
 
 But by this time the angry fire has burned into their very 
 neighborhood. The red demon glares into their windows. 
 And now, fairly aroused, they get up and begin to look out. 
 
 " Well, there is a fire, and no mistake ! " says one. 
 
 " Something ought to be done," says another. 
 
 " Yes," says a third ; " if it was n t for being mixed up 
 with such a crowd and rabble of folks, I d go out." 
 
 " Upon my word," says another, " there are women 
 in the ranks, carrying pails of water ! There, one woman 
 is going up a ladder to get those children out. What an 
 indecorum ! If they d manage this matter properly, we 
 would join them." 
 
 And now come lumbering over from Charlestown the 
 engines and fire-companies. 
 
 " What impudence of Charlestown," say these men, " to 
 be sending over here, just as if we could not put our own 
 fires out ! They have fires over there, as much as we do." 
 
448 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 And now the flames roar and burn, and shake hands 
 across the streets. They leap over the steeples, and glare 
 demoniacally out of the church windows. 
 
 " For Heaven s sake, DO SOMETHING ! " is the cry. 
 " Pull down the houses ! Blow up those blocks of stores 
 with gunpowder ! Anything to stop it." 
 
 " See, now, what ultra, radical measures they are going 
 at," says one of these spectators. 
 
 Brave men, who have rushed into the thickest of the fire, 
 come out, and fall dead in the street. 
 
 " They are impracticable enthusiasts. They have thrown 
 their lives away in foolhardiness," says another. 
 
 So, church of Christ, burns that awful fire ! Evermore 
 burning, burning, burning, over church and altar ; burning 
 over senate house and forum ; burning up liberty, burning 
 up religion ! No earthly hands kindled that fire. From 
 its sheeted flame and wreaths of sulphurous smoke glares 
 out upon thee the eye of that ENEMY who was a murderer 
 from the beginning. It is a fire that BURNS TO THE LOW 
 EST HELL ! 
 
 Church of Christ, there u-a.s an hour when this fire might 
 have been extinguished by thee. Now, thou standest like 
 a mighty man astonished, like a mighty man that cannot 
 save. But the Hope of Israel is not dead. The Saviour 
 thereof in time of trouble is yet alive. 
 
 If every church in our land were hung with mourning, 
 if every Christian should put on sackcloth, if " the priest 
 should weep between the porch and the altar," and say, 
 " Spare thy people, Lord, and give not thy heritage to 
 reproach ! " that were not too great a mourning for such 
 a time as this. 
 
 Oh, church of Jesus ! consider what hath been said in the 
 midst of thee. What a heresy hast thou tolerated in thy 
 bosom ! Thy God the defender of slavery ! thy God the 
 patron of slave-law ! Thou hast suffered the character of 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 449 
 
 thy God to be slandered. Thou hast suffered false witness 
 against thy Redeemer and thy Sanctifier. The Holy Trinity 
 of heaven has been foully traduced in the midst of thee ; 
 and that God whose throne is awful in justice has been 
 made the patron and leader of oppression. 
 
 CHAPTER HI 
 
 MARTYRDOM 
 
 [The case of Lovejoy.] 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 SERVITUDE IN THE PRIMITIVE CHURCH COMPARED 
 WITH AMERICAN SLAVERY 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TEACHINGS AND CONDITION OF THE APOSTLES 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 APOSTOLIC TEACHING ON EMANCIPATION 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 ABOLITION OF SLAVERY BY CHRISTIANITY 
 
450 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 JUSTICE AND EQUITY VERSUS SLAVERY 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 IS THE SYSTEM OF RELIGION WHICH IS TAUGHT THE 
 SLAVE THE GOSPEL ? 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 WHAT IS TO BE DONE ? 
 
 The thing to be done, of which I shall chiefly speak, 
 is that the whole American church, of all denominations, 
 should unitedly come up, not in form, but in fact, to the 
 noble purpose avowed by the Presbyterian Assembly of 1818, 
 to seek the ENTIRE ABOLITION OF SLAVERY THROUGHOUT 
 AMERICA AND THROUGHOUT CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 Brethren in the South, there are many of you who are 
 truly convinced that slavery is a sin, a tremendous wrong ; 
 but if you confess your sentiments, and endeavor to propa 
 gate your opinions, you think that persecution, affliction, 
 and even death await you. How can we ask you, then, to 
 come forward ? We do not ask it. Ourselves weak, ir 
 resolute and worldly, shall we ask you to do what perhaps 
 we ourselves should not dare ? But we will beseech Him 
 to speak to you, who dared and endured more than this foi 
 your sake, and who can strengthen you to dare and endure 
 for his. He can raise you above all temporary and worldly 
 considerations. He can inspire you with that love to him- 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 451 
 
 self which will make you willing to leave father and mother, 
 and wife and child, yea, to give up life itself, for his sake. 
 And if He ever brings you to that place where you and this 
 world take a final farewell of each other, where you make 
 up your mind solemnly to give all up for his cause, where 
 neither life nor death, nor things present nor things to come, 
 can move you from this purpose, then will you know a 
 joy which is above all other joy, a peace constant and un 
 changing as the eternal God from whom it springs. 
 
 Dear brethren, is this system to go on forever in your 
 land ? Can you think these slave-laws anything but an 
 abomination to a just God ? Can you think this inter 
 nal slave-trade to be anything but an abomination in his 
 sight ? 
 
 Look, we beseech you, into those awful slave-prisons 
 which are in your cities. Do the groans and prayers which 
 go up from those dreary mansions promise well for the pros 
 perity of our country ? 
 
 Look, we beseech you, at this mournful march of the 
 slave-coffles ; follow the bloody course of the slave-ships on 
 your coast. What, suppose you, does the Lamb of God 
 think of all these things ? He whose heart was so tender 
 that he wept, at the grave of Lazarus, over a sorrow that He 
 was so soon to turn into joy, what does He think of the 
 constant, heart-breaking, yearly repeated anguish ? What 
 does he think of Christian wives forced from their husbands, 
 and husbands from their wives ? What does he think 
 of Christian daughters, whom his church first educates, in 
 doctrinates, and baptizes, and then leaves to be sold as mer 
 chandise ? 
 
 Think you such prayers as poor Paul Edmondson s, such 
 death-bed scenes as Emily EusselFs, are witnessed without 
 emotion by that generous Saviour, who regards what is done 
 to his meanest servant as done to himself ? 
 
 Did it never seem to you, Christian, when you have 
 
452 A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 read the sufferings of Jesus, that you would gladly have 
 suffered with Him ? Does it never seem almost ungenerous 
 to accept eternal life as the price of such anguish on his 
 part, while you bear no cross for Him ? Have you ever 
 wished you could have watched with Him in that bitter con 
 flict at Gethsemane, when even his chosen slept ? Have 
 you ever wished that you could have stood by Him when 
 all forsook Him and fled, that you could have owned 
 when Peter denied, that you could have honored Him 
 when buffeted and spit upon ? Would you think it too 
 much honor, could you, like Mary, have followed Him to 
 the cross, and stood a patient sharer of that despised, un- 
 pitied agony ? That you cannot do. That hour is over. 
 Christ, now, is exalted, crowned, glorified, all men speak 
 well of Him ; rich churches rise to Him, and costly sacrifice 
 goes up to Him. What chance have you, among the multi 
 tude, to prove your love, to show that you would stand 
 by Him discrowned, dishonored, tempted, betrayed, and suf 
 fering ? Can you show it in any way but by espousing the 
 cause of his suffering poor ? Is there a people among you 
 despised and rejected of men, heavy with oppression, 
 acquainted with grief, with all the power of wealth and 
 fashion, of political and worldly influence, arrayed against 
 their cause, Christian, you can acknowledge Christ in 
 them ! 
 
 If you turn away indifferent from this cause, " if thou 
 forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and those 
 that be ready to be slain ; if thou sayest, Behold, we knew 
 it not, doth not he that pondereth the heart consider it, and 
 he that keepeth the soul, doth he not know it, shall he not 
 render to every man according to his works ? " 
 
 In the last judgment will He not say to you, " I have 
 been in the slave-prison, in the slave-coffle. I have been 
 sold in your markets ; I have toiled for naught in your 
 fields ; I have been smitten on the mouth in your courts of 
 
A KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN 453 
 
 justice ; I have been denied a hearing in my own church, 
 and ye cared not for it. Ye went, one to his farm, and 
 another to his merchandise." And if ye shall answer, 
 " When, Lord ? " He shall say unto you, " Inasmuch as 
 ye have done it to the least of these, my brethren, ye have 
 done it unto me." 
 
BIBLIOGEAPHICAL ACCOUNT OF UNCLE 
 TOM S CABIN. 
 
 [This account was first published in the edition of the book 
 for which Mrs. Stowe s Introduction was written, in 1878. 
 Later researches have brought to light further titles, and these 
 additions are indicated by being inclosed in brackets [ ]. The 
 opportunity has also been taken to revise and correct the origi 
 nal list.] 
 
 BKITISH MUSEUM, September 14, 1878. 
 
 DEAR SIRS, I well remember the interest which the late 
 Mr. Thomas Watts took in the story of " Uncle Tom s Cabin," 
 from the moment that he had read it. Mr. Watts, besides 
 being an accomplished philologist and one of the greatest lin 
 guists that ever lived, never neglected the current literature of 
 his time, including the novels and romances of his own coun 
 try and America. Scott and Dickens, Washington Irving and 
 Fenimore Cooper charmed him more than the dull books 
 which great scholars are commonly supposed to be always read 
 ing. In Mrs. Beecher Stowe s work he admired not only the 
 powerful descriptions of life in the Slave States, the strokes of 
 character, the humor and the pathos, but above all he was im 
 pressed with the deep earnestness of purpose in the writer, and 
 used to express it as his opinion that it was a work destined 
 to prove a most powerful agent in the uprooting of slavery in 
 America. No one in this country was better acquainted than 
 Mr. Watts with the politics of the United States ; and in the 
 war which eventually ensued on the subject of slavery, between 
 the Northern and Southern States, he was always a consistent 
 supporter of the policy of President Lincoln. 
 
 Of the reasons which induced him to prevail upon Mr. (now 
 Sir Anthony) Panizzi to make a collection for the Library of 
 the British Museum of the different translations of " Uncle 
 Tom s Cabin," the extracts given from his letter to Professor 
 Stowe are a sufficient explanation. 
 
456 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 At your desire I have the pleasure to forward to you, as a sup 
 plement to Mr. Watts s letter, the accompanying list of editions 
 and translations of "Uncle Tom s Cabin," contained in the 
 Library of the British Museum, as well as of others which 
 have not yet been obtained. Of the latter there is a Servian 
 translation which has been ordered but not yet received. 
 
 When this shall have been added, the various languages into 
 which " Uncle Tom s Cabin " has been translated will be ex 
 actly twenty in number, a copy of each being in the British 
 Museum. These several languages, in alphabetical order, are 
 as follows : viz., Armenian, Bohemian, Danish, Dutch, Fin 
 nish, Flemish (only a modification of Dutch, but often treated 
 as a distinct language), French, German, Hungarian or Magyar, 
 Illyrian (by Mr. Watts called Wendish), Polish, Portuguese, Ro 
 maic or Modern Greek, Russian, Servian, Spanish, Swedish, 
 Wallachian, Welsh. 
 
 There may still be translations in other languages, of which 
 sure intelligence has not yet been obtained. 
 
 In some of the languages mentioned, as, for instance, in 
 French and German, there are several distinct versions. A 
 summary of these is given at the end of the general Biblio 
 graphical List herewith appended. 
 
 I remain, dear sirs, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 GEORGE BULLEN. 
 
 MESSRS. HOUGHTON, OSGOOD & Co. 
 
 The letter of Mr. Watts to which Mr. Bullen refers was ad 
 dressed to Professor Stowe about 1860, and is as follows : 
 Extract from a Letter from the late THOMAS WATTS, ESQ., Li 
 brarian of the British Museum, to PROFESSOR STOWE. 
 
 DEAR SIR, It is certainly one of the most striking features 
 of the popularity of " Uncle Tom s Cabin " that it has been 
 translated into so many languages, and among them into so 
 many obscure ones, languages which it has been so hard for 
 popularity to penetrate. Even the masterpieces of Scott and 
 Dickens have never been translated into Welsh, while this 
 American novel has forced its way, in various shapes, into the 
 languages of the ancient Britons. 
 
 There is a complete and excellent translation by Hugh Wil 
 liams, there is an abridged one by W. Williams, and there is a 
 strange incorporation of it, almost entire, into the body of a tale 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT 457 
 
 by Rev. William Rees called " Aelwyd F Ewythr Robert " (or 
 " Uncle Robert s Hearth "). 
 
 In the east of Europe it has found as much acceptance as in 
 the west. The " Edinburgh Review " mentioned some time ago 
 that there was one into Magyar. There are, in fact, three in 
 that language, one by Tringi, one by Tarbar, and one (prob 
 ably an abridged one) for the use of children. There are two 
 translations into the Illyrian, and two into the Wallachian. 
 There is one Polish translation, and an adaptation by Miss 
 Arabella Palmer into Russian. A full translation into Rus 
 sian appears to have been forbidden till lately, lest it might get 
 into circulation among the serfs, among whom it might prove 
 as hazardous to introduce it as the Portuguese version pub 
 lished in Paris among the slaves of Brazil. 
 
 Of course the book exists also in Danish, Swedish, and Dutch 
 (one Dutch edition being published in the island of Batavia). 
 In the great literary languages of the Continent the circulation 
 has been immense. In the " Bibliographic de la France," at 
 least four versions are mentioned which have run through vari 
 ous editions, and in the Leipsic Catalogue for 1852 and 1853 
 the distinct German versions enumerated amounted to no less 
 than thirteen. 
 
 In the Asiatic languages the only version I have yet seen is 
 the Armenian. Copies of all these versions have been procured 
 or ordered for the British Museum. 
 
 It is customary in all great libraries to make a collection of 
 versions of the Scriptures in various languages and dialects, to 
 serve, among other purposes, for those of philological study. I 
 suggested to Mr. Panizzi, then at the head of the printed book 
 department, that in this point of view it would be of consider 
 able interest to collect the versions of " Uncle Tom." 
 
 The translation of the same text by thirteen different trans 
 lators at precisely the same epoch of a language is a circum 
 stance perhaps altogether unprecedented, and it is one not 
 likely to recur, as the tendency of modern alterations in the 
 law of copyright is to place restrictions on the liberty of trans 
 lators. The possession, too, of such a book as " Uncle Tom s 
 Cabin " is very different from that of such a book as " Thomas 
 a Kempis," in the information it affords to the student of a 
 language. There is every variety of style, from that of ani 
 mated narration and passionate wailing to that of the most 
 familiar dialogue, and dialogue not only in the language of the 
 upper classes but of the lowest. 
 
458 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 The student who has once mastered " Uncle Tom " in Welsh 
 or Wallachian is not likely to meet any further difficulties in 
 his progress through Welsh or Wallachian prose. These con 
 siderations, united to those of another character, which had pre 
 viously led to the collection by the Museum of translations of 
 the plays of Shakespeare, the Antiquary, the Pickwick Club, 
 etc., led to the adoption of my views, and many of these ver 
 sions have already found their way to the shelves of the Mu 
 seum, while others are on the way. When all are assembled 
 the notes and prefaces of different translators would furnish 
 ample material for an instructive article in a review. 
 
 I regret that my account of these versions should be so much 
 less extended than I had hoped to make it, but the duties of an 
 officer in the British Museum, especially at this period of the 
 year, render it almost impossible for him to make any use 
 whatever of the treasures committed to his charge, which are 
 as a rule as much closed to him as they are open to the public. 
 You must excuse on this account all my shortcomings, and 
 believe me, dear sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 THOMAS WATTS. 
 
 The following is a list of the various editions and translations 
 of " Uncle Tom s Cabin," contained in the library of the Brit 
 ish Museum : 
 
 I. Complete Texts and abridgments, extracts, and adaptations, 
 versified or dramatized, of the original English. 
 
 II. Translations, in alphabetical order, of the languages, nine 
 teen in number : viz. Armenian, Bohemian, Danish, Dutch, 
 Finnish, Flemish, French, German, Hungarian or Magyar, 
 Illyrian, Italian, Polish, Portuguese, Romaic or Modern 
 Greek, Russian, Spanish, Swedish, Wallachian, Welsh. 
 
 In these are also comprised abridgments, extracts, and adap 
 tations. 
 
 III. Appendix. Containing a list of the various works relating 
 to " Uncle Tom s Cabin ; " also critical notices of the work 
 whether separately published or contained in reviews, maga 
 zines, newspapers, etc. 
 
BIBLIOGKAPHICAL ACCOUNT 459 
 
 I. ORIGINAL ENGLISH. 
 
 Uncle Tern s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly . . . One hundred and 
 tenth thousand. 2 vols. 
 
 John P. Jewett $ Co. Boston, U. S. 1852. 12 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly . . . With introductory 
 remarks by J. Sherman. 
 
 E. G. BoJin. London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in the Slave States of America. 
 
 T. Bosworth (Aug. 14th). London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly . . . With a Preface by 
 the Author, written expressly for this edition. 
 
 T. Bosworth (Oct. 13th). London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin . . . With twenty-seven Illustrations on wood by 
 G. Cruikshank, Esq. 
 
 J. Cassell. London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin. With a new Preface by H. B. Stowe. 
 
 Clarice $ Co. London. [1852.] 8 
 
 The People s Illustrated Edition. Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in 
 the Slave States of America. With 50 Engravings. 
 
 Clarke $ Co. London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in the Slave States of America. 
 [With a Preface signed G.l 
 
 Clarice $ Co. London. 1852. 12 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in the Slave States of America. 
 Third edition. [With a Preface by G.] 
 
 Clarice $ Co. London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in the Slave States of America. (The 
 seventh thousand of this edition.) 
 
 C. H. Clarice $ Co. London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in the Slave States of America . . . 
 reprinted . . . from the tenth American edition. 
 
 Clarice $ Co. London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin, "the Story of the Age." 
 
 J. Gilbert. London. 1852. 18 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin: a Tale of Life among the Lowly; or, Pictures of 
 Slavery in the United States of America. Third edition. Embel 
 lished with eight spirited Engravings. 
 
 Ingram, Coolce $ Co. London. 1852. 8 D 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, the History of a Christian Slave. With an In 
 troduction by E. Burritt. With 16 Illustrations, etc. 
 
 Partridge $ Oalcey. London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, the History of a Christian Slave . . . With [an 
 Introduction and] twelve Illustrations on Wood, designed by Anelay. 
 Partridge $ Oalcey. London. 1852. 8 
 
460 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Another edition. Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, the History of a Christian 
 Slave. With an Introduction [and Illustrations by H. Anelay]. 
 
 Partridge and Oalcey (Sept. 18th). London. [1852*.] 8 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in the Slave States of America. With 
 eight Engravings. [With a Preface signed G.] 
 
 Routledge $ Co. London. 1852. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in the Slave States of America. 
 Third edition. With forty Illustrations. 
 
 ; Routledge $ Co. and Clarke $ Co. London. 1852. 8 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly. With introductory re 
 marks by J. Sherman. 
 
 J. Snow. London. 1852. 8 
 
 Second edition. Complete for seven pence. Uncle Tom s Cabin . . . 
 Reprinted verbatim from the American edition. Fiftieth thousand. 
 G. Viclcers. London. [1852.] 4 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin. Tauchnitz, Leipzig. 1852. 16. Being part of the 
 
 Collection of "British Authors." Vol. 243, 44. 
 CasselPs edition of Uncle Tom s Cabin [by H. E. B. S.]. 
 
 London. 1852. 12 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin. London. 1852. 8. Forming Vol. 84 of the 
 
 "Parlour Library." 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in the Slave States of America. Lon 
 don. 1852. 8. Being No. 121 of the " Standard Novels." 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly. New illustrated edition. 
 
 Adam $ Charles Blaclc. Edinburgh. 1853. 8 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Negro Life in Slave States of America. 
 
 Clarke, Beeton $ Co. London. [1853.] 16 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly . . . With above one 
 hundred and fifty illustrations. 
 
 N. Cooke. London. 1853. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly. Illustrated edition. 
 Designs by Billings, etc. 
 
 S. Low, Son # Co. London. 1853. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Slave Life in America. [With a Biographical 
 Sketch of Mrs. H. E. B. Stowe.] 
 
 T. Nelson cf Sons. London, Edinburgh, printed 1853. 8 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin: a Tale of Life among the Lowly. With a Preface 
 by the . . . Earl of Carlisle. 
 
 G. Routledge cf Co. London. 1853. 8 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin. Adapted for young persons by Mrs. Crowe. With 
 8 Illustrations. 
 
 G. Routledge $ Co. London. 1853. 8 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin: a Tale of Slave Life, etc. 
 
 London. 1853. 8 
 
 Forming part of the " Universal Library." Fiction, Vol. I. 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin . . . Standard illustrated edition. 
 
 London, Ipsicich [printed 1857]. 12 
 One of a series called the " Run and Read Library/ 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT 461 
 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin . . . With a Preface by ... the Earl of Carlisle. A 
 new edition. 
 
 Routledge $ Sons. London. [1864.] 8 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin . . . Standard illustrated edition. London. 1870. 
 
 8. Forming part of the "Lily Series." 
 All about Little Eva, from Uncle Tom s Cabin. 
 
 London. 1853. 12 
 
 All about Poor Little Topsy, from Uncle Tom s Cabin. 
 
 London. 1853. 12 
 
 A Peep into Uncle Tom s Cabin. By " Aunt Mary" [i. e. Miss Low]. 
 With an Address from Mrs. H. B. Stowe to the Children of England 
 and America. 
 
 8. Low $ Son. London. (Jewett & Co., Boston, U. S.) 1853. 8 
 A selection of passages from Uncle Tom s Cabin. 
 
 Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom s Cabin (designed to adapt Mrs. 
 Stowe s narrative to the understanding of the youngest readers). 
 
 Edinburgh. 1853. 4 
 
 The Juvenile Uncle Tom s Cabin. Arranged for young readers. By 
 Mrs. Crowe. 
 
 Routledge $ Co. London. 1853. 12 
 An abridgment. With four Illustrations. 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin for Children. By Mrs. Crowe. 
 
 Routledge $ Sons. London. 1868. 12 
 
 This is another edition of the preceding abridgment. With two Illustrations. 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin. A drama of real life. In three Acts [and in prose]. 
 Adapted from Mrs. Beecher Stowe s celebrated Novel. 
 
 London. 1854. 12 
 
 Contained in Vol. XII. of " Lacy s acting edition of Plays." 
 Uncle Tom s Cabin. A drama in six Acts, by G. L. Aiken. 
 
 New York. 1868. 12 
 Contained in " French s Standard Drama." 
 
 II. TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 (Brother Thomas s Cabin. A story by H. B. Stowe, an American Lady.) 
 
 Armenian. 2 Vols. (Venice.) 1854. 12 
 
 Stryc Tomas, aneb Obrazy ze zivota cern/ch otroku v Americe, Z 
 Anglicke"ho pani H. B. S. [much abridged]. 
 
 Bohemian. Brne [Brunn]. 1854. 8 
 
 Onkel Thomas, eller Negerlivet i Amerikas Slaverstater . . . Oversat fra 
 den nordamerikanske original af Capt. Schadtler. 
 
 Danish. Kjobenhavn. 1853. 8 
 
 Onkel Toms Hytte, eller Negerliv i de amerikanske Slavestater . . . 
 Oversat of P. V. Grove. 
 
 Danish. Kjobenhavn. 1856. 8 
 
 DeNegerhut. [Uncle Tom s Cabin] . . . Naar den 20 en Amerikaanschen 
 druk, uit het Engelsch vertaald door C. M. Mensing. 
 
 Dutch. 2 Deel. Haarlem. 1853. 8 
 
462 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Seta Tumon Tupa, lyhykaisesti kerottu ja kanniilla kuvanksilla valaistu. 
 [Abridged translation into Finnish of "Uncle Tom s Cabin" by Mrs. 
 H. E. Beecher Stbwe. 
 
 Finnish. Turussa [Abo]. 1856. obi. 4 
 De Hut van Onkel Tom, eene Slaven-Geschiedenis. Naer het Engelsch. 
 
 Flemish. 3 Deel. Gent. [1852.] 8 
 
 La Cabane de 1 Oncle Tom, ou les noirs en Ame rique. Traduction neuve, 
 corrige e et accompagnde de notes par L. de Wailly et E. Texier. 
 Troisieme Edition. 
 
 French. Paris. [1852.] 8 
 
 La Cabane de 1 Oncle Tom . . . traduction complete par A. Michiels, 
 avec une biographic de 1 auteur. 
 
 French. Paris. 1852. 12 
 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom, ou Sort des Negres Esclaves. Traduction nou- 
 velle par M. L. Carion, pre ce dee d une dtude sur 1 ouvrage [by H. 
 Carion]. 
 
 French. 2 torn. Paris, Cambrai [printed], 1853. 12 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom; ou Tableaux de PEsclavage dans les Etats-Unis 
 d Ame rique . . . Traduction nouvelle par Old Nick [pseud, i. e. 
 P. E. Dauran Forgues] et A. Joanne. 
 
 French. Pans. 1853. 8 
 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom . . . Traduction faite a lademandede 1 Auteur 
 par Madame L. S. Belloc, avec une preface de Madame Beecher 
 Stowe, e crite par elle pour cette traduction, pre ce de e d une notice sur 
 sa vie par Madame L. S. Belloc, et ornde de son portrait grave par 
 M. F. Girard. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 12 
 
 Mme. H. B. S. La Case de 1 Oncle Tom, traduite et accompagne e de notes 
 par M. L. Pilatte. Nouvelle Edition, revue et corrige e, augmented 
 d une preface de 1 Auteur e crite spe*cialement pour cette Edition, et 
 d une introduction par George Sand. Traduction autorise e . . . par 
 Mme. Beecher Stowe. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 12 
 
 Le Pere Tom, ou vie des negres en Ame rique. Traduction de La Be dol- 
 liere. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 12 
 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom, ou vie des negres en Ame rique . . . Tra 
 duction de L. Enault. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 8 
 
 One of a series called " Bibliotheque des Chemins de Fer." 
 
 La Case du Pere Tom, ou vie des negres en Ame rique. Traduction de La 
 BMolliere. Nouvelle Edition, augmente e d une notice par G. Sand. 
 Illustrations, etc. 
 
 French. Paris. [1859?] 4 
 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom. Drame en huit actes. Par MM. Dumanoir et 
 D Ennery. Repre sente pour la premiere fois, a Paris, sur le Theatre 
 de 1 Ambigu-Comique le 10 Janvier, 1853, 
 
 French. Paris. 1859. 4 
 Contained in the " Theatre Contemporain Illustre"." 80 Se"rie. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT 463 
 
 L Oncle Tom . Drame en cinq actes et neuf tableaux . Par MM . E . Texier 
 
 et L. de Wailly. Repre sente pour la premiere fois a Paris, sur le 
 Theatre de la Gaite le 23 Janvier 1853. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 8 
 
 Contained in the Bibliotheque Dramatique of Michel L^vy. Tome 49. 
 Another Edition. Paris. 1859. 4 
 Contained in the " Theatre Contemporain." 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte. Eine Negergeschichte. 3 Bdchen. 
 
 German. Berlin und Dessau [printed], 1852. 8 
 Forms Bdch. 4-6, Jahrg. 5 of the " Allgemeine Deutsche Volks-Bibliothek." 
 Oheim Tom s Hiitte, oder das Leben bei den Xiedrigen . . . Uebersetzt 
 von H. R. Hutten. 
 
 German. Boston, U. S. Cambridge, U. S. [printed], 1853. 8 
 Onkel Tom, oder Schilderungen aus dem Leben in den Sklavenstaaten 
 Nordamerika s . . . Nach den 35sten englischen Auflage von J. S. 
 Lowe. 
 
 German. 2 Bdc. Hamburg, Leipzig [printed], 1853. 8 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hutte. Ein Roman aus dem Leben der Sklaven in Amerika. 
 (Mit sechs sauberen Holzschnitten geziert.) 2 Bdc. 
 
 German. Berlin. [1853.] 8 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder das Negerleben in den Sklavenstaaten des freien 
 Nordamerika ... In deutscher Auffassungsweise fur deutsche Leser 
 bearbeitet von Dr. Ungewitter. Dritte Ausgabe, mit 6 Illustrationen. 
 
 German. Wien [printed] und Leipzig. 1853. 8 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Negerleben in den Sklavenstaaten von Amerika 
 . . . Mit der Biographic der Verfasserin, und einer Vorrede von E. 
 Burritt. Vollstandige und wohlfeilste Stereotyp-Ausgabe. Neunte 
 Auflage. Nebst Portrait. 
 
 German. Leipzig. 1853. 8 
 
 This forms Bd. I of the " Neue Volks-Bibliothek, herausgegeben von A. Schrader." 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte. Aus dem Englischen. Mit 6 Holzschnitten. 
 
 German. Berlin. 1853. 8 
 
 Oukel Tom s Hiitte, oder Negerleben in den Sklavenstaaten Amerika s. 
 Aus dem Englischen. Mit fiinfzig Illustrationen. Vierte Auflage. 
 
 German. Leipzig. 1854. 8 
 
 [Onkel Tom s Hiitte. Eine Negergeschichte. 
 
 German. 3 Bdc. Wittenberg. 1856. 12 
 Contained in the Neuer Haus und Familieuschatz.] 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, nach dem Englischen . . . fur die reifere Jugend 
 bearbeitet von M. Gans. Mit einer Abbildung in Farbendruck. 
 
 German. Pesth. 1853. 8 
 
 Forming Bd. 1 of the " Neues Lesekabinet fur die reifere Jugend. ; 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Leiden der Negersklaven in Amerika. [By 
 Mrs. H. E. B. Stowe.] Im Auszuge fiir das Volk bearbeitet. Mit 
 einem Titelbilde. 
 
 German. Berlin. 1853. 16 
 
464 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte. Erzahlung fur Kinder bearbeitet. [From Mrs. 
 Stowe s tale.] Neues Bilder . . . und Lesebuch, etc. 
 
 German. Niirnberg. [1854 ?] obi. 4 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, fur Kinder. Nach dem Englischen [of Mrs. Stowe] 
 von A. Hartel. 
 
 German. Leipzig. [1854?] 16 
 
 Tamas Batya Kunyhoja; vagy, Neger elet a rabszolga tarto Amerikai 
 allamokban. B. S. H. utan Angolbol, Irinyi Jozsef. 
 
 Hungarian. 2 Kotet. Pesten. 1853. 12 
 
 Tamas Batya. Gyermekek szamara. Kidolgozta M . . . Rokus. [Brother 
 Thomas. For Children. Elaborated by Rokus M . . .] 
 
 Hungarian. Pesten. 1856. 8 
 
 Tamas Batya, vagy egy Szerecsen rabszolga torte nete. H. B. Stowe utan 
 irta Tatar Pdter. [Brother Thomas, or story of a Negro Slave. Writ 
 ten by P. Tatar after H. B. Stowe. A versified abridgment.] 
 
 Hungarian. Pest. 1857. 8 
 
 Stric Tomaz ali zivlenje zamorcov v Ameriki . . . Svobodno za Slovence 
 zdelal J. B. 
 
 Illyrian. Celovec [Xlagenfurt, in Carinthia]. 1853. 8 
 
 Stric Tomova Koca, ali zivljenje zamorcov v robnih derzavah svobodne 
 severne Amerike . . . Iz ne*mskega poslove*nil [and abridged] F. 
 Malavasie. S sterimi podobsinami. 
 
 Illyrian. Ljubljana [Laibach, in Carniola], 1853. 8 
 La Capanna dello Zio Tommaso ; ossia la vita dei Negri in America. Di 
 Enrichetta Beecher Stowe. 
 
 Italian. Lugano. 1853. 8 
 
 Chata Wuja Tomasza, czyli zycie niewolnikow . . . Przetlumaczyl. 
 F. Dydacki. 
 
 Polish. 2 Tom. Lwow [Lemberg, in Galicia]. 1853. 8 
 Chatka Ojca Toma, czyli zycie murzyndw w stanach niewolniczych 
 Ameryki Polnocnej : romans . . . Przeklad Waclawa P. Tom. 1. 
 (Przeklad I. Iwickiego. Tom. 2.) 
 
 Polish. 2 Tom. Warszawa. 1865. 8. 
 
 A Cabana do Pai Thomaz, ou a vida dos pretos na America, Romance 
 moral escripto em Inglez por Mrs. H. B. S. e traduzido em portuguez 
 por F. L. Alvares d Andrada, etc. (Juizo da obra por Mine. George 
 Sand [pseud, i. e. Amantine Lucile Aurore Dudevant. With plates].) 
 
 Portuguese. 2 Tom. Paris. 1853. 12 
 
 H Ka\vfly rov cojxa, f) 6 /?i os riav Mavpcov ev AnxepiKjj. Mufliaropi a "Epp teTTas 
 Sro.tfrjs, ju.6Ta0pa<r06i<ra CK rov A-yY^tKoO VTTO I. Kapao-ouT<ra. 
 
 Romaic or Modern Greek. 2 Vols. AOyvjitri [Athens."] 1860. 8 
 
 Khizhina dvadi Toma: roman. 
 
 Russian. St. Petersburg. 1858. 8 
 
 Khizhina dyadi Toma: povj T est, etc. 
 
 Russian. St. Petersburg. 1865. 8 
 La Cabana del Tio Tomas. Novela escrita en Ingles. 
 
 Spanish. 2 torn. Mexico. 1853. 12 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT 4C5 
 
 La Cabaiia del tio Tom, novela . . . traducida al Castellano por A. A. 
 Orihuela. 
 
 Spanish. Bogota. 1853. 8 
 
 La Cabana del tio Tomas, 6 los Negros en America. Traducida por los 
 Redactores del Clamor Publico, ilustrada con cinco laminas finas 
 grabadas en acero. 
 
 Spanish. Barcelona. 1853. 8 
 
 La Choza del Negro Tomas, 6 vida de los Negros en el Sur de los Estado s- 
 Unidos. Novela escrita en Ingles . . . traducida al Castellano. 
 
 Spanish. 2 torn. Madrid. 1853. 8 
 
 La Choza de Tomas. Novela . . . traducida al Castellano. Edicion ilus 
 trada con 26 grabados aparte del testo. 
 
 Spanish. Madrid, Paris. 1853. 4 
 
 La Choza de Tom . . . traducida por W. Ayguals de Izco. Segunda 
 edicion. 
 
 Spanish. Madrid. 1853. 4 
 Onkel Toms Stuga. Bearbetad for Barn. [An abridgment for children.] 
 
 Swedish. Stockholm. 1868. 16 
 Koliba lui Moshu Toma, etc. 
 
 Wallachian. 2 torn. Jassy. 1853. 8 
 Bordeiulu Unkiului Tom, etc. 
 
 Wallachian. 2 torn. Jassy. 1853. 8 
 
 Crynodeb o Gaban Newyrth Tom ; nan Frywyd Negroaidd yn America 
 . . . Cyfiethiedig gan y Lefiad [with a prefatory notice by W. Wil 
 liams]. 
 
 Welsh. Abertawy. [1853.] 12 
 [Caban Newyrth Tom wedi ei Gyfeithu gan y Lefiad. 
 
 Welsh. 2 parts. Abestawy. [No date.] 12 
 
 Caban F Ewyrth Twm . . . gyda . . . gerfluniau gan G. Cruikshank. 
 Cyfieithad H. Williams. 
 
 Welsh. Llundain. 1853. 12 
 
 Caban F Ewythr Tomos, neu hanes caethwas Cristnogol . . . Crynodeb o 
 waith Harriet Beeeher Stowe. 
 
 Welsh. Caernarfon. [I860?] 12 
 
 III. APPENDIX. 
 
 The Key to Uncle Tom s Cabin; presenting the original facts and docu 
 ments upon which the story is founded. Together with corrobora 
 tive Statements, verifying the truth of the Work. By Mrs. Harriet 
 Beecher Stowe. 
 
 Clarice, Beeton $ Co. ; and Thomas Bosworth. London. [1853.] 8 
 A Key to Uncle Tom s Cabin. Tauchnitz, Leipzig. 1853. 16 
 
 Forming Vols. 266-67 of the " Collection of British Authors." 
 A Key to Uncle Tom s Cabin. Second Edition. 
 
 Sampson Low, Son cf- Co. London. 1853. 8 
 
466 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 La Clef de la Case cle 1 Oncle Tom. Avec les pieces justificatives. Ou- 
 vrage traduit par Old Nick fojseud. i. e. Paul mile Dauran Forgues] 
 & A. Joanne. 
 
 Pains. 1853. 8 
 La Clef de la Case de 1 Oncle Tom. 
 
 Paris. 1857. 
 
 This is another copy of the preceding, with a new title-page and a different date. 
 Schliissel zu Onkel Tom s Hiitte. Enthaltend die urspriinglichen 
 Thatsachen und Documente, die dieser Geschichte zu Grunde liegen. 
 Zweite Auflage. 
 
 Leipzig. 1853. 8 
 
 Forming End. 5 and 7 of the " Neue Volks-Bibliothek, herausgegeben von A. 
 Schrader." 
 
 La Llave de la Cabana del Tio Tom. Traducida de la ultima edicion por 
 G. A. Larrosa. 
 
 Madrid, Barcelona [printed], 1855. 8 
 
 REVIEWS AND NOTICES OF "UNCLE TOM S CABIN," SEPARATELY PUB 
 LISHED; ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED UNDER THE AUTHORS NAMES. 
 
 Adams (F. Colburn). Uncle Tom at Home. A review of the reviewers 
 and repudiators of Uncle Tom s Cabin, by Mrs. Stowe. 
 
 Philadelphia. 1853. 12 
 
 Another Edition. London. [1853.] 12 
 
 Brimblecomb (Nicholas) pseud.? Uncle Tom s Cabin in Ruins. Trium 
 phant defense of Slavery: in a series of Letters to H. B. Stowe. 
 
 Boston, U. S. 1853. 8 
 Clare (Edward). The Spirit and Philosophy of Uncle Tom s Cabin. 
 
 London. 1853. 12 
 
 Criswell (R.). Uncle Tom s Cabin contrasted with "Buckingham Hall, 
 the Planter s Home;" or, a fair view of both sides of the Slavery 
 Question. 
 
 New York. 1853. 12 
 
 Denman (Thomas) Baron Denman. "Uncle Tom s Cabin," "Bleak 
 House," Slavery and Slave Trade. Seven articles by Lord Denman, 
 reprinted from the "Standard." With an article containing facts 
 connected with Slavery, by Sir G. Stephen, reprinted from the 
 "Northampton Mercury." 
 
 London. 1853. 12 
 
 Second Edition. London. 1853. 12 
 
 Helps (Sir Arthur). A letter on Uncle Tom s Cabin. By the author of 
 "Friends in Council." 
 
 Cambridge, U. S. 1852. 8 
 
 Henson (Josiah). " Uncle Tom s Story of his Life." An Autobiography 
 of J. Henson, from 1789 to 1876 With a Preface by Mrs. H. B. 
 Stowe, and an introductory note by G. Sturge and S. Morley. Edited 
 by J. Lobb. [With a Portrait.] Fortieth thousand. 
 
 London, 1877. 8 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT 467 
 
 Senior (Nassau William). American Slavery: a reprint of an article on 
 "Uncle Tom s Cabin," of which a portion was inserted in the 206th 
 number of the Edinburgh Review; and of Mr. Sumner s Speech of 
 the 19th and 20th of May, 1856. With a notice of the events which 
 followed that speech. 
 
 London, 1856. 8 
 Published without the author s name. 
 
 Another Edition. London. [1862.] 8 
 
 Published with the author s name. 
 
 Thompson (George). American Slavery. A lecture delivered in the 
 Music Hall, Store St., Dec. 13th, 1852. Proving by unquestionable 
 evidence the correctness of Mrs. Stowe s portraiture of American 
 Slavery, in her popular work, "Uncle Tom s Cabin." 
 
 London. 1853. 12 
 
 REVIEWS AND NOTICES OF "UNCLE TOM S CABIN," WHICH HAVE 
 APPEARED IN VARIOUS PERIODICALS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM J 
 ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED. 
 
 Note. Those in the Welsh language are printed together at the end. 
 
 The " Athenceum." London. 1852, p. 574. Notice. 
 1852, p. 1173. Contrast between "Uncle Tom s Cabin" and the works 
 
 by Hildreth and W. L. G. Smith. 
 1859, p. 549. Contrasts the literary merits of "Uncle Tom s Cabin" 
 
 and "The Minister s Wooing." 
 
 1863, p. 78. Notice of the Influence of "Uncle Tom s Cabin." 
 The "Baptist Magazine." London. 1852. Vol. 44, p. 206. Notice. 
 The "Baptist Reporter." London. 1852. N. S. Vol. 9, p. 206. Notice. 
 "Blackwood s Edinburgh Magazine." Edinburgh. 1853. Vol. 74, p. 
 
 393. Review of "Uncle Tom s Cabin " and "Key." 
 "The Christian Reformer." London. 1853. 3d Series, Vol. 8, p. 472. 
 
 Review. 
 
 The " Christian Witness." London. 1852. 8. Vol. 9, p. 344. Review. 
 "The Critic." London. 1852. fol. p. 293. Notice. 
 "Dublin University Magazine." Dublin. Vol. 40, Nov., 1852. 8. 
 
 Review. 
 "The Eclectic Review." London. 1852. 8. N. S. Vol. 4. Notice. 
 
 Do. Vol. 7. 1854. Notice. 
 "The Edinburgh Review." London. 1855. No. 206. The article 
 
 "American Slavery," written by N. W. Senior, and twice reprinted 
 
 by the author with additions. 
 
 " Eraser s Magazine." London. 1852. 8. Vol.46. A critique by A. H. 
 "The Free Church Magazine." Edinburgh. 1852. 8. N. S. Vol. 1, 
 
 p. 359. Notice. 
 " The General Baptist Repository." London. 1852. 8. Vol. 31, p. 339. 
 
 Notice. 
 "The Inquirer." London. 1852. fol. Vol. 2, p. 644. Review. 
 
468 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 "The Literary Gazette." London. 1852. fol. Notice. 
 
 " The Local Preacher s Magazine." London. 1853. 8. N. S. Vol. 1. 
 Notice. 
 
 "The Methodist New Connexion Magazine." London. 1852. 8. 3d 
 Series, Vol. 20. Review. 
 
 "The Mother s Magazine." London. 1852. Review. 
 
 "The North British Review." Edinburgh. 1853. 8. Vol. 18. Re 
 view. 
 
 "The Quarterly Review." London. 1857. Vol.101. Review of " Dred " 
 and "Uncle Tom s Cabin." 
 
 "Sharpens London Magazine," conducted by Mrs. S. C. Hall. London. 
 
 1852, 1853. 8. N. S. Vol. 1. Review. 
 
 N. S. Vol. 2. Notice, with Miss Bremer s opinion of "Uncle Tom s 
 Cabin." 
 
 " The Spectator." London. 1852. 8. Notice. 
 
 " Tait s Edinburgh Magazine." Edinburgh. 1852. 8. 2d Series. 
 Notice. 
 
 "The Westminster Review." London. 1853. 8. N. S. Vol. 4. Re 
 view. 
 
 WELSH REVIEWS AND NOTICES. 
 
 " YCylchgrawn" [The Circulator]. Abertawy. 1853. 8. Vol.3. Re 
 view of Welsh translation. 
 
 " Y Diwygiwr" [The Reformer]. Llanelli. 1852. 8. Vols. 17 and 18. 
 Notices of Welsh translations. 
 
 " Y Dysgedydd " [The Instructor] . Dolgellan. 1853. 8. Notices of 
 Welsh translations. 
 
 " Yr Eurgrawn Wesley aidd" [The Wesleyan Golden Treasury]. Llan- 
 idloes. 1853. 8 3 . Vol. 2. Review of Welsh translations. 
 
 "Y Greal" [The Miscellany]. Llangollen. 1853. 8 3 . Vol.2. Review. 
 
 " Yr Haul" [The Sun]. Llanymddyfri. 18. Vol. 4. Extracts and 
 Reviews. 
 
 " Y Traethodydd " [The Essayist]. Dinbych. 1853. 8. Vol.9. No 
 tice. 
 
 REVIEWS AND NOTICES IN UNITED STATES PERIODICALS. 
 
 "The Literary World." New York. 1852. -fol. Vol.10. Review. 
 
 "Littell s Living Age." Boston. 1852. 8. Reviews from American 
 and English Periodicals. 
 
 "The New Englander." New Haven. 1852. 8. Vol.10. Review. 
 
 "The New York Quarterly Review." New York. 1853. Vol. 1. Re 
 view. 
 
 " The North American Review." Boston. 1853. 8. Vol.77. Review. 
 
 "The United States Review." New York. 1853. 8. Vol.1. 
 
BIBLIOGEAPHICAL ACCOUNT 469 
 
 A Critique in " Blackwood s Magazine." Article, " Slavery and Slave Power in the 
 United States." Thejwriter speaks of " Uncle Tom s Cabin " as " A romance 
 without the slightest pretension to truth, and the foundation of a wholesale 
 attack on the institutions and character of the people of the United States." 
 
 EEVIEWS AND NOTICES IN FOREIGN PERIODICALS. 
 
 "Boekzaal der Geleerde Wereld." Dutch. Amsterdam. 1853. 12. Re 
 view, by "J. J. V. T." 
 
 "De Tijd." Dutch. S Gravenhage, 1853. 8. Deel 17. Notice, with 
 portrait of Mrs. Stowe. 
 
 " Vaderlandsche Letteroefeningen." Dutch. Amsterdam. 1853. 8. 
 Review. 
 
 11 De Eendragt." Flemish. Gent. 1853. Jaerzang 7. Review, by "R." 
 
 "Revue Critique des Livres Nouveaux." French. Paris. 1852. 8. Re 
 view, by "H. A. P." 
 
 "Revue Contemporaine." French. Paris. 1852. 8. Tome 4. Article, 
 "Les Negres en Amerique, by Philarete Chasles. 
 
 "Revue des Deux Mondes." French. Paris. 1852. 8. 6th series. 
 Tome 16. Article, "Le Roman Abolitioniste en Ame rique," by 
 tfmile Montegut. 
 
 "Blatter fur literarische Unterhaltung." German. Leipzig. 1853. 4. 
 Band I. Review, by Rudolf Gottschall. 
 
 "Europa." German. Leipzig. 1853. fol. Review and Notices. 
 
 "Das Pfennig-Magazin.^ German. Leipzig. 1852. fol. Notices. 
 
 " Unterhaltungen am hduslichen Herd." German. Leipzig. 1853. 8. 
 Review. 
 
 "II Cimento." Italian. Torino. 1852. 8. Review. 
 
 TITLES OF VARIOUS EDITIONS, TRANSLATIONS, ABRIDGMENTS, ADAP 
 TATIONS, KEYS, REVIEWS, ETC., NOT CONTAINED IN THE LIBRARY 
 OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM AT THE TIME WHEN THE FOREGOING 
 LISTS WERE COMPILED. 
 
 [Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly. New Edition, with 
 Illustrations, and a Bibliography of the Work by George Bullen, Esq., 
 F. S. A., Keeper of the Department of .Printed Books, British Mu 
 seum. Together with an Introductory Account of the Work. 
 
 Houghton, Osgood $ Co. Boston. 1878. 8] 
 
 [Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly. New Edition, with an 
 Introductory Account of the Work by the Author. 
 
 Houghton, Mifflin $ Co. Boston. 1885. 12] 
 
 [Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly. Illustrated by E. W. 
 Kemble. [With introduction.] 2 Vols. 
 
 Houghton, Mifflin $ Co. Boston. 1891. 16] 
 [Uncle Tom s Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly. Universal Edition. 
 
 Houghton, Mifflin $ Co. Boston. 1892. 12] 
 
470 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 [Uncle Tom s Cabin. Brunswick Edition. 
 
 Houahton, M ifflin $ Co. Boston. 1893. 18] 
 
 [Uncle Tom s Cabin ; or, Life among the Lowly. With an Introduction 
 setting forth the History of the Novel, and a Key to Uncle Tom s 
 Cabin. 
 
 Houghton, Mifflin $ Co. Boston. 2 vols. 1896. Crown 8] 
 [Uncle Tom s Cabin. A Tale of Life among the Lowly. With Portrait 
 and Twenty-seven Illustrations [woodcuts] by George Cruikshank. 
 Hutchinson $ Co. London, [no date.] 8] 
 
 [The Christian Slave. A Drama, founded on a Portion of Uncle Tom s 
 Cabin. Dramatized by Harriet Beecher Stowe, expressly for the 
 Readings of Mrs. Mary E. Webb. 
 
 Phillips, Sampson <$ Co. Boston. 1855. 16] 
 
 Strejcek Tom, cili: Otroctvi ve svobodne Americe. Povfdka pro mlady 
 a dospely vek, vzdelana die anglicke"ho romance od pani Harriet 
 Beecher Stowe. 
 
 Bohemian. Prague. 1853. 12] 
 [Onkel Toms Hytte. Tredie Oplag. 
 
 Danish. 2 vols. V. Pio. [Kjobenhavn ? ] 1876.] 
 
 De Hut van Oom Tom, of het Leven der Negerslaven in Noord-Amerika. 
 Naar het Fransch van de La Be dolliere, door W. L. Ritter. 
 
 Dutch. Batavia. 1853. 8 
 
 A copy of this version is in the possession of Professor Stowe. 
 De Neger hut, of het Leven der Negerslaven in Amerika. Uit Engelsch 
 vertaald door P. Munnich. Eerste Deel. 
 
 Dutch. Soerabaya [at the East End of Java]. 1853. 8 
 A copy of this version is also in the possession of Professor Stowe. 
 [De Negerhut. (Uncle Tom s Cabin.) Een Verhaal uit het Slavenleven in 
 Noord-Amerika. Naar den 20sten Amerikaanschen Druk. Uit het 
 Engelsch vertaald door C. M. Mensing. Volks-Uitgave. 
 
 Dutch. Amsterdam. 1874. 12] 
 
 La Cabane de 1 Oncle Tom. Traduction revue par L. de Wailly et E. 
 Texier. 
 
 French. Paris. 1852. 8 
 
 La Cabane de 1 Oncle Tom. Traduction complete par A. Michiels. 2 e 
 Edition. 
 
 French. Paris. 1852. 12 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom. Traduite par L. Pilatte. 
 
 French. 2 torn. Paris. 1852. 12 
 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom. Traduction de La Be dolliere. Illustrations 
 Anglaises. 
 
 French. Paris. 1852. 4 
 Another Edition. Pans. 1852. large 8 
 Another Edition. Paris. 1852. sm. 8 
 La Cabane de 1 Oncle Tom. Traduction par A. Michiels. 3 e Edition. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 12 
 4 e Edition. Paris. 1853. 12 J 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT 471 
 
 La Cabane de 1 Oncle Tom. Traduction de MM. Wailly et Texier. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 4 
 2 e Edition. Paris. 1853. 12. 
 
 La Case du Pere Tom. Traduction de La Be"dolliere. Nouvelle Edition, 
 augment^e d une notice de G. Sand. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 12 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduit par L. E^nault. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. fol. 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduction par MM. C. Rowey et A. Rolet. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 12 
 Another Edition. Paris. 1853. 8 
 La Cabane de POncle Tom. Traduction par Texier et Wailly. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 4 
 Contained in the " Muse"e Litteraire du Siecle." ^ 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduction de L. Enault. 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 16 
 
 Contained in the " Bibliothe que des Chemins de Fer." 
 Another Edition. Paris. 1853. 12 
 
 Contained in the " Bibliothe que des meilleurs romans Grangers." 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduit par Victor Ratier. Edition revue par 
 
 PAbbd Jouhanneaud. 
 
 French. Limoges et Paris. 1853. 8 
 
 " Edition modifiee & I usage de la Jeunesse." 
 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Racontde aux enfants, par M me Arabella Pal 
 mer. Traduite de Panglais, par A. Viollet. [With Illustrations.] 
 
 French. Paris. 1853. 12 
 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduction de La BeMolliere. 
 
 French. Paris. 1854. 4 
 Contained in the " Pantheon Populaire." 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduction de V. Ratier. Revue par PAbbe" 
 
 Jouhanneaud. 
 
 French. Limoges et Pans. 1857. 12 
 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduit par La Barre". 
 
 French. 3 vols. Paris. 1861. 12 
 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduction par M me L. S. Belloc. Avec une 
 preface de M me Beecher Stowe. Orne"e de son Portrait. 
 
 French. Paris. 1862. 12 
 Contained in the " Bibliotheque Charpentier." 
 Reprinted. Paris. 1872. 12 
 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduit par M. L. Pilatte. Nouvelle Edition, 
 augmented d une preface de Pauteur et d une introduction par G. 
 
 French. Paris. 1862. 12 
 La Case du Pere Tom. Traduction de La Be"dolliere. Notice de G. Sand. 
 
 Illustrations Anglaises. 
 
 French. Pans. 1863. 4 
 
 Contained in the " Pantheon Populaire." 
 Reprinted. Paris. 1874. 4 
 
472 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 La Case de POncle Tom. Traduite par L. Enault. 
 
 French. Paris. 1864. 12 
 
 Contained in the " Bibliotheque des meilleurs remans Strangers." 
 Reprinted. Paris. 1865. 12 
 Do. Paris. 1873. 12 
 Do. Paris. 1875. 12 
 Do. Paris. 1876. 12 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom. Traduction de L. Barre". 
 
 French. Paris. 1865. 
 
 [La Case de 1 Oncle Tom; ou, Vie des Negres en Amdrique. Roman 
 Ame"ricain traduit par Louis Enault. 
 
 French. Paris. 1872. 16] 
 
 [La Case de 1 Oncle Tom. Traduit par M. Le"on Pilatte. Nouvelle Edition, 
 augmented d une introduction par George Sand. 
 
 French. Paris. 1875. 12] 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom. Traduction revue par E. du Chatenet. 
 
 French. Limoges. 1876. 8 
 Abre ge de 1 histoire de 1 Oncle Tom, a 1 usage de la jeunesse. 
 
 French. Leipzig. 1857. 16 
 
 Forming Vol. 24 of the " Petite Bibliotheque Francaise." 
 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom. Drame en huit Actes: par MM. Dumanoir et 
 d Ennery. Musique de M. Artus. Thdatre de 1 Ambigu Comique. 
 
 Paris. 1853. 12 
 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom. Romance tirde du roman de ce nom, joude a 
 1 Ambigu, paroles de E. Lecart. 
 
 Paris. 1853. 4 
 
 La Case de 1 Oncle Tom. Chanson nouvelle, d apres le drame de ce nom. 
 [By"L.C.] 
 
 Pans. 1853. 4 
 Onkel Tom, oder Sklavenleben in der Republik Amerika. 
 
 German. Berlin. 1852. 8 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Negerleben in den Sklavenstaaten Amerikas. 
 Aus dem Englischen. 2 Thle. 
 
 German. Berlin. 1852. 8 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Negerleben in den Sklavenstaaten Amerikas. 
 Aus dem Englischen. 
 
 German. 30 Lieferungen. Leipzig. 1852. 8 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte. Uebersetzt von F. C. Nordestern. 
 
 German. 6 Hefte. Wien. 1852. 8 
 
 Onkel Tom, oder Negerleben in den nordamerikanischen Sklavenstaaten. 
 Uebersetzt von W. E. Dragulin. 
 
 German. 4 Bdc. Leipzig. 1852. 8 
 Forming Bd. 9-12 of the " Arnerikanische Bibliothek." 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hutte, oder Negerleben in den Sclavenstaaten des freien 
 Nordamerika. Frei bearbeitet von Ungewitter. 
 
 German. Leipzig. 1852. 8 
 Forming Bd. 317 of the " Belletristiscb.es Lese-Cabinet." 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT 473 
 
 Sclaverei in clem Lande der Freiheit, oder das Leben der Neger in den 
 Sclavenstaaten Nordamerika s. Nach der 15 Aunage von Onkel 
 Tom s Cabin. 
 
 German. 4 Bdc. Leipzig. 1852. 8 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder die Geschichte eines christlichen Sclaven von 
 H. B. Stowe. 
 
 German. 11 Bdchen. 1852-53. 4 
 Forming Bdchen 1871-1881 of " Das Belletristische Ausland." 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Sklavenleben in den Freistaaten Amerika s. 
 Aus dem Englischen. Zweite Auflage. 
 
 German. 3 Thle. Berlin. 1853. 8. 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder die Geschichte eines christlichen Sklaven. Aus 
 dem Englischen iibertragen von L. Du Bois. 
 
 German. 3 Thle. Stuttgart. 1853. 16. 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Negerleben in den Sklavenstaaten von Amerika. 
 Aus dem Englischen. 
 
 German. Leipzig. 1853. 8. 
 Forming Bd. 1 of the " Neue Volks-Bibliothek. ; 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Negerleben in den Sklavenstaaten von Nord- 
 amerika. Mit 50 Illustrationen. Zweite Aunage. 
 
 German. Leipzig. 1853. 8. 
 
 Dritte, mit Anmerkungen vermehrte Aunage. 
 
 Leipzig. 1853. 8. 
 
 Vierte Aunage. Leipzig. 1854. 8. 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Sclaverei im Lande der Freiheit. German. 
 Dritte Aunage. 4 Bdc. 
 
 German. 4 Bdc. Leipzig. 1853. 16. 
 
 Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Negerleben in Nordamerika. Im Auszuge be- 
 arbeitet. 
 
 German. Berlin. 1853. 16. 
 
 [Onkel Tom s Hiitte, oder Negerleben in den Sklavenstaaten von Amerika. 
 Aus dem Englischen iibersetzt. 
 
 German. Leipzig. 1878. 16. 
 In the Universal-Bibliothek.] 
 Onkel Tom s Schicksale. Erzahlung fur die Jugend, von Max Schasler. 
 
 German. 2 Bdchen. Berlin. 1853. 8. 
 
 Onkel Tom s Schicksale. Erzahlungen fur die Jugend. Fur die deutsche 
 Jugend bearbeitet von Max Schasler. 
 
 German. 2 Bdchen. Berlin. 1853. 8. 
 Forming Bdchen 1 of the " Hausbibliothek der Jugend." 
 La Capanna di Papa Tom. Libera Versions dal Franchese, etc. 
 
 Italian. Napoli. 1853. 8V 
 
 A copy of this version is in the possession of Professor Stowe. 
 [La Capanna dello Zio Tom. Nuovo Versione Italiana, Elegamente 
 Illustrata dal Sig. Bonamore. 
 
 Italian. Milano. 1883. 8.] 
 
474 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 [Chata Wnja Tomasza, czyli zycie niewolnikow w Zjednoczonych Stanach 
 Polnocnej Ameryki. 
 
 Polish. 2 Tom. Warszawa. 1877. 32.] 
 Khizhina dyadi Toma, etc. 
 
 Russian. Moscow. 1858. 8. 
 Khizhina dyadi Tom, etc. 
 
 Russian. St. Petersburg. 1858. 8 . 
 
 Dyadya Tom, etc. [Uncle Tom ; or, Life of the Negro-Slaves in America. 
 A tale adapted from the English by M. F. Butovich. Abridged.] 
 
 Russian. St. Petersburg. 1867. 8. 
 [Khizhina dyadi Toma: Povyest, etc. 
 
 Russian. St. Petersburg and Moscow. 1874. 16] 
 Chicha-Tomina Koliba. 
 
 Servian. Belgrade. 1854. 8. 
 
 [La Cabana del Tio Tom. Traducida al Castellano por A. A. Orihuela. 
 
 Spanish. Paris. 1852. 16.] 
 
 [Onkel Toms Stuga, eller Negerlifvet i Amerikanska Slafstaterna 
 Ofversattning af S. J. Callerholm. 
 
 Swedish. Goteborg. 1873. 8.] 
 [Onkel Toms Stuga. Skildring ur de Vanlottades Lif . 
 
 Swedish. Stockholm. 1882. 16.] 
 
 [Three editions were also published between 1860 and 18G5 by Alb. Bonnier 
 Stockholm.] 
 
 [Aelwyd F Ewythr Robert: neu, Hanes Caban F Ewythr Tomos. Gan 
 y Parch. William Rees. 
 
 Welsh. Dinbych. 1853. 16. 
 
 [A Key to Uncle Tom s Cabin; presenting the Original Facts and Docu 
 ments upon which the story is founded. Together with Corrobora 
 tive Statements verifying the Truth of the Work. By Harriet 
 Beecher Stowe. 
 
 John P. Jewett $ Co. Boston. 1853. 8] 
 
 Nyckeln till Onkel Toms Stuga. [Key to Uncle Tom s Cabin.] Werk- 
 liga Tilldragclser pa hwilka Romanen af samma mamn hwilar. Uldrag 
 efter Mrs. H. Beecher Stowe. Ofwersatt efter Engelska Originalet. 
 
 Swedish. Stockholm. 1853. 16. 
 
 [The Southern View of "Uncle Tom s Cabin." From The Southern Lit 
 erary Messenger. By the Editor [John R. Thompson]. 
 
 No place or date. 8] 
 
 [Uncle Tom in England. The London Times on Uncle Tom s Cabin. A 
 Review from the London Times of Friday, September 3d, 1852. 
 
 Bunce $ Bro. New YorJc. 1852. 8, paper] 
 
 [Uncle Tom in Paris ; or, Views of Slavery Outside the Cabin . Together 
 with Washington s Views of Slavery, now for the first Time Pub 
 lished. By Adolphus M. Hart. [Also containing the London Times 
 RevieAv of September 3d, 1852.] 
 
 William Taylor $ Co. Baltimore. 1854. 12] 
 
 [Notes on Uncle Tom s Cabin: Being a Logical Answer to the Allegations 
 and Inferences against Slavery as an Institution. With a supple- 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT 475 
 
 mentary note on the Key, and an Appendix of Authorities. By the 
 Rev. E. J. Stearns, A. M., Late Professor in St. John s College, An 
 napolis, Md. 
 
 Lippincott, Grambo $ Co. Philadelphia. 1853. 16] 
 
 [Father Henson s Story of his own Life. With an Introduction by Mrs. 
 H. B. Stowe. 
 
 John P. Jewett $ Co. Boston. 1858. 12 
 
 While Josiah Henson was not really the original of Uncle Tom (the 
 latter being an entirely imaginary character), yet his life was in 
 many respects a parallel to that of Mrs. Stowe s hero.] 
 
 [Reviews in Leading Periodicals as follows : 
 
 Prospective Review. London. 1852. Vol. 8. p. 490. 1853. 
 
 Vol. 9. p. 248. 
 
 Chambers s Edinburgh Journal. Edinburgh. 1852. Vol. 19. pp. 
 
 155,187. 1853. Vol.19, p. 85. 
 
 Southern Literary Messenger. Richmond. 1852. Vol. 18. pp. 620, 
 
 721. 1853. Vol.19, p. 321. 
 
 Southern Quarterly Review. Charleston, S. C. 1853. Vol. 23. p. 81. 
 
 1854. Vol.24, p. 214. 
 
 Christian Observer. London. 1852. Vol. 52. p. 695. 
 
 Irish Quarterly Review. Dublin. 1856. Vol. 6. p. 766. 
 
 Western Journal and Civilian. St. Louis. 1853. Vol. 9. p. 133. 
 
 Vol. 10. p. 319 (A. Beatty). 
 
 Putnam s Monthly Magazine. Neio York. 1853. Vol. 1. p. 97. 
 
 ("Success of U. T. C.") 
 
 Atlantic Monthly. Boston. 1879. Vol.43, p. 407 (W. D. Howells). 
 
 1896. Vol. 78. p. 311 ("The Story of U. T. C.," by C. D. 
 
 Warner). 
 
 Manhattan. New York. 1882. Vol. 1. p. 28 (W. H. Forman). 
 Andover Review. Boston. 1885. Vol.4, p. 363. ("Is it a Novel?") 
 Magazine of American History. New York. 1890. Vol. 23. p. 16 
 (F/Y. McCray). 
 
 Magazine of Western History. New York. 1890. Vol. 12. p. 24. 
 ("Origin of U. T. C.," by H. D. Teetor.) 
 
 [Discourses on Special Occasions and Miscellaneous Papers. By Cor 
 nelius Van Santvoord. 
 
 M. W. Dodd, New York. 1856. 12 
 Contains a chapter entitled " Uncle Tom s Cabin and Colonization."] 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 FROM the foregoing it will be seen that in the Library of 
 the British Museum there are 35 editions of the original 
 English, the complete text, and 9 of abridgments or adapta 
 tions. 
 
 Of translations in different languages there are 19 : viz. 
 
476 UNCLE TOM S CABIN 
 
 Armenian, 1 ; Bohemian, 1 ; Danish, 2 distinct versions ; Dutch 
 1 ; Finnish, 1 ; Flemish, 1 ; French, 8 distinct versions and 2 
 dramas ; German, 5 distinct versions an^ 4 abridgments ; 
 Hungarian, 1 complete version, 1 for children, and 1 versified 
 abridgment ; Illyrian, 2 distinct versions ; Italian, 1 ; Polish, 2 
 distinct versions ; Portuguese, 1 ; Romaic or Modern Greek, 1 ; 
 Russian, 2 distinct versions; Spanish, 6 distinct versions; 
 Swedish, 1 abridgment for children; Wallachian, 2 distinct 
 versions ; Welsh, 3 distinct versions. 
 
 Of the " Key to Uncle Tom s Cabin," there are 3 editions in 
 English, 2 in French, 1 in German, and 1 in Spanish. 
 
 Of works on the subject of " Uncle Tom s Cabin," separately 
 published, there are 9. 
 
 Of Reviews and Notices of it in Periodicals there are 49 : 
 viz. 31 for the United Kingdom, of which 7 are Welsh ; 6 for 
 the United States ; and 12 for other countries. 
 
 This list is, however, by no means complete. 
 
 Of Translations, etc., not in the British Museum list, there 
 are : Bohemian, 1, a distinct version from that mentioned 
 above ; Danish, 1 ; Dutch, 2 ; French, 5 distinct versions, 1 
 drama, and a chanson ; German, 4 distinct versions ; Italian, 2 ; 
 Polish, 1 ; Russian, 3 distinct versions and 1 abridgment ; 
 Servian, 1 ; Swedish, 3 and a translation of the " Key ; " and 
 Welsh, 1. 
 
 [Of English editions, adaptations, reviews, etc., not in the 
 British Museum list, there are 6 complete editions, 1 drama 
 tization of a portion, 1 edition of the "Key," 1 edition of 
 Father Henson s Life, 4 reviews published separately, 4 re 
 views in British periodicals, and 9 reviews in American peri 
 odicals.] 
 
 
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 LD 2lA-60m-10, 65 
 
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 General Library . 
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