wohnzimmer schrankwand zu verschenken

chapter viiieliza's escape eliza made her desperate retreat across theriver just in the dusk of twilight. the gray mist of evening, rising slowlyfrom the river, enveloped her as she disappeared up the bank, and the swollencurrent and floundering masses of ice presented a hopeless barrier between herand her pursuer. haley therefore slowly and discontentedlyreturned to the little tavern, to ponder further what was to be done. the woman opened to him the door of alittle parlor, covered with a rag carpet, where stood a table with a very shiningblack oil-cloth, sundry lank, high-backed

wood chairs, with some plaster images in resplendent colors on the mantel-shelf,above a very dimly-smoking grate; a long hard-wood settle extended its uneasy lengthby the chimney, and here haley sat him down to meditate on the instability of humanhopes and happiness in general. "what did i want with the little cuss,now," he said to himself, "that i should have got myself treed like a coon, as i am,this yer way?" and haley relieved himself by repeating over a not very select litany of imprecations on himself, which, thoughthere was the best possible reason to consider them as true, we shall, as amatter of taste, omit.

he was startled by the loud and dissonantvoice of a man who was apparently dismounting at the door.he hurried to the window. "by the land! if this yer an't the nearest,now, to what i've heard folks call providence," said haley."i do b'lieve that ar's tom loker." haley hastened out. standing by the bar, in the corner of theroom, was a brawny, muscular man, full six feet in height, and broad in proportion. he was dressed in a coat of buffalo-skin,made with the hair outward, which gave him a shaggy and fierce appearance, perfectlyin keeping with the whole air of his

physiognomy. in the head and face every organ andlineament expressive of brutal and unhesitating violence was in a state of thehighest possible development. indeed, could our readers fancy a bull-dogcome unto man's estate, and walking about in a hat and coat, they would have no unaptidea of the general style and effect of his physique. he was accompanied by a travellingcompanion, in many respects an exact contrast to himself. he was short and slender, lithe and catlikein his motions, and had a peering, mousing

expression about his keen black eyes, withwhich every feature of his face seemed sharpened into sympathy; his thin, long nose, ran out as if it was eager to boreinto the nature of things in general; his sleek, thin, black hair was stuck eagerlyforward, and all his motions and evolutions expressed a dry, cautious acuteness. the great man poured out a big tumbler halffull of raw spirits, and gulped it down without a word. the little man stood tiptoe, and puttinghis head first to one side and then the other, and snuffing considerately in thedirections of the various bottles, ordered

at last a mint julep, in a thin and quivering voice, and with an air of greatcircumspection. when poured out, he took it and looked atit with a sharp, complacent air, like a man who thinks he has done about the rightthing, and hit the nail on the head, and proceeded to dispose of it in short andwell-advised sips. "wal, now, who'd a thought this yer luck'ad come to me? why, loker, how are ye?" said haley, comingforward, and extending his hand to the big man."the devil!" was the civil reply. "what brought you here, haley?"

the mousing man, who bore the name ofmarks, instantly stopped his sipping, and, poking his head forward, looked shrewdly onthe new acquaintance, as a cat sometimes looks at a moving dry leaf, or some otherpossible object of pursuit. "i say, tom, this yer's the luckiest thingin the world. i'm in a devil of a hobble, and you musthelp me out." "ugh? aw! like enough!" grunted hiscomplacent acquaintance. "a body may be pretty sure of that, whenyou're glad to see 'em; something to be made off of 'em.what's the blow now?" "you've got a friend here?" said haley,looking doubtfully at marks; "partner,

perhaps?""yes, i have. here, marks! here's that ar feller that iwas in with in natchez." "shall be pleased with his acquaintance,"said marks, thrusting out a long, thin hand, like a raven's claw. "mr. haley, i believe?""the same, sir," said haley. "and now, gentlemen, seein' as we've met sohappily, i think i'll stand up to a small matter of a treat in this here parlor. so, now, old coon," said he to the man atthe bar, "get us hot water, and sugar, and cigars, and plenty of the real stuff andwe'll have a blow-out."

behold, then, the candles lighted, the firestimulated to the burning point in the grate, and our three worthies seated rounda table, well spread with all the accessories to good fellowship enumeratedbefore. haley began a pathetic recital of hispeculiar troubles. loker shut up his mouth, and listened tohim with gruff and surly attention. marks, who was anxiously and with muchfidgeting compounding a tumbler of punch to his own peculiar taste, occasionally lookedup from his employment, and, poking his sharp nose and chin almost into haley's face, gave the most earnest heed to thewhole narrative.

the conclusion of it appeared to amuse himextremely, for he shook his shoulders and sides in silence, and perked up his thinlips with an air of great internal enjoyment. "so, then, ye'r fairly sewed up, an't ye?"he said; "he! he! he! it's neatly done, too." "this yer young-un business makes lots oftrouble in the trade," said haley, dolefully. "if we could get a breed of gals thatdidn't care, now, for their young uns," said marks; "tell ye, i think 't would be'bout the greatest mod'rn improvement i

knows on,"--and marks patronized his jokeby a quiet introductory sniggle. "jes so," said haley; "i never couldn't seeinto it; young uns is heaps of trouble to 'em; one would think, now, they'd be gladto get clar on 'em; but they arn't. and the more trouble a young un is, and themore good for nothing, as a gen'l thing, the tighter they sticks to 'em.""wal, mr. haley," said marks, "'est pass the hot water. yes, sir, you say 'est what i feel andall'us have. now, i bought a gal once, when i was in thetrade,--a tight, likely wench she was, too, and quite considerable smart,--and she hada young un that was mis'able sickly; it had

a crooked back, or something or other; and i jest gin 't away to a man that thoughthe'd take his chance raising on 't, being it didn't cost nothin';--never thought, yerknow, of the gal's takin' on about it,-- but, lord, yer oughter seen how she wenton. why, re'lly, she did seem to me to valleythe child more 'cause 't was sickly and cross, and plagued her; and she warn'tmaking b'lieve, neither,--cried about it, she did, and lopped round, as if she'd lostevery friend she had. it re'lly was droll to think on 't.lord, there ain't no end to women's notions."

"wal, jest so with me," said haley. "last summer, down on red river, i got agal traded off on me, with a likely lookin' child enough, and his eyes looked as brightas yourn; but, come to look, i found him stone blind. fact--he was stone blind. wal, ye see, i thought there warn't no harmin my jest passing him along, and not sayin' nothin'; and i'd got him nicelyswapped off for a keg o' whiskey; but come to get him away from the gal, she was jestlike a tiger. so 't was before we started, and i hadn'tgot my gang chained up; so what should she

do but ups on a cotton-bale, like a cat,ketches a knife from one of the deck hands, and, i tell ye, she made all fly for a minit, till she saw 't wan't no use; andshe jest turns round, and pitches head first, young un and all, into the river,--went down plump, and never ris." "bah!" said tom loker, who had listened tothese stories with ill-repressed disgust,-- "shif'less, both on ye! my gals don't cutup no such shines, i tell ye!" "indeed! how do you help it?" said marks,briskly. "help it? why, i buys a gal, and if she'sgot a young un to be sold, i jest walks up and puts my fist to her face, and says,'look here, now, if you give me one word

out of your head, i'll smash yer face in. i won't hear one word--not the beginning ofa word.' i says to 'em, 'this yer young un's mine,and not yourn, and you've no kind o' business with it. i'm going to sell it, first chance; mind,you don't cut up none o' yer shines about it, or i'll make ye wish ye'd never beenborn.' i tell ye, they sees it an't no play, wheni gets hold. i makes 'em as whist as fishes; and if oneon 'em begins and gives a yelp, why,--" and mr. loker brought down his fist with athump that fully explained the hiatus.

"that ar's what ye may call emphasis," saidmarks, poking haley in the side, and going into another small giggle."an't tom peculiar? he! he! i say, tom, i s'pect you make 'emunderstand, for all niggers' heads is woolly.they don't never have no doubt o' your meaning, tom. if you an't the devil, tom, you 's his twinbrother, i'll say that for ye!" tom received the compliment with becomingmodesty, and began to look as affable as was consistent, as john bunyan says, "withhis doggish nature." haley, who had been imbibing very freely ofthe staple of the evening, began to feel a

sensible elevation and enlargement of hismoral faculties,--a phenomenon not unusual with gentlemen of a serious and reflectiveturn, under similar circumstances. "wal, now, tom," he said, "ye re'lly is toobad, as i al'ays have told ye; ye know, tom, you and i used to talk over these yermatters down in natchez, and i used to prove to ye that we made full as much, and was as well off for this yer world, bytreatin' on 'em well, besides keepin' a better chance for comin' in the kingdom atlast, when wust comes to wust, and thar an't nothing else left to get, ye know." "boh!" said tom, "don't i know?--don't makeme too sick with any yer stuff,--my stomach

is a leetle riled now;" and tom drank halfa glass of raw brandy. "i say," said haley, and leaning back inhis chair and gesturing impressively, "i'll say this now, i al'ays meant to drive mytrade so as to make money on 't fust and foremost, as much as any man; but, then, trade an't everything, and money an'teverything, 'cause we 's all got souls. i don't care, now, who hears me say it,--and i think a cussed sight on it,--so i may as well come out with it. i b'lieve in religion, and one of thesedays, when i've got matters tight and snug, i calculates to tend to my soul and them armatters; and so what's the use of doin' any

more wickedness than 's re'lly necessary?--it don't seem to me it's 't all prudent." "tend to yer soul!" repeated tom,contemptuously; "take a bright lookout to find a soul in you,--save yourself any careon that score. if the devil sifts you through a hairsieve, he won't find one." "why, tom, you're cross," said haley; "whycan't ye take it pleasant, now, when a feller's talking for your good?" "stop that ar jaw o' yourn, there," saidtom, gruffly. "i can stand most any talk o' yourn butyour pious talk,--that kills me right up. after all, what's the odds between me andyou?

'tan't that you care one bit more, or havea bit more feelin'--it's clean, sheer, dog meanness, wanting to cheat the devil andsave your own skin; don't i see through it? and your 'gettin' religion,' as you callit, arter all, is too p'isin mean for any crittur;--run up a bill with the devil allyour life, and then sneak out when pay time comes! bob!""come, come, gentlemen, i say; this isn't business," said marks."there's different ways, you know, of looking at all subjects. mr. haley is a very nice man, no doubt, andhas his own conscience; and, tom, you have

your ways, and very good ones, too, tom;but quarrelling, you know, won't answer no kind of purpose. let's go to business.now, mr. haley, what is it?--you want us to undertake to catch this yer gal?""the gal's no matter of mine,--she's shelby's; it's only the boy. i was a fool for buying the monkey!""you're generally a fool!" said tom, gruffly. "come, now, loker, none of your huffs,"said marks, licking his lips; "you see, mr. haley 's a puttin' us in a way of a goodjob, i reckon; just hold still--these yer

arrangements is my forte. this yer gal, mr. haley, how is she? whatis she?" "wal! white and handsome--well brought up.i'd a gin shelby eight hundred or a thousand, and then made well on her." "white and handsome--well brought up!" saidmarks, his sharp eyes, nose and mouth, all alive with enterprise."look here, now, loker, a beautiful opening. we'll do a business here on our ownaccount;--we does the catchin'; the boy, of course, goes to mr. haley,--we takes thegal to orleans to speculate on.

an't it beautiful?" tom, whose great heavy mouth had stood ajarduring this communication, now suddenly snapped it together, as a big dog closes ona piece of meat, and seemed to be digesting the idea at his leisure. "ye see," said marks to haley, stirring hispunch 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 theswearin' 's to be done.

you oughter see, now," said marks, in aglow 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 worksseven hundred niggers; then, again, i come out a distant relation of henry clay, orsome old cock in kentuck. talents is different, you know. now, tom's roarer when there's any thumpingor fighting to be done; but at lying he an't good, tom an't,--ye see it don't comenatural to him; but, lord, if thar's a feller in the country that can swear to

anything and everything, and put in all thecircumstances and flourishes with a long 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 andsnake through, even if justices were more particular than they is. sometimes i rather wish they was moreparticular; 't would be a heap more relishin' if they was,--more fun, yerknow." tom loker, who, as we have made it appear,was a man of slow thoughts and movements, here interrupted marks by bringing hisheavy fist down on the table, so as to make all ring again, "it'll do!" he said.

"lord bless ye, tom, ye needn't break allthe glasses!" said marks; "save your fist for time o' need.""but, gentlemen, an't i to come in for a share of the profits?" said haley. "an't it enough we catch the boy for ye?"said loker. "what do ye want?" "wal," said haley, "if i gives you the job,it's worth something,--say ten per cent. on the profits, expenses paid." "now," said loker, with a tremendous oath,and striking the table with his heavy fist, "don't i know you, dan haley?don't you think to come it over me!

suppose marks and i have taken up thecatchin' trade, jest to 'commodate gentlemen like you, and get nothin' forourselves?--not by a long chalk! we'll have the gal out and out, and you keep quiet, or, ye see, we'll have both,--what's tohinder? han't you show'd us the game?it's as free to us as you, i hope. if you or shelby wants to chase us, lookwhere the partridges was last year; if you find them or us, you're quite welcome." "o, wal, certainly, jest let it go atthat," said haley, alarmed; "you catch the boy for the job;--you allers did trade farwith me, tom, and was up to yer word."

"ye know that," said tom; "i don't pretendnone of your snivelling ways, but i won't lie in my 'counts with the devil himself.what i ses i'll do, i will do,--you know that, dan haley." "jes so, jes so,--i said so, tom," saidhaley; "and if you'd only promise to have the boy for me in a week, at any pointyou'll name, that's all i want." "but it an't all i want, by a long jump,"said tom. "ye don't think i did business with you,down in natchez, for nothing, haley; i've learned to hold an eel, when i catch him. you've got to fork over fifty dollars, flatdown, or this child don't start a peg.

i know yer." "why, when you have a job in hand that maybring a clean profit of somewhere about a thousand or sixteen hundred, why, tom,you're onreasonable," said haley. "yes, and hasn't we business booked forfive weeks to come,--all we can do? and suppose we leaves all, and goes tobush-whacking round arter yer young uns, and finally doesn't catch the gal,--andgals allers is the devil to catch,--what's then? would you pay us a cent--would you? i think i see you a doin' it--ugh!no, no; flap down your fifty. if we get the job, and it pays, i'll handit back; if we don't, it's for our

trouble,--that's far, an't it, marks?" "certainly, certainly," said marks, with aconciliatory tone; "it's only a retaining fee, you see,--he! he! he!--we lawyers, youknow. wal, we must all keep good-natured,--keepeasy, yer know. tom'll have the boy for yer, anywhere ye'llname; won't ye, tom?" "if i find the young un, i'll bring him onto cincinnati, and leave him at granny belcher's, on the landing," said loker. marks had got from his pocket a greasypocket-book, and taking a long paper from thence, he sat down, and fixing his keenblack eyes on it, began mumbling over its

contents: "barnes--shelby county--boy jim, three hundred dollars for him, dead oralive. "edwards--dick and lucy--man and wife, sixhundred dollars; wench polly and two children--six hundred for her or her head. "i'm jest a runnin' over our business, tosee if we can take up this yer handily. loker," he said, after a pause, "we mustset adams and springer on the track of these yer; they've been booked some time." "they'll charge too much," said tom."i'll manage that ar; they 's young in the business, and must spect to work cheap,"said marks, as he continued to read.

"ther's three on 'em easy cases, 'cause allyou've got to do is to shoot 'em, or swear they is shot; they couldn't, of course,charge much for that. them other cases," he said, folding thepaper, "will bear puttin' off a spell. so now let's come to the particulars.now, mr. haley, you saw this yer gal when she landed?" "to be sure,--plain as i see you.""and a man helpin' on her up the bank?" said loker."to be sure, i did." "most likely," said marks, "she's took insomewhere; but where, 's a question. tom, what do you say?""we must cross the river tonight, no

mistake," said tom. "but there's no boat about," said marks."the ice is running awfully, tom; an't it dangerous?""don'no nothing 'bout that,--only it's got to be done," said tom, decidedly. "dear me," said marks, fidgeting, "it'llbe--i say," he said, walking to the window, "it's dark as a wolf's mouth, and, tom--" "the long and short is, you're scared,marks; but i can't help that,--you've got to go. suppose you want to lie by a day or two,till the gal 's been carried on the

underground line up to sandusky or so,before you start." "o, no; i an't a grain afraid," said marks,"only--" "only what?" said tom."well, about the boat. yer see there an't any boat." "i heard the woman say there was one comingalong this evening, and that a man was going to cross over in it.neck or nothing, we must go with him," said tom. "i s'pose you've got good dogs," saidhaley. "first rate," said marks."but what's the use? you han't got nothin'

o' hers to smell on." "yes, i have," said haley, triumphantly."here's her shawl she left on the bed in her hurry; she left her bonnet, too.""that ar's lucky," said loker; "fork over." "though the dogs might damage the gal, ifthey come on her unawars," said haley. "that ar's a consideration," said marks. "our dogs tore a feller half to pieces,once, down in mobile, 'fore we could get 'em off." "well, ye see, for this sort that's to besold for their looks, that ar won't answer, ye see," said haley."i do see," said marks.

"besides, if she's got took in, 'tan't nogo, neither. dogs is no 'count in these yer up stateswhere these critters gets carried; of course, ye can't get on their track. they only does down in plantations, whereniggers, when they runs, has to do their own running, and don't get no help." "well," said loker, who had just steppedout to the bar to make some inquiries, "they say the man's come with the boat; so,marks--" that worthy cast a rueful look at thecomfortable quarters he was leaving, but slowly rose to obey.

after exchanging a few words of furtherarrangement, haley, with visible reluctance, handed over the fifty dollarsto tom, and the worthy trio separated for the night. if any of our refined and christian readersobject to the society into which this scene introduces them, let us beg them to beginand conquer their prejudices in time. the catching business, we beg to remindthem, is rising to the dignity of a lawful and patriotic profession. if all the broad land between themississippi and the pacific becomes one great market for bodies and souls, andhuman property retains the locomotive

tendencies of this nineteenth century, the trader and catcher may yet be among ouraristocracy. while this scene was going on at thetavern, sam and andy, in a state of high felicitation, pursued their way home. sam was in the highest possible feather,and expressed his exultation by all sorts of supernatural howls and ejaculations, bydivers odd motions and contortions of his whole system. sometimes he would sit backward, with hisface to the horse's tail and sides, and then, with a whoop and a somerset, comeright side up in his place again, and,

drawing on a grave face, begin to lecture andy in high-sounding tones for laughingand playing the fool. anon, slapping his sides with his arms, hewould burst forth in peals of laughter, that made the old woods ring as theypassed. with all these evolutions, he contrived tokeep the horses up to the top of their speed, until, between ten and eleven, theirheels resounded on the gravel at the end of the balcony. mrs. shelby flew to the railings."is that you, sam? where are they?""mas'r haley 's a-restin' at the tavern;

he's drefful fatigued, missis." "and eliza, sam?""wal, she's clar 'cross jordan. as a body may say, in the land o' canaan." "why, sam, what do you mean?" said mrs.shelby, breathless, and almost faint, as the possible meaning of these words cameover her. "wal, missis, de lord he persarves his own. lizy's done gone over the river into 'hio,as 'markably as if de lord took her over in a charrit of fire and two hosses." sam's vein of piety was always uncommonlyfervent in his mistress' presence; and he

made great capital of scriptural figuresand images. "come up here, sam," said mr. shelby, whohad followed on to the verandah, "and tell your mistress what she wants. come, come, emily," said he, passing hisarm round her, "you are cold and all in a shiver; you allow yourself to feel toomuch." "feel too much! am not i a woman,--a mother?are we not both responsible to god for this poor girl?my god! lay not this sin to our charge." "what sin, emily?

you see yourself that we have only donewhat we were obliged to." "there's an awful feeling of guilt aboutit, though," said mrs. shelby. "i can't reason it away." "here, andy, you nigger, be alive!" calledsam, under the verandah; "take these yer hosses to der barn; don't ye hear mas'r acallin'?" and sam soon appeared, palm-leaf in hand, at the parlor door. "now, sam, tell us distinctly how thematter was," said mr. shelby. "where is eliza, if you know?""wal, mas'r, i saw her, with my own eyes, a crossin' on the floatin' ice.

she crossed most 'markably; it wasn't noless nor a miracle; and i saw a man help her up the 'hio side, and then she was lostin the dusk." "sam, i think this rather apocryphal,--thismiracle. crossing on floating ice isn't so easilydone," said mr. shelby. "easy! couldn't nobody a done it, withoutde lord. why, now," said sam, "'t was jist dis yerway. mas'r haley, and me, and andy, we comes upto de little tavern by the river, and i rides a leetle ahead,--(i's so zealous tobe a cotchin' lizy, that i couldn't hold in, no way),--and when i comes by the

tavern winder, sure enough there she was,right in plain sight, and dey diggin' on behind.wal, i loses off my hat, and sings out nuff to raise the dead. course lizy she hars, and she dodges back,when mas'r haley he goes past the door; and then, i tell ye, she clared out de sidedoor; she went down de river bank;--mas'r haley he seed her, and yelled out, and him,and me, and andy, we took arter. down she come to the river, and thar wasthe current running ten feet wide by the shore, and over t' other side ice a sawin'and a jiggling up and down, kinder as 't were a great island.

we come right behind her, and i thought mysoul he'd got her sure enough,--when she gin sich a screech as i never hearn, andthar she was, clar over t' other side of the current, on the ice, and then on she went, a screeching and a jumpin',--the icewent crack! c'wallop! cracking! chunk! and she a boundin' like a buck!lord, the spring that ar gal's got in her an't common, i'm o' 'pinion." mrs. shelby sat perfectly silent, pale withexcitement, while sam told his story. "god be praised, she isn't dead!" she said;"but where is the poor child now?" "de lord will pervide," said sam, rollingup his eyes piously.

"as i've been a sayin', dis yer 's aprovidence and no mistake, as missis has allers been a instructin' on us. thar's allers instruments ris up to do delord's will. now, if 't hadn't been for me today, she'da been took a dozen times. warn't it i started off de hosses, dis yermornin' and kept 'em chasin' till nigh dinner time? and didn't i car mas'r haley night fivemiles out of de road, dis evening, or else he'd a come up with lizy as easy as a dogarter a coon. these yer 's all providences."

"they are a kind of providences that you'llhave to be pretty sparing of, master sam. i allow no such practices with gentlemen onmy place," said mr. shelby, with as much sternness as he could command, under thecircumstances. now, there is no more use in making believebe angry with a negro than with a child; both instinctively see the true state ofthe case, through all attempts to affect the contrary; and sam was in no wise disheartened by this rebuke, though heassumed an air of doleful gravity, and stood with the corners of his mouth loweredin most penitential style. "mas'r quite right,--quite; it was ugly onme,--there's no disputin' that ar; and of

course mas'r and missis wouldn't encourageno such works. i'm sensible of dat ar; but a poor niggerlike me 's 'mazin' tempted to act ugly sometimes, when fellers will cut up suchshines as dat ar mas'r haley; he an't no gen'l'man no way; anybody's been raised asi've been can't help a seein' dat ar." "well, sam," said mrs. shelby, "as youappear to have a proper sense of your errors, you may go now and tell aunt chloeshe may get you some of that cold ham that was left of dinner today. you and andy must be hungry.""missis is a heap too good for us," said sam, making his bow with alacrity, anddeparting.

it will be perceived, as has been beforeintimated, that master sam had a native talent that might, undoubtedly, have raisedhim to eminence in political life,--a talent of making capital out of everything that turned up, to be invested for his ownespecial praise and glory; and having done up his piety and humility, as he trusted,to the satisfaction of the parlor, he clapped his palm-leaf on his head, with a sort of rakish, free-and-easy air, andproceeded to the dominions of aunt chloe, with the intention of flourishing largelyin the kitchen. "i'll speechify these yer niggers," saidsam to himself, "now i've got a chance.

lord, i'll reel it off to make 'em stare!" it must be observed that one of sam'sespecial delights had been to ride in attendance on his master to all kinds ofpolitical gatherings, where, roosted on some rail fence, or perched aloft in some tree, he would sit watching the orators,with the greatest apparent gusto, and then, descending among the various brethren ofhis own color, assembled on the same errand, he would edify and delight them with the most ludicrous burlesques andimitations, all delivered with the most imperturbable earnestness and solemnity;and though the auditors immediately about

him were generally of his own color, it not infrequently happened that they werefringed pretty deeply with those of a fairer complexion, who listened, laughingand winking, to sam's great self- congratulation. in fact, sam considered oratory as hisvocation, and never let slip an opportunity of magnifying his office. now, between sam and aunt chloe there hadexisted, from ancient times, a sort of chronic feud, or rather a decided coolness;but, as sam was meditating something in the provision department, as the necessary and

obvious foundation of his operations, hedetermined, on the present occasion, to be eminently conciliatory; for he well knewthat although "missis' orders" would undoubtedly be followed to the letter, yet he should gain a considerable deal byenlisting the spirit also. he therefore appeared before aunt chloewith a touchingly subdued, resigned expression, like one who has sufferedimmeasurable hardships in behalf of a persecuted fellow-creature,--enlarged upon the fact that missis had directed him tocome to aunt chloe for whatever might be wanting to make up the balance in hissolids and fluids,--and thus unequivocally

acknowledged her right and supremacy in the cooking department, and all theretopertaining. the thing took accordingly. no poor, simple, virtuous body was evercajoled by the attentions of an electioneering politician with more easethan aunt chloe was won over by master sam's suavities; and if he had been the prodigal son himself, he could not havebeen overwhelmed with more maternal bountifulness; and he soon found himselfseated, happy and glorious, over a large tin pan, containing a sort of olla podrida

of all that had appeared on the table fortwo or three days past. savory morsels of ham, golden blocks ofcorn-cake, fragments of pie of every conceivable mathematical figure, chickenwings, gizzards, and drumsticks, all appeared in picturesque confusion; and sam, as monarch of all he surveyed, sat with hispalm-leaf cocked rejoicingly to one side, and patronizing andy at his right hand. the kitchen was full of all his compeers,who had hurried and crowded in, from the various cabins, to hear the termination ofthe day's exploits. now was sam's hour of glory.

the story of the day was rehearsed, withall kinds of ornament and varnishing which might be necessary to heighten its effect;for sam, like some of our fashionable dilettanti, never allowed a story to lose any of its gilding by passing through hishands. roars of laughter attended the narration,and were taken up and prolonged by all the smaller fry, who were lying, in anyquantity, about on the floor, or perched in every corner. in the height of the uproar and laughter,sam, however, preserved an immovable gravity, only from time to time rolling hiseyes up, and giving his auditors divers

inexpressibly droll glances, without departing from the sententious elevation ofhis oratory. "yer see, fellow-countrymen," said sam,elevating a turkey's leg, with energy, "yer see, now what dis yer chile 's up ter, forfendin' yer all,--yes, all on yer. for him as tries to get one o' our peopleis as good as tryin' to get all; yer see the principle 's de same,--dat ar's clar. and any one o' these yer drivers that comessmelling round arter any our people, why, he's got me in his way; i'm the feller he'sgot to set in with,--i'm the feller for yer all to come to, bredren,--i'll stand up for

yer rights,--i'll fend 'em to the lastbreath!" "why, but sam, yer telled me, only thismornin', that you'd help this yer mas'r to cotch lizy; seems to me yer talk don't hangtogether," said andy. "i tell you now, andy," said sam, withawful superiority, "don't yer be a talkin' 'bout what yer don't know nothin' on; boyslike you, andy, means well, but they can't be spected to collusitate the greatprinciples of action." andy looked rebuked, particularly by thehard word collusitate, which most of the youngerly members of the company seemed toconsider as a settler in the case, while sam proceeded.

"dat ar was conscience, andy; when ithought of gwine arter lizy, i railly spected mas'r was sot dat way. when i found missis was sot the contrar,dat ar was conscience more yet,--cause fellers allers gets more by stickin' tomissis' side,--so yer see i 's persistent either way, and sticks up to conscience,and holds on to principles. yes, principles," said sam, giving anenthusiastic toss to a chicken's neck,-- "what's principles good for, if we isn'tpersistent, i wanter know? thar, andy, you may have dat ar bone,--tan't picked quite clean." sam's audience hanging on his words withopen mouth, he could not but proceed.

"dis yer matter 'bout persistence, feller-niggers," said sam, with the air of one entering into an abstruse subject, "dis yer'sistency 's a thing what an't seed into very clar, by most anybody. now, yer see, when a feller stands up for athing one day and night, de contrar de next, folks ses (and nat'rally enough deyses), why he an't persistent,--hand me dat ar bit o' corn-cake, andy. but let's look inter it.i hope the gen'lmen and der fair sex will scuse my usin' an or'nary sort o' 'parison.here! i'm a trying to get top o' der hay.

wal, i puts up my larder dis yer side;'tan't no go;--den, cause i don't try dere no more, but puts my larder right decontrar side, an't i persistent? i'm persistent in wantin' to get up whichary side my larder is; don't you see, all on yer?" "it's the only thing ye ever was persistentin, lord knows!" muttered aunt chloe, who was getting rather restive; the merrimentof the evening being to her somewhat after the scripture comparison,--like "vinegarupon nitre." "yes, indeed!" said sam, rising, full ofsupper and glory, for a closing effort. "yes, my feller-citizens and ladies of deother sex in general, i has principles,--

i'm proud to 'oon 'em,--they 's perquisiteto dese yer times, and ter all times. i has principles, and i sticks to 'em likeforty,--jest anything that i thinks is principle, i goes in to 't;--i wouldn'tmind if dey burnt me 'live,--i'd walk right up to de stake, i would, and say, here i comes to shed my last blood fur myprinciples, fur my country, fur de gen'l interests of society." "well," said aunt chloe, "one o' yerprinciples will have to be to get to bed some time tonight, and not be a keepin'everybody up till mornin'; now, every one of you young uns that don't want to be

cracked, had better be scase, mightysudden." "niggers! all on yer," said sam, waving hispalm-leaf with benignity, "i give yer my blessin'; go to bed now, and be good boys." and, with this pathetic benediction, theassembly dispersed. > chapter ixin which it appears that a senator is but a man the light of the cheerful fire shone on therug and carpet of a cosey parlor, and glittered on the sides of the tea-cups andwell-brightened tea-pot, as senator bird

was drawing off his boots, preparatory to inserting his feet in a pair of newhandsome slippers, which his wife had been working for him while away on hissenatorial tour. mrs. bird, looking the very picture ofdelight, was superintending the arrangements of the table, ever and anonmingling admonitory remarks to a number of frolicsome juveniles, who were effervescing in all those modes of untold gambol andmischief that have astonished mothers ever since the flood."tom, let the door-knob alone,--there's a man!

mary!mary! don't pull the cat's tail,--poor pussy! jim, you mustn't climb on that table,--no,no!--you don't know, my dear, what a surprise it is to us all, to see you heretonight!" said she, at last, when she found a space to say something to her husband. "yes, yes, i thought i'd just make a rundown, spend the night, and have a little comfort at home.i'm tired to death, and my head aches!" mrs. bird cast a glance at a camphor-bottle, which stood in the half-open closet, and appeared to meditate anapproach to it, but her husband interposed.

"no, no, mary, no doctoring! a cup of yourgood hot tea, and some of our good home living, is what i want.it's a tiresome business, this legislating!" and the senator smiled, as if he ratherliked the idea of considering himself a sacrifice to his country. "well," said his wife, after the businessof the tea-table was getting rather slack, "and what have they been doing in thesenate?" now, it was a very unusual thing for gentlelittle mrs. bird ever to trouble her head with what was going on in the house of thestate, very wisely considering that she had

enough to do to mind her own. mr. bird, therefore, opened his eyes insurprise, and said, "not very much of importance." "well; but is it true that they have beenpassing a law forbidding people to give meat and drink to those poor colored folksthat come along? i heard they were talking of some such law,but i didn't think any christian legislature would pass it!""why, mary, you are getting to be a politician, all at once." "no, nonsense!i wouldn't give a fig for all your

politics, generally, but i think this issomething downright cruel and unchristian. i hope, my dear, no such law has beenpassed." "there has been a law passed forbiddingpeople to help off the slaves that come over from kentucky, my dear; so much ofthat thing has been done by these reckless abolitionists, that our brethren in kentucky are very strongly excited, and itseems necessary, and no more than christian and kind, that something should be done byour state to quiet the excitement." "and what is the law? it don't forbid us to shelter those poorcreatures a night, does it, and to give 'em

something comfortable to eat, and a few oldclothes, and send them quietly about their business?" "why, yes, my dear; that would be aidingand abetting, you know." mrs. bird was a timid, blushing littlewoman, of about four feet in height, and with mild blue eyes, and a peach-blowcomplexion, and the gentlest, sweetest voice in the world;--as for courage, a moderate-sized cock-turkey had been knownto put her to rout at the very first gobble, and a stout house-dog, of moderatecapacity, would bring her into subjection merely by a show of his teeth.

her husband and children were her entireworld, and in these she ruled more by entreaty and persuasion than by command orargument. there was only one thing that was capableof arousing her, and that provocation came in on the side of her unusually gentle andsympathetic nature;--anything in the shape of cruelty would throw her into a passion, which was the more alarming andinexplicable in proportion to the general softness of her nature. generally the most indulgent and easy to beentreated of all mothers, still her boys had a very reverent remembrance of a mostvehement chastisement she once bestowed on

them, because she found them leagued with several graceless boys of the neighborhood,stoning a defenceless kitten. "i'll tell you what," master bill used tosay, "i was scared that time. mother came at me so that i thought she wascrazy, and i was whipped and tumbled off to bed, without any supper, before i could getover wondering what had come about; and, after that, i heard mother crying outside the door, which made me feel worse than allthe rest. i'll tell you what," he'd say, "we boysnever stoned another kitten!" on the present occasion, mrs. bird rosequickly, with very red cheeks, which quite

improved her general appearance, and walkedup to her husband, with quite a resolute air, and said, in a determined tone, "now, john, i want to know if you thinksuch a law as that is right and christian?" "you won't shoot me, now, mary, if i say ido!" "i never could have thought it of you,john; you didn't vote for it?" "even so, my fair politician.""you ought to be ashamed, john! poor, homeless, houseless creatures! it's a shameful, wicked, abominable law,and i'll break it, for one, the first time i get a chance; and i hope i shall have achance, i do!

things have got to a pretty pass, if awoman can't give a warm supper and a bed to poor, starving creatures, just because theyare slaves, and have been abused and oppressed all their lives, poor things!" "but, mary, just listen to me. your feelings are all quite right, dear,and interesting, and i love you for them; but, then, dear, we mustn't suffer ourfeelings to run away with our judgment; you must consider it's a matter of private feeling,--there are great public interestsinvolved,--there is such a state of public agitation rising, that we must put asideour private feelings."

"now, john, i don't know anything aboutpolitics, but i can read my bible; and there i see that i must feed the hungry,clothe the naked, and comfort the desolate; and that bible i mean to follow." "but in cases where your doing so wouldinvolve a great public evil--" "obeying god never brings on public evils.i know it can't. it's always safest, all round, to do as hebids us. "now, listen to me, mary, and i can stateto you a very clear argument, to show--" "o, nonsense, john! you can talk all night,but you wouldn't do it. i put it to you, john,--would you now turnaway a poor, shivering, hungry creature

from your door, because he was a runaway? would you, now?" now, if the truth must be told, our senatorhad the misfortune to be a man who had a particularly humane and accessible nature,and turning away anybody that was in trouble never had been his forte; and what was worse for him in this particular pinchof the argument was, that his wife knew it, and, of course was making an assault onrather an indefensible point. so he had recourse to the usual means ofgaining time for such cases made and provided; he said "ahem," and coughedseveral times, took out his pocket-

handkerchief, and began to wipe hisglasses. mrs. bird, seeing the defenceless conditionof the enemy's territory, had no more conscience than to push her advantage. "i should like to see you doing that, john--i really should! turning a woman out of doors in asnowstorm, for instance; or may be you'd take her up and put her in jail, wouldn'tyou? you would make a great hand at that!" "of course, it would be a very painfulduty," began mr. bird, in a moderate tone. "duty, john! don't use that word!you know it isn't a duty--it can't be a

duty! if folks want to keep their slaves fromrunning away, let 'em treat 'em well,-- that's my doctrine. if i had slaves (as i hope i never shallhave), i'd risk their wanting to run away from me, or you either, john. i tell you folks don't run away when theyare happy; and when they do run, poor creatures! they suffer enough with cold andhunger and fear, without everybody's turning against them; and, law or no law,i never will, so help me god!" "mary!mary!

my dear, let me reason with you." "i hate reasoning, john,--especiallyreasoning on such subjects. there's a way you political folks have ofcoming round and round a plain right thing; and you don't believe in it yourselves,when it comes to practice. i know you well enough, john. you don't believe it's right any more thani do; and you wouldn't do it any sooner than i." at this critical juncture, old cudjoe, theblack man-of-all-work, put his head in at the door, and wished "missis would comeinto the kitchen;" and our senator,

tolerably relieved, looked after his little wife with a whimsical mixture of amusementand vexation, and, seating himself in the arm-chair, began to read the papers. after a moment, his wife's voice was heardat the door, in a quick, earnest tone,-- "john!john! i do wish you'd come here, a moment." he laid down his paper, and went into thekitchen, and started, quite amazed at the sight that presented itself:--a young andslender woman, with garments torn and frozen, with one shoe gone, and the

stocking torn away from the cut andbleeding foot, was laid back in a deadly swoon upon two chairs. there was the impress of the despised raceon her face, yet none could help feeling its mournful and pathetic beauty, while itsstony sharpness, its cold, fixed, deathly aspect, struck a solemn chill over him. he drew his breath short, and stood insilence. his wife, and their only colored domestic,old aunt dinah, were busily engaged in restorative measures; while old cudjoe hadgot the boy on his knee, and was busy pulling off his shoes and stockings, andchafing his little cold feet.

"sure, now, if she an't a sight to behold!"said old dinah, compassionately; "'pears like 't was the heat that made her faint. she was tol'able peart when she cum in, andasked if she couldn't warm herself here a spell; and i was just a-askin' her whereshe cum from, and she fainted right down. never done much hard work, guess, by thelooks of her hands." "poor creature!" said mrs. bird,compassionately, as the woman slowly unclosed her large, dark eyes, and lookedvacantly at her. suddenly an expression of agony crossed herface, and she sprang up, saying, "o, my harry!have they got him?"

the boy, at this, jumped from cudjoe'sknee, and running to her side put up his arms."o, he's here! he's here!" she exclaimed. "o, ma'am!" said she, wildly, to mrs. bird,"do protect us! don't let them get him!" "nobody shall hurt you here, poor woman,"said mrs. bird, encouragingly. "you are safe; don't be afraid." "god bless you!" said the woman, coveringher face and sobbing; while the little boy, seeing her crying, tried to get into herlap. with many gentle and womanly offices, whichnone knew better how to render than mrs. bird, the poor woman was, in time, renderedmore calm.

a temporary bed was provided for her on thesettle, near the fire; and, after a short time, she fell into a heavy slumber, withthe child, who seemed no less weary, soundly sleeping on her arm; for the mother resisted, with nervous anxiety, the kindestattempts to take him from her; and, even in sleep, her arm encircled him with anunrelaxing clasp, as if she could not even then be beguiled of her vigilant hold. mr. and mrs. bird had gone back to theparlor, where, strange as it may appear, no reference was made, on either side, to thepreceding conversation; but mrs. bird busied herself with her knitting-work, andmr. bird pretended to be reading the paper.

"i wonder who and what she is!" said mr.bird, at last, as he laid it down. "when she wakes up and feels a littlerested, we will see," said mrs. bird. "i say, wife!" said mr. bird after musingin silence over his newspaper. "well, dear!" "she couldn't wear one of your gowns, couldshe, by any letting down, or such matter? she seems to be rather larger than youare." a quite perceptible smile glimmered on mrs.bird's face, as she answered, "we'll see." another pause, and mr. bird again brokeout, "i say, wife!"

"well!what now?" "why, there's that old bombazin cloak, thatyou keep on purpose to put over me when i take my afternoon's nap; you might as wellgive her that,--she needs clothes." at this instant, dinah looked in to saythat the woman was awake, and wanted to see missis. mr. and mrs. bird went into the kitchen,followed by the two eldest boys, the smaller fry having, by this time, beensafely disposed of in bed. the woman was now sitting up on the settle,by the fire. she was looking steadily into the blaze,with a calm, heart-broken expression, very

different from her former agitatedwildness. "did you want me?" said mrs. bird, ingentle tones. "i hope you feel better now, poor woman!" a long-drawn, shivering sigh was the onlyanswer; but she lifted her dark eyes, and fixed them on her with such a forlorn andimploring expression, that the tears came into the little woman's eyes. "you needn't be afraid of anything; we arefriends here, poor woman! tell me where you came from, and what youwant," said she. "i came from kentucky," said the woman.

"when?" said mr. bird, taking up theinterogatory. "tonight.""how did you come?" "i crossed on the ice." "crossed on the ice!" said every onepresent. "yes," said the woman, slowly, "i did. god helping me, i crossed on the ice; forthey were behind me--right behind--and there was no other way!" "law, missis," said cudjoe, "the ice is allin broken-up blocks, a swinging and a tetering up and down in the water!""i know it was--i know it!" said she,

wildly; "but i did it! i wouldn't have thought i could,--i didn'tthink i should get over, but i didn't care! i could but die, if i didn't. the lord helped me; nobody knows how muchthe lord can help 'em, till they try," said the woman, with a flashing eye."were you a slave?" said mr. bird. "yes, sir; i belonged to a man inkentucky." "was he unkind to you?""no, sir; he was a good master." "and was your mistress unkind to you?" "no, sir--no! my mistress was always goodto me."

"what could induce you to leave a goodhome, then, and run away, and go through such dangers?" the woman looked up at mrs. bird, with akeen, scrutinizing glance, and it did not escape her that she was dressed in deepmourning. "ma'am," she said, suddenly, "have you everlost a child?" the question was unexpected, and it wasthrust on a new wound; for it was only a month since a darling child of the familyhad been laid in the grave. mr. bird turned around and walked to thewindow, and mrs. bird burst into tears; but, recovering her voice, she said,"why do you ask that?

i have lost a little one." "then you will feel for me.i have lost two, one after another,--left 'em buried there when i came away; and ihad only this one left. i never slept a night without him; he wasall i had. he was my comfort and pride, day and night;and, ma'am, they were going to take him away from me,--to sell him,--sell him downsouth, ma'am, to go all alone,--a baby that had never been away from his mother in hislife! i couldn't stand it, ma'am. i knew i never should be good for anything,if they did; and when i knew the papers the

papers were signed, and he was sold, i tookhim and came off in the night; and they chased me,--the man that bought him, and some of mas'r's folks,--and they werecoming down right behind me, and i heard 'em. i jumped right on to the ice; and how i gotacross, i don't know,--but, first i knew, a man was helping me up the bank."the woman did not sob nor weep. she had gone to a place where tears aredry; but every one around her was, in some way characteristic of themselves, showingsigns of hearty sympathy. the two little boys, after a desperaterummaging in their pockets, in search of

those pocket-handkerchiefs which mothersknow are never to be found there, had thrown themselves disconsolately into the skirts of their mother's gown, where theywere sobbing, and wiping their eyes and noses, to their hearts' content;--mrs. birdhad her face fairly hidden in her pocket- handkerchief; and old dinah, with tears streaming down her black, honest face, wasejaculating, "lord have mercy on us!" with all the fervor of a camp-meeting;--whileold cudjoe, rubbing his eyes very hard with his cuffs, and making a most uncommon variety of wry faces, occasionallyresponded in the same key, with great

fervor. our senator was a statesman, and of coursecould not be expected to cry, like other mortals; and so he turned his back to thecompany, and looked out of the window, and seemed particularly busy in clearing his throat and wiping his spectacle-glasses,occasionally blowing his nose in a manner that was calculated to excite suspicion,had any one been in a state to observe critically. "how came you to tell me you had a kindmaster?" he suddenly exclaimed, gulping down very resolutely some kind of rising inhis throat, and turning suddenly round upon

the woman. "because he was a kind master; i'll saythat of him, any way;--and my mistress was kind; but they couldn't help themselves. they were owing money; and there was someway, i can't tell how, that a man had a hold on them, and they were obliged to givehim his will. i listened, and heard him telling mistressthat, and she begging and pleading for me -,-and he told her he couldn't help himself,and that the papers were all drawn;--and then it was i took him and left my home,and came away. i knew 't was no use of my trying to live,if they did it; for 't 'pears like this

child is all i have." "have you no husband?""yes, but he belongs to another man. his master is real hard to him, and won'tlet him come to see me, hardly ever; and he's grown harder and harder upon us, andhe threatens to sell him down south;--it's like i'll never see him again!" the quiet tone in which the womanpronounced these words might have led a superficial observer to think that she wasentirely apathetic; but there was a calm, settled depth of anguish in her large, darkeye, that spoke of something far otherwise. "and where do you mean to go, my poorwoman?" said mrs. bird.

"to canada, if i only knew where that was. is it very far off, is canada?" said she,looking up, with a simple, confiding air, to mrs. bird's face."poor thing!" said mrs. bird, involuntarily. "is 't a very great way off, think?" saidthe woman, earnestly. "much further than you think, poor child!"said mrs. bird; "but we will try to think what can be done for you. here, dinah, make her up a bed in your ownroom, close by the kitchen, and i'll think what to do for her in the morning.meanwhile, never fear, poor woman; put your

trust in god; he will protect you." mrs. bird and her husband reentered theparlor. she sat down in her little rocking-chairbefore the fire, swaying thoughtfully to and fro. mr. bird strode up and down the room,grumbling to himself, "pish! pshaw! confounded awkward business!"at length, striding up to his wife, he said, "i say, wife, she'll have to get away fromhere, this very night. that fellow will be down on the scentbright and early tomorrow morning: if 't

was only the woman, she could lie quiettill it was over; but that little chap can't be kept still by a troop of horse and foot, i'll warrant me; he'll bring it allout, popping his head out of some window or door. a pretty kettle of fish it would be for me,too, to be caught with them both here, just now!no; they'll have to be got off tonight." "tonight! how is it possible?--where to?" "well, i know pretty well where to," saidthe senator, beginning to put on his boots,

with a reflective air; and, stopping whenhis leg was half in, he embraced his knee with both hands, and seemed to go off indeep meditation. "it's a confounded awkward, ugly business,"said he, at last, beginning to tug at his boot-straps again, "and that's a fact!" after one boot was fairly on, the senatorsat with the other in his hand, profoundly studying the figure of the carpet. "it will have to be done, though, for aughti see,--hang it all!" and he drew the other boot anxiously on, and looked out of thewindow. now, little mrs. bird was a discreetwoman,--a woman who never in her life said,

"i told you so!" and, on the presentoccasion, though pretty well aware of the shape her husband's meditations were taking, she very prudently forbore tomeddle with them, only sat very quietly in her chair, and looked quite ready to hearher liege lord's intentions, when he should think proper to utter them. "you see," he said, "there's my old client,van trompe, has come over from kentucky, and set all his slaves free; and he hasbought a place seven miles up the creek, here, back in the woods, where nobody goes, unless they go on purpose; and it's a placethat isn't found in a hurry.

there she'd be safe enough; but the plagueof the thing is, nobody could drive a carriage there tonight, but me." "why not?cudjoe is an excellent driver." "ay, ay, but here it is. the creek has to be crossed twice; and thesecond crossing is quite dangerous, unless one knows it as i do. i have crossed it a hundred times onhorseback, and know exactly the turns to take.and so, you see, there's no help for it. cudjoe must put in the horses, as quietlyas may be, about twelve o'clock, and i'll

take her over; and then, to give color tothe matter, he must carry me on to the next tavern to take the stage for columbus, that comes by about three or four, and so itwill look as if i had had the carriage only for that.i shall get into business bright and early in the morning. but i'm thinking i shall feel rather cheapthere, after all that's been said and done; but, hang it, i can't help it!" "your heart is better than your head, inthis case, john," said the wife, laying her little white hand on his."could i ever have loved you, had i not

known you better than you know yourself?" and the little woman looked so handsome,with the tears sparkling in her eyes, that the senator thought he must be a decidedlyclever fellow, to get such a pretty creature into such a passionate admiration of him; and so, what could he do but walkoff soberly, to see about the carriage. at the door, however, he stopped a moment,and then coming back, he said, with some hesitation. "mary, i don't know how you'd feel aboutit, but there's that drawer full of things- -of--of--poor little henry's."so saying, he turned quickly on his heel,

and shut the door after him. his wife opened the little bed-room dooradjoining her room and, taking the candle, set it down on the top of a bureau there;then from a small recess she took a key, and put it thoughtfully in the lock of a drawer, and made a sudden pause, while twoboys, who, boy like, had followed close on her heels, stood looking, with silent,significant glances, at their mother. and oh! mother that reads this, has therenever been in your house a drawer, or a closet, the opening of which has been toyou like the opening again of a little grave?

ah! happy mother that you are, if it hasnot been so. mrs. bird slowly opened the drawer. there were little coats of many a form andpattern, piles of aprons, and rows of small stockings; and even a pair of little shoes,worn and rubbed at the toes, were peeping from the folds of a paper. there was a toy horse and wagon, a top, aball,--memorials gathered with many a tear and many a heart-break! she sat down by the drawer, and, leaningher head on her hands over it, wept till the tears fell through her fingers into thedrawer; then suddenly raising her head, she

began, with nervous haste, selecting the plainest and most substantial articles, andgathering them into a bundle. "mamma," said one of the boys, gentlytouching her arm, "you going to give away those things?" "my dear boys," she said, softly andearnestly, "if our dear, loving little henry looks down from heaven, he would beglad to have us do this. i could not find it in my heart to givethem away to any common person--to anybody that was happy; but i give them to a mothermore heart-broken and sorrowful than i am; and i hope god will send his blessings withthem!"

there are in this world blessed souls,whose sorrows all spring up into joys for others; whose earthly hopes, laid in thegrave with many tears, are the seed from which spring healing flowers and balm forthe desolate and the distressed. among such was the delicate woman who sitsthere by the lamp, dropping slow tears, while she prepares the memorials of her ownlost one for the outcast wanderer. after a while, mrs. bird opened a wardrobe,and, taking from thence a plain, serviceable dress or two, she sat downbusily to her work-table, and, with needle, scissors, and thimble, at hand, quietly commenced the "letting down" process whichher husband had recommended, and continued

busily at it till the old clock in thecorner struck twelve, and she heard the low rattling of wheels at the door. "mary," said her husband, coming in, withhis overcoat in his hand, "you must wake her up now; we must be off." mrs. bird hastily deposited the variousarticles she had collected in a small plain trunk, and locking it, desired her husbandto see it in the carriage, and then proceeded to call the woman. soon, arrayed in a cloak, bonnet, andshawl, that had belonged to her benefactress, she appeared at the door withher child in her arms.

mr. bird hurried her into the carriage, andmrs. bird pressed on after her to the carriage steps. eliza leaned out of the carriage, and putout her hand,--a hand as soft and beautiful as was given in return. she fixed her large, dark eyes, full ofearnest meaning, on mrs. bird's face, and seemed going to speak. her lips moved,--she tried once or twice,but there was no sound,--and pointing upward, with a look never to be forgotten,she fell back in the seat, and covered her face.

the door was shut, and the carriage droveon. what a situation, now, for a patrioticsenator, that had been all the week before spurring up the legislature of his nativestate to pass more stringent resolutions against escaping fugitives, their harborersand abettors! our good senator in his native state hadnot been exceeded by any of his brethren at washington, in the sort of eloquence whichhas won for them immortal renown! how sublimely he had sat with his hands inhis pockets, and scouted all sentimental weakness of those who would put the welfareof a few miserable fugitives before great state interests!

he was as bold as a lion about it, and"mightily convinced" not only himself, but everybody that heard him;--but then hisidea of a fugitive was only an idea of the letters that spell the word,--or at the most, the image of a little newspaperpicture of a man with a stick and bundle with "ran away from the subscriber" underit. the magic of the real presence ofdistress,--the imploring human eye, the frail, trembling human hand, the despairingappeal of helpless agony,--these he had never tried. he had never thought that a fugitive mightbe a hapless mother, a defenceless child,--

like that one which was now wearing hislost boy's little well-known cap; and so, as our poor senator was not stone or steel,--as he was a man, and a downrightnoble-hearted one, too,--he was, as everybody must see, in a sad case for hispatriotism. and you need not exult over him, goodbrother of the southern states; for we have some inklings that many of you, undersimilar circumstances, would not do much better. we have reason to know, in kentucky, as inmississippi, are noble and generous hearts, to whom never was tale of suffering told invain.

ah, good brother! is it fair for you toexpect of us services which your own brave, honorable heart would not allow you torender, were you in our place? be that as it may, if our good senator wasa political sinner, he was in a fair way to expiate it by his night's penance. there had been a long continuous period ofrainy weather, and the soft, rich earth of ohio, as every one knows, is admirablysuited to the manufacture of mud--and the road was an ohio railroad of the good oldtimes. "and pray, what sort of a road may thatbe?" says some eastern traveller, who has been accustomed to connect no ideas with arailroad, but those of smoothness or speed.

know, then, innocent eastern friend, thatin benighted regions of the west, where the mud is of unfathomable and sublime depth,roads are made of round rough logs, arranged transversely side by side, and coated over in their pristine freshnesswith earth, turf, and whatsoever may come to hand, and then the rejoicing nativecalleth it a road, and straightway essayeth to ride thereupon. in process of time, the rains wash off allthe turf and grass aforesaid, move the logs hither and thither, in picturesquepositions, up, down and crosswise, with divers chasms and ruts of black mudintervening.

over such a road as this our senator wentstumbling along, making moral reflections as continuously as under the circumstancescould be expected,--the carriage proceeding along much as follows,--bump! bump! bump! slush! down in the mud!--the senator, womanand child, reversing their positions so suddenly as to come, without any veryaccurate adjustment, against the windows of the down-hill side. carriage sticks fast, while cudjoe on theoutside is heard making a great muster among the horses. after various ineffectual pullings andtwitchings, just as the senator is losing

all patience, the carriage suddenly rightsitself with a bounce,--two front wheels go down into another abyss, and senator, woman, and child, all tumble promiscuouslyon to the front seat,--senator's hat is jammed over his eyes and nose quiteunceremoniously, and he considers himself fairly extinguished;--child cries, and cudjoe on the outside delivers animatedaddresses to the horses, who are kicking, and floundering, and straining underrepeated cracks of the whip. carriage springs up, with another bounce,--down go the hind wheels,--senator, woman, and child, fly over on to the back seat,his elbows encountering her bonnet, and

both her feet being jammed into his hat,which flies off in the concussion. after a few moments the "slough" is passed,and the horses stop, panting;--the senator finds his hat, the woman straightens herbonnet and hushes her child, and they brace themselves for what is yet to come. for a while only the continuous bump! bump!intermingled, just by way of variety, with divers side plunges and compound shakes;and they begin to flatter themselves that they are not so badly off, after all. at last, with a square plunge, which putsall on to their feet and then down into their seats with incredible quickness, thecarriage stops,--and, after much outside

commotion, cudjoe appears at the door. "please, sir, it's powerful bad spot, this'yer. i don't know how we's to get clar out.i'm a thinkin' we'll have to be a gettin' rails." the senator despairingly steps out, pickinggingerly for some firm foothold; down goes one foot an immeasurable depth,--he triesto pull it up, loses his balance, and tumbles over into the mud, and is fished out, in a very despairing condition, bycudjoe. but we forbear, out of sympathy to ourreaders' bones.

western travellers, who have beguiled themidnight hour in the interesting process of pulling down rail fences, to pry theircarriages out of mud holes, will have a respectful and mournful sympathy with ourunfortunate hero. we beg them to drop a silent tear, and passon. it was full late in the night when thecarriage emerged, dripping and bespattered, out of the creek, and stood at the door ofa large farmhouse. it took no inconsiderable perseverance toarouse the inmates; but at last the respectable proprietor appeared, and undidthe door. he was a great, tall, bristling orson of afellow, full six feet and some inches in

his stockings, and arrayed in a red flannelhunting-shirt. a very heavy mat of sandy hair, in adecidedly tousled condition, and a beard of some days' growth, gave the worthy man anappearance, to say the least, not particularly prepossessing. he stood for a few minutes holding thecandle aloft, and blinking on our travellers with a dismal and mystifiedexpression that was truly ludicrous. it cost some effort of our senator toinduce him to comprehend the case fully; and while he is doing his best at that, weshall give him a little introduction to our readers.

honest old john van trompe was once quite aconsiderable land-owner and slave-owner in the state of kentucky. having "nothing of the bear about him butthe skin," and being gifted by nature with a great, honest, just heart, quite equal tohis gigantic frame, he had been for some years witnessing with repressed uneasiness the workings of a system equally bad foroppressor and oppressed. at last, one day, john's great heart hadswelled altogether too big to wear his bonds any longer; so he just took hispocket-book out of his desk, and went over into ohio, and bought a quarter of a

township of good, rich land, made out freepapers for all his people,--men, women, and children,--packed them up in wagons, andsent them off to settle down; and then honest john turned his face up the creek, and sat quietly down on a snug, retiredfarm, to enjoy his conscience and his reflections. "are you the man that will shelter a poorwoman and child from slave-catchers?" said the senator, explicitly."i rather think i am," said honest john, with some considerable emphasis. "i thought so,"' said the senator.

"if there's anybody comes," said the goodman, stretching his tall, muscular form upward, "why here i'm ready for him: andi've got seven sons, each six foot high, and they'll be ready for 'em. give our respects to 'em," said john; "tell'em it's no matter how soon they call,-- make no kinder difference to us," saidjohn, running his fingers through the shock of hair that thatched his head, andbursting out into a great laugh. weary, jaded, and spiritless, eliza draggedherself up to the door, with her child lying in a heavy sleep on her arm. the rough man held the candle to her face,and uttering a kind of compassionate grunt,

opened the door of a small bed-roomadjoining to the large kitchen where they were standing, and motioned her to go in. he took down a candle, and lighting it, setit upon the table, and then addressed himself to eliza."now, i say, gal, you needn't be a bit afeard, let who will come here. i'm up to all that sort o' thing," said he,pointing to two or three goodly rifles over the mantel-piece; "and most people thatknow me know that 't wouldn't be healthy to try to get anybody out o' my house when i'magin it. so now you jist go to sleep now, as quietas if yer mother was a rockin' ye," said

he, as he shut the door. "why, this is an uncommon handsome un," hesaid to the senator. "ah, well; handsome uns has the greatestcause to run, sometimes, if they has any kind o' feelin, such as decent womenshould. i know all about that." the senator, in a few words, brieflyexplained eliza's history. "o! ou! aw! now, i want to know?" said thegood man, pitifully; "sho! now sho! that's natur now, poor crittur! hunted downnow like a deer,--hunted down, jest for havin' natural feelin's, and doin' what nokind o' mother could help a doin'!

i tell ye what, these yer things make mecome the nighest to swearin', now, o' most anything," said honest john, as he wipedhis eyes with the back of a great, freckled, yellow hand. "i tell yer what, stranger, it was yearsand years before i'd jine the church, 'cause the ministers round in our partsused to preach that the bible went in for these ere cuttings up,--and i couldn't be up to 'em with their greek and hebrew, andso i took up agin 'em, bible and all. i never jined the church till i found aminister that was up to 'em all in greek and all that, and he said right thecontrary; and then i took right hold, and

jined the church,--i did now, fact," said john, who had been all this time uncorkingsome very frisky bottled cider, which at this juncture he presented. "ye'd better jest put up here, now, tilldaylight," said he, heartily, "and i'll call up the old woman, and have a bed gotready for you in no time." "thank you, my good friend," said thesenator, "i must be along, to take the night stage for columbus." "ah! well, then, if you must, i'll go apiece with you, and show you a cross road that will take you there better than theroad you came on.

that road's mighty bad." john equipped himself, and, with a lanternin hand, was soon seen guiding the senator's carriage towards a road that randown in a hollow, back of his dwelling. when they parted, the senator put into hishand a ten-dollar bill. "it's for her," he said, briefly."ay, ay," said john, with equal conciseness. they shook hands, and parted. chapter xthe property is carried off the february morning looked gray anddrizzling through the window of uncle tom's

cabin.it looked on downcast faces, the images of mournful hearts. the little table stood out before the fire,covered with an ironing-cloth; a coarse but clean shirt or two, fresh from the iron,hung on the back of a chair by the fire, and aunt chloe had another spread outbefore her on the table. carefully she rubbed and ironed every foldand every hem, with the most scrupulous exactness, every now and then raising herhand to her face to wipe off the tears that were coursing down her cheeks. tom sat by, with his testament open on hisknee, and his head leaning upon his hand;--

but neither spoke. it was yet early, and the children lay allasleep together in their little rude trundle-bed. tom, who had, to the full, the gentle,domestic heart, which woe for them! has been a peculiar characteristic of hisunhappy race, got up and walked silently to look at his children. "it's the last time," he said. aunt chloe did not answer, only rubbed awayover and over on the coarse shirt, already as smooth as hands could make it; andfinally setting her iron suddenly down with

a despairing plunge, she sat down to thetable, and "lifted up her voice and wept." "s'pose we must be resigned; but oh lord!how ken i? if i know'd anything whar you 's goin', orhow they'd sarve you! missis says she'll try and 'deem ye, in ayear or two; but lor! nobody never comes up that goes down thar! they kills 'em!i've hearn 'em tell how dey works 'em up on dem ar plantations.""there'll be the same god there, chloe, that there is here." "well," said aunt chloe, "s'pose dere will;but de lord lets drefful things happen,

sometimes.i don't seem to get no comfort dat way." "i'm in the lord's hands," said tom;"nothin' can go no furder than he lets it;- -and thar's one thing i can thank him for.it's me that's sold and going down, and not you nur the chil'en. here you're safe;--what comes will comeonly on me; and the lord, he'll help me,--i know he will."ah, brave, manly heart,--smothering thine own sorrow, to comfort thy beloved ones! tom spoke with a thick utterance, and witha bitter choking in his throat,--but he spoke brave and strong.

"let's think on our marcies!" he added,tremulously, as if he was quite sure he needed to think on them very hard indeed."marcies!" said aunt chloe; "don't see no marcy in 't! 'tan't right! tan't right it should be so!mas'r never ought ter left it so that ye could be took for his debts.ye've arnt him all he gets for ye, twice over. he owed ye yer freedom, and ought ter gin't to yer years ago. mebbe he can't help himself now, but i feelit's wrong. nothing can't beat that ar out o' me.

sich a faithful crittur as ye've been,--andallers sot his business 'fore yer own every way,--and reckoned on him more than yer ownwife and chil'en! them as sells heart's love and heart'sblood, to get out thar scrapes, de lord'll be up to 'em!" "chloe! now, if ye love me, ye won't talkso, when perhaps jest the last time we'll ever have together!and i'll tell ye, chloe, it goes agin me to hear one word agin mas'r. wan't he put in my arms a baby?--it's naturi should think a heap of him. and he couldn't be spected to think so muchof poor tom.

mas'rs is used to havin' all these yerthings done for 'em, and nat'lly they don't think so much on 't.they can't be spected to, no way. set him 'longside of other mas'rs--who'shad the treatment and livin' i've had? and he never would have let this yer comeon me, if he could have seed it aforehand. i know he wouldn't." "wal, any way, thar's wrong about itsomewhar," said aunt chloe, in whom a stubborn sense of justice was a predominanttrait; "i can't jest make out whar 't is, but thar's wrong somewhar, i'm clar o'that." "yer ought ter look up to the lord above--he's above all--thar don't a sparrow fall

without him." "it don't seem to comfort me, but i spectit orter," said aunt chloe. "but dar's no use talkin'; i'll jes wet upde corn-cake, and get ye one good breakfast, 'cause nobody knows when you'llget another." in order to appreciate the sufferings ofthe negroes sold south, it must be remembered that all the instinctiveaffections of that race are peculiarly strong. their local attachments are very abiding.they are not naturally daring and enterprising, but home-loving andaffectionate.

add to this all the terrors with whichignorance invests the unknown, and add to this, again, that selling to the south isset before the negro from childhood as the last severity of punishment. the threat that terrifies more thanwhipping or torture of any kind is the threat of being sent down river. we have ourselves heard this feelingexpressed by them, and seen the unaffected horror with which they will sit in theirgossipping hours, and tell frightful stories of that "down river," which to themis "that undiscovered country, from whosebourn no traveller returns."

(note: a slightly inaccurate quotation fromhamlet, act iii, scene i, lines 369-370.) a missionary figure among the fugitives incanada told us that many of the fugitives confessed themselves to have escaped fromcomparatively kind masters, and that they were induced to brave the perils of escape, in almost every case, by the desperatehorror with which they regarded being sold south,--a doom which was hanging eitherover themselves or their husbands, their wives or children. this nerves the african, naturally patient,timid and unenterprising, with heroic courage, and leads him to suffer hunger,cold, pain, the perils of the wilderness,

and the more dread penalties of recapture. the simple morning meal now smoked on thetable, for mrs. shelby had excused aunt chloe's attendance at the great house thatmorning. the poor soul had expended all her littleenergies on this farewell feast,--had killed and dressed her choicest chicken,and prepared her corn-cake with scrupulous exactness, just to her husband's taste, and brought out certain mysterious jars on themantel-piece, some preserves that were never produced except on extreme occasions. "lor, pete," said mose, triumphantly,"han't we got a buster of a breakfast!" at

the same time catching at a fragment of thechicken. aunt chloe gave him a sudden box on theear. "thar now! crowing over the last breakfastyer poor daddy's gwine to have to home!" "o, chloe!" said tom, gently. "wal, i can't help it," said aunt chloe,hiding her face in her apron; "i 's so tossed about it, it makes me act ugly." the boys stood quite still, looking firstat their father and then at their mother, while the baby, climbing up her clothes,began an imperious, commanding cry. "thar!" said aunt chloe, wiping her eyesand taking up the baby; "now i's done, i

hope,--now do eat something.this yer's my nicest chicken. thar, boys, ye shall have some, poorcritturs! yer mammy's been cross to yer." the boys needed no second invitation, andwent in with great zeal for the eatables; and it was well they did so, as otherwisethere would have been very little performed to any purpose by the party. "now," said aunt chloe, bustling aboutafter breakfast, "i must put up yer clothes.jest like as not, he'll take 'em all away. i know thar ways--mean as dirt, they is!

wal, now, yer flannels for rhumatis is inthis corner; so be careful, 'cause there won't nobody make ye no more.then here's yer old shirts, and these yer is new ones. i toed off these yer stockings last night,and put de ball in 'em to mend with. but lor! who'll ever mend for ye?" and auntchloe, again overcome, laid her head on the box side, and sobbed. "to think on 't! no crittur to do for ye,sick or well! i don't railly think i ought ter be goodnow!" the boys, having eaten everything there wason the breakfast-table, began now to take

some thought of the case; and, seeing theirmother crying, and their father looking very sad, began to whimper and put theirhands to their eyes. uncle tom had the baby on his knee, and wasletting her enjoy herself to the utmost extent, scratching his face and pulling hishair, and occasionally breaking out into clamorous explosions of delight, evidently arising out of her own internalreflections. "ay, crow away, poor crittur!" said auntchloe; "ye'll have to come to it, too! ye'll live to see yer husband sold, ormebbe be sold yerself; and these yer boys, they's to be sold, i s'pose, too, jest like

as not, when dey gets good for somethin';an't no use in niggers havin' nothin'!" here one of the boys called out, "thar'smissis a-comin' in!" "she can't do no good; what's she comingfor?" said aunt chloe. mrs. shelby entered.aunt chloe set a chair for her in a manner decidedly gruff and crusty. she did not seem to notice either theaction or the manner. she looked pale and anxious. "tom," she said, "i come to--" and stoppingsuddenly, and regarding the silent group, she sat down in the chair, and, coveringher face with her handkerchief, began to

sob. "lor, now, missis, don't--don't!" said auntchloe, bursting out in her turn; and for a few moments they all wept in company. and in those tears they all shed together,the high and the lowly, melted away all the heart-burnings and anger of the oppressed. o, ye who visit the distressed, do ye knowthat everything your money can buy, given with a cold, averted face, is not worth onehonest tear shed in real sympathy? "my good fellow," said mrs. shelby, "ican't give you anything to do you any good. if i give you money, it will only be takenfrom you.

but i tell you solemnly, and before god,that i will keep trace of you, and bring you back as soon as i can command themoney;--and, till then, trust in god!" here the boys called out that mas'r haleywas coming, and then an unceremonious kick pushed open the door. haley stood there in very ill humor, havingridden hard the night before, and being not at all pacified by his ill success inrecapturing his prey. "come," said he, "ye nigger, ye'r ready? servant, ma'am!" said he, taking off hishat, as he saw mrs. shelby. aunt chloe shut and corded the box, and,getting up, looked gruffly on the trader,

her tears seeming suddenly turned to sparksof fire. tom rose up meekly, to follow his newmaster, and raised up his heavy box on his shoulder. his wife took the baby in her arms to gowith him to the wagon, and the children, still crying, trailed on behind. mrs. shelby, walking up to the trader,detained him for a few moments, talking with him in an earnest manner; and whileshe was thus talking, the whole family party proceeded to a wagon, that stoodready harnessed at the door. a crowd of all the old and young hands onthe place stood gathered around it, to bid

farewell to their old associate. tom had been looked up to, both as a headservant and a christian teacher, by all the place, and there was much honest sympathyand grief about him, particularly among the women. "why, chloe, you bar it better 'n we do!"said one of the women, who had been weeping freely, noticing the gloomy calmness withwhich aunt chloe stood by the wagon. "i's done my tears!" she said, lookinggrimly at the trader, who was coming up. "i does not feel to cry 'fore dat ar oldlimb, no how!" "get in!" said haley to tom, as he strodethrough the crowd of servants, who looked

at him with lowering brows. tom got in, and haley, drawing out fromunder the wagon seat a heavy pair of shackles, made them fast around each ankle. a smothered groan of indignation ranthrough the whole circle, and mrs. shelby spoke from the verandah,--"mr. haley, iassure you that precaution is entirely unnecessary." "don' know, ma'am; i've lost one fivehundred dollars from this yer place, and i can't afford to run no more risks." "what else could she spect on him?" saidaunt chloe, indignantly, while the two

boys, who now seemed to comprehend at oncetheir father's destiny, clung to her gown, sobbing and groaning vehemently. "i'm sorry," said tom, "that mas'r georgehappened to be away." george had gone to spend two or three dayswith a companion on a neighboring estate, and having departed early in the morning,before tom's misfortune had been made public, had left without hearing of it. "give my love to mas'r george," he said,earnestly. haley whipped up the horse, and, with asteady, mournful look, fixed to the last on the old place, tom was whirled away.

mr. shelby at this time was not at home. he had sold tom under the spur of a drivingnecessity, to get out of the power of a man whom he dreaded,--and his first feeling,after the consummation of the bargain, had been that of relief. but his wife's expostulations awoke hishalf-slumbering regrets; and tom's manly disinterestedness increased theunpleasantness of his feelings. it was in vain that he said to himself thathe had a right to do it,--that everybody did it,--and that some did it without eventhe excuse of necessity;--he could not satisfy his own feelings; and that he might

not witness the unpleasant scenes of theconsummation, he had gone on a short business tour up the country, hoping thatall would be over before he returned. tom and haley rattled on along the dustyroad, whirling past every old familiar spot, until the bounds of the estate werefairly passed, and they found themselves out on the open pike. after they had ridden about a mile, haleysuddenly drew up at the door of a blacksmith's shop, when, taking out withhim a pair of handcuffs, he stepped into the shop, to have a little alteration inthem. "these yer 's a little too small for hisbuild," said haley, showing the fetters,

and pointing out to tom. "lor! now, if thar an't shelby's tom.he han't sold him, now?" said the smith. "yes, he has," said haley."now, ye don't! well, reely," said the smith, "who'd a thought it! why, ye needn't go to fetterin' him up thisyer way. he's the faithfullest, best crittur--" "yes, yes," said haley; "but your goodfellers are just the critturs to want ter run off. them stupid ones, as doesn't care whar theygo, and shifless, drunken ones, as don't

care for nothin', they'll stick by, andlike as not be rather pleased to be toted round; but these yer prime fellers, theyhates it like sin. no way but to fetter 'em; got legs,--they'll use 'em,--no mistake." "well," said the smith, feeling among histools, "them plantations down thar, stranger, an't jest the place a kentucknigger wants to go to; they dies thar tol'able fast, don't they?" "wal, yes, tol'able fast, ther dying is;what with the 'climating and one thing and another, they dies so as to keep the marketup pretty brisk," said haley. "wal, now, a feller can't help thinkin'it's a mighty pity to have a nice, quiet,

likely feller, as good un as tom is, godown to be fairly ground up on one of them ar sugar plantations." "wal, he's got a fa'r chance.i promised to do well by him. i'll get him in house-servant in some goodold family, and then, if he stands the fever and 'climating, he'll have a berthgood as any nigger ought ter ask for." "he leaves his wife and chil'en up here,s'pose?" "yes; but he'll get another thar.lord, thar's women enough everywhar," said haley. tom was sitting very mournfully on theoutside of the shop while this conversation

was going on. suddenly he heard the quick, short click ofa horse's hoof behind him; and, before he could fairly awake from his surprise, youngmaster george sprang into the wagon, threw his arms tumultuously round his neck, andwas sobbing and scolding with energy. "i declare, it's real mean!i don't care what they say, any of 'em! it's a nasty, mean shame! if i was a man, they shouldn't do it,--theyshould not, so!" said george, with a kind of subdued howl."o! mas'r george! this does me good!" said "i couldn't bar to go off without seein'ye!

it does me real good, ye can't tell!"here tom made some movement of his feet, and george's eye fell on the fetters. "what a shame!" he exclaimed, lifting hishands. "i'll knock that old fellow down--i will!""no you won't, mas'r george; and you must not talk so loud. it won't help me any, to anger him.""well, i won't, then, for your sake; but only to think of it--isn't it a shame? they never sent for me, nor sent me anyword, and, if it hadn't been for tom lincon, i shouldn't have heard it.i tell you, i blew 'em up well, all of 'em,

at home!" "that ar wasn't right, i'm 'feard, mas'rgeorge." "can't help it!i say it's a shame! look here, uncle tom," said he, turning hisback to the shop, and speaking in a mysterious tone, "i've brought you mydollar!" "o! i couldn't think o' takin' on 't, mas'rgeorge, no ways in the world!" said tom, quite moved. "but you shall take it!" said george; "lookhere--i told aunt chloe i'd do it, and she advised me just to make a hole in it, andput a string through, so you could hang it

round your neck, and keep it out of sight; else this mean scamp would take it away.i tell ye, tom, i want to blow him up! it would do me good!" "no, don't mas'r george, for it won't do meany good." "well, i won't, for your sake," saidgeorge, busily tying his dollar round tom's neck; "but there, now, button your coattight over it, and keep it, and remember, every time you see it, that i'll come downafter you, and bring you back. aunt chloe and i have been talking aboutit. i told her not to fear; i'll see to it, andi'll tease father's life out, if he don't

do it.""o! mas'r george, ye mustn't talk so 'bout yer father!" "lor, uncle tom, i don't mean anythingbad." "and now, mas'r george," said tom, "ye mustbe a good boy; 'member how many hearts is sot on ye. al'ays keep close to yer mother.don't be gettin' into any of them foolish ways boys has of gettin' too big to mindtheir mothers. tell ye what, mas'r george, the lord givesgood many things twice over; but he don't give ye a mother but once.

ye'll never see sich another woman, mas'rgeorge, if ye live to be a hundred years old. so, now, you hold on to her, and grow up,and be a comfort to her, thar's my own good boy,--you will now, won't ye?""yes, i will, uncle tom," said george seriously. "and be careful of yer speaking, mas'rgeorge. young boys, when they comes to your age, iswilful, sometimes--it is natur they should be. but real gentlemen, such as i hopes you'llbe, never lets fall on words that isn't

'spectful to thar parents.ye an't 'fended, mas'r george?" "no, indeed, uncle tom; you always did giveme good advice." "i's older, ye know," said tom, strokingthe boy's fine, curly head with his large, strong hand, but speaking in a voice astender as a woman's, "and i sees all that's bound up in you. o, mas'r george, you has everything,--l'arnin', privileges, readin', writin',-- and you'll grow up to be a great, learned,good man and all the people on the place and your mother and father'll be so proudon ye! be a good mas'r, like yer father; and be achristian, like yer mother.

'member yer creator in the days o' yeryouth, mas'r george." "i'll be real good, uncle tom, i tell you,"said george. "i'm going to be a first-rater; and don'tyou be discouraged. i'll have you back to the place, yet. as i told aunt chloe this morning, i'llbuild our house all over, and you shall have a room for a parlor with a carpet onit, when i'm a man. o, you'll have good times yet!" haley now came to the door, with thehandcuffs in his hands. "look here, now, mister," said george, withan air of great superiority, as he got out,

"i shall let father and mother know how youtreat uncle tom!" "you're welcome," said the trader. "i should think you'd be ashamed to spendall your life buying men and women, and chaining them, like cattle!i should think you'd feel mean!" said george. "so long as your grand folks wants to buymen and women, i'm as good as they is," said haley; "'tan't any meaner sellin' on'em, that 't is buyin'!" "i'll never do either, when i'm a man,"said george; "i'm ashamed, this day, that i'm a kentuckian.

i always was proud of it before;" andgeorge sat very straight on his horse, and looked round with an air, as if he expectedthe state would be impressed with his opinion. "well, good-by, uncle tom; keep a stiffupper lip," said george. "good-by, mas'r george," said tom, lookingfondly and admiringly at him. "god almighty bless you! ah!kentucky han't got many like you!" he said, in the fulness of his heart, as the frank,boyish face was lost to his view. away he went, and tom looked, till theclatter of his horse's heels died away, the

last sound or sight of his home. but over his heart there seemed to be awarm spot, where those young hands had placed that precious dollar.tom put up his hand, and held it close to his heart. "now, i tell ye what, tom," said haley, ashe came up to the wagon, and threw in the handcuffs, "i mean to start fa'r with ye,as i gen'ally do with my niggers; and i'll tell ye now, to begin with, you treat me fa'r, and i'll treat you fa'r; i an't neverhard on my niggers. calculates to do the best for 'em i can.

now, ye see, you'd better jest settle downcomfortable, and not be tryin' no tricks; because nigger's tricks of all sorts i'm upto, and it's no use. if niggers is quiet, and don't try to getoff, they has good times with me; and if they don't, why, it's thar fault, and notmine." tom assured haley that he had no presentintentions of running off. in fact, the exhortation seemed rather asuperfluous one to a man with a great pair of iron fetters on his feet. but mr. haley had got in the habit ofcommencing his relations with his stock with little exhortations of this nature,calculated, as he deemed, to inspire

cheerfulness and confidence, and preventthe necessity of any unpleasant scenes. and here, for the present, we take ourleave of tom, to pursue the fortunes of other characters in our story. chapter xiin which property gets into an improper state of mind it was late in a drizzly afternoon that atraveler alighted at the door of a small country hotel, in the village of n----, inkentucky. in the barroom he found assembled quite amiscellaneous company, whom stress of weather had driven to harbor, and the placepresented the usual scenery of such

reunions. great, tall, raw-boned kentuckians, attiredin hunting-shirts, and trailing their loose joints over a vast extent of territory,with the easy lounge peculiar to the race -,-rifles stacked away in the corner, shot- pouches, game-bags, hunting-dogs, andlittle negroes, all rolled together in the corners,--were the characteristic featuresin the picture. at each end of the fireplace sat a long-legged gentleman, with his chair tipped back, his hat on his head, and the heels ofhis muddy boots reposing sublimely on the mantel-piece,--a position, we will inform

our readers, decidedly favorable to theturn of reflection incident to western taverns, where travellers exhibit a decidedpreference for this particular mode of elevating their understandings. mine host, who stood behind the bar, likemost of his country men, was great of stature, good-natured and loose-jointed,with an enormous shock of hair on his head, and a great tall hat on the top of that. in fact, everybody in the room bore on hishead this characteristic emblem of man's sovereignty; whether it were felt hat,palm-leaf, greasy beaver, or fine new chapeau, there it reposed with truerepublican independence.

in truth, it appeared to be thecharacteristic mark of every individual. some wore them tipped rakishly to one side--these were your men of humor, jolly, free- and-easy dogs; some had them jammedindependently down over their noses--these were your hard characters, thorough men, who, when they wore their hats, wanted towear them, and to wear them just as they had a mind to; there were those who hadthem set far over back--wide-awake men, who wanted a clear prospect; while careless men, who did not know, or care, how theirhats sat, had them shaking about in all directions.the various hats, in fact, were quite a

shakespearean study. divers negroes, in very free-and-easypantaloons, and with no redundancy in the shirt line, were scuttling about, hitherand thither, without bringing to pass any very particular results, except expressing a generic willingness to turn overeverything in creation generally for the benefit of mas'r and his guests. add to this picture a jolly, crackling,rollicking fire, going rejoicingly up a great wide chimney,--the outer door andevery window being set wide open, and the calico window-curtain flopping and snapping

in a good stiff breeze of damp raw air,--and you have an idea of the jollities of a kentucky tavern. your kentuckian of the present day is agood illustration of the doctrine of transmitted instincts and pecularities. his fathers were mighty hunters,--men wholived in the woods, and slept under the free, open heavens, with the stars to holdtheir candles; and their descendant to this day always acts as if the house were his camp,--wears his hat at all hours, tumbleshimself about, and puts his heels on the tops of chairs or mantelpieces, just as hisfather rolled on the green sward, and put

his upon trees and logs,--keeps all the windows and doors open, winter and summer,that he may get air enough for his great lungs,--calls everybody "stranger," withnonchalant bonhommie, and is altogether the frankest, easiest, most jovial creatureliving. into such an assembly of the free and easyour traveller entered. he was a short, thick-set man, carefullydressed, with a round, good-natured countenance, and something rather fussy andparticular in his appearance. he was very careful of his valise andumbrella, bringing them in with his own hands, and resisting, pertinaciously, alloffers from the various servants to relieve

him of them. he looked round the barroom with rather ananxious air, and, retreating with his valuables to the warmest corner, disposedthem under his chair, sat down, and looked rather apprehensively up at the worthy whose heels illustrated the end of themantel-piece, who was spitting from right to left, with a courage and energy ratheralarming to gentlemen of weak nerves and particular habits. "i say, stranger, how are ye?" said theaforesaid gentleman, firing an honorary salute of tobacco-juice in the direction ofthe new arrival.

"well, i reckon," was the reply of theother, as he dodged, with some alarm, the threatening honor. "any news?" said the respondent, taking outa strip of tobacco and a large hunting- knife from his pocket."not that i know of," said the man. "chaw?" said the first speaker, handing theold gentleman a bit of his tobacco, with a decidedly brotherly air."no, thank ye--it don't agree with me," said the little man, edging off. "don't, eh?" said the other, easily, andstowing away the morsel in his own mouth, in order to keep up the supply of tobacco-juice, for the general benefit of society.

the old gentleman uniformly gave a littlestart whenever his long-sided brother fired in his direction; and this being observedby his companion, he very good-naturedly turned his artillery to another quarter, and proceeded to storm one of the fire-irons with a degree of military talent fully sufficient to take a city. "what's that?" said the old gentleman,observing some of the company formed in a group around a large handbill."nigger advertised!" said one of the company, briefly. mr. wilson, for that was the oldgentleman's name, rose up, and, after

carefully adjusting his valise andumbrella, proceeded deliberately to take out his spectacles and fix them on his nose; and, this operation being performed,read as follows: "ran away from the subscriber, my mulattoboy, george. said george six feet in height, a verylight mulatto, brown curly hair; is very intelligent, speaks handsomely, can readand write, will probably try to pass for a white man, is deeply scarred on his back and shoulders, has been branded in hisright hand with the letter h. "i will give four hundred dollars for himalive, and the same sum for satisfactory

proof that he has been killed." the old gentleman read this advertisementfrom end to end in a low voice, as if he were studying it. the long-legged veteran, who had beenbesieging the fire-iron, as before related, now took down his cumbrous length, andrearing aloft his tall form, walked up to the advertisement and very deliberately spit a full discharge of tobacco-juice onit. "there's my mind upon that!" said he,briefly, and sat down again. "why, now, stranger, what's that for?" saidmine host.

"i'd do it all the same to the writer ofthat ar paper, if he was here," said the long man, coolly resuming his oldemployment of cutting tobacco. "any man that owns a boy like that, andcan't find any better way o' treating on him, deserves to lose him. such papers as these is a shame tokentucky; that's my mind right out, if anybody wants to know!""well, now, that's a fact," said mine host, as he made an entry in his book. "i've got a gang of boys, sir," said thelong man, resuming his attack on the fire- irons, "and i jest tells 'em--'boys,' saysi,--'run now! dig! put! jest when ye want

to! i never shall come to look after you!'that's the way i keep mine. let 'em know they are free to run any time,and it jest breaks up their wanting to. more 'n all, i've got free papers for 'emall recorded, in case i gets keeled up any o' these times, and they know it; and itell ye, stranger, there an't a fellow in our parts gets more out of his niggers thani do. why, my boys have been to cincinnati, withfive hundred dollars' worth of colts, and brought me back the money, all straight,time and agin. it stands to reason they should.

treat 'em like dogs, and you'll have dogs'works and dogs' actions. treat 'em like men, and you'll have men'sworks." and the honest drover, in his warmth,endorsed this moral sentiment by firing a perfect feu de joi at the fireplace. "i think you're altogether right, friend,"said mr. wilson; "and this boy described here is a fine fellow--no mistake aboutthat. he worked for me some half-dozen years inmy bagging factory, and he was my best hand, sir. he is an ingenious fellow, too: he inventeda machine for the cleaning of hemp--a

really valuable affair; it's gone into usein several factories. his master holds the patent of it." "i'll warrant ye," said the drover, "holdsit and makes money out of it, and then turns round and brands the boy in his righthand. if i had a fair chance, i'd mark him, ireckon so that he'd carry it one while." "these yer knowin' boys is allersaggravatin' and sarcy," said a coarse- looking fellow, from the other side of theroom; "that's why they gets cut up and marked so. if they behaved themselves, they wouldn't.""that is to say, the lord made 'em men, and

it's a hard squeeze gettin 'em down intobeasts," said the drover, dryly. "bright niggers isn't no kind of 'vantageto their masters," continued the other, well entrenched, in a coarse, unconsciousobtuseness, from the contempt of his opponent; "what's the use o' talents and them things, if you can't get the use on'em yourself? why, all the use they make on 't is to getround you. i've had one or two of these fellers, and ijest sold 'em down river. i knew i'd got to lose 'em, first or last,if i didn't." "better send orders up to the lord, to makeyou a set, and leave out their souls

entirely," said the drover. here the conversation was interrupted bythe approach of a small one-horse buggy to the inn. it had a genteel appearance, and a well-dressed, gentlemanly man sat on the seat, with a colored servant driving. the whole party examined the new comer withthe interest with which a set of loafers in a rainy day usually examine every newcomer. he was very tall, with a dark, spanishcomplexion, fine, expressive black eyes, and close-curling hair, also of a glossyblackness.

his well-formed aquiline nose, straightthin lips, and the admirable contour of his finely-formed limbs, impressed the wholecompany instantly with the idea of something uncommon. he walked easily in among the company, andwith a nod indicated to his waiter where to place his trunk, bowed to the company, and,with his hat in his hand, walked up leisurely to the bar, and gave in his nameas henry butter, oaklands, shelby county. turning, with an indifferent air, hesauntered up to the advertisement, and read it over. "jim," he said to his man, "seems to me wemet a boy something like this, up at

beman's, didn't we?""yes, mas'r," said jim, "only i an't sure about the hand." "well, i didn't look, of course," said thestranger with a careless yawn. then walking up to the landlord, he desiredhim to furnish him with a private apartment, as he had some writing to doimmediately. the landlord was all obsequious, and arelay of about seven negroes, old and young, male and female, little and big,were soon whizzing about, like a covey of partridges, bustling, hurrying, treading on each other's toes, and tumbling over eachother, in their zeal to get mas'r's room

ready, while he seated himself easily on achair in the middle of the room, and entered into conversation with the man whosat next to him. the manufacturer, mr. wilson, from the timeof the entrance of the stranger, had regarded him with an air of disturbed anduneasy curiosity. he seemed to himself to have met and beenacquainted with him somewhere, but he could not recollect. every few moments, when the man spoke, ormoved, or smiled, he would start and fix his eyes on him, and then suddenly withdrawthem, as the bright, dark eyes met his with such unconcerned coolness.

at last, a sudden recollection seemed toflash upon him, for he stared at the stranger with such an air of blankamazement and alarm, that he walked up to him. "mr. wilson, i think," said he, in a toneof recognition, and extending his hand. "i beg your pardon, i didn't recollect youbefore. i see you remember me,--mr. butler, ofoaklands, shelby county." "ye--yes--yes, sir," said mr. wilson, likeone speaking in a dream. just then a negro boy entered, andannounced that mas'r's room was ready. "jim, see to the trunks," said thegentleman, negligently; then addressing

himself to mr. wilson, he added--"i shouldlike to have a few moments' conversation with you on business, in my room, if youplease." mr. wilson followed him, as one who walksin his sleep; and they proceeded to a large upper chamber, where a new-made fire wascrackling, and various servants flying about, putting finishing touches to thearrangements. when all was done, and the servantsdeparted, the young man deliberately locked the door, and putting the key in hispocket, faced about, and folding his arms on his bosom, looked mr. wilson full in theface. "george!" said mr. wilson."yes, george," said the young man.

"i couldn't have thought it!" "i am pretty well disguised, i fancy," saidthe young man, with a smile. "a little walnut bark has made my yellowskin a genteel brown, and i've dyed my hair black; so you see i don't answer to theadvertisement at all." "o, george! but this is a dangerous gameyou are playing. i could not have advised you to it.""i can do it on my own responsibility," said george, with the same proud smile. we remark, en passant, that george was, byhis father's side, of white descent. his mother was one of those unfortunates ofher race, marked out by personal beauty to

be the slave of the passions of herpossessor, and the mother of children who may never know a father. from one of the proudest families inkentucky he had inherited a set of fine european features, and a high, indomitablespirit. from his mother he had received only aslight mulatto tinge, amply compensated by its accompanying rich, dark eye. a slight change in the tint of the skin andthe color of his hair had metamorphosed him into the spanish-looking fellow he thenappeared; and as gracefulness of movement and gentlemanly manners had always been

perfectly natural to him, he found nodifficulty in playing the bold part he had adopted--that of a gentleman travellingwith his domestic. mr. wilson, a good-natured but extremelyfidgety and cautious old gentleman, ambled up and down the room, appearing, as johnbunyan hath it, "much tumbled up and down in his mind," and divided between his wish to help george, and a certain confusednotion of maintaining law and order: so, as he shambled about, he delivered himself asfollows: "well, george, i s'pose you're runningaway--leaving your lawful master, george-- (i don't wonder at it)--at the same time,i'm sorry, george,--yes, decidedly--i think

i must say that, george--it's my duty totell you so." "why are you sorry, sir?" said george,calmly. "why, to see you, as it were, settingyourself in opposition to the laws of your country." "my country!" said george, with a strongand bitter emphasis; "what country have i, but the grave,--and i wish to god that iwas laid there!" "why, george, no--no--it won't do; this wayof talking is wicked--unscriptural. george, you've got a hard master--in fact,he is--well he conducts himself reprehensibly--i can't pretend to defendhim.

but you know how the angel commanded hagarto return to her mistress, and submit herself under the hand; (note: gen.16. the angel bade the pregnant hagar return toher mistress sarai, even though sarai had dealt harshly with her.) and the apostlesent back onesimus to his master." (note: phil. 1:10.onesimus went back to his master to become no longer a servant but a "brotherbeloved.") "don't quote bible at me that way, mr.wilson," said george, with a flashing eye, "don't! for my wife is a christian, and imean to be, if ever i get to where i can;

but to quote bible to a fellow in my circumstances, is enough to make him giveit up altogether. i appeal to god almighty;--i'm willing togo with the case to him, and ask him if i do wrong to seek my freedom." "these feelings are quite natural, george,"said the good-natured man, blowing his nose."yes, they're natural, but it is my duty not to encourage 'em in you. yes, my boy, i'm sorry for you, now; it's abad case--very bad; but the apostle says, 'let everyone abide in the condition inwhich he is called.'

we must all submit to the indications ofprovidence, george,--don't you see?" george stood with his head drawn back, hisarms folded tightly over his broad breast, and a bitter smile curling his lips. "i wonder, mr. wilson, if the indiansshould come and take you a prisoner away from your wife and children, and want tokeep you all your life hoeing corn for them, if you'd think it your duty to abidein the condition in which you were called. i rather think that you'd think the firststray horse you could find an indication of providence--shouldn't you?" the little old gentleman stared with botheyes at this illustration of the case; but,

though not much of a reasoner, he had thesense in which some logicians on this particular subject do not excel,--that of saying nothing, where nothing could besaid. so, as he stood carefully stroking hisumbrella, and folding and patting down all the creases in it, he proceeded on with hisexhortations in a general way. "you see, george, you know, now, i alwayshave stood your friend; and whatever i've said, i've said for your good.now, here, it seems to me, you're running an awful risk. you can't hope to carry it out.if you're taken, it will be worse with you

than ever; they'll only abuse you, and halfkill you, and sell you down the river." "mr. wilson, i know all this," said george. "i do run a risk, but--" he threw open hisovercoat, and showed two pistols and a bowie-knife."there!" he said, "i'm ready for 'em! down south i never will go. no! if it comes to that, i can earn myselfat least six feet of free soil,--the first and last i shall ever own in kentucky!""why, george, this state of mind is awful; it's getting really desperate george. i'm concerned.going to break the laws of your country!"

"my country again! mr. wilson, you have a country; but whatcountry have i, or any one like me, born of slave mothers?what laws are there for us? we don't make them,--we don't consent tothem,--we have nothing to do with them; all they do for us is to crush us, and keep usdown. haven't i heard your fourth-of-julyspeeches? don't you tell us all, once a year, thatgovernments derive their just power from the consent of the governed? can't a fellow think, that hears suchthings?

can't he put this and that together, andsee what it comes to?" mr. wilson's mind was one of those that maynot unaptly be represented by a bale of cotton,--downy, soft, benevolently fuzzyand confused. he really pitied george with all his heart,and had a sort of dim and cloudy perception of the style of feeling that agitated him;but he deemed it his duty to go on talking good to him, with infinite pertinacity. "george, this is bad. i must tell you, you know, as a friend,you'd better not be meddling with such notions; they are bad, george, very bad,for boys in your condition,--very;" and mr.

wilson sat down to a table, and began nervously chewing the handle of hisumbrella. "see here, now, mr. wilson," said george,coming up and sitting himself determinately down in front of him; "look at me, now. don't i sit before you, every way, just asmuch a man as you are? look at my face,--look at my hands,--lookat my body," and the young man drew himself up proudly; "why am i not a man, as much asanybody? well, mr. wilson, hear what i can tell you. i had a father--one of your kentuckygentlemen--who didn't think enough of me to

keep me from being sold with his dogs andhorses, to satisfy the estate, when he died. i saw my mother put up at sheriff's sale,with her seven children. they were sold before her eyes, one by one,all to different masters; and i was the youngest. she came and kneeled down before old mas'r,and begged him to buy her with me, that she might have at least one child with her; andhe kicked her away with his heavy boot. i saw him do it; and the last that i heardwas her moans and screams, when i was tied to his horse's neck, to be carried off tohis place."

"well, then?" "my master traded with one of the men, andbought my oldest sister. she was a pious, good girl,--a member ofthe baptist church,--and as handsome as my poor mother had been. she was well brought up, and had goodmanners. at first, i was glad she was bought, for ihad one friend near me. i was soon sorry for it. sir, i have stood at the door and heard herwhipped, when it seemed as if every blow cut into my naked heart, and i couldn't doanything to help her; and she was whipped,

sir, for wanting to live a decent christian life, such as your laws give no slave girla right to live; and at last i saw her chained with a trader's gang, to be sent tomarket in orleans,--sent there for nothing else but that,--and that's the last i knowof her. well, i grew up,--long years and years,--nofather, no mother, no sister, not a living soul that cared for me more than a dog;nothing but whipping, scolding, starving. why, sir, i've been so hungry that i havebeen glad to take the bones they threw to their dogs; and yet, when i was a littlefellow, and laid awake whole nights and cried, it wasn't the hunger, it wasn't thewhipping, i cried for.

no, sir, it was for my mother and mysisters,--it was because i hadn't a friend to love me on earth. i never knew what peace or comfort was.i never had a kind word spoken to me till i came to work in your factory. mr. wilson, you treated me well; youencouraged me to do well, and to learn to read and write, and to try to makesomething of myself; and god knows how grateful i am for it. then, sir, i found my wife; you've seenher,--you know how beautiful she is. when i found she loved me, when i marriedher, i scarcely could believe i was alive,

i was so happy; and, sir, she is as good asshe is beautiful. but now what? why, now comes my master, takes me rightaway from my work, and my friends, and all i like, and grinds me down into the verydirt! and why? because, he says, i forgot who i was; hesays, to teach me that i am only a nigger! after all, and last of all, he comesbetween me and my wife, and says i shall give her up, and live with another woman. and all this your laws give him power todo, in spite of god or man.

mr. wilson, look at it! there isn't one of all these things, thathave broken the hearts of my mother and my sister, and my wife and myself, but yourlaws allow, and give every man power to do, in kentucky, and none can say to him nay! do you call these the laws of my country?sir, i haven't any country, anymore than i have any father.but i'm going to have one. i don't want anything of your country,except to be let alone,--to go peaceably out of it; and when i get to canada, wherethe laws will own me and protect me, that shall be my country, and its laws i willobey.

but if any man tries to stop me, let himtake care, for i am desperate. i'll fight for my liberty to the lastbreath i breathe. you say your fathers did it; if it wasright for them, it is right for me!" this speech, delivered partly while sittingat the table, and partly walking up and down the room,--delivered with tears, andflashing eyes, and despairing gestures,-- was altogether too much for the good- natured old body to whom it was addressed,who had pulled out a great yellow silk pocket-handkerchief, and was mopping up hisface with great energy. "blast 'em all!" he suddenly broke out.

"haven't i always said so--the infernal oldcusses! i hope i an't swearing, now. well! go ahead, george, go ahead; but becareful, my boy; don't shoot anybody, george, unless--well--you'd better notshoot, i reckon; at least, i wouldn't hit anybody, you know. where is your wife, george?" he added, ashe nervously rose, and began walking the room. "gone, sir gone, with her child in herarms, the lord only knows where;--gone after the north star; and when we evermeet, or whether we meet at all in this

world, no creature can tell." "is it possible! astonishing! from such akind family?" "kind families get in debt, and the laws ofour country allow them to sell the child out of its mother's bosom to pay itsmaster's debts," said george, bitterly. "well, well," said the honest old man,fumbling in his pocket: "i s'pose, perhaps, i an't following my judgment,--hang it, iwon't follow my judgment!" he added, suddenly; "so here, george," and, taking out a roll of bills from his pocket-book,he offered them to george. "no, my kind, good sir!" said george,"you've done a great deal for me, and this

might get you into trouble. i have money enough, i hope, to take me asfar as i need it." "no; but you must, george.money is a great help everywhere;--can't have too much, if you get it honestly. take it,--do take it, now,--do, my boy!""on condition, sir, that i may repay it at some future time, i will," said george,taking up the money. "and now, george, how long are you going totravel in this way?--not long or far, i hope.it's well carried on, but too bold. and this black fellow,--who is he?"

"a true fellow, who went to canada morethan a year ago. he heard, after he got there, that hismaster was so angry at him for going off that he had whipped his poor old mother;and he has come all the way back to comfort her, and get a chance to get her away." "has he got her?""not yet; he has been hanging about the place, and found no chance yet. meanwhile, he is going with me as far asohio, to put me among friends that helped him, and then he will come back after her."dangerous, very dangerous!" said the old man.

george drew himself up, and smileddisdainfully. the old gentleman eyed him from head tofoot, with a sort of innocent wonder. "george, something has brought you outwonderfully. you hold up your head, and speak and movelike another man," said mr. wilson. "because i'm a freeman!" said george,proudly. "yes, sir; i've said mas'r for the lasttime to any man. i'm free!" "take care!you are not sure,--you may be taken." "all men are free and equal in the grave,if it comes to that, mr. wilson," said

"i'm perfectly dumb-founded with yourboldness!" said mr. wilson,--"to come right here to the nearest tavern!" "mr. wilson, it is so bold, and this tavernis so near, that they will never think of it; they will look for me on ahead, and youyourself wouldn't know me. jim's master don't live in this county; heisn't known in these parts. besides, he is given up; nobody is lookingafter him, and nobody will take me up from the advertisement, i think." "but the mark in your hand?"george drew off his glove, and showed a newly-healed scar in his hand."that is a parting proof of mr. harris'

regard," he said, scornfully. "a fortnight ago, he took it into his headto give it to me, because he said he believed i should try to get away one ofthese days. looks interesting, doesn't it?" he said,drawing his glove on again. "i declare, my very blood runs cold when ithink of it,--your condition and your risks!" said mr. wilson. "mine has run cold a good many years, mr.wilson; at present, it's about up to the boiling point," said george. "well, my good sir," continued george,after a few moments' silence, "i saw you

knew me; i thought i'd just have this talkwith you, lest your surprised looks should bring me out. i leave early tomorrow morning, beforedaylight; by tomorrow night i hope to sleep safe in ohio. i shall travel by daylight, stop at thebest hotels, go to the dinner-tables with the lords of the land.so, good-by, sir; if you hear that i'm taken, you may know that i'm dead!" george stood up like a rock, and put outhis hand with the air of a prince. the friendly little old man shook itheartily, and after a little shower of

caution, he took his umbrella, and fumbledhis way out of the room. george stood thoughtfully looking at thedoor, as the old man closed it. a thought seemed to flash across his mind.he hastily stepped to it, and opening it, "mr. wilson, one word more."the old gentleman entered again, and george, as before, locked the door, andthen stood for a few moments looking on the floor, irresolutely. at last, raising his head with a suddeneffort--"mr. wilson, you have shown yourself a christian in your treatment ofme,--i want to ask one last deed of christian kindness of you."

"well, george.""well, sir,--what you said was true. i am running a dreadful risk. there isn't, on earth, a living soul tocare if i die," he added, drawing his breath hard, and speaking with a greateffort,--"i shall be kicked out and buried like a dog, and nobody'll think of it a dayafter,--only my poor wife! poor soul! she'll mourn and grieve; and ifyou'd only contrive, mr. wilson, to send this little pin to her. she gave it to me for a christmas present,poor child! give it to her, and tell her i loved her tothe last.

will you? will you?" he added, earnestly."yes, certainly--poor fellow!" said the old gentleman, taking the pin, with wateryeyes, and a melancholy quiver in his voice. "tell her one thing," said george; "it's mylast wish, if she can get to canada, to go there. no matter how kind her mistress is,--nomatter how much she loves her home; beg her not to go back,--for slavery always ends inmisery. tell her to bring up our boy a free man,and then he won't suffer as i have. tell her this, mr. wilson, will you?""yes, george.

i'll tell her; but i trust you won't die;take heart,--you're a brave fellow. trust in the lord, george.i wish in my heart you were safe through, though,--that's what i do." "is there a god to trust in?" said george,in such a tone of bitter despair as arrested the old gentleman's words."o, i've seen things all my life that have made me feel that there can't be a god. you christians don't know how these thingslook to us. there's a god for you, but is there any forus?" "o, now, don't--don't, my boy!" said theold man, almost sobbing as he spoke; "don't

feel so! there is--there is; clouds and darkness arearound about him, but righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne.there's a god, george,--believe it; trust in him, and i'm sure he'll help you. everything will be set right,--if not inthis life, in another." the real piety and benevolence of thesimple old man invested him with a temporary dignity and authority, as hespoke. george stopped his distracted walk up anddown the room, stood thoughtfully a moment, and then said, quietly,"thank you for saying that, my good friend;

i'll think of that."

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