Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe

by Harriet Beecher Stowe

  ‘Is it a great way off?’ asked Eliza.

  ‘Yes,’ said the lady of the house sadly, ‘it is far away. But we will try to help you to get there.’ Eliza wanted to go to Canada, because it belonged to the British. They did not allow any one to be made a slave there. George, too, was going to try to reach Canada.

  ‘Wife,’ said the gentleman, when they had gone back again into their own sitting-room, ‘we must get that poor woman away to-night. She is not safe here. I know some good people, far in the country, who will take care of her.’

  So this kind gentleman got the carriage ready, and drove Eliza and her boy a long, long way, through the dark night, to a cottage far in the country. There he left her with a good man and his wife, who promised to be kind to her, and help her to go to Canada. He gave some money to the good man too, and told him to use it for Eliza.

  CHAPTER VI

  UNCLE TOM SAYS GOOD-BYE

  The day after the hunt for Eliza was a very sad one in Uncle Tom’s cabin. It was the day on which Haley was going to take Uncle Tom away.

  Aunt Chloe had been up very early. She had washed and ironed all Tom’s clothes, and packed his trunk neatly. Now she was cooking the breakfast, — the last breakfast she would ever cook for her dear husband. Her eyes were quite red and swollen with crying, and the tears kept running down her cheeks all the time.

  ‘It’s the last time,’ said Tom sadly.

  Aunt Chloe could not answer. She sat down, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed aloud.

  ‘S’pose we must be resigned. But, O Lord, how can I? If I knew anything where you was goin’, or how they’d treat you! Missis says she’ll try and buy you back again in a year or two. But, Lor’, nobody never comes back that goes down there.’

  ‘There’ll be the same God there, Chloe, that there is here.’

  ‘Well,’ said Aunt Chloe, ‘s’pose dere will. But the Lord lets drefful things happen sometimes. I don’t seem to get no comfort dat way.’

  ‘Let’s think on our mercies,’ said Tom, in a shaking voice.

  ‘Mercies!’ said Aunt Chloe, ‘don’t see any mercies in ‘t. It isn’t right! it isn’t right it should be so! Mas’r never ought to have left it so that ye could be took for his debts. Mebbe he can’t help himself now, but I feel it’s wrong. Nothing can beat that out of me. Such a faithful crittur as ye’ve been, reckonin’ on him more than your own wife and chil’en.’

  ‘Chloe! now, if ye love me, you won’t talk so, when it is perhaps jest the last time we’ll ever have together,’ said Tom.

  ‘Wall, anyway, there’s wrong about it somewhere,’ said Aunt Chloe, ‘I can’t jest make out where ’tis. But there is wrong somewhere, I’m sure of that.’

  Neither Tom nor Chloe could eat any breakfast; their hearts were too full of sorrow. But the little children, who hardly understood what was happening, enjoyed theirs. It was not often that they had such a fine one as Chloe had cooked for Tom’s last morning at home.

  Breakfast was just finished, when Mrs. Shelby came. Chloe was not very pleased to see her. She was angry, and blamed her for letting Tom be sold.

  But Mrs. Shelby did not seem to see Aunt Chloe’s angry looks. ‘Tom,’ she said, turning to him, ‘I come to—’ she could say no more, she was crying so bitterly.

  Then all Aunt Chloe’s anger faded away.

  ‘Lor’, now missis, don’t-don’t,’ she said. She too burst out crying again, and for a few minutes they all sobbed together.

  ‘Tom,’ said Mrs. Shelby at last, ‘I can’t do anything for you now. But I promise you, most solemnly, to save as much, money as I can. As soon as I have enough, I will buy you back again.’

  Just then Haley arrived. Tom said a last sad good-bye to his wife and children, and got into the cart, which Haley had brought with him.

  As soon as Tom was seated in the cart, Haley took a heavy chain, and fastened it round his ankles. Poor Tom had done nothing wrong, yet he was treated worse than a thief, just because he was a slave.

  ‘You don’t need to do that,’ said Mrs. Shelby, ‘Tom won’t run away.’

  ‘Don’t know so much about that, ma’am; I’ve lost one already. I can’t afford to run any more risks,’ replied Haley.

  ‘Please give my love to Mas’r George,’ said Tom, looking round sadly. ‘Tell him how sorry I am he is not at home to say good-bye.’

  Master George was Mr. and Mrs. Shelby’s son. He was very fond of Tom, and was teaching him to write. He often used to come and have tea in Uncle Tom’s little cottage. Aunt Chloe used to make her very nicest cakes when Mas’r George came to tea. But he was not at home now, and did not know that Tom had been sold.

  Haley whipped up the horse, and, with a last sad look at the old place, Tom was whirled away to a town called Washington.

  CHAPTER VII

  UNCLE TOM MEETS EVA

  Haley stayed in Washington several days. He went to market each day and bought more slaves. He put heavy chains on their hands and feet, and sent them to prison along with Tom.

  When he had bought all the slaves he wanted, and was ready to go, he drove them before him, like a herd of cattle, on to a boat which was going south.

  It was a beautiful boat. The deck was gay with lovely ladies and fine gentlemen walking about enjoying the bright spring sunshine.

  Down on the lower deck, in the dark, among the luggage, were crowded Tom and the other poor slaves.

  Some of the ladies and gentlemen on board were very sorry for the poor niggers, and pitied them. Others never thought about them at all, or if they did, thought it was quite just and proper that they should be treated badly. ‘They are only slaves,’ they said.

  Among the passengers was a pretty little girl, about six years old. She had beautiful golden hair, and big blue eyes. She ran about here, there, and everywhere, dancing and laughing like a little fairy. There were other children on board, but not one so pretty or so merry as she. She was always dressed in white, and Tom thought she looked like a little angel, as she danced and ran about.

  Often and often she would come and walk sadly around the place where the poor slaves sat in their chains. She would look pityingly at them, and then go slowly away. Once or twice she came with her dress full of sweets, nuts, and oranges, and gave them all some.

  Tom watched the little lady, and tried to make friends with her. His pockets were full of all kinds of things, with which he used to amuse his old master’s children.

  He could make whistles of every sort and size, cut baskets out of cherry-stones, faces out of nut-shells, jumping figures out of bits of wood. He brought these out one by one, and though the little girl was shy at first, they soon grew to be great friends.

  ‘What is missy’s name?’ said Tom one day.

  ‘Evangeline St. Clare,’ said the little girl; ‘though papa and everybody else call me Eva. Now, what’s your name?’

  ‘My name’s Tom. The little chil’en at my old home used to call me Uncle Tom.’

  ‘Then I mean to call you Uncle Tom, because, you see, I like you,’ said Eva. ‘So, Uncle Tom, where are you going?’

  ‘I don’t know, Miss Eva.’

  ‘Don’t know?’ said Eva.

  ‘No. I’m going to be sold to somebody. I don’t know who.’

  ‘My papa can buy you, said Eva quickly. ‘If he buys you you will have good times. I mean to ask him to, this very day.’

  ‘Thank you, my little lady,’ said Tom.

  Just at this moment, the boat stopped at a small landing-place to take in some wood. Eva heard her father’s voice, and ran away to speak to him.

  Tom too rose and walked to the side. He was allowed to go about now without chains. He was so good and gentle, that even a man like Haley could not help seeing that it could do no harm to let him go free.

  Tom helped the sailors to carry the wood on the boat. He was so big and strong that they were very glad to have his help.

  Eva and her father were standing by the railings as the boat once
more began to move. It had hardly left the landing-stage when, some how or other, Eva lost her balance. She fell right over the side of the boat into the water.

  Tom was standing just under her, on the lower deck, as she fell. In one moment he sprang after her. The next he had caught her his arms, and was swimming with her to the boat-side, where eager hands were held out to take her.

  The whole boat was in confusion. Every one ran to help Eva, while the poor slave went back to his place, unnoticed and uncared for.

  But Mr. St. Clare did not forget.

  The next day Tom sat on the lower deck, with folded arms, anxiously watching him as he talked to Haley.

  Eva’s father was a very handsome man. He was like Eva, with the same beautiful blue eyes and golden-brown hair. He was very fond of fun and laughter, and though he had quite made up his mind to buy Tom, he was now teasing Haley, and pretending to think that he was asking too much money for him.

  ‘Papa do buy him, it’s no matter what you pay’, whispered Eva softly, putting her arms around her father’s neck. ‘You have money enough, I know. I want him.’

  ‘What for, pussy? Are you going to use him for a rattle-box, or a rocking-horse, or what?’

  ‘I want to make him happy.’

  Mr. St. Clare laughed; but after making a few more jokes about it, he gave Haley the money he asked for, and Tom had a new master.

  ‘Come, Eva,’ said Mr. St. Clare, and, taking her hand, went across the boat to Tom.

  ‘Look up, Tom,’ he said to him, ‘and see how you like your new master.’

  Tom looked up. Mr. St. Clare had such a gay, young, handsome face, that Tom could not help feeling glad. Grateful tears rushed to his eyes as he said, ‘God bless you, mas’r.’

  ‘Can you drive horses, Tom?’

  ‘I’ve been allays used to horses,’ said Tom.

  ‘Well, I think I’ll make you a coachman. But you must not get drunk.’

  Tom looked surprised and a little hurt.

  ‘I never drink’, mas’r,’ he said.

  ‘Never mind, my boy,’ said Mr. St. Clare, seeing him look so grave; ‘I don’t doubt you mean to do well.’

  ‘I certainly do, mas’r,’ said Tom.

  ‘And you shall have good times,’ said Eva. ‘Papa is very good to everybody, only he always will laugh at them.’

  ‘Papa is much obliged to you,’ said Mr. St. Clare laughing, as he walked away.

  CHAPTER VIII

  ELIZA AMONG THE QUAKERS

  While Uncle Tom was sailing South, down the wide river, to his new master’s home, Eliza with her boy was travelling north to Canada.

  Kind people helped her all the way. She passed from friend to friend, till she arrived safely at a village where the people were Quakers.

  The Quakers were gentle, quiet people. They all dressed alike in plain grey clothes, and the women wore big, white muslin caps. Because they thought it was wicked to have slaves, they helped those who ran away from their cruel masters. Often they were punished for doing this, but still they went on helping the poor slaves. For though the laws said it was wrong, they felt quite sure that it was really right to do so.

  The kind Quaker women grew to be very fond of Eliza, and would have been glad if she would have stayed with them.

  But Eliza said, ‘No, I must go on; I dare not stop. I can’t sleep at night: I can’t rest. Last night I dreamed I saw that man come into the yard.’

  ‘Poor child,’ said Rachel, the kind Quaker woman to whom she was speaking, ‘poor child, thee mustn’t feel so. No slave that has run away has ever been stolen from our village. It is safe here.’

  While they were talking, Simeon, Rachel’s husband, came to the door and called, ‘Wife, I want to speak to thee a minute.’

  Rachel went out to him. ‘Eliza’s husband is here,’ he said.

  ‘Art thee sure?’ asked Rachel, her face bright with joy.

  ‘Yes, quite certain; he will be here soon. Will thee tell her?’

  Rachel went back into the kitchen, where Eliza was sewing, and, opening the door of a small bedroom, said gently, ‘Come in here with me, my daughter; I have news to tell thee.’

  Eliza rose trembling, she was so afraid it was bad news.

  ‘No, no! never fear thee. It’s good news, Eliza,’ said Simeon,

  Rachel shut the door, and drew Eliza towards her. ‘The Lord has been very good to thee,’ she said gently. ‘Thy husband hath escaped, and will be here to-night.’

  ‘To-night!’ repeated Eliza, ‘to-night!’

  Then it seemed as if the room and everything in it swam round her, and she fell into Rachel’s arms.

  Very gently Rachel laid her down on the bed. Eliza slept as she had not slept since the dreadful night when she had taken her boy and run away through the cold, dark night.

  She dreamed of a beautiful country — a land, it seemed to her, of rest — green shores, pleasant islands, and lovely glittering water. There in a house, which kind voices told her was her home, she saw Harry playing happily. She heard her husband’s footstep. She felt him coming nearer. His arms were around her, his tears falling upon her face, and she awoke.

  It was no dream. The sun had set, the candles were lit. Harry was sleeping by her side, and George, her husband, was holding her in his arms.

  CHAPTER IX

  UNCLE TOM’S NEW HOME

  Uncle Tom soon settled down in his new home. He was as happy as he could be, so far away from his wife and dear little children. He had a kind master.

  Mrs. St. Clare, however, was not nearly so nice as her husband. She was cruel, and would often have beaten her poor slaves, but Mr. St. Clare would not allow it.

  She always pretended that she was very ill, and spent most of her time lying on a sofa, or driving about in her comfortable carriage.

  Mrs. St. Clare said she really was too ill to look after the house, so everything was left to the slaves. Soon things began to be very uncomfortable, and even good-natured Mr. St. Clare could stand it no longer.

  He went to his cousin, Miss Ophelia St. Clare, and begged her to come and keep house for him, and to look after Eva. It was on the journey back with her that the accident to Eva happened, which ended in his buying Tom.

  Miss Ophelia was a very prim and precise person, not at all like the St. Clares. In her home people did not have slaves. Though her cousin had a great many, and was kind to them, she could not help seeing that it was a very wicked thing to buy and sell men and women as if they were cattle. She was very, very sorry for the poor slaves, and would have liked to free them all. Yet she did not love them. She could not bear even to have them near her, nor to touch them, just because they were black.

  It made her quite ill to see Eva kissing and hugging the black slave women when she came home.

  ‘Well, I couldn’t do that,’ she said.

  ‘Why not?’ said Mr. St. Clare, who was looking on.

  ‘Well, I want to be kind to every one. I wouldn’t have anybody hurt. But, as to kissing niggers—’ she gave a little shudder. ‘How can she?’

  Presently a gay laugh sounded from the court. Mr. St. Clare stepped out to see what was happening.

  ‘What is it?’ said Miss Ophelia, following him.

  There sat Tom on a little mossy seat in the court. Every one of his buttonholes was stuck full of flowers. Eva, laughing gaily, was hanging a wreath of roses round his neck. Then, still laughing, she perched on his knee like a little sparrow.

  ‘Oh, Tom, you look so funny!’

  Tom had a sober smile on his face. He seemed in his own quiet way to be enjoying the fun quite as much as his little mistress. When he lifted his eyes and saw his master he looked as if he were afraid he might be scolded. But Mr. St. Clare only smiled.

  ‘How can you let her do that?’ said Miss Ophelia.

  ‘Why not?’ said Mr. St. Clare.

  ‘Why? I don’t know. It seems dreadful to me.’

  ‘You would think it was quite right and natural if you
saw Eva playing with a large dog, even if he was black. But a fellow-creature that can think, and reason, and feel, and is immortal, you shudder at. I know how you north-country people feel about it. You loathe the blacks as you would a toad or a snake. Yet you pity them, and are angry because they are often ill-treated.’

  ‘Well, cousin,’ said Miss Ophelia thoughtfully, ‘I daresay you are right. I suppose I must try to get over my feeling.’

  CHAPTER X

  UNCLE TOM’S LETTER

  Uncle Tom felt that he was indeed very fortunate to have found such a kind master and so good a home. He had nice clothes, plenty of food, and a comfortable room to sleep in. He had no hard, disagreeable work to do. His chief duties were to drive Mrs. St. Clare’s carriage when she wanted to go out, and to attend on Eva when she wanted him. He soon grew to love his little mistress very, very much indeed.

  Mr. St. Clare too began to find Tom very useful. He was dreadfully careless about money, and his chief servant was just as careless as his master. So between them a great deal was not only spent but wasted.

  Mr. Shelby had trusted Tom in everything, and Tom had always been careful of his master’s money — as careful as if it had been his own. Waste seemed dreadful to him, and he tried to do something to stop it now.

  Mr. St. Clare was not long in finding out how clever Tom was, and soon trusted him as thoroughly as Mr. Shelby had done.

  But in spite of all his good fortune, Tom used to long very much to go home to see his dear ones again. He had plenty of spare time, and whenever he had nothing to do he would pull his Bible out of his pocket and try to find comfort in reading it.

  But as time went on, Uncle Tom longed more and more for his home. At last one day he had a grand idea. He would write a letter.

  Before Uncle Tom was sold, George Shelby had been teaching him to write so he thought he could manage a letter.

  He begged a sheet of writing-paper from Eva, and going to his room began to make a rough copy on his slate.