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+Project Gutenberg's Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin, by Unknown
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin
+
+Author: Unknown
+
+Editor: John P. Jewett
+
+Release Date: February 8, 2009 [EBook #28021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES FROM UNCLE TOM'S CABIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file made using scans of public domain works at the
+University of Georgia.) Music file created by Linda Cantoni.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THIS LITTLE WORK
+
+IS DESIGNED TO ADAPT
+
+MRS. STOWE'S TOUCHING NARRATIVE
+
+TO THE UNDERSTANDINGS OF THE YOUNGEST READERS
+
+AND TO FOSTER IN THEIR HEARTS
+
+A GENEROUS SYMPATHY FOR THE
+
+WRONGED NEGRO RACE OF AMERICA.
+
+The purpose of the Editor of this little Work, has been to adapt it for
+the juvenile family circle. The verses have accordingly been written by
+the Authoress for the capacity of the youngest readers, and have been
+printed in a large bold type. The prose parts of the book, which are
+well suited for being read aloud in the family circle, are printed in a
+smaller type, and it is presumed that in these our younger friends will
+claim the assistance of their older brothers or sisters, or appeal to
+the ready aid of their mamma.
+
+JANUARY, 1853.
+
+          Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by
+          JOHN P. JEWETT AND COMPANY,
+          In the Clerk's Office of the District Court
+               of the District of Massachusetts.
+
+
+
+
+PICTURES AND STORIES
+
+From
+
+UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.
+
+Published by John P. Jewett & Co., Boston.
+
+
+
+
+UNCLE TOM'S PICTURE BOOK.
+
+
+
+
+THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.
+
+
+          Come read my book good boys and girls
+          That live on freedom's ground,
+          With pleasant homes, and parents dear,
+          And blithesome playmates round;
+          And you will learn a woeful tale,
+          Which a good woman told,
+          About the poor black negro race,
+          How they are bought and sold.
+
+          Within our own America
+          Where these bad deeds are done,
+          A father and a mother lived
+          Who had a little son;
+          As slaves, they worked for two rich men,
+          Whose fields were fair and wide--
+          But Harry was their only joy,
+          They had no child beside.
+
+          Now Harry's hair was thick with curls
+          And softly bright his eyes,
+          And he could play such funny tricks
+          And look so wondrous wise,
+
+[Illustration: THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.
+
+          Oh children dear, 'twas sad to hear,
+          That for the trader's gold,
+          To that hard-hearted evil man
+          Her own sweet boy was sold.]
+
+
+          That all about the rich man's house
+          Were pleased to see him play,
+          Till a wicked trader buying slaves
+          Came there one winter day.
+
+          The trader and the rich man sat
+          Together, at their wine,
+          When in poor simple Harry slipped
+          In hopes of something fine.
+          He shewed them how the dandy danced,
+          And how old Cudjoe walked,
+          Till loud they laughed and gave him grapes,
+          And then in whispers talked.
+
+          The young child knew not what they said,
+          But at the open door
+          Eliza, his poor mother, stood,
+          With heart all sick and sore.
+          Oh children dear, 'twas sad to hear,
+          That for the trader's gold,
+          To that hard-hearted evil man
+          Her own sweet boy was sold.
+
+          And he would take him far away,
+          To where the cotton grew,
+          And sell him for a slave to men
+          More hard and wicked too.
+          She knew that none would heed his woe,
+          His want, or sickness there,
+          Nor ever would she see his face,
+          Or hear his evening prayer.
+
+
+          So when the house was all asleep,
+          And when the stars were bright,
+          She took her Harry in her arms,
+          And fled through that cold night:--
+          Away through bitter frost and snow
+          Did that poor mother flee;
+          And how she fared, and what befell,
+          Read on, and you shall see.
+
+
+Before setting out, Eliza took a piece of paper and a pencil, and wrote
+hastily the following note to her kind mistress, who had tried in vain
+to save little Harry from being sold:--
+
+"Oh missus! dear missus! don't think me ungrateful; don't think hard of
+me. I am going to try to save my boy; you will not blame me! God bless
+and reward you for all your kindness!"
+
+Hastily folding and directing this, she went to a drawer and made up a
+little package of clothing for her boy, which she tied firmly round her
+waist; and so fond is a mother's remembrance, that even in the terrors
+of that hour she did not forget to put up in the little package one or
+two of his favourite toys.
+
+On the bed lay her slumbering boy, his long curls falling negligently
+around his unconscious face, his rosy mouth half open, his little fat
+hands thrown out over the bed-clothes, and a smile spread like a sunbeam
+over his whole face. "Poor boy! poor fellow!" said Eliza, "they have
+sold you, but your mother will save you yet."
+
+It was some trouble to arouse the little sleeper; but after some effort
+he sat up, and began playing with his wooden bird, while his mother was
+putting on her bonnet and shawl.
+
+"Where are you going, mother?" said he, as she drew near the bed with
+his little coat and cap.
+
+His mother drew near, and looked so earnestly into his eyes, that he at
+once divined that something unusual was the matter.
+
+"Hush, Harry," she said; "mustn't speak loud, or they will hear us. A
+wicked man was coming to take little Harry away from his mother, and
+carry him 'way off in the dark; but mother won't let him--she's going to
+put on her little boy's cap and coat, and run off with him, so the ugly
+man can't catch him."
+
+Saying these words, she had tied and buttoned on the child's simple
+outfit, and taking him in her arms, she whispered to him to be very
+still; and, opening the door, she glided noiselessly out.
+
+It was a sparkling, frosty, starlight night, and the mother wrapped the
+shawl close round her child, as, perfectly quiet with terror, he clung
+round her neck.
+
+At first the novelty and alarm kept him waking; but after they had gone
+a considerable way, poor Harry said, as he found himself sinking to
+sleep--
+
+"Mother I don't need to keep awake, do I?"
+
+"No, my darling; sleep now, if you want to."
+
+"But, mother, if I do get asleep, you won't let him get me?"
+
+"No! so may God help me!" said his mother with a paler cheek, and a
+brighter light in her large dark eyes.
+
+"You're _sure_, an't you, mother?"
+
+"Yes, _sure_!" said the mother, in a voice that startled herself; for it
+seemed to her to come from a spirit within, that was no part of her; and
+the boy dropped his little weary head on her shoulder, and was soon
+asleep.
+
+When morning came, as poor Harry complained of hunger and thirst, she
+sat down behind a large rock, which hid them from the road, and gave him
+a breakfast out of her little package. The boy wondered and grieved that
+she could not eat, and when putting his arms round her neck he tried to
+force some of his cake into her mouth, it seemed to her that the rising
+in her throat would choke her.
+
+"No, no, Harry, darling! mother can't eat till you are safe! We must go
+on--on--till we come to the river." And she hurried again into the road
+and proceeded on her journey.
+
+When the trader came to take away Harry, he was in a great rage, because
+neither the boy nor his mother could be found. The master who sold him
+was also very angry, and ordered two of his negroes, called Andy and
+Sam, to bring out two of the swiftest horses, and help the trader to
+pursue Eliza, and take Harry from her. Andy and Sam did not like that
+work, but being slaves, they dare not disobey. However, they did what
+they could to detain the trader; for, pretending to be in great haste,
+they squalled for this and that, and frightened the horses, till they
+ran off over hedges and ditches, with Andy and Sam after them, laughing
+till their sides ached as soon as they got out of sight. The trader all
+the while stood cursing and swearing, like a wicked man as he was.
+
+When the horses were caught, they were so tired with their race, that he
+was fain to let them stay and rest till dinner-time. But when
+dinner-time came, Chloe the cook, of whom you will hear more in the
+course of the story, spilled one dish, kept another long in baking; and
+so the trader did not get his dinner till it was late in the afternoon.
+
+The horses were brought out at last, and he set off with Sam and Andy in
+pursuit of poor Harry and his mother. They had gone a great way by this
+time, and Eliza's feet were sore with walking all the night and day, and
+Harry was ready to lie down and sleep on the snow. As the sun was
+setting, they came in sight of the great river Ohio. There was no bridge
+over it. People crossed in boats in the summer time, and in winter on
+the thick ice, with which it was always covered. Now it was the month of
+February. The ice had broken, because spring was near. The river was
+swollen over all its banks, and no boatman would venture on it. There
+was a little inn hard by, and there poor Eliza hoped to get a little
+rest for herself and Harry, who was now fast asleep in her arms. She had
+just sat down by the fire, when, who should ride into the yard but the
+trader and his guides. The swift horses had brought them much quicker
+than she and Harry could walk, but the weary mother would not lose her
+child. She darted out with him that moment, and the verses will tell you
+by what means she escaped.
+
+
+
+
+ELIZA CROSSING THE RIVER
+
+
+          From her resting-place by the trader chased,
+          Through the winter evening cold,
+          Eliza came with her boy at last,
+          Where a broad deep river rolled.
+
+          Great blocks of the floating ice were there,
+          And the water's roar was wild,
+          But the cruel trader's step was near,
+          Who would take her only child.
+
+          Poor Harry clung around her neck,
+          But a word he could not say,
+          For his very heart was faint with fear,
+          And with flying all that day.
+
+          Her arms about the boy grew tight,
+          With a loving clasp, and brave;
+          "Hold fast! Hold fast, now, Harry dear,
+          And it may be God will save."
+
+          From the river's bank to the floating ice
+          She took a sudden bound,
+          And the great block swayed beneath her feet
+          With a dull and heavy sound.
+
+          So over the roaring rushing flood,
+          From block to block she sprang,
+          And ever her cry for God's good help
+          Above the waters rang.
+
+          And God did hear that mother's cry,
+          For never an ice-block sank;
+          While the cruel trader and his men
+          Stood wondering on the bank.
+
+          A good man saw on the farther side,
+          And gave her his helping hand;
+          So poor Eliza, with her boy,
+          Stood safe upon the land.
+
+          A blessing on that good man's arm,
+          On his house, and field, and store;
+          May he never want a friendly hand
+          To help him to the shore!
+
+          A blessing on all that make such haste,
+          Whatever their hands can do!
+          For they that succour the sore distressed,
+          Our Lord will help them too.
+
+
+When the two negroes saw Eliza's escape, they began to laugh and cheer;
+on which the trader chased them with his horsewhip, cursing and swearing
+as usual. But he could not get over the river, and went in very bad
+temper to spend that night at the little inn, determined to get a boat,
+if possible, and catch Harry in the morning. The man who had helped
+Eliza up the river's bank, showed her a pretty white house at some
+distance, where a kind gentleman and his wife lived. The dark night had
+fallen, the tea-cups were on the table, and the fires were bright in
+kitchen and parlour, when the poor mother, all wet and weary, her feet
+cut by the sharp ice (for she had lost her shoes in the river), walked
+in, with Harry still in her arms. Before she could ask for shelter, she
+dropped down fainting on the floor. The good people of the house
+thought she was dead, and raised a terrible alarm. Mr. and Mrs. Bird ran
+into the kitchen to see what had happened. They were good, kind people,
+and great in that place, for Mr. Bird was a member of the American
+Parliament. He kept slaves himself, and tried to think it was no sin. He
+had even been trying that very night, in conversation with his wife, to
+defend a law lately passed, which forbade any one to give shelter to
+poor runaway slaves. But Mrs. Bird would listen to no defence of such a
+law, and said, "It is a shameful, wicked, and abominable law, and I'll
+break it for one the first time I have a chance, and I hope I shall have
+a chance too. I know nothing about politics, 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. No, no, John,
+said she, you may talk all night, but you would not do what you say.
+Would you now turn away a poor, shivering, hungry creature from your
+door because he was a runaway? Would you, now?"
+
+Now, if the truth must be told, Mr. Bird was a very kind man, and could
+not in his heart give a very decided reply to his wife; and it was just
+at this moment that poor Eliza and little Harry came to his door. As we
+said, Mr. and Mrs. Bird ran to the kitchen to see what had happened.
+They found poor Eliza just recovering from her faint. She stared wildly
+round her for a moment, and then sprang to her feet, saying, "Oh! my
+Harry! have you got him?" The boy at this ran to her, and put his arms
+round her neck. "Oh! he's here, he's here!" she exclaimed. And then she
+cried wildly to Mrs. Bird, "O, ma'am, do protect us, don't let them get
+him!"
+
+"Nobody shall hurt you here, poor woman," said Mrs. Bird. "You are safe;
+don't be afraid."
+
+"God bless you," said the woman, covering her face and sobbing, while
+poor little Harry, seeing her crying, tried to get into her lap.
+
+With many gentle and womanly offices which no one knew better how to
+render than Mrs. Bird, the poor woman was rendered more calm. A
+temporary bed was provided for her near the fire; and after a short
+time, Eliza, faint and weary with her long journey, fell into a heavy
+slumber, with little Harry soundly sleeping on her arm.
+
+"I wonder who and what she is," said Mr. Bird, when he had gone back to
+the parlour with his wife.
+
+"When she wakes and feels a little rested, we shall see," said Mrs.
+Bird, who began to busy herself with her knitting.
+
+Mr. Bird took up a newspaper, and pretended to be reading it, but it was
+not long before he turned to his wife and said, "I say, wife, couldn't
+she wear one of your gowns; and there's that old cloak that you keep on
+purpose to put over me when I take my afternoon's nap, you might give
+her that; she needs clothes."
+
+Mrs. Bird simply replied, "We'll see;" but a quiet smile passed over her
+face as she remembered the conversation they had had together that very
+night before Eliza and little Harry came to their door.
+
+After an hour or two, Eliza awoke, and Mr. and Mrs. Bird again went to
+the kitchen. As they entered, poor Eliza lifted her dark eyes, and fixed
+them on Mrs. Bird, with such a forlorn and imploring expression, that
+the tears came into the kind-hearted woman's eyes.
+
+"You need not be afraid of anything; we are friends here, poor woman!
+Tell me where you came from, and what you want?" said she.
+
+"I came from Kentucky," said poor Eliza.
+
+"And what induced you to run away?" said Mrs. Bird.
+
+The woman looked up with a keen, scrutinising glance, and it did not
+escape her that Mrs. Bird was dressed in deep mourning.
+
+"Ma'am," she said, suddenly, "have you ever lost a child?"
+
+The question was unexpected, and it was a thrust on a new wound; for it
+was only a month since a darling child of the family had been laid in
+the grave.
+
+Mr. Bird turned round and walked to the window, 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
+them buried there when I came away; and I had only this one left. I
+never slept a night without him; he was all 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--a baby that had never been away from his mother in
+his life! 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 were signed and he was
+sold, I took him and came off in the night, and they chased me--the man
+that bought him and some of master's folks, and they were coming down
+right behind me, and I heard them--I jumped right on to the ice, and how
+I got across I don't know, but first I knew a man was helping me up the
+bank."
+
+"Crossed on the ice?" cried every one present.
+
+"Yes," said poor Eliza, slowly. "I did, God helping me. I crossed on the
+ice, for they were behind me--right behind--and there was no other way!"
+
+All around were affected to tears by Eliza's story.
+
+Mr. Bird himself, to hide his feelings, had to turn away, and became
+particularly busy in wiping his spectacle-glasses and blowing his nose.
+
+After a short pause, Mrs. Bird asked:--
+
+"And where do you mean to go to, my poor woman?"
+
+"To Canada if I only knew where that was. Is it very far off ma'am?"
+said she, looking up with a simple and confiding air to Mrs. Bird's
+face.
+
+"Poor woman," said Mrs. Bird, "it is much further off than you think;
+but we will try to think what can be done for you. Here Dinah," said she
+to one of the servants, "make her up a bed in your own room 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 re-entered the parlour. She sat down in her
+little rocking chair before the fire, swinging it thoughtfully to and
+fro. Mr. Bird strode up and down the room, grumbling to himself. At
+length, striding up to his wife, he said:--
+
+"I say, wife, she'll have to get away from here this very night. That
+trader fellow will be down after her early to-morrow morning."
+
+"To-night," said Mrs. Bird, "how is it possible--and where to?"
+
+"Well, I know pretty well where to," said Mr. Bird, beginning to put on
+his boots. "I know a place where she would be safe enough, but the
+plague of the thing is, nobody could drive a carriage there to-night but
+me. The creek has to be crossed twice, and the second crossing is quite
+dangerous, unless one know it as I do. But never mind. I'll take her
+over myself. There is no help for it. I could not bear to see the poor
+woman caught."
+
+"Thank you, thank you, dear John," said the wife, laying her white hand
+on his--"Could I ever have loved you had I not known you better than you
+do yourself?"
+
+Off Mr. Bird set to see about the carriage, but at the door he stopped
+for a moment, and then coming back, he said, with a quivering voice,--
+
+"Mary, I don't know how you'd feel about it, but there's the 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 bedroom door adjoining 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 two boys, 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 there never been in
+your house a drawer, or a closet, the opening of which has been to you
+like the opening again of a little grave? Ah! happy mother that you are,
+if it has not been so!
+
+Mrs. Bird slowly opened the drawer. There were little coats of many a
+form and pattern, 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 waggon, a top, a
+ball--memorials gathered with many a tear and many a heartbreak! She sat
+down by the drawer, and leaning her head on her hands over it, wept till
+the tears fell through her fingers into the drawer; then suddenly
+raising her head, she began, with nervous haste, selecting the plainest
+and most substantial articles, and gathering them into a bundle.
+
+"Mamma," said one of the boys, gently touching her arm, "are you going
+to give away those things?"
+
+"My dear boys," she said, softly and earnestly, "if our dear, loving,
+little Henry looks down from heaven, he would be glad to have us do
+this. I could not find it in my heart to give them away to any common
+person--to anybody that was happy; but I give them to a mother more
+heart-broken and sorrowful than I am; and I hope God will send his
+blessings with them!"
+
+Mr. Bird returned about twelve o'clock with the carriage. "Mary," said
+he, coming in with his overcoat in his hand, you must wake her up now.
+"We must be off." Soon arrayed in a cloak, bonnet, and shawl that had
+belonged to her benefactress, poor Eliza appeared at the door with her
+child in her arms. When she got seated in the carriage, she fixed her
+large dark eyes on Mrs. Bird's face, and seemed going to speak. Her lips
+moved, but there was no sound; pointing upward with a look never to be
+forgotten, she fell back in her seat and covered her face. The door was
+shut, and the carriage drove on.
+
+It was not long before they arrived at the place where Mr. Bird thought
+they would be safe from the cruel trader. It was a village about seven
+miles off, consisting of neat houses, with orchards and meadows about
+them.
+
+They all belonged to Quakers, a sect of Christians whom foolish people
+laugh at, because they think it right to wear broad-brimmed hats, and
+odd old-fashioned bonnets; but they do many good and charitable things,
+especially for the poor negroes, and one of them took Harry and his
+mother in.
+
+I cannot tell all the kindness the Quaker and his family did to them,
+giving Harry such good things, and watching lest the trader should come
+that way; but the greatest joy of all was, one evening, when a tall
+strong man, called Phineas Fletcher, who was a Quaker, and a great
+traveller, guided to the village Harry's poor father, George. His master
+was going to sell him too, and he had run away, and searched everywhere
+for his wife and child, to take them with him to Canada, which you know
+belongs to England. Oh what a happy meeting that was between George,
+Eliza, and little Harry.
+
+But they could not remain long with the kind Quakers. Their cruel
+pursuers had found out where they were hid, so they had all to set out
+again together. This time they were guided by the brave-hearted Phineas
+Fletcher, and hoped to reach Canada in safety. But their pursuers
+overtook them, and they had to run to the rocks to defend themselves, as
+the verses will tell.
+
+
+
+
+THE DEFENCE.
+
+
+          See Harry's poor father, with pistol in hand,
+          How bravely he takes on the steep rock his stand,
+          Over rivers, and forests, and towns he has passed,
+          And found his Eliza and Harry at last.
+
+          The kind Quaker folks that wear drab, brown, and gray,
+          To the wanderers gave shelter and bread on their way,
+          Their warm clothes were given them, their waggon was lent,
+          And the strong-armed Phineas along with them went.
+
+          Their hope was to journey to Canada's shore,
+          Where the trader or master could reach them no more;
+          For the English flag floats there, o'er land and o'er sea,
+          And they knew in its shadow the negro was free.
+
+          But far is their way through the slave-dealing land,
+          And now on their track comes the trader's fierce band;
+          So for refuge and rest to the rocks they have run,
+          And the father will fight for his wife and his son.
+
+          He fires on the first up the steep rock that springs,
+          But the trader comes on, shouting all wicked things,
+          Till Phineas right over the crag flings him clear,
+          Saying, "Friend, in my mind thou hast no business here."
+
+          Then off go the traders to find them more men,
+          And off go the friends in their waggon again;
+          But don't you wish well to the good man for life,
+          Who would fight for his freedom, his child, and his wife?
+
+[Illustration: THE DEFENCE.
+
+          But far is their way through the slave-dealing land,
+          And now on their track comes the trader's fierce band
+          So for refuge and rest to the rocks they have run,
+          And the father will fight for his wife and his son.]
+
+After this, George and Eliza, with their little Harry, journeyed on,
+never stopping, except at the house of another kind friend, to disguise
+themselves before going on board the steamboat, which at last brought
+them safe to Canada.
+
+
+
+
+ARRIVAL IN THE LAND OF FREEDOM.
+
+
+          Look on the travellers kneeling,
+            In thankful gladness, here,
+          As the boat that brought them o'er the lake,
+            Goes steaming from the pier.
+
+          'Tis Harry, like a girl disguised,
+            His mother, like a boy,
+          But the father kneels beside them,
+            And their hearts are full of joy.
+
+          No man can buy or sell them,
+            No trader chase them more,
+          The land of freedom has been gained,
+            The good Canadian shore.
+
+          And they are strangers on the soil,
+            As poor as poor can be,
+          But the English flag above them floats,
+            They know that they are free.
+
+George got employment in a factory, and as he was active and clever in
+his work, he soon earned enough to take a pretty little house, where
+they all lived together. Harry grew older, and went to school, where he
+was a good boy, and never forgot how God had preserved him from the
+wicked trader, and what his poor mother had suffered to bring him away.
+His father, George, though he worked all day, was learning too from all
+sorts of good books, which he used to read by the fire in the evenings.
+He was ever thinking of the poor heathen kings in Africa, and the
+negroes they sold for slaves. So at last, when he had learned a great
+deal, he determined to become a missionary; and, with his wife and
+family, he embarked for Africa, where he still labours, teaching the
+poor negroes the glad tidings of the gospel.
+
+
+WHO UNCLE TOM WAS.
+
+Now I must tell you something about Uncle Tom, from whom this book is
+named. He was a negro man, as black as jet, and a slave, belonging to
+Mr. Shelby, the rich man who at first owned Eliza and Harry. Mr. Shelby
+had a great estate, and many slaves to cultivate it, but they all loved
+and respected Tom, for he was a good Christian, and kind to everybody,
+on which account they used all to call him Uncle. Tom's master was kind
+to his slaves, and especially to Tom, because he was honest and careful
+with his property. Tom had a cabin or cottage hard by the rich man's
+house; it was built of logs cut from great trees; there was a garden in
+front, with beautiful flowers and strawberries in it; and climbing
+plants, so common in our country, twined along the walls. Tom had also a
+wife as black as himself; her name was Chloe, and she cooked for the
+Shelbys. You will remember how late she kept the trader's dinner when he
+wanted to pursue Eliza. They had two little sons, with very black faces
+and curly heads, and a little black baby just beginning to walk. Tom and
+his family were very happy in that cabin; the poor negroes used to
+gather there to hear Tom sing hymns and pray, for, as I said, he was a
+pious man, and the slaves had no other church to go to, for many people
+in America will not let negroes worship God with them. Mr. Shelby's son,
+a very clever boy, who had gained many prizes at school, liked Tom too,
+and used to come teach him to read and write in the evenings, and Tom
+had great hopes of being able to read the Bible at last. As Chloe was a
+cook she always contrived to have ready something very nice for Mr.
+George when he came to teach her goodman, and George would stand with
+one eye on Tom's copy, and another on the cake she prepared, while the
+boys and the baby played about them.
+
+[Illustration: ARRIVAL IN THE LAND OF FREEDOM.
+
+          No man can buy or sell them,
+            No trader chase them more,
+          The land of freedom has been gained,
+            The good Canadian shore.]
+
+But all those pleasant days came to an end. Mr. Shelby lost his money,
+and got in debt to a man who dealt in slaves; for that debt he sold
+little Harry to him, and the rest of it was paid with poor Tom. Think
+what sad news that was for the cabin!
+
+
+
+
+TOM AND HIS WIFE HAVE HEARD THAT HE IS SOLD.
+
+
+          The work of the winter day is o'er,
+          But Tom and his wife are weeping sore
+          Beside the hearth, where you can't forget
+          How the cakes were baked, and the copy set.
+
+          Oh, never again will Tom be taught!
+          From his master, by wicked trader bought;
+          And he will carry poor Tom next day,
+          From children, and wife, and home away.
+
+          His home--It was low of roof and wall,
+          But there had been room and love for all,
+          The peace that waits on contented days,
+          The voice of prayer and the hymn of praise.
+
+          And Tom himself, he is black of skin,
+          But, children, his soul is fair within,
+          His life is good and his heart is brave,
+          And yet they have sold him as a slave.
+
+[Illustration: TOM AND HIS WIFE HAVE HEARD THAT HE IS SOLD.
+
+          The fire-light shows on the lowly bed,
+          Each dusky face, and each curly head
+          Of his little children, sound asleep;
+          Oh well may their poor tired mother weep!]
+
+          The fire light shows on the lowly bed,
+          Each dusky face, and each curly head
+          Of his little children, sound asleep;
+          Oh well may their poor tired mother weep!
+
+          Now Tom is trying to soothe her woe:
+          "Dear Chloe 'tis best that I should go,
+          Our babes and you will live safely here,
+          And I may be far, but God is near."
+
+          "Yet think of me, love, when I am gone,
+          And the days of the pleasant spring come on.
+          Don't grieve, dear wife"--and his tears fell fast.
+          "You know we will meet in heaven at last."
+
+
+Tom might have fled away, as Eliza did with Harry, but he took pity on
+Mr. Shelby for being in debt to the trader, and also feared that if he
+fled, his wife and children would be sold to pay it. Poor Chloe wept
+sore, and so did the boys, and all the negroes on the estate were very
+sorry to part with him. George Shelby was from home when Tom was sold,
+and knew nothing about the matter. But he returned that very day, and
+the moment he learned that Tom was gone, he saddled his horse and rode
+after him. When he came up to the waggon he sprang into it, and throwing
+his arms round Tom's neck, began sobbing and scolding most violently.
+
+"I declare it's a shame! I don't care what they say, any of them. It's a
+nasty mean shame! If I was a man, they shouldn't do it," said George.
+
+"Oh, Mas'r George! this does me good!" said Tom. "I couldn't bear 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 eyes fell on the fetters.
+
+"What a shame!" he exclaimed, lifting his hands. "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 any word, and, if it hadn't
+been for Tom Lincoln, I shouldn't have heard it. I tell you, I blew them
+up well, all of them, at home."
+
+"That wasn't right, I'm feared, Mas'r George."
+
+"Can't help it! I say it's a shame! Look here, Uncle Tom," said he,
+turning his back to the rest of the party, and speaking in a mysterious
+tone, "_I've brought you my dollar!_"
+
+"Oh, I couldn't think o' takin' it, Mas'r George, no ways in the world,"
+said Tom, quite moved.
+
+"But you shall take it," said George. "Look here; I told Aunt Chloe I'd
+do it, and she advised me just to make a hole in it, and put 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 _me_ any good."
+
+"Well, I won't, for your sake," said George, busily tying his dollar
+round Tom's neck; "but there, now, button your coat tight over it, and
+keep it, and remember, every time you see it, that I'll come down after
+you, and bring you back. Aunt Chloe and I have been talking about it. I
+told her not to fear; I'll see to it, and I'll tease father's life out
+if he don't do it."
+
+"O, Mas'r George, ye mustn't talk so about your father! You must be a
+good boy; remember how many hearts is set on ye. Always keep close to
+yer mother. Don't be gettin' into them foolish ways boys has of gettin'
+too big to mind their mothers. Tell ye what, Mas'r George, the Lord
+gives good many things twice over; but he don't give ye a mother but
+once. Ye'll never see sich another woman, Mas'r George, 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'r George. Young boys, when they
+come to your age, is wilful, sometimes--it's natur they should be. But
+real gentlemen, such as I hopes you'll be, never lets fall no words that
+isn't respectful to thar parents. Ye an't offended, Mas'r George?"
+
+"No indeed, Uncle Tom; you always did give me good advice."
+
+"I's older, ye know," said Tom, stroking the boy's fine curly head with
+his large, strong hand, but speaking in a voice as tender as a
+woman's--"and I sees all that's bound up in you. O, Mas'r George, you
+has everything--larnin', 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 proud on ye! Be a good mas'r, like
+yer father; and be a Christian, like yer mother. Remember yer Creator in
+the days o' yer youth, Mas'r George. And now, Good-bye, Mas'r George,"
+said Tom, looking fondly and admiringly at him. "God Almighty bless
+you!" Away George went, and Tom looked, till the clatter of his horse's
+heels died away, the last sound or sight of his home.
+
+When the trader was disappointed in catching Harry, he put handcuffs on
+poor Tom to prevent his escape, and took him away in a waggon to a town,
+where he bought more slaves--children from their mothers, and husbands
+from their wives--some of them as black as Tom, and some nearly white,
+like Harry and his mother. Then he put them all on board of a steamboat
+going down the great river Mississippi. You will see on the map that it
+is one of the largest rivers in America. There are many towns on its
+banks, and steamboats go from one to another carrying goods and
+passengers; and the trader seeing that Tom was quiet and peaceable, took
+off the handcuffs, and allowed him to go about the steamboat helping the
+sailors, for Tom would help anybody. There were many people on board
+besides the negroes, and among them a rich gentleman called Mr. St.
+Clair. He was returning home from a visit to his relations, who lived in
+New England, and had with him his little daughter Eva, and his cousin
+Miss Feely. Eva had long yellow curls, and a fair, pretty face; better
+than that, she had the fear of God and the love of all goodness in her
+heart. Always cheerful, meek, and kindly, everybody loved Eva St. Clair,
+especially her father, for she was his only daughter. Tom saw her play
+about the steamboat, for they were days and nights on the voyage. Eva
+used to come close and look at him, when he sat thinking of Chloe and
+the children. The little one was shy, notwithstanding all her busy
+interest in everything going on, and it was not easy to tame her. But at
+last Tom and she got on quite confidential terms.
+
+"What's little missy's name?" said Tom at last, when he thought matters
+were ripe to push such an inquiry.
+
+"Evangeline St. Clair," said the little one, "though papa and everybody
+else call me Eva. Now, what's your name?"
+
+"My name's Tom; the little children used to call me Uncle Tom, away back
+thar in Kentucky."
+
+"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 am going to be sold to somebody. I don't know who."
+
+"My papa can buy you," said Eva, quickly; "and 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.
+
+The boat here stopped at a small landing to take in wood, and Eva,
+hearing her father's voice, bounded nimbly away. Tom rose up, and went
+forward to offer his service in wooding, and soon was busy among the
+hands.
+
+Eva and her father were standing together by the railings to see the
+boat start from the landing-place; the wheel had made two or three
+revolutions in the water, when, by some sudden movement, the little one
+suddenly lost her balance, and fell sheer over the side of the boat,
+into the water. Her father, scarce knowing what he did, was plunging in
+after her, but was held back by some behind him, who saw that more
+efficient aid had followed his child.
+
+Tom was standing just under her on the lower deck as she fell. He saw
+her strike the water and sink, and was after her in a moment. A
+broad-chested, strong-armed fellow, it was nothing for him to keep
+afloat in the water, till, in a moment or two, the child rose to the
+surface, and he caught her in his arms, and, swimming with her to the
+boat-side, handed her up, all dripping, to the grasp of hundreds of
+hands, which, as if they had all belonged to one man, were stretched
+eagerly out to receive her. A few moments more, and her father bore her,
+dripping and senseless, to the ladies' cabin, where she soon recovered.
+
+Her father was much rejoiced, and Eva took such a liking for Tom, that
+she would not rest till the rich Mr. St. Clair had bought him from the
+trader; and the girl hoped that she would one day get her father coaxed
+to set him free. From that day Tom and Eva were great friends. The
+steamer brought them safely to New Orleans. The trader took all his
+slaves away to sell them in that town; and Tom was taken to Mr. St.
+Clair's fine house, where you see him and Eva. You may also see the
+doings of little Topsy, a poor negro child, whom Mr. St. Clair bought,
+and made a present of to his cousin Miss Feely.
+
+
+
+
+EVA PUTTING A WREATH OF FLOWERS ROUND TOM'S NECK.
+
+
+          Poor Tom is far from his cottage now,
+          From his own good wife, and children three,
+          Where coffee, and rice, and cedars grow,
+          By a wide old river like the sea.
+
+          And he has a master rich and kind,
+          With all that his heart can well desire,
+          But homeward still goes the negro's mind,
+          To the curly heads by his cottage fire.
+
+          He the gentle Eva's life did save,
+          When over the great ship's side she fell,
+          And brought her up from the drowning wave,--
+          So Eva had grown to love him well.
+
+          She will read to Tom for hours on hours,
+          And sit with him on the grass all day;
+          You see she is wreathing pretty flowers,
+          About his neck, in her pleasant play.
+
+          Different in colour and in years
+          Are the negro man and that fair child's face;
+          But a likeness in God's sight appears,
+          For both are the children of his grace.
+
+[Illustration: EVA PUTTING A WREATH OF FLOWERS ROUND TOM'S NECK.
+
+          She will read to Tom for hours on hours,
+          And sit with him on the grass all day;
+          You see she is wreathing pretty flowers
+          About his neck, in her pleasant play.]
+
+
+
+
+TOPSY AT THE LOOKING GLASS.
+
+
+          See little Topsy at the glass quite gay,
+          Her mistress has forgot the keys to-day,
+          So she has rummaged every drawer, and dressed
+          Herself out in Miss Feely's very best.
+
+          Mark where she stands! the shawl of gorgeous red
+          Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head;
+          A finer shawl far trailing on the floor,
+          Just shews her bare black elbows, and no more.
+
+          With what an air she flaunts the ivory fan,
+          And tries to step as stately as she can,
+          Mincing fine words to her own shadow, "Dear!
+          How very ungenteel the folks are here!"
+
+          But while that shadow only Topsy sees,
+          Back comes the careful lady for her keys,
+          And finds her in the grandeur all arrayed--
+          Poor Topsy will be punished, I'm afraid.
+
+          Now it is wrong, as every reader knows,
+          To rummage people's drawers, and wear their clothes;
+          But Topsy is a negro child, you see,
+          Who never learned to read like you and me.
+
+          A child whom bad men from her mother sold,
+          Whom a harsh mistress used to cuff and scold,
+          Whom no one taught or cared for all her days,
+          No wonder that the girl had naughty ways.
+
+[Illustration: TOPSY AT THE LOOKING-GLASS.
+
+          Mark where she stands! the shawl of gorgeous red
+          Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head,
+          A finer shawl for trailing on the floor,
+          Just shows her bare black elbows, and no more.]
+
+          No home, no school, no Bible she had seen,
+          How bless'd besides poor Topsy we have been!
+          Yet boys and girls among ourselves, I've known
+          Puffed up with praise for merits not their own.
+
+          The copy by some clever school-mate penned,
+          The witty saying picked up from a friend,
+          Makes many a miss and master look as fine,
+          As if they coined the words or penned the line.
+
+          But none can keep such borrowed plumes as these,
+          For some one still comes back to find the keys,
+          And so they are found out, it comes to pass,
+          Just like poor Topsy at the looking-glass.
+
+
+
+
+TOPSY BRINGING FLOWERS TO EVA.
+
+
+          Poor Topsy, trying to be kind,
+          Has brought a bunch of garden flowers
+          To Eva, when she lies reclined
+          Through the bright summer's sultry hours.
+
+          For sickness hangs on Eva now,
+          She can no longer run or play,
+          Her cheek is pale, her voice is low,
+          And there she lies the livelong day.
+
+          Yet Eva does not fear to die,
+          She knows a better home remains
+          For her, beyond the great blue sky,
+          Where comes no sickness, tears, or pains.
+
+[Illustration: TOPSY BRINGING FLOWERS TO EVA.
+
+          "Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"
+          Says Eva in her gentle mood,
+          "She brought such pretty flowers to-day,
+          Indeed she's trying to be good."]
+
+          For in her happier days of health
+          She read and prized her Bible true,
+          Above this poor world's pride or wealth,
+          And loved her blessed Saviour too.
+
+          And she like him was kind to all,
+          And pity on poor Topsy had,
+          Because the rest would scold and call
+          Her names, for being black and bad.
+
+          So Eva strove to make her good,
+          And told her, of all tales the best,
+          How Christ came down to shed his blood,
+          That sinners might be saved and blest.
+
+          Poor Topsy tried to understand--
+          None ever taught her so before--
+          And brought the sweet flowers in her hand,--
+          The negro girl could do no more.
+
+          But Eva's proud mamma comes in
+          With scornful look and frown severe,
+          She cries, "begone, you nasty thing!
+          In all the world what brings you here?"
+
+          "Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"
+          Says Eva in her gentle mood,
+          "She brought such pretty flowers to-day,
+          Indeed she's trying to be good."
+
+          "I'm going fast, where there will be
+          No difference, but in sins forgiven,
+          And mother it might chance that we
+          Would bring poor Topsy flowers in heaven."
+
+[Illustration: DEATH OF EVA.
+
+          Oh, swift and sad were the tears that fell,
+            As her gifts among them passed,
+          And Tom, he got the first fair curl,
+            And Topsy got the last.]
+
+
+
+
+THE DEATH OF EVA.
+
+
+          There is peace on Eva's wasted brow,
+            And a soft light in her eye;
+          But her father's heart grows hopeless now,
+            For he knows that she must die.
+
+          Yet the thought is kind and the trust is true,
+            As she takes him by the hand,--
+          Dear father I will look for you
+            In the light of God's own land.
+
+          "Oh let them cut the long, long curls
+            That flow about my head,
+          And let our poor kind negroes come
+            For a moment round my bed.
+
+          "They have smoothed and stroked it many a day
+            In their kindly sport, and care,
+          And it may be they will think of me
+            When they see that curling hair."
+
+          The negroes loved her, young and old,
+            With a fond and deep regard,
+          For Eva's look was never sour,
+            And her words were never hard.
+
+          And her old nurse by the bedside stood,
+            Sore sobbing in her woe,
+          That so many sinners here should stay,
+            And the good and young should go.
+
+          "Dear nurse," said Eva, "I go home
+            To the happiest home of all;
+          Where never an evil thing will come,
+            And never a tear will fall.
+
+          "And I will hope each one to see,
+            That blessed home within;
+          Where Christ himself will set us free
+            From the bonds of death and sin."
+
+          Oh, swift and sad were the tears that fell,
+            As her gifts among them passed,
+          And Tom, he got the first fair curl,
+            And Topsy got the last.
+
+          But first and last alike were given,
+            With some words of love and prayer;
+          And it may be, hearts were helped to heaven,
+            By the links of that soft hair.
+
+When Eva was dead and buried, Tom missed her sore, but he knew it was
+the will of God, and tried to comfort his master. Mr. St. Clair intended
+to set him free for Eva's sake. He was a kind man, but given to delay,
+and one day a wicked man stabbed him in a coffee-house, when he was
+trying to settle a quarrel. Mrs. St. Clair was a proud, hard-hearted
+woman, who cared for nobody but herself. She sold all the negroes, and
+Tom among them, to a cruel cotton planter, called Legree, and you shall
+see how he behaved.
+
+
+
+
+LEGREE STRIKING TOM.
+
+
+          Tom's good wife Chloe, far at home,
+            And his boys so blythe and black,
+          Are all working hard, in hopes to win
+            The dollars, to buy him back.
+
+          And George, who taught him long ago,
+            Has many a pleasant plan,
+          To pay his price, and set him free.
+            When he comes to be a man.
+
+          But little does that wicked man,
+            In his angry madness, know,
+          That God himself will take account
+            Of each cruel word and blow.
+
+          And children dear, who see him here,
+            At night and morning pray,
+          That you may never have aught like this
+            Laid up for the judgment day!
+
+By the time all these things happened, George Shelby had grown up; but
+when he came to buy back Tom, the pious, kindly negro, had been so
+ill-treated by that cruel planter, because he tried to save the other
+slaves from his evil temper, that he lay dying in an old shed; and there
+was no law to punish the wicked planter, because Tom was black.
+
+When George entered the shed where Tom lay, he felt his head giddy and
+his heart sick.
+
+"Is it possible?" said he, kneeling down by him. "Uncle Tom, my poor,
+poor old friend!"
+
+Something in the voice penetrated to the ear of the dying. He smiled,
+and said--
+
+          "Jesus can make a dying bed
+           Feel soft as downy pillows are."
+
+Tears fell from the young man's eyes as he bent over his poor friend.
+
+"O, dear Uncle Tom! do wake--do speak once more! Look up. Here's Mas'r
+George--your own little Mas'r George. Don't you know me?"
+
+"Mas'r George!" said Tom, opening his eyes, and speaking in a feeble
+voice--"Mas'r George!" He looked bewildered.
+
+Slowly the idea seemed to fill his soul; and the vacant eye became fixed
+and brightened, the whole face lighted up, the hard hands clasped, and
+tears ran down the cheeks.
+
+"Bless the Lord' it is--it is--it's all I wanted! They haven't forgot
+me. It warms my soul; it does my old heart good! Now I shall die
+content! Bless the Lord, O my soul!"
+
+He began to draw his breath with long, deep aspirations; and his broad
+chest rose and fell heavily. The expression of his face was that of a
+conqueror.
+
+"Who--who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" he said, in a
+voice that contended with mortal weakness; and with a smile he fell
+asleep.
+
+Beyond the boundaries of the plantation George had noticed a dry, sandy
+knoll, shaded by a few trees; there they made a grave for poor Tom.
+
+"Shall we take off the cloak, mas'r?" said the negroes, when the grave
+was ready.
+
+"No, no; bury it with him. It's all I can give you now, poor Tom, and
+you shall have it."
+
+They laid him in; and the men shovelled away silently. They banked it
+up, and laid green turf over it.
+
+"You may go, boys," said George, slipping a quarter dollar into the hand
+of each. They lingered about, however.
+
+"If young mas'r would please buy us," said one.
+
+"We'd serve him so faithful!" said the other. "Do, mas'r, buy us,
+please!"
+
+"I can't--I can't," said George, with difficulty, motioning them off;
+"it's impossible!"
+
+The poor fellows looked dejected, and walked off in silence.
+
+"Witness, eternal God," said George, kneeling on the grave of his poor
+friend--"O, witness that, from this hour, I will do _what one man can_
+to drive out this curse of slavery from my land!"
+
+There is no monument to mark the last resting-place of poor Tom. He
+needs none. His Lord knows where he lies, and will raise him up
+immortal, to appear with Him when He shall appear in his glory.
+
+
+[Illustration: LEGREE STRIKING TOM.
+
+          But little does that wicked man,
+            In his angry madness, know,
+          That God himself will take account
+            Of each cruel word and blow.]
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE EVA SONG.
+
+UNCLE TOM'S GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+          WORDS BY JOHN G. WHITTIER . . . . MUSIC BY MANUEL EMILIO.
+
+[Illustration: Music]
+
+          Dry the tears for holy Eva!
+          With the blesséd angels leave her;
+          Of the form so sweet and fair,
+          Give to earth the tender care.
+          For the golden locks of Eva,
+          Let the sunny south land give her
+          Flow'ry pillow of repose,
+          Orange bloom and budding rose,
+          Orange bloom and budding rose.
+
+          All is light and peace with Eva;
+          There the darkness cometh never;
+          Tears are wiped, and fetters fall,
+          And the Lord is all in all.
+          Weep no more for happy Eva;
+          Wrong and sin no more shall grieve her,
+          Care, and pain, and weariness,
+          Lost in love so measureless!
+
+          Gentle Eva, loving Eva,
+          Child confessor, true believer,
+          Listener at the Master's knee,
+          "Suffer such to come to me."
+          O for faith like thine, sweet Eva,
+          Lighting all the solemn river,
+          And the blessing of the poor,
+          Wafting to the heavenly shore.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's
+Cabin, by Unknown
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES FROM UNCLE TOM'S CABIN ***
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin, by Unknown
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin
+
+Author: Unknown
+
+Editor: John P. Jewett
+
+Release Date: February 8, 2009 [EBook #28021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES FROM UNCLE TOM'S CABIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file made using scans of public domain works at the
+University of Georgia.) Music file created by Linda Cantoni.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h3>THIS LITTLE WORK</h3>
+
+<h4>IS DESIGNED TO ADAPT</h4>
+
+<h2>MRS. STOWE'S TOUCHING NARRATIVE</h2>
+
+<h4>TO THE UNDERSTANDINGS OF THE YOUNGEST READERS<br />
+<br />
+AND TO FOSTER IN THEIR HEARTS<br />
+<br />
+A GENEROUS SYMPATHY <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'FOE'">FOR</ins> THE<br /></h4>
+
+<h3>WRONGED NEGRO RACE OF AMERICA.</h3>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
+<p>The purpose of the Editor of this little Work, has been to adapt it for the
+juvenile family circle. The verses have accordingly been written by the
+Authoress for the capacity of the youngest readers, and have been printed in a
+large bold type. The prose parts of the book, which are well suited for being
+read aloud in the family circle, are printed in a smaller type, and it is presumed
+that in these our younger friends will claim the assistance of their older brothers
+or sisters, or appeal to the ready aid of their mamma.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">January</span>, 1853.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='copyright'>
+Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by<br />
+<span class="smcap">John P. Jewett and Company,</span><br />
+In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="366" height="500" alt="Cover" title="" />
+</div>
+<h1><span class="smcap">Pictures and Stories</span></h1>
+
+<h3>From</h3>
+
+<h1>UNCLE TOM'S<br />
+CABIN.</h1>
+
+
+<h3><br /><br />Published by John P. Jewett &amp; Co., Boston.</h3>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+<h2>UNCLE TOM'S<br />
+PICTURE BOOK.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Come read my book good boys and girls<br />
+That live on freedom's ground,<br />
+With pleasant homes, and parents dear,<br />
+And blithesome playmates round;<br />
+And you will learn a woeful tale,<br />
+Which a good woman told,<br />
+About the poor black negro race,<br />
+How they are bought and sold.<br />
+<br />
+Within our own America<br />
+Where these bad deeds are done,<br />
+A father and a mother lived<br />
+Who had a little son;<br />
+As slaves, they worked for two rich men,<br />
+Whose fields were fair and wide&mdash;<br />
+But Harry was their only joy,<br />
+They had no child beside.<br />
+<br />
+Now Harry's hair was thick with curls<br />
+And softly bright his eyes,<br />
+And he could play such funny tricks<br />
+And look so wondrous wise,<br />
+That all about the rich man's house<br />
+Were pleased to see him play,<br />
+Till a wicked trader buying slaves<br />
+Came there one winter day.<br />
+<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 307px;">
+<img src="images/p006.jpg" width="307" height="500" alt="THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Oh children dear, 'twas sad to hear,<br />
+That for the trader's gold,<br />
+To that hard-hearted evil man<br />
+Her own sweet boy was sold.<br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+<div class='poem'>
+<br />
+The trader and the rich man sat<br />
+Together, at their wine,<br />
+When in poor simple Harry slipped<br />
+In hopes of something fine.<br />
+He shewed them how the dandy danced,<br />
+And how old Cudjoe walked,<br />
+Till loud they laughed and gave him grapes,<br />
+And then in whispers talked.<br />
+<br />
+The young child knew not what they said,<br />
+But at the open door<br />
+Eliza, his poor mother, stood,<br />
+With heart all sick and sore.<br />
+Oh children dear, 'twas sad to hear,<br />
+That for the trader's gold,<br />
+To that hard-hearted evil man<br />
+Her own sweet boy was sold.<br />
+<br />
+And he would take him far away,<br />
+To where the cotton grew,<br />
+And sell him for a slave to men<br />
+More hard and wicked too.<br />
+She knew that none would heed his woe,<br />
+His want, or sickness there,<br />
+Nor ever would she see his face,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>Or hear his evening prayer.<br />
+<br />
+So when the house was all asleep,<br />
+And when the stars were bright,<br />
+She took her Harry in her arms,<br />
+And fled through that cold night:&mdash;<br />
+Away through bitter frost and snow<br />
+Did that poor mother flee;<br />
+And how she fared, and what befell,<br />
+Read on, and you shall see.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Before setting out, Eliza took a piece of paper
+and a pencil, and wrote hastily the following note
+to her kind mistress, who had tried in vain to save
+little Harry from being sold:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh missus! dear missus! don't think me ungrateful;
+don't think hard of me. I am going to
+try to save my boy; you will not blame me! God
+bless and reward you for all your kindness!"</p>
+
+<p>Hastily folding and directing this, she went to a
+drawer and made up a little package of clothing for
+her boy, which she tied firmly round her waist;
+and so fond is a mother's remembrance, that even
+in the terrors of that hour she did not forget to
+put up in the little package one or two of his favourite
+toys.</p>
+
+<p>On the bed lay her slumbering boy, his long
+curls falling negligently around his unconscious
+face, his rosy mouth half open, his little fat hands
+thrown out over the bed-clothes, and a smile spread
+like a sunbeam over his whole face. "Poor boy!
+poor fellow!" said Eliza, "they have sold you, but
+your mother will save you yet."</p>
+
+<p>It was some trouble to arouse the little sleeper;
+but after some effort he sat up, and began playing
+with his wooden bird, while his mother was putting
+on her bonnet and shawl.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going, mother?" said he, as
+she drew near the bed with his little coat and cap.</p>
+
+<p>His mother drew near, and looked so earnestly
+into his eyes, that he at once divined that something
+unusual was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Harry," she said; "mustn't speak loud,
+or they will hear us. A wicked man was coming
+to take little Harry away from his mother, and
+carry him 'way off in the dark; but mother won't
+let him&mdash;she's going to put on her little boy's cap
+and coat, and run off with him, so the ugly man
+can't catch him."</p>
+
+<p>Saying these words, she had tied and buttoned
+on the child's simple outfit, and taking him in her
+arms, she whispered to him to be very still; and,
+opening the door, she glided noiselessly out.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sparkling, frosty, starlight night, and
+the mother wrapped the shawl close round her
+child, as, perfectly quiet with terror, he clung round
+her neck.</p>
+
+<p>At first the novelty and alarm kept him waking;
+but after they had gone a considerable way, poor
+Harry said, as he found himself sinking to sleep&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mother I don't need to keep awake, do I?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, my darling; sleep now, if you want to."</p>
+
+<p>"But, mother, if I do get asleep, you won't let
+him get me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No! so may God help me!" said his mother
+with a paler cheek, and a brighter light in her large
+dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You're <i>sure</i>, an't you, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, <i>sure</i>!" said the mother, in a voice that
+startled herself; for it seemed to her to come from a
+spirit within, that was no part of her; and the boy
+dropped his little weary head on her shoulder, and
+was soon asleep.</p>
+
+<p>When morning came, as poor Harry complained
+of hunger and thirst, she sat down behind a large
+rock, which hid them from the road, and gave him
+a breakfast out of her little package. The boy
+wondered and grieved that she could not eat, and
+when putting his arms round her neck he tried to
+force some of his cake into her mouth, it seemed
+to her that the rising in her throat would choke
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Harry, darling! mother can't eat till
+you are safe! We must go on&mdash;on&mdash;till we come
+to the river." And she hurried again into the
+road and proceeded on her journey.</p>
+
+<p>When the trader came to take away Harry, he
+was in a great rage, because neither the boy nor
+his mother could be found. The master who sold
+him was also very angry, and ordered two of his
+negroes, called Andy and Sam, to bring out two of
+the swiftest horses, and help the trader to pursue
+Eliza, and take Harry from her. Andy and Sam
+did not like that work, but being slaves, they dare
+not disobey. However, they did what they could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
+to detain the trader; for, pretending to be in great
+haste, they squalled for this and that, and frightened
+the horses, till they ran off over hedges and ditches,
+with Andy and Sam after them, laughing till their
+sides ached as soon as they got out of sight. The
+trader all the while stood cursing and swearing, like
+a wicked man as he was.</p>
+
+<p>When the horses were caught, they were so tired
+with their race, that he was fain to let them stay
+and rest till dinner-time. But when dinner-time
+came, Chloe the cook, of whom you will hear more
+in the course of the story, spilled one dish,
+kept another long in baking; and so the trader
+did not get his dinner till it was late in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>The horses were brought out at last, and he set
+off with Sam and Andy in pursuit of poor Harry
+and his mother. They had gone a great way by
+this time, and Eliza's feet were sore with walking
+all the night and day, and Harry was ready to lie
+down and sleep on the snow. As the sun was setting,
+they came in sight of the great river Ohio.
+There was no bridge over it. People crossed in
+boats in the summer time, and in winter on the
+thick ice, with which it was always covered. Now
+it was the month of February. The ice had broken,
+because spring was near. The river was swollen
+over all its banks, and no boatman would venture
+on it. There was a little inn hard by, and there
+poor Eliza hoped to get a little rest for herself and
+Harry, who was now fast asleep in her arms. She
+had just sat down by the fire, when, who should
+ride into the yard but the trader and his guides.
+The swift horses had brought them much quicker
+than she and Harry could walk, but the weary
+mother would not lose her child. She darted out
+with him that moment, and the verses will tell you
+by what means she escaped.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ELIZA CROSSING THE RIVER</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+From her resting-place by the trader chased,<br />
+Through the winter evening cold,<br />
+Eliza came with her boy at last,<br />
+Where a broad deep river rolled.<br />
+<br />
+Great blocks of the floating ice were there,<br />
+And the water's roar was wild,<br />
+But the cruel trader's step was near,<br />
+Who would take her only child.<br />
+<br />
+Poor Harry clung around her neck,<br />
+But a word he could not say,<br />
+For his very heart was faint with fear,<br />
+And with flying all that day.<br />
+<br />
+Her arms about the boy grew tight,<br />
+With a loving clasp, and brave;<br />
+"Hold fast! Hold fast, now, Harry dear,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>And it may be God will save."<br />
+<br />
+From the river's bank to the floating ice<br />
+She took a sudden bound,<br />
+And the great block swayed beneath her feet<br />
+With a dull and heavy sound.<br />
+<br />
+So over the roaring rushing flood,<br />
+From block to block she sprang,<br />
+And ever her cry for God's good help<br />
+Above the waters rang.<br />
+<br />
+And God did hear that mother's cry,<br />
+For never an ice-block sank;<br />
+While the cruel trader and his men<br />
+Stood wondering on the bank.<br />
+<br />
+A good man saw on the farther side,<br />
+And gave her his helping hand;<br />
+So poor Eliza, with her boy,<br />
+Stood safe upon the land.<br />
+<br />
+A blessing on that good man's arm,<br />
+On his house, and field, and store;<br />
+May he never want a friendly hand<br />
+To help him to the shore!<br />
+<br />
+A blessing on all that make such haste,<br />
+Whatever their hands can do!<br />
+For they that succour the sore distressed,<br />
+Our Lord will help them too.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<p>When the two negroes saw Eliza's escape, they
+began to laugh and cheer; on which the trader
+chased them with his horsewhip, cursing and swearing
+as usual. But he could not get over the river,
+and went in very bad temper to spend that night at
+the little inn, determined to get a boat, if possible,
+and catch Harry in the morning. The man who
+had helped Eliza up the river's bank, showed her a
+pretty white house at some distance, where a kind
+gentleman and his wife lived. The dark night had
+fallen, the tea-cups were on the table, and the fires
+were bright in kitchen and parlour, when the poor
+mother, all wet and weary, her feet cut by the sharp
+ice (for she had lost her shoes in the river), walked
+in, with Harry still in her arms. Before she could
+ask for shelter, she dropped down fainting on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+floor. The good people of the house thought she
+was dead, and raised a terrible alarm. Mr. and
+Mrs. Bird ran into the kitchen to see what had
+happened. They were good, kind people, and great
+in that place, for Mr. Bird was a member of the
+American Parliament. He kept slaves himself,
+and tried to think it was no sin. He had even been
+trying that very night, in conversation with his wife,
+to defend a law lately passed, which forbade any one
+to give shelter to poor runaway slaves. But Mrs. Bird
+would listen to no defence of such a law, and said,
+"It is a shameful, wicked, and abominable law, and
+I'll break it for one the first time I have a chance,
+and I hope I shall have a chance too. I know nothing
+about politics, 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. No, no, John, said she, you may talk all
+night, but you would not do what you say. Would
+you now turn away a poor, shivering, hungry
+creature from your door because he was a runaway?
+Would you, now?"</p>
+
+<p>Now, if the truth must be told, Mr. Bird was a
+very kind man, and could not in his heart give a
+very decided reply to his wife; and it was just at
+this moment that poor Eliza and little Harry came
+to his door. As we said, Mr. and Mrs. Bird ran
+to the kitchen to see what had happened. They
+found poor Eliza just recovering from her faint.
+She stared wildly round her for a moment, and then
+sprang to her feet, saying, "Oh! my Harry! have
+you got him?" The boy at this ran to her, and
+put his arms round her neck. "Oh! he's here, he's
+here!" she exclaimed. And then she cried wildly
+to Mrs. Bird, "O, ma'am, do protect us, don't let
+them get him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody shall hurt you here, poor woman,"
+said Mrs. Bird. "You are safe; don't be afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you," said the woman, covering her
+face and sobbing, while poor little Harry, seeing her
+crying, tried to get into her lap.</p>
+
+<p>With many gentle and womanly offices which no
+one knew better how to render than Mrs. Bird, the
+poor woman was rendered more calm. A temporary
+bed was provided for her near the fire; and
+after a short time, Eliza, faint and weary with her
+long journey, fell into a heavy slumber, with little
+Harry soundly sleeping on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder who and what she is," said Mr. Bird,
+when he had gone back to the parlour with his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p>"When she wakes and feels a little rested, we
+shall see," said Mrs. Bird, who began to busy herself
+with her knitting.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bird took up a newspaper, and pretended to
+be reading it, but it was not long before he turned
+to his wife and said, "I say, wife, couldn't she
+wear one of your gowns; and there's that old cloak
+that you keep on purpose to put over me when I
+take my afternoon's nap, you might give her that;
+she needs clothes."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bird simply replied, "We'll see;" but a
+quiet smile passed over her face as she remembered
+the conversation they had had together that very
+night before Eliza and little Harry came to their
+door.</p>
+
+<p>After an hour or two, Eliza awoke, and Mr. and
+Mrs. Bird again went to the kitchen. As they
+entered, poor Eliza lifted her dark eyes, and fixed
+them on Mrs. Bird, with such a forlorn and imploring
+expression, that the tears came into the kind-hearted
+woman's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You need not be afraid of anything; we are
+friends here, poor woman! Tell me where you
+came from, and what you want?" said she.</p>
+
+<p>"I came from Kentucky," said poor Eliza.</p>
+
+<p>"And what induced you to run away?" said
+Mrs. Bird.</p>
+
+<p>The woman looked up with a keen, scrutinising
+glance, and it did not escape her that Mrs. Bird
+was dressed in deep mourning.</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am," she said, suddenly, "have you ever
+lost a child?"</p>
+
+<p>The question was unexpected, and it was a
+thrust on a new wound; for it was only a month
+since a darling child of the family had been laid in
+the grave.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bird turned round and walked to the window,
+and Mrs. Bird burst into tears; but, recovering
+her voice, she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you ask that? I have lost a little
+one."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will feel for me. I have lost two,
+one after another&mdash;left them buried there when I
+came away; and I had only this one left. I never
+slept a night without him; he was all I had. He
+was my comfort and pride day and night; and,
+ma'am, they were going to take him away from me&mdash;to
+<i>sell</i> him&mdash;a baby that had never been away
+from his mother in his life! 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
+were signed and he was sold, I took him and came
+off in the night, and they chased me&mdash;the man that
+bought him and some of master's folks, and they
+were coming down right behind me, and I heard
+them&mdash;I jumped right on to the ice, and how I got
+across I don't know, but first I knew a man was
+helping me up the bank."</p>
+
+<p>"Crossed on the ice?" cried every one present.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said poor Eliza, slowly. "I did, God
+helping me. I crossed on the ice, for they were
+behind me&mdash;right behind&mdash;and there was no other
+way!"</p>
+
+<p>All around were affected to tears by Eliza's
+story.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bird himself, to hide his feelings, had to
+turn away, and became particularly busy in wiping
+his spectacle-glasses and blowing his nose.</p>
+
+<p>After a short pause, Mrs. Bird asked:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And where do you mean to go to, my poor
+woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Canada if I only knew where that was. Is
+it very far off ma'am?" said she, looking up with a
+simple and confiding air to Mrs. Bird's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor woman," said Mrs. Bird, "it is much
+further off than you think; but we will try to think
+what can be done for you. Here Dinah," said she
+to one of the servants, "make her up a bed in your
+own room 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."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bird and her husband re-entered the parlour.
+She sat down in her little rocking chair before the
+fire, swinging it thoughtfully to and fro. Mr. Bird
+strode up and down the room, grumbling to himself.
+At length, striding up to his wife, he said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I say, wife, she'll have to get away from here
+this very night. That trader fellow will be down
+after her early to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>"To-night," said Mrs. Bird, "how is it possible&mdash;and
+where to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I know pretty well where to," said Mr.
+Bird, beginning to put on his boots. "I know
+a place where she would be safe enough, but the
+plague of the thing is, nobody could drive a carriage
+there to-night but me. The creek has to be crossed
+twice, and the second crossing is quite dangerous,
+unless one know it as I do. But never mind. I'll
+take her over myself. There is no help for it. I
+could not bear to see the poor woman caught."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, thank you, dear John," said the
+wife, laying her white hand on his&mdash;"Could I ever
+have loved you had I not known you better than
+you do yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>Off Mr. Bird set to see about the carriage, but at
+the door he stopped for a moment, and then coming
+back, he said, with a quivering voice,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mary, I don't know how you'd feel about it,
+but there's the drawer full of things&mdash;of&mdash;of&mdash;poor
+little Henry's." So saying, he turned quickly on
+his heel, and shut the door after him.</p>
+
+<p>His wife opened the little bedroom door adjoining
+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 two boys, 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 there never been in your house a
+drawer, or a closet, the opening of which has been
+to you like the opening again of a little grave?
+Ah! happy mother that you are, if it has not
+been so!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bird slowly opened the drawer. There
+were little coats of many a form and pattern, 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 waggon, a top, a ball&mdash;memorials
+gathered with many a tear and many a heartbreak!
+She sat down by the drawer, and leaning her head
+on her hands over it, wept till the tears fell through
+her fingers into the drawer; then suddenly raising
+her head, she began, with nervous haste, selecting
+the plainest and most substantial articles, and
+gathering them into a bundle.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma," said one of the boys, gently touching
+her arm, "are you going to give away those
+things?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boys," she said, softly and earnestly,
+"if our dear, loving, little Henry looks down from
+heaven, he would be glad to have us do this. I
+could not find it in my heart to give them away to
+any common person&mdash;to anybody that was happy;
+but I give them to a mother more heart-broken
+and sorrowful than I am; and I hope God will
+send his blessings with them!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bird returned about twelve o'clock with the
+carriage. "Mary," said he, coming in with his
+overcoat in his hand, you must wake her up now.
+"We must be off." Soon arrayed in a cloak, bonnet,
+and shawl that had belonged to her benefactress,
+poor Eliza appeared at the door with her child in
+her arms. When she got seated in the carriage,
+she fixed her large dark eyes on Mrs. Bird's face,
+and seemed going to speak. Her lips moved, but
+there was no sound; pointing upward with a look
+never to be forgotten, she fell back in her seat and
+covered her face. The door was shut, and the
+carriage drove on.</p>
+
+<p>It was not long before they arrived at the place
+where Mr. Bird thought they would be safe from
+the cruel trader. It was a village about seven
+miles off, consisting of neat houses, with orchards
+and meadows about them.</p>
+
+<p>They all belonged to Quakers, a sect of Christians
+whom foolish people laugh at, because they think it
+right to wear broad-brimmed hats, and odd old-fashioned
+bonnets; but they do many good and charitable
+things, especially for the poor negroes, and
+one of them took Harry and his mother in.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot tell all the kindness the Quaker and his
+family did to them, giving Harry such good things,
+and watching lest the trader should come that way;
+but the greatest joy of all was, one evening, when
+a tall strong man, called Phineas Fletcher, who was
+a Quaker, and a great traveller, guided to the
+village Harry's poor father, George. His master
+was going to sell him too, and he had run away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+and searched everywhere for his wife and child, to
+take them with him to Canada, which you know
+belongs to England. Oh what a happy meeting
+that was between George, Eliza, and little Harry.</p>
+
+<p>But they could not remain long with the kind
+Quakers. Their cruel pursuers had found out
+where they were hid, so they had all to set out
+again together. This time they were guided by
+the brave-hearted Phineas Fletcher, and hoped to
+reach Canada in safety. But their pursuers overtook
+them, and they had to run to the rocks to
+defend themselves, as the verses will tell.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE DEFENCE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+See Harry's poor father, with pistol in hand,<br />
+How bravely he takes on the steep rock his stand,<br />
+Over rivers, and forests, and towns he has passed,<br />
+And found his Eliza and Harry at last.<br />
+<br />
+The kind Quaker folks that wear drab, brown, and gray,<br />
+To the wanderers gave shelter and bread on their way,<br />
+Their warm clothes were given them, their waggon was lent,<br />
+And the strong-armed Phineas along with them went.<br />
+<br />
+Their hope was to journey to Canada's shore,<br />
+Where the trader or master could reach them no more;<br />
+For the English flag floats there, o'er land and o'er sea,<br />
+And they knew in its shadow the negro was free.<br />
+<br />
+But far is their way through the slave-dealing land,<br />
+And now on their track comes the trader's fierce band;<br />
+So for refuge and rest to the rocks they have run,<br />
+And the father will fight for his wife and his son.<br />
+<br />
+He fires on the first up the steep rock that springs,<br />
+But the trader comes on, shouting all wicked things,<br />
+Till Phineas right over the crag flings him clear,<br />
+Saying, "Friend, in my mind thou hast no business here."<br />
+<br />
+Then off go the traders to find them more men,<br />
+And off go the friends in their waggon again;<br />
+But don't you wish well to the good man for life,<br />
+Who would fight for his freedom, his child, and his wife?<br /><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 306px;">
+<img src="images/p014.jpg" width="306" height="500" alt="THE DEFENCE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE DEFENCE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+But far is their way through the slave-dealing land,<br />
+And now on their track comes the trader's fierce band<br />
+So for refuge and rest to the rocks they have run,<br />
+And the father will fight for his wife and his son.<br /><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After this, George and Eliza, with their little
+Harry, journeyed on, never stopping, except at the
+house of another kind friend, to disguise themselves
+before going on board the steamboat, which at last
+brought them safe to Canada.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ARRIVAL IN THE LAND OF FREEDOM.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Look on the travellers kneeling,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In thankful gladness, here,</span><br />
+As the boat that brought them o'er the lake,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Goes steaming from the pier.</span><br />
+<br />
+'Tis Harry, like a girl disguised,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His mother, like a boy,</span><br />
+But the father kneels beside them,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And their hearts are full of joy.</span><br />
+<br />
+No man can buy or sell them,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No trader chase them more,</span><br />
+The land of freedom has been gained,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The good Canadian shore.</span><br />
+<br />
+And they are strangers on the soil,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As poor as poor can be,</span><br />
+But the English flag above them floats,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They know that they are free.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>George got employment in a factory, and as he
+was active and clever in his work, he soon earned
+enough to take a pretty little house, where they all
+lived together. Harry grew older, and went to
+school, where he was a good boy, and never forgot
+how God had preserved him from the wicked trader,
+and what his poor mother had suffered to bring
+him away. His father, George, though he worked
+all day, was learning too from all sorts of good
+books, which he used to read by the fire in the
+evenings. He was ever thinking of the poor
+heathen kings in Africa, and the negroes they sold
+for slaves. So at last, when he had learned a great
+deal, he determined to become a missionary; and,
+with his wife and family, he embarked for Africa,
+where he still labours, teaching the poor negroes
+the glad tidings of the gospel.</p>
+
+
+<h3><br />WHO UNCLE TOM WAS.</h3>
+
+<p>Now I must tell you something about Uncle
+Tom, from whom this book is named. He was a
+negro man, as black as jet, and a slave, belonging
+to Mr. Shelby, the rich man who at first owned
+Eliza and Harry. Mr. Shelby had a great estate,
+and many slaves to cultivate it, but they all loved
+and respected Tom, for he was a good Christian,
+and kind to everybody, on which account they used
+all to call him Uncle. Tom's master was kind to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+cabin or cottage hard by the rich man's house; it
+his slaves, and especially to Tom, because he was
+honest and careful with his property. Tom had a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+was built of logs cut from great trees; there was a
+garden in front, with beautiful flowers and strawberries
+in it; and climbing plants, so common in
+our country, twined along the walls. Tom had also
+a wife as black as himself; her name was Chloe, and
+she cooked for the Shelbys. You will remember
+how late she kept the trader's dinner when he wanted
+to pursue Eliza. They had two little sons, with very
+black faces and curly heads, and a little black baby
+just beginning to walk. Tom and his family were
+very happy in that cabin; the poor negroes used to
+gather there to hear Tom sing hymns and pray,
+for, as I said, he was a pious man, and the slaves
+had no other church to go to, for many people in
+America will not let negroes worship God with
+them. Mr. Shelby's son, a very clever boy, who
+had gained many prizes at school, liked Tom too,
+and used to come teach him to read and write in
+the evenings, and Tom had great hopes of being
+able to read the Bible at last. As Chloe was a cook
+she always contrived to have ready something very
+nice for Mr. George when he came to teach her
+goodman, and George would stand with one eye on
+Tom's copy, and another on the cake she prepared,
+while the boys and the baby played about them.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 305px;">
+<img src="images/p016.jpg" width="305" height="500" alt="ARRIVAL IN THE LAND OF FREEDOM." title="" />
+<span class="caption">ARRIVAL IN THE LAND OF FREEDOM.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+No man can buy or sell them,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No trader chase them more,</span><br />
+The land of freedom has been gained,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The good Canadian shore.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>But all those pleasant days came to an end. Mr.
+Shelby lost his money, and got in debt to a man
+who dealt in slaves; for that debt he sold little
+Harry to him, and the rest of it was paid with
+poor Tom. Think what sad news that was for the
+cabin!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TOM AND HIS WIFE HAVE HEARD THAT<br />
+HE IS SOLD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+The work of the winter day is o'er,<br />
+But Tom and his wife are weeping sore<br />
+Beside the hearth, where you can't forget<br />
+How the cakes were baked, and the copy set.<br />
+<br />
+Oh, never again will Tom be taught!<br />
+From his master, by wicked trader bought;<br />
+And he will carry poor Tom next day,<br />
+From children, and wife, and home away.<br />
+<br />
+His home&mdash;It was low of roof and wall,<br />
+But there had been room and love for all,<br />
+The peace that waits on contented days,<br />
+The voice of prayer and the hymn of praise.<br />
+<br />
+And Tom himself, he is black of skin,<br />
+But, children, his soul is fair within,<br />
+His life is good and his heart is brave,<br />
+And yet they have sold him as a slave.<br /><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 251px;">
+<img src="images/alt-p017.jpg" width="251" height="400" alt="TOM AND HIS WIFE HAVE HEARD THAT HE IS SOLD." title="" />
+<span class="caption">TOM AND HIS WIFE HAVE HEARD THAT HE IS SOLD.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+The fire-light shows on the lowly bed,<br />
+Each dusky face, and each curly head<br />
+Of his little children, sound asleep;<br />
+Oh well may their poor tired mother weep!<br /><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+The fire light shows on the lowly bed,<br />
+Each dusky face, and each curly head<br />
+Of his little children, sound asleep;<br />
+Oh well may their poor tired mother weep!<br />
+<br />
+Now Tom is trying to soothe her woe:<br />
+"Dear Chloe 'tis best that I should go,<br />
+Our babes and you will live safely here,<br />
+And I may be far, but God is near."<br />
+<br />
+"Yet think of me, love, when I am gone,<br />
+And the days of the pleasant spring come on.<br />
+Don't grieve, dear wife"&mdash;and his tears fell fast.<br />
+"You know we will meet in heaven at last."<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Tom might have fled away, as Eliza did with
+Harry, but he took pity on Mr. Shelby for being
+in debt to the trader, and also feared that if he
+fled, his wife and children would be sold to pay it.
+Poor Chloe wept sore, and so did the boys, and all
+the negroes on the estate were very sorry to part
+with him. George Shelby was from home when
+Tom was sold, and knew nothing about the matter.
+But he returned that very day, and the moment
+he learned that Tom was gone, he saddled his horse
+and rode after him. When he came up to the
+waggon he sprang into it, and throwing his arms
+round Tom's neck, began sobbing and scolding
+most violently.</p>
+
+<p>"I declare it's a shame! I don't care what they
+say, any of them. It's a nasty mean shame! If I
+was a man, they shouldn't do it," said George.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mas'r George! this does me good!" said
+Tom. "I couldn't bear 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 eyes
+fell on the fetters.</p>
+
+<p>"What a shame!" he exclaimed, lifting his hands.
+"I'll knock that old fellow down&mdash;I will!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you won't, Mas'r George; and you must not
+talk so loud. It won't help me any, to anger him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I won't, then, for your sake; but only
+to think of it&mdash;isn't it a shame? They never sent
+for me, nor sent me any word, and, if it hadn't
+been for Tom Lincoln, I shouldn't have heard it.
+I tell you, I blew them up well, all of them, at
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"That wasn't right, I'm feared, Mas'r George."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't help it! I say it's a shame! Look here,
+Uncle Tom," said he, turning his back to the rest
+of the party, and speaking in a mysterious tone,
+"<i>I've brought you my dollar!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I couldn't think o' takin' it, Mas'r George,
+no ways in the world," said Tom, quite moved.</p>
+
+<p>"But you shall take it," said George. "Look
+here; I told Aunt Chloe I'd do it, and she advised
+me just to make a hole in it, and put 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."</p>
+
+<p>"No, don't, Mas'r George, for it won't do <i>me</i>
+any good."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I won't, for your sake," said George,
+busily tying his dollar round Tom's neck; "but
+there, now, button your coat tight over it, and
+keep it, and remember, every time you see it, that
+I'll come down after you, and bring you back.
+Aunt Chloe and I have been talking about it. I told
+her not to fear; I'll see to it, and I'll tease father's
+life out if he don't do it."</p>
+
+<p>"O, Mas'r George, ye mustn't talk so about
+your father! You must be a good boy; remember
+how many hearts is set on ye. Always keep close
+to yer mother. Don't be gettin' into them foolish
+ways boys has of gettin' too big to mind their
+mothers. Tell ye what, Mas'r George, the Lord
+gives good many things twice over; but he don't
+give ye a mother but once. Ye'll never see sich<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+another woman, Mas'r George, 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&mdash;you will, now, won't ye?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will, Uncle Tom," said George, seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"And be careful of yer speaking, Mas'r George.
+Young boys, when they come to your age, is wilful,
+sometimes&mdash;it's natur they should be. But
+real gentlemen, such as I hopes you'll be, never lets
+fall no words that isn't respectful to thar parents.
+Ye an't offended, Mas'r George?"</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed, Uncle Tom; you always did give
+me good advice."</p>
+
+<p>"I's older, ye know," said Tom, stroking the
+boy's fine curly head with his large, strong hand,
+but speaking in a voice as tender as a woman's&mdash;"and
+I sees all that's bound up in you. O, Mas'r
+George, you has everything&mdash;larnin', privileges,
+readin', writin'&mdash;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 proud on ye!
+Be a good mas'r, like yer father; and be a Christian,
+like yer mother. Remember yer Creator in the
+days o' yer youth, Mas'r George. And now, Good-bye,
+Mas'r George," said Tom, looking fondly and
+admiringly at him. "God Almighty bless you!"
+Away George went, and Tom looked, till the clatter
+of his horse's heels died away, the last sound or
+sight of his home.</p>
+
+<p>When the trader was disappointed in catching
+Harry, he put handcuffs on poor Tom to prevent
+his escape, and took him away in a waggon to a
+town, where he bought more slaves&mdash;children from
+their mothers, and husbands from their wives&mdash;some
+of them as black as Tom, and some nearly white,
+like Harry and his mother. Then he put them all
+on board of a steamboat going down the great river
+Mississippi. You will see on the map that it is one
+of the largest rivers in America. There are many
+towns on its banks, and steamboats go from one to
+another carrying goods and passengers; and the
+trader seeing that Tom was quiet and peaceable,
+took off the handcuffs, and allowed him to go about
+the steamboat helping the sailors, for Tom would
+help anybody. There were many people on board
+besides the negroes, and among them a rich gentleman
+called Mr. St. Clair. He was returning home
+from a visit to his relations, who lived in New
+England, and had with him his little daughter Eva,
+and his cousin Miss Feely. Eva had long yellow
+curls, and a fair, pretty face; better than that, she
+had the fear of God and the love of all goodness in
+her heart. Always cheerful, meek, and kindly,
+everybody loved Eva St. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'clair'">Clair</ins>, especially her father,
+for she was his only daughter. Tom saw her play
+about the steamboat, for they were days and nights
+on the voyage. Eva used to come close and look at
+him, when he sat thinking of Chloe and the children.
+The little one was shy, notwithstanding all
+her busy interest in everything going on, and it was
+not easy to tame her. But at last Tom and she got
+on quite confidential terms.</p>
+
+<p>"What's little missy's name?" said Tom at last,
+when he thought matters were ripe to push such an
+inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"Evangeline St. Clair," said the little one,
+"though papa and everybody else call me Eva.
+Now, what's your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"My name's Tom; the little children used to
+call me Uncle Tom, away back thar in Kentucky."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, I mean to call you Uncle Tom, because,
+you see, I like you," said Eva. "So, Uncle Tom,
+where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Miss Eva."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know?" said Eva.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I am going to be sold to somebody. I
+don't know who."</p>
+
+<p>"My papa can buy you," said Eva, quickly;
+"and if he buys you, you will have good times. I
+mean to ask him to, this very day."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, my little lady," said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>The boat here stopped at a small landing to take
+in wood, and Eva, hearing her father's voice,
+bounded nimbly away. Tom rose up, and went
+forward to offer his service in wooding, and soon
+was busy among the hands.</p>
+
+<p>Eva and her father were standing together by
+the railings to see the boat start from the landing-place;
+the wheel had made two or three revolutions
+in the water, when, by some sudden movement,
+the little one suddenly lost her balance, and fell
+sheer over the side of the boat, into the water.
+Her father, scarce knowing what he did, was
+plunging in after her, but was held back by some
+behind him, who saw that more efficient aid had
+followed his child.</p>
+
+<p>Tom was standing just under her on the lower
+deck as she fell. He saw her strike the water and
+sink, and was after her in a moment. A broad-chested,
+strong-armed fellow, it was nothing for
+him to keep afloat in the water, till, in a moment or
+two, the child rose to the surface, and he caught
+her in his arms, and, swimming with her to the
+boat-side, handed her up, all dripping, to the grasp
+of hundreds of hands, which, as if they had all
+belonged to one man, were stretched eagerly out to
+receive her. A few moments more, and her father
+bore her, dripping and senseless, to the ladies'
+cabin, where she soon recovered.</p>
+
+<p>Her father was much rejoiced, and Eva took
+such a liking for Tom, that she would not rest till
+the rich Mr. St. Clair had bought him from the
+trader; and the girl hoped that she would one day
+get her father coaxed to set him free. From that
+day Tom and Eva were great friends. The steamer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+brought them safely to New Orleans. The trader
+took all his slaves away to sell them in that town;
+and Tom was taken to Mr. St. Clair's fine house,
+where you see him and Eva. You may also see
+the doings of little Topsy, a poor negro child,
+whom Mr. St. Clair bought, and made a present of
+to his cousin Miss Feely.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>EVA PUTTING A WREATH OF FLOWERS ROUND TOM'S NECK.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Poor Tom is far from his cottage now,<br />
+From his own good wife, and children three,<br />
+Where coffee, and rice, and cedars grow,<br />
+By a wide old river like the sea.<br />
+<br />
+And he has a master rich and kind,<br />
+With all that his heart can well desire,<br />
+But homeward still goes the negro's mind,<br />
+To the curly heads by his cottage fire.<br />
+<br />
+He the gentle Eva's life did save,<br />
+When over the great ship's side she fell,<br />
+And brought her up from the drowning wave,&mdash;<br />
+So Eva had grown to love him well.<br />
+<br />
+She will read to Tom for hours on hours,<br />
+And sit with him on the grass all day;<br />
+You see she is wreathing pretty flowers,<br />
+About his neck, in her pleasant play.<br />
+<br />
+Different in colour and in years<br />
+Are the negro man and that fair child's face;<br />
+But a likeness in God's sight appears,<br />
+For both are the children of his grace.<br /><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 321px;">
+<img src="images/p020.jpg" width="321" height="500" alt="EVA PUTTING A WREATH OF FLOWERS ROUND TOM&#39;S NECK." title="" />
+<span class="caption">EVA PUTTING A WREATH OF FLOWERS ROUND TOM&#39;S NECK.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+She will read to Tom for hours on hours,<br />
+And sit with him on the grass all day;<br />
+You see she is wreathing pretty flowers<br />
+About his neck, in her pleasant play.<br /><br /></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>TOPSY AT THE LOOKING GLASS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+See little Topsy at the glass quite gay,<br />
+Her mistress has forgot the keys to-day,<br />
+So she has rummaged every drawer, and dressed<br />
+Herself out in Miss Feely's very best.<br />
+<br />
+Mark where she stands! the shawl of gorgeous red<br />
+Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head;<br />
+A finer shawl far trailing on the floor,<br />
+Just shews her bare black elbows, and no more.<br />
+<br />
+With what an air she flaunts the ivory fan,<br />
+And tries to step as stately as she can,<br />
+Mincing fine words to her own shadow, "Dear!<br />
+How very ungenteel the folks are here!"<br />
+<br />
+But while that shadow only Topsy sees,<br />
+Back comes the careful lady for her keys,<br />
+And finds her in the grandeur all arrayed&mdash;<br />
+Poor Topsy will be punished, I'm afraid.<br />
+<br />
+Now it is wrong, as every reader knows,<br />
+To rummage people's drawers, and wear their clothes;<br />
+But Topsy is a negro child, you see,<br />
+Who never learned to read like you and me.<br />
+<br />
+A child whom bad men from her mother sold,<br />
+Whom a harsh mistress used to cuff and scold,<br />
+Whom no one taught or cared for all her days,<br />
+No wonder that the girl had naughty ways.<br /><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 301px;">
+<img src="images/p022.jpg" width="301" height="500" alt="TOPSY AT THE LOOKING-GLASS." title="" />
+<span class="caption">TOPSY AT THE LOOKING-GLASS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Mark where she stands! the shawl of gorgeous red<br />
+Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head,<br />
+A finer shawl for trailing on the floor,<br />
+Just shows her bare black elbows, and no more.<br /><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+No home, no school, no Bible she had seen,<br />
+How bless'd besides poor Topsy we have been!<br />
+Yet boys and girls among ourselves, I've known<br />
+Puffed up with praise for merits not their own.<br />
+<br />
+The copy by some clever school-mate penned,<br />
+The witty saying picked up from a friend,<br />
+Makes many a miss and master look as fine,<br />
+As if they coined the words or penned the line.<br />
+<br />
+But none can keep such borrowed plumes as these,<br />
+For some one still comes back to find the keys,<br />
+And so they are found out, it comes to pass,<br />
+Just like poor Topsy at the looking-glass.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TOPSY BRINGING FLOWERS TO EVA.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Poor Topsy, trying to be kind,<br />
+Has brought a bunch of garden flowers<br />
+To Eva, when she lies reclined<br />
+Through the bright summer's sultry hours.<br />
+<br />
+For sickness hangs on Eva now,<br />
+She can no longer run or play,<br />
+Her cheek is pale, her voice is low,<br />
+And there she lies the livelong day.<br />
+<br />
+Yet Eva does not fear to die,<br />
+She knows a better home remains<br />
+For her, beyond the great blue sky,<br />
+Where comes no sickness, tears, or pains.<br /><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 309px;">
+<img src="images/p024.jpg" width="309" height="500" alt="TOPSY BRINGING FLOWERS TO EVA." title="" />
+<span class="caption">TOPSY BRINGING FLOWERS TO EVA.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+"Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"<br />
+Says Eva in her gentle mood,<br />
+"She brought such pretty flowers to-day,<br />
+Indeed she's trying to be good."<br /><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+For in her happier days of health<br />
+She read and prized her Bible true,<br />
+Above this poor world's pride or wealth,<br />
+And loved her blessed Saviour too.<br />
+<br />
+And she like him was kind to all,<br />
+And pity on poor Topsy had,<br />
+Because the rest would scold and call<br />
+Her names, for being black and bad.<br />
+<br />
+So Eva strove to make her good,<br />
+And told her, of all tales the best,<br />
+How Christ came down to shed his blood,<br />
+That sinners might be saved and blest.<br />
+<br />
+Poor Topsy tried to understand&mdash;<br />
+None ever taught her so before&mdash;<br />
+And brought the sweet flowers in her hand,&mdash;<br />
+The negro girl could do no more.<br />
+<br />
+But Eva's proud mamma comes in<br />
+With scornful look and frown severe,<br />
+She cries, "begone, you nasty thing!<br />
+In all the world what brings you here?"<br />
+<br />
+"Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"<br />
+Says Eva in her gentle mood,<br />
+"She brought such pretty flowers to-day,<br />
+Indeed she's trying to be good."<br />
+<br />
+"I'm going fast, where there will be<br />
+No difference, but in sins forgiven,<br />
+And mother it might chance that we<br />
+Would bring poor Topsy flowers in heaven."<br /><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 318px;">
+<img src="images/p026.jpg" width="318" height="500" alt="DEATH OF EVA." title="" />
+<span class="caption">DEATH OF EVA.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Oh, swift and sad were the tears that fell,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As her gifts among them passed,</span><br />
+And Tom, he got the first fair curl,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Topsy got the last.</span><br /><br /></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE DEATH OF EVA.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+There is peace on Eva's wasted brow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a soft light in her eye;</span><br />
+But her father's heart grows hopeless now,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he knows that she must die.</span><br />
+<br />
+Yet the thought is kind and the trust is true,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As she takes him by the hand,&mdash;</span><br />
+Dear father I will look for you<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the light of God's own land.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Oh let them cut the long, long curls<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That flow about my head,</span><br />
+And let our poor kind negroes come<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For a moment round my bed.</span><br />
+<br />
+"They have smoothed and stroked it many a day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In their kindly sport, and care,</span><br />
+And it may be they will think of me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When they see that curling hair."</span><br />
+<br />
+The negroes loved her, young and old,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a fond and deep regard,</span><br />
+For Eva's look was never sour,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her words were never hard.</span><br />
+<br />
+And her old nurse by the bedside stood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sore sobbing in her woe,</span><br />
+That so many sinners here should stay,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the good and young should go.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Dear nurse," said Eva, "I go home<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the happiest home of all;</span><br />
+Where never an evil thing will come,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never a tear will fall.</span><br />
+<br />
+"And I will hope each one to see,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That blessed home within;</span><br />
+Where Christ himself will set us free<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the bonds of death and sin."</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh, swift and sad were the tears that fell,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As her gifts among them passed,</span><br />
+And Tom, he got the first fair curl,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Topsy got the last.</span><br />
+<br />
+But first and last alike were given,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With some words of love and prayer;</span><br />
+And it may be, hearts were helped to heaven,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the links of that soft hair.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>When Eva was dead and buried, Tom missed
+her sore, but he knew it was the will of God, and
+tried to comfort his master. Mr. St. Clair intended
+to set him free for Eva's sake. He was a kind
+man, but given to delay, and one day a wicked
+man stabbed him in a coffee-house, when he was
+trying to settle a quarrel. Mrs. St. Clair was a
+proud, hard-hearted woman, who cared for nobody
+but herself. She sold all the negroes, and Tom
+among them, to a cruel cotton planter, called
+Legree, and you shall see how he behaved.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>LEGREE STRIKING TOM.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Tom's good wife Chloe, far at home,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his boys so blythe and black,</span><br />
+Are all working hard, in hopes to win<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dollars, to buy him back.</span><br />
+<br />
+And George, who taught him long ago,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has many a pleasant plan,</span><br />
+To pay his price, and set him free.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he comes to be a man.</span><br />
+<br />
+But little does that wicked man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In his angry madness, know,</span><br />
+That God himself will take account<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of each cruel word and blow.</span><br />
+<br />
+And children dear, who see him here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At night and morning pray,</span><br />
+That you may never have aught like this<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laid up for the judgment day!</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>By the time all these things happened, George
+Shelby had grown up; but when he came to buy
+back Tom, the pious, kindly negro, had been so
+ill-treated by that cruel planter, because he tried to
+save the other slaves from his evil temper, that he
+lay dying in an old shed; and there was no law to
+punish the wicked planter, because Tom was
+black.</p>
+
+<p>When George entered the shed where Tom lay,
+he felt his head giddy and his heart sick.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible?" said he, kneeling down by him.
+"Uncle Tom, my poor, poor old friend!"</p>
+
+<p>Something in the voice penetrated to the ear of
+the dying. He smiled, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Jesus can make a dying bed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Feel soft as downy pillows are."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Tears fell from the young man's eyes as he bent
+over his poor friend.</p>
+
+<p>"O, dear Uncle Tom! do wake&mdash;do speak once
+more! Look up. Here's Mas'r George&mdash;your own
+little Mas'r George. Don't you know me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mas'r George!" said Tom, opening his eyes,
+and speaking in a feeble voice&mdash;"Mas'r George!"
+He looked bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the idea seemed to fill his soul; and the
+vacant eye became fixed and brightened, the whole
+face lighted up, the hard hands clasped, and tears
+ran down the cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless the Lord' it is&mdash;it is&mdash;it's all I wanted!
+They haven't forgot me. It warms my soul; it
+does my old heart good! Now I shall die content!
+Bless the Lord, O my soul!"</p>
+
+<p>He began to draw his breath with long, deep
+aspirations; and his broad chest rose and fell
+heavily. The expression of his face was that of a
+conqueror.</p>
+
+<p>"Who&mdash;who shall separate us from the love of
+Christ?" he said, in a voice that contended with
+mortal weakness; and with a smile he fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond the boundaries of the plantation George
+had noticed a dry, sandy knoll, shaded by a few
+trees; there they made a grave for poor Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we take off the cloak, mas'r?" said the
+negroes, when the grave was ready.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; bury it with him. It's all I can give
+you now, poor Tom, and you shall have it."</p>
+
+<p>They laid him in; and the men shovelled away
+silently. They banked it up, and laid green turf
+over it.</p>
+
+<p>"You may go, boys," said George, slipping a
+quarter dollar into the hand of each. They lingered
+about, however.</p>
+
+<p>"If young mas'r would please buy us," said one.</p>
+
+<p>"We'd serve him so faithful!" said the other.
+"Do, mas'r, buy us, please!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't&mdash;I can't," said George, with difficulty,
+motioning them off; "it's impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>The poor fellows looked dejected, and walked off
+in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Witness, eternal God," said George, kneeling
+on the grave of his poor friend&mdash;"O, witness that,
+from this hour, I will do <i>what one man can</i> to drive
+out this curse of slavery from my land!"</p>
+
+<p>There is no monument to mark the last resting-place
+of poor Tom. He needs none. His Lord
+knows where he lies, and will raise him up immortal,
+to appear with Him when He shall appear in
+his glory.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 315px;">
+<img src="images/p030.jpg" width="315" height="500" alt="LEGREE STRIKING TOM." title="" />
+<span class="caption">LEGREE STRIKING TOM.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+But little does that wicked man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In his angry madness, know,</span><br />
+That God himself will take account<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of each cruel word and blow.</span><br /><br /></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>LITTLE EVA SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3>UNCLE TOM'S GUARDIAN ANGEL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+WORDS BY JOHN G. WHITTIER &nbsp;. &nbsp;. &nbsp;. &nbsp;. &nbsp;MUSIC BY MANUEL EMILIO.<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 584px;">
+<img src="images/music.jpg" width="584" height="218" alt="Music" title="" />
+</div><div class="center"><small>[<i>Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/littleeva.mid">here</a>.]</small></div>
+
+<div class='poem'><br />
+Dry the tears for holy Eva!<br />
+With the bless&eacute;d angels leave her;<br />
+Of the form so sweet and fair,<br />
+Give to earth the tender care.<br />
+For the golden locks of Eva,<br />
+Let the sunny south land give her<br />
+Flow'ry pillow of repose,<br />
+Orange bloom and budding rose,<br />
+Orange bloom and budding rose.<br />
+<br />
+All is light and peace with Eva;<br />
+There the darkness cometh never;<br />
+Tears are wiped, and fetters fall,<br />
+And the Lord is all in all.<br />
+Weep no more for happy Eva;<br />
+Wrong and sin no more shall grieve her,<br />
+Care, and pain, and weariness,<br />
+Lost in love so measureless!<br />
+<br />
+Gentle Eva, loving Eva,<br />
+Child confessor, true believer,<br />
+Listener at the Master's knee,<br />
+"Suffer such to come to me."<br />
+O for faith like thine, sweet Eva,<br />
+Lighting all the solemn river,<br />
+And the blessing of the poor,<br />
+Wafting to the heavenly shore.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
+<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p>
+
+<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's
+Cabin, by Unknown
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+</pre>
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+</body>
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+Project Gutenberg's Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin, by Unknown
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin
+
+Author: Unknown
+
+Editor: John P. Jewett
+
+Release Date: February 8, 2009 [EBook #28021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES FROM UNCLE TOM'S CABIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file made using scans of public domain works at the
+University of Georgia.) Music file created by Linda Cantoni.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THIS LITTLE WORK
+
+IS DESIGNED TO ADAPT
+
+MRS. STOWE'S TOUCHING NARRATIVE
+
+TO THE UNDERSTANDINGS OF THE YOUNGEST READERS
+
+AND TO FOSTER IN THEIR HEARTS
+
+A GENEROUS SYMPATHY FOR THE
+
+WRONGED NEGRO RACE OF AMERICA.
+
+The purpose of the Editor of this little Work, has been to adapt it for
+the juvenile family circle. The verses have accordingly been written by
+the Authoress for the capacity of the youngest readers, and have been
+printed in a large bold type. The prose parts of the book, which are
+well suited for being read aloud in the family circle, are printed in a
+smaller type, and it is presumed that in these our younger friends will
+claim the assistance of their older brothers or sisters, or appeal to
+the ready aid of their mamma.
+
+JANUARY, 1853.
+
+          Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by
+          JOHN P. JEWETT AND COMPANY,
+          In the Clerk's Office of the District Court
+               of the District of Massachusetts.
+
+
+
+
+PICTURES AND STORIES
+
+From
+
+UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.
+
+Published by John P. Jewett & Co., Boston.
+
+
+
+
+UNCLE TOM'S PICTURE BOOK.
+
+
+
+
+THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.
+
+
+          Come read my book good boys and girls
+          That live on freedom's ground,
+          With pleasant homes, and parents dear,
+          And blithesome playmates round;
+          And you will learn a woeful tale,
+          Which a good woman told,
+          About the poor black negro race,
+          How they are bought and sold.
+
+          Within our own America
+          Where these bad deeds are done,
+          A father and a mother lived
+          Who had a little son;
+          As slaves, they worked for two rich men,
+          Whose fields were fair and wide--
+          But Harry was their only joy,
+          They had no child beside.
+
+          Now Harry's hair was thick with curls
+          And softly bright his eyes,
+          And he could play such funny tricks
+          And look so wondrous wise,
+
+[Illustration: THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.
+
+          Oh children dear, 'twas sad to hear,
+          That for the trader's gold,
+          To that hard-hearted evil man
+          Her own sweet boy was sold.]
+
+
+          That all about the rich man's house
+          Were pleased to see him play,
+          Till a wicked trader buying slaves
+          Came there one winter day.
+
+          The trader and the rich man sat
+          Together, at their wine,
+          When in poor simple Harry slipped
+          In hopes of something fine.
+          He shewed them how the dandy danced,
+          And how old Cudjoe walked,
+          Till loud they laughed and gave him grapes,
+          And then in whispers talked.
+
+          The young child knew not what they said,
+          But at the open door
+          Eliza, his poor mother, stood,
+          With heart all sick and sore.
+          Oh children dear, 'twas sad to hear,
+          That for the trader's gold,
+          To that hard-hearted evil man
+          Her own sweet boy was sold.
+
+          And he would take him far away,
+          To where the cotton grew,
+          And sell him for a slave to men
+          More hard and wicked too.
+          She knew that none would heed his woe,
+          His want, or sickness there,
+          Nor ever would she see his face,
+          Or hear his evening prayer.
+
+
+          So when the house was all asleep,
+          And when the stars were bright,
+          She took her Harry in her arms,
+          And fled through that cold night:--
+          Away through bitter frost and snow
+          Did that poor mother flee;
+          And how she fared, and what befell,
+          Read on, and you shall see.
+
+
+Before setting out, Eliza took a piece of paper and a pencil, and wrote
+hastily the following note to her kind mistress, who had tried in vain
+to save little Harry from being sold:--
+
+"Oh missus! dear missus! don't think me ungrateful; don't think hard of
+me. I am going to try to save my boy; you will not blame me! God bless
+and reward you for all your kindness!"
+
+Hastily folding and directing this, she went to a drawer and made up a
+little package of clothing for her boy, which she tied firmly round her
+waist; and so fond is a mother's remembrance, that even in the terrors
+of that hour she did not forget to put up in the little package one or
+two of his favourite toys.
+
+On the bed lay her slumbering boy, his long curls falling negligently
+around his unconscious face, his rosy mouth half open, his little fat
+hands thrown out over the bed-clothes, and a smile spread like a sunbeam
+over his whole face. "Poor boy! poor fellow!" said Eliza, "they have
+sold you, but your mother will save you yet."
+
+It was some trouble to arouse the little sleeper; but after some effort
+he sat up, and began playing with his wooden bird, while his mother was
+putting on her bonnet and shawl.
+
+"Where are you going, mother?" said he, as she drew near the bed with
+his little coat and cap.
+
+His mother drew near, and looked so earnestly into his eyes, that he at
+once divined that something unusual was the matter.
+
+"Hush, Harry," she said; "mustn't speak loud, or they will hear us. A
+wicked man was coming to take little Harry away from his mother, and
+carry him 'way off in the dark; but mother won't let him--she's going to
+put on her little boy's cap and coat, and run off with him, so the ugly
+man can't catch him."
+
+Saying these words, she had tied and buttoned on the child's simple
+outfit, and taking him in her arms, she whispered to him to be very
+still; and, opening the door, she glided noiselessly out.
+
+It was a sparkling, frosty, starlight night, and the mother wrapped the
+shawl close round her child, as, perfectly quiet with terror, he clung
+round her neck.
+
+At first the novelty and alarm kept him waking; but after they had gone
+a considerable way, poor Harry said, as he found himself sinking to
+sleep--
+
+"Mother I don't need to keep awake, do I?"
+
+"No, my darling; sleep now, if you want to."
+
+"But, mother, if I do get asleep, you won't let him get me?"
+
+"No! so may God help me!" said his mother with a paler cheek, and a
+brighter light in her large dark eyes.
+
+"You're _sure_, an't you, mother?"
+
+"Yes, _sure_!" said the mother, in a voice that startled herself; for it
+seemed to her to come from a spirit within, that was no part of her; and
+the boy dropped his little weary head on her shoulder, and was soon
+asleep.
+
+When morning came, as poor Harry complained of hunger and thirst, she
+sat down behind a large rock, which hid them from the road, and gave him
+a breakfast out of her little package. The boy wondered and grieved that
+she could not eat, and when putting his arms round her neck he tried to
+force some of his cake into her mouth, it seemed to her that the rising
+in her throat would choke her.
+
+"No, no, Harry, darling! mother can't eat till you are safe! We must go
+on--on--till we come to the river." And she hurried again into the road
+and proceeded on her journey.
+
+When the trader came to take away Harry, he was in a great rage, because
+neither the boy nor his mother could be found. The master who sold him
+was also very angry, and ordered two of his negroes, called Andy and
+Sam, to bring out two of the swiftest horses, and help the trader to
+pursue Eliza, and take Harry from her. Andy and Sam did not like that
+work, but being slaves, they dare not disobey. However, they did what
+they could to detain the trader; for, pretending to be in great haste,
+they squalled for this and that, and frightened the horses, till they
+ran off over hedges and ditches, with Andy and Sam after them, laughing
+till their sides ached as soon as they got out of sight. The trader all
+the while stood cursing and swearing, like a wicked man as he was.
+
+When the horses were caught, they were so tired with their race, that he
+was fain to let them stay and rest till dinner-time. But when
+dinner-time came, Chloe the cook, of whom you will hear more in the
+course of the story, spilled one dish, kept another long in baking; and
+so the trader did not get his dinner till it was late in the afternoon.
+
+The horses were brought out at last, and he set off with Sam and Andy in
+pursuit of poor Harry and his mother. They had gone a great way by this
+time, and Eliza's feet were sore with walking all the night and day, and
+Harry was ready to lie down and sleep on the snow. As the sun was
+setting, they came in sight of the great river Ohio. There was no bridge
+over it. People crossed in boats in the summer time, and in winter on
+the thick ice, with which it was always covered. Now it was the month of
+February. The ice had broken, because spring was near. The river was
+swollen over all its banks, and no boatman would venture on it. There
+was a little inn hard by, and there poor Eliza hoped to get a little
+rest for herself and Harry, who was now fast asleep in her arms. She had
+just sat down by the fire, when, who should ride into the yard but the
+trader and his guides. The swift horses had brought them much quicker
+than she and Harry could walk, but the weary mother would not lose her
+child. She darted out with him that moment, and the verses will tell you
+by what means she escaped.
+
+
+
+
+ELIZA CROSSING THE RIVER
+
+
+          From her resting-place by the trader chased,
+          Through the winter evening cold,
+          Eliza came with her boy at last,
+          Where a broad deep river rolled.
+
+          Great blocks of the floating ice were there,
+          And the water's roar was wild,
+          But the cruel trader's step was near,
+          Who would take her only child.
+
+          Poor Harry clung around her neck,
+          But a word he could not say,
+          For his very heart was faint with fear,
+          And with flying all that day.
+
+          Her arms about the boy grew tight,
+          With a loving clasp, and brave;
+          "Hold fast! Hold fast, now, Harry dear,
+          And it may be God will save."
+
+          From the river's bank to the floating ice
+          She took a sudden bound,
+          And the great block swayed beneath her feet
+          With a dull and heavy sound.
+
+          So over the roaring rushing flood,
+          From block to block she sprang,
+          And ever her cry for God's good help
+          Above the waters rang.
+
+          And God did hear that mother's cry,
+          For never an ice-block sank;
+          While the cruel trader and his men
+          Stood wondering on the bank.
+
+          A good man saw on the farther side,
+          And gave her his helping hand;
+          So poor Eliza, with her boy,
+          Stood safe upon the land.
+
+          A blessing on that good man's arm,
+          On his house, and field, and store;
+          May he never want a friendly hand
+          To help him to the shore!
+
+          A blessing on all that make such haste,
+          Whatever their hands can do!
+          For they that succour the sore distressed,
+          Our Lord will help them too.
+
+
+When the two negroes saw Eliza's escape, they began to laugh and cheer;
+on which the trader chased them with his horsewhip, cursing and swearing
+as usual. But he could not get over the river, and went in very bad
+temper to spend that night at the little inn, determined to get a boat,
+if possible, and catch Harry in the morning. The man who had helped
+Eliza up the river's bank, showed her a pretty white house at some
+distance, where a kind gentleman and his wife lived. The dark night had
+fallen, the tea-cups were on the table, and the fires were bright in
+kitchen and parlour, when the poor mother, all wet and weary, her feet
+cut by the sharp ice (for she had lost her shoes in the river), walked
+in, with Harry still in her arms. Before she could ask for shelter, she
+dropped down fainting on the floor. The good people of the house
+thought she was dead, and raised a terrible alarm. Mr. and Mrs. Bird ran
+into the kitchen to see what had happened. They were good, kind people,
+and great in that place, for Mr. Bird was a member of the American
+Parliament. He kept slaves himself, and tried to think it was no sin. He
+had even been trying that very night, in conversation with his wife, to
+defend a law lately passed, which forbade any one to give shelter to
+poor runaway slaves. But Mrs. Bird would listen to no defence of such a
+law, and said, "It is a shameful, wicked, and abominable law, and I'll
+break it for one the first time I have a chance, and I hope I shall have
+a chance too. I know nothing about politics, 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. No, no, John,
+said she, you may talk all night, but you would not do what you say.
+Would you now turn away a poor, shivering, hungry creature from your
+door because he was a runaway? Would you, now?"
+
+Now, if the truth must be told, Mr. Bird was a very kind man, and could
+not in his heart give a very decided reply to his wife; and it was just
+at this moment that poor Eliza and little Harry came to his door. As we
+said, Mr. and Mrs. Bird ran to the kitchen to see what had happened.
+They found poor Eliza just recovering from her faint. She stared wildly
+round her for a moment, and then sprang to her feet, saying, "Oh! my
+Harry! have you got him?" The boy at this ran to her, and put his arms
+round her neck. "Oh! he's here, he's here!" she exclaimed. And then she
+cried wildly to Mrs. Bird, "O, ma'am, do protect us, don't let them get
+him!"
+
+"Nobody shall hurt you here, poor woman," said Mrs. Bird. "You are safe;
+don't be afraid."
+
+"God bless you," said the woman, covering her face and sobbing, while
+poor little Harry, seeing her crying, tried to get into her lap.
+
+With many gentle and womanly offices which no one knew better how to
+render than Mrs. Bird, the poor woman was rendered more calm. A
+temporary bed was provided for her near the fire; and after a short
+time, Eliza, faint and weary with her long journey, fell into a heavy
+slumber, with little Harry soundly sleeping on her arm.
+
+"I wonder who and what she is," said Mr. Bird, when he had gone back to
+the parlour with his wife.
+
+"When she wakes and feels a little rested, we shall see," said Mrs.
+Bird, who began to busy herself with her knitting.
+
+Mr. Bird took up a newspaper, and pretended to be reading it, but it was
+not long before he turned to his wife and said, "I say, wife, couldn't
+she wear one of your gowns; and there's that old cloak that you keep on
+purpose to put over me when I take my afternoon's nap, you might give
+her that; she needs clothes."
+
+Mrs. Bird simply replied, "We'll see;" but a quiet smile passed over her
+face as she remembered the conversation they had had together that very
+night before Eliza and little Harry came to their door.
+
+After an hour or two, Eliza awoke, and Mr. and Mrs. Bird again went to
+the kitchen. As they entered, poor Eliza lifted her dark eyes, and fixed
+them on Mrs. Bird, with such a forlorn and imploring expression, that
+the tears came into the kind-hearted woman's eyes.
+
+"You need not be afraid of anything; we are friends here, poor woman!
+Tell me where you came from, and what you want?" said she.
+
+"I came from Kentucky," said poor Eliza.
+
+"And what induced you to run away?" said Mrs. Bird.
+
+The woman looked up with a keen, scrutinising glance, and it did not
+escape her that Mrs. Bird was dressed in deep mourning.
+
+"Ma'am," she said, suddenly, "have you ever lost a child?"
+
+The question was unexpected, and it was a thrust on a new wound; for it
+was only a month since a darling child of the family had been laid in
+the grave.
+
+Mr. Bird turned round and walked to the window, 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
+them buried there when I came away; and I had only this one left. I
+never slept a night without him; he was all 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--a baby that had never been away from his mother in
+his life! 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 were signed and he was
+sold, I took him and came off in the night, and they chased me--the man
+that bought him and some of master's folks, and they were coming down
+right behind me, and I heard them--I jumped right on to the ice, and how
+I got across I don't know, but first I knew a man was helping me up the
+bank."
+
+"Crossed on the ice?" cried every one present.
+
+"Yes," said poor Eliza, slowly. "I did, God helping me. I crossed on the
+ice, for they were behind me--right behind--and there was no other way!"
+
+All around were affected to tears by Eliza's story.
+
+Mr. Bird himself, to hide his feelings, had to turn away, and became
+particularly busy in wiping his spectacle-glasses and blowing his nose.
+
+After a short pause, Mrs. Bird asked:--
+
+"And where do you mean to go to, my poor woman?"
+
+"To Canada if I only knew where that was. Is it very far off ma'am?"
+said she, looking up with a simple and confiding air to Mrs. Bird's
+face.
+
+"Poor woman," said Mrs. Bird, "it is much further off than you think;
+but we will try to think what can be done for you. Here Dinah," said she
+to one of the servants, "make her up a bed in your own room 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 re-entered the parlour. She sat down in her
+little rocking chair before the fire, swinging it thoughtfully to and
+fro. Mr. Bird strode up and down the room, grumbling to himself. At
+length, striding up to his wife, he said:--
+
+"I say, wife, she'll have to get away from here this very night. That
+trader fellow will be down after her early to-morrow morning."
+
+"To-night," said Mrs. Bird, "how is it possible--and where to?"
+
+"Well, I know pretty well where to," said Mr. Bird, beginning to put on
+his boots. "I know a place where she would be safe enough, but the
+plague of the thing is, nobody could drive a carriage there to-night but
+me. The creek has to be crossed twice, and the second crossing is quite
+dangerous, unless one know it as I do. But never mind. I'll take her
+over myself. There is no help for it. I could not bear to see the poor
+woman caught."
+
+"Thank you, thank you, dear John," said the wife, laying her white hand
+on his--"Could I ever have loved you had I not known you better than you
+do yourself?"
+
+Off Mr. Bird set to see about the carriage, but at the door he stopped
+for a moment, and then coming back, he said, with a quivering voice,--
+
+"Mary, I don't know how you'd feel about it, but there's the 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 bedroom door adjoining 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 two boys, 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 there never been in
+your house a drawer, or a closet, the opening of which has been to you
+like the opening again of a little grave? Ah! happy mother that you are,
+if it has not been so!
+
+Mrs. Bird slowly opened the drawer. There were little coats of many a
+form and pattern, 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 waggon, a top, a
+ball--memorials gathered with many a tear and many a heartbreak! She sat
+down by the drawer, and leaning her head on her hands over it, wept till
+the tears fell through her fingers into the drawer; then suddenly
+raising her head, she began, with nervous haste, selecting the plainest
+and most substantial articles, and gathering them into a bundle.
+
+"Mamma," said one of the boys, gently touching her arm, "are you going
+to give away those things?"
+
+"My dear boys," she said, softly and earnestly, "if our dear, loving,
+little Henry looks down from heaven, he would be glad to have us do
+this. I could not find it in my heart to give them away to any common
+person--to anybody that was happy; but I give them to a mother more
+heart-broken and sorrowful than I am; and I hope God will send his
+blessings with them!"
+
+Mr. Bird returned about twelve o'clock with the carriage. "Mary," said
+he, coming in with his overcoat in his hand, you must wake her up now.
+"We must be off." Soon arrayed in a cloak, bonnet, and shawl that had
+belonged to her benefactress, poor Eliza appeared at the door with her
+child in her arms. When she got seated in the carriage, she fixed her
+large dark eyes on Mrs. Bird's face, and seemed going to speak. Her lips
+moved, but there was no sound; pointing upward with a look never to be
+forgotten, she fell back in her seat and covered her face. The door was
+shut, and the carriage drove on.
+
+It was not long before they arrived at the place where Mr. Bird thought
+they would be safe from the cruel trader. It was a village about seven
+miles off, consisting of neat houses, with orchards and meadows about
+them.
+
+They all belonged to Quakers, a sect of Christians whom foolish people
+laugh at, because they think it right to wear broad-brimmed hats, and
+odd old-fashioned bonnets; but they do many good and charitable things,
+especially for the poor negroes, and one of them took Harry and his
+mother in.
+
+I cannot tell all the kindness the Quaker and his family did to them,
+giving Harry such good things, and watching lest the trader should come
+that way; but the greatest joy of all was, one evening, when a tall
+strong man, called Phineas Fletcher, who was a Quaker, and a great
+traveller, guided to the village Harry's poor father, George. His master
+was going to sell him too, and he had run away, and searched everywhere
+for his wife and child, to take them with him to Canada, which you know
+belongs to England. Oh what a happy meeting that was between George,
+Eliza, and little Harry.
+
+But they could not remain long with the kind Quakers. Their cruel
+pursuers had found out where they were hid, so they had all to set out
+again together. This time they were guided by the brave-hearted Phineas
+Fletcher, and hoped to reach Canada in safety. But their pursuers
+overtook them, and they had to run to the rocks to defend themselves, as
+the verses will tell.
+
+
+
+
+THE DEFENCE.
+
+
+          See Harry's poor father, with pistol in hand,
+          How bravely he takes on the steep rock his stand,
+          Over rivers, and forests, and towns he has passed,
+          And found his Eliza and Harry at last.
+
+          The kind Quaker folks that wear drab, brown, and gray,
+          To the wanderers gave shelter and bread on their way,
+          Their warm clothes were given them, their waggon was lent,
+          And the strong-armed Phineas along with them went.
+
+          Their hope was to journey to Canada's shore,
+          Where the trader or master could reach them no more;
+          For the English flag floats there, o'er land and o'er sea,
+          And they knew in its shadow the negro was free.
+
+          But far is their way through the slave-dealing land,
+          And now on their track comes the trader's fierce band;
+          So for refuge and rest to the rocks they have run,
+          And the father will fight for his wife and his son.
+
+          He fires on the first up the steep rock that springs,
+          But the trader comes on, shouting all wicked things,
+          Till Phineas right over the crag flings him clear,
+          Saying, "Friend, in my mind thou hast no business here."
+
+          Then off go the traders to find them more men,
+          And off go the friends in their waggon again;
+          But don't you wish well to the good man for life,
+          Who would fight for his freedom, his child, and his wife?
+
+[Illustration: THE DEFENCE.
+
+          But far is their way through the slave-dealing land,
+          And now on their track comes the trader's fierce band
+          So for refuge and rest to the rocks they have run,
+          And the father will fight for his wife and his son.]
+
+After this, George and Eliza, with their little Harry, journeyed on,
+never stopping, except at the house of another kind friend, to disguise
+themselves before going on board the steamboat, which at last brought
+them safe to Canada.
+
+
+
+
+ARRIVAL IN THE LAND OF FREEDOM.
+
+
+          Look on the travellers kneeling,
+            In thankful gladness, here,
+          As the boat that brought them o'er the lake,
+            Goes steaming from the pier.
+
+          'Tis Harry, like a girl disguised,
+            His mother, like a boy,
+          But the father kneels beside them,
+            And their hearts are full of joy.
+
+          No man can buy or sell them,
+            No trader chase them more,
+          The land of freedom has been gained,
+            The good Canadian shore.
+
+          And they are strangers on the soil,
+            As poor as poor can be,
+          But the English flag above them floats,
+            They know that they are free.
+
+George got employment in a factory, and as he was active and clever in
+his work, he soon earned enough to take a pretty little house, where
+they all lived together. Harry grew older, and went to school, where he
+was a good boy, and never forgot how God had preserved him from the
+wicked trader, and what his poor mother had suffered to bring him away.
+His father, George, though he worked all day, was learning too from all
+sorts of good books, which he used to read by the fire in the evenings.
+He was ever thinking of the poor heathen kings in Africa, and the
+negroes they sold for slaves. So at last, when he had learned a great
+deal, he determined to become a missionary; and, with his wife and
+family, he embarked for Africa, where he still labours, teaching the
+poor negroes the glad tidings of the gospel.
+
+
+WHO UNCLE TOM WAS.
+
+Now I must tell you something about Uncle Tom, from whom this book is
+named. He was a negro man, as black as jet, and a slave, belonging to
+Mr. Shelby, the rich man who at first owned Eliza and Harry. Mr. Shelby
+had a great estate, and many slaves to cultivate it, but they all loved
+and respected Tom, for he was a good Christian, and kind to everybody,
+on which account they used all to call him Uncle. Tom's master was kind
+to his slaves, and especially to Tom, because he was honest and careful
+with his property. Tom had a cabin or cottage hard by the rich man's
+house; it was built of logs cut from great trees; there was a garden in
+front, with beautiful flowers and strawberries in it; and climbing
+plants, so common in our country, twined along the walls. Tom had also a
+wife as black as himself; her name was Chloe, and she cooked for the
+Shelbys. You will remember how late she kept the trader's dinner when he
+wanted to pursue Eliza. They had two little sons, with very black faces
+and curly heads, and a little black baby just beginning to walk. Tom and
+his family were very happy in that cabin; the poor negroes used to
+gather there to hear Tom sing hymns and pray, for, as I said, he was a
+pious man, and the slaves had no other church to go to, for many people
+in America will not let negroes worship God with them. Mr. Shelby's son,
+a very clever boy, who had gained many prizes at school, liked Tom too,
+and used to come teach him to read and write in the evenings, and Tom
+had great hopes of being able to read the Bible at last. As Chloe was a
+cook she always contrived to have ready something very nice for Mr.
+George when he came to teach her goodman, and George would stand with
+one eye on Tom's copy, and another on the cake she prepared, while the
+boys and the baby played about them.
+
+[Illustration: ARRIVAL IN THE LAND OF FREEDOM.
+
+          No man can buy or sell them,
+            No trader chase them more,
+          The land of freedom has been gained,
+            The good Canadian shore.]
+
+But all those pleasant days came to an end. Mr. Shelby lost his money,
+and got in debt to a man who dealt in slaves; for that debt he sold
+little Harry to him, and the rest of it was paid with poor Tom. Think
+what sad news that was for the cabin!
+
+
+
+
+TOM AND HIS WIFE HAVE HEARD THAT HE IS SOLD.
+
+
+          The work of the winter day is o'er,
+          But Tom and his wife are weeping sore
+          Beside the hearth, where you can't forget
+          How the cakes were baked, and the copy set.
+
+          Oh, never again will Tom be taught!
+          From his master, by wicked trader bought;
+          And he will carry poor Tom next day,
+          From children, and wife, and home away.
+
+          His home--It was low of roof and wall,
+          But there had been room and love for all,
+          The peace that waits on contented days,
+          The voice of prayer and the hymn of praise.
+
+          And Tom himself, he is black of skin,
+          But, children, his soul is fair within,
+          His life is good and his heart is brave,
+          And yet they have sold him as a slave.
+
+[Illustration: TOM AND HIS WIFE HAVE HEARD THAT HE IS SOLD.
+
+          The fire-light shows on the lowly bed,
+          Each dusky face, and each curly head
+          Of his little children, sound asleep;
+          Oh well may their poor tired mother weep!]
+
+          The fire light shows on the lowly bed,
+          Each dusky face, and each curly head
+          Of his little children, sound asleep;
+          Oh well may their poor tired mother weep!
+
+          Now Tom is trying to soothe her woe:
+          "Dear Chloe 'tis best that I should go,
+          Our babes and you will live safely here,
+          And I may be far, but God is near."
+
+          "Yet think of me, love, when I am gone,
+          And the days of the pleasant spring come on.
+          Don't grieve, dear wife"--and his tears fell fast.
+          "You know we will meet in heaven at last."
+
+
+Tom might have fled away, as Eliza did with Harry, but he took pity on
+Mr. Shelby for being in debt to the trader, and also feared that if he
+fled, his wife and children would be sold to pay it. Poor Chloe wept
+sore, and so did the boys, and all the negroes on the estate were very
+sorry to part with him. George Shelby was from home when Tom was sold,
+and knew nothing about the matter. But he returned that very day, and
+the moment he learned that Tom was gone, he saddled his horse and rode
+after him. When he came up to the waggon he sprang into it, and throwing
+his arms round Tom's neck, began sobbing and scolding most violently.
+
+"I declare it's a shame! I don't care what they say, any of them. It's a
+nasty mean shame! If I was a man, they shouldn't do it," said George.
+
+"Oh, Mas'r George! this does me good!" said Tom. "I couldn't bear 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 eyes fell on the fetters.
+
+"What a shame!" he exclaimed, lifting his hands. "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 any word, and, if it hadn't
+been for Tom Lincoln, I shouldn't have heard it. I tell you, I blew them
+up well, all of them, at home."
+
+"That wasn't right, I'm feared, Mas'r George."
+
+"Can't help it! I say it's a shame! Look here, Uncle Tom," said he,
+turning his back to the rest of the party, and speaking in a mysterious
+tone, "_I've brought you my dollar!_"
+
+"Oh, I couldn't think o' takin' it, Mas'r George, no ways in the world,"
+said Tom, quite moved.
+
+"But you shall take it," said George. "Look here; I told Aunt Chloe I'd
+do it, and she advised me just to make a hole in it, and put 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 _me_ any good."
+
+"Well, I won't, for your sake," said George, busily tying his dollar
+round Tom's neck; "but there, now, button your coat tight over it, and
+keep it, and remember, every time you see it, that I'll come down after
+you, and bring you back. Aunt Chloe and I have been talking about it. I
+told her not to fear; I'll see to it, and I'll tease father's life out
+if he don't do it."
+
+"O, Mas'r George, ye mustn't talk so about your father! You must be a
+good boy; remember how many hearts is set on ye. Always keep close to
+yer mother. Don't be gettin' into them foolish ways boys has of gettin'
+too big to mind their mothers. Tell ye what, Mas'r George, the Lord
+gives good many things twice over; but he don't give ye a mother but
+once. Ye'll never see sich another woman, Mas'r George, 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'r George. Young boys, when they
+come to your age, is wilful, sometimes--it's natur they should be. But
+real gentlemen, such as I hopes you'll be, never lets fall no words that
+isn't respectful to thar parents. Ye an't offended, Mas'r George?"
+
+"No indeed, Uncle Tom; you always did give me good advice."
+
+"I's older, ye know," said Tom, stroking the boy's fine curly head with
+his large, strong hand, but speaking in a voice as tender as a
+woman's--"and I sees all that's bound up in you. O, Mas'r George, you
+has everything--larnin', 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 proud on ye! Be a good mas'r, like
+yer father; and be a Christian, like yer mother. Remember yer Creator in
+the days o' yer youth, Mas'r George. And now, Good-bye, Mas'r George,"
+said Tom, looking fondly and admiringly at him. "God Almighty bless
+you!" Away George went, and Tom looked, till the clatter of his horse's
+heels died away, the last sound or sight of his home.
+
+When the trader was disappointed in catching Harry, he put handcuffs on
+poor Tom to prevent his escape, and took him away in a waggon to a town,
+where he bought more slaves--children from their mothers, and husbands
+from their wives--some of them as black as Tom, and some nearly white,
+like Harry and his mother. Then he put them all on board of a steamboat
+going down the great river Mississippi. You will see on the map that it
+is one of the largest rivers in America. There are many towns on its
+banks, and steamboats go from one to another carrying goods and
+passengers; and the trader seeing that Tom was quiet and peaceable, took
+off the handcuffs, and allowed him to go about the steamboat helping the
+sailors, for Tom would help anybody. There were many people on board
+besides the negroes, and among them a rich gentleman called Mr. St.
+Clair. He was returning home from a visit to his relations, who lived in
+New England, and had with him his little daughter Eva, and his cousin
+Miss Feely. Eva had long yellow curls, and a fair, pretty face; better
+than that, she had the fear of God and the love of all goodness in her
+heart. Always cheerful, meek, and kindly, everybody loved Eva St. Clair,
+especially her father, for she was his only daughter. Tom saw her play
+about the steamboat, for they were days and nights on the voyage. Eva
+used to come close and look at him, when he sat thinking of Chloe and
+the children. The little one was shy, notwithstanding all her busy
+interest in everything going on, and it was not easy to tame her. But at
+last Tom and she got on quite confidential terms.
+
+"What's little missy's name?" said Tom at last, when he thought matters
+were ripe to push such an inquiry.
+
+"Evangeline St. Clair," said the little one, "though papa and everybody
+else call me Eva. Now, what's your name?"
+
+"My name's Tom; the little children used to call me Uncle Tom, away back
+thar in Kentucky."
+
+"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 am going to be sold to somebody. I don't know who."
+
+"My papa can buy you," said Eva, quickly; "and 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.
+
+The boat here stopped at a small landing to take in wood, and Eva,
+hearing her father's voice, bounded nimbly away. Tom rose up, and went
+forward to offer his service in wooding, and soon was busy among the
+hands.
+
+Eva and her father were standing together by the railings to see the
+boat start from the landing-place; the wheel had made two or three
+revolutions in the water, when, by some sudden movement, the little one
+suddenly lost her balance, and fell sheer over the side of the boat,
+into the water. Her father, scarce knowing what he did, was plunging in
+after her, but was held back by some behind him, who saw that more
+efficient aid had followed his child.
+
+Tom was standing just under her on the lower deck as she fell. He saw
+her strike the water and sink, and was after her in a moment. A
+broad-chested, strong-armed fellow, it was nothing for him to keep
+afloat in the water, till, in a moment or two, the child rose to the
+surface, and he caught her in his arms, and, swimming with her to the
+boat-side, handed her up, all dripping, to the grasp of hundreds of
+hands, which, as if they had all belonged to one man, were stretched
+eagerly out to receive her. A few moments more, and her father bore her,
+dripping and senseless, to the ladies' cabin, where she soon recovered.
+
+Her father was much rejoiced, and Eva took such a liking for Tom, that
+she would not rest till the rich Mr. St. Clair had bought him from the
+trader; and the girl hoped that she would one day get her father coaxed
+to set him free. From that day Tom and Eva were great friends. The
+steamer brought them safely to New Orleans. The trader took all his
+slaves away to sell them in that town; and Tom was taken to Mr. St.
+Clair's fine house, where you see him and Eva. You may also see the
+doings of little Topsy, a poor negro child, whom Mr. St. Clair bought,
+and made a present of to his cousin Miss Feely.
+
+
+
+
+EVA PUTTING A WREATH OF FLOWERS ROUND TOM'S NECK.
+
+
+          Poor Tom is far from his cottage now,
+          From his own good wife, and children three,
+          Where coffee, and rice, and cedars grow,
+          By a wide old river like the sea.
+
+          And he has a master rich and kind,
+          With all that his heart can well desire,
+          But homeward still goes the negro's mind,
+          To the curly heads by his cottage fire.
+
+          He the gentle Eva's life did save,
+          When over the great ship's side she fell,
+          And brought her up from the drowning wave,--
+          So Eva had grown to love him well.
+
+          She will read to Tom for hours on hours,
+          And sit with him on the grass all day;
+          You see she is wreathing pretty flowers,
+          About his neck, in her pleasant play.
+
+          Different in colour and in years
+          Are the negro man and that fair child's face;
+          But a likeness in God's sight appears,
+          For both are the children of his grace.
+
+[Illustration: EVA PUTTING A WREATH OF FLOWERS ROUND TOM'S NECK.
+
+          She will read to Tom for hours on hours,
+          And sit with him on the grass all day;
+          You see she is wreathing pretty flowers
+          About his neck, in her pleasant play.]
+
+
+
+
+TOPSY AT THE LOOKING GLASS.
+
+
+          See little Topsy at the glass quite gay,
+          Her mistress has forgot the keys to-day,
+          So she has rummaged every drawer, and dressed
+          Herself out in Miss Feely's very best.
+
+          Mark where she stands! the shawl of gorgeous red
+          Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head;
+          A finer shawl far trailing on the floor,
+          Just shews her bare black elbows, and no more.
+
+          With what an air she flaunts the ivory fan,
+          And tries to step as stately as she can,
+          Mincing fine words to her own shadow, "Dear!
+          How very ungenteel the folks are here!"
+
+          But while that shadow only Topsy sees,
+          Back comes the careful lady for her keys,
+          And finds her in the grandeur all arrayed--
+          Poor Topsy will be punished, I'm afraid.
+
+          Now it is wrong, as every reader knows,
+          To rummage people's drawers, and wear their clothes;
+          But Topsy is a negro child, you see,
+          Who never learned to read like you and me.
+
+          A child whom bad men from her mother sold,
+          Whom a harsh mistress used to cuff and scold,
+          Whom no one taught or cared for all her days,
+          No wonder that the girl had naughty ways.
+
+[Illustration: TOPSY AT THE LOOKING-GLASS.
+
+          Mark where she stands! the shawl of gorgeous red
+          Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head,
+          A finer shawl for trailing on the floor,
+          Just shows her bare black elbows, and no more.]
+
+          No home, no school, no Bible she had seen,
+          How bless'd besides poor Topsy we have been!
+          Yet boys and girls among ourselves, I've known
+          Puffed up with praise for merits not their own.
+
+          The copy by some clever school-mate penned,
+          The witty saying picked up from a friend,
+          Makes many a miss and master look as fine,
+          As if they coined the words or penned the line.
+
+          But none can keep such borrowed plumes as these,
+          For some one still comes back to find the keys,
+          And so they are found out, it comes to pass,
+          Just like poor Topsy at the looking-glass.
+
+
+
+
+TOPSY BRINGING FLOWERS TO EVA.
+
+
+          Poor Topsy, trying to be kind,
+          Has brought a bunch of garden flowers
+          To Eva, when she lies reclined
+          Through the bright summer's sultry hours.
+
+          For sickness hangs on Eva now,
+          She can no longer run or play,
+          Her cheek is pale, her voice is low,
+          And there she lies the livelong day.
+
+          Yet Eva does not fear to die,
+          She knows a better home remains
+          For her, beyond the great blue sky,
+          Where comes no sickness, tears, or pains.
+
+[Illustration: TOPSY BRINGING FLOWERS TO EVA.
+
+          "Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"
+          Says Eva in her gentle mood,
+          "She brought such pretty flowers to-day,
+          Indeed she's trying to be good."]
+
+          For in her happier days of health
+          She read and prized her Bible true,
+          Above this poor world's pride or wealth,
+          And loved her blessed Saviour too.
+
+          And she like him was kind to all,
+          And pity on poor Topsy had,
+          Because the rest would scold and call
+          Her names, for being black and bad.
+
+          So Eva strove to make her good,
+          And told her, of all tales the best,
+          How Christ came down to shed his blood,
+          That sinners might be saved and blest.
+
+          Poor Topsy tried to understand--
+          None ever taught her so before--
+          And brought the sweet flowers in her hand,--
+          The negro girl could do no more.
+
+          But Eva's proud mamma comes in
+          With scornful look and frown severe,
+          She cries, "begone, you nasty thing!
+          In all the world what brings you here?"
+
+          "Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"
+          Says Eva in her gentle mood,
+          "She brought such pretty flowers to-day,
+          Indeed she's trying to be good."
+
+          "I'm going fast, where there will be
+          No difference, but in sins forgiven,
+          And mother it might chance that we
+          Would bring poor Topsy flowers in heaven."
+
+[Illustration: DEATH OF EVA.
+
+          Oh, swift and sad were the tears that fell,
+            As her gifts among them passed,
+          And Tom, he got the first fair curl,
+            And Topsy got the last.]
+
+
+
+
+THE DEATH OF EVA.
+
+
+          There is peace on Eva's wasted brow,
+            And a soft light in her eye;
+          But her father's heart grows hopeless now,
+            For he knows that she must die.
+
+          Yet the thought is kind and the trust is true,
+            As she takes him by the hand,--
+          Dear father I will look for you
+            In the light of God's own land.
+
+          "Oh let them cut the long, long curls
+            That flow about my head,
+          And let our poor kind negroes come
+            For a moment round my bed.
+
+          "They have smoothed and stroked it many a day
+            In their kindly sport, and care,
+          And it may be they will think of me
+            When they see that curling hair."
+
+          The negroes loved her, young and old,
+            With a fond and deep regard,
+          For Eva's look was never sour,
+            And her words were never hard.
+
+          And her old nurse by the bedside stood,
+            Sore sobbing in her woe,
+          That so many sinners here should stay,
+            And the good and young should go.
+
+          "Dear nurse," said Eva, "I go home
+            To the happiest home of all;
+          Where never an evil thing will come,
+            And never a tear will fall.
+
+          "And I will hope each one to see,
+            That blessed home within;
+          Where Christ himself will set us free
+            From the bonds of death and sin."
+
+          Oh, swift and sad were the tears that fell,
+            As her gifts among them passed,
+          And Tom, he got the first fair curl,
+            And Topsy got the last.
+
+          But first and last alike were given,
+            With some words of love and prayer;
+          And it may be, hearts were helped to heaven,
+            By the links of that soft hair.
+
+When Eva was dead and buried, Tom missed her sore, but he knew it was
+the will of God, and tried to comfort his master. Mr. St. Clair intended
+to set him free for Eva's sake. He was a kind man, but given to delay,
+and one day a wicked man stabbed him in a coffee-house, when he was
+trying to settle a quarrel. Mrs. St. Clair was a proud, hard-hearted
+woman, who cared for nobody but herself. She sold all the negroes, and
+Tom among them, to a cruel cotton planter, called Legree, and you shall
+see how he behaved.
+
+
+
+
+LEGREE STRIKING TOM.
+
+
+          Tom's good wife Chloe, far at home,
+            And his boys so blythe and black,
+          Are all working hard, in hopes to win
+            The dollars, to buy him back.
+
+          And George, who taught him long ago,
+            Has many a pleasant plan,
+          To pay his price, and set him free.
+            When he comes to be a man.
+
+          But little does that wicked man,
+            In his angry madness, know,
+          That God himself will take account
+            Of each cruel word and blow.
+
+          And children dear, who see him here,
+            At night and morning pray,
+          That you may never have aught like this
+            Laid up for the judgment day!
+
+By the time all these things happened, George Shelby had grown up; but
+when he came to buy back Tom, the pious, kindly negro, had been so
+ill-treated by that cruel planter, because he tried to save the other
+slaves from his evil temper, that he lay dying in an old shed; and there
+was no law to punish the wicked planter, because Tom was black.
+
+When George entered the shed where Tom lay, he felt his head giddy and
+his heart sick.
+
+"Is it possible?" said he, kneeling down by him. "Uncle Tom, my poor,
+poor old friend!"
+
+Something in the voice penetrated to the ear of the dying. He smiled,
+and said--
+
+          "Jesus can make a dying bed
+           Feel soft as downy pillows are."
+
+Tears fell from the young man's eyes as he bent over his poor friend.
+
+"O, dear Uncle Tom! do wake--do speak once more! Look up. Here's Mas'r
+George--your own little Mas'r George. Don't you know me?"
+
+"Mas'r George!" said Tom, opening his eyes, and speaking in a feeble
+voice--"Mas'r George!" He looked bewildered.
+
+Slowly the idea seemed to fill his soul; and the vacant eye became fixed
+and brightened, the whole face lighted up, the hard hands clasped, and
+tears ran down the cheeks.
+
+"Bless the Lord' it is--it is--it's all I wanted! They haven't forgot
+me. It warms my soul; it does my old heart good! Now I shall die
+content! Bless the Lord, O my soul!"
+
+He began to draw his breath with long, deep aspirations; and his broad
+chest rose and fell heavily. The expression of his face was that of a
+conqueror.
+
+"Who--who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" he said, in a
+voice that contended with mortal weakness; and with a smile he fell
+asleep.
+
+Beyond the boundaries of the plantation George had noticed a dry, sandy
+knoll, shaded by a few trees; there they made a grave for poor Tom.
+
+"Shall we take off the cloak, mas'r?" said the negroes, when the grave
+was ready.
+
+"No, no; bury it with him. It's all I can give you now, poor Tom, and
+you shall have it."
+
+They laid him in; and the men shovelled away silently. They banked it
+up, and laid green turf over it.
+
+"You may go, boys," said George, slipping a quarter dollar into the hand
+of each. They lingered about, however.
+
+"If young mas'r would please buy us," said one.
+
+"We'd serve him so faithful!" said the other. "Do, mas'r, buy us,
+please!"
+
+"I can't--I can't," said George, with difficulty, motioning them off;
+"it's impossible!"
+
+The poor fellows looked dejected, and walked off in silence.
+
+"Witness, eternal God," said George, kneeling on the grave of his poor
+friend--"O, witness that, from this hour, I will do _what one man can_
+to drive out this curse of slavery from my land!"
+
+There is no monument to mark the last resting-place of poor Tom. He
+needs none. His Lord knows where he lies, and will raise him up
+immortal, to appear with Him when He shall appear in his glory.
+
+
+[Illustration: LEGREE STRIKING TOM.
+
+          But little does that wicked man,
+            In his angry madness, know,
+          That God himself will take account
+            Of each cruel word and blow.]
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE EVA SONG.
+
+UNCLE TOM'S GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+          WORDS BY JOHN G. WHITTIER . . . . MUSIC BY MANUEL EMILIO.
+
+[Illustration: Music]
+
+          Dry the tears for holy Eva!
+          With the blessed angels leave her;
+          Of the form so sweet and fair,
+          Give to earth the tender care.
+          For the golden locks of Eva,
+          Let the sunny south land give her
+          Flow'ry pillow of repose,
+          Orange bloom and budding rose,
+          Orange bloom and budding rose.
+
+          All is light and peace with Eva;
+          There the darkness cometh never;
+          Tears are wiped, and fetters fall,
+          And the Lord is all in all.
+          Weep no more for happy Eva;
+          Wrong and sin no more shall grieve her,
+          Care, and pain, and weariness,
+          Lost in love so measureless!
+
+          Gentle Eva, loving Eva,
+          Child confessor, true believer,
+          Listener at the Master's knee,
+          "Suffer such to come to me."
+          O for faith like thine, sweet Eva,
+          Lighting all the solemn river,
+          And the blessing of the poor,
+          Wafting to the heavenly shore.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's
+Cabin, by Unknown
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #28021 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28021)