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+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin, by Unknown.
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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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+</body>
+</html>
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