Uncle Tom's Cabin eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 704 pages of information about Uncle Tom's Cabin.

Uncle Tom's Cabin eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 704 pages of information about Uncle Tom's Cabin.

“Wal, any way, thar’s wrong about it somewhar,” said Aunt Chloe, in whom a stubborn sense of justice was a predominant trait; “I can’t jest make out whar ‘t is, but thar’s wrong somewhar, I’m clar o’ that.”

“Yer ought ter look up to the Lord above—­he’s above all—­thar don’t a sparrow fall without him.”

“It don’t seem to comfort me, but I spect it orter,” said Aunt Chloe.  “But dar’s no use talkin’; I’ll jes wet up de corn-cake, and get ye one good breakfast, ’cause nobody knows when you’ll get another.”

In order to appreciate the sufferings of the negroes sold south, it must be remembered that all the instinctive affections of that race are peculiarly strong.  Their local attachments are very abiding.  They are not naturally daring and enterprising, but home-loving and affectionate.  Add to this all the terrors with which ignorance invests the unknown, and add to this, again, that selling to the south is set before the negro from childhood as the last severity of punishment.  The threat that terrifies more than whipping or torture of any kind is the threat of being sent down river.  We have ourselves heard this feeling expressed by them, and seen the unaffected horror with which they will sit in their gossipping hours, and tell frightful stories of that “down river,” which to them is

     "That undiscovered country, from whose bourn
     No traveller returns."
*

     * A slightly inaccurate quotation from Hamlet, Act III,
     scene I, lines 369-370.

A missionary figure among the fugitives in Canada told us that many of the fugitives confessed themselves to have escaped from comparatively kind masters, and that they were induced to brave the perils of escape, in almost every case, by the desperate horror with which they regarded being sold south,—­a doom which was hanging either over themselves or their husbands, their wives or children.  This nerves the African, naturally patient, timid and unenterprising, with heroic courage, and leads him to suffer hunger, cold, pain, the perils of the wilderness, and the more dread penalties of recapture.

The simple morning meal now smoked on the table, for Mrs. Shelby had excused Aunt Chloe’s attendance at the great house that morning.  The poor soul had expended all her little energies on this farewell feast,—­had killed and dressed her choicest chicken, and prepared her corn-cake with scrupulous exactness, just to her husband’s taste, and brought out certain mysterious jars on the mantel-piece, some preserves that were never produced except on extreme occasions.

“Lor, Pete,” said Mose, triumphantly, “han’t we got a buster of a breakfast!” at the same time catching at a fragment of the chicken.

Aunt Chloe gave him a sudden box on the ear.  “Thar now! crowing over the last breakfast yer poor daddy’s gwine to have to home!”

“O, Chloe!” said Tom, gently.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Uncle Tom's Cabin from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.