Legree had several ways of keeping his servants in order—­“they were burned alive; scalded, cut into inch pieces; set up for the dogs to tear, or hung up and whipped to death.”  Now I am convinced that Mrs. Stowe must have a credulous mind; and was imposed upon.  She never could have conceived such things with all her talent; the very conception implies a refinement of cruelty.  She gives, however, a mysterious description of a certain “place way out down by the quarters, where you can see a black blasted tree, and the ground all covered with black ashes.”  It is afterward intimated that this was the scene of a negro burned alive.  Reader, you may depend, it was a mistake; that’s just the way a tree appears when it has been struck by lightning.  Next time you pass one, look at it.  I have not the slightest doubt that this was the way the mistake was made.  We have an occasional wag at the South, and some one has practised upon a soft-hearted New Englander in search of horrors; this is the result.  She mentions that the ashes were black.  Do not infer from this that it must have been a black man or negro.  But I will no longer arraign your good sense.  It was not, take my word for it, as Mrs. Stowe describes it, some poor negro “tied to a tree, with a slow fire lit under him.”

Tom tells Legree “he’d as soon die as not.”  Indeed, he proposes whipping, starving, burning; saying, “it will only send him sooner where he wants to go.”  Tom evidently considers himself as too good for this world; and after making these proposals to his master, he is asked, “How are you?” He answers:  “The Lord God has sent his angel, and shut the lion’s mouth.”  Anybody can see that he is laboring under a hallucination, and fancies himself Daniel.  Cassy, however, consoled him after the style of Job’s friends, by telling him that his master was going “to hang like a dog at his throat, sucking his blood, bleeding away his life drop by drop.”

In what an attitude, O Planters of the South, has Mrs. Stowe taken your likenesses!

Tom dies at last.  How could such a man die?  Oh! that he would live forever and convert all our Southern slaves.  He did not need any supporting grace on his deathbed.  Hear him—­“The Lord may help me, or not help, but I’ll hold on to him.”

I thought a Christian could not hold on to the Lord without help.  “Ye can of yourself do nothing.”  But Tom is an exception—­to the last he is perfect.  All Christians have been caught tripping sometimes, but Tom never is.  He is “bearing everybody’s burdens.”  He might run away, but he will not.  He says, “The Lord has given me a work among these yer poor souls, and I’ll stay with ’em, and bear my cross with ’em to the end.”  Christian reader, we must reflect.  We know where to go for one instance of human perfection, where the human and the Divine were united, but we know not of another.

Tom converts Cassy, a most infamous creature from her own accounts, and we are to sympathize with her vileness, for she has no other traits of character described.  Tom converts her, but I am sorry to see she steals money and goods, and fibs tremendously afterwards.  We hope the rest of his converts did him more credit.