“O, Mas’r George, ye’re too late.  The Lord’s bought me, and is going to take me home,—­and I long to go.  Heaven is better than Kintuck.”

“O, don’t die!  It’ll kill me!—­it’ll break my heart to think what you’ve suffered,—­and lying in this old shed, here!  Poor, poor fellow!”

“Don’t call me poor fellow!” said Tom, solemnly, “I have been poor fellow; but that’s all past and gone, now.  I’m right in the door, going into glory!  O, Mas’r George! Heaven has come! I’ve got the victory!—­the Lord Jesus has given it to me!  Glory be to His name!”

George was awe-struck at the force, the vehemence, the power, with which these broken sentences were uttered.  He sat gazing in silence.

Tom grasped his hand, and continued,—­“Ye mustn’t, now, tell Chloe, poor soul! how ye found me;—­’t would be so drefful to her.  Only tell her ye found me going into glory; and that I couldn’t stay for no one.  And tell her the Lord’s stood by me everywhere and al’ays, and made everything light and easy.  And oh, the poor chil’en, and the baby;—­my old heart’s been most broke for ’em, time and agin!  Tell ’em all to follow me—­follow me!  Give my love to Mas’r, and dear good Missis, and everybody in the place!  Ye don’t know!  ’Pears like I loves ’em all!  I loves every creature everywhar!—­it’s nothing but love!  O, Mas’r George! what a thing ’t is to be a Christian!”

At this moment, Legree sauntered up to the door of the shed, looked in, with a dogged air of affected carelessness, and turned away.

“The old satan!” said George, in his indignation.  “It’s a comfort to think the devil will pay him for this, some of these days!”

“O, don’t!—­oh, ye mustn’t!” said Tom, grasping his hand; “he’s a poor mis’able critter! it’s awful to think on ’t!  Oh, if he only could repent, the Lord would forgive him now; but I’m ’feared he never will!”

“I hope he won’t!” said George; “I never want to see him in heaven!”

“Hush, Mas’r George!—­it worries me!  Don’t feel so!  He an’t done me no real harm,—­only opened the gate of the kingdom for me; that’s all!”

At this moment, the sudden flush of strength which the joy of meeting his young master had infused into the dying man gave way.  A sudden sinking fell upon him; he closed his eyes; and that mysterious and sublime change passed over his face, that told the approach of other worlds.

He began to draw his breath with long, deep inspirations; and his broad chest rose and fell, heavily.  The expression of his face was that of a conqueror.

“Who,—­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.

George sat fixed with solemn awe.  It seemed to him that the place was holy; and, as he closed the lifeless eyes, and rose up from the dead, only one thought possessed him,—­that expressed by his simple old friend,—­“What a thing it is to be a Christian!”