Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe

by Harriet Beecher Stowe

  It was very difficult. Poor Uncle Tom found that he had quite forgotten how to make some of the letters. Of those he did remember, he was not quite sure which he ought to use. Yes, it was a very difficult thing indeed.

  While he was working away, breathing very hard over it, Eva came behind him, and peeped over his shoulder.

  ‘Oh, Uncle Tom! what funny things you are making there!’

  Eva put her little golden head close to Uncle Tom’s black one, and the two began a grave and anxious talk over the letter. They were both very earnest, and both very ignorant. But after a great deal of consulting over every word, the writing began, they really thought, to look quite like a proper letter.

  ‘Yes, Uncle Tom, it begins to look beautiful,’ said Eva, gazing on it with delight. ‘How pleased your wife will be, and the poor little children! Oh, it is a shame that you ever had to go away from them! I mean to ask papa to let you go back, some day.’

  ‘Missis said that she would send down money for me, as soon as they could get it together,’ said Tom. ‘Young Mas’r George, he said he’d come for me. He gave me this dollar as a sign,’ and Tom drew the precious dollar from under his coat.

  ‘Oh, he is sure to come, then,’ said Eva, ‘I am so glad.’

  ‘I wanted to send a letter, you see, to let ’em know where I was, and tell poor Chloe that I was well off, ‘cause she felt so dreadful, poor soul.’

  ‘I say, Tom,’ said Mr. St. Clare, coming in at the door at this minute.

  Tom and Eva both started.

  ‘What’s this?’ Mr. St. Clare went on, coming up and looking at the slate.

  ‘Oh, it’s Tom’s letter. I’m helping him to write it,’ said Eva. ‘Isn’t it nice?’

  ‘I wouldn’t discourage either of you,’ said her father; ‘but I rather think, Tom, you had better let me write your letter for you. I’ll do it when I come home from my ride.’

  ‘It is very important that he should write,’ said Eva, ‘because his mistress is going to send money to buy him back again, you know, papa. He told me they had said so.’

  Mr. St. Clare thought in his heart that very likely this meant nothing. He thought it was only one of these things which good-natured people said to their slaves to comfort them when they were taken away from their dear ones to be sold. He did not really believe Mrs. Shelby meant to buy Tom back again. However, he did not say so out loud, but just told Tom to get the horses ready for a ride.

  That evening the letter was written, and Uncle Tom carried it joyfully to the post-office.

  CHAPTER XII

  GEORGE FIGHTS FOR FREEDOM

  The day after George and Eliza met each other once more at the end of so many sad months of parting, was a very happy one in the Quaker house.

  The two had much to say to each other. George had to tell how he had escaped from his cruel master, and how he had followed Eliza all the way and at last found her. Then there were plans to make for going on towards Canada. It was arranged that they should start that night at ten o’clock. ‘The pursuers are hard after thee, we must not delay,’ said Simeon.

  Rachel was happy and busy, packing up food and clothes for them to take on the journey.

  Late in the afternoon another Quaker, called Phineas, came with the dreadful news that the wicked men, whom Haley had sent to catch Eliza, were only a few miles away.

  So George and Eliza decided to start as soon as it was dark. A little while after supper a large covered waggon drew up before the door. They got in and the waggon drove off.

  On and on, all through the dark night they drove. About three o’clock, George heard the click of a horse’s hoof coming behind them.

  ‘That’s Simeon,’ said Phineas, who was driving, as he pulled up the horses to listen.

  ‘Halloa, there, Simeon,’ he shouted, ‘what news? Are they coming?’

  ‘Yes, right on behind, eight or ten of them.’

  ‘Oh! what shall we do?’ groaned Eliza.

  But Phineas knew the road well. He lashed the horses till they flew along, the waggon rattling and jumping over the hard road behind them.

  On they went till they came to a place where the rocks rose straight up from the road like a wall. It seemed impossible for any one to climb up there. But Phineas knew a way.

  He stopped the horses. ‘Here, Simeon,’ he said, ‘take the waggon, and drive on as fast as thou canst, and bring back help. Now follow me,’ he said to the others, ‘quick, for your lives. Run now, if you you ever did run.’

  Quicker than we can say it, they were following him up a tiny narrow path to the top of the rocks, and Simeon was galloping the horses with the empty waggon along the road.

  ‘We are pretty safe here,’ said Phineas, when they had reached the top. ‘Only one person can come up that path at a time. If any one tries it, shoot him.’

  The men who were chasing them had now arrived at the foot of of the rocks. They were led by a big man called Tom Loker, and another mean-looking little man, whom Haley had sent.

  After some hunting about, they found the path, and, headed by Tom Loker, began to climb up.

  ‘Come up if you like,’ George called out, ‘but if you do we will shoot you.’

  For answer, the little man took aim at George, and fired.

  Eliza screamed, but the shot did not hurt him. It passed close to his hair, nearly touched her cheek, and, struck a tree behind.

  Tom Loker came on. George waited until he was near enough, then he fired. The shot hit him in the side. But, though wounded, he would not go back. With a yell like that of a mad bull he came leaping on, and sprang right in among them.

  Quakers are not allowed to use guns and pistols, so Phineas had been standing back while George shot. Now he sprang forward. As Tom Loker landed in the middle of them, he gave him a great push, saying, ‘Friend, thee isn’t wanted here.’

  Down fell Tom Loker, down, down the steep side of the rock. He crashed and crackled among trees, bushes, logs, loose stones, till he lay bruised and groaning far below. The fall might have killed him, had it not been broken by his clothes catching on the branches of a large tree.

  Cruel people are, very often, cowardly too. When the men saw their leader first wounded, and then thrown down, they all ran away.

  Mounting their horses, they rode off as fast as they could, leaving Tom Loker lying on the ground wounded and groaning with pain.

  As soon as Phineas and the others saw that the wicked men had really ridden away, they climbed down, meaning to walk along the road till they met Simeon.

  They had just reached the bottom, when they saw him coming back with the waggon and two other men.

  ‘Now we are safe,’ cried Phineas joyfully.

  ‘Well, do stop then,’ said Eliza, ‘and do something for that poor man. He is groaning dreadfully.’

  ‘It would be no more than Christian,’ said George. ‘Let us take him with us.’

  They lifted the wounded man gently, as if he had been a friend instead of a cruel enemy, and laid him in the waggon. Then they all set out once more.

  A drive of about an hour brought them to a neat farm-house. There the tired travellers were kindly received and given a good breakfast.

  Tom Loker was put into a comfortable bed, far cleaner and softer than any he had ever slept in before. George and Eliza walked about the garden hand-in-hand, feeling happy together, and almost safe. They were so near Canada now.

  CHAPTER XIII

  AUNT DINAH

  Miss Ophelia found that it was no easy matter to bring anything like order into the St. Clare household. The slaves had been left to themselves so long, and had grown so untidy, that they were not at all pleased with Miss Feely, as they called her, for trying to make them be tidy. However, she had quite made up her mind that order there must be. She got up at four o’clock in the morning, much to the surprise of the housemaids. All day long she was busy dusting and tidying, till Mrs. St. Clare said it made her tired to see cousin Ophelia so busy.

&nbs
p; CHAPTER XIV

  TOPSY

  One morning, while Miss Ophelia was busy, as usual, she heard Mr. St. Clare calling her from the foot of the stairs.

  ‘Come down here, cousin. I have something to show you.’

  ‘What is it?’ said Miss Ophelia, coming down with her sewing in her hand.

  ‘I have bought something for you. See here,’ he said, pulling forward a little negro girl of about eight or nine years old.

  She was quite black. Her round, shining eyes glittered like glass beads. Her wooly hair was plaited into little tails which stuck out in all directions. Her clothes were dirty and ragged. Miss Ophelia thought she had never seen such a dreadful little girl in all her life.

  ‘Cousin, what in the world have you brought that thing here for?’ she asked, in dismay.

  ‘For you to teach, to be sure, and train in the way she should go,’ said Mr. St. Clare, laughing. ‘Topsy,’ he went on, ‘this is your new mistress. See, now, that you behave yourself.’

  ‘Yes, mas’r,’ said Topsy gravely, but her eyes had a wicked twinkle in them.

  ‘You’re going to be good, Topsy, you understand?’ said Mr. St. Clare.

  ‘Oh yes, mas’r’ said Topsy again, meekly folding her hands, but with another twinkle in her eyes.

  ‘Now cousin, what is this for? Your house is full of these little plagues as it is. I get up in the morning and find one asleep behind the door; see one black head poking out from under the table; another lying on the mat. They tumble over the kitchen floor, so that a body can’t put their foot down without treading on them. What on earth did you want to bring this one for?’

  ‘For you to teach, didn’t I tell you?’

  ‘I don’t want her, I’m sure. I have more to do with them now than I want.’

  ‘Well the fact is, cousin,’ said Mr. St. Clare, drawing her aside, ‘she belonged to some people who were dreadfully cruel and beat her. I couldn’t bear to hear her screaming every day, so I bought her. I will give her to you. Do try and make something of her.’

  ‘Well, I’ll do what I can,’ said Miss Ophelia. ‘She is fearfully dirty, and half naked.’

  ‘Well, take her downstairs, and tell somebody to clean her up, and give her some decent clothes.’

  Getting Topsy clean was a very long business. But at last it was done.

  Then, sitting down before her, Miss Ophelia began to question her.

  ‘How old are you, Topsy?’

  ‘Dunno, missis,’ said she, grinning like an ugly little black doll.

  ‘Don’t know how old you are! Did nobody ever tell you? Who was your mother?’

  ‘Never had none,’ said Topsy, with another grin.

  ‘Never had any mother! What do you mean? Where were you born?’

  ‘Never was born.’

  ‘You mustn’t answer me like that, child,’ said Miss Ophelia sternly. ‘I am not playing with you. Tell me where you were born, and who your father and mother were.’

  ‘Never was born,’ said Topsy again very decidedly. ‘Never had no father, nor mother, nor nothin!’

  Miss Ophelia hardly knew what to make of her. ‘How long have you lived with your master and mistress, then?’ she asked.

  ‘Dunno, missis.’

  ‘Is it a year, or more, or less?’

  ‘Dunno, missis.’

  ‘Have you ever heard anything about God, Topsy?’ asked Miss Ophelia next.

  Topsy looked puzzled, but kept on grinning.

  ‘Do you know who made you?’

  ‘Nobody as I knows on,’ replied Topsy, with a laugh. ‘Spect I grow’d. Don’t think nobody ever made me.’

  ‘Do you know how to sew?’ asked Miss Ophelia, quite shocked.

  ‘No, missis.’

  ‘What can you do? What did you do for your master and mistress?’

  ‘Fetch water, and wash dishes, and clean knives, and wait on folks.’

  ‘Well, now, Topsy, I’m going to show you just how my bed is to be made. I am very particular about my bed. You must learn exactly how to do it.’

  ‘Yes, missis,’ said Topsy, with a deep sigh and a face of woeful earnestness.

  ‘Now, Topsy, look here. This is the hem of the sheet. This is the right side of the sheet. This is the wrong. Will you remember?’

  ‘Yes, missis,’ said Topsy with another sigh.

  ‘Well, now, the under-sheet you must bring over the bolster — so, and tuck it right down under the mattress nice and smooth — so. Do you see?’

  ‘Yes, missis.’

  ‘But the upper sheet,’ said Miss Ophelia, ‘must be brought down in this way, and tucked under, firm and smooth, at the foot — so, the narrow hem at the foot.’

  ‘Yes, missis,’ said Topsy as before. But while Miss Ophelia was bending over the bed she had quickly seized a pair of gloves and a ribbon, which were lying on the dressing-table, and slipped them up her sleeves. When Miss Ophelia looked up again, the naughty little girl was standing with meekly-folded hand as before.

  ‘Now, Topsy, let me see you do this,’ said Miss Ophelia, pulling the clothes off again and seating herself.

  Topsy, looking very earnest, did it all just as she had been shown. She did it so quickly and well that Miss Ophelia was very pleased. But, alas! as she was finishing, an end of ribbon came dangling out of her sleeve.

  ‘What is this?’ said Miss Ophelia, seizing it. ‘You naughty, wicked child — you have been stealing this.’

  The ribbon was pulled out of Topsy’s own sleeve. Yet she did not seem a bit ashamed. She only looked at it with an air of surprise and innocence.

  ‘Why, that’s Miss Feely’s ribbon, an’t it? How could it a got into my sleeve?’

  ‘Topsy, you naughty girl, don’t tell me a lie. You stole that ribbon,’

  ‘Missis, I declare I didn’t. Never seed it till dis blessed minnit.’

  ‘Topsy,’ said Miss Ophelia, ‘don’t you know it is wicked to tell lies?’

  ‘I never tells no lies, Miss Feely,’ said Topsy. ‘It’s jist the truth I’ve been, tellin’ now. It an’t nothin’ else.’

  ‘Topsy, I shall have to whip you, if you tell lies so.’

  ‘Laws, missis, if you whip’s all day, couldn’t say no other way,’ said Topsy, beginning to cry. ‘I never seed dat ribbon. It must a caught in my sleeve. Miss Feely must’a left it on the bed, and it got caught in the clothes, and so got in my sleeve.’

  Miss Ophelia was so angry at such a barefaced lie that she caught Topsy and shook her. ‘Don’t tell me that again,’ she said.

  The shake brought the gloves on the floor from the other sleeve.

  ‘There,’ said Miss Ophelia, ‘will you tell me now you didn’t steal the ribbon?’

  Topsy now confessed to stealing the gloves. But she, still said she had not taken the ribbon.

  ‘Now, Topsy’, said Miss Ophelia kindly, ‘if you will confess all about it I won’t whip you this time.’

  So Topsy confessed to having stolen both the ribbon and the gloves. She said she was very, very sorry, and would never do it again.

  ‘Well, now, tell me,’ said Miss Ophelia, ‘have you taken anything else since you have been in the house? If you confess I won’t whip you.’

  ‘Laws, missis, I took Miss Eva’s red thing she wears on her neck.’

  ‘You did, you naughty child! Well, what else?’

  ‘I took Rosa’s ear-rings — them red ones.’

  ‘Go and bring them to me this minute — both of them.’

  ‘Laws, missis, I can’t — they’s burnt up.’

  ‘Burnt up? What a story! Go and get them, or I shall whip you.’

  Topsy began to cry and groan, and declare that she could not. ‘They’s burnt up, they is.’

  ‘What did you burn them up for?’ asked Miss Ophelia.

  ‘Cause I’s wicked, I is. I’s mighty wicked, anyhow. I can’t help it.’

  Just at this minute Eva came into the room wearing her coral necklace.

  ‘Why, Eva,
where did you get your necklace?’ said Miss Ophelia.

  ‘Get it? Why, I have had it on all day,’ answered Eva, rather surprised. ‘And what is funny, aunty, I had it on all night too. I forgot to take it off when I went to bed.’

  Miss Ophelia looked perfectly astonished. She was more astonished still when, next minute, Rosa, who was one of the housemaids, came in with a basket of clean clothes, wearing her coral ear-rings as usual.

  I’m sure I don’t know what to do with such a child,’ she said, in despair. ‘What in the world made you tell me you took those things, Topsy?’

  ‘Why, missis said I must ‘fess. I couldn’t think of nothing else to ‘fess,’ said Topsy, wiping her eyes.

  ‘But of course, I didn’t want you to confess things you didn’t do,’ said Miss Ophelia. ‘That is telling a lie just as much as the other.’

  ‘Laws, now, is it?’ said Topsy, looking surprised and innocent.

  ‘Poor Topsy,’ said Eva, ‘why need you steal? You are going to be taken good care of now. I am sure I would rather give you anything of mine than have you steal it.’

  Topsy had never been spoken to so kindly and gently in all her life. For a minute she looked as if she were going to cry. The next she was grinning as usual in her ugly way.

  What was to be done with Topsy? Miss Ophelia was quite puzzled. She shut her up in a dark room till she could think about it.

  ‘I don’t see,’ she said to Mr. St. Clare, ‘how I am going to manage that child without whipping her.’

  ‘Well, whip her, then.’

  ‘I never heard of bringing up children without it,’ said Miss Ophelia.

  ‘Oh, well, do as you think best. Only, I have seen this child beaten with a poker, knocked down with the shovel or tongs, or anything that came handy. So I don’t think your beatings will have much effect.’

  ‘What is to be done with her, then?’ said Miss Ophelia. ‘I never saw such a child as this.’

  But Mr. St. Clare could not answer her question. So Miss Ophelia had to go on, as best she could, trying to make Topsy a good girl.

  She taught her to read and to sew. Topsy liked reading, and learned her letters like magic. But she could not bear sewing. So she broke her needles or threw them away. She tangled, broke, and dirtied her cotton and hid her reels. Miss Ophelia felt sure all these things could not be accidents. Yet she could never catch Topsy doing them.