Kitabı oku: «Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin», sayfa 4
ARRIVAL IN THE LAND OF FREEDOM
Look on the travellers kneeling,
In thankful gladness, here,
As the boat that brought them o'er the lake,
Goes steaming from the pier.
'Tis Harry, like a girl disguised,
His mother, like a boy,
But the father kneels beside them,
And their hearts are full of joy.
No man can buy or sell them,
No trader chase them more,
The land of freedom has been gained,
The good Canadian shore.
And they are strangers on the soil,
As poor as poor can be,
But the English flag above them floats,
They know that they are free.
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.
WHO UNCLE TOM WAS
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 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 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.
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!
TOM AND HIS WIFE HAVE HEARD THAT HE IS SOLD
The work of the winter day is o'er,
But Tom and his wife are weeping sore
Beside the hearth, where you can't forget
How the cakes were baked, and the copy set.
Oh, never again will Tom be taught!
From his master, by wicked trader bought;
And he will carry poor Tom next day,
From children, and wife, and home away.
His home – It was low of roof and wall,
But there had been room and love for all,
The peace that waits on contented days,
The voice of prayer and the hymn of praise.
And Tom himself, he is black of skin,
But, children, his soul is fair within,
His life is good and his heart is brave,
And yet they have sold him as a slave.
The fire light shows on the lowly bed,
Each dusky face, and each curly head
Of his little children, sound asleep;
Oh well may their poor tired mother weep!
Now Tom is trying to soothe her woe:
"Dear Chloe 'tis best that I should go,
Our babes and you will live safely here,
And I may be far, but God is near."
"Yet think of me, love, when I am gone,
And the days of the pleasant spring come on.
Don't grieve, dear wife" – and his tears fell fast.
"You know we will meet in heaven at last."
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.
"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.
"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.
"What a shame!" he exclaimed, lifting his hands. "I'll knock that old fellow down – I will!"
"No, you won't, Mas'r George; and you must not talk so loud. It won't help me any, to anger him."
"Well, I won't, then, for your sake; but only to think of it – 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."
"That wasn't right, I'm feared, Mas'r George."
"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've brought you my dollar!"
"Oh, I couldn't think o' takin' it, Mas'r George, no ways in the world," said Tom, quite moved.
"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."
"No, don't, Mas'r George, for it won't do me any good."
"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."
"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 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 – you will, now, won't ye?"
"Yes, I will, Uncle Tom," said George, seriously.
"And be careful of yer speaking, Mas'r George. Young boys, when they come to your age, is wilful, sometimes – 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?"
"No indeed, Uncle Tom; you always did give me good advice."
"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 – "and I sees all that's bound up in you. O, Mas'r George, you has everything – larnin', privileges, readin', writin' – 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.
