Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Or, Life among the Lowly - Harriet Beecher Stowe - ebook

Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Or, Life among the Lowly ebook

Harriet Beecher Stowe

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Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Or, Life among the Lowly” is an anti-slavery novel by American author Harriet Beecher Stowe. Eliza, a slave who has a young child, pleads with Tom, another slave, to escape with her. Tom does not leave, but Eliza flees with her child. After getting some help to escape the slave traders who are looking for her, she then must try to cross the icy Ohio River if she wants to be free. Meanwhile, Tom is sold from one master to another, and his fortunes vary widely

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Contents

VOLUME I

CHAPTER I. In Which the Reader Is Introduced to a Man of Humanity

CHAPTER II. The Mother

CHAPTER III. The Husband and Father

CHAPTER IV. An Evening in Uncle Tom’s Cabin

CHAPTER V. Showing the Feelings of Living Property on Changing Owners

CHAPTER VI. Discovery

CHAPTER VII. The Mother’s Struggle

CHAPTER VIII. Eliza’s Escape

CHAPTER IX. In Which It Appears That a Senator Is But a Man

CHAPTER X. The Property Is Carried Off

CHAPTER XI. In Which Property Gets into an Improper State of Mind

CHAPTER XII. Select Incident of Lawful Trade

CHAPTER XIII. The Quaker Settlement

CHAPTER XIV. Evangeline

CHAPTER XV. Of Tom’s New Master, and Various Other Matters

CHAPTER XVI. Tom’s Mistress and Her Opinions

CHAPTER XVII. The Freeman’s Defence

CHAPTER XVIII. Miss Ophelia’s Experiences and Opinions

VOLUME II

CHAPTER XIX. Miss Ophelia’s Experiences and Opinions Continued

CHAPTER XX. Topsy

CHAPTER XXI. Kentuck

CHAPTER XXII. “The Grass Withereth—the Flower Fadeth”

CHAPTER XXIII. Henrique

CHAPTER XXIV. Foreshadowings

CHAPTER XXV. The Little Evangelist

CHAPTER XXVI. Death

CHAPTER XXVII. “This Is the Last of Earth” *

CHAPTER XXVIII. Reunion

CHAPTER XXIX. The Unprotected

CHAPTER XXX. The Slave Warehouse

CHAPTER XXXI. The Middle Passage

CHAPTER XXXII. Dark Places

CHAPTER XXXIII. Cassy

CHAPTER XXXIV. The Quadroon’s Story

CHAPTER XXXV. The Tokens

CHAPTER XXXVI. Emmeline and Cassy

CHAPTER XXXVII. Liberty

CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Victory

CHAPTER XXXIX. The Stratagem

CHAPTER XL. The Martyr

CHAPTER XLI. The Young Master

CHAPTER XLII. An Authentic Ghost Story

CHAPTER XLIII. Results

CHAPTER XLIV. The Liberator

CHAPTER XLV. Concluding Remarks

VOLUME I

CHAPTER I

In Which the Reader Is Introduced to a Man of Humanity

Late in the afternoon of a chilly day in February, two gentlemen were sitting alone over their wine, in a well-furnished dining parlor, in the town of P–, in Kentucky. There were no servants present, and the gentlemen, with chairs closely approaching, seemed to be discussing some subject with great earnestness.

For convenience sake, we have said, hitherto, two gentlemen. One of the parties, however, when critically examined, did not seem, strictly speaking, to come under the species. He was a short, thick-set man, with coarse, commonplace features, and that swaggering air of pretension which marks a low man who is trying to elbow his way upward in the world. He was much over-dressed, in a gaudy vest of many colors, a blue neckerchief, bedropped gayly with yellow spots, and arranged with a flaunting tie, quite in keeping with the general air of the man. His hands, large and coarse, were plentifully bedecked with rings; and he wore a heavy gold watch-chain, with a bundle of seals of portentous size, and a great variety of colors, attached to it,–which, in the ardor of conversation, he was in the habit of flourishing and jingling with evident satisfaction. His conversation was in free and easy defiance of Murray’s Grammar,* and was garnished at convenient intervals with various profane expressions, which not even the desire to be graphic in our account shall induce us to transcribe.

* English Grammar (1795), by Lindley Murray (1745-1826), the most authoritative American grammarian of his day.

His companion, Mr. Shelby, had the appearance of a gentleman; and the arrangements of the house, and the general air of the housekeeping, indicated easy, and even opulent circumstances. As we before stated, the two were in the midst of an earnest conversation.

“That is the way I should arrange the matter,” said Mr. Shelby.

“I can’t make trade that way–I positively can’t, Mr. Shelby,” said the other, holding up a glass of wine between his eye and the light.

“Why, the fact is, Haley, Tom is an uncommon fellow; he is certainly worth that sum anywhere,–steady, honest, capable, manages my whole farm like a clock.”

“You mean honest, as niggers go,” said Haley, helping himself to a glass of brandy.

“No; I mean, really, Tom is a good, steady, sensible, pious fellow. He got religion at a camp-meeting, four years ago; and I believe he really did get it. I’ve trusted him, since then, with everything I have,–money, house, horses,–and let him come and go round the country; and I always found him true and square in everything.”

“Some folks don’t believe there is pious niggers Shelby,” said Haley, with a candid flourish of his hand, “but I do. I had a fellow, now, in this yer last lot I took to Orleans–”t was as good as a meetin, now, really, to hear that critter pray; and he was quite gentle and quiet like. He fetched me a good sum, too, for I bought him cheap of a man that was ‘bliged to sell out; so I realized six hundred on him. Yes, I consider religion a valeyable thing in a nigger, when it’s the genuine article, and no mistake.”

“Well, Tom’s got the real article, if ever a fellow had,” rejoined the other. “Why, last fall, I let him go to Cincinnati alone, to do business for me, and bring home five hundred dollars. “Tom,’ says I to him, “I trust you, because I think you’re a Christian–I know you wouldn’t cheat.’ Tom comes back, sure enough; I knew he would. Some low fellows, they say, said to him–Tom, why don’t you make tracks for Canada?’ ‘Ah, master trusted me, and I couldn’t,’–they told me about it. I am sorry to part with Tom, I must say. You ought to let him cover the whole balance of the debt; and you would, Haley, if you had any conscience.”

“Well, I’ve got just as much conscience as any man in business can afford to keep,–just a little, you know, to swear by, as ‘t were,” said the trader, jocularly; “and, then, I’m ready to do anything in reason to ‘blige friends; but this yer, you see, is a leetle too hard on a fellow–a leetle too hard.” The trader sighed contemplatively, and poured out some more brandy.

“Well, then, Haley, how will you trade?” said Mr. Shelby, after an uneasy interval of silence.

“Well, haven’t you a boy or gal that you could throw in with Tom?”

“Hum!–none that I could well spare; to tell the truth, it’s only hard necessity makes me willing to sell at all. I don’t like parting with any of my hands, that’s a fact.”

Here the door opened, and a small quadroon boy, between four and five years of age, entered the room. There was something in his appearance remarkably beautiful and engaging. His black hair, fine as floss silk, hung in glossy curls about his round, dimpled face, while a pair of large dark eyes, full of fire and softness, looked out from beneath the rich, long lashes, as he peered curiously into the apartment. A gay robe of scarlet and yellow plaid, carefully made and neatly fitted, set off to advantage the dark and rich style of his beauty; and a certain comic air of assurance, blended with bashfulness, showed that he had been not unused to being petted and noticed by his master.

“Hulloa, Jim Crow!” said Mr. Shelby, whistling, and snapping a bunch of raisins towards him, “pick that up, now!”

The child scampered, with all his little strength, after the prize, while his master laughed.

“Come here, Jim Crow,” said he. The child came up, and the master patted the curly head, and chucked him under the chin.

“Now, Jim, show this gentleman how you can dance and sing.” The boy commenced one of those wild, grotesque songs common among the negroes, in a rich, clear voice, accompanying his singing with many comic evolutions of the hands, feet, and whole body, all in perfect time to the music.

“Bravo!” said Haley, throwing him a quarter of an orange.

“Now, Jim, walk like old Uncle Cudjoe, when he has the rheumatism,” said his master.

Instantly the flexible limbs of the child assumed the appearance of deformity and distortion, as, with his back humped up, and his master’s stick in his hand, he hobbled about the room, his childish face drawn into a doleful pucker, and spitting from right to left, in imitation of an old man.

Both gentlemen laughed uproariously.

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