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Show 120 UNCLE TOM'S CABIN: Oil, "Why, yes, my dear; that would bo aiding and abetting, you know." Mrs. Bird was a timid, blushing little woman, of about four feet in height, and with mild blue eyes, and a peach-blow complexion, and tho gentlest, sweetest voice in the world · - ns for courage, a moderate-sized cock-turkey had been kn~wn to put her to rout at the very first gobble, and a stout housedog, of moderate capacity, would bring her into subjection merely by a show of his teeth. ller husband and children were her entire world, and in these she ruled more by entreaty and persuasion than by command or argument. There was only one thing that was capable of arousing her, and that provocation came in on the side of her unusually gentle and syml'-..thetic nature;- anything in the shape of cruelty would throw her into a passion, which was the more alarming and inexplicable in proportion to the general softness of her nature. Generally the most indulgent and easy to be entreated of all mothers, still her boys had a very reverent remembrance of a most vehement chastisement she once bestowed on them, because she found them leagued with several graceless boys of the neighborhood, stoning a defenceless kitten. "I 'II tell you what," Master Bill used to say, "I was seared that time. Mother came at me so that I thought she wna crazy, and I was whipped and tumbled olf to bed, without any supper, before I could get over wondering what hw:l come about; and, after that, I heard mother crying outside the door, which made me feel worse than all the rest. I 'II tell you what,'' he 'd say, ''we boys never stoned another kitten! '' On the present occasion, Mrs. Bird rose quickly, with very red cheeks, which quite improved her general appearance, and walked up to her husband, with quite a resolute air, and said, in a determined tone, LU'E AMONG THE LOWLY. 121 "Now, John, I want to know if you think such a l::tw as that is right and Christian 1 '' "You won't shoot me, nmr, Thlory, if I sn.y I do! " "I never could have thought it of you, John; you didn't vote for it ?" "Even so, my fuir politician." "You ought to be as·hamcd,John! Poor, homeless, bouse~ less creatures! It's a shameful, wicked, abominable law, and I 'll break it, for one, the first time I get a chance; and I hope I s!tall have a chance, I do! ~'hings ha.vc got to a. pretty pass, if a woma.n can't give a warm supper and a bed to poor, starving creatures, just because they arc slaves, and have been abused and oppressed all their lives, poor things!" "But, ~iary, just listen to me. Your feelings arc all quite right, dear, and interesting, ::mel I love you for them; but, then, dear, we mustn't suflCr our feelings to run away with our judgment ; you must consider it 's not a matter of privntc feeling,- there arc great public interests involved,- there is such a state of public agitation rising, that we must put aside our privn.te feelings." "Now, John, I don't know anything about politics, but I can read my Bible; and there I soc that I must feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and comfort the desolate; and that Bible I mean to follow.'' "But in cases where your doing so would involve a great public evil -" " Obeying God never brings on public evils. I know it can't. It 's always safest, all round, to do as I-Ie bids us." "Now, listen to me, Mary, and I can stn.t.e to you n very clear argument, to show -" "0, nonsense, John! you can talk all night, but yon wouldn't do it. I put it to you, John, -would you now 11 |