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Show 142 UNCLE TOM'S CABIN: OH1 and ought ter gin 't to ycr years ago. 1\icbbc he can't help himself now, but I feel it's wrong. Nothing can't beat that ar out o' me. Sich a fi:titbful crittur as yo 'vc been,- and allcrs sot his business 'fore ycr own every way,- and reckoned on him more than yer own wife and chil'cn! Them as sells heart's love and heart's blood, to got out thar scrapes, de Lord 'II be up to 'em! " "Chloe! now, if yo love me, yo won't talk so, when perhaps jest the last time we ' II ever have together! And I 'II tell yo, Chloe, it goes agin me to hear one word agin ]\fas'r. Wan'thc put in my arms a baby1--it's naturl should think a heap of him. And he couldn't be spcctcd to think so much of poor ~rom. l\1as'rs is used to havin' all these ycr things done for 'em, and naflly they don't think so much on 't. They can't be spected to, no way. Set him 'longside of other :Mas'rs -who's had the treatment and tho livin' I've had 1 And he never would have let this yer come on me, if he could have seed it aforehand. I know he wouldn't." "'Val, any w::ty, thar 's wrong about it somewltar," said Aunt Chloe, in whom a stubborn sense of justice was a predominant trait; " I can't jest make out whar 'tis, but thar's wrong somcwhar, I'm cZar o' that." "Ycr ought ter look up to the Lord abeve- he's abevo all-thar don't a sp.."lt-row fall without him." "It don't seem to comfort me, but I spcct it orter," said Aunt Chloe. "But dar's no usc talkin'; I 'II jes wet up de corn-cake, and get yc one good brcak£'8t, 'cause nobody knows when you '11 get another." In order to appreciate the sufferings of tho negroes sold south, it must be remembered that all the instinctive affections of that race aro peculiarly strong. Their local at~1ch- LIFE AMONG TilE LOWI,Y. 143 menta arc very abicling. They arc not naturally daring and enterprising, but home-loving and n.lfcctionatc. .Add to this aU the terrors with which ignorance im'ests the unknown, and add to this, again, that selling to the south is set before the negro from childhood as the last severity of punishment. The threat that terrifies more than whipping or torture of any kind is the threat of being sent down river. We have omsclves heard this feeling expressed by them, and seen the unaffected horror with which thoy will sit in their gossipping hours, and toH frightful stories of that "down river," which to them is "Thnt undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns." A missionary among the fugitives in Canada told us that many of the fugitives confessed themselves to have escaped from comparatively kind masters, and that they were induced to brave the perils of escape, in almost every case, by the desperate horror with which they regarded being sold south, -a doom which was hanging either over themselves or their husbands, their wives or children. This nerves the African, naturally patient, timid and unenterprising, with heroic courage, and leads him to suffer hunger, cold, pain, .the perils of the wilderness, and the more dread penalties of rc-ca.pturc. The simple morning meal now smoked on the table for Mrs. Shelby had excused Aunt Chloe's attondancc a: tho great house that morning. The poor soul had expended all her little energies on this farewell feast,- had killed and dressed her choicest chicken, and prepared her corn-cake with scrupulous exactness, just to her husband's taste and brought out certain mysterious jars on the mantel-~iecc, |