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Show 240 UNCJ.I~ TQ,\l'S CAUI:Y: OR, CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE ' ' ICTOitY. "Thnnks be unlo God, who giveth us the ''ictory." !lAVE not many of us, in tho weary wn.y of life, felt, in some hours, how far easier it were to die than to li\'C 1 'l1)lC martyr, when faced even by a. death of bodily anguish and horror, finds in tho very terror of his doom a. strong slim. ulant and tonic. rl1hcrc is a vivid excitement, a. thrill and fervor, which may carry through any crisis of suffering tltat is tho birth-hour of eternal glory and rest. But to Jive,- to wear on, day after day, of mean, bitter, low, harass ing scnitudc, every nerve dampened and depressed, every power of feeling gradually smothered,- tltis long and wasting hcart-martyrdont , thi s slow, daily Llccding away of the inward life, drop by drop, hour after hour,- this is tho true sea rching test of what there may be in man or woman. 'Vhen Tom stood fi1ce to £we with his persecutor, and heard his threats, :tncl thought in his very soul th a.t his hour was como, his heart swelled bravely in him, and he thought ho could bear torture and fire, bear anything, with tho vision of Jesus and heaven but just a step beyond; but, when he wns gone, and the present excitement pnsscd oft~ came back tho pain of his bruised and weary limbs,- came back the sense of his utterly degraded, hopeless, forlorn estate; and tl10 day passed wearily enough. Long before his wounds were healed, Legree insisted that he should bo put to tho regular field-work; ond then came LIFE AMONG TilE LOWLY. day after day of pain and weariness, aggravated by every kind of injustice and indignity that the ill-will of a mean and malicious mind could devise. 'Yhocver, in our circumstances, has made trial of pain, even with aU the alleviations which, for us, usually attend it, must know the irritation that comes with it. Tom no longer wondered n.t the habitual surliness of his associates i nay, he found the placid, sunny temper, which had been tho habitude of his lifo, broken in on, and sorely strained, by the inroads of tho same thing. Ho had flattered himself on leisure to read his Bible; but there was no such thing as leisure there. In the height of the season, Legree did not hesitate to press all his hands through, Sundays and week-days alike. Why shouldn't he?- he made more cotton by it, and gained his wager; and if it wore out a few more hands, he could buy better ones. At first, Tom used to read a verse or two of his Bible, by the flicker of the fire, after he had returned from his daily toil; but, after the cruel treatment he received, he used to come homo so exhausted that his head swam and his eyes failed when he tried to r~ad ; and he was fain to stretch himself down, with tho others, in utter exhaustion. Is it strange that the religious peace and trust, which had upborno him hitherto, should give way to toss ings of soul and despondent darkness? Tho gloomiest problem of this mysterious life was consL'lntly before his eyes,- souls crushed and ruined, evil triumphant, and God silent. It was weeks and months that Tom wrestled, in his own soul, in darkness and sorrow. He thought of Miss Ophelia's letter to his Kentucky fri ends, and would pray earnestly that God would send him deliverance. And then he would watch, day after day, in the vague hope of seeing somebody sent to redeem him; and, when nobody came, he would crush book to his soul bitter VOL. II. 21 |