232

OPHELIA SPEAKS FOR UNCLE TOM

thought of distant wife and children, rose up before his patient soul. as to the mariner shipwrecked almost in port rises the vision of the church-spire and loving roofs of his native village, seen over the top of some black wave only for one last farewell. He drew his arms tightly over his bosom, and choked back the bitter tears, and tried to pray. The poor old soul had such a singular, unaccountable prejudice in favour of liberty, that it was a hard wrench for him; and the more he said "Thy will be done," the worse he felt.

He sought Miss Ophelia, who, ever since Eva's death, had treated him with marked and respectful kindness.

"Miss Feely," he said, "Mas'r St. Clare promised me my freedom. He told me that he had begun to take it out for me; and now, perhaps, if Miss Feely would be good enough to speak about it to missis, she would feel like goin' on with it, as it was Mas'r St. Clare's wish."

"I'll speak for you, Tom, and do my best," said Miss Ophelia; "but if it depends on Mrs. St. Clare, I can't hope much for vou: nevertheless, I will try."

This incident occurred a few days after that of Rosa, while Miss Ophelia was busied in preparations to return north.

Seriously reflecting within herself, she considered that perhaps she had shown too hasty a warmth of language in her former interview with Marie; and she resolved that she would now endeavour to moderate her zeal, and to be as conciliatory as possible. So the good soul gathered nerself up, and, taking her knitting, resolved to go into Marie's room, de as agreeable as possible, and negotiate Tom's case with all the diplomatic skill of which she was mistress.

She found Marie reclining at length upon a lounge, supporting herself on one elbow by pillows, while Jane, who had been out shopping, was displaying before her certain samples of thin black stuffs.

"That will do," said Marie, selecting one; "only I'm not sure about its being properly mourning."

"Laws, missis," said Jane, volubly, "Mrs. General Derbennon wore just this very thing after the General died, last summer; it makes up lovely!"

"What do you think?" said Marie to Miss Ophelia.

"It's a matter of custom, I suppose," said Miss Ophelia.

judge about it better than I."

"You can

"The fact is," said Marie, "that I haven't a dress in the world that I can wear; and, as I am going to break up the establishment and go off next week, I must decide upon something."

"Are you going so soon ?"

"Yes. St. Clare's brother has written, and he and the lawyer think that the servants and furniture had better be put up at auction, and the place left with our lawyer."

"There's one thing

wanted to speak with you about," said Miss Ophelia. “Augustine promised Tom his liberty, and began the legal forms necessary to it. I hope you will use your influence to have it perfected."

66

Indeed, I shall do no such thing!" said Marie, sharply.

"Tom is

one of the most valuable servants on the place; it couldn't be afforded any way. Besides, what does he want of liberty? He's a great deal better off as he is."

MRS ST CLARES DETERMINATION.

233

"But ne does desire it very earnestly, and his master promised it,” said Miss Ophelia.

"I dare say he does want it," said Marie; "they all want it, just because they are a discontented set, always wanting what they haven't got. Now I'm principled against emancipating in any case. Keep a negro under the care of a master, and he does well enough and is respectable; but set them free, and they get lazy and won't work, and take to drinking, and go all down to be mean, worthless fellows. I've seen it tried hundreds of times. It's no favour to set them free."

"But Tom is so steady, industrious, and pious."

"Oh, you needn't tell me! I've seen a hundred like him. He'll do very well as long as he's taken care of, that's all."

"But then, consider," said Miss Ophelia, "when you set him up for sale, the chances of his getting a bad master." "Oh, that's all humbug!" said Marie. "It isn't one time in a hundred that a good fellow gets a bad master; most masters are good, for all the talk that is made. I've lived and grown up here in the South, and I never yet was acquainted with a master that didn't treat his servants well, quite as well as is worth while. I don't feel any fears on that head."

"Well," said Miss Ophelia, energetically, "I know it was one of the last wishes of your husband that Tom should have his liberty; it was one of the promises that he made to dear little Eva on her death-bed, and I should not think you would feel at liberty to disregard it."

Marie had her face covered with her handkerchief at this appeal, and began sobbing and using her smelling-bottle with great vehemence. "Everybody goes against me," she said. "Everybody is so inconsiderate! I shouldn't have expected that you would bring up all these remembrances of my troubles to me; it's so inconsiderate! But nobody ever does consider my trials are so peculiar! It is so hard that, when I had only one daughter, she should have been taken!—and when I had a husband that just exactly suited me-and I'm so hard to be suited!-he should be taken! And you seem to have so little feeling for me, and keep bringing it up to me so carelessly-when you know how it overcomes me! I suppose you mean well; but it is very inconsiderate, very!" And Marie sobbed and gasped for breath, and called Mainmy to open the window, and to bring her the camphor-bottle, and to bathe her head and unhook her dress; and, in the general confusion that ensued, Miss Ophelia made her escape to her apartment.

She saw at once that it would do no good to say anything more, for Marie had an indefinite capacity for hysteric fits; and after this, whenever her husband's or Eva's wishes with regard to the servants were alluded to, she always found it convenient to set one in operation. Miss Ophelia therefore did the next best thing she could for Tom; she wrote a letter to Mrs. Shelby for him, stating his troubles, and urging them to send to his relief.

The next day, Tom and Adolph, and some half-dozen other servantɛ, were marched down to a slave-warehouse to await the convenience o the trader, who was going to make up a lot for auction.

234

MR. SKEGGS.

CH. XXX. THE SLAVE WAREHOUSE.

A SLAVE warehouse! Perhaps some of my readers conjure up horrible visions of such a place. They fancy some foul, obscure den, some horrible Tartarus "informis, ingens, cui lumen ademptum." But no, innocent friend! in these days men have learned the art of sinning expertly and genteelly, so as not to shock the eyes and senses of respectable society. Human property is high in the market; and is therefore well fed, well cleaned, tended and looked after, that it may come to sale sleek, and strong, and shining. A slave-warehouse in New Orleans is a house externally not much unlike many others; kept with neatness; and where every day you may see arranged, under a sort of shed along the outside, rows of men and women, who stand there as a sign of the property sold within.

Then you shall be courteously entreated to call and examine, and shall find an abundance of husbands and wives, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, and young children, to be "sold separately or in lots, to suit the convenience of the purchaser ;" and that soul immortal, once bought with blood and anguish by the Son of God, when the earth shook, and the rocks rent, and the graves were opened, can be sold, leased, mortgaged, exchanged for groceries or dry goods, to suit the phases of trade or the fancy of the purchaser.

It was a day or two after the conversation between Marie and Miss Ophelia, that Tom, Adolph, and about half-a-dozen others of the St. Clare estate, were turned over to the loving-kindness of Mr. Skeggs, the keeper of a dépôt on —— street, to await the auction next day.

Tom had with him quite a sizable trunk full of clothing, as had most others of them. They were ushered for the night into a long room, where many other men of all ages, sizes, and shades of complexion were assembled, and from which roars of laughter and unthinking merriment were proceeding.

"Ah, ah! that's right. Go it, boys!- go it!" said Mr. Skeggs, the keeper. "My people are always so merry; Sambo, I see!" he said, speaking approvingly to a burly negro who was performing tricks of low buffoonery, which occasioned the shouts which Tom had heard.

As might be imagined, Tom was in no humour to join these proceedings; and, therefore, setting his trunk as far as possible from the noisy group, he sat down on it and leaned his face against the wall.

The dealers in the human article make scrupulous and systematic efforts to promote noisy mirth among them, as a means of drowning reflection and rendering them insensible to their condition. The whole object of the training to which the negro is put, from the time he is sold in the northern market till he arrives south, is systematically directed toward making him callous, unthinking, and brutal. The slave-dealer collects his gang in Virginia or Kentucky, and drives them to some convenient, healthy place-often a watering-place-to be fattened. Here they are fed full daily; and, because some are inclined to pine, a fiddle is kept commonly going among them, and they are made to dance daily; and he who refuses to be merry-in whose soul thoughts of wife, or child, or home, are too strong for him to be gay-is marked as sullen and dangerous, and subjected to all the evils which the ill-will