” he said, rolling his eyes with an
approving
grin, "me
ix em !
ix em !
Warner - World's Best Literature - v24 - Sta to Tal
His
biography is one of the richest portraitures of New England life in
the first half of the century. It shows how the sensitive and thought-
ful child grew up in an atmosphere of theological discussion, which
stiinulated the mind and by turns satisfied and distressed the heart,
while her observation and sense of humor found rich material. She
was largely endowed with imagination, with sensibility, with the
mystic's temper. She became the wife of a theological professor
with scanty means; and the tenderness of motherly experience was
mixed with the pressing cares of the household. By a removal to
## p. 14068 (#258) ##########################################
14068
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
the West she gained knowledge of more various society and institu-
tions, and then came back to the quiet of a Maine village, to ponder
in her heart all she had seen and heard and felt.
The interest of the North in the slave system of the South was
especially due to a little company of strenuous agitators, who were
instant in season and out of season in denouncing slavery as the sum
of all villainies. The violence of tone which generally characterized
the Abolitionists, and their readiness to denounce all men and all
institutions that did not fully agree with them, limited the influence
due to their purity and heroism. The conservatism of commerce, the
timidity of politicians, above all, the remoteness of the whole matter
from the personal knowledge of the Northern people, long restrained
the mass of the community from any very wide or active interest in
the subject. Mrs. Stowe's sympathy had been profoundly touched by
the tales of wrong and suffering that had come to her ears from
escaped slaves while she lived in Cincinnati. She had pondered the
whole question of slavery,— with a woman's heart, a poet's imagina-
tion, and a mind schooled by company with masculine and logical
thinkers. Then the political interests of the whole country were
focused upon the slavery question, by the great Congressional debate
on the Compromise measures in 1850. Conspicuous in that legislation
was the Fugitive Slave Act, making elaborate provision for the rendi-
tion of fugitive slaves from their Northern refuge. This law, and the
scenes incident to its enforcement, brought the reality of slavery
home to the Northern people closer than ever before, while it also
implicated them more directly in the support of the system. But
inertia and timidity still held back the mass of politicians, churches,
and the general community, from effective action or energetic protest.
Then this woman in her busy home in the quiet village, shedding
tears at midnight over the sorrows of slave wives and mothers, found
her imagination possessed by the scenes of a slave's story. It was
transferred to paper almost automatically. Then other scenes linked
themselves together, -scenes of pathos, of humor, of racy conversa-
tion, of dramatic action, of anguish, and of rapture. The whole story
was born and grew,- an inspiration, a creation, mysterious and beau-
tiful as the growth of a human life. It was given to the public, and
it took captive the heart of America and of the world. Its literary
success, measured by an enumeration of editions, translations, copies
sold, was vast almost beyond comparison. But it won a mightier
success; for probably beyond any other single influence, it planted in
the men and women of the North a deep and passionate hostility to
human slavery. The whole course of events moved together: the
political forces were marshaled on the question whether slavery should
be extended or restricted; new parties rose; and finally the two
principles — of the maintenance of the Union and the abolition of
## p. 14069 (#259) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14069
-
war -
slavery — were established at the cost of a terrible war. It would
hardly be a figure of speech to say that the Northern army in that
or the force which made the heart of that army - had been
nurtured in boyhood and youth on Uncle Tom's Cabin,' and carried
the book in their hearts.
The book was written as a protest against an institution; and now
that the institution is gone the book remains with a deep permanent
interest. It is an intensely human story. The temporary and local
color is but the incident of a portrayal of human joys and sorrows,
sufferings and victories, which appealed to readers in far-away lands,
and can hardly fail to appeal in far-away years.
One of the most admirable and effective qualities of Uncle Tom's
Cabin' is its wholly generous and sympathetic spirit toward the
master class. The condemnation is all for the system, and for the
opportunities and incitements it affords to the baser elements which
exist in mankind at large. The master and mistress supply some of
the most charming characters of the book, as the noble Mrs. Shelby
and the fascinating St. Clare.
The key-note of the book is humanity. Its sub-title is Life
among the Lowly. It is in close accord with the great philanthropic
movement of the age. Further, it is deeply religious. Its appeal is
not to creed or authority, but to the spirit of Christ. It is the Christ-
ian faith that brings master and slave together: it is the figure of the
Crucified One that to poor Tom's darkest hour brings a peace and
strength in which he can calmly face torture and death.
It was
largely to this religious quality that the book owed its effectiveness.
It rebuked that Pharisaic Christianity which had justified slavery
with Biblical precedent, or had passed by the slave on the other side,
while absorbed in ecclesiastical trifles; while its essential piety won
multitudes of churchmen who had resented the fierce assaults of the
Abolitionists on the churches and the prevalent forms of Christianity.
(Uncle Tom's Cabin went on its way and did its work; and Mrs.
Stowe, raised to sudden fame and to easier circumstances, but no
whit spoiled or unsteadied, produced as her next serious work an-
other antislavery novel, Dred. It was less an inspiration than its
predecessor, and more a deliberate construction; and was judged to
be inferior in power. Yet it was a very strong book, both in human
interest and in effective attack upon the slave system. In logical
sequence to the simple story of the earlier book, it went on to por-
tray the treatment of slavery on its own ground by the church, the
law, and the would-be reformer. It showed how its essential evils
were supported by statute and by judicial interpretation. It pictured
the ways of the clerical politician. It depicted the attempt of a
high-minded slaveholder to elevate his servants and purify the sys-
tem, and his defeat by mob violence by statute law.
## p. 14070 (#260) ##########################################
14070
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
were trenchant attacks on the system they were aimed at. But the
more abiding charm of the book is in its lifelike picturing of men
and women; and especially in “life among the lowly. ” Best of
all, perhaps, are «Old Tiff,” a counterpart of the “Uncle Remus »
whoin the present generation knows and loves; and Milly, the slave
<<
mammy,” — the type which of all the negroes Mrs. Stowe portrays
best, and perhaps the finest type of character which slavery produced.
The Dred who gives name to the book is a negro runaway and insur-
gent, — half insane, half inspired,-- pouring upon his oppressors the
denunciations and threatenings of Hebrew prophecy. The effect
upon the reader is fantastic and unreal. But the strain of terror and
foreboding seems in the retrospect like a vague, awful prophecy of
the war-cloud which was so soon to break.
Now, in the prime of her power, Mrs. Stowe turned back to the
field which she knew best; which indeed was the very home of her
heart and experience, and which she had essayed in her first slight
sketches. (The Minister's Wooing' is a prose idyl and epic of New
England, in that phase of its history which was richest and most
attractive for the literary artist. It is a somewhat romantic and
idealized picture, for Mrs. Stowe was a poet at heart; but the ground-
lines are truthful, both the heroic and the homely figures are genuine
and unmistakable in their reality, and the book throughout is racy of
the soil from which it sprung. It gives us Yankeeland in its prime
and at its best. A later phase and a grimmer aspect are described
by Rose Terry Cooke; while Miss Wilkins's sketches are taken from
a period of dismal decadence.
But The Minister's Wooing' has its deepest interest not in its
local character, but in the working of the human heart and mind
hard beset by the problems of the universe. The motive of her anti-
slavery novels is to depict a social institution; but in this book Mrs.
Stowe has revealed from within the drama of a human soul in its
supreme exigency. It is individual and yet typical. The Calvinistic
theology – which is only an intensified form of the theology inherited
by all the Protestant churches from the Middle Ages — was brought
closely home to the lives and thoughts of the people, in a society of
which the Sunday and the sermon were the central and dominating
feature. The creed thus realized and applied bore strangely min-
gled fruit, according to the individual nature and development, - of
heroism, rapture, exasperation, or despair. In the early century,
Unitarianism broke out in open revolt; while Orthodoxy rallied to
the defense, yet at the same time modified its own theories with a
rapidity of which it was unconscious. Lyman Beecher was a fore-
most champion against the Unitarians, yet he was counted among his
brethren an innovator and sometimes a heretic. In his biography
and in the lives of his children — notably in Henry Ward and in
## p. 14071 (#261) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14071
Harriet — may be traced the transformation, which without open
break has replaced a harsh by a mild religion; a change which is
world-wide, but is shown with especial clearness in the land which
the Puritan founded.
In the scanty and grim yet heroic chronicles of John Winthrop
there is occasionally a brief, terrible mention of some woman driven
by religious broodings to distraction, sometimes to murder and sui-
cide. How wide-spread the tragedy of which this was the extreme
phase, we can but surmise. It first found full articulate expression in
Mrs. Stowe, - but issuing in escape, by resource drawn from the same
creed which had crushed it. The story is that of a mother, believing
and thoughtful, whose unconverted son comes to a sudden death.
Her thought of the fate she believes he has incurred, and of the
Divine rule which decrees such a fate, and which she dares not dis-
own,- the seeming contradiction between God and right which drives
her almost to madness, — this description is as terrible as the most
lurid passage in Dante. That which at last controls and calms is the
same that sustains the slave in his extremity,– the vision of that
Savior whose very nature is love, and who is the revelation of a God
who must in some unguessed way supply the need of the creatures
he has made. Around this fiery core the story stands — like a mount-
ain with volcanic heart — in strong and graceful lines, and with rich
vesture of beauty and humor. Its heroic figure is the minister and
theologian, Dr. Hopkins: his absorption in theological speculation set
off by his self-sacrifice in espousing the unpopular antislavery cause,
and his magnanimous surrender of the woman he loves to the sailor
who had won her heart.
“The Minister's Wooing' marks the culmination of Mrs. Stowe's
writing. Of her later works, the best have their scene in New Eng-
land. (The Pearl of Orr's Island' has much of quiet beauty; and
(Oldtown Folks,' while unequal and disappointing, furnishes some
admirable scenes, and one of her raciest characters, and worthiest of
long life,- the kindly ne'er-do-weel, Sam Lawson. In Agnes of Sor-
rento' there is little creative power of character or story to match
the beauty of landscape and atmosphere. The latest stories, with
their scenes in modern American life, are slight in texture. It is
chiefly by her first three books that she will live.
Mrs. Stowe's best work was done by a sort of spontaneous inspira-
tion. She was not strong in deliberate and conscious art.
An early
letter gives a graphic description of the labor of authorship under
constant intrusion from troublesome babies and incompetent ser-
vants. One can fancy some such distracting influence as occasionally
marring her work in its details. It has not the finish of the stu-
dent who writes in the guarded privacy of the library. Yet to the
free, rough, wholesome contact with every-day life which forbade such
## p. 14072 (#262) ##########################################
14072
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
seclusion, we perhaps owe much of the fresh and homely nature in
her books, which charms us beyond mere artistic polish.
She has in a high degree the faculty of the greatest artists, of
creating as it were their characters: so that the reader recognizes and
recalls them as real people. She has a free, strong touch, not unlike
Walter Scott's. But the critic feels diffidence in assigning definite
literary rank to one who has been so closely a part of the still pres-
ent age, and thus stands in a sort of personal relation to her con-
temporaries which perhaps bars them from the judgment seat. Yet
it is hardly rash to express the opinion that measured by her best
work, Mrs. Stowe stands as distinctly first among American novel-
writers as do the others of her group in their respective fields:
Hawthorne, in pure romance; Longfellow, Lowell, Whittier, Bryant,
and Holmes, in poetry. No doubt she has been surpassed in various
particulars; but judged by the test of power to win and to impress,
and looking both at the number and the quality of the audience, it
seems a moderate judgment that no American novelist has equaled
her. Safer than any attempt to assign her rank in the world's lit-
erature is a characterization of the central quality of her mind and
work. That, we may say, was the transfer of the essential spirit of
Puritanism from the field of speculative theology and mystic experi-
ence to human duty and to social institutions. The austere, heroic
spirit, which in the seventeenth century tried to build a Church-
State in America; which, baffled in that attempt, fell back with
renewed energy on universe-schemes, - that spirit has in our century
found outlet and fruition in a new passion of service to humanity,
while the conception of man's relation to God has passed from the
idea of subject and monarch to that of child and father.
lives has the change been exemplified, but in Mrs. Stowe we see it
as wrought in a woman of strong brain and tender heart. In many
respects she is a feminine counterpart of Whittier; he of Quaker, she
of Puritan lineage; both serving in the antislavery cause; both pass-
ing on to a more personal interpretation of life; and both sublimat-
ing a dogmatic Christianity into a simple religion of love and trust,
in which Christ is still the central figure, but a Christ of the heart
and not of the creed.
Such comparison may contribute a little toward an appreciation of
this large-natured woman and fine genius. But she is to be really
known through her books, in which she expressed her best self.
In many
Geace
lorian
## p. 14073 (#263) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14073
AND
BIOGRAPHICAL
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL Note. Harriet Elizabeth
Beecher was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, June 14th, 1811. When
thirteen years of age she went to Hartford, Connecticut, to attend the
school of her sister Catherine. After studying for some years she
assisted as a teacher in that institution. In 1832 the Beecher family
moved to Cincinnati, Ohio; and four years later Harriet was married
to Professor Calvin E. Stowe, of the Lane Theological Seminary in
that city.
Her first book was "The Mayflower, or Sketches of the Descend-
ants of the Pilgrims, published in 1849. The next year the Stowes
went to Brunswick, Maine, Professor Stowe having taken a chair in
Bowdoin College. Uncle Tom's Cabin,' which was written at Bruns-
wick, began to run as a serial in the Washington National Era in
1851, and appeared in book forin in 1852. Its success was immediate
and phenomenal, half a million copies being printed within ten years,
and the translations into foreign tongues numbering about thirty.
In the same year (1852) Professor Stowe was called to Andover
Theological Seminary at Andover, Massachusetts. In 1853 the author
published a 'Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin, giving facts to substantiate
her slave story.
She made at this time the first of several European
trips, during which she was received abroad with marked respect and
honor. In 1864 the Stowes removed to Hartford, Connecticut, where
Mrs. Stowe resided until her death, July 1st, 1896. For a long term
of years she spent the summer months at her home in Florida.
Of the many editions of Mrs. Stowe's works, it is sufficient to
direct the reader to the final, authoritative, and complete Riverside
edition, 1896, issued by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. of Boston, in sixteen
volumes, with a biographical sketch, notes, portraits, and views. The
titles of the books, as they appear in this edition, are as follows:
Uncle Tom's Cabin' and the Key' (two volumes), “Dred and Other
Anti-Slavery Tales and Papers) (two volumes), «The Minister's Woo-
ing, “The Pearl of Orr's Island, Agnes of Sorrento,' (Household
Papers and Stories,' My Wife and I, Oldtown Folks' and (Sam
Lawson's Fireside Stories (two volumes), Poganuc Peopleand 'Pink
and White Tyranny,' We and Our Neighbors,' Stories, Sketches,
and Studies,' Religious Studies,' Sketches and Poems,' (Stories and
Sketches for the Young. A full sympathetic account of Mrs. Stowe
will be found in her Life,' written by her son, the Rev. Charles E.
Stowe, which Houghton, Mifflin & Co. also publish.
>
## p. 14074 (#264) ##########################################
14074
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
HOW SAM AND ANDY HELPED HALEY TO PURSUE ELIZA
From (Uncle Tom's Cabin
NY
EVER did fall of any prime minister at court occasion wider
surges of sensation than the report of Tom's fate among
his compeers on the place. It was the topic in every
mouth, everywhere; and nothing was done in the house or in
the field but to discuss its probable results. Eliza's flight - an
-
unprecedented event on the place --- was also a great accessory in
stimulating the general excitement.
Black Sam, as he was commonly called, from his being about
three shades blacker than any other son of ebony on the place,
was revolving the matter profoundly in all its phases and bear-
ings, with a comprehensiveness of vision and a strict lookout to
his own personal well-being, that would have done credit to any
white patriot in Washington.
“It's an ill wind dat blows nowhar,— dat are a fact,” said
Sam sententiously, giving an additional hoist to his pantaloons,
and adroitly substituting a long nail in place of a missing sus-
pender button, with which effort of mechanical genius he seemed
highly delighted.
« Yes: it's an ill wind blows nowhar," he repeated. Now,
dar, Tom's down; — wal, course der's room for some nigger to
be up- and why not dis nigger ? dat’s de idee. Tom, a-ridin'
round de country, boots blacked, pass in his pocket, all grand as
Cuffee,- who but he ? Now, why shouldn't Sam ? dat's what I
want to know. ”
“Halloo, Sam! O Sam! Mas'r wants you to cotch Bill and
Jerry,” said Andy, cutting short Sam's soliloquy.
Hi! what's afoot now, young un? ”
“Why, you don't know, I s'pose, dat Lizy's cut stick and
clar'd out with her young-un ? "
"You teach your granny! ” said Sam with infinite contempt:
knowed it a heap sight sooner than you did; this nigger ain't
So green, now! »
Well, anyhow, Mas'r wants Bill and Jerry geared right up;
and you and I's to go with Mas'r Haley to look arter her. ”
"Good, now! dat's de time o' day! ” said Sam. “It's Sam
dat's called for in dese yer times. He's de nigger. See if I
don't cotch her, now: Mas'r 'll see what Sam can do! ”
(
-
>>
(
(
## p. 14075 (#265) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14075
( ܕ
>>
“Ah! but, Sam,” said Andy, "you'd better think twice; for
Missis don't want her cotched, and she 'll be in yer wool. ”
"Hi! ” said Sam, opening his eyes. "How you know dat ?
«Heard her say so, my own self, dis blessed inornin' when I
bring in Mas'r's shaving-water. She sent me to see why Lizy
didn't come to dress her: and when I telled her she was off,
she jest riz up, and ses she, “The Lord be praised;' and Masʼr,
he seemed rael mad, and ses he, Wife, you talk like a fool. '
But Lor! she'll bring him to! I knows well enough how that'll
be,- it's allers best to stand Missis's side de fence, now I tell
yer. ”
C
Black Sam, upon this, scratched his woolly pate, which, if it
did not contain very profound wisdom, still contained a great
deal of a particular species much in demand among politicians of
all complexions and countries, and vulgarly denominated know-
ing which side the bread is buttered ”; so stopping with grave
consideration, he again gave a hitch to his pantaloons, which was
his regularly organized method of assisting his mental perplex-
ities.
«Der ain't no sayin'. never – 'bout no kind o' thing in dis
yer world,” he said at last.
Sam spoke like a philosopher, emphasizing this,- as if he had
had a large experience in different sorts of worlds, and therefore
had come to his conclusions advisedly.
"Now, sartin I'd 'a' said that Missis would 'a' scoured the
'varsal world after Lizy,” added Sam thoughtfully.
"So she would,” said Andy; «but can't ye see through a lad-
der, ye black nigger? Missis don't want dis yer Mas'r Haley to
get Lizy's boy: dat's de go!
Hi! ” said Sam, with an indescribable intonation, known only
to those who have heard it among the negroes.
"And I'll tell yer more 'n all,” said Andy: "I spect you'd
better be making tracks for dem hosses, - mighty sudden, too, -
for I hearn Missis 'quirin' arter yer, so you've stood foolin' long
enough. ”
Sam, upon this, began to bestir himself in real earnest: and
after a while appeared, bearing down gloriously towards the
house, with Bill and Jerry in a full canter; and adroitly throwing
himself off before they had any idea of stopping, he brought
them up alongside of the horse-post like a tornado. Haley's
horse, which was a skittish young colt, winced and bounced, and
pulled hard at his halter.
## p. 14076 (#266) ##########################################
14076
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
((
“Ho, ho! ” said Sam: "skeery, are ye? ” and his black visage
lighted up with a curious, mischievous gleam. "I'll fix ye now! »
said he.
There was a large beech-tree overshadowing the place, and
the small, sharp, triangular beech-nuts lay scattered thickly on the
ground. With one of these in his fingers, Sam approached the
colt, stroked and patted, and seemed apparently busy in soothing
his agitation. On pretense of adjusting the saddle, he adroitly
slipped under it the sharp little nut, in such a manner that the
least weight brought upon the saddle would annoy the nervous
sensibilities of the animal, without leaving any perceptible graze
or wound.
« Dar!
” he said, rolling his eyes with an approving grin, "me
ix em ! »
At this moment Mrs. Shelby appeared on the balcony, beckon-
ing to him. Sam approached with as good a determination to
pay court as did ever suitor after a vacant place at St. James's
or Washington.
“Why have you been loitering so, Sam ? I sent Andy to tell
you to hurry. ”
“Lord bless you, Missis! ” said Sam, horses won't be cotched
all in a minnit: they'd done clar'd out way down to the south
pasture, and the Lord knows whar! »
“Sam, how often must I tell you not to say 'Lord bless you,'
and The Lord knows,' and such things ? It's wicked. ”
« Oh, Lord bless my soul! I done forgot, Missis! I won't
say nothing of de sort no more. ”
"Why, Sam, you just have said it again. ”
“Did I? O Lord! -I mean, I didn't go fur to say it. ”
“You must be careful, Sam.
“Just let me get my breath, Missis, and I'll start fair. I'll be
bery careful. ”
"Well, Sam, you are to go with Mr. Haley, to show him the
road, and help him. Be careful of the horses, Sam; you know
Jerry was a little lame last week: don't ride them too fast. ”
Mrs. Shelby spoke the last words with a low voice and strong
emphasis.
“Let dis child alone for dat! ” said Sam, rolling up his eyes
with a volume of meaning. "Lord knows— hi! didn't say dat! ”
said he, suddenly catching his breath, with a ludicrous fourish
of apprehension which made his inistress laugh, spite of herself.
“Yes, Missis, I'll look out for de hosses! »
>
(
(
>
c
((
## p. 14077 (#267) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14077
-
“Now, Andy,” said Sam, returning to his stand under the
beech-tree, "you see I wouldn't be 't all surprised if dat ar
gen'lman's crittur should gib a Aling, by-and-by, when he comes
to be a-gettin' up. You know, Andy, critturs will do such
things; " and therewith Sam poked Andy in the side in a highly
suggestive manner.
«Hi! ” said Andy, with an air of instant appreciation.
“Yes, you see, Andy, Missis wants to make time: dat ar's
clar to der most or'nary 'bserver. I jis make a little for her.
Now, you see, get all dese yer hosses loose, caperin' permiscus
round dis yer lot and down to de wood dar, and I spec Mas'r
won't be off in a hurry. ”
Andy grinned.
“Yer see,” said Sam,-"yer see, Andy, if any such thing
should happen as that Masʼr Haley's horse should begin to act
contrary, and cut up, you and I jist lets go of our'n to help him,
and we'll help him: oh, yes! ” And Sam and Andy laid their
heads back on their shoulders, and broke into a low, immoder-
ate laugh, snapping their fingers and flourishing their heels with
exquisite delight.
At this instant, Haley appeared on the veranda. Somewhat
mollified by certain cups of very good coffee, he came out smil-
ing and talking, in tolerably restored humor. Sam and Andy,
clawing for certain fragmentary palm-leaves which they were in
the habit of considering as hats, flew to the horse-posts to be
ready to help Mas'r. ”
Sam's palm-leaf had been ingeniously disentangled from all
pretensions to braid, as respects its brim; and the slivers starting
apart and standing upright gave it a blazing air of freedom and
defiance, quite equal to that of any Fiji chief: while the whole
brim of Andy's being departed bodily, he rapped the crown on
his head with a dexterous thump, and looked about well pleased,
as if to say, “Who says I haven't got a hat! ”
"Well, boys,” said Haley, look alive now: we must lose no
“
time. ”
"Not a bit of him, Mas'r! ” said Sam, putting Haley's rein in
his hand and holding his stirrup, while Andy was untying the
other two horses.
The instant Haley touched the saddle, the mettlesome creat-
ure bounded from the earth with a sudden spring, that threw his
master sprawling some feet off on the soft, dry turf. Sam, with
(
(
(
## p. 14078 (#268) ##########################################
14078
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
frantic ejaculations, made a dive at the reins, but only succeeded
in brushing the blazing palmleaf afore-named into the horse's
eyes, which by no means tended to allay the confusion of his
nerves. So with great vehemence he overturned Sam, and giv-
ing two or three contemptuous snorts, flourished his heels vigor-
ously in the air, and was soon prancing away towards the lower
end of the lawn; followed by Bill and Jerry, whom Andy had
not failed to let loose according to contract, speeding them off
with various direful ejaculations. And now ensued a miscellaneous
scene of confusion. Sam and Andy ran and shouted; dogs barked
here and there; and Mike, Mose, Mandy, Fanny, and all the
smaller specimens on the place, both male and female, raced,
clapped hands, whooped, and shouted, with outrageous officious-
ness and untiring zeal.
Haley's horse, which was a white one, and very fleet and
spirited, appeared to enter into the spirit of the scene with great
gusto: and having for his coursing ground a lawn of nearly half
a mile in extent, gently sloping down on every side into indefi-
nite woodland, he appeared to take infinite delight in seeing how
near he could allow his pursuers to approach him; and then,
when within a hand's-breadth, whisk off with a start and a snort,
like a mischievous beast as he was, and career far down into
some alley of the wood-lot. Nothing was further from Sam's
mind than to have any one of the troop taken until such season
as should seem to him most befitting; and the exertions that he
made were certainly most heroic. Like the sword of Cæur de
Lion, which always blazed in the front and thickest of the battle,
Sam's palm-leaf was to be seen everywhere when there was the
least danger that a horse could be caught: there he would bear
down full tilt, shouting, “Now for it! cotch him! cotch him! »
in a way that would set everything to indiscriminate rout in a
moment.
Haley ran up and down, and cursed and swore and stamped
miscellaneously. Mr. Shelby in vain tried to shout directions
from the balcony, and Mrs. Shelby from her chamber window
alternately laughed and wondered; not without some inkling of
what lay at the bottom of all this confusion.
At last, about twelve o'clock, Sam appeared triumphant,
mounted on Jerry, with Haley's horse by his side, reeking with
sweat, but with flashing eyes and dilated nostrils, showing that
the spirit of freedom had not yet entirely subsided.
(
## p. 14079 (#269) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14079
»
c
C
(
“He's cotched! ” he exclaimed triumphantly. "If 't hadn't
been for me, they might 'a' bust theirselves, all on 'em; but I
;
cotched him! ”
« You! » growled Haley, in no amiable mood. “If it hadn't
”
been for you this never would have happened. ”
« Lord bless us, Mas'r,” said Sam, in a tone of the deepest
concern, “and me that has been racin' and chasin' till the sweat
jest pours off me! ”
« Well, well! ” said Haley, "you've lost me near three hours
with your cursed nonsense. Now let's be off, and have no more
fooling. ”
“Why, Masʼr,” said Sam in a deprecating tone, "I believe
you mean to kill us all clar, hosses and all. Here we
are all
jest ready to drop down, and the critturs all in a reek of sweat.
Why, Mas'r won't think of startin' on now till after dinner.
Mas'r's hoss wants rubbin' down,- see how he splashed hissef;
and Jerry limps too; - don't think Missis would be willin' to
have us start dis yer way, nohow. Lord bless you, Mas'r, w
can ketch up if we do stop. Lizy never was no great of a
walker. ”
Mrs. Shelby, who, greatly to her amusement, had overheard
this conversation from the veranda, now resolved to do her part.
She came forward, and courteously expressing her concern for
Haley's accident, pressed him to stay to dinner, saying that the
cook should bring it on the table immediately.
Thus, all things considered, Haley with rather an equivocal
grace proceeded to the parlor; while Sam, rolling his eyes after
him with unutterable meaning, proceeded gravely with the horses
to the stable-yard.
"Did yer see him, Andy ? did yer see him ? ” said Sam, when
he had got fairly beyond the shelter of the barn, and fastened
the horse to a post. "O Lord, if it warn't as good as a meetin',
now, to see him a-dancin' and kickin' and swarin' at us. Didn't
I hear him? Swar away, ole fellow, says I to myself; will yer
have yer hoss now, or wait till you cotch him ? says I. Lord,
Andy, I think I can see him now. ” And Sam and Andy leaned
up against the barn, and laughed to their hearts' content.
"Yer oughter seen how mad he looked when I brought the
hoss up. Lord, he'd 'a' killed me if he durs' to; and there I
was a-standin' as innercent and as humble. »
" Lord, I seed you,” said Andy: “ain't you an old hoss, Sam! ”
»
(
»
(
>
## p. 14080 (#270) ##########################################
14080
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
c
“Rather spects I am,” said Sam: “did yer see Missis up-stars
at the winder? I seed her laughin'. ”
“I'm sure I was racin' so I didn't see nothin',” said Andy.
"Well, yer see,” said Sam, proceeding gravely to wash down
Haley's pony, « l'se 'quired what ye may call a habit o' bobserva-
tion, Andy. It's a very 'portant habit, Andy, and I 'commend
yer ter be cultivatin' it, now ye're young. Hist up that hind foot,
Andy. Yer see, Andy, it's bobservation makes all de difference
in niggers. Didn't I see which way the wind blew dis yer morn-
in'? Didn't I see what Missis wanted, though she never let on?
Dat ar's bobservation, Andy. I spects it's what you may call a
faculty. Faculties is different in different peoples, but cultivation
of 'em goes a great way. ”
"I guess if I hadn't helped your bobservation dis mornin', yer
wouldn't have seen your way so smart,” said Andy.
"Andy,” said Sam, you's a promisin' child, der ain't no
manner o doubt. I think lots of yer, Andy; and I don't feel
noways ashamed to take idees from you. We oughtenter over-
look nobody, Andy, 'cause the smartest on us gets tripped up
sometimes. And so, Andy, let's go up to the house now. I'll be
boun' Missis 'll give us an uncommon good bite dis yer time. ”
ELIZA'S FLIGHT
From (Uncle Tom's Cabin)
T
IL
is impossible to conceive of a human creature more wholly
desolate and forlorn than Eliza, when she turned her footsteps
from Uncle Tom's cabin.
Her husband's suffering and dangers, and the danger of her
child, all blended in her mind with a confused and stunning
sense of the risk she was running in leaving the only home
she had ever known, and cutting loose from the protection of a
friend whom she loved and revered. Then there was the parting
from every familiar object: the place where she had grown up,
the trees under which she had played, the groves where she
had walked many an evening in happier days, by the side of her
young husband, - everything, as it lay in the clear, frosty starlight,
seemed to speak reproachfully to her, and ask her whither she
could go from a home like that?
## p. 14081 (#271) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14081
But stronger than all was maternal love, wrought into a
paroxysm of frenzy by the near approach of a fearful danger.
Her boy was old enough to have walked by her side, and in an
indifferent case she would only have led him by the hand; but
now the bare thought of putting him out of her arms made her
shudder, and she strained him to her bosom with a convulsive
grasp as she went rapidly forward.
The frosty ground creaked beneath her feet, and she trembled
at the sound; every quaking leaf and fluttering shadow sent the
blood backward to her heart, and quickened her footsteps. She
wondered within herself at the strength that seemed to be come
upon her; for she felt the weight of her boy as if it had been a
feather, and every flutter of fear seemed to increase the super-
natural power that bore her on, while from her pale lips burst
forth in frequent ejaculations the prayer to a Friend above:
"Lord, help! Lord, save me! »
If it were your Harry, mother, or your Willie, that were going
to be torn from you by a brutal trader to-morrow morning,— if
you had seen the man, and heard that the papers were signed
and delivered, and you had only from twelve o'clock till morning
to make good your escape, — how fast could you walk? How
many miles could you make in those few brief hours, with the
darling at your bosom, the little sleepy head on your shoulder,
the small soft arms trustingly holding on to your neck ?
For the child slept. At first the novelty and alarm kept
him waking; but his mother so hurriedly repressed every breath
or sound, and so assured him that if he were only still she would
certainly save him, that he clung quietly round her neck, only
asking as he found himself sinking to sleep :-
"Mother, I don't need to keep awake, do I ? ”
“No, my darling: sleep if you want to. ”
“But, mother, if I do get asleep, you won't let him get
me ? »
“No! so may God help me! ” said his mother, with a paler
cheek, and a brighter light in her large dark eyes.
“You're sure, ain't you, mother ? ”
« Yes, sure! ” said the mother, in a voice that startled herself
— for it seemed to her to come from a spirit within, that was
no part of her; and the boy dropped his little weary head on
her shoulder and was soon asleep. How the touch of those warm
XXIV—881
## p. 14082 (#272) ##########################################
14082
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
arms, and gentle breathings that came in her neck, seemed to
add fire and spirit to her movements! It seemed to her as if
strength poured into her in electric streams from every gentle
touch and movement of the sleeping, confiding child. Sublime
is the dominion of the mind over the body, that for a time can
make flesh and nerve impregnable, and string the sinews like
steel, so that the weak become so mighty.
The boundaries of the farm, the grove, the wood-lot, passed
by her dizzily, as she walked on; and still she went, leaving one
familiar object after another, slacking not, pausing not, till red-
dening daylight found her many a long mile from all traces of
any familiar objects upon the open highway.
She had often been with her mistress to visit some connec-
tions in the little village of T—, not far from the Ohio River;
and knew the road well. To go thither, to escape across the
Ohio River, were the first hurried outlines of her plan of escape;
beyond that, she could only hope in God,
When horses and vehicles began to move along the highway,
with that alert perception peculiar to a state of excitement, and
which seems to be a sort of inspiration, she became aware that
her headlong pace and distracted air might bring on her remark
and suspicion. She therefore put the boy on the ground; and
adjusting her dress and bonnet, she walked on at as rapid a
pace as she thought consistent with the preservation of appear-
ances. In her little bundle she had provided a store of cakes and
apples, which she used as expedients for quickening the speed
of the child; rolling the apple some yards before them, when the
boy would run with all his might after it: and this ruse, often
repeated, carried them over many a half-inile.
After a while they came to a thick patch of woodland,
through which murmured a clear brook. As the child complained
of hunger and thirst, she climbed over the fence with him; and
sitting down behind a large rock which concealed them from the
road, she gave him a breakfast out of her little package. The
boy wondered and grieved that she could not eat; and when,
putting his arms round her neck, he tried to wedge some of his
cake into her mouth, it seemed to her that the rising in her
throat would choke her.
“No, no, Harry darling! mother can't eat till you are safe!
We must go on — on— till we come to the river! » And she
## p. 14083 (#273) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14083
hurried again into the road, and again constrained herself to
walk regularly and composedly forward.
She was many miles past any neighborhood where she was
personally known. If she should chance to meet any who knew
her, she reflected that the well-known kindness of the family
would be of itself a blind to suspicion, as making it an unlikely
supposition that she could be a fugitive. As she was also SO
white as not to be known as of colored lineage, without a critical
survey, and her child was white also, it was much easier for her
to pass on unsuspected.
On this presumption, she stopped at noon at a neat farm-
house, to rest herself and buy some dinner for her child and
self; for as the danger decreased with the distance, the super-
natural tension of the nervous system lessened, and she found
herself both weary and hungry.
The good woman, kindly and gossiping, seemed rather pleased
than otherwise with having somebody come in to talk with,
and accepted without examination Eliza's statement that she was
going on a little piece, to spend a week with her friends ”: all
which she hoped in her heart might prove strictly true.
An hour before sunset she entered the village of T, by
the Ohio River, weary and footsore but still strong in heart.
Her first glance was at the river, which lay, like Jordan, between
her and the Canaan of liberty on the other side.
It was now early spring, and the river was swollen and tur-
bulent; great cakes of floating ice were swinging heavily to and
fro in the turbid waters. Owing to the peculiar form of the shore
on the Kentucky side, the land bending far out into the water,
the ice had been lodged and detained in great quantities; and
the narrow channel which swept round the bend was full of ice,
piled one cake over another, thus forming a temporary barrier
to the descending ice, which lodged and formed a great undu-
lating raft, filling up the whole river and extending almost to the
Kentucky shore.
Eliza stood for a moment contemplating this unfavorable as.
pect of things, which she saw at once must prevent the usual
ferry-boat from running; and then turned into a small public
house on the bank to make a few inquiries.
The hostess, who was busy in various fizzing and stewing
operations over the fire, preparatory to the evening meal, stopped
## p. 14084 (#274) ##########################################
14084
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
(
W
with a fork in her hand, as Eliza's sweet and plaintive voice
arrested her.
“What is it? ” she said.
“Isn't there any ferry or boat that takes people over to B—
now? ” she said.
“No, indeed! ” said the woman: “the boats has stopped run-
ning. ”
Eliza's look of dismay and disappointment struck the woman,
and she said inquiringly:-
“Maybe you're wanting to get over ? Anybody sick? Ye
seem mighty anxious !
I've got a child that's very dangerous,” said Eliza. “I never
heard of it till last night, and I've walked quite a piece to-day,
in hopes to get to the ferry. ”
"Well, now, that's onlucky,” said the woman, whose motherly
sympathies were much aroused: "I'm re'lly consarned for ye.
Solomon! ” she called from the window towards a small back
building. A man in leather apron and very dirty hands appeared
at the door.
"I say, Sol,” said the woman, “is that ar man going to tote
them bar'ls over to-night ? »
“He said he should try, if 'twas anyway prudent," said the
man.
“There's a man a piece down here that's going over with
some truck this evening, if he durs' to; he'll be in here to sup-
per to-night, so you'd better set down and wait. That's a sweet
little fellow,” added the woman, offering him a cake.
But the child, wholly exhausted, cried with weariness.
« Poor fellow! he isn't used to walking, and I've hurried him
on so,” said Eliza.
»
"Well, take him into this room," said the woman, opening into
a small bedroom, where stood a comfortable bed. Eliza laid the
weary boy upon it, and held his hands in hers till he was fast
asleep. For her there was no rest. As a fire in her bones, the
thought of the pursuer urged her on; and she gazed with longing
eyes on the sullen, surging waters that lay between her and lib-
erty.
Here we must take our leave of her for the present, to follow
the course of her pursuers.
»
## p. 14085 (#275) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14085
AT two o'clock Sam and Andy brought the horses up to the
posts, apparently greatly refreshed and invigorated by the scam-
per of the morning.
Sam was there, new oiled from dinner, with an abundance of
zealous and ready officiousness. As Haley approached, he was
boasting in flourishing style to Andy of the evident and emi-
nent success of the operation, now that he had “farly come to
it.
biography is one of the richest portraitures of New England life in
the first half of the century. It shows how the sensitive and thought-
ful child grew up in an atmosphere of theological discussion, which
stiinulated the mind and by turns satisfied and distressed the heart,
while her observation and sense of humor found rich material. She
was largely endowed with imagination, with sensibility, with the
mystic's temper. She became the wife of a theological professor
with scanty means; and the tenderness of motherly experience was
mixed with the pressing cares of the household. By a removal to
## p. 14068 (#258) ##########################################
14068
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
the West she gained knowledge of more various society and institu-
tions, and then came back to the quiet of a Maine village, to ponder
in her heart all she had seen and heard and felt.
The interest of the North in the slave system of the South was
especially due to a little company of strenuous agitators, who were
instant in season and out of season in denouncing slavery as the sum
of all villainies. The violence of tone which generally characterized
the Abolitionists, and their readiness to denounce all men and all
institutions that did not fully agree with them, limited the influence
due to their purity and heroism. The conservatism of commerce, the
timidity of politicians, above all, the remoteness of the whole matter
from the personal knowledge of the Northern people, long restrained
the mass of the community from any very wide or active interest in
the subject. Mrs. Stowe's sympathy had been profoundly touched by
the tales of wrong and suffering that had come to her ears from
escaped slaves while she lived in Cincinnati. She had pondered the
whole question of slavery,— with a woman's heart, a poet's imagina-
tion, and a mind schooled by company with masculine and logical
thinkers. Then the political interests of the whole country were
focused upon the slavery question, by the great Congressional debate
on the Compromise measures in 1850. Conspicuous in that legislation
was the Fugitive Slave Act, making elaborate provision for the rendi-
tion of fugitive slaves from their Northern refuge. This law, and the
scenes incident to its enforcement, brought the reality of slavery
home to the Northern people closer than ever before, while it also
implicated them more directly in the support of the system. But
inertia and timidity still held back the mass of politicians, churches,
and the general community, from effective action or energetic protest.
Then this woman in her busy home in the quiet village, shedding
tears at midnight over the sorrows of slave wives and mothers, found
her imagination possessed by the scenes of a slave's story. It was
transferred to paper almost automatically. Then other scenes linked
themselves together, -scenes of pathos, of humor, of racy conversa-
tion, of dramatic action, of anguish, and of rapture. The whole story
was born and grew,- an inspiration, a creation, mysterious and beau-
tiful as the growth of a human life. It was given to the public, and
it took captive the heart of America and of the world. Its literary
success, measured by an enumeration of editions, translations, copies
sold, was vast almost beyond comparison. But it won a mightier
success; for probably beyond any other single influence, it planted in
the men and women of the North a deep and passionate hostility to
human slavery. The whole course of events moved together: the
political forces were marshaled on the question whether slavery should
be extended or restricted; new parties rose; and finally the two
principles — of the maintenance of the Union and the abolition of
## p. 14069 (#259) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14069
-
war -
slavery — were established at the cost of a terrible war. It would
hardly be a figure of speech to say that the Northern army in that
or the force which made the heart of that army - had been
nurtured in boyhood and youth on Uncle Tom's Cabin,' and carried
the book in their hearts.
The book was written as a protest against an institution; and now
that the institution is gone the book remains with a deep permanent
interest. It is an intensely human story. The temporary and local
color is but the incident of a portrayal of human joys and sorrows,
sufferings and victories, which appealed to readers in far-away lands,
and can hardly fail to appeal in far-away years.
One of the most admirable and effective qualities of Uncle Tom's
Cabin' is its wholly generous and sympathetic spirit toward the
master class. The condemnation is all for the system, and for the
opportunities and incitements it affords to the baser elements which
exist in mankind at large. The master and mistress supply some of
the most charming characters of the book, as the noble Mrs. Shelby
and the fascinating St. Clare.
The key-note of the book is humanity. Its sub-title is Life
among the Lowly. It is in close accord with the great philanthropic
movement of the age. Further, it is deeply religious. Its appeal is
not to creed or authority, but to the spirit of Christ. It is the Christ-
ian faith that brings master and slave together: it is the figure of the
Crucified One that to poor Tom's darkest hour brings a peace and
strength in which he can calmly face torture and death.
It was
largely to this religious quality that the book owed its effectiveness.
It rebuked that Pharisaic Christianity which had justified slavery
with Biblical precedent, or had passed by the slave on the other side,
while absorbed in ecclesiastical trifles; while its essential piety won
multitudes of churchmen who had resented the fierce assaults of the
Abolitionists on the churches and the prevalent forms of Christianity.
(Uncle Tom's Cabin went on its way and did its work; and Mrs.
Stowe, raised to sudden fame and to easier circumstances, but no
whit spoiled or unsteadied, produced as her next serious work an-
other antislavery novel, Dred. It was less an inspiration than its
predecessor, and more a deliberate construction; and was judged to
be inferior in power. Yet it was a very strong book, both in human
interest and in effective attack upon the slave system. In logical
sequence to the simple story of the earlier book, it went on to por-
tray the treatment of slavery on its own ground by the church, the
law, and the would-be reformer. It showed how its essential evils
were supported by statute and by judicial interpretation. It pictured
the ways of the clerical politician. It depicted the attempt of a
high-minded slaveholder to elevate his servants and purify the sys-
tem, and his defeat by mob violence by statute law.
## p. 14070 (#260) ##########################################
14070
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
were trenchant attacks on the system they were aimed at. But the
more abiding charm of the book is in its lifelike picturing of men
and women; and especially in “life among the lowly. ” Best of
all, perhaps, are «Old Tiff,” a counterpart of the “Uncle Remus »
whoin the present generation knows and loves; and Milly, the slave
<<
mammy,” — the type which of all the negroes Mrs. Stowe portrays
best, and perhaps the finest type of character which slavery produced.
The Dred who gives name to the book is a negro runaway and insur-
gent, — half insane, half inspired,-- pouring upon his oppressors the
denunciations and threatenings of Hebrew prophecy. The effect
upon the reader is fantastic and unreal. But the strain of terror and
foreboding seems in the retrospect like a vague, awful prophecy of
the war-cloud which was so soon to break.
Now, in the prime of her power, Mrs. Stowe turned back to the
field which she knew best; which indeed was the very home of her
heart and experience, and which she had essayed in her first slight
sketches. (The Minister's Wooing' is a prose idyl and epic of New
England, in that phase of its history which was richest and most
attractive for the literary artist. It is a somewhat romantic and
idealized picture, for Mrs. Stowe was a poet at heart; but the ground-
lines are truthful, both the heroic and the homely figures are genuine
and unmistakable in their reality, and the book throughout is racy of
the soil from which it sprung. It gives us Yankeeland in its prime
and at its best. A later phase and a grimmer aspect are described
by Rose Terry Cooke; while Miss Wilkins's sketches are taken from
a period of dismal decadence.
But The Minister's Wooing' has its deepest interest not in its
local character, but in the working of the human heart and mind
hard beset by the problems of the universe. The motive of her anti-
slavery novels is to depict a social institution; but in this book Mrs.
Stowe has revealed from within the drama of a human soul in its
supreme exigency. It is individual and yet typical. The Calvinistic
theology – which is only an intensified form of the theology inherited
by all the Protestant churches from the Middle Ages — was brought
closely home to the lives and thoughts of the people, in a society of
which the Sunday and the sermon were the central and dominating
feature. The creed thus realized and applied bore strangely min-
gled fruit, according to the individual nature and development, - of
heroism, rapture, exasperation, or despair. In the early century,
Unitarianism broke out in open revolt; while Orthodoxy rallied to
the defense, yet at the same time modified its own theories with a
rapidity of which it was unconscious. Lyman Beecher was a fore-
most champion against the Unitarians, yet he was counted among his
brethren an innovator and sometimes a heretic. In his biography
and in the lives of his children — notably in Henry Ward and in
## p. 14071 (#261) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14071
Harriet — may be traced the transformation, which without open
break has replaced a harsh by a mild religion; a change which is
world-wide, but is shown with especial clearness in the land which
the Puritan founded.
In the scanty and grim yet heroic chronicles of John Winthrop
there is occasionally a brief, terrible mention of some woman driven
by religious broodings to distraction, sometimes to murder and sui-
cide. How wide-spread the tragedy of which this was the extreme
phase, we can but surmise. It first found full articulate expression in
Mrs. Stowe, - but issuing in escape, by resource drawn from the same
creed which had crushed it. The story is that of a mother, believing
and thoughtful, whose unconverted son comes to a sudden death.
Her thought of the fate she believes he has incurred, and of the
Divine rule which decrees such a fate, and which she dares not dis-
own,- the seeming contradiction between God and right which drives
her almost to madness, — this description is as terrible as the most
lurid passage in Dante. That which at last controls and calms is the
same that sustains the slave in his extremity,– the vision of that
Savior whose very nature is love, and who is the revelation of a God
who must in some unguessed way supply the need of the creatures
he has made. Around this fiery core the story stands — like a mount-
ain with volcanic heart — in strong and graceful lines, and with rich
vesture of beauty and humor. Its heroic figure is the minister and
theologian, Dr. Hopkins: his absorption in theological speculation set
off by his self-sacrifice in espousing the unpopular antislavery cause,
and his magnanimous surrender of the woman he loves to the sailor
who had won her heart.
“The Minister's Wooing' marks the culmination of Mrs. Stowe's
writing. Of her later works, the best have their scene in New Eng-
land. (The Pearl of Orr's Island' has much of quiet beauty; and
(Oldtown Folks,' while unequal and disappointing, furnishes some
admirable scenes, and one of her raciest characters, and worthiest of
long life,- the kindly ne'er-do-weel, Sam Lawson. In Agnes of Sor-
rento' there is little creative power of character or story to match
the beauty of landscape and atmosphere. The latest stories, with
their scenes in modern American life, are slight in texture. It is
chiefly by her first three books that she will live.
Mrs. Stowe's best work was done by a sort of spontaneous inspira-
tion. She was not strong in deliberate and conscious art.
An early
letter gives a graphic description of the labor of authorship under
constant intrusion from troublesome babies and incompetent ser-
vants. One can fancy some such distracting influence as occasionally
marring her work in its details. It has not the finish of the stu-
dent who writes in the guarded privacy of the library. Yet to the
free, rough, wholesome contact with every-day life which forbade such
## p. 14072 (#262) ##########################################
14072
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
seclusion, we perhaps owe much of the fresh and homely nature in
her books, which charms us beyond mere artistic polish.
She has in a high degree the faculty of the greatest artists, of
creating as it were their characters: so that the reader recognizes and
recalls them as real people. She has a free, strong touch, not unlike
Walter Scott's. But the critic feels diffidence in assigning definite
literary rank to one who has been so closely a part of the still pres-
ent age, and thus stands in a sort of personal relation to her con-
temporaries which perhaps bars them from the judgment seat. Yet
it is hardly rash to express the opinion that measured by her best
work, Mrs. Stowe stands as distinctly first among American novel-
writers as do the others of her group in their respective fields:
Hawthorne, in pure romance; Longfellow, Lowell, Whittier, Bryant,
and Holmes, in poetry. No doubt she has been surpassed in various
particulars; but judged by the test of power to win and to impress,
and looking both at the number and the quality of the audience, it
seems a moderate judgment that no American novelist has equaled
her. Safer than any attempt to assign her rank in the world's lit-
erature is a characterization of the central quality of her mind and
work. That, we may say, was the transfer of the essential spirit of
Puritanism from the field of speculative theology and mystic experi-
ence to human duty and to social institutions. The austere, heroic
spirit, which in the seventeenth century tried to build a Church-
State in America; which, baffled in that attempt, fell back with
renewed energy on universe-schemes, - that spirit has in our century
found outlet and fruition in a new passion of service to humanity,
while the conception of man's relation to God has passed from the
idea of subject and monarch to that of child and father.
lives has the change been exemplified, but in Mrs. Stowe we see it
as wrought in a woman of strong brain and tender heart. In many
respects she is a feminine counterpart of Whittier; he of Quaker, she
of Puritan lineage; both serving in the antislavery cause; both pass-
ing on to a more personal interpretation of life; and both sublimat-
ing a dogmatic Christianity into a simple religion of love and trust,
in which Christ is still the central figure, but a Christ of the heart
and not of the creed.
Such comparison may contribute a little toward an appreciation of
this large-natured woman and fine genius. But she is to be really
known through her books, in which she expressed her best self.
In many
Geace
lorian
## p. 14073 (#263) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14073
AND
BIOGRAPHICAL
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL Note. Harriet Elizabeth
Beecher was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, June 14th, 1811. When
thirteen years of age she went to Hartford, Connecticut, to attend the
school of her sister Catherine. After studying for some years she
assisted as a teacher in that institution. In 1832 the Beecher family
moved to Cincinnati, Ohio; and four years later Harriet was married
to Professor Calvin E. Stowe, of the Lane Theological Seminary in
that city.
Her first book was "The Mayflower, or Sketches of the Descend-
ants of the Pilgrims, published in 1849. The next year the Stowes
went to Brunswick, Maine, Professor Stowe having taken a chair in
Bowdoin College. Uncle Tom's Cabin,' which was written at Bruns-
wick, began to run as a serial in the Washington National Era in
1851, and appeared in book forin in 1852. Its success was immediate
and phenomenal, half a million copies being printed within ten years,
and the translations into foreign tongues numbering about thirty.
In the same year (1852) Professor Stowe was called to Andover
Theological Seminary at Andover, Massachusetts. In 1853 the author
published a 'Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin, giving facts to substantiate
her slave story.
She made at this time the first of several European
trips, during which she was received abroad with marked respect and
honor. In 1864 the Stowes removed to Hartford, Connecticut, where
Mrs. Stowe resided until her death, July 1st, 1896. For a long term
of years she spent the summer months at her home in Florida.
Of the many editions of Mrs. Stowe's works, it is sufficient to
direct the reader to the final, authoritative, and complete Riverside
edition, 1896, issued by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. of Boston, in sixteen
volumes, with a biographical sketch, notes, portraits, and views. The
titles of the books, as they appear in this edition, are as follows:
Uncle Tom's Cabin' and the Key' (two volumes), “Dred and Other
Anti-Slavery Tales and Papers) (two volumes), «The Minister's Woo-
ing, “The Pearl of Orr's Island, Agnes of Sorrento,' (Household
Papers and Stories,' My Wife and I, Oldtown Folks' and (Sam
Lawson's Fireside Stories (two volumes), Poganuc Peopleand 'Pink
and White Tyranny,' We and Our Neighbors,' Stories, Sketches,
and Studies,' Religious Studies,' Sketches and Poems,' (Stories and
Sketches for the Young. A full sympathetic account of Mrs. Stowe
will be found in her Life,' written by her son, the Rev. Charles E.
Stowe, which Houghton, Mifflin & Co. also publish.
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
HOW SAM AND ANDY HELPED HALEY TO PURSUE ELIZA
From (Uncle Tom's Cabin
NY
EVER did fall of any prime minister at court occasion wider
surges of sensation than the report of Tom's fate among
his compeers on the place. It was the topic in every
mouth, everywhere; and nothing was done in the house or in
the field but to discuss its probable results. Eliza's flight - an
-
unprecedented event on the place --- was also a great accessory in
stimulating the general excitement.
Black Sam, as he was commonly called, from his being about
three shades blacker than any other son of ebony on the place,
was revolving the matter profoundly in all its phases and bear-
ings, with a comprehensiveness of vision and a strict lookout to
his own personal well-being, that would have done credit to any
white patriot in Washington.
“It's an ill wind dat blows nowhar,— dat are a fact,” said
Sam sententiously, giving an additional hoist to his pantaloons,
and adroitly substituting a long nail in place of a missing sus-
pender button, with which effort of mechanical genius he seemed
highly delighted.
« Yes: it's an ill wind blows nowhar," he repeated. Now,
dar, Tom's down; — wal, course der's room for some nigger to
be up- and why not dis nigger ? dat’s de idee. Tom, a-ridin'
round de country, boots blacked, pass in his pocket, all grand as
Cuffee,- who but he ? Now, why shouldn't Sam ? dat's what I
want to know. ”
“Halloo, Sam! O Sam! Mas'r wants you to cotch Bill and
Jerry,” said Andy, cutting short Sam's soliloquy.
Hi! what's afoot now, young un? ”
“Why, you don't know, I s'pose, dat Lizy's cut stick and
clar'd out with her young-un ? "
"You teach your granny! ” said Sam with infinite contempt:
knowed it a heap sight sooner than you did; this nigger ain't
So green, now! »
Well, anyhow, Mas'r wants Bill and Jerry geared right up;
and you and I's to go with Mas'r Haley to look arter her. ”
"Good, now! dat's de time o' day! ” said Sam. “It's Sam
dat's called for in dese yer times. He's de nigger. See if I
don't cotch her, now: Mas'r 'll see what Sam can do! ”
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
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“Ah! but, Sam,” said Andy, "you'd better think twice; for
Missis don't want her cotched, and she 'll be in yer wool. ”
"Hi! ” said Sam, opening his eyes. "How you know dat ?
«Heard her say so, my own self, dis blessed inornin' when I
bring in Mas'r's shaving-water. She sent me to see why Lizy
didn't come to dress her: and when I telled her she was off,
she jest riz up, and ses she, “The Lord be praised;' and Masʼr,
he seemed rael mad, and ses he, Wife, you talk like a fool. '
But Lor! she'll bring him to! I knows well enough how that'll
be,- it's allers best to stand Missis's side de fence, now I tell
yer. ”
C
Black Sam, upon this, scratched his woolly pate, which, if it
did not contain very profound wisdom, still contained a great
deal of a particular species much in demand among politicians of
all complexions and countries, and vulgarly denominated know-
ing which side the bread is buttered ”; so stopping with grave
consideration, he again gave a hitch to his pantaloons, which was
his regularly organized method of assisting his mental perplex-
ities.
«Der ain't no sayin'. never – 'bout no kind o' thing in dis
yer world,” he said at last.
Sam spoke like a philosopher, emphasizing this,- as if he had
had a large experience in different sorts of worlds, and therefore
had come to his conclusions advisedly.
"Now, sartin I'd 'a' said that Missis would 'a' scoured the
'varsal world after Lizy,” added Sam thoughtfully.
"So she would,” said Andy; «but can't ye see through a lad-
der, ye black nigger? Missis don't want dis yer Mas'r Haley to
get Lizy's boy: dat's de go!
Hi! ” said Sam, with an indescribable intonation, known only
to those who have heard it among the negroes.
"And I'll tell yer more 'n all,” said Andy: "I spect you'd
better be making tracks for dem hosses, - mighty sudden, too, -
for I hearn Missis 'quirin' arter yer, so you've stood foolin' long
enough. ”
Sam, upon this, began to bestir himself in real earnest: and
after a while appeared, bearing down gloriously towards the
house, with Bill and Jerry in a full canter; and adroitly throwing
himself off before they had any idea of stopping, he brought
them up alongside of the horse-post like a tornado. Haley's
horse, which was a skittish young colt, winced and bounced, and
pulled hard at his halter.
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
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“Ho, ho! ” said Sam: "skeery, are ye? ” and his black visage
lighted up with a curious, mischievous gleam. "I'll fix ye now! »
said he.
There was a large beech-tree overshadowing the place, and
the small, sharp, triangular beech-nuts lay scattered thickly on the
ground. With one of these in his fingers, Sam approached the
colt, stroked and patted, and seemed apparently busy in soothing
his agitation. On pretense of adjusting the saddle, he adroitly
slipped under it the sharp little nut, in such a manner that the
least weight brought upon the saddle would annoy the nervous
sensibilities of the animal, without leaving any perceptible graze
or wound.
« Dar!
” he said, rolling his eyes with an approving grin, "me
ix em ! »
At this moment Mrs. Shelby appeared on the balcony, beckon-
ing to him. Sam approached with as good a determination to
pay court as did ever suitor after a vacant place at St. James's
or Washington.
“Why have you been loitering so, Sam ? I sent Andy to tell
you to hurry. ”
“Lord bless you, Missis! ” said Sam, horses won't be cotched
all in a minnit: they'd done clar'd out way down to the south
pasture, and the Lord knows whar! »
“Sam, how often must I tell you not to say 'Lord bless you,'
and The Lord knows,' and such things ? It's wicked. ”
« Oh, Lord bless my soul! I done forgot, Missis! I won't
say nothing of de sort no more. ”
"Why, Sam, you just have said it again. ”
“Did I? O Lord! -I mean, I didn't go fur to say it. ”
“You must be careful, Sam.
“Just let me get my breath, Missis, and I'll start fair. I'll be
bery careful. ”
"Well, Sam, you are to go with Mr. Haley, to show him the
road, and help him. Be careful of the horses, Sam; you know
Jerry was a little lame last week: don't ride them too fast. ”
Mrs. Shelby spoke the last words with a low voice and strong
emphasis.
“Let dis child alone for dat! ” said Sam, rolling up his eyes
with a volume of meaning. "Lord knows— hi! didn't say dat! ”
said he, suddenly catching his breath, with a ludicrous fourish
of apprehension which made his inistress laugh, spite of herself.
“Yes, Missis, I'll look out for de hosses! »
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
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“Now, Andy,” said Sam, returning to his stand under the
beech-tree, "you see I wouldn't be 't all surprised if dat ar
gen'lman's crittur should gib a Aling, by-and-by, when he comes
to be a-gettin' up. You know, Andy, critturs will do such
things; " and therewith Sam poked Andy in the side in a highly
suggestive manner.
«Hi! ” said Andy, with an air of instant appreciation.
“Yes, you see, Andy, Missis wants to make time: dat ar's
clar to der most or'nary 'bserver. I jis make a little for her.
Now, you see, get all dese yer hosses loose, caperin' permiscus
round dis yer lot and down to de wood dar, and I spec Mas'r
won't be off in a hurry. ”
Andy grinned.
“Yer see,” said Sam,-"yer see, Andy, if any such thing
should happen as that Masʼr Haley's horse should begin to act
contrary, and cut up, you and I jist lets go of our'n to help him,
and we'll help him: oh, yes! ” And Sam and Andy laid their
heads back on their shoulders, and broke into a low, immoder-
ate laugh, snapping their fingers and flourishing their heels with
exquisite delight.
At this instant, Haley appeared on the veranda. Somewhat
mollified by certain cups of very good coffee, he came out smil-
ing and talking, in tolerably restored humor. Sam and Andy,
clawing for certain fragmentary palm-leaves which they were in
the habit of considering as hats, flew to the horse-posts to be
ready to help Mas'r. ”
Sam's palm-leaf had been ingeniously disentangled from all
pretensions to braid, as respects its brim; and the slivers starting
apart and standing upright gave it a blazing air of freedom and
defiance, quite equal to that of any Fiji chief: while the whole
brim of Andy's being departed bodily, he rapped the crown on
his head with a dexterous thump, and looked about well pleased,
as if to say, “Who says I haven't got a hat! ”
"Well, boys,” said Haley, look alive now: we must lose no
“
time. ”
"Not a bit of him, Mas'r! ” said Sam, putting Haley's rein in
his hand and holding his stirrup, while Andy was untying the
other two horses.
The instant Haley touched the saddle, the mettlesome creat-
ure bounded from the earth with a sudden spring, that threw his
master sprawling some feet off on the soft, dry turf. Sam, with
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
frantic ejaculations, made a dive at the reins, but only succeeded
in brushing the blazing palmleaf afore-named into the horse's
eyes, which by no means tended to allay the confusion of his
nerves. So with great vehemence he overturned Sam, and giv-
ing two or three contemptuous snorts, flourished his heels vigor-
ously in the air, and was soon prancing away towards the lower
end of the lawn; followed by Bill and Jerry, whom Andy had
not failed to let loose according to contract, speeding them off
with various direful ejaculations. And now ensued a miscellaneous
scene of confusion. Sam and Andy ran and shouted; dogs barked
here and there; and Mike, Mose, Mandy, Fanny, and all the
smaller specimens on the place, both male and female, raced,
clapped hands, whooped, and shouted, with outrageous officious-
ness and untiring zeal.
Haley's horse, which was a white one, and very fleet and
spirited, appeared to enter into the spirit of the scene with great
gusto: and having for his coursing ground a lawn of nearly half
a mile in extent, gently sloping down on every side into indefi-
nite woodland, he appeared to take infinite delight in seeing how
near he could allow his pursuers to approach him; and then,
when within a hand's-breadth, whisk off with a start and a snort,
like a mischievous beast as he was, and career far down into
some alley of the wood-lot. Nothing was further from Sam's
mind than to have any one of the troop taken until such season
as should seem to him most befitting; and the exertions that he
made were certainly most heroic. Like the sword of Cæur de
Lion, which always blazed in the front and thickest of the battle,
Sam's palm-leaf was to be seen everywhere when there was the
least danger that a horse could be caught: there he would bear
down full tilt, shouting, “Now for it! cotch him! cotch him! »
in a way that would set everything to indiscriminate rout in a
moment.
Haley ran up and down, and cursed and swore and stamped
miscellaneously. Mr. Shelby in vain tried to shout directions
from the balcony, and Mrs. Shelby from her chamber window
alternately laughed and wondered; not without some inkling of
what lay at the bottom of all this confusion.
At last, about twelve o'clock, Sam appeared triumphant,
mounted on Jerry, with Haley's horse by his side, reeking with
sweat, but with flashing eyes and dilated nostrils, showing that
the spirit of freedom had not yet entirely subsided.
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“He's cotched! ” he exclaimed triumphantly. "If 't hadn't
been for me, they might 'a' bust theirselves, all on 'em; but I
;
cotched him! ”
« You! » growled Haley, in no amiable mood. “If it hadn't
”
been for you this never would have happened. ”
« Lord bless us, Mas'r,” said Sam, in a tone of the deepest
concern, “and me that has been racin' and chasin' till the sweat
jest pours off me! ”
« Well, well! ” said Haley, "you've lost me near three hours
with your cursed nonsense. Now let's be off, and have no more
fooling. ”
“Why, Masʼr,” said Sam in a deprecating tone, "I believe
you mean to kill us all clar, hosses and all. Here we
are all
jest ready to drop down, and the critturs all in a reek of sweat.
Why, Mas'r won't think of startin' on now till after dinner.
Mas'r's hoss wants rubbin' down,- see how he splashed hissef;
and Jerry limps too; - don't think Missis would be willin' to
have us start dis yer way, nohow. Lord bless you, Mas'r, w
can ketch up if we do stop. Lizy never was no great of a
walker. ”
Mrs. Shelby, who, greatly to her amusement, had overheard
this conversation from the veranda, now resolved to do her part.
She came forward, and courteously expressing her concern for
Haley's accident, pressed him to stay to dinner, saying that the
cook should bring it on the table immediately.
Thus, all things considered, Haley with rather an equivocal
grace proceeded to the parlor; while Sam, rolling his eyes after
him with unutterable meaning, proceeded gravely with the horses
to the stable-yard.
"Did yer see him, Andy ? did yer see him ? ” said Sam, when
he had got fairly beyond the shelter of the barn, and fastened
the horse to a post. "O Lord, if it warn't as good as a meetin',
now, to see him a-dancin' and kickin' and swarin' at us. Didn't
I hear him? Swar away, ole fellow, says I to myself; will yer
have yer hoss now, or wait till you cotch him ? says I. Lord,
Andy, I think I can see him now. ” And Sam and Andy leaned
up against the barn, and laughed to their hearts' content.
"Yer oughter seen how mad he looked when I brought the
hoss up. Lord, he'd 'a' killed me if he durs' to; and there I
was a-standin' as innercent and as humble. »
" Lord, I seed you,” said Andy: “ain't you an old hoss, Sam! ”
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
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“Rather spects I am,” said Sam: “did yer see Missis up-stars
at the winder? I seed her laughin'. ”
“I'm sure I was racin' so I didn't see nothin',” said Andy.
"Well, yer see,” said Sam, proceeding gravely to wash down
Haley's pony, « l'se 'quired what ye may call a habit o' bobserva-
tion, Andy. It's a very 'portant habit, Andy, and I 'commend
yer ter be cultivatin' it, now ye're young. Hist up that hind foot,
Andy. Yer see, Andy, it's bobservation makes all de difference
in niggers. Didn't I see which way the wind blew dis yer morn-
in'? Didn't I see what Missis wanted, though she never let on?
Dat ar's bobservation, Andy. I spects it's what you may call a
faculty. Faculties is different in different peoples, but cultivation
of 'em goes a great way. ”
"I guess if I hadn't helped your bobservation dis mornin', yer
wouldn't have seen your way so smart,” said Andy.
"Andy,” said Sam, you's a promisin' child, der ain't no
manner o doubt. I think lots of yer, Andy; and I don't feel
noways ashamed to take idees from you. We oughtenter over-
look nobody, Andy, 'cause the smartest on us gets tripped up
sometimes. And so, Andy, let's go up to the house now. I'll be
boun' Missis 'll give us an uncommon good bite dis yer time. ”
ELIZA'S FLIGHT
From (Uncle Tom's Cabin)
T
IL
is impossible to conceive of a human creature more wholly
desolate and forlorn than Eliza, when she turned her footsteps
from Uncle Tom's cabin.
Her husband's suffering and dangers, and the danger of her
child, all blended in her mind with a confused and stunning
sense of the risk she was running in leaving the only home
she had ever known, and cutting loose from the protection of a
friend whom she loved and revered. Then there was the parting
from every familiar object: the place where she had grown up,
the trees under which she had played, the groves where she
had walked many an evening in happier days, by the side of her
young husband, - everything, as it lay in the clear, frosty starlight,
seemed to speak reproachfully to her, and ask her whither she
could go from a home like that?
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
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But stronger than all was maternal love, wrought into a
paroxysm of frenzy by the near approach of a fearful danger.
Her boy was old enough to have walked by her side, and in an
indifferent case she would only have led him by the hand; but
now the bare thought of putting him out of her arms made her
shudder, and she strained him to her bosom with a convulsive
grasp as she went rapidly forward.
The frosty ground creaked beneath her feet, and she trembled
at the sound; every quaking leaf and fluttering shadow sent the
blood backward to her heart, and quickened her footsteps. She
wondered within herself at the strength that seemed to be come
upon her; for she felt the weight of her boy as if it had been a
feather, and every flutter of fear seemed to increase the super-
natural power that bore her on, while from her pale lips burst
forth in frequent ejaculations the prayer to a Friend above:
"Lord, help! Lord, save me! »
If it were your Harry, mother, or your Willie, that were going
to be torn from you by a brutal trader to-morrow morning,— if
you had seen the man, and heard that the papers were signed
and delivered, and you had only from twelve o'clock till morning
to make good your escape, — how fast could you walk? How
many miles could you make in those few brief hours, with the
darling at your bosom, the little sleepy head on your shoulder,
the small soft arms trustingly holding on to your neck ?
For the child slept. At first the novelty and alarm kept
him waking; but his mother so hurriedly repressed every breath
or sound, and so assured him that if he were only still she would
certainly save him, that he clung quietly round her neck, only
asking as he found himself sinking to sleep :-
"Mother, I don't need to keep awake, do I ? ”
“No, my darling: sleep if you want to. ”
“But, mother, if I do get asleep, you won't let him get
me ? »
“No! so may God help me! ” said his mother, with a paler
cheek, and a brighter light in her large dark eyes.
“You're sure, ain't you, mother ? ”
« Yes, sure! ” said the mother, in a voice that startled herself
— for it seemed to her to come from a spirit within, that was
no part of her; and the boy dropped his little weary head on
her shoulder and was soon asleep. How the touch of those warm
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
arms, and gentle breathings that came in her neck, seemed to
add fire and spirit to her movements! It seemed to her as if
strength poured into her in electric streams from every gentle
touch and movement of the sleeping, confiding child. Sublime
is the dominion of the mind over the body, that for a time can
make flesh and nerve impregnable, and string the sinews like
steel, so that the weak become so mighty.
The boundaries of the farm, the grove, the wood-lot, passed
by her dizzily, as she walked on; and still she went, leaving one
familiar object after another, slacking not, pausing not, till red-
dening daylight found her many a long mile from all traces of
any familiar objects upon the open highway.
She had often been with her mistress to visit some connec-
tions in the little village of T—, not far from the Ohio River;
and knew the road well. To go thither, to escape across the
Ohio River, were the first hurried outlines of her plan of escape;
beyond that, she could only hope in God,
When horses and vehicles began to move along the highway,
with that alert perception peculiar to a state of excitement, and
which seems to be a sort of inspiration, she became aware that
her headlong pace and distracted air might bring on her remark
and suspicion. She therefore put the boy on the ground; and
adjusting her dress and bonnet, she walked on at as rapid a
pace as she thought consistent with the preservation of appear-
ances. In her little bundle she had provided a store of cakes and
apples, which she used as expedients for quickening the speed
of the child; rolling the apple some yards before them, when the
boy would run with all his might after it: and this ruse, often
repeated, carried them over many a half-inile.
After a while they came to a thick patch of woodland,
through which murmured a clear brook. As the child complained
of hunger and thirst, she climbed over the fence with him; and
sitting down behind a large rock which concealed them from the
road, she gave him a breakfast out of her little package. The
boy wondered and grieved that she could not eat; and when,
putting his arms round her neck, he tried to wedge some of his
cake into her mouth, it seemed to her that the rising in her
throat would choke her.
“No, no, Harry darling! mother can't eat till you are safe!
We must go on — on— till we come to the river! » And she
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14083
hurried again into the road, and again constrained herself to
walk regularly and composedly forward.
She was many miles past any neighborhood where she was
personally known. If she should chance to meet any who knew
her, she reflected that the well-known kindness of the family
would be of itself a blind to suspicion, as making it an unlikely
supposition that she could be a fugitive. As she was also SO
white as not to be known as of colored lineage, without a critical
survey, and her child was white also, it was much easier for her
to pass on unsuspected.
On this presumption, she stopped at noon at a neat farm-
house, to rest herself and buy some dinner for her child and
self; for as the danger decreased with the distance, the super-
natural tension of the nervous system lessened, and she found
herself both weary and hungry.
The good woman, kindly and gossiping, seemed rather pleased
than otherwise with having somebody come in to talk with,
and accepted without examination Eliza's statement that she was
going on a little piece, to spend a week with her friends ”: all
which she hoped in her heart might prove strictly true.
An hour before sunset she entered the village of T, by
the Ohio River, weary and footsore but still strong in heart.
Her first glance was at the river, which lay, like Jordan, between
her and the Canaan of liberty on the other side.
It was now early spring, and the river was swollen and tur-
bulent; great cakes of floating ice were swinging heavily to and
fro in the turbid waters. Owing to the peculiar form of the shore
on the Kentucky side, the land bending far out into the water,
the ice had been lodged and detained in great quantities; and
the narrow channel which swept round the bend was full of ice,
piled one cake over another, thus forming a temporary barrier
to the descending ice, which lodged and formed a great undu-
lating raft, filling up the whole river and extending almost to the
Kentucky shore.
Eliza stood for a moment contemplating this unfavorable as.
pect of things, which she saw at once must prevent the usual
ferry-boat from running; and then turned into a small public
house on the bank to make a few inquiries.
The hostess, who was busy in various fizzing and stewing
operations over the fire, preparatory to the evening meal, stopped
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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
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with a fork in her hand, as Eliza's sweet and plaintive voice
arrested her.
“What is it? ” she said.
“Isn't there any ferry or boat that takes people over to B—
now? ” she said.
“No, indeed! ” said the woman: “the boats has stopped run-
ning. ”
Eliza's look of dismay and disappointment struck the woman,
and she said inquiringly:-
“Maybe you're wanting to get over ? Anybody sick? Ye
seem mighty anxious !
I've got a child that's very dangerous,” said Eliza. “I never
heard of it till last night, and I've walked quite a piece to-day,
in hopes to get to the ferry. ”
"Well, now, that's onlucky,” said the woman, whose motherly
sympathies were much aroused: "I'm re'lly consarned for ye.
Solomon! ” she called from the window towards a small back
building. A man in leather apron and very dirty hands appeared
at the door.
"I say, Sol,” said the woman, “is that ar man going to tote
them bar'ls over to-night ? »
“He said he should try, if 'twas anyway prudent," said the
man.
“There's a man a piece down here that's going over with
some truck this evening, if he durs' to; he'll be in here to sup-
per to-night, so you'd better set down and wait. That's a sweet
little fellow,” added the woman, offering him a cake.
But the child, wholly exhausted, cried with weariness.
« Poor fellow! he isn't used to walking, and I've hurried him
on so,” said Eliza.
»
"Well, take him into this room," said the woman, opening into
a small bedroom, where stood a comfortable bed. Eliza laid the
weary boy upon it, and held his hands in hers till he was fast
asleep. For her there was no rest. As a fire in her bones, the
thought of the pursuer urged her on; and she gazed with longing
eyes on the sullen, surging waters that lay between her and lib-
erty.
Here we must take our leave of her for the present, to follow
the course of her pursuers.
»
## p. 14085 (#275) ##########################################
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
14085
AT two o'clock Sam and Andy brought the horses up to the
posts, apparently greatly refreshed and invigorated by the scam-
per of the morning.
Sam was there, new oiled from dinner, with an abundance of
zealous and ready officiousness. As Haley approached, he was
boasting in flourishing style to Andy of the evident and emi-
nent success of the operation, now that he had “farly come to
it.
