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concentrate wrath upon the syste:n which tortured the slave's body and damned the niaster's soul. Wonderful magic of genius! The hovels and cotton-fields which this authoress scarcely saw she made all the world see, and see more vividly and more truly than the busy world can ever see remote objects with its own unassisted eyes.
“That book, we may almost say, went into every household in the civilized world, which contained one person capable of reading it. And it was not an essay; it was a vivid exhibition; it was not read from a sense of duty, nor from a desire to get knowledge; it was read with passion; it was devoured; people sat up all night reading it; those who could read read it to those who could not; and hundreds of thousands who would never have read it saw it played upon the stage. Who shall presume to say how many soldiers that book added to the Union army? Who shall estimate its influence in hastening emancipation in Brazil, and in preparing the amiable Cubans for a similar measure ? Both in Cuba and Brazil the work has been read with the most passionate interest.”*
Speaking of the authoress, the same writer quoted above remarksx"She is the only woman yet produced on the continent of America to whom the world assigns equal rank in literature with the great authoresses of Europe. If, in addition to the admirable talents with which she is endowed, she had chanced to possess one more, namely, the excellent gift of plodding, she had been a consummate artist, and had produced immortal works. / All else she has, the seeing eye, the discriminating intelligence, the sympathetic mind, the fluent word, the sure and happy touch; and these gifts enabled her to render her country the precise service which it needed most. Others talked about slavery; she made us see it. She showed it to us in its fairest and in its foulest aspect; she revealed its average and ordinary working.”
Topics of the Time, by James Parton.
UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.-CHAPTER XXV.
THE LITTLE EVANGELIST. It was Sunday afternoon. St. Clare was stretched on a bambou lounge in the verandah, solacing himself with a cigar. Marie lay reclining on a sofa, opposite the window opening on the verandak, closely secluded, under an awning of transparent gauze, from the outrages of mosquitos, and languidly holding in her hand an elegantly bound prayer-book. She was holding it because it was Sunday, and she imagined she had been reading it,—though, in fact, she had been only taking a succession of short naps, with it open in her hand.
Miss Ophelia, who, after some rummaging, had hunted up a small Methodist meeting within riding distance, had gone out, with Tom as driver, to attend it; and Eva had accompanied them.
“I say, Augustine,” said Marie after dozing a while, “I must send to the city after my old Doctor Posey ; I'm sure I've got the complaint of the heart.”
“Well; why need you send for him? This doctor that attends Eva seems skillful.”
“I would not trust him in a critical case," said Marie; "and I hink I may say mine is becoming so! I've been thinking of it, whese two or three nights past; I have such distressing pains, and such strange feelings.”
“Oh, Marie, you are blue; I don't believe it's heart com. plaint.”
“I dare say you don't,” said Marie; “I was prepared to expect that. You can be alarmed enough, if Eva coughs, or has the least thing the matter with her; but you never think of me."
“If it's particularly agreeable to you te have heart disease, why, I'll try and maintain you have it,” said St. Clare; “I didn't know it was.”
Well, I only hope you won't be sorry for this, when it's too late!” said Marie; “but, believe it or not, my distress about Eva, and the exertions I have made with that dear child, have developed what I have long suspected.”
What the exertions were which Marie referred to, it would have been difficult to state. St. Clare quietly made this commentary to himself, and went on smoking, like a hard-hearted wretch of a man as he was, till a carriage drove up before the verandah, and Eva and Miss Ophelia alighted.
Miss ()pielia 1:4rched straight to her own chamber, to put away her bonnet and shawl, as was always her manner, before she spoke a word on any subject; while Eva came, at St. Clare's call, and was sitting on his knee, giving him an account of the services they had heard.
They soon heard loud exclamations from Miss Ophelia's room, which, like the one in which they were sitting, opened on to the verandah, and violent reproof addressed to somebody.
What new witchcraft has Tops been brewing ?” asked St. Clare. “That commotion is of her raising, I'll be bound !" And, in a moment after, Miss Ophelia, in high indignation, came dragging the culprit along.
“Come out here, now,” she said. “I will tell your master !” “What's the case now ?” asked Augustine.
“The case is that I can't be plagued with this child any longer! It's past all bearing; flesh and blood cannot endure it! Here, I locked her up and gave her a hymn to study; and what does she do, but spy out where I put my key, and has gone to my bureau, and got a bonnet-trimming, and cut it all to pieces, to make dolls' jackets! I never saw anything like it in my life!”
“I told you, cousin,” said Marie, “that you'd find out that these creatures can't be brought up without severity. If I had my way now,” she said, looking reproachfully at St. Clare, “I'd send that child out, and have her thoroughly whipped; I'd have her whipped till she couldn't stand !”
“I don't doubt it,” said St. Clare. “Tell me of the luvely rule of woman! I never saw above a dozen women that wouldn't half kill a horse, or a servant, either, if they had their own way with them! let alone a man."
“There is no use in this shilly-shally way of yours, St. Clare!” said Marie. “Cousin is a woman of sense, and she sees it now as plain as I do.”
Miss Ophelia had just the capability of indignation that belongs to the thorough-paced housekeeper, and this had been pretty actively roused by the artifice and wastefulness of the child; in fact, many of my lady readers must own that they should have felt just so in her circumstances; but Marie's words went beyond her, and she felt less heat.
“I wouldn't have the child treated so for the world,” she said; “ but I am sure, Augustine, I don't know what to do. I've taught and taught; I've talked till I'm tirerd; I've whipped her, I've pun. ished lier in every way I can think of, and still she's just what she was at first.”
“Come here, Tops, you monkey!" said St. Clare, calling the child up to him.
Topsy came up; her round, hard eyes glittering and blinking with a mixture of apprehensiveness and their usual odd drollery. " What makes you behave so ?” said St. Clare, who could not help being amused with the child's expression.
‘Spects it's my wicked heart," said Topsy, demurely; “Miss Feely says so.”
Don't you see how much Miss Ophelia has done for you? She says she has done everything she can think of.”
“Lor, yes, Masʼr! old Missis used to say so, too. She whipped me a heap harder, and used to pull my har, and knock my head agin the door; but it didn't do me no good! I spects, if they's to pull every spear o’ har out o' my head it wouldn't do no good, neither—I's so wicked! Laws! I's nothin but a nigger, no ways!”
'Well, I shall have to give her up,” said Miss Ophelia; “I can't have that trouble any longer.” “Well, I'd just like to ask one question,” said St. Clare.
What is it?" 'Why, if your Gospel is not strong enough to save one heathen child, that you can have at home here, all to yourself, what's the
sending one or two poor missionaries off with it among thousands of just such ? I suppose this child is about a fair sample of what thousands of your heathen are."
Miss Ophelia did not make an immediate answer; and Eva, who had stood a silent spectator of the scene thus far, made a Eilent sign to Topsy to follow her. There was a little glass-room at the corner of the verandah, which St. Clare used as a sort of reading-room; and Eva and Topsy disappeared into this place.
" What’s Eva going about now?” said St. Clare; “I mean to see.”
And, advancing on tiptoe, he lifted up a curtain that covered the glass-door, and looked in. In a moment, laying his finger on his lips, he made a silent gesture to Miss Ophelia to come and look. There sat the two children on the floor, with their side faces towards them, Topsy, with her usual air of careless drollery and unconcern; but, opposite to her, Eva, her whole face fervent vith feeling, and tears in her large eyes.
“What does make you so bad, Topsy? Why won't you try and be good? Don't you love anybody, Topsy ?”
“Donno nothin' bout love; I loves candy and sich, that's all,” said Topsy.
“But you love your father and mother?”
‘Oh, I know," said Eva, sadly; "but had you any brother or sister, or aunt, or—"
“No, none on 'em-never had nothing nor nobody.”
“ Couldn't never be nothin' but a nigger, if I war ever so good,” said Topsy. “If I could be skinned, and come white, I'd try then."
“But people can love you, if you are black, Topsy. Miss Ophelia would love you, if you were good.”
Topsy gave the short, blunt laugh that was her common mode of expressing incredulity.
“Don't you think so ?” said Eva.
“No; she can't bar me, 'cause I'm a nigger-she'd 's soon have a toad touch her! There can't nobody love niggers, and niggers can't do nothin! I don't care,” said Topsy, beginning to whistle.
“Oh, Topsy, poor child, I love you!" said Eva, with a sudden burst of feeling, and laying her little thin, white hand on Topsy's shoulder; “I love you, because you haven't had any father, or mother, or friends; because you've been a poor, abused child ! I love you, and I want you to be good. I am very unwell, Topsy, and I think I sha'n't live a great while; and it really grieves me to have you be so naughty. I wish you would try to be good for my sake—it's only a little while I shall be with you."
The round, keen eyes of the black child were overcast with tears—large, bright drops rolled heavily down, (me by one, and fell on the little white hand. Yes, in that momeni, a ray of real belief, a ray of heavenly love had penetrated the darkness of her heathen soul! She laid her head down between her knees, and wept and sobbed—while the beautiful child, bending over her, looked like the picture of some bright angel stooping to reclaim a sinner.
“Poor Topsy !" said Eva,“ don't you know that Jesus loves alı alike? He is just as willing to love you as me.
He loves you just as I do-only more, because he is better. He will help you to be good; and you can go to heaven at last, and be an angel