Part 9 (1/2)

Leg. I do the weighing! So Misse Ca.s.sy did her day's work.

Samb. She picks like de debil and all his angels!

Leg. She 's got 'em all in her, I believe! O, here they come!

Enter UNCLE TOM, and women with baskets. Leg. Come, on here! [Weighs TOM'S basket.] Soh! Ah! Well for you! [TOM places LUCY'S basket on the scales.] What, ye lazy beast! short again? Get away-- ye 'll catch it pretty soon!

Lucy. [Groans.] O Lor! O Lor!

[Sits.] Cas. [Brings her basket to the scales.]

Leg. Well, my beauty! How d' ye like it?

Cas. Beaucoup mieux que de vivre avec une bete telle comme vous.

[Exit.] Leg. And now, come here, you Tom! You see, I telled ye I did n't buy ye jest for the common work; I mean to promote ye, and make a driver of ye; and to-night ye may jest as well begin to get yer hand in. Now, ye jest take this yer gal and flog her. Ye 've seen enough on 't to know how.

Uncle T. I beg mas'r's pardon; hopes mas'r won't set me at that. It 's what I an't used to; never did; and can't do, no way possible.

Leg. Ye 'll larn a pretty smart chance of things ye never did know, before I 've done with ye! [Thrashes TOM with cowhide.] There, now! will ye tell me ye can't do i t?

Uncle T. Yes, mas'r! I 'm willin' to work, night and day, and work while there 's life and breath in me; but this yer thing I can't feel it right to do; and, mas'r, I never shall do it--never!

Lucy. O Lord!

Slaves. O! O!

Leg. [Foaming.] What! ye blasted black beast! tell me ye don't think it right to to what I tell ye! What have any of you cussed cattle to do with thinking what 's right? I 'll put a stop to it! Why, what do ye think ye are? May be ye think ye 'r a gentleman, master Tom, to be a telling your master what 's right, and what an't! So you pretend it 's wrong to flog the gal.

Uncle T. I think so, mas'r; the poor crittur 's sick and feeble; 't would be downright cruel, and it 's what I never will do, nor begin to.

Leg. Well, here 's a pious dog, at last set down among us sinners! a saint, a gentleman, and no less, to talk to us sinners about our sins; powerful holy critter he must be! Here, you rascal! you make believe to be so pious--did n't you never hear, out of your Bible, ”Servants obey your masters”? An't I your master? Did n't I pay down twelve hundred dollars, cash, for all there is inside yer old cussed black sh.e.l.l? An't yet mine, now, body and soul? Tell me!

Uncle T. No, no, no! my soul an't yours, mas'r! You have n't bought it--you can't buy it! It has been bought and paid for by One that 's able to keep it. No matter, no matter, you can't harm me!

Leg. I can't! we 'll see! we 'll see! Here Sambo! Quimbo! give this dog such a breakin' in as he won't get over this month!

SCENE IV.--An old Gin-house Garret. UNCLE TOM lying on the floor.

Uncle Tom. O, good Lord, do look down! Give me the vict-ry! give me the vict'ry!

Enter Ca.s.sY, with lantern. Uncle T. Who 's there? O, for mercy's sake, give me some water!

Ca.s.sy. Drink all you want. I knew how 't would be! 'T an't the first time I been out o' night carrying water to such as you.

Uncle T. Thank ye, missis!

Cas. Don't call me missis! I 'm a miserable slave like you. A lower one that you can ever be! But let me see if I can't make you more comfortable. [Places a pillow under his head.] There, my poor fellow, there! that 's the best I can do for you!

Uncle T. Thank you, missis!

Cas. [Sitting.] It 's no use, my poor fellow; it 's of no use, this you 've been trying to do. You were a brave fellow; you had the right on your side; but it 's all in vain, and out of the question, for you to struggle. You are in the devil's hands; he is the strongest, and you must give up.

Uncle T. O, Lord! O, Lord! how can I give up?

Cas. There 's no use calling on the Lord; he never hears! There is n't any G.o.d, I believe; or, if there is, he 's taken sides against us. All goes against us, heaven and earth. Everything is pus.h.i.+ng us into h.e.l.l. Why shouldn't we go? You see, you don't know anything about it; I do. I 've been on this place five years, body and soul, under this man's foot, and I hate him as I do the devil! Here you are, on a lone plantation, ten miles from any other, in the swamps; not a white person here who could testify if you were burned alive; if you were scalded, cut into inch-pieces, set up for the dogs to tear, or hung up and whipped to death. There's no law here, of G.o.d or man, that can do you, or any one of us, the least good; and this man! there 's no earthly thing that he 's too good to do. I could make any one's hair rise, and their teeth chatter, if I should only tell what I 've seen and been knowing to here; and it 's no use resisting! Did I want to live with him? Was n't I a woman delicately bred? And he! G.o.d in heaven! what was he, and is he? And yet I 've lived with him these five years, and cursed every moment of my life, night and day! And now he 's got a new one; a young thing, only fifteen; and she brought up, she says, piously! Her good mistress taught her to read the Bible, and she's brought her Bible here, to h.e.l.l, with her!

Uncle T. O, Jesus! Lord Jesus! have you quite forgot us poor critturs? Help, Lord, I peris.h.!.+

Cas. And what are these miserable low dogs you work with, that you should suffer on their account? Every one of them would turn against you the first time they got a chance. They are all of 'em as low and cruel to each other as they can be; and there 's no use in your suffering to keep from hurting them.

Uncle T. Poor critturs! what made 'em cruel? And if I give out, I shall get used to 't, and grow, little by little, just like 'em! No, no, missis! I've lost everything; wife, and children, and home, and a kind mas'r; and he would have set me free, if he 'd only lived a week longer. I 've lost everything in this world, and it 's clean gone forever; and now I can't lose heaven, too; no, I can't get to be wicked, besides all!

Cas. But it can't be that the Lord will lay sin to our account; he won't charge it to us, when we 're forced to it; he 'll charge it to tham that drove us to it.