Uncle Tom's Cabin. Гарриет Бичер-Стоу

full satisfaction.

      “If I had the little devils!” muttered Haley, between his teeth.

      “But you han’t got ’em, though!” said Andy, with a triumphant flourish, and making a string of indescribable mouths at the unfortunate trader’s back, when he was fairly beyond hearing.

      “I say now, Shelby, this yer ’s a most extro’rnary business!” said Haley, as he abruptly entered the parlor. “It seems that gal ’s off, with her young un.”

      “Mr. Haley, Mrs. Shelby is present,” said Mr. Shelby.

      “I beg pardon, ma’am,” said Haley, bowing slightly, with a still lowering brow; “but still I say, as I said before, this yer’s a sing’lar report. Is it true, sir?”

      “Sir,” said Mr. Shelby, “if you wish to communicate with me, you must observe something of the decorum of a gentleman. Andy, take Mr. Haley’s hat and riding-whip. Take a seat, sir. Yes, sir; I regret to say that the young woman, excited by overhearing, or having reported to her, something of this business, has taken her child in the night, and made off.”

      “I did expect fair dealing in this matter, I confess,” said Haley.

      “Well, sir,” said Mr. Shelby, turning sharply round upon him, “what am I to understand by that remark? If any man calls my honor in question, I have but one answer for him.”

      The trader cowered at this, and in a somewhat lower tone said that “it was plaguy hard on a fellow, that had made a fair bargain, to be gulled that way.”

      “Mr. Haley,” said Mr. Shelby, “if I did not think you had some cause for disappointment, I should not have borne from you the rude and unceremonious style of your entrance into my parlor this morning. I say thus much, however, since appearances call for it, that I shall allow of no insinuations cast upon me, as if I were at all partner to any unfairness in this matter. Moreover, I shall feel bound to give you every assistance, in the use of horses, servants, etc., in the recovery of your property. So, in short, Haley,” said he, suddenly dropping from the tone of dignified coolness to his ordinary one of easy frankness, “the best way for you is to keep good-natured and eat some breakfast, and we will then see what is to be done.”

      Mrs. Shelby now rose, and said her engagements would prevent her being at the breakfast-table that morning; and, deputing a very respectable mulatto woman to attend to the gentlemen’s coffee at the side-board, she left the room.

      “Old lady don’t like your humble servant, over and above,” said Haley, with an uneasy effort to be very familiar.

      “I am not accustomed to hear my wife spoken of with such freedom,” said Mr. Shelby, dryly.

      “Beg pardon; of course, only a joke, you know,” said Haley, forcing a laugh.

      “Some jokes are less agreeable than others,” rejoined Shelby.

      “Devilish free, now I’ve signed those papers, cuss him!” muttered Haley to himself; “quite grand, since yesterday!”

      Never 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 bearings, 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 blow nowhar,—dat ar a fact,” said Sam, sententiously, giving an additional hoist to his pantaloons, and adroitly substituting a long nail in place of a missing suspender-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.

      “High! what’s afoot now, young un?”

      “Why, you don’t know, I s’pose, that Lizy’s cut stick, and clared 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 an’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!”

      “Ah! but, Sam,” said Andy, “you’d better think twice; for Missis don’t want her cotched, and she’ll be in yer wool.”

      “High!” said Sam, opening his eyes. “How you know dat?”

      “Heard her say so, my own self, dis blessed mornin’, 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 ris up, and ses she, ‘The Lord be praised’; and Mas’r, 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’ side the fence, now I tell yer.”

      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 “knowing 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 perplexities.

      “Der an’t no saying’—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 ladder, 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.

      “Ho, ho!” said Sam, “skeery, ar 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