The cabin of Uncle Tom was a small log building, close adjoining to "thehouse," as the negro _par excellence_ designates his master's dwelling.In front it had a neat garden-patch, where, every summer, strawberries,raspberries, and a variety of fruits and vegetables, flourished undercareful tending. The whole front of it was covered by a largescarlet bignonia and a native multiflora rose, which, entwisting andinterlacing, left scarce a vestige of the rough logs to be seen. Here,also, in summer, various brilliant annuals, such as marigolds, petunias,four-o'clocks, found an indulgent corner in which to unfold theirsplendors, and were the delight and pride of Aunt Chloe's heart.

Let us enter the dwelling. The evening meal at the house is over, andAunt Chloe, who presided over its preparation as head cook, has leftto inferior officers in the kitchen the business of clearing away andwashing dishes, and come out into her own snug territories, to "get herole man's supper"; therefore, doubt not that it is her you see by thefire, presiding with anxious interest over certain frizzling items ina stew-pan, and anon with grave consideration lifting the cover ofa bake-kettle, from whence steam forth indubitable intimations of"something good." A round, black, shining face is hers, so glossy asto suggest the idea that she might have been washed over with white ofeggs, like one of her own tea rusks. Her whole plump countenance beamswith satisfaction and contentment from under her well-starched checkedturban, bearing on it, however, if we must confess it, a little ofthat tinge of self-consciousness which becomes the first cook of theneighborhood, as Aunt Chloe was universally held and acknowledged to be.

A cook she certainly was, in the very bone and centre of her soul. Nota chicken or turkey or duck in the barn-yard but looked grave when theysaw her approaching, and seemed evidently to be reflecting on theirlatter end; and certain it was that she was always meditating ontrussing, stuffing and roasting, to a degree that was calculated toinspire terror in any reflecting fowl living. Her corn-cake, in all itsvarieties of hoe-cake, dodgers, muffins, and other species too numerousto mention, was a sublime mystery to all less practised compounders; andshe would shake her fat sides with honest pride and merriment, as shewould narrate the fruitless efforts that one and another of her compeershad made to attain to her elevation.

The arrival of company at the house, the arranging of dinners andsuppers "in style," awoke all the energies of her soul; and no sightwas more welcome to her than a pile of travelling trunks launched on theverandah, for then she foresaw fresh efforts and fresh triumphs.

Just at present, however, Aunt Chloe is looking into the bake-pan; inwhich congenial operation we shall leave her till we finish our pictureof the cottage.

In one corner of it stood a bed, covered neatly with a snowy spread; andby the side of it was a piece of carpeting, of some considerable size.On this piece of carpeting Aunt Chloe took her stand, as being decidedlyin the upper walks of life; and it and the bed by which it lay, and thewhole corner, in fact, were treated with distinguished consideration,and made, so far as possible, sacred from the marauding inroadsand desecrations of little folks. In fact, that corner was the_drawing-room_ of the establishment. In the other corner was a bed ofmuch humbler pretensions, and evidently designed for _use_. The wallover the fireplace was adorned with some very brilliant scripturalprints, and a portrait of General Washington, drawn and colored ina manner which would certainly have astonished that hero, if ever hehappened to meet with its like.

On a rough bench in the corner, a couple of woolly-headed boys,with glistening black eyes and fat shining cheeks, were busy insuperintending the first walking operations of the baby, which, asis usually the case, consisted in getting up on its feet, balancing amoment, and then tumbling down,--each successive failure being violentlycheered, as something decidedly clever.

A table, somewhat rheumatic in its limbs, was drawn out in front ofthe fire, and covered with a cloth, displaying cups and saucers of adecidedly brilliant pattern, with other symptoms of an approaching meal.At this table was seated Uncle Tom, Mr. Shelby's best hand, who, as heis to be the hero of our story, we must daguerreotype for our readers.He was a large, broad-chested, powerfully-made man, of a full glossyblack, and a face whose truly African features were characterized by anexpression of grave and steady good sense, united with much kindlinessand benevolence. There was something about his whole air self-respectingand dignified, yet united with a confiding and humble simplicity.

He was very busily intent at this moment on a slate lying before him,on which he was carefully and slowly endeavoring to accomplish a copyof some letters, in which operation he was overlooked by young Mas'rGeorge, a smart, bright boy of thirteen, who appeared fully to realizethe dignity of his position as instructor.

"Not that way, Uncle Tom,--not that way," said he, briskly, as UncleTom laboriously brought up the tail of his _g_ the wrong side out; "thatmakes a _q_, you see."

"La sakes, now, does it?" said Uncle Tom, looking with a respectful,admiring air, as his young teacher flourishingly scrawled _q_'s and_g_'s innumerable for his edification; and then, taking the pencil inhis big, heavy fingers, he patiently recommenced.

"How easy white folks al'us does things!" said Aunt Chloe, pausingwhile she was greasing a griddle with a scrap of bacon on her fork, andregarding young Master George with pride. "The way he can write, now!and read, too! and then to come out here evenings and read his lessonsto us,--it's mighty interestin'!"

"But, Aunt Chloe, I'm getting mighty hungry," said George. "Isn't thatcake in the skillet almost done?"

"Mose done, Mas'r George," said Aunt Chloe, lifting the lid and peepingin,--"browning beautiful--a real lovely brown. Ah! let me alone for dat.Missis let Sally try to make some cake, t' other day, jes to _larn_ her,she said. 'O, go way, Missis,' said I; 'it really hurts my feelin's,now, to see good vittles spilt dat ar way! Cake ris all to one side--noshape at all; no more than my shoe; go way!"

And with this final expression of contempt for Sally's greenness, AuntChloe whipped the cover off the bake-kettle, and disclosed to view aneatly-baked pound-cake, of which no city confectioner need to have beenashamed. This being evidently the central point of the entertainment,Aunt Chloe began now to bustle about earnestly in the supper department.

"Here you, Mose and Pete! get out de way, you niggers! Get away,Polly, honey,--mammy'll give her baby some fin, by and by. Now, Mas'rGeorge, you jest take off dem books, and set down now with my old man,and I'll take up de sausages, and have de first griddle full of cakes onyour plates in less dan no time."

"They wanted me to come to supper in the house," said George; "but Iknew what was what too well for that, Aunt Chloe."

"So you did--so you did, honey," said Aunt Chloe, heaping the smokingbatter-cakes on his plate; "you know'd your old aunty'd keep the bestfor you. O, let you alone for dat! Go way!" And, with that, aunty gaveGeorge a nudge with her finger, designed to be immensely facetious, andturned again to her griddle with great briskness.

"Now for the cake," said Mas'r George, when the activity of thegriddle department had somewhat subsided; and, with that, the youngsterflourished a large knife over the article in question.

"La bless you, Mas'r George!" said Aunt Chloe, with earnestness,catching his arm, "you wouldn't be for cuttin' it wid dat ar great heavyknife! Smash all down--spile all de pretty rise of it. Here, I've got athin old knife, I keeps sharp a purpose. Dar now, see! comes apart lightas a feather! Now eat away--you won't get anything to beat dat ar."

"Tom Lincon says," said George, speaking with his mouth full, "thattheir Jinny is a better cook than you."

"Dem Lincons an't much count, no way!" said Aunt Chloe, contemptuously;"I mean, set along side _our_ folks. They 's 'spectable folks enough ina kinder plain way; but, as to gettin' up anything in style, they don'tbegin to have a notion on 't. Set Mas'r Lincon, now, alongside Mas'rShelby! Good Lor! and Missis Lincon,--can she kinder sweep it into aroom like my missis,--so kinder splendid, yer know! O, go way! don'ttell me nothin' of dem Lincons!"--and Aunt Chloe tossed her head as onewho hoped she did know something of the world.

"Well, though, I've heard you say," said George, "that Jinny was apretty fair cook."

"So I did," said Aunt Chloe,--"I may say dat. Good, plain, commoncookin', Jinny'll do;--make a good pone o' bread,--bile her taters_far_,--her corn cakes isn't extra, not extra now, Jinny's corn cakesisn't, but then they's far,--but, Lor, come to de higher branches, andwhat _can_ she do? Why, she makes pies--sartin she does; but what kindercrust? Can she make your real flecky paste, as melts in your mouth, andlies all up like a puff? Now, I went over thar when Miss Mary was gwineto be married, and Jinny she jest showed me de weddin' pies. Jinny andI is good friends, ye know. I never said nothin'; but go 'long, Mas'rGeorge! Why, I shouldn't sleep a wink for a week, if I had a batch ofpies like dem ar. Why, dey wan't no 'count 't all."

"I suppose Jinny thought they were ever so nice," said George.

"Thought so!--didn't she? Thar she was, showing em, as innocent--ye see,it's jest here, Jinny _don't know_. Lor, the family an't nothing! Shecan't be spected to know! 'Ta'nt no fault o' hem. Ah, Mas'r George, youdoesn't know half 'your privileges in yer family and bringin' up!" HereAunt Chloe sighed, and rolled up her eyes with emotion.

"I'm sure, Aunt Chloe, I understand my pie and pudding privileges,"said George. "Ask Tom Lincon if I don't crow over him, every time I meethim."

Aunt Chloe sat back in her chair, and indulged in a hearty guffaw oflaughter, at this witticism of young Mas'r's, laughing till the tearsrolled down her black, shining cheeks, and varying the exercise withplayfully slapping and poking Mas'r Georgey, and telling him to go way,and that he was a case--that he was fit to kill her, and that he sartinwould kill her, one of these days; and, between each of these sanguinarypredictions, going off into a laugh, each longer and stronger than theother, till George really began to think that he was a very dangerouslywitty fellow, and that it became him to be careful how he talked "asfunny as he could."

"And so ye telled Tom, did ye? O, Lor! what young uns will be up ter!Ye crowed over Tom? O, Lor! Mas'r George, if ye wouldn't make a hornbuglaugh!"

"Yes," said George, "I says to him, 'Tom, you ought to see some of AuntChloe's pies; they're the right sort,' says I."

"Pity, now, Tom couldn't," said Aunt Chloe, on whose benevolentheart the idea of Tom's benighted condition seemed to make a strongimpression. "Ye oughter just ask him here to dinner, some o' thesetimes, Mas'r George," she added; "it would look quite pretty of ye.Ye know, Mas'r George, ye oughtenter feel 'bove nobody, on 'count yerprivileges, 'cause all our privileges is gi'n to us; we ought al'ays to'member that," said Aunt Chloe, looking quite serious.

"Well, I mean to ask Tom here, some day next week," said George; "andyou do your prettiest, Aunt Chloe, and we'll make him stare. Won't wemake him eat so he won't get over it for a fortnight?"

"Yes, yes--sartin," said Aunt Chloe, delighted; "you'll see. Lor! tothink of some of our dinners! Yer mind dat ar great chicken pie I madewhen we guv de dinner to General Knox? I and Missis, we come pretty nearquarrelling about dat ar crust. What does get into ladies sometimes,I don't know; but, sometimes, when a body has de heaviest kind o''sponsibility on 'em, as ye may say, and is all kinder _'seris'_and taken up, dey takes dat ar time to be hangin' round and kinderinterferin'! Now, Missis, she wanted me to do dis way, and she wantedme to do dat way; and, finally, I got kinder sarcy, and, says I, 'Now,Missis, do jist look at dem beautiful white hands o' yourn with longfingers, and all a sparkling with rings, like my white lilies when dedew 's on 'em; and look at my great black stumpin hands. Now, don't yethink dat de Lord must have meant _me_ to make de pie-crust, and you tostay in de parlor? Dar! I was jist so sarcy, Mas'r George."

"And what did mother say?" said George.

"Say?--why, she kinder larfed in her eyes--dem great handsome eyes o'hern; and, says she, 'Well, Aunt Chloe, I think you are about in theright on 't,' says she; and she went off in de parlor. She oughtercracked me over de head for bein' so sarcy; but dar's whar 't is--Ican't do nothin' with ladies in de kitchen!"

"Well, you made out well with that dinner,--I remember everybody saidso," said George.

"Didn't I? And wan't I behind de dinin'-room door dat bery day? anddidn't I see de General pass his plate three times for some more datbery pie?--and, says he, 'You must have an uncommon cook, Mrs. Shelby.'Lor! I was fit to split myself.

"And de Gineral, he knows what cookin' is," said Aunt Chloe, drawingherself up with an air. "Bery nice man, de Gineral! He comes of one ofde bery _fustest_ families in Old Virginny! He knows what's what, now,as well as I do--de Gineral. Ye see, there's _pints_ in all pies, Mas'rGeorge; but tan't everybody knows what they is, or as orter be. But theGineral, he knows; I knew by his 'marks he made. Yes, he knows what depints is!"

By this time, Master George had arrived at that pass to which even aboy can come (under uncommon circumstances, when he really could not eatanother morsel), and, therefore, he was at leisure to notice the pile ofwoolly heads and glistening eyes which were regarding their operationshungrily from the opposite corner.

"Here, you Mose, Pete," he said, breaking off liberal bits, and throwingit at them; "you want some, don't you? Come, Aunt Chloe, bake them somecakes."

And George and Tom moved to a comfortable seat in the chimney-corner,while Aunte Chloe, after baking a goodly pile of cakes, took her babyon her lap, and began alternately filling its mouth and her own, anddistributing to Mose and Pete, who seemed rather to prefer eating theirsas they rolled about on the floor under the table, tickling each other,and occasionally pulling the baby's toes.

"O! go long, will ye?" said the mother, giving now and then a kick, ina kind of general way, under the table, when the movement became tooobstreperous. "Can't ye be decent when white folks comes to see ye?Stop dat ar, now, will ye? Better mind yerselves, or I'll take ye down abutton-hole lower, when Mas'r George is gone!"

What meaning was couched under this terrible threat, it is difficult tosay; but certain it is that its awful indistinctness seemed to producevery little impression on the young sinners addressed.

"La, now!" said Uncle Tom, "they are so full of tickle all the while,they can't behave theirselves."

Here the boys emerged from under the table, and, with hands and faceswell plastered with molasses, began a vigorous kissing of the baby.

"Get along wid ye!" said the mother, pushing away their woolly heads."Ye'll all stick together, and never get clar, if ye do dat fashion.Go long to de spring and wash yerselves!" she said, seconding herexhortations by a slap, which resounded very formidably, but whichseemed only to knock out so much more laugh from the young ones, as theytumbled precipitately over each other out of doors, where they fairlyscreamed with merriment.

"Did ye ever see such aggravating young uns?" said Aunt Chloe, rathercomplacently, as, producing an old towel, kept for such emergencies,she poured a little water out of the cracked tea-pot on it, and beganrubbing off the molasses from the baby's face and hands; and, havingpolished her till she shone, she set her down in Tom's lap, while shebusied herself in clearing away supper. The baby employed the intervalsin pulling Tom's nose, scratching his face, and burying her fat handsin his woolly hair, which last operation seemed to afford her specialcontent.

"Aint she a peart young un?" said Tom, holding her from him to take afull-length view; then, getting up, he set her on his broad shoulder,and began capering and dancing with her, while Mas'r George snapped ather with his pocket-handkerchief, and Mose and Pete, now returned again,roared after her like bears, till Aunt Chloe declared that they "fairlytook her head off" with their noise. As, according to her own statement,this surgical operation was a matter of daily occurrence in the cabin,the declaration no whit abated the merriment, till every one had roaredand tumbled and danced themselves down to a state of composure.

"Well, now, I hopes you're done," said Aunt Chloe, who had been busyin pulling out a rude box of a trundle-bed; "and now, you Mose and youPete, get into thar; for we's goin' to have the meetin'."

"O mother, we don't wanter. We wants to sit up to meetin',--meetin's isso curis. We likes 'em."

"La, Aunt Chloe, shove it under, and let 'em sit up," said Mas'r George,decisively, giving a push to the rude machine.

Aunt Chloe, having thus saved appearances, seemed highly delighted topush the thing under, saying, as she did so, "Well, mebbe 't will do 'emsome good."

The house now resolved itself into a committee of the whole, to considerthe accommodations and arrangements for the meeting.

"What we's to do for cheers, now, _I_ declar I don't know," said AuntChloe. As the meeting had been held at Uncle Tom's weekly, for anindefinite length of time, without any more "cheers," there seemed someencouragement to hope that a way would be discovered at present.

"Old Uncle Peter sung both de legs out of dat oldest cheer, last week,"suggested Mose.

"You go long! I'll boun' you pulled 'em out; some o' your shines," saidAunt Chloe.

"Well, it'll stand, if it only keeps jam up agin de wall!" said Mose.

"Den Uncle Peter mus'n't sit in it, cause he al'ays hitches when he getsa singing. He hitched pretty nigh across de room, t' other night," saidPete.

"Good Lor! get him in it, then," said Mose, "and den he'd begin, 'Comesaints--and sinners, hear me tell,' and den down he'd go,"--and Moseimitated precisely the nasal tones of the old man, tumbling on thefloor, to illustrate the supposed catastrophe.

"Come now, be decent, can't ye?" said Aunt Chloe; "an't yer shamed?"

Mas'r George, however, joined the offender in the laugh, and declareddecidedly that Mose was a "buster." So the maternal admonition seemedrather to fail of effect.

"Well, ole man," said Aunt Chloe, "you'll have to tote in them arbar'ls."

"Mother's bar'ls is like dat ar widder's, Mas'r George was reading'bout, in de good book,--dey never fails," said Mose, aside to Peter.

"I'm sure one on 'em caved in last week," said Pete, "and let 'em alldown in de middle of de singin'; dat ar was failin', warnt it?"

During this aside between Mose and Pete, two empty casks had been rolledinto the cabin, and being secured from rolling, by stones on each side,boards were laid across them, which arrangement, together with theturning down of certain tubs and pails, and the disposing of the ricketychairs, at last completed the preparation.

"Mas'r George is such a beautiful reader, now, I know he'll stay toread for us," said Aunt Chloe; "'pears like 't will be so much moreinterestin'."

George very readily consented, for your boy is always ready for anythingthat makes him of importance.

The room was soon filled with a motley assemblage, from the oldgray-headed patriarch of eighty, to the young girl and lad of fifteen. Alittle harmless gossip ensued on various themes, such as where old AuntSally got her new red headkerchief, and how "Missis was a going to giveLizzy that spotted muslin gown, when she'd got her new berage made up;"and how Mas'r Shelby was thinking of buying a new sorrel colt, that wasgoing to prove an addition to the glories of the place. A few of theworshippers belonged to families hard by, who had got permission toattend, and who brought in various choice scraps of information, aboutthe sayings and doings at the house and on the place, which circulatedas freely as the same sort of small change does in higher circles.

After a while the singing commenced, to the evident delight of allpresent. Not even all the disadvantage of nasal intonation could preventthe effect of the naturally fine voices, in airs at once wild andspirited. The words were sometimes the well-known and common hymnssung in the churches about, and sometimes of a wilder, more indefinitecharacter, picked up at camp-meetings.

The chorus of one of them, which ran as follows, was sung with greatenergy and unction:

_"Die on the field of battle, Die on the field of battle, Glory in my soul."_

Another special favorite had oft repeated the words--

_"O, I'm going to glory,--won't you come along with me? Don't you see the angels beck'ning, and a calling me away? Don't you see the golden city and the everlasting day?"_

There were others, which made incessant mention of "Jordan's banks,"and "Canaan's fields," and the "New Jerusalem;" for the negro mind,impassioned and imaginative, always attaches itself to hymns andexpressions of a vivid and pictorial nature; and, as they sung,some laughed, and some cried, and some clapped hands, or shook handsrejoicingly with each other, as if they had fairly gained the other sideof the river.

Various exhortations, or relations of experience, followed, andintermingled with the singing. One old gray-headed woman, long pastwork, but much revered as a sort of chronicle of the past, rose, andleaning on her staff, said--"Well, chil'en! Well, I'm mighty glad tohear ye all and see ye all once more, 'cause I don't know when I'll begone to glory; but I've done got ready, chil'en; 'pears like I'd gotmy little bundle all tied up, and my bonnet on, jest a waitin' for thestage to come along and take me home; sometimes, in the night, I thinkI hear the wheels a rattlin', and I'm lookin' out all the time; now, youjest be ready too, for I tell ye all, chil'en," she said striking herstaff hard on the floor, "dat ar _glory_ is a mighty thing! It's amighty thing, chil'en,--you don'no nothing about it,--it's _wonderful_."And the old creature sat down, with streaming tears, as wholly overcome,while the whole circle struck up--

_"O Canaan, bright Canaan I'm bound for the land of Canaan."_

Mas'r George, by request, read the last chapters of Revelation, ofteninterrupted by such exclamations as "The _sakes_ now!" "Only hear that!""Jest think on 't!" "Is all that a comin' sure enough?"

George, who was a bright boy, and well trained in religious things byhis mother, finding himself an object of general admiration, threwin expositions of his own, from time to time, with a commendableseriousness and gravity, for which he was admired by the young andblessed by the old; and it was agreed, on all hands, that "a ministercouldn't lay it off better than he did; that 't was reely 'mazin'!"

Uncle Tom was a sort of patriarch in religious matters, in theneighborhood. Having, naturally, an organization in which the_morale_ was strongly predominant, together with a greater breadth andcultivation of mind than obtained among his companions, he was looked upto with great respect, as a sort of minister among them; and the simple,hearty, sincere style of his exhortations might have edified even bettereducated persons. But it was in prayer that he especially excelled.Nothing could exceed the touching simplicity, the childlike earnestness,of his prayer, enriched with the language of Scripture, which seemed soentirely to have wrought itself into his being, as to have become a partof himself, and to drop from his lips unconsciously; in the languageof a pious old negro, he "prayed right up." And so much did his prayeralways work on the devotional feelings of his audiences, that thereseemed often a danger that it would be lost altogether in the abundanceof the responses which broke out everywhere around him.

While this scene was passing in the cabin of the man, one quiteotherwise passed in the halls of the master.

The trader and Mr. Shelby were seated together in the dining roomafore-named, at a table covered with papers and writing utensils.

Mr. Shelby was busy in counting some bundles of bills, which, as theywere counted, he pushed over to the trader, who counted them likewise.

"All fair," said the trader; "and now for signing these yer."

Mr. Shelby hastily drew the bills of sale towards him, and signed them,like a man that hurries over some disagreeable business, and then pushedthem over with the money. Haley produced, from a well-worn valise,a parchment, which, after looking over it a moment, he handed to Mr.Shelby, who took it with a gesture of suppressed eagerness.

"Wal, now, the thing's _done_!" said the trader, getting up.

"It's _done_!" said Mr. Shelby, in a musing tone; and, fetching a longbreath, he repeated, _"It's done!"_

"Yer don't seem to feel much pleased with it, 'pears to me," said thetrader.

"Haley," said Mr. Shelby, "I hope you'll remember that you promised, onyour honor, you wouldn't sell Tom, without knowing what sort of handshe's going into."

"Why, you've just done it sir," said the trader.

"Circumstances, you well know, _obliged_ me," said Shelby, haughtily.

"Wal, you know, they may 'blige _me_, too," said the trader."Howsomever, I'll do the very best I can in gettin' Tom a good berth;as to my treatin' on him bad, you needn't be a grain afeard. If there'sanything that I thank the Lord for, it is that I'm never noways cruel."

After the expositions which the trader had previously given of hishumane principles, Mr. Shelby did not feel particularly reassured bythese declarations; but, as they were the best comfort the case admittedof, he allowed the trader to depart in silence, and betook himself to asolitary cigar.