1 An Evening in Uncle Tom's Cabin.
2 I am sorry to part with Tom, I must say.
3 Tom comes back, sure enough; I knew he would.
4 Tom is a noble-hearted, faithful fellow, if he is black.
5 Mas'r and Tom pelted the poor drowning creature with stones.
6 No; I mean, really, Tom is a good, steady, sensible, pious fellow.
7 Uncle Tom was a sort of patriarch in religious matters, in the neighborhood.
8 "Well, Tom's got the real article, if ever a fellow had," rejoined the other.
9 Well, I mean to ask Tom here, some day next week," said George; "and you do your prettiest, Aunt Chloe, and we'll make him stare.
10 At this table was seated Uncle Tom, Mr. Shelby's best hand, who, as he is to be the hero of our story, we must daguerreotype for our readers.
11 The cabin of Uncle Tom was a small log building, close adjoining to "the house," as the negro par excellence designates his master's dwelling.
12 "Pity, now, Tom couldn't," said Aunt Chloe, on whose benevolent heart the idea of Tom's benighted condition seemed to make a strong impression.
13 The baby employed the intervals in pulling Tom's nose, scratching his face, and burying her fat hands in his woolly hair, which last operation seemed to afford her special content.
14 It was only yesterday," said George, "as I was busy loading stones into a cart, that young Mas'r Tom stood there, slashing his whip so near the horse that the creature was frightened.
15 As the meeting had been held at Uncle Tom's weekly, for an indefinite length of time, without any more "cheers," there seemed some encouragement to hope that a way would be discovered at present.
16 Now, a nigger, you see, what's got to be hacked and tumbled round the world, and sold to Tom, and Dick, and the Lord knows who, tan't no kindness to be givin on him notions and expectations, and bringin on him up too well, for the rough and tumble comes all the harder on him arter.
17 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 baby on her lap, and began alternately filling its mouth and her own, and distributing to Mose and Pete, who seemed rather to prefer eating theirs as they rolled about on the floor under the table, tickling each other, and occasionally pulling the baby's toes.
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