UTC
The Christian Slave
Harriet Beecher Stowe
Boston: Phillips, Sampson, 1855

SCENE IV.—Lawn before the house.

BLACK SAM solus.

Sam.

  It's an ill wind dat blow nowhar—dat ar a fact. Yes, it's an ill wind blows nowhar. 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; but who he? Now, why should n't Sam?—dat's what I want to know.

Enter ANDY, shouting.

Andy.

  Halloo, Sam! O Sam! Mas'r wants you to cotch Bill and Jerry.


Sam.

  High! what's afoot now, young un?


Andy.

  Why, you don't know, I s'pose, that Lizy's cut stick, and clared out, with her young un?


Sam.

  You teach your granny! knowed it a heap sight sooner than you did. Dis nigger ain't so green, now.


Andy.

  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.


Sam.

  Good, now! dat's de time o' day! 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!


Andy.

  Ah! but Sam, you'd better think twice; for missis don't want her cotched, and she'll be in yer wool.


Sam.

  High! how you know dat ar?


Andy.

  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 did n't come to dress her; and when I telled her she was off, she jest riz 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.


Sam. [Scratching his head.]

  Der an't no sayin'—never—'bout no kind o' thing in dis yer world. Now, sartin I'd a said that missis would a scoured the varsal world after Lizy.


Andy.

  So she would; 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.


Sam.

  High!


Andy.

  And I'll tell ye what, Sam, ye'd better be makin' tracks for dem hosses—mighty sudden too; mas'r's in a grand hurry.


Sam.

  Andy, chile, you go cotch 'em—you's a mighty good boy, Andy—and bring 'em long quick.


Mrs. Shelby. [Calling from the balcony.]

  Sam! Sam!


Sam.

  Andy! don't ye hear, ye nigger? be off quick, and bring the critturs up, and I'll go and 'scuse us to missis—dat ar takes dis chile to do.


Mrs. S. [From the balcony.]

   Sam! what have you been loitering so for?


Sam.

  Lord bless you, missis! hosses won't be cotched all in a minnit; they'd done clared out way down to the south pasture, and the Lord knows whar!


Mrs. S.

  Sam, how often must I tell you not to say "Lord bless you," and "the Lord knows," and such things? It's wicked.


Sam.

  O, Lord bless my soul! I done forgot, missis! I won't say nothing of de sort no more.


Mrs. S.

  Why, Sam, you just have said it again.


Sam.

  Did I? O Lord! I mean—I did n't go fur to say dar ar.


Mrs. S.

  You must be careful, Sam.


Sam.

  Jest let me get my breath, missis, and I'll start fair. I'll be wery careful.


Mrs. S.

  Well, Sam, you are to go with Mr. Haley, to show him the road, and help him. Be careful of the horses, Sam; you know Jerry was a little lame last week; don't ride them too fast.


Sam.

  Let dis chile alone for dat! Lord knows! High! did n't say dat! Yes, missis, I'll look out fur de hosses.