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

SCENE II.—Evening. Negro Quarters. Negroes in ragged clothes. -- UNCLE TOM, -- MULATTO WOMAN, and -- SAMBO. -- QUIMBO, -- UNCLE TOM, and -- SAMBO, walk along and look into houses.


Uncle Tom.

  Which of these is mine?


Sambo.

  Dunno. Turn in here, I 'spose; 'spect ders room for another dar. Right smart heap o' niggers to each on 'em. Sure I dunno what else to do with more. [To the mulatto woman, throwing down a bag of corn.] Ho! yer. What a cuss is yer name?


Woman.

  Lucy.


Samb.

  Wall, Lucy, yer my woman now; grind dis yer corn, and get my supper ready; d'ye har?


Lucy.

  I an't your woman, and I won't be! you go 'long!


Samb.

  I 'll kick yo, then!


Lucy.

  Ye may kill me, if ye choose; the sooner the better! Wish't I was dead!


Quimbo.

  I say, Sambo, you go to spilin' the hands I'll tell mas'r o' you.


Samb.

  And I 'll tell him ye won't let the women come to the mills, yo old nigger! Yo jes keep to yo own row.


Quim. [To UNCLE TOM, throwing down a bag.]

  Thar, yo nigger, grab! thar 's yer corn; ye won't git no more dis yer week.


Uncle T. [To a woman at the mill.]

  You 're tired; let me grind.


Woman.

  Deed, I is dat!

[UNCLE TOM grinds.]

Woman.

  Wall, ye ground our meal, we 'll fix yer cake for ye; 'spects ye an't much used to it.

[Goes in. UNCLE TOM sits down by the fire to read the Bible. Women return and put the cakes at the fire.]

1st Woman. [To UNCLE TOM.]

  What 's dat ar?


Uncle T.

  The Bible.


1st Woman.

  Good Lor! ha'n't seen none since I 's in ole Kintuck!


Uncle T.

  Was ye rais'd in Kintuck?


1st Woman.

  Yes, and well raised too. Never expected to come to dis yer.


2d Woman. [Coming up.]

  What dat ar, anyway?


1st Woman.

  Why, dat ar 's the Bible.


2d Woman.

  Good Lor! what 's dat?


1st Woman.

  Do tell! you never hearn of it? I used to har missis a readin' on't sometimes, in Kintuck; but, laws o' me! we don't har nothin' here but crackin' and swarin'.


2d Woman.

  Read a piece, anyways!


Uncle T. [Reads.]

  "Come unto ME, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."


2d Woman.

  Them 's good words enough; who says 'em?


Uncle T.

  The Lord.


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2d Woman.

  I jest wish I know'd whar to find Him; I would go. 'Pears like I never should get rested again. My flesh is fairly sore, and I tremble all over, every day, and Sambo's allers a jawin' a me, 'cause I does n't pick faster; and nights it 's most midnight 'fore I can get my supper; and then 'pears like I don't turn over and shut my eyes 'fore I hear de horn blow to get up and at it again in the mornin'. If I know'd whar de Lord was I 'd tell Him.


Uncle T.

  He 's here; he 's everywhere!


2d Woman.

  Lor! you an't gwine to make me believe dat ar! I know de Lord an't here; 't an't no use talking, though. I 's jest gwine to camp down, and sleep while I ken.


Uncle T. [Solus.]

  O Lord God! Where are thou? Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself, O God of Israel, the Saviour! [Lies down to sleep.]


Music and Voice in the air.

  When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee, and the rivers they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee; for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.