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.
Which of these is mine?
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?
Wall, Lucy, yer my woman now; grind dis yer corn, and get my supper ready; d'ye har?
I an't your woman, and I won't be! you go 'long!
I 'll kick yo, then!
Ye may kill me, if ye choose; the sooner the better! Wish't I was dead!
I say, Sambo, you go to spilin' the hands I'll tell mas'r o' you.
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.
Deed, I is dat!
Wall, ye ground our meal, we 'll fix yer cake for ye; 'spects ye an't much used to it.
1st Woman. [To UNCLE TOM.]
What 's dat ar?
Good Lor! ha'n't seen none since I 's in ole Kintuck!
Was ye rais'd in Kintuck?
Yes, and well raised too. Never expected to come to dis yer.
2d Woman. [Coming up.]
What dat ar, anyway?
Why, dat ar 's the Bible.
Good Lor! what 's dat?
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'.
Read a piece, anyways!
Uncle T. [Reads.]
"Come unto ME, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
Them 's good words enough; who says 'em?
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.
He 's here; he 's everywhere!
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.