Harriet Beecher Stowe : Three Novels Read Online Free PDF Page B

and the whole corner, in fact, were treated with distinguished consideration, and made, so far as possible, sacred from the marauding in-roads and desecrations of little folks. In fact, that corner was the drawing-room of the establishment. In the other corner was a bed of much humbler pretensions, and evidently designed for use. The wall over the fireplace was adorned with some very brilliant scriptural prints, and a portrait of General Washington, drawn and colored in a manner which would certainly have astonished that hero, if ever he had happened 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 in superintending the first walking operations of the baby, which, as is usually the case, consisted in getting up on its feet, balancing a moment, and then tumbling down,each successive failure being violently cheered, as something decidedly clever.
     

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A table, somewhat rheumatic in its limbs, was drawn out in front of the fire, and covered with a cloth, displaying cups and saucers of a decidedly brilliant pattern, with other symptoms of an approaching meal. 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. He was a large, broad-chested, powerfully-made man, of a full glossy black, and a face whose truly African features were characterized by an expression of grave and steady good sense, united with much kindliness and benevolence. There was something about his whole air self-respecting and 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 copy of some letters, in which operation he was overlooked by young Mas'r George, a smart, bright boy of thirteen, who appeared fully to realize the dignity of his position as instructor.
"Not that way, Uncle Tom,not that way," said he, briskly, as Uncle Tom laboriously brought up the tail of his g the wrong side out; "that makes 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 in his big, heavy fingers, he patiently recommenced.
"How easy white folks al'us does things!" said Aunt Chloe, pausing while she was greasing a griddle with a scrap of bacon on her fork, and regarding young Master George with pride. "The way he can write, now! and read, too! and then to come out here evenings and read his lessons to us,it's mighty interestin'!"
"But, Aunt Chloe, I'm getting mighty hungry," said George. "Is n't that cake in the skillet almost done?"
"Mose done, Mas'r George," said Aunt Chloe, lifting the lid and peeping in,"browning beautifula 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,' says I; 'it really hurts my feelin's, now, to see good
     

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vittles spilt dat ar way! Cake ris all to one sideno shape at all; no more than my shoe;go way!"
And with this final expression of contempt for Sally's greenness, Aunt Chloe whipped the cover off the bake-kettle, and disclosed to view a neatly-baked pound-cake, of which no city confectioner need to have been ashamed. 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, Mericky, honey,mammy'll give her baby some fin, by and by. Now, Mas'r George, 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 on your plates in less dan no time."
"They wanted me to come to supper in the house," said George; "but I knew what was what too well