Oph. Then all your indulgence to them may prove a great cruelty by and by.

St. C. Well, I mean to make a provision by and by.

Oph. When?

St. C. One of these days!

Oph. What if you should die first?

St. C. Cousin, what 's the matter? Do you think I show symptoms of yellow fever or cholera, that you are making post mortem arrangements with such zeal?

Oph. "In the midst of life we are in death!"

St. C. [Laying aside the paper, and rising.] DEATH! Strange that there should be such a word, and such a thing, and we ever forget it; that one should be living, warm and beautiful, full of hopes, desires, and wants, one day, and the next be gone, utterly gone, and forever! [To TOM.] Want me to read to you, Tom?

Uncle T. If mas'r pleases; mas'r makes it so much plainer.

St. C. [Reads.] "When the Son of Man shall come in his glory, and all his holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory; and before him shall be gathered all nations: and he sh all separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats." [ ST. CLARE reads on, in an animated voice, till he comes to the last of the verses.] "Then shall the King say unto them on his left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire: for I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked, and ye clothed me not: I was sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not. Then shall they answer unto him, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee> Then shall he say unto them, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these my bethren, ye did it not to me." [Pauses. To TOM.] Tom, these folks that get such hard measure seem to have been doing just what I have--living good, easy respect able lives; and not troubling themselves to inquire how many of their brethren were hungry, or athirst, or sick, or in prison. [Goes to the piano and plays and sings.]

"Dies irae dies illa, Solvet saeclum in favilla, Teste David c.u.m sybilla."

[Speaks.] What a sublime conception is that of the last judgment! A righting of all the wrongs of ages! A solving of all moral problems by an unanswerable wisdom! It is, indeed, a wonderful image.

Oph. It is a fearful one to us.

St. C. It ought to be to me, I suppose. Now, that which I was reading to Tom strikes singularly. One should have expected some terrible enormities charged to those who are excluded from heaven, as the reason; but, no,--they are condemned for not doing positive good, as if that included every possible harm.

Oph. Perhaps it is impossible for a person who does no good not to do harm.

St. C. And what, what shall be said of one whose own heart, whose education, and the wants of society, have called in vain to some n.o.ble purpose; who has floated on, a dreamy, neutral spectator of the struggles, agonies, and wrongs of man, when he should be been a worker?

Oph. I should say that he ought to repent, and begin now.

St. C. Always practical and to the point! You never leave me any time for general reflections, cousin; you always bring me short up against the actual present; you have a kind of eternal now, always in your mind.

Oph. Now is all the time I have anything to do with.

St. C. Dear little Eva--poor child! she had set her little simple soul on a good work for me. [A pause.] I don't know what makes me think of my mother so much to-night. I have a strange kind of feeling, as if she were near me. I keep thinking of things she used to say. Strange what brings these past things so vividly back to us, sometimes! [Walks.] I believe I 'll go down the street, a few moments, and hear the news to-night. [Exit.]

SCENE XIII.--A Court-Yard. SERVANTS running distractedly to and fro; some looking in at the windows where lights are seen moving.

Uncle Tom. [Comes out.] He's gone!

Voices. O, mas'r! O! O! O, Lord! Good Lord! Do hab pity! O Lord, hab mercy! O, Mas'r St. Clare! O, mas'r, mas'r, mas'r! he 's dead! he 's dead! he 's dead!

ACT III.

SCENE I.-- Ca.s.sY is discovered sitting at a table covered with letters and papers, looking at a miniature.

Ca.s.sy. I 'm tired! I 'm sick! I 'm dead! Dead? yes, dead at heart! dead at the root, and yet I live; so they say at least. O, to think of it! to think of it! Why don't I die? [She rises and paces the room, and sings.]

"Una beldad existe que mis ajos Sampre la ven con majica delicia; De dia sabe disipar enojos, De noche ensuenos dulces inspirar.

Hay une labio que el mio ha, Y que untes otro labio no comprimida, Turo hareemo felez oj emaneeido, Mi labio lo comprime y otro no.

Hay une seno todo el es'propio mio, Do mi cabesa enferma reclino, Und bosa que nie si yo nio, Ojos que lloron euando lloro no."

Ah! that was his song! O, dear, why can't I ever forget it! My children too! O, Henry! O, Eliza! [She sits down, and covers her face. A carriage heard approaching, she rises quickly.] What! back already! [Looks out the window.] There! another fly in the spider web! Handsome? O, yes! and what? Yes; some mother's darling. Hah! could n't I kill him?

Legree. [Opens the door, and pushes EMMELINE in.] This way, little mistress!

Cas. You wretch! another!

Leg. Shut your mouth!

Cas. I shall shut my mouth; but your time is coming. I see it! I see it! Go on, go on! go as fast as you can! I see where it will end!

Leg. Hush, Ca.s.sy! be quiet; I mean no harm. You may take this girl up stairs. Come, be peaceable!

Cas. [To EMMELINE.] You have come to the gates of h.e.l.l! Come with me. I 'll show you the way.

[Exit, drawing EMMELINE after her.] Leg. [Solus.] The creature scares me lately! Her eyes look so dreadful! I 'll sell her, or get rid of her some way. Hang it, there 's no joke in it!

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' n.i.g.g.e.rs 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 n.i.g.g.e.r! Yo jes keep to yo own row.

Quim. [To UNCLE TOM, throwing down a bag.] Thar, yo n.i.g.g.e.r, 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.

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

Music and Voice in the air. When thou pa.s.sest 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 G.o.d, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.

SCENE III.--The Cotton-House and Scales. LEGREE, QUIMBO and SAMBO.

Sambo. Dat ar Tom 's gwine to make a powerful deal o' trouble; kept a puttin' into Lucy's basket. One o' these yer dat will get all der n.i.g.g.e.rs to feelin' 'bused, if mas'r don't watch him!

Legree. Hey-day! The black cuss! He 'll have to get a breakin' in, won't he, boys?

Quimbo. Ay, ay! let Mas'r Legree alone for breakin' in! De debil heself could n't beat mas'r at dat!

Leg. Wal, boys, the best way is to give him the flogging to do, till he gets over his notions. Break him in!

Samb. Lord, mas'r 'll have hard work to get dat out o' him!

Leg. It 'll have to come out of him, though!

Samb. Now, dar 's Lucy; de aggravatinest, ugliest wench on de place!

Leg. Take care, Sam! I shall begin to think what 's the reason for your spite agin Lucy.

Samb. Well, mas'r knows she sot herself up agin mas'r, and would n't have me when he telled her to.

Leg. I 'd a flogged her into 't, only there 's such a press of work it don't seem wuth a while to upset her jist now. She 's slender; but these yer slender gals will bear half killin' to get their own way.

Samb. Wal, Lucy was reall aggravatin' and lazy, sulkin' round; would n't do nothin'--and Tom he tuck up for her.

Leg. He did, eh! Wal, then, Tom shall have the pleasure of flogging her. It 'll be a good practice for him, and he won't put it on to the gals like you devils, neither.

Samb. and Quim. Ho, ho! haw! haw! haw!

Samb. Wal, but, mas'r, Tom and Misse Ca.s.sy, and dey among 'em, filled Lucy's basket. I ruther guess der weight 's in it, mas'r!