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“Well, I’ll soon have that out of you. I have none o’ yer bawling, praying, singing niggers on my place; so remember. Now, mind yourself,” he said, with a stamp and a fierce glance of his gray eye, directed at Tom, “I’m your church now! You understand,- you’ve got to be as I say.” Something within the silent black man answered No! and, as if repeated by an invisible voice came the words of an old prophetic scroll, as Eva had often read them to him,- “Fear not! for I have redeemed thee. I have called thee by my name. Thou art MINE!” But Simon Legree heard no voice. That voice is one he never shall hear. He only glared for a moment on the downcast face of Tom, and walked off. He took Tom’s trunk, which contained a very neat and abundant wardrobe, to the forecas- tle, where it was soon surrounded by various hands of the boat. With much laugh- ing, at the expense of niggers who tried to be gentlemen, the articles very readily were sold to one or another, and the empty trunk finally put up at auction. It was a good joke, they all thought, especially to see how Tom looked after his things, as they were going this way and that; and then the auction of the trunk, that was fun- nier than all, and occasioned abundant witticisms. This little affair being over, Simon sauntered up again to his property. “Now, Tom, I’ve relieved you of any extra baggage, you see. Take mighty good care of them clothes. It’ll be long enough ‘fore you get more. I go in for making niggers careful! one suit has to do for one year, on my place.” |