UNCLE TOM'S CABIN

"
come
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY. 117
" WTiii* 's this?" the King say said Marie,as she ran over
the paper.
"
Ridiculous ! I thoughtcousin was left hand,Depart from me, ye cursed,into everlasting
(oo pious for such horrid things," she added, as
fire : for I was an hungered, and ye gave
she carelessly wrote her name ; "hut, if she has a me no meat : I was thirsty, and me no
ye gave
fancy for that article, I am sure she 's welcome.'-' drink : I was a stranger, and ye took me not in :
"
Thei e, now, she 's yours, body and soul,"said naked,and ye clothed me not : I was sick,and in
St. Clare,handing the paper.
prison, ye visited me not. Then shall they
"
No more mine now than she was before," answer unto him,Lord,when saw we thee an hungered,
said Miss Ophelia. " Nobody but God has a right
or athirst,or a stranger, or naked, or sick,
to give her to me ; but I can protecther now." or in prison, and did not minister unto thee?
"
Well, she 's yours by a fictionof law,then," Then shall he say unto them
,
Inasmuch as
ye did
saiilSt. Clare,as he turned back into the parlor, it not to one of the leastof these my brethren, ye
and sat down to his paper.
did it not to me."
Miss Ophelia, who seldom sat much in Marie's St. Clare seemed struck with this last passage,
company, followed him into the parlor, havingfor he read it the second time twice," slowly,
firstcarefully laid away the and
paper.
as if he were revolving the words in his mind.
Tom," said, folks such
"
Augustine," she said, suddenly, as she sat
" he " these that get
knitting,
you ever made any provision for hard measure seem to have been doingjustwhat I
your
in of death ?"
lives ; and
servants, case your have," livinggood,easy, respectable
not troubling to inquire how many of
"
said St. Clare,as he read on.
No,"
"
Then all your indulgence to them may prove
their brethren were hungry, or athirst, sick,or
a greatcruelty,by and by "
in prison."
St. Clare had often thought the same thing Tom did not answer.
himself ; but he answered,negligently,
St. Clare rose
up and walked thoughtfully up
"
Well,I mean to make a provision, by and by."
and down the veranda,seeming to forgeteverything
"When?" said Miss Ophelia.
in his own thoughts; so absorbed was he,
"
0, one of these days."
that'Tom had to remind him twice that the teabell
had rung, before he could gethis attention.
"
What if you should die first?"
"
Cousin,what 's the matter ?" said St. Clare, St. Clare was absent and thoughtful, all teatime.
After tea,he and Marie and Miss Ophelia
laying down his paper and looking at her. "
Do
you think I show symptoms of yellowfever or took possession parlor,almost in silence.
making post mortem arrangements
Marie on a lounge, under a
zeal?"
was soon sound
cholera,that you
are
with such
disposedherself
silken mosquitocurtain, and
" ' In the midst of lifewe are in death,' " said asleep. Miss Opheliasilently busied herself
Miss Ophelia.
with her knittingṢt. Clare sat down to the
St. Clare rose
up, and laying the paper down piano, and began playing a soft and melancholy
carelessly, walked to the door that stood open
on movement with the iEolian accompaniment Ḥe
the veranda țo put an end to a conversation that seemed in a deeprevery, and to be soliloquizing
was not agreeable to him. Mechanically, to himself by music. After a little, he opened
"
rer eated the last word again, Death ! " and one of the drawers,took out an old music-book
as he leaned agains the railings, and watched whose leaves were yello w'ith age,
and began
the sparkling water as it rose and fell in the turning it over.
fountain ; and, as in a dim and dizzyhaze, saw
"
he There," said to Miss Ophelia, " this was
flowers and trees and vases of the courts, he one of my mother's books," and here is her
repeatedagain the mysticword so common in handwriting, ana look at it. She copied
every mouth, yet of such fearful power,
and arranged this from Mozart's Requiem." Miss
" "
Death !" Strangethat there should be such Ophelia came according^.
something singoften,"
a word," he said, " and such- a thing, and we
"
It was she used to
ever forget it ; that one should be living, "
said St. Clare. I think I can hear her now."
and beautiful, full of hopes, desires and wants, He struck a few majestichords, and began
one day,and the next be gone, utterly gone, and singing that grand old Latin piece țhe " Dies
forever!"
Irae."
It was a warm, goldenevening; and, as he Tom, who was listening in the outer veranda,
walked to the other end of the veranda,he saw was drawn by the sound to the very door,where
Tom busily intent on his Bible,pointing, he stood earnestlyḤe did not understand the
did so, with his finger, to each successiveword, and words,of course ; but the music and manner of
whispering them to himself with an earnest air. singingappeared to affecthim strongly, especially
"
\Vant me to read to you, Tom?" said St. when St. Clare sang the more pathetic
Clare,seating himself carelessly by him.
parts. Tom would have sympathized "If Mas'r pleases,"said Tom, gratefully; if he had known the meaningof the beautiful
'*
Mas'r makes it so much plainer."
words :
St. Clare took the book and at the
Jesu pie
of the causa tuas vias
place, and began readingone
glanced
passages
Recordare
Quod sum
which Tom had designated by the heavy marks
Ne me perdas,iliadie
around it. It ran^as follows Quterens :
me sedistilassus
Redemisti erueeui
"
When the Son of man shall come in his
passus
glory,
Tantus labor noa sitcassus.*
and all his holyangelswith him, then shall he
sit upon the throne of "These lines have been thus rather
his glory : and before him
inadequate^
shall be gathered all nations ; and he shall translated :
separate
Think, 0 Jesus, for what
them one from another,as a shepherd
Thou,
divideth his sheep from the ei dured'st earth's spiteand treason.
goats." St. Clare
read on in an animated voicețillhe came to the
unto them on his
Nor me se, in that dread season ;
Seekingme, thy worn feet hasted,
On the cross thy soul death tasted,
Let not all these toilsbe wasted