UNCLE TOM'S CABIN

that
was
so
156 KEY TO UNCLE TOM S CABIN.
Methodist cap shades her face,and the plainAve was happyenough,ifit had n't been for
white Methodist handkerchiefisfolded across
the bosom. A well-preserved stuff gown, says to him, ' There 'tis,now, Paul,our
and clean white apron, with a white pocket-troublehandkerchief pinnedto her side,completes, And every child I had,it grew worse and
is begun; this child isn't ours.'
'
the inventory of the costume in which the worse. 0, Paul,'says I, ' Avhat a thing
writer usually saw her. She is a mulatto, itisto have children that isn*t ours ! ' Paul
and must once have been a very
handsome he says to me, ' Milly, my dear,if theybe
one. Her eyes
and smile are stilluncommonly
God's children,it an't so much matter
beautiful, but there are deep-wrought whether theybe ours or no ; they may be
linesof patient sorrow and weary endurance heirs of the kingdom,Milly, for all that.'
on her face,which tell that this lovely and Well,when Paul's mistress died șhe set him
noble-heartedwoman
slave.
has been all her life a
Milly Edmondson was keptby her owners
and allowed to live with her husband,with
the express understanding
agreement
that her service and value was to consist in
breeding up her own children to be sold in
the slave-market. Her legalowner was a
maiden lady of feeble capacity, who was set
aside by the decisionof court as incompetent
to manage her affairs.
"
The estate
isto say, Milly Edmondson
"
and her children placedin the
care of a guardian. It appears that Milly's
of her,and
was a free man. A littleof her
history, as she related it to the writer, nobodyknows what I suffered ; I never see
now be givenin her own words :
a white man come on to the place that I
"
Her mistress,"she said,"was alwaysdid n't think, ' There, now, he 's coming to
kind to her ' poor thing ! ' but then she look at my children ;'and when I saw any
had n't speritever to speak for herself, and white man goingby, I 've called in "niy
her friends wouldn't let her have her own childrenand hid 'em,for fear he 'd see 'em
It always laidon my mind,"she said, and want to buy 'em. 0, ma'am, mine 's
way.
"
that I was a slave. When I wan't more been a longsorrow, a longsorrow ! I 've
than fourteen years old,Missis was doing-
borne this heavy cross a greatmany years."
some work one day that she "
thoughtshe But,"saidI, " the Lord has been with
could n't trust me with,and she says to me, you."
'
Milly, now you
see it's I that am the She answered,with very strongemphasis,
slave,and not you.' I says to her, ' Ah, Ma'am, ifthe Lord had n't held me up, I
"
Missis, I am a
poor slave,for allthat.' I 's should n't have been alive this day. 0,
sorry afterwards I said it,for I thoughtit sometimes my heart 's been so heavy,it
seemed to hurt her feelings.
seemed as if I must "\e\ and then I've
Well,after a while,when I gotengagedbeen to the throne of grace, and when I "d
"
to Paul, I loved Paul very much ; but I pouredout all my sorrows there,I came
thoughtit wan't right to bringchildren
away light, and feltthat I could live a little
into the world to be slaves, I told our longer."
folks that I was never going to marry, This language is exactlyher own. She
thoughI did love Paul. But that wan't to had often a forcibleand peculiarly beautiful
be allowed,"she said,with a mysterious manner of expressingherself,which im "
"
What do you
mean ? " said I.
"
Well,theytold me I must marry, or I
should be turned out of the church
"
was,"she added,with a significant nod.
"
"
Well,Paul and me, we was married,and
that ; but when our firstchild was born I
free,and he got him a littleplaceout about
fourteen miles from Washington ; and they
let me live out there with him,and take
home my tasks ; for theyhad that confidence
in me that theyalwaysknow'd that
what I said I'd do was as good done as if
they 'd seen itdone. I had mostlysewing;
sometimes a shirt to make in a it day," was
coarse like, you
or a know," pair of sheets,
or some such;but,whatever 't was, I always
got itdone. Then I had all my house-work
and babies to take care of; and many 's the
time,after ten o'clock. I 've took my children's
clothesand washed 'em all out and
ironed 'em late in the night,'cause I
a weak one. Milly'shusband,Paul Ed-
poor, infirm mistress was fond
that Millyexercisedover her much of that couldn't never bear to see
my
children
ascendencywhich a strong mind holds over
"
dirty, alwayswanted to see 'em sweet
mondson
and clean,and I brought 'em up and taught
'em the very best ways
I was able. But
pressedwhat
she said strongly.
Paul and MillyEdmondson were both
it devout communicants in the Methodist Episcopamony
Church at Washington, and the testi-
to their blamelessnessof lifeand tht*