There were little coats of many a form and pattern, piles of aprons, and rows of small stockings; and even a pair of little shoes, worn and rubbed at the toes, were peeping from the folds of a paperThere was a toy horse and wagon, a top, a ball,?memorials gathered with many a tear and many a heart-break! She sat down by the drawer, and, leaning her head on her hands over it, wept till the tears fell through her fingers into the drawer; then suddenly raising her head, she began, with nervous haste, selecting the plainest and most substantial articles, and gathering them into a bundle ?Mamma,? said one of the boys, gently touching her arm, ?you going to give away those things?? ?My dear boys,? she said, softly and earnestly, ?if our dear, loving little Henry looks down from heaven, he would be glad to have us do thisI could not find it in my heart to give them away to any common person?to anybody that was happy; but I give them to a mother more heart-broken and sorrowful than I am; and I hope God will send his blessings with them!? There are in this world blessed souls, whose sorrows all spring up into joys for others; whose earthly hopes, laid in the grave with many tears, are the seed from which spring healing flowers and balm for the desolate and the distressedAmong such was the delicate woman who sits there by the lamp, dropping slow tears, while she prepares the memorials of her own lost one for the outcast wandererBird opened a wardrobe, and, taking from thence a plain, serviceable dress or two, she sat down busily to her work-table, and, with needle, scissors, and thimble, at hand, quietly commenced the ?letting down? process which her husband had recommended, and continued busily at it till the old clock in the corner struck twelve, and she heard the low rattling of wheels at the door ?Mary,? said her husband, coming in, with his overcoat in his hand, ?you must wake her up now; we must be offBird hastily deposited the various articles she had collected in a small plain trunk, and locking it, desired her husband to see it in the carriage, and then proceeded to call the womanSoon, arrayed in a cloak, bonnet, and shawl, that had belonged to her benefactress, she appeared at the door with her child in her armsBird hurried her into the carriage, and MrsBird pressed on after her to the carriage stepsEliza leaned out of the carriage, and put out her hand,?a hand as soft and beautiful as was given in returnShe fixed her large, dark eyes, full of earnest meaning, on MrsBird?s face, and seemed going to speakHer lips moved,?she tried once or twice, but there was no sound,?and pointing upward, with a look never to be forgotten, she fell back in the seat, and covered her faceThe door was shut, and the carriage drove on What a situation, now, for a patriotic senator, that had been all the week before spurring up the legislature of his native state to pass more stringent resolutions against escaping fugitives, their harborers and abettors! Our good senator in his native state had not been exceeded by any of his brethren at Washington, in the sort of eloquence which has won for them immortal renown! How sublimely he had sat with his hands in his pockets, and scouted all sentimental weakness of those who would put the welfare of a few miserable fugitives before great state interests! He was as bold as a lion about it, and ?mightily convinced? not only himself, but everybody that heard him;?but then his idea of a fugitive was only an idea of the letters that spell the word,?or at the most, the image of a little newspaper picture of a man with a stick and bundle with ?Ran away from the subscriber? under itThe magic of the real presence of distress,?the imploring human eye, the frail, trembling human hand, the despairing appeal of helpless agony,?these he had never triedHe had never thought that a fugitive might be a hapless mother, a defenceless child,?like that one which was now wearing his lost boy?s little well-known cap; and so, as our poor senator was not stone or steel,?as he was a man, and a downright noble-hearted one, too,?he was, as everybody must see, in a sad case for his patriotismAnd you need not exult over him, good brother of the Southern States; for we have some inklings that many of you, under similar circumstances, would not do much betterWe have reason to know, in Kentucky, as in Mississippi, are noble and generous hearts, to whom never was tale of suffering told in vainAh, good brother! is it fair for you to expect of us services which your own brave, honorable heart would not allow you to render, were you in our place? Be that as it may, if our good senator was a political sinner, he was in a fair way to expiate it by his night?s penanceThere had been a long continuous period of rainy weather, and the soft, rich earth of Ohio, as every one knows, is admirably suited to the manufacture of mud?and the road was an Ohio railroad of the good old times ?And pray, what sort of a road may that be?? says some eastern traveller, who has been accustomed to connect no ideas with a railroad, but those of smoothness or speed Know, then, innocent eastern friend, that in benighted regions of the west, where the mud is of unfathomable and sublime depth, roads are made of round rough logs, arranged transversely side by side, and coated over in their pristine freshness with earth, turf, and whatsoever may come to hand, and then the rejoicing native calleth it a road, and straightway essayeth to ride thereuponIn process of time, the rains wash off all the turf and grass aforesaid, move the logs hither and thither, in picturesque positions, up, down and crosswise, with divers chasms and ruts of black mud intervening Over such a road as this our senator went stumbling along, making moral reflections as continuously as under the circumstances could be expected,?the carriage proceeding along much as follows,?bump! bump! bump! slush! down in the mud!?the senator, woman and child, reversing their positions so suddenly as to come, without any very accurate adjustment, against the windows of the down-hill sideCarriage sticks fast, while Cudjoe on the outside is heard making a great muster among the horsesAfter various ineffectual pullings and twitchings, just as the senator is losing all patience, the carriage suddenly rights itself with a bounce,?two front wheels go down into another abyss, and senator, woman, and child, all tumble promiscuously on to the front seat,?senator?s hat is jammed over his eyes and nose quite unceremoniously, and he considers himself fairly extinguished;?child cries, and Cudjoe on the outside delivers animated addresses to the horses, who are kicking, and floundering, and straining under repeated cracks of the whipCarriage springs up, with another bounce,?down go the hind wheels,?senator, woman, and child, fly over on to the back seat, his elbows encountering her bonnet, and both her feet being jammed into his hat, which flies off in the concussionAfter a few moments the ?slough? is passed, and the horses stop, panting;?the senator finds his hat, the woman straightens her bonnet and hushes her child, and they brace themselves for what is yet to come For a while only the continuous bump! bump! intermingled, just by way of variety, with divers side plunges and compound shakes; and they begin to flatter themselves that they are not so badly off, after allAt last, with a square plunge, which puts all on to their feet and then down into their seats with incredible quickness, the carriage stops,?and, after much outside commotion, Cudjoe appears at the door ?Please, sir, it?s powerful bad spot, this? yerI don?t know how we?s to get clar outI?m a thinkin? we?ll have to be a gettin? rails The senator despairingly steps out, picking gingerly for some firm foothold; down goes one foot an immeasurable depth,?he tries to pull it up, loses his balance, and tumbles over into the mud, and is fished out, in a very despairing condition, by Cudjoe But we forbear, out of sympathy to our readers? bonesWestern travellers, who have beguiled the midnight hour in the interesting process of pulling down rail fences, to pry their carriages out of mud holes, will have a respectful and mournful sympathy with our unfortunate heroWe beg them to drop a silent tear, and pass shop on

But still the door continued slowly to open, and only the Count's body stood in the gapSuddenly it struck me that this might be the moment and means of my doomI was to be given to the wolves, and at my own instigationThere was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, and as the last chance I cried out, "Shut the door! I shall wait till morning And I covered my face with my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment With one sweep of his powerful arm, the Count threw the door shut, and the great bolts clanged and echoed through the hall as they shot back into their places In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two I went to my own roomThe last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his hand to me, with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that Judas in hell might be proud of When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard a whispering at my doorI went to it softly and listenedUnless my ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count "Back! Back to your own place! Your time is not yet comeWait! Have patience! Tonight is mineTomorrow night is yours!" There was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open the door, and saw without the three terrible women licking their lipsAs I appeared, they all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away I came back to my room and threw myself on my kneesIt is then so near the end? Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I am dear! 30 June-These may be the last words I ever write in this diaryI slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the morning had comeThen came the welcome cockcrow, and I felt that I was safeWith a glad heart, I opened the door and ran down the hallI had seen that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before meWith hands that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and threw back the massive bolts But the door would not moveI pulled and pulled at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in its casementI could see the bolt shotIt had been locked after I left the Count Then a wild desire took me to obtain the key at any risk, and I determined then and there to scale the wall again, and gain the Count's roomHe might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of evilsWithout a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambled down the wall, as before, into the Count's roomIt was empty, but that was as I expectedI could not see a key anywhere, but the heap of gold remainedI went through the door in the corner and down the winding stair and along the dark passage to the old chapelI knew now well enough where to find the monster I sought The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but the lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails ready in their places to be hammered home I knew I must reach the body for the key, so I raised the lid, and laid it back against the wallAnd then I saw something which filled my very soul with horrorThere lay the Count, but looking as if his youth had been half restoredFor the white hair and moustache were changed to dark shop iron-grey

When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard a whispering at my doorI went to it softly and listenedUnless my ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count "Back! Back to your own place! Your time is not yet comeWait! Have patience! Tonight is mineTomorrow night is yours!" There was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open the door, and saw without the three terrible women licking their lipsAs I appeared, they all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away I came back to my room and threw myself on my kneesIt is then so near the end? Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I am dear! 30 June-These may be the last words I ever write in this diaryI slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the morning had comeThen came the welcome cockcrow, and I felt that I was safeWith a glad heart, I opened the door and ran down the hallI had seen that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before meWith hands that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and threw back the massive bolts But the door would not moveI pulled and pulled at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in its casementI could see the bolt shotIt had been locked after I left the Count Then a wild desire took me to obtain the key at any risk, and I determined then and there to scale the wall again, and gain the Count's roomHe might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of evilsWithout a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambled down the wall, as before, into the Count's roomIt was empty, but that was as I expectedI could not see a key anywhere, but the heap of gold remainedI went through the door in the corner and down the winding stair and along the dark passage to the old chapelI knew now well enough where to find the monster I sought The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but the lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails ready in their places to be hammered home I knew I must reach the body for the key, so I raised the lid, and laid it back against the wallAnd then I saw something which filled my very soul with horrorThere lay the Count, but looking as if his youth had been half restoredFor the white hair and moustache were changed to dark iron-greyThe cheeks were fuller, and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneathThe mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran down over the chin and neckEven the deep, burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh, for the lids and pouches underneath were bloatedIt seemed as if the whole awful creature were simply gorged with bloodHe lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion I shuddered as I bent over to touch him, and every sense in me revolted at the contact, but I had to search, or I was lostThe coming night might see my own body a banquet in a similar war to those horrid threeI felt all over the body, but no sign could I find of the shop key

?Get out! I believe, to my soul, you have!? said Legree, pushing her from him, and looking uncomfortably at her?After all, Cassy,? he said, ?why can?t you be friends with me, as you used to?? ?Used to!? said she, bitterlyShe stopped short,?a word of choking feelings, rising in her heart, kept her silent Cassy had always kept over Legree the kind of influence that a strong, impassioned woman can ever keep over the most brutal man; but, of late, she had grown more and more irritable and restless, under the hideous yoke of her servitude, and her irritability, at times, broke out into raving insanity; and this liability made her a sort of object of dread to Legree, who had that superstitious horror of insane persons which is common to coarse and uninstructed mindsWhen Legree brought Emmeline to the house, all the smouldering embers of womanly feeling flashed up in the worn heart of Cassy, and she took part with the girl; and a fierce quarrel ensued between her and LegreeLegree, in a fury, swore she should be put to field service, if she would not be peaceableCassy, with proud scorn, declared she would go to the fieldAnd she worked there one day, as we have described, to show how perfectly she scorned the threat Legree was secretly uneasy, all day; for Cassy had an influence over him from which he could not free himselfWhen she presented her basket at the scales, he had hoped for some concession, and addressed her in a sort of half conciliatory, half scornful tone; and she had answered with the bitterest contempt The outrageous treatment of poor Tom had roused her still more; and she had followed Legree to the house, with no particular intention, but to upbraid him for his brutality ?I wish, Cassy,? said Legree, ?you?d behave yourself decently ?You talk about behaving decently! And what have you been doing??you, who haven?t even sense enough to keep from spoiling one of your best hands, right in the most pressing season, just for your devilish temper!? ?I was a fool, it?s a fact, to let any such brangle come up,? said Legree; ?but, when the boy set up his will, he had to be broke in ?I reckon you won?t break him in!? ?Won?t I?? said Legree, rising, passionately?I?d like to know if I won?t? He?ll be the first nigger that ever came it round me! I?ll break every bone in his body, but he shall give up!? Just then the door opened, and Sambo enteredHe came forward, bowing, and holding out something in a paper ?What?s that, you dog?? said Legree ?It?s a witch thing, Mas?r!? ?A what?? ?Something that niggers gets from witchesKeeps ?em from feelin? when they ?s floggedHe had it tied round his neck, with a black string Legree, like most godless and cruel men, was superstitiousHe took the paper, and opened it uneasily There dropped out of it a silver dollar, and a long, shining curl of fair hair,?hair which, like a living thing, twined itself round Legree?s fingers ?Damnation!? he screamed, in sudden passion, stamping on the floor, and pulling furiously at the hair, as if it burned him?Where did this come from? Take it off!?burn it up!?burn it up!? he screamed, tearing it off, and throwing it into the charcoal?What did you bring it to me for?? Sambo stood, with his heavy mouth wide open, and aghast with wonder; and Cassy, who was preparing to leave the apartment, stopped, and looked at him in perfect amazement ?Don?t you bring me any more of your devilish things!? said he, shaking his fist at Sambo, who retreated hastily towards the door; and, picking up the silver dollar, he sent it smashing through the window-pane, out into the darkness Sambo was glad to make his escapeWhen he was gone, Legree seemed a little ashamed of his fit of alarmHe sat doggedly down in his chair, and began sullenly sipping his tumbler of punch Cassy prepared herself for going out, unobserved by him; and slipped away to minister to poor Tom, as we have already related And what was the matter with Legree? and what was there in a simple curl of fair hair to appall that brutal man, familiar with every form of cruelty? To answer this, we must carry the reader backward in his historyHard and reprobate as the godless man seemed now, there had been a time when he had been rocked on the bosom of a mother,?cradled with prayers and pious hymns,?his now seared brow bedewed with the waters of holy baptismIn early childhood, a fair-haired woman had led him, at the sound of Sabbath bell, to worship and to prayFar in New England that mother had trained her only son, with long, unwearied love, and patient prayersBorn of a hard-tempered sire, on whom that gentle woman had wasted a world of unvalued love, Legree had followed in the steps of his fatherBoisterous, unruly, and tyrannical, he despised all her counsel, and would none of her reproof; and, at an early age, broke from her, to seek his fortunes at seaHe never came home but once, after; and then, his mother, with the yearning of a heart that must love something, and has nothing else to love, clung to him, and sought, with passionate prayers and entreaties, to win him from a life of sin, to his soul?s eternal good That was Legree?s day of grace; then good angels called him; then he was almost persuaded, and mercy held him by the handHis heart inly relented,?there was a conflict,?but sin got the victory, and he set all the force of his rough nature against the conviction of his shop conscience

?What else could she spect on him?? said Aunt Chloe, indignantly, while the two boys, who now seemed to comprehend at once their father?s destiny, clung to her gown, sobbing and groaning vehemently ?I?m sorry,? said Tom, ?that Mas?r George happened to be away George had gone to spend two or three days with a companion on a neighboring estate, and having departed early in the morning, before Tom?s misfortune had been made public, had left without hearing of it ?Give my love to Mas?r George,? he said, earnestly Haley whipped up the horse, and, with a steady, mournful look, fixed to the last on the old place, Tom was whirled awayShelby at this time was not at homeHe had sold Tom under the spur of a driving necessity, to get out of the power of a man whom he dreaded,?and his first feeling, after the consummation of the bargain, had been that of reliefBut his wife?s expostulations awoke his half-slumbering regrets; and Tom?s manly disinterestedness increased the unpleasantness of his feelingsIt was in vain that he said to himself that he had a right to do it,?that everybody did it,?and that some did it without even the excuse of necessity;?he could not satisfy his own feelings; and that he might not witness the unpleasant scenes of the consummation, he had gone on a short business tour up the country, hoping that all would be over before he returned Tom and Haley rattled on along the dusty road, whirling past every old familiar spot, until the bounds of the estate were fairly passed, and they found themselves out on the open pikeAfter they had ridden about a mile, Haley suddenly drew up at the door of a blacksmith?s shop, when, taking out with him a pair of handcuffs, he stepped into the shop, to have a little alteration in them ?These yer ?s a little too small for his build,? said Haley, showing the fetters, and pointing out to Tom ?Lor! now, if thar an?t Shelby?s TomHe han?t sold him, now?? said the smith ?Yes, he has,? said Haley ?Now, ye don?t! well, reely,? said the smith, ?who?d a thought it! Why, ye needn?t go to fetterin? him up this yer wayHe?s the faithfullest, best crittur?? ?Yes, yes,? said Haley; ?but your good fellers are just the critturs to want ter run offThem stupid ones, as doesn?t care whar they go, and shifless, drunken ones, as don?t care for nothin?, they?ll stick by, and like as not be rather pleased to be toted round; but these yer prime fellers, they hates it like sinNo way but to fetter ?em; got legs,?they?ll use ?em,?no mistake ?Well,? said the smith, feeling among his tools, ?them plantations down thar, stranger, an?t jest the place a Kentuck nigger wants to go to; they dies thar tol?able fast, don?t they?? ?Wal, yes, tol?able fast, ther dying is; what with the ?climating and one thing and another, they dies so as to keep the market up pretty brisk,? said Haley ?Wal, now, a feller can?t help thinkin? it?s a mighty pity to have a nice, quiet, likely feller, as good un as Tom is, go down to be fairly ground up on one of them ar sugar plantations ?Wal, he?s got a fa?r chanceI promised to do well by himI?ll get him in house-servant in some good old family, and then, if he stands the fever and ?climating, he?ll have a berth good as any nigger ought ter ask for ?He leaves his wife and chil?en up here, s?pose?? ?Yes; but he?ll get another tharLord, thar?s women enough everywhar,? said Haley Tom was sitting very mournfully on the outside of the shop while this conversation was going onSuddenly he heard the quick, short click of a horse?s hoof behind him; and, before he could fairly awake from his surprise, young Master George sprang into the wagon, threw his arms tumultuously round his neck, and was sobbing and scolding with energy ?I declare, it?s real mean! I don?t care what they say, any of ?em! It?s a nasty, mean shame! If I was a man, they shouldn?t do it,?they should not, so!? said George, with a kind of subdued howl ?O! Mas?r George! this does me good!? said Tom?I couldn?t bar to go off without seein? ye! It does me real good, ye can?t tell!? Here Tom made some movement of his feet, and George?s eye fell on the fetters ?What a shame!? he exclaimed, lifting his hands?I?ll knock that old fellow down?I will!? ?No you won?t, Mas?r George; and you must not talk so loudIt won?t help me any, to anger him ?Well, I won?t, then, for your sake; but only to think of it?isn?t it a shame? They never sent for me, nor sent me any word, and, if it hadn?t been for Tom Lincon, I shouldn?t have heard itI tell you, I blew ?em up well, all of ?em, at home!? ?That ar wasn?t right, I?m ?feard, Mas?r George ?Can?t help it! I say it?s a shame! Look here, Uncle Tom,? said he, turning his back to the shop, and speaking in a mysterious tone, ?I?ve brought you my dollar!? ?O! I couldn?t think o? takin? on ?t, Mas?r George, no ways in the world!? said Tom, quite moved ?But you shall take it!? said George; ?look here?I told Aunt Chloe I?d do it, and she advised me just to make a hole in it, and put a string through, so you could hang it round your neck, and keep it out of sight; else this mean scamp would take it awayI tell ye, Tom, I want to blow him up! it would do me good!? ?No, don?t Mas?r George, for it won?t do me any good ?Well, I won?t, for your sake,? said George, busily tying his dollar round Tom?s neck; ?but there, now, button your coat tight over it, and keep it, and remember, every time you see it, that I?ll come down after you, and bring you shop back