英语天堂-第77部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


atching；　betook　himself　to　life　in　one　of　the　new　settlements；　where　his　talents　developed　themselves　more　happily　in　trapping　bears；　wolves；　and　other　inhabitants　of　the　forest；　in　which　he　made　himself　quite　a　name　in　the　land。　Tom　always　spoke　reverently　of　the　Quakers。　“Nice　people；”　he　would　say；　“wanted　to　convert　me；　but　couldn’t　come　it；　exactly。　But；　tell　ye　what；　stranger；　they　do　fix　up　a　sick　fellow　first　rate；—no　mistake。　Make　jist　the　tallest　kind　o’　broth　and　knicknacks。”
As　Tom　had　informed　them　that　their　party　would　be　looked　for　in　Sandusky；　it　was　thought　prudent　to　divide　them。　Jim；　with　his　old　mother；　was　forwarded　separately；　and　a　night　or　two　after；　George　and　Eliza；　with　their　child；　were　driven　privately　into　Sandusky；　and　lodged　beneath　a　hospital　roof；　preparatory　to　taking　their　last　passage　on　the　lake。
Their　night　was　now　far　spent；　and　the　morning　star　of　liberty　rose　fair　before　them！—electric　word！　What　is　it？　Is　there　anything　more　in　it　than　a　name—a　rhetorical　flourish？　Why；　men　and　women　of　America；　does　your　heart’s　blood　thrill　at　that　word；　for　which　your　fathers　bled；　and　your　braver　mothers　were　willing　that　their　noblest　and　best　should　die？
Is　there　anything　in　it　glorious　and　dear　for　a　nation；　that　is　not　also　glorious　and　dear　for　a　man？　What　is　freedom　to　a　nation；　but　freedom　to　the　individuals　in　it？　What　is　freedom　to　that　young　man；　who　sits　there；　with　his　arms　folded　over　his　broad　chest；　the　tint　of　African　blood　in　his　cheek；　its　dark　fires　in　his　eyes；—what　is　freedom　to　George　Harris？　To　your　fathers；　freedom　was　the　right　of　a　nation　to　be　a　nation。　To　him；　it　is　the　right　of　a　man　to　be　a　man；　and　not　a　brute；　the　right　to　call　the　wife　of　his　bosom　is　wife；　and　to　protect　her　from　lawless　violence；　the　right　to　protect　and　educate　his　child；　the　right　to　have　a　home　of　his　own；　a　religion　of　his　own；　a　character　of　his　own；　unsubject　to　the　will　of　another。　All　these　thoughts　were　rolling　and　seething　in　George’s　breast；　as　he　was　pensively　leaning　his　head　on　his　hand；　watching　his　wife；　as　she　was　adapting　to　her　slender　and　pretty　form　the　articles　of　man’s　attire；　in　which　it　was　deemed　safest　she　should　make　her　escape。
“Now　for　it；”　said　she；　as　she　stood　before　the　glass；　and　shook　down　her　silky　abundance　of　black　curly　hair。　“I　say；　George；　it’s　almost　a　pity；　isn’t　it；”　she　said；　as　she　held　up　some　of　it；　playfully；—“pity　it’s　all　got　to　come　off？”
George　smiled　sadly；　and　made　no　answer。
Eliza　turned　to　the　glass；　and　the　scissors　glittered　as　one　long　lock　after　another　was　detached　from　her　head。
“There；　now；　that’ll　do；”　she　said；　taking　up　a　hair…brush；　“now　for　a　few　fancy　touches。”
“There；　an’t　I　a　pretty　young　fellow？”　she　said；　turning　around　to　her　husband；　laughing　and　blushing　at　the　same　time。
“You　always　will　be　pretty；　do　what　you　will；”　said　George。
“What　does　make　you　so　sober？”　said　Eliza；　kneeling　on　one　knee；　and　laying　her　hand　on　his。　“We　are　only　within　twenty…four　hours　of　Canada；　they　say。　Only　a　day　and　a　night　on　the　lake；　and　then—oh；　then！—”
“O；　Eliza！”　said　George；　drawing　her　towards　him；　“that　is　it！　Now　my　fate　is　all　narrowing　down　to　a　point。　To　come　so　near；　to　be　almost　in　sight；　and　then　lose　all。　I　should　never　live　under　it；　Eliza。”
“Don’t　fear；”　said　his　wife；　hopefully。　“The　good　Lord　would　not　have　brought　us　so　far；　if　he　didn’t　mean　to　carry　us　through。　I　seem　to　feel　him　with　us；　George。”
“You　are　a　blessed　woman；　Eliza！”　said　George；　clasping　her　with　a　convulsive　grasp。　“But；—oh；　tell　me！　can　this　great　mercy　be　for　us？　Will　these　years　and　years　of　misery　come　to　an　end？—shall　we　be　free？
“I　am　sure　of　it；　George；”　said　Eliza；　looking　upward；　while　tears　of　hope　and　enthusiasm　shone　on　her　long；　dark　lashes。　“I　feel　it　in　me；　that　God　is　going　to　bring　us　out　of　bondage；　this　very　day。”
“I　will　believe　you；　Eliza；”　said　George；　rising　suddenly　up；　“I　will　believe；—come　let’s　be　off。　Well；　indeed；”　said　he；　holding　her　off　at　arm’s　length；　and　looking　admiringly　at　her；　“you　are　a　pretty　little　fellow。　That　crop　of　little；　short　curls；　is　quite　becoming。　Put　on　your　cap。　So—a　little　to　one　side。　I　never　saw　you　look　quite　so　pretty。　But；　it’s　almost　time　for　the　carriage；—I　wonder　if　Mrs。　Smyth　has　got　Harry　rigged？”
The　door　opened；　and　a　respectable；　middle…aged　woman　entered；　leading　little　Harry；　dressed　in　girl’s　clothes。
“What　a　pretty　girl　he　makes；”　said　Eliza；　turning　him　round。　“We　call　him　Harriet；　you　see；—don’t　the　name　come　nicely？”
The　child　stood　gravely　regarding　his　mother　in　her　new　and　strange　attire；　observing　a　profound　silence；　and　ocomasionally　drawing　deep　sighs；　and　peeping　at　her　from　under　his　dark　curls。
“Does　Harry　know　mamma？”　said　Eliza；　stretching　her　hands　toward　him。
The　child　clung　shyly　to　the　woman。
“Come　Eliza；　why　do　you　try　to　coax　him；　when　you　know　that　he　has　got　to　be　kept　away　from　you？”
“I　know　it’s　foolish；”　said　Eliza；　“yet；　I　can’t　bear　to　have　him　turn　away　from　me。　But　come；—where’s　my　cloak？　Here；—how　is　it　men　put　on　cloaks；　George？”
“You　must　wear　it　so；”　said　her　husband；　throwing　it　over　his　shoulders。
“So；　then；”　said　Eliza；　imitating　the　motion；—“and　I　must　stamp；　and　take　long　steps；　and　try　to　look　saucy。”
“Don’t　exert　yourself；”　said　George。　“There　is；　now　and　then；　a　modest　young　man；　and　I　think　it　would　be　easier　for　you　to　act　that　character。”
“And　these　gloves！　mercy　upon　us！”　said　Eliza；　“why；　my　hands　are　lost　in　them。”
“I　advise　you　to　keep　them　on　pretty　strictly；”　said　George。　“Your　slender　paw　might　bring　us　all　out。　Now；　Mrs。　Smyth；　you　are　to　go　under　our　charge；　and　be　our　aunty；—you　mind。”
“I’ve　heard；”　said　Mrs。　Smyth；　“that　there　have　been　men　down；　warning　all　the　packet　captains　against　a　man　and　woman；　with　a　little　boy。”
“They　have！”　said　George。　“Well；　if　we　see　any　such　people；　we　can　tell　them。”
A　hack　now　drove　to　the　door；　and　the　friendly　family　who　had　received　the　fugitives　crowded　around　them　with　farewell　greetings。
The　disguises　the　party　had　assumed　were　in　acomordance　with　the　hints　of　Tom　Loker。　Mrs。　Smyth；　a　respectable　woman　from　the　settlement　in　Canada；　whither　they　were　fleeing；　being　fortunately　about　crossing　the　lake　to　return　thither；　had　consented　to　appear　as　the　aunt　of　little　Harry；　and；　in　order　to　attach　him　to　her；　he　had　been　allowed　to　remain；　the　two　last　days；　under　her　sole　charge；　and　an　extra　amount　of　petting；　jointed　to　an　indefinite　amount　of　seed…cakes　and　candy；　had　cemented　a　very　close　attachment　on　the　part　of　the　young　gentleman。
The　hack　drove　to　the　wharf。　The　two　young　men；　as　they　appeared；　walked　up　the　plank　into　the　boat；　Eliza　gallantly　giving　her　arm　to　Mrs。　Smyth；　and　George　attending　to　their　baggage。
George　was　standing　at　the　captain’s　office；　settling　for　his　party；　when　he　overheard　two　men　talking　by　his　side。
“I’ve　watched　every　one　that　came　on　board；”　said　one；　“and　I　know　they’re　not　on　this　boat。”
The　voice　was　that　of　the　clerk　of　the　boat。　The　speaker　whom　he　addressed　was　our　sometime　friend　Marks；　who；　with　that　valuable　perservance　which　characterized　him；　had　come　on　to　Sandusky；　seeking　whom　he　might　devour。
“You　would　scarcely　know　the　woman　from　a　white　one；”　said　Marks。　“The　man　is　a　very　light　mulatto；　he　has　a　brand　in　one　of　his　hands。”
The　hand　with　which　George　was　taking　the　tickets　and　change　trembled　a　little；　but　he　turned　coolly　around；　fixed　an　unconcerned　glance　on　the　face　of　the　speaker；　and　walked　leisurely　toward　another　part　of　the　boat；　where　Eliza　stood　waiting　for　him。
Mrs。　Smyth；　with　little　Harry；　sought　the　seclusion　of　the　ladies’　cabin；　where　the　dark　beauty　of　the　supposed　little　girl　drew　many　flattering　comments　from　the　passengers。
George　had　the　satisfaction；　as　the　bell　rang　out　its　farewell　peal；　to　see　Marks　walk　down　the　plank　to　the　shore；　and　drew　a　long　sigh　of　relief；　when　the　boat　had　put　a　returnless　distance　between　them。
It　was　a　superb　day。　The　blue　waves　of　Lake　Erie　danced；　rippling　and　sparkling；　in　the　sun…light。　A　fresh　breeze　blew　from　the　shore；　and　the　lordly　boat　ploughed　her　way　right　gallantly　onward。
O；　what　an　untold　world　there　is　in　one　human　heart！　Who　thought；　as　George　walked　calmly　up　and　down　the　deck　of　the　steamer；　with　his　shy　companion　at　his　side；　of　all　that　was　burning　in　his　bosom？　The　mighty　good　that　seemed　approaching　seemed　too　good；　too　fair；　even　to　be　a　reality；　and　he　felt　a　jealous　dread；　every　moment　of　the　day；　that　something　would　rise　to　snatch　it　from　him。
But　the　boat　swept　on。　Hours　fleeted；　and；　at　last；　clear　and　full　rose　the　blessed　English　shores；　shores　charmed　by　a　mighty　spell；—with　one　touch　to　dissolve　every　incantation　of　slavery；　no　matter　in　what　language　pronounced；　or　by　what　national　power　confirmed。
George　and　his　wife　stood　arm　in　arm；　as　the　boat　neared　the　small　town　of　Amherstberg；　in　Canada。　His　breath　grew　thick　and　short；　a　mist　gathered　before　his　eyes；　he　silently　pressed　the　little　hand　that　lay　trembling　on　his　arm。　The　bell　rang；　the　boat　stopped。　Scarcely　seeing　what　he　did；　he　looked　out　his　baggage；　and　gathered　his　little　party。　The　little　company　were　landed　on　the　shore。　They　stood　still　till　the　boat　had　cleared；　and　then；　with　tears　and　embracings；　the　husband　and　wife；　with　their　wondering　child　in　their　arms；　knelt　down　and　lifted　up　their　hearts　to　God！
“’T　was　something　like　the　burst　from　death　to　life；
From　the　grave’s　cerements　to　the　robes　of　heaven；
From　sin’s　dominion；　and　from　passion’s　strife；
To　the　pure　freedom　of　a　soul　forgiven；
Where　all　the　bonds　of　death　and　hell　are　riven；
And　mortal　puts　on　immortality；
When　Mercy’s　hand　hath　turned　the　golden　key；
And　Mercy’s　voice　hath　said；　Rejoice；　thy　soul　is　free。”
The　little　party　were　soon　guided；　by　Mrs。　Smyth；　to　the　hospitable　abode　of　a　good　missionary；　whom　Christian　charity　has　placed　here　as　a　shepherd　to　the　outcast　and　wandering；　who　are　constantly　finding　an　asylum　on　this　shore。
Who　can　speak　the　blessedness　of　that　first　day　of　freedom？　Is　not　the　sense　of　liberty　a　higher　and　a　finer　one　than　any　of　the　five？　To　move；　speak　and　breathe；—go　out　and　come　in　unwatched；　and　free　from　danger！　Who　can　speak　the　blessings　of　that　rest　which　comes　down　on　the　free　man’s　pillow；　under　laws　which　insure　to　him　the　rights　that　God　has　given　to　man？　How　fair　and　precious　to　that　mother　was　that　sleeping　child’s　face；　endeared　by　the　memory　of　a　thousand　dangers！　How　impossible　was　it　to　sleep；　in　the　exuberant　posession　of　such　blessedness！　And　yet；　these　two　had　not　one　acre　of　ground；—not　a　roof　that　they　could　call　their　own；—they　had　spent　their　all；　to　the　last　dollar。　They　had　nothing　more　than　the　birds　of　the　air；　or　the　flowers　of　the　field；—yet　they　could　not　sleep　for　joy。　“O；　ye　who　take　freedom　from　man；　with　what　words　shall　ye　answer　it　to　God？”
1　John　Philpot　Curran　（1750…1817）；　Irish　orator　and　judge　who　worked　for　Catholic　emancipation。
Chapter　38
The　Victory
“Thanks　be　unto　God；　who　giveth　us　the　victory。”1
Have　not　many　of　us；　in　the　weary　way　of　life；　felt；　in　some　hours；　how　far　easier　it　were　to　die　than　to　live？
The　martyr；　when　faced　even　by　a　death　of　bodily　anguish　and　horror；　finds　in　the　very　terror　of　his　doom　a　strong　stimulant　and　tonic。　There　is　a　vivid　excitement；　a　thrill　and　fervor；　which　may　carry　through　any　crisis　of　suffering　that　is　the　birth…hour　of　eternal　glory　and　rest。
But　to　live；—to　wear　on；　day　after　day；　of　mean；　bitter；　low；　harassing　servitude；　every　nerve　dampened　and　depressed；　every　power　of　feeling　gradually　smothered；—this　long　and　wasting　heart…martyrdom；　this　slow；　daily　bleeding　away　of　the　inward　life；　drop　by　drop；　hour　after　hour；—this　is　the　true　searching　test　of　what　there　may　be　in　man　or　woman。
When　Tom　stood　face　to　face　with　his　persecutor；　and　heard　his　threats；　and　thought　in　his　very　soul　that　his　hour　was　come；　his　heart　swelled　bravely　in　him；　and　he　thought　he　could　bear　torture　and　fire；　bear　anything；　with　the　vision　of　Jesus　and　heaven　but　just　a　step　beyond；　but；　when　he　was　gone；　and　the　present　excitement　passed　off；　came　back　the　pain　of　his　bruised　and　weary　limbs；—came　back　the　sense　of　his　utterly　degraded；　hopeless；　forlorn　estate；　and　the　day　passed　wearily　enough。
Long　before　his　wounds　were　healed；　Legree　insisted　that　he　should　be　put　to　the　regular　field…work；　and　then　came　day　after　day　of　pain　and　weariness；　aggravated　by　every　kind　of　injustice　and　indignity　that　the　ill…will　of　a　mean　and　malicious　mind　could　devise。　Whoever；　in　our　circumstances；　has　made　trial　of　pain；　even　with　all　the　alleviations　which；　for　us；　usually　attend　it；　must　know　the　irritation　that　comes　with　it。　Tom　no　longer　wondered　at　the　habitual　surliness　of　his　associates；　nay；　he　found　the　placid；　sunny　temper；　which　had　been　the　habitude　of　his　life；　broken　in　on；　and　sorely　strained；　by　the　inroads　of　the　same　thing。　He　had　flattered　himself　on　leisure　to　read　his　Bible；　but　there　was　no　such　thing　as　leisure　there。　In　the　height　of　the　season；　Legree　did　not　hesitate　to　press　all　his　hands　through；　Sundays　and　week…days　alike。　Why　shouldn’t　he？—he　made　more　cotton　by　it；　and　gained　his　wager；　and　if　it　wore　out　a　few　more　hands；　he　could　buy　better　ones。　At　first；　Tom　used　to　read　a　verse　or　two　of　his　Bible；　by　the　flicker　of　the　fire；　after　he　had　returned　from　his　daily　toil；　but；　after　the　cruel　treatment　he　received；　he　used　to　come　home　so　exhausted；　that　his　head　swam　and　his　eyes　failed　when　he　tried　to　read；　and　he　was　fain　to　stretch　himself　down；　with　the　others；　in　utter　exhaustion。
Is　it　strange　that　the　religious　peace　and　trust；　which　had　upborne　him　hitherto；　should　give　way　to　tossings　of　soul　and　despondent　darkness？　The　gloomiest　problem　of　this　mysterious　life　was　constantly　before　his　eyes；—souls　crushed　and　ruined；　evil　triumphant；　and　God　silent。　It　was　weeks　and　months　that　Tom　wrestled；　in　his　own　soul；　in　darkness　and　sorrow。　He　thought　of　Miss　Ophelia’s　letter　to　his　Kentucky　friends；　and　would　pray　earnestly　that　God　would　send　him　deliverance。　And　then　he　would　watch；　day　after　day；　in　the　vague　hope　of　seeing　somebody　sent　to　redeem　him；　and；　when　nobody　came；　he　would　crush　back　to　his　soul　bitter　thoughts；—that　it　was　vain　to　serve　God；　that　God　had　forgotten　him。　He　sometimes　saw　Cassy；　and　sometimes；　when　summoned　to　the　house；　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　dejected　form　of　Emmeline；　but　held　very　little　communion　with　either；　in　fact；　there　was　no　time　for　him　to　commune　with　anybody。
One　evening；　he　was　sitting；　in　utter　dejection　and　prostration；　by　a　few　decaying　brands；　where　his　coarse　supper　was　baking。　He　put　a　few　bits　of　brushwood　on　the　fire；　and　strove　to　raise　the　light；　and　then　drew　his　worn　Bible　from　his　pocket。　There　were　all　the　marked　passages；　which　had　thrilled　his　soul　so　often；—words　of　patriarchs　and　seers；　poets　and　sages；　who　from　early　time　had　spoken　courage　to　man；—voices　from　the　great　cloud　of　witnesses　who　ever　surround　us　in　the　race　of　life。　Had　the　word　lost　its　power；　or　could　the　failing　eye　and　weary　sense　no　longer　answer　to　the　touch　of　tha