Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe, Original Edition | Liberty - Chapter 13

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Dream Audio Books Presents Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet beecher Stowe,
Chapter thirteen, The Quaker Settlement. A quiet scene now rises
before us. A large roomy, neatly painted kitchen, its yellow floor,
glossy and smooth and without a particle of dust. A
neat well blacked cooking stove, rows of shining tin suggestive

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of unmentionable good things to the appetite. Glossy green wood chairs,
old and firm, A small flag bottomed rocking chair with
a patchwork cushion in it, neatly contrived out of small
pieces of different colored woolen goods, and a larger sized one,
motherly and old, whose wide arms breathed hospitable invitation, seconded

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by the solicitation of its feather cushions, A real, comfortable,
persuasive old chair, and worth in the way of honest
homely enjoyment. A dozen of your plush or brochetel drawing
room gentry, and in the chair, gently swaying back and forward,
her eyes bent on some fine sewing sat our fine

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old friend, Eliza. Yes there she is paler and thinner
than in her Kentucky home, with a world of quiet sorrow,
lying under the shadow of her long eyelashes, and marking
the outline of her gentle mouth, it was plain to
see how old and firm the girlish heart was grown
under the discipline of heavy sorrow, and when anon her

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large dark eye was raised to follow the gambols of
her little harry, who was sporting like some tropical butterfly,
hither and thither over the floor. She showed a depth
of firmness and steady resolve, but was never there in
her earlier and happier days. By her side sat a
woman with a bright tin pan in her lap, into

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which she was carefully sorting some dried peaches. She might
be fifty five or sixty, but hers was one of
those faces that time seems to touch, only to brighten
and adorn. The snowy, leasey crape cap made after the
straight Quaker pattern, the plain white muslin handkerchief lying in
placid folds across her bosom. The drab shawl and dress

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showed at once the community to which she belonged. Her
face was round and rosy, with a healthful, downy softness
suggestive of a ripe peach. Her hair, partially silvered by age,
was parted smoothly back from a high, placid forehead on
which time had written no inscription except peace on earth,

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good will to men. And beneath shone a large pair
of clear, honest, loving brown eyes. You only needed to
look straight into them to feel that you saw to
the bottom of a heart as good and true as
ever throbbed in woman's bosom. So much has been said
and sung of beautiful young girls. Why don't somebody wake

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up to the beauty of old women. If any want
to get up an inspiration under this head, we refer
them to our good friend Rachel Halliday. Just as she
sits there in her little rocking chair, it had a
turn for quacking and squeaking. That chair had either from
having taken cold in early life, or from some asthmatic affection,

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or perhaps from nervous derangement. But as she gently swung
backward and forward, the chair kept up a kind of subdued,
creechy crotchy that would have been intolerable in any other chair,
But old Simeon Halliday often declared it was as good
as any music to him, and the children all avowed
that they wouldn't miss of hearing mother's chair for anything

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in the world. For why for twenty years or more,
nothing but loving words and gentle moralities and motherly loving
kindness had come from that chair. Headaches and heart aches
innumerable had been cured there, difficulties spiritual and temporal solved there,
all by one good, loving woman, God bless her. And

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so THEE still thinks of going to Canada, Eliza, she said,
as she was quietly looking over her peaches. Yes, ma'am,
said Eliza, firmly. I must go onward. I dare not stop.
And what'll THEE do when THEE gets there? THEE must
think about that my daughter, My daughter came naturally from

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the lips of Rachel Halliday, for hers was just the
face and form that made mother seem the most natural
word in the world. Eliza's hands trembled and some tears
fell on her fine work, which she answered firmly. I
shall do anything I can find. I hope I can
find something. THEE knows. THEE can stay here as long

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as THEE pleases, said Rachel. Oh, thank you, said Eliza,
But she pointed to Harry. I can't sleep nights, I
can't rest. Last night I dreamed I saw the la
man comin into the yard, she said, shuddering. Poor child,
said Rachel, wiping her eyes. But THEE mustn't feel so.

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The Lord hath ordered it so that never hath a
fugitive been stolen from our village. I trust thine will
not be the first. The door here opened, and a little, short,
round pincushiony woman stood at the door, with a cheery,
blooming face like a ripe apple. She was dressed, like Rachel,
in a sober gray with a muslin folded neatly across

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her round, plump little chest. Ruth's statement, said Rachel, coming
joyfully forward. How is thee, Ruth? She said, heartily, taking
both her hands. Nicely, said Ruth, taking off her little
drab bonnet and dusting it with her handkerchief, displaying as
she did so a round little head on which the
Quaker cap sat with a sort of jaunty air. Despite

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all the stroking and patting of the small fat hands
which were busily applied to arranging it, certain stray locks
of decidedly curly hair too had escaped here and there,
and had to be coaxed and cajoled into their place again.
And then the new owner, who might have been five
and twenty, turned from the small looking glass before which

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she had been making these arrangements and looked well pleased,
as most people who looked at her might have been,
for she was decidedly a wholesome, wholehearted, chirruping little woman
as ever gladdened man's heart withal Ruth, this friend is
Eliza Harris, and this is the little boy I told
thee of I am glad to see thee Eliza very,

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said Ruth, shaking hands as if Eliza were an old
friend she had long been expecting. And this is thy
dear boy. I brought a cake for him, she said,
holding out a little heart to the boy, who came up,
gazing through his curls, and accepted it shyly. Where's thy baby,
Ruth said Rachel. Oh, he's coming, But thy Mary caught

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him as I came in, and ran off with him
to the bar to show him to the children. At
this moment the door opened, and Mary, an honest, rosy
looking girl with large brown eyes like her mother's, came
in with the baby. Ah ha, said Rachel, coming up
and taking the great white fat fellow in her arms.
How good he looks, and how he does grow. To

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be sure, he does, said little bustling Ruth, as she
took the child and began taking off a little blue
silk hood, and various layers and wrappers of outer garments.
And having given a twitch here and a pool there,
and variously adjusted and arranged him, and kissed him heartily,
she set him on the floor to collect his thoughts.
Baby seemed quite used to this mode of proceeding, for

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he put his thumb in his mouth as if it
were quite a thing, of course, and seemed soon absorbed
in his own reflections, while the mother seated herself, and
taking out a long stalking of mixed blue and white yarn,
began to knit with briskness. Mary, thee'd better fill the kettle,
hadn't thee, gently said, jested the mother. Mary took the

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kettle to the well, and, soon reappearing, placed it over
the stove, where it was soon purring and steaming, a
sort of center of hospitality and good cheer. The peaches, moreover,
in obedience to a few gentle whispers from Rachel, were
soon deposited by the same hand in a stewpan over
the fire. Rachel now took down a snowy molding board

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and tying on an apron, proceeded quietly to making up
some biscuits, first saying to Mary, Mary, hadn't THEE better
tell John to get a chicken ready? And Mary disappeared accordingly.
And now is Abigail Peters, said Rachel, as she went
on with her biscuits. Oh, she's better, said Ruth. I

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was in this morning, made the bed, tied it up
the house. Leah Hills went in this afternoon and baked
red and pies enough to last some days. And I
engaged to go back to get her up this evening.
I will go in tomorrow and do any cleaning there
may be, and look over the mending, said Rachel. Ah

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that is well, said Ruth. I've heard. She added that
Hannah Stanwood is sick. John was up there last night.
I must go there tomorrow. John can come in here
to his meals if THEE needs to stay all day,
suggested Rachel. Thank THEE. Rachel, we'll see tomorrow. But here
comes Simeon. Simeon Halliday, a tall, straight, muscular man in

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drab cooat and pantaloons and broad brimmed hat, now entered.
How is THEE, Ruth? He said warmly, as he spread
his broad open hand for her little fat palm. And
how is John, Oh, John is well, and all the
rest of our folks, said Ruth cheerily. Any news, father,
said Rachel, as she was putting her biscuits into the oven.

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Peter Stebbins told me that they should be along tonight
with friends, said Simeon significantly, as he was washing his
hands at a neat sink in a little back porch. Indeed,
said Rachel, looking thoughtfully and glancing at Eliza, did THEE
say thy name was Harris, said Simeon to Eliza as
he re entered. Rachel glanced quickly at her husband, as

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Eliza tremulously answered yes, her fears ever uppermost, suggesting that
possibly there might be advertisements out for her mother, said Simeon,
standing in the porch and calling Rachel out. What does
THEE want, father, said Rachel, rubbing her flowery hands as
she went into the porch. This child's husband is in

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the sentlement and will be here to night, said Simeon.
Now THEE doesn't know that, father, said Rachel, all her
face radiant with joy. It's really true. Peter was down
yesterday with the wagon to the other stand, and there
he found an old woman and two men, and one
said his name was George Harris, and from what he

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told of his history, I am certain who he is.
He is a bright lightly fellow too. Shall we tell
her now, said Simeon. Let's tell Ruth, said Rachel. Here, Ruth,
come here. Ruth laid down her knitting work and was
in the back porch in a moment. Ruth, what does
THEE think? Said Rachel. Father says Eliza's husband is in

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the last company, and we'll be here to night. A
burst of joy from the little quakeress interrupted the speech.
She gave such a bound from the floor as she
clapped her little hands that two stray curls fell from
under her Quaker cap and lay brightly on her white neckerchief. Hush, thee, dear,
said Rachel gently. Hush, Ruth, tell us, shall we tell

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her now now? To be sure? This very minute? Why
now suppose twas why John, how should I feel? Do
tell her right off? THEE uses thyself only to learn
how to love thy neighbor, Ruth, said Simeon, looking with
a beaming face on Ruth. To be sure, isn't it
what we are made for If I didn't love John

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and the baby, I should not know how to feel
for her. Come now, do tell her? Do and she
laid her hands persuasively on Rachel's arm. Take her into
thy bedroom there and let me fry the chicken while
THEE does it. Rachel came out into the kitchen where
Eliza was sewing, and opening the door of a small bedroom,
said gently, come in here with me, my daughter. I

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have news to tell THEE. The blood flushed in Eliza's
pale face. She rose, trembling with nervous anxiety, and looked
towards her boy. No, no, said little Ruth, darting up
and seizing her hands. Never THEE fear. It's good news, Eliza,
go in, Go in, and she gently pushed her to
the door, which closed after her, and then turning round,

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she caught little Harry in her arms and began kissing him.
Thee'll see thy father, little one. Does THEE know it?
Thy father is coming, she said, over and over again,
as the boy looked wonderingly at her. Meanwhile, within the door,
another scene was going on. Rachel Halliday drew Eliza toward
her and said, the Lord hath had mercy on thee

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daughter thy husband hath escaped from the house of bondage.
The blood flushed to Eliza's cheek in a sudden glow,
and went back to her heart with as sudden a rush.
She sat down, pale and faint. Have courage, child, said Rachel,
laying her hand on her head. He is among friends
who will bring him here to night to night, Eliza repeated,

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to night. The words lost all meaning to her. Her
head was dreamy and confused. All was missed for a moment.
When she awoke, she found herself snugly tucked up on
the bed, with a blanket over her, and little Ruth
rubbing her hands with camphor. She opened her eyes in
a state of dreamy, delicious languor, such as one who
has long been bearing a heavy load and now feels

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it gone and would rest. The tension of the nerves,
which had never ceased a moment since the first hour
of her flight, had given way, and a strange feeling
of security and rest came over her. And as she
lay with her large, dark eyes open, she followed, as
in a quiet dream, the motions of those about her.
She saw the door open into the other room, saw

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the supper table with its snowy cloth, heard the dreamy
murmur of the singing tea kettle, saw Ruth tripping backward
and forward with plates of cake and saucers of preserves,
and ever and Anon stopping to put a cake into
Harry's hand, or pat his head, or twine his long
curls round her snowy fingers. She saw the ample motherly

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form of Rachel as she ever and Anon came to
the bedside and smoothed and arranged something about the bedclothes,
and gave a tuck here and there by way of
expressing her good will, And was conscious of a kind
of sunshine beaming down upon her from her large, clear
brown eyes. She saw Ruth's husband come in, saw her
fly up to him and commence whispering very earnestly. Ever

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and Anon, with impressive gesture, pointing her little finger toward
the room. She saw her with d the baby in
her arms, sitting down to tea. She saw them all
at table, and little Harry in a high chair under
the shadow of Rachel's ample wing. There were low murmurs
of talk, gentle tinkling of tea spoons, and musical clatter
of cups and saucers, and all mingled in a delightful

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dream of rest. And Eliza slept, and she had not
slept before since the fearful midnight hour, when she had
taken her child and fled through the frosty starlight. She
dreamed of a beautiful country, a land, it seemed to her,
of rest, green shores, pleasant islands, and beautifully glittering water.

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And there, in a house which kind voices told her
was a home, she saw her boy playing free and
happy child. She heard her husband's footsteps, she felt him
coming nearer. His arms were around her, his tears falling
on her face, and she awoke. It was no dream.
The daylight had long faded. Her child lay calmly sleeping

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by her side. A candle was burning dimly on the stand,
and her husband was sobbing by her pillow. The next
morning was a cheerful one at the Quaker house. Mother
was up betimes and surrounded by busy girls and boys
whom we had scarce time to introduce to our readers yesterday,
and who all moved obediently to Rachel's gentle THEE had

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better or more gentle? Hadn't THEE better? In the work
of getting breakfast. For a breakfast in the luxurious valleys
of Indiana is a thing complicated in multiform and like
picking up the rose leaves and trimming the bushes in paradise,
asking other hands than those of the original mother. While
therefore John ran to the spring for fresh water, and

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Simeon the second sifted meal for corn cakes and merry
ground coffee, Rachel moved gently and quietly about making biscuits,
cutting up chicken, and diffusing a sort of sunny radiance
over the whole proceeding. Generally, if there was any danger
of friction or collision from the ill regulated zeal of
so many young operators, her gentle come come, or I

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wouldn't now was quite sufficient to allay the difficulty. Bards
have written of the cestus of Venus that turned the
heads of all the world in successive generations. We had rather,
for our part, have the cestus of Rachel Halliday that
kept heads from being turned and made everything go on harmoniously.

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We think it is more suited to our modern days. Decidedly,
while all other preparations were going on, Simeon the Elder
stood in his shirt sleeves before a little looking glass
in the corner, engaged in the anti patriarchal operation of shaving.
Everything went on so sociably, so quietly, so harmoniously. In
the great kitchen. It seemed so pleasant to every one

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to do just what they were doing. There was such
an atmosphere of mutual confidence and good fellowship everywhere. Even
the knives and forks had a social clatter as they
went on to the table, and the chicken and ham
had a cheerful and joyous fizzle in the pan, as
if they rather enjoyed being cooked than otherwise. And when
George and Eliza and little Harry came out, they met

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such a hearty, rejoicing welcome, no wonder, it seemed to
them like a dream. At last, they were all seated
at breakfast, while Mary stood at the stove baking griddle cakes, which,
as they gained the true exact gold and brown tint
of perfection, were transferred quite handily to the table. Rachel
never looked so truly and benignly happy as at the

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head of her table. There was so much motherliness and
full heartedness, even in the way she passed a plate
of cakes or poured a cup of coffee that it
seemed to put a spirit into the food and drink
she offered. It was the first time that ever George
had sat down on equal terms at any white man's table,
and he sat down at first with some constraint and awkwardness.

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But they all exhaled and went off like fog in
the genial morning. Rays of this simple, overflowing kindness. This, indeed,
was a home home, a word that George had never
yet known a meaning for, and a belief in God
and trust in his providence began to encircle his heart
as with a golden cloud of protection and confidence. Dark

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misanthropic pining, atheistic bouts, and fierce despair melted away before
the light of a living gospel, breathed in living faces,
preached by a thousand unconscious acts of love and good will, which,
like the cup of cold water given in the name
of a disciple, shall never lose their reward. Father, what

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if THEE should get found out again, said Simeon second,
as he buttered his cake. I should pay my fine,
said Simeon gently. But what if they put THEE in prison?
Couldn't THEE and mother manage the farm? Said Simeon, smiling,
mother can do almost everything, said the boy. But isn't
it a shame to make such laws? THEE mustn't speak

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evil of thy rulers, Simeon said his father gravely. The
Lord only gives us our worldly goods that we may
do justice and mercy. If our rulers require a price
of us for it, we must deliver it up. Well.
I hate those old slaveholders, said the boy, who felt
as Unchristian as became any modern reformer. I am surprised

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at thee, son, said Simeon. Thy mother never taught THEE,
so I would do even the same for the slaveholder
as for the slave if the Lord brought him to
my door in affliction. Simeon second blushed scarlet, but his
mother only smiled and said, Simeon is my good boy.
He will grow older by and by, and then he

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will be like his father. Ah. Hope, my good sir,
that you are not exposed to any difficulty on our account,
said George anxiously. Fear nothing, George, for therefore are we
sent into the world. If we would not meet trouble
for a good cause, we were not worthy of our name.
But for me, said George, I could not bear it.

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Fear not, then, friend George. It is not for THEE,
but for God and man. We do it, said Simeon.
And now thou must lie quietly this day and to night.
At ten o'clock, Phineas Fletcher will carry THEE onward to
the next stand. THEE and the rest of thy company.
The pursuers are hard after THEE. We must not delay.
If that is the case, why wait till evening, said George.

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Thou art safe here by daylight. For every one in
the settlement is a friend, and all our watching it
has been found safer to travel by night. End of
Chapter thirteen. Dream Audio Books hopes you have enjoyed this program.