Uncle Tom's Cabin Or, Life Among the LowlyBook - 2005?
His conversation was in free and easy defiance of Murray's Grammar and was garnished at convenient intervals with various profane expressions, which not even the desire to be graphic in our account shall induce us to transcribe. His companion, Mr. Shelby, had the appearance of a gentleman; and the arrangements of the house, and the general air of the housekeeping, indicated easy, and even opulent circumstances. As we before stated, the two were in the midst of an earnest conversation. "That is the way I should arrange the matter," said Mr. Shelby. "I can't make trade that way -- I positively can't, Mr. Shelby," said the other, holding up a glass of wine between his eye and the light. "Why, the fact is, Haley, Tom is an uncommon fellow; he is certainly worth that sum anywhere, -- steady, honest, capable, manages my whole farm like a clock. Tom is a good, steady, sensible, pious fellow. He got religion at a camp-meeting, four years ago; and I believe he really did get it. I've trusted him, since then, with everything I have, -- money, house, horses, -- and let him come and go round the country; and I always found him true and square in everything." "Some folks don't believe there is pious niggers Shelby," said Haley, with a candid flourish of his hand, "but I do."
From the critics
QuotesAdd a Quote
George Harris: “We have more than the rights of common men; we have the claim of an injured race for reparation. But, then, I do not want it; I want a country, a nation, of my own. . . . I go to Liberia, not as to an Elysium of romance, but as to a field of work. I expect to work with both hands, to work hard; to work against all sorts of difficulties and discouragements; and to work till I die” (478-479).
“I’d rather have poor clothes, poor house, poor everything, and have ‘em mine, than have the best, and have ‘em any man’s else” (Tom, 340).
But there, on the bed, lay her slumbering boy, his long curs falling negligently around his unconscious face, his rosy mouth half open, his little fat hands thrown out over the bed-clothes, and a smile spread like a sunbeam over his whole face. "Poor boy! poor fellow!" said Eliza; "they have sold you! but your mother will save you yet!"
AgeAdd Age Suitability
SummaryAdd a Summary
There are no summaries for this title yet.
There are no notices for this title yet.