eamer； as from some floating castle top； overlooks the whole country for miles and miles around。 Tom； therefore； had spread out full before him； in plantation after plantation； a map of the life to which he was approaching。
He saw the distant slaves at their toil； he saw afar their villages of huts gleaming out in long rows on many a plantation； distant from the stately mansions and pleasure…grounds of the master；—and as the moving picture passed on； his poor； foolish heart would be turning backward to the Kentucky farm； with its old shadowy beeches；—to the master’s house； with its wide； cool halls； and； near by； the little cabin overgrown with the multiflora and bignonia。 There he seemed to see familiar faces of comrades who had grown up with him from infancy； he saw his busy wife； bustling in her preparations for his evening meals； he heard the merry laugh of his boys at their play； and the chirrup of the baby at his knee； and then； with a start； all faded； and he saw again the canebrakes and cypresses and gliding plantations； and heard again the creaking and groaning of the machinery； all telling him too plainly that all that phase of life had gone by forever。
In such a case； you write to your wife； and send messages to your children； but Tom could not write；—the mail for him had no existence； and the gulf of separation was unbridged by even a friendly word or signal。
Is it strange； then； that some tears fall on the pages of his Bible； as he lays it on the cotton…bale； and； with patient finger； threading his slow way from word to word； traces out its promises？ Having learned late in life； Tom was but a slow reader； and passed on laboriously from verse to verse。 Fortunate for him was it that the book he was intent on was one which slow reading cannot injure；—nay； one whose words； like ingots of gold； seem often to need to be weighed separately； that the mind may take in their priceless value。 Let us follow him a moment； as； pointing to each word； and pronouncing each half aloud； he reads；
“Let—not—your—heart—be—troubled。 In—my—Father’s—house—are—many—mansions。 I—go—to—prepare—a—place—for—you。”
Cicero； when he buried his darling and only daughter； had a heart as full of honest grief as poor Tom’s；—perhaps no fuller； for both were only men；—but Cicero could pause over no such sublime words of hope； and look to no such future reunion； and if he had seen them； ten to one he would not have believed；—he must fill his head first with a thousand questions of authenticity of manuscript； and correctness of translation。 But； to poor Tom； there it lay； just what he needed； so evidently true and divine that the possibility of a question never entered his simple head。 It must be true； for； if not true； how could he live？
As for Tom’s Bible； though it had no annotations and helps in margin from learned commentators； still it had been embellished with certain way…marks and guide…boards of Tom’s own invention； and which helped him more than the most learned expositions could have done。 It had been his custom to get the Bible read to him by his master’s children； in particular by young Master George； and； as they read； he would designate； by bold； strong marks and dashes； with pen and ink； the passages which more particularly gratified his ear or affected his heart。 His Bible was thus marked through； from one end to the other； with a variety of styles and designations； so he could in a moment seize upon his favorite passages； without the labor of spelling out what lay between them；—and while it lay there before him； every passage breathing of some old home scene； and recalling some past enjoyment； his Bible seemed to him all of this life that remained； as well as the promise of a future one。
Among the passengers on the boat was a young gentleman of fortune and family； resident in New Orleans； who bore the name of St。 Clare。 He had with him a daughter between five and six years of age； together with a lady who seemed to claim relationship to both； and to have the little one especially under her charge。
Tom had often caught glimpses of this little girl；—for she was one of those busy； tripping creatures； that can be no more contained in one place than a sunbeam or a summer breeze；—nor was she one that； once seen； could be easily forgotten。
Her form was the perfection of childish beauty； without its usual chubbiness and squareness of outline。 There was about it an undulating and aerial grace； such as one might dream of for some mythic and allegorical being。 Her face was remarkable less for its perfect beauty of feature than for a singular and dreamy earnestness of expression； which made the ideal start when they looked at her； and by which the dullest and most literal were impressed； without exactly knowing why。 The shape of her head and the turn of her neck and bust was peculiarly noble； and the long golden…brown hair that floated like a cloud around it； the deep spiritual gravity of her violet blue eyes； shaded by heavy fringes of golden brown；—all marked her out from other children； and made every one turn and look after her； as she glided hither and thither on the boat。 Nevertheless； the little one was not what you would have called either a grave child or a sad one。 On the contrary； an airy and innocent playfulness seemed to flicker like the shadow of summer leaves over her childish face； and around her buoyant figure。 She was always in motion； always with a half smile on her rosy mouth； flying hither and thither； with an undulating and cloud…like tread； singing to herself as she moved as in a happy dream。 Her father and female guardian were incessantly busy in pursuit of her；—but； when caught； she melted from them again like a summer cloud； and as no word of chiding or reproof ever fell on her ear for whatever she chose to do； she pursued her own way all over the boat。 Always dressed in white； she seemed to move like a shadow through all sorts of places； without contracting spot or stain； and there was not a corner or nook； above or below； where those fairy footsteps had not glided； and that visionary golden head； with its deep blue eyes； fleeted along。
The fireman； as he looked up from his sweaty toil； sometimes found those eyes looking wonderingly into the raging depths of the furnace； and fearfully and pityingly at him； as if she thought him in some dreadful danger。 Anon the steersman at the wheel paused and smiled； as the picture…like head gleamed through the window of the round house； and in a moment was gone again。 A thousand times a day rough voices blessed her； and smiles of unwonted softness stole over hard faces； as she passed； and when she tripped fearlessly over dangerous places； rough； sooty hands were stretched involuntarily out to save her； and smooth her path。
Tom； who had the soft； impressible nature of his kindly race； ever yearning toward the simple and childlike； watched the little creature with daily increasing interest。 To him she seemed something almost divine； and whenever her golden head and deep blue eyes peered out upon him from behind some dusky cotton…bale； or looked down upon him over some ridge of packages； he half believed that he saw one of the angels stepped out of his New Testament。
Often and often she walked mournfully round the place where Haley’s gang of men and women sat in their chains。 She would glide in among them； and look at them with an air of perplexed and sorrowful earnestness； and sometimes she would lift their chains with her slender hands； and then sigh wofully； as she glided away。 Several times she appeared suddenly among them； with her hands full of candy； nuts； and oranges； which she would distribute joyfully to them； and then be gone again。
Tom watched the little lady a great deal； before he ventured on any overtures towards acquaintanceship。 He knew an abundance of simple acts to propitiate and invite the approaches of the little people； and he resolved to play his part right skilfully。 He could cut cunning little baskets out of cherry…stones； could make grotesque faces on hickory…nuts； or odd…jumping figures out of elder…pith； and he was a very Pan in the manufacture of whistles of all sizes and sorts。 His pockets were full of miscellaneous articles of attraction； which he had hoarded in days of old for his master’s children； and which he now produced； with commendable prudence and economy； one by one； as overtures for acquaintance and friendship。
The little one was shy； for all her busy interest in everything going on； and it was not easy to tame her。 For a while； she would perch like a canary…bird on some box or package near Tom； while busy in the little arts afore…named； and take from him； with a kind of grave bashfulness； the little articles he offered。 But at last they got on quite confidential terms。
“What’s little missy’s name？” said Tom； at last； when he thought matters were ripe to push such an inquiry。
“Evangeline St。 Clare；” said the little one； “though papa and everybody else call me Eva。 Now； what’s your name？”
“My name’s Tom； the little chil’en used to call me Uncle Tom； way back thar in Kentuck。”
“Then I mean to call you Uncle Tom； because； you see； I like you；” said Eva。 “So； Uncle Tom； where are you going？”
“I don’t know； Miss Eva。”
“Don’t know？” said Eva。
“No； I am going to be sold to somebody。 I don’t know who。”
“My papa can buy you；” said Eva； quickly； “and if he buys you； you will have good times。 I mean to ask him； this very day。”
“Thank you； my little lady；” said Tom。
The boat here stopped at a small landing to take in wood； and Eva； hearing her father’s voice； bounded nimbly away。 Tom rose up； and went forward to offer his service in wooding； and soon was busy among the hands。
Eva and her father were standing together by the railings to see the boat start from the landing…place； the wheel had made two or three revolutions in the water； when； by some sudden movement； the little one suddenly lost her balance and fell sheer over the side of the boat into the water。 Her father； scarce knowing what he did； was plunging in after her； but was held back by some behind him； who saw that more efficient aid had followed his child。
Tom was standing just under her on the lower deck； as she fel