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Uncle Tom's Cabin | Harriet Beecher Stowe | |
In Which Property Gets into an Improper State of Mind |
Page 4 of 10 |
"Better send orders up to the Lord, to make you a set, and leave out their souls entirely," said the drover. Here the conversation was interrupted by the approach of a small one-horse buggy to the inn. It had a genteel appearance, and a well-dressed, gentlemanly man sat on the seat, with a colored servant driving. The whole party examined the new comer with the interest with which a set of loafers in a rainy day usually examine every newcomer. He was very tall, with a dark, Spanish complexion, fine, expressive black eyes, and close-curling hair, also of a glossy blackness. His well-formed aquiline nose, straight thin lips, and the admirable contour of his finely-formed limbs, impressed the whole company instantly with the idea of something uncommon. He walked easily in among the company, and with a nod indicated to his waiter where to place his trunk, bowed to the company, and, with his hat in his hand, walked up leisurely to the bar, and gave in his name as Henry Butter, Oaklands, Shelby County. Turning, with an indifferent air, he sauntered up to the advertisement, and read it over. "Jim," he said to his man, "seems to me we met a boy something like this, up at Beman's, didn't we?" "Yes, Mas'r, said Jim, "only I an't sure about the hand." "Well, I didn't look, of course," said the stranger with a careless yawn. Then walking up to the landlord, he desired him to furnish him with a private apartment, as he had some writing to do immediately. |
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Uncle Tom's Cabin Harriet Beecher Stowe |
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