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Uncle Tom's Cabin | Harriet Beecher Stowe | |
In Which Property Gets into an Improper State of Mind |
Page 7 of 10 |
"George, this is bad. I must tell you, you know, as a friend, you'd better not be meddling with such notions; they are bad, George, very bad, for boys in your condition,--very;" and Mr. Wilson sat down to a table, and began nervously chewing the handle of his umbrella. "See here, now, Mr. Wilson," said George, coming up and sitting himself determinately down in front of him; "look at me, now. Don't I sit before you, every way, just as much a man as you are? Look at my face,--look at my hands,--look at my body," and the young man drew himself up proudly; "why am I _not_ a man, as much as anybody? Well, Mr. Wilson, hear what I can tell you. I had a father--one of your Kentucky gentlemen--who didn't think enough of me to keep me from being sold with his dogs and horses, to satisfy the estate, when he died. I saw my mother put up at sheriff's sale, with her seven children. They were sold before her eyes, one by one, all to different masters; and I was the youngest. She came and kneeled down before old Mas'r, and begged him to buy her with me, that she might have at least one child with her; and he kicked her away with his heavy boot. I saw him do it; and the last that I heard was her moans and screams, when I was tied to his horse's neck, to be carried off to his place." "Well, then?" |
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Uncle Tom's Cabin Harriet Beecher Stowe |
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