UNCLE TOM'S LETTER
Uncle Tom felt that he was indeed very fortunate to have found such a
kind master and so good a home. He had nice clothes, plenty of food, and
a comfortable room to sleep in. He had no hard, disagreeable work to do.
His chief duties were to drive Mrs. St. Clare's carriage when she wanted
to go out, and to attend on Eva when she wanted him. He soon grew to
love his little mistress very, very much indeed.
Mr. St. Clare too began to find Tom very useful. He was dreadfully
careless about money, and his chief servant was just as careless as his
master. So between them a great deal was not only spent but wasted.
Mr. Shelby had trusted Tom in everything, and Tom had always been
careful of his master's money--as careful as if it had been his own.
Waste seemed dreadful to him, and he tried to do something to stop it
now.
Mr. St. Clare was not long in finding out how clever Tom was, and soon
trusted him as thoroughly as Mr. Shelby had done.
But in spite of all his good fortune, Tom used to long very much to go
home to see his dear ones again. He had plenty of spare time, and
whenever he had nothing to do he would pull his Bible out of his pocket
and try to find comfort in reading it.
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But as time went on, Uncle Tom longed more and more for his home. At
last one day he had a grand idea. He would write a letter.
Before Uncle Tom was sold, George Shelby had been teaching him to write
so he thought he could manage a letter.
He begged a sheet of writing-paper from Eva, and going to his room began
to make a rough copy on his slate.
It was very difficult. Poor Uncle Tom found that he had quite forgotten
how to make some of the letters. Of those he did remember, he was not
quite sure which he ought to use. Yes, it was a very difficult thing
indeed.
While he was working away, breathing very hard over it, Eva came behind
him, and peeped over his shoulder.
'Oh, Uncle Tom! what funny things you are making there!'
Eva put her little golden head close to Uncle Tom's black one, and the
two began a grave and anxious talk over the letter. They were both very
earnest, and both very ignorant. But after a great deal of consulting
over every word, the writing began, they really thought, to look quite
like a proper letter.
'Yes, Uncle Tom, it begins to look beautiful,' said Eva, gazing on it
with delight. 'How pleased your wife will be, and the poor little
children! Oh, it is a shame that you ever had to go away from them! I
mean to ask papa to let you go back, some day.'
'Missis said that she would send down money for me, as soon as they
could get it together,' said Tom. 'Young Mas'r George, he said he'd come
for me. He gave me this dollar as a sign,' and Tom drew the precious
dollar from under his coat.
'Oh, he is sure to come, then,' said Eva, 'I am so glad.'
'I wanted to send a letter, you see, to let 'em know where I was, and
tell poor Chloe that I was well off, 'cause she felt so dreadful, poor
soul.'
'I say, Tom,' said Mr. St. Clare, coming in at the door at this minute.
Tom and Eva both started.
'What's this?' Mr. St. Clare went on, coming up and looking at the
slate.
'Oh, it's Tom's letter. I'm helping him to write it,' said Eva. 'Isn't
it nice?'
'I wouldn't discourage either of you,' said her father; 'but I rather
think, Tom, you had better let me write your letter for you. I'll do it
when I come home from my ride.'
'It is very important that he should write,' said Eva, 'because his
mistress is going to send money to buy him back again, you know, papa.
He told me they had said so.'
Mr. St. Clare thought in his heart that very likely this meant nothing.
He thought it was only one of these things which good-natured people
said to their slaves to comfort them when they were taken away from
their dear ones to be sold. He did not really believe Mrs. Shelby
meant to buy Tom back again. However, he did not say so out loud, but
just told Tom to get the horses ready for a ride.
That evening the letter was written, and Uncle Tom carried it joyfully
to the post-office.
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