vin' I've had? And he never would have let this yer come on me, if
he could have seed it aforehand. I know he wouldn't."

"Wal, any way, thar's wrong about it _somewhar_," said Aunt Chloe, in
whom a stubborn sense of justice was a predominant trait; "I can't jest
make out whar 't is, but thar's wrong somewhar, I'm _clar_ o' that."

"Yer ought ter look up to the Lord above--he's above all--thar don't a
sparrow fall without him."

"It don't seem to comfort me, but I spect it orter," said Aunt Chloe.
"But dar's no use talkin'; I'll jes wet up de corn-cake, and get ye one
good breakfast, 'cause nobody knows when you'll get another."

In order to appreciate the sufferings of the negroes sold south, it
must be remembered that all the instinctive affections of that race are
peculiarly strong. Their local attachments are very abiding. They are
not naturally daring and enterprising, but home-loving and affectionate.
Add to this all the terrors with which ignorance invests the unknown,
and add to this, again, that selling to the south is set before the
negro from childhood as the last severity of punishment. The threat that
terrifies more than whipping or torture of any kind is the threat of
being sent down river. We have ourselves heard this feeling expressed by
them, and seen the unaffected horror with which they will sit in their
gossipping hours, and tell frightful stories of that "down river," which
to them is

_"That undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns."_*

* A slightly inaccurate quotation from _Hamlet_, Act III,
scene I, lines 369-370.

A missionary figure among the fugitives in Canada told us that many of
the fugitives confessed themselves to have escaped from comparatively
kind masters, and that they were induced to brave the perils of escape,
in almost every case, by the desperate horror with which they regarded
being sold south,--a doom which was hanging either over themselves
or their husbands, their wives or children. This nerves the African,
naturally patient, timid and unenterprising, with heroic courage, and
leads him to suffer hunger, cold, pain, the perils of the wilderness,
and the more dread penalties of recapture.

The simple morning meal now smoked on the table, for Mrs. Shelby had
excused Aunt Chloe's attendance at the great house that morning.
The poor soul had expended all her little energies on this farewell
feast,--had killed and dressed her choic