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434 UNCLE TOM'S CABIN; OR |
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" I say, you! " he said, as he turned back and caught a glance at the dispirited faces behind him. " Strike up a song, boys, come !'
The men looked at each other, and the " come" was repeated, with a smart crack of the whip which the driver carried in his hands. Tom began a Methodist hymn,
" Jerusalem, my happy home, Name ever dear to me ! When shall my sorrows have an end, Thy joys when shall "
" Shut up, you black cuss! " roared Legree; " did ye think I wanted any o' yer infernal old Methodism ? I say, tune up, now, something real rowdy, quick ! "
One of the other men struck up one of those unmeaning gongs, common among the slaves.
" Mas'r see'd me cotch a coon,
High hoys, high! He laughed to split, d' ye see the moon,
Ho! ho! ho ! boys, ho ! Ho! yo! hi e! oh!"
The singer appeared to make up the song to his own pleasure, generally hitting on rhyme, without much attempt at reason; and all the party took up the chorus, at intervals,
"Ho! ho! ho! hoys, ho! High e oh ! high e oh! "
It was sung very boisterously, and with a forced attempt at merriment; but no wail of despair, no words of impassioned prayer, could have had such a depth of woe in them as the wild notes of the chorus. As if the poor, dumb heart, threatened, prisoned, took refuge in that inarticulate sanctuary of music, and found there a language in which to breathe its prayer to God ! There was a prayer in it, which Simon could not hear. He only heard the boys singing noisily, and was well pleased; he was making them " keep up their spirits." |
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