204 UNCLE TOM’S CABIN; OR,

Miss Ophelia carried her to the kitchen regions.

“ Don’t see what Mas’r St. Clare wants of ‘nother nigger!” said
Dinah, surveying the new arrival with no friendly air. ‘“ Won't
have her round under my feet, I know !” :

“ Pah!” said Rosa and Jane, with supreme disgust; “let her
keep out of our way! What in the world mas'r wanted another
of these low niggers for, I can’t see !”

“You go long! -No more nigger dan you be, Miss Rosa,” said
Dinah, who felt this last remark a reflection upon herself. “ You
seem to tink yourself white folks. You an’t nerry one, black nor
white. I'd like to be one or turrer.”

Miss Ophelia saw that there was nobody in the camp that would
undertake to oversee the cleansing and dressing of the new
arrival; and so she was forced to do it herself, with some very
ungracious and reluctant assistance from Jane.

It is not for ears polite to hear the particulars of the first toilet
of a neglected, abused child. In fact, in this world, multitudes
must live and die in a state that it would be too great a shock to
the nerves of their feillow-mortals even to hear described. Miss
Ophelia had a good, strong, practical deal of resolution ; and she
went through all the disgusting details with heroic thoroughness,
though, it must be confessed, with no very gracious air—for en-
durance was the utmost to which her principles could bring her.
When she saw, on the back and shoulders of the child, great
welts and calloused spots, ineffaceable marks of the system under
which she had grown up thus far, her heart became pitiful within
her.

“See there!’ said Jane, pointing to the marks, “don’t that
show she’sa limb? We'll have fine works with her, I reckon. I
hate these nigger young uns! so disgusting! I wonder that mas'r

| would buy her !”

The “young un” alluded to heard all these comments with the
subdued and doleful air which seemed habitual to her, only scan-
ning, with a keen and furtive glance of her flickering eyes, the
ornaments which Jane wore in her ears. When arrayed at
last in a sui of decent and whole clothing, her hair cropped short
to her head, Miss Ophelia, with some satisfaction, said she looked
more Christian-like than she did, and in her own mind began to
mature some plans for her instruction.

Sitting down before her, she began to question her.

“ How old are you, Topsy ?” ,

«Dun no, missis,” said the image, with a grin that showed all
her teeth.

« Don't know how old youare? Didn’t anybody ever tell you?
Who was your mother ?”

‘‘ Never had none !” said the child, with another grin.

“Never had any mother? What do you mean? Where were
you born ?”