"What for book say dat?" cried Governor, who, from being the merriest, had now become the angriest of all; "who ebber hear of chain a nigga, escept nigga runaway, or nigga gwyin' down gin' will to Mississippi? Who ebber hear of lash a nigga, escept nigga sassbox, nigga thief, nigga drunk, nigga break hoss' leg?"
"Brudders," said Parson Jim, "this here is a thing what is 'portant to hear on; for, blessed be Gorra-matty, there is white men what writes books what is friends of the Vaginnee niggur."
"All cuss' bobbolitionist!" said Governor, with sovereign contempt—"don't b'leeb in 'm. Who says chain nigga in Vaginnee? who says cowhide nigga in Vaginnee? De fate ob de slave! Cuss' lie! An't I slave, hah? Who chains Gubbe'nor? who licks Gubbe'nor? Little book big lie!"
And "little book big lie!" echoed all, in extreme wrath. The parson took things more coolly. He rolled his eyes, hitched up his collar, stroked his chin, and suggesting the propriety of reading a little farther, proposed that "brudder Tom, who had an uncommon good hidear of that ar sort of print, should hunt out the root of the matter;" and lamented that "it was a sort of print he could not well get along with without his spectacles."
[CHAPTER IX.]
WHAT IT WAS THE NEGROES HAD DISCOVERED AMONG THE SCANTLING.
Thus called upon, I made a second essay, and succeeded, though not without pain, in deciphering enough of the text to give me a notion of the object for which the tract had been written. It was entitled "An Address to the Owners of Slaves," and could not, therefore, be classed among those "incendiary publications" which certain over-zealous philanthropists are accused of sending among slaves themselves, to inflame them into insurrection and murder. No such imputation could be cast upon the writer. His object was of a more humane and Christian character; it was to convince the master he was a robber and villain, and, by this pleasing mode of argument, induce him to liberate his bond-men. The only ill consequence that might be produced was, that the book might, provided it fell into their hands, convince the bondmen of the same thing; but that was a result for which the writer was not responsible—he addressed himself only to the master. It began with the following pithy questions and answers—or something very like them— for I cannot pretend to recollect them to the letter.
"Why scourgest thou this man? and why dost thou hold him in bonds? Is he a murderer? a house-burner? a ravisher? a blasphemer? a thief? No. What then is the crime for which thou art punishing him so bitterly? He is a negro, and my slave."