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Updated: April 30, 2025
He belonged to a Mr. Osborne, a prototype of Simon Legree, who was so notoriously cruel that other slave-owners assisted in protecting his victims. After the Coffins, with Jack, had been on the road for a few days, Osborne learned that a negro was with them and, feeling sure that it was his Sam, he started in hot haste after them.
Legree was just mixing himself a tumbler of punch, pouring his hot water from a cracked and broken-nosed pitcher, grumbling, as he did so, "Plague on that Sambo, to kick up this yer row between me and the new hands! The fellow won't be fit to work for a week, now, right in the press of the season!" "Yes, just like you," said a voice, behind his chair.
When Legree returned, baffled and disappointed, all the long-working hatred of his soul towards his slave began to gather in a deadly and desperate form. Had not this man braved him, steadily, powerfully, resistlessly, ever since he bought him? Was there not a spirit in him which, silent as it was, burned on him like the fires of perdition?
"Thank you very much, but I must go in and help Lord Marshmoreton with his book." "What a rotten I mean, what a dam' shame!" The pity of it tore at Reggie's heart strings. He burned with generous wrath against Lord Marshmoreton, that modern Simon Legree, who used his capitalistic power to make a slave of this girl and keep her toiling indoors when all the world was sunshine.
Little Eva, the boy who had also taken the part of Legree, jumped from the bed hysterically crying, "You spoiled me part," grappled madly with the manager, and while the battle raged, William Adolphus Turnpike, coverlet and all, slipped quietly out of the back door and raced frantically for home, only two short blocks away.
Parents and children there shall part! Shall part to meet no more!" And clear and loud swelled through the empty halls the refrain, "O there'll be mourning, mourning, mourning, O there'll be mourning, at the judgment-seat of Christ!" Legree stopped.
"Where is he?" said George, impetuously. "Let me see him." The cheeks of the young man were crimson, and his eyes flashed fire; but he prudently said nothing, as yet. "He's in dat ar shed," said a little fellow, who stood holding George's horse. Legree kicked the boy, and swore at him; but George, without saying another word, turned and strode to the spot.
Now, I wish to maintain in all seriousness that I am not a Legree, and that, although I by no means hold the "man and brother" theory, yet I am perfectly prepared to respect the droits de l'homme.
Well, his mouth's shut up, at last, that's one comfort!" Yes, Legree; but who shall shut up that voice in thy soul? that soul, past repentance, past prayer, past hope, in whom the fire that never shall be quenched is already burning! Yet Tom was not quite gone.
"You don't believe in ghosts, do you, Cass?" said he, taking the tongs and settling the fire. "I thought you'd more sense than to let noises scare you." "No matter what I believe," said Cassy, sullenly. "Fellows used to try to frighten me with their yarns at sea," said Legree. "Never come it round me that way. I'm too tough for any such trash, tell ye."
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