master. So between them a great deal was not only spent but wasted.

Mr. Shelby had trusted Tom in everything, and Tom had always been
careful of his master's money--as careful as if it had been his own.
Waste seemed dreadful to him, and he tried to do something to stop it
now.

Mr. St. Clare was not long in finding out how clever Tom was, and soon
trusted him as thoroughly as Mr. Shelby had done.

But in spite of all his good fortune, Tom used to long very much to go
home to see his dear ones again. He had plenty of spare time, and
whenever he had nothing to do he would pull his Bible out of his pocket
and try to find comfort in reading it.

[Illustration]

But as time went on, Uncle Tom longed more and more for his home. At
last one day he had a grand idea. He would write a letter.

Before Uncle Tom was sold, George Shelby had been teaching him to write
so he thought he could manage a letter.

He begged a sheet of writing-paper from Eva, and going to his room began
to make a rough copy on his slate.

It was very difficult. Poor Uncle Tom found that he had quite forgotten
how to make some of the letters. Of those he did remember, he was not
quite sure which he ought to use. Yes, it was a very difficult thing
indeed.