He made him put on his oldest clothes, then he sold all the others to
the sailors.

Legree made his slaves unhappy in every way he could think of. Then he
would come up to them and say, 'Come, come, I don't allow any sulky
looks. Be cheerful, now, or--' and he would crack his whip in a way to
make them tremble.

At last the weary journey was over. Legree and his slaves landed. His
house was a long way from the river. The men slaves walked, while Legree
and the two women drove in a cart.

Mile after mile they trudged along, over the rough road through wild and
dreary country, till, hungry, thirsty, and tired, they arrived at the
farm, or plantation as it was called.

Legree was not a gentleman like Mr. Shelby or Mr. St. Clare. He was a
very rough kind of farmer. On his farm he grew cotton. The cotton had to
be gathered and tied into bundles. Then he sold it to people who made it
into calico, muslin, and other things, which we need to use and wear.
Gathering cotton is very hard work.

The house Legree lived in had once been a very fine one, and had
belonged to a rich gentleman. Now, it was old, neglected, and almost in
ruins.

The house was bad enough, but the cabins where the slaves lived were far
worse. They were roughly built of wood. The wind and the rain came
through the chinks between the planks. There were no windows. The floors
were nothing but the bare earth. There was no furniture of any kind in