feeble, discouraged women; or, those who, treated in every way like
brutes, had sunk to their level.

"Thar you!" said Quimbo throwing down a coarse bag containing a peck of
corn, "thar, nigger, grab, you won't get no more _dis_ yer week."

Tom was faint for want of food, but moved by the utter weariness of two
women, whom he saw trying to grind their corn, he ground for them; and
then set about getting his own supper. An expression of kindness came
over their hard faces--they mixed his cake for him, and tended the
baking, and Tom drew out his Bible by the light of the fire--for he had
need of comfort.

Tom saw enough of abuse and misery in his new life to make him sick and
weary; but he toiled on with religious patience, committing himself to
Him that judgeth righteously. Legree took silent note, and rating him as
a first-class hand, made up his mind that Tom must be hardened; he had
bought him with a view to making him a sort of overseer, so one night he
told him to flog one of the women. Tom begged him not to set him at
that. He could not do it, "no way possible." Legree struck him
repeatedly with a cowhide. "There," said he stopping to rest, "now will
ye tell me ye can't do it?"

"Yes, mas'r," said Tom, wiping the blood from his face. "I'm willin' to
work, night and day; but this yer thing I can't feel it right to do; and
mas'r, I never shall do it, never!"

Legree looked stupefied--Tom was so respectful--but at last burst forth:

"What, ye blasted black beast! tell _me_ ye don't think it right to do