I could not help thinking, as we rode along, now through deep woods, now across small pieces of cultivated ground, what a favourable country this would be for a desultory guerilla sort of warfare; and I easily conceived how the Indians, in former days, had maintained their woody fastnesses against all the advantages of European discipline. Indeed, had the insurgents, on the present occasion, but known how to profit by the opportunities the country afforded--had they kept their hands from any indiscriminate massacre, and contented themselves with picking off their assailants from behind the screen which the forest afforded in every direction, they might, and certainly would, have been beaten at last, but they would have been much more successful in the beginning, and maintained the contest for a greater length of time. I did not feel at all sure that they would not have a shot at us from the denser parts of the forest, as we passed along through the narrow paths which we had to thread in order to reach the high road; and I kept my gun upon my knee, to give it back again in case of need. But the great highway to Suffolk was reached at length, and on we went in more security. A large, lumbering, heavy stage-coach passed us, with its tall springs and huge body, looking like a great solitary capon, and quite unlike the neat, compact, dashing vehicles which roll along with such tremendous speed over our smooth English roads. It stopped for a moment, to give time for the passengers and driver to ask us--"What news?" and then went on again, rolling and wallowing through the sand, and the ruts, and the holes, like a porpoise in a rough sea. About two miles farther on, just as we were coming to the opening of another road branching to the left, I heard a well-known voice exclaiming,--

"Hi, massa, hi!" Looking round, I saw Zed just starting up from a large log on which he had been sitting. He ran as quickly towards us as his crooked leg would admit; and, coming close to my horse, he said, in a low, mysterious, and important voice,--

"Got news of Miss Bessy, massa. Saw an ole woman in her cabin, half-way between Doctor Blunt's and Mr. Hiram Shield's; and she tell me that she saw four men and two women, a-horseback, pass by last night just as it was growing dark. They were all white men, and one was a white woman. She says, she swears, she was Miss Bessy. T'other woman's face she could not see; but she says she was mighty fat, so that must be aunt Jenny."

"Which way did they take?" I demanded, though I did not exactly see why there should not be other fat women in the world besides aunt Jenny.

"Oh, they have gone to Jerusalem, of course," cried Billy Byles. "It was some of Halliday's party, depend upon it. Very likely they split into two; but they have all taken to Jerusalem, you may be sure of it. You see, in the crowd and confusion last night, no one could find anything, and the search for Bessy was like looking for a needle in a pottle of hay.

"Ole woman thinks they took t'other way," said Zed; "but you see, massa, her cabin just stand at de corner, where you can see no way at all; for they could turn either right or left when they got a hundred yards farther; and she only judge by the sound of the horses' feet."

"Oh, they've gone to Jerusalem," said Billy Byles. And turning to Zed, he added, "She was quite sure they were white men?"

"Oh, she swore by gorry dey was white men," answered Zed. "No doubt of dat."

"Then she is safe, at all events," answered Billy Byles; "and we had better make the best of our way on to town and seek for her. So that she hasn't fallen into the hands of these devils, we have no occasion to be afraid." Zed's intelligence certainly was a great relief to my mind; yet I was not entirely at my ease; for there were various points which seemed strange to me, and I could not feel satisfied till they were accounted for. Nevertheless, Billy Byles's plan seemed the only feasible one for the moment. Therefore, telling Zed to follow as fast as he could, I rode towards Jerusalem. We found the town somewhat more orderly and quiet than it had been on the preceding day, although it appeared that several parties of military had arrived during the night and that morning, and two pieces of artillery were planted in the square. Provisions had arrived likewise; and breakfast was going on with great zeal in the inn and the different houses which had given shelter to the fugitives. In the inn we found Mr. Thornton and all his family; but his first question showed me that he himself had obtained no satisfactory information.

"What news do you bring?" he said. "Do aunt Bab's people know anything of our poor girl?"

"Nothing whatever," I replied; "but we have since got some important intelligence." And I told him all we had heard from Zed.

"That is satisfactory, at all events," he said, with a brighter look. "We shall hear more soon, and most likely see her come trotting in in the course of the day. I dare say she has gone to some plantation where the people are on their guard, and feel secure. At all events, she is safe, and our worst fears are allayed." He then went on to inform me that he had spoken with the young ladies whom Colonel Halliday had brought in, and found that Bessy had certainly never been with them. He had brought them, however, Mr. Thornton said, from a house quite close to the high-road after having made a tour with his party through the woods in search of the insurgents. He had returned on his search, immediately after having lodged them in safety, and he might have met with Bessy either before or afterwards.

"The only strange thing is," continued Mr. Thornton, "that Halliday himself has never returned; but I trust he will appear very soon." Mrs. Thornton, who always was rather of a despondent disposition, here expressed a hope--which, with her, generally meant a dread of an exactly opposite event--that Colonel Halliday had not met with a superior party of the negroes, and been defeated. A friend of mine, who was somewhat of a susceptible and apprehensive character himself, but who took especial care never to express any gloomy forebodings, used to declare that he always eschewed, the society of what he called dread-ful people; "for when I am in a fright about anything myself," he said, "they are sure to drive me half mad with all sorts of possibilities." Now, though I do not intend to apply the term dread-ful to my excellent friend, Mrs. Thornton, yet I did wish she had spared me this suggestion. I had argued myself into believing that there was no doubt of Bessy's safety, although, of course, I could not be altogether easy till I saw her again; and though the phantom which Mrs. Thornton conjured up was not very tangible, it made me uncomfortable. If it was not probable, it was within the range of possibility; and upon it my mind rested with very unpleasant sensations.

"Pooh! nonsense, mamma!" said Louisa Thornton. "Mr. Halliday had too many men with him for anything like that. Did you not hear how they were all scattered and dispersed at Doctor Blunt's? In the meantime, Sir Richard is getting no breakfast and must be half starving."

"And so am I too," said Billy Byles; "but you don't care whether I starve or not, Miss Louisa."

"Oh, I have no fears about you," she answered. "You will never starve when there's anything to be got to eat. You had better make haste, however, and get down to the dining-room, for there is a famishing multitude round, which will leave not a morsel if you do not fight for it." What she said was literally true. The breakfast we got was very scanty, although Billy Byles did almost fight for it; but it served, at all events, to appease our hunger; and, what was perhaps of more consequence to me, to fill up some short space of time in which I had nothing else to do. Active exertion was indeed most necessary for me; but for the time, the opportunity was wanting. Zed had not yet returned to the town; and my horse was too tired, what with the morning's ride and the fatigue he had undergone during the preceding night and day, to go any farther without some repose. Nothing was to be done, then, but to wander about amongst the various groups in the town, to converse with those whom I knew, and to gather the scattered pieces of intelligence which were brought in from the country. All seemed agreed that the negroes had been completely dispersed the night before; that they had lost heart and hope; and that the insurrection was at an end. Several families who had taken refuge in the town moved back to their own dwellings, and some parties of the militia and volunteers marched out to return home. Still Colonel Halliday did not appear, and still no farther intelligence came of Bessy Davenport. Zed came in about two hours after Billy Byles and I reached the town, although the distance he had to walk was not more than four miles; but he assured me he had been making all sorts of inquiries, and I doubt not but what he said was true; for where is the negro who can pass another without stopping to ask him some question? After I had heard his excuse for the delay, I told him to get the horse he usually rode, ready for me, adding,--

"He must be rested by this time; and if Colonel Halliday doesn't come in in an hour, I shall go out to talk with this old woman, you mention, myself."

"You had better take me with you, massa," said Zed. "You'll not find out much by yourself. People will tell ole Zed when they won't tell you. But dere's dat free yellow man looking after you, I think, where you sleep last night." I looked round in the direction to which his eyes were turned, and saw good old Jacobus standing at a little distance, apparently waiting respectfully till my conversation with Zed was over.

"What is it, Jacobus?" I said, approaching him. "Have you anything to tell me?"

"Yes, sir," said the man, speaking in a low and mysterious tone. "There's a boy on the bridge wants to see you. He won't come into the town, for he seems afraid of the soldiers and the cannon; but he says he has a message for you." I turned hastily away, and walked towards the bridge. There were two or three people at the nearer end, but no one was upon it except a man driving a cart, and a young boy of perhaps thirteen years old, who was mounted upon the rail and swinging himself backwards and forwards over the water. He was as black as ebony; and I had no recollection of having seen him before. But he grinned from ear to car as I came up, evidently recognizing me; and, dismounting from his rail, he ran forward, saying,--

"Hercules say, mas'r, he got news already ob Miss Bessy. You don't leave de town till you hear from him again."

"And who is Hercules, my good friend?" I asked.

"Oh, our Hercules," answered the lad, with a look of wonder at my ignorance. "De great big nigger. You saw he dis mornin'."

"And has he got intelligence already?" I inquired. "He must have been very quick. It is hardly four hours since I saw him."

"Ah, dis nigger run all de way," cried the boy, "right troo de woods--neber stop for noting."

"Then you must need something, my good boy," I replied. "Come into the town with me, and I'll see if I can get you some breakfast."

"O no, mas'r," answered the boy. "Had good drink out there," and he pointed to the river. "But mind you now, you wait till Hercules come. He can want you in a minute, he say. He am very fierce about someting, and get half de nigger together and went away again, so soon he sent me off." I tried to get some further information from the boy, but it was in vain. He evidently knew nothing more than the message with which he had been charged; and giving him some pieces of silver for his trouble, with which he seemed mightily delighted, I let him go. On returning to the inn, I found the dining-hall occupied by a party of gentlemen arranging their plans for a very melancholy duty. This was to divide the district in which the massacre had taken place into sections, and in parties of sufficient force, to visit the houses which had suffered, in order to take the necessary steps to dispose decently of the bodies of the victims. A good-looking military man was in the chair, with a calm and intelligent countenance. I found afterwards it was General Eppes, the commandant of the district. He was just addressing a few words of advice and exhortation to those who were about to set out.

"I believe, gentlemen," he said, "that all danger may be considered over. The insurrection may be said to be at an end, though several of the leaders have escaped as yet. I would advise you, however, to go well armed, and five or six in a body, lest you should fall in with any scattered party of these unfortunate people. I would beseech you, however, should you meet with any of them, to be calm, and to forbear from anything like violence or cruelty. Let them be brought in to await the action of the law; but do not permit indignation and anger to move you to acts as barbarous as their own. You may think it strange, and perhaps improper, that I should address such advice to you at all; but I have just received intelligence of a most brutal outrage committed upon some unoffending negroes by persons who should know better. My good friend, the sheriff, has just set out to inquire into the whole matter, and I trust will bring the offenders to punishment. For it is dangerous and intolerable, on an occasion like this, when the restoration of tranquillity depends as much upon justice and forbearance as upon courage and activity, that the peaceable and well-disposed should be treated like the malcontent and the guilty, especially," he added, in a very marked tone, "where private malevolence may be suspected as the motive for a cruel and unjustifiable act. This is all I wish to say; but I think it is worth your attention, for I know that many who hear me must set forth with feelings highly irritated, which will be naturally increased by the sad spectacles they will have to witness." His tone was calm, firm, and dignified, and he was listened to with evident attention and respect. Some, indeed, wished that he would give farther explanations in regard to the particular case of outrage to which he had alluded. But he replied, after a moment's thought,--

"Gentlemen, my information is vague, and I do not like to give circulation to rumours affecting the character and conduct of any gentleman in the neighbourhood. We have had too many rumours already, and, until the particulars are well ascertained, I shall say no more. The matter is in the hands of the sheriff, whose energy and activity you all know, and it will be thoroughly investigated." The meeting then began to break up, organizing itself into different parties to perform the mournful duty they had undertaken. Each selected its particular little district to act in, and each chose a leader for itself to direct its proceedings. This spirit of organization is one of the most peculiar and serviceable traits of the American character. In other countries, a mob is a mob; every one strives for the lead; every one tries to cram his own opinion down the throats of others. But no sooner do a number of Americans meet for any purpose whatsoever, than the first thing they do is to organize; they choose their leaders and their officers, and thus, very often, the most disorderly acts are performed in the most orderly manner. This is one of the ancient characteristics of the Anglo-Saxons, showing itself amongst their remote descendants. Our pagan, piratical, barbarous, bloodthirsty ancestors, had no sooner taken possession of Great Britain, than they devised, and carried out, one of the most beautiful systems of organization ever conceived; and if both Englishmen and Americans have, as I am afraid is the case, inherited some of the piratical propensities of our worthy forefathers, they have come in for their share of the better qualities also. Mr. Henry Thornton was placed at the head of one party, Billy Byles of another, and I think about seven little bodies of men were formed to visit the different houses where massacres had been committed. I was asked by Mr. Thornton to join his party; but I explained to him that I wished to remain in the town till Colonel Halliday made his appearance, and I besought him, if he obtained any intelligence of Bessy, to let me know at once.

"Halliday's absence is very strange," said Mr. Thornton; "but let me advise you, Sir Richard, if I may do so without seeming impertinent, to deal with him calmly when he does come in. There are various circumstances which may make him irritable in regard to any matter where Bessy is concerned, and I think we have had pistols and bullets enough for some time to come." Thus closed our conversation, and when the various parties had set out on their way, I betook myself to the open space before the inn, not alone to be ready for whatever might occur, but to dissipate my impatience, as it were, in a way that could not be annoying to others. I ought, perhaps, in politeness, to have gone to sit with Mrs. Thornton and her daughters in the balcony; but I felt that I was not fit for society, and that my company could not be very desirable to any one in the mood which was then upon me.