About half an hour had passed, during which I had walked up and down, exchanging a few words, from time to time, with different gentlemen in the street, when I saw a negro-lad coming at a quick pace from the side of the bridge. I thought I recollected his face, though I have always found it very difficult to distinguish one of his race from another, by the features, when there is no mixture of the white. I accordingly advanced to meet him, and saw at once that it was of me he was in search.

"Come along as quick as possible, mas'r," he said, "you is wanted down dar very much. Mas'r sheriff gone down; but you wanted too. I met mas'r sheriff on the road. Poor Hercules and two other is shot. Dey tink him die, and he want to see you."

"Shot!" I exclaimed. "Good Heaven! by whom?" The boy had been speaking low; but he now dropped his voice to a whisper, while he replied--

"Mas'r William Thornton, and his son Bob, and dat Irish driver." I paused to ask no further questions; but called to Zed to bring out the horses as fast as possible, which he did with more than his usual alacrity. My own beast still looked very tired, and stood with his head drooping. I determined therefore to take the horse that Zed usually rode, and to go alone, although my good servant, who always had a sort of protecting air with him, as if he thought that, as a white man and an Englishman, I was not at all fit to take care of myself in Virginia, urged me strongly to take him with me. I rode away without him, however; proceeding slowly, till I was beyond the town, with the negro-lad walking by my side. But we had hardly passed the bridge when he said,--

"You know de way, don't you, mas'r?" I nodded my head, and he added--"You had better get on den, fear poor Ercles die first. Dis nigger come after." I marked the road too well to miss it; and putting my horse into as quick a pace as possible, I hurried forward till I reached the turning which went down by the sheriff's plantations. Rapid riding is rather favourable to rapid thought; but I had very few data on which to base conclusions in the present case. This event, which the boy had communicated to me, was evidently the outrage to which General Eppes had alluded shortly before; but I puzzled myself in vain to assign some motive for such an act on the part of Robert Thornton. Could it be mere malice because the slaves had been taken out of his hands; I could not believe in such brutality. Yet what other inducement could he have? It was all in vain; and, turning through the woods, I was soon near the sheriff's house. I found no one there, however, except some women and children, who told me that their master had gone down to the old quarters. One woman was crying bitterly, and I asked her if poor Hercules was dead. She said she believed not; but every one said he would die. No further information could I get; for the poor creatures seemed ignorant of everything except that some of their friends, perhaps relations, had been dangerously hurt. On I went then as fast as possible, till I reached the group of cabins which I have before described. Round the door of one of them the greater part of the negroes seemed to have collected; and thither I rode, judging at once that the wounded man lay there. A boy sprang, forward to hold my horse. Another whispered as I dismounted,--

"Doctor's wid him, sir." But I went in notwithstanding; and there, upon the lowly, pallet-bed, saw extended the large frame of the negro I had beheld in the morning, full of life and energy, but now apparently reduced to almost infant weakness. Bending over him with what I suppose was a pair of forceps plunged into a wound in his right side, was Doctor Christy, the surgeon who had attended me when suffering from a much lighter wound. The poor negro's eyes were closed, and he did not open them till the ball was extracted; but when he did, and they fell upon me, he raised himself a little on his elbow, as if about to speak.

"There! lie still, my good fellow, lie still," said the surgeon. "We have got the bullet out; keep quiet and all will go well."

"I want to speak with that gentleman--I must speak with him, though I die. I'se going to die anyhow, I know dat, and I will speak with him when I can."

"I hope he is likely to recover, Mr. Christy," I said advancing.

"I hope so," answered the surgeon, in a somewhat doubtful tone. "But he must keep quiet, and not speak much; for I am not sure that the lower edge of the lung has not been touched." While he spoke, he was busily engaged in putting on compresses and bandages; but the negro eagerly beckoned me towards him, and judging that he would not remain quiet till he had said what he wished to say, I walked up and bent down my head, telling him to speak slowly and calmly.

"Miss Bessy was dere, I'se sure," said the poor man. "Bob Thornton never shoot us for asking after her, if she warn't. She mayn't be dere now, for I dar say he send her away, 'case she saw all he do."

"Then was it Robert Thornton himself who shot you?" I asked. "I thought he was still too ill to move."

"Ay, but he shot me himself," said the negro. "He came to de window in his dressing-gown, and leaned de gun on de chair. Ole Bill and de two Irishmen shot de others; but he shot me. But hark'ee, mas'r, if you and sheriff don't find Miss Bessy, go right across de Swamp. He got de ole house dere--right across, mind, straight east. You find her dere, I tink. Dat's anoder State. He won't keep her in Virginny after what he hab done."

"I cannot really let this go on," said Doctor Christy. "The poor man's life depends upon his being quiet."

"Well, good-bye, Hercules," I said. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Ah, you bring me word dat Miss Bessy found all safe," answered the wounded man. "Dat do me more good nor anything." I drew the surgeon towards the door, round which the other negroes had remained all the time in perfect silence, and asked him in a low tone if it would not be better to have the man's deposition taken down, as he evidently believed himself to be dying.

"What's the use of his deposition?" asked the surgeon drily. "Don't you know a negro can't testify against a white man? His voice will be quite as powerful in the grave as when he is living. But I think he will do well. These negroes always think they will die when anything is the matter." No good could be done by staying; and deeper interest called me away.

"Can any of you show me the way to Mr. William Thornton's house?" I asked, speaking generally to the little crowd without.

"Here's de nigger who can," said an active young negro springing forward. "We'll soon catch up de sheriff. He not long gone. I can run all de way. I wish I hab a gun," he continued, looking at the one which was strapped across my shoulders. "I shoot Bob Thornton wid all my heart."

"Well, come along," I said, with feelings too much akin to his own to reprove him for his sanguinary wishes. "Take the shortest way, and never mind wide paths or narrow; we'll force our way through." On he bounded like a deer, without care of brambles or thorns, of rough places or swamps; and, to say truth, though he was on foot, and I was on horseback, I had a good deal of difficulty to keep up with him. The way was rather long; and the by-paths he took did not strike a wider road, for at least five miles; but when we had gained the more open way, we almost immediately found ourselves in the presence of the sheriff, with a considerable party of white men, and two or three blacks. Amongst the rest, I instantly recognized Robert Thornton, very pale, but apparently quite convalescent. There was an elder man, whom I took to be his father, from the strong personal resemblance, though the latter was thin, fox-faced, and eager-looking, with that peculiar, quick, and hungry aspect which I have never seen except in men who have spent a life and employed all their energies in a fruitless pursuit of wealth by cunning and dirty means--a look of shrewd activity, rendered almost fierce by disappointment. Behind, with handcuffs on them, were the two Irishmen whom I remembered well to have seen with Robert Thornton when he was attempting to carry off aunt Bab's servants. The rest were men whom I did not know. The moment the sheriff perceived me, he drew up his horse, and said,--

"I am sorry to tell you, Sir Richard, Miss Davenport is certainly not there, although we had every reason to believe that she was. I had not, indeed, time to pursue my inquiries as far as I could wish; for my other duties call me to Jerusalem as fast as possible. But I searched every room and every cabin round the house; and, whether she has been there or not, she is not there now."

"You will take notice, Mr. Sheriff," cried Robert Thornton, before I could say anything in reply, "that I again protest against this proceeding as altogether illegal and unwarranted; and I give you notice, I shall undoubtedly bring an action against you for false imprisonment, which you know quite well will lie."

"You will do as you are advised, Mr. Thornton," replied the sheriff, coolly. "The district is in an exceptional state just now, and the presumptions are very strong against you. But, as I said before, my mind is perfectly made up as to my course. You have not often known me abandon my determinations; and I shall not suffer any of you four gentlemen to depart till you have given sufficient bail to meet any charge which may be preferred against you."

"Why, you have not even a pretence, sir," said the elder Mr. Thornton. "Nothing but the idle tattle of a parcel of niggers." The sheriff smiled sarcastically.

"You forget," he said, "we may yet have some curious testimony from Colonel Halliday, and various gentlemen of his party; and, moreover," he continued, more slowly and emphatically, "some testimony, which, though it is not present, and may not even be in this State at the present moment, may become available hereafter. At all events, I will take my chance of what is upon the cards, and please God, I will carry you to Jerusalem this night." I could see that the countenances of Robert Thornton and his father both fell considerably at some parts of the sheriff's reply, which they understood better than I did, and they did not attempt to make any further opposition.

"Sir Richard," said the sheriff, beckoning me a little aside, "you had better return with us. You will not find the lady there; and, without guides and some force, I don't think you will be able to do anything to-night."

"I will go on at all events," I answered. "I have got some hints from that poor fellow whom they have wounded, which I want to follow up at once. I shall probably be back to-night, or at latest, to-morrow."

"Well take care what you do," he replied. "Remember you are not in your own country. But I shall be round in the direction which I suppose you are taking early to-morrow; and, if there should be any difficulty, may be able to give you assistance, though I think this man's creatures will be completely cowed when they find he is apprehended. Indeed, that Irishman there on the left, is going to turn State's evidence, or I am very much mistaken. I would go with you; but I have a great deal to do to-night. Mind what you do in the Swamp; for people have got in there who have never got out again. Now, gentlemen, we will go forward, if you please. Mr. Thornton, you will have the goodness to cease your communications with that man. I wish him to give his evidence unprompted; and as it is a matter which may affect his own life and the lives of two or three others, he had better be permitted to speak freely. I suppose you are aware this district is under martial law at present."

"Then your functions are suspended," said Robert Thornton, sharply.

"Excuse me, sir," said the sheriff. "I am acting under due authority; and, at all events, might makes right in the present instance, as you will find." Thus saying, he rode on; and as Robert Thornton passed me, though his tongue said nothing, his look said a great deal. Poor Hercules had told me to go straight east across the Swamp, if I did not find dear Bessy at Mr. William Thornton's house; and the sheriff assured me she was not there: so that I was inclined at first to leave the house, which was now in sight on my right, along a path which seemed long beaten. On second thought, however, I determined to go up to the house and make further inquiries; not that I doubted the sheriff, or had the vanity to attribute to myself superior acumen; but I have often remarked that where one man of intelligence has been unable to obtain information, or get a clue to some secret, a second man, perhaps inferior to himself, will stumble, by accident, upon the very thing that is wanted. In fact, there are two sides to every hedge; one man takes one, and another man takes the other; and where the form is, there the hare will be. At the door of Mr. Thornton's house, stood two or three negro women and one man. Springing from my horse without hesitation, I gave the rein to my companion, and walked up to them in a familiar manner. They seemed a dull, sullen, heavy set of people, indeed the lowest specimens of the negro race I had yet met with. Yet the conduct and the character of the master must have been that which had brutalized them, for they were exactly of the same race as all the rest round about; and, indeed, most of them seemed to have some portion of white blood in their veins.

"How long is it since Miss Davenport went?" I said, taking out my watch.

"I don't know anything about her," answered the man, in a surly tone.

"I didn't ask you, my good friend," I said; "I asked the woman who attended upon her. You were the girl," I continued, picking out a young woman of two-and-twenty, who looked cleaner, and was more neatly dressed than the rest. "You are the girl who waited upon her last night, are not you?" She hesitated and stammered in her reply, and seemed a good deal confused by the directness of my assertion. At length, however, she blurted forth,--

"Don't know what you are talking about, mas'r." In the meanwhile, the man had walked slowly away, as if he had had enough of my questions; and, turning to an old woman who was one of the party, I said,--

"At all events, goody, you can tell me where aunt Jenny is--Mrs. Bab Thornton's cook. She is my servant now, you know, and I don't want her ill-used or neglected."

"I don't know nothing of nobody, mas'r," replied the old woman. "But I do know we'se got to obey orders; and if we stands here talking to strangers about mas'r's 'fairs, we'se likely to get flogged."

"Neither Mr. Thornton nor his son will ever flog you again," I answered; "for they have both gone to prison for what they did here this morning."

"Can't tell, don't know, mas'r," answered the old woman. And she beat a retreat into the house, followed by another, somewhat younger than herself. The youngest of the party, however, stood her ground; and, after a quick glance round, apparently to see that no one was watching, she gave a rapid movement of her thumb, over her shoulder towards the wood, which, on the eastern side, came within two hundred yards of the house. My eye followed her gesture, which certainly was not the exact direction I had intended to take; and, as I could perceive no horse-path, I looked, I suppose, a little puzzled.

"You go down dere quick," said the girl, in a whisper; "follow de track, you find it." Then raising her voice aloud, she said, evidently intending her words for the ears of others,--

"Can't tell you anything, mas'r. Don't know; so no use your waiting." Beckoning the lad to follow with my horse, I crossed the field in the direction she had pointed out, guided by a narrow, and not very distinct, track of footsteps, which, however, widened out and became more like a beaten path as we approached the wood. There two or three other little paths converged; and I found I could pass on horseback easily enough. How far I had to go, I know not; nor what might be likely to occur on the way. But, after some consideration and some doubt, I determined to send back my companion, and proceed on my journey alone. As soon as we were completely out of sight of the house, I took the rein from him, saying,--

"I will not take you any farther, my good boy. I think you had better find some other way back, so that they may not see, from the house, that you have left me."

"Oh, I do dat easily, mas'r," answered the lad; "go down de edge of de Swamp and round."

"First, tell me," I said, "where does this road lead?"

"Ole Billy Thornton's ole house," answered the youth.

"But this is not, I think, the road that poor Hercules intended me to take?" I added, interrogatively.

"Dar say he meant the waggon-road; but it is all de same," replied the lad. "Dey both come out close together, and dat ar gal jog her turn dis way. I see her, dough she were mighty quick." And he laughed with the peculiar laugh of his people.

"Then I cannot miss my way to the old place," I observed.

"Oh, dear, no," answered the boy; "only just follow de track; keep always de biggest; and when you ride 'cross de savannah, look where him very green. Don't you go dere, for he's very deep dere. But keep where him brown and bushy, and where you see ox or horse feet." His directions were very good, as I found afterwards; although I will confess that I had no idea at the time of the sort of place I was venturing into, called, and not without reason, "The Great Dismal Swamp." I am told that in the spring of the year, nothing can be more deceitfully beautiful than the aspect which it puts on. The whole ground, even in the most plashy places, is covered with flowers. The trees are literally robed and loaded with the yellow jasmine, the trumpet honey-suckle, and other climbing plants. The cedars and junipers mingle their darker colours with the light-green foliage of the spring; and the very snakes as they glide across the path, or curl among the branches, look as if they were masses of living gems. In the height of summer, or the beginning of autumn, the scene is very different. Still, however, there is something grand about it from its very gloom. A profound sense of loneliness came upon me as I rode on. I don't know what it was, or how to account for the feeling, but the sensation produced by the aspect of these woods was different from that of any other forest scenery through which I had passed in Virginia. Where patches of woodland, very often of considerable extent, had been scattered amongst the cultivated ground, one always felt that one should soon reach free air and human associations again; but here, it seemed as if one were at the end of man's domain--as if the ground one trod upon never had been, never could be, cultivated; that there was a bar, and a proscription, and a curse against it--that one was proceeding away from civilization, and tending towards nothing. The first half-mile was through dense, deep forest, with tall, thin trees, rising up so close together that they evidently had not room to glow; each struggling with his fellow, as, in too densely a crowded population, every man stinted his neighbour in his own struggle for life. Then came a track, where I know not what catastrophe seemed to have terminated this overcrowded contention. For three or four square miles, the scene was one of desolation and decay. Fallen trees, stunted bushes, low junipers, plashy pools, thickets of laurel and ivy, silver gleams of small ponds, scanty lines of savannah--here, a dried-up patch of black mud, cracked into deep fissures; there, an undrainable spot, where the horse sank above his knees at every step in slimy ooze; now, a tangled brake, where a hundred men might have concealed themselves; and now, a swampy piece, from the long grass of which a tall white bird would spring up and soar away,--such were the objects that presented themselves on every side; and when viewed from the rather more elevated ground, by which the track was approached, showed like a wild and dismal moor with here and there a clump of tall trees rising above the rest of the expanse, and a deep, lowering belt of forest in the distance, girding it in on every side. On I rode, however, my horse sometimes stumbling over the thorn-trees, sometimes sinking almost to his girths in the deep, black mud. The sun declining in the sky, and the gloomy aspect of everything round me, sank into my heart, and depressed my spirits. Oh, how closely allied in this mysterious state of being is the material and the moral--how susceptible is even the soul itself of the influences poured in upon it through the channels of the external senses! The memories of all that had been taking place during the last two days seemed to combine themselves with the gloomy features of the scene around me. Hope diminished, apprehension increased. Imagination triumphed over reason; and I felt as if I were going on towards sorrow and disappointment and misfortunes. Such gloomy fits have sometimes possessed me before; but it is man's privilege and his duty to triumph over them; and whenever I feel the shadow of the cloud, I try to nerve my heart to resist, and to call up faith and trust to support mere human resolution.

"There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow." "Not a hair of our head falls to the ground unnumbered." And if so, God is with us. Onward!