tion, so, thanking the 'native,' I was about to proceed, when he hailed me as follows:

'I say, stranger, what's the talk in the city?'

'Nothing, Sir,' I replied, but fight and secession.'

'D

n secession!' was the decidedly energetic answer.

'Why so, my friend? That doctrine seems to be popular hereabouts.' 'Yas, pop'lar with them South-Carolina chaps. They'd be oneasy in

heaven if Gabriel was cook, and the LORD head-waiter.'

'They must be hard to suit,' I said; ‘I ‘kalkerlate' you're not a SouthCarolinian.'

'No, Sir-ee! not by several mile. My mother moved over the line on purpose to make me a decent individual.'

'But why are you for the Union when your neighbors go the other way?' "'Cause it has allers carried us along as slick as a cart with new-greased wheels; and 'cause, stranger, my grandther was one of Marion's boys, and spilt a lettle claret at Yewtaw for the old consarn, and I reckon he'd be oneasy in his grave if I turned my back on it now.'

'But, my friend,' I said, 'they say Lincoln is an Abolitionist, and if inaugurated will free every darky you've got.'

'He can't do that, stranger, 'cordin' to the Constitution, and my old grandther used to say that ar dokermunt would hold the d―l himself; but, for my part, I'd like to see the niggers free.'

'See the niggers free!' I replied in undisguised astonishment; 'why, my good Sir, that is rank treason and abolition.'

'Call it what you're a mind to, them's my sentiments; but, I say, stranger, if there's any thing on airth that I uttarly despise it ar a Northern dough-face, and it's clar to me you 're one on 'em.'

'There, my friend, you're mistaken. I'm neither an Abolitionist nor a dough-face. But why do you go for freeing the niggers?'

"Cause the white folks would be better off. You see, I have to feed and clothe my niggers, and pay their owners a hundred and twenty and a hundred and fifty a year for 'em, and if the niggers war free they 'd work for half that price.'

Continuing the conversation, I learned that the umbrella-hatted gentleman worked twenty hired-negroes in the gathering of turpentine; and that the district we were entering was occupied by persons in the same pursuit, who nearly all employed 'hired-hands,' and entertained similar sentiments; Colonel J ———, whom I was about to visit, and who was a large slave-owner, being about the only exception. This, the reader will please remember, was the state of things at the date of which I am writing, in the very heart of secessiondom.

Bidding the turpentine-getter a rather reluctant 'good-by,' I rode on into the rain.

It was nearly dark when we reached the first 'run,' but, fortunately, we found it less swollen than our way-side acquaintance had represented; and we succeeded in crossing it without difficulty. Hoping that the others might be

equally as fordable, we pushed rapidly on, the darkness meanwhile gathering thickly about us, and the rain continuing to fall. Our way lay through an unbroken forest, and the tall, dark pines which towered on either side, moaned and sighed as the wind swept fiercely through them, like a legion of unhappy spirits let loose from the dark abodes below. Occasionally we came upon a patch of woods where the turpentine-gatherer had been at work, and the white faces of the 'tapped' trees, gleaming through the darkness, seemed an army of 'sheeted ghosts' closing steadily around us. The darkness, the rain, and the hideous noises in the forest, called up unpleasant associations, and I inwardly determined to ask hospitality from the first human being, black or white, whom we should meet.

We had ridden on for about an hour after dark, when suddenly our horse's feet plashed in the water, and he sank to his middle in a stream. My first idea was that we were in the second 'run,' but as he pushed slowly on, the water momentarily growing deeper, and spreading around us on either side as far as we could see, it flashed upon me that we had missed the road in the darkness, and were fairly launched into the Waccamaw river! Turning to the darky, who was driving, I said quickly :

'Scip, stop the horse. Where are we?'

'Don't know, massa, but I reckon we 'se in de riber.'

'A comfortable situation this, Scip. We can't turn round. The horse can't swim such a stream as this in harness. What shall we do?'

'Can you swim, massa?' he quietly asked.

'Yes, like an eel.'

‘Wal, den, we'd better gwo on. De hoss will swim. But, massa, you might take off your boots and overcoat, and be ready for a spring if he go down.'

I did as he directed, while he let down the apron and top of the wagon, and fastened the reins loosely to the dash-board, saying as he did so, 'You must allers let a hoss have his head when he swim, massa; if you rein him, he go down sure.' Then, undoing a portion of the harness, to give the horse the free use of his legs, he shouted, 'Gee up, ole Gray,' and we started.

The noble animal stepped off slowly and cautiously, as if fully aware of the danger of the passage; but he had proceeded only about fifty yards when he lost his footing, and we were plunged into an entirely new and decidedly cold hip-bath. 'Now's de time, ole Gray,' 'show your broughten up, ole boy,' 'let de gemman see how you swim, ole fler,' and similar exclamations proceeded rapidly from the darky, who all the time avoided touching the reins. 'It may have been one minute, it may have been five-I took 'no note of time' - before the horse again struck bottom, and halted from sheer exhaustion, the water being still almost level with his back, and the opposite bank too far-off to be seen through the darkness. After a short rest, he again 'breasted the waters,' and in a few minutes landed us on the shore; not, unfortunately, in the road, but in the midst of the pine-trees, which there were so entangled with under-growth, that not even a man, much less a horse, could make his way through them. Wet to the skin, and shivering with the cold,

we had no time to lose 'in gittin' out of dat,' if we wished to avoid greater dangers than those we had just escaped. So, springing from the wagon, the darky waded up the stream, near its bank, to reconnoitre. Returning in a few minutes, he reported that we were about a hundred yards below the road. We had been carried that far down the stream by the strength of the current. The only way was to follow the 'run' up along its bank; this we did, and in a short time had the satisfaction of striking the high-road. Arranging the harness, we were soon again under way, the horse bounding along as if he appreciated the necessity of vigorous exercise to restore his chilled circulation. We afterward learned that it was not the Waccamaw that we had crossed, but the second 'run' our native friend had told us of, and that the water in the middle of its stream was fifteen feet deep!

Half-dead with the cold and wet, we hurried on, but still no welcome light beckoned us to a human habitation. The darkness grew denser till we could not even distinguish the road, much less our horse's nose, which we had been directed to follow. Inwardly cursing the folly which brought me into such a wilderness, I said to the darky:

Scipio, I'm sorry I took you on such a trip as this.'

'Oh! neber mind me, massa; I rather like de dark night and de storm.' 'Like the night and the storm, why so?'

"Cause den de wild spirits come out, and talk in de trees, and make me feel bery strong har,' he replied, striking his hand on his breast.

'The night and the storm, Scip, make me feel like cultivating another sort of spirits. There are some in the wagon-box, let us stop and see what they are like.'

We stopped, and I took out a small willow-flask, which held the 'spirits of Otard,' and offered it to the darky.

'No, massa,' he said laughing, 'I neber touch dem sort ob spirits; dey raise de bery ole debil.'

Not heeding the darky's example, I took 'a long and a strong pull,' andfelt the better for it.

Again we rode on, and again and again I 'communed with the spirits,' till a sudden exclamation from Scip aroused me from a half-stupor, into which I was falling. 'What's the matter?' I asked.

'A light, massa, a light!'

'Where?'

'Dar, way off in de trees

'Sure enough, glory, hallelujah, Hail Columbia, and Yankee Doodle, there it is! We're all right now, Scip.'

We rode on till we came to the inevitable opening in the trees, and were soon at the door of what I saw, by the light which came through the crevices in the logs, was a one-story shanty, about twenty feet square. 'Will you let us come in out of de rain?' asked Scipio of a wretched-looking, half-clad, middle-aged woman, who came to the door.

'Who ar you?' was the reply.

'Only massa, and me, and de hoss, and we am half-dead wid de cold,' said Scip.

'Wal, strangers, thar's mighty poor fixins for trav'lers har, but you can come in. The horse,' she added, addressing the darky, and pointing to the rear of the hut, 'you can stow away under the shed.'

Here, my friend, the editor of the KNICKERBOCKER, requires me to pass the night. If I ever 'git out ob dat' shanty, the reader will hear from me again.

THIS narrative is resumed at a period nearly two years and-a-half subsequent to the date referred to in the preceding chapter. It brings us to the spring of 1852. The lapse of time we will bridge over by a brief epitome of what occurred during those thirty months. It would be easy to fill a volume with details, but it would contain many repetitions, and would not serve the purpose I have in view.

Two years and-a-half, after we are fifty-two, cannot well be spared. At that age every year counts. It is not pleasant to be reminded in the midst of our labors, especially when a family at home is entirely dependent on them; it is not agreeable, I say, to be reminded by some incipient debility or tell-tale weakness that the infirmities of age are beginning to hover around us. All of a sudden we discover we have not the same suppleness of joint, the same elasticity of limb, the same general activity of body as before. We put it down to a cold, a touch of rheumatism, or a slight visitation of neuralgia — to any thing but what it really is, the advance-guard of dissolution. After a while we give it up. The cold is not cured, the rheumatism and neuralgia do not mend, and we submit to the inevitable destiny which says: Grow old or die!'

It is then we grudge the years which bring us no returns, which leave us no better than they found us. For men, as they advance in life, feel a saddening disappointment when they think how meagre of results it has been to them. So true is it, that there is implanted in the breasts of us all a consciousness that we ought not to live in vain.

Two years and-a-half, reader, and we meet again.

There is an end to my numerous speculations; and without my being made rich or comfortable, or having one penny laid aside. I have an impression that most of my readers imagine that Harley had undertaken to lay some snare for me, that I was about to become his victim, or dupe, or be unfortunately involved by his practices, or something of the sort.

I have no such experience to record. Harley proved to be just what he appeared. During those two and-a-half years he worked indefatigably. He crossed the ocean several times. His perseverance was marvellous; his hope always large and encouraging. On the whole, I cannot say I have any reason to complain of him. I must give, therefore, a brief explanation why at the end of this period I find myself in this unpleasant situation.

It will be remembered that I was to have one-quarter of the net profits of the various enterprises connected with America, which Harley should engage in. At the same time, I was to draw on him for my necessary expenses. The result of each separate undertaking may be briefly summed up as follows:

Of the three California gold mines, but one turned out to have a title which would pass. It took a year to get satisfactory evidence of that, and a great expense. By that time far better placers were offered. In fact, London was flooded with auriferous projects, from the Mariposa mines of Fremont to the mere 'show' of the California squatter, represented only by an attractive lump of gold. So Harley thought best to sell our mine, for five thousand pounds, (twenty-five thousand dollars,) cash. It had simply cost the owner the trouble of prospecting it, and of going through the usual squatter-law form of taking possession nothing more.

From this twenty-five thousand dollars had to be deducted, by the terms of sale, the various charges and expenses of the solicitors, for examining titles, attending meetings, etc. etc. etc., which amounted in round numbers to seven thousand five hundred dollars. Mem.: The solicitors who received these large fees had influenced their clients to make this purchase, and had to be paid accordingly.

Of the seventeen thousand five hundred which remained, the owner got one-half, and I a fourth of the balance. I had no reason to complain certainly.

The Virginia gold-mine promised very well. Here were some improvements, and a quantity of ore already excavated. A geologist of respectability was sent out to examine it. His report was flavored with the choice viands and fine wines of the Old Dominion; and on the strength of it a company was brought out, nominally in Paris, under the French law of en commandite. The shares were really owned in London by some speculators, who to avoid all responsibility prevailed on a Frenchman in their employ to act as gerant. These people soon began to speculate in the stock, having got it on the mining list, and paid not the slightest attention to working the mine itself. The proprietor did receive in cash the amount of his improvements; for the rest he obtained a certain amount of the shares, and Harley and I took our proportion, but we had to engage not to offer in the market for the space of one year. Harley also received a pretty large sum under the disbursement account, of which my share was about a thousand dollars. After a while, the stock began to fall; those