until he bethought himself of a secret his countrymen made use of to pilot themselves of a dark day. He took a species of vermiu out of his collar and exposed it to the open day on a piece of white paper. The poor louse, having no eyelids, turned himself about until he found the darkest part of the heavens, and so made the best of the way to the north. By this direction the that cordial of life, found more necessary than in this dirty place. From morning to night, after hard labor, the line was only advanced one mile and thirty poles. "16th. The line was to-day carried but one mile and a quarter; the soil continuing soft and miry, but fuller of trees, especially white cedars; many of these were thrown down and piled high enough for a good Muscovite fortification. "17th, Sabbath.-Rested. Since the surveyors entered the Dismal, they have laid eyes on no living creature. "18th.-Made nearly a mile; the link could be carried no further. The whole distance was through a miry cedar bog where the ground trembled under the feet most fearfully. It was a great consideration about our lodging. We first covered the ground with pieces of cypress bark, on which we spread our blankets; but the water would soon cover it to our great inconvenience. Then our fires were continually going out; for no sooner was the trash upon the surface burnt away but immediately the fire was extinguished by the moisture of the soil." The colonel leaves his party in the swamp, and his journal of its further adventures comes to an abrupt end. Whether the men that composed it found graves in the miry Slough of Despond, whether they were consumed by the lions, panthers, and alligators, or whether they made happy exits from the land of horrors, will ever remain a mystery no man can solve till sea and earth give up their dead, and the secrets of all lives are disclosed. Colonel Byrd's journal tells us, however, before it closes, that the men's courage was put to a trial; and he continues : "Though I cannot say it made them lose their patience, yet they lost their humor for They kept their gravity like so many Spaniards, so that a man might have taken his opportunity to plunge up to his chin without being laughed at." man steered himself safely out, and gave such | joking. "15th. The surveyors pursued their work with diligence, but found the soil of the Dismal so spongy that the water oozed into every footstep they took. But the greatest difficulty was from large cypresses which the wind had blown down and heaped on one another. Never was rum, Perhaps this state of matters may account for the sudden secession of the colonel. He assures us, that, after many hardships, he reaches the North Carolina side of the swamp, and then he touches lightly upon the characteristics of its people. Το quote him further and finally : "The men for the most part are just like the Indians-impose all the work on the women. They make their wives rise out of bed early in the morning at the same time that they lie and snore till the sun has risen one-third of his course and dispersed all the unwholesome damps. Then, after rising and stretching and yawning for half an hour, they light their pipes, and under protection of a cloud of smoke venture into the open air; though, if it happens to be never so little cold, they quickly return shivering to the chimneycorner. When the weather is mild, they stand leaning with both arms upon a corn fence, and gravely consider whether they had better go and take a small heat at the hoe, but quickly find reason to put it off for another time. Thus they Thus they the whole village (or "town," if its inhabitants will have it so); men, women, and children had retired within their homes, and closed both door and casement. Even the darkey and the dog, who love to stretch themselves out in the sunshine at a temperature that will well nigh roast an egg, and sleep the long hours through-even they had sought cooler quarters beneath some friendly roof. Store-doors stood ajar just for the name of the thing; indeed, the clerks were doubtless asleep, since there was but slim chance of any kind of trade that day. Only the sun and the flies, the blue-bottles especially, seemed to be doing a thriving business, and between them both they were having everything their own way, inasmuch A party consisting of two, and complete in itself for all the necessities of the occasion, and for enjoyment, viz., a journalist and his artist friend, left the cars at Suffolk one warm August day, prepared to follow the example of the colonel and investigate the swamp. Probably the cool depths beneath entangled trees, through which no vagrant ray of the sun could even so much as glimmer, acted as an incentive to the undertaking, for although we have said the day was warm, it was in reality hot. The very air seemed exhalations from a furnace. Not a soul was visible in as there was no other sign of life or motion anywhere. It was the deserted village over again. Only that Suffolk is not the "loveliest village" by any manner of means. Situated at the extreme northern end of the swamp, it stretches itself out into one long street bordered for half a mile with houses that stand at utter variance one with another; built, in sooth, without reference to design or regularity, in that higgledy-piggledy style which seems the peculiar characteristic of all Virginia villages-as if each house by settling down where it pleased, and facing where it listeth, north, south, east, or west, was the Fourth of July in itself, and had a vote. A few cross-streets here and there had made attempts to ramify, but such efforts never having approached anything like completion, had only degenerated into lanes. A spire or two rising clear and distinct against the sky showed where the worthy prayed. A score or so of stores lined the sidewalks, while scattered at intervals were the ubiquitous bar-rooms, over whose juleps (the Eastern Virginian drinks nothing in summer but brandy juleps) the village magnates met to discuss their own affairs and politics. The next morning some time was spent in collecting supplies for the intended trip and in securing a guide. At last, after the former had been purchased and stored away, the latter was found in the person of Bob, a typical Dismal Swamper; a long, double-jointed, slab-sided specimen of humanity, the hugest eater (suggesting a stomach like an anaconda's his whole length) and the biggest romancer in the world. His face wore a combined expression of shrewdness and good humor, and while from its varied dirt-streaks it brought to mind a certain "Little Tom Simms on the front seat, it just as surely recalled that of his companion, "Jolly Jack Gibbs just behind him With a rainy new moon for a mouth." A shock of tow-colored hair rose through sundry ventilations in his hat like sprouting wheat through the knot-holes of a barn floor. Underneath what had once been a rim was his sallow face, surmounted by a nose the color of the immortal Bardolph's. His clothes were not many nor much to boast of; they scorned a fit, and in one respect reminded one of the "whited sepulchres" of old, "full of bones." Bob's career had been an eventful one to the villagers. It seems he had left his paternal home not far away, and shipped before the mast from Norfolk, bound on a voyage to South America and the West Indies. On his return he eschewed a sea-going life as too industrious for one who hated all manner of work, and settled down in the village for the balance of his days to live on the glory of his exploits. These he recounted whenever an opportunity presented, and in order that the salt of his sea-stories should not lose its savor from over-repetition, Bob came to draw largely on an imagination second only to Munchausen's. So that the habit of gentle misrepresentation was rather the gradual development of the necessities of the day than inherent bias to evil. Indeed, Bob might have been thought to be religiously inclined, if doing no manner of work on the Sabbath could be taken as a sign; only he treated the other days in the week just as respectfully, and that went somewhat against him. He was a nondescript character, lived from hand to mouth, and was always ready to act in any capacity and turn an honest penny, provided no actual work was required. Placing our traps in a cart, we rode about a mile to the place where Bob was in waiting with his skiff,—a small rude flat-boat of some ten feet long, and drawing about six inches of water. Taking our seats in front, we piled up the luggage in the centre; Bob seated himself with the air of a veteran traveler, and, using a double paddle, with steady automatic strokes started the boat down the swamp. The canal for the first three miles was as wide as an ordinary room, and covered with a green slime, through which Bob laboriously propelled the canoe. Locomotion here was slow and wearisome, while the surroundings were sombre beyond description. A short while before, an immense fire had swept over this portion of the swamp, destroying thousands of magnificent trees, and leaving only a charred desert thousands of acres in area. For a month the fire lasted, until, for miles around, nothing could be seen but this wide-stretching waste, still smoking in places, with here and there the blackened trunk of a tree remaining, a monument of the surrounding desolation. No living thing was visible, not even a bird; even the buzzards avoided circling over such hopeless and barren wild. A few miles and the scene changes, only to become, if possible, more dread. Great trees, killed by the action of fire, stand singly and in groups, their skeleton branches clearly outlined against the sky, with little puffs of sullen smoke drifting upward from the smouldering trunks. Young reeds cover the ground and wave silently in the noiseless breeze. It is as if kindly Nature had died, and the curse of God had unpeopled the earth. One could imagine himself in a world of departed spirits-spirits condemned to wander through this vast Hades with no voice to break the horrible solitude; seeking rest from the pangs of torturing remorse and finding none. In fancy one can see the doomed pariah of De Quincy, who, hunted by Bramah through the jungles of India, has sought refuge in these desolate swamps, and is cowering behind the tree-trunks or fleeing wildly, blindly, through the dim recesses of the morass. Bob's voice breaks the silence: "I wouldn't paddle down here at night by myself for no money!" And he gives the skiff an energetic push in attestation thereto. We now overtake a long-boat going after shingles, and we hitch our skiff behind. These lighters carry the shingles to the railroad at Suffolk, and are propelled by men walking on the bank and pushing a pole, one end of which is fastened to the boat. The towpath consists of but a single log laid down, the butt of one touching another. These logs are not fastened, but are loose in the ooze of the swamp; and though the boatman has the oar of the lighter with which to steady himself, he stumbles every other step and is over his knees in water. the swamp except in rare instances. The negroes are a well-fed, happy, careless set, and in the calm summer nights the sound of their fiddles and banjos make the gloomy woods echo with jovial strains. Stopping at one of their cabins, we found them well supplied with bacon, meal, potatoes, game, and whisky. The life they lead is some what like a soldier's, at times full of hardships, but followed by seasons of perfect osity in its way. It was constructed by bracing scantlings against four cypress-trees that happened to grow at regular quadrangular distances, and then lifting the house upon those supports several yards above the water. This roost was approached by a skiff, and entrance effected by climbing a ladder that hung from the door, so that its residents literally and truly abided in the treetops. A sensible house and "far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife"-if we except the mosquitoes. STEALING WATERMELONS. The wealth of the Dismal Swamp lies altogether in its shingles. The "Land Company" carry on a regular business, and employ a large force. Cypress-trees grow frequently to the height of one hundred and thirty feet, and are as straight as the masts of a vessel. The shingles constructed from them are the best and most durable of all others; the wood splits readily, is soft when green, and hardens as it dries. The workmen live in comfortable shanties on the little islands, generally in the interior of the swamp. They are wholly negroes, with white foremen who return in the evening to their homes outside, and never stay in Through the desert we have been describing the boat steadily made its way. The sun, now risen high in the heavens, poured down its dazzling rays with fiery fury. There was nothing to intercept them, nor a ripple of wind to temper their remorseless scorching. The perspiration rolled in streams from the glistening faces and bared breasts of the two negroes who propelled the boat. Sitting in front, watching the scene, a strange sight arrested the attention; as far as the eye could reach, the logs forming the path were covered with terrapins and snakes known as the water moccasin. Incredible numbers of the latter put to blush the maddest dreams of a victim of mania-a-potu. In some places a fallen hemlock would be literally covered, as basking in the torrid noonday sun they curled on the massive trunk, and entwined along the branches, their brillianthued variegated bodies glinting in the sunlight, presenting a beautiful but horrible picture. There seemed to exist a perfect entente cordiale between them and the terrapins, for they rested peacefully cheek by jowl. Above the gentle low swish made by the passage of the boat through the water would be heard the splash! splash! of the reptiles and the turtles as they slid off the logs, their heads popping up like corks along the route. The boatmen did not seem to mind them, frequently treading them down as they made a miss-step over their boottops into the mire. It seems as if the African has not that antipathy to serpents cherished by the Anglo-Saxon. "Uncle," I said, going back to the rear of the boat where a venerable darkey held the helm, "there are plenty of snakes about here." "Sure dey is, massa," he answered. "Dey swams aroun' on de canal, a-sunnin' deyselves." "The boatmen do not seem to mind them?" "No, sar; we gits used to dem!" "Do any of the hands ever get bitten ?" "Oh, yes, sar, sometimes; but we allus cures de bite by drinkin'. Some of dese no-count niggers would rather get bitten dan not; dey loves whisky so!" "Wouldn't you be afraid to travel along here in the night-time?" "'Fraid! Lor', massa, no! I comes offen to set my traps. The only thing I'se 'fraid of is ghostesses, and thar ain't none here I ever seed, tho' I hear tells on em." "What kind of traps?" "Terrapins-snappers we calls 'em." "How do you catch them ?" "We takes, sar, a piece of twine as long as your arm, wid a hook at one en', and baits 'em wid a frog, tied live by dere leg, den tie de oder en' to de log. De snapper comes along and swallows de frog, and we carries him home, string and all. We catches plenty when de moon is right." "The moon! What has that to do with it?" "Why, sar, you see de snapper don't bite well 'cept when dar's a full moon, sar." "Why, how do you account for it ?" "I dunno, young massa; 'pears to me the frog can't see 'em in the dark, and de snapper gits all |