didn't tink 'bout dat," said Uncle Jim, with an apologetic and crestfallen air. Here Tony gave his pipe another rake in the embers, took a few puffs, and fell off his log fast asleep.

It was now getting late, and preparations were being made to put me to bed, which was done by placing some hay on the floor of the camp and spreading some bed clothing which we had brought along. The bed was soon ready, and I was snugly placed upon it, although I could not go to sleep, knowing that we were to go out early in the morning to see the sun rise on the Lake. I was called at the first dawn of day and told to get up: we soon had eaten our breakfast and everything made ready to leave for the Lake. We soon reached the landing, finding our boat ready. My father placed me in and getting in himself took up his paddle and shoved off for a position in the Lake where we might see the great Orb of Day bathe his face in the cloudy water of "Lake Drummond." We did not have to wait long. By the glow of light that began to show just under the eastern horizon, we were satisfied that our anticipations would soon be realized.

The morning was misty, just enough so as to hide the dense woods which stood on the eastern shore of the Lake, and at the same time served as a back ground to the grand display of nature, and make it appear as if the sun actually came up out of the water as it were. The mist in front was dispelled, and the rays of sun playing on the rippling water would cause you to think that it was one vast cluster of diamonds. The sight was grand beyond my power to describe it, and I never expect to behold such a scene again. Everything was lovely on that May morning—the balmy breeze, the air filled with perfume of the wild flowers, which grew around the Lake: birds carrolled forth sweet music as they flitted from limb to limb; squirrels could be seen and heard chattering among the trees. The shore of the Lake was spread with a velvety green, and you would think that nature had done her best to make that morning lovely. Meditating on the beauty and grandeur that surrounded us on the broad bosom of the Lake, suddenly we were awakened from our reverie by the hoarse growl and lapping of the bears, and horrid cries of the wild cats, which would cause the blood to curdle in the veins. Thus with the sweet some sour always will be found. Occasionally, at the Lake, a noble stag will emerge from the trees, showing a stately head of horns, approach to the water and survey the prospect, then plunge in the Lake to swim to the other shore. He settles very low, and if you did not know you would take it for a floating bush. They are frequently caught when attempting to cross the Lake. Having reached a good place for fishing, my father stopped at the place known as the "Apple Trees," where he caught some very pretty fish. His bait getting scarce, he moved around the Lake to "Draper's Landing." Running the bow of the canoe upon the wharf log, which was nearly on a level with the water, left her, without tying, to look for some angle worms. It being rough on the Lake at the time, the rolling of the waves caused the boat to work off, and before he could return she had drifted well out on the broad waters of the Lake. We were too small to realize our situation. Not knowing how to paddle, we were left to the mercy of the waves. On the return of my father, seeing the great peril I was in, required but a single thought for him to know what to do. Being a good swimmer he boldly plunged into the water, reached the boat and swimming towed it to the shore. Had he not returned in time, our fate could not have been told. We would have been capsized in the Lake and drowned, or have drifted ashore to be devoured by bears and other wild animals, or stung to death by the venomous reptiles that hung in clusters on trees around the shores of the Lake. This accident put an end to fishing for that day. My father was wet, and not having a change of clothing with him, proceeded to the camp, so that he could dry. We soon arrived at Jack's Landing, and on reaching the camp found Mr. Woodward, who remarked: "What is the matter, Neddie? Did a big fish pull you overboard?" He saw that my father was wet, and ordered a fire to be made, so that he could dry his clothes. A hot fire was soon made of juniper logs, and he was not long in drying.

Feeling no inconvenience from his ablution, and drinking a cup of hot coffee, he related the circumstances as detailed above. "Well, Neddie;" said Mr. W., "you should at once return thanks to the Giver of all Good for this miraculous escape." The pious Mr. Woodward joined with him. It was now nearly dark, and preparations were made to have supper. When at the Lake it is expected that you will catch fish enough upon which to subsist, and my father being a good hand at angling, always had a good supply, and no one on the trip wanted for fish. The supper, which consisted of fish, bread and hot coffee, was soon ready. About this time Tony and Jim, who had been loading their skiff at the landing, returned to the camp, and taking their seats at the ends of some juniper logs, were soon fast asleep. We ate our supper and were then ready for any kind of story that was told.

CHAPTER V.

THE VISIT OF TOM. MOORE, AS RELATED BY TONY.

As Uncle Tony was, perhaps, the oldest person, and knew more about the Lake than any person then engaged at it, he was awakened, and Mr. Woodward said: "Uncle Tony, I want you to tell us about the man whom you said you brought to the Lake in 1821." "Who tole you 'bout dat boss?" inquired Uncle Tony, with an air of conscious pride. "It will make no difference, go on and tell us," returned Mr. Woodward. Tony scratched his head, then putting some tobacco in his pipe, took out his flint and steel (matches not being known in the swamp at that day,) and soon had fire enough to light his pipe. Drawing on it enough to get his "nigger head" tobacco to burn, and fixing himself on the end of his log, he commenced: "Boss, I shall nebber forgit dat time. One mornin' as I war gittin' my skiff ready to go to de Lake, a mity nice lookin' man cum up to me an' said: 'Buck, ar' you de man dat will carry me to de Lake ob de Dismal Swamp, for which I will pay you one pound?' De gemman talked so putty, dat I tole him to git in my skiff, an' I wud carry him to de Lake. I notice' dat he kep' writin' all de way. When I got to de horse camps I stopped to get somfin to eat. He cum outen de skiff an' ax me what I stop for. I tole him I stop to eat some meat an' bread. He ax me if I wud hav' a drink. I tuk off my hat an' tole him dat I wud be much obleged to him for it. He foched a silber jug, wid a silber cup for a stopper, and said: 'My man, dis is Irish whiskey. I brung it all de way from home.' He tole me dat his name was Thomas Moore, an' dat he cum fom 'way ober yonder—I dun forgot de name of de place—an' was gwine to de Lake to write 'bout a spirit dat is seed dar paddlin' a kunnue. De har 'gin tu rise on my hed an' I ax him ef dat was a fac'. He sed dat he was told so in Norfolk. It was gin out dar dat a mity putty gal had loss her sweethart, an' had dun gone crazy, an' had gone to de Lake ob de Dismal Swamp an' drown herself, an' dat she ken be seen ebery night by de lite ob some sort ob fli." "I tell you, boss," continued the old man, "when he tole me 'bout dat gal paddlin' dat bote on de Lake at nite, I diden' want to go any furder wid him, but he tole me dar wud be no danger. I cud not see hur, so I carrid him on to de Lake. He rit like de gal had run away an' had been drowned rite here. I shal nebber forget dat gentman. I fotch him back an' he gin me de poun', which war five dollars, an' he lef' for Norfolk, bein' mitey glad dat I had carrid