be healed. You will then be prepared to hunt bears, quail, deer, etc., at the Springs, and your sport will then commence. Before entering into the hunt you will supply yourself with a pole cat arrangement, which is furnished free by the company and will probably be of service to you. It is not expected that you will engage in any bear hunt on your first arrival, but will wait until you know something about the mode of hunting them. It frequently happens on the hunt that you come in contact with a rattlesnake. He will give you timely notice by springing his rattles, which you will do well to heed. It is a well-known fact that Northern invalids are not afraid of alligators, bears, snakes, pole cats or any of the poisonous insects that infest the Swamp and Lake. There are a few timid persons living near the Lake, on the edge of the Swamp, who are sometimes driven out of their houses by the appearance of bears and snakes, but they are few in number, and seldom or ever visit the Lake. The great bug bear that deter most of the visitors is the fear of snakes falling in the gondola, as she passes along, from overhanging limbs of trees. If passengers would keep in their state-rooms on the gondola, snakes might fall into it and they would know nothing about it, as they would be thrown out as soon as found. Lizzards sometimes run up the pantaloons leg of some who are not on the lookout for such things; but that causes a fellow to run out of his trousers so quick that very few ever get bitten.

I have visited the Lake at various times and under different circumstances, but do not recollect that anything unaccountable happened to me but once, which I will relate: On one occasion as I was going down the canal, toward the Lake, the driver of the skiff exclaimed, "Boss, did you see dat?" "No," I exclaimed; "What was it?" "It was a ball of fire." "A what?" I said. "A jack-mer-lantern," said he. "And what is that?" I asked. "It's a sperit. I ceed dem ebery nite, an' when I go to kotch one dey ain't nobody." "Then you believe in spirits?" "Yes, sar; dat I dus. When I pass Paradise Old Field I kin always see dem." "Have you ever been told anything about the ball of fire and Jack-mer-lantern, as you call them?" "Yes, sir; dat I hab." "Then let me hear what you have been told." "Yes, sir; Boss, I'se gwine tu tell you de God's trufe." "Well, proceed." "Boss, I'm gwine to tole you dey tole me dat long time 'go dat a man by de name of Pluter was come up dar in dat field wid a 'omun, an' dat dey loss demselves, an' hab neber bin seed since; and dat ebery nite wen you go by dar you kin see somfin. One nite as I was gwine 'long I thort dat a ball of fire wus gwine tu hit me in de face. I axed who wus dat; nobody said nuffin. I hit at it an' it turned to a Jack-mer-lantern." "And what was that," I asked. "I 'spec dat it wus dat man Pluter, an' de ball ob fire wus de 'omun dat wus wid him." "And they are what you call 'sperits?' Then you are a natural born fool; if you do not shove this boat along I will break your head with this pole." "Boss, I shall always blebe in dem sperits."

It is very true that some very mysterious and unaccountable things were seen when passing Paradise Old Field, by the side of the canal, by persons on their way to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, but in very few instances, and then only by nervous persons of diseased minds. You might travel up and down the canal as often as you choose and outside of snakes and pole cats nothing would ever appear. Do not let snake stories deter you from visiting this wonderful and beautiful place, the Lake of the Dismal Swamp. As the boat was being driven along, the driver said: "Boss, did I nebber told you about de big watermillion that Mars. Caleb Busby foun' near dis place?" "No; let me hear something about it." "Well, sir, I will tole you. One day as Mars. Busby was gwine tu de Lake, an' wen he got rite here he ceed on de side ob de cunnel a big snake trien tu swallow a raccoon. He tuk up sumfin' to flro at de snake, an' jes' den he ceed in de bushes a nale keg, an' wus glad dat he had foun' a keg ob nales. But wen he got dar it was a watermillion." "How do you suppose that melon came to grow there?" I asked. "My 'pinion 'bout dat, Boss, dat some nigger stole a watermillion frum sum farmer's patch, an' wen he got here he busted it gin a tree. Sum ob de seed fell on de ground an' de watermillion gru dar." "That is very probable. What did Mr. Busby do with it?" "He karid it home, planted sum ob de seed and his million weighed ober fifty pounds. He sole sum ob de seed, an' frum dem seed farmers rose de biggest watermillions ob eny in dis kintry." "Dat will do pretty well for you; drive the boat along." "Dus yu think dat I tole yu a story, Boss?" "Oh, no; I only thought that one of your 'Jack-mer-lanterns' had been after you, or that somebody had been throwing a 'ball of fire' at your head."