till it is given to him; but you can't teach them, do what you will. There is no race upon the face of the earth who should more frequently repeat the prayer 'Lead us not into temptation;' for there is no race so little capable of withstanding it. Then as to the lying, it is mere childishness. First, they have what your authors call a 'diabetes' of talk. Truth is a great deal too limited for them; they must speak about something. And when the lie proceeds from fear it is nine times out of ten, unreasonable fear: they are afraid of being blamed--of not being thought quick and ready at an answer, and consequently, when any question is asked them, rather than seem ignorant, they fabricate a falsehood. If anything very important were at stake, a thousand to one they would tell the truth. But upon these matters you must satisfy yourself; for of all the rusty, rickety, breakable commodities in this world, second-hand opinions are the worst; and yet nine men out of ten supply themselves at brokers' shops, when they could get them fresh and strong from the manufactory." Thus saving, he set to the letters again; and after they were concluded, gave me a very cordial invitation to his house on my return, and left me, adding, "If you stay long, perhaps we may meet were you are going; for I have some business up there, which should have been attended to a month ago, at the county capital city, which rejoices in the name of Jerusalem, although. Got wot, it is less like Jerusalem than Carthage. Has it never struck you, how magnificently ridiculous the names of our towns are in this country? Mount Ida, about as high as my hand--Rome, descended from its seven hills into the midst of a swamp--Syracuse, a couple of hundred miles from the sea--and Jerusalem in a ham-producing district, with nothing but swine all around it, spite of Moses and all the prophets. In fact, the United States have been like a father with too many children, so hard up for Christian names as to be obliged to give them the most un-Christian names he could get." One more short laugh, and he was gone. And now, my dear sister, to-morrow morning at six, I start upon my journey to the interior; but do not let your timid little imagination conjure up images of danger and difficulty, which, take my word for it, have no foundation but in your fancy. Though of course, as society here is not so regulated as in Great Britain, seeing that a couple of centuries can never do for any country what ten centuries can do, the people are perfectly civilized, I can assure you--quite tame, upon my word. There are no longer any terrible Indians with tomahawks and scalping-knives; nor even ferocious backwoodsmen (at least about this part of the country) whose daily occupation is to gouge, or bore, or shoot down their adversaries. They are, as far as I have seen or heard, a good-humoured, jovial, kind-hearted race, somewhat hot and peppery it is true; but preserving many of those qualities intact which we, in our crowds and thoroughfares, have lost or impaired. In short, they have more character about them: the stamp is not worn off the shilling; but, above all, they are especially hospitable. Doubt not, therefore, that that hospitality will be extended to so engaging and agreeable a young gentleman as your affectionate brother.

CHAPTER III.

Richmond, 10th October, 1851.

My Dear Sister,--First let me tell you I am safe and well; which assurance, I trust, will reach you before the news of all that has been taking place here can arrive in England. Some of the scenes I have gone through have been full of danger and horror, and have produced upon my mind, my character, and my fate great and important effects; as, indeed, must always be the case when we are subjected to sudden and unforeseen trials. It is impossible, in the scope of a letter, to give you anything like a clear account of all that has occurred; but whenever I have had an opportunity I have carefully made up my journal, as I promised our friend J----, when I left England, to do for his especial benefit. That journal, of course, contains merely notes and heads; and so many events, and scenes, and conversations remain merely upon memory that I must write it all over again, adding things every here and there which are necessary for a clear comprehension of the whole, which would otherwise in all probability pass away in a few short years. I know you will read them with interest, and so will J----. I shall therefore send the whole story of my last two or three months' adventures to you in detached fragments, and you will forward them to him when you have read them. In the meantime do not put much faith in newspaper accounts; for many of the statements I have seen myself are exaggerated, and many, very many, fall far below the reality. Indeed I do not know that I myself shall be able to bring home to your mind some of the sights that I have witnessed and the scenes through which I have passed; I am sure I could not do so were I to suffer the first impressions to pass away. But, thank God, it is all over; and although several of those whom I highly esteemed have left this world by a tragical and bloody death, those who are dearest to me have escaped almost miraculously. I see you smile, dear sister, at that expression--"those who are dearest to me." Smile away, for I cannot but hope that they will soon be dear to you also. Very likely I shall bring over the last portion of my journal myself, and we may read it together by the old fire-side, with many miles of the dark Atlantic rolling between us and the scenes I have attempted to depict. My faithful Zed will come with me; so have a comfortable room in the hall ready for one to whom I owe my life, and who has suffered many things in the service of your affectionate brother.

The above letter, which, together with the two that preceded it, have been given merely as introductory to the following history, caused a good deal of curiosity and even agitation in the mind of the lady who received it, and in that of the friend who is mentioned under the name of Mr. J----. They were much nearer to each other than the writer imagined when he wrote, and they were never after separated; but each felt a deep interest in the fate of the wanderer over the Atlantic, and looked in the newspapers in vain for the events to which he referred. Englishmen at that time took much less heed of events occurring in the United States of America than they do at present, and English newspapers rarely mentioned matters of merely local interest occurring in any of the several states. At length, however, at the end of about a fortnight or three weeks, came a large package, in the form of a letter; and every arrival of a mail-packet brought one or two more, which were perused with deep feelings by the sister and the sister's husband, and are now given to the public, verbatim et literatim, as they were written.

CHAPTER IV.

On the 19th June, 1831,1 set out from the city of Norfolk about seven o'clock in the morning; my departure had been fixed at six: but who ever sets out at the hour at which he has determined? Nobody, certainly, in Virginia, where time and punctuality seem to be, in the opinion of all men, very impracticable abstractions, little worth the attention of reasonable men. First of all, Zed was too late in bringing up the horses, and he had at least a hundred good excuses for the delay. Next, we had forgotten, in buying the saddle-bags, to buy any straps to fix them to the saddles. Then, no stores--or shops, as we