The power of that little pamphlet, of which I have said so much, to produce an effect for which we must charitably suppose it was not intended, was shown in the numbers of wretches by whom the prison was crowded; for it had been used to inflame the passions of the negroes on several different estates, all of whom had agreed to rise in insurrection, although, as it providentially happened the revolt extended to the length of murder only on Ridgewood Hill. The conspiracy was detected--I believe confessed by a slave--on a plantation adjacent to that of my master's son; who, being informed of it, and assisted by a party that brought the news, proceeded to seize the ringleaders in his own gang, some of whom, attempting to make their escape, were fired on; and this was the cause of the volley which we had heard, and supposed was fired by our fellow-conspirators beyond the creek. The major then crossed over to his father's estate, but too late to avert the tragedy which I have related. His father, his eldest sister, and her lover were already dead; as for the younger, Edith, she was taken up alive, but cruelly mangled, and she expired in a few hours. The faithful and devoted overseer, I have the happiness to believe, ultimately escaped with his life; for, although covered with wounds, and at first reported dead, he revived sufficiently to make deposition to the facts of the assault and murder, as far as he was cognizant of them, and I heard he was expected to recover. Of those who perished, the father, the children, and the gallant friend, there was not one who was not, a fortnight before, respected and beloved by those who slew them; and at their death-hour they were as guiltless of wrong, and as deserving of affection and gratitude, as they ever had been. How, therefore, they came to be hated, and why they were killed, I am unable to divine. All that I know is, that we who loved them read a book which fell in our way, and from that moment knew them only as enemies--objects on whom we had a right to glut our fiercest passions. As for ourselves--my deluded companions, at least--their fate can be easily imagined. Some were killed at the scene of murder; among others the chief leader, Governor, who was shot on the roof of the house. Parson Jim was wounded on the same place, and, rolling from the roof, was horribly crushed by the fall, but lingered in unspeakable agonies for several days, and then died. Scipio, the fiddler, was taken alive, tried, condemned, and executed, with many others whose participation in the crime left them no hope of mercy.