Carefully making his observations, he passed from point to point up and down the intrenchment lines, out to the Richmond pike, and beyond to the Petersburg railroad. Concealing himself during the day, he scouted again on the second night. The defences of the enemy were noted, with the general disposition and number of the troops. Long after this he wrote, "[I was] in possession of such valuable information that if I could only have got back with it, all the time, treasure, and blood which have been spent before Petersburg would have been spared. It could have been captured then with very small loss." But the attempt to regain the Union lines must be postponed until the following night, now that the dawn of the second day found him far from his starting point; so, seeking a secluded spot in the forest, near Chester Station, he concealed himself in its cover, and was soon fast asleep. THE CAPTURE.--THE DUNGEON.--THE GALLOWS. Awaking after a few hours, he heard the unexpected murmur of voices near him. A change of position had been made by some of the troops, and he was surrounded by the enemy. He hardly moved before he was discovered. "A sharp clang, a steel clang! And terror in the sound; For the sentry, falcon-eyed, In the camp a spy hath found: With a sharp clang, a steel clang, The patriot is bound." As a prisoner he was hurried before Brig.-Gen. Johnson, and by him sent forward to Gen. Beauregard's headquarters. The order to him from Gen. Butler, being found on his person, gave color to the charge that he was an authorized spy; and the first proposition was to hang him at once to a tree. Indeed, he was told that his body should swing before sundown. But from some reason it was decided to try him by formal court-martial; and he was sent to Petersburg, where he was shut in a vile hole, underneath the jail, "a low, filthy dungeon," as he described it, "dark, gloomy, and crawling with vermin." Those who have never been prisoners of war under special charges, in the gloom of solitary confinement, with the staring gallows threatened, cannot fully realize the terribleness of Henry Manning's struggle of mind during that first night in the Petersburg dungeon. Earnestly did he call on God for strength, that, if he must yield his young life thus and then, he might be faithful even unto such a death. And God sustained him. GLOOM OF THE STOCKADE AND JAIL. "I will lift up mine eyes to the hills."