Scipio proposed that he should wade in to the first abutment, ascertain the depth of the stream, and then, if it was not found too deep for the horse to ford to that point, we would drive that far, get out, and walk to the end of the planking, leading the horse, and then again mount the wagon at the further end of the bridge. We were sure the horse would have to swim in the middle of the current, and perhaps for a considerable distance beyond; but, having witnessed his proficiency in aquatic performances, we had no doubt of his getting safely across. The darky's plan was decided on, and divesting himself of his trowsers, he waded into the 'run' to take the soundings. While he was in the water my attention was attracted to a printed paper, posted on one of the pines near the roadside. Going up to it, I read as follows:-- $250 REWARD. Ran Away from the subscriber, on Monday, November 12th, his mulatto man, SAM. Said boy is stout-built, five feet nine inches high, 31 years old, weighs 170 lbs., and walks very erect, and with a quick, rapid gait. The American flag is tattooed on his right arm above the elbow. There is a knife-cut over the bridge of his nose, a fresh bullet-wound in his left thigh, and his back bears marks of a recent whipping. He is supposed to have made his way back to Dinwiddie County, Va., where he was raised, or to be lurking in the swamps in this vicinity. The above reward will be paid for his confinement in any jail in North or South Carolina, or Virginia, or for his delivery to the subscriber on his plantation at ----. D. W. J----. ----, December 2, 1860. The name signed to this hand-bill was that of the planter I was about to visit. Scipio having returned, reporting the stream fordable to the bridge, I said to him, pointing to the 'notice,'-- 'Read that, Scip.' He read it, but made no remark. 'What does it mean--that fresh bullet wound, and the marks of a recent whipping?' I asked. 'It mean, massa, dat de darky hab run away, and ben took; and dat when dey took him dey shot him, and flogged him arter dat. Now, he hab run away agin. De Cunnel's mighty hard on his niggas!' 'Is he! I can scarcely believe that.' 'He am, massa; but he ain't so much to blame, nuther; dey'm awful bad set, most ob 'em,--so dey say.' Our conversation was here interrupted by our reaching the bridge. After, safely 'walking the plank,' and making our way to the opposite bank, I resumed it by asking,-- 'Why are the Colonel's negroes so particularly bad?'