"Yas, sar," replied the old man. "He tole me dat he had trabbled an' seen sites, but dat he nebber was so 'stonish befo'; he did not spec' to see at de end ob de kunel such a putty place; an' dat I wud hear som time what he was gwine tu say 'bout it." "That was Tom Moore, the Irish poet," said Mr. W. "De who?" interrupted Tony. "He came to this country," continued Mr. W. "to visit the Lake, as being one of the wonders of nature, and you were fortunate in having to wait on such a distinguished person." Tom Moore, after he had arrived in this country, no doubt heard of the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, and when he reached Norfolk, Va., and the story of the fair maiden and her lover being fresh, might have induced him to visit it, and it was on that occasion that he penned the following lines: "They made her a grave that was too cold and damp, For a soul so warm and true." His poem on the "Lake of the Dismal Swamp," no doubt, is familiar with every person of ordinary information, and can be found in every library, and should be read by every person who has never done so. CHAPTER VI. PORTE CRAYON'S VISIT, INCIDENTS, ETC. At a much later date the Lake was visited by Porte Crayon, who was at that time writing for Harper's Monthly. The account given of his trip, with his illustrations, are very life-like and interesting, and in the February or March number of that valuable book, for the year 1857, you will be greatly amused at the description there given. Two darkies, Eli Chalk and Jim Pearce, were the drivers of the pleasure boat furnished by W. S. Riddick, Esq., the then agent of the Dismal Swamp Land Company, in which he was carried to the Lake. He was there some two or three days, and his writings should be read to be appreciated. It was at the Lake that we saw Uncle "Alek," of whom a fac-simile likeness is given in the book above referred to. Uncle "Alek" was a superanuated old colored man, belonging to the Reverend Jacob Keeling, Rector of the Episcopal Churches in Nansemond county, Virginia. He was quite old, and retained his memory to a remarkable degree. He was called the "Bee Hunter" of the Dismal Swamp, and, if I am not mistaken, had a bag of bees in his hand when Porte first met him. He would follow bees for a long distance, cutting his way through the reeds for miles in a straight line, until he came to the tree in which was the hollow. Then he would take out the bees, put them into a bag and bring them out. In going to the Lake you could see numberless paths cut by Uncle Alek for that purpose. The opening through the reeds would look to be about two feet wide and ten feet high, which was almost the length of the reeds. Uncle Alek worked in the swamp nearly all his life, was a faithful hand, and in his old age the company gave him a house and a piece of land, as a home during his natural life. A mule was also given to him by the company, which mule I had the honor of riding at a tournament at Suffolk, Va., in 1860.