To a European eye, accustomed to nothing but white faces, the sight of a number of negroes gathered together is a curious spectacle, to which people do not easily get accustomed. But very soon, other feelings, as we rode up, carried me away from the interest I felt in the spectacle of so many of what old Fuller calls, "God's images carved in ebony." The men rested at the sight of the overseer; the women rose; but, after a moment or two, some of them recognized me as aunt Bab's nephew, and as the man who had prevented them from being sold into another state. Great and loud was the excitement and the clamour. The word passed from mouth to mouth. The women and the men surrounded me; the little boys and girls tumbled head over heels; and though I do not think the Virginian negroes are very clamorous, a scene of din and excitement succeeded which made Billy Byles laugh, caused the overseer to smile, and prevented me, for some time, from explaining the object of my coming. At the first word, however, of probable danger to Bessy Davenport, everything was still. The capering and the singing and the laughing ceased; and the black, gleaming eyes were turned upon each other's faces, as if some terrible marvel had been told them. "What! our missie?" cried an old woman at length, in a deep, horrified tone. "Our Bessy! Have they hurt her? Oh, I will tear out the hearts of them! But it can't be! They darn't." I explained to her and those around that all was in uncertainty--that Bessy and I had escaped from the house of Mr. Stringer; but I had lost her in the wood, and that she certainly was now missing. Another silence fell upon them all; and it was clear, from the astonishment with which the tidings had been received, that Bessy had not found shelter there. At length, one tall man, of about forty, stepped forward, and asked in an eager tone,-- "How was she dressed, massa? Had she anything white about her?" "Yes," I answered; "she had a white shawl on, and a gown you might take for white, at a distance." The man mused, and spoke for a few moments in a low tone to a woman who had a baby in her arms. In the meanwhile, a lad of nineteen or twenty came forward, saying,-- "Didn't you tell us, sir, aunt Jenny was with her? Missus' cook that was." (I nodded my head.) "I'll find her; she is my aunt, massa, and been as good as a mother to me." "We'll find them both," said the big man, turning round again. "We'll find them both, living or dead. Massa Overseer, no offence, sir, I hope, but we can't work to-day, because we must find Miss Bessy and aunt Jenny. You know you can trust us. We'll all be back before sun-down; but find them we must, and we will. I think I know where to look." "Where, where?" I asked, eagerly. "No matter, just yet," answered the man. "P'r'aps I'm mistaken, but we'll find her, massa, be you sure of that, if there's a living man left of us."