I had concluded that the wounded man still lay at the house on the other side of the Swamp, to which he had first been carried; and had it not been for an accident, we should have had a long ride for no purpose. Just as we approached what they called the new place, my horse began to go lame; and seeing an old negro standing at the door, I beckoned to him to come and take out the stone which I was sure had got jammed into the beast's hoof. The old man name up at a slow pace; and, as he approached, to my surprise, I found it was that very remarkable person, Uncle Jack. Between him and me, the stone was soon removed, and I happened to ask him, just as I was re-mounting, what he was doing there. "I am waiting to see Mr. Thornton again, sir," he said; "Mr. William Thornton. His son Robert, you know, is dead." "Do you mean to say the old man has been brought over here?" I exclaimed. "Yes, sir; he would be brought over last night, in spite of all remonstrance, and I fear he has killed himself thereby," was Uncle Jack's answer. I called to Mr. Wheatley, who had ridden on, and beckoned him back; and while he was returning, I proceeded to ask Uncle Jack what he meant by saying that he was waiting to see Mr. Thornton again. "Why you see, sir," answered the old negro-preacher, "I knew the gentleman whom you call the old man, when he was quite a little boy; and much used I to talk to him at that time, so that even when he had grown up to be a lad and did things which I hope God will forgive, I had much influence over him--very much for a poor ignorant negro to have over a well-educated white man. He would listen to _me_ when he would listen to nobody else; and, more or less, has done so all his life. So I came here as soon as I heard what had happened. I found him very rash and raving last night; but this morning he is down, sir--down, down, very low indeed--down in mind, and body, and heart; but it is by the blessing of God it is so, for I trust yet to bring his mind into a better frame to meet his Maker; and you know, sir, we must never despair, after the thief on the cross. This morning he listened to me quite willingly; and seemed to take comfort when I told him of mercy and pardon. Last night, he would not hear at all, but cursed and blasphemed till I was glad to get away." The concatenation of a black teacher and a white neophyte had probably not occurred since the days of the apostles; still I was very glad to avail myself of any circumstances which would enable me to obtain light in a matter where the whole feelings of my own heart and that of another were so deeply interested. There are some cases in the world were we know no compromise--where, for the sake of our own peace, we must know all, see all distinctly--really--as it is, lest there be, somewhere in the dark outskirts and corners of the den of circumstances, some incubus which may swell and grow, and oppress the heart till it crushes us to death.