"How I wish that our vigilants had caught that low-minded Abolition whelp, PETERS," continued the Virginian, grinding his teeth; "but he disappeared so suddenly that day, that I was entirely bewildered. To think that the hound--my cousin's son as he is--should dare to demand payment of a bill from a Southern gentleman! He will find congenial souls among LINCOLN'S hordes, I reckon." The speaker evidently recognized the fact that a man with a bill to collect would derive very little benefit from Southern hoards, at any rate. A close observer might have noticed that Miss LIBBY'S cheeks betrayed the faintest tint of virgin wine at this last speech of her father's; but as it is not my business to inquire the wine wherefore of everything, I shall say no more about that at present. While speaking, the paternal ORDETH had placed his hand unconsciously as it were on the knob of the door; and now, with a sudden movement, he opened the door. Or rather, he simply turned the knob; for the door fairly forced itself open against him, and there unexpectedly tumbled half way into the room a somewhat venerable person from Afric's sunny fountains. From the manner in which this colored person fell across the sill, it was evident that he had been upon his knees the instant before. The ladies uttered little shrieks and then went on with their hoe-cake; but Mr. ORDETH viewed the intruder with a glance of suspicion. "JOCKO, you black reskel!" said he, in a suppressed manner, "what are you doing here?" The oppressed African, who, like most slaves was pious, rose to his feet with touching humility, and said he: "Ise watchin', Mars'r, for de Angel of de Lor'." "Oh," returned the haughty Virginian, scorning to show how deeply he was affected, "you're watchin' for that, are you?" "Yes, Mars'r," said the attached slave; "and I hab pray dat my good Mars'r may gib up drinkin' and be one of the good angels too. Oh, Mars'r ORDETH, I hab wrastle much for you in prayer." I know not how that slaveholder's heart was affected by this beautiful instance of his humble bondman's devotion; but I do know, _mon ami_, that he reached forth his right hand, seized the chattel by the collar, and was heard to carry on a blasphemous conversation with him for the space of fifteen minutes thereafter, in the hall. CHAPTER II.--"ROBERT, ROBERT TOI QUE J'AIME." In a room directly over the one last mentioned--a room whose only furniture was a rude bedstead, a looking-glass with a writing-table under it and a gas-bracket extending half way across it, and a lounge extemporized from three tea-boxes and a quilt--stood Mr. BOB PETERS, aged twenty-three, a bachelor and a fellow man. The time was just twenty-four hours after the scene depicted in my first chapter, and as the rays of the sunny Southern sun poured through a window upon the figure of Mr. BOB PETERS, they revealed an individual who was evidently unable, just then, to make a raise himself.