ce, on splayed and conical mud-washed
roots, the hundreds of strong cypresses towered from the water. Between
the steep banks of dark-colored pines, taller than the forest growth,
this furnace lake lay black and white and burning red as the shadows, or
moonrise, or flames struck upon it, and the stained water foamed through
the breast or dam where the ancient road crossed between pines,
cypresses and gum-trees of commanding stature.

Tawny, slimy, chilly, and solemn, the pond repeated the forms of the
groves it submerged; the shaggy shadows added depth and dread to the
effect; some strange birds hooted as they dipped their wings in the
surface, and, flying upward, seemed also sinking down. As Meshach felt
the chill of that pond he drew down his hat and buttoned up his coat.

"The earliest fools who turned up the bog ores for wealth," he said,
"released the miasmas which slew all the people roundabout. They killed
all my family, but set me free."

CHAPTER IV.

DISCOVERY OF THE HEIRLOOM.

Judge Custis was in his bedroom, in the second story of the large,
inn-like mansion at the middle of the village, and he was just
recovering from the effects of a long wassail. In his peculiar nervous
condition he started at the sound of wheels, and, drawing his curtains,
looked out upon the long shadow of an advancing figure crowned with a
steeple hat.

This human shadow strengthened and faded in the alternating light, until
it was defined against his storehouse, his warehouse, his cabins, and
the plain, and it seemed also against the wall of dense forest pines.
Then footsteps ascended the stairs. His door opened and Meshach Milburn,
with his holiday hat on his head, stood on the threshold; his eyes
vigilant and bold as ever, and all his Indian nature to the front.

"My God, Milburn!" exclaimed the Judge, "odd as it is to see you here, I
am relieved. Old Nick, I thought, was coming."

"Shall I come in?" asked Milburn.

"Yes; I'm sleeping off a little care and business. Let your man stay
outside on the porch. Draw up a chair. It's money, I suppose, that
brings you here?"

The money-lender carefully put his formidable hat upon a table, took a
distant chair, pushed his gaitered feet out in front, and laid a large
wallet or pocket-book on his lap. Then, addressing his whole attention
to the host, he appeared never to wink while he remained.

"Judge Custis," he said, straightforwardly, "the first time you came to
borrow