It was his
practice to take a very large dose of it immediately after breakfast
each morning- or, rather, immediately after a cup of strong coffee,
for he ate nothing in the forenoon- and then set forth alone, or
attended only by a dog, upon a long ramble among the chain of wild and
dreary hills that lie westward and southward of Charlottesville, and
are there dignified by the title of the Ragged Mountains.
Upon a dim, warm, misty day, toward the close of November, and
during the strange interregnum of the seasons which in America is
termed the Indian Summer, Mr. Bedloe departed as usual for the
hills. The day passed, and still he did not return.
About eight o'clock at night, having become seriously alarmed at his
protracted absence, we were about setting out in search of him, when
he unexpectedly made his appearance, in health no worse than usual,
and in rather more than ordinary spirits. The account which he gave of
his expedition, and of the events which had detained him, was a
singular one indeed.
"You will remember," said he, "that it was about nine in the morning
when I left Charlottesville. I bent my steps immediately to the
mountains, and, about ten, entered a gorge which was entirely new to
me. I followed the windings of this pass with much interest.
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