After leaving the jail, Colonel S—­proposed a walk, and they proceeded along a street running at right angles with the jail, until they came to a corner where a large brick building was in process of erection.  The location was not in what might strictly be called “the heart of the city,” nor was it in the suburbs.  Carpenters and masons, both black and white, were busily employed in their avocations, and from the distance all seemed fair and moving with despatch.  As they approached nearer, cries and moans sounded upon the air, and rose high above the clatter of the artisans’ work.  The Captain quickened his pace, but the colonel, as if from a consciousness of the effect, halted, and would fain have retraced his steps.  “Come!” said the Captain, “let us hasten-they are killing somebody!” They approached the building, and entered by an open door in the basement.  The passage, or entry-way, was filled with all sorts of building materials; and on the left, another door opened into a long basement apartment, with loose boards laid upon the floor-joists overhead.  Here in this dark apartment was the suffering object whose moans had attracted their attention.  A large billet of wood, about six feet long and three feet square, which had the appearance of being used for a chopping-block, laid near.  A poor negro man, apparently advanced in years, was stripped naked and bent over the block, in the shape of a horse-shoe, with his hands and feet closely pinioned to stakes, driven in the ground on each side.  His feet were kept close together, and close up to the log, while he was drawn over, tight by the hands, which were spread open.  Thus, with a rope around his neck, tied in a knot at the throat, with each end carried to the pinion where his hands were secured, his head and neck were drawn down to the tightest point.  The very position was enough to have killed an ordinary human being in less than six hours.  His master, a large, robust man, with a strong Irish brogue, started at their appearance, as if alarmed at the presence of intruders, while holding his hand in the attitude of administering another blow.  “There! you infernal nigger; steal again, will you?” said he, frothing at the mouth with rage—­with his coat off, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, and his face, hands, arms and shirt-bosom so bespattered with blood, that a thrill of horror ran through the Captain.  On the ground lay several pieces of hoop, broken and covered with blood, while he held in his hand another piece, (which he had torn from a lime-cask,) reeking with blood, presenting the picture of a murderer bestained with the blood of his victim.  But the poor sufferer’s punishment had wasted his strength,—­his moans had become so faint as to be scarcely perceptible.  His posteriors were so cut and mangled that we could compare them to nothing but a piece of bullock’s-liver, with its tenacity torn by craven dogs.  His body was in a profuse perspiration, the sweat running from his neck and shoulders, while the blood streamed from his bruises, down his legs, and upon some shavings on the ground.  Just at this moment a boy brought a pail of water, and set it down close by the tyrant’s feet.  “Go away, boy!” said he, and the, boy left as quick as possible.  The Captain stood dismayed at the bloody picture.