every corner of the apartment themselves, and found that Smith had not only effected his escape, but had also carried his money, his boots, and every article of clothing away with him. It is impossible to conceive or describe the feeling of astonishment with which every one about the house was filled, when they found that the man, who had been groaning and agonizing under the pain of an accumulation of diseases, which night after night, seemed to have been wasting his strength, and bringing him nearer the close of his unhappy life—had, in a moment, and the very moment which was thought to be his last, seized the opportunity of his prison door being open, and rushed from his confinement, leaving not a vestige of his moveables behind him. As soon as a search through the prison confirmed the fact of the elopement, the inmates hastened outside, and continued their search around the premises. At this moment, Amy, the wench, made her appearance, carrying the feather bed; and seeing the people around the house said to them: “Misses send this bed for Smit to die on.” Her master told her to take it home, and tell her mistress that Smith was gone. Amy ran home and told her mistress that massa say Smit dead and gone—he no want im bed! “Ah!” exclaimed her mistress, “poor man, is he dead? Then, Amy, you may run and carry this shirt and winding sheet, to lay Smith out in.” Amy instantly obeyed, and told her master accordingly. “You may take them back,” said he, “Smith is gone!” “Where he gone, massa?” “I don’t know,” said he, “except the devil has taken him off!” Amy hastened back to her mistress, and told her that “massa say Smit be dead and gone, and the devil has taken him away!” So much was the mind of every one prepared to hear of his death, that the expression, “Smith is gone!” served to convey no other idea. The sheriff himself, who had not been present, and did not hear of the affair immediately, gave the sentence the same interpretation. A messenger having been dispatched to him with the tidings, met him on his way to the gaol, expecting to witness the last moments of the patient. On being informed by the messenger that “Smith was gone,” “Ah poor fellow,” he exclaimed, “I expected it.” “What time did he die?” “But he is gone clear off.” “It is impossible,” rejoined the Sheriff, “that he can be far from his sick bed.” “Why,” replied the messenger, “they were all about the gaol looking for him, and no one could tell which way he had gone.” “Unparalleled and abominable deception!” replied the sheriff. “How did he get out of gaol!” He believed John Dibble left the door open while he ran to beat a brick, and then Smith made his escape.