All his figures were formed of straw from his bedding, curiously entwined and interwoven. The colouring he had used before was his own blood, and coal which he got from a piece of burnt timber in the jail; and their first clothing was made from his own torn clothes. He now began to talk more coherently and accounted for the broken glass. He said to me,—“My drummer cried out for more air;” his family stood so thick about him. “Well,” said I “tell me how to get more air and I will go to work at it. He told me to make a strong whisp of straw, long enough to reach the glass and break it, which I did, and then after undoing the whisp put the straw in my bed again.” He continued improving his family, by dressing and painting them all anew, and by adding to their number. He said there was a gentleman and lady coming from France to attend his ball, and all of them must perform well. With the money he received from visitors, many of whom I have known to give him a dollar for one exhibition, he purchased calico enough for a curtain or screen. In front of the partition stood all his family which he continued to improve and increase, until he said they were all present and were coming to the ball; and about the 10th August completed his show for exhibition. The whole consisted of twenty-four characters, male and female, six of which beat music in concert with the fiddle, while sixteen danced to the tune; the other two were pugilists; Bonaparte with his sword fighting an Irishman with his shillelah. His musicians were dressed in their proper uniform; some were drummers, some were tamborine players, and some were bell-ringers. In the centre stood his dancing master, with his hat, boots and gloves on. In an advanced station stood an old soldier in Scotch uniform, acting as sentinel, while Smith himself stood before them, his feet under the curtain, playing a tune on the fiddle, to which they would all dance or beat in perfect harmony with the music—the one half on the right to one part of the tune, and the other half on the left to the other part, and then all together as regular and as natural as life. The dancing master with his right hand and foot with one part, and his left hand and foot with the other, and then with the whole together, with the utmost ease, to any tune that was played. So ingenious, and I may say, so wonderful was the exhibition, that it is impossible to do justice to its description; and numbers of persons from different parts came to indulge their curiosity by witnessing the performance, and all expressed their astonishment in terms the most unqualified. Doctor Prior, a gentleman from Pennsylvania, was among the number of visitors. He told me that he had spent most of his time in foreign parts, travelling for general and literary information, and had made it a point to examine all curiosities, both natural and artificial, and that having heard much of an extraordinary