Next day at noon I called to see him; he had been fiddling remarkably well, and singing very merrily; but on my entering I found him busily employed at carving a head which was to take Bonaparte’s place, for that bold Scotchman would overpower him soon. He observed that carving was a trade in England, and that he did not expect to do so well at it before he made the trial; and further remarked that a man did not know what he could do until he set about it; and that he had never failed in anything he undertook. He said he had never seen any such show in England as that he was now working at; that he had only dreamed of his family, and had the impression that he must “go to work” and make them all; that if he did, it would be better with him, and if he did not, it would be bad with him; that he had worked ever since, by night and by day, and had not quite completed them yet; that there were a shoemaker and a tailor that had not come yet for want of room; that he should make room if he did not go away; that he had been here until he had become perfectly contented, and “contentment,” he said “was the brightest jewel in his life;” and that he never enjoyed himself better than he did at present with his family. In the evening I went in to see him again; and as my curiosity to know the origin of so singular a character was greatly excited, I hoped that the present would have proved a favorable opportunity to draw some information from him; but he cautiously and studiously avoided answering any questions relative to his previous life, and affected not to understand what I said to him.