He put down a quarter dollar by Smith, and said he would give it to him if he would make his puppets dance; but Smith would not take any notice of him, and young Perkins continued to urge him to the performance, but without effect, until now he was quite out of patience, and finally took up his money, which he had proposed giving for the exhibition, and left the gaol in quite an ill humor. After Perkins left the gaol Smith said, “now, if any of you want to see my family dance, you may see them in welcome;”—and took up his fiddle and went through the performance to the entire satisfaction of all present. Now the reader may account for this mysterious prediction and its fulfilment upon whatever grounds he pleases; but the arrival of the young man from sea that day, his coming to Kingston, and his being affronted by Smith in the jail, are facts which cannot be disputed. The writer is aware that he may incur the imputation of weakness for narrating some things relative to the prisoner; but as they are all characteristic of him, in a high degree, and when all united, set him forth before the world as a character singular and unprecedented, he considered that every part of his sayings and doings had their interest, and were necessary to be narrated. After closing the exhibition of his family for this time, he went on to say, that he had told his fortune from his tea-cup, and it came always alike; that he could tell a great deal by dreams. The devil helped fortune telling, he said, but dreams were the inspiration of God. When the hogs came to him by night he could tell a great deal by them. “Your neighbor,” he said to me, “had a black sow that had pigs, some black, some all white, and one with red dots before and behind.” By them he said he could tell much. I was aware that Mr. Perkins had a sow with young pigs, and I had the curiosity to look at them, but they did not answer to his description, and I consequently allowed these remarks of his relative to the sow and pigs to pass for nothing. However, in the evening, as I was leaving the jail, Smith said to me (and without a word having been said about my looking at the pigs.) “The pigs I told you about are not those you examined, they were six months old.” I made no reply, knowing that Mr. Scovil had a sow with pigs, answering to his description in every particular. On Saturday morning, Smith said to the jailer, “Your neighbor over the way there, has a sow that has gone away into the woods, and she has pups,—some all black, some all white, and some black and white, and she will come home before night, and when she comes, she will have but one pig, and that will be a plump black pig, and they will never know what became of the others.” Accordingly, the sow about 4 o’clock, came home with her one “plump black pig,” and was immediately driven back into the woods the way by which she appeared to have come; but according to the precise terms of Smith’s prediction, the others were never found!