After the lapse of two weeks, a box and parcel came in the care of a gentleman for him from New York. Another week elapsed, during which time Mr. Jones, in whose care it came, thought it strange why he did not call, and as he was driving past, he called to see Mr. Morse, to let him know that a package had arrived for him. He enquired for Mr. Morse. He then returned home, opened the parcel, and found among other things, a letter from his wife which stated a dissatisfaction at his boarding at a tavern, which seemed rather uncommon among Quakers, as she said.--She was sorry it was not in his power to come home sooner, as it seemed that he stated to her that he should stop there some time. She said she hoped that he was in good health, but was much afraid that he was not, for she was annoyed with disagreeable dreams about him, and it was utterly impossible for her to rest. These things looked strange; suspicions spread around the neighborhood, until some persons came into the store, who said they talked with Mr. Morse, in Walters’ tavern, a few days after his going there, when some remarked the idle, sauntering fellows that were perpetually hovering about there, having no business, and many other circumstances were alluded to, until suspicion became so strong in the minds of the people, that they finally resolved to make a private search, but not until Mr. Jones, accompanied by some others, went again to make enquiry. The answer was the same as before, but she seemed a little confused which strengthened their suspicions.