In the year 1810 a manufacturing goldsmith of high respectability, named Gonne, lived in Crow Street, Dublin. His establishment was noted for the superior execution of chased work, especially in watch cases, and he had occasionally extensive orders from the house of Roskill, of Liverpool, the reputation of which for watches and chronometers, was then, as it is still, extremely high. Mr. Gonne indulged himself in the purchase of a splendid gold watch of Roskill's best make, and prided himself greatly on the possession of an article not to be surpassed either in exquisite ornamentation or accuracy of movement. He was fond of pedestrian excursions, and his hours of relaxation were frequently devoted to a ramble along the low road to Lucan, which is certainly not inferior in picturesque scenery, to any other of the many beautiful localities in the vicinity of Dublin; but on one night Mr. Gonne came home greatly disgusted with his promenade, and avowing a determination never again to set foot on _that nasty road_. He did not bring home his beautiful watch, and it transpired that a man, of small stature, had disturbed an agreeable revery by requesting to be accommodated with whatsoever money Mr. Gonne had in his possession, and that he also expressed great admiration of his watch, and insisted on the immediate delivery of that article. The propinquity of a pistol to Mr. Gonne's breast, induced a speedy compliance with the disagreeable demand. On his arrival in Dublin, Gonne declared that he had been robbed by _a little tailor_. He stated that the fellow's features were concealed by a veil, and that as soon as he got the watch and a small sum of money into his possession, he managed to ascend the wall of Woodlands demesne with surprising agility, and on it he seated himself _cross-legged_. He then addressed the victim of his depredation by name, and assured him that his watch should be safely kept, and that an opportunity should be afforded for redeeming it for ten pounds. Gonne apprised the authorities of the outrage which he had suffered. He declared that he never, to his knowledge, beheld the robber before; that he did not recognise his voice, but felt satisfied that he was a tailor, from the manner in which he sat on the wall. An experienced peace-officer who heard the description, agreed with Gonne that the delinquent was a tailor, and added that he knew the man. It appeared that there was a little knight of the thimble, of most remarkable activity, named Flood; he was of dissipated habits, and was known at the racket-court in John's Lane, where his play was most astonishing. He rarely missed a ball, and none would encounter him in a match of rackets, unless at very great odds. Flood was sought for, but was not forthcoming. Several of the provincial towns were searched in vain, and it was supposed that he had left the country, when he was apprehended, almost in the act of committing a