It should have been remarked before that the Texan, although shrewd enough to dupe Brower, was in turn made a dupe himself. Arriving in Philadelphia, on their way from New Orleans, he fell in with two showmen, Thompson and Miller, who soon succeeded in getting possession of the girl, and it was they who had carried her to, and in whose possession she was found, in England. As Thompson and Miller had been most successful in their exhibitions of her (in the course of three years arising from poverty to comparative affluence), it was not to be presumed they would willingly abandon the hope of again possessing her, be the means of possessing what they would. Mr. Smith, the mother and the subject of our sketch, being now free to depart, made their preparations openly to return. The Atlantic had made a return trip and was then at the Liverpool docks. The now happy party again took passage upon her, and after a prosperous voyage reached New York. There they took the cars and were soon landed safely in the good old State of North Carolina. Astonishing as it may appear, scarcely had the party reached home when those who had caused so many sleepless nights and days of anguish and trouble made their appearance in Charlotte, distant from the girl’s home fifty-five miles, evidently intent upon another attempt to regain the rich prize they so fraudulently had possession of for a time, but now wrested from their avaricious grasp. The citizens of Charlotte, learning of their presence and intentions, concluded to give them an admirably fitting suit, composed of good _tar_ and excellent _feathers_, and the freedom of the streets for promenading, with the company of a lusty negro to keep time to _quickstep_ on the end of a large tin kettle. Thompson and Miller, by accident, learning the intentions of the Charlottins, concluded “discretion was the better part of valor” and decamped by night, and since then nothing has been heard of either in North Carolina, and the only thing to remind you of their visit to that section is the chorus of a negro song heard at the corn shuckings: Massa Tomsin run a race; Oh! oh! o-o-o yah! He beat de fastest hoss in de place; Yah, oh yah! O La!