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the trial came on, in the Court House. There was no possible chance of saving him by law, so we made as great a noise about it as possible, to awaken sympathy, and a proper sense of justice in the public mind. The Court House was literally filled with white and coloured persons. Barristers were employed on both sides. Some technical question arose between them, and they became much excited, questioning each others veracity and integrity; they rose on their feet, face to face, and each kept appealing to the Judge. The people were thoroughly excited, and their attention was wholly fixed on the Barristers and the Judge. The prisoner, in charge of the Sheriff, stood near the bar, and close behind were the people. Near the prisoner stood my friend, he put his hat on the prisoner's head, who, taking the hint, immediately bowed himself to the floor, and, on his hands and knees, made his way between the legs of the crowded assembly, and escaped, and was, in a few minutes, out of sight. When the Judge had decided the point at issue, the Sheriff found the prisoner missing, and exclaimed hastily,—"Where is the prisoner?—where is the prisoner?" The enquiry went throughout the Court House. The crowd simultaneously rushed towards the door; those who had committed themselves to Negro-catching were most eager in the search for the prisoner, for the paltry reward offered by the owner. The more respectable por-
