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Henry More Smith: The Mysterious Stranger

<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> Smith Becomes a Fortune Teller and Startles the Gaoler—Foretells His Own Release—Pardoned by the Court he Refuses to Leave the Gaol which He Sets on Fire in a Mysterious Way—Finally Shipped on a Schooner to Nova Scotia with his Marionettes. <div class='c008'> <ANTIMG class='drop-capi' src='images/ch8-capt.jpg' width-obs='100' alt='' /></div> The next morning, when the gaoler went in to see him, Smith said he had been fishing, and had caught a large fish. The gaoler, on looking, perceived the chain which Smith had formerly worn about his neck, and had been missing a long time, but never could find out where or by what means he concealed it. After this he commenced a new scene of mystery, that of fortune-telling; in which, if he did not possess the power of divination, he was wonderfully successful. The gaoler carried him his breakfast, with tea; Smith observed to him that he could tell him anything, past or to come. The gaoler then asked him to tell him something that had happened to him. Smith replied,—“Some time ago you rode a great way on my account, and carried letters and papers about me, and about others too. Again you went after a man, and you had to go on the water before you found him, and I am not sure that you found him on the water. While you were after him you saw a man at work in the mud on the highway, and you enquired of him, for the man you wanted. He told you what you asked. You then asked him if there was any water near, that you could drink. He told you of a place where he had drank; you went to it, but found the water so bad you did not drink it.” The gaoler was greatly astonished at this, knowing the whole affair to be true just as he had stated, and had no recollection of ever having mentioned the circumstance to any person. Perhaps all this may be attempted to be explained away in some manner, or may be attributed merely to his imagination, or the hazard of an opinion; but it would be a coincidence not to be expected, and very unlikely to happen. Besides, he often hit upon a development of facts, which could not be accounted for, but upon the supposition of some mysterious knowledge of things beyond the reach of common conception, as the following particulars will fully testify: The next morning, Aug. 13, he told me his own fortune out of his tea-cup. After looking into the cup for some time, he kissed it, and told the gaoler he was going away from this place, that he was going over the water, and must have a box to put his family in; that he saw three papers that were written and sent about him, and that one of them was larger than the other two, and contained something for him that he did not understand, but he would soon know. The next morning, Aug. 14th, he looked in his cup again, and told the gaoler that these papers were on their way coming, and would be here this day at 4 o’clock, and he would soon know what they contained about him. Accordingly I received papers from Fredericton, containing his pardon, and two letters just as he had predicted!! In addition to this, the following must be regarded as a very singular and remarkable prediction, which, independently of some unknown mysterious means, cannot be accounted for. Early in the morning he remarked to the gaoler in his usual manner: “This man over the way has a son who has gone to sea, and is at sea now; but he will be here this night, and you shall see that I will affront him.” Now mark the sequel. It so happened that a fresh breeze springing up to the southward, with a strong flood tide, the vessel which contained the young man was alongside in the dock in St. John, on the same day about two o’clock. He was then and there informed that one of his sisters lay dangerously ill at Kingston, and that Dr. Smith was just going up to visit her. The young man hired a horse, and in company with the doctor, arrived at his father’s about the time that we usually visited the prisoner in the evening. I called at Mr. Perkins’, and found that the doctor and young Perkins had just arrived. The doctor said to me that he had heard much of my extraordinary prisoner, and if I had no objection, he should be much pleased to see him and his show, he had heard so much of his great performance. Young Mr. Perkins said he would also like to see the show, and all went with me into the gaol and found Smith lying on his bed, but without appearing to take notice of any one present. Mr. Perkins, like everyone else, was much astonished at the appearance of his show, as it was exhibited on the wall, and had a great desire to see the performance. 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! The next evening after I had received his pardon from Fredericton, I went to see him, and found him, in bed, but he said he could not eat; asked for some new potatoes, and remarked that the jailer’s wife had new potatoes yesterday; and did not appear in his usual good humor. Although he would both talk and act at times rationally, yet he had never recovered from his pretended insanity, nor even until his release from my custody, thus carrying out his scheme, in perfect wisdom, to the last. But now, with the pardon in my hand, I hoped to make some impression upon him, and if possible, bring him to some sense of his situation, by compassionately proposing my assistance to get him out of the Province. I then proceeded to inform him that I had received his pardon, that his attorney had proved his friend, and had petitioned the president and court, stating that he was a young man, and this having been the first instance of a case for horse-stealing before the court in this Province, prayed that mercy might be extended and his life spared; and that president and council had been graciously pleased to withdraw the sentence and grant his pardon; and that I was now authorized to release him on his entering into recognizance to appear in the Supreme court and plead his pardon when called upon. The only reply made was, “I wish you would bring me some new potatoes when you come again.” I proceeded to say that as soon as he was ready, and would let me know where he wished to go, I would give him clothing, and would give him time to put his family in order, and a box to put them up in; observing that they might be a means of getting him a living until he could find better employment, without being driven to the necessity of stealing. He replied. “Have you not got boys and girls that wish to see my family dance? Bring all your family to see them; I will show them as much as you please, but others must pay.” I remained with him nearly an hour afterwards without saying any more on the subject of his Pardon; during which time he continued to talk incoherently as he had done the evening before. That we must watch and pray lest we enter into temptation; that he prayed with his family; they could not pray for themselves; that we must be spiritually minded, for to be spiritually minded was life; but to be carnally minded was death; and much more of this kind, repeating large portions from the New Testament, nearly whole chapters. He observed, “Now you see I can read as well to you without the book as others can with the book. I can read you almost all of any other chapter in the Bible you will name, either in the Old or New Testament, it makes not much difference; in the dark as well as in the light. My wife is a good little woman; she would get the Bible on Sunday, and say to me, ‘Henry, come sit down and hear me read the Bible’; but I would laugh, and tell her I could read better without the book than she could with it, and go out and look after my horse, or do anything on Sundays. I have been a bad fellow; when I was in England I gave all my attention to reading my Bible, and became a great Methodist, and went to all the Methodist meetings, and would pray and exhort amongst them, and finally became a preacher and preached in Brighton, Northampton, Southampton, and in London; and great numbers came to hear me. I was sometimes astonished to see how many followed to hear me preach the Scriptures, when I knew they were deceived. But I did not follow preaching long in London.” He went on to state his reasons for giving up preaching, or rather the reasons that prevented his continuing to preach. He had given himself up to the company of lewd women, and had contracted the disease common to such associations. A course like this could not remain long concealed, and the issue was that he was prevented from preaching, and was eventually obliged to leave England, and come to this country. He went on to say—“I have been a bad young man. I am young now, only twenty-three years of age—not twenty-four yet”; and did not know but he would preach again; he could easily find converts; many would like to hear him preach. When he was a preacher he was spiritually minded, and all was peace and heaven to him; but ever since all was trouble, and misery to him. He never intended to leave this place; he was contented and willing to stay here until he died; he was better off here than anywhere else, and never wished to go into the world again unless he was a preacher. After hearing him talk in this manner for some time, I left him till the next day at noon, when I went to the gaol again, and gave him a good dinner, and read his pardon to him. When he saw the paper, he said, “That looks like the paper which I dreamed I saw, with two angels and a ship on it, with something that looked like snakes.” When I read his pardon he paid not the least attention to the nature of it, but asked questions as foreign to the nature of the subject as possible; only he said he wished I would give him that paper; he dreamed it was coming. I told him as soon as I would get him some clothes made, I would give him the paper; and that I would help him away with his show in a box, and that he might not be driven to the necessity of stealing; and in the evening I went with a tailor to take his measure for a coat. When he saw the tailor with his measure, he said, “I wish you would give me that ribbon in your hand.” “It is no ribbon,” said the tailor, “but a measure to measure you for a new coat; come stand up.” “What!” said he, “do you think you are tailor enough to make me a coat!” “Yes.” “But you do not look like it; let me look at your hands and fingers,” and upon seeing them, he added, “you are no tailor, you look more like blacksmith, you shall never make a coat for me,” and would not be measured, but he said he would make it better himself, and wished I would give him a candle to work by, and he would make himself a waistcoat. He said I need not be afraid of his doing any harm with the candle, he would put it in the middle of the floor, and take care that his straw and chips did not take fire and burn up his family, which he could not live without, as he could not labor for his living. Besides, he said, if he were so disposed, he could burn up the house without a candle; for, said he, I can make fire in one hour at any time. “When I was a boy,” continued he, “every one took notice of me as a very forward boy, and I obtained a license for shooting when I was but fifteen. One day when shooting I killed a rabbit on a farmer’s land where I had no right. The old farmer came after me, and I told him if he would come near me I would knock him down, but he caught me, and tied me fast to a large stack of faggots, and sent for a constable. While he was gone I made fire, and burned up the whole stack, and got off clear; but the old farmer never knew how the faggots took fire. You do not use faggots in this country—they are little sticks tied up in bundles, and sold to boil the tea-kettle with; and if I would give him a candle, he would make a fire to light it. Accordingly I provided materials for his clothes, and a lighted candle to work by. He continued to sew by the light of the candle but a short time and put it away from him, and said he could see better without it; he completed his waistcoat in the neatest manner, and occasionally attended to the improvement of his family.” August 29th, at evening, many persons came to see his performance, as was usual, and when they were all gone out, he told me that he had carved a new figure of Bonaparte; that the first he had made after his own image and likeness, for he was the man after his own heart, but he had fallen. God, he said, made man out of the dust of the earth, but he had made man out of the wood of the earth. He had now been in my custody more than a year, and almost every day developed some new feature of his character, or produced some fresh effort of his genius. I had had much trouble with him, and my patience often severely tried; but now I viewed him rather as an object of commiseration, and I could not think of turning him out of the gaol naked, destitute and friendless. In such a situation he must starve or steal, so that his pardon and release must become rather a curse than a blessing. I represented these things as feelingly as I could to him, gave him a box to put his family in, and told him he must be ready to leave the Province on Tuesday morning, and I would procure him a passage either to Nova Scotia or the United States. To all this he gave no attention, but asked some frivolous questions about Mohawks and snakes, and acted the fool, so that I began to conclude that I would now have much more trouble to get him out of gaol than I formerly had to keep him in it. The next day Judge Pickett and Judge Micheau attended at the court house, to take the recognizances required of him to appear and plead his pardon when called upon to do so. After divesting him of his irons, and furnishing him with decent clothing, it was with much difficulty I could prevail on him to leave the gaol. However, he finally took one of his family in one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other, and with much effort we got him up into one of the jury rooms, when Judge Micheau read his pardon to him, and explained all the circumstances which united to produce it, to which, as usual, he gave no attention, but looked about the room and talked of something else. Judge Pickett required his recognizance, and informed him that if he did not leave the Province immediately he would be taken and tried on two indictments in the county of York. He took no notice of what was said, but talked and danced about the room, told the judge he looked like a tailor, and asked him to give him his shoe string. His pardon, lying on the table, he caught hold of, and before it could be recovered from him, he clipped off the seal with the scissors; he said he wanted the ship that was on it to carry him away with his family. He tore the collar off his coat, and cut it in pieces with the scissors. Finding that nothing else could be done with him, I returned him again into prison, when he said to us that for our using him so kindly, he would, for one shilling, show us all his performance with his family. Upon which Judge Micheau gave him half a dollar, and told him to return a quarter dollar change, and then he would have more than a shilling. He took it, and said it was a nice piece of money, and put it in his pocket, but the judge could not make him understand the meaning of change. He then performed the exhibition in fine style, but when we were leaving him he seemed out of humor with Judge Pickett, and told him that he had thrown stones at him, that he would burn his house, and that this place would be in flames before morning. He could make a fire in half an hour, and wanted a fire, and would have a fire, and I should see that he could make fire. Upon which we left him, without apprehending anything from his threats more than usual. But the next day, the 29th, when entering the gaol for the purpose of preparing for his removal, I perceived that there was much smoke in the hall, which I supposed had come from the gaoler’s room, but he said that no smoke had been caused that morning, but that it proceeded from the prison door. I immediately opened the door, and found Smith sitting quite unconcerned before a fire which he had made with the chips of his carved work, and other materials. He observed to me that fire was very comfortable, that he had not seen any before for a long time, that he had made the fire with his own hands, and that he could make it again in ten minutes; that he could not do without one. I immediately extinguished the fire, and shut him up in the suffocating smoke, which did not seem to give him the least inconvenience. The account of his having made the fire excited the neighbors, who came in to see the feat. I ordered him to put his family into his box immediately; he took no notice of my orders. I hastily took down one of them, and laid it in his box, at which he seemed pleased, and said he would put them all in that box, and began to take them down very actively, observing that he did not want assistance from any one, but leave him with the light and he would have them all ready in half an hour. We left him with the candle, and returning in about an hour, found him walking the floor, and every thing he had packed up in the box very neatly. It was remarkable to see with what skill and ingenuity he had packed them up. I gave him a pair of new shoes and with the box on his shoulders, he marched off to the boat that I had prepared for his conveyance, and with three men in the boat we set out with him for the city of Saint John. On the way he told the gaoler, if he would give him but one dollar he would teach him the way to make fire on any occasion. Receiving no reply from the gaoler, he commenced preaching, praying, and singing hymns, and sometimes acting as if crazy, during the passage down. We made no stop by the way, and reached Saint John about 8 o’clock in the evening. On his perceiving the moon as she made her appearance between two clouds, he observed that here was a relation of his that he was glad to see; that he had not seen one of his name for a long time. On our arrival at the prison in Saint John, he said he must have a hot supper with tea, and then wished to be locked up in a strong room, where he might have all his family out to take the air to-night, else they would all die in that box before morning. However, we found all the rooms in the prison occupied, or undergoing repairs, so that there was no place to confine him. I directed the gaoler to provide him with his supper, while I would call upon the sheriff to know what would be done with him for the night, and how he would be disposed of in the morning. I understood from the sheriff that there was no vessel to sail for the States for some days, and therefore made up my mind that I should send him to Nova Scotia. When I returned to the gaol I found Smith at his supper; when he had finished his tea, he looked into his cup and remarked that he must not disturb his family to-night; that he there saw the vessel, then lying at the wharf, that would carry him to his wife—and there would be crying. While in confinement, the following letter was received from his wife: Dear Husband—I received your letter of the 22nd Oct., 1815. You say you have sent several letters—if you have, I have never received them. You wish me to come and see you, which I would have done, if I had got the letter in time; but I did not know whether you were in Kingston or not. My dear, do not think hard of me that I do not come to see you—if you write back to me I shall come immediately. My dear, as soon as you receive this letter send me an answer, that I may know what to do; so no more at present, but that I remain your loving and affectionate wife. <div class='nf-center-c0'> <div class='nf-center c014'> <div>H. F. M. S., Kingston. Elizabeth P. M. S.</div> </div></div> The gaoler, by direction of the sheriff, cleared out a small room above stairs, with an iron-grated window where we confined him, with his family, for the night. On the next morning, the 30th of August, finding that there was no vessel bound for the States, I determined to send him to Nova Scotia; and happening to meet with my friend, Mr. Daniel Scovil, he informed me that he had a vessel then lying at the wharf, which would sail for Windsor, Nova Scotia, in half an hour. I accordingly prevailed on him to take Smith on board, which was done without loss of time, and at high water the vessel hauled off from the wharf, to my great satisfaction and relief. While the vessel was getting under weigh, Smith was in the cabin alone, and seeing a great number of chain traces lying on the cabin floor, he took them up and threw them all out of the cabin window! “Because,” said he, “they would get about my neck again.” During the passage he appeared very active; he played on his fife and was quite an agreeable passenger. But on the vessel’s arrival at Windsor, he left her immediately without any ceremony; and notwithstanding the very strong regard which he had always possessed for his family as he called them, he left them also, and everything else that he had brought with him. He was seen only a very short time in Windsor before he entirely disappeared, and never was known to be there afterwards, but was seen at some distance from Windsor, in several other places, and recognized by many, but always carefully evaded being spoken to. <div class='figcenter id001'> <ANTIMG src='images/endchap8-pg126.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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