Richmond Palladium

From the 'Actor: a Theatrical Tale.

Booth, the Horse Thief, and the Jailor,

Booth had been playing at Mobile. At the close of his engagement he accepted an offer from Mr. Eberly, to play at a town a few miles from Louisville, and as pedestrianism was one of his peculiarities, he started on foot with intention of walking the whole distance.

While on his journey he encountered an officer with a runaway slave on horseback, whom he was conducting to the town where Booth was going to play.

The officer, with his slave, had dismounted at an inn to take breakfast, and left the horse standing at the door, which Booth, after concluding that riding was much easier than, and preferable to, walking, mounted and rode away. The horse, of course, was missed, and Booth was pursued, overtaken and made prisoner. On being questioned relative to his name, he answered that it was 'Lovett.'

Lovett was a notorious horse-thief, who had long eluded the officers of justice, and for whose apprehension a reward of five hundred dollars was offered. Previous to his execution (for he has since been arrested and hung), he bequeathed his head to Booth, and it was conveyed to the representative of 'Richard' by Mr. Rice the comedian, and the skull still adorns the mantle of one of Mr. Booth's apartments, as a curiosity.

Booth, on answering "Lovett," was immediately rushed upon by several persons, anxious to secure him first, for the purpose of obtaining the reward.—He was conducted back to Louisville, where he still gave his name as 'Lovett,' and was fully committed to jail, which was under the charge of a burly individual by the name of Major Parsons (uncle to the Parson Parsons, formerly an actor, not remarkable for his cuteness, and somewhat decrepit from age).

Booth was lodged in the second story, with several individuals of considerably larger dimensions than himself, who assisted him in his mischievous pranks.

It was the custom of Parsons to count his prisoners every morning, before going to market, with great precision, and while going through this operation, he always, during the confinement of Booth, gave the tragedian an indescribable stare of contempt, regarding him as his worst, but most important prisoner, and looking carefully at his dress in order to identify him in case of accident.

One of the bars of the prison window had become detached, so that it could be removed without any difficulty, allowing any one of moderate dimensions easily to get through the aperture.

During the absence of Parsons, who daily went to market, Booth managed to get through the window, and by means of blankets tied together, was lowered to the ground. He at once made his way to the market, where he met Parsons, who immediately knew him.

'Halloa,' said Parsons, 'how the devil came you here?'

'I never saw you before,' said the tragedian, looking him steadfastly in the face.

'Stay here a moment then,' returned Parsons, and away he went, as fast as he could conveniently walk to the prison. In the meantime Booth had repaired to the jail, and was hoisted to his place of confinement.

Parsons entered to see if Lovett was there—and the first individual he encountered was Booth. His hair almost stood erect with wonder and astonishment.

'Why, fellow,' said Parsons, 'did I not leave you in the market ten minutes since?'

'I never saw you before,' said the tragedian, with an unfaltering gaze, and in his deep and peculiar tone of voice.

Parsons was incredulous, as he hastened back to the market, and there stood Junius Brutus, alas 'Lovett,' who had left the jail before and arrived first.

'How are you, Parsons?'

said Booth. 'How is your nephew, the parson?'

Parsons's cheek became pale. He thought there was some witchcraft or necromancy in the matter. 'Stay a moment here,' said he, 'I'll come back.' He wended his way home, almost delirious with excitement and incredulity, where he found Booth, which almost made him frantic.—

The day passed, and nearly every hour Parsons entered the apartment to see that Lovett was secured.

The next morning, Parsons counted his prisoners as usual, eyeing Booth with the most intense scrutiny. The tragedian had a large patch upon his boot, which Parsons noted particularly. Finding his prisoners all safe, he went to market as usual, meditating upon the extraordinary occurrences of the previous day, and there, to his utter amazement and horror, stood Lovett, the identical horse thief, whom he had just left.

'How did you get out?' asked Parsons.

'Out of where?' echoed Booth.

'Why, out of jail, where I left you, to be sure.'

'Fool,' said Booth, 'do you wish to insult me? I never saw you before.'

'Why, rascal,' says Parsons, 'I know you by the patch upon your boot.'

Parsons's wits began to turn—he could hardly believe his senses. He walked, he ran, until out of breath, to the jail, and there was Lovett, with the patch upon his boot, as before.

Parsons was taken ill, and continued so for several days, and Booth resorted to another stratagem to recover him.—He feigned illness and death, and having made an arrangement with a friend, at his lodgings, he was taken from the jail in a coffin bored with holes, which allowed him breath, and conveyed from the jail—which satisfied Parsons, that he was effectually rid of 'Lovett.'

A short time afterwards, the tragedian met Parsons, and inquired why he had circulated a report that he (Booth) was Lovett. Parsons explained the resemblance, and apologized to him for having acted so rudely in the market.