for interfering, as he deemed it; with
his regular practice, and the moment he saw me he put an officer on my
trail. I thought it was safe here to take the cars, for I was footsore
and weary, nor did I get away from Keene as fast and as far as I wanted
to. I should have succeeded but for that doctor.

When the officer brought me before a justice, the doctor was a willing
witness to declare that I was a fugitive from justice, and he stated the
circumstances of my escape. So I was sent back to Keene under charge of
the very officer who arrested me at the depot.

I would not give this officer's name if I could remember it, but he was
a fine fellow, and was exceedingly impressible. For instance, on our
arrival at Keene, he allowed me to go to the hotel and pack my trunk to
be forwarded to Meredith Bridge by express. He then handed me over to
the authorities, and I was immediately taken before the magistrate from
whom I had previously escaped, the Concord officer accompanying the
Keene officer who had charge of me.

The examination was short; I was bound over in the sum of one thousand
dollars to take my trial for bigamy. On my way to jail I persuaded the
Concord officer--with a hundred dollar bill which I slipped into his
hand--to induce the other officer to go with me to the hotel under
pretense of looking after my things, and getting what would be necessary
for my comfort in jail. My Concord friend kept the other officer down
stairs--in the bar-room, I presume--while I went to my room. I put a
single shirt in my pocket; the distance from my window to the ground
was not more than twelve or fifteen feet, and I let myself down from the
window sill and then dropped.

I was out of the yard, into the street, and out of town in less than no
time. It was already evening, and everything favored my escape. I had
no idea of spending months in jail at Keene, and months more, perhaps
years, in the New Hampshire State Prison. All my past bitter experiences
of wretched prison life urged me to flight.

And fly I did. No stopping at the friendly farmer's, my former refuge,
this time; that would be too great a risk. No showing of myself in any
town or village where the telegraph might have conveyed a description
of my person. I traveled night and day on foot, and more at night than
during the day, taking by-roads, lying by in the woods, sleeping in
barns, and getting my meals in out-of-the-way farm houses.

I had plenty of money; bu