AMONG STRANGERS.

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streets, going home to their families and friends, no one cared for these two poor boys who had no home to go to. With only a few coppers left in their pockets an inn was out of the question for them. They sat down on that familiar resting-place, the steps of a church, and eat some of the scanty provisions in their bundles; then they had to look for cheap lodgings. Prowling about the wharves, they saw a vessel which appeared to have no one on board. The cabin-doors were open; the boys stole in, took possession of two vacant berths, and slept soundly till morning, when they left without meeting anyone to call them to account. Such was their first taste of a sailor's life.

After strolling about the town in rather low spirits, and breakfasting on what was left of their provisions, they thought best to separate in search of employment, and did so, boy-like, without making any appointment for another meeting Kelley went his way, and Ebenezer never saw him again, nor could hear anything of him except that he had got a place on board a ship. He himself, wandering about, found his way into the market-house, and saw there an old gentleman attired after the fashion of the day, in three-cornered hat, club wig, long broadskirted coat, breeches and shoes fastened with large buckles, whose face seemed familiar to him. On inquiry he learned that this was, as he supposed, a certain Obadiah Curtis, who had recently removed from Boston to Providence. An aunt of Ebenezer's had lived in service with him at Boston, and to the boy's great satisfaction, she turned out to have accompanied her employer's family in their change of abode. So he was not friendless here after all.

This aunt was naturally surprised to see her nephew so far from home. He, on his part, tried to conceal the truth, but after a good many questions, she got at something like the real state of the case, and did all she could to persuade him to return. Finding, however, that he was bent on going to sea, the good woman made the best of it by providing him with plenty to eat, as well as with some clothes of which he stood in need, till at the end of a few days he found a place as cabinboy on board a ship bound for the island of St. Domingo. One would suppose that the aunt might have written to his family to let them know what had become of him. But letters were serious matters in these days, and she was probably more at home with pots and pans than with pen and ink; so the father

and mother at Roxbury remained for some months without news of their runaway boy.

Tolerably well equipped, thanks to the good aunt, Ebenezer started on his first voyage, passed through the usual experience of sea-sickness, learned that a skipper can be as rough a master as a farmer, and, in short, had all the romance rubbed off a boy's ideas of life on the ocean wave. The passage out and home was a smooth enough one, and he had no taste of adventure till the ship was once more off the coast of Connecticut. During her absence, the Revolutionary war having fairly begun, every British man-of-war had become an enemy to American commerce. The captain tried to run into Providence through the night, trusting to a favourable wind for eluding the cruisers which were known to be on the look-out; but the wind fell, and at daybreak he found himself close to three British ships. Higher up the bay some American vessels, of much inferior force, were seen making signals for Ebenezer's ship to press all sail towards them. Unfortunately her people did not understand these signals, and were doubtful whether they came from friend or foe. They tacked one way and another, trying to beat up the bay; but as two cruisers were to the windward of them, while a small tender blocked the way ahead, they saw no chance of escape unless by running their ship on shore.

This having been done, the crew jumped overboard and swam to land under the fire of the tender. The captain advised Ebenezer to stay where he was and be taken prisoner, supposing that no great harm could happen to a boy like him; but he, after some hesitation, chose rather the risk of being drowned. With nothing on but his shirt and trousers, he plunged into the sea, and, spurred by the whistling and splashing of bullets about his head, came to shore without injury, though nearly exhausted by fear and fatigue. So much was he in dread of pursuit, that finding his wet clothes an encumbrance to him in passing through a corn-field, he hastily stripped them off, and ran on naked till he managed to catch up his shipmates, who were not a little amused by his appearance in such a plight.

"Hallo! my boy," exclaimed one of them; "you cut a pretty figure! Not from the garden of Eden, I can swear for it, for you have not even an apron of fig-leaves to cover you

with. You were not born to be drowned, I see, though you may live to be hanged."

But after a few more such jests at his expense, the mate goodnaturedly took off one of two shirts with which he was equipped for the nonce, and let Ebenezer rig himself out in this ample garment, that covered him from head to feet; and when they ventured to halt at a cottage, the mistress, taking pity on his grotesque condition, gave him a decent suit of clothes. But, as he says, his first voyage could not be considered very successful, since he came back from it stark naked.

His aunt at Providence gave him a long lecture, and would fain have him think of this misfortune as a judgment on him for running away from home. She tried to persuade him to return to his father, offering her services as peace-maker. But the boy would not go back till he had some better result to show for his wilfulness; and the aunt again supplying generous help, he was in a few days equipped for a second voyage, which he made to the same port, and from which he returned, this time, all safe, with more money than he had ever had before in his pocket.

Now he was willing enough to go home, and set out on foot for Roxbury, where he found the camp of the American army engaged in besieging Boston. His parents had removed to Dorchester, three miles off. For six months they had heard no news of him, and, though they guessed he must have gone to sea, this was in his mother's eyes almost as bad as being lost outright. So when he made his appearance, his ghost could hardly have caused the good woman greater agitation. His father took it more coolly, yet he was clearly not sorry to see the scapegrace back again. The mother hastened to give him his breakfast; the father cleared his throat for a grave rebuke; but, in the end, it was understood that bygones were to be bygones, and the boy might stay at home and choose a trade for himself.

The tailor could now better afford to keep his large family, since he found plenty of employment in working for the soldiers in the camp. There, too, Ebenezer found plenty of amusement and interest during the ensuing winter; in the way of work, he went to school for a spell, and made himself generally useful about the house. When the British had evacuated Boston, communication being restored with the country, he

paid a visit to the town, where he got employment on probation with Mr. John Bosson, barber, and manufacturer of wigs. This business proving likely to suit him, he was regularly apprenticed to it, a much more elaborate and important occupation then, as he reminds us, than it is now, when people have the common sense to wear their own hair as nature has given it them. His chief work at first was in the preparation of hair for wigs, while now and then he would be allowed to try his 'prentice-hand at scraping the face of some unlucky chancecustomer, "who might reasonably be expected never to call again for a repetition of the operation." But, remaining in Mr. Bosson's service till the age of sixteen, he did not fail to make due progress in the mysteries of his art.

II.

THREE years our hero now passed quietly, curling and shaving at Boston, while the war between Britain and her colonies was stoutly waged with varying fortunes. Professional soldiering being a thing almost unknown in the States, there was no little difficulty in keeping the ranks of Washington's army full. In 1779, the militia of Massachusetts were called on for a quota of men to march to New York as a reinforcement to the American army in that neighbourhood. Ebenezer's master was one of the men drawn for this service; but such a demand upon his patriotism proved most unwelcome to the worthy

citizen.

"One day, while my fellow apprentice and myself were at work, Mr. Bosson entered the shop labouring under great agitation of mind. It was evident that something had happened to discompose his temper, which was naturally somewhat irritable. He walked rapidly about, occasionally stopping, and honing several razors that he had put in perfect order previous to his going out, and attempting to sharpen a pair of shears that at the time bore the keenest edge; he furnished us with much food for conjecture as to the cause of his strange conduct. At length, from various ejaculations, and now and then a half-smothered curse upon his ill-luck, we gathered the fact, that he was enrolled among the soldiers who were soon to take up the line of march for New York. This was an un