after a short stay at the balize, we put to sea once more, for the purpose, as it was understood, of touching at havana, and then returning to new york. this was a cheerful voyage; the idea of a speedy return to america, spread a feeling of exquisite delight over the whole crew, and converted the performance of our duty into a pleasure. one effect was, to set those hands, who were gifted with the talent, so highly prized in a man of war, of “spinning yarns,” busily at work during every spare moment, when a group could be gathered to listen. foremost among these intellectual time-killers was richard dickinson, a messmate of mine, a good-natured englishman. he called himself the son of old dick, by which epithet he was usually called. dick’s powers were now in great demand, and he exercised them to our universal satisfaction, but with how great regard for truth i cannot determine. it is probable, however, that truth entered very little into dick’s productions. he was a sort of off-hand novelist; all he cared for was effect, and where truth failed him, fiction generously loaned her services. so bewitching were dick’s stories, that i used to long for the hour when we could lay in our hammocks and listen. my first salutation, when we lay for the last time in the port of havana, was, “come, dick, tell us a yarn.”

“what is the use? you will go to sleep,” he used to reply.

“no i won’t, dick; i can listen to your yarns all night,” was my usual answer.

dick would then begin some yarn, which, if not so interesting as the thousand-and-one stories in the arabian nights’ entertainments, was at least as true to nature, and, in respect to its humor, might be compared to some of the sayings of that illustrious personage, sancho panza, the renowned squire of the immortal don quixote; but, in spite of my promises, i usually gave notice of my condition after a short time, by performing a concord of nasal sounds, vulgarly called snoring, which would set dick to swearing, and often put an end to his performances for the night.

i need scarcely say, that these “yarns” were by no means favorable in their moral effects on the listener. they generally consisted in fictitious adventures on the sea and on the shore, plentifully interlarded in their recital with profane oaths and licentious allusions. when seamen become elevated, and are properly instructed, these filthy stories will be superseded by reading good and useful literature, with an abundance of which every ship should be supplied by the benevolence of the christian public.

on the passage to havana, dick and myself fell under the displeasure of the captain. we were stationed one night in the fore-top, where we were comfortably dozing away the time. the captain was on deck. the officer of the watch hailed the fore-top. we did not hear him until the call was repeated two or three times. for this we were ordered below, and told by the captain that we should be flogged the next day before the whole crew. with this consolatory information we returned to our station, without the least inclination to sleep again for that watch. with a sort of philosophic desperation, i laughed and said, “dick, which would you rather do—have your grog stopped awhile, or take a flogging?”

dick was very fond of his grog; so he replied, “oh, i had rather they would stop my wind than my grog, and would sooner be flogged by considerable than lose that.” i question, however, if he had been left to choose between grog and whip at the gangway, whether he would not have altered his tone in favor of his grog. still, his answer shows, how strongly sailors are attached to their beloved rum. i am happy to know that this regard is dying away, and that temperance is doing something among sailors. may it go on, until cold water is as popular in a man of war, as grog was twenty years since. we never heard, however, of our offence again. dick was quite a favorite with the officers, and, except a blow in the head, given me by the captain, i had never been punished. perhaps these were the reasons why we escaped the gangway.

at havana we got a large amount of spanish dollars aboard for some merchants in new york. these were smuggled from the shore. our men were sent off in the boats, with their pockets and bosoms well stuffed with the precious metal; and in this way we soon got it all safely lodged in our hold, except that the captain’s servant, falling desperately in love with them, furnished himself with all he could carry, and ran away from the ship.

after adding to our freight of dollars a fine supply of oranges, lemons, pine-apples, &c., we cheerfully weighed anchor and set sail for new york. we reached that port after a short and prosperous voyage; meeting with no incident, except that the cold weather caused us a little suffering, and enabled the purser to add a few dollars to the profits of the voyage, by supplying us with a lot of red flannel shirts.

when i was on board the siren, i was contented. the officers were kind, the crew were peaceful and well-behaved; but in the boxer, some of the officers were severe, and the crew corrupt, and i did not enjoy myself at all. some said that in time of war the men were better treated than in time of peace; but though this may be true to a limited extent, yet i think the difference in these two brigs was owing more to the character of their respective officers than anything else. be this as it may, my experience in the boxer had completely sickened me of man of war life, and i determined, if possible, to get free of it at once and forever.

my station, as one of the crew of the jolly-boat, gave me frequent opportunities to accomplish my purpose. so, one day, at the solicitation of a shipmate, i resolved to make the attempt. cruel treatment was my excuse; yet i have sometimes been ashamed of my course in this instance; and would heartily advise all boys in the naval service to stay their time out. we were successful in escaping; and as we had but little money, i therefore proceeded directly from the shore to a pawn shop, and there disposed of our pea-jackets, which were new, and for which the purser had charged us ten dollars apiece. we obtained the pitiful sum of six dollars for the two. with this, we started in a hack, which was to carry us outside of the city. we then travelled hard all day, resting at night in a barn, where we suffered extremely from the cold. the next day we pursued our way towards new haven. the day after, we were still on the road. this was the sabbath, and we felt strangely at seeing the good people of the village, through which we passed, going to meeting. the foot-stoves, that the grave matrons bore in their hands, were things i had never seen before; so, to the great merriment of my companion, i observed that they were excellent contrivances to carry their books in to meeting! we reached new haven on monday evening, where we put up at a sailors’ boarding-house for the night. here my shipmate left me, and i proceeded alone to hartford, begging my support by the way, for my money was by this time all exhausted.

at hartford i tried to ship on board some merchant vessel. not succeeding, i strove to find some one to take me as an apprentice to instruct me in the art of bootmaking, but with no better success. these repulses discouraged me. it was christmas day, and the associations connected with the day—the merry-makings of my early boyhood—were anything but pleasant to me in my distress. the bell was tolling for the funeral of priest strong, and it seemed as if the melancholy of the mourners fully accorded with my feelings, and was preferable in my mind to the spirit of rejoicing that prevailed among those who were keeping merry christmas in merry mood. perhaps, if they had invited me to partake of their cheer, i should have changed my opinion. as it was, with only five cents in my pocket, i wandered lonely and sad through the city. with a feeling of despair i stepped into a cellar for something to drink. they charged me five cents, and left me at once friendless and penniless. at the bridge, the toll-keeper demanded a cent. i looked at him fiercely, and told him i had nothing. he let me pass over toll free. towards night, feeling tired and hungry, i endeavored to hire myself. but who would employ an utter stranger? i went to a number of houses, imploring a lodging for the night. with freezing coldness, i experienced repulse after repulse, until my heart chilled with horror, with the fear of spending that long, cold night out of doors. at last i called on a kind-hearted presbyterian, who gave me a supper, lodging and breakfast. their morning and evening devotions were peculiarly interesting to me; for, excepting while a prisoner at the cape of good hope, i had never listened to an extemporaneous prayer.

the next morning i left this truly hospitable family, and pursued my inquiries for employment. some asked if i could chop wood; others, if i knew anything about farming; and when i answered “no,” they shook their heads, and i trudged on. sometimes i offered to work for my board, but, being a sailor, and having no recommendations, people were afraid to take me into their families. still i pushed on. a man overtook me in the town of coventry, and began a very interesting and faithful discourse about religion. i listened respectively; he took me home with him, where, although he was a deacon, he gave me some cider-brandy: but these were not the days of temperance. after this he sent me to pomeroy’s tavern, where he thought they would hire me. this application failing, he advised me to apply at the glass works which were a little distance from that place. with this advice, i took leave of deacon cook, and proceeded towards the glass-houses.

before reaching them, however, night came. a family, who occupied a red house, received me, whose hospitality i returned by singing a number of sea songs. early the next morning, i tried to get work at the glass-house, but though i was willing to stay for my board, they would not take me. mr. turner, the agent, very kindly gave me a breakfast, and then i left him, determined to get to boston if possible, and go to sea once more.

my situation was really a trying one: my only clothing was a blue jacket and trousers; shoes more than half worn out, and a little tarpaulin hat stuck on the back of my head, in genuine sailor fashion. mittens and money were alike far off from my fingers, and friends were as scarce as money. people, too, seemed afraid of a sailor; and this, in addition to all my other troubles, rendered me an object of suspicion. at such times, i assure my young reader, that the picture of a kind mother and a good home, are but too faithfully presented to the mind, filling it with a thousand vain and useless regrets. no young man need desire to be in the outcast prodigal condition in which i stood, in the depth of that cold winter.

when i reached the town of mansfield, i called at the house of a mr. nathaniel dunham; the kind manners and friendly language of whose lady i shall never forget. she told me that if i was honest, providence would shortly open some way by which i could live. her words fell on my ear like a prophecy, and i left the house, confident of some favorable turn in my affairs before long. at mansfield four corners, i inquired of dr. waldo, who, with several others, sat under a piazza, and afterwards of a mr. edmund freeman, for employ. they gave me no encouragement. persevering, i at last met with a mr. peter cross, who, seeing my sailor garb, asked what ships i had sailed in. hearing me mention the macedonian, he said, “there is a man here whose name is william hutchinson. he was taken in her. do you know him?”

“yes,” said i, after a moment’s recollection; “he was our armorer’s mate.”

of course, i lost no time in seeking for my old shipmate. after crossing various lots, and getting vexed and perplexed for want of proper direction, i reached his comfortable homestead. he did not recognise me at first, on account of the great alteration a few years had made in my size and appearance; but, when he did recall me to his recollection, with the generous frankness of a sailor, he offered me all the hospitality and assistance in his power. a good supper was speedily spread; and then, seated before his ample fireplace, sparkling and crackling with a cheerful blaze, we recounted our adventures. he had wandered into connecticut, and married a very respectable woman. they now owned a house and some land, and were in tolerably comfortable and thriving circumstances. with such discourse, we talked away the better part of the night, when the old tar showed me my chamber, archly observing that “my bed would not rock much.”

the next morning, he said i should not leave him until i was provided for in some way or other. through his influence, a mr. james, his brother-in-law, employed me to work in his cloth-dressing establishment. as i was ignorant of the business, and was not really needed, my board was to be my only compensation.

my new situation soon grew delightful to me, and i felt happier than i had ever done since i left bladen. my time passed very pleasantly, especially my evenings, when the neighbors came in to hear me spin sea yarns and forecastle songs. some of the young men of the “baser sort” judged me to be a fit instrument to act samson for their enjoyment, in the house of god. so they invited me to attend the meetings of the methodist episcopal church in that place. but they greatly misjudged the character of seamen; who, as before remarked, usually pay respect to the ordinances and ministers of religion. i attended the meeting, but not to make sport. the result of this ill-designed invitation on myself will appear hereafter.

the winter months fled, and the spring found me unfurnished with means co-extensive with my wants. determined to remain ashore, if possible, i hired myself to a farmer for my board. in the evenings i braided straw hats, and thus obtained a scanty supply of clothing. a little incident, illustrative of the thoughtless playfulness of sailor character, may not be displeasing to my young readers.

whoever has seen a perfect novice undertake to guide an ox-team, may form some idea of the ludicrous adventures through which i passed during my agricultural novitiate with these horned animals. perseverance, however, gave me some little control over our team, when, as fate would have it, my employer “swapped” them for another pair. when they came home, after some little hallooing and whipping, i succeeded in “yoking” them; then seizing the goad-stick, with as much dignity as ever neptune wielded his trident, i mounted the tongue, (which i called the bowsprit,) and with the ladders rigged up at both ends i gave the word of command to my team. they, however, showed signs of mutiny, and, taking to their heels, bore me off in triumph. this was sport indeed; there i stood, my head and shoulders passed between the front rigging, laughing as if my sides would burst, while rakes, forks and boards were playing leap-frog, at the tail of my cart, and my master’s boy was half frightened out of his wits. at length the angry voice of my master roused me from my sportive mood; he did not relish the rough usage his farming tools were receiving, and coming up with my horned steeds, he speedily stopped their speed and my sport. i need only add that his rebukes made me more careful afterwards.

when the haying season commenced, i left my first employer, and obtained the sum of eight dollars per month, and board; the wages, however, in accordance with the true yankee method of making money out of everything, were to be payable at the village store. this change led me into a situation which proved another link in the chain, which ended in my conversion to god. the son of my employer died; he was about fourteen years of age; in company with a pious member of the methodist church, i sat up one night with the corpse. with the faithfulness of a true christian, he improved the occasion by seriously conversing with me on the great concerns of immortality. his discourse, together with the funeral services, had a very softening and gracious influence on my feelings, though the only present, practical effect was a more punctual attendance on the services of the sanctuary.

towards winter, i went to live with mr. joseph conant, to learn the business of filing augers and steelyards. here my acquaintance was considerably enlarged, as several young men were attached to the establishment. among them was one who made a profession of religion. as is usual among the young, we were devoted triflers; and he, to my astonishment, was as jocose and merry as the rest. ignorant as i was of religion, his conduct appeared strangely inconsistent; i wondered he did not converse with me about my soul. one day i took him aside and faithfully expressed my views of his conduct. he acknowledged his guilt. afterwards we attended meetings in company, and he was faithful in speaking with me about the things that belonged to my salvation. he urged upon me the importance of giving myself up to god at once, and affectionately invited me to attend class-meeting. my mind was seriously inclined, but i could not yet venture upon so close an intercourse with the people of god.

one sabbath evening, my friend, ela dunham, who had dealt so faithfully with me, when we watched together over the corpse of orson kidder, asked me, “when do you intend to set out and seek religion?”

i replied, somewhat evasively, “any time.”

“well,” said he, “are you willing we should pray for you, and will you go forward for prayers to-night?”

to this i replied, that i would think of it. the meeting proved to be intensely interesting. my desire to express the inward workings of my mind, grew strong. of the forms and practices of christians in revivals, i was altogether ignorant, having never witnessed a conversion in my life; still, it seemed to me highly proper to declare my feelings in the presence of christians, that they might give such instructions as were necessary to lead me into the right way. with these views, i determined to rise and speak, though the evil one whispered, “not yet! not yet!” in my ears. just as i stood up, some one, not seeing me, began to sing; this, i took to be a suitable excuse for further delay, and sat down, heartily wishing that no one had seen me. fortunately, my friend dunham had witnessed my movement. he requested them to stop singing, because a young man wished to speak. thus encouraged, i told them i was then nineteen years of age, and it seemed to me too much of life to spend in sin; that eternity was a solemn idea, and i desired them to tell me how to prepare to enter upon it with joy. they proposed to pray with me. we then all kneeled down together. most fervently did they pray for the divine blessing to rest on the stranger youth, bowed in penitence before them, and most sincerely did i join my prayers with theirs before the throne of god. after prayer, they sung the following familiar lines, which i insert both for their intrinsic excellence, and for the pleasantness of the associations connected with them in my own mind.

“alas, and did my saviour bleed!

and did my sovereign die!

would he devote that sacred head,

for such a worm as i?

o the lamb! the loving lamb!

the lamb on calvary,

the lamb that was slain,

yet lives again,

to bleed and die for me.”

although these words were very sweetly applied to my mind, i did not feel any evidence of the favor of god that night. the next day, with a strong purpose to live for eternity, i entered on my daily tasks. religion was the theme of my thoughts and discourse; during the day, a sweet calm came over me; peace and joy filled my soul. it was the pardoning love of god applied to my guilty spirit.

ah! thought i, this must be religion; but desiring to be right, i went to my employer and communicated my feelings to him. his reply rather damped my joy. he was a moralist; morality, he said, was all-sufficient to secure a man’s well being both in this life and in that to come. this, however, did not satisfy my mind. to me it seemed certain that genuine repentance, and a change of heart, were all-essential to my happiness; and these, if not already mine, i determined to possess.

the remarks and experience of the methodists, at their prayer meetings, were greatly blessed to my comfort. gradually the light broke; the day-star shone. peace, like a river, filled my breast; joy, as from an unfailing fountain, bubbled up within me; love animated my affections; by day and by night i sang the praises of god, and the society of christ’s dear people seemed precious indeed to my soul. i thought this sweet frame would last forever. i determined it should, so far as my efforts were necessary for its continuance. alas! i knew not my own heart: a dreary wilderness state was before me, and i, like many an unwary soul before me, heedlessly stumbled into its gloomy shadows.

by a sudden change in the condition of my employer, i was led to seek employment in ashford. here, in the shop of mr. giles stebbins, i was surrounded by many light-minded, trifling young men. falling into the same snare for which i had reproved a professor before i was converted, my peace and calm were lost, every evidence darkened, and the wretchedness of a backslider in heart filled my soul. this apostacy lasted several months, when, through the love and long-suffering of a gracious god, i was once more restored to a state of salvation. since that time, though i have not gained all that is desirable, and that is offered in an abundant gospel, yet i have been trying to stem the torrent of iniquity, which runs through the earth, and striving to make my way to the port of glory.

the next fall i walked eighteen miles to a camp-meeting in thompson, conn., the first i had ever attended. though the scene was novel, i soon took a deep interest in the services; especially when informed that a sailor was going to preach one evening. this sailor was no other than the well-known rev. e. t. taylor. his text was in philippians iv. 19: “but my god shall supply all your needs;” which he handled in his usual happy and eccentric, powerful manner. i had never before seen a religious sailor; to hear one preach, therefore, in such forcible and effective style, was to me a source of unutterable delight. nor were the listening masses before the stand, who hung with intense eagerness on his lips, less pleased than myself. they broke out into loud expressions of praise to god for his wonderful mercies. “this,” said the speaker, “is but a drop from a bucket! what will it be when we drink from the mighty ocean itself?”

at this meeting i saw sinners yielding to christ with tears of sacred penitence, for the first time in my life. never in all my life had a spectacle more sublimely beautiful met my eye. i do not believe the world affords a more grateful sight than that of a sinner weeping and repenting before his creator.

the parting scene of that meeting left an indelible impression on my memory. even now i see that affectionate company marching in regular and joyful procession before the stand, each shaking hands, as he passed, with the preachers. still i feel the tears chasing each other down my cheeks, as i grasped the hand of the sailor preacher so firmly, that it seemed i should never let it go; while he, seeing my emotion, observed, “never mind, brother; we are on board of zion’s ship now.” i had stood tearless alike amidst the wailings of the tempest and the roar of the battle, but here, among a few christians at a camp-meeting, my heart was soft as a woman’s, and my tears flowed like rain. does the reader inquire what made the difference? i answer, it was the love of god.

when i returned home, one of my first acts was to unite myself with the methodist episcopal church: an act which has led to the formation of many pleasant friendships, and which has proved the source of much religious enjoyment to my soul.

my mind often reverts, with a mixture of joy and sorrow, to the fate of the three hundred men and boys who sailed with me in the macedonian, when i left england for the first time. of these, alas! how many perished in battle! the rest were scattered over the four quarters of the globe. beside myself, i never heard of but one of them who embraced religion. this was john wiskey, one of our quartermasters. he settled in new london, and when he met in class, for the first time, he said he blessed god he had got out of that floating hell, the macedonian. he afterwards removed to catskill, on the north river, where he maintained a good christian reputation.

my shipmate, who received me so hospitably in mansfield, became unfortunate, lost his property, and died, but not before i had the satisfaction of offering a prayer at his bedside.

the little fellow who escaped from the macedonian with me met with a melancholy fate. this i learned one day from the following paragraph in a newspaper: “drowned, out of a pilot boat, off charleston bar, mr. james day, one of the crew of his britannic majesty’s late frigate macedonian.” thus have i been signally favored—a brand plucked from the fire. for this special favor i hope to render my heavenly father the eternal tribute of a grateful heart.