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hadnever entered into his mind.

  Several of our shipmates went ashore along with us; and the first thingwe all thought of was, what the reader will readily imagine, to find aplace where strong drink was sold. This is usually a sailor's firstthought on going ashore after a voyage.

  After having taken two or three glasses with our shipmates, Stormy gaveme a wink, and sidled towards the door. I followed him; and slippingunperceived into the street, we turned a corner, and kept on throughseveral streets--until we had arrived at another part of the city. Thelittle that Stormy had drunk had by this time only sharpened hisappetite for more.

  "Here I am," said he, "with clear twelve shillings in my pocket. What aspell of fun I could have, if 'twas not for you! Seven weeks without aspree, and now can't have it because I've you to take care of. Thought'twould be so. Rowley, my boy! see what I'm suffering for you. You areteaching me manners, whether I'm willing to larn 'em or not."

  I allowed the sailor to go on uninterrupted with his storm ofcomplaints, although there was a reflection in my mind, that if I waskeeping him from getting drunk, the obligation was not all on my side.

  Stormy had but twelve shillings, and I half-a-crown, which the Captainhad given to me before coming ashore.

  It was necessary that something should be done, before this money shouldbe all spent.

  Under ordinary circumstances, the sailor need not have felt anyapprehension, about being out of money. He could easily get employmentin another vessel; but as matters stood, Stormy was afraid of beingcaught, should he attempt to join another ship--before that from whichhe had deserted had taken her departure from the port. If caught,Stormy knew he would be punished; and this rendered him a trifleserious.

  The next day we passed in wandering about the city--taking care to avoidall places where we would be likely to meet with any of the officers, ormen of the ship "Hope."

  Stormy's thoughts were all day in a fearful storm, commingled withanxiety as to what we should do to make a living.

  "On your account, Rowley," said he, "I'm not misinclined for a spell onshore, if I could find anything to do, but that's the trouble. There'snot much work ashore, that be proper for an honest man to bear a handin. What little of such work there is here, is done by darkies, whilewhite men do all the cheating and scheming. Howsomever, lad, we musttry to get at something."

  The next day Stormy did try; and obtained work at rigging a new ship,that had just been launched. The job would last for a month. The wageswere good; and the storm in Stormy's mind had now subsided into anagreeable calm.

  We sought a cheap lodging-house, not far from where his work was to beperformed; and that evening the sailor indulged in a pipe and a glass,from which he had prudently refrained during all the day.

  I was unwilling that the burden of supporting me should be borne by mygenerous protector; and being anxious to do something for myself, Iasked him what I should go about.

  "I've just been thinking of that," said he, "and I believe I've hit uponan idea. Suppose you sell newspapers? I see many lads about your agein that business here; and they must make something at it. It's nothard work, besides it appears to be very respectable. It is a lit'rarybusiness, as no boy should be 'shamed of."

  I approved of the plan, and joyfully agreed to give it a trial.

  It was arranged that the next morning I should go to the office of adaily paper--buy a bundle of copies; and try to dispose of them at aprofit.

  Early the next morning, Stormy started off to his work on the ship, andI to a newspaper office.

  I reached the place too early to get out the papers; but found severalboys waiting like myself. I joined their company, listened to them, andwas much interested in their conversation, without very clearlycomprehending what they were talking about.

  I could distinctly hear every word they said; but the meaning of thewords I knew not, for the most of them were slang phrases--such as I hadnever heard before.

  I could see that they were very fast boys--much faster than I was--although the "Rolling Stone" had not been for several years rollingthrough the streets of Dublin, without learning some city sharpness.

  I entered into conversation with two of the boys, in order to find outsomething of the business of news-vending; and could see from theirmanner that they regarded me, as they would have said, "not all thar."

  They pretended to give me such information as I required; but Iafterwards learnt that they had not told me one word of truth.

  When the papers were published, I went in with the others, put down ahalf dollar, and received in exchange the correct number of copies. Ihurried out, walked some distance from the office, and commencedoffering my wares for sale.

  On turning down a wide street, I met three gentlemen, each of whom tooka copy out of my hands and gave me a picayune in return.

  I was doing business for myself--buying and selling; and in my soularose a feeling of independence and pride that has never been sothoroughly awakened since.

  I passed along the street, till I came to a large hotel, where I saw twoother gentlemen under the verandah.

  I went up to them, offered my goods as before, and each took anewspaper. As one of them offered me payment for his copy, I had hardlythe strength to hand him the paper and take his money. I nearly droppedto the pavement. The man was Captain Brannon, of the ship "Hope," towhom I had been apprenticed!

  I moved away from him as fast as my trembling limbs would carry me; andthe glance which I could not help throwing over my shoulder, told methat I had not been recognised.

  This was the man, who had promised to treat me as he would his own son;and yet during a long voyage had taken so little notice of me, that Icould thus transact business with him, without being recognised!

  By twelve o'clock my work for the day was finished; and I returned tothe lodging-house with a dollar in picayune pieces--having made ahundred per cent on my capital.

  I was at that hour the happiest boy in New Orleans.

  I was happy, yet full of impatience, as I waited through the longafternoon for the return of Stormy Jack.

  There was pride and pleasure in the anticipation of his approval of myexertions, when I should show him the money I had made. It was thefirst money I had ever earned--my only transactions with the circulatingmedium before that time, having been to spend it, as fast as it could beobtained from a fond father.

  I entered into an elaborate calculation by an arithmetical rule I hadlearned under the name of "reduction," and found that I had made in oneday, by my own exertions, over two shillings of English money.

  I had pride--pride in my ability to make money at all, and pride in myscholastic acquirements, which enabled one so young to tell how much hadbeen gained, for I was not able to comprehend fully the amount, until Ihad brought it into shillings and pence.

  With burning impatience I waited for the return of Stormy. Beingfatigued, however, I fell asleep, and dreamt of having made a fortune,and of having had a fight with Mr Leary, in which that gentleman--tomake use of Stormy's favourite expression--had been "taught somemanners."

  When I awoke, I looked eagerly at a clock. It was past seven in theevening, and Stormy Jack had not returned!

  He had been due more than an hour. The happiness I had been all dayindulging in, suddenly forsook me; and a sickening sensation ofloneliness came over my soul.

  I sat up waiting and watching for him until a very late hour--in factuntil I was driven to bed by the landlady; but Stormy did not return.

  Volume One, Chapter V.

  GOD HELP US!

  No week of my life ever seemed so long, as that night spent in waitingfor the return of Stormy Jack. It was not until the sun beams weregushing through my window in the morning, that I was able to fallasleep.

  By nine o'clock I was up, and out upon the streets in search of mycompanion and protector. My search was continued all day withoutsuccess.

  I did not know the name of the ship on which he had gone to work; andthe
refore I had no clue to his whereabouts. In fact I had such a slightclue to guide me, that my search was but little less than the pursuit offolly.

  I did not like to believe that Stormy had wilfully deserted me.

  In my lone and friendless condition, with the memory of the way in whichI had left my mother, to have thought so, would have made me desirous ofdying. I had rather think that some serious accident had happened him,than that he had abandoned me to my fate, to avoid any further trouble Imight give him.

  Another idea occurred to me. He might have been found by some of theofficers of the "Hope," and either taken aboard, or imprisoned fordeserting. This was so probable, that for awhile I was tempted to goback to the ship and resume my duties.

  Reflection told me, that if he had fallen into the hands of the captain,he would not leave me alone in a city like New Orleans. He would tellthe captain where I was staying, and have me sent for and broughtaboard.

  The only, or what seemed the best thing I could do, was to return to thelodging-house, and there await the event.

  After a long weary day spent in vain search for my lost companion, Icarried this idea into effect, and went back to the lodging-house. As Ianticipated, Stormy had not returned to it.

  The landlady was a woman of business; and fancied, or rather believed,that my responsible protector had deserted me, leaving her with a boy tokeep, and a bill unpaid.

  She asked me if I had any money. In reply, I produced all I had. Allbut one "picayune" of it was required, for the payment of the score wehad already run up.

  "Now, my lad," said she, "you had better try to find some employment,where you will earn a living. You are welcome to stay here to-night,and have your breakfast in the morning. You will then have all dayto-morrow to find another home."

  The next morning, after I had swallowed my breakfast, she came to me andbid me an affectionate "good bye." It was a broad hint that she neitherexpected, nor wished me to stay in her house any longer.

  I took the hint, walked out into the street, and found myself in acrowd, but alone, with the great new world before me.

  "What shall I do?" was the question set before a full committee of mymental faculties, assembled, or awakened, to deliberate on the emergencyof the moment.

  I could be a newsvendor no longer: for the want of capital to invest inthe business.

  I could return to the ship, and perhaps get flogged for having run away;but I was so disappointed in the treatment I had received at the handsof the captain, that nothing but extreme suffering could have induced meto seek protection from him.

  The restraint to which I had been subjected on board the ship, seemedpartly to have emanated from Mr Leary, and for that reason was to meall the more disagreeable.

  I wandered about the streets, reflecting on what I should do until bothmy brain and legs became weary.

  I sat down on some steps leading to the door of a restaurant. My youngheart was still strong, but beating wildly.

  Over the door of a grocer's shop in front of me, and on the oppositeside of the street, I read the name "John Sullivan." At sight of thisfamiliar name, a glimmering of hope entered into my despairing mind.

  Four years previous to that time, the grocer with whom my parents usedto deal had emigrated to America. His name was John Sullivan. Was itpossible that the shop and the name before me belonged to this man?

  I arose, and crossed the street. I entered the shop, and inquired of ayoung man behind the counter, if Mr Sullivan was at home.

  "He's up stairs," said the youth. "Do you wish to see him inparticular?"

  I answered in the affirmative; and Mr Sullivan was called down.

  The man I hoped to meet was, when I saw him last, a little man with redhair; but the individual who answered the summons of the shop boy, was aman about six feet in his stockings, with dark hair and a long blackbeard.

  I saw at a glance, that the grocer who had emigrated from Dublin and theman before me were not identical, but entirely different individuals.

  "Well, my lad, what do you want?" asked the tall proprietor of the shop,looking down on me with a glance of curious inquiry.

  "Nothing," I stammered out, perhaps more confused than I had ever beenbefore.

  "Then what have you had me called for?" he asked, in a tone that didlittle to aid me in overcoming my embarrassment.

  After much hesitation and stammering, I explained to him that fromseeing his name over the door, I had hoped to find a man of the samename, with whom I had been acquainted in Ireland, and who had emigratedto America.

  "Ah!" said he, smiling ironically. "My father's great-grandfather cameover to America about two hundred and fifty years ago. His name wasJohn Sullivan. Perhaps you mean him?"

  I had nothing to say in answer to this last interrogation, and wasturning to leave the shop.

  "Stop my lad!" cried the grocer. "I don't want to be at the trouble ofhaving come downstairs for nothing. Supposing I was the John Sullivanyou knew--what then?"

  "Then you would tell me what I should do," I answered, "for I haveneither home, friends, nor money."

  In reply to this, the tall shopkeeper commenced submitting me to a sharpexamination--putting his queries in a tone that seemed to infer theright to know all I had to communicate.

  After obtaining from me the particulars relative to my arrival in thecountry, he gave me his advice in exchange. It was, to return instanterto the ship from which I had deserted.

  I told him that this advice could not be favourably received, until Ihad been about three days without food.

  My rejoinder appeared to cause a change in his disposition towards me.

  "William!" said he, calling out to his shop-assistant, "can't you findsomething for this lad to do for a few days?"

  William "reckoned" that he could.

  Mr Sullivan then returned upstairs; and I, taking it for granted thatthe thing was settled, hung up my hat.

  The grocer had a family, living in rooms adjoining the shop. Itconsisted of his wife and two children--the eldest a girl about fouryears of age.

  I was allowed to eat at the same table with themselves; and soon becamewell acquainted with, and I believe well liked by, them all. The littlegirl was an eccentric being, even for a child; and seldom said a word toanyone. Whenever she did speak, she was sure to make use of the phrase,"God help us!"

  This expression she had learnt from an Irish servant wench, who was inthe habit of making frequent use of it; and it was so often echoed bythe little girl, in a parrot-like manner, that Mr Sullivan and hiswife--at the time I joined the family were striving to break her fromthe habit of using it.

  The servant girl, when forbidden by her mistress ever to use theexpression in the child's presence, would cry out: "God help us, Mem! Ican't help it."

  Whenever the words were spoken by little Sarah--this was the child'sname--Mrs Sullivan would say, "Sarah, don't you ever say that again.If you do, you shall be locked up in the cellar."

  "God help us!" little Sarah would exclaim, in real alarm at the threat.

  "There you go again. Take that, and that," Mrs Sullivan would cry,giving the child two or three slaps on the side of the head.

  "Oh mother! mother! God help us!" little Sarah would cry out,altogether unconscious of the crime she was committing.

  Every effort made, for inducing the child to refrain from the use ofthis expression, only caused its more frequent repetition; and often ina manner so ludicrous, as to conquer the anger of her parents, and turnit into laughter.

  When I had been about five weeks with Mr Sullivan, I was engaged onemorning in washing the shop windows, and accidentally broke a large andcostly pane of plate glass. A sudden shock came over my spirits--onemore painful than I had ever experienced. Mr Sullivan had been so kindto me, that to do him an injury, accidentally or otherwise, seemed thegreatest misfortune that could happen to me.

  He was upstairs at the time; and I had not the moral courage to facehim. Had I waited for hi
m to come down, and see what had been done, hemight have said something that would have pained me to hear; butcertainly nothing more serious would have happened, and all would havebeen well again.

  I must have a disposition constitutionally inclined to absconding. Torun away, as my mother had often told me, must be my _nature_. I wouldrather believe this than otherwise, since I do not wish to be chargedwith the voluntary indiscretion of deserting a good home. It was onlyan overwhelming sense of the kindness with which I had been treated, andthe injury I had inflicted on my benefactor, that caused me to dread anencounter with Mr Sullivan.

  Perhaps a boy with a smaller sense of gratitude and less sensitivenessof soul, would have acted differently; and yet would have acted right:for it is always better to meet a difficulty boldly, than to flee in acowardly manner from the responsibilities attending it.

  Little Sarah Sullivan happened to be in the shop at the time I broke thewindow. I heard her exclaim, "God help us!"

  I did not stay to hear any more: for in six seconds after, I had turnedthe nearest corner; and was once more homeless in the streets of NewOrleans.

  Volume One, Chapter VI.

  ONCE MORE UPON THE OCEAN!

  I did not dislike a sea life; and would not have been dissatisfied withany situation on a ship, providing it had not been procured for me byMr Leary.

  On running away from Mr Sullivan's shop, my inclination was to leaveNew Orleans in some ship; but, unfortunately, I knew not the propermanner of going to work to accomplish my desires.

  I walked along the levee, till I reached a ship, that was just beinghauled from the wharf--evidently for the purpose of standing down theriver and out to sea.

  I stepped aboard intending to apply for work; and after looking aroundfor a while, I observed a man who, to all appearance, was the captain.

  When asked to give me some situation in the ship, he appeared too busyto pay any attention to my request.

  I was on a vessel proceeding to sea; and, knowing my ability to makemyself useful, I determined not to go ashore without a hearing.

  I walked forward; and amidst the confusion of getting the ship underway--where there was so much to be done--I found work enough to do; andtook much care, while doing it, to keep out of the way of others--which,to a boy aboard of a ship, is a task of some difficulty.

  No one seemed to take any notice of me that afternoon or evening; andabout nine o'clock at night I laid down under the long boat, fellasleep, and slept till morning.

  I turned out at the earliest hour, and lent a hand at washing the decks;but still no one seemed to know, that I was not one of the ship'scompany!

  At eight o'clock the crew were mustered, and divided into watches. Myname was not called: and the captain observing the circumstance,requested me to walk aft.

  "Who are you?" asked he, as I drew near.

  Something whispered me not to undervalue myself, but to speak up withconfidence; and in answer to his demand, I told him that I was a_Rolling Stone_.

  "A Rolling Stone, are you?" said the captain. "Well, what have yourolled here for?"

  "Because I wanted to go somewhere," I answered.

  He then asked me if I had ever been at sea; and, on learning the name ofthe ship I had deserted, he said that she had sailed the week before, orhe would have sent me back to her.

  He concluded his examination, by giving the steward orders to look afterme--telling him that I could assist in the slop work to be done in thecabin.

  To this arrangement I decidedly objected, declaring that I was a_sailor_, and would not be made a _cuddy servant_!

  I have every reason to believe, that this declaration on my partelevated me several degrees in the captain's good opinion.

  He replied by expressing a hope, that I would not aspire to the commandof the ship; and if not, he would see what could be done for me.

  The vessel was bound for Liverpool with cotton; and was owned by thecaptain himself, whose name was Hyland.

  I was never better treated in my life, than on board that ship.

  I was not assigned to any particular occupation, or watch; but noadvantage was taken of this circumstance, on the captain's part, to makeme do too much, or by me to do too little.

  I was generally on deck all the day; and whenever I saw anything usefulthat I could do, it was done.

  In this way, both watches had the aid of my valuable services--which,however, were not always sufficiently appreciated to prevent a few sharpwords being applied to me. But a boy aboard of a ship soon learns totake no notice of such trifles.

  I was ordered to mess with the sailmaker, who--as I afterwards learnt--was directed by the captain to look well after me.

  On our arrival in Liverpool, the ship was docked, and the crew wentashore, with the exception of two men--both strangers to me--who withmyself were left on board.

  One of the men had something to do with the Custom House; and tried hardto induce me to go ashore, along with the rest of the crew. But theship being my only home, I was not willing to leave her; and I resistedall the inducements held out by the Custom House officer to that effect.The captain had gone away from the ship, after seeing her safe intoport; but I would not leave the vessel lest I should never meet himagain: for something told me he was my truest friend.

  The next day he came on board again; and seemed rather surprised atfinding me there.

  "Ah! little Rolling Stone," said he, "I've been inquiring for you; andam pleased to see you have not gone ashore. What do you intend to dowith yourself?"

  "Stay here," I answered, "until the ship sails again."

  "No, you can't stop here," said the captain. "You must come ashore, andlive somewhere--until the ship is made ready for sea."

  He continued to talk with me for half-an-hour; and obtained from me afull account of the circumstances under which I had left my home.

  "If I thought that you would stay with me, and do something foryourself," said Captain Hyland, after hearing my story, "I wouldendeavour to make a man of you."

  My reply to this was, that I preferred a life on the sea to any other,and that I left Captain Brannon, for the simple reason that I did notlike either him, or the man who had placed me under his control.

  "Very well," said the captain, "I'll keep you awhile on trial; and ifyou prove ungrateful for what I shall do for you, you will injureyourself, more than you can me."

  After this conversation, he took me ashore, bought me a suit of clothes;and then told me to accompany him to his own home.

  I found that Captain Hyland had a wife and one child--a girl about tenyears of age.

  I thought there could be nothing in the universe more beautiful thanthat girl. Perhaps there was not. Why should not my opinion on suchsubjects be as correct as that of others? But no man living could havelooked upon Lenore Hyland, without being convinced that she was verybeautiful.

  Six weeks passed before the ship was again ready for sea; and duringthat time I resided at the captain's house, and was the constantcompanion of his little daughter, Lenore.

  In the interval, my kind protector asked me--whether I would not like togo to Dublin for a few days, and see my mother.

  I told him that the "Hope" would then be in Dublin; and that I wouldcertainly be handed over to Captain Brannon.

  He reflected for a moment; and then allowed the subject to drop.

  I did feel some anxiety concerning my relatives; but was too happy inLiverpool, to change my condition by going to visit them.

  In order to satisfy my conscience, I thought of several reasons why Ishould not go home. They were easily found: for very idiotic, indeed,is that mind that cannot find arguments, in support of desires emanatingfrom itself--whether they be right or wrong.

  I knew that in whatever state I might find my relatives--or whatevermight have been the conduct of Mr Leary towards them--I would bepowerless either to aid them or punish him.

  I strove my best to make as little trouble as possible in my new home,and to gai
n the good will of Mrs Hyland. I had every reason to believethat my efforts were successful.

  In justice to her, I should state that my task was not so difficult, asit would have been with most women: for she was a kind-hearted lady, whohad the discernment to perceive that I was anxious to deserve, as wellas obtain her esteem.

  Before the ship was ready to sail, Lenore had learnt to call me_brother_; and when parting with her to go on board, her sorrow wasexpressed in a manner that gave me much gratification.

  Perhaps it is wrong for any one to feel pleasure at the demonstrationsof another's grief; but there are circumstances when such will be thecase, whether wrong or not. Unfortunate, indeed, is that lonely being,who has not in the wide world one acquaintance from whom he can part,with eyes dimmed by the bright drops of sorrow.

  There are thousands of seamen, who have wandered long and far from everyearly tie of kindred and friendship. They form no others; but wanderover the earth unloving, unloved and unknown--as wretched, reckless andlone, as the "last man," spoken of by the poet Campbell.

  There is ever a bright spot in the soul of that man, who has reason tobelieve that there is some one, who thinks of him with kindness when faraway; and that one bright spot will often point out the path of virtue--which otherwise might have been passed, undiscovered, or unheeded.

  Volume One, Chapter VII.

  CHOOSING A HORSE.

  The reader may justly say that I have dwelt too long on the incidents ofmy early years. As my excuse for having done so, I can only urge, thatthe first parts we play on the stage of life appear of more importanceto us than what they really are; and are consequently remembered moredistinctly and with greater interest than those of later occurrence.

  I will try not to offend in the same way again; and, as somecompensation for having been too tedious, I shall pass over nearly threeyears of my existence--without occupying much space in describing theincidents that transpired during this period. Circumstances aid me indoing so, for these three years were spent in a tranquil, happy manner.They produced no change in my situation: for I remained in the sameemployment--in the service of Captain Hyland.

  The ship "Lenore," owned and commanded by him, was a regular traderbetween Liverpool and New Orleans.

  In our voyages, the captain took as much trouble in trying to teach menavigation--and all other things connected with the profession of thesea--as he could have done had I been his own son.

  I appreciated his kindness; and had the gratification to know that myefforts to deserve it met with his warmest approbation.

  At every return to Liverpool, and during our sojourn there, his housewas my home. At each visit, my friendship for Mrs Hyland, and herbeautiful daughter Lenore, became stronger. It was mutual too; and Icame to be regarded almost as one of the family.

  When in Liverpool, I had frequent opportunities of going to Dublin tosee my mother, and with shame I confess that I did not make use of them.The attractions of my home in Liverpool proved too great for me toleave it--even for a short interval.

  I often thought of going to Dublin; and reflected with pride on the factthat I was getting to be a man, and would be able to protect myrelatives from any ill-treatment they might have received at the handsof Mr Leary. With all this, I did not go.

  Aboard of the ship, I had one enemy, who, for some reason not fullyunderstood, seemed to hate me as heartily, as one man could hateanother. This was the first mate, who had been with Captain Hyland forseveral years.

  He had witnessed with much disfavour the interest the captain took in mywelfare, from the time of my first joining the ship; and jealousy of myinfluence over the latter might have had much to do in causing themate's antipathy towards myself.

  The steward, sailmaker, and one or two others, who were permanentlyattached to the vessel, were all friends to the "Rolling Stone," thename by which I was generally known; but the hostility of the first matecould not be removed by any efforts I made towards that end.

  After a time, I gradually lost the nickname of the "Rolling Stone," andwas called by my proper name, Rowland. I suppose the reason was, thatmy actions having proved me willing and able to remain for some time inone situation, it was thought that I deserved to be called a "RollingStone" no longer.

  I had been nearly three years with Captain Hyland, and we were in NewOrleans--where the ship, lying at the wharf, was left under my charge.The captain himself had gone to stay at a hotel in the city; and I hadnot seen him for several days.

  The first mate was at this time neglecting his duty, and frequentlyremained over twenty-four hours absent from the ship. On one occasion,just as the latter came aboard to resume his duties, I receivedintelligence, that the captain was very ill, and wished to see meashore.

  Notwithstanding this message from the captain himself--the mate, whosename was Edward Adkins--refused to allow me to leave the ship.

  The season was summer; and I knew that many people were dying in thecity--which was scourged at the time with yellow fever.

  The captain had undoubtedly been taken ill of that disease; and,disregarding the commands of the mate, I went ashore with all haste tosee him.

  I found him, as I had anticipated, suffering from yellow fever. He hadjust sufficient consciousness to recognise, and bid me an eternalfarewell, with a slight pressure of his hand.

  He died a few minutes after; and a sensation came over me similar tothat I had experienced a few years before--when bending over the coldinanimate form of my father.

  Mr Adkins became the captain of the "Lenore," and at once gave me adischarge. My box was sent ashore; and I was not afterwards allowed toset foot on board of the ship!

  I appealed to the English Consul; but could obtain no satisfaction fromhim. I could not blame the official: for the mate was entitled to thecommand, and consequently had the right of choosing his crew.

  My wages were paid me--besides some trifling compensation, for beingdischarged in a foreign port.

  Again the new world was before me; and the question once more came up:"What am I to do?"

  I wished to return to Liverpool to see Mrs Hyland and Lenore. Theywere to me as a mother and sister. Who should carry to them the sadnews of their great misfortune? Who but myself?

  The beautiful Lenore, I must see her again. I had been fancying myselfin love with her for some time; but, now that her father was dead Ireflected more sensibly on the subject, and arrived at the conclusionthat I was a fool. I was but seventeen, and she only thirteen years ofage! Why should I return to Liverpool? I had a fortune to make; andwhy should I return to Liverpool?

  I thought of my mother, brother, and sister. They were under theill-treatment of a man I had every reason to hate. They might need myprotection. It was my duty to return to them. Should I go?

  This question troubled me for some time; but in the end it was settled.I did not go.

  Many will say that I neglected a sacred duty; but perhaps they havenever been placed in circumstances similar to mine. They have neverbeen in a foreign country, at the age of seventeen, in a city like NewOrleans.

  There was at this time a great commotion in the place. The fife anddrum were continually heard in the streets; and flags were flying fromhouses in different parts of the city--indicating the localities of"recruiting stations."

  The United States had declared war against Mexico; and volunteers wereinvited to join the army.

  Among other idlers, I enrolled myself.

  It was probably a very unwise act; but many thousands have done the samething; and I claim an equal right with others to act foolishly, if soinclined. We are all guilty of wise and foolish actions, or moreproperly speaking, of good and bad ones; and often, when desirous ofdoing the one, it ends by our committing the other.

  After being "mustered into the service," we were sent into the countryto a rendezvous, where the corps to which I belonged, which was to formpart of a cavalry regiment, received its allotted number of horses.

  To have pointe
d out a particular horse to a particular man, and havesaid "that is yours," would have given occasion for many to declare thatpartiality had been shown. For this reason, an arrangement was made bywhich each man was allowed to choose his own horse.

  The animals were ranged in a line, by being tied to a rail fence; andthen we were all mustered in rank, about two hundred and fifty yards tothe rear. It was then made known, that on a signal being given, eachone of us might take the horse that suited him best.

  The word of command was at length given; and a more interesting footrace was perhaps never witnessed, than came off on that occasion.

  I was good at running; but unfortunately but a poor judge of horseflesh.

  Only three or four of the company reached the fence before me; and I hadnearly all the horses from which to make my choice.

  I selected one, with a short neck and long flowing tail. He was ofcoal-black colour; and, in my opinion, the best looking horse of thelot. It was an intellectual animal--a horse of character--if ever ahorse had any mental peculiarities entitling him to such distinction.

  It was the first steed I ever had the chance of bestriding; and themovement by which I established myself on his back must have been eithervery cleverly, or very awkwardly executed: since it greatly excited themirth of my companions.

  The horse had a knack of dispensing with any disagreeable encumbrance;and having been so long a "Rolling Stone," I had not yet acquired theskill of staying where I was not wanted.

  When I placed the steed between my legs, he immediately gave me a hintto leave. I know not whether the hint was a strong one or not; but I doknow that it produced the result the horse desired: since he and Iinstantly parted company.

  I was informed that the animal came from Kentucky; and I have not theleast doubt about this having been the case, for after dealing me asommersault, it started off in the direction of the "dark and bloodyground," and was only stopped on its journey by a six foot fence.

  Those who were dissatisfied with the result of their choice, hadpermission to exchange horses with any other with whom they could makean arrangement.

  In the corps to which I belonged was a young man from the State of Ohio,named Dayton. When the scamper towards the horses took place, insteadof running with the rest, Dayton walked leisurely along; and arrivedwhere the horses were tied, after every other individual in the companyhad appropriated a steed. The only horse left for Dayton had also acharacter--one that can only be described by calling him a sedate andserious animal.

  This horse had a sublime contempt for either whip or spurs; andgenerally exercised his own judgment, as to the pace at which he shouldmove. That judgment equally forbade him to indulge in eccentricactions.

  Dayton proposed that we should exchange steeds--an offer that I gladlyaccepted. When my absconding horse was brought back to the camp, I madehim over to Dayton, by whom he was at once mounted.

  The animal tried the same movements with Dayton that had proved sosuccessful with me; but they failed. He was a good rider, and stuck tohis horse, as one of the men declared, "like death to a dead nigger."

  The creature was conquered, and afterwards turned out one of the besthorses in the troop.

  Volume One, Chapter VIII.

  AN EPISODE OF SOLDIER-LIFE.

  American authors have written so much about the Mexican war, that Ishall state nothing concerning it, except what is absolutely necessaryin giving a brief account of my own adventures--which, considering thetime and the place, were neither numerous nor in any way remarkable.

  While in the service of the United States during that campaign, I wasthe constant companion of Dayton. On the march and in the field ofstrife, we rode side by side with each other.

  We shared many hardships and dangers, and such circumstances usuallyproduce firm friendships. It was so in our case.

  Dayton was a young man who won many friends, and made almost as manyenemies, for he took but little care to conceal his opinions of others,whether they were favourable or not. Although but a private, he hadmore influence among his comrades than any other man in the company.The respect of some, and the fear of others, gave him a power that noofficer could command.

  I did not see much of the war: as I was only in two actions--those ofBuena Vista and Cerro Gordo.

  I know that some of the people of Europe have but a very poor opinion ofthe fighting qualities of the Mexicans, and may not dignify the actionsof Buena Vista and Cerro Gordo by the name of battles. These people aremistaken. The Mexicans fought well at Buena Vista, notwithstanding thatthey were defeated by men, said to be undisciplined.

  It has been stated in a London paper that the Mexicans are morecontemptible, as an enemy, than the same number of Chinamen. The authorof that statement probably knew nothing of either of the people he wroteabout; and he was thus undervaluing the Mexicans for no other reason,than that of disparaging the small but brave army to which I belonged.

  The Mexicans are not cowards. An individual Mexican has as much moraland physical courage as a man of any other country. As a general thingthey have as little fear of losing life or limb as any other people."Why then," some may ask, "were they beaten by a few thousand Americanvolunteers?"

  Without attempting to answer this question, I still claim that theMexicans are not cowards.

  In the battle of Buena Vista I lost the horse obtained by exchange fromDayton. The animal had been my constant care and companion, ever sinceI became possessed of him; and had exhibited so much character andintellect, that I thought almost as much of him, as I did of Dayton, mydearest friend.

  In my opinion, it is not right to take horses on to the field of battle.I never thought this, until I had my steed shot under me--when thesight of the noble animal struggling in the agonies of death, caused meto make a mental vow never again to go on horseback into a battle.

  This resolve, however, I was soon compelled to break. Another horse wasfurnished me the next day--on which I had to take my place in the ranksof my corps.

  One day the company to which I belonged had a skirmish with a party ofguerilleros.

  We were charging them--our animals urged to their greatest speed--whenDayton's horse received a shot, and fell. I could not stop to learn thefate of the rider, as I was obliged to keep on with the others.

  We pursued the Mexicans for about five miles; and killed over half oftheir number.

  On returning to camp, I traced back the trail over which we had pursuedthe enemy--in order to find Dayton. After much trouble I succeeded; andI believe no person ever saw me with more pleasure than did Dayton onthat occasion.

  The dead horse was lying on one of his legs, which had been broken. Hehad been in this situation for nearly three hours; and with all hisexertions had been unable to extricate himself.

  After getting him from under the terrible incubus, and making him ascomfortable as possible, I sought the assistance of some of mycompanions. These I fortunately found without much trouble, and weconveyed our wounded comrade to the camp. Dayton was afterwards removedto a hospital; and this was the last I saw of him during the Mexicanwar.

  I had but very little active service after this: for my company was leftbehind the main army; and formed a part of the force required forkeeping open a communication between Vera Cruz, and the capital ofMexico.

  The rest of the time I remained in the army, was only remarkable for itswant of excitement and tediousness; and all in the company were muchdissatisfied at not being allowed to go on to the Halls of Montezuma.The duty at which we were kept, was only exciting for its hardships; andAmerican soldiers very soon become weary of excitement of this kind. Wewere only too delighted, on receiving orders to embark for New Orleans.

  On the Sunday before sailing out of the port of Vera Cruz, I went insearch of some amusement; and commenced strolling through town in hopesof finding it. In my walk, I came across a man seated under an awning,which he had erected in the street, where he was dealing "Faro." Anumber of people were betting
against his "bank," and I lingered awhileto watch the game.

  Amongst others who were betting, was a drunken mule-driver, who had beenso far unfortunate as to lose all his money--amounting to about onehundred dollars.

  The "MD"--as the mule-drivers were sometimes styled--either justly, ornot, accused the gambler of having cheated him. He made so muchdisturbance, that he was at length forced away from the table by othersstanding around it--who, no doubt, were interested in the game.

  The "MD" went into a public-house near by; and soon after came outagain, carrying a loaded rifle.

  Advancing within about twenty paces of the table where the gambler wasengaged, he called out to the crowd to stand aside, and let him have ashot at the "skunk," who had cheated him.

  "Yes," said the gambler, placing his hand on a revolver, "stand aside,gentlemen, if you please, and let him have a chance!"

  Those between them, obeyed the injunction in double quick time; and, assoon as the space was clear enough to give a line for his bullet, thegambler fired--before the "MD" had raised the rifle to his shoulder.

  The mule-driver was shot through the heart; and the game went on!

  We had an interesting voyage from Vera Cruz to New Orleans. Thehardships of the march and camp were over. Some were returning to homeand friends; and all were noisy--some with high animal spirits, and somewith strong ardent spirits, known under the name of _rum_.

  There was much gambling on the ship, and many rows to enliven thepassage; but I must not tarry to describe all the scenes I have met, orthe narrative of the Life of a Rolling Stone will be drawn out too longfor the patience of my readers.

  We landed in New Orleans, were paid what money was due to us, anddisbanded--each receiving a bounty warrant for one hundred and sixtyacres of land.

  In the company to which I belonged, were some of my countrymen, who hadbeen in the English army; and I often conversed with them, as to thecomparative treatment of the soldiers of the English and Americanarmies. I shall give the conclusion we came to upon this subject.

  A majority of English soldiers have relatives whom they visit and withwhom they correspond. The reader will easily understand that when suchis the case, thousands of families in the United Kingdom have more thana national interest in the welfare of the army, and the manner itssoldiers are treated. The sympathies of the people are with them; and asoldier, who may be ill-used, has the whole nation to advocate hiscause.

  The majority of American regular soldiers are isolated beings--so far ashome and friends are concerned--and about the only interest the nationat large takes in their welfare is, that they do their duty, and earntheir pay.

  This difference is understood by the soldiers of both armies; and it hasits effect on their character.

  In England, the army is regarded as an important part of the nation.

  In the United States, it is not; but only as a certain assemblage ofmen, employed by the people to do a certain work--for which they receivegood wages, and plenty of food: for in these respects, the Americansoldier has an advantage over the English, almost in the ratio of two toone!

  Volume One, Chapter IX.

  A FRUITLESS SEARCH.

  There were speculators in New Orleans, engaged in buying land warrantsfrom the returning volunteers. I sold mine to one of them, for onehundred and ten dollars. Besides this amount, I had about fifty dollarssaved from my pay.

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  I shall now have the pleasure of recording the fact that I made one movein the right direction. I set sail for my childhood's home.

  Conscience had long troubled me, for having neglected to look after thewelfare of my relatives; and I embarked for Dublin with a mind gratifiedby the reflection that I was once more on the path of duty.

  So much pleasure did this give me, that I resolved ever after to followthe guiding of reason, as to my future course in life. The right courseis seldom more difficult to pursue than the wrong one, while the wearand tear of spirit in pursuing it is much easier.

  How many strange thoughts rushed into my brain--how many interrogationsoffered themselves to my mind, as we dropped anchor in Dublin Bay.Should I find my mother living? Should I know my brother William and mysister Martha? What had become of Mr Leary? Should I have to killhim?

  Such questions, with many others of a similar nature, coursed through mysoul while proceeding towards the city.

  I hurried through the streets, without allowing anything to distract mythoughts from these themes. I reached the house that had been the homeof my childhood.

  At the door, I paused to recover from an unusual amount of excitement;but did not succeed in quelling the tumultuous emotions that thrilled myspirit with an intensity I had never experienced before.

  I looked cautiously into the shop. It was no longer a saddle