Abbildungen der Seite


Story of the Wanderer returned.

“ W illiam and myself, Sir, are fome. “ what turned of seventeen ; our mothers " are sisters, and became widows when we “ were very young.-William's father had “ been all his life at sea, and at his death “ had nothing to leave bis family. My " father was a cutler; and my mother “ sade hift to keep on the business, " through the kindnels of my father's old " master, who still followed his profeflion " at Tottenham. Thus she had more in “ her power than my aunt, and I was lazy: “ many an hour when William labouręd; “ for, as long as I can remember, he was " always industrious; and whatever he “ could earn, or was given him, he took "to his mother, whose only means of life " was working at her needle and knitting. “ I was regularly kept to school, and lo


[ocr errors][ocr errors]

“ indeed was William, but his mother t could not afford to pay; he therefore s worked out the expence, in whatever as the schoolmaster thought fit to employ « him; and made, in a short time, such “ improvement, that there was not a boy “ in the whole school wrote so good a 6 hand; beside, if any body at Edmonton 66 wanted a trusty lad to do an errand, on 54 any thing particular, they were sure to " say, * Send for William Parker; you “ may trust him with your life.—”.

« Indeed, George," interrupted his cousin, blushing, “ your story is so tedious, " that it makes - one ashamed, and will: so weary the gentleman.”

“I am sorry for it,” returned George : “ but I only spoke truth, as many can tes. “ tify.--Nothing material happened until “ we reached our fourteenth year, when “ both our parents wished us to learn some “ business whereby we might gain a live“ lihood : mine, indeed, was fixed, for my “ mother was anxious for me to learn my * father's, as his customers would also >

G 3.

o have


[ocr errors]

“ have continued mine-Williain was wil“ling to learn whatever was most conve- , “ nient; but unfortunately his mother “ could pay no premium, so that he was “ not immediately placed. In the mean " time I was apprenticed to my father's old " master, now much in years, and who, I “ must honestly confess, now I have ex

perienced the difference, treated me like “ his own child. I was however regardév less of his kindness, and thought it very “ hard to work a few hours in the day : “ for I had been accuftomed to play and “ amuse myself, until I began to feel as if “ 1 was made for ‘no other purpose ; and “frequently said to my companions, though “ I could make no reasonable objection, " that I hated the business, and would “ never learn it : then, if I was fent on the * most trivial message, I was sure to stay * by the way three times as long as was “ necessary; fo that by the time I had “ served a quarter of a year, I fincerely “ believe, my master was heartily tired, “though, for my parents' fake, he bore



ut with me. In the mean time, my aunt
6. was greatly distreffed to place William.
“ when hearing that her late husband's
“ Captain was in town, returned from a
"ta foreign station, where he had been long
“ fixed, she determined to take her son
«s and consult him; for he had been a good
“ friend to her husband. ---Captain Wells
“ received her with great kindness, expres-
« sed his sorrow for her loss, and shook Wil-
“ liam heartily by the hand, saying, ' What
I think you, my lad, of your father's profer-
- fion? Boys and men we sailed together five-

and-thirty years ; drubbed our foes in
• many an engagement, yet came off with all

< our limbs, and he died at last in his bed ... by neither powder nor bail.'-I have

« heard my aunt tell this, and she said she 66 could not forbear replying, 'God send,

Sir, when your time comes, you may

do the same ; for yours is a perilous 16 life.”---The will of Heaven be done,'

- answered the Captain : “ I fear God, and . bave no other fear; and in whatever shape I am to meet death, I hope it will be i with the fortitude and resignation of a " Christian ; for, in my gayest moments, • I have never failed to remember that my s life was an uncertain tenure, to be claim. .ed, perhaps, at a moment's warning.-But • what say you, my boy, to my proposal ? s or rather what says your mother, she must


determine this business? I never yet. engaged a lad without the consent of his. parents, nor will I begin now; for a

good conscience makes us fail lightly, « but an evil one is a very troublesome

companion in a storm ; so I don't choose 6 to be plagued with it."

Good Sir, answered my aunt, "this. s poor boy is now my all.?

" Why, then, you should endeavour to 'make a man of him,' returned he ; but

I would by no means. persuade you : I give this business a week's reflection, 6 and let me know the result. If you trust

him to me, I will be his friend; or if

you prefer putting him apprentice, I will. • pay his premium, for the sake of his honeft father."


« ZurückWeiter »