Torrey's Narrative; or, The Life and Adventures of William Torrey. William Torrey

came running in, half out of breath, saying, "Harris is taken, prepare immediately for the police office." I jumped for joy, went to the office; was asked if I could swear to the prisoner at the bar to be the one who hired the horses of Warner. I replied that I could. A bill being immediately found against him, we were ordered to prison, he as a criminal, and I as evidence against him, but to separate apartments. The next morning we were taken to the office again. I was ordered upon the stand, and made to tell what I knew of the late character of Harris. The statement of Warner and the lady confirmed the statements I had made. He was ordered back to jail to await his trial at a higher court which would sit in about three weeks; I to be kept as evidence against him at said court. After a few days, I was allowed the privilege of walking about the yard; and was very kindly treated by the family of the jailer. The time passed so pleasantly that it soon was time for the sitting of the court. We were taken to the court-house, where we found the lady, her son, and daughter, the owner of the watch, and Mr. Warner. The watch, the money, and the dulcimer, were also there, and recognized by real owners. My statements, confirmed by the others, proved a verdict of guilty to him; and, at the expiration of three days, he entered upon his sentence, which was seventeen years hard labor at Wethersfield prison. I was taken by the honorable judge, whose head was frosted over by the winter of age, to his own house. Tears ran down those furrowed cheeks as he, with a father-like simplicity, pointed me to the paths of rectitude, urging me to pursue them to the end—holding up to my mind the recent case of Harris as the reward of the evil doer. Gave me my living while I remained with him, and two dollars from his own purse, and besought me to return directly to my father's roof.

      I retraced my steps towards home. Stopped with Warner a short time. Was most joyously welcomed home.

      I remained with my father nearly three years, having but little desire to roam; finding at length the life of a factory boy rather unpleasant, I thought again to try my luck. I was near three years older than before, besides having the experience of the former cruise. I was quite sure I was then able to take care of myself. I went to Springfield, took stage for Albany, intending to ride as far as my money would carry me. I rode about forty miles and concluded to try it on foot; had proceeded but a little way when I fell in with a Caravan; I traveled with them for small wages; came to Albany, run one trip to Rochester on a line boat, took passage to New York on a sloop, arrived there with but twenty-five cents in my purse. I resolved to depend upon charity, as in fact I was obliged to do, for my small allowance would hardly be worth mentioning in the way of living. I met two frank looking young men in the garb of sailors, and knowing something of the true character of sailors, I made known to them my situation and solicited aid. They took me to a house kept by a widow lady and ordered for me all that my necessities required, and they would see the bills settled. I remained with this good lady a day or two, she doing all she could to make me comfortable and happy. Besides her naturally good heart, she had the remembrance of her only son being out upon the tempestuous sea of life to prompt her to deeds of love and charity, having, as she hoped, the assurance that all acts of kindness shown towards the unfortunate, would be repaid by similar deeds of love and care being shown to her son. Never can forgetfulness deprive me of the fond remembrance of this kind woman. The tears trickled down her cheeks as she bade me be a good boy and besought me as I loved the mother who gave me birth, to return to her and be a solace to her declining years.

      I left her, resolved to go home, proceeded to the wharves, found a vessel going to Middletown, engaged a privilege of working my passage, went on board and shoved out from the dock, but soon found that instead of nearing home I was getting still farther from it, for instead of going to Middletown, Connecticut, we were bound to a place of the same name in New Jersey. I performed the voyage with a sorrowing heart. On our arrival I went from one vessel to another, but found none bound to New York. I then concluded to go on foot, and went on my way to Brown's point, so called, with a heart near bursting with grief. I went into a house occupied by a middle aged lady, asked for lodging, it being near night and very rainy. She said, "By your looks young sir, I perceive you have been weeping; unburden your grief to me, and if in my power, I will assist you."

      I told her of my situation, of the great mistake I had made, and the state of my funds, having to depend upon charity entirely, and how long I knew not, knowing of no other way of getting home, except by going on foot. She kindly offered me a share of her humble fare as long as I chose, or till some opportunity for continuing my journey offered itself. She learned that a schooner loaded with wood would sail in a few days for New York in charge of her son, on which she engaged me a passage. I bade adieu to the kind lady when ready, and sailed for New York; prosperous winds brought a speedy termination of the voyage; the Captain gave me a dollar for my services and a home on his boat as long as we might both remain in port.

      Again I tried to get a berth on one of the many vessels lying at the docks, and at each of them received the same answer, "you are a runaway boy, we have no place for you." I now resolved that home was the best place for me, at least for the present, though I was altogether unwilling to abandon wholly the idea of becoming a sailor; found an opportunity of getting to East Haddam, where on my arrival, I found work for two or three months, at the expiration of which time I again started for home; was received most joyously by my friends, who entreated me to return to my wanderings no more.

      Again I went to work in the mill, with the same discontentedness as before, for the desire to roam was paramount to all others, and I resolved to try my fortune in another direction. I made known my determination to a co-laborer in the mill and solicited his company; he readily accepted my proposals.

      Together we shaped our course towards Boston, thinking to get a berth at sea. The harbor being frozen rendered business very dull, and we gave up the idea through compulsion. Foiled in that attempt, we started for Charlestown, having our imaginations pointing high to our future greatness as soldiers; but a visit to the Navy Yard, which occupied some sixty acres, and the barracks, the soldiers' home, dispelled the charm entirely, and we hurried from the place and went to seek our fortunes elsewhere. We came to four corners, undecided which course to steer. Setting up a stick we agreed to follow in the direction which that should fall. True to this agreement we followed its dictation, and still continued on our course into the country, though upon a different tack. Our appetites were now considerably sharpened by the excessive cold, and we cast lots which should solicit food from the hand of charity. Chance threw the task upon me. This I was willing to bear, having been inured to such situations in my former wanderings. I would gladly avoided the necessity, but such was our need of food that I broke over all feelings of delicacy and entered a good looking farm house, where we found smoking hot one of those huge dishes of baked beans so common in New England, to which we did ample justice. After dinner we went on to the small manufacturing village of Shirley. There I obtained employment. My friend finding none, was obliged to wander on towards home. I was employed three months, when a dullness of the times caused a suspension in part of the business, and I turned my face homeward again to see if the pent up village of Chicopee Falls would now hold out any inducement to my staying there. My stay in the mill was even more tedious than before, and I resolved to be there no longer. I encouraged several of my associates to go with me.

      To get away with so many required some stratagem. I appointed Sunday, the first day of June, 1830, as the day for our starting. My repeated going and coming rendered the affair, as far as I was concerned, no uncommon thing, and but little was said to prevent me, supposing I was alone in it.

      At the appointed time we came together and started for Hartford; arrived there the first night; put up at the hotel. In the morning while standing in front of the house, we were accosted by a person who asked, "if we wanted employment?" We assured him that we did; he said, "he had a quantity of flour which he wished removed to the store-house." That was not the business we wanted, but still we were willing to do it for the pay. We went to the store-house, and as soon as we were in he turned the key, saying he only wanted me, and that I should be soon called upon by Mr. Bird, who would be pleased to have me accompany him to Chicopee Falls. The affair was then plain to my mind; we were traced, and found, and this means had been taken to get me back. I remarked that "I should esteem it a great pleasure to ride with him, though my business arrangements were such that it would be rather inconvenient for me to go at that time." Soon Mr. Bird arrived, saying he "was ordered to tie me behind his carriage and drive home." I asked by whom ordered; he