He had not been long at home when a neighbor, entering one day, said, "James, do you want a job?"
"Yes," answered James, eagerly.
"There's a farmer in Newburg wants some wood chopped."
"I can do it," said James, quietly.
"Then you'd better go and see him."
Newburg is within the present limits of Cleveland, and thither James betook himself the next day.
He was a stout boy, with the broad shoulders and sturdy frame of his former ancestors, and he was sure he could give satisfaction.
The farmer, dressed in homespun, looked up as the boy approached.
"Are you Mr. –?" asked James.
"Yes."
"I heard that you wanted some wood chopped."
"Yes, but I am not sure if you can do it," answered the farmer, surveying the boy critically.
"I can do it," said James, confidently.
"Very well, you can try. I'll give you seven dollars for the job."
The price was probably satisfactory, for James engaged to do the work. There proved to be twenty-five cords, and no one, I think, will consider that he was overpaid for his labor.
He was fortunate, at least, in the scene of his labor, for it was on the shore of Lake Erie, and as he lifted his eyes from his work they rested on the broad bosom of the beautiful lake, almost broad enough as it appeared to be the ocean itself, which he had a strange desire to traverse in search of the unknown lands of which he had read or dreamed.
I suppose there are few boys who have not at some time fancied that they should like "a life on the ocean wave, and a home on the rolling deep." I have in mind a friend, now a physician, who at the age of fifteen left a luxurious home, with the reluctant permission of his parents, for a voyage before the mast to Liverpool, beguiled by one of the fascinating narratives of Herman Melville. But the romance very soon wore off, and by the time the boy reached Halifax, where the ship put in, he was so seasick, and so sick of the sea, that he begged to be left on shore to return home as he might. The captain had received secret instructions from the parents to accede to such a wish, and the boy was landed, and in due time returned home as a passenger. So it is said that George Washington had an early passion for the sea, and would have become a sailor but for the pain he knew it would give his mother.
James kept his longings to himself for the present, and returned home with the seven dollars he had so hardly earned.
There was more work for him to do. A Mr. Treat wanted help during the haying and harvesting season, and offered employment to the boy, who was already strong enough to do almost as much as a man; for James already had a good reputation as a faithful worker. "Whatever his hands found to do, he did it with his might," and he was by no means fastidious as to the kind of work, provided it was honest and honorable.
When the harvest work was over James made known his passion for the sea.
Going to his mother, he said: "Mother, I want above all things to go to sea."
"Go to sea!" replied his mother in dismay. "What has put such an idea into your head?"
"It has been in my head for a long time," answered the boy quietly. "I have thought of nothing else for the last year."
Chapter III—In Quest Of Fortune
James had so persuaded himself that the sea was his vocation, and was so convinced of the pleasures and advantages it would bring, that it had not occurred to him that his mother would object.
"What made you think of the sea, James?" his mother asked with a troubled face.
"It was the books I read last year, at the black salter's. Oh, mother, did you ever read Marryatt's novels, and 'Sinbad the Sailor'?"
"I have read 'Sinbad the Sailor,' but you know that is a fairy story, my son."
"It may be, but Marryatt's stories are not. It must be splendid to travel across the mighty ocean, and see foreign countries."
"A sailor doesn't have the chance to see much. You have no idea of the hardships of his life."
"I am used to hardships, and I am not afraid of hard work. But you seem disappointed, mother. What have you thought of for me?"
"I have hoped, James, that you might become a learned man, perhaps a college professor. Surely that would be better than to be a common sailor."
"But I wouldn't stay a common sailor, mother. I would be a captain some time."
I suppose there is no doubt that, had James followed the sea, he would have risen to the command of a ship, but the idea did not seem to dazzle his mother.
"If you go to sea I shall lose you," said his mother. "A sailor can spend very little time with his family. Think carefully, my son. I believe your present fancy will be short-lived, and you will some day wonder that you ever entertained it."
Such, however, was not the boy's idea at the time. His mother might have reason on her side, but it takes more than reason to dissipate a boy's passion for the sea.
"You speak of my becoming a scholar, mother," he said, "but there doesn't seem much chance of it. I see nothing but work as a carpenter, or on the farm."
"You don't know what God may have in store for you, my son. As you say, there seems no way open at present for you to become a scholar; but if you entertain the desire the way will be open. Success comes to him who is in earnest."
"What, then, do you want me to do, mother! Do you wish me to stay at home?"
"No, for there seems little for you to do here. Go to Cleveland, if you like, and seek some respectable employment. If, after a time, you find your longing for the sea unconquered, it will be time to look out for a berth on board ship."
James, in spite of his earnest longing to go to sea, was a reasonable boy, and he did not object to his mother's plan. The next morning he tied his slender stock of clothing in a small bundle, bade a tearful good-bye to his mother, whose loving glances followed him far along his road, and with hope and enthusiasm trudged over a hard road to Cleveland, that beautiful city, whither, nearly forty years afterward, he was to be carried in funereal state, amid the tears of countless thousands. In that city where his active life began, it was to finish.
A long walk was before him, for Cleveland was seventeen miles away. He stopped to rest at intervals, and it was not until the sun had set and darkness enveloped the town that he entered it with weary feet.
He betook himself to a cheap boarding-place whither he had been directed, and soon retired to bed. His fatigue brought him a good night's sleep, and he woke refreshed and cheered to look about him and decide upon his future plans.
Cleveland does not compare in size with New York, Philadelphia, or Boston, and thirty-five years ago it was much smaller than now. But compared with James' native place, and the villages near him, it was an impressive place. There were large business blocks, and handsome churches, and paved streets, and a general city-like appearance which interested James greatly. On the whole, even if he had to give up going to sea, he thought he might enjoy himself in such a lively place as this. But of course he must find employment.
So he went into a store and inquired if they wanted a boy.
"What can you do?" asked the storekeeper, looking at the boy with his countrified air and rustic suit.
"I can read, write, and cipher," answered James.
"Indeed!" said the storekeeper smiling. "All our boys can do that. Is that all you can do?"
James might have answered that he could chop wood, work at carpentering, plant and harvest, but he knew very well that these