Our story opens on one of those singularly beautiful
mornings which the coast of New-England
presents in the month of August, when the fogs,
having for some time resisted the unclouded splendor
of the sun's rays, begin to lift and break, and
roll seaward in majestic volumes, ascending as
they move, until they rest in the calm blue bosom
of heaven.

It was on such a morning in August, 182—, before
steamboats had taken the place of packetsloops,
that a `Kennebec trader' lay off the harbor
of Boston, completely enveloped in a fogbank.
She was a pretty-painted sloop, and carried,
in addition to her huge mainsail and wide
jib, a flying topsail, while at her mast-head hung
a green flag, which, when, at intervals, it was
spread out by the light east wind, showed the
name `Aurora' displayed conspicuously in red
letters on a yellow ground. The fog was so dense,
that no object could have been seen twice the
sloop's length. A slight wind just rippled the
surface of the slow-heaving ground-swell, on
which the sloop rocked with a flapping mainsail
and rattling blocks. On her deek was a cargo of
staves and new barrels, piled to the fifth rattling
of her shrouds. On the top of this load was perched
a little black caboose, at which an old negro was
cooking breakfast, and from which the fumes of
fried pork and potatoes floated astern with the
abundant smoke, affording to the skipper at the
helm a grateful precursor of what was to come.—
A space on the quarter deck round the companion
way had been left clear for the better accommodation,
when on deck, of sundry passengers which
the skipper had taken in at Bath and Augusta,
towns on the Kennebec river, whence, three
days before, he had taken his daparture, bound
for Boston. As yet, none of them had made their
appearance from the cabin. The skipper in his
narrow-brimmed chip hat, fastened by a lanyard
to the button-hole of a tarry roundabout, his horny
sunbrowned hand, grasping the carved knob of
the crooked necked tiller, stood with one eye
shut and the other half-a-peep, peering through
the fog, his hand hollowed back of his left ear,
listening for surge shore ward, or the noise of any
vessel that might chance to be in his vicinity.—
Forward were gathered his crew, consisting of
Parson Pearl the cook, who had in his better days
`held forth' at camp-meetings—an old, grey-headed,
good-natured, rum-loving negro, who
like all old blacks, had been a servant of `massa
Washington.' A blue greasy cotton cap, which
served him in divers capacities in his office of
cook, was stuck on to the top of his grizzly locks,
save when he took it off to rub the coat of a potatoe,
wipe a knife, clean out a cup, or fan his coals
into a flame. A long-tailed blue, marvellously
torn and patched, and of a fashion ten years gone,
graced his back, while a pair of breeches that had
belonged to an antiquated medical gentleman,
whom he had once lived with in the village from
whence the sloop sailed, encased his legs; for the
calves of which, nature herself furnished a pair
of shining black hose.

With a grave and solemn visage, such as became
the important business in which he was engaged,
that of cutting potatoes into thin slices
for frying, Parson Pearl sat in the midst of his cloud
of smoke, feeling all the responsibility of his position.
Lolling over the windlass, listlessly watching
him, were a man about twenty-eight years
old and a half-grown boy—the sloop's crew. The
elder was a slop-sided, lank-looking Kennebecker,
with long straight hair pulled down over his eyes,
a quid of tobacco in his cheek, a rusty belt top
stuck upon the back of his head, and who rejoiced
in the name of Seth Pinkham 3d, The other was
a thick, short, white headed varlet, with a fat face
and round belly, and a twinkling blue eye full of
mischief. He was dressed in full canvass trowsers,
blue shirt, and black scarf loosely knotted
about his neck, wore white socks, and pumps;
and sported a ring on his little finger. The hair
on each temple was twisted with a long corkscrew
curl, which he was fond of playing with, and
always admiring with great self complaceney.—
He was a regular lad-seaman in his appearance
and dress, and a foul anchor imprinted with India
ink into his wrist, and the initials of some lass
ashore done upon his fair white neck, rendered
visible by the gaping of his shirt bosom, showed
that he was a true `salt' in embryo. Billy Biddle—
for such was his name—had been at sea two
voyages to Europe, and was now working his

[figure description] Page 002.[end figure description]

passage up to Boston, after a short visit to his mother
at Hallowell, to ship again on a foreign voyage.

Slowly the sloop glided through the mist in
which she was enveloped. At intervals, the blue
sky could be seen overhead, but the fog lay
upon the water impenetrable. The skipper, old
captain Ansel Nye, in vain looked and listened,
while cautiously and auxiously he let his little
sloop move steadily onward. His compass told
him that he was going westward, and he knew by
his running that he must be up with the `Graves,'
or very near them. So he stood on, depending
more upon his ear than upon his eye.

`Don't you hear breakers, Mr. Pinkham?' he
suddenly asked with anxiety.

`It's the Parson's pertaters a-sizzlin,' sir, said
Bill, before Seth could uncoil his tongue.

`Now dem's a nation slander o' Bill's, massa
skipper,' responded Pearl from his caboose—taking
off his blue cotton cap and wiping the perspiration
from his forehead; `I'se nebber fry pataty
vot sizzle so leetle. Real kennebecker wegetable,
and no water in em. You lie, white boy, you
tell skipper nigger's fryin pan sizzle like de
breaker! It am de breaker, mas' skipper, I hear
`um!' and old Pearl stuck a tin pot against his ear
to catch the sound. `He break dar' or nigger nebber
know what breaker am.'

`I guess there's sumthin or nuther, captain,'
said Seth; `there's a mighty noise away here;
and Mr. Pinkham stretched forth his arm and
pointed in a direction two points off the starboard
bow.

`That's where I thought I heard it. Hark! it
is a plain surging of the sea! we are coming near
breakers!'

`It's a porpoise blowing,' said Bill; `hear him
now!'

All listened; and the noise coming nearer and
clearer, the skipper was satisfied that it was a
shoal of porpoises; the next moment they were
heard close at hand, blowing and floundering,
and all at once they made their appearance, coming
out of the fog within a few fathoms of the
sloop, and making directly across her bows! As
they floundered past with loud blowing, and a
tumultuous dashing of the waves, the passengers
rushed on deck with great alarm visible on their
countenances, only in time to discover the black
dorsal fin and round shining back of the last one
of the train disappearing in the mist to leeward.

`Bless us! what was that, captain?' cried a
portly country gentleman in his shirt sleeves, his
coat on his arm, one boot on his foot and the other
in his hand.

`Old Neptune, sir,' said Billy pertly, `come to
tell old Pearl he should call for him this time next
year.'

`Debill cotch you, youngster, `fore massa Nep'
come for trouble ole nigger,' said Pearl, retorting;
`it be a scool ob sea-hog, massa Harefoot,'
he added, replying in a respectful tone to the
alarmed gentleman with a coat on his arm.

`A sea-hog!' repeated the country merchant;
`I have heard of sea-lawyers, but never that I remember
of sea-hogs.'

`The Parson means porpoises,' said the skipper,
his weather-beaten visage slightly relaxing
with a smile.

`Oh, ah! porpoises. I thought we might have
encountered a whale. It was a terrible noise, captain,
hey? You seamen have a perilous profession.
For my part, I shall be glad when I get to
the end of this voyage. Nothing, but to see my
son safely in a store in Boston would have brought
me up in a vessel; but the route by stage for two
is so expensive. Dear me! well, I am glad it is
no worse! Why, what a fog! How can you see
to steer? Where are we?' inquired the inquisitive
and very much perplexed Mr. Harefoot.

`Near the Graves,' answered the skipper.

`Near our graves! Good heavens, Captain
Nye!' exclaimed the portly gentleman, hastily
drawing on his other boot; `how can you talk so
coolly? Is there no way of escape?'

The skipper then briefly explained that the graves
he meant were a reef of rocks, so called from Admiral
Graves, who there lost one of his ships.
This explanation greatly relieved the apprehensions
of the portly gentleman, who, learning that
they were in no imminent danger, began to inspect
the operations of Parson Pearl, and to inhale
with peculiar gratification the savoury odor that
floated aft.

In a few minutes the rest of the passengers were
dressed and on deck, and Pearl went below to clear
up and set the table for breakfast. Besides Mr.
Harefoot, who was a respectable merchant in the
town of Augusta, there were four other passengers.
One of these was his son, a good-looking,
if not handsome youth of seventeen, dressed for
shore, in a new olive coat, cut exceeding short in
the waist, with a high cotton-velvet collar; a garment
made by the Kennebec tailor with an eye to
its being sported in Washington street, and therefore
was in the best fashion known to him; blue
silk vest with gilt buttons, a blue cravat, and pantaloons
off the same piece with his coat, with a
narrow, high crowned, long furred hat, completed
his costume; which for the region from whence
he came was a very dandish one, and therefore
had not been mounted until this morning, with
the prospect of soon being in Boston, where its
merits could be appreciated. His father had kept
him at the `Hook' Academy with Preceptor
Green till he though; him fitted to place in a
store, for which end he was now conducting him
up to Boston; his greatest ambition being to see
his son one day a great Boston merchant. Henry
Harefoot was a youth of good habits, and, save a
fondness for dress and judging of others too much
by what they had on, he had as few faults as could
be expected in a boy just from school. His father
was a worldly-minded man, and only looked to
his boy's getting rich; but his mother had a high
sense of parental responsibility, and therefore,
educated her son religiously, and impressed upon
his expanding mind moral and religious truth.
Henry, therefore, grew up a conscientious boy;
and at this time an oath, a lie, a vulgar and indecent
word, were strangers to his tongue. He had
naturally a good mind, which he had cultivated
by reading, of which he was extravagantly fond;
his sensibilities were quick, his heart generous,
and his disposition social: in fine, he possessed
at the time we introduce him to the reader on his
passage to Boston, all the elements of a good and

[figure description] Page 003.[end figure description]

useful if not eminent man. He looked forward
to his visit to Boston and his residence there as
apprentice (or `clerk,' as it is termed in courtesy,)
to some merchant, with emotions of pleasure
and hopes that gilded all the future.

Another of the passengers was a plain, respectable-looking
man, with his son and daughter;
the former a youth about the age of Henry Harefoot,
and the sister about a year and a half younger.
Mr. Wentworth, the father, was a hatter, and
had quite a large establishment, which brought
him in a comfortable income; but as he had a
large family of children, he was under the necessity,
to do justice to all, to place them, as they became
old enough, in some employment. He had
already three sons bound out to different trades,
and a daughter keeping school. He was now
taking the two with him to find situations for
them; for Pierce with some respectable master
carpenter, and for Isabel with a lady-like milliner
who had formerly lived in Augusta, and whom he
knew very well. Pierce was an intelligent looking
youth, with a pleasing expression when he
spoke, and an air of frankness that was prepossessing
and invited confidence. He was dressed
in a plain suit of blue cassimere, coarse but neat,
and perfectly fitting his fine form. His sister was
a pretty, laughing-eyed brunette, of that soft,
olive tint rarely found in New England and supposed
peculiar to Louisiana. Her form was just
developing, and already foretold the ripe loveliness
mature womanhood would unfold. She was
a beautiful child of nature, all too guileless to be
trusted from beneath a guardian father's eye or
far removed from a protecting mother's arm.

The remaining passenger was Mr. George
Washington St. John Leighton, a young man
just from Bowdoin College, returning to his father,
who was a distiller in Boston, his diplomaed
head filled with Latin and fluxions, his fingers
loaded with rings, a silver watch in his fob, and
a proud opinion of his own importance prevading
his soul. During the passage, scarcely had he
deigned to unbend himself save to Isabel Wentworth,
whom he annoyed by his gaze and disgusted
by his barefaced flattery.

Such were the passengers and crew of the sloop
`Aurora' as she lay off Boston Harbor waiting
for the fog to lift; and as some of them may make
their appearance hereafter in our story, we have
been thus particular in naming them.

`Does the mist lift any, Captain?' asked Mr.
Wentworth, as they stood on deck, looking ahead
into the fog.

`Not that I perceive,' answered the skipper,
looking above and around him.

Silently they glided on for a few minutes, when
they were startled by the sharp rattling of blocks
at a short distance from them in the fog to windward,
the creaking and chafing of yards, and a
low rippling sound, as if a vessel was passing
through the water. Quicker than thought the
skipper put the helm hard up, sprung to the main
sheet and let it go, and at the top of his lungs,
shouted,

`Luff, luff, or you'll be aboard. Cast off that
jib sheet, Mr. Pinkham,' and then with his eyes
fixed to windward with anxious apprehension,
the skipper put his vessel off free.

`Luff it is,' had instantly and startingly been
returned through the fog; and the swaying of
yards and the drawing of cordage was heard; and
the next instant, moving like a speetre ship
through the mist, a stately brig glided astern to
leeward, and vanished scarcely ere she was seen
Every eye was turned upon the spirit-like structure—
every heart ceased beating with suspense,
till the imminent danger disappeared with her.

`That was a narrow escape, captain,' said the
portly passenger, drawing in a long breath and
emitting it again with great relief; `if he had
struck us we should have gone to the bottom.'

The skipper made no reply—his ear was intent
on catching some sound ahead. Suddenly old
Pearl, who was conveying the breakfast from his
caboose to the cabin, uttered an exclamation of
surprise, dropped a plate of fried onions upon the
barrels over which he was walking, and pointing
upward, cried,

`Got a' massy, mas' Skipper, look dar.'

The skipper's eye followed the upward direction
of the astounded African's, and to his astonishment
he beheld, almost over the mast head,
towering high in air, the black cap of the light-house,
like the giant of the mist.

`Ready about,' he shouted; and the sloop,
obeying her helm, turned her bowsprit aside from
the cliff, which now appeared close ahead lifting
its rocky battlements, black and fearful, high in
the air, and just in time to save herself. With
glad emotions, the passengers as well as the skipper
watched the light-house, which had shot
itself high above the fog, once more received into
its bosom.

This imminent danger had not been without its
advantage, by giving the skipper accurate knowledge
of his situation; and he now felt that he
could lay his course into port without having any
thing to apprehend but the danger of falling foul
of other vessels.

As the sun got more power the mist became
lighter, and removed at a farther distance from
the sloop, which, having cleared the light-house
point, was gliding easily along before a gentle
wind, steered by compass and ear. After they
had breakfasted and come on deck, the passengers
were surprised to see that the sun-rays penetrating
through a clear space above, had created
two brilliant rainbows in the mist off either bow
While Isabel Wentworth was admiring their evervarying
beauty, the fog as if by magic fell down
upon the sea, reaching only the tops of numerous
islands, and the upper masts and sails of many
vessels all around them. Never had she seen a
sight so strange and beautiful. The thick silvery
fog lay upon the top of the water about ten feet
in height from its surface, which was but a little
below her eye, appearing like that of a superincumbent
ocean, gently undulating as the real
ocean heaved underneath. The sun shining upon
it gave it life and beauty, and the vessels, every
where seen sailing through it, seemed half-foundered
yet still moving, all presenting a most singular
appearance. Here was a sail boat so low
buried that its little red penant was visible skipping
along the top of the mist like some living
creature inhabiting this new element; there a

[figure description] Page 004.[end figure description]

ship, visible only to her hull appeared like three
stately masts walking the sea. The islands
seemed to float, and all presented new and strange
forms to the mariner's eye, and forms of grace
and beauty to all.

This beautiful picture lasted but a few minutes.
The wind came in from seaward and soon
this misty ocean heaved and oplifted itself, parted
in vast mssses, opening between vistas to the
land and the sea, and gradually retiring unveiled
islands, fleets, and fortresses, with the far off city
and its hundred towers! Soon the last lingering
cloud-wreath had left the top of the loftiest island,
and what was a short time before reposing
on the sea, the ocean's veil which the fiery sun
had so long striven to lift, was now sailing the
mid sky in troops of fleecy clouds or suspended
in majestic drapery along the horizon.

The scene that the lifting of the misty curtain
presented to the eyes of the voyagers was beautiful
beyond imagination. Green islands adorned
with villas, or crowned with fortresses or smooth
and verdant like a well kept lawn, rose on every
side softening as they receded in the distance and
blended with the blue sky or bluer sea. Before
them a league distant towered the city of Boston,
the stately queen of the fair empire of isle and
ocean, a dome for her coronet, her sceptre a hundred
glittering spires, a sparkling belt of waters
her girdle and her seat a tri-pillard throne.

As our young voyagers approached the metropolis
of New England they seemed to want a hundred
eyes to view the thousand ever changing
objects that continually presented themselves.
The neat snow white castle Independence with
its green glacis and black cannon mounted in the
gaping embrasures; the frowning fortress on the
opposite island; the heights of Dorehester associated
with such stirring revolutionary incidents
on one hand and Bunker Hill with its thrilling
story of deadly struggle on the other, were objects
of deep interest. All that they had read of
Boston and its environs in the history of their native
land now rushed upon their faithful memories,
and to their warm and fresh vision every
scene was living and glowing with the life of the
past. Henry gazed in silence and deep joyful
emotion that at intervals found its vent in an exclamation.
Pierce Wentworth, while he enjoyed
the view, explained to his listening sister every
scene as one after the other they were pointed
out to him by his father. Mr. Harefoot was too
busy shaving and sprucing up, to make a good appearance
in the city before the Boston merchants,
of whom he four times a year bought his goods, to
come on deck to look at the magnificent panorama
through which they were moving, and Henry had
to get his information from the skipper or old
Pearl who very cheerfully and with great pride
pointed out to him the several objects of interest.
Harry might have learned from Mr. Wentworth
if he had chosen; but, let it be mentioned here
that in Augusta there were two castes of society;
regulated by the merchants, lawyers, doctors,
elergymen and idle rich people, of which they
constituted themselves in the first; and mechanies,
captains of vessels and poor useful men in the
second. In the first caste Mr. Harefoot and wife
included themselves, and in the second they placed
Mr. Wentworth because he was a hatter;
though Mr. Wentworth placed himself no where
but in the class of useful citizens and honest men.
In these errors of society children early imitate
their parents; and thus, although the sons of both
gentlemen had for many years been school-mates
they had never been intimate play-mates. When
thrown together they were always civil to each
other, for Pierce had no feeling like that instilled
into Harry's bosom, and Harry was too good-natured
and social to treat any one with rudeness.
On the present passage they had been much
thrown together and dependent on each other for
amusements to pass the time; and this dependence
on Harry's side had thawed much of his
pride of caste. He could not, however, altogether
forget that while he was to be a merchant's
clerk in Boston, Pierce was to learn a trade. The
reflection did not influence his conduct materially
until this morning when their near approach to
their port of destination began to throw Harry
back upon his pride of caste, for he began very
weakly to reflect that it would not become him
to keep up the acquaintance of a mechanic's apprentice
in Boston, and that if he did not wish
to be mortified by such a companion he ought to
begin to show Pierce that he did not intend their
intimacy should last longer than the circumatances
which brought them together. He, therefore,
after dressing himself up in his short waisted olive
with the velvet collar and pantaloons to match,
his sky blue vest, and azure cravat, began to look
juvenile dignity, to love his own society or covet
that of the smart collegian. Pierce discovered
and well understood the cause of his school-fellow's
change of manuer, and while he smiled inwardly
he felt his own moral superiority. Therefore
it was, that, when they approached the city,
Harry preferred asking information from Pason
Pearl to deriving it from a source which might
invade his personal dignity, or give encouragement
to Pierce for further intimacy. This feeling
was the result of erroneous education and belonged
rather to his head than his heart, which
was kindly disposed to all around him; he was
rather the victim than the subject of contempt
which it naturally might create in the minds of
others. While he withdrew from Pierce's companionship
he would have leaped into the water
to save his life or have done him any tree and generous
service of what he stood in need. But to
take his arm and walk in the streets of Boston
with him, he had not moral courage to do it.

As the sloop came up towards the town, the
vast tiers of shipping lining the wharves; the extensive
massive blocks that stretched along them;
the height and extent of the ranges of stores; the
crowded and bustling piers; the huge ships of
war at anchor in the stieam, and the water peopled
with boats clustering in all directions, filled
their minds with wonder and novel pleasure;
while, as they came nearer, the cries and mingled
voices of men, the roar of wheels upon the
paved streets, and the confused noises of a great
sea-port, struck them with awe. It seemed a
new world upon which they had just entered—a
new planet at which they had arrived; and,

[figure description] Page 005.[end figure description]

certainly, the contrast between the quiet, pleasant
river-town they had left three days before, and
the scene around them, could scarce be greater
if they had landed in the moon instead of in Boston
Bay.

Now drew near the scenes and moments of greatest
excitement. The sloop wound her way with lessening
sail to the end of Long wharf and passing
its head steered under her jib, only, between the
constantly moving craft, up the dock and came
close in to an angle of a jutting pier, which, from
its shape is called the T. When within a few
yards of the wharf the jib was hauled down, a
line was thrown ashore by the long arm of Seth
Pinkham and fastened to a ring by an idler on the
pier, and in a few minutes the sloop Aurora was
warped up to her station among the Kennebec
packets. So impatient had Henry been to get
ashore that it was with difficulty he could restrain
himself from leaping on board more than one vessel
lying at the wharves which the sloop grazed
ere she reached her pier. The preparations for
going on shore had all been previously made, and
there was now but little delay as the most impatient
could wish..

`I suppose you will stop a few days in the city,
Mr. Wentworth, and so we shall meet, I dare say,'
said Mr. Harefoot, with a certain high air he always
puts on with his best coat, and wore especially
when in Boston; and the portly merchant
buttoned another button of his coat, settled his
hat and put his foot cautiously on the plank to
leave the vessel.

`Yes I daresay,' said the hatter, dryly.

`Well, good day, sir,' added the merchant,
`good morning, Captain! I will see you to-morrow
at Dana's store, and tell you what freight I
shall want you to take. Let Pearl take Henry's
trunk and mine up to Merriam a Coffee House.
Come Henry.'

Harry needed no urging. He lingered a moment
to shake hands with the skipper, nod at
Pearl, and give him ninepence, smile and how at
Pierce and his sister, and the next moment he
was by his father's side, his head perfectly bewildered
and overrun with the novelty of all he saw;
and the idea that he was to make Boston his residence
filled his bosom with a sortof wild ecstacy,
under the impulse of which he went almost
leaping and bounding up the broken plank side-walk
that was then placed in front of the stores
on Long wharf. To the wharf itself he thought
there would never be an end. Atlength they got
to its termination, rather its beginning at the foot
of State street. Here the beauty and imposing
character of the edifices filled our hero with
amazement. Turning into Kilby street, they at
last reached the Coffee House on the corner of
Milk street, a hotel I in that day much resorted to
by merchants from `Down East.'

Mr. Harefoot, who with parental solicitude had
in vain insisted that Harry should take hold of
his hand in coming through the streets, lest he
should get lost, entered the hotel leading him by
the arm. Seeing the host in the hall he cleared
his throat and putting on his best Boston air, said
in his usually pompous and now hillarious tone,

`Ah, Merriam, how do you do? how do-do?'
and going up to the portly landlord, the convexities
of their respective abdomens just came in contact
as they shook hands, like two huge demijohns
placed together. `Here's my son, sir! My
second son! Speak to him, Henry! This is Mr.
Merriam the landlord! I have brought him up
to put him in a store in Washington street! Do
you know of any vacancies.

`Plenty, plenty,' answered Boniface, with a
good natured look; `well I'm glad to see you.
Come in! Here Mr. Laugley give Major Harefoot
a room with two beds in it.'

`No—no—Henry can sleep with me,' said the
economical merchant, hoping the charge would
thereby be less; when the landlord guessing his
object, said,

`Beds plenty—charge no more! Give 'em No.
forty three. Any baggage, Mr. Harefoot?'

`It will be here soon, a valise and Harry's
trunk,' answered the portly merchant wining the
sweat of his long walk from his face and calling
for a glass of cider.

Before dinner, Pearl had safely delivered his
baggage and received a four-pence ha penny
therefore from Mr. Harefoot who had searched
in vain for a five cent piece to give him and so
save the one and a quarter cents. Harry blushed
at his father's poor remuneration and gave him a
nine-peace out of his three dollars and a quarter,
the only pocket money he had; for this extravagance
his father gave him a serious lecture, which
was broken off only by the dinner bell; and as
Mr. Harefoot loved to eat as well as to give his
children advice, he bade Henry follow him down
to the dining room. In the hall they met a Boston
merchant, an extensive apple speculator who
lodged in bachelor rooms at the `Exchange
Coffee House.' He called to see Mr. Harefoot,
who exported a great many apples from Kennebec
every year, to enter upon the preliminaries for a
cargo, and insisted on himself and his son dining
with him at two o'clock at his hotel.

Mr. Wentworth entworth and his son and daughter went
to a private boarding house in Brattle street,
Pierce carrying his own trunk and Isabel and her
father walking before arm in arm. Now having
placed our characters on the theatre of action we
will leave them for another chapter.