pursued. He did nothing to provoke him. “He,” he thought, “was provoked before I saw him; for I heard his fearful oaths.” He concluded, finally, that he did appear rather green and rough to the captain, for his clothes were countrified and worn; and perhaps he did not know exactly how to present himself to a sea captain, salter, wood-chopper, and farmer, as he was. The more he pondered, the more he found an excuse for the captain, and the less disposed he was to relinquish his purpose to be a sailor.

He ceased to muse, and walked along the wharf, perhaps not exactly satisfied what to do next. He was soon startled, however, by a voice:

“Jim! Jim!”

James turned about; the voice came from a canal boat.

“Halloo, Jim! How came you here?”

It was Amos Letcher, his cousin, who called to him from the canal boat.

“You here, Amos?” exclaimed James; and he was on board the boat in a hurry, shaking hands with his old friend and relative.

“How came you here?” inquired Amos. “The last I knew of you, you was chopping wood.”

“I came over to see if I could find a chance to ship on the Lake,” replied James.

“What luck?”

“Not much, yet.”

“Seen anybody?”

Finally James rehearsed his experience on the schooner, to which Amos listened with a kind of comical interest.

“Hot reception,” remarked Amos, after listening to the recital. “Some of the captains are hard customers, I tell you.”

“Hard!” repeated James; “that is no name for that fellow. I s’pose he is human; he looks like a man, but he is more of a demon.”

“You wouldn’t like to ship with such a brute, would you?” Amos inquired.

“No; I’d rather chop wood.”

“How would you like a canal boat?”

“I don’t know; would it help me to get a place on a ship?”

“It might, some.”

“Another hand wanted on this boat?” James asked.

“Yes, we want another driver.”

“Where’s the captain?”

“I am captain.”