JOHN WILLIAMS, OR THE SAILOR BOY.

BOSTON, BOWLES AND DEARBORN, 72 WASHINGTON STREET.

Isaac R. Butts & Co. Printers. 1827.

DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to wit:

District Clerk’s Office.

Be it remembered, that on the twenty-third day of March, A. D. 1827, in the fifty-first year of the Independence of the United States of America, Bowles & Dearborn of the said district, have deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as proprietors, in the words following, to wit:

“John Williams, or the Sailor Boy.

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, “An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned;” and also to an act entitled “An act supplementary to an act, entitled, an act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned; and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving and etching historical and other prints.”

JNO. W. DAVIS, } Clerk of the District } of Massachusetts.

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JOHN WILLIAMS, OR THE SAILOR BOY.

It was a severely cold morning in January, which succeeded a heavy fall of snow through the night, five winters ago, that I remarked from my parlour window, a child lingering round the gateway; he was apparently ten or eleven years of age, and miserably clad in tattered garments, that seemed ill calculated to exclude the cold.

I beckoned him from the window to come in, but the moment he perceived me he shrunk aside, and directly ran away.

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The circumstance soon passed from my mind, and I thought no more of the boy till the following day, when I saw him again by the gate.

I directly sent a domestic to bring him into the kitchen, but before he could effect his errand the child had fled.

This conduct appeared unaccountable, and the more so, when I learnt from my man James, that he had seen the same boy almost daily during the fortnight past about the same hour.

I directed him to watch the succeeding day, and by all means to detain him; his appearance being altogether so wretched and destitute, that I could not feel easy till something was done for its alleviation.

The third morning James succeeded in stopping him, and with much difficulty brought him into the house, and[5_63] was leading him to the fire, when he found that one of his feet was frozen, and his hands quite chilled. Proper restoratives were immediately applied, which soon had a good effect; yet it was long before the gentlest persuasions could induce him to speak. We gave him food, which he ate greedily, and asked for more. After some hours, when he had been left to sit quietly, he appeared to gain confidence, or rather to be restored to feeling. I asked his name, to which he replied, “John Williams, ma’am.”

“And where is your home?”

“I haven’t got any.”

“Where did you last come from?”

“The glass-house.”

“But you could not live there.”

“No, I only hid myself when I could, behind the boxes, and warmed me when the men were not about the furnaces.”

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“And where did you get your food?”

“I went without when I could not beg any thing to eat.”

“Have you any parents?”

“No, they both died in the Almshouse, and I was put there with them for a time, but I got away.”

“And why did you run away? you were clothed, warmed, and fed there, as well as properly employed, no doubt.”

“I did not like it though: I did not like to learn: I did not like any body there. Before mother died she used to scold and beat me; and after that I did not care to mind any body; I don’t want to work there.”

“And will you work any where if you can get employment?”

“I don’t know; I want to go off in a ship.”

“But you are too young now, and you should first learn something; are you[7_65] not willing to learn reading and writing?”

“Perhaps I should like it if that would help me to go to sea.”

“Have you no relations now your parents are dead, who can help to take care of you till you are older?”

“I don’t know any: I don’t want to be put under any body’s care: I want to do as I please, and have enough to eat.”

“That you cannot expect while you choose to run about the streets in this way;—where have you slept these few nights past?”

“In your wood-house, on an old blanket which covers a box; I crept under the things and tried to keep warm, for I did not dare to go any more to the glass-house, for the man threatened to beat me if he saw me about there again.”

I found from the few facts thus related[8_66] by poor John, that he was much to be pitied for the forlorn state into which he was cast, and for his utter ignorance, and determined to ride over and inquire of the overseer of the Almshouse, something more particular concerning him. His appearance was that of a child who had been exposed to evil company and bad example; and I hoped as he was so very young, something might be done to eradicate the seeds of wickedness thus early sown in his heart, and in their place cultivate virtuous and religious principles.

I therefore hastened to leave home, giving directions that he should be detained till my return.

I was not long in reaching that place which has witnessed so much misery, but where so great good has also been done, the Almshouse in Leveret street, (since pulled down). Mr. P*****, the[9_67] overseer gave me all the information I sought, briefly, in the following words;

“The boy of whom you inquire, has run away, and been returned to us a great many times, and has been the cause of much trouble here. His parents were once what the world calls likely people; I knew them when they were both well off, and industrious; but they lived without either the fear or the love of God before their eyes, and so they fell into temptation, and from that into vice.

“It is about two years ago, that John Williams, the father of this poor miserable child, left his occupation on a wood wharf, and engaged in a distillery, one of those manufactories of slow poison for thousands of wretches who eagerly buy, drink, and perish, after laying the foundation, and too often effecting the ruin of their families.—John[10_68] Williams, as I say, engaged in a distillery, where the custom of tasting a little, and then a little more, gradually grew into a longing desire to taste much and often. In a few months he rendered himself, as others had done before him, useless to his employer, and worse than useless to his family. He was turned away and gave himself wholly up to idleness and drink. He neglected to provide for his wife and child, and at home did nothing but quarrel, and vent the ill humour he acquired abroad; and miserable to relate, in less than a year his wife became as useless and sinful as he. Their once quiet home was now the scene of perpetual strife and discord; mutual dislike succeeded to mutual reproach, and the unfortunate little

John had the example of both parents to initiate him in those early lessons of vice;—and deeply have the seeds of[11_69] corruption been sown in his young heart. These beings had never studied their Bible; they had never sought that holiness, which fortifies against vice; they had first lived merely moral lives, and when the hour of temptation came, they possessed not that grace which alone can withstand its allurements or retreat from its wiles. Alas! they did not reflect that God is angry with the wicked every day; that they who sow in wickedness shall reap the same.

“One by one, this wretched family disposed of the articles of their household comforts for the miserable pittance of a dram. When all was gone, nothing remained for them but beggary, and the child was sent abroad to solicit charity, and beaten if he came back empty handed. The want of success, which sometimes attended his excursions,[12_70] and the fear of punishment at home, drove him to theft;[A] in fine, matters came to such a pass, that they were all sent here for reformation, but that was not so easily to be effected.

[A] A fact—and we fear one of not rare occurrence.

“They were lost to every feeling of shame, and religion had never influenced them. John had ruined his naturally strong and healthy constitution by his intemperance, and was fast sinking into the grave; his lost situation had no effect on his wife, except to increase her ill feelings. John died about three months since, and his wife four weeks after him, having cut short their lives by their sins, which, if properly spent, might have witnessed them in the enjoyment of a virtuous old age, blessed, perhaps, by the pious and filial cares of their only son. But now all is past, and the end of their doings has returned upon them.

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“And this child who has been wandering round the streets, has he any good dispositions by which one might hope to make an honest man of him?”

“Not any that I could ever find out; the works of his hands were here evil continually; he was doing mischief unless closely watched from morning till night, and no punishment made him better; if you choose to take him off our hands we shall be glad to give him up to you, for here I do not see that there is any hope of amending him; he is young to be sure, only ten years old now, so perhaps he can be made something of; and if he can, why society may one day have an honest member more than I now fear it will.”

After a little consideration, I made up my mind, that unless some effectual means were immediately adopted, this poor orphan boy might come to a disgraceful[14_72] death, and that it was my duty to do all that could be done to avert such an evil. Accordingly I gave my obligation to take the direction of him for one year, thinking that less time would not be giving him a fair trial, nor should we be likely to witness a change, unless it was wrought within that period.

On my return home, I found he had been silent, and quiet in one place, watching with curiosity the various employments of the domestics. I asked him if he would like to live in my family and learn to help James.

He did not answer for some time, and then he said he did not like to work. I asked him if he had ever tried to do any thing. Not much, he replied, they made me do a little at the Almshouse, but my task was more than the other boys, and so I would not[15_73] do any thing if I could help it, and ran away whenever I could get a chance.

“But are you not willing, if I give you clothes, and food, and a comfortable bed to sleep on, to bring the bark and wood to make my fire of in the parlour, and sometimes go of errands for me?”

“I will, perhaps, if you do not beat me for every thing.”

“I hope you will behave well, and then you will not need punishment. You can do nothing till your frozen foot is healed; so I wish you to observe all that James does, and see if there is nothing you can do for him when you are well.”

With this proposal John seemed satisfied, and I left him to make some purchases for his more comfortable clothing.

I felt that great care was necessary,[16_74] in order to reclaim him, and resolved to proceed with caution.

In a week he could walk about, and appeared favourably impressed with the kind treatment which he constantly received. He attached himself to James, who was a religious, orderly man, and helped him whenever he could find opportunity for so doing.

It was not long before he found a pleasure in work, and executed my little errands faithfully. I gave him short lessons daily, in the form of advice and counsel, and was happy to find him become attracted by the Bible lessons, which James read after the day’s work was ended. At prayers, too, he had learnt to fix his mind on what was passing, and it seemed he took great pleasure when the morning hymn was sung.

It was now time that he should learn[17_75] to read, and I thought a school would be the best place for him. There lived in our neighbourhood a worthy man who kept several boys of this class, a few hours daily; and as I knew John had as yet no fondness himself for books, I did not wish to disgust him entirely, by sending him all day to the public school.

Mr. Brown, the master, heard John’s story with interest, and promised to exert his influence in teaching him whatever might be most important for him to learn.

When John heard that he was to go to school, he did not appear much pleased; he had been willing to work about the house, but the idea of books and a school, had the appearance of toil to him. At last his gratitude towards me prevailed; he was conscious that I had already done much for his[18_76] good, and would not send him to a master, if it were not for his advantage.

He still wished to go to sea; and I had promised him that if he learnt well and was a good boy, he should go in two or three years.

I was pleased to see that his early habits of theft and wickedness were gradually yielding to the influence of steady kindness and discipline. It was at this period that I thought direct religious instruction could be given with success. That a child of his age should suddenly reform, could not be expected in the course of things; but the great mercy of God could now impress him, and he began to pray himself, in language which I had taught him. First shame and then gratitude operated to subdue his sinful habits; and this state of mind, I felt, would be followed by better and higher motives.

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Mr. Brown sent me word when John had been with him three months, that he was learning very fast, and that he had never caught him in an untruth; he also said that his honesty was genuine and sincere, as the following anecdote will prove.—Mr. Brown lost, as he thought, somewhere in, or about the school-room, a dollar bill. The boys looked for it a long time without finding it, and the search was given up as fruitless. After many days John, who knew well the value of the money, had the good fortune to find it, as he was sweeping the room in his turn, among some waste papers, which had been thrown from his master’s desk. No one was with him; and he looked at the bill with a wish, as he afterwards owned, to keep it, and tell no one that it was found. He might have done this with security, for the bill had been[20_78] totally given up as lost, and would never again have been inquired for. As he stood with it in his hand, he all at once remembered the commandment which he that very week had learnt, and said to me, “Thou shalt not steal;” and his

conscience told him it would be in one sort stealing, if he kept what he had found, when he knew to whom it had belonged.

His master too, had read that very morning from the scriptures, a lesson which now came in aid of his better feelings—“If we sin wilfully after that we have knowledge, then is there no more pardon for sins,”—“but a fearful looking for of punishment.” He remembered that he had been told that God loved all who tried to subdue their bad propensities, and become good and honest. He knew that God was angry with the wicked, and that they[21_79] would not go to him, and be happy when they died, if they did not repent. He knew too, that God was pleased when any sinful thoughts of the heart were driven out.

Just then one of his school fellows came back after a book. Moses Wild was not a good boy, and when he saw the money, and heard John say he should carry it to Mr. Brown as soon as he had done his work, he told him he was a fool for his pains; that if the bill was in his hands, he should keep it, and buy nuts, and oranges, and cake with it. But John’s mind was now fixed; he positively said the money should go to his master; and Moses, finding that his evil counsel was unheeded, walked off sneering at what he called John’s religious scruples, and disappointed that he had not been able to get the victory and share the spoil.

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Now it happened that Mr. Brown had heard all that passed from an adjoining room, where he was writing; John very soon finished his task, and then went to seek his master. He returned the bill, and a gleam of joy thrilled through his heart, when he was commended for his good deeds and the practice he had already made upon the lessons of piety which were given him at school, and those which he also received at home. And happier yet was he when he was told his mistress should be informed of his trustworthy and good behaviour.

That night John attended prayers with more earnestness, and repeated his own lesson with more seriousness, than had been remarked for a long time. He went on day by day making himself more useful and active about the house, and at school doing his best to get forward in his learning.

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He could now read fluently, and spent all his leisure in reading those good little books for children, of which there are so many. He tried to imitate James his fellow-servant, in all his good habits, and at the end of two years, one would never have recognised the half starved and wicked Almshouse Orphan.

John was twelve years old; he could read, write, and cypher well, very well, for the time he had been learning, and though he felt attached to my family by gratitude and affection, he still retained a strong desire to go to sea. I told him, as he one day respectfully reminded me of my promise to let him go, that a child like him could know little of the hardships of a seafaring life, but that I had heard of a good Captain, under whose care I would put him to serve as a cabin boy for six months, and[24_82] at that time he should return to my family if he found his way of life too hard. The tears rolled down his cheeks as he thanked me, and promised to do as well as he could. I sent for Captain Munson, who agreed to take John, and desired that he might be ready to sail for South America, in a week.

He was young, he said, as he looked at the boy, but stout, and appeared as if he might perform a cabin boy’s duty.

John, when told he was to go in a week, appeared to feel that it would be more difficult to leave the family and his fellow-servants than he had hitherto thought it would be.

He made himself perpetually busy, early and late; any little thing which he could find to do for any one was carefully performed. He discovered some ingenuity in mending locks and[25_83] hinges, and other little things, which in a house, are often getting out of order. Every room was looked into; if perchance a nail might be loosened, the putty falling from a pane of glass or a button off—in truth, there was nothing of this sort which escaped his care.

The week soon passed away,—his sea clothes were all made, and sent on board the vessel. John went to take leave of his faithful teacher, Mr. Brown, who gave him several good books and his blessing at parting.

He appeared to delay leaving us till the last hour. It was a fine day, the wind was fair, and all things prosperous, when a summons came for him to go on board. I will not attempt to describe his parting; he had interested every member of the household during the time he had been among them, and[26_84] now that he was going away, all felt the interest increased.

I gave him his Bible after my last advice, with the injunction to read it daily, and to let nothing deter him from the faithful performance of his religious duties. He promised with tears that he would do as I desired, and try never to forget that great Being who had mercifully reclaimed his soul from sin, and early depravity.

He went from us with a heavier heart than he had expected, but the novelty of his situation soon engaged him, and he was not suffered to remain idle while all were busy around him.

Some months elapsed, and the vessel which sailed with John was expected daily into port. We were impatient to learn how he had conducted himself, and whether he had been happy and serviceable to his master.

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