all, playing "shinny
on your own side," and having a fight nearly every day. I hardly
ever went home that I did not have my face all scratched up from
having been in a fight, which innocent amusement I loved much better
than school. When I was hardly ten years of age, I would carry
stones in my pocket and tackle the school teachers if they attempted
to whip me. My father was away from home at his work most of the
time, and my mother (God bless her dear old soul) could not manage
me. She has often called in some passer-by to help her punish me.
I can now see I richly deserved all the punishment I ever received,
and more too. When there was company at our house, and my mother
would be busy preparing a meal, I would get my bow and arrows and
shoot the cups off from the table, and then run away. I guess I
was about the worst boy of my age west of the Allegheny Mountains
that was born of good Christian parents. I have often heard the
good old church members say: "That boy will be hung if he lives
to be twenty years old." But I have fooled them, and am still on
the turf, although I have had some pretty close calls, as you will
see by reading this book.

LEAVING HOME.

In the year 1839, while at the river one day, I saw a steamer lying
at the wharf-boat by the name of _Wacousta_. The first steward
said I could ship as a cabin boy at $4 per month. I thought this
a great opportunity, so when the boat backed out I was on board
without saying anything to my parents or any one else. My first
duty was to scour knives. I knew they would stand no foolishness,
so at it I went, and worked like a little trooper, and by so doing
I gained the good will of the steward. At night I was told to get
a mattress and sleep on the floor of the cabin; this I was very
glad to do, as I was tired.

About four o'clock in the morning the second steward came up to me
and gave me a pretty hard kick in the side that hurt me, and called
out: "Get up here, and put your mattress away." I did get up and
put away my bed, and then I went to the steward who kicked me and
said: "Look here! Don't kick me that way again, for you hurt me."
He let go and hit me a slap in the face that made my ears ring; so
into him I pitched. I was a big boy for only ten years old; but
I struck the wrong man that time, for he hit me another lick in
the nose that came very near sending me to grass, but I rallied
and came again. This time I had a piece of stone