in the local post office I was idling a half hour with the
postmaster, when I again inquired:

"Do you know Charlie Potter?"

"I should think I did. Charlie Potter and I sailed together for
something over eleven years."

"How do you mean sailed together?"

"We were on the same schooner. This used to be a great port for mackerel
and cod. We were wrecked once together"

"How was that?"

"Oh, we went on rocks."

"Any lives lost?"

"No, but there came mighty near being. We helped each other in the boat.
I remember Charlie was the last one in that time. Wouldn't get in until
all the rest were safe."

A sudden resolution came to me.

"Do you know where he is now?"

"Yes, he's up in Norwich, preaching or doing missionary work. He's kind
of busy all the time among the poor people, and so on. Never makes much
of anything out of it for himself, but just likes to do it, I guess."

"Do you know how he manages to live?"

"No, I don't, exactly. He believes in trusting to Providence for what he
needs. He works though, too, at one job and another. He's a carpenter
for one thing. Got an idea the Lord will send 'im whatever he needs."

"Well, and does He?"

"Well, he lives." A little later he added:

"Oh, yes. There's nothing lazy about Charlie. He's a good worker. When
he was in the fishing line here there wasn't a man worked harder than he
did. They can't anybody lay anything like that against him."

"Is he very difficult to talk to?" I asked, meditating on seeking him
out. I had so little to do at the time, the very idlest of summers, and
the reports of this man's deeds were haunting me. I wanted to discover
for myself whether he was real or not--whether the reports were true.
The Samaritan in people is so easily exaggerated at times.

"Oh, no. He's one of the finest men that way I ever knew. You could see
him, well enough, if you went up to Norwich, providing he's up there. He
usually is, though, I think. He lives there with his wife and mother,
you know."

I caught an afternoon boat for New London and Norwich at one-thirty, and
arrived in Norwich at five. The narrow streets of the thriving little
mill city were alive with people. I had no address, could not obtain
one, but through the open door of a news-stall near the boat landing I
called to the proprietor:

"Do you know any one in Norwich by the name of Charlie Potter?"

"The man who works around among the poor people here?"

"That's the man."

"Yes