During the winter, on half holidays, and at every leisure moment, John Rhines was to be found at the blacksmith’s shop. At length he could contain himself no longer, but went to his father and asked permission to learn the blacksmith’s trade of Peter. John anticipated a hard struggle in obtaining his father’s consent, if indeed he obtained it at all, as there was a large farm to take care of, plenty to do at home, and enough to do with. But Captain Rhines, who had always said, if a boy would only work steadily, his own inclinations should be consulted in choice of occupation, was so rejoiced to find he didn’t want to go to sea, of which he had always been apprehensive, that he yielded the point at once.
“It is a good trade, John,” said he, “and always will be; but I wouldn’t think of learning a trade of Peter.”
“Why not, father?”
“Because he’s no workman; he’s just a botcher.”
“Who shall I learn of?”
“I’ll tell you, my son; go to Portland and learn to do ship-work; there’s money in that; ship-building is going to be the great business along shore for many a year to come. You’ll make more money forging fishermen’s anchors, or doing the iron-work of a vessel, in one season, than you would mending carts, shoeing old horses and oxen, making axes, pitchforks, and chains in three years. My old friend, Captain Starrett, has a brother who is a capital workman, a finished mechanic, learned his trade in the old country—and his wife is a first-rate woman; she went from this town. I’ll get you a chance there.”
Captain Rhines went to Portland in the course of the winter, and secured an opportunity for John to begin to work the first of May.