"A poor, green factory boy."
"Who is trying to do his duty, and sometimes asks God to help him; who is wide awake and ambitious; who has got a pretty good head and not a very bad heart; who will push his way in the world and be somebody?"
"I don't know about all that."
"Nor I, but I know some things about you—more than you dream of, I guess."
Samuel colored again, and tried to stammer out something, but succeeded only tolerably well.
"You want something to do, don't you?" the old man asked.
"Yes, sir," said the peddler's boy, "that is what I came to Boston for."
"Well, let me think a moment," said the good old gentleman. He did think a moment, and then he put on his hat, and got the gold-headed cane which he cut on the island of Malta, where Paul was cast away, and off he posted with his young friend. He knew what he was about. He had not been thinking for nothing. After walking some ten or fifteen minutes, he went into a store on Commercial wharf, and asked one of the partners of the house, whom he seemed to know very well, if they did not want a clerk. The answer was that they did not need another clerk, but that they were very much in want of a good porter.
"Well, here's the chap," said the captain, pointing to Samuel. "Sam, what do you say to that?"
Samuel was inclined to try the business, and in less than half an hour, the terms were arranged, and the young lad was at work.