Having one stormy night of a Saturday, visited the market with my son for this purpose, and after exposing ourselves to the chilling rain until past 10 o’clock, without being able either of us to sell a single match, I advised the youth (being thinly clad) to return home feeling disposed to tarry myself a while longer, in hopes that better success might attend me, as having already fasted one day and night, it was indispensably necessary that I should obtain something to appease our hunger the succeeding day (Sunday) or what seemed almost impossible, to endure longer its torments! I remained until the clock struck eleven, the hour at which the market closed, and yet had met with no better success! It is impossible to describe the sensation of despondency which overwhelmed me at this moment! I now considered it as certain that I must return home with nothing wherewith to satisfy our craving appetites—and with my mind filled with the most heart rending reflections, I was about to return, when, Heaven seemed pleased to interpose in my behalf, and to send relief when I little expected it;—passing a beef stall I attracted the notice of the butcher, who viewing me, probably as I was, a miserable object of pity, emaciated by long fastings, and clad in tattered garments, from which the water was fast dripping, and judging no doubt by my appearance that on no one could charity be more properly bestowed, he threw into my basket a beeve’s heart, with the request that I would depart with it immediately for my home, if any I had!—I will not attempt to describe the joy that I felt on this occasion, in so unexpectedly meeting with that relief, which my situation so much required. I hastened home with a much lighter heart than what I had anticipated; and when I arrived, the sensations of joy exhibited by my little son on viewing the prize that I bore, produced effects as various as extraordinary; he wept, then laughed and danced with transport.
The reader must suppose that while I found it so extremely difficult to earn enough to preserve us from starvation, I had little to spare for cloathing and other necessaries; and that this was really my situation, I think no one will doubt, when I positively declare that to such extremities was I driven, that being unable to pay a barber for shaving me, I was obliged to adopt the expedient for more than two years, of clipping my beard as close as possible with a pair of scissors which I kept expressly for that purpose!—as strange and laughable as the circumstance may appear to some, I assure the reader that I state facts, and exaggerate nothing. As regarded our cloathes, I can say no more than that they were the best that we could procure, and were such as persons in our situations were obliged to wear—they served to conceal our nakedness, but would have proved insufficient to have protected our bodies, from the inclemency of the weather of a colder climate. Such indeed was sometimes our miserable appearance, clad in tattered garments, that while engaged in our employment in crying for old chairs to mend, we not only attracted the notice of many, but there were instances in which a few half pennies unsolicited were bestowed on us in charity—an instance of this kind happened one day as I was passing through threadneedle street; a gentleman perceiving by the appearance of the shoes that I wore, that they were about to quit me, put a half crown in my hand, and bid me go and cry “old shoes to mend!”
In long and gloomy winter evenings, when unable to furnish myself with any other light than that emitted by a little fire of sea coal, I would attempt to drive away melancholy by amusing my son with an account of my native country, and of the many blessings there enjoyed by even the poorest class of people—of their fair fields producing a regular supply of bread—their convenient houses, to which they could repair after the toils of the day, to partake of the fruits of their labour, safe from the storms and the cold, and where they could lay down their heads to rest without any to molest them or to make them afraid. Nothing could have been better calculated to excite animation in the mind of the poor child, than an account so flattering of a country which had given birth to his father, and to which he had received my repeated assurances he should accompany me as soon as an opportunity should present—after expressing his fears that the happy day was yet far distant, with a deep sigh he would exclaim “would to God it was to-morrow!”
About a year after the decease of my wife, I was taken extremely ill, insomuch that at one time my life was despaired of, and had it not been for the friendless and lonely situation in which such an event would have placed my son, I should have welcomed the hour of my dissolution and viewed it as a consummation rather to be wished than dreaded; for so great had been my sufferings of mind and body, and the miseries to which I was still exposed, that life had really become a burden to me—indeed I think it would have been difficult to have found on the face of the earth a being more wretched than I had been for the three years past.
During my illness my only friend on earth was my son Thomas, who did every thing to alleviate my wants within the power of his age to do—sometimes by crying for old chairs to mend (for he had become as expert a workman at this business as his father) and sometimes by sweeping the cause-ways, and by making and selling matches, he succeeded in earning each day a trifle sufficient to procure for me and himself a humble sustenance. When I had so far recovered as to be able to creep abroad, and the youth had been so fortunate as to obtain a good job, I would accompany him, although very feeble, and assist him in conveying the chairs home—it was on such occasions that my dear child would manifest his tenderness and affection for me, by insisting (if there were four chairs) that I should carry but one, and he would carry the remaining three, or in that proportion if a greater or less number.
From the moment that I had informed him of the many blessings enjoyed by my countrymen of every class, I was almost constantly urged by my son to apply to the American Consul for a passage—it was in vain that I represented to him, that if such an application was attended with success and the opportunity should be improved by me, it must cause our separation, perhaps forever; as he would not be permitted to accompany me at the expense of government—“never mind me (he would reply) do not father suffer any more on my account; if you can only succeed in obtaining a passage to a country where you can enjoy the blessings that you have described to me, I may hereafter be so fortunate as to meet with an opportunity to join you—and if not, it will be a consolation to me, whatever my afflictions may be, to think that yours have ceased!” My ardent wish to return to America, was not less than that of my son, but could not bear the thoughts of a separation; of leaving him behind exposed to all the miseries peculiar to the friendless poor of that country;—he was a child of my old age, and from whom I had received too many proofs of his love and regard for me, not to feel that parental affection for him to which his amiable disposition entitled him.
I was indeed unacquainted with the place of residence of the American Consul—I had made frequent enquiries, but found no one that could inform me correctly where he might be found; but so anxious was my son that I should spend the remnant of my days in that country where I should receive (if nothing more) a christian burial at my decease, and bid adieu forever to a land where I had spent so great a portion of my life in sorrow, and many years had endured the lingering tortures of protracted famine; that he ceased not to enquire of everyone with whom he was acquainted, until he obtained the wished for information. Having learned the place of residence of the American Consul, and fearful of the consequences of delay, he would give me no peace until I promised that I would accompany him there the succeeding day, if my strength would admit of it; for although I had partially recovered from a severe fit of sickness, yet I was still so weak and feeble as to be scarcely able to walk.
My son did not forget to remind me early the next morning of my promise, and to gratify him more than with an expectation of meeting with much success I set out with him, feeble as I was, for the Consul’s. The distance was about two miles, and before I had succeeded in reaching half the way, I had wished myself a dozen times safe home again, and had it not been for the strong persuasions of my son to the contrary, I certainly should have returned.—I was never before so sensible of the effects of my long sufferings—which had produced that degree of bodily weakness and debility, as to leave me scarcely strength sufficient to move without the assistance of my son; who, when he found me reeling or halting through weakness, would support me until I had gained sufficient strength to proceed.
Although the distance was but two miles, yet such was the state of my weakness, that although we started early in the morning, it was half past 3 o’clock P.M. when we reached the Consul’s office, when I was so much exhausted as to be obliged to ascend the steps on my hands and knees. Fortunately we found the Consul in, and on my addressing him and acquainting him with the object of my visit, he seemed at first unwilling to credit the fact that I was an American born—but after interrogating me sometime, as to the place of my nativity, the cause which first brought me to England, &c. he seemed to be more satisfied; he however observed (on being informed that the lad who accompanied me was my son) that he could procure a passage for me, but not for him, as being born in England, the American government would consider him a British subject, and under no obligation to defray the expence of his passage—and as regarded myself, he observed, that he had his doubts, so aged and infirm as I appeared to be, whether I should live to reach America, if I should attempt it.
I cannot say that I was much surprised at the observations of the Consul, as they exactly agreed with what I had anticipated—and as anxious as I then felt to visit once more my native country, I felt determined not to attempt it, unless I could be accompanied by my son, and expressed myself to this effect to the Consul—the poor lad appeared nearly overcome with grief when he saw me preparing to return without being able to effect my object; indeed so greatly was he affected, and such the sorrow that he exhibited, that he attracted the notice (and I believe I may add the pity) of the Consul—who, after making some few enquiries as regarded his disposition, age, &c. observed that he could furnish the lad with a passage at his own expense, which he should have no objection to do if I would consent to his living with a connection of his (the Consul,) on his arrival in America—“but (continued he,) in such a case you must be a while separated, for it would be imprudent for you to attempt the passage until you have gained more strength—I will pay your board, where by better living than you have been latterly accustomed to, you may have a chance to recruit—but your son must take passage on board the London Packet, which sails for Boston the day after to-morrow.”