Accordingly, we went to Hartford and took the night steamer, on the Connecticut River, for New York. While waiting for the boat in Hartford we all went out to get shaved and I remember it, for it was my first shave.
The barber must have been a funny fellow, of the Abe Lincoln type, who looked serious when he said and did funny things. He was not sparing of his lather, for my ears held quite a lot, but I bore it bravely until he grabbed me right by the nose to begin, which made me burst out laughing and let the lather run into my mouth. When I sobered down he would seize me by the nose and begin again, which would make my friends and the other barbers all laugh. I laughed a little myself, but he never smiled—just watched for his chance to seize me. When he got through, without a smile, he said he never charged boys anything for the first shave.
On the steamer, of which the cabins seemed to me as dazzling, beautiful and wonderful as the constellation of Orion does now, the cabin porter got our cow-hide boots, while we were asleep, and shined them and then demanded ten cents for each boot, but we compromised on ten cents for the whole lot, and threatened to throw him overboard at that.
When we landed at Peck Slip, New York, we at once inquired for the office where sailors were enlisted for three-year voyages catching whales.
The agent was a man probably seventy years old and began inquiring our names and where we were from, and then he said he knew about Square Pond, as he once drove stage right along its shore on the old route from Hartford to Boston. Then he said: "Sit down, boys," and he talked to us to this effect:
"Now, boys, you do not want to enlist for a three years' voyage. If you have got the fishing fever I can get you all a chance on a smack for three months, off the coast of Newfoundland, catching codfish. Then if you are not sick of the job you can go whaling." We listened to him kindly and finally gave up, not only the whaling, but the fishing altogether.
We then began canvassing the book stores for a book which Lyman had heard about, which boys ought not to read, and that was why he wanted it. The title was "Fanny Hill," and when we inquired at the book stores we were turned down, until we struck a Yankee who sold second-hand books, who inquired where we were from, and when our boat would leave New York, and then said he hardly dare sell it to us for fear he would be arrested.
BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, WORTHY MEN, CHARMING OLD WABBAQUASSETT.
CENTRAL LOWER LADY FIGURE, JULIA NEWELL WARNER, MY LIFE-LONG ESTEEMED FRIEND.