The Life and Remarkable Adventures of

  ISRAEL R. POTTER

  [Illustration: “OLD CHAIRS TO MEND.”]

  ISRAEL R. POTTER

  _The autobiography of America’s first tragic hero--the
  basis of Herman Melville’s famous novel_

  _Introduction by Leonard Kriegel_

  [Illustration: The American Experience Series]

  CORINTH AE 16      $1.25




                                                     LIFE AND REMARKABLE
                                          ADVENTURES OF ISRAEL R. POTTER


“Shortly after his return in infirm old age to his native land, a
little narrative of his adventures, forlornly published on sleazy gray
paper, appeared among the peddlers, written, probably not by himself,
but taken down from his lips by another. But like the crutch-marks of
the cripple by the Beautiful Gate, this blurred record is now out of
print.”

So Herman Melville, on June 17th, 1854, described this original volume
in the Dedication (_To His Highness, The Bunker Hill Monument_) of
his fictionalized version of Potter’s autobiography.

The present edition is a faithful republication of Potter’s own story,
reset from the Henry Trumbull printing in 1824. The reproduction of the
original title page and frontispiece illustration are from a copy in
the New York Public Library and used with their kind permission. Also
reproduced is the title page and frontispiece illustration of the J.
Howard printing in the same year.

In an Appendix, the final chapters of Herman Melville’s _Israel
Potter_ have been reproduced from the 1855 first edition printing.




  LIFE
  and
  REMARKABLE ADVENTURES
  of
  ISRAEL R. POTTER

  _Introduction by Leonard Kriegel_

  [Illustration: The American Experience Series]

  CONSULTING EDITOR: HENRY BAMFORD PARKES

  CORINTH BOOKS
  NEW YORK




  LEONARD KRIEGEL is an Instructor of English at The
  City College of New York. He has edited a book on the
  political philosophy of the Founding Fathers which is soon
  to be published and has written a number of stories and
  articles.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card No. 62-10046


  Copyright © 1962 Corinth Books, Inc.

  THE AMERICAN EXPERIENCE SERIES

  Published by Corinth Books Inc.
  32 West Eighth Street, New York 11, N. Y.

  Distributed by The Citadel Press
  222 Park Avenue South, New York 3, N. Y.

  _Printed in the U.S.A._

  NOBLE OFFSET PRINTERS, INC.
  NEW YORK 3, N. Y.




INTRODUCTION


_The Life and Remarkable Adventures of Israel Potter_ has been
read, when it has been read at all, in the same way as college
sophomores studying Shakespeare read _Plutarch’s Lives_, not
for the moral homilies of a great biographer but rather as notes for
the study of _Julius Caesar_ or _Antony and Cleopatra_. In
the case of Israel Potter’s _Life_, however, such an approach
can at least be partially justified, since its primary significance
remains as a source for Herman Melville’s “Revolutionary narrative
of a beggar.” That Melville was unable to mold the source to fit his
artistic conception becomes readily apparent when we read these memoirs
for ourselves and then turn to his novel. Only after making such a
comparison does one realize the truth of F. O. Matthiessen’s assertion
that for Melville, by the time he wrote _Israel Potter_, tragedy
“had become so real that it could not be written.” But despite his
artistic failure, Melville’s choice of subject remains interesting,
both for what it tells us about Melville’s deepening sense of despair
and for what it tells us about individualism and democracy. For in
these ghostwritten memoirs, a pensioner’s plea to the government
by “one of the few survivors who fought and bled for American
Independence,” Melville caught a striking reflection of his own state
of mind. The real Israel Potter, like Melville’s “Revolutionary
beggar,” was another name added to the long list of the world’s
victims. And it is as a victim that this “plebian Lear” speaks to us,
too.

Not only is Israel a victim, he is--and for Melville’s purposes this
was most significant--an American victim. It is this quality, this
peculiarly “frontier” attempt to reconcile the promise of life with the
actualities of existence, that stamps the real Israel Potter. Somehow,
for the American, life is never as good, as ennobling, or as fulfilling
as he feels it was meant to be. For against his dream of selfhood
the American is forced to measure the accidental evil of existence
itself. It was as such a gauge that Melville attempted to make use of
this short _Life_ of an insignificant “native of Cranston, Rhode
Island.” Despite his artistic failure, his instinct was undoubtedly
sound. For Israel Potter is not merely another good man adrift in a
world devoid of goodness: he is, above all, an American, whose ideals
and aims are derived from that same self-reliant democratic ethos which
Whitman and Emerson were later to celebrate. Hired laborer, farmer,
chain bearer, hunter, trapper, Indian trader, merchant sailor, whaler,
soldier, courier, spy, carpenter, and beggar, through it all, Israel
remains the American, the man who, even in the hardships of exile,
insists that all will be well once he can again walk “on American
ground.”

As it proved to be with so many of his countrymen, success was Israel’s
failure. He returned, in May, 1823, after an absence of 48 years, to an
America that was already far different from the country he remembered
leaving at the age of 31. He had grown older and now he looked back;
America, too, had grown older, but now it looked forward. Israel had
come home to die; America was far too busy in the conquest of itself
to give death anything more than the platitudinous comfort of words.
Israel petitioned the government for a pension; but the government was
now stable, a government of laws and not of men, and so his petition
was rejected. After his long exile Israel had come to understand that
there were boundaries to any existence; American optimism made even the
recognition of such boundaries an impossibility.

Melville, to his credit, saw all of this. That he was not able to
integrate such insights into the novel that evolved from these memoirs
is not overly important; one year after the publication of _Israel
Potter_, he quit work on his uncompleted philosophical novel, _The
Confidence Man_, which, despite its manifold faults, must be read
as a savage indictment of the shallow humanitarianism against which
the real Israel Potter proved to be so helpless. It was in this novel
that Melville provided his nihilistic answer to the fragile, confused
optimism with which Israel attempted to confront living.

The differences between what Melville saw in Israel’s life and
what Israel himself saw are interesting enough: for Melville, who
saw the truth so intensely that he found himself unable to commit
his perceptions to paper, Israel’s life was further proof of man’s
insignificance in a universe whose order remains completely beyond
his comprehension; but Israel, who is neither what Madison Avenue or
Socrates calls a “thinking man,” constantly confuses the _what is_
of life with the _what ought to be_. One sees the limitations of
Israel’s perception in his attitude towards Benjamin Franklin; Israel
praises Franklin as “that great and good man,” the living embodiment
of all that the American dream promises. For Melville, on the other
hand, Franklin is not the embodiment but the decay of that dream, the
sophisticated but soulless statesman who is damned as “everything
but a poet.” The real Israel dismisses Franklin in two pages, but
Melville cannot dismiss him for six chapters. “It’s wisdom that’s
cheap, and it’s fortune that’s dear,” Melville has his Israel say
as he disgustedly slams down a copy of _Poor Richard_. But the
real Israel was a believer in wisdom; wisdom, along with goodness and
self-reliance and Christianity, was the way to fortune. And it is
because of this lack of perception that his own story is a far truer
portrayal of the mystique of victimization than is Melville’s novel.
Israel consistently does the admirable thing at the right time, only to
see himself mocked by circumstance or fate or whatever label we choose
to give to the quiet terror that life so frequently breeds.

Perhaps it was also his limited perception that enabled Israel to
devote almost half these memoirs to his years of exile; he records his
sufferings in detail, a record that was so painful to Melville that he
could do no more than hurriedly outline it in a few short, concluding
chapters. One can scarcely see what other choice Melville could have
made--such intense and unalleviated suffering can easily make of its
victim a mock-epic buffoon. In his own story, Israel manages to avoid
this fate, but only because he does not fully understand what is
happening to him. Melville saw the truth; because it was so painful,
however, he found himself unable to write it.

_The Life and Remarkable Adventures of Israel Potter_ was
published in Providence in 1824, one year after Israel “succeeded in
the (79th year of his age) in obtaining a passage to his native country
after an absence of 48 years.” This small book, written and published
by Henry Trumbull, a Providence, Rhode Island printer, did not help him
achieve his objective: his quest for a pension proved unsuccessful,
and he died soon after, on “the same day,” Melville tells us, “that
the oldest oak in his native hills was blown down.” He took with him
whatever was left of his dream and his pride, an end which, to some
extent, all victims share. “Kings as clowns,” Melville wrote bitterly,
“are codgers--who ain’t a nobody?” It is a fitting epitaph for all the
Israel Potters.

          LEONARD KRIEGEL
  _The City College of New York_




[Illustration: “_OLD CHAIRS TO MEND_”

ISRAEL R. POTTER,

Born in Cranston (Rhode Island) August 1st, 1744.]




  LIFE

  AND

  REMARKABLE ADVENTURES

  OF

  ISRAEL R. POTTER,

  (A NATIVE OF CRANSTON, RHODE-ISLAND,)

  WHO WAS A SOLDIER IN THE

  AMERICAN REVOLUTION,

  And took a distinguished part in the Battle of Bunker Hill (in
  which he received three wounds,) after which he was taken Prisoner
  by the British, conveyed to England, where for 30 years he obtained
  a livelihood for himself and family, by crying “_Old Chairs to
  Mend_,” through the Streets of London.--In May last, by the
  assistance of the American Consul, he succeeded (in the 79th year
  of his age) in obtaining a passage to his native country, after an
  absence of 48 years.

  PROVIDENCE:
  Printed by J. Howard, for I. R. Potter--1824.
  (Price 31 Cents.)




[Illustration:

“OLD CHAIRS TO MEND”

ISRAEL R. POTTER

_Born in Cranston R.I. August 1^{st}. 1744._]




  LIFE

  AND

  REMARKABLE ADVENTURES

  OF

  ISRAEL R. POTTER,

  (A NATIVE OF CRANSTON, RHODE-ISLAND.)

  WHO WAS A SOLDIER IN THE

  AMERICAN REVOLUTION,

  And took a distinguished part in the Battle of Bunker Hill (in
  which he received three wounds,) after which he was taken Prisoner
  by the British, conveyed to England, where for 30 years he obtained
  a livelihood for himself and family, by crying “_Old Chairs to
  Mend_” through the Streets of London.--In May last, by the
  assistance of the American Consul, he succeeded (in the 79th year
  of his age) in obtaining a passage to his native country, after an
  absence of 48 years.

  PROVIDENCE:
  Printed by Henry Trumbull--1824.
  (Price 28 Cents.)




PREFACE.


In the foregoing pages we have attempted a simple narrative of the life
and extraordinary adventures of one of the few survivors who fought
and bled for American Independence. There is not probably another
now living who took an equally active part in the Revolutionary war,
whose life has been marked with more extraordinary events, and who has
drank deeper of the cup of adversity, than the aged veteran with whose
History we now beg liberty to present the American public. Doomed by
the fate of War to be early separated from kindred and friends, and to
be conveyed by a foreign foe a prisoner of war from his native land,
to a far distant country, where after having for 48 years experienced
almost every hardship and deprivation of which adverse fortune is
productive, providence appears at length to have so far interfered
in his behalf, as to provide means whereby he has been enabled at an
advanced age once more to visit and inhale the pure air of his native
land. At the age of Seventy-Nine, an age in which it cannot be expected
that the lamp of human life can long remain unextinguished, he has
arrived among us, in a state of penury and want, to seek in common with
his countrymen the enjoyment of a few of the blessings produced by
American valour, in her memorable conflict with the mother country and
in which he took a distinguished part.

As it yet remains doubtful whether (in consequence of his long absence)
he will be so fortunate as to be included in that number to whom
Government has granted pensions for their Revolutionary services, it is
to obtain if possible a humble pittance as a remuneration, in part, for
the unprecedented privations and sufferings of which he has been the
unfortunate subject, that he is now induced to present the public with
the following concise and simple narration of the most extraordinary
incidents of his life.




LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ISRAEL R. POTTER,


I was born of reputable parents in the town of Cranston, State of Rhode
Island, August 1st, 1744.--I continued with my parents there in the
full enjoyment of parental affection and indulgence, until I arrived at
the age of 18, when, having formed an acquaintance with the daughter
of a Mr. Richard Gardner, a near neighbour, for whom (in the opinion
of my friends) entertaining too great a degree of partiality, I was
reprimanded and threatened by them with more severe punishment, if my
visits were not discontinued. Disappointed in my intentions of forming
an union (when of suitable age) with one whom I really loved, I deemed
the conduct of my parents in this respect unreasonable and oppressive,
and formed the determination to leave them, for the purpose of seeking
another home and other friends.

It was on Sunday, while the family were at meeting, that I packed up
as many articles of my cloathing as could be contained in a pocket
handkerchief, which, with a small quantity of provision, I conveyed to
and secreted in a piece of woods in the rear of my father’s house; I
then returned and continued in the house until about 9 in the evening,
when with the pretence of retiring to bed, I passed into a back room
and from thence out of a back door and hastened to the spot where I
had deposited my cloathes, &c.--it was a warm summer’s night, and that
I might be enabled to travel with the more facility the succeeding
day, I lay down at the foot of a tree and reposed myself until about
4 in the morning when I arose and commenced my journey, travelling
westward, with an intention of reaching if possible the new countries,
which I had heard highly spoken of as affording excellent prospects
for industrious and enterprising young men--to evade the pursuit of my
friends, by whom I knew I should be early missed and diligently sought
for, I confined my travel to the woods and shunned the public roads,
until I had reached the distance of about 12 miles from my father’s
house.

At noon the succeeding day I reached Hartford, in Connecticut, and
applied to a farmer in that town for work, and for whom I agreed to
labour for one month for the sum of six dollars. Having completed
my month’s work to the satisfaction of my employer, I received my
money and started from Hartford for Otter Creek; but, when I reached
Springfield, I met with a man bound to the Cahos country, and who
offered me four dollars to accompany him, of which offer I accepted,
and the next morning we left Springfield and in a canoe ascended
Connecticut river, and in about two weeks after much hard labour in
paddling and poling the boat against the current, we reached Lebanon
(N. H.), the place of our destination. It was with some difficulty and
not until I had procured a writ, by the assistance of a respectable
innkeeper in Lebanon, by the name of Hill, that I obtained from my last
employer the four dollars which he had agreed to pay me for my services.

From Lebanon I crossed the river to New-Hartford (then N. Y.) where
I bargained with a Mr. Brink of that town for 200 acres of new land,
lying in New Hampshire, and for which I was to labour for him four
months. As this may appear to some a small consideration for so great
a number of acres of land, it may be well here to acquaint the reader
with the situation of the country in that quarter, at that early
period of its settlement--which was an almost impenetrable wilderness,
containing but few civilized inhabitants, far distantly situated from
each other and from any considerable settlement; and whose temporary
habitations with a few exceptions were constructed of logs in their
natural state--the woods abounded with wild beasts of almost every
description peculiar to this country, nor were the few inhabitants at
that time free from serious apprehension of being at some unguarded
moment suddenly attacked and destroyed, or conveyed into captivity by
the savages, who from the commencement of the French war, had improved
every favourable opportunity to cut off the defenceless inhabitants of
the frontier towns.

After the expiration of my four months labour the person who had
promised me a deed of 200 acres of land therefor, having refused to
fulfill his engagements, I was obliged to engage with a party of his
Majesty’s Surveyors at fifteen shillings per month, as an assistant
chain bearer, to survey the wild unsettled lands bordering on the
Connecticut river, to its source. It was in the winter season, and the
snow so deep that it was impossible to travel without snow shoes--at
the close of each day we enkindled a fire, cooked our victuals and
erected with the branches of hemlock a temporary hut, which served
us for a shelter for the night. The Surveyors having completed
their business returned to Lebanon, after an absence of about two
months. Receiving my wages I purchased a fowling-piece and ammunition
therewith, and for the four succeeding months devoted my time in
hunting Deer, Beavers, &c. in which I was very successful, as in the
four months I obtained as many skins of these animals as produced
me forty dollars--with my money I purchased of a Mr. John Marsh,
100 acres of new land, lying on Water Quechy River (so called) about
five miles from Hartford (N. Y.). On this land I went immediately to
work, erected a small log hut thereon, and in two summers without any
assistance, cleared up thirty acres fit for sowing--in the winter
seasons I employed my time in hunting and entraping such animals
whose hides and furs were esteemed of the most value. I remained in
possession of my land two years, and then disposed of it to the same
person of whom I purchased it, at the advanced price of 200 dollars,
and then conveyed my skins and furs which I had collected the two
preceding winters, to NO. 4 (now Charlestown), where I exchanged
them for Indian blankets, wampeag and such other articles as I could
conveniently convey on a hand sled, and with which I started for
Canada, to barter with the Indians for furs.--This proved a very
profitable trip, as I very soon disposed of every article at an advance
of more than two hundred per cent, and received payment in furs at a
reduced price, and for which I received in NO. 4, 200 dollars, cash.
With this money, together with what I was before in possession of, I
now set out for home, once more to visit my parents after an absence
of two years and nine months, in which time my friends had not been
enabled to receive any correct information of me. On my arrival, so
greatly effected were my parents at the presence of a son whom they
had considered dead, that it was sometime before either could become
sufficiently composed to listen to or to request me to furnish them
with an account of my travels.

Soon after my return, as some atonement for the anxiety which I had
caused my parents, I presented them with most of the money that I had
earned in my absence, and formed the determination that I would remain
with them contented at home, in consequence of a conclusion from the
welcome reception that I met with, that they had repented of their
opposition, and had become reconciled to my intended union--but, in
this, I soon found that I was mistaken; for, although overjoyed to see
me alive, whom they had supposed really dead, no sooner did they find
that my long absence had rather increased than diminished my attachment
for their neighbor’s daughter, than their resentment and opposition
appeared to increase in proportion--in consequence of which I formed
the determination again to quit them, and try my fortune at sea, as I
had now arrived at an age in which I had an unquestionable right to
think and act for myself.

After remaining at home one month, I applied for and procured a
birth at Providence, on board the Sloop ----, Capt. Fuller, bound to
Grenada--having completed her loading (which consisted of stone lime,
hoops, staves, &c.) we set sail with a favourable wind, and nothing
worthy of note occurred until the 15th day from that on which we left
Providence, when the sloop was discovered to be on fire, by a smoke
issuing from her hold--the hatches were immediately raised, but as it
was discovered that the fire was caused by water communicating with
the lime, it was deemed useless to make any attempts to extinguish
it--orders were immediately thereupon given by the captain to hoist out
the long boat, which was found in such a leaky condition as to require
constant bailing to keep her afloat; we had only time to put on board
a small quantity of bread, a firkin of butter and a ten gallon keg of
water, when we embarked, eight in number, to trust ourselves to the
mercy of the waves, in a leaky boat and many leagues from land. As
our provision was but small in quantity, and it being uncertain how
long we might remain in our perilous situation, it was proposed by the
captain soon after leaving the sloop, that we should put ourselves on
an allowance of one biscuit and half a pint of water per day, for each
man, which was readily agreed to by all on board--in ten minutes after
leaving the sloop she was in a complete blaze, and presented an awful
spectacle. With a piece of the flying-jib, which had been fortunately
thrown into the boat, we made shift to erect a sail, and proceeded in
a south-west direction in hopes to reach the spanish maine, if not
so fortunate as to fall in with some vessel in our course--which, by
the interposition of kind providence in our favour, actually took
place the second day after leaving the sloop--we were discovered and
picked up by a Dutch ship bound from Eustatia to Holland, and from
the captain and crew met with a humane reception, and were supplied
with every necessary that the ship afforded--we continued on board
one week when we fell in with an American sloop bound from Piscataqua
to Antigua, which received us all on board and conveyed us in safety
to the port of her destination. At Antigua I got a birth on board an
American brig bound to Porto Rico, and from thence to Eustatia. At
Eustatia I received my discharge and entered on board a Ship belonging
to Nantucket, and bound on a whaling voyage, which proved an uncommonly
short and successful one--we returned to Nantucket full of oil after
an absence of the ship from that port of only 16 months. After my
discharge I continued about one month on the island, and then took
passage for Providence, and from thence went to Cranston, once more to
visit my friends, with whom I continued three weeks, and then returned
to Nantucket. From Nantucket I made another whaling voyage to the South
Seas and after an absence of three years, (in which time I experienced
almost all the hardships and deprivations peculiar to Whalemen in long
voyages) I succeeded by the blessings of providence in reaching once
more my native home, perfectly sick of the sea, and willing to return
to the bush and exchange a mariner’s life for one less hazardous and
fatiguing.

I remained with my friends at Cranston a few weeks, and then hired
myself to a Mr. James Waterman, of Coventry, for 12 months, to work at
farming. This was in the year 1774, and I continued with him about six
months, when the difficulties which had for some time prevailed between
the Americans and Britons, had now arrived at that crisis, as to render
it certain that hostilities would soon commence in good earnest between
the two nations; in consequence of which, the Americans at this period
began to prepare themselves for the event--companies were formed in
several of the towns in New England, who received the appellation of
“minute men,” and who were to hold themselves in readiness to obey the
first summons of their officers, to march at a moment’s notice;--a
company of this kind was formed in Coventry, into which I enlisted, and
to the command of which Edmund Johnson, of said Coventry, was appointed.

It was on a Sabbath morning that news was received of the destruction
of the provincial stores at Concord, and of the massacre of our
countrymen at Lexington, by a detached party of the British troops
from Boston: and I immediately thereupon received a summons from the
captain, to be prepared to march with the company early the morning
ensuing--and, although I felt not less willing to obey the call of
my country at a minute’s notice, and to face her foes, than did the
gallant Putnam, yet, the nature of the summons did not render it
necessary for me, like him, to quit my plough in the field; as having
the day previous commenced the ploughing of a field of ten or twelve
acres, that I might not leave my work half done, I improved the sabbath
to complete it.

By the break of day Monday morning I swung my knapsack, shouldered
my musket, and with the company commenced my march with a quick step
for Charlestown, where we arrived about sunset and remained encamped
in the vicinity until about noon of the 16th June; when, having been
previously joined by the remainder of the regiment from Rhode Island,
to which our company was attached, we received orders to proceed and
join a detachment of about 1000 American troops, which had that morning
taken possession of Bunker Hill, and which we had orders immediately
to fortify, in the best manner that circumstances would admit of. We
laboured all night without cessation and with very little refreshment,
and by the dawn of day succeeded in throwing up a redoubt of eight
or nine rods square. As soon as our works were discovered by the
British in the morning, they commenced a heavy fire upon us, which
was supported by a fort on Copp’s hill; we however (under the command
of the intrepid Putnam) continued to labour like beavers until our
breast-work was completed.

About noon, a number of the enemy’s boats and barges, filled with
troops, landed at Charlestown, and commenced a deliberate march to
attack us--we were now harangued by Gen. Putnam, who reminded us, that
exhausted as we were, by our incessant labour through the preceding
night, the most important part of our duty was yet to be performed,
and that much would be expected from so great a number of excellent
marksmen--he charged us to be cool, and to reserve our fire until the
enemy approached so near as to enable us to see the white of their
eyes--when within about ten rods of our works we gave them the contents
of our muskets, and which were aimed with so good effect, as soon to
cause them to turn their backs and to retreat with a much quicker step
than with what they approached us. We were now again harangued by “old
General Put,” as he was termed, and requested by him to aim at the
officers, should the enemy renew the attack--which they did in a few
moments, with a reinforcement--their approach was with a slow step,
which gave us an excellent opportunity to obey the commands of our
General in bringing down their officers. I feel but little disposed
to boast of my own performances on this occasion, and will only say,
that after devoting so many months in hunting the wild animals of the
wilderness, while an inhabitant of New Hampshire, the reader will not
suppose me a bad or unexperienced marksman, and that such were the fare
shots which the epauletted red coats presented in the two attacks,
that every shot which they received from me, I am confident on another
occasion would have produced me a deer skin.

So warm was the reception that the enemy met with in their second
attack, that they again found it necessary to retreat, but soon after
receiving a fresh reinforcement, a third assault was made, in which,
in consequence of our ammunition failing, they too well succeeded--a
close and bloody engagement now ensued--to fight our way through a
very considerable body of the enemy, with clubbed muskets (for there
were not one in twenty of us provided with bayonets) were now the only
means left us to escape;--the conflict, which was a sharp and severe
one, is still fresh in my memory, and cannot be forgotten by me while
the scars of the wounds which I then received, remain to remind me of
it!--fortunately for me, at this critical moment, I was armed with a
cutlass, which although without an edge, and much rust-eaten, I found
of infinite more service to me than my musket--in one instance I am
certain it was the means of saving my life--a blow with a cutlass was
aimed at my head by a British officer, which I parried and received
only a slight cut with the point on my right arm near the elbow, which
I was then unconscious of, but this slight wound cost my antagonist at
the moment a much more serious one, which effectually dis-_armed_
him, for with one well directed stroke I deprived him of the power of
very soon again measuring swords with a “yankee rebel!” We finally
however should have been mostly cut off, and compelled to yield to a
superiour and better equipped force, had not a body of three or four
hundred Connecticut men formed a temporary breast work, with rails &c.
and by which means held the enemy at bay until our main body had time
to ascend the heights, and retreat across the neck;--in this retreat I
was less fortunate than many of my comrades--I received two musket ball
wounds, one in my hip and the other near the ankle of my left leg--I
succeeded however without any assistance in reaching Prospect Hill,
where the main body of the Americans had made a stand and commenced
fortifying--from thence I was soon after conveyed to the Hospital
in Cambridge, where my wounds were dressed and the bullet extracted
from my hip by one of the Surgeons; the house was nearly filled with
the poor fellows who like myself had received wounds in the late
engagement, and presented a melancholly spectacle.

Bunker Hill fight proved a sore thing for the British, and will I doubt
not be long remembered by them; while in London I heard it frequently
spoken of by many who had taken an active part therein, some of whom
were pensioners, and bore indelible proofs of American bravery--by
them the Yankees, by whom they were opposed, were not unfrequently
represented as a set of infuriated beings, whom nothing could daunt
or intimidate: and who, after their ammunition failed, disputed the
ground, inch by inch, for a full hour with clubbed muskets, rusty
swords, pitchforks and billets of wood, against the British bayonets.

I suffered much pain from the wound which I received in my ankle, the
bone was badly fractured and several pieces were extracted by the
surgeon, and it was six weeks before I was sufficiently recovered to
be able to join my Regiment quartered on Prospect Hill, where they had
thrown up entrenchments within the distance of little more than a mile
of the enemy’s camp, which was full in view, they having entrenched
themselves on Bunker Hill after the engagement.

On the 3d July, to the great satisfaction of the Americans, General
WASHINGTON arrived from the south to take command--I was
then confined in the Hospital, but as far as my observations could
extend, he met with a joyful reception, and his arrival was welcomed by
every one throughout the camp--the troops had been long waiting with
impatience for his arrival as being nearly destitute of ammunition and
the British receiving reinforcements daily, their prospects began to
wear a gloomy aspect.

The British quartered in Boston began soon to suffer much from the
scarcity of provisions, and General Washington took every precaution
to prevent their gaining a supply--from the country all supplies could
be easily cut off, and to prevent their receiving any from Tories, and
other disaffected persons by water, the General found it necessary to
equip two or three armed vessels to intercept them--among these was the
brigantine Washington of 10 guns, commanded by Capt. Martindale,--as
seamen at this time could not easily be obtained, as most of them
had enlisted in the land service, permission was given to any of the
soldiers who should be pleased to accept of the offer, to man these
vessels--consequently myself with several others of the same regiment
went on board of the Washington, then lying at Plymouth, and in
complete order for a cruise.

We set sail about the 8th December, but had been out but three days
when we were captured by the enemy’s ship Foy, of 20 guns, who took us
all out and put a prize crew on board the Washington--the Foy proceeded
with us immediately to Boston bay where we were put on board the
British frigate Tartar and orders given to convey us to England.--When
two or three days out I projected a scheme (with the assistance of my
fellow prisoners, 72 in number) to take the ship, in which we should
undoubtedly have succeeded, as we had a number of resolute fellows on
board, had it not been for the treachery of a renegade Englishman, who
betrayed us--as I was pointed out by this fellow as the principal in
the plot, I was ordered in irons by the Officers of the Tartar, and in
which situation I remained until the arrival of the ship at Portsmouth
(Eng.) when I was brought on deck and closely examined, but protesting
my innocence, and what was very fortunate for me in the course of the
examination, the person by whom I had been betrayed, having been proved
a British deserter, his story was discredited and I was relieved of my
irons.

The prisoners were now all thoroughly cleansed and conveyed to the
marine hospital on shore, where many of us took the small-pox the
natural way, by some whom we found in the hospital effected with that
disease, and which proved fatal to nearly one half our number. From the
hospital those of us who survived were conveyed to Spithead, and put
on board a Guard Ship, and where I had been confined with my fellow
prisoners about one month, when I was ordered into the boat, to assist
the bargemen (in consequence of the absence of one of their gang) in
rowing the lieutenant on shore. As soon as we reached the shore and the
officer landed, it was proposed by some of the boat’s crew to resort
for a few moments to an ale-house, in the vicinity, to treat themselves
to a few pots of beer; which being agreed to by all, I thought this
a favourable opportunity and the only one that might present to
escape from my Floating Prison, and felt determined not to let it
pass unimproved; accordingly, as the boat’s crew were about to enter
the house, I expressed a necessity of my separating from them a few
moments, to which they (not suspecting any design), readily assented.
As soon as I saw them all snugly in and the door closed, I gave speed
to my legs, and ran, as I then concluded, about four miles without once
halting--I steered my course toward London as when there by mingling
with the crowd, I thought it probable that I should be least suspected.

When I had reached the distance of about ten miles from where I
quit the bargemen and beginning to think myself in little danger of
apprehension, should any of them be sent by the lieutenant in pursuit
of me, as I was leisurely passing a public house, I was noticed and
hailed by a naval officer at the door with “ahoi, what ship?”--“no
ship,” was my reply, on which he ordered me to stop, but of which I
took no other notice than to observe to him that if he would attend
to his own business I would proceed quietly about mine--this rather
increasing than diminishing his suspicions that I was a deserter,
garbed as I was, he gave chase--finding myself closely pursued and
unwilling again to be made a prisoner of, if it was possible to escape,
I had once more to trust to my legs, and should have again succeeded
had not the officer, on finding himself likely to be distanced, set up
a cry of “stop thief!” this brought numbers out of their houses and
work shops, who, joining in the pursuit, succeeded after a chase of
nearly a mile in overhauling me.

Finding myself once more in their power and a perfect stranger to the
country, I deemed it vain to attempt to deceive them with a lie, and
therefore made a voluntary confession to the officer that I was a
prisoner of war, and related to him in what manner I had that morning
made my escape. By the officer I was conveyed back to the Inn, and left
in custody of two soldiers--the former (previous to retiring) observing
to the landlord that believing me to be a true blooded yankee,
requested him to supply me at his expense with as much liquor as I
should call for.

The house was thronged early in the evening by many of the “good and
faithful subjects of King George,” who had assembled to take a peep
at the “yankee rebel,” (as they termed me) who had so recently taken
an active part in the rebellious war, then raging in his Majesty’s
American provinces--while others came apparently to gratify a curiosity
in viewing, for the first time, an “American Yankee!” whom they had
been taught to believe a kind of non descripts--beings of much less
refinement than the ancient Britains, and possessing little more
humanity than the Buccaneers.

As for myself I thought it best not to be reserved, but to reply
readily to all their inquiries; for while my mind was wholly employed
in devising a plan to escape from the custody of my keepers, so far
from manifesting a disposition to resent any of the insults offered
me, or my country, to prevent any suspicions of my designs, I feigned
myself not a little pleased with their observations, and in no way
dissatisfied with my situation. As the officer had left orders with the
landlord to supply me with as much liquor as I should be pleased to
call for, I felt determined to make my keepers merry at his expense, if
possible, as the best means that I could adopt to effect my escape.

The loyal group having attempted in vain to irritate me, by their mean
and ungenerous reflections, by one (who observed that he had frequently
heard it mentioned that the yankees were extraordinary dancers), it was
proposed that I should entertain the company with a jig! to which I
expressed a willingness to assent with much feigned satisfaction, if a
fiddler could be procured--fortunately for them, there was one residing
in the neighbourhood, who was soon introduced, when I was obliged
(although much against my own inclination) to take the floor--with the
full determination, however that if John Bull was to be thus diverted
at the expense of an unfortunate prisoner of war, uncle Jonathan should
come in for his part of the sport before morning, by showing them a few
_Yankee steps_ which they then little dreamed of.

By my performances they were soon satisfied that in this kind of
exercise, I should suffer but little in competition with the most
nimble footed Britain among them nor would they release me until I had
danced myself into a state of perfect perspiration; which, however, so
far from being any disadvantage to me, I considered all in favour of my
projected plan to escape--for while I was pleased to see the flowing
bowl passing merrily about, and not unfrequently brought in contact
with the lips of my two keepers, the state of perspiration that I was
in, prevented its producing on me any intoxicating effects.

The evening having become now far spent and the company mostly
retiring, my keepers (who, to use a sailor’s phrase I was happy to
discover “half seas over”) having much to my dissatisfaction furnished
me with a pair of handcuffs spread a blanket by the side of their bed
on which I was to repose for the night. I feigned myself very grateful
to them for having humanely furnished me with so comfortable a bed,
and on which I stretched myself with much apparent unconcern, and
remained quiet about one hour, when I was sure that the family had
all retired to bed. The important moment had now arrived in which I
was resolved to carry my premeditated plan into execution, or die in
the attempt--for certain I was that if I let this opportunity pass
unimproved, I might have cause to regret it when it was too late--that
I should most assuredly be conveyed early in the morning back to the
floating prison from which I had so recently escaped, and where I might
possibly remain confined until America should obtain her independence,
or the differences between Great-Britain and her American provinces
were adjusted. Yet should I in my attempt to escape meet with more
opposition from my keepers, than what I had calculated from their
apparent state of inebriety, the contest I well knew would be very
unequal--they were two full grown stout men, with whom (if they were
assisted by no others) I should have to contend, handcuffed! but, after
mature deliberation, I resolved that however hazardous the attempt, it
should be made, and that immediately.

After remaining quiet, as I before observed, until I thought it
probable that all had retired to bed in the house, I intimated to my
keepers that I was under the necessity of requesting permission to
retire for a few moments to the back yard; when both instantly arose
and reeling toward me seized each an arm, and proceeded to conduct
me through a long and narrow entry to the back door, which was no
sooner unbolted and opened by one of them, than I tripped up the heels
of both and laid them sprawling, and in a moment was at the garden
wall seeking a passage whereby I might gain the public road--a new
and unexpected obstacle now presented, for I found the whole garden
enclosed with a smooth bricken wall, of the heighth of twelve feet at
least, and was prevented by the darkness of the night from discovering
an avenue leading therefrom--in this predicament, my only alternative
was either to scale this wall handcuffed as I was, and without a
moment’s hesitation, or to suffer myself to be made a captive of again
by my keepers, who had already recovered their feet and were bellowing
like bullocks for assistance--had it not been a very dark night, I
must certainly have been discovered and re-taken by them;--fortunately
before they had succeeded in rallying the family, in groping about I
met with a fruit tree situated within ten or twelve feet of the wall,
which I ascended as expeditiously as possible, and by an extraordinary
leap from the branches reached the top of the wall, and was in an
instant on the opposite side. The coast being now clear, I ran to the
distance of two or three miles, with as much speed as my situation
would admit of;--my next object now was to rid myself of my handcuffs,
which fortunately proving none of the stoutest, I succeeded in doing
after much painful labour.

It was now as I judged about 12 o’clock, and I had succeeded in
reaching a considerable distance from the Inn from which I had made
my escape, without hearing or seeing any thing of my keepers, whom I
had left staggering about in the garden in search of their “Yankee
captive!”--it was indeed to their intoxicated state, and the extreme
darkness of the night, that I imputed my success in evading their
pursuit.--I saw no one until about the break of day, when I met an
old man, tottering beneath the weight of his pick-ax, hoe and shovel,
clad in tattered garments, and otherwise the picture of poverty and
distress; he had just left his humble dwelling, and was proceeding
thus early to his daily labour;--and as I was now satisfied that it
would be very difficult for me to travel in the day time garbed as
I was, in a sailor’s habit, without exciting the suspicions of his
Royal Majesty’s pimps, who (I had been informed) were constantly on
the look-out for deserters, I applied to the old man, miserable as he
appeared, for a change of cloathing, offering those which I then wore
for a suit of inferior quality and less value--this I was induced to
do at that moment, as I thought that the proposal could be made with
perfect safety, for whatever might have been his suspicions as to my
motives in wishing to exchange my dress, I doubted not, that with an
object of so much apparent distress, self-interest would prevent his
communicating them.--The old man however appeared a little surprised
at my offer, and after a short examination of my pea-jacket, trousers,
&c. expressed a doubt whether I would be willing to exchange them for
his “Church suit,” which he represented as something worse for wear,
and not worth half so much as those I then wore--taking courage however
from my assurances that a change of dress was my only object, he
deposited his tools by the side of a hedge, and invited me to accompany
him to his house, which we soon reached and entered, when a scene of
poverty and wretchedness presented, which exceeded every thing of the
kind that I had ever before witnessed--the internal appearance of the
miserable hovel, I am confident would suffer in a comparison with any
of the meanest stables of our American farmers--there was but one
room, in one corner of which was a bed of straw covered with a coarse
sheet, and on which reposed his wife and five small children. I had
heard much of the impoverished and distressed situation of the poor in
England, but the present presented an instance of which I had formed
no conception--little indeed did I then think that it would be my
lot, before I should meet with an opportunity to return to my native
country, to be placed in an infinitely worse situation! but, alas, such
was my hard fortune!

The first garment presented by the poor old man, of his best, or
“church suit,” as he termed it, was a coat of very coarse cloth, and
containing a number of patches of almost every colour but that of
the cloth of which it was originally made--the next was a waistcoat
and a pair of small cloathes, which appeared each to have received a
bountiful supply of patches to correspond with the coat--the coat I put
on without much difficulty, but the two other garments proved much too
small for me, and when I had succeeded with considerable difficulty in
putting them on, they set so taut as to cause me some apprehension that
they might even stop the circulation of blood!--my next exchange was my
buff cap for an old rusty large brimmed hat.

The old man appeared very much pleased with his bargain, and
represented to his wife that he could now accompany her to church
much more decently clad--he immediately tried on the pea-jacket
and trousers, and seemed to give himself very little concern about
their size, although I am confident that one leg of the trousers was
sufficiently large to admit his whole body--but, however ludicrous his
appearance, in his new suit, I am confident that it could not have been
more so than mine, garbed as I was, like an old man of seventy!--From
my old friend I learned the course that I must steer to reach London,
the towns and villages that I should have to pass through, and the
distance thereto, which was between 70 and 80 miles. He likewise
represented to me that the country was filled with soldiers, who were
on the constant look-out for deserters from the navy and army, for the
apprehension of which they received a stipulated reward.

After enjoining it on the old man not to give any information of me,
should he meet on the road anyone who should enquire for such a person,
I took my leave of him, and again set out with a determination to reach
London, thus disguised, if possible;--I travelled about 30 miles that
day, and at night entered a barn in hopes to find some straw or hay on
which to repose for the night, for I had not money sufficient to pay
for a night’s lodging at a public house, had I thought it prudent to
apply for one--in my expectation to find either hay or straw in the
barn I was sadly disappointed, for I soon found that it contained not
a lock of either, and after groping about in the dark in search of
something that might serve for a substitute, I found nothing better
than an undressed sheep-skin--with no other bed on which to repose
my wearied limbs I spent a sleepless night; cold, hungry and weary,
and impatient for the arrival of the morning’s dawn, that I might be
enabled to pursue my journey.

By break of day I again set out and soon found myself within the
suburbs of a considerable village, in passing which I was fearful
there would be some risk of detection, but to guard myself as much
as possible against suspicion, I furnished myself with a crutch, and
feigning myself a cripple, hobbled through the town without meeting
with any interruption. In two hours after, I arrived in the vicinity
of another still more considerable village, but fortunately for me,
at the moment, I was overtaken by an empty baggage waggon, bound to
London--again feigning myself very lame, I begged of the driver to
grant a poor cripple the indulgence to ride a few miles, to which
he assenting, I concealed myself by lying prostrate on the bottom
of the waggon, until we had passed quite through the village; when,
finding the waggoner disposed to drive much slower than what I wished
to travel, after thanking him for the kind disposition which he had
manifested to oblige me, I quit the waggon, threw away my crutch and
travelled with a speed, calculated to surprise the driver with so
suddenly a recovery of the use of my legs--the reader will perceive
that I had now become almost an adept at deception, which I would
not however have so frequently practiced, had not self-preservation
demanded it.

As I thought there would be in my journey to London, infinitely more
danger of detection in passing through large towns or villages, than in
confining myself to the country, I avoided them as much as possible;
and as I found myself once more on the borders of one, apparently of
much larger size than any that I had yet passed, I thought it most
expedient to take a circuitous route to avoid it; in attempting which,
I met with an almost insurmountable obstacle, that I little dreamed
of--when nearly abreast of the town, I found my route obstructed by a
ditch, of upwards of 19 feet in breadth, and of what depth I could not
determine; as there was now no other alternative left me, but to leap
this ditch, or to retrace my steps and pass through the town, after
a moment’s reflection I determined to attempt the former, although
it would be attempting a fete of activity, that I supposed myself
incapable of performing; yet, however incredible it may appear, I
assure my readers that I did effect it, and reached the opposite side
with dry feet!

I had now arrived within about 16 miles of London, when night
approaching, I again sought lodgings in a barn; which containing a
small quantity of hay, I succeeded in obtaining a tolerable comfortable
night’s rest. By the dawn of day I arose somewhat refreshed, and
resumed my journey with the pleasing prospect of reaching London
before night--but, while encouraged and cheered by these pleasing
anticipations, an unexpected occurrence blasted my fair prospects--I
had succeeded in reaching in safety a distance so great from the place
where I had been last held a prisoner, and within so short a distance
of London, the place of my destination, that I began to think myself
so far out of danger, as to cause me to relax in a measure, in the
precautionary means which I had made use of to avoid detection;--as
I was passing through the town of Staines, (within a few miles of
London) about 11 o’clock in the forenoon, I was met by three or four
British soldiers, whose notice I attracted, and who unfortunately for
me, discovered by the collar (which I had not taken the precaution to
conceal) that I wore a shirt which exactly corresponded with those
uniformly worn by his Majesty’s seamen--not being able to give a
satisfactory account of myself, I was made a prisoner of, on suspicion
of being a deserter from his Majesty’s service, and was immediately
committed to the Round House; a prison so called, appropriated to the
confinement of runaways, and those convicted of small offenses--I was
committed in the evening, and to secure me the more effectually, I was
handcuffed, and left supperless by my unfeeling jailor, to pass the
night in wretchedness.

I had now been three days without food (with the exception of a
single two-penny loaf) and felt myself unable much longer to resist
the cravings of nature--my spirits, which until now had armed me with
fortitude began to forsake me--indeed I was at this moment on the eve
of despair! when, calling to mind that grief would only aggravate my
calamity, I endeavoured to arm my soul with patience; and habituate
myself as well as I could, to woe.--Accordingly I roused my spirits;
and banishing for a few moments, these gloomy ideas, I began to reflect
seriously, on the methods how to extricate myself from this labyrinth
of horror.

My first object was to rid myself of my handcuffs, which I succeeded in
doing after two hours hard labour, by sawing them across the grating
of the window; having my hands now at liberty, the next thing to be
done was to force the door of my apartment, which was secured on the
outside by a hasp and padlock; I devised many schemes but for the want
of tools to work with, was unable to carry them into execution--I
however at length succeeded, with the assistance of no other instrument
than the bolt of my handcuffs; with which, thrusting my arm through
a small window or aperture in the door, I forced the padlock, and
as there was now no other barrier to prevent my escape, after an
imprisonment of about five hours, I was once more at large.

It was now as I judged about midnight, and although enfeebled and
tormented with excessive hunger and fatigue, I set out with the
determination of reaching London, if possible, early the ensuing
morning. By break of day I reached and passed through Brintford, a town
of considerable note and within six miles of the Capital--but so great
was my hunger at this moment, that I was under serious apprehension
of falling a victim to absolute starvation, if not so fortunate soon
to obtain something to appease it. I recollected of having read in my
youth, accounts of the dreadful effects of hunger, which had led men to
the commission of the most horrible excesses, but did not then think
that fate would ever thereafter doom me to an almost similar situation.

When I made my escape from the Prison ship, six English pennies was all
the money that I possessed--with two I had purchased a two penny loaf
the day after I had escaped from my keepers at the Inn, and the other
four still remained in my possession, not having met with a favourable
opportunity since the purchase of the first loaf to purchase food of
any kind. When I had arrived at the distance of one and an half miles
from Brintford, I met with a labourer employed in building a pale
fence, to whom my deplorable situation induced me to apply for work;
or for information of any one in the neighbourhood, that might be in
want of a hand to work at farming or gardening. He informed me that he
did not wish himself to hire, but that Sir John Miller, whose seat he
represented but a short distance, was in the habit of employing many
hands at that season of the year (which was in the spring of 1776) and
he doubted not but that I might there meet with employment.

With my spirits a little revived, at even a distant prospect of
obtaining something to alleviate my sufferings, I started in quest of
the seat of Sir John, agreeable to the directions which I had received;
in attempting to reach which, I mistook my way, and proceeded up a
gravelled and beautifully ornamented walk, which unconsciously led me
directly to the garden of the Princess Amelia--I had approached within
view of the Royal Mansion when a glimpse of a number of “red coats”
who thronged the yard, satisfied me of my mistake, and caused me to
make an instantaneous and precipitate retreat, being determined not
to afford any more of their mess an opportunity of boasting of the
capture of a “Yankee Rebel,”--indeed, a wolf or a bear, of the American
wilderness, could not be more terrified or panic-struck at the sight of
a firebrand, than I then was at that of a British red coat!

Having succeeded in making good my retreat from the garden of her
highness, without being discovered, I took another path which led me to
where a number of labourers were employed in shovelling gravel, and to
whom I repeated my enquiry if they could inform me of any in want of
help, &c.--“why in troth friend (answered one in a dialect peculiar to
the labouring class of people of that part of the country) me master,
Sir John, hires a goodly many, and as we’ve a deal of work now, may-be
he’ll hire you; ’spose he stop a little with us until work is done,
he may then gang along, and we’ll question Sir John, whither him be
wanting another like us or no!”

Although I was sensible that an application of this kind, might lead to
a discovery of my situation, whereby I might be again deprived of my
liberty, and immured in a loathsome prison; yet, as there was now no
other alternative left me but to seek in this way, something to satisfy
the cravings of hunger, or to yield a victim to starvation, with all
its attending horrors: of the two evils I preferred the least, and
concluded as the honest labourer had proposed, to await until they had
completed their work, and then to accompany them home to ascertain the
will of Sir John.

As I had heard much of the tyrannical and domineering disposition of
the rich and purse-proud of England, and who were generally the lords
of the manor, and the particular favourites of the crown; it was not
without feeling a very considerable degree of diffidence, that I
introduced myself into the presence of one whom I strongly suspected
to be of that class--but, what was peculiarly fortunate for me, a
short acquaintance was sufficient to satisfy me that as regarded this
gentleman, my apprehensions were without cause. I found him walking in
his front yard in company with several gentlemen, and on being made
acquainted with my business, his first enquiry was whether I had a hoe,
or money to purchase one, and on being answered in the negative, he
requested me to call early the ensuing morning, and he would endeavour
to furnish me with one.

It is impossible for me to express the satisfaction that I felt at this
prospect of a deliverance from my wretched situation. I was now by so
long fasting reduced to such a state of weakness, that my legs were
hardly able to support me, and it was with extreme difficulty that I
succeeded in reaching a baker’s shop in the neighbourhood, where with
my four remaining pennies, which I had reserved for a last resource, I
purchased two two-penny loaves.

After four days of intolerable hunger, the reader may judge how great
must have been my joy, to find myself in possession of even a morsel
to appease it--well might I have exclaimed at this moment with the
unfortunate Trenck--“O nature! what delight hast thou combined with
the gratification of thy wants! remember this ye who rack invention to
excite appetite, and which yet you cannot procure; remember how simple
are the means that will give a crust of mouldy bread a flavour more
exquisite than all the spices of the east, or all the profusion of land
or sea; remember this, grow hungry, and indulge your sensuality.”

Although five times the quantity of the “staff of life” would have
been insufficient to have satisfied my appetite, yet, as I thought
it improbable that I should be indulged with a mouthful of any thing
to eat in the morning, I concluded to eat then but one loaf, and to
reserve the other for another meal; but having eaten one, so far from
satisfying, it seemed rather to increase my appetite for the other--the
temptation was irresistable--the cravings of hunger predominated, and
would not be satisfied until I had devoured the remaining one.

The day was now far spent and I was compelled to resort with reluctance
to a carriage house, to spend another night in misery; I found nothing
therein on which to repose my wearied limbs but the bare floor, which
was sufficient to deprive me of sleep, however much exhausted nature
required it; my spirits were however buoyed up by the pleasing
consolation that the succeeding day would bring relief;--as soon as day
light appeared, I hastened to await the commands of one, whom, since
my first introduction, I could not but flatter myself would prove my
benefactor, and afford me that relief which my pitiful situation so
much required--it was an hour much earlier than that at which even the
domestics were in the habit of arising, and I had been a considerable
time walking back and forth in the barn yard, before any made their
appearance. It was now about 4 o’clock, and by the person of whom I
made the enquiry, I was informed that 8 o’clock was the usual hour in
which the labourers commenced their day’s work--permission was granted
me by this person (who had the care of the stable) to repose myself on
some straw beneath the manger, until they should be in readiness to
depart to commence their day’s work--in the four hours I had a more
comfortable nap than any that I had enjoyed the four preceding nights.
At 8 o’clock precisely all hands were called, and preparations made for
a commencement of the labours of the day--I was furnished with a large
iron fork and a hoe, and ordered by my employer to accompany them, and
although my strength at this moment was hardly sufficient to enable
me to bear even so light a burden, yet was unwilling to expose my
weakness, so long as it could be avoided--but, the time had now arrived
in which it was impossible for me any longer to conceal it, and had
to confess the cause to my fellow labourers, so far as to declare to
them, that such had been my state of poverty, that (with the exception
of the four small loaves of bread) I had not tasted food for four
days! I was not I must confess displeased nor a little disappointed
to witness the evident emotions of pity and commiseration, which this
woeful declaration appeared to excite in their minds: as I had supposed
them too much accustomed to witness scenes of misery and distress, to
have their feelings much effected by a brief recital of my sufferings
and deprivations--but in justice to them I must say, that although a
very illiterate, I found them (with a few exceptions) a humane and
benevolent people.

About 11 o’clock we were visited by our employer, Sir John: who,
noticing me particularly, and perceiving the little progress I made
in my labour, observed, that although I had the appearance of being
a stout hearty man, yet I either feigned myself or really was a very
weak one! on which it was immediately observed by one of my friendly
fellow labourers, that it was not surprising that I lacked strength,
as I had eaten nothing of consequence for four days! Mr. Millet, who
appeared at first little disposed to credit the fact, on being assured
by me that it was really so, put a shilling into my hand, and bid me go
immediately and purchase to that amount in bread and meat--a request
which the reader may suppose I did not hesitate to comply with.

Having made a tolerable meal, and feeling somewhat refreshed thereby,
I was on my return when I was met by my fellow labourers on their
return home, four o’clock being the hour in which they usually quit
work. As soon as we arrived, some victuals was ordered for me by Sir
John, when the maid presenting a much smaller quantity, than what her
benevolent master supposed sufficient to satisfy the appetite of one
who had been four days fasting, she was ordered to return and bring
out the platter and the whole of its contents, and of which I was
requested to eat my fill, but of which I ate sparingly to prevent the
dangerous consequences which might have resulted from my voracity in
the debilitated state to which my stomach was reduced.

My light repast being over, one of the men were ordered by my
hospitable friend to provide for me a comfortable bed in the barn,
where I spent the night on a couch of clean straw, more sweetly than
ever I had done in the days of my better fortune. I arose early much
refreshed, and was preparing after breakfast to accompany the labourers
to their work, which was no sooner discovered by Sir John, than
smiling, he bid me return to my couch and there remain until I was in a
better state to resume my labours; indeed the generous compassion and
benevolence of this gentleman was unbounded. After having on that day
partook of an excellent dinner, which had been provided expressly for
me, and the domestics having been ordered to retire, I was not a little
surprised to hear myself thus addressed by him--“my honest friend, I
perceive that you are a sea-faring man, and your history probably is a
secret which you may not wish to divulge; but, whatever circumstances
may have attended you, you may make them known to me with the greatest
safety, for I pledge my honour I will never betray you.”

Having experienced so many proofs of the friendly disposition of Mr.
Millet, I could not hesitate a moment to comply with his request, and
without attempting to conceal a single fact, made him acquainted with
every circumstance that had attended me since my first enlistment as
a soldier--after expressing his regret that there should be any of
his countrymen found so void of the principles of humanity, as to
treat thus an unfortunate prisoner of war, he assured me that so long
as I remained in his employ he would guarantee my safety--adding,
that notwithstanding (in consequence of the unhappy differences which
then prevailed between Great Britain and her American colonies)
the inhabitants of the latter were denominated Rebels, yet they
were not without their friends in England, who wished well to their
cause, and would cheerfully aid them whenever an opportunity should
present--he represented the soldiers (whom it had been reported to me,
were constantly on the look out for deserters) as a set of mean and
contemptible wretches, little better than a lawless banditti, who,
to obtain the fee awarded by government, for the apprehension of a
deserter, would betray their best friends.

Having been generously supplied with a new suit of cloathes and
other necessaries by Mr. M. I contracted with him for six months, to
superintend his strawberry garden, in the course of which so far from
being molested, I was not suspected by even his own domestics of being
an American--at the expiration of the six months, by the recommendation
of my hospitable friend, I got a berth in the garden of the Princess
Amelia, where although among my fellow labourers the American Rebellion
was not unfrequently the topic of their conversation, and the “d--d
Yankee Rebels” (as they termed them) frequently the subjects of their
vilest abuse, I was little suspected of being one of that class whom
they were pleased thus to denominate--I must confess that it was not
without some difficulty, that I was enabled to surpress the indignant
feelings occasioned by hearing my countrymen spoken so disrespectfully
of, but as a single word in their favour might have betrayed me, I
could obtain no other satisfaction than by secretly indulging the hope
that I might before the conclusion of the war, have an opportunity to
repay them, in their own coin, with interest.

I remained in the employ of the Princess about three months, and then
in consequence of a misunderstanding with the overseer, I hired myself
to a farmer in a small village adjoining Brintford, where I had not
been three weeks employed before rumour was afloat that I was a Yankee
Prisoner of war! from whence the report arose, or by what occasioned,
I never could learn--it no sooner reached the ears of the soldiers,
than they were on the alert, seeking an opportunity to seize my
person--fortunately I was appraised of their intentions before they
had time to carry them into effect; I was however hard pushed, and
sought for by them with that diligence and perseverance that certainly
deserved a better cause--I had many hair breadth escapes, and most
assuredly should have been taken, had it not been for the friendship of
those whom I suspect felt not less friendly to the cause of my country,
but dare not publicly avow it--I was at one time traced by the soldiers
in pursuit of me to the house of one of this description, in whose
garret I was concealed, and was at that moment in bed; they entered and
enquired for me, and on being told that I was not in the house, they
insisted on searching, and were in the act of ascending the chamber
stairs for that purpose, when seizing my cloathes, I passed up through
the scuttle, and reached the roof of the house, and from thence half
naked passed to those of the adjoining ones to the number of ten or
twelve, and succeeded in making my escape without being discovered.

Being continually harassed by night and day by the soldiers, and driven
from place to place, without an opportunity to perform a day’s work,
I was advised by one whose sincerity I could not doubt, to apply for
a berth as a labourer in a garden of his Royal Majesty, situated in
the village of Quew, a few miles from Brintford; where, under the
protection of his Majesty, it was represented to me that I should be
perfectly safe, as the soldiers dare not approach the royal premises,
to molest any one therein employed--he was indeed so friendly as
to introduce me personally to the overseer, as an acquaintance who
possessed a perfect knowledge of gardening, but from whom he carefully
concealed the fact of my being an American born, and of the suspicion
entertained by some of my being a prisoner of war, who had escaped the
vigilance of my keepers.

The overseer concluded to receive me on trial;--it was here that I had
not only frequent opportunities to see his Royal Majesty in person,
in his frequent resorts to this, one of his country retreats, but
once had the honour of being addressed by him. The fact was, that I
had not been one week employed in the garden, before the suspicion
of my being either a prisoner of war, or a Spy, in the employ of the
American Rebels, was communicated, not only to the overseer and other
persons employed in the garden, but even to the King himself! As I was
one day busily engaged with three others in gravelling a walk, I was
unexpectedly accosted by his Majesty: who, with much apparent good
nature, enquired of me of what country I was--“an American born, may
it please your Majesty,” was my reply (taking off my hat, which he
requested me instantly to replace on my head),--“ah! (continued he with
a smile) an American, a stubborn, a very stubborn people indeed!--and
what brought you to this country, and how long have you been here?”
“the fate of war, your Majesty--I was brought to this country a
prisoner about eleven months since,”--and thinking this a favourable
opportunity to acquaint him with a few of my grievances, I briefly
stated to him how much I had been harassed by the soldiers--“while here
employed they will not trouble you,” was the only reply he made, and
passed on. The familiar manner in which I had been interrogated by his
Majesty, had I must confess a tendency in some degree to prepossess
me in his favour--I at least suspected him to possess a disposition
less tyrannical, and capable of better view than what had been imputed
to him; and as I had frequently heard it represented in America,
that uninfluenced by such of his ministers, as unwisely disregarded
the reiterated complaints of the American people, he would have been
foremost to have redressed their grievances, of which they so justly
complained.

I continued in the service of his Majesty’s gardner at Quew, about four
months, when the season having arrived in which the work of the garden
required less labourers I with three others was discharged; and the
day after engaged myself for a few months, to a farmer in the town and
neighbourhood where I had been last employed--but, not one week had
expired before the old story of my being an American prisoner of war
&c. was revived and industriously circulated, and the soldiers (eager
to obtain the proffered bounty) like a pack of blood-hounds were again
on the track seeking an opportunity to surprise me--the house wherein
I had taken up my abode, was several times thoroughly searched by
them, but I was always so fortunate as to discover their approach in
season to make good my escape by the assistance of a friend--to so much
inconvenience however did this continual apprehension and fear subject
me, that I was finally half resolved to surrender myself a prisoner
to some of his Majesty’s officers, and submit to my fate, whatever
it might be, when by an unexpected occurrence, and the seasonable
interposition of providence in my favour, I was induced to change my
resolution.

I had been strongly of the opinion by what I had myself experienced,
that America was not without her friends in England, and those who were
her well wishers in the important cause in which she was at that moment
engaged; an opinion which I think no one will disagree with me in
saying, was somewhat confirmed, by a circumstance of that importance,
as entitles it to a conspicuous place in my narrative. At a moment
when driven almost to a state of despondency by continual alarms and
fears of falling into the hands of a set of desperadoes, who for a very
small reward would willingly have undertaken the commission of almost
any crime; I received a message from a gentleman of respectability of
Brintford (J. Woodcock Esq.) requesting me to repair immediately to
his house--the invitation I was disposed to pay but little attention
to, as I viewed it nothing more than a plan of my pursuers to decoy
and entrap me--but, on learning from my confidential friend that the
gentleman by whom the message had been sent, was one whose loyalty had
been doubted, I was induced to comply with the request.

I reached the house of ’Squire Woodcock about 8 o’clock in the evening,
and after receiving from him at the door assurances that I might enter
without fear or apprehension of any design on his part against me, I
suffered myself to be introduced into a private chamber, where were
seated two other gentlemen, who appeared to be persons of no mean
rank, and proved to be no other than Horne Tooke and James Bridges
Esquires--as all three of these gentlemen have long since paid the debt
of nature, and are placed beyond the reach of such as might be disposed
to persecute or reproach them for their disloyalty, I can now with
perfect safety disclose their names--names which ought to be dear to
every true American.

After having (by their particular request) furnished these gentlemen
with a brief account of the most important incidents of my life,
I underwent a very strict examination, as they seemed determined
to satisfy themselves, before they made any important advances or
disclosures, that I was a person in whom they could repose implicit
confidence. Finding me firmly attached to the interests of my country,
so much so as to be willing to sacrifice even my life if necessary
in her behalf, they began to address me with less reserve; and after
bestowing the highest encomiums on my countrymen, for the bravery
which they had displayed in their recent engagements with the British
troops, as well as for their patriotism in publicly manifesting their
abhorrence and detestation of the ministerial party in England, who
to alienate their affections and to enslave them, had endeavoured to
subvert the British constitution; they enquired of me if (to promote
the interests of my country) I should have any objection to take a trip
to Paris, on an important mission, if my passage and other expences
were paid, and a generous compensation allowed me for my trouble; and
which in all probability would lead to the means whereby I might be
enabled to return to my country--to which I replied that I should have
none. After having enjoined upon me to keep every thing which they had
communicated, a profound secret, they presented me with a guinea, and a
letter for a gentleman in White Waltam (a country town about 30 miles
from Brintford) which they requested me to reach as soon as possible,
and there remain until they should send for me, and by no means to fail
to arrive at the precise hour that they should appoint.

After partaking of a little refreshment I set out at 12 o’clock at
night, and reached White Waltam at half past 11 the succeeding day,
and immediately waited on and presented the letter to the gentleman
to whom it was directed, and who gave me a very cordial reception,
and whom I soon found was as real a friend to America’s cause as the
three gentlemen in whose company I had last been. It was from him that
I received the first information of the evacuation of Boston by the
British troops, and of the declaration of INDEPENDENCE, by
the American Congress--he indeed appeared to possess a knowledge of
almost every important transaction in America, since the memorable
battle of Bunker-Hill, and it was to him that I was indebted for
many particulars, not a little interesting to myself, and which I
might otherwise have remained ignorant of, as I have always found it
a principle of the Britains, to conceal every thing calculated to
diminish or tarnish their fame, as a “great and powerful nation!”

I remained in the family of this gentleman about a fortnight, when I
received a letter from ’Squire Woodcock, requesting me to be at his
house without fail precisely at 2 o’clock the morning ensuing--in
compliance of which I packed up and started immediately for Brintford,
and reached the house of ’Squire Woodcock at the appointed hour--I
found there in company with the latter, the two gentlemen whose names
I have before mentioned, and by whom the object of my mission to Paris
was now made known to me--which was to convey in the most secret
manner possible a letter to Dr. FRANKLIN; every thing was in
readiness, and a chaise ready harnessed which was to convey me to
Charing Cross, waiting at the door--I was presented with a pair of
boots, made expressly for me, and for the safe conveyance of the letter
of which I was to be the bearer, one of them contained a false heel,
in which the letter was deposited, and was to be thus conveyed to the
Doctor. After again repeating my former declarations, that whatever
might be my fate, they should never be exposed, I departed, and was
conveyed in quick time to Charing Cross, where I took the post coach
for Dover, and from thence was immediately conveyed in a packet to
Calais, and in fifteen minutes after landing, started for Paris; which
I reached in safety, and delivered to Dr. Franklin the letter of which
I was the bearer.

What were the contents of this letter I was never informed and never
knew, but had but little doubt but that it contained important
information relative to the views of the British cabinet, as regarded
the affairs of America; and although I well knew that a discovery
(while within the British dominions) would have proved equally fatal
to me as to the gentlemen by whom I was employed, yet, I most solemnly
declare, that to be serviceable to my country at that important period,
was much more of an object with me, than the reward which I had been
promised, however considerable it might be. My interview with Dr.
Franklin was a pleasing one--for nearly an hour he conversed with me
in the most agreeable and instructive manner, and listened to the tale
of my sufferings with much apparent interest, and seemed disposed to
encourage me with the assurance that if the Americans should succeed in
their grand object, and firmly establish their Independence, they would
not fail to remunerate their soldiers for their services--but, alas! as
regards myself, these assurances have not as yet been verified!--I am
confident, however, that had it been a possible thing for that great
and good man (whose humanity and generosity have been the theme of
infinitely abler pens than mine) to have lived to this day, I should
not have petitioned my country in vain for a momentary enjoyment of
that provision, which has been extended to so great a portion of my
fellow soldiers; and whose hardships and deprivations, in the cause of
their country, could not I am sure have been half so great as mine!

After remaining two days in Paris, letters were delivered to me by the
Doctor, to convey to the gentlemen by whom I had been employed, and
which for their better security as well as my own, I deposited as the
other, in the heel of my boot, and with which to the great satisfaction
of my friends I reached Brintford, in safety, and without exciting the
suspicion of any one as to the important (although somewhat dangerous)
mission that I had been engaged in. I remained secreted in the house
of ’Squire Woodcock a few days, and then by his and the two other
gentlemen’s request, made a second trip to Paris, and in reaching which
and in delivering my letters, was equally as fortunate as in my first.
If I should succeed in returning in safety to Brintford this trip, I
was (agreeable to the generous proposal of Doctor Franklin) to return
immediately to France, from whence he was to procure me a passage
to America;--but, although in my return I met with no difficulty,
yet, as if fate had selected me as a victim to endure the miseries
and privations which afterward attended me, but three hours before
I reached Dover to engage a passage for the third and last time to
Calais, all intercourse between the two countries was prohibited!

My flattering expectations of being enabled soon to return to my
native country, and once more to meet and enjoy the society of my
friends, (after an absence of more than twelve months) being thus
by an unforeseen circumstance completely destroyed, I returned
immediately to the gentlemen by whom I had been last employed to advise
with them what it would be best for me to do, in my then unpleasant
situation--for indeed, as all prospects were now at an end, of meeting
with an opportunity very soon to return to America, I could not bear
the idea of remaining any longer in a neighbourhood where I was so
strongly suspected of being a fugitive from justice and under continual
apprehension of being retaken, and immured like a felon in a dungeon.

By these gentlemen I was advised to repair immediately to London, where
employed as a labourer, if I did not imprudently betray myself, they
thought there was little probability of my being suspected of being
an American. This advice I readily accepted as the plan was such a one
as exactly accorded with my opinion, for from the very moment that I
first escaped from the clutches of my captors, I thought that in the
city of London I should not be so liable to be suspected and harassed
by the soldiers, as I should to remain in the country. These gentlemen
supplied me with money sufficient to defray my expenses and would
have willingly furnished me with a recommendation had they not been
fearful that if I should be so unfortunate as to be recognized by any
one acquainted with the circumstance of my capture and escape, those
recommendations (as their loyalty was already doubted) might operate
much against them, in as much as they might furnish a clue to the
discovery of some transactions which they then felt unwilling to have
exposed. I ought here to state that before I set out for London, I was
entrusted by these gentlemen with Five Guineas, which I was requested
to convey and distribute among a number of Americans, then confined as
prisoners of war, in one of the city prisons.

I reached London late in the evening and the next day engaged board at
Five Shillings per week, at a public house in Lombard Street, where
under a ficticious name I passed for a farmer from Lincolnshire--my
next object was to find my way to the prison where were confined as
prisoners of war a number of my countrymen, and among whom I was
directed to distribute the 5 guineas with which I had been entrusted
for that purpose by their friends at Brintford.--I found the prison
without much difficulty, but it was with very considerable difficulty
that I gained admittance, and not until I had presented the turnkey
with a considerable fee would he consent to indulge me. The reader will
suppose that I must have been very much surprised, when, as soon as
the door of the prisoner’s apartment was opened, and I had passed the
threshold, to hear one of them exclaim with much apparent astonishment,
“Potter! is that you! how in the name of heaven came you here!”--an
exclamation like this by one of a number to whom I supposed myself a
perfect stranger, caused me much uneasiness for a few moments, as I
expected nothing less than to recognize in this man, some one of my old
shipmates, who had undoubtedly a knowledge of the fact of my being a
prisoner of war, and having been confined as such on board the guard
ship at spithead--but, in this I soon found to my satisfaction that
I was mistaken, for after viewing for a moment the person by whom I
had been thus addressed. I discovered him to be no other than my old
friend seargent Singles, with whom I had been intimately acquainted
in America--as the exclamation was in presence of the turnkey, least
I should have the key turned upon me, and be considered as lawful a
prisoner as any of the rest, I hinted to my friend that he certainly
mistook me (a Lincolnshire farmer) for another person, and by a wink
which he received from me at the same moment gave him to understand
that a renewal of our acquaintance or an exchange of civilities
would be more agreeable to me at any other time. I now as I had been
requested divided the money as equally as possible among them, and
to prevent the suspicions of the keeper, I represented to them in a
feigned dialect peculiar to the labouring people of the Shire-towns,
that, “me master was owing a little trifle or so to a rebel trader of
one of his Majesty’s American provinces, and was quested by him to pay
the ballance and so, to his brother yankee rebels here imprisoned.”

I found the poor fellows (fifteen in number) confined in a dark filthy
apartment of about 18 feet square; and which I could not perceive
contained any thing but a rough plank bench of about 10 feet in
length, and a heap of straw with one or two tattered, filthy looking
blankets spread thereon, which was probably the only bedding allowed
them--although their situation was such as could not fail to excite
my pity, yet, I could do no more than lament that it was not in my
power to relieve them--how long they remained thus confined or when
exchanged, I could never learn, as I never to my knowledge saw one of
them afterwards.

For four or five days, after I reached London, I did very little more
than walk about the city, viewing such curiosities as met my eye; when,
reflecting that remaining thus idle, I should not only be very soon out
of funds, but should run the risk of being suspected and apprehended as
one belonging to one of the numerous gangs of pick-pockets &c. which
infest the streets of the city; I applied to an Intelligence Office
for a coachman’s berth, which I was so fortunate as to procure, at 15
shillings per week--my employer (J. Hyslop, Esq.) although rigid in
his exactions, was punctual in his payments, and by my strict prudence
and abstinence from the numerous diversions of the city, I was enabled
in the six months which I served him, to lay up more cash than what
I had earned the twelve months preceding. The next business in which
I engaged was that of brick making, and which together with that of
gardening, I pursued in the summer seasons almost exclusively for
five years; in all which time I was not once suspected of being an
American, yet, I must confess that my feelings were not unfrequently
most powerfully wrought upon, by hearing my countrymen dubbed with
cowardice, and by those too who had been thrice flogged or frightened
by them when attempting to ascend the heights of Bunker Hill! and to be
obliged to brook these insults with impunity, as to have resented them
would have caused me to have been suspected directly of being attached
to the American cause, which might have been attended with serious
consequences.

I should now pass over the five years that I was employed as above
mentioned, as checquered by few incidents worth relating, was it not
for one or two circumstances of some little importance that either
attended me, or came within my own personal knowledge. The reader has
undoubtedly heard that the city of London and its suburbs, is always
more or less infested with gangs of nefarious wretches, who come under
the denomination of Robbers, Pickpockets, Shoplifters, Swindlers,
Beggars, &c. who are constantly prowling the streets in disguise,
seeking opportunities to surprise and depredate on the weak and
unguarded--of these the former class form no inconsiderable portion,
who contrive to elude and set at defiance the utmost vigilance of
government--they are a class who in the day time disperse each to his
avocation, as the better to blind the scrutinizing eye of justice, they
make it a principle to follow some laborious profession, and at night
assemble to proceed on their nocturnal rounds, in quest of those whose
well stored pockets promise them a reward, equal to the risk which they
run in obtaining it. As I was one evening passing through Hyde Park,
with five guineas and a few pennies in my pockets, I was stopped by
six of these lawless footpads; who, presenting pistols to my breast,
demanded my money--fortunately for me I had previously deposited
the guineas in a private pocket of my pantaloons, for their better
security; thrusting their hands into my other pockets and finding me in
possession of but a few English pennies, they took them and decamped. I
hastened to Bow Street and lodged information of the robbery with the
officers, and who to my no little surprise informed me that mine was
the fifth instance, of information of similar robberies by the same
gang, which had been lodged with them that evening!--runners had been
sent in every direction in pursuit of them, but with what success I
could never learn.

Despairing of meeting with a favourable opportunity to return to
America, until the conclusion of peace, and the prospects of a
continuation of the war being as great then (by what I could learn) as
at any period from its commencement, I became more reconciled to my
situation, and contracted an intimacy with a young woman whose parents
were poor but respectable, and who I soon after married. I took a small
ready furnished chamber, in Red Cross Street, where with the fruits of
my hard earnings, I was enabled to live tolerable comfortable for three
or four years--when, by sickness and other unavoidable circumstances, I
was doomed to endure miseries uncommon to human nature.

In the winter of 1781, news was received in London of the surrender of
the army of Lord Cornwallis, to the French and American forces!--the
receipt of news of an event so unexpected operated on the British
ministers and members of Parliament, like a tremendous clap of
thunder--deep sorrow was evidently depicted in the countenances of
those who had been the most strenuous advocates for the war--never was
there a time in which I longed more to exult, and to declare myself a
true blooded yankee--and what was still more pleasing to me, was to
find myself even surpassed in expressions of joy and satisfaction, by
my wife, in consequence of the receipt of news, which, while it went to
establish the military fame of my countrymen, was so calculated to
humble the pride of her own! greater proofs of her regard for me and my
country I could not require.

The ministerial party in Parliament who had been the instigators of the
war, and who believed that even a view of the bright glistening muskets
and bayonets of John Bull, would frighten the leather apron Yankees to
a speedy submission, began now to harbour a more favourable opinion
of the courage of the latter. His Majesty repaired immediately to the
house of peers, and opened the sessions of parliament--warm debates
took place, on account of the ruinous manner in which the American war
was continued; but Lord North and his party appeared yet unwilling to
give up the contest. The capitulation of Cornwallis had however one
good effect, as it produced the immediate release of Mr. Laurens from
the Tower, and although it did not put an immediate end to the war, yet
all hopes of conquering America from that moment appeared to be given
up by all except North and his adherents.

There was no one engaged in the cause of America, that did more to
establish her fame in England, and to satisfy the high boasting
Britains of the bravery and unconquerable resolutions of the Yankees,
than that bold adventurer capt. Paul Jones; who, for ten or eleven
months kept all the western coast of the island in alarm--he boldly
landed at Whitehaven, where he burnt a ship in the harbour, and even
attempted to burn the town;--nor was this to my knowledge the only
instance in which the Britains were threatened with a very serious
conflagration, by the instigation of their enemies abroad--a daring
attempt was made by one James Aitkin, commonly known in London by the
name of John the Painter, to set fire to the royal dock and shipping at
Portsmouth, and would probably have succeeded, had he not imprudently
communicated his intentions to one, who, for the sake of a few guineas,
shamefully betrayed him--poor Aitkin was immediately seized, tried,
condemned, executed and hung in chains--every means was used to extort
from him a confession by whom he had been employed, but without any
success--it was however strongly suspected that he had been employed
by the French, as it was about the time that they openly declared
themselves in favour of the Americans.

With regard to Mr. Laurens, I ought to have mentioned that as soon as I
heard of his capture on his passage to Holland, and of his confinement
in the Tower, I applied for and obtained permission to visit him in
his apartment, and (with some distant hopes that he might point out
some way in which I might be enabled to return to America) I stated
to him every particular as regarded my situation. He seemed not
only to lament very much my hard fortune, but (to use his own words)
“that America should be deprived of the services of such men, at the
important period too when she most required them.”--He informed me that
he was himself held a prisoner, and knew not when or on what conditions
he would be liberated, but should he thereafter be in a situation to
assist me in obtaining a passage to America, he should consider it a
duty which he owed his country to do it.

Although I succeeded in obtaining by my industry a tolerable living
for myself and family, yet, so far from becoming reconciled to my
situation, I was impatient for the return of Peace, when (as I then
flattered myself) I should once more have an opportunity to return
to my native country. I became every day less attached to a country
where I could not meet with any thing (with the exception of my
little family) that could compensate me for the loss of the pleasing
society of my kindred and friends in America--born among a moral and
humane people, and having in my early days contracted their habits,
and a considerable number of their prejudices, it would be unnatural
to suppose that I should not prefer their society, to either that
of rogues, thieves, pimps and vagabonds, or of a more honest but an
exceedingly oppressed and forlorn people.

I found London as it had been represented to me, a large and
magnificent city, filled with inhabitants of almost every description
and occupation--and such an one indeed as might be pleasing to an
Englishman, delighting in tumult and confusion, and accustomed to
witness scenes of riot and dissipation, as well as those of human
infliction; and for the sake of variety, would be willing to imprison
himself within the walls of a Bedlam, where continual noise would
deafen him, where the unwholesomeness of the air would effect his
lungs, and where the closeness of the surrounding buildings would not
permit him to enjoy the enlivening influence of the sun! There is not
perhaps another city of its size in the whole world, the streets of
which display a greater contrast in the wealth and misery, the honesty
and knavery, of its inhabitants, than the city of London. The eyes of
the passing stranger (unaccustomed to witness such scenes) is at one
moment dazzled by the appearance of pompous wealth, with its splendid
equippage--at the next he is solicited by one apparently of the most
wretched of human beings, to impart a single penny for the relief of
his starving family! Among the latter class, there are many; however,
who so far from being the real objects of charity that they represent
themselves to be, actually possess more wealth than those who sometimes
benevolently bestow it--these vile imposters, by every species of
deception that was ever devised or practiced by man, aim to excite the
pity and compassion, and to extort charity from those unacquainted with
their easy circumstances--they possess the faculty of assuming any
character that may best suit their purpose--sometimes hobbling with a
crutch and exhibiting a wooden leg--at other times “an honourable scar
of a wound, received in Egypt, at Waterloo or at Trafalgar, fighting
for their most gracious sovereign and master King George!”

Independent of these there is another species of beggars (the gypsies)
who form a distinct clan, and will associate with none but those of
their own tribe--they are notorious thieves as well as beggars, and
constantly infest the streets of London to the great annoyance of
strangers and those who have the appearance of being wealthy--they
have no particular home or abiding place, but encamp about in open
fields or under hedges, as occasion requires--they are generally
of a yellow complexion, and converse in a dialect peculiar only to
themselves--their thieving propensities do not unfrequently lead them
to kidnap little children, whenever an opportunity presents; having
first by a dye changed their complexion to one that corresponds with
their own, they represent them as their own offspring, and carry them
about half naked on their backs to excite the pity and compassion
of those of whom they beg charity. An instance of this species of
theft by a party of these unprincipled vagabonds, occurred once in
my neighbourhood while an inhabitant of London--the little girl
kidnapped was the daughter of a Capt. Kellem of Coventry Street--being
sent abroad on some business for her parents, she was met by a gang
of Gypsies, consisting of five men and six women, who seized her,
and forcibly carried her away to their camp, in the country, at a
considerable distance, having first stripped her of her own cloathes,
and in exchange dressed her in some of their rags--thus garbed she
travelled about the country with them for nearly 7 months, and was
treated as the most abject slave, and her life threatened if she
should endeavour to escape or divulged her story;--she stated that
during the time she was with them they entrapped a little boy about
her own age, whom they also stripped and carried with them, but took
particular care he should never converse with her, treating him in the
like savage manner; she said that they generally travelled by cross
roads and private ways, ever keeping a watchful eye that she might not
escape, and that no opportunity offered until when, by some accident,
they were obliged to send her from their camp to a neighbouring farm
house, in order to procure a light, which she took advantage of; and
scrambling over hedges and ditches, as she supposed for the distance
of 8 or 9 miles, reached London worn out with fatigue and hunger, her
support with them being always scanty, and of the worst sort; to which
was added the misery of sleeping under hedges, and exposure to the
inclemency of the weather--it was the intention of the gypsies she said
to have coloured her and the boy when the walnut season approached.

The streets of London and its suburbs are also infested with another
and a still more dreadful species of rogues, denominated Footpads, and
who often murder in the most inhuman manner, for the sake of only
a few shillings, any unfortunate people who happen to fall in their
way--of this I was made acquainted with enumerable instances, while an
inhabitant of London; I shall however mention but two that I have now
recollection of:--

A Mr. Wylde while passing through Marlborough Street, in a chaise,
was stopped by a footpad, who, on demanding his money, received a few
shillings, but being dissatisfied with the little booty he obtained,
still kept a pistol at Mr. Wylde’s head, and on the latter’s attempting
gently to turn it aside, the villain fired, and lodged seven slugs in
his head and breast, which caused instant death--Mr. W. expired in the
arms of his son and grandson without a groan. A few days after as a Mr.
Greenhill was passing through York-Street in a single horse chaise, he
was met and stopped by three footpads, armed with pistols, one of them
seized and held the horse’s head, while the other two most inhumanely
dragged Mr. G. over the back of his chaise, and after robbing him of
his notes, watch and hat gave him two severe cuts on his head and
left him in that deplorable state in the road.--The above are but two
instances of hundreds of a similar nature, which yearly occur in the
most public streets of the city of London. The city is infested with a
still higher order of rogues, denominated pick-pockets or cutpurses,
who to carry on their nefarious practices, garb themselves like
gentlemen, and introduce themselves into the most fashionable circles;
many of them indeed are persons who once sustained respectable
characters, but who, by extravagance and excesses, have reduced
themselves to want and find themselves obliged at last to have recourse
to pilfering and thieving.

Thus have I endeavoured to furnish the reader with the particulars of a
few of the vices peculiar to a large portion of the inhabitants of the
city of London--to these might be added a thousand other misdemeanors
of a less criminal nature, daily practiced by striplings from the age
of six, to the hoary headed of ninety!--this I assure my readers is
a picture correctly delineated and not too highly wrought of a city
famous for its magnificence, and where I was doomed to spend more than
40 years of my life, and in which time pen, ink, and paper would fail,
were I to attempt to record the various instances of misery and want
that attended me and my poor devoted family.

In September 1783, the glorious news of a definitive treaty of Peace
having been signed between the United States and Great-Britain, was
publicly announced in London--while on the minds of those who had been
made rich by the war, the unwelcomed news operated apparently like a
paralytic stroke, a host of those whose views had been inimical to
the cause of America, and had sought refuge in England, attempted to
disguise their disappointment and dejection under a veil of assumed
cheerfulness. As regarded myself, I can only say, that had an event
so long and ardently wished for by me taken place but a few months
before, I should have hailed it as the epoch of my deliverance from a
state of oppression and privation that I had already too long endured.

An opportunity indeed now presented for me to return once more to my
native country, after so long an absence, had I possessed the means;
but much was the high price demanded for a passage, and such had been
my low wages, and the expenses attending the support of even a small
family in London, that I found myself at this time in possession of
funds hardly sufficient to defray the expense of my own passage, and
much less that of my wife and child--hence the only choice left me was
either to desert them, and thereby subject them (far separated from
one) to the frowns of an uncharitable people, or to content myself to
remain with them and partake of a portion of that wretchedness which
even my presence could not avert. When the affairs of the American
Government had become so far regulated as to support a Consul at the
British court, I might indeed have availed myself individually, of
the opportunity which presented of procuring a passage home at the
Government’s expence; but as this was a privilege that could not
be extended to my wife and child, my regard for them prevented my
embracing the only means provided by my country for the return of her
captured soldiers and seamen.

To make the best of my hard fortune, I became as resigned and
reconciled to my situation as circumstances would admit of; flattering
myself that fortune might at some unexpected moment so far decide in
my favour, as to enable me to accomplish my wishes--I indeed bore
my afflictions with a degree of fortitude which I could hardly have
believed myself possessed of--I had become an expert workman at brick
making at which business and at gardening, I continued to work for very
small wages, for three or four years after the Peace--but still found
my prospects of a speedy return to my country, by no ways flattering.
The peace had thrown thousands who had taken an active part in the
war, out of employ; London was thronged with them--who, in preference
to starving, required no other consideration for their labour than a
humble living, which had a lamentable effect in reducing the wages
of the labouring class of people; who, previous to this event were
many of them so extremely poor, as to be scarcely able to procure the
necessaries of life for their impoverished families--among this class I
must rank myself, and from this period ought I to date the commencement
of my greatest miseries, which never failed to attend me in a greater
or less degree until that happy moment, when favoured by providence, I
was permitted once more to visit the peaceful shores of the land of my
nativity.

When I first entered the city of London, I was almost stunned, while
my curiosity was not a little excited by what is termed the “cries of
London”--the streets were thronged by persons of both sexes and of
every age, crying each the various articles which they were exposing
for sale, or for jobs of work at their various occupations;--I little
then thought that this was a mode which I should be obliged myself to
adopt to obtain a scanty pittance for my needy family--but, such indeed
proved to be the case. The great increase of labourers produced by the
cessation of hostilities, had so great an effect in the reduction of
wages, that the trifling consideration now allowed me by my employers
for my services, in the line of business in which I had been several
years engaged, was no longer an object, being insufficient to enable
me to procure a humble sustenance. Having in vain sought for more
profitable business, I was induced to apply to an acquaintance for
instruction in the art of chair bottoming, and which I partially
obtained from him for a trifling consideration.

It was now (which was in the year 1789) that I assumed a line of
business very different from that in which I had ever before been
engaged--fortunately for me, I possessed strong lungs, which I found
very necessary in an employment the success of which depended, in a
great measure, in being enabled to drown the voices of others (engaged
in the same occupation) by my own--“Old Chairs to Mend,” became now
my constant cry through the streets of London, from morning to night;
and although I found my business not so profitable as I could have
wished, yet it yielded a tolerable support for my family some time,
and probably would have continued so to have done, had not the almost
constant illness of my children, rendered the expenses of my family
much greater than they otherwise would have been--thus afflicted by
additional cares and expense, (although I did every thing in my power
to avoid it) I was obliged, to alleviate the sufferings of my family,
to contract some trifling debts which it was not in my power to
discharge.

I now became the victim of additional miseries--I was visited by a
bailiff employed by a creditor, who seizing me with the claws of a
tiger, dragged me from my poor afflicted family and inhumanly thurst
me into prison! indeed no misery that I ever before endured equalled
this--separated from those dependent on me for the necessaries of
life, and placed in a situation in which it was impossible for me
to afford them any relief!--fortunately for me at this melancholly
moment, my wife enjoyed good health, and it was to her praise-worthy
exertions that her poor helpless children, as well as myself, owed
our preservation from a state of starvation!--this good woman had
become acquainted with many who had been my customers, whom she made
acquainted with my situation, and the sufferings of my family, and who
had the humanity to furnish me with work during my confinement--the
chairs were conveyed to and from the prison by my wife--in this way
I was enabled to support myself and to contribute something to
the relief of my afflicted family. I had in vain represented to my
unfeeling creditor my inability to satisfy his demands, and in vain
represented to him the suffering condition of those wholly dependent on
me; unfortunately for me, he proved to be one of those human beasts,
who, having no soul, take pleasure in tormenting that of others, who
never feel but in their own misfortunes, and never rejoice but in the
afflictions of others--of such beings, so disgraceful to human nature,
I assure the reader London contains not an inconsiderable number.

After having for four months languished in a horrid prison, I was
liberated therefrom a mere skeleton; the mind afflicted had tortured
the body; so much is the one in subjection to the other--I returned
sorrowful and dejected to my afflicted family whom I found in very
little better condition. We now from necessity took up our abode in an
obscure situation near Moorfields; where, by my constant application to
business, I succeeded in earning daily a humble pittance for my family,
bearly sufficient however to satisfy the cravings of nature; and to
add to my afflictions, some one of my family were almost constantly
indisposed.

However wretched my situation there were many others at this period,
with whom I was particularly acquainted, whose sufferings were greater
if possible than my own; and whom want and misery drove to the
commission of crimes, that in any other situation they would probably
not have been guilty of. Such was the case of the unfortunate Bellamy,
who was capitally convicted and executed for a crime which distresses
in his family, almost unexampled, had in a moment of despair, compelled
him to commit. He was one who had seen better days, was once a
commissioned officer in the army, but being unfortunate he was obliged
to quit the service to avoid the horrors of a prison, and was thrown on
the world, without a single penny or a single friend. The distresses of
his family were such, that they were obliged to live for a considerable
time deprived of all sustenance except what they could derive from
scanty and precarious meals of potatoes and milk--in this situation
his unfortunate wife was confined in child bed--lodging in an obscure
garret, she was destitute of every species of those conveniences almost
indespensable with females in her condition, being herself without
clothes, and to procure a covering for her new born infant, all their
resources were exhausted. In this situation his wife and children must
inevitably have starved, were it not for the loan of five shillings
which he walked from London to Blackheath to borrow. At his trial he
made a solemn appeal to heaven, as to the truth of every particular
as above stated--and that so far from wishing to exaggerate a single
fact, he had suppressed many more instances of calamity scarcely to be
paralleled--that after the disgrace brought upon himself by this single
transaction, life could not be a boon he would be anxious to solicit,
but that nature pleaded in his breast for a deserving wife and helpless
child--all however was ineffectual, he was condemned and executed
pursuant to his sentence.

I have yet one or two more melancholly instances of the effects of
famine to record, the first of which happened within a mile of my then
miserable habitation--a poor widow woman, who had been left destitute
with five small children, and who had been driven to the most awful
extremities by hunger, overpowered at length by the pitiful cries of
her wretched offspring, for a morsel of bread, in a fit of despair,
rushed into the shop of a baker in the neighbourhood, and seizing a
loaf of bread bore it off to the relief of her starving family, and
while in the act of dividing it among them, the baker (who had pursued
her) entered and charged her with the theft--the charge she did not
deny, but plead the starving condition of her wretched family in
palliation of the crime!--the baker noticing a platter on the table
containing a quantity of roasted meat, he pointed to it as a proof that
she could not have been driven to such an extremity by hunger--but, his
surprise may be better imagined than described, when being requested
by the half distracted mother to approach and inspect more closely
the contents of the platter, to find it to consist of the remains of
a roasted dog! and which she informed him had been her only food, and
that of her poor children, for the three preceding days!--the baker
struck with so shocking a proof of the poverty and distress of the
wretched family, humanely contributed to their relief until they were
admitted into the hospital.

I was not personally acquainted with the family, but I well knew
one who was, and who communicated to me the following melancholly
particulars of its wretched situation; and with which I now present
my readers, as another proof of the deplorable situation of the poor
in England, after the close of the American war:--The minister of a
parish was sent for to attend the funeral of a deceased person in his
neighbourhood, being conducted to the apartment which contained the
corpse (and which was the only one improved by the wretched family)
he found it so low as to be unable to stand upright in it--in a dark
corner of the room stood a three legged stool, which supported a coffin
of rough boards, and which contained the body of the wretched mother,
who had the day previous expired in labour for the want of assistance.
The father was sitting on a little stool over a few coals of fire,
and endeavouring to keep the infant warm in his bosom; five of his
seven children, half naked, were asking their father for a piece of
bread, while another about three years old was standing over the corpse
of his mother, and crying, as he was wont to do, “take me, take me,
mammy!”--“Mammy is asleep,” said one of his sisters with tears in her
eyes, “mammy is asleep, Johnny, don’t cry, the good nurse has gone to
beg you some bread and will soon return!”--In a few minutes after, an
old woman, crooked with age, and clothed in tatters came hobbling into
the room, with a two-penny loaf in her hand, and after heaving a sigh,
calmly set down, and divided the loaf as far as it would go among the
poor half famished children: and which she observed was the only food
they had tasted for the last 24 hours! By the kind interposition of the
worthy divine, a contribution was immediately raised for the relief of
this wretched family.

I might add many more melancholly instances of the extreme poverty
and distress of the wretched poor of London, and with which I was
personally acquainted; but the foregoing it is presumed will be
sufficient to satisfy the poorest class of inhabitants of America,
that, if deprived of the superfluities, so long as they can obtain
the necessaries of life, they ought not to murmur, but have reason
to thank the Almighty that they were born Americans. That one half
the world knows not how the other half lives, is a common and just
observation;--complaints and murmurs are frequent I find among those
of the inhabitants of this highly favoured country, who are not only
blessed with the liberty and means of procuring for themselves and
their families, the necessaries and comforts, but even many of the
luxuries of life!--they complain of poverty, and yet never knew what
it was to be really poor! having never either experienced or witnessed
such scenes of distress and woe as I have described, they even suppose
their imaginary wants and privations equal to those of almost any of
the human race!

Let those of my countrymen who thus imagine themselves miserable amid
plenty, cross the Atlantic and visit the miserable habitations of real
and unaffected woe--if their hearts are not destitute of feeling, they
will return satisfied to their own peaceful and happy shores, and pour
forth the ejaculations of gratitude to that universal parent, who has
given them abundance and exempted them from the thousand ills, under
the pressure of which a great portion of his children drag the load
of life. Permit me to enquire of such unreasonable murmurers, have
you compared your situation and circumstances of which you so much
complain, with that of those of your fellow creatures, who are unable
to earn by their hard labour even a scanty pittance for their starving
families? have you compared your situation and circumstances, with
that of those who have hardly ever seen the sun, but live confined in
lead mines, stone quarries, and coal pits?--before you call yourselves
wretched, take a survey of the gaols in Europe, in which wretched
beings who have been driven to the commissions of crimes by starvation,
or unfortunate and honest debtors (who have been torn from their
impoverished families) are doomed to pine.

So far from uttering unreasonable complaints, the hearts of my highly
favoured countrymen ought rather to be filled with gratitude to that
Being, by whose assistance they have been enabled to avert so many
of the miseries of life, so peculiar to a portion of the oppressed
of Europe at the present day--and who after groaning themselves for
some time under the yoke of foreign tyranny, succeeded in emancipating
themselves from slavery and are now blessed with the sweets of liberty,
and the undisturbed enjoyment of their natural rights. Britain,
imperious Britain, who once boasted the freedom of her government and
the invincible power of her arms--now finds herself reduced to the
humiliating necessity of receiving lessons of liberty from those whom
till late she despised as slaves!--while our own country on the other
hand, like a phoenix from her ashes, having emerged from a long, an
expensive and bloody war, and established a constitution upon the
broad and immovable basis of national equality, now promises to become
the permanent residence of peace, liberty, science, and national
felicity.--But, to return to the tale of my own sufferings--

While hundreds were daily becoming the wretched victims of hunger and
starvation, I was enabled by my industry to obtain a morsel each day
for my family; although this morsel, which was to be divided among
four, would many times have proved insufficient to have satisfied the
hunger of one--I seldom ever failed from morning to night to cry “old
chairs to mend,” through the principal streets of the city, but many
times with very little success--if I obtained four chairs to rebottom
in the course of one day, I considered myself fortunate indeed, but
instances of such good luck were very rare; it was more frequent that
I did not obtain a single one, and after crying the whole day until I
made myself hoarse, I was obliged to return to my poor family at night
empty handed.

So many at one time engaged in the same business, that had I not
resorted to other means my family must inevitably have starved--while
crying “old chairs to mend,” I collected all the old rags, bits of
paper, nails and broken glass which I could find in the streets,
and which I deposited in a bag, which I carried with me for that
purpose--these produced me a trifle, and that trifle when other
resources failed, procured me a morsel of bread, or a few pounds
of potatoes, for my poor wife and children--yet I murmured not as
the dispensation of the supreme Arbiter of allotments, which had
assigned to me so humbled a line of duty; although I could not have
believed once, that I should ever have been brought to such a state of
humiliating distress, as would have required such means to alleviate it.

In February 1793, War was declared by Great Britain against the
republic of France--and although war is a calamity that ought always
to be regretted by friends of humanity, as thousands are undoubtedly
thereby involved in misery; yet, no event could have happened at that
time productive of so much benefit to me, as this--it was the means
of draining the country of those who had been once soldiers, and who,
thrown out of employ by the peace, demanded a sum so trifling for their
services, as to cause a reduction in the wages of the poor labouring
class of people, to a sum insufficient to procure the necessaries of
life for their families;--this evil was now removed--the old soldiers
preferred an employment more in character of themselves, to doing
the drudgery of the city--great inducements were held out to them to
enlist, and the army was not long retarded in its operations for the
want of recruits. My prospects in being enabled to earn something to
satisfy the calls of nature, became now more flattering;--the great
number that had been employed during the Peace in a business similar
to my own, were now reduced to one half, which enabled me to obtain
such an extra number of jobs at chair mending that I no longer found
it necessary to collect the scrapings of the streets as I had been
obliged to do for the many months past. I was now enabled to purchase
for my family two or three pounds of fresh meat each week, an article
to which (with one or two exceptions) we had been strangers for more
than a year--having subsisted principally on potatoes, oat meal bread,
and salt fish, and sometimes, but rarely however, were enabled to treat
ourselves to a little skim milk.

Had not other afflictions attended me, I should not have had much
cause to complain of very extraordinary hardships or privations from
this period, until the conclusion of the war in 1817;--my family had
increased, and to increase my cares there was scarcely a week passed
but that some one of them was seriously indisposed--of ten children
of which I was the father, I had the misfortune to bury seven under
five years of age, and two more after they had arrived to the age of
twenty--my last and only child now living, it pleased the Almighty
to spare to me, to administer help and comfort to his poor afflicted
parent, and without whose assistance I should (so far from having been
enabled once more to visit the land of my nativity) ’ere this have paid
the debt of nature in a foreign land, and that too by a death no less
horrible than that of starvation!

As my life was unattended with any very extraordinary circumstance
(except the one just mentioned) from the commencement of the war,
until the re-establishment of monarchy in France, and the cessation of
hostilities on the part of Great Britain, in 1817, I shall commence on
the narration of my unparalleled sufferings, from the latter period,
until that when by the kind interposition of Providence, I was enabled
finally to obtain a passage to my native country; and to bid an adieu,
and I hope and trust a final one, to that Island, where I had endured a
complication of miseries beyond the power of description.

The peace produced similar effects to that of 1783--thousands were
thrown out of employ and the streets of London thronged with soldiers
seeking means to earn a humble subsistence. The cry of “Old Chairs to
Mend,” (and that too at a very reduced price) was reiterated through
the streets of London by numbers who but the month before were at
Waterloo fighting the battles of their country--which, so seriously
effected my business in this line, that to obtain food (and that of
the most humble kind) for my family, I was obliged once more to have
recourse to the collecting of scraps of rags, paper, glass, and such
other articles of however trifling value that I could find in the
streets.

It was at this distressing period, that, in consequence of the
impossibility of so great a number who had been discharged from the
service procuring a livelihood by honest means, that instances of
thefts, and daring robberies, increased throughout Great Britain three
fold. Bands of highwaymen and robbers hovered about the vicinity of
London in numbers which almost defied suppression; many were taken and
executed or transported; but this seemed to render the rest only the
more desperately bold and cruel, while house-breaking and assassination
were daily perpetrated with new arts and outrages in the very capital.
Nor were the starving condition of the honest poor, who were to be
met with at all times of day and in every street, seeking something
to appease their hunger, less remarkable--unable to procure by any
means within their power sustenance sufficient to support nature, some
actually became the victims of absolute starvation, as the following
melancholly instance will show:--a poor man exhausted by want; dropped
down in the street--those who were passing unacquainted with the
frequency of such melancholly events, at first thought him intoxicated;
but after languishing half an hour, he expired. On the following day,
an inquest was held on the body, and the verdict of the jury not
giving satisfaction to the Coroner, they adjourned to the next day.--In
the interim, two respectable surgeons were engaged to open the body,
in which not a particle of nutriment was to be found except a little
yellow substance, supposed to be grass, or some crude vegetable; which
the poor man had swallowed to appease the cravings of nature!--this
lamentable proof confirmed the opinion of the jury, that he died for
want of the necessaries of life, and gave their verdict accordingly.

Miserable as was the fate of this man and that of many others, mine was
but little better, and would ultimately have been the same, had it not
been for the assistance afforded me by my only remaining child, a lad
but seven years of age. I had now arrived to an advanced age of life,
and although possessing an extraordinary constitution for one of my
years, yet by my incessant labours to obtain subsistence for my family,
I brought on myself a severe fit of sickness, which confined me three
weeks to my chamber; in which time my only sustenance was the produce
of a few half pennies, which my poor wife and little son had been able
to earn each day by, disposing of matches of their own make, and in
collecting and disposing of the articles of small value, of which I
have before made mention, which were to be found thinly scattered in
the streets. In three weeks it was the will of providence so far to
restore to me my strength, as to enable me once more to move abroad in
search of something to support nature.

The tenement which I at this time rented and which was occupied by my
family, was a small and wretched apartment of a garret, and for which
I had obligated myself to pay sixpence per day, which was to be paid
at the close of every week; and in case of failure (agreeable to the
laws or customs of the land) my furniture was liable to be seized. In
consequence of my illness, and other misfortunes, I fell six weeks in
arrears for rent; and having returned one evening with my wife and son,
from the performance of our daily task, my kind readers may judge what
my feelings must have been to find our room stripped of every article
(of however trifling value) that it contained!--alas, oh heavens! to
what a state of wretchedness were we now reduced! if there was any
thing wanting to complete our misery, this additional drop to the cup
of our afflictions, more than sufficed. Although the real value of
all that they had taken from me, or rather robbed me of, would not
if publicly disposed of, have produced a sum probably exceeding five
dollars; yet it was our all, except the few tattered garments that we
had on our backs, and were serviceable and all important to us in our
impoverished situation. Not an article of bedding of any kind was left
us on which to repose at night, or a chair or stool on which we could
rest our wearied limbs! but, as destitute as we were, and naked as
they had left our dreary apartment, we had no other abiding place.

With a few half penny’s which were jointly our hard earnings of that
day, I purchased a peck of coal and a few pounds of potatoes; which
while the former furnished us with a little fire, the latter served
for the moment to appease our hunger--by a poor family in an adjoining
room I was obliged with the loan of a wooden bench, which served as a
seat and a table, from which we partook of our homely fare. In this
woeful situation, hovering over a few half consumed coals, we spent a
sleepless night. The day’s dawn brought additional afflictions--my poor
wife who had until this period borne her troubles without a sigh or a
murmur, and had passed through hardships and sorrows, which nothing but
the Supreme Giver of patience and fortitude, and her perfect confidence
in him, could have enabled her to sustain; yet so severe and unexpected
a stroke as the last, she could not withstand--I found her in the
morning gloomy and dejected, and so extremely feeble as to be hardly
able to descend the stairs.

We left our miserable habitation in the morning, with hopes that the
wretched spectacle that we presented, weak and emaciated as we were,
would move some to pity and induce them to impart that relief which
our situations so much required--it would however be almost endless
to recount the many rebuffs we met with in our attempts to crave
assistance. Some few indeed were more merciful, and whatever their
opinion might be of the cause of our misery, the distress they saw
us in excited their charity, and for their own sakes were induced
to contribute a trifle to our wants. We alternately happened among
savages and christians, but even the latter, too much influenced by
appearances, were very sparing of their bounty.

With the small trifle that had been charitably bestowed on us, we
returned at night to our wretched dwelling, which, stripped as it
had been, could promise us but little more than a shelter, and where
we spent the night very much as the preceding one.--Such was the
debilitated state of my poor wife the ensuing morning, produced by
excessive hunger and fatigue, as to render it certain, that sinking
under the weight of misery, the hand of death in mercy to her, was
about to release her from her long and unparalleled sufferings. I
should be afraid of exciting too painful sensations in the minds of my
readers, were I to attempt to describe my feelings at this moment, and
to paint in all their horror, the miseries which afterward attended
me; although so numerous had been my afflictions, that it seemed
impossible for any new calamity to be capable of augmenting them;--men
accustomed to vicissitudes are not soon dejected, but there are trials
which human nature alone cannot surmount--indeed to such a state of
wretchedness was I now reduced, that had it not been for my suffering
family, life would have been no longer desirable. The attendance that
the helpless situation of my poor wife now demanded, it was not within
my power to afford her, as early the next day I was reluctantly driven
by hunger abroad in search of something that might serve to contribute
to our relief. I left my unfortunate companion, attended by no other
person but our little son, destitute of fuel and food, and stretched
on an armful of straw, which I had been so fortunate as to provide
myself with the day preceding;--the whole produce of my labours this
day (which I may safely say was the most melancholly one of my life)
amounted to no more than one shilling! which I laid out to the best
advantage possible, in the purchase of a few of the necessaries, which
the situation of my sick companion most required.

I ought to have mentioned, that previous to this melancholy period,
when most severely afflicted, I had been two or three times driven to
the necessity of making application to the Overseers of the poor, of
the parish in which I resided, for admittance into the Almshouse, or
for some assistance, but never with any success; having always been put
off by them with some evasive answer or frivolous pretence--sometimes
charged by them with being an imposter, and that laziness more than
debility and real want, had induced me to make the application--at
other times I was told that being an American born, I had no lawful
claim on the government of that country for support; that I ought to
have made application to the American Consul for assistance, whose
business it was to assist such of his countrymen whose situations
required it.

But such now was my distress, in consequence of the extreme illness of
my wife, that I must receive that aid so indispensably necessary at
this important crisis, or subject myself to witness a scene no less
distressing, than that of my poor wretched wife, actually perishing
for the want of that care and nourishment which it was not in my power
to afford her! Thus situated I was induced to renew my application
to the Overseer for assistance, representing to him the deplorable
situation of my family, who were actually starving for the want of
that sustenance which it was not in my power to procure for them; and
what I thought would most probably effect his feelings, described
to him the peculiar and distressing situation of my wife, the hour
of whose dissolution was apparently fast approaching--but, I soon
found that I was addressing one who possessed a heart callous to the
feelings of humanity--one, whose feelings were not to be touched by a
representation of the greatest misery with which human nature could
be afflicted. The same cruel observations were made as before, that
I was a vile impostor who was seeking by imposition to obtain that
support in England, which my own country had withheld from me--that the
American Yankees had fought for and obtained their Independence, and
yet were not independent enough to support their own poor!--that Great
Britain would find enough to do, was she to afford relief to every
d--d yankee vagabond that should apply for it!--fortunately for this
abusive British scoundrel, I possessed not now that bodily strength and
activity, which I could once boast of, or the villain (whether within
his Majesty’s dominions or not) should have received on the spot a
proof of “Yankee Independence” for his insolence.

Failing in my attempts to obtain the assistance which the lamentable
situation of my wife required, I had recourse to other means--I waited
on two or three gentlemen in my neighbourhood, who had been represented
to me as persons of humanity, and entreated them to visit my wretched
dwelling, and to satisfy themselves by occular demonstration, of the
state of my wretchedness, especially that of my dying companion--they
complied with my request, and were introduced by me to a scene, which
for misery and distress, they declared surpassed every thing that they
had ever before witnessed!--they accompanied me immediately to one in
whom was invested the principal government of the poor of the parish,
and represented to him, the scene of human misery which they had been
an eye witness to--whereupon an order was issued to have my wife
conveyed to the Hospital, which was immediately done and where she was
comfortably provided for--but, alas, the relief which her situation
had so much required, had been too long deferred--her deprivation and
sufferings had been too great to admit of her being now restored to
her former state of health, or relieved by any thing that could be
administered--after her removal to the Hospital, she lingered a few
days in a state of perfect insensibility, and then closed her eyes
forever on a world, where for many years, she had been the unhappy
subject of almost constant affliction.

I felt very sensibly the irreparable loss of one who had been my
companion in adversity, as well as in prosperity; and when blessed
with health, had afforded me by her industry that assistance, without
which, the sufferings of our poor children would have been greater if
possible than what they were. My situation was now truly a lonely one,
bereaved of my wife, and all my children except one; who, although but
little more than seven years of age, was a child of that sprightliness
and activity, as to possess himself with a perfect knowledge of the
chair-bottoming business, and by which he earned not only enough (when
work could be obtained) to furnish himself with food, but contributed
much to the relief of his surviving parent, when confined by illness
and infirmity.

We continued to improve the apartment from which my wife had been
removed, until I was so fortunate as to be able to rent a ready
furnished apartment (as it was termed) at four shillings and sixpence
per week. Apartments of this kind are not uncommon in London, and are
intended to accommodate poor families, situated as we were, who had
been so unfortunate as to be stripped of every thing but the cloathes
on their backs by their unfeeling landlords. These “ready furnished
rooms” were nothing but miserable apartments in garrets, and contain
but few more conveniences than what many of our common prisons in
America afford--a bunk of straw, with two or three old blankets, a
couple of chairs, and a rough table about three feet square, with
an article or two of iron ware in which to cook our victuals (if we
should be so fortunate as to obtain any) was the contents of the “ready
furnished apartment” that we were now about to occupy--but even with
these few conveniences, it was comparatively a palace to the one we had
for several weeks past improved.

When my health would permit, I seldom failed to visit daily the most
public streets of the city, and from morning to night cry for old
chairs to mend--accompanied by my son Thomas, with a bundle of flags,
as represented in the Plate annexed to this volume. If we were so
fortunate as to obtain a job of work more than we could complete in
the day, with the permission of the owner, I would convey the chairs
on my back to my humble dwelling, and with the assistance of my little
son, improve the evening to complete the work, which would produce us
a few half pennies to purchase something for our breakfast the next
morning--but it was very seldom that instances of this kind occurred,
as it was more frequently the case that after crying for old chairs to
mend, the whole day, we were obliged to return, hungry and weary, and
without a single half penny in our pockets, to our humble dwelling,
where we were obliged to fast until the succeeding day; and indeed
there were some instances in which we were compelled to fast two or
three days successively, without being able to procure a single job
of work.--The rent I had obligated myself to pay every night, and
frequently when our hunger was such as hardly to be endured, I was
obliged to reserve the few pennies that I was possessed of to apply to
this purpose.

In our most starving condition when every other plan failed, my little
son would adopt the expedient of sweeping the public cause-ways
(leading from one walk to the other) where he would labour the whole
day, with the expectation of receiving no other reward than what the
generosity of gentlemen, who had occasion to cross, would induce
them to bestow in charity, and which seldom amounted to more than a
few pennies--sometime the poor boy would toil in this way the whole
day, without being so fortunate as to receive a single half penny--it
was then he would return home sorrowful and dejected, and while he
attempted to conceal his own hunger, with tears in his eyes, would
lament his hard fortune in not being able to obtain something to
appease mine.--While he was thus employed I remained at home, but not
idle, being as busily engaged in making matches, with which (when he
returned home empty handed) we were obliged as fatigued as we were,
to visit the markets to expose for sale, and where we were obliged
sometimes to tarry until eleven o’clock at night, before we could meet
with a single purchaser.

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.”

Although but a few moments previous, my son would have thought no
sacrifice too great, that would have enabled us to effect our object
in obtaining passages to America; yet, when he found that instead of
himself, I was to be left for a while behind, he appeared at some loss
how to determine--but on being assured by the Consul that if my life
was spared I should soon join him, he consented; and being furnished
by the Consul with a few necessary articles of cloathing, I the next
day accompanied him on board the packet which was to convey him to
America--and after giving him the best advice that I was capable of as
regarded his behaviour and deportment while on his passage, and on his
arrival in America, I took my leave of him and saw him not again until
I met him on the wharf on my arrival at Boston.

When I parted with the Consul he presented me with half a crown, and
directions where to apply for board--it was at a public Inn where I
found many American seamen, who, like myself, were boarded there at
the Consul’s expence, until passages could be obtained for them to
America--I was treated by them with much civility, and by hearing them
daily recount their various and remarkable adventures, as well as by
relating my own, I passed my time more agreeably than what I probably
should have done in other society.

In eight weeks I was so far recruited by good living, as in the
opinion of the Consul, to be able to endure the fatigues of a passage
to my native country, and which was procured for me on board the ship
Carterian, bound to New-York. We set sail on the 5th April, 1823, and
after a passage of 42 days, arrived safe at our port of destination.
After having experienced in a foreign land so much ill-treatment from
those from whom I could expect no mercy, and for no other fault than
that of being an American, I could not but flatter myself that when
I bid adieu to that country, I should no longer be the subject of
unjust persecution, or have occasion to complain of ill treatment from
those whose duty it was to afford me protection. But the sad reverse
which I experienced while on board the Carterian, convinced me of the
incorrectness of my conclusions. For my country’s sake, I am happy
that I have it in my power to say that the crew of this ship, was not
composed altogether of Americans--there was a mixture of all nations;
and among them some so vile, and destitute of every humane principle,
as to delight in nothing so much as to sport with the infirmities of
one, whose grey locks ought at least to have protected him. By these
unfeeling wretches (who deserve not the name of sailors) I was not
only most shamefully ill-used on the passage, but was robbed of some
necessary articles of cloathing, which had been charitably bestowed on
me by the American Consul.

We arrived in the harbour of New-York about midnight, and such were the
pleasing sensations produced by the reflection that on the morrow I
should be indulged with the priviledge of walking once more on American
ground after an absence of almost 50 years, and that but a short
distance now separated me from my dear son, that it was in vain that I
attempted to close my eyes to sleep. Never was the morning’s dawn so
cheerfully welcomed by me. I solicited and obtained the permission of
the captain to be early set on shore, and on reaching which, I did not
forget to offer up my unfeigned thanks to that Almighty Being, who
had not only sustained me during my heavy afflictions abroad, but had
finally restored me to my native country. The pleasure that I enjoyed
in viewing the streets thronged by those, who, although I could not
claim as acquaintances, I could greet as my countrymen, was unbounded,
I felt a regard for almost every object that met my eyes, because it
was American.

Great as was my joy on finding myself once more among my countrymen, I
felt not a little impatient for the arrival of the happy moment when I
should be able to meet my son. Agreeable to the orders which I received
from the American Consul, I applied to the Custom House in New-York
for a passage from thence to Boston, and with which I was provided on
board a regular packet which sailed the morning ensuing--in justice to
the captain, I must say that I was treated by him as well as by all
on board, with much civility. We arrived at the Long Wharf in Boston
after a short and pleasant passage. I had been informed by the Consul,
previous to leaving London, of the name of the gentleman with whom my
son probably lived, and a fellow passenger on board the packet was so
good as to call on and inform him of my arrival--in less than fifteen
minutes after receiving the information my son met me on the wharf!
Reader, you will not believe it possible for me to describe my feelings
correctly at this joyful moment! if you are a parent, you may have some
conception of them; but a faint one however unless you and an only and
beloved child have been placed in a similar situation.

After acquainting myself with the state of my boy’s health, &c. my
next enquiry was whether he found the country as it had been described
by me, and how he esteemed it--“well, extremely well (was his reply)
since my arrival I have fared like a Prince, I have meat every day, and
have feasted on American puddings and pies (such as you used to tell
me about) until I have become almost sick of them!” I was immediately
conducted by him to the house of the gentleman with whom he lived, and
by whom I was treated with much hospitality--in the afternoon of the
day succeeding (by the earnest request of my son) I visited Bunker
Hill, which he had a curiosity to view, having heard it so frequently
spoken of by me while in London, as the place where the memorable
battle was fought and in which I received my wounds.

I continued in Boston about a fortnight, and then set out on foot
to visit once more my native State. My son accompanied me as far as
Roxbury, when I was obliged reluctantly to part with him, and proceeded
myself no farther on my journey that day than Jamaica plains, where at
a public house I tarried all night--from thence I started early the
next morning and reached Providence about 5 o’-clock in the afternoon,
and obtained lodgings at a public Inn in High-Street.

It may not be improper here to acquaint my readers that as I had left
my father possessed of very considerable property, and of which at his
decease I thought myself entitled to a portion equal to that of other
children, which (as my father was very economical in the management
of his affairs) I knew could not amount to a very inconsiderable sum,
it was to obtain this if possible, that I became extremely anxious to
visit immediately the place of my nativity--accordingly the day after
I arrived in Providence, I hastened to Cranston, to seek my connexions
if any were to be found; and if not to seek among the most aged of
the inhabitants, some one who had not forgotten me, and who might be
able to furnish me with the sought for information. But, alas, too
soon were blasted my hopeful expectations of finding something in
reserve for me, that might have afforded me a humble support, the few
remaining years of my life. It was by a distant connection that I was
informed that my brothers had many years since removed to a distant
part of the country--that having credited a rumour in circulation of
my death, at the decease of my father had disposed of the real estate
of which he died possessed, and had divided the proceeds equally among
themselves! This was another instance of adverse fortune that I had
not anticipated!--it was indeed a circumstance so foreign from my mind
that I felt myself for the first time, unhappy, since my return to my
native country, and even believed myself now doomed to endure, among my
own countrymen (for whose liberties I had fought and bled) miseries
similar to those that had attended me for many years in Europe. With
these gloomy forebodings I returned to Providence, and contracted for
board with the gentleman at whose house I had lodged the first night
of my arrival in town, and to whom for the kind treatment that I have
received from him and his family, I shall feel till death under the
deepest obligations that gratitude can dictate; for I can truly say of
him, that I was a stranger and he took me in, I was hungry and naked,
and he fed and cloathed me.

As I had never received any remuneration for services rendered, and
hardships endured in the cause of my country, I was now obliged, as
my last resort, to petition Congress to be included in that number
of the few surviving soldiers of the Revolution, for whose services
they had been pleased to grant pensions--and I would to God that I
could add, for the honour of my country, that the application met with
its deserving success--but, although accompanied by the deposition
of a respectable gentleman (which deposition I have thought proper
to annex to my narrative) satisfactorily confirming every fact as
therein stated--yet, on no other principle, than that _I was absent
from the country when the pension law passed_--my Petition was
REJECTED!!! Reader, I have been for 30 years (as you will perceive by
what I have stated in the foregoing pages) subject, in a _foreign_
country, to almost all the miseries with which poor human nature is
capable of being inflicted--yet, in no one instance did I ever feel
so great degree of a depression of spirits, as when the fate of my
Petition was announced to me! I love too well the country which gave
me birth, and entertain too high a respect for those employed in its
government, to reproach them with ingratitude; yet, it is my sincere
prayer that this strange and unprecedented circumstance, of withholding
from me that reward which they have so generally bestowed on others,
may never be told in Europe, or published in the streets of London,
least it reach the ears of some who had the effrontery to declare
to me personally, that for the active part that I had taken in the
“rebellious war” misery and starvation would ultimately be my reward!

To conclude--although I may be again unfortunate in a renewal of my
application to government, for that reward to which my services so
justly entitle me--yet I feel thankful that I am priviledged (after
enduring so much) to spend the remainder of my days, among those who
I am confident are possessed of too much humanity, to see me suffer;
and which I am sensible I owe to the divine goodness, which graciously
condescended to support me under my numerous afflictions, and finally
enabled me to return to my native country in the 79th year of my
age--for this I return unfeigned thanks to the Almighty; and hope to
give during the remainder of my life, convincing testimonies of the
strong impression which those afflictions made on my mind, by devoting
myself sincerely to the duties of religion.




DEPOSITION OF JOHN VIAL


I JOHN VIAL of North Providence, in the county of Providence,
in the State of Rhode Island, on oath certify and say, that sometime in
the latter part of November or the beginning of December A.D.
1775, I entered as gunner’s mate on board the Washington, a public
armed vessel in the service of the United States, and under the command
of S. Martindale, Esq.--said vessel was sent out by order of General
WASHINGTON, from Plymouth (Mass.) to cruise in Boston harbour
to intercept supplies going to Boston, then in the possession of the
British troops. After we had been out a short time, we were captured by
a British 20 gun ship, called the “Foy,” and were carried to Boston,
where we remained about a week and were then put on board the frigate
Tartar, and sent to England as prisoners--and I the said John further
testify and say, that I well remember Israel R. Potter, now residing in
Cranston, who was a mariner on board the Washington also--said Potter
entered about the time I did and was captured and carried to England
with me. We arrived in England in January 1776, we were then put into
the Hospital, the greater part of the crew being sick in consequence
of the confinement during the voyage, where many died--I remained in
imprisonment about sixteen months when I made my escape--what became
of said Potter afterwards I do not know but I have not the least
doubt he remained a prisoner until the peace 1783 as he stated in his
application for a pension--I have no doubt he suffered a great deal
during his captivity. According to my best recollection nearly one
third of the crew died in the hospital--I do remember an affair which
took place during our voyage to England which caused Potter to suffer a
great deal more than perhaps he otherwise would--a number of the crew
of the Washington formed a plan to rise and take the Frigate but was
defeated in their purpose, among whom I believe Potter was one, and in
consequence, put in irons for the remaining part of the voyage with a
number of others. And I the said John do further testify that I do not
know of any of the said crew of the Washington now being alive except
said Potter and myself--and that I do not believe it to be in the power
of said Potter to procure any other testimony of the above mentioned
facts except mine.

  JOHN VIAL.

Rhode Island District--Providence Aug. 6, 1823.

       *       *       *       *       *

The said John Vial, who is well known to me and is a creditable
witness, made solemn oath to the truth of the foregoing deposition by
him subscribed in my presence.

  DAVID HOWELL.
  DISTRICT JUDGE.




APPENDIX


Herman Melville first conceived of retelling the tale of Israel Potter,
the “Revolutionary beggar,” in 1849 after coming upon a tattered copy
of the original book. When he finally wrote his own account in 1854, he
drew as well on the narratives of Ethan Allen and Nathaniel Fanning,
who had served under John Paul Jones, and he had himself visited London.

While the real Israel Potter devoted half of his personal history to
his years in London following the Revolutionary War, Melville retold
these events in a few brief concluding chapters to his own volume,
_Israel Potter, His Fifty Years of Exile_. Melville’s chapters are
reproduced from the 1855 first edition to give a comparative view of
the tragedy of Potter’s life as seen by himself and by Herman Melville,
a quarter of a century later.




  ISRAEL POTTER:
  His Fifty Years of Exile.

  By
  HERMAN MELVILLE,

  AUTHOR OF “TYPEE,” “OMOO,” ETC.

  New York:
  G. P. PUTNAM & CO., 10 PARK PLACE.
  1855.




TO

HIS HIGHNESS

THE

Bunker-Hill Monument.


Biography, in its purer form, confined to the ended lives of the true
and brave, may be held the fairest meed of human virtue--one given and
received in entire disinterestedness--since neither can the biographer
hope for acknowledgment from the subject, nor the subject at all avail
himself of the biographical distinction conferred.

Israel Potter well merits the present tribute--a private of Bunker
Hill, who for his faithful services was years ago promoted to a still
deeper privacy under the ground, with a posthumous pension, in default
of any during life, annually paid him by the spring in ever-new mosses
and sward.

I am the more encouraged to lay this performance at the feet of
your Highness, because, with a change in the grammatical person, it
preserves, almost as in a reprint, Israel Potter’s autobiographical
story. Shortly after his return in infirm old age to his native land, a
little narrative of his adventures, forlornly published on sleazy gray
paper, appeared among the peddlers, written, probably, not by himself,
but taken down from his lips by another. But like the crutch-marks
of the cripple by the Beautiful Gate, this blurred record is now out
of print. From a tattered copy, rescued by the merest chance from
the rag-pickers, the present account has been drawn, which, with the
exception of some expansions, and additions of historic and personal
details, and one or two shiftings of scene, may, perhaps, be not
unfitly regarded something in the light of a dilapidated old tombstone
retouched.

Well aware that in your Highness’ eyes the merit of the story must be
in its general fidelity to the main drift of the original narrative,
I forbore anywhere to mitigate the hard fortunes of my hero; and
particularly towards the end, though sorely tempted, durst not
substitute for the allotment of Providence any artistic recompense
of poetical justice; so that no one can complain of the gloom of my
closing chapters more profoundly than myself.

Such is the work, and such the man, that I have the honor to present
to your Highness. That the name here noted should not have appeared
in the volumes of Sparks, may or may not be a matter for astonishment;
but Israel Potter seems purposely to have waited to make his popular
advent under the present exalted patronage, seeing that your Highness,
according to the definition above, may, in the loftiest sense, be
deemed the Great Biographer: the national commemorator of such of the
anonymous privates of June 17, 1775, who may never have received other
requital than the solid reward of your granite.

Your Highness will pardon me, if, with the warmest ascriptions on
this auspicious occasion, I take the liberty to mingle my hearty
congratulations on the recurrence of the anniversary day we celebrate,
wishing your Highness (though indeed your Highness be somewhat
prematurely gray) many returns of the same, and that each of its
summer’s suns may shine as brightly on your brow as each winter snow
shall lightly rest on the grave of Israel Potter.

  Your Highness’
      Most devoted and obsequious,
                           THE EDITOR.

  JUNE 17TH, 1854.




CHAPTER XXVI.

FORTY-FIVE YEARS.


For the most part, what befell Israel during his forty years wanderings
in the London deserts, surpassed the forty years in the natural
wilderness of the outcast Hebrews under Moses.

In that London fog, went before him the ever-present cloud by day, but
no pillar of fire by the night, except the cold column of the monument,
two hundred feet beneath the mocking gilt flames on whose top, at the
stone base, the shiverer, of midnight, often laid down.

But these experiences, both from their intensity and his solitude, were
necessarily squalid. Best not enlarge upon them. For just as extreme
suffering, without hope, is intolerable to the victim, so, to others,
is its depiction without some corresponding delusive mitigation. The
gloomiest and truthfulest dramatist seldom chooses for his theme the
calamities, however extraordinary, of inferior and private persons;
least of all, the pauper’s; admonished by the fact, that to the craped
palace of the king lying in state, thousands of starers shall throng;
but few feel enticed to the shanty, where, like a pealed knuckle-bone,
grins the unupholstered corpse of the beggar.

Why at one given stone in the flagging does man after man cross yonder
street? What plebeian Lear or Œdipus, what Israel Potter, cowers
there by the corner they shun? From this turning point, then, we too
cross over and skim events to the end; omitting the particulars of
the starveling’s wrangling with rats for prizes in the sewers; or his
crawling into an abandoned doorless house in St. Giles’, where his
hosts were three dead men, one pendant; into another of an alley nigh
Houndsditch, where the crazy hovel, in phosphoric rottenness, fell
sparkling on him one pitchy midnight, and he received that injury,
which, excluding activity for no small part of the future, was an added
cause of his prolongation of exile, besides not leaving his faculties
unaffected by the concussion of one of the rafters on his brain.

But these were some of the incidents not belonging to the beginning
of his career. On the contrary, a sort of humble prosperity attended
him for a time; insomuch that once he was not without hopes of being
able to buy his homeward passage so soon as the war should end. But,
as stubborn fate would have it, being run over one day at Holborn
Bars, and taken into a neighboring bakery, he was there treated with
such kindliness by a Kentish lass, the shop-girl, that in the end
he thought his debt of gratitude could only be repaid by love. In a
word, the money saved up for his ocean voyage was lavished upon a rash
embarkation in wedlock.

Originally he had fled to the capital to avoid the dilemma of
impressment or imprisonment. In the absence of other motives, the dread
of those hardships would have fixed him there till the peace. But now,
when hostilities were no more, so was his money. Some period elapsed
ere the affairs of the two governments were put on such a footing as
to support an American consul at London. Yet, when this came to pass,
he could only embrace the facilities for a return here furnished, by
deserting a wife and child, wedded and born in the enemy’s land.

The peace immediately filled England, and more especially London, with
hordes of disbanded soldiers; thousands of whom, rather than starve,
or turn highwaymen (which no few of their comrades did, stopping
coaches at times in the most public streets), would work for such
a pittance as to bring down the wages of all the laboring classes.
Neither was our adventurer the least among the sufferers. Driven out
of his previous employ--a sort of porter in a river-side warehouse--by
this sudden influx of rivals, destitute, honest men like himself, with
the ingenuity of his race, he turned his hand to the village art of
chair-bottoming. An itinerant, he paraded the streets with the cry
of “Old chairs to mend!” furnishing a curious illustration of the
contradictions of human life; that he who did little but trudge, should
be giving cosy seats to all the rest of the world. Meantime, according
to another well-known Malthusian enigma in human affairs, his family
increased. In all, eleven children were born to him in certain sixpenny
garrets in Moorfields. One after the other, ten were buried.

When chair-bottoming would fail, resort was had to match-making. That
business being overdone in turn, next came the cutting of old rags,
bits of paper, nails, and broken glass. Nor was this the last step.
From the gutter he slid to the sewer. The slope was smooth. In poverty,

  ----“Facilis descensus Averni.”

But many a poor soldier had sloped down there into the boggy canal of
Avernus before him. Nay, he had three corporals and a sergeant for
company.

But his lot was relieved by two strange things, presently to appear.
In 1793 war again broke out, the great French war. This lighted London
of some of its superfluous hordes, and lost Israel the subterranean
society of his friends, the corporals and sergeant, with whom wandering
forlorn through the black kingdoms of mud, he used to spin yarns about
sea prisoners in hulks, and listen to stories of the Black Hole of
Calcutta; and often would meet other pairs of poor soldiers, perfect
strangers, at the more public corners and intersections of sewers--the
Charing-Crosses below; one soldier having the other by his remainder
button, earnestly discussing the sad prospects of a rise in bread, or
the tide; while through the grating of the gutters overhead, the rusty
skylights of the realm, came the hoarse rumblings of bakers’ carts,
with splashes of the flood whereby these unsuspected gnomes of the city
lived.

Encouraged by the exodus of the lost tribes of soldiers, Israel
returned to chair-bottoming. And it was in frequenting Covent-Garden
market, at early morning, for the purchase of his flags, that he
experienced one of the strange alleviations hinted of above. That
chatting with the ruddy, aproned, hucksterwomen, on whose moist cheeks
yet trickled the dew of the dawn on the meadows; that being surrounded
by bales of hay, as the raker by cocks and ricks in the field; those
glimpses of garden produce, the blood-beets, with the damp earth still
tufting the roots; that mere handling of his flags, and bethinking
him of whence they must have come, the green hedges through which the
wagon that brought them had passed; that trudging home with them as a
gleaner with his sheaf of wheat;--all this was inexpressibly grateful.
In want and bitterness, pent in, perforce, between dingy walls, he had
rural returns of his boyhood’s sweeter days among them; and the hardest
stones of his solitary heart (made hard by bare endurance alone) would
feel the stir of tender but quenchless memories, like the grass of
deserted flagging, upsprouting through its closest seams. Sometimes,
when incited by some little incident, however trivial in itself,
thoughts of home would--either by gradually working and working upon
him, or else by an impetuous rush of recollection--overpower him for a
time to a sort of hallucination.

Thus was it:--One fair half-day in the July of 1800, by good luck, he
was employed, partly out of charity, by one of the keepers, to trim the
sward in an oval enclosure within St. James’ Park, a little green but
a three-minutes’ walk along the gravelled way from the brick-besmoked
and grimy Old Brewery of the palace which gives its ancient name to
the public resort on whose borders it stands. It was a little oval,
fenced in with iron pailings, between whose bars the imprisoned verdure
peered forth, as some wild captive creature of the woods from its cage.
And alien Israel there--at times staring dreamily about him--seemed
like some amazed runaway steer, or trespassing Pequod Indian, impounded
on the shores of Narraganset Bay, long ago; and back to New England
our exile was called in his soul. For still working, and thinking of
home; and thinking of home, and working amid the verdant quietude of
this little oasis, one rapt thought begat another, till at last his
mind settled intensely, and yet half humorously, upon the image of Old
Huckleberry, his mother’s favorite old pillion horse; and, ere long,
hearing a sudden scraping noise (some hob-shoe without, against the
iron pailing), he insanely took it to be Old Huckleberry in his stall,
hailing him (Israel) with his shod fore-foot clattering against the
planks--his customary trick when hungry--and so, down goes Israel’s
hook, and with a tuft of white clover, impulsively snatched, he
hurries away a few paces in obedience to the imaginary summons. But
soon stopping midway, and forlornly gazing round at the enclosure, he
bethought him that a far different oval, the great oval, of the ocean,
must be crossed ere his crazy errand could be done; and even then,
Old Huckleberry would be found long surfeited with clover, since,
doubtless, being dead many a summer, he must be buried beneath it.
And many years after, in a far different part of the town, and in far
less winsome weather too, passing with his bundle of flags through
Red-Cross street, towards Barbican, in a fog so dense that the dimmed
and massed blocks of houses, exaggerated by the loom, seemed shadowy
ranges on ranges of midnight hills, he heard a confused pastoral sort
of sounds--tramplings, lowings, halloos--and was suddenly called to by
a voice to head off certain cattle, bound to Smithfield, bewildered
and unruly in the fog. Next instant he saw the white face--white as
an orange-blossom--of a black-bodied steer, in advance of the drove,
gleaming ghost-like through the vapors; and presently, forgetting his
limp, with rapid shout and gesture, he was more eager, even than the
troubled farmers, their owners, in driving the riotous cattle back
into Barbican. Monomaniac reminiscences were in him--“To the right, to
the right!” he shouted, as, arrived at the street corner, the farmers
beat the drove to the left, towards Smithfield: “To the right! you are
driving them back to the pastures--to the right! that way lies the
barn-yard!” “Barn-yard?” cried a voice; “you are dreaming, old man.”
And so, Israel, now an old man, was bewitched by the mirage of vapors;
he had dreamed himself home into the mists of the Housatonic mountains;
ruddy boy on the upland pastures again. But how different the flat,
apathetic, dead, London fog now seemed from those agile mists which,
goat-like, climbed the purple peaks, or in routed armies of phantoms,
broke down, pell-mell, dispersed in flight upon the plain, leaving the
cattle-boy loftily alone, clear-cut as a balloon against the sky.

In 1817 he once more endured extremity; this second peace again
drifting its discharged soldiers on London, so that all kinds of labor
were overstocked. Beggars, too, lighted on the walks like locusts.
Timber-toed cripples stilted along, numerous as French peasants in
_sabots_. And, as thirty years before, on all sides, the exile
had heard the supplicatory cry, not addressed to him, “An honorable
scar, your honor, received at Bunker Hill, or Saratoga, or Trenton,
fighting for his most gracious Majesty, King George!” so now, in
presence of the still surviving Israel, our Wandering Jew, the amended
cry was anew taken up, by a succeeding generation of unfortunates, “An
honorable scar, your honor, received at Corunna, or at Waterloo, or at
Trafalgar!” Yet not a few of these petitioners had never been outside
of the London smoke; a sort of crafty aristocracy in their way, who,
without having endangered their own persons much if anything, reaped no
insignificant share both of the glory and profit of the bloody battles
they claimed; while some of the genuine working heroes, too brave
to beg, too cut-up to work, and too poor to live, laid down quietly
in corners and died. And here it may be noted, as a fact nationally
characteristic, that however desperately reduced at times, even to
the sewers, Israel, the American, never sunk below the mud, to actual
beggary.

Though henceforth elbowed out of many a chance threepenny job by
the added thousands who contended with him against starvation,
nevertheless, somehow he continued to subsist, as those tough old oaks
of the cliffs, which, though hacked at by hail-stones of tempests, and
even wantonly maimed by the passing woodman, still, however cramped
by rival trees and fettered by rocks, succeed, against all odds, in
keeping the vital nerve of the tap-root alive. And even towards the
end, in his dismallest December, our veteran could still at intervals
feel a momentary warmth in his topmost boughs. In his Moorfields’
garret, over a handful of reignited cinders (which the night before
might have warmed some lord), cinders raked up from the streets, he
would drive away dolor, by talking with his one only surviving, and now
motherless child--the spared Benjamin of his old age--of the far Canaan
beyond the sea; rehearsing to the lad those well-remembered adventures
among New England hills, and painting scenes of nestling happiness and
plenty, in which the lowliest shared. And here, shadowy as it was, was
the second alleviation hinted of above.

To these tales of the Fortunate Isles of the Free, recounted by one who
had been there, the poor enslaved boy of Moorfields listened, night
after night, as to the stories of Sinbad the Sailor. When would his
father take him there? “Some day to come, my boy,” would be the hopeful
response of an unhoping heart. And “Would God it were to-morrow!” would
be the impassioned reply.

In these talks Israel unconsciously sowed the seeds of his eventual
return. For with added years, the boy felt added longing to escape his
entailed misery, by compassing for his father and himself a voyage to
the Promised Land. By his persevering efforts he succeeded at last,
against every obstacle, in gaining credit in the right quarter to his
extraordinary statements. In short, charitably stretching a technical
point, the American Consul finally saw father and son embarked in the
Thames for Boston.

It was the year 1826; half a century since Israel, in early manhood,
had sailed a prisoner in the Tartar frigate from the same port to which
he now was bound. An octogenarian as he recrossed the brine, he showed
locks besnowed as its foam. White-haired old Ocean seemed as a brother.




CHAPTER XXVII.

REQUIESCAT IN PACE.


It happened that the ship, gaining her port, was moored to the dock
on a Fourth of July; and half an hour after landing, hustled by the
riotous crowd near Faneuil Hall, the old man narrowly escaped being run
over by a patriotic triumphal car in the procession, flying a broidered
banner, inscribed with gilt letters:

  “BUNKER-HILL
  1775.
  GLORY TO THE HEROES THAT FOUGHT!”

It was on Copps’ Hill, within the city bounds, one of the enemy’s
positions during the fight, that our wanderer found his best repose
that day. Sitting down here on a mound in the graveyard, he looked
off across Charles River towards the battle-ground, whose incipient
monument, at that period, was hard to see, as a struggling sprig of
corn in a chilly spring. Upon those heights, fifty years before, his
now feeble hands had wielded both ends of the musket. There too he
had received that slit upon the chest, which afterwards, in the affair
with the Serapis, being traversed by a cutlass wound, made him now the
bescarred bearer of a cross.

For a long time he sat mute, gazing blankly about him. The sultry
July day was waning. His son sought to cheer him a little ere rising
to return to the lodging for the present assigned them by the
ship-captain. “Nay,” replied the old man, “I shall get no fitter rest
than here by the mounds.”

But from this true “Potter’s Field,” the boy at length drew him away;
and encouraged next morning by a voluntary purse made up among the
reassembled passengers, father and son started by stage for the country
of the Housatonic. But the exile’s presence in these old mountain
townships proved less a return than a resurrection. At first, none knew
him, nor could recall having heard of him. Ere long it was found, that
more than thirty years previous, the last known survivor of his family
in that region, a bachelor, following the example of three-fourths of
his neighbors, had sold out and removed to a distant country in the
west; where exactly, none could say.

He sought to get a glimpse of his father’s homestead. But it had been
burnt down long ago. Accompanied by his son, dim-eyed and dim-hearted,
he next went to find the site. But the roads had years before been
changed. The old road was now browsed over by sheep; the new one ran
straight through what had formerly been orchards. But new orchards,
planted from other suckers, and in time grafted, throve on sunny
slopes near by, where blackberries had once been picked by the bushel.
At length he came to a field waving with buckwheat. It seemed one of
those fields which himself had often reaped. But it turned out, upon
inquiry, that but three summers since a walnut grove had stood there.
Then he vaguely remembered that his father had sometimes talked of
planting such a grove, to defend the neighboring fields against the
cold north wind; yet where precisely that grove was to have been, his
shattered mind could not recall. But it seemed not unlikely that during
his long exile, the walnut grove had been planted and harvested, as
well as the annual crops preceding and succeeding it, on the very same
soil.

Ere long, on the mountain side, he passed into an ancient natural
wood, which seemed some way familiar, and midway in it, paused to
contemplate a strange, mouldy pile, resting at one end against a sturdy
beech. Though wherever touched by his staff; however lightly, this pile
would crumble, yet here and there, even in powder, it preserved the
exact look, each irregularly defined line, of what it had originally
been--namely, a half-cord of stout hemlock (one of the woods least
affected by exposure to the air), in a foregoing generation chopped
and stacked up on the spot, against sledging-time, but, as sometimes
happens in such cases, by subsequent oversight, abandoned to oblivious
decay--type now, as it stood there, of forever arrested intentions, and
a long life still rotting in early mishap.

“Do I dream?” mused the bewildered old man, “or what is this vision
that comes to me of a cold, cloudy morning, long, long ago, and I
heaving yon elbowed log against the beech, then a sapling? Nay, nay, I
cannot be so old.”

“Come away, father, from this dismal, damp wood,” said his son, and led
him forth.

Blindly ranging to and fro, they next saw a man ploughing. Advancing
slowly, the wanderer met him by a little heap of ruinous burnt masonry,
like a tumbled chimney, what seemed the jams of the fire-place,
now aridly stuck over here and there, with thin, clinging, round,
prohibitory mosses, like executors’ wafers. Just as the oxen were bid
stand, the stranger’s plough was hitched over sideways, by sudden
contact with some sunken stone at the ruin’s base.

“There, this is the twentieth year my plough has struck this old
hearthstone. Ah, old man,--sultry day, this.”

“Whose house stood here, friend?” said the wanderer, touching the
half-buried hearth with his staff, where a fresh furrow overlapped it.

“Don’t know; forget the name; gone West, though, I believe. You know
’em?”

But the wanderer made no response; his eye was now fixed on a curious
natural bend or wave in one of the bemossed stone jambs.

“What are you looking at so, father?”

“‘_Father!_’ Here,” raking with his staff, “_my_ father would
sit, and here, my mother, and here I, little infant, would totter
between, even as now, once again, on the very same spot, but in the
unroofed air, I do. The ends meet. Plough away, friend.”

Best followed now is this life, by hurrying, like itself, to a close.

Few things remain.

He was repulsed in efforts after a pension by certain caprices of law.
His scars proved his only medals. He dictated a little book, the record
of his fortunes. But long ago it faded out of print--himself out of
being--his name out of memory. He died the same day that the oldest oak
on his native hills was blown down.


THE END.




THE AMERICAN EXPERIENCE SERIES


  AE 1 THE NARRATIVE OF COLONEL ETHAN ALLEN. Revolutionary
  War experiences of the “Hero of Fort Ticonderoga” and “The Green
  Mountain Boys.” Introduction by Brooke Hindle.

  AE 2 JOHN WOOLMAN’S JOURNAL _and_ A PLEA FOR
  THE POOR. The spiritual autobiography of the great Colonial
  Quaker. Introduction by Frederick B. Tolles.

  AE 3 THE LIFE OF MRS. MARY JEMISON by James E. Seaver.
  The famous Indian captivity narrative of the “White Woman of the
  Genesee.” Introduction by Allen W. Trelease.

  AE 4 BROOK FARM by Lindsay Swift. America’s most
  unusual experiment in establishing the ideal society during the
  Transcendentalist 1840’s. Introduction by Joseph Schiffman.

  AE 5 FOUR VOYAGES TO THE NEW WORLD by Christopher
  Columbus. Selected letters and documents translated and edited by
  R. H. Major. Introduction by John E. Fagg.

  AE 6 JOURNALS OF MAJOR ROBERT ROGERS. Frontier
  campaigning during the French and Indian Wars by the
  organizer of “Rogers’ Rangers.” Introduction by Howard H. Peckham.

  AE 7 HARRIET TUBMAN, THE MOSES OF HER PEOPLE by Sarah
  Bradford. The heroic life of a former slave’s struggle for her
  people. Introduction by Butler A. Jones.

  AE 8 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE JERSEY PRISON SHIP by Albert
  Greene. The “Andersonville” of the Revolutionary War. Introduction
  by Lawrence H. Leder.

  AE 9 A NEW ENGLAND GIRLHOOD by Lucy Larcom. A classic
  memoir of life in pre-Civil War America. Introduction by Charles T.
  Davis.

  AE 10 AMERICAN COMMUNITIES by William Alfred Hinds. First
  hand account of the 19th century utopias--Economy, Amana, Shakers,
  etc. Introduction by Henry Bamford Parkes.

  AE 11 INTELLECTUAL ORIGINS OF AMERICAN NATIONAL THOUGHT.
  Edited, with commentary, by Wilson Ober Clough. Pages from the
  books our Founding Fathers read. Second, revised edition.

  AE 12 LEAGUE OF THE IROQUOIS by Lewis Henry Morgan. The
  first scientific account of an American Indian tribe by the father
  of American ethnology. Introduction by William N. Fenton.

  AE 13 MY CAPTIVITY AMONG THE SIOUX INDIANS by Fanny Kelly.
  A pioneer woman’s harrowing story of frontier days. Introduction by
  Jules Zanger.

  AE 14 JOUTEL’S JOURNAL OF LA SALLE’S LAST VOYAGE. The
  Mississippi exploration (1684-7) which ended in La Salle’s murder.
  Introduction by Darrett B. Rutman.

  AE 15 THE DISCOVERY, SETTLEMENT AND PRESENT STATE OF
  KENTUCKE ... by John Filson. The historic post-Revolutionary
  description, which includes Daniel Boone’s memoir. Introduction by
  William H. Masterson.

  AE 16 THE LIFE AND REMARKABLE ADVENTURES OF ISRAEL R.
  POTTER. The autobiography of America’s first tragic hero--the
  basis for Melville’s famous novel. Introduction by Leonard Kriegel.

  AE 17 EXCURSIONS by Henry David Thoreau. The famous
  posthumous collection, including a biography by Ralph Waldo
  Emerson. Introduction by Leo Marx.

  AE 18 FATHER HENSON’S STORY OF HIS OWN LIFE. Autobiography
  of an escaped Negro slave in pre-Civil War days. Introduction by
  Walter Fisher.

“_One of the most exciting and promising new ventures in the field
of paperback publishing is the American Experience Series now being
brought out by Corinth Books. These new and attractive editions of
historic and relatively neglected titles fill out in a unique way some
of the byways of our country’s past._”

                               Robert R. Kirsch in THE LOS ANGELES TIMES




THE LIFE AND REMARKABLE ADVENTURES OF ISRAEL R. POTTER


“Israel Potter is not merely another good man adrift in a world devoid
of goodness: he is, above all, an American, whose ideals and aims are
derived from that same self-reliant democratic ethos which Whitman and
Emerson were later to celebrate. Hired laborer, farmer, chain bearer,
hunter, trapper, Indian trader, merchant sailor, whaler, soldier,
courier, spy, carpenter, and beggar, through it all, Israel remains the
American, the man who, even in the hardships of exile, insists that all
will be well once he can again walk ‘on American ground.’

“This small book did not help Israel Potter achieve his objective: his
quest for a pension proved unsuccessful, and he died soon after, on
‘the same day,’ Melville tells us, ‘that the oldest oak in his native
hills was blown down.’ He took with him whatever was left of his dreams
and pride, an end which, to some extent, all victims share. ‘Kings as
Clowns,’ Melville wrote bitterly, ‘are codgers--who ain’t a nobody?’ It
is a fitting epitaph for all the Israel Potters.”

                               from the Introduction by Leonard Kriegel,
                                            The City College of New York


_The American Experience Series_ is devoted to publishing new
editions of historic books which mirrored and shaped the growth of our
Nation from earliest times to the present.

_Consulting Editor_: Henry Bamford Parkes

=CORINTH BOOKS= _distributed by_ THE CITADEL PRESS

  $1.25      AE 16




Transcriber’s Note:

Spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained as published
in the 1962 source book except as follows:

  Page iv
    never as good, as enobling, or as fulfilling _changed to_
    never as good, as ennobling, or as fulfilling

  Page 22
    than raging in his Majesty’s _changed to_
    then raging in his Majesty’s

  Page 59
    surpassed in expresssions _changed to_
    surpassed in expressions

  Page 95
    life was dispaired of _changed to_
    life was despaired of

  Page 99
    his (the Consul.) on his arrival _changed to_
    his (the Consul,) on his arrival

    would to God it was to morrow _changed to_
    would to God it was to-morrow

  AE 6
    campaining during the French _changed to_
    campaigning during the French