We and the World: A Book for Boys. Part I

ake our friends so happy as

long before we reached our journey's end. The Slut, as we now privately called her, defied all our eff

into a beautiful harbour on a beautiful morning. The fresh breeze that favoured us, the sunshine that-helped by the enchantment of distance-made warehouses look like public buildings, and stone houses like marble palaces, a softening hue of morning mist still dinging about the heights, of Brooklyn and over the distant stretch of the Hudson river is

feeling, "you and me's called her a heap o' bad names, Dennis; I

port, anyhow," said Dennis, "and I suppo

so, De

ainly practised the art of grumbling as well. That "of all the dirty ill-found tubs," the Slut was the worst we had ever known, our limited experience had made us safe in declaring, and we had also been voluble about the undue length of time during which we had been "humbugging about" between Halifax and New York. But these by

re not going to take in ballast and go back, as we had thought, but to stow away a "general cargo" of cheap manufactured articles (chiefly hardware, toys, trumpery pictures, and lookin

'm stinking fish and buy gimcracks cheap; sell gimcracks dear to Portugee store in G

s as his fate ordained-courting a young lady of colour in Georgetown, Demerara. I don't think Dennis O'Moore could help sympathizing with people, and as a result of this go

lf in Demerara, Alf

trust her, 'specially if the members walks hom

to spoil this one by explaining that his cousin was a middle-

e we found it would be to our advantage to go through with it, especially as we did secure a better understanding about our wages, and the captain promised us more rest on Sundays. On one point we still felt anxious-our home letters; so Dennis wrote to the post-master

leave for three hours ashore. You can't see very much of a city when you have no money to spend in it; but we had walked about till we were very hungry

inks!" excl

es yonder,"

ttered I, for that was

that the man's age would fit Micky, and in the indescribableness of the colour of his clothes and his complexion he was undoubtedly like Biddy, but if they had been born in different worlds the expression of his eyes could not have been more different. I had the clearest remembrance of hers. One does not so often look into the eyes of a stranger and see genuine feeling that one should forget it. For th

?" I asked, before he had time

at the size to which it opened, before he was able to say

I know

when there's something better within? Come in, me boy

nk spirits. Yes; your mothe

mighty long time since I

years,"

ed to the doorway. No customers appeared, however, and he looked back to Dennis

repeated, "it doesn't

ay, you see. You've a good business, Mr. Macartney, so I dare say you're a ready reckoner. Fift

he was losing his temper. I suppose Dennis heard it, too, for he took one bound to my side in a way that almost made me laugh to feel h

ut you see your mother was very kind to me, very kind indeed; and when I left Liverpool I

od-natured in ye too. But come in, all the three of ye, and ha

he busied himself in producing cold meat, a squash pie, and a bottle of whisky, and was as voluble as civil about every subject

ou can't have known what a trouble it has been to you

e to her, worse luck!" And before I could speak again, he went on. "But make your mind aisy, I'll be writing to her.

o he would do for fifteen years to come. As long as he was comfortable himself, his mother would never get a line out of him. Perhaps his voi

it'll ease my mind to repay it. Sit down whilst we're enjoying your hospitality, and just write her

hough he was obviously no great scribe, and followed the sentiments he was expressing with curious contortions of his countenance which it was most funny to behold. By and

," said Mr. Macartney when he had finished. He looked mig

me to read

can let your fr

believed to be my look of admiration with a nod and a wink. I read on.) Times were cruel bad out there for a poor boy that lived by his industry, but thank God he'd been spared the worst pangs of starvation (I glanced round the pop-shop, but, as Micky himself would have said, No matther!); and didn't it lighten his heart to hear of his dear mother sitting content and comfortable at her own coffee-stall. It was murderously hot in these parts, and New York-bad luck to it-was a mighty different place from the dear old Ballywhack where he was born. Would

p and post it, so we took leave of the owner of the pop-shop. He was now very unwilling to let us go. He did not ask another question about his mother, but

oud woman now, av she c

her out to live w

ied man, Mr. -- bad luck to me

it. Well, I hope you'll go

ow could I tell if it were better for her to be disappointed with every ship and every tide, still having faith in her own Micky, and hope