Twenty Years Before the Mast.
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My father ultimately found his way back to Boston, but it was ten years after this time, and forty-two years and a half from the time he first left the town. While walking out from the Albany depot not a single building or landmark did he recognize until he reached the old Roxbury line. There, with bitter remorse, he
THE HOUSE WHERE I WAS BORN.
stood in front of the old mansion which had once been his happy and comfortable home.
A few days after my return I learned that able seamen were wanted for the navy, and thought quite strongly of shipping in it again, thinking I might possibly obtain a petty officer’s berth. Calling one day at Jack Wright’s
