blue, blue waves, lower and lower, into the darkening abyss, until he became giddy from his own fancies.
Sometimes his mother was not at home; then he always fixed his gaze upon a miserable little picture which hung against the wall, and which represented a brig in full sail. He would fancy himself standing beneath its broad canvas, and waving his farewel to the land; or, he would steal into the recess of the window, and please himself by imagining that he was in the cabin of a ship, and that the white curtain which hung in the window, and was slightly agitated by the wind, was the flapping of the sails in a storm . His little head would at length droop and rest against the window-sill, whilst sleep closed his eyes, and permitted him to continue in dreams his fancied voyage.
One day—a bright sunshiny day—he was strolling along the edge of the harbour wall, gazing at the ships, and chatting now and then with the seafaring people. His little white hat had fallen back, and rested awry upon his curly head, as the poor boy jumped and played about, his shirt sleeves tucked up and without any jacket. How happy he was when the sailors bade him run an errand for them, or, what was better still, help them to move or lift anything. As he wandered farther and farther on, he came upon a large ship that was lying close to a wharf, and taking in its cargo. The boy stood long opposite to it, and looked attentively upon it. That strange, mysterious feeling in the human mind which arises at the sight of the place where our death-bed is to be, or our coffin is to rest, prompted him to exclaim, "How quiet, how peaceful it is here!" Though he thought—unknowing of the future—that his grave would be under some shady tree, yet in contemplating the scene before him, he felt that it was cool, and fresh, and inviting to repose. It was with a peculiar and undefinable sensation that his eye wandered over the newly-tarred hull of the ship—around which the glancing waves were lightly sporting up the supple mast till it rested on the pennon at its top. The busy crew went backwards and forwards, to and from the vessel, which appeared to be nearly ready for its approaching voyage; and the master stood upon the deck, issuing commands, and superintending everything.
The boy ventured nearer and nearer; with earnest looks he watched everything on board, and everything seemed to have been familiar to him in some dream of the past everything, from the nicely-painted, half-open cabin-door, to the dog that rattled its chains whenever any of the sailors passed it. The captain at length came forward, and, as he leaned over the gunwale, his scrutinising eye fell upon the boy, who as steadily gazed at him. For a time they stood thus—both silent. At last the captain said:
"What do you want here, boy? Are you waiting for any one?"
"No; I am only fond of seeing ships, sir," was the boy's answer; as he took off his little white hat, and twirled it about in his hand.
"To whom to you belong?" asked the skipper.
"My mother supports herself by her labour, sir," replied the boy, "and my father lies out yonder; he pointed towards the ocean. "I also should like to go to sea; but my mother says I am too little yet. Do you think, sir, I am really too little?" he added, with an arch, insinuating smile, as he looked up into the captain's eyes.
