At Hartford I tried to ship on board some merchant vessel. Not succeeding, I strove to find some one to take me as an apprentice to instruct me in the art of bootmaking, but with no better success. These repulses discouraged me. It was Christmas day, and the associations connected with the day--the merry-makings of my early boyhood--were anything but pleasant to me in my distress. The bell was tolling for the funeral of priest Strong, and it seemed as if the melancholy of the mourners fully accorded with my feelings, and was preferable in my mind to the spirit of rejoicing that prevailed among those who were keeping merry Christmas in merry mood. Perhaps, if they had invited me to partake of their cheer, I should have changed my opinion. As it was, with only five cents in my pocket, I wandered lonely and sad through the city. With a feeling of despair I stepped into a cellar for something to drink. They charged me five cents, and left me at once friendless and penniless. At the bridge, the toll-keeper demanded a cent. I looked at him fiercely, and told him I had nothing. He let me pass over toll free. Towards night, feeling tired and hungry, I endeavored to hire myself. But who would employ an utter stranger? I went to a number of houses, imploring a lodging for the night. With freezing coldness, I experienced repulse after repulse, until my heart chilled with horror, with the fear of spending that long, cold night out of doors. At last I called on a kind-hearted Presbyterian, who gave me a supper, lodging and breakfast. Their morning and evening devotions were peculiarly interesting to me; for, excepting while a prisoner at the Cape of Good Hope, I had never listened to an extemporaneous prayer. The next morning I left this truly hospitable family, and pursued my inquiries for employment. Some asked if I could chop wood; others, if I knew anything about farming; and when I answered “No,” they shook their heads, and I trudged on. Sometimes I offered to work for my board, but, being a sailor, and having no recommendations, people were afraid to take me into their families. Still I pushed on. A man overtook me in the town of Coventry, and began a very interesting and faithful discourse about religion. I listened respectively; he took me home with him, where, although he was a deacon, he gave me some cider-brandy: but these were not the days of temperance. After this he sent me to Pomeroy’s tavern, where he thought they would hire me. This application failing, he advised me to apply at the glass works which were a little distance from that place. With this advice, I took leave of Deacon Cook, and proceeded towards the glass-houses.