Before reaching them, however, night came. A family, who occupied a red house, received me, whose hospitality I returned by singing a number of sea songs. Early the next morning, I tried to get work at the glass-house, but though I was willing to stay for my board, they would not take me. Mr. Turner, the agent, very kindly gave me a breakfast, and then I left him, determined to get to Boston if possible, and go to sea once more. My situation was really a trying one: my only clothing was a blue jacket and trousers; shoes more than half worn out, and a little tarpaulin hat stuck on the back of my head, in genuine sailor fashion.[27] Mittens and money were alike far off from my fingers, and friends were as scarce as money. People, too, seemed afraid of a sailor; and this, in addition to all my other troubles, rendered me an object of suspicion. At such times, I assure my young reader, that the picture of a kind mother and a good home, are but too faithfully presented to the mind, filling it with a thousand vain and useless regrets. No young man need desire to be in the outcast prodigal condition in which I stood, in the depth of that cold winter. When I reached the town of Mansfield, I called at the house of a Mr. Nathaniel Dunham; the kind manners and friendly language of whose lady I shall never forget. She told me that if I was honest, Providence would shortly open some way by which I could live. Her words fell on my ear like a prophecy, and I left the house, confident of some favorable turn in my affairs before long. At Mansfield Four Corners, I inquired of Dr. Waldo, who, with several others, sat under a piazza, and afterwards of a Mr. Edmund Freeman, for employ. They gave me no encouragement. Persevering, I at last met with a Mr. Peter Cross, who, seeing my sailor garb, asked what ships I had sailed in. Hearing me mention the _Macedonian_, he said, “There is a man here whose name is William Hutchinson. He was taken in her. Do you know him?” “Yes,” said I, after a moment’s recollection; “he was our armorer’s mate.” Of course, I lost no time in seeking for my old shipmate. After crossing various lots, and getting vexed and perplexed for want of proper direction, I reached his comfortable homestead. He did not recognise me at first, on account of the great alteration a few years had made in my size and appearance; but, when he did recall me to his recollection, with the generous frankness of a sailor, he offered me all the hospitality and assistance in his power. A good supper was speedily spread; and then, seated before his ample fireplace, sparkling and crackling with a cheerful blaze, we recounted our adventures. He had wandered into Connecticut, and married a very respectable woman. They now owned a house and some land, and were in tolerably comfortable and thriving circumstances. With such discourse, we talked away the better part of the night, when the old tar showed me my chamber, archly observing that “my bed would not rock much.”