"Jist so, daddy, jist so; I'll witness that. But it 'minds me mightily of the way mammy give old Trailler the side of bacon, last week. She was asweepin' up the hath the meat on the table; old Trailler jumps up, gethers the bacon and darts; mammy arter him with the broomstick as fur as the door, but seein' the dog has got the start, she shakes the stick at him, and hollers, 'You sassy, aigsukkin', roguish, gnatty, flopped-eared varmint, take it along, take it along! I only wish 'twas full of a'snic and ox vomit and blue vitrul, so as 'twould cut your intrils into chitlins!' That's about the way you give Bunch to Simon.”

It was evident to our hero that his father intended he should remain but one more night beneath the paternal roof. What mattered it to Simon?

He went home at night, curried and fed Bunch; whispered confidentially in his ear, that he was the "fastest piece of hoss-flesh, accordin' to size, that ever shaded the yearth;" and then busied himself in preparing for an early start on the morrow.

VII.

MY FIRST VISIT TO PORTLAND.*

IN the fall of the year 1829, I took it into my head I'd go to Portland. I had heard a good deal about Portland, what a fine place it was, and how the folks got rich there proper fast; and that fall there was a couple of new papers come up to our place from there, called the "Portland Courier," and "Family Reader," and they told a good many queer kind of things, about Portland and one thing another; and all at once it popped into my head, and I up and told father, and sais :

"I am going to Portland whether or no; and I'll see what this world is made of yet."

* By Zeba Smith.

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VISIT TO PORTLAND.

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Father stared a little at first, and said he was afraid I would get lost; but when he see I was bent' upon it, he give it up, and he stepped to his chist, and opened the till, and took out a dollar, and gave to me; and says

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he:

Jack, this is all I can do for you; but go and lead an honest life, and I believe I shall hear good of you yet."

He turned and walked across the room, but I could see the tears start into his eyes. And mother sat down, and had a hearty crying spell.

This made me feel rather bad for a minit or two, and I almost had a mind to give it up; and then again father's dream came into my mind, and I mustered up courage, and declared I'd go. So I tackeled up the old horse, and packed in a load of axe-handles, and a few notions; and mother fried me some doughnuts, and put 'em into a box, along with some cheese and sassages, and ropped me up another shirt, for I told her I didn't know how long I should be gone. And after I got all rigged out, I went round, and bid all the neighbors good-bye, and jumped in, and drove off for Portland.

Aunt Sally had been married two or three years before, and moved to Portland; and I inquired

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round till I found out where she lived, and went there, and put the old horse up, and eat some supper, and went to bed.

And the next morning I got up, and straightened right off to see the editor of the "Portland Courier," for I knew, by what I had seen in his paper, that he was just the man to tell me which way to steer. And when I come to see him, I knew I was right; for soon as I told him my name, and what I wanted, he took me by the hand as kind as if he had been a brother, and says

he:

"Mister," says he, "I'll do anything I can to assist you. You have come to a good town; Portland is a healthy, thriving place, and any man with a proper degree of enterprise may do well here. But," says he, "stranger," and he looked mighty kind of knowing, says he, "if you want to make out to your mind, you must do as the steam-boats do."

"Well," says I, "how do they do?" for I didn't know what a steam-boat was any more than the man in the moon.

"Why," says he, "they go ahead. And you must drive about among the folks here, just as

tho' you were at home, on the farm among the cattle. Don't be afraid of any of them, but figure away; and, I dare say, you'll get into good business in a very little while. But," says he," there's one thing you must be careful of; and that is, not to get into the hands of them are folks that trades up round Hucklers' Row, for there's some sharpers up there, if they get hold of you, would twist your eye-teeth out in five minits.”

Well, arter he had gin me all the good advice he could, I went back to Aunt Sally's agin, and got some breakfast; and then I walked all over the town, to see what chance I could find to sell my axe-handles, and things, and to get into business.

After I had walked about three or four hours, I come along towards the upper end of the town, where I found there were stores and shops of all sorts and sizes. And I met a feller,

"What place is this?"

"Why this," says he, "is Hucklers' Row."

"What," says I, "are these the stores where the traders in Hucklers', Row keep?"

And says he: "Yes."