" At midnight, after the day of our arrival, when all was still, the steward hauled me out, and with a o;ood deal of trouble carried me on deck, but I was totally blind. There were two colored men that kept a shop in Brattle street, waitino; for me with a wagon. I was taken to a house, washed, and a suit of clothes were given me. They kept me with them a few days until I could see. I then got a vovage on board a Bangor briff for Havana, and have sailed out of Bangor ever since, and that is three years ago." This was Bill's story, and I have endeavored to repeat it just as he told it to me.
We left Portland, and according to directions, proceeded to Augusta in the mail stage, where we were to enquire our way to Athens. Augusta is a pretty place; we remained here two days, and took the mail stage for Skowhegan. The weather being warm, and the inside of the coach somewhat crowded, I took a seat outside with the driver. While riding through this barren region, I observed to a man who was sitting beside me, that a large farm of such land as this, would give a fellow the horrors. He turned to me, and said: " Did you ever have the horrors? " "Yes, many times." " Well, then, you know how to pity me." "Why, what's the matter?" " Well, sir, I will tell you.
I am under charge of the sheriff; he is inside, and I am going back to Skowhegan." He then related the following story: " I live about eighteen miles from Boston; (I have forgotten the name of the town, although familiar to me for many years after.) One of my neighbors came to me and said he wanted to raise two hundred dollars to meet a payment due on his. farm. ' Now,' said he, 'I have a note against a man at Skowhegan, Maine, for one hundred and sixty-five dollars, for a shingle-machine that 1 sold him, a year ago this month. This note is now due, and I am sure that he can pay it immediately.
I will sell you the note for one hundred dollars cash, and must have the money in three days. I gave him the hundred dollars and took the note. I had never seen any part of Maine, and thought I should like a trip to the eastward; so I commenced my journey, and arrived at Skowhegan four days ago; found the man that owed the note. He was a gallows-looking rascal, and at first was going to strike me, and asked me what I meant by bringing him a forged note. Said I to him, ' What do you mean by a forged note? I bought it of that man/ pointing to the name. By this time I was surounded by a dozen real, vagabond-looking fellows; the man swore he had paid the note, and said that he could produce it; and the next morning brought a note which he swore was the genuine one which he had paid; still swearing that mine was forged.
Seeing how matters stood, I took the stage for home, to lay the matter before the man from whom I had bought it. I reached Augusta in the evening, intending to leave next morning; but just as I had seated myself at the breakfast table, the sheriif came in, and arrested me on a charge of forgery and am now on my way back to Skowhegan." By this time, we had arrived at Waterville; the coach drew up to the tavern, for the passengers to dine. The sheriff took charge of his man. I followed them into the parlor, and remarked to the sheriff: " I see you have a prisoner there, sir. We sat together on the coach, and he has related to me the circumstances of his detention; 1 think there is some mystery about it." " Yes, sir; it is a hard case for our friend here, anyhow." Dinner was ready, but the prisoner would not eat.
I urged him to take some food, as he had eaten no breakfast, and it would be late in the afternoon before we should arrive at Skowhegan. He still refused, saying that his distress was so great, he felt no desire for food. Away from home, among strangers, arrested for forgery, and without means to defend himself. I partook of a hasty dinner, and returned to him. " Now" said I, " if your statement to me is true, I will be your friend, and remain by you until we see the result. If you are in want of money, I will give you enough to pay your expenses; so now cheer up; you may rely on me as your friend." Hearing this, he seemed much affected, took my hand, and thanked me kindly.
The stage being ready, we mounted to our seats again, with the prisoner by my side. He appeared to be an honest, simple-hearted man, owned a small farm, and had left a wife and one child at home. He said that the greatest cause of his distress was, that when he left home, he did not expect to be absent but a few days, and now he feared that his farm and stock would suffer, and his wife would also feel alarmed for him. " Don 't let that trouble you," said I; " keep a stiff upper lip, and never be frightened, if you are innocent. If you are an innocent man, you have nothing to fear." At five, P.
M., we arrived at Skowhegan. In front of the tavern was a long piazza, crowded with a gang of bloated, raowd, state prison-looking loggers, and the most conspicuous among them, was the hero of the shingle-machine. He was about half clad, and little more than half intoxicated. My friend, the prisoner, myself and sheriff went into the sitting-room, and closed the door.