THE AMERICAN WHALEMAN. 



395 



weeks passed before our accounts were balanced. Of some 

 sixty- five dollars which came to me, after rigging myself 

 and Charley Lings in blue jackets, trowsers, and pumps, and 

 paying for our two passages to New York, there remained 

 means to buy a ticket to Philadelphia, and a clean five dol- 

 lars in my pocket. 



After dark, on a Saturday night, I arrived in my native 

 city, and entered the first tavern, not to drink, but to as 

 certain the whereabouts of some friends. An hour there- 

 after I entered a brother's door, to the surprise of his beau- 

 tiful young wife, who little dreamed, when she accepted her 

 new life, that such an invasion was at all probable. But she 

 met the dispensation bravely, and we all sat up late, running 

 over the incidents of the voyage. As I passed into blissful 

 sleep, I knew that the voyage of the Chelsea was at an end, 

 and that there were those yet left who could love the "re- 

 turned wanderer. 



WE PLUS ULTRA." 



