OBEYING ORDERS.

The "oldest inhabitant" perfectly remembers the Widow Trotter, who used, many years ago, to inhabit a small wooden house away down in Hanover Street, in somewhat close proximity to Salutation Alley. Well, this widow was blessed with a son, who, like Goldsmith, and many other men distinguished in after life, was the dunce of his class. Numerous were the floggings which his stupidity brought upon him, and the road to knowledge was with him truly a "wale of tears."

One day he came home, as usual, with red eyes and hands.

"O, you blockhead!" screamed his mother,—she was a bit of a virago, Mrs. Trotter was,—"you've ben gettin' another lickin', I know."

"O, yes," replied young Mr. Trotter; "that's one uv the reg'lar exercises—lickin' me. 'Arter I've licked Trotter,' sez the master, 'I'll hear the 'rithmetic class.' But, mother, to change the subject, as the criminal said, when he found the judge was getting personal, is there enny arrand I can do for you?"

"Yes," grumbled the widow; "only you're so eternal slow about every thing you undertake—go get a pitcher of water, and be four years about it, will ye?"

Bob Trotter took the pitcher, and wended his way in the direction of the street pump; but he hadn't got far when he encountered his friend, Joe Buffer, the mate of a vessel, issuing from his house, dragging a heavy sea chest after him.

"Come Bob," said Joe, "bear a hand, and help us down to Long Wharf with this."

"Well, so I would," answered Bob, "only you see mother sent me arter a pitcher o' water."

"What do you care about your mother—she don't care for you? Come along."

"Well," said Bob, "first let me hide the pitcher where I can find it again."

With these words he stowed away his earthenware under a flight of stone steps, and accompanied his friend aboard his ship. The pilot was urging the captain to cast off, and take advantage of the tide and wind, but the latter was awaiting the arrival of a boy who had shipped the day before, wishing no good to his eyes for the delay he had occasioned.

At last he turned to Bob, and said,—

"What do you say, youngster, to shipping with me? I'll treat you well, and give you ten dollars a month."

"I should like to go," said Bob, hesitatingly. "But my mother——"

"Hang your mother!" interrupted the captain. "She'll be glad to get rid of you. Come—will you go?"

"I hain't got no clothes."

"Here's a chestfull. That other chap was just your size; they'll fit you to a T."

"I'll go."

"Cast off that line there!" shouted the captain; and the ship fell off with the tide, and was soon standing down the bay with a fair wind, and every stitch of canvas set. She was bound for the northwest coast, via Canton, and back again, which was then called the "double voyage," and usually occupied about four years.

In the mean while, the non-appearance of Bob seriously alarmed his mother. A night passed, and the town crier was called into requisition a week, when she gave him up, had a note read for her in meeting, and went into mourning.

Just four years after these occurrences the ship returned to port, and Bob and his friend were paid off. The wages of the widow's son amounted to just four hundred and eighty dollars, and he found, on squaring his accounts with the captain, that his advances had amounted to the odd tens, and four hundred dollars clear were the fruits of his long cruise.

As he walked in the direction of his mother's house, in company with Joe, he scanned with a curious eye the houses, the shops, and the people that he passed. Nothing appeared changed; the same signs indicated an unchanging hospitality on the part of the same landlords, the same lumpers were standing at the same corners—it seemed as if he had been gone only a day. With the old sights and sounds, Bob's old feelings revived, and he almost dreaded to see, debouching from some alley, a detachment of boys sent by his ancient enemy, the schoolmaster, to know why he had been playing truant, and to carry him back to receive the customary walloping.

When he was quite near home, he said,—

"Joe, I wonder if any body's found that old pitcher."

He stooped down, thrust his arm under the stone steps, and withdrew the identical piece of earthenware he had deposited there just four years ago.

Having rinsed and filled it at the pump, he walked into his mother's house, and found her seated in her accustomed arm chair. She looked at him for a minute, recognized him, screamed, and exclaimed,—

"Why, Bob! where have you been? What have you been doing?"

"Gettin' that pitcher o' water," answered Bob, setting it upon the table. "I always obey orders—you told me to be four years about it, and I was."