years old, and so small that his fellow-workmen called him ‘not much bigger than a last,’ toiled for several months until he could make a tolerable shoe, to his great pride and delight.
He was much too young and small for his task, however, and it soon became evident that he lacked the strength to pursue the work.
He always retained a vivid recollection of the heavy lapstone, on1
which he pounded many a sole until his body ached and his knees were sore and tremulous; of the threads he waxed, and the sore fingers he experienced from sewing shoes; and not less vividly, but much more gratefully, did he remember the kindness shown him by his worthy master and wife, in whose family he lived during his brief apprenticeship.
From their house he witnessed the great gale of September, 1815, which made as strong an impression on his memory as the great Newburyport
fire of 1811, which, when a boy of five, he had been held up to the window to see.
In October, 1815, Mr. Paul Newhall
, a shoe manufacturer of Lynn
, decided to remove to Baltimore, Maryland
, for the purpose of establishing a factory there, and he took with him a number of skilled workmen, with their families.
, who was known and beloved by them all, accepted an invitation to accompany them, taking her two boys with her, and the whole party embarked at Salem
on the ninth of that month in the brig Edward
, the journey by land being too formidable and expensive in those days to be thought of. The voyage was a rough one, lasting twelve days; but while Lloyd
was so seasick that he lost all desire to lead a seafaring life, his mother proved herself a good sailor, and kept a log of their daily experiences in true nautical phrase.
The narrative, which has been preserved, is curiously interspersed with solemn reflections on the miseries of this and the glories of the future life, and with humorous allusions to the sickness of the passengers and the terror of the women when a British sloop-of-war fired two guns to make the Edward