So he went into a store and inquired if they wanted a boy.

“What can you do?” asked the storekeeper, looking at the boy with his countrified air and rustic suit.

“I can read, write, and cipher,” answered James.

“Indeed!” said the storekeeper smiling.  “All our boys can do that.  Is that all you can do?”

James might have answered that he could chop wood, work at carpentering, plant and harvest, but he knew very well that these accomplishments would be but little service to him here.  Indeed, he was rather puzzled to know what he could do that would earn him a living in a smart town life Cleveland.  However, he didn’t much expect to find his first application successful, so he entered another store and preferred his request.

“You won’t suit us,” was the brusque reply.  “You come from the country, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You look like it.  Well, I will give you a piece of advice.”

“What is that, sir?”

“Go back there.  You are better suited to country than the city.  I daresay you would make a very good hand on a farm.  We need different sort of boys here.”

This was discouraging.  James didn’t know why he would not do for a city store or office.  He was strong enough, and he thought he knew enough, for he had not at present much idea of what was taught at seminaries of a higher grade than the district schools he had been accustomed to attend.

“Well,” he said to himself, “I’ve done what mother asked me to do.  I’ve tried to get a place here, and there doesn’t seem to be a place for me.  After all, I don’t know but I’d better go to Ohio.”

Cleveland was not of course a sea-port, but it had considerable lake trade, and had a line of piers.

James found his way to the wharves, and his eye lighted up as he saw the sloops and schooners which were engaged in inland trade.  He had never seen a real ship, or those schooners and sloops would have had less attraction for him.

In particular his attention was drawn to one schooner, not over-clean or attractive, but with a sea-faring look, as if it had been storm-tossed and buffeted.  Half a dozen sailors were on board, but they were grimed and dirty, and looked like habitual drinkers—­probably James would not have fancied becoming like one of these, but he gave little thought to their appearance.  He only thought how delightful it would be to have such a floating home.

“Is the captain on board?” the boy ventured to ask.

“He’s down below,” growled the sailor whom he addressed.

“Will he soon come up?”

He was answered in the affirmative.

So James lingered until the man he inquired for came up.

He was a brutal-looking man, as common in appearance as any of the sailors whom he commanded, and the boy was amazed at his bearing.  Surely that man was not his ideal of a ship-captain.  He thought of him as a sort of prince, but there was nothing princely about the miserable, bloated wretch before him.