Jerry; or, the sailor boy ashore

At the beginning of the year 1841, Walter Aimwell commenced keeping regularly a journal, “hoping,” he said in the preface, “that it may be profitable to me now, and useful and interesting to me at some future time.”

His entries were much condensed, but they seem to give a very accurate account of the comparatively few incidents in his monotonous outward life; and we even get some hint of the sweet, ineffable pleasures that his soul, ingenious in happiness, could shape out of what some might think very poor and very scanty materials. Young persons, practically pure and truly Christian, are all great geniuses in the art of living happily.

So we read of young Walter Aimwell that one evening, “there being a bright moon,” he went to Charlestown, and “stopped some time on the bridge, listening to the sweet strains of the band on board the receiving ship at the Navy Yard.” Another evening he reads “the Life of Nathaniel Bowditch nearly through, and gathers from it several important hints.” Another, he commences writing the Pleasant Way. Another, he mentions that he has observed the day as a day of fasting and prayer, (it is not a public fast-day), and records it in cipher; his native modesty probably reminding him of the shut closet-door and the ignorance of the left hand.

Again, “I was measured, and found myself five feet seven and a half inches tall, without boots; consequently, ‘in the ordinary walks of life,’ when I have boots and cap on, I am about six feet high.” He was a little more than eighteen years of age at the time.

One night he “had a somewhat remarkable dream,—remarkable not for any strange combination of ideas or flight of imagination, but for its very close resemblance to an allegory.” As it may interest some persons, curious in the mysteries of psycho-physical science, his whole account of the dream is here copied:—

“I thought I saw a large and beautiful building at some distance from where I was, and separated from me by marshes and shallow water. Whoever travelled through this water was admitted to the house, where he was secure from every trouble, disease, and death. I soon began my way toward this house, and found that it was very difficult and dangerous travelling. The little cockles, usually found in such places, crawled up my naked feet and fastened themselves upon me. But I constantly removed them. At times, I was wellnigh discouraged; for my head was continually bowed down to watch against the dangerous holes with which my path was beset. But I would then cast my eye toward the happy home whither I was going, and sing, ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.’ Here I awoke, and could not fail to see immediately the moral of the allegory. I only regretted that I had not slept on a few moments longer, and found myself at my journey’s end.”

Once he attended what he calls “a loco-foco, anti-slavery, temperance, methodist, moral-reform, woman’s-rights, and every-thing else convention,” and seems not to have been very well pleased with the sense, or the manners, of the speakers.

Another evening, “attended a lecture on the history, construction, and power, of church organs, by H. R. Cleaveland, Esq.,” with illustrations by Mr. Greatorex. “Of course, the lecture was highly interesting and instructive.”

On the fast-day appointed on account of the death of President Harrison, he worked in the office until ten o’clock, then went home, and at eleven went to church, and heard “an excellent sermon.” He staid at home in the afternoon and evening and wrote.

One evening he went up to the Common and heard some “delightful music” from the Brigade Band; and soon after, going again, when “both bands were absent from the city,” he heard the Cambridgeport band. “The music was poor, but as good as could be expected from a country band.”

Again, he went to the Oratorio of Mount Sinai. “After hearing Part I.,” he “was satisfied without hearing any more, and came away.” The next evening, he listened to the “Messiah,” and was better pleased than on the previous evening, but frankly owned he was “not very fond of such music.”

One “fine day” he accepted an invitation to “ride with Mr. Damrell in his buggy.”

Soon after, in consequence of an accident to the “Morning Star,” he went to work at eleven o’clock at night, and worked until one; then, returning home, found it impossible for him to awaken any one so as to get in, and therefore returned to the office, and continued working until five o’clock.

One rainy Sabbath, “As I lent my umbrella a few days ago, and have not seen it since, I was detained from Sabbath school, and also from church. This is my first absence from Sabbath school since I joined it, (twenty-two months), and I have not been absent from church before, for about two years.”

One evening he attended the wedding of a favorite brother, and “the evening passed off most agreeably.” The next evening he records that he has “felt very dull and homesick to-day, on account of the loss of my brother, who has been my room-mate nearly all the time for several years.” Soon after, he leaves his boarding-place in Green Street, where he has been for several years, and goes to reside in the family of his employer. It is pretty evident that, for some reason or other, Mr. Damrell especially likes this modest youth.

After patiently and carefully making entries in his journal every day of the year, he gives the following compact and characteristic

After this summary, follow three pages of accounts of receipts and expenditures for the year. By these it appears that his total receipts were fifty-one dollars and forty-seven cents, and his total expenditures fifty dollars and forty-seven cents, leaving a favorable balance of exactly one dollar. Of his expenditures, five dollars and eighty-two cents were for church and charity. He was not paid for “The Pleasant Way” until the next May.

Surely the machinery of Walter Aimwell’s life was not complicated, and the material of it was not bulky. Few boys have less; yet he had all that was necessary to make a character strong and noble, and to accomplish results whose influence for good will outlast time itself.

This compact method of journal-keeping he practised until the very day of his death. In these journals, he never expatiates upon any subject; yet I shall extract a passage here and there, because I would rather the reader should take a suggestion from his own pen than an ampler remark from mine.

“Jan. 3, 1842. Went to work this morning at half-past three, to help get out the first number of the ‘Christian Reflector.’

“Thursday, April 7. Unpleasant. Annual Fast to-day. At seven o’clock in the morning went down to Salem in the cars, with my room-mate, L. P. H. On arriving there, I immediately went to Uncle R.’s, in Danvers, where I found my mother, who went down yesterday. From there we rode in a carryall to Miss Mugford’s.[3] We afterwards visited Mrs. A.’s, and from thence went to the Tabernacle church, and sat in the pew which we formerly occupied. Rev. Mr. Worcester preached a very good sermon from the text, ‘Remember this, and show yourselves men.’ Isa. xlvi. 8. After taking dinner with Mrs. A., I called on L. P. H., and became acquainted with his parents. We then walked around together for some time, and visited our old schoolmaster, Mr. Brooks, who appeared very glad to see us. After tea, mother and myself, with father and little Charlie, who came down in a carryall this morning, all rode home together, and reached Charlestown at about eight o’clock. Though the weather was rather inclement, I never spent a more agreeable visit in Salem, and I shall long remember it with pleasure.”

“May 1, 1841. Sabbath. Warm and pleasant. After the sermon, fifty-seven persons were admitted to the church by profession, and ten by letter. It was a most interesting scene, and one which I shall long remember with pleasure. The church was very crowded, and the services were unusually solemn. Most of those who united with the church were young, and some were yet in the years of childhood. These are the first fruits of the delightful revival now enjoyed by our church in common with others in the city.... The communion season was one of deep interest.”

“May 3. A fine day. At five o’clock in the morning went over to Charlestown with L. P. H., and took breakfast there.”

“May 18, Wednesday. In the evening attended a meeting held at Bowdoin-Street Vestry by the young men of Bowdoin, Park, Salem, and Green-Street churches. The meeting was excellent.”

“Sept. 28, Wednesday. A fine day. The annual muster took place to-day at South Boston Point, and about twenty-two companies were present. In the afternoon I had liberty “to go and see the soldiers.” I did not go to muster; but after dinner I went over to Chelsea, and bought me a fine pair of stout winter boots, custom-made. Returned home before four, and wrote the rest of the afternoon and evening.”

The day after he was twenty years of age, he “bought two feet of wood, and in the evening L. P. H. and himself got it in and sawed it once;” probably that he might make his private room sufficiently warm to write during the approaching winter months. From these two paragraphs, youths can get some notion of the manner in which young Walter Aimwell spent his limited time and his more limited means.

Much of his leisure during the year 1842, was spent in writing; yet he read about half-a-dozen good books, besides miscellaneous reading. He also visited Salem, Mount Auburn, and Fresh Pond; Woburn, New York, Hoboken, Jersey City, Brooklyn, and West Point. His “balance on hand” this year was seven dollars and forty-three cents.

“Oct. 30, 1843. Pleasant. This is to me a memorable day. It completes my twenty-first year, and, of course, closes my apprenticeship. This is with me, as with most others, an event of no small interest, and one to which I have long looked forward with hope and pleasure, though occasionally with some anxiety and fear. I have devoted six years, six months and nineteen days to the acquisition of a trade, all of which time I have spent in the office of W. S. Damrell. But now my apprenticeship is finished; and, according to the testimony of some of my older fellow-printers, I have seen the pleasantest days of my life. Last Saturday evening I entered into an agreement to work for Mr. Damrell, and he promised to employ me as long as he could supply any journeyman with work. As I have always liked my trade, I hope and trust I shall always find enough to do at it.” (He never failed in that respect. Trades are like folks,—they like those that like them.) “As to ‘freedom presents,’ I have received to-day a handsome pocket-Bible from a friend who has worked in the office some time, but recently left; and also two cents and one copper from three other friends belonging to the office! Verily, charity aboundeth!”

Among his papers has been found the subjoined, dated October 31, 1843; that is, the next day after he had completed his twenty-first year:—

“Believing it is my duty to give what assistance I am able to the benevolent and religious objects with which I conscientiously sympathize, I have thought a systematic plan of laying by, as the Lord shall prosper me, what I am able to give these objects, might now be well adopted, as I am commencing life for myself; consequently, I have determined, so long as the Lord shall prosper me and enable me to do it, to lay by one-twentieth of all the means I earn from this date, and consider it as sacredly devoted to objects of charity, especially religious benevolence.”

“Dec. 31, 1843. Sabbath. I have seldom heard a sermon in which I was so intensely interested.... The argumentative part was instructive, new and interesting; and the persuasive and admonitory, intensely solemn. The whole was characterized by a beauty of expression and purity of language which I seldom hear. But much as I admired the preacher, I think the man was comparatively lost amid the impressions that his sermon produced.” It was a stranger who preached.

“Jan. 1, 1844. The new year was ushered in with a clear sky and a bright sun; and brought with it its usual salutations and good wishes. As usual, I received enough of the latter, though favored with nothing of a more substantial character. I had the pleasure, however, of making three presents.” These were to his mother, his room-mate, and a young lady who had previously shown him kindness.

During a part of January and of February of the year 1844, the weather was unusually cold, and nearly all the harbors of New England were frozen up.

“Feb. 1. The British steamer was to have sailed to-day, but could not get out of the harbor. The proprietors of the ice establishment at Fresh Pond have entered into a contract to cut a channel out of the harbor, and commenced this morning. They have completed about three miles to-day, and seven more remain to be done. Thousands of persons have been out on the harbor to-day, and the skating which it affords has been well improved. After work in the evening, there being a good moon, I went down with L. P. H. nearly as far as the Castle; and, after wandering about some time, we went over to Cunard Wharf and looked at the Britannia; after which I returned, and read the whole of a new book.”

February 16th he went to Salem, and “first of all,” he called upon Sarah Mugford, with whom he “spent half an hour most pleasantly.” Sarah Mugford had once formed a part of his mother’s household.

During the spring of this year he lost the pastor of whom he had been saying almost continually since he joined the church, he “preached an excellent sermon.” It seems to have been a great loss to him; and it is doubtful if any other quite took his place in the estimation of Walter Aimwell.

“May 27. After supper I went out to attend the annual meeting of the Peace Society. On my way I was detained for a short time, in consequence of meeting the Phalanx with the Brigade Band. The meeting at Winter Street being rather dull, I came out and dropped into Park Street, where the Education Society were holding their anniversary. On my way home I encountered another strong temptation,—the Brass Band at the head of a Temperance procession,—and, after listening to their music for a while, I again started home, but encountered one more company on my way.”

“May 28. The Greys had a fine parade with the Brigade Band. After tea, I unexpectedly came in contact with them, and I could not withstand the temptation to take a short walk with them.”

“May 29. In the evening I attended a meeting at Central Church, at which illustrations of various styles of church music were given by a very large and excellent choir, under the direction of Lowell Mason. It was a rich feast.”

In August, he was offered the situation of foreman of the “Bangor Gazette,” at an increase of wages; but he “concluded it was not advisable” to accept it.

Thanksgiving-day he “passed very pleasantly, and also accomplished considerable on his new book.”

“Dec. 31. Worked this evening on the “Reflector” until ten o’clock, as there has been much necessary delay in getting out the first number enlarged.”

“Jan. 9, 1845. Heard to-day of the acceptance of the manuscript I sent to the Massachusetts Sabbath School Society.”

“Jan. 27. Practised music and wrote in the evening.”

“Feb. 1. The copy of my new book came into the office and was commenced upon.”

“Feb. 5. The streets are completely imbedded in snow. This evening I practised on my melodeon.”

“Feb. 12. In the evening I did nothing.” It is not a wonder that he underlined these two words. It is doubtful if, on any other evening, he could truthfully record them of himself.

“March 6. This evening I called at three boarding-houses, and finally concluded to go to one in Green Street; and accordingly I made preparations for moving.”

“March 8. To-day I left my boarding-place at Mr. B.’s, and this evening took up my abode in Green Street. It is always unpleasant for me to change my boarding-place; but in this instance it is doubly so from the fact that I am compelled to part with my old and long-tried friend, L. P. H. We have roomed together for more than three years, and have seen many happy days together.”

“March 10. Monday. Another cold, dull, and gloomy day. Not yet having become ‘naturalized’ in my new boarding-place, and being destitute of a ‘chum,’ my feelings seem to sympathize with the weather. I spent the evening at Mr. B.’s, where I called to get some things.

“March 10. In the evening, I read a proof-sheet of ‘The Sinner’s Friend.’”

“March 25. Verily, this is a world of changes. Having relinquished my right and title to the large chamber I have occupied during my residence in my present boarding-place, this evening I took possession of a smaller one, fronting on the street, which I am to have exclusively to myself. This is rather a lonesome way of living, especially to me, after having enjoyed myself so much with my late room-mate, L. P. H.”

“April 14. This afternoon I received from Mr. Dean a copy of ‘The Sinner’s Friend,’ and the bill for the copyright of the same. I am much pleased with the appearance of the book. The committee feel considerable curiosity to know the name of the author, and say they think he ought to disclose himself. Mr. Dean has invited me to write another book. I spent the evening principally in looking over my new volume.”

“April 22. Wrote in the evening, and completed the plan and foundation of a new book that I intend to write.”

“April 29. At six o’clock this morning I went to Marlborough Chapel and took my first lesson in phonography. The class is quite large, and commences under good auspices. In the evening I studied phonography and practised music.”

For a few weeks after this, he takes a phonographic lesson every morning, and divides his evenings between phonography and music.

“May 23. Spent the evening with the rest of the boarders, in the room of Mr. and Mrs. F. I took my melodeon with me, and on the whole we had a very pleasant time.”

“June 2. This morning I treated myself to a new notion, and took a lesson in French! My phonographic lessons continue through this week; and if I attend the French lessons, I shall be obliged to lose three of the phonographic. But I did not regret this much, as Mr. Boyle told us last Friday morning that we then had all the principles of the science, and all the future lessons would be practice, which, owing to my near-sightedness, I can pursue to better advantage at home.”

And now, in the midst of music, French, and phonography, this young man assumes the editorial charge of the “Christian Reflector,” a religious weekly, for the purpose of enabling Rev. Mr. Graves, the editor, to take a voyage to the South. And, therefore, in addition to the usual reading, writing, French, music, phonography, interviews of friendship and religious meetings, we read of mornings and evenings devoted partly to “writing editorials.”

“July 1. Tuesday. And the strangest July I ever experienced. I arose at six this morning, dreading for some time to get up, it was so cold! I dressed, and then wrapped myself in my cloak, and sat down and studied French until breakfast-time. When I got to the office, the first thing I did was to make some fire. It has been unpleasant, and rained some, and the wind is east. Thus much for the weather. To-day the new post-office law goes into effect. It is one of the best reforms of the day. In the evening I finished reading ‘Headley’s Letters from Italy,’ a very entertaining book, which came to me by virtue of my office as editor, pro tem., of the ‘Christian Reflector;’ which office, by the way, I am thankful I shall soon lose. I have had the whole responsibility of the paper.”

The columns of the “Reflector” during Mr. Graves’ absence give no token that they are in young and untried hands. Indeed, the articles, in dignity, variety, judiciousness, interest, and power, would do credit to a veteran in the profession; and especially does this apply to those from Walter Aimwell’s own pen. Here is the conclusion of a column on “The Hope of Glory;”—

“Ministers of the everlasting God, ye who preach the gospel of his Son, will ye not be zealous in your addresses to wake up the consciences of your ungodly hearers to consider the slippery places on which they stand? For your encouragement, we present an anecdote respecting Archbishop Leighton. This distinguished English divine lived about two hundred years ago. At that time, the monarch of England was favorable to the introduction of Popery into his kingdom, and to its patronage by the government. He engaged on his side some of the leading bishops of the English church. Leighton, however, stood aloof from their evil counsels, and continued faithfully to preach the cardinal principles of the gospel. Some of his brethren called upon him and remonstrated, begging him to preach on the ‘times,’ meaning thereby to engage his influence in the cause of Romanism. ‘Do you wish me,’ said he ‘to preach on the times? Who are they who preach on the times?’ He was answered, ‘All the brethren are preaching on the times.’ ‘If all the brethren,’ said Leighton, ‘are preaching on the times, you ought certainly to allow one poor brother to preach Jesus Christ and eternity.’ Ye who preach on the times, the novelties of the world, and are men-pleasers, remember what Paul says, ‘If I yet seek to please men, I should not be the servant of Christ.’”

The subjoined paragraphs are from an article of excellent tone, entitled, “The Contented Christian:”—

“It is evident that the contented Christian is a wise one; for ‘godliness with contentment is great gain.’ Nor is it less apparent that he is a useful one. His example alone will accomplish more for the cause of his Master than will the example, precept, and labor united of many others who do not resemble him in this respect. He belongs, moreover, to the highest style of Christians. ‘If,’ says Andrew Fuller,—‘if amidst afflictions we be in subjection to the Father of spirits, and while we mourn do not murmur, we attain the highest perfection of which human nature is capable.’ This is a perfection of which pagan moralists never dreamed, which Christian hypocrites never successfully counterfeited.

“A discontented Christian! What is he but a rebellious Christian? And if still in rebellion against God, has he not reason to fear that he has never been adopted into the great family of the redeemed? Can he not acquiesce in the will of that Being who now holds to him the relation of a Father and a friend? Cannot he, who is heir to the rich promises of grace, trust him who hath said that ‘all things work together for good to them that love God’? Oh, discontented, repining Christian! repent at once of thy sin and folly, and in the strength of God face and conquer this fearful temptation, till thou canst say with Paul, ‘I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.’ ‘’Tis impious in a good man to be sad,’—yes, thrice impious when that sadness is the result of a discontented mind.”

July 21st he quietly records an accident, which probably caused him not a little annoyance:—

“This afternoon the fourth page of this week’s ‘Reflector’ was almost entirely thrown into pi, through the carelessness of the wheelman, who was lifting it from the press. More than half of it was nonpareil, and the greater part of the form was landed on the bed of the press upside down.”

In the latter part of this month, he, in company with a younger brother, started on a journey into Maine. Of the incidents of this visit he gave a condensed account in his journal; but only one extract will be made, and that one chiefly because it is likely that the principal part of that definite knowledge of some things pertaining to this State, which helps render the Aimwell stories lifelike and interesting, was obtained at this time:—

“In spite of the mud and rain, however, I enjoyed the ride very much; though at one time J. was quite sick. The road ran parallel with the Kennebec, and the scenery was beautifully diversified. What added much to my pleasure was the fact that our only companion was an exceedingly ‘knowing’ and communicative old settler, who can recollect when the towns around us contained but two or three houses, and who gave us to understand that he owned two or three stage lines, had been sent to the legislature, had a son in Waterville College, and, in short, was himself no inconsiderable character. As he is perfectly familiar with the history and present condition of Maine, I picked up considerable useful information from the old gentleman.”

In whatever situation Walter Aimwell might be placed, one might venture to say he “picked up considerable useful information.” Whatever passed under his observation was sure to be “useful,” at one time or another. It may be supposed that some kinds of information are useless; some, very much worse than useless; but he always was on the right side of all knowledge that can be honestly obtained, and saw it in a good light; and when the idea was well assimilated, in its appropriate place it swelled the muscle or flushed the beauty of the thought in his earnest pages.