for himself
when he saw the brick house looming over the bowery lane.

The candle shop at the Blue Ball, that general place for story-telling
by winter fires, when it was warm there and the winds were cold outside,
often heard this story, and such stories as the Winthrop Silver Cup,
which may still be seen; of lively Anne Pollard, who was the first to
leap on shore here from the first boat load of pioneers as it came near
the shore at the North End, when the hills were covered with
blueberries; of old "sea dogs" and wonderful ships, like Sir Francis
Drake and the Golden Hynde, or "Sir Francis and his shipload of gold,"
which ship returned to England one day with chests of gold, but not
with Sir Francis, whose body had been left in many fathoms of sea! Ben
listened to these tales with wonder, with Jenny by his side, leaning on
him.

What was the story of Sir William Phipps, that so haunted the minds of
Boston boys and caused their pulses to beat and the sea fever to rise?

It was known in England as well as in America; it was a wonder tale over
the sea, for it was associated with titled names. Uncle Ben knew it
well, and told it picturesquely, with much moralizing.

Let us suppose it to be a cold winter's night, when the winds are abroad
and the clouds fly over the moon. Josiah Franklin has played his violin,
the family have sung "Martyrs"; the fire is falling down, and "people
are going to meetin'," as a running of sparks among the soot was called,
when such a thing happened in the back of the chimney.

Little Ben's imagination is hungry, and he asks for the twice-told tale
of Sir William. He would be another Sir William himself some day.

By the dying coals Uncle Ben tells the story. What a story it was! No
wonder that it made an inexperienced boy want to go to sea, and
especially such boys as led an uneventful life in the ropewalk or in the
candle shop!

Uncle Ben first told the incident of Sir William's promise to the widow
who took him to her home when he was poor, that she should live in the
brick house; and then he pictured the young sailor's wonderful voyages
to fulfill this promise. He called the sailor the "Treasure-finder."

Let us snuggle down by the fire on this cold night in Boston town,
beside little Ben and Jenny, and listen to the story.

Uncle Ben, mayhap, shakes his snuffbox, and says:

"That boy dreamed dreams in the daytime, but he was an honest man."
Uncle Ben rang these words like a bel