was caught up in the arms of one of the Wiscasset sailors, Robert
Barryman, who was decked out in regular Jackashore fashion, with blue
jacket and white trousers. I thought him the most beautiful man I had
ever seen.

He took me to a refreshment stand and ordered a glass of sarsaparilla
for me, which I drank with as much relish as if it were the nectar of
the gods. To this day nothing that I have ever seen of the kind rivals
the image which remains in my mind of the gorgeousness of the highly
ornamented brass vessel out of which that nectar came foaming. Often
as I have passed the identical spot I see standing there the old
woman's sarsaparilla stand, and I marvel what became of the dear old
sailor. I have tried to trace him, but in vain, hoping that if found
he might be enjoying a ripe old age, and that it might be in my power
to add to the pleasure of his declining years. He was my ideal Tom
Bowling, and when that fine old song is sung I always see as the "form
of manly beauty" my dear old friend Barryman. Alas! ere this he's gone
aloft. Well; by his kindness on the voyage he made one boy his devoted
friend and admirer.

We knew only Mr. and Mrs. Sloane in New York--parents of the
well-known John, Willie, and Henry Sloane. Mrs. Sloane (Euphemia
Douglas) was my mother's companion in childhood in Dunfermline. Mr.
Sloane and my father had been fellow weavers. We called upon them and
were warmly welcomed. It was a genuine pleasure when Willie, his son,
bought ground from me in 1900 opposite our New York residence for his
two married daughters so that our children of the third generation
became playmates as our mothers were in Scotland.

My father was induced by emigration agents in New York to take the