I must tell you, however, how I at last came here. Judah Loring
brought me home safe; he was a very honest fellow, and seeing the
initials scratched on my butt-end, and 'Lexington' underneath, he
went there on purpose to find to whom I belonged.

My friend William claimed me, and I was again placed behind the old
clock in the little parlor. His mother looked very calm, and almost
happy, but not as she once did; she sighed heavily when William
brought me home. William's wound in his arm healed after a while,
but his arm was disabled. By great self-denial and exertion, his
mother had got him into college, and he was to be a schoolmaster.

The sight of me was painful to this good woman, and she gave me to
uncle John who kept me safely and, on the whole, honorably till his
son placed me here.

There is one disgrace I have met with which, in good faith, however
unwillingly, I ought to mention. Uncle John used me to kill skunks
occasionally. This there was no great harm in doing, only he should
not have talked about it. I disliked, it, however, exceedingly.

Once, I am told, when he was in the South, some southern gentleman,
for some trifling offense, challenged him.

Uncle John was told that he, as the party challenged, might choose
his weapons.

"Well," he said to his enemy, "if you will wait till I can send for
my skunk gun, I am ready for you."