But that which perhaps more than any thing else, converted my vague
dreamings and longings into a definite purpose of seeking my fortune on
the sea, was an old-fashioned glass ship, about eighteen inches long,
and of French manufacture, which my father, some thirty years before,
had brought home from Hamburg as a present to a great-uncle of mine:
Senator Wellingborough, who had died a member of Congress in the days of
the old Constitution, and after whom I had the honor of being named.
Upon the decease of the Senator, the ship was returned to the donor.

It was kept in a square glass case, which was regularly dusted by one of
my sisters every morning, and stood on a little claw-footed Dutch
tea-table in one corner of the sitting-room. This ship, after being the
admiration of my father's visitors in the capital, became the wonder and
delight of all the people of the village where we now resided, many of
whom used to call upon my mother, for no other purpose than to see the
ship. And well did it repay the long and curious examinations which they
were accustomed to give it.

In the first place, every bit of it was glass, and that was a great
wonder of itself; because the masts, yards, and ropes were made to
resemble exactly the corresponding parts of a real vessel that could go
to sea. She carried two tiers of black guns all along her two decks; and
often I used to try to peep in at the portholes, to see what else was
inside; but the holes were so small, and it looked so very dark indoors,
that I could discover little or nothing; though, when I was very little,
I made no doubt, that if I could but once pry open the hull, and break
the glass all to pieces, I would infallibly light upon something
wonderful, perhaps some gold guineas, of which I have always been in
want, ever since I could remember. And often I used to feel a sort of