You had better go over to Brooklyn and find work on a farm." "That I'll do with pleasure," said I; "but I have no money to pay my fare over the ferry." "Never mind, I'll lend you a couple of sixpences, and charge them in your account.

You had better go tomorrow, and take the whole day before you." Accordingly on the following day I started for Long Island in quest of work as a day laborer on a farm.
At that time Brooklyn was not, as now, a large, populous, and thriving city.

It was a small, sparsely-settled village; and the vast extent of land which is now laid out in streets and squares, and covered with costly edifices, was then improved for gardens, orchards, and farms.
I landed from the ferry boat and took my way along the public highway which led towards the interior of the island.

The rural aspect of a cultivated country, after having my view confined for many months to salt water and the unseemly masses of brick and mortar called cities, gladdened my heart; and I determined, in a spirit of true philosophy, to give vain cares and regrets to the wind, and pass one pleasant day in rambling about that agricultural district.
My efforts to obtain employment were not attended with success.

My sailor costume, my pale features, and my constitutional diffidence, which has always been a drag in my efforts to press forward in the world, served me not as a letter of recommendation among the shrewd and money-making farmers and gardeners of Long Island.