THE EMIGRANT'S LOST SON.
CHAPTER I.
CAUSE OF LEAVING ENGLAND AND ARRIVAL AT THE FOREST.
"On the bosom, lone and still,
Of nature east, I early sought to stroll
Through wood and wild, o'er forest, rook, and hill,
Companionless; without a wish or goal,
Save to discover every shape and voice
Of living thing that there did fearlessly rejoice."
As it is my object to lay before my readers only that portion of my life which was passed in the wilds of nature, it will be unnecessary for me to detain them with a lengthened account of the genealogy of my family.
My father occupied a small farm in the west of England, situate near a peaceful village, the curate of which superintended the education of myself and some fourteen or fifteen of the neighbouring youths. I was between ten and eleven years of age, when a stranger arrived at our house, informing the family that, in consequence of the death of my father's elder brother, he, together with two surviving brothers, had jointly become the proprietors of a tract of land situate in the south-western part of Guiana.
It subsequently appeared that my deceased uncle had speculated in the purchase of the land in question, intending to have invited his three brothers to join him in the cultivation of it. Death frustrated these intentions, the land became the joint property of the survivors, and after using every effort to dispose of it in this country, being unsuccessful in meeting with a purchaser, the three brothers came to the resolution of going out, together with their families, and sharing their newly-acquired property.
First leaving home
When the order was finally given to prepare for the voyage, it operated on my mind almost as a penal sentence; expatriation presented itself to my imagination as the climax of all evils. It now suddenly occurred to me that I had a thousand local attachments, all of which were to be broken asunder; my imagination passing in review a painful parting with my schoolfellows and other intimates; when all the early and recent scenes of my short career poured in on the memory, and seemed to bind me to the immediate locality of my existence and its environs. I then discovered that I had a real attachment for my teacher, the good pastor of a small flock; indeed, every person known to me, I thought had, in some way, been peculiarly kind, and a torrent of gratitude overflowed the heart; while the idea of quitting the scenes of my childhood, and all I then knew of the world, presented itself as the annihilation of every object from which I had hitherto derived pleasure.