I could no longer refrain from declaring myself; and I made answer:—
“I am the Rolling Stone.”
Had I been a small and weak man, I should have been crushed and suffocated by the embraces of my mother and sister—so demonstrative were they in their expressions of surprise and joy!
As soon as our excitement had, to some extent, subsided; and we were able to converse a rational manner, I inquired after my brother William.
“I left him apprenticed to a harness-maker in Liverpool,” answered my mother.
“But where is he now?” I asked; “that was long ago.”
My mother began to weep; and Martha made answer for her.
“William ran away from his master; and we have never heard of him since.”
I requested to be informed what efforts had been made to find him. I was then told that my mother had written two or three times to the harness-maker; and from him had learnt that he had used every exertion, to discover the whereabouts of his runaway apprentice, but without success.
It appeared that my mother never liked to hear any one speak of William: for she had some unpleasant regrets at having left him behind her in Liverpool.