The morning after reaching Birmingham, I went in search of the place, where Brown had told me to enquire for him.
Just before his departure from the diggings, he had seen a man fresh from Birmingham; and had learnt from him, that a young fellow—with whom he had once been acquainted—was then keeping a public-house formerly much frequented by his father.
The old convict had said, that from this tavern keeper he should be able to learn all about his family; and had directed me, in case of my ever coming to Birmingham, to inquire for himself at the same address.
I found the tavern without much trouble. It was what might be called, either in Birmingham or Glasgow, a “third class” public-house; but would not have been licensed for such a purpose in any other city.
I saw the landlord; and requested him to give me the address of “Richard Brown.” After some hesitation, my request was complied with.
On proceeding to the place, I had the good fortune to find my old mate at home.
I had no occasion to regret paying him this visit: for the happiness it seemed to cause him, was worth making a long journey to confer.
“You are the only one,” said he, “to whom I told my story in the colonies. You remember with what little hope I returned home; and I know you are just the man to be pleased at what I have to tell you.”
“I am certainly pleased,” said I, “at what I already see. I find you living in a quiet, comfortable home; and, to all appearance, contented.”
“Yes,” joyfully answered Brown, “and I am all that I appear, even more happy than you can imagine. But I must tell you all about it. On my return, I found my mother still living, and in a workhouse. My brother was married; and had a large family—fighting, as he and I used to do, against death from starvation. I did not go to my mother in the workhouse. I did not wish to meet her there, in presence of people who could not have understood my feelings. After learning that she was there, I took this house; and furnished it on the same day. My brother then went to the workhouse, took our mother out of it, brought her here, and told her it was her own home, and that everything she saw belonged to her. He then explained the puzzle—by bringing us together. The poor old lady was nearly mad with joy; and I believe that I was at that moment the happiest man in England. I am not certain, but that I am so yet. The pleasure I have had in placing my mother beyond the reach of want, and in aiding my brother—who only required the use of a few pounds, to enable him to make a comfortable living—has far more than repaid me, for all the hardships and sorrows of the past.”