The winter holidays I spent with Mr Plowden in London, and in the summer he took me on a tour through a considerable portion of England, Scotland, and Ireland. I thus became acquainted with what I was taught to consider my native land, and was able to compare other countries with it. I own that, although I have always felt proud of the name of an Englishman, and of what Englishmen have done, yet there are many things in which the people of other nations are their superiors. Some of the faults of the English, as they appeared to me, were a want of unostentatious hospitality, a due respect to parents and superiors in age, and a churlishness of behaviour to those of the same rank, with an unwarrantable suspicion of their motives, and an inclination to criticise and find fault with their behaviour and appearance.
My summer holidays I enjoyed very much; but I was not fond of London; though, I believe, had I made a point of visiting all the spots of interest contained within it, and of gaining information about their history, I might have passed my time more profitably than I did. In those days there were fewer sights, so called, than at present; and the great lion was Exeter Change, truly a den of wild beasts. It was, indeed, painful to see animals deprived, not only of liberty, but of fresh air. I, who had faced the royal Bengal tiger and the fierce lion in their native wilds, could not help feeling some amount of contempt for the exhibition.
When I got back to school, I was welcomed by all the boys, especially by Blount and by John Prior, one of the oldest and most steady of them. He was, indeed, more particularly my friend and my constant companion. He was the son of a merchant connected with India, and reputed to be of great wealth. Of his father he said little, but his constant theme was his mother, who must have been a very excellent person. He averred that he had gained from her all the good in his composition; and certainly, judging from what I saw of him, she might well be content with the result of her prayers to Heaven for his improvement in virtue, and her own watchful and constant exertions. I do not mean to say that any one is perfect; but certainly John Prior was, in the true sense of the word, one of the best fellows I ever met. He gave me much of that advice and instruction which I have ever since found so important. He knew the great aim of life; he saw things in their true light, and taught me to see them also; he called things by their proper names; and while he could make ample allowance for the faults of others, he never attempted to extenuate his own errors; nor did he mistake vice for virtue, or the semblance of virtue for the reality. From the companionship of such a person I could not fail to reap much benefit. I did not enjoy it long. We afterwards met under very different circumstances in a far-off region, which he at that time did not dream of visiting. I had many other friends; I mention Prior and Blount because they will appear again in my narrative. I was pursuing my usual course of study, when one day I was summoned into the study. Mr Liston held an open letter in his hand.
“This is from your uncle, I mean Mr Plowden,” he began: “Sir Charles is ill, and wishes to have you with him. You are to return to India immediately, unless you desire the contrary.”
The first feeling this announcement created was somewhat selfish, I am afraid, or rather I did not realise the fact of my kind guardian’s illness; and my heart leaped at the thought of returning to India, with which country all my pleasantest recollections were associated.
“I wish to go, sir, as soon as I can,” I replied.
“You do not appear to regret leaving your school-fellows, and your other friends here,” observed Mr Liston, who naturally wished that all his boys should be fond of his school; and as he was making his fortune by means of it, had taught himself to believe that they must regard it with the same eyes of affection that he did.
“Yes, sir, I am though. I am sorry to leave many of the fellows; but you know Sir Charles is my oldest friend. Does he say that he is very ill, sir?”
“No; he talks of his declining strength, and of his wish to have some one about him in whom he can thoroughly confide,” said Mr Liston, fixing his eyes on me, as if he would read every thought passing in my mind.
“I long to be with him,” I answered quickly. “And, sir, if you knew what a kind and indulgent friend he has been to me, you would not be surprised.”