laSl.] The Man of Letters. 527 



superior merit on my part that had so elevated me above him, but merely 

 a more than usual share of that worldly influence which my father, from 

 his long connection with the Company, possessed. Jack and I, therefore, 

 though our march of rank had gone on, haud passibus cequis, had always 

 been sworn friends. Gallant, bustling, and jolly, he was in his outward 

 bearing a strange contrast to my subdued manner ; but still there w^as 

 something congenial in the condition of our minds which always kept 

 us together, though I had now and then to complain that he was some- 

 what too noisy for my taste. The sincerity of our sorrow at parting 

 was honest and real, such as a sailor's ought to be ; and I could not tear 

 myself away from him tiU I had made him promise, over and over again, 

 to pay me a visit at my country-house — one which, conjointly with a 

 pretty estate, my father had some years before purchased in the imme- 

 diate neighbourhood of the little borough of Eye, in Suffolk. 



At length, then, I was quit of the noisiness of a sailor's life, and at 

 liberty to direct my steps which way I would. For a while I tried 

 London, being chiefly tempted thereto by the persuasions of my only 

 sister, who had been left a widow with two daughters very shortly after 

 her marriage, and who had made it a point, even against the solicitations 

 of her father, to continue in the metropolis for the purpose of furthering 

 the education of her girls. 



At first, glad to escape the watery tumult that had beset me all my 

 life, I almost persuaded myself that London was a quiet place ; and with 

 the idea of settling in it I enlisted myself in a club, — got myself made a 

 fellow of the Royal Society, — and bought a renter's share of Drury-lane, 

 for the purpose of securing a free admission to the theatre. But I very 

 soon began to make the discovery that after all London was only quiet as 

 compared with the uproar of an Indiaman, and that per se there fell to 

 its lot a pretty considerable quantity of disturbance. As soon as I had 

 fully made up my mind to this conclusion, I determined to try my 

 country seat at Eye ; and then again there was another leave-taking to 

 go through, and, as may well be supposed, a much more noisy one than 

 the first, as in this case I had to deal with my sister and two nieces, in- 

 stead of a set of heroes, who had been too much tossed and tumbled 

 about the world to allow their eyes to twinkle, however much their 

 hearts might quiver. At length, however, after two or three floods of 

 tears, I was allowed to tear myself away, and to proceed on my solitary 

 journey to Eye, with a promise that as soon as the summer came round 

 I should be joined there by my weeping relations. That promise, alas, 

 was never performed in ftdl. i\Iy poor sister, a month or two after I 

 quitted London, died suddenly, and bequeathed her two daughters to my 

 care. The girls, who felt their mother's death most severely, were 

 glad enough to get away from the metropolis, and take refuge in my 

 quiet country seat, where after a while they became so domesticated, that 

 it seemed as if London was equally forgotten by us all, and as if I had 

 grafted upon their feminine spirits that same love of peace and tranquil- 

 lity, with which I myself was so deeply imbued. 



Thus for a year or two we lived in that happy serenity which con- 

 stitutes the great charm of a country life, and thus might we for ever 

 have continued but for a little incident, which, though I hope it has 

 blown over without any detriment, threatened at one time to disturb my 



[leace and repose in the most unceremonious manner, and which, as a 

 over of my species, I think it right to relate, that I may, if possible. 



