266 JfATUBAL HISTOBY SKETCHES. 



Cease we our chronicles, and now we pause, 

 Though not for want of matter ; but 'tis time. 



It is now some years since I left my home " a vagabond 

 to be," and during that period have wandered over many 

 lands, my gun and fishing-rod my only companions a 

 true citizen of the world. 



In the prime of years, in the full flush of youth and 

 strength, such a life offers charms of wild independence, 

 which can never be realized by that man who is tied to 

 one spot; no matter with what comforts he may be 

 surrounded, or what sport he may enjoy, ready made to 

 hand. But as years creep on, and a man begins to feel 

 that " the old gentleman with the scythe" is pressing 

 hard upon his heels, his enthusiasm will in a measure 

 abate ; and the more he has buffeted with the rude waves 

 of the world, the greater will be his desire to cast anchor 

 in some quiet haven,which he may regard as a permanent 

 home in declining years. For how truly has Sam Slick 

 described the dark side of the wanderer's life in the fol- 

 lowing words : " Here to-day, gone to-morrow ; to know 

 folks but to forget them ; to love folks but to part with 

 them ; to come without pleasure, to go without pain ; 

 and at last, for a last will come to every story, still no 

 home." Never, perhaps, was the history of a life written 

 in so short a sentence. 



Sterne wisely remarks : " Matter grows under our 

 hands ; let no man say, come, I will write a duodecimo." 

 This must be my excuse if my wanderings have led the 

 reader too far. My fitness for the task I have under- 



