FINE SCENERY 13 



tlie stream of ancient lore, the sweet, refreshing drops of 

 an intellectual nectar. To him I am indebted for 

 imbibing a just appreciation of the value of the learning, 

 which harsh and untoward circumstances gave sub- 

 sequently to the winds. I need only add that during 

 the four years I was at his academy I may truly point to 

 the last two as being the most happy of my life. But 

 this was not to last. At the commencement of the 

 summer vacation, in the year 1806, I took my leave of 

 this worthy person, little thinking that I should never 

 ao:ain touch the hand of one who had directed and 

 encouraged my studious disposition, and so kindly 

 applauded my assiduity, and expressed his gratification 

 at the progress I had made — little supposing I should 

 never look upon those mild, intelligent features again — 

 but so it was. I remember to have heard from a near 

 relative of his, for whom I formed a sincere friendship 

 some few years afterwards, of his early death. The 

 intelligence caused me to recall to mind his many virtues 

 and commanding talents, and ever since to cherish for 

 them the greatest respect. 



My trunk having been sent by the carrier overnight to 

 the office in London, I walked, in company with one of 

 the ushers, over Putney Bridge, and awaited on Wimble- 

 don Common the coming by of the coach that was to 

 convey me to my father's dwelling, not dreaming of the 

 sudden turn my fortune or destiny was about to take. 



I have been on many roads in almost every part of 

 England, and in none have I ever witnessed finer scenery 

 than the ride from London to Portsmouth aftorded. To 

 be seen to perfection, it must be on a fine day from the 



