30 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



Richard Bedingfield, Bart., of Oxburgh, in Norfolk, to which place 

 1 sent it. The crucifix had been taken away from Rome by a 

 French general in 1796 : it was a present to my mother, and is now 

 at Walton Hall. 



" Up to the time of my leaving England for the Mediterranean, I 

 had been accustomed to drink a little beer at dinner ; but finding 

 the taste of it bitter on my return, I put the glass down upon the 

 table without swallowing its contents, and have never since drunk 

 one drop of fermented liquors. 



" The pestilence at Malaga had shaken me considerably. Being 

 but thinly clad, in coming up the Channel I caught a cold, which 

 attacked the lungs, and reduced me to the brink of the grave. I must 

 have sunk, had it not been for the skill of the late celebrated 

 surgeon, Mr Hey of Leeds : he set me on my legs again ; and I 

 again hunted with Lord Darlington. But the bleak and wintry wind 

 of England ill suited a frame naturally chilly, and injured by what 

 had already happened. I longed to bask in a warmer sun. 



" My paternal uncle having estates in Demerara, and my father 

 having lately made a purchase there, for the benefit of his younger 

 children, I petitioned to be allowed to go "out and superintend them, 

 seeing that there was no chance of travelling with comfort in Europe, 

 on account of the war, which had all the appearance of becoming 

 general." 



Waterton left Yorkshire in the autumn, at the beginning of the 

 hunting-season. As he was on his way to York to take the coach 

 for London, he met Lord Darlington, who was just about to throw 

 off, and who asked him where he was going. "To South America," 

 was the answer. " That is no place for a young man like you," said 

 the hunter ; " you had better get down and come with us ; we shall 

 have a splendid season/' " No, my Lord," said Waterton, " I '11 go 

 to South America." Lord Darlington wished him good-bye, and 

 Waterton from the top of the coach looked with longing eyes after 

 the hounds, till they disappeared in the distance. But though sorry 

 enough to leave them behind, he was ever afterwards glad that he 

 stuck to his determination. For the hunting-field, though delight- 

 ful, is too much of a play-ground for a man to ride on it all his life. 



