62 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



11 In 1829 I became the happiest man in the world ; but it pleased 

 Heaven to convince me that all felicity here below is no more than 

 a mere illusive transitory dream, and I bow submissive to its ador- 

 able decrees. I am left with one fine little boy, who ' looks up to 

 me for light ; ' and I trust that I shall succeed in imparting it to 

 him ; for my sister, Mrs Carr, and her invaluable husband, together 

 with his aunts, Miss Edmonstone and Miss Helen Edmonstone, 

 know no bounds in their affection to him, and in their good offices 

 to myself, who stand so much in need of them. 



"Since the year 1825, 1 have not been in the transatlantic forests, 

 but have merely sauntered from time to time in Belgium, in Holland, 

 and in Germany, with my above-mentioned sisters-in-law. I was in 

 Belgium during the revolution for real liberty in religious matters. 

 I went into the large square at Bruges to see the Belgians engage 

 their enemies. As the balls whistled on all sides, I thought I might 

 as well live to see the row another day ; so, observing a door half 

 open, I felt much inclined to get under cover : but, just as I arrived 

 at the threshold, a fat old dame shut the door full in my face. 

 Thank, you, old lady, said I : * Felix quern fatiunt aliena pericula 

 cautam! " 



Waterton was married in the chapel of the English convent at 

 Bruges. His wife was daughter of the Charles Edmonstone men- 

 tioned in the " Wanderings," and of whom he says in one of his 

 letters that he was the greatest friend he ever had. This gentleman 

 was a junior member of the ancient Scottish house of his name, and 

 he spent the latter part of his life at Cardross Park, a place originally 

 granted to his family by Robert Bruce. His best years were passed 

 in Demerara. He was a tall man, with a martial countenance and 

 commanding aspect, which did not belie his disposition, for he had 

 headed fifteen expeditions against the Maroons. Honours and a 

 pension were offered him by the Crown, and he modestly declined 

 both. He had married a grand-daughter of the chief of the Arowak 

 Indians, a tribe remarkable for delicate beauty. His daughter Anne 

 was loveliness itself, and the mind which lighted up her features was 

 worthy of its frame. The marriage of Waterton was supremely happy 

 in everything except its brevity. Shortly after she had given birth 



