LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 63 



to a son, Mrs Waterton died. Grief overpowered her husband, and 

 for a week he spoke to no one. Religion gradually brought comfort 

 to his mind, but he never sufficiently forgot his sorrow to be able to 

 talk of her. He put up over the mantelpiece of the usual sitting- 

 room a picture of Saint Catharine of Alexandria, which had some 

 resemblance to her ; and when he sat with his eyes fixed upon it, or 

 was lost in reverie, those who were nearest to him knew what was in 

 his thoughts. 



Such recompense as earth could supply for his loss, Waterton 

 found in the society of his sisters-in-law, who, at his earnest entreaty, 

 came to live with him. He might have once more become a wan- 

 derer in the wilds of Guiana, if duty and affection to his son had not 

 kept him at home. He had ceased to belong to himself, and his 

 future travels were confined to excursions on the Continent. Two 

 of these journeys are the principal subject of the sequel to the former 

 part of his Autobiography, and his own narrative will now carry on 



the story. 



" Barbiton hie paries habebit." 



* This beautiful line from Horace is the last in the last page of the 

 former Essays. When I laid down the pen on the 3oth of Decem- 

 ber 1837, I thought that I should never take it up again. But it has 

 only slumbered for a few short years ; and the reader will see in the 

 preface to this second little volume, what ' has called it from the bed 

 of rest.' * My adventurous bark is once more rash enough to try its 

 fortune on the high sea of public opinion, where many a stouter 

 vessel, better rigged and better manned, has met an awful and un- 

 timely fate. 



" The first volume of Essays had not been much more than a year 

 on the ' world's wide stage/ when I began to sigh for the comforts 

 of a warmer sun ; and I should have left these realms of ' Boreas, 

 blustering railer, 3 to those who are fonder of his sway than I am, and 

 have gone to the South, had not a letter from my friend Mr Ord, the 

 accomplished biographer of poor Wilson, informed me that he was 



* " The volume which I now present to an indulgent public is an unsolicited 

 donation to the widow of my poor departed friend Mr Loudon." Preface to 

 Essays, Series II. 



