1812.] 



THE AUTHOR'S EARLY LIFE. 



xm 



is no small gratification to my feelings at the present moment, that I 

 am favoured with an opportunity of thus bearing public testimony to 

 the professional merits of this gentleman, as well as to the amiable 

 qualities of his heart. He dropped a manly tear at our parting, and 

 his cordial " God bless you, my lads !" was sensibly felt by every 

 heart among us. After interchanging an affectionate farewell with 

 other kind friends and acquaintances, we set sail for our native land, 

 and in a few days arrived in safety at Boston. 



I now found mj^self restored to liberty from a state of captivity ; a 

 freeman in my native country, treading the soil of independence. 

 This side of the picture was not without its charms. But I was pen- 

 niless, and among strangers ; in the language of Dr. Watts, 



" Alike unknowing and unknown j" 



many miles from my paternal home ; longing, yet dreading to meet 

 my father, without even a change of linen, or the means of procuring 

 such a luxury. This side of the picture was shaded in gloom, and I 

 hesitated what course to pursue. As a prompt decision, however, was 

 indispensably necessary, I made up my mind to go home, and started 

 for Stonington on foot, trusting to chance and charity for food and 

 lodging on the road, and to parental affection for a pardon and cordial 

 reception at the termination of my journey. One of my comrades only 

 accompanied me ; and though his pockets were light as my own, yet 

 " misery loves company," and our conversation tended to beguile the 

 tediousness of the way. So we journeyed on together, being some- 

 times received and entertained with warm hospitality and kindness, at 

 other times treated with churlish indifference, or repulsed with unfeeling 

 rudeness. 



When w T e had arrived at a place within about fifteen miles of Sto- 

 nington, my companion found a friend from whom he borrowed a horse, 

 and rode on before me to my father's home, to communicate the intel- 

 ligence that his son was on the road, and thus prepare him and the 

 family for the approaching meeting. From the departure of my 

 messenger until the first interview with my father, my feelings may 

 more easily be conceived than described. 



On hearing that his " lost son was found," and returning, like the 

 repentant prodigal to seek a reconciliation with his father, parental 

 affection triumphed over every other feeling. " And while he was yet a 

 great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and 

 fell on his neck, and kissed him." This was almost literally the case 

 with me. On hearing the report of the messenger, my father instantly 

 ordered a carriage, and rode out of town to meet me. I shall not 

 attempt to describe the long desired, long dreaded interview. It took 

 place on the road, and resulted in the mutual satisfaction of both 

 parties. His heart was overflowing with tenderness and forgiveness ; 

 mine with gratitude and affection. The meeting with my mother, 

 sisters, and brothers was equally affecting. " The best robe" was put 

 upon me, " and shoes upon my feet." " The fatted calf was killed," 

 and we " did all eat, and were merry." 



