were only a little way from us.

and the Bass + We were quick

ly leaving behind all that was dear to me, and all I ought to regret the shores of Lothian had vanished; we had passed Dunbar. I was seized with a sudden agitation; a menacing voice seemed to ask, "What do you here? What is to become of your parents?" The blood forsook my heart; a delirium followed, and I fell on the deck.

I have no recollection of what passed for some days. I was roused out of my lethargy by a bustle over my head. It was the fearful noise of a storm, which had overtaken us in Yarmouth Roads. The looks of despair, and the lamentable cries of the passengers, pierced me. I looked upon myself as the only cause of our present danger, like Jonah, overtaken in my guilty flight. The thought of acknowledging myself the sole cause of the storm more than once crossed my mind. I certainly would have done so, had not the violent rocking of the vessel disqualified me from leaving the bed on which I lay. I was obliged to press my feet against one side, and my shoulder against another, to preserve myself from receiving contusions. Striving to assuage the anguish of my feelings in prayer, I was the only composed person there; all around me were bewailing their fate in tears and lamentations. I had seen nothing of the storm, as the passengers were all kept down below, to prevent their incommoding the seamen. During its continuance, I had made up my mind with regard to my future proceedings. As an a

* A ruinous castle on the shore.
† A rocky islet in the River Forth.

tonement for my past misconduct, I resolved to undergo all the dangers and fatigues of a private soldier, for seven years. This limitation of service I was enabled to adopt, by the excellent bill brought into Parliament by the late Mr Windham.

Without further accident, we arrived safe at the Isle of Wight, where I was enlisted, and sworn to serve my king and country faithfully for the space of seven years, for which I received a bounty of eleven guineas. The price thus paid for my liberty was the first money I could ever call my own. Of this sum it required about four pounds to furnish my necessaries, assisted by the sale of my present clothing; of the remainder, I sent five pounds to my parents, with the following letter:

NEWPORT BARRACKS,

Isle of Wight, July 1806. FATHER,-If a disobedient and undutiful son . may still address you by that dear and now muchvalued name;—and my mother!—the blood forsakes my heart, and my hand refuses to move, when I think upon that unhallowed night I left your peaceful roof to follow my foolish and wayward inclinations. O, I have suffered, and must ever suffer, for my guilty conduct. Pardon me! pardon me! I can hardly hope-yet, O, drive me not to despair! I have doomed myself to seven years' punishment. I made this choice in an hour of shame. I could not appear in Edinburgh after what had happened. Never shall I again do any thing to bring shame upon myself or you. The hope of your pardon and forgiveness alone sustains

me.

Again I implore pardon on my knees.

Would I could lay my head at your feet! then would I not rise till you pronounced my pardon, and raised to your embrace your wretched

THOMAS.

Now I began to drink the cup of bitterness. How different was my situation from what it had been! Forced from bed at five o'clock each morning, to get all things ready for drill; then drilled for three hours with the most unfeeling rigour, and often beat by the sergeant for the faults of others. I, who had never been crossed at home-I, who never knew fatigue, was now fainting under it. This I bore without a murmur, as I had looked to it in my engagement. My greatest sufferings were where I had not expected them.

I could not associate with the common soldiers; their habits made me shudder. I feared an oaththey never spoke without one: I could not drinkthey loved liquor: They gamed-I knew nothing of play. Thus was I a solitary individual among hundreds. They lost no opportunity of teasing me; Saucy Tom, or "The distressed Methodist, were the names they distinguished me by. I had no way of redress, until an event occurred, that gave me, against my will, an opportunity to prove that my spirit was above insult.

A recruit who had joined at the same time with myself, was particularly active in his endeavours to turn me into ridicule. One evening, I was sitting in a side-window, reading. Of an old newspaper he made a fool's cap, and, unperceived by me, placed it upon my head. Fired at the insult, I started up and knocked him down.—“ Clear the room; a ring, a ring,-the Methodist is going to fight," was vociferated from all sides. Repenting

my haste, yet determined not to affront myself, I stood firm, and determined to do my utmost. My antagonist, stunned by the violence of the blow, and surprised at the spirit I displayed, rose slowly, and stood irresolute. I demanded an apology.— He began to bluster and threaten, but I saw at once that he was afraid; and, turning from him, said, in a cool decided manner, "If you dare again insult me, I will chastise you as you deserve; you are beneath my anger. I again sat down, and resumed my reading, as if nothing had happened.

From this time I was no longer insulted; and I became much esteemed among my fellow-soldiers, who before despised me. Still, I could not associate with them. Their pleasures were repugnant to my feelings.

There was one of my fellow-soldiers, Donald M'Donald, who seemed to take pleasure in my company. We became attached to each other. He came up in the same Smack with myself: He was my bed-fellow, and became my firm friend. Often would he get himself into altercations on my account. Donald could read and write: this was the sum of his education. He was innocent, and ignorant of the world; only eighteen years of age, and had never been a night from home, before he left his father's house, more than myself. To be a soldier was the height of his ambition. He had come from near Inverness to Edinburgh, on foot, with no other intention than to enlist in the 71st. His father had been a soldier in it, and was now living at home, after being discharged. Donald called it his regiment, and would not have taken the bounty from any other.

To increase my grief, I was ordered to embark

for the Cape of Good Hope, fifteen days after my arrival in the Isle of Wight, and before I had received an answer to my letter to my father. If my mind had been at ease, I would have enjoyed this voyage much. We had very pleasant weather, and were not crowded in our births. There were six soldiers to a birth, and we were at liberty to be on deck all day, if we chose.

The first land I saw, after leaving the Channel, was Porto Santo. It is very low, yet we could distinguish it plainly while we were thirty miles off. It has the appearance of a collection of small hills ending in peaks. In a short time after, we had a most pleasant sight: the island of Madeira, covered with delightful verdure. The view of it calmed me greatly; and I felt just as I had done, the first time I saw the country, after a long illness in which my life was despaired of. How much was that pleasure increased, when we anchored between the Desertas and the island! The weather was beautiful and clear; we lay at a distance of not more than six or seven miles, at most, from the shore. The island is quite unlike Porto Santo. It seems to be one continued mountain, running from east to west, covered with stately trees and verdure. Every spot looked more luxuriant than another. As it is approached from the east, it has the appearance of a crescent, or new moon; the corners pointed towards you.

While we lay there, we had boats alongside, every day, with oranges, lemons, figs, and many other fruits, which we purchased at a rate that surprised us, considering how dearly we had been accustomed to purchase them in England.

As soon as we cast anchor, the health-boat came