d
been successively called to join my poor mother in heaven, and all
that remained now to comfort my father was a younger sister and
myself. I must confess that my father received me with great emotion;
his own heavy afflictions from the loss of his children, and the
dangers I had undergone, as well as the authentic assurances he had
received of my good conduct were more than sufficient to bury all my
errors in oblivion; and he appeared, and I have no doubt really was,
fonder and prouder of me than ever.

As to what my own feelings were on this occasion, I shall not attempt
to disguise them. Sorry I certainly was for the death of my nearest
relatives; but when the intelligence reached me, I was in the midst of
the most active service. Death in all its forms had become familiar to
me; and so little impression did the event make on my mind, that I
did not interrupt the thread of my history to speak of it when it
occurred. I take shame to myself for not feeling more; but I am quite
sure, from this one instance in my life, that the feelings are blunted
in proportion to the increase of misery around us; that the parent
who, in a moment of peace and domestic tranquillity, would be agonized
at the loss of one child, would view the death of ten with comparative
indifference, when surrounded by war, pestilence, or famine.

My feelings, never very acute in this respect, were completely blunted
by my course of life. Those fond recollections which, in a calm scene,
would have wrung from me some tears to their memory, were now drowned
or absorbed in the waste, the profligacy, and the dissipation of war;
and shall I add, that I easily reconciled myself to a loss which was
likely so much to increase my worldly gain. For my eldest brother,
I own that, even from childhood, I had felt a jealousy and dislike,
fostered, as I think, in some measure unwisely, and in part
unavoidably, by the conduct of my parents. In all matters of choice
or distinction, Tom was to have the preference, because he was the
oldest: this I thought hard enough; but when Tom had new clothes at
Midsummer and Christmas, and his old ones were converted to my use,
I honestly own I wished the devil had Tom. As a point of economy,
perhaps, this could not be avoided; but it engendered a hatred towards
my brother which often made me, in my own little malignant mind, find
excuses for the conduct of Cain.

Tom was, to be sure, what is called a good boy; _he_ never soiled