who went out with the General
to help colonise Georgia, as they called the country after his Majesty
King George the Second, and went through perils and dangers such as no
one but English gentlemen and their brave followers would dare and
overcome.

You'll find it all in your histories; how the General had leave to take
so many followers, and carve out for themselves land and estates in the
beautiful new country.

My father was one of the party. He went, for he was sick at heart and
despondent. He had married a sweet English lady--my mother--and when I
was about six years old she died; and after growing more and more
unhappy for a couple of years, his friends told him that if he did not
seek active life of some kind, he would die too, and leave me an orphan
indeed.

That frightened him so that he raised himself up from his despondent
state, readily embraced the opportunity offered by the General's
expedition, sold his house in the country to which he had retired on
leaving the army, and was going out to the southern part of North
America with me only. But Sarah would not hear of parting from me, and
begged my father to take her to be my attendant and his servant, just as
on the same day Morgan Johns, our gardener, had volunteered to go with
his master. Not that he was exactly a gardener, though he was full of
gardening knowledge, and was a gardener's son; for he had been in my
father's company in the old regiment, and when my father left it,
followed him down and settled quite into a domestic life.

Well, as Morgan Johns volunteered to go with the expedition, and said
nothing would suit him better than gardening in a new country, and doing
a bit of fighting if it was wanted, and as our Sarah had volunteered
too, it fell out quite as a matter of course, that one day as my father
was seated in his room writing letters, and making his final
preparations for his venturesome journey, and while I was seated there
looking at the pictures in a book, Morgan and Sarah came in dressed in
their best clothes, and stood both of them looking very red in the face.

"Well?" said my father, in the cold, stern way in which he generally
spoke then; "what is it?"

"Tell him, Sarah," I heard Morgan whisper, for I had gone up to put my
hand in hers.

"For shame!" she said; "it's you who ought."

"Now look you," said Morgan, who was a Welshman, and spoke very Welshy
sometimes, "didn't you just go and promise to help and obey? An