apt penman, and did
not prove himself so good a correspondent as we had hoped. We had a
letter from him written at Rio de Janeiro, and a short one from the Cape
of Good Hope. Then the ship went to India, and was there a couple of
years, during which time he wrote occasionally. At last he sent us a
few hurried lines from the Mauritius, saying that he was well, but that
the frigate was about to return to India, and on her way to visit
several interesting places.

Waiting for some time after the receipt of that letter, we began to be
anxious about receiving another, but none came. Day after day, week
after week, and month after month passed by, and we heard nothing. Our
disappointment was great, but our anxiety did not increase in the same
proportion, as we had no doubt that his letters had by some means
miscarried. We never allowed ourselves to suppose for a moment that the
ship had been lost, or that any other misfortune had occurred, still
less that Alfred himself was ill or had died. None of us, it seemed,
could have borne that thought. At last my father became really anxious
and wrote to the captain. He waited for a long time for a reply, and at
last he got one, not from the former captain, who had died from fever,
but from the officer who had been first lieutenant when my brother
sailed, saying that Mr Marsden had thought fit to quit his ship without
leave; he could not be considered as belonging to the navy, and that,
therefore, he had no further charge over him. He did not say where
Alfred had left the ship, or when, or why, allowing us to remain most
cruelly in a dreadful state of suspense. My father instantly wrote
again to make further inquiries, but during the time we were waiting for
the reply to the second letter, we saw it stated in the papers that the
gallant frigate had been lost, and that all hands on board had perished.
We grieved much at the idea that Alfred should have left his ship and
brought disgrace upon himself by becoming a deserter. At the same time,
we could not but with gratitude rejoice that he had escaped the dreadful
fate which had overtaken his companions. This circumstance was one of
the first griefs which had befallen our family. My father was much
troubled by it. He wrote again and again to various correspondents in
that part of the world, but received no satisfactory replies; none of
them had heard of Alfred. The surprising thing was that he did not
write himself. His