He
was, indeed, more particularly my friend and my constant companion. He
was the son of a merchant connected with India, and reputed to be of
great wealth. Of his father he said little, but his constant theme was
his mother, who must have been a very excellent person. He averred that
he had gained from her all the good in his composition; and certainly,
judging from what I saw of him, she might well be content with the
result of her prayers to Heaven for his improvement in virtue, and her
own watchful and constant exertions. I do not mean to say that any one
is perfect; but certainly John Prior was, in the true sense of the word,
one of the best fellows I ever met. He gave me much of that advice and
instruction which I have ever since found so important. He knew the
great aim of life; he saw things in their true light, and taught me to
see them also; he called things by their proper names; and while he
could make ample allowance for the faults of others, he never attempted
to extenuate his own errors; nor did he mistake vice for virtue, or the
semblance of virtue for the reality. From the companionship of such a
person I could not fail to reap much benefit. I did not enjoy it long.
We afterwards met under very different circumstances in a far-off
region, which he at that time did not dream of visiting. I had many
other friends; I mention Prior and Blount because they will appear again
in my narrative. I was pursuing my usual course of study, when one day
I was summoned into the study. Mr Liston held an open letter in his
hand.

"This is from your uncle, I mean Mr Plowden," he began: "Sir Charles is
ill, and wishes to have you with him. You are to return to India
immediately, unless you desire the contrary."

The first feeling this announcement created was somewhat selfish, I am
afraid, or rather I did not realise the fact of my kind guardian's
illness; and my heart leaped at the thought of returning to India, with
which country all my pleasantest recollections were associated.

"I wish to go, sir, as soon as I can," I replied.

"You do not appear to regret leaving your school-fellows, and your other
friends here," observed Mr Liston, who naturally wished that all his
boys should be fond of his school; and as he was making his fortune by
means of it, had taught himself to believe that they must regard it with
the same eyes of affection that he did.

"Yes, sir, I am though. I am sorry to leave many of