believe that what he has decided is for
the best. At my earnest solicitation, he consented that you should take
only a short voyage first to North America, provided that you sail
without delay. Accordingly, I have agreed to set off to-morrow with you
for Liverpool, whence many ships sail for that part of the world, and I
dare say that I shall find some captain to take charge of you. Do you
consent to abide by this arrangement?"

"I think Lord Fetherston is right," I replied. "The life of a sailor,
if what I know of it is correct (little in truth did I know of it), will
just suit me; and though I regret to go as I am going, and grieve to
wound my mother's heart, yet I consider that I am very leniently dealt
with, and will gladly accept the conditions." So it was settled, and my
father led me out of my prison. Lord Fetherston met us as we left the
mansion.

"My son gratefully accepts your conditions, my lord," said my father,
colouring. His pride, I fear, was humbled to the dust (alas! through
me) when he said so. "I shall fulfil to the letter your lordship's
commands."

"I am glad to hear it, Mr Lefroy; depend on it, you act wisely," said
Lord Fetherston. "And I trust that we part without malice, young man,"
addressing me. "You have my well-wishes, I can assure you." He held
out his hand, and I shook it, I believe gratefully, though I said
nothing; and without another word I jumped into the car which had
brought my father, and we drove home.

There was much grief and sorrow when we got there, and many a tear in
the eyes of my mother and my sweet, ever kind, sisters as they packed up
my little kit; but not a word of reproach. Thus passed the last day for
many a long year that I spent at home.

Let me tell those who wish to quit their homes to go roaming round the
world in search of what they know not, that though they chance to bring
back shiploads of riches, they will find no jewels comparable in price
to a another's fond love, a father's protecting affection, the sweet
forbearing regard of tender sisters, a brother's hearty interest, or the
calm tranquillity of the family roof.

I write for the large and happy majority of my readers: some few are
less fortunate, and they in truth deserve the sympathy of the rest.
Cherish, I say, while you can, the affections of your home; and depend
on it, when far away, the recollection alone will be like a refreshing
spot in the weary desert through which your path