“During a tedious passage to the North, I remarked among the steerage passengers a man who seemed to keep himself apart from the rest.  He wore the uniform of the foot artillery, and sported a corporal’s stripes.  In the course of the afternoon, I stepped before the funnel, and entered into conversation with him; learned that he had been invalided and sent home from Canada, had passed the Board in London, obtained a pension of a shilling a-day, and was returning to a border village, where he had been born, to ascertain whether any of his family were living, from whom he had been separated nineteen years.  He casually admitted, that during this long interval he had held no communication with his relations; and I set him down accordingly as some wild scapegrace, who had stolen from a home whose happiness his follies had compromised too often.  He showed me his discharge—­the character was excellent,—­but it only went to prove how much men’s conduct will depend upon the circumstances under which they act.  He had been nineteen years a soldier—­a man ’under authority,’—­one obedient to another’s will, subservient to strict discipline, with scarcely a free agency himself, and yet, during that long probation, he had been a useful member of the body politic, sustained a fair reputation, and as he admitted himself, been a contented and happy man.  He returned home his own master, and older by twenty years.  Alas! it was a fatal free agency for him, for time had not brought wisdom.  The steward told me that he had ran riot while his means allowed it, had missed his passage twice, and had on the preceding evening come on board, when not a shilling remained to waste in drunken dissipation.  I desired that the poor man should be supplied with some little comforts during the voyage; and when we landed at Berwick, I gave him a trifling sum to assist him to reach his native village, where he had obtained vague intelligence that some aged members of his family might still be found.

“A few evenings afterwards, I was sitting in the parlor of one of the many little inns I visited while rambling on the banks of the Tweed, when the waitress informed me that ‘a sodger is speerin’ after the colonel.’  He was directed to attend the presence, and my fellow-voyager, the artilleryman, entered the chamber, and made his military salaam.

“‘I thought you were now at Jedburgh,’ I observed.

“‘I went there, sir,’ he replied, ’but there has not been any of my family for many a year residing in the place.  I met an old packman on the road, and he tells me there are some persons in this village of my name.  I came here to make inquiries, and hearing that your honor was in the house I made bold enough to ask for you.’

“‘Have you walked over?’ I inquired.

“‘Yes, sir,’ he replied.

“‘’Tis a long walk,’ said I; ’go down and get some supper before you commence inquiries.’

“The soldier bowed and left the room, and presently the host entered to give me directions for a route among the Cheviots, which I contemplated taking the following day.  I mentioned the soldier’s errand.