brother, I own that, even from childhood, I had felt a jealousy and dislike, fostered, as I think, in some measure unwisely, and in part unavoidably, by the conduct of my parents.  In all matters of choice or distinction, Tom was to have the preference, because he was the oldest:  this I thought hard enough; but when Tom had new clothes at Midsummer and Christmas, and his old ones were converted to my use, I honestly own I wished the devil had Tom.  As a point of economy, perhaps, this could not be avoided; but it engendered a hatred towards my brother which often made me, in my own little malignant mind, find excuses for the conduct of Cain.

Tom was, to be sure, what is called a good boy; he never soiled his clothes, as I did.  I was always considered as a rantipole, for whom any thing was good enough.  But when I saw my brother tricked out in new clothes, and his old duds covering me, like a scarecrow, I appeal to any honourable mind whether it was in human nature to feel otherwise than I did, without possessing an angelic disposition, to which I never pretended; and I fairly own that I did shed not one fiftieth part so many tears over Tom’s grave, as I did over his dirty pantaloons, when forced to put them on.

As for my sisters, I knew little about them, and cared less:  we met during the holidays, and separated, without regret, after a month’s quarrelling.  When I went to sea, I ceased to think about them, concluding there was no love lost; but when I found that death had for ever robbed me of two of them, I felt the irretrievable loss.  I reproached myself with my coldness and neglect; and the affection I had denied to them, I heaped threefold on my remaining sister:  even before I had ever seen her on my return, the tide of fraternal love flowed towards her with an uncontrollable violence.  All that I ought to have felt towards the others, was concentrated in her, and displayed itself with a force which surprised even myself.

Perhaps the reader may be astonished that my first inquiry in London, when I had seen my father and my family, should not have been after poor Eugenia, whom I had left, and who also had quitted me, under such very peculiar and interesting circumstances.  I cannot, however, claim much credit for having performed this duty.  I did go, without loss of time, to her agent; and all that my most urgent entreaty could obtain from him was that she was well; that I still had credit at his house for any sum I chose to draw for in moderation; but that her place of abode must, till farther orders from her, remain a secret.

As my father did not want interest, and my claims were backed by good certificates, I received my commission as a lieutenant in his Majesty’s navy about a fortnight after my arrival in London; but not being appointed to any ship, I resolved to enjoy the “otium cum dig.,” and endeavour to make myself some amends for the hard campaign I had so lately completed in North America.  I felt the transport