was devoted to my mother, conversing with her and reading to her; youthful companions I had none, and as to my mother, she lived in the greatest retirement, devoting herself to the superintendence of my education, and the practice of acts of charity; nothing could be more innocent than this mode of life, and some people say that in innocence there is happiness, yet I can’t say that I was happy.  A continual dread overshadowed my mind, it was the dread of my mother’s death.  Her constitution had never been strong, and it had been considerably shaken by her last illness; this I knew, and this I saw—­for the eyes of fear are marvellously keen.  Well, things went on in this way till I had come of age; my tutors were then dismissed, and my uncle the baronet took me in hand, telling my mother that it was high time for him to exert his authority; that I must see something of the world, for that, if I remained much longer with her, I should be ruined.  “You must consign him to me,” said he, “and I will introduce him to the world.”  My mother sighed and consented; so my uncle the baronet introduced me to the world, took me to horse-races and to London, and endeavoured to make a man of me according to his idea of the term, and in part succeeded.  I became moderately dissipated—­I say moderately, for dissipation had but little zest for me.

’In this manner four years passed over.  It happened that I was in London in the height of the season with my uncle, at his house; one morning he summoned me into the parlour, he was standing before the fire, and looked very serious.  “I have had a letter,” said he; “your mother is very ill.”  I staggered, and touched the nearest object to me; nothing was said for two or three minutes, and then my uncle put his lips to my ear and whispered something.  I fell down senseless.  My mother was . . .  I remember nothing for a long time—­for two years I was out of my mind; at the end of this time I recovered, or partly so.  My uncle the baronet was very kind to me; he advised me to travel, he offered to go with me.  I told him he was very kind, but I would rather go by myself.  So I went abroad, and saw, amongst other things, Rome and the Pyramids.  By frequent change of scene my mind became not happy, but tolerably tranquil.  I continued abroad some years, when, becoming tired of travelling, I came home, found my uncle the baronet alive, hearty, and unmarried, as he still is.  He received me very kindly, took me to Newmarket, and said that he hoped by this time I was become quite a man of the world; by his advice I took a house in town, in which I lived during the season.  In summer I strolled from one watering-place to another; and, in order to pass the time, I became very dissipated.