Another anecdote of the child bears upon a leading characteristic in the after life of the man.  My late lamented brother, W.T.  Wills, who has since died at Belleville, in Upper Canada, was on a visit at my house from abroad.  He had occasion to go to Plymouth and Devonport, and I engaged to drive him over in a gig.  A petition was made to his mother, that little Willy might accompany us.  It was granted, and we put up for the night at the Royal Hotel, at Devonport, where he became quite a lion.  The landlady and servants were much taken by their juvenile visitor.  The next morning, my brother and I had arranged to breakfast at ten, each having early business of his own to attend to, in different directions.  When we returned at the appointed time, the boy was missing.  None of the household had seen him for an hour.  Each supposed that someone else had taken charge of him.  After a twenty minutes’ search in all directions by the whole establishment, he was discovered at the window of a nautical instrument maker’s shop, eight or ten doors below the inn, on the same side of the street, within the recess of the door-way, gazing in riveted attention on the attractive display before him.  The owner told me that he had noticed him for more than an hour in the same place, examining the instruments with the eye of a connoisseur, as if he understood them.  His thirst for knowledge had superseded his appetite for breakfast.  About twelve months subsequent to this date, we had nearly lost him for ever, in a severe attack of remittent fever.  At the end of a fortnight, the danger passed away and he was restored to us.  As he lay in complete prostration from the consequent weakness, our old and faithful servant, Anne Winter, who seldom left him, became fearful that his intellects might be affected; and I shall never forget her heartfelt delight and thankfulness when she saw him notice and laugh at the ludicrous incident of a neighbour’s tame magpie hopping upon his bed.  The effect of this fever was to alter the contour of his features permanently, to a longer shape, giving him a more striking resemblance to his mother’s family than to mine.  His utterance, also, which had been voluble, became slow and slightly hesitating.

For some time after this he resided at home, under my own tuition.  Our intercourse, even at this early age, was that of friendly companionship.  Instructing him was no task; his natural diligence relieved me from all trouble in fixing his attention.  We were both fond of history.  From what I recollect, he took more interest in that of Rome than of Greece or England.  Virgil and Pope were his favourite poets.  He was very earnest with his mother in studying the principles of the Christian religion.  More than once my wife remarked, “that boy astonishes me by the shrewdness with which he puts questions on different points of doctrine.”  In his readings with me he was never satisfied with bare statements unaccompanied by reasons.  He was always