I went to the Theatre, and prepared for my appearance. The house was crowded to excess. I came upon the stage with a fluttering heart, amidst universal silence. I bowed, and attempted to speak; my lips obeyed the impulse, but my voice had fled. In that moment of bitter agony and shame, my punishment commenced.--I trembled; a cold sweat oozed through every pore; my father and mother’s words rung in my ears; my senses became confused--hisses began from the audience--I utterly failed. From the confusion of my mind, I could not even comprehend the place in which I stood. To conclude, I shrunk unseen from the theatre, bewildered, and in a state of despair. I wandered the whole night. In the morning early, meeting a party of recruits about to embark, I rashly offered to go with them; my offer was accepted, and I embarked at Leith, with seventeen others, for the Isle of Wight, in July, 1806. The morning was beautiful and refreshing. A fine breeze wafted us from the roads. The darkness of the preceding night only tended to deepen the gloomy agitation of my mind; but the beauties of the morning scene stole over my soul, and stilled the perturbation of my mind. The violent beat of the pulse at my temples subsided, and I, as it were, awoke from a dream. I turned my eyes from the beauties of the Forth, to the deck of the vessel on which I stood; I had not yet exchanged words with any of my fellow-recruits; I now inquired of the sergeant, to what regiment I had engaged myself? His answer was, “To the gallant 71st; you are a noble lad, and shall be an officer.” He ran on in this fulsome cant for some time. I heard him not. Tantallon[1] and the Bass[2] were only a little way from us; we were quickly leaving behind all that was dear to me, and all I ought to regret. The shores of Lothian had vanished; we had passed Dunbar; I was seized with a sudden agitation; a menacing voice seemed to ask, “What do you here? What is to become of your parents?” The blood forsook my heart; a delirium followed, and I fell on the deck.