There is one thing in my narrative, that may appear remarkable to the reader--perhaps scarce truthful; and that is, the facility with which I made so many friends. An explanation of this may not be out of place. I was always in earnest in what little I had to say. No one could converse long with me, without discovering that I was sincere in what I said. I do not claim this as a trait of character peculiar to myself; but I do affirm--as far as my experience has instructed me--that it is not so with the majority of mankind. Language is too often used, as the means for concealing thoughts--instead of expressing them. Thousands of people say what they do not mean; and sometimes gain friends by it. But it is a friendship false as it is fleeting; and often confers on him who obtains it, more disappointment and trouble, than he would be likely to have with avowed enemies. Nothing transpired during our home voyage, worthy of particular notice. After passing some small islands, that lie near the coast of Port Philip, we never sighted land again for three months! On the ninety-second day of our voyage, the cheering cry of "Land ho!" resounded through the ship; and, hastening on deck, we looked upon the white cliffs of Dover. Great was the joy of Mrs Morell and her daughter, at once more beholding their native shores; and I could envy my brother, who had contributed so much to the happiness of others, and at the same time so successfully established his own. We landed at Portsmouth; and proceeded to London by rail. Before parting with Captain Nowell--who had to remain a few days with his ship--I promised to visit him in his London house--the address of which he had already made known to me. A few hours after, I entered, for the first time, within the limits of the world's metropolis. Volume Three, Chapter XXIII. LIFE IN LONDON. After staying one night at a hotel, we went into private lodgings at Brompton. For several days after our arrival, my brother was employed in the pleasant duty of escorting his wife and mother-in-law--on a round of visits to their numerous old acquaintances, while I was left to wander alone through the streets of the stupendous city. I had anticipated some little pleasure in visiting the far-famed metropolis; but in this I was disappointed; and soon began to feel regret for having left behind me the free life I had been pursuing on the gold-fields. I had some business, however, to transact, even in London. The gold I had obtained in California--along with that bequeathed to me by poor old Stormy Jack--had been forwarded to the Bank of England; and about a week after my arrival, I went down to the city, to draw out the money deposit that was due to me. On presenting myself to the cashier, I was told that it would be necessary for me to bring some responsible person, to say that my name was Rowland Stone. This individual must be known to the authorities of the Bank.