Throughout the whole of this weary time, however, he never relinquished--so indomitable was his spirit--the hope of a better time approaching. Once at Liverpool, indeed, for a short stay in 1869, he writes upon this subject, “I like to be where I can be amused and see life without having to take part in it, though I would fifty times rather be at work at something. I wonder,” he adds, “whether I ever shall be again.” And he _was_ at work again, not quite two years later, once more restored to health, and busily preparing for a trip across the Atlantic, which had been recommended to him for the thorough re-establishment of his health, and which accorded happily with the early fancies of his boyhood. It was by this time almost too late for him, even had he now wished it, to have thought seriously of adopting one of the recognized professions. A few years earlier he had thought both of the army and the bar; but with the love of adventure and research so strong within him, it is scarcely probable, had he adopted either, that he would have endured their trammels long. Once, too, it had seemed not unlikely that his strong love of painting, which held with his passion for natural history divided sway over his earlier years, might have proved the more powerful impulse of the two, and led him ultimately to the definite pursuit of art. In choosing against it, however, he probably selected well, as the somewhat sedentary life thereby involved would not so well have harmonized with his constitutional need for physical activity. On this expedition to America he was absent about a year, a considerable portion of the time being spent in Central America--chiefly in Guatemala,--and a part of it in California, camping out amongst the Rocky Mountains. Unlooked for circumstances brought his journey to a speedier close than he had intended; but if unaccompanied by other results, he was at least successful in forming a collection of birds and insects of some interest and value, and contracted several valuable friendships. “His manliness and irreproachable conduct and kindliness,” wrote Sir Henry Scholfield, the British Consul at Guatemala, after his decease, “gained for him, during his short stay here, a friend in every one he met.” And wherever else in the country he made any sort of stay, he appeared to have been scarcely less fortunate in this respect.