I returned to my friend's, where I had left my horse; and, having taken some slight refreshment, I proceeded without loss of time towards home. Such a melancholy journey I never took before, nor have ever taken since! My mind was wholly absorbed in the reflection that it was possible I should so soon lose the best of fathers, of whose real value I seemed never to have had a true estimation till now that I felt the dread of losing him. A thousand sad forebodings hurried across my brain, and I began already to feel that I had lost the best, the truest and the most sincere friend whom I had in the world. Thus it is with poor weak mortals; they seldom know how to appreciate the most inestimable blessings, till they are in danger of being deprived of them! In this sad state I soon reached Devizes, a distance of nineteen miles, on my return, scarcely having noticed any of the objects which I had passed. I called upon Mr. Clare, and left a note for him, to be ready by six o'clock in the morning, and I ordered four of the best post horses at the Bear to be in waiting at Mr. Clare's door at that hour. Then, without making any other delay, I spurred forward, and reached my father's house within a few minutes of three o'clock. I found him much in the same state as when I left him at eight in the morning. My journey to Bath and back, _sixty miles_, I had completed including my stay there, in seven hours; having now ridden, in the whole, upon two horses, a distance of eighty-six miles. My poor father, who had been anxiously expecting my return, expressed great satisfaction at my speed; and taking my hand, he said, "Ah! you are a generous, kind-hearted soul. I told your sister that, if you could find Mr. Grant in any reasonable time, you would return by three o'clock. I knew the horse would carry you the sixty miles in six hours; and I also knew that nothing on earth would delay you when your father's health, probably his life, was at stake. Well," added he, "what says Mr. Grant, will he come?" "Yes, sir, he will be here by eight o'clock in the morning or before; in the mean while, I find that Mr. Clare has ordered you to take some medicine that he has sent." "And has he not ordered any thing to be done to my leg; no fomentation or any other thing?" "No, sir." "Why then," said he, "I fear he gives it up for lost; because, unless something is done to stop the inflammation that is going on there, a mortification must follow"--and having said these words he sunk back upon his pillow, resigned and composed. His leg was not quite so painful as it had been; for the fact was, that mortification had actually taken place, when Mr. Clare first saw it in the morning.