I awakened, as it were, from a dream, to all that desolateness of heart, which those only who have felt can understand, and looking round the room, became conscious that I was alone in every sense of the word—bereft of my best friend—he who had centred all his care and solicitude in me—he whom I had repaid with ingratitude—he who, had he lived, would have been my director and friend, was gone for ever, and I was left alone in the world, ‘a wretch unfitted with an aim.’ It was my father’s wish that I should procure my discharge, and settle at home in some business, to which I was by no means averse: I therefore lost no time in taking the necessary step for that purpose, and procured my freedom. Previous to my being emancipated, I had looked forward to the event as the consummation of all my wishes. I thought that when I could once breathe freely, all other good things would follow, and I indulged in many Utopian dreams; but when the much desired object was accomplished, I found myself surrounded by difficulties. I had gone into the army a mere boy, my service had been principally abroad. The life of a soldier is not one where people learn worldly wisdom, and I now felt myself as much a child in that respect, as when I first left my native home to seek for reputation in the wars. I was acquainted with no business to which I could turn my attention, and I endeavoured to procure a situation of some kind; but here my boyish sins and military life were visited upon me. The cool calculating people of my native city felt no inclination to employ one who had manifested so much unsteadiness in his early days; and besides this, they considered an individual who had been in the army the very worst person they could employ—they were all lazy, good-for-nothing fellows; in short, there exists an insurmountable objection to such men—the moral character of the individual is nothing—he has been guilty of being in the army, and that is sufficient. My father’s arrangements in my favour, that might have secured me against these evils, were set aside, for want of some formality of law, and my bark was thrown on the ocean of life, to be driven along by the current, without compass or chart to guide its course—He who would have been my pilot, —— had reach’d the shore, Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar