"During this period, I was quite unoccupied, and walked the streets of Edinburgh with a stately gait. How different were my feelings now from what they once had been on the same spot, in former days, when I had run or glided through them, timorous and abject! A child might have taken the wall of me then; now I had a splendid dress, and guineas in my pocket. I walked erect and resolute as a giant, and would give the wall to none; such is the effect of circumstances upon the mind. This, I believe, is the only time in my life I ever was so foolish. I feared to meet any one who could by any chance have recognised me. Yet in my pride I was still a solitary being, too bashful to make new acquaintances with those I thought my equals, and too proud to associate with those I had known before. Thus did I strut about like a solitary peacock in a farm-yard, with this difference, that I became, unlike the haughty bird, weary of my own consequence. "After the funeral of Eliza, Mr H---- pleaded upon the captain to remain in Edinburgh; but he replied that he could not; all the scenes around only added to his melancholy, by recalling to his mind the lovely object he had lost for ever, and brought up the consciousness of the means--his own cruelty and jealous temper. In a few days we were once more on our way to London, where we arrived in safety, and found the Eliza moored at Rotherhithe. The captain resumed his active duties; and his grief was either more bearable, or, to blunt its edge, he entered more keenly into commerce. I was now appointed second mate. His wish was to obtain a distant freight, unmindful to what part of the world, so that the period of his absence from Britain might be the greatest. Not finding one so readily as he wished, he took a rich cargo on board upon his own account, fitted for the Indian market, and we left the Thames in November, 1751.