During the various scenes, dangers and wanderings of these years of my youth, I had not forgotten the home of my boyhood; and, now that I was becoming somewhat settled in my prospects, I wrote an affectionate letter to my mother. After a delay of several months, I received two letters in reply, one from my mother, and the other from my sister. That from my mother is inserted in this narrative, for the purpose of exhibiting to the young reader, who may fancy that his parents feel no very great interest in his welfare, another instance of the deep, undying love of a mother’s heart.  
Bladen, December 23, 1818.
 
My dearly beloved Child:—
 
I cannot describe the sensations I felt when I received a letter from your dear hands. It was the greatest pleasure I have enjoyed since you left me. I have never been sorry but once since you left, and that has been ever since; but I hope the Almighty has ordered it all for the best. I have never forgotten to pray for you morning, night, and many times in the day, though I talked very little about you to any one, because I did not wish to make any one else uncomfortable. But that God, who knows the secrets of all hearts, sees how sincerely thankful I am because he has been pleased to hear my prayers that I might hear from you again; for I was fearful I never should. But now I have great hopes that the blessed Lord will protect you, and spare our lives to see each other again.
 
My dear child, you have not stated how you came to be separated from the crew when the ship was taken, nor how you have been employed since. You must be the best judge whether it will be safe for you to venture home. It would be a great pleasure for me to see you, but if there is danger of bad consequences, on account of your having been in the service against your country, and if any bad consequence should follow your coming home, it would make me more unhappy than I have ever been yet. If there is no danger, I should be very happy to have you come home and learn a trade; as, thank God, I have it in my power to do something for you; and nothing shall be wanting to make you comfortable, that I can do. You say it may be one or two years before you come; but pray come the first opportunity, as you will be gladly received by us all. If it is a want of money that prevents you from coming, and you cannot work your passage, perhaps you can get one by showing the captain of some ship my letter, and he may depend on being paid as soon as you arrive in England. If neither will do, send me word; and if there is any place in London where your passage money can be paid, I will pay it there for you. You are right in supposing yourself twenty-two years of age on the nineteenth of March (1819). Your sister Maria is twenty. She is grown a fine young woman; I am happy to say is very steady and thoughtful; though not of a very strong constitution. She is at service in London. She has written to you, and I hope you will receive her letter with this.
 
I hope, my dear child, you will not fail to come home. Send me all the particulars of your life, at the first opportunity. I am afraid you have gone through a great deal of trouble and hardship since I saw you. But the merciful Lord has been pleased to bring you through the whole, and He is able to carry you through more, if you put your trust in Him. It gave me great comfort to hear that you are so well disposed, as I am sure you are, from the spirit of your letter; it was more pleasure to me than if you had gained all the riches in the world. I wish I was as well acquainted with religion as yourself; but I will try to make a better use of my time, and should it please God to let you come home, I hope you will be the means of great good to me.
 
There are a number of Methodist meetings about us. The people who live in our yard are very strict ones. I never disliked the Methodists; I think they have a great gift of religion. I sent your letter to Lady Churchill, formerly Lady Francis Spencer. Both Lord and Lady Churchill were glad to hear from you, and are your well-wishers. The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough are both dead. Blenheim is much altered for the worse, since his son has become Duke. Lord Francis, that was, makes a very good master; and when the Duke died, he left Blenheim. His country house is in the forest. Your father is his carpenter in the timber yard; he has filled this situation six weeks. He comes home every Saturday; and next spring they are going to place me and the children in a lodge near him. We hope to have the happiness of seeing you there.
 
It is eight years the twelfth of last July, since you left us. * * * Your father, brothers and sisters all join with me in hearty prayers to Almighty God, that his blessing may be upon you; and if it is his blessed will, we shall see you again; if it is not, we must be resigned to what is fitting for us, and pray that we may all meet in heaven, where all tears shall be wiped away. That God may bless you, my dear child, is the sincere prayer of
 
Your ever loving mother,
Susan Newman.
Notwithstanding the earnestness of my mother’s spirit, breathed out so ardently for my return in this letter, I dared not risk myself on British soil. Her expression of sorrow, if bad consequences should ensue, had its weight in determining me to remain; but a conversation with the celebrated Lorenzo Dow, who had recently returned from his English tour, settled the question. He said he had seen four men hung, who, like me, had been in the service of some other country, after deserting from their own. This was quite sufficient; for, much as I longed to visit the homes of my childhood, I had no disposition to do it with a gallows suspended over my head. I therefore wrote my mother, that, not having a regular discharge from the navy, it would be best for me to continue where I was; but I begged them to seriously think of emigrating themselves; since my father-in-law, being an excellent carpenter, could do well in New England. Alas! it was not for him ever to consider of this proposition; for, when my letter arrived, they were performing the sad obsequies of death over his breathless corpse. A prevailing fever had terminated a life of fifty-seven years, after a sickness of two weeks. My mother, now a widow the second time, after twelve years of pleasant union with her last husband, thought it unfitting, at her time of life, to venture across the ocean; and therefore all my plans for collecting my relatives on American soil, were blasted in the bud.
 
Perhaps, after following me through the changes of my life at sea, the reader may feel a little interest in knowing how I succeeded as landsman. He has seen me escaping the breakers that met me on my first approach to the shore; and now, if his patience be not entirely exhausted, he may pursue my fortunes a little further.
 
He left me, when my episode about home led him away from the thread of the narrative, busily at work as a filer of steel-yards, at Mansfield, Conn. From thence, I returned to Ashford, where I continued a year or two. At last, doubting the stability of my employer, and fearing lest what he owed me might be lost, I took up the whole in the shape of a wagon and a stock of steel-yards; then, purchasing a horse, I travelled from place to place to sell them; and in this manner got into a business which I have followed more or less ever since. After acquiring, by economy ............