Successful Exploration | Page 3

and there he was
found, book in hand, intent on his lesson. He knew it was the school
hour, and while Mr. Benthall was speaking to the gardener, had
managed to give him the slip, passing our own door and proceeding
alone to the school, on the opposite side of the square. Mr. Benthall,
who can have seen or heard very little of him since, was one of the first,
on hearing of his recent fate, to send a subscription to his monument,
about to be erected at Totnes. Perhaps he remembered the incident.

Another anecdote of the child bears upon a leading characteristic in the
after life of the man. My late lamented brother, W.T. Wills, who has
since died at Belleville, in Upper Canada, was on a visit at my house
from abroad. He had occasion to go to Plymouth and Devonport, and I
engaged to drive him over in a gig. A petition was made to his mother,
that little Willy might accompany us. It was granted, and we put up for
the night at the Royal Hotel, at Devonport, where he became quite a
lion. The landlady and servants were much taken by their juvenile
visitor. The next morning, my brother and I had arranged to breakfast at
ten, each having early business of his own to attend to, in different
directions. When we returned at the appointed time, the boy was
missing. None of the household had seen him for an hour. Each
supposed that someone else had taken charge of him. After a twenty
minutes' search in all directions by the whole establishment, he was
discovered at the window of a nautical instrument maker's shop, eight
or ten doors below the inn, on the same side of the street, within the
recess of the door-way, gazing in riveted attention on the attractive
display before him. The owner told me that he had noticed him for
more than an hour in the same place, examining the instruments with
the eye of a connoisseur, as if he understood them. His thirst for
knowledge had superseded his appetite for breakfast. About twelve
months subsequent to this date, we had nearly lost him for ever, in a
severe attack of remittent fever. At the end of a fortnight, the danger
passed away and he was restored to us. As he lay in complete
prostration from the consequent weakness, our old and faithful servant,
Anne Winter, who seldom left him, became fearful that his intellects
might be affected; and I shall never forget her heartfelt delight and
thankfulness when she saw him notice and laugh at the ludicrous
incident of a neighbour's tame magpie hopping upon his bed. The effect
of this fever was to alter the contour of his features permanently, to a
longer shape, giving him a more striking resemblance to his mother's
family than to mine. His utterance, also, which had been voluble,
became slow and slightly hesitating.
For some time after this he resided at home, under my own tuition. Our
intercourse, even at this early age, was that of friendly companionship.
Instructing him was no task; his natural diligence relieved me from all
trouble in fixing his attention. We were both fond of history. From

what I recollect, he took more interest in that of Rome than of Greece
or England. Virgil and Pope were his favourite poets. He was very
earnest with his mother in studying the principles of the Christian
religion. More than once my wife remarked, "that boy astonishes me by
the shrewdness with which he puts questions on different points of
doctrine." In his readings with me he was never satisfied with bare
statements unaccompanied by reasons. He was always for arguing the
matter before taking either side. One question, when very young, he
would again and again recur to, as a matter on which the truth should
be elicited. This was a saying of our old servant, above named, when
she broke either glass or earthenware: that "it was good for trade." His
ideas of political economy would not permit him to allow that this
axiom was a sound one for the benefit of the state; and on this point, I
think, Adam Smith and Malthus would scarcely disagree.
The pleasure I enjoyed in my son's society when a boy, was greater
than that which intercourse with many grown men contributed; for I
may strictly repeat, as I have already said, that he was never a child in
intellect although juvenile enough in habits and manners. He never
made foolish remarks, although not in the slightest degree
uncomfortably precocious or pragmatical. I had no fear of trusting him
with anything, and was often reproved for allowing so young a child to
handle a gun, which he was accustomed to do as