CHAP. II.

The father of Mr. Elmer held a considerable official situation in India, and almost immediately succeeding the birth of this his only child, was obliged to sail for Bengal, taking with him his young wife, having prevailed upon her to leave her infant under the care of a young woman who had been a favorite attendant, and was respectably married to a farmer in her native village, bordering on the Highlands of Scotland. Mrs Thomson, sincerely attached to her dear young mistress, received her infant with a mother’s tenderness, and having recently given birth to her own first-born, she placed the little Henry by his side, and faithfully promised his weeping mother, that he should never miss her fostering love at least: and she hoped that in a year or two she should return him a “bonny lad to her dear lady.” But her anticipations were never verified, poor Henry never more was pressed to his mother’s bosom, or caused the thrill of parental pride to swell a father’s breast, for in returning to England after an absence of five years, the ship was wrecked and all on board perished.

The guardians of the orphan however, permitted him to remain during the first happy years of childhood with his foster parents, and he shared to the full their affectionate attention with their own son Alan, while the boys themselves grew up in every respect as brothers; although Mrs. Thomson, who possessed no small share of the sound sense which distinguishes the inferior classes of her country, always impressed upon the mind of her son, that while he loved Henry as a brother, he must also ever recollect that he was his superior, and as such entitled to his respect and duty. “I shall be happy my dear Alan,” she would say, “if when he grows up to manhood, that he will take you into his service, for surely it will be a service of love; and unless his disposition greatly changes, you must, my dear boy, be happy with him.” Alan fully concurred in this secret wish of his mother, and by its frequent repetition, was accustomed habitually to regard Henry as his master, and to pay him a sort of intuitive deference, which was not in the remotest degree allied to servility, but flowed from that modest humility which ennobles the heart that cherishes it; and which rendered Alan as much respected as beloved by his master, and all who knew him under all the various changes and situations of his succeeding life. Perhaps the first sorrow either of these boys experienced, was at the period when Henry was to quit the cottage of his foster parents, to be placed at a public seminary for education, and his beloved companion Alan was not to accompany him; for hitherto their studies had proceeded together under the tuition of the village preceptor: and they had been distinguished by him as diligent and clever boys. “And why may not Alan go with me?” he artlessly inquired of his guardian. “Because Alan is a farmer’s son my dear, and you are a gentleman’s son; education necessary for him may be obtained in his native village, but you must go where you will form connections suitable to your birth, and be taught many things requisite to your advancement in the world.” “But Alan learns quite as quick as me, and indeed we both acquire our lessons easier when we study together.” “Perhaps so, but you will have numerous companions; beside my dear boy, much as your wish proves your affection, assure yourself it would be a very false species of it to remove Alan from his sphere, in fulfilling the peculiar duties of which, he may live happy and respected, and in which you may greatly contribute to render him so; but in removing him from his early connections, or in elevating him above them, you hazard his humility, consequently his virtue and his happiness; and by refining his mind, you may destroy his relish for the simple pleasures of his present situation, without having it in your power to substitute any to supply its place; hence, you may in the hope of increasing his happiness, be in danger of producing discontent.” Henry’s reason could not but concur in these remarks of his guardian, while his feelings revolted from the separation. It was however useless to contend against necessity; and in a few days, (after mutual assurances of remembrance, correspondence, &c.) the boys bid adieu to each other. Much might be said upon the mutual feelings of these affectionate lads; but it is wisely ordained that the strong emotions of youth should quickly give place to new excitements, and fresh objects of curiosity; it will therefore only be necessary to say, that although each felt the deprivation of the other’s society, each became resigned to the necessity, each open to the enjoyments of their peculiar situation: their mutual parting promises were religiously kept, Henry frequently wrote to his humble friend the incidents of his school life,—the progress of his studies; and Alan recounted the village anecdotes, the fidelity and sagacity of Ryno, Henry’s favorite spaniel, the fresh haunts of the mountains he had discovered, his success in fishing, &c. Henry acquired no pride to cloud the pleasure with which he remembered the simple cottage and its dear inhabitants; Alan never lost sight of his humility and respect in corresponding with his beloved young master, while it expanded his ideas and enlarged his views beyond what they could otherwise have attained.

Thus years passed on, during which but one summer vacation had been passed in what Henry emphatically called “the happy valley;” a thousand plans were then formed for the future by the enterprising boys; all tending to a renewal of companionship: and at a time when they least expected, their most sanguine wishes were fulfilled. Henry had nearly attained his seventeenth year, when this unexpected wish promised accomplishment. It is thus recounted in an extract of a letter to Alan.

“At length, Alan, my future destination seems determined upon, and I hasten to inform you of the proposed plan, as you, my lad, are somewhat interested in it. Now I think I see those blue veins on your temples swell, and your eyes flash fire while you repeat the last words. Well then to the point, through the interest of Mr. H. I shall, in the spring, ‘if it pleases God,’ as our dear pious mother would say, sail for India, being appointed to a situation in the presidency, to which my youth would have been an obstacle, had it not been obviated by my facility in sketching objects from nature, (acquired, I verily believe, in measuring distances among our rocks and mountains, Alan, and peering after you on the crags), and also my wonderful acquisition of the oriental languages; I suppose rendered easy to me by the flexibility of the organs, produced by the early habit of mimicing the mountain echoes, and the cries of the sea birds to deceive you, my good boy. Be this as it may, I find I have astonished the examiners, and am in consequence, strongly recommended to the governor-general, as competent to the honourable and confidential situation in question. ‘But how’ I think I hear you say ‘can this so much interest me, except indeed as it removes my friend far far from me?’ Now attend, and I will tell you—I am not only allowed, but required to take a personal attendant with me to the seat of eastern parade and luxurious ease—the presidency, and if Alan Thomson can make up his mind to quit the happy valley, and all that constitutes it such, where can Henry Elmer choose better, than to have him for his personal attendant?” It is almost unnecessary to say, that Alan joyfully acceded to the plan, and although his mother “wept sore” at parting, yet she could not but acknowledge that her wishes were fulfilled. Accordingly, loaded with her blessings, and the good wishes of all who knew him, he joined Henry in London, and they sailed together for India.

It would be no unamusing task, to detail the events which occurred to these constant companions while in Asia; we may perhaps one day recount their various adventures, one only, in which a young officer, an intimate friend of Henry Elmer, was a principal actor, and he with Alan spectators, we will detail, as it illustrates the dangers to which the orientals are exposed by the wild animals of these torrid regions. “During the march of a detachment, conducting some official servants of the presidency to a place appointed, on their arrival at a village, the zumudar made known to the party, that a tiger had taken up his quarters in the vicinity, and besides committing terrible ravages among the cattle, he had killed several villagers, and had on that morning wounded the son of the zumudar, who was with great difficulty rescued from death. Animated by this account, all the young men of the party, both military and civil, determined to hunt this terrific animal, and mounting their elephants proceeded to dislodge him from his haunts. They soon discovered him. The elephant of the young officer alluded to being rather in the advance, was attacked by the tiger; another elephant, which was near, turned round in apparent dismay and ran off to some distance. The tiger had sprung upon the shoulder of the first elephant, and the rider, with admirable presence of mind, fired at him in this situation, and he fell. Imagining however (too hastily) that he had disabled him, he rashly descended from the elephant, for the purpose of despatching the tiger with his pistols, but in alighting from the ponderous animal, he unfortunately came in contact with the tiger, which with the instinctive wiliness that distinguishes the species, had only couched for a second spring, and now catching hold of the unfortunate, youth, dragged him some distance along the ground; his presence of mind, however, did not forsake him, but having succeeded in drawing a pistol from his belt, he fired it, and lodged the ball in the body of the tiger; the enraged and furious beast shook him violently without quitting his hold, and made off to the thickest part of the jungle with his prey. In the struggle to disengage himself from the furious beast, the officer almost instinctively caught hold of him by both his ears, and succeeded, after a desperate conflict, in throwing the animal upon his side, when he again availed himself of this momentary release to draw forth his remaining pistol, and presenting the muzzle close to the breast of the tiger, shot him through the heart. He then returned to his elephant, which he actually mounted without assistance—so great is the influence of the mind over the feelings of the body, declaring, afterwards, that he, at that moment, felt little or no pain from his wounds, although he had received no fewer than five-and-twenty, and many of them severe. He subsequently suffered much from the consequences of this desperate conflict—losing the motion of the knee, which was the principal seat of the injury. So desperate, so rapid, and so entire was this attack and conflict, that the other persons could only gaze and shudder, at the almost inevitable result; and when they found the unfortunate young man had escaped the fury of the tiger, and even killed him, they were almost struck dumb with admiration and astonishment.”

It will now be proper to resume our history, having we hope interested our young readers by our account of the worthy Mr. Elmer, and his faithful Alan Thomson, upon their first entrance upon the active duties of life, but from which, at the period of the commencement of our history, they had retired to a pleasant villa in the vicinity of a fine old town, in one of the eastern counties of England, in order to be near the only daughter of Mr. Elmer, married to a clergyman of the name of Monson, and residing at a beautiful village only three miles from the town of C——, and the villa of Mr. Elmer.—But the phaeton is at the door, and Alan mounted on his docile Jessy, to accompany his master; therefore, while they travel so pleasantly, we will have a peep at the rectory before their arrival.