“From the same bosom drew the vital stream,
Through life’s eventful scenes together passed.”
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.