Page:The Indian Orphan.pdf/10

Rh But it was when we arrived in port that I more than ever felt how very lonely I was; the whole ship was bustle, confusion, and happiness; numbers were every moment crowding the deck—there was the affectionate welcome, the cordial embrace, words of tenderness, still tenderer tears; all was agitation, anxiety, and delight. There was one group in particular, a sailor whose little boy was so grown that he did not at first recognize him—the delight of the child, two inches taller with pleasure—the half affection, half pride, glowing in the fresh island completion of the mother—every kindly pulse of the heart sympathised with them. I felt doubly an orphan as they left the deck. At this moment a young man addressed me, and announcing himself as the son of Mrs. Audley, the lady with whom I was henceforth to live, led me to the boat which waited at the side of the vessel; and a short journey brought us to Clifton and the cottage where Mrs. Audley resided. How vividly the thoughts and feelings which crowded that night about my pillow rise upon my memory! I think it is not saying too much of that natural instinct which attracts us to one person and repels us from another, when I call it infallible. There is truth and certainty in our first impressions; we are so much the creatures of habit, so much governed in our opinions by the opinions of others, we so rarely begin to think till our thoughts are already biassed, that our intuitive perception of good and evil, and consequently of friend and foe is utterly neglected. If, in forming our attachments, instead of repeating what we have heard, we