Ruminating over all
that bad happened within the past year, I conjured up localities
to my memory which seemed too attractive to have existed in
reality. I wandered along London streets, comparing the noise
and bustle with the deep solitudes of Ceylon, and I felt like the
sickly plants in a London parterre. I wanted the change to my
former life. I constantly found myself gazing into gunmakers'
shops, and these I sometimes entered abstractedly to examine some
rifle exposed in the window. Often have I passed an hour in
boring the unfortunate gunmakers to death by my suggestions for
various improvements in rifles and guns, which, as I was not a
purchaser, must have been extremely edifying.
Time passed, and the moment at length arrived when I decided once
more to see Ceylon. I determined to become a settler at Newera
Ellia, where I could reside in a perfect climate, and
nevertheless enjoy the sports of the low country at my own will.
Thus, the recovery from a fever in Ceylon was the hidden cause of
my settlement at Newera Ellia. The infatuation for sport, added
to a gypsy-like love of wandering and complete independence, thus
dragged me away from home and from a much-loved circle.
