Newton Forster by Frederick Marryat

"Poor, short-lived things! what plans we lay! Ah! why forsake our native home, To distant climates speed away, For self sticks close, where'er we roam. "Care follows hard, and soon o'ertakes The well-rigg'd ship; the warlike steed Her destin'd quarry ne'er forsakes: Nor the wind flees with half the speed. " COWPER.

Newton, who had made every preparation, as soon as he had taken leave of his uncle, hastened to join his ship, which still remained at Gravesend, waiting for the despatches to be closed by the twenty-four leaden heads presiding at Leadenhall Street. The passengers, with the exception of two, a Scotch Presbyterian divine and his wife, were still on shore, divided amongst the inns of the town, unwilling until the last moment to quit _terra firma_ for so many months of sky and water, daily receiving a visit from the captain of the ship, who paid his respects to them all round, imparting any little intelligence he might have received as to the probable time of his departure.