I remembered nothing of London in those days, although I had been born there. Before he purchased an estate in Devonshire, my father had been a merchant in the City, where he had been tolerably successful. Our home lay in a secluded valley through which flowed the river Torridge on its way to the Bristol Channel. It was surrounded by grand hills and forests, and a rocky, dangerous coast from Hartland Point to Barnstaple Bay was not far off, for from our house we could hear the thunders of the waves beating on the coast. There were a good many well-to-do people in our neighbourhood, and I remember still the delightful walks I used to take with my father and mother to visit our neighbours, or to pass away our time in the charming dells and groves. There were romantic castles to be seen here and there; the times were lively; the military element predominated. The great civil war between Charles I. and his Parliament was commencing. You may imagine how the joints of society were dislocated, and what wild confusion reigned through our once peaceful country. What crimes were committed hour by hour ! what dreadful intelligence spread every moment from lip to lip, pallid with agony and fear! what scowling looks men cast upon each other! We saw troopers in mail of brass and steel, and in buff jerkins, riding through the glens; and infantry and artillery, with their culverins and falconets, hurrying to and fro when the army of King Charles besieged Exeter: when Digby defeated the Parliament's forces at Torrington: when Barnstaple, and the Castle of Appledore, surrendered to the King. Then came the astounding news that Essex retreated into Cornwall, followed by the King himself, and was obliged to capitulate. Then Sir Thomas Fairfax appeared for the Parliament, and carried everything before him. It is a blessing for you that you have had no such times in Tasmania. All the evil spirits of hell seemed to
