Frank Osborne's alarm on discovering a bow and quiver suspended in the forest

THE

EMIGRANT'S LOST SON:

OR,

LIFE ALONE IN THE FOREST.

EDITED BY
GEORGE HENRY WALL.

NEW EDITION.

Illustrated by Corbould

LONDON:
ROUTLEDGE, WARNE, AND ROUTLEDGE,

FARRINGDON STREET.
NEW YORK: 56, WALKER STREET.

1860.

[The Author of this Work reserves to himself the right of Translating.]

LONDON;
SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR

CHAPTER I.

CAUSE OF LEAVING ENGLAND, AND ARRIVAL AT THE FOREST

CHAPTER II.

I AM LOST IN THE FOREST—MY SITUATION AND FEELINGS DESCRIBED

CHAPTER III.

I BUILD MYSELF A HUT—THE SCENERY THROUGHOUT A DAY IN THE FOREST DESCRIBED

CHAPTER IV.

AN ADVENTURE WITH A BEAR—AN EXTRAORDINARY ECHO—I AM ATTACKED WITH A FEVER, AND SUBSEQUENTLY DRIVEN FROM MY HUT

CHAPTER V.

I WITNESS A GRAND CONVULSION OF NATURE, IN WHICH I HAVE A WONDERFUL ESCAPE—AM RESCUED IN THE LAST EXTREMITY, AND ADMITTED INTO A TRIBE OF INDIANS

CHAPTER VI.

FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE INDIANS—I ARRIVE AT MY FATHER'S FARM

INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR

That no person in this state of existence may be tempted to assert his own independence, the affairs of life are so ordered that much of the happiness enjoyed by mankind depends upon their communion with each other. Human affections, if they were permitted to act freely, as they spontaneously arise in the breast of mankind, are designed to bind all the human race in one bond of brotherhood.

Our own parents and near relatives first call these affections into active exercise. Their care and attention to our welfare, the interest they take in preserving us in a state of safety and health, and in teaching us also the duties we owe both to our Creator and fellow-creatures, tend to give the first impetus to the germs of our affections; and it is by the exercise of these very affections that we derive a continual source of happiness, which becomes hereafter the chief means by which the refinement of the senses may be effected. Thus it is, that when death, or other causes, deprive us of our immediate parental guidance, the affections as naturally seek for new objects, on which to exert their influence, as the operations of any other well recognised principles proceed in the works of nature.

The author and hero of the following narrative, was called upon to experience the sudden deprivation of not only his parents, but of all his dearest friends; and that at an age when the heart first expands to the relations of our existence, and is most sensitive to the emotions of grief; when, unexpectedly and unprepared, it is cut off from all sympathy or communication with human kind. At the age of thirteen he was lost in an almost boundless Guiana forest, where he remained for several years, dependent solely upon his own resources, mental and physical—that is, on the one hand, to bear the mind up against the shock it received in being thrown suddenly into solitude; and, on the other, to provide for his daily wants. That man never was intended to live in what is denominated "a state of nature," is manifest by his long infancy and the tardy development of his mental powers. No animal is so long after its birth before it can support the body on its legs as man; in none is the period of complete adult stature so long protracted. When born into the world he is entirely defenceless, his great distinctions from other animals are reason and speech: these, however, are germs which are not developed of themselves, but are brought to maturity by extraneous assistance, cultivation, and education; hence we must infer that man was intended for social union, and that his imaginary state of nature, which some writers have spoken of, never has existed.

Man, however, in his nature, is limited in no respect; being fitted for every kind of life, every climate, and every variety of food. The Deity has given him the whole earth for his abode, and the produce thereof for his nourishment. With the advantages, however, of an early moral and religious education, together with an excellent constitution, our juvenile exile from man was enabled, under the direction of a watchful Providence, to preserve his life, protect his mind against despondency, and procure a subsistence in the midst of dangers.

The difficulties he encountered, the manner in which he overcame them, and the scenes which were brought under his view in the extended field of observation into which he was thrown, it is the object of the following narrative to lay before the reader. To those whose knowledge extends not beyond the world of man to the boundless fields of nature, it may appear that such a life must have been one of monotonous listlessness, from which few materials could be gathered to impart knowledge or interest to the general reader.

Our hero, however, found employment for the mind in every moment of his waking hours, and was furnished with objects for study in the forest, that might engage the longest period of life allotted to man to catalogue or enumerate.

Happily for the exile, his mind was formed to seek for knowledge in the only sources open to man for the full development of the intellectual powers; namely, observation and reflection.

Denied the aid of books, in the far woods that "steeped in their moonbeams lie," he called upon his Maker, and the echo of the floor of the forest recognised his presence. Acquiring confidence from this assurance, and relying on Providence for protection, he converted the scenes around him into a school of study, and realized in the woods a life of activity instead of one of solitude. He soon discovered, when left to draw deductions from his own experience in the scenes of Nature, that there is nothing but what is beautiful, nothing unworthy of admiration. "The