in the character of a colonist.

The next class of emigrants are those who depart from their native
shores with reluctance and tears. Children of misfortune and sorrow,
they would yet remain to weep on the bosom from which they have drawn
no sustenance. But the strong blasts of necessity drive them from
the homes which even Grief has not rendered less dear. Their future
has never yet responded to the voice of Hope, and now, worn and
broken in spirit, imagination paints nothing cheering in another
land. They go solely because they may not remain -- because they
know not where else to look for a resting place; and Necessity, with
her iron whip, drives them forth to some distant colony.

But there is still a third class, the most numerous perhaps of all,
that helps to compose the population of a colony. This is made up of
young men who are the wasterels of the World; who have never done,
and never will do themselves any good, and are a curse instead of a
benefit to others. These are they who think themselves fine, jovial,
spirited fellows, who disdain to work, and bear themselves as if life
were merely a game which ought to be played out amid coarse laughter
and wild riot.

These go to a colony because their relatives will not support them in
idleness at home. They feel no despair at the circumstance, for
their pockets have been refilled, though (they are assured) for the
last time; and they rejoice at the prospect of spending their capital
far from the observation of intrusive guardians.

Disgusted at authority which has never proved sufficient to restrain
or improve them, they become enamoured with the idea of absolute