I had asked him his hopes in
emigrating. They were like those of so many others, vague and
unfounded; times were bad at home; they were said to have a turn for
the better in the States; a man could get on anywhere, he thought.
That was precisely the weak point of his position; for if he could
get on in America, why could he not do the same in Scotland? But I
never had the courage to use that argument, though it was often on
the tip of my tongue, and instead I agreed with him heartily adding,
with reckless originality, 'If the man stuck to his work, and kept
away from drink.'
'Ah!' said he slowly, 'the drink! You see, that's just my trouble.'
He spoke with a simplicity that was touching, looking at me at the
same time with something strange and timid in his eye, half-ashamed,
half-sorry, like a good child who knows he should be beaten. You
would have said he recognised a destiny to which he was born, and
accepted the consequences mildly. Like the merchant Abudah, he was
at the same time fleeing from his destiny and carrying it along with
him, the whole at an expense of six guineas.
As far as I saw, drink, idleness, and incompetency were the three
great causes of emigration, and for all of them, and drink first and
foremost, this trick of getting transported overseas appears to me
the silliest means of cure.
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