My late lamented brother, W.T. Wills,
who has since died at Belleville, in Upper Canada, was on a visit
at my house from abroad. He had occasion to go to Plymouth and
Devonport, and I engaged to drive him over in a gig. A petition was
made to his mother, that little Willy might accompany us. It was
granted, and we put up for the night at the Royal Hotel, at
Devonport, where he became quite a lion. The landlady and servants
were much taken by their juvenile visitor. The next morning, my
brother and I had arranged to breakfast at ten, each having early
business of his own to attend to, in different directions. When we
returned at the appointed time, the boy was missing. None of the
household had seen him for an hour. Each supposed that someone else
had taken charge of him. After a twenty minutes' search in all
directions by the whole establishment, he was discovered at the
window of a nautical instrument maker's shop, eight or ten doors
below the inn, on the same side of the street, within the recess of
the door-way, gazing in riveted attention on the attractive display
before him. The owner told me that he had noticed him for more than
an hour in the same place, examining the instruments with the eye
of a connoisseur, as if he understood them.
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