At an age at which young men at home are still subject to pastors and masters, he had sprung at once into patriarchal power, and, being a man determined to thrive, had become laborious and thoughtful beyond his years.
Harry Heathcote had been left an orphan, with a small fortune in money, when he was fourteen.

For two years after that he had consented to remain quietly at school, but at sixteen he declared his purpose of emigrating.

Boys less than himself in stature got above him at school, and he had not liked it.

For a twelvemonth he was opposed by his guardian; but at the end of the year he was fitted forth for the colony.

The guardian was not sorry to be quit of him, but prophesied that he would be home again before a year was over.
The lad had not returned, and it was now a settled conviction among all who knew him that he would make or mar his fortune in the new land that he had chosen.
He was a tall, well-made young fellow, with fair hair and a good-humored smile, but ever carrying in his countenance marks of what his enemies called pig-headedness, his acquaintances obstinacy, and those who loved him firmness.