He had left it, in the beginning of 1755, a raw young fellow of eighteen.

He returned, in the last month of 1759, a man of twenty-three, with the rank of major, and no inconsiderable share of credit and honour.
He stopped the vehicle at the lodge gate, had his baggage taken out there, and proceeded on foot towards the Hall, for he was afraid that, if he drove straight up to the door, the sudden delight of seeing him would be too much for his mother.
John Petersham opened the door, and, recognizing him at once, was about to exclaim loudly, when James made a motion for him to be silent.
"Show me quietly into the squire's study, John," he said, grasping the butler's hand with a hearty squeeze, "and don't say anything about my being here, until he has seen my mother.

They are all well, I hope ?" "All well, sir, and right glad they will be to see you; for Mrs.
Walsham, and all of them, have been fretting sorely since the news came that you were badly wounded." "I have had a narrow shave of it," James said; "but, thank God, I am as well now as ever!" As he spoke, he opened the door of the study, and entered.

The squire, who was reading the paper, looked up, and leapt to his feet with a cry of satisfaction.
"My dear boy, I am glad--thank God you are back again! What a relief your coming will be to us all!" And he shook James warmly by both hands.
"I should hardly have known you, and yet you are not so much changed, either.

Dear, dear, how delighted your mother will be! You have not seen her yet ?" "No, sir," James said.