The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 208: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CHIUD OF -WATERLOO. 205 spot and proceeded forward, and found that there was a large range of buildings behind. These he bad seen before, and they now bore the same appearance, save there were traces of per- sons having been there recently. Broken pipes and tobacco ashes were signs that there had been, at some time or other, a meeting of some persons, who had more than ordinary reasons for secrecy. . In one part of a large room, or cellar, or perhaps shed, for it partook of all characters, a quantity of straw was heaped up in one corner, partially in sheaves, and partially loose. After some consideration and self-communion, he crept into the straw, and buried himself as far into it as he could. He hoped there to sleep in safety and peace a few hours, and to enable him to recover from the fatigue that he had undergone that eventful day. How long he could lay there he did not know, but he he- lieved that he was safer there than anywhere else; indeed, there was no other place where he could sleep, save the passage and stairs, and they were not safe, because they must be known to every one who was acquainted with the house, though the door in the closet might not, since it was a communication that was carefully concealed on both sides. To the very bottom of the straw he crept; there were ample means of breathing, for the straw above was chiefly in trusses, and piled up crossways. Here, with such a feeling of security as a man, hunted by society from piace to place, could feel, he fell into a deep sleep, such as he had not had for some days; exhausted nature required some such means of—not renovation—but cessation from intense exertion of mind and body. How long he lay there he could not tell; but he was aroused from his slumbers by loud shouting and laughter, accompanied by knocking upon the table, and the jingling of glasses, and other noises, and a rough voice said; ‘‘ D—n it all, Giles, you are arare boy. You make no bones of what you say or do.” ‘“‘In coorse I doesn’t. I never minds—why should I? I’m among friends, ain’t I?” ‘* You are, my boy.” ‘‘Then why should I not say what I mean? I means what I say, gentlemen, and I'll stick to it.” ‘- You do, do you ?” **In coorse 1 does.” ‘Now, Till tell you what, the last feller as I had anything to do with, served meso. He was a pal of mine, but he wanted to split——” ** Ay, ay.” ‘Yes; and what do you think it was all about?” ~ Don't know.” ‘Why, then, it was this ere—TI put up the job; it didn’t okkipy us a quarter of anhour. We got fifty-three pounds—that wasn't amiss. ‘* Very good indeed. Well, I hope I may never have less than fifty-three pounds for a quarter of an hour’s work,” '* Between two, you know,” comicbooks. com