The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 258: what you’re looking at

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

THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. 256 uid be was out of his element. This caused him to send me to school much earlier than I otherwise should have gone; but at the same time, I think, it was the making of me; for in- stead of making a fool of me, I soon became a clever lad. I was his first, and he never forgot it. But he soon grew weary of a single life; he had no sort of home—no place where he could retire to and enjoy himself; and he resolved upon marry- ing a second time. One day, accident introduced him to the woman he afterward married. He was riding in a gig, when his horse shied and kicked when whipped; and then upset him into a ditch, where he was dragged out by the servant of a family residing close at hand. His distress was seen, and he wus on the point of perishing from suffocation in the mud in the ditch—the vebicle being thrown over on the top of him. ‘- With some troubleand difficulty, be was got out, and carried in-doors, and taken care of by the inmates, who had seen the occurrence, and came out to his assistance. ‘* My father was, I believe, insensible, and was, after some trou- ble, brought round to himself, having been stunned, or nearly so, for a short time; and now he became perfectly conscious of what had happened; and yet he could not tell where he was. He looked around, but'saw none upon whom he could rest his gaze with any signs of recognition. ‘Where am I? he inquired; ‘where am I? ‘In safety,’ replied a voice close beside him; and the curtains of the bed were, at the same time, drawn by a light band, and the form of a young female was immediatel present to his sight. ‘And whom have I to thank for so muc care? he inquired, as he surveyed her; ‘who was it that saved me, and placed me here? Tell me to whom am I indebted for this? ‘I was seated at the window,’ she replied, *and heard something like a noise with the horse, and was just in time to see you thrown, and the servants did all the rest.’ ‘I am your debtor,’ he replied, ‘nevertheless. What was done was done at your bidding. You are my savior.’ ‘You say more than I ought to hear upon that point, but, if you think I have done you any service, you will remain here quiet a few hours til) you have rested, and slept a natural sleep for a few hours, and, then, if you are able, you shall rise and leave, if you desire to do so.” ‘*¢ You are kind—very kind. I will be guided by you,’ he re- lied; ‘I am your prisoner.’ The result was, my father was induced to remain there for ai: nat afternoon, and the next day too. He was wzi pleased with the people; and the young lady, who was about four-or six-and-twenty, he took an especial lik- ing to. He explained to her friends who and what he was; that he had one child—that is, myself: but that was no possible ob- jection to the lady, who was fond of children and who declared she should love me as if I had been her own. This was very satisfactory, and promised avery good prospect. My father was happy. the lady seemed amiable and handsome, and they loved each other. They married. He was not to blame. He could not know anything but what came under the cognizance of his senses, and he took his wife home to him, Things went on very comicbooks. com