The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

120 THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. ‘Yes, certainly, sir, with the greatest pleasure, sir,” said the landlord. ‘¢ Well, this way then,” said the mendicant. The two stood a few yards apart from Mabel, when the men- dicant said: ‘*The young female I have here is of unsound mind, landlord.” ‘‘Oh, I see! what a pity—she’s a pretty gal—touched in the head I suppose—well, well; we must live and die, as the Bible says—eh, sir?” ‘‘ That’s very true, landlord; now I have had a great deal of trouble and difficulty to catch her and bring her this far.” ‘* Indeed, sir—well now, live and be jolly.” ‘* But she is so cunning and so artful—eh ?” ‘““D-—n my sign-board! if she ain’t off.” The mendicant turned, for the sound of a horse’s ! oof sstruck upon his ear. The fact was, Mabel, who had not been dis- mounted, finding herself alone, thought it an excellent oppor- tunity to attempt an escape; and as quick as thought, she turned her horse’s head in the «lirection of the road and began to gallop. The mendicant was at no loss what to do, but jumping into the saddle with a quickness and dexterity that was amazing, he spurred his own beast at a rapid rate after her. The spur was a@ more certain means of urging the mendicant’s horse on, than the voice only of Mabel, and the former soon overtook the latter, though there was a sharp contest over nearly a mile of ground. “‘So vou are at your games, are you? You must see that I am as quick as you—it is useless to attempt to escape me.” ‘*T have failed,” said Mabel. ‘“‘‘You have, and so you will.” ‘** We shall see.” ‘In the meantime we will have breakfast; for I should imagine you wanted some refreshment. I do, at all events.” Mabel made no reply, but suffered herself to be led back to the inn, at the door of which stood the landlord, who had been laughing till he was hoarse. ‘*Ha. ha, ha!” laughed the landlord—‘“‘ well—ho. ho, hol—ha, ha, ha, ha!—I never saw anybody do a thing neater in all my life. Well, blow my apron, if she didn’t deserve to get off, it was 60 well done; and he ought to catch her, for I never saw a man leap into a saddle like that—he is a rum ’un; ’tis a pity such a young girl as that should be so bad; she’d make a wise young gal; it’sa shame the best are always overcome. I say;” he added, to the mendicant, as he returned, ‘‘she’d nearly got the better of you this time.” ‘* Very nearly,” said the mendicant, ‘‘ but then I am_ usually lucky enough to prevent any harm taking place by the attempt. Just let us have a private apartment, will you, landlord, and a good breakfast.” ‘‘ Very good,” said the landlord. ‘fll serve you ina twink- ling. Let’s live and be jolly—grief is a folly I don’t indulge in when I can help it. I haven’t grieved this many a long year. Grief and I are strangers, and I don’t want any introduction to comicbooks. com