The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

THH CHILD OF WATERLOO. 45 with us, sir, and won’t patronize us any more. Ain’t it a dread- ful pity ?” The traveler made no remark, but walked on, although he heard the mendicaunt say, in a loud voice,— ‘“T shake the dust of this house off my shoes—I leave it never to return to it. Let me be cold, hungry, or weary, I will never again set foot beneath the roof of this house. T leave my mal- ediction upon it and all its inmates.” CHAPTER XI, THE young guest of the inn bade the landlord good-night, and retired to his chamber. Jem then related how the mendicant had taken offense and left the house, which was declared to be an amazingly good riddance of bad rubbish by the landlord, who, in proportion as he congratulated himself upon the departure of the beggar, was loud in his praises of the guests he still retained. All was still at the Morton Arms. It was midnight. For nearly an hour every one within the building had retired to rest. No guests were expected late at that country place, and, after eleven, the most profound repose generally reigned throughout the whole district. The distant bay of some house dog, or now and then the low of catile, or the crow of some more than com- monly fidgety fowl, were the only sounds that ever broke upon the profound stillness of the village. | And now the moon has risen, but not high in the heavens, so that there is abundance of shadow yet. The hour of midnight has solemnly pealed forth from the village church, which was situated in the center of the graveyard, where reposed the re- mains of many who had been born, had lived, and had died within the sound of the old church bells, A conspicuous object in the churchyard, close to one of the windows of the sacred edifice itself, is the monument of the Mortons, which covers the entrance to the family vault, an ex- cavation of considerable extent, stretching under the marble flag-stones that pave the church. This monument was a long square building, having few pretensions to anything in the shape of architectural beauty; if was more intended asa cover- ing for the entrance of the vault than anything else. The moon had risen in the sky on the other sideof the church, so that the whole of the tomb was in darkness, owing to the broad, black shadow of the ancient building falling full upon it, and stretching far beyond it over many a humbler resting-place for the dead. From among the tall rank grass which grew between the wall of the church and this monument of the Mortons—a space not above two feet in width—arose 1s the midnight hour was struck, a human form. With stealthy steps-he walked out from that place of conceal- ment, and stood for a moment listening among the tombs. It was the mendicant, who had so recently affected to take leave forever of the Morton Arms, For more than five minutes he listened attentively, and then he felt satisfied that all was still. comicbooks. com