proud of her reading--and the
old soldier stood at attention behind her, with such a blending of pride
and pity on his face as it was strange to see:--

"DOWNING STREET,

"_June_ 22, 1815, 1 A.M."

"That's one in the morning," gasped the Postman; "beg your pardon, mum."

But though he apologized, he could not refrain from echoing here and
there a weighty word. "Glorious victory,"--"Two hundred pieces of
artillery,"--"Immense quantity of ammunition,"--and so forth.

"The loss of the British Army upon this occasion has unfortunately been
most severe. It had not been possible to make out a return of the killed
and wounded when Major Percy left headquarters. The names of the
officers killed and wounded, as far as they can be collected, are
annexed.

"I have the honor----"

"The list, aunt! Read the list!"

"My love--my darling--let us go in and----"

"No. Now! now!"

To one thing the supremely afflicted are entitled in their sorrow--to be
obeyed--and yet it is the last kindness that people commonly will do
them. But Miss Jessamine did. Steadying her voice, as best she might,
she read on, and the old soldier stood bareheaded to hear that first
Roll of the Dead at Waterloo, which began with the Duke of Brunswick,
and ended with Ensign Brown.[3] Five-and-thirty British Captains fell
asleep that day on the bed of Honor, and the Black Captain slept among
them.

[Footnote 3: "Brunswick's fated chieftain" fell at Quatre Bras, the day
before Waterloo, but this first (very imperfect) list, as it appeared in
the newspapers of the day, did begin with his name, and end with that of
an Ensign Brown.]

* * * * *

There are killed and wounded by war, of whom no returns reach Downing
Street.

Three days later, the Captain's wife had joined him, and Miss Jessamine
was kneeling by the cradle of their orphan son, a purple-red morsel of
humanity, with conspicuously golden hair.

"Will he live, Doctor?"

"Live? GOD bless my soul, ma'am! Look at him! The young Jackanapes!"

CHAPTER II.

And he wandered away and away
With Nature, the dear old Nurse.

LONGFELLOW.

[Illustration]

The Grey Goose remembered quite well the year that Jackanapes began to
walk, for it was the year that the speckled hen for the first time in
all her motherly life got out of patience when she was sitting. She had
been rather proud of the eggs--they are unusually large--but she never
felt qui