r him, empty his pipe, upset his can, take all
sorts of liberties with him, yet never meet with a rebuke. At times,
however, he would appear lost in uneasy thought; gazing with earnestness
upon the features of the sleeping infant, while tears would course each
other down his cheeks.

As I drove one morning up to the door of the inn, and passed the bench
on which the old soldier was, as usual, sitting, with his little flock
of children playing round him, one of them, a very young one, suddenly
backed into the road, and in another moment more would have been
crushed: but the old man sprang forward; with a vigorous and wonderful
effort he seized the child with his only arm, and threw it several feet
out of the way of danger; he fell with the exertion, and was among my
horse's feet. In suddenly drawing up, I had unwittingly done my very
worst by the poor fellow; for I had caused the animal to trample upon
him a second time, and a wheel had likewise passed over his body.

He was taken up insensible. We carried him to a bed, and after a little
time he recovered his recollection. But he was so severely injured, that
we feared every moment would be his last.

The first words he uttered were, "The child! the child!" We assured him
that the child was safe; but he would not believe us, and it became
necessary to send into the village to search for the little creature,
who had been hurried home with the others upon the confusion that the
accident had occasioned. He continued to call for the child, and was in
the greatest distress of mind till we had found it, and had taken it to
him as he lay. His delight at seeing it alive and unhurt was intense; he
wept, he laughed, he hugged it to his bosom, and it was not till he grew
very faint and weary that he would suffer us to remove it.

A surgeon arrived; and pronounced that the poor man was so much hurt,
inwardly as well as outwardly, that nothing could be done to save him;
and desired us merely to give him cordials or cooling drink, as he
should appear to wish for either. He lingered for a few days.

I had been the cause, although innocently, of the poor fellow's death:
of course I took care that all was done that could alleviate his
sufferings; and, as long as he lasted, I went everyday to pass a few
hours by his bed-side. The rescued child, too, was brought to him each
day by his own desire. From the moment he had first ascertained that it
was unhurt, he had been calm and content