My poor comrade, hitherto on the rack of suspense, now suddenly drew breath, and taking a skipping-rope which his daughter held in her hand, threw it lightly over his wife’s neck. “Now,” said he, in a somewhat collected tone, “Now, Mr. Carpenter, as it appears that Mary, who _was_ my wife, has decided on her choice, suppose we have a bargain on the matter? It’s no use our skirmishing about in this manner any longer; (and I have no doubt of your abilities,”) pointing to the children, who crowded round the parents and opposite the sergeant. “With Mary’s consent, as she seems to prefer your manner of doing business, suppose you clinch the bargain with a sixpence, and take her to you altogether?” The money was handed out in a moment, and as quickly passed between the sergeant’s teeth, while he employed both hands to withdraw his sash aside, and taking from his pocket a guinea, which throwing into his only daughter’s lap, left the scene, closed the door, and hurried into a small public-house across the street. “Come, landlord, a pot of your sixpenny,” throwing down the ill-fated bit of silver, “and take that for your settlement; and Ned,” said he, turning to me, “call for your likings.” He grasped the vessel as the landlord handed it, and swallowed the whole at a draught, like a man who had thirsted for a week; smacked his lips, in conclusion of the barter, cast two or three glances up and down his person, then rubbing his hands smartly together, strutted up the street as if nothing whatever had annoyed him. CHAPTER XXIII. Quartered in Dover—Receive our new clothing, &c.—May, 1815—Receive orders to embark for Ostend—We arrive safe—Bruges—Ghent—Brussels—15th of June—Belong to the fifth division under General Picton—Descend the wood of Soignies to Waterloo—Duke of Wellington arrives from Brussels—Battle of Waterloo—I receive a wound in my right hand, shatters one of my fingers—Return to Brussels—The pretty house-keeper—The child—Its dead mother—Genappe—Scenes on the road to Brussels—Arrival at Brussels—Numbers of wounded in the streets—Kindness and attention of the Brussels’ ladies—The fair surgeon. SAFELY returned to England, and quartered in Dover barracks, our men soon forgot the fatigues of the Peninsular campaigns; and being joined by a batch of recruits, and supplied with new clothing, the old soldiers once more panted for fresh exploits; for their souls were strong for war, and peace became irksome to them—nor were they long disappointed. In the beginning of May, 1815, we received orders to embark at Dover for Ostend, where we arrived safe; from thence we proceeded through Bruges to Ghent in open boats by the canal: here we halted a few days, and then marched to Brussels, where we remained several weeks, not even dreaming an enemy was near us.