THE LOST DIAMOND SNUFF BOX.
The grand old kingdom of England, in the course of the mossy
centuries you can count over its head, has had its times of gloom
and depression at dangers that looked near, and its times of
shouting and rejoicing over dangers its brave men have driven
away quite out of sight again.
One of the deepest seasons of gloom was when the French Emperor,
Napoleon, had conquered one country after another, until there
was scarcely anything but England left to attack; and one of the
proudest times of rejoicing was when the "Iron Duke" Wellington,
and the bluff old Prussian, Blucher, met him at Waterloo,
defeated his armies and drove him from the field. There were
bonfires, and bell-ringings then, and from that day onward
England loved and cherished every man who had fought at
Waterloo--from the "Duke" himself down to the plainest private,
every one was a hero and a veteran.
In one of the humblest houses of a proud nobleman's estate, a
low, whitewashed cottage, one of these veterans lived not so very
many years ago. He had fought by his flag in one of the most
gallant regiments until the last hour of the battle, and then had
fallen disabled from active service for the rest of his life.
That did not seem to be of so very great consequence though, just
now; for peace reigned in the land, and with his wife and two
beautiful daughters to love, his battles to think over, and his
pension to provide the bread and coffee, the old soldier was as
happy as the day was long.
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