"But I shall only hear of his being killed, by your account. I don't
want to hear that."

"No, boy, of course you don't; but if you do, you'll hear the worst of
it, and that's some comfort, and if he aren't killed, why, perhaps he's
wounded, and perhaps he aren't; all perhapses in this world. Howsomever,
come with me. I saw Anderson, with a paper in his hand, walking up to
his retreat, as he calls it; so let's make all sail after him, and we
shall overhaul him before he begins to read it."

[Illustration: ANDERSON READING THE NEWS OF THE BATTLE OF THE
NILE.--Marryat, Vol. X., p. 115.]

There is a small hill just inside of the Greenwich Park gates,
commanding a beautiful view of the river and the hospital. Here Anderson
was accustomed to repair when the weather was fine, that, as he told me,
he might commune with himself. In this instance he had retired there to
avoid the excitement and confusion which prevailed; he had, however,
been accompanied by three other pensioners, whom we found on the hill
when we arrived, and, before we had been there a minute, the pensioners
had followed up so fast that there was quite a crowd. We were just in
time to hear him commence reading the newspaper account. The wind was
very high; old Anderson had taken off his hat (out of respect, I
presume, for the service), and his long gray locks were swept by the
wind, which, indeed, carried away his voice, so that it was with
difficulty that I could hear what he said. "_Second Edition_. Glorious
news! We have the felicity to inform our readers that, by dispatches
received at the Admiralty this day, a splendid naval victory has been
gained over the French fleet lying in Aboukir Bay, by Rear-Admiral Sir
Horatio Nelson, and the gallant seamen under his command. We refer our