Some years ago Lord Wellington had an English army in Spain, trying to drive the French out of that country. A bloody battle was fought at Talavera. In the 42d Regiment of Scotch Highlanders, belonging to Wellington’s army, was a sergeant whose name was McCullum. He was wounded so dangerously that he was reported among the killed, though he was not killed. His wife, with her little boy, had followed the army as nurse in the hospital. But she had been very ill. and died about the time of the battle. Now, what was to become of that little boy, left alone among strangers, in an army marching through a foreign country? What could you expect, but that he would be left to perish? But God put it into the heart of a kind officer, connected with the army, to take charge of him. When the army went back to England, supposing that the little fellow’s father was dead, he tried to find out if he had any relations. But he couldn’t find any. Then he thought he would put him into the Military Asylum at Chelsea.
When the little boy’s father got well, he tried to find his child. He inquired everywhere for him, but could hear nothing of him. He was afraid he should never see him again. But he used to pray every day that God would take care of him, if he were still alive, and would guide him so that he might find him.
One day the person who had charge of the little boy, was going to the office of Lord Huntly, in London, to get an order for his
admission into the Asylum. Just before he reached the place, he saw a Scotch soldier a little ahead of him. He hastened up to him and said, “My friend, do you belong to the 42d Regiment of Highlanders?”
“I do, sir.”
“Were you present at the battle of Talavera?”
“Do you know anything about a Sergeant McCullum who was killed in that battle?”
“I did not know any man of that name who was killed there; but pray, sir, tell me why you ask that question?”
“Because,” said the officer, pointing to the child, “that is his little boy whom I brought from Spain.”
“O sir,” said the man, “he’s my child;” and rushing towards the boy he clasped him in his arms, and cried, “O Jamie, Jamie! don’t you know me?” What a happy meeting that was! And how mercifully God had guided that father so that he should find his lost child.
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