#rk %.. r^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) wa/.^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 2.0 •u 1.4 1.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation «- 4\^ ^* ^/^: Cv 1^ «■ #. 6"^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 m" €^.< i^^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series CIHIVI/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may altpr any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. D D D D D n D D □ D n Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur Covers damaged/ Couverture endommagde Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaur6e et/ou pelliculde Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes g^ograpniques en couleur ColoLc« LIFE m THE RED BRIGADE AND FORT DESOLAnoX By R. M. BALLANTYNE THE «U.;" ..x„. UKKBOXxr " THK COR.. ....KB ; " -XH. VoJo TRAWLER ; " " PO,T H.gT. ; " H BLACK IVORY," ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS LONDON JAMES NISBET & CO, LIMITED 21 BERNERS STREET {All rlghh rmrvti} sa:z Bis/-? 120B13 1 » P.M PKEFACE. "Life in the Red Brigade" tells of much that I heard and saw during two weeks of nightly intercourse with the London Firemen. " Fort Desol> iioN " depicts scenes which made an indelible impression on my mind during a sojourn of six years among the Red Indians and Fur Traders of Ruperts Land. a M. BALLANTYNE. HABBOVf-Oy-THE-HiLL, 1887. sr LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Hb was seen to take the branch from a Fireman ON ONE OF THE UPPER FLOORS, . . . Fvontispkc^ Crack I went the whip ; Fire flew from the tavino STONES, , . . ^ ' to face page 13 Joe engaged in private practice. f • • i , Entrance of thb supposed Qhom. • * • • » 84 221 LIFE IN THE BED BEIGADE. CHAPTER L ■♦ — Wbt, worn and weary— with water squeaking in his boots, and a mixture of charcoal and water streak- ing his face to such an extent that, as a comrade asserted, his own mother would not have known him —a stout young man walked smartly one morning through the streets of London towards his own home. He was tall and good-looking, as weU as stout, and, although wet and weary, had a spring in his step which proved beyond all question that he was not worn out. As the comrade above referred to would have said, " there was plenty of go in him stiU." His blue and belted coat, sailor's cap, and smaU hatchet, with the brass hehnet swinging by its chin strap on his left arm, betokened him a member of "The Bed Brigade,"—* London fireman— one of I^t in ih% Bed Brigade, |l ! those dare-aaything oharaoters who appear to hold their lives remarkably cheap, for they carry these lives in their hands, as the saying goes, night and day ; who seem to be able to live in smoke as if it were their native element ; who face the 6»mes as if their bodies were made of oast iron; and whose apparent delight in fire is such that one is led to suspect they must be all more or less distantly connected with the family of Salamander. The young man's expression of countenance, as far as it could be discerned through the charcoal and water, was hearty, and his name — Dashwood— ^was in keeping with his profession. The comrade, whose opinion we have already quoted, was wont to say that he ought to change it to Dashwater that being his chief occupation in life. We need scarcely say that this comrade was rather fond of his joke. Arrived at a small street, not far from the Regent Circus, young Dashwood entered a fire-station there, and found the comrade above referred to in the act of disposing himself on a narrow tressel-bed, on which there was no bedding save one blanket. The comrade happened to be on duty that night. It was his duty to repose on the tressel bedstead, booted and belted, ready at a moment's notice to respond to "calls." Another fireman lay sleeping at his sidoi on another P"! if I •^« •» l/f Red Brigadt. m tr«»el-bed. mmilarly clotted, for there were always two men on duty aU night at ftat station. The guard-room or. ^ it was styled, the '• lobby," in whioh they lay, was a very small room, witt a bright firem the grate, for it was winter, a plain wooden desk near tte window ; a plain deal table near the door, on which stood four telegraphic instruments; and havmg the walls ornamented witt a row of Welhngton boots on one side, and a row of bright brass hehnets on the other, each hehnet having a anall hatchet suspended by a belt below it The comrade, who looked very sleepy, ghmced at a «naU clock, whose tick was the only sound ttat fell upon tte ear, and whose hands indicated tte hour of nalf-past two. On hearing tte door open, the comrade, whose name was Bob Olazie. raised himself on one elbow. violet;'::'.""'"* '""' " '^ '"'* '^"^ * ~-"-'"" "All that's left of me, anyhow," replied Joe Dash- wood, as he hung up his hehnet and axe on his own particular peg. " Bin much doin'. Bob P " "Not much," growled Bob; "but they don't give «po» feUow much chance of a sleep witt ttem tele- graphs. Boused me four times already within tte hut hour-stops for ohimbleys." e Life *'n the ICea Brigade, 'if r "Hat very inconsiderate of 'em/' said Dashwood, turning towards the door. " It's time I had a snooze now, 80 I'll hid 'ee good night, Boh." Just as he spoke, one of the sharp little telegraphic hells rang Ticiously. He waited to ascertain the result while Clazie rose — quickly hut not hurriedly — and went to read the instrument with sleepy eyes. " Another stop for a chimbley," he muttered, with a remonstrative growl. By this he meant that the head office in "Watling Street had telegraphed that a chimney had gone on fire in some part of London ; that it was heing looked after, and that he and his comrades were to atop where they were and pay no attention to it, even although some one should rush into the office like a maniac shouting that there was a fire in that particular place. This use of tha tele- graph in thus stopping the men of the Brigade from going out in force to trifling fires, is of the gieatest service, hecause it not only prevents them from heing harassed, the engines from heing horsed, and steam got up needlessly, hut it prevents rascals from running from station to station, and getting several shillings, instead of the one shilling which is due to the first intimator of any fire. Having acknowledged the message. Boh Clazie lay down once more, gave another ezpostulatoiy grunt, lii/e in the Bed Brigade, f and drew his blanket over him ; while Joe Dashwood went home. Joe'B home consisted of a small apartment round the comer of the street, within a few seconds' run of the station. Off the smaU apartment there was a large closet. The small apartment was Dashwood's drawing-room, dining-room, and kitchen ; the large closet was his bed-room. Dashwood had a wife, "as tight a Kttl© craft, with as pretty a figurehead," he was wont to say, " as you could find in a day's walk through London." That was saying a good deal, but there was some truth in it. When Joe entered, intending to go to bed for the night, he found that Mary had just got up for the day. It was " washing-day," or something of that sort, with Mary, which accounted for her getting up at about three in the morning. HaUo, lass, up already ! " exclaimed the strap- ping fireman as he entered the room, which was a perfect marvel of tidiness, despite washing-day. "Yes, Joe, there's plenty to do, an' Utile Mi.y don't give me much time to do it," replied Mary, glancing at a crib where Uttle May, their first-buru,' lay coiled up in sheets like a rosebud in snow. Joe, having rubbed the water and charcoal from his face with a huge jack-towel, went to the wash- 8 Lfife in the Med Brigade. n tub, and imprinted a hearty kiss on Mary's rosy lips, which she considerately held up for the purpose of being saluted. He was about to do the same to the rosebud, when Mary stopped him with an energetic " Don't I " " W'y not, Molly P " asked the obedient man. " 'Cause you'll wake her up." Thus put down, Joe seated himself humbly on a sea-chest, and began to pull off his wet boots. " It's bin a bad fire, I think," said Mary, glancing at her husband. "Rather. A beer-shop in Whitechapel. House of five rooms burnt out, and the roof off." " You look tired, Joe," said Mary. "I am a bit tired, but an hour's rest will put me all to-rights. That's the third fire I've bin called to to-night ; not that I think much about that, but the last one has bin a stifi one, an' I got a fall or two that nigh shook the wind out o' me." " Have something to eat, Joe," said Mary, in a sympathetic tone. " No thankee, lass ; I need sleep more than meat just now." " A glass of beer, then," urged Mary, sweeping the soap suds off her pretty arms and hands, and taking up a towel. Life in the Red Brigade. 9 £he fireman shook his head, as he divested himself of his coat and lieckcloth. " Do, Joe," entreated Mary; " I'm sure it will do you good, and ao one could say that you broke through your principles, considerin' the condition you're in." Foolish Mary ! she was young and inexperienced, and knew not the danger of tempting her husband to drink. She only knew that hundreds of first-rate, sober, good, trustworthy men took a glass of beer now and then without any evil result foUowing, and did not think that her Joe ran the sHghtest risk in doing the same. But Joe knew his danger. His father had died a drunkard. He had listened to earnest men while they told of the bitter curse that drink had been to thousands, that to some extent the tendency to drink was hereditary, and that, however safe some natures might be while moderately indulg- ing, there were other natures to which moderate drinking was equivalent to getting on those rails which, running down a sKght incline at first— ahnost a level— graduaUy pass over a steep descent, where brakes become powerless, and end at last in total destruction. " I don't require beer, Molly," said Dashwood with a smile, aa h« retired into the large closet; "%t my 1 10 lAft m ih9 Bed Brigade. ¥ time o' life a man must be a miserable, balf- alive sort 0* critter, if he can't git along without Dutch courage. The sight o' your face and May's there, is better than a stiff glass o' grog to me any day. It makes me feel stronger than the stoutest man in the brigade. Good night, lass, or good momin'. I must make the most 0* my time. There's no sayin* how soon the next call may come. Seems to me as if people was settin* their houses alight on purpose to worry us." The tones in which the last sentences were uttered, and the creaking of the bedstead indicated that the fireman was composing his massive limbs to rest, an*! scarcely had Mrs. Dashwood resumed her washing, when his regular heavy breathing proclaimed him to be already in the land of Nod. Quietly but steadily did Mrs. Dashwood pursue her work. Neat little under-garments, and fairy-like little socks, and indescribable little articles of lillipu- tian clothing of various kinds, all telling of the bttle rosebud in the crib, passed rapidly through Mary's nimble fingers, and came out of the tub fair as the driven snow. Soon the front of the fireplace became like a ship dressed with flags, with this difference, that the flags instead of being gay and parti-coloured, were white and suggestive of infancy and innocence. The gentle noise of washing, and the soft breathing of Life in the Red Brigade, IT live sort 3ourage. ter than ikes me brigade, ake the )ou the 3le was us." ittered, lat the st, and ishing, iiim to lie her y-like illipu- > httle [aiys s the icame ence, ured, ence. the sleepers, and the tiny ticking of the clock over the chimney-piece, were the only audible sounds, for London had reached its deadest hour, four o'clock. Rioters had exliausted their spirits, natural and artiHcial, and early risers had not begun to mova Presently to these sounds were added another very distant sound which induced Mary to stop and listen. " A late cab," she whispered to herself. The rum- bling of the late cab became more distinct, and soon proved it to be a hurried cab. To Mary's accustomed ear this raised some disagreeable idea. She cast a look of anxiety into the closet, wiped her hands quickly, and taking up a pair of dry boots which had been standing near the fire, placed them beside her husband's coat. This was barely accomplished when the hurried cab was heard to pull up at the neigh- bouring fire-stHtion. Only a few seconds elapsed when racing footsteps were heard outside. Mary seized her husband's arm—" Up, Joe, up," she cried and darted across the room, leaped on a chair, and laid violent hands on the t(ngue of the door-bell, thereby preventing a furious double ring from disturb- ing the rosebud I At the first word "up," the bed in the closet groaned and creaked as the fireman bounded from it, and the house shook as he ahghf,ed on the floor. B 18 I^e in the Bed Brigade, it Next moment lie appeared buttoning his braces, and winking like an owl in sunshine. One moment sufficed to pull on the right boot, another moment affixed the left. Catching up his half-dried coat with one hand, and flinging on his sailor's cap with the other, he darted from the house, thrust himself into his coat as he ran along and appeared at the station just as four of his comrades drew the fire-engine up to the door, while two others appeared with three horses, which they harnessed thereto — two abreast, one in front — with marvellous rapidity. The whole afiair, from the " Up, Joe, up," of Mrs. Dashwood, to the harnessing of the steeds, was accomplished in less than five minutes. By that time Joe and several of his mates stood ready belted, and armed with brass helmets on their heads, which flashed back the rays of the neighbouring street lamp and the engine lanterns. There was wonderfully little noise or fuss, although there was so much display of promptitude and energy; the reason being that all the men were thoroughly drilled, and each had his particular duty to perform ; there was, therefore, no room for orders, oounter-orders, or confusion. The moment the call was given. Bob Clazie, having received no telegraphic "stop," had at once run to m II I f CRACK! WENT THE WHIP; FIKE FLEW FROM THE PAVING STONES. lAfi in the Bed Brigade. IS INQ ring up the men, who, like Dashwood, had been sleeping close at hand. He rung up the driver of the engine first. At the same moment his comrade on duty had run round to the stable, where the horses stood ready harnessed, and brought them out. Thus the thing was done without a moment's delay. The driver, when roused, flung on his coat and helmet, and ran to the engine. It was a steam fire-engine ; that is, the pumps were worked by steam instead of by hand. The firing was ready laid, and the water kept nearly at the boiling point by means of a jet of gas. He had scarcely applied a light to the fire and turned oflf the gas, when four comrades ran into the shed, seized the red-painted engine, and dragged her out, as we have seen. Much shorter time did it take to do all this than is required to describe it. When the driver mounted his box, the others sprang on the engine. Crack! went the whip, fire flew from the paving-stones, fire poured from the furnace, the spirited steeds tore round the corner into Regent Street, and off they went to the fire, in the dark winter morning, like a monster rocket or a vision of Roir.an gladiators whirled away by a red fiery dragon ! Mrs. Dashwood heard them go, and turned with a ill' - H Life in the Bed Brigade, little sigh to her washing-tub. She was very proud of Joe, and she had good reason to be, for he was one of the best men in the Red Brigade, and, what was of more importance to her, he was one of the best husbands in the world. Perhaps this was largely owing to the fact that she was one of the best of wives I His career as a fireman had been short, but he had already become known as one of the daring men, to whom their Chief looked when some desperate service had to be performed. On several occasions he had, while in charge of the fire-escape, been the means of saving life. Upon the whole, therefore, it is not surprising that Mary was proud of her husband — almost as proud of him as she was of the little rose- bud ; but in regard to this she was never quite sure of the exact state of her mind. Meditating on Joe, and giving an occasional glance at May, whose sweet upturned face seemed nothing short of angelic, Mrs. Dashwood continued energeti- cally to scrub the fairy-like habiUments, and make the soapsuds fly. Meanwhile, the red engine whirled along its fiery course at full gallop, like a horrible meteor, clattering loudly in the deserted streets of the great city. So it would have sped in its wild career even if it had been broad day, for the loss of a single moment in reaching 1 lAfa %% the Med Brigade, IS a fire is important ; but in this case the men, instead of sitting like brazen-headed statues, would have stood up and increased the din of their progress by shouting continuously to clear the crowded thorough- fares. As it was, they had it all to themselves. Sometimes the comer of a window-blind was hastily lifted, showing that some wakeful one had curiosity enough to leap out of bed to see them pass. Here and there a policeman paused, and followed them with his eye as long as the tail of sparks from the furnace was yisible. Occasionally a belated toper stopped in his staggering progress to gaze at them, with an idiotical assumption of seriousness and demand, " Wash ey maki'n sh* a *orrible row for ? " Now and then a cat, with exploratory tendencies, put up its back and greeted them with a glare and a fufi^ or a shut-out cur gave them a yelping salute ; but the great mass of the London population let them go by without notice, as they would have treated any other passing thunderbolt with which they had nothing to do. And yet they had something to do with that engine, or, rather, it had to do with them. But for it, and the rest of the Red brigade, London would have long ago been in ashes. It is only by unremit- ting vigilance and incessant action that the Loudon I ^ 10 Hfe in the Bed Brigade. fires can be kept within bounds. There are nearly two thousand fires in the year in the metropolis, and the heroic little army nvnich keeps these in check numbers only three hundred and seventy-eight men. That this force is much too small for the work to be done is proved by the fact, that the same men have sometimes to turn out three, four or five times in a night, to work of the most trying and dangerous nature. There is no occupation in which the lives of the men employed are so frequently risked, and their physical endurance so severely tried, as that of a London fireman. As there are, on the average, five fires every night all the year round, it follows that he is liable to be called out several times every night ; and, in point of fact, this actually takes place very often. Sometimes he has barely returned from a fire, and put off his drenched garments, when he receives another " call," and is obliged to put them on again, and go forth weary — ^it may be fasting — to engage in another skirmish with the flames. In aU weathers and at all seasons — ^hot or cold, wet or dry — ^he must turn out at a moment's notice, to find himself, almost before he is well awake, in the midst of stifling smoke, obliged to face and to endure the power of roasting flames, to stand under cataracts of water, beside tottering walls and gables, or to plunge lAf% m ih% Red Brigade, «; through smoke and flames, in order to rescue human lives. Liability to be called occasionally to the exercise of such courage and endurance is severe enough ; it is what every soldier is liable to in time of war, and the lifeboat-man in times of storm ; but to be liable to such calls several times every day and night all round the year is hard indeed, and proves that the Red Brigade, although almost perfect in its organization and heroic in its elements, is far too small. Paris has about seven hundred fires a year ; New York somewhere about three hundred ; yet these cities have a far larger body of firemen than London, which with little short of two thousand fires a year, does her work of extinction with only three hundred and seventy-eight men I She succeeds because every man in the little army is a hero, not one whit behind the Spartans of old. The London fireman. Ford, who, in 1871, at one great fire rescued six lives from the flames, and perished in accomplishing the noble deed, is a sample of the rest. All the men of the Brigade are picked men — picked from among the strapping and youthful tars of the navy, because such men are accustomed to strict discipline ; to bemg " turned out " at all hours and in all weathers, and to climb with cool heads in trying oircumstanoesi besides being, as a class, pre-eminently i ■ « .'i '} i -, I 1 ■■ . i 1 i8 Life in the Red Brigade. noted for daring anytHng and sticking at nothing. Such men are sure to do their work well, however hard ; to do it without complaining, and to die, if need be, in the doing of it. But ought they to be asked to sacrifice so much ? Surely Londoners would do well to make that complaint, which the men will never make, and insist on the force being increased, not only for the sake of the men, but also for the sake of themselves ; for, although there are three hundred and seventy-eight heroes who holrl the fiery foe so well in check, there are limits to heroic powers of action, and it stands to reason that double the number would do it better. But we are wandering from our point. The engine has been tearing all this time at racing speed along the Bayswater Road. It turns sharp round a comer near Netting Hill Gate— so sharp that the feat is performed on the two off wheels, and draws from Bob Clazie the quiet remark, " Pretty nigh on our beam-ends that time, Joe." A light is now seen glaring in the sky over the house-tops ; another moment, and the engine dashes into Ladbroke Square, where a splendid mansion is in a blaze, with the flames spouting from the windows of the second floor. The engine pulls up with a oruh; the reeking I^€ th the Bed Brigade, «9 horses are removed and led aside. "Look aliye, lads I ** is the only word uttered, and the helmeted heroes, knowing their work well, go into action with that cool promptitude which is more than half the battle in attacking the most desperate odd« or the fiercest foe. f CHAPTER IL The house on fire was, as we have said, an elegant mansion— one of those imposing edifices, with fresh paint outside, and splendid furniture within, which impress the beholder with tli9 idea of a family in luxurious circumstances. No one could tell how the fire originated. In the daily ** report " of fires, made next day by the chief of the Red Brigade, wherein nine fires were set down as having occurred within the twenty-four hours, the cause of this fire in Ladbroke Square was reported " unknown." Of the other eight, the supposed causes were, in one case, "escape of gas," in another, *' paraffin-lamp upset," in another " intoxication," in another, " spark from fire," in another, " candle," in another, ** children playing vith matches," and so on ; but in this mansion none of these causes were deemed probable. The master of the house turned ofi" the gas regularly every night before going to bed, therefore it could not have been caused by escape of gas. Parafiin- Life in the Red Brigade. ai lamps were not used in the house. Candles were; but they were always carefully handled and guarded. As to intoxication, the most suspicious of mortals could not have dreamed of such a cause in so highly respectable a family. The fires were invariably put out at night, and guards put on in every room, there- fore, no spark could have been so audacious as to have leaped into being and on to the floor. There were, indeed, ** matches " in the house, but there were no children, except one old lady, who, having reached her second childhood, might perhaps have been regarded as a child. It is true there was a certain Betty, a housemaid, whose fingers were reported by the cook to bo " all thumbs," and who had an awkward and incurable tendency to spill, and break, and drop, and fall over things, on whom suspicion fastened very keenly at first ; but Betty, who was young and rather pretty, asserted so earnestly that she had been unusually happy that night in having done nothing whatever of a condemnable nature, and backed her asseverations with such floods of tears, that she was exonerated, and, as we have said, the cause was reported " unknown." It was not, however, so completely unknown as was Bt first supposed. There was a certain grave, retiring, modest individual who knew the gentleman of tho 23 lAfe in the Red Brigade, house and his doings a little more thoroughly than was agreeable to the said gentleman, and who had become aware, in some unaccountable way, which it is impossible to explain, that he, the said ge' pieman, had very recently furnished the house in a sumptuous style, and had insured it much beyond its value. The said individual's knowledge ultimately resulted in the said gentleman being convicted and transported for arson I But with all this we have nothing to do. What- ever the uncertainty that afterwards arose as to the cause of the fire, there could be no uncertainty as to the fire itself at the time. It blazed and roared so furiously, that the inside of the house resembled a white-hot furnace. Flames spouted from the windows and chimneys, glaring fiercely on the spectators, who assembled rapidly from all quarters, as if defying them all, and daring the firemen to do their worst. Sparks enough to have shamed all the Roman candles ever made in or out of Rome were vomited forth con- tinuously, and whirled away with volumes of dense black smoke into the wintry sky. "It's well alight," observed a chimney-sweep to a policeman. The policeman made no reply, although it did seem as if it would have been quite safe, even for a police- i I^€ in the Red Brigade, aa man, to admit that the sweep was thoroughly correct. It was " well alight," so well, that it seemed absolutely ridiculous to suppose that the firemen could make an y impression on it at aU. But the firemen did not appear to think the attempt ridiculous. "Never give in" was, or might have been, their motto. It was their maxim to attack the enemy with promptitude and vigour, no matter what his strength might be. When he crept out like a sneaking burglar from under a hearth-stone, or through an over-heated flue, they would " have at him '* with the liaod-pumps and quench him at once. When he came forth like a dashing party of skirmishers, to devastate a wood-yard, or light up a music-hall with unusual brilliancy, they sent an engine or two against him without delay, and put him down in an hour or two. When he attacked " in force," they despatched engine after engine — manuals and steamers — to the front, until he was quelled, and if the prey already seized could not be wrenched from his grasp, they, at all events, killed him before he could destroy more. When he boldly and openly declared war, attacking the great combustible warehouses of Tooley Street, threatening a descent on the shipping, and almost setting the Thames on fire, they sent out the whole available army from every quarter of the metropolis *'!!l 24 lAfe in the Red Brigade. ii M with all their engines of war — manuals, steamers, and floating batteries, or spouterics, and fought him tooth and nail, till he gave in. They might be terribly over-matched — as in the case of the great fire when the gallant Braidwood fell — they might lose men, and might have to fight day and night for weeks, but they would " never say die," until the enemy had died and left them, tired and torn but still tough and triumph- ant victors on the field of battle. Before the engine from Regent Street came on the ground, two manual engines from Kensington and Netting Hill had arrived, and opened water on the foe. At first their shot fell harmlessly on the roaring furnace ; but by the time the " steamer " had got ready for action, some little effect was beginning to be produced. When this great gun, so to speak, began to play, and sent a thick continuous stream through the windows, like an inexhaustible water mitraillouse, clouds of white steam mingled with the black smoke, and varied the aspect of the fire, but did not appear to lessen its fury in any degree. Just then another manual engine dashed into the square at full gallop, and formed up. Before it had well taken a posi- tion, another "steamer," with three horses, came swinging round the corner, and fell into the ranks. The panting steeds were unharnessed, the bold lAfe m the Hed Brigade. a$ charioteers leaped down, the suction-pipe was dipped into the water-trough, and the hose attached. As two engines cannot " drink " at the same plug, a canyas trough with an iron frame is put over the plug, haying a hole in its bottom, which fits tightly round the plug. It quietly fills, and thus two or more engines may do their work conyiyially — dip in their suction-pipes, and "drink" simultaneously at the same fountain. " Down with her I " shouted the man who held the " branch,** or nozzle, at the end of the hose. A steam whistle gives a shrill, short reply; the engine quivers under the power of man's greatest servant, and another battery opens on the foe. • But London firemen are not content to play at long bowls. While the artillery goes thus vigorously into action, the helmets of the men are seen gleaming and glancing everywhere amid the smoke, searching for weak points, turning the enem3r*s flanks, and taking him in rear. Hose are dragged through neighbouring houses, trailing their black coils like horrid water snakes, through places were such things were never meant to be. If too short, additional lengths are added, again and again, till the men who hold the branches gain points of vantage on adjoining roofs or outhouses, until, at last from below, above, 36 1^9 in the Red Brigade, in front, and behind, cataracts of water dash into the glowing fiimace. The fire-escape had been first to reach the ground after the alarm was given, this being the instrument nearest to the scene of conflagration. It happened that night to be in charge of David Clazie, a brother of Comrade Bob. Being a smart young fellow, David, had — with the assistance of two early risers who chanced to be at hand, and the policeman on the beat —run up his escape, and put it in position before the fire had gained its fiill force. The gentleman of the house had already got out, and fled in his night gar- ments ; but the fire had rendered the staircase im- passable, so that the cook, the many-thumbed Betty, and the old lady, who was the gentleman's mother, were imprisoned in the upper floor. David Clazie did not learn this from the gentleman, however. That amiable character had received such a fright, that he had taken himself off, no one — except the individual aforementioned — knew whither. Fortu- nately, Betty announced the fact of her existence by rushing to a window and shrieking. David ran his escape towards the window, mounted the ladder, carried the damsel down, bore her kicking, into a neighbouring house, and left her in fits. Meanwhile the cook rushed to the same window, shrieked, and fell 1^9 in the Red Brigade, V back half-suffocated with the smoke which just then Burrounded her. A policeman gallantly ran up the escape, jumped into the room, gathered up the cook with great difficulty — for she was unusually fat and the smoke very suffocating — carried her down, bore her to the same house where Betty lay, and left her there in violent hysterics. As neither of them could answer questions, it could not be ascertained whether there were any more people in the burning house. David therefore ex- plored it as far as was possible in the circumstances, and much more than was safe for himself, but found no one. After nearly choking himself, therefore, he drew aside the escape to prevent its being burned. When the engines came up, however, it was again brought into play, to enable the firemen to get up with their " branches " to the upper windows. " Try that window, Dashwood," said the officer of the station to which Joe belonged, pointing to a window on the second floor. "There ain't much smoke coming out." Before he had done speaking, Joe and a comrade had pushed the escape towards the window in question. He ascended and leaped into the room, but could scarcely see for the smoke. Knowing that the air in a burning house is clearer near the floor, he stooped as 38 I^ M iKt Bed Brigade, low as possible, and went round the room guiding himself by the walls. Coming to a door he seized the handle and tried to open it, but found it locked, and the handle so hot that he was forced to let go abruptly. He seized a chair, tried to burst it open with a blow, and shivered the chair to atoms, but did not force the door. A powerful effort with his foot also failed. Rushing to the window he got out on the escape, and shouted : — " The axe, lads, look sharp and pass up the hose. We'll get at it here." A large heavy axe was handed up by one fireman, while another let down a rope, to which the end of the hose was attached and hauled up. Joe seized the axe, returned to the door, and, with one blow, dashed it open. Flames leaped upon him, as if they had been eagerly awaiting the opportunity, licked hungrily round his legs, and kissed his whiskers — of which, by the way, he was rather proud ; and with good reason, for they were very handsome whiskers. But Joe cared no more for them at that moment than he did for his boots. He was forced to retreat, however, to the window, where Bob Clazie had already presented his branch and commenced a telling discharge on the fire. L\fe in the Red Brigade. 39 " That's the way to do it," muttered Bob, as he directed the branch and turned aside his head to avoid as much as possible, the full volume of the smoke. " Let's get a breath 0' fresh air," gasped Joe Dash- wood, endeavouring to squeeze past his comrade through the window. At that moment a faint cry was heard. It appeared to come from an inner room. " Some one there, Joe," said Bob Clazie in a grave tone, but without diverting his attention for an instant from the duty in which he was engaged. Joe made no reply, but at once leaped back into the room, and, a second time, felt his way round the walls. He came on another door. One blow of the ponderous axe dashed it in, and revealed a bed-room not quite so densely filled with smoke as the outer room. Observ- ing a bed looming through the smoke, he ran towards it, and struck his head against one of the posts so vio- lently that he staggered. Recovering he made a grasp at the clothes, and felt that there was a human being wrapped tightly up in them like a bundle. A female shriek followed. Joe Dashwood was not the man to stand on ceremony in such circumstances. He seized the bundle, straightened it out a little, so as to make it more portable, and throwing it over his shoulder, made a rush towards the window by which he had r ? ' I * ;f n ill 30 Lift in the Red Brigade. entered. All this the young fireman did with consi- derable energy and haste, because the density of the smoke was increasing, and his retreat might be cut off by the flames at any moment. " Clear the way there I " he gasped, on reaching the window. " All right," replied Bob Clazie, who was still presenting his branch with imtiring energy at the flames. Joe passed out, got on the head of the escape, and, holding the bundle on his shoulder with one hand, grasped the rounds of the ladder with the other. He descended amid the cheers of the vast multitudoi which had by this time assembled to witness the fireb As Joe hurried towards the open door of the nearest house, Betty, with the thumbs, rushed frantically out, screaming, " Missis I oh I my I she'll be burnt alive I gracious I help I fire I back room I first floor I oh, my I * ' "Be easy, lass," cried Joe, catching the flyiog domestic firmly by the arm, and detaining her despite her struggles. " Let me go ; missis I I forgot her 1 " " Here she is," cried Joe, interrupting, " all safe. You come and attend to her.'* The reaction on poor Betty's feelings was so great that she went into fits a second time, and was carried l^e in the Bed Brigade. 31 with her mistress into the house, whoro the 000k still lay in violent hysterics. Joe laid the bundle gently on the bed, and looked quickly at the bystanders. Observing several cool and collected females anumg them, he pointed to the bundle, which had begun to exhibit symptoms of life, and said briefly, " She's all right, look after her," and vanished like a wreath of that smoke into which in another moment he plunged. He was not a moment too soon, for he found Bob Clazio, despite his fortitude and resolution, on the point of abandoning the window, where the smoke had increased to such a degree as to render suffocation im- minent. " Can't stand it," gasped Bob, scrambling a few paces down the ladder. " Give us the branch. Bob, I saw where it was in fetchin' out the old woman," said Joe in a stifled voice. He grasped the copper tube from which the water spouted with such furca as to cause it to quiver and recoil like a living thing, so that, being difficult to hold, it slipped aside and nearly fell. The misdirected water-spout went straight at the helmet of a police- man, which it knocked off with the apparent force of a cannon shotj plunged into the bosom of a stout 3* 1^9 in tht Med Brigade. h I I t'i collier, whom it washed whiter than he had ever heen sinoe the days of infancy, and scattered the multitude like chaff before the wind. Seeing this, the foremen ordered "No. 3" engine (which supplied the particular branch in question) to cease pumping. Joe recovered the erratic branch in a moment, and dragged it up the escape. Bob, who was now in a breatheable atmosphere, helping to pass up tbe hose. The foreman, who seemed to have acquired the power of being in several places at one and the same moment of time, and whose watchful eye was apparently everjrwhere, ordered Bob's brother David and another man named Ned Crashington, to go up and look after Joe Dashwood. Meanwhile Joe shouted, •* Down with No. 3 ; " by which he meant, " up with as much water as possible from No. 3, and as fast as you can I " and sprang into the room from which he had just rescued the old woman. In passing out with her he had observed a glimmer of flame through the door which he had first broken open, and which, he reflected while descending the escape, was just out of range of Bob Clazie's branch. It was the thought of this that had induced him to hurry back so promptly ; in time, as we have seen, to relieve his comrade. He now pointed the branch at the precise spot, and hit that part of the L Jj\f9 In thi Bed Brigade. 33 fire right in its heart The result was that clouds of steam mingled with the smoke. But Joe was human after all. The atmosphere, or, rather, the want of atmosphere, was too much for him. He was on the point of dropping the branch, and rushing to the window for his life, when Ned Crashington, feeling his way into the room, timibled over him. Speech was not required in the circumstances. Ned knew exactly what to do, and Joe knew that he had been sent to relieve him. He therefore delivered the branch to Ned, and at once sprang out on the escape, where he encountered David Clazie. " Go in, Davy, he can't stand it long," gasped Joe. "No fears of 'im," replied Davy, with a smile, as he prepared to enter the window; "Ned can stand hanythink a'most. But, I say, send up some more 'ands. It takes two on us to 'old that ere branch, you know." The brass helmets of more hands coming up the escape were observed as he spoke, for the foreman saw that this was a point of danger, and, like a wise general, had his reserves up in time. David Clazie found Ned standing manfully to the branch. Ned was noted in the Red Brigade as a man who could " stand a'most anything," and who appeared to cherish % martjrr-like desire to die by 1 34 lAfe in the Bed Brigade. roasting ur suffocation. ITiis was the more surprising that he was not a boastful or excitable fellow, but a silent, melancholy, and stern man, who, except when in action, usually seemed to wish to avoid observation. Most of his comrades were puzzled by this compound of character, but some of them hinted that Crashing- ton's wife could have thrown some light on the subject Be this as it may, whenever the chief or the foreman of the Brigade wanted a man for any desperate work, they invariably turned to Ned Crashington. Not that Ned was one whit more courageous or willing to risk his life than any of the other men, all of whom, it must be remembered, were picked for courage and capacity for their special work ; but he combined the greatest amount of coolness with the utmost possible recklessness, besides being unusually powerful, so that he could be depended on for wise as well as desperate action. Joe Dashwood was thought to be almost equal to Ned — indeed, in personal activity he was superior ; but there was nothing desperate in Joe's character. He was ever ready to dare anything with a sort of jovial alacrity, but he did not appear, like Ned, to court martyrdom. While Ned and David subdued the flames above, Joe descended the escape, and being by that time almost exhausted, sat down to rest with several '-1. I^e in the Bed Brigade, $$ comrades who had endured the first shook of battle, while fresh men were sent to continue the fight. "Have a glass, JoeP" said one of the fiicmen, coming round with a bottle of brandy. " No, thank 'ee,'* said Joe, " I don't require it.'' *' Hand it here," said a man who stood leaning against the rails beside him, " my constitution is good, like the British one, but it's none the worse for a drop o' brandy after such tough work.*' There was probably truth in what the man said. Desperate work sometimes necessitates a stimulantr nevertheless, there were men in the Red Brigade who did their desperate work on nothing stronger than water, and Joe was one of these. In three hours the fire was subdued, and before noon of thc.^ day it was extinguished. The " report " of it, as published by the chief of the Fire Brigade next morning, recorded that a house in Ladbrook Square, occupied by Mr. Blank, a gentleman whose business was " private " — in other words, unknown — had been set on fire by some ** unknown cause," that the whole tenement had been " burnt out " and " the roof off," and that the contents of the building were " insured in the Phoenix." Some of the firemen were sent home about day- break, when the flames first began to be mastered. { 'i i I 1 3« itft OT M« Hed Brigade. ioe was among these. He found Ma^r ready with a oup of hot coffee, and the rosebud, who had just awakened, ready with a kiss. Joe accepted the second, swaUowed the first, stretched his huge frame wifli a sigh of weariness, remarked to Mary that he would turn in, and in five minutes thereafter wan snormg profoundly. CHAPTER in. One pleasant afternoon in spring David Clazie and Ned Crashington sat smoking together in front of the fire in the lobby of the station, chatting of hair-breadth escapes by flood and fire. " It's cold enough yet to make a fire a very plea- sant comrade — w'en 'e*s inside the bars," observed David. " H'm," replied Crashington. As this was not a satisfactory reply, David said S0| and remarked, further, that Ned seemed to be in the blues. " Wotever can be the matter wi* you, Ned," said David, looking at his companion with a perplexed air; "you're a young, smart, 'ealthy fellar, in a business quite to your mind, an' with a good-lookin' young wife at 'ome, not to mention a babby. Wy wot more would you 'ave, Ned ? You didn't ought for to look blue." " Pr'aps not," replied Ned, relinhting his pipe, and J« lAfe wi the Red Brigade. puffing between sentences, " but a man may be in a business quite to his mind and have a good-looking wife, and a babby, and health to boot, without bein* exactly safe from an attack of the blues now and then, d'ye see ? ' It ain't all gold that glitters.' You've heard o' that proverb, no doubt ? " " Well, yes," replied Clazie. " Ah Then there's another sayin' which mayhap you've hoard of too : ' every man's got a skeleton in the cupboard.* " " I've heard o' that likewise," said Clazie, " but it ain't true ; leastways, / have got no skeleton in none o' my cupboards, an*, wot's more, if I 'ad, I'd pitch him overboard." " But what if he was too strong for you?" suggested Ned. " Why, then — I don't know," said Clazie, shaking his head. Before this knotty point could be settled in a satis- factory manner, the comrades were interrupted by the entrance of a man. He was a thick-set, ill- favoured fellow, with garments of a disreputable appearance, and had a slouch that induced honest men to avoid his company. Nevertheless, Ned Crash- ington gave him a hearty "good afternoon," and shook hands. i'i lAfe in the Bed Brigade, 39 " My brother-in-law, Clazie,'* said Ned, turning and introducing him, " Mr. Sparks." Clazie was about to say he " was 'appy to," etc. but thought better of it, and merely nodded as he turned to the grate and shook the ashes out of his pipe. "You'll come and have a cup of tea, PhilP Maggie and I usually have it about this time." Phil Sparks said he had no objection to tea, and left the station with Ned, leaving David Clazie shaking his head with a look of profound wisdom. " You're a bad lot, you are," growled David, after the man was gone, ** a worry bad lot, indeed 1 " Having expressed his opinion to the clock, for there was no one else present, David thrust both hands into his pockets, and went out to take an observation of the weather. Meanwhile Ned Crashington led his brother-in-law to his residence, which, like the abodes of the other firemen, was close at hand. Entering it he found his *' skeleton " waiting for him in the shape of his wife. She was anything but a skeleton in aspect, being a stout, handsome woman, with a fine figure, an aqui- line nose, and glittering black eyes. "Oh, you've come at last," she said in a sharp, querulous tone, almost before her husband had 1 40 Life in the Bed Brigade, I' i entered tlie room. "Full ten minutes late, and I expected you sooner than usual to-night." " I didn't know you expected me sooner, Maggie. Here's Phil come to have tea with us." *' Oil, Phil, how are you P " said Mrs. Crashington, greeting her brother with a smile, and shaking him heartily by the hand. ** Ah, if you'd only receive me with a smile like that, how different it might be," thought Ned ; but he said nothing. "Now, then, stoopid," cried Mrs. Crashington, turning quickly round on her husband, as if to coun- teract the little touch of amiability into which she had been betrayed, "how long are you going to stand there in people's way staring at the fire ? What are you thinking of P" " I was thinking of you, Maggie." "H'ml thinking no good of me, I dare say," replied Maggie, sharply. "Did your conscience tell you thatP" asked Ned, with a heightened colour. Maggie made no reply. One secret of her bad temper was that she had all her life been allowed to vent it, and now that she was married she felt the necessity of restraining it very irksome. Whenever she had gone far enough with Ned, and saw that he Zi/e in the Bed Brigade. 4« was not to be trifled with, she found that she possessed not only power to control her temper, but the sense, now and then, to do so I On the present occasion she at once busied herself in preparing tea, while Ned sat down opposite his brother-in-law, and, taking Fred, his only child, a handsome boy of about five years of age, on his knee, began to run his fingers through his jet black curly hair. " Did you get your tasks well to-day, Fred P " asked Ned. " No, father." " No ? " repeated Ned in surprise ; " why not P " "Because I was playin* with May Dashwood, father." "Was that a good reason for neglecting youi dooty ? '* demanded Ned, shaking his head reproach. fully, yet smiling in spite of himself. " Iss, father," replied the boy boldly. "You're wrong, Fred. No doubt you might have had a worse reason, but plap is not a good reason for neglect of dooty. Only think— what would be said to me if I was called to a fire, and didn't go because I wanted to play with May Dash- wood ? " " But I was sent for," pleaded Fred. " Mrs. Dash- wood had a big— oh, such a big washin', an' sent to D !: ii ;i I 49 Life in the Bed Brigade, say if I might be let go ; an' mother said I might, so I went." "Ah, that alters the case, Fred," replied his father, patting the boy's head. " To help a woman in difficulties justifies a'most anything Don't it, Phil ? " Thus appealed to, Phil said that he didn't know, and, what was more, he didn't care. " Now don't sit talkin' nonsense, but sit in to tea," laid Mrs. Crashington. The stout fireman's natural amiability had been returning like a flood while he conversed with Fred, but this sharp summons rather checked its flow ; and when he was told in an exasperating tone to hand the toast, and not look like a stuck pig, it was fairly stopped, and his spirit sank to zero. •* Have you got anything to do yet ? " he asked of Phil Sparks, by way of cheering up a little. " No, nothin'," replied Sparks ; " leastways nothin* worth mentionin'." " I knew his last application would fail," observed Maggie, in a quietly contemptuous tone. His last application had been made through Ned's influence and advice, and that is how she came to know it would fail. Ned felt a rising of indignation within him which L^ in the Bed Brigach, 43 he found it difficult to choke down, because it was Bolely for hifi wife's sake that he had made any effort at all to give a helping hand to surly Phil Sparks, for whom he entertained no personal regard. But Ned managed to keep his mouth shut. Although a passionate man, he was not ill-tempered, and often suflfered a great deal for the sake of peace. " London," growled Sparks, in a tone of sulky remonstrance, " ain't a place for a man to git on in. If you've the luck to have friends who can help you, an' are willin', why it's well enough ; but if you haven't got friends, its o' no manner o' use to try anything, except pocket-pickin* or house-break- m ) ft " Come, Phil," said Ned, laughing, as he helped himself to a huge round of buttered toast, " I 'ope you han't made up your mind to go in for either of them professions, for they don't pay. They entail hard work, small profits, an' great risk — not to mention the dishonesty of 'em. But I don't agree with you about London neither." " You never agree with nobody about anythink," observed Mrs. Crashington, in a low tone, as if the remark were made to the teapot ; but Ned heard it, and his temper was sorely tried again, for, while the remark was utterly false as regarded himself, it was 1 44 Lift in the Red Brigadt, i^il If! particularly true as regarded his wife. However, he let it pass, and continued — "You see, Phil, London, as you know, is : g place, the population of it being equal to that of all Scotland — so I'm told, though it ain't easy to swallow that. Now it seems to me that where there's so many people an' so much doin', it ought to be the very place for smart, stout fellows like you. If I was you, I'd " " Yes, but you ain*t him," interrupted Mrs. Crash- ington, testily, " so it won't do him much good to tell what you would or wouldn't do." " I've heard of wives, Maggie, who sometimei d to be agreeable," said Ned, gravely. " If I don't suit you why did you marry me ? " demanded Maggie. " Ah, why indeed ? " said Ned, with a frown. At this critical point in the conversation. Little Fred, who was afraid that a storm was on the point of bursting forth, chanced to overturn his tin mug of tea. His mother was one of those obtuse women who regard an accident as a sin, to be \isited by summary punishment. Her usual method of inflict- ing punishment was by means of an open-handed slap on the side of the head. On this occasion she dealt out the measure of justice with such good- will, that L Liff in th$ Red Brigade. A% poor little Fred was sent sprawling and howling on the floor. This was too much for Ned, who was a tender- hearted man. The blood rushed to his face; he sprang up with such violence as to overturn his chair, seized his cap, and, without uttering a word, dashed out of the room, and went downstairs three steps at a time. What Ned meant to do, or where to go, of course no one could tell, for he had no definite intentions in his own mind, but his energies were unexpectedly directed for him. On rushing out at the street door, he found himself staggering unexpectedly in the arms of Bob Clazie. "Hullo! Bob, whai up?" " Turn out I " said Bol., as he wheeled round, and ran to the next fireman's door. Ned understood him. He ran smartly to the station, and quickly put on helmet, belt, and axe. Alrea.*y the engine was out, and the horses were being harnessed. In two minutes the men were assembled and accoutred ; in three they were in their places — the whip cracked, and away they went. It was a good blazing, roaring, soul-stirring fire — a dry-salter's warehouse, with lots of inflammable mate- rials to give it an intense heart of heat, and fanned by a pretty stiff breeze into un8:ovemable fury — yet it U I tHi I 1 ! I ii III I I 4« Life in the Red Brigade, was as nothing to the fire that raged in Ned's bosom. If he had hated his wife, or been indifierent to her, he would in all probability, like too many husbands, have sought for congenial society elsewhere, and would have been harsh to he^ when obliged to be at home. But Ned loved his wife, and would have made any sacrifice, if by so doing, he could have smoothed her into a more congenial spirit. When, therefore, he found that his utmost eflForts were of no avail, and that he was perpetually goaded, and twitted, and tweaked for every little trifle, his spirit was set alight — as he at last remarked in confidence to David Clazie — and all the fire engines in Europe, Asia, Africa and America couldn't put it out. The drysalter's premises seemed to have been set on fire for poor Ned's special benefit that night. They suited his case exactly. There was more than the usual quantity of smoke to suffocate, and fire to roast, him. There was considerable danger too, so that the daring men of the brigade were in request — if we may say that of a brigade in which all the men were daring — and Ned had congenial work given him to do. The pro- verbial meeting of Greek with Greek was mere child's play to this meeting of fire with fire. The inflamed Ned and the blazing drysalter met in mortal conflict, and the reel alt was tremendous I It made his brother lAfe in the Bed Brigade. 47 firemen stand aghast with awful admiration, to observe the way in which Ned dashed up tottering staircases, and along smoke-choked passages, where lr.mbent flames were licking about in search of oxygen to feed on, and the way in which he hurled down brick walls and hacked through wood partitions, and tore up fir-planking and seized branch and hose, and, dragging them into hole-and-corner places, and out upon dizzy beams, and ridge poles, dashed tons of water in the fire's face, until it hissed again. It was a fine example of the homoeopathic principle that " like cures like ; " for the fire in Ned's bosom did wonders that night in the way of quenching the fire in the drysalter's warehouse. When this had gone on for an hour, and the fire was at its heij?;ht, Ned, quite exhausted, descended to the street, and, sitting down on the pavement, leaned against a rail. " If you goes on like that, Ned," said Bob Clazie, coming up to him, *•' you'll bust yourself." " I wish I could," said Ned. At that moment, Bob's brother David came towards them with I e brandy bottle. " Have a glass, Ned, you need it,*' said David. Ned, although not a teetotaller, was one of the men who did not require spirits, and therefore seldom !■ I lAJe tn tht Hed Brigade. I i r ' ' !; ! took more than a sip, but he now seized the glass and drained it eagerly. " Another," he cried, holding it up. David refilled it with a look of some surprise. Ned drained it a second time. " Now," said he, springing up, and tightening his belt, ** I'm all right, come along, Bob ! " With that he rushed into the burning house, and in a few seconds was seen to take the branch from a fireman on one of the upper floors, and drag it out on a charred beam that overhung the fire. The spot on which they stood was brilliantiy illuminated, and it was seen that the fireman remonstrated with Ned, but the latter thrust him away, and stepped out on the beam. He stood there black as ebony, with a glowing back-ground of red walls and fire, and the crowd cheered him for his unwonted courage ; but the cheer was changed abruptly into a cry of alarm as the beam gave way, and Ned fell head foremost into the burning ruins. The chief of the brigade — distinguishable every- where by his tall figure — observed the accident, and sprang towards the place. " If he's not killed by the fall, he's safe from the fire, for it is burnt out there," he remarked to David Olazie, who accompanied him. Before they reached IAf6 in the Bed Brigade, 49 the place, Joe Dashwood and two other men had rushed in. They found Ned lying on his back in a mixture of charcoal and water, almost buried in a mass of rubbish which the falling beam had dragged down along with it. In a few seconds this was removed, and Ned was carried out and laid on the pavement, with a coat under his head. " There's no cut anywhere that I can see," said Joe Dashwood examining him. " His fall must have been broke by goin' through the lath and plaster o* the celin* below," suggested Bob Clazie. At that moment, there was a great crash, followed by a loud cry, and a cheer from the multitude, as the roof fell in, sending up a magnificent burst of sparks and flame, in the midst of which Ned Crash- ington was borne from the field of battle. While this scene was going on, Mrs. Crashington and her brother were still seated quietly enjoying their tea — at least, enjoying it as much as such characters can be said to enjoy anything. When Ned had gone out, as before mentioned, Phil remarked : — " I woundn't rouse him like that, Mag, if I was you." " But he's so aggravatin'," pleaded Mrs. Crash- ington. 50 lAfe in the Bed Brigade. " He ain't half so aggravatin* as t/ou are," replied Phil, gruffly. I don't understand your temper at all. You take all the hard words / give you as meek as a lamh, but if he only offers to open his mouth you fly at him like a turkey-cock. However, it's no business o' mine, and now," he added, rising, " I must be off." " So, you won't tell me before you go, what sort of employment you've got? " *' No," replied Phil, shortly. " Why not, Phil f " " Because I don't want you to know, and I don't want your husband to know." " But I won't tell him, Phil." •* I'll take good care you can't tell him," returned Phil, as he fastened a worsted comforter round his hairy throat. " It's enough for you to know that I ain't starvin' and that the work pays, though it ain't likely to make my fortin*." Saying this, Mr- Sparks condescended to give his sister a brief nod and left the house. He had not been gone much more than a couple of hours, when Mrs. Crashington, having put little Fred to sleep, was roused from a reverie by the sound of several footsteps outside, followed by a loud ring at the bell ; she opened the door quickly, and her husband was borne ^n and laid on his bed. i • 1^9 in the Bed Brigade. SI " Not dead P " exdaimed the woman in a yoice of agony. " No, missus, not dead," said David Clazie, " but hardly better I fear." % When Maggie looked on the poor bruised form, with garments torn to shreds, and so covered with charcoal, water, lime, and blood, as to be almost an indistinguishable mass, she could not have persuaded herself that he was alive, had not a blight heaving of the broad chest told that life still remained. "It's a 'orrible sight that, missus," said David Clazie, with a look that seemed strangely stem. " It is — oh it is — terrible I " said Mrs. Crashington, scarce able to suppress a cry. " Ah, you*d better take a good look at it," added Clazie, " for it's your own doing, missus." Maggie looked at him in surprise, but he merely advised her to lend a hand to take the clothes off, as the doctor would be round in a minute ; so she silently but actively busied herself in such duties as were necessary. Meanwhile Phil Sparks went about the streets of London attending to the duties of his own particular business. To judge from appearances, it seemed to be rather an easy occupation, for it consisted mainly in walking at a leisurely pace through the streets and 52 Life in the Red Brigade. \ I '(• ;! \ ' thoroughfares, with his hands in his pockets and a pipe in his mouth. Meditation also appeared to be an important branch of this business, for Phil frequently paused in front of a large mansion, or a magnificent shop, and gazed at it so intently, that one might have almost fancied he was planning the best method of attempting a burglary, although nothing was farther from Phil's intentions. Still, lus meditations were sometimes so prolonged, that more than one poHceman advised him, quite in a friendly way, to " move on." Apparently, however, Phil turned over no profit, on this business, and was about to return home supperless to bed, when he suddenly observed smoke issuing from an upper window. Bare and lucky chance I He was the first to observe it. He knew that the first who should convey the alarm of fire to a fire -station would receive a shilling for his exertions. He dashed off at once, had the firemen brought to the spot in a few minutes, so that the fire was easily and quickly overcome. Thus honest Phil Sparks earned his supper, and the right to go home and lay his head on his pillow, with the happy con- sciousness of having done a good action to his fellow- men, and performed a duty to the public and - H CHAPTER IV It is probable that there is not in all the wide world a man — ^no matter how depraved, or ill- favoured, or unattractive — ^who cannot find some sym- pathetic soul, some one who will be glad to see him and find more or less pleasure in his society. Coarse in body and mind though Philip Sparks was, there dwelt a young woman, in one of the poorest of the poor streets in the neighbourhood of Thames Street, who loved him, and would have laid down her life for him. To do Martha Heading justice, she had fallen in love with Sparks before intemperance had rendered his countenance repulsive and his conduct brutal. When, perceiving the power he had over her, he was mean enough to borrow and squander the slender gains she made by the laborious work of dress-making — compared to which coal-heaving must be mere child's play — she experienced a change in her feelings towards him, which she could not easily understand m I \ 54 Life in the Red Brigade. or define. Her thoughts of him were mingled with intense regrets and anxieties, and she looked forward to his visits with alarm. Yet those thoughts were not the result of dying affection ; she felt quite certain of that, having learned from experience that " many waters cannot quench love." One evening, about eight o'clock, Phil Sparks, having prosecuted his "business" up to that hour without success, tapped at the door of Martha's garret and entered without waiting for permission ; indeed, his tapping at all was a rather unwonted piece o politeness. " Come in, Phil," said Martha, rising and shaking hands, after which she resumed her work. "You seem busy to-night," remarked Sparks, sitting down on a broken chair beside the fireless grate, and taking out his bosom companion, a short black pipe, which he began to fill. " I am always busy," said Martha, with a sigh. " An' it don't seem to agree with }t)u, to judge from your looks," rejoined the man. This was true. The poor girl's pretty face was thin and very pale and haggard. " I was up all last night," she said, " and feel tired now, and there's not much chance of my getting to bed to-night either^ because the lady for whom I am Life in the Bed Brigade, 55 making this muet have it by to-morrow aflemoon at latest." Here Mr. Sparks muttered something yery like a malediction on ladies in general, and on ladies who " muit " have dresses in particular. " Your fire's dead out, Martha," he added, poking among the ashes in search of a live ember. "Yes, Phil, it's out. I can't afford fire of an evening ; besides it ain't cold just now." "You can afford matches, I suppose," growled Phil ; " ah, here they are. Useful things matches, not only for lightin' a feller's pipe with, but also for well ; so she umt have it by to-morrow afternoon, must she P " " Yes, so my employer teUs me." " An' she'll not take no denial, won't she P " " I believe not," replied Martha, with a faint smile, which, like a gleam of sunshine on a dark landscape, gave indication of the brightness that might have been if grey clouds of sorrow had not overspread her sky. " What's the lady's name, Martha f " " Middleton." " And w'ere abouts may she live P " " In Conway Street, Knightsbridge." " The number ? " Ill 96 Life m the Bed Brigade. ** No. 6, 1 believe ; but why are you so particular in your inquiries about her ? " said Martha, looking up for a moment from her work, while the faint gleam of sunshine again flitted over her face. "Why, you see, Martha," replied Phil, gazing through the smoke of his pipe with a sinister smile, " it makes a feller feel koorious to hear the partiklers about a lady wot must have things, an* won't take no denial I If I was you, now, I'd disappoint her, an* see how she'd take it." He wound up his remark, which was made in a bantering tone, with another malediction, which was earnest enough — savagely so. *' Oh ! Phil," cried the girl, in an earnest tone of entreaty ; " don't, oh, don't swear so. It is awfiil to think that God hears you, is near you — at your very elbow — while you thus insult Him to his face." The man made no reply, but smoked with increasing intensity, while he frowned at the empty fire-place. " "Well, Martha," he said, after a prolonged silence, ** I've got work at last." "Have you?" cried the girl, with a look of interest. " Yes ; it ain't much to boast of, to be sure, but it pays, and, as it ties mo to nothin' an' nobody, it suits my taste well. I'm wot you may call a' appendage o' JAft in the Red Brigade. 97 the fire brigade. I hangs about the streets till I sees a fire, w'on, off I goes full split to the nearest fire- station, calls out the engine, and gits the reward for bein* first to give the alarm." "Indeed," said Martha, whose face, which had kindled up at first with pleasure, assumed a somewhat disappointed look ; " I — I fear you won't make much by that, Phil ? " " You don't seem to make much by that" retorted Phil, pointing with the bowl of his pipe to the dress which lay in her lap and streamed in a profusion of rich folds down to the floor. ' Not much," assented Martha, with a sigh. "Well, then," continued Phil, re-lighting his pipe, and pausing occasionally in his remarks to admire the bowl, " that bein' so, you and I are much in the same fix, so if we unites our small incomes, of course that'll make *em just double the size." " Phil," said Martha, in a lower voice, as she let her hands and the work on which they were engaged fall on her lap, " I think, now, that it will never be." " What'll never be P " demanded the man rudely, looking at the girl in surprise. " Our marriage." *' What! are you going to jilt me ? " "Heaven forbid," said Martha, earnestly. "But tt it i i £ I $« lAft HI ih6 Red Brigade. I ic '* \ ' you and I are not as we once were, Phil, we differ on many points. I feel sure that our union would make us more miserable than we are." " Come, come," cried the man, half in jest and half in earnest. " This kind of thing will never do. You mustn't joke about thai old girl, else 1*11 have you up for breach of promise." Mr. Sparks rose as he spoke, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, put it in his waistcoat pocket, and pre- pared to go. " Martha," he said, " I*m goin* off now to attend to my business, but I haven't made a rap yet to-day, and its hard working on a empty stomach, so i just looked m to light my pipe, and enquire if you hadn't got a shillin' about you, eh I " The girl looked troubled. "Oh, very well," cried Sparks, with an offended air, "if you don't want to accommodate me, never mind, I can get it elsewhere." " Stop ! " cried Martha, taking a leathern purse from her pocket. "Well, it would \i?LyQ been rather ^ #^'* returning and holding out his hand. " There, take it," said Martha i ou k idn c judge too quickly. You don't know why ' . looked put out It IB my— n lAft in the Red Brigade. 59 She stopped short, and then said hurriedly, " Don't drink it, rhil." *' No, I won't. I'm hungry. 1*11 eat it Thankee." With a coarse laugh he left the room, and poor Martha sat down again to her weary toil, which was not in any degree lightened by the fact that she had just given away her last shilling. A moment after, the door opened suddenly and Mr. Sparks looked in with a grin, which did not improve the expression of his countenance. " I say, I wouldn't finish that dress to-night if I was you." " Why not, Phil ? " asked the girl in surprise. " 'Cause the lady won't want it to-morrow arter- noon." '* How do you know ihat P '* " No matter. It's by means of a kind of second- sight I've got, that I find out a-many things. All I can say is that I've got a strong suspicion — a what d'ye call it — a presentiment that Mrs. Middleton, of No. 6, Conway Street, Knightsbridge, won't want her dress to-morrow, so I advise you to go to bed to- night." Without waiting for a reply Mr. Sparks shut the door and descended to the street. Purchasing and I, ■{ 60 Life in the Red Brigade. lighting a cheroot at the nearest tobacco shop with part of Martha's last shilling, he thrust his hands into his pockets, and sauntering along various small streets and squares, gave his undivided attention to business. For a man whose wants were rather extensive and urgent, the " business" did not seem a very pro- mising one. He glanced up at the houses as he sauntered along, appearing almost to expect that some of them would undergo spontaneous combustion for his special accommodation. Occasionally he paused and gazed at a particular house with rapt intensity, as if he hoped the light which flashed from his own eyes would set it on lire ; but the houses being all regular bricks refused to flare up at such a weak insult. Finding his way to Trafalgar Square, Mr. Sparks threw away the end of his cheroot, and, mending his pace, walked smartly along Piccadilly until he gained the neighbourhood of Knightsbridge. Here he pur- chased another cheroot, and while lighting it took occasion to ask if there was a street thereabouts named Conway Street. " Yes, sir, there is," said a small and exceedingly pert crossing-sweeper, who chanced to be standing near the open door of the shop, and overheard the lAfe in the Bed Brigade. 6i LI3 question. " 1*11 show you the way for a copper, sir, but silver preferred if you're so disposed." "Whereabouts is itP" asked Mr. Sparks of the shopman, regardless of the boy. "Round the comer to your right, and after that second turning to your left." "Oh, that's aU wrong," cried the boy. "Wy, *ow should 'ee know hanythink about streets? Never goes nowheres, does nothink but sell snuff an' pigtail, momin*, noon, and night. *Ee should have said, right round the comer to your right, and *ee should have added sir, for that's right w'en a genl'm'n's spoke to, arter w'ich, w'en you've left this 'ere street, take second tumin' to your left, if you'r left-'anded, an' then you come hall right. That's 'ow 'ee ought to have said it, sir." In the midst of this flow of information, Mr. Sparks emerged into the street. " I'll show you the way for love, sir, if you ain't got no money," said the boy in a tone of mock sincerity, stepping up and touching his cap. "Let 'im alone. Bloater," cried another and smaller boy, " don'^t you see ee's one of the swell mo'j, an' don't want to *ave too much attention drawed to himP" No 'ee ain't, Little Jim, ee's only a gen'l'm'n in 1* Si ' it - ; 1 « ' I ii : l!i < ft 63 it/ C 1 *'■ ' ! ' 1 i i 1 * ■ - », i ' i ! 1 s X III f 1 ! 1. tl b Lj «4 Life in the Bed Brigade. recoYer himself his tormentor had doubled round the comer and vanished. Growling savagely, he continued his walk. One of the turns to the left which he had to make led him through a dark and narrow street. Here, keeping carefully in the middle of the road for security, he looked sharply on either side, having his hands out of his pockets now, and clenched, for he fully expected another yell. He was wrong, however, in his ex- pectations. The Bloater happened to know of a long ladder, whose nightly place of repose was on the ground in a certain dark passage, with its end point- ing across that street. Taking up a position beside this ladder, with Little Jim — who followed him, almost bursting with delight — he bided his time and kept as quiet as a mouse. Just in the nick of time the ladder was run out, and Mr. Sparks tripping over it, fell violently to the ground. He sprang up and gave chase of course, but he might as well have followed a will- o*-the- wisp. The young scamps, doubling like hares, took refuge in a dark recess under a stair with which they were well acquainted, and from that position they watched their enemy. They heard him go growling past ; knew, a moment or two later, from the disappointed tone of the growl, that he had found the opening at the other end of the Life in the Red Brigade. 6S passage; heard him return, growling, and saw him for a moment in the dim light of the entrance as he left the place. Then, swiftly issuing from their retreat, they followed. " I say, Bloater," whispered Little Jim, " ee's got such an ugly mug that I do b'lieve 'ee's up to some game or other." " P'raps *ee is," returned the Bloater, meditatively ; " we'll let 'im alone 'an foller 'im up." The prolonged season of peace that followed, in- duced Mr. Sparks to believe that his tormentors had left him, he therefore dismissed them from his mind, and gave himself entirely to business. Arrived at Conway street, he found that it was one of those semi-genteel streets in the immediate neighbourhood of Kensington Gardens, wherein dwell thriving trades- people who know themselves to be rising in the world, and unfortunate members of the "upper ten," who know that they have come down in the world, but have not ceased the struggle to keep up appearances. It was a quiet, unfrequented street, in which the hum of the surrounding city sounded like the roar of a distant cataract. Here Mr. Sparks checked his pace — stopped — and looked about him with evident caution. ** Ho, ho 1 " whispered little Jim 66 "Life in the Red Brigade. It- 1 if " We've tracked 'im down," replied the Bloater with a chuckle. Mr. Sparks soon found No. 6. On the door a brass plate revealed " Mrs. Middleton." " Ha I she must have it, must she, an* tcon*t take no denial," muttered the man between his teeth. Mr. Sparks observed that one of the lower windows was open, which was not to be wondered at, for the weather was rather warm at the time. He also observed that the curtains of the window were made of white flowered muslin, and that they swayed gently in the wind, not far from a couple of candles which stood on a small table. There was no one in the room at the time. "Strange," muttered Mr. Sparks, with a grim smile, " that people will le-ave lights so near muslin curtains I ** Most ordinary people would have thought the candles in question at a sufficiently safe distance from the curtains, but Mr. Sparks apparently thought otherwise. He entertained peculiar views about the danger of fire. From the position which the two boys occupied they couid not see the man while he wab uaos engaged in examining and commenting on No. 6, Conway Street, but they saw him quite well when he L^e ifi the Bed Brigade, tj crossed the street (which had only one side to it, a wall occupying the other), and they saw him still better in the course of a few seconds when a bright light suddenly streamed towards him, and illumined hia villanous countenance, and they heard as well as saw him, the next instant, when he shouted "Jire / Jire / ** md rushed frantically away. " Hallo ! " exclaimed the Bloater, and dashed oflF at full speed. Little Jim echoed the sentiment and followed. Robert, alias Raw Herring, was a sharp-witted lad. He understood the case (partly at least) in a moment, and proceeded to appropriate action. Being intimately acquainted with that part of London, he took a short cut, overshot Mr. Sparks, and was first to give the alarm at the fire-station. When, therefore, Mr. Sparks ran in, panting and shouting " fire ! " great was his surprise to find the men already roused, and the horses being attached to the engine. " Where away ? '* inquired one of the firemen, supposing that Sparks, perhaps, brought information of another fire. ** No. 6, Conway Street,*' he gasped. " All right, we've got the noos already. The boys brought it." The Bloater, with a mouth extending from ear to !i ?■ V i i i y » I It i' ■i •• i» *' I'! i I '' lii! it 111 hi 68 Life in the Red Brigade. ear and all his teeth displayed, uttered the single word " sold I " as Mr. Sparks turned his eyes on him. One glance was enough. The man became very pale, and suddenly left the station amid a shout of laughter from the firemen, as they leaped on the engine and drove away, followed by the two boys whose spirits were already excited to the highest pitch of ecstacy by a fire. It was early morning before the fire was subdued, and No. 6 left the blackened skeleton of a house. Long before that, the Bloater and Little Jim had sought repose in the cart-shed of a neighbouring stable. Long before that Mr. Philip Sparks had retired to rest, growling anathemas on the heads of boys in general, and crossing-sweepers in particular ; and not very long before that poor Martha Reading had put in the last stitch of her work, and fallen into a profound sleep in her chair. Mr Sparks turned out to be a true prophet. Mrs. Middleton did not insist on having her dress home that afternoon, and when Martha, true to her promise, conveyed it to No. 6, Conway Street, she *bund no one there to receive it except a few drenched men of the Red Brigade and the police. CHAPTER y. Mr. Philip Sparks, though not naturally fond of society, was, nevertheless, obliged to mingle occasion- ally with that unpleasant body, for the purpose of recruiting his finances. He would rather have remained at home and enjoyed his pipe and beer in solitude, but that was not possible in the circum- stances. Owing, no doubt, to the selfishness of the age in which he lived, people would not go and pour money into his pockets, entreat him to accept of the same, and then retire without giving him any farther trouble. On the contrary, even when he went out and took a great deal of trouble to obtain money — much more trouble than he would have had to take, had he been an honest working man — people refused to give it him, but freely gave him a good deal of gratuitous advice instead, and sometimes threatened the donation of other favours which, in many in- stances, are said to be more numerous than ha'pence. Things in general being in this untoward condition, p 70 Life m the Red Brigade. \^ Mr. Sparks went out one morning and entered into society. Society did not regard him with a favour- able eye, but Sparks was not thin-skinned; he persevered, being detennined, come what might, to seek his fortune. Poor fellow, like many a man in this world who deems himself a most unlucky fellow, he had yet to learn the lesson that fortunes must be tprought for, not sought for, if they are to be found. Finding society grufiFer than usual that morning, and not happening to meet with his or anybody else's fortune in any of the streets through which he passed, he resolved to visit Martha Reading's abode ; did so, and found her "not at home.*' With desparing disgust he then went to visit his sister. Mrs. Crashington was obviously at home, for she opened the door to him, and held up her finger. " Hallo, Mag I " exclaimed Sparks, a little sur- prised. ' Hush I " said Mrs. Crashington, admitting him, '* speak low.** Tbns admonished, Mr. Sparks asked m a hoarse <^bisper, " what was up P " "Ned's had a bad fall, Phil," whispered Mrs. Crashington, in a tremulous tone that was so unlike her usual voice as to make Sparks look at her in sur- prise not unmingled with anxiety. lAfe in the Red Brigade, 71 "You don't moan to say, Mag, that he's agoin' to to knock under P " " I hope not, Phil, but the doctor- al Here the poor woman broke down altogether, and sobbed quietly as she led her brother through the house, and into the little bed-room where the injured fire- man lay. Ned's bruised, burned, and lacerated frame was concealed under a patchwork coverlet. Only his face was visible, but that, although the least injured part of his body, was so deadly pale that even Mr. Sparks was solemnized by the supposition that he was in the presence of Death. " Oh, Ned, Ned I ** exclaimed Maggie, unable to repress her grief, "can you — can you ever forgive me?'* She laid her hand on the fireman's broad breast, and passionately kissed his brow. He opened his eyes, and whispered with difficulty, " Forgive you, Maggie ? God for ever bless you." He could say no more, owing to excessive weak- ness. " Come, missus, you musn't disturb him," said David Clazie, emerging from behind the curtains at the foot of the bed. " The doctor's orders was strict — to keep *im lu'.at. You'd better go into the other i: :!l w 72 Life in tht Red Brigade. i III I f^ room, an* your brother likewise. Pr'aps you might Bend 'im to tell Joe Dashwood to be ready." David Clasde, who was more a man of action than of words, quietly, but firmly, ejected the brother and sister from the little room while he was speaking, and, having shut the door, sat down at his post again as a guard over his sick comrade. "Seems to me it's all up with 'im," observed Sparks, as he stood gazing uneasily into the fire. As Mrs. Crashington replied only by sobbing, he '•ontinued, after a few minutes — " Does the doctor say it's all up, Mag P " " No, oh no," replied the poor woman, " he don't quite say so; but I can't git no comfort from that. Ned has lost such a quantity of blood, it seems impossible for him to git round. They're goin' to try a operation on 'im to-day, but I can't understand it^ an' don't believe in it. They talk of puttin' noo blood into 'im I An* that reminds me that the doctor is to be here at twelve. Do run round, Phil, to the Dashwoods, and tell Joe to be here in good time." " What's Joe wanted for ? " "Never mind, but go and tell him that. I can't talk just now," she said, pushing her brother out of the room. Tapping at Joe Dashwood's door, Phil received Life in the Red Brigade. 73 of red from a strong, deep yoice permission to "come in." He entered, and found a very different state of thino;s from that which he had just left. A bright room, and bright, happy faces. The windows were bright, which made the light ai)pear brighter than usual ; the grate was bright ; the furniture was bright ; the inco of the clock, whose interior seemed about to explode on everj' occasion of striking the hour, was bright— almost to smiling ; and the pot-lids, dishcovers, etc., were bright — so bright as to be absolutely brilliant. Joe Dashwood and his little wife were conversing near the window, but, although their faces were unquestionably bright by reason of contentment, coupled with a free use of soap and the jack-towel, there was, nevertheless, a shade of sadness in theii looks and tones. Nothing of the sort, however, appeared on the countenances of the Rosebud and young Fred Crashington. These gushing little off- shoots of the Red Brigade were too young to realize the danger of Ned's condition, but they were quite old enough to create an imaginary fire in the cup- board, which they were wildly endeavouring to extinguish with a poker for a "branch" and a bucket for a fire-engine, when Mr. Sparks entered. " Oh I kik, Feddy, kik ; put it out kik, or it'll bu'n down all 'e hoi^se," cried little May, eagerly, as she F B, I !■! I il \ 'h 'ii i if; » i 74 Life in the Red Brigade, tossed back a cataract of golden curls from her flushed couDtenanoe, and worked away at the handle of the bucket with all her might. " All right I " shouted Fred, who had been sent to play with the Rosebud that he might be out of the way. " Down with No. 1 ; that's your sort ; keep 'er goin' ; hooray I " He Lrought the poker down with an awful whack Oil the cupboard at this point, causing the crockery to rattle again. " Hallo I youngster, mind what you're about," cried Joe, " else there will be more damage caused by the engine than the iire — ^not an uncommon thing, either, in our practice ! '* It was at this point that he replied to Mr. Sparks's knock. " Come in, Mr. Sparks, you've heard of your poor brother-in-law's accident, I suppose P " "Yea, I've just corned Trom his house with a luc. -sage. You're wanted to be there in good time." "All right, I'll be up to time," said Joe, putting on his coat and cap, and smiling to his wife, as he added, " It'r a queer sort o' thing to do. We'll be blood-relations, Ned and I, after this. Look after these youngsters, MoUj, else they'll knock your crcckery to bitfi. Gvod day, Mr. Sparks." :rm^ ,*.-, T. Life in the Red Brigade. 7$ poor itli a le." |»utting as lie 'U be after your '* Good day,"* replied Sparks, as Joe went out. Then, turning to Mrs. Dashwood, " What sort of operation is it they're goin* to perform on Ned ? *' "Did you not hear? It's a very curious one. Ned has lost so much blood from a deep cut in his leg that the doctors say he can't recover, no matter how strong his constitution is, unless he gits some blood put into him, so they're goin' to put some o' my Joe's blood into him." " What I " exclaimed Sparks, " take blood out o* your husband and put it hot and livin' into Ned? No, no, I've got a pretty big swallow, but I can't git that down." "If you can't swallow it you'll have to bolt it, then, for it's a fact," returned Mary, with a laugh. "But how do they mean to go about it?" asked Sparks, with an unbelieving expression of counte- nance. " Well, I ain't quite sure about that," replied Mary ; " they say that the doctor cuts a hole in a vein of the arms of both men, and puts a pipe or something of that sort into the two veins, anJ so lets the blood run from the one man into the other. I don't half believe it myself, to say truth ; but it's quite true that they're goin' to try it on Ned. The i fi !l "' 76 Life in (he Red Brigade^ doctor says it has bin tried before with great success, ai)d that the main thing is to get a stout, healthy young man to take the blood from. They thought, at first, to get a healthy youth from the country, but my Joe begged so hard to let him supply his friend and comrade with what they wanted, that they agreed, and now he's off to have it done. Ain't it funny?" " Funny I " exclaimed Sparks, " well, it is, just But I'm not such a fool as to believe that they can pump the blood out o' one man into another in that fashion." *' I hope they can for poor Ned's sake," said Mary, in a sad tone, as she stirred a large pot which stood simmering on the fire. There was a short silence after that, for Mary was thinking of the strange operation that was probably going on at that moment, and Phil Sparks was debating with himself as to the propriety of attempt- ing to induce Mrs. Dash wood to lend him a shilling or two. He could not easily make up his mind, however ; not because he was ashamed to ask it, but, because he was afraid of receiving a rebuke from tie pretty little woman. He knew that she and Martha Reading were intimate friends, and he had a suspicion that Mrs. Dash wood was aware of Martha's fondness lAfe in the Med Brigade, 77 for him, and that she bore him no good will in con- sequence. Besides, iilthough one of the sweetest tempered women in London, Mary was one whose indignation could be roused, and whose clear blue eye had something overawing in it, especially to scoundrels. He therefore sat there more than an hour, conversing on various subjects, while Mary busied herself in household matters, which she occasionally left off in order to assist in extinguishing the fire in the cupboard ! At last Sparks resolved to make the attempt, and thought he would begin by trying to propitiate Maiy by commenting on her child. "That's a pretty little girl of yours, missis," he remarked in a casual way. " That she is," cried Mary, catching up the child and kissing her rosy face all over ; " and she's better than pretty — she's good, good as gold." "Oh 'top, ma. Let May down, kiki Fire not out yit I " " That's right, never give in, May. Wot a jolly fireman you'd make ! " cried Fred, still directing ail his energies to the cupboard. " That's a queer sort o' helmet the boy's got on,** said Sparks, alluding to a huge leathern headpiece, of a curious old-fashioned form, which was rolling m SSm 7« Life in the Red Brigade, ^ Ui I, about on the boy's head, being much too large lur him. "It was bought for him by my Joe, in an old curiosity shop," said Mary. " Ha ! " replied Sparks. " Well, Missis Dash- wood, I'll have to be goin', though I haven't got no business to attend to — still, a man must keep movin' about, you know, specially w'en he's had no breakfast, an' han't got nothin' to buy one." " That's a sad condition," said Mary, pursing her lips, for she knew the man. " It is, missis. You ouldn't lend ms half-a-crown, could you ? " " No, I couldn't," replied the lii-tle woman with decision, while her cheeks reddened; "moreover, I wouldn't if I could. You ought to be ashamed of s'ourself, Mr. Sparks; it's a disgrace for a man of v'our strength and years to be goin' about borrowing 38 you're in the habit of doin' ; and you have got the 'mpudeuce, too, to be running after poor Martha Rea«ling, but you shall never get her if I can prevent it" Mr. Sparks was much nettled by the first part of Mrs. Dashwood's speech. The last part put him in a towering passion. He started up, but had t^he wisdom to restrain himself to some extent. lAfe in the Red Brigade. 79 i> " Perhaps," he said, betweou his teeth, " you canH prevent it, miosis." " Perhaps not, but I shall try." At that moment. Master Fred Crashington chanced to stumble in his energetic attempts to extinguish the fire in the cupboard, which the Rosebud assured him, in excited tones, "^as " not out yit ; gittin' wus an' wus 1 " In falling, the ola fashioned helmet flew ofi, and the comb of it hit Mr. Sparks a severe blow on the shin-bone. In the heat of the moment he dealt Fred a violent slap on the cheek, which sent him ^lmbling and howling on the floor. At that moment the door opened and Joe Dashwood entered. He had heard the noise before entering, and now stood with a stem frown on hif? face as he gazed at his wife and her visitor. "Did you do that?" he demanded of Sparks, pointing to the little boy. "He did, Joe," said Mary; "but -" Joe waited for no more. He sei^.ed Mr. Sparks by the nape ol vhe neck with a grip that almost choked ii 31 — sti'^n^ though he was — and thrust him out of the room, do"n the oLirs, enr' out into the street, where he gave him a final Idok, and shut the door. " Oh, dear Joe I " exclaijned Mary, on his return, ** you shouldn't have beta bo violent to *im.*' ;; I I!! ill >.'^?^ z",^. 80 Life in the Med Brigade. ¥\m n w .n ii: " W*y not, Molly ? Surely you would not have me stand by and look on while he insulted you and knocked down the boy P " " Ko, but it would have been a better rebuke if you had ordered him off quietly. No good ever comes of violence, Joe, and he's such a spiteful, vindictive man that he will never forgive you — perhaps he'll do you a mischief if he ever gets the chance." " I hope he will never get the chance," replied Joe. " I hope not, but I fear him," said Mary. *' But tell me, Joe, how has the operation succeeded ? ** ** First-rate, Molly. Ned and I are blood relations now ! I don't know how much they took out o* me, but it don*t signify, for I am none the worse, an' poor Ned seems much the better." Here Joe entered into a minute detail of all that had been done — how a puncture had been made in ODe of the veins of his arm, and another in one of the veins of Ned's arm ; and how the end of a small tube with a bulb in the middle of it had bean inserted into his puncture, and the other end into Ned'a punc- ture, and the blood pumped, as it were, from the full -blooded man into the injured man until it was supposed that he had had enough of it ; and how Ned had already sliown signs of revival while he (Joe) didn't feel the loss at all, as was made abundantly lAfe in the Med Brigade. 8i eyident by the energetic manner in which he had kicked Mr. Sparks out of his house after the operatiox' was over. To all this Mary listened with wide open eyes, and Fred Crashington listened with wider open eyes ; and little Rosebud listened with eyes and mouth equally open — not that she understood anything of it, but because the others were in that condition. " Now, May, my pet," cried the fireman, catching up his little one and tossing her in the air, " Ned, that is so fond of you, is a blood-relation, so you may call him * uncle * next time he comes — uncle Ned ! " " Unkil Ned," lisped the Rosebud. "And me cousin," chimed in Fred. " Iss — cuzn," responded May. " Just so," cried Joe, seizing Fred round the waist and tossing him on his right shoulder — Rosebud being already on his left — " come, I'll carry you down the fire-escape now ; hurrah ! down we go." How long Joe would have gone on playing with the children we cannot say, for he was interrupted by the entrance of Bob and David Clazie. " Come along, Joe," said the latter, " it's your turn to go along with us to drill." " It's ard work to 'ave to go playin' at fires doorin' ill M -TT rU . :'l 82 Life in the Red Brigade. the day, an* puttin* of *em out doorin* the night, Joe ; ain*t it P " said Bob Clazie. " So 'tis Bob, but it must be done, you know. Duty first, pleasure afterwards," replied Joe, with a laugh. " Besides, the green hands could never learn how to do it if they hadn't some of the old uns to show 'em the way.'* " Hall right," replied Bob ; *' come along." They left the room with a hearty "good-day" to Mrs. Dashwood, and a nod to the children. Putting on the round sailor's caps which replaced the helmets when they were not on actual service, the three firemen took their way towards the city, and finally reached a large piece of open ground, where a number of "^ory old houses had been partly pulled down, to be soon replaced by new ones. The Fire Brigade had obtained permission to perform their drill there until the groimd should be required. It was a curious waste place in the heart of the great city, with rubbish cumbering the ground in front of the half demolished houses. Here several ungainly fire-escapes leaned against the ruined walls, and thrust their heads through broken windows, or stood on the ground, rampant, as if eager to have their heads crammed into smoke and flames. Here also were several manual engines, with their appropriate gearing and hose, and !l lAft in (he Med Brigade, S3 near to these were grouped a band of as fine, fresa, muscular young follows as one could wish to see. These were the new hands of the brigade — the young men, recently engaged, who were undergoing* drill. Each was a picked, and, to some extent, a proved man. The lightest and least powerful among these men was a sturdy, courageous fellow. He, like the others, had been tried at an old fire-escape which stood in a comer of the yard, and which was unusually large and cumbrous. If he had failed to " work " various por- tions of that escape single-handed, without assistance, he would have been pronounced physically unfit for the service. Courage and strength alone would not have been sufficient. Weight, to a certain extent, was essential. Among these youths were several of the older hands, and one or two officers of the brigade, the latter being distinguished by brass ornaments or "brasses" on their shoulders. They were there to superintend and direct. In the midst of them stood their chief, ex- plaining the minutieB of the work they had to do. When our three firemen reached the drill-ground the chief was showing his recruits how to coil several lengths of the hose, so as to avoid a twist or " kink," which might endanger its buTDting when the water was turned suddenly on by the powerful " steamers." I I'l I 84 Life tn (he P.ed JHrifjade, i 1 f I i rio then pointed to tlio tall empty buildings beside him and ordered his recruits to go into the third floor of the premises, drag up the hose, and bring the branch to bear on the back rooms, in which fire was supposed to be raging " Look alive, now," he said, " see how quickly you'll manage it.*' Instantly the active youths sprang to their work. Some got the hose out of the box of an engine and un- coiled it length by length towards the house, others screwed the lengths together at the same time that the water-trough was being set up and the suction pipe attached. Meanwhile, some had run up into the building, and from an upper window let down a rope so as to be ready to drag up the hose when it was liade long enough to reach them. Thus they practised during the forenoon the mimic warfare with the flames which they should have to carry into actual operation at night. In another part of the yard a foreman was instructing some recraitsin the use of the fire-escape. Under a neighbouring archway stood a small group of idlers looking on at these stirring operations, one of these was Philip Sparks, another was the Bloater. The interests of the first had taken him there, the second had been led to the scene by his affections. Sparks did not observe the Bloater, but the M # I JOB ENGAGE U IX PRIVATK rRACTICK. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) # {•/ L ///. C^/A '/ M Photographic Sciences Corporation '^^/«^ % '^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 "^- Just you go round by the other end of &e street and creep as close as you can ; you're BmaU, you know, an' won't be so easy seen as me. i.^ to make out wot they're up to and then " "Then wot P" « W'y come back an' let me know. Away ! " said the Bloater, waving his hand with the air of a field- marshal. Jim disappeared at once and was absent about ten mmutes, during which Master Robert Herring sat in the dark passage biting his nailj and feeling really anoomfortable, u is usuaUy the case with energetio w rii s 96 X{/» m ^A« i2e(/ Brigade, i ii spirits when reduced to unavoidablo inaction. Pre- sentlj little Jim returned with, as his £riend and patron remarked, his eyes like two saucers, and his face aa white as a sheet. "HaUo, Jiai, wofsupP" "Oh, Bob I" gasped Jim. " Speak I ** exclaimed the Bloater, seizing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently. " They've got the 'ouse choke full 0' combustibles," gasped Jim in an excited whisper. "I see *em stuffin* straw and pitch, an' I dun know wot all, through a BEiall back winder." " So — tuHc'a the time for a Bobby," observed the Bloater, leaping up. " No, taint," said Jim, detaining him. " I *eard *em speak. Oh, they're sly dogs! They ain't agoin' to run away arter settin' it alight. They're goin' to run to the station, rou^e up the men, an' help to put it out I an* one of 'em says, ' Jeff,' says *e, larfin', 'won't we lend 'em a good 'and to put it hout neither I* And the other grinned, an' says, * Yes, Phil, we'll do our best, an' it'll go hard if I can't in the middle 0' the smoke an' flames, pit & chance at Joe to — » »a didn't say no more, but 'e drewed 'is finger acroM 'is throat ; but the one as 'e called Ph'l said, ' No, Je£^ no, I'll split on you if you do. It's quite enough to, >» .Ci« in the Rtd Briyude. gr give -im a rap over the W I ■ I didn't wMt to ear no more arter that" "They're safe .ot to go off, theu," observed the Bloater, "nevertheless, we must take . Bobby into our^ conHdence now, for the case begin, to look J^I'^^'V^^^. "''' ^"^P^S m the dark and sUent mght outside of "No. 5." the inmates of vhat modest mansion were buried in profound repose. Joe Da.,hwood. oa leaving the station for the Iht and g<,mg home, had found that MoUy had already retired and was ash>ep in the inner room with the Kosebud m her bosom. After contemplating this pleaaant sight for a few mmute, he returned to the outer or kitehen-dino- drawing-room, where he found a cot extemporised out he sturdy httle figure of Fred Crashington. That eu- thusiastic amateur fiieman had been invited to take up his quarters at No. 6, until his father should be out of danger, and having devoted his energies during the entire day, along with the Rosebud, in a fiitUe effort to extingu^h that obstinate fire in the cupboard, had at ength been persuaded to retire exhausted to the bakmg-board. where he lay with a happy smile on hil i-arted hps. aud hi. right arm embracing U-.e quaint 98 lAfe in the Bed Brigade 1*1 old helmet, with which he was wont to extinguish his Httle head. Being unusually tired that night, hut not sleepy, Joe resolved to solace himself with a pipe before lying down. He threw off his coat, vest, and braces, pulled up his flannel shirt, so as to let it hang comfortably loose over the waistband of his trousers, sat down in an armchair in front of the fire, filled his pipe, and began to smoke. His intention was to " take a few whiffs and then turn in," but the influence of the tobacco appeared to be soporific, for he soon began to nod; then he removed his pipe, stared earnestly at the fire, and established quite a nodding acquaintance with it. Presently he dropped his chin on his broad chest and snored steadily. From this condition of repose he was awakened by a sensation as if of suffocation by smoke. This was such an extremely natural, not to say habitual, state of things with Joe, that he was at least a couple of seconds in realizing the fact that there was unusual cause for haste and vigorous action. Like a giant re- freshed Joe leaped to his work. Every fibre of his huge frame was replete with energy, and his heart beat strong, but it beat steadily ; not a vestige of a flutter was there, for his head was clear and cool. He knew exactly what to do. He knew exactly what was lAfe in the Bed Brigade, 99 being done. Surprise did, indeed, fill him when he re- flected that it was his own house which had caught fire, but that did not for a moment confuse him as to the certainty that the engine must he already out, and his comrades rushing to his assistance. He strode to the door and opened it. A volume of dense black smoke, followed hy sheets of flame drove him back. At the same moment loud shouts were heard outside, and a shriek came from the inner room. Joe dashed towards it. In passing, he pulled Fred off the baking board, and at the same moment seized the curious old helmet and almost instinctively clapped it on his own head. There was a back door to the house. Joe grasped his wife, and the Rosehud, and the bed- clothes in one mighty embrace, and bore the whole bundle towards this back door. Before he reached it it was dashed open by Bob Clazie, who sprang in with the " branch." Boh, having been roused to a fire so near at hand, had not taken time to go through the usual process of putting on his uniform. He, like Joe, was in dishabille. " Here, take care of 'em. Let go the branch ; 1*11 look after it. Foul play here. Let the police look out." Joe said this sharply as he thrust the bundle con- taining his wife into Bob's arms, and, picking up the fOO i ^ V: '!.• It' I li: i4/% w ^Ae i?^i Brigade, Rosebud, who had slipped out, clapped her on T^oVs back. Bob made for the back staircase, while Joe picked up the branch, and turning his head in the direction of the open door, shouted in the voice of a stentor, " Down with 'er I " Meanwhile, Fred, who had a vague improoaion that the fire in the cupboard had got to a powerful head at last, picked up the hose and looked on with a sleepy smile. Obedient to the order, the water rushed on, filled and straightened the hose, threw Fred on his back on the floor, and caused the nozzle to quiyer as Joe directed it to the fire. Just then a man dashed into the room. ** Lend a hand here," cried Joe glancing round. He saw in a momert by the man's look that he meant mischief. Instantly he turned the nozzle full in his face. Jeff, for it was he, fell as if he had been shot, and was partly washed, partly rolled down the back staircase, at the foot of which a policeman was prepared to receive him, but Jeff sprang up, knocked down the policeman, and fled. Seeing this, Mr. Spnrks took alarm, and was about to follow when the liloater suddenly sprang at his throat and little Jim caught him by the legs. He quickly disengaged him- self, however, and ran off at fall speed, closely followed by his youn^ tormentors and two policemen, besides t Lift m tht ItM Brigadt. loi mi^llaneou8 crowd of hooting and yelling lad, and It WM an exciting chase that ensned. The two Fohcemen were young and strong, and for some time kept pretty near the fugitive, but gradually they fell behind, and, by doubling through several narrow streets, Sparks threw them off the scent. As for the crowd the greater part of those who composed it gave in after a short run. But the Bloater and little Jim were not thus to be got rid of They were fleet of foot and ea«ly kept Mr. Sparks in view, though he made desperate efforte to catch them, aa well as to get awav from them. The two boys were so persevering that they followed him all the way to Thames Street, and just when the ijihappy man thought he had at length eluded them, they set up the cry of " Stop thief I " Li gave chase again with a new foroe of policemen and roughs at their heels. Turning abruptly into a dark passage, S,,„, k. rushed upstairs, burst open a door and feU exhausted on the floor of the cheerless room occupied by poor Martha iteading. Almost at the same mon.ent the two boys who were at least a hundred yards in advance of the other pui-suers, sprang into the room the'BWtor '"" '"" "' ''^' '"• "'^" «"H 103 lAfe in the Red Brigade. Poor startled Martha, leaping at once to tJie conc]ii« sion that he was pursued, fell on her knees, and, in a voice of agonizing entreaty, begged the boys to have mercy on him I " Eh I hallo I what ? " exclaimed the Bloater, taken by surprise. Then, under a sudden impulse, he dashed out of the room followed by little Jim, and rushed into the street just as the first of the crowd came up. '• This way I Straight on I hooray I " he shouted, leading oflf the crowd in the direction of the river. The crowd followed. The Bloater led them into a maze of intricate back streets ; shot far ahead of them, and then, doubling, like a hare, into a retired corner, stood chuckling there while the shouting crowd swept by. For a few minutes, little Jim was utterly bereft of speech, owing to a compound of amazement, delight, excitement and exhaustion. After a little time he said — " Well, this is a lark I But, I say. Bloater, d'ye think it was right to let 'im off like that ? " " Who's let 'im off, stoopid ?*' retorted the Bloater. *' Don't I know is name — at least part of it ; an* the 'abitation of 'is wife, or sweet'eart, or sister, or suthin' o' that sort f " Life in the Red Brigade, 103 " Oh, ah, werry true," replied little Jim, with a terminating " sk I " " Well, that bein' 'ow it is, we han't let 'im off just yet, d'ye see ? So, now we'U go an' turn in." With that observation the Bloater and little Jim went away to search for and appropriate some con- venient place of repose for the night H iii: .1 cnAPTETi vn. J {I 'if ■! Seated by the fire-side of Joe Dashwood's new abode — for the old one, although not quite " burnt out," was uninhabitable — Bob Clazie chatted and smoked his pipe contentedly. At the conclusion of a remark, he looked up in Mrs. Dashwood's puzzled face, and said, " That's 'ow it is, d'ye see ? " " No, I don't see," replied Mary, with a smile. "Nop well, now, that is koorious. W'y, it's as plain as the nose on my face. See here. As the law now stands, there is no public authority to inwestigate the cause o' firos in London; well, wot's the con- sikence, w'y, that there are regular gangs of scoun- drels who make it their business to arrange fires for their own adwantage." " Now, that's just what I don't understand," said Mary, knitting her pretty brows ; " what advantage eon it be to any one to set fire to a house, except to pick- pockets who may get a chance of doing business in the crowd f " ^1 Lt/e in the Red Brigade, 105 " WeU, that of itself is enough to endooce some hlackguards to raise a fire, and likewise to get the shiUin' for bringin' the first noose to the station; which, by the way, was the chief okipation of that wiUain Pha Sparks, I'm pretty sure. But here's 'ow it is. The swindlers I speak of, go an' take 'ouses —the further from fire-stations the better. Then they furnishes the 'ouses, arter which they insures 'em. In the coarse of a short time they removes most of the furniture in a quiet way, and then set the 'ouses alight, themselves escapin', p'rhaps, in nothin' but their night clothes. So, you see, they gits the insurance, which more than pays for all the inmiture they had bought, besides which they 'ave a good deal of the furniture Itself to sell or do wot they please with. That's one T^^ay in which fires are raised,— ain't it Joe P " Joe, who sat smoking in silence on the other side of the fire, nodded, and, turning his head round, advised Fred Crashington and Httle May to make "less row." " But we can't put it out widout a row I " remon- strated the Rosobud. " What I hs.ve you found a fire in this cupboard, as well as in the (me 0' the old house P" asked Joe, with a laugh. " Iss, iss; an' it's a far wuss fire than the last one I" I '11 io6 TAft in the Red Brigade. " That's your sort ! " cried Fred ; •• now then, May, don't stand jawin* there, but down with number two. Look alive I" •• Hii ! chips o' the old blocks, I see," said Bob Clazie, with a grin. " "Well, as I was sayin*, there's another class o' men, not so bad as the Rrst, but bad enough, who are indooced to go in for this crime of fire-raisin' — arson they calls it, but why so is beyond me to diskiver. A needy tradesman, for instance, when at his wits' -end for money, can't help thinkin* that a lucky spark would put him all right." " But how could the burning of his goods put him all right P " demanded Mary. " W'y, *e don't want goods, you know, 'e wants to sell 'is goods an* so git money ; but nobody will buy, 60 *e can't sell, nor git money, yet money must be 'ad, for creditors won't wait. "Wot then P All the goods are insured against fire. Well, make a bonfire of em, redoose 'em all to hashes, an' of coorse the insurance companies is bound to pay up, so 'e gits rid of the goods, gits a lot o* ready money in 'and, pays off 'is creditors, and p'rhaps starts fresh in a noo business! Now, a public officer to inwestigate such matters would mend things to some extent, though 'e mightn't exactly cure 'em. Some time ago the Yankees, I'm told, appointed a officer they called a fire* L\f9 in the Bed Brigade. 107 marshal in some of their cities, and it's said that the consikence was a sudden an' extraor'nary increase in the conwictions for arson, followed hy a remarkabla .decrease in the number 0' fires 1 They've got some- thin' 0* the samo sort in France, an' over all the chief towns 0' Europe, I b'lieve, but we don't need no such precautions in London. We're rich, you know, an* /an afford to let scamps bum right an' left. It ain't worth our while to try to redooce the number of our rires. We've already got an average of about five fires every twenty-four hours in London. Why should we try to make *em less, w'en they furnishes 'ealthy work to such fine fellows as Joe and me and the police — ^not to mention the fun afforded to crossin'- B weepers and other little boys, whose chief enjoyment in life would be gone if there was no fires." "If I had the making of the laws," exclaimed Hary, flushing with indignation as she thought of her own recent risks and losses in consequence of fire- raising, "I*d have every man that set light to his house hanged / " " Ah; an' if *e could also be draw'd and quartered/* added Bob, *' and *ave the bits stuck on the weather- cocks of St. Paul's, or atop of Temple Bar, it would serve *im right." "We must have yea into Parliament some day. i io8 1^9 in the Red Brigade, k \ Molly," said Joe, with a smile. " "Women are tryin* hard, I helieve, to get the right to vote for members ; w'y not go the whole hog and vote themselves in P " " They'd make splendid firemen too," said Clazie, " at least if they were only half as vigorous as your little May. By the way, Joe," continued Bob, " hjis Sparks been took yet P " ** Not yet. It is rumoured that the crossin'-sweeper who chased him down so smartly, suddenly favoured his escape at last, from some unaccountable cause or other. I suppose that Sparks bribed him." " You're sure it was Sparks, are you P " inquired Bob. " Quite sure. It is true I only saw his confederate, but one of the men who had often seen Sparks in company with Crash ington, his brother-in-law, knew him at once and saw him run ofif, with the boys after him. He's a bad lot, but I hope he'll escape for poor Mrs. Crashington's sake." "And / hope he won't escape, for poor Martha Beading's sake I " said Mary with much decision of tone. " That's his sweet'art — a friend of Molly's I " said Joe to Bob in explanation. At this point in the conversation. Master Fred OrojBhington, in his frantic efforts to reach an elevated mi Lt/e in the lied Brigade, 109 pai-t of the cupboard, fell buckwuiiLj, drawing a shelf and all its couteuts on the top of himself and May. Neither of them waa hurt, though both were much frightened. "I think that must have put the fire out at last," said Joe, with a laugh, as he took the panting rosebud on his knee and smoothed her soft little head. "We'll sit quiet now and have a chat." A knock at the outer door here called Mrs. Dash- wood from the room. " Fire ! " exclaimed May, holding up her finger and listening with eager expectation. "No, little woman," said Joe, "they would ring oud if it was fire." Meanwhile Mrs. Dashwood opened the door and found herself confronted by a boy, with his hands in his pockets and his cap thrown in a reckless way half on the side and half on the back of his head. "Oh, I suppose you are the boy Herring, sent here by Miss Reading," said Mrs. Dashwood. " Well, as to that, ma'am, you must be guided by taste. I've 'eard of men of my years an' standin' bein' styled 'obblede'oys. My name, likewise, is open to question. Some of my friends calls me 'Erring— others of 'em, Raw 'Erring—others, again, the Bloater. But I'm in no wise partikler, I did come <^ i no 1^9 in the Red Brigruk, ■■ il Ik % wi s from Miss Reading to 'ave an interview with Mrs. Dashwood — whom — I presoom " Here the Bloater laid liis hand on his heart and made a courtly bow. Mrs. Dash wood laughed, and caic, " come in, boy." "I have a pal, ma'am — a chum — a — in fact a friend — may I " Without finishing his sentence or waiting for a reply, the Bloater gave a sharp whistle, and Little Jim stood by his side as if by magical iniRuence, look- ing «he embodiment of united innocence and im- pudence. *' Come in, both of you, and make haste," said Mary, ushering them into a small empty room. " Now, boy " " Bloater, ma'am, if you 'ave no objection.** " Well, Bloater, our communication with each other must be brief and to the point, because '* " Yes, ma'am — sharp and short,*' interrupted the Bloater — " reasons not required." Smiling in spite of herself, Mrs. Dash wood said — *' You know Mr. Sparks, and can — can — in short, give him into the hands of justice." " If I knowed w'ere justice was," said the Bloater, sternly, " p'raps I might give Mr. Sparks into 'is 'ands, but I don'i It's my opinion ihat justice ain't finished li f» d Life in the Red Brigade, III yet. They've made 'is 'ands no doubt— and pretty strong ones they are too— but they 'ave'nt give 'im brains yet. 'Ows'ever, to make a long story short, 'as 'Amlet said to 'is father's ghost, w'ich was prince of Timbuctoo, I do know Mr. Sparks, and I can give 'im into the 'ands of the p'lice— wot then P " "Do it!'* said Mrs. Dashwood, with sudden intensity of feeling and manner, "Do it, boy— ("Bloater," murmured the lad) do it. Bloater. Oh I you have no idea what a blessing it would be to— to —to— a poor, dear girl who is mad— infatuated and, and— then, he is such a scoundrel ; such a fire-raiser, deceiver, villain- »* "You don't appear to like 'im yourself," remarked the Bloater. He said this so quietly and with an air of cahnness which contrasted so strongly with Mrs. Dashwood's excitement, that little Jim gave vent to an irresistible " sk " and blew his nose violently to distract attention from it. "Will you not consent to give up a thorough scoundrel, who every one condems P " demanded Mrs. Dashwood, with sudden indignation. " WeU, that depends " "Bloater," said Mary, with increasing earnestness, " I cannot bribe you— I have not the means even if I 112 Life in the Bed Brigade, I I had the will ; hut I would not if I could. I scorn hribery. If you will not aid me for the sake of a poor, helpless, infatuated girl, who is on the brink of nun " Missis Dashwood," said the Bloater, with a look of serio-comic dignity, " I scorns bribery as much as you does. 'No bribery, no o'rupt'ons, no Popery,' them's my mottoes — besides a few more that there's no occasion to mention. Wether or not I gives 'im up depends on circumstances. Now, I s'pose you want's *im took an* bagged, 'cause 'e ain't fit for your friend Martha Reading — we'll drop the " Miss " if you please. Well, wot I want to know is, does Martha think as you does P '* "Of course not, boy. No doubt she knows that he is an unworthy scoundrel, but she can't prevail on herself to forsake him ; so, you see, I want to help her a little." "Ah, I see — yes — I see. Well, missis, I'll take it into consideration. Come along, Jim." Without waiting for a reply, the Bloater quitted the house abruptly, followed by his friend. He walked very fast towards the City — so fast that Jim was compelled to trot — and was unusually silent. He went straight to the abode of Martha Beading, and found her sewing and weeping. lAfB in the Red Brigade, 113 "Ha ! Vs bin with you, I see," said the Bloater. " Did 'e ask you to let 'im 'ide 'ere ? *' "Ye— ea;" said Martha, hesitating; "but I refused to do it. God knows how willing— Ao«, willing— I would be to shelter and save him if I could I" "Would you shelter a guilty manf" demanded the Bloater, sternly. "I don't know that he « guilty," said Martha, evasively. " But, tell me, what did Mrs. Dashwood want with youP" "That's a private matter," said the Bloater, frowning. « You can't turn me off the scent Hke that. I ask you, ain't it right to 'and a guilty man over t J justice P " "It is," replied Martha, wiping her eyes, "but it is also right to temper justice with mercy." "I say, that's drawin' it rather fine, ain't itP" said the Bloater, screwing up one eyebrow and turn- ing towards Little Jim ; but that smaU youth was so touched with the poor girl's sorrow and so attracted by her countenance, that he had quite forgotten his patron for the moment. Going towards her, he laid his dirty Uttle hand on her knee, and looked up in her face. " God bless you, dear boy," she said, patting him 114 L\fe in the Red Brigade, I l! J.' m jit: on the head, ** you are the first that has given me a look of sympathy for many " She hroke down suddenly, burst into a flood of tears, and, seizing the child in her arms, absolutely hugged him! •* Hallo ! hallo ! " cried the Bloater, when little 1 im was released. " I say, you know, come, this sort o* thing will never do. Wy, its houtrageous. Come along with you.** Saying which he seized Little Jim by the collar, dragged him out into the street, and hurried him along. Presently he released him, but without slackening his pace, and said, " Now, Jim, you an' I shall go and pay another wisit.'' They traversed several small streets, which seemed to be influenced by a tendency to gravitate towards the Thames ; whflo the riyer, as if in sympathy, appeared to meet them more than half way in the shape of mud. As they proceeded, huge warehouses frowned above, having doors high up on their blank faces where windows ought to have been, with no steps leading thereto, but in some cases with huge block- tackles pendent therefrom, suggestive of the idea that the owners were wont to drop the enormous hooks and fish for passers-by. These streets naturally became more nautical in some respects as they neared H fl lAfe in ihe Red Brigade. "5 the river. Old bits of timber lay here and there among old cordage in little yards, where the owners appeared to deal in small-coal and miscellaneous filth. Elsewhere, worn-out anchors held tenaciously to the mud, as if afraid of being again pressed into service and carried off to sea. Everything was cold, dismal, dreary, disreputable ; and here in the dirtiest #omer of the smallest possible yard, the Bloater found a half-concealed door that might have been the portal to a dog-kennel or pig-sty. Opening it he entered, and Little Jim followed. The aspect of things inside was not attractive. Dirt, damp, and rubbish prevailed in the room, which was just big enough to permit of a tall man lying down, but not high enough to admit of his standing up. An uncommonly small four-post bed almost filled the apartment, at the foot of which, on the floor and half-reclining against one of the posts, lay Phil Sparks, either dead-drunk or asleep, or both. The Bloater glanced back at Little Jim with a look of satisfaction, and held up his finger to enjoin silence. Peering round the room, which was lighted by a farthing candle stuck in the neck of a pint bottle, he observed a piece of rope lying among some rubbish. " Ha I this'll do," he whispered, as he took it up, and, with wonderful rapidity, made a loop on it Ii6 I lAfe in the Red Brigade, ,j'i> 1;. m ' "Now, Jim, you be ready to cut and run if he should waken before I *ave 'im fast. Don't mind me ; I'll look arter myself. An' wotever you do, don*t holler far the bobbies. Mind that, else I'll strangle you." With this advice and caution, the Bloater advanced towards the recumbent man, and passed the rope softly round his body, including his arms and the bed- post in the coil. Drawing it suddenly tight, he hastily made it fast ; but there was no occasion for haste, for the sleep of the man was so profound that the action did not awake him. " Ilall right — fus' rate," said the Bloater aloud, as he wound the rope round and round Sparks, so as to make him doubly secure. " Nothin' could be better. Now, Jim, I'm goin* for to preach a sermon to-night — a sort o' discoorse. You never heard me preach, did you P " Little Jim, who, despite his love of mischief, was somewhat alarmed at the strange proceedings of his friend and patron, looked at him with a mingled expression of fear and glee, and shook his head. " Well, you shall 'ear. Moreover, I 'ope that you'll profit by wot you 'ears." Saying this, he advanced his hand towards the sleeping man's face^ and, causing his thumb to act as LifB in tht Red Brigade. 1,7 a tn.-ep to his middle finger, gave him such a flip on the poiut of his nose, that he awoke with a tremen- dous roar. Suddenly he became pale as death-sup- posing no doubt, that he had betrayed himself-and glanced towards the door with a bewildered stare "Oh, you needn't alarm yom-self," said the Bloater placing a stool in front of his victim, and sittmg down thereon, with a hand on each knee « it am't the bobbies. If you keep quiet, there's no' fear of them m this neighbourhood. I can call 'em w'en I wants 'em. There's nobody but me and Httle Jim 'ere —your friends, you know," Becoming suddenly convinced of the truth of this Phil Sparks, who was very drunk, made so desperate an effort to free himself that he nearly overturned ihe bed. "Oh, you are anxious to see the bobbies, are you f Wellf go an' call 'em in, Jim." Jim rose to obey, and the man became instantly quiet. ^ "Hoi you're reasonable now, are you? That's well. You need'nt call 'em in yet, Jim. We'll grant im a reprieve. Fetch that stool, an' sit down beside ne-there. Now, Mr. Sparks, alias Blazes, no doubt m re a precious specimen of hinnocent 'unmanitv am'tyouP" ^* nS lAft (n the Red Brigade. M ■ f : m Sparks made no reply, but scowled at the boy with a look of deadly hatred. " Well, upon my word," resumed the Bloater, with a smile, "if I kep* a menagerie, I'd offer you five 'undred a year to represent a Tasmanian devil. But look 'ere, now, I've no time to waste with you; I come 'ere to give you a bit of my mind. You're a fire- raiser, you are. Ah I you may well wince an* grow w'ite. You'd grow w'iter still, with a rope round your neck, if you wos left to my tender mercies, you w'ite livered villain I for I knows you ; I've watched you ; I've found you hout ; an' I've only got to 'old up my little finger to cut your pretty little career pre- matoorly short. You don't seem to like that ? No, I didn't expect you would. This young man, whose 'art is big, if 'is body's small, knows as much about you as I do. Two witnesses, you see ; but you ainU left to our tender mercies ; and if you wants to know who delivered you from us, and from the maginstrates, and Jack Ketch, alias Calcraft, I replies, Martha Heading. Hal you look surprised. Quite nat'ral. You've deserved very different treatment from that young 'ooman, an' didn't expect that she'd return good for evil, I s'pose. That's because you don't know *er; you don't understand 'er, you miserable lump of selfish stoopidity. 'Ows'ever, as I said ■&> *> iht Rtd Brigad,. „^ before, I afn't ..goin' to waste no more tim« w,-,fc y- But let me. before biddb' you I" Xr. caution. Remember, that /'« 1^ «„ „ ^ Just one word more W'L „ *^t 7 ■*• "^ »"^ «,- 1. i, " *" y°n t!"nks of »m finn'* ^ nk of one as 'as got any tende, mercies, t7lZ\ go none , not a ,orap of 'em. nor nothin' ;f Le rrt Wen you w^te to W the true cause of yotS" sttrnttS..°:.ttT;?7"r'"^-i^ thunder u, your brain, and bum in your 'art «l, it consooms your witab or yourwillany^ Now Jl concluded the Bloater r^in, .JT • ' ' clasp-knife, "you wto 1 ^ """"""^ * •"■«« .tan' by to' JCJ l^'-^^Xn ^'^l ?' trusted Wen fi^. Are you^T' "°"° "^ " HaU ready," replied Jim. and'^dirtrthe ret tf ""t ™ ^^"'^ dis^tangle himself :r.coSitarre^:;: from pursmt, quietly wending their way thi! t !f crowded thoreughfares of the greJcir^ T i H Cn AFTER VTII. I '■ III U Several months passed away. During tWs ppHod Phil Sparks kept in close hiding, because, although the Bloater, true to his promise, refrained from giving information against him, there were others who knew and suspected him, and who had no risions of an imploring Martha to restrain them in their efforts to deliver him into the hands of justice. During this period, also, Ned Crashington recorered his wonted health and vigour, while his wife, to some extent, recovered her senses, and, instead of acting as an irritant blister on her husband, began really to aim at unanimity. The result was, that Ned's love for her, which had only been smothered a little, burst forth with renewed energy, and Maggie found that in peace there is prosperity. It is not to be supposed that Muggie was cured all at once. She was not an angel —only an energetic and self-willed woman. She therefore broke out now and then in her old style ; but, on the whole, she was much improved, and the > Lift in the Bed Bngade, iji stalwart fireman no longer sought martyrdom in the flames. During this period, too, the men of the Rod Bngade held ou the even tenor of their furious fiery way ; not, indeed, scatheless, but with a much smaUer amount of damage to life and limb than might have been expected in a service where the numerical strength was so low— only about 380 men-and wliere the duty, night and day, was so severe and hazardous. About this time, their Chief's "Report" for the past year was issued, and it revealed a few facts which are worthy of record. It stated that there had been altogether 1946 fires in London during the past twelve months ; that is, an average of a little more than five fires every twenty-four hours. Of these 1670 had been sliglit, while 276 were serious. In these fires 186 persons had been seriously endangered, of whom 15a were rescued by the men of the Red Brigade, while 33 peri.shed, despite the most gallant ofi'orts to save them. The Report showed, further, that there were in London at that time (and it is much the same still) 50 fire-engine stations, 25 land steam fire-engines, d,b manual fire-engines, 2 floating steam fire-engiucs on the Thames, and 104 fire- escapes. The number of journeys made by the fire- 123 Life in (he Red Brigade. il m s engines during the year was 8127, and the total distance run was 21,914 milos. This, the reader will ohserve, implies an enormous amount of labour per- formed by the 380 heroes who constitute the Red Brigade, and who, although thus heavily overtaxed, were never heard to murmur or complain. That they suffered pretty frequently and severely might have been expected. In truth, it is a marvel that they did not suffer more. The Report showed that, among them all in the course of the year, they had received 36 contusions, dislocations, fractures, and such like injuries ; 22 incised, lacerated, and punctured wounds; 18 injuries to eyes, head, and arms; 2 internal in- juries ; 22 sprains, and, strange to say, only 4 burns and scalds, making 104 injuries altogether, but no deaths. Things being in this condition, the brigade lay on its oars, so to speak, awaiting "a call," one bleak evening in November, when eveiything in London looked so wet, and cold, and wretched, that some people went the length of saying that a good rousing fire would be quite a cheering sight for the eyes to rest upon. In the West End station, to which we have directed attention more than once in this tale, Joe Dashwood, and Ned Orashington, and Bob Olazie, with his L\f9 in the Red Brigade. 123 brother David, and some more of the men, were seated in the inner lobby, discussing the news of the day, and settling the affairs of the nation to their own entire satisfaction. The Bloater and little Jim were also there, hanging about the door. These fire-eating youths had become so fond of the locality and of the men, that they had taken to sweeping a crossing in the neighbourhood, and were wont to cheer their spirits, during intervals of labour, by listening to, or chaffing, the firemen, and following them, when pos- sible, to fires. Suddenly the rattle of the telegraphic bell roused the men. This was so common an occurrence, that it scarcely called forth a passing remark. One of them, however, rose with alacrity, and, replying to the signal, read off the message. We cannot give the precise words of the telegram, but it was to the effect that a fire had broken out at St. Katharine's Docks, and that all available force was to be sent out at once. On hearing this there was unusual promptitude in the movements of the firemen. At all times they are bound, on pain of a hea>'y fine, to turn out in three minutes after receiving the call to a fire. Sometimes they succeed in turning out in less. It was so on the present occasion. Mention of a fire anywhere near the docks has much the same effect on the Red 134 lAfe in the Red Brigade, Brigade as the order to marcli to the field of Waterloo had on the British army. The extreme danger ; the inflammahle nature of the goods contained in the huge and densely-packed warehouses ; the proximity to the shipping ; the probability of a pitched battle with the flames ; the awful loss of property, and perhaps of life, if the fire should gain the mastery, and the urgent need there is for hurrying all the disposable force in London to the spot without delay, if the victory is to be gained — all those circumstances and coQsiderations act as an unusually sharp spur to men, who, however, being already willing at all times to do their utmost, can only force themselves to gain a few additional moment" of time by their most strenuous exertions. In less than *.hree minutes, then, our West End engine sprang off", like a rocket, at full gallop, with a crack of the whip, a snort from the steeds, a shout from the men to clear the way, and a cheer from the bystanders. Two of these bystanders started off alongside of the engine, with glittering eyes and flushed cheeks. The Bloater and Little Jim had heard the telegraph read off, had caught the words, "Fire — St. Katharine's Docks," and knew well what that imphed. They resolved to witness the fight, and ran as if their Uvea depended on the race. It need scarcely be said that L^$ in the Red Brigade. 125 the engine quickly left them out of sight behind, not only because the horses were fleet, but also because various pedestrians, into whose bosoms the boys plunged in their blind haste, treated them rather roughly, and retarded their progress a good deal. But nothing short of a knock-down blow could have put a full stop to the career of those imps of the broom. After innumerable hair-breadth escapes from " bobbies " and others, by ugilo bounds and desperate plunges among horses' legs and carriage-wheels, they reached the scene of action not very long after the engine with which they had set out. It was night. The fire had been raging for some time with terrible fury, and had already got full possession of two large warehouses, each five or six floors in height, all connected by means of double iron folding-doors, and stored from basement to roof with spirits, tallow, palm-oil, cotton, flax, jute, and other merchandise, to the extent of upwards of two millions sterling in value. The dock fire-engines had been brought to bear on the flames a few minutes after the fira was discovered. The two floating-engines were paddled at once to the spot, and their powerful hydrants poured continuous streams on the flames ; while, every few minutes, another and another of the laud-engines came rattling up, until all Uie available H i 11 i ill ■ 4--T 126 Life in the Bed Brigade. force of the Bed Brigade was on the spot, each man straining, like the hero of a forlorn hope, regardless of life and limb, to conquer tbe terrible foe. The Brompton and OheLsea Tolunteer fire-brigade, and several private engines, also came up to lend a helping hand. But ail these engines, brave hearts, and vigorous proceedings, appeared at first of no avail, for the greedy flames shot out their tongues, hissed through water and steam, and Ucked up the rich fuel with a deep continuous roar, as if they gloated over their unusually splendid banquet, and meant to enjoy it to the full, despite man's utmost efforts to oppose them. The excitement at this time was tremendous. Every available spot of ground or building from which the most limited view of the fire could be obtained was crowded to excess by hum5,n beings, whose upturned faces were lighted more or less ruddily according to their distance &om the fire. No doubt the greater proportion of the vast multi- tude beheld the waste of so much property with anxiety and regret. Doubtless, also, many thoughtless ones were there who merely enjoyed the excitement, and looked upon it as a pyrotechnic display )f un- wonted splendour. But there was yet another class of men, aye, and women, whose view of the matter was fitted to cause anxiety in the breasts of those who 1 Life in the Bed Brigade, 127 talk of "elevating the masses," and this was by far the largest class. The greater part of them belonged to the lowest class of labourers, men willing to work for their Hving, but who got Httle to do. Amongst these not one expression of regret was to be heard, though the women sometimes askod anxiously whether any one was likely to be hurt. But let a few of these speak for themselves. "Ah," said an old woman, with an unintellectual style of countenance, " now there wiU be plenty of work for poor men." " Yes," responded a rough, with a black eye, " that's true. 'My blissin,' as Paddy says, on a fire; it warms the cockles o' yer heart an' kapes yer hands busy." " They've much need to be kep' busy, sure enough," remarked another man, " for mine have been pretty idle for i^^ore than a week." "I wish,' exclaimed another, with a bitter curse on mankind ul general, " that the whole Thames would go a-fire, from Westminster to Gravesend." The energy with which this was said caused a general laugh and a good deal of chaff, but there was no humour in the man who spoke. He was one of those of whom it is said by a periodical which ought to know, that hundreds of such may be seen day by day, ia8 Itft in the Red Brigade. >i ; year by year, waiting at the diflferent gates of the docks, in stolid weariness, for the chance of a day's work — the wage of which is half-a-crown. When a foreman comes to a gate to take on a few such hands, the press of men, and the faces, hungry and eager beyond description, make one of the saddest of the sad sights to be seen even at the east end of London. In another part of the crowd, where the street was narrow, a scene of a most fearful kind was being enacted. All scoundreldom appeared to have collected in that spot. For two or three hours robbery and violence reigned unchecked in the very face of the police, who, reduced to inaction by the density of the crowd, could render little or no assistance to the sufferers. Scarcely one respectably dressed person was unmolested. Hats were indiscriminately smashed over the brows of their wearers, coats were torn off their backs, and watches and purses violently wrested from their owners. In many cases there was no attempt at secrecy, men were knocked down and plundered with all the coolness and deliberation with which we commonly pursue our lawful calling. By degrees the perseverance and heroism of the firemen were rewarded. The fire began to succumb to the copious floods with which it was deluged, and, towards midnight, there was a perceptible diminution Life in the Bed Brigade. 129 in the violence of the flames. There were, however, several temporary outbursts from time to time, which called for the utmost watchfulness and promptitude on the part of the Brigade. During one of these a block of private dwellmgs nearest to the conflagration was set on fire. So intent was every one on the great tire that this incidental one was not observed until it had gained considerable headway. The buildings were very old and dry, so that before an engine could be detached from the warehouses it was in a complete blaze. Most of the inhabitants escaped by the chief staircase before it became impassable, and one or two leaped from the lower windows. It chanced that Joe Dash wood's engine was nearest to this house at the time, and was run up to it. " Now then, lads, look alive," said Joe, as the men aflBxed the hose and suction-pipe. " Out 0' the way ! " cried Ned Crashington to two boys who appeared to be rather curious about the operations of the firemen. " I say," exclaimed the Bloater in great excitement, " why — that's the 'ouse w'ere Martha lives I " "Who's Martha P" asked Ned, without interrupt- ing his operation of screwing on an additional length of koi^. f 130 Lifs in th« Red Brigade, W \\ " W*y, the friend 0* Joe Dashwood'e wife — Martha —Martha Reading, you know.*' " Eh I ** exclaimed Ned, looking up. At that moment Martha herself appeared at a window in the upper story, waving her arms and shrieking wildly for help. Men were seen endeavour- ing to bring forward a fire-escape, but the crowd was BO dense as to render this an unusually difficult and slow operation. Without uttering a word, Ned Crashington dashed up the blazing staircase. For a moment he was lost to view, but quickly reappeared, attempting to cross a half-charred beam which overhung a yawning gulf of fire where the first and second floors had just fallen in. Suddenly a dense mass of smoke surrounded him. He staggered, threw up his arms, and was seen to fall headlong into the flames. A deep groan, or cry of horror, arose from the crowd, and wild shouts of " fetch a ladder," " bring up the escape," were heard, while poor Martha got out on the window-sill to avoid the flames, which were rapidly drawing towards and almost scorching her. Just then a man was seen to dash furiously through the crown, he fought his way madly — knockirig down all who opposed him. Gaining the door of the burn- ing house he sprang in. I lAfB in the Red Brigade, 131 ** I say," whispered little Jim, in an excited voice, "it's Phil Sparks 1" "I'm glad to hear it," ohserved a quiet, hroad- shouldered man, who stood near two policemen, to whom he winked knowingly. The Bloater attempted to move off, hut one of the policemen detained him. The other detained little Jim. Meanwhile the crowd looked for Phil's reappearance on the beam from which poor Ned Crashington had fallen, but Phil knew the house better than Ned. He gained the upper floor by a back stair, which was not quite impassable ; seized Martha in his arms, just as she was about to leap into the street, and dragged her back into the smoke and flames. It appeared almost certain that both must have perished ; but in a few seconds the man was seen to descend the lower stair with the woman in his arms, and in another moment a wild enthusiastic cheer burst from the vast multitude as he leaped into the street. Laying Martha gently down on a doorstep, Sparks bent over her, and whispered in her ear. She ap- peared to have swooned, but opened her eyes, and gazed earnestly in the face of her deliverer. "The Lord must have sent you to save me, Phil; He will save pou also, if you will trust Him." h.i s' ■ j -5 ■ if 1 : - ' 1 T f 1 ! L r 13a Lffb in the Red Brigade, ** Forgive me, Martha, I was hard on you, but- » " God bless you, Phil- it " Clear the way there," cried a commanding voice ; ** here, doctor, this way." The crowd opened. A medical man came forward and examined Martha, and pronounced her to he only slightly injured. Several men then raised her and carried her towards a neighbouring house. Phil Sparks was about to follow, but the quiet man with the broad shoulders touched him gently on the arm, and said that he was " wanted." "Sorry to interrupt you in such a good work, but it can't be helped. Other people can take care of her now, you know; come along." Sparks' first impulse was to knock the quiet man down and fly, but he felt a restraining power on hia other arm, and, looking round, observed a tall police- man at his side. As if by magic, another tall police- man appeared in front of him, and a third behind him. He suddenly bent down his head and suffered himself to be led away. Seeing this, the Bloater and little Jim wrenched themselves from the grasp of their respec- tive captors, dived between the legs of the bystanders, as eels might do among sedges, and vanished, to their own inexpressible delight and the total discomfiture of lAfB in the Bed Brigade. 133 the "bobbies." They met a few minutes later at a well-known rendezvous. " I wish 'e 'adn't bin took,** said the Bloater with a look of regret on his expressive though dirty counte- nance. " Poor Martha I " said little Jim, almost crying as he thought of her. " 'Ow much d' you think 'e'll get, Bloater P " " Twenty years at least ; p'r'aps go for life ; you see ifs an aggrawated case. I've bin makin' partikler in- quiries, and I finds *e*s bin raisin' no end 0' fires doorin' the last six months — kep' the Red Brigade trottin' about quite in a surprisin' way. I rather fear that 'e'll be let in for ever an' a day." The Bloater was not quite correct in his guess. When the trial came on, to the surprise of all, espe- cially of his ** pals," Phil Sparks pleaded guilty f Partly in consideration of this, and partly on account of his last courageous act in saving the girl, he was let off with fifteen years penal servitude. But, to return from this episode. The great fire at the docks, after gutting several warehouses, was finally subdued. And what of the loss P A hundred thou- sand pounds did not cover it, and every insurance office in London suffered I In addition to this, several persons lost their lives, while the Red Brigade, besides 134 Ifife in the Bed Brigade, I ¥ :V i having some of their number more or less severely in* jured, lost one of its best and bravest men. Gallant Ned Crashington's fighting days were over. His mangled remains were gathered up next morning, and, a few days later, were conveyed by his comrades to their last resting-place. It is no easy matter to move the heart of London. That vast nation-in-a-city has too many diverse in- terests to permit of the eyes of all being turned, even for a moment, upon one thing. Nevertheless the fire- man's funeral seemed to cause the great cord to vibrate for a little. Hundreds of thousands of people turned out to witness the cortege. Ned's coffin was drawn, military fashion, on one of the engines peculiar to his profession, with his helmet and hatchet placed upon the lid. The whole of the force of the brigade that could be spared followed him in uniform, headed by their chief, and accompanied by a large detachment of the police force. The procession was imposing, and the notices that appeared next day in all the papers were a touching tribute of respect to the self-sacri- ficing fireman, who, as one of these papers said, " left a widow and son, in poor circumstances, to mourn his early death." Ah, these things were soon forgotten in *\e rush of the world's business by all save that widow and son. I^ttnthe Sed Brigad,. ,,5 ^onec. two boeom friend,. Even the men rf th. Bed Bngade appeared to fo,^t the fallen hero venr 11 I: ""K ""P^"^'" '^-o "-ere were somT among them who mourned Ned a, a dear brother chief among whom wa, Joe Dashwood. But whaT- everthefeelings of the Wen might have ber^,;eS, w« a warfare that aUowed no time for the uniue il du^ence or exhibition of grief The regular "c" 11^' 2" ''"^^» r ' - "teadily, sternly, aa tfno hing ad o^urred and before Ned's remains had lain a niS m their last resting-place, many of his old m' K CHAPTER IX. i! Year* passed away, and with them many old thingt vanished, while many novelties appeared, but the lied Brigade remained much as it was, excepting that it was, if possihle, smarter and more energetic than ever. In the lobby of our West-end station one pleasar^ summer evening, the men sat and stood about 1 open door beside the trim engines and materiel Oi their profession, chatting heartily as men are won't to do when in high health and spirits. There were new faces among them, but there were also several that had long been familiar there. The stalwart form of Joe Dashwood was there, so little altered by time that there was nothing about him to tell that he was passing the period of middle-age, save a few gray hairs that mingled here and there with the dark curls on his temples. Bob Clazie was there also, but he had not stood the trials of his profession so well as Joe — probably his constitution was not so strong. A disagreeable short cough harassed him, though he TAffi in th^ Rfd Priqnif^, 137 it was, easar* it 1 net 0* won't were iveral ilwart edby at he gray dark 10, but lo well itrong. igh he made light of it. Frequent scorching, smoking, and partial suffocation had increased his wrinkles and rendered his eyelids permanently red. Nevertheless, although nearly fifty years old, Bob Clasde was still one of the best men in the Brigade. Joe Dashwood wore a pair of brass epaulettes on his shoulders, which indicated that he had attained to the highest rank in the service, short of the chief command. lie was giving directions to one of the younger men of the force, when a tall strapping young man, with a plain but open and singularly pleasing countenance entered, and going up to him shook him warmly by the hand. "Well, Bob, what's ^'e news? you seem excited this evening." said Joe. " So I am, Joe ; and with good reason too„ for several pleasant things have happened • to-day. In the fir«' place, my friend and patron " " That's the old gentleman with the ruddy face and the bald head P " interrupted Joe. " Yes, and with the kind heart. Don't ever omit the kind heart, Joe, in your description of him, else you'll only have painted half the portrait.*' " Well, but the kind heart ain't quite so visible at first sight as the ruddy face and bald head, you know." H m ! I 1:^ i itt "^1 ill- 'if 1 E :f 138 Life in the Red Brigade, "Perhaps not; but if yon watched him long enough to see him actf you'd perceive the kind heart as plain as if it hung at his button-hole, and beat like a sixty-hoTse-power steam-engine outside his ribs instead of inside," said the strapping young man with quite a glow of enthusiasm. " Oh, if you could only see how that old gentleman labours, and strives, and wears himself out, in his desire to rescue what they call our Street Arabs, you could'nt help loving him as I do. But Fm wandering from the pleasant things I've got to tell about. Through his influence my friend Jim has obtained a good appointment on the Metropolitan Railway, which gives him a much better salary than he had in Skrimp'a ofl&ce, and opens up a prospect of promotion ; so, although it sends him underground before his natural time, he says he is quite content to be buried alive, especially as it makes the prospect of his union with a very small and exceedingly charming little girl with black eyes not quite so remote as it waa. In the second place, you'll be glad to hear that the directors of the insurance office with which I am con- nected have raised my salary, influenced thereto by the same old gentleman with the ruddy faoe, bald bead, and kind heart " "Coupled with your own merits, Bob," su3ge8ted Joe. Life in the Red Brigade, 139 Joe. " I know nothing about thai," replied the strapping young man with a smile, " but these pleasant pieces of good fortune have enabled me and Jim to carry out a plan which we have long cl erished — to lodge together, with Martha Reading as our landlady. In truth, anticipating some such good fortune ls has been sent to us, we had some time ago devoted part of our savings to the purpose of rescuing poor Martha from that miserable needlework which has been slowly killing her so long. We have taken and fur- nished a small house, Martha is already Installed as the owner, and we go th^re to-night for the first time, as lodgers." " You don't say so 1 " exclaimed Joe, laughing ; " why. Bob, you and your friend act with as much promptitude as if you had been regularly trained in the Fire Brigade.'' We received much of our training from it, if not in it," returned the strapping young man with the plain but pleasant countenance. "Don't you remember, Joe, how perseveringly we followed you in former days when / was the Bloater and he was UtUeJimP" " Remembc : it I I should think I do," replied Joe. ** How glad my Mary will be when she hears what you have done." 140 lAfe in the Bed Brigade, "But that's not all my news/' continued the Bloater (if we may presume to use the old name). " Last, hut not least, Fred has asked me to he his groom's-man. He wrote me a very pathetic letter ahout it, hut omitted to mention the day — not to he wondered at in the circumstances. Poor Fred, his letter reminded me of the hlotted copies which I used to write with such trouhle and sorrow at the training school to which my patron sent me." " There's reason for the blotted letter hesides the excitement of his approaching marriage," said Joe. " He hurt his hand the last fire he attended, and its in a sling just now, so he must have taken it out, for temporary duty when he wrote to you. The truth in that Fred is too reckless for a fireman. He's scarcely cool enough. But I can inform you as to the day ; it is Thursday next. See that you are up to time. Bob." " No fear of me being late," replied the Bloater. By the way, have you heard of that new method of putting out fires that somebody has invented P " " I did hear of some nonsensical plan," replied Joe, with a slight expression of contempt, "but I don't think it worth while to pay attention to things o' this sort. There's nothin' can beat good cold water." ** I'm not so sure of that, Joe," replied his friend gravely. " I have been rcudiug an account of it in IAf$ in the Bed Brigade. 141 i m the Inmrance Guardian^ and it seems tome that there is something worth attending to in the new phin. It looks (^9 if there was life in it, for a company is to be got up called the * Fire and Water Company.' " " But what « this new plan P " asked Joe, sending forth a violent pu£f from his pipe, as if to indicate that it would all end in smoke. " Well, I'm not sure that I're got a correct notion of it myself, hut my impression is that carbonic acid gas is the foundation-principle of it. Fire cannot exist in the presence of this gas — whererer it goes extinction of fire is instantaneous, which is more than you can say for water, Joe ; for as you know well, fire, when strong enough, can turn that into steam as fast as you can pour it on, and after getting rid of it in this way, blaze up as furious as erer. What this company proposes to do is to saturate water with this carbonic acid gas mixed with nitrogen, and then pour that prepared water on fires. Of course, if much water were required, such a plan would never succeed, but a very small quantity is said to be sufficient. It seems that some testing experiments of a very satisfactory kind have been made recently — so you see, Joe, it is time to be look- ing out for a new profession I " '* H'm. I'll slick to the old brigade, at all events i 142 Life in the Med Brigade, '! ! till fhe new oompany beats us from the field. Perhaps when that happens they'll enrol some of us to work the — what d'ye call 'era? — soda-water engines. They'll have engines of course, I suppose P " " Of course," replied the Bloater ; " moreover, they mean to turn their prepared water to good account when there are no fires to put out. It is said that the proportions of the mixture can be so varied that, with one kind, the pump may be used for the clarification of beer, oils, treacle, quicksilver, and such like, and for the preservation of fruit, meat, milk, etc., and with another mixture they propose to ventilate mines, and tunnels ; water gardens ; kill insects on trees and flowers ; soften water for domestic uses, and breweries, and manufacture soda-water, selt- zer water, and other aerated beverages " " Oh, I say, Bob, hold on,'* cried Joe ; " you seem to forget that my capacity for swallowing is limited." "Well, perhaps you'll get it enlarged enough before long, to swallow all that and a deal more," said the Bloater, with a half serious air. " Mean- while 1'U continue to wish all success and prosperity to the Red Brigade — though you do cause a tremen- dous amount of damage by your floods of water, as we poor insurance companies know. Why, if it were lAfi in the Red Brigade, 143 not for the heroes of the salvage corps we should he ruined altogether. It's my opinion, Joe, that the men of the salvage corps run quite as much risk as your fellows do in going through fire and smoke and working among falling beams and tumbling walls in order to cover goods with their tarpaulings and protect them from water." " I admit that the salvage men do their work like heroes,*- said Joe ; *' but if you would read our chiefs report for last year, you would see that we do our best to put out fires with the smallest possible amount of water. Why, we only used about eleven million gallons in the last twelve months — a most in- significant quantity that, for the amoimt of work done ! " A tinkle of the telegraph bell here cut short the conversation. " Fire, in the Mall, Kensington," was the signal. " Get her out, lads 1 " cried Joe, referring to tiie engine. Helmets and hatchets were donned and buckled on in the old style, and quiet jokes or humorous and free-and-easy remarks were uttered in slow, even sleepy tones, while the men acted with a degree of prompt celerity that could not have been excelled had their own lives depended on their speed. In i^ ^■1' ' ^ I! i li I f rf!? lii i| iff I if- '44 Life in the Red Brigade* three minutes, as usual, they were off at full gallop. The Bloater — who still longed to follow them as of old, hut had other husiness on hand — wished them " good luck," and proceeded at a smart pace to hi; new lodgings. We must change the scene now, for the men of the Red Brigade do not confine their attentions exclu- sively to such matters as drilling, fighting, suffering, conquering, and dying. They sometimes marry! Let us look in at this little church where, as a passer- by remarks, " something appears to be going on." A tall handsome young man leads to the altar a delicate, beautiful, blooming bride, whose bent head and blushing cheek, and modest mien and dependent air, contrast pleasantly with the gladsome, firm countenance, stalwart frame, and self-reliant aspect of the bridegroom. Looking at them as they stood then, no one could have entertained for a moment the idea that these two had ever united in the desperate and strenuous attempt to put out a fire I Yet so it was. They had, once upon a time, devoted themselves to the extinc- tion of a fire in a cupboard with such enthusiasm that they had been successful not only in putting that fire out, but in lighting another fire, which nothing ihort of union for life could extinguish I lAfe in the Red Brigade, 145 Joe Dashwood gave away the bride, and lie could not help remarking in a whisper to the Bloater (who was also there in sumptuous attire) that if ever a man was the born image of his father that man was Fred Crashington — an opinion which was heartily responded to by Mrs. Maggie Crashington, who, then in the period of life which is described as "fat, fair, and forty," looked on at the proceedings with intense satisfaction. Mary Dashwood — also fat, fair, and forty — was there too, and if ever a woman congra- tulated herself on a rose-bud having grown into a full blown blush-rose, that woman was Mary. Besides a pretty large company of well-dressed people, with white favours in their breasts, there was a sprinkling of activ(! men with sailor-like caps, who hung about the outskirts of the crowd, and among these were two or three stout fellows with brass helmets and dirty hands and faces, and wet gar- ments, who had returned from a recent fire just in time to take a look at their comrade and his fair bride. " Poor Ned, how his kind heart would have rejoicea to see this day ! " murmured Joe, brushing his cheek hastily as he retired from the altar. So, the wedding party left the church, and the fire- men returned to their posts of watchfulneas and duty. m 146 Life in the Red Brigade. » ' ki m 1 ■;t About the same period that this wedding took place, there was another wedding in the great metro- polis to which we would draw the reader's attention. Not that it was a great one or a splendid one ; on the contrary, if it was marked by any unusual peculiarities, these were shabbiness and poverty. The wedding party consisted of only two, besides the bride and bridegroom, and everything was conducted with such quietness, and gravity, and absence of excitement, that it might almost have been mistaken for a funeral on a small scale by any one unacquainted with the cere- monial appertaining thereto. The happy pair, besides looking very sad, were past the meridian of life. Both were plainly dressed, and each appeared desirous of avoiding obser- vation. The man, in particular, hung his head and moved awkwardly, as if begging forgiveness generally for presuming to appear in the character of a bridegroom. His countenance had evidently never been handsome, but there was a sad subdued look about it — ^the result, perhaps, of prolonged suffer- ing — which prevented it from being repulsive. He looked somewhat like an invalid, yet his powerful frame and the action of his strong muscular hands were not in keeping with that idea. The bride, although careworn and middle-aged. Life in the Red Brigade, 147 possessed a smgularly sweet and attractive counte- nance — all the more attractive that it wore a habitual expression of sadness. It was a sympathetic face, too, because it was the index to a loving, sympathetic, Christian soul, and its ever-varying indications cf feeling, lightened and subdued and modified, but never quite removed, the sadness. The two who composed the remainder of this wedding party were young men, appeiently in a higher position of life than the principals. The one was tall and strapping, the other rather small, but remarkably active and handsome. It was evident that they were deeply interested in the ceremony in which they took part, and the smaller of the two appeared to enjoy some humorous reminiscences occasionally, to judge from the expression of bis face when his glance chanced to meet that of his tall friend. As they were leaving the altar, the bridegroom bent down and murmured in a deep soft voice — "Ifs like a dream, Martha It ain't easy to believe that such good luck should come to the likes 0* me." The bride whispered something in reply, which was inaudible to those who followed. "Yes, Martha, yes," returned the bridegroom; T ifi if" h Oil' 148 Life in the Bed Brigade. *' no doubt it is as you put it. But after all,' there's only one of His sayin's thut has gone right home to me. I've got it by heart now — * I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.' 'Twould have bin all up with me long ago but for that, Martha." They reached the door at this point, got into a cab, and drove away. The remainder of the wedding party left the little church on foot. The same evening on which this event took place, the strapping young man and the little active youth sat together at the open window of a comfortable though small parlour, enjoying a cup of tea. The view from the window was limited, but it possessed the charm of variety ; commanding as it did, a vista of chimney-pots of every shape and form conceivable — many of which were capped with those multiform and hideous contrivances with which foolish man vainly endeavours to cure smoke. "Well, Jim," asked the strapping youth, as he gazed pensively on this prospect, " what d'you think ofitP" "What do you refer to, Bob — our view or the wedding P " " The wedding, of course." "It's hard to say," replied Jim, musmg. "He Life in the Bed Brigade. 149 seemed to be such an unmitigated scoundrel when we first made his acquaintance that it is diihcult to believe he is a charged man now.'* "By which you mean to insinuate, Jim, that the Gospel is not sufficient for out-and-out blackguards ; that it is only powerful enough to deal Mrith such modified scoundrels as you and I were." " By no means," replied Jim, with a peculiar smile ; " but, d'you know, Bloater, I never can feel that we were such desperate villains as you make ua out to have been, when we swept the streets together." " Just listen to him I " exclaimed the Bloattr, smiting his knee with his fist, " you can't /,\. ,■1 -» i FORT DESOLATION OB, SOLITUDE IN THE WILDERNESS. I ; i ti ijl lill T - FORT DESOLATION; OR, SOLITUDE IN THE WILDERNESS. CHAPTER L IriE 0UT8KIRTER. To some minds solitude is depressing, to others it is congenial. It was the former to our friend John Robinson ; yet he had a large share of it in his chequered life. John— more familiarly known aa Jack—was as romantic as his name was the reverse. To look at him you would have supposed that he was the most ordinary of common-place men, but if you had knowTi him, as we did, you would have discovered that there was a deep, silent, but ever- flowing river of enthusiasm, energy, fervour— in a word, romance— in his soul, which seldom or never manifested itself in words, and only now and then, on rare occasions, flashed out in a lightning glance' or blazed up in a fiery countenance. For the most part f p if 'rel 156 Fort DesoUition; oTt f'-t li If hi i 4 111' ^ 1 ^h i Jack was calm as a mill-pond, deep as the Atlantic, straightforward and grave as an undertaker's clerk and good-humoured as an unspoilt and healthy child. Jack never made a joke, but, certes, he could enjoy one ; and he had a way of showing his enjoyment by a twinkle in his blue eye and a chuckle in his throat that was peculiarly impressive. Jack was a type of a large class. He was what we may call an outskirter of the world. He was one of those who, from the force of necessity, or of self-will, or of circumstances, are driven to the outer circle of this world to do as Adam and Eve's family did, battle with Nature in her wildest scenes and moods ; to earn his bread, literally, in the sweat of his brow. Jack was a middle-sized man of strong make. He was not sufficiently large to overawe men by his size, neither was he so small as to invite impertinence from "big bullies," of whom there were plenty in his neighbourhood. In short, being an unpretending man and a plain man, with a good nose and large chin and sandy hair, he was not usually taken much notice of by strangers during his joumeyings in the world ; but when vigorous action in cases of emergency was required Jack Kobinsca was the man to make himself conspicuous. It is not our intention to give an aocoont of Jack's BoUtude in the Wtldemem, t57 adventurous life from beginning to end, but to detail the incidents of a sojourn of two months at Fort Deso- lation, in almost utter solitude, in order to show one of the many phases of rough life to which outskirters are frequently subjected. In regard to his early life it may be sufficient to say that Jack, after being bom, created such perpetual disturbance and storm in the house that his worthy father came to look upon him as a perfect pestj and a? soon as possible sent him to a public school, where he fought like a Mameluke Bey, learned his lessons with the zeal of a philosopher, and, at the end of ten years ran away to sea, where he became as sick as a dog and as miserable as a convicted felon. Poor Jack was honest of heart and generous of spirit, but many a long hard year did he spend in the rugged parts of the earth ere he recovered (if he ever did recover) from the evil effects of this first false step. In course of time Jack was landed in Canada, with only a few shillings in his pocket ; from that period he became an outskirter. The romance in his nature pointed to the backwoods ; he went thither at once, and was not disappointed. At first the wild life surpassed his expectations, but as time wore on the tinsel began to wear o£f the face of things, and he came to see them J Hdyi ill' : ) 158 Fort J^ewlation ; or as they actually were, ^eveilheless, the romance of life did not wear out of his constitution. Enthusiasm, quiet but deep, stuck to him all through his career, and carried him on and over difficulties that would have disgusted and turned back many a colder spirit. Jack's first success was the obtaining of a situation as clerk in the store of a general merchant in an out- skirt settlement of Canada. Dire necessity drove him to this. He had been three weeks without money and nearly two days without food before he suc- cumbed. Having given in, however, he worked like a Trojan, and would certainly have advanced himself in life if his employer had not failed and left him, minus a portion of his salary, to " try again." Next, he became an engineer on board one of the Mir ouri steamers, in which capacity he burst his boiler, and blew himself and the passengers into the river — the captain having adopted the truly Yankee expedient of sittin*^ down on the safety-valve while racing with another boat I Afterwards, Jack Robinson became clerk in one of the Ontario steam-boats, but, growing tired of this life, he went up the Ottawa, and became overseer of a saw- mill. Here, being on the frontier of civilization, he saw the roughest of Canadian life. The lumbermen of that district are a mixed race — French- Canadians, Solittide in (he Wtldemest, 159 311 Irishmen, Indians, half-castes, &o. — and whatever good qualities these men might possess in the way of hewing timber and bush-life, they were sadly deficient in the matters of morality and temperance. But Jack was a man of tact and good temper, and played his cards well. He jested with the jocular, sympa- thized with the homesick, doctored the ailing in a rough and ready fashion peculiarly his own, and avoided the quarrelsome. Thus he became a general favourite. Of course it was not to be expected that he could escape an occasional broil, and it was herein that his early education did him good service. He had been trained in an English sckool where he became one of the best boxers. The lumberers on the Ottawa were not practised in this science ; they indulged in that kicking, tearing, pommelling sort of mode which is so repugnant to the feelings of an Englishman. The consequence was that Jack had few fights, but these were invariably with the largest bullies of the district ; and he, in each case, inflicted such tremen- dous facial punishment on his opponent that he became a noted man, against whom few cared to pit themselves. There are none so likely to enjoy peace as those who are prepared for war. Jack used sometimes to 1*1 "I I !! ■I^^ I I: '' i i6o Fbri De»olat%on; or. !l t h! t ■ ^; say, with a smile, that his few battles were the price he had to pay for peace. Our hero was unlucky. The saw-mill failed — its master being a drunkard. When that went down he entered the lumber trade, where he made the ac- quaintance of a young Scotchman, of congenial mind and temperament, who suggested the setting up of a store in a promising locality and proposed entering into partnership. " Murray and Robinson " was forthwith painted by the latter (who was a bit of an iirtist), over the door of a small log-house, and the store soon became well known and much frequented by the sparse population as well as by those engaged in the timber trade. But " the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." There must have been a screw loose somewhere, for bad debts accumulated and losses were incurred which finally brought the firm to the ground, and left its dissevered partners to begin the world over again I After this poor Jack Robinson fell into low spirits for a time, but he soon recovered, and bought a small piece of land at a nominal price in a region so wild that he had to cut his own road to it, fell the trees with his own hand, and, in short, reclaim it from the wilderness on tke margin of which it lay. This fi Solitude in the Wilderness, i6i was hard work, but Jack liked hard work, and whatever work he undertook he always did it well. Strange that such a man could not get on I yet so it was, that, in a couple of years, he found himself little better oflf than he had been when he entered on his new property. The region, too, was not a tempting one. No adven- turous spirits had located themselves beside him, and only a few had come within several miles of his habitation. This did not suit our hero's sociable temperament, and he began to despond very much. Still his sanguine spirit led him to persevere, and there is no saying how long he might have continued to spend his days and his energies in felling trees and sowing among the stumps and hoping for better days, had not his views been changed and his thoughts turned into another channel by a letter. 1 i. I I : 7^ 1 62 Fort DtMlation; or in i i n ■i ] ^ I'UJ ! [. I'M' CHAPTER, n. THE LETTER, AND 118 CONSEQL'ENCES. One fine spring morning Jack was sitting, smoking his pipe after breakfast, at the door of his log cabin, looking pensively out upon the tree-stump-encumbered field which constituted his farm. He had face- tiously named his residence the Mountain House, in consequence of there being neither mountain nor hill larger than an inverted wash-hand basin, within ten miles of him I He was wont to defend the misnomer on the ground that it served to keep him in remembrance of the fact that hills really existed in other parts of the world. Jack was in a desponding mood. His pipe would not " draw " that morning ; and h^'s mind had been more active than usual for a few days past, revolving the past, the present, and the future. In short, Jack was cross. There could be no doubt whatever about it; for he suddenly, and 1 . 'ii Solitude in the Wildemest, 163 without warning, dashed hifl pipe to pieces against a log, went into the house for another, which he cahnly filled, as he resumed his former seat, lit, and continued to smoke for some time in sulky silence. We record this fact hecause it was quite contrary to Jack's amiable and patient character, and showed that some deep emotions were stirring within him. The second pipe *'drew" well. Probably it was this that induced him to give utterance to the expression — "I wonder how long this sort of thing will last P " " Just as long as you've a mind to let it, and nn longer,'* answered a man clad in the garb of a trapper, whose mocassin foot had given no indication of his approach until he was within a couple of paces of the door. *' Is that you, Joe ? " said Jack, looking up, and pointing to a log which served as a seat on the other side of the doorway. " It's all that's of mo," replied Joe. " Sit down and fill your pipe out of my pouch, Joe. It's good 'baccy, you'll find. Any news P I suppose not. There never is ; and if there was, what would be the odds to me P " 1 II i«4 Fort Desolation; or^ r u '"I i tin'' i] u I' ; i " In the blues ? " remarked the hunter, regarding Jack with a peculiar smile through hii first puff of smoke. " Rather I " said Jack. " Grog P " inquired Joe. " Haven't ttwted a drop tor months/' replied Jack. " All square here f " inquired the hunter, tapping his stomach. " Could digest gun-flints and screw nails I " ' The two smoked in silence for some time ; then Joe drew forth a soiled letter, which he handed to his companion, saying — " It's bin lying at the post-ofiBce for some weeks, and as the postmaster know'd I was comin' here he asked me to take it. I've a notion it may be an offer to buy your clearin', for I've heerd two or three fellows speakin* about it. Now, as I want to buy it myself, if yer disposed to sell it, I hereby make you the/r«^ offer." Jack Robinson continued to smoke in silence, gazing abstractedly at the letter. Since his mother had died, a year before the date of which we write, he had not rr3ceived a line from any one, insomuch that he had given up calling at the post-office on his occasional visits to the nearest settlement. This ietter, therefore, took him by surprise; all the more Jl • 1 m V g ^ SoKiud$ m the Wildemeu. 163 that it was addressed in the handwriting of his former partner, Murray. Breaking the seal, he read as follows :— "Fort Kamenibtaqitoia, Aprtt " Dear Jack, — You'll be surprised to see my fist, but not more surprised than I was to hear from an old hunter just arrived, that you had taken to farming. It's not your forte, Jack, my boy. Be advise !. Sell off the farm for what it will fetch, and Come and join me. My antecedents are not in my favour, I grant ; but facts are stubborn things, and it is a fact that I am making dollars here like stones, I'm a fur-trader, my boy. Have joined a small company, and up to this time have made a good thing of it. You know something of the fiir trade, if I mistake not. Do come and join us ; we want such a man as you at a new post we have established on the coast of Labrador. Shooting, fishing, hunting, ad libitum. Eating, drinking, sleeping, ad injinitmn. What would you more P Come, like a good fellow, and be happy I " Ever thine, "J. Murray." ' I'll sell the farm," said Jack Robinson, folding the letter. I H' ■ ; M . !■ : i6C Fort Desolation; or, fi' K I. i1 ^1 " Yo u will P - exclaimed Joe. " What's your price P '* " Come over it with me, and look at the fixings, before I tell you," said Jack. They went over it together, and looked at every fence and stump and implement. They visited the live stjck, and estimated the value of the sprouting CT-op. Then they returned to the house, where they struck a bargain off-hand. That evening Jack bade adieu to the Mountain House, mounted hia horse, with his worldly goods at the pommel of the saddle, and rode away, leaving Joe, the trapper, in possession. In process of time our hero rode through the settlements to Montreal, where he sold his horse, purchased a few necessaries, and made his way d»^wn the St. Lawrence to the frontier settlements of the bleak and almost uninhabited north shore of the gulf. Uere he found some diihculty in engaging a Lxau to go with him, in a canoe, Upwards the coast of Labrador. Ai- irishman, in a fit of despondency, at length agreed; but on reaching a saw- mill that had been established by a couple of adventurous Yankees, in a region that seemed to be the out-skirts of creation, Paddy repented, and vowed he'd go no fartlier for love or money. Solitude in the WUderms*. 167 L the lorse, own the the pgth I been in jilion, fur Jack Robinson earnestly advised the faithless man to go home, and help his grandmother, thenceforth, to plant murphies ; after which he embarked in his canoe alone, and paddled away into the dreary north. Camping out in the woods at night, paddling all day, and Hving on biscuit and salt pork, with an occasional duck or gull, by way of variety; never seeing a human face froiu morn till night, nor hear- ing the sound of any \oice except his own, Jack pursued his voyage for fourteen days. At the end of that time he descried Fort Kamenistaquoia. It consisted of four small log-houses, perched on a conspicuous promontory, with a flag-staff ip the midst of t]]em. Here he was welcomed warmly by his friend John Murray and his colleagues, and was entertained for three days sumptuously on fresh salmon, salt pork, pancakes, and tea. Intellectually, he was regaled with glowing accounts of the fur trade and the salmon fisheries of that region. "Now, Jack," said Murray, on the third day after his arrival, while they walked in front of the fort, smoking; a morning pipe, " it is time that you were off to the new fort. One of our best men has built it, but he is not a suitable person to take charge, and aa !f h U \ ' :!:! f fi ^1 H«:l i68 Fort Desolation; or, the salmon season has pretty well advanced we are anxious to have you there to look after the salting and sending of them to Quebec." "What do you call the new fort?" inquired Jack. " Well, it has not yet got a name. We've been so much in the habit of styling it the New Fort that the necessity of another name has not occurred to us. Perhaps, as you are to be its first master, we may leave the naming of it to you." " Very good," said Jack ; " I am ready at a moment's notice. Shall I set off this forenoon ? " " Not quite so sharp as that," replied Murray, laughing. "To-morrow morning, at day-break, will do. There is a small sloop lying in a creek about twenty miles below this. We beached her there last autumn. You'll go down in a boat with three men, and haul her into deep water. There will be spring tides in two days, so, with the help of tackle, you'll easily manage it. Thence you will sail to the new fort, forty miles farther along the coast, and take charge." " The three men you mean to give me know their worl, I presume ? *' said Jack. *0f course they do. Is one of them have been at the fort, however." r '■ u Solitude in tht Wildemeis, 169 "Oh! How then shall we find itP" inquired Jack. "By observation," replied the other. "Keep a sharp look out as you coast along, and you can't miss it." The idea of mists and darkness and storms occurred to Jack Robinson; but he only answered, "Very good." " Can any of the three men navigate the sloop P " he inquired, "Not that Fm aware of," said Murray; "but you know something of navigation, yourself, don't youP" "No! nothing!" "Pooh! nonsense. Hav© you never failed a boat ? " Yes, occasionally." Well, it's the same thing. If a squall comes, keep a steady hand on the helm and a sharp eye to wind'ard, and you're safe as the Bank. If it's too strong for you, loose the halyards, let the sheets fly, and down with the helm ; the easiest thing in the world if you only look alive and d( n't get flurried." " Very good," said Jack, and as he said so his pipe went out ; so he knocked out the ashes and refilled it. Next morning our hero rowed away with hia three it n p' i M'^ I \%-tl( ' i 1 i •i 'H 170 Fort BesolaHon ; or, men, and soon discovered the creek of which his friend had spoken. Here he found the sloop, a clumsy " tub " of about twenty tons burden, and here Jack's troubles began. The Fairy, as the sloop was named, happened to have been beached during a very high tide. It now lay high and dry in what once had been mud, on tae shore of a land-locked bay or pond, under the shadow of "ome towering pines. The spot looked like an inland lakelet, on the margin of which one might have expected to find a bear or a moose-deer, but certainly not a sloop. " Oh 1 ve shall nevair g't hii oflP," said Franyois Xavier, one of the three men — a French-Canadian — on beholdin^r the stranded vessel. " We'll try," said Pierre, another of the three men, and a burly half-breed. " Try I " exclaimed Rollo, the third of the three men — a tall, powerful, ill-favoured man, who was somewhat of a bully, who could not tell where he had been born, and did not know who his father and mother had been, having been forsaken by them in bis infancy. " Try P you might as well try to lift a mountain! I've a mind to go straight back to Eamenistaquoia and tell Mr. Murray that to hiB face!" Sofifu^e %fi fhp Wt'MprtfP^n, 171 ^'n len, [iree was Ihad and bis [t a to hifl "Have youP" said Jack Kobmson, in a quiet, peculiar tone, accompanied by a gaze that had the effect of causing Hollo to look a little confused. " Come along, lads, we'll begin at once," he continued, " it will be full tide in an hour or so. Get the tackle ready, Fran9ois; the rest of you set to work, and clear away the stones and rubbish from under her sides/* Jack threw off hia coat, and began to work like a hero — as he was. The others followed his example ; and the result was that when the tide rose to its full height the sloop was freed of all the rubbish that had collected round the hul ; the block tackle was affixed to the masfc j the rope attached to a tree on the oppo- site side of the creek ; and the party were ready to haul. Put although they hauled until their sinews cracked J and the largo veins of their necks and fore- heads 8Y?'^lled almost to bursting, the sloop did not move an inch. The tide began to fall, and in a few minutes that opportunity was gone. There were not many such tiaes to count on, so Jack applied all his energ'^s and ingenuity to the work. By the time the next tide rose t ey had felled twu large pines, and applied them to the side of the vessel. Two of the party swung at the ends of these; the other two hauled or the block -tackle, This time the sloop "1; f* H ':: . }::. 172 Fhrt Dpxolation; or, moved a little at the full flood ; but the moment of hope soon passed, and the end was not yet attained. The next tide was the last high one. They worked like desperate men during the interval. The wedge was the mechanical ]>ower which prevailed at last. Several wedges were inserted under the vessel's side, and driven home. Thu*^ the sloop was canted over a little towards the water. When the tide was at the full, one man hauled at the tackle, two men swung at the ends of the levers, and Jack hammered home the wedges at each heave and pull ; thus securing every inch of movement. The result was that the sloop slid slowly down the bank into deep water. It is wonderful how small a matter will arouse human enthusiasm! The cheer that was given on the successful floating of the Fair^ was certainly as full of fervour, if not of volume, as that which fol- lowed the launching of the Great Eastern ! Setting sail down he gulf they ran before a fair breeze which speedily increased to a favouring gale. Before night a small bay was descried, with three log- huts on the shor^i. This was the new fort. They ran into the bay, grazing a smooth rock in their passage which caused the Fairy to tremble from stem to stern, and cast anchor close to a wooden jetty. On the end of this a soliI.t.iy individual ^ Solitude in the Wilderness. '73 (apparently a maniac) was seen capering and yelling wildly. " What fort is this ? " shouted Jack. "Sorrow wan o' me knows," cried the maniac; " it's nivor been christened yet. Faix, if it's a fort at all, I'd call it Fort Disolation. Och I but it's lone- some IVe been these three days — niver a wan here but meself an' the ghosts. Come ashore, darlints, and comfort me I " " Fort Desolation, indeed ! " muttered Jack Robin- son, as he looked round him sadly; " not a bad name. I'll adopt it. Lower the boat, lads." TLu^i Jack took possession of his new home. f^ i; ' I m ■I >» ^ 174 JPor< DeiolaUon; or. CHAPTER m. DOMEsnnc Am) personal matters. i;f :p .;.. i i If I: Mi t< ((I Jack Robinson's first proceeding on entering the new fort and assuming the command, was to summon the man (supposed to be a maniac) named Teddy O'Donel, to his presence in the " Hall." Your name is Teddy O'Donel P" said Jack. The same, sir, at your sarvice," said Teddy, with a respectful pull at his forelock. " They was used to call me Mister O'Donel when I was in the army, but I've guv that up long ago an' dropped the title wid the commission." " Indeed : then you were a commissioned officer P " inquired Jack, with a smile. " Be no manes. It was a slight longer title than that I had. They called me a non-commissioned officer. I niver could find in me heart to consociate wid them consaited commissioners — though there was wan or two of *em as was desarvin* 0' the three stripes. But I niver took kindly to sodgerin*. It r the Lon Idy ith to ut i^id P" lan led ate ras ree It BoUtude in the WilderneM. 175 was in the Howth militia I was. Good enongh hoys they was in their way, hut I couldn't pull wid them no how. They made me a corp'ral for good conduct, hut, fail, the great review finished me ; for I got into that state of warlike feeling that I loaded me muskiu five times widout firin', an* there was such a row round ahout that I didn't know the dirty thing had niver wint off t:ll the fifth time,, when she hursted into smithereens an' wint off intirely. No wan iver seed a scrag of her after that. An' the worst was, she carried away the small finger of Bob Riley's left hand. Boh threw down his muskit an' ran off the ground howlin', so I picked the wipon up an' blazed away at the inimy ; hut, bad luck to him. Bob had left his ramrod in, and I sint it right through the flank of an owld donkey as was pullin' an apple and orange cart. Oh I how that haste did kick up its heels, to be sure I and the apples and oranges they was flyin' like Well, well — the long and the short was, that I wint an* towld the colonel I couldn't stop no longer in such a regiment. So I guv it up an' comed out here." "And became a fur- trader," said Jack Robinson, with a snule. *' Just so, BUT, an' fort-builder to boot ; for, being a jiner to trade and handy wid the tools, Mr. Murray t ■ 1 m i ■r p w h t') .! 'i: 176 Fort Desolation ; or, sent me down here to build tlio place and take com- mand, but I s'poso I'm supptTsheeded now I " " Well, I believe you are, Teddy ; but I hope that you will yet do good service as my lieutenant." The beaming smile on Teddy's face showed that he was well pleased to be relieved from the responsibilities of office. *' Sure/' said he, " the throublo I have had wid the min an' the salvages for the last six weeks — it's past belavin* I An* thin, whin I sint the men down to the river to fush — more nor twinty miles off — an' whin the salvages wint away and left me alone wid only wan old salvage woman! — ochi I'd not wish my worst inimy in me sitivation." *' Then the savages have been giving you trouble, have they ? " " They have, sur, but not so much as the min." "Well, Teddy," said Jack, "go and fetch me some- thing to eat, and then you shall sit down and give me an account of things in general. But first give my men food. " Sure the/ve got it," replied Teddy, with a broad grin. " That spalpeen they calls RoUo axed for meat he first thing, in a voice that made me think he'd ait jie up alive av he didn't git it. So I guv *em the run 0' the pantry. Wliat'll j er plaze to dhrink, sur P i» Solitude in the Wildemeu. ^77 ** What have you got P " "Tay and coflFee, sur, not to mintion wathor. There's only flour an* salt pork to ait, for this is a bad place for game. I've not seed a bird or a bear for three weeks, an' the seals is too cute for me. But I'll bring ye the best that we've got." Teddy O'Donel hastened to the kitchen, a small log-hut in rear of the dwellin<^-houso, and left Jack Robinson alone in the " Hall." Jack rose, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and walked to the window. It was glazed with parch- ment, with the exception of the centre square, which was of glass. " Pleasant, uncommonly pleasant," he muttered, as he surveyed the landscape. In front lay a flat beach of sand with the gulf beyond, the horizon being veiled in mist. Up the river there was a flat beach with a hill beyond. It was a black iron-looking hill, devoid of all visible verdure, and it plunged abruptly down into the sea as if it were trying fiercely to drown itself. Down tlie river there was a continuation of flat beach, with, apparently, nothing whatever beyond. The only objects that enlivened the dreary expanse were, the sloop at the end of the wooden jetty and a small flag- staff in frmt of the house, from which a flag was flying li: IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V ^ V ^ /„. ^^ 'Q.r :/ 5r w/U. 1.0 'WIIIIIM 12.5 - IM IIIII2.2 36 I.I US 12.0 1.8 1.25 U 1111.6 p*,. .^ *1 ^> C'l %' O '/ ///. Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 €3 # :\ \ ^ .^ 6^ ^\> '%^ €^< M ^|l T* •78 Jbf ^ Ppnohfif^n : or, in honour of the arrival of the new governor. At the foot of this flagstaff there stood an old iron cannon, which looked pugnacious and cross, as if it longed to hurst itself and blow down all visible creation. Jack Robinson's countenance became a simple blank as he took the first survey of his new dominions. Suddenly a gleam of hope flitted across the blank. " Perhaps the back is better," he muttered, open- ing the door that led to the rear of the premises. In order to get out he had to pass through the kitchen, where he found his men busy with fried po^k and flour cakes, and his lieutenant, Teddy, preparing coflfee. "What is thatP" inquired Jack, pointing to a small heap of brown substance which Teddy was roasting in a frying-pan. "Sure it's coffee," said the man. "EhP" inquired Jack. " Coffee, sur," repeated Teddy with emphasii. "What is it made of? " inquired Jack. " Bread-crumbs, sur. I'm used to make it of pais, but it takes longer, d'ye see, for I've got to pound *em in a cloth after they're roasted. The crumbs is a'most as good as the pais, an' quicker made whin yer in a hurry." Jack's first impulse was to countermand the Solitude in the WHderneat, 179 ommbs and order tea, but he re&aincd, and went out to survey tlie back regions of his new home. He found that the point selected for the establish- ment of the fort was a plain of sand, on which little herbage of any kind grew. In rear of the house there was a belt of stunted bushes, which, as he went onward into the interior, became a wood of stunted firs. This seemed to grow a little more dense farther inland, and finally terminated at the base of the distant and rugged mountains of the interior. In fact, he found that he was established on a sandbank which had either been thrown up by the sea, or at no very remote period had formed part of its bed. Beturning home so as to enter by the front door, he observed an enclosed space a few hundred yards distant from the fort. Curious to know what it was, he walked up to it, and, looking over the stockade, beheld numerous little mounds of sand with wooden crosses at the head of them. It was the burial-ground of the establishment. Trade had been carried on here by a few adventurous white men before the fort was built. Some of their number having died, a space had been enclosed as a burying- ground. The Roman Catholic Indians afterwards used it, and it was eventually consecrated with muoh cexfciiiony by a priest w i8o Fort Desolation; or, 1 1 -! ill r it I Si ! With a face from which every vestige of intel- ligence was removed, Jack Robinson "eturned to the fort and sat down in solitary state in the hall. In the act of sitting down he discovered that the only arm-chair in the room was unsteady on its legs, these being of unequal length. There were two other chairs without arms, and equally unsteady on their legs. These, as well as everything in the room, were made of fir-wood — as yet uupainted. In the empty fire-place Jack observed a piece of charcoal, which he took up and began, in an absent way, to sketch on the white wall. He portrayed a raving maniac as large as life, and then, sitting down, began insensibly to hum, — " I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls," in the midst of which he was interrupted by the entrance of his lieutenant with a tray of viands. " Ah I yer a purty creatur," exclaimed Teddy, pausing with a look of admiration before the maniac. " Come, Teddy, sit down and let's have the news. What have we here ? " said Jack, looking at three covered plates which were placed before him. "Salt pork fried," said Toddy removing the oover. SolUude in the JFildemeaa, I8i "And here P" "Salt pork biled," said the man, removing the second cover; "an' salt pork cold, he added, re- moving the third. " You see, sur, I wasn't sui-e which way ye'd like it, an' ye was out whin I come to ax ; so I just did it up in three fashions. Here's loaf bread,' an' it's not bad, though I say it that made it." As Jack cut down into the loaf, he naturally remembered those lines of a well-known writer :— ** Who has not tasted home-made bread, A heavy compound of putty and lead I" "Are these cakes P' he said, as Teddy presented another plate with something hot in it. "Ay, pancakes they is, made of flour an' wather fried in grease, an' the best of aitin', as ye'U find ;— but, musha I they've aU stuck together from some raison I han't yet diskivered: but they'll be none the worse for that, and there's plenty of good thick molasses to wash 'em down wid." "And this," said Jack, pointing to a battered tin kettle, "is the—the " " That's the coffee, sur." " Ah I weU, sit down, Teddy, I have seen worse fare than this. Let's be thankful for it. jNow, then, let me hear about the fishery." If K > 1 81 Fort Desolation; or, '1 r i ■ ; k \ . Nothing pleased Teddy O'Donel so much as heing allowed to talk. He sat down accordingly and entertained his master for the next hour with a full, true, and particular account of every thing connected with Fort Desolation. We will not, however, inflict this on the reader. Reduced to its narrowest limits, his information was to the following effect : — That the Indians, generally, were well disposed towards the traders, though difficult to please* That a good many furs had heen already obtained, and there was a report of more coming in. That the salmon fishery was situated on a river twenty miles below the fort, and was progressing favourably ; but that the five men engaged there were a quarrelsome set and difficult to keep in order. Teddy thought, however, that it was all owing to one of the men, named Ladoc, a bully, who kept the other four in bad humour. But the point on which poor Teddy dilated most was his solitude. For some time he had been living with no other companions than an old Indian woman and her half-caste daughter, and they having left him, during the last three days he had been living entirely alone " among the ghosts,'* many of which he described minutely. This intelligence was brought to an abrupt close by 8oUtud$ in th$ Wilderneu, 183 I'D? ich by a row among the men in the kitchen. Bollo had been boasting of his walking powers to such an extent, that Pierre had become disgusted and spoke contemptuously of KoUo ; whereupon the bully, as usual, began to storm, and his wrath culminated when Pierre asserted that "Mr. Robinson would bring him to his marrow-bones ere long." " Jack Robinson ! " exclaimed Rollo "VTith con- tempt ; " Pd walk him blind in two houi-s." Just at that moment the door opened, and Jack stood before them. "You are too noisy, men," said he, in a quiet Yoice (Jack almost always spoke in a soft voice) ; "remember that this kitchen is within hearing ol the hall. RoUo, go down to the beach and haul up the sloop's boat, I see the tide is making on her." Rollo hesitated. " You hear ? " said Jack, still in a quiet tone, but with a look — not a fierce look, or a threatening look, but — a peculiar look, which instantly took effect. One has often observed a cat when about to spring. It makes many pauses in its prowling towards its prey, and occasional motions that lead one to expect a spring. But the motion which precedes the actual spring is always emphatic. It may not be violent ; it may be as slight as all the previous motions, but H if 184 Fort LMotatiofi ; ar, there is that in it which tella irresistibly, somehow, of » fixed purpose. So is it, doubtless, with tigers ; so was it with Jack Kobinson. His first remark to the men was a prowl; his order to EoUo wtu? a pause, with an intention ; his " you hear P " softly said, had a something in it which induced Hollo to accord instant obedience ! On returning to the hall, Jack paced up and down indignantly. " So there are two bullies in the camp," he soliloquized; "I must cure them both; — but Boftly, Jack. It won't do to fight if you can secure peace by other means. Let blows be the last resource. That's my motto. He'll walk me blind ! Well, we shall see, UHnorrow! m m'i W • f H:'. w StMutlt m th0 PTildemeti, i«S CHAPTER IT. TAMING ▲ BULLY, The morrow came, and Jack Robinsoii roie with the sun. Long before his men were astir he had inspboted the few books and papers of the establish- ment, had examined the condition of the fiir and goods store, and had otherwise made himselt acquainted with the details of the tort; having gone over its general features with Teddy the day before. When the "lieutenant" arose, he found indications of his new master having been everywhere before him, and noted the fact 1 As Teddy was by no means a man of order — although a good and trustworthy man — there was enough to be done before breakfast Jack purposely put Rollo into the kitchen to prepart the morning meal, this being comparatively light work. He himself worked with the other men in the stores. There was necessarily a great deal of lifting and shifting and clearing, in all of which ■1 m ' n !fl P i iM^ -• (^., ii' i86 Jbr< Dtaolation; or, operatioiis he took the heaviest part of the work, and did his work better and more thoroughly than any of the others. Teddy observed this also, and noted the fact I At breakfast there was naturally a good deal of talk among the men, and special mention was of course made of the energy of their master. Breakfast over, Jack assembled the men and apportioned to each his day's work. " I myself/' said he, " mean to walk down to the fishery to-day, and I leave O'Donel in charge ; I shall be back to-morrow. Eollo, you will prepare to accompany me." " Yes, sir," answered the man, not knov/ing very well how to take this. The others glanced at each other intelligently as they departed to their work. A few minutes sufficed for preparation, and soon Jack stood with his ri£e on his shoulder in front of the house. B.0II0 quickly made his appearance with an old trading gun. "You can leave that, we won't require it," said Jack ; " besides I want to walk fast, so it is well that you should be as light as possible." " No fear but I'll keep up with you, sir," said the man, somewhat piqued. "I do not doubt it," replied Jack, "but "P SoUiud^ in the Wilderneat, 187 gUD u enough for ui, put yours by and corn, along." Hollo obeyed, and resolved in his heart that he would give his new master a taste of his powers. Jack started off at a good rattUng pace, somewhat over four miles an hour. For the first mile RJ^o allowed him to lead, keeping about a foot behind. Then he thought to himself, " Now, my friend, 1% try you," and ranged up beside him, keeping a few yards to one side, however, in order to avoid the appearance of racing. After a few minutes he pushed the pace considerably, and even went ahead of his companion ; but, ere long. Jack was alongside and the pace increased to nearly five miles an hour. Only those who have tried it know, or can fuUy appreciate, what is meant by adding a mUe an hour to one's pace. Most active men go at four miles an hour when walking at a good smart pace. Men never walk at five miles an hour except when in the utmost haste, and then only for a short distance Anytbmg beyond that requires a run in order to be sustained. It was curious to watch the progress of these two men. The aim of each was to walk at his greatest possible speed, without aUowing the slightest evidence I 1 88 Fort Daolaium; ^r. t *i I- \W rii of unwonted exertion to appear on his countenance or in hiA manner. They walked on the sands of the b^ore— there being no roads there — and at first the walking was good, as the tide was out and the sand hard. But before they had got half way oo the fishery the sea oame in and drove them to the soft sand, which, as nearly every one knows, is terribly fatiguing and difficult to walk In. Up to this point the two men had kept abreast^ going at a tremendous pace, yet conversing quietly and keeping down every appearance of distress; affecting, in fact, to be going at their usual and natural pace I Many a sidelong glance did Rollo cast, however, at his companion, to see if he were likely to give in soon. But Jack was as cool as a cucumber, and wore a remarkably amiable expression of countenance. He even hunmied snatches of one or two songs, as though he were only sauntering on the beach. At last he took out his pipe, filled it, and began to smoke, without slackening speed. This filled RoDo with surprise, and for the first time he began to entertain doubts as to the result of the struggle. As for Jack, he never doubted it for a moment. When they were compelled to take to the heavy sand and sank abovt the anklee at every step, he changed '? r Rolitnd^ in fhf Wildfrnfiu. 189 his tactics. Putting out his pipe, he fell hehind a few paces. " Ha ! " thought RoUo, " done up at last ; now I'll give it you." The thought that he was sure of victory infused such spirit into the man that he hraced himself to renewed exertion. This was just what Jack wanted. He kept exactly a foot hehind RoUo, yet when the other ventured to slacken his pace (which was now too great to bo kept up), he pushed forward just enough to keep him at it, without disheartening him as to the result. In the midst of this they both came to a full stop on discovering a box made of birch bark, which seemed to have been dropped by some passing Indians. " H»llo I what have we here P " cried Jack, stoop- ing down to examine it. " My blessin' on't whatever it is," thought RoUo, to whom the momentary relief from walking was of the greatest consequence. Jack knew this, and hastened his inspection. It was a box of bear's fat. "Come, not a bad thing in times like these," observed Jack ; " will you carry this or the rifle, my man ? See, the rifle is lighter, take that." Again they stepped out, and the sand seemed to If 190 Fori Desolation; or, » M ^ ' grow softer and deeper as they advanced. They were now five miles from the end of their journey, 80 Jack hegan to exert himself. He pushed on at a pace that caused RoUo to pant end hlow audihly. For some time Jack pretended not to notice this, hut at last he turned round and said — " You seem to be fatigued, my man, let me carry the rifle." Bollo did not object, and Jack went forward with the box and rifle more rapidly than before. He was perspiring, indeed, at every pore profusely, but wind and limb were as sound as when he star'^jd. He finally left RoUo out of sight, and arrived at the fishery without him 1 Half an hour afterwards Rollo arrived. He was a stout fellow, and by taking a short rest, had recovered sufficiently to come in with some degree of spirit; nevertheless, it was evident to all that he was " used up," for "it is not the distance but the pace that kills I " He found the fishermen at dinner, buttering their cakes with the bear's grease that had been discovered on the way down. Jack Robinson was flitting in the midst of them, chatting quietly and smoking his pipe beside the fire-place of the hut. Jack introduced him as one of the new men, but made no reference Ui the walk from Fort Desolation. 6oKtvde in the Wildemem, tQI He felt, however, that he had conquered the man, at least for that tim?), and hoped that further and more violent methods would not be necessary. In this he was disappointed, as the sequel will show. That night Jack slept on a bed made of old sahnon- nets, with a new sahnon-net above him for a blanket It was a peculiar and not a particularly comfortable bed ; but in his circumstances he could have slept on a bed of thorns. He gazed up at the stars through ttie hole in the roof that served for a chimney, and listened to the chirping of the frogs in a neighbouring swamp, to which the snoring of the men around him formed a rough-and-ready bass. Thus he lay gazing and listening, till stars and strains alike melted away and left him in the sweet regions of oblivion. i I9« ]fbrt Lmohtion; or% CHAPTETl y. THR SALMON FISHTRRT. Next morning, Jack Robinson went ont at day- break to inspect the salmon fishery. The riyer, up which the fish went in thousands, was broad, deep, and rapid. Its banks were clothed with spruce-fir and dense underwood. There was little of the picturesque or the beautiM in the scenery. It was a bleak spot and unattractive. Two of the four men who conducted the fishery were stationed at the mouth of the river. The other two attended to the nets about six miles farther up, at a place where there was a considerable fall termi- nating in a long, turbulent rapid. "With his wonted promptitude and energy. Jack began to make himself master of his position long before the men were stirring. Before Ladoo, who was superintendent, had lighted his first pipe and strolled down to the boat to commence the operation! of th« day. Jack had ezaminod th« n«t8, tht salt- n ■P SoKtudf in the Wildemen, 193 boxes, the curing-vats, the fish in pickle, the casks, and all the other matSriel of the fishery, with a critical eye. From what he saw, he was convinced that Ladoc was not the best manager that could be desired, and, remembering that Ladoc waa a buUy, he was strengthened in an opinion which he had long entertamed, namely, that a bully is never a trustworthy man. He was in the act of forming this opinion, when Ladoc approached. "Good morning, Ladoc," said he; "yon rise early." " Oui, sair ; mais, you gits up more earlier." "Yes, I am fond of morning air. The fishery prospers, I see." "It does, monsieur," said Ladoc, accepting the remark as a compliment to himself; "ve have catch fifteen casks abready, and they is in most splendid condition." " Hum I " ejaculated Jack, with a doubtful look at a cask which was evidently leaking, " hum ! yes, you are getting on pretty well, but — " Here Jack " hummed " again, and looked pointedly at one of the large vats, which was also leaking, and around which there was a great deal of salt that had been scattered carelessly on tue ipround. ,1 » Jill 194 Ibrt Deiohtion; off Raisiiig his eyes to the roof of the low shed in which the salt-hoxes stood, he touched with his stick a torn piece of its tarpaulin covering, through which rain had found its way in had weather. He " hummed " again, hut said nothing, for he saw that Ladoo was a little disconcerted. After some minutes Jack turned to his companion with a hland smile, a id ^aid — "The next station is — how many miles did you Bay?" " Six, monsieur." ** Ah, six I well, let us go up and see it. You can show me the way." "Breakfast he ready ver* soon," said Ladoc '* monsieur vill eat first, p'r'aps P " " No, we will breakfast at the upper station. Ho, RoUo ! here, I want you." Roilo, who issued from the hut at the moment, with a yiew to examine the weather and light his pipe, came forward. "I am going with Ladoc to the upper station," said Jack ; " you will take his place here until we return. ' "Very well, sir," replied Rollo, fixing his eyes upon Ladoc. At the same moment Ladoc fixed his eyes on BoUo. The two men seemed to read each BoliUttk in the Wilderneu, 195 other's (Oiaracter in a single glance, and then and there hurled silent defiance in each other's teeth through their eyes I Ladoo was annoyed at haying been silently found fault with and superseded ; RoUo was aggrieved at being left behind; both men Vera therefore enraged— for it is wonderful how small a matter is sufficient to enrage a bully— but Jack ordered Ladoo to lead the way, so the rivals, or enemies, parted company with another glance' of defiance. That day, Jack Robinson had a somewhat rough and remarkable experience of life. He began by overhauling the nets at the mouth of the river, and these were so proHfio that the small flat-bottomed boat used by the fishermen was soon half fiUed witn glittering salmon, varying from ten to fifteen pounds in weight. In order to avoid having his mocassins and nether garments soiled, Jack, who puUed the sculls, sat with bare feet and tucked-up trousers. In less than an hour he rowed back to the landing-place, Uterally up to the knees in salmon I Among these were a few young seals that had got entangled in the nets, while in pursuit of the fish, and been drowned. Those last were filled with water to such an extent, that they resembled inflated bladders! ;ii I: i' :i' S^ \"H" 196 fiori J)§tolahon; or, * Breakfast ii ready, sir/' said one of the men, as the boat-party leaped ashore. "Very good/' replied Jack; turning to Ladoc, " DOW, my man, are you ready to start for the upper fishery?" " Eh P ah — oui, monsieur." There was a titter amongst the men at the expres- sion of their big comrade's face, for Ladoo was rarenously hungry, and felt inclined to rebel at the idea of being obliged to start on a six-miles' walk without food ; but as his young master was about to do ^e same he felt that it was beneath his dignity to com- plain. Besides, there was a tomething pectiliar about Jack's manner that puzzled and overawed the man. The fact was, that Jack Robinson, wanted to know what his bullies were made of, and took rather eccentric methods of finding it out. He accordingly set off at his best pace, and pushed Ladoc so hard, that he arrived at the upper fishery in a state of profuse perspiration, with a very red face, and with a disagreeably vacuous feeling about the pit of his stomach. They found the men at the station just landing with a boat-load of fish. They were all oiean-run, and shone in the bright sunshine like bars of burnished silver. 8oliiu(U in th* Wiklernm. 197 "Now, Ladoc," said Jack, "get breakfaat ready, while I look over matters here." Ft need not be said that the man obeyed most willingly. His master went to examine into details Half-an-hour sufficed to make him pretty weU acquainted with the state of nitttters at the station, and, during breakfast, he soon obtained from the men all the knowledgo they possessed about the fishery, the natives, and the region. One of the men was a half-caste, a fine-looking, grave, earnest fellow, who spoke English pretty well. His name was Marteau. " The seals and the bears are our worst enemies, sir," said Marteau, in the course of conversation. " Indeed I and which of the two are worst ? " in- quired Jack. "Another slice of pork, Ladoo, your appetite appears to be sharp this morning; thank you, go on, Marteau, you were saying something about the bears and seals." "Ifs not easy to say which of them is worst, sir. I think the bears is, for the seals eat the bits that they bite out o' the fish, and so got some good of it; but the bears, they goes to the vats and pulls out the salt fish with their claws, for you see, sir, they can't resist the smell, but when they tries to eat 'em— ah ! you should see the faces they do make I You see. If' . J, I9S /•r^ DisoUtion; oi' they oon't ftand the salt, so they don't est mann, but they hauls about and tears up an uncommon lot of fish." " It must make him ver' t'irsty," observed Lb'Iio, swallowing a can of tja at a draught. " It makes one thirsty to think of it," said Jack, imitating Ladoc's example ; " now, lads, we'll go and overhaul the nets." Just as he spoke, Ladoc sprang from his seat, seized Jack's gun, which leant against the wall, shouted, " A bear ! " and, levelling the piece through the open doorway, took aim at the bushes in front of the hut. At the same moment Jack leaped forward, struck up the muzzle of the gun just as it exploded, and, seizing Ladoc by the collar, hurled him with extra- ordinary violence, considering his size, against the wall. " Make yourself a better hunter," said he, sternly, " before you presume to lay hands again on my gun. XiOok there ! " Jack pointed, as he spoke, in the direction in which the man had fired, where the object that had been mistaken for a bear appeared in the form of a man, crawling out of the bushes on all-fours. He seemed to move unsteadily, as if he were in pain. Emming to hifl assistanoe, they found that he was Boktuot in the Wikhmest, «99 an Indian, and, from the blood that bespattered his dress and hand, it was evident that he had been wounded. He was a pitiable object, in the last stage of exhaustion. When the party ran towards him, he looked up in their faces with lustreless eyes, and then sank fainting on the ground. *' Poor fellow I " said Jack, as they carried him into the hut and placed him on one of the low beds ; " he must have met with an accident, for there is no war- fare in this region among the Indians to account for his being wounded." " 'Tis a strange accident," said Marteau, when the man's clothes were stripped off and the wounds exposed. "An accident sometimes puts one bullet through a man, but seldom puts two ! " "True," said Jack, " this looks bad, here is a hole elean through the fleshy part of his right arm, and another through his right thigh. An enemy must have done this." On farther examination it was found that the bone of the man's leg had been smashed by the bullet, which, after parsing through to the other side of the limb, was arrested by the skin. It was easily ex- tracted, and the wounds were dressed by Jack, who, to his many useful qualities, added a considerable knowledge of medicine and surgery. o 1 ■ i 1 1 ' f ■ t m I f m 200 Fhrt DMolatum ; or^ When the Indian recovered sufficiently to giye an account of himself to Marteau, who understood his language perfectly, he told him, to the surprise of all, that his double wound was indeed the result of an accident, and, moreover, that he had done the deed with his own hand. Doubt! (>ss it will puzzle the reader to imagine how a man could so tw'.st himself, khat with an unusually long gun he could send a . bullet at one shot through his right arm and right tliigh. It puzzled Jack and his men so much, that they were half inclined to think the Indian was not telling the truth, until he explained that about a mile above the hut, while walking through the hushes, he tripped and fell. He was carrying the gun over his shoulder in the customary Indian fashion, that is, by the muzzle, with the stock behind him. He fell on his hands and knees ; the gun was thrown forward and struck against a tree so violently, that it exploded; in its flight it had turned completely round, so that, at the moment of discharge, the barrel was in a line with the man's arm and leg, and thus the extraordinary wound was inflicted. To crawl from the spot where the accident occurred took the poor fellow nearly twelve hours, and he per- formed this trpng journey during the night and moming over a rugged country and w ithout food. Solitude in the Wildemeea. 20I The surgical operation engaged Jack's attention the greater part of the forenoon. When it was completed and the Indian made as comfortable as possible, he went out with the men to visit the nets which were set at the rapids about two miles higher up the riyer. 202 Fort Desolation; or. IV J % s CHAPTER VI. JACK HAS A DESPERATE ENOOUNTBB. Wb never can tell what a day or an hour may bring forth. This is a solemn fact on which young and old might frequently ponder with advantage, and 111 which we might enlarge to an unlimited extent ; :>ut our spnco will not admit of moralizing very much, therefore we beg the reader to moralize on that, foi him- or herself. The subject is none the less import- ant, that circumstances require that it should be touched on in a slight, almost flippant, manner. Had Jack Robinson known what lay before him that evening, he would — he would have been a wiser man I Nothing more appropriate than that occurs to us at this moment. But, to be more particular : — When the party reached the nets. Jack left them to attend to their work, and went off alone to the vats, some of which, measuring about six feet in diameter, were nearly full of fish in pickle. As he walked along the slight track which guided Solitude in the Witdrrne%». 303 him towards them, he pondered the circumstances in which he then found himself, and, indulging in a habit which he had acquired in his frequent and pro- longed periods of solitude, began to mutter his thoughts aloud. " So, so, Jack, you left your farm because you were tired of solitude, and now you find yourself in the midst of society. Pleasant society, truly I — bullies and geese, without a sympathetic mind to rub against. Humph I a pleasant fix you've got into, old feUow." Jack was wrong in this to some extent, as he after* wards came to confess to himself, for among his men there were two or three minds worth cultivating, noble and shrewd, and deep, too, though not educated oj refined. But at the time of which we write, Jack did not know this. He went on to soliloquize : " Yes, you've got a pretty set to deal with ; elements that will cause you enough of trouble before you have done with them. Well, well, don't give in, old chap. ITever say die. If solitude is to be your lot, meet it like a man. Why, they say that solitude of the worst kind is to be found where most people dwell. Has it not been said, that in the great city of London itself a man may be more solitary than in the heart of the wilderness P I've read it, but I can't very well ¥ 304 F&rt Dennlafion; or. believe it. Yet, there may be something in it. Humph I Well, well, Jack, you're not a philosopher, so don't irj to go too deep ; take it easy, and do the best you can.** At this po?it Jack came suddenly in sight of the vats. They stood in the centre of a cleared space in the forest. On the edge of the largest vat was perched an object which induced our hero to throw forward his fowling-piece hastily. It was a black bear, or rather the hind-quarters of a black bear, for the head and one paw and shoulder of the animal were far down in the vat. He was holding firmly to its edge by the hind legs and one fore-leg, while with the other he was straining his utmost to reach the fish. Jack's first impulse was to fire, but reflecting that the portion of the bear then in view was not a very vulnerable part, he hesitated, and finally crept behind a tree to consider, feeHug confident that whatever should occur he would be pretty sure of getting a favourable opportunity to fire with affect. Quite unconscious of his danger, bruin continued to reach down into the vat with unwearied determination. His efforts were rewarded with success, lor he presently appeared on the edge oi the vat with a fine •almon in his embrace. Now was Jack's opportunity. He raised his piece, but remembering Marteau's Snlifufffi in thfi WiMfirnfiSB. 30S a remark about the bear's difficulty in eating salt salmon, he postponed the fatal shot until he should have studied this point in natural history. His forbearance met with a reward, for the I'^ar kept him during the next £ve minutes in such a state of suppressed laughter, that he could not have taken a steady aim to have saved his life. Its sense of smell was evidently gratified, for on leaping to the ground it took a powerful snufP, and then began to devour the salmon with immense gusto. But the first mouthful produced an expression of countenance that could not be misunderstood. It coughed, spluttered, dnd sneezed, or at least gave vent to something re- sembling these sounds, and drew back from the fish with a snarl ; then it snuffed again. There was no mistaking the smell. It was delicious I Bruin, dis- believing his sense of taste, and displaying unwise faith in his sense of smell, made another attempt. He had tried the head first ; with some show of reason he now tried the tail. Faugh I it was worse than the other; "as salt as fire," as we have heard it some- times expressed. The spluttering at this point became excessive, and it was clear that the bear was getting angry. Once again,, with an amount of perseverance that deserved better fortune, the bear snuffed heartily at the fish, tore it to shreds with his claws, and then lii Is 206 Ihrt Desolation: or* IH ■\V> tried another mouthful, which it spat out instantly. Displaying all its teeth and gums, it shut its eyes, and, raising its head in the air, fairly howled with dis- appointment. Jack now deemed it prudent to bring the scene to a close, so, calming himself as well as he could, he took a steady aim, and, watching his opportunity, fired. The bear did not fall. It faced round in a moment, and, uttering a fierce growl, very unlike to its previous tones, rushed upon its enemy, who fired his second barrel at the creature's breast. Whether it was that Jack's fit of laughter had shaken his nerves so as to render him incapable of taking a good aim, is a mattei of uncertainty, but although both shots took eflfect, the bear was not checked in his career. Oe it came. Jack had no time to load. He turned to run, when his quick eye observed a branch of a tree over his head within reach. Dropping his gun he bounded upwards and caught it, and, being unusually powerful in the arms, drew himself up and got astride of it just as the bear reached the spot. But bruin was not to be baulked so easily. He was a black bear and a good climber. Finding that he could not at his utmost stretch obtain a nibble at Jack's toes, he rushed at the trunk of the tree and began to ascend rapidly. Jack at onoe moved towards the end of the branch, intend- k Solitude in the WiMemess. 207 ing to drop to the ground, recover his gun and run for it ; but the movement broke the branch off suddenly, and he came down with such a crash, that the bear stopped, looked round, and, seeing his enemy on the ground, began to descend. Although somewhat stunned by the fall, our hero was able to spring up and run in the direction of the hut. The bear was so close on his heels, how- ever, that he had no chance of his reaching it. He felt this, and, as a last resource, doubled on his track like a hare and made for the banks of the river, which were twenty feet high at the place, intending to leap into the rapid and take his chance. In this, too, he was foiled. His fall from the tree had partially disabled him, and he could not run with his wonted agility. About ten yards from the edge of the bank the bear overtook him, and it seemed as if poor Jack Robinson's troubles were at last about to be brought to an abrupt close. But Jack was self-possessed and brave as steel. On feeling the bear's claws in his back, he drew his knife, wheeled round, fell into its embrace, and plunged the knife three or four times in its side. The thing was done in a moment, and the two falling together, rolled over the edge of the steep bank, and went orashinfir down through the bushes amid It inw. 208 i [ ' il <;■ i» 'lU rii> Jbr/ Desolation; or, a dond of dust and stones into the raging flood below. At the foot of the rapid, Marteau and one of the men happened to be rowing ashore with a load of fish. " Hallo ! what's that P " cried Marteau. " Eh ! " exclaimed his comrade. " A bear I " shouted Marteau, backing his oar. *• And a man ! What 1 I say I " "Pull! pull!" Next moment the boat was dancing on the foam, and Marteau had hold of the boar's neck with one hand, and Jack's hair with the other. They were soon hauled to land, the bear in its dying agonies and Jack in a state of insensibility ; but it took the united strength of the two men to tear him from the tremendous grasp that he had fastened on the brute, and his knife was found buried to the handle close alongside of bruin's heart! Bohtude in the WUdemm, 8O9 CHAPTER VIL SOLITTJDB. On the day of his encounter with the hear, Jack Robinson sent RoUo up to the fort to fetch duwii all the men except O'Donel in order that the fishery might be carried on with vigour. Of course it is unnecessary to inform the reader that Jack speedily recovered from the effects of his adventure. It would be absurd to suppose that any- thing of an ordinary nature could kill or even do much damage to our hero. Beyond five deep punctures on his back and five on his breast, besides a bite in the shoulder, Jack had received no damage, and was able to return on foot to Fort Desolation a few days after the event. On arriving, he found his man, Teddy O'Donel, sitting over the kitchen fire in the last stage of an attack of deep depression and home sickness. Jack's sudden appearance Wrought an instantaneous 3ure. li .. < -I l! .if.' Mr; ■ 210 Fori Deflation: or, " Ah I " said he, grasping his master's hand and wringing it warmly; "it*s a blessed sight for sore eyes I Sure I've bin all but dead, sur, since ye wint If away, "You've not been ill, have youP" said Jack, looking somewhat earnestly in the man's face. *' 111 P No, not i' the body, if that's what ye mane, but I've been awful bad i' the mind. It's the intellect as kills men more nor the body. The sowl is what does it all." (Here Teddy passed his hand across his forehead and looked haggard.) "Ah! Mr. Robinson, it's myself as'll niver do to live alone. I do belave that all the ghosts as iver lived have come and took up there abode in this kitchen." " Nonsense ! " said Jack, sitting down on a stool beside the fire and filling his pipe ; " you're too superstitious." " Supperstitious, is it P " exclaimed the man, with a look of intense gravity. " Faix, if ye seed them ye'd change yer tune. It's the noses of *em as is wust. Of all the noses for length and redness and for blowin' like trumpets I ever did see — well, well, it's no use conjicturin', but I do wonder sometimes what guv the ghosts sitch noses." "I suppose they knowi that best themselves," observed Jack. Bohiude in the Wildemeu, 211 " P'r'aps they does," repUed Teddy with a medi- tatiye gaze at the fire. "But I rather suspect," continued Jack, "that as your own nose is somewhat long and red, and as youVe got a habit of squinting, not to mention snoring, Teddy, we may be justified in accountinff for the •' ^ "Ah I it's no use jokin*," interrupted O'Donel; "ye'll niver joke me out o' my belaif in ghosts. It's no longer agone than last night, after tay, I laid me down on the floor beside the fire in sitch a state o' moloncholly weakness, that I really tried to die. It's true for ye ; and I belave I'd have done it, too, av I hadn't wint oflF to slape by mistake, an' whin I awoke, I was so cowld and hungry that I thought I'd pusspone dyin' till after supper. I got better after supper, but, och I it's a hard thing to live all be yer lone like this." " Have no Indians been here since I left P " " Not wan, sur." "Well, Teddy, I will keep you company now. We shall be alone here together for a few weeks, aa I mean to leave all our lads at the fishery. Mean- while, bestir yourself and let me have supper." Durmg the next few weeks Jack Robinson was very busy. Being an extremely active man, he soon ?iti ■ tS 213 Fort Desolation; or, l! t ii 1 ■; ' did every conceivable thing that had to be done about the fort, and conceived, as well as did, a good many things that did not require to be done. While rummaging in the stores, he discovered a hand- net, with which he waded into the sea and caught large quantities of small fish, about four inches in length, resembling herrings. These he salted and dried in the sun, and thus improved his fare, — for, having only salt pork and fresh salmon, he felt the need of a little variety. Indeed, he had already begun to get tired of salmon, insomuch that he greatly preferred salt pork. After that, he scraped together a sufficient number of old planks, and built therewith a flat-bottomed boat — a vessel much wanted at the place. But, do what he would, time hung very heavy on his hands, even although he made as much of a companion of Teddy O'Donel, as was consistent with his dignity. The season for wild fowl had not arrived, and he soon got tired of going out with his gun, with the certainty of returning empty-handed. At last there was a brief break in the monotony of the daily life at Fort Desolation. A band of Indians came with a good supply of furs. They were not a very high tjrpe of human beings, had little to say, and did not seem disposed to say it. But they wanted Soliludt in tie Wildernett. ji, pxxU from Jack, and Jack wanted furs from them ; so their presence during the two days and nights they stayed shed a glow of moral sunshine over the fort that made ite inhabitants as light-hearted and joyful as though some unwonted piece of good fortmie had oeiallen them. When the Indians went away, however, the gloom was proportionally deeper. Jack and his man souudcd lower depths of despair than they had ever before fathomed, and the latter began to make frequent allusions to the possibility of making away with him- selt Indeed, he did one evening, while he and Jack 8tood sJently on the shore together, propose that they should go into the bush behind the fort, cover them- selves over with leaves, and perish "at wance. like the babes m the wood." Things were in this gloomy condition, when an event occurred, which, although not of great import- ance m iteelf, made such a deep impression on the dwellers at Fort Desolation, that it is worth, of . chapter to iiseit ' " i^t:i ^ 214 iort Jjeaoiation i OTp OHAPTEIl Vm. HORRORS. One morning tLe sun rose with unwonted splendour on the broad bosom of the St. Lawrence. The gulf was like a mirror, in which the images of the sea- gulls were as perfect as the birds themselves, and the warm hazy atmosphere was lighted up so brightly by the sun, that it seemed as though the world were enveloped in delicate golden gauze. Jack Kobinson stood on the shore, with the exile of Erin beside him. Strange to say, the effect of this lovely scene on both was the reverse of gladdening. "It's veri/ sad," said Jack, slowly. " True for ye," observed the sympathizing Teddy, supposing that his master had finished his remark. "It*s very sad," repeated Jack, "to look abroad upon this lovely world, and know that thousands of our fellow-men are enjoying it in each other's society, while we are self-exiled here." Solitude in the Wilderneu, 315 " An' 80 it is." said Teddy, " not to mintion our fellow-women an' our fellow-childers to boot." "To be sure we have got each other's society, O'Donel," continued Jack, " and the society of the gulls " " An' the fush," interposed Teddy. " And the fish," assented Jack ; '' for all of which blessings we have cause to be thankful ; but it's my opinion that you and I are a couple of egregious asses for having forsaken our kind and come to vegetate here in the wilderness." " That's just how it is, sur. We're both on us big asses, an' it's a pint for investigation which on us is the biggest— you, who ought to have know'd better, or me, as niver know'd anything, a'most, to spake of." Jack smiled. He was much too deeply depressed to laugh. For some minutes they stood gazing in silent despondency at the sea. "What's that?" exclaimed Jack, with sudden animation, pointing to an object which appeared at the moment near the extremity of a point of rocks not far from the spot where they stood — " a canoe ? " " Two of 'em I " cried O'Donel, as another object came into view. The change which came over the countenances of V I lit'- ' •,1,. ■ ^ 2l6 Fbrt Desolation; or. ihe two men, as they stood watching the approach of th3 two canoes, would have been incomprehensible to any one not acquainted with the effect of solitude on the human mind. They did not exactly caper on the beach, but they felt inclined to do so, and their heaving bosoms and sparkling eyes told of the depth of emotion within. In about a quarter of an hour the canoes were within a short distance of the landing-place, but no shout or sign of recognition came from the Indians who paddled them. There was an Indian in the bow and stem of each canoe, and a woman in the middle of one of them. " Well, boys, what cheer P " said Jack, using a well-known backw* tod's salutation, as the men landed. The Indians silently took the proffered hand of the trader and shook it, replying in a low voice, " Wachee," as the nearest point they could attain to the pronuncifition of " What cheer ? " There was something so unusually solemn in the air and manner of the savages, that Jack glanced at the canoe in which the woman sat. There he saw what explained the mystery. In the bottom lay an object wrapped up in pieces of old cloth and birch- bark, which, from its form, was evidently a human body. A few words with the Indians soon drew from Bolitudt in the WildertieM. ai7 them the information that this was one of their wives who had been ailing for a long time, and at length had died. They were Roman Catholic converts, and had come to bury the body in the graveyard of the fort which had been " consecrated " by a priest. To whatever pitch of excitement Jack and his man had risen at the unexpected appearance of the Indians, their spirits fell co an immeasurably profounder depth !» il 1^ I Ptkt ;i :iil * 1 I tiMr f i 220 J'br^ Deiolatum; or. influence was now strong upon him. Every gust of wind that rumbled in the chimney sent a quabn to his heart. Every creak in the beams of his wooden kitchen startled his soul. Every accidental noise that occurred filled him with unutterable horror. The door, being clumsily made, fitted badly in all its parts, so that it shook and rattled in a perfectly heartrending manner. Teddy resolved to cure this. He stuck bits of wood in the opening between it and the floor, besides jamming several nails in at the sides and top. Still, the latch would rattle, being complicated in construc- tion, and not easily checked in all its parts. But Teddy was an ingenious fellow. He settled the latch by stuffing it and covering it with a mass of dough I In order further to secure things, he placed a small table against the door, and then sat down on a bench to smoke his pipe beside the door. It was at this point in the evening that Jack resolved, as we have said, to be condescending. As he had hitherto very seldom smoked his pipe in the kitchen, his footstep in the passage caused O'Donel's very marrow to quake. He turned as pale as death and became rigid with terror, so that he resembled nothing but an Irish statue of very dirty and discoloured marble. gust of lalm to wooden 1 noise horror. L all its erfectly bits of besides Still, astruo- . But e latch lough I small bench Jack s pipe caused ed as that ' very ♦I I. i liSl w ?! [•'! 11 ill ENTRANCE OF Tllfi SUPPOSED GHOST, ! I Solitude in the WihlfimeM. 22 T 1 Wten Jack put his hand on the latch, Teddy gasped once — he was incapable of morel The vision of the poor Indian woman rose before his mental eye, and he well, it's of no use to attempt saying what he thought or felt ! The obstruction in the latch puzzled Jack not a little. He was surprised at its stiffness. The passage between the hall and kitchen was rather dark, so that he was somewhat nervous and impatient to open the door. It happened that he had left the door by which he had quitted the hall partially open. A gust of wind shut this with a bang that sent every drop of blood into his heart, whence it rebounded into his extremities. The impulse thus communi- cated to his hand was irresistible. The door was burst in ; as a matter of course the table was hurled into the middle of the kitchen, where it was violently arrested by the stove. Poor Teddy O'Donel, unable to stand it any longer, toppled backwards over the bench with a hideous yell, and fell headlong into a mass of pans, kettles, and firewood, where he lay sprawling and roaring at the full power of his lungs, and keeping up an irregular discharge of such things as came to hand at the supposed ghost, who sheltered himself as he best mi<^tit behind the StOVtt. ill 4 ! |l ;!l Wl Mi 'tii ' %'i M&- I - . i- ll Fort Desolation; or. " Hold hard, you frightened ass I " shouted Jack as a billet of wood whizzed over his head. " Eh ! what ? It's youy sur ? 0, musha. av I didn't belave it was the gliost at last ! *' " I tell you what, my man," said Jack, who was a good deal nettled at his reception, " I would advise you to make sure that it is a ghost next time hefore you shie pots and kettles about in that way. See what a smash you have made. Why, what on earth have you been doing to the door ? " " Sure I only stuffed up the kayhole to keep out the wind." ** Humph ! and the ghosts, I suppose. Well, see that you are up betimes to-morrow and have these salmon nets looked over and repaired." So saying. Jack tuned on his heel and left the room, feeling too much annoyed to carry out his original intention of smoking a pipe with his man. He spent the evening, therefore, in reading a pocket copy of Shakespeare, and retired to rest at the usual hour in a more composed frame of mind and rather inclined to laugh at his superstitious fears. It happened, unfort\inately, that from hia window, as he lay on his bed, Jack could see the graveyard. This fact had never been noticed by him before, although he had lain there nightly since his arrival. SoUttide in (he Wilderness. 323 and looked over the yard to tho beach and the sea beyond. Now, the night being bright moonlight, he could see it with appalling distinctness. Sleep was banished from his eyes, and although he fre- quently turned with resolution to the wall and shut them, he was invariably brought back to his old position as if by a species of fascination. Meanwhile Teddy O'Donel lay absolutely quaking in the kitchen. Unable to endure it, he at last rose, opened the door softly, and creeping up as near us he dared venture to his master's door, sat down there, as he said " for company." In course of time he fell asleep. Jack, being more imaginative, remained awake. Presently he saw a figure moving near the church- yard. It was white — at least the upper half of it was. " Pshaw I this is positive folly ; my digestion must be out of order," muttered Jack, rubbing his eyes ; but the rubbing did not dissipate the figure which moved past the yard and approached the fort. At that moment Teddy O'Donel gave vent to a prolonged snore. Delivered as it was against the wooden step on which his nose was flattened, it sounded dreadfully like a groan. Almost mad with indignation and alarm, Jack Kobinson leaped from his J 1 i ' i M iii m r.. i''i I i 1' s ■L K ,1 i ' :!l ii '' H" ., ; •■:>.' 1 1^- '! 1 if 1' - iiri 1 ill nni iil^ .^iau 224 For/ De^olafion ; or^ bed and pulled on his trousers, resolved to bring things to an issue of some sort. He threw open his chamber door with violence and descended the staircase noisily, intending to arouse his man. He did arouse him, effectually, by placing his foot on the back of his head and crushing his face against the steps with such force as to produce a roar that would have put to shame the war-whoop of the wildest savage in America. In endeavouring to recover himself, Jack fell upon Teddy and they rolled head- over-heels down the steps together towards the door of the house, which was opened at that instant by Ladoc, who had walked up to the fort, clad only in his shirt and trousers (the night being warm), to give a report of the condition of things at the fishery, where he and BoUo had quarrelled and the men generally were in a state of mutiny. brill « Solitude in the Wildernem, 22$ CHAPTER IX THE BULLY RECEIVES A LESSON. "We regret to be compelled to chronicle the fact, that Jack Robinson lost command of his temper on the occasion referred to in the last chapter. He and Teddy O'Donel rolled to the very feet of the amazed Ladoc, before the force of their fall was expended. They sprang up instantly, and Jack dealt the Irish- man an open-handed box on the ear that sent him staggering against one of the pillars of the verandah, and resounded in the still night air like a pistol-shot Poor Teddy would have fired up under other circum- stances, but he felt so deeply ashamed of having caused the undignified mishap to his master, that he pocketed the affront, and quietly retired towards his kitchen On his way thither, however, he was arrested by the tremendous tone in which Jack demanded of Ladoc the reason of his appearance at such an untimely hour. There was a slight dash of insolence in the man s reply. fi I 336 Fort Deiolation; or, ♦!!'; I ! p 1 "I come up, monsieur,'* said he, "to tell you if there be two masters at fishery, / not be one of 'em. Kollo tink he do vat him please, mais I say, no ; so ve quarrel." " And so, you take upon you to desert your post," thundered Jack. " Vraiment, oui," coolly replied Ladoo. Jack clenched his fist and sprang at the man as a bull-terrier might leap on a mastiff. Almost in the act of striking he changed his mind, and, instead of delivering one of those scientific blows with which he had on more than one occasion in his past history ter- minated a fight at its very commencement, he seized Ladoo by the throat, tripped up his heels, and hurled him to the ground with such force, that he lay quite still for at least half a minute I Leaving him there to the care of O'Donel, who had returned. Jack went up to his bedroom, shut the door, thrust his hands into his pockets, and began to pace the floor rapidly, and to shake his head. Gradually his pace became slower, and the shaking of his head more sedate. Presently he soliloquized in an undertone. "This won't do, John Robinson. You've let off too much steam. Quite against your principles to be 80 violent— shame on you, man. Yet after all it wat very provoking to be mode such a fool of before that ii I Solitude in the ^ilderneu. 327 Let off to be jit tpoa |e that insolent fellow. Poor Teddy — I wish I hadn't hit you such a slap. But, after all, you deserved it, you superstitious blockhead. Well, well, it's of no use regretting. Glad I didn't hit Ladoc, though, it's too soon for that. Humph I the time has come for action, however. Things are drawing to a point. They shall culminate to-morrow. Let me see." Here Jack's tones became inaudible, and he began to complete his toilette. His thoughts were busy — to judge from his knitted brows and compressed lips. The decision of his motions at last showed that he had made up his mind to a course of action. It was with a cleared brow and a self-possessed expression of countenance that he descended, a few minutes later, to the hall, and summoned O'Donel. That worthy, on making his appearance, looked confused, and began to stammer out — " I beg parding, sur, but — but raally, you know — it, it was all owin' to them abominable ghosts " Jack smiled, or rather, tried to smile, but owing to conflicting emotions the attempt resulted in a grin. "Let bygones be bygones," he said, "and send Ladoc here." Ladoc entered with a defiant expression, which was evidently somewhat forced. H \ J': i! iii !i* m ill 1 h ' if I ?'» fil i'j •»i, 228 Fort Desolation; or. Jack was seated at a table, tommg oyer some papers. Without raising his head, he said, — " Be prepared to start for the ^"^Hery with me in half-an-hour, Ladoo. " Monsieur ? ** exclaimed the man, with a look of surprise. Jack raised his head and looked at him. It was ono of his peculiar looks. " Did you not understand me P " he said, jumping up suddenly. Ladoc vanished with an abrupt " Oui, monsieur," and Jack proceeded, with a real smile on his good* humoured face, to equip himself foi ^he road. In half an hour the two were ^ 'ng silently side by side at a smart pace towards me fishery, while poor Teddy O'Donel was left, as he afterwards said, " all be his lone wid the ghost and the newly buried ooman," in a state of mental agony, which may, perhaps, be conceived by those who possess strong imaginations, but which cannot by any possibility be adequately described. [i.':l Solitude in the Wildenim. 229 me in >t CHAPTER X GRANGERS AND STRANGE EVENTS. The monotony of the night march to thA floi, mble a few hundred yards from the shore. ' tHe/^sriTit^^'^-^^^"-^ aai:;L:'t3t^::J;vements. Fraii9oiB itculmi- minutes direction ^as soon to the himself lying the order, but, as we have seen, obeyed it. He was ore than surprised, however, when he saw Rollo alk into the enclosure, and still more astonished when Fran9ois followed in due course. None of the three spoke. They felt that Jack would not keep them long in suspense, and they were right. He soon appeared — smoking oalmly. " Now, lads," said he, " come here. Stand aside, Fran9ois. I have brought you to this place to witness our proceedings, and to carry back a true report to your comrades. Ladoc and Rollo (here Jack's face became suddenly very stem ; there was something internet though not loud, in his voice), you have kept my men in constant hot water by your quarrelling since you came together. I mean to put an end to this. You don't seem to be quite sure which of you is the best man. You shall settle that question this day, on this spot, and within this hour. So set to, you rascals I Fight or shake hands. / will see fair play ! " Jack blazed up at this point, and stepped up to the men with such a fierce expression, that they were utterly cowed. " Fight, I say, or shake hands, or " Here Jack paused, and his teeth ware heard to grate harshly together. »f i ! I ,/' : ■it 1 1 a , FfT I , 234 Fort Deiolafum; or, ,'. ii i *i The two bullies stood abashed. They evidently did not feel inclined to "come to the scratch." Yet they saw by the peculiar way in which their master grasped his cudgel, that it would be worse for both of them if they did not obey. " Well," said Ladoc, turning with a somewhat candid smile to Bollo, " I's willin' to shake hands if pou be." He held out his hand to RoUo, who took it in a shamefaced sort of way and then dropped it. " Good," said Jack ; " now you may go back to the hut; buty walk arm in arm. Let your comrades see that you are friends. Gome, no hesi- tation ! " The tone of command could not be resisted; the two men walked down to the river arm in arm, as if they had been the best of friends, and little Fran9ois followed — chuckling ! Next day a man arrived on foot with a letter to the gentlemen in charge of Fort Desolation. He and another man had conveyed it to the fort in a canoe from Fort Kamenistaquoia. " What have we here ? " said Jack Robinson, sitting down on the gunwale of a boat and breaking the seal. The letter ran aa follows :— Solitude in the Wilderness. 235 i:' mdently icratch." ch their rorse for )mewhat hands if k it in a go hack jet your no hesi- ted; the rm, as if Fran9ois 3r to the He and a canoe obinson, )reaking " Fort Eamenistaqtioia, fto., &c. "My dear Jack, "I am sorry to tell you that the business has all gone to sticks and stivers. We have not got enough of capital to compete with the Hudson's B. Co., and I may remark, privately, that if we had, it would not be worth while to oppose them on this desolate coast. The trade, therefore, is to be given up, and the posts abandoned. I have sent a clerk to succeed you and wind up the business, at Fort D., as I want you to come here directly, to consult as to future plans. " Your loving but unfortunate friend, "J. MURRAY." On reading this epistle, Jack heaved a deep sigh. " Adrift again I " he muttered. At that moment his attention was arrested by -the sound of voices in dispute. Presently the door of the men's house was flung open, and Rollo appeared with a large bundle on his shoulders. The bundle con- tained his " little all." He was gesticuiating passion- ately to his comrades. " What's wrong now ? " said Jack to Fran9ois, as the latter came towards him. " RoUo he go 'way," said Fran9oi8. ** There be an 'I I ( i^ 1 »i yii \ . ' ■Hi i 1 iV 236 Fort Desolation; or. Indian come in hims canoe, and Rollo make up his mind to go off vid him." " Oh I has he ? " said Jack, springing up and walking rapidly towards the hut. Now it must he told here that, a few days before the events we are describing, Jack had given Rollo a new suit of clothes from the Company's store, with a view to gain his regard by kindness, and attach him to the service, if possible. Rollo was clad in this suit at the time, and he evidently meant to carry it off. Jack crushed back his anger as he came up, and said in a calm, deliberate voice, " What noic, Rollo P" " I'm going off,'* said the man fiercely. *' I've had enough of you" There was something supematurally calm and bland in Jack's manner, as he smiled and said — " Indeed I I'm verp glad to hear it Do you go soon?" Ay, at once." Good. You had better change your dress before going." " Eh P ** exclaimed the man. " Your clothes belong to the company ; put them off I " said Jack. " Strip, you blackguard I " he « it '^ BoUtude in the Wildemets. 337 before shoated, suddenly bringing his stick within three inches of Rollo's nose, "Strip, or I'll break every bone in your carcase." The man hesitated, but a nervous motion in Jack's arm caused him to take off his coat somewhat promptly. " I'll go into the house," said Rollo, humbly. " No I " said Jack, sternly, " Strip where you are. Quick I " RgLIo continued to divest himself of his garments, until there was nothing left to remove. " Here, Fran9ois," said Jack, " take these things away. Now, sir, you may go." Rollo took up his bundle and went into the hut, thoroughly crestfallen, to re-clothe himself in his old garments, while Jack strolled into the woods to meditate on his strange fortunes. That was the end of Rollo. He embarked in a canoe with an Indian and went off — no one knew whither. So, the wicked and useless among men wander about this world to annoy their fellows for a time — to pass away and be forgotten. Perhaps some of them, through God's mercy, return to their right minds. We cannot tell. According to instructions. Jack made over the charge of his establishment that day to the clerk who I V -i i t,l^ •lis I I' i. i if I Ml" % 't H tf 338 Fbrt Desolation: or. had been sent down to take charge, and next morning set out for Fort Xamenistaquoia, in the boat with the shipwrecked seamen. Misfortune attended him even to the last minute. The new clerk, who chanced to be an enthusiastic young man, had resolved to celebrate his own advent and his predecessor's departure by firing a salute from an old carronade which stood in front of the fort, and wuich might, possibly, have figured at the battle of the Nile. He overcharged this gun, and, just as the boat pushed off, applied the match. The result was tremendous. The gun burst into a thousand pieces, and the clerk was laid flat on the sand I Of course the boat was run ashore immediately, and Jack sprang out and hastened to the scene of the disaster, which he reached just as the clerk, recover- ing from the effects of the shock, managed to sit up. He presented a wonderful appearance ! Fortu- nately, none of the flying pieces of the gun had touched him, but a flat tin dish, full of powder, from which he had primed the piece, had exploded in his face. This was now of a uniform bluish-black colour, without eyelashes or eyebrows, and sur- mounted by a mass of frizzled material that had once been the unfortunate youth's hair. Beyond this he had received no damag;e, so Jack morning at with minute, lusiastic advent salute he fort, 8 battle just as J result Lousand i! Of iy, and of the ecover- it up. Fortu- n had r, from in his i-blaok 1 sur- %t had Jack Solitude in the Wtldemew, 339 remained just long enough to dress his hurts, and make sure that he was still fit for duty. Once more entering the boat, Jack pushed oflf. "Good-bye, boys I " said he, as the sailors pulled away. "Farewell, Teddy, mind you find me out when you go up to Quebec," "Bad luck to me av I don\" cried the Irishman, whose eyes became watery in spite of himself. "And don't let the ghosts get the better of you I " shouted Jack. O'Donel shook his head. " Ah ! they're a bad lot, sur— but sorrow wan 0' them was iver so ugly as i\im I '* He concluded this remark by pointing over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the house where the new clerk lay, a hideous, though not severely injured, spectacle, on his bed. A last "farewell" floated over the water, as the boat passed round a point of land. Jack waved his hand, and, a moment later, Fort Desolation vanished from his eyes for ever. *♦♦••• Readers, it is not our purpose here to detail to you the life and adventures of Jack Robinson. We have recalled and recounted this brief passage in his eventful history, in order to give you some idea Hi ■'i 240 Fhrt Desolation; Off . \ I .* » -': of what •• outskirtere " and wandering stare of humanity sometimes see, and say, and go through. Douhtless Jack's future career would interest you, for his was a nature that could not be easily subdued. Difficulties had the effect of stirring him up to more resolute exertions. Opposition had the effect of drawing him on, instead of keeping him back. " Cold water " warmed him. " Wet blankets," when thrown on him, were dried and made hot I His energy was imtiring, his zeal red hot, and when one effort failed, he began another with as much fervour as if it were the first he had ever made. Yet Jack Robinson did not succeed in life. It would be difficult to say why. Perhaps his zeal and energy were frittered away on too many objects. Perhaps, if he had confined himself to one purpose and object in life, he would have been a great man. Yet no one could say that he was given to change, until change was forced upon him. Perchance want of judgment was the cause of all his misfortunes; yet he was a clever fellow : cleverer than the average of men. It may be that Jack's self-reliance had some- thing to do with it, and that he was too apt to trust to his own strength and wisdom, forgetting that there is One, without whose blessing man's powers can accomplish no good whatever. We know not. We Solittide in the WilderfisM, 241 do not charge Jack with this, yet this is by no means an uncommon sin, if we are to believe the confessions of multitudes of good men. Be this as it may, Jack arrrived at Fort Kamemifi- taquoia in due course, and kindly, but firmly, refused to take part with his sanguine friend, J. Murray, who proposed — ^to use his own language—" the getting-up of a great joint-stock company, to buy up all the saw- mills on the Ottawa I " Thereafter, Jack went to QuebeC; where he was joined by Teddy O'Donel, with whom he found his way to the outskirt settlements of the far west. 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By Sir Walter Scott. 20. THE ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS. 21. ROBINSON CRUSOE. By Daniel Defoe. 22. JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. By Mrs. Cbaik. 23. THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. By J. Fenimork Cooper. 24. THE SCARLET LETTEll. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. 25. THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. 26. THE BLITHEDALE ROMANCE. By Nathaniel Hawthoene. 27. ADAM BEDE. By George Eliot. 28. A TALE OF TWO CITIES. By Charles Dickens. 29. THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. By George Eliot. II la' v.' i If ur' i, If , .t, ...1 , -J James Nisbet ik Co*s List. THE PILGRIM SERIES. POPULAR EDITIONS OF STANDARD BOOKS. Crown Svo, numeroui lUustrationt, Si. each; vfith gilt edges, St. 6d. each, 1. BUNYAN'S riLCiUIMS riiOGUESS. 2. BUN VAN'S HOLY WAK. 8. FOXK'S BOOK OF MARTYRS. 4. BEN-IIUR. By Lew Wallace. 5. THE LAMPLIGHTER. By Mabia S. Cumiuns. 6. UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. By II. B. Stowk. 7. ROBINSON CRUSOE. By Daniel Defoe. 8. MY DESIRE. By Susan Warneu. 9. NOBODY. By Susan "Wauner. 10. THE FAIRCIIILD FAMILY. By Mrs. Sherwood. 11. THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON. 13. GREAT MEN. By Fredbkio Myeus. 14. LITTLE WOMEN AND GOOD WIVES. By L. M. Aloott. 15. DRAYTON HALL. By Julia Mathews. 16. THE END OF A COIL. By Susan Wauner. 18. DIANA. By Suban Warneu. 19. STEPHEN M.D. By Susan Warner. 20. MELBOURNE HOUSE. By Susan Warner. 22. THE PHYSICIAN'S DAUGHTERS. By LuoT Nelbon. 23. THE WIDE WIDE WORLD. By E. Wetherbll. 24. DAISY. By Susan Warner. 25. DAISY IN THE FIELD. By SusAN Warner. 26. NOR'ARD OF THE DOGGER. By E. J. Mathkb. 28. QUEECHY. By Susan Warner. 29. DARE TO DO RIGHT. By Julia Mathews. 30. NETTIE'S MISSION. By JoLiA Mathews. 31. Y'^OKED TOGETHER. By Ellen Davis. 32. OPENING OF A CHESTNUT BURR. By E. P. Roe. 33. ST. ELMO. By A. J. E. Wilson. 84. NAOML By Mrs. J. B. Webb. 3.5. BARRIERS BURNED AWAY, By E. P. RoB. 36. WYOH HAZEL. By Susan and A. Warner. 87. THE GOLD OF CHICKAREE. A Sequel. 38. THE OLD HELMET. By Susan Warneu. 40. GENERAL GORDON. By Major Sbton Ohurohill. la Prize and Oift Books. 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Is. 6d. each. 1. FRANK WEATHERALL. By VV. C. Metcalfjc. 2. EXPELLED. By the Author of " Dorrincourt." 3. BOX ALL SCHOOL. By the Author of " Expelled." 4. THE YOUNO MAROONEUS. By F. R. Goulding. 5. HONEST JOHN STALLIBRASS. By J. Jackson What. 6. THE YARL'S YACHT. By J. M. E. Saxbt. 7. WINNING HIS LAURELS. By F. M. Holmes. 9. THE VIKING BOYS. By J. M. E. Saxbt. 10. WATCH AND WATCH. By W. C. Metoalfb. 11. WILL IT LIFT? By J. Jackson Wrat. 12. THE YOUNG STOWAWAY. By Mrs. Geo. Corbett. 13. GARTON ROWLEY. By J. Jackson Wray. 14. THE SECRET OF THE MERE. By J. Jackson Wray. 15. PAUL MEGGIT'S DELUSION. By J. Jackson Wray. 16. A MAN EVERY INCH OF HIM. By J. Jackson Wray. 17. IVANHOE. By Sir Walter Scott. 18. THE ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS. 19. CASHIERED. By Andrew Balfour. 20. THE ROVER CARAVAN. By Gordon Stables. 21. THE LADS OF LUNDA. By J. M. E. Saxby. 22. TOM BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS. By Tom Hughes. 23. ROBINSON CRUSOE. By Daniel Defoe. 24. THE KING'S GUARDS. By R. Power Berrey. 25. 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Large crown 8vo. Ss. 6d, each. 1. THE OLOSE OF ST. CHRISTOPHER'S. By Mrs. Marshall. 2. NEW RELATIONS. A Story for Girls. By Mm. Mabbhall. 3. THOSE THREE. A Story for Girli. By Mrs. Marshall. 4. LAUREL CROWNS. By Mrs. Marshall. 5. HOUSES ON WHEELS. By Mrs. Marshall. 6. THE LADY'S MANOR. By Mrs. Marshall. 7. ONLY SUSAN. By Mrs. Marshall. 8. UNDER THE LABURNUMS. By Mrs. Marshall. 9. THE GRIM HOUSE. By Mrs. Molbsworth. 10. THE CLEVEREST WOMAN IN ENGLAND. By L. T. Meade. 12. LIZETTE. A Story for Girls. By Mrs. Marshall. 13. KATHERINE'S KEYS. By Sarah Doudnbt. 14. LADY ROSALIND. By Mrs. Marshall. 15. DEOIMA'S PROMISE. By Agnes Gibernk. 17. THE STORY OF THE LIFE OF QUEEN VICTORIA. By W. W. Tullooh. 18. SILVER CHIMES. A Story for Children. By Mrs. Marshall. 19. DAPHNE'S DECISION; or, WHICH SHALL IT BE? By Mrs. Marshall. 20. CASSANDRA'S CASKET. By Mrs. Marshall. 2L POPPIES AND PANSIBS. By Mrs. Marshall. 24. DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS. By Mrs. Marshall. 26. HEATHER AND HAREBELL. 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Findlater. 58. THE WORK OF OLIVER BYRD. By Adeline Sbrqbani. 59. POOR SONS OF A DAY. By Allan M'Aulay. 60. THE WITCH MAID. By L. T. Meadb. 61. ROMOLA. By George Eliot. 62. GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES. 63. HANS ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. G4. THE STORY OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. By Violet Bb(»okb-Humt. 25 (;|! j-i r'':! i#-^ ^ Mi 1. 2, 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. James Nisbet Jc Co.'s List. THE SCHOOL GIRL SERIES. seUeted list of stories fur Girls by well-knoum Authors. The Books are hound in dainty fashion with a full-coloured ink design. Crown 8vo, Is. 6d. TUE KOSES OF IIINGWOOD. ]]y Mrs. Marshall. HEX AND KEGINA. liy Mil. Makhhall. DULCIBEL'S DAY-DREAM. Hy Mr«. Maiwhall. THE DALKYMPLES. IJy Aonks Gibkknb. " LEAS'i' SAID, SOONEST MKNDED." I?y AoNKB GiBBRNK. NUMBER THREE WINIFRED TLACE. By AUNIS Giberne. READY? AYE KEADYI By Aoneh Gibkrnk. CROSS CORNERS. By Anna Waunkr. MISTRESS MATOIIETT'S MISTAKE. By Mrs. Marshall. ONE LITTLE VEIN OF DROSS. By Ruth Lamb. ORANFORD. By Mrs. Gaskell. OLD ORUSTYS NIECK. Bv J. Jackson What. A VERY ROUGH DIAMOND. By Florbnob Wardbn. GOOD LUCK, liy L. T. Mbadk. THAT AGGRAVATING SCI lOOL-GIRL. By Guack Stebbino. LADY TEMPLE'S GRANDCHILDREN. By Miss EvBuurr- WHAT KATY DID. By ScsAN Coolidqb. BESSIE HARRINGTON'S VKNTURB. By Julia Mathbws. THE HOME AT GRKYLOCK. By Mrs. Pkkntiss. CISSY'S TROUBLES. By " Dar^et Dale." THK GRIM HOUSE. By Mrs. Molksworth. ROMOLA. By George Eliot. ONLY SUSAN. By Mrs. Marshall. THE CHILDREN'S PILGRIMAGE. By L. T. Meadb. OLIVER TWIST. By Chas. Diokbns. GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES. "BROWN." A Story of Watbrloo Year. By Doroxhba Moore. SWEETBRIAR. By Agnes Giberne. GERALD AND DOLLY. By D'Esterrb. HANS ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALKS. BESSIE AT SCHOOL. By Joanna H. Mathews. BESSIE AT THE SEASIDE. By Joanna H. Mathews. THE SELECT SERIES. The Series is strongly recommended ; the authors hear vrU-Jcnown names ; the books are well bound ; (he excdlence and quantity of the illustrations leing a noticeable feature. Crown Svo. 2s. Gd. FROISSART IN BRITAIN. By Henry Newbolt. F. G. TAIT: A Life Record. By J. L. Low. LORD ROBERTS : A Life for Boys. By Violet Brooke-Hdnt. 4. THE CHILDHOOD OF QUEEN VICTORIA. By Mrs. Gerald Gurnet. 6. THE CATHEDRAL CITIES OF ENGLAND. By Mrs. Marshall. 6. TUDOR QUEENS AND PRINCESSES. By Sarah Tytler. 7. WESTMINSTER ABJ5P:Y. By Violet Brooke-Hunt. ON THE DISTAFF SIDE. By Gabrielle Festing. IN SHAKSPERE'S ENGLAND. By Mrs. F. S. Boas. 26 1. o 3. 8. 9. ' Prize and Gi/t Books. THE HALF HOUR LIBRARY OF TRAVEL, NATURE, AND SCIENCE. In attractive binding, and containing nearly 100 lUiutratiom in each volume. Crown Svo, St. 6d. each. Oilt edges. St. 1. HALF-HOURS ON THE QUARTER-DEOK. The SpanUh Armada to Sir Oloudtnlej Shorel, 1670. opanuu ^' ^vi^»^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^ ®^^- '^^^ barrels of the ^' ^ Woo?, m!^ '^ ^^^^^'^ ^^^ FOREST. By Rey. J. Q. ^' ^\h!'£?^^ ^^ ^°^ ^^^^' ^^^ Nature and Wealth of ^' " wS^^ ^^ ^™ ^^^^ WORLD. The Wonders of '• ^^tSo^ny^D.'^ ™^ °^^^ ^^N^- ^y NouM.. ^' °Temp?SS^^ ^^ ^^^"^^ ^^N^^^- ^'««<'' Torrid, and 8. HALF-HOURS WITH A NATURALIST. Rambles near the Seashore. By the Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A. 9. HALF-HOURS IN THE FAR NORTH. Life amid Ice and Snow. ''- ^^.J^oXs^o^ln'dl™^ ^^^ ^^^^- ^'"^"^ *^« ^-P^« -^ 12. HALF-HOURS IN WOODS AND WILDS. Adrentures of oport and Travel. 13. HALF-HOURS UNDERGROUND. Volcanoes. Mines, and Oaves. "* ^ Wr^ck^^^^ ^'^ ^*'^" ^'°"" ""^ "^°^*^''' Adventure, and 16. HALF-HOURS IN THE WIDE WEST. Over Mountains 16. HALF-HOURS IN EARLY NAVAL ADVENTURE. 27 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // V V A < •^^ ^ i WJ'.. w- 1.0 i.l 1.25 - 112.2 mm \A. 1 1.6 "c^. >' -% >■# Photographic ^Sciences Lorporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ?b V ^v \ \ <% # ^ A '"*' # /J^" >" %i^ <$> ^^ James Nishet