Robert Michael Ballantyne - Life in the Red Brigade: London Fire Brigade стр 6.

Have a glass, Joe? said one of the firemen, coming round with a bottle of brandy.

No, thank ee, said Joe, I dont 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 its 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 stimulant; 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 that day it was extinguished. The report of it, as published by the chief of the Fire-Brigade next morning, recorded that a house in Ladbroke Square, occupied by Mr Blank, a gentleman whose business was privatein other words, unknownhad 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 daybreak, when the flames first began to be mastered.

Joe was among these. He found Mary ready with a cup of hot coffee, and the rosebud, who had just awakened, ready with a kiss. Joe accepted the second, swallowed the first, stretched his huge frame with a sigh of weariness, remarked to Mary that he would turn in, and in five minutes thereafter was snoring profoundly.

Chapter Three

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.

Its cold enough yet to make a fire a very pleasant comradewen es inside the bars, observed David.

Hm, replied Crashington.

As this was not a satisfactory reply, David said so, 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; youre 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 didnt ought for to look blue.

Praps not, replied Ned, re-lighting his pipe, and 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, dye see? It aint all gold that glitters. Youve heard o that proverb, no doubt?

Well, yes, replied Clazie.

Ah. Then theres another sayin which mayhap youve heard of too: every mans got a skeleton in the cupboard.

Ive heard o that likewise, said Clazie, but it aint true; leastways, I have got no skeleton in none o my cupboards, an, wots more, if I ad, Id pitch him overboard.

But what if he was too strong for you? suggested Ned.

Why, thenI dont know, said Clazie, shaking his head.

Before this knotty point could be settled in a satisfactory 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 Crashington gave him a hearty good afternoon, and shook hands.