d in gymnastics, on
the third or fourth floor of a burning house, with the branch in his
hands, who is uncertain as to his means of escape, in the event of his
return by the stair being cut off, will be too much concerned about his
own safety to render much service, and will certainly not be half so
efficient as the experienced gymnast, who, with a hatchet and eighty
feet of rope at his waist, and a window near him, feels himself in
comparative security, knowing that he has the means and the power of
lowering himself easily and safely into the street"--a knowledge which
not only gives him confidence, but enables him to give his undistracted
attention to the exigencies of the fire.

It was to attend this gymnastic class that Frank now turned aside, and
proposed to bid Willie goodbye; but Willie begged to be taken into the
room. Frank complied, and the boy soon found himself in an apartment
fitted up with all the appliances of a gymnasium, where a number of
powerful young men were leaping, vaulting, climbing, and in other ways
improving their physical powers. Frank joined them, and for a long time
Willie stood in rapt and envious contemplation of the busy scene.

At first he could not avoid feeling that there seemed a good deal more
of play than business in their doings; but his admiration of the scene
deepened when he remembered the bold acts of the firemen at Beverly
Square, and recognised some of the faces of the men who had been on duty
there, and reflected that these very men, _who seemed thus to be playing
themselves_, would on that very night, in all probability, be called
upon to exert these powers sternly and seriously, yet coolly, in the
midst of scenes of terror and confusion, and in the face of imminent
personal danger.

Brooding over these things, Willie, having at length torn himself away,
hastened on his pilgrimage to London Bridge.

CHAPTER TEN.

DIFFICULTIES AND DISSIPATIONS.

In a very small office, situate in a very large warehouse, in that great
storehouse of the world's wealth, Tooley Street, sat a clerk named
Edward Hooper.

Among his familiar friends Edward was better known by the name of Ned.

He was seated on the top of a tall three-legged stool, which, to judge
from the uneasy and restless motions of its occupant, must have been a
peculiarly uncomfortable seat indeed.

There was a clock on the wall just opposite to Ned's desk, which that
young gentleman was in the habit of consul