what was light as feathers.

"I must be gentle," he said quietly, as he thrust the poker lower, till
he could gently tap the bottom of the pot.

"It's quite sound," he said, as he gave the poker a stirring motion and
ended by withdrawing it.

"I think we may let out the fire," he said; and we proceeded to bear
away the slates we had used for screens, and then to take down the
glowing bricks one by one, and toss them into the yard.

This done, I proposed throwing a bucket of water over the heap of
embers, in the midst of which stood the pot.

"No, thank you, young wisdom," said Doctor Chowne. "I should like to
have some result to show your father when he comes back. If you did
what you say, the pot would fly all to pieces, and where would our work
be then?"

"I say, Doctor Chowne," I said, looking at him rather wistfully, "I wish
I knew as much as you do."

"Learn then," he said. "I did not know so much once upon a time."

As he spoke, he slowly and carefully drew the ashes down from about the
pot, and as they were spread about the brilliant glow began to give
place to a pale grey feathery ash, which flushed red, and then yellow,
whenever the air was disturbed, while the earthen pot that had been
red-hot changed slowly to a dull drab.

"There, Sep," said the doctor, "that pot will take pretty well an hour
to get thoroughly cool, so we may as well go and have some dinner. What
do you say?"

"I was thinking, sir," I said, "that if there is any metal in that pot
now, it would be something like the lead when we are casting sinkers for
fishing. Why couldn't we lift the pot with the tongs, and pour out
what's at the bottom and run it into a mould."

"Have you got a mould, Sep?" he said.

"Yes, sir; three different sizes--up here on the shelf."

I went to a corner of the back kitchen, and reached down three dusty
clay moulds, one of which the doctor took and set upon the floor.

"You are right," he cried. "There, take your tongs, and we'll catch
hold of the pot together, and set it out here. Then, both together,
mind, we'll pour out what there is into the mould."

It was easy enough. We each got a good hold of the pot, lifted it out
with its glowing feathery charcoal ashes half filling it, and then,
after setting it down to get a more suitable hold, we tilted it
sidewise, and then more and more and more, but nothing came out save
some glowing ashes, which fell beyond the mould in a tiny heap.

"Highe