AW WHEN THE ROOF FELL
IN.

It was the second day of our return voyage. Mr. Rowe had been very
kind, and especially so to me. He had told us tales of seafaring life,
but they related exclusively to the Royal Navy, and not unfrequently
bore with disparagement on the mercantile marine.

Nowhere, perhaps, are grades of rank more strongly marked with
professional discipline and personal independence better combined than
in the army and navy. But the gulf implied by Mr. Rowe between the
youngest midshipman and the highest seaman who was not an officer was,
I think, in excess of the fact. As to becoming cabin-boy to a trading
vessel in hopes of rising to be a captain, the barge-master contrived
to impress me with the idea that I might as well take the situation of
boot and knife cleaner in the Royal Kitchen, in hopes of its proving
the first step towards ascending the Throne.

We seemed to have seen and done so much since we were on the canal
before, that I felt quite sentimental as we glided into Linnet Flash.

"The old place looks just the same, Barge-master," said I with a
travelled air.

"So it do, sir," said Mr. Rowe; and he added--"There's no place like
Home."

I hardly know how near we were to the town, but I know that it was
getting late, that the dew was heavy on the towing-path, and that
among the dark pencilled shadows of the sallows in the water the full
moon's reflection lay like a golden shield; when the driver, who was
ahead, stepped back and shouted--"The bells are ringing!"

When we got a little nearer we heard them quite clearly, and just when
I was observing a red glow diffuse itself in the cold night sky above
the willow hedge on our left, Mr. Rowe said, "There must be a queer
kind of echo somewhere, I heard sixteen bells."

And then I saw the driver, whose figure stood out dark against the
moonlit moorland on our right, point with his arm to the fast
crimsoning sky, and Mr. Rowe left the rudder and came forward, and
Fred, who had had his head low down listening, ran towards us from the
bows and cried,

"There _are_ sixteen, and they're ringing backwards--_it's a fire_!"

The driver mounted the horse, which was put to the trot, and we
hurried on. The bells came nearer and nearer with their fantastic
clanging, and the sky grew more lurid as they rang. Then there was a
bend in the canal, and we caught sight of the two towers of S. Philip
and S. James, dark against the glow.

"The whole town i