little Jim was sleeping as sound as a top in his crib,
and Mrs Thorogood, with her knitting, joined the others at the fire, by
the light of which the blacksmith made a little boat for Harry with a
gully knife and a piece of stick.

"It's a stormy night," said Mrs Thorogood, as a violent gust of wind
came down the chimney and rattled the window-frames.

"Ah, it was on just such a night that, my dear old father and mother
were burnt out of house and home," said the blacksmith; "well do I mind
about it, for I was over ten years old at the time. We never found out
what it was that set the house alight, but when it had once caught, it
fetched way like lightning--the wind was so high. The first thing that
woke me was sneezin' wi' the smoke. Then, I'd just opened my eyes when
I saw the head of a ladder come crash through the window. It was the
fire-escape. Father tried to save mother, but he was lame, and fell
down half-choked. I tried to help him, but I was too young. Then a
strapping fireman stepped in at the window, as cool as a cucumber,
pitched us all into the escape, one after another; and so, through God's
mercy, we were saved. I've loved the firemen ever since. They are the
boys to show you how to do things well; to do things with might and
main, and no fuss, and to submit to discipline without a word."

"Oh, father!" cried Harry with blazing eyes, "I should dearly like to be
a fireman, an' go fightin' the flames."

"And Dick?" asked Mrs Thorogood, "wouldn't _you_ like to be one, too?"

"No, mother. It's very grand, but I don't like smoke. I'd rather be a
lifeboat-man, to fight wi' the storm, and save people from the roarin'
waves."

Tom glanced at one of his toy ships, and said he'd like to fight the
battles of his country on the sea. Bob looked affectionately at a
wooden sword and gun which stood in a corner, and thought he'd prefer to
fight _his_ battles on the land.

"You're all for fighting, I see," chimed in soft-eyed Molly; "I wonder
what little Jim would like to be, if he was awake."

"I know what battles _I_ would like to see him fighting," said Mrs
Thorogood.

"Why," exclaimed the blacksmith in surprise, "I thought you hated
fighting of all kinds?"

"No, not all kinds. I should like to see little Jim fighting the battle
of the Prince of Peace."

Of course there was a clamorous questioning as to what that meant, but
we must not devote space to this subject. Neither can we afford to