late. In spite of the cold and stormy weather of winter he
made two or three trips to London in his collier brig, always to
report on his return a notable addition to his trade. Once, too, on
his homeward voyage, he had had himself put ashore a little north of
Spurn, and had trudged the five and twenty miles to Hull, the rising
port on the east coast. Then, after appointing an agent and starting
what seemed likely to grow into a big business, he had tramped the
hundred and twenty miles or more that separated him from Newcastle and
his home, cutting a quaint figure on the road, with his old-fashioned
hat and cloak, and his much-twisted and knotty oak stick. The result
of all this energy was that when he was in a joking mood he would say,
"We shall have to see about buying another pit, mother--Blackett's,
perhaps, as I hear they have little going on there at present."

And indeed the Blackett colliery did at that time seem to be under a
cloud. Trade fell off, and almost every week hands were discharged.
Fairburn was secretly a little afraid of mischief from these
out-of-works, especially when he himself was absent from home.

Towards the end of February England was startled by the news that King
William had been thrown from his favourite steed Sorrel, at Hampton
Court, and was lying in a precarious state, his collar-bone broken. A
week or two later came the tidings of William's death, and of the
proclamation of the Princess Anne as Queen.

The news had an extraordinary effect on Mr. Blackett. Ordering his
coach, he drove in haste to his colliery, hoisted a big flag there,
proclaimed a holiday on full pay, and sent for a copious supply of
ale. His son Matthew, who had not gone back to school at York, amused
himself and the men by firing unnumbered salvoes from a couple of
small cannon he possessed.

"Now that Billy the Dutchman is out of the way," Squire Blackett cried
exultingly, "Whiggery will soon be dead, and England will be ruled by
its rightful sovereign, who will be assisted by lords and gentlemen of
sound policy."

A huge banner was hoisted, and the Squire and his son headed a
procession to the neighbouring villages. The jubilant colliery owner
and his merry men took care to pass the Fairburn pit, with frantic
cheerings and hallooings.

"What does it all mean?" George, who was in charge in the absence of
his father, inquired of the old overlooker of the colliery.

"It means beer, George," the ancient repli