slumber, we at
last gave the matter up in a sort of jovial despair.

We were startled suddenly from this condition by a crash and an
exceedingly sharp and bitter cry.

It must be remarked here, that, in order to subdue King Frost in those
northern strongholds of his, we had, besides double doors and double
windows and porches, an enormous cast-iron stove from the famous Carron
foundry. It stood in the centre of our hall, so that its genial favours
might be distributed with equal justice to the various sleeping-rooms
that opened out of the hall all round. From this stove an iron pipe
arose, and, turning at a right angle when within a couple of feet of the
ceiling, proceeded to the chimney at the upper end of the hall. When
the thermometer stood much below zero, we were accustomed to raise the
stove and part of its pipe to a dull-red heat, which had the effect of
partially melting the contents of the water-jugs in our bedrooms, and of
partially roasting the knees of our trousers. To keep this stove up to
its work was the duty of an Indian youth, whom we styled Salamander,
because he seemed to be impervious to heat. He was equally so to cold.
When I first went to Dunregan I used to pity Salamander, on hearing him
every morning enter our hall with a gust of air that seemed cold enough
to freeze a walrus, and proceed to strike a light and kindle our fire.
My own nose, and sometimes an eye, was all that protruded from the
buffalo robe at such times. But Salamander never shivered, and always
grinned, from which I came to understand that my pity was misplaced.
About nine o'clock each night he left us to look after the great Carron
stove ourselves, and we were all pretty good stokers. Self-interest
kept us up to duty. Sometimes we overdid it, raising the dull-red to
brightness now and then.

On this particular occasion, in the exuberance of his feelings, Lumley,
before bursting into my room, had heaped on as much dry wood as the
stove could hold. It chanced to be exceedingly resinous wood. He also
opened the blow-hole to its utmost extent. Being congregated in my
bedroom, as I have described, deeply engaged in eager comments and
family reminiscences, we failed to observe that the great Carron stove
roared like a wrathful furnace, that it changed from a dull to a bright
red in its anger, and eventually became white with passion. As "evil
communications" have a tendency to corrupt, the usually innocent pipe
became i