us snatched it from the empyrean. Fire in my grate is as fierce
and terrible a thing as when it was lit by my ancestors, night after
night, at the mouths of their caves, to scare away the ancestors of my
dog. And my dog regards it with the old wonder and misgiving. Even in
his sleep he opens ever and again one eye to see that we are in no
danger. And the fire glowers and roars through its bars at him with the
scorn that a wild beast must needs have for a tame one. 'You are free,'
it rages, 'and yet you do not spring at that man's throat and tear him
limb from limb and make a meal of him! 'and, gazing at me, it licks its
red lips; and I, laughing good-humouredly, rise and give the monster a
shovelful of its proper food, which it leaps at and noisily devours.

Fire is the only one of the elements that inspires awe. We breathe air,
tread earth, bathe in water. Fire alone we approach with deference. And
it is the only one of the elements that is always alert, always good to
watch. We do not see the air we breathe--except sometimes in London,
and who shall say that the sight is pleasant? We do not see the earth
revolving; and the trees and other vegetables that are put forth by it
come up so slowly that there is no fun in watching them. One is apt to
lose patience with the good earth, and to hanker after a sight of those
multitudinous fires whereover it is, after all, but a thin and
comparatively recent crust. Water, when we get it in the form of a
river, is pleasant to watch for a minute or so, after which period the
regularity of its movement becomes as tedious as stagnation. It is only
a whole seaful of water that can rival fire in variety and in
loveliness. But even the spectacle of sea at its very best--say in an
Atlantic storm--is less thrilling than the spectacle of one building
ablaze. And for the rest, the sea has its hours of dulness and
monotony, even when it is not wholly calm. Whereas in the grate even a
quite little fire never ceases to be amusing and inspiring until you
let it out. As much fire as would correspond with a handful of earth or
a tumblerful of water is yet a joy to the eyes, and a lively suggestion
of grandeur. The other elements, even as presented in huge samples,
impress us as less august than fire. Fire alone, according to the
legend, was brought down from Heaven: the rest were here from the dim
outset. When we call a thing earthy we impute cloddishness; by 'watery'
we imply insipidness; 'airy'