ongenial spirit. When,
therefore, he found that his utmost efforts were of no avail, and that
he was perpetually goaded, and twitted, and tweaked for every little
trifle, his spirit was set alight--as he at last remarked in confidence
to David Clazie--and all the fire-engines in Europe, Asia, Africa and
America couldn't put it out.

The dry-salter's premises seemed to have been set on fire for poor Ned's
special benefit that night. They suited his case exactly. There was
more than the usual quantity of smoke to suffocate, and fire to roast,
him. There was considerable danger too, so that the daring men of the
brigade were in request--if we may say that of a brigade in which _all_
the men were daring--and Ned had congenial work given him to do. The
proverbial meeting of Greek with Greek was mere child's play to this
meeting of fire with fire. The inflamed Ned and the blazing dry-salter
met in mortal conflict, and the result was tremendous! It made his
brother firemen stand aghast with awful admiration, to observe the way
in which Ned dashed up tottering staircases, and along smoke-choked
passages, where lambent flames were licking about in search of oxygen to
feed on, and the way in which he hurled down brick walls and hacked
through wood partitions, and tore up fir-planking and seized branch and
hose, and, dragging them into hole-and-corner places, and out upon dizzy
beams, and ridge poles, dashed tons of water in the fire's face, until
it hissed again. It was a fine example of the homoeopathic principle
that "like cures like;" for the fire in Ned's bosom did wonders that
night in the way of quenching the fire in the dry-salter's warehouse.

When this had gone on for an hour, and the fire was at its height, Ned,
quite exhausted, descended to the street, and, sitting down on the
pavement, leaned against a rail.

"If you goes on like that, Ned," said Bob Clazie, coming up to him,
"you'll bust yourself."

"I wish I could," said Ned.

At that moment, Bob's brother David came towards them with the brandy
bottle.

"Have a glass, Ned, you need it," said David.

Ned, although not a teetotaller, was one of the men who did not require
spirits, and therefore seldom took more than a sip, but he now seized
the glass, and drained it eagerly.

"Another," he cried, holding it up.

David refilled it with a look of some surprise.

Ned drained it a second time.

"Now," said he, springing up, and tightening his belt,