crowd, whose gaze was
concentrated now on the one figure. The throbbing of the engines was
heard distinctly when the roar of excitement was thus temporarily
checked.

As Giles moved along, the beam cracked under his great weight. The heat
became almost insupportable. His boots seemed to shrivel up and tighten
round his feet.

"He's gone! No, he's not!" gasped some of the crowd, as the tall smoke
and flame encompassed him, and he was seen for a moment to waver.

It was a touch of giddiness, but by a violent impulse of the will he
threw it off, and at the same time bounded to the window, sending the
beam, which was broken off by the shock, hissing down into the lake of
fire.

The danger was past, and a loud, continuous, enthusiastic cheer greeted
gallant Number 666 as he descended the chute with the baby in his arms,
and delivered it alive and well, and more solemn than ever, to its
mother--its _own_ mother!

When Sir Richard Brandon returned home that night, he found it
uncommonly difficult to sleep. When, after many unsuccessful efforts,
he did manage to slumber, his dreams re-produced the visions of his
waking hours, with many surprising distortions and mixings--one of which
distortions was, that all the paupers in the common lodging-houses had
suddenly become rich, while he, Sir Richard, had as suddenly become
poor, and a beggar in filthy rags, with nobody to care for him, and that
these enriched beggars came round him and asked him, in quite a
facetious way, "how he liked it!"

Next morning, when the worthy knight arose, he found his unrested brain
still busy with the same theme. He also found that he had got food for
meditation, and for discussion with little Di, not only for some time to
come, but, for the remainder of his hours.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE OCEAN AND THE NEW WORLD.

Doctors tell us that change of air is usually beneficial, often
necessary, nearly always agreeable. Relying on the wisdom of this
opinion, we propose now to give the reader who has followed us thus far
a change of air--by shifting the scene to the bosom of the broad
Atlantic--and thus blow away the cobwebs and dust of the city.

Those who have not yet been out upon the great ocean cannot conceive--
and those who have been out on it may not have seen--the splendours of a
luminous fog on a glorious summer morning. The prevailing ideas in such
circumstances are peace and liquidity! the only solid object visible
above