coke or coke-dust, affects the market at times
as a rival; but fine coal, or coal-dust, never,
because it would spoil the bricks.

As one of the heroes of our tale had been
originally––before his promotion––a chimney-
sweeper, it may be only appropriate to offer a
passing word on the genial subject of soot.
Without speculating on its origin and parentage,
whether derived from the cooking of a
Christmas dinner, or the production of the
beautiful colours and odours of exotic plants
in a conservatory, it can briefly be shown to
possess many qualities both useful and
ornamental.

When soot is first collected, it is called
"rough soot," which, being sifted, is then
called " fine soot," and is sold to farmers for
manuring and preserving wheat and turnips.
This is more especially used in Herefordshire,
Bedfordshire, Essex, &c. It is rather a costly
article, being fivepence per bushel. One
contractor sells annually as much as three
thousand bushels; and he gives it as his opinion,
that there must be at least one hundred and
fifty times this quantity (four hundred and
fifty thousand bushels per annum) sold in
London. Farmer Smutwise, of Bradford,
distinctly asserts that the price of the soot he
uses on his land is returned to him in the
straw, with improvement also to the grain.
And we believe him. Lime is used to dilute
soot when employed as a manure. Using it
pure will keep off snails, slugs, and
caterpillars, from peas and various other vegetables,
as also from dahlias just shooting up, and
other flowers; but we regret to add that we
have sometimes known it kill, or burn up, the
things it was intended to preserve from
unlawful eating. In short, it is by no means so
safe to use for any purpose of garden manure,
as fine cinders and wood-ashes, which are
good for almost any kind of produce, whether
turnips or roses. Indeed, we should like to
have one fourth or fifth part of our garden-
beds composed of excellent stuff of this kind.
From all that has been said, it will have
become very intelligible why these Dust-
heaps are so valuable. Their worth, however,
varies not only with their magnitude (the
quality of all of them is much the same),
but with the demand. About the year
1820, the Marylebone Dust-heap produced
between four thousand and five thousand
pounds. In 1832, St. George's paid Mr.
Stapleton five hundred pounds a year, not to
leave the Heap standing, but to carry it away.
Of course he was only too glad to be paid
highly for selling his Dust.

But to return. The three friends having
settled to their satisfaction the amount of
money they should probably obtain by the sale
of the golden miniature-frame, and finished
the castles which they had built with it in
the air, the frame was again enfolded in
the sound part of the parchment, the rags
and rottenness of the law were cast away,
and up they rose to bend their steps homeward
to the little hovel where Peggy lived,
she having invited the others to tea that they
might talk yet more fully over the wonderful
good luck that had befallen them.

"Why, if there isn't a man's head in the
canal! " suddenly cried little Jem. " Looky
there!––isn't that a man's head ?––Yes; it's
a drowndedd man?"

"A drowndedd man, as I live! " ejaculated
old Doubleyear.

"Let's get him out, and see!" cried Peggy.
"Perhaps the poor soul's not quite gone."

Little Jem scuttled off to the edge of the
canal, followed by the two old people. As
soon as the body had floated nearer, Jem got
down into the water, and stood breast-high,
vainly measuring his distance with one arm
out, to see if he could reach some part of the
body as it was passing. As the attempt was
evidently without a chance, old Doubleyear
managed to get down into the water behind
him, and holding him by one hand, the boy
was thus enabled to make a plunge forward
as the body was floating by. He succeeded
in reaching it; but the jerk was too much
for the weakness of his aged companion, who
was pulled forwards into the canal. A loud
cry burst from both of them, which was yet
more loudly echoed by Peggy on the bank.
Doubleyear and the boy were now struggling
almost in the middle of the canal with the
body of the man swirling about between
them. They would inevitably have been
drowned, had not old Peggy caught up a long
dust-rake that was close at hand—scrambled
down up to her knees in the canal—clawed
hold of the struggling group with the teeth
of the rake, and fairly brought the whole to
land. Jem was first up the bank, and helped
up his two heroic companions; after which,
with no small difficulty, they contrived to
haul the body of the stranger out of the
water. Jem at once recognised in him the
forlorn figure of the man who had passed by
in the morning, looking so sadly into the
canal, as he walked along.

It is a fact well known to those who work
in the vicinity of these great Dust-heaps, that
when the ashes have been warmed by the sun,
cats and kittens that have been taken out of
the canal and buried a few inches beneath the
surface, have usually revived; and the same
has often occurred in the case of men.
Accordingly the three, without a moment's
hesitation, dragged the body along to the
Dust-heap, where they made a deep trench,
in which they placed it, covering it all over
up to the neck.

"There now," ejaculated Peggy, sitting
down with a long puff to recover her
breath, " he 'll lie very comfortable, whether
or no."

"Couldn't lie better," said old Doubleyear,
"even if he knew it."

The three now seated themselves close by,
to await the result.

"I thought I'd a lost him," said Jem, "and