But, as many people know, and all may believe, running in a crowded London street is difficult—even to an expert London thief. Our Scot found that out after a sixty-yards’ run; then he had the wisdom to stop, just as a little boy leaped out of his way exclaiming—
“’Ullo, Goliah! mind w’ere you’re a-goin’ to. I wonder yer mother let you hout all alone!”
“Whar’s the fire, laddie?” demanded David, with some impatience.
“’Ow should I know, Scotty! I ain’t a pleeceman, ham I? that I should be expected to know heverythink!”
As the engine had by that time vanished, no one could tell where the fire was, and as the street had reverted to its normal condition of noise and bustle, David Laidlaw gave up the search for it. He also gave up as hopeless further search for his friend that night, and resolved to avail himself of one of those numerous establishments in the windows of which it was announced that “good beds” were to be had within.
Entering one, the landlord of which had a round jovial countenance, he ordered tea, toast, and sausages, with pen, ink, and paper. Having heartily consumed the former, he devoted himself to the latter and proceeded to write a letter. Here is the epistle:—
“Bawbylon, I dinna ken where.
“5th July 18—.
“Dear Mither—Here I am, in Lun’on, an’ wow! but it is an awfu’ place! ’Ee’ll no believe me, but I’ve been lost twa or three times a’ready, an’ I’ve had a kine o’ fecht an’ a rescue, an’ been taen to the polis office, an’ made some freens, an’ catched a thief (an’ latten ’im aff wi’ a caution an’ a wheen bawbees), an’ seen a fire-engine that lookit as if it was gawn full gallop to destruction. Ay, wumin, an’ I’ve fawn in a’ready wi’ a waux doll! But dinna ye fear, mither, I’m ower teugh to be gotten the better o’ by the likes o’ them. An’ noo I’m gawn to my bed, sae as to be ready for mair adventurs the mornin’. Ye’ll admit that I’ve done gey ’n’ weel for the first day. At this rate I’ll be able to write a story-buik when I git hame. Respecks to faither. Yer affectionate son, David.
“P.S.—The lan’lord’s just been in, an’ I’ve had a lang crack wi’ him aboot the puir folk an’ the thieves o’ this Great Bawbylon. Wow, but I am wae for them. Seems to me they have na got a chance i’ the battle o’ life. He says he’ll tak’ me to see ane o’ their low lodgin’-hooses the morn. Guid-nicht.”