He soon bethought himself of his little engine, and in a few minutes it was steaming up, with the piston-rod pumping and the wheels whizzing, and the Prince quite lost in wonder. It was a very novel and pleasant sensation to know so much more than a royal Prince, and Allan enjoyed it hugely. Looking about him for new marvels, he chanced on his printing-press. The fire-light was dying out, and it was too dark for type-setting, so he quickly struck a match and lighted the gas jet. When he turned, his guests stood stupefied and open-mouthed with most unroyal amazement.
The Prince gasped out, "Sister, did you see him set fire to a hole? Surely he did it, and with a dry splinter."
The Princess turned quite pale. "Are the walls full of fire?" she asked, anxiously, hugging baby Jamie closely.
This was, indeed, like magic to the royal pair, and, truth to tell, the young magician was nearly as much at a loss to explain the phenomenon.
"It is gas, only gas," said Allan.
"And what in the name of all the saints is this gas?" returned the Prince.
"Oh, something that is made from coal, and runs in tubes in the wall, and burns in the air like oil," said Allan. "It is not loose; it can not get out of the tubes. It is quite safe," he assured the frightened Princess, "and the dry splinter has something on the tip—phosphorus, I think—that fires when it is scraped." Thus re-assured, the royal pair amused themselves for some time drawing matches, quite like common children. After this Allan introduced his treadle press, and soon the boys were deep in the mysteries of type-setting, inking, and taking impressions. The Prince wondered greatly at a printing-press for a boy's pastime, and still more to see it revolve so rapidly.
"I once went," he said, "to see them print our London weekly. They had no treadle, for the press was worked by hand; but then they had famous printers there, and plenty of them, you see, and could send out a thousand papers in a day," and he looked to Allan for admiration.
"That was doing very well," was the calm response; "but with a treadle I could work off about twice as many myself. In our country we use steam to drive every sort of machine, and to-day our Yankee presses just buzz round, and throw about eight thousand or ten thousand newspapers an hour, all cut and folded."
"Don't! don't!" cried Prince Charlie; "that is a little faster than I can think. I am sure there can't be people enough to read so many. I should lose my breath in your fast country. What, pray, is the use of driving things like lightning? Let us try those cards; and now go slow, my man, and let me see how you do it."