[A DANGEROUS PLAYTHING.]
BY CHARLES LEDYARD NORTON.
Ever since Meg laid her hand on a moderately warm stove, when she was learning to walk, she has been very much afraid of fire, and no one in the house is in the least anxious about her playing with matches, for she could not be hired to do such a thing at any price. Indeed, it was thought a very remarkable event when, having reached the advanced age of seven years, she consented to take one of the long tapers made for the purpose and light the gas in hall and sitting-room.
Her mother was glad to have her do this, thinking that it would make her careful, and at the same time teach her not to be overtimid. And so it did, but not in the way mamma expected; for one evening, as Meg carried her taper under the portière, what should she do but set the fringe on fire!
Seeing that Meg had all her life been in mortal dread of just such an accident, it was very brave in her, without an instant's hesitation, to brush the fire out with her two little hands. She did not even scream, but she was very pale and "trembly" when she went to mamma in the library, and showing her besmirched hands, said, "It's all over, mamma, but I 'most set the house on fire." Sure enough, the fringe, scorched for a distance of two or three feet, proved that it was a narrow escape.[2]
Upon the whole, it would be well if all young people were as much afraid of fire and of matches—the cause of fire—as Meg was. Many a family has had to run for their lives out into the dark night because some heedless youngster saw fit to take this dreadful creature, fire, for a playmate.
RESCUED FROM THE FLAMES.
Our artist actually witnessed the incident which he has so cleverly drawn. The flames had seized on the lower stairways and stories of the house, so that escape was impossible for the mother and child on the fourth floor. No ladder could be procured, so one of the most active of the firemen climbed from one window to another, by the help of sashes and blind fixtures, until he reached the frightened pair. Others followed him, stationing themselves in the lower windows. A mattress was brought out, and held by a score of strong arms under the windows.
Baby must go first, though mamma could hardly bear to have him leave her arms; and perhaps the fireman had to be a little rough before he made her loose her hold. It was simple enough to deal with him, however, and he scarcely had time to squall and kick, so deftly was he passed down, first to the man standing in the window below, then to the one who sat on the sill, and finally dropped into the mattress.