“The roof couldn’t catch, young Ishmael; it is all slate.”

“Oh!” ejaculated Ishmael, as they increased their speed.  They proceeded in silence for a few minutes, keeping their eyes fixed on the burning building, when Ishmael suddenly exclaimed: 

“The house is burning inside, professor!  You can see now the windows distinctly shaped out in fire against the blackness of the building!”

“Just so, young Ishmael!”

“Now, then, professor, we must run on as fast as ever we can if we expect to be of any use.  George Washington was always prompt in times of danger.  Remember the night he crossed the Delaware.  Come, professor, let us run on!”

“Oh yes, young Ishmael, it is all very well for you to say—­run on! but how the deuce am I to do it, with the rain and wind beating this old umbrella this way and that way, until, instead of being a protection to our persons, it is a hindrance to our progress!” said the professor, as he tried in vain to shelter himself and his companion from the fury of the floods of rain.

“I think you had better let it down, professor,” suggested the boy.

“If I did we should get wet to the skin, young Ishmael,” objected Morris.

“All right, professor.  The wetter we get the better we shall be prepared to fight the fire.”

“That is true enough, young Ishmael,” admitted Morris.

“And besides, if you let the umbrella down you can furl it and use it for a walking-stick, and instead of being a hindrance it will be a help to you.”

“That is a good idea, young Ishmael.  Upon my word, I think if you had been born in a higher speer of society, young Ishmael, your talents would have caused you to be sent to the State’s legislature, I do indeed.  And you might even have come to be put on the Committee of Ways and Means.”

“I hope that is not a committee of mean ways, professor.”

“Ha, ha, ha!  There you are again!  I say it and I stand to it, if you had been born in a more elevated speer you would have ris’ to be something!”

“Law, professor!”

“Well, I do! and it is a pity you hadn’t been!  As it is, my poor boy, you will have to be contented to do your duty ’in that station to which the Lord has been pleased to call you,’ as the Scriptur’ says.”

“As the catechism says, professor!  The Scripture says nothing about stations.  The Lord in no respecter of persons.”

“Catechism, was it?  Well, it’s all the same.”

“Professor! look how the flames are pouring from that window!  Run! run!” And with these words Ishmael took to his heels and ran as fast as darkness, rain, and wind would permit him.

The professor took after him; but having shorter wind, though longer legs, than his young companion, he barely managed to keep up with the flying boy.