That worthy was peculiarly active on this occasion. He never neglected an opportunity of turning an honest penny, and, accordingly, had been engaged from an early hour in his boat collecting tallow; of which plunder a considerable amount had been already conveyed to his abode. Besides Gorman, several of the other personages of our tale found their way to the great centre of attraction, London Bridge, on that night. Among them was John Barret, who, on hearing of the fire, had left his snug little villa and pretty little wife to witness it. He had already made one or two cheap trips on one of the omnibuses, and, about midnight, got down and forced his way to a position near the south side of the bridge. Here he was attracted to a ginger-beer barrow which an unusually adventurous man had pushed through the crowd into a sheltered corner. He forced his way to it, and, to his amazement, found the owner to be his former friend Ned Hooper. "Hallo! Barret." "Why, Ned!" were the exclamations that burst simultaneously from their lips. "This is a strange occupation," said Barret with a smile. "Ah, it may seem strange to you, no doubt, but it's familiar enough to me," replied Ned, with a grin. The demand for beer was so great at this time that Ned could not continue the conversation. "Here, boy," he said to an urchin who stood near, "you draw corks as fast as you can and pour out the beer, and I'll give you a copper or two and a swig into the bargain." The boy accepted the post of salesman with alacrity, and Ned turned to his friend and seized his hand. "Barret," said he, in a low, earnest voice, "if I succeed in holding out, I own my salvation, under God, to you. I've tasted nothing but ginger-beer for many a long day, and I really believe that I have got my enemy down at last. It's not a lucrative business, as you may see," he added with a sad smile, glancing at his threadbare garments, "nor a very aristocratic one." "My dear Ned," cried Barret, interrupting, and suddenly thrusting his hand into his pocket. "No, Barret, no," said Ned firmly, as he laid his hand on the other's, arm; "I don't want money; I've given up begging. You gave me your advice once, and I have taken that--it has been of more value to me than all the wealth that is being melted into thin air, John, by yonder fire--" Ned was interrupted at this point by a burst of laughter from the crowd. The cause of their mirth was the appearance of a tall, thin, and very lugubrious-looking man who had come on the bridge to see the fire. He had got so excited that he had almost fallen over the parapet, and a policeman had kindly offered to escort him to a place of safety. "Why, what d'ye mean?--what d'ye take me for?" cried the tall man angrily; "I'm an honest man; my name is David Boone; I've only come to see the fire; you've no occasion to lay hold o' _me_!" "I know that," said the policeman; "I only want to get you out of danger. Come along now."