Fighting the FlamesBallantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael)
General
Fighting the Flames
Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael)
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Fire fighters -- Juvenile fiction; London Fire Brigade -- Juvenile fiction
"Then, again," continued Mr Tippet, becoming more and more enthusiastic
as he observed the deep impression his explanations were making on
Willie, who stood glaring at him in speechless amazement, "here you have
my improved sausage-machine for converting all animal substances into
excellent sausages. I hold that every animal substance is more or less
good for food, and that it is a sad waste to throw away bones and hair,
etcetera, etcetera, merely because these substances are unpalatable or
difficult to chew. Now, my machine gets over this difficulty. You cut
an animal up just as it is killed, and put it into the machine--hair,
skin, bones, blood, and all--and set it in motion by turning on the
galvano-hydraulic fluid. Delicious sausages are the result in about
twenty minutes.
"You see my dog there--Chips I call him, because he dwells in the midst
of chips and shavings; he sleeps upon chips, and if he does not exactly
eat chips, he lives upon scraps which have a strong resemblance to them.
The cat has no name. I am partial to the time-honoured name of `Puss.'
Besides, a cat is not worthy of a name. Physically speaking, it is
only a bundle of living fur--a mere mass of soft animated nature, as
Goldsmith would express it. Intellectually it is nothing--a sort of
existent nonentity, a moral void on which a name would be utterly thrown
away. Well, I could take these two animals, Chips and Puss, put them in
here (alive, too, for there is a killing apparatus in the instrument
which will effectually do away with the cruel process of slaughtering,
and with its accompanying nuisances of slaughter-houses and butchers)--
put them in here, I say, and in twenty minutes they would be ground up
into sausages.
"I know that enemies to progress, ignorant persons and the like, will
scoff at this, and say it is similar to the American machine, into one
end of which you put a tree, and it comes out at the other end in the
shape of ready-made furniture. But such scoffs will cease, while my
invention will live. I am not bigoted, William. There may be good
objections to my inventions, and great difficulties connected with them,
but the objections I will answer, and the difficulties I will overcome.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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