{148} On the 24th April 1885 a fire broke out in an oil-monger’s house in the Borough. The inmates were the oil-monger, his wife, four children, and Alice, the servant-of-all-work. She came to the window as soon as the alarm was raised and shouted for help. Before the fire brigade arrived the whole building was in flames. The people in the street called to her to jump and held out clothes to break her fall, but she went back and presently reappeared dragging a feather bed with her, which she pushed out. It was instantly extended below, and Alice fetched one of the children and threw it most carefully down. It was saved, and two other children also were saved by her in the same way. By this time it was evident that the suffocating fumes were beginning to affect her, for her aim with the last two was not steady. The crowd implored her to leap, but it was too late. She could not make a proper spring and fell on the ground. Five minutes afterwards the engines and fire-escape appeared. She was picked up and died in Guy’s Hospital. I begged her portrait from her brother. It is not remarkable. That, perhaps, is the best thing that can be said about it. It is a pleasant, brave face—a face that you might see a dozen times on a Sunday afternoon.—M. R. {205} The references are to the first edition, that of 1793. {250} Even this word disappears in the Revised Version, where the Greek is translated ‘reviling Him.’ {254} The vulgar is the wiser, because it is but as wise as it must needes.—(Florio’s translation.)