He was not long left in doubt. Swift as a
panther, William Trefalden swooped down upon
his man, and dealt him a short powerful blow
that sent him reeling, pale and giddy, against the
wall. It was surprising what muscles of steel
and knuckles of iron lay perdu beneath the white
superficies of that supple hand.

"Dog!" said he, fiercely, " do you dare to spy
at my heels? This is not the first time I've
suspected you; but I advise you to let it be
the last time I convict you. Ay, you may scowl
but, by the Heaven above me! if I catch you at
this game again, you'll repent it to your dying
day. There! be thankful that I let you off so
cheaply."

And having said this, William Trefalden walked
coolly away, without vouchsafing so much as a
glance to a couple of delighted boys who stood
watching the performance from the opposite side
of the street.

As for Abel Keckwitch, he recovered his
breath and his equilibrium as well as he could,
though the former was a matter of time, and
caused him to sit down, ignominiously, on the
nearest door-step. When, at length, he was in a
condition to retrace his steps, he rose, shook his
fat fist in a passion of impotent rage, and indulged
in a volley of curses, not loud but deep.

"I'll be even with you," gasped he, more
huskily than ever. "I'll be even with you, Mr.
Trefalden, if I die for it! You've something to
hide, but you shan't hide it from me. I'll know
where you live, and what you do with your
money. I'll find out the secret of your life before
I've done with you, and then let us see which
will be master!"

MORE LIGHT.

THE world may be divided into two classes
of people—those who use gas, and those who
don't. The former are grumbling a good deal,
and have grumbled for many years. They say
that gas is too dear, and that the quality is not
what it should be; that the consumers have
no sufficient hold over the companies, and
ought to be armed in some way with authority
to enforce the manufacture of good gas, to be
sold to them at a reasonable price. The non-
consumers do not understand all this. They
see that commercial bargains are being made
more and more every year without the intervention
of the government. We buy our
commodities, from steam engines down to tin tacks,
from casks of tallow down to ounces of toffy, at
such times as we like, how we like, where we
like, and at such prices as the state of the
market may determine; and we do not ask the
government to decide for us what shall be the
maximum prices to be charged by the producers.
It seems to them, the non-consumers, that it is a
retrograde policy, a return to principles of an
obsolete kind, to ask parliament to trouble itself
about Sale-of-Gas Bills.

There are, however, many curious
circumstances connected with the manufacture and sale
of gas, which place it apart from most other
commodities. There can only be a few
gasworks in one town, owing to the largeness of
the capital invested; and if too many rival
companies were allowed, on the principle of open
competition, to tear up our streets for the
purpose of laying down new gas-pipes, there would
be even more annoyance than we now suffer at
the hands of makers of railways, sewers,
telegraph wires, and pneumatic tubes. On the
other hand, gas-making is a more profitable
trade than it used to be, owing, among other
causes, to the increasing value of the refuse.

Go into any one of the great gasworks, and
see what is doing there. The main occupation is
a true distilling, the distilling of gas from coal;
and everything else is made subservient to this
process. There are oblong vessels, called
retorts, sometimes made of clay and sometimes
of iron, seven or eight feet long, by perhaps a
foot in diameter. Several of these, placed
horizontally, are packed near each other so as
to be heated by one furnace. There are coal
and coke outside the retorts, and coal inside;
the former to render the retorts red hot, and
the latter to be distilled into gas. Some of the
great works have as many as five hundred of
these retorts at work at once, in the depth of
winter, when much gas is required. Each
retort consumes about a hundred-weight of coal
in six hours; and it takes its four meals a day
with great regularity.

A little arithmetic will show what a vast
quantity of coal must thus be used in one
establishment every week, and how necessary
it is that the works should be situated near
a railway, canal, or navigable river. As the
coal in the retort is shut in from the action of
common air, it does not burn away to ashes as in
our common grates and stoves. It is distilled.
All that can ascend from it in the form of volatile
fluid, does ascend, leaving coke as the solid
residue. Once in six hours this coke is raked
out; when cooled, some of it is used to heat
the retorts, and the rest is sold to the public.
Then for the volatile fluid. This ascends from
the back of the retort through an upright pipe
into a large horizontal main; where, when
cooled, it separates into three distinct
subtances—gas, ammoniacal liquor, and tar. The
gas is a very complex one, carburetted and
sulphuretted and ammoniuretted in a perplexing
degree; it would make but a poor shine of itself
if burned in a gas-burner in this state. It
needs much purifying. It is made to pass into
purifiers containing lime or lime-water, where
it loses most of the sulphur which would otherwise
interfere with its illuminating qualities,
The lime, thus saturated with sulphur gases, is
a very disagreeable substance, as tested by our
nostrils; nevertheless, it is brought into use as a
lute or temporary cement for closing the retort
doors, as a material for mortar and for bottle-
glass making, and as manure. The gas is not
yet clean enough; it is made to pass either
through clear water, or through a solution of