their loss, (as few people will buy the small
coal and dust, except at breweries and
waterworks), they have adopted the plan of a
round sieve held in the hand, and filled by a
shovel. The delightful and lucrative appointment
of holding the sieve was, of course,
conferred upon Flashley. His shoulders and
arms ached as though they would drop off
long before his day's work was done; but
what he gained in especial, was the fine coal-
dust which the wind carried into his face—
often at one gust, filling his eyes, mouth,
nostrils, and the windward ear.

In the condition to which this post soon
brought his 'personal appearance,' Flashley
was one morning called up at five to go with
a waggon-load of coals a few miles into the
country, in company with two coalheavers and
a carman. Up he got. And off they went.

Flashley, having worked hard all the
previous day, was in no sprightly condition on
his early rising; so, by the time the waggon
had got beyond the outskirts of London, and
begun to labour slowly up hill with its heavy
load, he was fain to ask in a humble voice of
the head coalheaver, permission to lay hold
of a rope which dangled behind, in order to
help himself onwards. This being granted
with a smile, the good-nature of which (and
how seldom do we meet with a coalheaver
who is not a good-natured fellow) shone even
through his dust-begrimed visage, Flashley
continued to follow the waggon till he had
several times nearly gone to sleep; and was
only reminded of the fact by a stumble which
brought him with his nose very near the
ground. The head coalheaver, observing this,
took compassion on him; and being a gigantic
man, laid hold of Flashley's trowsers, and
with one lift of his arm deposited the young
man upon the top of the second tier of coal-
sacks. There he at once resigned himself to
a delicious repose.

The waggon meanwhile pursued its heavy
journey, with an occasional pause for a slight
moistening of the mouth of men and horses.
At length the removal of one or two of the
upper tier of sacks caused Flashley to raise
his drowsy head, and look round him.

The waggon had pulled up close to a garden-
gate, on the other side of which were a crowd
of apple-trees. The ripe fruit loaded the
branches till they hung in a vista, beneath
which the sacks of coals had to be carried.
All the horses had their nose-bags on, and
were very busy. It was a bright autumn day;
the sun was fast setting; a rich beam of
crimson  and gold cast its splendours over the
garden, and lighted up the ripe apples to a
most romantic degree.

The garden gates were thrown open; the
passage of coal-sacks beneath the hanging
boughs commenced.

Not an apple was knocked down, even by
the tall figure of the leading coalheaver.
Stooping and dodging, and gently humouring
a special difficulty, he performed his walk of
thirty yards, and more, till he turned the
shrubbery corner, and thence made his way
into the coal-cellar. His companion followed
him, in turn, imitating his great example;
and, if we make exception of three lemon-
pippins and a codlin, with equal success. But
where these accidental apples fell, there they
remained; none were promoted to mouth or
pocket.

It was now half-past four, and 'the milk'
arriving at the gate, was deposited in its little
tin can on a strawberry bed just beyond the
gate-post. The head coalheaver's turn with
his load being next, he observed the milk as
he approached, and bending his long legs, by
judicious gradations, till he reached the little
can with the fingers of his left hand, balancing
the sack of coals at the same time, so that not
a fragment tumbled out of the open mouth,
he slowly rose again to his right position,
holding out the can at arm's length to prevent
any coal-dust finding its way to the delicate
surface within. In this fashion, with tenfold
care bestowed on the ounce and a half in his
left hand, to that which he gave to the two
hundred weight of coals on his back (not
reckoning the sack, which, being an old and
patched one, weighed fifteen pounds more)
the coalheaver made his way, stooping and
sideling beneath the apple-boughs as before,
all of which he passed without knocking a
single apple down, and deposited the little
can in the hands of an admiring maidservant,
as he passed the kitchen window on
his way to the coal-cellar.

After the sacks had all been shot in the
cellar, and the hats of each man filled with
apples by the applauding master of the house,
the counting of the empty sacks commenced.
Having been thrice exhorted to be present at
this ceremony by a wise neighbour, who stood
looking on anxiously, from the next garden,
with his nostrils resting on the top of the
wall, the owner of the apple garden went
forth to the gate, and with a grave countenance
beheld the sacks counted. Orders
for beer being then given  on the nearest
country alehouse, the coalheavers carefully
gathered up all the odd coals which had fallen
here and there, then swept the paths, and
with hot and smiling visages took their
departure, slowly lounging after the waggon
and stretching their brawny arms and backs
after their herculean work.

As the men thus proceeded down the winding
lane, crunching apples, and thinking of beer
to follow, the carman was the first to speak.

'How cute the chap was arter they sacks!'
said he with a grin, and half turning round to
look back.

'There's a gennelman,' said the head coalheaver,
'as don't ought to be wronged out of
the vally of that!' the amount in question
being a pinch of coal-dust which the speaker
took up from one side of the waggon, and
sprinkled in the air.

'He allus gives a ticket for beer,' said the