But Dexter clings to London; and from
London, as from your own Africa, _semper aliquid novi_. But of Troy
during these twelve months there has been little or nothing to delate.
The small port has been enjoying a period of quiet which even the
General Election, last summer, did not seriously disturb. As you know,
the election turned on the size of mesh proper to be used in the
drift-net fishery. We wore favours of red, white and blue, symbolising
our hatred of the mesh favoured by Mr. Gladstone; and carried our man.
Had other constituencies as sternly declined to fritter away their
voting strength upon side issues, Lord Salisbury would now be in power
with a solid majority at his back.
My purpose, however, is not to talk of politics, but to give you
a short description of an event which has greatly excited us, and
redeemed from monotony (though at the eleventh hour) the year Eighteen
ninety-two. I refer to the great fire on Freethy's Quay, where Mr. Wm.
Freethy has of late been improving his timber-store with a number of
the newest mechanical inventions; among others, with a steam engine
which operates on a circular saw, and impels it to cut up oak poles
(our winter fuel) with incredible rapidity.
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