Has anybody ever reflected on how difficult it must be to get a
chimney swept without ever a sweep or even a brush? Luckily our
chimneys were short and wide, and we used a good deal of wood; so in
three years the kitchen chimney only needed to be cleansed twice.
The first time it was cleared of soot by the simple process of being
set on fire, but as a light nor'-wester was blowing, the risk to the
wooden roof became very great and could only be met by spreading wet
blankets over the shingles. We had a very narrow escape of losing
our little wooden house, and it was fortunate it happened just at
the men's dinner hour when there was plenty of help close at hand.
However great my satisfaction at feeling that at last my chimney had
been thoroughly swept, there was evidently too much risk about the
performance to admit of its being repeated, so about a year
afterwards I asked an "old chum" what I was to do with my chimney.
"Sweep it with a furze-bush, to be sure," she replied. I mentioned
this primitive receipt at home, and the idea was carried out a day
or two later by one man mounting on the roof of the house whilst
another remained in the kitchen; the individual on the roof threw
down a rope to the one below, who fastened a large furze-bush in the
middle, they each held an end of this rope, and so pulled it up and
down the chimney until the man below was as black as any veritable
sweep, and had to betake himself, clothes and all, to a neighbouring
creek. As for the kitchen, its state cannot be better described
than in my Irish cook's words, who cried, "Did mortial man ever see
sich a ridiklous mess? Arrah, why couldn't ye let it be thin?" But
for all that she set bravely to work and got everything clean and
nice once more, merely stipulating that the next time we were going
to sweep chimney we should let her know beforehand, that she might
go somewhere "right away."