relaxation of speed until, panting and breathless,
they reached the bridge. Here, at a
signal from my companion, they took up their
station silently, and so far under the shadow of
one of the toll-houses as to be out of sight of
the coming horse and steam-engines. This was
scarcely done, when the now familiar "Hi, hi,
hi!" mingled with the heavy tramp of horses' feet
and the swiftly approaching lamps, were seen to
turn the corner and descend the hill, then
cross the valley up which Thames-street runs,
and gallop up at railway speed to where we
stood. The scene now became infinitely
exciting. The alarm had spread, and engine after
engine came up. Faster than we could note,
the swiftly gleaming lamps multiplied, and the
wild mingling of men's voices and the clamp
from horses' feet went on. But there was
wonderful method in it all; and as each engine
came up, it filed off into the shadow of the
bridge. There was neither questioning from, nor
explanation to the men called out on duty. My
companion simply stepped out of the shadow
into the middle of the road, and signalled with
both arms, "Stop!" when the excitement
dropped, and the horses and engine were drawn
up at the place directed, as if being summoned
fruitlessly were in the regular course. The
policemen were slow messengers, and we learnt
afterwards that the huge steam-engine started
fully equipped from Watling-street in two
minutes and twenty seconds after the call.

"Hi, hi, hi!" on another night along Holborn,
down a narrow turning from Gray's Inn-lane,
over the hollow leading to the prison, and up
the ascent at a hand-gallop on the other side.
No false alarm or provoking "Stop!" this time,
for the full blaze of a burning house is seen
against the dark sky, shooting up a perfect
rocket of oddly shaped sparks and stars; then
leaping into a flame, like the golden fountain
exhibited years ago at an emporium of science
now defunct; then sullenly sinking down, as if
offended at the streams of cold water consistently
poured into its midst. Such are our
first impressions of the fire. The crowd is in a
dense line, stretching from the prison to the
opposite side of the road. Beyond the close
border formed by it is a huge open space, like
an impromptu market-place, in which hose and
enginemen, firemen, turncocks, and policemen
are already at work. The duty of the latter
seems to be confined to keeping the crowd in
an unbroken line, and it is discharged with
wonderfully little difficulty. Beyond the blazing
house and down the turning leading to Farringdon-
street is a second human wall; and the
opposite corner, where Exmouth-street and another
turning join, is similarly hemmed in. After we
have dismounted, and are strolling round the
place preserved, it becomes curious to note how
even the roughest portion of the crowd does not
attempt to trespass across the imaginary line
chalked down. Jostling, pushing, and a little
genial horse-play are discernible in the hinder
ranks; but the men and women in front stand
shoulder to shoulder as firmly as, perhaps more
firmly than volunteers on parade. We have
passed through this living wall, which opened
for us at our approach, and closed again in its
old position directly we were through. A
passing thought of "the waters which miraculously
formed a wall upon the right hand and
upon the left" for the children of Israel was
suggested by the sea of faces tiding to and fro;
but no pursuing Pharaoh followed, and the
scene before us soon engrossed our full attention.
At this time the house we had come to see
was one mass of flame. From each of its
windows, as well as from roof and doorway, a
fierce strong blaze shot forth, making the
large enclosed space hot, and lighting up the
firemen's figures, until their brightly polished
helmets looked, as they moved rapidly in and
out the darkness, like gaudy beetles of gigantic
size assembled in conclave before proceeding to
some butterfly's ball. Everything was
surprisingly quiet, and as unlike the famous stage
representation of a house on fire as could well
be possible. One engine was pumping away
merrily at the corner of Exmouth-street; another
stood idle by the pavement skirting the prison,
and exactly opposite the burning house; a
third was at the Farringdon-road corner; while
a red waggon of the London Salvage Corps,
and a stray volunteer engine, stood at the side
nearest Gray's Inn-lane. The house was empty,
and the property of a railway company. Neither
lives nor valuables were to be saved, and the
full energy of hose and men was directed to
quelling the fire before it should spread to the
inhabited house at its side, or to the human
warrens lying between it and the rotten old
workhouse behind. If the inmates of that
crazy edifice could only have been removed and
provided for in safety, how ardently one would
have longed that the fire might defeat its sturdy
assailants, and progress until it swept up the
noisome dens and cellars, unwholesome wards,
and cramped old rooms and staircases in and up
which the Clerkenwell paupers are packed!

"Are we sure to get it under before it
catches the next house?" repeated the driver of
the engine which was standing stationary and
useless, exactly opposite the fire. "Well, it's
difficult to say just yet; but, from what I see of
it, it would not surprise me if the whole place
came down with a run before many minutes are
over." The flames were now stretching half
way across the road, sent a hot breath into our
faces, and, at half a dozen paces nearer, had
given beard and hair that dry wispy feel which
precedes actual singeing. At this time, the
only sounds were the crackling and subdued
roar of the burning timbers, the monotonous
pump, pump, of the engine to the left, and the
rush and hiss of the water from the hose. The
people in the crowd drew deep gasps of delight
as the fire seemed to make way, just as at a
display of fireworks. The foremen, who are
easily recognised by their metal shoulder-straps,
gave an occasional word to their men; and the
fire and its attendants went on in what seemed
to be a prescribed routine. Had it all been