look like hunters waiting for their prey--nor does the hunter move
quicker to his quarry at the rustle of a leaf, than the Firemen dash
for the first ruddy glow in the sky. No sooner comes the alarm than
one sees with a shudder the rush of one of these engines through the
crowded streets--the tearing horses covered with foam--the heavy
vehicle swerving from side to side, and the black helmeted attendants
swaying to and fro. The wonder is that horses or men ever get safely
to their destination; the wonder is still greater that no one is
ridden over in their furious drive. Arrived at the place of action, the hunter's spirit which animates the
fireman and makes him attack an element as determinedly as he would a
wild beast, becomes evident to the spectator. The scene which a
London fire presents can never be forgotten: the shouts of the crowd
as it opens to let the engines dart through it, the foaming head of
water springing out of the ground, and spreading over the road until
it becomes a broad mirror reflecting the glowing blaze--the black,
snake-like coils of the leather hose rising and falling like things of
life, whilst a hundred arms work at the pump, their central heart--the
applause that rings out clear above the roaring flame as the
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