hour of the night, and the nature of the call. Two lines
sufficed. Then he rose, put on his helmet, and thrust a small hatchet
into his belt, just as the engine was dragged to the door of the
station.

There was something absolutely magnificent in this scene which no pen
can describe, because more than half its force was conveyed only by the
eye and the ear. The strong contrast between human excitement and
madness coupled with imbecility, and human calmness and self-possession
coupled with vigorous promptitude, was perfect.

Just before poor Hopkins rang his first note of alarm the station had
been wrapt in profound silence--the small boy's interruption having been
but a momentary affair. George Dale, the fireman in charge, was seated
at a desk in the watch-room (known among firemen as the "lobby"), making
an entry in a diary. All the other men--about thirteen in number--had
gone to their respective homes and beds in the immediate neighbourhood,
with the exception of the two whose turn it was to remain on duty all
night. These two (named Baxmore and Corney), with their coats, belts,
boots, and caps on, had just lain down on two low tressel couches, and
were courting sleep. The helmets of their comrades hung on the walls
round the room, with belts and hatchets underneath them. Several pairs
of boots also graced the walls, and a small clock, whose gentle tick was
the only sound that broke the silence of the night. In an outer room
the dim form of a spare engine could be seen through the doorway.

The instant that the bell rang, however, this state of quietude was put
to flight. The two men rose from their couches, and Dale stepped to the
door. There was no starting up, no haste in their movements, yet there
was prompt rapidity. The men, having been sailors, had been trained in
the midst of alarms. The questions which were put to Hopkins, as above
described, were rapidly uttered. Before they were answered the two men
were ready, and at Dale's order, "Get her out!" they both vanished.

One ran round the corner to the engine-house and "knocked up" the driver
in passing. The other ran from door to door of the firemen's abodes,
which were close at hand, and with a loud double-ring summoned the
sleepers. Before he got back to help the first with the engine, one and
another and another door opened, and a man darted out, buttoning braces
or coat as he ran. Each went into the station, seized his helmet, belt,