deafening shout goes forth, as the huge fire-escape comes full swing upon the scene:  a moment’s pause, and all is still, save the beat, beat, of the great water pulses, whilst every eye is strained towards the fluttering garments flapping against the wall.  Will the ladder reach, and not dislodge those weary hands clutching so convulsively to the hot stone?  Will the nimble figure gain the topmost rung ere nature fails?  The blood in a thousand hearts runs cold, and then again break forth a thousand cheers to celebrate a daring rescue.  Such scenes as this are of almost nightly occurrence in the Great Metropolis.  A still more imposing yet dreadful sight is often exhibited in the conflagrations of those vast piles of buildings in the City filled with inflammable merchandise.  Here the most powerful engines seem reduced to mere squirts; and the efforts of the adventurous Brigade men are confined to keeping the mischief within its own bounds.

When we recollect that London presents an area of 36 square miles, covered with 21,600 square acres of bricks and mortar, and numbers more than 380,000 houses; that all the riches it contains are nightly threatened in every direction by an ever-present enemy; that the secret match, the spontaneous fire, and the hand of the drunkard, are busily at work, it is evident that nothing but a force the most disciplined, and implements the most effective, can be competent to cope with so sudden and persevering a foe.

As late as twenty-two years ago there was no proper fire police to protect the Metropolis against what is commonly called the “all-devouring element.”  There was, it is true, a force of 300 parochial engines set on foot by Acts which were passed between the years 1768-74—­Acts which are still in existence—­but these engines are under the superintendence of the beadles and parish engineers, who are not the most active of men or nimble of risers.  It may easily be imagined, therefore, that the machines arrived a little too late; and, when brought into service, were often found to be out of working order.  Hence their employment did not supersede the private engines kept by some of the insurance offices long prior to their existence.  On the contrary, owing to the increase of business which took place about this time, the different companies thought it worth their while to strengthen their former establishments, and this process continued while the parochial engines, with a few honorable exceptions, were dropping into disuse.

About the year 1833 it became evident that much was lost, both to the public and to the insurance companies, by every engine acting on its own responsibility—­a folly which is the cause of such jealousy among the firemen at Boston (United States), that rival engines have been known to stop on their way to a fire to exchange shots from revolvers.  It was therefore determined to incorporate the divided force, and place it under the management of one superintendent, each office contributing towards its support, according to the amount of its business.  All the old established companies, with one exception,[*] shortly came into the arrangement, and Mr. Braidwood, the master of the fire-engines of Edinburgh, being invited to take the command, organized the now celebrated London Fire Brigade.