These are the mute but touching memorials of the men who have died in the service; to each one belongs some heroic tale. Let us hear a few of these stories; let us endeavour to make these charred memorials speak, and tell us something of the brave deeds and thrilling tragedies connected with their silent but eloquent presence here. Listen, then, to some stories of the brigade. CHAPTER XI. SOME STORIES OF THE BRIGADE. Here are two tarnished and dented helmets of brass. They belonged respectively to Assistant-Officer Ashford and to Fourth-class Fireman Berg, who both lost their lives at the same great conflagration. About one o'clock in the early morning of December 7th, 1882, the West London policemen, stepping quietly on their beat about Leicester Square, discovered that the Alhambra Theatre was on fire. A fireman on watch within the building had made the same discovery, and with his comrade was working to subdue the flames. But they proved too strong for the men. The nearest brigade station was speedily aroused, the news telegraphed to others, and ere long several fire-engines had hurried to the spot. Quickly they were placed at different points about the building, and streams of water were thrown on the fire. But in spite of all efforts, it gained rapidly on the large structure. The position was fairly high and central, and the flames and ruddy glow in the sky were visible in all parts of London; even at that hour spectators rushed in numbers to the scene and crowded the surrounding streets. It was with difficulty that the police could prevent them from forcing themselves into even dangerous situations. The heat was intense, and as far off as the other side of the spacious square it struck unpleasantly to the face. The flames darted high in the air as if in triumph, and the huge rolling clouds of smoke became illumined by the brilliant light. Several notable buildings in the neighbourhood stood out clearly in the vivid glow as though in the splendour of a gorgeous sunset, while high amid the towering flames stood the picturesque Oriental minarets of the building as though determined not to yield. The firemen endured a fearful time. Some stood in the windows, surrounded, it seemed, by sparks of fire. Mounting fire-escapes also, they poured water from these points of vantage into the burning building. By half-past one twenty-four steam fire-engines were at work, and at that time the brigade had only thirty-five effective steamers in the force. At about two o'clock the minarets and the roof fell in with a tremendous crash, and still the flames shot upward from the basement.