‘Of all the rallying words,’ says a writer in Charles Knight’s “London,” ‘whereby multitudes are gathered together, and their energies impelled forcibly to one point, that of “_Fire!_” is, perhaps, the most startling and the most irresistible. It levels all distinctions; it sets at nought sleep, and meals, and occupations, and amusements; it turns night into day, and Sunday into a “working-day;” it gives double strength to those who are blessed with any energy, and paralyses those who have none; it brings into prominent notice, and converts into objects of sympathy, those who were before little thought of, or who were, perhaps, despised; it gives to the dwellers in a whole huge neighbourhood the unity of one family.’ But even while we are trimming our midnight lamp to write this paper, the cry of ‘Fire!’ suddenly resounds from a distant street. The heavy boots of a policeman clatter along beneath our window. The cry is repeated by several voices, and more feet are heard hurrying along. The fire is in a squalid court, leading into a mews which runs close to the backs of the houses of one side of a great square. We hastily struggle into an overcoat, snatch up a hat, and issue forth to follow the alarming cry. The tumult sounds in the court; the cry of ‘Fire!’ is wildly repeated in a woman’s voice from one of the windows of the mews; now from another window!—now from several. ‘Fire! fire!’ cry voices of many passengers in streets, and away scamper the policemen to the nearest stations of the Fire Brigade, passing the word to other policemen as they run, till all the police force in the neighbourhood are clattering along the pavement, some towards the scene of the fire, but most of them either towards an engine-station, to one of the Fire-escapes of the Royal Society, or to pass the word to the policeman whose duty it will be to run to the engine-station next beyond. By this means of passing the word, somebody arrives at the gates of the Chief Office of the Fire Brigade, in Watling Street, and, seizing the handle of the night-bell, pulls away at it with the vigour which such events always call forth.