All being ready, the Superintendent mounts the engine to the right of the driver, and the engineer, foreman, and firemen mount also, and range themselves on each side of the long red chest at the top, which contains the multifarious articles just enumerated. Off they start—brisk trot—canter—gallop! A bright red gleam overspreads the sky to the westward. The Superintendent knows that the fire in the court has reached the mews, and the stables are in flames. Full gallop! Along the midnight streets, which are now all alive with excited people—some having left the theatres, others wending homeward from supper at a friend’s, from dances, or perhaps late hours of business in various trades,—all are running in the direction of the fire! As the engine thunders by them, the gas-lamps gleaming on the helmets of the firemen and the eager heads of the horses, the people send up a loud shout of ‘Fi-ire!’ and follow pell-mell in its wake. Arriving at the mews, the Superintendent sees exactly all that has happened—all that must happen—all that may happen—and all that may be prevented. The court is doomed to utter ruin and ashes; so is the mews. Two of the larger stables are on fire, and the flames are now devouring a loft full of hay and straw. But in doing this, their luminous tongues stretch far beyond, seeking fresh food when this is gone. The wind too!—the fatal wind, sets in the direction of the square! The flames are struggling, and leaping, and striving with all their might to reach the back premises of the houses on this side of the square; and reach it they will, if this wind continues!