Amidst these vociferations, the Superintendent, having a well-practised deaf ear for such pieces of advice, has despatched two firemen to ascend the stairs (no fireman is allowed to enter a burning house alone) while two others enter below, and a lengthened hose is handed up to them with a boat-hook through the front drawing-room window, in order to combat the fire at close quarters, each one being accompanied by another fireman, in case of one fainting from heat or smoke, and meantime to assist in getting out furniture from the rooms not yet touched by the flames. The two foremost firemen have now ascended the stairs. One remains on the second-floor landing, to watch, and give notice if their retreat is likely to be cut off, while the other ascends to the upper room where the poor old servant had been last seen. The room is quite full of smoke. He therefore drops down directly with his face almost touching the floor (because, as the smoke ascends, he thus gets ten or twelve inches of clear space and air), and in this way creeps and drags himself along till he sees a bundle of something struggling about, which he at once recognises, seizes, and drags off as quickly as possible. Almost exhausted, he meets his comrade on the stairs, who instantly giving aid, they bring down a little white, smutty, huddled-up bundle, with a nightcap and arms to it; and as they emerge from the door, are greeted with shouts of applause, and roars and screams of ‘Bravo! Bravo! God bless ’em! Bravo!’ from voices of men, and women, and boys. The old woman presently comes to herself. She holds something in one hand, which she had never loosed throughout, though she really does not know what it is. ‘At all events,’ says she, ‘I’ve saved _this_!’ It is a hearth-broom. The two firemen, each bearing a hose, have now got a position inside the house—one standing on the landing-place of the second-floor within ten or twelve feet of the flames, the other planted in the back drawing-room. The first directs his nozzle so that the water strikes with the utmost force upon the fire, almost in a straight line, dashing it out into black spots, and flaws, and steam, as much by the violence of the concussion as the antagonistic element. The other fireman directs his jet of water to oppose the advances of the flames from the rafters of the stables behind, and the wood-work of the back premises. Both the men are enveloped in a cloud of hot steam, so hot as scarcely to be endurable, and causing the perspiration to pour down their faces as fast as the water runs down the walls from the vigorous ‘playing of their pipes.’ But next door—to the right—what a long succession of drawing-room and dining-room chairs issue forth, varied now and then with a dripping hamper of choice wine, and the sound of cracking bottles; now, with a flattened cradle, now a tea-tray of richly-bound books; now, a turbot-kettle, and then more chairs!