cuts Oxford Street, the
accumulation of vehicles of all sorts, from a hand-barrow to a
furniture-van, is usually very great. To one unaccustomed to the powers
of London drivers, it would have seemed nothing short of madness to
drive full tilt into the mass that blocked the streets at this point.
But the firemen did it. They reined up a little, it is true, just as a
hunter does in gathering his horse together for a rush at a stone wall,
but there was nothing like an approach to stopping.

"Hi! Hi!! Hi!!!" roared the firemen, Baxmore and Corney high above the
rest. A 'bus lumbered to the left just in time; a hansom sprang to the
right, not a moment too soon; a luggage-van bolted into Crown Street;
the pedestrians scattered right and left, and the way was clear--no, not
quite clear! The engine had to turn at a right angle here into
Tottenham Court Road. Round it went on the two off-wheels, and came
full swing on a market-gardener and a hot-coffee woman, who were
wheeling their respective barrows leisurely side by side, and chatting
as they went.

The roar that burst from the firemen was terrific. The driver attempted
both to pull up and to turn aside. The market-gardener dropt his barrow
and fled. The hot-coffee woman, being of a resolute nature, thrust her
barrow by main force on the footpath, and so saved her goods and herself
by a hairbreadth, while the barrow of her friend was knocked in pieces.
But the effort of the engine-driver to avoid this had well-nigh resulted
in serious consequences. In endeavouring to clear the market-gardener
he drew so near to the footpath that in another moment a lamp-post would
have been carried away, and the wheels of the engine, in all
probability, knocked off, had not Joe Corney observed the danger.

With a truly Irish yell Joe seized the rein next him, and pulled the
horses round almost at a right angle. The nave of the hind-wheel just
shaved the post as it flew by. The whole thing passed so swiftly that
before the market-gardener recovered from his consternation the engine
was only discernible in the distance by the sparks that flew from its
wheels as it held on in its furious way.

All along its course a momentary disturbance of London equanimity was
created. Families not yet abed rushed to their front windows, and,
looking out, exclaimed, "Ha! the firemen." Tipplers in gin-palaces ran
to the doors and said, "There they go", "That's your sort", "Hurrah, my
hearties