THE risks and dangers that firemen face in the discharge of their duty are known to very few. The outside world the public at large - hears little or nothing of them. Fires, in a large city like New York, are of such common occurrence that the newspapers rarely give them more than a paragraphic notice; and, in fact, all accounts of fires to-day are condensed so as to occupy the smallest possible space. Of course, conflagrations of any magnitude receive their share of recognition in the columns of the daily papers; and reporters are never stinting in the praise they give the firemen for the brave and skilful work that they perform; but the fire departments throughout all our large cities are so perfectly organized to-day that the "large fire" does not often occur, and detailed accounts are therefore seldom found in the papers.

When we see a fire company dashing on its way in answer to an alarm, we stop to admire the stirring picture that they present. Instinctively we look in the direction that they are proceeding for the appearance of smoke if it be daytime, or the glare of the flames if it be at night, to indicate the location of the fire. We perhaps see none, and pass on our way; and in the whirl of city life this incident is soon forgotten. And yet this company may return with many of its members bruised and sore, while others are perhaps conveyed to near-by hospitals, mortally wounded. It is not always the fire that makes the biggest show that is the hardest to fight. The fire that goes roaring through the roof of a building, lighting up the city for miles around, is sometimes much more easily subdued than the dull, smoky cellar or sub-cellar fire that forces the men to face the severest kind of "punishment," the effects of which are felt for weeks afterward, before it is controlled.

At a sub-cellar fire that occurred one night,

a few years ago, on lower Broadway, I saw over a dozen men laid out on the sidewalk, overcome by the smoke. A gruesome sight it was, too, with the dim figures of the ambulance surgeons, lanterns in hand, working over them, and the thick smoke for a background.

These were brave fellows who had dashed in with the lines of hose, only to be dragged out afterward by their comrades, nearly suffocated by the thick, stifling smoke that poured in volumes from every opening in the basement. Over one hundred and fifty feet of "deadlights," or grating, over the sidewalk had to be broken in that night before the cellars were relieved sufficiently of the smoke with which they were charged, to allow the men to go in and extinguish the fire. This required the combined work of the crews of five hook-and-ladder companies, who broke in the iron-work with the butt-ends of their axes the hardest kind of work. But the newspapers the following morning merely gave this fire a ten- or twelve-line notice, mentioning the location and the estimated loss, and adding that "it was a severe fire to subdue." No word of the punishment and suffering the men were forced to face before this fire was under control; no mention of the dash after dash into the cellar with the heavy line of hose, only to be driven back to the street by the smoke, or to be dragged out afterward nearly unconscious; nor of the thud after thud with the heavy axes on the thick iron grating that required twenty or thirty blows before any impression could be made on it. This was muscle-straining, lungtaxing work that the average man has to face only once in a lifetime; but the firemen in a large city have it always before them; and each tap on the telegraph may mean the signal to summon them to a task that requires the utmost strength and nerve.

While speaking of cellar fires, let me relate

an incident that happened to some companies in the down-town district at a fire of this description. It occurred in Barclay street, in the sub-cellar of a crockery and glass warehouse, amid the straw used to pack the glassware. It sent forth a dense, stifling smoke, and was an ugly fire to fight. I will relate it in the rather characteristic way in which it was told me by a fireman in one of the companies that were summoned to subdue it. The story gives an idea of what the firemen in the business part of a big city may have to face at any time.

"The station came in one night at 11:30. We rolled, and found the fire in Barclay street in a crockery warehouse. Burning straw, jute, excelsior, and all that sort of stuff in the subcellar. Smoke? I never saw such smoke since I 've been in the business. We went through the building, and found the fire had n't got above the cellar. We tried to get the line down the cellar stairs, but it was no use. No one could live on that stairway for a minute. The chief then divided us up, sent out a second [a second alarm], and we sailed in to

drownd it out; 27 engine got the rear; 7 engine the stairway, to keep it from coming up; and our company, 29, got the front. We pried open the iron cellar-doors on the pavement, only to find that the elevator, used to carry freight to the bottom, had been run up to the top. Here were four inches of Georgia pine to cut through! And phew! such work in such smoke! Well, we got through this, opened it up, and out it all came! No flames, just smoke, and with force enough to suffocate a man in a second. We backed out to the gutter and got a little fresh air in our lungs, and went at it again. We brought a 35-foot ladder over from the truck and lowered it through this opening, and found we could n't touch bottom! A 45-foot ladder was put down, and only three rungs remained above the sidewalk; this showed that there was over forty feet of cellar and sub-cellar! And down in this place we had to go with the line. Well, the sooner we got at it the sooner it was over; so, shifting the line over the top rung of the ladder, so it would n't get caught, down we started.

only forty feet, but I can tell you it seemed like three hundred and forty before we got to the bottom. Of course, when we got there it was n't so bad; the smoke lifted, and gave us a corner in the cellar shaft where we could work, and we soon drove the fire away to the rear and out; but going down we got a dose of smoke we 'll all remember to our last days."

The company working in the rear fared even worse than the other. They had to descend into a narrow court only four feet wide, about twenty-five feet long (the width of the building), and forty feet deep, merely a shaft to give light and air to the cellar and sub-cellar. When the company in the front got to work, they drove the fire to the rear with such violence that this company was compelled to ascend rapidly to

the street floor to save their lives.

Next to a dangerous cellar fire nothing is more dreaded by the men than what is known in their own language as the "back-draft." This is a sudden veering of the flames, usually caused by the burning away of some portion

Axes

of the building that gives the fire renewed draft, and changes its course completely. The firemen arrive and find the whole second or third floor of a building in flames. in hand, they smash open the doors, and with the hose dash up the stairway. This is all afire, and the flames are rolling above like a red pall. With the engine at work and good pressure on the line, the battle between the two elements, fire and water, begins. Inch by inch the men fight their way up the stairway, now to retreat as the fire gains upon them, and now to advance as it rolls away for a moment. The encouraging words of the commanding officer are heard behind them urging them on: "Now, get in, boys! That 's it get inget in! Make the next landing! Hit it up, boys!" and all the other words of encouragement that he usually gives.

They finally reach the landing. They are on the floor with the fire. It rolls away from them. They drive it further back. Encouraged by their seeming victory, they drag up more of the

heavy hose to make a final dash at it, when suddenly something falls in at the rear of the fire that gives it renewed draft. It rolls toward them, an impenetrable wall of fire the deadly back-draft! Their only chance of escape is to throw themselves upon their faces, in hope that it may roll over them, or to hurl themselves down the stairs up which they have so gallantly fought their way. Better a broken leg or arm than death by roasting; and the water of fifty engines could never stay the progress of that awful wave of flame.

Many a brave fellow has lost his life in this manner; and very often all the members of a company return with their eyebrows, hair, and beard singed off, bearing evidence that they have been "ketched," as they express it, by a less terrible form of this deadly draft.

Another kind of back-draft that is greatly dreaded takes the form of an explosion, and is usually met with in fires in storage-houses and large warehouses that have been closed up tight for some time. A fire breaks out in such a building, and, as a rule, has been smoldering for some time before it is discovered. The firemen are summoned, and raising a ladder, they pry open an iron shutter or break in a door to get at the fire. The combustion going on within the building has generated a gas; and the moment the air gets to this, through the breaking open of the door or window, the mixture ignites. An explosion follows, and a portion or the whole of the front of the building is blown out. Several accidents of this kind have occurred in New York—one in a storage-warehouse in West Thirty-ninth street a few years ago, when the whole front was blown out, hurling the firemen from the ladders, and severely injuring a large number. Another accident of the same nature occurred shortly after this, in a large wholesale flour-warehouse downtown.

In this case it was supposed that particles of flour in the air inside the warehouse became ignited and exploded; but it was practically another case of the back-draft. Several firemen were maimed and injured in this

case.

Now much greater caution is exercised in "opening up" buildings of this kind when a fire breaks out in them; and to-day the back

draft is of rare occurrence, though any alarm may bring the firemen face to face with it.

The falling wall is another danger with which the firemen have to contend in fighting a fire, although it can truly be said that, like the big fire, this difficulty is not often met with to-day. Modern buildings do not crumble away as some used to in the fires of ten or fifteen years ago, and the up-to-date fire-proof building may be entirely gutted inside while the walls remain intact. It may seem strange to speak of a fire-proof building being burned out, but experience has taught the firemen not to put too much confidence in such structures, for it has been shown that many of them are really not so "fireproof" as their builders had imagined.

There are several kinds of falling walls, and the fireman of experience knows them well, and what to expect from each. There is one kind that breaks first at the bottom and comes down almost straight, somewhat like a curtain. This makes a big noise, but is not very much to be dreaded. Then there is another that bulges or "buckles" in the middle at first, and makes a sort of curve as it descends. This is a little more serious than the first, and has caused many fatalities. Then there is one that breaks at the bottom and comes straight out, reaching clear across the street, and remaining almost solid until it strikes; and, as an old-time fireman once remarked: "That 's the kind you want to dodge."

This kind of "falling wall" has caused more of the deaths in the department than any other danger the firemen have to contend with. It has killed horses as well as men, and destroyed apparatus; and it is so rapid in its descent, and covers so much space, that to escape it the men have to be quick indeed.

The advent of winter brings with it additional dangers and hardships for the firemen. Fires are much more numerous during extremely cold weather, and fire-duty is usually very trying throughout the winter months. This excess of fires can be traced to overheated furnaces and stoves, fires being built carelessly and in places not much used, and attempts made to warm apartments that it would perhaps not be necessary to heat at any other time. The fire record during an unusu