shoulder to the wheel, the fire is fairly subdued, they turn round and
point exultingly to the martoe as the Hercules that has procured the
result. On one occasion, at a fire in the village of Omura, adjoining
Yokahama, the charms and their supporters were actually licked by the
flames from the house opposite to that on which they were fixed, whose
thatched roof was pulled off while in a state of rampant ignition by
fire-coolies, who with bare hands, and no other protection than their
saturated clothing, fought with the actual fire. One plucky fellow
fell through the roof while thus employed, and, as the spectators
still shuddered at his anticipated fate, rushed out apparently
uninjured, and, re-ascending, resumed his fiery task with unabated
vigour. Although the fire-charms were triumphant on this occasion,
they did not escape unscorched, and several engines had to be kept in
constant play upon them and their supporters, to prevent the one from
ignition, and the other from being baked in their armour like crabs in
their shells.

The engines in present use are made of wood, and, though simple, are
efficient in damping the roofs of houses (which, being tiled with thin
squares of wood, are very inflammable), putting out embers, and
playing upon the firemen, who, as already indicated, prefer being
stewed to being roasted. The Japanese, however, are thoroughly aware
of the superiority of our engines, which will probably soon take the
place of their own, as the people are singularly quick in availing
themselves of anything useful.

The townspeople generally calculate on being burnt out once in every
seven years, and whenever this calamity falls upon them, no time is
lost in rebuilding. For instance, in December, 1864, a fragment of
blazing wood, from a fire which destroyed the United Service Club at