Upon reaching the fire communication is made between the engine and the plug or hydrant, and the work begins. The chief engineer is required to attend all fires, and all orders proceed from him. The most rigid discipline is preserved, and the work goes on with a rapidity and precision which are in striking contrast to the inefficiency of the old system.
A force of policemen is at once sent to every fire. These stretch ropes across the street at proper distances, and no one but the members of the Fire Department, who may be known by their uniforms and badges are allowed to pass these barriers. In this way the firemen have plenty of room to work, lookers on are kept at a safe distance, and the movable property in the burning building is saved from thieves.
The life of a fireman is very arduous and dangerous, and applicants for admission into the department are required to be persons of good health and good character. The men are often called upon not only to face great personal danger, but they are also subjected to a severe physical strain from loss of rest and fatigue. For a week at a time they will be called out and worked hard every night, but all the while are required to be as prompt and active as though they had never lost a night's rest. They are constantly performing acts of personal heroism, which pass unnoticed, in the bustle and whirl of busy life around them, but which are treasured up in the heart of some grateful mother, father, wife, or husband, whose loved one has been rescued from death by the fireman's gallantry.
Nor is the gallantry all on the side of the fireman. During the past year there have been numerous instances where an intrepid policeman has nobly risked his life to save some threatened fellow creature from death by fire or by drowning.
CHAPTER L.
HARRY HILL'S.
In passing the corner of Broadway and Houston street, you will see, to the east of the great thoroughfare, an immense red and blue lantern attached to a low, dingy frame building. This is the sign of Harry Hill's dance-house. It is one of the sights, and one of the saddest sights, too, of New York. As you approach the place from Broadway, you notice a narrow door at the side of the main entrance, opening upon a flight of stairs which lead to the dancing hall. This is the private entrance for women. They are admitted free of charge as their presence is the chief attraction to the men who visit the place. Passing through the main door you enter a room used as a bar room and eating saloon. It differs in nothing from the average low class bar rooms of the city. A narrow passage-way between the counters, leads to the entrance of the dancing hall, which apartment is situated on the floor above the bar room and in the rear of it. Visitors to this hall are charged an admittance fee of twenty-five cents, and are expected to order liquor or refreshments as soon as they enter.
THE PROPRIETOR.
Harry Hill is generally to be seen moving amongst his guests while the entertainment is going on. He is a short, thickset man, with a resolute, self-possessed air, and is about fifty years old. He is very decided in his manner, and is fully equal to the task of enforcing his orders. The "fancy" stand in awe of him, as they know he will follow up any command with a blow or a summary ejection from his premises. He has been in the business for twelve years, and his profits are estimated at over fifty thousand dollars a year now, clear of all expenses. He is said to be a kind, humane man, and is reputed to give largely to charitable purposes. He manages every department himself, although he has a manager to conduct affairs for him. His eye is on everybody and everything.