The Sun.
London, England, 1861-06-24 00:00:00

THEI SUN, LONDON, MONDAY EVENING, JUNE 24, 1861.

of the very able subordinates of the late Chief In-

spector of the London Fire Brigades, lieutenants of
his as we may call them, upon whom abruptly fell,
at the moment of his calamitous death by accident,
a divided responsibility. It is to the circumstance
of the responsibility becoming thus divided
so soon as Mr. Inspector BRAIDWOOD had fallen a
victim to his own heroic and humane exertions—it
is to that one lamentable and, as it happened, un-
avoidable confusion, consequent upon this deplor-
able casualty, that we are constrained to attribute
the fearful havoc caused by the continued growth
and expansion of the late catastrophe. At an
emergency so imminent, the first essential is, quite
manifestly, one presiding and dominant authority.
That authority was recogniF.able in the person of Mr.
BRAIDWOOD up to the moment of his destruction.
The command became scattered directly he had
fallen dead under the crashing and smoking ruins
of the wall of the warehouse directly under which,
with his back to it at the time of the accident, Mr.
BRAIDWOOD was standing, dealing out nips of
brandy to his exhausted Firemen, heartening them
to the continuance of their efforts to extinguish the
conflagration. The Chief Inspector's death fell in
truth as disastrously among the ranks of the fire-
men as the sudden death of a Commander-in-Chief
might do at the commencemen',, of some great
pitched battle—all the more disastrously, seeing
that this Commander-in-Chien; disappearance had
apparently not been adequately provided for, in-
somuch that the authority previously united in his
own hands became abruptly distributed in equal
proportions, as it were, among his Generals of
Brigade or Sub-Inspectors. We can only rejoice
now that, so far at any rate, a mastery seems at
length to have been gained over those terrible
flames which appear, for a long while, to have
threatened some of the most densely-peopled quar-
ters of the metropolis with an apparently all but in-
evitable destruction. When the calculations come to
be made with a little more accuracy, we are greatly
in hopes that the loss of property, as at present
computed, may prove to have been very consi-
derably exaggerated. Making every allowance,
however, for the mere chance of any such exag-
geration, the calamity of this new " Fire of
London" is manifestly one of terrible magnitude.
Remembering BRAIDWOOD'S death while nobly
in discharge of his heroic duties on Saturday even-
ing—remembering the dreadful conflagration that
has desolated that portion of the metropolis, a con-
flagration still in parts burning fiercely, and
here and there even threateningly—remember-
ing the daring efforts recently made and yet to this
moment being continued by our brave Firemen,
who will read without emotion that im-
passioned tribute to " The Firemen of the Land,"
reprinted by us in another part of our impressi9n of
this evening, from the Poems of ELIZA COOK—one
of the most exquisite lyrics ever penned by the
People's Poetess.

THE FIREMEN OF THE LAND,

PROM ELIZA COOK'S POEMS.
(Now publishing by Routledge and Co.)
England, thou are justly proud
Of thy men so tried and brave ;
Well thy voice may boast aloud

Of our Boatmen on the wave.
Gallant fellows I well they grace
British song and Hero story ;
They will take a foremost place
When Valour counts her troops of glory.
But our cities long have shown

Those that match the Sailor band ;
Courage nobly claims her own

In the Firemen of the Land.
Give them Honour, give them Fame,
A Health to hands that fight the Flame.
When the red sheet winds and whirls
In the coil of frightful death ;
When the banner'd smoke unfurls,

And the hot walls drink our breath ;
When the far-off crowd appears
Choking in the demon glare,
And some helpless form uprears
In that furnace of despair ;
" Save, oh, save I " the people cry,
_ _

But who plucks the human brand ?
Who will do the deed or die ?
,Tis a Fireman of tho Land.
Then give them Honour, give them Fame,
A Health to hands that fight the Flame.
They who march to battle-field,
With the bullet tad the sword ;
They who go to take or yield
Life upon the crimson sward ;
They who measure blade to blade ;
They who offer shot for shot, •
With a heart that's no' er afraid,
With a courage free from blot ;
Let such spirits evor live

Foremost in a nation's band,
But as noble rank we'll give
To the Firemen Df the Land.
Then yield them Fonour, give them Fame,
And drink to hands that fight the Flame.

PRINCESS'S THEATRE.

On Saturday evening Byron's tragedy of "Wer-
ner" was produced here, the leading parts being
filled as follows :—Werner, Mr. Phelps ; Ulric, Mr.
and Josephine, Miss Atkinson.
PhelpsMfollows; the reading of Macready pretty
dr. m
Phelpsun d
closely, but with almost more intensity of passion.
His acting was as true to nature and as impressive
as that of his great prototype, but it had not the
finish of that accomplished artist. Mr. Edmund
Phelps has greatly improved since his first appear-
ance on the stage about twelvemonths ago.
The tragedy, on Saturday evening, was followed
by a new comic drama, in one act, entitled " A
Homestead Story." This slight affair, in which
there are only three characters, is an adaptation
from Scribe's comedy of " Genevieve," recently
produced by the French company at the St. James's
Theatre. Mr. Ryder played with sterling feeling.
Mr. J. G. Shore was the rustic lover, and Miss Maria
Harris made the heroine as interesting as possible.
The little drama was received with great favour.