FOOTNOTES:

The Burland Desbarats Lith. Co. MontrealRUINS OF BANK OF NEW BRUNSWICK.Photo. by G. F. Simonson.

The Burland Desbarats Lith. Co. Montreal

RUINS OF BANK OF NEW BRUNSWICK.

Photo. by G. F. Simonson.

The Bayard Building, containing Mr. G. Em. Allen's office, the Attorney-General's office and others, with two stores underneath, and the new Bank of Nova Scotia building, which formerly belonged to Messrs. Andre D. Cushing & Co., were soon destroyed, together with Barnes' Hotel, which, only a few years ago, had an extension added, and was fitted up with every modern improvement. Stewart & White's large furniture warehouse and auction rooms opposite, in Smith's building, with their heavy stocks, were burned.

NEW POST OFFICE.

The destruction of the new Post Office, one of the most beautiful buildings in the city at the time of the fire, was one of the saddest spectacles of the day. It had only been opened a year, and its handsome design and rich finish had often been admired. The ornamental freestone work on the front, and the rich red granite pillars, gave the edifice a very fine appearance. The flames were twice extinguished by Mr. Parker in the tower where they made the attack first at six o'clock, at the place where the clock was to have been put. At three in the afternoon the mail matter was carefully put away in bags, and every preparation made for a speedy departure. The first load of mail bags was hauled to a place of safety, to Reed's Point, and seventeen of them were carried by hand to the fish-market wharf, where a boat was seized and sixteen of the bags put in it. The doors of the Post Office were closed to the public at five o'clock, and byhalf-past six the fire had made such an onslaught that nothing could keep it away. Through the foresight of Mr. J. V. Ellis, the Postmaster, not a mail was lost, or a letter mislaid. The outgoing mails that night to the north and east, were despatched as usual, and with excellent executive skill, the Post Master was ready in a temporary office in the Market building, to deliver letters to applicants in less than twenty-four hours after the fire. In twelve hours after that the delivery system was in full working order, and in a few days merchants had the pleasure of receiving their mails in boxes of their own at the Post Office. The Registry Letter Office was ready for work, under Mr. M. J. Potter's management in a little while, and the opening of the Money Order Department's Office was not long in following. The clerks and other employes of the Post Office deserve the greatest credit for their promptness under a most trying situation, and their uniform kindness and courtesy were preserved to the last. Mr. Flaglor delivered the first and last letters at the Post Office, Prince William Street.

The old Nethery house in Church Street, where Mr. Geo. A. Knodell had his printing office, and Mr. H. L. Spencer his medical warehouse, was once the great headquarters of the Orangemen, and was built about the year 1823. It was in this building that in old times balls and parties, and dinners in connection with the order were given, and it was from here that on the famous twelfth of July, when Duncan Wilmot was Mayor, the Orangemen marched at the time of the memorable riot. Mr. Knodell has begun rebuilding on this site.

The Royal Hotel in Prince William Street, formerly Stubbs' Hotel, and for many years a leading house in the city, caught fire early in the afternoon from the sparks. The inhabitants apprehended no danger and the sparks were put out, but Mr. Waldron, Stage Manager of the Theatre, came to the conclusion that as it had taken fire once, it might soon again be stricken. He accordingly warned the others and proceeded to get his things together for a final exit. The Hotel did catch about an hour and a half after this, and all on the ground save the old tree to the left, were in ashes before night. Mr. Thomas F. Raymond succeeded Mr. McIntosh in the management of Stubbs' Hotel, and it was by him changed to the name of "The Royal." A great many public dinners and balls have been given in this house, and its spacious dining room for many years was considered one of the finest ball-rooms in the city. The last great ball given here was in 1871, in March, by St. Andrew's Society, on the occasion of the marriage of the Marquis of Lorne to the Princess Louise.

A large amount of property that had been stored away for safe keeping in the Custom House, was burned when that fine building went down. Hundreds of people believing strongly in stone and brick, sought refuge for their chattels here, and almost all available space was occupied with goods of every description. The merest trifles were saved after the building took fire, and an immense amountof material was consumed. Even Robert Shives' collection of diaries that dated back many years was lost, as well as a considerable number of his papers in connection with the emigration office of which he was the agent. Mr. Shives was suffering from illness during the fire and was too weak to be about much. Several merchants who had sent their account books to the Custom House for safety lost them in the great destruction which followed. The building was a good strong substantial structure built about the year 1841, by the late John Walker, Esq., and designed by him as a government warehouse.[Q]He did not succeed however, in having it accepted as such by the government, and it was purchased by Mr. McLeod, of St. John, and Alexander Keith, Esq., of Halifax, and used as the Custom House. The Government of Canada bought it from George McLeod, Esq., M. P. some months ago. It was roomy and well adapted for customs purposes. When the Dominion Government took it off Mr. McLeod's hands they refitted it up completely. The storm drum and time ball and signal station were situate on the Custom House.

The Burland Desbarats Lith. Co. MontrealRUINS OF CUSTOM HOUSE FROM NORTH END AND EAST SIDE.Photo. by G. F. Simonson.

The Burland Desbarats Lith. Co. Montreal

RUINS OF CUSTOM HOUSE FROM NORTH END AND EAST SIDE.

Photo. by G. F. Simonson.

The International Hotel was formerly a double residence with the entrance on the second story. About twenty years ago it was enlarged and converted into an hotel under the management of Mr. A. B. Barnes, who called the house after its owner—The Lawrence Hotel. Mr. Barnes leftit some years ago and removed to his own premises nearer King Street, and Mr. R. S. Hyke, after it was modernized a little, assumed the management.

The fire in Water Street proved to be very destructive. Tisdale's corner, at the head of South wharf, and the home of the hardware business in St. John for many years; the grocery establishments of C. M. Bostwick and Geo. Robertson; John Melick's office, the ferry floats and waiting-room, as well as Adam Young's large stove warehouse and the Messrs. McCarty's place of business, were soon carried away. The good old house of Robt. Robertson & Son, that for half a century wielded great influence in the community, and whose ships to-day ride many oceans, with its stock of sails and rigging, lasted scarcely longer in the terrible heat than an hour's space. Walker's wharf and the premises in Ward street suffered greatly, and it was while trying to save his property here, that Captain William M. B. Firth lost his life. He was last seen in Prince William Street, blinded by the smoke and scorched by the flames, trying to make his way out. It is thought that finding all hope of gaining an egress from the suffocating street, he sank down in the roadside exhausted and weary, and death came to him there. His body was found the next day, but it was not until Saturday that he was fully recognised and claimed. He leaves a sorrowing wife and five grief-stricken children, who spent the terrible days of his absence in the greatest agony. There were many rumours aboutCapt. Firth while he was missing. Some said thathe was all right in Carleton, others averred that he had gone away in a ship, while others again stoutly maintained that they had seen him put out to sea in a boat and that he would turn up all right. But when these tidings reached his poor wife, she always turned with a sad smile of gratefulness to those who brought her such news, in the hope that it might cheer her up, and said that her heart told her better. Her husband's place was by her side, and he knew it as well as she. What would he be doing out in a boat so long, when he did not even know whether his wife and family were alive or not; no, she never believed the rumours which came to her, thick and fast, as the hours of those anxious days went by; and when the dread news came at length, the widowed mother and her fatherless children had known it in their hearts long before.

Another terrible death was that of Mr. Samuel Corbitt, a gentleman esteemed and respected for his many good qualities, by all who knew him. He was a furniture dealer, and his store was in Prince William Street. A gentleman exchanged a few words with him while the fire was in full career. Mr. Corbitt went into his own building, to get some things and he never came back. The greatest sympathy is felt in the community for Mrs. Corbitt and family.

An old resident of the city, Mr. Joseph Bell—a painter, lived in Duke Street, where he kept his shop. On the night of the fire he went in to remove a painting it is said, but when he turned to come out he could not pass the flames, and he too perished, and was buried in theruins of his old home. A man named Johnson is still missing, and it is probable he lost his life in the fire. Mrs. Coughlan, Timothy O'Leary, Michael Donohoe, and Mrs. Fitzgerald, are also supposed to have lost their lives in the same sad way, and as many are still missing, the loss of life, it is expected, will be quite large. The heavy buildings came down with such rapidity after they became hot, that it is feared that a good many people were buried in the ruins, and the intense heat which followed would render them never again recognisable, even if a portion of the remains were found.

An incident has come to hand which deserves more than a passing notice. Young Johnny Murphy, a mere child, who lived with his mother in Charlotte Street, bravely jumped from the second-storey window of his residence with his younger brother in his arms. The act was that of a hero, and worthy the admiration and applause of thousands. Such bravery and heroism should indeed be rewarded. The little fellow wears his honors meekly.

FOOTNOTES:[P]March 8th, 1877.[Q]It had a three story granite front on Prince William Street 250 feet long, by 92 feet deep towards Water Street, which face was built of brick four stories high. It cost Mr. Walker $120,000.

[P]March 8th, 1877.

[Q]It had a three story granite front on Prince William Street 250 feet long, by 92 feet deep towards Water Street, which face was built of brick four stories high. It cost Mr. Walker $120,000.

The Old House on the Hill—A Wily Commissary—The Bags of Gold—What was done at Midnight—The Dead of Night Deposit—The Old Vault—A Timid Money-Lender—Mr. Peter Johnson—The Board of Commissioners—The Old Gentleman's Little Joke—The Inspection—How it was Discovered—The Fight with the Flames—"How much will I Get?"—What he Got—The Oil Barrels—Dashing the Water on the Kerosene—A Lively time on Reed's Point Wharf—The Bridge of Fire—On the Ferry-Boat—The Western Union Telegraph Office—The First Dispatch.

Thefire in that portion of Princess Street, from Prince William street to Charlotte Street, was a great leveller, and destroyed a number of useful buildings as well as a few very excellent ones. The Wiggin's building on Rocky Hill, north side, which was erected about twenty years ago found a fate which was common enough that day. The destruction of Ritchie's building, though not expected by some, followed soon after. It was admirably built, and the large number of division walls which it had, rendered it almost invincible against any element however strong. Look at it to-day after the fire has done its worst, and there is much of it standing that can be utilized again. Its splendid supports are ready for duty, and though the structure was on fire for seven hours and subjected to great heat, the walls show that they could stand a good deal of such endurance yet, and not crumble. The site on which this edifice was erected, has in common with some others which have been mentioned in the course of ourstory, a history of its own. A frame building many years ago, before Rocky Hill was cut down, was built here by Dr. Thomas Paddock, who afterwards disposed of it to Price, the Commissary, who subsequently sold it to the Government. The house was used as the Commissariat for a number of years. About 1823 or 1824 a good deal of excitement was created by the arrest of Mr. Price who was charged with defalcation in his accounts. He was closely guarded, and after a court of enquiry was held, he was confined for a time and finally allowed to depart. The story goes, and there are many who remember it perfectly, that a wealthy gentleman knowing that Price lived too fast, and had become involved, had offered to lend him the bags of money which would make good his position when the commissioners came to examine his accounts. It was proposed that they be sent over and deposited in the house, and after the examiners were satisfied and had left the city, the bags of coin would be conveyed back again to the owner. This was satisfactory, and Price thanked his good friend. In those days commissioners did not move as rapidly as they do now, and the board did not arrive for a few days. In the meantime, the money was in Price's possession, and he slept at night the peaceful sleep of the innocent and just. But delays are ever dangerous, and Mr. Price's friend was the timidest of the most timid men. He had no sooner sent his bags of gold out, when he began to ruminate. What if the commissioners decided to take the money with them and deposit it somewhere else? What if the thing leaked out and his friend Price gotdismissed, and he lost his money? It worried him, and though Price slept, the money-lender did not. He began to grow more and more anxious. Every day he grew worse, until at last just as the commissioners had arrived and Mr. Price was getting ready to show them around in the morning, and give them his papers to examine, and show them the money, the friend acted on the thought which was burning his heart out, and he sent for Peter Johnson. Now Mr. Johnson, who figures in our narrative, for the first time was a negro, and he it was, who, in the dead of night when all was still, wheeled the mysterious bags of bullion to and from the old vaults in the Commissariat. The money-lender sent for Peter Johnson and told him that he had altered his mind, and that the bags and their contents must be home again that very night. Peter proceeded at once, and stealthily approaching the vaults, opened the heavy doors with his key, got out the money, and wheeled it home again, and Mr. Commissary Price slept on in babe-like innocence. And so did his friend. And so did Mr. Peter Johnson. And so did the Board of Commissioners. In the morning, Mr. Price rubbed his hands and dressed himself with scrupulous propriety, that he might meet his masters in a becoming manner. And the Board of Commissioners got ready too, and they drove round to Mr. Price's in a body, and before entering on their duties there was much merriment among them, and one facetious old gentleman who was always joking and saying good things, you know, remarked to the others in his delicious way, that almost every man had a price, butnone had a Price like their's, and then he chuckled and slapped Price on the back, and Price chuckled, and the Board chuckled, and I have no doubt whatever but that Mr. Peter Johnson and his master would have chuckled too had they heard it. And then the party went down to the office and began to overhaul things, and everything was all right, and the books were found correct. And then a stupid old member of the Board asked to have the money brought in to be counted, just to comply with the regulation, not that they doubted friend Price."O, no, but an absurd form demanded it," &c., &c. And Mr. Price was affable and kindly, and said, "O yes, gentlemen, I shall be quite happy to show you the funds which are all safe in the vault, I assure you. Saw them myself no later than the other day,"&c., &c. And everyone said that was all right, and the iron doors were unlocked and swung back! But where was the money? Mr. Price was as pale as death, and turned to the astonished commission, when he said, "Come, gentlemen, now a joke is a joke, what have you done with the money?" But Mr. Price discovered before long that the world was not quite a smile, and he was marched off to prison, and the facetious old gentleman said to the gentleman who only wanted the money produced to gratify an absurd whim of the Government, "Who would have believed it?" And so the Inspectors walked out, behind Mr. Price, who was placed in durance vile and suffered as we have seen.

In 1843 Mr. Oliver Goldsmith, a descendant of the family of the poet, and a gentleman who wrote poetry too, occasionally, and whose "Rising Village," a companion piece to "The Deserted Village," was not without some slight merit, called on Judge Ritchie and told him that he had received orders from the Government asking for tenders for the old building on Rocky Hill, and he suggested that he had better tender for it. The judge did so, and to his great astonishment, his was the only tender sent, and he got the whole of the property, including the house and a stone barn which were on it, for £500 sterling, three months after his tender was accepted. He immediately rented it to Dr. Simon Fitch, who was beginning practice and who occupied it for a number of years. It was idle for a while after Dr. Fitch left it, and then Judge Ritchie had it altered and modernized, and he and Mr. L. J. Almon lived in it. It was still located high up on the rock. The judge, whose taste for architecture is well known, often planned the style of building he would like to put up. In the evenings after reading a while it was no uncommon thing for him to draw near to a table, and with pencil and paper plan buildings of infinite variety. It was good employment for the mind, and less expensive than actual building, and the paper houses could be altered and improved and altered again at very little cost. One day the judge planned in earnest, and his ideas took practical shape. He pulled down the high house, excavated the rock and proceeded to build. In 1853 he began work and by the month of February, 1854, his building was pretty well up. He had expended some five thousand pounds on it, and was about leaving for Fredericton whenMr. L. J. Almon came in and remarked to him that after he was in Fredericton a week or so he would feel rather foolish to get word that his building was burned down, and that there was no insurance on it. This troubled the judge, and he began to feel quite uncomfortable. He toldMr. Almon to lose no time but go at once and effect insurance. Mr. Almon put £5,000 on the unfinished edifice. The judge went to the capital, sat in the Assembly, and in a few days received intelligence that his building had been burned to the ground. He returned to St. John at once and began to rebuild. This time he proceeded with great care, and the chaste and handsome building destroyed the other day was the result. The first occupants of the offices were W. H. Tuck, Duff & Almon, Chas. Watters, Geo. Blatch, Wetmore & Peters, E. B. Peters, St. John Insurance Co., the Electric Telegraph Co., D. S. Kerr, Chamber of Commerce, Thos. T. Hanford, the Masonic body and some others. The stores below were not rented for some time after the building was ready.

The Society of Free and Accepted Masons, after leaving the Old St. John Hotel, met for some years in the upper story of the residence of the late Mr. Marshall, father of Mr. John R. Marshall, Chief of Police. This house was on the corner of Princess and Sydney Streets. When Judge Ritchie's building was finished, the Masons rented about half of the top story, and had it finished and furnished for masonic purposes. They have occupied these apartments ever since. Up to January, 1868, the various lodges in the city held their warrants from either of theGrand Lodges of England, Scotland, or Ireland. In the Province there were twenty-six lodges, viz: twenty English, three Irish, and three Scotch. When Confederation came to pass, it was deemed imperative by the leading masons of the Province to separate from their respective parent Grand Lodges in the mother country, and form a new Grand Lodge of their own for New Brunswick. This conclusion was reached only after mature reflection, and when it was found that the great political changes which had taken place in the country rendered it necessary. Three Grand Lodges were already represented in the Province. The Grand Lodge of Nova Scotia was working, and the Grand Lodge of Canada would be formed soon. Unless the craft established a Grand Lodge in and for the Province of New Brunswick, the exercise of masonic jurisdiction by so many governing authorities would only tend to hopeless confusion and detriment to the Order. It was a thing which could not be helped. Either an Independent Grand Lodge of New Brunswick must be formed, or a general Grand Lodge of Canada would be created, which would have entire jurisdiction all over Canada. At a preliminary convention of masters, past-masters and wardens, the subject was fully ventilated, and the motion to form a Grand Lodge of New Brunswick was carried by a large majority. The office of Grand Master of the new Grand Lodge, was first offered to R. T. Clinch,Esq., who was then District Grand Master, under the Grand Master of the Grand Lodge of England, but he declined the honour on account of the position which heheld. Benjamin Lester Peters, Esq., was then elected Grand Master by acclamation; William Wedderburn, Esq., Deputy Grand Master; Hon. W. P. Flewelling, Senior Grand Warden; David Brown, Junior Grand Warden; Rev. W. Donald, D.D., Grand Chaplain, and Wm. H. A. Keans, Esq., Grand Treasurer; Mr. W. F. Bunting was made Grand Secretary at the meeting in January, 1868, and the following officers were appointed: John Richards, Senior Grand Deacon; Benjamin R. Stevenson, Junior Grand Deacon; John V. Ellis, Grand Director of Ceremonies; Robert Marshall, Assistant ditto; Jas. McDougall, Grand Sword Bearer; John Mullin, Grand Standard Bearer; Henry Card, Grand Organist; James Mullin, Grand Pursuivant; Edward Willis, S. S. Littlehale, Robt. R. Call, Hugh A. Mackenzie, Thos. F. Gillespie, John Wallace, Grand Stewards, and John Boyer, Grand Tyler. Grand Lodge was instituted in January, in the year of masonry, 5868. The craft has made great progress, and preparations before the fire were on foot for the erection of a fine new hall in Germain Street. The greater portion of the stock was subscribed, and operations were to be begun at an early day. The brethren lost heavily by the recent fire. All the warrants were destroyed, but these can be replaced. The private lodges met in several instances with irreparable losses, and the full set of jewels, which Bro. Oliver Goldsmith several years ago presented to Albion Lodge, No. 1, was not the least of these.

In the summer of 1863, the St. John Gymnasium (joint stock) Company began building the Gymnasium, whichwas located opposite St. John's Presbyterian Church, King Street East. Its dimensions were 40 x 100, three stories front, and the Gymnasium proper was 40 x 80. The cost was a little over $5,000. The building was heated by steam, well lighted with gas, and neatly and tastily arranged, containing bath-rooms, parlours, drawing-rooms, &c. The first president was John W. Cudlip, Esq. Mr. J. S. Knowles was secretary, and Fred. A. Jones, the lessee and manager. Mr. M. W. Maher was the builder. A few years ago, the building was sold to Carson Flood,Esq., dealer in piano-fortes, and was by him converted into a commodious hall, suitable for dancing parties, tea-meetings, &c. The Gymnasium caught from the rear of the water-works, and was soon a heap of ashes. TheGlobeoffice in the Globe Building, Prince William Street, was burning about the same time as the Bank of New Brunswick, and the proprietors did not save even their fyles.

The fight with the flames on Reed's Point Wharf, which lasted from three o'clock in the afternoon until late the next morning, was one of the most dreadful encounters of the day. A prominent medical man of the city, who lost the house which he had considered fireproof, was hurrying away, when he found his services no longer needful, to a place of safety. All means of exit from the fire were cut off, except one—the route towards Reed's Point. He hastened in that direction, for he saw in a moment that soon that avenue would be closed against him. He fled down Germain Street to St. James's Street,thence along the latter till he reached the wharf. There he saw an immense crowd of refugees from the district round about, numbering fully fifteen hundred persons. The men were very disorderly, and the liquor they had taken was showing its effect. There was fighting, and quarrelling and swearing. The roughest element of the city was here. A long row of barrels containing kerosene oil or petroleum lay upon the wharf, and the sparks from burning buildings near by came whirling along in dangerous proximity to the barrels. The danger was growing more and more near. Should these barrels ignite and explode, a hundred lives at least must perish. No time must be lost. Water must be carried up to the barrels and the fire kept off. An attempt was made to roll some of them over the wharf into the harbour, but they were too heavy, and the fire was leaping in great strides towards them. The doctor shouted himself hoarse trying to induce the crowd to help him, but he was answered with either a be-sotted stare or a vulgar oath. He kept on running to the water, filling his pail, and dashing it on the barrels till his arms ached. Once he got a response from some rough men on the wharf, and a bargain was made with three of them. He offered them all the money he had—three dollars,—if they would come and help keep the fire away from the deadly oil. But the assistance was of short duration, and after working for about twenty minutes the fellows gave up, and would work no more. Still, nothing daunted, the doctor toiled on. He had all the women put on board the International Line steamer,through the kindness of Captain Chisholm, who was busily employed on the other end of the wharf in beating back the flames which were massing there, and then with a will he continued his self-imposed labour. None but he seemed to realize their danger. Maddened by drink and worry, and perhaps driven to desperation by the havoc the fire was making, they did not appear to take in the deadly peril in which every one on that wharf stood. The crowd stood about idling away, smoking, drinking, talking, jeering, and quarrelling. A lithe young fellow of twenty sat dangling his legs over the wharf and smoking a cigar, when the doctor called on him to come down and give him a hand. He returned a careless reply, and in a sneering tone asked how much he would get if he gave his help. The doctor grew maddened at this, and turning on him in a moment, cried out, "I am an old man; I have lost all that I was worth, and have nothing left. I have been watching you for an hour, doing nothing while I was working; and as you won't come for asking, I'll make you come down here and carry water if I have to drag you to the very water's edge." So, saying he pulled the young man down, grasped him by the neck, ran him to the water, and giving him a pail set him to work filling it while he carried it to the barrels himself. The lesson was a salutary one, and the unwilling assistant will probably never forget it. He had some manhood left in him after all though, for he worked well and hard, and after a time he apologized to the doctor and said he was sorry for having spoken as he did. It was some hours afterthis episode, that the doctor hailed a passing tug-boat, and the captain learning what was wanted, ran his little steamer alongside the wharf and got ready his hose. In a few minutes the wharf was deluged with water and the great danger was averted. It was this hose and the well directed efforts of the doctor which saved the wharf and the lives of many people. It is a matter of regret that the name of the captain of the tug could not be got as he deserves well of the country, and should make himself known that he may receive something more tangible than thanks. Hemmed in by the streets of flame to the right and left of them and directly in their front, from fifteen hundred to two thousand persons were imprisoned on the wharf from three o'clock in the afternoon till four the next morning, when the fire had gone down, and one ofthe loveliest mornings of the year dawned on the stricken city.

One of the prettiest sights was to be seen from the head of King Street, looking down in the direction of the market slip. When the schooners therein had caught, the flames mounted the masts and communicating with one another formed a complete bridge of fire from the north wharf to the south. It was like a gala-day celebration of fire-works on a large scale.

LIST OF VESSELS TOTALLY BURNED.SCHOONERS.1.Schooner "Angie Russell"; 25 tons; Boylan; Canning, N.S.,was discharging cargo of fish; owned by Captain.2.Schooner "Brill"; 74 tons;St. John, N.B., had discharged part of cargo and was going to Fredericton with balance; owned by McSherry's Insolvent Estate.3.Schooner "Brilliant"; 18 tons; Patch; Campobello; light cargo.4.Schooner "Bear River"; 37 tons; Winchester; Bear River, N.S., outward bound with cargo; owned by Captain.5.Schooner "Ella P."; 23 tons; Thurber; Barrington, N.S., fish.6.Schooner "Eliza Jane"; 27 tons; Bent; Bayshore, N.S.; salt.7.Schooner "L. L. Wadsworth"; 12 tons; Brown; Westport, N.S.; owned by Captain; fish.8.Schooner "Lily"; 8 tons; Israel; Weymouth, N.S.; outward bound; owned by Captain.9.Schooner "Martha Rowan"; 25 tons; Peters; Westport, N.S.; fish.10.Schooner "Parrot"; 27 tons; Hutton; St. George, N.B.; owned by Captain.11.Schooner "Star"; 13 tons; Benson; Westport; fish.WOOD-BOATS."Burnett," 46 tons, Captain Reed; "Linda," 26 tons; "President," 46 tons, Captain Orchard; and "Messenger," 33 tons.Four lime scows laden with lime, two owned by Mr. Raynes, of Fairville; two owned by Mr. Joseph Armstrong, of Greenhead.CASUALTIES.Schooner "Justice," Westport, hauled out of slip badly burned.Schooner "George Calhoun," lying in Walker's slip, mainmast burned, hauled out without further damage.

1.Schooner "Angie Russell"; 25 tons; Boylan; Canning, N.S.,was discharging cargo of fish; owned by Captain.2.Schooner "Brill"; 74 tons;St. John, N.B., had discharged part of cargo and was going to Fredericton with balance; owned by McSherry's Insolvent Estate.3.Schooner "Brilliant"; 18 tons; Patch; Campobello; light cargo.4.Schooner "Bear River"; 37 tons; Winchester; Bear River, N.S., outward bound with cargo; owned by Captain.5.Schooner "Ella P."; 23 tons; Thurber; Barrington, N.S., fish.6.Schooner "Eliza Jane"; 27 tons; Bent; Bayshore, N.S.; salt.7.Schooner "L. L. Wadsworth"; 12 tons; Brown; Westport, N.S.; owned by Captain; fish.8.Schooner "Lily"; 8 tons; Israel; Weymouth, N.S.; outward bound; owned by Captain.9.Schooner "Martha Rowan"; 25 tons; Peters; Westport, N.S.; fish.10.Schooner "Parrot"; 27 tons; Hutton; St. George, N.B.; owned by Captain.11.Schooner "Star"; 13 tons; Benson; Westport; fish.

"Burnett," 46 tons, Captain Reed; "Linda," 26 tons; "President," 46 tons, Captain Orchard; and "Messenger," 33 tons.

Four lime scows laden with lime, two owned by Mr. Raynes, of Fairville; two owned by Mr. Joseph Armstrong, of Greenhead.

Schooner "Justice," Westport, hauled out of slip badly burned.

Schooner "George Calhoun," lying in Walker's slip, mainmast burned, hauled out without further damage.

On board the ferry-boat between three and four o'clock in the afternoon, the appearance of the city burning in four places at once, was a grand as well as an awful sight. The passengers gathered together and wore very anxiouslooks, when it seemed for a time to be the intention of the captain not to land. The houses and stores of many who were on board were in danger, and all wanted to be at the fire. From the water it appeared to be levelling houses to the ground at the rate of one a minute, and the frightful ratio seemed never to slacken its speed. The ships lying near the wharves moved out into the harbour, and some sailed far down the bay. The path of the ferry-boat was crossed more than once by vessels which had succeeded in getting away in safety, and collisions now and then were threatened; but fortunately none occurred. At length, to the relief of all on board, the boat succeeded in getting safely to her landing-place, and a grand rush was made up the floats for the head of Princess Street.

Perhaps one of the best and first specimens of enterprise which occurred on the night of the fire was that which was displayed by the chief officers of the Western Union Telegraph Company. The office was burned down, and only the books and some of the instruments were saved. The Fairville wire would not work, and no means of sending abroad intelligence of the ruin of the doomed city remained. It was fully eleven o'clock when R. T. Clinch, Esq., the superintendent of the company, Mr. Thos. Robinson, the manager, Mr. Dawson, Mr. Black and other gentlemen connected with the company, met the writer of these pages on Germain Street. The fire was still raging, though not at all fiercely in the lower part of the city. The party went down to the railway station, andwe give an illustration of the building so that the reader may see the temporary Western Union Telegraph Office during the first few days of the fire, and after a little while a wire was put in working order. The first and only dispatch which left the city that night, and which on Thursday morning was read all over Canada, and in the United States, was sent forward, and each page was telegraphed as rapidly as it was written. In the morning the office was ready to receive and deliver messages, and those who stood by the counter, and every day watched the enormous crowd of people all anxious to be served first, can realize how hard the operators had to work in order to meet the requirements of the citizens. At one time there were between five and six hundred messages on the operator's table, and the sender might consider himself fortunate if his telegram got off three hours after it was written. Some miscreants in some instances cut the wires a few days after the fire, and the company had to send out twenty-five or thirty patrol men to look after them. Mr. Clinch lost no time in getting suitable quarters for the patrons of the company, and in a week he had a comfortable office, working finely, in the Market House. He began work at once on the new building which the company intend putting up, and in six months the new telegraph office will be ready for occupancy on its old site at the foot of KingStreet.

THE TEMPORARY W. U. TEL. OFFICE.

A Thrilling Incident—The Burning House—The Tall Figure in the Hall—Escape cut off—The only Way Out—The Street of Fire—Walking on Coals—The Open Boat—The way to the Wharf—Terrible Suffering—The Awful Death in the Street—Worn Out—The Escape—Saved—The Firemen—How they Fought the Flames.

Inolden times men who had performed deeds of bravery on the battle-field were canonized as saints, and those who had shown daring in other ways were revered as gods. There is a fascination about the stories which come down to us through the long centuries of time, and from the middle ages, and we are accustomed, almost from the cradle, to revere the names of the great ones who have filled the world with the splendour of their exploits in the defence of cities and the protection of fair ladies. In the nursery we learn to lisp the names of stalwart knights and doughty warriors, and the great deeds which they performed, ages and ages ago, live again in the memory of all mankind. And it is well that it should be so. It is well that the splendid actions of the world's great men should be remembered for all time. Who is there who does not feel the blood mantling his cheek when he thinks of a Clive and of a Marlborough? Who can think of a Napier and a Wellington, and not experience for a time a thousand emotions coursing and careering madly through his breast? And Robert Bruce on his little palfrey giving battle to the last of one of England's proudest and sternest knights, infull view of Stirling Castle, the day before the great battle was fought, is a story which every Scottish lad is taught before he is old enough to read. And the lives of such men as Bonaparte, Turenne, Wolfe, the Great Frederic, Von Moltke, and a hundred others, are undying records in the histories of nations, the memory of whose deeds shall last when time shall be no more.

In a young country like ours, whose territory has not often felt the hostile tread of invading armies, and whose broad acres are almost wholly unstained with the blood of battles, the heroes we have developed have earned their reputation in another and nobler way. Halifax has had her England, whose name will be remembered as long as ships sail the seas; and in St. John, we have long learned to bless the name of a hero in humble life, honest Tom Sloven. And now from the ashes of the fire two names arise, which in after years, when their owners shall have passed away, will live in the hearts of the people, and leave there an imperishable record. We applaud success, and oftentimes let honest effort and endeavour go unrewarded. We worship the rising sun, and when a man works hard to achieve a certain success and fails, we are apt to pass him by. And though the object, in the instance which we are about to relate, was not successful in the end, let us never forget the deed which was attempted at the imminent risk of the lives of the chief actors. When the story of the fire is told at firesides in the years to come, generations now unborn will listen with blanched cheeks and curdling blood, to the greatincident in the conflagration, when a woman perished by the roadside, and two men escaped a dreadful death.

Mr. John E. Turnbull's sash factory, in Main Street, despite all exertions, caught so quickly that the workmen narrowly escaped from the ruins with their lives. Mr. Turnbull crossed the street to his residence, which, like many others on that eventful day, he considered impregnable. He had worked long at the factory, and had stored in his house a large quantity of belting and tools of his workshop. He had carefully gathered up everything of an inflammable character, and had swept the yard clean, so that nothing could ignite and spread around the fire, that but too readily devoured everything in its way. A vigorous defence was inaugurated to save the house. Mr. Turnbull had good assistants. His sons were there, working like beavers, and Mr. Walker Frink in his department, stayed the flames for a long time. The neighbours, believing like Mr. Turnbull, that nothing could harm this house, had piled large quantities of furniture against its front, these were lying before the windows of the cellar, and after a while took fire. Mrs. Turnbull fearing that the house might after all be burned, and at the request of her husband, made her escape by the back window, and had to be lifted over the fence. It was well that she did go, for in a few moments the house was threatened from a dozen quarters. The fence in the rear was crackling, and Mr. Turnbull went down into the cellar and began to shove off the blazing furniture from the windows. He worked away at this for some time, neverdreaming that the fire was so near him, or that escape would soon be cut off. He had lost his hearing some years before, and did not hear the roar of the fire nor feel its approach. His son James was up-stairs battling with the fire, and Mr. Frink was on the roof. James Turnbull, realizing in an instant the condition of his father and his infirmity, and knowing well the determined character of his nature, was about to rush into the cellar and tell him how near the fire was, when he turned and beheld a dark shadow in the doorway. It was coming towards him, and for a moment struck terror into his soul. The tall figure of a woman, deeply robed in black, holding up a long train in her hand, and with head-dress all aflame, stood before him in the hall. He advanced towards her, as soon as he could recover himself, and at once tore off the burning head-dress and stamped it with his foot. He then brushed the kindling sparks from her dress. She seemed demented and unable to understand the nature of these proceedings. Indeed she remonstrated with him, and begged him not to destroy her bonnet.The fire had crazed her brain, and after escaping from her house she had wandered into Mr. Turnbull's blazing residence, unheedful of the terrible burns she had received, and notwithstanding that she was on fire herself in several places. James, realizing the state of affairs at once, coaxed her to go with him to the cellar to see his father, but she hung back and implored him to leave her there. He was forced to drag her unwillingly along, and together they both arrived at the place where the father was still labouring toextinguish the fire that was coming from all sides. He knew nothing of the great headway that had been made upstairs, and had not even begun to realize the danger of his situation below. As soon as he saw the lady he told his son to go and fetch a mat and throw it over her, and he would be with them in a few minutes. This was done, but as often as this mat was wrapped around her, it was thrown off again. Some moments passed, and Mr. Turnbull finding that he could do no more, resolved to leave the house. He and his son and the lady went upstairs where a sight that would have appalled a heart of stone met his eyes. All hope of escape through the alley in the rear was cut off. The house was on fire in the back. The flames were melting the roof in a dozen places. On either side the blaze was at its height, and not a moment was to be lost. Escape lay in one direction only, and that was hazardous in the extreme.They must face the fire and escape by the front door, or perish where they stood. The position they were in was trying, but fortunately for them their nerves were strong, and they were cool and collected. And now they began preparing for the struggle. The warrior formerly buckled on his armour of steel before venturing on the fray, but the armour of the fire-fighters consisted of old coats and wet clothes. A coat was fastened around the lady, who was still unknown to Mr. Turnbull, and her head was covered. His son James enveloped in the same way, stood by her side. Mr. Turnbull tied a wet handkerchief across his mouth, and after putting a coat over his head, they began the memorablerace for life. James seized the lady, lifted her on his shoulders and followed his father out of the door. She was heavy, very tall, and had passed in age the allotted three score and ten. In addition to this, she was unwilling to leave the house, and twice she had to be dragged away by main force from the sofa. In no instance did she seem to comprehend what was being done or how great her peril was. She was more concerned about her parasol and head-dress than she appeared to be about her own personal safety. James seemed endowed with superior strength, and he seized his burden with a sort of death grip from which despite her struggles, she could not escape. She afterwards became calmer, and while she made no attempt to get off his back, he had her full dead weight to carry. The three stepped into the street and walked into the furnace. The heat was intense, and holding down their heads they hurried along. They ran over blazing coals, and hands and feet burned to the very bone. They had not proceeded twenty-five yards from the house, which was situate near the corner of Main and Sydney Streets when they came upon a boat, thirty feet long, which was lying directly across their path on its side. They could not pass by the inside and had to go around by the bow. They were hastening along to Charlotte Street, and intended going down that street to the Ballast Wharf, and when the worst came the intention was to leap into the sea. But the lady grew very violent just as the boat was passed a few feet, and refused to go any further. She straightened herself up, and slipping from James'sshoulders, fell prone upon the ground. In vain she was reasoned with, in vain she was asked to make an effort, in vain she was appealed to, she would not move, but lay on her back helplessly, saying, "O leave me alone, leave me here, I'm very, very comfortable." The great fire, like a whirlwind, brushed against the exposed flesh of the three human beings, and wore it to the bone. It was like some invisible fiend. Before them they saw no flames, but a dead white heat that was all the more terrible because it could not be seen. Every time the covering was removed from their heads as they sought to look out and see where they were going, this intense, imperceptible heat burned their very eyeballs. The trees alongside were grasped by this unseen power, and their trunks were twisted and turned in its cobra-like embrace. Every thing in the road seemed charged with an element that appeared to draw the flames on. Though Main Street is one hundred and five feet wide, and the fire was for the most part confined to the houses on the side of the road, a cat could not run the gauntlet that night, and live. No one can realize the awful power of the heat, which the Messrs. Turnbull and the lady they were striving to save experienced on that thrilling march through the melting valley, without having passed through a similar experience. It was a trial that can never be blotted from their memories.

So much time was lost in trying to induce their charge to continue on with them, that their chance of escape by Charlotte Street was cut off, and the only hope that remained now, was to return by the terrible route they had come. The battle had to be fought over again. The race back had to be run once more. The boat must be crossed again, they must go nearly two blocks forward, or die in their tracks. The street was full of smoke now, and flying embers alighted on their shoulders and burned their clothes, and the wild heat and the scorching flames were madly tearing through to their faces. Their charge remained as helpless as before, and there was something pitiable in her beseeching cries, that almost tempted them to accede to her request and leave her there in the street. But not a moment must now be lost, the fire-king was trampling down all before him. The two men seized her. She struggled and would not move. They dragged her to the boat, and she fell from their now powerless arms. Weakened by the fire, and sick at heart at their ill success, they could do no more, and could scarcely resist themselves the desire to stay there by the upturned boat, and yield their lives back to Him who gave them. The old lady fell back, and died with a smile upon her lips. The men, too weak to carry her further, placed her close by the boat, and shouted loudly for help. But the streets were bare of people, and no sound could be heard but their own voices rising above the crackling of the flames. They ran over the lava-like street, stopping every now and then to catch breath. On, on they sped, the youthful spirit of the one being roused when it lagged, by the inspiring words of the wiry and vigorous elder. It was a terrible journey, fraught by direful dangers on everyside.Each foot of the way was gained by a struggle, every yard was won by a battle. It was not until Carmarthen Street was reached, that father and son could realize that they were saved. They removed the covering from their heads, and looked back at the road they had passed. A moment more in that fire would have been their last. A figure was coming towards them, as they, arm in arm, almost reeled up Carmarthen Street, and it proved to be the brother of the woman Mr. Turnbull and his boy had tried to rescue. He was told that his sister was left by the boat dead, and that no earthly power could have saved her. One can imagine his agony when he learned these tidings. The old lady proved to be Mrs. Reed, mother of Mr. T. M. Reed, a former mayor of the city. At three o'clock the next morning, Mr. Turnbull went back to Main Street, and on coming up to the unburned portion of the boat, found close by it, the remains of Mrs. Reed. Mrs. Reed lost in the fire two sisters—the Misses Clark, one of whom, it is thought, was burned in her house, on the corner of Sydney and Main Streets. These three ladies were highly respected and loved by all who knew them, and their afflicted relatives meet with the sympathy of all.

Mr. Turnbull's loss is very heavy and foots up fully twenty-five thousand dollars. He lost absolutely everything he possessed, and the deeds and bank-notes which he had in his safe were all burned. He does not despair now of being able to retrieve himself in some way. Hewas the first man to erect a wooden shanty and send a flag flying from its summit.

A large number of persons escaped from the resistless and giant-striding flames by means of rafts and small boats. Others got a friendly sail to Partridge Island in the tugs and steamers which approached the wharves whenever it was safe to do so. Many of those who were on Reed's Point Wharf and the Ballast Wharf got away in this manner.

The contingent of firemen from Portland worked with a will, and did much to check the flames—as much, indeed, as mortal man could do in a fire like this, with a high wind blowing a perfect gale all the time. The city firemen performed, with their brethren of the adjacent town, signal service. They drew lines round the burning buildings and tried again and again to confine the fire to one place, and prevent its spread. But the effort was futile. The flames broke down the lines, rose up in a hundred new places, and drove the firemen and their engines away from the spot. Some splendid work was performed in the vicinity of King Street East, and down towards Pitt. Here they were partly successful, and did all that could be done under the circumstances. Many of them are heavy losers, having lost everything they had in their own houses, while they were engaged in trying to save those of others. In a fire which never ceased to rage at its height until it came to the water's brink, and which poured an unceasing stream of flame for nine steady hours, and which burned in fifteen sections of the city atonce, it was a difficult matter for them with only four engines, to do anything like stopping the conflagration until it had spent itself, no matter how efficient and perfect the organization might be. No one expected the firemen to accomplish anything. There was something in the air which seemed to breed a sort of contagion, and the fire paralyzed buildings in a moment, and no one could tell how they caught. The fire struck men down where they were standing, and an invisible heat bore to the earth the trees on the sideways.

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