A Town burnt up. 327 



ped down, and tliose that had been blown down, lay 

 where they fell, with all that was combustible around 

 them, in a fit condition for burning. A fire in the 

 woods here, under any circumstances, is a terrific 

 thing, but when such additional incentives to its fury 

 as were scattered around this little town exist, it is 

 irresistible. From some cause a fire broke out some 

 half a mile to the south-west of the village. The wind 

 was strong, and the flames rushed forward with the 

 speed of a race horse and the roar of a tornado. Its 

 career was one of resistless fury. Flashing and swirl- 

 ing, leaping upward and onward, the dense columns 

 of smoke and flame curling and wreathing towards 

 the sky, and borne forward by the w^inds, soon 

 reached the devoted little town. The power of man 

 was as a reed in its course, and every vestige of the 

 village was swept away. Houses, barns, shops, mills, 

 everything that would burn, was consumed, and 

 where, when the sun rose, was a busy hamlet, when 

 it set, was only smoking desolation. Not a vestige 

 of a human habitation — not a structure reared by the 

 hands of man — was left. The little town in the woods 

 was wiped out, and smouldering ruins, charred 

 chunks, and heaps of ashes, alone marked the spot 



