VI ~~X~"~////x~~~)//~////~/"//6;~~/#'~"'~1I /7 .~r. \\~ l1lll~i ?/~~){~~~{{{{{{{{i\;{;{{1{{{~{{~~~{{{{{;{{;{~v;~;{{{;;;~~~,,{~~~;: - p.. V ////~~///%77%/%/~//7~~ %%/~,~~)~~y';"6~~~~~~~~;'~~Y~7/~K%#Y~'/i;~EE~~Hn~ Ilk #A/////,,~//,.,/A///%;/,/.7v/,Ky ii=-I~11~~. ~77///7//%'///6.~#67%~/ 11 a 7/%//,7~ff7/i.Y7K/A7///,i~~7%~ I'. ~Y7~,KKYKA7X';~~ ~A ~`~`. I. A - ~.. ~~~~~~~,,~x~~x~~~~~~~~~,.~~y~,~~~~~~~~~~~,;;)/;/'~r#/'e~#~ 7~/////7////'~///6.////./~i////////'/ 6/,,/// ~~~,xxxA.y'/,;/;",",x~,.,',4///////,,,/,/.6.//,./i//i //~/~/Y//~//~//~ //A ~s)Y44~~YXX;5""'~~~~~~~~W~';'7r~~~~~~')~~~~~';'~y~~~~~~~~~';~~/7A~$)I~~W7y~ 1~~~~"~74~~~/#~/~~~%~'~~~//7~"~~X?//\' - \ 111~ ill I \ \ \\\ ill 1/ —-:-'// it 0 TO THE .-y ~ j A-P,P { WHO PROMPTIY RESP0ONI)D IN THE PIOUR OF 24rED, TO THE H.ECESSITIES, OF THE (% r5~ me& ~ -i A WHO- PASSED "THROUGII the PLAMES and BEY ND," THIlS VOLUME A~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~~I . Iq..,. -4 3 i'' Ii I'I' III FI,I IL F' ' t '',' F - - -- ILIiIt'i lii I* I 0 0 I TH:EB LOST CITY! DRAMA ~ FIlRE-FIEND' AS IT WAS, AND AS IT IS) AND ITS GZoriozs _F7ztzre / A VIVID AND TRUTHFUL PICTURE OF ALL OF INTEREST CON NECTED WITH THE DESTRUCTION OF CHICAGO AND THE TERRIBLE FIRES OF THE GREAT NORTH-WEST. STARTLING, THRILLING INCIDENTS, FRIGHTFUL SCENES, HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPES, INDIVIDUAL HEROISM, SELF-SACRIFICES, PERSONAL ANECDOTES, &c., TOGETHER WITH A HISTORY OF CHICAGO FROM ITS ORIGIN, STATISTICS OF THE GREAT FIRES OF THE WORLD, &a -c BY FBANK LUZERNE, A sDENT Or CHICAGO PO TWNT-IVE YEARS, AND AN EYE WITNZSB OF = TRIBLE CONLAGRATION. EDITED BY JOHN G. WELLS, AUTOg op wIr ]VERMY MAN Hl OWN LAWYER; W S' ILUSTRATED NATIONAL HAND-BOOK; AND OTHER POPULAS WORB PROFUSXLY ILLUSTI'ATED WITII MAPS AD ENGRAVINGS FROM PROTOGRAPHS TUEN ON Ti SPOT. tIEw iorl - WELLS & COMPANY, 432 BROOME STREET. 3. L PARKER & CO., 152 SOUTH MORGAN ST., CHICAGO, ILLS. B. R. STURGES, 81 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON, MASS. A. L BANCROFT & CO., SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA. 1872 -OR ih $AL. i . 0 .4. Entered, according to Act of Congress in the year 1872, by Wm=i & Co., in the office of tha Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 'I,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I ; ~ WI I'>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -~I 'I \~~~~~~~~\ -~ _____~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (fi I \ 11 / z/ e,., " ,I 0 0 0, S OF LADIES FROM A BUILDING IN FINAlES. -. WEDDING AMID THE 11IIS-A ROMANTIO INCIDENT. - - BRUSH FOR I -OBBING NDOLPH SBEET BRDGE. - HO S CITIZENS IN CAMP ON THE SHORE OF TAKE MICHIGAN. A FIBE 8ENE ON THE PRAIs.-.. EUGE11 FROM WHITE ROCK, IHURON CO., MICH., SEEG SAETY IN THE WATER. - ___..._ HON. L B. MASON, MAYOR OF CHICAGO. - - - TH DESPEATE ATTET OF A PATHER TO SAVE HS CHIFLDRE. - SWIT TUSTIO-IILUIJATING THE FATE OF THE THIlVES AND INCENDSARES. - _.... - _ _ _-_ WINTERIOB VIEW OF THE CINCINNATI SOP-HOUSE ON PEOIA E RAILWAY DEPOT, NEW YOK CITY, ON THE STARTING OP THE LIGHTNINIG TRAIN WITH R FOB CHICAGO. - - IW OF THE BURNT DISTEICT-SHOWING PRONET BUILDINGS DESTROYED AND THOSE PRESERVED. - - - - AN EPJRSIS. TRAIN RUNNING THE GAUNTE IN T BLAZING WOODS OF THE PLAE. __ —_..._ BUNING OF THE ElNTRAL GRAIN EEVATORS AT THE MOUTH O0 TE CHIOCAGO RIVB. -.. -- --- GETTING WATE FROM THE ARTESIAN - - - - THE BEV. I. COLLYER PRAHING ON THE SI p Of M HUROH. GENERAb DEPOT OF SUPPLIES FOR THE uFS. - - 0 EERFOOT'S BLOCK AE THE B - - - - 309 165 .215 15 268 295 53 147 189 221 201 59 18 25 236 261 205 229 PENING BANK VAULTS, CO}. LAKE A/) DEARBORN SKEETS A LADY BETWEEN TWO THEBR BEDS ABLAZE. - BECOVERING VALUABLE FROM THE RUINS. - - - THE COURT HOUSE BEL, AFTER IT HAD FELL. - - -.BOOKSELLERS ROW, STATE STEE T. - - - VIEW FROM THE COURT HOUSE LOOKING SOUTZ-EAST. - VIEW IROM THE COURT HOUSE LOOKING SOUTH. - - CLARK STREET, SOUTH FROM WASHINGTON ST-FrZT. - - - (C) MMENCET OF THE REBUILDING OF CHICAGO. - - - FURNISHIG COFINS TO BURX THE DEAD. - - DEPOT FOR SUPPIES AT THE SKATING RINK. - - - THE NEW E,.acxE HOTl - -....SCENE IN DEARBORN STREET WHEN THE FLAMES REACTED TREO ON. - OU - ORAM ELEVATOITS ON - -. 0. BURPNG OF CROSBY O U HOUSE - - -. MAP, SHOWING THE BURNT DISTBICT., -... THE FLAMM COXNIATING WH THE SHIPPIN AND DESTRO ING THBE GRAIN ELEVATORS. -... -- SCENE IN THE PUIC SQU AR —THE COURT HOUSE IN FLAMES AN NTERISINO YOUTH DISPOSING OF RELICS. -. SCENE ON THE PRAIRIES.... --—. ^ ~ IN CAMP ON THE SRORE OP LAKB MWHIGAN. - - - EXTERIOR VIEW OF TIHE CINC SO,UP K OUS - - - TYING TO SAVE A FAVORZTE DOG AND C4NAY BR - o 183 187 25 151 -227 1103 213 '20 87 81 105 S7 2 5 75 17 271 ni5 220 807 ( 2~ p5) - 6 - " EXPRESS TRAIN RUNNING THE GAUNTLET IN THE BLAZING WOODS. .0 0 I i AN ENTERPRIZING YOUTIH DISPOSING OF RIELICS. INTRODUCTION. It is impossible for any mind to grasp and comprehend in one view, thle stupendous events narrated in the succeeding chapters of this book. It seems impossible for the ordinary intellect to appreciate that these chapters comprise the details of the most tragic and heart-rending calamity that ever befel a people since the beginning of history. It is not yet adequately understood-perhaps vill not be in our generation-that the Conflagration of Chicago, will, in the records of future ages, figure as the crowning disaster of the Nineteenth Century, —a disaster not like that which over-took Herculaneam and Pompeii, for they still lie buried beneath the run s of their grandeur,-but as the holocaust of that wonderful City which sprang into existence at the behest of the very Aladdin of enterprise, aind exhaled before a cloud of flame like the unsubstantial fabric of a vision, thlat. THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. like the Phoenix, has already arisen from her ashes, and is pluming herself for still grander achievements than those which so eminently distinguished her in the past. Her ashes are not yet cold, but they are already surmounted by edifices whose substantial construction would seem to be the result of long and patient toil, and the hum of business is again heard in those streets that but a few days ago were so completely devastated by the Demon of Flame. The new wonder will prove more wonderful than the old, for the fire has operated like the sowing of dragons' teeth, in raising up men equal to the great emergency, who will promptly master the situation and command it. We have more to do with the old Chicago than the new, with stern facts than prediction, with history that is more romantic than the veriest fiction that ever found its germ in the human intellect. The true record of the Chicago Fire, its facts, figures, incidents, hair breadth escapes, miraculous rescues, individual daring, and the noble charities of the world that flowed in upon its victims with a spontaneity as unprecedented as they were grateful and humane, serve as foundation and superstructure of "CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND Is "; but dealing, as it does, with realities alone, it is almost impossible for the compiler to divest his mind of the impression that he is recording a horrid phantasma gorical vision, rather than the facts of real life. Away from the ruins, and with all the consequences of the disaster removed from view, it is impossible to realize that in the short space of twentyfour hours the wealth of our North-western metropolis was discounted in the sum of near $200,000,000; that, worse than the mere pecuniary loss, treasures of art, and accumulations of the lore of ages, that no amount of wealth can replace, were devoured by the flames; and immeasurably worse yet, that hundreds of precious lives were swept away in the irresistable whirlwind of fire, which respected neither young nor old, beauty nor innocence, the strong nor the helpless, but, more implacable than the demons of the Herodian massacre, pursued them to the death, 18 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. 19 without regard to age, sex or condition. It is a chapter of horrors that can only be written as it was, with a pen of fire; but our task is to clothe in words an approximate idea of its realities, and a true version of the facts, that are destined to occupy a prominent page in history. We undertake this task in the belief that an eye-witness of many of the scenes and incidents herein detailed and a personal acquaintance of most of the actors in and sufferers by the overwhelming calamity, is best prepared to give a reliable version of its remarkable phenomena, adventures and contingencies; of its wonderful escapes, fearful tragedies and indescribable results -but it is necessary for the reader to understand, that very few intelligent observers witnessed the scenes and incidents described from the same points of observation; that many were overcome by fear, personal bereavements or great anxiety; that before the bewildered gaze of every onlooker, the appalling panorama of flame passed with the speed of the whirlwind, licking up, with its thousand-forked tongue, great blocks of brick and stone buildings as readily as if they had been mere toy houses of lath; and that intelligible description is necessarily hampered by these and a hundred other influences that encumber the minds of those who are now seeking to make a reliable history of these astounding occurenlces. The reader that did not witness these scenes never can picture them to his imagination. The readiest writer that saw and mingled in them will never present the picture as he saw it, to the mind of his reader: for neither pen nor pencil can do it justice. However heart-rending the details, the rent hearts of thousands of bereaved ones will declare them far, very far, short of the truth. The liveliest imagination cannot picture the unutterable sadness of such a reality, but to bring the facts right home to the business and bosom of readers everywhere, let them suppose some of the leading incidents and results of the succeeding history to occur in their own towns and cities. To-day they are THIROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. prosperous, progressive, happy: in the silent watches of the night the angel of destruction comes with his flaming swvord and devastates all their substance; brings death to their loved ones, poverty to their millionaires, dire want to all their people. The rich man of to-day is to-morrow a beggar; the happy wife and mother, widowed, childless, insane; husbands bereft, and lovers separated by the pathless ocean of death. Everything gone at one fell stroke, even before the fact of the destruction can be realized, and nothing left but the evidences of utter ruin! The vilest crusts have now become sweet morsels to the pampered children of luxury; and the fop of yesterday, who criticised his tailor without mercy for the slightest wrilnkle in his fashionable habiliments, accepts in charity a soiled and thread-bare coat as a priceless boonl. Dives and Lazarus are equally solicitous of crumbs. The fashionable belle forgets the length of her trail and the style of her chignon in the merciless gnawings of hunger, and joins the eleemosynary throng in a chintz wrapper, and without a care for the opinion of "society," anxious to satisfy the demands of nature at any sacrifice of pride. In this slight recapitulation of actual occurrences there is something of the grotesque mingled with the tragic, but it is all sufficiently woeful, and unutterably sad. It seems impossible to give too much emphasis to the noble humanity of people in all parts of the world, when the cry for help was flashed over the wires from Chicago. It was the cry that made all mankind kin on the instant, and the strife imnmediately began as to who should be first in making an adequate response. Those who were most conveniently located, geographically, were of course first on the ground, but supplies were at once started from all points of the compass, and from every locality where the emergency was understood. No city can honestly claim the credit of having been first in the work, for action was simultaneous throughout the land, and in a few hours after receipt of the news, great trains of supplies were on the way from New 20 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Louisville and all the cities of importance. It may appear invidious to particularize, but it is well known. that Col. FISK and the officers of the Erie Road were especially active in measures for the immediate relief of the sufferers A special train was loaded with the miscellaneous contributions of the people of NewYork-including clothing, provisions, blankets, mattresses; a great collection of substantial goods,-the road cleared for the occasion, and all arrangements complete under the personal supervision of Col. FISK. The ponderous engine is attached and the colonel stands with watch in hand to give the last directions. "All ready, Sam?" "Ready, Colonel." "What is the quickest time ever made between New York and Buffalo, Sam?" "12.20, Colonel." " Mtake it to-day in 11.20." "Open her, Sam." And Sam Walker, a tall, grey eyed, nervy man-just the man for the place, and honestly proud of his position, with compressed lips, drew back the lever, and the train swept away, forty, fifty miles an hour, with help for the hlouseless, starving hosts of the burned city. A similar incident in St. Louis: "What time shall I make, Mr. Johnson?" "The best your machine can show." "What stops?" "Only for wood and water." "How's the track?" "All clear. Everything is side-tracked for this special." An entire railroad line given up to the work of instant relief! MnrLEs GREE\N'OOD, one of the oldest and most respected citizens of Cincinnati, came in charge of the detachment of the 21 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. fire department of that city. He was for several years chief engineer of the department. "Where is your Engineer?" was his first question. "Gone home, sir, completely exhausted." "Who has charge, then?" I am in charge," said a young man, stepping to the fiont. "Well, the Cincinnati boys are here with their machines. What do you want us to play on?" "You may play on that elevator over yonder." "Is it on fire?" "No, sir." "Then we shan't play on it. We came here to put out fire. What is that fire over there?" pointing in another direction. "That is a Coal Yard." "We'll go and put it out." At it they went and were as good as their word. Then they extinguished the fire in other coal yards and saved near two millions bushels of coal. These Cincinnati boys did not tire as long as there was anything to do, and accomplished a vast amount of good under the leadership of Mr. Greenwood,-and when their work was done they returned, orderly and in perfect discipline to their honored city, proud of having accomplished something in the work of humanity. The relief committees who came to us with the bountiful offerings of noble hearts everywhere, were generally the representative men of their communities, but they proved to be workingmen in the great emergency, and took hold of matters with a will that commanded success, and resulted in just what was soughtrelief. Their works, their offerings, and kindly sympathy, proved the kinship of humanity beyond a doubt. The skeptic can now find the evidence written in letters of love all over the ashes and ruins of the once proud city. Wherever the story of the conflagration was told, the hearts of mankind responded to the im 22 CHICAGO AS IS WAS AND AS IT IS. pulse of universal brotherhood. All seemed to act in the spirit of the noble sentiment of Sir WValter Scott: "The race of mankind would perish, did they cease to aid each other. From the time the mother binds the child's head, till the moment that same kind assistant wipes the death-damps from the brow of the dying, we cannot exist without mutual help. All, therefore, that needs aid, have a right to ask it from their fellow mortals; no one who holds the power of granting, can refuse it without guilt." True humanity consists in a disposition of heart to relieve misery. It appertains rather to the mind than the nerves, and prompts men to use real and active endeavors to execute the actions it suggests. Men, women, and even children, throughout the land, responded nobly to this sentiment: and great corporations, that are said to have no souls, felt the thrill of benevolence and responded to its promptings. Bankers opened their hearts and their strong boxes; beggars pawned their all to give to those whose needs were so exigent. A man in St. Louis gave all he had; a poor woman gave her cow; a little negro contributed his only dime; a poor student sold all his books and donated the proceeds; a, farmer in Northern Indiana auctioned off his hops for the benefit of the sufferers and handed over the entire proceeds to the Relief Committee; a boot-black announced that the receipts of one day's work would go to the needy of Chicago, and was enabled to make a donation of twenty-five dollars as the result; an Irish laborer gave his wages for an entire week; the theatres gave benefits, that proved benefits indeed; the churches made noble contributions; even inmates of our prisons were enabledcl to do something in the way of relief. Those who did not give are the unenviable few that have no conception of generous impulses-those who cannot appreciate the blessed principle that no amount of giving can ever impoverish true benevolence. Verily it is "better to give than to receive." 23 THROUGH THE FILAMES AND BEYOND, We may be expected to say a word regarding tlhe reconstruction of Chicago, but the following extract from an editorial article in the London News is so perfect a reflex of the thloughts and acts of our people, and so admirably expressed, we give place to it instead of similar ideas in our own language: "This is the consolation which already the pride and energy of Chicago offer to the people. Thlere seems to us something admirable and characteristic in the elasticity and courage which thus leap up the moment the storm of devastation has done its uttermost, and cry out, "We are not wholly conquered after all; let us go to work at once and retrieve what we can." Nay, there are even men in Chicago, who having lost the fortunes of many years accumulations, are heard already to say that the fire has taught a useful lesson; that all the obliterated part of the city was built on a bad plan, and that it must be better done this time. The vastness of this calamity is fully recognized, indeed it is written in letters of blood and flame, which defy any misinterpretation. It is told by the living and the dead; by the houseless wanderers as well as by the cartloads of corpses. It is proclaimed by what remains as well as by what has fallen. It is simply a story of sudden destruction which stands alone in history. But the one fact remains-Chicago still lives; and the courage which springs up at once from the ground to proclaim that fact is the grandest evidence that the ruins will yet be repaired. Certainly, if any people on earth ever deserved help, these people do, whlo are thus so ready and resolute to help themselves. The claim to the sympathy and succor of the English nation which were given to Chicago in her unparalleled misfortune, can only be strengthened and increased by her indomitable courage." Near 5.000 building permits have already been issued, and there wvill be no interruption in the work of rebuilding until the new Chicago arises from the ashes of the old, in more substantial grandeur, rehabilitated, immeasurably improved, and all the better for her thorough purification. These are bold words, but their verification is near at hand. This book would be incomplete and unsatisfactory without some general reference to the great fires of history, and especially 24 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT1 IS. to those which devasted large tracts of the Northwest, almost contemporaneously with the Chicago holocaust. The leading facts and incidents of these fires are given in their proper place, and will be found of no less absorbing interest than the principal event upon which the narrative hinges. In the integrity and completeness of the work the public may place the fullest reliance. IRECOVERING VALUABLES FOM THE RIUINS, 25 -i. n t w I11 ll~ II n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~1 ~'itl 0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~j Il, p~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~' 1 -pt~I~Ij~~i ~t 'Ii I TIll Ill tI/Itt q' Al I! Tj \\III,i,ITIti\\\\\\! TT\\t;Ti:I,t,TI:iI It ! I t HISTORY. CHICAGO AS IT WAS IN THE EARLIER DAYS. FACTS AND INCIDENTS FROM YAARIOUS SOURCES OF AUTHENTIC INFORMATION. In his masterly essay on History, Dr. Willmott says that the biography of a nation embraces all its works. No trifle is to be neglected. A mouldering medal is a letter of twenty centuries. Antiquities which have been beautifully called history defaced, composed its fullest commentary. In these wrecks of many storms, which time washes to the shore, the scholar looks patiently for treasures. The painting around a vase, the scribble on a wall, the wrath of a demagogue, the drollery of a farce, the point of an epigram-each possesses its own interest and value. A fossil court of law is dug out of an orator; and the Pompeii of Greece is discovered in the Comedies of Aristophanes Nothing is unimportant that legitimately belongs to the history of a nation or a great city. That we are permitted to go back more than two hundred years, to 1669, for notes of our sketch of the history of Chicago, will appear novel to a majority of even the more intelligent of our readers, for the impression is very popular, and has obtained wide currency, that not more than half a century ago the spot where the city now stands was worse than a howling wilderness and a terra incognita, supposed to be inhabited only by Indians, outlaws and beasts of prey. In some respects this view is not entirely foreign to the truth; but at the time to wlhich we refer it was a trading post of no little importance. Let us go back, however, to the beginning of its existence as a depot for commodities, and find what all its greatness and importance sprang from. The best authenticated records inform us that the first white men who landed here were the French Jesuit missionaries and fur traders, under lead of the celebrated guide, Nicholas Perrot. They were in search of profitable ventures inll the way of an exchange of trinkets and rum for furs, with a little moral teaching PIO EEla THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. thrown in by the missionaries to sanctify the transactions and guarantee the quality of the liquor. This initial visit occurred late in the year 1669, when the territory was the property of the MIiami tribe of Indians. Subsequently the Pottowattamies conquered the Miamis, and wrested from them their hunting grounds and all their possessions. Then there was a better supply of furs and a larger demand for beads and "fire water," for the Pottowattamies were excellent hunters and terrible drunkards,-rather anomalous characters, but remarkably well balanced in this tribe of the noble red men. The records of the succeeding century, referring to this post, offer little of value to the reader of to-day, and certainly do not indicate any noteworthy progress toward its material or moral improvement. Trade with the Indians increased in importance and consequently in profit, and to the few adventurous spirits that were ready to brave its personal risks, this far away frontier settlement proved a modern Djinnestan. In 1795 the Pottowattamies concluded a treaty with General Wayne, by which "a tract of land six miles square, at the mouth of Chicago river," was ceded to the United States; and this was the original extinction of Indian title to the site upon which the great city was subsequently erected. Previous to this cession, several of the French Jesuits had taken up their residence here, and had made certain improvements that seemed to give them some shadow of title to the soil, but the Indians ignored their claims and remorselessly sold them out, although the French authority was nominally in the ascendant for ten or twelve years previous to the treaty. They made the improvements, built a rude fort near the mouth of the river, erected comfortable lodges, and cultivated a few acres of the soil after a method that yielded them a fair return. Calumet is supposed to have been the head-quarters, or seat of supreme authority, of this strangely mixed population, and their villages were scattered up and down the lake, for several miles, and on the Des Plaines; and the ranging grounds of the Pottowattamies, from the head-waters of the Illinois to the Chicago river, was the common channel of transportation for goods and furs between the Indians and the traders; but the head-quarters of all this primitive commerce, its shipping point and grand depot, was the port of Chicago, by common consent. Dating back to this period, there are a hundred traditions of 30 CHICAGO AS IS WAS AND AS IT IS. wild adventure, bloody tragedy, savage love, jealousy and hate, to engage the pen of the historian of romantic incidents, wherein he would be enabled to depict a modern Busiris in one of the chiefs of the Pottowattamies, who ruthlessly murdered every stranger that, landing on his territory, failed to bring him apeace offering of five gallons of rum, or an equivalent in trinkets; a prototype of Al Sirat, the bridge over hell no wider than the edge of a sword, across which, according to Mahomedan theology, every one who enters heaven must pass-in the terrible gauntlet appointed to stragglers and unaccredited visitors from other tribes, in which delightful ceremony the young Indians were provided with sharp tomahawks and spears and drawn up in two rows, facing each other, when the delinquent was forced to run between them, while every Indian in the lines dealt him, in passing, as severe a blow as he could muster.trength and agility to inflict, killing him at last, unless, as was occasionally the case, he was enabled, by wonderful address, to avoid the death-blowscalping, flaying alive, burning at the stake, treachery, stratagem,-and all manner of cheats, with only occasionally an instance of faith truly kept. The few white men who were here did not venture for the purpose of settlement, their business was simply to trade with the Indians; overreach them if possible, and away. The gain from this traffic seemed to overbalance all considerations of peril attached to it, and to those well versed in the trade, the profit was very great. Respectable fortunes, for that age, were acquired by the successful operators in two or three seasons; and there is a tradition that an English adventurer, by a single trip among these children of nature, obtained, in exchange for 50 blankets and twelve barrels of rum, a quantity of fine furs that brought him $160.000 in glittering gold, on his return to the mother land. If the Indian was crafty in a trade, the white man was more than a match for him in that experienced bargaining that is the ruling element in every civilized community, and it is pretty certain that the pale-faced trader rarely failed to make the "dicker" to his own advantage. In the year 1804, the United States government built a fort here, and made it the centre of military operations in the northwest. It was called Fort Dearborn, and remained until 1812, when the Indians destroyed it, at the time of the great massacre, which has associated with the name of Chicago a chapter of 31 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. romance so closely allied to history, it is very difficult to separate fact from fiction, relative to that most bloody episode in our history. The location of the fort was upon a slight elevated point, or the south side of the river, near the lake shore, and is well known to all intelligent residents of the city. From its ramparts a good view could be had of the lake, the prairie extending to the south, the fringe of timber along the north and southi branches, and the glistening white sand hills to the north and south, which drifted about very much like the snows of winter; the sport of the winds from lake and prairie alike. Slowly and laboriously the infant colony gathered around the nucleus of civilization, established by the garrison of the fort, but, as the aid to progress, in such a location, the garrison was very weak and inefficient. It was the object of frequent attacks by the Indians, and in danger of surprise at any hour of day or night. A few old traders and perhaps a dozen families of French Canadians and half-breedcs, none of whom possessed more than the most ordinary degree of intelligence, erected their household shrines in the neighborhood of the fort, and were content, for the most part, with the profits arising to them as "middle-men" in the increasing traffic with the Indians, which now constituted the entire business of the settlement, and invested the Chicago of that day with all its importance. We are told that none of the hardy pioneers around the walls of old Fort Dearborn have descendants to claim the honors of so distinlguished a paternity, except the Kinzie family, which exhlbits the only link in the worn and rusted chain of civilization that admits of positive identity. The founder of this family, John Kiuzie, came to Chicago in 1804, the year in which the fort was built, and was the first permanent white resident of the settlement. From 1804 to 1812, the lake trade which centered at the port of Chicago was carried on by one small sail vessel, coming in the fall and spring, bringing the season's supply of goods and stores for the fort, and taking away the furs and peltries which had accumulated during the winter months. Thus began the commerce of the port, and this was nearly its extent for a period of more than sixteen years. Kinsie pursued the business of futr trading until the breaking out of hostilities with the Incdians, which resulted in the massacre of 1812. The friendly feeling which had been assiduously cultivated between him and 32 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. the redmen preserved himself and family from the fate which befel his neighbors of the fort. They came out unharmed through the scenes of the bloody and relentless slaughter. Returning to Chicago in 1816, he remained here until the date of his death, in 1828, a successful merchant, a good citizen, and a prominent mover in every enterprise calculated to result in the material benefit of the place. Although at the time of his death the settlement contained a population numbering less than one hundred souls, he was very positive in asserting the superior advantages of the site, and predicted that the time would arrive when its residents would be numbered by thousands! Most of his neighbors thought him crazy on this subject, but some of them lived to see the anticipation fully realized, and his immediate decendants are to rejoice with us over a population of 300 000 souls. Cook County, of which Chicago is the capitol, was organized in March, 1831, and at that time embraced all the territory now comprised in the counties of Cook, Mecenry, Lake, Will, DuPage and Iroquois. This is an immense area, reaching down to near the east and west dividing line of the State, and including portions now thickly dottedl by enterprising towns and villages, and beautiful farms, and intersected by several lines of prosperous railroads. In 1831, all the buildings in Chicago were log cabins, the more pretentious, including two business houses and a hotel, of hewed logs, which were viewed as an aristocratic pretense by the. more humble denizens. Two of the new cabins were store-hiouses for goods, including calicoes, rum, sugar, coffee and tobacco, which at that date were among the leading necessaries of life; and two were "hotels," that of Elijahll Wentworth, on the north side of the river, near the fork, and Mark Beaubiens, on the east side of the river, just south of the fork. These were the hostelries within whose gates the strangers who came to the settlement were entertained, and for many years they amply sufficed to furnish food, drink, fire and shelter for all comers, and their reputation for generous entertainment was well known throughout all the land. Two celebrated Indian traders, Robert A. Kinzie, located near Wentworth's tavern, and M. Bourisso, just south of Beaubiens, monopolized the business of the place. They were both rich, and either was pecuniarily able, had he been so disposed, to purchase all the land thereafter occu 33 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. pied in building the great city; and this without detracting from the capital of his occupation; but everybody would have regarded such an investment as fool-hardy at that time. On the 15th July, 1831, arrived at the port of Chicago the schooner "Telegraph," from Ashtabula, Ohio, bringing a number of families that dclid not however settle here; but among the passengers was MIr. P. F. W. Peck, of New York, who accompanied quite a shipment of assorted goods, for which he was desirous of finding a profitable market. He was well satisfied with the appearance of things in and about Chicago, and at once decided to remain here and dispose- of his merchandize, provided he could make satisfactory arrangements for a warehouse. There were no buildings for rent, as there had been no renters, up to this time, but Peck conceived the idea of occupying a cabin as joint tenant with a family already located, until his goods were sold. With this idea in his mind he approached MIr. J. B. Beaubien, whose residence was upon the site afterwards occupied by the splendid depot of the Illinois Central Railroad Company, and made him a proposition for the occupancy of the principal room in his humble dwelling. Beaubien was of a speculative turn, andl of course always open to a trade, but was in favor of making the propoition himself. No;-he had no room to spare just then, but he would build a cabin for Mr. Peck on fair terms, or he would sell his residence and give possession in three days. He would inquire, just for his own information, as to the value of lIr. Peck's stock. "About $4.000." "How would it suit 3Ir. Peck to trade a half interest in the goods for his cabin and a large lot adjoining?" MIr. Peck did not care to invest in wild lands. "Oh!" says Beaubien; "it all lies right here inside of the town. There is about twenty acres with the cabin, but I'll put in a hundred acres on the other side of the river [North Side;] and then the cabin itself is one of the best here-all for a half interest in the goods." "No," said Peck, "not if it were twice as much." So he went to work and built a cabin for his stock, and traded it for furs and peltries at good round figures, and was well satisfied; but the property he rejected for $2.000 worth of rum and calicoes, is to-day worth not less than $50.000.000; and Peck ;j4 HIIICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. remained in Chicago and witnessed all this stupendous advance, and, we are told profited by the lesson in many future transactions. Mir. Peck brought an enterprising spirit and good business judgment to the young settlement, established himself permanently here, and was active in all improvements that promised to benefit the place. Late in the summer of 1831, western emigration set in largely, and during the fall months the population was more than doubled by emigrant families seeking homes and fortunes in the wilds of the new territory. These pioneers were hardy representatives of the "bone andcl sinew of the land," generally intelligent, andcl prepared to endure the hardships and privations of life on the frontier. They were enterprising and far-seeing in their movements, and it was not difficult for the more thoughtful to foresee something of the future of a port location like that of Chicago, commanding, as it must, all the commerce of the immense territory lying to the northwest. Investments in lands-there were as yet no surveys of city lots-rnow began to be somewhat active, and property advanced in price nearly four fold within the next twelve-months. Some of the more conservative among the inhabitants declared that prices were inflated, but the "inflation" continued, and kept on increasing in volume from year to year, regardless of financial panics elsewhere, up to the very hour of the conflagation. We learn that in November, 1831, the schooner "Marengo" arrived from Detroit, bringing a consignment of goods of great value for the emigrant population that had taken up their residence in the fort. For a time there were great fears entertained of the loss of the schooner, as during her passage a heavy gale prevailed, but she at length arrived safely, much to the relief of the people, for there were not less than four hundred in the fort who depended on these supplies for subsistance during the winter. These people were not generally countedcl as residents of the settlement, as many of them expected to, and did remove into the interior of the territory early in the spring, but their places were rapidly taken by actual settlers during the succeeding year, whose history was marked by many substantial improvements for that early time-among which may be mentioned, as a fitting close for this sketch, the erection of the first frame building in the settlement of Chicago! 35 ___ 1 If~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I ~~~-~ II I _______________________ _______ _______ _____ _____ ______ I I I H II\\I~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~' !.!'! l\I~ I i I;Ii, t I If I I!l, 'I -i I .: Ii. -ii! I ": 1!I, Ii 1:1 . i I .:,. III .... i I i ,, l' - 1, , , I I", I i !! ii !; 1,;11iI I , if Ii I;.. I! I;,1. i 1. I i 'i .i! I 11 - I .i i ', ,'I-., il " iI I' It I ,ii . I 11, , I I I i i ii I i. l; 1; l' ",:I 11 ,, 11 f I It! , li'l i i a y' < -'~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~1 IIE1__ P4 p ;4 H IJ2 X. 0 H 9 U2 m 0 PI14 0 E-4 0 0 IJ2 i I N I0 r.11 A II1. i GENERAL HISTORY. IMPROVEMENTS-TOWN AND CITY ORGANIZATIONS-PRICE OF BEAL ES TATE-INSTANCES OF SUDDEN FORTUNES, ETC. It was not untill 1833 that Chicago began to excite general attention throughout the Unitedl States as a desirable point for residence and investment. Notices in the newspapers were instrumental in calling public notice to some of its advantages, and the conmmlerce of the country began to show anxiety for a harbor here;-therefore means were taken to bring the subject before Congress in sulch shape as would be most likely to induce favorable legislation. The legislation was reached after long discussions in both houses, and a large amloullt of editorial comments in the leading journals, which served to call a great deal of attentionl to the place, and a bill passed appropriating $30,000 for the improvement of Chicago harbor. This was, in more senses than one, thie key note to our prosperity. People were convinced that the place was of some consequence, else this large amount -much larger in those days than now-would not have been granted for its advantage, and the tide of immigration set in earnestly. The work of harbor improvement was commenced in the summer of 1833, and pushed with energy till the cold weather caused its suspension for the season. In the following spring there wvas a great freshet, which effectedcl more than the labor of man had been able to accomplish, for the land between the piers was entirely washedi out and carried awvay, and the harbor efficiently opened to the commerce of the lake by the hand of nature herself. This was the beginning of that magnificent commerce which now spreads its white wings over all our inland seas, and attracts to our busy warves the traffic of a world. Its history is practically the history of Chicago's prosperty and fame. The vitality imparted to the business of the place by this improvement is not easy to appreciate now, at a date when a resident of Chicago is accounted to possess the vitality of a Salamandcler, and the concentrated view and push of at least a dozen ordinary human bipeds; but it seemed to be sufficient to warrant the people in believing themselves andc their "burgh" of suffi THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. cient importance to risk the organization of a- town. As the nucleus of a town organization they already possessed an estray pen and a jail, supplemented by a newly appointed coro ner, whose office had been improvised to serve one of those sud den emergencies to which frontier settlements were at that time subject. July 22nd, 1834, a meeting of qualified voters was held, at which it was voted, by twelve good men and true, that it would be a rightful and proper thing, and eminently expedient, to incor porate the town of Chicago. Only one man cast a negative bal lot. There were at this time twenty-eight legally qualified vo ters in the settlement, but all did not see fit to exercise their right. The'election for Trustees of the new town was held on the 10th of August following, and five were chosen, who met for the first time on August 12th, at the office of the town clerk, and organized according to the provisions of law. The territory embraced in the corporate limits comprised only about one mile square of the prairie, and coincided very nearly with the area at present bounded by Jackson, Jefferson and Ohio streets, and Lake Miichigan, recently the center of trade and wealth, and, most emphatically, the fiery furnace of the great conflagration. Nature pointed it out as the "business center" of the great city, and those far-seeing pioneers were apt at discovering its advantages and profitilng, by them; and we need scarcely predict an event that is even now in process of transpiring, to wit: That after the rehabilitation of Chicago, this original mile square will remain the centre of trade and wealth of our inland metropolis. A prominent citizen has given publicity to the declaration that "'the center of trade may be removed to any point where five thoroughly, wide-awake men, with plenty of capital, desire to establishl it;" but we doubt this statement, provided te " thoroughly wide-awacle andcl enterprising men, with plenty of capital," are equally desirous of establishing it in a different locality; and, in this instance, the majority of business men andcl capitalists in favor of the old established center is more than ten to one. CESSION TO THE UNITED STATES OF NORTHEIIRN ILLINOIS AND WISCONSIN BY THE POTTAWATAMIE TRIBE OF INDIANS. AMter thie act of incorporation had been legally completed, the town be,gan, in the estimation of its citizens, to become invested with additional importance, and to desire the respect of its 42 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. contemporaries. Its denizens, in casting about for their real estate, found that the Indians, still dominant hereabout, were disposed to resent the spirit of aggrandizement exhibited by the white mnan; and it was resolved that the requirements of civilization demanded of our dusky brethern that they find new hunting grounds, to the end that the pale face might be permitted to till the soil, navigate the waters, and pursue all the arts of peace for his own special behoof and emolument. This movement was vigorously opposed by a few of the old Indian traders; but the influence of leading men throughout the West was brought to bear in its favor, and after many proposals, much caucusing andcl plenty of "fire-water," the question was settled by the cession to the United States of all the territory in northern Illinois and Wisconsin, belonging to the Pottowattamie tribe of Indians, at that time numbering more than seven thousand souls. Messrs J. B. Owens, G. B. Porter, and Wm. Weatherford, commissioners on the part of the Unitedl States, displayed remarkable tact and ability in concluding this important and perplexing treaty, which extinguished the title of the treacherous, aggressive andcl thieving tribe, in an immense tract of the most valuable land in all the Northwest, and threw it open to the settlement and improvement of an industrious and worthy class of emigrants. The conditions of the treaty were that the Indians should receive an annuity of $30,000, and that they should be conveyed, at the expense of the government to the territory beyond the Mississippi which hadcl been allotted to their use and occupancy. On the 25th of September the treaty was duly execuLted, and on the 1st of October following, so prompt was the government in despatching its plans, the train of teams conveying more than fifteen hundred squaws and papooses, started for the destination of the tribe, and consumed forty days in reaching it. This stupendous exodus of the red men andcl their families is described by those who witnessed it as a spectacle of inconceivable sadness. They were bidding an everlasting farewell to their homes and their birthright; to the land where they had tracked the wild beast and conquered him; to the waters on which they were accustomed to glide in'their birchen canoes, in pursuit of the finny game; to the scenes of their boyhood sports and battle triumphs; to the grounds where the ashes of their kindred reposed; the soil sanctified to their hearts by the blood of a long 43 THROUGHII THE FLAM'ES AND BEYOND. line of heroic ancestors, whose history was recorded in its forests, prairies and streams;-and it is scarcely strange that heart-pangs were plainly shladowed in the lines of those tawney faces as they turned toward the setting sun to undertake their weary march. A~here they were going they knew not, except it was a far-off locality, where they would be out of the way of the white man, and removed from the temptation of killing him as a trespasser. The Indian of history is depicted as a stoic. Hie must be a stoic indeed to endure, unmoved, the sundering of the dearest ties of the human heart; and these Pottowattamie braves were none the less objects of comnmisseration because they suffered and made no sign. Although such agony cannot be "winked out of sighlt," they kmeiw-"how sublime a thing it is to suffer and be strong." COMAIENCEMIENT OF PROGRESS. With the Indians away, the great fear of emigrants was removed,. andl people from the eastern States flocked rapidly to the Nortllhwest, not a few taking up their abode in Chicago. Among thile business men who were prominent at this date may be mentioned, John H. Kinsic, P. F. W. Peck, G. W. Dole, S. B. Cobb. John S. Wright, Philip Carpenter, Walter Kimball, R. 3I. Sweet, John Bates, A. Clybourne, Star Foote, E. S. Kimberly, S. D. Peirce, R. J. Hamilton and B. Jones, several of whom are still amonIg us, and all are well remembered by our leading citizens of the present. Reail estate, in the form of both "in" and "out" lots, advanced rapidly in price under the fresh demand, andc business generally took a new departure. The great increase in the packing of beef and pork was remarkable —Ir. Clybourne alone packing three thousand hogs and six hundred beeves in the winter of 1834-5. This is a small aggregate from our present standpoint, of course, but taldking our population and resources at that time into the account, it is wonderful. The valley of the Wabash supplied most of the cattle and hogs that were packed here for severs y-ears, and still remains a great source of supply for our porkers. From this date the business of the town was very brisk, and during the winter it seemed difficult, for several years, to find help enough to transact it satisfactorily. Beef, pork and grain, from all the new settlements, came here for a market; and the furs and peltries, from the far-off hunting grounds, that came, in 44 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. exchange for all kinds of products, the lumber and other articles, constantly increasing in number and extent, threatened to overwhelm the force employed to take care of them. Emigration from the over crowded states of the east and from foreign countries, was strongly urged, but the demand for labor was in excess of the supply for many years, as business continued to expand even beyond the expectations of those who were most hopeful of the prospects of the town. GRANTING OF THE CITY CHARTER. On the 4th of Mlarch, 1837, the city charter was granted, an event that was hailed by great rejoicings of the people, as investing them with power to inaugurate and execute certain improvements that could not be encompassed under the town organization. The first municipal election was held on the first Tuesday in MIay of the same year, at wlhich HoIn. Wm. B. Ogden wvas chosen mayor. The first census taken in the following July, gave a population of 3,989 white persons, 513 of whom were under five years of age; 77 colored; and 194 sailors belonging to the port of Chicago. There were about eight hundred voters, but the poll books indicated that only 707 voted at the municipal election. This census also proved that there were 398 dwellings, 29 dry goods stores, 21 grocery and provision stores, 5 hardware stores, 3 drug stores, 10 hotels, 17 lawyers offices, and 5 churches. 3Iost of this population was the result of three years emigration, and a large majority of the improvements the product of three years of laborious industry. The year 1837 was an eventful one for our people. It was this year that Congress made an appropriation of $40,000 for the enlargement and improvement of the harbor, and this year that the first cargo of wheat was shipped from the port. These events were big with future promise, and have more than fulfilled the just expectations of those who inaugurated them. RAPID ADVANCES IN VALUATION OF PROPERTY. The advance in real estate, that commenced to attract attention throughout the country as early as 1833, lies at the foundation of most of the wealth of Chicago capitalists, as well as of many capitalists elsewhere. This advance made many rich quite unexpectedly, and even contrary to their anticipations. The veteran John S. Wright says, in a note to his "CHICAGO; 45 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE:" " Although famous for the sagacity of its citizens, Chicago is not without those who have made for tunes in spite of themselves; because they have not been ad dicted to wasteful benevolence, and have happened to own real estate which has been closely held from natural habit, and not from any appreciation of the future. One of these millionaires, when efforts were making to start the Galena IRailroad, argued against it, because railroads would stop the advent of the 'prairie schooners,' 500 to 1,500 teams then daily arriving, and with their stoppage'grass would grow in the streets,' was his sagacious declaration. Another one thought my distribution of petitions for the grant of lands for the Illinois Central Bailroad was impolitic. Said he. "' Why, don't you see that the railroad will enable farmers to run off theirproduce to Cairo, while the river and canal are frozen, which, if kept till spring, would have to come to Chicago?' "I replied, Don't yoze see that that gives the farmers of central Illinois the advantage over others in the choice of markets? Whatever the course of the carrying trade, you may risk the prosperity of Chicago upon the prosperity of the farmers.' "This, however, is the very place for such men to make fortunes. If they will only invest their money, berate the tax gatherer, and never give anything-which is not dangerous-they will surely become rich if they live a few years, however unwise their purchases." }Ir. Wrighlt's reminiscences are peculiarly valuable in this connection, for several reasons. 1. He was one of the early settlers of Chicago, having emigrated here in 1832. 2. He invested largely in property from the first, and had a peculiar interest in watching the fluctuations of prices. 3. He subsequently invested largely for the account of others, and enabled them to become rich on the results of his excellent judgment. 4. He has spent the best years of his life investigating the philosophy of real estate advances in Chicago, and, therefore, "speaks as one with authority." We find his work,* above referred to, more authoritative on the subject under consideration, and more exhaustive, thani any publication extant. The extent to which we have used many of its facts and figures is acknowledged in the proper place; but we cannot resist the temptation to make use of the exhibit * CHICAGO; PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE. By John S. Wright. 46 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS LT IS. followiug, as detailing the experience of a shrewd but thoroughily concientious "operator," and we take the liberty of extracting it from 3Ir. Wright's book in such detatched form as seems to us to bear most directly on the main question. He says: "In 1832, at the age of 17, my father took me to Chicago, with a stock of merchandise. The town then contained 150 people, exclusive of the garrison; two frame stores, and no dwellings except those built of logs. After remaining a few weeks, examnining the country south and west, and satisfying himself that lihe had made the right location, he left me to shift for myself. IIn 1834 hlie removed his family to Chicago and lived till 1840, havin, his first convictions strengthened year by year that it was rapidly to become one of the largest cities of the country and of the world. "Though a mere boy, I, too,became impressed with the advantages of the point which was the western extremity of the great lake navigation, with a certainty of its connection, by canal, with the Illinois and Mississippi rivers, and which was the natural coimmercial center of a country so fertile, so easily tilled, and so vast in extent. In the winter of 1833-4 I induced a wealthy uncle to take some purchases wvhich I had made, expecting to share in the profits. He took them, and has made out of those and other operations, through me, several hundred thousand dollars, but all the benefit to me, directly or indirectly, has been $100. He came to Chicago in the spring of 1835, and, the next day after his arrival, said if I would sell his lot-one of those which I had bought about fifteen months previously for $3,500for $15,000, he would give me one hund)ed dollars. I sold the lot that day for cash, and the $100 was reckoned into my credit in our final settlement in 1838. < %,% X% %,%` *` "No one could have then anticipated the power of railroads to build up great commercial points, and their wonderful multiplication, especially from Chicago. These have not only expedited the development of the West, but concentrated and bound to its great commercial center with iron bands the business and traffic which at great cost otherwise would still have come here. They have served to fix, beyond all peradvenlture, what some might then have regarded as problematical: that is, which city in the west is to have the supremacy. "In 1834, I began to operate in real estate on my own account, and in February, 1835, went to New York to buy merchandise, and sold for $10,000, a forty acre tract which had cost $4,000, the profits of which more than paid for all my other purchases. Thereafter increasing my operations I sold in the spring of 1836, to various parties in New York, real estate for over $50,000, receivin, about two-thirds of the pay cash in hand, and giving 47 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. my individual obligations to make the conveyance when I became of age, the July following. My father would have been mny heir, in the event of my death, and they knew lie would fulfil my contracts. "I had then, in 1836, acquired a property of over $200,000, without any assistance, even from my father, never having used his money for any operations, the store being his, and for conducting it only my expenses were paid. My uncle was the only relative who could have aided me, and he never would, even temporarily. So far from it, he was in my debt continuously from 1834 to outir final settlement in 1838. "But 1837 brought ruin to me, as it did to nearly all who owed anything; though it was not so much speculation in real estate, as engaging in mercantile business, that involved me. At that age it seemed desirable every way to have regular occupation to promote good habits, and in accordance with my father's wishes, I purchased, in 1836, a warehouse and dock lots, to engage in the shipping business, which cost $23,500. My whole indebtedness was about $25,000. I had nearly $20,000 due me, which was supposed to be well secured, it being chiefly the final payments on property of which over half the cost had been paid. To provide ample means for business, I sold in the autumn of 1836 a tract adjoining the city for $50.000, quick pay. This trade was unfortunately broken up by the merest accident, and thereafter I had no opportunity to sell at what was deemed a fair price. I came in possession of the warehouse 1st of May, 1837; and though having small cash resources, I thought best to commence business, hoping there would soon be a favorable turn. But all went down, down, and I was soon inextricably involved. The money used to buy these lots for business, not speculation, would have carried me through. "In 1840, my property had all gone; one piece that had been worth $100,000, went for $6,000; another that had been worth $12,000, went for $900, and so on." * * * * * * * * "I resolved in some way to get a larger interest in property here, and, in the autumn of 1845, went to New York to try and obtain funds. Having leisure, I wrote a series of fifteen or twenty articles for the Colmmerc)ial Advertiser and the Eveniizf Post, about the various agricultural products of the West, their profits, etc., the minerals, manufacturing advantages, the canals, railroads, that wouL(l be built, etc., but not till the subject of the state debt was reached, was the rapidity of progress realized? Illinois bonds were then only worth 25 to 30 cents on the dollar, and three years of accrued interest not reckoned, so prevalent was the impression that we could never pay the state debt; and such a fearful load was it considered that immigration here was considerably affected. But it was shlownl fairly and conclusively, that 48 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. by 1858 or'59, our state would pay her full interest without any increase in the then rate of taxation; and for two years [written in 18S60] we have done this, and our bonds are above par. "No prediction gives more satisfaction than this. Little as the public were influenced by these views, improbable as all then regarded them, to look back upon, they now appear plain common sense, just such as any business man who would study the subject ought to have arrived at. "Thlough no one could see the future of the West and of Chicago as I did, nay own confidence had never been so strong. The examination incident to the preparation of these newsp.tper articles brought more clearly to view than ever before the abundant resources and great na'ural acldvantages of the immenise territory tributary to Chicago, and my determination was strengthened to buy property here. "By examination, I fotund Frederick Bronson, iEsq., would sell a block on long credit for $30,000, with only $1,000 paid down. It was upon the river, near the heart of the city, and somewhat improved. I made prudent estimates of its present and prospective rental, and found it could be made to pay for itself with a small outlay. But I could make no one so see it. There was not the least confidence in Chicago, it having been for ten years a synonym for all that was wild and visionary. Ir. Dyer, of Chicago, also had commenced prior negotiations with MIr. Bronson, and not wishing to interfere with him, my endeavors were postponed till their negotiations should be closed. "I had no means of my own to buy with-could get no one in New York to think favorably of my projects-knew not where else to apply, and, after months of vain attempts, returned home, having purchased nothing. In April, 1846, MIr. Bronson sold this block to Mr. Dyer for the $30,000. A few months after I bought it of him for $37,500, having ninety days in which to secure the $7,500 advance, and the $1,000 he had paid. By much solicitation my brothers were prevailed upon to give this security, and the Bronson contract was assigned to me. "I clung to this block, prefering to pay this large advance, rather than buy other property, because, having no capital, or means of raising any, it was necessary to get such as, by its income, would pay for itself. I knew this would do it, and it was the only piece of the sort, in any considerable amount, to be found. This was large enough, 320 by 600 feet, to be an object, particularly as I was confident that by the time it was paid for inl ten years it would be worth $200,000 and over. It was actually worth in 1856 over $150,000. % * % * * X * "In 1846 the best lot on the north side, 80 feet on the river and North Water street, and 18U feet on Clark, a bridge street, was 49 THROUGH THE FLA,MES AND BEYOND. offcred for $6,OC0O, andcl for years I urged friends to buv it. The owner klept advancing his price, till in January, 1850. I induced a couple of Virginia friends to take it at $9,000. In 1SO856 that lot -was worth $110,000, and is now (1860) worth $700,000, and has all the time yielded a good gtound rent. "But these purchases, thlough apparently so judicious and profitable, were a heavy load to me and my brothers for years. I could not mnake capitalists see through my spectacles, and iione would lend me the aid of their money. The w idening of the river cut off rents largely for two years, and the excavatiuns, building of docks, warehouses, etc., had run me into dcebt, at two to five per cent. a month, and a brother was an endorser, greatly against his will, for $15,000 to $20,000. In the spling of 1850 he insisted upon relief, and having our affatirs disentangled, and learning the Galena Railroad would buy all of tho blocks for a depot, he urged its sale. lIe had acted generously towards me —fewv brothers would 1have done as muueil-acnd his request was reasonable, notwithstanding it involved suchl a sacrifice of my expectations. Tle block first bou,ghlt for $37,500, was sold to the company for $60,000. * 9 * *- * * * * "In the investigations incident to the writing of several articles for New York and Boston papers, in 1848-9, about western railroads, laying down five or six roads that must be built, I was forcibly struck witlh the congruity of interest between Chicago and the cities of New York and Boston, in l)ringilg business to the lakes, to make it tributory to those cities and to the intermediate routes. I endeavored to demonstrate the importance of extending to Chicago the eastern lines of railroads, and thence argued that lwhen once they reached here, competition would insure the construction of all paying roads. Has not the result justified thlese predictions? True it is, the competition and railroad mania have done for us much more than was anticipated, but was it not a natural result o~ interest that eastern capital should build roads from here as from no other point? That it has l;een done is a fact, and I see nothing visionary in the predictions." All the above extracts were included in a circular issued by IIr. Wright in 1860, and reproduced in his excellent book published in 1868. The entire circular, andcl, in fact, every sentence of the book, is of more interest to the people of Chicago, and to those who own property here, tlhanll any othler equal amount of printed matter we have any knowledge of, and will be souglit after by those who are inclined to be guided by judgment that is tempered by a long, varied and instructive experience. It is also reproduced as a part of the early history of Chlicago, as 50 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. reflected in the business life of one of its representative men, and therefore furnishing a demonstration of thile persistence and energy that worked so long and faithfully to encompass the pre eminence of the great metropolis oe the northwest, through the exertions of all who actively participated in the work. To the general advance in real estate, during the years therein r3?errcd to, above extracts are scarcely a fair index, and to the alvance in special localities, they give nothling like an adequate idea; but their chief value lies in their truthfulness, as applied to the general subject, and their conservatism from a purely busi ness stand-point. Regardingi instances of unprecedented advance and quick fortunes, there were several somewhat like the follow inrg: In the fall of 1860, a friend of the writer, an attorney of large practice, received a letter from an eastern correspondent inquirimg as to the location and value of a certain o'ghlty acre lot adjoil;npg the city, and requesting him, provided that in his opinion it was worth $20.000 as an investment, to examiine the recorded title and report its condition. The attorney reported the title clear, and, to give emphasis to his opinion of its value, added that he would give $20.000 for a half interes in it as a matter of speculation, provided it was purchased by his correspondent. It hadl remained the property of a family in New EnglanId about twenty-seven years, and their only idea of its value was probably gathered from what it was rated at for taxation; and whenl they offered it for $20,000, it was doubtless with a slight idea that it would!nig this sum. It did, however, but not with the attorney as a party in interest. In a few weeks the purchaser came to look at his property, and had been in the city but one day when he was offered $100;000 cash for it. This was a surprise, but next day $25,000 was added to the inducement. Hie concluded to "go slow," and therefore made an investigation of values of property correspondingly Iceated. The res-ult was astounding to all his preconceived notions of unproductive real estate, and hIe found lie had bought a fortune for a very small sum. After remaining in Chicago about fifteen days, he closed an agreement by which hlie received, then and thereafter, $27S,000 for his lot-a profit of more than a qiarter of a million of dollars on a sixty day's investment of twenty thousand! Instances like this are not common, even in the annals of Chicago. 51 /, ~ ;X;XjjX~;;;~;j;~~>~.;x~~ /1*/I, ,;~' ~ (S 0 Q ol u '14 0 9 0 z 0 cn -1 Pi a Pi 0 ;A PRESENT HISTORY. A BRIEF GIANCE AT SOME SALIENT POINTS OF CHIIICAGO'S PEE EMINENCE. Tile previous pages are designed as a glance at the Chicago of the past, and do not treat of the miraculous advance she nmadcle in the last decade in population, wealth, manufactures and trade. A retrospect of the last ten years of her history, properly detailed, would furnish matter for a ponderous volume, and we must therefore remain content with a very brief reference to the most salient points of her eminence. At the head of the immense artery of lake and river navigation of the country, with her web of railways that penetrates the whole land, even now binding the Atlantic and the far away Pacific in its iron bands, her facilities and opportunities, in spite of her recent disaster, seem positively unrivalled. It is abundantly demonstratedcl that the far off western prairie, even among the remotest of the territories, sends its products here, and comes here for its supplies, as well as the vast forests of Michigan, Wisconsin and Mlinnesota; that the copper and iron interests of the lake Superior country, the lead mines of the northwest, the coal fields of Illinois, and, to a considerable extent, the iron ores of Missouri, all find here their best and most natural center. Most of the millions of cattle and hogs that annually fatten in the great WAest, find their way to the slaughter pens of this city, and thenice are shipped to the markets of the world. A greater share of all the mineral and agricultural wealth of the great West turns towardl Chllicago with the faithfulness of the needle to the imagnet. Our railway system is the most perfect and f;Lrreachhlg in the world, and the invincible bulwark of our prosperity. Its great heart lives and pulsates here, and its iron arteries are sentient with the intelligent and sleepless energy of ten millions of producers, and with hundreds of millions of consumers, all keeping pace in the triumphal march of progress, andl pay-ing willing tribute to the ability that conceived and the energy that has erected our great mart of commerce. It is this admIirable railway system that will do more toward rebuilclding THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. Chlicago than all other agencies combined, for it represents a capital in its possessions and dependencies, the loss of which would be sufficient to bankrupt a nation, and that would remain practically dead without the business furnished by the traffic of this city; therefore Chicago must be restored without delay, and rebuilt so thoroughly that a recurrence of the great disaster is rendered impossible. It is out of the question for any railroad system to succeed without commercial interests to feed it, and -whlere these interests are small, railroads cannot be made to pay. It is an invariable rule, however, that as facilities are increased, business will enlarge. Increasing commercial prosperity always demands an increase of railroads, and as railroads are multiplied, commerce naturally increases. The means of increasing our commerce are incomputable by the ordinary intellect. All the vast regions of uncultivated lands in Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, iJinnesota, and most of the immense undeveloped tracts lying west of the iississippi, are sources upon which Chicago will eventually depend to accelerate her commercial growth and raise her to empire as the metropolis of the richest domain the sun shines upon. Neither our grain nor packing interests will be materially impeded by the accidents of the fire, and general business has already resumed its accustomed chlannels and is prospl)erous-with population and business so alert in the rebound fiom a fall that would have proven an overwhlelming disaster to at least nineteen of every twenty cities of the world, and withvl vital interests that demand the utmost energy in the rehlab)itation of the city to save them, it is not an astounding prediction that at the end of the next decade, Chicago will have doubled in business, population and wealth. It will disappoint lher best friends if she does not. Some fears are expressed that real estate will deteriorate now, a,nd that lots in the burnt district will be less valuable than before the fire, for a year or two to come. Those who are badly involvred, and therefore obliged to sell, will not realize as much for their property as under more favorable conditions, but prices generally will not recede, and the demand will soon bring about a material advanice in really desirable property; for strangers are even now coming here to invest capital and entgag,e in trade, and this influx will increase more rapidly than ever before in our history when the world is convinced, as they soon will be, of our 56 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. ability and determination to recover from the reverses of the conflagtation. And the world will discover then when we have surmounted the temporary inconveniences occasioned by lack of warehouses, elevators, shops and hotels to accommodate our trade, our business will continue to increase in the same or even a larg,er ratio than that which made us famous and universally enviecl previous to the events of 8Sth and 9th of October, 1871, of which the succeeding pages are a faithful and unbiased record 57 PROMINENT BUILDINGS DESTROYED AND THOSE PRESERVED WITHIN THE BURNT DISTRICT. SEE MAP ON OPPOSITE PAGE. 20. Evening Post and Staats Zeitung. 21. Farwell Hall. 22. Bigelow Hotel. 23. Academy of Fine Arts. 24. Palmer House. 25. Ogden Hotel. 26. Jones' School. 27. Michigan Southern & Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad Depot. 28. Ill. Central R. IR. Land Department. 29. Ill. Cen. R. R. Depot & Freight House. 30. Galena Depot. Ch;cago & N. W. R. R. 31. Historical Society. 32. Turner Hall. 33. M. ()g(ensI' House. Not Burned. 11, Water-Works and Water Tower. 35. L:ynn Block. Not Burned. 1. Sherman lHouse. 2. Briggs' House. 3. Metropolitan Hotel. 4. Chamber of Commerce. 5. Republican Offie. 6. Mieller' Jewelry Store, and Baker & Co.'s Engraving Rooms. 7. Matteson House. 8. Aadms' Express Office. 9. A. l. U. Express Office. 10U.U. S. Express Office. 11. Tremont House. 12. Opera House. St. James' Hotel. 13. Field & Leiter's Store. 14. First National Bank Building. 15. Chicago Times. 16. Boolisellers' Row. 17. Drake & Farwell Block. 18. Tribune Building. 19. Custom House and Post Office. 36. P. F. W. & C. R. RL. Depot. n,ot Bur-ned. 37. M1ilwaukee R. R. Depot. Chicag,o North Western Rt. R. rot Burnzed. 38. C. &. N. W. R. R. Depot. Not Burned. 39. Adams' House. 40. Massasoit House. 41. City Hotel. 42. McVicker's Theatre. 43. Armory Police Court. 44. Gas-Wor ks. 45. Elevator A. A. Methodist Church, (Wabash Avenue.) .Not Burned. B. Flevator. Not Bvrned. X. Bridges Burned. Tunnels under the River at Lasallo St., connecting N. & S. sides at W1'aslhin,gton St., also cornleteIlg S. & W. sides. ;i I I _____ F I ED' AllNi T U ITIN TI EU1N l lQSIAUl. ED AN'D THOSE PRESERVED WITHIN ToE BUBAT DISTRICT, SEE OPPOSITE PAGE. A GENERAL OF WHAT THE AUTHOR SAW AND HEARD, INCLUDING HIS PERSONAL VIEW OF THE FIRE, AND MANY THRILLING INCIDENTS. All intelligent persons that witnessed the burning of Chicago are prepared to testify that nothing is more indescribable than a great conflagration. Nothing is more bewildering, exciting, electrifying, astounding and weirdly stupendous. It is a spectacle that forces into activity all the emotions of the heart, but benumbs judgement and disconcerts action. Its waves and barbed tongues, rolling and darting hither and thither, spangled with phosporic tints, and gleaming against the sky like a surging sea of flame, lashing the shores of the world, and seeking to overwhelm them; or, again, roaring, dancing, and frolicking through block after block of elegant structures, warehouses, residences and factories, sweeping everything in its torrid pathway with the rapidity of thought, "As though the lightnings there had spent their shafts, And left the fragments glittering on the field;" are sights that petrify the intellect and strangle reflection. Another aspect of the freaks of the insatiable fire-fiend was calculated to impress the beholder with the idea that all the magicians, sorcerers and performers of "devil tricks" in Glubdubdrib had found their way to this devoted city, and, inspired by its native spirit of excelling in everything it undertakes, were playing pranks to shame the very imps of Hades. And so the panorama of that most dreadful night of Sundcy was ever changing, ever stunning with some new and unexpected catastrophe, melting with its tales of woe and benumbing with its horrors. Of all the thousands of incidents that are indelibly impressed upon the recollection of the writer, to remain there while life lasts, and probably through the countless ages of eternity, there is one whose details are painted with a distinctness far beyond artist's cunning, and that stands out in the wide waste of misery like the wreck of a noble ship on a desert shore. Still, it would now seem "like the baseless fabric of a vision," were it not that the evidences of its reality are only too tangible, and constantly before the eyes of every denizen of the city that is disposed to see them. CCOU T TTHROUGHI THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. It was near day-light on Mlonday morning, the 9th of October, that passing along Lake street, we discovered an aged citizen, whose reputation for wealth, integrity and remarkable business (capacity is well known throughout the land, hatless, coatless, his teeth chattering and his snowy locks tossed by the wind, gazing with tear-bedimmed eyes at his large warehouse immediately opposite the place where he stood, but which the flames had not attacked. "Do you think the fire will reach my place?" he asked, as we took him by the hand. The flames were raging within a block of his place, and, by taking a careful view of the probabilities, it appeared that we would not have long to wait for the wreck of this apparently substantial monument to his affluence. We expressed a hope, scarcely felt, that it would not, and made a movenment to hurry along, when he said, imploringly. "Stay with me a little while. I have had some bad luck. Sfy house and everything it contained is destroyed, and I must try to save the store." "Have you saved your books and papers?" we asked. "They are in the vault, and could not be safer anywhere. Do you think there will be occasion to remove any of the goods?" " Where could you put them?" "Oni the pavement here. There is no other place." "It would not save themi. They would be stolen or burned. Let us hope the fire will not reach you." We knew it was utterly vain to hope, but what could be said or donle under the circumstances? It was equally certain that we could render no assistance by remaining there, but it seemed cruel to leave our old friend in his helplessness. We talked to him very much as one would address a child standing in fear of some threatening injury to its toys, and hlie seemed to appreciate the attention. The fire was speeding in our direction, roaring, surging and leaping in very madness, bearing down everything before it in crash after crash of ruin, from which each reverberation was like commingling of wails and groans for the loss of homes, and lives, and wealth, and the violent rupture of a great city's throbbing heart! The shrieks and moans of the hurricane were terrific, and doubly so from their weird and unearthly prolongation, until they forced an 62 C('HICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. echo from some point miles away across the foaming waters of the lakle, that came back to us like the exultant laugh of ten thousand fiends. The monarchs of Stormn and Flame were holding their highest revels in concert, and no human agency could bar their advance.. It appeared from our position that the flames were still more than half a square away, when suddenly a bright shaft, like lava at a white heat, shot skyward from the buildings on the opposite side, and in less time than it takes to write it, our old friend's business house and merchandclise were seething in the superheated cauldron of the great conflagration. It was a miracle, andl little wonder, that he stood motionless, with both hands raised aloft, his tearless eyes almost bursting from their sockets, and the contortions of his features indicating a degree of agony that words can never paint. It scon-ed as inexplicable as a thunderbolt from a cloudless summer skly, and was certainly quite as startling. The terrible heat and the flaming embers chifting down upon us rendered our position extremely critical; but the old gentleman refused to move. The loss of his suostance was the crowning misery, and the last terror of the calamity for him had passed. As entreaty availed nothing, hlie was at last borne away by gentle force to a place of refuge. There was a strange commotion in his brain, and the lilght in his eyes appeared of more than earthly brightness, painiu! to look upon, and giving him a strange aspect to ev-en his nmost intimate acquaintances. Hle was left in charge of a brotllherhol,od whose charities are indiscriminate as the dew and ilini;taO'le as the globe we inhabit; and hlie could not have had kinder care nor more assiduous attention from those of his own blood. Tw-vo days thereafter we saw him again. Twenty-five years of toil could not have acdded more to the infirmity of his appearance than was wrought in those forty-eight hours. At the first greetimg his mind recurred to the scenes of 3Ionday morning, and ho comraanded, in a piping voice. Save the store at all hazards. Blow up every building for ten squares on all sides, and do it thoroughly. The store mu)st be saved. Hah! there's the fire now. Where did it come fronm? Why didn't you blow up those buildings? Then he commnencecld lamenting: "All gone-the l,Lbor of a life-time ends in smoke. It is a hard fate, for nothing can be more certain tliain 6") THROUGIH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. that I and my family are beggars d d beggars! We must go to the poor house or starve." We tried to console him, but in vain. He soon became sullenly uncommunicative, and in a few moments sprang to his feet with a sudden start, and strode up and down the room at so rapid a pace that ere long he was covered with perspiration, and breathing like one almost exhausted. No entreaty could prevail upon him to desist from this violent exercise; but finally he commenced biting his lips, and soon large drops of blood and froth were falling from his white beard to the floor. He was suddenly bereft of articulation; tried to speak, but could not. Then his gestures and the contortions of his countenance were hideous to behold, and it appeared that death must end his sufferings in a short space, unless means of relief were devised. He continued to stride up and down the room, but with a reeling gait, and sudden, momentary stops, striking his forehead with clenched fist, beating his breast, and clawing the air like a blind man in a desert. "He must be quieted," remarked good Dr. H, who had been untiring in his attentions on the stricken man. "How to do it is beyond my comprehension, but we must manage it in some way, or put him in a straight jacket." "Is the case so bad as to require such a measure?" we asked. "One of the worst I ever saw." At this juncture the old bookkeeper of our aged friend entered the room and gleefully exclaimed. "Our insurance is all ri,lght. We will get every dollar of it." The old merchant turned and stared at him for a moment, then a smile of recognition passed over his features, and to our utter surprise, he inquired. "Eh, J,? what's wanted now? Anything the matter?" "I came to tell you the insurance is all good. It will all be paid," "We had $10,000 on the stockl," mused our friend. "It was $50,000," said J. "Don't you remember telling me to take out an additional policy for $10,000, more than a month ago, when the new stock commenced arriving?" " Yes." Then there's $45,000 on the building." 64 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. "Yes." "And $27,500 on your house and furniture." "3I1aking, how much does it all make, J? I'm not apt at figures to-day." "The whole amount is $122,500," "Just so. And that is all we have left. It will scarcely cover what we owe." "We don't owe the half of it, sir; and then we havc three times as much due us as we owe altogether, and every dollar of it good." "But the notes and books are gone." "Ohl, no; they are all safe. We have opened the vault and found everything sufficiently preserved to answer the purpose of settlement; and, unless I greatly miscalculate, we have at least a quarter million left to resume business on." "Is this all true?" "Every word of it, sir." Such information was medicine to the diseased intellect, and the merchant looked around into the faces of attendants and visitors as though just awaking from a terrible nightmare. He had forgotten insurance, debtors, everything but the fact that the material evidence of his wealth had vanished, and therefore his mind had followed it away into the strange oblivion that swallows up so much of the wealth, happiness and intellect of tlis strangely chequered life; but the information that he was not pecuniarily ruined, reanimated that wandering mind, when it was shut and barred to all other intelligence, and the estimable old gentleman recovered his health and much of his former appearauce within the next ten days, and has now resumed business in as good credit as ever. This incident was Malmost a tragedy, and very tragic up to the turning point. Its most valuable lesson points to those precautions against utter loss that every thorough business man avails himself of, and which, in times of disaster, are always sure to save him something as a foundation for a fresh start in his trade or profession. There is still another lesson, which inculcates the rule, that, at the worst, affairs are never as bad as they seem, and that a calm review will alwvays demonstrate the truth of this principle. The account is less sad than a different termination would have rendered it, but no other result could have impressed it more indelibly upon the mind of the writer. 65 THROUGH THE IS AND BEYOND. The detailed history of the Chicago fire will never be written, because there is an almost inconceivable mass of details that can never be gathered-many that can never be known, because their principal actors fell before the advance of the enemy they were striving to repulse-and even if all could be readily ob tained, their voluminousness would prevent publication in any but a book of the most extraordinary size. It is well under stood that the first fire, on Saturday evening, the 7th of Octo ber, 1871, would have become historical as "the great Chicago fire," had the calamity stopped with its extinction; for it burned over more than twenty acres of a densely settled portion of the city, including many warehouses, residences and factories; and its losses were summed up in an aggregate quite appalling to the insurance companies throughout the country. The fire of the following night was the Jormungundar that encompassed al most three quarters (in money value) of the city, and crushed it in its incandescent embrace. And it was the calamity that today stands out on the historic page as the severest that ever befell a people through the ravages of the fiery element-therefore the point upon which this narration inevitably challenges the attention of the reader. It was about ten o'clock of Sunday night, October 8, 1871, that an ominous alarm rang ouG upon the devoted city from the great bell of the Court-House, booming far above the shrill whistle of the angry gale, now fast increasing to a hurricane, and admonishing our citizens of more than ordinary danger, in the doubly destructive combination of wind and flame. The bell continued, at short intervals, to toll the deep-toned notes of danger, which, borne afar upon the angry blast, struck consternation to every heart that realized the peril of a fire under the conditions of the city at that date, urged on by blustering Libycus. Hundreds with whom the writer has since conversed felt strange premonitions of disaster-mysterious feelings, creepings of the flesh and a great change in the vital circulation-as the notes of alarm continued; and it is probable that many other hundreds were similarly affected. It was really the portent of doom to many brave hearts, of a sort, akin, to that which is described in the following lines of Dryden: 66 0.HIICAGO AS liq WAS AND AS IT IS. , A kind of weight hangs heavy at my heart; My flagging soul flies under her own pitch, Like fowl in air, too damp, and lugs along, As if she wore a body in a body, And not a mounting substance made of fire. My senses too are dull and stupifield, Their edge rebated; sure some ill approaches, And some kind spirit knocks softly at my soul, To tell me fate's at hand." When the general alarm sounded, and all the steamers flew through the streets, prolonging the boom of the bell in shrill shrieks, thousands of citizens rushed out to learn the location and progress of the conflagration. Flost of the buildings in Dekoven and Taylor streets were already destroyed, and the great tongues of flame were licking up the wooden structures in that part of the city as though they were the merest tinder boxes, leaving no trace of their form or material to mark the place where they stood, but a moment before. The crackling of the fire - among the dry lumber resembled the regular discharge of musketry by an army corps in retreat; but there were still worse evidences of panic than are usually displayed by a routed army, in the hundreds of people, men, women and children, already fleeing to a place of safety, and bearing upon their shoulders such articles of household use as seemed to them valuable at the moment. They were utterly demoralized, and mingled screams of agony, shouts of alarm, prayers and imprecations, with occasional blows right and left, in a jangling noise of words unknown, and gabble without meaning. Eyes blind with blood, and features wildly distorted with terror, people unclad, half-clad, some wrapped in bed-clothling, women dressed in the apparel of the opposite sex, and some protected only by their night-wrappers, carrying beds, babies, tables, tubs, carpets, crockery, cradles, almost every conceivable thing of household use, formed the most noticeable features of this terrific route. An aged dame, with a dog under one arm and a large mirror across the opposite shoulder, was apparently impressed with the belief that she had saved the better part of her fortune, and marched forward with a smile of satisfaction illuminating her grim physiognomy. An Irishman attempting to drive a pig of a remarkably piggish disposition, found he had taken a contract too great for his ability, and as the porcine quadruped at length eluded his pursuer, and fled back toward the flames at a tremendous lope, the porcine biped exclaimed with an inadmissable adjective: 67 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. "To hell wid ye, ye spalpeen;-ye's poor pruperty onyways." A mian carrying a bed and leading a goat met with even worse luck. A horse-cart, evidently driven by a mnad-muaL, came rattling through the crowd at breakneck speed, and the goat, docile enouglh before, was panic-struck at the noise and unusual colmmotion, and braced himself to pull away. The man laid his bed .on the ground to have the use of both hands in managing the goat, but he was too slow. One wheel of the horse-cart cut the goat in twain, and the other struck, tore and tossed the bed, and scattered it to the winds in a shower of feathers. A drunklen brute came swaggering along with a delicate, welldressed little girl in his arms. The child was crying bitterly, and appeared anxious to escape from her custodian, who addressed her with oaths and threats. "Whose child is that?" inquired a citizen. "3line," replied the ruffian, and he attemptecd to hurry along, "Not so fast," said his interlocutor, detaining 1him. "Is this man your father, little girl?" " No sir; he's a bad man, carrying me away from ma," said the child. The scoundrel raised her aloft and dashed her from him with such force that she would have been killed instantly had she struck the ground; but fortunately she was caught in the arms of a gentleman who had stopped to learn the cause of the dispute, and vwho proved to be a friend of her parents and glad to take charge of her as a temporary protector. The kidnapper was summarily sobered by half a dozen blows well administered by a sturdy fist, which was the only means of punishment at hand, but had hlie ornamented the nearest lamp-post, with a rope about his neck, justice would have been better satisfied. These incidents are related merely to show the general character of the panic, and the nature of the flight, and not for their intrinsic importauce. The picture as a whole, treated by a Hogarthian pencil, or described by a Dante,mnight be readily accepted as a "Grand march through hell, of the legions of the powers of darkness." 3Ieanwhile, the flames were keeping even pace with the terrible gale, and spreading fearfully. The efforts of the firemen to stay their progress, although apparently well directed, were futile It was the remark of one of them that they might as well have 68 CHICAGO AS IT WAS A\D AS IT IS. pumnpedl oil as water upon the burninig miass, for the water appeared to burn like some intensely infiamable liquid, andtl certainly had no effect in extinguishling flaime. Another declared that three feet from the nozzle the stream wras broken and scattered in spray like a heavy clew, or the foam on the crest of a dividing wave, and of course utterly ineffective to stay the spreading of thle fire. So the fearful pyrotelchnic wall, seething with the power of an inborn, indescribable calidity, and towvering skywardl more than a hundred feet, came rumbling down to the banks of the river, near Twelfth street, and, at a single bound crossed over to destroy the heart of Chicago's business life. The firemen were now completely exhausted, and there were none to dispute the advance of the destructive element, that extended its Briarean tongues and arms in every direction. WTith the people, it was a race for life, and the stampede that now commenced will live in the recollection of those who witnessed it as long as time shall last. The inclemency of the night had increased, and the temperature was of that disagreeable, penetrating sort that searches the very marrow and chills it to torpidity. Libycus was still in the ascendant, and so the fire struck out, in obedience to his prompting, for the northeast, where its approaches were most to be dreaded. People were now driven from elegant residences, from comfortably furnished rooms on the uLpper floors of business houses, from hotels, cottages and janitors' lofts, and all at once the streets were swarming with an excited mass of humanity, of all ages, colors and conditions. If the crowd was less motley than the first described, it was quite as varied in nationality, and no less noteworthy on account of the "impediments" with which it burdened itself. AIen sta,ggering under large trunks, immense bundles, even bureaus, seemed inextricably mingled with express wagons, carts, wheelbarrows, trucks, drays and buggies, with which the streets were filled, all overloaded with goods and furniture, and malking their best speed to escape the approaching destruction. Mothers slightly enrobed, and carrying tender babes, were crying bitterly, while others cherished their young at their panting breasts and were silent in their overpowering agony. Little children, unattended, many in their night-dresses, bare-footed, bare-limlbed, heads mun covered, ran about in utter distraction, crying for parents or nurses; and even the poor dogs added their howls and cries to 69 THROUGIH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. the general dismay, making that night of doom still more hideous and appalling. Still the colossal besom of that holocaust swept down toward them with terrific speed, presenting the( appearance of a great wall of glowing brass, and increasing its altitude as it devoured block after block of towering edifices. Many a man and woman sank to the earth in sore affright, many from utter exlhaustion, and probably a few from hopelessness of their ability to escape the impending catastrophe. Some were recovered by friends, and others remained and met a fate too ghastly for con templation. Away sped the crowd, afar off to the bleak prairie, to the lake shore, to parks, cemetaries, any where remote from com,btusti ble material, and out of the way of the blinding stormi of sparks, embers and smoke. The streets were constantly filled by rein forcements to the mad chase, and frequently so tightly wedged by the great mass of humanity that the weak were trampled, bruised, and some probably killed outright. Persons conveying valuables were ruthlessly despoiled of them, pockets were picked, and one gentleman reported that his coat was stripped from his back in the very thickest of the crowd, and taken away, as by some invisible hand, before he could discover the perpetrator of the outrage. Even women and children were robbed of shawls, cloaks and trinkets, and outrageously abused by the mob of thieves and roughs that now came, like so many vultures, for their prey. Well authenticated instances of remarkable hair-oreatfi escapes are sufficiently numerous and interesting to form an attractive book by themselves, full of startling details and semitragic catastrophes; but real tragedies are scarcely less plentiful, and probably deserve precedence in the record, but we must be permitted to intermingle them to some extent, for the purpose of avoiding monotomy. At the intersection of Randolph and Market streets stood a large building, rented in separate rooms and suits for offices. On the fourth floor lived the janitor with his wife and four children, and an orphan niece, Marie. When the flames reached the building the family rushed out upon the roof, but all escape was cut off. The mother sank down, with the babe in her arms, smothered by a blinding cloud of smoke and flame, and expired. The father stood up strong and resolute, lifted the little boy of 70 t ~. - ______~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~i ~\ __ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ F,.T —- IVIET-P TIT~' JV —-TTIZA —,D IIIS FA.NILY PEITSII. ,Hsiuai si Ni-v:i, — ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~' —-4;jf I- Ili~ t ~~(.__ Ni CHICAGO AS IT WAS ANI) AS IT IS. four years to his shoulder, placed a protecting arm about his two little daughters, and strove to find his way to an neighboring roof, from which a stairway descended. His efforts were vain. The little girls ran back and fell beside the mother. Then a great cry of anguish went up from the father's heart, and even above the roar of gale and flame his voice was heard by the people below, and piteous, helpless hands reached out in futile symipathly, as if to help him Then through the smoke and flame, to the very edge of the building, the poor man rushed, and for a moment lifting eyes and hands toward heaven as if in silent prayer, he sprang out from the burning roof and came downward. The awe-struck people gazed upon a shapeless mass on the pavement, which for a moment appeared very still and lifeless, and then a bright little head showed itself, and a childcl's voice cried out. "You hurt my w'ist, papa. ILif' you head up-dat a dood papa." The father was dead, but the child only slightly bruised, and is now well and well cared for. At the corner of Clark and Washington streets, in a window of a third floor room, a man stood serenely watching the general devastation, while the roof over his head was on fire. People shouted themselves hoarse to call his attention to the impending danger, but hlie merely smiled without moving. "He's crazy," said one; "drunk," said another; but he appeared both sane and sober, and was probably inclined to tempt fate a little, and save himself at the last moment. He waited too long,. The heavy roof canme crashing down through the floors, and he was inextricably buried in a heap of burning timber that landed in the basement, a perfect mass of glowing embers, within three minutes firom the time the the roof gave way. In one of the larger buildings on Randolph street, a portion of the upper floors of which were used for lodging rooms, men were seen dodging about from window to window, the untold agony depicted on their features, after the basement and first floor hadcl became like "a furnace seven times heated." Two were rescued at great risk before the walls began to totter, but just as it began to seem possible to those outside that all might be saved, the huge walls swayed to and fro, and came clown so heavily that they smothered the flames they had fedcl but a moment before, and buried several lives in the smouldering debris. 73 THROUGH THlE FLAMES AND BEYOND. A young man named George Armstrong,, a firemall, had been hard at work through many weary hours down town, when somehow word came to him that the fire was sweeping along Randolph street at a rapid rate. His home was on that great thoroughfare. His pretty wife had held up their wee baby to kiss him for the first time that morning. He sprang away like a deer, spite of his weariness, for he must know at once that his loved ones were safe. Reaching the spot, he saw his wife, Jennie, at the window with the babe in her arms. The fire had reached the lower part of the building and cut off all hope of her escape. He screalumed frantically for a ladder, and, when it was brought, threw it against the window and sprang up the rungs. The flames caught it at the bottom, and a longer one was raised, reaching, the roof. George swung himself lightly from one to the other, and soon touched the eaves. Quick as light he ran along the already hot slating, opened the sky-light and called "Jennie, darling, come up quickly. You wi!l be safe here." She had fainted when she heard the ladder go crashing down, for she imagined her brave young husband had fallen a victim to the sea of fire below; and now, hearing his voice calling her far uip in the dim space, she thought him in heaven, and that she and baby would soon join him there. But some blind instinct led her to clamber up as fast and far as possible, and soon the fresh air kissed her hot, blind eyes, and she found herself in her husband's arms. As he took the babe from her, she whispered, "We can die together, George. Thank God for that!"Just then a stream of water from a well-directed hose fell full upon them, and through the drenching torrent a brother fireman came and guided them down the slender, swaying ladder, down past windows where the glass was crackling and the flames playing in and out like the forked tongues of ten thousand devils, in safety to the firm pavement. And though they had nothing left but each other, no happier people are living to-day than George Armstrong and his sweet little wife, in their humble shanty on the lake shore. And now the fire-fiend ruled the city like a tyrant, and man was powerless. Dismay took possession of the bravest hearts. Some wildly declared this to be the beginning of the destruction of all things earthly, and railed at those who strove to save life or property. Others, both men and women, besotted themselvo 74 7 PUBLIC SQUARE. TIIE CO IPT HOUSE IN FLAMES. CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. with whisky, andcl indulged in orgies more gross and unseemly tlian those of the licentious Bacchanals of tlhe old legends. 3[any of the drunken were roasted alive, and others died in the streets from exposure, or were trampled to dleatli. With those who kept tlheir heads, it became necessary to make quick de cisions on all questions concerning life, property and a tempor ary retreat, and especially on means to remove themselves and famlilies beyond the reach of the flames. When the fire attackedl the Smith and Nixon block, at the southwest corner of Clark and Washington streets, the panic was at its height; but some wiseacres declared it could not reach the court house, although the block above named was known to be a colossal tinder-box, as it proved. The court house was in a blaze before the spectators were aware that fire had been communicated to it in any manner, altlihough the shower of sparks. with which it was enveloped should have taught them that its tar roof must go and after that its utter destruction was inevitable. The great bell was still thundering forth the note of alarm when the flamies caught its frail tenement in the windings of their hot embrace, wrestled and surged for a moment, and then the deep-mouthed brass went tumbling and ominously clanging, to the earth. The people had become so accustomed to its-boom-boom —that for a moment after it fell they were startlecl into silence; but it was only thle silence thal, preceeclecl the louder peal, and soon the uproar redoubled with Babel sounds and Bedlam outcries. The Shermlan House and all the towering blocks in that vincinity were soon ablaze, and the wild retreat of guests and lodgers, in hacks, express wagons, carts, and all manner of vehicles, gave an additional ilmpetus to the miotions of those already occupying -the thronlged tiorolughfares thereabout, hustling, maiuming, crushling the old and feeble and the poor, trebly excited and exhausted watchliers of, and participators in the terrible events of five hours of continued, everchanging, but bloody and remorseless tradgedy. It was here, amid these scenes of terrible affright, and wild hlallo, "confusion worse confounded," that the panic took a new departure, and divided the column of the retreatiug rabble into two seetions, one of which dashed madly up Washiington street to escape by the tunnel, and the other rushed in indescribable confusion for Randolph street bridge. Both of these points were reached amid the clatter of heavy wagons and steel shod hoo~s, 77 THROUGH THE FLkIES AND BEYOND. the cracking of whipis, oaths of the drivers, curses of staid citizenis, and wild screams of women and children. The crush at the tunnel is said to have been unutterably terrific. The occasion had made every point where safety could be sought common ground to all classes and conditions of people, and so there rushed into the dark, cavern-like tunnel, bankers and thieves, merchants and gamblers, artizans and loafers, clergymen and burglars, matrons and rag-pickers, maidens and prostitutesrepresentatives of virtue and vice, industry and improvidence, in every grade, and strangely commingling all the diverse elemacents of a mixed community, animated by one purpose and seelking a common object. Here the Graces and Gorgons met, Euphrosyne, Aglaia and Thlalia, hand in hand with Stlhenlo, Euryale and MIedusa, seeking the poor boon of life at the utter sacrifice of all those weak conventialisms, that only a few short hours ago were thoulght to be the sole object and aim of existence. Here Pidicitia mingled her tears with the Lady Goclivas and Cy-prian nymphs; and here 3Iercurius joined CEdipus in supplicating the triple throne of Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. There were bruises and groans, blows and piercing shrieks, prayers, imp)recations, pocket-picking, andl icndignities unmentionable: but, strange to contemplate, no loss of life, nor fatal hurt. And so this motley crowd, finding ingress and egress reasonably free, under all the circumstances, and the prospect beyond promising of chances for life, continued to pass through the Cinmmerian cavern, with their little sav-ings and pilferings, their treasures and trinkets and babies, in tolerable order. But the lord of misrule was indubitably the reigning genius at the bridge. The stampede here continued to increase in wildness and disorder until cursing became the only mode of expression, and blows were soon as free as curses. Every imiaginable variety of vehicle had been called in requisition to convey the trunks and mierchandclise of fleeing citizens to a place of safety, and many of the drivers were clerks and mere boys, -whose skill at the business was born of the occasion, and awkwvardly cldemonstratedcl. Wagons, carts, and trucks were consttntly colliding, and the shouting of men, the whistling of the steam tugs, the roar of the conflagration, the terrified snorting of horses, and barking of dogs, together with the prolonged 78 CIIICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. shlieks of the tempestuous wind, made a discord as harsh, weird and uncouth, as if * * * "all the imps that fell, Had raised the banner-cry of hell." Many persons were sadly abused and terribly hurt in the struggle for precedence, and many valuable articles destroyed in the shameful contention. To gratify a momentary spite goods were seized and thrown into the river, and a case is reported where the entire effects of a family, including the vehicle, a light handcart, were dumped into the water in return for an insolent word. Gunpowder had now been called into requisition to stay the further progress of the devouring element, and on every side the heavy detonation indicated the demolition of proud structures that other proud structures might be spared. The great warehouses in Lake street were going down before the fiery wall as though they were mere bundles of piece shavings, and among the ruins and impending catastrophes of this mart of commerce is where the present chapter was introduced to the reader. It seems appropriate to present, just here, a strictly historical narration of the fire; and thereafter its main incidents are detailed by "a cloud of witnesses," as embodied in their personal experience 79 I IllI'' ~ I ~;iAIj'>Ij'A A a The Great Conflagration HISTORICALLY TREATED. THE FIRST FIRE. Saturday night, October 7th, witnessed one of the fiercest conflagrations that had ever previously occurred, not excepting the conflagration of 1857, in the Garden City. At about two o'clock the alarm sounded from Box 248, and ere the quivering boom of the great bell had ceased to vibrate over the empty streets, the sky grew fiercely red in the direction of Canal and Van Buren streets, and soon long bright flames leaped through the glow, and lit up the whole neighborhood with wonderous brilliancy before the fire department could arrive at the scene of destruction. Late as the hour was, the glare of the fiery illumination soon attracted vast crowds to the neighborhood of the fire from all quarters of the city, who thronged and choked up all the streets in the neighborhood. The wind rose as the flames gained in strength, blowing strongly from the South-west, so strongly, indeed, that blazing fragments of wood of no inconsiderable size shot along on the gale like rockets, to the distance of many hundred yards. Indeed, as lookers on beheld the meteor shower of white and crimson charcoal sparks raining all over the space enclosed between the river, the South branch, Wells street and Jackson street, and even flying over the river to the North-side, they began to fear, with reason, that the conflagTation might spread beyond control of the fire department. The fire had been raging for some time before discovered, and owing to the nature of the substance feeding it, soon converted the building into a furnace. It originated from some unknown cause in Lull & Holmes planing-mill on Canal street near Van Buren, the wind then blowing due North, and the flames consequently spread in a Northward direction. But soon after the wind veered to the North-east, and the flames commenced to rush thlat way. The fire had already spread to the right and left, and burnt a distance of two blocks from Clinton to the river; but when the wind changed everything combustible from the East line of Clinton to the river, midway between Jackson and THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. Van Buren streets, was swept away by the flames. Unfortunately frame buildings-lumberyards, and substances inflammable as tinder almost, covered and surrounded thie space which the fire was threatening, and the fire department was powerless to quench such a hell of flame as roared over several squares within a very short time. Then the bright waves of fire swept to the North of Jackson street, and seemed as though they would spread in the very heart of the city. Jackson street, between Clinton and Canal, was composed in great part of wooden buildings, lumberyards, carpenters' shops, frame dwelling houses, and saloons, and in little more than a quarter of an hour, the whole of this space was enveloped in roaring flame. Between the railroad tracks and the East side of Canal street, bounded by Jacklson and Adams streets, were several coal and lumber offices, to the rear of which lay vast piles of anthracite coal to the amount of many hundreds of -tons. The slight office buildings were licked up by the flames within the space of a few minutes, and the coal-mounds actually set on fire. And then the fire ran unider and over the Adams street viaduct, licked up the railings and sidewalks of the iron bridge, and devoured the timber freight depot of the United States and Adams Express Companies at the North-east corner of Adams and Canal. But a comparatively small quantity of the contents could be removed in time, the greater part of the goods being consumed. To the east of the long shed, then blazing, stood a number of passenger cars belonging to the Pittsburg and Fort Wayne Railroad. To save the cars it was necessary to tear down the shed, which was effected in time to prevent the cars catching fire, in which case the flames must have communicated with the Pittsburg and Fort Wayne depot, and thence burned as far as Mladison street bridge. The citizens, however, worked desperately here, for they recognized the possible danger of the fire spreading still further to the East and North-east, and the fire department was unable to operate with any chance of success in this locality. Hlere the fight with the flames was successful, and tho citizens conquered, in spite of a hail of crimson cinders and clouds of acrid dun-colored smoke so thick, that it might almost have been cut with a knife. M,enwhile the firemen were battling with desperate energy against the progressing flames on the South line of Adams street, 81 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. West of Canal, and stretching nearly to Clinton street. The buildings were nearly all frame residences, and should the flame make good its position here, or cross to the North line of wooden structures, the consequences would be terrible. The firemen could, as it was, being but twelve hose-nozzles to play upon the leaping battalion of fire that was marching grandly over the roofs. The heat was so terrible that the crowd, several hundred feet away, shrank further back before the angry glare —yet the heroic firemen would stand within a few yards of the blaze itself, only retiring to take breath. Of course so hot a wood fire must burn itself out to a certain extent, there was no possibility of absolutely extinguishing it, but they subdued the fiery ardor of the flames and prevented them from spreading to the houses on the other side of the street. The crowd that stood upon Madison street bridge, and thronged the thoroughfare itself, were appalled by the spectacle before them. The sight was almost sublime, the heavens were speckled and spangled with flying cinders and vivid sparks, and the flames of the burning coal-heaps and lumberyards threw a vast Rembrandtesque light far down the streets on the North side, upon the rigging of the tall-masted vessels in the river, and upon the sea of awe-struck faces that gazed into the crimson sky and the tossing sea of flame. Many were obliged to flee for their lives, mostly poor laborers who lived in the consumed frame buildings with their families, or in the cheap boarding houses in the burnt quarter. But happily no lives were lost as far as is known. One old woman was only awakened from her sleep by the entrance of the flames into her bedroom on Jackson street, and was only saved by the heroism of a printer, Robert Campsie by name, who, at the risk of his own life, brought her out of the burning building. Both rescuer and rescued were severely, but not dangerously burnt. Her dau,hter-in-law, a young woman of the name of Margaret Headley, was left behind, and has not been heard of; it is, however, probable, that she succeeded in making her escape. One accident of a rather serious nature occurred during this conflagration. A large shed stood at the corner of Clinton and Jackson streets, whose roof afforded a splendid view of the fire, and was moreover easy of access. The crowd continued to gather upon it, until it suddenly gave way beneath the weight of 85 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. about 150 persons, and the whole structure caved in. A consiclderable nuiller of the victims of this disaster were severely injureled, none we believe fatally. Ianly of thle saloon-keepers in the bLrning district, distributed their stock gratis to the crowd, when they perceived their propertv was doomed. The "Chicago" steam fire-engine was working away at the northwest corner of Canal and Jackson streets, when the side of a burning edifice close by suddenly fell in, giving vent to a whirlwind of flames vlwhich enveloped the steamer in an instant. The engineer and firemen were compelled to desert her as they valued their lives, but shortly the fury of the flames spent themselves in that quarter, and they rushed in and pulled her out of the reach of the fire. The engine was considerably damaged, but was able to continue operations during the latter part of the fire. The heat destroyed the western wires of the Western Union Telegraph Company, as well as several of the fire alarm telegraph wires. In one of the lumber yards a party of eight men found themselves overwhelmed by fire on all sides, and only saved themselves by throwing a quantity of lumber into the river, and paddclling across. The only effective method of saving about thirty wagons and trucks belonging to the coal-yard, was by sinking them in the river. Altogether the fire of Saturday night, October 7thl, covered about twenty acres of groLund and destroyed in the neighborhood of $700,000 worth of property. The insurance cannot cover more than a third of the loss, according to the Chicago Tribune. The following extract from the same paper gives perhaps the most accurate summary of the extent of the conflagration. "The boundaries of the fnire may be briefly summarized as follows: Between Clinton and Canal streets, about three-fourths of the area south toward Van Buren street. Between Canal street and the river, about nine-tenths of the area, south toward Van Buren street. Between Canal street and the river, and Adams and Jackson streets, the entire area. Between Canal and Clinton streets, and Adams and Jackson streets about seven-eighlts of the entire area, the only remaining builcldings being the frontage of about 80 feet on Adams and 128 feet on Clinton street. On thie east side of Canal, north of Adams, about 100 feet in frontage, consuning the Express Company freight sheds." 86 BUITNING OF THE CRTOSBY OPERIA H SE,I THE GREAT FIRE OF THE EIGHTH OF OCTOBER. Since the day when "tall Troy" crumbled away in flames, no fire has surpassed the Chicago conflagration in its terrible work of destruction. The value of the merchandise alone consumed by the flames was at least double that of the goods destroyed in the great fires of MAoscow and London combined. No city ever suffered a greater pecuniary loss by fire, whether Jerusalem smitten by Titus, Rome when sacked by Alaric, or Carthage when given up to fire and sword by her Roman conquerors. The estimate of loss of life, great as it seems, is really astonishingly low when we consider the extent, rapidity and fierceness of the fire whose devastating power was trebled by the furious gale. For two days the city was a rolling ocean of flame, and presented an aspect whose awful grandeur might rival the spectacle of a seething roaring volcano crater. The torrent of fire swept over a space of from five to seven miles in length, averaging a mile in width, and no building, probably in any city of the world could have withstood the typhoon of flame and fire combined. In many instances the action of the fire bore a strange resemblance to that oi lightning. Blank walls were pierced in an instant by a vast tongue of flame, as though struck by powerful artilleryindeed a sheet of fire would frequently leap from the roof of a blazing edifice over a space of several hundred feet, and dash through the blank wall of a loftier edifice opposite, at one flaming bound. It must of course puzzle the reader to imagine how the fire could make such appalling and rapid progress, licking up marble edifices like wax-work, and sweeping over a space of hundreds of square acres, all in a few hours from its commencement. To understand this appalling fact it must be remembered that in the first place the very finest and most solidly built portion of the city was surrounded and sprinkled with a vast number of frame buildings, and were thus, as it were, encircled by fuel of the driest and most inflammable description. Once the wood, tar and shingles were well lit the more lightly built portion of the city was a terrific furnace, and the buildings of iron and marble were as THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. nothling to wiIthstand the fearful force of the flames. It is pretty generally known that shortly before the fire, an agent of one of the great English Insurance companies visited the city with the intention of establishing a branch office there, but immediately abandoned the design, upon observing the material of which a great part of the city was built, and its exposed situation. He ex pressed his opinion freely enough thlat were a conflagration once well started the city must be partially if not entirely consumed; and scarcely had hlie returned to England when his predictions were verified. If any one desires to comprehend accurately the effect of the flames upon those massive buildings of iron and stone which we considered impervious to flame-let him build a small model of such a building with the usual materials, and place it in an iron blast furnace. In the furnace-fire of Chicago the (,7.s( came in the form of a strong wind from the south and w-est, whichl fanned what might otherwise have been bat a serious conflagration into a tPhlegethon of looming, flashing, rolling, rushing, crackling billowvs of furious fire, which hurled a fiery spray into thle red bosom of the incandescent heavens above. "For nearly fifteen weeks," says the Chicago Joitir-al of Com7i ccc, "there had not fallen enough rain to penetrate the earth one full inch. Everything in and around the city was heated, cl-y andl parched. Indeed, all through the West, fires were devastating extensive forests and destroying ripening crops, dlriving frontier settlers from their cabins and even overwhelming entire villages. For dclays the prevailing atmosphere of our city seemed ready to kindle into a blaze." AWith such surroundings and antecedents, with a hard gale blowing over the city from the hot, parchedcl-up prairies, we can hardly be surprised that the fire didl its work with such fearful rapidity at the outset, that the efforts of the firemen to master the terrible scourge proved wholly unavailing. MIuch has been said on the subject of the demoralization, real or imagined, of the Fire Department on the night of the 8th. It has been hinted that several were intoxicated, and that the brigade, as a body, were utterly inefficient to accomplish their duty properly. These shameful rumors have happily proved to be w-itlhout foundation. A more gallant struggle against an overw-]lelming, all-powerful, merciless league of wind and fire, was never sustained by braver mulenwho freely risked, and lost,life and limb in the terribly unequal fight. 90 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. The truth is that courage and strength and energy must wither under excessive fatigue consequent on unintermitting labor and want of rest; and at the time of the general alarm, on the evening of the eighth, the whole department was almost worn out with the labor of previous weeks. " During the first week in October," affirms the same able periodical, from which we quote above, "our fire department had been alarmed more than thirty times, and within a few previous weeks there had been several very large and fearful fires. The burning of an immense warehouse, in the rear of Burlington Hall, had involved a loss of threequarters of a million. When the great calamity came upon us, these ruins had hardly ceased to smoke. * * * On T, October 8th, the last day of the Chicago of twenty years, our fire department was' used up'." It appears that in addition to the labors of weeks, weary labors of fighting flame, the entire department had worked unceasingly for twelve hours immediately preceding the final summons of the alarm bells. Human strength, whether constitutional or muscular, cannot endure such a strain without yielding to fatigue. Nor is it to be supposed, as many seem to have imagined, that under these circumstances they could compete in vigor and celerity with the firemen of Cincinnati or St. Louis, who rushed to bear aid in the terrible emergency. ll such comparisons as those we hint at, are at least cruelly unjust, not to say imbecile. The origin of the fire is not known, or rather we have no means of ascertaining by what agency the first building was ignited. The story about the old woman who went into her stable to milk her cow by the light of a kerosene lamp, which lamp said cow kicked over, is a pure fabrication. No such woman or cow probably existed, save in the imagination of some manufacturer of caiards. The fire first broke out, it is well known, in a small stable to the rear of a frame building on the north side of De Koven street, almost half-way between Jefferson and Clinton streets. The cottage belongs, (for yet it stands isolated in the midst of ruin, a strange fact!) to a laboring man and his family. The famous stable at the rear contained their little stock, a horse and several cows. Perhaps we might more properly call the building a barn. They never milked their cows later than 5 A. iM., and 41 P. i. in order to be in full readiness to dispose of their milk in time 91 TIROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYO'ND. for their neighbor's breakfasts and suppers. On the Sunday in question the cows were milked as usual by the wife and daughter, and at an hour when daylight rendered the use of lamp or candle unnecessary. Witnesses prove beyond a doubt that the family were all in bed, without exception, before the fire broke out, when they rushed to the barn only to find it too late either to extinguish the flame or to liberate the animals. It is, therefore, certain that neither old woman, cow or kerosene lamp had anything to do with the fire whatever. It is also highly incredible that incendiarism on the part of the owners of the frame house on De Koven street should have originated the conflagration. Neither is it at all likely that the fire was anything but wholly accidental, notwithstanding rumors. The Journal of Conmmerce remarks that in a high wind smokers might step aside in the lee of this little edifice to light their pipes and cigars. At least from the situation of the house, they would be more likely to stop there for the purpose of striking a match than at any other part in that neighborhood. A spark alighting on this tinder of hay and shingles, and fanned by the wind, would soon wrap the slight barn in flames. From this point the fire spread East, West, and North, with incredible swiftness, and when aid arrived the fire had taken so strong a hold upon the slight structures in the neighborhood, that all efforts to check it proved unavailing. All the buildings on De Koven street, from Jefferson to Clinton, were burned level with the pavement, if we except the little dwelling house in the rear of the fatal barn, which stands perfectly uninjured among the charred remains surrounding it. As the fire extended, it gained in strength and fierceness, spreading faster and faster-and, as is always the case, the flames seemed to increase the power of the wind which gained power and fury in proportion. The fire department worked bravely and well in this neighborhood. The fire did not extend further West than Jefferson street, and all the buildings on that side were rescued, although several caught fire from the intense heat. About two squares and a half were saved on the other side of the street through the gallant efforts of the firemen. But the furious wind now commenced to catch up burning shingles, showers of charcoal sparks, and firebrands of all kinds, carrying them towards the North-east with 92 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. terrible effect. From Clinton street to the South branch of the Chicago river, including Canal street, Beech street, and the railway tracks, the whole space was covered withlumber-yards, wooden buildcling,s, quantities of coal, and, in short, everything that would make a good fire. With the exception of a few buildings at the corner of De Koven and Canal. and a few on Canal itself, everything was burned to ashes, the very streets being scorched and blackened. But the remainder of the West side of the city was saved. The fire had reached the portion devastated by the flames in the conflagration of Saturday night. North of Harrison and Van Buren streets was the blank space upon which the fire of the previous evening had spent itself, and the skeleton walls and scorched brick afforded it nothing to feed upon. Were it not for this fact, the south side would have been altogether destroyed as completely as the north had been. As it was the fire ate up more than fifty squares of the West Division, also devouring four or five of the bridges to the south side. When the fire leaped the south branch of the Chicago river, it revelled among the very same combustible material as it had devoured on the West-side; coal, lumber, planing mills, frame houses, &Ce. It attacked the Armory and licked up everything in it, surrounded the gas works and exploded the gasometer, and then the situation really became alarming. Iron and stone melted and crumbled in the terrible heat, and the fire brigade had barely obtained a good position, when the flames, rushing along as fast as a man can walk, drove them before it, and it was with difficulty that they could save their engines, so that finally it became extremely dangerous to oppose the fire. "3Iarble buildings" says a Chicago paper "were burned to quicklime, crumbled, fell and disappeared as though they were mere toys of children. Thus onward rushed the flames, advancing north and east with great rapidity and'eating,' even against the wind, steadily south." The fire then leaped the stone-yards and open lots to- the north of the Michigan, Southern and Rock Island Railroads, and in an extraordinary short time devoured the famous Pacific Hotel, one of the largest in the world; and the huge depot with its lines of cars soon melted away in the flames. Far north of Van Buren street the fire licked up gigantic squares of marble palaces, and approached the court house. This splendid build 93 THROUGH THE FLAIES AND BEYOND. ing occupied the center of a square, and owing to its isolated situation, and its being surrounded by fire-proof buildings, was considered free from danger. But even before the sea of flames surrounded it, the ruthless wind hurled flaming brands and sparks upon the great dome, and the edifice was soon a mass of flames. The watchman started the machinery that tolled the ponderous bell, and fled from the building, the bell boomed forth the news of the terrible catastrophe until the vast dome tottered, reeled, and fell, crashing into the interior with all the weight of its several million pounds. The awful shock shook the burning city, and then the Chief of the Fire Department threw up his arms in despair; for he felt that all hope was gone. The prisoners were liberated when it became evident that the court house was doomed, and all escaped with the exception of five murderers who were securely handcuffed and marched off by the police. It is said that the liberated thieves commenced their nefarious trade under the very walls of their blazing prison, and cleared a wagon load of clothing that was passing at the time. The interior of the Post-Office was completely eaten out by the devouring fire, but its walls successfully resisted the raging element, and even checked the flames for a time in a northeasterly direction. Near thlis were many of the finest buildings Chicago could boast of, including the elegant hotels between AIadisonl and Lake streets; and the splendid office of the Chicago Tribune, 3IcVickers Theatre, and the Palmer House, all stood within a few squares of the glowing walls of the Post-Office. Soon, however, the flamne advancing eastwardly seized upon the Palmer House, wrapping it from roof to basement in a shroud of yellow fire, and the flames bursting from the roof, leaped astoni-shiing distances to yet intact edifices. In a very short space of time all the surrounding buildings were blazing as fiercely as the Palmer House, itself, and the Tribune building, as well as 3IeVicker's theatre, crumbled away before the fames which rushed inupon them from the rear. The North division was untouched until a little after twelve o'clock, on the same night, when the fire leaped the main branch of the Chicago river, andl licked up everything combustible with its vast tongues of flame. The people dwelling in the North division-which indeed was composed mostly of dwelling 94 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. houses-soon found themselves compelled to fly to the lake-shore. Many, however, plunged into the North branch of the river, or sought to cross on anything that would sustain them. This side of the city contained the greater number of the fine churches, palace residences, shade-trees, several depots, and enormous warehouses and manufactories. The North pier extended far into the lake a thousand feet, and close by were great stores of valuable material of all kinds. One of the finest buildings in the West was here consumed-McCormick's Agricultural Implement Works, containing property and stock valued at over $1,000 000. But the chief loss which the city endured was that of the Water Works. It may as well be known, that although the water works were uninjured at the time when the fire seized the North-side of the river, yet soon after they ceased to supply water. This may prove a good lesson to those who believe that a city can always depend upon an engine-supplied reservoir for its supply of water. Although the Water Works' structure was deemed fireproof, yet there was a considerable amount of woodwork about it. The Jotrnnl of Commerce wisely exclaims: "A few thousand dollars additional expense on the water works would have saved many lives and much treasure." The flying brands and sparks set fire to the roof immediately above the engine-room, the furthest point from the sweeping surging ocean of flame, that had already traveled at least three miles in six hours. This was instantly extinguished, but soon after the great breweries close by burst into roaring flames, and tongues of fire were darting over the turreted roof of the Water-Works' building. Within the atmosphere became heated to a degree that rendered it almost impossible for the workmen and engineers to perform their duties thlrough danger of suffocation. At last the fire burst throu,gh the roof above their heads, and they were compelled to abandon the buildcling, having first stopped the machinery in order that it might be injured as little as possible, and the safety valves were raised in order that the ponderous boilers might not burst. Then the immense roof crumbled in upon the three mammoth engines, and for ten days and ten nights, three hundclredcl thousand people suffered from the want of pure water, even for cooking purposes, many being obliged to content themselves with the water from the river. Happily the canal had(l lately 95 TIHROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. been deepened, which caused the cool pure water of the lake to flow towards the 31ississippi; and the South branch of the river was sweet and pure compared to what it had been one year ago. Even at this time, however, it was water only to be used in cases of necessity. Now the fire advanced without enemy to oppose it, and swept on towards the cemetery which bounded Lincoln Park on the South. The fire department had drawn off to the lake-shore, there to oppose the progress of the rushing whirlwind of fire by another mode of attack, while the flames were swallowing all the buildings in the direction of Lincoln Park. One remarkably handsome wooden residence, together with a fine conservatory, were spared, however, by the hungry element which left no other building standing it its destroying path. The ghoulish flames even battened upon the tombs and monuments in the burial ground, cracking and calcining marble monuments, licking up wooden crosses and signs, and even devouring the trees that shadowed, and the grass that grew upon the graves of the dead. It could gain no hold, however, upon the green foliage and shrub bery of Lincoln Park, whereupon it changed its course to the North-west. It licked up everything until it reached the prairie, and then it burned up acres of prairie grass and trees. All the bridges to the West-side soon disappeared, and the La Salle street tunnel, which communicated with the South-side, was so heated by the surrounding flames, that at the entrances on both sides of the river the iron railings were twisted and bent as though warped by the hands of a fiery Vulcan, and the rocks split and shivered as though by lightning. As long as the bridges remained intact, they were covered with fugitives and vehicles of every description. But soon the only means of communication with the North, South, and West sides of the river was cut off, and fugitives could only obtain succor through vessels along the lake-shore, or by a circuitous route to the re moter bridges, which were soon as crowded with fugitives as the others had been. And so the fire rushed on with its appallingly rapid work of destruction, until the prairie about the city was crowded with homeless men, women, and children, without shel ter, food or drink. As long as liquor could be obtained many men drank freely, and not a few fell in a state of sleepy intoxication upon the 96 /1'1 "~ \\' \t // I / ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ /1-I ~~ '- ~'' -', 'i," 1~ ' \' } CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. scorching pavement, little heeding the swiftly approaching and their terrible death. Alcohol had deadened their consciousness of all things. Then the roar of the red flames grew louder and louder, and the earth-shaking crash of falling buildings sounded nearer and nearer, till the scorching pavement upon which they lay seemed to rock beneath the terrible weight of the falling walls, but they slept on under the red rain of fire, till they became as the ashes which fell upon them. The gutters of the sidewalks and roads were frequently filled with blazing whiskey, alcohol, petroleum, or other inflammable fluids, which ran in streams of curling blue fire, or dancing red flames down the pavements. In several places the tar between the seams of the newly-laid wooden pavements caught fire and blazed from end to end; yet with few exceptions the wooden pavements proved a success and still remain in a marvellous state of preservation. The flagged pavements did not escape so well, and the huge stones cracked and splintered in the vast heat. Brick is the material that best endured the terrible Qrdeal; indeed, the greater part of the brick is still serviceable for building purposes. But marble was burnt to quicklime, freestone and limestone crumbled and splintered, iron melted and trickled like lava among the glowing ruins, and strong iron pillars were twisted and warped into strangely fantastic shapes. The rails of the stree-railways were subjected to such terrible heat, from tie blazing buildings on either side of the street, that they were raised in the middle from six to twelve inches and even two feet above the ground, the center bolts being drawn and those at the ends remaining undetached. Anything combustible would of coarse be burnt to a cinder by the mere heat of that awful furnace, even though the actual flames had left it untouched. One cur us fact with regard to the manner in which the various kind of pavements endured the heat, which is chronicled by the Journal of Commerce, is wellworthy of record. "On the north-test corner of the Court-HIouse Square is now to be seen artificial stone flagging, perfect, while the sandstone on both sides of it, and also the curbing, are entirely destroyed." But we are also told that even where the rails were lifted from the center of the streets and bent like a bow, from the terrific heat, the wooden pavements remain materially uninjured. The panic of that great multitude was truly terrible. With, in 99 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. some instances, fire onthree sides of them, they rushed to the waters of the lakes and dashed the liquid over themselves to keep their garments firom being burned by the shower of falling fire or the intense heat of blazing buildings. The cattle rushed blindly about bellowing with terror and trampling upon men,women and children. Rats, cats, pigs, and dogs, rushed among the crowd uttering cries of terror. Flocks of pigeons rose in the red glare and sought safety in flight until scorched by the fearful heat, bewildered and blinded by the terrible rain of fire, and the stifling smoke, they fell back into the blaze. Horses, maddened with terror, shrieked with that horrible shriek which is never forgotten by those who have once heard it, kicked and plunged, and often lay down in their harness under the rain of sparks, foaming at the mouth, and shivering in every limb. Perhaps the roar of the fire was even more appalling than the spectacle. The thieves had, as the popular phrase -goes, "a fine time." Among the struggling, cursing, praying, shrieking crowd, their nimble fingers worked unceasingly, and we have no doubt they reaped a rich harvest. It is tolerably certain, however, that many of them perished in burning houses, where, in their eagerne~ to obtain booty, they remained until after every chance of escape had been cut off. The police at such a time were almost powerless to act, and crime was, perforce, permitted to revel in well-nigh unrttrained freedom for a while. Under the guise of friendship, sharpers would frequently volunteer to take charge of valuable goods, whi, of course, were never again seen by their rightfulowners. Theeack-drivers were little better than swindlers, charging from fifty A a hundred and fifty dollars fare-even to crippled invalids. The reports of incendiarism, hanging, shooting, and summary popular vengeance, or mob-law, are probably without foundation, or, at least, may.be regarded as imperfectly substantiated. Several very horrible, and numerous romantically dreadful stories, have been circulated, we believe, by the lovers of the sensational. That a mob, under such circumstances, and in such a state of half-mad terror and frantic despair, would not hesitate to execute summary vengeance upon any parties who might be even slighltly slspected of incendiarism, is pretty certain. But the accounts of this nature lack evidence and can hardly be credited for want of proper substantiation. With regard to romance, however, there (-, 100 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. have certainly occurred more hair-breadth escapes and thrilling incidents than would fill a large volume, and these, too, of such a nature as would vie with the wildest fancies of the sensationalist. Twelve hours after the first alarm on Sunday night, the greater part of Chicago was dust and ashes. The fire soon began to work south against the wind, actually traveling along State street and Wabash avenue with almost as fatal swiftness as where the burning gale helped it along. It is curious, too, that the wind seemed to veer and blow from all points south, east and west as the fire proceeded, but the prevailing point was steadily south. Here, however, Phil. Sheridan led a forlorn hope against the flames, and began to oppose their progress in a new and yet more efficient manner. Powder was brought from the arsenal and buildings blown up all along the line of fire, but it was only by superhuman efforts that the fire was last checked at Harrison street. The sufferings of the women and children no pen can depict. The terrible shock brought on premature delivery in numerous instances. It is said that between four and five hundred children were born within twenty-four hours after the fire, and many an infant's first cry was heard by the bleak lake shore, or upon the cheerless prairie, on that terrible night. Many of the little sufferers born under a sky of flame, and many a fair and delicate woman, perished before the sun had risen upon the smoking ruins. A great number of children and young women were compelled to fly in their night-clothes, and died from the consequent exposure. In the fire itself, probably nearly two hundred souls perished, and the total loss of life, from all causes connected with the fire, must come to nearly a thousand. The telegraph operators stuck to their posts with an unshrinking heroism well worthy of record, until the flames had snapped, curled up, and whitened the wires, consumed the poles, and even destroyed the lamp-posts at the corners of the streets. Before the fire had ceased, except where the coal piles continued to blaze furiously and the shivering thousands returned to look upon the ruins of their homes, the city was placed for a time under martial law. Sheridan brought down troops, the oommand of the city being given into his hands, and Allan Pinkerton issued orders to shoot all thieves, incendiaries, or male 101 llTHROUGH THE IAS AND BEYOND. factors, without mercy. It was a timely order, roughs, thieves, sharpers, swindlers, robbers, burglars, came from all quarters like vultures to prey upon the corpse of Chicago. But after the panic was over, and the authorities were enabled to give their un divided attention to the preservation of law and public order, these rascals found themselves utterly baffled. When the news of the terrible fire flashed along the glowing wires to St. Louis, Cincinnati, and Louisville, the horror of the announcement lay like a nightmare shadow upon every heart and brain-when even the last means of communicating with the sister cities was cut off, the alarm almost grew into a panic. A whole city on fire in the North-west! Five square miles of splendid buildings roaring to the skies in flames! Five hundred millions worth of property destroyed l Thousands homeless, thousands starving, breadless, dying, millionaires reduced to beggars! The richest city of the west, whose wonderous speedy growth and prosperity was the admiration of the whole land, even of its rivals, turned into a hell of fire! Such was the news which appeared on the bulletin boards of every daily newspaper office, surrounded by awe-struck, sympathizing crowds. For an instant all was horror, astonishment, and terror. Then the trance was broken by the cry of "give us food, give us shelter, as you are men and brothers. Our beautiful city, of which the world was proud, is gone. Our women and children are dying, without food, shelter, or money. Help us in our terrible affliction." And then the great sympathy of millions awoke, the sister cities forgot all petty rivalries, and nobly set to work to rescue the desolate people. Firemen and engines poured from all quarters to the scene of smoke and flame. Money, food, and clothing, came in plenty, and the mother country, too, poured forth her gold, remembering that the new world had sent succor to the old in the day of need. The Nineteenth century showed it had a heart. The fire consumed nearly 3,200 acres, or nearly 5 square miles. The great fires of London, Moscow, and Constantinople, all combined, will scarcely equal the Chicago fire in the amount of space burned over. Nearlytwenty-five thousand buildings of all discriptions have been leveled with the ground, and the number of human beings rendered homeless is 111,000 at the very lowest calculation, according to the Journal of Commerce. No perfectly 102 F- - - tsI ~] V _______________________________________________ _____ ''I'''''till' I II it-" - 1111111 m I'j!j'P.9 fl en Ia's ii jri,,.r;''i# ____ - - U 4\l' t?ii11 'iii _ I — I i/ - - -'It I' -I C' I ~'." 7' It ' 1! If - ill - \ "\\\\\\\\\\ \ I' 111111' - __________ 'iii''' tI, ~-~-- - I __ K i —________ -- ~ _ _ VIEW PROM TILE COURT HOUSE LOOKING SOUTH-EASL 'k I t CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IB. reliable estimate of the amount of property destroyed has yet been made, the various reckonings ranging from one hundred to five hundred millions of dollars. Many of the most accurate calcilations have unanimously agreed on placing the loss occasioned, by destruction of property, and damage to business, at from three to four hundred millions of dollars, on which there was, according to the" Underwriter," nearly $100,000,000, insurance. The richest and finest portion of the city has been, as our readers must perceive, utterly swept away, nothing but blackened heaps of brick, stone and iron being visible. The only buildings left standing between the river and the lake, and the river and Madison street, are the Lind block, at the corner of Randolph and Market streets, Hathaway's coal-office and one of the Buckingham elevators on the lake shore. The destruction of five of the great elevators alone involved an enormous loss. THE ELiVATORS. Chicago possessed seventeen elevators at the time of the great fire, with a storage capacity for over eleven millions and a half bushels of grain. The fire consumed five of these with their contents, amounting to 1,600,000 bushels, of all kinds of grainprincipally corn. The elevators destroyed include the "Hiram Wheeler" with a capacity of 500,000 bushels; "Munger & Armor's Galena-600,000 bushels; "Illinois Central A," 700,000 bushels; and the "Union," 700,000 bushels. The remaining elevators however contain about 5,000,000 bushels which is more than sufficient for all present wants. PUBLIC BUII)INGS. The Court-House walls have successfully resisted the fire in the wings, although the central portion must be rebuilt, and the dome, with the famous electric clock, has been completely destroyed. The massive walls of the water works building are almost uninjured. With the exception of the Michigan Avenue Hotel, and a few others, the great hotels of Chicago are reduced to heaps of mortar, calcined marble, bricks and broken iron. The Pacific Hotel had been almost completed at a cost of nearly a million when the huge flames rushed into its fourteen hundred rooms and roared out of its numberless windows. The building occupied an entire square, was eight stories in height, and calculated when furnished to accommodate two 107 THROUGH THE AMES AND BEYOND. thousand guests. It made perhaps the grandest spectacle of the great fire. Besides the Pacific and St. James Hotel, the Sherman, Palmer, Tremont, Briggs, Everett, Clifton, Orient, Oldridge and other houses fell a prey to the flames. The brewers suffered terribly, nothing being saved of their huge establishments but a portion of the stock in the beer vaults. Moreover, the insurance on the proporty was generally light. BREWERIES DESTROYED. Lil's Brewing Company................................$500,000 J. A. Huck........................................... 400,000 Sand's Brewing Company............................... 335,000 Bush & Brand........................................ 250,000 Buffalo Brewery....................................... 150,000 Schmid, Katz & Co.................................... 60,000 Metz & Stage.......................................... 80,000 Doyle Bros. & Co..................................... 45,000 Moeller Bros.......................................... 20,000 K. G. Schmidt........................................ 90,000 Schmidt & Bender..................................... 25,000 George Hiller......................................... 35,000 Mitivet & Puoptel................................12,000 John Behringer................................. I..15,000 J. M3iller............................................. 8,000 William Bowman...................................... 5,000 John Wagner........................................ 5,000 Total............$2,025,000 The above loss includes, of course, the destruction of icehouses, malt-houses, stables, cooper and blacksmith shops connected with the establishments, which were utterly reduced to ashes. FIELD, LEITER AND CO' S Monster store only caught fire at day break. For more than an hour and a half several hundred men did all in their power to save it from the advancing ocean of flame. The building occupied an entire block, and from its isolated position, and its surroundings, being all vast structures of iron and marble, it was hoped that it might be saved. But the buildings on the opposite sides of the square, burst into furious flames, melting the great business blocks as though formed of wax and timber, and the heat became like that of Nebuchadnezzar's furnace. Then the largest dry-goods house in the West had to be left to its 108 CCHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. fate, and the flames were soon rioting among 2,000,000 dollars' worth of costly winter stock. BANKS &C. There is not a single one of these buildings left intact in Chicago. The bank vaults have, however, resisted the flames with success. The principal Telegraph offices were all consumed. All the records of deeds and mortgages-all the real estate titles, have been destroyed. The abstracts of titles in the office of Shortale & Hoard, conveyancers, were luckily saved. LAWYERS. There is not a law-office, or law-library, left in Chicago, nor an indictment in existence in the country against anybody, nor a judgment, nor a petition in bankruptcy. Duplicate files of important cases which the lawyers kept in their offices are likewise destroyed. DISTILLERIES. But three Distrilleries remain in running order. The establishments owned by Thomas Lynch, Graefft, Rocle & Co., Dickinson, Leech & Co., Keller Distilling Company, Kirchoff and Shufeldt's rectifying works were consumed. COAL YARDS. There is no doubt that fuel in Chicago will be dear and scarce during the winter. Every coal yard in the city caught fire, and vast piles laid in for winter were utterly destroyed. The coal stock of Rogers & Co., (lower yard), Robert Law, Dyer & Paynes, Holbrook, W. Johnson, Sydacker, Goit & Curtiss, Sweet & Williams, Richardson & Pratt Bros.-amounting to about 50,000 tons of soft coal, and 10,000 of hard coal, insured-was totally lost. Five considerable winter stores of coal were, however, saved, including Roger & Co.'s upper yards. NEWSPAPER OGRES. The offices of no less than eighty-five newspapers and periodclicals were consumed. Several dailies reappeared in very small size soon after the fire, and since that time many of them have attained their former size. The Tribune, Post, Republican, StaatsZitung, Mail, Times and Journal offices were amoral the finest offices destroyed. The Tribune Building was the last to succumb to the flames by several hours, indeed it was considered one 109 THROUGH THE MS AND BEYOND. Of the most thoroughly fire-proof buildings in Chicago. It was, moreover, one of the chief architectural beauties of the city. Every partition wall in the whole structure was of brick, the ceilings were of corrugated iron beams. It was erected in 1869, at a cost of not less than $225.000, and was seemingly so thoroughly secure that the Tribune Company had taken no insurance. On the first floor was the fire-proof vault, safes, &c., and the basement contained the engines, with two of Hoe's eight cylinder presses, with several folding machines, quantities of paper, &c. The building was completely gutted from roof to basement, and the loss of contents alone cannot have been less than $100,000. The fire-proof vault of the Tribune, however, proved perfectly trustworthy, and everything in it, even, a box of matches, was found intact. CITY PROPERTY. The following estimate of losses of city property under the jurisdiction of the. Board of Public Works is given by Commissioner Redmond Prindiville, who has devoted considerable attention to the subject. This estimate does not include the schoolhouses, engine-houses and apparatus, police stations, sidewalks, &c. The item of sidewalks only referring to those in front of city property, together with all street and alley crossings, which are constructed by the Board of Public Works. The item of the City Hall embraces only the west half of the Court-house, the remainder being owned by the county. The list is as follows: City Hall, including furniture......................... $470,000 Water Works engines................................ 15,000 Water Works buildings and tools..................... 20,000 Rush strret bridge.................................. 15,000 State street bridge............................... 15,000 Clark street bridge.................................. 13,000 Wells street bri(dge.................................. 15,000 Chicago avenue'bridge.............................. 26,700 Adams street bridge................................ 37,800 Van Buren street bridge............................. 13,470 Polk street bridge................................... 29,450 Washington street tunnel............................ 2,000 La Salle street tunnel............................... 1,800 Lamp posts......................................... 25,000 Fire hydrants...................................... 15,000 Street pavements................................... 250,000 Sidewalks and crossings............................. 70,000 Reservoirs.......................................... 15,000 110 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. Docks.............................................. 10,000 Sewers............................................ 10,000 Water service....................................... 15.000 Total........ $1,085,080 The schooner Stampede and the bark Glenbendal, with several other crafts, were burned in the river and in the dry dock, and two steam fire-engines at least, viz., Long John, and A. C. Coventry,were destroyed by the-flames on the West-side, being caught among the burning buildings. The walls of the Custom House, the First National Bank, and the Tribune building, are yet standing, but it is doubtful whether they will be serviceable again. Nearly all the mail matters were secured from the Custom House building. Bank safes were terribly heated, to such ai extent, in fact, that in several instances gold was meltedlinto a solid mass, and notes reduced to ashes. Several packages of postage stamps, worth about $100,000, presented a curious appearance upon being taken from one of the safes. The gum-adhesive had become heated and the sheets were soldered together into masses as hard as wooden or composition blocks. ADDITIONAL LOSSES. As has been previously mentioned accounts vary as to the destruction of property in Chicago, estimates varying from 150,000, 000 to more than double that amount. But certain it is that over sixty miles of streets, and more than 20,000 buildings have been utterly and completely destroyed. Fifty million feet of lumber have been consumed, together with thousands of tons of coal. The stock of leather was reduced about one quarter, $95,000 worth being burnt. Cyrus McCormick lhe manufacturer of the "reaper and mower machines," was perhaps the heaviest individual sufferer by the fire, losing, independently of insurance, no less than three millions. William B. Ogden, who also lost considerable property in the great Wisconsin fires, suffered to the amount of two millions. PotterPalmer was said to have lost the incredible amount of ten millions, and really loses at least a fifth part of that amount. John V. Farwell and John Young Scammon lost respective!y $1,500,000 and $1,000,000. Several other eminent millionaires lost similar amounts. ill Docks.............................................. Sewers....:........................................ Water service....................................... THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. The city of Chicago must have lost at least five millions in public buildings, bridges, destruction to fire-engines, &c., none of which property was insured. The loss by damage to street improvements, sidewalks, pavements, &c., falls upon the owners of building property. This is probably about the heaviest loss of all Only about 50,000 people have left the city, leaving it still with a population of over 280,000. The shrewdest business men of the West are all confident that in less than five years the commerce and prosperity of Chicago will be even greater than it had been previous to the fire. The Methodist Episcopal church lost over $295,000 worth of property, insured for about $80,000. Eight school-houses were destroyed, the loss on which aggregates $290,000. The churches burned on the North-side were the North Presbyterian, Westminister Presbyterian, Grace Methodist, Moody's Mission, St. Jame's Cathed]al of the Holy Name, St. Joseph's, witl the Orphan Asylum, and Convent of the Immaculate Conception, St. Ausgine's, New Eng,,land, Unity, Fullerton avenue Presbyterian, and one or two other smaller. On the Southern Division the following were consumed: First and Second Presbyterian, St. Paul, Trinity, Swedenborgian, St. Mary's, Wabash avenue Methodist, and First Methodist Churches. Thousands of valuables, that cannot be replaced, were. of course consumed. The original Emancipation Proclamatiofi of Lincoln, and a statue of that President, being the only one for which he ever sat, have been destroyed. The losses involved by the destruction of the Court-house are irreparable, and among them one of the most important is the destruction of all of Pinkerton's Criminal records, &c. Allan Pinkerton has long been famous as the "champion thiefcatcher" of the States, and his reputation was the result of years of patient, succesful toil, and energy. Hlis detective agency was as famous as the Boston Common, and besides the central office at Chicago, there were branches at New York and Philadelphia. This agency was first started in 1852 at Chicago, and two years later the famous records were commenced. The most minute details of every case were carefully recorded, the statement of the applicant seeking for assistance to recover his lost property, the names of the detectives employed, his orders, and reports of I?is 112 CHICAGO AS rr WAS AND AS IT IS. operations-in a word, every detail of the case, even to the testi mony given in court, and the sentence of the prisoner. More than $50,000 had been paid for clerical work alone upon this matter, which filled no less than four hundred huge volumes of great value. The greater portion of these were placed in six of Harris' safes, and some of them in wooden cases. They were all burnt. Pinkerton had been offered $30,000 by the Goverment for fifty nine large volumes containing complete records of the secret service of the Army of the Potomac. They were the only set in existence, and valued by their owner at $50,000. Negotiations for the transfer of these volumes were still going on when the fire broke out and reduced them all to tinder. The reports of the night police occupied forty great volumes, of enormous value. There were forty-eight patrolmen whose duty it was to report everything that had happened on their respective beats, as well as the state of the weather and other important particulars. They were frequently consulted in court proceedings for the purpose of obtaining information as regards the weather, the'condition of the streets, the presence or absence of the moon, and policemen. Only two of these huge volumes were saved. There were, likewise, 105 volumes of files of all the daily and weekly papers since 1854. Pinkerton had printed instructions pasted all around the walls, ordering the men to remove these valuable articles first of all in case of fire, but before they could be lowered into the wagon the flames compelled the men to flee for their lives. Thus the work of more than twenty years was destroyed in about half an hour. The Chicago Tribune declared, in an editorial after the fire, that there was no necessity for any able-bodied man to leave Chicago. This is certainly true. There was and is plenty of work for hundreds more at present. Quite a number of merchants intend building up their business edifices shortly, and many are already in course of erection. 113 0 T, i HE 3UtNING BY N. S. ERSON. Calm and still, in her strength and pride: The City lay, like a sleeping bride, The stars turned pale in the Eastern sky, And slipped out of sight, for the morn was nigh, When up through the twilight, cool and grey, Burned a ruddier light than the dawning day, And a cry rang out on the startled air, "The City is burning!" "Burning? Where?" "The City is burning! Burning! There!" And swift feet hurried forward and fro, And strong hands fought with the awful foe; Fought till the golden banners fell, And flames and embers were smothered well. All day long had the battle raged, All day long had the strife been waged, And the weary fireman slept at night, Calmly, thinking that all was right. Nine o'clock! Ten o'clock! Eleven! went by, And still no cloud stained the clear blue sky; But scarce had the clang of the midnight bells Been hushed in softly echoing swells, When loud their fierce alarm arose, And banished.every eye's repose. Again the city was on fire. The red flames sprang like serpents, higher From roof to tower, from tower to spire, Great golden surges throbbed and beat, And rolled and hissed from street to street; Stern granite walls, we had builded well, In one wild hour to ashes fell, And household treasures, cherished long, Were swallowed by that dragon strong. 10 ITY. THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. In anguish, which we may not speak, Which dries the tear drop on the cheek, And makes all words seem vain and weak; We watched that night of horror through, Watched till again the dawning grew To broader light of perfect day, And then beheld our city lay, Blackened and shrivelled, ruined, lost, In that stupendous Holocaust. We looked into each others eyes, Too dumbly stricken for surprise, And said we've but escaped the fire, "To starve upon our funeral pyre." But when we saw the young, the fair, Our helpless loved'ones gathered there, We raised one piteous wailing cry, "Help us, or we shall surely die " From Orient to Occident The echo of our anguish went, And Occident and Orient AIade answer as with one intent; They gave and gave, and still had more To give from Loves' exhaustless store. As flowers give perfume sweet and rare, Unbidden to the evening air, As clouds give raindrops bounteous, So did the world give help to us. From town and city, far and near, Came deeds of kindness, words of cheer, And hearts bowed down in sorrow, then, In sweet surprise grew strong again. For He who walked of old on earth, Is with us in this later birth: We lost Him in our greed for pelf, But to His higher, purer Self, He leads us through this golden tide, And thus our loss is glorified. I 118 Incidents, Accidents,Tragedies, and Wonderful Escapes. A RECORD OF FACTS STRANGER THAN ANY FICTION. The inquirer for incidents, unless insatiable, is quickly surfeited. Incidents abound: and they comprise a larger variety than was ever before known to spring from a single disaster. Those of a tragic character unfortunately predominate, in which, "sorrow, like an ocean, deep, dark, rough, and shoreless, roll'd its billows o'er the souls" of ten thousand hapless victims. Some are full of a sad grotesqueness that force an equipoise of tears and smiles, but the great volume of woe is appalling. It has already crushed many a brave heart, and destroyed many a noble intellect. It has written the untimely epitaph of the highest worldly hopes and loftiest ambitions of men of enterprise and worth, in the several departments of human endeavor, in the ashes of their achievements! SUFFERINGS OF WOMEN. There is so much material for this chapter of calamity, the question at once arises as to what shall be rejected, that it may be comprised within reasonable limits. At the best, it will require a very stout heart to read, without flinching, what are herein set down as verified facts. The great whirlwind of fire was no respector of persons, and did not accomodate its course to any of the desires or movements of our people. The sick, the dying and the dead, were all in its path, and consumed by its torrid breath. Many women, in the pains of childbirth, driven from shelter by the flames, were found away out on the prairies, or on the shores of the lake, the bleak winds chilling them and extinquishing the new life just ushered into the world. In scores of instances, both mother and child were dead, without attendance, and unrecognized. With no sympathising friends, no helping hand, no eye save God's, to witness their agony and despair, they passed to "a land of darkness as darkness itself, and of the shadow of death; without any order, and where the light is darkness." It is trebly hard, under such conditions, "To feel the hand of death arrest one's steps, Throw a chill blight o'er all one's budding hope And hurl one's soul untimely to the shades, Lost in the gaping gulf of black oblivion." THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. The daughter of an eminent clergyman gave birth to a child during the rush and panic of the wild flight of women and children along the lake shore, and in some inexplicable way was separated from her friends, and neither mother nor child have been found. A well-dressed and apparently intelligent lady, running away from the scorching flames, fell down in Adams street, near State. It was discovered by those near that she was in the pains of labor, and an effort made to convey her to a place of safety. She had been carried scarcely three squares when she expired in great agony. A lady was carried out of the Sherman House in the arms of her husband, a new born babe clasped to her breast, and both died in the arms of the husband and father before reaching a place of safety. He was last seen marching along the shore of the lake, with the dead woman and child in his arms, shouting, laughing, and blaspheming, in all the delirium of grief. He was unquestionably burned or drowned. The lake shore was a scene of many a blood-curdling tragedy. A fine-looking woman of commanding presence, and almost regal air, was observed wading in the shallow water, holding twin babes but a few hours old in her arms. At last she sank upon the shore from utter exhaustion, and both mother and children died unrecognized and unattended, and two days after were buried by the city. A well known matron, whose husband was absent from the city at the time of the fire, personally superintended the packing and securing of most of her valuables, (although in a condition of the utmost delicacy regarding physical health), and sent them to a place of safety. She then engaged an express wagon, at an enormous charge, to convey her to the residence of a friend in the West Division; but, in consequence of her unusual exertions during the night, the excitement, anxiety, and fatigue, she was attacked with labor pains shortly after leaving her residence, and found herself compelled to lie down in the wagon. Just after crossing Randolph street bridge she gave birth to a living child, but before reacliing her destination its little life had been extinguished by the chilling blast. The mother, strong and healthy before, is now an invalid. 120 v CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. Among women of the baser sort, who had their dens and haunts in Wells, Clark, and other streets in the burned district, there were tragedies innumerable, and probably more horrible deaths than among people occupying ten times the amount of space in other parts of the city. As the flames attacked their squalid tenements, they were seen issuing forth scantily clad, some almost nude, many in a maudlin stage of intoxication, others rubbing their eyes in drowsy' stupidity-dismayed, weeping, laughing, cursing and singing. One, somewhat intoxicated, carried a young child, which she abandoned before walking a single square; and it would have been consumed had not a patrolman rescued it. Another carried a bottle, from which she quaffed frequent and copious draughts, and, despite the urging of her companions, finally lagged behind, and was left to her fate. A young girl in tawdry attire, after emerging from a low Wells street hovel that had just ignited, swore she would sooner lose her life than her gay new hat, and went back in quest of it. She did not return. A painted Jezebel rushed into the glowing street from a burning house, just as the roof commenced falling, with a large feather-bed in her arms. She was clad in nothing but a light wrapper, which the gale swept away from her limbs, and, ere she had proceeded many steps the flames seized upon it. The bed was also in some way ignited, and in an instant the woman was enveloped in a raging bonfire. People hastened to her rescue, but she had inhaled the intense caloric into a stomach already heated with alcohol, and fell dead before one could reach her. A poor depraved creature sat in an attic window of a large building in Clark street, chattering, singing, and laughing, while the flames were raging through every part of the structure, even in the room she occupied. She shouted obscene epithets, and snatches of erotic songs to the people below, hurrahed for the fire and cursed everything else; and, finally, as the huge walls commenced swaying forward and back, she laughed hideously, ending in a shriek like the yell of a hyena, as the immense pile of brick and mortar came thundering to the ground, burying her beneath its tremendous weight. A great number of this class of women were overtaken in the slumber of intoxication, smothered and roasted without consciousness of the calamity; while others, tiredcl of life, made no exertion to save themselves, and perished in various ways. 121 122 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. Who can realize the excruciating anguish of such a moment? Physicians testify that not less than eight hundred cases of premature birth have already been made known, and most of them involve instances of suffering that no strength of language can adequately describe. The poor women, away from their natural protectors, with no friends at hand, and without even the commonest attention from strangers, so absorbed was every one in the immediate danger to life and property, were left, in all their helplessness, to encounter the most critical period in their lives-rendered a thousand fold more momentous by the appalling character af their surroundings. A HEART-RENDING ESTAKE. A family was just rushing from their smoking residence, that the fire had only that moment attacked, when the wife said to her husband. "You have the baby, Charles?" "No; I thought you took him." "Mary has him, then?" "Oh, no mem; I brought the silver." The babe is still in the house, and the father rushes back to save him. The half-distracted mother, supported by the faithful servant, awaits his return in an agony of fear. The roof is on fire, and the flames are just bursting from the upper windows, when he appears with the precious bundle. "I wrapped him closely, so he would not inhale the smoke." "Is he asleep?" "Yes; very soundly." "Let's hurry along to a safer place and unwrap his face or he will smother." When a little remote from the raging flames and blinding smoke, they undid the carefully guarded parcel, and found within-nothing but a large pillow! The child had been left to the flames. The mother understood her great bereavement on the instant, then her mind darkened, and she is hopelessly a maniac. AN UNEXAMPWID BEREAVEMENT. A prominent business man returned from a trip to New York on the second day after the fire He had been enabled to obtain no particulars regarding his own personal disaster, and the oc CICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. cular demonstration of the ruin of his home and warehouses preceeded all verbal intimation of the facts. Of his elegant residence nothing was left but the smoking stones of the foundation, and a few warper iron pillars marked the spot where he had left a commodious and well-filled business house. He inquired for his family. Nobody could furnish the desired information. His brother had lived in another part of the city, and he concluded they must be there. He went to see, but found only the ruins of the household shrines. A cousin living two miles in another direction must have furnished them refuge, but, on searching that locality, he discovered the fire fiend had not spared him even this hope, and his investigation from that time forth was directed to a general search, and advertisements in the newspapers, but, up to the moment of this writing, without result. No tidings whatever from his wife and children, none from his brother, none firom the cousin; and the poor man is now driven to the belief that all were utterly destroyed I GEORGE HOWARD. A bright little fellow, only eleven years of age, was the hero of the following incident: His parents moved from New York to Chicago abouts two months before the fire. Here the father started in the merchant tailoring business, and was getting along comfortably. They lived on Randolph street, and when they retired to bed on the second night of the confiagration, there was no fear entertained by the people of that locality that the flames would reach them. The little fellow, who gives his name as George Howard, says he was aroused from his sleep by the heat, and when he opened his eyes found their building on fire, and the windows already in flames. He jumped up, awakened his father, and mother, and told them of the danger. The heat at this time was intense, and George managed to save himself by jumping through one of the burning windows, whir was in the second story, down to the pavement below. There he waited, expecting his father and mother would also escape by jumping from thewindows; but he waited in vain. In less time almost than it takes to relate it, the building was a crumbling mass, and roof, walls, partitions, and furniture, all went blazing together into the cellars. He states that next morning he made search, and found the bones of his~ather and mother beneath the ruins. 123 THROUGH THE AME AND BEYOND. A STRANGE ERROR. The great uncertainty regarding the fate of friends, for several days succeeding the fire, and the absence of any thoroughly organized effort to trace those who were missing, occasioned untold anxiety, and in several instances resulted in the most terrible misapprehensions. A young gentlemen telegraphed to relatives in Syracuse as follows: "I am safe, but father cannot be found. He was probably asleep, and burned to death. " FRED." In less than two hours after the receipt of the above, the parties in Syracuse were astounded by this dispatch from the father: "Everything burned, and FRED is missing. Havn't seen him since the general alarm, and fear the worst. " R. J. F." Father and son were at once informed by return messages, of the safety of each other, and were soon reunited. A HAPPY OCCASION. There never was a happier re-union of people who had been given up as lost by their friends, than that which occured at one of the relief "headquarters" on Thursday succeeding the calamity. A well known gentleman was relating to sympthising friends that, in his desire to save his cash box, which contained bonds and money for a large sum, he had been neglectful, for the moment, of the safety of his wife and children, that he lost sight of them in the great rdsh of flying, panic-stricken citizens, and that they were either burned or trampled to death. Pausing a moment in the narration, he overheard the sound of a familiar voice in an adjoining room, and springing to his feet, he rushed through the door: "My dear wife!" " 0, my husband!" were the ejaculations that reached the ears of those within hearing. The wife was there accompanied by the children, and was relating to some acquaintances the circumstances attending the loss of her husband and all their property. She was about to apply for the relief of absolute necessities in the way of food and raiment, when she was interrupted by the entrance of her companion alive and well. They were at once clasped in each other's arms, and stood there silent, overcome, in an eloquence of joy that could find no expression in words. The children-there 124 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. were three-laughed, cried and shouted, and at last the oldest, a fine boy of twelve, gave vent to his feelings in words that have since become historic: "Bully for father! the fire could'nt burn him I" An expression, at once so vigorous and original, broke the spell, and everybody returned to the realities of the occasion. The family were all there; they had saved enough to insure comfort; and the benevolent German who gave refuge to the wife and children in his poor cottage during the hour of peril, and divided with them his frugal loaf, now rejoices in the addition of a $1,000 government bond to his worldly possessions. A BURPRISE. A Chicago matron, on a visit to some friends in Massachusetts, addressed several telegraphic messages to her husband during the three or four days succeeding the fire, and received no reply. She telegraphed to acquaintances with the same result. Concluding her family had met with disaster, perhaps death, she resolved to return and ascertain the facts. The husband had attempted to send a message to his wife, but could not get it through. There were no mails even, and he therefore took a train, for the purpose of assuring her of the safety of himself and family by his personal presence, on Wednesday of the terrible week of darkness. The wife started a day later. Reacning Albany she was partaking of a lunch in the railroad restaurant when some one tapped her on the shoulder and inquired, "What are you doing here?" She turned and beheld her husband; and her gloomy forebodings gave place to rejoicing. They returned to Chicago with all speed, to assist, relieve and encourage their less fortunate neighbors. It was the afternoon of that dreadful Monday, that Chicago people can never think of without a shudder. The ladies of our block had sat out on their stone steps since two o'clock of the previous morning, with black faces, uncombed hair, and red, bleared eyes, gazing with hearts of lead at the roaring, rushing fire-fiend that was devouring the homes of our friends on the North Side. There was no water, the Mayor had ordered us to have no fires. One energetic Yankee lady proposed sending six miles to an artesian well to get water to go on with her house cleaning, for, she said," she would have to pay the woman she had hired any way." 125 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. FUEL TO THE FLAME. Thousands of children were running in every direction, screaming, crying, and beseeching the people they met to find their parents or friends; many were in their night dresses, with bare feet, scratched, burned and bleeding, heads uncovered, and long hair streaming in the wind. A gentleman reports that he saw one little girl whose great wealth of loose golden hair had caught fire, and she was running and screaming in sore affright. As she passed the place where he stood, some thoughtless person threw a glass of whisky upon her, with the evident intenion of quenching the flame. It of course had the contrary effect, and flared up at once, covering her from head to foot with a blue blaze. She was burned to death almost on the instant HORRIORS. Several people were severely injured, and some killed outright, during their flight through the streets, by the bricks, stones, cornices, etc., from the falling buildings. One man, carrying a child in his arms, and leading another by the hand, was struck on the head by a stone, which crushed his skull, and scattered his brains over the little ones. The horrified mother uttered a heart-rending shriek, gave one look of unutterable anguish at her dead companion, then seized the children and hurried away. A newspaper reporter writes that he saw a woman kneeling in the street, with a crucifix held up before her, and the skirt of her dress burning while she prayed. She appeared to be utterly absorbed in her devotions, and regardless of danger. While the reporter was looking at her, a run-away team attached to a truck dashed her to the ground, and she was left torn and mangled. A great many occupants of tenement-houses were burned to death. They are a class of people that are helpless in a panic, and proved to be no exception on that terrible Sunday night. One woman in a tenement-house on Wells street was awakened by the heat and smoke, and ran to a window for air, but either fainted or was smothered, and fell across the window-sill, where she lay, and was burned with the building. On the battlements of one of the high blocks in Randolph street a man was seen standing and wildly gesticulating, with the terrible flames raging and roaring through all the apart 126 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. ments beneath, and escape entirely cut off. All who saw him knew that he was doomed to a terrible death, for rescue was out of the question. Still he gesticulated, pointed in various directions, and was evidently trying to make the people understand some plan of relief that he thought feasible, but his voice was drowned in the tremendous roar of wind and flame, and no one moved to attempt what everybody knew would prove utterly resultless for good. At length the great walls became unsteady, swerved for a moment in mid air, and then came down with a crash and weight that shook the very ground, and the life of him who a moment before had stood there imploring help was crushed out in the glowing furnace of destruction. A similar incident is reported of two men on the top of Armour's block, who found themselves completely environed by the flames. They tested the full strength of their lungs in useless shouts, threw up their hands, pointed hither and thither, ran to and fro, and finally seemed intent on plunging headlong to the pavement. It was impossible to reach them, but at length they stood on the parapet at the back part of the building, whence the roof of an adjoining structure, some thirty feet below, seemed to offer means of escape. The flames were eagerly pressing upon them, giving but little time for consideration, and so, hand in hand, they jumped. It was a fearful leap and badly calculated. They came down with a terrible crash, were badly bruised, and lay senseless and bleeding until rescued by their friends. A gentlemen, rushing past a drug store at the top of his speed, was suddenly overwhelmed by the explosion of some combustible stuff, and deluged with liquid flame. Death was instantaneous. BEREAVEENT IN HUMB LI FE. A number of Irish families took refuge beneath the sheds of a brick-yard. They had saved nothing, not even a quilt. Not a cent of money to buy even a roll, even had there been a roll to buy. One poor woman, who, with her young daughter, was sitting disconsolate, their backs against a pile of bricks, alone seemed disposed to communicate her bereavements. The girl's hands were burnt and blackened, and the mother had wrapped them in some dirty rags she picked up in the street, and there the poor creatures sat in drear desolation, although surrounded by fifty 127 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. persons similarly situated. The mother's eyes were red and swollen from heat and smoke, yet, in the face of all their woe, she answered cheerfully when addressed. Their great calamity was the loss of the husband and father. "Patrick and meself," said she;" beat off the flames as long as we could, and poor Mary here, she worked as hard as any of us; but it was of no use. So true as I tell you, the flames came upon us quicker than a railroad train, and meself and Mary started out Division street, and Patrick, poor man, went into the house to get a few dollars he had saved from werking on the docks, and, and-I never saw him any more. Oh, dear, oh, oh!" And as the ffll measure of their griefs burst with full force upon their hearts, they fell to sobbing and bemoaning their loss. A MRAULOUS ESCAPE. "Clear the way there, below I" shouted a gentlemen from a fourth story window of a large building in State street. The crowd opened right and left, and stood with bated breath awaiting the catastrophe. "He dare not jump," said one. "If he does he's a dead man," remarked another. "I am coming!" shouted the individual aloft. And then, swift as an arrow, people saw a dark object shoot downwards through the sparks and smoke and flashes of light, down to the earth. The dull thud of the concussion was immediately followed by the exclamation: "All right!" And it was discovered that he had alighted in a large pile of bedding, escaping without a bruise, and scarcely a momentary inconvenience. THE LA SCENE. The coroner's office and morgue were the saddest and most forbidding places in the city, two days after the fire. The roasted bodies of men, women, and children, unrecognized and unknown, were piled one upon the other, awaiting the visits of those who should claim them and perform the rites of Christian sepulchre. There were many visits of those whose relatives were missing, and occasionally an expression of the belief that one of the blackened bodies might be that of a husband, father, wife, brother, sister, or dear friend, but the clues were very faint, generally im 128 ,sA~o(1i.at aii noi Ka~ oxDi ~ozhi cKV sca &I lIa~ui -DII.l 0a K:iiiia;I \ ~<~j;j~ —;~ / ~~~ ~ q ~ ~j I I I ~'~iI~ ~~~~~~~~ I *~II>I ~ 1111~ ~~;j \\ < __ I'> \>~~ 1\"> ~ IIII;il\\\\!I i 1: < i~ii~ i~~ -~;~~~~~~ . —, i A CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. probable, and in nearly every case abandoned on closer investigation. M[ore than twvo hundred of these bodies were unrecognized, and finely buried by the city; and it is estimated that bones and other evidences of human remains, representing at least four hundred and fifty persons, in addition to the two hundred, were found among the ruins. It is probably safe to estimate that not less than twelve hundred people lost their lives in the Chica(go calamity, in one way or another, and it is known that the list of the missing over-runs this aggregate. Where, in the whole history of human disaster, can we find a more agonizing record? THE MORGUE. At the far end of the room was a partitioned space lighted by dirty cobwebbed windows, and on the floor, arranged in rows, first all around three sides and then down the middle, were the charred remains of seventy human beings. The first noticeable object in this dreadful company was the form of a Sister of some Roman Catholic Order, completely shrouded in her brown habit with the cross and I. H. S. in white letters stitched on the bosom. The face was thickly veiled and even the feet carefully covered up. "She was smothered, but not burned," observed the grim master of ceremonies. The next was the body of a young man partially clad in common workingmlen's attire. The hair was completely burned off his head and body; the features were blackened and distorted with pain; the swollen lips were wide apart, disclosing the glistening teeth, and imparting a horrid grin, such only as agonizing death can stamp upon the face. The flesh was bloated to an astonishing size. The poor wretch was roasted alive. What is the use now of giving utterance to the passing thought as these two corpses-the only two whose faces could be recognized-met the gaze? Let it pass. There was one charred form in the attitude of prayer-the fornm of a woman, but every feature of the face, every graceful line of the body was gone. The head was nothing but a black lump; the body a blackened, hideous shape. Some bodies of men could be distinguished by the remnants of clothing and boots, but nearly all traces of humanity were gone. Then there were remains of children and young people; hut they, 131 THREOUGH THE FLAM.IES AND BEYOND. with the majority, were nothing more than mere blackened, chlarred torsos. Those whose limbs or arms remained, exhibitedl a supplicatory attitude, as if begging mercy of the destroyer. To this ghastly, hideous, and melancholy spectacle, were admited in little parties of four orfive at a time, those who had friends or relatives missing, but no language can describe the scenes of heart-rendering agony which these grim visits elicited. A family of little children, led by an elder sister, comes, and after the first sickening shock tries to distinguish her mother. A frantic wife, attended by a friend, comes in search of her unreturning husband. Erothers seek sisters lost, and sisters their brothers gone; but who can tell in that undclistinguishable charnel, what home the living being made happy. All personal identification was gone with the obliterating fire, and nothing was left but ashes. But perhaps the bitter disappointment at not finding, or rather recognizing the lost one was worse than if there and then had ended the fearful search. Heart-bursting sobs, hysterical exclamations, and unutterable wailings, rent the air as the disappointed sad ones turned away from the sickening scene. But besides the bodies burned to a crisp, the impoverished morgue had other horrors to reveal. On the near side of the partitioned space lay half a dozen tenanted coffins-pauper's coffins-of unpainted pine, with the bodies laid in without any preparatory equipment for the grave, not even the common composure of the arms and limbs, the closing of the eyes, and the washing of the features. In one the visitor was shown the corpse of the man shot through the head and hung to the lamp post-a dreadful warning to incendiaries. In another lay the body of a man withi a bayonet stab through the body-by whom stabbed no one knew. In another was squeezed the body of a Germnan tailor, well known in the neighborhlood, who had lost his all by the fire, and acting upon the cowardly principle sentimentally inculcated by Goethe in "The Sorrowvs of Werther," committed suicide rather than bravely live out his allotted time. He had first opened a vein in his arm and then cut his throat from ear to ear with a razor. His hands, face and clothes wvere smeared with gore, and a more ghastly and sickening spectacle than that coffin presented could hardly be found. There, shut it up forever and shut out the sight from our eyes-if we can, and leave the horrid place, never, never, to return. 132 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AN)D AS IT IS. A RETROSPECT. AUR.T IHIALSTEAD, ESQ., the well-known and accomnplislhedl editor of the CiezciHiiati Cot)meircicl, visited our city in the last days of October, and wrote his impressions of "Chicago three weeks after the fire." As the testimony of a close observer of men, things and ruins, and of one who is wholly disinterested, his letter is of more than ordinary value, and is inserted here that we may avail ourselves of the most convenient opportunity of being seen as others see us: All speak of the appalling roar of the conflagration, fanned by a hurricane, and the tremendous power of the mass of flame before vwhich the tall business houses withered and collapsed. The heat was so dreadful, and the force of the wind so great, that the serpents of fire pierced walls like lightning. The sky was luid. The heavens seemed to be filled with fiery billows, and an awful volume of densely black smoke rolled away with fri,liLt ful rapidity and the majesty of a gigantic thunder cloud. "You have seen a violent hail storm," said one, "imagine the hail to be all fire and you have the showver of sparks." The tempest beat upon the roofs far in advance of the torrent of flame. The air was filled with blazing shingles, and boards several feet in length were whirled aloft and flung in advance, while fragmienits of composition roofs made infernal fire brands, and hissed with fierce combustion as they flew. Before such a storm as this any city in the world would have perished, and if Chicago had exten ded forty miles in the direction of the wind it would have been swept throughlout. Every one has some strange experience to relate. The wife of one of the first citizens of Chieago-a man of great wealth, and whose home was famedl for a genial hospitality —was sepa rated from her husband, and, with two small children, driven into the edge of the lake, and crouched shivering in the shallow water for hours, when she ventured upon the land again, and walked six miles to the house of a friend. The daughter and only child of a prominent gentleman, who had one of the hand* soiest residences in Chicago, and was well able to enjoy it, was obligedcl to take her place, with a basket on her arm, in a line of sufferers seeking food, and there was recognized by a ruffian and thrust out of the line with an oath and exclamation of joy that she was" on the same level with the rest of us now." A resolute business man, believing, for an hour or two before his store was svswept away, that the fire was uncontrollable, succeeded in remov ing a quantity of valuable goods to the lake shore. When the fiery hail descended there, he found a tub, which he placedcl on lis head, and remained brushing the embers from a lot of goods, 133 THROUGHI THE LAMIES AND BEYOND. anld wetting them; and, when the danger wvas over, hlie hoad the satisfaction of ascertaining that he had protected, with desperate energy, and at the risk of his life, the property of another. His pile unguarded was consumed. While the black smloke was still ascending, and the streets were yet hot, and the wind swept through the ruins, with the breath and dust of a Sahara sirocco, a business man made his way to the ruins of the Court-house, and there he declared he saw flying across the square a white owl. He is not an imaginative or superstitious person, but most literal and exact in his statements, but he confesses to have been slighitly disturbed to see an owl just then. It had an uncanny look, even to a prosaic person. The great bell of the city was in the Court-house, and the noise that it made in falling was heard thlirough all the uproar by almost everybody. As the fire becalie irresistible the great bell was sounded incessantly to w-arn all hearers of the peril that beset them. The clamor ceased as the fire took possession of the Court-house, and then the long reverberation of the bell as it tumbled crashinig down the tower, and the great, dull, far resounding throb that it gave when it struck the earth, seemed to the maddened fugitives, driven before the flames, something superhuman-a voice calling that all was lost. There is an exaggerated impression abroad about the annihilation of the buildings in the burnt district. It is not true, as some graphic writers have related, that the bricks were burnt to ashles and blown into the lake. There are millions upon mnillions of brick thaLt will do very well to go into the walls again. It is stated that where they were exposed to the greatest heat they shrank and lost weight, and that sometimes the corners crumble fronm them easily. I do not know how that is, as I did not see any of them weighed or crumble. Then there are ruins that are inexpressibly picturesque. Some of the stone-fronts standing blasted and scathed by the flames, have the appearance of extreme antiquity. Bayard Taylor said of one of these scarred fronts, "It looks like the marble of Grecian temples two thousand years old." The stone roasted to lime, and beaten by the rain, had in three weeks acquired an imposing venerableness, and in this, the newest of the great cities, there seemed to appear the august imprint of the ages. The churches, which, with the breweries, are conspicuous by the towering fragments that attest their former safety proportions, present the most startling effects. Many of the Chicago churches were very beautiful, and in ruins several of them are so remarkable that it is a pity not to preserve them, as they are the most impressive memorials of a memorable event. The roofs are utterly gone, the walls broken, the steeples shattered, upholding tottering pinacles; the great arches through which the congregations walked, shivered in part and fallen iv massive fragmients upon the stately steps, yet span 134 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. ning grandly the space between double towers. There is one that is a striking suggestion of Melrhose Abbey-seen through the dust, or the mist, or in the moonlight-it has a weird look, and it seems that only the associations of centuries would be appropriate. One misses though, the clinging ivy and the groups of tombs of the Knights and KIings of the chivalhic ages. Some tall arches cling together, strangely upheld to a great height in the center of the business quarter, and suggest a section of the Colosseum. The completest destruction is where there was the most use made of iron in building. Field & ILeiter's immense dlry goods house, supported all around on iron columns, is utterly gone into the cellar, where there is a large display of the massive iron-work, in which there was so much confidence before the hour of trial proved its frailty. The business men burned out hive signs on the sights of their old establishments, telling where they are to be seen. There are thousandls of these, and they would be more useful if it were not almost impossible for persons not intimately acquainted with the city as it was, to find the old places. There is an astounding bewildclerment. A friend told me he had more than once passed the ruins of his own residence without knowing it. On the West Side, and the South, private residences are appropriated for business purposes, and it is a reminder of peculiar times to see bank and real estate and insurance office signs, painted in black on a rough board, and nailed at a parlor window. I noticed the name of C. H. McCormick, the millionaire manufacturer of reapers, on a board, sticking from the second story windlow of a modest house; and a stake, driven into a pile of bricks near the courthouse, supports a sign that tells where he can be found. On Lake Park there are some hundreds of frames already up, and carpenters are within hammering away at rough counters and shelving, and the merchant princes of other days have their firm names already well displayed, by the aid of marking brushes, over their doors. It would look curious to see the names of our most flourishing Fourth and Pearl street merchants, on shanties of fresh boards on the landing, and in Washington and Lincoln Parks, but such instances of observation are common-pl)lace in Chicago. The Chicago men of affairs are full of courage. They meet each other with uplifted faces and talk resolutely of "beginning again;" of their ability to "do it over again and more too;" of their determination to have "fire-proof houses next time" beyond doubt. They are against stone veneering and iron pillars and braces, and have confidence in honest brick work. They wvill not build so loftily, and will make room for heavy walls. The Chlicago of the future will be a city of bricks, and more sober in character, as well as substantial in construction, than the city of the past. 130, I' THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. The faces among Chicago lmen that were known to me were strongly marked wvith the excitements and fatigues thllrouLgh which thiey lhave passed. Amid the ruins, looking at the laborers reimoing tile debris, were sad faces, and somne of thiose who wear )brave countenances before the public, and even jest at their own Misfortunes, are badly hurt indeed; and resolute as they may be, wi-ll never "do it again," thoughl they take up the hard, long task, ev-er so hopefully. The catastrophe represented in the vast sweep of ruins grows as it is understood, and many a brave life ~sill go out in the work of restoration. AWhile tlhree-fourthls of the business houses of the city were destroyed, but one-fourthl of the city, estimated by the nLumber of inhabitants on the ground, was bturned. In the streets of the WAest Side, especially, there is a concentration of business that makes an immense stir. Throngs of hurried, anxious men are on the sidewalks, and omnibuses, drays and wagons crowd the streets. The bridges are inadequate.'Whenever one of thlem is swung aside to admit thie passage of a vessel, there is a procession formed on each side, of those in hot haste, and the confusion is dire. The tunnels riing with rapid hoofs incessantly. The manifestations of the excellenlft and unbroken -vitality of the city-, and of the unquenchable faithl of her people in a future that shall be filled with a splendor surpassing the past, are plain on all sides. TAKEN BY SURPRISE. A boarder at the MIallory House, onl the west side, who hadcl w-atchedl through the night of Saturday with a sick friend, and therefore slept soundly, was rudely awakened at about 4 o'clock 3Ionday morning by a heavy rumbling sound, and shaking of the house, that induced apprehensions in his mind of an earthquake. Opening his eyes, he found his room alight with a red glare that startled him from the bed, and he rushed to a window. He was spell-bound by the hideous night-mare of destruction, andcl gazed upon it as upon the head of MIedusa. Another crashing detonation recalled him to the realities of the occasion, and, hastily dressing, hlie descended to the office, then filled with anxious, unhoused citizens, made his way to the desk and interrogated the clerk. The reply that Chicago was "two-thirds burnt and no hope for the balance," smote him like a blow from a rapier, for theout look at that moment appeared to confirm the report, and to reproach him with the gross lapse of duty of having slept through all those long, terrible hours, that threathenel the existence of the great city. But noiw-the resolve was strong 136 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. and instantaneous-lihe would do everything in his power to atone for thie dereliction. He describes his feelings at the momont as "reckless," involving a total disregard of personal safety, and a full determination to assist in saving life and property, wherever opportunity might present, without regard to consequences to himself. He made his way across Randolph street bricldge, to the South Side, just as the flames had reached their sublimest altitude in Wabash and Michigan Avenues, and supposing his services might be made available in that locality, he was soon on the ground. The scene was of the wvildclest confusion. From stately mansions people were flyiing with the extremest alarm-from some, goods and furniture were issuing in great parcels, as they were thrown from doors and windows, pell-mell into the streets, where nmany caught fire alnost as soon as landed, and were consumed,-from some, the valuables were loaded into vehicles and driven rapidly away. Our frieind ran into a house, apparently deserted and already blazing on one side, in the hope that he might still save a portion of its contents. The smoke within was thick and strangling, but hlie pushed forward. Entering a sitting room, he was greeted with the sullen growl of a dog, and was about to retreat, when he descried a woman sitting near the grate, from which a slight blaze flickered, fast asleep in her chair. He shouted at the top of his voice, "Wake up! wake up! Your house is burning, and you must get out quick to save your life." "Has the fire really turned this way? Where is my husband? Where are the servants?" "Is your husband in the house?" "He went to the fire about midnight" — "And hasn't returned, of course. I will assist you and then look for the servants; but there is not a moment to spare." To his great surprise she took a young baby from a cradle standing near, and began leisurely to dress it. "This won't do at all," said he. "Take the child's clothing on your arm, and dress it when you reach a place of safety. You must go now." The falling timbers and a great puff of black smoke through the carpet beneath their feet, gave emphasis to his words, and the, woman seized the child and some articles of apparel and hastened to the street. 137 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. He then, accompanied by the dog, who appeared to comprehend the exigencies of the occasion, ran to the upper stories of the house and examined all the rooms, but found no one. Seeing several articles of value, lie concluded to save those which lhe thought the family would prize most, and gathering as many as he could carry, descended the stairs with the flames playing around him from the burning hall. Just as he reached the pavement once more, a well-dressed gentleman (?) ran up and accosted him: aWhat are you doing, sir?" "Trying to save something from this burning house." "Trying to steal somethling, would be nearer the truth. That is my house, sir. Hand me the articles." "Comne with me to your wife, and she will acquit me of any unworthy design. Had I not entered your house, the chances are that she would not be alive at this moment." "Humn! Well, let me place these things where they will be safe, and then we'll see what madam has to say." He took them and disappeared around a corner. Our friend waited, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, and then went to seek the lady. He walked nearly three squares, and found her seated upon a trunk in the street, with a gentleman attending her. "Your servants had all left the house. I examined every room, and did not find a living soul; but there were some articles of value which I brought away, and, meeting your husband at the door, delivered them into his hands." "AIy husband? Why, this is my husband! He has just found me." And the other was a confidence man, plying his wonderful vocation. The trick was evident enough, but the real husband was too thankful for the safety of wife and child to regret the loss of anything else, and he expressed gratitude in no measured terms. There was no time for ceremony, certainly, with those who wished to save life or substance, and our friend was encouraged by the success of the first exploit to continue his exertions. It was quite daylight, but the heavy smoke hanging over city and lake filled all the atmosphere with a gloomy haze that proved extremuely dispiriting, especially in combination with the desolation everywhere apparent; but he aroused his energies and returned to the burning houses. A building from which the fire 138 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. issued in great wreaths was attracting the attention of quite a crowd of men, who were gazing upon it as if in momentary expectation of something to which they attached unusual interest. He made inquiries, and learned that a man was seen rushing in at the door but a few moments previous, and they were looking for his return. "Perhaps he has smothered." "He's a dead man if he stays two minutes longer." "Probably dead already." "Who'll go witli me and find him?" asked our hero. "I wvill," replied a little fellow, a mere boy, and, as subsequently ascertained, a boot-black. "Well, take one of these," (suiting the action to the word by seizing two heavy blankets from a pile of "plunder" near by, in one of whichl hlie enveloped himself, and told the little fellow to do the same), " and now come on." The crowd expostulated, but they did not wait for words. Inside tile building they found it much worse than anticipated, the first floor burned through in several places, and the smoke thick and blincding, rendering their progress extremiely dangerous. "We must move quickly if we would do any good and escape with life. Follow me and jump;" and our hero, exerting all his strength, made a tremendous leap through the fire, but the distance was miscalculated, for he alighted upon a section of the charred floor, which gave way like so much paper, and he was precipitated to the cellar beneath, and into a large cistern filled witl wvat.r. Disengaging himself from the blanket, he managed to get out and drag it after him, but only to find that he was environed byl fire on every side, as well as overhead! Fire everywhere! His companion either did not follow or had met with better luck in going "through the flames and beyond," for he was alone, and oppressed by the most terrible loneliness he ever experiencecl. The roar of the flames was terrific, and soon the walls of the building must fall and bury him in the great tomb of the conlflagration. He could see no help for it. He was kept busy in efforts to avoid the falling embers, and retreated before the advancing flames to another cellar, and still to another, when he came to a door that was securely barred on the opposite side. It resisted all his efforts to open it, and he 139 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. found himself completely hemmnned in by the fire behind, which was following him certainly to his death. There is a great rum bling, a crash, and the ground shakes with the concussion of the falling walls. Within ten feet of where hlie stands, there is a fear fuil pile of smoking brick, from which the heat is so intense as to scorchl his damnip clothing, and the atmosphere is impregnated witlh a gas that chokes his lungs and checks respiration. An other rumbling and a terrific crash right over his head. He looks up for his doom, and finds a strongly vaulted arch overhead, which resists the concussion-but to what purpose for himni? Bet ter be crushed at once than suffer the lingering death of slow combustion. The third crash, and the most fearful, follows quickly-the barred door flies from its hinges-and beyond he sees a basement kitchen almost untouched by the flames, and quite open to his egress, for the rear wall has fallen outward. The flames are playing wildly through the back yard, consuming fences and outbuildings, and the prospect is still poor for his escape. He espies two coal scuttles in the room, one nearly filled withl ashes. Scarcely knowing what he did, he emptied a portion of the ashes into the other scuttle, and placing an arm through the handles, made his way to the yard. Here the ground was thickly strewn with the glowing bricks and flaming embers, over which hlie must pass, or perish. Wrappiug the still wet blanket closely about him, he placed a foot in each of the scuttles aniong thie ashes, seizing the handles, and thus uniquely shod, commenced his tiresome journey through the ruins. This journey, as related to us, involves a longer story, in all its details, than we can find space for, although of absorbing interest. He did not readily find his way out of the place of danger, for obstacles intervened on every side in the shape of burning debris. Where he found openings that seemed to promise relief they led to greater dangers beyond, and finally the awkward mode of locomotion, the stooping and constrained position, the terrible heat and previous fatigue and excitement, overcame him so much that hlie gave up in despair, and determined to await the issue witiout further effort to save himself. Bringing the scuttles close together in an open space, he mnanagedl to recline upon them in a half sitting posture, and was obtaining a little rest in this way when by some means the blanket around him caught fire, and was so for under way when discovered that he 140 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IT. was obliged to cast it from him. Then the heat affected him terribly, and lie made another effort for release. Walls were falling ill every direction, and now, scarcely a hundred feet from his position, hlie saw one coming to the ground about which there was little indication of heat. Thither he made his way, and, after reconnoitering the situation, concluded to risk a run to the street without the aid of the scuttles. But he repented it bitterly before the street was gained. The bricks were still very hot, and' not only burnt his boots to a crisp, but burnt his stockings completely off, and then took the skin as clean from the flesh as it could be done by the most scientific flaying! As he reacheld the street he fell fainting upon the pavement, but was promptly removed to a hospital, where for several weeks he was tenderly nursed by kind friends, with the plucky little boot-black as a constant attendant. As we conclude the notes of this incident, he stands at our side, leaning upon his crutches, a cripple for life. ADVENTURE OF A YOUNG ENGLISHMIAN AND HIS ROOM-MATE-A TIMIELY RESCUE. [We have made some slight verb)al changes in the following narrative, but none to affect the facts therein detailed]. I went to my room early on Sunday evening, for I was very tired and sleepy, having helped the firemen on Saturday night. John Wilson, a Scotchman, had also been at the scene of the previous night's conflagration, and, being room-mates, we retired about the same time to our room on Nortli-Wells street. About nine o'clock I was aroused by the fire-bells. John leaped out of bed to look at his card, and said that the alarm was from DeKoven and Clinton streets. We both agreed it was too far to go, particularly as we were quite "played out " with fatigue, and we droped asleep very soon; John, indeed, was snoring five minutes later, and there was this peculiarity about John, that when he was once sound asleep, you might fire off a cannon close to his ear without awaking him. Sometimes when we sleep external sounds affect us but little if we are very tired, and seem to melt into and become a part of our dreams, so that we cannot tell whether noises within or without the bed-chamber are real, or whether they are only dream sounds. I had not been asleep very long when I began to dream 141 THROUGH THE FLAM3ES AND BEYOND. about the last night's fire, and I can remember every particular of my dream as distinctly as the terrible reality that followed it. It seemed to me that the fire-bells kept ringing, ringing, un ceasingly; but although I fancied the fire was in the same place, the bells did not strike 248, which was the box from which the alarm was sounded on Saturday night. Then I began to reason in a strange drowsy way, as to what the cause might be, and soon "a change came over the spirit of my dream," and I began to think about the old country, and old times, and the vision of fire melted into one of green fields and sunny villag,es in far off England. But the bells in my dream were no fancy. The second alarm had rung, and it was not from box 248, yet the fire had swept at least a fifth part of the city before I woke to hear a tremendous clamor and rush as of a great mob in the streets, and to see the flames leaping and roaring a full hundred feet over the fine buildings across the street. I called John, but hlie did not stir. I had to dash water in his face before I could arouse him. When he did awake he rushed to the window, looked out upon the awful fire beforehim, and pulled his clothes on with such haste that he was ready for flight and had thrown our most valuable clothes into a valise, before I was half dressed. We were in much greater danger than either of us had imagined. The instant we opened the door, the room was filled with a thick choking smoke and we knew that the back part of the house was on fire. There was but little escape in that direction, at least without being seriously burned, and John shut the door again, remarking that as we were only two stories from the ground we could more easily escape by the window. We seized the bed-clothes, and tore them up into strips, but while we were so occupied the heat became suffocating; the plaster cracked and dropped from the ceiling, and we knew that in five minutes everything in the room would be reduced to ashes-so you may be sure we worked pretty desperately. Just as John had dragged the heavy bed to the window and fastened the end of our blanket rope to it, I heard a crash of broken glass, and looking out perceived that the window immediately beneath us had yielded to the heat and a thick smoke with clouds of sparks was pouring through the broken panes. "You get 142 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. down first, Jack," said my friend, throwing the rope out, "I can jump better than you if the rope takes fire." I slid down pretty quick, and landed safe upon the flags below, although the rope was at least eight feet too short. John threw out the valise and was beginning to let himself down, when the flames leabed through the window below and the rope was in flames. I was never so frightened, perhaps, as at that minute, but John saw what had happened, and let go the burning blanket strips at once. He had to drop more than twenty feet, but he fell upon his feet on the pavement without other injury than a few bruises. But the shock made him stagger and fall over the edge of the curbing. This was all the work of about seven or eight minutes, but in that short space, the fire had made terrible progress. There were great arches of fire stretching across the street beyond Michigan street, only a square and a half from us, and near Water street. At that distance, however, one could only catch a glimpse of a building at intervals, so wholly enveloped were they in sheets of fire. It was nevertheless a spectacles so grandly, awfully beautiful, that could one but look upon it in safety, he could gaze for weeks at the sight. The whole street where we stood was lighted up with a bright glow, which faded into a deep red, almost blood-red, towards Chestnut street, where the flying crowds stood look back upon the fire, and the sea of human faces looked to gastly in that colored glare. Towards the river the glow brightened into white heat, like that of iron in a furnace and when the veil of flame parted; for an instant the walls beyond looked like the brightest gold. Red cinders were flying like red-hot shot carried by a fierce wind, hot with the breath of the fire that almost carried us off our legs upon turning a corner, and which even blew several trees down. Neilson and I made our way to Chicago Avenue, and turned down to Lasalle street. The flames had spread almost as far and as fast as we had walked. The crowd surged about, pushing, shoving, cursing, shouting, shrieking. John's valise gave him no end of trouble, and taught me to pity those who were carrying larger bundles. At last, completely tired out, he laid it on a doorstep and paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead. At that instant a hand crept round from behind, and the valise disappeared amid the crowd "; in less than no time." John rushed 143 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. frantically into the struggling mob shouting, "stop thliief!" and swearing "Lowland" oaths without number, but neither of us ever beheld the valise again, nor did we ever know who had absconded with it. We were suddenly startled by a piercing cry for help. In a window of the upper story of a lofty building which the flames were rapidly devouring, the figure of a girl appeared, extending her arms to the crowd for aid. Several of us stood beneath the window in a moment. One man in his excitement shouted to her to jump, and a fireman struck him on the mouth. "Do you want her to kill herself, you wild fool? Clear out and keep your infernal mouth shut. Hold on, my girl," he cried, " we'll have a ladder here in a moment," and hlie dashed through the crowd to fetch one. But the heat grew terrible around us, like that of an iron furnace, and we felt that before the ladder could be procured the upper story must fall in. One of the men shouted: "Have you got a blanket up there? Throw it down." She seemed stupefied with fear at first, but after a few seconds in answer to our shout of "a blanket, a blanket, a quilt! a carpet! anything!" Throw it down-we'll catch you!"-she disappeared in the interior of the room, as if to fetch it. Clouds of thick smoke commenced to pour from the window, first black, then mingled with sparks, then tinged with a glow of red, which told us that the fire had burst into the chamber. For a minute we thought all was over with the unfortunate girl, but she reappeared with a large bundle of somethiiig dark, and threw it to us. It proved to be a heavy carpet, the tacks still clinging to its binding, proving she must have just torn it from the floor. A dozen strong pair of arms extended it immediately, but the cinders and sparks were falling so thickly that it began to smoulder and burn in our very hands. " Jump, my lassie, jump at once," shouted Neilson, "Don't be afraid, we'll catch you." She caught hold of the window-frame and had got one foot upon the window-sill when a piece of the stone caping above, split by the terrible heat, fell and struck her upon the forehead before she could spring, about the same moment the ceiling of the room fell in, and th fire rushed in solid sheets from the window. Luckily, upon being stunned by the blow, she fell forward instead of backwar& for in the latter case, nothlling, could have saved her. We were 144 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. well braced to receive the shock, and she fell into the carpet. Had we been better prepared, we should have counteracted the whole force of the shock by giving the carpet a strong pull at the proper moment, as we used to do in our school-days, when we amused ourselves with the rough game of blanket-tossing. As it was, however, the shock of a body falling between forty and fifty feet, staggered most of us, and those nearest the sidewalk fell pell-mell one over the other, under the hail of fire. We who stood nearest the wall held the young woman up, however, and John, who was as brawny a Scot as any in the Queen's heavy cavalry, raised her in his arms like a child and insisted on carrying her to a place of safety, although several others volunteered their services for the same purpose. Just then the firemn;tn returned breathless, with two of his associates, carrying a ladder. "By Jove (he used a stronger phrase, however,) they have her there. Did she jump? Damn it, they had carried the ladder two or three blocks down Pearson street before I could get it. What! Not dead after such a jump as that! Oh, I see, the carpet! eh? Well, I feel better now, for by -" "Fall back for your lives! Look out!" cried one of the men, whose keen eye had observed that the walls of the tall building were swaying and trembling. In a moment we had rushed to the opposite side, and the upper portion of the great wall tottered and fell in a heap of glowing timbers and stone, whichl vomited a storm of sparks, hot dust, and crimson cinders as it struck the Nicolson. "Come on! run boys! we're in for it now," shouted John, as he led the way with his precious burden. He stumbled once or twice over fallen timbers, broken furniture, and other debris, but held up bravely, and we were soon at Huron street. Some notion of the rapidity with which the flames traveled may be gathered from the fact, that by the time we had arrived at Elm street, the roofs of the houses at the South-west and Northeast corners of Chestnut and Lasalle streets had caught the flame. We stopped to look at the rescued girl who had not yet come to consciousness. There was a deep cut on the forehead, a very pretty forehead it was, too, half concealed by the fair hair, which fell back in a bright shower over John's shoulder. But a stream of blood was staining the long tresses, and little drops were drip 145 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. ping over John's coat. "The poor lassie!" he cried, "George, lend me something to bind up this ugly cut, the poor thing will bleed to death." I gave him the muffler I wore round my neck; indeed, it was a plaid muffler which Neilson had given me himself, and which now came in useful. He bound up the wound in a barbarously clumsy manner for John was little gentler than a bear in such matters-and we proceeded on our march, with the fire thundering behind us, and the crowd rushing before us. Then John had his pocket picked, but encumbered as he was, he could do nothing, and bore his loss philosophically. I felt a violent tug at my watch-chain, but it was found of very strong links of silver, in imitation of a chain-cable, and resisted the strain. I turned upon the thief instantly with my revolver cocked, and he disappeared in the crowd at once. If it had not been that I feared to injure some one else, I should certainly have shot the villain that dared to ply his trade under such circumstances. We did not get beyond the reach of the flying sparks until we had got as far as North avenue, and even there, the sparks fell nearly as thick as ever. John had an otter-skin cap on, which he had brought from Canada with him, and it caught fire from a falling spark. I snatched it off his head, and put out the tiny flame, but I could not get him to put it on again. The girl recovered when we were traveling towards Fullerton avenue, and struggled a little in John's arms before she remnembered what had happened. "Let me down," she said, very gently. "I can walk now." " No, no, my lass," answered John, "you must not walk for another week at least, keep still and don't talk, I'll take care of you." I think she was quite reassured by the expression of John's rough good-humored face, blackened as it was with soot and smoke, for she laid her head on his shoulder and remained as quiet as a sleeping child. Neilson swore that he was going to walk to his uncle MacPherson's farm, which was at least ten miles off, that same night, and I insisted that he should do nothing of the kind, but rather come with me to a friend's house on the outskirts of the city, a little beyond Clayborne avenue. But John was as obstinate as most Scotchmen are, and I verily believe he would have carried his pretty, but heavy burthen, all the way to 1IacPherson's, were it not that just then a whip-lash was laid gently across his 146 )DESPER.ATEV ATTEMPT OF A FATHE.U TO SAVE HIS CHILDIEN. .,- / I 0 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IT. shoulders. He looked up with a frown, which speedily gave place to a broad grin, as he recognized Stephen Phillipson, an old English friend, who was guiding his buggy slowly through the crowd of fugitives. "Hallo, Neilson," he exclaimed, "you're Samaritanizing, are you? Jump up here with your girl. I'll takle care of you both. How are you George? Burnt out I suppose. Sorry I have no room in my vehicle for you. Never mind, you just come out to my house as fast as you can walk, and I'll make you comfortable for a night or two, anyhow. By George! this is awful, isn't it? I was near being burnt up myself. Came into the city to see a friend and I only just had time to get the harness on Billy before the stable was burnt up." And so the good natured Mark Tapley chatted on until we got clear of the crowd, when he touched up the horse, and drove, shouting, "we'll be waiting for you. George, old boy, come on as quick as you can." Well, this is nearly all I can tell you about the fire, that you have not already heard in the papers. I have only to say that we are getting on as well as before the fire, nearly, only we have removed to St. Lotis. But I am afraid I am going to lose my room-mate, for John has been making fierce love to Gertrude Petterson, (the name of his protege,) who turns out to be a Swedish girl from Stockholm. Yours Affectionately, GEORGE BUur.;sHAW. P. S.-If you wish to publish this, as you hinted in your last, you must invent a " non de plume." G. B. A YOUNG LADY RELATES A ROB TIC INCIDENT OF HER EXPERE, NCE. DEA~ IATE: * * * * * * * * Mary and I heard the bells strike the alarm that night, but on referring to the card, which we always kept hanging over the mantel-piece in our bed-room, we found the fire was a full mile away, and we determined to stay indoors. It was then a little after 9 o'clock, and father had gone over the river to see a relative. Mary opened the window of our room-which was on the third floor, you know-and exclaimed, "Oh Gussie! it must be an awful fire, I can see the light quite plain from here!" I looked out and saw a great red light in the direction of the fire, with 149 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. great yellow flames leaping up now and then above the roofs of the houses. We liked to go to fires, but the night was cold and stormy, and we thought that by the time we could reach the scene the fire would be well nigh extinguished. So in a little while we went to bed. It was a very windy night, and the rattling of window frames, and banging of shutters, kept us awake until we heard the general alarm booming over the city. We were so tired and sleepy, having been at a ball the night before, that we did not even get up. Of course we never imagined that we were in the least danger, although we could see that the light of the fire was growing brighter through our windows, and I believe we were asleep in ten minutes from the time the fire bells had stopped ringing. It must have been between eleven and twelve o'clock, when we were awakened by a tremendous banging at our door, and before we could get up to unfasten the lock, it was burst wide open, and in rushed father with his great coat on and a huge bundle under his arm. "Get up at once, girls," he cried, "if we are not out of the house in two minutes we shall all be burnt up." Just then I heard a curious crackling sound above our heads, the plaster began to break and fall from the ceiling, and the room filled with smoke. Outside we could hear a deep booming roar as of steady continuous thunder. We knew, immediately, that the house was on fire and there was no time to wait. And how terribly careless we girls are about our clothes, we could not lay our hands upon them at the momnent, but we would not have had time to put thelin all on in any case, especially in that stifling smoke which was growing denser every minute. There was an old pair of brother George's trousers, which I had been mending for him, hanging on a hook behind the door, and I pulled them on at once. I caught hold of the first articles in the way of footgear I could lay my hands on, and threw a water-proof cloak over my shoulders, which completed my traveling costumle. ~lary had only time to throw on a gown loosely, and snatch up a few clothes, when father suddenly seized us both by the arms, and almost flung us outside the door. Just as he had done so the crackling above our heads deepened into crashing roar, the ceiling fell in, and the whole room was blazing in anil instant like a furnace. Father hurried us out the back way, through the alley, and we found brother George with the horse and wagon all ready for us. The poor animal was terribly frightened, and prancing in terror, for the sparks were falling on him in a perfect rain of fire, but he became quiet when father spoke to him, and patted him, although he continued to tremble like an aspen leaf. I did not find that I had two left shoes on till we were in the wagon. As we drove along at almost a gallop we had a plain view of 1he fire, and a more awful sight cannot be imagined. The flames 150 ft (It - -'7l '(~ ~'; — ~ - A? ~. L, AFTER IT FELL, CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. seemed to touch thle very sky, and some of them were of the strangest colors —deep, rich crimson and azure; and on one occasion I remember seeing a jet of greenish fire burst through the roof of a great building far to our left. The roar of the fire became so terrible that we could hear nothing else for a time, it seemed to fill one's brain, and we could hardly distinguish what each other said in the tumult of the Hadean hurricane. it was strange to see the rats fleeing through the burning streets and alleys, and dogs and cats rushing to and fro. Several stray cows were dashing about wildly in their mad teror, and one of them knocked down and ran over a little girl right before us. Father jumped down and picked her up, George holding the reins meanwhlile, and found the poor little thing so bruised that she could not walk. We were pretty closely crowded in the little wagon, but I took her upon my lap. She had nothing on her but a thin night dress, and was severely bruised and cut. George took off his coat and wrapped it about her, and I happened to have a handkerchief in the pocket of my cloak with which I bound up an ugly cut upon her poor little arm. The crowd seemed to be full of thieves, pickpockets, and roughs, of the worst description, who robbed, swore, and fought, even iu such a time of danger. Of course the police could do nothing except to club a rascal now and then, and I remember seeing one scoundrel snatch a rich fur cloak from a lady's shoulders and escape with his booty. We stayed at cousin Phillip's house that night on West Randolpli street. At one time, on Monday, we were afraid that the fire would spread even to our temporary refuge, but it came no nearer than Jefferson and Adams streets. Father and George had been lucky enough to save some clothes, but we would have been rather at a loss for wearing apparel, had not cousin Phillip been able to lend us some for the time being. In a few days, hownever, we received some from our sister Jane in St. Louis, and we soon expect to be comfortable again, as we are about to have a new house built very near the old residence. Our little protege is with us still, and has quite recovered. Heartily yours, GUSSIE. P. S-.I have discarded the pants, although they were not so very bad after all. I can testify that they did excellent service while I wore them, and, if in the course of time I ever see occasion to don them again, I shall at least know how the thing is done. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET OF FLAME- INCIDENTS OF PERSONAL EX PERIENCE. I went to bed pretty early that Sunday, feeling unaccountably dull and tired-I had a couple of handsomely furnished chain '153 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. bers in the quietest portion of Franklin street, my bed-room being separated from the sitting-room by huge folding doors which I always closed at night. In the sitting-room I always placed a rug near the door for Milo, a gigantic bloodhound of the purest breed, whom I had purchased when a pup from a French planter in Idartinique, and is the best and truest friend a man could possess, having saved my life on more than one occasion. Milo scarcely ever barks or bays, he never makes too free by placing his paws on your shoulders and licking your face-he is what I might call a philosophically phlegmatic dog, never making a noise without good reason. My landlord had gone over the river with his wife and daulgh ter to visit his brother who lived on the West-side. And thus with no company but Milo, I went to bed, Milo lying down as usual outside the door. I did not fall asleep for nearly an hour after getting into bed, but lay awake listening to the moaning and shrieking of the wind about the tall chimnley-its weird whlistling through chinks, keyholes, and the ghostly noise it made by shaking the windowframes and swinging the creaking shutters. I began to think of the strange theory that wind was in itself a living intelligent essence, and that there might be a vital principal conltrolling its movements far more subtle than oxygen or nitrogen. And as I listened to its strange whisperings and moanaings, I fell into a doze, dheaming that the wind had found a tongue and was talking very strange things through the keyhole. Then I dreamed that Ethel (we were engaged) was sitting by the fire in the parlor, with a little bell in her hand, and a strange troubled look on her face. She called MIilo, and tried to tie the bell about his neck with a black ribbon, and after much trouble she got it on. Then I thought that the bell began to ring, although Milo did not move, the sound being sweet and soft at first as though faintly distant-then to grow clearer, and deeper, and louder, swelling in volume until the walls of the house thrilled in unison with its thunder-vibrating tones. Then Milo looked up in Ethel's face as if wondering, and Ethel patted his neck with an anxious face, and then the tones of the bell seemed to change into rushing thunder, and I awoke with a short and strange sense of fear — which increased when I really heard the deep sound of the fire bells, rolling out their deep summons on the night air. I sat 154 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. up instantly, bewildered for the nmomnent, and then I heard Milo give one long deep bay and throw himself against the fold-ing doors. I leaped up and opened them to find the room filled with the lurid light of a vast conflagration several blocks away Northward. Vast serpents of flames reared their quivering tongues upward as though to lick the stars, a fiery rain of crimson sparks was being carried far over the surrounding buildings by the fierce wind which wrestled horribly with the pythons of fire that were enveloping the buildings before me in their glowing sinuous folds. The streets were filled with a hurrying, struggling, panic-stricken crowd, and above the muffled thunder of mnyriad feet, the cries-and exclamations of the fugitives, and the shrill shriek of the well-nigh useless fire-engines-above all boomed the roar of the advanlcing sea of flames, far more awful than the thunder of the Atlantic wave tempest upon the rocky shore. That there was not an instant to be lost I could see at once -building after building sinking in the fiery waves even as I looked on. Dressing myself with all possible haste and securing the few valuable trinkets that lay within reach. I stood up on the threshold and cast a lirngering glance upon the richly furnished chambers which I had decorated in the style that German students love. To save even my portmanteau would be impossible-mlay library, furniture, clothes, pictures, silvermuounted hookahs, and meeischaumls-what could I save? I lookled again at the towering, quivering wall of flame now only about five hunidred yards distant, and taking the only article of value I had yet time to seize-a silver-mounted Smith & Wesson's revolver, rushed down the stairs and gained the street, lIilo giving a deep rolling bay of relief. We were not an instant too soon. Scarcely had we advanced half a block when a vast tongue of flame rose to an enormous height and then seemed suddenly to hurl itself forward like a stream of yellow lightning, piercing the brick walls of the house we had left as thou,gh it had been smitten by a thunder bolt. In about five minutes, as near as I can calculate, the whole structure tottered and crumbled into the Gehenna of flame that surged around it. Of course, Ethiel Summerfield was my first thought as I fled over the wooden pavements with the furious flamcs in rapid 155 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. pursuit, and the wind showering a hail of sparks upon me and INilo. Ethel surely must be out of danger, I thought, yet the memory of that dream filled me with a ghastly fear as I hurried toward the residence of the Summerfields, on Wabash avenue. I am not superstitious-in fact I am rather skepticS, but the strongest minds are liable to be impressed by trivill incidents at such times, and I felt unusually anxious. I have often thought since that there is some truth in the beautiful theory of mag,netic sympathy, the strange odic telegraph of thought, by which the mind in trouble calls for aid to the distant one it loves best. Thoughts like these flitted through my excited brain with the rapidity of lightning as I rushed over the smooth pavement, with Milo by my side. Everywhere I beheld dense crowds of fugitives rushing towards the lake with bundles, furnitore piled. upon little vehicles, mnattrasses, valises, every species of household goods-while the sidewalks were frequently piled up with valuables, the owners of which had entertained the vain hope of being able to hire a vehicle in which to convey them away, and which they were finally compelled to abandon to the all-calcining flames which rapidly swept onward in a gigantic crescent, like an organized host of fiery spirits, while the white-faced moon looked down over all from a canopy of clouds crimson-fringed in the light of the conflagration, and seemed to marshal the towering spectres of flame. A few moments later I arrived at Wabash Avenue. The fire had not yet reached any of its splendid marble palaces, although its fiery serpent arms went quivering over the dark housetops of yet uninjured blocks which lay between me and that ocean of scorching flame, standing out in ebony-black relief against the blinding brightness. I almost fancied that the griffin-tongued flames rose higher over the distant roofs and bent over the darkness as though to watch me with their awful glare. Had Ethlel's father returned from Boston whither he had gone for a few days on some commercial business, or had she a better protector than a few servants of questionable integrity, I should have felt less anxious as I stood beneath the gloomy marble portico, and rang the silver-toned door-bell as it had probably never been rung before. To my great relief I heard a sound as of little feet pattering down the great staircase and the next moment Ethel was in nay.rms. 156 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. 0, O George! I have been so frightened at the great fire; papa has not come back, and the servant's left the house two hours ago and have not returned." "My God! did they not tell you, Ethel? Did you not know the danger you are in.? in twenty minutes this house will be on fire. Is Mesty in the stable?" "Yes." Blesty (short for Mephistopheles) is the name of the splendid black horse who saved us that night. " Ethel, there is not an instant to spare. Rlun up stairs at once and get whatever warm clothes you can lay hands on while I harness Mesty. Quick, and - ait for me at the door. Good heavens!" I exclaimed, as a giant tougue of fire shot toward us from a distant building and seized upon a house but a few hundred yards away, "it will be a close race between life and death." Ethel was as brave and noble a little woman as man ever loved She did not become faint or dizzy, or ask useless questions-although the news of her imminent danger, of which she had had but a faint suspicion, and must have been a voilent shock to any nerves-but darted off at once, while I rushed to the stable-door. The house being situated in that part of Wabash Avenue from whence we could not have obtained a good view of the terribly rapid advance of the fire in its earlier stages. Ethel's ignorance of her situation could be accounted for-especially as the servants had been to much occupied with their own safety when the news was brought to them by a fugative from Van Buren street, to attend properly to the rescue of their employer's daughter. I afterwards learned that they had gone to Ethel's room, and not finding her there, fled, without further search, calling on her to save herself at once, a summons which she never heard. Upon finding herself alone, she concluded that the servants had merely gone to look at the fire, whose real extent and fury she knew nothing of-certainly a strange pro.. ceeding on their part to leave the house unguarded-and would shortly return. I had to pass through an alley at the rear of the garden to reach the stable. The crimson sparks were falling in vast showers, intermingled with fragments of blazing shingles, and timbers, borne towards me in a slanting, fiery rain, by the fierce wind which blew upon me, heated by its wrestle with the rushing fire, hotter than the breath of the red simoonl. And even as I reached the door of MIesty's stable at burning brand lighted upon 157 TiIROUGH THE FLAIES AND BEYOND. the roof, and the next instant the yellow serpent flames were dancing a demon dance among the dry shingles and inflamable roofing. No coachman was to be seen, and the great door was securely fastened with a stout wooden bar, that would defy human strength to break it. The side door was, however, fastened only by a lock, the bolts being rarely drawn. This I blew open with my pistol, and Milo and I rushed in together, just as the blazing hay began to fall from the loft. I quickly unfastened the halter, AIesty whinneying with joy, while he trembled in every limb as I hitched him to the light buggy and flung,, the great doors open, and scarcely had I leaped into the seat, when the flimsy buildings on both sides of the alley burst into flames. MIesty, however, shot through uninjured, save where the blazing hay had fallen on his sleek black skin, and almost leaped to the door of the house, where Ethel stood awaiting, well wrapped in her grey cloak; and as she sprang into the seat beside me, a bright flame ran like lightning along the cornices, and we knew that the house was beyond hope. Desirous of gaining the prairie as soon as possible I directed our course to the southwest, intending to gain some distance by pursuing the diagonal course of Blue Island Avenue, provided we were fortunate enough to reach it. 3Iesty shot through MIadison street and turned the corner of La Salle, like a race-horse, iIito running ahead with his long, untiring gallop. It was not until we were rushing along the white pavement that we saw the terrible danger before us. The houses upon the left side were a mass of burning timbers and glowing brick, and upon the right the flames would soon gain a fo6thold. Far away beyond Jackson street the flames were stretching their fiery arms across La Salle, barring our advance with an impassable rampart of the destructive element. Mesty stopped, rearing in terror. There was no retreat. The fire was behind us, and it were madness to approach the roaring hell of flame in the distance. Ethel clung closer to me, shuddering as we watched towering steeples and giant domes sink like fantastically-shaped fragments of coal into the terrible furnace beyond. But Jackson street stretched away to the right and left, only a few hundred feet ahead. If we turned up to the right two or three squares, and then made a turn to the left, a hard gallop 158 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. might save us. I patted MAesty's coal-black flank and spoke to him coaxingly as we turned the corner and sped along Jackson street. As we passed the first square, we behleld the red flames leaping across the streets far away to the right and left; and thus the fire glared upon us at every street opening in the vast blocks until we came to Canal street, stretching widely to right and left of us,-the hurricane of flame came roaring up on the left, but away to the right the buildings remained intact, and Mesty shot down it like the goblin steed of the Wild Huntsman in the German legend. And now it was truly a run for life or death,-a fierce conflagration on three sides of us, advancing with the terrible swiftness of a prairie fire, and the remorseless flames rushing to cut off our only chance of escape in front. The voice of the fire bells had been drowned in the fiery waves, and the terrible earth-shaking roar of the flame-tempest thundered nearer and nearer, drowning all other sounds, while the bloodred glow before us brightened into flame on the western side. In another instant the many-tongued fire was licking up the walls of the houses on our right, and ahead it was stretching its long arms across the splendid thoroughfare, and should it seize upon the opposite side ere we could pass, escape was impossible. We were scarce a hundred yards from the fire, and its hot breath, spark-laden, flew in showers about us. "Now, 3Iesty, your best," I cried, urging him forward with a stroke of the whip. He answered by laying himself out like a grey-hound, and dashing, through that fiery blockade with almost the rapidity of the bright tongues of flame. And as we shot beneath the arch of fire, with bent heads and hard-heldcl breath, the tower of a church just before us tottered in the folds of the anaconda flames, and scarcely had we passed when it hurled a mountain pile of ruins upon the spot touched by our wheels but an instant before. We had thus passed the great belt of fire, and I therefore pulled AMesty down to an honest trot, which was now sufficient to enable us to keep in advance of the whirlwind of flame. Neither of us spoke verbally, but we drew a long breath as we heard the crackling roar grow fainter behind, and Ethel rested her head on my shoulder weary with the terror of that awful ride: we must have felt as Perseus did when persued by the Gorgons over sea and land, and the thunder of the pursuing element sounded not less fearful than the roar of the brazen wings of the mythical fiends. 159 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. But whoever gazes upon such a conflagration must feel a sentiment of superstitious awe akin to that of the Oriental fireworshippers, and the ghastly fancy that there may be some truth in the Gheber's creed-that fire is a living intelligent being, invariably grows upon the mind as one follows the merry dance of the flames over roof and tower, along cornice and gable-or its serpentine embrace of the tall steeple from whose summit it streams in tresses of fire-or its triumphant roaring rush, through every window of the huge building once deemed fire-proof-or the weird manner in which it bends and stretches its fiery neck over great distances to lick up dwellings, one would fancy beyond its reach. And when it fails to leap the gap which separates it from what it seeks to devour, how angrily it will often recoil, only to rear itself upward and backward, as though to gather all its subtle python strength for another giant leap of a few hundred feet. Surely at such a sight we have all felt a horrible suspicion that there might be a terrible truth in Poe's personification of fire in the "Bells." And as the eerie verse comes to our mind, we feel that the strange thoughts therein are but the utterance of a wild fancy that has haunted many a )rain. Hear the loud alarm bells, Brazen bells, What a tale of terror their turbulency tells, Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune. In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor, Now, now to sit, or never, By the side of the pale faced moon. The sublimely terrific grandeur of such a spectacle of lightning flames as pierced the black vault of the North-western heavens on that awful night, could perhaps be properly described but by one pen-that of the author of "The Last Days of Pompeii." The only scene that could surpass the horror of this stupendous conflagration would be the destruction of a city by a mighty volcalic eruption. Marble fronts, huge structures of iron and brick, temples of hewn stone seemed to crumble, into sand in that glowing flame hotter than the famed seven-times-heated furnace of Nebuchacld 160 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. nezzar. Church spires vanished in awful light to give place to pinnacles of flame; vast stone slabs were calcined or split as though by lightning The huge dome of the court-house long towered darkly against the fiery horizon, like the vast helmet of some genius of fire in Oriental story; yet at length it, too, bore its garland of serpent flame and sank in a hell of fire-billows which hurled their red spray to the very clouds. What fireproof building could withstand a heat in which iron became as wax?-the very pyramids of Egypt could scarcely be relied on as places of safety if exposed to such a flame. How we drove over the river before the "IRel Death" in our rear, which rushed- after our flying wheels, had devoured all the bridges in its hungry rage, I can scarcely tell. It was all like a terrible nightmare, of which I can recollect little but the wild tumult of panic-stricken crowds before and the roar of flames behind, the rush of feet followed by the mad rush of the demon fireoaths and curses mingled with prayers and sobs, shrieks of hicldeous fear and the wvild laughter of women whom horror had converted into maniacs-the cries of helpless children and tender girls, flying, half nude, from death-the neighing of horses, maddened with fear, and the roaring of terrified oxen-the mad shouts of reckless men crazy with drink, and the groans of fugitives knocked down and trampled upon in the torrent throng of struggling men, women, children, horses and vehicles, that poured along the ash-strewn pavements and bridges under the storm of fire-flakes. Many a fair girl lost her wealth of beautiful hair, many rich dresses and poor ones as well, were riddied with pellets of flame that terrible night. It seems a miracle that the loss of life by fire was not at least ten timnes greater. Barrels of explosive oil piled in storehouses burst like shells and their fiercely blazing contents ran streaming along the gutters. Huge distilleries burnt fiercely, and the sheets of azuretinged flame that rushed through windows and doors to wrestle with the less subtle tongues of yellow fire, showed that alcohol was feeding the conflagration. But when the fire had leaped the river in pursuit of its victims, and had licked the huge gasometer with its flickering tongue, then as the earth seemed to vomit forth a vast sheet of lightning toward heaven, and miles of blazing edifices trembled to their heated foundations at the concussion of that dull, awful thunder, it seemed as though the horrors of the vast catastrophe had culminated. 161 THROUGH THE FLAIES AND BEYOND. The fire engines had long given their last despairing shriek ere we found ourselves in safety. The water-works buildings had crumbled in upon and paralyzed the giant engines that had supplied the water-veins of the great city now in flames. Men who had tried to save their houses toiled with all the vigor which human bone and brawn and muscle can endure, sweating at every pore in an atmosphere of stifling heat, and suffering a thirst which they could find no water to alleviate, swallowed glass after glass of the strong liquor that stupified them into forgetfulness of the approach of the remorseless element, and fell intoxicated upon the scorching pavement to be withered to little mounds of black ashes by the victorious all-devouring demon of flanme. Near Jefferson street we missed Milo, and paused an instant to look after him. We had seen him dart safely through the fiery gauntlet far ahead of us, yet shortly after he had dropped behi-ndl and we had not perceived him since. I uttered the wellknown cry, and above the roar and crash of the approaching flames and the muttering thunder of the flying crowds, I heard the bell-like voice of the giant hound roll in answering diapason. While wondering what could have detained our faithful friend so long, Mnilo appeared toiling after us with a great bundle of something partly on his neck-partly in his mouth. HIe bayed again as soon as hle beheld us, but ran wearily as though tired out. It is needless to say that I immediately hastened to relieve him of his burthen, when I found to my astonishment that said burthen was-a little girl! HIer little arms were clasped around his great neck, and she lay partly upon the dog's great shoulders, lie retaining hold of a fragment of her dress, as though fearful of losing his precious freight. The noble dclog must have carried the child at least a mile without our knowledge, but our carelessness in his regard was chiefly owing to our knowledge of his wonderfull powers of speed and endurance with his calm courage, wonderful even in a dog of his splendid breed. I gave the little girl, half dead with fright and exhaustion, into Ethel's care, and making Iilo spring in and lie down at my feet, I shook the reins and INesty trotted on bravely. I patted and petted the noble dclog, tokens of affection which he only received with a wag of the tail and an upward glance from his great dark eyes, as much as to say:'-It's nothing, I have only done my duty-" 162 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. Milo was never violently demonstrative in affection or gratitude. As soon as our little charge recovered sufficiently to speak, she threw her arms around Ethel's neck with a cry of joy and kissed her. "Why, George," exclaimed Ethel, "it is little Mary Williams," and I looked round at the child's face to recognize the golden-haired blue-eyed little daughter of Fred. Williams, our mutual friend and neighbor. Little Mary told us her story, as soon as she was able to speak' between her sobs of terror. It appeared that Fred and his wife had been obliged to leave their house and fly with such haste that they had not even time to take their clothes with them, but were compelled to hurry along in the throng of fugitives, lMIrs. Williams taking little Mary in her arms. In a sudden rush of the crowd mother and child fell, and were separated by the panicstricken crush of fugitives. The little timid girl was soon left far behind the fleeing crowd. She ran on and on, while the flames thundered behind, with a sound like the continuous roar of unearthly artillery, until exhausted with terror and weariness, she sank down upon the pavement which smoked in the breath of the fierce heat. The next thing she remembered was the touch of MIilo's cold muzzle against her cheek, and the deep bay of the hound calling for help. She knew the great hound well, and put her little arms around her great neck. We never heard Milo's summons for aid in our blind anxiety to save ourselves, but the brave dog seized the helpless little child by its dress, and having encouraged her to get upon its back, galloped after us just as the fiery breath of the vast fire began to singe the hair on his tawny skin. I always looked upon my pet almost as a human friend, and, indeed, he has since been doubly dear to me. Ethel tried to soothie the little sufferer, assuring her that papa and mamma were quite safe, and that she would soon see them again, till the poor little child sobbed herself to sleep in Ethel's lap. Not knowing but that the whole of the West-side as yet but partly injured might shortly be swallowed up in flame. I deemed it best to drive to the prairie at once rather than seek for any temporary shelter. The vast elevator on the river behind us burst into a tempest of flame as we drove slowly through the flying torrent of vehicles and human beings that surged through the streets glowing crimson in the awful glare. The 163 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. burning elevator was truly a grandly awful sight standing like a shadowy Typhon in the storm of fire, and vomiting a column of smokle, tongues of flame, and clouds of crimson sparks to the glowing skies. Even situated as we were then, we found the atmluosphlere almost suffocationg with smoke and heat, until it seemed that the very air had caught the fire and was burning behind us. MIothers were calling for their children, children for their fathers, husbands for their wives, and lovers for their sweethearts -all separated from one another on that terrible race for life or death. Delicate women and children were, in many instances, walking barefoot along the crowded streets with but the scantiest clothing on their limbs, and I particularly remember noticing a very pretty young girl, who must have had barely time to leave her bed ere the room took fire, as she was clad in nothing but her night clothes and a thin shawl. I felt relieved when I saw a good-hearted policeman, who was escorting his wife and children to a place of safety, rap his great warm coat around her shivering limbs and take her under his special protection. Women and men were conveying great bundles away in wheelbarrows; their bundles would get knocked off every now and then by some rough passer by. A few had been lucky enough to save their stores, but the greater number had barely time to save more than a bed or a quantity of clothes, bundled roughly together, and tied up in a huge parcel. Daylight had not yet broken when we drove out on the prairie, over which the vast fantastic shadows of the awful fire lengthened and contracted weirdly in the lurid light which gleamed far over the level plain, and tinged the crests of the ripples on the troubled lake with a ruby glow. I intended to drive Ethel at once to Evanston, where she had many wealthy friends, and where I had myself purchased a little dwelling for our future home. But seeing the prairie crowded with shivering groups of fugitives I though it would be as well to look about us and endeavor to find 3Ir. or Mrs. Williams, that they might feel at rest about their little girl. I felt certain that Milo could assist us in this, knowing that he would find our friends if in the crowd at all. So I drove Mesty slowly among the groups of homeless fugitives, and motioning to Milo to jump out, I gave the well-known signal, 164 \ \\4 -1 ~~'i~~~ ill' ~i ~ i'~~~~~~~~ ~~~j1. ~~~~~~~/ — ~- ___ / ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~4 Pi ri;;; __ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~, /~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I I_________ _______________________ I I - ( - ~ ~ II , 1, i. I I CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. and he started off at once as if perfectly aware of what I wanted him to do. Soon after I heard Milo's bark, and as I turned round, Fred Williams and his wife came up pale and weary. To describe their delight on finding little Mary safe, or the manner in which Milo was petted and hugged would weary the reader. 1 proposed to take the child to Evanston with us that night, but as they were going to Calumet almost immediately in a fi-iend's carriage, Ethel resigned her charge to them. Then as we drove towards Evanston we cast many a look behind at the flames which roared to heaven, until the lurid light grew into a fainter red in the distance, and the grey dawn broke over the scene of devastation. And the giant pillar of smoke mingled itself with the clouds behind us as Mesty's ironshod hoofs rang musically over the pavement of Evanston. I soon placed Ethel in the care of her relations, and drove Mesty down to my new house in the suburbs. Old Mary Delany, to whom I had given the charge of things in my absence, threw open the door as I checked Mesty and leaped to the gate. She was delighted to see me safe, and was terribly frightened at the account of our narrow escape. I put Mesty in the new stable, curried and combed, and washed his graceful black limbs, and having procured some corn and oats, and given him a good meal, I went into the house where Mary had a good hot break fast waiting for me, which I did full justice to, while I detailed to her the particulars of our race through the burning city. Neither Ethel's father nor I had lost seriously by the fire, his real estate property being situated in the suburbs which the flames had spared. What city property we had lost was fully insured-and unless the companies should fail, the catastrophe would finally only occasion us a temporary inconvenience. Two days after the conflagration he met his daughter, and the meet ing was-what every such meeting ought to be. Ethel's father determined that the marriage should come off Bext Sunday as had been intended-since Ethel would not per mit him to send East for any wedding gifts. So we had a quiet little wedding in Evanston, unattended save by a few old friends, among whom were Fred. Williams with his wife, and little Mary who had quite recovered her health and spirits. We had no 167 THROUGH THE FLAMlES AND BEYOND. white robes, or orange blossoms, or jewelry, or fashion, or gorgeous dinner party-but Ethiel looked as pretty in her calico dress as she ever did whlen famous as a drawing room belle at the parties in Avenue-and what was very shocking, Ethel allowed two large burned holes to remain unlmended in said dress — one on the sleeve and one on the shoulder-asserting that they wvere mementoes of the great fire, and that she would not permRit them to be mended on any consideration. 168 .II NCEMENT OF THE REBUILDING rjo In_ THE FIRE MARSHAL'S GRAPHIC STORY OF THE GREAT FIRE. STARTLING INCIDENTS FORCIBLY DETAILED. A reporter for the daily press called upon the Fire Marshal for his version of certain matters connected with the fire, and obtained, in a few pointed words, the best history of some of the most startling events yet given to the public. We are indebted to the Chicago Evening Mail for the following graphic "interview" which will be found intensly interesting, and more exciting than any other account occupying double the amount of space: Reporter.-Some of our exchanges have hinted that members of the Fire Department were drunk during the fire, and I have called on you, as one who had the best opportunity of knowing, to have the facts in the case. Marshal.-Well, sir, I don't know how it was elsewhere, but I did not see a drunken fireman that night. Reporter.-What is the character of the firemen in this respect? Marshal.-They are a tolerable steady set when on duty. Reporter.-Who appoints them? Marshal.-The Board of Police. I have not had the opportunity of choosing a single one of my men. Reporter.-What may have given rise to the report of drunkenness? Marshal.-I don't know exactly, but I did see a drunken bummer with a fireman's hat on, and I took it away from him. He begged me to let him keep it, but I refused to. I took it to the engineer of No 6 and told him to take care of it, and it wasn't long before I saw another fireman's hat walking off with a drunken fellow under it, and I took it away from him also. It may have been that others saw these two thieves and swore that the firemen were drunk. Reporter.-Very likely; but these witnesses say they saw the firemen working at the engines, and that they were staggering. Marshal.-But bless your soul (and here the Marshal got interesting, not to say excited, and raised up on his elbow and threatened the reporter's nose with his finger) the heat was awful;'twas like hell, and the firemen's eyes were red with the dust and fire, so that many of them were most blind. The hair was scorched off their faces, and they stuck to their machines like bull dogs, and worked them till they couldn't stand it any THROUGH THE FLA3ES AND BEYOND. longer. Yes, sir, and they did stagger, for they were clean beat, and many of them, had to go home for the exhaustion from the heat. They were tired, too, from the fire of the night before, and then to give the same men such a long pull again, why, an iron man couldn't have stood it. Reporter.-I hear the firemen were demoralized. 1Iarshal.-Well, now, it is pretty hard work for flesh and nerves to gain a victory, and then have to go to work again, and again, and again, and fight it all over. But that is just what the men did. And after they heard the waterworks were burned down they didn't give up; and they never quit working till all the water in the reservoirs and mains was used up. I don't thinkl that was being demoralized; not much. Reporter.-IIow was it that they got the victory? It looks to me as if it was a defeat worse than Waterloo. Marshal. —'Twas water low, that was what hindered us from saving a large part of the North Division. But I tell you we got the fire under; and if it hadn't been for that awful gale, we would have been all right. When I got down to the fire Sunday night, I got the engines all around it, and had hemmed it in so that it wouldn't have lived very much longer, when one of the men came and said, there is a church on fire north of us;and, sure enough,there was a church steeple all in a blaze two squares off, so I sent down an engine and pretty soon got two more to work on it, and had saved the long line of cottages just east of it, and the drug store across the road, and though the heat was awful, we had got it right under our thumb, when some one told us that the fire had caught still farther north. So I went down and there was the match factory just blazing, and the brick factory was smoking, and Bateham's shingle mills' yard was covered with shavings and cinders and flakes and flashing boards, just raining down on it so that it was on fire in more than a dozen places at once, and just beyond was the hardwood lumber yard, and everything dry as a bone, and as greedy to burn as gun-powder. I hldn't more than got this surrounded when the Canal street people had kindled a new fire right in the middle of the street, thouc,gh they didn't mean to, for they had piled up beds and beddilng and furniture in the street, and it took fire and then it went away like feathers, for the wind would take up a blazing mlattrass and fling it against a house, and that house went right down before you could get there. But I was just thinking that we wouldcl run the fire into the burnt district and stop it there, when they told me the fire was on the South Side. So I told the Fred Gund to get out of that right away, as the fire was coming awful heavy on her, and went across to Conley's Patch. The fire had then got well started, in two small buildings south of the Armory, and it just tore up Wells street, under those houses set 172 CHICAGO AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. on posts, and sidewalks raised up from the streets. Then I saw we should have heavy work before us. Vandercook wanted some powder, but I told him we had none, and he went off to get some. I had just got two engines to work when Jack said: "My God, she's ahead of us." So we went down, and you remember that carpenter shop behind the Oriental building and them low wooden sheds? Well, sir, they were blazing. I ordered up the Chicago and broke out the glass in the lower front window (that's where I got my hand hurt, you see,) and took the hose right through the basement, but the flames drove us out, and it wasn't long before the Oriental Hall was just rolling in flames. Why, if that building had iron shutters on her she wouldn't have burned; but the wind was fearful now. I saw a blazing board go right through the back window of a building in the block facing north on Washington, and pretty soon it was blazing fearful. BLOWING UP. Vandercook then came with the powder, and put it in the basement of the Union Bank building, but it just puffed and never jarred the block a bit, and before they could get ready to give her another lift they could not live inside of her. You see I thought we could save Sheridan's headquarters if we could only blow down the block across the street, but it was too late. Just then the Court House took fire, and I sent an engine to the Sherman House, hoping to save that, for I thought that the tower of the Court House would fall inside, and with the wide open space we should have some chance left yet. But the wind was just tremendous. I saw it blow a man against the lamp-post at the Pittsburgh and Fort Wayne ticket office, across the street from the Sherman House, and the post and the man came down together. A. H. Miller's store caught fire in six places from the awnings rolled up, and they served as pockets for the fire to lodge in. Then the old Tribune building got on fire, but I hoped yet to save the Sherman, when I found that those old wooden buildings on the south side of Lake street, and the sheds just south of them were just roaring with flame. Why the fire just roared like a lion, and I saw the Sherman House was gone up. Then I thought of my family in Thompson & Templeton's block, and I found that my wife had got all ready to go; but before we could get out anything but the piano and one chair, the house was too hot to hold us. Just then some one said the Water Works were on fire. R. B. Crane said he didn't believe it. So he drove up with a horse and buggy, and he says before he got there the flames were coming out of all the windows. It caught from some cinders from the Court House or the Board of Trade. (They say cinders 173 THROUGH THE FLAMES AND BEYOND. were on the crib, but I don't believe that, interrupted the reporter). Yes, sir, they were, and if you go out there you will see the marks on the roof, and it was life or death with the keeper and his wife, and they pumped water and put out the sparks, or the crib and they too would have gone, and perhaps you won't believe it, but a man was plowing up at Evanston, and that's 10 or 12 miles, and he saw sparks falling all around him; oh, you have no idea how the wind blew that night, and then there was something, I think, I don't know, I shouldn't like exactly to say it, but there must have been fire below ground as well as in the wind overhead. Two strangers came to me the next day and said they were strangers from the East stopping at the Sherman House, and when they saw that was going they went to the next street, and while standing there they saw a blue flame coming up through the iron gratings at the corner, and on looking in saw the whole basement on fire, and not a spark in the rest of the building. You saw at the corner of Wells and Randolph the road hove up; well, I followed that down to the gas-works, and it was raised up in half a dozen places; that was where the gas took fire and burst in the sewers. When the gas-works took fire, they let off the gas into the sewers, and the enormous gasometer fell down to the ground; and I think perhaps the buildings were filled with gas from the sewers and private drains, and took fire inside as well as from the roof overhead. People seemed stupified and crazed, and instead of putting out the sparks on their roofs, just let them burn, and the wind would take up pieces of blazing felt as big as half a sheet, and carry it up to a wooden cornice, and then that building was gone. And I didn't know but Allen was helping us on the West Side, when he and ten or twelve more were cut off, and they made up their mind they would have to swim for life. Allen had just stripped to his shirt and drawers when a tug and two vessels came along, and took them aboard; and while they held up long enough for that the masts and rigging of the boats took fire. The tug cast them off below Van Buren street bridge and put Allen and his crowd ashore. Here Allen saw a fire on Quincy street, and says that if the houses had been covered with kerosene they could not have burned so fast while he was going only two squares. So, with everything making against us, no wonder we couldn't get ahead. Reporter.-But had you engines enough? Mlarshall.-All the engines ever made couldn't stop her at the Oriental Building. She kept a jumping over our heads all the time so we couldn't get ahead. We had only fifteen engines in all. Two were at the repair shop, and only one engine was burned, for we saved all of the engines that were being repaired. Boston has 21 engines, but she hasn't half the territory; and look at her buildings. New York has twice as many as we, com 174 N —-' I, ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~DiILt~! '~~~~~'~~~~' 4 ~ ~ ~; // ~~~~~~~~ y\'~~~~~; :';1 I I iIIII!'IIfl1'!1 I1,;''i,v> I. - - ill II It /-i