knew ; se. e at. your ht or k Raft by that ed o owl; 'Rafte THE FIREMAN'S PRAYER. It was in the gray of the early morning, in the season of Lent. Broad Street, from Fort Hill to State Street, was crowded with hastening worshippers, attendants on early mass. Maidens, matrons, boys, and men jostled and hurried on toward the churches: some with countenances sincerely sad, others with apparent attempts to appear in accord with the sombre season; while many thoughtless and careless ones joked and chatted, laughed and scuffled along in the hurrying multitude. Suddenly a passer-by noticed tiny wreaths and puffs of smoke starting from the shingles of the roof upon a large warehouse. The great structure stood upon the corner, silent, bolted, and tenantless; and all the windows, save a small round light in the upper story, were closely and securely covered with heavy shutters. Scarcely had the smoke been seen by one, when others of the crowd looked up in the same direction, and detected the unusual occurrence. Then others joined them, and still others followed, until a swelling multitude gazed upward to the roof over which the smoke soon hung like a fog; i abs while from eaves and shutter of the upper story little jets ies, 'Rafte 66 of black smoke burst suddenly out into the clear morning air. Then came a flash, like the lightning's glare, through the frame of the little gable window, and then another, brighter, ghastlier, and more prolonged. "Fire!" "Fire!" advise screamed the throng, as, moved by a single impulse, they pointed with excited gestures toward the window. Quicker than the time it takes to tell, the cry reached the corner, and was flashed on messenger wires to tower and steeple, engine and hose house, over the then half-sleeping city. Great bells with ponderous tongues repeated the cry with logy strokes, little bells with sharp and spiteful clicks recited Raft the news; while half-conscious firemen, watching through the long night, leaped upon engines and hose-carriages, and rattled into the street. est hot Soon the roof of the burning warehouse was drenched with floods of water, poured upon it from the hose of many engines; while the surging multitude in Broad Street had grown to thousands of excited spectators. The engines puffed and hooted, the engineers shouted, the hook-andladder boys clambered upon roof and cornice, shattered the shutters, and burst in the doors, making way for the rescuers of merchandise, and for the surging nozzles of available hose-pipes. But the wooden structure was a seething furnace throughout all its upper portion; while water and ventilation seemed only to increase its power and fury. "Come down! Come down! Off that roof! Come out of that building!" shouted an excited man in the crowd, struggling with all his power in the meshes of the solid mass of men, women, and children in the street. "Come down! For God's sake, come down! The rear store is filled with barrels of powder!" 66 Powder!" "Powder!" "Pow "Powder! Powder!" screamed the engineer through his trumpet. "Powder!" shouted the hosemen. called the brave boys on roof and cornice. answered the trumpet of the chief. "Powder!" der!" "Powder!" echoed the men in the burning pile; and from ladder, casement, window, roof, and cornice, leaped terrified firemen with pale faces and terror-stricken limbs. "Push back the crowd!" shouted the engineer. for "Run your lives! Run! Run! Run!" roared the trumpets of the engineers. But, alas! the crowd was dense, and spread so far through cross streets and alleys, that away on the outskirts, through the shouts of men; the whistling of the engines, and the roar of the heaven-piercing flames, the orders could not be heard. The frantic beings in front, understanding their danger, pressed wildly back. The firemen pushed their engines and their carriages against the breasts of the crowd; but the throng moved not. So densely packed was street and square, and so various and deafening the noises, that the army of excited spectators in the rear still pressed forward with irresistible force, unconscious of danger, and regarding any outcry as a mere ruse to disperse them for convenience' sake. The great mass swayed and heaved like the waves of the sea; but beyond the terrible surging of those in front, whose heart-rending screams half drowned the whistles, there was no sign of retreat. As far as one could see, the streets were crowded with living human flesh and blood. "My God! My God!" said the engineer in despair. "What can be done? Lord have mercy on us all! can be done? "What can be done? said one of Boston's sprinkled with gray. I'm the man to do it. What I'll tell you what can be done," firemen, whose hair was not yet "Yes, bring out that powder! And Better one man perish than perish all. Follow me with the water, and, if God lets me live long enough, I'll have it out." Perhaps, as the hero rushed into the burning pile, into a darkness of smoke and a withering heat, he thought of the wife and children at home, of the cheeks he had kissed in the evening, of the cheerful good-by of the prattling ones, and the laugh as he gave the "last tag;" for, as he rushed from the hoseman who tied the handkerchief over his mouth, he muttered, "God care for my little ones when I am gone.' Away up through smoke and flame and cloud to the heights of heaven's throne, ascended that prayer, "God care for my little ones when I am gone," and the mighty Father and the loving Son heard the fireman's petition. Into the flame of the rear store rushed the hero, and, groping to the barrels, rolled them speedily into the alley, where surged the stream from the engines; rushing back and forth with power superhuman, in the deepest smoke, when even the hoops which bound the powder-barrels had already parted with fire, and while deadly harpoons loaded to pierce the whales of the Arctic seas began to explode, and while iron darts flashed by him in all directions, penetrating the walls and piercing the adjacent buildings. But as if his heroic soul was an armor-proof, or a charm impenetrable, neither harpoon nor bomb, crumbling timbers, nor showers of flaming brands, did him aught of injury, beyond the scorching of his hair and eyebrows, and the blistering of his hands and face. 'Twas a heroic deed. Did ever field of battle, wreck, or martyrdom, show a braver? No act in all the list of song and story, no self-sacrifice in the history of the rise and fall of empires, was nobler than that, save one, and then the Son of God himself hung bleeding on the RUSSELL H. CONWELL. cross. DOWN WITH THE HEATHEN CHINEE! FAITH, this country will go to the devil, We have fallen on days that are evil, With his queer wooden shoes and his pigtail, Bad luck to the Heathen Chinee! Just think of a fellow who labors Oh, murder that Heathen Chinee! Don't talk of this refuge of nations, And beer-drinking old Germanee, You may search in the jails and poorhouses, And their uncles, their aunts, and their cousins, Oh, the country will go to the devil, - Just because of the Heathen Chinee! What's the good of a rat-eating stranger This home-keeping Heathen Chinee? Worse than all, when he comes for to peg out, To the land where he made all his money; Of his copper-skinned carcass, the miser! Let us go for the Mongol, my brothers! There are none of them drunkards or loafers, Hurrah for the home of the free, Don't talk of the honor of treaties, JOHN CHINAMAN'S New York Sun PROTEST.. MELICAN man no wantee John Chinaman ally mo': Not muchee: he slay, "John, I wipee flo' What fo' Melican man No wantee John Chinaman Ally mo'? John Chinaman he no gettee dlunk heap: Alle dayee long, and takee sleep, Boil watel fo'. wat you call him? -oh, hashee! What fo' Melican man No wantee John Chinaman Ally mo'? John Chinaman he no punchee head much; Ebly dayee to help fillee bellee. What fo' Melican man No wantee Ally mo'? |