Democratic Sentinel, Volume 1, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 June 1877 — RAWING FLAMES. [ARTICLE]

RAWING FLAMES.

Particulars of the Great Conflagration in St. John —Graphic Description of the Origin and Progress ot the Irresistible Flame. [St. John (N. B.) Cor. Chicago Times.] Four hundred acres of St. John are today a forest of chimneys, and’ the remaining half of the city stands paralyzed by the awful blow that has fallen on the trade, wealth, and prosperity of the maritime provinces. With a Fire Department well organized and well equipped ; with what was at all previous times considered an ample water supply, and with the experience acquired by the extensive conflagration in your city, Boston, Portland, and other cities of the Union—despite all this, in less than twelve hours a torrent of flames, laughing at the pigmy efforts of mortal man, wiped out of existence the accumulated wealth of years, gathered from the sea and the vast timber forests of the interior. Commencing in a little Jog shed at the foot of the slip, well down to the bottom of the harbor, a Are that, had water been at band, could have been extinguished in less than fifteen minutes, sprung up that rapidly glided up the wharf, and intoju nest of low wooden houses along the street running at right angles to the slip. Fanned by a roaring wind, the fire crept up the crests of the many hills lying along the Portland road, and once at the summit, where the wind had a fuU rake, it spread in a northwesterly direction, through Mill and Dock streets, pouring down the long slope of the latter street in a torrent of flame that drove the steamers before it like chaff before an October blast. Massive stores of brick and stone lined this street on either hand, but they melted away before the intensity of the heat, and the same scene here as in Boston was re-enacted, where the stout wooden blocks held up their walls the longest. From Dock street to the water’s edge the wharves were studded with well-filled warehouses, whose inflammable contents seemed to increase the fury of the fire, that sprung from point to point with lightning-like rapidity. Sparks and huge cinders fell in showers over the devoted section, and, igniting as they fell, started minor fires that served to swell the huge monster from wiiich they sprang. On, on, down Dock street, came the flames, till Market square was reached; and here, for the first time, the sense of the city’s danger seemed to flash on the startled people. If the fire crossed the square, all admitted it would sweep Water and Prince William streets, but no one supposed for a moment that anv otlier section was in danger but this, which lay directly in the course of the wind. Once down to the end of Prince William street, the flames would be carried into the harbor, and nothing would be left to bum. Here, said all, the fire would end; for it could not possibly climb the steep hill to tlie left. A valley of ashes was the worst expected, and not a city in ruins. But out from their security were they startled, as from Canterbury, tliree 1 (locks away and lialf way up the hillside, came the startling cry of fire. A spark had caught in a wooden building. The engines were all engaged fighting flames in the valley below, and what could it do but bum, bum?

Up the hillside ran the flames. House after house fell iu rapid order, across the Market slip to the southern side. Thus the two fires sped ou, on a parallel course, leaving the narrow slip of a block between intact. At this time—some say a little before—flames were seen rismg from the barracks, an old wooden structure well down to the water’s edge, about midway the width of the city. This was the greatest blow of all, for around the barracks in all directions but toward the shore lay 1 docks of wooden houses, inhabited by businessmen and laborers. To extinguish this new conflagration, half a mile away from the lire on Water street was not to be thought of, and, as the wind rose to a howling gale, block after block went down, as if felled by a hurricane. Household goods, moved streets away for safety, a few minutes after being deposited in fancied security were swallowed up. The panic-stricken people, grabbing what little they could carry in their hands, fled to the higher ground, to the heart of the city. Two distinct conflagrations were destroying St. John, one gutting her business center, the other laying low the homes of her artisans. Yet another fire, and tlio gap between the two was bridged. A spark lodged in the high spire of Trinity Church, a tongue of flame crept down to the belfry, and the fire soon wrapped the historic edifice in its deadly embrace. From here to the Victoria Hotel, the pride of the city, was but a work of a few minutes. Twenty minutes more, and the ruin was consummated. Spreading northeast, south and west, the tire swept on, till tlie sun went down on 200 acres of the city in ruins. With the going down of tho sun the wind seemed to freshen, and tlie lire to quicken its terrible pace. Street after street was crossed, block after block swept away, till nothing was left from King street—the broadest and best in the city —to the water’s edge, save five isolated houses. The width of King street east saved the half of the city now standing. Here the firemen had an opportunity to fight the fire to advantage, and by copious supplies of water confined it to the south side of that street. On the crest of the hill, dividing King street proper from its eastern continuation, lies King square ; and this break helped to check the fire ; and back of this again, ou the upper side, was the old grave-yard, and opposite the stone Court House and jail. At this point the fire was cut off, and though it reappeared further down King street, east, for a section of a block, its force was spentjinjthat direction. Not so, however, along to the slope from King street to the harbor, nearly all of which was destroyed before it spent its fury and died, not without a fierce struggle, almost at the water’s edge at the rear of the town. The bounds of the conflagration are about as follows : The fire entered King street on the westerly side from Germain and Canterbury streets, extended northerly on Charlotte street to the St. J ohn Hotel, burning the Trinity school in its course to King square, and leveled to the ground the Lyceum, destroying the marble works of Mr. S. P. Osgood and Messrs. Millagan, proceeding to Mr. Robinson’s stable, across to St. Michael’s Hall; up Leinster street, and then back to King street east; down to Pitt street; from there almost to the bank, on Crown street, all the buildings south of King street have been burned, the exceptions being rare. In the other part of the city the conflagration was stopped about North street, having extended as far up Union street as Messrs. J. &T. Robinson’s. The Bank of British North America was saved. The police office and station opposite were burned. To depict the terrible effect of tail pttorMM 9l fire i? M hsposeibility;

but ite lesson is deeply engraved on the hearts of the men of St. John. Merchant and mechanic, rich and poor, are reduced to an equality. The loss of life was something terrible. Already thirteen bodies have been recovered, and the wildest rumors are afloat as to the number missing. Probably not leis than twenty-five lives were lost.