ut the middle of October I was invited to
accompany a friend to a ball given at Clunes, a township about fifteen
miles distant; and we decided to accept the invitation. As there had
been no rain to speak of for months, the tracks through the bush were
dry and hard. We set off in the afternoon in a one-horse buggy, and
got down to Clunes safely before it was dark.

Clunes is a rather important place, the centre of a considerable
gold-mining district. Like most new up-country towns, it consists of
one long street; and this one long street is situated in a deep
hollow, close to a creek. The creek was now all but dry, like the
other creeks or rivers in the neighbourhood.

The ball was given, in a large square building belonging to the
Rechabites, situated in the upper part of the town. The dancing began
about half-past nine, and was going on very briskly, when there was a
sudden cry of "fire." All rushed to the door; and sure enough there
was a great fire raging down the street, about a quarter of a mile
off. A column of flames shot up behind the houses, illuminating the
whole town. The gentlemen of the place hastened away to look after
their property, and the dance seemed on the point of breaking up. I
had no property to save, and I remained. But the news came from time
to time that the fire was spreading; and here, where nearly every
house was of wood, the progress of a fire, unless checked, is
necessarily very rapid. Fears now began to be entertained for the
safety of the town.

The fire was said to be raging in the main street, quite close to the
principal inn. Then suddenly I remembered that I, too, had something
to look after. There was the horse and buggy, for which my friend and
I were responsible, as well as our changes of clothes. I ran down the
street, elbowing my way through the crowd, and reached close to where
the firemen were hard at work plying their engines. Only two small
wooden houses intervened between the fire and the inn. I hastened into
the stable, but found my companion had been there before me. He had
got out the horse and buggy, and our property was safe. Eight houses
had been burnt down along one side of the street, before the fire was
got under.

After this excitement, nothing remained but to go back and finish the
dance. Our local paper at Majorca--for you must know we have "an
organ"--gave us a hard hit, comparing us to Nero who fiddled while
Rome was burning, whereas _we_ danced while Clu