d, and I attributed a part of this to Voisin's
ever courteous and too frequent presence in Washington Avenue. I was
much with him in these days. Every day almost would find us together
for a longer or less length of time, according to my occupation or
lack of it.

One day, after a long and learned discussion of the water-crafts of
all countries, we, Lossing and myself, turned our steps toward the
Transportation Building to see a certain African brinba, sent all the
way from Banguella, Africa, and, to my eyes, a most unseaworthy craft.

It was shortly after the noon hour, and Lossing and I had been
lunching with June Jenrys and her friend, by invitation, in
consequence of which I was not disguised, while Lossing, by command of
Miss Jenrys, had worn and still wore his guard's uniform.

As we were passing from the main building into the annex I saw Lossing
start, and, looking up, beheld Monsieur Voisin standing alone in the
aisle, and evidently awaiting our approach.

He was, as usual, smiling and affable, and 'overjoyed to meet with
congenial spirits.' He fell into step with us at once, and so we were
proceeding in the direction of the mammoth locomotive display, when
suddenly the alarm of fire rang out all about us, and the cry, 'Fire!
fire! fire!' seemed sounding everywhere in an instant.

Following in the wake of a hundred others, we hastened out.

We were not far from the scene of that awful conflagration, and we
rushed forward, as men do at such times, carried out of themselves
often and reckless of danger.

Who can paint the story of that awful fire? What need to tell it? It
has passed out of history, and its victims to their rest and
recompense.

The mourning caused by that hateful death-trap, the Cold Storage
Building, is known to all the world; the recklessness, the heroism,
the strict obedience to orders in the face of death, the horror, the
suffering, the loss of gallant lives, all these are known; and yet
there remains much that has never been told and never will be: tales
of reckless daring, of risks taken for humanity's sake, of kindly,
humane deeds unchronicled, and of cowardice, selfishness,
dishonourable acts that were better left unwritten.

Among those who stood ready to aid, and who showed in that dreadful
time neither fear nor undue excitement, was Lossing. Where help was
needed his hands were ready, and it was not long, so ill-fitted was
the tindery edifice to resist the flames, before the