, and the air
was full of all kinds of fire-works. The whole supply of fire-works had
become ignited, and were blowing off where they listeth, without regard
to anybody's feelings.

The crowd became panic stricken, and there never was another such a
scene, and never will be until the last great day, when a few thousand
people suddenly find that they have got into hell, by mistake, when they
thought they were ticketed through to the other place. It was perfectly
awful. Prominent citizens who usually display great pluck, became
fearfully rattled.

A man named Martindale, a railroad man who weighs over two hundred
pounds, was standing near a telegraph pole, and as the firing commenced
he climbed up the pole as easy as a squirrel would climb a tree, and
when it was over they had to get a fire ladder to get him down, as his
pants had got caught over the glass telegraph knob, and he had forgotten
the combination, and besides he said he didn't want to take off his
clothes up there and come down, even if it _was_ dark, because it would
be just his luck to have some one fire off a Roman candle when he got
down.

The Hon. Norton J. Field was another man who lost his nerve. He was
explaining to some ladies one of the pieces that was to be fired off,
which was an allegorical picture representing the revolution, when the
whole business blew up. He thought at the time, that the explosion was
in the programme, and was just reassuring the ladies, by telling them
it reminded him of battle scenes he had witnessed when he was on the
military committee in the assembly, when he noticed a girl near him
whose polonaise had caught fire, and he rushed up to her, caught her by
the dress, intending, with his cool hands, to put out the fire.

The girl felt some one feeling, as she supposed, for her pocket-book,
and she started to run, yelling, "pickpocket," and left the burning
polonaise in Mr. Field's hands. He blushed, and was about to explain to
his lady friends how the best of us are liable to have our motives
misconstrued, when somebody threw a box of four dozen of those large
firecrackers right at his feet, and they were all on fire. Ten of them
exploded at once, and he grabbed the polonaise in one hand and his
burning coat tail in the other, and started West on a run.

The steward of the Gideon's Band Club House, at Burlington, said he
arrived there at daylight on the morning of the 5th, and he still held
the pieces of dress, but the