et the fire burn. With a revolver in hand, his sister rushed out of an
adjoining room, her eyes flashing with a more terrible fire than that of
rebel kindling: 'Begone, thou brutal wretch!' said the heroine, as she
aimed with precision at the rebel's head, who scampered away in a terrible
fright.

"Three sides around a lady's home (Mrs. Denig's) are on fire. The fourth
is enclosed with an iron fence. An attempt to cross the fence burns her
palm into crisp. She sits down in the middle of her narrow lot. Around her
she folds a few rugs, dipped in water, to shelter her person against the
heat. An old negro crouches down by her side, and helps to moisten the
rugs. Her face, though covered, is blistered by the intense heat. Now and
then God sends a breath of wind to waft the hot air away, and allows her
to take breath. Virtually, it was a martyrdom at the stake, those two
hours amid the flames. Only after she was rescued did the sight of her
ruined home open the fountain of tears. 'Don't cry, missus,' said Peter,
the old negro; 'de Lord saved our lives from de fire.' In a few hours two
thousand people are scattered through the suburbs of the town, in the
fields, on the cemetery, amid the abode of the dead. A squad of rebels
seized a flag, which a lady happened to have in her house. With some
difficulty, she wrested it from their grasp, folded it around her person,
and walked away from her burning house, past the furious soldiery,
determined that the flag should become her shroud ere it should fall into
the hands of the foe.

"Never was there so little saved at an extensive fire. Sixty-nine pianos
were consumed. The most sacred family relics, keepsakes and portraits of
deceased friends, old family Bibles, handed down from past generations,
and the many objects imparting a priceless value to a Christian home, and
which can never be replaced, were all destroyed.

"In the dim moonlight we meditated among the ruins. Chimney-stacks and
fragments of walls formed the dreary outline of ruined houses. Not a light
was left but the fitful glowing of embers, amid the rubbish that fills
the cellars. The silence of the grave reigns where oft we have heard the
voice of mirth and music, of prayer and praise. Now and then some one
treads heavily along in the middle of the street; for the pavements are
blocked up with fallen walls.

"Here we must pause a moment. More than fifty years ago, a happy young man
brought his bride into yonder hous