rfectly appalling." The half-dressed family gathered
around the mangled form of Mr. Ellis, and gave vent to loud expressions of
sympathy. A doctor was quickly sent for, who stanched the blood that was
flowing from his hands and head.

"I don't think he can live," said he, "the fall was too great. As far as I
can judge, his legs and two of his ribs are broken. The best thing we can
do, is to get him conveyed to the hospital; look in his pockets, perhaps we
can find out who he is."

There was nothing found, however, that afforded the least clue to his name
and residence; and he was, therefore, as soon as persons could be procured
to assist, borne to the hospital, where his wounds were dressed, and the
broken limbs set.

CHAPTER XXI.

More Horrors.

Unaware of the impending danger, Mr. Garie sat watching by the bedside of
his wife. She had been quite ill; but on the evening of which we write,
although nervous and wakeful, was much better. The bleak winds of the fast
approaching winter dealt unkindly with her delicate frame, accustomed as
she was to the soft breezes of her Southern home.

Mr. Garie had been sitting up looking at the fires in the lower part of the
city. Not having been out all that day or the one previous, he knew nothing
of the fearful state into which matters had fallen.

"Those lights are dying away, my dear," said he to his wife; "there must
have been quite an extensive conflagration." Taking out his watch, he
continued, "almost two o'clock; why, how late I've been sitting up. I
really don't know whether it's worth while to go to bed or not, I should be
obliged to get up again at five o'clock; I go to New York to-morrow, or
rather to-day; there are some matters connected with Uncle John's will that
require my personal attention. Dear old man, how suddenly he died."

"I wish, dear, you could put off your journey until I am better," said Mrs.
Garie, faintly; "I do hate you to go just now."

"I would if I could, Emily; but it is impossible. I shall be back
to-morrow, or the next day, at farthest. Whilst I'm there, I'll----"

"Hush!" interrupted Mrs. Garie, "stop a moment. Don't you hear a noise like
the shouting of a great many people." "Oh, it's only the firemen,"
replied he; "as I was about to observe--"

"Hush!" cried she again. "Listen now, that don't sound like the firemen in
the least." Mr. Garie paused as the sound of a number of voices became more
distinct.

Wrapping his dressing