But stop! On this occasion the dance was not fairly under way; it was yet quite early in the evening, and though in the "full tide of successful experiment," to quote an old expression, it had not worked itself up to high pitch, when an unexpected interruption took place. Ah, fatal hour! Why was it not delayed? Why did it ever come? It was this: one of the older members came in and announced, "The Phalanstery is on fire!" I remember the loud, derisive laugh that came from the announcement, and was echoed through the room. I knew better than all from the sober face and earnest look of the person who said it--for he was one of my kin--that the statement must be correct, and I immediately said, "This is no joke, it is true!" A thing so easily verified needed not argument, and all rushed for the doors. I hastily changed slippers for boots and ran out. The barn hid the "Phalanstery" from sight. Passing to the other side of it I saw the flames pouring out of the front, surmounted by a heavy cloud of black smoke. Without definiteness of purpose we all started for the building, and all saw that there was no chance of saving it. Ere long the flames were chasing one another in mad riot over the structure; running across the long corridors and up and down the supporting columns of wood, until the huge edifice was a mass of firework, every part painted in glowing, living color, yet retaining its distinctive form. It was a grand and magnificent sight! The whole heaven was illuminated with its rosy light, and the earth was as red as the sky, for the fields, deep covered with white snow from the long storm, were brilliant from the reflection of the fire. Miles and miles away was the illumination seen. Men in Boston thought it was near by, it was so bright, and one man came from the city across the fields, thinking at every moment he would reach the object of his search, finding it and himself at last nine miles in the country. There was a pile of lumber near the building that we worked hard to save, but the flames were so hot we had to desist, and some cried out "Save the Eyry!" Turning on my heel I went to the greenhouse for water buckets, and entering saw the flowers lighted up with a heavenly glow of color, and so startlingly beautiful that in spite of my haste I lingered a moment to look at them. Roses and camellias, heaths and azaleas--whatever flowers there were in bloom looked superbly glorified in the transcendent light, and I uttered an exclamation of surprise at the lovely display. A moment after, armed with buckets, I started for the Eyry, and at the post of duty worked with a will to forward water to those above who were wetting the front of the house and roof to preserve it from the heat. It was not long before it was seen that danger to that building was past, and I returned to watch the fire fiend eat up the remains of our great edifice.