It so happened that an old friend, the maiden lady before alluded to,
had been staying with us for a few days. She had left us for a visit to
my sister, and as some relatives of hers were about to return to Britain
by the way of New York, and had offered to convey letters to friends at
home, I had been busy all the day before preparing a packet for England.
It was my intention to walk to my sister's with this packet, directly
the important affair of breakfast had been discussed, but the extreme
cold of the morning had occasioned such delay that it was late before
the breakfast-things were cleared away.
After dressing, I found the air so keen that I could not venture out
without some risk to my nose, and my husband kindly volunteered to go
in my stead. I had hired a young Irish girl the day before. Her friends
were only just located in our vicinity, and she had never seen a stove
until she came to our house. After Moodie left, I suffered the fire to
die away in the Franklin stove in the parlour, and went into the kitchen
to prepare bread for the oven.
The girl, who was a good-natured creature, had heard me complain
bitterly of the cold, and the impossibility of getting the green wood
to burn, and she thought that she would see if she could not make a good
fire for me and the children, against my work was done. Without saying
one word about her intention, she slipped out through a door that opened
from the parlour into the garden, ran round to the wood-yard, filled her
lap with cedar chips, and, not knowing the nature of the stove, filled
it entirely with the light wood.
Before I had the least idea of my danger, I was aroused from the
completion of my task by the crackling and roaring of a large fire,
and a suffocating smell of burning soot. I looked up at the kitchen
cooking-stove. All was right there. I knew I had left no fire in the
parlour stove; but not being able to account for the smoke and smell of
burning, I opened the door, and to my dismay found the stove red hot,
from the front plate to the topmost pipe that let out the smoke through
the roof.
My first impulse was to plunge a blanket, snatched from the servant's
bed, which stood in the kitchen, into cold water. This I thrust into the
stove, and upon it I threw water, until all was cool below. I then ran
up to the loft, and by exhausting all the water in the house, even to
that contained in the boilers upon the fire, contrived to cool down the
pipes which passed through the loft. I then sent the girl out of doors
to look at the roof, which, as a very deep fall of snow had taken place
the day before, I hoped would be completely covered, and safe from all
danger of fire.
She quickly returned, stamping and tearing her hair, and making a
variety of uncouth outcries, from which I gathered that the roof was in
flames.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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