slip full of schooners and wood boats, slipped into Tilton's Alley, and rushed along with frightful rapidity on both sides of every thoroughfare in its way. On the one side of the city the fire was stopped at North Street, having reached J. & T. Robinson's house and store. [Illustration: THE BUILDING WHICH PREVENTED THE FIRE FROM EXTENDING UP KING ST.] CHAPTER III. The Fire in King Street--Recollections--The Old Coffee House Corner--The Stores in King Street--The Old Masonic Hall--The St. John Hotel--Its Early Days--The Bell Tower--King Square-- A Night of Horror--The Vultures at Work--Plundering the Destitute. The fire entered King Street in the western side from Germain and Canterbury Streets. It began by burning down Lawton & Vassie's brick store, erected on the site which contained the famous Bragg building. This stout building and Bowes & Evan's premises were soon buried in the common ruin. The fire went along King Street, destroying Mr. Sharp's dry goods store, Jas. Adams & Co's., James Manson's magnificent palace, including his safe and all his valuable papers, John K. Storey's and Magee Bros., Imperial Block. This last place is quite historic. This block was erected in 1852, by the late John Gillis. It was built on the site where the memorable coffee house stood. Here of an evening for years and years the old men of the place used to sit and gossip and smoke and sip their toddy. Here in 1815 they met to learn the news of the war between France and England, and read the story of Waterloo four or five months after it was fought and won. In this sort of Shakspeare tavern, the leading merchants of the day met and chatted over large sales, and compared notes. Here a verbal commercial agency was established, and here delightful old gossips, like busy Sam Pepys and garrulous old busybodies, like Johnson's Bozzy, met and told each other all about everybody else's affairs. What a time these old fellows had every night sitting there in that quaint old coffee house, chatting and smoking, smoking and chatting again. And there were Ben Jonsons in those days, who wrote dramatic pieces and showed them to their friends over a cup of hot spiced rum. And poets too, full of the tender passion, sighed out hexameters of love in that old coffee house so dear to some of the men we meet to-day who lost everything in the flames on that dark Wednesday in June. Ah, yes, the grand old coffee house was torn down in 1852 to make room for the handsome pile of stone and brick which perished only the other day. The corner is again bare, and the few who remember the coffee house are fast passing away. [Illustration: The Burland Desbarats Lith. Co. Montreal KING STREET.]