The Books we have Lost--"The Lost Arts"--The Libraries of St. John which were Burned--The Pictures which were Lost--The few that were Saved--A Talk about Books and Pictures--The Future--What St. John Men must Do--Acknowledgments--Conclusion of the Story of the Fire 259 THE STORY OF THE GREAT FIRE IN ST. JOHN, N.B. CHAPTER I. The Great Fire--Its Extent--Its Terrible Rapidity--A Glance Backward--What the People Passed Through--The First Fire-- Protective Movements--The People Who Lent the City Money-- Minor Fires--Fire of 1823--The Great Fire of 1837--The Calamity of 1839--The Trials of 1841--The King Street Fire. One of the most destructive fires of modern times occurred at St. John, N.B., on Wednesday, the 20th June, 1877. It was more calamitous in its character than the terrible conflagration which plunged portions of Chicago into ruin, and laid waste the great business houses of Boston a few years ago. In a relative sense, the St. John fire was a greater calamity, and its people for a time suffered sterner hardships. The fire in the large American cities was confined to a certain locality, but in St. John an immense area of territory was destroyed in the incredibly short space of nine hours, and fully two-fifths of the entire city were laid in ashes, and one thousand six hundred and twelve houses levelled to the earth. The fire raged with overwhelming violence, carrying in its wake everything that came before it. At one time three portions of the city were burning at once, and all hope of checking the conflagration died in the hearts of men as the terrific volume of flame thundered and crackled, and hissed in sheets over their heads. The blinding smoke rolled heavenwards in a thick heavy mass; the flying embers were carried along for miles, and the brisk north-western wind brought the destroying flame to a thousand households. Men and women stood paralyzed in the streets, fearing the worst and hoping against hope. Those who had worked all afternoon trying to save their property now sank to the earth and barely escaped with their lives, for the fire was upon them. Nothing appeared to stay the march of the fiend. Immense piles, that seemed to stand like an army of picked guardsmen, were swept away in an instant; granite, freestone, brick and marble were as ineffectual in staying the conflagration as the dryest tinder-box houses which fed the flames at every turn. Even old stone buildings that had stood for sixty years, in the outskirts of the city, and had withstood many a serious fire before, now crumbled and tumbled before the conquering scourge.[A] 200 acres were destroyed, all that part of the city south of King Street, regiments of houses, stores and public buildings were burned, and the fire was only stayed when the water-line prevented its going further. The boundary of the burnt district followed a line on the eastern and