the afternoon till it was nearly eight o'clock, and with hands and face burned he rested on the grass. But his rest was of short duration, for on looking up a sight met his eyes which filled his soul with horror. Mrs. Tucker's house was on fire and she herself seemed in the very heart of the flames. He almost flew to her, the courage of the lion and the quickness of Mercury seemed to come to him all at once, and he was by her side in an instant. Three times her bonnet caught, and as often was the blaze extinguished. Mrs. Tucker seemed deaf to all requests of her friends, who in vain entreated her to go away and leave her house and furniture to their fate. She still remained by the few things she had borne away, and it was after eight o'clock before she sought a place of safety. A sailor was working in the cellar of her house, passing the things he managed to lay hands on through the window. He was not aware of his danger, for when he had got in, the flames were a good distance off, and when he was discovered the house was on fire. In a few moments, it would come crushing down and bury him in the ruins. Mr. Munro hastened to his relief. Through his labours the man was rescued, for he had not been out a hundred seconds, when, in a mass of ruins, the house came tumbling down. The sailor, who gave his name as Robert Angus, 2nd officer of the ship "Asiana," sought with Mr. Munro a refuge in the square, for all hope of getting away by any of the streets was cut off. Both sides of Charlotte Street and Sydney Street were on fire, and from St. Andrew's Street all means of exit were away. The two men stood on the square and looked around them. Strange emotions filled their breasts. They were alone, standing in the centre of one of the greatest conflagrations they had ever seen. All round them the giant flames gathered, and closer and closer, and narrower and narrower the circle became. The Pagoda in their rear was blazing. The posts here and there burned at the tops, like so many huge candles. Not a soul was to be seen on the square but themselves. The streets were deserted. Every one had fled. The little nests of scattered effects burned on every side of them, and the stench from smouldering feathers and domestic animals who died by the score, was intolerable. Neither man for some minutes spoke. Both looked out into the night. One can guess what thoughts entered their heads. The advancing fire interrupted their reveries, and as they could not escape from the plain in which they were imprisoned, they looked about them for means of preservation from the intense heat, which became greater at every moment. An old pine table was brought up to the camping ground they had selected. A headstone of marble that was lying at their feet, was placed at the head of it, and a carpet was wrapped around them. In this primitive wigwam the men resolved to pass the night. The prospect before them was gloomy enough. Just before getting