“And there is one other good thing about it, Miss Brooks,” he continued. “General Hampton very sensibly ordered that no cotton be fired on the streets and so far there is not a flame in the city except the railway station a mile away from town.” So Helen went quietly back to Bessie’s bedside and told her what the Major had said, and the girl was glad that her first-born could be born in peace. The afternoon wore slowly on, and the night began to cover the city. Helen was sitting in the doorway and the four guards were near. Knowing the critical condition of her friend, she ventured again to remark as to the safety of the city. “I wish I was as sure of getting home safe as this house is to-night,” said one of the soldiers, whose face Helen could not like. Then, as they looked toward the northeastern part of the city, a blue rocket shot high into the air. A moment, and then a white one, followed by a red. Helen turned and looked at one of the guards, a gentlemanly fellow, whom she had heard the others call “Old Secesh.” “My God!” he exclaimed, “they are going to do it!” The other three men rose and went up stairs, taking lighted candles. “Madam,” said “Old Secesh,” “that signal you saw means that Columbia is to be fired immediately. If you want to save anything you had best do it. It is a hellish outrage, but the men want it, and they believe General Sherman won’t mind it. I will help you all I can.” Even as he spoke a bright light shot up in the northeast and down the streets Helen could see men lighting camphene balls and throwing them at houses. She arose quickly to go to Bessie’s bedside, and as she reached the landing Mrs. Liddell suddenly appeared, crying: “Fire, fire! The guards are setting fire to the lace curtains in their rooms!” “God save Sherman the record of this outrage!” said the guard, who had followed her. “Madam, may I help you take the sick lady out? There is no use in our trying to put the fire out—the city is doomed.” “What’s that, ‘Old Secesh?’ Can’t you keep your mouth shet once?” “Shame on you, men—you are not worthy of the blue!” But the men only laughed and stood on the steps while the fire burned above them. “If Thomas or Grant only commanded us, madam!” old Secesh said, “this black chapter would not be written this night.” So he helped Helen and Mrs. Corbin and Mrs. Liddell lift the fainting woman in a blanket from the burning house, and they bore her as gently as they might down the street. As they reached the gate, the flames burst from the windows of the house, and the street below was crowded with men and women and children. Everywhere balls saturated with turpentine were being hurled at the houses. As they went on they saw some firemen trying to put out the flames, but the soldiers, with their bayonets, punched holes in the hose and slashed it with sword and axe. [_To be continued._] HISTORY OF THE HALS CHAPTER XVII By John Trotwood Moore THE FOUR HUNDRED AT THE HORSE SHOW