The Press., 1894-02-08

drive out, and we saw that the back of his little road wagon was full of some- thing done up in brown paper. Mother asked him where he was going and what he had in his buggy.
 "All that's left of the Fourth National bank" he replied, land Pm going to put it in the safe at the Hyde Park hotel"
 ''But suppose somebody should try to -" began my brother.
 Don't worry" interrupted he," "no- body would suspect brown paper bun- dle, and I've got this"-here he partly ] rose and lifting the cushion on the seat showed the glint of revolver:
 When he got back he told us that just as he had given up trying to force his way beyond Sixteenth street he had met Chauncey T. Bowen on foot with @ big bundle in his arms.
 "For heavens sake, take this bundle, J said Bowen, land put it where it'll be safe. Its all that's left of the Fourth Ma tional, and for all I know every cent there is left in Chicago. We got it out early this morning, and the fires been chasing it all day. Its been in four different safes already. Pm sick of the job."
 That night we all went to the lake shore. The shore curves like a string bow between Forty seventh and Randolph streets, and the distance is just six miles by the Illinois Central mile posts. Every body in the neighborhood was there, and we sat till long after midnight and watch ed Chicago burn. Every spectator had something at stake; not one but had property, or livelihood, or relatives, ol all at the mercy of the flames. More than once shivered with actual bodily terror lest the fire should jump and shriv. el me where I sat-full five miles away remember that when @ man said "Thank God for the lake; else that fire would burn up the world,"I thought he was fool not to know that it would jump sixty miles of water clear to the Michigan shore. remember that I was sick with the horror of the thing one minute and the next as full of admiration as 5-year. old over Fourth of July fireworks. suppose it was so, more or less, with every one on the shore that night. I re. member people crying and shouting and doing all sorts of extravagant things. But the fascination of that sight of a : century held us in an iron grip. Iremem. Der that I was finally taken home by force. And, by way of anti-climax, had nightmare that was no worse thar the reality, and fought fire and fled till broad daylight.
 Of course, 1 was crazy to go downtown Tuesday, and was broken-hearted because I couldn't. As compromise I was prom ised that if I would paint removed to- sign might plant it on the ruins of Full lerton Block. That sign was ready il short erder-board, standard, and letter ing. When I got downtown with it couldn't find my way at all, and fathe showed me where to plant my sign. H' said it was what was left of Fullerton Block. It was nothing but pile O bricks and just like 10000 others. Every brick and pile was stuck full of signs Some made me laugh and some made mt feel lumpy in the throat. One-I think it was Kerfoot's-read: "Nothing lef but wife, children, and energy" Tha sign made me feel like swinging my ha and hurrahing for Chicago.
 My modest sign, done in black on { smooth, unpainted board, was simply { notice of removal to No. 475 Wabasf avenue. This was the marble-front resi- dence of Marcus c. Stearns. MT. Stearn. moved out and let his house for offices, a. did most of the people living in that par of the city. Father had the big billiard room on the top floor, and it was consid cred powerfully fine office in those days although an old desk and half dozel law books did look trifie lonesome b, way of comparison with the old office ant it's well-filled bookcases. When fathe came to take stock he found that he hat that fellow lawyer in the building hat saved two of his books by mistake. I was nearly week before he got his saf out from under the debris. I was witt him when it was opened. It looked t' be in good condition, and father hoped , that the contents were uninjured.
 When the door was forced open, book and papers and all collapsed to ashes and gust of wind blew them out of tn, safe and down the street.
 These are the things of those days tha ! are most vivid in my memory. Recollec tion without number help to fill in detail and background. The flour barrel helt out bravely till we could get more. A individuals how comforted we were whel telegraph and mail brought us sympath, and offers of aid from relatives an' friends even thousands of miles away When the four barrel is in doubt tele , gram that says "Draw on me at sight" ] heap of comfort even if you don't reall have to draw.
 l After things cooled down a trifle use to go every Saturday and dig in the ruin 5 for relics. Once I found what I though r was handful of smoke-stained diamonds >-I rThor frrpod ont rYornotc Sill 1,,