Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1910-11-17
ITO BE Continued
SAVED FROM FIRE

last summer | was invited to stay at
the house Of Walter Kennedy, a man
with whom | had dealings. Kennedy
was a salt made man who by industry
had rendered himself and his family
very comfortable. His house stood on
the banks of Lake Michigan on a
bluff a dozen miles north of the city.
One evening after dinner we were
smoking on his piazza overlooking the
lake. Mrs. Kennedy sat with us, strok-
ing the hair of her little daughter. Be-
meath the waves were FLASHING.
by the bye. Kennedy" l said, "were
you in Chicago at the time of the great
fire."
"Well, yes" he said; then, after a
moments silence, 1T was the big burn
that gave mt my start"
looked eXpectant. but did not care
to ask for his confidence.
Everybody about here knows the
story he said presently, $50 I might
as well give it to you. In 1871, I re-
greet to confess. was little better than
a street arab. l lived from hand to
mouth on what l could pick up and
never had a cent over. Indeed, it new
er occurred to me to save anything out
OF my scant earnings. l remember
well the opening Of the great fire. It
was Sunday night and, though Octo-
Der. was very warm. 1 was playing
craps with some boys on the street
when the fire alarm sounded, but we
had had so many alarms for the past
month that we boys paid no attention
to it. Presently there was such a
great glare to the west that we stop
ped the game and went across the riv-
er to get Il nearer view. We found the
people over there moving out Of their
houses and the streets lined with fur
niture and bedding, on which were ly-
ing the little children.
Il roamed about, enjoying the nov
city of the situation, till 1 found N.Y.
self in the track Of the fire. I looked
about for a way out, and, seeing that
there was but one chance, down a
street running southwark, 1 started to
run for my life. The buildings I
passed were deserted, their owners
having realized their danger and got
away. Not Il human being was near
yes. one. Passing a mattress lying on
the sidewalk. heard a cry. Stopping,
| examined Il diminutive bundle on it
and unrolled a mite of a girl baby"
"She weighed twelve pounds" put
in Mrs. Kennedy. You weighed her a
few days after"
well then" continued her husband,
Il unrolled u twelve pound baby. The
most natural thing in the world to do
was to pick up the baby and take it
along with me. At any rate, this is
what l did There were flames in my
path, though more smoke than flame.
Covering the baby's face carefully, l
shot through it like an arrow. Now l
was safe. The fire was sweeping north
eastward.
"Well, here l was. near midnight on
the Sth of October, 1871, a boy of
twelve years. without a cent in my
pocket. suddenly become a father. l
went on southwark, where the people
in safety were standing in front of
their houses or on their roofs watch
ing the great glare and listening to
the boom of falling buildings. My bur
den was squalling. and a woman, tax
ing pity on me and it, brought out
from her house some milk in a bottle.
The baby drank it, and when / gave
the woman my story she had the lib
erality to give me the bottle, but not
the humanity to take us in.
"There was an clubhouse in the neigh
borhood where l had often slept, there
being a board loose, so that / could
crawl into a place where hay was kept.
1 took the baby to this place and laid
her on a soft bed. Fortunately l had
found her we'll wrapped in blankets. /
shall forget the companionable
feeling of cuddling up alongside the
little thing and going to sleep. In the
morning I was awakened by something
tugging at my hair, and there was the
baby laughing at me.
II took the bottle, went out and beg
ged some food of a woman and