sons, and fathers flung to their care.  The little ones, many of them, assailed and beaten; all,—­orphans and caretakers,—­exposed to every indignity and every danger, driven on to the street,—­the building was fired.  This had been attempted whilst the helpless children—­some of them scarce more than babies—­were still in their rooms; but this devilish consummation was prevented by the heroism of one man.  He, the Chief of the Fire Department, strove by voice and arm to stay the endeavor; and when, overcome by superior numbers, the brands had been lit and piled, with naked hands, and in the face of threatened death, he tore asunder the glowing embers, and trod them under foot.  Again the effort was made, and again failed through the determined and heroic opposition of this solitary soul.  Then, on the front steps, in the midst of these drunken and infuriate thousands, he stood up and besought them, if they cared nothing for themselves nor for these hapless orphans, that they would not bring lasting disgrace upon the city by destroying one of its noblest charities, which had for its object nothing but good.

He was answered on all sides by yells and execrations, and frenzied shrieks of “Down with the nagurs!” coupled with every oath and every curse that malignant hate of the blacks could devise, and drunken, Irish tongues could speak.  It had been decreed that this building was to be razed to the ground.  The house was fired in a thousand places, and in less than two hours the walls crashed in,—­a mass of smoking, blackened ruins; whilst the children wandered through the streets, a prey to beings who were wild beasts in everything save the superior ingenuity of man to agonize and torture his victims.

Frightful as the day had been, the night was yet more hideous; since to the horrors which were seen was added the greater horror of deeds which might be committed in the darkness; or, if they were seen, it was by the lurid glare of burning buildings,—­the red flames of which—­flung upon the stained and brutal faces, the torn and tattered garments, of men and women who danced and howled around the scene of ruin they had caused—­made the whole aspect of affairs seem more like a gathering of fiends rejoicing in Pandemonium than aught with which creatures of flesh and blood had to do.

Standing on some elevated point, looking over the great city, which presented, as usual, at night, a solemn and impressive show, the spectator was thrilled with a fearful admiration by the sights and sounds which gave to it a mysterious and awful interest.  A thousand fires streamed up against the sky, making darkness visible; and from all sides came a combination of noises such as might be heard from an asylum in which were gathered the madmen of the world.