The last letter from my friends in New Hampshire informed me that Obadiah was still pursuing his studies, with a view to the ministry.  This afforded me but little surprise, as I had often heard him make remarks which led me to think he had an inclination to that calling.

One sultry evening in August, I retired early to my own room, as I was suffering from a severe head-ache.  The usual remedies afforded me relief from pain; but I found myself unable to sleep.  As the hour grew late, my nervous restlessness so much increased that, abandoning the idea of rest, I rose and lighted my lamp.  I felt almost alarmed at my own agitation, which seemed so unaccountable, I seemed to feel the foreshadowing of some unusual event.  After a time, I closed my window, and was about to extinguish my lamp and again seek repose, when I was startled by the sudden ringing of fire-bells.  Hastily unclosing my window, I heard the sound of “Fire! fire!” echoed by many voices, and accompanied by the hasty tread of many feet upon the pavement.  I observed the appearance of fire a few streets distant, but was unable to make out its exact location.  I listened eagerly, hoping to gain from the many voices which reached my ears some account of the burning building.  Presently the words—­“Mr. Leighton’s house is burning!” reached my excited ears.  I saw that the fire was raging fearfully, as the adjacent streets were becoming lighter by the flames.  I was about to call my uncle, when I heard his step approaching.  A moment after he rapped at my door.  Just then Mrs. O’Flaherty rushed up the stairs, breathless with terror.

“May the Saints defend us!” she exclaimed, as she burst into my apartment; “but is the city on fire?  For wasn’t it the light o’ the flames shinin’ on me windy that waked me out o’ me sound slape.”

My uncle endeavoured to allay her terrors, telling her that the city was certainly not on fire, although there was a burning building in our near vicinity.  He soon declared his intention of visiting the scene of the fire.

I begged him to be careful and not expose himself to danger.

After my uncle left us, we stationed ourselves on the upper piazza, to watch the progress of the flames.  From the confusion of voices in the street below I caught the words,—­

“Poor Birdie Leighton is nowhere to be found, and it is feared she has perished in the flames.”

I shuddered as I listened to these words.  It was a terrible thought to me, that my once loved pupil had met with a death so dreadful.  But I was unwilling to give up the hope that she would yet be, if not already, saved.  We waited long in anxious suspense for the return of my uncle; but the day had begun to dawn before he came.  I feared to ask what I longed to know.  He must have read my anxiety in my countenance, for he soon said to me,—­

“The Leightons are now all safe in the house of a neighbor; but Birdie came near meeting her death in the flames.”