The Great Fire in Chicago.
The following description of the fire in Chicago, as viewed from the top of Tremont House, is so vivid and real that we think all our readers will thank us for its publication. It is from the Detroit Post of 13th inst.: A GRAPHIC ACCOUNT—THE SCENE FROM THE TREMONT HOUSE.
Mr. Abell Palmer, cousin of Potter Palmer, the Chicago millionaire, gives the following account of scenes in connection with the fire. He was with a party at the Tremont House on Saturday, and with reference to what occurred that night and the following day, says: Everybody in the Tremont House was up all night, fearful of what might happen. All day Sunday the excitement continued, but it was not until night that the worst came. From the roof of our hotel we LOOKED OVER THE DOOMED CITY.
A strong wind was blowing at that time, and yet the flames seemed to go in all directions, like an expanding scythe mowing great and increasing swaths with frightful rapidity. We could think of nothing else but hell. The flames were in some places like huge waves, dashing to and fro, leaping up and down, turning and twisting, and pouring—now and then a great column of smoke and blaze hundreds of feet into the air, like a solid perpendicular shaft of molten metal. In other places it would dart out long streaks, like mammoth anacondas, with hissing, fiery tongues; then these serpentine shapes would swoop down over the blazing path into the yet unburned buildings, which seemed pierced and kindled instantaneously. There were also billows of flame that rolled along like water, submerging everything in their course. Now and then, as some explosive material was consumed, the place would seem like the crater of a vast volcano, puffs of smoke amid flashes of light and millions of sparks and cinders being scattered in all directions. Sometimes the air would be full of them, and gusts of wind would float them like flocks of fire-birds hither and thither. Occasionally there were cinders of more than two feet in length. Showers of these were falling—actually raining down everywhere. Our faces were stung, and our clothing now and then set on fire, until we got wet umbrellas and held as shields over us. There was a terrible fascination in gazing upon the scene. IT WAS UNEARTHLY, HIDEOUS, TERRIFIC.
Our eyes seemed riveted so that we could not withdraw them. There were miles of fire, mountains of flame, waves of light, flashes, clouds, brilliant scintillations. With the aid of glasses we could see the streets thronged with people flying for their lives. Children were carried, screaming with terror, women were shrieking, men were shouting, and all running. We saw some old and sick and helpless carried on stretchers, some apparently demented or stupefied were dragged along. Close to their heels, in hot pursuit, came the belching, roaring, and crackling flames. In some places they actually advanced as fast as men could run. The most awful of all was the thunderous roar that seemed to roll upward and outward from the center of the huge holocaust. Now there would be a report like the boom of distant guns, again came a snapping like the rattle of musketry. Horses rushed like marauders through the streets. One splendid team attached to a coach ran over the Van Buren bridge, which had been charred and weakened. Just as the mad horses had passed the center it gave way, and they plunged down through the lurid glare into the scarlet river below. There were all sorts of scenes happening—some horrible, others ridiculous. Here and there, when some tall building became sheeted in flame, the walls would weaken and waver like india rubber. It was wonderful sometimes how they swayed—almost across the street—and then fell with a loud crash; then a momentary darkness, and afterward fresh glares of light from some newly kindled fire. Even those streets that were paved with the wooden pavements were The massive granite slabs were cracked into thousands of pieces. All this time the heat was very great. By and by it grew so intense that no one could stand within blocks of the place. Over the roofs came gusts of hot air, sometimes strong enough to throw one off his feet. Our shoes were parched, the tin roof was hot, and we were forced down below. The greatest sight was to notice how the flames seemed to engulf the larger and more lofty Mansard roofs. They went like paper. The hotel was crowded. All were excited and fearful. Every moment the report came that the fire was nearing us, and finally we knew that we could not remain longer. Escape was the only thought. At midnight the flaming heat crossed the Adams street bridge. All the shipping that had not been removed was consumed. The tar and other inflammable stuff made an intense light, and the heat can be imagined from the clouds of steam that came up from the river. The kerosene oil stores made an awful yet sublime spectacle, as the flames seemed to penetrate the very clouds. The huge iron reservoir at the gas works exploded with tremendous force and sound, demolishing several adjacent buildings. EVERYBODY SEEMED DEMORALIZED.
The very earth seemed actually gaping out fire, flame, and smoke, as though the world itself was to be swallowed up in the conflagration. The rush from the Tremont House, when the word was given, was akin to a panic. The stairways were choked, and as the smoke from the approaching fire came in puffs through the windows, the situation seemed frightful. In three cases persons jumped from the windows, and two children were tied up in beds and thrown from the fourth story window, and landed on the pavement uninjured. A Mr. Jarvis had a broken leg from springing from the second story window, and others were bruised from the same cause. We secured a stage and drove toward the suburbs, hoping to get away on some extra train. The horses were almost ungovernable from fright. Some of the blocks were impassable, being filled with ruins. Finally we reached a train that was just being dispatched direct for help, and by the kindness of the conductor we were taken along. We heard of several deaths and many being SWALLOWED UP IN THE FLAMES.
Certainly there must have been great loss of life. One fireman declares that three families were surrounded and burned to death in the block bounded by Adams, Jackson, Canal, and Water streets. We saw groups of all classes of people in the streets, some hatless, coatless, barefoot, and shivering. Some of these were of the wealthier class. They were shelterless, homeless, poverty-stricken and broken-hearted. The agony of the mind in some cases, where relatives were searching hopelessly for missing ones, was pitiable to witness. No one said anything. There was no chance. We threw our trunks into the street, but there we had to leave them.