Lawrence. The river boiled with
the fierce heat and tossed its foaming waters, filled with its now
lifeless inhabitants, to the shore. The fire was fed by six thousand
square miles of primeval forest,--a dense growth of resinous
trees,--by houses and barns filled with crops, and by thriving towns
upon the river's bank.
Above all, the people could not put aside the horrible truth, that
hundreds of men, women, and children,--their friends and their
acquaintances,--were perishing by the all-consuming element. They
could not exclude from fancy, the agonized and dying shrieks of those
dear to them, and the demoniac light shone on countenances, expressing
emotions of pity, grief, horror, and despair.
While the missionary sat there waiting for the day, he recalled with
startling distinctness the wild dream he dreamed, on that first night
he spent at the Dubois House. Of course, his belief in foregleams of
future events was confirmed by the scenes transpiring around him.
Mrs. Dubois sat near him, her countenance expressing profound grief.
"The dear young man!" she said. "How sad and awful thus to die!"
"My dear madam", said Mr. Norton, "let us not mourn as those who have
no hope. Our beloved friend, brilliant and susceptible, aspiring and
tender, was illy fitted for the rude struggle of life. It is true he
might have fought his way through, girt with the armor of Christian
faith and prayer, as many others, like him, have done. But the fight
would have been a hard one.
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