preservation, and becoming, as it were, either giddy or fascinated,
often rush into the face of inevitable destruction: even the birds,
except these of very strong wing, seldom escape. Some, particularly the
partridge, become stupified; and the density of the smoke, the rapid
velocity of the flames, and the violence of the winds, effectually
prevent the flight of others."

It was from this mighty destruction that the forecast and admirable
presence of mind displayed by the lumberer, whose pathetic story I am
about to relate, saved him. I could not fail, while rejoicing in his
escape, to impute his self-possession to the compassion of the all-wise
Being who had made him such an instance of His mercy.

"The weather," said he, "had been unusually dry for the season, and
there had been no rain for upwards of three weeks before this calamity
took place. We had only just completed our shanty, and had commenced
felling timber ready for squaring, when it occurred. We had heard from
our teamsters, who had brought us out pork and flour, the day previous,
that fires were raging in the woods some miles to the eastward of us.
However, we paid but little attention to what appeared to us a common
occurrence.

"After supper, one of our men went out of the shanty, but immediately
returned to tell us 'that a dreadful conflagration was raging within a
mile or so of our dwelling.' We immediately rushed out to ascertain the
truth of his assertion. I shall never forget," he continued, "the sight
presented to our view: as far as the eye could reach we saw a wall of
fire higher than the tree-tops, and we heard the mighty sound of the
rushing flames mingled with the crashing fall of the timber.