and would surely give us shelter. "Take up the children again," I said,
"we must go at once." My wife persisted in carrying little Laurie, the
youngest; I took the other little girl, and the servants carried the
two boys. Thus we went through the pelting rain, the women with only
shawls wrapped round them; my wife in her dressing-gown and slippers. I
hastened on to the priest's house, and after a good deal of loud
knocking succeeded in rousing him. He expressed the greatest sympathy,
and invited us in. The rain had drenched us to the skin. I left Mrs.
Wilson in charge of the priest's housekeeper, and ran back for the
other children. If I did give way at all it was just now when, for the
moment, I was alone. I felt that all my hopes and prospects were
dashed; still I could pray, and God was not far off. I was comforted.
Man might fail me, but God would not. If anything, it was good to feel
every earthly prop give way, and to cling alone to the Mighty One.

On the road I met the servants with two of the children. The flames were
advancing on the barn; they had already seized on some out-buildings
which lay between, and a pile of cordwood. Archie, our eldest boy, of
four years old, was sitting under the fence, not crying, but a smile was
on him lips, his blue eyes gazing calmly on the flames, his sunny locks
wet with the falling rain. I took him up, and ran back with him to the
priest's house. "Naughty fire to burn down papa's house," he said.
"Papa, shall we go away in the big boat now our house is burnt?" Leaving
the little fellow safely with his mother, I returned quickly to see
after my Indian children. The Indians, had already taken some of them
away to their houses, and the rest I sent into an empty log house which
Shunk had occupied. Then I turned my attention to the church. The people
were standing round doing nothing. I saw the church was in imminent
danger; part of the bell-tower had caught, and the roof was smoking with
the heat. I called aloud to the Indians to bring wet blankets and put