ho had come over to witness the melting away of the South Side
business-palaces. If the bridges were burned, there remained but one
avenue by which they could reach their homes. There were cries of "The
tunnel! the tunnel!" a panic and a grand rush, in which everybody was
borne westward toward Washington street tunnel. Dr. Lively found himself
forced into the tunnel. It was crowded with two streams of
wildly-excited people moving in opposite directions. One was rushing to
the rescue of property on the South Side or to see the fire--the other,
to get away from it. Most of these latter were carrying articles of
furniture and bales of goods, or they were wheeling loaded barrows.
Everybody was crowding and pushing. Our doctor had made his way through
about one-third of the tunnel when suddenly every light went out. The
great gasometer of the South Side gas-works had exploded. He was under
the river, in the bowels of the earth, in the midst of that wild crowd
of humanity, and in utter darkness. "There will be a panic," he thought:
"all the weak will be overrun and trampled to death. God help them and
help us all!" Then there came to him a flash of inspiration: "Keep to
the right!" he shouted, "to the right!" "Keep to the right!" repeated an
abetting voice. "To the right!" "Keep to the right!" "Right! right!" The
blessed words ran along from one end of the dark way to the other. Then
a hush seemed to fall on the lips as though the hearts were at prayer,
and the two streams moved along like processions through the dark valley
of the shadow of death.

Facing about, Dr. Lively squeezed his way through a dense throng on
North Water street bridge till he gained the North Division. Here he sat
down on the steps of a warehouse to take breath, and looked back on the
scene he had left. The fire had reached the river, which reflected the
lurid horror above, and seemed a stream of molten metal, or a current of
glowing lava poured from some wide rent in the earth. Struggling human
creatures in the blazing, hissing, sputtering waters realized Dante's
imaginings of tortured, writhing souls on the red floor of hell.

Tired and faint, Dr. Lively pressed on to the north. He was not long in
learning that the fire was already raging in the doomed North Division,
and that the waterworks were disabled. Reaching the house of his friend,
where his family had taken refuge, he found them all informed of the
peril to the North Side, and getting ready