to move. His friend decided
to take refuge on the prairies. "There we can keep up the race," he
said.

"I'm going where I can get water," said Dr. Lively: "it's the only thing
under heaven that this fire-fiend won't eat. There isn't a suburb but
may be burned. I'm going toward the lake." So he took possession of his
wife and boy and started for Lincoln Park. There were lights in all the
houses, and eager, swift-moving figures were seen through the doors and
windows: everywhere people were getting their things into the streets.
Shortly after, the flames, it was; noticed, were beginning to pale. A
weird kind of light began to creep over burning house, blazing street
and ruined wall. The day was dawning. With a kind of bewildered feeling
our friends watched the coming on of the strange, ghostly morning, and
saw the pale, sickly, shamefaced sun come up out of the lake. It was ten
o'clock before they reached the old cemetery south of Lincoln Park.
Hundreds had already arrived here with their belongings, representing
every article that pertains to modern civilization. Parties were
momently coming in with more loads. Here our friends halted. Mrs. Lively
dropped down in a fugitive rocking chair, thinking what a comfort it
would be to go off into a faint. But without a pillow or salts or
camphor it was a luxury in which she did not dare to indulge, though she
had a physician at hand. Right in front of her she noticed a besmutched,
red-eyed woman who had something familiar in her appearance. "Why, it's
myself!" she said to her husband, pointing to a large plate mirror;
leaning against an old headstone.

"Yes," said the doctor smiling, "we all look like sweeps."

Napoleon seated himself on a grave and opened his lunch-basket.

"Did anybody ever?" cried the mother. "This boy's brought his basket
through. There's nothing in all the world except something to eat that
he would have devoted himself to in this way."

"Nothing could have proved more opportune," said the father.

Then they ate their breakfast, sharing it with a little girl who was
crying for her father, and with a lady who was carrying a handsome dress
bonnet by the ribbons, and who in turn shared her portion with her
poodle dog. They offered a slice of cake to a sad old gentleman sitting
on an inverted pail with his hands clasped above a gold headed cane, and
his chin resting on them. He shook his head without speaking, and went
on gazing in a dreary, abstracted wa