April 15, 1845, Tuesday.

Jim was currying a horse, and humming to himself, outside the Brookville post office. He was daydreaming about his plans for Pittsburgh: he intended to go as soon as the timber rafters set out in a couple of weeks for the spring run.

Then the stage arrived. With terrible news.

'Burnt to a crisp!' the driver shouted.

'What is?' demanded John Dougherty.

'Pittsburgh! The whole place caught fire five days ago! It's in ruins!'

They gaped at the driver, who thrust a newspaper into Mr Dougherty's hands. They crowded around to read it.

Pittsburgh, April 14, 1845.

Gentlemen: The fire which has destroyed the best half of the city of Pittsburgh is one of the most extraordinary on record. I was a lodger at the Monongahela House at the time. The alarm had been given between twelve and one o'clock. Pittsburgh has been hitherto remarkably exempt from serious fires, owing to its peculiar position. After it was found that the fire was not arrested at once, fears began to prevail that it would reach Market street. I walked down the river along the sloping paved way of two hundred feet between the front warehouses and the steamboat landing.


… The wind blew a perfect gale, as it had done for two weeks, rising in the morning, increasing until noon, and then going down with the sun, while the atmosphere has been almost cloudless, yet cold and dry. The dust, the smoke, and heat were suffocating. The flames had reached half way to Market street, and the owners of warehouses, now fully sensible of their danger, were hurrying their goods along the open space along the river. I returned and passed along the square between Market and Wood streets, and thence along the square between Wood and Smithfield streets, to the Monongahela House. In the distance described, many were already emptying their warehouses by way of precaution, still thinking it scarcely possible that the fire could reach them. When in Smithfield street, which runs to the bridge, I discovered, in looking across the city, that the air was filled with flying pieces of wood in a state of combustion, for a piece of shingle as large as my hand, still blazing, fell at my feet, and was crushed out by me. I saw that such lighted torches falling at once upon a thousand houses, half a mile from what was still regarded as the scene of danger, must produce a conflagration that no human power could stop. It blew so violently that it was difficult to stand up; the wooden roofs were so dry that the least touch, as quick as a flash of powder, would create a blaze. About two o'clock the fire broke out in so many places, and its irresistible progress became so evident, that every man hurried to save what he could. I took my carpet-bag and hastened up Smithfield to the Allegheny river, struggling with difficulty against the wind and dust…


It was about three o'clock when I reached the second bank in Allegheny citv. At this time the whole part of the town destroyed was one sheet of fire. The cupola of the University burnt for a few moments like paper, and went down. The beautiful Monongahela House seemed to be the
centre of the conflagration. The bridge, three-fourths of a mile in length, it is said, was burned down in ten minutes. I do not think more than two hours elapsed after the fire was fairly under way before the destruction was complete; a destruction which, I verily believe, no human effort could have stayed. …Immense quantities of sugar, coffee, and other groceries were destroyed.
The people, however, escaped; few lives were lost; but every thing else except the clothes they wore. More than two thousand families, mostly in comfortable circumstances – for this was the wealthy and business part of the city – were deprived of their homes; very few being able even to save a change of linen. The wind began to lull about six, and by seven it was
all over.


In the course of little more than three hours, twelve thousand men, women, and children… saw themselves houseless and destitute. But they were not homeless, for their less unfortunate fellow-citizens, not immediate victims of the calamity, opened their houses to them, saying "You have lost everything; but come, we will share with you." The next morning I passed through the smoking ruins. So intense had been the heat that scarcely any appearance of wood was to be seen; even the ashes had disappeared. But for the smoke and recent appearances it might have been taken for the ruins of some ancient city long since destroyed. …

WM BRACKENRIDGE

'Oh, lord,' breathed Mr Dougherty. 'Those poor people!'

And so said every man, woman, and child in Brookville. As the news spread, people gathered in churches and meetinghouses and at the courthouse. Since they couldn't get to Pittsburgh to help, they gave what money they could, a few cents here, a dollar there. Businessmen like John Dougherty gave more. Father O'Neil was sent down to bring the money on the next stage.

'I heard from one of the drivers that it was a laundry fire that started it,' said Hannibal, as he, Jim, Dan and Cherry sat in Gallaghers' kitchen later.

'I heard Mr Dougherty say it was really bad for the businessmen,' added Jim. 'They had insurance, but the insurance companies went down in the fire. Nobody knows how much they will be able to pay.'

Dan threw in, 'Somebody up from Harrisburg told me the mayor of Pittsburgh, McCandless, sent an appeal to the legislature. They only voted 'em $50,000. Not near enough. The damage is millions. Oh, and they said they don't have to pay any taxes.'

'I'm sure ordinary people will be more charitable than those politicians in Harrisburg,' said Mrs Gallagher. 'Pittsburgh will rebuild, I'm sure of it.' She broke off. 'But, oh, Jim, what will you do now?'

Jim shrugged. 'The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, as the Book says. I'll just have to wait a bit longer to go to the big city. It's not like I've lost anything, like half of Pittsburgh has.'

'I'm just glad you didn't go last week, like you said you were goin' to,' said Cherry. And then, impulsively, she hugged Jim – who was too astonished to say anything.

Secretly, though, he thought that hug was worth waiting around in Brookville for.

Dmitri Gheorgheni