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Gephart. -gEAVEIt & GEPIIAItT, Attorneys-at-Law, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Alleghany Street. North of High Street JgIiUUKERIIOFF HOUSE, ALLEGHENY ST., BELLEFONTE, PA. C, G. McMILLEN, PROPRIETOR. Good Sample Room on First Floor. Free Buss to and from all trains. Special rates to witnesses and jurors. QUMMINS HOUSE, BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTE, PA., EMANUEL BROWN, PROPRIETOR House newly refitted and refurnished. Ev erything done to make guests comfortable. Itatesmodera-' tronage respectfully solici ted ly •JIIVIN HOUSE, (Most Central Hotel in the city.) CORNER OF MAIN AND JAY STREETS LOCK HAVEN,.PA. S.WOODS CALDWELL PROPRIETOR. Good sameDle rooms lor commercial Travel ers on first noor. R. A. BUMILLER, Editor. VOL. (50. REPEATING 118 ELF. But Instead of History It Was Romance. 'Close the shutters, Kitty. What a terrible night it is, to be sure. The rain is coming down in Hoods.' A barrack ground, stilt and ugly un der the most favorable circumstances, looking like a desert in the wind and rain, was just visible. 'Why, Aunt Bell,* said the girl,paus ing with one band on the shutter, 'here is a name scratched oil this pane of glass. I never noticed it till this min ute.' < 'What is the name ?' asked the old lady, half asleep by the fire. .' 'Kinloeh, Scots Greys, I*lo,' * read the young girl, 'and then 'Kitty' writ ten very badly just below.' 'Kinlock ! Kitty !' said Aunt Bell, starting up with sudden interest. 'Why, that must be the same man !' Then she sank back again, murmuring: 'Ah, Kitty, there was loye in those days, and romance, too.' 'ls there no loye now ?' said Kitty, coming to her aunt's side and kneeling down on the hearth lug. The ruddy llmies and glow irom the fire lit up the girl's chestnut hair, fair complexion, and bright hazel eyes. Aunt Bell gazed lovingly down at the piquant little face and said : 'Now and again we meet some of the right kind, but would you like to bear the story of that namesake of yours, Kitty ?' 'Very much.' 'Well, fifty years ago, as you know, I was a girl of sixteen, and was invited to spend the summer mouths with my aunt, who then had one of the fiqest houses in this county of Kildare. 'Several regiments were stationed at the camp and at a neighboring village, so you may imagine the girls of the party and I anticipated a gay time. Oh, those summer months ! I grow young again as I think of them ! The rides across the Curragh in the fresh morning air, when in parties of ten or fifteen we would gallop for miles on the stretches of breezy Lurf ; the hand some officers who played hide-and seek with us in the evening hours all oyer the big house, starting out of corners and chasing us breathlessly down the slippery oaken corridors. Then, tired out, we would stroll into the gardeo, and under the trees there would be songs, flirtations and whispered confi dences and promises made by the score and neyer fulfilled. What a mad mer ry time it was ! The merriest and handsomest of all was a young Scotch Lieutenant. Kinloeh Kinloeh. llis mother was Irish, aud had bequeathed him her beauty and propensity for jo king. 'And now for Kitty, the heroine. She was the daughter of a gardener who lived about a mile from my aunt's house, and ot all the distractingly pret ty girls that have made men do silly things lam sure Kilty was one of the prettiest. I can't do her justice ; but I can tell you she had the Irish blue eye; a complexion like mila, hair of the silkiest chestnut, curling in rings all over her brow, and a slender, up right figure, the envy of all our girls. One day, as a large party of us were talking under the trees, Kitty passed us with a basket of fi uit. Kinloeh for the first timo noticed the girl, and seemed struck dumb with amazement. He stood at a little distance, and kept bis eyes fixed on her. It was love from that very moment, and every one notic ed it. All the young men swarmed a bout the girl's lasket and began help ing themselves. She expostulated, but they put her off. Said one : ' 'Sure, Kitty, and you would like us to have the best. I'll be bouud.' 'Another said : 'Mahone, one kiss from that cheek with the flush of the peach upon it will save you from these rascally thieves, for I will fight them all for such a favor.' 'But Kitty would not be bribed, and seemed about to resign Herself to the lose of her fruit, when Kinloeh shoul dered his way into the group, and giv ing the last speaker a friendly push, cried: 'Leaye the girl alone, Grant, please.' Then he tumid to Kitty, say ing : 'lt is very heavy for your little arms, and there will come no one steal ing the fruit now, I'm thinking.* * 'Thank you,' said Kitty, gratefully, and walked along by hi 3 side. ' 'That is the first time I have seeu my lady allow any one to fetch and carry for her,' my brother said. ' 'There is no gainsaying Kinloeh. then, for he always gets his own way in what he wants, Harry,' I said. 4 'Especially when it has to do with pretty girls.' sneered Grant. ' 'Treason I' we all shouted in a breath. 'Kinloeh is the same to us all. T ' 'Of course ; hut are you not all pretty girls ?' said Grant. 'We laughed, and did not deny the soft impeachment ; and so the mo mentary breach was healed. That was MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 1)., 188(5. the (irst time we noticed Kitty coining up to our house with her fruit. We were quite sure nothing we could have said or done would have prevented her, but we were not quite so sure about Kinloeh, who, ever since that little ep isode, had wandered about like a dis tressed lover. One day we met Kitty in a lane, and 1 said to her : 4 4 llow is it you never come our way now V' 'The girl blushed. Father prefers to take up the things himself,' she murmured ; for which painfully ap parent lib we forgave her. 'The days passed on and Kinloeh, who had before been the life of our ex peditions, WAS now generally absent. Where he had been was evident, for we often caught a glimpse of chestnut hair shilling through the trees, or the old picturesque red shawl draped ovi r Kit ty's head and shoulders, her round, dimpled arm appearing just lelow. Kiuloch's regiment had been ordered away to another part of Ireland, and one morning, a few days beforo he was to go, we begged for his company to a picnic wo had arranged to have with oue or two other families. ' 'Thanks very much, but I'm afraid I shall be too busy.' he said. • 'Oh, but you must come ! Wo all eouuted upt n you,' we said. ' 'l3ut, I—l have so many things to do to-day.' 'Here he stopped and blushed. We girls were devoured with curiosity, and some of the men had a perceptible sneer on their faces. ' *IIe has got to say farewell to his lady-love,' suggested Philip Grant. 'Kinloeh turned on him with blazing eyes. We all kept back. They were like globes of tire. ' 'Confound it, sir, and suppose 1 have ! What is that to you ?' lie cried. 'We all stared at Philip ; be was very white, but he shrugged his shoulders and wisely foreboro to answer. Kin loch's temper calmed down as rapidly as it had risen. ' 'I am sorry to disoppoint you, girls, but I must beg to be excused,' he said gently ; and bowing, be walked off. •We watched his upright, manly figure striding along tilLhe disappeared, and then we all looked at each other and sighed. 4 'A clear case,' said oue girl. ' 'Head over heels.' ' 'What will he do ?' ' 'llow can he marry her ?' ' 'Kitty can take care of herself.' ' 'But I'm sure she is in love; she never has been before.' ' 'lie will go away and forget her.' ' 'He gave his bridle rein a shake. Said, Adieu forevcnnorc, my love, Adieu lorevermore.' ' 'Never! Nothing of the kind will happen. I'm sure be will marry her,' I said. 'That night Kinloeh made his way to the gaidener's cottage. Ilis face was pale, but be bad a determined look at the corners of His mouth, he carried his head well thrown back, and stepped lightly along. Tho girl had just set her father's supper before him, and had gone out to rest in the garden and en joy the still beauties of the night. The air was fresh and the full moon was hurrying through the star-spangled course. The reeds in the neighboring streams rustled and shivered in ttie Lreez 4 , and the night moths bumping against Kitty's white kerchief on their way to the fatal candle in the window. The girl's eyes filled with tears. ''Why do you weep, Kitty r" said a voice at her side. 'The girl buried her face in her hands and sobbed afresh. 4 'You are going away,' she said. ' 'Y'es, I am going away, but you will come with me, Kitty, for you love me,' said Kinloeh. ' 'Come back in ten years, Kinloeh. I will be true to you and wait till then. I will try and improve myself—make myself more worthy of your love.' ' 'Keep as you are, Kitty; remain unchanged,' said the young man, jeal ously, 'lest when I come back again I shall not see in you the last look that 1 iook away with me, my life, my love!' he murmured, passionately, and then kissed her sweet brow and mouth, and folding her in one last embrace he left her. 'As she went into the cottage a large moth sailed in before her, flew up into the alluring brightness of the candle and dropped dead on the table. ' 'Kitty, my girl,' said the old man, pointing significantly to the insect, 'don't be as silly as that thing. Its eyes were dazzled, and it had no strength to resist the fatal fascination.' ' 'Father, you may trust me,' said the girl, bending down ai.d kissing the gray hair. Here Aunt Bell stooped. 'ls it interesting ? Shall Igo on ?' 'Oh do ! Did he come back ?' said her niece. 'Well, the years passed on, and the girl was joked and teased and had many offers of marriage, but she was A PAPKU FOR THE HOME CIRCLE firm and would listen to none. At last tlie young fellows grew weary of their fruitless attempt at love-making, aud the greater part left her alone. A few, rnore'utikiiul, would ask when she ex pected her young gentleman home, and taunted her in cutting speeches and insinuations, Nine years went by, and there came the battle of Waterloo, when officers and men went down to gether in hundreds. Still no word from Kinloeh, and Kitty's heart, which had never failed in its lightness nor her step in its speed, now sank and falter ed for the first time. 'Early in tho next year—in fact, on New Year's night—tho officers gave a ball, and every girl and young man for miles around was invited. Girls were in great demand then, and I went down to my aunt's house especially for that night. 1 was anxious to see Kit ty myself and to find out how the years had passed ever Her head. You think, perhaps, twenty-six was rather old to be called a girl—do you, Kitty. Well, I felt almost as young as when I was sixteen.' 'Kate Daly—that was her name went to help the ladies unshawl them selves, and to be ready with needle and thread when the unhappy damsel with torn skirt or flounce should require her assistance. She was then twenty eight, and tho young, girlish beauty bad developed into the most lovely of women. Only when her face \va3 at rest, and you saw the suspicion of an anxious heart upon it, would you have guessed her age. She wore a pale, tea rose-linted gown, with ruffies of lace of her own making at the neck and sleeves. 'lt was a wild and stoimy night without, just such a one as this, but it only served to enhance the brightness and animation of tHe scene within. The dancing of the high-heeled shoes and the silvery laughter rose higher than the roar of tho wind, and the tinkling wine-cups drowneu all sound of rain. Suddenly there was a lull; we stopped dancing; a chill blast swept round us; we turned and saw a silent figure standing in the doorway. 'He was tall and handsome, but his large black cloak, carelessly thrown over His shoulder, was drippling with the rain and making large puddles on the floor. llis legs, booted and spurr ed, were mud up to the hips. Just at that moment the clock struck twelve, and the year 1810 had broken. Some of the nervous girls screamed and ran behind their part neis. Was it an apparition ? Was it an ill oman for the coming year ? ' 'I seem to frighten you, friends. Does nobody know me?' 'Kitty at that moment was bringing in a jug of iced claret at another door. She heard the voice aDd turned round trembling, with a wild cry. ' 'Kinloeh, Kinloeh, I knew you would come back !' And amidst a crash of breaking glass—for alio let the vessel slip from Her hands—she sprung to his side, aud disappeared in the folds of his great cloak.' 'llow splendid, Aunt Bell!' said her niece, drawing a deep breath; 'hut if she married him then I don't see why she should not have done so before.' 'All, but she was a wise girl; she knew it would test bis constancy, and prove if he really loved her. A young man's love at twenty-one —as she knew so well—would not be bis choice at thirty-one.' 'What become of them, aunt?' 'Oli, they married and traveled about a great deal, and finally both died out in India within a few months of each other. There was one son, and I be lieve be is in the army, also. Come, Kitty, I shall go to bed, and not wait any longer for your father.' 'There is a new Lieutenant coming in Mr. Perry's place,' said her niece, as she bade het good night. 'The young men are not what they used to be,' sighed the old lady. 'Some little whipper-snapper, I'll be bound, with feet that would fit in your slip pers. Good-night, chlldie!' Kitty went down-stairs and ponder ed over the story of the beautiful Kate Daly and faithful Kinloeh. She went to the window and undid the shutter. She pictured to herself the young man as he came to the window and scratch ed his name on the glass, and then, taking the girl's hand in his, slowly guiding it just below. She leaned in the shadow of the window seat and tried to realize each scene in the little drama. There, ur.der that very door, stood the tall, black gobed figuie they had all shrunk away from in the midst of their mirth. What! was she dreaming? What stood there at that moment? A figure darker than the gloom of the room. The rain poured in rivers outside, the wind whistled round the house. The figure came farther into the room. She saw by the misty light that he was a tall man with a dark cloak oyer his shoulders, booted and spurred, with mud up to his hips. She felt as if the whole scone was to be played over again, but she looked in vain for the pretty girls wiili their puffed sleeves and short waists, their (lowing curies and high-heeled shoes. Kilty, where was she? And hero alio blushed to her self m the darkness. There was a Kit ty, but not that one. The man came up to the window, evidently thinking no one was in the room ; the girl shrank back as the wet cloak brushed against her cheek. 'Kinloeh !' she said, half doubting whether the figure would answer, for she could hardly tell yet whether she was dreaming or no. 'Who spoke my name ?' tie called out, glancing round. 'I did,' said Kitty,feeling very abash ed, almost at his elbow. lie glanced down, drawing away bis wet cloak. 'I am sure I beg your pardon; I thought the room was empty. I must have come into the wrong quarters. Arriving so late I must have mistaken the block. I hope you will forgive such an intrusion.' Kitty's castles in the air all fell to the ground with a crash. llow com monplace. lie was only the new Lieu tenant after all ; but he did not appear the whipper- snapper her aunt bad prophesied. 'Then you are not Kinloeh ?' she said, in a disappointed tone. 'My name is Kinloeh,' he answered, with a pleasant smile. 'My aunt was telling me about this Kinloeh,' and Kitty tapped the frame with her finger. 'I will tell you the story some day if you like ; but you came into the room just as she said your namesake did, dressed in the same way and every thing. But here ! I suppose you are not even a relation ?' 'lie was my father,' said the young man, qu'etly ; 'so no wonder we are something alike.' It was now bis turn to siy, in a disappointed tone : 'But your name is not Kitty, I'm sure.' 'Yes, it is,' she said, eageny, then paused; a sudden rosy flush rushed over her face. 'At least, no—it is ' But she could not deny it for it was Kitty. 'These are our namesakes ; shall we write ours below them, Jvitty ?' 'Some day, perhaps.' NIAGARA FALLS. An Apred Couple "Who Don't "Know Whether They Have Seen Them or Not. There was an old couple at the Third street depot the other day who had been to Niagara Falls and were waiting for a train to their home in tho interior of the State. They just felt that they had accomplished a big thing, and were consequently quite elated. They had scarcely taken seats in the waiting-room before the old man turned to a stranger and said .• 'We've jist got back from Niagry Falls. Powerful sight, them falls are. Hiu't nuthin' like them fulls in this hull country.' 'Never heard of 'em,' gruffly replied the man. 'You didn't! Lor' bless me. but that's astonishing! Neve heard of Niagry Falls!' 'Never. What is it anyhow ?' 'Why, it's the biggest lot of water you ever saw, falling over the awful lest precipice you ever heard of. Why, it makes folks shiver tojook at it.' 'Singular that none of the papers have ever mentioned it.' 'They haven't ? Why them fails has bin there for thousands of years.' 'Wasn't it a freshet or a dam broke loose, or something of that sort V 'No, siree! That water keeps a pouring and roaring and humming all the time.' 'Must have been some trick about it,' carelessly observed the cynic. 'lf it was a real thing there'd be some excitement about it. \ou don't drink V 'Me drink ? I've never drunk a drop in my life !' .'Well, it's to bad. Any one who will swindle an old man like you ought to be horsewhipped.' 'Swindled ? I)o you purtend there hain't no Niagry Falls?' 'Never heard of any such thing,' replied the man, as he got up and left. 'Say, Manner;' replied the old man, as he turned to his wife after awhile, 'did you hear that V 'Every word.' 'Say, when we git home we'll keep mum until I see Stebbins and feel around and see if there is a Niagry Falls. If we've bin fooled we don't want to be laded at ; if it's all right we kin do our blowing when it's safe aud will count. Don't say Goat Is land nor Hore'-shoe Falls nor Bridal Vail to no livin' soul until we find out whether that ginger ale flew to our heads, or the show was all right and wuth the money.'— Detroit Free Fress. Terms, SI.OO per Year, in Advance. A WRECKED CITY. Havoc of the Earthquake at Charleston, S. C. Groat Loss of Lifo—The Destruction to Property Roughly Estimated at $5,000,000. CHARLESTON, S. C., Sept. I.—There was :i terrible earthquake here last night at t £0 o'clock. The principal business portion of the city was destroy ed and hundreds of persons were ren dered homeless. Men were frantic,wo men were beseeching tnercy from the Almighty and children were in tears. THE SCENE TIIUILLINGLY DESCUIKED. The following article was prepared for publication in the "News" and "Courier," and is telegraphed almost in the writer's own words : Necessarily the description that can be given of the disaster which has be fallen our city consists in the narration of the experiences and observations of individuals, and, the subject beinir the same and the experiences of all being nearly alike, the story told by one care ful observer may well stand for a hun dred others, with slight variations. Probably the best idea that can be had of the character of the disturbance here may be obtained from a narration of the events and scenes of Tuesday night as they were presented to a single per son. When engaged in his usual duties in the second story room of the "News and Courier" otlice at the time of the first shock the writer's attention was vaguely attracted by a sound which seemed to come from the office below, and which was supposed for a moment to be caused by the rapid rolling of a heavy body, as an iron safe or a heavily laden truck, oyer the floor. Accompa nying the sound there was a percepti ble tremor of the building, not more marked, however,than would be caused by the passage of a street car or a dray along the street. For perhaps two or three seconds the occurrence excited no surprise or comment. Then by swift degrees, or perhaps all at once, it is dif ficult to say which, trie sound deepened in volume, the tremor became more de cided, the ear caught the rattle of win dow-sashes,gas-fixturas and other loose objects. The men iu the ofiice, with perhaps a simultaneous flash of recol lections of the disturbance of the Fri day before, glanced liurridly at each other,sprang to their feet, with startled questions and answers. What is that? Earthquake ? And then all was be wilderment and confusion. Then the long roll deepened and spread into an awful roar that seemed to pervade at once the troubled earth and the still air above and around. The tremor was a rude, rapid quiver that agitated the whole lofty, strong-walled building as though it were being shaken by the band cf an immeasurable power with intent to tear its joints asunder and scatter its stones and bricks abroad as a tree casts its over-ripened fruit before the breath of the gale. There was no intermission in the vi bration of the mighty subterranean en gine. From the first to the last it was a continuous jar, only adding force at every moment, and as it approached and reached the climax of its manifes tation it seemed for a few terrible sec onds that no work of human bands could possibly survive the shocks. The floors were heaving under toot, the sur rounding walls and partitions visibly swayed to and fro, the crash of falling masses of stone and brick and mortar was heard overhead, and without the terrible roar filled the cars and seemed to fill the mind and heart, dazing per ception, bewildering thought, and for a few panting breaths, or while you held your breath in dreadful anticipation of immediate and cruel death, you telt that life was already past, and waited for the end as the victim, with his bead on the block, awaits the fall of the up lifted ax. It is not giyen to many men to look in the face of the destroyer and yet live; but it is little to say that the group of strong men who shared the experience above faintly described will carry with them the recollection of that supreme moment to their dying day. None ex pected to escape. A sudden rush was simultaneously made to endeavor to at tain the open air and tlee to a place of safety; but before the door was reached all reeled together to the tottering wall and stopped,feeling that hope was vain, that it was only a question of death within the building or without, to be buried by the sinking roof or crushed by the toppling walls. The uproar slow'y died away in seeming distance. The earth was still, and oh! the blessed relief of that stillness ; but how rudely that silence was broken. As we dash ed down the stairway and out into the street, already on every side arose the shrieks, the cries of pain and fear, the prayers, wailings of terrified women and children mingled with the hoarse shouts of excited men. Out in the street the air was filled to the height of the houses with a whitish cloud of dry, stifling dust from the lime and moitar and shattered masonry which, falling upon the pavement and stone roadway, had been reduced to powder. Through i his cloud, dense as d fog, the gaslights NO. 35- ■ NEWSPAPER UWB If subscribers order flip IH*oiitimujhion newspapers* the publishers iiiiiy mitiulAo semi iliem until nil arrearage:* are paid. If subsertbers lefir e i;r nevleet lotakenielr newspapeis from I lie oilier to \i inch liny are sent I hey are helil responsible until tin y have settled llie bills and *rlert d tlieni discot>titued. If subscribers move toother places wlllioi t in forming the puWbdier, and the netvsjwrprreare sent to t In- former place, tliey are n s|unt.-il^e. ADVERTIBINO HATES. 11 wk. t urn. I a nios. 6 iuo*. 1 yea 1 square I*2 00 ♦ t O. Transient advert liseinents and locals 10 cents tier line for fiist Insertion and 5 cents per line for each tuldltion al Insertion ft r. flickered dimly,shedding but little light so that you stumbled at every step over piles of brick or became entangled in the lines of telegraph wiies /hat depend ed in every direction from .their broken supports. On every side were hurrying forms of men and women, barelteaded, partially dressed—some almost nude— and many of whom were crazed with fear or excitement. Here a woman is supported, half fainting, in the arms of her husband, who vainly tries to soothe her, while he carries her into th# open space at the street corner,where prctienf. safety seems assured ; there a woman lies on tne pavement with upturned face and outstretched limbs, and the crowd passes her by for not pausing to see whether she be aliye or dead. A sudden light Hares tbrotr&h a win dow overlooking the street; it becomes momentarily brighter 4 } and the cry of "Fire !" resounds from tlie multitude. A rush is made toward the spot. A man is seen doubled up and helpless against tne wall, but at this moment, somewhere out at sea, overhead, deep in the grcund, is heard again the low, ominous roll which is already too well known to be mistaken. It grows loud er and nearer, like the growl of a wild beast swiftly approaching his prey,* and all is forgotten again in the frenzied rush for the open space where alone there is hope of security, faint thpugh it be. Tiie tall buildings on either hand blot out the skies and the stars, and seem to overhang every foot of ground between them. The shattered cornice c* at the {.;•< -.f their frown ing walls seem piled from both sides to the centre of the street. It seems that a touch would now send the shattered masses left standing down upon the people below, who look up to them and shrink together as the tremor of the earthquake again "passes under them, and the mysterious reverberations swell and roll along like some infernal drum beat summoning them to die, *ud it passes away, and again is expel ieitecd the blessed fceiiug of deliverance from impending calamity, which it may well be believed will provoke a mnte but earnest offering of mingled prayer and thanksgiving from every heart in the throng. Again, far along the street and up from the alleys that lead into it on either side is heard that chorus of wail ing and lamentation which, though it had not ceased, was scarcely noticed a moment before. It is a dreadful sound, the sound of helpless, horror-stricken humanity, old and young, the strong and the feeble alike, where ad are so feeble, calling for help from their fellow creatures and raising their anguished voices in petition to Heaven for mercy, where no human aid could avail. It is not a scene to be described byany mor tal tongue or pen. It is not a scene to be forgotten when the witness has shar ed all its dangers and felt all its agony. The first shock occurred at seven minutes of 10, as was indicated this morning by the public clocks,the hands on all of which had stopped at that fateful hour, as though to mark the end of time for so many who had heard the preceding hour pealed forth by St. Michael's chimes without a thought but of long and happy life. The second shock, which was but a faint,crisp'echo of the first,was felt eight minutes later. As it passed away the writer started homeward, to find the scenes enacted on Broad street, around the "News and Courier" office, repeated .at every step of tne way. St. Michael's steeple towered high and white above the gloom, seemingly uniujured. The station-house, a massive brick building across the street, had apparently lost its roof which had fallen around it. A little further on theToof of a portion of the Iliternian Hall, a handsome build ing in the Grecian style, had crushed to the ground, carrying down part of the massive granite pillars with it. All the way up Meetipg street, which in re spect of its general directiou and im portance may be called "The Broadway of Charleston," the roadway was piled with debris from the tops of the walls. In passing the Charleston Hotel, which, to carry out the comparison a bove indicated, occupies the position of Stewart's up-towu store iu New York, the third shock was felt about ten min utes after the second, and, of course, caused the greatest alarm in that neigh borhood as elsewhere. At Marion Square, corresponding exactly with Union Square, New York,a great crowd had collected, as even the edges of the wide spaces embraced in it could not be reached by the nearest buildings in the event of their fall. From this crowd, composed of men, women and children of both races, arose incessant calls and cries of lamentation, while oyer the motlev half-dressed throng was seen the lurid light of the conflagration which had broken out just beyond the square immediately after the first shock and had nearly enveloped several build ings in flames. In three other quarters of the town at the same time similar large fites were observed under full headway, and the awful significant*; cf the earthquake may most fully be ap preciated, perhaps, when it is said that with these tremendous fires blazing up (Continued on Fourth pa