WESTERN SIDE OF CITY, TAKEN FROM LOWER COVE, SHOWING RUINS OF GAS WORKS.
Photo. by Simonson.
Leinster Street was burned wholly, both sides down to Pitt Street where the fire ceased, excepting one house, on either side which were spared. The whole of East King Street, south side, from the jail to Pitt Street, Princess Street both sides to Pitt Street were all destroyed. Mr. J. S. Turner's walls in Princess Street remain in fair condition, but the house is totally gutted. Orange Street fared the same fate. The handsome residences of A. C. Smith, H. D. Troop, J. A. Venning and J. W. Hall, Esqs., were devoured early by the
flames. On Sydney Street two churches suffered severely. Both of these were of the Presbyterian faith, St. David's (Free) and the Reformed Presbyterian Kirk. The former situate in Sydney Street, was built in 1850, and Rev. Dr. Thompson, afterwards an eminent divine of New York, was its first pastor, and preached the opening sermon in the new kirk. Before the kirk was erected, this body worshipped in the old St. Stephen building, King Square, and Dr. Thompson preached there when the congregation gathered. The Rev. Wm. Ferrie, at one time editor of a little journal called The Protestant, was the second minister, and on his retirement from his charge, he was succeeded by the Rev. Neil McKay, and Mr. Ferrie went to New York. Mr. McKay was followed by the present pastor, the Rev. Dr. David Waters, whose loss in the fire was very large, the greater part of his library having been burned. The Doctor was away at the time in Halifax, and only reached the city when all was lost.
The Rev. A. McL. Stavely is the senior Presbyterian clergyman of St. John. He came to the city in the ship Eagle, August 3rd, 1841, having been ordained minister at Kilbrought, Ireland, June 12th, of the same year. On the 7th of August, 1841, he preached his first sermon in the first Reformed Presbyterian Church which was then in the building in Lower Cove, opposite the Public Schools, known as the Wheeler property. He was the first minister of that denomination who came to the city, and has continued ever since in charge of this body. In 1850, the Lower Cove Church was sold, and has been since used for
manufacturing purposes. The church on the corner of Princess and Sydney Streets, and which was burned, was erected in 1850. The house adjoining and which was originally intended as a parsonage, was purchased by Mr. Stavely, as his private house, and he has been living in it for twenty-seven years. In 1870, at a cost of $2,000, the basement of the church was excavated, and a fine new hall for general purposes was made. By the fire Mr. Stavely loses heavily, and his library, the accumulation of many years, was destroyed.
Probably, the greatest wreck of the day was the destruction of the costly and splendid new Victoria School—a building which presented a massive front, and occupied a commanding position on the corner of Duke and Sydney Streets. This was the edifice which many who lived up the street as far as Carmarthen Street firmly believed would act as a barrier to the flames, and keep off the fire from their houses. Some so implicitly believed this that until the high walls fairly bent over, not an effort was made to remove even a picture from the rooms. O, said the householders on Upper Duke street, that immense pile will never burn; we are safe enough. But the proud edifice where a thousand children received daily a free education, did burn, and the sight though terrible, was one of the most impressive of the day. Now there was hurrying and packing in three score houses at once, and loud cries to teamsters and shrieks to servants and porters rent the air. Those, who talked the loudest before the school was in ashes, exhibited the greatest despair when they saw
what they believed up to this moment to be their surest safeguard, encircled in the fury of the flames, going down before their eyes. First the wood-work around the sashes gave way, and lights shot from half a hundred windows, and the crash of glass as it was hurled to the pavement showed that the great fire had abated not a jot. The hot slates on the roof came down the giddy height in scores, and one man pinned to the earth by a falling slate was carried away insensible of pain but with a two-inch wound upon his scalp. The flames crackled for a while and then the dull, heavy sound of weighty bodies falling inside sent a shudder through the waiting, watching crowd below. The woodwork snapped and sang in the blaze, and the great stones on the windows and cornices crumbled into fragments. And still the watchful and waiting crowd stood in the street, straining their eyes trying to look through the smoke, and seemingly unable to comprehend it all. It was only a building that was burning after all. Only another splendid edifice to add to the total of this day's fell work. Yes, this was the last, surely it might be spared. But the despoiler would not leave one. All, all must be swept away in the general scourge.
As the last vestige of the school-house went down all hope for the city passed away from men's minds. If that strong building could go so easily, where would the fire end. Men who had lost their stores and houses wandered about aimlessly, surveying the work of sorrow that was
going on so unceasingly and relentlessly. It was a hopeless thing now to try to save anything.