The view was grand but terrible—sublime but cruel. I never before was so impressed with the idea of annihilation, as I was in viewing that rolling, rushing, leaping and devouring volume or field of fire. In other days I had witnessed miles of fire, impelled by a fierce wind rushing over a prairie covered with tall and dry grass; but it only stirred within me the emotions of beauty, grandeur, and sublimity; there was nothing in it of terror or desolation, nothing of the wrecking of brilliant prospects, nothing of blighted hopes, nor of gloomy disappointment intensifying into despair. Ever and anon, as the rushing waves of the Seattle fire would roll over and envelope a drug or other store where powder or other explosives were kept, a volume of flame would shoot upward, with a deafening roar, towards the clouds, as though claiming the storm-king as its kinsman.
To the owners of lots in the burned district the fire was a blessing in disguise. To them there was a smiling face behind a seemingly frowning Providence. Even if they were the owners of the frail wooden structure that had encumbered their lots, the structures added nothing to the value; and the rapid and unprecedented increase in the value of their holdings amply compensated for any losses by the fire. The real loosers were the renters of shops, stores or saloons, where goods, tools, materials and machinery were destroyed by the intense heat, or went up wholly in flames.
But a few families lived in the zone of the fire. As to them, many kind hands soon removed their household goods beyond the danger-line.
The district swept by the fire was the local habitation of the fallen angels, hoboes, and gamblers, and of that large class whose particular mode of subsistence is, and always has been, an unsolved mystery. The fallen angels and the upper class of gamblers could take care of themselves. The hoboes and the class of mysterious subsistence-men were afloat and hungry. Besides these, there were a large number of worthy and needy persons whom it is always a pleasure for the good to help; hence, a free-lunch house was opened in the Armory. There is always in a free-lunch a fascination that tends to increase the number of applicants therefor. This general law had no exception here. This led to a stringent examination of the right of all who appeared to partake of the generous bounty offered to the worthy and needy. This careful and necessary scrutiny soon led to a stoppage of the free-lunch business. The worthy in many cases needlessly took offense, and the baser order of fellows were loud in their denunciation of the alleged selfishness of the generous purveyors. The people of Tacoma promptly and nobly rushed to the assistance of Seattle, with provisions and personal services. The leading men of that city poured out their means lavishly and served as waiters at the tents erected for the feeding of the multitude.
Business soon revived with an enthusiastic rebound. The town was scorched, not killed. It had passed through an ordeal of fire and was found to be not wanting in true metal. Work was furnished for all desiring it. The hoboes departed, and with them most of the mysterious-subsistence men. The burned district has been rebuilt with stately blocks of brick, or stone, or steel and cement, and its streets and sidewalks have been paved with brick, stone or asphalt. Not a smell of fire nor sight of wooden structure remains in this once ash-covered and desolate district.
Game, Animals and Hunting
With something of a reputation of a hunter, I have often been requested by Eastern, as well as local sportsmen, to give an enumeration and description of the game and wild animals in this State and in Oregon. I shall confine myself exclusively to this State. I have heretofore written a description and given an enumeration of the game and other wild animals in both States, but I have neither the manuscript, nor the newspaper which printed it. In again attempting an enumeration and description, I shall add some of my personal experiences, as well as those of others.
There were no quail native to Washington or to Oregon, except the southern portion thereof—save the mountain quail, a lonely solitary bird, of about twice the size of the bob-white. Its habitat is the dense copse or thicket. I have never seen them in flocks or groups, save when the mother was raising her large family of young birds. When no longer needing the mother's care, they pair off, and the young birds, or family separate.