Sunday, July 10th 1892
I did not think I would sleep as the fire came closer and
closer, consuming all in its path, but I must have dozed off finally because
suddenly it was sunrise, and Papa had found us! I flew into his arms, all cares
forgotten. His cloths smelled of smoke. He hugged me very close while Sarah and
Alfie rushed to join me. Papa held us as if we were all he had in the world. As
I soon discovered, that was close to the truth.
Everything is gone. Papa’s premises- the shop, the
workshops, the wharves- all of it, burnt to ash. Our house, Papa says, is no
more that a smoking pit in the ground, all our fine and beautiful things
consumed.
St John's Newfoundland 1892
All sales final
