The harbor of St. Johns is like a great bowl. The entrance is a narrow
passage between high, beetling cliffs rising on either side. From the
sea the city is hidden by hills flanked by the cliffs, and a vessel
must enter the narrow gateway and pass nearly through it before the
city of St. Johns is seen rising from the water's edge upon sloping
hill-sides on the opposite side of the harbor. It is one of the safest
as well as most picturesque harbors in the world.

As the _Albert_ approached the entrance Doctor Grenfell and the crew
were astonished to see clouds of smoke rising from within and
obscuring the sky. As they passed the cliffs waves of scorching air
met them.

The city was in flames. Much of it was already in ashes. Stark,
blackened chimneys rose where buildings had once stood. Flames were
still shooting upward from those as yet but partly consumed. Some of
the vessels anchored in the harbor were ablaze. Everything had been
destroyed or was still burning. The Colonial public buildings, the
fine churches, the great warehouses that had lined the wharves, even
the wharves themselves, were smouldering ruins, and scarcely a private
house remained. It was a scene of complete and terrible desolation.
The fire had even extended to the forests beyond the city, and for
weeks afterward continued to rage and carry destruction to quiet,
scattered homes of the country.

[Illustration: "THE LABRADOR 'LIVEYERE'"]

The cause or origin of the fire no one knew. It had come as a
devastating scourge. It had left the beautiful little city a mass of