"The whole town is in flames!" cried Fred.

"Not it," said the barge-master; "it's ten to one nothing but a
rubbish-heap burning, or the moors on fire beyond the town."

Mr. Rowe rather snubbed Fred, but I think he was curious about the
matter. The driver urged his horse, and the good barge _Betsy_ swung
along at a pace to which she was little accustomed.

When we came by the cricket-field Mr. Rowe himself said--"It's in the
middle of the town."

Through the deafening noise of the bells I contrived to shout in his
ear a request that I might be put ashore, as we were now about on a
level with my home. Mr. Rowe ran a plank quickly out and landed me,
without time for adieux.

I hastened up to the town. The first street I got into was empty, but
it seemed to vibrate to S. Philip's peal. And after that I pushed my
way through people, hurrying as I was hurrying, and the nearer I got
to home the thicker grew the crowd and the ruddier became the glow.
And now, in spite of the bells, I caught other noises. The roar of
irresistible fire,--which has a strange likeness to the roar of
irresistible water,--the loud crackling of the burning wood, and the
moving and talking of the crowd, which was so dense that I could
hardly get forward.

I contrived to squeeze myself along, however, and as I turned into our
street I felt the warmth of the fire, and when I looked at my old home
it was a mass of flames.