"Hurrah! three cheers."

The 40th arrive; they form into line in front of the hotel, swords drawn.
"Hurrah! boys! no use waiting any longer."--"Down she comes." The bowling alley
is on fire.--Police try to extinguish the flames--rather too warm.--It's
too late.--The hotel is on fire at the back corner; nothing can save it.--"Hip,
hip hurrah!" is the universal shout.

I had opportunities enough to observe in London, that a characteristic
of the British race is to make fun of the calamity of fire, hence I did not
wonder, how they enjoyed this, their real sport on the occasion.

A gale of wind, which blowed at this exact time, announcing the hurricane
that soon followed, was the principal helper to the devouring of the building,
by blowing in the direction most favourable to the purpose.

The red-coats wheel about, and return to the Camp. Look out! the roof
of the back part of the hotel, falls in! "Hurrah! boys, here's the porter
and ale with the chill off."

Bottles are handed out burning hot--the necks of two bottles are knocked
together!--Contents drunk in colonial style.--Look out! the roof,
sides and all fall in!--An enormous mass of flame and smoke arises
with a roaring sound.--Sparks are carried far, far into the air,
and what was once the Eureka Hotel, is now a mass of burning embers!

The entire diggings, in a state of extreme excitement.--The diggers are lords
and masters of Ballaarat; and the prestige of the Camp is gone for ever.