When they arrived upon the premises a wild scene of confusion lighted up by a lurid glare of fire met their view.  The right wing of the mansion was on fire; the flames were pouring from the front windows at that end.  A crowd of frightened negroes were hurrying towards the building with water buckets; others were standing on ladders placed against the wall; others again were clinging about the eaves, or standing on the roof; and all these were engaged in passing buckets from hand to hand, or dashing water on the burning timbers; all poor ineffectual efforts to extinguish the fire, carried on amid shouts, cries, and halloos that only added to the horrible confusion.

A little further removed, the women and children of the family, heedless of the pouring rain, were clinging together under the old elm tree.  The master of the house was nowhere to be seen; nor did there appear to be any controlling head to direct the confused mob; or any system in their work.

“Professor, they have got no hose! they are trying to put the fire out with buckets of water! that only keeps it under a little; it will not put it out.  Let me run to your house and get the hose you wash windows and water trees with, and we can play it right through that window into the burning room,” said Ishmael breathlessly.  And without waiting for permission, he dashed away in the direction of Morris’ house.

“Where the deuce is the master?” inquired the professor, as he seized a full bucket of water from a man on the ground, and passed it up to the overseer, Grainger, who was stationed on the ladder.

“He went out to an oyster supper at Commodore Burghe’s, and he hasn’t got back yet,” answered the man, as he took the bucket and passed it to a negro on the roof.

“How the mischief did the fire break out?” inquired the professor, handing up another bucket.

“Nobody knows.  The mistress first found it out.  She was woke up a-smelling of smoke, and screeched out, and alarmed the house, and all run out here.  Be careful there, Jovial!  Don’t be afraid of singing your old wool nor breaking your old neck either! because if you did you’d only be saving the hangman and the devil trouble.  Go nearer to that window! dash the water full upon the flames!”

“Are all safe out of the house?” anxiously inquired the professor.

“Every soul!” was the satisfactory answer.

At this moment Ishmael came running up with the hose, exclaiming: 

“Here, professor! if you will take this end, I will run and put the sucker to the spout of the pump.”

“Good fellow, be off then!” answered Morris.

The hose was soon adjusted and played into the burning room.

At this moment there was a sudden outcry from the group of women and children, and the form of Mrs. Middleton was seen flying through the darkness towards the firemen.

“Oh, Grainger!” she cried, as soon as she had reached the spot, “oh, Grainger! the Burghe boys are still in the house.  I thought they had been out!  I thought I had seen them out but it was two negro boys I mistook in the dark for them!  I have just found out my mistake!  Oh, Grainger, they will perish!  What is to be done?”