SAVING BABY FROM THE FIRE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIV, Issue 10419, 17 April 1897, Page 2 (Supplement)

SAVING BABY FROM THE FIRE.

HEROIC ACT OF A GIRL. Ralph Hart, hie wife, Florence, his twelve-year-old daughter, and little Ralph, the baby, live in a humble cottage in Klinepoint, near Bloomville, Jfew York. On February 22, at one o'clock, a hmp which had been left burning in a room where they were all asleep exploded, and when Mr. and Mrs. Hart and Florence sprang from their beds burning oil had spread over the floor, and the fire had caught the curtains, the bed clothing, and the woodwork. So imminent was their peril of death that the three rushed barefooted out into the enow, forgetting for the moment that the baby had been left behind in the blazing room, and that the flames wore already devouring the crib in which he lay. The mothor thought of him the moment she was outside the door, and turned to see if her husband had carried him out. He looked at her to see if she had the baby. "My God I" the woman cried. " Little Ralph is in there, burning to death 1" Hart sprang to the doorway. The hall was thick with smoke, and tongues of flame flashed toward him. The smoko stifled him, and he staggered back. Then they heard a cry irom the bedroom. Tho baby was calling. Aβ Hart was about to dash into the blazing hallway his wife cried-: " Stop her, Ralph 1 Catch ' Flo!' Don't lot her in I" He tried too late. The girl had dodged under his arm, and with one arm across her face ran into tbe smoke and fire, ntent only upon reaching her baby brother. Mrs. Hart would have ran after her, but her husband held her back. " They'll both be burned I" aho cried. " Let me go I" "Stay here!" he commanded; "I'll go after them."

Again he dashed at the doorway, his wife calling him to come back. As she watched in terror she saw him halt at the entrance, and, reaching in, drag Florence out with baby Ralph in her arms. The girl's nightdress was on fire. Her mothor clasped both children to her breast and smothered the fire with her hands. The girl had seized a blanket from tho crib where the baby lay and wrapped him in it, thus protecting him from flames and smoke. "Oh, mamma, I heard him scream," the girl said. " I could not leave him there after that."

The neighbours came, attracted by the blaze, and Hart, with their help, extinguished the fire before the walls and floors were very badly injured, They wrapped the little heroine and her brother in great coats and carried them to a neighbouring house in triumph. There they were put to bed to sleep in safoty. The girl's luxuriant hair was almost singed from her head. Her face and hands were scorched, and her bare feet were blistered by her perilous run over the hot coals. Her injuries are not serious, and the pain they gave her was allayed somewhat by the hearty praise bestowed upon her by all who beard the story. There is a wise head under the singed hair, and it has not been turned by deserved compliments. To ono who praised her Miss Florence said modestly: "Oh, well, mamma would have gone, only father held her back. He didn't see me. It's all right, uow we're all alive—and my hair will grow again, won't it?"