THE CHICAGO FIREMAN.

Wanganui Herald, Volume V, Issue 1428, 25 March 1872, Page 3

THE CHICAGO FIREMAN.

I guess you won't know what a fire is quite, Till you squat in this claim of ours, Where a man on his feet may ba out of sight In the grass and the prairie flowers. You may ponder and guess till fishes squeal, And think me a queer old cuss. But you can't just wind off memory's reel A fire till you's lived with us. I was boss—but what is the use of talk—

Of an injine in 'fifty-one, And New York State, and the city York At putting iires out are some. Wai, I've met and baffled for dear good life, In many a red hot blast, And I alias knew that, as sure as knife, The <cam would come through at last. But its different here on prairie sile, For a man 111113- struggle ""<■! %ht Like a grizzly bear in an all fire rile, And then he can't fetch things right. The last blaze we had lit up in the dark— But 'twatoi't dark long—by sin— For the-light that squirmed from a lantern spark, Made the stars in the heavens give in. There were shoutin' of men and a tramp of feet, As the red-eyed monster showed Like poppy blossoms among the wheat, Jitft as the grain is mowed. And little by little it crawled and crept Like snakes—now here now there— Till at last, Avith. a hiss and a snap, it leapt Feet high in the quivering air. And the tramping and shouting and clash of bell, I Went on with a mad increase, As if the varmints that people hell On earth had a second lease. Injine/horse-reel, and fire-escape, Like Maryland niggers wrought, But they all might just a been under the lake, For the amount of good they brought. And the wind, as glare of the work begun. Tossed it rip in a firey hill As a squaw tosses up her red-skin son, When the braves from the hunts comeir. The water, like peas on granite rocks, Jist spattered, as if iii pain, While the flames licked up the city in blocks, turkey broads pick up grain. We punrpt and pumpt with bodies and souls, And the streams went higher ar.cl higher, But they only spluttered out little holes In the face of the conquerintr fire. The pump was no use, so we let it rip To the river deep and wide ; But it came like the rush of a blazino- ship And stumpt on the other side. ° And a cry went up in the heat and smoke loGtd and His pitying Son— The first real praying as had been spoke Since the firey fight begun ; And jist to show the mistake'we made Unaided to push things through The clouds rolled up with the Ram Brigade, And did what we couldn't do. — OsCAU HUGHAN.