PHIL KELSEV'S FIREWORKS. 67

they could follow. As he ran he blamed
himself bitterly for his long silence. O,
why had he been so obstinate? Why
had he not warned Philip before? If the
mills burned he would blame himself as
long as he lived. ae

They were too late. A loud report of
gunpowder smote the air, and a flash of
light burst from one of the north win-
dows. Roman candles shot in all direc-
tions, and rockets and fire bombs ex-
ploded on the floor, Then a human voice
was heard—the voice of Luke Slater. He
had thrown a bale of burning cotton upon
the fireworks, intending to fire the mill,
and his punishment had come with ap-
palling swiftness. The flash of powder
had forever destroyed his sight!

But the mill was burning! Mr. Kelsey
unlocked his office, and rushed in to try

to save his books and papers. He had
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