FORTY PERSONS BURNT TO DEATH IN A THEATRE.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume XIII, Issue 189, 7 August 1878, Page 4

FORTY PERSONS BURNT TO DEATH IN A THEATRE.

fFro.ro the " Times of Tula's " own correv- ! pindent]. Ahmednuweb, I2«h May. This quiet station hss just been shocked and horrified beyond m*asurp by such a cat- ' flstropbe -as hm pmhnbly not oWYi'rred ninflfl a wbnlp Coo^ren-efiot; 'o'f Roman Ca<Mjo.B «-re burnt »«?* e i n tne cathedral or Santiago soige fifteen or sixteen i years 8I „ ee . I the earliest ! details this morning. I have just time to wnte a few further particulars, and 1 w-ill keen you well informed by wire. For the last week a well-known Pardee Theatric! Club from Bombay has been entertaining* tbe public of Ahm«d--uiiSßcr with their perfnrmatcps. The thine was n novelty here, the actioo and scenery were better that* our out. of-the-way native pnblio had any right • to expect ; and, bs r. nonsrquenceran i unusually large audience wae attracted. A commodious mandup Was erected outside of the cit y> opposite the native infantry lines, to serve as a theatre. On Saturday oieht the houee was mi* usually -crowded to witness the performance of " Situmgeer, or the Tyrant," «ue of the beet-known and most popular trace-lies in the Victoria Company's little reppnoire. The play was over by tpn o'clock, and tbe a'u-lince was laughing and chuckling over the humors of an amusing fsree, when sudden)? a rustling, crackling noise^ which increased to a roar B g it nearer! them, was beard from the lower end of tbe nr-ndun. Then nrogo a cry of " v ye" whioh 'leepenet into a terrih'e ■shrink, when it Wae seen that th« ceil in<> whs nlre-dv ia a hlez*. For a •raonriprit, the audience ware piralj-ged with frigh«, but as the flames Bpread sach a horrible scene ensued as those present declare will haunt thera to their dying day. A furious rush was made for tbe little entrance. The flames taso.en-led rapidly. Old an' young jostled each other towards the Joor, shrieking «nd crying, Some fought like wild beasts. Many fell nnd Vfere trampled under foot. Eyery moment waa ■ precious. . The w'hole pavillion quickly filled with flame^ aud by _ ibe time three-quarters of the audience had escaped, the stron B easterly wind caught the flames, and carried it like a scorching sheet of Are clean and quick across the interior of the booth. By this time, though the door, was still blocked with a struggling roaes, most who were able to move were safe, but the others lay yelling and eroaning in the agonies of en awful death. Tbe European residents ran to the spot at the first alarm, aod eased tbe block at the doorway by pulling the froat row of the crowd bodily out at bent they could, nod with tremendous eflortß. Major Trevelyan and Colonel Utterson behaved with the greatest gallantry, and but for the order and confidence inspired by their daring and coolness the catastrophe would have been much greater. The whole fire did not, I believe, occupy more than fiv?! -minutes; but as the scorched and "wounded people were pulled out from near the entrance and passed into the open air, itseemed.au eternity | before the flames died down sufficiently to enable the rescuing pirty to drag the dead out of the centra of the auditorium. There was a horrible sickly smell of burnt flepb, and the Right was simply awful. But why should I inflict upon yoyr readers what. I can scarcely dare to remember ? About 40 victims, onehalf of whom I am told, were native soldiars, were dragged.out of tbefiames, who had either been burnt to death, or had more mercifully been suffocated by the smoke. The bodies were literally roasted, and the charred remains looked like bo many broken and disfigured •statues, some without bands, some without legs, and ail of the hair and clothing completely burnt away. I saw fifteen people taken to the hospital — I believe more have gone — suffering from severe burns, which, in too many coses, are likely to prove, fatal. I can hardly describe the »tate of feeling here. The whole place is filled with mourners, and the catastrophe ba3 been so sudden, the transition from a scene of amusemeat to one of utter desolation so terrible, that it is impossible to console them.