A French paper in New York, the _Courier des Etats-Unis,_ published the
following instance of brave self-sacrifice by a Belgian comic singer
named Martens, who at one time was in this country, and gave
entertainments in the "Empire City." The scene in which he figures here
as the hero is laid in Bucharest, the half-oriental capital of
Wallachia, at the farther end of Europe:
M. Martens, says the Bucharest _Chronicle,_ lived with his family near
a house wherein broke out a fire at one o'clock in the morning.
Half-dressed, he ran out to help his neighbors, and found a woman crying
wildly, "My children!"
"How many have you got?" he said.
"Three."
"Which room?"
"Up stairs, third story."
"Why, that's where the fire broke out!" cried Martens, and went up the
staircase in a hurry. In a few minutes he came down with his arms full.
"There they are," said he; "but there's only two."
"Merciful Heaven! I forgot to tell you that the other was in the back
room."
"Well,--yes; you might have mentioned that before. You see the timbers
are falling, and--I've got three children myself. However"---
Up he went again, four steps at a time. Pretty soon he came back, a
blackamoor with smoke; but he had the baby safe and sound, and gave it
to its mother. Next day when he came to sing at the Muller Gardens, the
audience glorified him.
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