red and stoves and iron are twisted
and broken. The vagaries of this flood are many.

'I Thought You Were Dead.'

"Turn this corner. Now, will you look at that? There is a house with the
back all knocked out. The furniture has disappeared, but on the wall you
see a picture hanging, and as I am alive it is a picture of a flood.
What did I tell you a little while ago? Here is a house with its walls
nearly intact. Next it is nothing but a heap of rubbish. Here is nothing
but a cellar full of debris. Next it is a wooden dwelling. A man sits on
the piazza with his clothing hung about him for an airing. And so it
goes right here in the neighborhood of the main street, but if we pull
out a bit from this place we shall see that the damage is a great deal
greater. Through this break you can see the Presbyterian church. It is
about ruined, but it still stands. If you go up stairs, what do you
think you will see in that cold, dark, damp room? Stretched upon the
tops of the pews are long boards, and stretched upon the boards are
corpses. They have been embalmed, and are awaiting identification. But
we won't go in there. All the morgues are alike, and we shall find
another before long.

"Hark! There are two women greeting each other. Let's hear what they
say.

"'Why, Eliza, I thought you were dead. How's all the folks? Are they all
saved?'

"'Yes; they are all saved--all but sister and her little girl.'

"Well, that was cool, wasn't it? But you hear that on every corner. As I
told you, in the presence of so much death the sensibilities are
blunted. People do not yet realize their great grief.

"There, we are safely by the main street with its dangers of pestilence,
for you noticed that it was reeking with filth and bad smells, and
safely by the falling walls, for the workmen are tearing down everything
shaky. Look out, there, or you will get scorched by that huge bonfire.
They are burning all over town. Everything that the men can lift is
dragged to these fires and burned. This is the plan for clearing the
town. You noticed it at the bridge and you notice it here. Men with axes
and saws are cutting timbers too big to be moved, and men with ropes and
horses and even stationary engines are pressed into service to tug at
the ruins. Slowly the debris is yielding to the flames.

An Awful Sepulchre.

"Ha! now we are getting over by the hills into what is known as the
Fourth Ward. Here it is on our map--No. 7. What a sight!