ave of flame,
soldiers were directing the work of saving the priceless art treasures
from the Mark Hopkins institute.

Lieut. C. C. McMillan of the revenue cutter Bear impressed volunteers
at the point of a pistol to assist in saving the priceless art
treasures which the building housed.

"Here you," barked Lieutenant McMillan to the great crowd of dazed
men, "get in there and carry out those paintings."

"What business have you got to order us about?" said a burly citizen
with the jowl of a Bill Sykes.

The lieutenant gave a significant hitch to his arm and the burly man
saw a revolver was hanging from the forefinger of the lieutenant's
right hand.

"Look here," said the lieutenant. "You see this gun? Well, I think it
is aimed at your right eye. Now, come here. I want to have a little
talk with you."

The tough stared for a moment and then the shade of fear crept over
his face, and with an "All right, boss," he started in upon the labor
of recovering the art treasures from the institute.

"This is martial law," said the determined lieutenant. "I don't like
it, you may not like it, but it goes. I think that is understood."

* * * * *

John H. Ryan and wife of Chicago after spending their honeymoon in
Honolulu and Jamaica reached San Francisco just before the earthquake.
They were stopping at the St. Francis Hotel, which was destroyed
partially by the earthquake and totally by the fire following the
shock. They lost many of their personal effects, but are thankful that
they escaped with their lives.

"When the first shock came," said Mr. Ryan, "I was out of bed in an
instant. I immediately was thrown to the floor. Arising, I held on by
a chair and by the door knob until I could get around the room to the
window to see if I could find out what was the matter. I saw people
running and heard them in the corridors of the hotel. I also heard
women screaming. I hastily called one of my friends and he and myself
threw on our overcoats, stuck our feet into our shoes and ran
downstairs. I ran back to tell my wife, when I found her coming down
the stairs.

"The first shock lasted, according to a professor in the university,
sixty seconds. I thought it lasted about as many days.

"At the second shock all the guests piled into the streets. We stood
in the bitter cold street for fully a quarter of an hour with nothing
about us but our spring overcoats. I said 'bitter cold.' So it was.
P