it was a weird twilight. The glare from the burning city threw a
kind of red flame and shadow about us. It seemed uncanny; the figures
about us moved like ghosts.

"The wind and fog blew chill from the ocean and we walked about to
keep warm. Thousands were walking about, too, but there was no
disturbance.

"Families trudged along there. There was no hurry. All appeared to
have time to spare. The streets, walks, and lawns were wiggling with
little parties, one or two families in each. The men had brought
bedding and blankets and they made impromptu shelters to keep off the
fog.

"The cinders still kept falling. They seemed at times to come down
right against the wind. They stung my face and made me restless.

"All night we moved about the hills. Thousands were moving with us. As
the night wore on the crowd grew.

"Near daylight the soldiers came to the park. They were still moving
in front of the fire.

"I had brought a little store of provisions before nightfall and
somehow we had kept them. It seemed easy to keep things there. I
walked over to the fire made by one squad of soldiers and picked up a
tin bucket. They looked at me but made no move. I went to a faucet and
turned it on. Water was there. Not much, but a trickling little
stream. There was water in the park all night. I boiled some eggs and
we ate our breakfast. Then we concluded to try to make our way back to
the water front. We did this because the soldiers were driving us from
that part of the hills. The flames were still after us.

"The dumb horror of it seemed to reach right into one's heart. Walking
and resting, we reached the ferry near sunset. We had come back
through a burned district some four miles. I do not understand how the
people stood it.

"Other parties staggered past us. They were reeling, but not from
wine. It was here that the pangs of thirst caught us. But the end came
at last. We reached the ferry and the boats were running. The soldiers
were there, too. They seemed to be everywhere. They were offering milk
to the women and children.

"We are in Los Angeles now. It hardly seems real. If it were not for
the sting of the cinders that still stick to my face and eyes I might
think it was all a nightmare."

* * * * *

Adolphus Busch, the St. Louis brewer, gave this account of his
experiences in the earthquake:

"The earthquake which shook 'Frisco made all frantic, and was
undoubtedly the severest