adquarters of the
military authorities has secured the names of all who are among the
straggling wanderers around the camps of the homeless. Perhaps then it
will be found that these children are in a trench among the corpses of
the weaklings who have succumbed to the frightful rigors of the last
three days.

"Last night a soldier seized me by the arm and cried: 'If you are a
woman with a woman's heart, go in there and do whatever you can.'

"'In there' meant behind a barricade of brush, covered with a blanket
that had been hastily thrown together to form a rude shelter. I went in
and saw one of my own sex lying on the bare grass naked, her clothing
torn to shreds; scattered over the green beside her. She was moaning
pitifully, and it needed no words to tell a woman what the matter was,
I bade my man escort to find a doctor, or at least send more women
at once. He ran off and soon two sympathetic ladies hastened into the
shelter. In an hour my escort returned with a young medical student.
Under the best ministrations we could find, a new life was ushered into
this hell, which, a few hours before, was the fairest among cities.

"'There have been many such cases,' said the medical student. 'Many of
the mothers have died--few of the babies have lived. I, personally, know
of nine babies that have been born in the park to-day. There must have
been many others here, among the sand hills, and at the Presidio.'"

"Think of it, you happy women who have become mothers in comfortable
homes, attended with every care that loving hands can bestow. Think of
the dreadful plight of these poor members of your sex. The very thought
of it is enough to make the hearts of women burst with pity.

"To-day I walked among the people crowded on the Panhandle. Opposite
the Lyon Street entrance, on the north side, I saw a young woman sitting
tailor-fashion in the roadway, which, in happier days, was the carriage
boulevard. She held a dishpan and was looking at her reflection in the
polished bottom, while another girl was arranging her hair. I recognized
a young wife, whose marriage to a prominent young lawyer eight months
ago was a gala event among that little handful of people who clung to
the old-time fashionable district of Valencia Street, like the Phelan
and Dent families, and refused to move from that aristocratic section
when the new-made, millionaires began to build their palaces on Nob Hill
and Pacific Heights. I spoke to the young woma