Earthquake and Fire in San Francisco
By E. W. Farnsworth
FROM PASTOR E. W. FARNSWORTH.
(Excerpts from a letter to his wife, January 15.) THE city is ruined. It seems to me that by far the greater part of the houses are flat on the ground, and those that have not fallen are so badly shaken, and the walls are so broken, they will have to be taken down before they can be inhabited. Soon after the earthquake, the fire broke out in several places at the same time, and it burned and burned all night till there is not one store left in the city, and some tell me that not a business place of any kind is left. We soon found all we could do in helping to dig people out of the ruins. We worked at this until one o'clock last night. At four o'clock in the morning we went to the hospital and found plenty to do. There were 150 people who had been brought in. Some of these had already been cared for. The surgeons had already taken off twenty-six legs, and several arms. Twenty-seven people had died there of their injuries. . . . Fortunately, only a part of the hospital was ruined. There were six surgeons at work all night. While I was at the morgue I saw them bring in a load of dead bodies. As the wagon was short, they had to put them on top of one another, like so many logs of wood. I then went to the wharf, and while standing there a boat came in with thirty or forty dead on it. While Brother Evans and I were traveling about last night, we came across many dead people lying on the sidewalks and other places. They had been found, but as there was no conveyance to carry them away, nothing could be done but to leave them where they were until some time to-day. I saw several bodies to-day as I was going about. The people are at work trying to get the bodies out of the ruins. It is reported that fifty soldiers were killed at the barracks. It is also reported that nearly all the inmates of the penitentiary were killed. The leading men in the city declare that hundreds of people were buried in the ruins and burned; for all the business houses went down, and it would seem that but few escaped. Some say there must be as many as two thousand killed, but you must remember that everything is in the wildest confusion. Every one seems to know it all, and no one really knows anything scarcely. We all know this,—that the city, as such, is wiped out; that nearly all are houseless and homeless; that hundreds and probably thousands are dead; and that several hundred more are in the hospitals suffering from terrible wounds. No one slept in their houses last night, and none will to-night. The streets are full of people, and the parks are swarming with them. The weather is warm and dry, so there will be little suffering on that account, which indeed is a great mercy. As I went out last night I saw hundreds of people going to the parks and to the fair ground with great bundles and packs on their heads. I saw more than a hundred women carrying trunks that way, many of them of good size. How heavy they were I can not tell. It was the most pitiable thing I ever witnessed to see the people at the hospital. Men, women, youth, and little children were all lying side by side on the grass, many of them badly bruised, nearly all bleeding; some were dead, some were dying, and all were suffering whose sufferings had not ended. I saw a good many children, bruised and wounded, lying with the rest, and they were so patient. I did not see one that was crying. They did the best they could to answer all the questions asked them. While there are many people carrying on some kind of religious work, I see none who are having a hilarious time. I hear no foolish songs, but frequently hear such hymns as these: "While on others Thou art calling
Do not pass me by." Again in another place we hear: "Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high." And yet in such a dreadful time, to-day (Wednesday) theft and robbery are going on all over town. They have looted two stores on each side of us, and the police seem to be in sympathy with the robbers.