On Thursday morning at a quarter past five， just twentyfourhours after the earthquake， I sat on the steps ofa small residence on Nob Hill. With me sat Japanese，Italians， Chinese， and negroes—a bit of the cosmopolitanflotsam of the wreck of the city. All about were thepalaces of the nabob pioneers of Forty-nine. To the eastand south at right angles， were advancing two mighty wallsof flame.
I went inside with the owner of the house on the stepsof which I sat. He was cool and cheerful and hospitable.
“Yesterday morning，” he said， “I was worth six hundredthousand dollars. This morning this house is all I haveleft. It will go in fifteen minutes.” He pointed to a largecabinet. “That is my wife’s collection of china. This rugupon which we stand is a present. It cost fifteen hundreddollars. Try that piano. Listen to its tone. There are fewlike it. There are no horses. The flames will be here infifteen minutes.’’
Outside the old Mark Hopkins residence a palacewas just catching fire. The troops were falling back anddriving the refugees before them. From every side camethe roaring of flames， the crashing of walls， and thedetonations of dynamite
The Dawn of the Second Day
I passed out of the house. Day was trying to dawnthrough the smoke-pall. A sickly light was creeping overthe face of things. Once only the sun broke through thesmoke-pall， blood-red， and showing quarter its usualsize. The smoke-pall itself， viewed from beneath， was arose color that pulsed and fluttered with lavender shadesThen it turned to mauve and yellow and dun. There wasno sun. And so dawned the second day on stricken SanFrancisco.
An hour later I was creeping past the shattered domeof the City Hall. Than it there was no better exhibit ofthe destructive force of the earthquake. Most of the stonehad been shaken from the great dome， leaving standingthe naked framework of steel. Market Street was piledhigh with the wreckage， and across the wreckage lay theoverthrown pillars of the City Hall shattered into shortcrosswise sections.
This section of the city with the exception of the Mintand the Post-Office， was already a waste of smoking ruins.
Here and there through the smoke， creeping warily underthe shadows of tottering walls， emerged occasional menand women. It was like the meeting of the handful ofsurvivors after the day of the end of the world.
Beeves Slaughtered and Roasted
On Mission Street lay a dozen steers， in a neat rowstretching across the street just as they had been struckdown by the flying ruins of the earthquake. The fire hadpassed through afterward and roasted them. The humandead had been carried away before the fire came. Atanother place on Mission Street I saw a milk wagon. Asteel telegraph pole had smashed down sheer through thedriver’s seat and crushed the front wheels. The milk canslay scattered around.
All day Thursday and all Thursday night， all day Fridayand Friday night， the flames still raged on.
Friday night saw the flames finally conquered， throughnot until Russian Hill and Telegraph Hill had been sweptand three-quarters of a mile of wharves and docks hadbeen licked up.
The Last Stand
The great stand of the fire-fighters was made Thursdaynight on Van Ness Avenue. Had they failed here， thecomparatively few remaining houses of the city wouldhave been swept. Here were the magnificent residences ofthe second generation of San Francisco nabobs， and these，in a solid zone， were dynamited down across the path ofthe fire. Here and there the flames leaped the zone， butthese fires were beaten out， principally by the use of wetblankets and rugs.
San Francisco， at the present time， is like the crater ofa volcano， around which are camped tens of thousandsof refugees At the Presidio alone are at least twentythousand. All the surrounding cities and towns are jammedwith the homeless ones， where they are being cared forby the relief committees. The refugees were carried freeby the railroads to any point they wished to go， and it isestimated that over one hundred thousand people haveleft the peninsula on which San Francisco stood. TheGovernment has the situation in hand， and， thanks to theimmediate relief given by the whole United States， there isnot the slightest possibility of a famine. The bankers andbusiness men hare already set about making preparationsto rebuild San Francisco.
