A TERRIBLE FATE.
I knew he had woe in his heart, and I queried.
“I am the only one left,” he answered. “Papa, mamma, Lena and Guy—they are all gone.”
I remember the last time I saw this family before they left Dallas. I remember Lena, one of the most beautiful children I ever saw. I recall her beautiful eyes and long, dark curls, and I remember when she kissed me good-bye and joyously told me she was coming to Galveston to live! And this was her fate.
With all my old fondness for the ocean, recalling how I have lain upon the sand hour after hour, looking at its distant sails and listening to its mysterious voices, recalling happy moments too sacred for expression, when I think of that sweet child as one of its victims, I shall hate the sea forever.
And yet, what can this grief of mine amount to in the presence of the agony of the thousands who loved the 5000 souls who took leave of life amid the wild surging waters and pitiless tempest of last Saturday night?
After surveying the dismantled business section of the city, a cabman made his tortuous way through the residence sections. It was a slow journey, for the streets were jammed with houses, furniture, cooking utensils, bedding, clothing, carpets, window frames, and everything imaginable, to say nothing of the numerous carcasses of the poor horses, cows and other domestic animals.