“There are thousands and thousands of families in Galveston to-day without food or a place to lay their heads.
“But oh, in pity’s name, in America’s name, do not delay help one single instant! Send help quickly, or it will be too late.
“One week has passed since the awful calamity which laid low beautiful Galveston and the story has not yet been half told. The people against whom the appalling catastrophe was visited are just beginning to awake from the horrible nightmare which had its inception in the roaring torrents of the Gulf of Mexico.
“With the awakening comes memory—remembrance of awful scenes following the storm which up to now have been untold. Accounts of personal experiences are just becoming available, and the narration of the different stories is like a long, hideous dream.
“Quartered in the Chicago hospital in the Auditorium Theatre are persons whose minds were a blank all the week until the ministering of the ‘Chicago American’s’ nurses and physicians restored, at least partly, the shattered nerves and senses. During this morning’s early hours these unfortunates related their awful experiences.
“The story of Thomas Klee was possibly the most pitiful. Klee lived near Eleventh and N streets. When the storm burst he was alone in his house with his two infant children. He seized one under each arm and rushed from the frail structure in time to cheat death among the falling timbers of his home.
LODGED HIS CHILD IN A TREE.
“Once in the open, with his babies under his arms, he was swept into the bay among hundreds of others. He held to his precious burden and by skillful manœuvring managed to get close to a tree which was sweeping along with the tide. He saw a haven in the branches of the tree and raised his two-year-old daughter to place her in the branches. As he did so the little one was torn from his arm and carried away to her death.
“The awful blow stunned, but did not render senseless. Klee retained his hold on the other child, aged four years, and was whirled along among the dying and dead victims of the storm’s fury, hoping to effect a landing somewhere. An hour in the water brought the desired end. He was thrown ashore, with wreckage and corpses, and, stumbling to a footing, lifted his son to a level with his face. The boy was dead.
“Klee remembered nothing until last night, when he was put ashore in Texas City. He had a slight recollection of helping to bury dead, clear away debris and obey the command of soldiers. His brain, however, did not execute its functions until early to-day in the hospital.