“The street gave a convulsive shudder and the buildings somehow righted themselves again. I thought they had crashed together above my head.
“The air was filled with the roar of explosions. They were dynamiting great blocks. Sailors were training guns to rake rows of residences.
“All the while we were moving onward with the crowd. Cinders were falling about us. At times our clothing caught fire, just little embers that smoked and went out. The sting burned our faces and we used our handkerchiefs for veils.
“Everybody around us was using some kind of cloth to shield their eyes. It looked curious to see expressmen and teamsters wearing those veils.
“Quite naturally we seemed to come to Golden Gate Park. It seemed as if we had started for there. By this time the darkness was settling. But it was a weird twilight. The glare from the burning city threw a kind of red flame and shadow about us. It seemed uncanny; the figures about us moved like ghosts.
“The wind and fog blew chill from the ocean and we walked about to keep warm. Thousands were walking about, too, but there was no disturbance.
“Families trudged along there. There was no hurry. All appeared to have time to spare. The streets, walks, and lawns were wiggling with little parties, one or two families in each. The men had brought bedding and blankets and they made impromptu shelters to keep off the fog.
“The cinders still kept falling. They seemed at times to come down right against the wind. They stung my face and made me restless.
“All night we moved about the hills. Thousands were moving with us. As the night wore on the crowd grew.
“Near daylight the soldiers came to the park. They were still moving in front of the fire.