“A professional gentleman who called upon me this afternoon, a gentleman of splendid human sympathies and refinement, wore a soiled black flannel shirt, without a coat, and in apologizing for his appearance said in the most casual, light-hearted way: ‘Excuse my appearance; I have just come in from burying the dead.’
“But these people will break down under this strain, and the Red Cross is glad of the force of strong, competent workers which it has brought to their relief.
“Portions of the business part of the city escaped the greatest severity of the storm and are left partially intact. Thus it is possible to purchase here nearly all the supplies that may be wanting. Still, the Galveston merchants should be given the benefit of home demands.
“Mayor Jones has offered to the Red Cross as headquarters the best building at his disposal.
“Relief is coming as rapidly as the crippled transportation facilities will admit. No one need fear, after seeing the brave and manly way in which these people are helping themselves, that too much outside aid will be given.
“In reply to the question, ‘What is most needed?’ I would say: The most immediate needs are surgical dressings, the ordinary medical remedies, and delicacies for the sick.”
THEY READ THEIR OWN OBITUARIES.
Reported dead several times, their obituaries printed in Galveston and Houston papers, Peter Boss, wife and son, formerly of Chicago, were found on the afternoon of September 18, after having passed through a most thrilling experience.
Mr. and Mrs. Boss were the persons in search of whom Mrs. M. C. McDonald, No. 4501 Drexel boulevard, Chicago, went to Houston.
Mrs. Boss’ story of her experience in the disaster was a thrilling one. With her husband and son she was seated at supper in her home on Twelfth street when the storm broke. She seized a handkerchief containing $2,000 from a bureau, and, placing it in her bosom, went with her husband and son to the second story.