After a long search among the many morgues of the city the bodies were all identified, two of them being found there. CHAPTER X. HOW THE NEW YEAR WAS USHERED IN. The New Year came to Chicago with muffled drums, two days after the calamity that threw the great metropolis into mourning. Scarcely a sound was heard as 1904 entered. Jan. 1--day of funerals--was received in silence. Streets were almost deserted, even downtown. Men hurried silently along the sidewalks. There were not half a dozen tin horns in the downtown district where ordinarily the blare of trumpets, screech of steam whistles, volleys of shots and the merriment of late wayfarers make the entrance of a new year a period of deafening pandemonium. Merrymakers were quiet when in the streets and subdued even in the restaurants. Noise, except in a few scattered districts, was unknown. It was a remarkable, spontaneous testimony to the prevalent spirit throughout the city. Mayor Harrison had asked, in an official proclamation, that there be no noise, but few of those who desisted from the usual practices of greeting the New Year knew that they had been requested to be silent. MOURNING IN EVERY STREET. There were mourning families in every neighborhood; crepe in every street; grief stricken relatives throughout the city; unidentified dead in the morgues, and sufferers in the hospital. The citizens did not need to be requested to be quiet. Jan. 1, 1904, meant the beginning of funerals and the burial of dead who were to have lived to take part in merrymaking. A year before in downtown Chicago the din was an ear-splitting racket of horns, whistles, yells, songs, and exploding cannon. A year before the downtown streets were filled with hundreds of laughing men and women, roystering parties filling the air with the uproar of tin horns and revolvers. NOISE SEEMS A SACRILEGE. That night there were a messenger boy in La Salle street blowing a tin horn and a man at Wabash avenue and Harrison street. The other pedestrians looked at them as if they considered the noise a sacrilege. It was with the same feeling that they heard the blowing of the factory whistles in the few cases where the engineers forgot. A year before the outlying districts were awakened by the firing of cannon and the shouts of people in noisy celebrations. That dread night there was nothing to keep residents awake except grief. MAYOR ASKS FOR SILENCE. To insure this condition, as the only fitting one, Mayor Harrison had issued a proclamation in which he said: "On each recurring New Year's eve annoyance has been caused the sick and infirm by the indulgence of thoughtless persons in noisy celebrations of the passage of the old year. The city authorities have at all times discouraged this practice, but now, when Chicago lies in the shadow of the greatest disaster in her history for a generation, noisemaking, whether by bells, whistles, cannon, horns or any other means, is particularly objectionable.