"The buildings are of stone, you know," said one, "and stone buildings can't stand up against, an earthquake." Hearing remarks like this made me so dizzy with dread that I began picturing to myself the ruins of my home. I could almost hear the groans of those most dear to me buried under tons of stone and beams, It was maddening, and I had to struggle some to keep from crying out like a child. Slowly the train pulled by the ruins of San Mateo, Burlingame, and Milbrae, but just outside of San Bruno the long line of straining cars came to a sudden halt. We climbed out to find out the cause of the stop. Ahead we saw several hundred yards of track buckled and humped like much crumpled ribbon. We had gone as far as possible by rail. We counted the money in the crowd and decided to rent a rig if possible and drive the twenty miles to our homes. After walking three miles, we found no one willing to take us to the city for the money we were able to offer; so at this point two of our party left us. We must have gone about eight miles when the van of the thousands leaving the city met us. They were principally hobos and riffraff, packing their blankets on their backs. We stopped and anxiously inquired the plight of the city. Some said that the city was burned to the ground, some that the whole town was submerged by a tidal wave, but all agreed in this particular: that it was time to leave the city, for soon there would be nothing left of it. The numbers of the retreat were increasing now. We could see mothers wheeling their babes in buggies, limping, dusty, and tired. Men lashed and swore at horses straining at loads of household furnishings. All were in desperate haste. This increased our speed in the opposite direction. We began to see the dense black cloud of smoke hanging above the sky-line ahead of us. We almost ran. As we passed over each mile we heard more distressing tales from those leaving. Men called us fools to be going toward the doomed town. Thousands were traveling away; we were the only ones going toward San Francisco. At last we came to the old Sutro Forest. We toiled up to the summit of the ridge and looked down for the first time upon the city we were raised in. In my mind, it was a sight that shall always be vivid. The lower part of the city was a hell-like furnace. Even from that distance we could hear the roar of the flames and the crash of falling beams. We were paralyzed for a moment with the wonder of it. Then we began to run, run hard, down the slope toward the city. It was impossible for us to see our homes, for many hills intervened. Soon we reached the outskirts of the town. Fear grew stronger and stronger in my heart as I saw that all the chimneys of the houses were littering the streets through which we passed. They were of brick and so was my father's house.