I had made no call beyond the Red Cross societies--expected no supplies from other sources--but scarcely had news of our arrival at Cincinnati found its way to the public press when telegrams of money and checks, from all sides and sources, commenced to come in, with letters announcing the sending of material. The express office and freight depots began filling up until within two weeks we were compelled to open large supply rooms, which were generously tendered to the use of the Red Cross. A description could no more do justice to our flood of supplies than to the flood of waters which had made them necessary--cases, barrels and bales of clothing, food, household supplies, new and old; all that intelligent awakened sympathy could suggest was there in such profusion that, so far from thinking of leaving it one must call all available help for its care and distribution. The government would supply the destitute people with food, tents and army blankets, and had placed its military boats upon the river to rescue the people and issue rations until the first great need should be supplied. The work of the Red Cross is supplemental and it sought for the special wants likely to be overlooked in this great general supply and the necessities _outside_ the limits of governmental aid. The search was not difficult. The government provided neither fuel nor clothing. It was but little past midwinter. A cyclone struck the lower half of the river with the water at its greatest height and whole villages were swept away in a night. The inhabitants escaped in boats, naked and homeless. Hail fell to the depth of several inches and the entire country was encased in sleet and ice. The water had filled the coal mines so abundant in that vicinity until no fuel could be obtained. The people were more likely to freeze than starve and against this there was no provision. We quickly removed our headquarters from Cincinnati to Evansville, three hundred miles below and at the head of the recent scene of disaster. A new staunch steamer of four hundred tons burden was immediately chartered and laden to the water's edge with clothing and coal; good assistants, both men and women were taken on board; the Red Cross flag was hoisted and as night was setting in, after a day of intense cold--amid surging waters and crashing ice, the floating wrecks of towns and villages, great uprooted giants of the forest plunging madly to the sea, the suddenly unhoused people wandering about the river banks, or huddled in strange houses with fireless hearths--the clear-toned bell and shrill whistle of the "Josh V. Throop" announced to the generous inhabitants of a noble city that from the wharves of Evansville was putting out the first Red Cross relief boat that ever floated on American waters.