“I have seen tracks of many cyclones, but never have I seen the path of one that held the misery, the suffering and the general destruction that were occasioned by this hurricane, assisted by the sea. “Furniture, household articles, pianos (complete and in part) and the carcasses of every kind of domestic animal were to be found in chaos. Even from the mainland could be seen the dire effects of the storm on the seaport of Texas—jagged walls, broken smokestacks, tin roofs suspended from their proper places or lying curled up at my feet in the bay, a distance of several miles from where they belonged. While it is natural for a person drowning to cling to whatever comes in their reach with that intensity that they cannot be disengaged, after death, without much trouble, this very thing lent much grewsomeness to the scene. Mothers with their children in their arms could not be separated from them, even by death. “The piling of the destroyed railroad bridges had an occasional figure clinging to them. On nearer approach the head was seen to be thrown back as if to keep above water, and the features were distorted with horror as if in their last moments they realized the fatality of the attempt. The sea, not content with drowning the living and washing them away, desecrated the tombs of Galveston and several caskets were seen floating on the bosom of the quiet bay that morning and two or three were found on shore as if resentful at having their rightful rest disturbed. “Many people from a distance moved only by a morbid curiosity, which I consider little short of criminal, crowded to Houston in order that they might go to the devastated city and view the misery and devastation, not willing to alleviate suffering or help to bury the dead. As for me, I trust I will never look on a sight as appalling, as heartrending, as desolate, while life lasts.” A ST. LOUIS MAN STORMBOUND. George MacLaine, of St. Louis, arrived at Dallas from Galveston, where he spent the time from Friday until Tuesday. “I was intending to leave on the 1.50 train Saturday afternoon,” he said, “but I could not get away on account of the storm, the water having risen to such an extent that it could not cross the bridge. “My experience was pretty much the same as a large number of others have given. During the storm I was in a building located at the corner of Twenty-fifth and Market streets, two or three blocks above the Santa Fe depot. We were in the parlor of the hotel on the second floor, with about eight feet of water in the lower story. The parlor was crowded with guests and refugees, men and women, and from the windows I witnessed a great many affecting and pathetic sights, particularly in the way of appeals to the men in the hotel to assist in rescuing women with children in the neighborhood who had become separated from their husbands.