In one place near Tremont street and Avenue P four roofs and remnants of four houses are jammed within a space of about twenty-five feet square. Beneath this long ridge many hundred men, women and children were buried, and cattle, horses and dogs and other animals were piled together in one confused mass. While every house in the city or suburbs suffered more or less from the hurricane and encroachment of the Gulf waters, the above section suffered the most in being swept as clean as a desert. Another area extending east to Thirteenth street and south of Broadway to the Gulf suffered greatly, and few of the buildings withstood the storm, none without being damaged to a more or less extent. From Tremont street and Avenue P½ wind came northward for about two blocks and then cut across westward to the extreme limits of the city; in fact, swept clear on down the island for many miles. The path of the levelled ground west from Avenue P cleared the several blocks, extending south to the beach and west to Twenty-seventh street. It cut diagonally southwest on a straight line within three blocks of the beach and down west on the beach many miles beyond the city limits. This does not mean that the path of the storm was confined to this stretch of territory—not by any means. There were many blocks in the centre of the city almost totally demolished by the fury of the wind and sea, but the above long line of about four miles of the city proper and many miles of country land were swept clean of buildings and all other obstructions. NO VESTIGE LEFT OF BUILDINGS. A few of the piles that once supported the street-railway trestle extending from Centre street to Tremont street on the beach are all that remains to mark the curved line of right-of-way. Not a vestige of the three large bath-houses of Keef’s Pagoda and Murdock is to be seen.