“The great utilities of the city are being repaired to a state of usefulness. Men are in demand and workers are coming to engage in the duty of restoration. Life is beginning to supersede death, and there is apparent everywhere a desire to save the city and rebuild it. “Before another week has passed, the listlessness of mourning people will have been changed into a lively interest in life, and as this comes so, Galveston will begin to realize just what the world expects of her. General Scurry now has charge of the town, and it is really under martial law. “Of course there is some friction. Martial friction, like the martial law, is a matter only temporary. It would be difficult to challenge the necessity of this measure. There are many defenseless women and children in the city, living in houses without locks and keys, and they must be protected against prowlers of all kinds. How long such protection will be necessary cannot be known now, but General Scurry can be depended upon to discharge the important obligations which he has assumed. “There are political factions here who resent the idea of martial law, but this fact does not, for a moment, abate the necessity for it. United States Marshal John Grant has arrived with twelve deputy marshals. He tendered his services to General Scurry and they were accepted. WALKING OVER CORPSES. “One hundred people at present are at Virginia Point, some waiting for transportation over to Galveston, some for day to break so as to permit of the burial of corpses, of which there are many scattered up and down the beach and all over the prairie for a radius of ten miles. Others are waiting for a first chance to get as far away as possible from this terrible scene. Men who will work are very scarce. Those willing have a desire to boss, which does not facilitate matters in the least. An organized force of considerable proportion should be sent here at once. “An eight-mile walk from where the passengers were put off the train last night to this place, over the corpses of human beings and animals, piles of lumber, household articles of every description and furniture was an experience so horrible that a small proportion of those who started are here this morning. “A caboose and engine are standing just above this place. In it are four train men all crippled and sick, only one of them being able to get about. With them are a father and son, the remainder of a party of eight who tried to cross the bay Saturday. A half mile farther down, or a hundred yards from the bay, is another engine and caboose, in it a family of six, four of them small children, are congregated. They lived at this place and had a hard fight for their lives. They are caring for a switchman, who will live only a few hours. They are in a destitute condition. REFUGEES CRAZED BY THEIR SUFFERINGS.