From the northeast it is generally conceded the storm came. Galveston island runs nearly east and west. So it will be seen that it had a clean sweep from end to end of it. The streets are numbered across the island. They are lettered as they run with the island, east and west. For instance, the street running east and west nearest the bay is A street. Then there is B, and so on toward the Gulf. P and Q streets may be said to be two-thirds across the island, that is to say, they are three-quarters of a mile from the bay and a quarter of a mile from the Gulf. This is not an accurate statement and is only given to illustrate. Between Q street and the Gulf were hundreds and hundreds of houses. While many were fine mansions, the great majority of them were the houses of the poor. HAMMERED INTO SHAPELESS MASSES. Coming down the island from the east, the storm struck these habitations. It was in this area, east and west, from one end of the town to the other, it did its worst. The large houses were overthrown. Where they fell they were hammered into shapeless masses. The small ones were taken up. A man can take two eggs and mash them against each other. The waters took the remnants and pushed them forward. One street of buildings would go down. That would be next to the Gulf. The timbers were hurled against another street. It would go down. The debris of the two would attack the third. The three would attack the fourth, and thus on till Q street was reached. Here the mass lodged. It is said by some, though I know nothing of it, that about it is the backbone, or high part of the island. The great mass of matter became heavy. It must have dragged upon the ground as the water here could have only been five to seven feet deep. But this would not have stopped it, had the last street to be assaulted, Q street or Q½ street, not interposed. The houses here were rather large and strong. This battering ram made by the winds and worked both by the winds and the water, met with resistance from the houses and was impeded by its own weight, which dragged it on the bottom. Its efforts at destruction became more and more feeble. The houses stood, though wrecked. The debris climbed to the very eaves. But the more that came, the heavier the mass became. And lo! the very assailant became the defender! For, piling higher and higher—piling higher and higher by the addition of houses lately splintered, by the addition of everything from a piano to a child’s whistle, there was a wall built against the great waves which rolled in from the Gulf, and thereby the territory lying between the bulwark and the bay, was protected to some extent. True, the casual observer will think as he looks even up and down the main streets of the town, that very little protection was given. A BULWARK OF DEAD PEOPLE.