“I then went a few steps further and found Mrs. A. C. Bell, of Eighteenth and O, and Mrs. Junker, of O, between Sixteenth and Seventeenth streets, both dead. We had come from Seventeenth and Beach to Nineteenth and N. Right across the street was Mr. Sewall’s house, and I went over there to search for the rest of my folks and found them there all right, so I went back and got my mother and brother off the debris, and brought them all together once more. “We have lost everything we owned and can’t find a piece of the house or a button off any one’s clothes, but I still have my front door key. My folks are cut up pretty much, and so am I about the feet, but I am going to stay here and try and make Galveston what it has been. In the house on Seventeenth and O is where Mrs. Armour and her five children were drowned.” Another letter says: “I, together with many others, was a passenger on the Houston relief train last Tuesday, and among the number there was one who should have special mention. This was Miss Lillian Bleike. I am informed she is the daughter of W. T. Bleike, a travelling salesman. This young lady was at Brenham when the news of the storm was reported, and as everything on earth near and dear to her was on the doomed island, she embarked upon the first train out. “Ladies were not permitted upon this train. However, nothing daunted, she boarded the relief train at Houston, and through the kindness of those in charge, was permitted to go. At Lamarque, all had to foot it, and also to assist in clearing the debris. This, too, she would have done, but was not allowed to do so, and, like a good soldier, footed it through mud and slush to Virginia Point, boating it to the city, determined to learn the fate of the loved and dear ones. I have since learned her family was saved, and what a happy reunion this must have been. For pluck and courage, the adventures of this young lady stand among the few.” CHAPTER XX. The Storm’s Murderous Fury—People Stunned by the Staggering Blow—Heroic Measures to Avert Pestilence—Thrilling Story of the Ursuline Convent. While the story of Galveston’s woe can never be told, yet the demand naturally should be that as much shall be told as the human mind is capable of telling. The man does not live now, and the man never lived who could draw the picture in all its horrible details. The greatest of poets sang of the destruction of Troy. Tacitus, and later other historians, have told of the deeds of the madman Nero. The contests between Marius and Sulla have filled pages through all time. The destruction of Pompeii has been vividly described by novelists and historians.