“We did not know what she meant, but next morning we saw a neighbor’s carriage perched high on top of a pile of wreckage. Even when we looked out of the window we could not tell the extent of the damage. The moon rose, giving a very clear light, by which we could see objects floating around. It did not rain. The people were drowned by the water backing up from the bay and the Gulf. “At first the wind was to the northeast. This backed the water up from the west bay. Suddenly it turned to the southeast, causing a tidal wave. The water was from four to six feet deep. Two of the observers remained in observatory all night. The wind gauge broke when the wind was blowing from 115 to 125 miles an hour. HOUSES IN FRIGHTFUL COLLISION. “A house was washed against ours. In it the wreckers found eight bodies, three of these and a night sergeant of police were buried in one yard. Our house rocked dreadfully. It and the two houses on either side of it, are old houses built over. No one thought they could stand the fury of the gale; but they were the only three left standing in that part of the city. Mr. Frank Groome and Mr. Hall had to swim home. The house in which Mr. Hall spent the night was split in two, but the side he was in was left standing. If the wind had continued for two hours longer, there would not have been one person left to tell the tale. When the storm first started my brother and I went to the beach to watch the water. “Even then the water was backing up in the gutters and the little whitecaps were dancing on the waves. The steps of our house were washed away, but Sunday morning we found the body of a woman lodged in the brick work. Our pet donkey was drowned, but we saved the dogs and the cats as they were in the house. There were five big dogs and three little puppies. Paddy, a big dog, would sit around looking at us. He kept whining the whole time as if he knew something unusual was going on. They say black cats are lucky. Well, we had three of them. These would rub up against us in a frightened way. “Sunday morning, Mr. Groome came out to tell us about papa. Mrs. Brown, a friend of mamma’s, sent for us to come to her house. Nearly all the furniture of her house was ruined by the water. The surrender of the city of Galveston to the Union troops was written in her house and the table on which it was written is still there. We had a hard time getting to Mrs. Brown’s. We walked part of the way. A colored man with a bony horse hitched to a rickety little delivery wagon—‘dago carts,’ we call them—hauled us the rest of the way for a dollar a piece. All through the streets we met hysterical women and dazed-looking men.