ted, and property valued at
nearly $5,000,000 was destroyed.

A writer in the Charleston News and Courier gave a vivid account of
the catastrophe. Extracts from his story follow:

"It is not given to many men to look in the face of the destroyer and
yet live; but it is little to say that the group of strong men who
shared the experiences of that awful night will carry with them the
recollection of it to their dying day. None expected to escape. A
sudden rush was simultaneously made for the open air, but before the
door was reached all reeled together to the tottering wall and
stopped, feeling that hope was vain; that it was only a question of
death within the building or without, to be buried by the sinking roof
or crushed by the toppling walls. Then the uproar slowly died away in
seeming distance.

"The earth was still, and O, the blessed relief of that stillness! But
how rudely the silence was broken! As we dashed down the stairway and
out into the street, already on every side arose the shrieks, the
cries of pain and fear, the prayers and wailings of terrified women
and children, commingling with the hoarse shouts of excited men. Out
in the street the air was filled with a whitish cloud of dry, stifling
dust, through which the gaslights flickered dimly. On every side were
hurrying forms of men and women, bareheaded, partly dressed, many of
whom were crazed with fear and excitement. Here a woman is supported,
half fainting, in the arms of her husband, who vainly tries to soothe
her while he carries her to the open space at the street corner, where
present safety seems assured; there a woman lies on the pavement with
upturned face and outstretched limbs, and the crowd passes her by, not
pausing to see whether she be alive or dead.

"A sudden light flares through a window overlooking the street, it
becomes momentarily brighter, and the cry of fire resounds from the
multitude. A rush is made toward the spot. A man is seen through the
flames trying to escape. But at this moment, somewhere--out at sea,
overhead, deep in the ground--is heard again the low, ominous roll
which is already too well known to be mistaken. It grows louder and
nearer, like the growl of a wild beast swiftly approaching his prey.
All is forgotten in the frenzied rush for the open space, where alone
there is hope of security, faint though it be.

"The tall buildings on either hand blot out the skies and stars and
seem to overhang every foot of g