he
Presidio nursing one child and feeding three others from a board propped
on two bricks. "We have lost our home and all we had, but we have never
been hungry nor without shelter."

The spirit of '49 was vital in many of the refugees. One man wanted to
know whether the fire had reached his home. He was informed that there
was not a house standing in that section of the city. He shrugged his
shoulders and whistled.

"There's lots of others in the same boat," as he turned away.

"Going to build?" repeated one man, who had lost family and home inside
of two hours. "Of course, I am. They tell me that the money in the banks
is still all right, and I have some insurance. Fifteen years ago I began
with these," showing his hands, "and I guess I'm game to do it over
again. Build again, well I wonder."

Among the many pathetic incidents of the disaster was that of a woman
who sat at the foot of Van Ness Avenue on the hot sands on the hillside
overlooking the bay east of Fort Mason, with four little children,
the youngest a girl of three, the eldest a boy of ten years. They were
destitute of water, food and money.

The woman had fled, with her children, from a home in flames in the
Mission Street district, and tramped to the bay in the hope of sighting
the ship which she said was about due, of which her husband was the
captain.

"He would know me anywhere," she said. And she would not move, although
a young fellow gallantly offered his tent, back on a vacant lot, in
which to shelter her children.

THE GOLDEN GATE CAMP.

In the Golden Gate Park there was the most woefully grotesque camp of
sufferers imaginable. There was no caste, no distinction of rich and
poor, social lines had been obliterated by the common misfortune, and
the late owners of property and wealth were glad to camp by the side of
the day laborer. As for shelter, there were a few army tents and some
others which afforded a fair degree of comfort, but nine out of ten are
the poorest suggestions of tents made out of bedclothes, rugs, raincoats
and in some cases of lace curtains. None of the tents or huts has a
floor, and it is impossible to see how a large number of women and
children can escape the most disastrous physical effects.

The unspeakable chaos that prevailed was apparent in no way more than
in the system, or lack of system, of registration and location. At the
entrance to Golden Gate Park stands a billboard, twenty feet high and
a hundred