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The Daily Dispatch: October 28, 1862., [Electronic resource] 1 1 Browse Search
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where you are," my husband said; "we are in God's hand." There we stood, a tottering roof a few feet above our heads, fallen and shaking walls on our right and left — After the crash was over the gale seemed to lull a moment. He said we must leave the house now, while it is possible to escape. We scrambled over the ruins, wading in water nearly up to our waists, and out into the narrow streets. Our way was blocked by great limbs of trees, whose branches were snapped off like so many threads. * * * But I've not told you the worst. The loss of life was most dreadful-- tens of thousands. The very house next to us, that knocked in the side of ours, buried four men under its ruins. Mr. Gallard, one of our missionaries, was killed by his house falling and crushing him instantly. His wife was only a few feet from him and looking on to see him close a door that had blown open. He leaves one son, six years old. A woman and grandchild, living in Mr. G's family, were killed with him.