This thought again became uppermost and I concluded
to at once get in touch with the president. I proceeded by devious ways
over bricks, past wreck and ruin, through the stunned and gaping crowds,
until I reached the St. Francis Hotel where he resided, and finally
found him in the lobby, which was packed by an excited throng of
humanity. If ever the St. Francis needed the S. O. S. sign, it was the
morning of this day. Everybody in the hotel must have been, with others,
in the lobby.
The president was in his usual hopeful and optimistic frame of mind. He
had no fear whatever but that the fire would be shortly under control.
How this was to be brought about, he could not tell, but he was
perfectly satisfied that it would be done. I looked at the man in wonder
and admiration. Such colossal optimism was superb. To expect from fate
what appeared to me to be the impossible was indicative of a hope
sublime. I envied such a nature. It was not only a great asset but was
also a great solace in the face of an unprecedented disaster. But he had
not been where I had been nor had he seen what I had seen.
Then my thoughts turned toward home and my depression increased almost
to despair as I walked past the wreck and ruin and through the crowds
who themselves were fleeing in indescribable habiliments and with all
sorts of futile treasures grasped in their hands.
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